#that's v nice. I'm always broke

[nightmareonpeachstreet]

:3 the evil has finally been defeated...

[rreids]

BE GOOD TO ME • A. HOTCHNER X READER

__ used in place of reader's name; age gap (both legal, unspecified, hotch implied to have worked with the reader's father); fem!reader; alcohol consumption; fluff; angst (i'm v bad at it, apologies); fears of abandonment; hotch is a bit insensitive at times; no jack or haley (assumed they have the same issues with his work & broke up pre-fic); sexual tension; has a nsfw section, skip from: (“Okay, they’re shut,” -> "I'll stay." if you are a minor or don't like smut; ~5k words; a poorly written ending, honestly; an (early!!!) birthday present for @hotchfiles (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) smut warnings: dom!hotch (nothing intense), fingering, marking, unprotected sex (do not copy them <3), oral (m receiving).

Moving was always a hassle. 

Stressful, tiring, made tensions high — the works. It took the better part of your first day in Quantico to move in, and you could only settle onto your new couch (courtesy of your father, who’d worked in Narcotics at the FBI early on in his career, and was more than excited to find out that you wanted to move there) when the sun was thirty minutes from setting.

“Yes, yeah, Dad, I’m fine. I only had thirty more minutes of unpacking when you were leaving,” you click on speaker phone and lean your head back, sighing as you try to work a cord in your neck. “I’ll say hi to my neighbors tomorrow. Yes. Yes, I’m going to eat. The food you gave me to put in the fridge. I have my first day at the café tomorrow, I’ll get groceries then.”

He rambles for a bit and you close your eyes, letting him talk and talk. It’s nice. You know he worries.

“Ok, Dad, I got it. I’ll contact Gideon if anything comes up, and I’ll ask around for his team or wife — girlfriend? — if he’s busy. I love you, but I’m gonna go get ready for bed. Okay? Yeah. Thank you. Bye-bye,”

He hangs up first, knowing you hate to be the one to click it.

You sigh and stretch, tossing the phone down on the cushion. By the time you gain the energy to stand and go to the fridge, there’s a ring of your doorbell. 

You’re not expecting anyone, so you approach cautiously, peering through the peephole. It’s a man, older, but you can’t place by how much, standing with his hands in his pockets.

You crack the door, keeping the secondary lock in place. “Hello?”

“Good evening,” his voice has a nice husk to it. “Sorry, I should introduce myself. My name’s Aaron, I’m your neighbor. Wanted to ask if there’s any groceries or anything I could bring you, something to help you get settled or maybe you forgot to pack for the move…?”

You eye him warily.

“I was going to make cookies but I can’t bake.”

You chuckle. “Um, I think I’m okay. Are you handy, by any chance?”

“A little. I can do stuff around the house.”

“Then,” you pause, looking at his eyes. “Is there a chance I can get your number? You know, so if there’s any issue I can call you to come round and take a look,”

“Sure,” he smiles warmly at you. “I’m a little busy sometimes, though, so it might take me a few days to get around to stopping by.”

You nod and quickly undo the inner latch and open the door more fully. “That’s alright, I don’t expect you to drop your life because I can’t fix a leaking faucet. Can you wait here while I grab my phone?”

He nods, looking respectfully at only the foyer and not further into your new home, carefully avoiding focusing on the stacks of boxes you haven’t gotten to unpacking (full of knick-knacks and unimportant things that you decided could wait to be put on display). 

It doesn’t take long to save each other’s contacts, and while there’s no more excuse for him to be on your stoop, you want to talk to him more. “Do you have anyone to eat dinner with?”

Subtle, your inner voice snarks back.

“No,” he smiles sadly, bitterness to it. “Just me.”

“Well, it’s just lasagna to reheat, but if you’d prefer to not eat alone…”

“I’d love that…?”

“__,” you smile. “Come on in, Aaron. I’ll get you a plate.”

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

Work goes well, getting adjusted is easy.

You make friends with your coworkers and a few regulars, go out a few times and find a group of girls you mesh with.

Then again, you were a pretty sociable person, always trying to smile and improve people’s days. It was partially why you didn’t absolutely hate service work. There was a silver lining to every interaction.

Aaron was nice, too.

You’d had an issue with water pressure when you finally (after much longer than you’d like to admit) got your new shower head attached, and he’d come over and let his dress shirt get soaked while he fixed it for you.

Whenever you ask about work, he dances around anything more than telling you “FBI” and that he “travels a lot”, but you didn’t mind too much. Everyone has their secrets, and you knew your dad had seen some terrible things. 

You can only imagine what Aaron has seen.

He was good company, had a dry and witty humor that you never expected, kind eyes and a gentle smile you were lucky to see despite his tiredness, and, well, he was handsome.

You weren’t against eye candy, even if you didn’t know much personally about him. It took a week to learn how old he was, and a few days while was gone for work for you to reconcile that he was old enough to have worked with your father when he was at Narcotics.

It’s been two weeks since you’d last seen him, but he calls, voice exhausted and rough, raw, even, from what seems to have been an emotional case. 

“Aaron?”

He hums, sighs on the other side of the line.

“Everything okay?”

“Just tired,” he doesn’t explain more. “Can you keep talking?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” you can’t help the way your brow furrows in concern about how worn-out he sounds. “Well, I can tell you about my job. I’m not nearly as secretive, Mr. FBI,” you tease, and he exhales — a softer, happier one. 

And so you do, rambling about different coffees, trying desperately to coax him into trying a latte (he refuses every single time you try to tell him he’d like one, but assures you there’s someone on his team who has equal amounts of sugar and coffee in his — you’re sure he’s exaggerating, the sugar would be too much for almost anyone — who would love to try your drink combos); telling him about regulars and new customers, the music that played, if there’s a song you know he’d like; really, anything you can think of.

“When do you get back?”

“We’ve landed, I’m back.” There’s more shuffling than there had been on his end, papers sliding and the crackling connection as he moves the phone before bringing it back to his ear. “Just finishing some paperwork.”

“Is it stuff that can’t be seen?”

“No. It’s not confidential.”

“Do you want to do it at your house, then? Or visiting my place. I made pasta and steak, I can heat some back up for you. I’m sure you haven’t been eating well when you’re chasing down bad guys, or… whatever you do when you’re gone, I’m not sure exactly.”

Aaron chuckles. “Thanks, __. Give me thirty minutes?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to stay on the line?”

He hesitates.

“No. No, it’s okay. I’ll see you in a little while.”

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

He takes closer to forty-five minutes, but you expected something to take a bit longer than he said. And it’s not a bother. Really, it was welcome because it let you run out to the store and buy a nice wine (you hoped he likes red), and reheat the food better than just by the microwave.

When he knocks, you try not to scurry over too quickly and to temper your smile. “Come in,”

Aaron smiles tiredly at you, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He hangs up his suit jacket and loosens his tie slightly.

He looks at the table and his brows raise. “Wine?”

“I figured you could use something to unwind,”

“Sounds lovely.” 

You can’t tell if he actually means that, or if he just doesn’t like red, doesn’t want wine, or what, and is being polite but you don’t push it. 

“Are you going to eat, too?”

“I already did,” you smile at him. “I was going to do dishes so I don’t leave them in the sink overnight — I try to never do that. But it can wait if you’d rather have company.”

He moves his napkin. “Well, I’d be able to hear you from the kitchen. More efficient,”

“Got it,”

You hum to yourself in the lulls of conversation with him, scrubbing a plate clean. He eats quickly, when you’re not across from him, and you find this out when he comes in with his dishes.

“Let me wash them. My mess,”

“You’re a guest,” you protest, but you don’t do much to dissuade him, watching the way he rolls up his sleeves and his forearms flex with a lazy smile as he scrubs off the alfredo sauce. “At least leave your glass. We can drink and talk for a bit.”

He raises his brows but nods, pushing it to the side.

“Do you want to talk about work?” You ask him as you fill one for you and then top off his. “Or would you prefer anything else.”

“I’ve been talking about dead bodies and abductions for two weeks. I’d like something more normal,” Aaron answers smoothly before pausing, placing his plate in your dishrack. “I’ve never told you that I deal with that, have I?”

“No,” you hand him his wine and guide him to your couch. “But I can make a guess why you haven’t,”

“I’m sure you can.”

“My father, he was in Narcotics, actually.” You look for a flash of recognition in his eyes, but without saying your father’s name there is none. “Maybe he worked with you at some point. But he would always come home tense and it strained my parent’s relationship… I get it.”

Aaron swallows. You guess relationships are a sore spot.

“Wanna hear about the last time I went out?” You couldn’t think about a better topic, and grimace when he sighs and sinks back into the cushions. “Nothing gross,”

“Hit me.”

You tell him, excited, bubbly, and pause about two-thirds into recounting the drinking games and how you could barely walk by the end of it. Namely, because you want to leave out the fact you almost drunk-dialed him (and that you were super wasted in public, considering he’s a federal agent), and second, because you realize you could show him the dress you were wearing that night.

Maybe the wine is getting to you a little, but you buzz with excitement at the idea of him eyeing you up and down.

“Actually, I wanna show you something!” Your voice is too excited and you know it when he gives you a questioning look. “Wait here.”

You stumble a little changing out of your clothes and quickly zip yourself into the dress, clasp the same necklace back on. Your hair isn’t done the same, your makeup is your day makeup and not what you wear out, but you still look pretty. 

Maybe a little less slutty than you did that night, but the way the dress clings to your curves would make up for it. Hopefully.

“Close your eyes!” You call out to him.

“What?” Aaron calls back, and you hear an exaggerated groan when you don’t reply. “Okay, they’re shut,”

You saunter out and lightly grab his wrist — he’s holding his hands to cover his sight completely, and your heart flutters at the boyishness — and tug them away. “What do you think?”

Aaron opens his eyes almost directly to your cleavage as you straighten up, and he snaps his attention to your face. That doesn’t last long as you spin and twirl, letting the light catch the glittery details. 

He’s moved his eyes to your hips and how much of your thighs are exposed.

He clears his throat. “You wore this out when you were that drunk?”

“Don’t worry,” you smile. “I was safe!”

“You were telling me you could barely walk,”

You pout at him. “You’re so serious, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

A beat of silence.

Another.

“Twirl for me again?”

You beam at him and obey, squeaking when he pauses you once you face away. 

“It’s not fully zipped,” he lets his fingers trace above the zipper as he stands, and you feel him pressing closer to you — tall, imposing, strong. Warmth radiating off his skin. “Can I?”

You debate what to say.

“Actually,” you breathe in deeply, trying to keep your voice level. “I think I cinched the waist too tight at the clasps. Can you loosen them?”

Aaron’s breath ghosts over the nape of your neck, and he says nothing as he slowly unzips it, fingers sparking desire and tensing the muscles as his fingers trail down your spine after the zipper. 

“Right here?” He asks, tugging at the cinch to make his point clear.

You smile and let the straps slip from your shoulders in a fake stretch. His breath hitches.

“A little lower,”

Aaron listens, entranced, undoing more and more until his fingers ghost right above your panties — a thong, maroon-y red. 

You imagine he’s shut his eyes now, trying to respect you despite the way you’re clearly trying to get into his pants.

And so, you act.

You reach back and grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him a little closer to the crook of your neck.

“__,” he whispers.

“Aaron,” you match the soft desire thrumming under the words. “Please.”

You know he’ll snap when you arch your back, pressing back into his hardening bulge and pushing your chest out — right into his line of sight.

He kisses the skin of your neck gently, sucking on it harshly before running his tongue over the stinging sensation. He guides the dress down you fully, strong hands squeezing the fat on your thighs with a groan before slipping up and around your waist to cup your breasts.

“You’re beautiful,”

“Please don’t waste time on easing into it,” you grit out, aching for him. “I want you. Badly.”

“Shh,” he soothes, unclasping your necklace and placing it on the small stand by your couch, kissing where the cold metal had sat. “You’ll get me,”

You whimper out in surprise as he spins you and crashes his lips into yours forcefully, pressing you into him so your nipples brush against his ironed and perfect dress shirt, a perfect, aching friction. 

A confident hand goes to your thong and snaps the waistband against your hip as you press further into him, blindly pawing at his pants.

“Walk me to your bedroom,” he tells you when he pulls back for air, and you stumble into the wall twice, too wrapped up in his kisses and heat to move with grace.

He lays you down, but before he can pull back and stand, you pull him next to you. 

“Let me,” you say, tugging his tie loose and nimbly undoing his buttons with only a slight tremor to your hands. The button-up falls open to beautiful strength and skin, dotted with freckles and rippling with strength as he shrugs the fabric off and flings it to the floor.

When you start on his belt, his eyes bore into you and you shrink under the gaze once you tug it loose.

“Sit back,” he nods towards the headboard. “Now.”

You swallow and scramble to move where he wants. He strips down to his boxers and shifts to move over you, bracing on his knees and a forearm. He pecks your lips with a smile before deepening the kiss.

He leaves you gasping for air by the time he moves to lick over your nipples as his calloused fingers find their way into your panties. You quiver at the roughness on your clit, the way the fabric of the thong slips against you with his movements. 

He pulls off you, and your eyes hungrily drink in his deep breaths and the filthy sight of his fingers moving in your underwear, back arching as he slips one finger into you and continues to roll your clit with his thumb.

“More?” He asks when your hips grind down to meet him.

“Want it,” you gasp out, squeezing him over his boxers. The precum that’s leaked through makes you keen with need. “‘M ready.”

“I’d rather you not get hurt,” he pushes in another finger. “So be patient.”

You huff, fucking up against his hand.

He pulls back and pins you with that same hand, smearing your arousal over your hip. “You can’t wait?”

“Maybe I like it with a little pain.”

He raises a brow at that and sighs, but he lets go of you to pull down and kick off his boxers.

Your mouth dries at the sight of his cock, and you ache, so desperately empty. You grab at his shoulders, broad and strong, and he can’t help the twitch of a smile as he rubs himself against you and you squirm.

You kiss him as you hook your leg around him and drag him into you, delighting in the gasp of pleasure he lets out against your lips. His jaw sets, teeth grinding as he sets a torturously slow pace, letting you feel the drag of every vein and inch against your velvety walls.

You dig your nails into his back and scratch, and his hips stutter before finally speeding up. It’s still not enough, but finally forceful enough to draw sounds from your lips.

“You like a little pain too,” you laugh breathlessly, trying to leave a bite on his neck. He cranes back and out of reach, folding your legs up to drive deeper.

“I can take it. Can you?” Aaron asks, no expectation of an answer as he finally sets a pace that drives you to near silent gasps and shaking muscles. 

You whimper, digging your nails in more harshly to feel the way his shoulders flex as he moves one of his hands to rub your clit. His skin and his movements are rough and aggressive, punching moans out of you without care, sitting your nerves on fire.

He doesn’t relent, leaving wet kisses along your sweat slick skin as he fucks into you so hard you quiver in his hold, small and weak and helpless under him.

You moan at the idea, arching up into him as he scrapes his teeth over your left breast.

“More,” you beg breathlessly. “I can take it all,”

His brow furrows in delicious determination over darkened, blown-out eyes, lips tightening to hold in his gruff moans as he drags you closer to your ecstasy.

“Yeah?” He asks, bringing a hand to squeeze your cheeks together. “Want it all?”

You nod eagerly, urge him down for another kiss, and you clench when he sucks on your tongue before pulling back and completely away.

“Hands and knees.”

You flip hurriedly, trying to hide the way your muscles shake from the effort. He catches it, though, wraps an arm under and around your waist to help support you as he drapes himself over your back and slides back in.

It’s almost claustrophobic, so warm and close to him, skin slick with sweat, heavy breaths coming out in humid pants, wet presses of his lips and tongue to your shoulders and the nape of your neck; but you love it, whining and keening as he angles his hips just right and rubs your clit again.

You’re so, so, so close to the edge, you can almost taste it.

“Let go,” he orders, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his own sounds.

And you do, quivering around him, pussy desperately trying to keep him in place as he fucks you through it.

He hisses, and you whine at the empty feeling, rolling over to see him leaning back and jerking himself off, head tossed back and veins popping out. 

You crawl over and grin up at him “fuck my mouth” before taking him in, and he hisses, fingers tightening in your hair.

“Shit, __,” he groans, and you realize it’s the first time he’s said your name or lost composure during this. You hum in response and bob your head further down before hollowing your cheeks.

His hips jerk, but before he can apologize for the movement, you moan around him and press lower.

Aaron groans, deep and broken with need, and it only takes a few more seconds for him to cum, thighs twitching under your palms.

He tugs you off and kisses you after you swallow, tasting himself on your tongue.

“Let me clean you up,” he whispers after a few moments, observing how you’re still shaking from the aftershocks.

He leaves and comes back with a washcloth, wiping you clean and apologizing softly when you wince from oversensitivity.

Aaron even helps you get dressed (finds pajamas in a drawer for you and hands them to you) and makes sure you pee and brush your teeth.

When he starts gathering his things, you grab him. “Stay.”

He pauses and sighs, shirt bundled in his hand. He slips back into his boxers and slides under the duvet next to you.

“I’ll stay.”

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

When you wake up, Aaron is gone.

No note. No voicemail.

It stings. He’d even cleaned up the wine glasses and brought your necklace onto your nightstand.

When you stand, it aches, muscles exhausted. You shower slowly and pensively, chewing on your lip as you consider calling him.

You don’t.

You fix yourself coffee, eat some fruit and pancakes, and get ready for work. It’d be a long day standing and delivering orders with the way your muscles burned, but maybe it’d distract you.

You don’t even hear from him again for a week, and part of you is mad at him, but most of you is scared — you’d figured out that he deals with homicides and abductions that night, and there was a worry that took root and grew that he could be dead, and you wouldn’t know.

When you hear from him, it’s one a.m. on a Friday (Saturday, you suppose, since it’s past night).

“Hello?” You ask groggily, not having checked the caller I.D.

“__,” Aaron sighs out. He sounds relieved.

You tense. “Aaron.”

There’s awkward silence.

“Why are you calling?”

“I hadn’t heard from you all week,” he tells you, and your heart twists in your chest.

Who did he think he was, to sleep with you, leave without warning, and call like nothing happened?

“I wonder why,” you snap, voice bitter and biting.

Aaron sighs and shuffles.

More uncomfortable silence.

“Where did you go?”

“Home. I had to get dressed for work.”

You hope none of his team is around. You’re already upset enough just talking to him, and that’s without a team of whatever-the-fuck he does FBI agents listening in.

“No message?”

“Should I have left one?” Aaron sighs, and you can practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re not dating, __.”

“Yeah. I can tell.” You scoff. “Then why do you care that I didn't call you?”

“I like your company, you know that.”

“You do a hell of a job making it clear.”

Eyes burning with tears you’re holding back, you finally ask.

“What do you want, Aaron?”

“To talk.”

“No,” you grouse, wiping the tear that rolls down your cheek.

“__, please, come on.”

“Come on?” You repeat, incredulous. “Aaron, I like you. You used me for sex and left. I’m fucking pissed at you,”

“You’re too young for me.” Aaron sighs. “I’m always at work. It’s dangerous work, too. You could have any guy,”

“Yeah. A shame I want you. And my age didn’t seem to matter last week. If you don’t want to date me, just say it!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That I want to see you.”

“No. Please… stop calling me,”

You hope he doesn’t hear the choked sob that leaves your lips as you hang up.

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

You ignore him for two weeks pretty well, pretending to be gone or asleep every time he rings the doorbell, tossing out his sad attempts at cookies (even if you feel like crying knowing he can’t make cookies or bake for shit and is doing it just for you), letting the flowers he placed die on your stoop.

The first time you hear about him again — he hadn’t left messages in a few days — is actually at work.

A younger man, about your age, boyishly cute and nothing like who you wanted, comes in and smiles at you.

“Hey, do you have any like… special drinks?” He’s stuttering. “My friend—boss?— recommended this place, said you had lattes I might like.”

The gears turn a little.

(There’s someone on my team who would drink it. 

I want you to try it, Aaron.

I don’t do sugar in my coffee, __. But he does, I swear it’s more sugar than coffee sometimes. I’ll let him know the name of your café.

Should I be expecting him?

Yeah, maybe. His name’s Spencer. He’s a good kid.)

“Boss?”

“Yeah! We work together, but we’re also friends, but he could fire me, so I never know how to introduce him.”

You giggle slightly. “Um, well, we have a seasonal drink.” 

You rattle off the options and ingredients, and when he finally decides on his order, he blinks at you a few times.

“You know, your name is familiar. __.” He’s trying to place it.

With a smile, you glance at him. “What’d you say yours was? For the order.”

“Spencer.”

Bingo.

You write it on the cup and look to see if there’s a line. There isn’t. You hand the cup to the other barista working with the order ticket.

“Where’d you say you worked, Spencer?”

“I didn’t. But I work at the FBI in the BAU—that’s the behavioral analysis unit. We do something called profiling to catch unsubs, unknown subjects, who commit a variety of different crimes.”

You nod. 

Profiler. 

You’d think someone who knows the human condition and behavior so well would know not to leave a girl without a goodbye when you slept together the night before.

“Your boss, his name Aaron?”

“Hotch.” Spencer supplies automatically before his ears catch up. “Wait, yeah. Aaron Hotchner. You know him?”

You smile tightly, not sure what he’s shared with his team. With the BAU. “We’re neighbors.”

Spencer grins. “You should come in and surprise him! He’s been bothered by something lately, but he won’t tell any of us why. Maybe he’ll tell you.”

You tense. “You all sound like a nosy bunch, Spencer,” you hope your voice comes across light and playful enough. You thank your coworker for his coffee and say “I’m also on shift. Here’s your coffee. Have a good day.”

He smiles and says “you too!” and turns around. He almost bumps into someone immediately and you hear a rush of apologies as he looks at his watch and hurries out of the café.

You sigh.

All day, what Spencer said runs through your mind. Had he really been struggling? He had to be, assuming Spencer didn’t know you… and if Aaron is as private as you think he is, Spencer definitely doesn’t know you.

When you get home, Aaron is waiting on your doorstep, and it takes everything in you to not turn around and get right back in your car, drive somewhere for dinner.

“__,” his voice is pleading, broken and soft.

“Aaron, please,” you sigh. “I’m tired of the excuses.”

“I know. I know. Let’s talk. Actually.”

You huff.

“... I’ll talk. You listen. I’m the one who has apologizing to do,”

“First right thing you’ve said in a while,” you mumble bitterly, brushing past him to unlock your door. “Come on.”

He follows you slowly, and one glance at his face fills you with guilt. He looks like a kicked puppy. 

Damn him and his pretty brown eyes.

You settle on the couch with wine. “Go on,”

Aaron swallows. “I… got a call. A work call. At three. After we slept together, I needed to run to grab all my things, get new clothes… 

It was a brutal case. The… the guy — we caught him — was killing girls who looked like you. And, selfishly, I thought, maybe if I just ignored you I wouldn’t be worried. And that you’d be okay, that it didn’t matter to you like it mattered to me. 

But I kept seeing him kill you in my nightmares, and I knew I needed to focus on work before he killed another innocent woman. That if I called you, I’d break down and be a burden on the team and the case.

And I know that’s not good enough, I should’ve left a message or called anyway.

I do like you. And your age is part of me not calling, I just don’t know if it’s right. For me to want you.”

He pauses and stares into your eyes before looking to the ground. “I don’t care if it’s right anymore. I do want you. When I close my eyes before bed, I see your smile, I think of you, and I just,” he digs his nails into his thighs, exhales heavily. “I want you so fucking bad,”

You swallow. “Care to show me?”

“Not tonight.” Aaron sighs. “I don’t want… I don’t want it to seem like I just want your body.”

“Even if I say it’s okay?”

“Even then,” he leans over and kisses you. 

Sweetly. Romantic, even.

“Let me make it up to you. What do you say about dinner tomorrow?” He rubs his thumb over your cheek. “Let me show you that I want you,”

“Sounds good, Hotchner.”

His brows shoot up. “How do you know my last name?”

“Well, I met this guy,” you say teasingly. “His name’s Spencer. Ring a bell?”

Aaron curses. “Did he say anything?”

“Just that you seemed down. He didn’t know anything, I just said you were my neighbor. Why, did you miss me? That why you were so miserable?”

“Yeah.” It’s the most confident he’s sounded all night. “Going forward…” he pauses. “Just slap me if I’m being an ass. I thought I was going crazy not being able to see you.”

[peterman-spideyparker]

Stolen Glances (College!Matt Murdock x College!Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I've been on a writing hiatus after feeling uninspired after a long while, and I think it's kind of helped reset my creative juices. I'm entering my busy season at work, so I don't know how much time I'll have for writing in the future, but I'm back to feeling more like myself. I figured one of the best ways to return to writing was with some College Matt! Enjoy! :)

Summary: Your best friend convinces you to go out with her to a bar to celebrate the start of spring break, and to your surprise, the night takes an unexpected turn for the better when your friend calls over two people she knows from her law classes—one of whom you just so happen to have a huge crush on.

Warnings: Flirting, swearing, reader nickname (not-name specific) drinking, kissing, getting caught in the rain, smut (oral-f!receiving, Matt's mouth being a menace, praise kink, Matt being a lil' tiny touch possessive, Matt lightly biting at Reader's shoulder, p in v protected sex, aftercare)

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, OFCs

Word Count: 6,084

“Stop staring,” Amy says as she sips her drink. 

“I’m not,” you murmur as you roll your beer bottle absentmindedly on the sticky bar counter of Josie’s. How Amy even got you out tonight is beyond you. You don’t go to bars. You’re not even a big fan of going out in general. But tonight, you caved, and followed her in the rain to a dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen for cheep beer, gossip, and people watching. And it’s people watching that lead your eyes to land on one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. Matt Murdock—enter frantically smitten swoon here. He’s a law student with a voice like honey, a smile that could light up a room, and the best ass in the entire world.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you had to stumble into the one that he was in.

“You are,” Amy counters. 

“Not.”

“Are.” 

“Fine,” you sigh. “Glancing. Let me have this.”

“He’s single, you know. Broke up with the girl he was dating all last year.”

“Which means he’s not looking for anyone.”

“Or he rebounds fast and wants to get under someone. Er, have someone get under him. Hell, I don’t know what he’s in to.”

“Ames.”

“What? I’m just speculating. Just like you are ogling him.”

“Again, not ogling. Glancing. Besides, he’s way out of my league. And you know what? This, right here, is a perfect situation for me—it’s a crowded bar, he’s blind, no one here knows me or cares about me and won’t think twice of me looking in that direction. This is the only time I can pine after someone and not get flustered and weird if he looks in my direction or watch Cindy from my Brontë’s class try to show off her cleavage to get his attention. And she totally would, event to the one guy that literally can’t see it. Which brings me back exactly to my point—he can’t see us here or the undoubtedly big heart shapes my eyes are in.”

“What if his friend does?”

“He has his back to us, he won’t—.”

“FOGGY!”

“You are a major asshole, you know that?” you hiss as you whip your head around to scowl at her.

“Well, now, you can glance up close, see the finer details. Maybe accidentally touch his big arms?” she says with an innocent smile and delightfully raised eyebrows. “Or something else big.”

“Be nice.”

“I’m always nice. Besides, they’re my friends. You survive Professor Murphy’s class together, you’re blood brothers for life—Hey, Fog! Murdock!”

“I didn’t know you guys came to Josie’s,” Foggy smiles as they get close enough to where the two of you sit. “If I had, I would’ve invited you to some of our post-test outings.”

“Well, Kitty here is a lightweight, so it’s not often I get to bring her to bars. I think I finally convinced her because it’s the Friday before spring break and she doesn’t have to do homework right this moment,” Amy hums. She so knows what she is doing, and you don’t know if you should kick her in the shins or be eternally grateful for how Matt turns his head to you next. 

“Kitty?” Matt smiles, and it makes your cheeks burn. He wets his lips lightly as he turns his body toward you, and you can’t help but duck your gaze and shrink in on yourself a bit. 

“An unfortunate nickname that has followed me since I was four and can’t seem to shake,” you explain. “Now that I’m not four, (Y/N) just fine.”

“It’s cute, though. Maybe you’ll tell me the story.”

Fuck, why’d he have to say it like that? You’d tell him absolutely anything he’d want if he spoke to you like that again.

“Maybe,” you breathe. “Maybe not.”

The smile he flashes you is soft, dreamy, and alluring. “Someday it is, then.”

“Why don’t you two take a seat with us?” Amy asks as she swallows the last of her drink. “Have a few rounds with us. I mean, you guys know me, but let’s include (Y/N) into the fold. Probably good that you two legal goobers befriend an English major. Help you guys avoid being duped in a contract or something because of semantics or syntax or something.”

“Offense,” Foggy scoffs.

“(Y/N)’s worst is still better than your best, and you know it.”

“Down, Ames,” you chuckle, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Remember what I said about being nice?”

“Amy? Nice?” Matt smirks. “I’m afraid we haven’t earned that privilege.”

“So, how long have you known Amy?” Foggy asks as he waves Josie over for another round. 

“Too long,” you chuckle, earning you a playful kick under the bar.

“Harsh,” Matt hums.

“For someone who’s basically my sister? Nah. We’ve been friends since we could toddle around,” Amy shrugs. “You two should understand that one—I mean, roommates for two years and essentially an identical course load? You’re as good as brothers.”

“Very true,” Foggy smiles as he opens his next beer. “I mean, sure, Matt got all the good looks, but I have the boyish wit and knack for sarcastic comments.”

“Seems like a pretty perfect pairing to me,” you add. 

Foggy claps Matt’s back with a big smile. “See that, pal? Even the people that just meet us can see we’re a perfect match! Murdock and Nelson, taking New York City law by storm! Rolling in the money, the biggest of the bigs wanting us on retainer!”

“A real life Harvey Spector and Mike Ross,” Amy says with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Take it from a blind man, Nelson and Murdock has a better ring to it,” Matt hums as he sips his beer. “And while money is nice, there’s still something really nice about saving the world.“

“Matty the Martyr,” he sighs. “You know, (Y/N), my parents wanted me to be a butcher.”

“Fog, please, not the butcher story!” Matt begs. 

“Yeah, please,” Amy seconds. “(Y/N) doesn’t need to hear it.”

“Ugh, tough crowd tonight,” he sighs. “You’ll hear about it, (Y/N) . . . someday.”

“Mildly ominous. Definitely non-threatening,” you grin before everyone starts to laugh. “So, what brings you guys out? Is this a post-test outing?”

“Nah, just a Friday night,” Matt smiles. 

“Well,” Amy says, holding up her new drink. “To just a Friday night.”

You all clink the necks of the bottles together before you drink, chatting briefly before Amy playfully insults Foggy’s pool playing skills. The two of them down their drinks before they make their way to the pool table to prove one another wrong.

“I don’t know how those two are friends, sometimes,” Matt chuckles. 

“Well, Amy has three brothers,” you hum. “She loves pushing people’s buttons like that.”

“And Foggy doesn’t back down from challenges like that. Although, I agree that Amy could wipe the floor with Fog at pool.”

You laugh, biting your lip from laughing too loud in the bar. “I won’t tell him you said that.”

“Eh,” he squeaks. “I think he knows where I stand on his pool skills. I mean, a blind guy can beat him.”

You feel your face grow hot with the attention he’s giving you, but it’s all very welcome as you both begin to chat about whatever comes to your minds. For how pretty he is and how flustered you get talking into to people you find attractive, conversation comes so easily with Matt. You feel like you could tell him anything. But that’s the dangerous thing—there’s no way this could work, as a friend or for whatever your brain could dream up. He’s too . . . magnetic. You’d misread something, and in the end, you’d be the one getting hurt. Besides, if you’ve learned anything from Amy, part of being an attorney is learning how to charm the pants off of whomever you’re talking to. And unfortunately for you, you’re just the girl at the bar he’s trying to schmooze only to never see again.

“(Y/N)?” he asks, trying to catch your attention.

“Hm?” you hum, snapping out of it. 

His face is soft, but definitely concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter. “I was just thinking of something.” 

He raises his eyebrows, silently asking if you want to talk about it, but a small pang in your chest makes you want to run away and hide in a corner. 

“I don’t think pool is supposed to take that long,” you say, changing the subject and craning your neck around the bar to try and spot your friends. “I have absolutely no idea where Amy went. It looks like Foggy’s gone, too.”

Matt lets out a small, breathy laugh with a knowing grin.

“Do you want to share the joke with the class?”

“Fog’s been on my case lately about meeting new people. I wouldn’t be surprised if he conspired with Amy.”

“You know, I’d say that’s impossible, but Amy is always trying to set me up and calling me Hermit Homebody.”

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like 'Kitty'.”

“It’s more alliterative, though.”

“So,” he hums, turning his body toward yours. “What’s the story behind Kitty?”

“You’re gonna judge.”

He holds out his pinky to you. “No judgement. Promise.”

You lick your lips before you move your hand to lock your pinky with his. 

“I really loved Hello Kitty when I was little. I basically wanted to be Hello Kitty. Like, absolutely obsessed—alarm clock, bedsheets, plushies, the whole shebang. I even dressed like Hello Kitty. Yellow shirt, blue overalls or an overall dress, and a red bow in my hair, and I had Hello Kitty socks to wear with my sneakers or little Mary Jane’s. It made getting dressed easy, but it definitely annoyed my mom after a bit.”

“That’s really cute.”

“It’s really not,” you chuckle.

“It is, trust me. And, if it makes you feel any better, a lot of free public domain braille texts were legal documents; after the accident that blinded me, that’s all my dad could really get me between hospital bills, trauma therapy and recovery, and our regular bills. I read a lot of Frederick Douglas while he did boxing practice. Between reading those and my dad’s hope for me to get a good job and use my brain instead of my fists, that’s what drove me to be a lawyer. I’m not sure I would have applied to law school if not for that.”

“Wow. That’s . . . amazing. Honestly.”

His brows furrow slightly as he tilts his head down slightly. “I like to think that I’m making him proud. But I’m afraid that I’ll end up letting him down eventually. He . . . He gave me so much, he gave up so much. For me.”

You place your hand on his that’s resting atop of the bar, giving it a squeeze. “The fact that you know the extent of your dad’s sacrifices and you’re worried about letting him down means that you couldn’t possibly disappoint him.”

Matt nods and you see his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows hard. You could swear that you see a tear roll down his cheek, but you’re distracted when he turns his hand over to hold onto yours better, lacing his fingers in yours. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, taking a deep breath. “Hearing that . . . it means a lot.”

“It’s just the truth as I see it.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” Matt hums as he turns his head toward you. “We could grab a bite, just walk around.”

“No ulterior motives?”

“Not unless you want me to have ulterior motives.”

You look at him, your heart beating so loudly in your chest, you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Okay,” he breathes. “Then no ulterior motives.”

“I’m not opposed to stopping at the soft pretzel cart that’s a few blocks over, though.”

He gives you a small smile.

“Something funny?”

“Beer and pretzels,” he hums. 

“Har har.”

“C’mon,” he says with a little jerk of his head. “Lead the way.”

Putting some money on the counter to cover your drinks, you slide off of the barstool, your hand still in Matt’s as he mimics your movement before unfurling his cane. You both walk in comfortable silence, recalling little anecdotes from your childhoods as you stroll along the route. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you laugh.

“I’m not,” he says with a big smile. “I got so much hell from the nuns for it. Father Lantom put on a little show and was a little mad about it, yeah, but the ‘talking to’ that he gave me was about the Yankees game. In fairness, I honestly did worse when I was younger—probably took years off of all of their lives. Probably still do, when they think too hard about it.”

“Gosh,” you say with another laugh. “You’re such a daredevil.”

“Hey, I’ve turned out just fine. For the most part.” 

“Yeah, you’ve got a point. You seem pretty alright.”

“Pretty alright?” he croons. “I’ll take it. Any pointers for how I can increase my ranking, though?”

“Well, if I told you, it’d be too easy,” you smirk as you approach your destination. “Heya, Boyd.”

“Kitty!” he beams. “Long time no see! You’re usual?”

“That’d be great. School’s been busy.”

“You know she’s in Columbia?” he starts to tell Matt. “Smartest girl I know.”

“She is amazing,” Matt says, and you feel your cheeks burn hot.

“Matt’s one of my classmates,” you explain. 

“Ah, so you’re a smart one, too. Kitty here is one of a kind—don’t do anything stupid to loose this one.”

“I’ll do my best not to,” he smiles.

“D’you want anything with yours?”

“Mustard, please.”

Boyd hands Matt his pretzel, but puts his hand up when you try to pay. 

“Not tonight, Kitty,” he says. “My treat.”

“Don’t be silly, Boyd,” you counter. “You know our rule, only on birthdays.”

“Yeah, but you included me on your date. I feel real special. All warm and fuzzy like.”

Your cheeks burn even hotter when he says “date”— you appreciate that Boyd thinks you’re in the same league. 

“Please?” you try.

“Alright. But you’re getting your change back. This one, she always tries to scurry away before I can give her her change back!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t escape,” Matt chuckles, his hand resting on your waist, the gentle touch sending goosebumps up your spine.

“Atta boy. You know, I like this one. He ain’t that bad. Here, Kitty. Have a nice night, you two!”

“Night, Boyd!” you smile. 

“Nice to meet you,” Matt adds. Once you’re out of earshot, he asks, “How come he can call you Kitty?”

“Because Boyd has known me since I was six,” I chuckle before I take another bite of my pretzel. “You’ve gotta earn it.”

“Oh, so now you’ll let me earn the chance to call you Kitty?”

“If you play your cards right.”

“Sounds like a challenge.”

“You seem like the kind of guy that likes challenges.”

He grins and raises his eyebrows as if conceding to your point before taking a bite of is pretzel, licking up the mustard at the corner of his mouth. The absolutely obscene thoughts that cross your mind when he does that would even make a sinner in church blush—but also appreciate the sentiment. You finish your pretzels quickly, continue to walk aimlessly around and talk about whatever comes to your mind.

“Wow,” you hum as you look at a clock on the other side of the park we’re walking through.

“What?” he hums. 

“It’s almost three.”

“Seriously? No.” You feel Matt’s arms shift, and you watch his fingers slide over the face of his watch. “Shit. It’s almost three. I didn’t think we were talking for that long.”

“Me either. Not that I’m complaining about it.”

“Neither am I.”

“Maybe we’re just really slow walkers?”

Matt laughs. “It is a really nice night.”

There’s a comfortable silence before you speak next. “I don’t do this, normally. Go out—go out to a bar, no less—walk with guys aimlessly around the city.”

“Tell people the story of your nickname? Or bring them to meet your pretzel godfather?” he teases gently, and you chuckle softly and nod. 

“Definitely not either of those.” You take in a deep breath before you continue. “Something feels different tonight, though, and I like it. And I only started liking it when you and Foggy joined us at our table.”

“Yeah?” he says so softly you almost don’t hear it.

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I like it, too.”

Your gaits slow before Matt turns into you, a relaxed, dreamy look on his face. It’s not a face you’ve seen him flash the girls on campus—the cocky, over-confident swagger that’s usually there replaced with something almost dreamy and entirely genuine. Your heart starts to race as he leans in, but you both freeze in place when the sky opens up and you get caught in a sudden downpour. You squeak and he lets out a soft grunt before Matt hand grabs yours, and you rush toward the sidewalk. You raise your hand to wave down an oncoming taxi, and as you both slide in, Matt gives his address to the cabbie. 

The ride is short, but it’s definitely better than making the trip in the pouring rain. When the cabbie pulls to the curb, Matt hands him the fare and the tip, opening the door and sliding out first, waiting for you to follow. He uses his large frame to try and shield you from the rain as you run into the lobby of his dorm, tracking in puddles into the elevator. 

“Would Foggy mind if I crash here for the night? I mean, what’s left of it,” you ask, your arms hugging yourself as you shiver in front of his door. 

“You don’t need to worry about him. He’s staying with his family for the first half of break,” Matt says as he slides the key into the lock, leading you into the very nice dorm apartment. “It’s just us here.”

“Ah,” you hum softly, looking around the space. “I wish my dorm looked like this. I think I chose the wrong major.”

Matt chuckles softly as he moves about the space. “Well, each year we get better housing choices, and the ADA complaint dorms were updated a few years ago. Foggy just reaps the rewards of being my friend.”

“Well, it is very nice. Definitely decorated by boys, though.”

Matt chuckles softly, walking into what you assume is his room before coming back out in pajamas, a folded set of clothes in his extended hand. 

“Thanks,” you smile as you take the sweatshirt and sweatpants out of his hands.

“Can’t have you be chilly,” he hums. “Let’s face it—Amy would kill me if I let you catch a cold.”

“You, Foggy, and then me. In that order,” you laugh. “You know, I honestly thought it was done raining for the night.”

“I’m just glad we caught a cab. And that you let me pay.”

“Well, you gave them the address to your dorm. Seemed right that you foot the bill.”

Matt chuckles as you turn to side off your wet clothes and put on his fluffy sweater and sweats. Yes, it feels a little odd to change in front of him, but it’s not like he can see you in your underwear, and you need to get these wet clothes off. And if tonight has taught you anything, Matt is someone you feel comfortable and safe around.

“Let’s hope these dry by the morning,” you say, folding your soaked clothes and putting them over the stool in the kitchen area. 

“You can keep them as long as you need. Something tells me I’ll get them back eventually.”

You blush deeply. “In a timely manner. Promise.”

“I’m not gonna force you out when the sun comes up, you know,” Matt continues. “We can go down and throw your clothes into the dryer in the morning. Maybe go grab breakfast after they’re out.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Want to go to the living room?”

“No ulterior motives?” you smirk. 

He laughs, and you swear you just made him to blush. “No. Not unless you want there to be,” he responds. 

“I don’t think I’d be opposed to some.”

Matt slides off his glasses, placing them on the kitchen table. His eyes sparkle in the moonlight coming through the window, taking a half step forward and placing his hands on your waist. You lean in to help close the space between your bodies, and when his lips finally meet yours, you feel your heart skip a beat as electricity shoots through your veins. You slide your hands up his body to cradle is face as he pulls you in even closer. The kiss is passionate, tender, and everything that a kiss should be. When he pulls back, you’re breathless and dizzy in all the best ways. His forehead rests on yours, and you desperately wish he’d lean in for another kiss. 

“Are those acceptable motives?” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours.

“Mm,” you hum. “Very.”

He smiles, leaning in for another kiss, the force of the embrace knocking the back of your legs against the sofa. You pull him into you, knocking the pair of you down on the couch, his body crushing yours in the most glorious of ways for a moment until he can position himself better on the furniture. His hands have a firm grip on your body, sending wave after wave of chills up your spine as you chase his lips for more kisses. One of his large hands cradles the back of your head, holding you closer so he can gain better access to the kiss, and you realize his glasses aren’t perched on his face anymore. You don’t even know when he would’ve have a chance to take them off. But do you really care? 

No. No you don’t.

As you make out, Matt slides you onto his lap, giving you a bit more leverage as you embrace. You lips mirror one another’s, curving up into smiles. You take in a sharp breath as you feel his hands slide under the sweater and up your back, the simple action sending goosebumps up your spine. You moan into the embrace and lean forward to deepen it, accidentally nipping his lower lip between yours. It elicits a strong response from Matt, his fingers digging into your skin, sure to leave little bruises as souvenirs before moving up to tug at the hair at the nape of your neck. His fingers should have their own insurance policy, because wherever they trace on your body feels like a million dollars—the warmth, the strength, the grip—goes straight to the apex of your thighs. Firm, relaxing, and downright sinful.

You pull back from the kiss, Matt’s swollen lips chasing yours as you lean away, turning your head to yawn. 

“Am I putting you to sleep, sweetheart?” he smirks, softly kissing your neck before moving so his face points toward yours. 

“You’re definitely relaxing me, that’s for sure,” you tell him as you look back at his face. “It’s just been a really long week.”

“We can stop if you want.”

“You stop, and I’m telling Amy and Foggy.”

“Oh, well, we can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t.”

With more smiles, you lean back into the kiss. Matt’s grip is firm on your waist before sliding his hands down and over the globes of your ass, moving to your upper thighs before lifting you up. You’re too focused on his lips to try and watch where he’s taking you, even though you have a good idea. You moan into his mouth as you feel Matt lay you down on his mattress.

“At least if you get a little too tired to keep going, you can fall asleep in a bed,” he whispers before he starts to kiss your neck.

“So kind of you.”

“I try.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Can I keep going?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

Matt flashes you a devilish grin before leaning back in, his hands sliding up under the borrowed sweatshirt tracing the curves of your body.

“You can take it off, you know,” you murmur against his lips. “It’s your shirt, after all.”

He hums in delight, doing as you ask and ridding the fabric from your body and pushing it to the side. “You’re chilly now,” he hums kissing all over the exposed skin, pulling soft moans from your throat. 

It’s your turn to slither your hands up against his rock-hard body under his clothes, lightly raking your fingernails along his skin. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“I have a few ideas.”

“Then show me.”

Matt’s lips slot back over yours, tasting every ounce of your mouth that he can. He pulls back, whipping his shirt off. You’re unable to prevent your jaw from dropping when you see his exposed chest, a little wooden cross hanging from a cord around his neck a strong contrast from his fair skin and rippling muscles. It doesn’t hang too long, the space between the two of you closed just as swiftly as it was created before his hands deftly undoes your bra. Matt’s hands slide the straps down your arms, tossing it to the side before his large hands palm at the fleshy mounds, his hips inadvertently beginning to roll against your legs. 

“Mm,” you hum as you start to mark his neck. “I’d say we’re moving fast, but, I like where we’re moving. Seems like you do, too.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Let me lay you down and make you feel good, angel.”

“Mm, ‘angel’,” you smirk as you pull him on top of you. “Sounds better than ‘Kitty’. Better not be calling any other girls that.”

“It’ll be just for you. Swear.”

“Good.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna try and stop earning the right to call you Kitty, though.”

“Consider it earned. Can even call me Kitten. Now, please tell me you have some condoms here.”

“Mm, I do. But, the thing is, that pretzel left me hungry, angel. I need to eat a little more.”

Your brows furrow before Matt holds your face in his hands, kissing you deeply. He trails his kisses down the column of your neck, moving lower with each embrace, down your chest and torso until his lips reach where your skin and his sweatpants meet. 

“Is it okay if I pull these down, sweetheart?” he asks, pressing feather-soft kisses on your stomach. “Can I kiss you there? Can I taste you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathe a little too quickly, moving your fingers into his soft hair. “Please.”

He smiles, kissing your belly button before curling his fingers round the waistband of the sweats and underwear and sliding them down your legs. His strong hands gently part your legs, exposing yourself to him, his soft, pouty lips kissing back and forth along your inner thighs until his nose brushes the slick folds. A soft moan escapes your throat, so quiet that you almost don’t hear it. As soon as it leaves your lips, you swear you hear Matt growl a little before diving in between your legs. This time, you moan louder, your back arching off of the bed and your fingers clutching the sheets. 

“Matt!” you squeak. His hands are firm on your hips, keeping his face buried in your core, tasting and savoring you like you’re the sweetest of desserts. Your chest heaves as you squirm against him, but each movement of your body only spurs him on to hold you tighter. He hums into your pussy, the vibrations working all the way up your body. 

“M-Matt,” you stutter, feeling yourself get wound tightly as he works diligently between your legs. “Matt, I—oh, fuck!”

Matt just hums, keeping pace and enjoying the taste of you on his tongue. You continue to whimper, whine, and squirm, biting your lip harder as you get closer to your release. You suck in a sharp breath when you feel Matt pull away from you, his face in your direction, his mouth and chin shiny with your slick.

“Don’t hold back, angel. I’ve got you,” he pants. “Make those pretty noises for me. It’s just you and me, okay? Don’t worry about if anyone else can hear. It’s just you and me.”

“Okay,” you say breathily with a frantic nod. “Okay.”

“Good girl.”

You could cum with those two words, and the quick twitch at the corner of his mouth tells me that he knows it, too. With a lick of his lips, he dives back down without missing a beat, sliding two thick fingers into you, gently pumping them and curling his fingers to squish against the perfect spot that makes your vision go spotty. You let out your loudest cry of the night, the sheer volume hurting your throat a little. It elicits a deep growl from Matt, and with one more lick, you’re quaking and unraveling on his face. Little tremors continue to jolt through your body as Matt works to lick up every last drop of you before pressing a soft kiss on your swollen nub and kissing his way back up your body. 

You lean up and crash your lips into his, desperate for him. Matt eagerly kisses you back, letting you taste yourself, exploring how you mix with him. 

“Are you up for more?” he pants as he pulls back, trying to smooth down your tousled hair. 

“Please,” you say, the faintest hint of a whine in your voice. “I’m ready.”

Matt smiles, pecking your lips quickly before leaning back and taking his sweats off. Your eyes involuntarily widen when you see just how big he is. If tonight with Matt hasn’t ruined other men for you yet, the feeling of him inside you and how it will undoubtedly linger for days will.

“You okay?” he pants as he works to slide on the condom.

“I’m doing great,” you swallow, trying to remain coherent through the bliss. 

His laugh is like warm tea with honey.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

With the condom firmly on, he leans forward to kiss you slowly. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Matt kisses you again, adjusting the pillows behind you as he lines himself up with your entrance. He places his hands on you gently, forehead resting on yours, before carefully starting to slide in. You bite your lip as your eyes flutter shut, your head suddenly becoming too heavy as you let it roll to the side and rest against his neck. 

“Matt,” you breathe.

“Prefect,” he pants as he slowly pushes forward. “Perfect.”

“M-Matt,” you whimper as you stretch around him. “Big.”

“Do you need me to stop?” he whispers. “Does it hurt?”

“N-No. ’s great. So great.”

“Say the word if you need me to stop, okay? If it’s too much?”

“Okay.”

Your faces turn toward one another, and for the briefest of moments, Matt’s eyes lock onto yours. You feel your heart skip a beat and jump up right into your throat. This is ridiculous—tonight is the first time you’ve actually met him rather than stare at him and wish from a distance, and it’s like your entire universe is on its head. Matt tenderly leans forward, his lips on yours, fueled with a softer passion than what has dictated your embraces for the night. The roll of his hips is slow, and you feel everything ten times over. You hold onto Matt as if your life depends on it, and you let him work as he marks up your neck and shoulder with little bites. 

“Don’t stop,” you plea. “Don’t stop. Matt, please don’t stop!”

Your pleas and whimpers spur Matt to pick up his pace. As he does so, his own soft moans grow louder in your ear, and it drives you wild. The springs of the mattress move from a quiet creak to an all consuming squeak, perfectly punctuated by the headboard hitting the wall.

“Matt!” you cry out, pulling probably harder than you should at his hair. 

“Such a good pussy,” he grunts. “All for me. You’re so good for me, angel. Feel so perfect.”

“Please!”

“Hm?”

“Fuck, Matt! You’re—oooohhhh!”

“Perfect f’me, angel. Such a good girl. My good girl.”

The sound of your slapping skin adds to the erotic symphony in the room, sweat quickly lining your bodies. You whimper as you nuzzle into him, muttering incoherent sentences as his pelvis rubs against your sensitive core, building you up to knock you over with intense pleasure. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders and pull a deep growl from the back of his throat. He nips at the sensitive skin behind your ear before slotting his lips over yours.

“Matt,” you whimper, really drawing out the vowel in his name. “Matt, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Let it out,” he encourages. “Cum for me. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good. Let me hear you, angel.”

Matt kisses the sweet spot on your neck and pulls a needy whine from you. A stuttered whine pulls from your lips as your eyes pinch shut and you claw your fingers into Matt’s back. You cry out at the top of your lungs as a second wave of pleasure washes over you. With Matt in you, dragging against every right spot, it feels so much better than with his mouth. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, and you cry out in pleasure even louder. The pace of Matt’s hips move even faster, albeit at a more unsteady rhythm with an increased sense of urgency as he tries to soothe the sting of his teeth. His moans turn into grunts, a delight to your ears. 

“Harder,” you beg. “Harder, Matt.”

You feel Matt nod his head against yours, doing as you ask, his lips brushing faint kisses against your cheek. You cry out once more, Matt’s hips pulling one more orgasm from you as he hits his high, spilling into his condom with punctuated thrusts.

Your breathing is heavy as your bodies still, sweat clinging to your skin and soaking the sheets. You chuckle softly as Matt places gentle kisses along your neck, his nose tickling you just so before pulling himself off of you and sliding out. He does it slowly, and you moan softly from the sensitivity and the loss of him. He ties off the condom, shuffling out of bed to throw it away. Matt briefly rounds the corner, coming back with a towel in hand. Without a single word, he carefully spreads your legs, gently cleaning the mess between your thighs. His lips softly kiss your knees and thighs has he works, and you can’t help but smile. He tosses the cloth to the side, it landing perfectly on the edge of his hamper. Matt slides back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and letting you adjust in his hold, kissing your forehead.

“What?” he whispers so softly you want to melt.

“You have freckles,” you whisper back just as quietly as you look up at him. “They’re a little hard to see, but they’re there.”

“Yeah?” he says with a tender smile.

“Mm.” Carefully, you move your fingers against the skin on his cheek, tracing over the faint constellation on his fair skin. 

“What?” he whispers again with a little smirk. 

“How do you know I’m thinking?”

“Call it a hunch.”

You smile softly. “It’s just . . . I wasn’t planning on coming out tonight. I don’t go out. I don’t go to bars. I don’t do this. Any of this.”

“I think you mentioned that earlier,” he hums with a cheeky smile. God, his voice is like a warm blanket that you just want to snuggle up in. 

“It just felt right, with you. I’m really glad I came out tonight.”

“Can I let you in on a secret?” You give him a hum in response. He pulls you closer and presses a long, slow kiss to your lips. “I’m really, really glad you came out, too.”

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[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ crying with eren 𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 9: oh so messy!!!

✯⁠ eren jeager x reader

✯⁠ warnings: crying, rough oral (male receiving), ball sucking, choking, oral (female receiving), rough doggy, p in v, cream pie (maybe a bit of baby trapping)

You and your boyfriend have been dating for a while now. He's beautiful, smart and perfect in your eyes. Also, the sex life is amazing, he always makes you cum without any problem, and sometimes he even manages to scream out loud from all of the pleasure.

Eren sees you the same, a sweet little thing, who is always so eager for his cock. He loves to see your eyes light up every time you see his cock, it makes him wanna ruin you completely.

"Yeah, baby, take it in your mouth." he breathes out, guiding your head down on his cock. Your lips wrap around his tip, sucking on it lightly while you look up at him with the most innocent face. His eyebrows furrow, he doesn't understand how you can look at him like that while you have his cock in your mouth

"Be careful, sweetheart," he warns you as he thrusts his cock deeper into your mouth. You choke a bit around him, your eyes filling with tears. He stops, you look even more beautiful with tears in your eyes. Your throat hurts from how big he is, but Eren continues thrusting his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth.

"You can take it," he grunts, completely letting go. He hammers his cock inside your mouth, making you choke with every thrust. You feel like you can't breathe, tears and saliva running down your face. The expensive mascara you're wearing is smudged all over your face, and your boobs are soaked with all kinds of liquid.

"Lick my balls, love," he says, showing his balls right into your face. They bump into your nose, almost making you fall back, but you try your best to suck them how he wants to.

A pair of arms lifts you up and before you know it, you're thrown on the bed. Eren crawls on top of you, kissing you hungrily. He doesn't waste any time exploring your body before he's settled in between your legs. He licks your pussy a few times before muttering, "You're already so fucking wet, I don't even have to prepare your fucking pussy."

He positions his cock to your opening before thrusting in, knocking the wind out of your lungs. He doesn't give you any time to get used to his size, he has one goal, and it's to make you even messier.

"You love how I fuck you?" he asks with a grin, thrusting as hard as he can. He hits your cervix with every thrust, and it hurts, but it hurts too good for him to stop. He pulls away almost completely before slamming in again, this time you choke a sob. Tears start spilling out of your eyes once again, much to Eren's adoration.

You've never been this beautiful in his eyes. He loves to see your face filled with tears and the choked screams you make. Your whole neighborhood can probably hear how much you plead for him to stop and go harder at the same time. He thinks he finally broke you, finally made you into his doll.

Eren presses your body right into the mattress, preparing for what's about to come.

"I'm gonna fill you up. Are you gonna cum with me?"

You nod your head, hiding your face in the pillows. Your legs trash under Eren's weight as you try to get away from him. He's so mean, but you want him, but at the same time, you can't handle his thrusts.

His thrusts soon become frantic and without any pattern, and you know that he's close. His fingers find your clit, and he fingers it as fast as he can to get you to your orgasm.

"Here it goes, baby," he says, burying his cock as deep inside of you as he can, shooting all of his cum inside of you. You feel yourself being stuffed full, cumming with him. Your shake and trash, both of you riding out your orgasms.

"It was nice," you say quietly, lying down next to Eren.

"I wasn't too rough, was I?" he asks, and you shake your head. He has too rough, but something inside of you liked it.

"You were not, and maybe we can try it sometimes again."

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@satorustar @balenciagarette

[kiss-me-cill-me]

hear me out:) reader wants to try vanilla sex with Dr.Crane since he always has some kind of twist or experiment when it came down to it. And he ends up doing her against the wall and it’s just really intimate. love your works, and it’s totally fine if this isn’t something you would write🤗

I love a challenge haha ;) And I always enjoy getting to explore different sides of a character. While he might not be nice in most of my fics, I do think that Crane has a sweet side. Somewhere in there lmao. Thank you for requesting, anon!

V. planifolia

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Your boyfriend comes home unexpectedly early, and you take the opportunity to try something new.

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, mentions of bondage, mentions of edging, slight overstim, dirty talk, dumbification if you squint, dare I say... some domestic fluff? (in MY Jonathan Crane?!), established boyfriend/girlfriend relationship

A/N: The biggest mental hurdle I had to overcome in writing this was referring to him as "Jonathan" instead of "Crane" lmao. He's just always Crane in my head. And while things are pretty vanilla, he's still sassy, because... well, it is me writing him lol

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

You were so used to your boyfriend coming home late that it was almost a surprise when he showed up just thirty minutes after you'd finished dinner.

“Jonathan?” you called, cautiously getting up from the couch to investigate.

You'd heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, so logic dictated that it couldn't have been an intruder. But it was barely seven o’clock, and Jonathan didn't usually get home until after you were already in bed. He worked long hours; he always had. So you were shocked to see him standing there in the entryway, setting down his briefcase as he closed the door behind him.

“Baby? What are you doing home early?”

At the sound of your voice, he looked up. A small smile fluttered over his face; his eyes pale and tired, until they caught a glimpse of you. There was that mischievous little spark that you loved.

“Sorry to startle you,” he replied. “I can leave if you'd like.”

He was joking, and you laughed a little as your arms wrapped around his waist. Your bodies found each other easily, and you felt yourself sink against him in that comfortable way that you knew so well.

“No way - you're not getting away from me that easily,” you teased.

Your lips brushed against his, and Jonathan pulled you in closer until you were kissing him. As you sighed happily, you realized that it had been - approximately - forever since the last time you'd had an evening alone with him. You pulled away and looked back at him softly; gentle concern tinting your eyes.

“I'm happy you're home, but is everything okay?” you asked. “You really are back early.”

“Everything’s fine,” he assured you.

Jonathan gave you one more squeeze before he gently broke the hug, trailing off in the direction of the living room. You followed, a small skip already creeping into your step. Your smile threatened to break out at any moment. It was so good to have him home.

You watched from the doorway as Jonathan dropped heavily onto the couch, leaning his head back to look up at the ceiling as he sat. His jacket was already thrown over the back of a chair, and he rolled up his shirtsleeves, not watching what he was doing.

“I know that I haven't been home much,” he continued. His voice seemed to fill the room, making the small space feel even more intimate. “Work has been eating me alive.”

“I hope not literally,” you joked.

Though you could never be sure. Some of the patients he worked with at Arkham were… unique, to say the least.

“Not yet.”

He lifted his head to look over at you, briefly, before reclining again and throwing an arm over his face. Even with his eyes shielded, you could still feel the lingering, icy cold rush of his gaze. You walked over and knelt at his feet, helping him to remove his shoes.

As you tugged at the laces, you felt a surge of devotion wash over you. Jonathan always worked hard. Even though, yes, he wasn't around much during the week, he made sure to provide for you. In fact, you were sure that was all part of the reason why he so often worked late. 

Once his shoes were off, you let your soft fingers drift up his leg, brushing against the fabric of his trousers.

“Did you have dinner? Do you want something to eat?”

“Maybe later,” Jonathan replied, as he took hold of your wrist.

Gently, he pulled you until you were standing up, and then until you were straddling him, your knees pressed into his sides.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” you asked, settling into his lap.

As you spoke, your hands came up to rest on his shoulders. Kneading into his tension, you could feel as his arms relaxed under your touch. 

“I just want to spend time with you.”

His fingers trailed over your thigh, and you knew instantly what he meant.

“Oh, so that's why you're home early,” you teased.

You leaned in to kiss him again, this time slipping a finger to hook under the knot of his tie, pulling him closer to you. His tongue brushed against yours, and it sent an electric jolt down your spine.

“Aren't I allowed to miss you?” he teased back.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Both of you knew very well that Jonathan was always the one in charge in the bedroom, and hearing him talk as if you were the one who imposed rules on him made you feel flustered.

“You have no idea,” he continued, “how hard it is to work late, when all I can think about is how you’re here all alone. Waiting up for me. You've been good though, right? Haven't been touching yourself without me?”

The heat on your cheeks deepened, traveling all the way down to your core. 

“O-of course not,” you replied, cursing the way your voice caught in your throat. It was just like him to somehow have you wrapped fully around his finger less than five seconds in. “You know I wouldn't.”

Jonathan hummed, and pushed your hips up and off of his lap as he brought a hand down to brush softly over your clit. You jumped, even feeling him through all your clothing, and your knuckles stretched tightly over his shoulders. 

“Seems like you're telling the truth…”

And you were. You melted into his touch as Jonathan swirled his fingers against you, pressing them roughly. After going without for so long, every nerve felt as if it was on fire in between your legs.

“Ohh…”

Your soft sigh earned you more pressure from Jonathan; his fingers nearly digging into your clothed cunt. You rocked your hips, desperately throwing your head back as you held onto his shoulders for support.

“Stop,” he ordered.

“Mmmmmph.”

Your petulant whine filled the room, and your frustration only grew as Jonathan took his hand away. His command had been gentle, but you were so needy that it felt like torture.

Swiftly, Jonathan stood up and took you with him. Still holding onto your hips for support, he made sure your feet were on the ground before stepping forward. He backed you up with him, until your shoulder blades hit the far wall.

“I really have been away for too long, haven't I?” he breathed, filling your mouth with the taste of anticipation.

“It's okay… I know you're busy at work.”

“You're too nice,” Jonathan sighed. “I want to hear just how badly you’ve missed me.”

Almost instantly, he got what he wanted as you cried out, shocked by the way his leg pushed eagerly between yours. He pressed harder, still looming over you.

“That's better.”

“Jonathan-”

“Want me to tie you up like I did last time?” he interrupted. “Or do you want to try something new?”

It was impossible to miss the hint of excitement in his deep voice. You moaned as he dragged your hips down even harder, pressing your bodies together with an intensity that was almost too much.

“I- was thinking it might be nice to try something a bit different,” you answered, your voice slightly fragmented as he unbuttoned your pants.

“Mmm. You have any ideas?”

You took a deep breath. What you had in mind probably wasn't the same as whatever twisted idea was running through Jonathan’s head. It wasn't that you didn't like experimenting. It was just… you didn't like doing it all the time. 

“I was thinking… what if we just took things slow?” you ventured.

“What? Like you want me to edge you?”

“No, not… exactly like that.”

It was getting harder to articulate, as Jonathan’s mouth latched onto your neck, sucking and biting as he moved up toward your jaw.

“Like what, then?” he whispered wickedly, right in your ear.

“Like… what if we were just kinda… gentle?”

Jonathan pulled back to look at you, the slight hint of a frown on his lips.

“But you like when I'm rough with you.”

“I do!” you rushed to agree. “It’s just that… sometimes I want you to be slow and sensual.”

Your arms inched up to hook round his neck, and you pulled him in for a soft kiss, trying to show him what you wanted. Jonathan was stiff at first, but eventually he melted into the slow movement of your lips.

When the kiss broke, Jonathan took a step back, removing his thigh from between your legs. He pushed his hands under your waistband and started to, very slowly, shove the fabric down over your hips.

“We can try that,” he relented. Then added with a mischievous wink, “But if you get bored… just let me know.”

You hummed as his hands slid over your curves, dragging your pants down with them. Jonathan never did anything halfheartedly, and if you wanted it slow, then that was exactly how he would give it to you. Even if it did drive you crazy in the process.

Your slacks fell, pooling below you on the hard floor. Jonathan paused for a moment, before planting a kiss on the exposed skin below where your blouse had started to fall away. He pushed back your collar, to kiss more and then send a shiver right after, as he breathed over the wetness that had been left behind by his mouth.

He stood up straight, pressing an airy kiss to your forehead as his fingers trailed over the lace of your panties.

“Am I doing it how you want me to, darling?” he asked.

You felt yourself swoon again. You weren't used to him following your lead quite like this, but you liked it. A lot.

As was clearly evidenced by the wet spot that had started to seep through the fabric that Jonathan was toying with. He found the trace of your arousal easily enough, and pressed two of his fingers into the damp cotton.

“Nevermind. I have my answer.”

Slipping your already-ruined panties to the side, Jonathan brushed his fingers over your core before bringing them up to your clit. Swirling with just the right kind of pressure, he dragged a soft moan from your lips.

“Oh my god,” you sighed. “Keep going.”

He kissed you, slowly but sinfully, swallowing all of your breathy sighs and words of admiration as they slipped out. It was impossible to contain them, especially when you started to feel his own arousal as it pressed up against your hip, seeming to grow more impatient the harder he got.

“Jonathan- so close,” you whined, breathless already.

“You sure you don't want me to edge you?” he asked, maybe a little hopefully.

“No - please, let me come.”

The pressure was already building. Soon, neither of you would have any choice in the matter. You just had to get him to keep going, long enough for you to push past the point of no return.

“Well, if you're asking so nicely…”

Another searing kiss sealed your fate, and you scrambled to hang onto Jonathan as you felt yourself start to crumble.

He held you, still pressed firm against the wall, and you heard a deep chuckle resound from his throat.

“Good to know even this kind of stuff makes you a mess,” Jonathan droned. “Or maybe you're just so used to me doing everything I want to you, that this actually counts as variety now.”

You were barely listening to him; still too distracted by the delightfully sore feeling that seemed to permeate your whole body.

What you did notice was him slipping your panties the rest of the way off, letting them fall at your feet before gently guiding you to step out of them. With that done, he turned his attention to your blouse, delicately removing it and then tossing it to the side.

Your hands came up clumsily to paw at the buttons on his shirt, trying in vain to release them. Jonathan saw you were struggling, and gave you a small, knowing smile.

“Let me help, darling. It seems like you're having some trouble.”

You moved your hands to let Jonathan take over. He loosened his tie easily, and popped three of his buttons. But, quickly, he lost interest, and instead moved to unzip his pants.

When he finally sprang free, his cock hit your still-throbbing clit.

“Ah!” you hissed.

“Still sensitive?” Jonathan asked, rubbing himself leisurely against you.

Your only response was a whimper, but that was answer enough. Jonathan’s lips curled into a wicked smile, as he hovered close to your ear.

“Hold still,” he teased, reaching down to line himself up.

You squirmed, fighting within yourself as half of you wanted to scream at the sensation while the rest of you, conversely, needed to grind down harder. Every contact made you jump, and as he pressed in, you saw stars.

“Jonathan…”

You had expected him to start moving, but instead he held off. Staying right where he was, Jonathan paused so that you could feel just how completely he filled you. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, sickly sweet voice dripping into your ears.

“Fuck,” you replied.

He laughed.

“You’ve lost quite a bit of your usual eloquence.” He started to drag himself out. “But okay. Since you asked nicely again…”

As he pressed back in, slow but rough, you couldn’t help letting out an undignified sound. Jonathan smirked.

When he did it again, your whole body shifted, pressed up by the force of his thrust. Your head rolled back, hitting the wall lightly before lolling off to the side. 

“You’re so pretty,” he sighed.

As he spoke, he reached down to hook one of your legs up and over his waist. The new angle caused you to let out another choked whine, which earned you an even harder thrust.

“Maybe we should do this more often. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you like this.”

You could only imagine how you must have looked. Mouth hanging open and eyes half-shut, rolling back into your head from the pleasure as your chest heaved and your knees gave out. Jonathan smoothed a thumb over the edge of your jaw.

“Even though I can’t stop thinking about all of the other things I’d like to do to you,” he added, punctuating the sentiment with his hips. You swore you felt him shudder.

Kissing your suddenly-warm neck, Jonathan thrust into you again. Your hips snapped back weakly to meet him, and you heard yourself start to moan. You held onto him tighter, dragging your nails down his arms.

“I thought you wanted to be gentle?” he teased.

He hadn't been going very fast, but now he slowed down entirely. For a moment, the two of you stood, face to face, your breath and his in a sweltering mix, pooling out in the scant space between you.

Jonathan’s forehead came to rest against yours, and you looked up into the blur of his eyes. Two hazy pools of blue ice that were filling your vision completely.

“Want me to speed up?”

“No, this is nice,” you replied. A bit dreamily as your senses took time to adjust. Your skin prickled at his touch as he brushed a hand lazily up your arm.

“I can be slow then,” he laughed. “But it might be too hard if you keep looking at me like that.”

“How should I look at you, hm?” you teased.

“Like you’re pretending you don't want to be turned around with your wrists pinned up against the wall,” he teased back.

He pressed into you, exploring how deep he could go before you started writhing against him. Your leg on his waist tightened, pulling him in and holding him firmly in place for a kiss. 

You knew he might take some convincing, but you were prepared to take all night to show Jonathan just how good things could be, after practicing a little patience.

[argreion]

Respect Your Elders.

A/N: Changed my thought mid writing about sleepy sex with Leon so now we just go basic. FUSSY TIRED MAN DIDN'T LIKE BEING CALLED OLD! Transitition from cuddle to sex might be a little weird but EEEEEE! Got really fuckin' invested in writing smut and giving another go. Feel better about this one, ngl. I'm not sorry for this, I literally sat down for like an actual hour so immersed in writng this. ALSO, FUCKING SAW ONE MISTAKE AND I CAN'T FIND IT. So, possibly might have a few mistakes here and there.

Warnings: Just Sex with Leon, so P in V! Breeding kink. Breathplay. Cunnilingus! Small bits of degradation near the end. A little spit exchange too. DI Leon in mind but you can pick and choose! AFAB reader too, btw. All I can say is... Slutty Leon Kennedy :3

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcomed!

Let's be honest, being with Leon wasn't easy. Constantly reminding the poor man to not squint, to take his medication, and to even shave. Watching him pass out on the couch, bed, and even on the floor! Sadly, you can't carry a man that's heavy and full of muscle!

At least he passed out on the bed, and you slowly following afterward…

“Baby, c'mere, it's cuddle time.” He would say in that oh-so lovely voice. Made the girls scream mentally whenever he was just nice. All they could see was the pretty man, unknowingly batting his eyelashes to everyone around him. That pretty smile, too. 

Leon's arm wrapped around you, and chest against your back. Gently squeezing your torso, muscles tensing and relaxing with each squeeze. The T-shirt you wore from him, stolen from his closet. He liked when you did that, made him hard. When you would bend over the kitchen counter and possibly wear his boxers? Old man got a poor boner, daddy is a little horny, baby.

“You're heavy.” You whined, not that you'd admit you liked it. I mean, you loved Leon. He loved you. It was just how the things with you two. Liked the heaviness, the stupidity, the stress, you liked the attention of a broken man picking up his pieces. 

“Mmmm, heavy? The only thing heavy here is your ass.” A snort came from him as he said it. Yeah, he liked ass. Always did a smack-by whenever you walked past him. Especially when you were in the kitchen. Made his little domestic mindset bust a nut, literally.

His stubble brushed into your neck, with the purr of delight that he captured a beauty. Wrapping his other arm around you, under the side of your waist. Uncomfortably pushing into your side.

“So pretty, like an angel, baby. God must've been here to send you from the heavens. Must've hurt when you fell. Could've caught ya.” Oh, those sweet words he would always say. You knew he meant them, of course he did. If you had to say, it was a little depressing. Something just about the way he moved, spoke, and acted made your heart ache. It was probably the drinking he did, albeit it was better than a year ago.

“Don't think God sent me from the sky, Leon.” You responded with, head buried in those satin pillowcases. They felt nice on your skin, and nicer to grab when you got fucked.

“Would've broke a bone, and plus, I doubt you could catch me, old man.”

Oh, you poor poor soul. Don't call him old! He might cry, see, he's crying from his dick! Little slut, he liked that. Go ahead, weep a little more, baby boy! Also, the fact you just called him an old man to his face? Pfft, you're so on.

“I'm not that old, c'mon.”

He grunted, huffing into your neck like an angry toddler when they didn't get to snack on their favorite dino nuggets. Exaggerated heavily, and his grip tightened to push the point, he didn't like that.

“Ever heard the term respect your elders, little kid?” Leon asked, a threat hiding beneath it. Knowing the way he is, you have three seconds before he pins you to the bed and makes you squirt.

Already knowing what was going to happen, you made a lazy attempt to get out the 'terrifying' grasp of this old man. Moving to slide off the bed, but that didn't work.

His hand grabbed your shoulder, screaming this is your fault. You made me do this, and he wasn't going to be sorry at all. Pulling you back into the bed, head pushed into the pillow. Eyes staring wide up at him as he pinned you to the bed. Brows furrowed and face determined to prove otherwise. Hands pushing you into the bed by your shoulders. Yet gentle enough to not leave a bruise. That made your thighs clench, so cute.

“This old man still got it, baby doll. You really wanna play this game? I'll play it, too.” He'll play this game dirty, naughty, sexy.

Leon leaned forward, gently capturing your lips in a kiss. Passionately and slowly making out with you. Twirling your tongues around like it was his day-job. Maybe it was, seeing how he eats pussy so fucking good. Trying to ignite that burning passion he always liked. On the kitchen counter, his motorcycle, the car, work, the list went on and on. Hand trailing lower and lower as he occupied your mind. Tongue occupying your mouth. Expensive cologne pungent off his body, surrounding you in him.

Your whines being muffled from the kiss, making the old man pull away. That damning cocky smirk on his face as he taunted you,

“Oh, sorry, I didn't hear you. Speak louder, honey.”

A moan came from your lips as he pinched your clit. Making you claw at the pillows beneath your head. Hand slapping your cloth panties. Electricity running up your spine to your head.

“Fuck, d-daddy!” You choked out, watching as he teased and toyed you. He just had to fuck around with you. Put the young one in his place, like a rookie at work, the karens at stores. Leaning to your ear

“She's so needy, babydoll. Need your old man to make it better? But you probably don't like an old man, hm? Rubbing his fingers over your folds and clit.”

He hissed into your ear, nibbling on the edge. Pulling away to look down at those cute cotton panties. He always ruined them, sniffed them, came in them. His panties, too. Always will be his panties. Moving to move those panties aside, tugging them to reveal that glistening feast. Sopping wet for him to bury into. Like the breakfast at IHOP or McDonald's he would get. Devoured in mere minutes.

Leon positioned himself between your thighs, nose buried in your folds. Sniffing the sweet scent it emitted. That slightly tangy taste it had as well. He breathed it in like his last breath. The last meal he would have before death row. Being executed for serving his country too well, and serving your cunt, as well.

“Could get used to this any day. Wish my job was as easy as sitting down and eating this precious purr-ty pussy. Mewing for some milk, like always.” He purred, staring at you through his eyes lashes.

“P-purr-ty? What the fuck doe— AH!”

His tongue buried into you, licking up, down, left, and right. Coming up every once in a while to suck your clit. Make him drown in that pussy, baby. He needs it, he needs it like God. Make him get on his knees and pray.

“Didn't say you could talk, baby. Maybe you need a lesson on listening, again.” He tutted, sucking on your nub, again. Making your toes curl and hands clench again. Too good at this, imagine how many moms or younger girls would want this. Those twenty-year-old college girls wanting a middle-aged guy between their thighs. Mmmm, made you wet just thinking about how he's yours.

Tongue swirling, your hips bucking, and hand now buried in his locks. Threatening to pull his hair out. You pressed into his face, in which he pressed back. Drown him, suffocate him, make him die, honey.

Your legs tensed as you neared that high. C'mon, keep going! “I'm gonna— I'm gonna!—”

Selfishly, he pulled away. Wet dripping down his nose to his stubble. Looking at deranged as he looked up, sitting up. Hands fumbling with his shirt as he rushed to fuck into you. He wanted it. No, he needed it. Needed to be buried in that fat fucking pussy. Make it drip with his cum, eat it out, and impregnate it if he could. Wanted to see you leak breastmilk and be full of him.

“Not yet, I didn't say you could. Little slut.”

Noticing the change of pace, you reached out, only to be met with him yanking you. Stomach pressed into the bed, and head pulled back. His free hand tugging his jeans and boxers down. Fuck, he was hard. Harder than steel. His bicep wrapped around your throat, and his nose buried in your hair. Pants of exhaustion coming from him. He got so tired easily, old man in his heart.

Harshly, his hips thrusted against yours. Not even being enough of a gentleman to give a warning shot. No head against your little hole, fully sheathed in. The groan that came from his lips could've made you cum on the spot.

“Oh fuck…”

The claps followed afterward, body moving up and down with his rhythm. Ass moving at the rhythm, as well. Your fingers digging into his arm as he tightened the headlock. Enough to make it pleasing enough, your eyes rolled back. Mouth agape as you sprouted out moans and small noises. Squishy wet sounds following after his thrusts. 

Leon looked down at you, a toothy smile on his face. Always what he wanted, that fucked out look. So sweet, like an angel. Should've gotten his phone, but he was too enthralled in this now. That pretty little mouth needed a little love. So, he pulled your head back more. A small pained moan coming from your lips.

“Need a little loving from daddy, huh? Need daddy to fill this fuckin' cunt with his kids. Wanna stay in this bed full of 'em? Such a good slut, baby. Fuck the Redfield bloodline, Kennedy bloodline is gonna be bigger and stronger than that fuckin' boulder.”

Leon spat straight into your mouth, making you clench. Hitting the back of your throat. It tasted so disgusting, but it was hot. Alongside the few drops of spit, he let drip so slowly into your mouth. The wait was killing you!

“Swallow daddy, baby. Better than Gordon Ramsay, too. With this pussy, you put him to shame.”

Who couldn't obey a man like him? Strong government agent who kills for a living. Wouldn't want to anger daddy, would you? So, you swallowed. Right down your throat, and it made you gag a little. Couldn't say you hated it, it would just make him concerned. He was a softie deep down, always stopping whenever your face changed slightly. Got annoying when you literally just wanted to cum! Like, shut up, and just FUCK ME!

"S'close. Gonna cum for you! Wan' cum!” You whined, moaning pitifully. Ass raised against his pelvis. Balls slapping against your lower half. How would you explain to your parents you're a little cock sleeve to a government agent? I mean, at least it pays in a free apartment, car, and food! Plus whatever you counted Leon as.

“Really baby? That drunk off me? Mmmm, we love to hear that. Let daddy do it for you.” He whispered, voice still like honeyed whiskey.

Hips picking up its pace as it abused your cunt wider and wider. Only for him, and always open for him. Bringing him to the tip of the iceberg as he came inside you. Hips pushing against yours fully, and his tip at your cervix. He panted, burying his face in your neck. Those words, the pace, and his arm. You came on the spot, leaking down his cock and balls. Hands wanting to rip those sheets in front of you. Balled the fabric into your fist. Dripping onto the sheets below.

“Post nut clarity, damn.” Leon chuckled. Arm falling from around your neck. Bringing it down to interlace your fingers. “You good? I didn't, like, y'know? I'm not the best with words, c'mon.”

Mmmmm, body already responding as he gently pulsed around him. Head nodding in response to his query.

“Mhm, happy. Happy you actually didn't worry!”

You smiled, resting your head in your arms as he slowly moved off of you. Not pulling out, of course. He wouldn't do that just yet, gotta keep the package warm.

“Still an old man, by the way.”

His brows furrowed, sighing in defeat. You were supposed to say you learned your lesson! Regardless, he loved you, even if you were very stubborn.

“You're lucky you're cute…” He muttered, kissing your temple. Those very arms from earlier coming to wrap around you again. His chin propped on top of your head. Seemingly pleased he did a good job. Both of you leaking out onto the bed. Would have to clean that up later…

“You're lucky I like old men, Mr. Kennedy.”

He hummed, closing his eyes. A smile plastered on his lips.

“Think this old man needs a nap, honeybun.”

No, Leon DON—! And he fell asleep, right on top of you… In mere fucking seconds. The sex was a 10/10, but the napping part? Wouldn't recommend.

"Dammit..."

Honestly, you gave up right about now. You'll deal with it later, like you always did. Right now, maybe it was about time for a nap. Even if he was heavy, it was a free blanket. Another cuddle, another round of love-making, and a horrible nap?

You'd always do this again and again.

[konigbabe]

PEACH

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 1.7k Tags/warnings: no y/n; domestic Satoru Gojo; Gojo being a menace of a boyfriend in public; eventual smut (part V only) Summary: Gojo's an ass man. Part of my JJKS2 writing week; also written after being inspired by @greycaelum's ask.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

I.

It starts off innocently enough.

Even before you’ve got together, Satoru makes it a habit of his own to give your ass an amicable pat for "good luck" or "to bless him". Make it obvious that the young teacher’s rather fond of his fellow teacher’s backside, going as far as openly making up compliments. Spreading heat through your cheeks when his little game of teasing starts.

("Nice derriere, that skirt’s doin’ you wonders," he says, grinning from ear to ear while watching you walking down the hallway with Ijichi, discussing recent curse spirit’s activities.

Your companion’s breath hitches, a blush spreading over his cheeks when you turn around, "what does that mean?")

But you know Satoru too well, and his quirky sense of humor never fails to amuse you; even when you try to keep your face blank whenever he starts talking. Satoru's compliments are akin to a playful serenade. He isn’t holding back; not even in front of his own students.

("Y’know," forearm resting on your shoulder, he leans closer to you, "your tush deserves its own fan club and I'm officially the first member."

You don’t even look at him, rather starring blanky at the fighting students on the field, "Tush?")

II.

As your relationship with Satoru turns intimate and romantic, his playful teasing takes on a new dimension; it becomes a form of worship.

Lying sprawled on the couch, your head cradled by a pillow nestled beneath your chin, you watch the flickering TV screen with a mind adrift, sometimes diverting your gaze to scroll through your phone. Days off are a rarity amongst jujutsu sorcerers. The teachers especially. So you use the day to relax, unwind and let your body mend and rejuvenate after the latest mission.

The tranquil ambiance, however, is fleeting when Satoru returns. Discarding his shoes and jacket with a careless thud, he drops a small paper bag onto the nearest drawer before making a beeline for your relaxed form.

With a wordless playfulness, he plops the full weight of his body onto your back—or more accurately, the back of his head lands snugly on the supple, rounded globes of your butt.

"Satoru," you whine, neck straining as you try to turn around, "you’re way too heavy."

His arm restrains you, slithering around your lower abdomen like a sinuous serpent, fingers kneading the squeezable flesh of your hip. The other hand lands right at the apex of your back thigh, kneading the subtle build before moving upwards on the lower part of your butt.

"Mmh," he huffs, engrossed in massaging your body, too preoccupied to offer a proper response.

You can’t complain either; Satoru is skillful with his fingers, always knowing which spots to apply the right pressure and leaving you in a state of pure relaxation.

"You want me to stop," he asks after a second to which you promptly deny; letting out a contented sigh, prompting a small chuckle from Satoru. "Then I'm glad you're enjoyin’ it," he says, voice carrying a warm sincerity.

III.

The plates clash with each other, sound loud enough to make you think he broke it instead of washing it. A soft, gentle hum swirls around the air as Satoru moves the sponge in circles.

You watch from the arched doorway. Tall, lean frame covering your view of his task, yet the clanking confirms your initial suspicions. Satoru, focused on the chore, wears a well-worn apron over a simple, black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms that move with practiced precision.

Staying in place, you shamelessly marvel at the sight; watching him set another plate in the drying rack. Eyes gliding over the broadness of his shoulder to the contour of his waist, they land on their target.

Simple grey sweatpants, a black ribbon belt holding them in place, hide your target from your eyes. But you know where to aim when you start taking cautious, quiet steps toward Satoru.

The attack is quick. Calculated. The impact of your palm sends a loud slapping sound throughout the kitchen. A lively laugh escapes your lips at the same time Satoru’s head turns to the side, eyes locking yours in a frozen stance.

You take off.

He doesn’t rush. Calmly continuing to hum the song, he finishes the last dish and puts it on the rack. One hand turning the faucet off with a dangerous nonchalance, the other reaches for the washing cloth. Drying his hands and taking the apron off, he turns to where you ran off.

You make it to the stairs before you feel Satoru’s grip on your wrist, firm but playful. Tugs you backward; gentle force turning you around, bending you at the waist. Arm deftly sneaking around your shoulders, locking your arms by your sides as he stands tall by your side.

"You really thought you could get away with this, peach?"

His fingers, long and slender, dance over the small of your back. Barely grazing the surface of your skin over the material of your shirt; tracing a tantalizing path down your body.

As you squirm within his firm however gentle grasp, a soft and brief laugh escapes your lips, a mix of nervousness and delight. "I didn't mean it," you admit jovially, the words imbued with a tinge of mischief, "I didn't know it would lend so perfectly."

"You didn’t know," Satoru chortles, leisurely placing his palm flat upon the rounded curve of your pants-covered butt, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh, exerting a measured pressure as if savoring the feeling, "Think you can win this?"

With that, his hand leaves your body–

"Wait, Satoru," you try to swat him away but his hold over your upper body remains unyielding, steadfast, allowing him to orchestrate the next move, "Gojo!"

–and he delivers the first slap; earning a surprised yelp from you, body jolting forward. The sound of the impact reverberates throughout the open space, accompanied by Satoru’s contagious laughter as he lets you go. Hand supporting your weight, making sure you don’t fall flat on your face, you still end up on the ground.

The skin of your butt stings as you palm the flesh.

"You’re in for it now, Satoru Gojo," with a daring grin, you prepare yourself to retaliate. Not now. But the time will come.

The man in question throws his hands in the air, smiling brightly as he takes a step back, "Oh, I’m scared."

IV.

"We just need some edamame, more pickled ginger, and white miso," you list the items from your phone, taking the lead as you and Satoru both stroll through the aisles. He holds the basket, staying a good step behind you with his gaze focused on your back, a smile playing at the corner of his lips–eliciting a suspicious feeling out of you.

Even with the obsidian-tinted glasses covering his eyes, the glimmer of amusement in his gaze hasn't escaped your perceptive senses. A whisper of suspicion trails through your mind; you know he's scheming something.

As you approach the edamame section, you start searching for the perfect bag, seeking the one with the right plumpness and vibrancy.

But before you can grab one, Satoru unexpectedly announces “butt-five” before springing forward with playful exuberance, the resounding clap of his hand meeting your butt reverberating through the store like a percussion note, commanding the attention of nearby shoppers.

Involuntarily, you release a startled, high-pitched yelp—a symphony of surprise and embarrassment entwined. But before any further fallout can unfold, Satoru suppresses the escalating situation, covering your mouth with his warm, large hand, and steering you behind an aisle. Out of sight from curious onlookers.

Holding back his laughter, you feel his chest pressed tightly against your back, vibrating as he silently laughs, palm flat against the lower part of your face, muffling the remnants of your outburst.

"Sorry ‘bout that," he manages to stifle his laughter, an undercurrent of amusement still evident in his voice. "Couldn't resist, y’know?"

Through the slight crack between his fingers and your lips, you muster a muffled threat, "I’m gonna kill you.”

He releases his hand, feigning innocence, his eyes wide with mock surprise.

"What?" he questions you, knowing full well the extent of his antics.

"You’re a dead man walking, Satoru Gojo."

V.

Satoru has you in a vice grip; arms encircling the fat of your thighs with unrelenting strength, fingernails making deep crescent moons into your sensitive skin, setting your whole body aflame. Every inch of your being screams for more as you sink into the mattress, burying your face into the pillows to muffle all sounds of pleasure his mouth is drawing out of you.

He’s merciless. Relentless. Ruthless.

Tongue teasing your soaked slit, lapping hungrily at you like a man starved. The tip of his nose gleaming with your juices as he expertly fucks his tongue inside of you.

In and out. Going as deep as the position allows him.

Pulling your body more into him, burying his face into you; so close that it seems as if he wishes to be swallowed by your cunt whole.

You can barely concentrate before he pulls away; especially when another wave of pleasure washes over you. Wet lips worshipping your hungry bud, thin strands of wetness glistening around it, something he greedily laps up before moving upwards. His wet tongue leaves trails of fire along the fleshy swell of your ass, teeth soon following suit as they bite lightly into the plump globes.

Satoru nibbles at the flesh, one hand sneaking back between your legs to cup your sex, tease the entrance with his fingertip, collecting the wetness before pushing in two fingers. He fills you up, soon adds another finger as his mouth continues its sweet assault on your ass.

"Could eat this ass any day–"

He drives his fingers in and out of you. Fast and unrelenting; massaging your walls while making you gasp as he moves his mouth down, licking and biting at your back thighs before concentrating back on your asscheeks.

[divinehedons]

you're losing me.

navigation: how reader broke her ankle

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: ~4.2k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No questions asked. Through hell and high water.

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes, you couldn’t stop it.

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “I… I lo-”

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

“Where is she, kid?”

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[burntheedges]

Maintenance Request Chapter 23

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 2.7k

chapter summary: the end of the semester has arrived, so where does that leave our favorite couple? 💕

a/n: y'all, this is the last chapter. I honestly can't believe it. please send me an ask for the celebration of the end of the fic if you haven't, I would love to answer them -- I'm going to start posting those next week and after as we get to the epilogue. but send me as many as you'd like!

thank you to everyone who has read any part of this fic. if I think about this too much I get really emotional. I can't believe so many of you have stuck around all these week. thank you so much 🧡 and if you're finding this later, please tell me what you think. I will always want to know!

one more big thank you to @katareyoudrilling, who is an amazing beta and who helped make this fic so much better than the draft she saw the first time she read it. 🧡

chapter tags/warnings: construction noises (lol), HCG, reader can wink (author cannot), poetry, cuddling, pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, honey, baby), kissing, grinding, p-in-v sex, semi-public sex, so much fluff

Chapter 23

Friday, December 6 Last day of classes 

You were walking back to your office from your last class of the semester, feeling the relief start to seep through you, when you heard the unmistakable sound of a jackhammer.

You’d know that sound anywhere. 

Turning abruptly, you headed towards the source of the noise. You had a pretty good feeling you knew who might be overseeing whatever work was going on.

Sure enough, as you turned the corner to the future location of the new library, you caught sight of a familiar set of shoulders (and a familiar cocked hip). Joel had his back to you, arms crossed, and was dressed up in his Hot Construction Guy outfit. You grinned. 

When you were about 10 feet behind him, you called out, “excuse me, how long will this noise go on for? Don’t you know classes are in session?” You tried to sound annoyed and tamp down on your grin as he spun to face you. You wanted to pretend to look serious, but he was already smiling at you. You smiled back. 

“I thought classes ended fifteen minutes ago, darlin’.” He raised an eyebrow at you, grinning.

“Maybe so. You should really tell your boss to schedule these things better, you know.” You winked at him and he laughed. 

“You reckon? You know, you aren’t the first person to say so.” Joel stepped closer to you and tucked his arm around your waist. 

“No?” You smiled as he pulled you in. 

He nodded, unable to hold back a laugh. “Some gorgeous professor who really hates me told me the same thing.”

You raised your hands to his shoulders. “She sounds like a real piece of work.”

He laughed and ducked down to press a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled into it and felt the stress of the last week of classes start to fall away from your shoulders. It was soft and comforting and warm, but it didn’t last long — a sharp whistle from the construction site interrupted you. As you broke apart you realized the jackhammer noise had stopped. 

You looked up and were met with the eyes of the entire crew there at your end of the site. All of them were grinning at you. You felt your cheeks start to get warm.

“Slacking off again, boss?” One of them called, clearly teasing. The others laughed, and one made his way over to you as they got back to work. 

“You must be the reason Miller here’s been in such a good mood lately.” The man was tall and dressed similarly to Joel. He nodded at you. “Jesse. Nice to meet you.”

You laughed a little and patted Joel on the shoulder as you introduced yourself. “Was he that much of a grump before?”

Joel groaned and rolled his eyes. Both of you grinned at him. 

“Well, he definitely never got out of the office this much, before. He’s all over campus lately. For a while we thought he was checking on our work, hovering and sticking his nose in, until we figured out the real reason.” He winked at you. “And I caught him humming yesterday while he was doing paperwork.” Joel ran a hand over his eyes and sighed. 

You laughed again. “You know I had no idea he was the boss, for a while.”

Jesse’s eyes lit up. “Seriously, Miller? You didn’t tell her?” He looked at Joel, starting to grin. “What, you didn’t want to brag or something?”

Joel sighed. “Look—“

You elbowed him and he grabbed your hand. “He thought I knew, but he was also afraid I’d find out and blame all the noise problems on him.”

Jesse laughed and Joel shook his head. 

“Anyway, it was nice to meet you. I’ve got to head back to my office and finish up some stuff. Joel, I’ll see you soon?”

He nodded. “I’ll meet you there before we leave.” 

You smiled – you were having dinner at his place tonight, and Sarah had planned something special to celebrate the end of the semester. You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “See you then. Bye, y’all!” You called your farewell to the crew and they all waved. 

“Nice to meet you!” Jesse called back, and as you walked away you heard him tease Joel, “how’d you get so lucky, man?”

Joel’s gruff voice answered, “don’t know. Been thankin’ my lucky stars for it every damn day, though.” You smiled and decided you’d tell him later that you felt the exact same way. 

…

Later that night, after you’d had the amazing dinner Sarah had come up with (with Tommy’s help), and after you’d spent some time just chatting with them around the table, she headed out for a sleepover and Tommy left to drop Sarah off and then meet a woman. (That’s all you knew about her. He was being oddly secretive, and Joel had been complaining about it for days. You didn’t even know her name.) 

As twilight set in, you found yourself relaxing side by side with Joel on a padded lounge chair in his back garden. He’d finally given you a tour a few weeks back and you were starting to wish you could spend more time here. It was beautiful, and peaceful, and full of clever little nooks like this one to relax in. The paths were lined by tall bushes and wound around before opening up into a shady area at the very back. You were certain you still hadn’t seen all of it. 

Joel had also finally admitted that he did used to have some of the plants that made you sneeze, but he’d uprooted them as best he could to gift them to a neighbor down the street. It sounded like it had gone pretty well, all things considered.

Technically the lounge chair was probably meant for one person, even though it was wider than most, but you’d squeezed in together. Joel was sprawled out and you were tucked into his right side with your arm across his chest, a light blanket thrown over both of you.

The semester was over and you were almost free, except for some grading. You were enjoying the quiet moment with him, enjoying the beauty of the work of his hands all around you, when he suddenly tensed. 

“Joel? What is it?” You tilted your head to up to catch his eye and found him with a worried look on his face. You bit your lip.

He sighed. “I have a surprise for you.”

You sat up, leaving your hand on his chest. “A surprise? Why do you sound like that’s a bad thing?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you askance. “Well, let me just show you.” He sat up a bit and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. You watched as he unfolded it slowly and carefully but didn’t catch a glimpse of any of the writing on it. You turned so you were sitting facing him and tucked the blanket around your shoulders. 

Once you were settled he nodded to himself and reached out to take your hand. “Ok.” He took a visibly deep breath, and then he started reading, voice deep and warm.

“…you are a concordance of person, number, voice, and place, strawberries spread through your name    as if it were budding shrubs,”

At the first line he recited, you gasped and tightened your grip on his hand. You knew this poem. You’d read it before. He’d started somewhere in the middle, but you knew it, still. You felt your eyes start to tear up. 

“how you remind me    of some spring, the waters as cool and clear (late rain clings to your leaves, shaken by light wind), which is where you occur in grassy moonlight:    and you are a lily, an aster, white trillium or viburnum, by all rights mine, white star    in the meadow sky,” 

You hadn’t memorized it, like Joel clearly had – he’d barely glanced at the paper in his hand, even closing his eyes after the first few lines. But he didn’t rush. His pace was slow and steady and sure. You watched his mouth form the shape of these beautiful words and you felt them wash over you and tug at something in the center of your chest. 

“the snow still arriving from its earthwards journeys, here where there is    no snow (I dreamed the snow was you, when there was snow), you are my right, have come to be my night (your body takes on    the dimensions of sleep, the shape of sleep    becomes you): and you fall from the sky with several flowers, words spill from your mouth in waves, your lips taste like the sea, salt-sweet (trees    and seas have flown away, I call it loving you):”

You sucked in a sharp breath at that line as it sent a shiver down your spine. You remembered the ending and felt a tear slip down your face as you started to smile, helplessly. 

“home is nowhere, therefore you,    a kind of dwell and welcome, song after all,    and free of any eden we can name”

When he finished, you squeezed his hand hard and his eyes flew open. He looked so nervous you could barely stand it. 

“Joel!” You said his name forcefully, and he blinked. His hand came up to cup your cheek and he brushed his thumb gently under your eye.

“Shit, darlin’, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Was it bad?”

“Bad?!” You reached up to hold his hand against your face and turned to kiss his palm once, twice, three times in quick succession. “Joel, that was beautiful. I— I had no idea you—“ you trailed off, tongue-tied. “I loved it.” You felt him thumb away another tear gently and smiled. “I loved it so much. Where did you read it?”

He was smiling at you now, clearly relieved. “In that book you loaned Sarah. She helped me. I’ll be honest, at first I just said I wanted a love poem and we found it because of the flowers.”

You grinned at him. “That’s a great way to find a poem, Joel. Through what you love.”

He nodded, looking sheepish. “Well, the first time I read it, I knew it was true. About you.” You tilted your head, wondering which part he meant. “You are those things, to me. Moonlight, and flowers, and everything else. And a home.” 

You felt your tears start to well again as you nodded. “Joel, that’s beautiful. I love that poem. And I loved hearing you say it. I–” You closed your mouth abruptly. You’d almost continued I love you, but you were somehow still afraid. Maybe it was too soon. Even if you felt it, so much, more than ever in this moment. 

He brushed his thumb across your cheekbone and smiled at you. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He pulled you forward and you fell into a kiss, crawling into his lap. You wanted to be close, as close to him as possible. He welcomed you and wrapped his arms around you.

You broke the kiss to press your forehead against his. You closed your eyes and spoke, unable to hold it in any longer. “Love is a place. A home. I’ve always believed that home can be a person, and love the home you make with them.” 

You heard him whisper your name and smiled. You leaned back slightly to meet his eyes, and saw he had tears in his, too. You frowned. “Joel, are you–”

“I love you.” He interrupted you. His voice was deep and firm and it stole your breath away. 

“Joel,” you breathed his name, eyes wide.

“I know it’s too early, sweetheart, but I do. I love you and I need you to know it. I want that with you. To build a home. To be each other’s home.” He lifted his right hand to cup your face again and your next intake of breath felt like a sob. “I want everything with you.”

You steadied yourself with your hands on his chest and searched for your words. “Joel, I love you, too. So freaking much.” You watched as his expression was transformed from nervous to delighted.

He grinned. “Say it again, honey.”

“I love you, Joel Miller.”

“And I love you.”

You cut him off before he could say your name, pushing forward into a hard kiss. He wrapped his arms around you again to pull you tight against him.

“How’d I get this lucky,” he murmured against your lips. 

You smiled. “I heard you say that earlier. I think I’m the lucky one, you know.”

He shook his head. “No way, darlin’.”

You laughed and he buried his face in your shoulder. “Well, we can just be lucky together.”

He smiled against your neck and you felt him start to worry a new mark into your collarbone. You sighed and tangled your fingers through his hair. 

“As long as we’re doin’ it together, honey, we can be whatever you like.” He nipped lightly at your neck and you shivered. 

Joel leaned back and pulled you into another kiss. His hands slid down your back and grasped your hips. You gasped as he pulled you forward, grinding against you. You could feel his cock through both of your pants and you tried to widen your legs around his hips, tried to feel him where you wanted him most.

“Ever had sex out here?” Your voice was breathy as you asked and he hummed. 

“Never.” His hands slipped forward around your waist and undid the button of your pants. “Was waitin’ for you.”

You laughed a little, charmed by the absurd idea. “You didn’t even know I existed when you grew this garden, Joel.”

“Hmm,” he mumbled, pushing your pants down over your hips. You shimmied out of them and came back to rest your naked pussy over his still-clothed cock, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders. You rocked forward and sighed happily when he spoke. “I was still missin’ you, baby. Was lookin’ for you. Just didn’t know it yet.”

Your heart swelled and you swallowed against the sudden tightness in your throat. “I was looking for you too, Joel.” You reached down to undo his pants and quickly pulled his cock free. He was devastatingly hard.

“‘M so happy I found you, sweetheart.” He tugged your hips forward and up, notching the tip of his cock right at your entrance. “I love you.” He murmured it right against your lips as he pulled you downwards, as you sank down steadily on his cock.

You moaned as you came to rest against his hips. The way he filled you was perfect, every single time.

“I love you so much, Joel Miller,” you almost sobbed his name as he urged you with his hands to begin moving. You rocked your hips against his and he leaned forward to rest your foreheads together. You could feel his breath against your lips and it was suddenly the most intimate thing you’d ever done, moving together like that, so close, so connected. It felt like every part of you was touching every part of him, like something inside of you had reached out and latched onto him and wouldn’t let go.

He whispered your name again and you shivered. “I love having you here.”

“Here?” You smirked and twisted your hips and reveled in his moan. 

“Here in my lap – yes. Always.” He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You look so good sitting on this cock, honey. Was made for you.” 

You moaned at his words and rocked your hips forward. 

“Goddamn,” he breathed. “Yes. But I meant, I want you here all the time, honey. I was going to wait, shit–” he cut off abruptly when you ground your hips downward against him. “But please, baby, say you’ll move in. Come live with us.” You gasped. “Make this your home.”

There was a feeling rising up in you that was so huge, so overwhelming, you didn’t know what would happen when it spilled out. It felt like happiness and love and everything you felt every time you locked eyes with this man, every time he looked at you.

“Yes, Joel.” He shuddered. “Not today,” you laughed and he joined you, rueful. “But yes. I want to make a home with you.”

He groaned as he thrust into you again, and you wrapped yourself around him and let the joy take over.

...

a/n: 😭 please let me know what you think. I love all of you and I'll see you next week for the epilogue. in the meantime please send me as many celebration asks as you'd like.

The poem featured in part in this chapter is "You, Therefore," written by Reginald Shepherd for his partner, Robert Philen. Please go read it. Shepherd wrote it knowing he was dying and that his partner would outlive him (and Philen did, in fact) and it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever read.

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[vinyldreamsfuckup]

So High School

A: this was a random thing I came up with. I hope it’s cute

Warnings: fluff, drinking, smoking weed, smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, Kirk x fem

You and Kirk had been together since your sophomore year of high school. You were both the "weird" kids in high school. So when you got sat next to each other in third period history it almost felt like fate. You talked to each other nearly everyday since then. You always loved how much Kirk loved his comic books and horror movies. You could listen to him go on and on for hours and never get bored of him talking. You’d been in love with him since the moment you met him. When he joined Metallica you quickly became friends with all of the guys. You’d loved watching him play and being around him. There was simply just nothing better than being with him.

Though, one thing you never did was go to prom. It felt stupid and it seemed like a dumb thing to think about, but when you looked back at pictures from high school you’d always wished you had a picture in some stupid dress standing next to him. He knew this. He hated high school dances and didn’t really care, but he knew it was important to you, so when he surprised you with a “prom” at your old high school you were over the moon. It was just you, Kirk, James, Cliff, and Lars but it was going to be perfect regardless. Because you had him.

You wore a long, mint green, satin dress. It was a corset like dress that helped extenuate your body while still trying to look nice. There were laces up the back that showed your freshly tanned skin. Kirk wore a white shirt that was only halfway buttoned and black jeans with his black converse. He never cared for school dances in high school but he knew this was important to you and he wanted to do this to surprise you. So if you could only get jeans and a nice shirt then you’d take it. It being mostly unbuttoned was just a plus. You were standing in your backyard waiting for him to walk out with your corsage.

"You look beautiful," Kirk said as he walked out of the house. A smile spread across your face.

"Thank you, baby. You don't look too bad yourself," You giggled. Kirk chuckled and grabbed the corsage and wrapped it on your wrist. James and Lars giggled as they were snapping picture after picture as the two of you got ready. Kirk leaned in, his lips touching your ear.

"We should just ditch the whole thing. I can take you to the hotel and we can have a good time," Kirk whispered. You playfully hit his shoulder.

"Pose for the damn picture," You laughed out. He rolled his eyes and put his hand around your waist and looked at the camera. The two of you smiled taking a couple nice pictures before you both broke out into silly faces. Kirk ushered me to his car and we got in.

"You sure you wanna go to the dance and not just back to the hotel?" Kirk asked as he started the car. You laughed.

"I'm sure. Now lets go try to have a good time," You responded.

That's what the two of you did. You went and danced and ate some food. You both drank and smoked weed, getting undeniably high as fuck. You talked all night long, not even worrying about anything else. James, Lars, and Cliff all brought random girls to keep them company. They were all dressed up and getting shitfaced. You couldn’t help but smile at how sweet the whole thing was, but mostly you were just focused on Kirk and how happy he made you. You grabbed his hand and lead him out into the hallway and to your old locker. He pushed you against them just like he used to and connected your lips in a feverish kiss. The taste of weed and beer still on his you.

“Can we go back to the hotel now?” Kirk mumbled against your lips, his hand traveled up the strings of your dress, grazing the skin.

“Mhm…” You mumbled back with a nod. Kirk smiled and lifted you up bridal style before running back toward his car. You giggled as he ran.

You quickly arrived at the hotel and he lead you into the room and sat you on the edge of the bed. Your heart was full everything feeling so heightened. You two had sex all the time but for some reason this felt so much more intimate. He sat next to you on the bed and carefully undid the ties of your dress. He helped you out of it before pressing his lips to yours.

“You’re beautiful,” Kirk breathed out as he pushed you down on the bed. He trailed kisses down your chest and torso. His hands hooked around the lace of your thong before carefully pulling it off. A small groan left his lips as he stared at you, “so beautiful.”

He gently kissed down your thigh before settling between your legs. He licked between your folds groaning as he did so. Your hand tangled in his hair as a moan left your lips. He started to fuck you with his tongue, his thumb rolling against your clit.

“Fuck…Kirk…” You moaned out as your hand tangled into his hair. Kirk’s tongue quickly pumped in lapping up every last molecule. He groaned as he moved feeling you spasm beneath him.

“You’re so good,” Kirk mumbled, “So wet. So good.”

Your hips bucked against his tongue. He pressed your waist down on the bed and started to move his tongue quickly. His thumb spreading up against your clit. You were soon moaning out and finishing all over his tongue. He licked up your slick before standing up.

Your hands went to his shirt and quickly undid the rest of the buttons while he pulled himself out of his jeans. He was now standing in front of you naked, his dick standing tall and ready for you. He quickly pushed into you a loud moan leaving your lips as you adjusted.

“You’re so beautiful.” He groaned, “you’re so fucking wet.”

His hips started to rock and long moans left your mouth. Your hands gripped his back and your nails slowly raked down his back. He moaned out in a mix of pleasure and pain. He slowly picked up his pace ramming into you harder. He picked up your thigh and he lit by his stomach adjusting the angle. He fell in deeper hitting every spot perfectly.

“Kirk…oh my god,” you moaned out.

“That’s it, baby,” Kirk breathed out. He moved slightly faster.

“Don’t stop. That’s it. Yes…” you moaned out. He nodded and kept his pace ramming into you over and over. Your body started to shake and you loudly came, his name falling from your mouth

“Fuck…” Kirk groaned out. His hips still moving quickly chasing his orgasm. Your moans turned into loud whimpers as he kept going. Overstimulated and sensitive as he kept moving against you.

“Come on baby,” you whined. His head fell back and a loud moan left his mouth. He pulled out and came all over your stomach.

“Fuck…” Kirk said breathlessly. You nodded in agreement.

“Was this a good prom night?” Kirk chuckled out as he pulled away for a moment.

You nodded and smiled, “wouldn’t imagine it any other way, my love.”

[kindestofkings]

sunshine baby [1]

robert keating x reader (she/her)

faceclaim: gracie abrams (ofc hahah)

authors note: hello hello! this is a really random one, I am a broken record but I am self projecting in these hence why the reader is always home friends with the boys. also theres so many time skips lol

I really home you enjoy, would really appreciate any feedback or comments yee might have <33

2020

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername 2 months into lockdown we are playing, we are hot girl walking and most importantly we are hot girl drinking 💅

view all 20 comments

bobbyskeetz thanks for choosing the most flattering photos luv x

yourusername any time baby any time :))

yourbestfriend i miss you and your impromptu sing songs <3

yourusername no I miss you so much !! boys are really smelly sometimes 😀 yourbestfriend thats what you get for dating bobby SKEETZ bobbyskeetz heyy yourusername I know right?? bobbyskeetz HEYYYY

elijahhewson there is very little going on behind those eyes

yourusername the bulmers was very warm... and we just lost a zoom quiz

joshjenkinson_ keep our boy sane !

yourusername and whos gonna keep me sane?? whos gonna keep me alive? ryanmcmahon_15 did you put yourself on the line?

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend and others

yourusername as y'all know I dabble with playing some piano andddd my very cool, talented boyfriend and his friends asked me to play on a few tunes for their DEBUT ALBUM. thank you for briefly employing me :))

view all 30 comments

joshjenkinson_ no thank YOU

ryanmcmahon_15 we owe you forever, this is so exciting !

bobbyskeetz as your boss can you make me a cuppa?

yourusername and your legs stopped working when?? also you're closer to the kitchen than I am rn!

bobbyskeetz they just cant take the weight of being such a musical success 😔 friend1 @bobbyskeetz how does she put up with you? bobbyskeetz shh dont make her reflect on her decisions

yourmam so proud of you chicken!!

yourbestfriend and the start of your music career is when?

yourusername oh hush you heheh elijahhewson she asks the important questions yourusername why be a musician when you can be a broke college student right 😀

yourusername posted to their story!

if the boys have zero fans, i am dead.

bobbyskeetz so extreme but I love you <3

bobbyskeetz

liked by joshjenkinson_ and others

bobbyskeetz EVEN BIGGER NEWS !!! Our greatest hits debut album is coming out on July 16th for all you beautiful people to hear. We poured our hearts and souls into this and can’t wait for you to listen . Couldn’t have done it without @theantski @thedrewmanshow @johncatlin @andrea.cozzaglio and all the other talented people who helped get this record finished.

IT WONT ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS !

view all 100 comments

bobbyskeetz ALSO @yourusername for the pretty piano playing

yourusername hushhh rn CONGRATS ON THE SUPERB album

inhalerfan1 i'm seriously so proud of you guys 💙

inhalerfan2 finallyyyy

yourmam well done boys!! huge achievement

bobbyskeetz thank you :))

yourusername

liked by yourmam and others

yourusername it is very cool and a lil strange seeing my fella on posters while im on my daily hot girl walk....

it always be wont this like is out today woooo!

view all 15 comments

elijahhewson I dont remember that photo being taken 😑

yourusername you just release your debut album you gotta celebrate! yourfriend shes just too nice, you were locked.

yourmam lovely photo, why are yee outdoors though? 😂

bobbyskeetz sure we're following covid restrictions! you're looking at four v responsible boys!! yourmam hmmm I don't know about that one now!

yourbestfriend no cause robert and sir hewson would wanna stop looking into my soul..

elijahhewson 😐😐 bobbyskeetz 😐😐 bobbyskeetz what about josh huh he's also throwin some looks yourbestfriend josh can do whatever he wants 🫶🏼 (liked by joshjenkson_ and yourusername)

yourusername oh also everyone compliment ryan on his GORGEOUS hair

yourbestfriend such a power move I adore x yourfriend ryan how does it feel being coolest member of dublin's coolest band?? joshjenkson_ so fit, is he single...?

bobbyskeetz not sure if you got the album name exactly right there..

yourusername huh I dont see anything wrong 🤔

2021

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername the trio is back and just in time to see the boys killing it at fairview park 🔥

view all 15 comments

yourbestfriend forget about them WE are killing it

yourfriend mmhmm we slay 😤

yourbestfriend posted to their story!

when the base player with a staring problem is away, the girlies can steal his girlfriend 🤘🏼

bobbyskeetz oi oi get your feet of my dining table 😤

bobbyskeetz

liked by yourusername and others

bobbyskeetz happy birthday beautiful.

view all 50 comments

inhaler1 this is my thirteenth reason 💔

yourusername miss you rockstar!

inhaler1 miss girl who are you? and can you please accept my follow request

inhaler2 nooooooo you're taken ?!?

ryanmcmahon_15 hundreds of girls heartsbroken with the softest of soft launches haha

lewevans the spooky powers of mr skeetz

yourbestfriend FINALLY you're letting him show you off

yourusername haha this is too much please stop 🥺 🥰

inhalerfanupdates

liked by inhalerfan1 and others

inhalerfanupdates I hope its real cause I need a gun after seeing bobbys soft launch

view all 10 comments

inhalerfan1 im so sad I cant

inhalerfan2 im afraid to ask but how long do you think they've been together

inhalerfan3 i 😭 cant 😭😭 think 😭😭😭 about 😭😭😭😭 it

part 2

[cloudofbutterflies92]

Loverboy

Pairing: Sub!Ghost x f!oc

p in v/masturbation/sex toys/smut (MDNI)

This is a self indulgent thing, if you don't like it keep scrolling

"I always keep my end of the bargain" Eden began to walk around Ghost, sitting in that chair and handcuffed. It had all started with a game, the kind that looks like a joke from some comedy show.

"Y'know I'd like to try one of those sexy toys you showed me, what's it called?"

"Fleshlight, my god you millennials are so backward."

It had gone from joke to action when together they had decided to go to one of the many sex shops, very fancy among other things, very nice clerks etc.

They had come out with there with various toys including the famous fleshlight, Simon's object of desire.

Who now watched Eden sitting on his thigh giving him a few encouraging pats, a few tender kisses and dressed in that green latex outfit. A lethal combination

"Shh it will all be over soon."

"Just a taste" he looked at her with his longing amber eyes, observing her cleavage dangerously close to his lips.

"What have we decided?"

"Only if you want to" he was grabbed by the chin, emitting a soft moan, forcing his head back. Such a big man under the control of a woman? They would have teased him but he didn't care, that woman was all he wanted. All of this was worth it

He saw her kneeling down, taking from the velvet bag the fleshlight, which he waved smilingly.

"I can't believe I'm really doing this shit" a thunderous, raucous laugh from the blond broke the serious atmosphere for a moment.

"Considering we saw together" Eden positioned the object over his cock that was screaming with need "it was you who wanted it, and part that you like to be dominated by me" with her tongue she touched his lips, moving the tip on top.

Ghost tried to reciprocate, sucking her into that kiss. A teasing glint from the brunette caused her to lower herself, massaging his full balls.

Ghost hissed, moving his hips slightly. It was torture not to be able to have her pussy wrapped in his cock.

"Jesus Eden don't stop" he inhaled deeply, whimpering. His manhood was being manipulated by that 'object that Eden was pumping without stopping.

"How do you like uh? Like the poor needy, desperate man you are for some of my pussy" Eden's hand moved frantically, bringing him almost to the limit, then slowing down.

It was a constant bringing him to the edge and then calming down, by now his body was a temple of sweat and desperation.

"Shit, oh shit. I need to cum."

"What do you say?Like a good big boy"

"Please "

Please was enough for her to please him, turning her back, having removed her 'underwear and sitting on him. She tapped the flushed head, enjoying the wet contact in pre cum, positioning her between the warm sponge walls.

"I take you so well" Eden swirled her fingertips over her labia, arching her head against him, who greedily sank his lips onto the snow-like skin.

Eden's vision blurred but she always had that crooked smile as she bounced up and down, trapping him.

"Bunny I need to come, can I come?"

The female nodded biting her lips, moved her pelvis firmly and ruthlessly. Ghost emitted a guttural, needy grunt that led him to spraying his semen between Eden's swollen, glistening labia.

"Fuck I need-" he interjected, trying to return to regular breathing. He stood there grinning like an idiot with still her positioned that way recovering from the experience.

"A movie? How about" she stood up releasing him from the handcuffs "we try watching your favorite movie? You've been a good boy."

Simon's face lit up like a child looking out the window at his favorite toy, getting up from there and taking her in his arms, laughing happily and carefree. Like her loverboy.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

[12:32am]

a/n; just a cute platonic fic before i wonder for another hour if i decide to write something else or not. im reading through the u20 v bllk arc (i think im like halfway through) im like, i could write some good shit with this rq. someone probably wrote something like already potentially but it's rotting my brain rn so. this is totally ooc for rin probably im so sorry

also small bachira mom cameo slay

[platonic] [younger sibling! reader]

your brothers.. are cool.

rin and sae, your big older brothers who loved playing soccer. you watched them play everyday and they always looked like superheroes in your young eyes.

you grow up alongside them, just a year or two younger as you try to find what you want to do. do you want to win with them? do you want to live a peaceful life?

what do you want to do?

you don't know. you're lost without the guidance you wanted. you've been watching your brothers all this time that you lost track of yourself.

you come to realize that what rin talks about.. rings true for you as well.

that sae is just so far away from you both. but you feel far from rin too.

when did that happen?

you can only watch as your brothers fight in a colosseum called soccer where everyone in the audience is thirsty for a fight. where the new recruits meet the pro gladiators and then the pros crush them under their experienced swords and chains.

but this was different. you could feel it in the intense air. you were not even close in terms of seating to see your brothers. even with the seat you were offered from a really nice lady, you could barely see them. but you know that chilling air anywhere.

it felt like you were back in that school field with your brothers again. when he came back home from spain.

everything cracked.

"get lost rin. you're not necessary in my life anymore."

you watched as your brothers broke everything you believed in. how you three would stay together, how you would be there to cheer them on every match you could, how you would happy with them by your side.

your parents weren't even here to see the destruction they caused. the absolute pain they unintentionally inflicted on the three itoshi siblings. you came here on a whim, you wish you could say.

if you were really being honest, you really missed them. sae was always busy, and rin was in blue lock the whole time. so that left you alone.

"are you here with your family, dear? where are they?" that nice woman from before sits beside you, worried that you're all alone in this stadium.

"n-no. i'm alone." you're flustered by the sudden attention from her. "i'm here to.." you paused for a moment, "..to support my brothers."

"oh! that's so sweet! i'm supporting my own son! your brothers must be really good as well."

when was the last time you felt warm like this?

from just a simple talk with a lovely mother has you boiling with pain and longing.

why couldn't you feel this warmth with your family?

"yeah." you nodded curtly.

when the timer ticks down, you watch with dull eyes as rin and sae fight on the field again. you almost thought they would get cards for how aggressive this was. and before you know it.

blue lock wins.

and you don't know how to feel.

you saw the monster that rin was, tearing every person apart against their strongest assets. and you saw the monster that sae was, constantly calculating his way to win optimally.

today was the day that rin finally beat him.

and today was the day soccer changed japan.

the two week rest was now given to the blue lock members, and you haven't seen much of rin. that still hurt.

but you did catch him one day.

"rin.." you encounter him on a late night, hearing a set of heavy footsteps before you went to bed. "rin." you don't address him as your brother anymore. you wonder when you started making that habit.

"what?"

"you did well." you don't know what to say when you finally manage to have a chance at a proper talk with at least one of your brothers. he scoffs at your weak voice but you continue, "i saw everything. i attended the match."

"then you should know that i didn't do enough."

"i don't think like you and sae, i don't know as much as you two do-"

"i'm still far away from him now." you stay silent as he trembles with frustration and anger. "i'm gonna beat him and that stupid isagi.. "

your mouth is dry with confusion. you can't find it in you to talk to him like you once did as a kid. but you manage, "does this mean i'm gonna be alone again?"

it's his turn to go silent. his back faces you while he stares at his bedroom door.

"how long am i gonna be alone again?" you ask.

"until i beat our good for nothing shitty brother and that idiot isagi."

".. okay." you reach to open your bedroom door, "when you see sae again, tell him i said hi. i miss seeing you and sae." you confess.

"i don't understand how you miss him."

"the same way i miss you." you open your door, looking out at your bland bedroom. not a single trophy seen, not a single sign of any sports prowess, nothing that defined you. "you're both too far away from me. and i can't catch up." you sigh. "i'm just the talentless third kid after all."

"with that attitude, you deserve it." he opens his bedroom door and it's the complete opposite of yours. littered with awards and trophies and a single photo frame of the last time you've seen rin and sae happy.

"i know."

[patdkoala]

The Golden Globes

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x female reader Summary: Sebastian Stan and the reader are close friends and one night when he goes to the Golden Globes he gets worked up being there without her. Only one thing can make him feel better. Warnings: Friends to lovers, hair pulling, unprotected p in v, The Pullout Method™

"I'm exhausted," Sebastian said as he did his curl-ups with Don. "Because of the workout or?" Don's eyes trailed over to (Y/N) who was doing squats with her trainer a few feet away from Sebastian.

"No, (Y/N)'s just a friend, man. I don't know why everyone thinks we are together," Sebastian said as Don rolled his eyes.

(Y/N) and Sebastian has been friends forever and is always cast in movies together.

They have played siblings, friends, a married couple, a friends-with-benefits couple, an enemies-to-lovers couple, and any other couple you could think of in any trope.

Yet, they have remained friends. Nothing has ever even made them question their friendship.

Not even (Y/N) in tight yoga pants doing intense workouts in front of Sebastian.

"If you don't make a move on her someone else will," Don said as Sebastian stopped his workout. "I don't think that's what (Y/N) and I are tho. She's a friend and I'd hate to have something compromise that," Sebastian said as he saw (Y/N) and her trainer have a conversation.

"He is so cute. I just don't understand why you haven't gone out with him yet," (Y/N)'s trainer said as (Y/N) dried herself off with a towel and glanced over to Sebastian.

He was doing curl-ups and looked so good. His toned chest expanded while his arms flexed and caused a certain sensation in between (Y/N)'s legs. She quickly looked away.

"Sebastian is just a friend. I wouldn't want to ruin what we have by doing something so foolish like having sex," (Y/N) said as her trainer rolled her eyes.

"If you don't make a move soon then another girl is just going to swoop right in."

Later that day, Sebastian was getting ready for Golden Globes because he was up for an award with the show Pam and Tommy. (Y/N) was so proud of him but she wasn't going with him because they had discussed previously that being seen together all the time isn't good for either of their reputations.

"Are you sure you'll be okay just here by yourself?" Sebastian asked as he slipped on his suit jacket. (Y/N) was seated on their couch.

They are roommates. ohmygod they were roommates. (Y/N) moved in with Sebastian after her last boyfriend and she broke up. He was a creep and cheated on her. She was living with him at the time so Sebastian offered his couch which soon turned into her moving into his office which became her room.

"Yes, I'll be okay. I'm gonna watch a movie and then go to bed early since I have nothing better to do," she smiled as Sebastian smiled back, and then he grabbed his keys and left.

(Y/N) did not watch a movie or go to bed early. Instead, she stayed up and watched the Golden Globes.

Sebastian walked the red carpet and many photographers took his picture while screaming at him. "Sebastian! Where is (Y/N) tonight?" Someone yelled at him.

He ignored the people's cries and just continued smiling and walking the rest of the carpet.

(Y/N) was at home and was watching this woman interview celebrities. She was really good at her job but (Y/N) only cared to see Sebastian get interviewed.

I mean, that's what good best friends get excited about right?

"Sebastian Stan is here tonight looking so handsome in his suit from Lanvin," The woman spoke as Sebastian smiled and looked at the camera as it panned over his suit.

"Who have you brought as your date tonight?"

"No one. I am flying solo tonight," Sebastian said as (Y/N) sat there and scooped spoonfuls of ice cream into her mouth and smiled at how nice Sebastian looked.

"No (Y/N) tonight? Maybe you'll be going home with someone new after the show," She said as Sebastian sort of rolled his eyes.

The interview ended shortly after that and Sebastian seemed unpleased with how it went. He went home empty-handed in more ways than one.

"Hey, you're home early. I'm sorry about what happened. I sat up and watched the whole thing," (Y/N) said as Sebastian walked through the door and kicked off his designer shoes, and threw off the designer jacket.

"I just hate how they talk about you like you're just some new fuck buddy of mine. It's not fair to either of us," Sebastian said as he slumped down on the couch next to her.

"I wasn't talking about the interview. I was talking about the awards but yeah, let's make this about me," she said as he smiled at her and she lifted her legs and rested them on his lap and then moved the blanket that was just covering her to cover the both of them.

"Why can't everyone be as nice to me as you are?" Sebastian asked as she ran a hand through his hair. "Because not everyone is your best friend."

"Right, friends," he said softly. "What, is there a problem with me being your friend now?" She asked as he turned his head and he rested both arms on her legs.

"I just wish we were more sometimes," He said as she turned a bright shade of pink. "Sebastian you're drunk." "I didn't have a single drink tonight. I didn't make it to the after party and I wanted to stay sober so that I could make it home to you and do this," He said as he leaned over and planted a kiss on her lips.

She held the back of his head gently as he moaned into her mouth. She still had her legs resting upon his lap as he let his hands move to her face.

He cupped her cheeks and then he let his hands go all on their own in her hair. They tangled in at the roots and tugged slightly as she went to his shirt and started to undo the buttons.

"I need you," Sebastian moaned as (Y/N) took her shift off and threw it across the room. "Then take me," She replied as he smirked and he started to undo his belt buckle.

She stood up and removed her pants and underwear and then once he had his belt undone he removed his pants and he lowered his boxers just enough to spring out.

She smiled at him and for a minute they locked eyes and he cupped his hands on her face again. "I have been waiting for this for so long with you. I love you so much, (Y/N) and I never want anyone to ever hurt you ever again," He said as she smiled and then sat down on his cock while kissing him.

They both moaned in pleasure at the first initial feeling. Which then turned into him moaning and her screaming in pleasure. Their bodies rocked back and forth and up and down.

Sebastian flipped them so that he was on top. "Sebastian, please don't stop. You feel so good," She cried as he trusted faster and harder. "Tell me where you want me," He moaned out in broken words as he trusted as she held onto the side of the couch, clenching her insides which helped him indicate that she was close.

"Anywhere," She moaned as he nodded and then thrusted two final times before she came on his dick and he pulled out and came on her stomach.

He laid down next to her on the couch after he cleaned her up with his shirt. (Such a gentleman)

He held her close to his chest as they then dozed off into sleep.

"I'm not going anywhere without you ever again," He said as she laughed and kissed him.

[aliveinacoffin]

Kinda request

hi! I just wanted to ask if u could write a fic of any fandom and character of ur choosing! I enjoy reading your fics so much and I would love to read one of your own liking! Thank you and have a great day <333

i love you guys so much i literally would eat a baby for you guys PLS 😭😭 decided to write a gta v fic with micheal because GYATT damn do I love him, also sorry this took so long, I have like, a trillion fics to write 🥲

Wedding Ring

You knew Micheal was married with a wife and kids, and that he went through hell and back to keep them safe and alive. When he goes off this crazy adventure and he has to hide from the cops, where does he go? That's right, the woman who he has been sharing a bed with the last four years.

Fem!Reader: She/Her pronouns and descriptions

TW!: NSFW, cheating, ghosting, manipulation

It was a nice and sunny day, something that was usual for a city like Los Santos. Still, you took advantage of this fact. You were lounging in your backyard with nothing but a swimsuit on, trying to suntan in peace with your music playing loud as possible, enjoying the feeling of the sun's hot rays on your skin. 

That peace was quickly disrupted.

"Why the fuck are you playing music so god damn loud?" A familiar gruff voice barked from behind you. You snapped your eyes open, quickly sitting up to see the offender who disrupted your peace and broke into your house.

"Oh Michael." You groaned, laying back down on the white pool chair. The separated plastic part of the white chair dug in a satisfying way into your back.

"Seriously, Jesus it's eleven in the morning." Michael stumbled over to your phone, angrily smashing the side buttons.

"Damn who shit in your cereal? Or maybe drink would be better." You scoffed, pissed that he was even here. The old man hadn't contacted you in months, ghosting you after he fucked you in some shitty motel near sandy shores. 

"An old friend of mine and my whole fuckin' family." Michael mumbled, and you watched him behind your black sunglasses approach the bottom of your sunbleached chair, resting his hands on your ankles. He looked down, light green eyes watching his hands trave circles in your ankles. With his motions, his gold wedding ring glittered in the California sun.

"Why are you here?" You asked, not bothering to move from your position hands resting on your stomach. Your fingers suddenly felt very bare.

"I just wanted to see you, is that such a crime?" He shrugged, but his hands started to trail higher, now rubbing on your calfs. 

"Well, aside from the fact you haven't spoken to me in months, let a lone texted me. No, I guess not." You pulled your legs away, sitting on the side of the long chair. You still watched him, hands grabbing tightly on the metal, burning the palms of your hands.

"You know how it is, life gets in the way." He tried to wave you off, shrugging his shoulders. Michael had already taken off his suit jacket, white shirt looking grey with your vision. So he expected you to just hop on his dick right away?

"Yeah, I'm sure it does. With your wife and family keeping you busy." You got up, walking over to grab your phone and speaker.

Michael didn't say anything to that, instead he just watched you. He silently followed you inside, stopping you from closing the sliding glass door on him.

"Seriously Michael, why are you here?" You growled at him, not bothering to spare a glance back at him. You stopped at your sink, resting your knuckles on the metal appliance. His heavy footsteps followed you, and through the window above the sink you saw him come up behind you, watching you.

"I just have a lot of stress, and my therapy is always telling me to get rid of it." Michael's large hands rested on your hips, still watching your face.

"Then go to your wife. I'm obviously not anybody to you." You looked down, unable to meet his watchful gaze. Instead, you regrettable made eye contact with his ring. "Go home, go to your fuckin' over priced shitty therapist and your shitty family that your always whining about." You snapped, but you made no motion to move away from his hands.

"They left me." He admitted lowly, and that made you look up. Michael was not an honest man, he was a lying hypocrite who constantly cheated on his wife. He was always the type to skirt around the truth when it harmed him and constantly complained when he could. The man had left a life of crime, that much you knew, and ever since had regretted it.

"Why?" You asked softly, making eye contact with him again in the window. It was hard to see him, with your glasses and the bright sun outside, so you opted to take them off, making the appeal of Michael much clearer. Though, you couldn't stand stand look at him.  Michael loved making eye contact with you, for a reason you never knew. But it absolutely pained you to watch his eyes fill with want and desperation. 

"I'm not a good man. I chase things that I'll never get, things I can never keep." He leaned over your back, breathing into your neck. He pushed your hips back, pulling you flush against him. His hands wormed their way under the elastic of your bottom, rubbing and pinching the fat there. He pressed gentle kisses into your neck, lightly nipping the skin that was presented to him.

"Is that right? What about the things you have?" You knew for Michael no matter what he did, no matter what he got, nothing would ever be good enough for him. The perfect life he could have in his own expensive mansion is ruined by his own self hate and incompetence. 

He just scoffed at that, like the very notion of his luxury car and permanent retirement from life was so hard, something to just be brushed off like nothing.

"What about me? When will I stop being enough? Or have I already?" You asked, stopping his movements. He had already gotten the strings halfway down your ass, reaching just the top part of your bottom. Michael stilled, unmoving against your warm body.

"No, I can never get enough of you. I had to work on my marriage, but I never stopped thinking about you." Michael admitted, and that made your head hung low. You knew he was prone to just saying whatever would get him into your pants. He always knew what to say the exact words that would make you drop to your knees.

"Or maybe because I'm some pretty young thing who won't give you crabs." You tried to lighten the mood, tried to tease to cover up the aching hole the older man had unknowingly made inside you. He had created a Michael shaped hole in your heart that made you mourn during random hours of the day, and when he would fill it in the late hours of the night it soothed your bleeding heart.

"Hah, maybe." That made you tear up, eyes fluttering while he slipped off your bottoms, groping you fully. You could feel his hard on pressing into you, demanding its way onto you.

He slipped two calloused fingers down, tracing up and down your slit, gathering the wetness that has accrued.

"You act so fucking bratty, but you're so god damn wet." He barked in your ear, mocking you as he slipped a finger in. You sighed, rocking back against his fingers, wanting, needing more. Who knows when the next time he'll come back? 

If ever.

"Come on, you know I can handle way more than that." You rushed, wanting to just get this over with and never wanting this to end.

He tugged on your hair, pulling at your scalp.

"Don't rush me, just shut up and look pretty." Michael's past actions would attest to that, he loved it when you argued, when you threw fits and pouted, he loved every minute of it. Because he knew that if he pushed you for enough, you'd beg for his cock, you'd be crying and whining for it, you'd be crying for him.

Michael never was the one to love a submissive woman, would he like to have one? Sure, any man would. But after a while it would get boring, there'd be no angry sex, no makeup sex, there'd be no back talk for him to shut up. Plus, it would be like speaking to a void, nothing important would actually be said, just a blank woman who agreed to everything and anything.

"Then fuck me silly, hey, that rhymed!" You laughed, before a moan got caught in your throat. Two more fingers shoved themselves into you, stretching you out quickly. It would've hurt more if you weren't already wet and near painfully horny. In truth, Michael was the only man you've slept with in a while. You've had flings with other people, maybe one or two serious relationships thrown in, but when you met Michael, an old depressed angry father, right up your alley might you add, at that disgusting old bar, well, everything and everyone else was thrown out the window. Then, you started seeing each other regularly, you dropped all the people you were talking to, even the sweet girl who had really taken an interest in you, and he had stopped going to cheap hookers, instead going to you solely to satisfy his sins.

He said nothing in response, merely just resuming his harsh treatment of your body, curling his fingers inside you beautifully, his memorization of your body never once faded. Your moans grew louder, curling into your counter until your stomach pressed painfully into the sharp edge.

"Just put it in me already, you old fuck." You spat, trying to push back against him. Michael pulled his fingers out, slapping your ass painfully.

"Watch your mouth when you're begging for my cock." He growled, nonetheless, he pulled down his zipper dutifully and fished himself out. He slid himself up and down your slit  wetting himself with your juices, bumbling and pressing into your clit over and over again. It drove you absolutely crazy, unable to buck and finally just put himself into you. You arched, trying to entice him as much as you could, white knuckle gripping the sink. 

Finally, finally he slowly slid into you, and you both let out a low groan. Michael must've been impatient, since he thrusted his way fully into you, filling you so fast it felt like he was in your ribs.

"Fuh-fuck Micky." You whined, and he wrapped his arms around your middle section and boobs, holding you tight while he absolutely rammed into you. Usually, because of his age and inactivity, he preferred to be on the bottom, let you do all the work. But he must've missed you, maybe he was pent up, or maybe he was taking his anger out on you. Either way, it felt heavenly, his thick cock ramming into you, feeling him drag inside you in and out at a brutal pace, not allowing you to think. 

"Of course you like that, huh? Like my cock inside you, treating you like some cheap slut." He growled in your ear, and it would've made you wetter than you already were if you couldn't feel the cool metal digging into your boob. The reminder of what it meant searing into your soul. You hummed lowly, darting your eyes away from him, finding the counter suddenly interesting. Michael seemed to sense your mood shift, and slowed down, but he never stopped. Instead taking to shallow thrusts inside you.

"What's wrong?" He asked, more annoyance in his voice than care.

"Nothing, why'd you slow down?" You lied through your teeth, trying to buck your hips and resume his pace. But he held you tight and close, even if Michael never really worked out, and was closer to fifty than forty, he still had years worth of muscles underneath.

"Because your poutin', now tell me what's wrong?" He asked again, tone sharp and asking to be tested.

"Your ring." You spat out, feeling slightly ashamed.

"What about my ring?" Michael snapped at you, fully stopping his movements.

"It's digging into me." You knew that wasn't the only thing that bothered you, it haunted you almost everyday knowing you were technically a homewrecker. He had two kids and a wife waiting at home for him, and even if he complained about them, even if both him and his wife cheated on each other constantly, it was still wrong. Usually when you complained about his ring he moved his hand, or set it down gently to the side. But not this time.

Michael groaned, and in one swift movement he threw the ring across the house, and you heard it cling! loudly behind you.

"Michael-" You started to reprimand him, but he bent you over fully on your counter, and let you go. He placed his hands on the counter, using it to slam into you again.

"Oh fuck!" You yelled, eyes nearly rolling into your skull.

"Told you." He was breathless, and you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. 

"To-told me wh-what?" You squealed when he pressed that delicate spongy spot inside you, making you see stars.

"I needed you, all I can think of is you. All your annoying remarks, the way you feel around me, how you look at me like I'm not an absolute piece of shit." Michael leaned down, pressing his head into your neck, nuzzling into you.

"Then why'd you leave?" You managed to gasp out, feeling your orgasm steadily appeared. That wave of pleasure was slowly crashing closer, it made the thoughts in your head become less coherent, nothing mattered aside from the way Michael made you feel.

"I didn't have a choice, I didn't want to. Had to. I never stopped thinking about you." He lifted one hand, and trailed it down, circling your aching clit. You keened, clamping down on him while your vision whited out. Michael grunted, fully pressing himself into you, and you could feel him filling you up, painting your soft walls white.

You both took a minute to breath, still connected while you panted. Slowly, slowly he pulled out of your over-sensitive walls, leaving you achingly empty. You and him just stood there, panting, unmoving.

“So, you gonna dip, or are you going to hang out here for a bit?” You asked, still a little breathless. There was that bitterness again because no matter what Michael said, he’d end up leaving one way or another.

“I think I’ll hang out here for a little bit.” He shrugged, and as you spared him a glance you watched him tuck himself away, not bothering to clean himself. 

You sighed, hobbling over to your bathroom to grab a wet wipe to clean yourself up.

“Whatever.” You called out. “You know where the door is.”

Michae did end up staying for a week or two, sleeping in the same bed as you and spending any time he could with you. For a second you believed he really did change, that he really did want you, instead of what you could offer.

But one day, when you came home from work and called out to no response, you realized he was gone. You sighed, split between wanting to check under the couch or living your life with as little damage to your psyche as possible. 

The former side of you won, your heart pounding in your ribcage. A new wave of sadness ushered over you, your heart aching as your stomach turned, pain overtaking your whole body.

He took the ring with him.

[loveysloveclub]

THE MAN! UMICH AU chapter v. game day

in which, molly's first hockey game goes worse than expected.

molly wasn't usually nervous for hockey games. in fact, she looked forward to having fun on the ice. but that was back home, with the boys she grew up alongside and not halfway across the world with a bunch of boys who had made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with her.

despite her anxiety, molly did a good job as shoving it all in. after all, there was a high possibility that her coach would decide not to play her. majority of the freshmen wouldn't be on the ice tonight.

entering the children of yost arena, molly was taken aback but the sheer amount of people that bustled around her. college kids were taking photos in their university of michigan merch, parents were here to support their children with their numbers on their backs and little kids carried signs around, hoping to get a puck.

sure, there was always a small crowd back home when she played. but the energy in the arena was electric.

"you good, maxxy?" the girl spun on her heel to find her new friend, dylan duke. he watched the girls big eyes with a humorous expression. "i've never seen so many people in the same place to watch a hockey game."

"ah," dylan breathed out, "so young, so naive."

molly couldn't even get out a word of retaliation before he was skipping off down the hallway in search of his locker room, where him and the rest of the boys on the team would be getting ready for the very first game of the season.

the blonde decided, that in order to not be late, she would have to do the same.

walking down the corridors of the arena she had become familiar with, molly couldn't help but look at her new life under a different light.

sure, college wasn't exactly living up to her expectations and she didn't have many friends, but it seemed that the girl had forgotten what she was here to do under all the stress of trying to fit in.

with a new sense of excitement, the girl skipped passed down the hallway, only to halt in her steps at the sound of a few of her fellow teammates. more specifically, her captain that had made is abundantly clear that she did not belong on his team.

"i told you, bro. coach benched her this game, which means she's mediocre, at best, and she's only here to get us some publicity before she's shipped off to wherever she came from."

and just like that, all the excitement was slapped right out of her body and was replaced by an oncoming wave of doubts. sure, she knew she would most likely be benched, but harry's repeated words of publicity stunt and mediocrity brought an onslaught of new self consciousness molly had never possessed before.

harry was right about something though, molly was benched the entire game. she expected this. freshmen almost never play the first game of the season. she just hoped that she would get some game time in the next up and coming weeks.

after the game, molly stood up against a wall of the centre, texting her friends from back home about what harry had said before the game. she watched as her teammates all celebrated with their families, all going out for dinners together. she frowned at the sight. not only was her mother on the other side of the world, but she wasn't very supportive of her moving all the way to america to pursue a dream she said "was never going to work out."

and don't even get molly started on her deadbeat dad that left her when she was five.

"oh my goodness, you must be molly!" glancing up from her phone, molly was bombarded by a hug by an older blonde lady, whose smile was contagious as molly's face broke out into a huge grin. "i'm ellen, luke's mom!"

glancing around ellen, molly caught sight of luke hughes, with his head in his hands. molly almost laughed at the boy's clear embarrassment of what his mother was doing.

"it's nice to meet you."

"you did so well tonight!" ellen complimented the girl. "i sat on the bench all night?" molly's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but ellen merely shook her head. "but you looked so pretty."

molly laughed shyly, red covering her cheeks at the compliment.

"why don't you join us for dinner?" ellen asked, gesturing behind her to luke and an older man which molly assumed was her husband.

"no, that's okay. i don't want to intrude." molly appreciated the invitation. but her and luke weren't necessarily friends, and she didn't want to impose on his quality time with his parents.

"luckily i'm not taking no for an answer." and with that, ellen was dragging molly to her car which they would ride in to the restaurant, meeting luke and jim there.

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