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lovebugism · 10 months

Note

hi bug! can I please request the dialogue prompt “Hold up, she said what?” with steve and shy!reader? maybe she is robin’s friend and robin tells steve something reader said (maybe that she thinks steve is cute or nice or something of the sort), and it leads to a cute conversation between the two?

ty for requesting angel!! — steve finds out the cute girl at the record store likes him and decides to bring her ice cream as a proclamation of love (shy!fem!reader, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, 2.3k)

blurbcember ⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve interjects suddenly, a metal scoop in his hand and a wild look in his eye. “She said what?”

Robin fumbles with the metal tub of Peppermint-Chip ice cream she’s refilling. It clangs when she drops it into place with haphazard care. The shop goes unusually silent without her rambling to fill the dead air. Holly, Jolly Christmas crackles quietly from the broken speakers overhead.

The girl blinks at him with a wide ocean gaze. Her rogue-tinted mouth falls softly agape. She knows she’s said the wrong thing, but she can’t remember what.

“...Huh?”

“What’d you just say?”

Her doe eyes flit to the left for a moment. It takes her a second or more to recall the words she’d only just said. She does this thing sometimes where she rambles on and on about nothing, and Steve was the first person in the whole world to let her. So it’s way too easy for her to tell him a billion things at once and forget about all of them a second later.

“That the music store just got new cassettes in?” Robin answers, her gritty voice a few octaves higher than usual.

Steve nods slow and with a crooked grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. He rests his elbow on the glass case above the ice cream and eggs her on. “After that?”

“…That you and the pretty new girl that works there have the same taste in music?”

“Before that.”

“That she said she wanted to show you the new tapes,” she says, wincing with the realization that she had, in fact, said the wrong thing. A secret she swore not to tell has just spilled from her lips without her even knowing it.

“And?” Steve lilts with a wider, rosier smile.

“Because she likes you…” Robin confesses (or rather, re-confesses) with her teeth gritted.

Even though Steve had heard her perfectly the first time, hearing it the second makes his heart skip a beat. The pulsing organ lurches into his throat. He almost forgets how to breathe.

“She likes me?” he repeats, mostly whispering, with an incredulous gape of shock. His bushy brows raise until his forehead wrinkles. His eyes go wide until the honey of them starts to glimmer.

Despite her best friend’s lovesick disposition, Robin’s freckled face hardens. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she rumbles like a storm cloud, knocking her shoulder against his when she walks by him.

“Why?” Steve retorts like a child, following behind her just the same.

He nearly bumps into her when she stops short at the deep freezer. She returns the cloth mits she carried the ice cream in with after spending her whole break organizing the case by color. Steve could never even be bothered to put the damn things back where they belonged in the first place.

“Because I swore to her I wouldn’t,” Robin agonizes, then whips around to face him again. Her features are twisted like a hurt puppy as she pleads. “Don’t tell her I said anything either, okay? She’ll hate me.”

Steve wasn’t planning on it. Not because he thought it might make you hate her, though. He’s not entirely sure you’re capable of that.

He’s only known you for a few months — ever since the leaves started changing color and people traded their ice cream cones for cool music at the new record store. He spent half that time admiring you across the landing, but you’ve never been anything but gentle with him. You were soft, with a soul of sunshine.

He didn’t know it was possible to be made of sunlight until he met you.

“Well, did you tell her I liked her back?” he presses, hoping Robin might’ve done some of the hard work for him.

Her face screws up like she’s tasted something sour. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I promised you I wouldn’t.”

Steve shoots her a deadpanned look.

Robin caves.

“It’s not like I meant to tell you she liked you just now, okay? It just came out!” she explains, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Maybe next time I stick my foot in my mouth around the new girl, I’ll tell her that you’re obsessed with her, and the two of you can finally start dating instead of making sex eyes at each other all the time.”

He wouldn’t put that past her. Robin the Mastermind, Robin the Blabbermouth, Robin the Matchmaker. But his fluttering heart is pumping with too much adrenaline now. He feels like he could move mountains with the knowledge of your affections — knowing that all his own big, fuzzy, suffocating feelings have been reciprocated all this time.

If he doesn’t talk to you now, he’s scared he’ll never work up this kind of courage again.

“No. Screw that,” he concludes with a shake of his head. He’s in King Steve mode now — feeling half as suave as he used to back when the whole town was falling at his feet — chest puffed and ego reeling. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Robin watches, dumbfounded, as he dumps a scoop of their best-selling ice cream into a paper bowl. Another tub she’ll have to refill. Steve ducks under the counter door and heads for the exit. “Wait— what am I supposed to do?” the girl shouts across the empty store.

Now out in the bustling Starcourt mall and taking short strides towards the music store, Steve spins on his heel to face her. He shrugs and readjusts the sailor’s cap on his head. “Wait for me to get back.”

—————

You’ve been banished to the back of the store.

Not exactly. But that’s what it feels like.

You got a bit too overwhelmed working the front counter, and since Eddie’s crazy soft on you, he let you put up all the Christmas decorations he’d been putting off instead. It’s a win-win situation, really.

You’re stringing up sparkling tinsel over the rows of records when a deep blue sailor’s uniform catches your eye. Looking over your shoulder, you find Steve in all his glorysauntering towards you. He’s wearing shorts even though it’s basically winter now in Indiana. He’s beaming at you like sunshine anyway.

Beneath the amber glow of the dimly lit store, he looks borderline angelic. Almost unfairly ethereal.

“What’s that?” you wonder with a smile you don’t even know is there, nodding to the Scoops Ahoy brandedcup in his hand.

You can almost smell the syrup-cinnamon concoction of the ice cream he holds in his palm. Or maybe that’s just Steve, and the sugary sweetness is radiating from his pores after working in a confectionary shop during the holidays.

He looks at you even sweeter.

“New flavor,” he answers vaguely, smirking as he leans against the metal shelves. He stumbles slightly when it rocks beneath his weight. “Oops. Sorry. It’s, uh— It’s pancake chunks with maple syrup swirl. I call it Wake and Bake.”

A giggle tumbles from your lips when he hands it to you. “Eddie’s gonna love that,” you murmur.

“Well, it’s actually called Breakfast in Bed, but— I don’t know— I thought my idea was better.”

“Way better,” you concur with a nod and a pretty smile.

Steve watches with attentive honey eyes as you spoon a bite into your mouth. He feels a bit like it’ll be his fault if you hate it. His irrational need to impress you always makes him feel hopelessly inadequate.

“Woah,” you hum without your mouth still a little full. The cream melts softly on your tongue, tasting of a sweet and early morning. “This is really good.”

His brows raise, and his eyes widen. “Yeah?” he wonders. Your words wash over him like a compliment for a reason he can’t name. It feels good to make you feel good.

“Mhmm. I might have to come by after work and buy the rest of it, actually,” you joke with a curt shrug. It’s a feeble confession — your way of telling him that you want to see him more because you could never say the real thing out loud.

Your heart sinks when Steve shakes his head. Then swells when he smiles.

“No way,” he scoffs, lips curling into a lopsided grin. “I’m not gonna let you pay for it— that’s crazy.”

“You can’t keep giving me free ice cream, Steve—”

“What my manager doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he lilts lowly and with a cool shrug that makes you melt. He goes very distinctly soft when he looks at you, all scruffy-faced and sweet-eyed.

It’s suffocatingly beautiful. You crack under the pressure of it.

“Well, uh— Thanks for the— ice cream,” you stammer and motion the bowl back to him. Thanks for stopping by and keeping me company, but you’re too pretty and I’m not sure how much longer I can take it, you don’t say.

“You don’t want the rest?” he asks with pinched brows.

“I just… should probably get back to work, you know?”

“Eddie doesn’t let you take breaks?”

“No, he does,” you answer quickly, shifting your weight on your feet. It becomes virtually impossible to meet his gaze. “Just not with…”

Steve’s brows raise when you trail off. “Not with me?” he finishes with a laugh.

“Well, not with the… pretty-boy-ice-cream-slinger in the sailor’s uniform,” you correct, then quickly follow. “His words. Not mine.”

In all honesty, Steve couldn’t care less about what Eddie Munson has to say about him. If Hawkins’s local freak is the only thing standing between him and the pretty girl at the music store, he’s down to break a couple of dumb rules.

He takes a small step towards you. His pink smirk widens. You swear your heart stops when he looks at you with it. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” he teases with a twinkle in his squinted eye.

Suddenly, there’s a frog in your throat and you’re fourteen all over again. You’re flustered and drowning and totally unsure of yourself. “I didn’t say that,” you mutter, gaze flittering and smile wavering.

Steve goes to rest his elbow on the shelf again, then remembers its unsteadiness and decides against it. His arm rests awkwardly in the air for half a moment before he crosses both of them over his chest.

“Well, I mean, you didn’t not say it, so…”

You squint up at him, busying your clammy hands with the melting ice cream in your palm. You know what he’s fishing for. Your pride urges you to stay silent even though your heart sings the sweetest songs for him.

“You know you’re pretty, Steve,” you murmur matter of factly.

“But do you think I’m pretty?”

Your thundering heart lurches into your throat when Steve takes another small step closer. He smells like wintertime — like Christmas and nostalgia and boy. You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, so you nod, slow and sheepish.

“Good,” he hums with a beam he couldn’t hide if he tried. “‘Cause I think you’re pretty, too.”

Your chest gets all sparkly at his admission — the affirmation that all your girlish feelings are being reciprocated by a boy you never dreamed you could have. You don’t feel hardly deserving of the fondness dripping from his features, but you pray he never stops looking at you with it.

You grow warm with the irrational hope that he might kiss you. You think he might actually kiss you until your boss’s voice pierces the golden bubble of puppy love the both of you are basking in.

“How’s the decorating going?” Eddie announces himself, appearing suddenly between the two aisles.

Robin idles at his side. She’s in the feminine version of Steve’s sailor outfit — with silver chains around her neck and bandaids on her knees. Effortlessly endearing and totally unaware of it all.

You push Steve away from you without thinking, all but shoving the softening ice cream into his chest. Some of it smears white against the scarlet tie around his chest. “Sorry!” you exclaim in your moment of fleeting panic, then turn to Eddie with the same apologetic wince. “Sorry…” you repeat quieter.

“Robin?” Steve gapes at the sight of his best friend — apparently the second thing standing in his way, right beside the freak. “What the hell are you doing here— did you tattle on me? What are you, four?”

“I got lonely,” the brunette answers plainly. “And I knew you were around here somewhere, so I asked Eddie where you were—” She waves a pale hand your way, fingers painted with chipping maroon polish. “—And now I’m here.”

Eddie grins wide and tilts his wild head to his shoulder. “Yeah. Can’t believe you’re trying to taint my one good employee, Steven.”

“I’m not tainting anybody, Munson,” he bites back like a bickering brother, then screws up his face and turns to Robin. “Wait. If you’re here, who’s manning the counter?”

Her freckled face falls like a child caught in a fib. Her deep blue eyes widen when she blinks at him. In a mousier voice, she confesses, “Dustin came by… And I told him he could eat all the ice cream he wanted as long as he made sure no one stole anything.”

The four of you fall silent. The soft rock of Christmas Wrapping plays weakly from the radio at the front of the store. Eddie breaks first. ‘Cause he can’t ever be serious about anything.

The boyish sound of his laughter sends a giggle sputtering from your lips. The pretty noise makes Steve smile despite his baffled disbelief.

He turns to you with a dumbfounded grin. “You’re still stopping by after work, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer softly, nodding as your smiling face grows hot.

Eddie scoffs when Steve walks by him. “If you still have a job by then.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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bunnyhugs77 · 8 months

Text

Honey I'm Home

୨୧- Just a little slice of life of a hard working dad, his tired wife and their twin girls.

୨୧ WC: 900

Jungkook pushes open the door to your small two-bedroom flat, his keys jingling in the door which attracted the two little girls on the other side to come running instantly.

The soft patter of their socked feet hitting the wooden floors as they rushed to his as fast as they could. "Daddy!" The girls squealed. Jungkook crouched down, his once drained expression replaced with one full of delight.

"Girls!" He exclaims, taking the both of them in each of his arms, listening to their adorable laughter as he engulfed them into his tight embrace. "Daddy! Can't breathe!" Aria squeaks from where her head rested against his chest. Always the dramatic one of the two.

Jungkook laughs, apologizing and letting them go. Aria runs back to the kitchen where he could only assume the source of that flavourful scent was coming from. Meanwhile Hye-Ji stayed back to show him the flowers she'd picked just for him.

"Are these for me?" Bending at the waist to collect the crushed dandelions that were once in the grip of her fist. She nods with the brightest smile he's ever seen.

Picking her up as well, letting her rest on his side with one hand, careful not to ruffle the very elaborate princess dress she was wearing as he finally begins to make his way to the kitchen. "Thank you so much princess, I'll make sure to add this to my collection." He places a kiss to the crown of her head.

There you were. His eyes seemed to soften once they landed on you. In a button up and your favourite pair of mom jeans." Hi baby," He gets the chance to peck your lips briefly before Hye-Ji was asking to be put down.

She quickly ran off to her sister in the living room where there were colouring pages ripped out, building blocks all over the place, a box of crayons in the laundry bin full of clothes that were waiting to be folded.

"Hi." You manage a smile before resuming your blank stare into the pot of tomato sauce for the spaghetti that you'd been stirring for god knows how long. "Is everything okay?" Disregarding your mundane 'yeah' he know something is up.

"Honey, what's wrong? Talk to me." You sigh, dropping your shoulders, finally looking at him. He was in his typical work-wear for his day job as a private banker meanwhile he works part-time nights as a mail courier.

"Today was a bad day." Letting your head fall into your husband's firm chest in defeat. His hands raised to hold you in his arms the same way the have been for the last 5 years.

The shiny silver band of his wedding ring catching the light for a moment as he gently rubbed your back. "You wanna talk about it?"

You pout softly, "There's nothing to say, look at the state of the house. Hye-Ji turned the house upside down looking for her dress this morning. Then I took them to the grocery store and Aria got lost." Jungkook's eyebrows raise, but you weren't done.

"I finally got them to sleep for an hour while I did some laundry, and then I ended up falling asleep myself, waking up to crayons and toys everywhere, and Hye-Ji was crying because she missed you and then I started crying because I missed you too and-"

You couldn't believe this was making you tear up. The day was hectic and the fact you'd have to do it all over again tomorrow. Jungkook hushes you in a comforting manner, practically swaddling you in his arms. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here," you sniffle, stepping back.

"It's not your fault. You work two jobs. it's just hard sometimes." You admit and Jungkook gets an idea. "Go." He says and your brow arches, "I'll finish dinner, and take care of the girls. Go rest, or read that Jasper Wilde book you've been wanting to read. Please. Let me help, you deserve it." He pecks your forehead and you weren't going to fight him on it.

Leaving the kitchen and the responsibilities to him. Telling yourself that it would only be a thirty minute nap but it turned into 2 hours. By the time you walked back into the kitchen, it looked like you'd walked into a whole new house.

Everything was neat and tidy, the girls were sitting on the ground with a bowl of abandoned grapes shared between them as they watched Moana with an entranced gaze.

The laundry basket was gone, the floors were clean and the air smelled of soft fresh linens and cinnamon. Looking back to the kitchen where Jungkook quietly tidied up, humming softly to himself. You stood hidden from where you were admiring your little family.

You may not have had much but you had everything you needed right here. "You're amazing you know that?" Jungkook says as you approached him. "I should be saying that to you." You counter.

"No. I mean it, Y/n. Having two jobs is easy, but doing what you do everyday is a job for a saint. I appreciate everything you do for us, I love you so much." His lips pressing against your forehead while your heart felt so full of love. "I love you." You say.

"I have to potty!" Aria declares and the both of you look at each other.

"Not it."

#jungkook smut #jungkook #bts #jungkook ff #bts one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic recs #fluff #drabble

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kedsandtubesocks · 8 months

Text

your heart, a sonnet

Author!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: you discover there’s more to your boyfriend than you realize

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, surprise hidden identity reveal, grumpy but soft!Joel who has a secret love language of writing and love letters, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s), light discussion of reader and Joel’s insecurities, reader is addressed as darlin/honey/baby, a few spicy moments where Joel gets handsy

word count: 5.3k

a/n: I know, I know… this doesn’t seem like the typical Joel fic but i blame Pedro’s look at the Hollywood star walk of fame ceremony because it immediately made me think ‘oh that’s Joel’ and now here we are lol I couldn’t have done this without my forever babe @the-wild-wolves-around-you and i can’t thank her enough along with @ahauntedcowboy for always letting me scream about all my wild ideas, and now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You first met Joel at a bookstore.

The weekend after your birthday you went in to treat yourself and wandered into the records section of the store. As you flipped through the selections, the sudden sight of a Fleetwood Mac album had you inhaling sharply in surprise.

“S’good one.” That’s when the sudden smooth drawl of a southern accent floated out to you.

A few steps beside you stood an absolutely gorgeous man. The evergreen plaid button up shirt he wore flattered him as if it was made to be only worn by him. Rugged and distinguished, he seemed like a romance hero plucked straight out from one of the books among the shelves. You even blinked a few times wondering if he was real.

“If you don’t take it, might have to fight ya for it.” Even with his gruff low voice, an underlying teasing nature radiated friendly and light.

Now, many months later, a piece of you believes you might have fallen for him right then and there.

Joel is a rare beautiful soul of a man. He’s strong and a bit rough around the edges. He used to work as a contractor, even managed to build a very reputable business with his brother. His hard work remains effortlessly etched into his hands that now type editing books, his current job. He’s kind, so deeply loyal and loves fiercely.

With a yawn, you slip out of bed to pull on his cozy Texas longhorn shirt.

Heading downstairs, you walk among the clouds.

Instead of working at his office desk, Joel sits at the dining table typing away. Just seeing him wear his reading glasses sends a delicious desire trickling through you like a soft rain.

His dark earth eyes flicker up over the edge of his laptop and his gaze softens.

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna wake up.” His wonderfully smooth as molasses voice makes you want to get caught up in its sticky sweetness.

“It’s not even that late. You’re one who woke up wanting to get work done on a Saturday.” You scoff playfully yet press your lips to his, a soft good morning greeting.

“Besides…who’s the reason I slept in so soundly, hm?” You smile against Joel’s lips that now twitch with a smirk.

His large warm hand slowly creeps up against your bare leg and rubs soft against your skin. After a few sleepy kisses, Joel’s tongue smoothly slips into your mouth trying to now consume you with a syrupy heat.

Joel pulls you down onto his lap. Your hands run up his chest to his cherub curly gray hair. His lips leave yours to start nipping at your jaw.

“What happened to working, cowboy?” You sigh softly.

“Come keep me company, darlin’.” He breathes out and any hope of maybe making breakfast is happily forgotten.

The rest of the morning unfolds at a nebulous pace you bask in.

When a late brunch is finished and you start cleaning up the kitchen, Joel’s warm solid hands map out your hips with other plans in mind. He slides behind you, a towering comfort that you lean back against.

“You’re extra handsy today Mr. Miller.” You tease.

“I can stop?” Joel offers while his scruffy beard scrapes a path against your skin. Against you, his broad shoulders, his wonderfully built frame, wraps you in his protective cover.

You hum a content no and move your hands over his now.

“Just wanna enjoy being with ya before I get busy.” Joel mutters while his hand slides down your cozy lounge shorts.

You had forgotten about his upcoming work plans.

You already want to mourn the impending weekend without him, but that can wait for another day. Especially when his thick fingers delicately, so sinfully, run up and down your underwear playfully touching you.

But then that weekend arrives and it brings a hollowness.

Lounging on the couch back at the apartment you share with your best friend, you force yourself not to text Joel again. He’s busy and you know this. So you vow to hold all your yearning and longing chained inside like a Jane Austen heroine.

“Are you done sulking?” Your best friend teases from the kitchen and you glare at her from the couch.

“I get it, being awake from your hunky handsome older boyfriend is hard. What will you ever do?” She snickers playfully. You’re tempted to throw the nearby couch pillows at her.

“What did you say his job was?” She asks.

“He used to be a contractor, but now he’s a book editor.” You answer.

“A hardworking hot Texas cowboy who reads and is a good man? Yeah, keep him locked up.” Your best snorts and you understand exactly what she means.

Fanged temptation claws at you more to text him again. Joel promised he would call you tonight and you don’t doubt him. But you didn’t realize how badly you’d missed him.

“Alright,” your best friend declares. “No more moping! I’m dragging you out with me to that book signing I’ve been talking about.”

She’s been obsessed with this apocalyptic novel series for so long. You happily tag along and even perk up when you see how excited she gets.

“And the author is finally doing a book tour! He’s kept his identity hidden this entire time so I wanna get a chance to maybe just even see him!” Your best friend gushes the entire time she drives you both to the bookstore the signing would be held.

Just so happens it’s the same bookstore where you first met Joel. A deep surge of affection swallows you whole and you float on blissful lovesick nostalgia.

Then the impressive line already waiting outside the front doors stuns you.

“I told you! It’s a big deal! Plus the series is so good.” Your best friend exclaims. She has been trying to get you into the series for a while.

The core of it focuses on two young girls who manage to survive an apocalyptic fungal zombie outbreak. The series follows the girls growing up, the journey to live with each other, and how it slowly bonds them as sisters.

“I heard they’re trying to make a Netflix series on it.” Your friend adds hopeful.

You can’t help but snag your best friend’s book copy she also hopes will get signed. Flipping through the front pages you land to the dedication page.

“To my baby girls, this will always be for you two.”

The author must have based the series on their daughters. That’s adorable.

Now curious, you flip to the first chapter.

“After seeing the end of the world, after witnessing the carnage of life consume itself, Ellie thinks she’s seen it all.”

Your best friend's sudden excited laugh pulls you out of the book. She’s talking with the other fans in line and you decide to join in.

Everyone discusses how worth the wait will be and how most of them even purchased the newest released book to make sure they reserved a slot for the signing.

“So why’s the author finally doing a face reveal?” You ask quietly not wanting to seem too out of place.

“So apparently,” your best friend begins in her hush about to spill the good gossip voice. “Some random ass moron on Twitter came out and said they were the true author. It became a whole messy issue of who it really was.”

Your best friend goes into more detail about how even a couple of online sites had articles on it.

“That’s awful.” You sympathize with the author. It must’ve been a headache trying to enjoy the peace of anonymity only for it becoming something used against them. You can only imagine how heartbreaking it was to see others steal and take credit for your work.

Like a surprise strike of lightning, an electric excitement suddenly breaks through the air.

Glancing up, you watch the line rapidly move towards the front doors. Time to go in.

Unfortunately, the main seating for the reading and q&a fills up fast. The bookstore though manages to wrangle the remainder of the crowd that can fit on the first floor towards a section where they can watch. It’s more than enough for your best friend who’s about to burst with anticipation. The buoyant commotion in the room even pulls you into its current and you get excited to see the new surprise author.

Soon a chic handsome older looking man, the moderator of the event, scurries to the front of the gathered group.

Warmly he begins the introduction to the writer.

First, writing sweet children’s books, stories for his daughters, those works became the author’s first publications. After that he navigated apocalyptic writing and his hit series has earned critical acclaim.

“Simply known as the anonymous writer J Miller. I’ve had the greatest pleasure to know this man as both his friend and now agent and I’m beyond proud to introduce him to you. Everyone please help me in welcoming J Miller!”

The thunderous applause and screams of excitement galvanize the entire room.

Then Joel walks out from the side.

Your heart instantly leaves your body.

For a moment you think your lovesick yearning heart has you slightly projecting Joel in any man you might see.

But the minute you focus, truly watch him slide into the chair, you see him.

Soft gray grown out curls, a strong beautiful nose, the patchy beard with the spots you love to kiss, and his reading glasses - the ones he’s so self conscious about because of how they make him look “so good damn old,” yet you love how they distinguish and elevate his appearance. You even remember the first time Joel wore them while he read waiting for you.

Truth makes its way into your heart.

It’s Joel.

The famous mystery author is your Joel.

“Thanks Frank.” And when he takes the mic, thanking his agent, his slick southern sunset voice melts the crowd.

“So, uh he’s gorgeous?!” Someone behind you squeals.

“Who would’ve thought he’d be this hot?!” Someone adds.

The whispers and mummers swarm like wasps buzzing all around you and you want to swat at them.

You can’t wrap your mind around this or the amount of emotions rushing through you. You feel separated from your body, floating detached from the scene and trying to gather yourself back.

Why didn’t he tell you?

Did he not trust you?

Joel suddenly laughs at something Frank says, that gruff wonderful laugh you hear after you show him a ridiculous video or his daughters tease him. It snaps you back into awareness.

“He’s about to read a section!” Your friend giddily whispers under her breath

Now you fully focus on this man, this almost stranger.

He’s so handsome it isn’t fair. He looks like a distinguished professor and your throat tightens seeing how broad his shoulders look in the dark casual suit jacket he wears.

“One of my favorite parts.” He admits quietly. “It’s when Ellie and Sarah realize they can make it outta Pittsburgh together.”

His daughters. He named his characters after them.

Joel clears his throat and begins.

He reads the passage with a magnetic cadence. The words slip from him like the smooth drink of whiskey that lingers on your tongue. When he finishes, an ache twists in your chest.

The applause he gets is shatteringly loud. The smallest bit of pride does float through you. But confusion drowns it out.

The floor now opens to quick questions. Some are about the book itself and the certain decisions made writing wise. Others are obviously about why he stayed hidden for so long.

That one perks you up quickly.

In such typical Joel fashion, he shrugs.

“Just couldn’t figure out Twitter, s’all.”

Everyone laughs at his playful reply and you do as well, but it sounds hollow and watery.

Soon enough the last question arrives.

“Do you ever see yourself writing for any other genres? I mean, we’ve seen horror and some moments of romance in the series. So I’m just curious if you’d write anything else?!” The lady asks brightly and now you simply settle your thoughts aside to listen.

Joel chuckes, a bit breathless and his gaze drops. This entire time he’s teetered between a sly southern charm that’s hypnotized you, to being guarded almost a bit nervous.

But now a boyishly hesitant grin falls over him and it’s so familiar.

”Uh, guess romance would be the next I’d maybe try.” He answers low, bashful.

The crowd erupts into fangirl like shrieks.

“Right?! I keep saying he doesn’t know the potential he has if he became a romance writer!” Frank, who has such a bright and lovely personality, adds.

Too many emotions clash in you.

You wonder if he wants to explore romance writing because of you?

Or a much harsher voice creeps out from the back of your mind whispering maybe you’re just being used for source material.

You quickly stomp those thoughts away.

The rest of the event shifts to the signing and you walk in a sort of guided daze.

“You okay?” Your best friend asks gently, noticing your slight mood change.

You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth yet. This was something she had been looking forward to and you didn’t want to ruin her excitement or experience. So you wearily just smile and tell her your head simply started hurting.

She sympathetically nods.

“Thankfully we won’t be waiting too long.” She adds and explains how the signing would be called by groups.

“We might not have gotten seats, but we did manage to sneak into group A for the signing.” She grins proud and it lifts your spirits.

The line curls against the sides of the bookshelves blocking your view of Joel. It becomes both a blessing and a curse.

Maybe you should wait in the car for his and your sake?

However, something inside you slightly bitter, raw and wanting answers, decides to stay. Besides you, your dear friend tries to keep herself calm but you can sense her bubbling nervous energy.

“I’d be calmer if he wasn’t so damn attractive.” She hisses and a jealous flare gently rises in you.

“Just think,” you reassure her. “He’s probably just as nervous as you.”

The relieved comforted grin she gives you makes staying worth it. But then all of that flies out the window the closer and closer you get to Joel.

Petrified dread claws its way in when you realize your best friend is next in line.

“He looks kinda familiar now that we’re closer.” The casual comment your friend says makes your heart sink.

“Maybe.” You mutter.

The times Joel has been to your place your roommate, your best friend, has been either at work or sleeping. You can only think of the first instant you introduce Joel to her when he picked you up on a date.

Your eyes flicker straight to Joel.

His hair seems so perfectly curled and his dark jacket highlights his wonderful grays.

Thankfully, any discussion of who he might look like gets squashed because your best friend gets called next in line. She turns to you squeaking excitedly and you beam back bright.

Joel lifts his eyes up, like a true southern gentleman wanting to give someone his full attention.

You wait on the side and watch the interaction unfold. Joel chuckles at something your best friend says and you’re glad she’s enjoying herself.

The book signing is done so fast. In a blink, it’s finished. With her newly signed book, your friend turns to you. She makes a slightly embarrassing but endearing noise of excitement that has you laughing.

That’s when your eyes flicker over to Joel and your gaze locks with his.

Instantly, Joel’s handsome face drops. His gorgeous earth eyes widen as he immediately recognizes you. His mouth falls open slightly and a flash of something close to fear fills the depths of his eyes.

He breathes out your name on a shaky exhale.

Everything seems to slow and stop. You don’t know what to say. So all you do is weakly smile.

The fleeting moment fades. The next group in line already giggles moving towards the table.

Time’s up. Turning on your heels to leave with your friend, Joel calls out to you, calls your name.

“Wait!”

You freeze.

Glancing back at him, Joel’s eyes pin you on the spot. An unspoken heaviness hangs in his deep eyes while he stares intently at you.

“It’s okay, we’ll talk later.” By some strange possession of slight bravery, or maybe delusion, you manage to speak.

But it’s all you can say and it’s all you can do before Frank, Joel’s agent, slides in to whisper something to him.

The moment again shatters.

Your best friend however grills you the rest of the day

That’s when you pull out your phone. You show her a photo you secretly took of Joel. It’s one where he’s adorably glaring at his ipad while he tried ordering take out for dinner.

Your best friend shrieks. “He’s your boyfriend?!”

He is.

Your boyfriend, Joel, is a writer, a very famous best selling author.

And that weight yanks you under a dangerous current you can’t seem to swim against.

Even after lunch, even getting back to your apartment and trying to settle your thoughts, your emotions are still so tangled.

You mindlessly scroll through your phone for the rest of the day and a blink, you notice it’s already early evening. Your plan to stay sulking is ruined when your phone starts ringing so loud.

It’s Joel.

“Hello?” You answer as composed as you can.

“Darlin?” His beautiful rich voice sounds hesitant and guarded.

“Hi.” You reply back quietly.

“Can we talk?” He asks just as low.

You agree, expecting to have the discussion on the phone. Except a knock taps on your apartment door and scares you right out of your body.

Ever proactive, ever the man who takes action, Joel stands waiting for you when you open the door.

You’re thankful more than ever that your best friend went to the gym for the evening.

“Wanna sit outside for a bit? Maybe get some air? S��really nice outside today.” He offers gentle.

He’s breaking up with you. That’s what your mind jumps to.

At least the weather is surprisingly kind this early evening.

You’ve sat out here on your apartment’s decent sized balcony with Joel before. But now the energy between you and him shifts strangely.

The sky stretches above a soft sherbet orange. A breeze comes, thankfully not too cold, but you think about maybe heading in to grab a blanket.

Joel however quickly slings off his jacket and drapes it over you. Always the gentleman.

The smell of his cologne, so comforting and masculine, wraps around you like a cloud.

You thank him with a soft small smile and Joel nods. Then he sighs and leans forward on the folding chair.

“Always loved the outdoors.” He begins, a small olive branch of a conversation to break the tension. “The girls and I love hiking the trails out by the lake. You ever been?”

You shake your head no.

“Maybe one day we can all go together.” The comment holds hope, a delicate thread of it. Yet you catch the hesitation.

Your eyes flicker to him, confused and cautious.

“Wait, you aren’t breaking up with me?” You blurt out, maybe just wanting to get it over with. You hate the way your voice cracks slightly.

Joel, with his beautiful concerned wide eyes, snaps his face to you.

“What? Honey no. Thought maybe you’d be the one maybe tryin’ to break up with me.” Joel, who Sarah jokes about how some of their neighbors question if he’s perpetually grumpy, stares at you with a tenderness that melts you to your core.

You can’t help but laugh watery.

“Why d’ya think I’d want to end things with you?” He asks patiently.

You can think of so many.

He’s a famous writer who’s about to maybe become an online sensation. He’s older than you, wiser and seasoned. He’s a full on father with young teenage daughters.

So you reveal your heart to him and all the fears that dwell in its shadows. You wipe away a few tears that manage to spill out.

Joel moves to hold your hands in his, a guarded warmth and protection keeping you stable.

With a heavy sigh, Joel’s attention fully focused on you.

“Honey…I’m so sorry for not telling you about my work, about me, sooner.” He earnestly apologizes and his words drip with comforing earnesty.

Now his gaze drops down to where your hand sits in his.

“Didn’t want it complicatin’ things with us. I knew I had to tell you eventually. But really…I was worried you’d see me differently once you knew. I know I don’t seem like the writin’ type anyway.” He mutters and you miss the hint of embarrassment coloring his tone.

You squeeze his hands.

This could never make you look at Joel in a negative light. If anything, you now feel proud knowing he’s a writer. You do explain your worries though and the ache you felt knowing he kept his from you.

“I know darlin’ and I promise,” he squeezes your hands now. “No more secrets between us.”

“You…us…means more to me than you’ll know.” He adds and you draw his hands up to your mouth.

You kiss his worn hands, his hard working beautiful hands that now move to hold your face so tenderly in their grasp. His thumb strokes your bottom lip delicately as if you’ll disappear from his sight.

“Can I kiss ya baby?”

You nod and in that same breath Joel pulls you towards him. He kisses you light, delicate enough that you feel so precious and treasured within his hold.

It seems like such a simple small kiss but it soaks into your bones.

You have so many questions. And as much as you’d like to make out with your boyfriend on the balcony, you’d like answers.

So you pull away and stand up.

Joel looks adorable as confusion paints his face.

“Don’t worry I’m just getting us a blanket.” You grin at him as you sling on his jacket claiming it as your own.

Blanket in hand you now curl up with him in the lawn chair, thankful for its sturdiness and cozy size. Your heart soars at how quickly Joel pulls you into his arms and basically onto his lap.

It feels like it’s been months since you’ve last been with him, or maybe that’s just how exhausting today was.

Joel sighs content and pleased once you fully rest against him. Hesitantly you ask if it’s okay if you can talk about him, about his work.

“Ask away honey. I’ll tell ya everything n’ anything.” He says firm.

You grin and your thumb starts stroking the back of his hand.

“So what made you decide to reveal yourself now? I heard there was an issue about someone saying they were you?” You ask, thinking of the discussions earlier with your best friend.

“Yeah..” Joel now sighs tired with an ancient weariness that settles over his handsome face.

“Sarah was the one who saw it first on Twitter or wherever it was.” He adds with a grumble.

Your heart aches knowing one of the girls saw it first.

“Didn’t help either that I ain’t online. So it became a whole fuckin’ mess we had to deal with it a couple months back.”

A light bulb goes off inside your brain.

“Was that when you said you had to visit a family friend out of town?” You connect the dots.

“Yup.” Joel nods. “Went to visit Frank, my agent, to try and figure this shit out. Could’ve let it all maybe die down but… ya know.” He huffs and you understand completely.

Joel is too stubborn, a bit too prideful. You almost snort amused just over the thought of him trying to let the situation blow over.

“Frank wants to meet ya by the way.” Now his voice dips with a bashful tone while his hands begin softly stroking your thighs.

“I’d love to meet him too.” You truthfully tell Joel.

“So, are you going to be online now? Should I start making secret accounts to follow you?” You now tease and Joel barks a beautiful amused laugh.

“Baby, I’m over 50. The only apps I need on my phone are candy crush and ESPN. Ain’t got the time or patience for social medias.”

Now you’re the one laughing.

It feels freeing, blissful, like this is the first moment you’re spending time with him all over again. Yet, there’s a deeper sacred connection that settles.

You can’t help but kiss him again and Joel eagerly welcomes you on his lips.

Now his lips move fervently, almost possessively, against yours, licking and trying to consume you. A small moan squeaks out of you.

“Come on baby,” he mutters, shifting you against his lap so that you fully feel his hardness straining against his pants. “Wanna taste ya.”

You’re thankful you manage to drag him back inside because you can’t imagine getting intimate with Joel on the balcony. Well, at least not yet. But that was a thought for another day.

Now in the afterglow’s soft relaxing peace you wish for more time with him.

But Joel must sense that ache too.

“S’late honey. Come back home with me. Even if it’s just for the night.” He mutters against your lips and you can’t deny him. You don’t want to deny him or the aching tug pulling you to him.

That night you fully embrace every inch of the man Joel Miller is and let a dizzying adoration for him swallow you whole.

The next morning, in the soft early still dark shade of his room, Joel wakes you with a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Gotta go meet with Frank for the day. I’ll see ya later, honey.” He mutters against your cozy heated skin.

You hum a soft agreement and sleepily wish him a goodbye before falling back to sleep. After that, you wake up later to a colder and empty bed.

Tugging on another one of Joel’s shirts you head downstairs already missing his presence.

And when you get downstairs, there on the table sits the most gorgeous floral arrangement. Its beautiful vibrant blooms make your heart flutter so fast against its cage.

A folded paper sits beside the flowers. Your name is written on the front in Joel’s slightly chicken scratch like handwriting.

You scramble fast to grab it.

A letter, he’s written you a letter.

“Honey,

I know I’ve already apologized and you’ve forgiven my old undeserving ass.”

You snort at that line but continue on.

“But I just wanted to fully apologize to you again. Might take me a while until I stop, but just be patient with my old bones yeah?”

You would. Your heart would and will always wait for him.

“Doesn’t seem like it but, I aint that good at talking about things, about my feelings. Shocker right?”

You smirk. You know he isn’t good with words - that’s why it almost feels ironic and a bit unreal that he’s an author.

You’ve discovered Joel shows his affection through his actions.

He spent an entire day rearranging a business scheduling conflict just so that Tommy didn’t have to worry about it. Joel never missed a single one of Ellie’s basketball games. Sarah only prefers a certain type of orange juice and Joel never fails to only get that one.

The first few weeks you started dating Joel you got sick with a nasty cold. He dropped off a whole bag of various items like tissues and cough drops. It was then you knew his heart shines through his actions.

He sometimes surprises you with an order from your favorite take out spot. He never lets you touch a door, always opening them for you instead. He’s the most generous lover and never fails to remind you of how tender, how consuming, his passion can be.

Joel does grumble, sometimes even seems grouchy, but he loves fiercely.

And now here he is showing you this side of him, this form of himself as a writer.

So you return to reading his letter.

“I got into writing because it helped me process all my emotions, my thoughts, the good and bad days - everything. And sharing my writing with others, especially with someone as important as you, still makes me feel so vulnerable. Funny how that worked out though huh? Guess fate wanted to drag my ass and make me face my fears and vulnerability and whatnot.”

Someone as important as you - The line makes your heart flutter.

“I know I told you the reasons why I didn’t tell you. But another reason was because I was afraid.

I was afraid of how much you mean to me. Telling you about this part of me would be taking a bigger step. And it scared me shitless. Cause darlin’ I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. Like, as Ellie loves to say, in such a long time that ‘dinosaurs weren’t even fossils.’

That makes you laugh a bit watery but you let his words carry you again.

“You make my damn heart race when you smile. I get so worked up just seeing you walk around my house as if you were always meant to be here. And I didn't want to lose that either. I still don’t.

You feel like a bright future, like waking up after a cloudy week and the sun greets you so nicely. And I just wanna stay in that warmth, your warmth.

Yeah sorry, that line might be too romance novel writer for my league…but like I said I’m thinking about it. And it’s because of you.

We said no more secrets yeah?

So I’m not lying when I say you’ve become so god damn important to me. And I wanna see more days with you, as many as you’ll have with me.

Fuck. This damn letter already feels too long and I hate my old ass for rambling and maybe not making sense. But I adore you honey. Plain in simple.

And I’m just gonna leave it at that.

Don’t miss me too much and I’ll see you soon.

P.S I picked that bookstore as the tour’s first stop here because it’s where I met you… and I’ll always be grateful for that

-Joel”

You now fight back an absolute ocean’s worth of adoration for this man.

Tears clog your throat and you try not letting them flood your vision, but it’s so hard. So hard when you’re this head over heels.

You don’t want to say it yet, and you don’t know if he’s even ready to say it, but the emotion filling you like a newborn star feels like love.

You barely manage to send out a text thanking him and hoping you’ll get to talk to him soon.

Joel, ever the endearing man he is, replies back with a simple heart emoji and you laugh.

You really might love this man.

And you hope, you so brightly hope, that he maybe loves you too.

You think of his book series, of how he became a writer simply wanting to tell his daughters stories. Those stories grew out of his love for them and now he gets to crystallize that among his pages.

You realize how writing truly is its own form of love.

After all, what better way for a writer to show their love, their heart, than to capture you in their words?

You think that’s where writers must live now, in the heart. Or maybe - your maybe gruff handsome one just does. And you happily welcome Joel’s place in yours and hope he resides there forever like a love poem etched into your very soul.

#hello hi if you read this know me and author Joel are writing you a love letter #Joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #author!joel miller #Joel miller fic #Joel 🤎

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poeticpascal · 1 year

Text

I've Got You (Dbf!Joel Miller x Reader)

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Summary: When a date set up by your father goes wrong, your secret boyfriend and Dad's best friend races to protect you.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, attempted sexual assault, abusive language, reader's date is a tory prick, soft!dom!Joel, blowjob, unprotected sex, use of pet names.

A/n: So... this is my first time writing smut. I am super proud of this one, so please let me know what you think! Requests are open so for more Joel/Pedro action, you know where to find me x

Dating your Dad’s best friend is hard. And stupid. Really, you have no clue why either of you thought this'd be a good idea. But you were so far down this path now, so entangled in late night meet-ups and whispered phone calls and unspoken thoughts that sounded a lot like ‘I love you’, that it was too late to turn around and steer the sinking ship of this utter mess back to shore.

More than anything, you hate not having any normalcy with him. You can’t fall straight into his arms after a hard day. You can’t cuddle into his side with a bowl of popcorn watching crappy weeknight telly. You can’t go to the store together, holding hands and making him laugh as you insist on buying a flavour of ice cream that you know he’d love. And it sucks.

Because everyone said Joel would never be one to settle down. He’s too wild, too rough to fit into a polished little box like that. And you’d thought the same. Until you fucked him, then fucked him again, and kept going back until you could see the pain in his eyes each time you left. You could practically feel the heaviness settle in his stomach as you left his bed to sneak back home. It hurts him as much as it does you, and if you weren’t so incredibly in love with him, that would’ve been enough to make you run.

Despite how long you’d kept this going now, a good 6 months at least, it never got any easier. Especially when your Dad started talking about dating. He was protective, but more than anything he wanted to see you happy. So when you suddenly became distant, hiding in your room more often and going out on dates much less, he was concerned. Nowhere near as concerned as he’d be if he found out why you were acting that way, you thought, but concerned all the same.

So when he came home one day, beaming and shouting for you to come downstairs, you thought nothing of it. When he explained there was a new apprentice at his work that he thinks you’d like, you weren’t surprised. And when he told you he’d set up a blind date with said boy, you felt sick.

Because you really couldn’t get out of it. You tried.

“Dad, I just don’t feel like dating right now.”

“Oh come on, you used to have a new date every few weeks. I’m just worried about you. Matthew's really nice, and he likes the same shitty music you do-”

“It’s good music.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I just…” he paused, his worry painted on his face, and there's no way you could’ve said no to him. “Honey, I want you to be happy. I don’t know what’s gotten into you recently” - your best friend, you thought - “but I just need to know you’re okay. So give this a go, for me, alright? And if you have an awful time, that’s it, I’ll never set you up again.”

You sighed. He was right; it’s just one night, one date. One box you have to tick to relieve the pressure that comes from having an affair with your next door neighbour, the one more than twice your age, the one your Dad would call a brother. And besides, your Dad would be working an overnight job, so you’d be spending the night at Joel’s anyway. Something to look forward to.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll go. For you.”

He pulled you in for a hug, tight, and you hugged him right back because you really do hate having to keep this from him. He pulled away, smiling - “great! It’s tonight at 7. He’ll pick you up.”

“You already arranged it?!” You near enough shrieked, but he’d already sauntered off to the kitchen, giggling as he went.

Typical.

So that’s how you ended up here, at 6:55pm, waiting by the front door for Marcus - or Michael, or something like that - to pick you up. Your phone buzzes, Joel’s name flashing on the screen, that alone making you feel that much calmer.

You’d text him as soon as you talked to your Dad, letting him know about the date. He understood, and you loved that about him; he was mature, compassionate, and he was more than secure in the fact that no matter who you talked to, who flirted with you on nights out, who you were set up with… you’d always come back to him.

Don’t worry about tonight, baby. It’ll go quickly. I’ll leave the door unlocked for when you get back. Text me if you need picking up. J x

You smile at his initial at the end - it’s such a Dad thing to do, but it makes you happy, especially when he adds a little kiss. He only does that for you.

The sudden sound of a car door closing snaps you out of your thoughts, Joel’s text left on read as what you assume to be your date heads up the driveway. You take a deep, nervous breath, smoothing out your dress and heading to the door just in time for his knock.

You open the door, take a good look at your date, and he’s… okay. Not unattractive, per se. Though you’d come to accept a little while ago that being with Joel had soured your perception of pretty much every other guy. His dusty blonde hair is slicked back with gel, his teeth are way too white, and he’s dripped in designer clothing that just screams, “I have a trust fund.”

“Oh, hi! I’m Matthew.” Right. Matthew. “You must be (Y/N).” He leans in to peck your cheek, and all you can think about is how smooth his skin is as it grazes yours. Nothing like Joel’s coarse stubble that you love so much - especially when it leaves red patches on your cheeks, and your neck, and if you’re really lucky -

Matthew leans back a little, confused, and you’re brought out of your daydream. “Sorry, yeah, that’s me. (Y/N).”

Well, that was awkward.

You just need to get through these next few hours, you think to yourself, smiling at the boy and letting him lead you out of the house and into his car. You can’t help but glance towards Joel’s place across the street; it looks quiet tonight, though his truck is in the driveway, and as soon as you look up you’re sure you catch the living room blinds suddenly draw shut. You smirk.

──────

The date was going… okay. About as okay as a date you don’t want to be on, with someone you have no interest in, and another man constantly on your mind could go. You could see why your Dad liked him; smart enough, well-polished. His father was a partner in the company, you learned - oh, he’s a ‘Daddy’s credit card’ type you’d thought - and by all intents and purposes he was the sort of guy any parent would hope to see their daughter end up with.

It’s never that easy though, is it?

Because he isn’t rough around the edges like Joel. He doesn’t have his stature, or carry himself with the same brute certitude. You can’t imagine him fucking you up against the wall, working himself up until he’s almost animalistic, somehow using you and worshipping you at the same time. And you can’t see him wrapping you up so tightly afterwards, holding you close and whispering how good you were for me, how proud of you I am.

No, only Joel could do that, and that’s how you like it.

The bill comes, Matthew suggests you split it. You don’t mind. He takes out his credit card, flashing it in front of you. “This is my Dad’s. I can use it as much as I want.” He’s smirking like he’s got something to be proud of, and you really had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Instead you just smile, before paying your share and making small talk as you head out the door and towards his car.

“So, I thought we could head back to my place.”

You freeze. Yeah, no, not gonna happen. He’s got this shit-eating grin on his face, one you knew all too well from past college boyfriends - that’s a boy who thinks he’s getting some tonight. You shudder, wrapping your arms around your waist and trying to sound sincere as you reply, “this has been lovely, but I’ve got an appointment early in the morning” - not really a lie, if staying in bed with a man over twice your age getting fucked or cuddled or both counts as an appointment - “so I’d rather just head home.”

You reach for the passenger side door, but it’s locked. You try again, pulling on the handle, but it doesn’t budge. You realise then that he’s stepped closer, too close, crowding your vision as you turn to face him while keeping one hand on the door’s handle. He leans an arm against the roof of the car, right beside your head, staring you down.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). I’ve got the house to myself tonight, it’ll just be us. I know that’s what you want, don’t be shy.”

His free hand pinches your chin, his touch aggressive where Joel’s is rough but careful, and he tries to close the already too-small gap between you.

You dodge him quickly, slipping out from under his arm and backing up, away from the car, away from him. Matthew just watches you, incredulous, before laughing to himself and taking a step forward. “Look, baby, I know you want this. What is it, are you scared your daddy’s gonna find out?”

“What? No, I-” you splutter, but he interrupts.

“Get in the car, (Y/N). You don’t have to worry about anyone finding out. I can see the way you look at me, I bet you’re dying to fu-”

A heavy sickness has flooded your stomach, your nerves shot from the sudden escalation of what was supposed to be a quiet, albeit tedious, night. But his words hit you, and before you can even think, you’re shouting back at him.

“You seriously think I want to fuck you? You can’t even pay your half of the bill with your own money. Fuck that. I’ll make my own way home.”

The smug look on his face is quickly washed away with anger, and you continue to slowly step backwards as Matthew follows you. A lick of fear sets in now as the pale streetlights cast shadows on his darkened expression, and you scold yourself for opening your mouth.

“The fuck did you just say to me? Do you know who my Dad is?” - this really isn’t a good time to roll your eyes - “You think you’re too good for me, you bitch? I’ll show you.”

He stalks you, and your eyes frantically dart back to the restaurant you’d just left, though you’d backtracked far enough to be almost at the door again.

People are dining and laughing, some just sitting and watching the world go by. You’re well within their view, and you turn back to see that Matthew’s gaze has followed your own and he’s connected the dots. He can’t do anything in front of them. He locks eyes with you again, scoffing, heading back to his car and loudly shouting something that sounded a lot like “fuckin’ bitch.” Nice.

He drives away; you’re safe, out of the situation, and as the relief floods you the adrenaline does too and tears prick at your eyes. You sit on a small bench just outside the restaurant, dotted with shrubbery and stains from spilt drinks you assume, and take out your phone.

Your last chat with Joel is already open, and you breathe slowly in an attempt to still your shaking hands as you type quickly,

Please come and get me. He was trying to get me to go back with him. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s gone now but I have no ride home.

The text is marked as ‘read’ almost as soon as you send it, though you receive no reply. You didn’t expect to; Joel wasn’t much of a texter. Like, at all. He was slowly getting used to it, what with it being one of the only ways you could really talk when slipping over to his place was too risky.

In this particular instance, you already knew he’d have read the text, dropped his phone without a second thought and hurried to his truck while muttering to himself what he’s gonna do to the kid, how he won’t see what’s comin’ to him.

Just how badly Joel might react worries you. He’s protective, incredibly so when it comes to you, and that combined with his white hot temper was surely a recipe for some sort of disaster.

Secretly, though, you loved it. And so as you sat on that little bench, frosty air nipping at your skin, you couldn’t help but revel in the warmth that pooled in your core at the thought of what sort of beast Joel would become tonight.

──────

It only takes him around 10 minutes to reach you, and you know for a fact he must’ve ran a red light or two because normally it’s a 20 minute drive at least into town. You stand, walking over to his truck, but before you can hop in he’s already storming out and wrapping you up in his arms, shielding you, eyes darting across the street.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“Joel, I-”

“(Y/N) where the fuck is he? I’m gonna kill that little bastard. Fucking-”

His body is tense, far more so than usual, and anger pours from him in buckets. You pull away to look up at him, his eyes still searching for the boy long gone, and you sigh. “He’s gone, Joel. He left.”

He finally meets your eyes, a cold frown etched on his face, and he somehow looks even angrier than usual. “Did he touch you?” His hands roam your body, searching for you didn’t know what, but you let him do whatever he needed to relax. To know you were safe.

“No, Joely, he didn’t. I’m fine, I promise.”

It usually softens him right up, your little nickname for him. Joely. The first few times you used it, he’d just scoff or roll his eyes, but the small smirk that crept onto his face each time let you know he loved it. Quite how much he loved it was a different story; you hadn’t got together then, though the both of you wanted it, and as your relationship blossomed you became the only one he ever let call him anything other than Joel.

It doesn’t work this time, though, and he remains stern, finally letting you go and searching your eyes for even a hint of anxiety or fear. “What happened?”

“He tried it on, I said no. He tried again, I backed up and made sure there were people watching,” you nod towards the restaurant, still bustling with life. “And he left.”

Joel nods. “You tell him to fuck off?”

“‘Course i did.”

It seems as if he finally lets up then, giving you a proper hug, one arm around your neck and the other around your waist. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, hard, and the tension leaves him. “That’s my girl.”

You squeeze him tight, burrowing into his shirt and inhaling the scent of him that you loved so much. With one arm around your shoulders, he guides you back to his truck, opening the door for you and helping you. He does it everytime, but it still makes you blush, and you’re sure his lips smirk slightly as your cheeks turn red. Worth it.

The ride back to home is quiet, only the sound of his radio and passing traffic echoing between you. He keeps a hand on your knee, always protective, and every now and then you rub your palm over it to let him know you appreciate it. To say thank you.

Joel was never good with words, and you’d learned over the last few months just how much he relies on touch to express himself. To show love. You’d picked up on his habits, his little signs, his way of telling you his deepest thoughts without having to speak a word.

And when you reciprocated, when you wrapped your hand around his, or brushed his side at the neighbours’ BBQ, or kissed his shoulder in the kitchen, you knew just what it meant to him.

Your driveway is empty as Joel turns onto your street - your Dad must have set off for work already. You sigh in relief; you didn’t have the energy to explain all this to him, and certainly not the energy to try and sneak into Joel’s without him seeing.

Joel steps out first, taking a quick look around to make sure no nosey neighbours were watching, a precaution you were both used to by now. He grabs the door for you again, holding your hand and helping you out, holding you close to his side as he unlocks the door and you both slip inside.

“What do you want to drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He pauses, looking at you, concerned. ”No. You need somethin’ to drink. You need to- to lie down, or somethin’.”

You follow him into the kitchen as he stalks past you, not giving you time to answer and filling a glass with water and ice. “Drink,” he hands it to you.

You take it, thanking him and sipping as he watches. It’s sweet; he cares about you, so much, and when he looks at you like this you can’t help but feel butterflies swirl in your stomach.

“I’m sorry.” It’s almost a whisper, so quiet you wouldn’t have heard if it weren’t so still already in his house.

“Hm?” You look at him, confused.

“I’m sorry he did that to you. S’not - s’not right. I mean, shit, what if you couldn’t get away?” He was spiralling.

“Hey, hey. Joel, it’s okay. I’m okay.” You set down the glass and take him in your arms. He calms, instantly, holding you tightly against him and cupping the back of your head with his hand.

“You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“I know.”

He sighs. “I just wanna protect you, honey.”

“I know.”

He pulls back to look at you, framing your face with his hands and running his thumbs along the edge of your cheekbones. You lean in, letting his lips capture yours in that sweet but desperate way that only Joel can, and moan into his mouth. He slips his tongue against yours, letting one arm fall to your waist as his hand lingers around the hem of your jeans.

The kiss becomes desperate and you reach for his belt, your arousal becoming unbearable as the memory of him so full of anger and protectiveness spins in your mind like a carousel. He breaks the kiss and you groan, chasing his swollen lips with yours.

“We don’t have to do this.” His southern drawl is slick with need, his eyes closed as he rests his forehead against yours. The moment is so sweet, so intimate, that any thoughts of what had happened today were long gone and your mind was full with sweepings of him.

“I want to.”

He grunts, pushing himself further into you so his nose brushes yours like a cat. So much so, you almost purr into him, and it makes you giggle. You curse yourself as he pulls back, cocking an eyebrow and giving you that stare you’d come to know all too well; you’re a pain in my ass, it says. But the corners of his lips turn upwards, and you step forward so you’re once again pressed right up against him, pressing gentle kisses to his jaw.

“You’ve had a big shock today, sweetheart,” he sighs.

You know he’s given up. You know he needs this as much as you do. But you humour him, and tip his head down so you can kiss his lips again.

“So make me forget.”

It snaps something within him, and you shriek as Joel sweeps you up in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist in instinct and your head burying itself in his neck. He laughs at the sound you make, something you’d always known to be so rare for him, but that he does far more often now he has you.

He carries you upstairs, gripping your thighs with his large hands, and the way he holds you so easily just turns you on more. He kicks his bedroom door open, all but throwing you on the bed and watching as you bounced softly on the sheets, undoing his belt that was already half-opened by your shaky hands.

“On your back. Lay your head towards me.”

You did as he said immediately, though your movements were slow, languid. He let you take your time; a part of you thinks he likes to watch you move for him, the way you put on a show, keeping your eyes locked on his and your lips slightly parted and puffy from his kiss.

You lie on your back, your head dangling off the edge, looking up at him upside down. The hard outline of his cock is just centimetres above you, swollen already, and your desperation to taste it must’ve shown on your face because Joel groans out a soft, strangled “fuck.”

“You need this cock, baby? Need your throat fucked?” You just nod rapidly, desperate for him to do something other than just stand there and watch you, your arousal becoming unbearable. Joel seems to break, too, pulling down his jeans and boxers and gripping his hard length in his hands.

It’s big at the best of times, but from this angle, his balls level with your eyes and his cock the only thing you can see when you look up at him, it’s painful how bad you need him.

You’d only discovered this position recently, on a night you’d spent at his place while your Dad was away with work, not unlike tonight. Joel had been floored, consumed with pleasure as the stretch of your spine made it so easy for him to slide himself through your mouth and down your throat, the muscles tensing around him and drawing his release much sooner than he’d have liked.

He slides the head of his cock over your lips, painting them in his precum. You whine, lapping at his taste, desperate but you know better than to lift your hands off the bed. No, you give him control, and he lavishes it.

“Open up, babygirl.”

You comply, parting your lips and moaning as Joel pushes inside, giving you no time to breathe. You try to control yourself, inhaling through your nose and letting your muscles relax before he bottoms out, his groin almost entirely covering your face and your throat full of his thickness.

It’s filthy, degrading, resigns you to nothing but his to fuck and use as he wants.

You love it.

“Such a good girl, baby. So good for me, ain’t ya?” You can hardly even nod as your tongue flicks along a particularly swollen vein. He begins to move, pulling out almost entirely before slamming his cock back into your mouth. You moan again, and it hurts, in that delectable way that’ll spend the next few days reminding you of this moment.

Joel’s got one hand on the wooden foot of the bed, keeping himself steady. The other finds its way to your neck, and he stalls as he feels his cock beneath your skin, rapidly pushing in and out. He moans your name, his hips rocking into you harder and harder, chasing a release you knew he wouldn’t let himself have just yet.

You’re completely at his mercy now, too consumed by his scent and his touch to think, and you hardly register him reaching for your hand and taking it in his own. He starts to mumble, and you only catch a few words - “my good girl. My girl. So- so fuckin’ pretty for me.”

He swells, your tongue working faster against him, his hand squeezing yours and his legs faltering when he suddenly pulls out and stands back with a whimper. Your eyes are glazed over, your sore throat misses him, and your pink swollen lips are trying to say something but you’re not sure what. It feels like his name.

“Come on, pretty girl, come here.” He sits beside you on the edge of the bed, wrapping his big arms around your back and guiding you into his lap.

His fingers dance over your entrance, collecting the slick that soaked your thighs before pushing a single finger inside, revelling in your arousal. He admires you as you squirm, rolling your hips against his hand, desperate for more and moaning against his lips.

It’s almost embarrassing how easy you unravel for him, and if it weren’t for your utter infatuation for the man, you’d have hidden your pleasure and at least tried to hold onto some sense of dignity. But you were obsessed, addicted to him, and he knew it. Because god, was he addicted to you, too.

He kisses you, letting another finger slip inside and catching your hiss with his mouth. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, opening his eyes to look at you, his cock twitching against your thigh.

“Tell me what you need, angel.”

“Y- you, Joel. I need you. Please.” You hardly register yourself saying the words, but they do the trick, as Joel removes his fingers and instead lines the tip of his cock with your soaking wet entrance.

“Please, please, fuck me. Fuck-”

He snaps his hips upwards, driving his cock into your cunt and you gasp as he stretches you. You grip at his shoulders, sure to leave marks, but you know he loves it.

He sets the pace, guiding you to bounce on his cock as his hips snap upwards again and again, fucking you so hard you can almost see stars.

His head is buried in your neck, kissing and nipping at the delicate skin, and you try to regain some autonomy and roll your hips side to side making him mewl.

“So - oh, fuck - so good baby, keep doin’ that.” He spurs you on as your breathless moans and the heavy slap of skin on skin fills the room, lewd but addictive.

The pace is brutal, unforgiving as your thighs tremble and you wonder if he’s feeling the burn of his movements. If he does, he doesn’t show it, just ramming into you and moaning your name against your ear.

His hand falls from your waist and finds its way to your clit, making you gasp as he circles his thumb around the spot. The near pornographic moan that falls from his lips as you roll into his touch is nearly enough to make you cum right there, but you know better than to cum before he tells you to.

Instead he hoists you further up, giving him better control of your hips, and angles his cock so it hits that perfectly raw spot deep inside you that has tears in your eyes.

“I- I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby. Just hold on for me. I’ve got you.” You cry at his denial, though it’s quickly forgotten as he flips you over onto your back, his head still tucked under the crook of your neck, his cock still buried inside you. He resumes his fast pace, reaching even deeper inside you with your legs locked around his waist, and you moan so loudly you worry someone’s going to hear you.

Joel doesn’t seem to care as he pulls back to look at you, marvelling at how utterly fucked-out you look for him. His pace starts to falter, each thrust more desperate than the last, and he frantically pushes his tongue into your mouth as you moan in unison.

“Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock, that’s it.” You release on command, crying out as waves of pleasure spread like fire through your body, and the uncontrollable spasms of your orgasm make Joel groan as he spills inside you, still rocking into you and carrying both of your highs.

He doesn’t let his cock slip out of you as he wraps an arm under your back and rolls onto his side, holding you close as he brushes the matted hair away from your forehead and replaces it with a soft kiss. You hum, snuggling into him and trying not to gasp at the feeling of his cock inside you while you were still so sensitive. He can see you flinch and smiles, though he just wants you to rest for now.

“You okay, babygirl?” You just hum again, but he taps your chin and you look up.

“Answer me, angel.”

“I’m good. Tired.”

Joel nods, running his hand through your hair and agreeing, “me too.”

You’re quiet for a moment, almost dozing off as the heat that radiates from him lulls you gently to seep, when he breaks the silence again. “What’s his name?”

“Hm?” You reply, too fucked-out to really understand what he was saying.

“That little asshole. What’s his name?”

He’s looking down at you, brows knitted together, and you just sigh. “It doesn’t matter, Joel. He doesn’t matter. I promise.”

“But-“

You cut him off with a kiss, and the tension that built in his shoulders is quickly dissipated. “No ‘but’s. Get some sleep.”

“Aright,” he resigns. “I love you.”

It slips out, sudden, and he freezes before he realises the joy that’s spread across your face from his words. It’s the first time either of you have said it, and the way your eyes light up are enough to let him die a happy man. You nuzzle his nose, your hand gently lay on his chest, your eyes falling shut again. “I love you too, Joel.” He wraps you up tighter, grinning, happy. In love.. “And no asking my Dad, either.”

He scoffs, “I wasn’t going to!” You just cock a brow, eyes still shut, and though you can’t see him you know he’s rolling his eyes. “Let me get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

He pulls out of you slowly, making you wince at the loss, and sits up on the bed. When you can still feel his weight beside you, you crack an eye open to see him quickly typing something on his phone, and you frown. “Joel?”

He startles and drops his phone, turning to you and kissing the top of your head. “Sorry, baby, I’m going - just gimme a sec to get you a warm cloth.”

As he leaves for the bathroom you snatch his phone, already knowing what he’d done. Your Dad’s name is at the top of the screen, the chat from just moments ago still open:

What’s the name of that kid (Y/N) went out with?

Matthew Wicks, he’s the new apprentice at work. Why?

Just wondered.

You’re weird, man.

Joel creeps out of the bathroom, frozen as he sees you lock his phone. He offers a small, guilty smile, quickly wiped away as you grab his pillow and playfully launch it at his chest.

“JOEL!”

──────

Thank you so much for reading! As ever, comments and weblogs are so appreciated, and please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in my future fics!

#dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x yn #dbf!joel x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x yn #pedro pascal #tlou fic #tlou show

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dropsnectar · 8 days

Text

Fawning Rose: Vine Monster x GN!Reader

The Adventures of an Elven Herbalist Part One

NSFW or NSFT

This is my first time writing anything in 6 years so keep that in mind. Also my first smut fic. Or monster fic. I literally learned about the sexual parts of plants for this fic. Don't know how I got here but this was fun! btw if you don't like oviposition, I marked the parts with three !!! before and after that scene, so you can skip it if you want.

WORD COUNT: 3167, or 7 pages on Docs

It had been a long journey from your home country, having to cross an entire sea to get to the sleepy elven town of Hairevick. An Herbalist, you could craft pills to treat a human flu, create a poultice for a dwarves sore, work-tired limbs; even brew potions to help a beastmen ease out of a mating season-- but it was still lonely. Their were no elves about, except for the rogue eccentric nomad.

Feeling as you had fully mastered your craft in that area, and curious about your kind, you set forth in hopes of bettering yourself. However, when introducing yourself to your neighbors, you found everyone to be polite, but detached. As far as elves went, you were quite young, and the people of Hairevick were elder and not so trusting of outsiders. But worse of all, everyone here seemed to have an excellent knowledge of the local flora and fauna, and their uses in maintaining health. There was no need for an herbalist, especially one so unfamiliar with their lands.

You spent the entire week mourning your state over glasses and pints of botanical alcohol-- The local tavern drinks were amazing!-- until you finally met a sympathetic face.

He had long silver hair and the wisp of a ginger beard around his sharp jaw; a peculiar trait. He greeted you friendly enough, asking how you were settling in. It turned out that he owned a store in town, selling odds and ends. He even had a little apothecary in the corner, where those who couldn’t be bothered to make a forest run would buy herbs and tinctures.

Starved for companionship, you bombarded him with questions about clients, and local herbalism. He was jovial, and after quite a few dregs of honey yarrow grog, offered you a book on the local flora. After some midnight bonding over stories of patients, he gave you a proposition.

He was having some issues procuring some materials from a special plant, a Fawning Rose. It had incredible healing properties, but a bad habit of uprooting itself and fleeing from anyone who wasn’t a youth. If you could lure it out and bring back anything, be it petals, roots, greens, he would pay you handsomely. Maybe even give you some lessons on how to work with local plant life.

It was for this reason that you found yourself two days into a trip to the heart of the Haire Wilds bordering town. It was not going well.

***

The cool air caressed your skin as you entered the grove. You had caught a peculiar sweet smell, somehow floral and buttery at the same time, and had followed it with hope filling your heart. The scent had gotten so thick you could taste it, strong as a tea on your tongue. Blue wildflowers covered the ground, interrupted by the common tree route or vine.

Your eyes followed the vines or small roots, colored a sage with a speckled gradient to midnight blue. They traveled up into the middle of the grove. Sunlight, so rare this far into the Wilds, fell down in large delicious specks from the trees. They refracted off a large flower, almost two yards in width. Its petals were raspberry pink, turning blood red in the middle. Vines from its base led upwards and rested on the low boughs of the nearest trees, framing the flower and its various young buds like some sort of ethereal art study.

You grew excited, feet tripping over roots as you ran forward, losing a shoe. You lost balance again and landed face first into the crook of a particularly large vine and hit your head. Hard.

Hot pain crashed through you, making you curse as you steadied yourself. You tried to get up but the heat struck your temple like lightning as you moved upwards. Alright. Best to stay down then.

As you waited, you were able to see past the stars in your eyes and notice a slight powdery substance on the vines. It, too, was pink.

Maybe it was the thrill of finally finding the damn thing, or the head injury, but you felt different. You could hear your heart pumping hard in your chest, pleasantly tight. Your breath was ragged, the air pushing a hard, chilling heat through you.

Like a particularly good run, your mind registered. A high.

Your limbs started to tingle at the tips.

The rose’s perfume felt more like a mist now. You were only a few feet away from the base flower, and the scent had turned heady. Your hunger from a missed meal seemed to be surfacing, goaded on by the delectable smell the plant was giving off. While the pain eased and the stars disappeared from your eyes, you noticed that the lightheaded fuzzy feeling stayed.

Uh oh. Not a concussion.

You had to work hard to bring the fear into your mind. There was very little anyone could do to help you out here. The best you could do was not move around too much, and hoped the Fawning Rose would cooperate.

Suddenly, you notice some movement from the roots under your palms.

No no no not now! Please, I haven’t harvested you yet! You thought as you tried to scramble up.

The roots moved upwards with you, shoving you onto your side. Sliding around your feet, one took your other shoe with it as it slithered about under you. Another seemed to upend itself and squeeze cooly between your toes. You jumped a bit, but your gaze and mind were slow.

Something thick gilded itself on your shoulder making you look up. Vines, three, four, five of them descended and started rubbing themselves against you like cats. The movement was kicking up clouds of the pink pollen, making you sneeze as you wiggled against the plants outer limbs.

A part of you was horrified, thinking that perhaps you had scared the thing off. After all, you had been warned that this type of rose was particularly skittish. But the plant did not seem to be gathering itself to run away, rather it was pulling you closer to itself, the dragging tearing at the underside of your clothes.

Try as you might, you couldn't seem to think. Foggy, fuzzy, your mind was like cotton. The tingling in your fingertips has spread through your body, and an embarrassed part of your brain noticed your lower body was starting to awaken too. A warmth was beginning to pool in your gut, slow and lazy. Tingly. Fuzzy, like your head.

The vines continue to rub against your body, tearing the rest of your clothes away until only skin remains. They were relentless, cool against your hot skin. Their outer layers were textured but still smooth; a foreign sensation but extremely exciting. It felt almost like something was licking you, the powder giving a wet feel as it spread itself all over. Liquid heat glazed the innermost parts of you, much to your embarrassment.

Aphrodisiac. You finally registered. You started to curse out that damned store keeper.

You’d been played.

You were now at the base of the flower, with even more roots and vines cradling and moving over your body. You were… pushed? Pulled? A foot into the air, close enough so that some of the smaller buds were leaning over you, as if they were getting a good look at you. You felt a knowing, a presence from this plant now. It really was looking at you.

Some desperate part of your mind, far far back in your mind, tries to set off danger bells. That you needed to get up and run.

Ooze started to secrete from the smaller buds, and the already overpowering scent of floral butteriness seemed to multiply. It dripped out onto your belly, warm and tingling, then your chest, your inner thigh, even a bit on your cheek.

The syrup dribbled down into the planes of your mouth as you wriggled under the vines. A particularly mischievous one pushes through the plush cheeks of your ass and moves up, poking at your entrance, causing you to gasp.

The liquid touches your tongue. It tastes just as it smells, deliriously delicious. Sweet. Hot. It was divine compared to the little rations you’ve been eating the last few days. Like youd been starving and had sudden.ly been given free reign of a pastry shoppe. But no pastry could top this silky butteriness

What little heat that had kindled inside you was now a roaring flame, putting your past arousal to shame. You groan, and pull your head up, sticking your tongue out for more. A part of you is screaming to stop and run, but it is a stupid part that is buried instantly under your sudden overwhelming need. You are desperately horny, and you deserve to feel good after all the trouble you've been through lately.

Still sticking out your tongue, you start to moan even louder as the vine messages your entrance with its thick girth. At the same time, one of the buds above your face seems to notice your desperation, and leans down to your lips.You lick at its plush petals and sweet sweet nectar seeps into your mouth. It tastes much like a floral pastry and you suck greedily as it pushes itself deeper in.

The petals are so soft, yet still firm in your mouth as a river of nectar floods your throat. You giggled around it as it started to take its full effect. You felt light as air, so good.

The vines had moved over to allow a bud to circle itself around your most sensitive part. You gasped out as it started to suck you, making stars flood your already glistening eyes. Your wet lashes fluttered as it began to suck wave after wave of pleasure out of your body.You had never felt so good, you noted somewhere in your sex drunk mind. The whole time, the bud leaked nectar, completely soaking all parts of your groin.

The nectar left your skin feeling sensitive, and completely soaked. This seemed to please the vines, which continued to massage the oil about you, then finally push in. You cried out at the sensation. Drool started to pool out of your mouth, mixing with the nectar.

The vines rubbed lazy curving lines around your walls, making your hips jerk and shake. They seemed to know what they were doing as they started out slow for a time, then sped up their pace, thrashing about inside you. You clench around them, overwhelmed by the unyielding sensation. The pooling heat in you was building high, and you could tell the walls were about to break.

A rogue, mischievous bud had decided to examine your hole, tracing around your entrance in lazy circles. The petals were so soft, softer than skin. The texture made you feel desperate. As if to read your mind, the bud stopped. It must have been blooming because you felt little feelers, probably stamans, tracing about your genitals, wet with its lovely, delicious pollen.

You swore and whined and pleaded for more as the vines fucked you through it, voice garbled by nectar. Another, thicker vine veined in indigo added itself to its companions and you finally came. The rush was like being tossed in the ocean, a shock that completely enveloped your entire body in cold, pulsing ecstasy. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your juices spilled down on the forest floor below.

The echoes of the waves of pleasure were still rocking through you when the vines surrounded your body started to move you upwards again. The vines were slow and delicate as they handled you, as if you were precious cargo. You were brought upwards, almost as if they were about to set you on your feet. Your neck was out, as you were still suckling the addicting flower liquid.

You noticed through your long damp hair that you were positioned just over the center of the Fawning Roses main flower. A drop of nectar slipped out from inside you and dribbled down and onto the flower's green pistil. The stigma was thick, with four fat lumps at the top. The stamen surrounding it swayed, almost as if there was a breeze. Their magenta anthers rained down more pollen, causing a beautiful gradient against the deep red at the middle of the large petals. It was a truly breathtaking sight.

A single vine wiggled towards your face and pushed back your hair. You found the gesture almost sweet, leaning into its touch. You remained like that for a time, before the vines started to lower you on to the stigma.

No no no, you tried to whisper, some understanding dawning; but the bud was being aggressive with its feeding, pushing further in your mouth. It had a job, and its job was to make you so desperately horny and stupid, you’d let this flower breed you.

The stigma was a hard fit at first. Its lumpy texture felt so good rubbing against you, you couldn’t help but hump back into it. The vines around you squeezing your skin, tilting your hips this way in that, trying to make the fit. The surrounding stamen started to rub their anthers against you, two started focusing on your nipples. You continued to hump the stigma, smearing the nectars from your groin all over it. Then, finally, finally, You were able to squeeze it in.

The vines had taken over the humping for you now, pushing you down harder and harder onto the pistil. The lumps dragged against your walls in such a beautiful way, that you screamed out babbling whines. Your skin was covered in nectar and bright pink pollen. Every part of you was being squeezed, rubbed, oozed upon with tingling liquid, that you weren’t even sure you had a body anymore, just pleasure. After you came for the fourth time, you started to feel a pulsing within the pistil. It was like the thing seemed to grow within you.

! ! !

Ridges started to squeeze against your entrance, rubbing against your walls. They moved up, up, up, into the deepest parts of you. There was a sudden burst of warmth, then something small and squishy. You marveled at the texture, as the flower continued to lower you down on the pistil, now at a slower pace, in smaller movements. You ached so badly, but the new sensation of the objects and warmth inside you made you wanna keen louder. They felt sort of like eggs.

Seedpods. You registered lazily. You were being turned into a seedbed.

This realization only seemed to turn you on even more. They felt so good, rolling about inside your walls. The warmth they brought rivaled the cool temperature of the pistil, a delightful duality.

You moaned with every bulge, push, then pop of warmth and heaviness. It was getting to the point now where the vines were pulling you up off the pistil to make more room for the seeds.

! ! !

You were cumming so much now you lost count. It was getting to the point that you were just continuously orgasming, as the seeds and the pistil dragged against your most sensitive parts.

You may have been like that for hours, days even, the nectar kept you so dizzy you couldn’t tell time. But at some point you were so full that the pistil seemed satisfied. The wriggling stamen around you stilled, and the vines carefully lifted you off the pistil, giving one last drag within your walls.

The bloom inside your mouth slowly dragged itself out, making you whine in protest. The vines carefully laid you down at the foot of their roots, arranging your body in a comfortable position. The vines slowly retreated from your body. They lazily moved about, sometimes knocking into each other in a way that was almost comical. Their movements seemed lazy, almost like it too was spent.

As the last vine left your skin, it caressed your cheek. Within you some affection of your own seemed to bloom. The haze that was in your mind was starting to dull, and replaced itself with the need to rest. Your heavy eyes closed and you gave into sleep.

***

You awoke without opening your eyes. You could feel that the curving mound of roots you’d been sleeping on had been replaced with fluffy grass and soil. The smell of freshly tilled earth flooded your nose, and you jolted upright, eyes wide.

The grove was quiet, and empty of the Fawning Rose. All that was left behind was you, the upturned soil it had left behind, and light dusting of pink pollen on the trees. Even the sweet pastry-like smell had left the grove.

You looked down at your naked, sore body and groaned. You could see a trail of bruises from where the vines had gripped you, along with dried out nectar and tons of pink pollen. Your stomach puffed out a bit more than normal, meaning all of this had NOT been a dream. Much to your surprise, nothing hurt though. Your body felt great, healthily spent like you had just run a marathon. Considering how hard you had been working there should have been some pain, but there wasn’t. Just the pleasant pressure of the seedpods against your insides.You recall the conversation with the shop owner at the tavern. Looks like this is the flower's healing abilities at work.

You continued to search around the grove. Your clothes were still in shreds on the forest floor, but your bag was safely tucked under one of the trees the flower had rested its vines in. With some effort, you managed to get yourself off the ground to pick it up, waddling the whole way.

The pollen was still working its magic on you, but you guessed you had been exposed to it long enough to build a slight tolerance. Or maybe the growing rage within you was doing the trick. You pulled out one of the many glass bottles, and a silver knife. You went to work, scraping the dried nectar and pollen off your body, into the jars.

I’m gonna charge that asshole so much money, his kids will be poor. You seethed as you spent hours getting your money's worth off of every plane of your body. You’d have to birth those seed pods later too. Your insides grew warm at the thought.

You tried not to think about how you were going to have to walk home naked, where you’d been and what you’d been doing laid bare upon your skin. It’d be free advertising tho, you tried to reason.

You'd make a killing. Aphrodisiacs were rare, and extremely expensive, especially to a crowd of immortals. I think I'll sell these seed pods on my own though. You smiled.

You’d make sure to be properly prepared the next time you went into the wilds.

Might do a part two, maybe with slimes next time? Also sorry about any switching of tenses, I have a hard time with that! Hope you guys enjoyed!

#monster x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #monster #vines #tentacles #monster x gn reader #teratophillia #terat0philliac #tentacle smut #vine smut #monster smut #ovipositor

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whimsyfinny · 2 months

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: language, violence, oral (male receiving)

Chapter Word Count: 5306

—-MDNI—-

A/N: kind of an odd chapter tbh, there was a few things that I wanted to write so it felt best to squeeze them all in together. I want to start getting into the romance side of things with Dean, so I guess that starts here. Also I’ve been away sick so I’ve added a bit of spiciness.

New readers start here: Prologue

Previous Chapter: Chapter 13

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 14

I grasped the hanger off the rail and slung the pair of flared jeans over my arm to join the other items I was purchasing. Dean had been kind enough to give me a hundred bucks in cash - God knows where from - to get myself whatever I needed whilst he and Sam sauntered off to the menswear stores. As I browsed, lifting a crocheted crop top up before scrunching my nose at the thought of how little it would cover, the bell to the store jingled as someone else walked in. I heard footsteps slowly pace down the short aisle I was in, and as I placed the top back on the rail, I almost jumped out of my skin as someone started talking.

“Oh hey, it's (Y/n) right? You're bunking with the Winchester boys?”

I snapped my head up at the female voice, not expecting anyone out here but Sam and Dean to know my name. My eyes met a pair of warm brown ones, faint crows feet in the corners from years of joy and smiles. I recognised her; she was the short haired woman in the bunker kitchen the night we got back from the strip club.

“Uuhhhh ye- yes! You know Sam and Dean?” My expression was clearly confused as she grinned and held out her hand.

“The names Jody Mills. I've known the boys for a while now - through hunting. It's a pleasure to meet you at last - I've heard great things about you,” I juggled the clothing in my arms and grasped her outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake. She seemed to grin at that.

“Oh, they talk about me? I had no idea,” I suddenly felt a little nervous, the knowledge that I've been the topic of conversations unbeknownst to myself made me sweat a little. Jody seemed to notice this.

“They've only had great things to say, so don't panic! Especially that boy Dean. Not sure how you've done it chick but you really got that wild card wrapped around your little finger,” she raised her eyebrows almost suggestively and I felt heat start to prickle my skin.

“Wh-what? No no no, he's not-” I watched as her head tilted in my direction, eyebrows still raised as a slight grin tugged on her lips. “Have I really?”

She hummed and nodded her head, starting to flick through the clothing rail that I'd been looking at before.

“I've known that boy a few years now, and I've never seen him run to anyone the way he ran to you that night you appeared in the kitchen, looking like a kicked kitten,” she smiled softly and squeezed my arm, “you're something special to him honey, so try not to break his heart.”

“Oh,” was all I managed to say, with what I can imagine was the dumbest look on my face as I felt myself getting redder by the second. A phone ringing suddenly pulled me from my dazed thoughts as Jody reached into her pocket and answered the call. She spoke in a sterner tone than what she'd used with me, and after a few words were exchanged she hung up and returned the device to her pocket.

“I've gotta get going, but I'll try and catch you all again later. I'm in the area for a bit so I'll try and pop by. It was lovely to meet you (Y/n),” she squeezed my arm one last time before turning to leave, the bell on the door signalling her departure. I stood for a moment, my mind spinning from what she'd said about Dean. There was absolutely no way that what she'd said was true. I mean, I beat the crap out of him when we first met, and we've bickered a lot. I guess we've not argued for a good few days. And we've had sex. Oh the sex. I bit my lip as thoughts of us tangled in his sheets came to mind. Not just thoughts, but memories. Like I said to him this morning, we're just fuck buddies. Right?

Leaving the store with two large paper bags in one hand and my phone in the other, I first dialled Sam to find out where he was down this stretch of high street. When it went to voicemail, I hung up and dialled Deans number instead. It rang and rang, and when I thought his was going to ring through as well, he finally answered.

“Hey sweetheart, what's up?”

“Hey, I'm finished getting what I need. Whereabouts are you?”

“Uhhh…” I heard him turn to the shop assistant and ask for the name of the store he was in before he relayed it to me.

“Cool, I'll be there in two minutes. See you soon.”

“See ya.”

And with a click I hung up and tucked my phone into my back pocket and walked no more than two hundred yards to get to where he was still trying on boots. As I gingerly walked in, well aware it was a men's store and I was currently the only woman in here, Deans head snapped to the door when the arrival bell jingled.

“Hey sweetheart, you're just in time! I have no idea what to get.”

I couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the thought of the great Dean Winchester getting stumped by the more domesticated side of life.

“Well I'm here to help,” I placed my bags on the bench next to his discarded jacket. “What are the options?”

We must've spent half an hour going over the ones he'd shortlisted, then he chose an entirely different pair anyway, unrelated to the ones he'd picked out for himself.

Leaving the store and a quick phone call between the brothers, we all concluded that now was the best time to stop for lunch. Dean and I made a quick trip back to Baby to drop off our bags, with Dean opting to sport his brand new boots in favour of his old and decrepit ones. It was a short walk back to the high street now that we were bag free, and I could see Sam a mile off - his tall frame loitering outside the chosen diner, the occasional woman walking past throwing a few looks his way. He, of course, was oblivious to those looks, and when he spotted us as we neared he offered a wave. He sprouted a wide, friendly grin as we came to stand next to him.

“You guys get everything you need?”

“Yep! Took Cinderella a while to find the right boots but we got there in the end,” I flashed Dean a playful smirk as he tilted his head in slight annoyance at the nickname, which pulled a light hearted laugh from Sam.

“Oh yeah? Well, at least I didn’t spend twenty bucks on a thrifted Carhartt hoodie.”

“Hey that is durable shit, it’s worth every penny.”

“You could've had one of mine, I don't wear hoodies much anymore.”

“I somehow feel like there'd be a catch with that.”

“Uuhh, I got my jacket, if anyone cares?” Sam decided to interject, and we both turned to look at him.

“Good for you Sammy.”

“Yeah, nice one Sam,” I looked around for a second, not seeing any bags, “where is it?”

He gave me a funny look.

“What?”

“Seriously?” He asked, looking between Dean and myself. I looked at the older Winchester and seemed to have the same questions I did.

“Guys, I’m wearing it. Did you seriously not notice?”

I bit my lip.

“It looks exactly the same,” Dean spoke my own thoughts out loud.

“Well I mean technically it is. But it's not all scuffed up. Look you can clearly tell it's new,” he gestured with his hands that were still in his pockets, flapping the jacket around like he was an elongated flying squirrel.

“Not really.”

“Nope,” Dean popped the ‘p’ before he walked past both of us, “come on guys I'm starving, can we just go in?”

A simple lunch in the diner turned into beers in the bar which somehow turned into karaoke followed by shots. The place was bustling - all tables and booths occupied and a permanent flow of people ordering drinks. Most of the guys were of similar tastes, donning boots and leather jackets whilst the few women that were there pranced around in short-shorts and low cut tops. I for one felt a little out of place. The three of us were lucky to snag a booth, albeit close to the small stage situated up front, and I’d tucked myself into the corner, cradling my rum and coke. Dean had left his jacket beside me whilst he’d ventured off to challenge a group of guys to a ‘friendly’ game of pool, his laugh occasionally flowing over the chatter and music towards where Sam and I were sitting.

“How long do you think it’ll be until they realise they’re being conned?” I quizzed, taking a gulp from my glass and letting the bubbles fizz on my tongue before swallowing. Sam chuckled, taking a second before answering.

“Uhhh I don’t think these guys will find out until tomorrow morning.” We both laughed, knowing full well that Dean will spend all night gloating about how great he is, how we should bow in respect of the swindle master. I was lost in thought for a moment, wondering how much money he would actually walk away with when Sam’s voice pulled me back to reality.

“(Y/n), can I ask you something?”

I took another gulp of my drink, knowing full well what that puppy-dog look in Sam’s eyes meant, that furrow in his brow only accentuating it.

“Sure, go ahead.”

He took a breath.

“Are you ok? Like, really ok? Because if I’m honest, if I saw someone who I thought was dead - that I used to be in love with - stand before me after years of believing I’d never see them again; I don’t think I would be ok.”

I fiddled with the hem of Deans shirt sleeve for a second, my brain swarming with every thought I’ve been avoiding since the other night and keeping every little buzz under lock and key. I hated to admit it, but I was afraid to open Pandora’s box for the fear of ice cold confrontation. It wasn’t the wisest option, but putting the skeletons back in their closet and throwing out the key was what I genuinely thought was best. I let out an emotionally exhausted sigh before slumping back in my seat.

“I’m not ok. It still feels like some sort of fucked up fever dream, but… but thinking about it isn’t going to make me feel any better. Talking about someone who’s been dead to me for years isn’t going to take this messed up feeling away. In my mind, there’s nothing to get over where he’s concerned. Yeah, he was my teenage sweetheart, but I’m a grown woman now with a whole new brain and a whole new heart,” I could’ve kicked myself for letting my eyes flick over to Dean.

Sam sighed, resting his elbows on the table, a small smile twitching on his lips.

“If you’re sure, because you know I’m always here if you want to talk.”

“I know, thanks Sam,” I gave him a soft smile, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “Although, just one thing…”

“What’s that?” He sat up straighter.

“I don’t think it’s Daniel as a person that has me feeling like this - I grieved him and moved on from him years ago. I think… I think it’s the thought of that soul crushing sorrow coming back that scares me the most. The kind of sorrow that makes you forget what day it is; that stops you from eating and going outside and taking care of yourself. It makes you lose friends and interest in hobbies. It makes the whole world look grey and lifeless. You feel so unbearably numb that you aren’t even sure why you’re alive anymore. It makes you want to die.”

“(Y/n)…” Sam seemed at a loss for any other words as he held my hand softly across the table, running his thumb gently over my knuckles. I took a deep breath before carrying on.

“I felt like that when I lost Daniel, but when I lost Bobby, I… I…” I felt my voice crack slightly, “when I lost Bobby it was so much worse, I genuinely never thought I’d be normal ever again. Luckily for me, Charlie found me,” I grinned, remembering her determination to piece me back together. I looked up from where our hands joined, meeting Sam’s gaze.

“The only way I’d go through any of that again would be if I was to lose you guys. I know it’s not been long, but for once I’ve found something that makes me want to get out of bed in the mornings. That shit is hard to find.”

We both took a moment, feeling the weight of my words as we shared a gaze. I knew from the way his brows drew together and that far away look in his eyes that he felt everything I’d said. He’d experienced it first hand. And he knew that he didn’t have to say much, if anything, to convey that he understood. Slowly pulling my hand out from under his and placing my palm over his knuckles, I gave a gentle squeeze before standing, letting him go and grasping my glass. I threw the last mouthful back, the liquid vigorously fizzing down my throat before warming my chest. As I swallowed, I held my glass up and raised an eyebrow at Sam.

“Well shit, would you look at that - my glass is empty. Guess I’m heading to the bar. You need a top up?”

“Yeah, please. Remind me to get the next round,” he grinned as I slid out the booth and headed towards the bar. As I waded through the crowd I passed the pool table, glancing over at Dean who was deeply engrossed in taking a player's hard earned money out of his grasp. I watched the smug grin spread over his lips as he counted then pocketed the cash.

I looked up to see an opening at the bar so I squeezed in, perching myself on a stale beer-scented barstool whilst I waited for the barman to notice me. After a couple of minutes of being served he placed the drinks before me and I paid on one of Deans ‘special’ credit cards, scooping all three glasses into my grasp - with an insane amount of skill - and turned to leave. The moment my ass left the seat cushion however I found myself toe-to-toe with a very tall and very rugged stranger, the smell of cigarettes and old leather wafting around him.

“Not seen you around these parts before doll; I know I’d recognise such a pretty face,” he had a grim smirk on his face and his voice was like sandpaper - rough but certainly not sexy. I tried to take a step back but only ended up seated back on the barstool.

“Just passing through,” I did my best to flash a polite smile in the hopes he would sense I didn’t want to have this conversation. No such luck.

“A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be in a place like this all alone. Things might…happen.”

A shudder ascended my spine into my neck and I tried my best to subtly shake it out before I gave into my more defensive side.

“Who the fuck do you think I am with this many drinks? They’re clearly not all mine… ergo, I have company.”

His gross grin widened, the subject of my statement clearly not settling correctly in the empty space between his ears.

“Getting feisty… I like it. Can’t get much better than a little thing with a mouth.”

I shuddered again.

“What part of ‘I have company’ do you not fucking understand? And even if I was alone, I definitely wouldn’t be going anywhere with you.”

His grimy smirk faltered slightly, finally absorbing some of my words that seemed to be floating in the air around his thick skull.

“Aw don’t be like that.”

“Oh I’m gonna ‘be like that’ until you leave me the fuck alone.”

He took a lumbering step forwards, pushing me further onto the barstool.

“See now there’s a point when a mouth on a pretty thing becomes down right obnoxious, and you’re nearing that point sweetheart.”

“Don’t you fucking ‘sweetheart’ me you dick,” I was mentally preparing to buy another round of drinks as the thought of throwing these three at this asshole was becoming sweeter by the second, and people were starting to watch on but there wasn’t a single white knight in sight.

“Well now you’ve just crossed that line,” the second I saw him start to raise his arms my instincts kicked in and I gave into my previous thought and doused him in liquor, the amber liquid running down his face and neck and soaking into his clothes. He looked down at himself in disbelief before lifting his head back up, this time baring his teeth and raising his hand as if to slap me. I reflexively raised my arms and squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact.

“You stupid bitch.”

“If you touch a hair on her goddamn head ‘imma put you six feet under.”

My eyes shot open and I lowered my hands to see a seething Dean Winchester, a single strong hand wrapped around my harasser's wrist.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The faintest smirk pulled at the corner of Deans mouth before disappearing as quickly as it appeared, leaving nothing but quiet rage burning across his features.

“I’m about to be your biggest fucking problem.”

Before the asshole could even react Deans hand went from twelve O’clock to six O’clock in half a second with a sickening snap, breaking the jerks elbow with deadly skill. Practised skill. Whilst my harasser cried out and cradled his limp arm, Dean let go of him before a few of the onlookers gave Dean a nod of approval before escorting the creep out. Once he knew he was out of the building, Dean turned to me, softly grasping my chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Are you ok? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” He tilted my face left and right, scrutinising over my unharmed skin. When he was sure that there wasn’t a scratch on me he let go, relief flooding his gaze as he sighed.

“Dean I’m fine, I promise,” I reached up, fingers hesitantly grazing his stubbled cheek before I thought better of it and dropped my hand to his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“I swear to God (Y/n), if he’d laid a finger on you he’d get a lot more than a busted elbow,” his hand came to rest on my bicep, his long fingers gently wrapping around my arm in subconscious comfort, almost pulling me towards him. My own hand seemed to slide down from his shoulder to rest softly on his chest, my fingertips feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath.

“I know,” I reassured, giving him a little smile to which he returned. I felt my soft smile turn mischievous as thoughts started conjuring in my mind.

“Come on, Sam is waiting for another drink, let's order and get back to the table.”

The bartender had seen Dean step in to help me, so luckily for us this round was on the house. As we slid into the booth opposite Sam I slid his drink over to him.

“What happened back there?” He asked, mildly concerned.

“Just some asshole thinking I was gonna leave this place with him,” I sighed, sitting down, Dean taking his seat beside me. Sam's eyes flicked between the two of us.

“I'm sure I saw him leave with his arm all out of shape, was that-”

“Yeah well, shrimp-dick had it coming,” Dean was doing his best to act nonchalant, however the moment our eyes met over the top of our drinks we couldn't stop the giggles from tumbling out.

“Guys, Dean, you can't go around breaking elbows-”

“Relax Sammy. No one's gonna say anything, they all saw him acting like a creep. Just didn't have the balls to step in. Anyway,” a darker look clouded his eyes as his gaze bore into his younger brother, “he was harassing our girl, Sam. Ain't no way in Hell I was gonna let that slide.”

There was a moment of thick silence before Sam nodded, finally agreeing with Deans actions, knowing that if it had come down to it, he might've done the same. I raised my glass to my lips, taking a long sip before placing it back on the table, looking between the boys as they continued to have some sort of silent conversation that I wasn't a part of. The mischievous thoughts from earlier kept bubbling in my mind, and it didn't take any self-convincing for me to act on them. I shuffled slightly closer to Dean, not enough to draw attention to myself but enough to be in touching distance. I glanced up at him, making sure he was totally unaware and focused on his drink before I reached out slowly, letting my soft fingertips glide over the rough denim of his jeans. I glanced up at him when I heard him inhale his drink, spluttering slightly as I squeezed the inside of his thigh. I traced the length of his inseam, watching his grip on his glass tighten, the tanned skin over his knuckles paling.

“You ok there?” I asked, feigning concern with a quirk of a brow.

“Oh I'm just peachy sweetheart,” his voice came out low, lower than I think he was expecting it to as his eyes nervously darted to Sam who was too busy opening his laptop to notice. Dean leant back on the bench, the worn leather creaking under his weight. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, pausing for a moment before lifting his arm closest to me, as though inviting me to sit closer. Eager to oblige I scooted towards him, nibbling my bottom lip when I felt his large hand rest softly on my back, subconsciously pulling me in. I crossed one leg over the other, turning into him slightly, tilting my head to get a better look at his face.

“I think I left something in the car, would you mind coming with me whilst I grab it?”

He looked a little puzzled for a moment before shotting the last of his whiskey and nodding his head.

“Sure thing,” he turned to his brother, “hey Sammy, we’ll be back in a few.”

Sam grunted a reply, too lost in the article he was reading to pay much attention to us. Dean slid out of the booth and held his hand out to me, which I grasped. His long rough fingers enveloped my hand as he pulled me to my feet. Leaving his jacket behind, we left the bar and made our way to the impala.

The night air had turned chilly, biting at my flushed cheeks as we paced across the lot, taking all of about thirty seconds to reach the impala. Dean was a few steps ahead of me, having unlocked the rear passenger door by the time I'd arrived.

“There you are, grab what you ne- whoa!”

He was caught off guard when I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him down into the car, his broad form filling the space in the back with ease. I climbed in after him, closing the door and crawling along the back bench towards him. It took a moment, but Dean eventually caught on.

“Oh, I’m liking where this is going.”

I chewed at my bottom lip, watching him settle beneath me as he propped up slightly on his elbows, the fabric of his T-shirt stretching thin over his muscular chest.

“I wanted to thank you for being my hero. That’s the second time you’ve rescued me - I wanted to thank you properly. You know, to really show my appreciation.”

It was Deans turn to pull his bottom lip between his teeth, the corners of his plush lips turning up.

“You know, I’m starting to think you might be trouble,” his voice was getting lower with every word, each syllable rumbling in his chest and vibrating into my fingertips.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, feeling some truth to them as I scooted down the bench to sit between his legs before slipping into the large footwell. I patted the seat in front of me, and it didn’t even take a second for Dean to slide himself into it, sitting up straight. As I sat between his knees and looked up at him, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sight; the way the streetlights painted his face in warm amber, softening his battle-hardened features and reflecting in his eyes like dancing embers from a stoked fire. The shadows didn’t seem contradictory - the darkness we were sitting in was far from cold. Dean Winchester was not an artistic man by any means, but he himself was certainly a masterpiece.

I reached up and unbuckled his belt along with the button on his jeans, carefully dragging the zipper down after and tugging the thick fabric along with his boxers off his hips; just enough to dip my hand in and pull out his cock, already hot and heavy in my palm. He made an almost strained noise on contact and my stomach fluttered at the thought of him being so sensitive. So sensitive at my mercy. I adjusted my grip on him before going up and down, once… twice… three times… over and over at a sinfully slow pace. His hands gripped his thighs like they had nowhere else to go, and when I looked up he was watching every move I was making with knotted brows and parted lips. His eyes only found mine when I straightened my back and leant forwards, gliding my tongue up the thick length of him but avoiding the tip. Mimicking my hand, I licked up and down again and again, ever so slowly gaining speed before I finally dragged my tongue over his tip and plunged his whole cock down my throat.

“Oh fuck,” Dean gasped out, his large palms flying to my hair - long fingers knotting with the soft strands. I could tell he wanted nothing more than to shove my head down as far as it would go, but his self restraint shone through. I started to move, slowly at first, head bobbing without missing a beat. The feeling of his cock pressing against the back of my throat over and over was fine at first, but the longer I sucked him off the urge to gag grew. The size of Deans cock was not something to be taken lightly, and after a couple of minutes the impending gag hit and I pulled him out of my mouth.

“Shit, (Y/n)… How are you so good at this?” He hissed out in a breath I’m sure he’d been holding since I'd started. I assumed the question was rhetorical as I gave him a few pumps, swallowing the excess spit and precum on my tongue before leaning back in. One by one I placed hot, wet kisses up his length, placing the final one on his tip before I pulled it back into my mouth. With the new found sensitivity of my gag reflex ever-present, I avoided taking him too far down my throat, this time using one hand to reach where my mouth couldn't at his base. Adding a little twist, I felt his grip tighten once again in my hair, his long fingers absently scooping loose strands away from my face. The combination of feeling him lose his mind beneath me and the tenderness of his touch sent a flutter to my heart which quickly travelled south at the sound of his euphoric groan, his head lolling back and eyes closing. As I pressed my tongue to the large vein scaling his length I could feel his rapid pulse, my own heart rate almost as fast as his. As I continued to bob my head, I could feel him gather all my hair in one hand, his other softy tracing down over my temple, my cheek and my lips before stopping at my chin, a single swipe from his thumb removing most if the spit and precum that was threatening to stream down my neck. I would consider my next move a grave mistake - looking up through my damp lashes to meet Deans white-hot gaze fixated and fascinated with every little motion I made. The blissed-out look in his eyes could have turned a weaker woman into a puddle right then and there, and I surprised myself with my own resilience. He continued to hold me with one hand in my hair and a soft grip on my chin, my own free hand moving to grip him near the inside of his thigh. Another soft moan slipped from his lips as I started to speed up, not caring for the ache in my jaw or mess he was now too preoccupied to swipe away. I was surprised when no words left Deans lips, his usual blasphemous language replaced with velvety moans of pleasure. I could tell he was nearing his peak when his cock twitched between my lips, again and again before before he finally groaned out a strained:

“Fuck, oh shit.”

His grip tightened, like he was trying to pull me off him, however when that telltale throb made his cock graze the back of my throat I removed my hand from his base and enveloped him in his entirety, a final, breathy gasp and groan tumbling from Deans lips before the sensation of warm, viscous liquid spilled across the back of my tongue. It took a moment for the ropes to stop coming, and when they did I pulled him from my mouth slowly, looking up at his breathless form. Not taking my eyes from his, I parted my lips slightly to show his cum, glazing my tongue, before closing my mouth and swallowing the thick liquid down. He let out another groan, his grip finally releasing my hair as he ran his hands over his face, taking a moment for his eyes to find mine again.

“Holy shit, sweetheart… I feel like I just died and went to heaven.”

I couldn't stop the stupid giggle spilling from my lips as I wiped the spit from my lips and chin with the bottom of Deans shirt that I was wearing.

“For a moment there I thought you had too.”

He grinned down at me, perhaps a little bashful as he tucked himself back into his pants and refastened his belt. As he finished up, a few moments of silence hung over us as I still remained nestled between his strong thighs. His eyes met mine and they seemed to hold a thousand words that he wanted to say, and when nothing came from his lips he simply held out his hand to pull me into his lap. Just as my fingers grazed his, however, there was a loud rap at the window which spooked both of us out of our skin.

“Motherfucker,” Dean muttered before rolling down the window, and a small wave of guilt and embarrassment washed over me when I heard Sam's disbelieving yet humoured voice coming from outside.

“Guys are you fucking serious?!”

——————————————————————

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yesimilkdamilkman · 5 months

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⋆.˚ ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝟏𝟒𝟏 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐡𝐲𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫... {𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑}

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞; Render credits: @ave661 Part 3, is finally here!! Different format this time :33 Yes, I know its been a very long time. 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠.

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; hybrid bunny! reader taking care of big meaty men, while they're sick.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; Everybody is sick or gets sick, cough cough. heavy simon x reader and price x reader this time.

04.14.24 | 𝟕𝟏𝟓 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

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Taking temperatures, making tea, switching sheets, running baths, heading to the forest for fruits, herbs, and honey. That was the last 2 days for you, everyone came back from a mission, and they were feeling alright at first. But then it hit them, starting with Soap, then Gaz, Price, and finally Simon.

Gaz was constantly throwing up, giving you no more than an hour before you had to change his sheets again. Simon was mostly asleep, but he had a fever and a dry throat. Soap was the first to have a fever before it hit everyone else, Price was right along with Simon, dead asleep; which Price reminded you of the bears once winter came. The tea that they had, was good somewhat healthy for them, you made some enough to tie them over while you ventured out to the wildness,

You plucked berries off the bushes, collecting raw honey from bee hives. It brought you a sense of nostalgia, your life before you were hit by that car. But no time to think about the past, you have sick friends at home who are counting on you.

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Getting back not too long after your departure there was a loud thump as you stepped in through the back door. Quickly dropping the basket, and rushing up the stairs, to find the source. You peeked in everyone's room, you finally made it to Price's room, he was fine for the most part. But his lamp was on the floor along with a few cigars..

"Ah, luv be a doll an- *cough* and me a cigar will ya?" Price dared to ask you for a cigar while he was sick, and he knew how you felt about them; as they weren't good for him or the environment in any way. You let out a loud huff, large ears dropping a bit before you grabbed them.

Price's face started to light, thinking you would give him one. But much to his dismay up picked them up and walked right past him, opening up his window and chucking them out. Price for once was dumbfounded by your behavior, opened up his mouth to question your actions but was interrupted by a coughing fit. You quickly left the room, and brought back some water, to tie him over once more until you could make the tea.

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You've made everyone tea, even though when it came to giving it to Gaz, he was a little hesitant that you got it from the forest. You really don't see the problem, if it's from the forest; that's been untouched by man, then it's healthier the fruits they buy at the store.

Simon did scare the shit out of you, coming out of his room while you were half asleep, making more tea for Soap. He was just standing in the entrance of of the room, watching and could feel his gaze shooting daggers into your back.

You could hear the floor creak under him, as he approached you. Adding some of his body weight to you. calloused fingers running through your curls, his other hand wrapping around your waist and swaying your bodies together.

"Rest, you must." you say quietly, enjoying the moment you two were having. Only getting a grunt in response, as your bodies continue to sway with one another.

You could see his finger slowly reaching for something in your peripheral, you slapped Simon's hand away, realizing he was trying to stick his finger in the tea. Quickly slapping his hand away, you ask "What's wrong? Cough, dry throat, headache, fever?" you began naming things off the top of your head.

"Headache," He said almost immediately. You moved away from him, opened up the fridge, and grabbed some tea you had pre-made, just in case. Heating it up, and forcing Simon back to bed.

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As the week passed everyone got better and recovered, they were called back 2 weeks later and were gone for 3 days. and when they returned. Their bunny wasn't at the door trying to hug them all at once, but instead was found upstairs in Price's bed, wrapped in Simon's blanket, wearing Soap's socks, and wearing one of Gaz's gloves. With tissues everywhere, and a trash nearly full of throw up.

They got you sick.

Tagist : @h0ney-mushroom, @bangtandaze

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grimesgirll · 7 months

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"darlin', it's time to go to sleep."

you whine. "but i'm still up. i'm not tired yet," you insist as you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding softly. "don't you wanna go one more time?"

rick gives you a tired smile. "i'd love to sweetheart but i already made you cum three times tonight and you’re still beggin' like this. i think it's just gonna keep you up at this point."

you pout. “no! this is the last time! i promise!”

“well, if you promise,” rick accepts your swear with a kiss and slides his slate gray boxers down to line himself up with your already spent pussy. he pushes up your frilly baby blue fur trimmed nightie just above your hips. you’d found it in a department store and it had been driving him wild ever since.

he pulls you into him as the head of his dick glides through the first few inches of you. your cunt is soaked but only an inch or two more and he’s met with that tight, ring of muscle gripping his cock. your leader groans into your neck, pulling you flush against him until you’re squealing and both your hips are snug together.

“rick!”

“isn’t this what you wanted?”

“yes!” you gasp as he picks up the pace and moves in and out of you. “you feel so good.”

“you too, honey,” he grunts into your ear.

you lay back and watch the best you can in the dark as he thrusts in and out of your dripping pussy. his chocolate curls are accented bronze from the dim glow of the outside light from the window.

head against the satin pillow, your eyes are watering and you feel like you’re at your breaking point again. “feel so good, rick,” you manage as you tighten around him.

“shit, baby, happy i can help,” the sheriff huffs as he rearranges your guts.

“so, so good,” you’re babbling as the dam bursts. your legs are numb and you feel light headed enough to see spots but rick is there to bring you right back and fuck you through your orgasm.

“love when you do that, honey,” rick groans, running a hand through your long hair while the other finds your breast. you writhe under him as he plays around with your nipple and cupping your tit. “i know you wanna do it again before you fall asleep, right?”

you nod eagerly. “yes, sir.”

suddenly rick’s lips are on yours again and he’s tapping that spot. your legs start to shake again but you hold on as your leader’s mouth travels south to suck on your nipple.

you cry and hum praises at him through your fucked out haze but he just keeps his warm mouth and a hand on your chest. his free hand goes to your clit to rub tight circles just the way you like it. you gasp into his ear as he tightens his grip on you, dropping a tit to hold your hip and fuck further into you.

“rick, rick,” you stutter.

“feel so good, honey,” rick praises.

his hand finds your breast again and you’re holding onto him for dear life as you get your brains fucked out and every part of your body overstimulated.

it’s no surprise when you cum on his cock, leaving it drenched in the results of an orgasm some people would argue wasn’t real. his dick is slick with you, from the base to the tip as he continues his tirade against your poor pussy. you are surprised that he hasn’t come yet.

“rick…”

“yes, honey?”

“when are you going to sleep?” you ask, nearly dodging kisses on your breasts, your neck, and a tongue down your throat. if only you had the energy.

“when i’m done, honey.”

“can i help?”

rick presses a sweet kiss and a smirk to your shoulder. his sweet girl, always trying to take care of him even when she was so fucked out and on the verge of sleep.

“no, honey. you can go to sleep,” he assures you, pressing another kiss to your temple and slowing the roll of his hips.

“‘kay,” you exhale and settle into the pillow as rick pulls you against his chest, literally fucking you to sleep.

it wouldn’t take him long after you fell asleep to take care of himself and paint your insides white, calm and collected after treating himself to your snug cunt.

with you asleep, he stays in you for a little bit longer before pressing a few more kisses along your neck to ease the feeling of him pulling out of you. he pulls the blanket up the way you like and wraps his arms around you, prepared to have to fight you off in the morning when you inevitably woke up with your lady boner but he didn’t mind. who doesn’t want to start off their day getting their dick wet?

#the walking dead #rick grimes #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x reader #ricky dicky doo da grimes #rick grimes imagine #twd imagine #twd smut #rick grimes smut #not beta read #grimesgirll #soft somno #p in v sex

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harmonictechnicality · 2 years

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When Eddie finally gets into drinking hot teas, Steve loses his goddamn mind. Goes to the store, buys every flavor he can find. Makes a little tea buffet with samples galore on his kitchen island. Even puts little labels out so Eddie knows the name of each one he tries.

Eddie drinks every tiny cup (pretends he’s a fucking giant while doing it) that Steve sets out for him. Goes down the line just sipping and humming in thought/delight. Steve excitedly watches from the adjacent countertop the whole time.

Once Eddie is done, Steve approaches him, hugging Eddie from behind and asking, “Do you have a favorite?”

And Eddie, being a indecisive pain in the ass just says, “All of them. All of them are my favorite, babe. What are you gonna do about that?”

Steve is so unfazed by Eddie’s little challenges by now. Just gets a Costco membership, spends the next day buying tea in bulk.

Eddie comes home to towers of cardboard boxes, some are nearly touching the ceiling. Steve has sectioned off the kitchen with a red ribbon tied to each side of the doorframe.

He limbos under the ribbon, holding an oversized pair of scissors.

“Uh? Babe?” Eddie asks gently. Cause ya know… Steve is holding scissors and looking diabolical. “What’s all this?”

“You couldn’t pick a favorite so I bought every flavor available.” Steve says it easily, like this isn’t batshit wild.

“Okay…”

Steve hands Eddie the scissors. “I call it Eddie’s Ci-Tea…. Get it? Like city but... with tea?”

Damnit, it’s so adorable when Steve makes up shitty puns. Eddie has to cover his smushy face in kisses now (carefully though, cause goddamn motherfucking scissors ugh).

“You’re way too loveable, Steve Harrington.” Eddie gushes, cutting the ribbon. Mayor of their weird little relationship.

Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek and he smells like a fucking spice factory from hauling tea around all day. So fucking yummy, Eddie wants to stir him up with one of those ridiculous little spoons. Make a piping-hot cup of Steve Tea that only he gets to drink up.

And as Eddie examines all the boxes, reading over all the different varieties, he remembers this is still a challenge. A game that he started. And he can’t let Steve just win because he’s rich and pretty, right? That would be too easy.

Eddie goes out of his way to make unnecessary shit difficult cause it’s his evil little side hustle. Some people have hobbies, Eddie Munson has schemes.

So he turns around, facing Steve (who is blissfully happy still), and plants a big kiss on his stupidly pink lips.

“It’s great and all, Stevie, but…”

Steve frowns. “But?”

Eddie pouts, but still gives a devilish wink when he says it:

“You forgot the honey.”

Steve kicks one of the towers, makes it look like the cardboard-version of that famous building in Italy. He grabs his keys and his Costco membership card, and storms out the front door.

Eddie is still laughing as he hears Steve swearing in the driveway. He begins boiling a kettle of water to make some Oolong tea while thinking:

‘I’m gonna marry my snobby pretty boyfriend, and we’re gonna serve all this goddamn tea at our wedding reception.’

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #just a little scene I couldn’t get out of my head #they are both insufferable and i love them for it #need to keep writing my full length fic but y’all can have this in the meantime

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fairytsuk1 · 8 months

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mile high club | (smut)

pairing: alex quackity x reader

words: 1.9k

warnings: sexual content, surprise visit, riding, quickie, couch sex, mild femdom, mild sub!alex, unprotected sex, pre-established relationship

summary: "Sooo, What about Quackity dating someone who lives in a different country, and since both of them have been really busy they haven't seen each other in person in a couple months, so he decides to give his s/o a surprise visit?"

It was as normal of a day as ever. You’d woken up early and greeted Alex, who happily called you while you brushed your teeth and washed your face.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Good morning,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes, “what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know,” he avoids the question, “just getting on with the day. You have your little morning voice right now, so cute, you know.”

Your laugh rings prettily into the phone as Alex blatantly flirts with you. He still made you feel like a teenager, all giddy with excitement and want. Plus, you miss him. It feels like eons ago that he would pull you closer to his chest mornings like these, firm arms snug around your waist as he curled around you like a mama bear. Your heart ached at the thought, even just sharing breakfast or coffee felt special.

“Well, whatever! I just woke up and gotta start my morning routine. But seriously, what are you up to? It sounds kinda noisy?”

The mild hustle and bustle cuts through the phone's static. It’s too muffled to hear anything, and you’re too sleep-addled to decipher it, “it’s nothing, baby. I’m just at the store. It’s crowded today, but I need some groceries.”

“Oh, right, Target?”

Alex pauses, “Yeeeah. I gotta go, honey, but I’ll talk to you later!”

Something feels off, but you swallow your worries.

“Yeah, we’ll talk later! I love you.”

“Te quiero mucho.”

There’s a quick click and then silence. Usually, Alex was more carefree with his thoughts. He had no problem freely expressing himself to you; he even told you that you were someone who made him feel like he could. But maybe you’re just being an overly attached girlfriend! You’re just thinking too hard about this. It’s probably fine, right?

You brush your teeth hastily with vigor, and you make record-breaking time on your skincare routine. The faster you get your day started, the bigger head start you have against those anxious thoughts.

It was an extreme relief when you received sporadic texts from Alex.

[lex <3]: what’s up babe??

[lex <3]: I’m thinking of youu

[lex <3]: te quiero verte pronto <3

It made your heart race and make you want to look bashful and hide underneath your lashes because he was so charming. You eagerly reply to him with a plentiful amount of hearts and kisses. Just knowing he was thinking of you made you feel good. It uplifted your day as you flicked on mascara and tied up your New Balances.

Things were average that day. The loud ringing doorbell broke you out of your TV rewatching reverie. You’re expecting some religious fanatics; damn, they could be so annoying. No packages you ordered that you knew of, no plans left forgotten, who could it be—

You’re absolutely taken aback. The breath in your lungs seemingly dissipates into the air, condensing into invisible wispy strands. What’s this? Alex stands before you with a bright smile. His jacket is black and puffy, and he’s got his striped beanie that turns beautiful wild locks of hair into a shape resembling an egg. It’s your boyfriend. He’s suddenly materialized on your doorstep with rolling luggage and smooth words, “Are you gonna invite me in?”

“Alex! Oh my god,” you fly into his arms, darting into them like the floor was a springboard, “this isn’t real. How are you here? This is insane!”

“I flew here; I had to see you,” he says earnestly, “I’m so fucking glad to see you.”

“I’m glad to see you, Lex!”

The two of you are locked in a cozy embrace. Your arms cradle Alex's head like he’s a baby, your baby, as you pepper soft, freckled skin with kisses. He tries to tell you to stop and tries to squirm away, but you aren’t letting go now that he’s here in your hands.

"You totally lied about the grocery store!"

"Come onn, I couldn't give away the surprise!"

Alex holds you by your waist and takes deep inhales in your neck. Something about your scent and knowing that you’re there in his arms makes him feel high. That makes him feel more than elated, indeed in a near-delirious state of love.

Both of you adjust to him being back. His luggage is left haphazardly in the bedroom while he kicks his shoes off to get comfortable. You can’t help but hang off of him and touch every single part of him as if this is a dream that could not be possible. He preens, feeling your hand smooth down the expanse of his back, covered with a fit Planet Duck t-shirt that made him look so delectable.

You were always attracted to Alex; there was no question about that. However, the combination of not having seen him for long, along with his freshly cut hair, was doing things to you. The experience of being in his space was sending your pussy into overdrive. Even the first shared kiss the two of you have leaves you wanting more as your clit quivers. Alex seems like none the wiser to your needs as the two of you settle down together.

“What do you wanna order, pizza?”

“Whatever you want, handsome,” and your nails scratch at his forearm just to feel his goosebumps prickle up.

“Handsome? Why thank you,” he smirked, giving you an Eskimo kiss. “Are you sure you don’t have a craving for anything?”

“I think… the only craving I have is you.”

“Wow, you must really want me to be begging like this,” he teases, bringing his face so close that his breath hits your lips, “what do you want?”

“I want my boyfriend, who I haven’t seen in months, to fuck the shit out of me. Think that can be arranged?”

“Absolutely,” Alex brings you into a kiss.

His hands weave into the hair at the back of your neck. When he brings you closer, the tension of the pull makes your jaw drop in a gasp. Alex takes advantage of your blatant thirst through your lips by slipping a slick tongue to toy with yours. He tastes like mints, and you fist your hand in his jacket with a crinkle. Both of you sway, shifting first to lean back before you press your lips against him harder and swing a leg over his wide legs.

It feels sweltering when the two of you pull away with panting breaths. You’re perched high in Alex's lap, and his hands possessively hold the curve of your ass. His lips are pink if slightly bitten, as they swell. You’re sure yours aren’t any better, but it hurts in the best way when you rejoin your lips together for another kiss.

“Extrañe tanto tu cuerpo, quiero comérmelo,” he rasps and rolls you further into his chest, further against his hardening cock.

His words leave you shivering as you roll your hips against him again.

“Wanna ride you first, I’ve missed your cock filling me up sooo much.”

Alex blushes at hearing your praise. Your hands caress his shoulders soothingly as he relaxes more on the couch, “I think about you all the time. Fisting my cock pretending it’s your pussy, fuckk, but it’s never the same.”

“My fingers never do it like yours do,” his sweatpants are expertly undone and tugged down.

“Oh, I know. I always make you feel good,” his hips lift as you lower his boxers to reveal the tan skin of his thick cock.

Your mouth instantly waters at the sight of him. His head is dark and weeping with pre-cum as it twitches in the cool air. Spitting on your hand, eye contact is captivating as you begin to work your hand up and down his cock. Your wrists twist, and Alex lets out a high-pitched moan, hand digging into the plush cushion of the couch. He only whines sweeter and pants heavier as your slick up his dick, working him up till he feels his balls churning with the need to release.

Alex whines when you let go, hands pawing at your waist to align your dripping hole with the head of his cock. His mouth is fast to latch onto your nipples or to lightly nibble at the soft skin of his tummy.

“Be patient,” you lightly chide.

“Can’t, need you too bad,” he moans as delicate fingers touch his cock, “I wanted to surprise you, so now you treat me.”

“What a demanding boy.”

“Ah! Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuck,” your soaked pussy sinks down on his fat cock.

He’s not impossible to take, but the stretch still makes your stomach quiver after such a long time. It’s welcoming, though. Your pussy is carved to take Alex, to be fucked relentlessly by him as he makes your tongue loll out your mouth.

“God, fuck! I missed this so much, Lex,” your eyes are teary as you wetly rise and lower yourself on his dick, “making me feel so full.”

“You’re amazing, riding me so well. Hah, ah, you always make me feel good!”

You’re preening and crawling closer with faster hips as Alex wails for you. There are lewd smacking sounds that reverberate through the room as you fuck yourself on his dick. Things heated up so fast that everything felt as though the intensity of your fucking had been turned up to eleven.

His cock curves in your gummy walls. Every downstroke leads to the tip pressing against the spongy spot inside you; it makes your hips seize desperately as you pound yourself against Alex. He’s moved to lightly jerking his hips, mouth suckling on your tits and leaving gentle marks on your back. His nails are blunt, but the sting makes the coils inside you grow tighter and tighter with tension.

You feel so wet, wet, wet. Your walls are squeezing Alex, desperate for every single drop of release, and his orgasm is about to slap him in the face, “I-I’m getting close, oh shit. Babe, fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum inside me, Lex. I wanna feel it, breed me,” it comes out in a whine as you grow closer and closer to your peak, “gonna cum all over this cock, papi. Fuckkk, you own this pussy! Oh, oh!”

Alex cums first. His hot ropes fill you like warm lava, filling your pussy to the brim with his seed as he groans out from under you. He was at your mercy as you milked him through your orgasm, milky walls squeezing his dick for all it’s worth. Your thighs ache in the best way as you sink into his lap.

His cum leaks out of you lewdly around his softening cock. Both your eyes meet as you regain your breath. He looks a mess, and you know you do two as your sweaty bodies rest against each other. A flicker of fondness turns into a full-blown flame, “I-I love you. I missed you so much.”

“I love and miss you too, a ton,” he whispers, “and I’m glad I came to surprise you.”

You smile at him with watery eyes, “Yeah, me too.”

#quackity imagine #quackity scenario #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #quackity x you #quackity fanfic #quackity smut #quackity thirst

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