summary: steve helps you wind down after a bad day with a massage. and a little more.
warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, fingers in mouth, cursing, fingering, a little softdom!steve, massage leading into sex, creampie ofc, lots of pet names, i think that’s it
word count: 3.2k
You had been a ball of nerves since the sun rose this morning.
The shrill sound of your alarm clock had awoken something deep inside you, effectively kickstarting the day on a bad note before you even had breakfast.
You’d woken up cold and alone, Steve having left for his day an hour earlier. You managed to burn your breakfast burrito over the stove. The pants you planned to wear sat in the dryer and shrunk three sizes overnight.
When you actually made it to work at the library, your downward mood had turned completely sour. You had to deal with two of your coworkers calling out and were graciously given the task of taking care three overfilled carts of put back books.
Whether it was every small thing to go wrong or the bad mood you simply woke up in, every awful emotion you were dealing with felt heightened.
By the time you made it home, your head throbbed, your feet were sore and tingly and your body just ached.
You slammed the door shut behind you, haphazardly flicking the lock in place. You toss your keys into the small dish on the end table next to you and kick your shoes off.
Steve’s keys are already on top of the wood, his shoes neatly placed in the designated spot – you can’t even bother to care where yours have flung off to.
Your mouth is pulled into a tight frown. The crease between your brows is back and contributing to your headache. Your shoulders are tense and all you want is to lay down.
Steve appears around the corner, a lazy smile already on his face. It’s hard not to reciprocate it and you want to but the bad day keeps its hooks in you.
“Hey beautiful,” He says, walking close to wrap his arms around you.
His voice does actually loosen the tightness in your chest and it’s so easy to melt into his arms. Your body is still a little tense even as you lean into him.
You feel his lips press against the skin of your forehead.
“Hi,” You murmur.
Steve picks up on the exhaustion in your tone and carefully peers down at you. Both of his palms end up on your arms, lazily stroking the skin.
“What’s the matter, baby? Bad day?”
You hum in lieu of response. He gives you a sympathetic smile.
“I’m sorry, honey,” He raises one hand to push back some loose hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His thumb continues for stroke your hair. “Anything I can do to fix it?”
You shake your head, your brows pulled tighter together.
“No, I’ll be fine,” You assure him but neither of you believe it. You push up on the tips of your toes to peck his lips. “I’m just gonna shower and go to bed,”
Concern swirls in his beautiful brown eyes, and his lips part like he wants to say something but he keeps it to himself. He nods gently. “Okay baby,”
Without another response, you take off towards your shared room and straight to the bathroom.
Your movements are sluggish as you turn the water on and undress for the shower. It’s the same even as you step inside the tub. You take a few minutes to let the warm water wash over your skin, hopeful that it’ll help ease the aching.
It doesn’t.
Lathering your body wash, you try to wash away the bad day and let it swirl down the drain. You forego washing your hair tonight, too lazy to deal with it.
You’re not sure how long you spent in there but when you finish, you wrap the fluffy white towel around your body and head for the bedroom to change.
Steve isn’t in the room when you walk out but he set a record on the player, a soft and low Air Supply album filling the air. He left the overhead light off and opted for the small lamp on his bed side table, and even lit a few candles around the room. It leaves the room in warm orange light.
It’s comforting.
The tension has significantly loosened since you came home but it’s still not enough.
With the towel still wrapped around your body, you begin to gather your clothes from the dresser and grab the lotion from your vanity. You’re standing in front of the large mirror attached to your dresser, your back turned to the door, when Steve walks back in.
His eyes catch yours through the mirror immediately and in a few short strides, he’s pressed against you. His arms wrap around your waist, hugging you tight and against his chest.
He buries his face in your neck, inhaling the scent of your vanilla body wash. He hums in contentment against your skin and you let him.
The weight of his warm body offers you some relief. You’re about to lather your skin with lotion when his hands leave your waist and grab the bottle from you.
“Let me do it,” Steve murmurs in your ear. Your knees feel like jelly and you’re nodding in agreement before you can even comprehend it.
He plants a chaste kiss to your cheek before gripping the lotion in one hand and placing the other on the small of your back, slowly guiding you towards the bed.
You follow his lead implicitly.
You sit at the edge of the bed, expecting him to kneel in front of you but instead he places the bottle on the bed and easily hauls you into his arms. Your breath catches as he carries you to the center of the bed, hovering beside you.
You stare up at him with wide eyes, your towel covered back pressed against the duvet. He gently tugs on the knot of the towel until it comes loose.
You shiver when the cool air meets your bare body. Even years later, you still feel a little self conscious around him. You know you shouldn’t, especially when Steve bends down, planting warm and open mouthed kisses along your collarbone.
“You’re so pretty baby,” He whispers against your skin. Goosebumps arise across your body and you can feel him smile. He leans back up and pecks your lips. “Turn on your stomach,”
You swallow, completely unsure of where he’s going with this but you listen. You shift over the bed until your stomach is pressed into the mattress and Steve easily removes the towel from beneath you. Your cheek presses against the cooled silk pillowcase.
Steve shifts around until he straddles the back of your thighs and you hear the lotion squirting from the bottle and land in his hands.
His warm hands covered in lotion press against your back and he uses gentle strength to rub the liquid into your skin. A sigh of relief escapes you almost immediately and your body melts into the mattress.
He let out a soft sound of acknowledgment, the pads of his fingers knead into the knotted skin of your shoulders, carefully working out the tension.
“I’m sorry you had such a bad day today, sweet girl,” Steve’s voice rings in your ears. “I’m gonna make it better, yeah? Want me to make it better?”
You hum absentmindedly, already lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He chuckles quietly behind you and continues working over your skin.
His hands travel from your shoulders, down the sides of your ribs and over the small of your back. His thumbs press into the skin there, gliding upwards to release the tightness there.
A soft moan slips past your lips and Steve presses his mouth to the middle of your back, kissing a line upwards until he reaches the back of your neck.
“Does that feel good, baby?” He coaxed softly.
“Mhm..” You nod against the pillow. His hands continue to trail across your skin until both of his large hands land on your hips and he gently twists you until your shift onto your back.
Your eyes peel open as his palms slide down to your thighs and he pulls them apart to wrap around his waist. He looks down at you with such a soft smile and even softer eyes, it’s so easy to forget why you were upset in the first place.
He lathers more lotion in his palms, rubbing it together and brings his hands back to your skin – this time he lands on your stomach. You inhale a shaky breath as he works the lotion into your skin again, slowly and steadily.
His eyes flick up to meet yours at the sound and he gives you another gentle smile.
“Relax,” He murmurs. “Just let yourself feel it,”
You nod up at him, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you will your body to relax against the sheets. As comforting as his touch is, you can feel your nerves begin to simmer with something else the more he touches you.
Your eyes stay on him while his stay on your body.
He’s careful and intentional with everywhere his hands glide across your skin. He kneads into the tight spots of your sides, and gently strokes circles into the tips of your thighs. He thumbs into your hips and rubs the pads of his fingers into your stomach.
It’s perfect.
When all the lotion is completely soaked into your skin, Steve leans over you, his chest pressed to yours and hovers his mouth above yours.
You fight the instinct to rise up and slam your mouth against his. Your breath comes out in short puffs as his fingers dance across the skin of your thighs.
He lazily glides his lips across yours, still not kissing but enough to drive you crazy. Your skin buzzes where his fingers slide up to your inner thigh.
“You feel better baby?” He whispers, but doesn’t let you answer before he speaks again. “Or do you need more?”
You nod immediately. “I want – I want more, please.” Your voice is a desperate whine and you don’t even care.
He smirks above you and finally presses his mouth into yours.
You sigh in relief against his lips. The kiss is slow but feverish, Steve is purposeful with every move of his mouth against yours. His hand trailing up your thighs lands exactly where you need them.
He swipes two fingers through your slit, gathering the wetness already pooled there. The pads of his fingers, now soaked wet with your slick, press against your clit and make you moan against his mouth.
He rubs deliberate circles into your swollen bud and without hesitation, you kiss him harder. Your breathing goes erratic and your hand raises to grab the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the nape of his hair.
Your lips part and Steve is quick to slip his tongue into your mouth, sliding his against yours.
With all of your attention on his mouth, he slips his slender finger inside you, lazily pumping in and out. Your brows pull together tight as he swallows every moan into his mouth again.
He pulls away from your mouth and trails his lips to your jaw and down your neck. When his lips meet that perfect spot beneath your jaw, he sucks hard, teeth nipping at your skin. At the same time, he slides another finger into your warm heat and your back arches into his chest, a breathless whine escaping your throat.
“Oh Steve,” You cry out, your fingers fisting the sheets beneath you.
His fingers pump in and out of you at a steady pace and he carefully curls them upwards. The sound of his fingers sliding through your slick fills the room and you’re both drunk of the sound.
“Fuck you feel so good baby,” He breathes. Steve leans up on his knees to look at you.
Your eyes are fluttered shut, your head turned to bury your face into the pillow. Your lips are parted, pretty little cries slipping past them. You have one hand holding onto his tightly, fingers interlocked and the other has a fistful of blanket.
Steve watches the way your stomach tightens, the muscles beneath your skin contracting with every plunge of his fingers inside you. Your chest heaves every time the tips of his fingers brush against that spongey spot inside you.
He keeps his eyes trained on you and he groans at the way your pussy sucks his fingers in, completely soaking him in your wetness.
“That’s it baby, keep squeezing my fingers.” He huffs out. He thrusts his fingers faster, splatters of your slick flying through the air and onto his clothes. His entire hand and wrist is covered in you and he doesn’t care for a second.
Your body withers against him and he raises the hand still interlocked with yours to press into your lower stomach, keeping you firm against the bed.
“Fuck Steve!” You cry out, thighs tightening around his waist. “I’m gonna – I’m gonna c-cum,”
He leans over you again, slamming his mouth against yours. This kiss is fast and desperate. His teeth bite into your bottom lip, forcing them apart so his tongue can lick into your mouth.
His fingers move faster, relentlessly, as he coaxes your orgasm from you. Your body feels like it’s on fire, and all that’s left is him.
“Come on then,” He demands. “Cum all over my fingers baby, give it to me,”
His words are the catalyst you need. Your back arches into his chest, thighs convulsing around his waist as the dam finally breaks. Your breath gets stuck in your throat as he works you through your high, carefully slowing his movements.
Your ears ring but you can just barely make out his soft voice murmuring sweet praises to you. You can feel his lips glide across the skin of your cheek and over your face.
When your breathing returns to normal, your eyes flutter open to look at him. He has one hand brushing through your hair, his thumb stroking the skin of your temple. He’s already looking down at you, his eyes dancing across your face.
He barely has a chance to say anything before your shaky hands are reaching for his jeans, tugging at the button and zipper.
He chuckles heartedly and reaches between you two to grab your hands.
“You still want more?” He teases. You want to glare at him and his teasing but you’re desperate.
Your eyes go glassy and even wider for him – his number one weakness. You can see his teasing nature disappear at the sight of you so pliant beneath him.
“It’s just so much, Steve,” You whimper, forcing your lip to wobble. “I need you so bad,”
He grunts above you and his lips land over yours again. You can’t hide the smirk that covers your mouth.
He’s too easy.
His hands fumble with the zipper of his jeans while you push him off just enough to pull his shirt over his head. He’s occupied with his pants and you take the time to glide your palms across the skin of his broad shoulders. Your nails rake across him and down the skin of his chest, gliding over the muscles in his stomach.
Your eyes sweep across his bare body. His tanned skin littered with those moles you count as he sleeps. The few scars he has from playing sports growing up. He was so gorgeous, and he was all yours.
Finally, Steve kicks his jeans and boxers to the floor, leaving him just as bare to you as you were to him. Your hand cups around the back of his neck and you pull him down to meet your lips again.
It’s messy and uncoordinated but then his hand slips between you two, gripping himself in his palm and you feel the tip of his cock slide through your soaked folds. You both let out a shared moan at the first feeling of real contact together and he lazily slides against your pussy.
“Please baby,” You beg and it’s enough for him to finally slide home.
The feeling of Steve stretching you out is intense, pulling a whine from your chest. His arms collapse beneath him and he presses his chest against yours.
“Oh fuck, you’re so tight baby,” He whines into your skin. Your arms wrap around his back, holding him to your chest tight.
Steve starts his pace immediately, deep and dizzying. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, thighs tightening around his hips and pulling him deeper inside you.
“St-Steve!” Your voice is a broken cry out.
He moans over you and gathers his strength to pull himself up to look down at you. His eyes catch the sight of where your pussy clenches around him, a white creamy ring forming at the base of his cock.
He groans at the sight, pushing even harder. Your body bounces beneath him with each unforgiving thrust. Your mouth is hung open and Steve takes the opportunity to slip his index and middle finger inside. Instinctively, your lips close around his fingers and you open your eyes to look at him when you suck.
Warm spit pools around around his fingers and slips past the corners of your mouth. He moans at the feeling of your wet mouth and soaking pussy covering him.
“God, you’re s’perfect. Like you were made for me, weren’t you, baby?”
You nod, brows scrunched tight and mouth full. He huffs a laugh out.
“Yeah, you are.” He groans, keeping his pace steady and relentless. “This is all you needed to feel better, huh? Needed me to fuck out the bad day,”
You whine around his fingers when the tip of his cock begins to kiss your cervix. Your thighs tighten and shake around his hips, your pussy spasming around him.
Steve groans when he feels it and he can tell you’re close, just like he is.
“Come on baby, give me another one.” His breathing is frantic and uneven. Sweat beads across his skin and his loose curl hands over his forehead. “Let me feel this pussy come all over me,”
Your second orgasm comes with hardly any warning as soon as the words leave his lips. Your mouth slips his fingers out and your body shakes as your pussy squeezes around his cock. Your lips are parted in silent moans, your entire body locked.
Steve moans at the feeling of you soaking him and with a few more thrusts, he collapses back over you, his mouth slanted into yours as you feel his cock twitch inside you until warm ropes of cum spill inside you.
You’re both whining messes against each other as you ride out your orgasms.
Even though you feel sticky and warm, your body finally feels completely relaxed as you melt into the mattress.
After a few moments, Steve pushes himself up and gently kisses the skin of your face. He carefully pulls out, wincing at the sensitivity before cleaning you both up.
Your hearing slowly returns to normal, no longer clouded by the rush of blood in them, and you can hear the static of the finished record across the room.
Steve quickly shuts it off, blows out the candles around the room and gathers clothes for the both you before returning back to you. He helps you dress before dressing himself and climbing into bed beside you.
Your body is a limp mess when he gathers you in his big arms, pulling you into his chest. Your ear presses against his skin, listening to the beating of his heart.
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Can u make a fanfic with Joe and the reader is a virgin and they just got marriage and at the after party Joe is whispering dirty stuff into her ear and it turns into smut
The one and only
joe keery x virgin!female!reader
summary — the wedding bells went off and the kiss finalized your bond, and joe couldn’t wait to finally have you alone and take care of you for the first time.
warnings — 18+, MDNI, smut, little fluff, wedding, dirty talk, praising, tied down (m receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, reader is freaky, reader’s first time, riding, missionary, multiple orgasm, cum eating, after care. tell me if I missed something, English is not my first language, possible grammatical mistakes, not proofread
author’s note — part 2 of ‘Happily ever after’ ! OR could be read as a stand alone!
ask me anything & requests currently closed !!!
masterlist | taglist
It had been more than 10 months since Joe went on one knee on stage and asked for your hand and with that a forever with you.
You two had been crazy deep into wedding planning, trying to make the night not just memorable for you but also for your loved ones.
And here were you standing in your dream wedding dress, that made you feel like a princess and made your curves look extremely good. Under them your little secret, your special underwear. Because you knew it was time, it was soon.
You knew tonight was the time you will give every part of you to Joe, and only him, forever.
You couldn’t believe that this was your life, and that soon you will be Mrs. Keery.
The ceremony it was everything you could have dreamed of since you were a little kid. Your hair in perfect place, your dress making you feel like you won the lottery with the flowers in your hand. All your loved ones there, saving one for the ones in heaven. And you walking down the aisle trying not to tear up to not ruin your makeup.
Seeing Joe standing there, smiling at you while breaking down, seeing you walk up to him and choosing him to be yours.
The ceremony began and both of you with your poetic and writing sides had 5 minutes if not longer vows each.
As both of you said out the happy “I do” and the priest pronounced you wife and husband, trying you together, the first person to say it out loud, Joe grabbed you before the priest could tell him to kiss the bride, his hands landing on your waist and pulling you up to him, linking your lips together, bending both of you a little down, your hand flying up to his neck, laughing into his kiss.
It was finalized, you two were married, the one and only for each other from now on.
As the crowd cheered and congratulated, Joe pulled away from the kiss, his smile painted all over his face and reached for your hand to interlink them, turning to the crowd. He just flew your hands into the air and shouted “We’re married.”
Acting like no one was there when it happened, because for him no one was, just you, all he could focus on was you. His wife. He was your husband. And he was sure he won in life and he was in heaven being able to say those words out.
He slowly walked down to the aisle you came in and ran through it, holding you, passing by the loved ones and leaving the room as people started following you two.
The venues dance floor was filled with your families and friends, them dancing around with drinks in their hands. The other half of them were just sitting at their assigned tables talking to one another, your wedding bringing people together, them getting to know each other.
The place filled with lights, flashing mainly the dance stage, the dj being Joe’s friends, the mates from Post Animal, together celebrating their friends happiness and dancing around together behind the stage.
The music filled the air, and made it soft, everyone already had the main dinner so they are either drinking or having snacks right now.
You and Joe tied to each other’s sides, maybe even too much as Joe had been teasing you since you two sat down to your main table for the dinner, whispering in your ear occasionally.
“I never thought you could be even more beautiful, but seeing you in this wedding dress, makes things to me.” He whispered into your ear when the guests were just sitting at their table eating the food.
“What things?” You decided to tease back.
“Like I want to rip if off you like you are a gift I can unwrap.” Your cheeks flushed, his hot breath meeting your ears.
You two had never had sex, properly. Yeah maybe dry humped and made out all the time, touching each other, but you wanted to have him fully on your wedding night, and he respected it, and maybe even find it hot.
Over the dinner he just randomly shifted to you multiple times.
“All I can think about right now is making you feel soooo good, I’m gonna make you feel good right baby?” You couldn’t ignore the ache those words put in you, as you just nodded and kept eating.
When you two were on the dance floor he just leaned in close to your ears once again.
“Keep pressing to me like that and I will have to take you right here on the dance floor.”
Another one later.
“I can’t wait to have you scream my name.”
Another one.
“You look so sexy in that mini dress. I wanna rip it off you.” He said after you changed into a little less larger dress, still white, still very wedding.
After he got extremely drunk like almost everyone at the party—except the kids—he went full filthy.
“I’m gonna fuck you so well, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
“You are all mine tonight.”
And these comments continued repeating it all over again.
After the party went down, being the best night of yours and Joe’s life. You have already said goodbye to most people, Joe had already finished. He was standing behind you, him slightly tapping his leg, impatiently and waiting, waiting for you.
You were still caught up with your best friend group from high school. Just drunk girls talking, after years of dreaming about those days.
Joe has been standing there for fifteen minutes, you had been saying goodbye and coming back for another story for the past five minutes.
Joe hasn’t been able to listen to any of the words that left any of the girl’s mouths. He was just checking out you all the way from behind, wanting to already have his hands on you. The only words he caught up was when any of you said the word “goodbye” or “goodnight” just to get back then to another story because one of them forgot to tell you guys something.
He has been getting an erection since he started whispering those filthy words in your ear and bow you were fucking making him wait. Maybe it was the alcohol or the boner he had in his pants that made him lose it.
All you felt is him suddenly turning you in insane speed.
“Wha-“ suddenly he picked you up and put over his shoulder, your hands tapping on his back as he is holding you by your ass.
Your friends started cheering and laughing.
“It was a fun night, we are all thrilled that you guys came but it’s time for us to head back, have some more drinks it want to. Have a goodnight girls.”
“Yeah, you two have a good fucking night too.” One of your friends commented, with a tone over the word fucking. They all laughed and you were just just yelling back
“Sorry! Goodnight I love you all sooo much!” You yelled.
Joe disappeared from everyone with you over his shoulder, finally getting into the hotels room, the biggest one, the suite for you two as a fresh married couple.
“You can put me down now.” You added after he closed the door, and locked it.
“Just a sec baby, just a sec.” He ran to the bedroom and put you down to the bed.
You were sitting on the sheets, looking up at him as he put his hands on your chin to make you look up at him even more.
“My wife.” He repeated it, trying to believe it finally.
“My husband.” You smiled at him before he pulled you yo by your chin and jaw to meet your lips.
His lips sucked on your upper one, as you went for his lower lip. He started sucking them, so much the sound was covering the room. His hand traveled down your body, squeezing on your ass, tucking you closer to his body to press his erection down on you.
Your hand flew to his tie, starting to untie it.
“Joe-“ you pulled away from the kiss.
“What baby?”
“Can we use this?” You asked looking at his tie.
A smirk grew on his lips. “How do you want it?”
A small smirk, little shy one, occurred on your lips.
“I want to tie you, a-and suck you off.”
Joe’s face went pale before his cheeks went pink, not believing that you wanted to do that.
“Fuck, yes baby.” He pulled down his jacket, while your hand flew to his shirts buttons.
You were still shy, but the alcohol and the need for him after three years kicked in, like a fucking bomb you wanted to explode.
“I’m gonna lay down okey? Then you can do whatever you want with me.” He guided, lying down on the sheets. You were standing beside the bed, he was laying there, looking up at you, his shirt unbuttoned, his chest hair covering him and just waiting for you with the tie still in your hand.
You slowly climbed up to him, your boobs pressed even more together, giving him a perfect insight as you climbed on top of him.
“I don’t know what I’m doing—“ you furrowed your eyebrows, suddenly being awoke about it being your first time.
“It’s okey, just do whatever feels good, don’t hold yourself back.” He talked to you softly and gently.
You grabbed his hand slowly, wrapping the tie around it a couple times and knotting it.
“Is this okey?”
“More than okey.”
You smiled as you went to unzip your dress on the side, while locking eyes with him. He moved his tied hands above his head, flexing hus muscles.
You slowly pulled down your dress before lifting your hips to pull it down downwards. You were now left in a lacy bra and lacy pants with clipped thighs on. Joe swore he was gonna faint from the view.
You slowly leaned down to kiss his lips, then both sides of it while Joe just wanted to catch your lips between his. You moved to leave slight kisses on his jaw, down to his neck, grabbing into his shoulder to lean and kiss behind his ear.
“Fuck.” He gasped, pushing his hips up to meet your core, trying to get some friction.
You smiled beside his ear as you went down kissing his neck and that fucking strong vein that was on there. You always found it too hot not to suck on it right now. You sucked there a pretty too hard, leaving a mark there when you left the spot.
You slowly went down kissing all over his chest before getting to his happy trail and started undoing his pants.
As soon as you could you pulled them down with his Calvin Klein boxers, his dick slapping out to his stomach already covered in pre cum.
You slowly went and put your fingers over it, not even looking away from his cock, but you heard him whimper.
You wrapped your hands around them and started slowly stroking him, but never reaching his flushed tip, as you bent down to put kisses there too, just like you did all over his body.
“Baby…stop teasing—“
You suddenly started sucking on it as you stroked him faster, he went to grab into your hair, messing it apart.
“Just like that, suck on it baby.”
You kept sucking him and stroking but he was already losing it, thinking back to how many times he stroked off thinking about it.
Those thoughts and you working on him made him cum quickly in your mouth. “Swallow it.” He spoke up between moans, so you did what your husband asked you to do, and with a pop sound you left his tip. Looking at him.
He was a messy, and you were too but it was just the beginning. You went to untie him slowly, that was a mistake maybe…
Before you could register, he tugged on your waist and changed the position as his hands went to unclip your pretty white lacy bra, making you arch.
When he finally got ride off them, his hand grabbed into them, making you moan and your nipples instantly turning hard.
He went down, but his hands were too occupied with your breasts so he just used his teeth to pull down your underwear resting it over your thighs.
He licked up slowly from your entrance to your clit, before putting that into his mouth. Licking over the nerves and slowly suck on it.
You couldn’t help but moan as he started sucking your clit like he wanted to rip it off you. Your hand flew into his hair, his hand still pinching on your hard nipples.
He saw and felt the way your walks started clenching around air and moaned into you before pulling away.
“You taste like my forever.” But before you could answer he drove right back in and put his tongues up your walls and lick all around them inside you. After all, all the movements with sticking out his tongue mid performing had a reason. He was fucking good with his tongue as he pushed them inside you almost suffocating himself in your pussy, his nose fully pressed on your clit, making you shiver.
“Joe—fuck please, I’m-I’m cu—“ your words just made him lick faster inside you and push his face more into your pussy, pinching your nipples still.
You screamed as you fall apart over his tongue, your eyes rolling back.
When he was sure you had the orgasm rode out on his face he slowly pulled back and came up to your face, his chin was covered in your cum.
He kissed you, your lips still open trying to catch your breath and your orgasm making your brain fuzzy.
“My pretty girl.” His hand flew to tuck a hair from your face behind your ear. “Are you ready for me baby?” You could just nod as you were already wanting to suck him in.
His hand flew down to his dick, putting it on your entrance. Looking up at you, making sure you were okey. When you pulled him down for another kiss he finally pushed his tip in you making you gasp into his lips.
“It’s okey baby, breath for me, you are being so good.” He slowly pushed himself more and more and deeper into your cunt.
First it was painful but the way he was making sure you were fine made you relax and quickly turn the pain into pleasure.
“I’m almost fully in, can you take it in baby?” You nodded slowly, trying to catch your breath still. With one thrust he pushed in fully, your back arched and you moaned.
“Im gonna move now, alright?” He said before slowly pulling out and thrust back in.
With moans filling the room he had a routine built, slow and gentle, making sure he didn’t hurt you since it was your first time.
But you wanted more, you needed more.
“Joe…”
“Yeah baby?”
“Go fas-faster…please.” You gasped.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I don’t want to hurt you, it’s your first.” He denied, not because he didn’t want to but because he was scared to hurt you inside.
Something once again shifted in you and you grabbed his shoulders, collecting all your strength and flipped it around.
You were now suddenly on top, his eyes went big, surprised.
“Baby, what are you do—“ before he could stop you pulled yourself off him and smacked down, making him moan.
You quickly got a speed and started bouncing up and down in his dick, clearly hearing how wet you were every time you went down into him. Slapping your ass on him.
His hand flew to your hips, as you went to his chest hair.
“Fuck, you are a needy one right?” He smirked as he was accepting that you will not let him tell you what to do, and it made his dick even harder.
Your orgasm started building again as you were rocking yourself on him, your tits bouncing, while your fingers were in his chest hair and your head flew back.
But since it was your first time, your orgasm approaching quickly got you worn out and your movements became weak. Joe noticed. “Its okey baby.”
He said before slowly taking over again, getting on top. Your eyes were shut immediately as he started pounding into you in full speed, but his eyes were also shut, lost in the pleasure.
“Fuck you are so tight I’m not gonna last—“ he said between groans. “Where-where do you want it?”
“Inside, fuck—inside please.” Your voice cracked as he was hitting your spot perfectly.
He shot his hot leak inside your walls and that was the last drop you needed, you screamed his name once again cuming all around his dick.
He slowly slowed his space down, his head falling on your shoulder, your hand flew up to his hair.
“I love you so much.” He muttered in your neck, before pulling himself up to look at you.
Your hand now flew to his cheeks. “I love you so much more. Thank you.”
He chuckled. “You don’t have to thank me anything, you are my wife, I would do anything and I mean anything for you. Are you okey?”
“Yeah, I’m more than okey.” You smiled before pulling him in for a soft kiss, while that he slowly pulled out of you, you starting to feel leaking from him.
He pulled off the kiss and while looking up at you traveled down to your pussy again.
“Babe, what are you—“ you giggled, before his tongue suddenly rested flat on your pussy.
He slowly licked all over it, getting the mixture of you and him in his mouth, you moaned, sore from the sex.
“Uhm, this is the best thing, us together. Do you wanna taste it?” He asked as you nodded. So he went and collected everything he could making shiver, overstimulated a bit.
He traveled back to your lips before pushing his cum covered tongue into your mouth. You sucked it all off, making him moan.
“I like that.”
“And I like you.” He immediately responded before putting a kiss on your forehead and slowly stood up.
“Where are you going?” You pushed yourself up to your elbows.
“I’m gonna get some towels to wipe it off baby, then we will cuddle alright? Talk about the best day of my life.” He disappeared into the bathroom and you caught yourself smile ear to ear.
Just like you did when you two first met. Because it doesn’t matter how much time goes by, he still made you have butterflies in your stomach, and now it was sure he was gonna do that forever.
description: while the kids are away for the weekend at their moms, you and DILF!steve have some fun.𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི
tw! MDNI, smut, unprotected piv, daddy kink…
The house is quiet except for the low hum of the ceiling fan and the distant sound of crickets outside. Steve’s ex wife had the kids this weekend, so the whole place belonged to just the two of you.
You’re already naked on his bed, face down in his soft pillows that smell like his shampoo, when Steve crawls over you from behind.
His body is warm and solid, years of chasing toddlers and late night gym sessions, keeping him deliciously firm. His chest hair tickles your back as he presses a trail of slow, open-mouthed kisses down your spine.
“Been thinking about you all week,” he says softly, voice low and affectionate. “when I dropped the kids off, all I could picture was coming home to this.” His hands slide up your sides, squeezing gently before gripping your hips and pulling your ass up higher. “You look so fucking good like this.”
You arch your back, pushing against the thick length of his cock resting between your cheeks. “Then stop teasing, Harrington. I need you inside me. Want those back shots you promised.” you say with a smirk looking back at steve.
Steve lets out a breathless laugh that turns into a groan as he lines himself up and pushes in slow at first, letting you feel every inch and stretch filling you completely. “Fuck, baby. Always so perfect for me.” Once he bottoms out, he leans down, chest flush to your back, and kisses the side of your neck. “Tell me how it feels.”
“So full,” you moan, clenching around him. “You’re so deep already, bigger than anyone else, baby. Move, Steve please. Fuck me like you mean it.”
That’s all the encouragement he needed.
He pulls back and slams forward, setting a steady, powerful rhythm. The wet slap of his hips meeting your ass echoes through the room with every thrust. His hands are everywhere at once.
one braced beside your head, the other gripping your waist, keeping you right where he wants you.
“God, yes,” he growls, lips brushing your ear. “Love pounding this pretty pussy. You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. Such a good girl for Daddy.”
You push back to meet his thrusts, gasping at how deep he gets. “Harder, Steve! fuck me harder, baby.” you babble, already drunk off his cock.
Steve groans loudly, the sound vibrating through your bodies. He adjusts his angle and starts driving into you with long, punishing strokes, the headboard knocking rhythmically against the wall. Sweat slicks between your bodies as he fucks you harder, deeper.
“Yeah? You like when I fuck you like this baby?” he pants, nipping at your shoulder. “My sweet girl bent over, moaning for my cock while my ex thinks I’m just ‘relaxing’ this weekend.”
“Love it,” you whimper, reaching back to grab his thigh, nails digging in. “Love being your baby. Love how you stretch me open, Don’t stop fill me up, Daddy. I want every drop.”
“Shit, baby,” Steve hisses, his pace turning frantic . He slides one hand under your body, fingers finding your sensitive clit and rubbing tight circles while he keeps pounding you.
“You’re gonna make me ccum too fast talking like that. love how you squeeze me when you get close. Come on, let me feel it.”
You’re trembling beneath him, pleasure building fast from the relentless back shots and his skilled fingers. “Steve-fuck, I’m so close.”
He buries his face in your neck, moaning your name as his thrusts lose rhythm. “Love you… fuck, I love you so much. Gonna give you everything gonna fuck this pretty pussy just how you like it.”
The combination of his filthy words and deep, grinding thrusts sends you over the edge first. You cry out, clenching hard around him as your orgasm crashes through you, waves of pleasure flowing through out your body, making your toes curl. Steve follows right behind, slamming deep one last time and spilling hot inside you with a broken groan, hips jerking as he rides it out.
For a long moment, the only sounds are your heavy breathing and the soft creak of the bed as he carefully lowers you both onto your sides. He stays buried deep, spooning you tightly from behind. One strong arm wraps around your waist while the other hand gently strokes your arm, your stomach, anywhere he can reach.
“You okay, baby?” he whispers before pressing soft kisses along your shoulder and the back of your neck. His voice is soft now, full of that post sex fluff you always craved from him. “Didn’t hurt you, right? I always get a little carried away when it’s been awhile .”
You smile, reaching back to thread your fingers through his now damp hair. “I’m perfect. That was exactly what I needed. You always take such good care of me.”
Steve chuckles warmly and nuzzles closer, his nose brushing your ear. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet. Gonna stay right here for a little while,keep you full of me.” His hand slides down to rest possessively over your lower belly. “Love feeling you like this. All warm and soft and mine.”
You squeeze around him playfully, earning a low groan. “Greedy DILF,” you tease, voice laced with affection. “Can’t get enough of your girl, huh?”
“Never,” he admits, kissing your temple. “Especially not when she talks as filthy as you do. always wrecking me every time.” He pauses, voice dropping into something softer. “I mean it, though. I love you. These nights with you, they’re what get me through the custody schedule and the chaos. You make everything better.”
You turn your head just enough to catch his lips in a slow, sweet kiss. “Love you too, Stevie. Now stop being all cute while you’re still inside me, or I’m gonna want round two.”
He grins against your mouth, already starting to harden again. “Who says we have to wait? Give me ten minutes to get you some water and a snack then I’m flipping you back over and giving you what you want while I tell you how perfect you are.”
You laugh softly, pressing back against him. “Deal. But only if you keep calling yourself Daddy again.”
Steve groans happily, arms tightening around you. “Anything for you, baby. Anything.”
this was so much fun to write, i really hope you guys enjoy this oneღゝ◡╹ )ノ
i was supposed to post this after i finish my neighbour series but i just couldn’t wait🥲
When your boyfriend told you that he will be modeling for Calvin Klein, you felt like a little kid on Christmas morning. You encouraged him to do it a few times before, and he finally listened to you. He could never say no to you.
“Wait but what, is it gonna be an advertisement for a perfume or clothing?” you asked him.
“Clothing babe, underwear” he winked at you.
Oh my god, you thought to yourself. Underwear!? By thinking about it you could feel your cheeks heat up.
“Underwear?” you asked.
“Yes underwear” he chuckled, seeing you get flustered
You always got turned on when Joe wore his Calvin Klein boxers, and now him, modeling and getting professionally photographed with them? You were getting so turned on by the thought.
“Oh” is what all you managed to say “You can’t do that to me”
“What babe I didn’t mean-“
“No you know how turned on I get by seeing you in them, and now a photoshoot? God help me I’m going to start levitating”
“Oh baby come here” he picked you up and placed you on his lap, tucking a curly hair strand behind your ear “I’m doing this for you” he said.
“For- for me?” you asked
“Mhm so when I’m away on tour, you could have those pictures to look at” he smirked, he always teased you so much.
“Joee” you hid your face in the crook of his neck, getting all shy. His cologne scent entering your nose making you almost roll your eyes. He smelled so good you would smell him 24/7 if you could.
“Hey now don’t get shy” he laughed, stroking your hair and your back. Tracing his fingers down your spine, he knew you loved that.
“When’s the photoshoot?” you asked
“Tomorrow”
You lifted your head from his neck “Tomorrow?” you asked
“Yeah would’ve told you sooner but i found out an hour ago”
“Joseph you will kill me one day”
He chuckled and pulled you close for a cuddle. His warm body radiated comfort. You both loved cuddling and even did it before your first kiss. There was something about the way Joe made you feel, you never really found the right words for it, but you sure felt it.
Today you were left alone in your shared apartment with Joe, he left early in the morning to go at the studio for the photoshoot.
The whole entire day you thought about it, how will Joe look in the pictures, what pose will he do. The thoughts in your mind didn’t stop.
Two hours later you heard the front door open, meaning Joe was home. Your cat quickly ran to the door out of curiosity see who it was.
“Honey I’m home!” Joe yelled from the hallway, walking into the living room. You were sat on the couch, binge watching a show.
You saw Joe holding a big envelope in his hand and a bag with “Calvin Klein” written on it. What was he bringing you?
“Heyy how did it go?” you asked, he approached you and leaned in for a deep kiss.
“Honestly perfect” he smiled “I have surprises for you” he placed the bag on the table and the envelope on your lap.
“Joe what is this?” you asked, picking up the envelope.
“Open it” he smiled.
You slowly started opening the envelope, it looked like it had pictures inside of it.
Pulling out the first picture, It’s Joe, in a white tank top and white Calvin Klein underwear. You couldn’t take your eyes off of the picture. He was sat on a high chair with his arms crossed on his chest, making his biceps more visible.
“Oh my-“ you whispered, eyes glued to the picture.
“Look at the next one” Joe said.
Flipping through the next picture, you froze. Joe now laying on the floor, with his hands tangled in his hair, and this time shirtless. Wait a minute, his chest hair is gone.
“Joe.”
“What?”
“Where is your chest hair, and the happy trail too?” you asked.
(Joe never wanted to shave them, he knew how much you liked them and the turn on they were for you. But the team said that he had to.)
“Oh um they told me to shave it” he explained
“Joseph David Keery” you said in a serious tone
“Baby I know but i had to, but there’s another surprise for you in the photos just keep on looking” he said.
You grabbed the end of his t shirt and lifting it upwards to check. And holy shit he was smooth as a baby’s butt.
You looked at 5 more pictures each had a different pose.
One where he was sitting on a chair with his hands behind his head and legs spread, his muscles and veins on his arms popping out making your brain fog, a slight smirk on his lips.
Two where he was facing the camera with his back, slightly looking behind, you could see how perfect his nose was at this angle. His moles across his back, that you spend tracing them as constellations every night.
Three where he was standing and pretending to fix the underwear, the waistband exposing his v line.
And now for your favourite ones. The ones Joe saved for you, with his chest hair and happy trail.
Four his hand on his chest while he looked to the side, his fingers resting in between the hairs, while the happy trail travelled down to his black boxers.
And Five where his hair was wet, water droplets resting on his whole body. He was in a bathroom leaning against the counter. His hair was way darker because of the water, defining his chest perfectly.
“Oh my god” you said, your eyes still glued to the pictures. You couldn’t believe it. He looked so handsome.
“You like them baby? he asked
“Like them? I’m gonna frame them up in our room and look at them every morning and night”
Joe laughed “Okay now look what’s inside the bag”
“Oh that okay” you placed the photos on the table and grabbed the bag.
“What’s inside?” you asked him.
“Open and find out yourself” he smirked
Removing the paper wrap from the bag, you saw two pieces of underwear.
A Calvin Klein bra and panties. Both black and the waistband was white where it said Calvin Klein.
“Where did you get these?” you asked, taking a look in them.
“They told me I could get two things for free, so I got them for you” he said softly. But there was nothing soft about the bulge in his pants.
“Thank you honey” You jumped to hug him “Now we’re gonna be matching” you said.
“Figured I’d buy you something so you don’t stay mad at me for getting shaved”
“Oh trust me I am still pissed off about that” you replied.
“Go on and try them on I want to see you” Joe said, his hands cupping your face
“Hmm I don’t know If you will get that easy access” you teased him.
“I- what do you mean?” he asked
“You’ll see” you quickly kissed him on the lips and jogged to your bedroom to get dressed.
Trying on the underwear, it fit you like a glove. How did Joe even get the right size? The underwear rested perfectly on your hips, and the back was a little bit like a thong. He knew what he was buying.
The bra cupped your breasts perfectly, you always struggled finding the perfect bra, but Joe might’ve just found it for you.
You decided to tease him, he won’t get what he wants, not yet. He has to learn a lesson.
Walking out of the bedroom, when Joe saw you he froze at the sight. His eyes widened and he cleared his throat and feel his cock twitch.
“Honey” he managed to whisper
“You like it?” you twirled around, giving him a full 360 look.
“Babe I’m going to order 50 more sets of these” he breathed out. He stood up, walking towards you and wrapping his hands around your waist. But you walked backwards.
“Nuh huh Joseph, you’re grounded today”
“Wha- what do you mean?”
“You shaved your chest” you widened your eyes at him.
“But baby I had to”
“I know I know and that’s why you will face your punishment” you smiled, walking towards the kitchen island.
“What kind of punishment? What are you talking about?” he asked confused.
“You will see, go sit down on the couch”
He didn’t say anything, he quietly turned around and sat on the couch.
It was action time.
You poured yourself a glass of water, and walked towards the living room. You’re going to make his brain foggy.
Standing right in front of him, you placed the glass of water between your lips, drinking water. Then slowly you moved the glass by a little, making the water spill and land right at your breasts.
Bingo.
“Honey what-“ Joe asked confused. His pants did a horrible job at hiding his boner, like a really horrible job.
You had water drooling all over your chin and neck now, wiping it with the back of your hand while looking into his eyes.
“Take off your pants” you ordered.
Joe obeyed, standing up and unbuttoning them. Of course the boxers he wore were matching your underwear.
“Sit down” you ordered him again. He listened to you like a little puppy. Sitting down on the couch and spreading his legs out of habit.
You straddled his lap, he groaned when you sat right on top of his boner.
“Babe I-“
You placed your finger on his mouth “Shhh”
Grabbing the end of his shirt, you took it off, meeting his bare and smooth chest.
You see it looked good, he had a great body. But it’s not the same with the hair. He doesn’t have the happy trail and you would trail kisses down to every time he would have a bad day or was simply exhausted.
Trailing your fingers down on his chest, you could feel his muscles underneath tighten by your touch.
“Please-“ Joe whimpered.
“Please what baby?” you asked whispering.
“Touch me I- do something” he let out a whiny moan. His brain was already going foggy, the only thing he could feel was how hard his cock was.
You decided it was action time, you slowly rolled your hips forward, your pussy rubbing against his aching cock.
“Ooh my- god” Joe let out a shaky moan.
His hands gripped your hips hard, trying to make them move faster, but you moved slowly. Teasing him as much as you could.
“You like that don’t you?” you asked him, slowly leaving kisses on the right side of his neck.
“Yes yes please- don’t stop”
You continued dry humping him, although there was nothing dry here. Both of your underwears were soaking wet.
“What if…i…..stopped” You slowed down your movements.
“No sweetheart don’t” Joe’s head was thrown back, exposing his neck to you.
Your mouth attacked his neck, tongue swirling around his adams apple and tracing his exposed veins.
“Please do something baby please”
“Look at you so needy” you chuckled, now fastening your movements, and pressing your hips harder.
His hips buckled up, you could feel him poking your clit every time you moved.
“Will you repeat that mistake again Joe?”
He shook his head no, eyes shut and brows furrowed.
“I asked you a question, will you repeat it?”
“No no no no please I won’t never again” he whimpered.
“Good, I hope you learnt your lesson” you kissed his chest. Then you raised yourself up, removed your panties and his boxers.
His chest rose up and down fast, you could feel him twitch when you grabbed his cock, lining it up with your folds.
Joe looked at you with heavy lidded eyes and cheeks flush red. His knuckles turned white from gripping the pillow next to him.
“Tonight, I have control. You try to take over and I immediately stop” you whispered “You understand me?”
“Yes please just- let me feel you” he moaned.
You sank down on him, both of you moaning at the same time from just feeling each other.
Joe stretched you out, a lot. It always hurt first and then it was replaced by pleasure.
You started bouncing up and down on him, and rolling your hips in circles, making him go crazy.
“You’re so tight fuck”
His talk made you clench around him even more. You both were very close.
“You- ah feel so good” Joe moaned, his hand found your clit, circling it with his thumb.
“Yeah how about this?” you asked you raised yourself up and roughly slammed down on him.
“Fuck you’re evil”
“And you’re welcome”
Without thinking, you grabbed his biceps and bit into it. Leaving a mark with your teeth, then you gently sucked on it.
“Shit you’re unbelievable” he whimpered “Im close I can’t-“
“Gonna come? Is that how desperate you are?” you asked him
“Cmon do it for me” you encouraged him. You were close too. You could feel him in your stomach, it’s like he was rearranging all of your organs.
“Joe” you moaned out. Starting to feel overstimulated, your hips lost their rhythm while your orgasm was approaching faster than ever. And you could feel also Joe get close by how he squeezed his muscles.
One last roll and both of you were coming undone. Your orgasm made your eyes roll backwards while in the meantime Joe let out the loudest moan ever.
He filled you up so much to the point where it leaked everywhere.
“Joe-“ you whimpered
“I know baby I know shit- you feel heavenly” he pressed his forehead against yours.
“That was the hottest thing ever” He whispered “I won’t shave again but you could take control like this more often” he chuckled.
cw: teasing, babying, spitting, softdom!steve, age gap, pet names, crying, sort of oral (f receiving)
wc: 800
steve’s hands are on your hips, guiding your body through your apartment halls into your bedroom from behind you.
his grip was firm and possessive, fingertips pressing bruises into your skin.
he took you into your bedroom, your feet moving beneath you absentmindedly, like steve was in more control of your body than you.
“gonna be a good girl for me yeah?”
“i always am”
“mm i know you are bunny”
stopping just after the doorway, steve wrapped his arms around your waist, spinning you round and lifting you up over his shoulder.
with a few loud smacks to your ass he continued to the bed, throwing you into the middle of the mattress onto your back.
wrapping his fingers around your ankle he pulled you down until your feet met his body at the foot of the bed.
he rid you off your clothes slowly, almost ceremoniously.
kissing over each bit of skin as he uncovered it, until you were naked and displayed out for him, only then did he start removing his own.
he leant over you, taking your face in his large hand, keeping you looking right at him.
“your so beautiful, my sweet girl”
you nod as best you can, blinking up at him with red flushed cheeks and parted lips.
standing back up, he grabs under your knees, pulling you further to the edge of the bed until your legs are hanging off.
he parts your legs by pushing on your thighs before dropping to his knees to be in line with your cunt.
“so pretty”
his fingers rub circles into the soft plush of your thighs, eyes fixated on your core.
“so wet already baby girl, what’s gotten you in such a state” he cooed
“you stevie- please do something” you whined desperately, hips wiggling.
“tsk you’re getting yourself all worked up”
he leaned in slightly closer, enough that you could feel his breath over you.
“i need you- so bad”
“how bad bunny?”
“so bad it hurts“
“mmhhm”
his hands moved inwards, thumbs dragging over where your thighs met your pelvis before grazing over your outer lips.
you twitched at his touch, so close yet so far to where you needed to feel him the most.
“you said you were going to be good. yeah?”
“yeah yeah so good”
“just be patient and let me have a little look, okay baby?”
“but-“
“no buts. patience”
you whined loudly, throwing your head back against the bed catching steve shaking his head at your attitude as you go down.
“look at me” reluctantly, you lift your head slightly with a pout.
steve silently gestures behind you at a pillow which you clumsily grab, bracing it behind your head to keep your neck up, to keep your eyes on him.
satisfied, he presses his lips to the insides of your thighs, alternating between each one, getting higher and higher until he reaches where his thumbs are settled.
taking his thumbs away, he kisses over where they were, his stubble scraping your sensitive skin slightly.
leaning back, his thumbs pull at your lips, opening you up for him.
“you’re dripping sweet thing”
“please-“ tears begin to swim in your eyes.
“just a little longer, i know you can do it”
a high whimper tore from your throat as steve pressed a feather light kiss just above your throbbing clit.
he replaced his thumbs with his fore fingers, using his thumbs to now trace over your puffy inner lips.
you squirmed beneath him, over sensitive at so little stimulation, jerking uncontrollably when one of his thumbs dragged up your slit.
he pulled it into his mouth, cleaning his thumb of your arousal.
“tastes just as sweet as you are”
his thumbs spread you again opening you up for him to spit right on your hole. he watches it roll down to your ass, catching it there and spreading it back up your pussy.
he spits again, this time on your clit making you jump and cry out, a tear slipping down your cheek.
he spreads it with two of his fingertips, keeping you wide open with his thumbs as your hips are moving uncontrollably under the pressure of steve’s arms.
“stop moving or this is going to take longer”
you didn’t for one second not believe him, stilling your hips in an instant.
“good girl”
dropping his head, he kisses right on your clit, pulling back almost immediately as your hips bucked up into his face.
“what did i say”
“m sorry- need it so bad- m so achy” you choke out between sobs.
“shh bunny it’s okay”
he stands, leaning over your face to kiss away the couple of small tears that have escaped.
“you’ve done so good babygirl, so good for me” he reassured.
he kissed your lips, the faint taste of yourself lingering between your mouths.
“please- need your mouth on me properly” you whisper, pouting and fluttering your damp lashes up at him.
“how could i say no to that pretty little face”
he squeezed your jaw between one hand, the other dipping into your soaking folds before he knelt back down and buried his head between your thighs for what felt like hours.
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i would LOVE something where the reader is comforting Joe! Maybe him feeling insecure or upset about something and just fully leans on the reader for support. Just fluffy needy Joe and maybe some intimacy/smut to wrap it up! You’re the best!!
thank you so much for sending this one in!!
i absolutely adored this request. the idea of joe getting home from a long press run, feeling exhausted and overworked and like he has to perform for people to like him, then getting home to reader and just... letting himself be held for a while 😭
i really hope i did your idea justice. thank you for trusting me with such a lovely prompt 🫶
get back to your heart
Joe Keery x reader
Summary: After weeks of performing for everyone else, Joe finally comes home to the one place he never has to perform at all.
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, no use of y/n, established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, praise (lmk if i missed anything)
W/C: 10k (my longest fic yet, i had a lot of fun with this one lol)
Read more of my writing here: [masterlist]
If you want to be added to my taglist, leave a comment to lmk!
The engine idles, a low vibration through the steering wheel that you'd stopped feeling twenty minutes ago. The arrivals board has blinked through three flight status changes - landed, taxiing, arrived - and now the automatic doors cycle open and closed, open and closed, each time spitting out travellers you don't recognise. Your hands rest at ten and two, though you've relaxed your grip somewhere around the thirty-minute mark. The heating fights the cold pressing against the windscreen, and you've cracked the driver's side window an inch just to feel the January air against your cheek.
A family rolls past with matching suitcases. A man in a suit talks loudly into his phone. A woman with a toddler balanced on her hip scans the crowd, face lit with recognition, and breaks into a smile. You watch her run toward someone, watch the hug, watch the way the toddler squirms between them. You look back at the doors.
He comes through them alone.
You know his walk before you can make out his face - the slight forward lean, the way his shoulders curve in like he's trying to take up less space than he needs. His duffel hangs from one hand, dragging his arm low, and the other hand is shoved into his jacket pocket. He isn't looking at the crowd. He's looking at his feet, at the concrete, at the striped zebra crossing - anywhere but at the people who might recognise him.
A woman glances his way. Does a double take. Opens her mouth.
Joe keeps walking.
Your hand moves before you decide to move it - you reach across and push the passenger door open, a small act, a crack in the silence. The console light clicks on. His head lifts.
Your eyes meet through the windscreen.
Something in his face softens. Just a fraction. Just enough for you to see the man beneath the exhaustion, the one you haven't seen in weeks. He doesn't smile yet. But his pace quickens, just slightly, and that small acceleration tells you more than any word could have.
You watch him cross the last stretch of concrete. Watch the way his free hand comes up to push his hair off his forehead - a nervous gesture, one he does before shows, before interviews, before anything that requires him to be someone else. He does it now, in front of you, and you understand: he's still shedding the performance. Still finding his way back into his own skin.
He reaches the car and bends to toss his duffel into the backseat. It lands with a heavy thud - clothes, probably, and a laptop, and the thousand small things he's carried through airports and hotel rooms and green rooms for weeks. He straightens, meets your eyes again, and this time his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. But close.
"Hey," you say. Soft. Simple. Just your voice, no pressure behind it.
"Hey." His voice cracks on the single syllable, and he clears his throat, looking away. He pulls the door closed, and the overhead light dies, plunging you both into the dim glow of the dashboard. The seatbelt clicks into place. The silence settles around you like something physical, something you both have to adjust to.
You don't ask how the flight was. Don't ask if he's hungry, if he needs anything, if the press tour had been brutal, if the fans at the gate had been overwhelming.
Not yet.
You just put the car in drive and pull away from the curb, merging into the airport traffic with the ease of someone who's done this route a hundred times.
Beside you, Joe lets out a breath. Long. Slow. Like he's been holding it since he stepped off the plane.
The motorway unfurls in front of you, a ribbon of wet asphalt reflecting the red taillights of the cars ahead. Streetlights pass in rhythm, casting shadows that move across his face - illuminating, then hiding, then illuminating again. His profile. The slope of his nose. The dark circles under his eyes that you can see even in the fractured light. The way his fingers rest on his thigh, motionless, not tapping, not restless - just still in a way that feels wrong on him. Joe's hands are never still. They move when he talks, when he thinks, when he breathes. These hands are dead weight.
You glance at him. Look back at the road. Say nothing.
You pass an exit for a roadside restaurant you'd been to together once, months ago, before the tour had swallowed him whole. You remember him laughing at something you'd said, remember the way his knee had pressed against yours under the table. That version of him feels distant now, like a photograph of a person you used to know.
But you don't reach for the old version. You don't try to pull him back to a memory. You just drive, letting the silence be what it is - not empty, not heavy, just a space you can both exist in without performing.
Fifteen minutes pass. Maybe twenty. The motorway gives way to residential streets, familiar turns, the oak tree with the twisted branch, the corner shop with the flickering sign. Home territory. The last mile.
Joe shifts in his seat. You feel him looking at you before you see it- the weight of his gaze on your profile, studying you the way you'd studied him.
"You're not going to ask," he says. Not accusatory. Just observant, like he's testing a theory.
"I'm not going to ask," you agree.
A pause. The heating hums.
"Why?"
You consider the question. Take the last turn onto your street, the tyres crunching over gravel and fallen leaves. The headlights sweep across your garage door - closed, waiting, familiar.
"Because you'll tell me when you want to," you say. "And right now you look like you need to not talk more than you need to explain anything."
He doesn't respond. But you hear him breathe again - that same long exhale, like you've given him permission for something he didn't know he was asking for.
The garage door creaks open as you pull into the driveway, the automatic light clicking on, illuminating the cluttered space - your bike leaning against the wall, a stack of boxes you still haven't unpacked from when he'd moved in, the dusty shelf of tools he'd promised to organise. You pull in and cut the engine.
The silence changes. The absence of the road noise, the absence of movement - just the two of you, sitting in the dark garage, the engine ticking as it cools. The garage light hums overhead, fluorescent and unflattering, casting everything in a pale, washed-out glow.
Joe doesn't move to get out.
You don't prompt him. You sit, your hands still on the wheel, your gaze fixed on the wall ahead. You can feel him beside you - the heat of him, the weight of his presence, the small sounds of his breathing. You wait.
His hand moves. You see it in your peripheral vision - his fingers uncurling from his thigh, reaching across the centre console, finding your arm. His touch lands light, his palm resting just below your elbow, his thumb brushing a slow arc across the fabric of your jumper.
You turn your hand over, palm up, an invitation.
He takes it. His fingers intertwine with yours, cold from the airport, from the hours of holding nothing. His grip tightens. Holds.
"I missed this," he says, so quiet you almost miss it. "I missed-" He stops. Swallows. Starts again. "I missed being able to just... sit. And not have to be anything."
You squeeze his hand. Your thumb finds the inside of his wrist, the place where his pulse beats steadily against your skin. "You don't have to be anything here."
He nods. A single jerky motion. His jaw is tight; you can see it now - the muscle jumping along the line of his cheek, the way he's holding himself together by sheer force of will. You don't call attention to it. You just hold his hand, letting the silence do what conversation can't.
Two more minutes pass. The garage light clicks off, sensing no movement, plunging you into darkness for a beat before clicking back on. The cycle of it. The patience of it.
Finally, you hear him unbuckle his seatbelt. The sound is loud in the quiet - a sharp metallic click that signals a shift. But he doesn't move to get out. He just sits there, his hand still in yours, his gaze fixed on the garage wall.
"I'm glad you were the one picking me up," he says. His voice is rough. Tired. Real. "I don't think I could have done the small talk. The smile-for-the-camera routine. Not tonight."
"I know."
He turns to look at you, then - really look, his hazel eyes finding yours in the dim light. There is something raw in them, something unguarded, like he's forgotten to put the mask back on. You meet his gaze and hold it, letting him see that you see it, letting him know that you aren't afraid of what he's showing you.
"Come on," you say softly. "Let's go inside."
He nods. His hand slips from yours, and the absence of his touch feels like a small loss, a thread cut. He reaches for the door handle. Pauses.
"Hey."
You wait.
"Thanks. For not-" He gestures vaguely, a motion that encompasses the car, the drive, the silence, the whole evening. "For this."
You smile. Small. Warm. "Always."
He pushes the door open, and the cold air rushes in, sharp and clean, carrying the smell of wet leaves and winter. You watch him step out, watch him walk to the back of the car to grab his duffel, watch the way his shoulders straighten as he stands - not in performance, but in preparation. The small gathering of himself before the next threshold.
You unbuckle your own seatbelt and follow.
The cold hits you the moment you step out - a January bite that finds the exposed skin at your wrists and the back of your neck. You pull your jumper tighter around yourself, the wool scratchy against your palms, and round the front of the car. Joe stands at the back, his duffel slung over one shoulder, his other hand resting on the open boot as if he needs something to anchor himself to.
The garage light hums above you, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Your bike leans against the wall, a spiderweb glistening in the corner, the stack of boxes still waiting to be unpacked. You'd meant to organise them while he was gone. Hadn't found the energy. Now you're glad - the familiar clutter feels like proof that life has continued here, ordinary and unglamorous, waiting for him to return to it.
You walk towards him, your feet silent on the cold concrete. He doesn't look up until you're close enough to see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the way his stubble has grown past careful into something rougher, less tended to. He'd stopped shaving mid-tour, probably. You've seen the photos - the carefully curated scruff that looks good under studio lights. This is different. This is neglect. This is a man who's stopped bothering with the small rituals of upkeep because he's too exhausted.
"You want me to grab anything?" you ask, nodding at the duffel.
He shakes his head. "Got it."
You don't argue. You step back, giving him room, and watch as he closes the boot with his free hand. The sound echoes in the garage - metal meeting metal, final and dull. He stands there for a moment, hand still resting on the closed boot, his gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance. You see the crease between his brows, the one that appears when he's thinking too hard, when he's trying to solve a problem that doesn't have a solution. It's deeper than she remember. More permanent.
You wait.
His hand drops from the boot. He turns towards you, and for a second, something passes across his face - a flicker of uncertainty, as if he isn't sure what comes next, as if the script he's been following for weeks has run out of pages. You know that look. Have seen it before, in the early days, when he'd first started staying over and didn't know the rhythm of your place yet. He's learning a new space again. The space of being home.
"The light," he says, gesturing with his chin toward the automatic sensor. "It keeps turning off."
You glance up at the fixture. "Yeah. The sensor's been acting up. I keep meaning to replace it."
"I can do that."
"You don't have to."
"I know." He shifts the duffel on his shoulder. "I want to."
It's such a small thing - replacing a light sensor. But you hear what he isn't saying: he wants to do something useful. Wants to feel like he belongs here again, like he has a role to fill beyond the one he's just left. You understand. You feel it yourself, after long trips, the need to reassert your place in your own home by touching things, fixing things, making them yours again.
"Okay," you say. "We'll drive to the hardware store tomorrow."
A ghost of a smile crosses his face. There and gone. But you see it.
The garage light clicks off, plunging you into darkness for a moment before the sensor catches your movement and clicks back on. You think about how many times you've stood here alone, waiting for the light to come back, and how different it feels with him beside you.
"Ready?" you ask.
He takes a breath. Lets it out. Nods.
"Yeah."
You turn towards the door that leads into the house - the familiar wood with the scratched paint near the handle, the one you've been meaning to repaint for a year now. You read for the knob, and behind you, you hear Joe's footsteps on the concrete, following.
The key turns in the lock. The door swings open, revealing the dark hallway beyond, the faint outline of the coat hooks, the pile of mail you'd left on the entry table. Home. Waiting.
You step inside and hold the door open for him.
The door clicks shut behind him, the latch settling into the frame with a sound you've heard a thousand times but never noticed until now. The hallway light is off - you hadn't switched it on, relying on the spill from the garage through the small window near the top of the door. It casts a thin, bluish rectangle across the floorboards, illuminating the dust motes that drift in the still air.
Joe stands just inside the threshold, his duffel still slung over one shoulder, his free hand resting on the doorframe as if he needs to brace himself against the act of crossing. The garage light flickers behind him, the faulty sensor cycling through its familiar rhythm - on, off, on - before finally settling into a steady hum.
You toe your shoes off and let your keys fall into the ceramic dish on the entry table. The sound is small, ordinary, the kind of noise that belongs to this house and this life. The pile of mail you'd left there - a utility bill, a flyer for a new pizza place, a postcard from a friend travelling in Portugal - shifts slightly under the weight. You don't look at it. You look at him.
His eyes are on the floor, on the worn boards near his feet, on the spot where the finish has worn thin from years of footsteps. His chest rises and falls with a breath that seems to cost him something. The duffel's strap cuts into his shoulder, pulling his shirt collar askew, revealing the edge of a collarbone you want to touch but don't.
You turn to face him fully. The movement is unhurried, a rotation that brings your shoulders square to his, your feet planted on the cold floor. Your socks make no sound against the wood. The house is quiet around you - the hum of the fridge from the kitchen, the distant tick of the wall clock in the living room, the small settling sounds of a building adjusting to the winter night.
You open your arms.
No words. No explanation. No "come here" or "it's okay" or "let me hold you." Just your palms turning upward, your elbows bending, your chest opening in an invitation that asks for nothing in return. The gesture is simple, almost casual - the same way you might reach for him on the couch or in bed - but there is a stillness in it that makes it something else. Something deliberate. Something offered.
He stares at your hands.
For a long moment, he doesn't move. His gaze travels from your palms to your face, and you see the question in his eyes - the wariness of someone who's been performing so long he's forgotten how to accept something genuine. His jaw works. The muscle along his cheek jumps once, twice. His hand tightens on the doorframe.
You don't lower your arms. You don't fill the silence with reassurance. You just stand there, your palms open, your breath steady, your body saying the only thing that matters: I'm here. I see you. You don't have to earn this.
The duffel slides off his shoulder.
It hits the floor with a heavy thud - the sound of clothes and a laptop and the accumulated weight of weeks on the road landing in a heap on the entryway floorboards. He doesn't look at it. Doesn't reach for it. He just lets it lie there, a discarded shell, and takes a step towards you.
The distance between you closes in increments you can measure in heartbeats. One step. His hand leaves the doorframe. Another step. His shoulders curve forwards, the posture you'd seen in the airport, the one that says he's trying to take up less space than he needs. Another step. His breath hitches - just once, a small catch in the rhythm of his breathing, the kind of sound a person makes when they're trying very hard not to fall apart.
You hold your ground. Your arms stay open. Your palms stay turned towards him, empty and waiting.
He crosses the last inch of air between you.
His body meets yours with a force that surprises you - not impact, but surrender. The full weight of him falling forward, his chest pressing against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist with an almost desperate grip, his face burying into the curve of your neck. His knees buckle slightly, and you feel him sag against you, all the tension he's been carrying for weeks finally finding somewhere to land.
Your arms close around him.
The fit is familiar - the width of his back, the slope of his shoulders, the way his head fits perfectly into the hollow of your throat. You've held him a thousand times, in a thousand different ways, but this is different. This is a homecoming. This is him trusting you with the part of himself he shows no one else.
His hands press flat against your lower back, fingers spreading, gripping the fabric of your jumper as if he's afraid you might disappear. His breath is warm against your neck, uneven, coming in jagged fragments that you feel more than hear. He isn't crying - not yet - but there is a tremble in his body, a fine vibration that runs through his muscles like a current, the aftermath of holding himself together for too long.
You rest your cheek against the side of his head. His hair is soft against your skin, still carrying the faint smell of airport air - recirculated oxygen and jet fuel and the synthetic freshness of a plane cabin. But underneath it, there is him. The familiar scent of his skin, the one you've missed in the weeks he's been gone, the one you've caught yourself searching for on his pillow when you can't sleep.
Joe's forehead finds your shoulder. The gesture is instinctiv - a seeking, a settling, a final surrender of the last defences he's been holding. His nose presses into the fabric of your jumper, and you feel the warmth of his breath through the wool, a rhythmic pulse that begins to slow as the seconds pass.
Your hand moves up his spine, fingers trailing over the ridges of his vertebrae, counting them the way you've done a hundred times before. You reach the nape of his neck, where his hair grows softer, and the skin is warm, and let your palm rest there. A grounding point. An anchor.
He makes a sound against your shoulder. Not a word. A small, broken thing, half exhalation and half sob, muffled by the wool of your jumper. You feel it more than hear it - the tremor that passes through his chest, the way his arms tighten around your waist, the way his body presses closer, as if he's trying to climb inside your ribcage and live there.
You don't say anything. Don't shush him. Don't tell him it's okay. You just hold him, your palm warm against his neck, your other hand resting flat on his back, feeling the rhythm of his breathing against your palm. Letting him take what he needs.
A minute passes. Maybe two. Time loses its edges in the dim hallway, the only light the pale rectangle from the garage window, the only sound the soft rustle of his breathing and the distant hum of the fridge. The duffel lies at your feet, a dark lump on the floor, forgotten. The pile of mail remains untouched on the entry table. The coat hooks cast a long shadow against the wall, and somewhere in the living room, the clock ticks forward, measuring time you aren't paying attention to.
Joe's grip loosens. Just slightly. His hands relax from fists into flat palms, the tension draining out of his fingers in stages. His forehead stays pressed against your shoulder, but his breathing has steadied, the jagged edges smoothing into something closer to sleep than distress.
You turn your head, just enough to press your lips to his hair. The kiss is light, barely there, a brush of warmth against the crown of his head. You let your mouth linger for a moment, breathing him in, before pulling back to rest your cheek against him again.
His hand moves. The one that had been gripping the small of your back slides around your hip, his fingers finding the hem of your jumper, slipping underneath to touch the bare skin of your waist. His palm is cold - the cold of the airport, of the car, of the walk from the garage - but it warms quickly against your body, his fingers pressing into your skin with a gentleness that feels like a question.
You answer by pressing closer. By letting your hand slide from his neck to his jaw, your fingertips tracing the line of his stubble, the sharp edge of his cheekbone, the soft skin beneath his eye. He closes his eyes at the touch - you feel the flutter of his lashes against your fingertips - and lets out a breath that seems to carry the last of the tension from his shoulders.
The duffel lies on the floor. The door is closed. The garage light has clicked off, finding no movement, and the hallway is dark except for the thin seam of light beneath the door. You stand in the shadow, two bodies learning each other again, the silence between you filled with everything you haven't said and don't need to.
His thumb traces a slow arc across the skin of your waist. A single motion, repeated once, twice, three times. A pattern. A reassurance. A way of saying I'm here without using words he doesn't have.
You let your fingers drift into his hair, combing through the tangled strands, working out a small knot near the base of his skull. He leans into the touch, his weight shifting further into you, and you feel the last of the resistance leave his body - the final surrender of a man who has finally, fully, come home.
His forehead is warm against your shoulder. His breath is slow and even, warming the fabric of your jumper. His arms are loose around your waist, no longer gripping, just resting, just holding.
You hold him back.
The duffel waits on the floor. The mail waits on the table. The rest of the house stretches out behind you - the kitchen with its unwashed dishes, the living room with the blanket still draped over the couch where you'd slept some nights, the bedroom with the bed you'd made that morning, not knowing when he'd be in it. All of it waiting. All of it patient.
But here, in this dim hallway, with his weight against you and his breath in your hair, nothing else exists. Just this. Just you. Just the slow, steady rhythm of two people breathing together, the silence holding you like a room with no walls.
His voice comes finally - rough, barely above a whisper, muffled against your shoulder.
"Can we stay like this?"
Your arms tighten around him once - a squeeze, a confirmation, a promise sealed without words. Then you pull back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding from his back to his shoulders, your fingers tracing the line of his collarbone before coming to rest on his chest. His eyes are still closed, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder, his breath warm against the column of your throat. You let your gaze travel over him - the dark crescents beneath his lashes, the slight part of his lips, the way his features have softened into something almost childlike in their surrender.
"Yes," you say. The word is quiet, barely more than a breath, but it lands in the space between you like a stone dropping into still water. "We can stay like this."
Joe's hand presses flat against your lower back, a small acknowledgement, a thank-you spoken through his palm.
You let the silence hold you for another moment - one more breath, one more heartbeat, one more second of the world reduced to the warmth of his body against yours. Then your hand moves. Slides from his chest to his shoulder, down his arm, your fingers trailing over the fabric of his jacket until you reach his wrist. You wrap your hand around it - not gripping, just holding, your thumb resting in the hollow where his pulse beats steady and slow.
"Come with me," you say.
He opens his eyes. Lifts his head. Looks at you with that raw, unguarded gaze that makes your chest ache. There's no question in his expression, no hesitation - just a quiet trust, the kind that comes from knowing he doesn't have to understand where you're going, only that you're leading.
You tug gently. A small pull, an invitation. His feet move, following your lead, his hand turning beneath yours so his fingers can intertwine with yours. The duffel lies forgotten on the floor behind you, a dark lump in the dim light. You don't look back. Neither does he.
You step past him, turning towards the living room, your fingers still laced with his. The hallway is narrow - familiar, worn, the walls close enough that your shoulder brushes against the textured wallpaper as you pass. A photograph hangs crooked on the wall, a candid shot of you at a farm shop last summer, his arm around your waist, your head thrown back in laughter. You meant to straighten it. Never have. Now it feels right, that small imperfection, that proof of a life lived without posing.
Joe's footsteps follow yours, unhurried, the soft scuff of his sneakers against the floorboards. His grip on your hand is loose but present - a connection, not a restraint. You can feel his gaze on the back of your head, on your shoulders, on the curve of your spine as you lead him forwards. You don't turn around. You let him look. Let him find his way back into this space through the shape of you.
The hallway opens into the living room, and you feel the shift in the air - the change from the narrow corridor to the broader space, the warmth of the radiator clicking in the corner, the faint smell of the candle you'd burned earlier that evening. The curtains are half-drawn, letting in the pale glow of the streetlight, casting long rectangles of gold across the hardwood floor. The room is quiet in the way only a room that has been empty for weeks could be - a stillness that feels like waiting, like the furniture has been holding its breath for Joe's return.
The couch sits against the far wall, the same one you'd bought together at a thrift store two years ago, its faded blue upholstery worn soft from use. The blanket you've been using is draped over one arm, a cream-colored throw that has pooled on the cushions when you'd gotten up for water and never folded. A mug sits on the side table, cold now, a ring of coffee staining the wood. You'd left your book face-down on the armrest, spine cracked, page marked, a life paused in the middle of a sentence.
You stop at the edge of the rug - the threadbare Persian one you'd found at a car boot sale, the one with the faded medallion pattern that Joe always says looks like a target. He'd laughed the first time he saw it. You remember the sound. Remember wanting to bottle it.
You turn to face him.
He stands a step behind you, still holding your hand, his shoulders curved in that posture you've come to recognise as his default after long days. The streetlight catches the side of his face, illuminating the sharp line of his jaw, the hollow beneath his cheekbone, the way his hair falls across his forehead in tangled strands. His eyes are on you, soft and dark and full of something he isn't saying.
You lift your joined hands and press a kiss to his knuckles. The gesture is small, almost unconscious, but you feel his breath catch - a tiny hitch, a moment of surprise at being touched so gently, at being treated like something precious.
"Sit down," you say. "I'll get you some water."
He shakes his head. "Don't-" His voice cracks again, and he clears his throat, looking down at your hands. "Don't leave."
The words hang in the air between you. Simple. Bare. A confession of need dressed as a request.
You let go of his hand and reach up, your palms finding his cheeks, cradling his face with a tenderness that makes his eyes flutter closed. His stubble is rough against your skin, unfamiliar after weeks without touching it, but his warmth is the same, the fit of his face in your hands as natural as breathing.
"I'm not going anywhere," you say.
He leans into your touch, his hands coming up to cover yours, pressing your palms more firmly against his cheeks. A long exhale escapes him, carrying the last of the tension from his shoulders, and you watch him soften - watch the rigid lines of his posture melt into something pliant and trusting.
"Okay," he says. The word is quiet. Resigned in the best way, the resignation of someone who has finally stopped fighting.
You guide him backwards, your hands still on his face, your steps slow and deliberate, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He drops onto the cushions without resistance, his hands falling from yours, his body sinking into the familiar dip of the seat you've spent hundreds of evenings on. The blanket pools against his hip, and he reaches for it instinctively, his fingers finding the edge of the fabric and holding it like an anchor.
You stand in front of him, looking down at the way the streetlight paints shadows across his features. He looks smaller here, in this room, in the context of your shared life - not diminished, but relieved of the weight of performance. The couch is too soft, the cushions too worn, and he's wearing the same band t-shirt he'd worn on the flight, the collar stretched, a small stain near the hem. He looks like he belongs here. Like he'd never left.
You move around the coffee table, your feet silent on the rug, and settle onto the couch beside him. Not too close - you give him space, let him decide how much contact he needs. But close enough that your knee brushes his, a point of connection he can choose to deepen or ignore.
He chooses to deepen.
He shifts, turning towards you, his hand finding your thigh and resting there with a weight that feels deliberate. His palm is warm through the fabric of your joggers, his fingers curling slightly, gripping the softness of your leg as if you're a fixed point in a world that has been spinning too fast.
"Can I-" He stops. Swallows. Starts again. "Can I put my head in your lap?"
The question is small, almost shy, and it undoes you in a way you don't expect. This is the same man who commands stages, who holds the attention of thousands, who has been photographed and interviewed and analysed from every angle. And here he is, asking permission to rest his head in your lap like a child seeking comfort from a nightmare.
"Yes," you say, and your voice comes out softer than you'd intended, thick with an emotion you don't try to name.
He moves slowly, the way a man moves when he's running on empty, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated. He shifts his weight, twists his torso, and lowers himself onto his side, his head finding your thigh with an accuracy that speaks of practice. He'd done this before - in the early days, when you'd spend whole Sundays on this couch, reading and talking and falling asleep in the afternoon light. His body remembers the shape of this position, the way his shoulders fit against the cushion edge, the way his spine curves to accommodate the length of the seat.
His head settles in your lap, the weight of it familiar and grounding. His hair spills across your thigh, dark against the cream fabric of your joggers, and you watch his eyes close as he lets out a breath that seems to carry the last of the day's defences with it.
Your hand finds his hair before you consciously decide to move it. Your fingers comb through the tangled strands, working through a knot near his temple with a patience that feels like a prayer. His hair is longer than it had been when he left - he hadn't gotten his usual trim before the tour, and it shows in the way it curls at the ends, brushing against his collar and falling across his forehead in waves you have to push back to see his face.
He makes a sound. A small, hummed note of contentment, the kind of sound a person makes when they're finally, truly comfortable. His hand finds your knee, his palm resting against the joint, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles on the fabric.
"I forgot what this felt like," he says, his voice muffled against your thigh. "Being cared about by someone who-" He pauses, searching for words. "Someone who isn't getting paid to do it."
You don't laugh. Don't brush it off with a joke. You just keep your fingers moving through his hair, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp in a rhythm you've learned from trial and error, from the nights he'd come home wired and unable to sleep, from the mornings he'd woken up with his head in your lap and asked you to stay there a little longer.
"I thought about you," he says. The words come out fragmented, like he's testing them as he speaks. "On the road. In the hotels. Between interviews. I'd lie in bed and try to remember what it felt like to just-" He gestured vaguely, his hand waving near his chest. "To just be held. Without the performance. Without having to give anything back."
"And?"
He's quiet for a long moment. His thumb stops moving on your knee. His breath evens out, slowing, deepening into something that sounds almost like sleep.
"I couldn't," he says finally. "I couldn't remember. I knew it existed. I knew I'd felt it before. But I couldn't-" His voice cracks, and he stops, pressing his face harder against your thigh. "I couldn't feel it."
You feel the wetness before you understand it - the warmth of a tear soaking through the fabric of your joggers, spreading against your skin. You don't look down. Don't call attention to it. You just keep your hand moving through his hair, your fingers steady, your touch soft.
"I'm here now," you say. "You don't have to remember. You can just feel it."
His hand finds yours, pulling it from his hair, pressing your palm against his chest. You feel his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt - steady, strong, alive. His fingers curl around your hand, holding it there, keeping you anchored to the rhythm of him.
"I love you," he says. The words come out raw, scraped clean of performance, bare in a way that makes the air in the room change. "I don't say it enough. I don't- I don't show it enough. But I love you. And I-" He takes a shaky breath. "I don't know how to be the person who deserves the way you love me."
You lower your head, pressing your lips to his hair, letting the kiss linger. Your thumb traces the line of his collarbone, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric.
"You don't have to deserve it," you say. "You just have to let yourself have it."
His hand tightens on yours, and you feel the shudder that runs through him - a release, a surrender, a letting go of something he's been carrying for longer than you could know. You hold him through it, your body a container for his grief, your presence a promise that he doesn't have to carry it alone.
The clock ticks on the wall, measuring time in increments that feel both infinite and irrelevant. The streetlight shifts as a cloud passes overhead, dimming the room for a moment before brightening again. Somewhere outside, a car passes, its headlights sweeping across the curtains before fading into the night.
Joe's breathing slows. Deepens. His hand relaxes around yours, his grip loosening into something more like resting than holding. His body settles against you, his weight becoming heavier, more trusting, as the tension of the last weeks slowly bleeds out of him and into the cushions beneath you.
You watch his face in the dim light - the way his features soften in sleep, the way the lines around his eyes smooth out, the way his lips part slightly as his breath evens into the rhythm of rest. He looks younger like this. Lighter. Like the version of himself that existed before the cameras and the crowds and the constant pressure to be someone other than who he is.
Your hand continues its slow path through his hair, your fingers mapping the familiar territory of his scalp, the curve of his ear, the soft skin behind it. You don't stop. Don't slow. You keep touching him, keep proving that he's here, that he's home, that the world hadn't ended while he was gone.
Minutes pass. The clock ticks. The radiator clicks and hums. The streetlight throws its steady beam across the floor, and the dust drifts in the pale light, suspended and unhurried.
His hand moves. Not much - just his fingers curling around the hem of your joggers, holding the fabric like a child holding a blanket. A small gesture. An unconscious seeking of comfort.
You cover his hand with yours, threading your fingers together over your thigh, and let your eyes close. You don't sleep - not quite - but you let yourself drift in the warm, quiet space of having him back. The weight of his head. The warmth of his hand. The slow rhythm of his breathing, syncing with yours in a cadence that feels older than words.
The book on the armrest waits to be finished. The cold mug of coffee on the side table waits to be washed. The unpacked boxes in the garage wait for another day. None of it matters. None of it exists beyond the boundaries of this room, this couch, this man sleeping in yur lap.
You press another kiss to his hair, letting your lips linger, and feel his hand tighten around yours in response - a reflex, an acknowledgement, a small confirmation that even in sleep, he knows you're there.
"Welcome home," you whisper against his hair.
You feel the shift before you hear it - a change in the weight of him, a small tension returning to muscles that had been slack with sleep. His fingers curl against your thigh, not quite gripping, just moving, a subconscious return to awareness. His breath changes, deepens, and you feel the precise moment he surfaces from sleep into the grey space between dreaming and waking.
You don't stop the motion of her fingers through his hair. Keep the rhythm steady, your nails grazing his scalp in the same slow pattern, letting him find his way back at his own pace. The streetlight has shifted, the rectangle of gold on the floor now stretching towards the wall, and the room has grown cooler, the radiator's heat fading into the winter night.
Joe's hand moves from your knee to your shin, his palm sliding down the curve of your calf, his fingers wrapping around your ankle like he's checking that you're still there, still solid, still real. His thumb presses into the bone, a small pressure, an anchor.
You look down at him. His eyes are still closed, but there's a wakefulness in his face now, a subtle shift in the set of his jaw. His lips part, close, part again, as if he's testing whether he has words ready.
"Hey," you say. Your voice is quiet, a thread of sound in the dark room.
His eyes open.
They find yours immediately, as if he'd known exactly where you would be. His gaze is soft, still blurred with sleep, but there's something else in it now - a warmth that had been buried under exhaustion, surfacing like light through receding water. He looks at you for a long moment, his hand still wrapped around your ankle, his head heavy in your lap.
"Hey," he says back. His voice is rough, sleep still clinging to the edges of it.
You smile. Small. Just for him.
He doesn't smile back. But his hand moves - sliding from your ankle up your calf, over your knee, coming to rest on your thigh. His palm is warm through the fabric, and his fingers press into the softness of your leg with a weight that feels like intention.
You watch his hand. Watch the way his fingers spread, gripping your thigh with a new possessiveness that hadn't been there in the sleepy vulnerability of the past hour. His thumb traces a slow arc on the inside of your leg, the pressure firm enough to feel through the joggers.
You look at his face. His eyes are on your mouth.
Something shifts in the air between you. The room doesn't change - the same streetlight, the same dust motes, the same ticking clock - but the quality of the silence alters, thickens, becomes something you can lean into.
Joe's hand tightens on your thigh. A small pull, a request.
You lower your head towards him, your hair falling forwards, brushing against his cheek. You pause an inch from his mouth, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, to see the slight part of his lips, the way his eyes are dropped half-closed, waiting.
"Tell me what you want," you say.
His hand slides up your thigh, over your hip, finding your waist. He tugs, a gentle but insistent pull, drawing you down towards him. You let yourself be moved, your body bending over his, your hands finding the cushions on either side of his head.
His hand comes up to your face. His palm presses against your cheek, his fingers threading into your hair, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone. He looks at you like he's memorising you, like the light in this room is the only light he trusts.
"I want to kiss you," he says. "I want to feel you. I want to remember what it's like to want someone without performing it."
You hold his gaze. Let the words settle.
Then you close the distance.
The kiss starts soft - a brush of lips, a question asked through pressure rather than sound. Joe's mouth is warm, slightly chapped from the dry air of planes and hotels, and he tastes like the faint residue of coffee and exhaustion. You keep it gentle, your lips moving against his with a slowness that feels like reverence, your hand finding his jaw and cradling it the way you'd done earlier, in the hallway.
He makes a sound. Small. Lost. A noise that starts in his chest and escapes through his nose, a vibration against your mouth that you feel in your own ribs.
His hand tightens in your hair. Not pulling, just holding, like you're something precious he's afraid of dropping. His other hand finds your waist, fingers gripping the fabric of your jumper, bunching it in his fist.
You deepen the kiss. Press harder. Your tongue traces the seam of his lips, and he opens for you without hesitation, a surrender so complete it makes your breath catch. His mouth is warm and familiar and new all at once, a taste you'd been missing without knowing how much.
His hand slides under your jumper. His palm presses flat against the small of your back, his fingers spreading, pulling you closer. The contact is skin on skin, his hand warm against your spine, and you feel the shudder that runs through him at the touch.
You break the kiss. Just far enough to look at him. His lips are slightly swollen, his eyes dark and open, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that's faster than before.
"Come to bed," you say.
It isn't a question.
Joe's answer is in the way he moves - sitting up, his hand finding yours, his body turning towards the hallway without letting go of you. The blanket falls away from his lap, pooling on the cushion, forgotten. His hair is a mess, tousled from sleep and your fingers, and the streetlight catches the hollow of his throat as he swallows.
You stand, and he stands with you. His hand stays wrapped around yours, and you lead him through the living room, past the coffee table with the cold mug, past the book face-down on the armrest, past the photograph hanging crooked on the wall. The hallway opens in front of you, narrow and familiar, and you feel his gaze on the back of your head, on the curve of your spine, on the way your hips move as you walk.
The bedroom door is open. The room beyond is dark except for the thin seam of light from the hallway, cutting across the foot of the bed, illuminating the corner of the dresser and the edge of the frame holding a photograph you can't quite make out. The bed is made - you'd done it that morning, a small ritual, a gesture of hope that he would be in it tonight.
You step inside, pulling him with you. The door clicks shut behind you, and the darkness deepens, the only light the faint glow from the window where the curtains haven't been fully drawn. The streetlight filters through, casting long shadows across the floor, painting the room in shades of silver and grey.
You turn to face him.
He stands in the dark room, a silhouette against the pale light from the window. You can see the outline of his shoulders, the way his hands hang at his sides, the slight forward tilt of his posture. He's waiting. Not for permission - for direction. For you to tell him this was real.
You reach for the hem of your jumper. Pull it over your head in one motion, letting it fall to the floor. The air is cool against your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms, and you stand before him in just your bra, your skin warm in the dim light.
Joe's breath catches. Audible. A sharp intake that he doesn't try to hide.
He steps forward. His hands find your waist, his palms sliding up your ribs, his thumbs tracing the underwire of your bra. He doesn't unhook it - just touches you, his fingers mapping the curve of your breasts through the fabric, his gaze fixed on the place where his hands meet your skin.
"You're so beautiful," he says. The words are quiet, almost to himself, as if he's surprised by the truth of them.
You reach for his shirt. The hem is worn, the fabric soft from a hundred washes. You lift it, and he raises his arms, letting you pull it over his head. It joins your jumper on the floor, a pile of dark fabric in the shadowed room.
His chest is pale in the dim light. Lean, the muscles defined but not exaggerated, the kind of body that comes from movement rather than the gym. A scar you remember from a childhood accident, a thin white line near his collarbone. A scatter of freckles across his shoulders. The hollow at the base of his throat, where his pulse beats visibly against his skin.
You press your palm to his chest. Feel his heartbeat beneath your hand, strong and quick. His skin is warm, warmer than the air, and you let your hand slide down, over his stomach, stopping at the waistband of his jeans.
His hand covers yours. His fingers intertwine with yours, pressing your palm against the button of his jeans.
"I want to feel you," he says. His voice is rough, the words scraping past something raw in his throat. "I want to feel all of you. I want to-" He stops. Swallows. Starts again, his hand tightening around yours. "I want to be close to you. As close as I can get."
You unfasten his jeans. The button gives easily, the zipper sliding down with a sound that cuts through the silence. You push the denim down his hips, and he steps out of them, kicking them aside, standing in just his boxers in the pale silver light.
Joe's hands find your waist again. This time, he doesn't stop at your bra. His fingers find the clasp at your back, unhook it with a practised ease that makes you smile in the dark, and the straps slide down your shoulders. You let it fall, let it join the pile on the floor, and stand before him bare from the waist up.
His hands come up to cup your breasts. His thumbs brush across your nipples, once, twice, a touch so light it makes you shiver. He watches his own hands, watches the way your breath hitches at his touch, and you see something shift in his expression - a hunger surfacing, raw and honest and unguarded.
"I missed your hands," you say. The words come out before you can stop them, a confession you hadn't meant to make.
He looks up at you. His eyes are dark, the pupils wide, the hazel nearly swallowed by black. He doesn't say anything. He just pulls you closer, his mouth finding yours, and the kiss is different this time - harder, needier, his tongue sliding against yours with a desperation that borders on bruising.
His hands slide down your back, over your ass, gripping you through your joggers. He pulls you against him, and you feel him - hard, pressing against your hip through the thin fabric of his boxers. The evidence of his desire, unguarded, unmistakable.
You break the kiss. Step back. Your hands find the waistband of your joggers, push them down along with your underwear, and step out of them. You're naked now, standing in the dark room with the streetlight painting your body in silver, and you watch his gaze travel over you - your thighs, your hips, the curve of your stomach, the dark patch of hair between your legs.
Joe's boxers follow. He pushes them down, kicks them aside, and stands before you in the same silver light, his cock hard and waiting, the tip glistening in the dim glow.
You reach out. Your fingers wrap around him, light at first, just a touch, a greeting. He's warm in your hand, solid, and you feel the tremor that runs through his body at the contact. His head falls back, his eyes closing, his hand finding your shoulder for balance.
"I want you inside me," you say.
The words hang in the air, simple and direct, and you feel the effect they have on him - the way his breath catches, the way his cock twitches in your hand, the way his hand tightens on your shoulder.
You lead him backwards to the bed. Your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and you climb onto it; the sheets cool against your skin. You lay back, your hair spreading across the pillow, your legs parting in an invitation that needs no words.
He follows you onto the bed, his body covering yours, his weight a familiar pressure. His elbows bracket your head, his forearms taking his weight, his chest brushing against yours with every breath. He looks down at you, his face inches from yours, his eyes searching your expression for something you can't name.
"Are you sure?" he asks. The question is quiet, almost fragile, the vulnerability from earlier resurfacing.
You reach up. Your hand finds his cheek, your thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone, the curve of his jaw, the corner of his mouth.
"I've never been more sure of anything," you say.
Joe lowers his head, pressing his forehead to yours. His eyes close. He breathes you in - a long, slow inhale that seems to fill him with something he'd been missing. When he opens his eyes, they're soft, full of a tenderness that makes your chest ache.
He shifts his weight. His hand moves between you, guiding himself, and you feel the head of his cock press against you - not inside yet, just resting at your entrance, a question waiting for an answer.
You lift your hips. A small motion, a yes.
He pushes inside you.
The stretch is familiar and new at once, the way your body opens for him, the way he fills you. He moves slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust, his forehead still pressed to yours, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. You feel every increment of his entry, every ridge and vein, the heat of him spreading through you like warmth through cold glass.
When he's fully inside you, he stops. Just stops, his body still, his eyes closed, his breath shivering against your lips.
"I forgot what this felt like," he whispers. "Being this close to someone. Being-" His voice cracks. "Being wanted like this."
You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Your hands find his back, your nails tracing light patterns across his skin, feeling the muscles shift beneath.
"You are wanted," you say. "You're needed. You're mine."
Joe makes a sound - a low, broken groan that seems to come from somewhere deep in his chest — and begins to move.
The rhythm starts slow, a gentle rocking that feels more like grinding than thrusting, a back-and-forth that lets you both find the pace. His mouth finds your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your throat, and you feel the vibration of his moans against your skin. His hand slides between you, his thumb finding your clit, circling in time with his movements.
You arch into his touch, your fingers gripping his shoulders, your breath coming in gasps that match the rhythm of his hips. The pressure builds slowly, a warmth spreading from your core through your limbs, and you feel the familiar coil tightening in your belly.
He lifts his head. Looks at you. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, his lips parted and wet.
"Look at me," he says. His voice is rough, a command wrapped in a plea. "Please. Look at me when you come."
You hold his gaze. Feel the weight of him above you, inside you, the heat of his body and the depth of his need. The coil tightens, tightens, and then breaks - a wave that crashes through you, your body clenching around him, your mouth falling open in a sound you can't contain.
He watches you. His eyes never leave yours, not even as his own climax builds, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, less controlled. He follows you over the edge, his body shuddering above you, his face buried in your neck as he comes with a sound that's half groan, half sob.
His weight settles on you. His breathing is ragged, his heart pounding against your ribs, his cock still inside you, softening. You wrap your arms around him, your hands cradling the back of his head, your fingers threading through his damp hair.
You both lay still, the only sound your breathing, the only movement the rise and fall of your chests. The streetlight casts its steady beam across the bed, illuminating the tangle of sheets, the curve of his spine, the way your hand rests on the back of his neck.
Joe lifts his head. Looks at you. His eyes are red-rimmed, not from crying but from the proximity of it, the closeness of the tears he's already shed and the ones still waiting.
"I love you," he says. The words are simple, stripped of everything but their truth.
You press your lips to his forehead. A kiss, soft and lingering.
"I love you too."
He lowers his head again, his cheek resting on your chest, his ear over your heart. His hand finds yours, your fingers interlocking, and you feel the last of the tension drain from his body - a long, slow exhale that seems to carry the weeks away with it.
The clock ticks in the living room. The radiator clicks. Somewhere outside, a dog barks, distant and irrelevant. The streetlight holds its steady watch, and the dust drifts in the silver light, suspended and unhurried.
Joe's breathing slows into the rhythm of sleep, his hand still holding yours, his body curled around you like you're the only safe harbour in a world that has demanded too much of him.
You press another kiss to his hair, let your eyes close, and hold him through the night.
One spilled coffee. Two strangers running from their own lives. Three impossible coincidences… who says there can’t be one more?
When a struggling film editor crosses paths with Joe Keery on the worst day of their lives, neither expects a brief conversation to stay with them for months. But fate has a strange habit of bringing people back together when they least expect it—and sometimes, a single coincidence is enough to change everything.
warnings: mdni +18, kissing, dry humping, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, squirting, alcohol consumption, age gap, jealousy, miscommunication.
wc: 6k.
Holaaaa, this is my first time writing a story, and English isn’t my first language, so please forgive any grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy reading it!
When Joe and you first met, it was just a coincidence. That evening, you were trying to have some time alone, searching for an escape from the noise and your life crisis. Then you saw a really handsome man who looked like he was in the same situation as you.
“Dammit,” he muttered when he spilled all his coffee all over his T-shirt.
You looked at him for a few seconds, wondering if it was a good idea to help him or just watch him in his deplorable state.
You decided to be a good person and give him some tissues that you had in the back of your purse. “Hey! Here.”
He turned around, and you were mesmerized by his beautiful hazel puppy eyes, which looked incredibly thankful. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
He looked really embarrassed when he said it, but you only gave him a gentle smile and said, “It’s fine, really.”
When Joe saw that smile, he knew you were going to ruin him forever.
You talked a lot that day. As you assumed, he had had a really shitty month and was trying to escape his life for a moment. You think that was the reason you two connected the way you did. Both of you thought you would never get to see each other again after that day, so you just talked and vented about all your life problems.
You had very similar interests, and when he found out you were a film editor, he didn’t waste a second before giving you his number for “future projects.”
No one texted after that day. Both of you wanted to—really wanted to—but your lives were so busy that there was barely time to breathe.
Months passed, and you and your friends decided to go to London to see the Magic Mike Show. You were quite influenced by your best friend Ana, who also convinced your other best friend, Nina. Soon enough, you were watching a good amount of hot men stripping in front of you.
When it finished, both of your friends were drunk and happy, and you had to take care of them while figuring out how the hell you were going to get those silly heads back to the hotel where you were staying.
When Ana was trying to pole dance on a streetlight, you were genuinely thinking of ten different ways to kill her when a beautiful voice that you remembered very well called your name.
You turned around to see Joe staring at you and your now very cheap stripper friends with an amused smile. “Joe? Hi…”
“Hi, angel.”
Then Ana turned around and yelled, “OH MY GOD, STEVE HARRINGTON!”
Now you had twenty different ways to kill her in your mind.
The day you met him, you hadn’t said anything about his fame or the fact that you were a fangirl obsessed with Steve Harrington. He had looked overwhelmed, so it didn’t seem like the perfect time to bring it up.
“Ana, shut the fuck up, please.”
Of course, she didn’t listen and continued yelling.
“BUT LOOK AT HI—”
Nina, who was a little more sober than Ana, put a hand over her mouth to shut her up.
“Well, this is a very interesting situation,” Joe laughed. “Hello, sweethearts. I’m Joe. Nice to meet you. Ana, right?”
Ana looked at him and nodded because she was still being silenced by Nina.
Joe looked at Nina and asked, “And what’s your name, honey?”
“Nina,” she whispered shyly.
“What are you doing here?” you asked with a laugh.
He looked at you and said, “I was going to a bar to get a drink when I saw three beautiful women trying to strip on a streetlight, and then I recognized you.”
You felt quite embarrassed.
“Oh, that’s a very lovely way to meet them.”
You both laughed.
“Actually, yeah.”
He paused and looked at your friends, who were now laughing like mental patients. “You really need to take them back to the hotel.”
You watched Ana fall to the floor because she was laughing so hard. “Yes.”
You looked at him with a pouty face. He knew you didn’t want to leave, and he didn’t want to leave you alone with two drunk friends who ignored your advice.
“I can help you take them back to the hotel.”
Your heart started beating faster than ever.
“You don’t have to. I ca—”
“I want to, and you don’t seem too sober either. I’m taking y’all to your hotel. End of discussion,” he said, smiling.
You couldn’t say no to that smile. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Ana finally moved with Joe’s help, and Nina took your hand as you started walking.
The third coincidence of your lives was that he was staying at the same hotel as you and your friends.
He helped you get Ana and Nina to your room between laughs and jokes. They passed out as soon as they jumped onto the king-sized bed.
Joe and you stepped outside the room and closed the door to say goodbye properly without disturbing your friends’ sleep.
“Thank you so much for everything, Joe.”
“Don’t worry. It was a pleasure to help. They’re really funny,” he laughed.
“No, I want to thank you. You didn’t even get your drink. Let’s go to the bar here in the hotel. It’s on me.”
“No, you don’t have to. I’m okay, rea—”
“I want to. Please.” You gave him your best puppy eyes to convince him.
“Fine, but I’m not going to let you pay for anything.”
The two of you sat down at the bar, and Joe looked at you like he wanted to say something.
“What?” you asked, getting a little red.
“I was thinking about why the hell I didn’t text you after that day,” he admitted.
“You were busy,” you said quietly.
“Maybe, but I really regret not texting you. You’re funny, kind, and beautiful—just like a fallen angel.”
You burst out laughing. “Okay, no more alcohol for you.”
“I meant it, angel.” He looked very sincere, and you got very nervous. Of course, he noticed that nervousness. He noticed everything about you. “I don’t bite, you know?”
“You just caught me off guard,” you replied softly.
A small smile appeared on his face. “Good. It’s nice knowing I can still do that.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your smile behind your glass. “Oh, so that’s your strategy? Flirting your way through every conversation?”
“Only with pretty film editors who disappear for months.”
You laughed, shaking your head.
“I thought about you more times than I’d like to admit.” For the first time that night, he seemed genuinely nervous.
Your heart skipped a beat. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
His eyes met yours again, and suddenly the noise of the bar seemed farther away.
“Every time something happened that made me feel the way I felt when I met you, I thought about you and how much I wanted to text you.”
Neither of you spoke for a moment.
The silence wasn’t awkward.
It was warm.
Comfortable.
Dangerous.
Joe leaned back in his chair, unable to stop smiling. “You’re blushing.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You definitely are.”
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like…” You laughed nervously. “Like that.”
His smile softened. “I can’t help it.”
You looked down at your drink, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
“So…” you said, clearing your throat. “What are you doing in London, anyway?”
Joe sighed and leaned back against his chair. “Work.”
“That bad?”
A laugh escaped him. “No, actually, it’s a great opportunity.”
“But?”
His smile faded slightly. “But it means I’m going to be here for a long time.”
You frowned. “A new role?”
He nodded. “Yeah. A pretty big one.”
“That sounds exciting.”
“It is.”
The answer came too quickly.
You tilted your head. “But?”
He looked at you for a second before chuckling. “You’re really good at that.”
“At what?”
“Knowing when I’m lying.”
You smiled.
Joe looked down at his glass.
“When I first met you, I had just found out about the project. Everyone kept congratulating me, telling me how lucky I was.”
“Weren’t they right?”
“They were.” He paused. “But nobody talks about what comes after.”
You stayed quiet, letting him continue.
“Moving away from home. Being away from my friends. Missing birthdays, dinners, random movie nights…” He shrugged. “Starting over somewhere new.”
Your expression softened. “That sounds lonely.”
“It is.”
His eyes met yours. “But not anymore.”
You frowned. “Why?”
A small smile appeared on his face. “Because now I’m here with the girl I met at that coffee shop.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
“The one who saw me spill coffee all over myself.”
You laughed. “You did look pretty pathetic.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He shook his head, smiling.
“The same girl who handed me tissues, listened to me vent about my life, and somehow managed to make a terrible day one of the best days I’ve had in years.”
You felt your cheeks warming a lot more.
Joe looked at you for a moment before speaking again.
“And now she’s sitting right in front of me, looking so beautiful that I can barely think straight.”
His eyes never left yours.
“And honestly…” He leaned in slightly. “…I want to kiss her so bad.”
Your brain short-circuited. The last thing you expected was for a hot, famous actor to admit he wanted to kiss you.
You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself, so you took a deep breath and smiled.
“If you want it that bad…” you paused, your heart pounding in your chest.
“…then do it.”
He didn’t waste a second and kissed you. It wasn’t sweet. It was hungry, desperate, filled with all the tension that had been building between the two of you that night. The kiss felt like he’d been waiting for this exact moment for far too long and maybe you had been waiting, too.
He tasted like whiskey and sin, and with every passing second you felt the air getting hotter, your thighs squeezed together as you felt yourself getting wet only for his extremely good abilities with his mouth.
When he sliced his tongue inside your mouth you moaned into his mouth and pulled his hair with your hands that were in his neck, he grunted sightly pulling away because Joe knew if he kept going he would fucked you right there with all people watching.
“Let’s get out of here,” You said breathlessly, feeling bolder than before.
“You’re sure?” He whispered softly.
“Yes, please.”
He pecked your lips with a smile on his face before taking your hand and leading you out of the bar toward the elevator.
The right elevator opened quickly, and luckily for you, it was empty. You both entered, and he pressed the button for the fifth floor. When the doors closed, he pulled you closer by the waist into another heated kiss that made your legs tremble. You pulled him down by his hair to your mouth again. He grunted more loudly, and his hand made its way from your waist to squeeze your ass and pull you closer to feel his hard bulge pressed on your belly.
The doors opened again, and he guided you to his hotel room. He unlocked the door with his key card and let you step inside first. He followed you in, and you didn’t even let him close the door before kissing him again desperately.
He kicked the door shut with his back and grabbed your face, deepening the kiss. Emboldened, you slid your hand down to palm him through his jeans.
“Fuck. You’re going to kill me,” he groaned softly.
You smiled against his lips as he guided you toward the bed. You turned him around, pushing him until he sat on the edge. Then you climbed onto his lap, straddling him.
You kissed him again, hungry and eager, grinding down against his growing bulge. The friction pulled a moan from both of you. You could feel how hard he was, and you were hornier than you’d ever been.
When you rolled your hips again, he breathed against your mouth, “Tell me what you want.”
Instead of answering with words, you kissed him one more time, then slid off his lap and dropped to your knees between his legs.
“This,” you whispered, looking up at him. “I want to do this.”
“Oh fuck…” he whimpered. “Baby, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you said, already unbuttoning his jeans. You tugged them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free—thick, long, and already leaking at the tip. You licked your lips.
You wrapped your hand around him and squeezed gently, earning another deep groan. Though his size was a little intimidating, you wanted to thank him for everything he’d done tonight for you and your friends, for every sweet thing he’d said.
You licked a long, slow stripe along the underside of his cock, drawing a broken moan and a curse from Joe. Parting your lips, you swirled your tongue around the sensitive head before taking him into your mouth, sucking gently. You worked him deeper, hollowing your cheeks until he brushed the back of your throat.
“Fuck… Baby, it feels so good,” he rasped.
You hummed around him, the vibration making his hips twitch. Starting a steady rhythm, you bobbed your head while stroking the part you couldn’t fit, never breaking eye contact.
His fingers tangled in your hair not forcing, just holding on. You felt his thighs start to tremble and knew he was getting close, so you pulled off with a wet pop, a thin string of saliva still connecting your lips to his glistening tip.
Joe immediately pulled you up and kissed you hard, tasting himself on your tongue.
You grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and yanked it over his head. He did the same with yours, leaving you in just your red lacy bra.
“Fuck, you’re so hot, baby,” he murmured, lips trailing down your neck as he tugged your skirt down your hips. You kicked off your boots, letting everything fall to the floor.
He pulled you back onto his lap. You smiled, kissing him deeply again, your fingers threading through the patch of dark hair on his chest.
He looked at your chest, still covered by your bra, with a silent question in his eyes. You nodded.
Without hesitation, he reached behind you and unhooked the clasp with one smooth motion. He slid the red lace down your arms and tossed it aside, his gaze darkening as it locked onto your breasts. Your nipples were already hard, begging for attention.
“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, voice low and rough. He cupped your breasts with both hands, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, making you arch into his touch. He teased them gently at first, then rolled them between his fingers, watching your face closely as soft moans escaped your lips.
Without another word, he lowered his head and captured one of your hard nipples in his mouth. He sucked firmly, his tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive peak as he groaned against your skin.
His hand continued playing with your other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. The wet heat of his mouth combined with the sharp pleasure made you moan louder, your back arching as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.
“I wanna ride you, Joe,” you said, breathless.
His eyes darkened with raw hunger. He thought he couldn’t possibly be more turned on by you, until those words left your pretty mouth.
“Fuck,” he growled. “But first I need to get you ready.”
He pulled your panties — the ones that matched your red bra — to the side. You nodded eagerly. Two thick fingers slid through your soaked folds, spreading your wetness before circling your swollen clit, drawing a sharp gasp from you.
Without hesitation, he pushed both fingers inside you. You moaned shamelessly at the delicious stretch. He started pumping them in and out, curling them upward to hit that perfect spot that made you cry out his name again and again.
“Mmm, so good,” you whimpered between moans.
Joe looked up at you with a cocky smile. “Yeah? You like that, baby?”
“Yes… more, please,” you begged.
He sped up, thrusting his fingers deeper, faster. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room as your thighs began to tremble and your walls pulsed around him.
“Fuck, I’m so close,” you moaned.
Suddenly, Joe pulled his fingers out. You whined at the loss, but he only smirked.
“I want you to cum on my cock while you ride me, baby.”
He grabbed your hips as you reached down, lining his thick cock with your entrance. You started sinking down on him slowly. His fat tip stretched you open, the burn intense but so fucking good.
Both of you moaned loudly as he bottomed out inside you. He was so big that he reached deep places no one had ever touched before.
“Shit, baby… You’re so fucking tight,” he whimpered, voice strained.
“Mmm, you’re so big, Joe,” you moaned as you began moving up and down on his cock. He gripped your ass cheeks firmly, helping you bounce on him, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.
When you started riding him faster, he thrust up to meet you, hitting your G-spot perfectly and drawing a loud scream from your throat.
“Right there?” he asked, voice rough.
You could only moan and nod desperately in response. Every powerful thrust made his cock kiss your cervix, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
He could feel how tightly you were clenching around him, your walls pulsing and squeezing his cock like you wanted to milk him dry.
“I’m so close,” you cried out, your voice breaking.
Joe quickly slid his hand between your bodies and rubbed your clit frantically. The added stimulation made you clench even harder around his cock.
“Cum for me, angel,” he growled. “Make a mess on this cock.”
His dirty words were all it took to push you over the edge. Pleasure crashed over you in powerful waves, your whole body shaking as you cried out his name, coming hard around him.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he moaned, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Where do you want it?”
“Inside,” you whispered breathlessly.
Joe groaned loudly and buried himself deep as he came, but the moment he started cumming, flooding your pussy with thick, hot spurts of cum, you lost control completely. A second, much stronger orgasm crashed through you. Your whole body tensed as you squirted hard around his cock, soaking his lap and the sheets beneath you while moaning loudly.
“Fuck,” you heard him groan as you squirted all over him, your release soaking his cock, his thighs, and the sheets beneath you.
Joe kept holding you tightly through it, letting you ride out every last wave until your body finally started to relax. Your breathing was ragged, your legs trembling as you collapsed against his chest.
Both of you stayed like that for a long moment, still joined together, breathing heavily. His arms wrapped around your back, one hand gently stroking your spine as your heartbeats slowly calmed down. Soft kisses were pressed to your shoulder and neck while you tried to catch your breath.
“Damn, baby…” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse and satisfied. “You’re incredible.”
You giggled shyly, burying your face into his neck.
“Hey, don’t get shy after all that, baby,” he said with a soft laugh. “I loved it.”
“Yeah?” you asked, peeking up at him.
“Yeah.” He smiled and kissed you tenderly. Slowly, he pulled out of you, and a mix of both your fluids and his cum leaked out, dripping down your thighs.
“We definitely made a mess,” he chuckled. You both burst into laughter as he held you close.
Still smiling, Joe stood up with you in his arms and carried you to the bathroom for a warm bath.
After you both were clean and dry, Joe took your hand and led you back to the bed. He pulled the covers back and you both slipped in together, completely naked.
Instead of falling asleep right away, you turned to face each other. For a long while, you simply lay there in comfortable silence, staring at one another with soft smiles on your faces.
Joe’s eyes were warm and tender as they stayed locked on yours. You couldn’t help but smile wider, feeling a flutter in your chest. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek for a moment, but neither of you said a word. You just kept gazing at each other, peaceful and content, letting the quiet moment wrap around you.
“Aren’t you sleepy?” he asked, that playful grin on his face that made you weak.
“Mhm, maybe…” you answered softly, blushing as you looked at him.
Just then, your phone buzzed four times in a row on the nightstand. You reached over and checked the messages. It was Nina.
Nina:
Where the hell are you??
Hello???
Are you alright?
Bitch answer me!!
Joe glanced at your phone and let out a soft sigh, his expression turning slightly sad.
“Maybe you should go,” he said quietly. “She’s worried.”
You nodded, even though you didn’t really want to leave. You both got up and got dressed quickly. Joe walked you to the door, holding your hand the whole way.
Before you opened it, he gently pulled you back and cupped your face with both hands.
“Hey… I don’t want this to be just a one night thing,” he said, looking straight into your eyes. “I really like you. A lot. I want to keep seeing you… if you want that too.”
A warm smile spread across your face.
“I’d like that,” you whispered.
Joe’s face lit up. He leaned in and kissed you slowly, deeply, like he didn’t want to let you go. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours for a second.
“Text me when you get to your room, okay?”
You nodded, gave him one last quick kiss, and slipped out the door.
The moment you entered your room, Nina was sitting on the bed with her arms crossed, staring at you.
“Girl… where the hell were you?! I’ve been texting you like crazy!” she said, half worried and half amused. “Don’t tell me you were with Joe this whole time…”
Your face reveal her everything, cause you weren’t good at control your face expressions in situations like this.
“Oh my god.” she was genuinely in shock. “you fucked him”
Your face must have revealed everything, because you were never good at hiding your expressions in moments like this.
“Oh my god…” Nina’s eyes widened in genuine shock. “You fucked him.”
“Shhh!” you quickly whispered, closing the door behind you. “Lower your voice, Ana is still sleeping.”
Nina sat up straighter on the bed, clearly dying for details. “Okay but, he’s like eight years older than you. Are you okay? How was it?”
You sat down next to her and told her everything; how it started, how sweet and intense Joe was, the way he looked at you, and everything that happened in his room. You even told her about the conversation at the door.
When you finished, you let out a nervous sigh.
“I don’t know, Nina… I’ve never done something like this before. What if I ruin everything? What if it was just a one time thing for him and—”
“Hey, stop,” Nina interrupted softly, grabbing your hands. “First of all, you’re glowing. Second, from everything you just told me, that guy is clearly into you. The way you described how he kissed you at the door? That wasn’t just ‘thanks for the sex’ energy. He likes you. Relax, okay? You deserve this. Just enjoy it.”
Her words made you feel a lot lighter. You smiled shyly.
“Thank you,” you whispered.
Nina grinned. “Now let’s go to sleep before you start overthinking again.”
You both lay down, still giggling quietly as you looked over at Ana, who was completely knocked out, mouth slightly open, dead to the world.
“She’s been sleeping like a rock this whole time,” Nina whispered, trying not to laugh. “We could’ve had a full party in here and she wouldn’t have moved.”
You both muffled your laughter under the covers. Once you calmed down a bit, you reached for your phone and quickly typed a message to Joe.
You:
Just got to my room safe
Nina didn’t kill me, so you can relax.
Goodnight
You smiled when you saw his reply almost immediately.
Joe:
Glad you’re safe.
Sleep well, beautiful. I’ll text you tomorrow.
That little exchange made your heart flutter. You put your phone down and turned off the lamp.
You and Nina whispered a little more until sleep finally took over, both of you falling asleep with soft smiles on your faces.
Two months had passed since that night. What started as a simple situationship had grown into something constant and warm. You and Joe texted every day — good morning messages, good night voice notes, endless conversations about everything and nothing. You shared stupid jokes, long FaceTimes, and increasingly explicit chats.
He would tell you in detail everything he wanted to do to you when he saw you again, and you’d send him teasing photos that were sexy enough to drive him crazy from afar.
It felt good. Too good.
Until one morning.
You woke up, stretched lazily in bed, and reached for your phone like any other day. The screen lit up with dozens of notifications. At first, you smiled sleepily, expecting a good morning text from Joe.
Instead, your stomach dropped like a stone.
Multiple gossip pages and fan accounts were posting the same story:
“Joe Keery spotted with Emily Bear in London. Are they dating?”
There were photos. Clear, high-quality shots of them walking side by side, laughing. One picture showed them coming out of a cozy vinyl store in Soho, Joe holding the door for her, both of them smiling. The headlines were ruthless: “New romance after months of mystery?”, “Emily Bear — the new girl in Joe Keery’s life?”
Your chest tightened. You scrolled through the comments, each one feeling like a punch.
You didn’t reply to his “Good morning, beautiful” that day. Nor the next. Every time his name popped up on your screen, your throat closed up. You felt stupid. Angry. Embarrassed. Maybe he does this with everyone, you thought. Maybe you were just a game for him.
Later that afternoon, you were at Nina’s apartment, curled up on her couch with a cup of tea you hadn’t touched. Your best friend sat beside you, scrolling through the same articles on her own phone.
“Girl… I saw it,” Nina said softly, glancing at you with concern. “But honestly? I don’t think they’re together. Like, at all. The way he was looking at you that night? He was genuinely interested. It wasn’t just vibes, it was obvious.”
You stared at the floor, hugging a pillow tighter against your chest.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Nina,” you muttered, voice cracking a little. “Please. I just… I can’t.”
Nina opened her mouth to say something else but closed it again, respecting your silence. She simply rubbed your back while you kept refreshing the articles, torturing yourself with every new comment.
Meanwhile, in London sitting in his new apartment, Joe was losing his mind.
He kept checking his phone every five minutes, the screen lighting up his face in the dim room. Nothing. No reply. Not even a “seen” on some messages. His leg bounced anxiously as he paced near the window.
His manager, had been talking non-stop for the last twenty minutes, walking back and forth with his own phone in hand.
“—and now it’s trending on Twitter. People are making edits of you and Emily. The label wants a statement if it keeps blowing up. Joe, are you even listening?”
Joe barely heard him. He opened your chat again, staring at the last message he’d sent. Read. No answer. His chest ached every time he reread your previous reply from that morning:
You:
Maybe it’s better if we slow down a bit. You’re already dealing with a lot of rumors and I don’t want to add more problems.
Those words had hit him like a slap. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his messy hair. It hurt. It really fucking hurt. Because none of it was true.
He had randomly bumped into Emily on the street. She was struggling to find a specific vinyl store she’d been looking for for months. He helped her, they talked for maybe fifteen minutes , mostly about music, and that was it. Nothing more. No sparks. No chemistry. Just a polite, friendly encounter that paparazzi had twisted into a whole narrative.
But now you were pulling away, believing the rumors instead of him.
“Joe,” his manager sighed, “you gotta tell me what’s going on with this girl you’ve been seeing. Is she the reason you look like you haven’t slept?”
Joe didn’t answer right away. He just stared at his phone again, willing it to light up with your name. The silence from you was louder than any rumor.
He typed another message, then deleted it. Typed again. Deleted.
All he could think about was how much he missed your voice, your laugh, the way you looked at him like he was just… Joe. Not the actor, not the guy from Stranger Things.
Just him.
And right now, that version of him felt like he had lost you before he even had you completely.
Three more months passed.
You threw yourself into work to avoid thinking about him.
What you hadn’t told Joe was that, although you studied film with a focus on editing, you had also trained in acting.
Now you were in London for a new independent project. You arrived at the studio on your first day and immediately noticed the chaos.
The director, James — a flamboyant, colorful, and extremely dramatic gay man who wore the brightest clothes imaginable — was having a full meltdown.
“None of them feel it!” he exclaimed, waving his hands. “I need chemistry, I need connection, I need longing! Why is this so difficult?!”
You stayed quiet in the corner, reading the script while James continued his theatrical complaints.
Then you felt it.
Someone was staring at you.
You looked up and your heart stopped.
Joe was standing a few meters away, looking at you with the same shock you felt. For a few seconds, you just stared at each other in silence.
He approached slowly.
“…Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper.
Joe took a couple of steps closer. Before he could say anything else, you glanced at the script in your hands and then back at him.
“So… this is the big role you were telling me about months ago?” you asked, trying to sound casual even though your chest felt tight.
“Yeah,” he answered with a small smile. “This is it. I didn’t know you were working on it too.”
You nodded. “I was called in for the editing department. They needed a head editor who could also help with script adjustments. I had no idea this was your project.”
There was a brief silence. His eyes lingered on your face, full of unspoken words. It was clear he had missed you, a lot. You could see it. You, however, still felt that sting from everything that happened. Even so, being this close to him again made it hard to stay indifferent.
There was a short silence between you. His eyes stayed on yours, full of longing. You could tell he had missed you. You tried to ignore the knot in your stomach and changed the subject.
“By the way… why doesn’t James like any of the actresses?” you asked, genuinely curious. “What exactly is he looking for? He seems really frustrated.”
Joe let out a small sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
“He keeps saying none of them have the right chemistry. He wants real tension, longing, something deep and emotional. He says he needs to feel it when the actors look at each other. So far no one has given him that.”
The moment he finished speaking, James clapped his hands so loudly that the entire room went quiet.
“YES! THAT! THAT RIGHT THERE!” he shouted dramatically, pointing straight at both of you. “Those eyes! That tension! That connection! That’s exactly what I’ve been looking for this whole time!”
He marched toward you with big theatrical steps, his colorful outfit flowing behind him.
“You!” he exclaimed, pointing at you with excitement. “I want YOU for the role. Forget every other girl I’ve seen today. This… THIS is what I’ve been waiting for!”
James turned to his assistant with the same energy.
“Get her the contract right now! We’ve found our leading lady!”
You literally panicked.
“Wait, James, there must be a misunderstanding,” you said quickly, raising your hands. “I’m here for the editing department. I’m not an actress. I came to edit, not to act.”
James waved his hand dramatically, completely unbothered.
“I don’t care, darling! You have exactly what I need. If I have to pay you double, I will. But you are not escaping this. You are my new leading lady!”
You looked at Joe for help, but he was standing beside you looking completely stunned. His face showed a mix of surprise, confusion, and something deeper. The girl he had been secretly seeing for months was now going to be his co-star. This was going to be complicated.
After a long and passionate conversation with James in private, you finally accepted the role.
He had spent nearly twenty minutes explaining his vision for the film with dramatic gestures and sparkling eyes. He told you how important this project was to him and how he had been searching for weeks for the perfect actress who could bring real emotional depth to the character. Most of all, he kept praising the undeniable chemistry he had seen between you and Joe.
“You two have something natural, something raw,” he said, placing a hand over his heart. “When you look at each other… the air changes. That’s what I’ve been desperate to capture.”
You hesitated for a long time, explaining your concerns about balancing editing duties with acting, but James was relentless in the best way possible. He promised to adjust your schedule, offered to pay you significantly more, and even said he would bring in extra support for the editing team if needed.
Eventually, you gave in.
The moment you said yes, James asked about your background. When you told him that, although your main focus had always been editing and directing, you had also trained in acting during your film studies, his reaction was priceless.
He dramatically placed both hands on his cheeks, eyes wide.
“No… you’re joking!” he gasped. Then he actually looked like he was about to cry from pure joy. “This is fate! Absolute fate! Not only do you have the look and the chemistry, but you actually know how to act? Darling, the universe is smiling on this production!”
He pulled you into a big, theatrical hug, practically vibrating with excitement.
Later that afternoon, as you were leaving the building, Joe caught up with you in a quiet corner near the exit.
You both stopped, facing each other. The air felt heavy.
“So…” Joe started, clearly tense. “This is going to be interesting.”
You crossed your arms, still hurt from the rumors months ago. “Yeah. Looks like it.”
Joe took a breath. “Look, I have no problem acting with you. We’re both professionals.”
“Neither do I,” you replied, trying to sound firm. “As long as we keep it strictly professional. No complications. No personal feelings involved.”
Joe looked at you for a long second. You could feel the strong sexual tension crackling between you, the same attraction that had always been there, now even stronger after months apart. But both of you were hurt, you because you still believed there was something with Emily, and him because you had suddenly disappeared without giving him a chance to explain.
“Alright,” he said quietly, though his eyes said something completely different. “Strictly professional.”
You nodded
“See you on set, then.”
You turned and walked away toward your car. Once inside, you closed the door, leaned your head back against the seat, and let out a long, deep sigh. Your heart was racing.
Summary: Newcomer on the Hollywood scene isn’t easy, but when you have a co-star who’s willing to help you out in more ways than one, it makes it easier.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, masturbation (f receiving), p in v, oral, kissing
The compatibility meeting room felt smaller than it should have but it was far from it. You'd been in plenty of audition spaces before, all cramped boxes or Zoom meetings but this was different. This was a sleek, modern conference room in a production office in Burbank, all glass walls and white furniture, and you were about to meet your film partner. That itself made you realise the scale of this movie.
You'd gotten the call three weeks ago. Your agent had been practically screaming into the phone that it was a lead role, a major studio romance, opposite someone who had become a household name and that you NEEDED it. You'd done smaller parts before, a recurring character on a streaming series, a supporting role in an indie film that played at Sundance but nothing like this. Nothing that would put your name on a poster next to someone people actually recognised.
The door opened and your stomach dropped. He walked in with the director, Laura Chen, who you'd met briefly during your final callback but you barely registered her presence because Joe was right there, in a faded band t-shirt and jeans, hair slightly messy and he was even more attractive in person than on screen. Which seemed impossible, but there it was. They were both laughing at something until they both locked eyes with yours.
"Hey" he said, and his smile was warm. He extended his hand, "I'm Joe. It's really great to meet you".
Your hand met his and you tried not to think about how warm his palm was, how his fingers wrapped around yours with just the right amount of pressure. "Hi. Yeah, you too. I'm, well, you know who I am".
He laughed, and it was an easy sound that made something in your chest relax slightly like you'd known each other for years. "I do. I've watched your stuff. You're really talented".
Heat crept up your neck, "Thanks. I, um, I've seen your work too. Obviously...".
"Obviously" he repeated in a teasing tone, and you caught the glint in his eye that told you he wasn't being arrogant, just playful.
Laura cleared her throat, "Alright, you two. Let's sit down and talk about this project, shall we?".
The next hour passed in a blur of script discussion, character motivation, and what Laura called vibe checking, making sure you and Joe could actually stand to be around each other for the next three months of production. It turned out you could. More than that, actually. He was funny, thoughtful about the material, and asked you questions about your character's perspective that showed he'd actually read the script carefully.
"I think the key moment" Joe said at one point, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, "is when they realise they're not just playing at this anymore. Like, they've been pretending to be in love for the cameras, but then there's that scene in the rain where it becomes real. I like how much it feels like the book too".
You nodded, trying to ignore how his eyes seemed to hold yours a beat longer than necessary. "Right, yeah. It's like the performance becomes the truth".
"Exactly" His smile widened, "I think we're going to do something really special with this".
When the meeting ended and you walked out to your car, you sat in the driver's seat for a full five minutes before starting the engine, trying to calm your racing heart. It was just a meeting. Just work. Just acting. But god, he was attractive, and actually nice. How the hell are you going to do this?
Table reads started the following Monday. The cast gathered in a rehearsal space in Studio City, scripts in hand, coffee and pastries spread across a long table. You'd arrived early, the nervous energy making it impossible to sleep past 6am, and you'd found a seat with your name near the middle of the table, and when Joe walked in 20 minutes later, he made a beeline for the chair next to you with his name.
The read through itself went better than you'd hoped. The script was good, you'd known that already, you'd read it through probably like five times, but hearing it out loud with the cast made it come alive. And the scenes between you and Joe crackled with something you couldn't quite name. Chemistry maybe, or maybe you were just a better actor than you gave yourself credit for. He had this little notebook with him, jotting notes through the read. You couldn't make out what was being written, but you assumed maybe things he had thought of to enhance his performance as the character, things he can do. You'd never known anyone like that before.
During the lunch break, Joe appeared at your elbow as you were debating between two different salad options at the catering table.
"Get the caesar" he said. "The other one looks...questionable...a little sad".
You laughed, "Does salad have emotions now?"
"Absolutely, and that one is definitely depressed" He grabbed a sandwich and a bag of chips. "You want to run lines later? After we're done here?".
Your heart did a stupid little flip, "Yeah sure. That would be great".
"Cool. There's a coffee shop around the corner that's usually pretty quiet".
So that's how it started. Coffee shop line rehearsals that turned into conversations about everything else like where you grew up, what got you into acting, favourite films, worst audition stories. You learned that Joe had played in a band, that he was from Massachusetts, that he had a dry sense of humour that made you laugh when you least expected it. You also learned over the course of that week, that he was even more talented than you'd realised. You'd gone home and pulled up his filmography, watching episodes and films late into the night of things you hadn't seen before. The range he had, the way he could be funny and heartbreaking in the same scene, it was beautiful to watch.
By Friday, the table reads were done and you'd gotten comfortable with each other. Inside jokes had formed, you knew how he took his coffee (black usually, but with cream if he was tired). He knew you had a habit of fidgeting with your script pages when you were nervous.
"You're going to be great" he said as you were packing up on that last day, and something in his voice made you believe it.
Filming began on a Tuesday in late September. The first week was mostly establishing shots, scenes with the supporting cast, technical stuff that didn't require much from you emotionally. But even those early days, you could feel the way you and Joe just worked together. The director kept praising your natural chemistry, how you barely needed multiple takes because you were so in sync.
"It's like you've known each other for years" Laura said after you nailed a scene on the second take, "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it".
What you were doing, apparently, was developing a massive crush.
It was said in acting school, it was said in the industry, it was said everywhere. 'Do not fall in love with your costars, it never lasts and makes things messy'.
It was impossible not to, you spent 12 hours a day minimum on set together. He started driving you to work in the mornings, picking you up from your rental apartment with music playing low while you both nursed travel mugs of coffee and talked about the day ahead. He texted you at night with memes, random thoughts, questions about the script. You found yourself checking your phone constantly, smiling at the screen like a teenager again.
You told yourself it was just the intensity of the work. You were playing characters falling in love, of course some of that would bleed over. It was acting, it was normal.
But then there were moments that felt like more. The way his hand would linger on your lower back when he guided you through a doorway, how he'd catch your eye across the set and smile. The time he brought you soup when you mentioned your throat was sore, showing up at your trailer with takeout from a Korean place he swore by.
"You didn't have to do that" you'd said.
"I know" He'd shrugged, hands in his pockets, "I wanted to".
Three weeks into filming, you had your first kiss scene. You'd been dreading it and anticipating it in equal measure. The scene itself was simple, your characters Emma and Daniel finally admitting their feelings after weeks of tension, kissing in the doorway of her apartment.
The morning of the shoot, you woke up with your stomach in knots. You'd kissed people on camera before, it was part of the job but this felt different, and you couldn't pretend you didn't know why.
Joe found you by the snack table, stress eating a blueberry muffin. "Hey" he said softly, "You okay?".
"Yeah. Just, you know. Eating my feelings".
He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Yeah" He grabbed a coffee, added cream. "I get nervous sometimes too before a big scene, I want to get it right. For the scene, I mean. It's an important moment for Emma and Daniel".
"Right yeah. Important".
There was a pause, and then he said, "We'll just... see what happens and go with it. I trust you".
Something about those three words, I trust you, settled your nerves more than anything else could have.
When they called you to set, you took your positions. Laura walked you through the blocking one more time, even though you both knew it by heart. The lighting was adjusted and the camera rolled.
"Action!"
You delivered your line, the one about being scared of ruining the friendship whilst standing in the living area. Joe stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup your face, and said his line about being more scared of never knowing what this could be, and then he kissed you.
You'd prepared yourself for it to be a hit your mark, angle your head correctly, make it look good for the camera but the moment his lips met yours, all of that disappeared. Your hands came up to his chest, fisting his shirt, and you kissed him back with everything you had. His other hand slid into your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you forgot there were cameras, forgot there was a crew watching, forgot everything except the taste of him featuring the mint he had beforehand and the way his body pressed against yours.
"Cut!" Laura's voice broke through the haze, "That was... wow. That was perfect".
You pulled back breathless, and found Joe staring at you with his hand was still in your hair.
"Good?" you managed.
"Yeah" His voice was rough, following a cough.
They wanted to do two more takes for coverage, angles for editing and each one felt just as intense. On the last one, after Laura called cut, Joe's lips lingered on yours for a few extra seconds. Not long enough for anyone else to notice, probably, but you noticed.
That night when alone in your apartment, you couldn't stop thinking about it. You replayed each and every kiss over and over, analysing every moment. The way he'd touched you, the sound he'd made that probably hadn't been picked up by the microphones, how it had felt so real, so far beyond acting. But it was. He was acting, he's good at his job.
You tried to watch TV, tried to read, tried to do anything to distract yourself. Eventually you gave up and went to bed, but sleep wouldn't come. Your body was still humming with tension from the day, and before you could even comprehend what you was currently thinking and doing, your hand slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, and when his name left your lips in a moan when you came, you knew this might now be a big problem...
The next few weeks were torture in the best possible way. There were more kissing scenes, the script called for several as Emma and Daniel's relationship developed. Each one more passionate than the first. You'd be in the middle of a take, Joe's mouth on yours, his hands on your waist, in your hair, in your back pocket, and you'd forget where the performance ended and your real feelings began.
Off camera, things intensified too. The texting became constant, he started sending you songs, saying they reminded him of you or of the characters. You'd send him articles you thought he'd find interesting, screenshots of funny tweets, photos of your coffee when he'd guessed your order wrong that morning (he'd been offended and insisted on buying you the right one).
You started riding to set together to things other than just work. Sometimes breakfast if you were due on set later in the day, and you'd eat in the car, stealing his hash browns even though you'd said you weren't hungry. He'd retaliate by drinking half your coffee even though he hated it.
"You're a troublemaker" you told him one morning, watching him take a long sip from your cup.
"What you going to do about it? You love it" he shot back, grinning.
The problem was, you kind of did.
One afternoon between takes, you were sitting in your trailer trying to cool down. It was unseasonably hot and the scene you'd just shot had involved running, a shot you unfortunately had to film several times when your phone buzzed.
Joe
You were really good today
You
Thanks. You too!
Joe
The way you played that moment when she realises he's been lying... I believed every second of it. I hope you haven't had real life experience on that one.
You
That means a lot coming from you
You
Unfortunately you might be on to something there
Joe
You're incredible. I feel lucky I get to do this with you
Joe
Well, it sucks to be them. Missed opportunity.
You didn't know how to respond to that, so you sent back a heart emoji and immediately regretted it. Too much? Not enough? Why was texting suddenly so complicated?
He sent back two heart emojis, and you laughed.
Four weeks into filming, Laura pulled you aside after a particularly emotional scene.
"I don't know what you two are doing" she said, "But the chemistry is off the charts. The studio is thrilled. They're already talking about the marketing campaign, how they want to build it around you and Joe. I'm so glad I chose the two of you".
"Oh" you said, trying to sound professional and not like your heart was racing, "That's great!".
"It is. Just... keep doing what you're doing. Whatever this is, it's working!".
Whatever this is. You wished you knew.
That night, Joe texted asking if you wanted to grab dinner. Nothing fancy, just this taco place he liked nearby his place. You said yes immediately, and spent an embarrassing amount of time picking out an outfit before reminding yourself this wasn't a date, it was just coworkers getting food and probably discussing work.
Except... it felt like a date. You sat across from each other in a booth, sharing an order of nachos, talking and laughing until the restaurant started closing down around you. He told you about his band, about the music he had been working on. You told him about your family, about why you'd gotten into acting in the first place.
"I just always felt like I was playing a part anyway" you admitted. "Like I was trying to figure out who I was supposed to be. Acting was the only time I felt like I could be honest, weirdly, but it's because it was through someone else".
Joe nodded slowly, "That makes sense, I think a lot of people resonate with that".
His foot bumped yours under the table, and you weren't sure if it was an accident or not, but it stayed there.
When he drove you home, he walked you to your door even though you told him he didn't have to.
"I wanted to" he said, echoing his words from weeks ago.
You stood there in the dim light of your building's entrance, keys in hand, trying to think of a reason for him to stay longer.
"Thanks for dinner, it was really good" you finally said.
"Anytime" He smiled, "See you tomorrow?".
"Yeah, tomorrow"
You watched him walk back to his car, and tried not to think about how much you'd wanted him to kiss you for real this time.
The email came on a Friday, the shooting schedule for the following week. You scrolled through it, noting your call times, and then stopped.
Tuesday: Bedroom scene (Emma/Daniel). Intimacy coordinator on set. Closed set. Call time: 7:30am.
Your stomach flipped. You knew this scene was coming. You'd read the script, obviously. Emma and Daniel's first time being intimate, though it wasn't too explicit, the scene focused on the emotional vulnerability, the trust in the relationship. The script described them kissing, clothes coming off, and then Daniel going down on Emma, bringing her to orgasm before the scene faded out. Luckily, all undercover but it still had to happen. It was a crucial moment for the characters. It was also going to involve being mostly naked with him, simulating sex acts, all with people watching.
Your phone buzzed.
Joe
Saw the schedule
Joe
Can't believe we're this far in already
You
Yeah, me neither
Joe
You want to talk about it? The scene?
You
We probably should at some point
Joe
Dinner tomorrow? There's this place downtown I've been wanting to try
You
Sounds good
You
Nothing like talking sex and intimacy whilst in the middle of a restaurant
You
Although saying that, can't be worse than part of the crew seeing me basically stark naked
Joe
There shouldn't be too many of us, it's a closed set
You spent the rest of the day trying not to think about it, which of course meant you thought about nothing else.
The restaurant was nicer than the places you usually went with white tablecloths and a wine list that made your eyes widen at the prices. Joe had made a reservation, and the host led you to a quiet corner table. Now this definitely felt like a date.
"This okay?" Joe asked as you sat down. "I figured we could use somewhere we could actually talk without being interrupted, or too public".
"It's perfect"
You ordered a bottle of wine between the two of you, and then there was a moment of silence as you both seemed to gather your thoughts.
"So" Joe started, "Tuesday".
"Tuesday..." you echoed.
"I want to make sure you're comfortable with everything. I know we have the intimacy coordinator, and we'll go over all the boundaries and choreography, but... I want to hear from you. What you need. I'm not sure if you've done a seen similar before or not".
Your chest tightened with affection. "I appreciate that. Honestly, I'm just nervous, yeah I've never done a scene like this before. Kissing? Yeah whatever. But this, never".
"Neither have I actually. Not to this extent anyway".
That surprised you, "Really?"
"Really" He took a sip of his wine. "I mean, I've done kissing scenes, and back at the beginning I did like a very cringeworthy jacking off scene under the sheets, but not this. I guess they're seeing more of you than they do of me, so yeah. Whatever you need me to do to make you feel safe and comfortable, please do".
"Same" you said softly, "I trust you, we can help each other...relax".
The waiter appeared with your food, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics like a funny thing that had happened on set and a movie you both wanted to see but underneath it all, there was a current of tension, anticipation.
When he drove you home that night, he walked you to your door again. "We're going to be fine" he said, "It's just another scene".
"Just another scene".
But you both knew it wasn't.
He hesitated, and for a moment you thought he might kiss you. Instead, he squeezed your hand, "Goodnight" he said.
"Goodnight"
Tuesday morning arrived too quickly. You got to set early, nerves making it impossible to sleep. The intimacy coordinator, Sarah, was already there, walking you through everything in detail. The modesty garments you'd both wear, the choreography of it all like you were doing some dance scene. You'd start by straddling him on the bed, both under the covers. Kissing, hands moving over each other's bodies, then he'd flip you onto your back, and his hand would move between your legs but it would all be simulated, his hand making motions above the modesty patch, never actually touching you.
"The key is to make it look real while maintaining everyone's boundaries" Sarah explained. "We'll do this in stages, and you can call cut at any time if you need a break. This is a closed set so only essential crew and we'll have a robe ready for you between takes. Have you spoken with Joe about today?".
You nodded as Joe arrived, and Sarah went through everything again with the both of you. He listened carefully, asking questions, making sure he understood exactly what was okay and what wasn't.
"Any further questions?" Sarah asked finally.
You shook your head and Joe did the same.
"Alright. Let's get you both into wardrobe and we'll start with a rehearsal. Probably will take a few tries at the start to get to grips with things I'll be honest so you'll likely see more of each other than you envisioned. More of you" Sarah pointed at you, "Rather than him".
"It's fine. I trust him. I'm confident enough" you smiled and nodded.
"Girl, with a body like yours and your confidence when acting. I wish I was you" Sarah chuckled, rubbing her hand over your arm, and you just smiled.
The bedroom set was intimate, dressed to look like Daniel's apartment. The bed was large, covered in crinkled sheets that were meant to suggest they'd already been at this for a while. You put on the garments and a robe, and tried not to feel self conscious. When you emerged from behind the screen, Joe was already on set in his own robe, talking quietly with Laura.
His eyes found yours and he smiled.
"Ready?" Laura asked.
"Ready" you both said.
"We're just going to do the making out, undressing, feeling where this is going before we go further".
The first take was awkward, as first takes of intimate scenes always are. You were hyperaware of every movement, every touch, even about your breath even though you near enough inhaled a pack of mints beforehand. It was where to put your hands, how to angle your body, making sure the covers stayed in place. Joe was careful, almost too careful.
"Cut!" Laura called. "That was good for blocking but let's try to relax into it a bit more. Remember, these are two people who are crazy about each other. They've been building to this moment for a while. Let that inform the physicality of it. Remember you can cut anytime you need it".
You nodded, taking a breath.
The second take was better. You let yourself sink into the character, into Emma's headspace of nervous but wanting this, wanting him. When you straddled Joe, you let your hands move over his chest, his shoulders, up his neck with more confidence. His hands came up to your waist, your back, pulling you closer. The kiss was deep and heated.
"Better" Laura said, "Let's keep going. Let's try the next part, stop if you need too".
You did the scene several more times, each take building in intensity. By the fifth take, you'd almost forgotten about the cameras. Joe's hands were in your hair, on your skin, and you were making small sounds that weren't entirely acting. When he flipped you onto your back, his body covering yours, you felt the heat of him but I guess it's hard not too when your perked nipples were pressing against his chest.
This part was the part which had your heart racing faster than it already was. His hand moved between your legs, making the motions Sarah had choreographed with him whilst passionately kissing. You arched into the touch, playing Emma's pleasure, and it wasn't hard because your body was responding even though he wasn't actually touching you.
"Cut!" Laura called, "That was great guys. Let's break for lunch and we'll pick this up after".
You separated quickly, both reaching for your robes being handed to you. There was a moment where your eyes met, and something passed between you. Acknowledgment maybe? of how intense that had been.
"You doing okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah, fine. You okay?"
"Yeah”
But you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was tight.
Lunch was a blur. You barely touched your food, everything inside you was heightened and last thing you wanted was bad breath and bloating. Joe sat with you but the usual easy conversation was non-existant. You were both thinking about the afternoon ahead and getting back into that bed.
When you returned to set, Laura wanted to run through the scene a few more times to get different angles. You did, and each take felt different than the last. By the time she called it a day, you were exhausted, physically and emotionally.
"We'll pick this up tomorrow if that's okay?" Laura said, "Get some rest. Same time".
In your trailer, you changed back into your regular clothes and checked your phone. No messages from Joe which was unusual. Normally he'd have texted by now, some joke or observation about the day but you tried not to read into it.
That night, you laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, replaying the day. The way Joe had touched you, looked at you, how your body had responded. It had felt real in a way that scared you. Your phone stayed silent.
The next morning, Joe was already on set when you arrived. He looked tired, like maybe he hadn't slept well either.
"Hey" you said carefully.
"Hey" He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, "Ready for round two?".
"As I'll ever be".
When you'd woken up that morning, you'd known something was different. Joe hadn't texted you the night before, the first time since you'd started this routine of constant communication. You'd stared at your phone for an hour before finally falling into restless sleep, wondering if you'd done something wrong, if the intensity of yesterday's filming had been too much. But now, standing on set with Sarah running through the choreography again, you could feel the shift in the air. Joe was quieter than usual, more focused. His eyes kept finding yours, holding your gaze for seconds longer than necessary, and there was something in them you couldn't quite read.
"Remember" Sarah was saying, "Same as yesterday. The modesty garments stay in place, Joe's hand movements stay above the barrier. We're looking for the illusion of intimacy under the covers, passionate kissing, when you undress her Joe, sensual and slow".
You both nodded, but when your eyes met Joe's, you saw the flicker of something that made your breath catch.
When Laura called action and you took your position laying next to him before he pulled you across to straddle him, everything felt heightened. Your skin was hypersensitive, every point of contact between your bodies felt electric. The kiss started the same as yesterday, slow which turned passionate, but then his hands gripped your waist with real possession, fingers digging into your flesh in a way that made you gasp against his mouth instead of the gentleness of yesterday.
This is different, you thought. He's different.
His tongue swept into your mouth, lapping at you and you responded instinctively, your hands fisting in his hair. You could feel him hard beneath you, even through the layers of fabric and modesty garments, and the knowledge sent heat gathering in your lower belly. You were so glad most of you were under the covers.
When he flipped you onto your back, his body covering yours, him pulling the duvet up further, you saw it in his eyes. There was a question. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure everyone could hear it. This was the moment. He was asking permission for something that went far beyond the script, beyond the choreography Sarah had laid out.
You should say no. You should stick to the plan, maintain the professional boundaries but god, you wanted this, wanted him. You had been wanting him for weeks now, through every stolen glance and late night text message. So you gave the smallest nod hoping he would see, hoping it would see it in your eyes if anything, and you know he did as you watched watched his pupils dilate.
His hand moved between your legs, and you felt him shift the modesty patch aside with careful fingers trying not to make it obvious. The first touch of skin on skin made you bite your lip to keep from crying out between kisses. You were already wet, embarrassingly so, and his fingers slid through you with ease.
Oh god. Oh god, this is really happening.
You tried to stay in character, to play Emma's pleasure instead of your own, but it was impossible. This was you, your body, and your response. When his fingers found your clit and began to circle it with perfect pressure, you couldn't stop the moan that escaped your lips.
"That's it" he murmured, so quiet only you could hear, hiding it between kissing. There wasn't a line from the script that included any of this. It was just Joe encouraging you, watching your face with an intensity that made you feel stripped bare in a way that had nothing to do with the lack of clothing on your body. His fingers moved with confidence, he alternated between circling your clit and dipping lower, gathering your wetness, using it to make everything easier. Your hips moved of their own accord, seeking more friction, more pressure, and he gave it to you.
You were dimly aware of the cameras, of Laura watching, of the crew around you but mostly you were aware of Joe and his weight on top of you. When his thumb pressed firmly against your clit while two fingers slid inside you, you couldn't hold back anymore. Your back arched off the bed, your hands clutching at his shoulders, and you came with a gasp that was absolutely, unmistakably real.
He worked you through it, his fingers slowing as the pleasure subsided, and you saw the satisfaction in his face. Not Daniel's satisfaction at pleasing Emma. Joe's satisfaction at pleasuring you.
"Cut!" Laura's voice seemed to come from another dimension. "Perfect! That was absolutely perfect. I think we got it".
Reality crashed back in. You'd just had an orgasm on a film set. With cameras recording. With people watching. You scrambled for your robe, your hands shaking, unable to meet anyone's eyes. Joe was doing the same, but you could feel his gaze on you from behind.
In your trailer afterwards, you sat on the small couch and tried to process what had happened. Your body was still humming, oversensitive and satisfied in a way that made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. Your phone buzzed.
Joe
Are you okay?
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Were you okay? You'd just crossed a massive line, and not a professional line. You'd let him touch you, like, really touch you, in front of a dozen people who had no idea what was actually happening under those covers.
You
I'm fine
You
We should talk
Joe
Yeah. Come over tonight? My place. We can order food, talk, just... figure this out
You
Sure
You spent the rest of the day in a daze, going through the motions of the scenes you had to shoot, most of them were without Joe but you caught him looking at you when when he didn't even have to be here.
When filming wrapped for the day, you went home and showered, changed clothes three times, and tried to calm your racing thoughts. What were you going to say? What was he going to say?
At 7pm, you pulled up to his place, a small house in the hills, rental like yours but nicer. He opened the door before you could knock.
"Hey" he said.
"Hey"
"Come in"
His place was cozy, definitely lived in. Books and records scattered around, a guitar in the corner. He'd ordered Chinese food, and it was spread out on the coffee table.
"I didn't know what you'd want, so I got a bunch of stuff" he said, gesturing to the containers.
"This is great, no, thank you".
You sat on the couch, and for a few minutes you just ate in silence. Finally, Joe set down his fork.
"I'm sorry" he said, "For today. I should have, I shouldn't have done that without talking to you first".
"I nodded" you said quietly, "I gave you permission".
"Still. It was unprofessional. I just-" He ran a hand through his hair. "I couldn't help myself. Being that close to you, touching you, even in a simulated way, it was driving me crazy and I wanted, I wanted to make it real".
Your heart was pounding, "Real? Joe..."
"I like you" he said, the words coming out in a rush. "And I know this is complicated because we're working together, and maybe it's just the intensity of the project, but I can't stop thinking about you. I don't want to stop thinking about you”.
You stared at him, trying to process. "I like you too" you finally said. "I've been trying not to, trying to convince myself it's just the acting, but it's not, is it?".
The smile that broke across his face was something else, "Really?".
"Yeah"
He moved closer, his hand coming up to cup your face, "Can I?".
"Not like you haven't already" you laughed.
This kiss was different from all the ones before. There was no camera, no crew, no script. Just the two of you finally being honest. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your toes curl, and you kissed him back with everything you'd been holding in for weeks.
You ended up in his lap, straddling him like you had on set but without any barriers between you. His hands moved over your body, relearning you without the choreography. And this kiss, well this was definitely hotter than whatever they had filmed.
"Bedroom?" he murmured against your lips.
"Yeah" you breathed.
He stood, lifting you with him, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you down the hall. The bedroom was dark, just the light from the hallway, and he laid you on the bed.
"Is this okay?" he asked, hovering over you.
"More than okay"
He kissed you again whilst his hands worked at the buttons of your top. You helped him, both of you totally impatient, and then you were pulling his shirt over his head, finally getting to touch him the way you'd wanted to. His skin was warm, you traced the lines of his chest, his stomach, and he shuddered under your touch.
"You're so beautiful" he said, looking down at you in just your bra. "I've wanted to tell you that for weeks".
"Tell me now" you whispered, "Tell me everything".
So he did. Between kisses, between touches, he told you how he'd been attracted to you from the first meeting. How watching you act made him want to be better, how he'd been taking cold showers after your kissing scenes because he'd been so turned on, how he'd almost kissed you for real a dozen times. You confessed your own secrets. The night you'd touched yourself thinking about him, gow you'd been half in love with him since he'd brought you soup, how you'd wanted this so badly it scared you.
"Don't be scared" he said, his hand sliding into your hair as you pulled down your bottoms as did he. When he finally pushed inside you, you both groaned at the sensation. He moved slowly at first, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours.
"Okay?" he asked.
"So okay. Don't stop”
He didn't, far from it. He moved with a focus and intensity that left you breathless, learning what you liked, what made you gasp and moan. He seemed to focus on you entirely, making you cum over and over again. Fingers, toungue, cock. He used it all. When you came with him for the last time, it was with his name on your lips and his eyes locked on yours, and it felt like something had shifted between you.
After, you both collapsed next to each other, naked surrounded by duvet covers, pillows and clothes, all sweaty and satisfied. Joe traced patterns on your shoulder, "So" he said. "That happened".
You laughed, "Seems like it".
"I don't want this to be just a set thing, or a one time thing. I want, I want to see where this goes".
You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him. "Me too, but maybe we should be smart about it? Keep it quiet while we're filming, see how we feel when the movie wraps? You might get your vision back when we finish filming and wonder what you did" trying to make a joke of the situation, you had no clue how to respond.
"Do you want to be exclusive?" he added. "I don't want to see anyone else..."
"Just you" you smiled at him.
He pulled you down for another kiss, and you felt him starting to harden again against your thigh.
"Again?" you teased.
"I have weeks of wanting you to make up for" he said, rolling you onto your back. "Hope you cleared your schedule".
You laughed, and then you stopped laughing because his mouth was on your neck, your breasts, moving lower, and all you could do was hold on and prepare for how tired you was about to be on set tomorrow.
The next few weeks were the best of your life. On set, you were professional. You hit your marks, delivered your lines and did your job. But in the moments between takes, when no one was looking, Joe would catch your hand and rub it, or you'd pass each other in the hallway and he'd lean in close, whispering something that made you blush or smack your ass. You started stealing kisses in your trailer, quickly before someone knocked to call you back to set or touched up hair and makeup. Once he'd pushed you against the door and kissed you breathless, his hand sliding up your thigh, and you'd had to try fix your makeup before going back out as it had just been done.
"You're trouble" you told him.
The on screen chemistry was off the charts now. Laura and Sarah kept praising your performances, saying she'd never seen two actors so perfectly in sync. You ate lunch together in the catering tent, sitting close and stealing food off each other's plates. It became a game, a routine, something that was just yours.
The texting continued, but now it was different. More flirtatious, and definitely more explicit. He'd send you messages late at night about what he wanted to do to you and you'd respond with photos, nothing too revealing, just enough to drive him crazy. A shot of you in bed, the sheets pulled up to barely cover your chest or a mirror selfie in your underwear.
Joe
You're killing me here
You
Good
Joe
Come over
Joe
Please
Joe
I miss you
You
It's midnight
Joe
So?
You
I've also been with you filming all day, you don't miss me, you just want what's hiding under the covers
Joe
I want you, that's a benefit
You'd gone over, of course you did. And he'd made good on every promise his texts had implied, which yes involved a great 3am snack, but also sex on every visible surface in his place.
After that, throughout the week you spent most of your free time together, sleeping over at his place, watching movies, cooking dinner, talking for hours about everything and nothing. He played you the music he was working on during his downtime, and you felt privileged to hear it before anyone else.
"This is really good" you'd said, listening to a track he'd been nervous to share.
"You think so?"
"You're very talented Joe. At everything it seems".
He'd kissed you then, all soft and sweet, and said, "I'm talented at working with my scene partner apparently".
The weeks blurred together in the best way. You were happier than you'd been in years, maybe ever. The movie was going well, your relationship was going well, and for once everything felt like it was falling into place. But in the back of your mind, you knew the clock was ticking. Filming would end eventually, and then you'd have to figure out if this thing between you could survive in the real world.
The second to last week of filming arrived too quickly. You'd started saying goodbye to cast members whose characters' arcs were complete. There were tears, promises to stay in touch, the bittersweet feeling of a project coming to an end. Your final scene with Joe was scheduled for Friday. It was the last scene of the movie, the one where Emma and Daniel, now together, walk through the city hand in hand, talking about their future. It was meant to be a hopeful and romantic happy ending.
The night before, you couldn't sleep. Joe was next to you in his bed, you'd been staying over most nights now and you watched him in the darkness, trying to memorize every detail. The curve of his jaw, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the rise and fall of his chest, scared you was about to lose it all.
"Can't sleep?" he murmured, not opening his eyes.
"How did you know I was awake?"
"I can feel you thinking" He rolled over to face you, eyes opening. "What's wrong?".
"Nothing's wrong. I'm just... it's almost over"
"The movie, yeah"
"And then what?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Then we figure it out. We're both in New York, remember? When it's over, our rentals end, we'll go home and we'll see each other and we'll keep doing this".
"You really think it'll work? Outside of this bubble?"
"I know it will" He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you. "This isn't just a set romance. You know that, right? What I feel for you, it's real. It's not going away when they call wrap".
"Promise?"
"Promise"
You kissed him and let yourself believe it.
Friday morning was chaos. The final scene was being shot on location in downtown LA, and the logistics were complicated. Permits, crowd control, multiple camera setups. You and Joe arrived together, as had become your habit, and were immediately swept into hair and makeup. The scene itself was simple. You'd walk down the street, hand in hand, stopping occasionally to kiss or look in shop windows. There was dialogue about Emma's new job, Daniel's upcoming gallery show, and plans for the future. It was sweet, uncomplicated, the kind of ending that made audiences leave the theater smiling and wanting more.
When Laura called action, you and Joe started walking. His hand was warm in yours, both of you delivering your lines, and they felt true, not like acting at all but like a real conversation about a real future.
"I'm proud of you" Joe said, his line about Emma's job.
"I'm proud of us" you replied, and you meant it on every level.
He stopped walking and turned to face you, his hands coming up to frame your face. "I love you so much" he said, Daniel's line, but also Joe's truth. You could see it in his eyes.
"I love you too" you said, and kissed him.
The kiss was long and near enough perfect. When you pulled back, you were both smiling.
"Cut!" Laura yelled, "That's a wrap on this scene!" And then louder, "And that's a wrap on the movie everybody!".
The crew erupted in cheers and applause. Joe lifted you off your feet, spinning you around and you laughed with pure joy. When he set you down, his eyes were wide and full of happiness.
"We did it" he said.
"We did"
People swarmed you then, Laura hugging you both, the producers shaking your hands, crew members congratulating you. Someone popped champagne, and toasts made their way around the circle. Through it all, you kept finding Joe's eyes across the crowd. He'd smile and you'd smile back.
The wrap party that night was at a club in West Hollywood. The whole cast and crew was there, and the alcohol flowed freely. You and Joe tried to keep your distance, not wanting to be too obvious, but it was hard. You wanted to touch him, to dance with him, to kiss him in celebration. Instead, you settled with staying with some of the girls and stolen glances with Joe from across the room and brief moments when you'd pass each other and his hand would brush yours.
"This is torture" he murmured at one point, close enough that you could smell his cologne.
"I know, but we're almost done. We can go back to your place after"
"Can't wait"
When you finally left the party around midnight, you were both buzzing with champagne and adrenaline. In the Uber, Joe's hand found your thigh, and you covered it with yours.
"I can't believe it's over" you said.
"It's not over. It's just beginning"
Back at his place, he fucked you with a desperation that surprised you both, it somehow feeling like actual love. Like you were trying to prove something, and to cement this thing between you. After lying in his arms for a while, you felt tears prick your eyes as thoughts clouded your mind.
"Hey" Joe said softly, noticing. "What's wrong?"
"I'm scared" you admitted. "What if this doesn't work? What if we get back to New York and realise this was just-".
"It's not just anything" he interrupted firmly. "I love you. Not Emma. Not the character. You. And that's not going to change because we're in a different city"
Your eyes widen, "You love me?"
"Yeah, I do"
God, who is this man and where did he come from?
He kissed you before you could say anything else, and you let yourself believe in happy endings. Not what you expected five months ago when starting a new role.
The last few days in LA passed far too quickly for your liking. You and Joe spent almost every moment together, trying to cram in as much time as possible before you both flew home. You went to the beach, ate at your favourite restaurants, stayed up late talking about everything.
"When do you fly home?" he asked on your last night together.
"Sunday morning I'm pretty sure. You?"
"Same, maybe we're on the same flight".
You weren't as it turned out, but it didn't matter. You'd be in the same city soon enough.
The flight back to New York felt surreal. You stared out the window at the clouds and tried to process everything that had happened over the last five months. Yeah, you only expected three to four months, but you wasn't complaining. It was more time in your new little love bubble. You'd gone to LA for a job and come back with...what? A relationship? A love affair? The possibility of something real? It was like something out of a story.
Joe texted when he landed.
Joe
Home safe. Miss you already!
You
Miss you too! I got back a few hours ago, forgot how much I love it here
Joe
Dinner next week? I want to take you out
You
I'd like that :)
The two weeks between landing in New York and seeing Joe again were strange. You unpacked, did laundry, caught up with friends who wanted to hear all about the movie. You told them about the experience, about working with Joe, but you kept the personal stuff private. It still felt too new, too precious to share. As much as you trusted your friends, there is no doubt somebody would slip up to someone and you'll be on a front page somewhere within the next few hours.
You and Joe texted constantly, but it wasn't the same as being together. You missed him. Missed his laugh, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, but finally, it was time to see him again.
You met at a restaurant somewhere quiet and he said it was near his place. When you walked in and saw him waiting at a table, your heart did that stupid flip it always did whenever you saw him. He stood when he saw you, and his smile was everything, "Hi" he said.
"Hey!"
He leaned in for a hug and kissed you, right there in the restaurant, and he didn't care who saw.
Over dinner, you talked about the last two weeks, about adjusting to being home, about what came next. The movie wouldn't be out for almost a year, post production, marketing, all of that but you'd have to do press together eventually, appear at premieres.
"I don't want to hide this" Joe said, "I know it might be complicated with the movie and the publicity, but I don't want to pretend we're just coworkers, or were..."
"Me neither" you agreed. "We can talk to our teams, figure out how to handle it. But yeah...real"
"Official" he said grinning like he'd just won the lottery. "I like the sound of that".
After dinner, you walked through the city hand in hand, just like Emma and Daniel in the final scene. Except this wasn't a movie, this was your life.
"I, uh, think it's too late to talk to our teams" you heard him and followed his gaze, seeing large flashy cameras from the other side of the street. He stopped walking, tugging you back towards him, his hands coming up to cup your face in a gesture that was all too familiar. "I love you" he said.
"I love you too"
He kissed you in the streets of New York City, in front of everyone, and it felt like a beginning.
Six months later, you were back in LA for the premiere. The movie had tested well with audiences, and the studio was confident they had a hit on their hands. The marketing campaign had focused heavily on you and Joe, your chemistry, the love story at the heart of the film.
What they didn't know then was that the chemistry was real. You and Joe had gone public with your relationship a few months earlier, after being caught and talking to your teams and deciding you didn't want to hide anymore. The response had been mostly positive, with fans excited about the real life romance between the stars.
Now, standing on the red carpet in a dress that cost more than your first car, Joe's hand in yours, you felt like you were living in a dream.
"You look incredible" he murmured as cameras flashed around you.
"You're not so bad yourself" you replied, taking in his perfectly tailored suit and brushing a piece of lint off his jacket.
You posed for photos together, his arm around your waist, and you couldn't stop smiling. This was real. All of it, the movie, the relationship, the future stretching out ahead of you. Inside the theater, you sat next to each other and watched the film you'd made together. Giggling like a teenager at the intimate scenes, even when you knew for sure they never ending up using that take for that scene. It was strange seeing it complete, with music and all the pieces assembled together, but it was so beautiful. You'd made something you were proud of.
When the lights came up, there was thunderous applause and a standing ovation. You and Joe stood with the rest of the cast and crew, and you felt tears in your eyes.
"We did it" Joe said, echoing his words from the last day of filming, rubbing his hand on your back.
"We did"
At the after party, you finally let yourself relax. You danced with Joe, not caring who saw, and laughed with your castmates, celebrating everything you'd accomplished. This really felt like your big break.
Later, back at the hotel, Joe pulled you into his arms as you stepped through the doorway. "I'm so proud of you" he said. "Of us. Of everything".
"Me too"
"I love you" he said, and it still made your heart race every time.
"I love you too"
One Year Later
His apartment was perfect. You moved in with him roughly six months after the premiere, after the press tour and the awards season buzz. There wasn't a specific moment where you both realised you didn't want to spend another night apart, after so many it just naturally gravitated that way.
Now, on a lazy Sunday morning, you were curled up on the couch with Joe, scrolling through emails with your agent and social media . The movie had been a success, both critically and commercially. There was already talk of award nominations, and both of your careers had taken off in a way you'd never imagined. But more than that, you were happy. Genuinely, deeply happy.
"Listen to this" Joe said reading from his phone. "They want us for another movie together but a thriller this time".
"Really?" You sat up interested. "What's it about? Did Maria send it to you or?". Maria was part of Joe's team who became your best friend overnight, she was crazy talented at her job and obsessed with your relationship.
"Married couple who get caught up in some conspiracy. Lots of action, some romance. Could be fun"
"Would we have to do more sex scenes?" you teased.
"Maybe. Think you can handle it?"
You laughed, "I think I've had enough of simulated sex with you. The real thing is much better".
"Totally agree" He pulled you into his lap, kissing you. "So what do you think? Working together again?"
You thought about it, about the magic you'd created on that first film, about how working together had brought you to this moment. About how you'd found love in the most unexpected place.
"Yeah" you said. "As long as we're together, I can do anything".
"Together" he agreed, and kissed you again.
You'd taken a chance on a movie, on a co star, on love, and it had paid off in ways you never could have imagined. Because between the takes, between the scenes, between the moments of acting and pretending, you'd found something real. Something that lasted beyond the final cut.
You'd found each other, and that was the best story of all.
synopsis: you're a BAU agent finding yourself the personal obsession of the Ghostface killer terrorizing your current case.
content: (MDNI), descriptions of crime scenes, stabbings, threats, dubcon, stalking, intense psychological manipulation, gaslighting, betrayal, horror (but we are writing about criminal minds here), morally ambiguous characters, psychopathy, smut, rough!dom spencer (ik he wouldn't, let a girl dream a little), fingering, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it 'fore you tap it!), humiliation, strong language, it's a lot
w/c: 4.7k
a/n: probably the craziest shit i've written so far, also my first criminal minds fanfic so please bear with me
dividers by @/horrorhelp | intro | masterlist
The bright lights of the briefing room hummed overhead; it was something you never got used to, especially after all these years. It cast a fluorescent glow on the maps and crime scene photos pinned to the board in front of you as you take your usual seat.
Prentiss stands at the head of the table, her expression grim as she clicks on the remote. "We've been called to Cedar Creek, Virginia. In the last three weeks, there have been three victims. All stabbed multiple times in the chest and abdomen." She points to another photo on the screen. "The unsub's signature is this. A 'Ghostface' mask, identical to the one from the Scream horror films."
Morgan leans forward with his arms crossed. "What, so he's like a copycat? He might be living in a fantasy, getting off on the movie iconography."
"Not necessarily. The mask provides anonymity, but its cultural recognition could be a secondary benefit. His primary drive is likely the control and fear it instills."
JJ leans back against the leather seat, flipping through the case file with a sigh. "All three victims were alone, in their homes, late at night. He's either really good at picking locks, or he's someone they trusted enough to let inside."
Garcia's voice chirps over the speakerphone, her voice as bubbly as it could be. "Or maybe he's an actual ghost! — A digital one, at least. I'm already looking through the city's records, but so far, our unsub has left no electronic trail. He's pretty much analog."
"Which makes him more dangerous." You rest your hands on the cool wooden table, fixing your gaze on the single photo a witness managed to get of the unsub. "It means he's organized about his digital footprint, patient, he could possibly blend in if he's managing to sneak into the victims' houses."
"Reid, I want you and Morgan to canvass the local university campus. Two of the victims were students. See if anyone noticed anything unusual. Since the case is rather local, we won't need our go bags."
_
Cedar Creek is a rather quiet town, but now shaken up by the sudden influx of murders. The local police station is buzzing with anxious officers, previously idle due to a lack of crime. Prentiss then spreads a map across a crowded desk as Hotch checks in with the officers.
"Alright, like I said, Reid and Morgan are on university. JJ, let's speak with the victims' families to see if we can get something from them."
Reid nods, his gaze briefly scanning the room before landing on you. "It would be beneficial to have someone with your observational skills on the campus canvass." He offers a small, familiar smile.
You knew that it was against policy, but neither of you cared. You'd always been close with Reid. You both went out on dates, exchanged too-friendly glances, and even got to the point of staying at each other's places.
So, knowing you, you wouldn't have said no.
Morgan claps Reid on the shoulder, then turns to you with a warm grin. "You good to ride with us?"
"Of course."
The drive to the university campus was rather quiet this time, the usual easy banter between Morgan subdued by the grim nature of the case. The Gothic-style buildings of the small college loom against the grey sky. Morgan glances in the rearview mirror at you.
"So.. what you got so far? You think the mask is a gimmick?"
Reid answers before you can, staring out the window. It made you internally roll your eyes. "The mask is a psychological tool. It dehumanizes him in the eyes of his victims and allows him to shed his own identity; it shouldn't be a gimmick."
"Ever the optimist, Reid. I'm asking her."
...
"Well, I think it's both. It's a mask to us, but it's a uniform to him. Whenever he puts the mask on, he stops being whoever he is and becomes who he sees in the horror films. We just gotta figure out who he is when it takes it off."
-
The day yields little. Interviews blur together — nervous students, frustrated professors, a campus security guard who saw nothing — you were tired and utterly confused.
Morgan rubs the back of his neck, frustrated and exhausted. “Nothing. This guy is a pro. He leaves no trace, no witnesses who can give us anything solid.”
"It's okay," you sigh, adjusting the rolled-up sleeves of your shirt. "'Bout time to reconvene with the others anyway. See if they got anything."
But no.
The families offered no new connections, and Garcia came up empty. The day practically went to waste. Hotch pins a new timeline to the board, his usual frown painting his face.
"We'll start fresh tomorrow. Get some rest, everyone."
The team disperses with weary nods, and you gather your things and head home. You feel entirely, indescribably frustrated.
After the long drive, you finally step into your apartment; the silence is a stark contrast to today's franticism. The lights are dim and comfortable, and you throw your purse on the kitchen counter. You kick off your shoes, the cool hardwood floor a relief against your aching feet.
You take your time as you get situated, taking a much-needed hot shower, putting on an old college shirt and shorts for pajamas. You turn on the TV to an old sitcom, and get up to open your fridge when your personal cell phone vibrates on the countertop. An unknown number flashes on the screen.
You know better than to answer numbers you don't recognize, so you ignore it.
You continue your task as normal, pulling leftovers from your fridge and putting them in the microwave. The sitcom's laugh track fills the quiet apartment, a poor substitute for real company, really. Then the phone vibrates again. Same unknown number. Then, a third time. You had to pick up.
"Hello?"
"You had a long day. All that work for nothing. It must be frustrating."
You stopped dead in your tracks, your back now pressing against the cool surface of the oven. "Who is this?"
There's a low, staticy chuckle on the other end of the line, obviously from the use of a voice changer. "You've been asking that question all day..
Do you feel safe in your little apartment? You're alone, aren't you?"
Your eyes dart to your front door, checking the lock. You hear the microwave beeping loudly, blaring enough for whoever it was to hear it too. Your voice is tighter now, professional, but a tremor betrays you. "This is a federal line. This call is being traced."
"It's not. You're off the clock, warming up leftovers. I'm just checking in anyway. As friends."
"You don't know me."
"I know you more than you think. I know you drink coffee with shortbread creamer. I know you keep your service weapon in the nightstand drawer," he chuckles again. "Along with your little toy, the one I'm sure you were going to use tonight."
"...Nice guess."
"You won't find me."
The line goes dead with a soft click, and the dial tone buzzes in your ear. The silence in your apartment is now deafening, heavy with a new threat. You stand still for a long moment, your appetite now gone. Your hand shakes as you lower the phone, hastily walking to your bedroom, to the said nightstand.
Your gun was still there with, ironically, the vibrator he mentioned sitting next to it. You took a deep breath. It was probably some teenager pulling a prank on you, but you'd assume that if you weren't a federal agent.
You sink onto the edge of your bed, the weight of the day — and the night — pressing down on you.
The next morning felt like hell for you. You couldn't even bring yourself to make your usual coffee. Last night's call lingered in the back of your mind.
The precinct is already busy when you arrive, the energy a contrast to the hollow feeling in your chest. You set your work bag on the desk. Morgan notices your posture as he walks by.
"Rough night? You look like you've seen a ghost." He attempts a weak joke, but his eyes are concerned. You nod, giving him a small smile before Hotch approaches.
"Alright, everyone. We have a potential lead. A security camera a block from the last victim's apartment caught a figure in a dark hoodie. Too grainy for ID, but it's a start."
Reid's eyes linger on the case before he turns to Hotch. "A hoodie suggests he's adapting. He knows we're looking for the mask."
He nods. "Exactly. Which makes him more dangerous. He's not slavish to the fantasy. He only used the mask as a tool."
"But he still uses it — see? Here, you can see the glint of white covering his face." You point at the screen, then grab the remote to zoom in on the photo.
Morgan squints at the screen. "So he wears the hoodie over the mask? He's hiding his iconic part until the last second."
"It means he's blending in until he's ready to strike. He could be anyone walking down that street."
The briefing continues, but your focus is fractured. Because every time Reid opens his mouth, his words about shedding identity and calculated risk echo the cold and distorted voice from last night.
Morgan leans toward you, his voice dropping. "Hey, you okay? You've been quiet. You're usually a chatterbox."
You playfully roll your tired eyes, pulling your jacket tighter around you. "Just tired, hun. Didn't sleep well."
"Sleep deprivation can significantly impair cognitive function. You should consider a twenty-minute power nap during lunch break. The REM cycle —"
"No, thank you, Reid." You keep your eyes on the screen as you cut Reid off gently. Hotch and Prentiss close out and send you all to search the premises to see if anyone has seen anything. You and Morgan head out into the crisp morning air, the normalcy of the town feeling like a thin veneer. The morning sun does little to warm the chill that settled deep in your bones as you walk alongside Morgan.
You scan the street, but every passing face feels like a potential unsub. But part of you had an idea that you knew who it was. Who else could've known about where you kept your gun? Your personal belongings? And Reid sounded like he was narrating his own process.
God, you were going crazy. I mean, absolutely insane.
Spencer Reid? The thought is so alien that it feels like a betrayal in itself. He is your colleague. Your friend.
"Hey. You sure you good? You're scanning everyone like they're about to draw on us."
"Just on high alert. This guy could be anyone." You avert your gaze, keeping your eyes pointed to your shoes momentarily before looking back up.
"I get it, but y'shouldn't let him get in your head. That's what he wants."
You continue down the block, questioning shop owners and pedestrians. The answers are all the same.
No one saw anything unusual.
Morgan checks his watch; it's been two hours since you left. "Alright, let's take a break 'n get a coffee. You look like you need it more than I do."
As you turn toward the small cafe, your personal phone vibrates in your pocket. A cold dread washes over you as you pull it out. You see a new text message.
{ You should smile more. }
Your head spins on a swivel, the blood draining from your face. Morgan stops walking and matches your sudden freeze. "What's wrong? You see something?" You shove the phone back in your pocket. "I don't know."
"What do you mean, 'you don't know'?"
Before you can answer, Garcia calls you on your work phone.
"Bad news, my lovelies. I just got a call from the local PD. There's been another victim. Stabbed in her home two hours ago."
"Damn, two hours ago? While we were in the briefing?"
"And what's crazy was — the responding officers said that the Ghostface mask was left on the victim's chest."
Morgan's jaw tightens; all traces of casual concern vanish. "He's escalating. He's murdering in broad daylight now."
The unsub couldn't have been Spencer, then. He was in the same room as you during the murder.
"The address is 214 Maple Lane. Prentiss and Reid are already on their way. You two should meet them there."
The scene is a study of controlled chaos. Hotch is speaking with the lead detective, his expression grim as he squints. The sun always bothered his eyes.
Prentiss spots you two and approaches. "Uh — The victim's name is Chloe Gardener. She was home for college on the weekend. No type of forced entry."
Reid emerges from the front door, pulling off latex gloves. His face is pale, and his usual analysis is now replaced by a hollow look. "The attack was frenzied. More so than the others." His eyes meet yours, and for a fraction of a second, they seem to have a strange look. "Something set him off."
"You got that from the overkill?"
"The overkill was one indicator, but the mask feels like a message of contempt now. Not a signature or a persona."
"Contempt for who? The victim or for us?"
Reid finally breaks eye contact with you, looking at Prentiss. "For the process and our ability to stop him. He's proving he can operate right under our noses."
The rest of the day is a blur of paperwork and dead ends. It was another day of frustration, a push and pull of finding the unsub and bringing him to justice.
You drove home in a daze; the image of the mask on Chloe Gardener's chest burned into your mind. And your apartment no longer felt safe. You double-check every lock, your service weapon held securely in your hands as you move through your rooms. There was nothing, and exhaustion eventually won out. You fall into a fitful sleep on the couch, the TV playing softly in the background.
A floorboard creaks softly in the hallway, just outside your bedroom door, and your eyes snap open. The TV is now off, and the apartment is pitch black and silent.
The voice is a whisper, but it's his. Undistorted and disgustingly familiar. "You're a light sleeper."
A shadow moves in the doorway, blocking the faint light from the street. The silhouette of the Ghostface mask is unmistakable. You open your mouth, but he immediately cuts you off.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't scream. I don't want to tape your mouth shut. You know better than that." His voice is calm, almost conversational. "You shouldn't leave your window unlocked either. Even if it's on the second floor. Intruders still see it as an invitation."
"What, intruders like you, Spencer?"
"Yeah, like me."
"Didn't usually think of you as one."
"Then, I guess you're not as good at your job as I thought."
He's standing at the foot of the couch now, the white mask seeming to glow in the darkness. You can see the fabric of his dark hoodie.
"But, wait — the unsub left the mask on the victim." Your voice was a strained whisper, your gun directly in your line of sight as it was visible next to the blanket.
He tilts his head, "What, you think I didn't have more than one? They're just props — don't think about touching that gun."
He takes another silent step closer, the floorboard groaning under his weight. The air is thick with the scent of his familiar cologne. "You know, it's fascinating. The cognitive dissonance you must be experiencing right now. There's a part of your brain that trusts me and another that knows what I am. They're practically warring together."
You slowly begin to shift on the couch, sitting up fully. You swallow. "Why are you here, Spencer?"
He lets out a soft, almost sad sigh. "I told you. I was checking in. As friends."
"You know we aren't just friends, Spence. This isn't funny."
He leans over the couch, his movements fluid and predatory. The glint of a large kitchen knife is visible in his hand. "What did I say about the gun?" He gestures with his chin toward the gun you're clutching under the blanket.
With deliberate slowness, he holds up the knife by the handle, only using his pointer finger and thumb, and places the knife on the coffee table with a soft click, the blade pointing toward you. "Since the knife bothers you so much."
Your breath hitches, and you point the gun at him directly. "Stop fucking with me, Spencer — I know you. Do you really want to lose your job like this? Lose your life?"
He lets out a low, dark chuckle. "You keep saying that. But you have no idea who I am. Not really."
Before you could realize it, he's on the couch, his body pinning yours down, the weight of his body shocking and absolute. "The profile was always the exciting part, having those theories, those questions. But, see, the practice..." He leans close, his masked face inches from yours. "...it's so much more visceral."
His large hand grips your wrist, forcing you to release the gun; your gasp mingles with the sound of it clattering on the floor. "Shh, I told you I'm not here for that. Not tonight."
His grip on your wrist gentles, but doesn't release. His other hand comes up to the base of the mask. "You know I won't hurt you. Not like that. So stop trembling. The knife is on the table, and the gun is on the floor... Think of it as an interrogation."
He slowly lifts the Ghostface mask just enough to reveal his mouth and jawline. His familiar lips curve into a small, unsettling smile. "We profile people for a living. Profile me. Right now. Who am I?"
Your heart is still racing, but the outright panic recedes slightly after a long beat of silence. "You're... you're in control. You need to be."
He nods, his voice laced with genuine interest. "Good. Very good." He shifts his weight, making himself more comfortable pinning you down, but the immediate threat seems to lessen once he's seen you calm down a bit. "And what does that control give me?"
"Spencer why are you doing this—"
"Answer the question. What does that control give me?"
"...Power. Understanding. I-It's why you're a good agent. And... a good unsub."
He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper again. "Exactly. Now, relax. Let's talk. Just us." His thumb strokes a slow circle on the inside of your wrist, feeling your pulse. "See? I can be gentle." His touch is unnervingly soft, a contrast to the violence he's capable of unleashing on you. He gazes down at your blown-out pupils, and he smacks his teeth.
"Your mind's still trying to fit me into a box. But you know people aren't that simple — that's the problem with profiling. We're a series of contradictions. You, for instance, are terrified, but your pulse is slowing. You're assessing the situation."
He tilts his head, studying you. "That's what drew me to you, as a subject."
"What?"
"For my own profile. How long until the agent becomes prey? How does the mind reconcile trust with betrayal?" He smiles again, a flash of teeth in the dark. "It's a fascinating experiment."
The casual, academic tone is more disturbing than any of the threats he gave you, even the ones implied. He enjoyed dissecting you, under the guise of a damn experiment.
"So, let's experiment. Tell me something true. Something you'd never told me before. A secret for a secret."
He can't be serious. Out of his goddamn mind.
The air in the room changed once he finished his proposal. The immediate threat receded, replaced by a psychological game you'd usually refuse to play. But apparently you're out of your goddamn mind too.
Your voice is barely a whisper, the words feeling like a betrayal as they leave your lips. "I... I almost quit after the Mr. Scratch case. I couldn't sleep for weeks."
His expression doesn't change, but his eyes darken with intense focus. "It's understandable. You were having imposter syndrome. Highly common among high-achievers. But statistically, your hunches have a success rate of—"
"Don't. Don't profile me right now. You're the serial killer. You asked for a secret. That's mine."
He nods slowly. "Fair."
"I didn't want to start doing... this... when I put on the mask. I just enjoyed the silence it gave me. I felt like I could finally slow down my thinking." The confession hangs in the air, more intimate and terrifying.
"Your turn again. Why didn't you quit?"
"No. You asked for one secret. You got it."
His smile returns, colder this time. "Negotiation. I like it. But the experiment requires a control variable. One more. Why. Didn't. You. Quit?" His free hand moves from your wrist to grip your jaw, his grip firm enough to make you wince, tilting your face up to his. "Tell the truth."
You hold his gaze, the fight draining out of you as you feel your eyes well up with tears. "B-Because I'm good at it. And I liked that the team — that you... needed me to be.."
He leans in, his lips brushing your ear. "There. Was that so hard?" His voice was a whisper. "You needed to be needed. And I... I need to be in control." He pulls back slightly, his hidden eyes now roaming your face. "Not that we didn't already know that, given our existing dynamics during sex, but..." He shrugs, and there's a pause before he stands up abruptly, releasing you.
"Get up."
You sit up slowly, your body tense. "What are you doing?"
He picks up the knife from the table, but instead of pocketing it, he holds it loosely at his side. "Get. Up. I'm not done."
You slowly stand, your legs feeling unsteady. "What more could you possibly want??"
He closes the distance between you in one swift step, his free hand snaking around your waist to pull you flush against him. "The physiological response to fear is remarkably similar to arousal. Increased heart rate, dilated pupils, shallow breathing."
"Spencer — I can't do this right now —"
His lips find yours in a harsh and claiming kiss, absolutely nothing like the gentle, hesitant kisses you've shared before.
He breaks the kiss, his breathing slightly ragged. "See? There's a line. Your heart is pounding." His hand slides from your waist down to your hip, gripping hard. "Tell me to stop."
Your breath hitches, the words stuck in your throat. He knew you wouldn't. You couldn't. Because you're curious, and part of you feels so impossibly guilty to want to see how far this goes. He kisses you again, more insistent, backing you toward the bedroom.
He pushes you onto the bed, his body following yours, turning into a cage as the knife is placed carefully beside your head, well within his reach just in case you tried something stupid. He pins your wrists above your head with one hand, and you struggle weakly, curse the exhaustion he inflicted upon you. It was probably his plan to begin with, to get you so tired and utterly spent from trying to find him, so he could be entirely in control once he had you to himself.
"This is fucking insane."
He uses his free hand to push up your shirt, his leather-covered fingers splaying across your stomach. "No. It's not. It's called collecting data." His mouth finds the sensitive skin of your neck, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. "Be good and participate. You wanna feel needed, don't you?"
He releases your wrists only to tear down your work slacks, his movements efficient and rough. He then yanks off his gloves, throwing them mindlessly. "Hm, you've always liked it a little rough, haven't you? When I take charge."
You turn your head away, a feeble attempt to regain some composure in your foggy consciousness. He grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Look at me. I want to see your eyes when I break you."
"Please..."
Your eyes reluctantly rise to his, and his fingers trail down your stomach, slipping between the waistband of your underwear.
"Aw, please? Is that a request or a plea? Your pulse is racing here too..."
He presses two fingers against your clit, applying a firm, steady pressure. He watches your face intently as a sharp gasp escapes you, your back arching involuntarily. He begins to move his fingers in small circles before sliding a finger inside you. His touch was clinical and exacting. "There's the arousal. You're soaking my fingers — has it been that long since I finger fucked you?"
A choked moan escapes your lips as your hips buck against his hand. He adds a second finger, curling them inward, his thumb maintaining that relentless pressure on your clit.
"Fuck — Sp– wait —"
"That's it. Let go. For once in your life, just let go."
He increases his pace, his fingers moving with the same rhythm he knew would push you closer to your orgasm. He could feel it. He's coaxing it with his fingers, mindlessly increasing the 'come here' movement of his fingers. His voice is low against your ear, talking you through the silent scream catching in your throat as the orgasm crashes through you, wave after wave of pleasure. He watches, fascinated, as the tension leaves your body.
"Good."
He withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips without breaking eye contact.
He unbuttons his pants, freeing his cock before slapping the tip on your sensitive clit.
"Please—"
His voice is dripping with condescension, "Please? Are you begging me to fuck you now? You were just pointing your gun at me not even ten minutes ago. Is that all a little fingering does to you?"
He presses the head of his dick against your entrance, applying just enough pressure to make your eyes roll back. "Such a pathetic contradiction. A trained federal agent, reduced to begging." He pushes into you with one deep thrust, burying himself without giving you any time to adjust, not like how he usually did. He sets a punishing rhythm from the start, each thrust jarring and deliberate. "You feel that? That's the control you're so afraid of. It feels good, doesn't it?"
Your nails dig into his shoulders, a desperate effort to ground yourself as he makes it impossible to form words. He grabs your hips, angling them to hit that good spot, the one that makes your vision white and your mind go blank. But then he suddenly slows, pulling almost all of the way out, hovering there. With his free hand, he pulls a small, black camera from his hoodie pocket. The lens glints in the dark. He thrusts back in deeply.
"Smile for me,
Say cheese."
Your eyes widen at the sight of the camera, a fresh wave of humiliation and arousal washing over you. "No... don't, please."
He captures the image, the shutter click unnaturally loud in the quiet room. "Too late." He begins moving again, his pace relentless. "Not that you mind, though. Don't you want this, sweetheart?"
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to lift your hips to meet his thrusts. "Yes... god, yes..."
He lets out a satisfied chuckle, "I know, baby. The data is irrefutable." He leans forward, bracing himself with one arm, the camera still in his hand as he drives into you. "You wanna cum for me?"
You bite your lip, nodding frantically as the pressure builds again, your resolve completely shattered. "Please..."
"Then do it. Cum for the camera, let me see it — shit."
He angles the lens down, focusing on your face as his thumb draws circles on your clit. His orgasm triggers yours, a second, more shattering wave that leaves you breathless beneath him. For a moment, the only sound is your ragged breathing mingling in the dark. He collapses beside you, pulling the mask off completely. His face is slick with sweat, his expression unreadable.
He lies beside you, staring at the ceiling, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He turns his head to look at you, his eyes eerily calm.
"The post-coital drop in oxytocin will be significant. You'll feel the fear again soon."
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Can you do a fic with me and gator Tillman we meet on this random app and i become his “hookup” for a long time but we actually fall in love and have a future together thank you 🥹🥹
Unexpected feelings
gator tillman x female!reader
summary — as something that was supposed to be just some fling, sexual stuff only, no feelings, became something else over time as gator finds himself coming to you when he has problems
warnings — 18+, MDNI, smut, angst, fluff at the end, hookup culture, dating app, phone sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, p in v sex, multiple sex with multiple orgasm, oral sex (m and f receiving), angry sex, soft sex, miscommunication, begging, pathetic gator, blowjob, pet names, degradation, slut shaming (reader likes it!), tell me if I missed something, english is not my first language, not proofread, possible grammatical mistakes.
author’s note — hi! sorry for the long wait (this is my last request from may YEY) and I hope you like how I built this up because I was lowkey struggling with it, let me know 😽
ask me anything & requests are currently closed !
masterlist | taglist
It would be safe to say that your last relationship sucked.
I mean he was kind, caring, attentive and everything that a women would want from a man, except one thing.
He was insanely bad in bed. Like no jokes.
Theo was never able to understand what you need, even though you guys went through that conversation a million times. It’s like he only wanted to focus on his own pleasure rather than yours. So you became a master in faking an orgasm and hiding after it to make yourself cum.
But it sounded ridiculous you know? Like he was perfect in every other way with his dirty blond floppy hair and his blue eyes. His tall and worked out figure and the way he actually cared for you and loved you.
He took care of you in every way possible, just not that way. Never that way. Even when he tried it was horrible.
So 6 months after you two broke up cause you felt unhappy, and not seen, it was time for you to get some spark back sexually.
You didn’t plan on dating anyone, it was still fresh, especially after a 3 year old relationship. But it could help you get over him if you got under someone right?
And that’s where that dating app came in.
First it was nice all the attention you got, but most man wanted actual dates, wanted to get to know you, but you did not.
One night you were there on your couch, with a glass of wine and the lamp slightly shining on your cheeks with it’s light as you were scrolling on the app.
That’s when you come around someone who you never thought would be up there.
Deputy Gator Tillman.
The sheriff’s son, someone who everyone feared and someone who everyone know of that does not do relationships.
His profile was simple, only 3 pictures. The first one being his official deputy shot. Second one being him, less focused, less scary, a selfie, probably someone else took it and that someone else got cropped out, him with his tongue slightly peeking his cheeks and that yellow beanie.
The third one was of his lap, on his uniform, his other hand resting on his thigh as he was manspreading, his gun attached to him.
Not much, but enough to know what kind of person he is. His bio also said a lot, even though it was short.
“Deputy, 27, looking for fun nothing serious.”
That’s it.
You let a little laugh escape your lips but still, your fingers worked and added him in.
You were about to move on, closing the app and going to see some socials as you got a notification. He immediately added you back.
You were stunned from how fast he was but then a message popped up.
“Hello.”
With a little hesitation but also excitement you placed your wine on the desk next to you and went to text him back.
“Hi.”
“There are barely women on this app who only want to hook up. Interesting.”
He was referring to your bio that was clearly saying that you wanted just fun, a rollercoaster, not staying long just going over and over for a ride.
“Well I never thought I would be texting the deputy of the town but here you are!”
“Isn’t it such a luck?”
“I don’t know, it depends.”
“Depends on what, darling?”
Darling. Okey that got you.
“If having fun with you is actually fun.”
“I can assure you it is, I would do a lot of things to you.”
“Oh yeah like what?”
Gator was in his bedroom, spreading out in his bed. He had a long fucking day, his dad always just blaming him for everything that went wrong. So when you slide in, he did not let you go away. His hand was resting on his thighs.
“I would have you in my car, backseat, on the side of the road. Have you lay under me, your legs spread for me to touch you.”
Gator found himself cupping himself through his clothes, trying to get some friction from his already half-hard dick—that’s been working since he saw your pictures where your breasts were pushed out a little too much in your top—while that your hand started going up and down your stomach, just for some comfort while reading his texts.
“Who said I would let you touch me?”
“I think you would be begging for me, darling.”
Those words hit you like a rock, heat rushing from your head down your whole body to your core, making it ache now.
“Go on then.”
Gator on the other end just chuckled as he started typing again. He wanted you to do the same thing he was about to do.
“Touch yourself for me. Touch yourself while thinking about my hands going from your cheeks, down to your throat, squeezing them a bit to make your breathing hitch, before going down to twist your nipples, before I take them in my mouth, already nice and hard, peaking for my licks.”
Your hands wandered up to your nipples under your shirt, the cold air hitting them that perked up when you lifted your shirt a bit, your fingers—cold from the wine glass—touching them, your mouth falling open a bit.
Gator on the other hand was already touching himself slowly, his cock out from his jeans, as he was teasing his tip with circles on them.
“Don’t stop.”
“I would slowly guide myself down between your legs, licking a slow, desperate lick of your already wet pussy, are you wet for me baby?”
Your hand flew into your shorts, already founding yourself dripping.
“Dripping.”
“Good girl. Now start moving your finger on your clit, rubbing it, hard and fast, but don’t you dare cum, not even accidentally.”
You started working your fingers over the button of nerves, your head falling back as whimpers left your mouth.
Gator started stroking himself, slow at first, lowkey torturing himself.
“If you are worked up well darling, go down to your entrance, don’t enter yet just circle around it, like I would with my tongue before fucking you into the sheets.”
You obeyed him like a good dog who listened to his owner, you were just so worked up to think for yourself.
Gator started pounding into his fist faster now, imagining you spread out, fingering yourself to him.
“Gator, please, let me finger myself, for you.”
“Go on darling, fuck yourself while thinking about my cock.”
And two fingers slipped into you, as you moaned out from the feeling, your burning ache and your still slightly cold fingers brushing over your walls.
“Gator…say sssomething”
“Imagine it’s my cock, stretching you out, my veins pulsing around your walls, I would find your spot in a minute, fucking into you like the little slut you are, here you are searching for a good fuck, I am here to deliver.”
You started fingering yourself faster while your thumb find your clit, putting pressure on it.
“Fuck…”
“I would grab your tits, suck on them, while destroying your insides. Gosh I know you sound beautiful moaning my name and me fucking you so stupidly that you can’t even form words isn’t that right darling?”
“Yeah I’m gonna cum”
“Scream my name while you do darling, make a mess on your fingers thinking about me cracking you open.”
Heat flushed over you as the know that had formed in your lower stomach exploded while you moaned out Gator’s name at least 4 times, your finger slipping on the voice memo quickly before, recording you moaning and whimpering, your breath fucked up. You sent it to him while you were still cuming around your fingers that were hitting your spots.
When Gator received the message he instantly clicked on it, his teeth biting his lower lip, his eyes shut down and his hands moving in insane speed around his cock.
And when he heard your sounds, your voice, the way you were a whore for him and the way his name slipped from your lips, he spilled into his fist groaning.
He texted you few minutes after saying that it made him cum, before he shut his phone down and fall asleep from the exhausting day.
You didn’t bother much either, just felt strange, it had been a long time since you came like that.
Was it a good idea to do that with the deputy?
The next day neither of you texted each other, it was around 1 PM when you finally had a lunch break so you found yourself in town in your favorite brunch place, sitting outside eating your favorite meal there.
You were scrolling on your phone while chewing your food when on the road next to you a truck speed, suddenly drifting and pausing at the end of the road, in front of two police man.
For some reason your eyes caught it before any thoughts and you saw him exiting it.
The food in your mouth now flat on your tongue as you stopped eating, your eyes drifter on him.
Gator.
He jumped out of the truck, with his vape in his hand, his hands smacking the door shut before walking up to the two police man. He had a stupid sheriff cap on as he sipped into his vape.
He walked like it was heavy to walk, like he owned the town and every single people living in it.
Your eyes wandered around his body, remembering your texts from the day before, as he stopped to talk about something that looked a little suspicious, since they were looking around to make sure they didn’t catch attention that much.
When Gator was turning his head around his eyes accidentally landed on you, you saw it. The way his face changed, he recognized you.
You quickly look away, back to your food. But it was too late. Gator already saw you and memories from last night went through to. The way you sounded.
After a brief minute he excused himself and started walking towards you. You didn’t look at him but you could feel it, you could feel his gaze on your back.
“Good afternoon ma’am.” His cocky smile already on his face, his arms behind himself now. You looked up looking into his eyes.
“Deputy, what a…pleasure.” You were careful with your words as he just giggles glancing away for a brief moment before looking back at you.
“Pleasure you say?”
“I guess so.”
“It’s not nice starring at people on the streets, makes you look like a creep.” He replied.
“I wasn’t starring, it’s hard to not notice you speeding in the town, because you know you can’t get a ticket.” You didn’t hold your tongue back, and it definitely worked on him.
“And it’s hard to not notice a pretty face like yours, darling.”
The nickname hit you hard, but before you could reply your phone buzzed, signing you it’s time to head back to work.
“I-I gotta go.” You said already standing up, making him take a step back as you gathered your stuff.
“Okey, but don’t think you get away that easily.” He answered as winked at you before turning around to head back to his group. You just watched him walk away. He glanced back behind his shoulders and smirked when he saw you starring at the way his hips moved.
That was an unexpected meet up.
And after that meet up, things just flew in. Late night texts and mutual masturbations over the phone.
The thing you did expect was how grown you became to those nights. Like all you had in your mind all day was waiting. Waiting to get home, to him over the phone. It was just pure desire right?
Until one day, it was around 6 PM and Gator pulled up in your porch, which was strange because how did he knew where you live?
“Gator? What?—What are you doing here?”
“You think I work in a police station for no reason? I can search up any information.”
“Good to know you are a stalker.” You replied still standing in your door.
“Well, will you let that stalker come in or you want me to freeze my balls off?”
Your words stuck in your throat, you just moved away from blocking the way in and signed with your hands for him to take a step in.
As he did slowly, taking his time, he started looking around your apartment as you closed the door.
“Nice apartment.”
“Uhm thanks…I’m sorry why are you here again?” You asked him before he just turned to you.
“Do you have some beer?”
“Ugh yeah, I guess, follow me.” You replied while talking towards your kitchen, him following behind you, taking his time to check you out.
When you two reached the kitchen you opened your fridge and bent down to look for some left over beer. His eyes were glued to your ass and the way they peaked out of your shorts.
“Why the hell are you wearing shorts while you are wearing a sweater? What the fuck is the logic in that?”
You didn’t straighten up, you just looked over your shoulder that sent something through him to his cock.
“Why? You don’t like them?” You replied before looking back into your fridge, no answer came as you just pulled out a beer from it, closing the door and straightening up.
That’s when you felt his chest against your back.
“You would look better without them.” He started kissing your neck, pulling your sweater away for him to get more access. The beer in your hand landing on the counter quickly before you drop it.
“Gator…” you moaned as his hand flew to cup your ass.
“Do you want to have fun?”
You just nodded, and that’s all it took him to guide you to the table near and bend you over.
His hands found your shorts and ripped them off, your underwear still on.
“I had a long fucking day, so just shut up and take it, okey?” You didn’t reply, still stunned by the actions as he grinned against your ass. You could already feel his hard cock between your ass cheeks, before he pulled away and you heard him unbuckle his belt and his zipper going down.
He freed his cock as his hand found your hair pulling them to have your head in the air, before his forearm wrapped around your neck making you arch more.
His other hand pulled your underwear to the side and was satisfied when he dive his fingers into your folds, already wet for him.
“Wet for me already? What a slut I have found, secret of this fucking town.”
He was manhandling you, your ex never did that, and you were fucking turned on.
“I’m gonna make you cum, have you make those pretty sounds you had over the phone then I’m gonna fuck your mouth and have you swallow it, right darling?”
“Y-yes please do!” You just whimpered, already aching for him.
Without warning he guided himself and pushed into your hole making you moan out as he groaned.
“Fuck, you are so tight and warm, better than I ever imagined-“ he started pounding into you, the table cracking with every thrust he put into you.
His forearm tightened around your neck, making it harder to breathe as your eyes rolled back from hitting your g-spot.
“That’t it, take it—you fuck—fucking slut.” He whimpered around your clenching.
“G-gator…harder.”
Surprisingly he knew what harder meant, not faster, but slapping into you harder, his skin and balls slapping your pussy harder every thrust, probably leaving a red mark there.
“My little fuck toy—cum for me darling.” His other hand that helped him guide himself flew to your clit as he started abusing it, circling around it in a speed like he had no time. Because he didn’t, he was pathetic and he had to hold himself from cuming in you because he wanted to cum down your throat, so he needed you to fall over quickly.
“Fuck—I’m gonna—“ you moaned as your hands grabbed into the edge of the table, grinding your self back to him, fucking yourself on him.
“Cum around my cock, show me what you can do.”
With another thrust and him capturing your breath you screamed his name as you went to heaven, your eyes rolled back into your skull, and went white.
As he felt you finish, letting you grind yourself from the high he pulled out of you, receiving a whimper from the sudden loss from you. Didn’t take much time before he flipped you and put you on your knees. You could barely feel your legs as his cock, dripped in your cum already was guided into your mouth, which was left open from trying to catch your breath.
He thrusted in your throat deep, your nose brushing his pelvic bones and hitting that area. You were sobbing from the way he abused into your throat, his hand flew into your hair guiding you on his cock.
Your hands flew to his thighs to have some strength. Your knees on the cold floor, tears falling down your cheeks as you tried to look up at him to see his face.
“Fuck your mouth, it’s delicious.” He looked down at you, your eyes meeting as you were struggling to take him.
“Oh darling, is it too much? You can take it, I’m almost there, be my little slut—swallow it.” He mocked you as you moaned around him and that was it, he spilled himself warm down your throat as you sucked him, milking him more, swallowing every drop, he moaned.
After you two caught your breaths and cleaned off, finally exchanged numbers before he left in a hurry, his dad already searching for him through his walkie talkie.
Gator Tillman was never that kind of man who got comfort from anyone or even asked for it. He grew with a father who always told him a man never cries. A man is always strong, always leads, never breaks.
But when his work had him to things that made him lay awake at night, letting him overthink everything he had done, questioning if it was all worth it for a pat on a shoulder from his father, was it worth to live like that?
What was the purpose of it all.
He started seeking to have you in any form. Over the phone, over the hookups that have been happening since that afternoon in the kitchen.
Just having someone to go to, it made his heart heavy, in a good way.
So when another day occurred and another work had came up he was tired from it all. Especially because that day something traumatic happened to him. Something he will never tell anyone, where he had to beg for his life, where he had time to rethink what is actually important, and where his mind wandered to think of you.
He doesn’t know why, he doesn’t understand why, but it made him stronger. The thought of never hearing your voice again or see the way your face lit up every time you looked at him. Those things made him survive a little more.
And at night when he escaped, he could have gone home, but he found himself on your porch, knocking softly on your door, with fresh cuts, messed up hair and eyes still wet from crying.
When you opened the door the sight of him like that made your heart twist, as you pulled him and lead him to your couch.
“Gator, what happened?” You captured his jaw in your hands making him look at you finally.
“It doesn’t matter-“
“Don’t fucking say that, it matters if you are hurt.”
You didn’t know that those words would hit him harder than you wanted them too, you didn’t know that whenever he got hurt he was left alone to deal with it, his father saying it’s just the cost of becoming a man.
His eyes softened, his whole face set still as he watched you, you already looking through your little aid kit to find something for the cuts on his forehead, nose and lips.
You didn’t see or didn’t feel his eyes lingering over you, but not the way they usually did. His mind not filled with thoughts about wanting to be inside of you, his thoughts were…different.
After Gator’s mom left him, he never looked at women like they were a stable choose, never fall in love, never settle down, never have someone who cares about him.
But then you came, every time you two met up, you would bring him some snacks, cause you knew he lived on take outs, poor sandwiches and instant noodles. You took care of him, even though you two were just casual. Just hooking up, just having fun right?
And now there were you, on your knees in front of him, and all he wanted to was kiss you and protect you from all the bad things he could bring into your life.
As this thoughts went down his mind you were already grabbing his face again to tilt it the way you can get access to his face.
You started disinfecting his cuts, starting with the one on his forehead with a cotton pad, then down to his nose, and lastly to his lips. He didn’t move around didn’t hiss, and that made you realize he probably went through this more than you can imagine.
His eyes were just watching your face, the way your eyebrows furrowed, concentrating to not hurt him deeper.
But when you were tapping his lips you finally locked eyes with him and slowed down your movements, zooming out in his hazel eyes. Suddenly the room felt smaller than it was, the air was gone and you two were inches away from each other. None of you said a word, like you didn’t even need to.
His palm came up to cup your cheeks as he slowly leaned into you, his lips, with the taste of a little blood and the cut against your mouth, crashed into you, kissing you.
But not the way you two usually did. It was the one that spoke louder than words. The one that was not casual, not just fuck buddies.
He was soft, slow, savoring you like you were the medicine for his cuts and trauma.
You didn’t pull away, you leaned in. And when you two broke the kiss to breathe, his forehead rested against yours.
“Nobody ever took care of me.” He whispered into the silent space.
You didn’t know how to respond to that, ad you felt your heart pound faster, almost break through your bones and skin.
“I…I’m always gonna take care of you.” You finally replied as he moved away to fully be able to see you.
His eyes were watery once again, his hand flew from your cheek down your body, slowly pulling you up into his lap.
You didn’t move away, you strapped him between your legs, and reached for the bandages from the kit.
Something that night changed, shifted, and Gator never felt more home. After you finished, he pulled you down on the couch, got behind you, his hands resting on your waist as he buried his face into your neck.
None of you spoke, none of you questioned, just enjoyed the warmth of each other.
But something did happen, because Gator realized what it was.
The next morning he woke up to you peacefully sleeping, it was like 5 AM if he had to guess, and as he saw you sleep with no worries between his arms he knew it was not right.
He can’t have this, he doesn’t deserve this.
And it lead to him leaving your apartment as quiet as possible, but before that, he found a blanket near by and tucked you in. Taking one last glance of you before he knew he had to leave.
When you woke up, he was gone, you tucked in and your emotions and feelings all over the floor.
You didn’t understand anything, you just couldn’t figure him out.
You texted him, multiple times but no answer came, like you didn’t even exist, like you were just a game.
You knew it was supposed to be only hookup, but after last night you couldn’t just go back to that, and he didn’t wanna move forward.
After two days of not replying you got the message, that no message is the message. And even tho it hurt more than you wanted to admit, you accepted it.
One month has gone by, Gator avoided you, but watched you. He knew you could never be his, but he also hated the idea of you being someone else’s.
So when he saw you at your favorite coffee shop with another man, laughing over some coffee and pantry, he couldn’t help his jealousy take over.
Especially when his arms moved, resting his pam on your thigh while you were laughing at something he said. Something that used to be only his.
That night Gator finally opened your messages.
Good morning
Where are you?
Are your cuts okey?
Why are you not answering?
Is this some kind of game?
Is it because of last night?
So you are just ignoring me
Fuck you gator really.
His heart jumped reading those texts, all your emotions written over them.
Hey.
Was all he texted, one month after leaving your house with feelings that should have never came alive.
When the notification popped up you were confused, angry, maybe happy?
You didn’t know how to feel or what and when. What was he playing?
Don’t you fucking dear.
That was all you texted back, you didn’t wanna hear from him. You didn’t want to be a toy he can play around with while ruining your emotions and brain chemistry.
Please let me explain
No you had your fucking time, you had all of it, I’m not gonna play this game with you
I know, I know I fucked up ok? Just I was scared
I was scared too! But I would never give you the silent treatment, now leave me please.
Please darling.
Don’t text me again.
And no other notification came from Gator Tillman.
You really thought that was it? Because not even 20 minutes after your last message loud banging on your door happened.
When you rushed to the door to see who was so fucking eager to get in you flew the door open and was met with Gator, his hand leaning on the door frame while the other one was still in the air after knocking on your door.
He was different, his hair not gelled back, he was in a black T-shirt and black jeans, no sign of deputy or the famous Gator Tillman.
He was out of breath, and he was just Gator.
“Please, please let me talk, let me in, let me make it right.”
Your body moved before your mind could send the words to your mouth, you moved away from blocking the door as he rushed in.
You just closed the door and when you turned back to face him he was in front of you, on his knees looking up at you.
“I’m sorry, I am so sorry-“
“Gator what are you doing?” You were stunned by the big man breaking down in front of you, suddenly begging for your forgiveness.
“I was stupid, I was so fucking stupid and I was a bitch and I never wanted this to happen.”
His hand flew to your thighs, burying his face in your stomach as your hands flew to his head to maintain your balance.
“Gator stop—“
“I never thought I could love someone, I don’t even think I deserve you but you are all I want, all I have in my mind, all I dream about and all I crave to be with.” He murmured against your stomach.
He pathetic really, but was so vulnerable too.
“You can’t do that, you can’t just ignore me and do this then…” you whispered into the silence that followed his sobs.
“I know, and if you—if you give a chance, just one more…please—I will do better, I will be better for you, just for you baby, I will love you. I love you.”
All words left your brain from his confession and your eyes watered at the sight and words of his, cause you wanted nothing more than him.
Because along the rollercoaster, the ride, you realized you loved the way it made you feel, the way your stomach dropped every time you saw him, and how you always craved to get back into that ride.
You slowly pulled him up from the floor, as much as he let you just to finally make eye contact with him.
“I love you too, Gator.” A smile occurred on his lips as he leaned in to capture your lips between his.
One month of no taste of each other and your stomach was in heaven. Him against you once again felt like the whole world disappeared and it was only you and him.
The kiss was full of love, care, and cravings. The way his lips pushed yours and the way his tongue came to lick your lips, wanting to enter it made you moan.
His hands rested on your waist as yours were around his neck.
The kiss became passionate in seconds, like you two had only a little time before it went down. His hand flew down to your thights and tapped on then to signal you to jump, so you did. And he caught you, like he always will from now on.
With your legs around his waist he started walking up to your bedroom, not taking a break from savoring your lips.
The makeout was heated but not heavy, it was not lust it was love, he just wanted to love you and wanted you to love him the same way.
He slowly put you down your mattress, hovering over you and start kissing down your neck, sucking on the sweet spots of yours.
It was not aggressive, not hard, not so angry sex you two usually had. It was just showing love. Something Gator never understood till he met you.
His hand slid down from your shoulder to your breasts, squeezing them, making open your lips from pleasure as he slid down more to your waist, grabbing the end of your shirt and lift it up, pulling it down of you slowly, having a break from kissing your neck. He tossed it away, as you reached to take his shirt off. When both of you were half naked you two just stared at each other, your hands flew to his hair covered chest, looking differently on it than you did before.
His hand flew to cup your breast before leaning forward to kiss you again. Making you moan into his mouth.
He broke the kiss, even though you reached for him, he was moving down once again…kissing your neck, your collarbone, your breasts that had not touched a bra all day, kissing between them slowly down your stomach. Your fingers scratching his scalp.
When he was down facing your core he looked up at you, waiting for your nod, and as you did he slid your pants down along with your underwear and without warning, he licked one big slit up your pussy before sucking lightly on your clit.
He buried himself deep in your folds you were worried he would suffocate, but he was right where he wanted to be, feel you, smell you, taste you and let’s not forget to hear the sounds you were making from the way his tongues worked around your pussy.
Licking your folds over your whole pussy, sucking in your clit while two fingers flew to your entrance, circling it, making you shimmer and whimper, wanting more.
He moaned against your clit, sending a vibration through you that made you moan his name as popped two fingers in you, curling them to find your spot.
“G-gator fuck!” You moaned as he scissored his fingers inside you, going in and out of you, slow, but hard.
His eyes flew to see you, see the way you arched, the way tits moved with every pump of your fingers, putting you more into the mattress and the way your head fall back, your mouth hang open, moaning.
“Come on darling, cum for your deputy.” He said against your clit, sending another joint through you and your walls clenched around him before waves went through you and with moans you cum around his fingers. You arousal covering his fingers, he pulled them out and came up to you.
“Suck them clean.” He said putting his fingers in your already slightly open mouth, so you did, while maintaining eye contact with him. Sucked them all clean.
“Good girl.” His cock was throbbing, you could feel it against your core so you flew to push your pants down, along with his boxer.
“Needy are we?” He said before helping you get his layers off, leaving both of you fully naked.
“Just fuck me already, please…”
“Oh so you are the one begging now?…huh.” He said while lining himself up to your hole.
He slowly started pushing in, your eyes rolling back the same way his did.
“Fuck you are so tight. I can feel your heartbeat darling. Fucking love it.” He said while he pushed himself all in making you scream out of the stretch.
“I know, you gonna take it alright? Show me how much you love me.” He started moving out of you, only leaving his tip in before slamming into you. Both of you groaned as he started repeating it, again and again and again.
His movements became harder but again not faster, he was not rushing, not wanting to do it fast so he can run away from his feelings. He was here with you and he will stay.
His head flew to your breasts and captured your nipple between his lips. He was sucking on them and occasionally bit down on them when his dick twitched building up his release.
“Gator…I’m gonna—“ you tried to say between moans.
“I know, I know, cum for me, show me how much you want me.”
With some other thrusts you moaned out his name, your whole body shaking as you came once again for him.
Those sounds was all he needed before spilling into you, moaning around your nipple once again.
He slowed down his thrusts and came up to see your face. He kissed you as soon as you looked at him.
He pulled away, his cheeks in your palm, his forehead once again resting on yours, him still inside of your slowly softening as both of your cum’s started spilling out of you as much as they could from Gator.
“I meant it, I meant it all. I love you and I want to do this, I want to do this with you, if you let me.”
“I love you too, and yes I want to, more than anything.” You pulled him into another sloppy kiss.
And that night there were no unspoken emotions, no gatekeeping, these were never planned, these feelings were unexpected, but both of you were happy that it happened that way.
Because two years later, Gator was loyal to his promise and protected you, and wanted you as only his, when he kneeled down on one knee and asked for you hand, and when you said yes, forever begin, between you two, something that no one can break.
pairing: steve harrington x reader (w.c. 6.3k)
summary: after months of chemistry with steve, the whole group suspects there's more between you two. specially nancy, who keeps pushing the truth. you deny it, claming you're just close. until she walks in and catches you together doing more than ''just friends'' things.
warnings: porn with plot, +18 (minors do not interact), explicit nsfw, big dick steve, praise kink, fingering, unprotected sex, almost creampie, dirty talk, getting caught, secret situationship, mutual masturbation, p in v, oral sex (f & m receiving), dryhumping, jealousy behavior.
author's note: hii petition requested here :3 hope u like it n please be patient about the others one pls! love yall
you knew steve harrington for what felt like forever now.
it all started back when dustin first dragged him into your orbit after the chaotic demodog incident.
at first, steve was just your annoyingly popular friend; the former king of hawkins high who somehow ended up babysitting a bunch of kids and fighting monsters alongside them.
but over time, that reluctant acquaintance changed into something much deeper.
steve became one of the most important people in your life.
he was the person you called when you couldn’t sleep.
the one who remembered your favorite snacks after a rough day.
the only one who could make you laugh even when the weight of the upside down felt crushing.
the two of you shared an effortless closeness that went far beyond normal friendship.
you spent countless nights talking in his car, shoulders brushing, exchanging quiet confessions under dim streetlights.
he knew your fears, your dreams, and the way you liked your drinks.
you knew his insecurities, his regrets, and the parts of him he hid from the rest of the world.
and yet… you weren’t together.
not officially.
there were no labels, no dates and no promises.
just a deep, tender bond that everyone around you seemed to notice except the two of you.
or at least, that’s what you told yourselves.
steve had been completely honest with you about nancy.
one quiet evening, months after their breakup, he told you everything; the good moments. the painful fights, the way he had failed her, and how much it hurt when things ended.
he spoke openly about his guilt and the lingering sadness, but he also made it clear that he had moved on.
the feelings were no longer romantic; they were just memories now.
still, he trusted you enough to lay it all bare, something he rarely did with anyone else.
you listened without judgment, and that night only pulled you two closer.
robin, of course, found the whole thing endlessly entertaining.
she never missed a chance to tease you both.
whenever she caught steve staring at you a little too long or noticed how his hand instinctively rested on your lower back when you walked together.
“you two are so gone for each other it’s actually painful to watch.” she’d smirk and say.
she loved poking at steve specifically, grinning.
“just admit you like her. the way you look at her is embarrassing. even the kids have noticed.”
steve would roll his eyes, cheeks slightly pink.
“shut up,” but he never actually denied it.
after that, you became close friends with nancy and Robin.
or that’s what you thought.
one crisp afternoon, the three of you –you, nancy, and robin– were walking through the woods. you were supposed to be gathering information about some gates, but the conversation drifted into more personal territory.
steve was a little further ahead, scouting with eddie, but every so often he would glance back over his shoulder, his eyes finding you almost instinctively.
he’d give you that soft familiar half-smile before turning his attention back to the trail.
and nancy noticed it immediately. she let out a small bitter-sounding laugh as she pushed a branch out of her way.
‘’god, look at him. he can’t even go five minutes without checking on you.’’
you looked at her, thinking the words to talk.
‘’it’s actually kind of impressive how attentive he is… when he wants to be.’’ nancy continued.
robin raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, sensing the shit in tone. nancy continued again, her voice was sweet but laced with something sharper.
‘’must be nice having someone glued to you at these days.’’
you felt heat rise your cheeks. laughing nervously, you shook your head and tried to brush it off.
‘’oh, come on, nancy. it’s not like that,’’ you said quickly, forcing a smile. ‘’steve’s just… protective of everyone. he’s not that attentive with me specially. we’re just close friends, that’s all.’’
nancy turned her head to look at you, her expression unreadable but her smile thin.
‘’right,’’ she replied, the word dripping with disbelief. ‘’just friends. of course.’’
she looked forward again, eyes landing on steve’s distant figure as he once more glanced back toward your group.
towards you.
robin cleared her throat, trying to cut through the tension, but the damage was already done.
you swallowed hard, heart racing, and kept walking in silence, painfully aware of steve’s eyes still lingering on you from afar.
that same evening at the wheeler house, the group was crowded around the large dining table covered in maps, newspapers clipping, and half-empty mugs of coffee.
steve stood directly behind you, his tall frame leaning over your shoulder as he pointed at a particular route on the map.
his chest pressed warmly against your back, and one of his hands settled naturally on your waist, his fingers splaying possessively over the fabric oof your shirt.
the touch was innocent enough to anyone glancing over. but the way his thumb began to move –slow, deliberate circles against your side– was anything but.
you felt his breath ghost over the side of your neck when he spoke.
a low and intimate voice.
‘’right here,’’ he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear. ‘’this is where we need to be careful.’’
your breath hitched. without meaning to, you leaned back into him, your hips pressing subtly against his front.
steve’s grip tightened instantly, pulling you closer for just a second.
the heat between your bodies was undeniable.
his fingers flexed against your waist, and you could feel the tension in his arm, like he was fighting the urge to do more.
the air around you felt thick, charged with something heavy and unspoken.
steve’s other hand brushed against yours on the table, lingering far longer than necessary, his pinky slowly tracing the side of your hand.
you bit your lip, trying to focus on the map while your heart hammered in your chest.
from across the table, robin smirked but stayed quiet.
nancy, however, watched the entire interaction with narrowed eyes, her pen frozen in her hand.
eddie, never one to hold back, groaned loudly and threw his head back in exaggerated disgust.
‘’oh my god, seriously? can you two stop eye-fucking each other for five minutes? we’re trying to plan how not to die and you’re over here practically dry-humping each other in front of everyone!’’
he waved his hands dramatically.
steve didn’t move away immediately.
instead, he let out a low chuckle. his hand gave your waist one last possessive squeeze before he finally straightened up.
but the heated look he gave you over your shoulder made it very clever this moment was far from over.
you felt your cheeks burning as you avoided nancy’s sharp gaze.
but she said nothing.
after the group finally finished planning their strategy to confront vecna, everyone slowly dispersed.
leaving you and steve completely alone in the dining room.
the tension in the air was immediate and thick.
steve leaned back against the table, his arms crossed over his chest while he watched you with that cocky little smirk.
‘’so…’’ he started, giving you a low voice full of sarcasm. ‘’you gonna keep pretending in front of nancy that you aren’t completely obsessed with me? or are we still playing the game?’’
you turned to face him, trying to keep your expression neutral even though your heart was racing.
‘’you’re the one who can’t keep his hands off me in front of everyone,’’ you shot back, raising an eyebrown. ‘’real subtle, harrington.’’
steve let a low chuckle and pushed off the table, slowly stalking toward you.
‘’oh, i’m sorry. was i being too obvious when you were practically pushing your ass back against me earlier?’’ he stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could smell his cologne. “don’t act like you didn’t love it.”
you rolled your eyes, even as heat crawled up your neck.
“you’re so full of yourself.”
“and you,” he said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers lingering on your jaw, “are a terrible liar.”
his thumb brushed slowly over your cheek.
‘’you’ve been looking at me the same way i’ve been looking at you all day. don’t think i didn’t notice.”
the tension between you was electric.
steve’s eyes dropped to your lips.
then back up to your eyes.
he looked at you hungry.
‘’you drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured. “acting all innocent in front of the others while you know exactly what you do to me.”
your breath hitched.
“maybe you just need better self-control.”
steve smirked, stepping even closer until your bodies were nearly touching.
“or maybe you should stop pretending you don’t want me to lose it.”
for a second, you both just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken desire.
then steve cupped your face with both hands and kissed you.
it was deep and urgent from the start.
you kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers sliding into his hair and tugging.
steve groaned softly against your mouth, one hand dropping to your waist to pull you flush against him.
the kiss grew hotter, tongues meeting, bodies pressed together against the table as weeks of hidden tension finally spilled over.
‘’fuck… i hate hiding this,” steve whispered with husky voice.
before you could respond, the door swung open.
“oh, for the love of god—” robin stood there, holding two mugs of coffee, eyes wide. “again?! i can’t leave you two alone for five minutes without you attacking each other!”
the next day, you, robin, and nancy spent the afternoon at the hawkins public library.
you three were tucked away in a quiet corner surrounded by stacks of old newspapers, town history books, and anything that might give you new information about vecna.
for a while, the conversation stayed focused on research.
but eventually, nancy closed the book in front of her with a soft thud and looked directly at you.
“so… are you and steve actually together?” she asked, her voice calm but pointed.
you felt your stomach drop.
robin glanced up from her notes but said nothing, choosing to stay silent for now.
nancy leaned forward slightly, continuing before you could answer.
“because the tension between you two is impossible to ignore. it doesn’t look like friendship. it looks like something more.”
you shook your head quickly, forcing a nervous smile.
“no, nancy. we’re not together. i promise. steve and i are just really close friends. that’s all.”
nancy let out a small sigh, tilting her head as she studied you.
“look, i know steve. i dated him for a long time, remember? i know exactly how he acts when he’s into someone. it’s kind of his thing when he’s flirting.” she paused for a moment, then added, “and honestly? it’s fine. it doesn’t bother me. steve and i are friends now. i’ve moved on.”
you felt your cheeks heat up. you shook your head again, more firmly this time.
“no, really. we’re not like that. we trust each other. there’s nothing romantic going on.”
nancy gave you a small, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“of course,” she said softly, her voice sweet but edged with something sharper. “you two are just… very close. i understand. it’s sweet, really.”
the comment hung in the air, light enough to seem innocent, but pointed enough to sting.
you couldn’t hold back anymore.
“nancy… are you jealous?”
the question slipped out before you could stop it. robin’s head snapped up from her notes, eyes widening slightly.
nancy blinked, clearly caught off guard, but she recovered quickly with a soft laugh.
“jealous? no, i’m not—”
before she could finish, robin cleared her throat loudly and interrupted.
“okay, ladies, as fun as this is, we should probably get back to investigating,” she said, tapping the newspaper in front of her. “vecna isn’t going to defeat himself, and we’re running out of daylight.”
nancy pressed her lips together for a second, then nodded.
“you’re right,” she said, standing up and smoothing her sweater. “i’ll go check the history section on the second floor. maybe there’s something useful there.”
she gave you one last lingering look before walking away toward the stairs.
the moment nancy disappeared between the shelves, robin turned to you with a knowing smirk.
“alright. she’s gone,” robin said, leaning closer. “i know there’s something going on between you and steve. and before you try to deny it again — i’ve literally walked in on you two making out. twice.”
she raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“so… how long has this been going on?”
you let out a long sigh, glancing around to make sure nancy was still out of earshot.
“a few weeks,” you admitted quietly. “it just… happened. we’re not officially together or anything. it’s kind of a mess, honestly.”
robin nodded slowly, a small smirk on her face.
“i figured. you two have been acting weird for a while. it was only a matter of time. just be careful, okay?”
you smiled weakly.
“yeah… i know.”
the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of research.
when you finally got home that night, you were exhausted. you had just changed into your pajamas when the phone rang.
without thinking, you picked it up.
“hello?” a familiar low chuckle came through the line.
“hey, baby… it’s me.” you smiled, lying back on your bed.
“steve. i didn’t know it was you.”
“yeah, i figured,” he said, voice warm. “how was the library? did you find anything useful, or was nancy giving you a hard time?”
you let out a soft laugh.
“a bit of both. we found some old records that might help with vecna, but nancy kept pushing about us again. she’s convinced we’re together.”
steve hummed.
“let her think what she wants.” hs tone shifted, becoming slower and deeper. then the quiet was made, until he talked again. “i miss you. been thinking about you nonstop since yesterday.”
“i miss you too,” you whispered.
steve’s voice dropped even lower.
“yeah? i keep thinking about that kiss… how you pulled me closer. fuck, i wanted to lift you onto that table and take my time with you right there.”
your breath caught. heat spread through your body as you squeezed your thighs together instinctively.
your free hand rested on your stomach, fingers twitching as you fought the urge to slide them lower.
“steve…” you breathed, voice shaky.
“i’ve been all day remembering how you sound when you’re turned on,” he continued, husky and teasing. “i want you so bad, baby. i want to kiss down your neck, push your legs apart and—”
your fingers hovered just at the waistband of your pajama shorts, heart racing, breath coming faster.
you were so close to giving in—
“honey!” your big sister’s voice suddenly echoed from downstairs. “dinner’s ready! come down before it gets cold!”
you froze, letting out a frustrated sigh as you pulled your hand away.
“shit… i have to go,” you whispered, cheeks burning. “my sister’s calling me for dinner.”
steve groaned deeply on the other end.
“worst timing ever. alright… go eat.” he paused, then added with a smirk in his voice, “but tomorrow i’m coming over early.”
the next afternoon, you had just stepped out of the shower, steam still filling your bathroom.
you wrapped a towel tightly around your body and walked into your bedroom, hair damp and skin still warm.
you were supposed to meet up with nancy, robin, eddie, and the rest of the group in less than an hour to go over the final details of the plan against vecna.
you were reaching for your clothes when you heard the familiar sound of your window sliding open.
you jumped, letting out a startled gasp as steve climbed through the window like he used to do back in the day.
he landed quietly on your floor, brushing off his jeans with a smug little smirk.
“jesus christ, steve!” you whisper-yelled, one hand clutching the towel tightly against your chest. “you scared the hell out of me!”
he straightened up, eyes slowly dragging down your body, taking in the sight of you in nothing but a towel.
his smirk deepened.
“sorry, baby,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “couldn’t wait until later.” he took a slow step closer, his eyes dark with heat. “and damn… this is a much better view than i imagined.”
you felt your face heat up as you took a small step back, still gripping the towel.
“steve. i have to get ready. we’re meeting everyone soon and i’m not even dressed.”
he ignored your protest, closing the distance between you until he was right in front of you.
his fingers lightly traced the edge of the towel near your collarbone, not pulling it, just teasing.
“you sure you don’t have five minutes?” he murmured, voice low and flirty. “because you look way too good in just this towel.’’
before you could answer, steve’s hands slid down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you flush against him.
you didn’t resist.
the second his lips met yours, you melted into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck.
the kiss was hungry from the start.
steve kissed you like he’d been waiting all day, tongue sliding against yours as one of his hands stayed firmly on your waist and the other cupped the back of your neck.
you kissed him back just as eagerly, fingers threading into his hair and tugging lightly, exactly how he liked it.
“fuck, i missed this,” steve breathed against your lips between kisses. “missed tasting you… missed the way you sound when i kiss you like this.”
you let out a soft moan into his mouth as he deepened the kiss again, his tongue exploring yours with slow, heated strokes.
your body pressed tighter against his, the thin towel the only thing between you.
steve walked backwards until he reached your bed and sat down on the edge, never breaking the kiss.
with a gentle but firm tug, he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him.
the towel rode up your thighs as you settled over him, and his hands immediately gripped your hips, holding you in place.
“steve…” you whispered breathlessly, forehead resting against his as you both tried to catch your breath.
he smirked, eyes dark with want, and gave your hips a light squeeze.“What?” he teased, voice rough.
“you said you had to get ready… but you’re not exactly pushing me away, baby.”
you laughed softly, still a little dizzy from the kiss, and leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time.
steve groaned quietly into your mouth, one hand sliding up your back under the edge of the towel while the other stayed firmly on your thigh.
“we really don’t have time,” you murmured against his lips, even as you kissed him once more.
“i know,” he replied, nipping at your bottom lip. “but fuck… you make it really hard to care.”
you kept kissing him deeply, straddling his lap as the kiss grew hotter and messier.
your hips rocked slowly against him without thinking, and steve’s grip on your thigh tightened, pulling you closer.
his tongue moved against yours hungrily, one hand now fully under the towel, caressing the bare skin of your back and waist.
soon you felt him getting hard beneath you.
his cock pressed against your core through his jeans. you smiled against his lips and rolled your hips deliberately, grinding down on the growing bulge.
“mmm… already?” you teased, voice breathy and playful. “i thought you were supposed to behave.”
steve let out a low, strained groan, his hips buckling up slightly to meet your movement.
“you’re the one sitting on my lap in nothing but a towel,” he muttered with a rough arousal voice. “what did you expect?”
you smirked and leaned in, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck.
you sucked lightly on the sensitive spot just below his ear, then gently bit down, earning another deep groan from him.
“fuck, baby…” steve hissed, tilting his head to give you better access.
his hands gripped your ass under the towel, squeezing as you continued grinding against his now fully hard cock.
“you’re gonna kill me.”
you kissed and licked along his neck, enjoying the way his breathing got heavier every time you rolled your hips.
“maybe i should stop then…” you whispered teasingly against his skin, even as you pressed down harder against his erection.
“don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, one hand sliding higher up your thigh, dangerously close to where you were both aching for contact.
steve pulled you even tighter against him and captured your mouth in a deep intense kiss.
his hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers threaded into your damp hair as he held you in place, kissing you harder.
his tongue slid against yours with hunger, dominating the kiss completely.
you moaned softly into his mouth and started rocking your hips, grinding slowly but firmly against the hard bulge in his jeans. the friction made you both breathless.
steve groaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pushed his hips up to meet every roll of yours.
he kissed you like he was starving, focusing especially on your upper lip — sucking it into his mouth, licking it, biting it gently before soothing it with his tongue.
he kept returning to it over and over, obsessed.
he was pressed so close his nose kept brushing against your cheek and almost poking the corner of your eye with every tilt of his head, but neither of you cared enough to pull away.
“fuck, baby…” he panted between kisses with a rough voice. “you feel so good grinding on me like that.”
you answered by rolling your hips harder, dragging your covered pussy along his clothed cock in slow deliberate movements.
steve’s grip on your neck tightened as he kissed you even deeper, sucking on your upper lip again while his other hand squeezed your ass under the towel, guiding your movements.
the dry humping became more urgent.
the towel had ridden up completely around your waist, and only his jeans separated you now.
every time you rocked forward, his hard length rubbed perfectly against your clit, making you whimper into his mouth.
steve’s nose pressed against the side of your eye again as he angled his head to kiss you even more desperately.
tongue sliding deep.
lips locked on your upper lip like he couldn’t get enough of it.
without warning, steve gripped your hips and flipped you onto your back on the bed.
you gasped as he moved over you, settling his body between your spread legs. the towel had completely fallen open, barely covering anything anymore.
steve leaned down and kissed you hard again, then moved to your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin as he pressed his hard cock against your bare pussy through his jeans.
“fuck, you smell so good,” he groaned against your neck, inhaling deeply. “fresh out of the shower… all warm and soft. i could eat you up right now.”
you whimpered, arching your back and rolling your hips up against him.
“steve… please…”
he lifted his head, eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you.
“please what, baby? use your words. tell me what you want.”
“touch me… please. i need you or your fingers.” your cheeks burned, but the ache between your legs won.
steve smirked, clearly pleased.
“that’s my good girl.” he brought two fingers to your lips. “first, suck.”
you obediently opened your mouth and took his fingers in, sucking them slowly while looking up at him. you swirled your tongue around them, getting them nice and wet.
steve groaned at the sight, his cock twitching against you.
“fuck, look at you…” he muttered, voice thick. “sucking my fingers like you would my cock. so fucking pretty.”
after a few seconds he pulled them out with a wet pop and immediately slid them down between your legs.
he rubbed your soaked pussy slowly, teasing your clit before pushing two thick fingers inside you.
you moaned loudly, back arching off the bed.
“shit, you’re so wet already,” steve breathed, pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. “this pussy is dripping for me. you’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”
“yes…” you gasped, hips moving to meet his fingers. “steve… faster, please.”
he leaned down to kiss you again, sucking on your upper lip while his fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust.
“greedy girl,” he whispered hotly against your mouth. “you want more? want me to make you cum before i fuck you?”
you could only moan in response, nodding desperately as his fingers pumped faster, curling and rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you.
steve kept kissing you deeply, occasionally breaking away to suck and bite your upper lip while his thumb circled your swollen clit.
“that’s it, baby,” he growled against your lips. “fuck my fingers like a good little slut. you’re so fucking wet… i can hear how much this pussy needs me.”
your hips bucked wildly against his hand.
the pleasure built fast and intense until it finally crashed over you.
you came hard around his fingers, back arching off the bed as you cried out his name.
steve didn’t stop, working you through your orgasm with slow, deep strokes until you were trembling and breathless.
he finally pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean while staring down at you with dark eyes.
“delicious,” he murmured.
steve then tugged the towel completely off your body, tossing it aside.
he started kissing down your neck, your collarbones, sucking on your tits and swirling his tongue around your nipples before continuing lower.
he kissed and licked down your stomach, taking his time, until he settled between your legs. he looked up at you, eyes locked with yours as he spread your thighs wider.
without warning, he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your soaked pussy.
you arched sharply, a loud moan escaping your lips. steve groaned against you.
“fuck, you taste even better than i remembered.” he buried his face deeper, nose pressing against your clit as he licked and sucked eagerly.
his nose kept brushing and nudging against your sensitive bundle of nerves every time he moved, adding to the overwhelming sensation.
“look at me,” he demanded, glancing up at you while his tongue flicked rapidly over your clit. “i want to see your face while i eat this pretty pussy.”
you could barely keep your eyes open, but you tried, one hand gripping his hair tightly as he devoured you.
steve sucked your clit into his mouth, humming in satisfaction, then pushed his tongue inside you, fucking you with it while his nose continued rubbing against your clit.
“you’re so fucking wet for me,” he groaned between licks. “such a needy little thing… cum on my tongue, baby. i want to feel you falling apart again.”
the combination of his tongue inside you and his nose pressing rhythmically against your swollen clit quickly pushed you over the edge. your legs shook violently around his head as you came with a loud, broken moan, thighs clamping around him.
steve kept licking you through it, savoring every drop until you were a trembling, oversensitive mess.
when he finally pulled back, his lips and chin were shiny..
you were still catching your breath when you pushed yourself up, moving onto your knees in front of him on the bed.
your hands reached eagerly for his belt, fingers working quickly to undo it.
steve watched you with dark, hungry eyes, but just as you started to pull the belt open, he grabbed your wrists gently but firmly, stopping you.
“not yet,” he murmured.
he cupped your face with both hands, tilting your head up.
then he leaned down and kissed you deeply, making sure you could taste yourself on his tongue. the kiss was slow, filthy, and possessive.
you moaned into his mouth as you tasted your own wetness on his lips and tongue.
when he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.
“go ahead, baby,” he whispered, voice rough. “now you can take it out.” he released your wrists, letting you continue.
your hands immediately returned to his belt, unbuckling it with shaky fingers before working on the button and zipper of his jeans.
steve groaned deeply, hips twitching forward into your touch.
“fuck… baby, please,” he rasped. “don’t tease me. i’ve been hard for you since i climbed through that window.”
you smiled up at him, continuing to stroke him slowly over the fabric, feeling him throb under your hand.
steve let out a low desperate sound, his head falling back slightly.
“shit… your hand feels so good. please, just touch it already.”
encouraged by his begging, you finally slipped your hand inside his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his hard cock.
he was hot, heavy, and hard.
you stroked him a few times, your thumb brushing over the leaking tip.
steve moaned, louder this time.
“that’s it… just like that. fuck, your hand—”
you didn’t wait any longer.
you pulled his boxers down, freeing his cock. without hesitation, you leaned forward and took him into your mouth, sucking on the head before sliding down as far as you could.
“fuuuck—” steve groaned, his hand immediately going to the back of your head. “just like that, baby. good girl… sucking my cock so well.”
he gathered your damp hair into a makeshift ponytail, wrapping it around his fist.
you bobbed your head, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling around him as you sucked.
steve’s grip on your hair tightened, guiding your movements as he gently fucked your mouth.
“look at me,” he breathed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “i love watching you with my dick in your mouth.”
his other hand caressed your cheek as you worked him, occasionally pushing a little deeper, making you gag softly around him.
steve’s groans grew louder, his hips moving in shallow thrusts as he held your hair firmly in his fist.
you took him deeper, sucking harder, your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock while your hand stroked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.
steve’s breathing became ragged, his grip on your hair tightening.
“fuck— baby, i’m close,” he warned, voice strained. “gonna cum in that pretty mouth if you keep going like that…” you didn’t pull away.
instead, you moaned around him and sucked harder, looking up at him with watery eyes.
that was all it took. steve let out a deep, guttural groan as he came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling into your mouth.
“swallow it,” he growled, still holding your hair. “all of it, baby. good girl…”
you swallowed every drop, looking up at him as you did.
steve watched you with pure lust in his eyes, breathing heavily. he pulled you up and kissed you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue, before gently pushing you onto your back.
he settled between your spread legs, his still-hard cock resting heavy against your soaked pussy.
he was very big —thick and long— and he knew it.
steve looked down at you, his eyes dark.
“gonna go slow, okay baby? i don’t want to hurt you.”
he laced his fingers with yours, pinning your hand beside your head, and squeezed gently. then he slowly started pushing inside you.
you gasped as the thick head stretched you open. steve groaned deeply, forehead pressed against yours.
“fuck… so tight,” he breathed, his rough with pleasure voice. “look at you taking my cock so well. such a good girl for me.”
he pushed in another inch, slow and careful, watching your face the entire time.
“that’s it… breathe for me, baby. you’re doing so fucking good. taking every inch like you were made for it.”
you whimpered as he kept sinking deeper, stretching you wide. steve kept whispering praises.
“so fucking pretty when you’re full of me… you feel that? feel how deep i am?” when he finally bottomed out, buried to the hilt inside you, he stayed still, letting you adjust.
he squeezed your hand tighter, fingers still perfectly interlaced with yours.
“you okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, kissing your lips. “you’re so tight around me… gripping my cock so perfectly. i could stay like this forever.”
he started moving then — slow, deep thrusts, rolling his hips carefully as he kissed you again.
“such a good fucking girl,” he praised between thrusts. “taking all of me so well… i’m so proud of you, baby.”
steve kept your fingers tightly interlaced, squeezing your hand as he fucked you.
at first his thrusts were slow and deep, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open. the wet sound of him sliding in and out of your soaked pussy filled the room.
“fuck, Steve…” you moaned, squeezing his hand back. “it feels so big… right there…”
“that’s it, baby,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “right there? you like it when i fuck you deep like this?”
he gradually picked up the pace, thrusting harder and faster. the bed started creaking beneath you.
steve’s grip on your hand tightened as he drove into you with more intensity.
“fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, voice rough. “this pussy was made for my cock. look at you taking every inch like a good little slut.”
without warning, steve pulled out of you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness.
he grabbed your thighs and easily lifted you up. you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you across the room and pressed you against the desk.
the wood creaked under the impact as he pinned you there. steve lined himself up and pushed back inside you in one slow, deep thrust, groaning loudly at how tight you felt.
“fuck… yes,” he growled against your neck.
he started fucking you against the dresser with slow, intense strokes.
every thrust was powerful and deliberate, his hips rolling deeply into you. the dresser shook with each thrust, the mirror rattling softly behind you.
he started fucking you against the dresser with slow, intense strokes.
every thrust was powerful and deliberate, his hips rolling deeply into you. the table shook with each thrust.
steve kept one hand under your thigh for support while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave marks.
he buried his face in your neck, sucking and biting as he fucked you passionately.
“you feel so fucking good like this,” he groaned, voice low and rough. “pressed against the desk… taking my cock so deep. such a perfect little fucktoy for me.”
you moaned loudly, nails digging into his shoulders.
“steve… oh god, it’s so deep—”
he growled in response and picked up the rhythm slightly, still keeping each thrust slow and intense, making sure you felt every single inch.
the angle was perfect, his cock hitting that sensitive spot inside you with every roll of his hips.
“look at me, baby,” he demanded, forehead pressed against yours. “i want to see your face while i fuck you like this.”
you kept your eyes on his, moaning with every deep, powerful thrust.
steve fucked you harder against the dresser, his hips snapping forward as he chased his pleasure.
his grip on your thigh was almost bruising, the other hand still holding yours tightly.
“fuck, i’m so close,” he groaned, voice strained. “you’re gonna make me cum so hard, baby…”
you were both right on the edge when the bedroom door suddenly swung open.
nancy stood there, eyes wide with shock.
for a second, everything froze.
steve was buried deep inside you, your legs wrapped around his waist, both of you completely naked and sweaty.
nancy’s mouth fell open.
“what the—?!” she gasped, her face turning bright red. “oh my god!” she immediately turned around and slammed the door shut behind her, but not before muttering a stunned “what the fuck…”
steve groaned in frustration, forehead dropping to your shoulder.
“shit…”
you were both breathing hard, hearts racing.
he slowly pulled out of you, setting you down on shaky legs.
your knees nearly gave out, but he caught you, holding you against his chest for a moment.
“we have to get dressed,” you whispered urgently, still flushed and trembling. “they’re probably all waiting for us.”
steve nodded, kissing you quickly on the forehead. “yeah… fuck. bad timing.’’
you both rushed to get dressed — you throwing on whatever clothes you could find, steve pulling up his jeans and fixing his shirt.
the air was thick with frustration and leftover arousal.
once you were both decent, you took a deep breath and opened the door.
steve followed right behind you.
the moment you stepped into the hallway, the atmosphere shifted.
nancy was standing a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
her face was still flushed with embarrassment, but now it was mixed with clear annoyance and discomfort.
she looked at both of you, her jaw tight.
“everyone’s waiting in the living room,” she said, her voice colder than usual. “we’ve been ready for twenty minutes.”
her eyes flicked between you and steve, lingering a second longer on him.
steve cleared his throat, trying to sound casual.
“yeah, sorry about that. we… got distracted.”
nancy let out a sharp humorless laugh.
“distracted. right.” she looked at you again, her expression unreadable. “you might want to fix your hair before we go. it’s a mess.”
warning: SMUT MDNI , making out, teasing, praise, kissing, oral ( f receiving ), fingering, unprotected piv, confessing feelings
note: the new photos of Joe he’s just so beautiful 🥲 @digitalxcandle inspired me with the biceps bite so credits to her💕🤭
part 1
The night felt like a dream. Seeing your favourite artist live for the first time and your best friend confessing his feelings for you? Definitely a dream.
Joe said a quick goodbye to his band mates and immediately left with you, holding hands. You could hear Dalton and Javi hyping each other up by seeing you two together like that.
“I told you I was going to win the bet” one of them yelled
“Joe are we going to the bus?” you asked.
“Bus? Honey, no, I’m taking you to my hotel room,” he winked, placing his phone on his ear to make a call.
A smile tugged at your lips. While Joe was talking on the phone he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.
Two minutes later a taxi pulled up and you both settled into the backseat. The drive to the hotel was 10 minutes long. Throughout the journey Joe couldn’t resist touching you. He was either kissing you or resting his hand on your inner thigh.
The hotel was stunning. A five star hotel, the lobby was incredible. High ceilings with beautiful sparkly lights that made a beautiful atmosphere.
Joe talked to the receptionist while you waited by the side. Once he got the keys to the room, he grabbed your hand and started walking fast to the elevator.
The elevator was on one of the higher floors which took longer to come down. Joe kept impatiently pressing on the button.
“Joe you’re gonna break the button calm down”
“Honey I don’t think that I could wait much longer”
“And why’s that?” you asked
“Because I have this beautiful girl by my side, do you know her?”
“Hmm never heard of her”
He came closer to your ear “I’m going to undress her and kiss every inch of her body” he whispered
“And fuck me” you said
Joe looked cut off guard from what you just said.
“Mhm you don’t know what’s waiting for you up there”
“Only one way to find out”
Suddenly you heard a ding, and the doors of the elevator opened.
Joe stepped inside and pressed the fifth-floor button. He grabbed your waist and pulled you close.
His mouth immediately found yours, diving into a hungry kiss. He kissed you like he wanted to take away your breath, and lets be real he did.
“Joe-“ You moaned against his lips
“I know honey I know” he continued kissing you down on your neck, and sucking on a spot under your ear that made you wetter than before.
Then the elevator stopped moving and slowly opened it’s doors.
Joe picked you up in a bridal style and walked towards the hotel room.
The moment he walked inside he lowered you on the bed, grabbed your hands and pinned them on each side of your head.
“You’re driving me crazy” he started kissing you again.
His tongue slid into your mouth when you felt his hips grinding against your pelvis. You couldn’t help it but moan, feeling his hard on.
“Joe-“ you moaned
“Baby I haven’t even touched you properly and you’re already moaning my name” he chuckled.
He removed his shirt, exposing his freckled chest and torso that made your mind go blank. Your eyes quickly studied him, har across his chest and a happy trail that traveled down his boxers. Your imagination was going wild.
Then he grabbed your shirt and slowly took it off while looking at you deeply. His breath hitched when he saw your black lacy bra.
“Fuck me” he whispered under his breath.
“Im starting to get impatient here you’re taking too long” you complain
“You want faster?” he asked as he unclasped your bra in one move.
He quickly removed it, and once he saw your breasts it’s like he couldn’t believe himself.
“And this whole time you hid these from me?” he said as his mouth immediately found yours nipple, licking and sucking on it.
Your back arched off the bed, you could feel yourself throbbing and aching for his touch.
“S’pretty” he murmured between kisses.
He kneaded one breast whole he sucked on the other. Your whole body got goosebumps from his touch. His mouth was way too good, you wondered how it would feel if he ate you out.
You were about to find out.
He started trailing kisses from between your breasts and down your stomach. Circling his tongue inside your belly button, you felt a feeling that was unfamiliar but way too good.
“Joe please-“
“Getting there baby be patient” he gently started unbuttoning your jeans. When he saw the matching panties his brain froze.
“Yeah best friends my ass” he said then caught the panties with his teeth and started talking them off. During all of this his eyes stared deeply into yours, filled with lust and hunger.
He started slowly kissing your inner thighs and your groin.
“You were always more than a friend to me” he said, his breath fanning at your core.
You could feel yourself desperately throbbing and needy for his touch. Squeezing your eyes shut “Touch me” you breathed out.
“You’ve always been this impatient huh?” he chuckled and dived in between your legs.
His mouth sucked your folds and his tongue slid between them, making your back arch off the bed.
“She’s dripping for me baby”
Your hands found his hair immediately, slightly tugging it.
“More”
“You’re that desperate honey?” he asked and shoved two fingers in your hole with no warning, making you see stars.
“Joseph!”
“Mhm keep screaming my name, my desperate girl” he started thrusting his fingers faster, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm.
“So wet and sweet”
Then suddenly he removed his fingers, making you whimper.
“No please-“
He placed his finger on your mouth shushing you “shh baby I’ll fuck you now don’t worry”
Removing his pants and underwear, you felt your throat tighten by his size. He was huge, you’ve been only with one guy and compared to him, there was a huge difference.
“Like what you see don’t you” he winked, lining himself up with you.
“Joe please do something-ah”
He drilled into you with no warning, making your head fall back in the pillows and let out the loudest moan. The people in the hotel probably already hated you, but you didn’t care.
“What were you saying darling?” he asked smirking.
“Fuck you” you squeezed his biceps
“Oh I am” he fastened his pace
He grabbed your legs, wrapping them around your waist and hovered over you, reaching a deeper angle.
Bringing up his muscular arm in front of your face, he said “Go on bite them, i know how much you like them”
You wasted no time attaching your teeth to his biceps, biting hard but not too hard.
He furrowed his brows and hissed, you started sucking on the muscle, afraid that you’re gonna hurt him if you continue on biting.
“Yeah just like that” he groaned
“Joe harder I-“
“You want harder? You’ll get harder”
Suddenly you were flipped on your stomach and Joe behind you. He picked up your hips in the air, while your face laid on the pillow.
“You wanted this didn’t you?” he whispered behind you against your ear.
“Yes oh my-“
“You’re mine you hear me? Mine” He started thrusting even more harder, getting you close to your orgasm.
“I’m done pretending, gosh you’re unreal” he panted
“Joe-“
“Go on scream my name, let everyone know who you belong to” he bit your earlobe.
“Im clo-close” you tried getting words out of your mouth.
“Cmon come undone for me” he chuckled “You’re so cock drunk sweetheart”
Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, spilling all over him.
“Yeah just like that” he moaned “You’re squeezing me so hard jesus”
After a few more thrusts he followed with his orgasm, filling you up so much you swear you could feel him in your stomach.
Then he removed himself and laid beside you, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you closer.
He brushed your hair out of your face, admiring you.
“Did i hurt you?”
You shook your head “No”
He gently kissed your left cheek.
“Do you want to know something?” he asked
“Mhm”
“Remember last year when I kissed you on the cheek?”
“Yeah?”
“That was the day I realised I was in love with you”
“What?” you asked confused
That day you found out you got cheated on by your boyfriend. Joe spent three hours confronting you.
“Yep, and I still love you”
“I love you too” you confessed, feeling your heart pound inside your chest.
taglist: @littlefacgirl - since you asked for part 2!) @hexyissy @yailology @jas-mines-things @oohlillie @sweatydjoshoes @us3r4682
summary: Your best friend Joe takes you on a tour with his band to see Tame Impala. However, during his set, an unspeakable tension develops between you two.
warning: cussing, feeling nervous, teasing, Joe rolling his hips into the mic stand😵💫, kissing, confessing feelings.
note: that backwards hat goodbye.🫠 also writing this because i am experiencing the biggest fomo of this tour.
Ever since “Currents” by Tame Impala was released, you’ve longed to experience it live. Now, your wish was coming true. Because your best friend - Joe is taking you on tour with him since he is the opener for Tame Impala.
You’ve talked his ear off about Tame, he knew how much his music meant to you. He would feel guilty if he didn’t take you to at least one show of his.
Now you’re on the tour bus with Joe’s band, driving to the arena in Atlanta.
Joe’s team gave you permission to take your camera with you and take photos of them while they’re on stage. You planned to take photos throughout the whole trip, because this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, you wanted to have memories as much as possible.
“With what song are you opening?” you asked Joe, he was sat on the opposite side of the booth in the bus, scribbling lyrics in his notebook probably for a new song.
“Not telling you”
“Oh cmon at least the first song!”
You asked about the setlist, but he said that it’s a “surprise”
“No”
“Pleaasseee”
“No”
“Okay i’ll just go ask Javi” you replied as started standing up.
“No no okay I’ll tell you” you turned around and sat down.
“Im listening”
“It’s awake” oh my, your favourite song?
“No way”
“Yes way” Joe said, taking a sip out of his coffee mug
“That’s such a good song for the opening!”
“Mhm I know”
“Okay now what is the second one” you asked smiling
“Im not falling for your tricks you know that”
You just sighed out loud, acting disappointed.
There was some kind of feeling in your body, excitement? but also nervous. You couldn’t really tell what you felt. On the other side, you saw Joe putting on his bracelet as his leg moved up and down. He was definitely nervous, this meant so much to him and to his career, he was cared of messing up. He concealed his nerves, but small things like talking less and his leg moving up and down betrayed him.
On the other side of the bus, you saw Dalton inging “Pie in the sky” with his headphones in his ears, dancing around without a single care in the world.
But then your attention turned back to Joe, he went silent, awfully silent. You stood up from your seat and sat down next to him, his gaze was focused down on the floor and then to you.
“You nervous?”
“No”
“Joe”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t lie to me” you said
“Okay I am a little” he admitted
“It’s okay to be nervous, this is a huge thing you’re doing. It’s totally alright to feel some kind of emotion”
“Thank you”
He wrapped his hand around your shoulders, pulling you closer.
His band mates always teased both of you that one day you’ll start dating. Yeah sure there were some moments where it felt like you were more than friends, but none of you made the first big move.
Putting your favourite song first on the setlist? Maybe on a accident, right?
Taking you on the whole tour with them? That’s what friends do, right?
Getting into a fight with your ex boyfriend 5 months ago because he cheated on you? Thats what he deserved, right?
Knowing your go to meal when you’re on your period? Taking care of you, right?
Cracking one of his teasing corny jokes while you’re sad? Just to make you laugh, right?
Or maybe, just maybe, you were more than friends.
Walking into the arena felt like a dream, the stage? It was an enormous circle, with instruments in the centre. Joe explained to you how you could walk all around to take pictures, the security won’t make a problem.
“Where’s your mic stand?” you asked
“It’s that one in the centre” he pointed out, coming closer to you so you could see where his finger pointing at. You could feel the warmth of his body and his expensive smelling cologne.
You’ll admit he occasionally made you nervous but you chose to ignore it. After all, he was your best friend.
In exactly 5 minutes they were supposed to be on stage, the arena was pretty filled up. One of the fans saw that you’re a “photographer” for them and gave you a bracelet that said “djo 29” It was so cute you wore it the whole entire night.
The moment they stepped on the stage, the fans went crazy. When Joe approached his mic stand his eyes immediately landed on you, giving you a wink.
You shot him a smile and thumbs up, signalling that everything is going great.
He grabbed his Gibson guitar and began strumming. All of them were seriously so talented.
“Up on a hill
Blue eyes made of plastic”
The moment the crowd heard those lyrics, all you could hear behind you were screams. Seeing them being this excited for Joe made your heart melt, because he deserved all of the support.
You walked around, taking pictures of the band but also of some fans. You saw a girl with a poster that had Gator Tillman on it. That was your favourite character Joe played. The girl immediately posed when you asked her to take a picture of it.
When Gap Tooth Smile started, you couldn’t help it but sing the whole entire song.
What really confused you is Joe staring at you the whole entire time during the song. One time he took the microphone and squatted at the edge of the stage, singing to you.
He got you feeling so nervous , you pulled out your camera to take a picture of him. Your hear was pounding furiously in your chest.
It felt like you blacked out during that song, Joe’s whole attention span was on you, singing the lyrics. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Later when they started playing Egg, the crowd went even wilder. Joe gave his everything while performing this song.
You took a lot of pictures in the meantime, the colorful lights coming from the ceiling made the pictures look ten times better.
Standing in front Joe while he sang the bridge of Egg, he looked ridiculously good. You couldn’t help it but look at the veins on his neck every time he sang a higher note.
“Back to the egg, it's crimson and gold (crimson and gold)
I'll follow the rules and do what I'm told”
He was looking straight at you during the bridge until his hips rolled towards the microphone stand.
You could feel your cheeks burning and throat tighten. You felt frozen, you couldn’t move. There is no way he did that while looking directly into your eyes.
You continued on taking pictures of the others just to avoid what just happened.
After they finished, Joe told you earlier to wait for him in the VIP area. He said that he will join you once they finish. Ten minutes later you saw a group for there guys approach you - Joe, Javi and Dalton. They looked so hyped after their first show, smiling from ear to ear.
When you saw Joe, you couldn’t believe yourself. He wore a backwards hat and a white t shirt and showed off his toned body. Hate to admit it, but he looked so good, you couldn’t take your eyes off him.
“Hey there!” Joe yelled as he approached you, his arms outstretched for a hug.
“You guys did amazing!” you said as you hugged all three of them.
“Thank you it was crazy out there” Dalton said.
“I took some really really good pictures” you said proudly.
“Tonight back in the bus you’re gonna show us all of them” Javi joined the conversation, taking a sip of his beer.
Javi and Dalton both left you two alone, to go grab some snacks.
You were left alone with Joe, he stood right beside you, your shoulders touching from time to time.
“So how did you like it?” he asked
“I loved it!”
“What?” he couldn’t hear you from the loud arena
You tiptoed up to his ear and said “I said I loved it!”
He smiled “I’m really glad, you’re about to love it even more”
About 15 minutes later Kevin got on the stage. It felt unreal, seeing him live after all of these years. You felt so happy, singing the songs out loud and dancing to them. Joe joined you during “Let It Happen” dancing around together without a single care. All of this felt like an unreal dream.
You saw Javi holding up your camera and trying to figure out how to take photos, while Dalton tried to explain but he didn’t listen to him. They looked like two little kids arguing.
Joe grabbed his hat and placed it on your head, and he started laughing because of how big the hat was for your head.
When it started falling off your head, you placed it back on Joe’s head and whispered into his ear “It looks better on you”. You decided to tease him after what he had done during egg.
“You think so?” he smirked
“Mhmm”
He shook his head laughing.
There was tension between you two the entire night, it was the only thing you could feel it at the moment.
When “Loser” started playing you got all excited and started singing it to Joe, while he stood there laughing.
“I fell into ya, I fell into ya
Tried to correct it, well, shit, I wrecked it”
You turn your head enough just to catch him staring with his hazel eyes.
“Cmon sing” you smacked his shoulder. He shook his head no.
You held onto the barricade, and then you felt Joe shift from beside you to behind you. His hands caged you between him and the barricade. You could feel his chest against your back. And something poking you on your lower back, is it what you thought it is?
“Oh, my love, can't you see that you're on my mind?” You sang out the lyrics loudly.
Joe’s face drew nearer to your ear and he teased, “Am I?”
You felt your body heated up again.
You slightly turned your face back to him “Maybe” you bit your lip, his eyes immediately saw that.
You both stayed like that, looking at each other’s eyes and not saying a single word. It felt like you two were the only people existing.
Suddenly the concert ended. As Joe heard Kevin say goodbye he grabbed your hand and guided you towards an unfamiliar room. When you entered it you realised this is their dressing room.
“Tell me” Joe said. His eyes looked darker now.
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me that you didn’t feel something back there” he sounded so serious.
“I wha-“
“- Tell me that you didn’t feel anything when I sang Gap Tooth Smile directly at you” He said with his voice shaky
“I felt everything Joe, everything!”
He wasted no time cupping your jaw and kissing you deeply. It wasn’t a soft kiss, it was one filled with hunger and lust. Years of bottled up feelings finally coming out. Your head was spinning.
His hands grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against him.
Your hands wrapped around his neck trying to pull him even more closer. Your noses would touch every time you deepened into the kiss, making you chuckle.
Joe kissed you like it was just the two of you in this world, his hands gripped your waist, afraid that you’d disappear if he let go of you.
You had the thoughts of wondering if Joe was a good kisser, his lips always looked so soft. Turns out he was really good at kissing, you were melting under his touch.
He broke the kiss, panting because of the lack of air in his lungs.
“Holy shit” he rested his forehead against yours
“Holy shit” you whispered.
“I can’t believe that happened” he said
“Well it did” you chuckled “Wait are Javi and Dalton still betting on us?”
“Uh yeah I’m pretty sure Javi just lost the bet”
“He maybe lost something, but i gained something really really nice” he whispered in your ear.
“Hmm like what”
“A really beautiful girl that makes my mind go crazy”
“You’re too cheesy” you smacked his chest.
“Hmm you say so? Let me ask you something, did you like the part during Egg?” he smirked
“What part?”
“Oh you know exactly what part”
“Oh - that” you felt your cheeks burn
His mouth found your earlobe and kissed it before whispering, “I bet you liked it” and gently biting it.
“You made me go crazy I started imagining that you’re the mic stand” he said
“You can’t just say that!”
“Oh yes i can baby” baby. The nickname.
“Tonight, back in the hotel, I will make love to you to catch up on all of the lost time” he kissed your neck.
“mhm”
“Oh you like that? How about here?” he asked as he kissed the other side of your neck.
“Joe please I-“
“This is just the start honey”
Taglist: @jas-mines-things @hexyissy @yailology @oohlillie (comment if you want to be tagged❤️)
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pairing: joe keery x reader
summary: your boyfriend helps you to face one of your biggest insecurities and asks you to sit on his face so he can taste you properly.
warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+ mdni, established relationship, thumb sucking, oral (f receiving), self-doubts and insecurities, face sitting, pussy eating (or more pussy drinking), slight fingering, lots of fluff, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns for reader
word count: 2k
authors note: thank you @oohlillie for your request. i know it literally took me ages to write it, but i was in a really bad need for joe these past days (i wonder why) and just took it to go with the flow. i hope you like how it turned out! ₊˚⊹ᰔ inspired by the song waking up slow
the summer heat came with no mercy. and this year it somehow hit even harder than the past, the sun so strong it was almost burning you alive just because you dared to step outside.
today, there was no difference. and even though it was only in the early morning hours, it already got so hot that you started sweating in your sleep.
that was one of the things which woke you up.
that and…
“joe, baby. what are you doing?” you sighed softly, the words turning into a little giggle at the end as you felt his nose nudge against the skin of your neck, his light stubble tickling you.
he didn’t answer, only shifted his weight on the mattress behind you, pressing his hips closer into the curve of your ass.
that’s when you felt it, his hard morning wood twitching against the soft flesh of your cheeks, drawing a little whimper from your lips.
his reaction was instant, burying his face deeper into your neck and inhaling the sweet scent of you—honey and something he was sure it must be greek yogurt. “yeah, you definitely smell like breakfast,” he hummed, rutting his hips against you, desperate for more friction.
you couldn’t help but giggle again, your head falling back against his shoulder while he still used your ass to get himself off.
but before it could go any further, you turned around in his arms, slipping one knee in between his legs, pressing up against his crotch. “you’re so desperate,” you teased and he growled, leaning forward to catch your lips in a slow kiss.
“i’m always desperate when it comes to you, honey,” he replied, his hand coming down on your thigh, squeezing the soft skin there.
“yeah?” you challenged, grinning up at him as you lifted your brows, your hands cradling his face. “totally,” he all but sighed, meeting your lips once more.
what started as a soft and gentle kiss, quickly turned into something hungry and deep, your mouth opening on its own, granting him entry. joe took the invitation immediately, his tongue diving into the heat of your mouth, tasting every wet inch with the same intensity.
he only pulled away to gasp for air, leaving you completely breathless and needy, heat pulsing through your body, gathering between your legs. you pressed your thighs together, what wasn’t so easy with your leg between his. and when he noticed, he didn’t let you, just pushed his knee up forcing your legs to fall apart.
you knew he had you right where he wanted you, desperate and aching for him just like he was for you. “fuck, joe. it’s too hot, i really don’t wanna move more than out of bed and into a cold shower,” you whined and he laughed heartily.
“come on, honey. that’s what makes it so much more exciting.” his arm wrapped around your smaller form, pressing you closer against his warm chest, the sweat on your skin sticking you together.
“ugh, you’re gross,” you snorted, shaking your head as you tried to slip out of his grip and away from his sweat slicked body. but he held you against him firmly, lowering his head down to your neck.
“mmmm, i don’t think it’s gross,” he muttered, blowing a cold breath against one spot, sending a shiver down your spine. “it’s new. and by the way, we already shared much different body fluids, didn’t we?”
he didn’t leave you time to respond, his tongue darting out to lick a long stripe from your collarbone up to the sensitive spot behind your ear.
“fucking hell, joseph,” you moaned sofly, the drag of his hot tongue against your already heated skin only fueling the fire on the inside and his grinning face appeared back in your field of view. “feels good?” he asked, and you smacked his bicep “you’re such a tease and i hate you,” you declared, taking the opportunity to scoot away from him.
“you love me,” he corrected immediately, catching you by your waist with both hands and rolling you on top of him so you were straddling his waist.
your hair sticked to your sweaty skin, some strands falling into your face and it was like time slowed down. “god, you’re so beautiful,” joe breathed out, one hand coming up to brush your hair back, his hand slipping into the back of your neck, guiding you down and meeting you halfway for another kiss.
his tongue instantly brushed over your lips, silently asking for entrance and you opened up again, moaning softly into his mouth while he devoured you whole.
“i need to taste you,” he breathed against your lips and you pulled away with a cocky smile. “you already have,” you replied, rubbing the tip of your nose against his.
joe shook his head this time, his hand holding your jaw, thumb tracing your bottom lip, still wet from the kiss, smearing his saliva around there. “you know what i mean, don’t play dumb, gorgeous.”
“but i-“ you began, only to get cut off by his thumb, slipping past your lips, silencing you.
he pressed his finger down on your tongue, watching how your lips closed around it, sucking gently. then, he pulled it out with a wet pop, and took the hem of the tank top you wore for sleep (besides your panties).
you let him, giving him permission by lifting your hands over your head so he could get rid of it. and as soon it was off, his hands were on your bare breasts, cupping the heavy weight of them.
“so fucking perfect,” he whispered under his breath, squeezing them softly and your head fell back into your neck with a small gasp.
you were still sweating but the pleasure took over your body and you couldn’t help but grind your hips down against the bulge in his briefs. “shit,” he hissed, his pupils dilating under the growing desire and his hands wandered down your body, both index fingers dipping into the waistband of your black lace panties.
he tugged them down as best as he could and you giggled, helping him get them off, the fabric following your tank top to the floor.
you expected him to roll you over then, to pin you underneath him and dive his face between your legs. but what he did instead, left you hesitant. joe’s grip on your hips tightened as he urged you to move forward, up his body. “what are you doing?” you asked, a little irritated even a little nervous, your gazes colliding like galaxies.
“hey…” he mumbled, his thumbs tracing soothing circles against your hip. “you trust me, right?”
this time, there was no hesitating. “of course. you know i do. but… we never did it before and honestly, i think-“ joe cut you off once more, a caring smile on his lips.
“don’t think then. just… trust me and feel.” his hands supported you as you kept crawling higher, stopping before you settled into place right over his face. “are you sure? i mean… you know what happens in this position and it’s hot… i was sweating and…”
“what did i just tell you?” he interrupted you gently. “don’t think. just… let me take care of you.”
with that, he guided you the last inches so you were positioned over his mouth, his breath hot against your center.
“joe, i don’t think it’s-“ the thought vanished into thin air when he dragged his fingers through your wet folds, making your upper body fall forward and you had to brace yourself against the headboard of the bed.
“oh my god,” you moaned, closing your eyes as he added another finger, parting your lips, causing your arousal to spill out. it dripped down, right onto his waiting tongue and you could hear a low hum coming from underneath you.
“don’t hold back, baby. let me feel it all,” he said and you were just about to ask what he meant when he already pulled you down on his face completely, diving his tongue deep into your tight hole.
you moaned out deeply, your knuckles turning white as you held on to the headboard, sparks of pleasure exploding in your abdomen while he worked his sinful mouth over your aching pussy.
his big hands held your restless hips in place, not allowing you to move away as if he was begging you to let him drown in your arousal.
“joe…oh—fuck—“ you cried out desperately, the tip of his nose pumping against your clit with every lap of his greedy tongue, drinking up every drop of your essence you offered to him.
but you still couldn’t let yourself go, the fear to suffocate him too strong. just as if he could sense that something was off, he pushed your hips away a little, running his damp nose along the inside of your thigh.
“ride my face, baby. take what you need just like you take my cock,” he urged you but you shook your head. “i don’t wanna hurt you. yet alone drown you,” you protested, jumping instantly when he gave the flesh of your thigh a small lovebite.
“you won’t. trust me, you won’t,” he insisted. “just let your body take over and see what happens. do it for me, okay baby?”
and with that, he dived back in, slurping up the slick that gathered between your folds, the sound echoing through the room.
your head fell back into your neck once again, pure and raw need taking control of your body and you grind your hips down against his face.
it earned a deep growl from him that vibrated against your inner walls, causing them to clench around his searching tongue.
the soft squeeze of his fingers on your hip was his sign that he wanted you to do it again, and his tongue trailed up to circle your clit with just the right amount of pressure, sucking here and there.
and that was what shattered your fears.
“f-fuck, don’t stop…” you whimpered, the scratch of his beard against the insides of your things almost making you lose your mind and you finally let the lust take over your body.
you hips ground down, desperate to feel him deeper, his moans shooting sparks up your spine, nose bumping against your clit.
you rode his face like you used to ride his cock, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten fast. and you knew what was about to come.
“joe… oh god, baby. i’m gonna—i’m gonna cum,” you moaned, your movements becoming sloppier and uncoordinated. “yeah, jus’ like that. cum on my tongue, baby,” your heard joe through the pleasure and only seconds later, your orgasm crashed down on you.
and as always when you were on top, you couldn’t control what was about to happen. and with the waves of pleasure, your pussy convulsed and you squirted all over his face, drowning him in your sweet release.
it didn’t stop, wave after wave, pulse after pulse and joe took it all. he drank from you, like he was lost in the desert and you were the only water he could find, little slurping sounds bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom.
and when you finally came down from your high, you sank forward, your forehead resting against the edge of the headboard, joe’s face still between your legs, still lapping up what you could give him, the aftershocks causing your thighs to tremble violently.
only when he was sure he got it all, he helped you climb off of him, rolling you onto your back and leaned over your spent form.
his lips and chin glistened from your juices, lips swollen and pupils still blown wide while he rubbed his thumb softly over your cheekbone.
“you’ve been so good f’me baby,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss you, giving you a taste of yourself on his tongue. “wasn’t that bad, wasn’t it?” he added, nipping at your bottom lip, making you whine in agreement.
of course, this hadn’t been enough for him.
“now what do you say, honey…ready for the next round?” without waiting for an answer, he slipped down your body, head diving right back between your thighs.
༉‧₊˚.˚Summary: your boyfriend, Spencer reid, has you sexually frustrated from all of his nerdy antics.
✧.*WC: 2k
⊹܀˙CW: Smut, Fluff, reader is so down bad for Spencer (aren’t we all), Spencer wants her just as bad. Breeding!kink (whoops how'd that get there), oral (f-receiving), P in V, drool, afab reader desc, pet names like good girl, sweetheart i think, sweet girl, pretty.
♪‧₊˚A/N: hi all im still gonna write the pain!kink Injured!spencer fic i wrote about in the poll dont think i forgot LMFAOAO heres something to hold you guys off for rn
Your sex drive was average to none before you met Spencer. Your friends would often poke fun at your prudish attitude towards the opposite sex and you’re aversion to putting yourself out there. But the day that you met Spencer Reid when bumbling through a small bookshop on mainstreet and crashing into him (Spilling you’re iced matcha all over him and his newly purchased book) you’ve been obsessed. Not because he’s just such a pretty man, but because of his mind.
You love to hear him talk. Like this one time, he was ranting about how Scott Fitzgerald plagiarized his wife’s writing and how she gets absolutely none of the praise and then you proceed to spend the next ten minutes kneeled in between his legs, giving him the sloppiest, drooliest, head ever.
Or another time when he started talking to you about how Paradise Lost should’ve been written in Latin because its noun cases would better support the structural order that Milton attempted to impose when you guys went for a walk in the park and then you guys steamed up the windows of your vintage ford mustang as he gave you the dicking of a lifetime.
Its so strange to you because in your previous relationships you were never the one to initiate sex. But with Spencer, it’s like an instinct. Yesterday he was rambling to you and usually you’re very attentive to what he has to say but all you’d heard was “blah blah blah lexicon blah blah.” and then out of nowhere he's moaning your name and you’re riding him??? So weird? Like you did you just materialize onto his lap????
This evening is no different. You guys are watching Doctor Who in bed, your head lying on his chest as it rises and falls. The light from the television screen reflects on the slope of his nose and his cheeks. His soft brown eyes are so focused on the TV screen and you need him so so so badly. You need to get your mind off of cracking him… just for a second. You could barely walk today from last night, you need to pump the brakes.
“What’d you do today?”
“We didn’t have a case so the team spent today at the office catching up on paper work,” He smiles down at you. His hand finds the flushed skin below your shirt at your waist. “I went out to get lunch for the team at that bakery you like down the street—I uh actually…—got you a danish from there today for later. It's in the kitchen.” You plant a quick kiss on his lips. Your poor, sweet boyfriend. Sometimes you’re worried that you’re going to break him in half someday because you two go at it so much. You know that he loves to be intimate, especially with you and that your need for him can’t be one sided because he initiates sex a lot too but dammit you can’t help but feel like such a pervert around him all the time.
“Thank you,” You say, exhaling. “What else did you do today?”
“On my way back I played chess in the park with three different people at the same time. It was pretty was fun”
You crawl on top of him, perching yourself in his lap before kissing him slowly as you roll your hips down onto him.
“Yeah?” You exhale, your hands softly running up and down his chest. “Did you win?”
His hands find your waist, and then grope the plush of your ass through your short shorts as he cymbals from the friction against his dick. “I always win.”
You leave a dozen of sloppy kisses trailing down his neck, leaving him whiny and helplessly running his hands over the flesh of your hips.
“Y/n” he says, breathily.
Your head perks up from his neck and you redirect your focus back to his face. “Mhm?” You begin peppering his face with kissing, starting at his cheek.
“Do you get um… aroused whenever I talk about the stuff that I like?”
“I get aroused whenever you talk, period.”
“But specifically, you initiate sex with me the most whenever I'm rambling about the latest book that I’ve re-read or whatever degree that I’m considering on getting next or— my point is.” He sighs, “Do you only initiate sex with me to get me to stop talking? I know that I can ramble on and on but-”
“Spence no, I’d never.” You reassure him, hand cradling his face as he looks up at you, expressioned vulnerable and pleading for you to convince him that you’re being honest. How dare he even think about that. “I love hearing you talk and I think that everything that you have to say is interesting. It’s just— I don't know how to explain it…it kind of just heightens my attraction to you. Its like a catalyst almost.”
“Really?” He asks, unsure.
“Yes, really.” you say, genuinely. He leans forward to meet capture your lips in a kiss. His hands move to your tits, his thumbs immediately finding your nipples and rubbing them through the thin cloth of your camisole. You whine as your back arches from the sudden stimulation goes straight to your core.
“God, Y/N you’re going to be the death of me.” he says before he flips you over onto your back.
“Can I take these off, angel?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your jaw as his fingers find the waistband of your shorts.
“Yes.” you breath out.
He pulls your shorts down and discards them to the side of the bed. You weren’t wearing panties. He sighed at the sight of you glistening with anticipation.
“So wet” he says to himself as he hooks your legs over his shoulders.
He presses a sloppy opened mouth kiss onto your clit before slight opening his mouth and letting a string of drool drip down your cunt, leaving you whining. He flattens his tongue against your opening and licks a fat stripe up your pussy.
“Spencer, please.” You beg, your brain already short circuiting from the stimulation.
He begins lapping at you, each purposeful stroke of his tongue slick with desperation. He groans as your hands find his hair and you buck your hips towards his face when he comes up for air. He re-buries his face in between your legs, hands now gripping and massaging your ass as you clench around nothing. Just as your orgasm is approaching, he plunges his index and middle finger into your soaked core. He sucks harshly on your clit, as his long slender finger his that perfect spot inside of you and you cry out as you come around him. He emerges from in between your legs and plants a kiss onto your lips, the heady taste of yourself still lingering on his tongue.
“Need you. Take this off.” You slur, pawing at his shirt. He obliges, removing his star trek shirt and freeing himself from his boxers. Shaft is flushed and translucent, pearly beads of precum leaked from the head. He spit on his hand and pumped his cock a few times as you took off your cami.
Spencer leans over your, slapping your clit with his tip whilst looking into your eyes. “Is this what you wanted, pretty? For me to stretch your out and fuck you into the materess?”
You whimpered and nodded, desperate for him to enter you.
“Say it.”
“I need you to fuck me.” you say, shakily.
“No, angel, say exactly what I said.”
You flush, this is so embarrassing. “I want you to stretch me out and for your to fuck me into the matress.” You say, lowly.
He pushes into you slowly as he splits you in half on his cock,
“Good.” He groans. He pulls all the way out of you and then pushes in so far the his tip kisses your cervix, your cry out in pleasure. He starts to fuck you slowly, both hands pressed into the mattress but holding yours at each sides of your head.
“Is that better, sweet girl?” he coos as you clench around him.
“Yes” You sputter, your mind only focused on how dizzyingly good his cock feels driving into you. His lips slam into yours, the lewd sound of your pussy squelching around his cock only making you wetter. You can’t even kiss him properly because you’re so busy whimpering.
“Y/n—” he moans “Legs. Give me.” He says, as you spread them further apart and position them within his grasp. He swiftly pushes your thighs to your chest, folding you in half and positioning you into the perfect mating press. You moan as his cock drives even deeper inside of you as you tighten around him. It’s like your walls are moulding to the shape of him.
“So deep,” You whine. The head of his cock pounds into that spongey part inside you that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head and your legs shake uncontrollably. You gasp his name before you clench around him.
“I know baby,” he kisses you on the lips with slow procession “Feels really good, yeah?”
“Mhm,” you hiccup as you wrap your legs around his waist. His eyes narrow at you
“Tell me what you want honey.”
“Want you to fill me up. Please Spence? Just once—it’ll feel ‘s good.” You babble. He groans.
“You want me to breed you, baby?” he can barely get the words out, moaning at the thought. “Oh fuck d’you wan’ me to make you a mommy? I’d take such good care of us. Suuuuch good care of you.” He groans, voice crackling.
His dick plunges in and out of you at a relentless place.
Your jaw drops and your brows furrow, feeling a know in your stomach that you’ve only felt once or twice before. Its hot and tense in the pit of your stomach.
“You okay, baby?” Spencer asks, grabbing your face by the cheeks with one hand to force you to look at him.
“Mhm,” you inhale sharply, “‘m so close–Oh’pence–” you’re legs tremor before your back is arched off the bed and you’re writhing in ecstasy as Spencer fucks you through your orgasm. You can’t stop it when it comes, gushes of your essence from your cunt paints both of your thighs and completely soaks his maroon sheets. A pale, creamy ring collecting at the base of his cock.
You feel weightless and blurry afterwards. “God I’m close” he whimpers. “Gonna—mm—fill you up so good just like I promised…I’m so lucky I got such a pretty slut— that begs me to…to…this is so risky.”
“Iloveyou s’much” You slurred, delirious from overstimulation. “I’d let you do anything you wanted to me.” Spencer kisses you sloppily before grabbing your face in one hand and turning it away from him to grant him access to your neck. He flattens his tongue against your hot, flushed skin, and licks a stripe from the middle of your neck to your temple.
It's so wet and warm. The feeling of his tongue against your neck. Your face. He hums contently, I guess you must’ve tasted good. He then cradles the back of your head in his hand, tilting you up so your can watch him fuck you and look at the sticky mess you’ve made all over his thighs. All over his bed. He’s only looking at you, gaze half lidded and chest heaving. When he removes his hand from the back of your head, your arms find his back.
That look in his eye paired with the sound of his heavy balls against your ass, his ragged breath, and the sweet aroma of his woodsy cologne is just way too much at the same time. Your whines turn into wanton, whorish, moans that definitely penetrate the thin walls of your apartment.
“Goood Girl get loud for me—sound so pretty.” He groaned, his voice getting higher on the last word. “Oh fuck—Let me feel you honey. I’m close.”
Your nails scratch down his back as you practically scream, coming around him again. Spencer whines as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, “Take it” he mumbles into your skin before hot ropes of his come flood your pussy.
Spencers collapses gently onto you, his weight a comforting press. He kisses your forehead, then your lips softly, murmuring, “You okay?”
You nod, slightly clenching around him at the sound of his voice which earns a hiss from him. You suppress a laugh. Literally all he did was speak and you're like putty in his hands again. Maybe you are a pervert.
“What's funny? Hm?” He says breathlessly, without seeing him, you can hear the smile in his voice.
You shake your head “Nothing.”
His hand finds your jaw and presses a kiss into your cheek. “We gotta clean you up.” He brushes a piece of hair glued to your forehead with sweat away from your face.
“Me?” You say “Look at you. I’m practically dripping down your legs.” You laugh.
He kisses you. “I guess there is one solution. We could” kiss “ take a shower–” He said.
“Together?” You rasp, unable to hide the eagerness in your voice.
Spencer laughs. “Yeah, together.”
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