Greta Van Fleet Imagines

animals*-sfk

I haven't been able to get Nickelback out of my head. This also gives me intense flashbacks to- well I can't talk about that. I'll write about that night later.

Warnings: NSFW, explicit sexual content, swearing

Word Count: 1528

Your hands roamed all over his clothes chest. Sam moaned softly into your ear. His hand traveled lower, taking in the wetness through your panties. Your fingers snaked through his hair, tilting him back so you could kiss his neck. The stairs creaked loudly with each step, prompting you to slide off Sam's lap and onto the floor, pretending to be engrossed in the film playing on the screen. The open floor plan in the upstairs attic made it difficult to find a way alone. Thankfully, the stairs were creaky enough to alarm anyone of a guest.

"Y/N, your father is on the phone," Karen said, handing you the handheld landline.

You sighed, knowing you were in for it. Curfew was still when the streetlights came on, which was so unfair for a girl of eighteen. Your father on the other end of the line sounded upset, telling you how ridiculously difficult it was to get ahold of you and that you had to come home. It was his fault that you didn't have a cell phone yet. Frankenmuth was a fairly good-sized city, and you were always with Sam, who had a cell phone.

"Okay," you sighed, knowing an argument would be useless. If anything, he would drive over and knock on the door to pick you up. You packed your bag, glancing at Sam. "Be at my house at 9. Don't knock, just wait around the corner for ten minutes."

He gave you a thumbs up, raising himself to walk you out. With a peck on the cheek, you began to walk home, unsatisfied with the night. Dinner was over by the time you made it to the foyer. You kicked your shoes off, greeting your father. He was angry, upset with your tardiness and accidental skipping of dinner.

"You're on dishes tonight," your dad said, walking past you and to his room.

Your mother was on the couch, watching one of the many sitcoms with a strong female lead, a dopey husband who makes simple mistakes far too often, a pyromaniac of a son, and a prudish daughter. "Hey mom," you greeted.

She hummed a hello. "Dinner is in the microwave."

You picked at the plate, deciding to pack it for tomorrow's lunch. There weren't many dishes, just the pots and pans from dinner and the two plates.

"Can I go back to Sam's?" You asked.

Your mom looked at you. "Didn't you just get back from there?"

"Yeah, but we have to finish the movie before class tomorrow. We were supposed to watch it last week, but we went bowling with his brothers instead."

She tsked, obviously unhappy with the request. "I guess."

You smiled, knowing you'd be able to meet Sam. Keeping it a secret from your dad would be difficult. He wasn't a fan of Sam. After catching you kissing him shamelessly on a park bench, he only frowned when you mentioned Sam. With ten minutes until nine, you bid your father goodnight and your mother a goodbye. Hopefully he wouldn't figure it out. Without another word, you walked down the street, crossing through front yards to avoid the streetlamps. The Kiszka car was waiting around the corner, motor running but the headlights were off. You tapped on the glass, alerting Sam of your presence as to not freak him out when you opened the door.

"Where to?" He asked, pulling away slowly. He drove a few meters before turning the headlights on.

"Wherever you want," you sighed. Your left hand went straight to his lap. Like the typical teenage boy, he shuffled, blushing momentarily. The lump in his jeans grew.