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ssprayberrythings · 2 months

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it'll be ok | LN4

lando norris x female!reader

warnings: unexpected pregnancy, talk of throwing up/being nauseous, suggestive actions implied if you get what i’m saying, early on pregnancy symptoms, mention of alcohol and being drunk (not the reader!!), lando being a simp for his girlfriend in every aspect of his life.

note: i know how pregnancy works and i’m not saying that reader got pregnant on this trip, her and lando are just h**ny 😭 (increased sex drive is a symptom of pregnancy though so..…)

double note: i’m not sure how lily (oscar’s lily) is as a person but she seems like a sweetheart so i went off those vibes and i referred to alexandra by her full name cause if i said alex, someone might think alex albon lol

okay thats it. enjoy 😉

word count: a little over 5k

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You and Lando had been dating now for close to 2 years. You were happy with the life you were making with him and he was happy to have you by his side through his success.

Everything was going great, at least it was up until 5 minutes ago. Now here you were sitting in the bathroom to the villa you had rented out for a vacation with friends, holding a pregnancy test not sure what to do with the fact that there were two lines looking back at you.

48 Hours Before Finding Out

“Omg this is so much more prettier than the pictures” you said as you, Lando and some of your closest friends which included some of the other drivers and their girlfriends, walked into the villa

“This is gonna be great” Lando exclaimed excitedly while wrapping an arm around your waist “Alright everyone get their rooms sorted and when you’re done, meet down by the beach” he told everyone, earning a round of “okays” and “sounds goods”.

You and Lando made your way to the master suite on the second floor, seeing as you had been the ones to suggest the vacation and rent the villa, it was only fair you got the biggest room.

“Lan I don’t know which bathing suit to wear” you asked as you stared at the bathing suits you had brought.

“Doesn’t matter to me, either way it’ll end up on the floor later” he whispered in your ear as he came up behind you

You blushed at his flirty remark “You’re naughty” you joked with him

“Only for you” he reiterated as he put his hands on your hips and started kissing your neck

“Lan if we start doing that, we’re never gonna leave” you tried being serious even though the shudder in your voice gave you away, telling Lando he was succeeding in distracting you.

This happened quite frequently. Lando knew you so well and he made you feel things, none of your previous boyfriends had ever made you feel.

He continued kissing your neck, knowing exactly where to put his lips. You felt yourself giving in with the way he was kissing you and how his hands were slowly moving down from your hips, you knew you wouldn’t be making it to the beach anytime soon.

You and Lando eventually left your room, joining your friends on the beach.

“Where the hell were you two” Max asked as he sat on a beach chair with everyone else doing their own thing

“Y/N needed help picking a bathing suit” Lando responded smirking, knowing Max wouldn’t believe him but also knew he wouldn’t push for the truth, he was smart enough to put two and two together.

“Babe I’m gonna go in the water, care to join?” Lando asked turning to you as your hands were interlocked

“No I’m okay for now, I’m gonna try and tan a bit then I’ll come join you” you told him, he smiled at your answer and then gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and started making his way towards the water to join the friends of yours that were currently playing water volleyball.

You spent the rest of your day in between tanning with the girls and playing in the water with Lando. Once everyone was done with the sun, you all made your way back to the house where you went to your perspective rooms to rest a little before you went out for dinner.

You felt extra tired which on any other day you might be more concerned about but you had been travelling between time zones and then spent a significant amount of time in the sun, so in your head it made sense to be this tired.

Once you had changed from your bathing suit into some clean undies and a oversized T-shirt, you crashed on yours and Lando’s bed where he was already sitting scrolling on his phone

“Lan im gonna take a quick nap, wake me up in like an hour so I can start getting ready” you told him as you curled into a ball nuzzling your face into the pillows

“Sure thing sweets” he said leaning down to kiss your head before going back to his phone, keeping one hand free to play with your hair knowing that always helped put you to sleep.

Lando stayed true to his word and gently woke you up about an hour into your nap, not wanting to, seeing as you looked so peaceful but knowing you’d be upset if he let you sleep longer than you wanted.

“Babe” he said gently stroking his hand over your cheek

“Hmm” you mumbled still half asleep

“You wanted me to wake you so you could start to get ready” he told you smiling at how cute you looked

“Why are you a good boyfriend and actually listen to what I say” you grumbled

He chuckled “C’mon we can take a shower together, that’ll wake you up” he suggested knowing you’d get what he was implying

You opened one eye looking at him to see if he was joking but knew he wasn’t when you saw the look in his eyes, this got you to open both eyes and slowly stretch, waking up fully in the process

“Alright pretty boy let’s go” you said as you got off the bed causing a laugh to leave Lando as he got off the bed, following you into the bathroom.

Once everyone including you and Lando were ready, you decided to visit a cute Italian restaurant nearby. Everyone in the group all loved Italian so it worked out perfectly.

While you were walking to the restaurant, you felt a slight squeeze in your stomach but chalked it up to that all you had to eat today was some fruit and a small salad.

Lately your appetite hadn’t been what it normally was, you pushed this thought aside though wanting to enjoy your vacation and deciding you’d worry about it once you got back home.

After some walking you reached the restaurant, Charles taking point and speaking to the hostess in Italian to get a table. They brought you to the part of the restaurant that was more private and made sure there were enough seats for everyone.

The host got you all menus and water, letting you know your server would be there momentarily.

You politely smiled at her and offered her thanks in Italian, you may have loved everything Italian but your knowledge of the language didn’t go past basic phrases and words.

You sat next to Lando and Lily, Oscars girlfriend. The two of you had gotten close with your boyfriends being teammates. You felt that squeeze in your stomach again, this time more intense so you casually reached for your water and hoped it would help.

Once you had drank enough water to feel better, you went back to look at your menu

“Baby are you okay? You just practically chugged your water” Lando asked quietly turning to you

You nodded “Yeah, I'm good, I just didn’t realize how thirsty I was” you lied offering him a smile, he seemed to believe you and went back to the menu, Lily however offered you a strange look, having overheard your words and not fully believing you but deciding not to push.

You could still feel that slight squeeze in your stomach and was apprehensive to order a large meal so you went for a simple soup, figuring it was the safest option.

When everyone’s food arrived, you caught a whiff of the food around you and suddenly that squeeze in your stomach was becoming too much to handle. You didn’t want to bring attention to yourself but if you didn’t go to the washroom now, you weren’t sure what would happen so you turned to Lily.

“Lils I need your help” you whispered to the girl who had just taken a bite of her food

“Is everything okay? You look pale” she asked concerned

“I’m gonna throw up and desperately need to get away from the table” you explained trying to stuff the nausea down until you were somewhere else

“Say no more” the girl said then turned to Oscar letting him know she was using the washroom, he smiled and moved out of the booth, luckily he was on the end

“Y/N will you come with?” She asked, acting like the washroom was her idea and just wanted a friend to accompany her

Your name sparked Lando’s interest and turned to face you

“Babe I’ll be back im just gonna go to the washroom with Lily” you told him quickly before getting out of the booth, offering Oscar a small smile to say sorry for interrupting his meal

Then you and Lily made your way to the washroom, as much as you would’ve preferred to run there, you didn’t want to seem weird so you casually bit your lip and hoped you could get there in time.

“Girls are so strange in always wanting someone with them to go to the washroom” Lando said to Oscar eating his food

Oscar just shrugged “I’m used to it at this point” he replied to his friend and teammate before both drivers went back to their previous conversation with the others around them.

Meanwhile in the washroom, you were in a stall on your knees with your head over the toilet. Luckily Lily was there to hold back your hair and rub your back.

“Are you okay? Did you eat something you shouldn’t have?” She asked after you were done and had stood up, using some tissues to wipe your mouth

“I didn’t have anything weird to eat, just some fruit and a small salad” you told her as you fixed your hair and did your best to get the taste of vomit out of your mouth. Remembering you had gum in your purse and silently saying a prayer to your past self for putting it there.

“That’s strange” she said even though you could sense there was more the girl wanted to say but held back

“I don’t know how I'm gonna get through dinner. The smell of everything is what triggered this” you told her turning to her

“Maybe just tell Lando you aren’t feeling the greatest and are gonna walk back to the Villa” she suggested

“He wont let me go alone, he’ll want to join me and I don’t want to take him away from everyone” you explained

“I’ll go back with you. I’ll just tell Oscar to bring my food home in a to go box” she offered

“Are you sure Lils?” You asked the girl, feeling bad

“That’s what friends are for” she smiled

“Okay, let’s go then” you told her

When you made your way back to the table, Lando looked at you, you could see there was some concern behind his eyes probably because of how long you had been in the washroom

You slid in the booth to tell him you and Lily were gonna head back

“I’m just not feeling super great and don’t want to take you away from everyone so Lily’s gonna walk back with me” you explained to him

“Are you okay? What are you feeling? I’ll walk back with you, I don’t mind” he told you the concern only worsening

“Babe I'm fine, really, I'm sure a good nights rest is all I need and then tomorrow I’ll be good” you reassured him, offering him a small smile

“Okay but text me if you need anything or want me to come back” he told you which you nodded and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before getting out of the booth and walking to the exit with Lily.

“Where’s Lily and Y/N going?” Charles asked

“Y/N’s not feeling the great so they’re going back to the villa” Lando answered him

Charles nodded then went back to talking to his girlfriend, Alexandra.

Lando shared a look with Oscar as both of their girlfriends had left them

“Did Lily say anything?” Lando asked Oscar as they moved closer now that there was some space between them

“No, just that she was going back with Y/N” he told him. He could see Lando was worried “I’m sure she’ll be fine and Lily will text if anything happens” Oscar did his best to reassure the Brit. Lando just nodded and silently went back to his food.

24 Hours Before Finding Out

The next day, you had woken up and luckily you didn’t feel any feelings of nausea, hopefully that was an indicator that today was going to be different from yesterday and you could enjoy your trip.

You got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, you had a strange craving for orange juice which wasn’t normally your go to breakfast drink but you weren’t mad about it, seeing as the orange juice in the fridge was freshly squeezed.

You smiled when you poured yourself a tall glass and went to sit on the patio furniture outside enjoying the beautiful view.

You pulled your phone out, scrolling through TikTok. You tried to avoid TikTok because most of the time you’d see videos of your boyfriend or any sort of f1 content but today you gave it a chance.

So far it was going great until you saw a video of this creator explaining their battle with cancer and how they were finally in remission. You felt the tears gathering in your eyes but figured it was just your hormones and you being a sensitive person.

Then you moved from TikTok to Instagram and saw a post about puppy adoptions and suddenly you couldn’t hold the tears back and that’s how Lando found you, crying over your phone

“Babe what’s wrong?” He asked instantly pulling the chair next to you, rubbing your back

“These puppies, they’re all up for adoption” you told him, showing him the rescue centre’s instagram highlighting all the dogs they had up for adoption.

Lando found you the cutest for crying over dogs “Why are you crying though?” he asked still rubbing your back

You shrugged, wiping your eyes with the back of your sleeve “I don’t know, they just all look so cute and I want them to find their forever homes” you tried to explain why you were crying, even if you didn’t fully understand why.

“You’re adorable” he smiled at you “How about when we get back, we can try and organize an adoption event with the centre, I’m sure the attention from an f1 driver should help” he suggested.

He would do anything to see you smile even if that meant having to talk with his PR manager about organizing a puppy adoption event sponsored by McLaren.

The idea brought a smile to your face and you sniffled “Thats really sweet of you Lan” you told him

“We’ll get all those dogs adopted” you leaned over giving your boyfriend a hug. The tears had subsided which Lando was grateful for, he hated seeing you cry.

He hugged you back, kissing the top of your head “Anything for you sweets” he reassured you.

After your moment, you and Lando joined the rest of your friends inside. You all enjoyed a nice breakfast together, then once the dishes were dealt with, you all went your own ways, everyone wanting to do something different.

You and Lando planned to go take some pictures around the area. That was one of the things that drew you two to each other, both having a passion for photography.

On your first date, you spent so much time sharing pictures and the stories that went with them so when you started dating, it became something you did together, whenever you could.

You were walking up to your room when Kika called your name. You turned looking in the direction of where your name had come, seeing Kika sticking her head out of her and Pierre’s room.

“Whats up? Is everything okay?” you asked as you approached their room.

“Yeah, I just was wondering if you had a tampon or a pad, I got my period and just realized I didn’t bring anything” she chuckled

“Oh yeah, I have tampons in my room. I’ll bring you a few to get you through until you can go to a local store” you told the girl, she smiled at you “Thank you, youre an angel”

You just smiled and then turned walking to your room, going straight to the washroom, to look through your toiletries bag. As you looked at the mini travel sized bag you brought filled with tampons, it hit you, you had never gotten your period.

You were supposed to get it right before the trip and the last few days of your period should’ve been the first couple days you were away but as you got ready for vacation, you still hadn’t gotten it which was why you brought a weeks worth figuring you’d end up getting it on the trip but you still hadn’t gotten it and that sparked a fear within you.

You quickly grabbed a few for Kika and closed the bag. As you turned to leave the washroom, you bumped into Lando “Oh sorry babe” you told him, you must’ve seemed frazzled judging by the expression Lando offered you

“Are you okay?” he asked “Oh yeah, just need to give something to Kika” you told him hiding the tampons behind your back.

Obviously Lando knew what a period was, having a mother, 2 sisters and a girlfriend, he was used to it and had they been for you, you wouldn’t have cared but you didn’t want to make Kika uncomfortable so you with held those details from him.

“Oh okay..well I’m ready to go whenever you want to go take some photos” he told you, offering you his typical Lando smile. You smiled, leaning up to kiss his lips “I can be ready in a few minutes” you told him once you pulled away.

Then moved around him, being sure he couldn’t see what was behind your back before leaving the room, walking to Kika’s. You knocked on the door, she answered almost immediately “You’re my lifesaver. I owe you” she told you once you handed her the tampons.

“Really glad you said that, I need you to get me something from the store whenever you go” you told her biting your bottom lip, something you did when you were nervous

“What’s up?” she asked

“Can you get me a couple pregnancy tests” you whispered, not wanting anyone to hear. Kika’s eyes grew in size “Woah, really?” she confirmed, you just nodded, not saying anything.

“Yeah of course. Want me to leave them in your suitcase while you’re out?” she offered

“That’d be great. Thank you” you told her

“Do you really think you’re” she started before gesturing to your stomach instead of saying the word

“Honestly I’m not too sure, it didn’t cross my mind until moments ago when I realized I missed my period” you explained, she nodded along

“Well you aren’t alone regardless of the results. We’re all here for you” she reassured you, you smiled at her words.

“Thanks Kika, I appreciate that” you told her “Anyways I should go and get ready, Lan and I are going to take some photos around the area, I’ll see you later” you told her offering her a goodbye before walking back to yours and Lando’s room.

You quickly changed into something clean, washed your face, tied your hair into a high ponytail and then slipped on your converse to go meet Lando downstairs.

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fan2: they’re so cute

fan3: y/n giving us the lando content

fan4: the y/nlando crumbs

landonorris: my favourite adventure partner 🧡

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francisca.cgomez: my faves ☺️

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You and Lando ended up having an awesome time. You walked around and took plenty of photos. Yours were of the area, some of the locals, some of Lando, a good variety meanwhile Lando’s were mostly of you.

He called you his muse the first time you asked him why he took so many pictures of you but by now you had grown used to it and didn’t question it.

In the midst of walking around, you had grabbed a quick bite to eat at a cute cafe. You went with a fruit parfait and water, figuring it was the safest option not wanting to risk being sick.

After being out for a couple hours, you eventually made your way back to the villa. When you got back, you got a text from Kika after passing her in the kitchen.

Kika: ‘They’re in your suitcase, under a pile of bathing suits’

You quickly texted her back

Y/N: ‘Thank you. Now I owe you’

Kika: ‘If you end up having a girl, name her Francisca 😌’

You laughed, not answering her but rather hearting the message then going to find the tests.

When you walked into your room, you heard Lando in the washroom, so you checked your suitcase to double check where they were and then once you had confirmation, covered them back up.

You had plans with everyone to go out tonight so you wouldn’t be able to test until tomorrow. You weren’t sure how you were gonna avoid drinking tonight.

It’s not as if you were a heavy drinker, you just enjoyed doing shots while you were out and you could handle your alcohol well so nights out never phased you.

Tonight however to be cautious incase you were pregnant you had to avoid alcohol.

You sighed, so far this trip you had spent more time stressed out then relaxed and you weren’t sure how much more you could handle before you exploded from the uncertainty.

You heard Lando finishing in the washroom so you quickly grabbed an outfit from your suitcase before shutting it.

“I thought you were gonna join me in the shower” Lando said when he walked out, his curls wet from the water

“Sorry my love, I took too long trying to figure out what to wear” you lied, offering him a soft smile

“It’s okay, I can think of a couple ways you can make it up to me” he winked at you, you blushed.

“Your cheeky” you told him smiling as he laughed at your comment.

You quickly got yourself ready and then you made your way downstairs with Lando to meet everyone else. Once everyone was ready to go, you made your way to the local club.

On the way, Kika linked her arm with yours and walked a bit up from the boys.

“Did you test?” She asked in a low tone, you subtly shook your head

“I need your help tonight avoiding alcohol” you replied keeping your voice low

She nodded “Don’t worry, we’ll get you a mocktail at the bar and you can either sip on it through the evening or keep going back for the same one. Then with shots, we’ll tell the bartender to give you water” she explained still keeping her voice low, you offered her a small smile

“I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here. You and Lily have both been the best” you exclaimed, Kika just smiled and gave you a side hug

“That’s what friends do” she told you.

Once you got to the club, Kika went to get your drinks and made sure to tell the bartender the plan. The bartender was a female and without even having to explain why, somehow she understood and told Kika to always give you the shot with a rounder base.

So far everything had been going smoothly and once people became more intoxicated, it was easier to let loose and not keep up the show as much as you had been.

Surprisingly you were having a great time sober, just getting to dance with everyone and enjoy being with your friends, this was exactly what you needed and it took your mind off what you had to do tomorrow.

Currently you were dancing with Lando, his hands were on your waist and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. It didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would.

“Babyyyyy” he said into your ear due to the loud music

“Yes Lan?” You asked laughing at your boyfriends behaviour

“I love youuu” he told you stretching out the you. You smiled at him

“I know. I love you too” you told him running a hand through his curls, he closed his eyes enjoying the feeling

“Can we go back to our place, I just want to be alone with you” he told you, pulling you closer and nuzzling his face in your neck, breathing in your perfume.

“What about our friends?” You asked him, even though you knew they’d be fine and you wouldn’t mind alone time with Lando

“They’ll be fine” he said as he started kissing your neck, you shuddered a bit at the sensation.

“Don’t start doing that here or we won’t be able to stop” you told him even though you didn’t want him to stop

“I don’t want to stop” he said pulling his lips away to answer you before leaning down and kissing you.

You felt yourself getting weaker in the knees. This was the effect Lando had on you.

“Okay fine, let’s leave then” you said in between breaths, he smiled and then grabbed your hand, intertwining his with yours and carefully made his way to the door.

“Where are you going?” Kika asked as you passed her and Pierre

“Back to the Villa. See you later, stay safe” you told her quickly offering a wave over your shoulder

She chuckled “Children having a child” she muttered under her breath

“What did you just say?” Pierre asked his girlfriend

Kika didn’t think he had heard with the music “Nothing” she quickly said

“No I swear you said” he started but she stopped him before he could finish.

“Pierre just drop it for now. Please” she asked. The look they shared said enough. He nodded and then they went back to dancing.

She hoped he wouldn’t say anything further on the topic, her boyfriend had a tendency to spread gossip even if it wasn’t always intentional but hopefully this time, he’d keep it to himself.

Back at the Villa, you and Lando were having a great time and took advantage of the empty house, getting to be loud as you pleased. If you weren’t already pregnant, there’s a good possibility after tonight, you might’ve been.

Moments Before Finding Out

The next morning, you woke up wrapped in the duvet and Lando. You smiled at how peaceful he looked. Then you remembered what you had to do and suddenly you felt the nerves creep back up on you.

You sighed and carefully got out of bed, being sure not to wake Lando. Thankfully he was a heavy sleeper when he had been drinking.

You crept over to your suitcase, finding the pregnancy tests and taking them to the washroom. You had googled that testing in the morning was the best time so that’s what you were doing.

You locked the door and then opened the first box. Taking the test and sitting on the toilet. You quickly peed on the stick and then placed it back on the counter, on top of a piece of toilet paper. You finished up and then pulled your sleep shorts back up and set the timer on your phone. Sitting on the edge of the toilet.

You closed your eyes trying your best to keep your breathing steady. Everything would be fine. Lando loved you and even if this was unexpected, he wouldn’t leave you, at least you didn’t think he would, he wasn’t like that. You did some more deep breaths until your timer went off and you quickly silenced it not wanting to wake up Lando.

You shakily stood up from the toilet and with your shaking hands, reached for the test and that’s when you saw, the two lines looking up at you, indicating you were pregnant.

After Finding Out

After the first positive, you had to do the other 3 tests to be sure and of course those all came back positive. You put them back in one of the boxes and just stood there in shock.

You were pregnant. You were going to be a mom and Lando was going to be a dad. You wanted to cry but you also knew once you started you wouldn’t be able to stop.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed in the washroom until you heard Lando call your name, you knew you had to tell him now or else you’d drive yourself mad keeping it in.

You opened the door and made your way back to the bed. Seeing Lando sitting up rubbing his eyes, he must’ve just woken up.

“Lan, I need to tell you something” you told him biting your lip due to your nerves. He looked confused

“Is everything okay? Did something happen?” He asked as you made your way to sit next to him. You sat with your feet tucked under you

You reached for his hand “Nothing happened” you reassured him then took a deep breath before continuing

“I’m pregnant” you told him trying to keep your voice steady and calm not wanting to show your nerves, already knowing Lando would have plenty of his own.

“Sorry but I think I heard you incorrectly; did you say pregnant?” He asked rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

You nodded your head, not sure what was going through his mind at the moment. You sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime, the longer the more nervous you got.

Lan was never speechless and this scared you “Lan please say something” you said, feeling yourself wanting to cry even more now

He must’ve sensed you were on the verge of tears “Baby I'm sorry, come here” he said opening his arms which you gladly accepted and buried your head in his chest, the tears finally leaving.

“It’s unexpected but it’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out together” he said rubbing your back “I love you and there’s no one else I’d want to have children with, I just thought it’d be a bit further down the road but this is okay. Baby’s are a good thing regardless of when they come” he told you.

You pulled away, wiping your eyes “So you aren’t gonna leave?” You asked as you hiccuped

“Not a chance. You’re stuck with me for life now” he told you smiling. You returned the smile finally feeling better.

You and Lando spent the rest of the morning cuddled up, talking about your baby, what you thought they’d look like, how they’d act, if they were a boy or a girl.

At some point you must’ve started to drift off cause you found yourself cuddled up next to Lando as he played with your hair, subconsciously your hand found its place on your stomach and Lando kissed your head.

He loved you and would do anything for you and now that meant your baby as well. The two of you were his world and he planned on spending the rest of his life making sure you both knew how much he loved you both.

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AH! I hope you all enjoyed this <3 I had such a fun time writing it and I'm proud of how it turned out! Im always open to feedback so please share your thoughts !

#ssprayberrythings talks #ssprayberrythings x formula one #lando norris #lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 smau #x reader #f1 imagine #ln4 #lando norris smau #lando x reader #ln4 x reader #imagines #ln4 fluff

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sunsburns · 2 months

Note

Plssss write something wehere reader and virgin Luke fuck

[nsfw 17+]

no need to tell me twice! this is sooo obviously loser!luke coded and i'm glad he's back in my corner. and let's be honest, he wouldn't have a damn clue where to put his hands the entire time...

luke just wants to touch you, all of you. and it makes you smile when you feel his hands trail from your cheeks, your neck, down your shoulders, and once he felt a little braver, he'd grasp at your chest, brows furrowed, and lips parted.

your skin is warm, and the weight of his hands on you has you mewling. you drop your head and look down at him. luke can barely keep his eyes open, but when you bring your hand to his chin, tilting his head up, he tries to look at you.

luke's eyes are glossy, clouded by a lustful haze. his curls stick to his forehead, a thin coat of sweat against his skin while soft, low groans spill from his lips.

you let out a breathless laugh, running your finger through his hair as you roll your hips. "f-fuck..."

he's panting, his hands running from your chest to your waist, then your hips, and shyly creeping near your ass, but not quite there. you kiss his teeth and lick into his mouth, grinning when he tries to follow your lips when you back away the slightest bit.

"c'mon, luke..." you huff, pressing your forehead against his. "i've been doin' all the work, care to help a girl out?"

he's bottomed out, buried inside you as you rock your hips against his. you hold onto his shoulders for support, legs aching, but the pretty sounds that slip from his lips make it all worth it.

it's been ungraceful and clumsy, wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's mouth. you wished it could've been a little more coordinated, especially after you spent a couple of days looking for a spot you knew no one else would find you and luke in. a clearing far enough from the camp, but close enough where you could still see the lake, where the grass was softer, and none of the trees had any stranded arrows or carvings from the blade of a sword or a knife.

the sun beat down on the two of you, hot and golden, tanning your skin while luke can barely look at you without becoming flustered.

"what..." he's staring at your lips, "what do i do? what do you want me to do?"

he's trying his best, you'll give him that. it makes you smile against his mouth nonetheless.

"put your hands here," you guide his palms back to your hips, and you give them a squeeze, "and hold tight. i want you to move your hips, baby."

luke nods, a bright red hue on his cheeks when you kiss him again. his hips roll into yours, and a drawled curse falls from his open mouth. luke pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour it; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out.

you raise your hips the next time he pulls out, meeting in the middle when he fills you back up. his hips slot against yours once more before he pulls away from you so he can suck in a breath and-

"shit. you're so- fuck." he shudders, eyes squeezed shut.

you can hardly breathe, the sun is too hot, and the air is too humid, but luke feels so good, even if each one of his thrusts was so uncoordinated you had to try to roll your hips against him again so he could find a rhythm. it was half-grinding, half-fucking, and a delicious drag of the curve of his cock against your walls. yeah, you could do this forever.

"feels so good, luke." you moan, a little louder than you hoped when luke finally built the courage to grab your ass. "you feel so good. don't stop."

"don't wanna," he can barely get the words out. he's trying to kiss your neck but misses, and his teeth knock against your collarbone, the beads of your camp necklace hitting his nose. his jaw clenches tightly, "fuuuck."

one of his hands slides up the span of your back until it reaches the back of your neck, fingers ghosting below your hairline. you get a good look at him, he's a little bolder now, eyes wider, but brows still furrowed. luke licks his lips and lets them fall into a soft pout, a broken moan escaping him once he realizes you're staring.

"gonna cum, luke?"

he's nodding, his curly hair falling over his eyes as his hips buck at the sound of your voice. "yeah... yeah, yes."

you almost feel bad when you push him by the chest until his back falls onto the blanket. he stares at you, surprised, maybe, face unreadable as you lean down over him and whisper, "you're gonna have to work a little harder for it."

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke’s cabin

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fredwkong · 4 months

Text

Taking a Trip

Arne was more than excited to visit Vancouver for the first time. Everyone said that he could have easily seen beautiful mountains on a trip to Switzerland, but Arne wanted something a little bit extra inspiring on a continent he had never seen before. His life at home had become a little monotonous at his corporate job, and the dating pool was as unpromising as ever for a shy, reclusive man in his mid-20s.

With his frugal nature, Arne balked at the hotel prices in the city, and quickly found himself looking at short-term rental sites. The prices were, if possible, even worse. Finally, he followed a link to a retro-looking gay room-sharing website and saw an ad that read: “Shared room, accessible, perfect for tourists.” The price was well within Arne’s range, and it was within walking distance of transit. He booked it without a second thought.

It was only as the taxi drove away after dropping Arne and his suitcase on the curb that he had second thoughts. He followed the instructions the owner, Julian, had sent him and went around the small house to the back, where there was an external door to the basement. All around the door were skateboards, leaning on the concrete foundation, each with a unique design painted on its underside. As he knocked, Arne felt a tremor up his spine, like an anticipation of danger.

Before he could react in any way, he heard heavy feet and voices behind the door. With a clunk of the latch, the door swung open to reveal a young man with dark, curly hair and a thin moustache with no shirt on his tanned, muscular body. “What’s up, bro? You must be Arne,” he said in a deep, slow voice, holding out a big hand that engulfed Arne’s, even though they were the same size. “I’m Julian, your host.”

Arne opened his mouth to reply, but he lost his train of thought as an eye-watering stench poured off Julian’s bare, hairy muscles. He almost seemed to steam in the cold air. The smell was a mix of stale sweat, cooking spices, musky body odour, and, over all of it, the stench of weed.

After a moment, as Arne struggled to control the cough that threatened to burst out of him, Julian seemed to realise he was bare from the hips up. “Oh, sorry, bro,” he said, lazily backing away into the basement apartment. “I was, uh, busy.” He chuckled and moved away, grabbing a stained green shirt from an equally stained couch.

Reluctantly, Arne followed Julian through the doorway, and immediately realised that it was not only Julian who stank. The smell permeated the whole space, making Arne lightheaded. He wished that he had thought to bring air freshener in his luggage.

The basement suite was small, with low ceilings. Behind the couch was a counter to delineate the tiled kitchen, while in front of the couch was a low, beat-up table with a bong and other smoking paraphernalia scattered across it. To the side, a couple of doors led to what Arne hoped were the bedrooms and bathroom.

One door banged open, and another guy stumbled out into the living room. With a beanie over his dishevelled hair and his shirt on inside out, it was clear that he had dressed hurriedly. He looked over Arne with bloodshot eyes, his movements clumsy as he pulled on a thin jacket. “Hey man,” he grunted. As the man waved, another scent washed over Arne. This time, the skunk-smell was tempered with dried cum and a tangy, earthy flavour that hit the back of his throat.

“We lost track of time. Omar was just leaving.” At Julian’s gesture, Omar brushed past Arne and out the door. Arne turned to see him grab one of the skateboards leaning against the concrete stairs before the door shut behind him.

Arne was still shaking his head in an attempt to clear out Omar’s stench when Julian grabbed his bag. “In here, dude.”

Julian led Arne back through the door Omar had burst through into a room with two twin beds, exactly as small as Arne had feared. “Obvi, I won’t have guys over while you’re here, bro,” Julian said, handing Arne a spare key. “But if you like, we can always push the beds together for extra sleeping space.” He raised a lascivious eyebrow at Arne.

Blushing furiously, Arne made several aborted gestures. “Uh, no, no, no thank you,” he muttered, his accent thickening.

“Your loss, bro.” Julian raised both his arms to show his hairy armpits, posing as his musk assaulted Arne’s nostrils. “Just tell me if you change your mind, right? If you need me, I’ll prob-ly either be here smoking and painting, or over at the skate park, smoking and skating.”

Chuckling dumbly, Julian left the room. Moments later, while he sat on his bed and trying to work up the courage to leave, Arne’s nose was tickled by a waft of thick, numbing pot smoke.

It was just a few days, Arne reasoned. He’d be out all day anyway. He probably wouldn’t even see Julian that much, even if they did sleep in the same room. Plus, with a quick check of his bank balance, Arne knew that any alternative sleeping arrangements would be utterly impossible.

Arne forced himself to stay out late that night, exploring Davie Street, but his jet-lagged brain forced him back to the basement suite by midnight. Disheartened at the sight of a light on in the tiny ground-level window, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Julian was painting a skateboard in the living room, a half-smoked blunt in one hand. Not even the acrid smell of the paints and lacquer could overpower the stench of weed and musk in the tiny space. “Evenin’, bro,” Julian slurred as Arne blinked his eyes and tried to adjust to the thick, musky atmosphere. “Hey, come sit with me.”

“I have to go to sleep,” Arne protested, even as he walked to the spare seat on the couch and lowered himself into it. He remembered that he had resolved earlier not to touch the couch, since it was covered in who knew what kind of stains, but it was already done.

“No worries, this’ll help you sleep, bro,” Julian said, waving away Arne’s excuse with his blunt and then taking a deep pull off of it. He blew a stream of smoke into Arne’s face.

Arne spluttered. “Wh-what the hell!” He’d smoked a few times, but he was hardly a stoner. He could already feel a contact high working its way through his system, loosening his muscles and overwhelming him with sleepiness. For some reason, it also left his body feeling strangely tight.

“What design should I put on this board?” As he spoke, Julian leaned back on the couch and laid his arm across the back. Through the haze in his mind, Arne realised Julian was shirtless again, with musky sweat dripping down his sides from the bushes in his armpits.

Julian was still talking, something about dragons and complementary colours, and Arne just nodded along, too fixated on Julian’s body to care. He had never liked smelly guys, but something about Julian had Arne’s cock flooding his boxers with precum.

As Julian took another hit off his blunt, Arne realised that he could smell the salty tang of his precum in the air. Looking down, he could see a slick, spreading stain on his jeans. How long had he been sitting here? He thought that he should be embarrassed, but working up shame seemed like so much effort. He was so relaxed, sitting here on the couch, breathing in Julian’s sexy musk and clouds of pot smoke.

The rest of the night was a blur. Arne was so tired. He vaguely remembered Julian’s face looming over his, dripping sweat into Arne’s mouth. At some point, Arne thought he must have taken his shirt off because he got so warm and sweaty sitting on the couch. Finally, they had moved to the bedroom, where Julian had kept talking while Arne tried to calm his dripping cock enough to fall asleep.

Arne woke up slowly the next morning, cocooned in the scent of musk and weed. He started to roll over, but realised suddenly that there was a pair of sweaty arms around his chest. One of Julian’s fingers brushed across Arne’s bare nipple, and he moaned uncontrollably as a spark of pleasure shot to his slick, precum-smelling crotch.

His face burning with embarrassment, Arne carefully extricated himself from Julian’s bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He wondered why his body felt strange and top-heavy until he switched on the light. In the mirror, he saw a pair of massive pecs on top of his slender torso, the big nipples erect and pink.

Despite his horror, Arne still found himself feeling oddly horny. Looking further down, he saw an unfamiliar, half-hard cock between his bare legs—he had slept naked!—still leaking thick, clear precum that gathered in big drops before falling to the floor.

There was something seriously wrong with this apartment, and with Julian. Arne struggled to think, but the scent of his precum was quickly filling the little bathroom, making his head foggy. He had to…He had to…He had to touch his fat man tits.

Arne watched in the mirror as he popped his sweaty pecs, and then grabbed them with one hand. Not only were they real, they bounced hypnotically as he kneaded at the muscle. A finger brushed over his pert nipple, and Arne moaned again. His voice sounded strange. A little bit too deep, and slower than he was used to.

Would he feel even better if he pinched his nipple? As Arne went to grab his opposite nip, he struggled to remember what he had been thinking about. It had been something way more important than his bouncing pecs…

The thoughts dissolved as Arne started to tug on his sensitive nipple. He moaned loudly, his legs buckling as jolts of pleasure engulfed his body. The trickle of precum from his cock grew into a continuous stream as he knelt on the bathroom floor, mindlessly tugging on his pecs.

Arne barely noticed the bathroom door open until a pair of strong arms grabbed him under his shoulders and started to haul him to his feet. “No cumming yet, bro,” said Julian’s relaxed drawl next to his ear. “You’re not nearly done yet.”

By the time Julian handed Arne a plate of poptarts, Arne’s horniness had mostly faded back to a low hum, which spiked at the scent of Julian’s unwashed armpits. Arne wondered if he should feel embarrassed to be sat, naked, on Julian’s couch, his insistent cock still slowly leaking tangy precum onto the seat.

“Yesterday was a lot for you, huh bro?” Julian said through a mouthful of poptart. “I bet you just wanna stay here and hang out with me all day.”

Arne frowned. He was supposed to go to the suspension bridge today…No, that sounded like a lot of work. He’d much rather hang out with Julian. He had no idea why he’d thought Julian was gross or uncool. His smell was utterly intoxicating.

“What were you planning to do today?” Arne asked, after he’d eaten a few bites.

Julian shrugged, shedding runnels of sweat from his pits. “I was gonna go to the skate park and hang with some bros, but you need me more, bro.”

“What do you mean?” Arne was independent! He didn’t need Julian around! But it did feel nice to have someone hot and manly like Julian looking out for him, he realised.

“You can’t be left alone right now, bro.” Julian had finished his breakfast, and started to set up the bong on the coffee table. “So we’re gonna hang out, I’m gonna smoke, and then you’re gonna help me with some boards.”

Before long, Arne was floating comfortably, a little stoned from how much smoke billowed out of Julian’s sexy mouth. Julian got to work painting a skateboard, but after a few minutes he turned to look at Arne, a strange smile on his face.

“Come over and help me, bro.”

When Arne slid down to the floor next to Julian, his host raised one tanned, muscular arm. “I’m so sweaty, bro,” Julian said. Arne agreed, watching a rivulet of sweat emerge from the dark hair in Julian’s armpit, adding to the heady musk in the room. “If you could just, like, lick it up for me, I’ll be able to focus so much better.”

Arne frowned. That didn’t seem like it would help at all. But before he could protest, he felt a strong hand on the back of his head, and Julian was pushing him into his musky armpit.

The smell overpowered any of his protests. Julian’s musk was baked into his skin, and taking it straight from the source was far more intense than smelling him at range. The smell of sweat filled Arne’s mind, and he started to lick and suck at Julian’s armpit hair without realising it. The rank taste filled his mouth and trickled down his throat, and Arne felt his leaky cock start to flow again. He couldn’t imagine anything hotter than this. As Julian kept painting, he moaned whenever Arne’s tongue pushed against an especially sensitive spot.

As he laved his tongue over Julian’s tight belly button a while later—time didn’t really matter—Arne started to feel itchy all over his body. As he ran a hand over his arms, he felt the resistance of thick hair. All over his body, Arne felt long hair growing. Before long, his precum didn’t even fall onto the skin of his hairy thighs, it just got lost in the hair.

With his new fur, Arne found himself sweating at least as much as Julian in the heat of the little room. When Julian took a break from painting to grab some lunch, Arne noticed a new smell filling the air. He was emitting his own flavour of musk now, like Julian’s, but with a bit more of a richness to it from the precum dripping between his legs. He couldn’t help but give his armpits a sniff, licking up what he could reach of his own taste.

Julian returned and grinned at Arne. “Damn, bro, you’re almost ready.”

“What?” Arne looked up at Julian. It felt like he was seeing through a thick haze. It was so hard to think. He had to get outside and get some fresh air. But where were his clothes?

Julian held out a brownie for Arne. “Here, bro, this’ll help that brain of yours along. It’s my special blend.” He winked a dark eye, and Arne obediently took a bite of the brownie from Julian’s hand.

While Julian got back to his painting, Arne felt himself feeling slowly, but insistently, hornier. From licking up the sweat at the top of Julian’s back, he moved lower and lower, until he was licking at the very top of Julian’s musky asscrack. His cock felt iron-hard and huge against his thigh, a continuous stream of precum trickling into his sweaty leg hair.

Julian groaned. “Oh, bro, if you’re gonna get in there, let’s do it for real.” Putting the freshly finished board aside, Julian rose to his feet and pulled Arne up as well.

Arne felt so tall. The floor was so far away. All he could see was his hairy belly and thick, drippy cock as he followed Julian through the door to the bedroom. Then, all he could see was Julian, lying on his back with his legs hooked over Arne’s hairy shoulders. At last, Arne was back in a place that made sense, looking into Julian’s asscrack, licking up the musky sweat on his firm cheeks.

As his tongue dove into Julian’s hole, Arne remembered the first time they had skateboarded together. With his natural musk, it was hard for Arne to make friends with other skaters, but Julian had skated right up to him and invited him back to his place.

As he lined his cock up with Julian and rubbed his copious precum over the shaft, Arne remembered growing up in Vancouver. Dealing weed had been fun before legalisation, but now his job at the dispensary was pretty easy. Arne spent most of his time perfecting his skating tricks or smoking up with Julian or their other musky skater friends.

As he thrust against Julian’s prostate and felt the smaller man begin to tighten around him and cum, Arne remembered how much he loved his buddies. He was the big guy of the group, with his big, hairy muscles and fat, leaky cock. He wasn’t much of a thinker, but he’d do anything for Julian and his bros.

With that thought, Arne felt his balls tighten against him as he unloaded a huge, creamy load in Julian’s ass. As he shuddered, collapsing on top of his bro, there was a knock at the door.

“Fuuuuuck, that’s my next guest,” Julian groaned, whining a little as Arne pulled out. In addition to selling custom skateboards, Julian made extra cash by renting part of his room to gay tourists. Arne loved Julian’s musky, pot-smelling basement, so he thought that sharing the space a bit more was a great idea.

Julian pulled a pair of relatively clean sweatpants up his legs and wiped the worst of his cum off his chest with one of the shirts on the floor. “Just grab some clothes, bro,” he said over his shoulder as he shut the door behind himself.

As he pulled on his XL sweatpants and grabbed his hoodie, Arne listened to Julian introducing himself to this new guy. “What’s up, bro? You must be Yadu. I’m Julian, your host.” The spiel sounded strangely familiar. Careful to leave the hoodie unzipped so he wouldn’t stimulate his oversensitive nipples, and careless of Julian's cum slowly drying in his chest hair, Arne crammed a beanie over his hair and stepped into the living room.

A shrimpy African guy was looking in horror at the room, a small suitcase hanging from his weedy arm. Arne waved at him, and the guy looked like he was about to gag as a wave of Arne’s thick, precummy musk washed over him.

“Sorry, bro, we lost track of time.” Julian was pulling on a shirt in the kitchen. “Arne was just leaving.”

Nodding to Julian, Arne brushed past Yadu and headed out the door, grabbing his skateboard from where it was leaning against the wall. He had to go meet up with Omar at the skate park anyway.

This story is a belated holiday gift for @rakurairagnarok! Here's to a very sexy, transformative new year, my friend ;)

#male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #male tf #reality change #dumber tf #musk tf #stoner tf #all fwkong

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cordeliawhohung · 6 days

Note

Core, what about a bit of competition with ps! Gaz? Some new girl who think's she's already the darling of the studio takes a liking to Gaz, but finds out about his ties with reader.

The one time she gets to film with Gaz, she overplays her role and absolutely covers his neck, collar, shoulder, everything with hickeys, hoping it will deter the reader.

So imagine her shock when the next day, she pops into his dressing room and finds the reader in there as well, applying foundation over the marks and littered with dozens from Gaz himself. ❤️

(I realize how dumb this sounds as an ask but it's been rotting my brain for days and I desperately need it gone so I can focus on my college classes 😭)

thanks this has also been rotting my brain because i just love putting people in their place (: more ps!gaz here <3

The crux of your ass sits in perfect place on Kyle's thighs while your legs straddle the expanse of his hips. Warm hands rest on your waist as you manhandle his jaw, tilting his head side to side to get better access to his neck. Thick, round hickeys litter the delicate skin around his throat and down to his shoulders in angry, red pinpoint marks that break the beautiful and even tone of his skin with something revolting. They look like proper bruises rather than the after effects of a... wild video shoot. As if someone had tried to strangle him rather than make love to him.

You remember the video well, along with that new model with her fake blonde hair and even faker tan that they had paired Kyle with to shoot the other day. You had only seen her in person one time, and you vividly recall the way her blue eyes rolled over your body, assessing every inch of you before ultimately deciding you were worth very little time. Confidence was a must when you worked in the porn industry, but her attitude borders on an arrogance you haven't seen since your teenage years in public school.

As you apply yellow color corrector onto the dark marks on his skin, you nearly shiver as the images of her stained lips suckling on Kyle's neck flood your mind. There was little room to feel jealousy about her ravaging your favorite co-star when you were too busy cringing. So childish. Over zealous. You nearly cried tears of laughter when you noticed Kyle's expression, grimacing at the wet tongue and annoying teeth that nipped at him, yet still having to pretend to enjoy it. Even the comments on the video joked about it.

Put him back with the other model.

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought someone tried to strangle you," you tease.

"She might as well have," Kyle sighs. He adjusts his shoulders against the back of the chair, bare pecs flexing with the movement, bringing your attention to the uncovered marks that line his collarbone. "Haven't been able to go out in public without a goddamn turtleneck 'cause of her."

You chuckle as you finish applying and buffing out the rest of the color corrector along his skin. It leaves him looking sickly and discolored, which oddly enough is an improvement to what it looked like before. Setting the corrector to the side, you grab foundation next, hips swaying as you attempt to get some movement in your aching knees. Holding that position for so long without moving had them burning with fatigue.

"Need a break, doll?" Kyle prompts, hands sliding from your waist to your thighs.

"Don't know if we have time for a break. Got a lot of ground to cover before we start," you humor.

Kyle sits forward, throwing you off balance, yet he doesn't let you sway very far before his arms wrap around you, hands supporting your back. Adoring eyes crease as a grin floods his face. Even without the aid of studio lights he glows like a god as he leans closer and places a kiss on your neck.

"Show can't start without us," he says, teeth grazing your skin as he wanders down to your collarbone. "Could always give you a few hickeys to match, if you want."

He doesn't wait for you to answer before his tongue glides across your clavicles just for his teeth to follow right after. A chuckle rumbles in his chest at the tightening of your legs around his hips, and his hands only pull you closer. It doesn't take much for you to give in. Head rolling back, muscles melting as his lips conquer everything you're willing to give him. It's a delicate softness mixed with a brutal bite, something that leaves you gasping as he pulls the very air from your lungs and feeds on the sounds.

Kyle is more starved for you than usual. Sick of the fake, over dramatic screeching he got last week with that other model, he's hungry for the real thing. Hungry for you.

The unopened foundation falls free from your loose fingers and rolls along the floor into some forgotten corner when his hands wander underneath your shirt. It's a dance he has memorized; unclasping your bra without a second thought and tearing both it and your shirt off in a single, swift motion. He gives you little time to recover before his mouth is on your tits, kissing a sparse trail until he's rolling a perky nipple between his lips.

His bare skin feels like heaven underneath the palm of your hands as you grip his shoulders for stability. He'd take you on the cold, dressing room floors, you knew he would. A part of you wanted him to. Fuck the shoot, they should've learned well enough to put cameras in the dressing rooms by that point with how handsy Kyle Garrick always was with you.

"Can't wait until we get on set to try and undo me?" you ask breathlessly.

"Doll, I'll undo you right here and then again on set if you asked me to," he mumbles into your skin.

A quiet squeak interrupts your moment and the ambiance of the room shifts when the door to Kyle's dressing room opens. His hands grow stiff against your spine as you look over your shoulder at the figure in the doorway. You smell her perfume before you recognize her. Something drowning and floral, like a mall department store. It burns your nose, yet you're too distracted by the slack-mouth surprise etched onto the features of the new blood's face.

It's cute; her confusion. How her eyes flicker over your bare back and Kyle's hands pressed against your skin like he's cradling the only thing he cares for in the world. The dots just can't quite connect in her mind as to why he hasn't completely fallen for her yet, as if the only way she knows how to lure men is by butchering their neck with discolored marks. She can't comprehend why he'd rather have you in his lap than her.

Kyle draws a shocked groan from you when his teeth nip at your shoulder, and your eyes have no choice but to fall away from the woman in the doorway as he pulls you closer to him. His chin gently rests on your shoulder as he stares at the model, hands moving to rest on your hips.

"Need somethin?" he asks, bored.

There is very little you wouldn't have given to see the look on her face, but the small huff followed by the door slamming shut is good enough. Small giggles rattle your body as you lean back to get a better look at Kyle, as if your body would throw a fit if he wasn't within your sight. There's an inexplicable relief that floods his face as he looks up at you, and he mirrors your smile.

"What?" he defends. "Only asked her if she needed somethin."

"I think you broke her heart," you patronize.

"She'll live," he mumbles, lips falling against the crook of your neck again. "Your heart is the only one I care about, anyway."

#pornstar!gaz #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader smut #cod smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader smut #f!reader

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lis-likes-fics · 4 months

Text

Delicious

Pairings: demon!Natasha x Reader Word Count: 5.5k words Prompt: Demon AU Warnings: NSFW, corruption kink, fingering, oral (f! receiving), multiple orgasms, strap-on, swearing... A/N: This is late and it's not very good. This would have been so much better but I have ADHD brain and I had to rush this a bit. Sorry, guys. But I hope you still like it! Thank you!

Natasha had never been in this shop before.

Drawn to a strange feeling coming from within, she wanders inside the little cafe and stares at its warm tones, letting her eyes wander the wall of books, the tables and booths, the counter where a beautiful waitress talks to a customer. She lays eyes on you and can feel the mischief twisting in her gut.

You are perfect.

The light that surrounds you is a beacon of…purity. Your tan apron wraps securely around your body, your hair is out of your face, your smile is brighter than the sun and snow outside. She can taste the innocence oozing off your skin like honey from a honey dipper.

You are radiant, and he can’t wait to hold you in her hands and see how dark she can make you.

A dark and charming grin spreads over her red lips as she walks up to the counter, waiting for you to give your warm goodbye to the last customer and offer a warm hello to the next. She steps forward and swears she could get drunk off your virtue.

You give her a bright smile, and she can see it shining in your eyes too. “Hi! What can I get ya?”

Natasha lets her green eyes wander the menu for only a moment, turning her gaze back to you as she speaks slowly, deeply, letting her rasp wash over you like a siren to a sailor. “I’ll have a mocha.”

You nod, picking up your notepad and a permanent marker to write her order as you take in the sight of her face. She’s beautiful. “And what size would you like that in?”

“Grande.”

You pick up the cup, nodding as you do. “Anything else?”

She looks you up and down, drinking you in some more before gauging what it does to you. You seem almost fidgety, flustered. She grins. “What do you recommend?”

“Well,” you chuckle lightly, “I am a sucker for our Christmas special—the gingersnaps. I shape them like little Christmas trees.” You illustrate your words as you pull your hands up to form a triangle, the closest you can get to the tree.

She raises her brows. “Oh, so you make them?”

You nod proudly, smiling widely as you set your hands on the counter. “I do!”

She hums. You’re adorable. “I’ll take it.”

“Alright-y! Will that be all for you?”

“It will,” she nods simply.

You grab her cup size and clutch the permanent marker. “And what’s the name on that order?”

“Natasha,” she purrs, watching you closely and letting her gaze openly drink you in to see how you’ll react. You’re so flustered already, practically melting at the sultry nature of her voice. “But I think Nat will do just fine.”

You start writing the name, “Nat” in pretty script. “Alright, Natasha. A grande mocha and gingersnaps coming right up!” You say her name like warm icing on cinnamon rolls, letting it drip over your skin like melted caramel. You look at her and smile fondly, shyly, your head tilted slightly down but your eyes glancing up at her nervously. “You have…a beautiful name, by the way.”

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head gently. You're hypnotized. “I can't tell if you're flirting or if you're just that nice.”

“O-Oh!” you say, your eyes widening slightly as she catches you by surprise. “Oh, I'm a really bad flirt.” You meet her eyes again and she sees you panic for a moment as you raise your hands. “W-Well, not to say you're not worth flirting with! I think you're very pretty—gorgeous, even. You're very—You're really–!”

She cuts you off with a hearty laugh, reaching a hand out to gently grab your own as she offers you an almost sly grin. “Relax, sweetness,” she bids. “I think you're absolutely delicious, too.”

“O-Oh,” you sigh, smiling as she eases your nerves. Then you realize, “Delicious?”

“Did I say delicious?” She shakes her head gently as if to say “silly me”. She pats your hand lightly before removing her soft fingers from you. She never looks away from your face. “I meant delightful.”

You nod before you speak. Natasha can't help but think how adorable you are, like the purest angel—but how they are in the movies, not the ones stuck up her ass all the time, calling her pest and rodent and vermin.

No. You would never say something so harsh. She can see it in you, the purest diamond. She wants to break you.

“Okay,” you speak softly—and you're so naïve, she thinks for a moment that you heard her thoughts and were offering yourself up to such exploitations.

She licks her bottom lip subtly. She can almost taste your honey. “What was my total?”

You seem to snap out of whatever thoughts run through your mind. “Well…” you clear your throat, “since you're so nice and I own this place… I'll give you the cookies on the house and bring your total down some.” You lean in, and she thinks you'll wink. “Our secret.”

She doesn't know if she thinks you're capable of holding secrets. But she's been around humankind so much, she knows there's always a secret lurking around the corner. You all just can't help yourselves…

“Nonsense,” she shakes her head. “I'd hate to do that to you.”

You smile gently. “Come on. Let me do this. You've been so nice.”

She scoffs gently, not offendedly. “Nice isn't a word people usually associate with me.”

You tilt your head, genuinely curious as to how someone so sweet could never be called “nice”. “What do they usually use?”

With a dark glint in her pretty green eyes, she smiles. “Sinful.”

“Sinful?” you mutter.

She shrugs a shoulder. “I've got a bit of a…mischievous streak.”

You smile sweetly. “And I like giving pretty girls free cookies.”

Natasha sighs, looking you up and down for the sole reason of flustering you again. “Well,” she says, “at least accept this big tip.”

“Tip?” you tilt your head.

“For a beautiful girl like you.”

She's done it. You clear your throat and nod. “O-Oh. Okay,” you say, watching her pull out her wallet. When she pulls out a hefty $50 bill, your eyes widen and you look like you'll have a heart attack. “Oh, this is too much! I can't accept this!”

She makes a pouty face, gazing at you with those pretty green eyes. She leans forward, and you feel yourself crumbling at the sight of her. “Oh, but you would break my heart if you didn't.” She slides the bill over and smiles, still presenting her puppy dog eyes as she lowers her voice. “You don't want to break my heart…do you?”

No. Never. How could you ever break the heart of someone so…her?

“I…” your teeth graze your bottom lip as you think to yourself before ultimately giving in. “Okay.” You slowly reach your hand out and hesitantly grab the bill, clearing your throat and feeling a little clammy for accepting the money as you put it in the pocket of your apron.

She smiles, but it's more like a smirk, a devilish curl of the lips that you don't quite label as dangerous, like you should.

“Good girl,” she purrs.

You don't know why that has such an effect on you. You feel yourself go limp but you stay standing as your eyes flutter and you feel the need to clear your throat again.

“While I'm in the charitable spirit,” Natasha says, satisfied with your obedience, “why don't you go out with me sometime? Got any Christmas plans?”

Your face is warm, the tips of your ears burn with the idea of going out with such a beautiful creature. As you think of your holiday plans, you shake your head. “Uhm, n-no.” Why can't you seem to speak today?

“No?” she says, her face drenched in surprise. “No dinner with family, an outing with friends?” She finds it hard to believe that a sweet girl like you has nothing to do for the biggest holiday season of the year.

But it's hard to have friends when you're all the way in New York and your family is all the way in California and all your friends are visiting their families or have their own friends to be with.

So, no… no plans for you.

“No,” you smile, almost sadly. “Nothing for me this year.”

Natasha almost thinks she's taking pity on you when she asks this, rather than forming her own plan to taint your white ledger.

“Well, I've got no plans. You've got no plans.” She smiles and reaches her hand out to brush your fingers. “Let's fix that.”

“O-Okay,” you stutter.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She nods, pleased with you. “I'll meet you here, then. Seven o'clock, Christmas day. Dress to impress.”

You smile sweetly. “Always do.”

“I can see that,” she says, looking you up and down with an appreciative glance.

You smile widely, a grand smile that puts the sun to shame. “I'll have your order right out.” You pick up your pen and dot the notepad you have her order written on.

Natasha nods before turning and walking toward a tiny table by the window, the morning light still pouring in, even as the morning slowly dwindles into noon. She watches you as you work, her eyes glued to your body as she follows you everywhere.

You really are just so…pure. She was thinking it may have been a façade to make the customers feel welcome, but one look at you, one sniff of your perfume, one word from your sweet lips and she knew you were sweet as sugar. Pure.

She hasn't met someone this pure in a very long time, if ever.

And you would taste divine.

“Nat.”

Her name said by such honey-tainted lips pulls her from her thoughts. She rises from her seat and makes her way to you once more.

Your smile is already ready, and just so sweet. “I hope you enjoy. Thank you for coming and…” you smile, biting your lip briefly, “I'll see you soon.”

“Thank you…” Her gaze darts down to your nametag, reading the letters one-by-one to savor the taste of it. She says your name like she's making love to it. You shudder. “Beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” you speak, your voice so soft and gracious she could have mistaken it for a whimper.

Natasha grabs the cup and the box of cookies, her fingers intentionally brushing yours as she speaks. “Christmas day. Seven. Don't forget.”

You shake your head. “I won't.”

She smiles. “Goodbye, angel.”

You nod quickly, too excited to see her again. “Bye, Nat.”

She walks out of the little cafe, her treats in hand. She lets the door close behind her, lets the bell ring about her head. Once she's out of the coffee shop but still in your view, she takes a sip of her scorching hot coffee like it's nothing and sighs. Even the coffee is as pure as you, perhaps because it was made by such hands.

She turns her head to see you watching her through the window and just nods. She watches your fluster, nodding proudly back to her before trying to look busy.

She can't wait to devour you.

You don't know how you got here, with your back pressed to your bedroom wall, with Natasha's hands smoothing underneath your shirt to touch the bare skin of your waist, with your lips molding perfectly with her own like they were made to fit together.

You'd gotten to the cafe an hour early, pretending—even to yourself—to tidy the place since you were closed for the holiday. Natasha showed up five minutes late, but fashionably so. She was beautiful; a pretty blouse red as blood, dark slacks tight around her waist and loose the rest of the way down, a black coat draped down past her knees.

The air was knocked from your lungs. She was beautiful.

Her eyes examined you, and she was impressed. You wore a short, long-sleeved, cream-colored dress and skin-colored tights to fight the cold. An angel.

She’d taken your hand and kissed the back of it, telling you how beautiful you were—though you swear you heard her say “delicious” again.

Then she took you to dinner. It was a nice restaurant, somewhere cozy with really good food. She paid for your food and for dessert, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then she took you ice skating. She held your hand the whole time and paid for you, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then she took you on a late night walk through the park. She held your hand and kept you close and told you that the moon looked beautiful on your skin. You told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then when she walked you home, telling you how beautiful you were at the doorstep and taking your hands and pulling you in for a gentle kiss, you smiled and kissed her back. Then she kept kissing you, and you kept kissing back.

And it turned into you opening your door and letting her inside, kissing her some more and offering her coffee, only to have her tell you that she had everything she needed right here.

Hands wandered, then lips wandered, then she pressed you into the wall, and now she's got you laid out on your bed, still fully dressed and so, so hot.

She leans over you, inhaling the scent of your perfume with a sigh as she keeps kissing you. You hold her, your arms wrapped securely around her neck to keep her close.

Her teeth graze your lip, struggling to refrain from biting so hard, she draws the sweet syrup of your blood. You lean into her touch, keening against her and longing to savor the flavor of her name on your lips as you whisper, “Natasha.”

She wraps her hand around your throat as her mouth trails down to your neck, to your collarbone, feeling your pulse beating rapidly under the skin. Her teeth sink into your flesh, and she chuckles deeply when your breath hitches.

She could just as easily crush your windpipe if she wanted to. She could snap her fingers, and you'd be reduced to nothing but a pile of ash and bone.

But where was the fun in that?

No, she would savor you. She would lick your skin and taste the sweet ambrosia you'd create all for her. She would carve her name into your flesh with the bite of her claws. She would sink her sharp teeth to the bone. She would make you scream until the only word you knew were the letters of her name.

Her hand dips low under your dress, gripping your thigh as she slowly moves it up, up, up, her fingers digging into your skin as she does. Your eyes flutter shut, resorting to just feeling her as she touches you any way she likes. She hums deep in her throat as she pulls back to look at you, riding your dress up and pulling your leggings down so she can see the pretty panties you wore for her.

“Mm,” she sighs. “You look delicious, darling.”

Your tiny chuckle comes out as a breathy moan. “Don’t you mean,” you whimper slightly as her sharp nails dig into your skin as they make their way down your leg, the stinging sensations exciting you more than she initially thought. Corrupting you will be easy. “Don’t you mean ‘delightful’?”

Her hand around your throat tightens just a slight, not enough to constrict any airflow, but just enough for you to feel the warmth of her palm against your skin. “No,” she rasps. “I mean delicious.”

She manages to get your tights off, humming appreciatively at your lacey panties before ripping those off your body instead. You gasp lightly but say nothing else, allowing her to do as she wishes as you sit back and enjoy it.

Your hips jerk when her thumb teases the skin of your mound, dipping between your thighs just enough to press it lightly to your clit. Your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling in quick succession as she presses her thumb so lightly, you wonder if she’s actually touching you. She teases you like this for a moment, feather-light touches that make you so desperate for her.

“Tasha,” you whimper. “Please, I need you.”

Her eyes glint at the way you plead for her. Already, you’ve begun to beg. You’re so responsive, so sensitive to her touch. One would think you were untouched, but no… She would be able to smell that off you, and she smells that this is not the first time someone has been between your legs.

How precious you are. Tainted but still so unspoiled.

The pad of her middle finger grazes your slit, teasing you further as your body keens for her touch. “Say it one more time for me, baby,” she whispers in your ear. “Say it. ‘Please, I need you.’ Lemme hear it.”

You whine gently, letting one hand travel to her hair to let your fingers card through the softness of her red locks. You let your bottom lip pass between your teeth before you gladly obey her. “Please,” you whisper, lifting your hips to meet her. “I need you.”

Proud of herself, and of you, she slips her finger inside of you, sheathing it in the warmth and wetness of your body. You hum, closing your eyes. “How is that, angel?” she smiles, watching your eyes dart behind your closed lids.

You nod, parting your lips as a breath passes through them. “Yes.”

She grins devilishly. “Good girl.” She rewards you with another finger in the tightness of your slickening pussy. You reward her with another little whimper. She pumps them slowly, in and out of you, pushing them deep to feel every little part of you before allowing herself to pull out and do it again.

She curls her fingers inside of you, a come hither motion making your lips round into a ‘o’ shape. You whisper her name again, gently begging her for more. More closeness, more pleasure, more her.

She pumps them slowly, massaging your spongy walls as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. “More?” you whimper, still so polite as you beg her for a request. And how could she say no when you’re as sweet as you are?

“You want more of me, angel?” she smiles. “I’ll give you some more.”

She dips down to kiss your collarbone again before she pulls her fingers out of you and laughs at the way you whimper, a pathetic little sound at the loss of her touch. Before you can begin to protest, you hear her snap and feel the zipper at your back begin to zip down your body. But you have no time to question her, as her lips attack yours between the time it takes to pull the dress over your head and off your body.

You don’t seem shy when you are laid bare to her. You keep holding her and kissing her, forgetting your confusion and shock before in favor of tasting the spice of her lips. She pushes you back onto the bed, abruptly separating you, even as your hands stay attached to her arms just to feel her soft skin.

She leans down over your body and lets her kisses ghost over your flesh, a phantom of herself teasing you. You feel her warm breath at the juncture of your thighs and want nothing more than to feel her tongue next. And it seems your prayers are answered when the hot muscle of her tongue flattens against your wet pussy and licks the arousal she’s pulled from you.

She’s happy to listen to the way you whisper her name under your breath when her lips wrap around you, allowing her tongue to plunge between your folds and fill you with pleasure. You moan and grind your hips against her face. She has to hold you down, chuckling darkly as she continues to lap at your needy core.

She sucks around your clit and swirls around your folds, tasting the sweetness you bear with a deep hum. “You taste just as delicious as you smell,” she rasps, kissing you messily. “This body is so…divine.” You melt under her praise, your hands tangling in her hair as your chest heaves.

Her fingers join her tongue once more, stroking and spreading and slipping in and out of you with the sole goal of tasting more of your sweet, sweet honey. “Natasha,” you moan. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? That’s a new one. Out of all the words in the Urban dictionary that can be used to describe Natasha Romanoff, sweetheart is not among them. Still, it’s sweet, and she thinks you’re adorable for thinking that way.

Natasha devours you, feeding off your moans like they are the essence of her being. Her hands grip your flesh and her tongue delves inside of you. She replaces her tongue with her fingers once more, pumping them in and out of you, curling against that sweet spot hidden deep within you. Your back arches and your moans get sucked up into the walls of your bedroom, pitchy and full of breath and desperation. You need her like you need air.

You moan her name again and she knows you’re close by the way your pussy tightens around her fingers, the way your clit pulses between her lips, by the way your fingers begin to tug at the locks of red hair you have tangled between them. She works harder, so eager to taste your nectar.

You hurdle over the edge with a loud, gasping moan. She holds you securely atop the counter, fingering and licking at your pussy as you gush around her, easing you through your orgasm. You chant her name under your breath, riding out your high against her face as she keeps building you up and prolonging your release just so she can continue to suck on your offerings, like the sap from a maple tree.

The last sparks of pleasure shoot through your limbs, in your belly. Your hips jerk when her fingers curve inside of you just a slight. She pulls them out and pulls away and licks her lips like she’s gotten sugar smeared all over them. “Oh, my angel,” she rasps. “Like heaven on earth.”

And you think she’s done as you will yourself to sit up, offering a sweet smile as you pull her in to kiss again, fully intending on seeing if she tastes just as “delicious” as she keeps telling you that you are.

But she breaks her kiss and stands off the bed and to her feet. You sit back, watching her pull her blouse over her head as her eyes stay glued to your beautiful body. She slips her lacey, only-for-decoration bra from her body to leave herself in nothing but her slacks.

You gaze at her, taking in the perfect hour-glass of her body and gawking when she steps out of her slacks and presents you with the strap-on she’s been hiding all this time. She watches the way you stare at it, smirking to herself as she stalks back over to you, leaning on the bed with her knee. “You like?” she says.

You bring your gaze up to her face, swallowing thickly and feeling embarrassment warming in your face for staring. You just nod. She chuckles, cupping your chin with her hand and shaking her head. She thinks you’re adorable.

She slides the hand around to your neck, cupping you there and pulling you in for a kiss. You moan, leaning into her. “But what about you?” you whisper, pressing your hand to her side and stroking your fingers over the skin.

She shrugs, “Don’t worry.” You miss the small wave of her hand behind her back as she lets her magic wash over her, connecting her own pleasure to that of her strap as she’s done a million times before. But you don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know the extent of her inhumanity. It isn’t important to the pleasure she derives from getting to taint something as pure as you. “It’s double-sided,” she lies.

You don’t get to protest because her lips are already on yours again. She slides her fingers through your folds again, swallowing your moans as she lays you down on your back and spreads you wide open for her.

As you're distracted by her kiss, she thrusts inside of you with a deep moan. You break the kiss, laying your head back and letting out a whimper of your own as she fills you, stretches you open for her as your tight pussy adjusts. You whisper her name like a prayer, and she moans yours like a sin.

She gives you only a moment to adjust to her size before she's moving her hips, a slow and steady in and out as she gets herself used to the feel of you, and oh… You definitely do not disappoint as you squeeze her cock like a vice.

“Fuck, my angel,” she laughs to herself. “You're fucking perfect.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders and savor the strokes of their cock inside you. “Please, Tasha,” you mutter.

She likes the way Tasha sounds. She's never been called Tasha before, her nickname has always been Nat. But the way it sounds falling from your lips, like a spell seeping into her skin and pulling her under your enchantment.

And it's hard to deny you when you look as precious as you do.

Her cock slides in and out of you in long, slow strokes as she fills you to the brim. You bite down on your bottom lip, your eyes closing as you breathe long, heavy sighs at the feelings she thrusts into you.

The desire for you, the desire to tear you apart invaded every little crevice of her being as she lost herself to more and more of her urge to fuck you desperate. She wants to hear your angelic voice beg a demon to fuck her nice and deep. She wants to see you fall apart, become a sinner all for her.

She grips your hips tightly, her rough thrusts no longer forgiving as she decides to take you how she wanted. You moan and whimper as your legs climb her waist until they're wrapped around her. She holds your thigh and just keeps thrusting.

You stutter her name, your capacity to remember anything else already slipping. She thrusts into you with all the passion in the world.

And then she pulls out at the pique of your wanton moans. You mewl and uselessly grab at her arms and waist. She separates from you with a sigh and ignores your attempts at bringing her back in, turning you on your stomach instead.

She thrusts inside without another word, filling you up from behind as you let your head hang. “There you go,” she husks. “That's better. Now I can fuck you like a whore.”

You moan, gripping the sheets and letting her do as she pleases. She keeps fucking you, relishing in the building sound of her hips smacking against your slick skin, the sound of you practically crying at the feeling of her fucking you so roughly making it harder to hold back.

“P-Please,” you stutter, clenching harder at the feeling. “Please don't stop. You're…amazing.”

Your gentle praise spurs her on more than she'd intended. She presses her finger to your clit and begins to rub fast, tight circles over it. She wants to feel you come undone. The more you cum on her cock, the more tainted you become with her darkness.

Her cock spears into you, pulling the dirtiest sounds from you as they echoed in the room—skin on skin, wet against wet. Your mouth falls open and you let out breathless cries accompanied with their own pleasured tears as they slip down your cheeks.

It feels so good, and you're going to cum.

You feel your body getting ready for it, building up higher and higher until you can do nothing but moan Natasha's name and shake upon your crashing release.

“Tasha,” you whine, dragging the last syllable out and breaking off into a pathetic moan. She keeps fucking you, groaning roughly as you clench so tightly around her. You gush and moan and she can't help but to fuck you just a little harder.

And when the orgasm melds to a little tremble, she keeps going. One of her hands wraps around your throat, tightening just a bit. She likes to feel her veins thumping under her palm, she likes to feel your life in her hand.

And apparently, so do you as you wrap your hand around hers and hold it securely there. Her eyes close as your pussy tightens, her thrusts become rougher as your moans become louder. She is going to make you cum again, she's set on it.

Your legs are a trembling mess, your arms are slowly dwindling in the strength they need to hold you up. “Please,” you mewl again. “Please don't stop, Tasha. I need you so…fucking bad.”

She feels successful. That's the first time she's heard you curse, and she's so excited to have spoiled your tongue with such a word. She rubs your clit again, wanting to reward you.

“I want you to cum for me again, angel,” she rasps. “All over me. Come on.”

Her thrusts are becoming sloppy, so absorbed in her oncoming release as she readies herself for your own. She pulls you back to meet her thrusts, rough and fast and deep as she continues to build you up.

You moan loudly as the pleasure builds and builds until it snaps. You throw your head back, crying out as you cum with the tight squeeze of your cunt. The warmth and the wetness of your pussy is too much as Natasha follows after you. She moans deeply in her throat as she grinds roughly inside of you, burying her cock in your pussy as if she was cumming in you to give you a deeper taint of your purity.

You allow your arms to give out as you fall forward onto the bed and muffle your moans into the sheets. She keeps gripping your hips tight, still riding out her high as she moans your name and lets out a string of curses.

Your whole body is shuddering by the time both your pleasure is reduced to tiny spasms through your limbs. She thrusts her hips a couple more times before pulling out of you with a long sigh.

You roll onto your side, lazily lying there as you glance up at Natasha with heavy eyelids. She runs a hand through her hair and gathers herself, looking down at you as the pride shimmers in her eyes and her chest.

She watches you, smiling, though she can't help a prickle of confusion when she takes in the sight of you. You lay there, half-asleep and completely spent, bare and vulnerable and exploited by her darkness.

And, yet, you look every bit like an angel as when she first met you. You look just as sweet, smell just as sweet, smile at her just as sweetly.

“Thank you,” you whisper sweetly. She watches you, watches as you pat the spot next to you and cast your innocent eyes on her.

And she's curious, so she lays down where you offer her a spot. Then you cup her cheek with the palm of your hand and kiss her, a long and slow and gentle kiss that Natasha becomes conflicted with as she leans into it.

Then you wrap your arms around her body and pull her in tight so she can't escape—or, she could… but she won't. All that time spent trying to corrupt you, and you're still the virtuous little angel she met at the coffee shop, cradling her in your arms and kissing her forehead and thanking her for the night of passionate fucking she'd just given you.

There is a warmth in your arms that Natasha hasn't felt in a long time. She's not quite sure if she's ever felt a warmth like this. She leans into it, she feels herself succumbing to your purities, despite her best efforts.

Curious, she lets you hold her, even longer after you had fallen asleep as she could safely slip away into the night, never to see you again.

But, no… You intrigue her. She couldn't leave now, especially if there was still so much virtue left in you. She will have to stick around. Yes… she will have to keep you a while longer.

You are a rare delicacy. She couldn't let you go to waste.

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sweetadonisbutbetter · 25 days

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Hellooo. Could I have scenarios of soft Adam? Anything is fine, just possible moments where he’s being soft for reader? Maybe it’s late at night or something? Or maybe it’s early in the morning and he doesn’t wanna get up? Just some prompts just so I’m not being too vague

Thank you!

I DID NOT FORGET MY ADAM PEOPLE- getting other fandom works in there teehee these are so cute tysm for ur request!! apologies if its short 💞💞 also tan/brown adam ftw!!!!! 💯💯💯

Fade into you | Adam x GN! Reader

Relationship: Romantic Warnings: None!

It was a common thing to have lazy mornings with your husband. Especially if he had to do something later in the day, he would spend most of his morning cuddling up next to you while you attempt to push him off. Not that it ever worked, and he always showed up late to his events anyway.

“What’s five more minutes? Not like they will miss me.”

“Baby, they are hosting your party.”

“Ahh who needs that when I have you?” Was what he always said before sinking further into your chest.

It seemed that today was no different. You awoke to a weight on your chest and hands under your shirt. Already knowing who it is, you place a hand on your husband's hair and comb through it with your fingers. He hums, giving your sides a squeeze for a moment. You tug on it slightly, making him groan and you laugh a little.

“Is there anything on the agenda today?” You ask him, just as you do every morning. He says nothing, just humming as his hands move under you to your back. You giggle at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your soft spots, hoping Adam doesn’t take advantage of his weight on you. To your relief, he doesn’t, just fully holding you. He shifts a bit, getting comfortable between your legs before once again resting fully on you. You tug at his hair once again, a way of asking him to answer.

“No.” He gruffs, putting his face further into your neck.

“No? Are you sure? If I call Lute, she would tell me the same thing?” He smacks his teeth and bites back.

“There is no need to call danger tits. There is nothing happening today.” You pull your hands up in mock defeat.

“Sorry. You normally lie about these things.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Honey, you literally missed a meeting with Sera and Emily once because you would rather be in bed than do anything else.” You coo, combing his hair again. You feel him take a deep breath as he removes his head from your neck, now looking at you.

“Try being dead for all of humanity.” You roll your eyes and boop at his nose.

“While I may not have been dead for as long as you and Eve have old man, I am still pretty old compared to the newer saints.”

“Winners.”

“No. That is a dumb name. I will never be called or call the others winners.” You argue.

“No? Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You affirm, before feeling Adam attack your sides, tickling you. You shriek in shock before devolving into laughter. You try to escape, however it proves futile as Adam is on top of you.

“What are we called?” He asked, still tickling you. Through your peals of laughter, you shout out,

“SAINTS!” Adam mimics an incorrect buzzer sound as he starts to now get at your tickle spots faster. With the feeling of tears gathering in your eyes, your cheeks and tummy hurting, you can’t help but give in to his stupid demands. “F-Fine! We are c-called winners- STOP AH-”

He stops at your hasty white flag, a smug smirk on his face. Catching your breath, you look at your husband. His brown hair was a mess, just as it always was. His tan skin looked wonderful in the heaven light that peaked through your window. It seemed that he was also admiring you, as his smirk began to soften into a small smile, a look of utter fondness and love in his eyes. You wonder if you had a similar look on your face. Rather than ponder it any longer, you pull Adam down by his shirt for a kiss. He lets out a gasp at the suddenness of your grab before sinking into the kiss. Your hands fly to his face as his hands go down to your sides, lightly passing the tickle spots he has abused previously. You giggle a little into the kiss, before pushing his face away.

“I seriously hope you had nothing important today. You don’t have a choice now but to stay with me.”

“Babe, I would stay with you for eternity.” He says, his voice soft, the voice he reserved for you and you alone. You smile and pull him into another kiss.

loll i was going to joke that this was the one year Adam forgot the extermination.

#hazbin hotel x reader #Hazbin Hotel Adam x reader #adam x reader #☾adoniswrites #anon ask #anon request

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maxislvt · 7 months

Text

Succubus Season

pairing(s): succubus! wanda maximoff x reader, brief natasha romanoff x reader

summary: Just when your life starts to come together, life throws another curve ball at you. Except this time it isn't a bully or a shitty English teacher. This curve ball is seven feet tall with horns and a lot of pent-up sexual energy.

warnings: jealousy, possessive thoughts/behavior, AMAB!Reader, dom!Wanda, sub!Reader, anal sex, anal fingering, prostate milking, overstimulation, cum eating, size kink (she's 7 feet tall)

a/n: Idk this is a tad self indulgent but it's Fine because it's sexy

Event Masterlist

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Adulthood came with many struggles. You made it through high school, your poor budgeting habits, and you're currently pushing your way through medical school. It wasn't easy, but your determination and pride got you through it. Now you were one step further into adulthood by owning a house. No more roommates or weird landlords. Just your own space with no one else in it.

However, you hit an unexpected bump in the road.

Moving in seemed harder than doing all the paperwork. At first, you blamed it on how far you were moving. Some of your friends were kind enough to drive anywhere from 2 to 15 hours to help you move. It was possible they were tired and didn't consider how strenuous moving was. Then things got a little bit odd. You couldn't leave a room unattended for more than half an hour without someone getting some sort of freak injury. Luckily it was nothing worse than little cuts or bruises.

Oddly, fixing up the garage proved to be the hardest part. Bucky got sent to the hospital over a spider bite. Steve's asthma suddenly kicked up — though part of that was his fault considering everyone told him it'd be a bad idea to clean a dusty room without an inhaler. A lot of them had been overcome with mysterious illnesses and your team was getting smaller and smaller.

Eventually, it was down to just you and Tony.

All that was left to do was fix your janky garage door and the god-awful cabinets. It should've been a simple job. Replacing a few doors and fixing up some gears. Unfortunately, it turned out to be nearly impossible.

"God, this stupid fucking drill." You grumbled while trying to loosen the screws holding the cabinet door together. Tool malfunctions were another thing hindering your progress. One toolbox to fix the whole house wasn't entirely effective, but the finicky handles and rather disagreeable drill bits weren't making it any better. "Son of a bitch, these cabinet doors are hideous anyways!" After another failed attempt at removing the screw, you slam the tool on the countertop with a frustrated grunt. You slammed it a bit too hard against the counter because the sound shook the whole garage.

The old gears in your garage door creaked and shook before suddenly turning to drop the door.

"Tony, look out!" You shouted before running over to catch the door. The metal door slammed down hard on your shoulder blades. "Ah, shit!" You hissed out. It took all your strength to push the door back up. "Fuck, are you okay?" You asked Tony while rubbing your bruising shoulder blades.

Tony stared up at the garage door before getting up. He anxiously cleared his throat. "Well, if that doesn't open my eyes to my old age, I don't know what will." His shaky hands smooth out his shirt before grabbing his tools. "Yeah kid, I think I'm gonna call it a day after that." An unusually shaky sigh fell from his lips as he hugged you.

You looked up at the garage door. It needed to be fixed, but nothing physical was worth the life of a friend. "Um..yeah you do that. I'll just fix it my-"

"Don't do that," Tony interrupted, knowing your history with home repair.

A grimace overtook your features, but you knew Tony was right. "Okay, I won't fix it myself. I'll try and find some company to do it." You patted Tony on the back. He wasn’t the most tan friend you had, but you'd never seen him so pale before. "We should get you a drink before letting you head home."

With that, you were down to just yourself.

Your shoulders were in too much pain for you to keep working so you called it a day. Eight o'clock was a bit early for you, but you were much too shaky to do anything else. After a quick shower and some pain cream on your shoulder blades, you called it a day. Pain and warm water turned out to be the perfect combination for sleep.

"Release me…"

You shot up and immediately looked around the room. No one else was in your room. You weren't sure if it was real, but there were goosebumps on your skin and the hairs on your neck wouldn't lay down. As scary as it was, you decided you must've left the TV on up front and ignored it.

The next morning you're a bit jarred but ready to spend the weekend cleaning.

You looked around the garage to see what you had left to do. The garage door was off-limits and you were beyond frustrated with the cabinets in there. Just when you thought it'd be a simple work day, you noticed a hatch on the roof. Odd, you don't remember there being an attic on the room list when you bought the house.

You shrugged and jumped up to bring down the step ladder. The creaking underneath your feet meant it was time for the wood to be replaced, but you decided to prioritize exploration. Which turned out not to be the best idea.

"What the fuck!?" The words slipped out before you could even think. You looked around the attic. Chalk lines drawn out to make a magical symbol that you weren't even going to pretend you understood. There were more symbols carved into the wall. In the middle of it all, there was a small table. You weren't crazy enough to step towards it but you could see a jar filled with some mysterious liquid surrounded by other magical trinkets you didn't want to touch. "...Well, I guess that's what I get for buying a three-bedroom house for less than 100,000," You whispered as you climbed down the ladder.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Now that you were terrified of your garage, you decided to focus on the less haunted part of your house.

It was a pain in the ass to move furniture and boxes by yourself, but better than a bunch of mysterious dead friends. After about a month or so, you were finally satisfied with the state of your house. The once barren walls were now filled with photographs and pairings. Long gone was the feeling of emptiness. It was your space now.

"Let me out, detka, please."

Oh, and the space of whatever freaky demon that was occupying that jar in your attic. Ignoring it was becoming harder. What started as the occasional whisper in your sleep turned into uncomfortably realistic wet dreams and a lot of ruined underwear. Now you could feel it hovering over you.

Tonight was the worst of it. Sensual kisses along the column of your neck pulled you in and out of sleep. Its hands were abnormally adventurous too. A less sleep-deprived version of yourself would've questioned the kisses on your neck, but your lack of sleep had left you a tiny bit delusional. One particular rough kiss finally woke you up properly.

The pain made you jolt up. "Fuck, you're having fun with this." You whisper despite the fact you're not sure it was listening. Your sleep shorts are stained with precum and you're painfully erect. A heavy sigh fell from your lips. "God, I hope you don't turn out to be some evil murder demon." The walk to your garage felt incredibly long. Each step added to the knot in your stomach. It was a miracle you didn't vomit by the time you stood underneath the hatch.

Your body moved as if it weren't your own. Awkward and clunky, but desperate to reach a goal you weren't too keen on. Once the ladder dropped back down your fate was sealed. You climbed up into the attic and stumbled towards the table.

For a moment just looked at the jar. Then you started laughing. "God, I am losing my mind. What is this stuff anyways, some disgusting old jam?" You scuffed with unwarranted confidence as you opened the jar.

It was not jam. Nor was it jelly or some other kind of preserve.

It was a seven-foot-tall demon. She had tinted red skin and two sets of horns sticking out of her head. You could see serrated teeth and an uncomfortably long tongue behind plum lips. You couldn't see them since they were above your head and you weren't going to risk looking away from it, but you could tell that it had claws.

The only thing keeping you from screaming your head off was not wanting to deal with a noise complaint in the morning.

"So um, can you put in on rent or are you just gonna bum out in my attic?"

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Wanda lived on Earth for thousands of years and never had she met a human more determined than you were. At first, she blamed your disinterest on her demonic form, but not even her human form could take your eyes off whatever project had taken up your time. Your focus was admirable, but Wanda was starting to get hungry.

So she decided to be more upfront about her needs.

Today, the only thing between her and a proper meal was a book. One you'd been reading for nearly an hour, but it was easier to take your attention away from that than it was from work.

Wanda laid down on your stomach and looked up at you with the softest, most desperate eyes she could muster. "I know this might come off as too much, but I'm really hungry...I just need a little something to get me through the day." Her eyes carefully watched your facial expression. Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips turned down.

"Oh, you must be starving."

Wanda was expecting a more sympathetic tone, but you said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You quickly marked your page in the book and laid it down on the coffee table. "Wait right here, I'll make you something good." Part of you felt like one of those evil landlords on Reddit. You were making her pay rent but she didn't feel comfortable eating. "I have some snacks in the cabinets if you're really hungry. Help yourself to whatever."

Her fingers twitch. It's not what she wanted, but she found herself tempted. "It's fine, I can wait," She whispered. Succubi shouldn't get nervous. Wanda's hands reached out and held your waist. The benefit of being a succubus is that Wanda knows you won't deny her. Her fingers slipped underneath your shirt just to feel the softness of your skin. "What are you cooking?"

The question confused Wanda. She'd never cared about a human beyond a desire to feed off of them, but you were different. She was desperate to know more about you. Wanda wanted you in a way that she'd never wanted a human before. Thoughts of jealousy began stirring in her heart. As her fingertips explored the softness of your skin.

It didn't take long for that desire to evolve into something more deviant. Wanda found herself hating the physical space between you and her. She found herself disappointed she couldn't be inside you. As adorable as human fragility was, she couldn't stand the fact she couldn't be closer. Wanda needed to be under your skin and next to your still-beating heart. A hoodie could only make up for that half the time.

It wouldn't be much longer before she'd have to feed from you. Only you.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It was embarrassing to admit as a succubus, but Wanda had officially gone multiple months without feeding from anyone. To rub salt in the wound, the one person she wanted to feed from seemingly had no issue sleeping around.

You were always talking up some girl and brought a new one home every other week. That was bad enough on its own, but you were always kind enough to make them breakfast or wash their clothes before sending them off. And once they were gone, you were right back by Wanda's side like nothing happened. Like you didn't just manage to play with the feelings of a succubus and send her into a jealous spiral.

Your latest adventure seemed to get under her skin like no one else before. This mysterious redhead had done quite a number on you. Dark red and purple bruises littered your neck and shoulders and you could barely stand upright. If you hadn't bashfully shooed her away, Wanda wouldn't have had a problem helping. Of course, your little fling was there to save the day.

"I didn't think you'd be able to walk after all that," The woman said with an amused tone. She sauntered up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist. Her chin rested on top of your head. "You sure you don't want me to finish those up for you? I'm a little worried you're gonna collapse on me."

You squirmed in Natasha's grasp as her fingers traced along the top of your waistband. "Y-yeah, it's fine Natasha. Just go watch TV or something…" The blush on your face is almost hot enough to cook the eggs. You don't even remember the last time someone made you this bashful. It was new. "I appreciate your offer though," You mumbled, unsure how to carry on the conversation.

"You're still shy even after last night?" Natasha asked teasingly. Her fingertips slipped into your boxers but didn't move much further past the waistband. She pushed her hips against your ass just enough for you to feel the pressure. "I think I like being right here, just like this." She whispered into your ear. Her eyes looked off to the side with a knowing smirk.

The whole scene made Wanda sick with jealousy. Her stomach churned every time you laughed at one of Natasha's jokes. Succubus couldn't throw up, but she. would've already. You were hers even if you didn't know it yet.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You felt like you were going mad.

It was getting harder to suppress your attraction to Wanda. You wish you could blame it on her interest in human clothes or all the cuddling, but neither of those was the problem. It was all your perverted tendencies. Every time Wanda crossed your mind it was always something sexual. These thoughts weren't brief either. Once you started one of your sick little fantasies, it was hard to stop. You were washing 20 pairs of underwear a week with how much precum you were leaving.

Your growing relationship with the demon only made things more complicated. Wanda seemed to become more physically affectionate by the day. Her human form was cute but it was her natural form that seemed to be giving you the most trouble. The shock of meeting a demon for the first time had worn off and you began to notice the small details. If your dick would appreciate them as well.

The only thing it seemed to care about was how big Wanda was. Especially when she was using you as her body pillow. The softness of her breast pressed against your chest and it was driving you mad. You were so focused on not getting a boner that you completely drowned out the noise from the movie.

As fun as watching you squirm and wiggle, Wanda had waited long enough.

She sat up on your lap, straddling your hips with her thighs. Wanda's hand slipped underneath your shirt to keep you pinned to the couch. Her claws lightly scratched at the sensitive skin. "It's cute you think I can't tell how turned on you are right now." A satisfied chuckle escaped her lips as you sucked your breath. "Don't think I haven't heard all those nasty little thoughts in your heads."

Your eyes followed Wanda's fingers nervously. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me!" She toyed with the hem of your shorts. You were at a loss for words. It wasn't like you could deny your feelings with your dick hard as a rock. “I know we’re like roommates, but we don’t have to do anything!” Embarrassment wasn't good enough to describe how you were feeling. You wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Wanda ripped off your shorts in one swift motion. “Oh detka, I want to be something more than just roommates.” Her long tongue licked the precum oozing from your neglected tip. It left a savory taste in her mouth that she couldn't help but enjoy. “God you don’t know how hard it was to live knowing you were wasting this stuff on girls who couldn’t make you feel half as good as I do.” Her free hand massaged your balls as she took your length inside her mouth. They weren’t as full as she would’ve liked them to be, but Wanda knew she would have access to them whenever she wanted them. Self-control was quickly flying out the window. Her hunger was starting to take over and she no longer had it in her to go slow for your sake. Wanda needed your cum and she needed a lot of it. “Do you know the best part of having sex with a succubus?”

The pleasure alone had your head spinning. “W-what?” It wasn’t a response to her question, but rather a moment of shock at Wanda’s confession. You weren’t well versed in the land of demons, but you didn’t think Wanda was anything like that. Was she gonna eat you? Maybe you should’ve asked more questions rather than worrying about her paying rent.

Her hand wrapped around your dick and began stroking slowly. She leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “I know exactly how to fuck you senseless.” Wanda hooked your legs over her shoulders. This time, Wanda's tongue went straight for your asshole. She watched your eyes roll to the back of your head with a satisfied smirk. No one's ever fucked you this way. It's almost impossible for her tongue fuck you the way she'd like but your whining makes up for it.

You're a mess. It felt like your insides were melting, but you were too overstimulated to even consider pushing back. You were usually the one on top and doing all the teasing. Now it was near impossible for you to speak without moaning and stumbling over your own words. "F-fuck, I'm close. Please don't stop, I'm gonna cum!" Your hands grabbed Wanda by her horns and pulled her closer to your ass.

Wanda hummed against you. You looked so cute when you were desperate to cum. She pushed your shirt up to your chest and signaled for you to hold it up. Of course, you do it without question. That mindless obedience would get you far. Wanda's tongue pressed down against your prostate. Milking you was a bit much for your first time doing anal, but Wanda wasn't going to hold back.

You couldn't even speak. It was just a string of desperate moans in place of words. The knot in your stomach bubbled up and snapped suddenly. Cum shot out of you in sticky, hot ropes. Your orgasm was almost never ending. Every time you thought it was over, she'd keep pushing you.

Wanda kept milking you until you'd gone soft. Her tongue slipped out of your hole. She wasted no time licking up the cum dripping down your chest and stomach. A deep, guttural moan escaped her lips at the taste of your cum. Her eyes glowed a deep red for a brief second. Wanda looked into your eyes and smirked. "I never want to see you with anyone else. Got it?"

You looked into her eyes and suddenly felt so tired. It was like a trance. There were a lot of questions going through your mind but you were too weak to ask any of them. "Got it." Was the only thing you could manage to say.

Wanda affectionately scratched your head. You were like a pet to her. "Let's get you cleaned up," She kissed your cheek before lifting you up and taking you to your bedroom.

You were grateful for her immense strength and gentleness. There was no way you'd be able to walk all the way to your room after that. You only vaguely heard Wanda's request that you not fall asleep while she prepared a bath for you. As tired as you were, there was something subconsciously urging you to stay awake as she requested. You rolled over slowly when Wanda returned from the bathroom. "Are you like…in my head forever now?" You asked sleepily.

Your question caught Wanda off guard. She didn't answer your question at first. Instead, she rolled you onto your stomach. It was only then that she had the answer to your question. "It appears so." She said calmly. Her fingers traced the tattoo now permanently etched into your skin. "Don't worry, I'll be kind to you..if you behave."

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #Pluto's Halloween Bash 2023

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familyvideostevie · 3 months

Text

it's your turn for choosing

this was born out of a prompt request from my dear, dear, @softlyspector. this is for you, becca!

getting asked out via a smudgy scribble on a coffee cup | valentine's day prompts

joel miller x reader

summary/warnings: joel stops by your coffee shack every day. it's not your fault you're a little in love with him because of it. | modern au, fluff, flirting, jesse and cat and ellie cameos, game!joel in my head. i have not been a barista so sorry to all baristas if this reads wildly off-base. | 5.6k

a/n: it's giving rom-com! happy valentine's day. a bit different from my usual fare but hopefully it makes your heart warm. love u. thank u always to @macfrog and @bageldaddy for your eyes.

___

7:32 am. It’s helpful in this line of work to know exactly when you’re fucked.

The espresso machine has been on the fritz all week and despite how much you want your current method of fixing it to work – banging a fist on the top until it stops wheezing – all signs point to today being a very bad day indeed.

You’ve only been open for two hours.

Here for three, awake for four. God, you’re tired.

Anyway – you’re fucked. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

You call the time of death on the machine and search for something you can write on.

The Zone – a stupid name, but you can’t be bothered to change the sign that came with the place – is a coffee shop that sits between towns.

Your coffee shop.

It's more shack than shop, not really a zone of anything, just an order window and a five-drink menu. It's the kind of place that appears like a mirage for tourists right before they get on the highway at an ungodly hour and serves as a quick stop for everyone else. You open earlier than any other place around to get the truckers and the farmers and close when you stop being able to keep your eyes open.

The faded brown clapboard building is no bigger than an RV. The paint is chipped and the roof is a too-bright shade of green and you serve your drinks and the occasional sweet treat when you can get a good deal off of the baker two towns over through a window. It’s not a fancy chain, it’s not a drive-thru. You’ve got a bathroom and a few rickety cafe tables and chairs and no fucking common sense since you like it.

You even love it, some days.

And the craziest part is that it works. Even on mornings like this one, when your espresso machine breaks during the lull between rushes and your part-time help calls in sick and you’ve spilled coffee all over your apron twice – it works.

You tear off the lip of a cardboard box and write in big block letters: NO ESPRESSO TODAY. Maybe Tess, the baker, knows someone who can fix it. She knows everyone.

“Fuck you, you piece of junk,” you say. You give the machine another smack for good measure.

Someone clears their throat and you whirl around, makeshift sign in hand.

You’ve been doing this long enough that a handsome customer doesn’t phase you, but the man standing at your order window makes your stomach swoop for just a second.

“Morning,” you say, summoning your smile. “Hold on a sec, let me just –”

You lean out the window and wedge the piece of cardboard against the napkin holder on the ledge.

The man’s gaze drops to read. You take the opportunity to look at him.

He’s tall and broad – if you had to guess, you’d say he works on one of the farms around here. He’s tan, dark hair threaded through with grey. His arms are crossed and you wish he wasn’t wearing a jacket so you could see his forearms. His denim shirt is undone at the top and you fixate on the chorded column of his throat, on the teasing glimpse of chest hair underneath.

The guy looks tired.

Bone-tired, the kind of exhaustion you see when you look in the mirror. It comes from hundreds of early mornings and late nights, from hours on your feet and plenty of worry. He’s got lines at the corners of his eyes and a few around his mouth and you find yourself hoping they’re from laughter.

“No espresso,” he reads, slow and unhurried. His drawl fits in with most of the folks around here, but you’re sure you haven’t seen him before. You’d remember.

“Hope that doesn't scare you off,” you say. “Still got everything else.”

“Everything else being…” He glances at the chalkboard that serves as your menu.

DRIP COFFEE. LATTE. CAPPUCCINO. TEA. HOT CHOCOLATE. All written in your blocky hand in white paint.

“Three options.”

Trial and error have taught you that simple works best. You’ll make anything people ask for, so long as you know how and have the supplies, and if they’re nice about it you won’t charge too much extra.

“Can I get you one of those three options?”

You’re not trying to rush him, but the next wave of people is bound to show up any minute.

“Black coffee will do,” he says. His mouth tugs up at the corner into a smirk that makes your face feel hot. “If you have that.”

“Thank you for taking pity on me,” you say, going for teasing and missing the mark by a mile. You just sound tired and genuine. “You just made my morning.”

He looks amused and you turn from him, unable to hide your grin. You pour a steaming cup and snap the lid on.

“Pretty shit morning if this is makin’ it,” he drawls.

You hand him the cup and your fingers brush.

“You have no idea.”

He eyes the sign again and then your stained apron. “I got some notion.” He tugs his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out a $5 bill. “Keep the change,” he says.

You want to refuse, to thank him, but a few more cars pull up and Mr. Black Coffee just raises his cup to you and heads back to his truck.

Well, shit. You hope he comes back. A tipper like that, and hot? You sure wouldn’t mind if he became a regular customer. __

You call Tess that afternoon and she does know a guy, so the espresso machine gets fixed and things go back to normal. Your part-time help returns in the morning and nothing else breaks.

Today is uncharacteristically warm for the season. The inside of The Zone is almost stifling, always at least 15 degrees warmer than outside, and you keep wiping your sweaty hands on your apron as you make espresso after espresso for the lunch crowd.

Cat, a spunky girl who likes to practice her latte art when it’s slow, takes orders at the register. You keep half of your attention on her and half on the four drinks you’re working on.

“Black coffee, please,” someone says to her. Someone whose voice you recognize.

“Can I get a name for that?” Cat asks. It’s busy enough that calling names is easier than calling orders, no matter how small your menu is.

“Joel,” he says. You let the milk steam on its own and pour the black coffee before Cat can do it.

“I’ve got it,” you tell her. “Can you finish up those drinks?”

She shrugs and you swap places. You know you’re sweaty and coffee-stained but you smile at him and hand over his coffee.

“Hot coffee on a day like this?” you tease. He – Joel – is sweaty, too. The collar of his work shirt is dark with sweat and his hair is a mess. He must be here on his lunch break. He takes the cup from you and slurps a long sip as a reply to your question.

You laugh. Joel looks pleased.

“Operatin’ a full menu, I see,” he says, pulling out another $5. “Glad you got it fixed.”

“It’s still a piece of junk,” you shrug. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

He waves off your offer of change and raises his cup at you, taking a few steps backward towards his truck.

“Thank you,” he says. He eyes the tag on your chest and tacks your name on at the end. It sounds good from his mouth.

“Bye, Joel,” you say. His lips twitch but you barely have time to think about it before you have to take the next few orders.

The line dies down and you step away from the register to help Cat with some cappuccinos – your least favorite drink by far due to all the damn foam they require – and she eyes you.

“Dude,” Cat says. “What the hell was that?”

If it wasn’t already a billion degrees in here you know your face would feel hot.

“What the hell was what?”

She can’t reply for a few seconds while you grind beans for some espresso.

“I didn’t even know you knew how to flirt,” she muses, tapping a frother full of milk a few times. “That was pretty bad flirting if you ask me –”

You turn the grinder on again to drown her out.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you yell. She rolls her eyes at you until you turn off the machine.

You tamp down the grounds and slot them into the machine.

“I mean, not my type at all, for like, so many reasons,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Way too old for me, for one. Man, for another. But I see the appeal, I guess. Seems like he likes you. And was that a five-dollar bill? Black coffee is two bucks, last time I checked –”

“Can we get back to steaming milk, please?” you snap, more embarrassed than mad. “I am not taking flirting advice from a teenager.”

“I’m twenty!” she sputters. “Wait, so you admit that you like him?”

“Milk.”

Cat is right, though, and you know it. You just don’t see any harm in having a crush on some guy who comes to your coffee shop. Running this place means you see hundreds of people every day. You know their names, you ask them about their kids and their pets and their jobs, and you smile at them even on your bad days. It’s just part of the job. The daily interactions keep you afloat, make you feel more solid in your own life. People see you, they recognize you, they know you – even if it’s just because you make them coffee.

Maybe Joel will keep coming back. Maybe he’ll become one of the regulars you know things about.

And if you have a crush on him?

No harm done. He’s nice to look at.

And he tips well.

Joel stops by again.

And again.

He comes in every morning – sometimes at lunch – and orders the same thing. You learn the rumble of his truck by ear alone, the crunch of his boots on the gravel. Sometimes people in line say hi to him and a smile works its way onto your face on instinct when his voice reaches your ear. It’s never slow enough to have a proper conversation but he smiles at you, tells you he likes the flowers, your new apron.

All of it is flirting but maybe not flirting.

Maybe he’s just being polite.

Also, he keeps overpaying.

One day, almost a month since you first saw him, he doesn’t come in the morning. When you don’t see him in line at lunch, either, you’re a little disappointed. The weather is perfect – not too hot, not too cold, the sun shining – and you want to see him in the sunlight.

The day crowd is long gone and you’re only an hour or two from closing when his truck pulls up.

“I was getting worried,” you call as he walks over. Usually, he’s got some kind of dust or paint or something on them – Joel is a contractor, you’ve learned through your brief encounters, not a farmer – but today his clothes are clean and un-ripped.

“I’m honored,” he says.

You have his cup ready by the time he reaches the window.

“I’m just surprised you can get through the day without a cup of coffee.”

He snorts and hands you his cash.

“I can’t,” he says. “Had shitty home brew this morning.”

He takes a sip of your coffee and sighs. Your heart picks up and you don’t hide your grin.

“What’s with the schedule change?” you ask.

He smirks. “Miss me?”

You scoff and cross your arms. Heat rises in your chest and you feel almost giddy.

“Just curious,” you say. “Don’t let it go to your head, but you’re my favorite customer.”

Joel laughs and scratches the back of his neck.

“Reckon that’s the tip.”

“Actually, ordering a cup of black coffee is the way to any barista’s heart.”

Joel’s eyebrows climb up his forehead.

“Ah,” he says. He takes another sip, his eyes dancing with mirth. “‘Course.”

“Nah,” you say with a teasing smile. “I’d never be so shallow.”

There’s no line behind him but you expect him to go back to his truck, anyway. But here he is. Talking to you.

You grab a rag and wipe down the counter to keep your hands busy.

“I’m, uh. Meetin’ one of my kids here,” Joel says. The sudden shyness that accompanies his admission is a surprise.

Your eyes dart to his hand but you see no ring, nor the pale shadow of one.

“Both of ‘em moved to the city recently. Ellie – she’s comin’ up for the night.”

“I’ll bet you miss them,” you offer. You’re not sure why he’d want to bring his daughter to your coffee shack, but you’re not complaining.

Joel smiles at you. It’s a sad smile but still a good one. The affection in his eyes is raw.

“Sure do,” he says. He tucks one hand in his pocket and takes another sip of his coffee. “But it’s good for them. Sarah – she’s a little older – is in school and Ellie is workin’ on her music and whatever else she’s into these days.” The pride in his voice is clear.

“Well, I’m honored you want to bring her here.” You gesture to your slightly sad sitting area and the empty lot behind him.

Joel looks ready to argue with you when a faded, older version of his truck pulls up. Music leaks from the open windows and the driver bops her head to the beat a few times before shutting it off and hoping out, thumbs flying on the screen of her phone.

“That’ll be her,” he says drily. “Hey, kiddo.”

Ellie looks up from her hands, tucks her phone in her back pocket, and grins at Joel.

She doesn’t look a thing like him, but the connection is obvious. She moves like him, her shoulders set like she’s ready for a challenge at any moment. Joel sets his coffee down at the window and meets her halfway for a hug.

You look away and busy yourself with restocking whatever you can get your hands on.

“Dude, you come here every day?” Ellie asks. “Joel, this is so far from –”

Joel talks over her.

“Drive go okay? Sarah said they’re doin’ shit on the 35 –”

Ellie huffs.

“Yeah, yeah, some traffic getting out of the city ‘cause of the fucking lane closure, but otherwise fine.”

“Good.”

You turn to face them, a genuine smile firmly in place.

“Hi,” you say. Joel picks up his coffee again, which Ellie eyes with a scowl. You introduce yourself to her. “You’re Ellie, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Ellie frowns. Behind her, Joel’s mouth twitches but he says nothing. It’s a lie, obviously, but something tells you he doesn’t mind and she believes it.

“Really?” She throws him a glare and then rolls her eyes. “You gotta stop telling strangers about me, man.”

“Someone’s gotta warn ‘em,” he says.

She laughs. “Hey, fuck you!”

“Only good stuff,” you say. You like her. “Joel says you’re working on your music?”

Ellie’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “I’ve got an audition next week.” She turns to Joel. “I brought my guitar ‘cause I have a fuck ton of songs to play for you.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder and she settles a little.

“I bet they’re real good.”

Ellie flushes and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. You have to hear them first.”

You feel a little off-balance again, like you’re on the fringes of something you shouldn’t be seeing. The love on Joel’s face is clear as day.

“Do you want some coffee?” you ask her.

Joel winces. Ellie gags.

“No offense,” she starts, eyes darting between you and Joel. “I know Joel is fifty percent coffee on a good day, but it’s not my thing.” She looks at the menu and narrows her eyes. “I had a mocha the other day and didn’t hate it. Do you make those?”

“Look at that,” Joel says. “You’re convertin’.”

“Am not,” Ellie says. “It’s got chocolate in it, dude. No shit, I like it.”

“Yeah, give me a few minutes,” you laugh. “I’ll put lots of chocolate in it.”

They sit at one of your tables and you hear their laughter in the background as you make her drink.

It’s strange to see Joel like this – to build up on the man you’ve imagined him to be in your mind. Father never occurred to you. It makes sense, though, like a missing piece of him slotted into place. But it also makes the crush feel a little more real. Now that he’s more than your favorite regular customer. Now that you know a piece of him, of who he really is.

It makes you want to know more.

You finish her drink and call Ellie’s name. They both stand and Joel digs in his wallet again.

“Don’t you dare pay me, Joel,” you say. You direct your next words at Ellie. “Really. I’m just honored you stopped by.”

She eyes Joel and he eyes her right back with the same look. She must have learned it from him.

“Yeah,” she says. “Me too.” She grins at you with all of her teeth. “Joel loves this place. Talks about it all the time.”

She takes a sip of her mocha and her eyes go wide.

“Wait, this is fucking good. Man, I see why you drive –”

Joel clears his throat.

“We’re off,” he says. “Thank you, as always.” He sounds softer than usual as if being nice to his daughter is the best thing you could do for him.

You suppose it is.

“You’re welcome, as always.”

Ellie knocks her shoulder with Joel’s as they head back to their trucks. She must be whispering something to him because he swats her away with a groan and she cackles.

They both wave at you as they drive away.

Joel keeps coming in the mornings, and your conversations return to their fleeting cadence. Even so, it’s hard to deny that your crush on him has kicked into high gear.

You try not to let your gaze linger on his lips, on his throat. On his hands when he takes the cup from you, how your skin brushes and it makes you warm all over. You think about how he laughed, how relaxed he was around Ellie. You want to know what he’s like outside of your small daily interaction. You want to know what he eats for dinner, how he spends his weekends, what he listens to on the radio.

You want him.

Business is busy, which helps. A kid from a few towns over – Jesse, he’s called – signs on to work part-time, mostly for the second half of the day. He’s been a barista before so the training is minimal, but it still changes the flow of things. He’s a charming guy and the regulars take to him easy enough.

It’s you who is distracted.

One morning, Joel comes in as expected. Jesse is working, too, trying to clock some extra hours this week.

Joel is on the phone in line, his attention somewhere else. He’s frowning, a deep crease between his brows as he waits in line. All it would take to smooth it away is the press of your thumb.

You try not to stare and probably fail, but manage to take and make the orders ahead of him without making any mistakes, though your whole body feels alight.

He hangs up right as he gets to the window and sighs, giving you a tired smile.

“Howdy,” he says. You set his coffee down in front of him and he pulls out a ten-dollar bill instead of a five.

“Joel –” you say, but he interrupts you.

“My brother called and said he needs breakfast,” Joel grumbles. “Y’got any of Tess’s bear claws?”

Right, they work together, you remember. He’s mentioned Tommy in passing.

“I think so, just hold on a sec.”

“Take your time,” Joel says. It sounds like he means it, even though there’s a line behind him and he probably needs to get to work.

You do find a few bear claws in the box Tess gave you early this morning when you stopped by the bakery.

“You’re in luck,” you say, putting it in a paper bag. “Well, Tommy is.”

“Savin’ my ass,” he tells you when you hand it to him. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

The word sends a jolt of lightning through your whole body. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s said it but your world shifts slightly on its axis. Sweetheart.

He turns on his heel before you can give him change for his cash, his phone ringing.

“Jesus, Tommy, I said I’d –”

You let him fade into the distance and smile at your next customer.

“How can I help you?”

A few orders later you end up next to Jesse making some lattes.

“Was that Joel Miller?” Jesse asks. “Before. The guy with the black coffee and bear claw?”

You startle. “Um. It was. How do you –”

“I didn’t know he was a customer here,” Jesse says. “Does he come in a lot?”

You unpack a few more cinnamon buns that Tess gave you this morning. “Yeah, every day.”

“Damn,” he says. “He must really like your coffee.”

“Are you trying to say it’s bad coffee, Jesse?”

He huffs a laugh. “No, boss, ‘course not.” He grinds beans for a few seconds but continues once he’s done, steady hands tamping down the results. “I just know he lives like, a half-hour away. And that there are plenty of coffee shops there, too.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know him, Jesse?”

“His daughter, Ellie, is a friend of mine,” he shrugs. “Went over to their house plenty of times in high school.”

“Well. He’s a contractor, right? I bet he has a job out here.”

Jesse clips the espresso into the machine and starts on some milk.

“I’m not saying he doesn’t,” he muses. “I am saying that it takes at least 30 minutes to get here from where he lives.”

It’s silly. You’re half-flattered, half-confused. Yeah, you like Joel, and yeah, you’re pretty sure you’ve been flirting every day for over a month. But you figure it’s convenient for him. Coffee and an ego boost all in one.

But if he’s going out of his way to come to The Zone? Well, maybe it’s not just for the coffee.

“Your coffee is good,” Jesse stresses, seeing the gears in your mind turning. It looks like he’s trying to hide a grin. You need to stop hiring young people who have keen eyes and big mouths.

“I think the ice needs a refill,” you say, snapping back into focus.

“He might be here for something else, too -”

“Go refill the ice.”

He throws up his hands with a smirk. “I’m going!”

7:24 am. You’re on your own again and you’re fucked.

The espresso machine is working perfectly and the early rush has ended. The weather is beyond shitty. Rain falls in sheets and the sky is so dark it feels like the sun didn’t bother to rise. It pounds on the roof and blows in the window every time you open it. The awning does nothing to shield customers as they shout their orders over the wind at you. Your fingers are going numb and your front is damp enough to set your teeth chattering.

Joel’s truck pulls up and – well. You’re fucked. And he’s why.

You’re fucked because you can’t stop thinking about him. You can’t stop thinking about what Jesse said. What Joel said. Sweetheart.

A harmless crush turned into something more intense, something heavy in your stomach. You want him earnestly, fully, with every piece of you.

And you still barely know him. But you want to.

Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the fact that you’re damp and cold and frustrated with your own heart and brain. But you see his truck and you decide to do something about this stupid crush.

You write your phone number on a cup with steady hands and set it aside for Joel. You scrawl on it as neatly as you can: Want to get a drink somewhere else sometime?

It’s a bit of a coward’s way out. You should just ask him, say how you feel to his face. He’d probably like that better, anyway. But, well, this just feels safer. He could ignore it, he could throw it out, he could see it and decide to never come back.

Sweetheart.

Somehow you don’t think he’ll do any of those.

The rain lashes against the window so hard you don’t open it until you see the lonely figure approach. The morning rush has been a morning trickle, a few brave souls venturing out for something from you.

Joel, it seems, is one.

You open the window and are greeted with a spray of mist.

“Gimme a sec,” you tell him. It’s so windy he leans in close to hear you. He’s wearing a jacket that’s ill-suited for the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead. Your fingers twitch with the need to brush it back.

You quickly fill the cup you’ve set aside and pass it to him with two hands so it doesn’t blow over.

“Brave of you,” you say. He’s in the rain and you’re both getting soaked but you want to talk to him desperately. It’s a buzzing need at the front of your brain. “Thought the weather would get you, too.”

“Told you,” he all but yells over the wind with a flash of white teeth. “Shitty coffee at home.”

“Drive safe, Joel,” you tell him. He nods at you and jogs back to the truck, cup in hand. You won’t be able to see if he reads it from here, but you hope so. All you have to do is wait.

And wait.

The rain stops.

You’re still waiting, phone silent.

Sunshine peeks through the clouds with a slightly surreal post-storm glow. A few more folks have made their way to The Zone but today has been slow. The clock ticks slowly towards 3 pm and your phone does not ring.

“Don’t be stupid,” you mutter. “He’s working.”

You step out of the shack and into the slightly humid air, the gravel under your feet shifting wetly. The tables you’d set out this morning are, mercifully, still there, though they’re spattered with rain. You might as well close up now.

You’re bent over the last of the chairs, wiping them down with an old rag. You’re focused, so much so that you don’t pay much attention to the hum of an engine and the crunch of tires behind you.

A door slams but you don’t turn around.

“Sorry,” you call over your shoulder. “We just closed.”

“Shame,” he says.

You whip around and find Joel, hands in his pockets. He’s in a different shirt than this morning and his jeans don’t look soaked. You’re still damp, water stains on your pants and shirt.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi, Joel.”

He smirks. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of that window,” he says, before jutting his chin towards the tables. “Can I help?”

You’re very aware of your whole body all at once. He’s looking at you, drinking you in like you’re his morning cup of coffee.

“Uh, sure,” you say. You want to ask why he’s here but the words won’t come. “They go in there, in the little closet on the right.” You point to the open door to the shack.

He dips his chin low just once and then crosses the distance between you in three big strides. He grabs the chair closest to you. The t-shirt he’s wearing shows his arms and you feel what he’s just said – it’s weird to be in the same space like this. You’re outside but he feels so big.

Joel’s arms flex and you swallow, following him with another chair. He stacks his in the right place and holds a hand out for yours.

“What did you write on it?” he asks, casually.

The words don’t totally register. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. His arms are crossed, brow furrowed. Your mouth goes dry.

“On my cup. This mornin’.” He keeps his gaze on yours and for some reason, you can’t look away.

“Oh – you, you didn’t see?”

He shakes his head. “Was rainin’, remember? Got smudged before I got in my truck.”

“Right.”

You tear yourself away and leave him standing there. Maybe you should just lie.

But then you think about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when you make him laugh, and how he asks you how you are and how he brought his daughter here and how he tips and how he drives all this way for your – for you.

Joel waits, his footsteps the only indication he’s followed you.

You turn around.

“I wrote my phone number,” you say. “And I asked you on a date.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up and you think he’s…blushing?

He rubs a hand over his beard and you hope he’s hiding a smile. Your heart is in your throat, beating so loud you worry that he can hear it. All of your bravado sinks into the damp ground at your feet. Maybe you’ve read this totally wrong. Maybe he’s just a nice guy, maybe your coffee is just really good and your employees are fucking with you. He’s here to let you down easy, to tell you he’s not even available, not interested, not –

“Alright,” Joel says. He walks towards you and tugs his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll take that number.”

Oh.

He hands it over and you type it in, heart jackhammering in your chest. But you watch his face, see the quirk of his mouth and his blush and it makes you brave.

“And the date?” you ask, giving it back. Your fingers brush and your heart keeps pounding but your nerves take a sharp turn away from doubt and towards excitement.

“Well, you gonna ask again?”

You both seem to have found your footing with whatever this is. The flirt in him is back full force, and he’s looking at you in that way of his. You want to know all of his expressions. There is so much to learn.

“Are you going to say yes?”

“S’why I came back,” he admits. “Figured you’d be closin’. Hoped you’d be free.”

“So you could read the cup?”

Joel takes the other two chairs and heads for the door again. You trail him. God, his arms are distracting.

“Most of it,” he says. “Couldn’t make out the last few numbers, though.”

“Well, once we’re done here, I’m free. If you wanted to go on a date with me.”

Joel turns and you’re in the small space at the same time, your chests almost pressed together. You must smell like sweat and stale coffee but you watch as Joel inhales, eyes on yours.

“I do,” he says.

It would be so easy to kiss him, a quick, chaste press of your lips to see what he tastes like.

His pupils dilate and you sway into him for a breath before you realize what you’re doing and step back outside.

You take a deep breath of fresh air. “Great.”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and you head for the tables.

“Y’know,” he says. “Ellie’s been on my ass about this.”

You laugh, high and bright. “Has she?”

“That girl ain’t capable of missin’ an opportunity to stick her nose in,” he grumbles, but it’s affectionate.

“Well, I think she’s smart,” you goad.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Reckon she is.”

Joel’s brows furrow and he takes a few quick steps into your space, so close the tips of your shoes almost touch.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi.”

“Hold still,” he says. He reaches for your face slowly, slow enough that you could pull away but you don’t. He brushes something from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Grounds.” His voice is a little hoarse.

“Thanks,” you breathe.

He smirks but the flush creeping up his neck tells you he’s not wholly unaffected. It makes you feel…it just makes you feel.

Joel Miller likes you.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” you say.

His eyes widen slightly and he leans in just a little but you slide out of his space with a grin.

“The sooner we finish up the sooner I can buy you a drink.”

Joel laughs, loud and full. “Oh, how generous of you.”

“You’re very lucky,” you say.

“I agree,” he drawls. He taps your chin with one knuckle.

His eyes sparkle and he smiles, looking luminous in the post-storm sunshine. You see a flash of a future – watching him drink coffee in a kitchen instead of through the window of The Zone. Your hands meeting over a shared table, fingers tangling, that smile directed at you in the morning light.

Giddiness rises in your throat and spills out of you in a delighted laugh of your own. Joel just grins.

“So,” he says. “Where’re you takin’ me?”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff

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rafeandonlyrafe · 6 months

Text

tipsy

words: 1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male masturbation, watching masturbation

“do you still masturbate?” you ask curiously, leaning your forehead against rafes from where you’re sitting on his lap. you’re tipsy and he’s been letting you entertain yourself with a plethora of questions, getting more and more obscure as time goes on.

“what?” rafe laughs, watching as your eyes drop to his crotch.

“i’m just curious.” you giggle, reaching your hand down to tug the hem of his shirt up a bit, revealing a peak of his abs. “since we have so much sex, i don’t know if you do it anymore.”

“if you want a demonstration, you can just ask.” rafe says, laughing as you give a very quick nod, eyes widening in fascination.

rafe laughs, pushing his hips up as he tugs his sweatpants and underwear down, his soft cock flopping out. you bite your lip in excitement, resisting the urge to take it in your own hand.

rafe grips his shaft, slowly starting to stroke, watching the excitement on your face as he hardens before your eyes.

“this is so hot.” you whisper, watching the way his thumb swipes over the head of his cock to get him the rest of the way hard. you want nothing more than to sink your mouth onto him, to taste him on your tongue, but you’re too into the smooth motions of his hand moving up and down his shaft for you to assist yet.

you move your hips so your core is over his thigh, grinding yourself against him, glad that you’re only in underwear and a big tshirt as you feel the fabric of his sweatpants, knowing you’re going to soak the material soon.

“i don’t masturbate anymore.” rafe says, taking a deep breath as he now watches your pussy, turned on by it even when hidden beneath your underwear. “not since i got to feel you. my hand doesn’t feel as good.”

“i still masturbate sometimes.” you admit with a whisper, making rafes eyes snap to yours. “what?” “when you’re at work. i masturbate every once in a while, just because you’re not there and i miss you so much.” you nudge rafes hand, noticing that it’s stopped moving. he bites his lip, beginning to move again, squeezing his cock before beginning to stroke it faster, eyes briefly fluttering closed as he imagines you, alone in your bed, missing him, hand between your legs, fingers pressing into your pussy, rubbing against your clit.

you continue grinding against him, but put your pleasure on the back burner, reaching a hand down to help rafe. you hold your palm over the head over his cock, rubbing against the tip.

“princess, let me fuck you.” rafe says, clenching his thigh and giving it a bounce, wanting you.

“no, i want to see you cum like this.” you say, taking your hand away when rafe stops his own movements. he groans and then continues to stroke himself, wanting to cum quickly so he can then reharden and get inside of you.

“you’re such a tease.” rafe says. as you continue to rub over his cock, holding back a smile as he moans.

“i want just a little taste” you say, dropping to your stomach in between his spread thighs. you lean forward and lick at his tip, collecting the smallest bit of precum that he’s leaked out.

“come on, take it all the way in your mouth.” rafe says, trying to angle his cock back towards your mouth, but you shake your head, lying your head against his thigh to get a close up view. you’re not one to admit that a dick is attractive, most of them are not, but rafes is intoxicating to you, the perfect shade of pinky tan, long and thick to fit perfectly inside you, smooth and underset by two round balls, with a pretty pink tip that makes you want to spend all day sucking on it.

“you’re really gonna make me cum like this?” rafe asks, chest heaving as he gets closer.

“yeah.” you giggle. “take your shirt off though, wanna see you cum on your stomach.”

rafe gives you an exhausted look, but you just pout at him, making him whip his shirt off. anything for you, no matter what the request.

“besides, i’m gonna lick it all up anyways.” you shrug, leaning forward to lick at his tip again, eyes following the up and down movements of his hand.

“fuck, princess.” rafe groans when you bring a hand to his balls, rubbing them gently.

“hurry up and cum so we can fuck.” you say with a drunk giggle. rafe pulls his hand away to spit on it. you take the back of his hand before he can wrap it around his cock again, adding your own spit as well.

rafe hand moves quickly the second it’s touching his skin again, and you know it’s not going to take much longer.

“want to come in your mouth, come on baby.” rafe begs, and you see his cock pulsing as he gets closer to cumming for the first time instead of feeling it inside you, either your pussy or your mouth.

“nope.” you say, popping your p. in fact, you back up a little so you can get the full effect of rafe masturbating, the way his hand strokes himself quickly, his chest panting up and down, slick with sweat, mouth ajar and tongue slightly lolled out of his mouth.

“fuck, close.” rafe warns, eyes fluttering closed despite wanting to stay on your face as he cums, thick ropes covering his own stomach, abs now dripping in white. you smile at the sight, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock as rafe stops stroking it.

you lick over his torso, lapping at the skin until he’s cleaned up completely, like he never masturbated in front of you in the first place. you pull away and rafes cock is still soft, making you frown.

“i thought we were gonna fuck.” you say, upset. “we are, just give me a minute.” rafe breaths out. “i can never get it back up as quickly when masturbating as i can when i cum from fucking you.”

“hmm.” you hum, standing up off the bed and shucking your underwear off. “i guess you’ll have to eat me out until you’re ready to go again.”

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soapskneebrace · 5 months

Text

imprimatura

muses - part one - next

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x f!Reader Word Count: 2.8k Rating: Mature (mostly Soap being Soap) Warnings: please see this post for notes about this reader character Also on Ao3.

An artist meets her muse, and a solider meets his.

He arrives early as you’re setting up for your students, in jeans and a tight t-shirt, and the first thing that crosses your mind when you lay eyes on him is Jesus, he’s fit.

You are no stranger to bodies. Hundreds of them have cycled through your studio, all shapes and sizes and colors; you think you may know every dip, every roll, every hard angle and soft curve that a human body is capable of holding. The mystique of defined muscle has long lost its novelty. Bodies are bodies, and each holds the same value as the next when subject to brush and canvas. It never matters, you teach your students, what a body looks like in the modeling chair. It only matters if they can reproduce it accurately.

Even so, when a body like this walks in, you really can’t help but take notice.

Decadent muscle, fed and worked well, round and full with hydration. It’s impossible to miss, even through his clothes; each group delineated clearly, gracefully, as if sculpted rather than built, and alive with soft, subcutaneous movement. It’s indulgent to look at, the comfortable breadth of his shoulders and chest down to that slight taper of his waist and bulk of his thick thighs. It’s a physique no hard-bodied gym rat could hope to achieve merely with extra time at the racks—a physique that is easily, harmoniously attractive in its makeup of muscle and healthy fat.

The man is also mohawked and suntanned, and his mouth rests at an angle that suggests he often smiles—as if he knows that Michelangelo would have swooned at the sight of him. He comes into your classroom, saunters over to you, and stops precisely two paces away from you.

“Sergeant John MacTavish,” he says, offering his hand. “I understand you’re the instructor?”

He has gorgeous, vivid blue eyes (pthalo and cremnitz, with a touch of hamsa). You blink several times. Fit is still rattling around your skull, and begins knocking against sergeant at the same rolling frequency as his warm Scottish brogue. You realize his hand is still outstretched and quickly take it to shake.

“Yes!” you say. His palm is tough, callused, and not soft in the slightest, but very warm. “Nice to meet you, sergeant.”

He gives a grimace. “John’s fine. Or Soap.”

“Soap?”

“Nickname, y’know.”

Neither of you have released from the handshake. Soap’s grip is firm, the kind of firm that suggests he can squeeze much, much tighter if he needs to. And if the grip isn’t any indication, the broad forearms, dusted soft with dark brown hair, certainly are.

Black lines, a sword and helmet framed in laurels, catch your notice. The ink has the soft edges of having lain in the skin for a few years. You turn his arm to see it more fully. “Oh. Nice tattoo.”

He looks at the ink as if it is entirely new to him, and then gives an easy grin. “Thanks. I’ve got a few more too. Hope they aren’t hard to draw.”

When you loosen your grip on his hand, he releases you immediately. You still feel the squeeze in your bones even as you drop your hand to your side.

“So, then, Soap,” you say, “have you ever modeled before?”

He shakes his head, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his low-slung jeans. It tugs the waistband just a bit, revealing a sliver of warm, tan skin (raw sienna, flesh ochre, naples yellow). “Should have, honestly, with how much it pays.”

“It gets very boring, very fast,” you say. “What do you plan to wear for the breaks?”

“Was I supposed to bring that m’self?”

You are unable to suppress a laugh. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and going a little sheepish—as if expecting a reprimand. You suppose it’s a valid expectation to have, in his world. You aren’t terribly familiar with the military, but you do know it’s one hell of a stickler for rules.

You also can’t help but admire the appealing pull and stretch of his bicep and deltoid, the flex of his pectoral as he lowers his arm.

“Why don’t you wait here, and I’ll go see if I can find something for you?” you suggest kindly, letting him off the hook.

“Sorry,” he says, pretty blue eyes filled with genuine apology. “I’ll remember nex’ time. Thanks.”

The expression is so hangdog that you almost want to pat his head and noise at him reassuringly, like an actual dog. You press your lips together to hide a smile, and leave the studio.

When you get back from the models’ changing room, you find Soap with one hip against the counter where you’d been organizing your supplies, one knee loose and shoulders set at a relaxed angle. You want to laugh at his easy contrapposto. He’s going to be an excellent model. You can feel it.

It looks as if he’s moving around the sticks of vine charcoal with one outstretched finger; he pulls his hand guiltily away when you reenter the studio, crossing his arms over his chest as if to hide the evidence of his snooping. It makes his pectorals bunch and round out, gathers the thickness of his biceps up into chiseled, full definition.

You lift one brow at him as you walk over.

“Never could keep my hands to m’self,” he admits, still sheepish.

“It’s alright,” you allow, smiling back. “Do you draw?”

“Used to,” he says. He looks back at the charcoal. “No time, now.”

“Are you deployed often?” you ask, taking the opportunity to look at his face.

Beauty is cheap in art, but you notice it all the same—appreciate the strong brows, the hard angle of his jaw, the dark stubble of a beard you suspect he can’t keep shaved down, and the long scar that cuts through it across his chin. The light brown of his complexion is speckled with sun exposure, and there are the faintest of creases at the corners of his eyes, which you expect will deepen into genuine, gorgeous crow’s feet as he ages.

He’s not all rugged, though. There is a soft, thick curl to his lashes, which are as dark as strong coffee or expensive chocolate, and an equal decadence to the pink, plush little swell of his bottom lip—which, in the very middle, has the smallest of divots, as if he regularly spends time biting it.

They’re traits that are far too sweet to belong on an otherwise masculine face, and their effect is such that they turn an objectively average set of features into a shockingly attractive portrait—that suddenly has something fluttering, just a bit, in the roof of your stomach.

He looks at you, and catches your survey. You can see him realize you’d been watching, the knowledge of it blooming in ocean blue eyes like ink dropped onto linen.

“More often than no’,” he answers, showing teeth in a crooked, interested grin. And now he’s looking at you—attention flitting across your face, dropping down your body and jumping back up to meet your gaze. The creases deepen at the corners of his eyes.

The fluttering intensifies. The sudden role reversal has you feeling at once flustered and unmoored. You are never the subject of any perusal—always comfortably the observer.

“Well—” you try, and you’re embarrassed at the low tone of your voice. You clear your throat. “Well, let’s make use of the time we have you, then.”

His smile remains, cocksure and easy. “Let’s.”

He knows the effect he’s had.

“Anyway,” you say, blinking several times and proffering the sheet you’d retrieved, “none of the other models are your size, so I’m afraid this will have to do.”

He takes it in his hands, which are sun-dark and striking against the clean white linen. “So it’s a toga, then?” he asks.

“Whatever you like. Let’s go over the basics, and then you can undress.”

“Oh, already, aye? Y’move fast, hen,” he drawls, still grinning. “I like it.”

Heat rushes to your face, but you don’t feel embarrassed enough not to laugh. You busy yourself with tapping your charcoal sticks back in place, putting them back in an even row ascending in order of length, and saving yourself from having to look him in the eye. “Ha! We don’t do a lot of foreplay in this studio, I’m afraid.”

“No?” Soap hums, and he steps closer. He’s very warm, enough that you can feel it even with the space between you. You do have to look at him then. His eyes are half-lidded, lashes casting pretty shadows on his cheekbones as he gazes down at you. “That’s a shame. I’m right partial to it.”

Your brows lift, and you will your pulse to remain steady even as you inhale, catching a thread of—cologne? Aftershave? Just plain deodorant?—coming off of him. The scent caresses you, almost beckoning you to lean forward. You swear you can see the thrum of his heartbeat, there in the soft hollows by his Adam’s apple.

You blink. He is your model. “Well—I’ll try to set you up as best I can, anyway. Follow me, please.”

And you turn your back on him, because this is your workplace, and you are at work, and if you don’t get on with things you might do something stupid like actually flirt back.

Soap hadn’t been sure what to expect when he arrived at the art studio. He’s never been to one before, much less one housed in a university—which he has also never been to—and hell, he only ever took one art class in high school.

If pressed, he’d have imagined old brick walls covered in diagram posters, shelves of supplies in all colors, the smell of paint hanging permanently in the air. What he finds instead is modern, clean, and impersonal. Stage lights hang from fixtures in the ceiling, pointing at a platform in the back center of the room. A tight line of easels, all folded up, stand pressed into a far corner, next to a tower of stacked chairs, and waist-high cabinets line half the room against the bare, painted cinder block wall. The linoleum floor looks new.

None of this, however, has any opportunity to disappoint him. His final unmet expectation, standing across the room and organizing a tray of art supplies, is a very welcome surprise.

You’re bonnie. Like, every point on his wishlist bonnie. Christ, he must’ve done something really good lately, because he can’t imagine just lucking into this. There’s not a hard angle to you, all sweet and soft, but when you meet his gaze during introductions there’s a sharpness to you that skewers him through the chest. You are much smarter than him, he can tell immediately.

He’s always had a thing for smart women. Soft ones, too. And if that weren’t enough, you let him flirt shamelessly with you, while checking him out the whole time.

Steaming Jesus.

You direct him to get onto the platform and sit down, still clothed, in an armchair draped in another pristine white sheet. The stage lights are bright overhead, and they highlight free-floating wisps of your hair in gold.

“You want to ensure that you don’t rest your weight on only one or two points,” you explain. You have a nice voice. Steady, confident—this is your territory, your studio, and in it you are clearly the master. “The main danger is that your arms or legs might fall asleep, and you won’t realize it until you get up, in which case you’ll fall. We can’t touch you, so we can’t save you from that.”

“Y’canna touch me?” Soap repeats.

“Not without your explicit consent,” you say.

He smiles at you, the kind of smile he saves for bright nights at the pub over platoons of shot glasses. “I explicitly consent to you touching me.”

The corners of your mouth tug upward, just a bit, and you look away, clearly bashful. Something in Soap’s chest starts beating a drum. He knows already he’ll ask you to drinks after the class ends tonight.

“I doubt I’d be able to do much,” you say, “you’re a bit more substantial than the usual models.” Your eyes flick down his torso and back up.

“Guess I’ll have to follow your advice, then,” he says.

“You should,” you say, and he looks at your thigh shamelessly as you pat it—even beneath your jeans, he can see the ripple of the impact. “One of the worst-case scenarios is nerve damage.”

“So you have done this before!”

He can’t help it—Soap’s imagination runs wild. Titanic, draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls wild. It’s not exactly polite to imagine a teacher naked while she’s in the middle of giving him directions (and Jesus, what a concept, he might be half-mast already), but Soap has always found that people like it when he’s a little rude.

You drum your fingers. “I have.”

He finally hears the nerve damage part of your instruction. “How, uh—how bad can it get?”

The drumming stops. “For me? It just starts to twinge a bit if I sit on this side very long. So don’t rest your weight all on one hip, yeah?”

Concern assuaged that he had not ignored your genuine pain in order to objectify you, Soap grins. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you say. “Also—even if it doesn’t hurt, Soap, you can stop at any time, okay?”

That has him blinking. “Kinda defeats the purpose, doesnae?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter. This is your first time modeling. You don’t know how you’ll feel, sitting here with your clothes off and everyone looking at you. If you need to stop, I want you to stop. I’ll make sure you’re paid anyway, so don’t worry about that.”

You are…so serious about this. The line of your brows is furrowed, imploring, like a little discomfort on his part is a violation of the highest order.

“Sure,” he says, a little dumbstruck and mostly lying. He’d be a rubbish soldier if he tapped out of a little thing like sitting down, but it’s nice that you care.

You purse your lips, nod, and then move onto the task at hand, stepping back and then down off the platform. When you begin to survey him—gaze flitting up and down his body, more pensive than appreciative—he has to resist the urge to flex.

Instead he watches you as you look at him. He especially likes, he decides, the slope of your nose and the smart, serious press of your mouth. You could get him all turned around, he thinks, if you gave it half a try.

Your tits are also great, but that’s by the by.

“Try resting your elbow up a little higher, and twist at the hips a bit,” you instruct, and Soap obeys. “Hm. How would you feel about crossing your ankles?”

You continue like this—nudging him in directions he doesn’t think make all that much of a difference, standing in different positions around the room to check the angles. He half-wishes he could step out of his body and join you, curious as he is about what you’re seeing, what your students will see. He’s not sure he has any clear expectations for how the class will go, but if you’re any indication, it’ll be more fun than he expects.

“Not sure if I’ll remember how to get back into this,” he says, partly to be helpful and partly to get you to talk to him again.

“I’ll help you, don’t worry,” you say. “Okay, I think that’s a good one, you can move now—I’m going to start setting up, the students should be here any minute.”

He stands, and you turn away to collect your supplies, so Soap figures this means it’s time for him to strip. He pulls off his shirt and drapes it over the chair’s arm, unbuttons his pants and shoves them down to his knees.

“Soap!”

He freezes. Then he looks at you. You’re blushing again, deep and saturated, mouth parted in surprise and hand pressed to your chest. He does not miss the quick flick of your gaze down his body; he’s probably violated some rule or another of the studio, but he can’t help but grin.

You’re adorable.

“Gotta happen eventually, right?” he says.

You cover your face with your palm. “I was going to leave the room first!”

“First time someone’s wanted to run away when I’m takin’ my clothes off, I won’t lie—”

“You just come get me when you’re done!” you say hastily as you beeline for the door. “I’ll be right outside!”

Soap chuckles a little when you’re gone, the door slamming mortified behind you, and folds his clothes up behind the armchair he’ll be sitting in. You’re so cute. He can’t wait to sit naked for you for the next three hours.

And he’s definitely asking you out for drinks.

Author's Note: THE PROMISED FIC. I really hope y'all enjoy this one, I've been teasing it since March and I have so many plans. This fic has a special place in my heart because it's drawing heavily from my college days--my bachelor's degree is in fine arts, and I have a lot of fond memories of many hours in the studio both as a student and as a model.

I expect this series will also have a looser timeline than my Neighbors series, so I'm open to suggestion in terms of scene ideas! I already have plenty, but if I know my mutuals, y'all might have some good ones as well. No promises I'll write them, but you never know.

Thanks everyone for your patience, and I hope you'll look forward to where this fic goes!!

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sanjisblackasswife · 2 years

Text

OP Men When You Randomly Grab Their Tiddy (Black Fem Reader)

A/N: Tysm for 30 Followers and 500 likes within 3 days omg.

Ft. Ace, Zoro, Law, Shanks, Sanji, & Luffy

CW: Chaos and groping

No because why haven’t any woman groped this man yet

Just slinging that and his fourth sword around like it’s nobody’s business

When Zoro first started dating you you actually made it a goal to squeeze one of his breast. Ofc when you told him he shrugged it off because you always stay weird stupid things about his body

He truly believes Sanji has rubbed off on you

“Lemme squeeze em”

“NO!”

“Okay let me squeeze one.”

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!”

You both were taking your afternoon nap, Zoro was laying sideways on your lap shirtless as usual. And you actually woke up earlier than him this time.

“Zo?” You shook his shoulder as his back was facing you, he just grumbled something about leaving him alone and adjusted himself to now face you, arms wrapped around, and buried himself in your tummy. “Get up I have to pee.”

“Hold it.” An immediate smack to the poor man’s ear making him shoot up in annoyance to sit on his knees. “The hell is wrong with you?!”

“I have to pee, dummy.”

“Then go pee! And come back I’m not finished sleeping.”

His words went through one ear and out the other as he was wiping his eyes in discomfort, his guard was down and you saw your chance and had to take it.

But atlas your highly skilled boyfriend was quicker than you. “Stop trying to grope me you pervert.”

“JUST—LET ME TOUCH ONE!” the feeling of needing to use the bathroom has left and now you are on top of Zoro trying to grab his chest.

“STOP IT YOU LOOK LIKE THAT PERVY COOK TRYING TO TOUCH ME!” At this point it was a slapping competition with Zoro slapping your hands away and you trying to slap his back. You had one goal in this very moment and you planned to achieve it no matter how mad he gets.

“A HA !” Your right hand managed to find an opening and reach to his scared boob. Fingers actually digging and massaging him in the process, you never realized how soft his skin was in the area despite his scar. “See…don’t it feel nice?”

Zoro’s lips are straightened and his face now turning pink on his tanned skin, he couldn’t feel more embarrassed, he wanted to look away, but the triumphant glee in your smile made him chuckle to himself.

“Pervert.” He mumbled before pulling you down to smother you in his arms.

Ace

It happened while he hugged you.

Ace wasn’t too taller than you, but enough to where your face lands right on his chest when you hug him

You damn near bite him his chest was so soft and warm pls

Come to find out he likes being squeezed on his boobies

“Hey, beautiful!” Ace laughed coming in to give you a bear hug. You knew he loved to hold you close to his warm body especially since you’re always feeling cold, the contact felt so refreshing to him.

Your face was smothered in his bare chest as you rubbed his back rocking back and fourth when you mindlessly grabbed his left tit, making him jump a little so he pushed you back.

“H-hey! What was that for?!” You May have squeezed too hard on the soft flesh because you can now see small crescents of your nail around his nipple.

“I don’t know..” you shrugged, walking back towards him to soothe his boob, but he turned earning him an offended look from you. “Oh don’t be a baby!”

“I’m not just…” he was now fully turned to face you again with his chest puffed out like a bird. “Be gentle if you’re ganna do it.”

Luffy

He finds it cute, but it threw him off KSBSJSKS

He never thought his chest was boob grab worthy

Thinks you have some type of fetishKSJSDJOS

“Lu..” You both were sitting and relaxing on the head of the Sunny waiting to find some land, Luffy was a bit hot so he had his Kimono around his waist and his hat on your head while he rested his on your shoulder. He looked up at you and smiled, “Yeah?”

“Can I um…” You wasn’t sure what it was but seeing his exposed chest forming into a pretty cleavage due to him crossing his arms gave you an itch you needed to scratch. So you started off patting his head and slowly traveled to his breasts and give it a firm squeeze that caused you to exhale out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Luffy furrowed his brows seeing you grab and squeeze him so he sat up straight allowing you to get more feel.

“Haha what are you doing?!” He chuckled seeing now both of your hands are on his chest.

“I don’t know I just really wanted to squeeze them.”

“THEM?! HAHAH! Of course you can! See look!” He actually started to flex for a second making you laugh, but quickly turned into a gasped since Luffy decided to also squeeze your boob.

“What? I wanna see what the big deal is shishishishishiii!”

Law

You have grown sick of him and his deliciously tatted titties being shown around the whole ship and you haven’t even touched em yet

The nerve of him and his slutty clothing

They were always in arms reach, but never CLOSE ENOUGH

Law knew there was something up because he always catches you staring

He just didn’t know what

Eventually he gets sick of your blank stares and ask “Why do you keep staring at me?”

“Oh um….” He was so irritated, but looking closer at his annoyed look he had a bit of pink on his cheeks. His arms were crossed once again showing his teasing cleavage and you knew..you knew he didn’t mean it, but you couldn’t take it. You also knew your next move could end horribly for you, but it was a risk you’re willing to take.

You didn’t even asked you just pushed his arms away and rubbed your hands inside his shirt .

“Wh—what are you doing?!” His back was on the wall, sword was now in the ground for the sudden touch you gave him. You really couldn’t explain why or what your motive to him was without sounding weird, but all you could muster up while fondling his tatted chest with a devious smile on your face was

“You have pretty breasts.”

Sanji

You do it to him all the time when you hug him from behind

He Moans internally feeling your soft small hands on his broad muscular chest

Absolutely the reason why he started wearing more button downs

Sometimes he hopes you squeeze his nipples too

You do

He loves his touchy girlfriend sm

“Sanjiiiiii!” You purr behind him as he cooks today’s lunch. Your arms glide down his lean back to his shoulders and now down to his button down boobies free for you to squeeze as you exhale softly down his spine. He couldn’t be more flustered trying not to bleed over the sandwiches he had laid out for everybody.

“Hello my princess!” His voice cracks a little trying to constrain himself from having another love fit while you feel his body. “Hungry?”

“Mmhmm.” Your Voice vibrates on his back inhaling his natural scent of soap, fish, cologne, and cigarettes. It’s usually a bad combination, but to you it’s couldn’t smell better. “Love you.” You give his chest one last loving squeeze, he does a small yelp in the process, but tries to cover it with a chuckle.

“I love you too.”

Shanks

You did it while straddling him and regret it ever since

Mf does it to you all the time now

He replaced all your regular shirts for v-necks and bras

He squeezes your breast at the most inappropriate times too

“SHANKS!” You yelp feeling his cold calloused hand under your bra as you talk to Ben. Your red haired captain pulls himself behind you with his fingers now rolling against your nipple trynna push out a moan from you in front of his friend.

Ben laughs seeing you slapping your boyfriend’s head holding your own tit embarrassed out of your mind because you think Shanks also pulled down your bra way lower than he should have and flashed Ben in the process.

“BUT YOU DID IT TO ME!!” Shanks laughed guarding his face from your slaps.

“I DID IT ONCE, YOU IDIOT!”

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freedomfireflies · 11 months

Text

Find Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

Harry has never slipped into his subspace before.

Until today.

Word Count: 3.5k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“God, please, Bee…please—fuck.”

You watch Harry’s eyes roll back as his hips buck up into the vibrating toy pressed against the tip of his cock. He tugs on the cuffs keeping his wrists attached to the headboard as he curses your name and you can’t help but smile proudly at his reaction.

Harry hasn’t had an orgasm in twenty-four hours.

Twenty-four long, excruciating hours.

Truthfully, you think he’s handled it like a champ.

After all, this was his idea.

And sure, when he’d suggested edging as something to check off the list, he meant edging you.

Not him.

But here you both are, twenty-four hours into a nonstop fuck-fest.

And it’s been great.

…for you.

You’ve come to learn one very important thing since you both agreed to fuck each other exclusively:

He’s so goddamn beautiful.

In every way. At every time. No matter what he’s doing, if he’s fucking, if he’s speaking, if he’s naked, if he’s asleep.

And you’ll never get over it. Never be able to look away from him when he’s coming or thrusting into you or begging you to fuck him or rolling you over his cock.

You paint pictures in your head whenever he’s not around.

Of his tan, inked skin that glistens with sweat when he overexerts himself. Of the way his chest rises and falls with desperate gasps for air. Of his curls that fall across his forehead and dance into his eyes. Of the veins in his arms strain from the use of his muscles.

Which is why you have no problem dragging this little challenge out as far as it can go.

Because Harry makes it all worth it.

“Please,” he groans beneath a forced breath, hooded eyes lifting to find you. “Please, baby…need to feel you. Gotta feel you, Bee—”

His sweet sentiment is lost underneath your own whimper, and your head falls back as you slip the glass dildo in a bit further.

You’ve found numerous ways to torture him. From taking him in your mouth (and popping off before he can come) to riding his cock slowly (and popping off before he can come).

You’ve teased him, fucked him, near tortured him with pleasure just to take it away.

But the one thing that seems to really do it for him…is watching you touch yourself just out of his reach.

You’ve already done this twice in the past day, but this is his final straw. You can tell just from the way his aggressive threats from yesterday have turned into depleted and anguished whines for mercy today.

You’ve never heard him make so many pathetic noises and it’s everything. The soundtrack you could live the rest of your life to.

And you use it to help you ease the toy in and out of your already overused cunt. Because while Harry has had zero orgasms, you have had many. Perhaps too many if the way you have to stop for Gatorade and snacks every couple of hours is any clue.

But you don’t mind. And neither does he, truthfully. He likes watching you come. Tells you this constantly. And it’s that kind of appreciation and thrill that continues to inspire your next one.

“Harry,” you whisper, lashes fluttering shut as you clench around the toy, and you hear him gasp again.

He wants that to be him. Wants it more than anything.

Which is why you aren’t giving it to him.

“Bee…” His voice is small. Airy. Almost reverent in a sense as he calls out to you. As he begs you to give him something.

The sounds of your arousal as it’s pushed in and out of you is an erotic symphony and you just about shudder as it echoes around the room.

Harry whimpers.

And it’s so pathetic and so depraved that it forces your eyes back open so you can see him.

The vibrating object against his cock is dragging him once again to the finish line. The finish line he has seen and lost a plethora of times already. It’s got to hurt at this point. In fact, you know it does. Know he’s barely holding on and your heart aches for him.

You steal a quick glance down at your phone that’s just beside you to look for two things:

The first being so that you can check the settings on the Bluetooth toy to make sure it doesn’t need adjusting.

And the second being so you can see the timer and calculate just how much time is left in this little experiment.

Five minutes.

He’s only got five minutes left before his twenty-four hours are up, and you’re so fucking glad. You’d almost argue that you need him to come more than he needs it.

Because while making yourself come (either by your fingers, or a dildo, or his cock) is nice, it’s nothing compared to coming with him. Of knowing that he was the one responsible for your pleasure.

Truth be told, you don’t think you’ll be too quick to suggest edging in the future.

You waste a couple more minutes with the glass toy, thrusting it slowly at different angles until your toes are curling and your nails are scratching into the sheets.

Poor Harry just about loses it as he sees you get closer to your release. Quietly begging you to let him feel you come. To have you ride his cock like earlier as you clench down on him. It’s his favorite thing in the world and you pout when you hear his request.

Three minutes.

You pull the dildo out and you both watch the string of arousal that follows, with Harry writhing against the headboard, once more pulling on the handcuffs.

To tease him just a little more, you lift it up and bring it to your mouth. Your tongue drags upward, collecting everything in its path until you can wrap your lips around the tip of the toy and take it into your mouth.

Harry’s eyes squeeze shut, and he smacks his head back against the wall, almost as if in retaliation.

You grin.

After tossing the object aside, you crawl back over to his lap. He continues to keep that pretty green hidden from you as you smooth your palms up his thighs to alert him of your presence.

And not even after you’ve removed the vibrating wand and begun to straddle him does he look at you. He simply makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like a desperate whine before allowing you to take his cock in your hand.

You pump him a few times, just to feel how heavy he is, how needy. He twitches the moment he feels you, a soft sigh slipping from his lips.

And finally, once you gingerly drag him along your cunt, he looks up.

You reach out to cup his cheek, stroking your thumb across the feverish skin as you whisper, “It’s okay, Har. We’re almost done.”

He perks up, expression growing hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hum as you glance back down. “Want you to come with me.”

“Yes,” he breathes, already attempting to wiggle up and assist. “Yes, do anything.”

“Anything?” you tease, brushing your thumb down his lip. “Already done everything for me, baby.”

He seems to bask in this praise, slowly pulling your finger into his mouth until he can suck it sweetly. Mostly just to make your cheeks warm.

Which they do.

When you lower yourself down, you both cry out. You’re so overworked and overstimulated from the past few hours that it’s almost painful.

But that kind of pain feels like ecstasy right now, so you instantly get to work rolling your hips and working you both to the end.

As you do, Harry continues to fight against the restraints, another fruitless attempt at reaching for you.

This is something else you’ve learned he loves. He loves to hold you. Pretty much at any given moment, but especially when you come.

You’d asked him about it before and he said the emotional intimacy was just as orgasmic and satisfying as the physical intimacy. And you’d laughed because it hadn’t made a whole lot of sense.

But having come so many times in the past day without him holding you has felt rather…unsatisfying.

Empty.

You realize now he was exactly right.

You surge forward and kiss him, and he moans into your mouth as though you’ve given him everything he’s ever needed. As if you’ve given him air in his lungs. As if this is what he’d really wanted.

One minute.

He’s already begging you not to leave him again, saying your name over and over and over as you attempt to shush him. As you promise to be good to him and let him fill you the way he loves to do.

Your hands scratch down his chest and he hisses at the sting but seems to revel in it. You know he likes the pain.

He likes to joke that he’s gonna get your marks tattooed on his chest permanently so he can always see them. Always show them off.

And you always laugh at this but deep down, you know he just might do it.

Right now, you want him to.

You scratch until he bleeds. Until the ruby red blood trickles down his chest and stains the tips of your fingers.

Until he’s whimpering again and thrusting up into you, searching for that release.

You’re both close. Both so fucking close that you can’t see anything else but the end. You can’t see reason, can’t see how tired you are, can’t see the point.

You just see him.

The timer goes off, the startling melody blaring from your phone speaker as you both jolt.

But this seems to be the perfect jumpstart for you because the second you hear it, you begin nodding fervently as you retake his face in your hands and whisper, “Now, baby. Now. Come for me right now. Please, Harry. Please, need to feel you. Need it, Har, God—”

It’s animalistic and virile the way he cries out for you. The way it fucking rips through him like a blade, forcing you along with it.

It’s everything.

Everything you’d been missing from the previous twenty-four hours, and this is so much better than coming alone.

You kiss him through each second, arms snaking around his neck to keep your bodies close.

And you hold him. You hold him the way he can’t hold you. You hold him as you both feel it, as you bathe in the euphoric bliss, as you live.

It feels like hours before you finally come back down and find yourself again. Until you can breathe, and blink, and move.

Your face nuzzles into Harry’s neck and he presses his cheek into your hair, keeping you close.

“How do you feel?” you whisper after a moment, pressing a chaste kiss to his sweaty skin.

He hums.

Chuckling to yourself, you pull yourself back so you can see him again, and the tired, faraway look in his eye makes your pulse stutter.

You reach out to brush your fingers through the damp curls, guiding them off his forehead as he nestles into your touch. “You okay, baby?”

More humming and nodding.

Your smile widens. “My sweet boy…little out of it, hm?”

He says nothing. He only relaxes against the headboard, seemingly content to have you sweep your hands through his hair for the rest of time.

You snort. “Okay, I’m gonna go grab the key and then grab us a snack. Guess we better shower, too—”

Suddenly, he’s sitting up, eyes going wide as you begin to crawl off his lap. “Wait, where…where are you going?”

“Told you,” you call over your shoulder as you make your way for the key on the desk. “Gonna let you go and then get some food.”

He blinks, almost as if trying to process your response.

However, you simply toss him a smile and return to the bed so you can set him free.

He doesn’t watch the key turn in the lock but instead watches your face. He watches your concentration as you attempt to keep him comfortable and pull him free as quickly as you can. He watches your nose scrunch and your brows furrow when it sticks before finally clicking. And he watches you gently drop his arms down to his sides before discarding of the metal restraints.

The moment he’s got use of his hands again, he uses them to grab onto you, and wrestle you onto the bed.

You laugh as you’re scooped up against his chest and rolled over until you’re on your back and he’s tucked into your side.

Now it’s his turn to bury his face in your neck as he takes a deep breath and lets you live within his lungs.

And you don’t exactly mind.

You stay there for the next few minutes, nails now gently scratching up and down his back to soothe him as he practically purrs.

You love these moments with him.

True to form, you eventually take hold of his wrists and bring them to your mouth, kissing along the angry, pink marks painted across the skin.

He returns to watching you do this, just as mesmerized by your tenderness as he was the first time.

And you exist together. Just like this.

Eventually, fatigue begins to catch up with you, and you’ll only feel truly rested if you’re fed and showered.

So, you begin to pull yourself out of his grasp, only to have him tighten his arms as he murmurs, “No. Stay.”

You chuckle as you dip down to press a kiss to his forehead. “We need to shower, Har, and then we can come back to bed.”

“No,” he whispers, eyes squeezing shut. “No. Don’t…don’t wanna move.”

His pleas are sweet, and you almost want to coo at him, but you know you need to make him eat something and let him clean himself up. He’ll feel so much better after he has, and you want that for him.

You wrangle yourself out from between his arms and stand from the bed. “Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You practically skip to the kitchen, despite your weary muscles. You love what you two have. Love the incredible sex and the even more incredible connection.

You love him.

You’ve always loved him. As your best friend, as a partner, as a really great fuck.

He’s just…

Everything.

You make some toast and grab a glass of water before returning to the bedroom. You’ll have him take a few bites and then you’ll drag him to the bath so you both can unwind and talk.

This is another ritual of yours. After each scenario and experimentation, you devote some of the aftercare to talking about it. What worked, what didn’t. What you liked, what you’d prefer not to do again.

These are some of your favorite chats. There’s a certain vulnerability in admitting your preferences in such a way. Somehow more vulnerable than actually being naked with said person. At least for the two of you.

But he loves to hold you, your back against his chest, his fingers interlocked with yours. And you just…talk. Sometimes you’ll tease him about how good he is at something after having only done it one time.

And he’ll tease you about how you secretly love his inexperience because it makes you feel powerful.

Which it does. And you do.

So, today, you’re looking forward to having another one of these chats. You already anticipate some quippy remarks about how he’s not a fan of your methods and you can’t help smiling as you make your way for the bedroom.

When you arrive, you find that there’s something…off.

The boyish smile he usually sports after sex is nowhere to be found, instead replaced with a rather vacant, spaced-out expression.

You arrive at his side and slowly push the plate and drink toward him. “Har?”

He blinks, head rolling until he can slowly look up at you.

You feel your pulse stagger. “You okay?”

For a moment, he says nothing. Almost as if he’s running your question through in his mind.

And then…his eyes get glassy. His pretty, pink lips push into a pout, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Where did you go?” he murmurs, and instantly, your stomach drops. “You…you left. Wasn’t…I didn’t…”

You’ve never heard him speak like this. In such a desolate, forlorn way.

You place the food on the nightstand and immediately crawl back onto his lap. Your arms wrap around him and you hold onto him so tight, you’re surprised he can still breathe.

“I didn’t go,” you whisper, pressing kisses to his temple. “Promise. I’m right here.”

His large arms snake around your middle as well, fingerprints pressing indents into your sides as he squeezes just as tight.

Then, he disappears into your neck, mumbling something you don’t catch, but even still…it guts you.

You’ve never seen anyone in their subspace before. Especially not Harry. You yourself have only slipped maybe once or twice.

It’s an incredibly…intense experience. Can make you feel helpless in a sense. Completely dependent on one person, so far removed from yourself and from your consciousness that you don’t know anybody or anything else.

Truth be told, seeing Harry so…small is almost frightening. Because this need to protect him and keep him safe just about overwhelms you. You don’t want him to feel abandoned or scared or unsure.

You just…you want to keep him in your arms forever. Want to tell him that you’ll never leave him. That even if you did…you’d always come back.

“M’right here,” you tell him again, fingers stroking through the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Promise, promise, promise.”

You think he hums his contentment, but you can’t really hear him. You choose instead to believe that he’s relaxing as he loosens his grip on you and presses a kiss to your collarbone.

You lean back to see him. “Wanna take a bath with me?”

He seems intrigued with this, nodding quickly as you gingerly remove yourself from his body and help him off the bed.

Things are quiet for the next few moments. You start the water, crouching beside the tub so you can make sure the temperature is just right. And once it’s ready, you take Harry’s hand, and help him step over the ledge.

This time, he’s the one in your arms. Sitting between your legs, snuggled back against your chest.

It’s perfect.

You don’t rush to bathe him right away, instead allowing him to simply settle in your embrace as the hot water gently relaxes his muscles.

You don’t try to coax him back to you, either. You let him decide when he feels safe enough to slip out. To return to his own mind instead of yours.

But you do have to admit…you miss him. Miss the normally chatty and borderline annoying man you’ve come to tolerate.

“Har?” you murmur as you trickle some water down his chest.

He hums.

“Are you gonna let me find you soon?” you ask softly, lips ghosting the shell of his ear.

“Find me?”

“Yeah.” You drape both arms around his shoulders as your hands come to rest over his butterfly tattoo. “Wanna find you and take you to bed with me.”

The side of his mouth quirks up in a lazy smile. “Can always take me to bed with you.”

You grin, too. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His lashes flutter shut. “Don’t have to find me. M’always here.”

“…are you?”

He hums again.

You aren’t quite sure what that means but you don’t push it further. Whether he’s slipped out of his subspace or not, he’s still your Harry.

And your Harry needs all the love and attention you have to offer.

You stay in the bath for exactly twenty minutes longer before realizing you need to get him into bed before he falls asleep on you.

It’s a bit of a struggle to move him. He’s already half asleep, and very large, and very heavy.

But after wrangling him to the bedroom, you manage to tuck him in, and get him settled.

You’re not far behind. Physically and emotionally spent from the past twenty-four hours. He curls into your side once he realizes you’re there, and you fall asleep with the sounds of his soft breaths against your cheek.

Sometime in the night, you’re awoken by the feel of his thumb sweeping across your jaw. It’s gentle enough not to startle you, and you sigh sleepily as you blink the dreams from your eyes so you can see him.

He’s propped up on his arm as he stares down at you, continuing the tender caresses to your face.

“Hi,” you murmur.

“Hi,” he murmurs back. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you, I just…I wanted to see you. And I couldn’t wait until morning.”

You fight a grin as you slip your fingers around his wrist and give it a squeeze. “You’re very cute.”

“I know,” he replies teasingly, and you chuckle. “And…I wanted to thank you.”

Your head tilts. “Thank me? For what?”

He takes a moment to study you, a look of adoration on his face.

Then…he smiles.

“Finding me.”

Next Part:

~ Watch Me* (A Teach Me Extra)

Previous Part:

~ Love Me* (Pt. 5)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Dedicated to @catlover99sstuff who requested more subspace Harry quite a while ago 😭

Tags: (Since this is an extra, I have no idea if you guys want to be tagged in it, but if not, please let me know! And I will remove you promptly! But if you are okay with being on this list, then welcome back, I've missed you🥹💞)

@onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @indierockgirrl @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @xellybellyx @harrysxcarolina @reneemunson @juliatpwk @wolfmoonmusic @buckyssbestgirl @wandasbae616 @straightontilmornin @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @tiaamberxx @chubby-cheek-calum @itsmytimetoodream

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jobean12-blog · 11 months

Text

Cowboy for Keeps

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Cowboy AU)

Word Count: 3,555

Summary: You’re a city girl and you’ve just moved into the country only to be saved not once but twice but a real life cowboy, who not only looks the part but is the perfect gentleman and you fall...hard.

Author’s Note: Been thinking more and more about cowboy!Joel. And the new pics/gifs from his upcoming movie are great inspo! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of sweet and soft fluff, some flirty fun, protective Joel because a guy at the bar is a jerk- but it’s all good, Joel to the rescue!

Joel Miller Masterlist

You’re just about to pull the cash from your wallet when you feel a body close to you. Too close.

“Let me get that for ya little lady,” a man slurs, the stench coming off him a mix of booze and body odor.

You wrinkle your nose but paste on a small smile and say, “no thank you, I can pay for my own drink.”

He grabs your hand to stop you from handing the money to the bartender and you wrench it away, eyes wide with shock.

“I said I’d get it for ya,” he repeats. “’Round here we don’t let ladies as pretty as you pay for their drinks.”

“Well,” you start, standing from the bar stool. “Where I come from ladies can pay for their own damn drinks and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

The bar is suddenly quiet before it fills with the gruff mumbles and exclamations from the other patrons, mostly the men.

“Best let me buy ya the drink,” the man grits out, his face red. “Don’t wanna embarrass me now do ya’?”

“Honestly, I don’t care about embarrassing you considering I said NO thank you!”

You hold your chin high and cross your arms over your chest, only rocking back on your heels when the man stands and invades your personal space even more.

He lifts his hand and you start to stumble backward, unsure of his next move and that’s when strong arms wrap around your waist and you’re deftly moved out of the way and a large man stands protectively in between you and the drunk.

Except he’s not just a man. He’s a cowboy.

“You got a problem,” the cowboy growls, focusing his angry attention on the drunk guy, while keeping you safely behind him.

“Just tryin’ to buy the lady a drink Joel. I meant no harm,” the drunk man slurs.

“Well no means no so back the fuck off Stone,” the cowboy seethes, low and dangerous. “You know better than that.”

The man, Stone, turns redder than before and hangs his head, mumbling some kind of apology before shuffling back down the bar and sitting with a plop, his face still scrunched up in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Joel stares at him for a beat before turning around to face you.

“You alright darlin’?” he asks.

You nod, unable to speak as you look him over.

Tall, with long legs clothed in tight jeans and a patterned button down rolled up to his elbows, exposing the corded muscles of his tanned forearms, and warm brown eyes that sparkle when you notice the edges crinkling with his smile.

“Mm hmm,” you answer, letting out an exhale. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do…”

“Nothin’,” Joel finishes. “He ain’t gonna do nothin’ darlin’. Not on my watch.”

He tips the brim of his hat and then holds out his hand.

“Name’s Joel.”

You extend your own and he wraps it in his warm and calloused fingers, the contact sending a jolt of awareness down your spine.

After introducing yourself you reach for your forgotten drink from earlier and take a long sip, noting how the atmosphere of the bar is back to normal again, filled with chatter, clinking glasses, and the sound of billiard balls knocking together.

“You sure you’re ok,” he asks again, seeing the slight tremble in your hand.

“Yeah, just a bit shaken up.”

“Alright then darlin’. You just holler if you need anything.”

With that Joel dips his chin and smiles before heading back to the other end of the bar to finish his game of pool.

You turn away from him but can’t help stealing a side eye peek as he struts off, loving the way his jeans hug his ass.

As much as you try to concentrate on finishing your drink you can’t keep your eyes away from the pool tables and when Joel leans back against the wall, one hand tucked into the back of his jeans and the other clutching the cue stick you realize he’s right out of a cowboy fantasy.

It’s in the width of his shoulders, his dark hair that’s just a little wild and peeking out from under his hat, his unbuttoned shirt that’s tucked neatly into his jeans, all supported by a sleek leather belt. He carries the whole look with ease.

Before he can catch you staring you silently chastise yourself and finish off the last of your beer then hail down the bartender to close your tab and actually pay for your last drink.

“It’s already been paid for,” the bartender explains with a smirk.

Your expression morphs into one of indignation as you open your mouth to argue, once again, that you don’t need any man paying for your drinks.

“It wasn’t Stone!” the bartender quickly says, holding up his hands. “You said no.”

“So then how did it get paid for?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“Joel paid,” the bartender says.

The information catches you off guard but for some reason doesn’t bother you at all. You smile at the bartender and throw down a nice tip then turn your attention to where Joel’s standing.

You lock eyes and he grins, giving you a wink and a tip of his hat before he’s called for his next shot.

Reluctant to leave but knowing you should start driving home before it gets dark you gather your bag and see yourself out, but not without taking one last glance behind you, your breath catching in your throat when you see Joel leaning over the pool table, his legs and ass on full display.

“Shit,” you mutter before pushing the door open and stepping out of the bar.

Since you’re still new to the area you’re using your GPS everywhere you go but apparently there’s some new construction work on the main road which causes you to turn off the first street you see. You continue driving and notice the change in scenery almost immediately.

Flat land stretches out to the horizon, now glowing pink and orange with the setting sun, and large farm houses and barns, as well as fences and stables, line the road.

You contemplate pulling over to check your phone but there’s hardly any service out here.

With a sigh of frustration you continue down the quiet road but your car starts to sputter and then jerks forward several times. You panic and quickly maneuver it to the side of the road just as it stops completely.

“What the…?” you gulp.

You press on the gas and check the keys, pressing all the buttons on your dash but nothing happens. That’s when you notice your fuel tank is on E.

“Oh my god,” you cry. “This can’t be happening.”

You rest your head on the steering wheel and fight back the threat of tears through your curses. As you grab your phone and contemplate who the hell to call you hear the sound of hooves on the road and see a small cloud of dust stirring up behind a horse and rider, silhouetted by the setting sun at their backs.

Since you don’t know who it is you lock your doors and wait. The rider rounds your car and stops in front, far enough away so you can see him. He tugs the brim of his hat down to shield his eyes from the sun and leans on the horn of his saddle to look down at you with a smile.

“Joel,” you whisper, unlocking the doors.

He throws one long leg over his horse and holds the reins as he comes to your drivers side door.

You roll down the window.

“Hey there darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply sheepishly.

“What are you doin’ sittin’ here on the side of the road?”

“Well…um…you see…I sorta ranoutofgas.”

“What was that sugar?” he asks, unable to understand your last rush of words.

“I ran out of gas!” you huff, averting your eyes.

“Aw come on now, that’s nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

Despite his words you can see the grin pulling at his lips.

“Don’t you dare laugh!” you chide. “Haven’t you ever run out of gas?”

He ponders your question then looks up at his horse, Whiskey.

“Well, good ‘ole Whiskey here never runs outta gas so….”

You purse your lips to fight your own smile.

“Come on,” he says, opening your car door. “Get your things I’ll give you a lift.”

“But I live pretty far from here,” you tell him.

“That’s fine. My ranch is just a few miles down the road. I have some gas and we’ll bring it back and fill your car up.”

“Wow,” you muse. “Twice in one day.”

“What’s that darlin’?”

“You saved me twice! In one day!”

“Must be my lucky day,” he says with a wink.

You grab your things and secure your car before looking up at Whiskey.

“Ever ride a horse before?” Joel asks.

“Maybe just once or twice, but a long time ago,” you admit.

He places his boot in the stirrup of the saddle and easily mounts the horse.

“Come on’ sugar.”

You take his outstretched hand, his large fingers closing around yours in a firm grip as he helps you on to the back of his horse.

You press yourself against his back to keep from sliding off, thankful he can’t see your face when you feel his hard warmth so close.

“Hold on,” he says before he snaps the reins and Whiskey starts off at a brisk trot.

You squeal and wrap your arms around his waist, clinging to him with fistfuls of his shirt.

When you feel his abs flex with laughter you squeeze him tighter, huffing out expletives.

The ride to his ranch doesn’t take long and by the time you’re turning down the dirt path to his farm house the sun is just dipping under the horizon and the first stars are blinking into existence in the darkening sky.

“Wow,” you whisper looking up as the horse slows.

“Not used to this kind of sky?” Joel asks as he offers you help off Whiskey.

“Not really,” you tell him, still looking up. “The city lights are beautiful but they’re always too bright…”

He nods in understanding, his hand still resting on your waist.

“Can I get you anythin’ darlin’?”

You bring your eyes back to him and smile. “Yeah, I’d love a drink please.”

He pops his elbow out at you and you slip your arm through his as he leads you up the porch steps.

When you get inside he releases you and heads for the fridge.

“Lemonade, iced tea? Water?” he asks.

“Iced tea sounds great, thanks.”

He pours two glasses and guides you back out onto the porch, sitting himself down on the large swing. You sit next to him, close enough that your shoulders brush every so often.

The sky has completely darkened now and the quiet of the night surrounds you. The only sounds you hear are the chirping crickets and the creaking of the porch swing as Joel uses his foot to push you back and forth.

“So do you always ride down the road hoping to catch a damsel in distress?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

He chuckles before taking his hat off and placing it on his knee, his large hand running through his hair and tussling his already wild locks.

“Naw sugar, just enjoy my sunset rides. Nothin’ like that big open sky turning from blue to purple to orange and pink before it all sinks into blackness.”

“I bet,” you sigh, leaning your head back.

You can feel his eyes on your face and you turn his way, a tension, an attraction brewing between you and the anticipation makes you fidget, picking at your jeans.

“Why don’t you come watch the sunset with me tomorrow night?” he asks. “I know the perfect spot right here on the ranch.”

“Really?” you ask, your eyes bright. “That sounds amazing.”

He smiles warmly and stands carefully from the swing, offering his hand. You take it and stand, your arms brushing as you remain close. He places his hat back on his head and adjusts it, your eyes following his every move.

“I’m gonna grab the gas for your car then I’ll drive you back.”

“Ok.”

You watch him walk off to the barn just across from his house before stepping down from the porch and admiring your surroundings.

He returns with a large plastic fuel tank and once again gives you his arm so he can walk you to his truck. He opens your door and helps you in.

On the ride back to your car you fall into easy conversation about your life in the city before your move and he tells you more about the ranch.

Once your gas tank is full you lean against the door of your car, nibbling your bottom lip.

“I don’t know how to properly thank you Joel.”

“No thanks necessary darlin’. It was my pleasure.”

You look at each other for a moment, the moon the only light illuminating the features of your faces and you see his eyes drop to your mouth.

He clears his throat and hangs his head, his hands landing on his hips as he kicks at some unseen rock on the road.

“Well, I guess I’d better be going,” you say, even though you sound a little reluctant.

“But I’ll see you tomorrow,” you finish, the reluctance replaced with clear eagerness.

“Absolutely. Are you sure I can’t pick you up?” he asks.

“Nah. I have to learn my way around! And now that I have gas I should be fine,” you giggle.

He smirks and pulls his cell out of his back pocket.

“Give me your number,” he says. “This way if you have any trouble you can call me.”

You type in your info and hand it back, smiling when your phone buzzes with a text from him.

“Thanks again Cowboy.”

“Anytime darlin’.”

Before you can change your mind you lean forward and place a soft kiss to his cheek, his beard rough under your lips.

He grins and slips his arm behind you to pull open your car door. With that, you turn and get in, waving before you drive off.

Your trip back to Joel’s the next day is much easier with a full tank of gas and proper directions. When you make the last turn that leads out to his ranch you’re almost overwhelmed by the vibrant green of the grass and the cloudless blue of the sky that stretches unendingly in front of you.

The sky is just beginning to change color and you can’t wait to see the full beauty of a sunset over the ranch.

Joel greets you by the gate, helping you out of your car before he leads you toward the barn.

You give him a questioning look and he quickly explains with, “just had some baby pigs born.”

With a barely contained squeal you grab his arm, the excitement rushing out of you in jumbled words.

“Thought you might like to see them,” he adds, before you can even get the question out.

After visiting with the sweet babies and cuddling them as much as their mother would allow, Joel asks for your hand and ushers you away from the barn and farm house. You move deeper onto the ranch land, silent as he leads you to a small clump of bushes and you hear water.

“Where are we?’ you ask.

Joel’s quiet, his voice barely above a whisper.

“This is my favorite spot on the ranch. It’s a natural pond, fed by an underwater spring. It’s rare ‘round here, the runoff from the mountains mostly goes the other way. But this keeps the cattle well-watered and it’s a great place to cool off.”

He’s quiet again as he pulls on your hand a bit, and as you sit down, you discover a blanket already spread on the ground along the shoreline.

“Oh look at you all prepared,” you tease.

“Didn’t want ya to be sittin’ on the grass darlin’. Figured this would be more comfortable.”

You feel him scoot closer to you, your shoulders leaning against one another.

As the day draws to a close on the vast expanse of the ranch, the sun begins its gradual descent toward the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the landscape.

You lift your hand and shield your eyes from the last moments of brightness, only able to peek through you fingertips to see.

Joel shifts and then your face is enveloped in shadow when you feel him press his hat onto your head.

“Does that help?” he asks, looking at you.

“Definitely,” you answer, giving him a quick glance before turning back toward the sunset. “Thank you.”

The sky continues to transform into a masterpiece of colors, blending shades of orange, pink, and purple.

Silhouettes emerge as the light recedes, enhancing the beauty of your surroundings. The rustic wooden fences that enclose the fields take on an ethereal quality, their weathered surfaces aglow with the evening light.

As the sun finally dips below the horizon, the sky gradually transitions into deeper shades of blue and purple. The last remnants of daylight illuminate the landscape with a gentle glow, and the stars begin to appear, twinkling in the darkening sky. The ranch settles into a tranquil stillness, and you let out a contented sigh as you stare at the glimmer of the moon on the water.

“I like this. Being out here. On the surface it’s dark and quiet, but if you use all your senses, there’s so much more.”

“Tell me what you sense?” he asks as he shifts even closer.

“It’s quiet but not really. I can hear the cattle and other animals and every once in a while I see a flash of a firefly.”

You nudge his shoulder and point over the water, giggling when you see some dancing lights.

“I can even smell the grass and something else…rugged and adventurous, like earth, leather, and pine…”

You close your eyes and hear Joel swallow.

“And what about your sense of touch?” he murmurs. “What do you feel?”

Before you can answer, you feel his fingertips tracing up your arm to find the curve of your jaw and cradle it in his hand. He turns your head toward his and brushes his hat from your head.

His eyes fall to your mouth, his own just a breath away as he traces his nose across your skin. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel the pressure of his lips, gentle and delicate, before your entire body tingles with electricity and warmth.

You press yourself closer and when he feels your agreement he deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and threading his fingers through the belt loops of your jeans to pull you into his lap.

“My touch is telling me a lot of things,” you whisper against his lips before he moves to trail kisses down your neck. “All of them good. So fucking good.”

He reaches for the hem of your shirt, slipping his fingers beneath. You can feel the coarse, rough calluses on his fingertips and palms as he explores your skin, humming in appreciation.

“You’re soft as silk darlin’.”

You moan his name, gripping his shoulders as he pulls you tight against him to meet your mouth in another heated kiss.

He smiles against your lips, stroking your back with work roughened but still gentle hands.

“What did you think of that sunset?” he asks.

“Most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen.”

He keeps you in his arms and lays down, tugging you into his chest so your head rests along his shoulder.

“Show ain’t over yet darlin’. Look.”

He points a finger toward the sky and you move your eyes up, darkness stretching far and wide above you, broken up by the glitter of thousands of stars.

“Wow,” is all you manage.

He smooths his hands over your waist and you idly run your fingers over his chest, enjoying the interplay of his muscles underneath the soft cotton of his shirt.

The feeling of him is overwhelming and the heat in your body builds even as you press your thigh along his and soak in more of his warmth. You turn slightly and place your hand on his belt buckle, dipping your finger under the metal and tugging him until he’s facing you.

He props himself up on his elbow, his long legs stretched out and tangled with yours. His eyes are intense as they wander over your face and you can’t help but tempt hm as you bite your lower lip.

He leans down, meeting your lips in a kiss while his free hand finds your silky skin, caressing every inch he can reach.

Your fingers find his hair, weaving through the softness before giving it a tug so you can deepen the kiss. The sparkle of the stars is dimmed in comparison to what he does to you. In every touch of skin, every kiss, even in the way he looks at you, he makes you want more. He makes you want everything.

@sstan-hoe @pedritosdarling @blackwidownat2814 @lorilane33 @justkinsey @laineyreads @beccablogsthings

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #cowboy!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #cowboy!joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #cowboy au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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graves4girls · 8 months

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☆ let's go to bed | miguel o'hara

✮ wc. 763 ⚠︎ warning(s): fem!reader soft!miguel truther 4 life ⟡ be sure to check out my work on ao3 → gravesforgirls !!

Sliding one of his shirts he'd left behind over your pillow because you miss him. You hadn't seen him in a good few days, on account of a particularly difficult anomaly, and the best idea you can muster right now is to just fall asleep to the linger of his cologne clinging to the fabric.

You're curled up in your warm bed, tucked under the covers with the side of your face smooshed into your pillow, wallowing in the faint woody scent as you snore quietly. You don't hear the squeak of your unlatched window sliding open, but you stir when the pane closes with a sounding thud, a hushed expletive following as you slowly awaken. Your eyes wrench open to squint around the dark room, panicking for a moment when your gaze falls on the hulking figure beside your bed, clad in dark shadows, before you realize what's happening. Your face heats up a bit when you remember what your current state looks like, how pathetic it has to be.

"I didn't know you were gonna swing by tonight. A little heads-up woulda' been nice. You scared the shit out of me."

You sluggishly sit up from your mass of blankets, eyes still adjusting to the darkness as you look up at him.

"You shouldn't leave your window unlocked. That's incredibly dangerous."

"I live on the sixth floor. I doubt much could happen."

He scoffs quietly, but he has a gentle smirk on his lips. "I didn't mean to wake you up." He stalls for a second, eyes dancing across your sleepy figure. "Y'know, you're cute when you're sleeping."

"Creep."

He chortles quietly, stepping closer to the bed, but he stops, and your skin flares again when you see his gaze slide to the pillow beside you.

"Is that my shirt?"

You sputter a bit, utterly embarrassed he caught you stooping as low as that. "I know, it's weird. I just–" You trip over your words as you dig for an explanation that doesn't sound insanely desperate.

"Oye, cálmate. It's not weird. Es lindo."

He moves to sit on the mattress, reaching out a big hand to wrap around your own, thumbing over your knuckles. You sit there for a moment in comfortable silence, grinning stupidly when he raises your arm to drop a kiss to the back of your hand.

"Eres tan bonita, muñeca. C'mere, mamí."

You scoot closer to him to nestle into his side as he leans back against the headboard of the bed, slinking his arm around your waist as he looks down at you. City lights bleed into the room from your drawn curtains, painting him in soft purples and whites that wash over him perfectly, the light delicately clashing with the harsh shadows of his angular features.

"How did the mission go?" You drape a leg over his lap to get impossibly closer, letting your hand settle over his chest.

"Awry, at first, but we got him and sent him back to his universe. He was a lot bigger of a threat than any of us had thought."

You can tell just the thought of what had happened irked him, if the way he clenched his jaw was any telltale.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay. And now you can relax for a little bit. Just me and you."

That soft smile finds its way back onto his lips, and he sinks further into the bed, rolling onto his side to wrap around you like a constrictor. He's kissing you now, tender and sweet, one of his hands sliding up your spine to hold the back of your head. It's cool in your room, but he's insanely warm against you, big hands moving to clutch at your hips as your arm curls around his waist, slipping your hand under his shirt to let your fingertips run along his bare skin. He drops a kiss to the corner of your mouth, your jaw bone, one more to your throat before he nuzzles his nose into your neck, taking in a long breath and letting out a tired sigh, big shoulders relaxing as he closes his eyes, lashes tickling your skin.

"Let me sleep in tomorrow morning. I'm fucking exhausted."

One of your hands comes up to comb your fingers through his soft curls, pressing a short kiss to the top of his head. "I can tell."

His arms tighten around you to keep you from slipping out of his grasp, and his breath quiets.

"I'm gonna need that shirt back, by the way. It's one of my favorites."

#m.ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #across the spider verse

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siempre-bucky · 2 years

Text

Take Me to Bed

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader

Summary: you swore off sleeping with Navy men, not wanting to be the subject of their locker room talk. Harvard opens his mouth about you and Jake's ready to take him to an early grave.

warnings: brief mentions of smut

wc: 1.4k

a/n: soft defensive boyfriend Jake? Yess. Sorry to Harvard my baby boi

The sounds of the waves were like music tonight, or you thought they were. All you could hear was the muffled jukebox from inside and the low groans Jake emitted as his lips attacked the side of your neck. His strong hands firmly held you in place by your hips, his knee slotted in between your legs. “Jake,” you whined as he dragged his teeth over a sensitive spot.

He slowly pulled away and looked at you with lust in his dark green eyes. You loved this look, you’d never tell him or it’d go straight to his head. “Let me take you home tonight, darlin’,” he flirted, his voice low and accent thick. His tanned face was inches from yours, the mint on his lips faintly entering your airways. Still didn’t hold a candle to his cologne that was simply intoxicating.

“Jake,” you sighed as if you were scolding him like a child. He frowned, his dimples no longer in sight. “No.”

The aviator bit down on his lower lip, rejection over these past few months had been becoming easier but it still stung. “I could show you a good time,” he chuckled, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek.

Your lovesick expression faded, looking up at the sky solemnly before pushing him away. He retreated and put his hands on his hips in annoyance. “Jake we do this every time, you know I’m going to tell you no.” You lurched off the wall and started to make your way back inside the Hard Deck, thinking that you’d once again successfully managed to keep Jake out of your pants.

“You know I don’t want to just sleep with you, Y/N,” he huffed. You stopped walking as you sensed the irritation in his tone. “That’s not my intention—”

“I know,” you interrupt, turning back around to look at him standing in the golden light of the lamp. “I know what your intentions are, and uncharacteristically I actually believe you,” you pouted, looking down at the sandy floor that divided you.

This all happened months ago when you and Jake were assigned to the uranium mission. He was still the same cocky pilot from your first squadron, but somehow he became more of that southern gentleman he always claimed he was over the years. Sweet dates that ended with kisses on cheeks and late-night drives along the coast with his fingers intertwined with yours that rested in your lap. He respected your space, never pushing or questioning why you didn’t want to have sex with him—until now.

“Why won’t you let me have sex with you? Make love, fuck, or whatever you want to call it?” Jake swallowed hard, clenching his jaw so he wouldn’t lash out.

You took in a deep breath, the salt air helping calm you as you walked up to him, crossing your arms over your chest as a means of protection. “I don’t sleep with guys in the Navy,” you confessed.

“You- you what? Why?” He raised his eyebrows in confusion, cocking his head.

“The walls are extremely thin in those locker rooms, Jake. I hear all you guys talk about the girl you had in bed the previous night and the disgusting things you say about them. How they felt around your cock, what you rated their performance, judging them when you finally got their clothes off,” you spat. Jake knew you weren’t directly talking to him, in his distant past he joined in the locker room talk, but he grew up a little unlike some of the guys walking around Top Gun.

He bobbed his head as he listened, allowing you to finish. Your face had softened, your lower lip quivering as you desperately tried to remain stone-faced, “I won’t be the subject of that—I won’t- I won’t do it no matter how much I like you.”

You liked him, but you didn’t trust him, he noted. That was fair, you knew him more than most people; his reputation preceded him, it still hung over him. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, putting his hand on your shoulder and gently squeezing it. “I wouldn’t do that to you, whatever happens behind closed doors stays there,” he tried to reassure you. You looked away again, you wouldn’t succumb to the glimmering green eyes of Jake Seresin.

“I wanna believe you,” you said weakly, pulling out of his grasp.

He stood by your side, taking your hand, “Let me drive you home, kiss you on the front porch, and I’ll go to my home where I’ll fall asleep dreaming of you,” he offered charmingly, his cocky smirk returning to his handsome face. You could ignore the eyes, but you couldn’t ignore the charm.

“Take me home, Bagman.”

—

Jake tiredly sat on the wooden bench of the locker room after the day's training session, his clean t-shirt sticking to his still damp skin. He sat there with a towel over his hair, trying to get rid of the beads of water that clung to the blond ends. Fritz and Harvard were loudly talking about their time at the bar last night behind him. “Did you take that chick home?” Fritz egged on, wagging his eyebrows.

“Her ass was a solid nine out of ten, of course the fuck I did,” Harvard snickered from his locker. “Should’a seen the way she rode me.”

Jake stood up abruptly, silently walking over to his locker trying to avoid their conversation.

“Hangman,” Fritz hummed with a smirk. Jake looked at him through the reflection of the small mirror that hung on the door of his green locker, and he knew Fritz could see the annoyed look he wore. “What’s the deal with you and Circe?” He stilled at the mention of your call sign, his eyebrows beginning to furrow.

Don’t entertain him, he thought angrily to himself. He decided on shrugging as he put his dog tags around his neck.

“You fuck her yet?” Yale chimed in from the showers.

The tall man scowled, “Doesn’t matter,” he answered shortly.

Harvard smirked and sauntered over, his frame becoming closer in the mirror. “That’s a shame man, she looks like she puts out. You gotta tell us what her tits loo-”

Jake slammed the locker shut and whipped around, the room falling to a quick silence, eyes locked on the two men. The blood roared in his ears, a burning red flush rose to his cheeks. Harvard remained ‘chill’ as Hangman angrily got in his face. He understood why you didn’t want to sleep with him, he didn’t want your name mixed in with a bunch of assholes “You say one more fucking thing about her and I will put you in a grave,” he threatened lowly, the rasp in his voice sent a chill through Harvard’s spine.

“She’s just a girl man, we all talk about them. If she’s a prude you can just tell us,” he chuckled. Jake’s fist rose and sudden shouts of the men rang out. Rooster, bless him, walked out of the shower just in time to catch Jake’s wrist with the hand that wasn’t holding up his towel.

“I’ll break your fucking nose!” Jake shouted among the other voices.

“Alright! Alright! Calm the fuck down!” Rooster shouted, pushing back Harvard by his puffed-out chest.

“Jesus. Relax,” Harvard laughed, rolling his eyes at Jake.

The two men were locked in a bitter stare-down as they were separated. Jake grabbed his stuff hastily and looked at Harvard one more time, “If I hear her call sign, her name, or anything about her out of you, son, I will rip your lips off,” he warned before opening the door and exiting.

He stormed out of the room, barreling down the hallway with his sights on the doors. “Jake!” your sweet voice called, echoing through the empty hall. He turned and his stiff muscles relaxed, his lips turning up into a smile as you hurried over. You had that power over him, no matter how angry he was, you managed to make him smile.

“You’re still here, sweetheart? Thought you were already done for the day,” he smiled, eyeing you up and down in your flight suit. You stood there for a moment, looking up at him with an unreadable look on your face, your fingers fidgeting at your side.

You shook your head and lunged forward, gripping the sides of his face and pulling him down for a searing kiss that rivaled any kiss you two have had before. “Y/N-” he breathed as you pulled away.

“I heard you and Harvard,” you broke out into a wide grin, “you defended me, Hangman.” you giggled as you punched him in the arm. He winced and grabbed his bicep to protect it from your fist.

“The walls are thin,” he whispered, remembering what you had said the night before. You nodded and allowed him to wrap his arms around your waist, his duffle bag falling to the floor with a soft thud.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you marveled, trying to suppress happy giggles from escaping.

“No one talks about my girl that way, I’ll put them all in an early grave before they disrespect you,” he told you firmly, his eyes staring into yours in hopes that you would believe him, trust in him.

You ran your hands up his arms and stopped at the base of his neck, your thumbs swiping along the light-colored stubble that was growing in. “Take me to bed, Jake,” you said to him, your eyes falling to his lips. You had the rule of no Navy men for far too long… and Jake? He was the perfect person to break it with. A man that defended your honor instead of fluffing his own ego in front of his friends. You liked this Jake, maybe you loved him.

His eyes grew wide, his expression brightening as you spoke, “Really? Are you sure? Y/N, we don't have to, you don’t have to,” he wheezed.

“I mean it, Seresin,” you grinned, “don’t make me regret it.”

He kissed you swiftly before taking your hand and guiding you back towards the locker room, “Hurry and get your things, you can shower at my place,” he commanded playfully, kissing your hand before letting you go. He blushed, looking at you softly as you looked at him happily one last time before retreating behind the doors.

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin oneshot #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x fem!reader #hangman imagine #hangman oneshot #top gun #top gun maverick

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