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strang3lov3 · 11 months

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Soft Dom!Joel x Fem Reader

Summary: Joel stumbles upon your dirty mag, noticing your favorite pages bear a striking resemblance to himself! Takes place in Jackson sometime after TLOU

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI SMUT!!! This is not fluffy even a little bit, kind of pervy joel, kind of sleazy too, smut, female masturbation, cunnilingus, soft dom!joel, shy reader, consensual PIV sex, humiliation kinda, joel loves a full bush, begging, joel is dominant but not like, aggressive?? let me know if I missed any

A/N: Y’all, I am very very very proud of this one! Please enjoy this depravity. And have a lovely holiday weekend <3 I am just a few shy of 1k followers, but consider this my thank you for all of your support 😸💗

Edit: we’re at 1k!!! Thank you so much holy shit!!

If you really like this story, please leave me a comment! Check out my masterlist

Javier Peña is Joel’s pornstar doppelgänger. I don’t make the rules.

After a long day, Joel was ready to relax and enjoy a bonfire with you. It’s how you spent a lot of summer nights in Jackson, you and Joel and sometimes Ellie just sitting around the fire, sharing stories and shooting the shit.

Tonight Ellie was at Dina’s having a sleepover, leaving just you and Joel together. It was nice to spend nights alone with Joel. Sometimes you’d talk about anything and everything and other nights you’d just share a comfortable silence. After everything you went through on your way to Jackson, it was nice to enjoy some peaceful nights with Joel.

Upstairs, Joel changed into some plaid pajama pants and a slim fitting t-shirt and made his way through the hall and to the top of the staircase, his heavy footsteps alerting you of his presence.

“Joel?” you shouted to him from the kitchen. You were preparing a snack in preparation for the bonfire. “Can you grab me a hair tie please?”

You were peeling apples and slicing bread to make pudgy pies for you and Joel to share. It’s one of the campfire snacks he introduced to you and Ellie. Back before the outbreak, he said, people would use canned pie filling or peanut butter and Nutella as filling for the toasted sandwiches. Now you had to get more creative, so you opted for spiced and sugared apple slices. You preferred berries, but apples were Joel’s favorite filling for dessert. You didn’t mind. He used to make these for his daughter.

“Where can I find one?” he called back.

“On my bedside table, right by the lamp,” you stepped closer to the staircase so you didn’t have to raise your voice as much. “It should just be a plain black one.”

Joel nodded and walked to your room. At your bedside table, he didn’t see any hair ties. Just some jewelry and a comic book Ellie lent you that she wanted you to read. Perhaps it was in the drawer?

Joel opened the drawer and rummaged around your belongings. There was a bottle of your favorite almond scented lotion from the local soap maker, your journal and some pencils, but no hair tie. He should have called out to you to ask if there was another spot your hair tie might be at, but curiosity got the better of him. He knew it was wrong to snoop through your personal belongings, but he couldn’t help himself.

Joel pulled the drawer out a little further and lifted your journal up. His eyes widened at what he saw. It wasn’t your hair tie, that was for damn sure.

Under your journal was an ancient porno magazine, probably from the 70s or 80s. Joel didn’t bother checking for a date. He had to know what the hell was in this old ass magazine that you were using to get yourself off. He remembered these kinds of magazines from when he was a teenager. They were often tacky and somewhat over the top compared to the explicit videos he’d watched on the internet before the outbreak, but they did the job. Who was he to judge?

Joel sat on your bed and flipped through the pages of the magazine. There were women in frilly chiffon lingerie with bushy and unkempt pussies, just the way he liked them. That was one nice thing about the outbreak, a lot of women ditched the beauty standards of the 90s and 2000s and went au naturale. Joel loved it as a young man then and he still loves it now, decades later.

The magazine nearly flipped itself open to one particular centerfold. It was a man fucking a woman from behind, her back arched and hair covering her face. They were at the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the retro floral duvet cover. She was beautiful, but it wasn’t her who captured Joel’s attention. It was the man.

He was tall, dark, and handsome with a thick downturned mustache, not unlike Joel’s. He had dark hair and dark eyes as well. Even his nose was similar to Joels, strong and sharp with a curve. Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. The pages were worn and the corners were dog eared, leading Joel to believe that these must be your favorite pages. His ego soared, as if it needed to be any bigger. He always had a feeling that you had a thing for him.

Downstairs, you were growing irritated. “What is taking so long?” you muttered to yourself. Joel was taking forever to find the hair tie you had so neatly placed next to the lamp on your bedside table. After turning off the burner of the stove, you paced through the kitchen and up the stairs.

“You are such a man, you know? You guys are terrible at looking for things. If it was a snake it would have bit you,” you grumbled out, half talking to yourself and half talking to Joel. You opened your mouth to continue speaking as you walked into your room but froze when you saw Joel on the bed, thumbing through the pages of your dirty secret.

“I found your spank bank,” Joel taunted with sarcasm, not yet looking at you. He flipped through a couple more pages before turning to face you, his intense stare meeting your flustered expression.

You were frozen in embarrassment, completely unable to speak, unable to move. Your face felt like it was on fire and you could hear your heart pound in your ears.

Joel’s low and gravelly voice filled the silence. “Didn’t mean to embarrass ya, baby. It’s okay. Human nature,” he winked at you with a crooked smile.

You quickly stepped over to him and tried tugging the magazine out of his hands, but he held on tightly. “Joel,” you pleaded as your sweaty fingers slipped off of the paper.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided you. “This dude here kinda looks familiar, doesn’t he?” Joel looked at you with a knowing expression as humiliation filled your chest. Yeah, he looks just fucking like you. Leave me alone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joel,” you muttered angrily. You were about to burst into flames, whether from embarrassment or anger you didn’t know. You didn’t care. How dare your body put your shame and embarrassment on display? You were giving Joel exactly the kind of sick satisfaction he absolutely did not deserve.

“Oh, baby. I think you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. Look at how you’ve dog-eared these pages,” he used his pointer finger to trace the bent triangles at the corners of the pages. “Guy looks just like me, doesn’t he? Is that what you like so much about these pages?” his southern drawl had your stomach doing flips. “I know they’re your favorite, magazine practically opened right up to them.”

You ignored his question. “The pages were like that when I found the magazine,” you tried lying, but it was a futile attempt. This was bullshit. Joel was the one who was caught red handed, and yet you were bearing the brunt of the humiliating situation. Only Joel Miller could spin this situation to work out in his favor.

“Sure, sweetheart,” you reached for the magazine again, but Joel pulled it out of your reach. “You know baby, you didn’t have to fantasize with a dirty old magazine if you wanted to fuck me. All you had to do was ask.”

You said nothing, just glared at him. Joel wore a loathsome smirk as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Wish I knew this is what you were usin’ to get yourself off at night. All those pretty noises, all this time. They were all for me, weren’t they?”

Any words you could think of got caught in your throat, it felt like dry swallowing a pill. You just looked at Joel with pleading eyes, begging him to stop making you feel like a fool. If you weren’t so embarrassed, you’d be yelling at him for rifling through your private belongings and calling him presumptuous asshole for insinuating you fantasized about him. Of course, he was entirely correct in his assumption. You were completely and utterly infatuated with him. Even when you weren’t using his doppelgänger to get yourself off, you were thinking of him all day long.

“Please,” you finally choked out, feeling tears prick your eyes. You couldn’t take any more of this torture. “Just stop.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” he spoke with a soothing tone. Joel placed a hand on your thigh and twiddled his fingers along the fabric of your pajamas. “You know I’m just gonna keep buggin’ you until you tell me what I want to hear.” Joel looked at you with his sparkling brown eyes, darkened with lust. “So what do you like about these pages, baby?”

Turning your face towards your lap, you whispered your response to his prodding question. “I like the way he’s fucking her,” If that’s all it’d take to make him stop, might as well spill your guts.

“Yeah, I do too. It’s sexy, isn’t it?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, glancing at the familiar image. Joel was 100% right. Those were certainly your favorite pages. You didn’t even need them anymore, the picture was tattooed on your brain. “I like how the man looks.” you admitted with bravery.

“I bet you do. Because he looks like me, right?”

You nodded your head shyly. You couldn’t believe yourself, giving up and letting Joel win. He’d never let you live this down. But maybe if you butter him up a little he’ll let you off easier. “You’re more handsome, though,”

“Oh, baby. Gonna make me blush,” Joel replied to you with a saccharine smile. He really did seem genuinely flattered by your comment. “This is really what you look at when you’re playing with your pussy?”

“Yeah, kind of,” you say, feeling some confidence fill your chest. “I pretend it’s you fucking me like that.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm,”

“You’re such a good girl for me, baby. I like knowin’ you think of me like that,” he praises you for finally letting go of your embarrassment. He doesn’t only want to tease you. If this is what you fantasized about, he was gonna make your dreams come true.

Joel takes one of your hands in his own and moves it to your center, pressing your fingers against your core. You gasp at the feeling of your wetness on your pajama pants. “Think you can do somethin’ for me?”

“What?” you murmur.

“I want you to give me a show, baby. Show me how you touch yourself when you’re lookin’ at that magazine,” Apprehension fills your bones once again at his words. “Don’t be nervous, sweetheart. I just wanna see how pretty you look when you come. And after you do that, I’ll fuck you just like how he’s doin’. What do you say?”

“Just like, touch myself?” you laugh awkwardly at his request. This cannot be happening. Right?

Joel sets the magazine down and helps you to the top of the bed. He leans you against the pillows and kisses your lips for a second, and every time his tongue mingles with your own your anxiety melts away, little by little. This is all so surprising, maybe he does really want to make you feel good.

He kisses you gently and with care, using his lips to encourage you to let go again. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, your neck, and down your body before lifting up your pants and looking at you expectedly, asking permission to remove your clothing. You nod and he helps you out of your pajamas. It’s all so sudden and you feel exposed, all naked and laid out for Joel.

“You’re beautiful,” Joel says earnestly as he takes one of your wrists and guides your hand to your needy pussy, encouraging you to show him what you look like when you’re whimpering at the thought of him in the middle of the night. You don’t touch yourself yet, though. You cover your center with your hand, slightly embarrassed by the thick tuft of hair surrounding your vulva.

“I haven’t shaved in forever,” you say sheepishly. It’s kind of silly, worrying about body hair at the end of the world. But you can’t help it.

“That’s alright, sweetheart” Joel says as he reaches for the magazine and flips to one of the first pages he saw, a woman spread eagle with her full bush on display. She’s smiling and radiates confidence. “See? It’s a beautiful thing. It’s how they’re meant to be.”

You’re skeptical. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course I do. I love your pussy, it’s beautiful just how it is,” Joel grips your thighs and parts your legs, and your fingers gently drop to touch your dripping center. Joel reaches forward and places his hand over yours, helping you circle your clit with your middle finger. It’s slow at first and you squeeze your eyes shut, still feeling slightly awkward. Masturbating for someone else to watch is completely different from sex. You feel vulnerable, like you’re being studied under a microscope. You don’t feel that way for long, though.

Joel continues to help you circle your clit until he senses you becoming more confident, then removes his hand to watch you do your thing. Your fingers swirl around your hole as you gather your slick, then travel up again to rub your clit in those same circles he helped you create. You let out little gasps and whimpers, and it’s music to Joel’s ears. Finally, he has an image to match with the moans and other noises he hears from your room.

Usually you can get yourself off fairly quickly but with Joel in front of you, it takes a little longer. You open your eyes and peek at him. His dark and hungry eyes are focused on your center, but they flick up to your own. He smirks devilishly at you for a half second then goes back to watching your actions, almost obsessively. He is obsessed.

The sight of him pushes you closer to the edge, and he watches your pussy twitch as you finger your clit even faster. His expression changes then. He’s no longer looking at you with adoration and lust. Joel looks angry and jealous, with a furrowed brow and a scowling frown. You tilt your head slightly in confusion but before you can think Joel lunges forward and rips your hand away from your cunt, pinning it next to your torso.

“Let me taste you?” he whispers. You nod hurriedly in response. Lick me, touch me, do anything.

He presses a kiss to your clit and you gasp in surprise. “This is my pussy now,” he growls. Now that he knows what you look like touching yourself for him, he can’t just sit there and watch you anymore. Joel’s desperate, he needs to make you come. “From now on, you’re only gonna come when I say so. Do you understand?”

You mumble incoherently and Joel swats your thigh, not satisfied with your answer. “Do you understand?” he repeats, his voice dark and serious.

“Yes, Joel,”

“Good girl. You just relax now, let me take care of you,” he instructs you. Your head falls to the pillow, and you let out a soft exhale as Joel wraps his strong arms around your thighs and pulls your pussy to his face. Joel inhales your scent deeply, enjoying your aroma.

He licks a long stripe from your slick hole all the way to your clit, flattening his tongue against you. He licks every inch of you, memorizing your folds with his deft tongue. When he’s satisfied with the way he’s worked you up, he focuses on your clit, flicking it with his tongue before inserting two fingers inside of you.

“Joel,” you gasp out, hands reaching for his salt and pepper curls. Your thighs clamp around his head and he removes his hands from your body to spread them out again.

“You stay open for me now,” he commands. He plunges his fingers back inside you and curls them upward, hitting that spot that makes your knees weak and your eyes see stars. You moan loudly when Joel’s lips attach to your clit once more, this time gently sucking on the sensitive bud. He’s drunk on your taste, completely addicted to your flavor. His tongue continues dancing on your center and you pull him close to you, rutting your hips into his face. Every once in awhile you swipe his nose and he uses the opportunity to dip and twirl his tongue inside of you.

This is the best way to eat pussy, Joel’s learned. Find out what makes her tick and keep doing that, let her grind on his lips and nose. Right now, your wish is his command.

You reach down and grab his not working arm to bring it towards your breasts. Joel picks up what you’re putting down immediately and trails his hand over your breasts, pinching and twisting your pebbled nipples. That’s all it takes to have you coming in his mouth.

You cry out his name as you buck your hips into him, fighting the urge to push him away when the feeling becomes too intense.

Joel doesn’t allow you to catch your breath. He flips you on your tummy and drags you down the bed, his fingernails pressing into your skin. “You did so good for me, baby. You gonna let me fuck you now? Just like you pretend, right?” He pulls his shirt over his head and steps out of his pajama pants behind you.

“Yes, Joel, please,” you whine.

“I like hearin’ that. Keep beggin’ for me,” Joel demands as nudges your thighs apart with his knee. He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, painting his precum on your skin. He pushes the tip inside, not yet dipping all the way inside you.

“I need you,” you sob with desperation.

“Need me to what?” He knows what you need, but Joel’s gonna make you spell it out to him.

You let out a groan of frustration and back your ass into his hips. Joel chuckles at your annoyance. “Come on now. Tell me what I want to hear,” he repeats his words from earlier. “Put that pretty mouth to use.”

“I need you to fuck me,”

“There you go. Was that so hard?”

Joel wraps his hands around your hips, his fingers digging into your lower stomach and his thumbs pressed firmly into your lower back and slams his hips into you. His fingernails leave dents in your skin.

You yelp at the sudden contact, not expecting him to go so hard and fast. His thick cock stretches you out and you can feel the tip hitting you deep inside.

“Always knew this pussy would feel good,” he mumbled behind you, beginning his firm pace.

You arch your back into him, using your body to tell him what you need. You love the way he feels, so strong and holding you so tight. It really is a fantasy come to life. “Don’t stop, please,” you cry for him.

“Mmmm,” he hums. “You love this cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, Joel,”

“That’s right. It’s all for you, baby,” he continues pounding into you.

Joel stops for a second and flips you over on your back. He apologizes, “Sorry, sweetheart. I know I said I’d fuck you like them in the magazine but fuck, I gotta see you,” he says. “Can’t let you hide those tits from me anymore.”

Joel pulls your legs up and places them over his shoulders, opening you up even deeper for him. He lets out a moan at the change in position.

He admires the way you look, all of it just for him. Your half lidded eyes, mouth open and spilling out moans and obscenities with every snap of his hips. You’re completely fucked out.

You reach down to thumb your clit and he smacks your hand away. “What’d I say earlier? You come when I say. I didn’t say, did I?” he scolded you.

“N-no,” you stutter out.

Joel takes your wrists into his hand and pins them above your head. “Can’t trust you, sweetheart. Thought you were gonna be a good girl for me,” He snakes his other hand between your thighs and circles your sensitive clit with his thumb ever so lightly. Torturing you with what could be and never giving you more.

The wet squelching noises of your pussy and the slapping sound of skin hitting skin have your head spinning. Joel fucks you at a merciless pace, frenzied and desperate. He’s savoring the way you’re squirming under him, straining your wrists against his locked grip. He knows it’s agonizing, almost painful the way you’re aching for release. But he’s determined to teach you a lesson.

“Please,” you choke out. “Just make me come,”

“I don’t know that you deserve it, baby, Touchin’ yourself to that picture of my lookalike? That’s awful selfish of you,” he chided you. “Depriving me of this?”

“Joel,” you whined. You’d do whatever it took to get some release.

“Tell me how long you were needing me,” Joel panted. “Weeks? Months?”

“I don’t know. Forever,” you admitted. “I need to come now, please.”

“Forever? I wish you said somethin’ earlier, baby. You wouldn’t be in this mess,”

You didn’t know how much more you could take. Tears of frustration were streaming down your cheeks, each of his thrusts hitting deep and massaging your insides. You were right there, you just needed permission to let go.

Joel was right there with you, also struggling to hold on. He wanted nothing more than to keep fucking you without allowing you to finish, but he’d never seen something so erotic and sexy. Your body, tangled in his own, your twitching thighs and furrowed brow. And he was responsible for all of it, responsible for turning into this wreck.

“You’re takin’ me so good, sweet girl. Beggin’ and askin’ me so nice,” he whispered. “You do one last thing for me, and I’ll let you come.”

“Anything,” you gasp. Now his wish is your command.

“You focus right here. Look at me, and don’t close your eyes. Keep makin’ those pretty noises for me, just like you always do,” You’re not even consciously trying to follow his orders, you just do. You can’t break your stare from his dark and hungry gaze, his lip curled in a nefarious smirk. Breathy moans and high pitched squeals escape your mouth.

“Always knew you’d be my good girl. Alright now. Let go for me,”

That’s all you needed to reach your peak. The warm, coiling feeling in the pit of your stomach erupts, shooting electricity through your veins. Your vision goes blurry and you hear staticky ringing as you cry out for Joel. It’s all you can feel as wave after wave of pleasure rocks your body.

Joel’s thrusts are sloppy now as he chases his own orgasm. Your fluttering walls and the way you whisper his name like a prayer are all he needed to reach his peak. His hips are stuttering and his muscles jerk and tremble as he pulses inside you, painting your insides with his seed. Joel hovers above you, placing wet kisses and tonguing your salty skin. He’s addicted to the way you taste.

It only hits you now how surreal this entire evening is. Joel’s above you, collecting himself and catching his breath and you’re still pinned beneath him. Of course, you imagined fucking him many times prior to this but it was never this way. You couldn’t complain, though.

Joel interrupts your thoughts with a kiss, sweet and gentle and loving. A stark contrast to the way he fucked your body just moments before. “So apple pudgy pies, right?”

You giggle. Joel is such a typical man, wanting a snack right after sex. At least he’s not already passed out on top of you, the way other men often do. “Yes Joel, just like you asked for,”

Joel backs away from you then with a cute little fist pump, as if he’s winning a prize. “Fuck yeah,” he whispers, walking to the bathroom completely nude. He’s got such a nice and plump ass, you notice.

He comes back and wipes you off with affectionate care, being extra conscious not to irritate your sensitive skin after the rigorous fucking. He helps you into your pajamas then and kisses you on the top of the head. “I’m gonna get the fire goin’, meet me out there?”

“Sure, Joel,” you respond with a smile. “I have to finish up with the apples first, though.”

“Take your time. I’ll be out there,”

You sit up and kiss Joel one last time, the way his lips slide against yours gives you butterflies. It’s a little late to feel that way after what you just did. You go to the bathroom then go downstairs and finish prepping the apples, stirring them over the stove. Once they’re finished, you prepare the sandwiches and make your way outside to sit next to Joel.

The warm glow of the fire illuminates his skin and he looks so handsome, his features look so defined by the light and shadows. He helps you put the sandwiches in the pie irons and then places them on the grill above the fire, careful to make sure they’re not getting too much heat too quickly.

The fire begins to shrink, flames not reaching quite as high as the sandwiches need. You turn your head around you looking for some more firewood, but the sound of ripping paper interrupts your search.

It’s Joel, tearing out pages of a magazine. Your magazine, from before. You look at him with confusion.

“I told you, sweetheart. You won’t be needin’ this anymore. You come to me,” he explains with a low voice, flipping the cast iron pans. “I took good care of you, right?”

You smile shyly. “You did,”

“And I intend to keep takin’ care of your needs,” he promises.

You nod wordlessly, still smiling. A few more moments pass before Joel removes the irons from the fire and removes your pies to cool off, then slices them in half. They’re golden brown and the spicy, sweet, warm smell is sinfully delicious. The gooey apples spill from the bread slightly. Your tummy grumbles at the sight.

The dessert has cooled enough, you decide. Taking a half of one of the sandwiches in your hand, you bring it to your mouth and take a small bite, the cooked apples are like lava in your mouth. You hiss at the burn on your tongue and lips.

Joel looks at you with disapproving concern. “Tsk,” he mumbles with displeasure. “You’re terribly impatient, aren’t you?” his tone from the bedroom is back. Reaching forward to take your chin between your fingers, he swipes his thumb along your bottom lip, collecting some of the apple filling. Your eyes widen, you’re startled by his touch.

“I’ll fix you, though. Teach you some self control,” he sucks his digit into his mouth and pulls it out with a pop, humming at the sweet flavor. “Lord knows you need it.”

All you can think about is sucking his cock the same way he sucked his thumb. You wonder how the soft skin of his dick would feel on your tongue. How he would taste, how he’d look as you take him deep down your throat.

God, how you need it.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #strang3lov3

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lysenfeu · 6 months

Text

Cheque Please!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Eddie Brock/Venom x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt: Public

Summary: Venom gets a little too enthusiastic after you offer him a treat on date night with Eddie. Content: Smut (F/M), Semi-public sex, Alien sex, Tentacles/tendrils, Oral sex (F receiving)

A/N: I love my scrunkly journalist and his goo husband so much, absolute menaces the pair of them.

[Read on AO3]

[Kinktober 2023 Masterlist]

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Date night with Eddie was your favourite night of the week. This time he'd taken you out to a cozy Italian place with plush seating and gorgeous decor. You had spent the evening laughing at Eddie's ridiculous work stories and eating some of the best pasta you'd ever had. Now at the end of the night, you were comfortably buzzed after splitting a bottle of red wine and you were thoroughly enjoying your time with your adorable boyfriend.

The server approached your table and quickly cleared your empty plates before placing a small menu in front of you. "Are you interested in any coffee or dessert?"

An image on the front of the menu caught your eye immediately, an absolutely decadent-looking chocolate cake. Eddie must have seen the look on your face as he chuckled and promptly asked the server to bring you a slice. You were delighted when it arrived looking exactly like the picture. After the first bite, you’d thought you might have died and gone to heaven. Savouring every bite of the rich, velvety chocolate treat reminded you of a certain inky black someone with a sweet tooth.

Of course, everywhere Eddie went, Venom was with him. Never alone and never apart as Venom liked to say. The inseparable pair had revealed themselves to you awhile ago and after the initial shock of finding out the cute guy you’d been dating had an actual alien inside him, Venom had grown on you. You knew he was simmering somewhere under Eddie’s skin, seeing and hearing everything but knowing not to reveal himself too obviously.

"Hey, does the big guy want a bite?"

YES!

The symbiote roared to life in Eddie’s mind and he rolled his eyes at the overager tone of his other half.

"He does but he really doesn't deserve any. He’s been an absolute pain lately" Eddie's jacket sleeve wobbled a little, Venom subtly showing off his annoyance with his host's comments.

You pouted at your boyfriend. "Aw, come on babe. He can have a little bit."

AGREE WITH HER! SHE IS SMARTER THAN YOU.

Eddie sighed in resignation. "Alright, fine. But only if he promises to not be seen and behave." He did his best to glare at the alien in silent warning internally. Venom slipped out of Eddie's sleeve and dropped beneath the table, quickly extending himself over to where you were sitting. You arranged up the last pieces of the decadent dessert on your fork.

Eddie shook his head at you as you carefully lifted the tablecloth and held out the utensil in your lap. "You're way too soft on him, you know."

"It's just a piece of cake, shush."

Venom's head moved over to you, opening his jaws and unfurling his tongue, the long appendage moving around in anticipation of the chocolatey treat. A few strings of saliva splattered onto your thigh, cold and wet against your skin. An involuntary shiver raced down your spine and your grip on the fork tensed. You weren't a stranger to Venom teasing you, he’d been involved with both you and Eddie countless times, but having him do it unexpectedly in such a risky location was new.

The alien’s tongue reached out and curled around your wrist, pulling your whole arm under the table. The utensil wobbled dangerously before the symbiote could bring it closer, smearing the cake along your thigh as he dragged it towards his split open mouth. You didn’t get a moment to process the streak of crumbs and powdered sugar now decorating your leg before Venom’s tongue released your wrist and moved to lap at the mess, the wet thickness sliding along the soft skin on your inner thigh.

Venom blinked, cautiously smelling the air before recognizing the scent. He was smelling chocolate and you. You couldn't help your reaction, the cold spit and warm muscle in such a sensitive area left you wet and wanting more. Your thighs immediately tried to snap closed searching for friction but Venom caught you. Inky black tendrils split off from his form, gripping at your knees and prying them apart, giving him full access to you underneath the table. Your scent was overwhelming him and the alien desperately needed more. You shakily brought your hand back to the tabletop and clumsily dropped the fork on your plate, deeply distracted by the alien moving between your legs. Eddie looked at you curiously, you were flushed and biting down on your bottom lip to stop from making too much noise.

Vee? What’s going on?

Venom slid his impossibly long, wet tongue along your clothed cunt, soaking through the rest of the lacy fabric that you hadn’t already drenched.

DELICIOUS.

Eddie watched from across the table as your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open with a gasp. Eddie frowned, suspicious of the alien and somewhat worried about you.

What are you doing?

WE ARE SAYING THANK YOU.

Venom ran his tongue along your center again, dipping beneath the seam of your panties and finally tasting you. The symbiote was sending flashes of how you looked, felt and smelled straight into Eddie's mind. The dirty little secrets of how well you were responding to his teasing, how wet you already were, just for them. Venom thought you tasted even better than the cake and Eddie certainly wasn’t going to disagree.

As the images and sensations flooded Eddie's mind, his eyes darkened with lust and his cock twitched to life trapped in his jeans. He muttered something about public decent and how that’s not exactly behaving but fine.

Be quiet but don’t stop.

WE WILL NEVER STOP.

A tendril slithered up your thigh and along the edge of your panties, slipping underneath and pulling them to the side.

As quietly as possible, Venom licked at your fully exposed pussy, the tip of his tongue flicking hard against your clit. Electricity shot through you at the contact, You brought your napkin up to your lips to try and stifle the moans continuously threatening to escape you as Venom did it again and again, knowing just how to bring you right to the edge.

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off you, his pupils were blown out with desire and his cock aching in his denims as Venom relayed every bit of your pleasure and taste to him. The symbiote was also sending him absolutely filthy suggestions of what they could both do to you back at home when Venom could come out to play properly. Visions of you spread out underneath them, hearing all those sounds you needed to supress right now, the two of them making you fall apart over and over. Eddie was nearly delirious from the onslaught of Venom's ideas. Your hands fisted into the table cloth and your eyes fluttered shut as Venom’s tongue slipped in and out of your soaking pussy, impossibly long and thick, dragging along your slick walls.

"Hey, hey." Eddie gently chided you from across the table. "Look at me." He reached out and grabbed your hand, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb against your palm.

You forced your eyes open to meet Eddie's gaze. The intensity on his face caught you off guard. He looked downright ravenous; like he wanted to devour you whole the same way Venom was trying to.

“You can take it, can’t you? Be good for us.”

A whine built in the back of your throat, both of your boys were clearly on board with this. The pair were getting off on teasing and torturing you in public, Venom treating you like his very own dessert. You could take it, you would be a good girl for them. Eddie asked so nicely, how could you disappoint him?

Eddie watched with rapt attention as you let Venom wreck you in public. None of the other tables would know anything out of the ordinary was happening but Eddie knew. He knew how hard you were trying to keep quiet as you were about to cum, how a mix of your juices and Venom’s saliva was dripping onto the chair underneath you as your thighs shook around Venom’s head. Vee finally pushed you over the edge, your pussy clamping down and convulsing around the alien’s soaked tongue Eddie saw you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as your eyes rolled back in your head and you came completely undone on Venom’s face, flooding the symbiote with your sweet flavour.

The alien appendages slowly withdrew from you as Venom slithered away and retracted back into Eddie, satisfied with himself for the moment. You felt Eddie squeeze your hand and ground you, helping you float back down to earth. When you opened your eyes, you caught Eddie staring at you with obvious lust and a hint of pride in his gaze.

“Such a good girl, you did great baby.”

You smiled lazily at him, still a little wobbly from the sensory overload but filled with warmth at the praise, These two would be the death of you one day, but you knew you’d enjoy every second of it. You were still trying to catch your breath and recover from the intense orgasm when the server approached the table again.

"How was the cake? Anything else I can get you?"

"Everything was great, we just need the cheque please." Eddie grinned at you, a predatory gleam in his eye.

"We should get going, there’s something we need to take care of at home.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: Well that was a fun one! I really hope you enjoyed it, please leave a comment, reblog or like <3

#eddie brock #venom #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x you #venom x reader #venom x you #eddie brock x venom x you #eddie brock x venom x reader #eddie brock fanfic #eddie brock smut #venom fanfic #venom smut #kinktober 2023

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mingtinys · 8 days

Text

what dating seventeen feels like

pairing : seventeen x gn!reader

headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 1.1 k

requested ? no

a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen

choi seungcheol

falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.

cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.

having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.

yoon jeonghan

diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.

always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.

having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.

joshua hong

warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.

lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.

a honeymoon phase that never ends.

wen junhui

walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.

taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.

living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.

kwon soonyoung

energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.

zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.

excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.

jeon wonwoo

tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.

re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.

defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.

lee jihoon

thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.

morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.

cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.

lee seokmin

wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.

always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.

finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.

kim mingyu

sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.

admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.

the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."

xu minghao

the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.

wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.

growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.

boo seungkwan

warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.

teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.

resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.

hansol vernon chwe

watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.

communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.

loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.

lee chan

the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.

driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).

making each other's inner child feel safe.

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dotster001 · 1 year

Note

Hello! I really liked your fanfic about mistletoe and I would like to submit my application. Can you write what type of girl the characters in the twisted wonderland like?

What Kind of Girl they Like

Summary: Fem! Reader What girl the twisted wonderland boys say they will fall for, versus who they will be attracted to.

CW: Fem! Reader, some of the boys are assholes with their answers, it's explained away in the who they end up with section, so take it with a grain of salt, also these are just my opinions. If you don't agree that's ok!

A/n:it is truly humbling how few of these I actually fit the description of 😭 also, feel free to send in an ask if you want the staff and non nrc boys, or a masc. Reader version (there are some differences for some of them for a male lover)

Masc Version gn! Version

Heartslaybul

Ace Trappola

What he says

"I dunno, she'd have a great bod and make me sandwiches. Kidding! Sevens, don't glare at me like that, I was just messing with ya! She's probably smart, and sweet as sugar, and let's me get into trouble. And a great bod wouldn't hurt- hey don't throw stuff at me!"

Who he ends up with

Ace is going to be naturally attracted to a girl he can "bring out the worst in." She probably starts out shy and quiet, then Ace adopts her into his friend group, and now they are sassing each other back and forth. She calls him out on his bullshit, and fights against his teasing with teasing of her own. But she also takes care of him when he's down. He's hiding a lot of insecurity under his cool guy exterior, so if she lets him snuggle, and lets him whine, and then whispers how much she loves him, he'll be a happy man. Also, side note, he's fine if you like sports, but if you know nothing about basketball, it means he gets to look really good when you come to his games. Just saying….

Deuce Spade

What he says

"Huh, I've never really thought about it. Um, I guess she's nice and funny, and isn't scared of my past. I'd also want her to be a little like you, Y/N….not that I like you! Well, I like you, not like like you, shit I'm sorry! This isn't sounding any better…"

Who he ends up with

He really means it when he says he wants someone like you. You're one of his first friends, and, in his mind, the person you date/marry should be your best friend. But if it's not you he ends up with, he will probably be attracted to a girl who's book smart, but less street smart. A little "dumb" like him, in a cute kind of way. He likes a cuddler, and maybe a girl who is shorter than him so that he can feel like he's swallowing her whole when he wraps his arms around her. Also, someone who encourages him and helps him with his homework/paperwork.

Riddle Rosehearts

What he says

"I don't have time for a relationship right now….but I think I want someone well behaved who follows the rules- what are you smirking at? Just because you're a rule breaker doesn't mean every girl is. I'd also like her to be in the medical profession. You know, someone who works the same profession as me so we have similar interests."

Who he ends up with

As much as he hates to admit it…he's attracted to rule breakers. Not as bad as Ace obviously, he's not trying to go gray early. But if she says something like "let's have a non herbal tea" when it's time for only herbal tea…damn what a rush. By the time he gets serious with someone, he'll be confident enough in himself to cut ties with his mother, so she has to be strong willed, and willing to live off of a low budget for a while. He'll need someone understanding, who knows he'll have relapses and be too much and too angry sometimes, and she has to be understanding of that, and encouraging of improvement, or he'll live with guilt for the rest of his life.

Trey Clover

What he says

"Someone who's willing to settle down and grow fat and old with me. You're laughing, but I'm going to be running my parents bakery, and feeding people is my love language. Speaking of, you better finish off that slice of cake before the others steal it."

Who he ends up with

Trey isn't that picky. He really means it when he says he wants someone to get old and fat with. That's his dream. Running a bakery with his wife by his side, and growing old together as your own kids grow up and bring home their own spouses. But he also wants a girl he can blindside with his sadistic side. Someone who'll enjoy that side of him, but also someone who easily forgets it's there. It makes things more fun for him.

Cater Diamond

What he says

"Ha ha someone trendy and totes hot. Someone totally cammable. Aw, are you jealous? Don't worry, you'll always be my fave girlie, even if you're not the girl I love."

Who he ends up with

Cater wants someone who won't disappear when he looks away. Yes, if she's "cammable" that's the first thing he's looking for, but when all is said and done, if she seems like she's going to be flaky, he won't take it too seriously either, as a defense mechanism. He needs a girl with mental endurance, because he's going to spend the beginning of the relationship trying to scare her off. Not that he wants to, he just needs to know he won't be left alone like he usually is. He is going to be attracted to a girl who humors his trends and magicam addiction, but who also sees through him. Someone balanced. She sees the real Cay Cay, but she's also willing to be his "trophy wife" online.

Savannaclaw

Jack Howl

What he says

"Oh, I uh, well someone who can keep up on a run with me I guess…"

Who he ends up with

Jack says he wants someone who can work out with him. And he would really be happy if he had a girl who was as active as him…but he'd also be happy with a curvy girl. He gets blushy thinking about holding someone soft and plush against his firm muscles. But he's flexible. In the end he won't choose his future wife based on appearance and activity. Wolf beastmen mate for life, so the main thing he is looking for is loyalty. Loyalty, and someone who would want to raise lots of kids with him. As long as you have those two traits, nothing else really matters to him.

Ruggie Bucchi

What he says

"Girlfriends are expensive, shihihi. Tell you what, you find me a lady with sticky fingers, and we'll eat the rich together."

Who he ends up with

This is a deflection. Ruggie loves the idea of a busy business wife, while he is a trophy househusband, cooking and cleaning for his high powered lady. He wants a strong woman who will scratch his ears and tell him he did such a good job! Then he'll draw her a bath, and massage her feet as she tells him about her day, then they'll snuggle and make out until they fall asleep…that's the dream anyway. He can be a little worker bee until you rise through the ranks, which you will, Ruggie has absolute faith in you. You guys can rob people early on if you have to. In short…Ruggie wants a dommish woman who will call him a good boy and keep him well fed.

Leona Kingscholar

What he says

"Body pillow"

"That's not-"

"Body pillow"

Who he ends up with

He's going to be attracted to a strong woman who whips his ass into shape. Someone who says, "Hey bitch, you're going to therapy, cause I love you and want you to be happy!" And then she actually makes him go. And when he does go, she rewards him with snuggles, and soft kisses. He wants a woman who's never scared of him, who's self assured, and is certain and vocal about her feelings for him.

Also, she has to accept that nighttime is when she's a body pillow. That's an absolute must.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

What he says

"Why do you wish to know? Are you attempting to reach my standards? Ha ha, let's see. A woman who is ethereal, who is willing to dress stunningly, and sit in my lap when I make deals, so that competitors can see what a high value man I am."

Who he ends up with

If that didn't make you want to throw up 🤢. He'll be attracted to someone who makes him feel beautiful in subtle ways. He knows how easy it is to spin a verbal web of lies. But there's some things you can't fake. Like allowing someone to rest on your lap, and caressing their hair. Or squeezing someone's hand gently when you have to let go. Or pressing a kiss to someone's cheek after you help them straighten their outfit. It's the soft romantic moments that'll speak to Azul when he finds his love. Aside from that, he's not looking for anything in particular. Just someone who makes him feel loved and beautiful.

Jade Leech

What he says

"Fu fu who's to say? Perhaps you are the woman of my dreams. Or not."

Who he ends up with

She's a woman who can see through him. She's someone who never compares him or confuses him for his twin. She's smart. Very smart. She eats his mushrooms and goes on hikes with him. She is patient with Floyd. What Jade is looking for….is female Jade. Someone like that is the only one who can truly keep up with him.

Floyd Leech

What he says

"Aw Shrimpy! Are you worried? Don't worry, whoever she is, I'll still squeeze ya!"

Who he ends up with

He's looking for someone fun. That's his only criteria. At least that's what he says. He can't be sure if he loves her because she's fun, or if she's fun because he loves her. In that sense, it's sort of a soulmate situation for Floyd. Whatever will be will be. He'll just know.

…

Also she has to be squeezable.

Scarabia

Kalim al Asim

What he says

"I love everybody!"

"But-"

"Have some of this ice cream, it's amazing!"

Who he ends up with

He wants someone he can spoil, but he doesn't know that. It's something in his subconscious. He doesn't want things in exchange either. So she has to be someone who is okay with being spoiled, and doesn't feel guilty about it. He's going to be attracted to someone who loves life like him, but also helps to keep him grounded. And if she has a spark of danger in her, oh man, he'll be simping so hard.

Jamil Viper

What he says

"I'm not going to even think about it until my freedom is assured. Kalim has promised, but it would be irresponsible to force someone into servitude with me."

Who he ends up with

Jamil is going to be attracted to a hard worker. Someone who's dedicated, and slightly serious. He's also looking for a girl who will see how hard he works, and pampers him from time to time. He's never been in charge of anything, so he likes being the boss of the household. Not that he doesn't see her as an equal! On the contrary, he wants his marriage to be a partnership. But the idea of having somewhere where he is king is definitely something he likes. She can rule the house from as well. They can split the time they rule over the household. They'll take turns being served and pampered.

Pomefiore

Epel Felmier

What he says

"Um, she knows I'm the boss. Wait, that came out misogynistic, sorry I jus mean she knows I'm manly and can support her an all that."

Who he ends up with

He says he wants a cutsie tiny housewife, so that he can be the manly man at the manliest job for mans. He really will be attracted to any girl who doesn't doubt his masculinity, nor call him cute. Someone who tells him that they feel safe and secure with him. He says he wants a short wife. But he's fine with any size or shape as long as she sees him as someone who can care for her.

Rook Hunt

What he says

"Mademoiselle trickster, I can find beauty in every woman."

Who he ends up with

What he says is actually true. He can and will fall in love with every kind of woman. It's hard to say who he will tie himself to, in the end. It'll be someone who he heavily bonds with and imprints on. It's a lot like with Floyd. Essentially a soulmate situation.

Vil Schoenheit

What he says

"Hm. Why do you want to know, potato? I suppose she's professional, and beautiful, and cares about her image enough that she doesn't cause a scandal."

Who he ends up with

The thing about Vil is, he's not that far off from Rook in his take on beauty. He doesn't so much believe in conventional beauty, or societal beauty standards. He knows everyone has an individual definition of health and beauty. When he says he's looking for a beautiful woman, he's looking for someone who's willing to reach her full potential. Or, more accurately, to allow him to help her reach her full potential. Vil never admits it, but he adores pampering and styling people. His love language is helping people look their best. So if she's someone who knows herself enough to know what style she likes, he'll appreciate it, and take up the mantle of doing the hard work, ie making outfits, styling hair and makeup, formulating skin care etc. TLDR, he wants a confident self possessed woman he can dress like a doll, and show off.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

What he says

"-------------" mutes ipad.

In his head, he doesn't think any woman would ever love him. But his dream woman is a sexy anime cat girl.

Who he ends up with

What he'll be attracted to is someone who is patient, speaks at a reasonable volume, and is assertive enough to make him leave his room. Essentially, winning Idia's heart is a siege. You'll have to starve him out. That's the patience bit. The reasonable volume comes from him being easily scared by loud noises. Assertive enough to make him leave his room…well that speaks for itself. He wants to believe he can be part of the outside world, and the girl he will fall for will be willing to show it to him.

Diasomnia

Sebek Zigvolt

What he says

"She is someone of noble bearing, who shall help me defend my liege!"

Who he ends up with

He'll fall for a woman who is stronger, mentally, physically, etc., than him. A woman who can put him in his place. A woman who speaks, and it makes him shut up, and sit pretty. She's assertive, and can come off as abrasive to others but to Sebek? Sevens, he'd die for a smidgen of her affection.

Silver

What he says

"I don't think it's worth it to try and define the girl I'll fall in love with. There are so many wonderful women, and my father always told me that love is the greatest mystery in this world. Who's to say who I'll fall in love with?"

Who he ends up with

Silver will fall for someone soft. The entire romance will be soft. Soft caresses in the moonlight. Soft kisses in the morning. Soft fingers gently intertwining. She'll be empathetic about his sleep condition, never blaming him since it's not his fault. She'll be gentle with his animal friends. She'll be sweet and kind and the very image of a Disney Princess. I'm picturing Aurora, actually. How ironic.

Lilia Vanrouge

What he says

"Fu Fu Fu wouldn't you like to know."

Who he ends up with

Lilia can and has fallen for every kind of woman. He's lived a long time. He's had the time to romance lots of women. What he'd probably fall for in this stage of his life, is someone he can tease, and play around with, but who is also ready to settle down a little bit. Someone who enjoys the little things in life. He's getting a little old. He wants to build onto his family that he already has. Silver can stand to have three or ten more siblings, right?

Malleus Draconia

What he says

"You."

Who he ends up with

You.

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic

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mysmuttyself · 1 month

Text

My care for you

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+

Summary: When Y/n's baking session is interrupted by the magnetic presence of Dean Winchester, their encounter in the kitchen heats up far beyond the oven's temperature.

Tags: Smut, p in v, kitchen sex, pure filth, improper use of pie, possessive Dean, dirty talk, established relationship,

Word count: 809

A/N: This is basically just me pining for Dean freacking Winchester. I baked i pie last week and i got inspired. Please be nice English is not my first language. Enjoy ;)

Everything was ready. The dough had been stored in the fridge to chill. Y/n expertly sliced the apples, the knife gliding through the fruit with practiced ease, she then drizzled them with lemon juice, before pouring the slices in a pan to simmer with sugar and cinnamon.

She was just adding the last touch, a sprinkle of nutmeg, when she felt two strong, calloused hands surround her just below the waist. His scent enveloped her, a combination of musk and amber, strong enough to weaken her knees.

"De" said Y/n in a plaintive tone. She had leaned his head against his solid, muscular chest. "Would you like me to finish this pie for you?"

Dean's lips curved into a playful smile against her neck. He continued to stroke the skin around her ribcage.

"I know baby, it's that you look so damn hot when you cook for me my favourite plate, so caring and sweet, good enough to eat."

He peppered kisses along her neck, and she melted in his arms.

As Dean continued to trail kisses down Y/n's neck, his hands moved lower, slipping under the hem of her shirt to caress the soft skin of her stomach. Y/n's breath hitched, a shiver of anticipation running through her as she leaned back into his touch.

"Dean," she moaned, her voice barely above a whisper, "what about the pie? I could burn the filling"

Dean's smirk only widened as he murmured huskily, "Screw the pie, sweetheart. Right now, all I want to do is fill you up"

She just had the time to turn off the stove before he spun her around, pressing her against the kitchen counter with a hungry urgency. His lips crashed against hers in a heated kiss, tongues tangling as desire surged between them. Y/n moaned into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair as she surrendered completely to him.

Dean's hands roamed eagerly over her body, pulling the fabric of her skirt up.

“Look at the mess you made baby, is this all for me?” He asked moving the dampening panties to the side to reveal her wet core. Y/n arched into his touch unable to answer, aching for more as he started to tease her, rocking his till clothed shaft against her wet folds.

"Dean," she gasped, her voice thick with need, "please..."

Her plea hung in the air like a silent prayer, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for his response. Dean's darkened gaze met hers, a flicker of primal hunger flashing in his eyes as he leaned in close, his lips grazing her earlobe with a tantalizing whisper.

“Tell me what you need sweetheart” he breathed, his sultry low voice sent shivers down her spine.

“I need you, I need your cock” Y/n begged him. A primal growl rumbled from deep within Dean's chest. His desire for her burned hot and fierce, matching the intensity of her own need.

"Then you shall have me" Dean husked, in one swift motion, he freed himself from his clothing, his throbbing length springing eagerly into view. Y/n's breath caught in her throat at the sight. He was beautifully thick, if a cock could have been defined pretty, it was Dean’s.

Without a word, Dean positioned himself between her trembling thighs, his hands gripping her hips possessively as he guided himself to her slick entrance.

“Are gonna be a good girl? Take me nice and deep?” He asked her in a so very low tone.

“Yes, yes, Dean please” With a slow, torturous push, he entered her, the sensation of their bodies joining sending waves of pleasure coursing through them both

Y/n gasped as Dean filled her completely, every inch of him stretching and filling her in the most delicious way imaginable. She clung to him desperately, nails digging into his back as he began to move with a rhythm that was both primal and intoxicating.

With each thrust, Dean drove Y/n to the brink of ecstasy, his name falling from her lips in a breathless mantra of desire.

“Tell me that you are mine” His words, laden with desire and command.

"I'm yours, Dean," she gasped, her voice trembling with need. "All yours."

With each thrust, Dean claimed her as his own, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony. When Dean's calloused hand reached to stimulate her clit, it was too much for Y/n.

She exploded in a climax of lust, and Dean reached his own orgasm a couple of thrusts later, moaning her name.

They looked at each other for what seemed like endless seconds. Then he finally smiled and said, “Looks like we worked up an appetite” murmuring as he reached for the nearby apple pie filling. He sucked on his finger and then fed it to her.

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #possessive!dean #supernatural imagine #spn #reader insert #dean winchester one shot

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kteezy997 · 4 months

Text

The Candy Man- Part Three//W.W.

Warnings: mention of weight gain, judging spouse for gaining weight, planning to trick spouse, and some brief but very filthy smut, oral sex female receiving

Your secret affair with Willy went on for several more weeks. It was the highlight of your week, every week. He would bring over his delicious chocolate concoctions for you to try, and you would make love all over your house.

You loved having something to look forward to. You loved having someone that took notice of you, and made you feel beautiful and desired. Willy was charming, of course, but also sensitive and bright eyed, with such a positive energy to be around.

Each moment with him was a slice of heaven. At first, it was all about the sex, and how excited and willing to learn he was. But, in time, you found yourself falling in love.

You weren’t surprised that your husband still had no clue about another man coming over to sleep with you. He hadn't picked up on the exponential change in your mood, or the scent of another man on you, or the little love marks on your body. The man you married wasn’t the brightest bulb on Christmas tree. But he did begin notice that you had gained a few pounds. He made a couple of snide comments about your weight.

You hadn’t really paid attention, but once he rudely pointed it out, you realized that you had plumped up slightly in your belly area. It hurt your feelings, especially since he barely spoke to you and now whenever he did, it was to acknowledge something he viewed as a flaw. You figured the extra weight was brought on by all the sugar you had been eating on account of your lover’s chocolate.

You thought very little of your body’s changes until you missed your period the following week. Your stomach dropped at the thought of being pregnant, but not by your husband. You were worried about what he would do if he found out. You worried for your sake and for Willy's. You decided to call your doctor to be totally sure, and then you’d figure out your next step.

…….

When Willy came by that day, he was smiley as usual and wrapped his arms around you as soon as he entered the house. “I’ve missed you.” he cooed, kissing you with passion. It was difficult to be apart for a week at a time, for the both of you.

“I missed you too, Willy.” you said, squeezing him back as you hugged. “Listen, I gotta talk to you about something.”

“Of course. Is everything okay? Does he know?” There was a sudden urge of panic in Willy’s last question.

“No, no. It’s just…I think I could be pregnant. And you are the father, I haven’t had sex with my husband in months. I don’t know what to do.” you were anxious about your future when it came to this baby. You loved Willy, but you were a kept woman, your whole life could turn upside down as a result of this situation.

Willy's eyes were as big as saucers and he was silent for a moment before he said, “Wow. Okay, okay, listen, everything is going to be alright. Whatever you decide to do, I will support you.” he assured you, taking your hand. “I know that we haven’t known each other very long, but I love you, y/n. It sounds crazy, I know.”

“It does, it does sound crazy. But I love you too, Willy.”

He smiled softly at you, and he pulled you to him, and held you in a warm embrace. He smelled sweet like sugar, but also like fresh cottony linens.

You felt so safe with him, but you didn't know if that feeling could translate into the real world. You life with Willy looked so uncertain at this point.

But, his words of love and support lifted your spirits.

……

The next day, as you suspected, the doctors visit confirmed that you were indeed having a baby.

You spent the next week thinking of a plan of action. You were so torn between your mundane, yet familiar life with your dull husband, and the idea of running away with Willy Wonka. Willy had told you that his dream was to own and run his very own chocolate factory, to share his creations with the entire world.

No matter how big or unattainable his dreams may seem to an outsider, you knew that Willy was the kind of person to not take "no" as answer, and to chase his dreams all the way through to fruition. He was so full of joy and optimism and so easy to love. It would be the greatest adventure to be with him on his candy journey, especially along with your child. You knew that he would be a wonderful father.

But you didn't know how you and Willy would carry on in the meantime, before he found the success he was striving for. You didn't even know where he lived, or if he even had a home. For goodness sakes, you couldn't give birth or raise a baby in the streets!

There was one thing that would inhibit your life going forward with your husband. You were married to a blond haired, blue-eyed man with an athletic body. And you were impregnated by a skinny man with green eyes and dark curly hair. If you wanted to make your husband believe the child was his, you would have to come up with some genetic evidence.

Well, your mother had curly hair, so that could work in your favor. But the green eyes...perhaps those were descended from your father's side, yes, from the great grandfather you never got to meet, as he had died when your father was still small. Your husband would believe you, as he wouldn't have anything to disprove it.

Now, with your plan in your mind, all you had to do was sleep with your husband, to make him believe he impregnated you. The timeline of your fake pregnancy wouldn't line up with the actual one, but you knew that your husband could be fooled easily.

This could work for awhile, you thought, until you and Willy came up with another plan to run away together.

…….

You told Willy everything. You even mentioned that you would have to sleep with your husband for the plan to work. You didn’t want to have sex with him, but you had to at this point.

“I understand, y/n. And I’m not mad at you, but maybe I am little jealous that he will get to be inside you, I have to admit.” he looked down at his hands in his lap, pouting his lip a little, “He doesn’t deserve to be with you. Not in any way. You’re way too good for him.”

“You’re so sweet, honey. We will be out of this situation soon.” you caressed his cheek, smooth and soft to the touch, “You’ll have your own chocolate shop in no time and then, your own factory.” you put your hand on your stomach, “We believe in you, Willy Wonka.”

He grinned, putting his hand on yours, “I can’t wait to meet him, or her. The baby is going to be so beautiful, just like you.”

“I hope they have your curls.” you said, softly brushing your fingers through his silky locks.

Willy blushed, “I still can hardly believe it. I’m going to be a father.” he shook his head, then looked directly into your eyes, “And I’m going to give this child the life they deserve, and you too. Neither of you will have to want for anything, if I have something to say about it. We will have more than we’ve ever dreamed of, y/n.” he declared, leaning in to kiss you most tenderly.

“I’ve been thinking, and I really think that I can help you with the business side of things. You can be the chocolate maker and I’ll be your business partner. That way, it’ll be like we are truly in this together, Willy.”

He smiled from ear to ear, “Pinky promise? It’s the most solemn vow there is.” he held his pinky out and you tucked your own around his firmly.

“Pinky promise.”

…….

You were a little hornier than usual due to your pregnancy, so you and Willy got down to business straightaway after your important conversation. This rendezvous could also help you out by remembering it later in with your husband. Thinking about sex with Willy would make your reactions to Mr. Hudson more convincing.

As you lover went down on you, you threw your head back on the couch throw pillows. You moaned, nearing your orgasm already when Willy suddenly stopped licking. You looked down at him between your legs, “What is it, Willy?”

“Does being pregnant affect the way you taste? Because…” he licked his lips, pondering over your flavor, “you taste…salty, which is unusual, because you’re always sweet.”

You laughed, “I don’t know. I’m sure it can cause a little bit of a change.”

“Oh, okay.” he nodded, “You know, I’ve masturbated to the thought of eating you and chocolate at the same time.” he admitted.

“We can try it sometime, baby. Just keep going for now. I’m so close.” you loved how he felt comfortable enough to admit something so dirty to you, but all you wanted in that moment was for him to make come.

“Yeah, yeah! Right, sorry babe.”

You erupted just moments later and squirted in Willy’s face. You couldn’t get the image of him smirking with your juices on his lips out of your head. It came in handy when you had to seduce your husband later that night. Willy had a way of being encouraging.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @chalametbich @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee x reader #timothée imagine #timothee chalamet smut #willy wonka #willy wonka x reader #wonka movie #wonka #wonka 2023

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chrollohearttags · 9 months

Text

bake it

reiner can’t get enough of you or your sweet treats. Regardless of what anyone thinks.

themes: food play, reiner and reader both being nasty af, (and both have super country accents), lots of old southern colloquialisms, food play, oral (m. receiving), spit play, pet names (sugar, poundcake, daddy, pumpkin, sweet girl), spanking, backshots, squirting

📝: this may or may not be a lil series based off my fav album at the moment. I think it fits the cowboy!reiner x reader headcanon very well.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Chile, did you hear about what (y/n) did down at the Hole this weekend?”

“Girl yes. Being fast and actin’ all loose. Hanging over every man that’ll look her way.” “I’m tellin’ ya, honey. She ain’t nothing like her mama or her cousins. Girl’s a handful, I tell ya. Never seen a thang’ like it.”

“She was with that Braun boy from what I heard. Lord knows what she was doing..”

rumblings and rumors had spread like wildfire among about what took place at the infamous hang out spot and saloon in the small town in which you’d grown up. It seemed that not much had changed from the time you were a tiny child from now being a grown woman, returning to your stomping grounds after a couple years of higher education. Pearl clutching church ladies and snobby debutants with their noses in the air, disapproving of any woman who hadn’t settled down and popped out ten kids before the age of twenty five. It was how the customary traditions went in the south and sadly, wasn’t going to change any time soon. However…

“Yes and did you hear that I had him calling to the good lord after I fucked him seven ways to Sunday? He was a lot of fun. Boy’s got a third leg and a tongue like a serpent. Might have to keep him around.”

the very bold proclamation of your supposed actions had your coworkers of the Sweetie Pie Bakery; owned by the ladies in your family and had been a staple in the city for ten years, gasping and glaring at you disgust. The ones working there currently were a few new hires from the local church. The types to be sleeping with other people’s husbands by Saturday and running in and out of the pew on Sunday. Blatant hypocrites. Hence why you so casually admitted to your affairs and boasted about them. You didn’t give a damn what those uppity bitches thought of you! Especially when the man in question was all but obsessed with you…sneaking away at any opportune moment to have you since the first night you gave him a taste of your proverbial sweetness. Slurping you up, tonguing you down and pounding that little pussy sideways..letting him have a slice of you anyway he liked. It was no secret to anyone that you weren’t some innocent saint but if it’s gossip they wanted, you’d give those mouth breathing heifers something to bump their gums about. They’d feel how they want to about you regardless so it didn’t matter. Might as well have a little fun..

“Now if you ladies will excuse me, I have a delivery to make.”

“In that outfit?!” Referring to the very short, denim miniskirt wrapping your thick backside and halter top hoisting your ample breasts.“It’s ninety two degrees outside besides, a wretched jezebel like me has to look the part, right?” Mocking them with an overly done accent and a fake smile before waving and turning on the heels of your boots.

and where you were headed, you wouldn’t have it on long anyways..not once he spotted you…

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

halfway across the tracks was a small office residing on the outskirts of town, right before you’d reach the dozen mile long stretch of fields and farmland. The moniker atop the building read ‘Braun Farms, Inc.’ owned and operated by the prominent family for several years and generations. Providing fresh vegetables, poultry, cattle and everything else to many local diners and families. The hardest working man in the entire company may have been the next line to take it over, Reiner Braun. A young, handsome, determined guy who was always about his business before any sort of pleasures. Of course, that all changed when his new fling came around..a girl by the name of (y/n) (l/n) who had a grip on him in more ways than one. After some whisperings, he discovered that you too had grown up in this area but was carted off to school elsewhere in your adolescence. You at sone private Christian academy and him homeschooled, hence why your paths never crossed. But that was a thing of the past and so was hiding the promiscuity you both harbored.

“Damn, poundcake. You keep suckin’ on me like that and I might hafta’ give you my credit card and last name.”

the words escaping in a guttural groan from Reiner’s half parted lips. His chest was heaving, so much so, it looked as if it were about to pop from his chest. Going mad with pure unadulterated lust as you licked on his shaft from underneath the desk. He had been assigned to records keeping today so you decided to pay him a little visit on his lunch break. And what was a better meal than your delicious cupcake and the chance to eat his dick up?

“Don’t say that too loud, pumpkin. Someone might get the wrong idea about me..think I’m trying to take ya’ money.”

“To hell with them. Only thing I want right now is to fuck that pretty lil’ throat.”

and he did just that. Bobbing your head up and down with a spread palm resting atop your freshly done lace front; feeding you every inch feasible of that long, erect cock. Gliding it to the back of your mouth until it damn near reached your esophagus and drummed up strings of spit. Loud gurgling noises filled the room and Reiner nearly lost his shit. Clawing at the arms of the chair and cursing like a sailor. You had this man doing and behaving in ways unbecoming of his character but he could give a damn less. As long as you kept letting him use you like this. Sticking your tongue out, you’d smile and request that he spit into your mouth..adding to the pre existing strings saliva and cum covering your face. It didn’t help matters any when you decided to take some of that frosting and place it on his sensitive tip before slurping it off. “W-whatever you want, sugar. I’ll give you whatever you want just keep —oh shit!” Earning yourself another warm load of his nut all over your exposed tits and pretty face. “You taste so good..” Those deviant eyes and sultry voice luring him in. By now, you had to be dripping so he’d tug you out from under there and place you at the edge of the desk before saddling up behind you with that hard dick. Hoisting that mini skirt to your waist, letting it bunch up around that soft, pudgy tummy, he was pleased to find that you wearing no panties but was wetter than the lake he frequented.

“Want you to fuck this pussy so good…stretch it out f’r me, Rei…” begging with your decorated nails placed on your round cheeks as you pulled them apart to reveal that puckering hole and soaking entrance…making him hungry for both. Wasting no time, he’d grab a handful of that thin top and your waist to reign you in. With his teeth grimaced, he’d whisper in your ear with growls; feeding you heavy handed smacks to your ass in the process. Spanking you like a bad kid but doing so because you enjoyed every second. “That’s what you want, sugar? For me to fuck ya’ like a lil’ slut? Make you come all over this dick? That right, baby?” To which you’d nod profusely, never craving something so badly before in your life. Of course, he was happy to oblige..but you’d have to beg a bit, just because that sexy voice turned him on so bad. “Yes, daddy. Need you to fill my shit up too..nut all in this pussy. I ain’t come all this way for nothin.” And of course, that all but sold him. So with your inviting heat waiting for him and those Wranglers ruffled around his waist, Reiner pulled you in close before impaling you on his cock.

“Damn right, baby..so take all this dick.” Pressing a thumb to your tight little asshole as he pumped you full..one long, deep stroke after the next, coaxing out sticky cream and soft cries as you scratched at the wooden surface he had you planked across. Sliding in and out of that warmth like a perfectly fitting puzzle piece. The tight clutch you put around his shaft had him mesmerized. It didn’t help your case any when you constantly doted and bragged on how good he fucked you. “I swear you’re the only one who can get this pussy wet like this..” “..right there, daddy. You in my fucking spot..gonna make me come.” Of course, Reiner was loving every bit and only wanted to please his lady so as that big ass bounced against his pelvis and rippled like waves, he’d give you more slaps and try to maintain his pace. Even going as far as to make that tip kiss the inner corner of your cervix.“Give it to me then…nut f’r me, sweet girl. Let it all go.” And the second you did, juices flooded the floor as you squirted all over him. “Shitttt! That’s what I’m talking about, pretty girl. Make a mess of me..” grinning from ear to ear before housing his own seed inside of you. That pulsating cock still inside of you minutes later. Turning you around, he’d mark your lips with a sloppy kiss and look down at the aftermath.

“I swear, I ain’t never gonna be able to quit you, sugar. Just too damn sweet..”

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notjustjavierpena · 3 months

Text

Diner

A/N: My first darkfic and based on that one picture of Pedro in Freaky Tales. READ THE TAGS!!!!

Summary: You get more than you paid for during your visit to a roadside diner.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-con, degrading language, condescending language, blood and violence, threats of violence, forced masturbation, forced orgasm, forced creampie, reader does NOT enjoy this!

Word count: 3.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52941784

Diner

Something about roadside diners makes you feel like you are in an alternate universe. It starts the second that you step out of your car and onto the asphalt, a weird sensation of not being in the real world overtaking you as you listen to the cars drive by at a dizzying speed. There are a few cars here already, but you suspect that most of them belong to the people staying at the motel just next to the small and informal restaurant instead of people eating dinner. It is late after all, so late that you can see you are just in time for a coffee before they close.

You’ve been driving home in the summer heat for your sister’s wedding, crossing state lines for days now to make it in time, and it means quick dinners, cheap coffee, and sleeping in your car. At this point, you’ve actually come to like the greasy fried food and the coffee that almost resembles tar with how strong it is. It helps you regulate your body temperature in the car, forcing you to cool down because it’s scalding hot in your stomach.

A tiny bell rings as you walk through the door. The checkered tile floor seems slightly sticky as you move through the place with the taste of stale coffee already present on your tongue as if the setting has triggered a memory. You notice the single customer sitting in a booth along the window, all broad shoulders and sleeves rolled up as he eats two slices of toast with eggs and bacon, but you don’t think much of the man as much as you think about eating breakfast foods at night. It’s always oddly satisfying, weirdly rebellious.

You squeeze in between two chairs from the line along the counter. You brush away a few granules of sugar from it, smiling slightly as you are approached by what you assume is the only staff at this time.

“Just coffee?” The lady behind the counter asks as she notices you not looking at the menu and not checking out the pie underneath a glass dome to your left.

“That’d be great,” you reply.

“And no milk or nothin’?” She continues.

You shake your head no and look around at nothing of importance the second she walks away to start up the coffee machine. It gurgles a few moments later.

Behind you, the man has finished his meal. He gets out of the booth to use the restroom, leaving you to sip your coffee alone with the waitress who makes no effort to start up a conversation with you (then again, you don’t start chatting with her either).

Time passes. The song playing from the radio in the background ends. The stranger reemerges and shakes his hands dry on his way to his table again. He doesn’t sit but instead carries his plate to the counter.

“Thanks, Doris, great like always,” he smiles, turning to you briefly to acknowledge your presence. He nods in greeting.

“Anytime, Joel,” Doris blinks at him, batting her lashes. She is clearly infatuated, and you can understand why; the two of them seem to be about the same age. Joel is tall with broad shoulders in an open flannel with a t-shirt underneath, his hands look rough and used to hard labor, and his hair is slicked back by what you don’t know whether is gel or sweat but it looks like he has run his fingers through it several times today.

“Well, I’m off, see ya tomorrow,” he turns to go gather his things at the table where he has been eating. You think nothing more of it.

“Anything else, honey?” Doris asks and you shake your head.

“No thanks,” you say politely, “I’m all good.”

“I’ll have my smoke break then,” she states, untying her apron and hanging it on the wall only to proceed to dig out a package of cigarettes from the pocket on the front, “You can just leave the money on the counter when you leave.”

And then it’s just you and Joel and an eerie feeling settles in your stomach at being alone with a man you don’t know, especially in between cities and even moreso at night.

You glance over your shoulder to watch him carefully but he is just picking through his wallet to leave a tip on the table. You look straight ahead again and shake your head at how ridiculous you feel about your anxiety, rolling your eyes at how you could think such things about someone who is having eggs at midnight.

Still, something feels wrong. You steal another glance over your shoulder and see the table with the empty plate, and the crumbled bill beside it. What you don’t see is Joel, which is weird because you haven’t heard the bell from the door being opened and clo-

A rough hand settles on the back of your neck. It grips you hard until it hurts, causing you to crane your neck and gasp loudly into the room. Joel’s voice makes your skin crawl, “Fuck, you are pretty.”

You hear a deep inhale through the nose followed by a satisfied sigh, “Smell pretty too. Been driving all day alone?”

“What are you doing?” You are frozen to the spot. He has trapped you between the counter, two barstool chairs, and himself. The hand holding you in place is uncomfortable but mostly, its iron grip has started to make you lightheaded due to his thumb and index finger pressing into your carotid artery. It makes you not want to move in case he grabs harder.

“I just realized that I haven’t had dessert in a while ‘n’ pie just doesn’t seem to cut it,” he replies, breathing labored already from how he has control over what your body can or cannot do. The words make you squirm but you still, for some reason, haven’t thought about screaming for help.

“No,” your voice quivers and bravely you try to decline the offer, “I don’t want that. Please.”

“Afraid you’ll like it too much?” You can feel he has moved his head closer, can feel the smirk in his voice. You feel sick like you might actually puke if you weren’t working on an empty stomach.

“Doris’ll come back,” you reason.

“She’s closing up in ten,” he laughs as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard, “She’ll use every second of those ten minutes to have what she considers fresh air but I don’t think we need much longer, do you?”

You whimper, and then suddenly you’re on the move but it’s not by yourself. No. Joel is hauling you backward, moving you around like you weigh nothing, and causing your feet to stumble several times. However, he doesn’t seem bothered by your clumsiness caused by terror, just uses a bit more force until he can shove you down onto an empty table.

That’s when you feel panic starting to rise in your body. You start thrashing, grabbing at whatever you can reach on the table to throw it down onto the floor and make a racket. You cry too, shock setting in and causing tears to flow desperately as emotions become too much. This is it, you think, this is what prey must feel when they’re trying to escape.

Joel growls in anger, holding you roughly in place so your efforts are to no avail, “Shut the fuck up. Stop crying.”

You absolutely don’t. That is until your forehead and nose connect with the surface of the table. Joel has pushed you on the back of your head so harshly that your face has been violently knocked down onto the table, and it hurts, prickling in your nostrils and nausea settling more in your stomach. The impact makes you feel dizzy enough to not continue fighting him.

A sudden taste of iron fills your mouth. You are bleeding from your nose, you realize, and it replaces the salty taste of your tears and drips onto the surface of the table. Pathetically, you try grabbing at anything in front of you and you end up smearing the bloodstains across the white. It’s not the sight that makes you gag but the fact that Joel seems aroused by it.

“Relax,” he responds to your whine, “‘tis just a bit of blood.”

But that’s not what causes your noise. It’s the position you are in; it makes your ass stick out and Joel’s crotch rests against it whilst he reaches out for your hair, bunching it up in his strong hand and creating a makeshift ponytail to tug on. You try to make sense of what is happening but all you can focus on is how big he seems in his jeans, rock hard against you as he yanks your head up by the hair. It may be your foggy mind’s way of protecting yourself from realizing what this is, particularly because you had a brief thought earlier about how nice his hands would feel if they touched you. They feel horrible.

When he straightens behind you, his free hand starts tugging on your pants. He is rough in his movements but careful enough to make sure that nothing rips, knowing he shouldn’t leave evidence of your ravish behind.

“Please,” you slur with desperation.

“No begging now,” he purposely misunderstands, “I’ll give you what you need real soon, sweetheart.”

When your pants sit around your knees, he lets the hand go down between your legs. Your mind is suddenly very clear.

“Are you a virgin?” He asks with a dark smile evident in his voice. His hand skims along the inside of your thigh, and you feel your feet trying to move away. His fingertips are so close to where you don’t want them. He kicks your ankles hard enough to make you unable to breathe, unable to balance on your feet so you can’t even try to flee.

You whimper in reply.

The satisfied growl he lets out sends a shiver down your spine, cold sweat making you feel lightheaded.

“No,” you finally manage to stutter out, trying to convince yourself that replying is going to make the heartbeat in your chest less intense as you’ve made yourself less interesting to him. Instead, you realize that you have only disappointed him.

“Just when I got my hopes up,” he tuts, suddenly palming your cunt through your underwear. You want to scream and cry but somehow, you simply cannot and it dawns on you that your body is too scared of making him furious to do your most instinctive act of fighting back, “Can’t say I’m happy, but I am surprised at having a whore on my hands. Wait till I tell the guys back home ‘bout you, they’ll be so envious.”

His fingers curl around the fabric of your panties. He tugs them down your thighs and the fabric snaps at the violent yanks that he does. It was only the pants, you think, it was only those that needed to be saved for keeping up appearances.

The way the skin of his hand touches your bare thighs feels like fire, and you don’t know whether to feel relief that nothing has happened yet or become hysterical when your underwear sits around your knees too; you know the rest, know what he is about to do and now, you just have to wait for it to be over.

And then briefly, it’s gone but you don’t dare think that he might have changed his mind but when you lift your head, you can see him in the reflection of the window, sucking on his own fingers to wet them until they’re shiny with saliva.

“Stay still,” he commands, and the hand on the back of your neck slides down so he can rest his forearm on the small of your back to still hold you down. His wetted fingers go right between your legs to search for your clit, and he presses down on it until you let out a whimper from a sudden state of arousal slowly taking over your body.

He rubs you off for a few minutes where you fight every single nerve in your body to not enjoy it but suddenly you let out your first involuntary moan, pussy starting to wet against your will and shame setting in. You rest your cheek against the table, tears sliding down over your nose as you occasionally moan helplessly. Your poor treacherous body burns deep below your navel, and the tingling in your core makes you think that maybe, just maybe, it won’t be so bad.

“That’s it,” he says in a gentle voice, a tone that makes you hold back a gag, “Knew you wanted it, just needed a little encouragement.”

“Please,” you sob, “I can pay you.”

“I don’t want cash,” he replies simply, sliding his digits through your slick, “I want you, sweetheart, and it seems this pussy wants me too.”

Joel’s fingers leave you and you hear him suck his fingers clean with a hum. The air feels cool against your swollen cunt which is so wet by now that you start to believe, albeit barely, that a part of you wants this. How can you say you don’t when you are close to dripping?

“I’m gonna let go of you now but if you try anything, I’ll cut your fucking tits off with a steak knife, got it?” Joel’s threat doesn’t seem empty.

You nod, paralyzed, and he stretches. You shiver at the sound of his belt unbuckling and his zipper being pulled down. There’s a bit of shuffling and then you feel the blunt head of his dick poking into your ass.

He doesn’t waste his time it seems, because he rubs the tip through your wetness and starts to breach you. Color drains from your face at the realization of his size.

“No, no no no,” you pant as he pushes into you. He teases you open but only at first; you let out a sharp cry as he enters you fully and with no warning. The head had been a warning of how big he was going to be but now that he is sheathed inside of you to the brim, you feel like nothing could have ever prepared you for his size even if you had wanted him. He kisses your cervix, splits you open, and your cunt clenches in an attempt to push him out and pull him in.

“Fuck,” he moans and draws out the word, “Tight heaven.”

He fucks you like a ravenous animal and you turn into a helplessly moaning mess, held down to the point where your hips are hurting against the table because Joel uses all of his weight to pleasure himself with you.

His fingers dig into your hips enough to bruise and his zipper gnaws into the back of your thigh. You have never taken anyone as big as him before, and it’s almost an out-of-body experience to be stretched out again and again by him. He swears above you, rhythm faltering, every time you accidentally find a shred of pleasure in his thrusts.

You feel fucked out of your mind but you are stuck there, having to take each bruising thrust that sends pain shooting through your body each time Joel’s cock bumps the back of your cunt (which is every other crash of his hips due to his size).

“Ah,” you whimper shamefully when he nudges against your g-spot. It takes some of the pain away, and soon, you let out a breathless gasp. Would you actually enjoy him if circumstances had been different? If he’d chatted you up and booked a room at the motel next door?

You close your eyes, squeezing them shut. It leaves you to focus on the way that your cunt squelches from your wetness, how Joel grunts behind you as he continues driving into you.

“Listen to that, you really think your whore-pussy would sound like that if you didn’t want this?” He taunts.

“No, Joel,” you say without any tone to your voice.

“You wanna come, sweetheart? Touch yourself,” he pulls you back by your hips a little until you are able to move your hand to your crotch. His thrusts relent and bring you relief from your throbbing and pained muscles. You don’t move, and he grows impatient and cruel. You almost want to laugh at the contrast of his next line but you find yourself too scared of the unknown, “You think you get a choice here, you little bitch? Do it now.”

Reluctantly, your hand slides down between your legs but you still feel relief as you start touching yourself. In the moment, you try to remind yourself of what you like to do when it’s just you alone and you find that your cunt stirs with interest. It’s followed by a string of ahs as you begin to actually enjoy it, circling your clit with determination to finish.

“That’s it, wanna feel you milk me,” his breath is more ragged now. He is close you realize, and he is not going to pull out.

It feels shameful when you make yourself come, cunt setting off into spasms that should feel beautiful but just makes you hate yourself for enjoying the way they make you feel. You moan louder than intended, completely at the mercy of the pleasure that has been built up deep inside of you and is now coursing through your nervous system.

Joel seems to understand your conflict, radiating claustrophobic warmth as he speeds up his hips as if he is using your body to masturbate with you. His voice is breathy as he talks, he sounds nearly on the edge of coming, “Shh… It’s supposed to feel good. It should feel good.”

He finishes inside of you a moment later, warm and sticky with a looming threat of what could happen from this act. The groan he lets out is one you don’t think you will forget. He gives you his final thrusts, fucking you through each spurt of his cock, “Take it, oh fuck. Thaaat’s it.”

Time stands still after that. You don’t move despite him removing himself from you. Instead, you listen to him tugging himself back into his jeans, the rustling of the denim, and then the noise of his zipper and him buckling his belt.

After a moment more, his hands pull up off your shredded underwear and then he tugs your jeans up over your hips again. He hauls you up and holds your arms tightly so you don’t fall over once more. You don’t look at him and it seems to infuriate him. With a strong grip around your jaw, he forces your head towards him, “Hey, look at me.”

When you still don’t, he shakes your head a little, “Eyes here.”

You eventually follow through, vision blurry from how much you have cried. He scans your face, “You don’t tell anyone about this or I swear. I don’t usually hunt down pretty girls like you but I will. You go into your car and you drive away. I’ll watch you from here. Got it?”

Your body aches as you nod but your expression is blank, even when Joel pushes you out of his grip so you stumble and even when you see him stuff your panties into his pocket.

“Go,” he snaps when you’re still immovable.

You don’t know how but suddenly, you’re walking out the door, barely noticing where your feet hit the ground, and doing exactly what he has said. You probably shouldn’t even be driving let alone on the highway but you do until you feel nothing at all except his come dripping from your aching cunt.

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ilovepedro · 5 months

Text

frosted cookies | husband!frankie morales x wife!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~4.4k

Summary: You pack away an extra treat in your husband’s lunch. What happens when Frankie sees you’ve packed more than just some cookies? Cookies won’t be the only thing that’s frosted when he has his way with you.

Warnings: unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all!!), oral (f receiving), fingering, doggy style, missionary, praise kink, three (3) spanks, cum eating, teeniest bit of soft dom!Frankie, sickening fluff, after care, pet names (querida, hermosa, baby, etc), husband!Frankie being so in love and down bad for his wife, reader speaks some Spanish, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, some Spanish translations throughout.

A/N: can be read as part of the “just married” universe or a stand alone. did y’all think i forgot about a 500 follower treat?! hehehe i would never!! i’m back with a lil slice of domestic holiday bliss and smut with our guy, our husband! i’m just so down bad for Frankie, like there’s really no explaining myself. he’s everything. i want him so bad.🧎‍♀️anyway, happy Frankie friday everybody! hope y’all enjoy 🫶🏼 not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika

“Jesus, querida. How many cookies are you gonna bake?” Frankie asks before popping one into his mouth. “Francisco! Ya basta! (Enough) Those are for tomorrow!” You yell, smacking your husband’s hand away from getting anymore cookies.

After tomorrow, you and Frankie are off for 10 days. The stress and anticipation of the festivities and just spending uninterrupted time together energizes you to work rapidly. You’ve been baking all day for your office’s Christmas party, whipping up an array of cookies and packaging them up to give out to your coworkers.

Flour, powdered sugar, and icing bags are scattered throughout the counter. A bowl of icing sitting in the middle of the island and cookie cutters next to 3 trays of cookies. Powdered sugar coats your hands and icing splattered across your apron.

“Lo siento, bebita, (I'm sorry, baby girl)” he says through a muffled mouthful of cookie, rubbing circles on your lower back while he peppers kisses to your shoulder.

“I have to make sure there’s enough for everyone. 50 is good right? The whole office will be there, and I don’t want anyone to feel left out,” you ramble as you roll out the last batch of dough in between parchment paper. Frankie rubs up and down your arms as you cut them into shapes.

“50 is plenty, baby. You work too hard, mi amor. Is this the last batch?”

“Yeah, I’ll finally be done after this one comes out the oven,” you say as you place them onto the cookie sheet.

“Good. You need to rest, and I wanna have my wife to myself.” You turn around in his embrace and wrap your arms around his neck. “You sure no one will feel left out?”

A small gentle smile splays on his lips as he readjusts his grip on your hips. “No one will feel left out, baby. I promise. And if they do, then fuck ‘em. They don’t know how hard you work, or how kind you truly are,” he softly says. A relieved smile creeps onto your face as a toothy grin appears on his. He places a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips, you getting lost in him as the taste of him mixes with the sugary cookie he’d just eaten. Both of you sighing into one another, never getting enough of each other.

The oven timer dings, startling the both of you and breaking the kiss as you jump back a bit. The two of you giggling like a pair of children, Frankie places one last chaste kiss to your lips as you head to the oven. Feeling a playful swat to your ass, you turn around and playfully scold your husband as you remove the cookies out of the oven - the aroma of sugar and spice filling the air.

“How long’s this last batch gonna take, mi vida?” Frankie asks as you place the final batch of cookies in the oven. “Only 15 minutes, mi amor. Tener paciencia (have patience),” you say through a fit of giggles, laughing at your husband’s impatience. He scoffs, rolling his eyes as you stride towards him. Pulling him in for another kiss, his hands freely roam down to your ass, giving it a playful squeeze. Laughing into him, you pull away as you bark out a belly laugh, your husband mirroring you.

“Could you help me clean up, please baby? The faster we clean, the faster I’m all yours,” you taunt. “Of course, mi vida, you don’t even have to ask. Although, the incentive is nice,” he says with a smirk. The two of you swiftly maneuver throughout the kitchen while the cookies bake. Frankie clearing the counter as you wipe it down, and washing and drying dishes together - working in tandem to tidy up your kitchen. The oven timer dings once more, Frankie washing and drying the remaining dishes as you remove the last batch and set them on the cooling rack. As you remove your oven mitts, Frankie tosses the dish rag onto the counter and swoops behind you, engulfing you in his broad, taut arms while he litters kisses along your neck.

“All done, mi amor?” He asks against your skin, his mustache tickling you along with his eagerness, eliciting a laugh from you. “All done, mi amor,” you laugh, wrapping your arm around his neck to twirl the curls at the nape of his neck. “Vamos, mi esposa,” he says, whisking you away and up the stairs.

Laughter bubbling over the two of you as you rush up the stairs.

After tomorrow, it’s 10 days of this - uninterrupted bliss with each other.

Frankie plops down on the chair, groaning as time ticks by agonizingly slow. He runs a hand over his face, his wedding ring making contact with his cheek reminds him of you - just 4 more hours until he’s home with you.

Cracking open his lunchbox, he smiles as he spots the usual yellow sticky note that you pack in his lunch which lay atop some of the freshly baked cookies that you made last night. Picking it up, he reads the note:

“Enjoy your lunch, mi esposo hermoso. Can’t wait for you to frost my cookie when you get home ;)

-Con amor, su esposa”

Beneath it, a polaroid of you dressed in a crimson red babydoll with white fur lining the bust. It leaves little to the imagination as you display your breasts to the camera, a coy smile on your lips as white frosting runs down your lips and onto your chin, teasingly biting into one of the cookies you baked.

His breath hitches in his throat, eyes widening as he takes in your form. He’s hard as a fucking rock, his lunch now completely forgotten.

“‘S matter, boss? Wife forget to pack your juice or something?” A stupid rookie asks, laughing too hard at his own joke as he creeps up behind Frankie to catch a glimpse inside his lunchbox. Frankie immediately drops the polaroid back inside and flips the lid closed before the rookie can see it.

“Shut the hell up, Daniel,” Frankie grumbles as he rises to his feet, stomping out of the break room and into his tiny, cluttered office. He typically eats lunch here, wanting to get away from the fumes that permeate the shop, but the anticipation of your time off together made him antsy - seeking out a place without constant reminders of you as the day drags on.

That did absolutely nothing. Your boudoir polaroid having made his day better and worse simultaneously. You looked nothing short of a dream, but now his impatience is getting the better of him as his mind wanders to all the things he plans to do to you tonight. He groans, his cock still half hard as he unravels his lunch. He huffs sticking the polaroid in his wallet, aggressively nibbling at his lunch.

Could this day go by any slower?

He opens the door, tossing his keys into the bowl as he shuts and locks it. Trudging inside, he toes off his boots, pushing them to the side as he takes in your fully decorated home. His heart swells at the sight, knowing you were off work early today after your office party. Meaning you probably spent the entire afternoon decorating.

Garlands adorn every wall, the tree now fully decorated and the Christmas village sits atop the mantle. Twinkling lights warmly illuminate the room. The sprig of mistletoe hangs above the entryway to the kitchen, the smell of dinner and more baked goods permeating through the air mingling with the fresh pine scent of the tree.

You’ve gone full Christmas-mode and he can’t get enough of your domesticity - your ability to make every single thing you touch feel like home.

“Frankie?!” You yell faintly from the kitchen.

“Hermosa, I’m home!” He shouts as he shrugs off his brown utility jacket. Footsteps bound from the kitchen and into the hall. There you stand, in all your domestic glory with your apron around your front and a bit of flour on your cheek.

You beam at him, happy your husband is finally home for the week. Your office is closed and so is the shop for the following week and then some for the holiday, now you have him all to yourself for the next 10 days. Practically flinging yourself into his arms, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a searing kiss. He laughs at your eagerness, his cock twitching in his pants as you tug him closer by his soft curls, deepening the kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, a soft moan escaping you and into Frankie.

It’s unclear who breaks the kiss first, but the both of you are heaving, panting for air. The smile returning to your face, a smug look appearing on your husband’s face.

“Hi, baby. I missed you.” Your hands snake up his chest and you remove his cap from his head, setting it on the table by the door, carding your fingers through his hair. His smile softens, eyes gleaming with love. “Hi, mi amor. I missed you too. I see you got up to some stuff while I was gone,” he says, swirling circles on your lower back. You giggle, knowing you can be a bit elaborate when it comes to decorating.

“‘S not too much?” You ask. He quickly shakes his head. “Never, mi amor,” he nearly whispers, reassuring you before capturing your lips in another kiss. Walking you backwards into the kitchen, he presses you up against the kitchen counter, catching a whiff of something baking in the oven again.

He pulls back, forehead resting against yours as he swipes away the flour that’s smudged on your cheek. “You’re still baking, mi vida? I thought you were finished,” he asks. “I am, but I wanted to make you something, a treat to celebrate our vacation,” you ramble. A chuckle rumbles in his sturdy chest.

“Got the most delicious treat right here,” he tsks, you chuckle rolling your eyes at his cheesiness as butterflies erupt in your belly. His hardening length presses against your core as he dives in to litter your neck with kisses. “Even got a picture to prove it,” he rasps against you. A small gasp escapes you.

So he did see the picture.

“Oh really? Can I see this picture, amor?” Your voice breathy and titillating, feigning oblivion as a smirk plastered on your face while he sucks on your neck.

“I’m sure you know what it looks like. In fact, you’re gonna let me recreate it with the real thing, baby.” His voice low and husky now as his clothed, hard cock ruts into you.

A wave of arousal pools in your panties. “I am?” You breathlessly ask, still keeping up the innocent act.

“Mhmm. Gonna be covered in me. Isn’t that what you wanted, princesa? Huh? You couldn’t wait for me to get home and frost your cookie, hermosa?” He asks as his lips ghost over yours now, emphasizing the reference to the note you’d put in his lunchbox this morning. You snort, eyes shutting as heat courses through your veins as he quotes the note, and warmth blooming in your belly.

A light smack to your thigh reels you back in, eyes flying open. His eyes filled with lust, pupils darkening. Your eyes glossy and hazy, feeling tipsy just off his embrace, his words.

“Y-yes, Frankie. ‘S what I wanted - want. Want you s-so bad, mi amor,” you mumble against his ear as he resumes peppering kisses along your chest. Humming against you, your words going straight to his cock, which you feel as he presses into your core a bit harder.

“Want you so bad, too, princesa. Been wanting you all day. Y’know how hard it was to keep it together seeing that picture of you? Look so fucking sexy, fuck. Had to stop myself from cumming in my jeans like a fucking teenager,” he mutters into your ear. You giggle, taking great joy in knowing your husband wants you just as bad as you do, maybe even more.

He bites down on your earlobe, your giggles quickly dissipating into a moan. “But what you did today was so bad, mi vida. Distracted me all fucking day from work, could barely concentrate. I think you just made it on the naughty list. What do you think, baby? Are you naughty or nice?”

“N-nice. Nice, baby,” you whimper as Frankie unties your apron and smoothly tosses it on the counter.

“Mmmm, you sure about that? You gonna be a nice, good girl for me and let me have my way with you?” You furiously nod, your neediness growing into an impatient monster.

He laughs at your eagerness, relishing in how needy you are for him. “Come on, princesa. Show me how good you are,” he rasps before releasing you from his grasp, grabbing your hand as you two stumble out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Excitement stirring within you as he leads you to your room.

Frankie flings the door open, eagerly bringing you into his embrace again. He cups your cheeks, leaning in as his lips engulf yours in a messy, heated kiss. It’s all tongue as teeth gnash together, moans flying out from both of you while you strip each other down. Frankie groans as he discards your bra onto the floor. You can’t help the moan that escapes you as you shuck off your husband’s briefs, his hard cock springing free, weeping and red.

“On the bed, hermosa,” he demands, his timbre husky and low. You scramble onto the bed, laying on your back, displaying yourself for your husband. “Spread your legs.”

Your brain on autopilot, operating as if Frankie has a remote to control your actions.

Legs spread, the cool air of the room hits your sopping core, a shiver running down your spine. Frankie licks his lips, pupils blown black and wide swirling with lust. He stalks towards you, laying down and settling himself in front of your aching pussy. He grabs your thighs, placing them on either side of his head. The frigidity of his wedding band burning into your skin, contrasting the blaze that burns from within you as you anticipate your husband’s next move.

You pant as the excitement transforms into a forest fire within your core, Frankie so close to where you desperately need him. He presses firm kisses to your thighs, your breath catching in your throat again. Kissing and nipping at your thighs, your neediness causes your hips to involuntarily buck into Frankie - his nose catching on your clit for a split second. A shocking loud moan escapes you as Frankie pushes you back down on the bed.

“Just like you told me last night, mi vida. And like how I had to tell myself after what you pulled this afternoon: tener paciencia,” he practically growls against your thighs. You whine as his teasing resumes. You know this is payback for the polaroid, making him wait all day for some relief. Your husband is the most patient man you know, even when he wants nothing more than to take you any chance he can get.

His desire for you though, constantly burning, so you know this must be killing him too. However, the sweet revenge of seeing you fall apart and writhe under him, begging him to do something is the most delicious reward.

“Frankie,” you desperately sigh, eyes closing as he presses kisses to your mound. “When have I ever not given you what you wanted? Hmm, baby?” He asks against your core, your eyes opening and to lock with his gaze. “Never, mi amor,” you nearly whisper, it comes out much more rushed than intended.

“Tranquila, mi vida. I’m gonna take care of you and this pretty pussy. I got you, baby,” he says with one last kiss to your thigh. Without preamble, he licks a long, languid stripe up your folds. A relieved moan tumbling from your lips as you bury your head further into the pillow. He repetitiously licks up your glistening core, your clit throbbing for some attention. Your husband knows your body like the back of his hand, as if he can read your mind.

He flicks your precious pearl with a steady rhythm, wrapping his lips around it. You twitch underneath him, eyes heavy and glazed.

“Oh fuck, Frankie!” You keen as your hands fly to tug on his hair, his rhythmic, skilled tongue bringing you closer to the edge. Your weeping cunt clenches around nothing as a wave of slick seeps from your hole. He snakes a hand up to cup your breast, flicking and suckling your clit as he rolls your nipple in between his thick, calloused fingers, alternating breasts. Your breathing is ragged as you moan, Frankie groaning and humming into you. The vibrations rumbling from within him launching you higher into your climax, teetering on lift off.

“Feels s-so f-fucking good, Frankie. Always s-so fucking g-good,” you babble. He pulls away for a second, his chin coated in your slick. “Come on, baby. Know you’re close. Let go, hermosa,” he rasps right above your swollen cunt. He dives back in, moving his hand from your breast to your entrance, two fingers sliding home with the amount of slick pouring from you.

A sharp gasp escapes you, eyes rolling back at the welcomed intrusion as Frankie rapidly and steadily alternates between sucking and flicking your clit. His fingers hitting that spongy spot only his fingers and cock can reach. The coil in your belly snaps as you’re launched into your orgasm, stars appearing behind your eyes as your vision blurs white hot.

Frankie helps you ride out your high as you scream and writhe beneath him, lapping up every last drop of slick gushing from your throbbing pussy. Desperately trying not to rut his hips into the mattress, he groans at the sweet, tangy taste of you that he can never get enough of. Your thighs tremble as you slowly return back to Earth, whimpering as Frankie presses soft kisses to your thighs.

“Did so good for me, baby. Always so fucking good for me,” he hushes you, peppering kisses up your body.

You fight to keep your eyes open, catching sight of your husband soaked in your release as his mustache and patchy beard gleams in the warm glow of the bedroom.

Pulling him down, you connect your lips with his, both of you moaning into one another. Wrapping your arms around his broad, strong shoulders as you tug on his curls. His mouth licking into yours, letting you taste your sweet slick on your tongue. Sweet and heady, the kiss melds into something sinful as you feel Frankie’s hard, leaking cock rubs right above your core. Precum smearing on your belly, Frankie pulls back and moans at the friction.

“Not done with you yet, querida,” he says gruffly as he lifts himself off you. “Turn around,” he demands. You recognize that tone: he’s gonna have his way with you tonight. A shiver runs down your spine as a new rush of arousal burns brightly in your core. You swiftly lay on your stomach.

“On your knees, baby.” His voice husky and firm. You readjust yourself and settle on your knees, balancing yourself on your forearms. Feeling the mattress dip behind you, another spark of arousal jolts in your pussy, your belly warm and full of anticipation. You can hear Frankie pumping himself in his fist as he lines his hips up with yours.

“See, you can be a good girl. Knew you could do it, mi vida.” You moan at his praise. His large hands caress your ass, engulfing your cheeks in each hand, admiring the view. You teasingly wiggle your ass, Frankie-drunk giggles bubbling over your lips and spilling into the pillow. A smack comes down on your ass, the sting of it making your pussy throb. Moaning as you turn your head to the side, locking eyes with Frankie.

His chocolate irises invisible, eyes completely darkened and filled to the brim with lust.

“Don’t start.” You nod, drool pooling under your mouth, your patience wearing thin. “Be good, baby,” he rasps as he lines his cock up with your entrance. His tip prodding your aching hole, as one of his hands rests on your ass. He slowly slides in, taking his time bottoming out. Both of you moaning in tandem as his cock splits you open, the sting blurring the lines of pain and pleasure. You squeeze around him as he fully sheathes himself inside you, never fully getting used to his size despite being married to him now.

“Alright, baby. Alright, baby,” He hisses, roughly kneading your ass. “Come on now. Relax, baby. I got you,” he calmly whispers. You feel yourself relax, unclenching and releasing him from your vice grip. “There we go. Good girl,” he says as he leans down to press a kiss behind the shell of your ear.

He slowly slides out from you, nearly pulling out all the way until he slams his hips back into yours. His cock punching your cervix.

“Frankie!” You gasp, moaning as you grip the sheets. He repeats the motion, grunting as he cants his hips. “Tightest, sweetest fucking pussy ever. Fuck, always feel so fucking good, baby. You were made for me, made to take my cock. Huh, querida?” He asks, breathing ragged as he fucks in and out of you. You nod and moan in agreement, words escaping you as he brings you close to your second orgasm. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to slowly creep up on you, still reeling from the sensitivity of your previous one.

Another smack hits your ass, clenching around him in your tight heat. You love when Frankie gets a bit rough with you.

“Words, querida. Come on, you were doing so good,” he taunts. You swallow through your moans, unaware of the desperate tears of pleasure that were pooling in your eyes.

“Y-yes, baby. Made for you, made for your cock. S-so fucking good to me, Frankie. L-luckiest girl in the w-world,” you babble. You feel him twitch inside you before he pulls out.

Whining at the loss of your husband’s cock, you’re suddenly being flipped on your back. Before you can give what’s happening a second thought, Frankie slides back into you. Your calves pressed against his strong chest, your ankles resting atop his taut shoulders as he bends you in half. His pace rapidly picking up, his thrusts growing sloppy.

“‘S right, baby. Made for me. I’m the luckiest man in the world, querida. Won the wife lottery,” he rasps lowly, pressing a kiss to your calf.

The love you have for this man is overwhelming. His existence constantly gracing your mind, his unwavering support, his unconditional love, never feeling like you’re not enough for him, his kindness, his patience, how gentle he is with you even when he’s roughing you up.

“Eres la esposa más hermosa y perfecta del mundo. (You're the most beautiful and perfect wife in the world) So lucky to call you my wife, baby,” he grunts, punctuating each word with his thrusts. His sweet words toss you over the edge, fat tears of euphoria and love cascade down your cheeks as you scream his name.

An endless stream of slick seeps from your cunt, coating Frankie in your release. The squelching sound filling the air mixed with pants and moans is sinful, obscene.

“Fuck yes, baby. Give it to me, all of it. Soak my cock, querida. So fucking good - you, this pussy, our life, fuck yes,” he babbles. You mindlessly move your legs from his hold to wrap around his middle, bringing him in closer as you ride out your high.

“Love you so much, Frankie. Best husband in the world, come on, mi amor. Cum for me, need your cum,” you whine, giving him one last good squeeze. Frankie fills you up with half his load before pulling out and coating your mound in his cum. Endless moans streaming from you both. Frankie cums for a long time.

The picture really did a number on him.

Ropes of his spend coats your sex and your belly. Unable to control yourself, you reach down and swipe two fingers through his cum and lick them clean. Relishing the delicious, salty taste of your husband. Frankie groans as he sees you suck your fingers clean, gathering cum on his fingers and stuffing it back into your cunt. You moan around your fingers at the feeling of his thick, long fingers stuffing you full of his cum.

Releasing your fingers with a pop, Frankie pounces on you - his fingers brushing against your lips, prying your mouth open. You suck them into your mouth, an animalistic groan rumbling from within you as you taste the combination of you two. He removes his fingers, adjusting himself to pin you down, caging you in between his large biceps.

He dives in for a kiss, it’s slower - savoring the taste of you and him on your tongue as he soaks in the love which radiates off your body and into his soul. “Love you so much, mi vida. Para siempre (Always),” he whispers against your lips. You cup his cheeks, a soft smile on your lips as your eyes glimmer with contentment and love.

“Para siempre,” you repeat. Another firm, lingering kiss is pressed to your lips before he rises to his feet, padding to your shared bathroom. The faucet turns on, your usual routine of aftercare beginning. Frankie returns with the warm rag, gently cleaning you up.

“Frosted your cookie pretty good, huh?” He asks with a smirk on his lips, curls in disarray.

You bark out a belly laugh, unable to control your laughter at your husband’s stupid joke.

“Francisco!” You squeal. Frankie tsks and rolls his eyes. “Oh after all the shit we just did, that’s where you draw the line?!” He playfully asks, a toothy grin on his face.

“No, I just thought you forgot about that stupid note!” You say through your laughter, Frankie bursting into a fit of giggles with you. “Wasn’t stupid, and how could I ever forget that and that picture?” He asks as he continues to clean you up.

“Speaking of, I’m not even gonna question when and how you took that picture, but next time, I’m helping you,” he says as he rises up and walks back into the bathroom to discard the rag into the laundry basket. “Whatever you say, mi amor,” you tease from the bed.

He returns, playfully pouncing on the bed beside you. Another fit of giggles erupts from you.

“That’s right, baby. Whatever I say,” he says with a wink and a smile, interlacing your fingers with his - toying with your wedding ring as he places a chaste kiss to your lips before saddling up beside you.

i love husband!Frankie sm 😫😔

wrote this on a bit of a whim, i had no idea what i wanted to do, i just knew i wanted to write a lil christmasy somethin-somethin for y'all 🩷

i hope y'all enjoyed!!! thank you for reading 🫶🏼

tag list: @nostalxgic @sweetercalypso @undrthelights @gracieheartspedro @jenispunk @joelsgreys @bastardmandennis @party-hearses @tinygarbage @mandoisapunk @javierpena-inatacvest @pedgito @tupelomiss @pedrostories @harriedandharassed

#nini’s 500 follower celebration #happy frankie friday #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #husband!frankie

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southernbluebellereader · 4 months

Text

Peach Pie and Cream

Jack Reacher x F! Southern Waitress Reader (Amazon TV show, Alan Ritchson)

Warning: Some fighting, suggestive descriptions, cutesy

Summary: Our giant man Reacher meets a charming young waitress :) and takes care of people ;)

Word Count: ~2,115 words

A/N: There will be a part 2 eventually lol

Master List - Tag List Sign-Up (tags at the bottom)

“What can I get you, sugar?”

God, the way she called him “Sugar” practically dripped from her lip-gloss covered lips like hot honey. Her breasts threatening to spill out of her lacy unpadded bra - it’s dark color barely showing through her low-cut white top.

He knew not to look, he shouldn’t, he couldn’t.

But one peek wouldn’t hurt.

It wasn’t even seven-thirty in the morning when she’d walked over to him with a pen and a little notepad.

Reacher sat up, his body erect as she spoke so sweetly to him. His eyes quickly glanced at her bosom, then made eye contact with her, showing a crooked smile, “Good morning, what are your specials?”

Y/N gave him a small smile as she caught the flicker in his eyes as he lifted them to meet yours. “Our breakfast specials include the garlic biscuit sliders with chicken, sausage, or ham…” She leaned over slightly and pointed on the menu on the table at the various specials.

Y/N’s perfume smelled so sweet. Hints of peaches and vanilla.

No. He can’t be distracted. He had to meet Neagly later.

He smiled as he looked back up at her, he didn’t hear half of what Y/N just said about the menu, just glancing at the worn out name tag that said her name. Her cheeks blushed slightly as he looked at her, the two of them were rather close.

Smiling at her, he asked, “I’ll have the garlic biscuit with the sausage special. Can I get extra bacon and a slice of your peach pie?”

“Yes, sir, you can. You want ice tea or coffee to drink?”

“Coffee is fine. Just black.”

She quickly glanced down at his large and firm chest and then back up at his eyes. He smirked even more.

Y/N bit her lower lip and then stood upright, writing his order down, “Sure thing, honey. I’ll be right back in a few.”

And those few minutes took an eternity. Reacher’s thighs began to itch as he watched her walk back to the back counter, leaning over so she could give the chef his order through the heating lamps, blushing in playful annoyance, with the cook winking and pursed lips, making kissing noises at her until she rolled her eyes and sighed, shaking her head.

He barely knew her but the sight of the cook irritated him. That’s no way to treat you - even if it was banter between coworkers. He’d been in town for merely a few hours.

He tried to look away. He really did. But the way her hips swayed and her chest moved, her apron tight and snug around her waist, her soft body spilling out from the sides of the apron and the top of her jeans. Every time she stood by a table to take an order, she always shifted her weight to her left, her left hip pushing out of the top of her jeans.

He always liked a full woman.

Chuckling to himself, he turned slightly to keep himself from boring holes on her ass. He glanced out the window but was thankfully disturbed by the smell of her and the food he ordered.

“Here we got today’s special with extra bacon and a cup o’joe, hot and ready just for you, honey. I’m all out of peach pie but I got one coming out of the oven any secon’ now. You want some ice cream with that pie?” She laid his food down gently, he gave you a grin and thanked you, “Careful, plate’s hot, honey.”

“Ice cream would hurt my teeth but I’ll take it since you suggested it.” Reacher caught her blush.

“I’ll make a note of it. Enjoy your food and let me know if ya need anything, ok?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled and picked up his utensils.

She winked at him and walked away, picking up a pot of coffee to replenish cups of other patrons and swatting away advances from men in their sixties on her way back to the back counter.

After a while, Y/N walked back with a plate of peach pie covered in a large scoop of vanilla ice cream and placed it in front of him.

“One large piece of fresh peach pie with a heaping scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream for the gentleman,” She said cheerfully and replenished his coffee.

He couldn’t help but smile at her, “Why on earth would you work here?” He asked bluntly, but with a soft chuckle at the end.

“Well, I got bills to pay. Just like everyone else.” She chuckled. “You ain’t got no bills?”

God, he’d do anything to hear Y/N laugh again.

“No, I don’t.”

“No bills at all?” She shook your head slightly, smiling still, thinking he’s joking.

“I have no reason to lie.”

She stared at him, not quite sure if she actually believed him or not. Most of her customers told her a few wild things here and there. But no one around these parts looked quite like him.

He was a behemoth of a man standing taller than the green giant on a can of peas, bigger and more muscular than those lumberjacks on those Brawny paper towels. His one arm was probably the size of one of her soft and plush thighs that seemed to be restricted on those skinny jeans she’s wearing.

“Aight.” She chuckled again. Her name was called, and she glanced at a group of young men about your age who dog-whistled and hollered at her. Y/N turned back around to Reacher and forced a smile, “You enjoy your pie, sir, I’ll be back in a bit with your bill. Just holler if you need anything, yeah?”

“You know them?” Reacher suddenly turned serious. His attention was on those young men who banged on the table, demanding that she serve them.

“I-I’m sorry about them, I’ll tell them to quiet down in a minute. They’re just a little rowdy-“

“That’s not what I asked. Do you know them?” He asked again, looking up at her. Her demeanor changed. Embarrassment. She could pick out that pleather jacket out from a crowd.

Blushing slightly in embarrassment, she answered, “I know one of them… that one in the sport’s jacket. The rest are his little friends. But I’ll tell them to-“

Before she could finish, Reacher stood up from his seat, his mere size making you gasp. She hadn’t realized how large he actually was until he stood up, she hadn’t seen him when he first walked in.

“Sir- please you don’t have to talk to them, what are you doin-“

“Your name is Y/N?”

“Y-Yes…” she clutched the handle of the coffee pot to make sure she didn’t drop it. He glanced down at her and gave her a half-smirk, “Just go stay behind the counter and put the coffee back on the machine so it doesn’t get cold.”

Not knowing what to think, Y/N did what he asked, the other waitresses following suit, other customers either staying in their seats or moving away as they watched Reacher walk up to the group of rowdy young men who still tried to get your attention.

He grabbed a chair and sat it by the edge of the table and sat down. Even sitting down, his large body frame towered over them. He didn’t say anything at first but looked at them smugly for a moment as they all stared at him.

The main culprit looked like he had a vein about to pop out of his forehead, “Can I help you?”

“Any reason you need Y/N to help you?”

“She’s a waitress, and I’ve been trying to get her number for a hot minute - she works here, of course she’s going to serve us.” He scoffed.

“I don’t appreciate you calling her over like she’s a dog, Pleather.”

—

“This will just sting a little-“

“Y/N, I’m fine-“

“No you ain’t, Reacher. Your brow and your lip is all busted up and that one guy had a knife.” Y/N shook her head as she cleaned up his brow with some alcohol and then put a small bandage on his forehead.

Reacher smiled at her the whole time as he let her patch him up. She’d taken him off to the side. Moaning in the distance outside, incoherent cursing could be heard from the parking lot as the group of young men eventually stood up from the ground and made it back to their car. The main culprit was hanging out in the parking lot, looking through the window at Y/N and Reacher. He spit on the ground before finally going back to his car.

“But I’m serious, Reacher… you ain’t have to do that…” Once she finished, Y/N put the extra bandages back in the First Aid kit and looked at him with concern.

“Well, I did it anyway. And last I checked, you’re not a dog.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile and then patted his shoulder. “You’re sweet. Sorry about your pie, the ice cream is all melted. I’ll get you a new one.”

“You eat that new one, I’ll eat mine.” Reacher was not one to waste food if he could help it - especially when trouble seemed to follow him. Smiling softly, she nodded and patted his shoulder before going back behind the counter and cutting her own slice of pie as Reacher walked back to his seat, waiting and watching as Y/N walked back and sat opposite of him.

Like teenagers, they couldn’t keep eye contact while trying to eat their peach pie.

“That was some military fightin’ back there, Reacher? Is it ok if I call you Reacher?” Y/N managed to muster out, clearing his throat and looking up at him.

Chuckling softly, Reacher nodded, “Yeah, I was in for a while.” He paused for a moment, watching her eat. The stories she must’ve heard from people. The restaurant was quiet again. She looked up at him, giving him a small smile. “Jack is fine too.”

“Jack? That’s your first name?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Jack Reacher.” She said. She was quiet for a second as she examined him. Taking in his appearance. Committing him to memory. She sucked the inside of her cheek as she tilted her head. Savoring his name, as if she took a bite of him like she did that pie. The sweetness in her voice dripping from her lips as she said his whole name. Sweeter than the half-eaten peach pies sitting before them.

“I like it. Hard to forget a name like that. It’s different. You stayin’ here long, Jack?” She scooped the last bit of pie and placed the spoon face down on her tongue, sucking off whatever peach pie remnants were left on the spoon before placing the spoon on her plate.

Very few people’s opinions mattered to Reacher, he barely knew Y/N but it made him smile when she said his name and that she liked his name. It gave him an unusual feeling. Couldn’t help but wonder what peach pie would taste like when it’s on her tongue.

“Just passing through.” He leaned back once he finished his slice of pie, admiring the woman in front of him. Her lipgloss still glistened. Her eyes sparkled. Her breasts barely contained in her bra.

“That’s unfortunate. I would’ve loved to see you again, Jack.” She smiled when she took notice of him admiring her. It was a different type of admiration. “Can I call you?”

“Don’t have a phone.”

“Can I send you a letter?”

“Don’t have an address.”

“Well, damn, how will I talk to you and get to know you when you leave? Will this be the last I see of Jack Reacher, the man who saved my life?”

“I’ll come back tonight.” Reacher chuckled, smirking at her.

Y/N chuckled and then leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms on the table, making the softness in her breasts very obvious as they pressed up. “Is that so? Well, would you like me to tell you the dinner specials now or later?”

“What time to do you get off?”

“After dinner tonight. Would you like to join me for dinner?”

“I should be asking you that.” Reacher mirrored her actions, leaning forward, his massive arms made of military grade steel rested on the table. Their faces were mere inches apart.

“Well, I asked first.”

Reacher wasn’t one to pursue women. But Y/N? From the little time he got to interact with her, he might hang around this little country town a little while longer.

TAG LIST

@redpool @mykneeshurt

#Jack Reacher #alan ritchson #jack reacher x reader #jack reacher fanfic #jack reacher fan fiction #jack reacher Alan ritchson #jack reacher headcanons #jack reacher amazon #jack reacher amazon prime #reacher #reacher x reader #reacher amazon

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cevansbrat0007 · 4 months

Text

Cross-Country Christmas

Summary: When Ari is left stranded at the airport on Christmas Eve, you find yourself in need of a little holiday miracle...

Warnings: Light Angst, Mature Themes, Angst, Ari Being A Menace, Holiday Themes, Smut, Arguments, Oral Sex (fem rec), Spanking (mentioned), Pet Names, Cursing, Violent Thoughts, Minors DNI

A/N: Full story! Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

2:00pm, Christmas Eve – Bell’s Creek, Texas

You couldn’t believe this was happening. After spending the last several days out of town with his family, Ari had been due to fly back to Bell’s Creek tonight so that the two of you could spend the holiday together.

Your first Christmas as a couple.

But that was before the surprise arrival of the severe winter storm that was currently sweeping through the Midwest, resulting in numerous canceled flights that had left thousands stranded across the country – including your handsome Bounty Hunter.

“Are they at least trying to get you on another flight, or are you just shit out of luck?” Putting the phone on speaker, you set it on the counter so that you can go back to rolling out more dough for your next pie.

“Well, the airline is being a little evasive.” Ari admits, blowing out a heavy breath. You can practically hear him raking an agitated hand through his chestnut locks. “But with this storm comin’ in, I’m gettin’ the sense that I’m most likely fucked until tomorrow. Maybe a little longer.”

“This is exactly why you should’ve just stayed at your sister’s place.” You sniffle, blinking away tears as you wield your rolling pin with a touch more force than necessary.

“Bird.” You can tell he’s doing his best to keep hold of his patience.

“Oh, don’t “Bird” me.”

“Bird.” This time your name is spoken with a slightly more authoritative note. It’s one that your body recognizes almost immediately. “Please don’t start with me, okay? I’m not in the mood.”

Too bad you weren’t neccessarily in the mood to obey today.

“I’m just saying.” You continue, feeling more pissed at mother nature than anything else. “If you would’ve stayed with Evelyn and the kids at least you would’ve been able to be with your family on Christmas.” You toss the pin in the sink, wincing at the loud clatter it makes. “Now you’ll probably be stuck all alone, sleeping with a bunch of grumpy strangers at the flippin’ airport!”

“That’s enough of the sass, baby.” Ari grunts.

“It’s not sass if it’s the truth, Ari.” You hum, peering over at the apples you’ve got soaking in a bowl filled with 7-Up.

“Sweetheart.” The soft rebuke rolls easily off his tongue. “I made a promise to spend Christmas Day with you – all wrapped up in you – and it’s one I intend to keep. Somehow.” He tacks on the last bit, which unknowingly brings a smile to your lips.

“At this rate, you’re gonna be spending at least part of the holiday sleeping at your gate.”

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath.

“Want me to call the airline, sugar?” You ask as you go to rest your elbows on the counter so you can attempt to stretch the muscles in your lower back. “See if I can fight with ‘em enough so they at least put you up in a nice hotel so that you can get a good night’s rest?”

“Nah, baby. They got me on standby and all that. I’m trying to get away from this shithole as soon as possible.” While you appreciated his determination, not even your big, bad Bounty Hunter could beat a snowstorm.

“Hey! Omaha is not a shithole.” You chuckle, feeling a little defensive on behalf of a city you’d never visited. “I looked ‘em up. They’ve got some amazing museums.” You fish an apple slice out of the bowl and pop it into your mouth, chewing slowly. “I could have a good time in a place like that.”

“Then get your pretty ass down here already and we’ll take every goddamned tour they’ve got.”

“Would if I could, Beast.” You find yourself squeezing your eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. “I’d give anything to have you back in Bell’s Creek with me. I miss you taking up all the space in my tiny kitchen while you help yourself to my treats.”

“I know. I promise I’ll get there. Just do me a favor and don’t start looking for my replacement just yet, okay?”

Your stomach dips when you realize he’s about to say goodbye. Which is fine because you also still had a ton of baking to do. And while you still weren’t quite sure if you were going to follow through with your original Christmas Day dinner plans, the last thing you wanted was for Ari to hear you crying at the unfairness of it all over the phone.

It would only make him feel worse than he already did.

“I’m not sure if anyone could ever replace you, not that I would ever try.” You tell him honestly. “I love you too much.”

“Damn right you do.” Comes your man’s rich, self-assured reply. “No better feeling in the world than being loved by my Duchess.” The warmth in his tone has butterflies stirring in your belly.

They were the good kind of butterflies – the ones only Ari could cause.

“Go get some food and then call me in a bit.” You glance at the clock to check the time. At 2:06pm, there was no way that all hope was lost just yet. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll be an update.”

“Sure thing, baby. But the same goes for you. And don’t just snack – eat something real for me.” His bossy tone has your pulse kicking up.

“You didn’t say please.” Your hand goes to cover your mouth as you tamp down a playful giggle.

“Mmm.” Ari groans as he moves to stretch out the kinks in his back. At least that was what you imagined he was doing. “Could you please do me a kindness and keep feeding those curves? I reckon I’m gonna need a little taste of something sweet when I walk through that front door. You with me?”

“I–I’m with you.” You stammer slightly, your mouth suddenly dry. Another effect that man seemed to have on you. “And I promise I’ll eat. Now hang up with me and go make some friends or something.”

“Thank you, sweet girl. But we’ve been over this, and I’m pretty sure you’re the only friend I need.” He quips rather smugly, his voice deepening ever so slightly.

“Ari…” This had the makings of one of the older, more ridiculous arguments you’d had written all over it.

“Because the way I see it, we’re best friends.” He continues almost as if you hadn’t spoken. “What with all of the sleepovers, and the hair braiding, and don’t get me started on how many times you’ve kept me up late so you could make sure I’ve had my fill of all that sweetness you’ve got between –”

“Okay, okay, okay!” You cut him off with a hiss, not missing the way he laughs. “Fine, we can be best friends as long as you work on getting your cute butt home to me before Christmas, alright?”

“Yes, Duchess.” He finally replies after taking some time to collect himself. “You have my word I’ll keep working on that too. Just hold tight and I’ll be in touch with an update as soon as I have one.”

“Thank you, Beast. I’ll, uh, talk to you soon.”

“You can count on it.” Is all he says before the line goes dead, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

If Ari couldn’t make it back for Christmas, you would be devastated. Here you were, finally feeling safe in a secure and loving relationship, and now there was a strong possibility that you both might be forced to celebrate the holiday hundreds of miles apart from each other.

“God, I can feel a headache coming on.” You mumble as your fingers go to massage your temples.

8:30am, Christmas Day - Bell’s Creek, Texas

“I promise I’ll be fine, Beast.” Drying your tears, you crumble up your tissues in your fist before discarding them in favor of taking a sip of your coffee. “Like you just said, there’ll be other holidays. And certainly other Christmases.”

Ari was still stuck in Omaha. And while you had suspected this call was coming, you hadn’t been prepared for how much the disappointment would affect you.

By all accounts, your Bounty Hunter appeared to be in good spirits, albeit a little tired. He was still on standby, even though all flights were still grounded indefinitely. But you’d at least been happy to hear that he’d somehow managed to catch a few hours of sleep.

Not only that, but he’d also made a new friend in some guy named Clint. They apparently had a number of things in common, with the most important being that they’d both served overseas. Ari had also alluded to his new buddy being in law enforcement as well.

But if you were being honest, you’d been so focused on trying to sound positive that you hadn’t quite been able to focus on his words as much as you would’ve liked. Thankfully, Ari seemed keen on having a conversation – even if it came across a bit one-sided.

“The airline keeps offering to put us up for the night. Anyone who accepts will be guaranteed a spot on one of the first flights out.” Ari coughs softly before continuing. “However, if you’re willing to wait a little bit there’s talk about them sweetening the deal with some sort of voucher or somethin’, plus miles and all that shit.”

“Oh?” Is all you can manage, forcing yourself to take another pull of your now lukewarm coffee.

“Yeah. So, Clint and I were thinking…” He trails off, briefly leaning away from the receiver to comment on something you couldn’t see.

“You two were thinking…what?” Your next sip of coffee tastes surprisingly bitter on your tongue. Maybe you should dump out the pot and brew a fresh one.

“That we should take ‘em up on their offer and just ride this storm out. We take the points, get the voucher, and then maybe in a month or two, we go on a vacation together somewhere nice.”

“You and Clint?!” You screech, accidentally knocking over your mug in the process. “Shit!” You scramble out of your chair to grab a dish towel and hurriedly mop up the mess.

“Hate to break it to ya, baby, but Clint’s not really my type.” The Bounty Hunter chuckles into the phone. “I was talking about me and you, Bird. We can pick a destination and have ourselves a holiday do-over.”

A beat goes by before you respond the only way that makes any real, logical sense. Even though it seems to take every last bit of your resolve.

“Okay.” Your voice comes out small and resigned.

“Aw now, don’t fret. I’ll be home soon.” Ari does his best to reassure you. “And once I’m back, we will spend every waking minute making up for lost time. You have my word.”

Well, when he put it like that…

“I guess we can hold off for a little while longer.” You sniff, wishing you could just go back to bed and sleep until tomorrow. “But you had better keep your promise, Beast. Otherwise I’m gonna have to track down Santa and ask him for a new man.”

Your half-hearted attempt at humor elicits a short bark of laughter from Ari which, in turn, makes you smile as well. Sometimes pushing his buttons a little managed to bring joy to your life.

“Try it, sweet Bird, and I’m telling you right now that I’ll have you in my truck and over my knee before you make it outta the next county.” Comes his gruff response, clearly not enjoying the image of you hanging off another fella’s arm.

You know without asking that he’s probably not kidding – so you decide to leave it alone. If he wanted to thump his chest a little, then you’d let him.

“It was a joke.” You amend when the line falls silent. Standing, you pad towards the fridge on bare feet, stopping once you reach the doors. Yanking one open, you survey the contents, silently wondering if you could even be bothered enough to cook today.

Granted, the spiral cut ham you’d purchased from the butcher wouldn’t take very long in the oven. All you had to do now was throw together the glaze and it would be ready to do its thing. Plus, you’d already baked the pies yesterday, which meant that all that was left for the day was the cake.

“Joking about my replacement isn’t funny.” Ari growls, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. “Especially when I can’t be there in person to plead my case.”

You blow out a frustrated breath at the same time as you roll your eyes. Couldn’t he understand that you needed to make yourself laugh now and then in order to keep from crying? What was so wrong about that?

“I just said I was kidding. But if you wanna plead your case to someone, plead it to your new friend, Clint. See what he says.” The words tumble out faster than you can stop them.

Now you could feel your sadness slowly giving way to anger. Not at Ari or his newfound airport buddy, but at the situation as a whole. Which meant it was time to get off the phone before you said something you would later regret.

“And just what’s that supposed to mean, Duchess?”

“It’s – nothing.” You clamp your mouth shut and close the fridge, all the while trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Because if I had my way, I’d be there with you right now so we could have this stupid argument in person. You gotta know that.”

“I know.”

“Do you, sweetness?”

“Yes, I do.” You respond a touch more firmly, scrubbing your eyes with the heel of your palm. “I just hate this. I hate that it’s Christmas, and that you’re stuck all alone in Omaha and I’m here. But I don’t wanna fight with you, Beast. Not really. I just miss you.”

“So then let’s not fight.” His soft plea makes you sniffle. “I’m gonna go figure out how all this hotel bullshit works and get myself settled in. In the meantime, I want you to go take yourself a nice hot shower and just relax. I’ll call you later, okay?”

For a moment, you allow the gentle warmth of his voice to wash over you. If you closed your eyes it was almost like you could pretend he was with you now. As if he was only seconds away from wrapping his brawny arms your waist and hauling you close.

A tear rolls down your cheek as you imagine him burying his face in the crook of your neck, planting tiny kisses along your sensitive flesh until he had you giggling and squirming in his grasp.

“Bird?”

The sound of your nickname jolts you from your reverie, reminding you that it was time to say goodbye. At least for a little while. Good Lord, when had you become so needy for this man? It must’ve happened when you weren’t paying attention.

“Goodbye, Ari.” You whisper before using your thumb to end the call.

Setting your phone on the counte do a quick spin, silently taking stock of everything you still had to do. If you started cooking relatively soon, you’d be able to occupy yourself until mid-afternoon. And then you would take a shower, and while you were busy doing that you would figure out your next move.

You’re sitting in a chair that isn’t yours with your arms propped up on a desk that doesn’t belong to you while your chin rests on your palm. Instead of spending the afternoon moping, you’d decided to bring a little holiday cheer to your local boys in blue in the form of a home cooked Christmas dinner.

“Glad you like everything.” You say for what feels like the umpteenth time as you watch Bell’s Creek’s newest Deputy, Milton Foster, happily devour his second helping of macaroni and cheese.

A few days ago, you would never have imagined that this would be how you would spend your Christmas Day. But, as they say, beggars couldn’t be choosers. So, it was either enjoy a front row seat to watch Milton wolf down his food at an almost alarming speed, or you could go home and maybe watch a Christmas special on TV.

Alone. By yourself. Yeah, no thanks.

“Yep.” Milton grunts once he finally comes up for air. He manages a sip of his drink before diving back in for a slice of glazed ham, stabbing it with his fork and shoveling it into his mouth. “Looks like Levinson’s loss is my gain. Sorry buddy.”

The words are spoken through a mouthful of food, but you understand them just fine. But just because Milton was arguably your favorite member of the town’s police force didn’t mean he was above pricking your temper every now and again.

And today you were feeling mighty prickly.

“Another crack like that and no pie for you.” That stops him cold, his sharp gray eyes immediately zeroing-in on the whole cherry pie you’d decided to bring along as dessert.

“My apologies.” He beats a hasty retreat, using his fist to muffle a burp. “You know I was only kiddin’. I’m just happy I don’t have to subject myself to another year of Ma’s Christmas Tuna Casserole.” He shudders playfully. “I don’t think I coulda’ handled that one.”

“Yikes.” You mutter before pushing away from the desk to stretch your legs.

“Yeah, it’s a hard-knock life.” He offers you a smile before wiping at his face with a napkin. “You sure you’re not hungry? I know the man’s not here, but I doubt he’d like the idea of me sittin’ here stuffin’ my face while you nurse a Diet Coke.”

“Eh,” you shrug. “He knows how I am. After tasting and smelling everything for hours on end, I’m not typically all that hungry.”

Which was one of the reasons your Beast liked to take it upon himself to help you work up an appetite – usually by stripping down and fucking you senseless. But Deputy Milton didn’t need to know all of that.

“Hm. More for me I guess.” He hums, snagging another freshly buttered dinner roll.

“Yep.” The word is spoken like an airy sigh. “More for you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to go find the ladies room.” You rise to your feet and polish off your beverage before tossing it in the trash. “Be back in a jiff.”

Forty Minutes Later…

The drive from the station back to your place feels surprisingly short. Loneliness weighs on you like a heavy blanket as you pull into the driveway and kill the engine. Groaning, you let your head collide against the steering wheel with a dull thunk.

As much as you didn’t want to go inside, you knew you couldn’t linger out here in your car forever. It was much too cold for an extended outdoor moping session. You’d probably catch frostbite halfway through.

You briefly debate giving Ari a call. Other than exchanging a few text messages here and there, you hadn’t heard from him since this morning. The thought of him being upset with you on Christmas just didn’t sit right.

Maybe you’d call him later, after you’d put the food away and gotten ready for bed. Perhaps you’d even convince him to FaceTime with you so that you could enjoy teasing him while nibbling on a slice of the red velvet cake you’d baked especially for him.

Yes, that was the new plan. But first, you had to get out of the car. Grabbing your purse, you duck out the driver’s side door and make a mad dash up your walkway. It’s so cold that your teeth are already chattering by the time you finally fish your keys out of your bag to let yourself in.

First, you had work to do. And then you would check-in with your man just to make sure that all was right with your world.

8:30pm, Christmas Day – Bell’s Creek, Texas

Glass of wine in hand, you plop down on your living room couch with a defeated huff. You’d just tried Ari a few minutes ago while standing in the kitchen, wearing nothing but your new lacy, red chemise and matching thong you’d purchased just for tonight.

Because you’d known how much Ari would like it.

Except your Bounty Hunter hadn’t answered. Instead, it had gone straight to voicemail both times. Even if he was still pissed at you, you were confident that he would’ve answered. The only reason he would’ve ignored you was if–

Just then your phone dings, alerting you of a new text message. Reaching into the pocket of your robe, you’re elated when you see Ari’s name flash across the screen. But your hopes are soon dashed the moment you read the words written on the screen.

“Hey. Out with Clint. We’ll talk in a bit.”

For a second you’re almost too stunned to speak. Were you really playing second fiddle to a man he’d just met? And all because you’d been a little snippy with him this morning? No. That couldn’t be right.

Your bottom lip begins to tremble as you hastily type out the words: “I miss you.” And it only gets worse when he responds with a simple thumbs up emoji. That fucking bastard!

“Oh fuck you, Ari Levinson. And you too, Clint!” You snarl, snagging your wine and angrily gulping it down. “I’m sure you both will be very happy in Omaha. Where you can fucking stay. Forever!”

Now thoroughly pissed, you stomp your way back into the kitchen to fetch the bottle you’d left behind before returning determined to find something on television. So you could ignore the fact that your heart was breaking.

On fucking Christmas Day.

After a few minutes, you settle on the live action version of A Muppet Christmas Carol. And then you grab a blanket and snuggle up. You’d deal with all of this later. Preferably after your second glass of wine.

Hell, you might even need a third to convince yourself that murder was not the acceptable way to handle these kinds of problems in a relationship. Perhaps you’d simply pour a little sugar in the tank of his truck and see how that made you feel.

Sure, you were probably being petty. But seeing as you’d been on an emotional roller coaster for the better part of two days, you were more than ready to hop the hell off this ride. Ari could stay put for all you cared.

Anger aside, there was no denying the fact that you were absolutely crushed. With that in mind, you decide that you’re not answering whenever Ari finally found the time and inclination to call you back. If he was busy, then you would be too.

You finish off your vino before snuggling even deeper under your blanket. It was officially time for you to go to bed. And when you woke up tomorrow, hopefully all of this would be nothing more than a bad dream.

And if it wasn’t, then you might find yourself asking the Lord for forgiveness after you let the air out of one of your man’s precious tires.

10:45pm, Christmas Day – Bell’s Creek, Texas

“Wake up, little Bird.”

A faint brush of lips along your cheek has your eyes slowly fluttering open as your body fights through the last vestiges of sleep. You weren’t sure what had woken you up. Hell, you didn’t even know what time it was.

You take a moment to stretch before sitting up to reach for your phone. Squinting, you scroll through the handful of last minute messages you’d received from a couple of friends during your nap. But unfortunately there’s still nothing from the one person you’d been hoping to hear from the most.

Ari.

Your eyes stray to the TV and you’re confused when you see the black screen staring back at you. Now that was strange. Maybe you drank a little more wine than you thought.

You curiously examine the still half-full bottle sitting on your coffee table with so much focus that you almost miss the notes of Nat King Cole’s The Christmas Song filtering into your living room.

It was your favorite song, but the last time you checked, it had not been set to autoplay. Which meant someone was in your house.

“Hello?” You call as you rise to your feet, stepping over your blanket as it falls to the floor. Your hands come up to rub your arms in an effort to ward off the slight chill in the air.

The warm scent of spiced cinnamon apples fills your nostrils and delights your senses as you round the corner and scurry into the kitchen. Your legs don’t stop moving until you’re standing mere feet away from the one man who seemed to rent space in your mind from sunup to sundown.

Ari Levinson.

He’s standing there in your kitchen wearing a pair of dark blue denim jeans and a slate gray thermal, eagerly helping himself to an impressive slice of red velvet cake. He smiles at you through a mouthful of dessert, and it’s impossible to miss the way his sparkling blue eyes darken once he gets a good look at the red silk robe that matched your holiday lingerie.

“I don’t believe it. Y–you’re home.” You breathe as one of your hands flies to your chest, seeking to calm your increasingly erratic heartbeat. “But–but how?” Clearly, forming coherent sentences wasn’t your strong suit right now.

“I made my woman a promise.” Ari shrugs, setting his now empty plate aside. “And like I told you, I aimed to see it through. That cake is fucking fantastic by the way.”

“You managed to catch a flight?” You’re so convinced that he might disappear again that you’re almost afraid to drink.

“Nah. Clint and I decided to rent a truck and brave the elements in favor of a little cross-country road trip.” He leans back against the counter, as if bracing himself for your response. And you sure as shit aren’t the type to disappoint.

“Through a flippin’ blizzard?!” You squeal, gripping your face in your hands. “Jesus H. Christ, Beast! Are you insane?!”

“Clearly.” His grin quickly fades into a grimace when you let out another scream as you flail your arms wide.

“I can’t believe you did this!” You tell him as you feel hot tears wet your cheeks. “I can’t believe you–you…you’re here on Christmas.” The words come tumbling out as the dam breaks.

“Bird…”

Ari reaches for you then, although you’re quick to bat his hands away in favor of throwing your arms around his neck and hauling him close. At a loss for what else to do, one of his heavy palms comes to rest on your lower back, rubbing in small, soothing circles while you busy yourself with sobbing into his broad chest.

“Breathe, baby. There we go.” He coos softly, waiting patiently for you to pull away long enough for him to get a good look at your tear stained face.

“I’m so happy you’re home.” You hiccup, using his thermal to dry your eyes. “But I’m also really mad at you for putting yourself in danger like that. You and Clint.” You quickly amend, offering him a watery smile. “You could’ve died, and then I would’ve had to kill you.”

You weren’t joking. You’d been experiencing a variety of violent thoughts lately.

“Is that right?” Ari wraps your arms around his neck again as you two begin to sway to the beat of the music playing in the background. “Well, I’ll make sure to pass that on.”

“Please do.” You murmur as you rest your ear on his chest, content to listen to the sound of his heartbeat. “Was it a long drive?” You allow your eyes to fall closed as you wait for him to respond. Regardless of his answer, you’re determined to keep your calm.

“Eh, about ten hours or so.” He hums, dipping your bodies in time with the song. “Give or take. But the weather got much better around the middle of Kansas. We took our time. We were careful. In fact, Clint’s still out there.”

“Oh God, why?”

“He’s headed to Louisiana. Something about needing to track down an old friend named Nat.” He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead before pushing you away so that he can twirl you around. “But enough about him. I missed you, Bird.” He briefly pauses your dance before bringing your knuckles to his mouth, making you melt.

“Yeah?” You purr, rising on your toes to nip at his jaw. “I missed you too. That’s why I’m wearing one of your Christmas presents. I was gonna show it to you on FaceTime, but you didn’t answer.”

Apparently because he’d been too busy driving across the country at the time. Who would’ve thought?

“This all for me?” His hands go to the belt of your robe, deftly undoing the knot. Once free, you give a little shimmy, content to let the robe pool on the floor at your bare feet. “Oh, yes the fuck it is.” The silky timbre of his voice has you soaking your panties.

As if they weren’t already ruined.

“Merry Christmas.” Planting your hands on either side of his bearded jaw, you draw him down until your lips meet his. Groaning, your Bounty Hunter wastes almost no time deepening the kiss, his expert tongue sweeping past your defenses to duel with your own.

God, he tasted so good. Like spearmint and coffee on a cold winter’s night. You honestly had no idea just how much you'd truly needed this man.

“Next time your sexy ass is comin’ with me.” Ari snarls, breaking the kiss to lightly tug at your bottom lip with his teeth. “Was gonna lose my mind if I had to go another day without this.”

“Okay, Beast.” You whimper when he sharply smacks your ass. “Whatever you say.” Right now, this man had no idea just how close you were to giving him whatever he wanted. All he had to do was ask. “Oooh!” You jolt when he delivers another blow. “Yes, baby. More!”

You’re rewarded with yet another delicious spank, which goes straight to your already aching clit. It was taking everything in you not to reach between your thighs and touch your dripping pussy.

But you refuse to give in, knowing that your man would want that privilege all for himself.

“Mine.” He rasps, his tone taking on an almost feral quality as his calloused palms go to cup your heavy breasts through the thin fabric of your teddy. “Missed these perfect fuckin’ tits.” That’s your only warning before he grips the front of your garment and tearing it in two like it was nothing.

“Ari!” You gasp, arching your back when your man leans down to capture a pouting nipple into his warm, wet mouth. He sucks hard, using his tongue to tease the sensitive flesh. “Ungh!” You squirm in his grasp as long fingers dig into your hips to hold you in place for his sensual assault.

Eventually, he releases you with a slight pop, just as his hands fall away from your hips. “Hope you’re ready, baby. Cuz’ I ain’t lettin’ you outta bed until New Year’s.” His roguish grin has a fresh tendril of heat unfurling in your belly. “Maybe later.”

“You’re all talk.” You giggle, slowly backing away as Ari continues to stalk towards you, using his muscular body to his advantage.

“Nah.” He shrugs, his grin growing impossibly wider when your ass connects with your dining room table. “I can’t wait to lose myself between those thick thighs. Want you to fuckin’ suffocate me, baby.”

Your Bounty Hunter drops to his knees in front you before burying his nose in your panty covered pussy and inhaling deeply. You feel your legs begin to quiver when he does it again, a soft cry escapes your lips when you feel his sharp teeth graze over the outline of your swollen clit.

“Need you to fuckin’ drown me while eat this pretty cunt.” Ari growls, delicately nipping at your inner thigh. “Swear I fuckin' see God every time I get you to sit on my face. That's how divine you taste.”

“Oh!” You whine as he nuzzles his nose against the swollen bundle of nerves, making your core spasm.

“But first, I’m gonna fuck you.” He places one last open-mouthed kiss on your mound before standing up and spinning you around in one blended motion. You cry out when your hands slap against the cool wooden surface. “Teach you a lesson for all the sass you fed me earlier today.”

On a growl, Ari makes quick work of his jeans, shoving them down his hair covered thighs along with his boxers almost faster than you can blink.

“I’m so sorry, Beast…” You moan, offering up your stinging rump for another smack. Thankfully, Ari is more than happy to oblige. “Please…please...” Next thing you know, your thong has joined the rest of your ruined lingerie, putting your weeping cunt on display.

You let out a harsh gasp when you feel his hard, fat cock enter you in one swift thrust. Not wanting to wake the entire neighborhood with your screams, you find yourself biting down on your fist to keep yourself quiet.

Ari takes a moment to readjust his position, spreading his legs so that he can go deeper, get a better angle. He loves the way you sob for him, the needy little sounds you make while he fucks the shit out of your greedy little pussy.

His hips snap in time with the music as your sweat-slick flesh connects again and again – driving you both closer to the brink. Your passion-filled cries fill the room as Ari somehow finds a way to go even deeper, giving it to you so good you know you’re gonna feel him inside you for days.

Just the way you liked it.

“Best Christmas ever, Duchess.” Your man grips the front of your throat, holding you in place while he uses you the way he needs to. God, he made you feel so good. Even when he had you ready to pull your hair out, he still had this way about him that made almost everything feel infinitely better.

“Best-oh God! More!” You cry out, your eyes rolling in the back of your head when he spanks your pussy with a measured flick of his wrist. This man wanted you to see stars, and he was more than up to the challenge. “Oh Jesus - f–fuck yeah!”

“There we go, sweetheart.” Ari purrs as his thrusts become a little more erratic. “Now how ‘bout we see how many times I can fill you up before the clock strikes midnight?”

“I–ooh!” You open your mouth to respond, only to let out a small shriek when he administers another wet smack.

“Huh.” He chuckles, leaving a trail of kisses along the curve of your throat. “Guess I’ll just have to take that as a yes.”

END

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cardansriddle · 5 months

Text

Sugar - (tom riddle x fem!muggle!reader)

Summary: Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps the fates were mocking him. He had not meant to venture into the little coffee shop and he had most definitely not meant to return. But he kept coming back and the waitress kept putting sugar packets near his coffee every damn time.

Warnings: Tom gets possessive halfway through so it's pretty tame for him. not proofread. oh also self-indulgent crime & punishment debate (got a lil carried away).

A/N: 5.5k words but it's kinda mehh. to the person who requested this, i hope you enjoy it at least a little <3

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom felt as if he was a solitary figure in a world hushed by the winter's harsh embrace. With each step he took away from the desolate building of grey against the pristine canvas of winter, he felt lighter. He did not cast a look back towards the orphanage looming behind him, instead focused on the sound of the snow crunching beneath his feet as they led him further into the dark street cloaked in a thick layer of snow.

The wizard knew if he spent another moment in that cursed place he would have lashed out and killed someone, so he had hastily thrown his coat and emerald scarf around himself before slamming the door shut behind him.

Two more years. He thought to himself. Then he would be out and would never be obligated to return again. Perhaps he would even burn the place to the ground if his plans worked out in his favour.

The air was crisp, and his breath materialized in front of him with each exhale. His eyes quickly scanned the narrow empty alley for a suitable quiet place where he could pass his time. There was nothing interesting, except for the tiny bookstore nestled in the corner of the street that emitted a warm, golden light through its window. Tom quickly decided it would do, and he strode towards the place with purpose. A small bell chimed as he entered the place, which he quickly realised was a bookstore with a cosy coffee shop tucked inside.

He inhaled the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of weathered books. Before he could lose himself entirely in the intoxicating symphony of scents, a sudden, loud thud echoed from behind the counter, jolting him from his reverie.

"Blimey!" someone cursed, their voice slicing through the tranquillity. Tom found himself rooted to the spot, curiosity piqued, as a figure suddenly emerged from underneath the counter.

It was a girl. Unabashedly, his eyes traced the lines of her features, noting the delicate curve of her jaw and the cascade of hair that framed her face. He assumed she was around his age if not younger and he stared at the girl as she rubbed her head, wincing when she hit a particularly soft spot before she realised that she was not alone in the shop. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and he watched as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

Tom, still an observer, saw more than just the blush; he discerned the subtleties of her response, the way her eyes momentarily widened before seeking refuge elsewhere, fingers fidgeting with the edges of her knitted cardigan.

She attempted to compose herself and met his eyes. "Oh! Sorry, sir. How may I assist you?" She asked cheerfully, resisting the urge to duck her head down to avoid his intense stare.

He crossed the small distance to the counter. "I'd like a coffee. Black."

"No sugar?" she inquired, to which Tom raised a single brow. Her blush deepened as she quickly averted her eyes from his face.

"Right, of course. You may take a seat while I prepare this for you." With a nod, she hurried to fulfil his request, leaving Tom alone with the lingering scent of coffee and old books that were now intertwined with a pleasant smell of vanilla and sweet—

It was her perfume, he realised with a start.

He hastily removed his coat and scarf before plopping down on the nearest armchair. His gaze remained fixed on the girl, absorbed in the rhythm of her practised motions as she prepared his drink, her movements seemingly both effortless and comforting. There was an almost lazy grace to her actions and he continued to watch as she sang under her breath so softly if he had not been staring so intensely, he would not have picked up on it.

He wondered how he had never noticed this place before. He had been passing through this little street for as long as he could remember but for some reason, he had only stumbled upon it today. His sharp eyes darted around, instinctively searching for traces of magic, half-expecting the discovery of a hidden passage to the wizarding world but he quickly realised the place was undeniably, disappointingly muggle.

Muggle.

He tore his gaze away from the girl at the mental reminder of what she was. He fished out a book from his bag and opened it to occupy his mind.

The subtle shuffle of her approaching steps drew his attention back to the present, and he met her gaze as she placed the steaming cup of coffee before him. A sugar packet sat innocently beside it. His eyes lingered on the packet for a moment before lifting coldly to meet hers.

She, however, was undeterred by the intensity of his glare. “In case you change your mind.” She smiled at him softly before turning on her heel and walking back.

His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, and then, almost involuntarily, it dropped to the innocuous sugar packet.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom did not know why he had returned. Truthfully, he had not even noticed his feet had led him here until he was in front of the familiar wooden door that led into the coffee shop. Perhaps he had thought more than he should’ve about the disgustingly soft smile of that girl for the last five months. She was an insolent muggle, yet here he was, walking into the place as if he had never left.

The seasons had blurred since he had last been here. Winter had long surrendered to the warmth of summer. He had to spend at least a month in the orphanage, and he was hoping Malfoy would invite him over for the rest of the summer.

The place was just as he remembered it. The only difference was the lack of Christmas decorations. He faltered only slightly when he took notice of the girl behind the counter, already staring at him. She had not changed much. Her face was the same, less pale perhaps, but the same, nonetheless. The oversized knitted sweater that once enveloped her had been replaced by a little white sundress, and his gaze involuntarily lingered on the exposed smooth skin.

“Welcome back!” She greeted him cheerfully, and he was not surprised she remembered him. “What can I get you?”

“Black coffee,” he replied curtly

She nodded as if she was expecting it. "Coming right up." Gently shutting her book, she gracefully moved towards the coffee machine. Tom's eyes couldn't help but trail to the volume she had been reading, and to his pleasant surprise, it was Dostoyevsky. He had not pegged her as someone who would enjoy Russian literature, with its weighty and morally morbid themes. In his mind, she seemed more likely to be a Jane Austen enthusiast, with her intricately written romances and flowery prose.

“It’s 'Crime and Punishment'." He suddenly heard her soft voice declare, and he looked away from the book to give his attention to the girl. Then feeling as if she had said something silly, she blushed and looked away quickly. "Though I'm sure you figured that. I just wondered why you look so surprised."

He replied before he could tell himself not to. "I did not imagine you as someone who would enjoy this."

Emboldened at his words, she turned to face him, a hand casually resting on her hip as she sported a cheeky smile. "Am I to presume you imagine me often?"

His sharp inhale was audible as he absorbed the unexpected shift in her demeanour. He had not expected this shy, timid girl to tease him so boldly. She was a little vixen.

But he did not give her the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him. A lazy raise of his brow was the extent of his acknowledgement before his gaze wandered towards the rows of bookshelves, feigning indifference. "Do you have another copy? Perhaps I shall like to reread this evening."

She frowned, walking over towards the table he had occupied last time to set his coffee down. He grimly took notice of the sugar packet placed near it. "I'm afraid not. But you can have mine."

"No, that is quite alri—" He began to decline but she had already crossed the small distance between them and was holding out the thick book. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers closed around the object, careful to avoid touching hers.

The girl smiled and walked away before he could even say thanks. Not like he was going to.

Settling back into the soft armchair, he opened the book only to freeze at the sight of a name scribbled on the front page and he knew it belonged to her. The wizard rolled the name around in his mind and determined that it suited her. He stared at her name for a minute longer before turning the page and delving into the content of the book.

He had been so immersed in the story that he had not noticed how the time had passed. The gradual hush of the coffee shop's ambient sounds finally penetrated his concentration, and he distinctly heard the girl approaching him.

"I'm sorry to disturb you but we're closing in five minutes." She looked at the book in his hands. "You may return it once you're done."

He hummed and looked down at where he had stopped.

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."

He wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something.

Tom found himself caught in the silent narrative of this stranger's presence.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He returned the next day.

She looked up to see him enter, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up.

Tom placed the book on the counter.

"You finished it in one day?"

He shrugged. "I'm a fast reader."

She gave him a small smile, turning to make his black coffee before he could ask for it. "Every time I reread it it takes me a few days." She paused for a moment, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "The usual?"

He nodded. "The usual." He debated whether or not to voice his next question, and decided one conversation with the girl would not hurt.

"Why do you read it so often?"

"Each time I find new details that make Raskolnikov's character more complex. Each time I discover these small little things I missed the last time I read it becomes so much better. Plus I enjoy his moral dilemma."

He hummed, his curiosity piqued. He took his usual seat and watched as she brought his coffee and set it down in front of him. "Enlighten me." He gestured towards the seat in front of him. She hesitated only for a second before taking a seat.

"Raskolnikov is obviously a complex character. His actions are driven by a desire for power and superiority, a belief that he is exempt from conventional morality. However, one could argue that his internal struggles and eventual remorse suggest a more nuanced exploration of morality."

Tom furrowed his brows. "I see him as a product of his environment, a desperate man driven to extremes by the harsh circumstances he faced. His morality shifts to the other side of the spectrum."

She cocked her head to the side, and he could see her getting slightly frustrated. "But morality is not just a spectrum; it's a complex interplay of values, societal norms, and personal convictions. Raskolnikov's guilt stems from the clash between his actions and the intrinsic moral compass within him. It's the consequence of recognizing the weight of one's choices."

He scoffed before he could stop himself. "Morality is subjective. What is right for one may not be right for another. Raskolnikov was weak and he was an idiot. Guilt is a useless emotion and it is for the weak."

Her expression remained unwavering. "But perhaps it's that recognition of guilt that separates the morally discerning from those who lack empathy. The fact that you can't comprehend his guilt doesn't make it foolish. It makes it human."

Tom's eyes narrowed a glint of impatience in his gaze. "Human or not, guilt is a hindrance. It's a sentiment for those too feeble to rise above their actions. If I were to make a difficult choice, I would do it without hesitation, without remorse."

He only realised the slip of his tongue after the words left his mouth. He stilled, gauging her reaction yet her response was measured but firm. "Raskolnikov's guilt is a testament to his humanity, his ability to grapple with the consequences of his choices. It's what sets him apart from those who operate without remorse."

"But—"

"So what you're saying is you would kill and feel no remorse?" She cut him off.

Yes.

"You do not understand." He did not intend his tone to be so harsh, yet the words left his mouth coldly. She visibly withdrew and nodded stiffly. "Right. Enjoy your coffee."

He opened his mouth to say something but realised for the first time in his life he did not know what to say.

He was left staring at the cursed sugar packet she had left near his coffee again.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He did not return the next day. Nor the day after. Or after.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Two weeks passed with no sign of him.

And then she saw him step into the coffee shop. He walked in with determination. He walked up to the counter, meeting her gaze with an intensity that mirrored the unspoken tension between them. "I'd like a black coffee," he said, his tone even, though a hint of something lingered beneath the surface.

She nodded, her expression composed but guarded. As she prepared the coffee, the air seemed charged with unspoken words. Her usual cheerful smile was notably absent. The absence struck him, and he realised he had enjoyed her smiles.

When she placed the coffee in front of him, there was a palpable pause. He glanced at the sugar packet, a subtle acknowledgement of the lingering disagreement. Without a word, he took it, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he poured the sugar into his coffee.

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering, before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He returned the next day. And the day after that. And for the rest of summer.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

The next time he stepped into the familiar place, winter had covered the city with a snowy blanket once again. It had been a year since he first discovered this little place. And he had not seen his little waiter since he left for Hogwarts in September.

When he walked in, her eyes lit up visibly. "Hi!" She waved at him with a bright grin.

"Hello." He greeted as he unwrapped his scarf and settled in his usual seat. In a matter of minutes, she was bringing him his usual order. She was back to wearing her warm knitted sweaters. "How did you enjoy the book?"

"Oscar Wilde never disappoints," he said. She hummed in agreement, pleased at his words. He watched as her hands dropped to fidget with the bottom of her sweater. "You wish to ask me something." He stated. "Ask."

"Do you study in a boarding school?"

Tom hesitated only for a moment before replying. "Yes."

"Oh. Well, that explains the months of not showing up."

"Were you expecting me?" He teased her with an amused smirk, taking delight in the way her cheeks reddened.

"I was just wondering that is all," she admitted, a hint of curiosity peeking through. Tom observed her, noting the return of the timid, shy girl from their first encounter. It amused him how a few teasing remarks could momentarily whisk away her fiery boldness. He couldn't help but wonder what it would take to awaken it once again.

"And do you wonder about me often, little vixen?" he added, a playful glint in his eyes.

She blushed harder at the nickname but then as if a thought had struck her, she straightened and Tom watched as she visibly mustered up her courage. "I actually was wondering your name."

He bristled, but she must have not noticed because she continued. "I suppose I have not given you mine either." She mused out loud and announced her name to him. "But I thought it bizarre that considering all the time we've talked we never got around to that. Friends who do not each other's names." The girl laughed at the last notion and only then she realised that Tom had remained unnervingly quiet throughout the exchange. She raised her eyes from the frayed edges of her sweater, and the sight almost made her take a step back. His eyes had darkened, and she could have sworn she saw them flash red. There was no warmth, no familiarity in his gaze.

"Are you alright?"

Suddenly, he rose from his seat, an ominous tension permeating the air as he advanced towards her with every word. "We are not friends. You dare to think I would be friends with the likes of you?" His words were sharper than the keenest of blades, cutting into her with merciless precision. "Foolish, little girl," He spat out before grabbing his things and storming out of the place. As the door closed behind him, the little coffee shop seemed to exhale, the echoes of his harsh words lingering in the hushed aftermath.

She stood frozen in her place, helpless against the storm of emotions and the tears that began to veil her vision.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom fumed for months after their last encounter. How dare the ignorant muggle insinuate that they were friends? He scarcely considered his Knights of Walpurgis as his friends, and she thought she would just appoint herself the title? Who did she think she was?

"Mate, you alright? You've been unresponsive for a while." Malfoy nudged him slightly, attempting to draw his attention back to the present.

Tom made a noise of acknowledgement before mentally shaking the image of his little waiter— no, not his, he berated himself— from his mind.

But no matter how he tried, he could not. He could not just banish her from his thoughts. He knew a part of him, a rather embarrassingly large part of him enjoyed her company, her passion, her conversations— just her.

And there, tucked away in the recesses of his trunk, lay her damned book— a taunting reminder of her. The temptation to burn it, to obliterate any remnants of her from his life, danced on the edge of his thoughts. He had shoved away, out of sight if only just to save himself the fury, the anger, (the longing).

He wondered if she was going through the same turmoil as him. He hoped she was. She had no right to make him feel this way and get away with it unscathed.

But she was too enticing to give up. He did not know what it was about her. She was a muggle, an ordinary, plain girl working at a forgotten little cafe. Sure, she liked books, but so did a lot of other people. Yes, she was pretty, but so were a lot of other girls. But none could even come close to stirring his emotions as she did.

Perhaps it was the ease with which she conversed with him. Or the entirely too cheery smiles. Or her endearing knitted sweaters— though he secretly favoured the sundresses.

He, of course, knew what it was. He had tried to deny the idea to himself, but there was no escaping it. Tom had never been able to be unequivocally authentic with another individual before. From his early childhood, he refused to allow anyone close to him. He never lowered his walls and rejected anything that would yield a genuine connection. It was refreshing with her. He had no cause to uphold a curated facade.

Had she not been a muggle, he would entertain the thought of her bewitching him. He would have been convinced the girl put some spell on him or slipped a potion into his drink.

It was maddening.

She was maddening.

He sighed upon realising that he had spiralled again thinking of her. He needed to return the book, and maybe that would ease his mind. Perhaps once he was rid of her possession, she would not haunt him anymore. (Though he knew he was only trying to reassure himself with the last thought.)

As summer loomed around the corner, it felt both too distant and too imminent, mirroring the paradox of his tangled emotions.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

The sound of her laugh rang out before he could even close the door behind him. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he did not get whiplash. But there she was, his little waiter, chuckling delightfully as some boy spoke lowly from behind the counter. Chuckles escaped her lips, and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to stifle the laughter, her hands deftly at work preparing a drink. Despite her efforts, laughter bubbled forth once more, forcing her to set the cup down to avoid any potential spills.

An immediate surge of anger coursed through him. Who was this boy? What business did have with her? What right did he have to elicit such genuine laughter from her? (Most importantly, how dare she replace him?)

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to gather himself into some semblance of a composed, unaffected man that he most definitely was not at that moment. With a loud, purposeful cough, he sought to catch her attention.

She spun around, the practised smile reserved for customers settling onto her face as she readied herself to serve him. However, the smile swiftly vanished the moment her doe-like eyes locked onto him. She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she stared at him, wide eyes roving over his face as if to confirm that he was really standing there, in front of her, and was not a figment of her imagination.

Because despite their last encounter, despite the anger, and the hurt she had felt, she kept hoping he would return. She kept imagining him standing there, with his ridiculously fancy scarf as he spewed out an apology. She had delved so deep into her fantasies involving him that now that he was actually there, she did not what to do or to say. Her tongue was tied, and her brain was fogged. What was she supposed to say?

It seemed he decided to grant her mercy and be the first to break the tense silence.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

He shuffled closer, though his steps were unsure, unlike his usual confident strides that she was used to seeing. “I wished to return your book.” He declared yet made no move to reach into his bag for the said book. He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her, her eyes that always seemed to glisten, her hands that were always fidgeting, her little sundress that he was afraid would drive him to insanity, (and her lips that he wished he could press against his own just so he could find out what they felt like, tasted like.) He shoved the last one into a drawer in his mind and locked it away. He could not fantasise about her. She was a muggle. He could not stoop so low as to hold affections for a muggle girl.

“Did you enjoy it?” The girl asked tentatively as if afraid one wrong word would set him off, have him spitting more harsh words that would dig deep into her skin and remain there.

“As always.” He replied. Because every book she gave him held another meaning. She was a clever girl, choosing the ones that she knew would have him coming back with a strong debate prepared in his mind. They always seemed to stand on opposite sides of every argument that the books posed, ensuring that their discussion would get heated, exciting, and thrilling.

While Tom vehemently disagreed with her views, he found pleasure in the way her mind worked. He admired her quick-wittedness, her ability to counter every argument he posed. No one else had engaged him in such stimulating conversations. She was a breath of fresh air, a captivating force he wanted to inhale and never release. He yearned to suffocate in the essence of her being, to be consumed and to consume in return. He wanted to own her— that irrational desire to keep her for himself was always there in the deeper parts of his mind that he was scared to venture into.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She responded but he could detect the subtle undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.

He hesitated. “May I have one black coffee?” He was extending an olive branch, and while it was not an outright apology, coming from Tom, it was a whole declaration.

“It’s five minutes until closing time.”

She would not be swayed so easily then.

Fine. Tom thought. He would make her come to her senses.

The boy who he had forgotten was still there suddenly came to stand next to him. Tom eyed him with disdain, his features curling into an unimpressed sneer, raising a lazy brow.

“I’ll help her close up, mate. You can leave now.”

“Daniel, that is not necessary.” She muttered, glancing between the two men nervously. Daniel? Tom clenched his jaw, enraged. In his absence, it seemed she had gotten on first-name basis with a boy. His mouth soured with the taste of betrayal at her blatant ignorance. How could she discard him so easily? Had she not suffered all these months at the mere thought of him? Had he been alone in his suffering?

“No,” Tom stated flatly. “You will leave.” He told the boy then turned to face his waiter. “We will talk.”

“Tom, I do not think—”

He cut her off with a hiss. “It was not a request.”

Daniel seemed wholly displeased. He opened his mouth to argue, but his girl beat him to it. “It’s okay, Daniel. I will see you some other time.”

“Whatever he has to tell you, surely he can say in front of me.”

She shook her head gently, trying to dissuade him. “It’s a matter between him and I. I would rather talk privately.”

Tom looked smug as he faced Daniel again, struggling to contain his smirk. He could see the indignation clear on the boy’s face as his eyes flickered dubiously between her and Tom. He knew the wizard was no ordinary acquaintance of her, he could feel the palpable tension in the air like a wolf.

Tom, of course, wished to push his buttons further, just to have the last word. “You heard her. Leave.”

Daniel scoffed. “I will see you tomorrow then.” He muttered and with one last long look, he squared his shoulders and left the café with as much dignity as his wounded pride could muster.

As the door shut with a final thud, they were left in pregnant silence, both unsure of the dynamics at play between them. The air in the café hung heavy with unspoken tension as if the silence itself had taken on a weight, pressing down on them both. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second echoing in the quiet space.

She was the first to cave. "Well? You wished to talk." Gesturing towards him with a hand expectantly. "Talk."

Tom inhaled sharply, and for the first time in his life, he did not quite know what to say. How to proceed.

"Who is he?" The question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.

She raised a brow. "Seriously? After how you walked out of here last time I would think your choice of words would be different."

"Different? I hardly think the question was unfair."

She huffed impatiently, discarding her apron as she turned from him to put everything away for the night. "Of course. How foolish of me to assume that you have no business inquiring about my life when we are not even friends." She chuckled bitterly. "You made the notion quite appalling if memory serves me right. You wish to know who is Daniel? For all you know, he could be my fiancee. Would it matter? No. Because you and I are hardly acquaintances."

An unfamiliar feeling began coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly felt sick. She briefly turned to fix him with a pointed glare and froze at the look on his face. The dancing flames of the candles seemed to mirror the flickering emotions in Tom's eyes—flames of irritation, discontent, and an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Tom could scarcely believe his fate. How was it that he— the most powerful wizard of his generation— had succumbed to the pathetic disease of— what was it? Desire? Lust? Infatuation? Such mundane urges were beneath him, he had no wish to pursue anyone or anything that was not remotely related to his quest for power. Yet there she was. In her infuriating fucking dress and those innocent eyes. Did she even know what sort of turmoil she had caused him?

All of a sudden he felt exhausted, defeated. His shoulders sunk visibly as he ran a hand through his hair. He would use a hundred of her sugar packets in his coffee if it meant she would just grace him with her bubbly smile again and just— just what? Leave him be? He did not want that. Treat him as if nothing had happened? Maybe. Release him from whatever enchantment she put him under? Yes.

"What do you want from me?" He asked at last, frustration clear in his voice.

She regarded him with disbelief as she rounded the counter to stand directly in front of him. "What do I want from you?" She repeated incredulously. "I want an apology! I want an explanation! I want—" she sighed, cutting herself off before she could finish the thought. "You cannot just show up here demanding things and ordering people around after how you treated me last time. If you wish to continue this conversation, you will apologise to me."

"You want me to say sorry?" He took a step towards her.

"Yes!"

"Fuck your apology."

Before she could register what was happening, Tom closed the minute distance between them and caved into his desire. He grabbed her face, fingers threading through her hair, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was not gentle; it was a collision of pent-up tension and bottled-up desires.

Tom's lips moved fervently against hers, pouring his frustration into the act. It was a silent declaration that transcended the boundaries of his complicated inner turmoil. Tom knew that. But he could not pull away from her— not after having tasted how her lips feel like.

Her hands, which had hovered hesitantly in the space between them, found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer.

She felt—tasted like God's favourite nectar, sweet and addictive and he knew he would never get enough of it. She might not have been a witch, but he was bewitched by her.

As they broke apart, breathless, the air between them hung heavy with the residue of their shared kiss. He dared not to ease his hold on her, only stared at her with darkened eyes, taking delight in the way her lips were bruised, and puffy, all because of him. But it was not enough. He needed to mark her for all to see.

He dove into the tender skin of her throat like a man starved, teeth sinking into her flesh with no warning, and a sick sort of satisfaction washed over him at the muffled moan that escaped her mouth. He sucked on the skin until he was sure there would be a purple mark blooming on the spot before running his tongue over the flesh to soothe the sting. He did not waste any second before moving to mark another spot.

"I do not even know your name." She managed to choke out in between her whimpers, hands moving of their own accord to tangle in his hair, and a particular tug had him growling deep in his throat.

"Tom." He whispered, pulling away from her neck only to return his lips to hers. "Say it. Say my name." He murmured in between the kisses, pushing her back until her back was pressed against the counter. He easily picked her up to place her on the surface, his fingers trailing along her thighs to her knees to nudge them apart so he could stand in between them.

"Tom." She breathed out in a daze, and he smirked in delight.

She was his. He had already branded her, and he would do much more to ensure she knew it was him she belonged to.

He leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. "I hope you know there is no going back from this. From me." He whispered, fingers slipping under the strap of her dress and dragging it down her shoulder slowly. "You are my dirty little secret now. Mine."

She shuddered under the weight of his words but he was already snaking his hand around her throat as his lips found home on her own once again.

No going back.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

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leahwllmsn · 5 months

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beautiful, crazy (she can't help but amaze me) | leah williamson x reader

Leah is always there to tell you how beautiful you are. You don't think much of it.

The five times Leah tells you you’re beautiful and the one time you finally do something about it.

; fluff

You don't know why Leah likes to stare at you randomly. You figure it’s simply because the girl likes to space out and of all the times you catch her doing so, Leah just happens to be spacing out in your direction.

Yeah. That must be it. Why else would Leah be staring at you?

Although with the amount of times you’ve caught her recently, that reason isn’t making a lot of sense anymore.

And it’s not that you mind Leah’s staring (you don't mind anything Leah does), it’s just that you always seem to be doing stupid things whenever Leah’s gaze is on you.

Like last week, you were baking some brownies when Leah decided to join you in the kitchen counter with her book. You were sure that Leah spent more time looking at you than her book and it resulted in your brownies being too sweet (Alessia said she was going to instantly get diabetes after one bite and Katie couldn’t stop coughing because even sugar doesn’t taste this sweet, y/n).

(Leah, on the other hand, happily munched on her slice, saying that it was the best brownies she had ever eaten.)

(You had an ear-splitting grin on your face the whole day.)

You can’t count how many times something like that has happened and you don't know why, but you do know that it will keep on happening if Leah can’t stop looking at you.

Now, you’re at training and Leah is on the other side of the field but you can feel her eyes on you. And so far, you’ve tripped once but you’re able to brush it off because no one (but Leah) is paying attention.

It goes smoothly after. You decide that the only way to focus is to forget about Leah’s presence and just focus on your game.

You hear Beth shout your name, passing you the ball. You receive it and turn towards the goal. Too easy. Until you stupidly glance to your left and lock eyes with Leah. Leah who is running in your direction and is about to tackle the ball away from you, but you don’t care because her eyes are so blue, even from a distance, and you always do feel like floating whenever you catch a glimpse of those baby blues.

The next thing you know, you’re on the ground, your ankle throbbing in pain. Thank god it doesn’t feel like anything serious.

“y/n!”

You hear worried voices asking if you’re okay but all you can focus on is the feel of familiar soft hands on you.

“y/n, hey, you okay?” Leah is crouching down next to you, her hands rubbing comforting circles on your shoulder. “I would say I’m sorry, but you tripped on your own feet, love. I haven't even caught up to you yet.”

Leah shoots you an amused look and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Yeah…” you give her a sheepish smile. “I’m okay. Something’s wrong with me today. I can’t seem to focus.”

Leah shakes her head and helps you up. “Well, you did perfectly. As always.”

“You think so?”

“Of course, beautiful girl. Now let’s get you some ice.”

II.

It’s one of those days. You wake up with a blaring headache, you forget to give your dog some food before going to your team photoshoot, and you leave your good luck charm in the shape of a bear keychain at home.

It isn’t a good day.

Your teammates are taking their turn in front of the camera and you’re still in the dressing room. You don't feel like you’ll do your best today and you’re afraid of disappointing everyone.

You hear the doors open and see Leah enter the room from the reflection in the mirror. You don't know why your heart starts beating irregularly at the sight of the blonde.

“Hey, l/n. You’re up next.” Leah informs you.

You smile at her through the mirror. “Okay, I’ll be right out.”

Leah comes closer until she’s standing behind you. Leah is close enough that you’re able to catch a whiff of her perfume and you start to feel the familiar warmth in your chest whenever Leah is near.

“You seem tense,” Leah says, her hands going up to massage your shoulders. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah…” you trail off. You hope Leah can’t tell that you’re lying.

But Leah has always been able to read you like an open book. “You’re lying.”

You laugh. “I was lying, wasn’t I?” you bring your hands up to Leah’s that are still on your shoulder and give it a squeeze. “It’s just not my day today. I think the biggest worry right now is Ted.”

“Ted?”

“My lucky charm? You know him. I left him at home.” you pout and you hear a giggle coming from the blonde behind you.

“Ah yes. Good ole Ted. Are you worried that you won’t do well without it?”

“Leah,” you sigh, grabbing the lipstick in front of you and applying some more on your lips. “It’s my lucky charm, I know I won’t do well.” you see a frown make its way to Leah’s face and you turn to face her. “Why are you frowning? You’ll get wrinkles.”

Leah rolls her eyes at you, a fond smile on her face.

“What?” you grin at her. “It’s true, you know.”

Leah rolls her eyes again, that damn smile still on her lips, and you smack her arms playfully.

“Love,” she starts. “I just don’t like how you’re doubting yourself just because of a bear.”

“Excuse me, it’s not just a bear.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leah tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you can’t understand why you’re suddenly so nervous. “You’re very beautiful, darling. You don’t need a lucky charm for a simple photoshoot.”

“I appreciate you trying to make me feel better,” you smile at her. “But I’ve always had it with me. I don’t even know how I forgot about it. I swear I had it chained to my bag.”

Leah looks deep in thought for a few seconds until you see her face lights up. “I can be your lucky charm then.”

“What?” you’re laughing until you see the serious look on Leah’s face. “You’re serious about this.”

Leah narrows her eyes at you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You hum, your finger tapping your chin in thought. It doesn’t make sense to you how a person can be someone else’s lucky charm. But seeing Leah’s excited face, you decide to try to make sense of it all. “You do realize that if you’re going to be my lucky charm, you’ll always have to be with me.”

The grin Leah gives you makes you feel that no amount of bear keychains can give you the luck of being on the receiving end of Leah’s smile.

“Duh. I know. I’ll be there for everything.”

“That’s a big promise, Leah.”

“And I’ll keep it.”

III.

You wake up on a Sunday at 5 in the morning—it’s a routine. You would then pour yourself a glass of whatever juice is in the fridge and drink it all in one go before changing into your running clothes to run for an hour or two. And once you get back to your shared apartment with Leah, you would cook yourself breakfast and eat it alone because Leah likes to sleep in on Sundays and wouldn’t be up until at least a few hours later.

You enjoy your peaceful Sunday mornings.

Today though, instead of coming home to a quiet apartment, you find Leah in the kitchen with music blaring from her speakers—it's loud and you’re almost positive that you’re getting a complaint from your neighbours later on.

A curious look makes its way across your face because you know Leah likes to sleep in on Sundays. So it’s definitely a surprise to you to see Leah up and about on a Sunday morning instead of tucked away in her bedroom.

“You’re awake.” your voice sounds more like a question rather than a statement.

Leah turns around and you see the biggest grin on her face. You find it to be the most adorable sight to come home to.

“I am! I’m cooking breakfast.”

“You are?”

“Hey,” Leah narrows her eyes at you. “What’s with that tone, missy?”

You go to take water from the fridge (you mostly want to hide the automatic smile that appears on your face). “What tone?”

“Like you can’t believe that I’m actually cooking breakfast.”

You take a sip of your drink and lean against the counter. “I’m just surprised that you’re awake, that’s all. It’s Sunday.”

“Well, I am awake and I’m cooking breakfast,” Leah points a spatula at your face. “Come help me.”

You nod. You can never resist Leah, especially when Leah is wearing the pyjamas that you got her (it has tiny ducks on it) and the baby hair falling out of her messy ponytail is making her look so, so endearing. “Let me shower first.”

“Good idea, you smell.” Leah says, her voice teasing.

“Oi, Williamson!” you warn.

Leah turns back around to face the stove. “I’m kidding. You still smell nice even after a run.”

“Now I know that you’re lying.”

Leah laughs. “I’m not!”

“Sure,” your tone doesn’t sound convincing. “Even though I don’t smell, I still need to shower because I look terrible right now.”

You see Leah stop her movements. She puts down her spatula on the pan and faces you again. This time, you see a scowl on the blonde’s face.

“I think you’re really beautiful right now.” Leah’s voice is soft, almost like she’s too afraid to say it out loud.

You can feel your cheeks heat up. “I’m not. It’s okay, you can admit it. I won’t get offended.”

Leah steps into your personal space and you feel your breath hitch at the close proximity. “I mean it when I say you’re beautiful, y/n.”

No matter how good Leah smells in the morning (like fresh flowers and mint and candies), you shouldn’t be thinking if Leah’s lips taste as good as she smells.

“Leah.”

“Hm?”

You swear you see Leah’s gaze drop to your lips, but you decide that it’s just your mind playing tricks on you.

“I have to… uh-” you clear your throat. Leah is still staring at you. There’s something in her gaze that you can’t quite place and you're scared of what it means. “I’m gonna shower now.”

“Okay, smelly.”

You slap Leah’s arm. “You just said I wasn’t smelly!”

Leah’s laughter echoes throughout the kitchen. It’s your favourite sound. “I’m kidding!”

Just before Leah turns back to her cooking, she places a kiss so gentle on your forehead and you’re left to wonder what it would be like to feel Leah’s lips on your own instead.

IV.

You know all the drawbacks of being famous. So an incident of overhearing someone talk about you in a negative light isn’t uncommon at all. You would like to say that you’re used to it, but it never gets easier.

“That’s really y/n l/n?”

“I can’t believe it either. She looks different.”

“Good different?”

“Hah. I’m not even gonna say it. Don’t wanna be too harsh.”

You sink further in your seat as you listen to a couple of girls talk about you two tables away. You look at your phone, trying to drown out all the noise.

y/n: where are you? your drink’s melting

y/n: like olaf

Leah: I’m in front of you ;)

You look up and you’re met with Leah’s smiling face. You can’t help but exhale a breath of relief at having Leah there.

“Olaf? Really?”

You shrug as Leah takes a seat in front of you. “Here’s your coffee. I’m pretty sure all the ice has gone.”

Leah takes a sip of her drink, scrunching her nose the moment she tastes it. “You’re right. Tastes like Olaf.”

You simply roll your eyes in response.

Leah places her drink back down and reaches out to touch your hand. This isn’t uncommon for you—Leah’s hands always seem to find yours. “Sorry for making you wait. Alex was supposed to give me a ride since I wasn’t driving today, but she forgot about me so I took the tube.”

“You… took the tube?” your tone is full of disbelief and you can’t help but laugh at the offended look on Leah’s face.

“It’s not my first time on a tube, why do you sound so shocked?”

“Did you get lost?” you have a teasing smile on your face.

Leah takes another sip of her drink before replying. “I didn’t.”

You hum. “That’s why you’re late, isn’t it? You got lost.”

“I didn’t!” Leah whines, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

“You shouldn’t be talking,” Leah leans back in her chair and points a finger at you. “You’ve never been on the tube.”

“I have!”

Leah throws her head back in laughter. “When?”

You’re about to reply when you hear it again. You hope that they won’t repeat what they said about you because you know just how protective Leah is.

“Is that Leah Williamson? She looks amazing.”

You see Leah’s signature smirk on her face, her eyebrow raised. You have to agree with that one. Leah does look good (she’s wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans but to you, she’s still the prettiest girl in the café).

“Right? I still can’t believe that’s actually y/n l/n though. She used to be so gorgeous, what happened to her?”

You inwardly cringe at that and you know Leah heard it too with the way her coy smile quickly drops from her face.

Leah abruptly stands up from her seat and your eyes widen. “Leah,” your tone is full of panic. “Sit down.”

You can see how angry Leah looks. You quickly grab Leah’s hand and give it a squeeze in hopes that it can calm her down.

Leah looks down at your hand then back at your face. Leah looks conflicted and you understand what the blonde is feeling—you would do the same if the roles are reversed.

“Leah, forget about it, okay? It’s not worth it.”

Leah takes a deep breath and she finally sits back down. “How can I just forget about it? y/n, they’re—”

“They’re nobodies,” you interrupt. “Their opinions don’t matter to me.”

Leah is quiet for a moment. She then holds your hand in hers again. “Promise me that you won’t remember what they said once we step out of here?”

“Sure, darling.”

“y/n,” Leah sighs. “I know these kind of stuff gets to you sometimes—”

“But I’ll be fine.” Despite your reassuring smile, Leah doesn’t seem convinced. So you lean forward and pinches Leah’s cheeks, hoping to earn a smile from the blonde. “Why do you look so sad?”

Leah swats your hands away but you can see a smile starting to form. “Because, you-” she groans in frustration. “You’re the most beautiful girl and I hate that people think otherwise.”

You look amused at Leah’s answer. “Not everyone is going to have the same opinion as you.” you see Leah about to protest so you quickly put your hand up. “But. Your opinion is the one that matters, so it’s the one I’ll always remember, okay?”

“Then please always remember that I think you’re really beautiful.”

“Okay, sweet cheeks. I will.”

(Leah glares at the girls as you exit the coffee shop, her arms around your shoulder protectively and you know that it’s too late to stop yourself from falling.)

“Is that a new lipstick?”

Your eyebrows quirk in surprise at Leah’s question. Leah is seated on the couch and you’re confused how she's able to tell, especially since you just entered the living room a minute ago. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

Leah shrugs, a small pleased smile on her face. “You’ve never worn that shade before. It looks good. You’re so beautiful.”

You take a seat next to Leah, your heart hammering at Leah’s answer. “You notice.”

“Of course I do.” Leah replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You hope she won’t be able to tell just how much effect her words have on you, but it all goes out the window when you hear Leah’s soft giggles next to you. “You’re blushing. So cute.”

You don't know how to reply, you’re mostly afraid that if you open your mouth what comes out would be something that you shouldn’t be saying. So you turn your attention to the TV and you both watch in silence, Leah’s arms brushing against yours every now and then.

You keep on thinking about why you’ve been wanting to say a lot of things to Leah lately—something that isn’t entirely appropriate to say to a best friend.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Why is it that your face is the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I think of before I close my eyes?”

“Does your lips taste like how I imagined it to be? Like mint—or cherries, since that seems to be your favourite lip gloss nowadays.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“y/n?”

“Hm?”

“I said, do you want to watch something else?”

You look at the TV then back at Leah. Honestly, you have no idea what's playing. “No, this is good.”

“Are you sure?” Leah asks. “You don’t seem interested.”

You see the unsure look on Leah’s face and you reach out to caress her cheek. You feel like you’re about to pass out with the way Leah is looking at you.

“I’m very interested, don’t you worry.” you reply, your eyes never leaving Leah’s face.

Leah smiles (your favourite, the one that causes her eyes to shine and puts the stars in the sky to shame) and you feel those words on the tip of your tongue.

“I’m definitely in love with you.”

VI.

The first thing you do after the realization that you’re in love with your best friend is to avoid said best friend at all costs. This means no more weekly meetings at your favourite coffee shop (you call them meetings but Leah would always correct you.

“Just call it a date, y/n! Meetings sound so formal. You don’t only see us as teammates, don't you?”

“What? No. You’re one of my best friends.”

“Then it’s a date.”

You don't think friends go on dates but you keep quiet).

You also don't text back straight away every time Leah texts you, instead you wait a couple of hours. You rarely come home to the apartment—staying most nights at your mom’s place instead. And during training, you talk to everyone but Leah.

If Leah finds it odd, she doesn’t say anything.

Now it’s Saturday again and you’re thinking of ways to tell Leah that you, once again, can’t make it to your weekly coffee dates. But it’s been a month and you’re running out of excuses.

Last week you said you had to help your mom try a new recipe, the week before you said that Kyra had an emergency and she needs you, and you're sure that you’ve used the excuse of not feeling well before (maybe twice).

You know Leah is smart, she’ll figure out sooner or later that you're avoiding her—that is, if she hasn’t figured it out already. And you don't think you’re ready if Leah confronts you about it.

Just a few more weeks. You just need to avoid Leah for a few more weeks and hopefully whatever feeling you have for her will be non-existent and you’ll be back to having weekly platonic coffee dates with her.

Just as you will yourself to stop thinking about the blonde, a text pops up on your phone.

Leah: Hey where are you?

You take a deep breath before replying. You need to quickly think of a reason to not meet her today.

y/n: at my mom’s. why?

Leah: ok

y/n: …?

Leah: I’m coming over

y/n: what??

Leah: Is that a problem

You feel yourself panic. You don't think you’re ready for a confrontation.

y/n: I have plans tonight

Leah: okay? it’s still 3pm

The only thing you know is that you need Leah to not come over. You’re really not ready to have her standing in front of you. You’re scared that you won’t be able to think clearly and will do something insanely stupid (like tell her that you’re very much in love with her).

So you type the first thing on your mind.

y/n: yes, but I need to get ready

y/n: I have a date

Leah: a date?

You close your eyes, hoping that Leah will give up and just tell you that she’ll see you next time. But you should’ve known that Leah is persistent.

Leah: I’ll help you pick an outfit

Leah: Be there in 10

You curse at your inability to keep Leah away, but you’ll be lying if you say that you’re not excited to see her.

Leah doesn’t arrive until half an hour later. You’re in your childhood bedroom when you hear the doorbell ring, immediately making your heart speed up. You don't make a move to leave your room; you stay rooted until ten minutes have passed and you finally decide that maybe, it’s time for you to make your way downstairs.

The first thing you notice once you exit your room is the sound of laughter. Leah and your mom are close—something that fills your chest with warmth every time.

“Sweetheart! Leah here is just telling me about how she almost set the kitchen on fire.”

You can’t help but smile fondly at the memory. “Thank god I was there to save our kitchen.”

“Oh yeah,” Leah smiles at you and you feel like fainting. “Thank god for you.”

“Hi.” you say, standing behind the couch where both Leah and your mom are seated.

“Hi back.”

“Leah says you have a date,” your mom mentions and you freeze. “You never said anything about a date, did you sweetheart.”

“Right,” you scratch the back of your neck. You hope your voice doesn’t show how nervous you are. “A date. I do have that. Tonight.”

“With who?” It’s Leah who asks and you know you’re screwed.

“Just someone…” you trail off.

You see a flash of hurt on Leah’s face and you’ve always hated when Leah is anything but happy. So you squeeze Leah’s shoulder and try your best to smile reassuringly at her even though all you want to do is run far, far away. “Aren’t you going to help me pick an outfit?”

Leah nods. “Of course. You’ll look beautiful in anything but let’s pick the best outfit so your date will be blown away.”

You motion for Leah to follow you, quickly kissing your mom on the cheek before you leave upstairs. You feel yourself getting more and more nervous with each step towards your bedroom.

You try to convince yourself that there’s nothing to be nervous about; Leah has been in your childhood bedroom before. But when Leah immediately throws herself in your bed the moment she enters the room, humming as soon as her head hits the pillows, you know that you do have a right to be nervous.

You can’t screw things up between the both of you, but that’s exactly what you want to do, looking at the sight of Leah in your bedroom, acting like she’s at home.

You open your wardrobe, staring at the few clothes in front of you. “Honestly, there’s nothing nice here, since all my outfits are pretty much at our place.”

“Then why aren’t you getting ready at home?”

You freeze for a second but quickly regain your composure. “I had lunch with mom earlier, might as well get ready here.”

“You still haven’t told me who you’re going on a date with,” Leah asks, you note the tenseness in her voice. “I didn’t even know you’re seeing someone.”

“It’s uh, it’s new.” you stammer, distracting yourself by inspecting the dresses that are on the rack.

You hear Leah shift and the next thing you know she’s standing next to you.

“Let’s see,” Leah hums, her hand tracing your dresses until it lands on something. “I think this one.” Leah takes out a black spaghetti straps dress that lands on your thigh. You have no idea why out of all the dresses in front of you, Leah has to pick that one.

“This is the dress you wore in Ibiza, right?” Leah asks, her eyes roaming around the black clothing.

You nod in reply. “Should I try it on?”

Leah hummed in approval and you silently sigh because you really can’t say no to her. You take the dress and are about to walk to the bathroom when Leah speaks. “I’ve seen you naked all the time, cheeky. Why are you getting all shy now?”

Your eyes widened at the comment. “W-what?”

“What?” Leah asks back. “We’ve changed in front of each other all the time.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“But?”

You swallow nervously. What Leah said is true, but now you’re a mess of feelings, particularly regarding the blonde in front of you. “I’ll change… here… then.” you relents.

Leah goes to sit on the edge of your bed and look at you expectantly.

“But can you like,” you huff. “Close your eyes or something.” Leah lets out a laugh and you whine. “Leah, I’m serious.”

“Alright, alright.” Leah is still laughing but she places her hands over her eyes. “There. Happy?”

You quickly change into the dress Leah picked. You look at yourself in the mirror, the dress fits perfectly, your hair falling down your shoulders in messy waves.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

You snort, forgetting that Leah still has her hands over her eyes. You walk until you're in front of the English skipper and remove Leah’s hand from her face.

“How do I look?” you ask, posing with her hand on her hips.

Leah doesn’t answer straight away, her mouth staying agape for a few seconds until you have to snap your fingers to get her to say something. “Hey, Williamson?”

You see Leah blink a few times (there’s a hint of red on Leah’s cheeks but you don't mention it).

“Sorry,” Leah clears her throat. “You’re really beautiful, y/n.”

It’s at that moment that you realizes two things:

1. Leah has been calling you beautiful a lot. Like, a lot.

2. Every time Leah calls you beautiful, you feel a lot of things at once. Mostly it’s the feeling of wanting to kiss her.

“You think so?”

“Definitely,” Leah nods vehemently. “Your date is so lucky. You’re the most beautiful girl.”

And you can’t help but wonder how many times can a best friend say you’re beautiful until it means something more.

Leah is looking at you with the usual stars in her eyes, her lips curved upwards in a smile, and she looks so gorgeous that you can’t help but blurt out what you’ve been trying to suppress.

“Do you want to be my date then?”

You see a bunch of emotions flash Leah’s face as she tries to register your words in her brain—confused, shocked, apprehension, but you can see the tiny bit of excitement too.

Leah shoots up from the bed. “What?”

“I asked if you wanted to be my date.” You don’t know where all this confidence is coming from. You figure it’s due to the fact that Leah is looking at you like everything starts and stops with you. Like you’re the only thing that matters to her.

“Me?” Leah points at herself, a dumbfounded look on her face.

You try to hide your nervousness with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms across your chest. “Yes, you. Do you see anyone else in this room with us?”

It takes another minute for Leah to take in your words before she gives you an ear-splitting grin. “Did I hear that correctly? Wait—did I understand it correctly? Are you asking me out? You did, didn’t you? You asked me out.”

“Only if you want to, that is,” your nervousness kicked back in with full force. “I know we’re just best friends but-”

Leah cut you off. “You’re saying that you don’t actually have a date tonight, is that right? I can be your date tonight?”

“For god’s sake, yes.”

“So you were lying about having a date?” Leah smiles mischievously at you.

You look away, focusing on the window of your bedroom. “...Maybe.”

“Tsk.”

You turn your attention back to the girl in front of you. “So do you want to go out with me or n-”

“You’re saying that I get to be with the most beautiful girl in the world—no, the most beautiful girl in the universe?”

You bark a laugh at her. “That is so cheesy, Williamson. If you want to go on a date with me then you should tone down that cheesiness.”

Leah joins your laughter and scoops you up in a hug, twirling you around. “Leah!” you immediately wrap your arms around her neck, laughing into her shoulders. “Put me down!”

When Leah does and you can still see the huge grin on her face, you decide to finally figure out what her lips taste like.

And you're right, it does taste like cherries. But most importantly, it tastes like happiness with the way Leah’s grin melts into your lips.

“So were you ever going to tell me you have feelings for me or were you just going to call me beautiful every single day and hope that I took the hint?”

“…Hope you took the hint?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“But you love me.”

“That I do, baby. That I do.”

“I love you too, beautiful.”

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #awfc x reader #lionesses x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #awfc

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