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the-iceni-bitch · 10 months

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She’s Many Places

Relationship: amazon!lawyer Natasha Romanov x petite!curvy fem reader (Big Red and Peach, NLLYL AU)

Word Count: ~1.4k

Summary: You love when Nat comes home.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (titty worship, petting, teasing, f/f sex, mentions of f receiving oral sex), good natured teasing about sugar mommy/baby relationship even though that’s not what they have, so much fluff, age gap relationship, an offended kitten, SMUT! 18+ ONLY!

A/N: Some sapphic fluff for pride (yes I know it’s not still Pride, but that’s a technicality) and oh my god I love these two. They’re so sweet together and playful and they give me the heart eyes 😍

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on my fics, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Natasha hummed to herself as she shook the rain off her umbrella, grabbing the mail out of the box and taking one last look at the gray sky before walking into the brownstone.

“Baby?” She took off her coat and kicked off her pumps, unpinning her hair as she moved down the hall while Gus wound between her legs. “Peach, are you here?”

“I’m in the living room!” You beamed at her over the top of your book. “Is it still raining?”

“Yeah, it’s gloomy.” She scooped up the kitten and sank next to you on the couch, kissing your cheek before resting her head on your lap. “And work was long. How do you feel about ordering in?”

“I feel fantastic about it.” You ran your fingers through her hair while she pulled out her phone to order something. “I want pasta.”

“Pasta?” She kissed your fingers after you poked her nose affectionately. “We can do pasta. With garlic bread. Split a tiramisu?”

“Mmhm.”

These soft domestic moments were everything with Nat. It was like every moment the two of you spent together just being close made you fall in love with each other even more. Saturdays at the farmers market always left you smiling when she would buy you flowers and you would share fresh blueberry scones. Sunday mornings in bed together where you made her pancakes and the two of you ate in bed and did the crossword while the kitten napped in a sunbeam would set her heart fluttering. And every time it got rainy and gloomy outside when the two of you would just cuddle were perfect.

“Hey peach?” Nat beamed up at you when you peeked down at her, turning and wrapping her arms around you so she could nuzzle into your stomach. “I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you too, Nat.” You giggled when she kissed your tummy, trying not to squirm when she pinched your side and tickled you a little. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, wait a minute.” She scoffed when she pulled the blanket aside and saw what you were wearing, sitting up and pulling you into her lap while you squealed. “This is my sweatshirt!”

“It’s so comfy!” You laughed when she growled playfully and bit your neck, wiggling in her arms and gasping when she gave you a hickey. “Natasha!”

“What? It’s not like you have to go to the office.” She kissed the mark before pulling the collar of her sweatshirt aside to make another on your collarbone. “Bucky and his beefcake say hi, by the way.”

“My boys! I do miss them.” You tried to stay focused when she started kneading your ass but it wasn’t working. “I am enjoying my life as a sugar baby though.”

“Of course you are.” Nat purred when she edged her fingers under the edge of her sweatshirt and found you were only wearing panties. “Don’t even have to wear your own clothes, get to cuddle the kitten all day, and your pretty little pussy gets all the attention it deserves.”

“Wait, let me mark my page!” You screamed and laughed when she flung you down on the couch and climbed on top of you, your face heating up while the kitten ran off after screaming at the two of you for disturbing him. “Sorry Gus!”

“Gus will be fine.” Natasha grinned as she straddled your hips, her pencil skirt rising up her thighs until you could see the tops of her stockings while she tapped her finger against her plump bottom lip. God, she was hot, you still couldn’t believe she was in love with you sometimes. “Now, the food isn’t going to be here for twenty minutes, should I suck on your tits the whole time or just until your little pussy is all hot and wet then eat you out until you scream for me?”

“Well, I’m already wet.” You bit your lip and arched your back so the sweatshirt started to ride up your tummy, gasping when she reached between the two of you to rub your pussy through your panties. “Feel?”

“Yeah, I feel.” She started petting you while she leaned down to kiss your neck, tutting when you started to take off her sweatshirt. “That stays on. You wear my clothes, you get fucked in my clothes, new rule.”

“Okay.” You whined when she continued rubbing your cunt as she kissed her way down your chest. “You realize that’s not going to discourage me though?”

“It’s not supposed to, hush.” Nat winked at you before pushing her head under the sweatshirt and kissing the undersides of your breasts. “So soft.”

Natasha had never thought of herself as a tits man, but something about yours drove her fucking crazy. Maybe it was the way your pretty nipples would pebble as soon as her breath fanned over them, or when you shivered while she ran her nose along their soft curves. But she was pretty sure it was just because they were yours, and that you were so damn responsive when she paid any attention to them at all. So she started covering your chest with kisses, humming against your skin when you squirmed and whined for her.

Your eyes fluttered closed when she pulled as much of your breast into her mouth as she could and sucked softly, moaning as her tongue swirled around your nipple. She kneaded your other breast with her hand, smiling around your soft flesh when you arched your back to get even closer to her. When she felt you start to vibrate she bared her teeth, biting your nipple gently until you squealed.

“Natasha…” You laughed when she just grunted before kissing her way to your other breast. “One track mind.”

“Yep.” You could practically hear her smirking, but then she sucked on your nipple and pressed her fingers against your swollen clit through your panties and all you could do was whimper.

The rain kept pattering against the window as she worked you over like only she could, adding to the pleasant haze you were in while you gasped and sighed underneath her. She was so warm, so gentle with you. Her fingers kept stroking your pussy while she nibbled on your breast, rubbing your sensitive button until she heard your breath catch. All it took was a little pinch and you came with a squeak, your panties getting even more sticky as you gushed your release.

“Such a messy baby.” Nat ran her nose down your soft stomach slowly, her head slipping out from under her sweatshirt so she could grin at you. “You’re lucky I like it when all my furniture smells like you.”

“Oh my god, perv.” You giggled when she nipped at your hip before rubbing her nose over the gusset of your panties. “You’re such a dirty old lady.”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll spank you instead of licking your pussy.” She buried her face in your cunt and moaned even as she pinched your thigh in warning.

“Oh nooooooooo…” You yelped when she pulled back and swatted your pussy over your panties. “How terrible for me.”

“Oh… shut up.” Nat rolled her eyes before going back to work, taking the crotch of your panties between her teeth and growling mischievously when she started to drag them down your legs.

“Nat!” She didn’t stop when the doorbell rang, just grumbling as she kept dragging your underwear off like she was a riled up frat boy. “That’s the food!”

“But I’ve already got a warm, delicious meal right here.” Nat huffed when you poured at her, sitting up with your panties still in her mouth and giving you a show of sucking your juices out of them before she tossed them aside. “But I know you want your pasta.”

“Thank you.” You tugged the sweatshirt down to cover your hips and covered yourself with the blanket, clapping excitedly when you smelled the bolognese. “You’re the best sugar mommy ever.”

“You’re such a tease.” She pulled you into her lap after handing you your container, kissing your temple when you bit into your garlic bread. “I do love spoiling you, though, sweet little peach. So eat your pasta, and I’ll let you eat all the tiramisu while I have you for dessert.”

#natalie writes #happy pride 🌈#no love like your love: the city #big red and peach #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x petite!curvy reader #female reader #wlw fanfic #wlw fluff #eighteen plus

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alwaysmoncheri · 2 months

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summary: regulus joins the death eaters and your relationship is challenged by the dangers attached

cw: female!reader, angst, comfort, established relationship, fluff, mentions of the first wizarding war, mentions of death eaters, 1k, regulus black x reader

in the dimly lit corridors of hogwarts, you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions as the news of regulus’s forced decision to join the ranks of the death eaters reaches your ears. the weight of disappointment and concern settles heavily on your shoulders as you grapple with the reality of the dangerous situation.

unable to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest, you seek out the solitude of the astronomy tower. the wind whistles through the open windows, carrying with it the echoes of your troubled thoughts. you gaze out over the castle grounds, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on the landscape as if the very walls of hogwarts hold secrets too heavy for the night.

your heart pounds with a mix of sadness and fear as you remember the genuine smile that once adorned regulus's face. the person you knew seemed to be slipping away, entangled in the darkness that threatened to consume him. the path he was forced to choose filled you with an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

just as the cold wind seems to seep into your very soul, the stairs behind you let out a loud creak, and regulus black steps onto the astronomy tower. his dark eyes, once filled with warmth, now hold a distant and haunted look. the sight of him clad in the dark robes that remind you of a death eater sends shivers down your spine.

"y/n," he utters, his voice strained and laced with an unspoken turmoil. you turn to face him, and the pain etched across his features strikes you like a physical blow. this was not the regulus you had known—the kind, gentle soul who had stolen your heart. instead, before you stands a shadow, a reflection of the choices he had made.

he approaches slowly, as if unsure of whether he deserves your presence. the air crackles with tension, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. in the silence that stretches between you, the weight of unspoken words hangs heavily.

"I never wanted you to see me like this," regulus admits, his eyes avoiding yours, “I hoped this day would never come.” he adds, running an anxious hand through his unruly curls to brush them away from his eyes.

you take a deep breath, and take a couple of hesitant steps closer to your boyfriend, mustering the courage to confront the reality unfolding before you. "regulus, why?”

his gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the mask slips, revealing the conflict raging within him. "I thought it was the only way to protect those I care about. to protect you.”

a bitter mix of anger at his parents and sadness for the situation wells up within you. "protect me? what about us? what about the life we wanted?”

regulus's jaw tightens, his unease evident, but he proceeds to take a couple of steps closer to you, attempting to reach out. "you don't understand. I had no other choice.” he explains, settling the blame firmly on his parents. his explanation hangs in the air, a desperate attempt to justify a decision that seems irreversibly damaging. the rift between you grows, fueled by the choices that had led regulus down this treacherous path.

you step back, denying his attempt to reach for your hand and a flicker of vulnerability crosses his eyes as he senses that he’s losing you. "regulus, you’re going down a path that I cannot follow.” you whisper before brushing past him and rushing back to your dorm to succumb to your emotions alone.

regulus's gaze follows you, and for a moment, he thinks about chasing after you. he wishes to squeeze your hand, as a silent acknowledgment of the lifeline he longs to provide for you. but he knows he has to let you go, if you’ve made up your mind, then there is no way he’d get you back. he needs to let you go because he loves you, and that means he would end the world to make you happy—even if that means without him.

—

days turn into weeks, and the distance between you and regulus seems to widen. one evening, you find regulus alone in a hidden corner of the library. his gaze is distant, lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts. the air cracks with tension as you approach, uncertain of what lies ahead.

"regulus," you speak softly, the sound of your voice breaking through the uneasy silence.

he turns to face you, and the weariness in his eyes speaks volumes, but the spark of hope beneath that speaks louder. "y/n, you were right. you shouldn't be here. it’s dangerous." regulus whispers, returning a book to the shelf and attempting to brush past you, just like you’d done the night in the astronomy tower.

you grab his hand before he can run away, refusing to be deterred. "no, I was wrong. I won't let you face this alone.” you say, shaking your head, “we can find a way together.”

regulus's gaze wavers, the conflict within him visible. "he’s planning a war, y/n. being close to me would mean you're always going to be at risk. " he responds, his voice barely audible.

you step closer, determined to bridge the gap between the two of you. "regulus, please. you don't have to face this alone."

a vulnerable silence hangs in the air, and then, unexpectedly, regulus breaks down. the walls he had built crumble, and you find yourself holding him as he weeps. the weight of the choices, the darkness, and the burden of a path he is walking alone overwhelms him. you begin to whisper words of solace, offering reassurance that he doesn’t have to walk through this darkness alone.

as the tears subside, regulus clings to you—in the dark corner of the library, as if afraid that letting go would mean losing the only anchor he has left. the journey ahead is uncertain, and the war threatening to break out scares you more than anything ever has, but you vow to stand by regulus’s side. together you will find a way to make it out. love had always been your guiding light, a beacon in the shadows, as you face the daunting task of rescuing the lost soul of regulus black from the clutches of voldemort and the death eater’s grip.

masterlist ❧ regulus black masterlist ❧ taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 8 months

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Somebody to Heal, Somebody to Hold

(Joel Miller x dispensary! reader)

Chapter 2: Silver Haze

Chapter 1 here || Chapter 3 here || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x dispensary! reader, AU (no outbreak) Word count: 5.6K Rating: 18+ minors DNI, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut), swearing, explicit discussions of drug use, age gap (reader is early 20s and Joel is late 40s) Summary: Joel can't rely on pills anymore for his back pain, so his doctor prescribes him medicinal marijuana. But he's not happy about it. A/N: PEEPAW IS FINALLY GETTING HIGH Y'ALL. 🍃 🔥 💨

This chapter was fun to write and I'm really pleased with how it turned out. Thank to you anyone who has expressed interest in this silly little story and wants to see more. I doubt my writing capabilities pretty much every single day on this site, and often wonder if it's worth it to keep writing, but I still wanted to indulge in this story. Mostly, cause I'm selfish and would throw myself in front of a moving vehicle if it meant getting to smoke weed with Pedro, and more specifically our grumpy texan gentleman, Mr. Joel Miller. An enormous thank you to @iamasaddie for beta'ing, and your constant words of encouragement when I start to doubt myself in the slightest, you are my heartbeat ❤️

Hope y'all enjoy, please comment, reblog and let me know what you think! 😇

It’s been less than a day. 18 hours to be exact, since he came home from the dispensary with his illicit, but also legal drugs. The bag filled with the package of joints sits in the middle of his kitchen table. He eyed it as he leaned up against the counter drinking his coffee, and while he ate his breakfast at the table in contemplative silence that morning.

This shouldn’t be such a big deal. He’s a grown man for crying out loud. He can buy drugs if he wants to. Not that he necessarily wanted to. Purchasing medicinal marijuana was the furthest thing from Joel’s mind when he ran through possible options of dealing with his pain problems. Really, he is just surprised with himself that he actually went through with the doctor’s suggestion.

He doesn’t know if he should feel relieved, or guilty, or a little curious. Maybe all of the above.

He wished he could have someone to talk to who has personally tried it before. Aside from Doctor Barclay, he didn’t really have anyone at all. His buddies would probably either: A) tell him he just needed to sleep off the pain, drink something heavy to knock himself out or work through the pain- which, if he’s being honest with himself, is precisely what he would have done if not for that sharp twinge in his back that makes him want to curl up in the fetal position. Or B) they would try to get him to take something stronger and undoubtedly more illicit. He doesn’t know how, hell he doesn’t wanna know how, but some of his buddies manage to get their hands on cocaine or acid. Sometimes they don’t even bother till they get off the jobsite after a long day, often snorting up or popping pills in their truck and then driving to a shitty dive bar they plan on occupying for the rest of the night.

Nope. He didn’t need that. He felt like enough of a delinquent already. He stops drumming his fingers on the table and sighs, tilting his head to the side contemplatively.

“Ah fuck it”

He grabs the bag and reaches into it, pulling out the carton with the pre-rolls, leaving the receipt in the bag. The label reads ‘Back Forty’s Moonberry’ in an almost psychedelic font, with deep purple letters. Turning the little box over in his hand, he squints at the description on the back.

“Back Forty’s Moonberry Rolls are powerful hybrid cross pre-rolls that offer big hits of flavour and an even burn. A nice, mellow and sweet way to start and/or finish your day, relaxation is guaranteed with these. Packed with a re-sealable film to ensure freshness after multiple sessions or on-the-go. Take a trip and relax with the Back Forty.”

“Take a trip and relax?” Joel huffed. That kind of trip sounded anything but relaxing. Anxiety starts to claw its way up his throat.

What if something happened? What if he reacted badly to the weed or ended up taking more than he should? There were no specific instructions. What if it just didn’t fucking work in general?

The doctor's words rang loudly in his head. He knew this was an option, an ‘alternate method’ as Dr. Barclay so delicately put it. But if this didn’t make the pain go away and he couldn’t take more prescription medication, what then?

He leaned back in seat and groaned, staring up at the ceiling. He could try one. Just one. But if it tasted like shit or he didn’t like it, then what? He didn’t want to be stuck with the whole pack and he doubted there was much of a return policy on opened products at the dispensary, seeing as the merchandise was already consumed.

Before his thoughts could snowball any further he snatched the carton of joints and shoved it back in the bag. “Fuck this,” he grumbled, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair as he made his way to the front door, the tiny plastic bag clutched in his other hand.

—------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long for Joel to reach the dispensary. When he pulled into the parking lot, he turned off the ignition and sat in his truck for a minute. One minute turned to five minutes as he bit his lip, his left hand still firmly holding onto the plastic bag. He felt like he was forgetting something. Reaching into his coat pocket absentmindedly he felt his wallet and his phone. Digging into the other pocket he paused as he felt his fingers run over a small tactile shape. He pulled it out and held it upright in his palm. The free lighter you gave him.

He rolled it over in his hand, looking at the store name printed on shiny cheap plastic, his thumb running over the rounded edges. He flicked the lighter once, and with a crisp snap, a small flame erupted, burning brightly.

His mind drifts to you. You were kind and patient with him, despite probably thinking he was a creep or some kind of fucking narc with how awkward he was. He feels heat rise to his cheeks as he recalls your soft eyes and warm, inviting demeanour. Maybe it's possible you were working again today. If that was the case he could just go in, explain to you that there was a mixup and return the pre-rolls, then buy a bottle of Tylenol on the way home, and wash it down a handful with a double whiskey, sealing his fate.

Fuck the weed. Fuck the back pain. Fuck the cholesterol. End of story.

His palm curls around the lighter as he steels himself and gets out of the car, still holding onto the plastic bag. He strides through the front door and is surprised to see the check in desk is empty, with only the '18+ ONLY PERMITTED ENTRY' sign on the desk.

At this point, he would be content to just drop the bag off at the register and head back out with his pride still in tow. Forget getting a refund.

“Hey! Back so soon?”

He looks up as he walks through the second set of doors into the shop and slows in his tracks as he sees you.

“Joel, right?”

You’re fixing a display case off to the side. He can’t help but let his gaze wander down your body. When he came in yesterday you were standing behind the register so all he could really see was the nondescript black t-shirt you wore with the dispensary logo over the chest.

Today you’re wearing the same shirt with plain black leggings that hug the curve of your hips and your ass. Nothing special, but still Joel feels his mouth go dry and the blood starts to rush south in his body.

He pauses and squints slightly. Wait, you remembered his name?

“Uh yeah. How’d you-”

“Photographic memory, thanks to being the doorman.” You reply simply.

You head back behind the register and lean your forearms on the counter, flashing him a dazzling smile. “So, what can I help you with today? Looking for more pre-rolls? Some edibles?”

At this point you could sell him anything and he would buy it, with the smile you’re giving him. Hell, you could give him 15 more of those cheap tiny lighters and he would happily take them. Maybe he doesn’t really need to return the pre-rolls, he could always just leave them.

You spot the small bag clutched in his hand before he can hide it and raise your eyebrows at him.

“Actually, I uh,” he pauses, “I wanted to return these, if that’s okay.” He places the bag on the counter and pulls his hand back quickly, as if it burned him, his eyes flitting to yours before looking away again.

“Oh sure, no problem.” You pull out the unopened pack of joints and the receipt. “Were you not a fan of these, or did you maybe want to try something else?”

“Uhm, just wasn’t a fan of them, didn’t think I’d like them..” He mumbles and shoves his hands in his coat pocket.

You’re in the middle of reversing the transaction at the register when your finger hovers over the keyboard, mid-type. “Didn’t like them? It looks like you didn’t try them though,” you quirk a brow at him and tilt your head to the side. “How do you know you don’t like them if you didn’t try them?”

“Well I, uh-” he frowns as he tries to think of a response.

Christ. He’s not getting out of this without swallowing his pride and admitting the truth. His anxiety hits him full force, and you must see him start to backpedal cause you speak up again.

“Hey it’s okay, you can always try something else. How do you feel about edibles? Or drinks?”

No. He just wants to forget that this entire situation happened.

“No, no it’s okay,” he vehemently shakes his head and starts to back away from the counter, “I’ll just look into some other options.” Even as he straightens his back and starts to retreat, he feels that nagging pinch shoot up his spine and he clenches his jaw.

“Joel, have you never smoked before? It’s okay if you haven’t” You’re looking up at him intently with those bright eyes, concern etched into your features.

Well, there’s no way out now.

He sighs in defeat and looks down at the ground. “No, I haven’t. Guess that much is obvious,” he remarks as he puts his hands on his hips, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“That’s completely normal, trust me” you reassure him as you lean closer over the counter, planting your palms on either side of you.

He snorts. “Yeah right.”

“It’s true! Before you came in the other day I cashed out a kid who looked like he was barely legal. He came in looking like a deer in headlights. We get customers every day who have never consumed marijuana a day in their life, not just potheads.”

He eyes you warily, still biting the inside of his cheek.

“It’s not a big deal Joel really. Is… Is there anything you’re worried about happening?”

He’ll have to tell you now. Tell you that he’s really just a big middle-aged wimp who’s too afraid to get stoned and deal with his pain problems.

“I.. I’ve just never tried it before, that’s all,” he shrugs plainly, “I don’t know what to expect. I mean, I know you said it’ll help with the pain and all, help me be more relaxed but I’m just worried I’ll get addicted or overdose, or somethin’ will happen…”

“Jesus,” he runs his hand over his face, “it’s fucking stupid.”

“No, no it’s not.” You cut him off before he continues. “Those are perfectly reasonable things to think about, if you’ve never smoked before. Many people worry the same thing.”

“First of all, it is possible to get addicted,” you explain cautiously, “But you would have to be consuming it nearly every day, all day before it reaches a point where you can’t function without it. And that usually happens with strains that are high in THC, the psychoactive stuff that gets you high.”

“But,” you emphasize upon seeing him tense up, “these pre-rolls you purchased are pretty low in THC, so it’s very unlikely you would get addicted, even if you smoked 'em everyday. You don’t have to worry about that.” At that he relaxes and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Secondly, it is not possible to overdose on weed. Not even the strongest weed. I mean, I’m no fucking scientist and they haven’t conducted any studies on it or anything, but there have been no reported overdose deaths due to marijuana consumption,” You wink at him.

He huffs out an exhale, giving you a hint of a smile. “That makes it a bit better.”

“If you’re still really worried about it, I could show you if you want. To smoke that is,” you add on quickly. “I know it’s nerve wracking to try it on your own for the first time, and it can be better if you’re with someone, y’know, just in case something happens or you don’t like it.”

“Really?" He looks at you expectantly with rounded eyes. "You’d do that?”

“Yeah, I get off my shift here at 5 so I could do it after?” You bite your lip and look up at him bashfully. He tracks the movement, watching your tongue peek out to soothe your bottom lip.

“Sure, that’d be great. Where should we meet?”

“We could always go to a park or something nearby. But even though weed is legalized, I feel weird smoking it in public places around families and young kids and stuff. And you’d have to drive home afterwards, which is not a good idea.” You scrunch your brows and bite your lip again as you try to think of other spots.

Joel tries to ignore how cute you look with your brows pulled together like that. He also tries to ignore the way his pulse kicks up as he watches you bite your lip, imagining other scenarios that could cause you to bite your lips like that again.

“Uhm, you could come to my place?” Immediately he sees the hesitation wash across your face and realizes how that sounds as soon as the request leaves his mouth. You aren’t stupid. He’s a complete stranger to you.

“Sorry. I mean,” he backtracks. “It’s just me and my daughter at home, although she’s away at college right now. My neighbors aren’t particularly nosy but they’re usually not home either. We can go on the back patio, it’s covered and I got tables and chairs and stuff. ”

And stuff. Jesus.

It’s like he’s 18 years old again, with marbles in his mouth, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Something about mentioning Sarah seems to put your mind at ease as he sees your shoulders lower as you shift your weight from one hip to the other. You chuckle and give him a smirk.

“That sounds good. I can meet you there, does 5:30 work?”

“Yeah, yeah that works. Thanks.” He ducks his head and gives you a small smile.

“Alright well I’ll see you then.”

He turns to leave before you call him again, holding the small plastic bag up. “You’ll still need these, otherwise we won’t get very far,” you wink at him.

“Right. Yeah that would help,” he chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll see you then.” He grabs the bag from you and gives you one last smile before he heads out the store.

—------------------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly, Joel didn’t live that far, probably a 12 minute drive from the dispensary. That didn’t mean that you took your time though, going the speed limit and dragging out the drive as it dawned on you how weird this scenario was.

He was a customer. And he was way older than you. Something that should have bothered you more than it actually did, which is to say not that much at all. It just made you hopelessly more attracted to him.

As much as he seemed sweet from the two interactions you had, plus the unmistakable way you caught his gaze raking over your body, the rational part of your brain still questioned what you were doing. He didn’t live alone, not technically. You were surprised to learn he had a daughter, but he also didn’t mention having a wife or a girlfriend. Not that it was any of your business. Nevertheless, you tucked that piece of information into the back of your mind as you pulled up to his place.

He had a nice, modest house, at least from what you could tell when he answered the front door with a soft smile. He led you around to the back to the surprisingly large backyard, but what impressed you the most was the wooden deck which featured a nice patio set, complete with overflowing planters, a cute coffee table, and outdoor string lights that were hung up overhead.

You noticed some plastic butterfly fairy lights hanging off of a few deck posts and railings, their colors faded after years of weathering. Running your fingers along the molded ornaments you looked at him and smiled, “nice touch.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “My daughter, Sarah, insisted on putting them up as soon as we finished the deck a couple years ago.”

“You built this?” You look around incredulously. “It’s really nice. Like straight out of a Home Depot catalog.”

At that he puffs out his chest slightly and shoves his hands in his pocket. “Eh, I don't know about that. When I’m not working a job and got spare time, I try to do stuff around the house. This was a quick project one summer,” he shrugs noncommittally.

“A quick project? You built a whole new part of your house Joel,” you raise your eyebrows at him as you sit down on the couch. Still, he brushes off the compliments and asks you if you want anything to drink. Moments later, you’re both sitting on the couch, two glasses of water and the pre rolls on the coffee table, along with the lighter and a small ashtray you brought. Another small cheap item from the dispensary with the logo on it, that no one would likely notice had gone missing.

He shuffles beside you momentarily. You can feel his nerves creeping back as he fidgets and leans forward, resting his arms on his knees.

God he’s so .. big. You can feel the couch cushion dip underneath his weight beside you. His shoulders dwarf the space between you. It doesn’t help that with him being this close you can faintly smell him. The lingering scent of sandalwood, and a sharpness to whatever body wash he uses swirls together in a heady concoction that has your brain short circuiting.

You already knew he was attractive from the moment he walked into the dispensary. But now, getting a chance to drink him in, you’re incredibly flustered. His deep brown eyes are easy enough to get lost in, as are his high cheekbones, aquiline nose, and strong jaw. A jaw peppered with gray stubble and a few sparse patches, that he’s currently tensing as he looks down in front of him. Your gaze follows his to the opened package of joints that are sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

“So what do we, uhm, where do we start?” He looks from the stuff on the table to you.

“Well, there’s really only one step with these pre rolls, you just light 'em up and inhale, and let the relaxation kick in.”

“Seems easy enough,” he gives you a small smirk.

Reaching forward, you pluck one of the slim joints off the table and you grab the lighter as well. The free lighter you gave him.

“Have you ever smoked a cigarette before?” You hold the joint between your index and middle finger, turning to look at him.

He scrunches his face slightly and his brows furrow. “Yeah, long time ago though, not since college. Back when this stuff was still illegal anyway.”

You can’t really imagine young Joel in college. He must have been handsome. That much you were willing to bet money on.

“So basically the Woodstock, hippie, peace and love era?” you ask him with a smirk.

“Now, I may be old but I ain’t that fuckin senile” he squints his eyes at you, but there’s a small smile pulling at the side of his mouth. You bite your lip and smile at him.

“Well, not much has changed since then. You light it, and start to inhale as the flame catches and the weed starts burning. Don’t inhale too much but try to hold that smoke in your chest for a couple seconds, don’t exhale right away. The longer you hold in your breath, the quicker your body absorbs the cannabinoids in the weed.”

He looks at you intently as you explain it to him, but you can still see a bit of confusion on his face, so you elaborate.

“Cannabinoids meaning the THC and CBD, the stuff that cause you to feel relaxed and high”

He nods and you place the joint between your lips, raising your hand to light it, as you inhale deeply, the faint crackling sound of the paper and herb burning. The smoke slowly fills your lungs as they expand, and you let your eyes go heavy as you savor the earthy, fruity taste of the herb as it burns.

You pull the joint away and let your mouth fall slightly open, holding some smoke in your chest as the rest of it falls out of your mouth in an opaque cloud, curling out into random tendrils before it disperses in the air. Exhaling, you turn to Joel and reach your hand out, offer the joint.

He blinks at you a few times. There’s something in his gaze, something heated that you catch, before they refocus and he looks down at the joint in between your fingers. You can see him hesitate again as he stares at the joint.

You duck your head slightly to meet his eyesight.

“Hey, you can take as much or as little as you’d like Joel. Start off with a small pull and see how it feels.” You say, not pressing him any further than that, as thin wisps of smoke curl upwards between you two from the joint.

He looks at you again, his eyes are big and round, like the cutest fucking puppy dog ever. The crease between his eyebrows disappears, as does the frown that seemed permanently etched on his face. It’s almost like he’s asking you for permission. You tilt your chin upwards slightly in encouragement and smile.

“Alright.” He takes the joint from you, mimicking how you held it, bringing it to his lips and looking at you as he inhales. His eyes squint and he frowns slightly as he pulls from it, his broad chest puffing out a bit, the embers at the lit end of the joint glowing. He heeds your instructions, holding the smoke in his chest for a few seconds before exhaling, and you nod in approval.

Fuck.

You expected that maybe that he would wrinkle his face in disgust right away, or start coughing obscenely the moment the smoke entered his lungs. The usual things that beginner smokers do.

But what you’re definitely not expecting is how fucking attractive Joel looks while smoking. Or rather, how attractive he makes smoking look. Either way you’re mesmerized by the way he casually holds the joint between his thick index and middle fingers, the way the smoke pours out from between his lips. Even the way he turns his head away from you so that he doesn’t exhale in your direction. He smokes like he’s done it multiple times before.

You snap yourself out of your daze when he raises his eyebrows at you, his hand stretched out to you offering the joint. Narrowing your gaze at him, you take it from his hand, your fingers, brushing against his.

“You smoke like a veteran Joel. Are you sure this is your first time?” Eyeing him suspiciously, you bring the joint to your lips and pull from it again, this time holding the smoke in for a bit longer, allowing it to fill your lungs.

You can feel the moment that the high starts to creep up on you. The moment that the THC starts to permeate your bloodstream. Everything slows down, flooding your system with a hazy warmth and lightness. Your head is a bit light and you feel your body begin to buzz, as if every part of you is vibrating with mellow energy while you exhale.

Joel makes the sign of the cross over his chest and leans back, settling into the couch.

“I promise darlin, first time.” He replies in that warm fucking Southern drawl.

Darlin.

God. The word slips out of his mouth like molasses, caressing your skin, as you feel your body heat up ever so slightly. You wet your lips, the dryness of cotton mouth hitting you with full force as you watch Joel spread his legs, the further he reclines back and relaxes into his seat.

The downright thirst you’re experiencing for this man however is something else entirely. It must be the Indica. Just the weed, nothing else.

You sit back into the couch as well and pass the joint back to him. “Well, in that case I’m honored to have taken your weed virginity Joel Miller.” Pressing your hand to your heart, you give him a cheeky grin and bow your head.

At that remark his eyes widen and he actually does start coughing harshly mid-inhale, sputtering and hunching over as he shoves the joint back into your hands. You anticipated he would have coughed up a lung anyways with it being his first time but you can’t help the laugh that you let out at his misery.

“Oh shit! Sorry man, are you okay?” The concern in your voice is genuine but you’re still giggling as he gathers himself, slamming his fist against his chest a few times while his coughs die down. He grabs his glass of water off the table and takes a few sips, still breathing a bit heavy as his lungs try to suck in more air.

When he opens his mouth to speak, you’re caught off guard by how husky and deep his voice sounds. Deeper and more raspy than it usually is.

“Jesus, I’ve been called many things before but being a weed virgin, that’s a first.” He chuckles softly and looks at you. “Besides, I bet you say that to everyone who smokes with you for their first time.”

You shake your head with a small smile as you take another toke from the joint. “Actuallyyyy,” you drag out the ‘y’ as you glance up at him from under your lashes, “you’re the first one.” As if admitting that to him is some kind of secret that you’re embarrassed to share.

His eyebrows scrunch together again in disbelief. “No fucking way, c’mon”

“I’m serious." You giggle through your words and draw a cross over your heart, mimicking him. "None of my other friends smoke, the only other stoners I know are my co-workers.”

“Plus, I know it can be a big deal, trying it for the first time, and ideally people want to smoke with someone they trust, whom they know they’re gonna have a good experience with. So I’m grateful you let me share that with you.”

You try to ignore the way your pulse quickens as Joel’s gaze softens while looking at you. You clear your throat and look down at the lighter in your hand, picking at the plastic label.

“I should be the one thanking you. For your patience, and showing me the ropes with this stuff.” He gestures to all the paraphernalia on the table in front of you both and sighs. “I wasn’t keen on trying marijuana. Regardless of whether it was ‘medicinal’ or not.” He huffs as he makes the little air quotes with his hands.

“When my doctor suggested it for my back pain, I was about ready to get up and walk out of the office, but he also made it pretty clear there weren’t many other options. Had to swallow my pride and give it a go. So thank you,” he leans into you a bit with his shoulder, giving you a playful shove, “For making this a good first experience for me.”

He gives you a sheepish smile. Your body begins to heat up at his close proximity.

“Anytime, Joel. Really.” You angle your upper body towards him and look up at him. Your gaze flicks from his deep amber eyes, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes again. You almost miss how his eyes track yours, dipping down to your lips for a millisecond before he blinks.

Jesus. You need to get a grip.

“Uhm, how do you feel right now?” You switch the subject in an attempt to shut your cavewoman brain off.

He pauses for a minute and he looks off to the side like he’s running an internal diagnostic scan. That crease in his brow deepens slightly before his expression softens and he looks back at you with wide eyes. “I actually feel pretty good. A little out of it but pretty relaxed.”

“And the back pain?” You tilt your head at him.

He shifts a bit in his seat and leans forward, straightening and stretching his spine, twisting from side to side, gauging the movement. A baffled expression crosses his face. Actually, flabbergasted might be a better word to describe it.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, “barely any pain at all,” he laughs in disbelief as he looks at you with bright eyes.

“That’s amazing Joel! I’m glad it could help” You beam up at him, still mindlessly puffing away at the joint. You slowly let the cloud of smoke fall out of your mouth, as it spills out you start to inhale the opaque cloud through your nose again.

Joel’s smile falls faintly, and his expression morphs into fascination as he watches the smoke disappearing up into your nose. His eyes are rounded. Like a child who just watched a magician pull a coin out of their ear.

“That’s fancy,” he murmurs.

“Huh?” You exhale the rest of the smoke in a large plume towards the ceiling, and look back at him. “Oh. What? This?” You mimic the action again, pulling from the joint and allowing the smoke from your mouth to disperse into the air, as you inhale it again through your nose.

“It’s a French inhale, nothing fancy. More of a force of habit,” you chuckle dryly. “I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the time, but it was the first trick I learned.”

You look at him sideways but he’s still watching you. The fascination is gone, replaced by a darker expression. Hunger.

Was that weird? Does he think you’re pretentious for trying to look cool in front of him?

“Tricks eh?” He repeats after you and tilts his head slightly. All of a sudden you feel like prey, under his predatory gaze. As if he’s assessing you, sizing you up, about to devour you. You feel your throat start to go dry, and this time you doubt you can blame it on having cotton mouth.

“That’s pretty cool. Can you do any others?” He asks.

Aside from the French inhale, there’s really only two others that you can do. The ghost and doing the classic O’s or rings.

“Uhm, a few others yeah but I’m not that great at them.” You blink a few times and look down at your hands.

“Now that I’ll call bullshit on,” he quips. He relaxes into the couch, draping one arm over the back while spreading his legs wide, his other hand in his lap.

His gaze pierces yours as he murmurs. “C’mon. Show me.”

You’d hardly call it peer pressure but the way his voice gets even deeper and he takes up more space with his position, convinces you.

Resistance is futile at this point. He could ask you to do anything in that fucking tone of voice and you would do it.

You exhale shakily as if you’re about to put on the biggest fucking performance of your lifetime.

For whatever reason, you want him to be impressed by you. Fascinated by you. So you steel yourself and hold his gaze as you take another pull from the joint as it starts to burn out.

Holding the smoke in your mouth, you slowly tilt your head back and pout your lips slightly, making an O shape with your mouth, pushing the smoke out in brief pauses. The first few that come out are a bit small and wonky, but as you keep going, the rings of smoke become thicker, forming perfect O’s that float upwards, dissipating into the air.

You exhale the rest of the smoke out in a rush, stubbing the joint in the ashtray. “I’m a bit rusty. It took a while to teach myself how to do them.”

You add that part onto the end, to stroke your own ego mostly, but also because you selfishly want to elicit more praise from him. Which he willingly gives you.

“Don’t seem that rusty to me at all darlin’. That’s pretty damn cool.” He rubs his jaw with his thumb and index finger, brushing his thumb over his bottom lip.

“You’ll have to teach me some tricks, some other time.” His hungry expression falters as he gives you a genuine smile, not before it’s interrupted by the quietest rumbling sound. His eyes widen slightly before he clears his throat and starts fidgeting a bit more, flexing and flexing the hand in his lap.

You hum and grin at him deviously.

“Hmmm, it sounds like the munchies have kicked in at this point.” You return the playful shove but he barely moves an inch, his broad shoulder feeling like a solid wall. “You hungry?”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #petition to GET THAT OLD MAN HIGH #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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definitelynotbrucewayne · 1 year

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Sevika x Petite! FemReader (Headcanons)

Warnings: Pretty NSFW near the end, size difference kink(?)

Enjoy!

💕 She’s obviously, unquestionably a top. Sevika would even further embrace her assertive side when it comes to you. She enjoys being the more dominant person in a relationship, of course.

💕 This would result in her carrying you around as she pleases. And in many ways, too: fire-fighter (over the shoulder), bridal, on her shoulders, front-facing/straddled, and more.

💕 Your small size also causes her to be a little... protective. If you’re in a serious, committed relationship, she’ll probably object to you exploring The Fissures, especially by yourself.

💕 While it’ll take a while before your relationship reaches this level of intimacy, she’ll constantly showers you with affection. Cuddles, head-pats, kisses (short and sweet or long and intense), hugs, hand-holding, and more are all staples of acts that you recieve daily from her.

💕 In further detail, Sevika will constantly exhibit these forms of physical affection, especially when you’re in a safe space (i. e. your home, her home, a home belonging to both of you).

💕 You’ll be trying to work and she’ll just scoop you up to litter kisses all over your face. Even if it interferes with what you’re working on, she’ll persevere. In fact, she’ll be even more invested in doing so if you begin to pout about it.

NSFW from here!

💗 While Sevika likes to act as if she’s tough-as-nails, she’s secretly a big softie; you being the perpetrator of really bringing out that side of her. In steamier situations, she’s especially gentle and caring by default due to your petite frame. But if you’d prefer, she can be very rough.

💗 One of her favorite non-explicit aspects of smexy times with you is holding you-- holding you down, holding you in place, holding you in her arms-- I could go on. She’ll grip onto the sides of your torso, tour hips, you thighs, your ankles, or your upper back as you arch yourself into the mattress or toss your head back in ecstasy.

💗 Another thing she loves to do to you in order to display her strength is to toss you into bed. She’s always gentle, but it’s certainly a thrill.

💗 She finds it so arousing when your little body is being conquered by her. It’s enough for her to complete nearly from that alone.

Thanks for reading 👍 Have a wonderful day !!

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sttoru · 9 months

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ima tell u this now : if u hate on x reader fics, block me cus by doing that you r doing us both a great favour 🤚🏽 ion need any of ur negativity on my blog because this is a safe space for people who do enjoy x reader fics goodbye

#𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆.#im gonna vent a bit in tags so ignore #bcs ive seen like two hate posts on x reader w a lot of interaction #and ima say this #leave ppl alone … maybe.. idk? like to each their own #its not that hard to block people if you don’t like their content #i swear we x reader writers wont even mind or notice if u do #we’d be so glad if u just block us completely #like god bless u for taking out the negativity (you) from our blog #i might not like oc fics but do u see me hating on them?? no bcs i just scroll past them #sometimes i even read them bcs thers no harm in trying out different things #and some of them are rlly good !!!#but ay just leave ppl be and stop acting stupid n pathetic 😟…#ofc everyone should tag their posts accordingly #i do too #but can u blame ppl for enjoying what they read?#ik some of u dislike it bcs reader is most likely written as a petite white female #but the x reader fics im reading dont have such descriptions added at all #yall just looking at the wrong stuff #but maybe its bcs i follow mainly poc / black writers 🤷🏽‍♀️#anyway i love when i can insert myself in fics and feel appreciated idk abt yall #but hating on ppls enjoyments is a bit.. childish #i thought we left that behind #and grew up #but okk!! do what u gotta do ig #main point: block x reader tags + the writers you come across #u r doing both of us a HUGE favour 😋 !#tw discourse #tw vent #cw vent

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ghouljams · 6 months

Note

oh that Anon who said you didn't write reader inserts, I will fight them for you, because your fics genuinely feel free form. Like I have read GN!readers where they use descriptions like petite and short even in m! Or Gn! Reader inserts. Especially when it comes to Soap. Like soap is 172 cm He is my height he ain't dwarfing me.

He might be able to trap me between those big strong meaty arms and making me stupid, but I don't have to tip toe to kiss the bastard. Yet every single reader insert fic I've read outside of a handful of really well written blogs has descriptions like "you stood on your tip toes to kiss him" or "he was easily twice your height" like bitch no. Like genuinely being technically a short man I can insert myself into the character of hush without thinking "damn the author has a very specific demographic and I ain't it."

Personally I prefer reader inserts that use nicknames because y/n, c/s, ECT. Just break the immersion of the story. Not to mention it helps create diversity in the reader characters which personally just makes it more interesting to read. Sorry I saw the anon and got frustrated. Your writing is fantastic. I hope you're doing well. There is definitely criticism to be had in a lot of reader insert fics, but coming up with minor background details and nicknames is just not it.

-Hot mess rambler Anon

Yes to everything you just said. I know I've had the height conversation a million times, I'm tall and petite reader inserts always take me out of the story. BUT ALSO I have read so many x reader fics where the reader is described as having long hair! Explicitly they talk about putting their hair up or wrapping it around their finger, couldn't be me I have very short hair! But no one goes after those authors for having character descriptions.

I try my hardest to write inclusively, I want people to be able to put themselves into the povs that I write. It's a learning experience, and sometimes I read old fic and think "wow I could have worded that differently to avoid the connotation that this reader has/is x". I'm by no means perfect in keeping my pov characters shapeless blobs, but I am trying.

It's exceptionally common in the COD fandom to give reader characters callsigns. It's common for characters to use nicknames/pet names in reader fics. And like you said it helps me to distinguish which au, and which pov character I/others are talking about.

I have said it before and I'll say it again, I'm open about what I write and I understand that it isn't for everyone. I'm an extensive tagger, and willing to tag things for people if asked. At the end of the day though, I'm writing for myself, and I'm not going to stop writing for myself the way that I enjoy writing when folks can easily block me or blacklist my tags if they don't like it.

#ghoul speaks #discourse #just gonna slap that on there real quick #this also gets into my personal beef with the way some people treat GN!readers #a GN!reader is not just a female reader using they/them pronouns #and also I don't want to be a petite little reader #I like being tall #I use “little” as a diminutive not a descriptor #feeling small is different from actually being small and it's a big difference #Also anon you are fueling my personal love for Hush #thank you for saying nice things to me :)

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 3 months

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

From the request here

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: When a movie night has you questioning your bodies worth, Simon catches you in the shower to show you that your body is perfect just the way that it is.

Word Count: 4.3 k

Warnings:

“Look at the jugs on her,” one of the guys says at the busty blonde that has just been introduced for the first time in the film. A few others follow suit, whooping at the gorgeous, petite female main character popping up on screen as the movie really gets going. “That’s a woman you could lose yourself in. Fuck, I wish I could find a girl like her; I’d be a happy man for life. To have that waiting at home for me, I’d never even be tempted to stray.”

This is usually how movie night on base goes: people piling into the rec center ready to watch the latest movie from the personal collection from one of the members, but mostly it just devolves into a testosterone fest of horny boys itching to have something to focus their sexual frustrations on by ogling at the new pretty little thing on screen. Usually it doesn’t bother you, you’re used to being around all that chaos, but tonight just feels different.

Simon isn’t one for this type of gathering, but he comes to keep an on the crowd and be nearer to you and as he watches out of the corner of his eye from his place standing towards the back, he notices how your body language changes as the guys continue to raucously talk about the leading lady and how beautiful she is. It’s almost imperceptible the way you shift in your seat while you pick at the skin of your lower lip with your teeth, your shoulders slumping down as you cross your arms, but he catches it outright. He knows you and he knows this isn’t normal.

Something is bothering you.

The longer you sit there the worse it gets. Their lustful words just cut different tonight; maybe it’s exhaustion from being overworked or perhaps you’re just having an off day, but the longer they hoot and holler over the girl plastered before your eyes, the more you want to crawl out of your skin.

It’s about halfway through the movie when you slowly get up from your seat, trying not to draw attention to yourself by leaving too quickly and exit the rec without looking back. Simon is instantly concerned and wants to rush after you, but one of the newer recruits that seems to be the ringleader in all this turns to him as if to drag him into the depraved fun.

“Whatcha think; gotta admit she’s a fine thing, ain’t she Lieutenant?” he asks, nodding back at the screen. “Come on, even you gotta admit she’s perfect. Couldn’t hope to find anyone better.”

The look that Simon gives the young man through his mask, that stone cold glare that could make even the bravest man shiver, instantly shuts him up and has him facing forward again to join his brothers in arms in their jokes. His brow furrows angrily behind the fabric as he looks over the crowd of boys once more before heading out, leaving quietly like a specter on his way to find where you had gotten to.

Simon checks all the usual places, but you are nowhere to be found: the little area outside the rec where you usually join him for a smoke break, the mess hall, even your barracks are empty. Then he hears movement in the communal bathroom and knows he’s finally found you.

It looks like you’ve been rushing to get done before anyone can catch you. Your hair is damp from the shower and it drips down to leave dark stains onto your t-shirt as you stand staring at yourself in the mirror behind the sink. Simon watches quietly from his obscured place by the door as you look yourself over, scrutinizing each detail from head to toe before you give up with a sigh and a diversion of your eyes, focusing on your toothbrush instead as you pick it up and turn on the faucet. So absorbed in what you are doing, you don’t hear the lock click closed or the pair of heavy boots that cross the length of the room until there is a presence upon you.

“God, you’re so beautiful baby,” you hear that deep, gravelly voice sound from behind you while a bulky arm wraps itself around your waist from behind as Simon presses up against your back. You look back up into the mirror in front of you and are instantly met with a pair of brilliant brown eyes as he slowly removes his balaclava. “Just standin’ there fresh outta the shower and ya look like a fantasy.”

Setting the mask on the sink he joins his other arm around you and leans his face in, the tip of his nose nuzzles into the side of your neck before he presses his lips against your jugular. His lips catch the feeling of your pulse quickening through the vein at his touch. Rough hands begin to splay across your clothed stomach, running across and down to your hips with gentle caresses that make you pause. Your eyes stare into the mirror to take in your combined form as he drapes himself over you, hot lips peppering your skin with no sign of letting up.

You chuckle dismissively, trying to play off his words as a joke. Your head still isn’t in the right place and even though you enjoy the feeling of his touch, disastrous thoughts still circle throughout to cloud your mind so that you second guess even his affections.

“Oh, come off it,” you return as you grab the toothpaste off the countertop. “I do not.”

There is no hesitation in his reply. “I’m serious,” he breathes that husky whisper against your skin as his lips continue down to your shoulder as his fingers pull the t-shirt away from your collar bone to reveal more skin for him to adorn with his mouth.

You roll your eyes in the mirror so that as he looks up briefly he catches the movement. “Yeah, sure,” you again dismiss him. “Whatever you say.”

Before you can even unscrew the cap to the toothpaste, Simon reaches past you to turn off the tap and take your things out of your hands before he rotates you around so that you face him. Your backside presses into the edge of the sink as you rest up against it, mouth scrunched to one side as he gazes back at you with intent. There is a subtle frown on his lips and an anxious look in his copper eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned. “Somethin’ happen? Cause I did see ya leave in a hurry back there.”

You divert your eyes, ashamed of your lack of confidence that has come forward tonight. “I don’t know, it’s nothing,” you shrug, but he isn’t buying any of it.

His large hand rests itself up under your chin, pulling your head back up to look into his face. “I think ya do know,” he says. “Will ya tell me?”

Clearing your throat, you give yourself a moment to figure out how best to proceed. “It’s just,” you say hesitantly, “I guess sometimes I just wish I looked like that, you know? I know I’m usually not this self-conscious, but tonight I guess I just hit a rough patch with my insecurities and something about the shit they were saying just got to me I guess. You see the way the guys talk about girls like in that movie, like she’s the most gorgeous thing in the world. She’s so perfect and… I…”

You gesture with your head down the length of your body to emphasize your point that you are nothing like the actress: your breasts are on the smaller side, your thighs are incredibly thick, and your stomach is not completely flat. Simon follows your hand, looking you up and down before his eyes meet yours again.

“I’m not. I know it’s fucking stupid and I shouldn’t care about all that, it doesn’t really matter, but sometimes it’s just hard to ignore. I’m not the standard when it comes to beauty, but sometimes I just want to feel like I’m the most irresistible person in the room.”

It seems like he wants to say something, you can see his mouth shifting, but instead his gaze drifts down to your lips and he pulls your chin forward to close the distance between your mouths. Instantly he overtakes your mouth with his own, tenderly capturing your lips over and over with a gentle desperation that makes him shudder against you as he moves in closer.

“Who the fuck said ya ain’t perfect?” he asks, his voice breathy against your lips. “Gimme that bastard’s name. You tell me right now so I can go ring their fuckin’ neck. Cause that is a goddamn lie.”

“No one said anything like that, it’s just the way I feel,” you answer honestly. “And you’re only saying that because you like me.”

Immediately Simon pulls you into another long kiss as if he is trying to take those insecure words right out of your mouth before you can say anything else. Breaking the kiss, Simon licks his flushed lips and shakes his head. “Really? Ya don’t think your body can drive someone wild? Then what’s this, hmm?” he asks, grabbing your wrist to pull your hand forward so that he can place the palm over top of the soft bulge growing in his boxers. “See whatcha do to me, sweetheart? Ya think that’s lyin’?”

Your hand rubs over the swell and his hips unconsciously buck slightly against your hand as he hums in approval of your touch. It is instantaneous the way you have him begging for even a simple touch from you; no other has ever held that kind of power over him, not anyone that he would give it to so freely like he does you. The warm pressure from your hand causes the pulsing to intensify as he grows harder and you find your heart beat starting to match its throbbing.

“Ya don’t think I catch the men lookin’ at ya from time to time?” he asks as he leans his head forward until it rests against your own, hands moving up under the hem of your shirt to play with the toasty skin of your abdomen as he talks. “Ya don’t think I see that their eyes glaze over as they linger on your body a bit too long for my fuckin’ likin’? Just cause they won’t say it out loud doesn’t make it any less true that you have something about ya that would drive any man wild.”

His words are like a balm to your mind and the longer he speaks the more you find yourself falling under their spell. Rough fingers are pushing up higher into your shirt, pulling it up over your waist as he runs his palms across the area while his hips press into yours. He’s not forceful or harsh, his advances are only full of adoration in that type of intense devotion that only Simon Riley is capable of when it comes to savoring the best damn thing he has ever had.

“Don’t let what ya heard back there hurt ya,” he says softly. “Yeah, ya don’t look like that bird on the screen, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t an absolute beauty. You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen and I ain’t just sayin’ it, baby. But ya don’t just have ta take my word for it. Let me show ya that no one can hold a candle to what ya got.”

Simon pulls you over to one of the empty showers and gets it going, fiddling with the taps to make sure the water is going nice and warm before he turns his undivided attention back to you. Instantly his mouth is back on yours as one by one each piece of your clothing is removed and set aside in tandem with his own until you both stand before the other bare.

“I’ve already showered,” you mutter out between pauses as merely just a statement of fact rather than a reason to deny him.

Simon murmurs his disagreement into your mouth. “Don’t care,” he replies through a break in his kiss, continuing to take off your clothes as he dizzyingly tries to get at your body. “Can’t be havin’ those fuckin’ negative thoughts in that head of yours. Wanna take care of ya, make ya feel like the true beauty ya are.”

More kissing, so much that your lips are burning and raw from the friction. His mouth must be aflame too, but he doesn’t let up; he can’t, he’s captured in the wake of your allure and there is no getting out.

“What if someone comes in?” The last of your questions spills out quick.

He chuckles at your needless worry. “Already locked the door sweetheart.”

Stretching his hand out, he checks the temperature to be sure it’s right before dragging you inside the steamy oasis. The curtain is barely pulled closed before he has you pinned at the back wall, his stocky torso rubbing against your voluptuous naked body as he steals the breath from your lungs, kissing you so thoroughly that there is no distinction between faces anymore.

The change in temperature has your nipples hardening, the blossoms spiking forward at attention, and Simon can feel them poking against his chest the longer he has your mouth locked in that dance of back and forth. The moment he is aware of their presence his mouth is salivating to get at them.

You might think they are not perfect enough, but to him they are exactly what he wants.

Breaking the kiss abruptly, removing his mouth so quickly that a trial of spit still connects your lips a moment, he tilts his head downward. Being on the smaller side, he can fit your breast almost entirely in his mouth and he does, filling the cavity with as much of your tit as he can without choking.

You can hardly remember anymore why the stupid comments had you so upset in the first place when you have a man like Simon who will dote on you like you are royalty. His is the only opinion you have come to care about and it is clear that there is nothing he will ever want more than you.

He moans deep and guttural into your breast as he sucks while letting the end of his tongue flick around the nipple, circling the sensitive tissue until you are writhing against him as he holds you steady to the wall so that he can work. There is another breast after all that requires his attention and he intends to show it the same amount of affection as the other. Switching sides, he gets to work, keeping the first breast warm by cupping it in his hand.

It’s minutes of you quivering and whimpering before he emerges panting with his lips swollen and red, satisfied with his work so far. Giving his lips a break, Simon gently strokes your cheek with his fingers as he gazes into your eyes, swaying your bodies from side to side in easy movements. “Stay with me luv,” he says softly as he watches you take heavy breaths, “I ain’t done just yet.”

Those lips are on the move again to decorate your body, over your sternum and waist, until he has to kneel before you to get any further. He’s on his knees, all 6’4” of him bent to you as he places kisses across your belly while the heated water runs over his dirty blonde hair and down his back, rippling across the muscles in his shoulders as he holds your hips squeezed securely between his broad hands.

“You’re perfect just the way ya are, baby,” he groans against your moist skin, letting his lips linger wherever he puts them. “Just like this: real, curves for fuckin’ days, so much skin I get drunk tryin’ to get at it all. And the best goddamn part is that it’s all mine.”

More kisses he places along all the areas you think unworthy of adoration, but that he finds absolutely exquisite. “Mine, all mine.”

His words devolve into incoherent babble as he nestles his face into your abdomen to leave burning trails of his desire with his lips that even the warm water cannot wash away from your skin. Your body writhes in his double-handed grasp as your head falls back to rest against the wall as every inch of tender flesh prickles with the overstimulating sensation of being doted upon.

Lips keep trailing further downward from your stomach to the mound of your sex, through the trimmed patch of hair at the top of your pussy, before they sink into the bulk of your thick, stocky thighs.

“Ya think I get on my knees for any girl?” he asks from his place at the bottom of the shower as he stares up into your face with half-lidded eyes that darken the more he plays with you. “You’re the only one who can bring me to fuckin’ kneel, baby. You and your gorgeous body. I’m at it’s goddamn mercy.”

Placing his hand on your calf, he nods and you know exactly what he wants: that juicy cunt smothering his features, your bulky thighs crush against his ears. Carefully he helps you to adjust your footing so that he can lift your leg. Propping it up on his own thigh, he sits back on his calves so that his face sits at the same level as your pussy and he leans in, smothering his face right between those dangerously thick pieces of flesh as you widen your stance with his guidance to make it easier. Hardened fingertips dig themselves into your body, forcing you even more firmly against his face until his nose is pressed into your clit and he moves his head back and forth to stimulate it with the tip.

There is little oxygen to be had between the heat from the water and the heat between your legs, but it doesn’t matter. The sound of your soft, breathy gasps and moans as he penetrates your entrance with his tongue is enough to sustain him until he can come up to breathe. Lapping and thrusting, wriggling and applying pressure, if there is even a whisper of a negative thought left in your brain it is overshadowed completely now by the overwhelming euphoria of being devoured to the brink of insanity.

You buck wild and untamed, panting heavily as the warmth in your belly begins gathering quicker than you could have thought, the coil pulling tightly as minute by aching minute Simon draws your body to the edge of its release. He is relentless in his endeavor, putting your needs above anything else- even breathing. That tongue has moved up to your clit now and with weighty presses over the tiny bean you soon are spilling over the edge and he has to hold onto you tight so that you don’t slip and fall.

Simon stays locked to your pussy until the very last second, keeping his movements going even as you try to pry him off from the sensitivity that is almost too much to handle. It isn’t until you finally stop writhing that he emerges from between your legs with a smile that has your stomach doing somersaults as he wipes his mouth clean of your cum.

“Second course,” he growls before you even have a chance to fully come down from your high.

Oh you have got him down bad tonight.

He carefully flips you round to face the wall and uses his feet to make you spread your legs as wide as you can get them. A hefty hand runs itself over the curve of your ass, following the line down all the way to the underside before he grabs it in his hand and gives the meat a firm squeeze.

“Those little boys just don’t know how to handle this much woman; all these fuckin’ curves are too much pleasure for a bastard that don’t know the treasure he’s got. But I know what a fuckin’ feast ya are,” he groans as he aligns your hips and enters you from behind with a forceful grunt that reverberates off the enclosed space of the shower.

You push palms flat against the wall to steady yourself. “They don’t know how ta treat ya right, how ta love a body that just keeps givin’ and givin’. But I don’t have that problem, sweetheart.”

Simon’s devout words are like liquid fire and as his cock stretches you wide, the euphoria of his talk runs through you to make you burn. Your body is his religion and goddamn does he always worship it right. All those cares, all that self-loathing and doubt entirely evaporate from your mind as he pushes your shoulders forward to make you arch your back so that he can pound into your pussy hard and deep from behind, making your plump ass bounce off his pelvis with a recoil that draws his gaze.

“Fuck,” he breathes, so obsessed with the way you look around him that he is trying to ingrain the image in his mind.

His aching exclamation thrills you, making your heart skip a beat as his thrusts continue to rock through you. To be craved in such a way, to be thought of like the woman in the movie, that is what he is giving you now and it is euphoric. His intensity is orgasmic and your body responds in kind as he grabs you to move you closer.

“Don’t concern yourself with the bullshit ideas of some puny little boys when ya got a man who will always make sure you feel like a fuckin’ princess when you’re in his arms,” he says in a whisper at your ear as he pulls you back to leans against his chest. “Cause ya are, sweetheart. Your my fuckin’ goddess of a woman.”

The way he says it makes you ache all over and you can feel it twinge in your clit. “Say it again,” you beg, needing to hear him make those sweet combinations of sounds once more until your body vibrates with pleasure.

His hand comes up to cup around your breast so that he can massage the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to mewl at the sensation. “You are so fuckin’ beautiful baby, so goddamn perfect just like this, and I love every last fuckin’ inch of ya. My princess.”

Your cheeks feel like they are glowing and on fire as thrusts after thrust he pounds into you, stretching you and filling you full on all of his passion for your body. You will never be able to make everyone see you for the gorgeous being that you truly are, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Simon is more than enough to keep you feeling like the most beautiful girl in the whole world; you are safe with him.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as his arms that are filled with your waist clamp down tighter to secure you to him so that he can shove his cock even harder into your now dripping core. “Yes, yes,” you whimper out.

“Come for me again,” he practically demands as he watches you falling apart once more. “Come on, pretty girl, one more for me. One more together.”

Your limbs are tingling with each snap of his hips against your ass. It’s close, right there, you can almost feel it again as the coil wounds itself tight once more in the pit of your stomach. You clench down on him, making him falter before recovering and continuing on. A few more pumps of him deep in your core and it is right there at the precipice.

“Let go for me,” he whispers into your ear as you clench once more around him and something about the way he says it sets you off. You come for the second time, the orgasm rocketing through you until you can feel it like fire shooting through your veins as you shake with the intensity of it all.

Quickly he pulls out just in time as he too pops off and comes between your thighs as you clamp them together around his cock. The ejaculate runs down your legs as he milks every last bit out of the tip until his body hangs limp and his head falls down to rest the forehead against your shoulder. Still he holds you close, murmuring soft praises against your neck about how fucking amazing that was and how there is no one else that will ever look more beautiful all flushed and exhausted.

Holding onto you, Simon takes a few steps back forcing you to come along until you are both submerged under the showerhead to let that soothing water run over your bodies until you can both come back down from your high. There are no words yet, none that need to be said out loud, all he needs to do is keep you wrapped in his arms a little longer.

It’s quiet, just the sound of the water rushing filling the silent space for a while, until a noise breaks you both out of the moment. There is a banging on the door from the outside, repeated knocking loudly and clearly; you’ve been in here for too long, but Simon doesn’t seem to be bothered. There is no attempt to leave the steamy oasis yet and soon the sound subsides and you are both left in the silence once again.

“They’ll just have to fuckin’ wait,” he says against the side of your head in a hushed whisper, lips tempting your earlobe. “They can consider it a punishment for making ya upset. Besides, I’m still busy and you’re not goin’ anywhere.”

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chrisevansonly · 3 months

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The Media’s Favourite

charles leclerc x female reader

summary: amelia is the light of charles’s life, and she adores him just as much, it’s a good think the media loves her too…

warnings: very fluffy dad charles, like tooth rotting

a/n: i really needed this after the past few days i’ve been having, so this is self indulgent for sure

Amelia had her head on your shoulder as you weaved your way through the crowds to reach Charles before he was whisked off for media duties. He’d come in second at the grand prix today, and the two of you couldn’t have been any prouder especially after how the season started for him.

“Papa?”

You smiled softly kissing the 4 year olds cheek gently, her eyes looking around for her favourite person

“Almost there petit fleur, we’re almost there..”

The two of you walked down towards the motorhomes and over to ferrari’s hospitality, once the two of you had made it safely, Charles was waiting where he usually was, towards the back offices.

“Bonjour mes bébés!”

At the sound of Charles’s voice Amelia picked her head up and smiled happily

“Papa!!”

“Mon ange!!”

He responded with an enthusiasm to match his little girls, and man did the two of them ever look like twins. Charles took her from you gently and you smiled as she clung to him tightly, the Monégasque kissing her cheek a few times before sending you a smile, a pressing a kiss to your lips.

“You did so well baby, congratulations”

“Thank you amour, I think it was because my girls were here”

He kissed your forehead, wrapping his arm around your waist before walking with the two of you down towards the media pen. It was almost tradition to go anywhere together as a family, especially in the paddock on race weekends.

As the three of you arrived, Charles took you and Amelia behind where you’d be away from the journalists but could still see him, only when he went to pass Amelia back to you, she whined

“No papa, stay with you!”

You frowned knowing how hard it was for her to see him and then need to let him go again

“Bébé, papa will only be a little while”

Amelia shook her head, her bottom lip pouting as she tucked her head into Charles’s neck, soft little whimpers escaping her

“Want to stay, papa want to stay!”

Charles thought about it before nodding

“You want to come with papa and talk about the race?”

Moving her head to look at him Charles could have swore his heart burst at the anxious look in his daughters eyes, not because of the camera, but because she didn’t want to be anywhere but his arms.

“Yes please!”

Looking at you to check if it was okay you nodded and watched them walk out into the media pen, all eyes on the father-daughter duo. Thankfully today, Charles had Lissie interviewing him.

“Well this is a surprise, hello Charles and hello Amelia!”

Amelia waved shyly and Charles laughed, adjusting her on his hip so she could see better.

“I have a buddy for media today it seems”

“You do, quite a cute one too!”

Charles smiled before nudging Amelia

“What do you say bébé?”

The toddler smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder

“Thank you”

Lissie smiled just as brightly, the content too cute to handle as she dove into questions about the race, Amelia listening intently, just happy to be in her father’s arms and close to him.

As the interview began to close Lissie asked Charles if Amelia could answer a question, to which he nodded, the four year old now watching her with interest.

“So Amelia, I was wondering who is the best race car driver?”

Amelia was quiet before gently patting Charles’s chest

“Papa! He is the best! He can go ‘weally fast! He’s my ‘favowite”

For being four years old she’d always been so great with words, even if some were still hard to pronounce she gave it her all.

“You heard it here everyone, Amelia Leclerc’s favourite driver is her dad! Safe to say I think many would agree, Thank you Charles and thank you Amelia!”

Charles thanked Lissie before the pair weaved their way back towards you, your arms open and ready to pull then in for a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you my superstars!”

Kissing both of them gently you all made your way back to get your things and get ready to leave the track. When the day started you definitely didn’t know it would end this way, seeing your baby girl so animated and happy in front of the cameras for the world to see.

You just knew it wouldn’t be the first or last time Amelia took the Formula One media pen by storm…turns out she was a fan favourite. But even then, she’d always be yours and Charles’s favourite too.

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wildwheezy · 2 months

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that should be me ✧ s.r.

spencer reid x fem!reader

[2.0k] summary: on a night out with the team, you find yourself bothered by spencer's newfound female attention

The bar was buzzing with loud music overhead and conversations between strangers. The lights were dim, casting a warm ambiance around the room as people ordered drinks, danced, and chatted with those around them. You scratched at the label on your beer bottle with your thumb as you looked around, eyes flitting from person to person, searching. You sat at a table over in the corner with Emily and Penelope, waiting for Spencer and Derek to return with the next round of drinks.

“Where the hell are Reid and Morgan?”

You glanced over at Emily, shrugging your shoulders, taking the last swig of your beer. They’ve been gone for almost thirty minutes. Your eyes scanned the bar again, searching for the familiar duo.

“Oh, I think I see them,” Penelope said, pointing toward the other end of the bar.

You shifted your gaze in the direction of her finger and felt your breath catch in your throat. Indeed, there they were. With two girls. Two very pretty girls.

“I am not surprised in the slightest,” Emily commented, shaking her head.

You didn’t pay much attention to the girl talking to Derek, instead staying focused on the brunette girl that was currently laughing at something Spencer said. She was on the shorter side, not even reaching Spencer’s shoulders, and was wearing a short purple dress that hugged her petite figure. You watched as she pushed her chest out, leaning in closer to him as he continued to talk, wide smile plastered on her face. Lord knows what he was even saying to her, probably something about the effects alcohol can have on the brain.

“That one girl is all over Reid,” Penelope pointed out.

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” you replied, voice tense. Then, “Do you think he looks into her?”

“It’s Reid. He probably has no idea that girl’s even into him,” Emily said, chuckling softly.

You shifted in your seat, uncomfortable with the situation occurring across the bar. Your lips tugged down in a frown, a displeased expression growing on your face.

“I mean, yeah, but do you think he’d like... go home with her?” you asked, twisting your empty beer bottle between your hands, trying to sound nonchalant.

Emily and Penelope shared knowing looks at that. They could read you like a book.

“It sounds like someone’s feeling a little upset that boy wonder’s attention isn’t all on her tonight like it usually is,” Penelope teased, eyeing you across the table. Emily hummed in agreement.

Your mouth dropped open, heat rising to your cheeks. “His attention is not always on me,” you defended weakly.

“Oh, bullshit,” Emily laughed. “We’re like chopped liver to him whenever it comes to you.”

Your relationship with Spencer was…a little complicated, to put it simply. You weren’t exactly together, but there was something between the two of you. It was kind of an unspoken thing. There was an obvious attraction there, but neither of you were brave enough to actually act on it. So, instead, you skirted around each other with flirtatious comments here and there and fleeting, accidental touches. You two were always wrapped up in each other, like you were in a bubble that shielded you from the outside world. Nothing has ever happened, though, despite how much you would like it to. It was almost painful, how much you wanted him.

You glanced back over at Spencer, watching him laugh with his new companion. They looked closer together than they were two minutes ago, and you felt your heart sink in your chest. “I guess he’s switching it up for the night,” you sighed, feeling defeated.

You technically weren’t even together, so you shouldn’t feel as hurt as you do, but you couldn’t ignore that twisted feeling in your gut.

Penelope frowned at you. “No, kiddo, don’t think like that. Try not to read too much into it, I’m sure he’s just being nice.” She reached over to rest her hand on your arm, trying her best to be comforting. “Besides, she’s not even that pretty.”

You side-eyed her. “Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

Penelope winced. “Okay, maybe that was a lie. But still, there’s no way he’s into her like that.”

“Yeah, that boy only has eyes for you,” Emily reassured, giving you a soft smile.

You appreciated your friends’ effort to make you feel better, but it was hard to believe them when he was still across the bar with this new mystery girl. “How come he’s still talking to her, then?”

“Okay, now you’re just torturing yourself. Let’s try to not focus on where Reid is and what he’s doing and go dance instead.” Penelope stood up from the table abruptly, tugging on your arm for you to do the same.

You hesitated, unsure. “I don’t know, Pen.”

“C’mon, it’ll keep you distracted,” she reasoned, voice sing-songy.

“Fine,” you said reluctantly, slowly standing up from your seat. “I’m gonna need a drink first, though.”

“Say no more. You coming, Em?”

Emily was already standing before she finished her sentence. “Of course, I am. What kind of question is that?”

________

Penelope was right: dancing was the perfect distraction. You were about four drinks in now, feeling the rhythm of the music and rocking your body in tune to it. Your clothes were starting to stick to your body, the air around you hot and thick as you moved with the people around you. You had no idea if Spencer was still with that girl but you hadn’t really thought much about it, not while you were feeling this good.

And so what if he was? Yeah, sure, it bothered you, but you really had no place to pass judgment given your current situation with each other. He was free to do whatever, and whoever, he wanted. Even if you hated it.

You downed the rest of your drink, twirling around to face your friends to let them know you needed another one. Penelope and Emily held their own drinks up in response, signaling that they were also ready for another round. You nodded then maneuvered your way through moving bodies, careful not to bump into anyone, and walked over to the bar.

It was crowded, making it a challenge to get the bartender’s attention. You stumbled a little where you stood, feeling the effects of the alcohol more now that you were no longer dancing. You looked around trying to see if you could spot Spencer or Derek, but no luck. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as your mind started to wander about where Spencer could be. He probably left with her.

A hand touched the small of your back, causing you to startle and drawing you back to the present. You quickly turned, catching a glimpse of the culprit who caused your heart to jump into your throat. Your eyes roamed over the familiar tall figure, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. Relief flooded your body as you realized who it was.

“Jesus, Spence, you scared me,” you said, slowly regaining control of your breathing.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. His hand played with the thin strap of your shirt, fixing it from where it was sliding off your shoulder. “Where have you been? You’re all sweaty.”

“Oh, uh,” you started, pointing over to where Emily and Penelople were. “I was dancing.”

The corners of his lips tugged up in an amused smile. “You? Dancing? Who’s idea was that?”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, teasingly elbowing him in the ribs. “I’m a good dancer.”

His eyebrows raised, giving you a look that clearly meant he didn’t believe you. “In your dreams, maybe.”

“Shut up,” you said playfully, slightly offended. Your face dropped then, remembering why you were dancing in the first place. You turned away from him and back toward the bar, finally close enough to order your drinks. “So…where’s that girl you’ve been talking to all night?”

Spencer reached a hand up and rubbed at the back of his neck: a nervous habit of his that you've picked up on over the years. “I think she left. I told her I needed to get back to my friends.”

“Wow. I can’t believe you blew her off, she seemed like was all over you,” you replied, trying your best to keep your tone even.

“She was nice, just…not really my type,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“No? Why were you with her for so long then?” you asked, a hint of jealousy laced throughout your voice.

Spencer shot you a questioning look at that. “Are you okay? You seem…off.”

“You study behavior for a living and that’s the best you could come up with? That I seem off?” His eyes widened at your response and you sighed, regretting your choice of words. “Sorry, that was mean.”

You felt his hand on your arm, pulling you away from the bar and over toward the table you all were at when you first got here.

“What are you doing? I need to get the drinks,” you protested, pouting.

“The drinks can wait. What’s going on with you?”

You avoided eye contact with him, instead looking down at your shoes, focusing on the scuff mark near your big toe. “Nothing,” you mumbled.

His fingers brushed along the underside of your jaw, tilting your chin upwards to look at him. “It’s not nothing,” he said softly. “Talk to me.”

It was hard not to give in with those brown eyes staring into your soul. You could fight him off as much as you wanted, but you knew you would cave eventually. You reached up to grab at the hand on your chin, pushing it away, and confessed, “It bothered me…seeing you with her.” You’re not even sure why you told him that, but you blamed it on the liquid courage currently flowing through your veins. Stupid alcohol.

“Why?” he asked.

You looked at him, pleading. “You know why.”

“I know, but I wanna hear you say it.”

“Spence,” you whispered. You doubt he even heard you with all the noise around you.

As much as you would love to tell him how much he means to you and what you feel for him, it was too hard. Like telling him would ruin the cute, flirty bubble you two found yourself in a majority of the time. And what would the team think, if you two were to actually get together? How would that affect the dynamic between all of you? It was just too risky, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to take that leap.

But then again, fuck it.

Your eyes searched his before you reached forward and grabbed his face with both hands, surging up to crush your mouths together. Your lips slotted against his, letting out a sigh as his hands wrapped around your waist to pull you closer. Every thought you had in your head vanished, completely focused on the man in front of you. One of your hands slipped back to tangle in his hair as you explored his mouth, stomach tingling with the sensation, feeling warm all over.

Hesitantly, Spencer pulled away, a sound of protest slipping from your lips. His chest was moving up and down, eyes hooded as he looked down at you. He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” you said, breathless, smiling up at him.

“You should’ve done it sooner.” He grinned back at you, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes and behind your ear. “And just so you know, I haven’t been interested in anyone but you for a very long time.”

A blush rose to your cheeks, warming your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed, nodding.

“Good.” You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, soft and gentle. “Wanna get out of here with me?”

“Absolutely. I’ve wanted to leave since we first got here,” he said, face completely serious.

You chuckled at that, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the bar. This is not how you anticipated your night ending, but you really couldn’t complain.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #wheezy writes

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1800-fight-me · 1 year

Note

hmmmm what about aemond’s new little wife doesn’t know how to tell him she’s feeling horny so she’s irritated the whole day and he at first thinks he’s done something to upset her but he takes in her flushed face as she’s squirming in her chair at dinner and he’s all like “hmm, i haven’t been doing my duty as a husband, have I?”

Effective Communication

Aemond Targaryen x Petite!Female!Reader

Prequel to Practice Makes Perfect (but can be read without reading that first!)

Rating: E- MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Making out, discussions of sex, heavy making out, allusions to sex

Word Count: 1.7k

Synopsis: You've missed your husband's attention and can't quite get up the courage to tell him.

Author’s note: THIS IS A GOD TIER LEVEL PROMPT THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! This sparked so many ideas and so I'm working on I think three other prequels to Practice Makes Perfect to go along with this one!! Thank you so much!!

Aemond Masterlist

It’s been five days. Five days since you’ve had the opportunity to spend any alone time with your husband.

He was constantly busy with his attendance to his brother the king and the realm’s newest crisis.

You stayed up each night and waited for him, but he would come back so late that sleep would have you in its grasp by the time he slid into the bed beside you.

You told him he could wake you up, if he wished, but he reassured you that he didn’t want to bother you and you should get your full night’s sleep even if he couldn’t. He clearly didn’t get your underlying message that you would like him to wake you up, and you were still rather shy about expressing your needs.

He was gone every morning with a quick kiss to your forehead.

You groaned in annoyance as you fully woke to an empty bed yet again.

You marched through the rest of your day, meetings with noble ladies, a walk through the gardens with Helaena, party planning with Alicent, all of it you tolerated rather than enjoyed as you usually do.

You were terrible at masking your irritation and all day you dealt with questions.

“Are you alright, Princess?” “Are you upset, dear?” “Have I done something to offend?”

Your reputation as kind and sweet worked against you when you were obviously upset.

You were sick of feeling such frustration and you racked your brain to determine the cause of it. You were not in the phase of your cycle that causes irritation, you weren’t hungry, and you didn’t have a headache.

You rolled your eyes at yourself as you realized the reason. You had a deficiency in your husband’s attention. For someone still so new to sex, you had grown used to your husband joining himself with you each night in the months you’d been wed, and anything less that daily felt unbearable.

That night was the weekly family dinner that Alicent enforced.

When your lady’s maid dressed you for dinner you fidgeted enough that she huffed in irritation as you thought of finally seeing Aemond.

“What is wrong, my lady?”

“Nothing,” you muttered.

A pageboy knocked on the door and when you gave him permission to enter he let you know that your husband would have to meet you at dinner rather than escort you due to a meeting going long.

“Ugh. Wonderful,” you snapped back at him.

You had hoped to at least have a moment alone with Aemond before dinner.

He visibly blanched at your sharp tone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Thank you for delivering the message,” you said and he nodded and left.

You sighed and placed your head in your hands.

“Perhaps you should talk about what is bothering you,” your lady’s maid suggested as she finished helping you get ready.

“No, I’m alright,” you mumbled.

She looked at you like she didn’t quite believe you but didn’t want to push it and finished her task in silence.

You made your way towards the royal dining room and with soft, not quite genuine smiles, you greeted everyone and sat down.

Everyone was present besides Aemond and Aegon.

Alicent chit chatted with you and Helaena, though you participated in the conversation less than the two of them.

Finally the doors opened and you looked up eagerly.

You sighed when it was only Aegon.

He took the seat to the right of you, Helaena on his other side.

He greeted his wife before he turned to you.

“Hello, sister,” he said and you glared at him.

“How is it that you made it here before Aemond?” you asked bluntly.

He laughed in surprise at your surly mood and then the doors opened once again.

You sighed in relief this time as your gorgeous husband strode in.

He smirked at the awed expression on your face as your breath was taken away by his handsomeness.

He crossed the room in quick strides and soon took his seat next to you.

“Hello, little wife,” he purred as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

It took all your self control not to throw yourself in his lap and press your lips to his.

“Hello, dear husband,” you breathed out as you were lost in his gaze.

Alicent called everyone’s attention and said a prayer before the food was brought in.

Honestly, Aemond was not ever very physically affectionate in front of other people, so you weren’t sure why you expected it, but you grew more upset that he made no efforts to touch you when he sat so close.

He spoke to you softly a few times but you mostly gave him short answers or ‘mhm’d’ in agreement with his words.

It was unfair how good he looked. You wanted to tangle your fingers in his hair. You wanted to yank his lips down to yours. You wanted to bite his neck and hear the way it always made him groan.

You were already practically dripping with need.

When Aegon made another unseemly joke you couldn’t hold yourself back as you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

Aegon looked at you in surprise at your obvious attitude and then made eye contact with Aemond, and looked at him like you were crazy, which only made you more angry.

You opened your mouth, to say something you would most likely regret but Aemond laid his arm across the back of your seat and you turned towards him.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear and you tensed at his proximity.

It is true that Aegon was often irritating, but it was not common for you to be so vocal about your annoyance.

“Where is my sweet wife?” Aemond asked and his breath tickled your ear and caused a shiver to run down your spine.

“I-“

“Tell me what is wrong,” he commanded, though his voice was still soft.

You felt a wave of desire to please him flow through you.

You turned your head and your eyes met his. Though your gaze flickered to his lips as he wet them with his tongue.

His eye widened slightly with realization.

He smirked as he looked you up and down and took in your flustered state.

“Are you irritated because of me?” he surmised.

You squirmed in your seat and bit your lip as you looked at him.

“I have neglected my husbandly duties as of late, haven’t I?” he purred with a smirk.

You nodded as you watched him wide eyed.

His smile was mischievous and triumphant as he pinned you to the spot with his gaze.

He turned away from you.

“Mother, my wife is not feeling well. We shall have to take our leave early,” he said.

You breathed out a sigh of relief.

She expressed concern but he brushed her off as he took your hand and led you to stand.

You said quick goodbyes and he let you out of the hall with a hand on your waist.

He led you towards your shared rooms, but abruptly pulled you into a dark hallway.

“Aemond!” you squeaked in surprise.

“Quiet,” he growled and his lips were on yours.

He devoured you.

Passionately and fervently his lips moved against yours as he gripped you tightly.

It seemed you were not the only desperate one after such an extended period of not feeling one another’s touch.

His mouth opened slightly and as you followed his lead, his tongue brushed against yours.

You moaned.

He pulled back from you with a hand softly placed on your jaw and throat.

“You do not wish for others to hear us, do you little wife?” he whispered.

You shook your head as you stared at him with wide eyes.

His lips curved into a smirk once more and you yearned to press your lips to his again.

“Are you so desperate for me that you would let me take you right here where anyone could walk past?”

You whimpered in embarrassment and desire. You slipped your hands beneath his coat and wiggled underneath leather and buckles until at last you could feel his warm skin.

He tilted your chin up with a finger and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck.

You shivered in desire.

“I want to hear you say it,” he murmured against your skin.

“Yes, husband, I- I want you now,” you gasped.

His teeth grazed your skin and your gasp turned into a moan when he bit down.

“Well this is an unexpected sight,” a loud voice interrupted the two of you.

You squealed in embarrassment and Aemond helped you hide yourself behind his body as he turned and glared at his brother.

Aegon laughed in amusement.

“I thought you were feeling ill,” he teased as he leaned to the side to see around Aemond’s body and make eye contact with you.

Your face was hot with embarrassment and shame.

“Leave her alone, Aegon. She does not need your teasing,” your husband ordered.

“Yes, I can see she has her hands full with you,” Aegon mused.

“Oh gods,” you groaned in mortification and he laughed once again.

“We are leaving,” Aemond huffed as he reached behind himself and grabbed your hand. He shoved his shoulder roughly against Aegon’s as he walked past him.

You avoided Aegon’s cocky and all too amused gaze.

“Goodnight!” he called out as the two of you walked away.

Once you finally reached your chambers and the door was safely shut behind you, you covered your face with your hands.

“That might be the worst thing that has ever happened to me,” you groaned.

Aemond chuckled, “Then you have led a very fortunate life, my love.”

You huffed.

“Aemond,” you protested and he chuckled once more.

He gently tugged your hands from your face and peered at you with love and amusement.

“It is alright, little wife. It was only Aegon, but I know how shy you are about such things. I will talk to him and threaten his life if he ever dares to speak of it to anyone, would that make you feel better?”

You nodded.

“Good,” he said and pressed his lips to your once again.

Your desires were quickly ignited once again as a wave of his fire and passion came over you.

And finally, after five excruciating days, your husband fulfilled every desire you had for him.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x wife!reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x petite!reader #aemond targaryen x female!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic

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the-iceni-bitch · 1 year

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ℬ𝒾ℊ ℛℯ𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒫ℯ𝒶𝒸𝒽： 𝒩ℴ ℒℴ𝓋ℯ ℒ𝒾𝓀ℯ 𝒴ℴ𝓊𝓇 ℒℴ𝓋ℯ

Last Updated: 02/11/2024

Summary: Nat doesn’t have time for anything except hookups; she’s running her own law firm, constantly fundraising for her new charity, and also has to occasionally sleep. She barely has time to hang out with her best friend Bucky, but she’s known him so long, she’ll always make time for him. Sure, sometimes that means she just meets him at his precinct for a quick chat, but it’s better than nothing. That’s where she sees you though; sweet, thoughtful, adorable, and feisty as shit you. And suddenly it seems like she has all the time in the world. Which is good, because trying to convince you she is in fact head over heels for you is a challenge she wasn’t prepared for.

Series Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, f/f relationship, idiots in love, age gap (reader is early twenties, Nat is early thirties), size difference (reader is very short, Nat is upwards of 5’10”), so much fluff and softness

Full Fics:

Until I Lose My Breath

The First Gift

Your Sweet Kiss

She’s Many Places

The Planets and the Fates and all the Stars Aligned

Drabbles, HCs, and Other Randomness:

I want you to answer me honestly 😢 (Nat’s blue birthday)

Just keep breathing 😢 (Nat’s blue birthday)

#no love like your love au #no love like your love: the city #big red and peach #series masterlist #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #plus!sized reader #female reader insert #petite reader #scarlett johansson character

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readychilledwine · 3 months

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Size Kink

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

A Size Kink is a general term for being aroused by being smaller/larger than your partner. It can be height, muscle mass/weight in general, cock size, ect. This is generally a kink we associate with subs having, but in my humble 5'1" experience, I've met more Doms with this kink than subs (hence my 5'11" baby daddy who thought he'd never have someone short enough to enjoy this kink with.) This kink has several subgroups that fall into it and sex acts that fall into it, but my personal favorite to write is height difference and body frame difference. So tall muscular male, short female (curvy or lean.)

What I love about size kinks is that it's so focused on specific aspects, and ANY body type gets to play with it. Little hands? Little legs? Luscious curves? Member of the Itty bitty titty committee? There is someone out there with a size Kink who is into your body and thinks you are a piece of artwork and sexiest thing on the planet. It's so beautiful because it is a body type kink that does not discriminate, and as a sex positive and body image positive person, I think that's super important and comforting for some people.

💕Peep the Valentines Day list here💕

As always NSFW below the cut

Azriel x short!reader

Warnings - reader is VERY petite, smut, p in v, slow stretching

A/N - So, I actually have a request for a size Kink with Cassian sitting in my drafts as well from before I decided to do Valentines Day Bingo. Since I picture Cassian as an absolute unit, I used a more Megan thee Stallion vibe for that reader (tall and thick) so I decided to go very short and thinner built for this one to ensure they'd be different. I apologize if that bothers anyone. I will try to get that Cassian request finished asap to post it and make up for this 💙

Ps- with how quickly I am cranking some of these out, and how.... spicy some of them are getting, I don't have my normal outside editing all of the time. Baby daddy proof read this one. Before staring at me and going, "that wasn't fair." So, I apologize for any errors, as always, I will catch them on my fresh reread after it's posted 🫠

Azriel was slowly losing his mind as he watched you use a chair to be closer to Cassian's height and argue with him face to face.

You were just so… small. So little compared to the two Illyrian males. They towered over you. They dwarfed you. Hell, he and Cass had discussed several times how easy you'd be to manhandle, considering they were both so sure their large hands could almost touch if they were wrapped around your waist.

At 6’8” and 7’ it wasn't hard for him and Cassian to own a room or be the tallest males, but Gods when Azriel stood next to your 5’ frame, when he saw Cassian pick you up like you were no more than a doll. It did something to him. It made him feel like a God, like he was powerful, possibly invincible.

He had been further spurred on by over hearing you and Nesta yesterday. She had asked you about how, if the opportunity presented itself, you would manage to fuck an Illyrian, and you, you with your never back down attitude had told Ness, “Mountains were made to be climbed.” He did not know if you had meant that in regards to him, but his hand found his cock quickly that night.

Azriel walked over to where you and Cassian argued over cereal. The fight wasn't serious, but he just needed to remind you that even with a chair below you, you still fell a few inches short.

“Get down before you fall and hurt yourself, angel.” He put a hand to you, offering to help you down. You glared, but put your hand in his.

Offering to help you was a mistake.

He felt the blood rushing to his cock as your little hand sat in his.

He shared a knowing look with Cassian when you looked away to step down and get back on the floor. The argument resumed instantly, your hand still in his.

It stopped as soon as Nesta walked in. Her mate and you going silent and agreeing to disagree.

Well, at least you thought you had agreed. Until Cassian turned around, Nesta in his arms waiting to fly into Velaris. He looked between you and Azriel before smirking. “You know, y/n, you might have shit taste in cereal, but at least you're the perfect height for some things.”

You didn't get it until you turned to Azriel, plush lips parted to ask what Cassian meant.

The blush that spread your cheeks was sinful.

Another image Azriel would save when he imagined it was your mouth around his cock tonight.

Azriel's room was across the hall from yours, so he knew you were being subjected to the same torture he was.

He was sure all of the Night Court could hear Cassian and Nesta. He rolled over to his back, throwing an arm over his face and sighing.

You were so small, so sneaky, he hadn't noticed you come in and shut the door until you were sitting on his bed.

And fuck being in his custom made oversized bed made you look so little. “Hello angel.”

He made room for you, welcoming you under the blanket you laid facing him, watching him. “Do you all never.. get worn out?” He chuckled. “Because humans do. Males typically finish, then they're like, done, and asleep.”

He looked towards you, laughing and smiling so hard his dimples were showing. “Is that your way of telling me you didn't enjoy rolling in the sheets while you were human?”

That blush spread your face again. “I had plenty of fun before Hybern did this to me. Thank you very much, sir.”

You had done it. Azriel shut his eyes, growling at the nickname as he did. “You cannot call me that when you're laying in my bed, y/n.”

You looked at him, snuggling closer to him. You knew what you were doing to him. You had known for a while. You always tracked his eyes when he'd watch you take your heels off, biting his lip thinking no one was looking. You noticed him hide his arousal behind a mask of indifference when you would climb things around the House of Wind. You had also noticed Azriel and Cassian taking every chance they could to lift you.

You had even know Azriel was so sneakily listening to you and Nesta the other day, and you had meant it. Azriel was a mountain you intended on climbing. “Of course, sir. Wouldn't want you to have to use those big hands to keep me quiet.”

The growl that echoed through the room had your thighs clenching. He was on you in an instant arm between your breasts, so it rested on your neck. The other hand sat on your hip, inching forward. “Do not tease me.” You could feel him pressed against your back, mind immediately lost in how that would fit.

You may have been biting off more than you could chew.

But fuck it.

You had never backed down from a challenge. Why start now?

You wiggled further into him, grazing his cock with each movement. “What if I'm not teasing? What if this is an offer, sir?”

“You're going to regret that, little one,” Azriel's hand immediately was in your shorts, his other hand squeezing your throat. A thick finger ran your soaked core, pulling a moan from you. “Going to have to go slow,” Azriel ground his hips into you, needing that friction on his aching cock. “Don't want to hurt you, angel.”

That one finger entered you without warning. It was already a stretch, but one you welcomed.

You loved how everything about Azriel was so big. His hands, his muscled chest and arms, his wings. Of course he'd be big there too. Anticipation began to replace the fear. You relaxed into him, tilting your head and pulling him into a heated sloppy kiss.

Azriel swallowed your moans and cries as his finger opened you up for him. You were tight, so damn tight. His hand moved from your throat to your breasts, loving how they weren't even a handful for him. You were so petite and slim, he reminded himself. He pulled your tank top off, maneuvering the best he could to get you fully below him. He pushed in a second finger, watching as you squirmed so helplessly below him. “So fucking little,” he moaned. “Mother above you're perfect. Just perfect.”

He leaned back, fingers increasing speed the best they could with your shorts in the way while he toyed with your breasts, pinching your nipples and smacking the tender flesh as he saw fit. “Cum for me so I can sit you on my cock, angel. You can do it, y/n. Show me how tight you'll be squeezing around me.”

You felt like you were floating as you came, whimpering Azriel's name as you watched him rut against the mattress for some friction, hazel eyes damn near lost in lust.

He pulled his fingers out of you, wasting no time ripping his sweatpants off and using those juices to coat himself. Your shorts came next, torn to shreds as he pulled you to the edge of the mattress and rested one leg on both sides of his chest.

He was as perfect as you imagined. His cock was long and thick. He was running it along your folds, soaking up at the slick he could before smacking the head of it against your clit.

Azriel could help but to stand with his hips flush against yours, admiring how it looked like his cock would be damn near in your stomach. “Gonna go slow,” he mumbled as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Can't risk hurting my little angel.”

He pushed the head in, keeping an eye on you as you moaned out a long fuck before relaxing into his bed. He sat there, only a few inches inside of you, feeling as your walls stretched out to accommodate him.

He pulled out and slowly reentered, pushing a little more inside of you. Your back arched off the bed, a whimper of pleasure ripping through your throat. The burn of it felt so good. You felt yourself drooling already, mind numb, and lost to anything that wasn't Azriel.

He continued his motions over and over until he was flush against your hips, and you were screaming for him. You had cum just from him slowly getting inside of you, and now he could see the bulge he had created, the slight swelling inside of you as your body made room for him.

Azriel put a hand on the bulge, feeling himself inside of you as he began thrusting. You were squeezing him so tight, hand struggling to find him to hold on to something.

He felt himself losing control, pace growing faster and faster as he watched you squirming and moaning below him. His arms went behind your hips and back, lifting you off the bed and manhandling you in the air for a little while. He brought you to his chest, moving you to be against the wall that shared his room and Cassian's.

A silent brag, and message, that he could now accurrately inform Cassian how easy you were to toss around like a doll.

Your hands found purchase on his shoulders as you became a babbling mess. Your silky core was twitching and tightening around him all over again, indicating to him how close you were, how ready you were. “Az,” you panted. “So fucking big.”

“Yeah,” he kissed the top of your head. “Bet it feels so good stretching you out, doesn't it, baby?” You couldn't respond as a certain angle had you becoming pliant in his arms. “Fuck I know it does.” He was practically lifting you on and off of him, watching as you stretched around his cock. “You're close, aren't you, angel?”

You nodded, eyes glazed over and jaw fallen open to the perfect o. “Gonna cum.”

“Then cum. Squeeze my cock. You wanted to climb the mountain, right y/n? Fucking climb.”

You hit that peak on his command again, clinging to him tightly as he continued using you and stretching you out.

It took Azriel a few more moments, but he stilled inside of you, head thrown back in a loud growl as he came inside of you. He pressed you back against the wall, panting slightly as he stared into your eyes. He lifted you easily, allowing his cock to fall out of you and you to whine at the sudden emptiness that took place where he had filled you.

“This can't be a one-time thing,” his voice was almost desperate as he moved to set you on the desk, forehead finding yours. “I need more of you. All of you.”

You couldn't help but to bit your lip, nodding so quickly with a growing smile. “I like how little you make me feel. How safe you make me feel.”

Azriel's eyes almost rolled back completely as they shut. “Gods you are perfect.” He leaned in to kiss you, only to be interrupted by his door slamming open and Cassian and Nesta barging in.

A massive wing snapped between you and them, blocking your body from their view.

Cassian cleared his throat before speaking. “We want to know how exactly that worked. Show us. Please.”

“Show you?!” Your voice cracked as you turned to a smirking Azriel.

Azriel kissed your forehead. “Bend over the desk, angel. Gotta give him a show since he asked so nicely.”

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb

@justasillylittlegoofyguy

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #shadow daddy #readychilledwine valentines day bingo

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 9 months

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Somebody to Heal, Somebody to Hold (Joel Miller x dispensary! reader) 🍃 🔥 💨

Chapter 1 : Moonberry

Chapter 2 here || Chapter 3 here || Main masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x dispensary! reader, AU no outbreak Rating: none, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut, age gap) Summary: Joel can't rely on pills anymore for his back pain, so his doctor prescribes him medicinal marijuana. But he's not happy about it. Word count: 6.6K A/N: This is a shameless indulgence because I wanna see PEEPAW get HIGH. He needs it, his BACK needs it. He's not gonna like it at first though 🌚. A thank you to my literal heart and soul @iamasaddie who listened for hours on end to my rambles and creative word vomit about this idea, I love you forever. I will add the tag list later tonight. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

“God fucking damn it.”

Joel’s resounding growl reverberates throughout the empty house as he slams another kitchen drawer closed with a loud thud. He impatiently rifles through the drawers one by one in a failed attempt to find any pain killers, any fucking pills he can get his hands on, really. His hands flit through stale takeout menus, spare remote batteries, streamers, matches and other miscellaneous odds and ends with no avail.

He even went so far as to look in Sarah’s bathroom cabinet above the sink and her dresser drawers too. The pieces of furniture in her room somberly coated with a thin layer of dust, marking her absence ever since she left for college a couple months ago. He didn’t have any success. No Advil, no Tylenol, not even any RUB A535 or joint pain creams to be found in any corners of the seemingly empty Miller house.

Damn.

She must have taken anything she had with her off to college when she moved into her dorm, Joel surmised. The dresser’s groan as he shuts it close rivals Joel’s, that rips from the back of his throat as he feels another sharp, needling pinch in his lower back. It eventually subsides into a dull ache but he knows he doesn’t need to move in any abrupt or particular way to trigger the same said infuriating pain, sending shockwaves down his back, through his spine. He grits his teeth and rests both of his palms on the textured surface of the wood, trying to ground himself as his back rounds and he hunches over. Looking up into the mirror attached to the dresser, he grimaces. Recoiling from the image of an old man with hollowed circles under his eyes, grey hairs littering his head and his permanent scowl.

Joel is old. He knows that much. The years on him are telling. Aside from his physical looks, his knees are shot and there isn’t a day where he has to physically brace himself to bend down, swing his legs out of bed, or hoist anything above his head when he’s out on jobs. Even his ability to pick up jobs and swiftly finish them as if he was a sprightly 35 year old with a slightly athletic build has slowed down tremendously. It takes him twice as long to seemingly do anything nowadays, regardless of whether it’s physically laborious.

Hell, he even struggled when it came to moving Sarah into her college dorm room. Even though she remained in state and her campus wasn’t more than a 2 hour drive away, and multiple trips could be made, Joel steeled himself to ensure he would be there to do the heavy lifting, and only have to do it once. Enlisting Tommy’s help would have made it easier as well but of course his younger brother was too gregarious for his own good. Aside from showing up 40 minutes late, with a 6 pack of Lone Star in his hand and forgetting the tools he was supposed to bring, Tommy was more easily preoccupied setting up the mini fridge he bought for Sarah, Which of course Joel scolded him for, and joking around with other freshmen in the dorm.

The harsh reality is that the harder he tries to forget about it and ignore his persisting aches and pains, the more his body and mind humble him without fail that he is old. Broken. Might as well be, seeing as he’s about losing his damn mind without having any painkillers to pop and wash down with a glass of whiskey.

He recalls the fruitless conversation he had with the doctor two weeks earlier which had placed Joel in his current predicament.

“Getting older is a facet of life Joel, I’m not gonna lie to you about that. And you’re an otherwise healthy guy, aside from your cholesterol creeping up a bit high and the occasional spike in your blood sugar.” His doctor told him frankly as he flipped through Joel’s medical history.

“Unfortunately your body is just responding to the stresses of doing physically intensive work, as it does with any other person when they age.”

Joel opens his mouth, already ready to refute the doctor's next words, when the doctor holds his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know, you’ve been doing the same job for years. Nothing about being a contractor has changed. The fact of the matter is the job remains the same but you have changed Joel. Your body just can’t keep up as quickly, nor can it recover as quickly anymore. All that heavy lifting, straining the same muscles over and over in fixed positions, it’s just catching up with you now.”

Joel crosses his arms over his chest and grinds his jaw. “I’ve been managing just fine,” he grunts, not trying to hide his annoyance through the lie.

He had been trying to take it slower in the past couple months. The key word being trying.

Sending Sarah off to college was no easy feat financially, especially as a single parent, but Joel wanted to give his daughter the best chance at a college education, knowing how bright and determined she was. He worked hard to save for her tuition, the first two years that is, but he wouldn’t admit he was running himself into the ground trying to pick up more jobs than he could handle on his own, in order to save up for the rest. Forget the tuition, there was also the cost of residence for living on campus, her textbooks, a laptop, student association fees and a whole bunch of other crap he couldn’t wrap his head around.

“Back in my day you just went to your lectures in the same building, wrote in the same notebook, and used the computers on campus,” he grumbled as he squinted at the tuition balance outlined in the letter sent by her college. There were more zeros than necessary behind said balance that already had Joel’s mind spiraling into a panic.

“I thought you only did like, less than a year of college before you dropped out to start working in the trades Dad,” Sarah quirked her brow at him smugly.

“It was nine months,” he corrected her, “long enough for me to realize that it wasn’t for me.”

“Not long enough for you to learn how to properly use a computer though,” she smirks as she watches Joel start scribbling numbers down onto a piece of paper, reverting to mental math instead of using a calculator.

“It was a long time ago smart ass,” he chides her despite the warmth in his eyes. “Besides, you were still so young. I was spending more time outside of the home, working and trying to juggle school, away from you and your mother. It wasn’t ideal. The trades allowed me to be flexible with my hours, while being able to spend more time with you”

His doctor gave him a sympathetic look and sighed. “If that were the case, I don’t think you would be here and we would be having this conversation right now would we?”

He sits down in his chair and wheels over to the computer sitting on the desk, clicking this and clicking that as he filters through the previous medications that had been prescribed to Joel, before he turns to face him.

“Now in any other instance, I would prescribe you slightly stronger painkillers than what you’ve received in the past,” Joel subconsciously starts nodding along, ready for the spiel about his prescription dosages and what not. “But, because your cholesterol is a little high right now, I can’t do that.”

The crease in between Joel’s eyebrows deepen as he tries to anticipate what the doctor tells him next.

“The side effects from an over the counter painkiller could spike your cholesterol even higher, which is what we do not want,” the doctor continues, unaware of Joel’s steadily boiling frustration. “Which is why I wanted to suggest an alternate method for pain management, something more natural.”

For fucks sake.

He thought this would be a simple appointment. Show up, get a new prescription for whatever magic pills can help this pain in his back to dissipate, and go home. Not look into ‘alternative methods’ that undoubtedly wouldn’t work.

Joel’s gaze narrows and he huffs, leaning back in his seat. “Natural? Like what, seeing one of those hokey practitioners that read your energies and use natural herb remedies and all that crap?”

“Not quite that per say but it is natural medicine. Medical marijuana to be exact.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry as his jaw hangs open. Weed? Nope. Not the solution he was looking for.

Maybe what he should be on the market for is a new doctor at this point.

“Uh listen, I appreciate the suggestion doc, but I don’t think that’s gonna help me at this point. I don’t do that kinda stuff,” he waves his hand dismissively. “If it gets to that point I’ll crack open a beer.” Joel leans forward in his seat and he starts to get up.

“Just a second, hold on. At least let me write you a prescription for it today and you can choose whether or not you want to get it filled at a dispensary.”

“I don’t think-” Joel continues to protest but the doctor cuts him off.

“It’s medicinal marijuana Joel,” the doctor says plainly, as if that’s supposed to calm his nerves. “It has opiate-like properties, which means it’s similar to a pain killer, just without all the usual side effects that come with over the counter medicine. Lots of individuals, older and younger,” the doctor pointedly emphasizes, “use it to help with aches, pain, anxiety, even mental health issues. Not just the physical.”

Joel continues to eye the doctor warily, his spine now stiff as he sits up in the chair. Even now, he can feel his body protesting his upright position, the inkling of that pinched phantom pain coming back slightly.

“Does it get you high?” he asks the older man.

Aside from the stories he’s heard, he’s had his fair share of buddies who used to toke up back in the day. Hell, they didn’t even know what was in it back then, they just smoked as a distraction, something fun to do, to take the edge off after a long day's work. Joel tried it once and didn’t like it at all. The hazy, fuzzy feeling not mixing well with his frayed nerves, glassy eyed and out of touch with his body. No, he would much rather crack open a beer or pour himself a whiskey neat to kick back and relax when he was stressed.

“Not necessarily, some strains, or some kinds of weed have a higher content of THC, tetrahydrocannabinol, the psychoactive component that makes you feel high or ‘out of it,”’ the doctor explains with finger quotes. “Some medicinal marijuana are low in THC but high in CBD, the relaxing component of marijuana. CBD acts as a relaxer, and it can ease physical pain. So depending on what you’re comfortable with, you can opt for the kinds that have a high CBD but low THC content, which will help with any pain issues, without causing you to experience the high.”

Joel’s mind whirls around the acronyms. THC, CBD, ABC. Christ. Does it have to be this fucking complicated?

He knows his doctor is only trying to help at this point, basically just doing his job, but this is way beyond Joel’s comfort zone. He inhales deeply and leans back against the chair as he resigns himself to this conclusion. Seeing as there are no other options.

Picking up on Joel’s internal freak out, the doctor explains. “It’s a lot of information to process, I know. But like I said, take the prescription and think about it. There’s a new dispensary in town here where you can go and take the prescription, have them fill it, chat more about the options and see how you feel. If you’re still adamant about the painkillers then come see me in a couple weeks and we can discuss it more. I want you to try a few things to lower your cholesterol in the meantime.”

His doctor writes the prescription on the office letterhead, and hands it to Joel along with a card for the dispensary in town.

Fast forward to the present, Joel turns around from the dresser and leans back against it. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the prescription slip, the paper now visibly creased due to the number of times he had folded and unfolded it in contemplation. Of course it was near impossible to make out the doctor's chicken scratch handwriting.

Must be a requirement of all medical school grads. Step 1, learn to write illegibly, step 2, graduate

He is able to make out the other writing further towards the bottom of the slip, where the doctor haphazardly scribbled out ‘cholesterol’ and underneath it read ‘less red meat and beer, more omega-3’s (fish and eggs), and more fruits.’

“Might as well buy a fucking casket at this point,” he grumbled to himself. If there was a world where he couldn’t enjoy a juicy ribeye steak along with a cold beer anymore, well, he had pretty much resigned himself to the conclusion that that was not a world he wanted to be in.

—-----------------------------------------------------

“Alright so we have the Pink Kush Indica loose leaf at 3.5 mg, at 19.7% THC, and the Strawberry Rain hybrid pre-roll pack at 22.4% THC, a very good choice by the way. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

You smile warmly at the customer you’re cashing out at the front till. He’s a young guy, no older than 19, maybe 20? Legal age, but with the way this kid’s eyes are nervously darting around the store, looking at everything but your eye line, you correctly assume it’s his first time buying marijuana products.

“No, nothing else, thanks,” he mumbles as he fidgets with his coat pockets, before paying and quickly snatching up his purchases and shoving them in his pocket, briefly turning to exit the store.

You chuckle to yourself internally and shake your head, remembering what your first time was like when you legally bought from a dispensary after the government legalized marijuana.

Despite its legality, you were a fucking deer in headlights as the dispensary worker tried to explain to you the differences in strains, types of weed, paraphernalia that you could use to consume it. Wholly consumed by the guilt of acknowledging you were purchasing illicit (yet completely legal) drugs, you scurried out of the store as quickly as you could after getting what you needed. What would your parents say if they found out? Not that they ever would, but the ever present shame that needled and cracked through the facade of their wholesome daughter, their good girl, consuming such a horrendous drug, the devil’s lettuce, now that shame loomed over your head constantly for a long time.

You sigh and turn to go into the back storage room. Only 1 hour left until close luckily, yet somehow the last hour of your shift always seems to go by the slowest. Go figure.

“Let me guess, 19 ?” Your colleague Josh guesses with a presumptuous smirk on his face, as he continues to count the inventory of vapes in your storage room.

“Try 21! I believe you owe me dude,” you hear a chirpy voice chime in, as you look to see your other coworker Stef strolling in right behind you.

She holds her hand out expectantly as she approaches Josh, as he slaps a $5 bill into her up-facing palm, a smug grin plastered across her face. Stef usually worked the front door so naturally she would remember the ages of most customers that walked in, after scrutinizing over their ID and making dismissive comments about their appearances and age. Sometimes she was too blunt and outspoken for her own good, but you would call her out on it, all good natured. She was your best friend from elementary school. So naturally when she began working at One Plant and a part time position opened up, she hounded you about it constantly until you came into the store with a copy of your resume, briefly chatting with the manager at the time.

You gasp with feigned sarcasm as you cross your arms over your chest, leaning against a supply shelf.

“You guys said you would stop betting on the customers last week! C’mon now.” You reprimanded them lightly, a half hearted attempt to be the voice of reason, despite the smile on your face. Stef and Josh both outranked you in terms of seniority as they had been working at the shop longer, but it didn’t stop them from concocting new shenanigans every fucking week to make the time go by faster and make your shifts more entertaining.

“What? The kid looked like he damn near was having a fucking seizure when I was checking his I.D.. Yeah he’s technically ‘legal,’” she emphasizes with air quotes, “but he looked like he got lost on a fucking field trip, poor baby.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head once again. Stef may be blunt and take the mick out of customers with a thinly veiled sense of self restraint, but you loved her. She made the days go by faster, as did Josh, lord knows he put up with so many of your antics. It’s a miracle he kept you both in the store at all, despite his threats to take you both off schedule because you couldn’t contain the bullshit amongst yourselves. He joined in on the fun once in a while, giving you a break and empathizing.

“They’re getting younger and younger everyday, I swear.” Josh chimes in as he does a double count of the inventory before logging it into your system.

“I suppose back in your day, you just bought whatever you could from the local dealer who lived in his mother’s basement, right grandpa?” Stef poked at him, as she sat down and propped her feet up on the table used to package orders, scrolling on her phone.

You snorted as you began to tidy up and organize the stock for the following day, preparing any orders that were due for an early pick up. Grabbing a pack of indica pre-rolls here, a couple vape cartridges there, putting away the bongs and pipes that were out on display.

It’s true, that despite the government legalizing marijuana over a year ago, there was still a large influx of customers who were new to consuming the herb, in the face of its notoriety as an illicit street drug. The dispensary saw all manners of people who came in seeking relaxation, calmness, appetite inducing, sensory heightening products. You almost couldn’t believe it when you started working here.

Customers ranged anywhere from barely legal college kids, who couldn’t tell the difference between sativa or indica and couldn’t roll a joint to save their lives, to young parents needing a break between the monotony of daycare and diapers, as well as trade workers coming off a long day at the job, or even seniors looking for a mild pain relaxer.

“Everyone’s got a vice, everyone is looking for a piece of that relaxation. Not all stoners look like typical stoners,” Josh quietly reminded you as he trained you during your first week on the job.

You took his comment in stride and tried your best not to judge the customers when they came in looking for their vice. Everyone had their reasons, undoubtedly, and those reasons were absolutely none of your business, Stef had so compassionately reminded you, despite your bristling at her blunt words.

Today would turn out to be no different, you realized, as you went back out to the front of the store, and began locking up the display cabinets, putting the weed samples back in their glass cases. You hear the bell toll of the front door opening and you call out to Stef in the back, but it doesn’t reach her ears over the sound of her chattering with Josh.

You glance at the clock. 4:32 pm, less than half an hour to go. Steeling yourself, you walk over to the entrance, where the double doors are that let customers into the store. An added measure for security, despite the so-called front ‘checkpoint desk’ where customers had to show their I.D. before walking into the main store that contained actual products.

“Thanks for coming into One Plant, can I see some I.D.?” You parrot the painstakingly rehearsed greeting as you round the corner to the desk at the front. You look up to see an older guy standing there awkwardly, between the exit door, and the front desk, almost like he’s not sure he wants to really be in the store.

He looks around suspiciously at his surroundings, his brow furrowed as he takes you in.

“Uhm, can I see your I.D. sir?” You ask him again, mirroring his confused expression as you appraise his demeanor. You tap your knuckles on the laminated sign on the desk that states I.D. MUST BE SHOWN, ONLY 18+ PERMITTED ENTRY to emphasize your point.

The man blinks once or twice, then shakes himself out of whatever daze he was in, as he fumbles into his back pocket for his wallet, fishing out his license for you.

“Yeah sorry, here you go.”

You don’t pay much attention to the picture on the license, you never usually do, as bad as it is to say. As far as you were concerned, if the mental math added up in your head, and they were 18, you let them in. This time you take a bit more time to analyze this man’s ID card. You poorly attempt to hide the raise in your eyebrows as your gaze scans his year of birth. There’s no way this guy is over 40. He can’t be. You look from the stiff plastic card in your hand, back up to the man towering over you at the desk, taking in his slightly greying hair and his sparse beard. The crows feet etched on his face, and his seemingly permanent scowl gave away his years without fault.

You look down at the card again. Joel Miller. Huh. Just as you look back up at him, he raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. Realizing you have been holding onto his card for far too long than is appropriate you hand it back to him quickly.

“Sorry, can’t be too careful,” you say playfully, but that doesn’t seem to dissuade his nerves as he puts the card back into his wallet, back into his pocket. Hands shoved into his coat pockets as he stood frozen to the spot.

“Come on in,” you gesture for him to come in as you press the button to open the interconnected door that leads to the shop.

He follows you in, continuing to look around the store anxiously, stiff as a board.

You make a beeline for the register counter, secretly praying that this guy knows what he wants to order so that you can all clock out in time. Usually, you didn’t usually mind staying behind late most days but you had been feeling burnt out between school and the hours at the dispensary lately, and you were all too looking forward to going home, smoking a fat joint and unwinding with some drag race. It didn’t look like that would be happening any time soon though, much to your dismay, as you notice the deer in headlights expression on this poor guy. His gaze darted from the display cases to the glassware, despite his broad stature he was clearly overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

You clear your throat in an attempt to pull him out of his current state of fight or flight.

“First time here?”

His gaze snaps back to you, and for a second you genuinely can’t remember if you asked him the question, or if he asked you something, with the way his huge brown eyes widen and soften slightly before he furrows his brows.

“Is it that obvious?” The deep warmth of his baritone voice betrays the gruffness in his response and you chuckle. The corner of his lips curl into a lopsided, sheepish smile.

Bless this first timer and his apprehension. You take pity on his naivete.

“Not to worry at all. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” You match his small smile in return.

“Uhm,” he furrows his brows again and starts to peer around the store anxiously again, as if he was being watched. “Something for pain management?” He quirks one eyebrow at you, in question, almost as if he’s unsure if that’s the right answer. He fidgets a bit, shifting his weight and then sighing while pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket.

He squints at the paper briefly. “At least, that’s what my doctor has written here. I think. Can’t be sure with this damn chicken scratch.” He scowls slightly, clearly irritated he is in this predicament.

Again. Bless this first timer, old man. Well, not really THAT old, but still.

“I can help you with that, as for the legibility of doctor handwriting, I’m afraid that’s a lost cause,” you quip. Much to your surprise, he huffs out a laugh in response.

“Yeah no shit. It’s a good thing I clocked what the doctor said before relying on the written prescription.”

“Well, you’re in luck because we have lots of options to choose from in terms of pain management. We have anything from herb, to edibles, to pre rolls, to drinks. Anything really, you name it.”

You chirp off the options, in your customer service voice. Although it doesn’t really feel like you’re trying to sell him something at this point, moreso that you’re educating him on what’s available.

It’s a good thing too, with the way his soulful brown eyes continue to get wider, and the crease between his brows deepen with each option you mention to him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, “how about something to smoke?”

“For sure! If you’re looking for something for pain management, that’ll likely be higher on the CBD end, with less THC, more relaxation based.”

“That sounds good,” he gives you another small smile. You start to search for CBD dominant strains in the register database as he shifts a bit closer to the counter, resting his hand with the prescription slip in it, on the countertop.

He has nice hands. Big hands. With nice long, thick fingers. Like really fucking thick. And his thumbs are perfectly curved. You also notice a faint tattoo that's fading, hovering just above the webbing between his index finger and thumb, of… a bullseye? Interesting.

“Alright so we have a selection of pre rolled joints as well as loose herb for CBD, depending on what your preference is. Some people like to roll themselves, plus it’s a bit cheaper to buy it loose and roll it yourself, compared to buying pre-rolled, but it’s up to you.”

Still, he looks at you with a lost expression, but ultimately says says “Let’s go with the pre rolled ones.”

“Sounds good. Any flavour preferences? Or dislikes?”

He furrows his brows again and frowns slightly. God help this man. That should not be as endearing and cute as it is.

“Flavours?” He looks downright bewildered, as if you asked him when he’s going to jetspace off to Mars, that or to sacrifice his first born child. It could very well be both at this point. This poor old man. It must be his first time buying weed in general, not just coming into the dispensary.

Understanding his predicament, you backpedal a bit. At this point you might as well be getting commission on top of the ludacris minimum wage you receive, seeing as how eager you are to assist this man. Normally you couldn’t be bothered to be so thorough and patient with customers when it was nearing closing time but this guy is so lost, you take pity on him. It had nothing to do with how attractive he is.

“Yeah! Weed products come in all different kinds of flavours, depending on the strain. It’s more noticeable with edibles and drinks, any products you consume orally, but loose leaf herb, or the actual weed buds, have different flavours too. If you like fruity stuff there is Mango haze, or strawberry sativa, or if you like a more sour savoury palette, there is sour diesel or lemon haze. Or there are kinds that don’t have a distinct flavour profile or smell, they smell and taste pretty generic when you consume or smoke them.”

“Uh, I think those might be my best bet,” he chuckles hollowly.

“Alright, sounds good.” Going off his limited knowledge and inexperience, you pick a pack for him that is a hybrid strain, light on the THC and heavy on the CBD. Usually it’s pretty good for beginners who aren’t looking to get stupid high and not too expensive.

You turn to the back wall window behind the countertop, and knock on the glass, catching the attention of Stef and Josh.

“Hey, can one of you guys grab me the 5 pack of Moonberry pre-rolls for this walk in order?”

Stef conveniently taps her index finger on her nose and looks presumptuously at Josh, making no effort to get up from her seat, who rolls his eyes and goes over to the inventory shelf. No sooner does he walk back over to hand you the pack, does Stef tear her glance away from her phone, and peek up at the register counter, clocking the man. Her jaw drops and she instantly wiggles her eyebrows at you. Before she can put her open mouth to use and make a smart ass comment, you grab the pack of joints from Josh and pivot back towards the register. As you turn back around, you just barely catch the man’s gaze snapping back up to yours, as if he was looking somewhere further south down your body.

No. You’re just imagining that. Your brain running on fumes as the last remnant of your shift dwindles down.

“Okay, this is a 5 pack of pre rolls. It’s called Moon Berry, it’s a hybrid, but it’s very light on the THC and heavy on the CBD. Good for relaxation and it helps with pain. Try ‘em out and see how you like them.” You put the pack in a small bag and ring up the cost for him.

After he hands you the cash and takes the small bag into his massive hand, he hovers a bit. Shuffling awkwardly as he waits for something else.

“Uh, is there anything else you needed today?” you ask him after a beat. His hand clutching the bag twitches by his side, and his lips part slightly.

Okay this man is cute. More than cute. He’s ridiculously attractive in an aloof sort of way. His disheveled curls, prominent nose and chocolate brown eyes have you short circuiting, as if you were the one purchasing something from him. Still, you reassure yourself it’s the delusion of it being the final minutes of your workday, not the handsome stranger. Not at all.

Say something. Say anything. Jesus.

At this point you’re not really sure if you’re telling that to yourself or silently pleading to him.

“Need a lighter?” you blurt out in an attempt to break the silence.

“Uhm. I-.” He puts his hands in his pockets as if he was going to retrieve a lighter. Your malfunctioning brain persists though.

“Here, take it,” you grab one of the lighters with the generic dispensary logo on it, off the

display on the counter and hand it to him. “It’s on the house,” you state as you see him start to shake his head, “we don’t make money on these anyway, so they always end up as overstock.”

His large palm nearly engulfs your hand as you drop the lighter into his hand. He looks up at you and gives you a boyish smile again.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, enjoy the pre rolls. If you need anything else, feel free to give us a visit again,” your customer service voice chimes in again as you flash him a warm smile.

Trepidation sweeps across his face for a brief second before he nods and ducks his head, and as he walks out of the store. You check your phone, 4:56, thank God.

You head back into the storage room to grab your things and clock out, only to be met by your co-workers staring at you. Both with shit eating smirks on their faces.

“It’s on the house?” Josh repeats your earlier sentiment to you with a raised eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes instantly, you sigh. “Josh, you and I both know those stupid lighters rarely ever sell out. Or sell, period. It’s not like the occasional few put a dent in the weekly revenue. Plus, there’s lots of other crap in here we sell with the store branding on it.”

He continues to look at you expectantly, his smirk growing bigger.

“You gonna make me watch one of those ridiculous loss prevention videos from HR? Or can we let this go? C’mon it was the last customer of the day and we’re closed now.” You plead with him hoping he will drop it.

“If he wanted to cause you actual pain and suffering he would make you watch those HR videos again,” Stef quips cheekily. “We both wanna know why you wouldn’t just ask for that guy's number, it would have been a lot easier than committing theft as an employee.”

Your mouth gapes open as you look at her indignantly, then to Josh. Screw your best friend for knowing you all too fucking well. You couldn’t hide your poker face from her even if it was surgically constructed.

“Why would I-” you begin your protest but Stef steam rolls over your words in her true form.

“Oh, come ON, babe. I may only have eyes for women but I have to admit, he was fucking HOT and you know it. Those broad shoulders and puppy dog eyes? Probably one of the few attractive middle aged men I’ve seen come through here.”

Josh wrinkles his face in disgust. “Seriously? The dude is probably pushing fifty. He looks like he’s never gotten high in his life seeing as how he was gawking at everything in the store. You included.”

Stef hums in agreement. “Fifty or not, he’s the hottest virgin stoner I’ve ever seen in my life. And I didn’t see a ring on his finger sooo…”

“Okay, that’s it,” you cut her off before she can blurt out any more incriminating things “Let’s implement a new rule, no BETTING on the customers, and no gossiping about how attractive they are.” You huff and grab your things, before dragging your friend towards the store exit. Josh follows in tow, locking up the entrance behind you all.

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Josh mutters as he fixes you with a knowing look.

“I’m just saying,” Stef keeps going as you all walk towards the parking lot, “where else and when else are you going to meet someone with all the shit you have going on right now? Don’t you wanna get out there eventually?”

She gives you a playful shove with a bit too much force behind it. “Don’t you at least wanna get laid again? Poor gal probably has cobwebs down there,” She throws out the crass remark nonchalantly as you sputter with your jaw dropped open. Luckily, she just narrowly avoids the slap you aim at her arm.

“Alright, and on THAT note, goodnight to you both. Get home safe.” Josh shakes his head as he gets into his car.

You turn and face Stef, letting out the deepest breath you’ve probably taken all day.

She’s not wrong. It’s been well near a year since you split up with your ex. Ever since you started school and got the part time job at One Plant, you really haven’t had time for anything else. Despite being best friends and living close by, you rarely saw Stef outside of your scheduled shifts together. Relegating yourself to the hermit life, you kept busy with studying, writing papers, going to class and showing up for your shifts at the dispensary.

Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do after becoming single? Better yourself? Have new adventures? Or some shit like that.

Sure, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss being with someone. Miss the companionship. But dating in this day and age was fucking exhausting. Even though things between you and your ex ended amicably, you were still very much in your ‘men are trash era’ and the thought of going on dates and getting to know someone again nauseated you.

Annoyingly, Stef wasn’t wrong about the getting laid part. Nearly a year post breakup for a relationship that consumed 6 years of your life didn’t seem that long in the grand scheme of things. But being touch starved for nearly a year? That fucking sucked. And you wouldn’t deny missing the intimacy of cuddles, forehead kisses, and feeling close to someone. That and getting railed as if your life depended on it. Toys were nice and all but fuck you missed the feeling of having someone manhandle you, the feeling of someone giving you pleasure, winding you up. You just haven’t put your focus on that very stale and dry aspect of your life.

Stef gently grabs you by the shoulders, squeezing them. “Look, you know I love you hun, I just want you to be happy. That’s all. You gotta give it a chance again.”

Her words pull you out of your dissociation and you blink hazily a few times. You shake your head briefly and pull her in for a hug. Stef may be too outspoken for her own good but she knew you inside and out. Ater becoming best friends in grade 7, you wouldn’t expect anything less from her. But you couldn’t lie that a part of you hated when she was right.

“I know you do, and I love you for it. Even though you’re a pain in my ass. Now get home safe.”

She squeezes you at that and tells you to do the same, before you both go your separate ways.

Finally home, you trudged into your empty apartment, the weight of day’s work finally easing off your shoulders, as you kicked off your shoes and dumped your keys on the coffee table in the living room. As was your routine, you plopped down on the couch, reaching for your grinder and papers on the table, as you started to roll your joint, contemplating on what to have for dinner.

Still, the image of deep brown eyes, and that warm southern drawl ricocheted through your mind as you densely packed the grinded herb into the joint, folding the paper in on itself and twisting off the end. He was just a customer. You saw hundreds of them a day, he was nothing new. As you lit up and inhaled deeply, you felt the warm, molasses-like haze seep through your bones, clouding over your thoughts, as you melted into the couch. He was just a customer. A handsome stranger.

Despite the excuses you gave yourself, you couldn’t help but feel that wouldn’t be the last time you saw that man, or the virgin stoner, as Stef had so bluntly called him. At least you hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

TAGLIST:

@xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu, @morallyinept, @atinylittlepain, @amanitacowboy, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, @pr0ximamidnight, @wannab-urs, @beskarandblasters, @jksprincess10

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #petition to GET THAT OLD MAN HIGH

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rustedhearts · 17 days

Text

i want your things in my room (fratboy!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve harrington: resident frat boy heartbreaker. handsome, charming, good in bed—what's not to love? if only he loved you. based on this sexy thought of mine

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ rolly’s roller wheels blurbs commissions! ✶ blurbs!

tags: frat boy!steve, situationship, asshole-ish!steve, pining, kind of feral reader because i was feral writing this, smut.

"i want your things in my room, i miss you all of the time. i stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find...you look so cool, I wanna die. is it too soon to say what's on my mind?"

— in my room, julia wolf

for the lovely 🫧

wc: 2,095 (oops)

delta phi. saturday april 12th, 2009

Cords of muscle suffocated under the tight sleeve of a red cutoff—ripped while weight-lifting on the porch, you imagined. Knowing Steve, it was intentionally and meticulously cut in the bathroom mirror for a blurry cellphone image sent to another fling.

You never received texts like that. The only texts you received were late in the evening or at the crest of midnight:

you up?

coming over. unlock the back door.

The one trip-up in this eight month routine came two weekends ago at nine p.m.

coming over, brought you a surprise. want you to wear it saturday.

It was a tight white t-shirt promoting Steve for Delta Phi Senior President. You wore it like he asked, lingering in the basement corner of another Saturday party with a lukewarm beer you wanted to throw up when you saw hordes of other girls wearing the exact same thing.

He didn't even look at you that night.

But he messaged, an hour after you skulked home with a hoodie zipped over his face printed on your left tit.

didn't see you leave. can i swing by later?

He did. And you let him crawl over your naked body under a pink duvet and place his mouth wherever he liked. He didn't apologize, and you swallowed down the sharp sting of tears every time he told you how pretty you were—knowing every girl wearing his face that night received the very same treatment at one point.

You weren't special. You knew that. But he had such a way of making you feel like you were. Catching your eye through passing bodies, lifting his mouth in a sideways grin, wiggling his fingers in a tiny wave when he knew no one was looking. Cupping the back of your head in the checkout line at the coffeeshop when he passed by, because somehow he always knew when you were there. He never said a thing, but he had your heart stuttering every single time.

So, here you were. Another Saturday night in a dark Delta Phi corner, sipping a Twisted Tea and struggling to swallow past the lump of hurt in your throat when Steve's head turned to follow the path of a pretty and petite blonde. Watching his biceps flex under his sleeve, his hips turn in a pair of Levis often rumpled on your floor. You washed them once, when he came and got sick in your bathroom after a particularly intense recruitment night.

Steve lifted a wide hand and swept it through the front of his hair. You could almost smell it, the Old Spice soaked in those chestnut tresses. You used his bathroom on the second floor one time, found the red shampoo bottle resting on the edge of the tub.

And maybe you popped the cap and smelled it, closed your eyes and imagined Steve was right in front of you, pressing his cheek on your chest the way he did post-coital: panting wordlessly, letting you feel the warmth of his flesh clinging to yours, running your fingers through his hair to bring him back down.

Steve's eyes cutting your way yanked you from your warm, gut-wrenching thoughts of him. Over the swell of his own bicep: a pair of hazels fixing on your figure across the room. Your heart lurched to your throat when you locked gazes, fingers twitching to wave. He wouldn't wave back. You knew without a doubt.

But those lips quirked up in acknowledgement, and that was enough. Enough to have heat lapping at your face and coiling in your stomach. Enough to know he'd message after the party, when most of the crowd dispersed and his buddies wandered off to bed. Enough to know you'd feel his breath on your face tonight, feel his mouth over your body.

That was more than enough.

✶ ✶

You waited.

Waited—fully dressed on your bed, lamp clicked on in the darkness of the night—with the skin of your thumb between your teeth. Gnawing between glances at your phone, waiting for it to buzz with his name. The deeper the night grew, the hungrier you became. Hungry for his tongue sliding around your mouth, his fingers digging into your ribs with every pull back against his body. His palm cupped around your throat the way it often did when he took you from behind, keeping you braced against his chest so he could feel you struggle to catch your breath.

You waited. You bid your roommate goodnight through a closed door and waited. You peeled your outfit off layer by layer, checked your messages for his name, and waited. You laid back on your bed holding your phone to your faded-t-shirt-clad chest, and waited.

The hunger nestled between your legs, aching and pulsing with soreness. It was terrible how conditioned you were for Steve's attention. How horribly you craved it.

Somehow, his air of coolness made you want it more. When he avoided your eye, when your texts went unanswered, when he brushed by at a party and looped your pinkies together—you wanted him something awful.

But you wanted him most when you had him. When he was running his nose through the sweat on your neck, big hands sweeping over your stomach under the t-shirt he guided over your head. His t-shirt, always asked for in a groggy, early morning exchange before he left. When he was whispering—unwilling to wake your roommates—and promising that you were the only one he'd ever felt this close to.

"Swear nobody's made me feel so fuckin' high before," he'd say. "Love your body, baby, you're so pretty."

Tears squeezed at your lash line, burning as they spilled over. You swiped at them irritatedly, setting your phone on the nightstand and turning away from it.

And then it buzzed.

You flung your hands toward the vibration, snatching the scratched device eagerly.

coming.

missed you.

Falling back against your pillows, you let out a long, blissful sigh. He missed you. That was new.

Your phone buzzed with the long-awaited "here" text, and you had to catch yourself on the stair railing to avoid running toward the door. But the way you swung the door open and tugged him in did little to hide your excitement, and it had Steve grinning wide as you hurried back toward your room.

"Wait," he chuckled, stumbling over his sneakered feet. "Christ, you're quick to the belt tonight."

You clamped your bedroom door shut carefully, spinning around to find Steve toeing his shoes off at the end of your bed. His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek when he turned to face you again. The smirk on his mouth was delicious.

Suddenly, all that hunger coursing through you fizzled to coyness. But Steve liked when you were shy. He thought it was cute.

"C'mere."

The way he called to you—softly, a sweeter version of his usual tone—always had your nerves tingling.

You stepped in front of him, giggling when he plucked at the faded, stained material of your bed shirt near your chest.

"Sexy 'jamas," he chuckled, swooping down to press your mouths together.

"Thought...you weren't...coming," you mumbled between detachments and quiet, wet smacks.

He said nothing this time, letting his hands drop to your hips to steer you around. He guided you onto the bed, and the pair of you moved like a well-oiled carnival ride until you reached the pillows. Two heavy palms pressed into the feathers on either side of your head, and Steve's mouth continued lapping at yours vigorously.

One thing about Steve was that he was always pleased to incorporate foreplay. He loved the art of kissing, and he knew it well.

Steve pulled away far too early, moving his lips to your cheek. Down your jaw, under the junction where nerves tingled for his attention under your ear. You fisted the thin fabric of his shirt as he dragged his nose across your jaw.

"Did ya miss me, honey?" His voice took on a low gravel that brought your hairs to their ends.

Your eyes fluttered between opened and closed, hips shifting on the bed. Your breath already shallowed.

"Mhm."

"Mhm? Tell me," he cooed, nose rubbing a small circle into your cheek, breath hot on your skin. "Tell me you missed me, pretty girl."

You blinked your eyes open, glazing over the length of his lashes and flecks of honey and emerald in his gaze. You could barely feel your own body, could barely form a sentence on your own.

"I missed you," you whispered dazedly.

Steve moved his eyes down to your stomach as he dragged the t-shirt toward your collarbones. His hand glided over your navel and between your breasts.

"Missed you, too. Take your shirt off f' me, sweetheart."

He knelt at the end of the bed and watched you undress intently, eyes tracing the curves of your body as he pressed to his knees and fumbled with the buckle of his belt. When the pair of you were bare, he returned to his place hovering above you, and you took your chance to roam your hands over his chest. Firm, warm, smooth-skinned. Lifting your back off the bed, you buried your nose in his throat and inhaled deeply. Steve's chuckle rumbled through you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to feel ashamed.

"Smell good," you remarked quietly.

Steve tipped his head away from your face until you settled back into the pillows. He grinned down at you there, hair curling over his forehead and toward his brow.

"Yeah? That's new."

You shook your head, tongue fat and dumb in your mouth. Your fingers traced down his arms bracing your head. "No...always smell good."

A swallow bobbed in his throat. The back of his finger nudged your cheek from the pillow beside you. "Yeah?"

You nodded this time, meeting his eye with what he could only call a lovestruck stare—all rounded and doe-like. "Yeah."

He wished you'd shut your eyes. He wished you'd stop looking at him like he was some sort of saint. He wished you'd stop letting him get away with all the shit he put you through.

Steve was quick to switch gears, pecking a short, painful kiss to your mouth before flipping you by the hips onto your stomach. You gasped at the quick and irritated pull of your hips upward until your ass was arched in the air. He pressed on the dip in your back and you let your stomach drop toward the mattress.

"Good," he sniffed. "Look good like this."

Because he couldn't see your eyes.

And you let him fuck you like that, pummeling so deep that you were buried in the mattress by the time he was done. You didn't cum and he knew it, and the pair of you settled flat with quiet gasps. He didn't press his cheek to your chest this time, didn't tangle your fingers together between sticky bedsheets. He laid there only a few silent moments before reaching for his pants.

"Hey," you called softly, propped up on your elbows. "You're not gonna stay?"

The broad muscles of Steve's back flexed and rolled as he hoisted his jeans over his hips and secured his belt. He pulled his shirt on without turning around, feet shoved into his sneakers before you could even sit all the way up.

"Nah," he said, turning only as he headed for the door. "Gotta...um, study."

Brows furrowing, a small giggle slipped from your mouth. "Study? You don't study."

Another swallow, noisy and paired with two eyes fixed on the floor. His voice neared a whisper when he spoke again. "Trying something new."

You watched him open the door just enough for him to fit through. You hugged your soiled sheets around your bare body and felt the hunger dim to hurt again.

Steve stepped into the doorway and turned his head an inch, but not enough to see those pretty features again. "Later."

You wanted him to miss you again. You wanted to press your nose back into his neck and breathe him in. You wanted him to bring his words down low where they belonged when he spoke to you. You wanted to be his girl for a few moments more, to feel his affection through every drag of his mouth and hands.

But the door closed, and you were left to watch him jog across the street through a sliver in the drapes instead.

Just another t-shirt. Just another girl in love with Steve Harrington.

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