#best pool cues for the money | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosepascal · 3 months

Text

Hustle || Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller is a great pool player but he's got a weakness, he's a man. Which makes him the perfect target. But lets just say Joel doesn't take kindly to being hustled.

Warnings: NSFW, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, rough sex, bathroom bar sex, fingering, spanking, dirty talk, Joel is a little mean, degradation, mirror sex, light choking, brat taming, creampie, unprotected sex but readers on the pill.

A/n: I finally got actual motivation to write Joel smut so i hope u enjoy <33 Reader is a pool shark and idk why but the idea of joel playing pool is so hot.

Joel Miller doesn't lose. Especially at pool. His dad taught him at an early age how to play and he would spend hours playing against Tommy in the garage. Once Tommy got sick of losing he ended up playing with friends.

Making a few bets and cleaned them out and continued in college. He doesn't play as much anymore but the skills never went away. He's confident, maybe a little cocky but he's got history to back it up. So when he has a pretty girl batting her eyes and asking him shyly for help, well he couldn't say no now could he.

You spotted him the moment you walked into the bar. He stood with confidence, drinking straight whiskey and barely saying a word as he played. You watched him for a while. He was good, but you're better. You watched as he sunk the 8 ball and smirked as his opponent handed him a fifty. Guys like him were the perfect target.

Put on a cute face, pretend to be bad and in desperate need of a mans help, then milk him for all he's got in his wallet. Flirting with him will be easy, he was undeniably sexy. The way his arms bulged out of his shirt, and that scruff, and fuck those hands.

You walk over to his now empty table, pulling down your dress a little lower and putting on your best innocent look. He watches as you walk over to him, a pretty thing looking out of place in this shitty bar like this.

"You're really good," You rest your hand on his arm and smile.

"Do you think you could show me how to play? I've always wanted to learn." Joel's eyes wander down and he smirks. You've got him hooked.

"Course I can sugar. Name's Joel." Joel downs his drink and gestures for you to play.

You put on a fake frown and bend over the table right next to Joel. Holding the cue stick wrong and aiming to the wrong spot you pull it back and miss wildly. Huffing you turn back to Joel who was shamelessly staring at your ass.

"See." Joel chuckles and walks over to you.

"Gotta hold it like this." You bend over and shake your ass a little to "reposition" as Joel grabs your hips.

"That's good, now hold it like this." He leans over you, wrapping his arms around you to help your grip. You pull back the stick and hit the ball.

"I did it!" You cheer. You lean back against him. You bite your lip when you feel his hard cock rubbing against your ass. His arms rub up and down yours.

"Good girl." Joel isn't like the other guys you've met before. His touch doesn't make you want to vomit, he's hot, and you have to admit that the flirting isn't all fake. After a few more shots and asking him to explain the rules, you offer to play a game.

"You sure?" Joel asks.

"Please? I think I'm really getting the hang of it. We can even put money on it, say 15 bucks?" Joel feels bad knowing it's not going to end well for you but he can't say no when you're pleading so sweet.

"Alright then, ladies first." You lean over the table and take your shot. As he expected Joel won pretty handily. He laughs as you pout and hand over the money.

"You did good honey,"

"How about another one?" You ask and he shakes his head.

"Just one more, we can up the stakes too." You place your hand on his chest.

"Say a hundred?"

"That's quite a jump." He crosses his arms and your eyes flick down to his forearms for just a moment.

"You scared Joel?" You ask teasingly.

"Alright honey, if that's what you want." He leans closer to you, pushing you gently against the table and tilts your chin to meet his eyes.

"You can go first." Joel smirks and takes his shot.

The balls scatter across the table. He gestures for you to go and you smile at him sweetly. Leaning over the table you sink a ball into a pocket with expert aim.

"Lucky shot I guess."

As the game goes on Joel's smile disappears. You are much better than you let on and as you sink yet another ball, he realizes he's getting played. You drop the innocent act when Joel manages to sink two balls in a row.

"Nice shot." He's face remains stoic as you play, his gaze makes you shiver. Soon it's down to the 8 ball for you. You call the back right pocket and take your shot. When it rolls in and falls into the hole you stand up and smile.

"Good game Joel," Joel stays quiet.

He's been hustled. He fell for your sweet talking and innocent act and now he's out 100 dollars. To be honest he's impressed. You got skill for sure. But Joel doesn't like being hustled. To him, you need to be taught a little respect.

At first you're nervous he's angry, some guys do not react well to losing. But then he smirks. He takes out his wallet and hands you a hundred.

"Good game sweetheart I'm impressed. Now tell me," He walks closer to you, leaning over until his lips are right next to your ear.

"You always been such a slut?" You know you should be offended but the way he whispers in your ear, it makes your thighs clench together.

"I'm not a slut, you're just a loser." You bite back. He chuckles and places his hand on your back.

"No? Tellin' me you don't go to bars, dressing like a slut and flirting with any man who'll give you the time of day?" You rest your hands on his chest and run them up and down. His chest is firm but he's got a tummy, fuck you wonder what he looks like without his shirt.

"Sounds to me like you're ego is a little bruised, I'm not surprised. Guys like you have such a big ego and..." Your eyes flick down to his crotch for a moment before looking back to him. "So little to back it up." You fake pout and run your finger down your face to mimic a tear.

"Oh honey, I'm not little." He growls. How bout we play another, double or nothing." You smirk and push him away gently. He walks back and notices the glint of lust in your eyes.

"Bring it."

Now the two of you were really playing, both of you focused on beating the other. It felt intense, especially when Joel insisted on staring you down as you took your shots. He's proving to be the most interesting man you've ever played. You watch his hands as they wrap around the cue stick. His fingers are so big. His muscles bulge in his shirt as he lines up his shot and he doesn't realize it but when he licks his lips as he thinks is so fucking hot.

Still, you're determined to win. The game goes on until its down to just the 8 ball for the both of you. You call the center pocket and take your shot. You silently curse as you hit the cue ball in the wrong spot. You watch as the 8 ball misses and you curse. The cue ball rolls and rolls and you watch it fall into the center pocket. With a groan you realize that Joel has won over a stupid mistake. You pull out the money and hold it out for him to take. He pushes your hand away and presses your hips against the table.

"Don't care about the money, I have something much more interesting in mind." His hands grab your waist and pull you into him. You whimper as he grinds his hips slowly against you. He really isn't little.

"You can walk out that door right now, keep the money I don't give a shit. Or you can get taught some fucking respect." He's giving you an out. He watches your face for any signs of uncertainty but you show none. You stuff the money in your bra and smile.

"I think you're all talk." You pull on his shirt until your faces are centimeters away.

Your lips ghost his jaw, nipping lightly as he closes his eyes and groans. He grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the table and to the dark dingy bathrooms. He opens it and shoves you in. Locking it behind him.

"Last change honey," You bunch up your dress and pull down your panties, kicking them over to Joel who catches them. A dark look in his eyes.

"Turn around and bend over the sink, now." He commands. You do as he says but not without a little teasing. Shaking your ass at him. He stuffs your panties in his pocket and stalks over to you.

"Brats like you need to be taught a lesson." He pushes up your dress and grabs your ass.

"So you're an ass-" Your snarky comment is cut off by a sharp slap to your ass. You squeak as Joel spanks you. He sees your shocked look in the mirror and laughs.

"No ones ever put you in your place before have they?" You moan when he slaps your ass again, and again, and again. It hurts so fucking good. He doesn't hold back and you love every second of it. He shoves his fingers in between your legs, groaning at how wet you've become.

"Not a slut my ass." He mumbles as he slides two fingers deep inside of you. You whine as he fucks his fingers roughly, curling them so they hit the right spot.

"You like getting put in your place huh? Your greedy pussy is just sucking them right in."

"Oh fuck Joel, feels so good." You arch your back in pleasure, purring in delight at his dirty words.

"Say it," He grabs your throat and pulls you against his chest. Just enough pressure to make your head feel fuzzy.

"I-fuck, I'm a slut." He grins and presses his lips to your shoulder, your dress strap is sliding off your shoulder and Joel kisses where it was.

"So fucking hot," He groans. His fingers are unrelenting, you cry out as his thumb brushes your clit. The combination of his fingers and his thumb are too much for you to handle. He refuses to let up. Taking pleasure in every little sound that comes out of your mouth. The wild look in your eyes as he brings you to the edge.

"Be a good girl for once in your fuckin' life." If it wasn't for his grip on you, you'd be melting into a puddle right before him. Your legs shake violently as you come hard on his fingers. Your cunt clenches around them as Joel continues to fuck you.

"That's it," He gently lets go of your throat and you collapse onto the counter. Pleasure lingers as you catch your breath, your chest heaving up and down. You hear the sounds of a belt buckle and you see Joel drop his pants. He's stroking his cock slowly.

"I'm on the pill." You blurt out. Joel looks surprised but happy. Getting to fuck you raw is a dream come true.

"Keep your eyes on the mirror." You nod your head and turn your head back to the mirror. He pushes his cock through your thighs, getting it wet before he notches it at your cunt.

"Breathe honey," Your mouth hangs open as he slides in slowly.

"So tight." He huffs. He's so fucking big, it's like his splitting you open. He doesn't stop, he just keeps on going and going and it's taking your breath away.

"Feel good?" Joel taunts. He waits for a response but you're too focused on his cock inside of you to even hear what he said. Joel leans over you, pressing his chest into your back and wrapping his hand around your throat.

"Is a fat cock all it takes to shut you up?" He taps your cheek gently.

"Shut up and fuck me." You murmur.

"As you wish honey." He pulls back before slamming in.

He holds you in place as he plows into you. His cock etching its place in your cunt, claiming you as his with every thrust. You stare lazily into the mirror, you body still hasn't recovered from earlier and Joel isn't giving you any mercy. His brows are furrowed in an intense concentration as he pounds into you, using you like a toy.

"You're suckin' me in sweetheart, tell me do you like getting used like this?" Joel teases.

"I think you do, I think you fuck around with guys and hope one of them will finally put you in your place." He bucks his hips particularly hard which makes you groan.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Stick a cock in you whenever you want." He lets go of you and stands up, pushing your shoulders into the counter as his thrusts become sloppier. He begins to lose focus, you just feels so good, so wet, so tight. Just begging to be filled up with his cum.

"Can I come in you, please-fuck." Joel begs. The thought of you dripping with his cum is too much for him to take.

"Yes! Please fuck I want it so bad." You wail as he grabs your hips and pulls you back onto him, fucking you wildly.

"Yes yes." Joel chants as he slams his cock deep inside of you, spilling into you with a tired sigh. He grabs your waist and helps you turn and sit on the counter so you can catch your breath.

"Fuck." You breathe as you pull your dress down.

"You finally learn some manners." Joel walks in between your legs, rubbing your thighs softly.

"I don't know, might need another lesson."

"I think I can do that, how about this friday." Joel asks.

"Pick me up at 7pm." You tell him. Joel smirks and lightly slaps your thigh.

"Oh and I'll take this back." He reaches into your bra and takes the hundred.

"Can I have those back?" You point to your panties hanging out of his pocket. Joel looks down at them and smirks.

"Lets play for it." Smiling you hop off the counter and head for the door.

"You're on."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

794 notes · View notes

katiexpunk · 4 months

Note

okay i’m feeling a little delulu and playing pool with the boys right now. ideas are rolling and i want a fic where joel fucks reader on a pool table (breeding kink maybe?!?) you’re the best

Run the Table | Pairing Joel and Tommy Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: You're home for Christmas, only to find yourself there for the New Year. You decide to blow off some steam, only to end up at Joel's Place, your old local watering hole. Bits of your past get dredged up, and before you know it, Joel and Tommy have you bent over a pool table. Word Count: ~6K Warnings: Dubcon from the perspective that the reader is a little drunk, but she's definitely a willing participant. Family feuds. Alcohol. Age gap implied but not referenced explicitly. Flirting and bantering. Threesome with the Miller Bros. Betting. Pool. Oral (m and f receiving). Fingering. Praise. Use of daddy. Fucking on pool table. Pool. Suggestive use of a cue stick. Dom undertones from Joel. Hard core breeding kink. References to pregnancy. Cum kink. Cum swallowing. Praise kink. Unprotected p in v. Creampie. Use of pet names. Tommy and Joel are suave in this, but reader gives them a run for their money. Use of slut. No descriptions of reader, except that she has boobs and hair. Minimally edited. Filth, filth, filth. Authors Note: Thank you so much for the ask, Abby @javipispunk/@barzalmatty! This was such a treat to write. You naughty girl, I hope this inspires you, or at the very least, makes you O. Thanks for submitting this ask in babe, ily. This will be my last fic of 2023. Thank you all so much for your continued support.

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

The living room, which was all holiday cozy a few days ago, now feels like a battleground in the weird liminal space between Christmas and the New Year. You can’t remember the last time you spent more than three consecutive days with your family, and now you remember why.

The family drama has hit an all-time high, with arguments about the dumbest stuff echoing through the house – your mother yelling that someone put her Pyrex in the wrong cabinet, your father yelling at your brother for adjusting the settings on the remote. Hell, even the dog is over it; spending most of the day lounging in front of the LED fireplace that your mother picked up at Costco last winter. You never really understood that one, given your living room has an actual functioning fireplace.

Of course, you all love each other, it’s just that the festive candle is now nearly snuffed out; not to be lit again until Thanksgiving. Or if your mother had it her way, Easter, but you haven’t cared much for Easter since that one year that your cousin Ron ate way too many hard-boiled eggs and couldn’t stop farting all night. Never again, you swore to yourself then, and still swear to yourself now.

You come back to your hometown maybe once a year, twice if someone dies. You haven’t lived here in years, and yet the streets bear the weight of nostalgia, each corner holding echoes of memories that time has both polished and weathered. The town is a paradox, frozen in a bittersweet dance between familiarity and change.

You’re cozied up under a blanket on the couch, a glass of red swirling in one hand, the Eve Babitz novel your roommate gifted to you in the other. Try as you might, you just can’t seem to relax; the words on the page are blending into a snarled blob of ink. The tension is too much; the heavy air in the house makes it difficult to concentrate. Fuck this.

You throw on your coat and slip out of the house. I’m going out, be back later, you call out but you don’t wait for your words to be acknowledged before the front door slams shut, not that anyone was listening in the first place.

You pause on your front stoop in the cool night air and take a deep inhale, tilting your head up to the sky, the moonlight coating your face like a veil. The winter air that fills your lungs makes you feel alive, and it’s then that you realize how close you were to suffocating mere moments ago.

You stand under the stars and consider your options before eventually landing on the best of them. Your old watering hole from college; the one with the heavy pours and the best pool tables in the town – Joel’s Place.

The snow crunches under your feet as you make your way there. In the silence, it’s easy to let your let your mind wander. You haven’t been back in years, and yet, your mind still drifts to thoughts of dimples and salt-and-pepper curls. You wonder if he’ll remember you – not likely, you think.

Your stomach flutters at the thought anyway.

++++

The door to Joel’s Place creaks open, releasing a gust of frigid winter air that clings to your coat. Note to self, bring a scarf next time. The warmth inside is a welcome contrast, and the familiar scent of the aged wood and whiskey acts like a time machine and transports you back in time to your early 20s. It’s just the same; the mahogany bar, stools with cracked leather seats, and vintage beer signs adorning the walls.

While aspects of the town may have changed, you’re pleased to find that Joel’s Place has not.

As the door swings shut behind you, you find yourself in a familiar dimly lit space, except – it’s not – it’s quiet. A little too quiet. The pool tables in the distance stand untouched, their felt surfaces waiting for the familiar crack of balls colliding. The hanging lights above them cast a warm, dim glow, illuminating the emptiness that seems to linger. It starkly contrasts the energy you were surrounded by earlier in the night.

The place is empty, except for one customer at the bar. The bartender – Joel, you hope – is nowhere to be seen. You hesitate for a moment, taking in the scene before deciding to sit an appropriate two stools away from the man, not wanting to be awkward. You don’t think he would mind, not really, but you suppose the rule in a situation like this is similar to public transport etiquette. If there’s more than one open seat, you never sit directly next to anyone.

“Excuse me, sir – is this seat taken?” You ask, a hint of sweetness and formality behind your voice. You know it’s not, but the manners that were hammered into you from your tidy upbringing are hard to shake.

The man looks at you, the neck of the beer he’s nursing parting from his lips as he does. Now that you have a full look at him, he’s quite gorgeous. Olive sunkissed skin, dark curls, deep brown eyes that all but scream trouble.

“All yours, sugar,” he responds. And oh, he’s southern to boot, with a hint of a twang behind his inflection.

You slip your puffy coat off your shoulders, revealing your ensemble for the night; a simple pair of jeans and a tight long-sleeve cashmere sweater that cups the curve of your breasts and lifts them just right, a lovely slit down the middle that exposes just enough. You hook your coat under the bar and pull out the stool, its metal legs scratching against the floor as you do.

“So, the producers didn’t have enough to pay for some extras for this show, or what?” you joke, a slight smirk on your face as you settle yourself onto the stool.

“‘Spose not,” he responds, a hint of a smile on his face as he brings the bottle back to his lips, his eyes locking with yours as he does.

“And the uh–bartender, Joel, if I remember correctly,” you say, a questioning tone behind your voice, “he here, or is this just a one-man show?”

And wouldn’t that be something, you here all alone with just him.

“Can’t be a one-man show with you here, darlin',” he responds, his dark eyes drinking you down like the beer in his hand. “He’s here, just in the back hooking up a new keg,” he adds.

“Oh,” you respond, your voice a smidge too high – like you’re some fucking school girl about to see her crush in 3rd period. “Good, that’s good. Can’t have all of our friends here go thirsty,” you retort, making a vague gesture with your palm to the empty space in the bar in an attempt to recover yourself from your very obvious interest in the bartender being here. So stupid.

“Can’t have that, they’re a rowdy bunch” he responds with a wink and you flash him a warm smile. “You’re funny, I like you,” he adds, “name’s Tommy, by the way, and you are?”

You give him yours with an extension of your hand. His swallows yours, but he’s gentle and discerning with the shake he gives it. He holds you there, just looking, and you feel a warmth creep up to your face. With your hands still interlocked, a broad figure pushes through the door from the kitchen with a resounding thud.

You turn to face him, and his amber eyes immediately find yours. Your breath hitches in your throat, your pulse quickens, and you’re now acutely aware of the fact that you’re still linked with Tommy.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Either ‘m getting old and my eyes are deceiving me, or it’s little Miss Shark sitting at my bar, chatting up my brother,” Joel lets out, his voice low and even. The corners of his mouth lift and you think he might smile, but his face goes just as unreadable as always as he grabs for a bottle behind the bar. “Been a long time since I’ve seen you around here, sweetheart. Good thing, too. You ran out some of my best-paying customers."

You don’t dwell on the comment, your mind is too absorbed, drunk off the fact that he remembers you. It’s been years, but you swear he hasn’t aged a day. You can’t help but eye fuck him as he slides a glass in front of you, and pours you a finger of whiskey. Not only does he remember you, but he remembers your go-to drink, as well.

As you lift the edge of the glass to your lips, you see Tommy shift his gaze from Joel and back to you, his face twisted in an expression of disbelief.

“Wait, little Miss Shark,” he begins, tipping the bottle in his hands in your direction as if to point at you, “Yo–you’re the one who ran the tables here for years? Shit, darlin’,” he says, dropping his gaze to the bartop for a moment, trying to hide the fact that he’s impressed, before looking back at you under his lashes.

“That so hard to believe?” you respond, your voice coated in the warmth of the alcohol. Your cheeks are hot, but you’re not confident it’s just from the liquor; more than likely it’s a result of Joel’s eyes, heavy like boulders, that haven’t left you since he walked in.

Tommy doesn’t answer you.

“Not my fault they underestimated me,” you retort, nursing down the amber liquid in your glass.

Joel laughs.

You and Tommy both turn to face him.

“Bullshit, sweetheart. You knew exactly what the hell you were doin’,” he adds, nodding his head slightly to you, the bottle hovering in his hand, signaling you for a refill. He pours a glass for him and Tommy this time, too.

You look at him, mouth slightly agape like you’re waiting for him to finish his side of the story. He turns to face Tommy, one hand resting on the edge of the bartop, his knuckles bleaching under his weight. The other grips the glass in front of him.

“This one used to sit at my bar, let men buy her free drinks, and then she’d work pool into the conversation,” he says, pausing to take a sip. “She’d be all, ‘I’ve never played, maybe you could teach me blah, blah’ batting her pretty little eyes until they’d cave. By the end of the night, she’d have them makin’ bets and melting like putty in her hands.”

You try to hide your embarrassment behind your glass. He’s not wrong. You used to do that. You’re not sure if you did it because you were bored, not like there’s much else to do in this shit town anyway, or because you liked the attention, but whatever the reason you have to admit it was fun.

Besides, most of them deserved it anyway. If losing a few hundred dollars was the biggest price they’d have to pay for flirting with a young college girl while their wives sat at home waiting for them to come home and half satisfy them, well then, you were okay with that. Plus it kept your rent paid.

But that was a long time ago; it’s been ages since you’ve even picked up a pool stick. You just hope that the old idiomatic expression, old habits die hard, rings true for you now.

The alcohol that courses through your veins gives you a sense of confidence to be a bit bold. You prop your elbows on the sticky bartop and gaze up at Joel. “You gonna kick me out then, Joel? Punish me for all of my wrong-doings?” you flirt, testing, teasing. You flint your eyes over your shoulder to look back at Tommy, and can’t help the surge of arousal that you feel when you notice his eyes are already on your backside. You look at Joel and see the clench in his jaw, the furrow in his brow, his pupils blown wide open.

“No, ‘m not gonna kick you out, sweetheart,” he says, filling the glasses once more. Between that and the wine from earlier this afternoon, you’re already feeling quite buzzed, and more than a little reckless. You watch him complete the pours before reaching for your glass.

“But you are gonna have to make it up to me somehow,” he adds. Your pulse doubles and there’s a familiar tug at your navel when you think of what he might mean. Before you have time to respond, he adds “Tell you what, I’ll make you a bet this time. You see Tommy here is a bit of a pool shark himself, and well, baby you already know what I am.” Both of them look at you with dark, hungry eyes. “You beat us, you can have whatever you want,” he adds.

Your skin feels hot, and you suddenly wish you opted for something cooler than a sweater. “And if either of you wins?” you ask.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out,” Joel responds, downing the last of his drink, shooting Tommy a knowing look.

It’s a trap, you know it is.

And yet you agree.

++++

Joel rounds out from behind the bar and leads the way. He walks past the front door and locks it before pulling the plug on the neon open sign that hands in the nearby window. As you three approach the pool table, Tommy picks up a cue stick leaning against the nearby wall – he twirls it in his hands and hands it to you. He picks up another and passes it to Joel, before finally grabbing a third for himself.

“Hope you’re not a sore loser, Darlin’,” Tommy says with a wink.

You playfully roll your eyes. “We’ll see,” you cheekily respond, toying with the end of the cue stick and rubbing chalk on the tip end of it, being a little suggestive with your movements. Both Tommy and Joel notice.

You gather around the table, and Joel sets up the balls. “Alright, break time. You’re up first, sweetheart,” Joel says. You lock eyes with Joel for a moment and fuck, this is gonna be rough. He has you so flustered and you haven’t even started.

You refocus your gaze on the triangular arrangement of balls. You steady your feet and bend over the table, smiling a little when you feel both of them look at your ass. With a swift motion, you strike the cue ball, scattering the rest across the table, sinking a solid and a stripe into two adjacent pockets. Not so bad for being a little rusty, you think.

Joel lets out a low whistle and looks at Tommy. “Shit, brother, we might be in trouble here,” he says. You smile at the compliment, and round around the table so you’re directly in front of Tommy. You look at Joel as you bend over the table, lining yourself up to hit the solid ball with a clear path to the pocket in front of it.

Your ass skirts against the front of Tommy’s crotch and his breath hitches in his throat. As you’re about to take your shot, a large palm ghosts over the curve of your hip, and the sensation causes you to miss the shot. Fuck.

“Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart, you a little distracted?” Tommy coos.

They wanna play dirty. You can play dirty.

Joel’s up next. His broad frame rounds around the table, and his shoulder brushes against you as he does. He finds his best angle and deftly lines the cue stick up, his biceps straining under the cloth of his shirt at the new position. You walk over to the line of his shot and bend over on the opposite end of the table, your tits spilling out of the slit in your shirt, effectively distracting him. He takes his shot and misses.

They wanna play dirty. You can play dirty.

“Ooo, good effort on that one,” you tell Joel, placating him, “better luck next time,” you conclude with a wink. Joel clears his throat and steps back from the table.

Tommy circles the table next, attempting to find an easy shot. “So I’ve been thinking, we should make this game a bit more interesting,” you say. You watch as Tommy bends over and lines up his turn. He pulls the cue stick back, and just as he’s about to knock it against the ball, you finish “For every shot we miss, we have to strip a piece of clothing." The shock of your words causes Tommy to miss his shot.

“Guess that means you’re starting us off,” you tell Tommy. He shoots you a look. His hands find the buckle of his belt and he undoes it, discarding it on a nearby chair.

The three of you play like that until both Joel and Tommy are clad in nothing but their boxers and socks. You, on the other hand, are still mostly clothed, except for your sweater. Your game started rough, but despite their best efforts to distract you, you’re running the table.

With only one ball left on the table, you walk up to where both of them stand side-by-side. You stand there facing both of them, and they allow their eyes to linger on your chest. Tommy is standing with his hands cupped in front of his crotch, in an attempt to hide his growing bulge. Joel, however, is unreadable as ever.

You lock eyes with him as you snake your arms behind your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. You unhook it, your nipples stiffening in response to air. He casts a quick gaze down to your breasts but doesn’t allow them to linger before he looks at you. His jaw is stiff, and he looks at you like you’re something to eat. Keeping your eyes peered into his, you hold the bra out and give it to Tommy. The moment is so charged. So many things being said with no words, all body language discussion.

You take a few steps back before turning around to grab your cue stick that’s resting against the edge of the pool table. You walk over to the other end of the table and line up the final shot of the game. “So I’ve been thinking about what I want as my prize,” you say, bending down far enough that your tits smush against the felt on the table. “And what’s that, sweetheart?” Joel asks. You let out a little hum of satisfaction, dragging the cue stick back. “Want you both to fuck me, right here on this table,” you add, punctuating your statement with your final shot. You watch with bated breath, releasing it when you see the last ball on the table fall into the pocket.

The three of you stand there in silence, waiting for someone to make the first move.

“You heard her, brother,” Tommy says, advancing towards you. “A bet’s a bet.” His hands find your hips from behind, and he pulls your backside against his firm body, dropping his head to nip at your neck. His lips trail up the side of the sensitive skin there and you let out a little purr as his tongue darts out to lick your pulse.

Your lusty gaze watches as Joel closes the gap between your bodies, and he pauses inches from you. He lifts his palm and uses the backside of it, trailing his knuckles down your cheek, over the soft swell of your chest, until his hand opens up and cups your breast.

It’s all dizzying touch, your vision already a little fuzzy from your buzz, and with Joel’s hand on your body in addition to Tommy’s mouth, you’re the one who’s putty in their hands this time. Joel brings your nipple to a stiff peak using his thumb and forefinger, before he lifts them back up to your face. He hooks two fingers under your jaw, tilting you up to face him.

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?” Joel says, voice low. You look up at him with doe eyes.

“I know. Now what are you going to do about it?” you taunt.

Tommy stops his affections on your neck and looks up to lock eyes with Joel. He gives a knowing smirk and Tommy reaches his arms around your body and begins to undo the button on your jeans, the zipper following, before he's pulling them down far enough for you to step out of them.

“Oh, sweetheart. We’re going to fucking ruin you. Right here on this table, just like you asked,” Joel says.

“Think you can handle that, hmm? Want both of your daddy’s to stuff that pretty little cunt of yours until you can’t think straight?” And fuck, he’s filthy. His words go straight to your core and you feel slick pooling in your panties, your pussy just begging to be touched.

Before giving you time to respond, his large hand comes down to cup your sex.

“Shit, baby. All this for us?” Joel asks. Your eyes close when you feel Tommy continue his assault on your neck. You’re pinned between both of their bodies, their hard cocks pressing up against you from both angles. It’s already so intense. The want, the sheer desire you feel for both of them is almost overwhelming.

“Use your words, Darlin’, we wanna hear it,” Tommy rasps against your skin.

“Ye–yes, all for you both, want you so bad,” you respond with a moan. A groan reverberates through Joel’s chest, and he gives Tommy the same knowing look they’ve shared all night.

Tommy steps back and comes to stand by Joel’s side. “You’re gonna have to earn it. On your knees, baby,” Joel commands.

You fall to your knees and feel the hard, wooden floor against your bare calves. You position yourself in front of both of them and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for one of them to give you further instructions, practically worshipping at the altar of the two gorgeous men above you. Joel reaches down and brings his pointer finger to lift your chin to face him. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty like this,” he rasps. As he releases you, they both nod and you take that as permission to release both of them from the confines of their fabric prison.

You start with Tommy, dipping your fingers beneath the band of his boxers. Instinctively, your eyes find Joel’s and you glance at him as if to ask for permission again. He nods once more, and you drag them down to the middle of Tommy’s thighs. The cock that springs free is fucking delectable; a perfect width and a sizable length. The tip is prominent and there’s a thick vein bulging along the side of it. He’s well endowed, and thank fuck for that. Your hands reach up to grasp the base of it, and your tongue darts out to lick the bead of pre-cum that’s welled at the tip. It’s salty and delicious, leaving you wanting more, more, more.

You pull your mouth away from Tommy and replace it with your hand, slowly and firmly stroking the length of him, his skin smooth like butter under your palm. He starts to protest when he realizes what your next move is. You use your free hand to release Joel from his fabric confines and moan at the sight of his cock. Of course, they both would be blessed below the belt. As delicious as Tommy’s cock is, his older brother has a bit of a lead on him.

Truthfully, you’re not surprised in the slightest. Joel’s cock is well above average in length, but the main attraction is the thickness. Just from the looks of it, your fingers probably wouldn’t meet if you wrapped your fingers around him. His girthiness intimidates you, but you don’t scare easily. You were hungry before, but now you’re positively ravenous. You kitten lick Joel’s tip then fully suck on it, eliciting a throaty groan from him. You smile around it, pleased at yourself for being able to affect him like that.

You want to please the pair of dangerously handsome brothers, but you’re aching for praise from Joel.

“Lay back, baby,” Tommy commands, guiding your hips up to rest against the grain of the pool table. And you do, the texture of the felt rubbing against your back in a soft embrace. Both of their hands find your chest with flat palms, and they drag them down over the expanse of your breasts and stomach. They pause, both of them face-to-face with your cunt. ‘Go ‘head brother, all yours,” Joel says to Tommy.

And shit, the hot mouth that greets your wet core is inviting in more ways than one. His lips lock around your waiting clit and you moan in response to the sensation. As Tommy sucks at your center, his tongue making perfect rotations on your clit, you can’t help but let go.

“Shit, that’s so good – need more,” you beg, and Joel can tell the ask you’re making is for him. He slips his middle finger into your pussy, and your wall clenches around him. The pressure that Tommy applies to your clit is so good, you could probably come just from him, but the added drag of Joel’s finger sawing in and out of you reminds you that you want more, need more, need him.

“Joel, yes – fuck, yes, please don’t stop,” you beg. Tommy continues tracing patterns over your clit and Joel adds a second, then a third finger, which you greedily accept. “More!” you beg, and Joel obliges, slipping a fourth finger into you. “Such a tight fucking cunt, not sure how I could fit another, but happy to stretch you out baby, gotta get you ready f'us,” Joel says. Tommy purrs as he laps up your release, and Joel groans, wishing he was the one at your chef’s table, sampling all of your flavors.

With the way both of them work at you, you feel like a helpless fish, caught on their hook. They dropped the bait and you were quick to bite, now having to pay the price for your decision. The both of them reel in their line, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. They drag you to the water line of your orgasm, and you give up any hope of staying below the shoreline.

Your release washes over you like a wake from a boat, an inevitable. You let the waters fall from your shore before you open your eyes and see both of them, their hard cocks staring you in the eyes. Giving you a moment to come up for air, Joel gently strokes your cheek, an act of tenderness amongst the debauchery taking place.

Tommy gives Joel a knowing look and lifts his right leg to help hoist him onto the pool table. With you spread out underneath both of them, he positions himself right above your head. You all but drool at the sight of him stroking his cock from this vantage point, Tommy looking down at you as if he were seeing his reflection in a pond for the first time. His jaw hangs slack as he works himself from base to tip.

Meanwhile, Joel’s hands find your hips and he deftly tugs you down, so your waiting pussy is just barely hanging over the edge of the pool table. He puts your legs over his brawny forearms, bearing the weight of your lower half, and spreads your legs wide, fully exposing your glistening cunt to him.

You’re almost shivering with how badly you want his cock inside you. He grabs the base of it in one hand, the tip of him barely ghosting against your wet and dripping seam. He collects some of your arousal on him, before using his thumb to drag it over the length of his member.

He knows he could fuck you just like this, lord knows you’re wet enough, and he's done his due diligence to stretch you, but he knows he’s a lot to take. He leans his head down and spits, his saliva falls onto the tip of him, partially covering himself and your clit. He taps the mushroom head of his cock on your clit a few times, a thin string of saliva connecting both of your bodies as he pulls it back.

As much as you would love to focus on Tommy’s length in your face, your sole attention is on Joel, who’s about to fill you to the hilt. “Mouth wide open, baby,” Tommy begs above you, calling you back to his attention. You feign your hardest to listen. You open your jaw wide, and he places the tip of his cock on the tip of your tongue, dragging the heaviness of it over the expanse of it.

Just as he slides in deeper into your wet and waiting mouth, Joel bunts his hips forward, pressing half of him into your tight hole. It’s so much, and they’re both not even halfway in yet.

They lock eyes with each other and synchronize their thrusts. Joel pulls back and thrusts into your cunt, and Tommy pulls back momentarily before your mouth welcomes him deeper into your throat, so deep in fact that the tip of him bumps up against the back of it, nearly causing you to gag. The corners of your eyes prick with tears, and whether it’s from the stretch of Joel’s cock, or the head of Tommy’s knocking on the back door of your throat, you’ll never know.

“Shit, brother. She’s taking this cock so well, Jesus fuck,” Tommy mutters, thrusting his member in and out of you with a relentless pace, his hands now tangled in your hair like a bird's nest in a tree.

“God damn, you’re telling me. Little cunt is taking me so well,” and his words cause you to clench harder around him.

“Gotta ease up baby, or both of your daddy’s are gonna fill you sooner than we both want to,” Tommy rasps behind a breathless voice, “so good, so fucking good, my god.” You revel in their doubled praise and you can’t help but clench tighter, and Joel notices.

“Ah fuck, brother. I think that’s what she wants. Little slut wants us to pump her full of our cum,” Joel rasps, continuing his relentless pace, dragging his cock in and out of you. You moan in response, your words muffled around the expanse of Tommy, “Fuck, want you to fill me up so bad, both of you.”

“You hear that,” Tommy says in a breathless voice. “You heard her, give the girl what she wants,” Tommy encourages Joel. And fuck. These two are going to be the death of you.

“That what you want, sweetheart? Want Daddy Joel and Daddy Tommy to pump you full of all of our seed, want us to leave you dripping with both of us,” Joel says, his pace quickening, his grip on your hips strong enough to bruise. “Yes, fuck, fill me up, want every last drop of both of my daddy’s cum.”

Joel looks up at Tommy.

“Wouldn’t that be quite the fucking sight? Her all round from your baby, her pretty tits engorged with milk, me fucking dribbling out of her mouth," Tommy says.

"Such a dirty little slut, so good for us,” Tommy praises. Had anyone else uttered those words your skin would crawl, but it’s different coming from the pair of them. You’d let them spread you open wide and fuck you full of their come any day.

“Fuck, I think she likes the thought of that, I can feel her clamping down on me, gripping me so goddamn tight, brother,” Joel rasps. Your lips tighten around Tommy, and they both continue to use you, fucking you like they want, like how you know you need. They abuse both of your holes in their relentless chase for their own orgasm.

“Shit brother, ‘m close, not gonna last much longer,” Tommy groans, and you can tell. His cock stiffens and his pulses become more and more erratic.

“Not yet, need her to come again for us first,” Joel demands, dropping his thumb to your clit, beginning to drag slow and near-perfect circles over your sensitive bud.

“Need you to give us one more. C’mon, you can do it,” Joel continues to egg you on. “You’re so pretty when you come, give us one more, baby. Our perfect girl, let us feel it.”

With that, your whole body convulses and your vision goes white. You can’t help the shakes that follow, your entire body trembling like an earthquake. “Fuckfuckfuck, yesssss,” you cry out, your release taking over you like watercolor paint spilling onto paper, blurring the lines your pleasure has always been confined to – until now.

Joel and Tommy continue their movements, slowing as they reach their own peaks. “So close, baby, gonna come down this pretty fucking throat, gonna be a good girl and swallow your daddy’s thick load,” Tommy grunts out before he stills and shoots his spend down your throat. It’s so much, some dribbles out the corners of your mouth and down your chin.

Joel watches as you greedily swallow his brother's load. “Such a good girl. You gonna tell your pretty little cunt to swallow all of me too, hmm? Gonna flood that little pussy with my load, fill you so full,” he raps. “Gonna plug you so good after ‘m done, not drop is gonna go to waste, baby.”

You gulp, swallowing the rest of Tommy’s spend before answering, “Yes, Joel, p-please fill me up with your come, daddy,” you squawk out, voice hoarse from Tommy’s crusade on your mouth.

“As you wish, pretty girl,” Joel teases, as if he wasn’t the one to come up with the idea.

He thrusts once, twice and he’s filling you with his cum, just as he promised. He stills inside of you, and his forehead comes to rest on your chest. The sticky sweat on his skin makes it tacky, clinging to you in a way that parallels how you’re clinging to this moment. Both of your chests are heaving, ragged breaths coming out almost in sync.

After a few long moments, Joel reluctantly lifts his head up and slowly pulls out, but before any of his load drips out he uses a finger to plug your hole. You gasp and your body jolts from the oversensitivity. “Makin’ sure it sticks, darlin’,” Joel coos in your ear and gently moves the stray strands of hair from your face.

Thoroughly fucked out, you ask the pair of them, “So just out of curiosity, what would you have asked for if either of you had won?”

They both look at each other as if to decide if they want to tell you the truth or not.

“Come back next year for a rematch and we’ll tell you,” Tommy says.

With the way both of them look at you, how could you not?

It’s not even January and yet, here you are – excited for Easter.

What a fucking plot twist that is.

END

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @sydneyinacoma @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @brittmb115 @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @morallyinept @tobesolovelysstuff @notsosecretspy @alokaerza @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @morgaussy @missladym1981 @pedrostories

As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). I'll still be using my tag list for now, but I just started a notifs blog, so will be transitioning to that eventually. Please follow @katiexpunkupdates to get notified when I post fics.xx

Happy New Year!

#joel and tommy #joel miller smut #tommy miller smut #threes0me #joel miller x female reader #tommy miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #tommy miller fanfic #pedrohub #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #tlou fanfiction

588 notes · View notes

nymphaliia · 25 days

Text

𐙚 TOKYO REVENGERS SMUT

୨୧ gamer!boyfriend!rindou x f!reader

— your boyfriend is a pro gamer and spends all of his time at his desk. and of course, his sweet girlfriend spends all of her time at his desk too, specifically under.

cw : oral (m!receiving), throat fuck, mouth cockwarming, cum swallow, slight cum play, dumbification, "slut"...

my masterlist : ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

rindou is your oh so sweet boyfriend, so kind and attentive. he spoils you and treats you so well you can't help but want to return the favour.

but what good can you be ? you've got no money and rin most likely already has everything he wants.

don't worry though! rin is quick to chase that worry away from that cute little brain of yours! you want to please your boyfriend that much is that right? surely you must know another way to please him instead of material good ?

that's when rindou uses your desperate desire to thank him, to manipulate his dumb girlfriend into her knees to keep him warm during his intense game sessions.

devoted as you are, you'll stay here and agree right? that's the only thing rin ever asked of you, you can definitely do him this favour.

you need no more convincing and you're greedily waiting for any command from him, desperate to show him just how grateful you are for his kind treatment.

you look up through your eyelashes at your boyfriend's face, meekly kneeling between his spreading legs. he looks so hot, all serious and frowning, muttering curses under his breath, translating his frustration at his game.

when he finally gets a more peaceful moment, he takes that as his cue to unzip his pants without a word, eyes riveted to his screen.

he doesn't look at you when he reveals his hard on and only tells you to keep it in your mouth. you mustn't move, he tells you, just keep him warm and wet, and then maybe you'll get a reward.

so you do, obediently opening wide for him and swallowing his whole length until its tip is kissing the back of your throat and your nose is touching his pubic hair. you try your best to relax your airways, feeling tears already building up.

but you finally adjust and manage to not move an inch, keeping still like he warned you to. your jaw is aching like crazy by the first fifteen minutes and time feels way longer than it should.

but you feel so good around him! the simple thought of helping rin relax is enough to get you going another ten minutes. his praises are like music to your ears and when he tells you how much of an adorable little slut you are, it feels special, and great.

rin loves to use you. the way you look under him is enough to keep him hard for another hour. he avoids looking down at you, knowing he'll be met with your big doe eyes, a terribly sweet contrast to how your plump lips are stretched around his fat cock. he knows he won't be able to complete his game if he catches your pretty face servicing him from under.

but even though you don't move and he doesn't look at you, he can only imagine what you look like right now. a pool of saliva dangling from your chin, some tainting your top. you look depraved, with glossy eyes and rosy cheeks, submissive hands delicately resting at the top of your lap.

all of this just makes him want to fuck your throat until you can't think of anything else but his dick. which might already be the case considering how you've been swallowing him for the past thirty minutes now, nostrils breathing in his strong scent.

so he makes sure to use your mouth as a fleshlight the second he wins his game, claiming he needs his reward for finishing number one. and you comply enthusiastically, readjusting your posture to prepare yourself for what's to come.

he takes your head in his hands, one holding the top, fingers roughly laced in your hair in a strong knot, and the other placed firmly on your nape.

you let him guide you up and down his length, jaw all mushy and ready to be used however. it hurts and your body is aching from the position you've been sitting in. but you say nothing, figuring his pleasure is your priority right now. his low grunts make you shiver and encourage you to keep bobing your head up and down.

it feel obscene. gags and sloppy sounds are bouncing off the walls, barely covering rin's own blissful moans. your eyes are burning and your reflexes are getting bolder, praying you for a breath, so you dig your nails in your flesh hoping it'll help you stay in place.

you feel rindou chase his own high, his thrusts are getting more uncontrolled, he keeps whispering dirty words and sweetly insults you. and when he feels it coming, he locks your head in place with his arm chocking you.

he tells you to stay still. "I'm- I'm gonna cum baby, fuck, make sure to catch all of it okay?" and you do, unmoving, receiving his seeds gratefully like an angel receiving a favour from god.

you feel light-headed by the time he finishes painting your mouth white, thick rope of cum pooling inside and forcing you to taste the sour and bitter liquid. him letting go of your face feels like a liberation and if it wasn't for the sperm in your mouth you would've panted like a dog the moment his dick slowly slid out of your mouth, sensitive from the recent orgasm.

"that's my good girl. always such a pretty cock sucker for me" he babied, slightly pating your cheek condescendingly, soft dick lazily kept in hand.

"did you like my gift baby? come on show me your reward sweet face" rin watched in satisfaction as you nodded eagerly and opened wide to show him the mouthful of cum he just dumped inside you.

he softly praised you and encouraged you to swallow after you played with it for a bit, turning it around in your mouth like it was the most delicious juice ever.

"god, you're such a useful little cum slut baby, this made me so happy. are you gonna let me use your throat again tomorrow angel?"

and how else can you answer if not by a cheerful "yes!" and a quick peck to his dick to show rin just how happy you are now that you can prove yourself to be just as capable of making his days better, like he does with you!

224 notes · View notes

animereaderinsertwriter · 10 months

Text

Pairing: Cloud Strife x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: frenemies to lovers, Cloud's memory problems, reader is an assassin, smut, porn WITH plot

Final Word Count: 9k

Plot summary: A mercenary and an assassin walk into a bar. They bicker, have sex, then go home and freak out about it. The whole thing feels like it should be a joke, but it isn't— and no matter how bad it hurts, they keep coming back for more.

ao3 link

“Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table…”

The entrance to Hell's Maw yawned lazily open, with the wooden door leaning crookedly off of its hinges. The door— made of sturdy oak— had held up well against bar fights between mercenaries, master thieves, and assassins for over a decade; it was riddled with holes from unsuccessful knifings and stray bullets, and sported faint airbrushings of blood from more successful endeavors of the same sort. Really, the agency ought to have replaced it by now as a favor to the bar for letting its employees regularly trash the place— but those stingy bastards couldn't be bothered with anything outside of making money off the hard labor of people bigger, meaner, and certainly more deadly than themselves, and so the door remained as it was.

Fondly, you patted the door as you passed it; the little creak it gave felt like a 'thank you,' and you smiled as you slipped inside the building, largely unnoticed by the Friday night crowd.

Despite its name, Hell's Maw was a cozy, comfortable establishment. There were large, comfortable booths lining the walls, the fabric of their green seats cracked and slightly worn in the middle; a few pool tables with green felt were nestled comfortably in the middle of the room. There was always something soft and smooth playing from the jukebox in the corner, and the lighting was dim enough to feel gentle and ambient, but bright enough that a girl didn't feel the need to squint at her plate for deformed food.

Tonight, a few familiar faces were gathered around the pool tables, holding cues that had been haphazardly duct taped back together a few times. The quiet buzz of conversation was a comforting lull, and there was a pleasant smell drifting out from the kitchen that had you sighing at the thought of a warm meal.

Home sweet home, you thought, smiling as you took in the scene.

"Evening, Kitty," you greeted one of the servers as she passed by. "What's the special tonight?"

Kitty was a short, pleasantly plump woman with a freckled face and flaming hair. To look at her, you'd never know that she spent her evenings catering to smugglers, tramps, thieves, and worse— but she was as strong as she was beautiful, so generally speaking, she got whatever she wanted out of Hell's Maw's regular patrons.

"Shepherd's pie," said the waitress, grinning back as she bussed a table, "but your friend over there is putting everyone off their dinner with that sour look on his face. It's a wonder anyone can keep their drinks down, what with his mean-mugging."

You followed Kitty's gaze to the bar, where a familiar shock of blond hair glowed honey-golden in the incandescent lighting.

To your credit, you tried hard to stifle your laugh.

Sitting on what you had come to think of as your barstool, Cloud Strife looked even more brooding and mysterious than usual. A glass of his choice poison— lemon water with a pinch of mint— was sitting untouched on the mahogany wood in front of him. As he sat there, glaring at his glass, he seemed so miserable that you couldn't even be mad at him for stealing her seat.

Alas, despite your efforts, the sight earned a giggle.

"He looks to be in a fine temper," you noted slyly, wagging your eyes at Kitty.

Kitty huffed.

"He looks like he's swallowed a hornet's nest."

You laughed again.

"I'd best go see what he wants, then," you said. "If it's any comfort to you, I can't imagine he'll stay very long."

"Oh, he's no trouble," said Kitty mischievously. "As for myself, don't care what face he makes when he's got a face like that."

You giggled. He really was handsome, that bastard.

"I'll be sure to tell him you said that. Later, Kitty."

"Later," said Kitty with her signature wink.

As you approached the bar, you wondered at Cloud's presence there. It was a rare day that he arrived at the bar before you, and even rarer that he should be waiting for you and not sitting in a booth with a friend— an actual friend— or chatting up some girl at the pool tables. You couldn't recall a time when he'd been this forward with his presence at your little meeting place, and you'd be lying if you said the newness of it all didn't set you on edge.

Cloud Strife in general set you on edge.

"Hello, first class," you greeted him, smiling.

As he turned to acknowledge you, you slid gracefully into the seat next to him, signaling to the bartender for a little something sweet and strong.

"Cutthroat," he returned without malice.

You turned your best pout on him.

"Now, now, you're being uncharitable. You're in my seat, and I haven't even considered cutting your throat." You thought for a moment. "Well, until now at least "

He raised a brow, in a moment both teasing and deadly.

"If it's any consolation, though, it's more of a scientific interest than anything," you added as an afterthought. "It's not often that I get contracts for anyone like a SOLDIER, you know."

Blue-ringed green peered at you with familiar, friendly distaste.

"I'm not stupid enough to be one of your marks," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "I think with my upstairs head, which is more than I can say for the guys you get paid to kill."

It was a bit naive of him to assume such a thing. No man was above being one of your marks.

"Then praise be that the world isn't full of good, right-honorable ex-SOLDIERs like you," you shot sweetly back at him. "Poor little me would be out of a job."

Cloud let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, then sobered and stared moodily into his glass of water. He looked like a petulant child who'd been sent to his room as punishment.

"Come on, why so sour?" you prodded, trying to keep your tone teasing. "Did you get turned down this evening before I got here? If so, I'm sure the pretty brunette in the corner would go home with you— she's been staring at you since I walked in."

He scowled.

"Why does it always have to be about sex with you?" he snapped as the bartender handed you your glass of fruity bliss. "Are the men you seduce to kill not doing it for you anymore?"

You took the insult in stride.

"Why?" you challenged, leaning forward, eyes flicking up to meet his. "Curious?"

Cloud was the first to look away.

Somehow, it was always this. He would come to you in moments of woundedness or weakness and pick a fight that he couldn’t finish. Fights about work, fights about drinks, fights about the sex that neither of you were having, and fights about fighting just for fighting's sake— too often, you found yourselves here, in this endless cycle of strange and hateful amicability. Why, you didn't know— but it wasn't like that was going to stop you from playing your little game.

"Why are you in my seat?" You began again, changing tactics. "You know that's my seat. I'm fairly certain the groove of my ass cheeks are worn into the shape of it by now."

"Wanted to be," he replied with a little shrug of powerful shoulders. "It's a nice seat. Got a problem with it?"

You hummed, sipping from your drink.

"Not at all. Just curious as to what's wrong with you today."

Cloud cut his eyes at you.

"Who says there's something wrong with me?"

"Oh, there's something wrong with everyone here. The fact that you're picking a fight with me today is especially telling, though."

"Not picking a fight," he grumbled.

"Of course not," you replied, placating. "Now— would you like to tell me what's on your mind, or should I try and guess?"

Cloud stayed silent, but took another drink from his minty lemon water.

Guessing it was, then.

"Don't know which girl to pick again?" you scanned the bar. There were plenty of Cloud's type there— sweet innocents that looked like they needed protecting. "I can help like last time. Blondie by the pool table has got great tits and a sweet smile, but she'll want to do it missionary the whole time. The brunette I was talking about earlier is probably a bit kinkier, if that's what you're i—"

Cloud moved to get up, disgusted.

Wrong guess, then.

"I'm teasing," you told him, tugging his arm. "Sit down, drama queen."

Cloud eyed you warily, but reluctantly sat back down.

"You know," you said gently, "this would be easier if you could just tell me what's going on."

Cloud's expression shuttered closed. It was as if a mask had dropped into place over his features, locking them into a single blank expression.

"Nothing's going on. I told you, I'm fine."

You were beginning to feel frustrated. Hell's Maw was a haven for damaged colleagues of a hellacious profession. Most of them came for one of two reasons: to have sex, or to play house in a place where the job didn't matter. Cloud was the former, you were the latter. You fulfilled his need to banter and blow off steam, and he fulfilled your need to care and watch out for someone. It wasn't like you were friends. Currently, he wasn’t fulfilling your needs, and you weren't fulfilling his— so why were either of you even there?

"You're a shit liar, Cloud Strife," you huffed. "If all you're going to do is act like an ass, then you can get out of my seat and find someone else to abuse with your presence."

He shook his head.

"I doubt someone like you could understand."

You leaned back in your seat. An odd hurt pierced your chest.

You knew your lives were different. You knew he disapproved of yours. That was an old fight that had already scabbed over into little more than scars on your psyche; but if he wanted to pick it until it bled once more, you would indulge him with scratches of your own.

"Someone like me," you repeated, the words bitter as lye soap in your mouth. “Tell me, Cloud— what, exactly, do you think I am?”

You stared deeply into his eyes, challenging him. As you did so, you noted the mako-greenish tinge in the center of his iris, and not for the first time, the weight of your secret pulsed within you, threatening to fizzle out from you in white-hot sparks.

“I think you’re a murderer,” he told you, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re a contract killer, and what’s worse, you use your body to lure men to their deaths like some kind of demented, two-bit—”

You had heard these words before. Refusing to hear them again, you drew back your hand and made to strike him; you didn’t get far, though, before Cloud’s SOLDIER reflexes proved their worth and caught your hand before the slap could land. Even through his glove, you could feel the mako beneath his skin, and you shivered.

“I told you before,” you said, speaking carefully, willing control to return to you. “Don’t call me a whore ever again. If you do, it will be the last word you say.”

Gently, you nudged the blade in your other hand against his ribs, and he flinched backwards, apparently not having seen or anticipated the movement despite the obvious distraction of the slap.

“I don’t have to say it,” he replied calmly, tightening his grip on your wrist. “You put the words in my mouth, so if the shoe fits, then fucking wear it.”

The flow of mako within him was strong, pulling at you physically like the opposite side of a magnet. A breath, then two, and it was under control— but those words cut deep. Hearing them from someone like Cloud cut even deeper.

"You know what, I don't have to take this from you," you said, trying to take your arm back. He didn’t let you, instead holding you fast against your will. Feeling vengeful, you added, "Especially not when you're such a hypocrite."

Cloud's expression was impassive, marble-esque, but the hardening of his eyes told you that you'd hit the mark.

"Excuse me?"

You smirked.

"What, you think I don't know what you get up to around here? How you fuck around with these girls and that pretty barmaid at Seventh Heaven? And yet you think I’m the whore? Get a grip, man."

"What?"

There it was— hurt and indignation that mirrored your own flashed in his eyes, and you knew you had him.

"Oh, you heard me," you said, tilting your head like another girl might for a kiss. "I'd bet top dollar that your big-titty Tifa would give her right arm to play housewife for you, and you play right along with her, the poor thing. Does she know you come here every week for an easy lay?"

Cloud snarled, enraged, and roughly threw your wrist away from himself as though disgusted.

"I've never touched Tifa!"

You grinned wryly, massaging your wrist, and said,

"And don't you know it kills her?"

It occurred to you then that you might have gone a bit too far. Cloud's hands were balled into white-knuckled fists, and he looked as if he might hit you. A moment of tense silence swept over the both of you, a tug of war of will-he-won't-he between you— and then as he always did when it came to matters of the heart, Cloud Strife took the easy way out.

He turned away.

"Coming here was a fucking mistake," he growled, fitting that giant, way-too-Freudian sword to his lean, muscled back. "I don't know why I fucking bothered— of course you wouldn’t take this conversation seriously."

"What conversation?" you shot back. "If you think shit-talking me to my face is a conversation, you've got bigger problems than leading some girl on."

He rounded on you.

"I'm not leading anyone on. I don't feel for Tifa like that and she knows it."

You arched a brow. "Oh, so you've told her?"

Cloud faltered.

"Well— no."

"Then is she just supposed to guess?"

Cloud scowled, no doubt ready to double down on his point— but you, suddenly conscious of the setting and the kind of hurt it would cause if talk like that got back to Seventh Heaven, moved closer and said seriously,

"That girl loves you. Everyone from here to topside knows except you. You break her heart, and I feel for her. Every woman has cried the tears she cries for you— most are just smart enough to cut thoughtless, careless bastards like you off."

Cloud shook his head, expression closed.

"No way. Tifa's smarter than that."

You smiled, though it ached.

"No woman is," you told him gently. "Love is our gift, and our curse."

"You're full of shit."

Ah, that was it, then. Once he began to resort to blind insults, you knew you'd won.

"No, I'm right, and it bothers you— and you know what else I think?"

Cloud folded his arms.

"Can I pay you not to tell me?"

You ignored him.

"I think that you think I should be as tortured and as guilty as you feel, and it bothers you even more that I'm not. I understand this world, live in it, accept it, and so you believe that I am just as bad as everyone else in this stupid bar. And that, Cloud, is why you’re here right now, so let me give you this piece of wisdom."

You caught his arm again as he tried to turn away, feeling the warmth of him beneath your hand.

"I have no guilt, and I have no shame. It is the world who should be ashamed for having need of me. Of having need of us."

In that moment, you found yourself nose-to-nose with Cloud, sharing his breath. His eyes— his beautiful eyes— were trained on yours, calculating, analytical. His breath smelled of lemon. You wanted to taste the sourness of it from his lips, feel the burn of its acid in your split lip.

"Don't be ashamed," you murmured, forcing your eyes to return to meet his gaze. "You are what they made you, but you survived. Never, ever be ashamed."

The place where the skin of your palm met the skin of his forearm burned with electric warmth. You found that touching this prickly, untouchable man felt like holding a live wire. From the very beginning, you had known that Cloud Strife was a powerhouse, a living weapon; somehow, though, you had neglected to realize what kind of power he had over you before this skin-to-skin contact.

After a moment, something dawned on you, and you were horrified. Just like Tifa, just like every woman watching them and seething with jealousy, you wanted him.

"I hate you," he said, but moved closer. "I hate how easily you justify this life."

"I accept your hate," you said, "but you can't deny what I've said is true."

"I hate that too." He moved his arm away from your hand, bringing his hand up to touch your neck, his thumb resting in the hollow of your throat. He could easily kill you, even with your knife still at his ribs. You fought against the urge to close your eyes and let the sensation of it consume you.

"I do wonder why you came here then," you mused softly, "why you're bothering with talking to me when you could take one of these little fawns home with you."

"I don't want them," he said almost distractedly, his eyes dark and intense on yours. "At best, they're a means to an end."

This was news to you. You'd watched him take them home night after night like clockwork.

"Then what do you want?"

He never once broke his gaze with you. You never even saw him blink.

"Would that I knew."

Cloud tilted his head. You thought you had imagined it, until his nose bumped yours.

Was this what he had come here for?

You weren't sure. Either way, he lingered back, unwilling to close the distance. If you wanted to kiss him, you would have to choose it for yourself; if you wanted him, you had to make the active, conscious choice to cut yourself on his edge, and take the pain that would come with it.

You weighed the costs, found them worthy. You leaned forward, closing the gap, and let him kiss you.

Oh, what a kiss.

The act itself was simple. It was only the touching of flesh, soft and surprisingly gentle. The mako-power under his skin pulsed against the places where you touched— your lips, his hand at your throat, your palm against his bicep— and a powerful twinge of want jerked the nerves between your legs, wanting, needing more.

Distantly, it occurred to you that if any of the kisses you'd shared with your marks had been like this, you would have been the one lying dead at the end of it all.

"Do you want to leave?" you asked once your lips had parted from his.

"Depends on where you want to go," he said, nose still brushing yours. "I'm not interested in going back to mine."

Of course not, you thought bitterly. Tifa might see.

Ego bruised, you decided to play the game.

"Who said we were going to anyone's place?" You hummed, your lashes lowered. "An alleyway might work just as well for what you have in mind."

Cloud's eyes darkened further at that.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Filthy sex in a back alley where anyone could see." He scoffed, pupils dilated. "Disgusting."

He went in for another kiss, and you stepped back.

"Who said anything about sex, either?" you teased, eyeing him up and down. "Just 'cause your usual crowd lets you take what you want doesn't mean I will. Not everyone wants Shinra’s sloppy seconds."

Cloud frowned.

"Don't fuck with me," he said, deadly serious. "I don't take that shit well."

At that, you softened. Perhaps that had been a bit too far. There was clearly some amount of bad blood between this particular SOLDIER and Shinra, and you had poked that bruise knowingly.

"I'm sorry," you said, sincere. "It was wrong of me to tease you."

You extended your hand.

"Come on. We'll go to my place."

For a moment, you didn't think he'd take it— but eventually, he placed his hand in your own and let you lead him away from Hell's Maw.

On your way out, you passed a few booths of familiar faces that turned their heads at the sight of the two of you leaving together— but just as you were starting to wonder if you'd made the right decision, Kitty caught your eye. The waitress gave you an all-knowing smile and winked.

It was the closest thing to a blessing that you were going to get.

Outside of a job or a hookup, Cloud was not often outside at night under the plate.

Now, in the awkward silence between himself and (Y/N), he had time to look and reflect. The combination of maintenance lights and the soft glow of energy throughout the plate itself was a poor imitation of a sky full of stars, but it was good enough in the absence of another alternative. It dimly lit the dusty, barren streets, casting everything in the greenish-gray of mako energy-fuelled lights; when he wasn't peering into suspicious shadows, Cloud caught glimpses of (Y/N) out of the corner of his eye, noting the way the unnatural light made her skin appear strange and foreign beneath it. Before now, he had not thought her skin to be so familiar that he would notice a difference.

Tonight was a remarkably bad idea.

"We're almost there," (Y/N) said to him, slowing her walk until she stopped to face him. She peered up at him with piercing eyes, and Cloud suddenly got the feeling that he was being tested.

"Something bothering you?" he ventured, resisting the urge to check over his shoulder for some unseen enemy.

"You could say that."

(Y/N) did not drop her gaze; Cloud refused to give her any ground by being the first to look away for the second time in the evening.

"Why are we here?" she asked him, her eyes throwing the light of the plate back to him in little glowing pinprick reflections. "I wasn't thinking earlier, not really— I let my baser instincts lead me this far. Before we go any further, I have to know what you're in this for."

An excellent question, that— it was one Cloud had asked himself a thousand times before he made the decision to show up at Hell's Maw.

I'm here ecause you drive me to distraction, he wanted to say. Because you're so beautiful, and so deadly, and I have wanted a taste of you since I first laid eyes on you. Because after meeting with you every week for months, moments with you feel like the only thing that's really mine in all the world.

Instead, he did not speak, not for a long time. Patiently, she watched him, staunch in her decision to remain where she was until he gave her an answer.

Because I want you is the answer he should have given, mostly because it was the truest one. The answer he gave was stupid and cowardly, and only true in the vaguest sense.

"To scratch an itch," he said. When she raised a brow, he added, "A deeper one than usual."

He hoped distantly that she could understand his reticence. He could not tell her what he felt without feeling foolish; he could not even acknowledge it to himself without feeling a traitor to the feelings he was expected to bear for others. Tonight, he could have chosen from dozens of women, and at least two of them were as dear to his heart as his very own flesh— but none of them were her. (Y/N) was beauty and grace and nightshade; she was the honey in every trap, the woman he wasn't supposed to want, but wanted carnally. She had no history with him, only the present, and yet he felt that she understood him like no one else ever had.

Don't be ashamed, she'd told him earlier, her gaze steady and strong like steel, her voice soft and gentle as silk. You are what they made you, but you survived. Never, ever be ashamed.

Cloud had spent so much of his time ashamed of everything. Ashamed of his roots, of his failures, of all the things he remembered, of all the things he didn't— and it was as if she had felt the badness in him, sensed it without him saying, and accepted it as a part of him. In her, there was no blind hero-worship, no transference of feelings from a risky rescue. No, she was simply the other side of his coin. She knew him because she was him.

"An itch," she repeated, and he felt as though she were flaying him open with her eyes.

"An itch," he replied, unable to say anything else.

She took a moment, considering. She must have found something within him worthy, because she gave a nod and walked on as though the conversation had never happened.

If someone had asked Cloud that night what her house had looked like, he could not have said. He would not have known the color if it had been neon orange with fireworks shooting out of the front of it; by the time he should have taken notice of it, he'd been thoroughly distracted with (Y/N)'s mouth on his own.

How that happened was a mystery also. One moment, he was walking along with her, slightly behind— the next, he was grabbing her arm, overcome with the desire to see her face once more, his heart somehow damaged by her uncharacteristic silence, and then he was kissing her because he could, because she let him, and because he was swiftly becoming utterly obsessed with the taste of her. It was filthy, deviant stuff, sucking on the length of her tongue, holding her to him by the very hair of her head; eventually, he decided that he wanted her closer still and simply lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist.

From there, he'd been operating mostly blind. She gave him directions, intimately familiar with her route home, and guided him even to the very last detail of how high he should lift his foot to make it up the front porch steps. If either of them had not been who they were, such a thing would likely have been impossible— but with an assassin's precision and a SOLDIER's grace and ability, they'd navigated the journey just fine.

At first, it seemed a shame and a nuisance that, even after they'd done so well getting there, (Y/N) insisted on opening the lock to her front door— but then Cloud got a magnificent view of her backside, and remembered that, as an ass man, it was practically his duty to come behind her and press himself against her with hungry neck-kisses as she fiddled with the lock. His cock, already half-hard, was infinitely pleased with the rocking motion he'd taken up, grinding against her ass; she, apparently, was also pleased as she pressed back against him, encouraging the friction with her own body as his teeth scraped over the lobe of her ear.

“Fuck,” she swore, her hands shaking as she finally managed to slide the key home, using it to turn the lock. “That feels good.”

Never one to let a compliment lead to complacently, Cloud licked a line up her neck, tasting her sweat and the bitter tang of her perfume; his tongue found the lobe of her ear once more, then delved into the cavity of it. (Y/N) shivered at the motion as the door fell away, and Cloud guided the both of them inside, kicking the door shut with a heavy boot.

Her home was smaller than he had expected. For some reason, Cloud had imagined her to live in a palace, or something close to it— certainly, the amount of money her jobs paid could keep her more than comfortably in one, if there was one to be found below the plate— but instead of great columns and outrageous interior decorating, Cloud found soft carpet, flourishing plants, and rows of bookshelves filled with knick-knacks and photographs. All in all, (Y/N)'s place just seemed sort of… normal.

"Bedroom's this way," she called out over her shoulder, smirking— but Cloud caught her arm, stopping her.

The idea of knowing the way she kept her room— the intimacy and implications of that knowledge—was too much to bear.

"Here's fine," he said, touching his nose to hers, then tilting his head. "Kiss me."

And boy, did she ever. Her hands threaded through his hair, pulled him to her; her tongue slid past his lips and he groaned into her mouth, cock jumping at her passion. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her pelvis to meet his own, grinding against her; to his surprise, he found his hands knocked away, replaced by her own on him, which began the process of unbuttoning and unzipping. Soon, his cock was free in her soft, graceful hands, and he couldn't even bring himself to be ashamed of the moan he gave as she spat into her hand and stroked him.

"I wanna suck you," she said breathlessly against his lips. "S'that okay with you?"

There was really only one answer to that.

"Fuck yeah," he replied.

He'd meant the words to be confident, even commanding— instead, they came out like a plea. Not that (Y/N) seemed to notice as she dropped to her knees before him, now eye-level with his gently-curving sex. No, he thought as she placed her hands on the crease of his thighs, playing teasingly in the fine dusting of hair there. She didn't seem to be bothered at all.

"You're a big boy," she said with a mischievous grin, her lips only a breath away from his cockhead. "I thought the sword might be over-compensation, but now I'm starting to rethink things a bit."

Cloud would be lying if he said that didn't stroke his ego just a little.

"Just shut up and get on with it," he said, heat rushing to his face. "You can't talk and suck dick too."

She began slowly, so slowly Cloud thought he might die. She kissed his thighs, his belly, leaving his cock untouched; then came teasing kitten licks to his tip, teasing him, delving into his slit to lap at precome. He bucked his hips at her, impatient, and (Y/N) looked up at him with a smirk and said,

"If you don't like how I do it, do it yourself."

So saying, she grabbed a large, gloved hand and placed it on the back of her head, giving him his cue as her mouth returned to his cock. Cloud, shocked, didn't know what to do with himself for a moment— but it didn't take long for him to figure it out. He held her head— so small in comparison to his hands— and fucked her face, shoving his cock into her mouth over and over again as she tried to keep up with her hands and her tongue. She was hot and wet around him, her throat smoothly textured as he fucked deeper and deeper. It felt good to take that kind of control, he noticed, to take his pleasure from her by force.

(Y/N) gagged a little as he thrust roughly, and he thought he might come on the spot.

Perhaps it felt a little too good.

Rougher than he meant to be, he pulled her back by the hair at the base of her skull, gripping the strands close to the scalp. She looked up at him then, teary, breathless, and smiling, and Cloud was struck at once by how ravaged she looked. Gone was the kitten that had teased him at the bar; gone was the confidante who had confronted him about his intentions. In her place was a woman of pleasures, a woman of fleshly desires. This (Y/N), he hardly knew.

"Open your mouth," he said, wiping saliva from the corner of her lips. She did so, sticking out her tongue— and without quite knowing why, he spat into her mouth. A thick glob of spit dropped from his mouth to hers, landing on her outstretched pink tongue; Cloud, feeling dizzy with want at the sight, leaned to seal it with a kiss. As he did so, she moaned against him, lacing her fingers in her hair, and he found himself pulled to the floor with her, his cock in her hand and her tongue in his mouth.

Piece by piece, he undressed her. First to go was her shirt, followed by her bra; ever greedy, Cloud moved to take off his gloves so that he could feel the soft skin of her breasts in his hands, but she stopped him, her eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Leave them on," she told him, placing his gloved hands on her body, just over her pretty, perfect, and probably sensitive nipples. "I like the texture."

And fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing Cloud had ever heard.

Next to go was her shorts. Made of tough black denim, they were hard to slide over the swell of her hips; thankfully, though, her painties came off with them in the struggle, leaving her sex bare and wet in the chilled air of her apartment. With that, she was finally, gloriously naked.

Except, of course, the gun that was strapped to her torso.

It was a mid-size blaster, whose thin holster and belt were nestled snugly against her skin. The gun and all that held it were a sexy matte black, and Cloud quirked a brow at (Y/N) in question.

"What, don't you know I'm always packing?" she teased him, leaning backward to unbuckle the belt that held the holster to her belly. To do so, she stretched her arms behind her back, arching so her tits were in his face, and Cloud was suddenly distracted.

With SOLDIER strength, he pulled (Y/N) to him by the hips. Sneaking one hand up her back, he leaned down to kiss between her breasts, then more to the right, until his mouth enclosed her nipple. Her moan was heady; without thinking about it, he moved the hand at her back to play with the other nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers, and she threw her head back, pressing into him.

"Yes," she pleaded, her hands tight in his hair, "Fuck, that feels good."

For good measure, he licked and sucked at her skin, leaving love-bites in his wake. Even though he knew he'd not see them, there would be some pride in knowing that they were there, a pleasant, aching reminder of this moment.

Cloud could have spent forever in the pillow of her breasts— but his cock was so hard that it was getting difficult to ignore the throbbing between his legs.

"Turn around," he said, unbuckling his shoulder guard. "I want to fuck you on your hands and knees."

It was a partial truth at best. While fucking (Y/N) from begind was a regular fantasy of his, there was an ulterior motive behind it. He wanted both of them to be naked, but he didn't want her to have to see his scars. They were many and jagged all across his body, from training, from fighting, from losing; up close, he sort of looked like a patchwork quilt. Not exactly pleasant to look at, in his opinion.

"Bossy," she fussed, but did as she was told. Soon, her knees were spread, her back arched to expose the wetness between her legs, and Cloud had never felt the need to undress so quickly before in all his life. It was fast, messy, and careless, but he was naked enough in under ten seconds to call it a win as he lined himself up with her entrance.

"Ready?" he asked her, pushing his self control to the limit.

Irritated, she slung her head over her shoulder and said, "Cloud Strife, it you don't put your dick inside me right now I swear to—"

She didn't get to finish her threat. She was choked off the moment his cock slid home, her entire body moving with the force of it. Enveloped in warm, wet heat, Cloud pulled fully out before pressing back in again, biting back a moan as he watched himself disappear inside her folds.

After another slow, lazy thrust, he leaned over so that his chest was touching her back and began fucking her in earnest; he never pulled out very far before he was pounding in and in and in—

"Cat got your tongue?" he murmured into her ear, wrapping one arm around her to gently lock her head next to his as he fucked her. "Usually you have so much to say."

All she said in response was a single, strangled moan.

After that, Cloud lost himself. For him, nothing existed except the act itself; the world extended only to the places their bodies touched, slick and sweaty and obscene. His lips and tongue were busy, kissing and sucking at her neck and licking the salt from her flesh. It took a while for him to realize that the low, growling sound he was hearing came from deep within his own chest, and even then he couldn't manage to muster any shame.

"M'close," he murmured in her ear, tasting the shell of it once more.

"Inside," was all she said, and that in itself was enough to send Cloud hurling over the edge.

He fucked her through his orgasm, only pulling away once he could bear the sensitivity no longer. Still half-mad with wanting, he moved (Y/N) bodily, intending to finish what he'd started with his mouth and fingers— but when he did, he found her shaking, with tears welling in her eyes.

Horrified, Cloud drew away. He hadn't realized he'd been so rough. He hadn't realized that she'd been reacting this way. He hadn't—

"Hey, don't get squeamish now," (Y/N) told him with a weak little smile that made him feel sick. "Calm down, drama queen— I just have a m-mako sensitivity."

"Mako sensitivity?" he parroted, his own voice sounding strangled even to himself.

She nodded and sat up, though it seemed an effort.

"You— You're a walking b-ball of mako energy," she explained. "With you inside me, and with— well, with—"

She faltered, but Cloud nodded. He could imagine perfectly well what she meant.

"You should have told me," he accused her, suddenly angry and very, very hurt. "I wouldn't have— you shouldn't have—"

All he could think of was mako poisoning, somehow his, somehow another's, how sick he'd been, how very close to death he'd come. He'd put her at risk of such a thing. He was a freak, and worse, a fool, for ever thinking he could have—

With slow, pained movements, she placed a hand on his arm.

"It's not like that," she said. "I— I didn't know. I could feel it, but I didn't think—"

She pitched forward suddenly, and Cloud moved to catch her.

"Easy," he told her, and she looked up at him with a small, weak smile.

"Gimme a second," she said as he steadied her. "I'll be right as rain after this."

She withdrew her hand and held it out for him to inspect. Sparks crackled between her fingers, and Cloud flinched backwards, instinctively defensive.

"You're not holding materia," he realized, dumbfounded. "What the hell is this?"

"Dunno," she replied, shrugging as though she'd just shown him a neat party trick and not a literal physical impossibility. "I've always been able to feel mako, and when I get overexposed, this happens."

"That's— that's impossible," he said, because it was.

(Y/N) merely shrugged looking at him with soft eyes.

"I didn't think it would happen with you. It's just sort of my secret. I get close to mako, get a little sick, and then I have to expel it like this or else it just doesn't get any better. It's… a gift and a curse."

Cloud just stared at her, amazed.

"With your permission, though," she continued, mischief glinting in her eyes, "I'd like to try something. Y'know, since we have this issue and all anyway."

Without really thinking, Cloud nodded, and then her hands were on him. The hair on his neck and arms raised as she dragged the pads of her fingers from the base of his neck to the end of his torso, the sensation of her touch unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The air tasted metallic, like ozone; when she stuck her fingers in his mouth, it was like licking a battery. Already, his cock was jumping, excited by her touch, and then she was kissing him, threading her electric hands through his hair. Overcome, Cloud wrapped his arms around her, feeling stupid and lust-drunk and so, so good.

"Touch me more," she told him, electricity popping in the spaces between her fingers. As he did, the popping increased, and he could feel the discharge of her power in the increasingly coppery taste of the air. Each breath was like a mouthful of blood; Cloud was willing to drown in it if it meant her hands would never leave his body.

"Lemme eat you out," he said, kissing the curve of her breast. "I owe you an orgasm."

She pulled back and raised a brow.

"After you made a mess down there?"

"S'the best part," he grumbled, a bit wounded— but before he could complain too much, he found himself pulled forward as (Y/N) leaned back. She hit the floor with a gentle thud, and Cloud seized the opportunity for what it was.

With careful and precise tongue, he tasted her. First, he lapped at her clit, relishing in the sounds she made, then made it a point to gather the semen that had mixed with her wetness, slurping obscenely as he cleaned her folds. Above him, (Y/N) groaned.

"Why is that so hot?" he heard her gasp as she leaned onto her elbows to watch him. "It should not be that— oh, fuck."

Cloud smirked against her sex and licked a long stripe upwards. With his mouth on her clit, he took a freshly un-gloved hand and began to finger her, curling the digits to reach the place that would make her arch her back and cry—

"Fuck!"

Hearing her swear had never been so erotic before now— but Cloud would be damned if that wasn't a sound he'd love to hear on loop forever.

Before long, she was close. He could feel it in the quivering of her thighs, the pulsing of her sex. He kept a steady rhythm, and then she was at her climax, falling hard with the rush of sensation and friendly, feel-good chemicals that left her limp and boneless beneath him.

Perfect for him to continue fucking, now that his cock was hard and leaking again.

"Round two?" he asked, scarcely daring to hope she'd be ready— but then she sat up with a smile and said,

"Hell yeah."

And so it was, over and over, until they were both spent, and Cloud passed the fuck out on her living room floor, satisfied.

When you woke, it was to an empty floor and no note. You were alone in the place where you'd had the most fantastic fuck of your life.

Some part of you had known it would be this way. You had only known him for a handful of months, but in that time, you'd learned that Cloud was an avoidant man by nature— and you were doubtless not the first of his hookups to end this way. Still, the idea that he could just leave after such intimacy was… distressing, for some reason.

Surprisingly, though, that feeling was easy to shake off once you left the dubious comfort of your floor and started planning your work for the week. Blond assholes who happen to give fantastic head amount to very little to a woman on a mission; you thought of him often, but the thoughts were small and benign, always curious and never of hurt or longing, as you had thought they might be. What had happened had simply happened, no more.

Then Mako Reactor 5 fell to terrorist attacks, and the week went to shit so fast that you got whiplash.

Before the reactor fell, you had considered not going to the bar that weekend. You didn't need an end-of-the week drink that badly; Cloud could take the hint and take a week off from the bar the next week and you'd never have to see each other again. After the reactor and your subsequent compromised mission, though? The devil himself could be in attendance that day and you'd sit in his lap and sell your soul for a drink.

So, on Friday, you headed to Hell's Maw as usual. There was a possibility, you knew, of some awkwardness if Cloud was there, but frankly, it wouldn't be the first time you'd avoided an ill-advised hookup in a bar before— surely you could survive this as well. It would just be some weird eye contact and then a little ignoring, and everything would be as good as new.

What you weren't expecting was for Cloud to be perched on your fucking seat again, early and apparently waiting for you.

"Oh boy," you said to no one in particular— and, as if SOLDIER had given him superior hearing as well as inhuman strength and durability, the bastard immediately looked over his shoulder and met your eyes over the Friday night crowd. On the other side of him, you noticed at least five empty glasses and a half-drunk sixth. They weren't water glasses, either. No, they were short, fat whiskey glasses, and, leaning halfway off of his stool, Cloud looked properly sloshed.

Really, there was only one respectable thing to do in a situation like this.

You turned on your heel and left, walking as fast as you could in the opposite direction.

Would that you could have been faster. You had barely gotten two sidewalk cracks away from the bar when a large, warm hand curled around your arm, stopping you.

"Cloud, get off me," you huffed, pulling your arm against his unbreakable grip.

"No," he said simply, and bodily turned you to face him. When he did, he used a bit too much of his strength, and you ended up nose-to-nose, sharing breath.

"If this is about the other night—"

Cloud didn't let you finish. He surged forward, sealing those words with a drunken, sloppy kiss that was somehow still as electric as your first. One of his gloved hands rested at the base of your skull, cradling your head, and the other wandered to your hip, pulling you close enough to feel the growing tent in his pants.

Heaven help you, but you weren't sure if you wanted to stop him.

"M'sorry," he said against your lips, pulling away only far enough to speak. "Didn't really mean to do that."

Then what did you mean? you wondered, but before you could ask, Cloud peeled himself away from you until the only thing connecting you was his hand resting on the junction of your neck and shoulder. The new distance, though slight, was jarring.

"M'sorry," he repeated. "I— we made a mistake."

Oh boy.

"Spare me the dramatics," you said, tired already. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Cloud. I wasn't expecting anything from you other than what I got."

"S'not that." Cloud averted his eyes, shameful, swaying. "I, uh. Shouldn't have put you in that position."

What, does he think I have carpet burn? You wondered, but then Cloud was looking at you with such raw vulnerability that you couldn't even crack a joke at his expense.

"I don't regret what we did last week," you told him gently. "I'm sorry if you do, but if this is out of some kind of misplaced honor—"

"I'm involved in things," he told you in a tight voice that felt as if he'd said them before. "Dangerous things."

If there was any relevance of that claim to their current situation, you certainly couldn't find it.

"You're a dangerous man," you shrugged. "It's one of your better qualities. I'm a dangerous woman myself, so I think that tracks, don't you?"

Cloud shook his head.

“It’s—” he sighed. “It’s complicated.”

If you had learned anything about Cloud, it was that ‘complicated’ was generally code for ‘Shinra’. From there, it didn’t take much to imagine exactly what he meant.

“The reactor,” you hazarded, heart filling with dread. “That was the job Tifa lined up for you. Holy shit, your girlfriend is a fucking eco-terrorist, what the hell—”

“— she is not my girlfriend—”

“Look, pal, that’s definitely not the part of that sentence we need to be focusing on right now.”

You reached out a hand, meaning to reach out and draw Cloud closer. Instead, as you moved forward, you were met with cold steel raised against your neck. Cloud’s eyes were wild with distress and distrust, but the set of his mouth was frozen with coldness that meant he would do what he felt necessary if you pushed him.

“Hey,” you said to him softly. “I’m not your enemy here.”

Slowly, you lifted her hands in surrender. Still uneasy, Cloud lowered his sword. As soon as it was clear of you, you stepped forward into his space, close enough that he could not bring the length of the sword between you. Cloud shifted, trying to move back to where he could use his sword if he needed to, but you stopped him with a hand to his forearm.

“Come home with me,” you said, brushing your thumb over the flesh of his arm. “You’re too drunk to be swinging that thing around, and if you want to talk, it’s best we do that in private. Okay?”

“M’not drunk,” he complained, but the look behind he gave you behind lowered lashes said he didn’t mind going home with you anyway. With swaying movement, he hefted the sword onto his back; once it was secure, he gestured for you to lead the way.

The trip to yours was short and uneventful. Once the door to your home was shut safely behind you, Cloud grabbed you once more, his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. His touch was warm and so, so tempting— but you gently pried yourself away. He was a wreck, and you weren't about to take advantage of that even if it was what you both wanted.

"Sit on the couch with me," you requested, grabbing his hand. "Let's talk."

As always, Cloud was resistant to the whole talking thing. Instead of poking and prodding, though, you took a different approach this time; you allowed the silence to creep and crawl between the two of you, swishing its tail like some irritated feline, letting it fester until Cloud was ready to bat it away and say what he had come to say. In the meantime, your hands stayed busy, touching, feeling, grounding the man before you. He relaxed into you, muscles loosening; he leaned until his head rested comfortably on your chest. The steady hum of mako buzzed in your head, lulling you almost to sleep— but then, just when you weren't expecting it, Cloud began to speak.

"I made an oath to someone, a long time ago. "

You pulled away enough to see his face, your mouth agape.

"You're married?"

"What? No!" Cloud made a face of horror and distress. "I— There's a lot of things I don't remember, okay?"

Your brows knit.

"So… you could be married."

"Oh, leave off of that, will you? I'm not married! I'd remember that if I was."

There was a note of hesitation in his voice that you didn't like.

"So, this oath," you said, touching the skin of his cheek. "What was it for?"

Cloud shrugged.

"I only have the vaguest notion. I don't remember the words. It's like— it's like the only way to keep it is to continue fighting, to be in this constant state of war— and yet, that feels wrong, too. It consumes me." He looked down at his hands. "It's like that oath is binding me to something bigger than myself… and as a result, I've gotten mixed up with some pretty dangerous stuff."

"Like?"

Cloud looked at you then, his eyes as heavy as they were beautiful.

"Like saving the world."

You did your damnedest not to laugh. It was a near thing, but you succeeded— if only by inches.

"So, let me get this straight… you're now an eco-terrorist because in a time you don't remember, you've taken an oath to save the planet?"

Cloud's jaw locked.

"It's bigger than that. Much bigger than that. Shinra is corrupt, they kill innocent people— and Shinra's not the only thing." He looked away. "I can't talk about it. It's dangerous. You could get hurt, and the more you know makes you a bigger target."

There it was again, that concern. It had been a long time since someone cared if you were hurt. You tried not to let it take away your objectivity.

"I assume Tifa knows?"

So maybe your objectivity was a little screwy. Sue about it.

Cloud grimaced.

"I don't like that any more than you do, but she chose this path a long time ago."

"And Aerith?"

Cloud shook his head.

"She's… insistent."

"So what am I, chopped liver?"

Cloud shook his head.

"This isn't your fight. You aren't involved like they are."

"And I don't have to be for you to tell me—"

"For fuck's sake, just let me keep you safe!" At close range, with his body pressed against yours, you could feel the vibration of his shouting as though it were your own. "Tifa and Aerith, they belong to this world, to this fight— but you belong to me!"

"I don't belong to anyone, hotshot—"

"Exactly!"

You blinked.

"I— I'm not sure I'm following."

A heavy, gloved hand rested on your cheek. You leaned into it, relishing in its warmth.

"Your soul is your own," Cloud said quietly. "You are the master, the possessor of your own self. You won't die for some cause, won't sacrifice yourself for the greater good. You'll survive. It's all you know how to do."

He tested his forehead against yours.

"I need that. I need you at Hell's Maw every Friday night, sitting in the same seat, drinking the same drink. I need you to talk to me like I'm nothing special, to show me your kindness and your sharpness."

He paused. You waited, teetering on the edge of anticipation, unable to know or even to guess what he would say next.

"And now— now that we've gone this far…" His hand drifted from your cheek to your neck, resting just above the curve of your breast. "I'm afraid of needing that too. I don't want you pulled into my world, and I don't want to need you so badly that—"

I don't want to need you so badly that I'm trapped.

You understood. It was possible that you understood better than anyone else ever could have.

"I get it."

He pulled away, but you didn't allow it. You caught him by the arm, bade him stay with gentle insistence. He allowed it, and you pulled him back to rest beside you, nose-to-nose.

"I know you, Cloud Strife," you said, summoning the words that had lodged themselves in your chest for so long. "You're like a wild animal. I cannot seek to own you… but if you come and eat from my hand, let me dress your wounds, and rest your head on my lap in times of trouble, I will count myself lucky to have someone so dear to me."

Hot pinpricks burned your eyes. How long have you waited to say something so true, so real? Why did it feel like a confession?

Cloud didn't seem to notice your distress— or, perhaps it was because he noticed your distress that he leaned forward, slowly, gently, and kissed you chastely on the mouth. You could taste the liquor on his lips; hungering for more, you deepened it, but Cloud kept a steady rhythm, holding you tenderly.

"Thank you," he said, pulling away.

"For what?" you laughed.

"For being here, for taking care of me. For not letting me wander home by myself, drunk and stupid."

"Of course." A smile stretched your face. "Any time."

The two of you stayed there for a long time, sharing breath, exchanging tender touches. Tomorrow, things might change— another reactor might blow, the plate might drop, or Cloud might use up the last of his nine lives— but tonight, nothing existed outside of your too-small couch. Tonight, he was yours, and that was all that mattered.

#cloud strife #cloud strife x reader #cloud x reader #cloud strife smut #FFVII #ffvii fanfiction #smut #fem!reader #assassin!reader

835 notes · View notes

genz420 · 17 days

Text

First Date Headcanons PT. 2 🎱 ❤️

Masterlist | Rules

Request: "Can you do one with Leo Valdez?"

Content: First Date Headcanons

Warning: None

Pairing(s): Character x Gn!reader

Character(s): Annabeth, Leo, Luke, Ethan

Annabeth Chase

A movie while painting

I mentioned before that I don’t think Annabeth is the type of person to sit down and watch TV/movies

I stand by that

That’s why I think the two of you would have a secondary activity while the movie plays

Like paint by numbers or some kind of shit

No sharing the painting, though

Because Annabeth likes to do her own thing and not share

She will slightly judge you for whatever you make or how you do it

But she doesn’t mean any harm and will not tell you

Doing a secondary activity also allows the two of you to talk

Because I think the first date is an important time to learn about a person

Even if you are already friends

Afterwards, she would keep whatever you make and keep it on her desk

To be reminded of you

Leo Valdez

A pool hall

I get the vibe that Leo would be really good at pool

Like he would make his own Cue because he loves the game and is really good at it

Obviously, he wouldn’t hustle you

Because it’s a date

But the next time you go together

Be ready to lose some money

But the first date is chill

Not a serious game being played

Could drink at least three cups of pop

Because he is nervous

Would be cracking jokes left and right

He wants to hear you laugh

To see you smile

If you are bad at pool or don’t even know how to play, he would get up behind you to show you

Whispering in your ear

Trying to make you blush

Luke Castellan

Strawberry picking

Not a lot of things to do around camp

Unlike strawberry picking in the mortal world, the sun wouldn’t be beating down on you

Luke would make sure that no one else is in the field as you two make your way down the rows of strawberries

Would try and feed you a strawberry

Saying that it will be the best thing you will ever taste

He is a smooth talker alright

Ethan Nakamura

Cards

Not uno or go fish

But like gin rummy or war

And even if you didn’t know the game

He would take his time and explain it to you

And if the two of you have a group of date with other people, then he would make the two of you team up against whoever you are playing with

Would have music lightly playing in the background

A playlist of his own music that he thinks you might like

I see Ethan listening to a wide range of artist

Like From Fleet Foxes to the Specials

And I think he would be a big Amy Winehouse fan

He likes upbeat and happy music because that makes him happy

Would have a few snacks like chips on the side

Big fan of salt and vinegar chips

#annabeth chase x reader #leo valdez x reader #luke castellan x reader #Ethan nakamura x reader #leo valdez x you #annabeth chase #luke castellan #ethan nakamura #pjo headcanon #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo headcanons #first date #percy jackson headcanon #percy jackson x reader

124 notes · View notes

drabblesandimagines · 1 year

Text

Sweet & Salty

I'm feeling a bit sad today so wanted some comfort... Sebastian x (afab) reader, Stardew Valley, Fluffity fluff Warnings: Mention of recreational drug use

It’s been a day. You’d sat down heavily on your porch steps, trying to keep the tears at bay. You should probably go mope in your bed, instead of staring at the land that is causing you so much distress. Despite your carefully placed scarecrow, you must’ve miscalculated the distance because the crows have still had a go at your most recent plantings and that’s hard-earned money down the drain - again. You’ve been here two months now and, surely, by now you should know better. The farm has been somewhat transformed since you arrived - a mass of weeds, stone and dead branches - but it’s nowhere near how you remember it in your grandpa’s heyday. He would’ve never made such a rudimentary error in his scarecrow placement.

Some of the fences around your crop patches have started to erode too – it won’t be long until they need replaced, but you’re trying to save up your wood supplies to put in a coop from Robyn. You desperately want to add chickens to the farm as eggs would be steady income – or at least you reckon – but you also don’t want them pecking at your crops alongside the crows, so having a fence seems important too. Your endless to-do list swirls around your head again. Why’s everything so hard?

It's not just your failings on the farm on your mind, but also your lack at making any real friends around here. Shane glared at you this morning as he headed off to work. That’s not unusual, despite your best efforts of a smile and a friendly greeting. Then Haley looked you up and down, judging your dirty dungarees. You’d only popped into town to get some seeds from Pierre’s. It didn’t make sense to get changed… Elliott is sweet but locked away in his cabin most of the time, Emily in her own little world… Sebastian, Sam and Abigail have invited you to play pool with them, but they’re such a tight-knit group and you always feel like you’re missing out on the joke, especially when you were partnered up with Sebastian. He’d been teaching you how to hold the cue correctly, leaning over you, his breath tickling your ear. Sam and Abigail kept nudging each other and whispering, but you couldn’t catch what about and it was clear Sebastian was becoming irritated. You’d begun to think they were making fun of your abysmal pool skills.

Ugh. Your emotions are a rollercoaster and the twisting pain in your stomach reminds you why – stupid period. It emerged with a vengeance this morning. It had stopped in your last months of JoJo Corp. There was no chance you were pregnant, your last intimate relationship fizzling out a year previously, though you’d taken tests just to be sure. The doctor in Zuzu City said you were stressed, burnt out… that it would return once you were feeling better in yourself. So why had it returned now, of all times? You feel more stressed and burnt out than ever before, regretting ever moving here. Why did you think you could become a farmer…?!

The barrier finally breaks and you let out a sob, hugging your knees.

To your shame, there’s a scuffing footstep and your heart stops as you look up, worried who’s seen your breakdown.

“Sebastian?” You sniff. You’re tempted to rub the tears from your cheeks but maybe he hasn’t noticed in the evening light. The black-haired man is standing there looking sheepish, a brown paper bag from Pierre’s clutched in his hands.

“Er, hey…” He’s not meeting your eyes. Poor boy probably wants to run. “Sorry, I… I was just leaving Sam’s and I didn’t want to go through town and see everyone, so I thought I’d take the scenic route back home through your farm…”

“Oh.” You mumble, waving him on. “That’s okay. Go ahead.”

He takes a step as if to go on his way, but then hesitates. “Are… Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you plaster a smile on, which you’re sure makes you look ridiculous as the stupid tears are still flowing. “I’m just being silly. Don’t let me keep you.”

He stares at you for a moment, before a sympathetic smile graces his lips. “You’re a terrible liar, you know?”

“I’m not ly- Ow!” You flinch as your stomach cramps terribly and you squeeze your arms around it, hoping in some way it might alleviate the pain.

Sebastian is suddenly at your side – the paper bag from Pierre’s dropped to the ground. He’s kneeling down on the first porch step with a frown on his face. “Whoa, are you hurt? I can get Harvey…” His hand hovers over your arm,

“No, honestly, I’m fine…” You try and wave him off again with one hand, the other arm still wrapped around your stomach.

He stares at you, a raised eyebrow. He seems to be putting the clues together – the wincing, clutching your stomach, the tears… He nods, making up his mind and gets to his feet, picking up the discarded bag from Pierre’s as he does so.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” He offers you his free hand.

“Thank you, but I’ll be okay. You get on home…”

“Farmer, I know I’m probably not the person you want to see right now, but let me help you out, okay? I can’t go home and just leave crying on your porch.” He waves his offered hand again. You look at Sebastian, hesitantly. He looks genuine, at least, but there’s something a little off about him tonight… Heck, you’ve already made a fool of yourself enough, so what’s one more thing?

This time you accept his hand and he easily pulls you to your feet and leads you up to your door. He opens it – you’d easily adapted to the habit of leaving the front door unlocked since moving to Pelican Valley.

You go to open your mouth, to tell Sebastian thank you, but he can go now. You’re inside, you’ll go to bed and pretend this never happened.

“Sit down.” He orders, pointing at your bed. “You like hot chocolate, right?” You wonder how he knows that, how he knows you have a stash. Had you mentioned it at the saloon before? “I’ll make you a cup.”

“But you don’t know where…”

“I’ll find it. Sit!” He pushes you gently towards the bed and you do sit, keeping a wary eye. To be honest, it is quite easy to find your cups and kettle. Robyn had advertised an extension to you but you don’t even want to think about the price and the materials needed. For now – perhaps even for the rest of your life - you’ve got a cupboard filled with crockery and silverware. The fire’s roaring away, you’re thankful you’d lit it earlier to try and make it cosy ahead of going to bed later on. The cabin always had a slight chill at night. Sebastian retrieves a mug and spoon, scooping the hot chocolate powder into the mug, fills the kettle with water from the jug you keep besides the cupboard, before taking it over to the fire to heat.

“Do you have a hot water bottle?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Huh?”

“Hot water bottle.” He enunciates.

“Y-yeah, I think it’s under my bed. Let me…” Before you can bend down, he drops to his knees and Sebastian is now crawling under the bedframe to retrieve it. You pull your legs up off the floor to the bed, not sure what to say.

He reverses back out, holding the fluffy hot water bottle in the air triumphantly, and gets back to his feet. “Finally, where do you keep the snacks?”

“I don’t have any. Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting to entertain.”

“Not for me,” a chuckle – it sounds a little odd coming from him - “..for you!”

“For me?” He’s acting so weird.

But he’s not listening, already rummaging around the brown bag from Pierre’s. He walks over to the sofa and empties the contents besides you – there’s a couple of packs of chips, cookies and candy. “Ta-da!”

You look at the assembled junk food and back up at the black-haired man, noticing his blood-shot eyes.

“You’re high.”

Sebastian laughs again, rubbing the back of his head. “Guilty. Is that a problem?”

“No, it just… explains a lot.” You wince again as the kettle on the fire whistles. Sebastian grabs the mitt you keep nearby for that exact purpose and places it on his hand, removing the kettle from the fire and placing it down on the hearth. Methodically, he pours some hot water in the hot water bottle, tightening the cap, before pouring some in in the cup he retrieved, stirring the hot chocolate powder until it dissolves. Once he seems happy with his work, he brings the two over to you on the bed.

“Okay, since you worked out my thing, it’s my turn. Time of the month, right?” He flops down next to you on the bed, ripping open a bag of chips. “My sympathies.” It feels surreal as he holds the bag towards you and you take a handful – maybe junk food would make you feel better, and the warmth of the hot water bottle is soothing too now against your sore tummy.

The only sound for a few moments is the rustle of the chip package and the crunching of said chips. You take a sip of hot chocolate, probably a weird combination at that moment in time, but it’s working.

“Sebastian…”

“Mm?” You’ve caught him with his mouth full.

“How are you so good at this?”

“Erm…” He swallows. “Well, I guess cos I have a sister and a mom… and a friend named Abigail.” He replies in a teasing tone. “Maru and Abi usually just get super pissy though. Mom’s the crier.” Sebastian leans forward and grabs the blanket off the end of your bed, throwing it over the both of your laps in a smooth motion. Who knew he could turn into a right chatterbox? “Wanna watch some TV?” He picks up the remote control and turns it on without waiting for a response, flipping through the channels. “Do you have a preference? Nothing deters Abi from horror, Mom and Maru go chick-flick mad…”

You burst into tears again.

“Whoa, okay, no TV! That’s fair too.”

“N-no, it’s n-not that.” You let out a shuddering breath. “Why are you being so nice?”

“Because we’re friends…?”

“No, everyone hates me here.” You know you’re being irrational now, but the floodgates have well and truly opened.

“Come on, you know that’s not exactly true.” His face looks serious now.

“It is. I don’t know what I was thinking – I worked in customer support, why did I think I could farm the land? I’m going to be broke by the end of winter if I lose another batch of crops and this town is so tight-knit that they’re never going to like me being here.”

“I like you being here.”

“No, you’re just saying that because you feel sorry for me.” You go to take another handful of chips, but he snatches the bag out of your reach indignantly.

“I am not.”

“You are.” You clip back.

Sebastian lets out a huff in frustration and he acts before he can even consider the consequences. He puts a hand on the side of your face, turning it slightly and presses a gentle kiss on your lips for a moment or two, immediately causing your tears to cease.

“Would I kiss you if I didn’t like you?”

“I…” You don’t have any words.

He swipes his tongue over his lips. “Mm, salty. That’s not how I expected our first kiss to go, I’ll be honest.”

“Our first kiss?” Your face is on fire. It has to be on fire, why else would it feel so hot?

“Yeah, well, I told you I like you, didn’t I?” He grins, before it drops. “Though I’ve just realized that you probably don’t like me like that, I’m high, and now I’ve made this a hundred times wor-…”

You cut him off, caressing his lips with your own for a moment.

“No. I like you too.”

“Well, that’s that settled, then, isn’t it?” He leans back, a smug look on his face before he grabs the packet of candy. “Shall we see what a sweet kiss tastes like next?”

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi I'm also running an event for x reader fics to celebrate 200 followers, so please check it out and send in your requests.

#ghostdogwrites #sdv sebastian x reader #sebastian stardew x reader #sdv x reader #sdv x farmer #sdv sebastian #sdv sebastian fluff #sdv sebastian x you #stardew sebastian x you #stardew valley fanfic #stardew imagines #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley x you

463 notes · View notes

hookedonhuge · 5 months

Text

A Hard Challenger to Beat

Wednesday night was men-only at the small country town bar. Living in a remote area could get awfully boring at times, but boy’s night was a highlight for most of the men’s weeks. There was truly nothing like blowing off some steam with your pals after a hard day’s work. No hassles, no consequences, just dudes having fun.

One of the main attractions on Wednesday nights was the Beat Billy pool challenge. The challenge was simple: play Billy in a game of pool, if you lose you have to give him ten dollars, and if you win then you get a special reward.

What was the special reward? If you saw Billy in action, it wouldn’t take long to find out. Every Wednesday night you could find Billy bent over the pool table lining up for a shot, with his big butt sticking out and his jeans, stuffed with ten dollar notes, looking like they’re about to split.

Yep, the special reward was an all-expense paid trip down to pound town (also known as the last stall in the men’s bathroom) with the one and only, Bubble Butt Billy. It was a shame that Billy was the best darn pool player in that town and the next town over.

It was a lucrative business for Billy, who never once had to surrender his pride to another man. However, it was speculated that the Beat Billy challenge was more profitable for the bar than it was for Billy himself. The challenge drew large crowds of pent-up men, some, who in their lustful delusions, thought themselves skilled or lucky enough to earn themselves some quality time with Billy’s behind, and others, who were more financially conscious, would instead egg on their pals to give the challenge a go just for the chance to see Billy bend over the pool table a couple more times.

Without a fault, each Wednesday night would bring to the bar a rowdy crowd, despite how predictable the events of the night were. Billy would pocket a nice amount spending money at the expense of his hopeful challengers, and the patrons would get their fair share of Bubble Butt Billy action. Billy barely had to try against his challengers and was eager to play a game of pool against an actually formidable opponent, and on one Wednesday night he got exactly that.

It was a Wednesday night that seemed to be going the same as every other Wednesday before it. Billy had just defeated yet another challenger and was counting ten dollar bills with his signature cocky smirk painted across his face. “Anyone else want to challenge me?” he said, teasing his audience by leaning his upper body ever so slightly over the pool table.

“I will.” An unfamiliar voice boomed from the back of the room. Billy turned around to size up the stranger. Billy, who was never short of words to belittle his upcoming challengers, was silent. It wasn’t the stranger’s face that left Billy at a loss for words; his eyes hadn’t even gotten up that far. Billy’s gaze was stuck on the bulging mass that was tenting the stranger’s tight jeans. For the first time in a long while Billy remembered the consequences of losing the challenge, his mind trapped in thoughts of how his virgin hole would fare if he lost this one time.

“My eyes are up here buddy,” the stranger said in a playful tone, strutting towards Billy with an irresistible swagger. “Just teasin’ ya. The name’s Rick,” he said warmly, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “I’d like to challenge you to a game of pool. I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem.”

Billy snapped out of his daze and shook Rick’s hand. “You’re new around here, so I’ll have to warn you not to get your hopes up,” Billy said, building up his confident facade again. “I haven’t even been trying tonight.”

“I expect nothing but your best.” Rick was unfazed. “I’ll let you break.”

Billy picked up his cue stick and the white ball as Rick set up the rest of the balls to break. As he had done a hundred times before, Billy got ready to begin play, lining his cue stick up to hit the white ball as his butt pointed out towards the leering spectators. Usually, Billy was so quick in his play that his opponent’s wouldn’t have time to register that the match had started. That night, Billy wasn’t so fast to start.

The cause of Billy’s delay was his opponent, who was standing on the opposite side of the table with his crotch directly in Billy’s line of sight. Rick’s hands were on his waist and he leaned just a little bit back to accentuate his large package.

“All bark and no bite,” Billy muttered under his breath. Billy struck the white ball, which jetted in the group of remaining balls causing them to scatter. Not a single ball had been potted into one of the holes, which was unusual for Billy.

It was Rick’s turn and he grabbed one of the cue sticks from the rack. He stroked the long wooden stick with his powerful hand lewdly under the guise of surveying its quality. “You know where I’m from, they call me Thick Stick Rick,” he said to Billy as he walked past him, meeting Billy’s gaze with a wink.

Rick quickly potted two balls in a row with ease, putting Billy on the back foot. Billy countered with his renowned precision. He potted three balls in quick succession and set himself up for an easy put away with a fourth.

The white ball had rolled to the centre of the large table meaning that Billy had to lean over extra far to reach it, causing his two large cheeks to stretch his jean fabric to its limit. Billy, who had been able to regain focus in the match, was about to sink his ball into one of the pockets when he felt something large and hard brush up against his crack. He turned around to see Rick towering over his lower half.

“Hey, you have to win first before you can have any of that,” Billy snapped, audibly annoyed.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” Rick said, feigning sincerity. “I just forget how big I am sometimes.”

Billy tried his best to brush off Rick’s comment and struck the white ball, but it clearly affected him as the ball he was aiming for, which was set up so well, bounced off the rim of the pocket and back towards the centre of the pool table. Billy swore under his breath; he never missed a shot like that.

“Don’t stress about it,” Rick said, placing his middle and index finger into one of the pockets. “These holes are so tight,” he wriggled his two fingers, “that these balls only just fit in.”

Rick’s innuendos had a marked effect on Billy, allowing Rick to even the scoreboard in spite of the vast difference in their skill levels. Each player now had one ball each to put away before they could go for the win by potting the eight ball. It was Billy’s turn and he was once again bent over the table, ass in the air, and lining up for a shot.

“Looking good Billy boy.” Rick chimed in as Billy was doing some practice shots in front of the white ball to check he had the right alignment.

“I don’t need you to help me with my alignment, I’m the expert… '' Billy trailed off as he realised Rick wasn’t commenting on his shot preparation. Instead, Rick’s eyes were glued to Billy’s famous butt.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just keeping my eyes on the prize,” Rick said, biting his bottom lip.

Billy tried to ignore Rick and went ahead with his shot. He managed to pot his final ball, but foolishly sunk the white ball as well. The crowd, who had fallen silent from the tension of the match, let out a gasp when Billy made this rare error.

Rick was able to sink his final ball as well, leaving the two in a race to pot the eight ball first for the win. Rick had no success on his first attempt as the eight ball was stuck in a tricky position. His comparative lack of experience showed as Rick was not careful enough to put the eight ball in a difficult position for his opponent to finish off.

All Billy needed to do was hit a straight shot from one end of the table to the other, which was easy for a player like himself. Rick, the schemer he was, was still not out of ideas. He moved himself behind the pocket Billy was planning to sink the eight ball into and started grinding his huge bulge against that corner pocket.

“How badly do you want to get into this hole, cause I want to get into this hole real bad,” Rick said with a slight grunt. Billy stayed silent. “It’s only a small hole Billy boy, it could be a real struggle to fit in.” Billy lined up his shot. “God Billy,” Rick’s voice turned low and rough as he took a step back from the table and squeezed his tightly wrapped manhood with his hand. “I’m a big boy, and I’m not even hard yet. You can’t even imagine the damage I could do to your bussy, or is that what you want? Have you been going easy on me on purpose Billy boy?”

Billy’s face was red from a mixture of anger and fear. He was sweating profusely and his hands were trembling. Billy drew his cue stick back then thrusted it forward with as much might as possible. The white ball rocketed into the eight ball which slammed into the pocket. In his desperation, Billy had struck the white ball far too hard and it followed the eight ball into the pocket.

Despair was the only thing that could describe Billy. Sinking the eight ball and fouling in the same shot was an automatic loss. The crowd knew this and roared with excitement. Thick Stick Rick was victorious.

Billy looked to the crowd, his eyes pleading for mercy. This was futile as the crowd, who had lost a lot of money over the years to Billy, were seeking retribution and Rick would deliver it.

“Rick! Rick! Thick Stick Rick!” the crowd chanted.

Rick approached the defeated Billy. “I ain’t gonna force you or nothin’ Billy boy, I ain’t like that,” Rick said, placing his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “But if you –”

“I’m a man of my word Rick. I couldn’t show my face in this town again if I didn’t go through with this.” Billy replied earnestly, not letting Rick finish.

“That’s the Bubble Butt Billy I’ve heard so much about. Now don’t you worry, Rick is gonna treat you real nice.” Rick gave Billy’s big butt a friendly smack.

The crowd’s chanting reached a climax as Billy and Rick walked into the men’s bathroom together. “Give ‘em hell Rick!” yelled a frenzied patron.

Soon, the bar fell into silence as the once raucous spectators listened suspensefully. At first there was no sound coming from the bathroom. After a little while a faint banging noise could be heard. It got louder and louder, until Billy’s moaning commenced. Billy reached a transcendent state, his shameless moans of pleasure filling up the bar and causing the pants of everyone in it to become a little more snug. Some opted to loosen their belts to relieve the pressure that was quickly building below.

“That son of a whore Billy is really enjoying this isn’t he?” commented one of the bargoers.

“Rick sure is a stallion!” remarked another.

“Billy won’t be able to walk properly for a week!”

“Don’t tell me Bubble Butt Billy lost on purpose!”

Rick and Billy’s erotic encounter culminated with a shared orgasmic roar that reverberated throughout the entire establishment. Rick, ever the gentlemen, offered to book a hotel room for the two of them for the night once he caught his breath back. All Billy could do was nod and collapse into Rick’s arms, his body completely exhausted.

“You’ve got a body that men like me dream about, Billy boy.” Rick kissed Billy on the forehand and proceeded to carry him out of the bar on his shoulders to a nearby hotel. There, Billy slept peacefully in Rick’s arms and Rick dozed off with his hands cupping Billy’s big cheeks.

#muscle butt #dump truck #gay fiction #gay story #gay bulge

148 notes · View notes

sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 6 months

Text

If You Got It, Haunt It

Curtis and Honey Halloween Special

Summary- 2.6k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. You and Curtis are out for a night at Paulie's playing a game of pool with Claude and Grey. It all starts with one little Halloween pun and some purple nurples.

Warnings- Smut. This is an 18+ Only Blog.

A/N- Happy Halloween everyone! My personal favorite holiday and I had to drop something to celebrate. I hope everyone finds something good today among all the mayhem our world has going on. Thank you all for all the comments, likes and shares you give this series. The puns were from a reel I saw on facebook and if I ever come across it here, I will be sure to link it because it was so silly and cute.

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

The pool balls clacked across the bars table while you stood nearby watching Curtis and Grey debate on where the balls would go. Claude stood at the other end, picking out pool cues for you and her.

Money sat on the edge, waiting for the future winner to lay claim. The bar was festively decorated all around, the usual music that Paulie played was now tuned in with some more halloween themed songs. You were waiting for Monster Mash to start playing, already having told Paulie you were gonna need a tray of Purple Nurple shots to be delivered per your and Claude’s request. A little homage to Dean Winchester as well as shooting some purple colored shots. Tis the season after all.

Curtis wandered over after it was all decided who was playing what ball, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in close. You sunk into his touch, cuddling in against him. “Mh mh MH.” You started, looking up at him. “I didn’t know my favorite Halloween treat came in life size.”

“Honey, I will be the monster you can mash.” Curtis immediately responded, a hand wandering to cup your ass, arching your hip to press against his while you hid your giggle in his chest. “You and Grey are stripes.” He rumbled, grumpy in the moment that Claude insisted on switching up the usual teams. “You over here looking all ‘come fuck me Curtis’ Pretty Girl is giving me some thoughts.” His nips on your mouth, tasting of his whiskey shots from earlier making you grin at the sensation, the warmth of his chest seeping through his hoodie and curling through you. You let your hands slide into the pouch at the front of his shirt, tugging Curtis in closer to you till he was wrapped all around you. “Babe, I must be a witch.” You let your nose rub against his before pulling back enough to see his expression, your grin wider with the upcoming joke you had for him.

“Really? Why’s that, 'cause you put a spell on me?” Curtis played along, his grumpy expression from earlier still a trace on his features, but he was starting to lighten up a bit more while flirting with you.

“I actually can raise your broomstick without even touching it.” You informed him, arching enough to press a kiss to his bristled cheek while he gave a huff of a laugh, you snorting in a giggle while he hugged you against him.

“Fuck.” He grunted, talking only loud enough for you to hear so his mouth was close to your ear, the bristles of his cheek a welcome sensation as they brushed against your jawline. “You really do have that kind of magic woman.”

Claude shouted over the table, making you and Curtis glance her way. “Curtis, remember you're on opposite teams. You can’t be over there flirting with the enemy.” She held up his pool cue. “And it’s your turn.”

“Then you’re in for some fucking bad luck Claude, 'cause I have no will power against my girl.” Curtis let his hand run along the curve of your ass one more time before pulling away and taking the cue from her, looking around the table for the best shot while Grey appeared behind Claude, catching her in his arms and making her yelp in surprise, the two of them fooling around with one another while Curtis aimed for a shot.

You admired Curtis, so reminiscent of the first time you two played pool when bumping into each other. It was even the same table, the two of you talking and getting to know each other while Curtis taught you how to play. That moment felt like a lifetime ago now, so much having happened between you and Curtis to get to this carefree moment shared with friends. The sound of Claude whooping in victory while Grey groaned had you breaking from your thoughts, giving a shrug of your shoulder to the group as if you weren’t at all worried while you approached the table and prepared to take your turn.

“Lucky shot Everett, now step aside.” Your hand pushed playfully against the wall of muscle that made up his chest, never really standing a chance at actually moving Curtis back a step but he purposely stumbled back like you did, giving you space to play.

“Yes Pretty Girl.” He muttered, making Claude shoot him a ‘don’t you dare look’ and he smirked in response. You set yourself closer to the table, leaning into the move with a sharp hit of the follow through and as soon as your shot was done, you felt Curtis’s hands fall to your waist and while you eased up, you were able to lean into his chest, watching the balls scatter once more, not making any shots but helping line up some for Grey to take when his chance came. “Good shot Pretty Girl.” He watched over your shoulder calculating which ones Claude should take.

“I'm happy with it.” You hummed out. “I sure as hell wasn’t going to be getting any at that time.”

They watched Claude and Grey play, the two of them doing their own game of flirting. You and Curtis stayed off to the side, losing interest in the game at this point.

“Pretty Girl, we should be werewolves for Halloween.”

“Oh really?” You turned in his hold to face him, the two of you wandering further away from the pool table, the halloween music thumping louder and although you knew Curtis wasn’t much for dancing unless the two of you were at the house, you started swaying to the music playing. “Why is that?”

His hands were flowing over your curves though, tracing you like he couldn't get enough of how you felt moving in his arms. “I bet we would have a howling good time together.”

You busted into laughter at this one, making him laugh too. Purple People Eater started playing over the speakers and you tilted your head back to listen to the song. “Paulie! Purple Nurples!” You shouted out. Claude danced over to you, grabbing your hands and pulling you into her arms, the two of you bouncing in a childish dance.

“Yeah, I got them!” He slid a tray across the counter towards Grey, who gathered up the bright purple shots to bring to the table you all had laid claim to earlier. Curtis took one and sniffed it, his nose wrinkling at the smell.

“Damn that smells sweet.” He handed you yours while waiting for the go ahead to take it.

“The grape jello, just be quick with it!” You tilted your head back and let it slide down your throat, Curtis doing the same. You reached over for two more, intent on finishing the tray before the song ended. “Hey Curtis, is it Halloween yet?”

He took the shot, not as enthusiastic as you, but he was willing to stomach the shot once more for you. “Just a couple more days, Pretty Girl and then you can take out those fangs again.” His blue eyes raked over you suggestively, his gaze dark and wanting with his suggestion.

“Good, Cause you can carve my pumpkins.” You grabbed his hands to lay them on your curvy ass cheeks, arching into his grasp as he squeezed his hands on you and gave a moan that bordered on getting turned on and exasperated at your last lame joke. A swift little swat to your ass made you wriggle against his hold all that much more.

“How long have you been saving that one Pretty Girl?”

“Since last week when I saw a tik tok video.” You admitted, tugging on his hoodie. The addition of the purple nurples made you warm and tingly all over in addition to the way you two had been throwing the suggestive touches and words all night. You must have been giving him a look cause the corner of his mouth lifted smirking, his mouth dropping to flush kisses along your jawline to your ear. “Backseat?”

“You wanna?”

“Pretty Girl…” His mouth pressed against the pulse point just behind your ear, eliciting a rushed breath as all those tingles and warmth blossomed in you, wanting, craving, needing more. “Always wanna.” His hand took yours, jerking his thumb over his shoulder when he turned to Grey and Claude in their own little world on the other side of the table, the pool game half played. “We’re stepping out for some air, meet back here in a bit?”

Grey nodded, raising his hand in a thumbs up. “See you guys in a bit.”

Claude, not quite caught up, raised a questioning brow in your direction but then when it clicked she mimicked Grey with a thumbs up. “Have fun!”

Before you could respond, Curtis had you weaving across the bar. The two of you rushing into the cool October night. Maybe the purple nurples were giving you some tipsy confidence but you pushed him against the bar's brick wall, his back thudding and he looked down at you in surprise for half a second before cupping the back of your neck and pulling you up enough to kiss you hungrily.

He tasted wild, a mix of alcohol and him, you ran your hands down his chest and grasped his belt to work the clasp off enough to push your hands into his jeans to rub at his cock through his boxers. Thick and throbbing already, he hissed against your lips while tilting his head back with a groan, his hold against the back of your neck falling to your waist, turning bruising in his lust. “Fuck Pretty Girl, don’t ever stop.”

“Don’t plan on it Curtis.” You cupped your palm around his length, squeezing just enough to bring him pleasure but not as far as you knew he would want it. Teasing him was fun and you were enjoying the power he gave you over him. But it didn’t last long as he pushed you back enough to continue back to the car, digging for your car keys out of his back pocket since he drove you two here tonight.

“Curtis… do you wanna play zombies?” You asked as you wrenched open the back door, falling back into the seat to pull yourself back, Curtis following inside to somehow get the door shut and hover over you.

“What?!” He asked distractedly as you worked your shirt off and he was as well. But he managed to catch up and shook his head. “No? Yes? Why?”

You giggled a bit, biting your lip as you snapped open the button of his jeans while looking up at him. “If you do then I will just lay here while you eat me.”

“Oh god Honey.” He laughed hard, his shoulders shaking and his forehead coming to lean against yours, looking in your eyes. “That one was my favorite tonight.” His mouth pressed to yours and you both started grinding against one another. Curtis eventually dragged his mouth from yours so you could catch your breath while following the column of your neck to your collarbone, sucking a nice little mark there while you arched under him, offering yourself to him. He worked your pants open, starting to drag them off while continuing down your body. This time leaving little bite marks after your zombie comment.

“Just like that.” You moaned while running your hands over his scalp and holding him to your chest after he tugged your bra up enough for your breasts to be free, your sensitive nipples aching pleasurably under his tongue, gasping happily when he dragged one into his mouth and pulled, making your legs wrap around his waist. “Curtis…” You arched again, your body feline rubbing against his now that you were practically bare under him, short of your pants hanging off one leg and your bra pushed up to be no longer practical on your chest. His hand braced against your back and he growled out. “Hold on Pretty Girl.”

You grabbed onto his shoulders while he maneuvered you both, him in a seated position in the middle of the back seat and you straddling his lap, mouths still chasing after each other. Curtis worked his cock out from his boxers, running his hand up and down his length while you prepared to wriggle off his lap so you could go down on him.

“Wat Honey…” He stopped you and tapped his hand against your ass. “Get up on your knees Pretty Girl.” You obliged, raising up and he ran a finger along the seam of your panties covering your cunt, sliding the slick fabric aside. “Did you know the human skeleton has 206 bones, Honey?”

You watched him mesmerized, his hand sliding up and down slowly on his impressive cock, whimpering with want and need as you felt yourself dripping on his fingers slipping between your folds. “I did… but I could take another.” You squeaked as he teased your clit, ready to start practically begging when he let the tip feed into your entrance.

“Good cause I plan on giving you another.” Curtis pressed you down onto him. You meant to laugh at this one, but instead it came out as a pleasured gasp, pressing your hands against his chest and grinding on him while adjusting to feeling him so deep inside.

“Shit…” You hissed out.

“Take your time, Pretty Girl.” He watched you with half hooded eyes, one hand resting against your waist and the other sliding up and down your folded thigh. “Fuck you are so beautiful just like this.” He praised, keeping still till you told him you were ready. But the way you were rubbing your clit against him and squeezing him, he just hoped you would be ready soon.

“Mmhh so deep.” You let yourself raise up and back down, finally feeling confident in it. “Okay, I'm ready.”

Letting Curtis go, he helped you ride him with constant praises, his hold helping you move up and down, rotating your hips which always felt so good your eyes would roll back, feeling every inch of Curtis pressed in you, full of him till you couldn't take anymore you were sure.

You both sped up, Curtis snapping himself into you while you slammed yourself harder down, once in a while one of you would seek out each others mouths for messy grunting kisses but it all got to be to much and Curtis hugged around you to bury his face into your chest with a curse, both of you rushing for orgasm and it was a slamming pleasure that sucked the air out of your lungs.

It wasn't till you collapsed against him that Curtis eased the two of you back, lounging in the back seat wrapped around each other comfortably. Your head laid on his chest and at some point Curtis did cover your back with one of your shirts to keep the outside chill slowly seeping into the car from making you cold. Your fingers traced his chest and went to fiddle with the chain. “How long have we been out here you think?”

Curtis hummed lazily as if he couldn’t be bothered to consider that they were in your backseat in a parking lot. “No clue, you ready to go back inside?”

“No, not really, I’m pretty comfy.” You said and the conversation went quiet for a moment.

“Honey, I got one more for you.” Curtis broke the silence and you didn't bother to lift your head, also to comfy in the moment to bother.

“Give it to me Curtis.”

“I think I already did.” You glanced up to see the smirk of pride. “Okay, will you let a demigorgon in our bedroom?”

“No.” You shifted in against him, sighing out a bit happily. “Why would I?”

“Awww come on Honey, we have done stranger things.” Curtis dropped his punch line. Both of you were silent for half a second till you both broke into laughter.

#life is short so make it sweet #curtis everett and honey #curtis everett and plus!sized reader #curtis everett x plus!sized reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett and you #curtis everett and reader #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett au #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes #halloween 2023 #halloween special #spooky time

61 notes · View notes

twst-trash · 2 years

Text

Maid for You [Part 2] - The Hand That Feeds

Prompt: A continuation of the Maid for You series. You tuck the extra thaumarks Leona gives you away for a rainy day. After all, what harm is there in keeping the extra money from all your hard work? Unfortunately for you, Azul does not take kindly to those who steal what is owed to him. Fortunately for him, your money and body are both forfeit.

Content: 18+ smut - AFAB!Reader. Azul/Jade/Floyd x Reader. Leona x Reader, implied 1st Year Gang x Reader. It’s a little funnier/ooc in the beginning to make up for the, uh, other activities in this one.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: most of the same as the last installment + degradation, mindbreak, gangbang, orgasm denial, dubcon. It’s depraved in this bitch.

Everyone is 18+ per my bio.

There’s an unmistakable frown plastered onto Azul’s face as he counts the money you had submitted to the tip pool. 800 thaumarks exactly? He thought he had made the goal as unattainable as possible, and yet, somehow, you had bested him once again. That’s what he was beginning to love and hate about you. Beneath your friendly and altruistic exterior, you had the capability to be just as cunning as he.

There’s no feasible way you could’ve made that much in a week, that’s for certain. Azul sets his glasses down onto the table and breathes a deep, calming breath. He’d figure out what happened, he assured himself, be it the death of him - or you, for that matter.

“So, the days of splitting tuna cans with Grim are over, huh?” Ace says teasingly, leaning over in an attempt to get a bite of your food. When you snatch it away from him, he pouts at you and huffs defiantly.

You roll your eyes, unenthusiastically holding out the bun for Ace to take a nibble. “Your days of mooching off of me certainly aren’t.”

Before he even says anything, you extend the same offer to Deuce, who happily takes a bite. You know that the poor boy would stay silent about it if you hadn’t let him eat some, too. He’s usually better about straight up stealing from you than Ace is, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to.

“How’s that going, anyway?” Deuce asks through his mouthful of curry bun. “It can’t be much worse than when Ace and I were roped into it.”

You bite your tongue, unwilling to tell them the truth about your unconventional money making tactics. Ace, Deuce, Jack, and the rest of your little first year gang had yet to see you at work, mostly due to your very vocal objections otherwise. You would die of embarrassment if they had the chance to see you in that outfit, and you know that you’d never hear the end of it from Ace.

“It’s… okay.” You say timidly, thinking back to your time with Leona and shifting your thighs together. More than okay, you think, but they don’t need to know about that.

Almost as if on cue, Jack jogs by, stopping in his tracks when he sees you all.

“Hey wolfie,” Ace grins. “We were just talking about how we’re going to ambush ____ at work.”

“Stop calling me that,” Jack sighs dejectedly, wiping sweat off his brow. He opens his mouth to say something else, but stops and skews his face. He sniffs the air, suddenly getting much more close to your face than you were used to. Your face flushes with an intense blush as he smells you once more, Ace and Deuce sitting by in horror.

“Sorry,” Jack coughs, pulled out of his trance. He straightens up and you can barely make out a dusty blush on his own face as he turns away from you. “You just smell- never mind. I’ve got to go.”

He jogs away again, at an even faster pace than before, leaving Ace and Deuce perplexed.

“I’m- uh- what?” Deuce sputters, unable to process what just happened.

Could he smell Leona on me? You think, mortified by those ramifications. Could he tell that we… You shoot up from your spot sitting next to the two of them.

“I forgot to feed Grim.” You quickly say, nearly breaking out into a full sprint on your way after Jack.

“They what?” Grim asks groggily, stirring from his sleep next to the two Heartslabyul first-years. Ace and Deuce could only give each other the same dumbfounded look as they watch you run away.

.•*•.•*•.

“You’ve been a great help,” Azul smiles, waving Floyd off of the Octavinelle student who had been working with you that night. “You’ll be greatly rewarded for this later, you know.”

The Octavinelle boy simply nods, scurrying off as Jade holds open the door for him to leave. Azul leans back in the chair behind his desk, a wave of relief and disgust washing over him as he digests the news of your little trick.

“So very clever…” He whispers, more to himself than to the two twins standing before him. He knew, of course, that dressing you in that slutty little uniform would increase business at the Monstro Lounge. It might’ve been a little self-indulgent, too, for Azul to be able to rake his eyes over your body without you thinking of it too much. He hadn’t thought that a certain second-prince would take such a liking to you, however, enough to take you in this very office. The fact that Leona got to you first stirs rage deep within him.

“I don’t like Sea Lion playing with our Shrimpy.” Floyd murmurs, his mood clearly shifting from the earlier satisfaction of squeezing information out of the unsuspecting Octavinelle student.

“I’m not so enthused, either.” Jade adds, examining Azul as he opens his safe of contracts. “What shall we do about the little thief?”

The contract in Azul’s hands glows, illuminating his face ominously.

“I’m always prepared.”

.•*•.•*•.

You don’t even know why you’re trying to catch up with Jack. He could run circles around you without even breaking a sweat. You’re not even quite sure what you’d say to him- “Yes, I did fuck your dorm leader. Yes, it will definitely happen again. Yes, I’ll do the same for you if you don’t tell Ace and Deuce.” is not quite the conversation you’d like to have at the current moment. Or ever.

As much as you’re sure that Jack won’t snitch on you- he’s much too shy about those sorts of things to even bring it up- there’s still a compulsion in you to explain the situation to him. Maybe it’s because of your still festering guilt for what you had done, but something inside you knows that you wouldn’t be opposed to it happening again.

You’re still running after Jack in vain when you feel a tugging sensation on the back of your head, causing you to stumble backwards. The force drags you, pulling you toward an unspecified location away from Jack. Your hands rush to your head, feeling a new slimy appendage at the top.

Oh.

.•*•.•*•.

You’re greeted by Azul’s dour expression once you unwillingly enter his office. Jade and Floyd stand next to Azul as he sits in his office chair, faces unchanging as they watch you get dragged to the very front of the desk. Azul doesn’t let you speak before waving the anemone off your head, causing you to sigh from the relief of pressure. Jade and Floyd are on you in an instant, however, each grabbing one of your arms before you could get a chance to flee.

“I’m quite sure you already know why you’re here.” Azul starts, watching as you squirm underneath the twin eels’ touch.

“I-I’m sorry!” You say, embarrassment evident in your voice. “But at least I got you the money, right?”

“Not quite.” Azul tuts, snapping open the contract before gently tracing along its contents. “Section 3, Article 2: Servers must only serve customers in their own sections to ensure a fair workload. Section 3, Article 4: Servers must report all tips to the tip pool to ensure an even distribution of wages.”

Azul rolls the contract back up with another flourish of his hand, leaning over the desk so he could get close to your face. “There’s no clause about taking another man into my office and sluttily spreading your legs for him, but perhaps we should amend that, hm?”

Your face burns with embarrassment as you hear Floyd chuckle.

“I didn’t know Shrimpy was so dirty.” He coos, his grip tightening on your arm.

“So cruel,” Azul continues, feigning disappointment. “Your benevolent persona is such a farce. Stealing- not only from me- but from your other servers. You should be ashamed.”

“How did you even know-“

“You underestimate my sources, dear Prefect.” Azul says through an unnerving smile. “Perhaps you’ll recall that you weren’t the only person working that night. He was more than happy to tell us what he saw.”

You can’t look up at Azul as your body is frozen in place by shame. You can barely feel your tears as they roll onto the ground, hot and heavy as they caress your cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” Jade says soothingly, “there’s nothing to cry about yet.”

Yet.

Azul finally approaches from behind the desk and cups your face in his hands. “Stop this. I’d hate to see such a pretty face wasted on tears.”

You can’t help but lean into his touch- the first tenderness that any of them had shown you since you walked in the office. Azul kisses your cheeks free of tears and you begin to melt.

“There’s nothing a little negotiation can’t fix,” Azul reassures, his knee nudging between your thighs. You can feel him pressing against your cunt, the friction enough to make you bite back a moan. “You’re property of the Monstro Lounge, after all.”

Jade and Floyd are quick to start undressing you, very uncaring of your new uniform, basically tearing off the fabric. Floyd licks a stripe up your neck, frowning when he realizes the marks leftover by Leona.

“Sea Lion shouldn’t be the only one able to have fun with you.” He mutters from behind you, hands moving up to squeeze your newly exposed breasts. His fingers pinch your nipples impatiently, grabbing them as if they’d disappear if he hadn’t.

Jade hums in agreement, beginning to nibble the other unoccupied side of your neck. You can feel his cock grow hard against your leg as he continues to bite and suck your neck- especially over spots where Leona had previously marked.

They prop you onto the desk, Jade and Floyd once again sequestering your arms, pinning them up against your head as Azul spreads your legs wide.

He tentatively, almost nervously, presses his fingers against your pussy, watching your wetness shine against the texture of his gloves. His glasses fog as he flattens his tongue against your pussy, peppering the inside of your thighs with kisses and nibbles between long strokes up and down your folds. You inhale a short breath of air in surprise as Azul sucks on your clit.

The pleasure makes you squirm, causing Floyd to pin your arm against the desk even harder.

“No moving, Shrimpy.” He grins down at you, “Not if you know what’s good for you.”

But you can’t help it as Azul continues to lap at your throbbing pussy, wishing to do nothing but grab his silver hair in bunches and ride his face until you cum. Azul is deliberate, though, pulling back whenever he feels your body teeter too close to the edge. He maintains eye contact, his cock straining against his pants as he watches you in your throes of bliss.

Floyd grumbles to himself, clearly getting impatient watching Azul being the only one to toy with your body. He opens the fly of his pants, uncaring to remove them at all, and bares his hard cock. He strokes his impressive length right in front of your face, willing you to wrap your lips around the pink tip.

“So cute, Shrimpy~” Floyd teases, watching you as you bob your head up and down on his cock.

Jade must’ve been getting restless too, as you feel the final set of hands around your wrists release you from their vice grip. Instead, you’re greeted by Jade’s hefty member resting in the palm of your hand.

Your wetness drips down your legs as you’re overstimulated to your breaking point, sucking Floyd’s cock while stroking Jade’s. Azul pulls away once more right as you feel yourself unraveling, eliciting a drawn out moan of protest around Floyd’s cock. Your legs tremble, unable to do much as the three men spoil your body.

“You’re funny if you think you’re cumming tonight, Prefect.” Jade rasps, cock pulsing at the sight of your mouth being ravished by his brother. “Floyd. Switch.”

Floyd groans aloud, but pulls his member from your mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’. Your hand wraps around him where your mouth once was, turning to give Jade’s cock a kiss before fully engulfing him once more.

Azul finally takes the opportunity to sheath himself inside of you, another whimper of pleasure escaping your lips. He thrusts up into you, sloppily, watching your eyes glaze over as you submit yourself completely to them. He relishes the feeling of your walls convulsing around him, already so sensitive and ready to do whatever they wanted you to do if it meant that they’d allow you to finally come undone.

“Stupid, silly Prefect.” Azul mumbles, thrusting to accentuate each word. “Thinking you could pull one over on us.”

“I hope you’ll learn your lesson,” Jade says with a wicked smile, a hand combing through your hair in a way that mimicked love. If you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend it was an affectionate gesture instead of the punishment it really was.

In the end, you’re completely spent, covered in all three men’s cum twice or thrice over- you’ve lost count- with your pussy still throbbing, painstakingly untaken care of. You’re left with a trail of drool leaking from your mouth onto your breasts and thighs covered in a sinful mixture of all four of your juices. It’s torturous, unable to get yourself off even as your three partners clean themselves up in fear that they’ll catch you and punish you once more.

“We’ve come to the unanimous decision to extend your contract indefinitely.” Azul says, coming to give you a cruel kiss. “I trust that you’ll make sure to report all of your acquired funds to us next time.”

You nod, trying to catch your breath as Azul tosses you your work uniform.

“The lounge opens in 30 minutes. Do try not to be late.”

.•*•.•*•.

Alt title: Azul’s Desk Has Seen Some Shit

I’m really liking this verse so far! Let me know if you’d be interested in more. It’s my first time writing so many people fucking at the same time, so please excuse me if it seems a little sloppy 🫣

#twst smut #twst imagines #azul x reader #floyd x reader #jade x reader #twisted wonderland smut #maid!verse

1K notes · View notes

qiaipia · 9 months

Text

Somebody Tied You to an Ant Pile — miguel o’hara

ミ★ a Bullet fic on being in Highschool with a Miguel O’HottieHara

ミCONTENT: miguel o’hara x afab! reader. childhood friends to lovers. nerd/popular trope. messing around (r16). Inspired by blueastriz’s work on TT.

read this as if i was a friend barging in ur inbox for a fic idea lmao. don’t take the formatting too srsly!

The cicadas rang their symphony in the hot summer air. It was time to part ways.

“You’ll text right?” An 11-year old Miguel O’Hara pouts, beside you on the swing. The sun was setting. A chapter was now closing.

You laugh, excited about the new adventure that came with moving homes, but you give him your biggest comforting smile. “Of course! You’re my best friend Miggy, we’ll even talk all night if you want to!”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, pout still evident.

You outstretch your hand, and he hands his over, interlacing each other. Stubby and sweaty children hands.

You gave his soft palms a gentle squeeze. “I promise. Nothing’s going to get in between us.” Your eyes beamed with hope.

Miguel gave a small smile and nods. “I’ll ask mama to buy me a phone.”

- But that was 5 years ago and well, times have changed.

- But now you’re in Highschool as a popular kid!!

- Mostly because you hung out with the mean girls

- names? Stacy and Jane lmao

- You though? you’re Nice, buuuutt you were also a bystander. Kid getting bullied? Not exactly your problem.

- But when it mattered you spoke your mind and had a rbf so everyone stays away from your clique

- You and Miguel go waaaayy back

- Before you moved you were neighbors!

- You and Miguel are childhood best friends

- First grade at ur old school some bullies tied you and Miguel to an antpile

- You two were bonded ever since over red ant bites and swollen faces

- Playing games together with the O’Hara brothers

- Pulling stunts on his younger brother Gabri

- Making messes everywhere

- And blaming Gabri lol

- U guys were together EVERYDAY practically inseparable by the 6th grade. Never one without the other

- Then you moved u tried keeping contact but life kept u both busy, u guys just eventually stopped talking

- Cue 10th grade! There is a new transfer student

- U usually dont care, so u went a while without noticing this transferee

- Then you saw someone getting picked on at lunch

- U were studying the kid from afar - Jane saw u staring and teased u for it

- Said his name was Miguel O’Hara. The newbie

- “He’ll adapt soon enough.”

- DUH u remembered Miguel. He was ur grade school crush. And with his dorky glasses and thin frame, you STILL thought he was cute

- U wait for him out of his AP Science class

- U creep behind him as he rummages through his locker and u shove him to get his attention

- He was annoyed doe, “Ay mierda, you piece of shits took all my lunch money, I have nothing more-“

- You grab hold of his shoulders and turn him around with the biggest grin on ur face lol

- He is light as a feather and u were the same height lmao

- He squints at you. “y/n?”

- “Hola Miggy.” You laugh.

- He is Shookt!! U went HERE?!?!

- U guys catch up going home, it was getting dark! U tease him abt the glasses, he teases u that ur a popular girl now

- He is surprised,, to see u have such a big house now WOW ok

- Ur family moved because ur dad got a better job offer and made much much more in the business

- U invite him in, he says his bro is waiting for him. U miss Gabri!!

- He is shookt when u say u have a pool PLS. U promise to invite him over next time

- Gabri teases him ALL NIGHT LONG abt u, ur Miguel’s his gradeschool crush too, now he’s just happy to get back his friend

- The next time someone bullies Miguel in front of u, its a jock who likes u, and u dont say much, so people are surprised u defend this nerdy new guy

- “Pick on someone your own size Archie. You get off hurting people smaller than you?” You call out from your seat on the table.

- Stacy backs you up. “Maybe he’s compensating for something.” She snickers. You make a puking sound. Everyone laughs.

- Archie is embarrassed and leaves.

- You flash Miguel a wink. He has to laugh. You stood up for him.

- Honestly, you guys don’t really interact at school. It was like teenage pride abt different social statuses and whatnot. You knew it would be bad for you and Miguel if you guys were seen together.

- but u always wait for him on the days he has AP classes.

- In return he walks you home.

- You both catch up.

- Remember times like when you were both in grade-school, like the time his pants fell down while he was on the jungle gym. Or how you made a stupid amount of pastillas with him and had a sugar rush for days.

- How your parents were now getting a divorce, and how yesterday he caught Gabri smoking Camels

- Your girl friends have caught on. They wanna know the guy you were seeing.

- You had a stupid smile on your face all the time, of course it was a boy.

- You couldn’t tell them of course, its social suicide

- Once he came out of the AP Class early, you were confused

- He said classes were cancelled

- It was too early to go home, but it was too late to stay in school

- He mentions that Gabri was at a friends house and that the house was empty

- “Let’s get home before your mom does, yeah?” You say shakily, with a grin - You both obviously knew where this was going.

- You both rushed to his house, nervous and clammy

- “Is this your first time?” You ask with a nervous bite on your lips. “Yeah, yours?” He says, awkward fitting jeans doing nothing to hide pre-pubescent down there emotions.

- “Mine too.” You mention nervously. “You’re shitting me.”

- “Don’t laugh!” You squeal throwing a pillow at him.

- You didn’t know much about your body yet, and neither did Miguel, but his brown eyes were so captivating as he shuffled on top of you, sans glasses

- It’s a normal thing now lol

- Miguel actually ditches AP classes to mess around wit u

- Esp with Gabri being out all the time

- down bad fr

- But it sort of goes like u need help also with homework after,,

- So u learn??? because Miggy is such a smart cookie

- U ACTUALLY LEARN

- U learn each others bodies too atp so thats cute!!

- It shows in ur grades lol

- By then he is literally the only one ur messing around with

- But this one time: you both fall asleep after particularly tiring time alone

- Sleep UNTIL DARK

- Conchata’s knock wakes u both tf UP

- It’s impossible to hide u so u both settle for messily dressed and “We’re doing homework.”

- She doesn’t remember u at Miguel’s insistence lol

- You awkwardly leave the house because she is NOT happy her son is bringing a girl home behind her back. Under the roof she pays for?!?!

- “Do you even use protection mijo?” “…” “AY POR DIOS MIGUEL”

- And well, now he gotta text his mom when u come over and Gabri gotta be there too

- Gabri loves having u around, he geeks out with ur secret obsessions of comic books! It’s not really popular among your friend group, but you got really into it last year

- Conchata doesn’t really approve of her son hanging out with a girl but “Ma I’m tutoring her.” And she rolls her eyes

- You see it’s tense between mother and eldest son

- You put a hand over Miguel’s after a harsh fight. “But you still love your mom don’t you?”

- His eyes soften.

- You have definitely pulled Miguel under the bleachers to make out once or twice

- And you definitely have dragged him to empty supply closets lol

- He’s down bad and a pretty girl just asked to blow him so is his 16 year old self gonna say no?

- Fuck no.

- You can’t keep ur hands to yourself lol

- Plus you can see Miguel is slowly but sure changing. You gotta tiptoe now to kiss him WHAT

- He also stares a LOT it gets you self conscious but he assures you your the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Followed by cupping your breasts and going “Have they always been this big?” Followed by you elbowing him

- And who says sex ruins friendships?? It doesn’t! You and Miguel are closer than ever because of it

- You know what does though?

- Love.

- And you found that out when you cried yourself to sleep when Miguel said he was asked out by a girl to hang out in his AP Class

- He said yes to her and he’ll hang out with you soon

- But it’s always the same girl with him

- Talking to him in class, during lunch, before, during and after AP Classes

- Eventually he was halving his time with you and with her

- They match well together, him and Xina Kwan. She was crazy smart and the same social status as him too.

- She was sweet and smart and you have been avoiding Miguel like the plague in hopes it won’t wake up the vicious green monster

- DAMN you were crying, mascara all over your face.

- It was the last day of school too urgh poor u. You wipe your tears as you wash you face on the school bathroom sink

- Miguel had enough of u ignoring him tho so he walks up to you

- While you were with ALL your popular friends around ur locker

- And he asks if you wanted to walk home together

- He wasn’t really thinking, he just didn’t want u to avoid him anymore

- You gave him a horrified look and ran away

- And everyone laughed at poor heartbroken Miguel O’Hara

If this works out I’ll put out a fic for it. Hmu with thoughts!!

again, read this as if i was a friend barging in ur inbox for a fic idea lmao

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #atsv #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099: atsv #spiderman 2099 #+MYWORK+#miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderverse x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o hara #spiderverse x y/n

143 notes · View notes

rindecisions · 10 months

Text

Take Your Shot

(My first ever drabble so I hope I did this right)

Written for @steddiemicrofic

Prompt: Pool Word count: 442 Rating: Teen

“Boom!” Eddie called from the corner of the bar as he beat his third challenger in a row at pool. “Fork it over!” he demanded with a proud grin, animatedly taking the cash he'd earned.

Steve rolled his eyes at the spectacle from his former classmate.

“Got a problem, Harrington?” Eddie asked, catching Steve's exasperated expression.

“Why would I?” he groaned, avoiding Eddie's eye and finishing off his drink.

Eddie pursed his grin and tucked the stack of cash in his wallet as he skipped over to Steve at the bar. “Wanna take a shot at me yourself?”

Steve heavily sighed and stared at his empty cup, wishing for it to refill. He didn't really hate Eddie or anything, but his excitement was a little over the top at times.

“Come on, I hear you're pretty good,” he egged Steve on with a gentle elbow to his side. “I could use a challenge.”

In deep thought, Steve spun the empty cup in his hand, debating Eddie's offer. “Fine,” Steve sighed. “But I don't need your money. Let's bet for different stakes.”

Eddie's smile widened, and he crossed his arms. “I'm all ears, Harrington.”

Steve pursed his lips in thought. “I'll tell you when I win.”

“When?” Eddie said, impressed. “Confident much?” He sat heavily on the stool next to Steve, squinting. “Let me get this straight. I have to agree to this bet without knowing the stakes and just give you whatever you want if you win?”

“Yeah,” Steve smirked. “That about sums it up.”

With an amused nod, Eddie pulled at his lip with his teeth. “But Harrington, are you brave enough to do the same?”

Steve's smirk twitched wider. “Best 2 of 3?”

“For something like this, let's go best 3 of 5.”

They shook on it and walked over to the pool table. Their skill was evenly matched, and they managed the full 5 game roster, even gathering a small crowd by the last game. Steve could feel Eddie's eyes boring into him the whole time and was surprised at how much he was enjoying Eddie's company. He’d never really given him the time of day, but the man was entertaining, to say the least.

Eddie knocked the last ball into its pocket and cheered triumphantly.

Steve sighed and put his cue up. “So, what's my damage?”

Eddie leaned against the pool table and beckoned him over with a finger. Steve furrowed his brow and walked over to him.

The smile on Eddie's face widened. “Closer.”

Steve's furrow deepened as he did as asked, gasping when Eddie pulled his arm and locked their mouths together in a firm kiss.

More fics by Rindecision

#steddiemicroficjuly #steddie #steddie drabble #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddiemicrofic #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things #lgbtq #gay #steve/eddie

74 notes · View notes

goosewithtwoos · 2 years

Note

Rooster x female reader

I’m not sure if you take requests if not please feel free t ignore this

You were mavericks little girl and best friends with rooster sense what seemed like forever not knowing he had secret feelings for you but didn’t say anything because you were His dads best friends daughter,but he couldn’t help when everyone was at the bar and hangman was teasing you at pool and for the first time you let anger slip and used the pool stick to being hangman to his knees and held his chin up with the stick.

“You think your mother would be very proud of the man she raised talking like that”

Frothing at the mouth, let’s go :0 also i have no idea if you wanted some seccy moment but i wrote seccy anyways. dip out at any point bby

PUNK TACTICS

Cheers erupted from the crowd as Penny rang the ‘Free Round’ bell.

Some idiotic soul had insulted Phoenix who was out of uniform, saying that he could probably score better on the ASVAB.

You were standing with the other Top Gun graduates, hanging around the pool table, beer bottles scattered nearby. You probably didn’t need another round, but hell, if someone else was paying, you’d take a free drink.

Rooster stood, watching more than actually playing. He leaned his chin on the pool cue, aviators falling down to the bridge of his nose. His eyes flit between the action on the table and you.

Phoenix made her way back over, rolling her eyes at the wolf whistles but carried drinks in hand. She handed one to Bob who, bless him, was still nursing his first beer.

She passed another to Coyote and made an attempt to give one to Rooster, but he politely declined.

Phoenix raised a brow at him. It wasn’t often that Rooster declined a drink.

“I’m D.D tonight.” He explained. “Someone has to make sure she gets home safe.” He motioned towards you.

You would alternate between being designated drivers for each other for as long as you could remember. Whoever was driver would take the other home and make sure to set up a nice little array of advil and water so the following morning hangover would be lessened.

You and Rooster used to sleep over at each other’s houses - solely for the purpose of ‘if anything went wrong’ - but the amount of sleepovers seemed to have diminished as of late.

Phoenix just shrugged at Rooster, took a sip from her own bottle, and then handed you the one meant for Bradley.

He smiled, lop sided, as you took a sip. Your eyes were laser focused on the table, watching how Hangman was playing and trying to figure out the best way to screw him over.

Hangman hit two shots in a row, basking in the glory from Fanboy who was seemingly always hyping him up.

“Your turn, Mini-Mav.” He said to you, eyes glinting with the excitement of the game.

You had a call sign but no one from Top Gun used it. Ever since it was discovered that you were the daughter of Maverick, you became ‘Mini-Mav’.

It bothered you at first. You were your own person, damn it, not just your fathers daughter, but it eventually grew on you.

Your eyes found Rooster, who gave you a slight nod as encouragement, and lined up your shot. Your heart inexplicably began to quicken its pace but you attributed it to the game.

Your cue tapped the table lightly and Hangman whistled, low and slow. “My move.”

You groaned, righting yourself and smacking the end of your cue on the floor. “Come on,” you groan. “Are you serious?”

Hangman just shrugged and went to line up his shot.

“Rules are rules.” He said cooly. He hit another perfect shot and you wanted to tap out right then and there but knew you couldn’t. You had put money on this stupid game and were determined not to lose.

Hangman stood back up, moving around the table to get another shot. Rooster’s and Hangman’s eyes met, the two men trying to burn each other.

Neither was blind. You were undeniably attractive and both men were fighting for you. Rooster said he had claim, he’d known you forever, but Hangman swore he’d get you in the end. This game was going to determine winner.

As Hangman prepared for a shot, he made sure to get right in front of Rooster, successfully hitting him in the abdomen when he shot another round.

Rooster pressed his lips firmly together, trying not to show any sort of discomfort.

“Oh, sorry bud. Didn’t see you there.” Hangman said, turning and grinning. Your eyes darkened. No one was allowed to insult Bradley except for you. Making fun of him was your job.

Hangman looked towards you and noticed the way your expression had changed. “All right there, Mini?”

“Dandy, Bagman.” You grit out.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking but seeing Hangman hit Rooster was really rubbing you the wrong way. You had to make this game count.

You focused on each shot, hitting four in a row. No one spoke as you sunk the last ball, seemingly all holding their breath.

Hangman looked both angry and impressed but Rooster was smitten.

The look of determination across your face, they way your arms flexed in your black tee, all mixed with the fact that he was taking you home tonight left him with a dull ache.

He had to stop himself from staring by turning to Bob and joining the conversation with Phoenix.

You went to make another move but Hangman’s voice stopped you.

“Didn’t think you’d be this good, Mini.” He said, making a crude gesture with his pool cue, the double implication not lost to you.

You whipped your head around, ready to hit him. “Would you shut up for once in your goddamn life?”

Phoenix, Rooster and Bob all stopped and turned. Fanboy was stepping behind Hangman, ready to back him up in anything.

“Struck a nerve there, didn’t I? Never took you for a prude. Kinda thought you were like your daddy.” Hangman’s eyes danced between you and Penny who was smiling behind the bar, none the wiser of what had just been said.

That was it.

You struck Hangman in the chest with the end of your cue, sending him back and hunched over. A look of shock crossed his face but before he could stand back up, your cue was under his chin, forcing him to look at you.

“You think your mother would be proud of the man she raised talking like that?” You growled.

Fanboy grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him back up. Both men were looking at you, shock in their eyes. You’d never lost your temper like this before.

Rooster was behind you in an instant, pressing a hand against your back. Phoenix was on your left, ready for a fight.

Penny had looked over but knew it was best to leave the group alone until it really turned physical.

“Jeez, doll, didn’t think you’d react like that.” He rubbed over the spot in his chest, holding back the whine in his throat.

“How’d you think I’d take it? You expect me to be okay with you making fun of my family?”

Something flashed across Hangman’s face. He wasn’t going to let you have the last word.

“I expected you to go crying to Goose - ah whoops, I mean Rooster.”

You lunged at Hangman, ready to swing a beautiful right hook but Phoenix had grabbed you, holding you back. Rooster was much too surprised to do anything and contemplated if he should tell Phoenix to let you go.

“I bet your taking the right piss there, aren’t you?” You yelled at him. Hangman was taking steps back, Fanboy going to stand between you two. “Or is it left, huh? I bet even in the tightest boxers, it’s so small you can’t even see which way it curves!”

You slipped from Phoenix’s grip but got caught by Rooster.

“Come on,” he said, picking you up from under the arms and dragging you across the bar. Penny’s eyes were on you, concerned. She shook her head slowly and watched as you got pulled through the crowd. “We’re going home.”

Once in the parking lot, Rooster set you down. You tried to run back in but he stood in front of you, body blocking.

“Just one swing!” You cried, trying to get past him.

He grabbed you again, holding you by the arms. His eyes bore down to yours, trying to get you to calm down.

“Take a deep breath.” He said.

You tried to do as told but remembering what Hangman had said - calling Rooster by his dad’s call sign - chocked you up again.

“Just forget about him. He’s stupid. You’re the biggest prude I know.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

You dropped your head. You didn’t want him to see the tears welling in your eyes. It was a nasty habit of yours to cry whenever you got mad and you hated when Rooster saw your tears.

“It’s not what he said about me.” You admitted, feeling a tear slip down. “It’s what he said to you.”

Roosters grip on you lessened. His breath hitched as he took in what you said. He knew you both cared for each other but watching you try to fight for his honor left his heart aching.

“Look at me.” He muttered. It wasn’t a command and more of a question.

Your head turned up, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. Your eyes were a bit red but thankfully you weren’t crying anymore.

His thumb wiped under your eye, picking up a trace tear that hadn’t fallen just yet.

“You don’t have to fight for me.” He said, heart beat racing. “I’m a big enough boy to fight my own battles.”

You finally met his eyes and you wanted to cry again. Something inside you switched when you looked at him.

You had known for a while that you loved him but you couldn’t tell what kind. Sure, you had grown up with him but that didn’t stop you from thinking of him in a few different ways. He was obviously handsome but he also was your best friend. He knew more about you than anyone else and when you had your heart broken for the first time, he was the first person you ran to.

Bradley held a special place in your heart that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

“I know you are,” You whimpered out. “but he’s not allowed to say that to you.” You felt a bit childish but continued. “I’m the only one who’s allowed to make fun of you. You’re mine.”

The words were out before you could think hard enough to stop them.

They could be innocent but the two of you knew they weren’t. You were each other’s person. No one else could compete with the way you completed each other.

Your face flushed and it wasn’t from the beer. Roosters eyes searched your face, trying to figure out if he had understood you properly.

Your lip trembled again, embarrassment setting in.

Was he going to leave you here, alone on the porch of the Hard Deck? Assuredly not, since he was the one driving you home and your dad would have Roosters balls as a coin purse if he found out you were left alone at night. But now that meant you were going to have to sit in silence on the way home and then pretend everything was okay next time you ran drills together.

Rooster swallowed deeply and nodded. “I’m yours.”

He dipped down, pressing your lips together. You had no hesitation when you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

It felt like everything fell into place. Finally, you had the boy of your dreams right where you wanted him and it felt so good to have him want you back.

His mustache tickled your upper lip. You smiled at the feeling, excitement bubbling in your chest.

He pulled back for a moment, hanging his aviators onto his shirt so they wouldn’t fall. You looked up at him, goofy smile forming across your face.

“You still driving me home?” You asked, tilting your head.

Rooster smiled down at you, hands making their way to your waist. “You bet I am.”

From the window, Bob and Phoenix were cheering. You groaned and pressed your face to his chest, waving at them blindly. Rooster laughed and gave them a thumbs up.

Once they had left, you pulled yourself from him and took a step back. You gripped his hand and gently pulled, leading him to the car.

“Am I allowed to say, ‘Take me to bed or lose me forever’?”

Rooster groaned, excitement flaring through him. “Show me the way home, honey.”

The two of you ran to the car, jumping in and pulling out of the parking lot before you even had your seatbelts on.

Rooster sped to your house in record time. You grabbed his hand, leading him through the door and towards your room.

Once inside, you kissed him again, removing his aviators and placing them gently onto your dresser.

You walked him backwards towards the bed and when his knees hit the edge, you pushed him down, enjoying the way he made a little “oomf” sound.

You sat atop of him, grinding your hips down. He moaned into your mouth, pawing at the hem of your shirt.

You took the initiative to take off his, throwing the fabric across your room. He got the hint and pulled at yours, allowing your shirt to join his on the floor.

He broke away, taking his time, committing your chest and every little freckle to memory.

You raked your fingers across his abs, watching how they flexed under your touch. His hips bucked when you got close to his v-line.

His hands came up to your fly, toying at. “Can I?” He asked, looking at you like a hopeful puppy.

You nodded, unsure if you could trust your voice.

Before he got your shorts down, he stopped. His eyes flitted up to yours, hesitation slowly crossing his features.

“You’re not drunk, right?”

God, you fell even more in love with him everyday.

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m not drunk. I want this.”

“Thank God.” and with that, he caught your lips again, pulling your shorts down. You had to get off him to pull them down fully and he whined at the loss of contact.

He scooted back on the bed, pulling at his own jeans as he did. He laid in his boxers, watching as you undressed.

You tried to remind yourself that this was Rooster. Not ever Rooster - this was Bradley.

Still, you left your bra and underwear on, slightly embarrassed that they weren’t a matching set. You made a mental note to go shopping soon.

He propped himself onto his elbow, enjoying the show as you crawled over and on top of him.

His eyes were so inviting and his scent was captivating. Your heart swelled as you looked down on him.

Rooster, Bradley, the boy you’ve loved, was beneath you and smiling. He placed his hands on your bare hips, drawing circles with his thumbs.

“Hi.” You said foolishly, unsure of anything better to say.

His smile only grew. “Hi.” He replied, eyes dancing around your facial features. “You’re really pretty.”

You dipped your head down into the crook of his neck and laughed. “Shut up.”

“I’m just making up for lost time.” He said. He cradled the back of you head and locked his legs around your waist. In a swift motion, you were beneath him, staring up into his dark brown eyes.

He pressed a quick kiss to your temple, removing his hand from behind your head. He trailed down, leaving soft kisses against your collar bone.

His lips found your hipbones, kissing each one gently before finding their way between your thighs.

You looked down, watching his hand come up and slowly massage your inner thigh. He pressed his nose against your core and another wave of arousal shot through you.

You let out a soft whine as he began to press his nose deeper, leaving soft kitten licks every once and a while.

Your hand found his hair and he hummed in appreciation.

He soon became relentless, lapping at you through your panties and gripping harshly at your thigh. His hips ground against the bed, seeking his own friction.

You felt yourself clench around nothing and cried out as his nose hit your clit perfectly.

“Please, Bradley, I need you.” It was so pitiful you surprised even yourself.

He pulled himself up and back to his original position, hovering slightly over you.

“I’m going to have to prep you first, baby girl. You are the biggest prude I know, after all.”

You went to say something snarky back but lost all words when he pressed a finger against your core, slowly teasing your entrance.

He slipped it in and began rocking back and forth, watching your reactions to see what made you scrunch your nose in discomfort and what made you moan.

He slowly added a second finger, checking your reaction. You moaned out as he pressed against your g-spot and felt your orgasm slowly start to build.

“Roos,” you moaned out, gripping at his bicep. Lord, when had he gotten this buff? “Please, more.”

Bradley chucked, leaning down to capture your lips. He pressed his thumb against your clit as he added a third finger.

Never going too fast, Rooster kept a steady pace, opening you up on his fingers.

When he pulled his fingers out, you whined at the loss. He smirked against your lips, pulling down his boxers.

He sat up quickly, fully removing them and tossing them aside. He found his discarded jeans and pulled out a condom from the pocket, quickly putting it on.

“Presumptuous, huh?” You joked, glad for the lighthearted moment.

He smirked, adjusting the condom so there would be no accidents. “I always have one when I go out. Don’t think too much about it.”

You laughed, throwing your head back. He chuckled and grabbed your thigh again. When you looked back, his eyes found yours and then glanced down, questioningly, at your panties.

You swallowed your fear and nodded. He took his time, pulling down the fabric, drinking in the sight of you.

“Let me know if you need me to slow down.” He told you, grabbing you under the knee and coming back to hover over you.

He slowly sunk into you, moaning out at the sensation.

You tensed, hissing at the feeling. It had been a long time since you’d done this and it was a completely different sensation.

Perhaps you just hadn’t liked the other ones as much as you thought you had because the way Bradley was leaning over you made you feel like heaven on earth.

He moved slowly, allowing you time to adjust to his size.

“God, you feel so good around me.” He moaned.

You whimpered in response, brain clouding over in pleasure.

Slowly, you felt the pain melt into intense pleasure. Your building orgasm started rapidly approaching.

“I’m not gonna last long.” You tell him as he began rocking his hips fast.

“Me neither.” He said, bringing his fingers down to work your clit.

You cried out, throwing your head back further into the pillows. You grip back onto his bicep, feeling how he tensed beneath your touch.

He worked your clit as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten. You willed yourself to keep your eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of having him above you.

His curls bounced with each thrust and his biceps tensed. A sheen layer of sweat was covering his forehead and his eyes changed between watching you and watching where he was entering you.

“Brad-Bradley!” You cried out, trying to hold yourself back from cumming embarrassingly early.

He kissed the inside of your neck, making you clench around him. He nipped the sensitive section of skin, thrusting his hips faster.

“Let go, darling, I got you.” And with that, you were cumming around him, eyes finally shutting as your orgasm flowed through you.

Bradley pulled out, jerking off until he came into the condom.

He rolled off you, catching his breath. You turned towards him, watching the way his chest heaved.

“Shit…” He muttered. “If I had known you felt that good, I would have admitted my feelings a long time ago.”

You laughed, swatting at his arm.

He smiled back before getting to his elbows, trying to stand. He groaned as he got up, unsteady legs taking him to the bathroom. He came back quickly, damp wash cloth in hand and gently cleaned you.

When he was done, he went to your dresser where you had kept a small section for his clothes. He pulled out a pair of his gray sweatpants and tossed them to you. For himself, he chose black sweats.

He went to the bathroom, leaving the washcloth in the sink.

Back in your room, you had put his gray sweatpants on and was making yourself comfortable underneath the covers.

Rooster came back, smiling at your sleepy figure.

He got into the bed, turning you onto your side and pulling you close. His head resting onto your shoulder, arms wrapped protectively around your waist.

“Hangman’s never going to talk to you like that again.” You muttered, half asleep already.

Bradley chuckled, snuggling deeper into you.

You slept better that night than you had in a long time. You had put Hangman in his place, and the boy you loved in your bed.

#rooster smut #rooster x reader #rooster x reader smut #bradley bradshaw #bradly bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #bradly bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradly bradshaw x reader #top gun smut

683 notes · View notes

fangirlingfromdownunder · 7 months

Text

Comfort in a Bar

Summary - Part 37 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

You collect your and Dean’s refills from the bar and make your way over to where he’s attempting to hustle a group of young boys at pool. You watch as he deliberately fumbles the shot. As he puts his cue down you hand him his glass.

“It’s alright, babe. You never were the best at this game,” you say helping his act. Turning your attention back to the game in front of you, you watch as the other guy lands a few shots and then misses. Dean goes to hand you his drink. “How about I handle this? You’re not-”

The other guy cuts you off, “No, he started this, I’m only playing against him otherwise he forfeits.”

You nod and take Dean’s drink with a knowing look. He picks the cue back up and lines up his shot. You take a sip of your drink as you watch him land one shot after another until all of the solids balls are potted. He then lines up the 8-ball and shoots you a wink before striking the ball.

The other guy looks at you both in shock as the 8-ball lands in the pocket. “How? What?”

Dean strolls over to you and kisses you on the top of the head. “I just needed my good luck charm here.”

The man shakes his head and pulls out his wallet handing Dean his winnings and walks off. You hand Dean his drink and he leads you to a table and holds out the money to you. “For you.”

Knowing it’ll probably just go towards the next round of drinks you take it and slip it into your pocket. As you’re enjoying the comfortable quiet between the two of you and the ambience of the bar you swear you overhear the men at the table next to yours say the word ‘werewolf’.

“Dean,” you say quietly getting his attention, you subtly nod your head towards the table beside you. He gives you a confused look before glancing over at the men. He looks back at you and shakes his head still confused.

Having brought attention to yourselves the men look over and sigh. “Great,” the tall, slender man with piercing blue eyes and a neatly trimmed beard says, “Winchesters are here…”

Hearing his name Dean’s immediately out of his seat and leaning over their table blocking their view of you. “How’d you know my name? Who are you? What are you?” he asks roughly, his right hand reaching under his flannel for his knife.

They quickly put their hands up in surrender. The same man slowly says, “I’m Mark and this is Jason. We’re hunters. All good hunters know about the Winchesters, and how if you’re here it means we’re not. People who work with you have a habit of winding up dead. So, good luck with the case, we’ll just be going now.” They slowly start to stand up.

Dean releases his grip on his knife, stands up straighter and briefly glances over his shoulder at you before looking back at them. “How about you tell me what you’ve got on this case so far? Maybe we can help each other.”

The slightly shorter, more muscular man, who was introduced as Jason, pipes up, “Didn’t you just hear my friend? We might be hunters, but we value our lives, so no thanks. I’m sure you and your moose of a brother have it handled, wherever he is.”

“My brother’s not here, just me. And if you’ve heard about me then you know the experience I have. Let me help.”

“Dean,” you say offended. With one look he can tell exactly what you’re thinking, so he shakes his head sternly.

Jason speaks again, getting Dean’s attention, “Look man, your girl there looks like she needs some attention. You worked hard to get in her pants so enjoy your quick screw and by the time you’re done we’ll be long gone and you can take care of the case yourself.”

You see Dean instantly tense at the man’s words. Before he can react you’re out of your seat and at his side gripping his wrist. He slams his left hand on the table in front of them. “She’s no quick screw. This is my wife, and for your information, she’s a damn good hunter. But,” he looks down at you before continuing, “If she thinks for one second I’m letting her go on a hunt on our honeymoon…”

You meet Dean’s gaze and shake your head. “Then what, Dean?” And then frustrated at your overprotective husband, you look back over at the other hunters and say, “I understand you don’t wanna work with a Winchester but I’ve only officially been one for a couple of days, and fangs and claws are kinda my specialty.” They give you sceptical looks so you continue, “I’m gonna level with you here. He ain’t lying, this is our honeymoon, and I’ll be damned if some monster is gonna ruin it. So, the quicker we figure out this case, the quicker I can get back to lounging on the beach. So, I’m begging you, let us help you.”

Jason nods, “Look I’m really sorry for what I said about you. Dean just has-”

“A bit of a reputation,” you finish for him, “I’m aware. But things change. Do we have a deal?”

The hunters give each other a look and then nod. Then Mark says, “One case and one case only. And we take the lead.”

“Sounds good,” you say as you drag your chair over to their table and sit down. “I heard you say werewolf. What else do you know?”

Jason and Mark sit back down as Dean drags his chair over to join you. His hand lands on your thigh giving what you can only imagine is a warning squeeze. You mentally prepare yourself for the argument and hopefully makeup sex that you’ll share after you finish this case and get back to the hotel. The hunters tell you both everything they know about the case so far. Initially, it started out as a string of cattle mutilations at farms outside the city but recently a couple of strange deaths caught their eye; women left by the dumpsters outside night clubs with their hearts ripped out. They explained they already tried to talk to the nightclub owners for security footage, but unsurprisingly they don’t have cameras out the back.

“So, women outside nightclubs? Sounds like you need bait?” you say.

Dean squeezes your thigh harder. “I know what you’re thinking. No way.”

You put your hand over his on your thigh. “You’ll always protect me, right?”

“Of course, but-”

“Good, then this is our best lead. I know I agreed you guys could take the lead but…”

Jason nods, “No, you’re right. We hit a dead end, if you’re willing to be bait then you’re our best bet at catching this thing.” He writes down the address of the nightclub on a napkin and slides it across the table to you.

You skim over the address and then hand it to Dean. “Alright. If I’m gonna do this right, I’m gonna need a costume change. Meet you guys there in 20.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Back in the hotel, you slip out of your jeans, flannel and T-shirt. You pull an older-looking pair of jeans out of your bag and slice off most of the leg so they’re really short and slip them on, then you slip your (Dean’s) flannel back on and tie the ends in a knot that sits just under the bottom of your bra. You glance over at your high heels but then pull your boots back on, opting for at least one piece of comfort. Dean looks you up and down and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. Unable to stop himself he walks over to you and places his hands on your bare waist pulling you close and looking into your eyes.

“We can find another way. Please, Sweetheart. I can’t risk losing you like this. Not now…Not ever…”

“You won’t lose me. It’s a werewolf. It’ll be a walk in the park for us. We’ve done this like a thousand times. I trust you, Dean. I know you’ll be there to protect me, even if those other guys fumble, I know you have my back.”

“But..But what if-”

“No what ifs. You’ve never let me down in a hunt before and I know you won’t start now. So, let’s go gank this thing so we can get back here and well…”

“I meant it when I say you’re a damn good hunter. You are. But you’re going in there unarmed. Just please…please be careful.”

You reach up and put your hands on his cheeks and bring his face to yours so your lips are almost touching and whisper, “Always,” then you close the gap. You slowly pull away and say, “And I’m not going in completely unarmed. This ring,” you say as you tap your wedding ring against his cheek, “Pure silver. So, I’ll know when the werewolf touches me.”

With Dean, reluctantly in agreeance, you meet the other hunters at the nightclub. Dean drops you off at the front with a kiss before driving around the back. Inside you notice Mark sitting on a stool near the bar, you give him a subtle nod as you sit at the opposite end and order a fancy cocktail. When no one approaches you, you decide to move onto the dance floor, keeping Mark in your sights. You start dancing with the nearest guy but when he notices the ring on your finger he pulls away. You quickly slip it onto your other hand before zeroing in on another guy. You run your right hand with the ring along his forearm as you dance with him, nothing. You continue dancing with him for a bit so you don’t look suspicious but keep scanning the room. Once you’ve had more than your fill of dancing on the crowded dancefloor with random people brushing against your ass and getting a little too handsy, you stalk back to the bar for another drink. While you wait for the bartender to serve you someone comes up behind you standing very close.

“How about I get your next round, Sweetheart? I saw your moves out there, maybe I could get the next dance too?” a deep voice says close to your ear. You hold back a wince at the sound of anyone other than your husband calling you ‘Sweetheart’ that was his thing, but you push down your physical response and attempt to act normal. You try your best to look at him seductively as you accept his offer and let him pay the bartender after you get your second cocktail. He slips one hand along your back starting at your covered shoulders but setting on your bare waist, effectively distracting you. Goosebumps rise over your skin at the feeling of the wrong hands on you. As soon as the bartender hands you your drink you take a long sip to calm yourself and then place your drink back down on the bar, keeping your left hand firmly on the glass you place your right hand flat on the bar. You look past him at Mark as the man slides his free hand down your right arm until his hand sits on top of yours. The second his skin collides with your ring he winces and pulls back slightly, trying to play it off he slides his hand back up your arm. At that you give Mark a look, and he straightens himself a little in his seat. You turn around in the guy’s arms and wrap yours around his neck, careful not to let your ring touch him again and give yourself away.

“So, how about that dance, Stud?” you say, almost cringing at your own words as you attempt to lead him back towards the dancefloor.

He leans down grazing his nose down your neck and then comes back up to meet your eyes. Then he brings your drink around from behind your back and offers it to you. “But you haven’t finished your drink?”

You look at it suspiciously. “Nah, I’d really rather just dance.”

“Come on, it was a gift. You should finish it.”

Knowing he’ll get suspicious and leave if you push too hard, you give in and finish the drink. You know immediately that you made a mistake when you realise you weren’t watching when it was made and then his insistence. But initially, you feel alright, so you place the glass back on the bar and lead the man to the dance floor. After a few songs, you start to formulate your plan to get him out into the alley where you know Dean’s waiting. But as you try to lead the dance towards the door your head starts to feel fuzzy and the room starts to spin. Struggling to stay on your feet you resort to leaning on him for support. As you sway with him you feel him leading you somewhere, but with your eyelids getting heavy and your muscles relaxing you’re unable to distinguish where or fight back. You have no choice but to go with him. After a few more steps you lose the fight with the sudden, overwhelming drowsiness and your eyes fall closed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A/N: Just like that the fluffy, sexy honeymoon is over!

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0, @nelachu2423, @ladysparkles78

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

34 notes · View notes