#don't @ me on the lighting please this show is dark as fuck
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YOU AND GHOST MAKE UP AFTER A FIGHT
or, ghost shows you just how sorry he is. minors dni.
➼ you're fighting over something stupid, but both of you are stubborn as hell and won't let it go. the walls of your apartment shake as you slam the door behind you, and you can hear Simon's exasperated groan even through the door as you storm down the stairs
➼ it's late when you come back, the living room and kitchen empty. the door to your bedroom is closed, and the lights are dimmed. you debate sleeping on the couch, but fuck it, it's your bed too
➼ though simon doesn't look up from his book as you close the bedroom door behind you, you can feel his eyes dragging over you as you pull your shirt over your head, drinking in the bare skin of your back, the curve of your waist where it flows into your thighs. you hear a strangled mix of a sigh and a hiss leave his mouth as you pull your pajamas on, his eyes snagging on the lace hem when you turn to throw your clothes in the hamper
➼ you forcefully pull the sheets back, slipping into bed and tightening your jaw. simon glances up from his book, the left side of his lips pulled up, and you send him the darkest glare you can muster.
"this doesn't mean anything, simon," you snap, rolling away from him to switch your lamp off, "it's my fucking bed too." simon only chuckles, marking a page in his book and turning off his lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
➼ you lay in silence angrily, as far away as you can get from simon. you take deep breaths, trying not to revel in the warmth that simon exudes. though you hate to admit it, it's colder than you thought without being wrapped in his arms.
➼ you hear sheets rustle and suddenly, simon's chest is pressed against your back, head tucked in the crook of your shoulder, stubble scratching your neck.
"missed you today," he whispers, hands settling on your hips, dragging higher and bringing your top with them, "missed you so fucking much angel." you set your jaw again, hating how only the brush of his against your skin could get you so riled up, could get your resolve cracking.
➼ you don't respond, but your body sinks back into his, goosebumps erupting across your ribcage as his hands travel higher. you knew where this was going the second his fingers reached the hem of your shirt, but you still gasp softly as his huge, callused hands cup your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers.
"fuck you, simon riley," you try to hurl the words at him, but they come out as whine, your back arching as you lean towards his hands, chasing the stimulation. he groans, cursing under his breath as he slips his bare leg between your thighs.
"i know," he groans, "i know, i'm sorry, lovie, let me make it up to you, please..." his voice his low, husky, desperate, one of his hands trailing downwards to land on your hip.
➼ his hand guides your hips as you roll them against his thigh. it's slow and messy, his low voice and the darkness only making you leak harder on his leg. you're moaning freely now, clenching desperately around nothing, head thrown back, landing on simon's chest. he's not in a better state, rutting against you, unable to stop the groans and swears that leave his mouth.
"you're a piece of shit," you gasp as you turn around, pressing your lips to simon's. he kisses you back desperately, still moving your hips against his as his tongue sweeps across yours.
"i know, i know," he gasps against your lips. his hands are shaking as he pulls your shirt off, pulling you close to his chest, letting your nipples rub against his faded t-shirt. but it's not enough.
"off," you moan, pulling at the hem of his shirt. you pull it off together, relishing in the skin-to-skin contact. you loop your arms around his neck to give you better leverage, rolling your hips harder. simon's lashes flutter as his head drops back, mouth falling slack.
➼ his hand creeps underneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, cupping you as you rut against his hand. he thumbs your clit, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as your thighs start to shake, a blush creeping down your neck and chest.
"si," you gasp, and he bites his lip at the sound of his nickname, "think- think I'm gonna-"
"cum for me," his voice is halfway between a growl and a whine, he's so desperate, he's about to cum in his boxers like a fucking teenager just from grinding against you and the thought only makes him whine, ducking his head into your neck.
➼ you cum hard, all over simon's hand and wrist, thighs trapping him between your legs. he drags your lips into a messy kiss, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit until you whine from overstimulation and push his hand away. he brings his hand to his mouth, eyes rolling back in his head as he sucks you off his fingers.
➼ you lie there together in silence, one of simon's arms thrown over your waist as you catch your breath, forehead resting on his scarred chest. his fingers toy with your hair idly.
"i am sorry, you know," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you look up at him with a soft smile on your lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his free hand.
"i know," you whisper back, "i'm sorry too. it was a stupid fight." simon tilts your chin up, huge hand cupping your jaw as he kisses you, slow and soft and sweet.
"though," you start, speaking against his lips, "if this is how we make up, maybe we should fight more often."
simon throws his head back and laughs, a true, full-bodied laugh. you press a butterfly kiss to the tip of his nose before pushing the blankets back and padding to the bathroom. simon groans, both at your absence and at the glare of the bathroom light, propping himself up on his elbows and throwing an arm over his eyes.
"come back," he groans, blinking in the harsh light. you shake your head with a little hum, starting the shower.
"nope. we both need a shower. a clean, sinless shower," you emphasize as simon pulls himself out of bed with a smirk, making a face as he pulls off his ruined boxers.
he wraps you in his arms, tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder as steam starts to fill the bathroom. his hands are greedy as they trace over your bare skin, and he drinks in your giggles like wine.
he can't believe how in love he is.
"no promises," he whispers in your ear, tucking a strand behind it and leaving a kiss on the arc of your shoulder. you playfully shove him back into the shower, laughing harder as he pulls you in after him.
➼ all in all, it's a pretty good way to make up after a fight.
who put feelings in my porn????
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost cod#ghost mw2#mw2 ghost#simon riley cod#simon riley x you#ghost#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon ghost x reader#ghost smut#ghost x reader#ghost headcanons#ghost fanfiction
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Red Light [landlord!joel miller]
The men you keep bringing home are no good for you. It's up to your landlord Joel to protect you from heartbreak.
my masterlist!
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
rating: 18+ (mdni)
tags and warnings: AU - no outbreak/modern day, obsessive!joel, dark!joel, but also soft!joel, landlord!joel, violence, death, murder, stalking, jealousy, truly creepy behaviour, unprotected sex (lead by example; just not mine), creampie, dubious consent, reader’s serious lack of self-preservation, sexual tension, abuse of power, spanking, spitting, squirting, praise kink, degradation kink, joel is a munch, somnophilia, possessive behaviour, dirty talk, a smidgen of gaslighting, the general filth you should expect from me by now, a spoonful of genuine intimate connection™️, implied age gap, submissive reader, dominant joel, daddy kink, knives, mild torture, light anal play, voyeurism, unreliable narration, inappropriate use of a necklace, panty sniffing, ambiguous(?) ending
word count: ~ 15.8k (uh, oops!)
read on ao3!
hello, all! this fic has been tossing and turning inside the proverbial sheets of my head for a while now. when i tell you it's darker than anything i've written, i mean it, so please, please mind the tags. this story does not depict a healthy relationship; joel is a total creep and both he and reader are heavily delusional. with that said, please enjoy this (super long) one-shot!! xoxo
PREFACE
Stars, hide your fires;
Let not light see my black and deep desires.
— Macbeth, I.IV
~
THE TENANT
You're beginning to think it’s a built-in bad luck charm. A microchip implanted in your skin or a flaw you have yet to pick out. Every single one of your prospective boyfriends has disappeared off the face of the Earth since you moved into town.
It isn't you. It's not. There is nothing wrong with you. It isn't your fault that either they decide after one date that you aren't worth seeing again, or they stand you up before the date can even begin. Your profile pictures are decent. You followed the rules meticulously: a shot of your face, a group picture to show you have friends, a selfie, a candid. You've examined them time and time again for flaws and find none that a man would care about. You're pretty. Sexy. Confident. They're just intimidated. Fuck, you're turning into your mother.
And yet—
Since moving into this apartment—this beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime deal of an apartment—your luck with dating has abruptly ended.
It's a lovely building. A stout brownstone with wrought-iron stairs and an old, but functional, elevator, it's traditional and charming. Perfect for a single woman.
Six months. This is your first second date in six months. David is just fine. He's handsome in a frat-initiate kind of way, with a nice smile and a good sense of dress. He doesn't ask many questions about you, and he's a little pretentious about films you don't give a shit about, but he likes you. You didn't have a horrible time on the first date: he wasn't afraid to spend his money on you at the nice restaurant. And he has a car.
Raised as an optimist, you learned to see the good parts of a situation. David can work out.
On the way out of the elevator, you spot your landlord Joel speaking to the concierge. You instinctively smooth down your hair and wave at him as you walk by, shrugging your purse onto your shoulder. “Hi, Joel. Hi, Sam.”
Sam the concierge waves back, but Joel puts his back to the conversation and gives you his full attention, bracing his hands on the edge of the desk. Your heart leaps and your head goes fuzzy with nerves. You barely manage to force a giddy giggle back down your throat. Relief coats your bones when Sam excuses himself to take a call.
Joel Miller’s an older guy, his tousled dark hair threaded with silver on his head and in his beard. One look at him and a person could know that he works with his hands for a living; he’s broad-shouldered, strong, with big arms and a capable air about him. He’s proven his mettle a hundred times over already with the miniscule repairs he’s made to the building. He turned it into a good place to live; he even trims the hedges outside and polishes the doorknobs when they get rusty.
He’s wearing a green T-shirt today, which is another member of the typical summertime circulation of blue and grey T-shirts, and a pair of jeans. “Evening,” he says, his rich brown eyes sparkling. Sometimes, you can see him smile when his mouth isn’t showing it. It’s charming. Enthralling. “How’s that new lock workin’ out for you?”
You grin. He remembered. Joel installed a new deadbolt on your door last week, since the chain on the last one broke. “It’s perfect,” you tell him. “Are you in a chocolate or lemon mood this time?”
His gaze flickers down your body, taking in your yellow dress, before meeting yours again. “Lemon,” he says.
You bite the inside of your cheek. Talking to a handsome man feels like tossing your heart in the air and trying to juggle. Flirting with a handsome man is like toeing a tightrope between two mountains and forcing yourself not to look down. Your stomach swoops with the path of his eyes over your body, and you cannot convince yourself that you imagined it. “Lemon squares it is. Thank you again, Joel.”
“Just my job to keep my tenants safe,” he says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. You can see a pair of keys in his pocket along with his cell phone. The mere sight of his belt makes your cheeks hot. Why are you looking at his belt? You’re going on a date with another man, for God’s sake. Relax.
“Helps when I like my tenants so much,” adds Joel, and you forget why you were scolding yourself in the first place.
“Yeah?” You tilt your head to the side. “Maybe you should be baking for them, instead.”
Joel steps away from the desk, working his jaw as he seems to fight down a smile. “It’s for the best this way, believe me. Can’t cook for shit.”
“Big, strong man like you can’t work a stove?” you tease. Don’t look down.
“I only fix ‘em.” There’s a crooked smile on his face now, and your heart beats your ribs to shrapnel. “You look real nice. Goin’ somewhere?”
That simple validation calms your nerves more effectively than a half-hour of repeating affirmations into the mirror before leaving your apartment. You give the skirt of your sundress a little swish. “A date, actually,” you say, feeling sheepish. Your landlord certainly doesn’t need to hear about your track record as of late. “He’s taking me to Sunfest, in the park.”
A minute twitch of his brow is the only reaction he gives to the news. “That so?” he says. “Lucky man.”
“More like lucky me,” you say with a small laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear. Stop talking, you plead to yourself. Too much information. Shut up, kindly excuse yourself, and leave.
Joel shakes his head, and now is the first time you notice that his eyes haven’t once left you. It warms your body. “He’s the lucky one. Trust me.”
“Okay. I concede.” You chew on your lip for a moment and, sure enough, his gaze hones in on your mouth. The air in the lobby crackles white-hot. You clear your throat, turning your head to find David’s car parked on the street outside. “I should go. But I promise I’ll get started on those lemon squares soon.”
It’s a possibility that you only imagine Joel’s eyes flitting from the car outside back to you when you turn your head back to face him. “Do me a favour?” he says, a scrape to his deep drawl.
“Anything, Joel.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “Be safe,” he says. “You have my number if anything goes wrong.”
You give him a grateful smile. “I’ll be safe, Joel. And if I’m not, you’re the first person I’ll call.”
“Good. That’s…” He trails off, still watching you, his eyes trained in their path across your face. “You’re good. Smart, beautiful, good. You deserve to have somethin’ real.”
The simple, small praises melt your bone marrow and recast it in the shape of him. The old chandelier hanging from the ceiling casts him in a soft light, stark against the hard muscles and profound depths in his eyes. He's breathtaking. You've always known it, but…
He sees something in you, too.
David honks his horn and makes you jump out of your stupor. You walk backwards out of the lobby just to keep looking at Joel for as long as you can. “For the record,” you say, “you’re a good man, Joel.”
“Don’t be so sure, honey,” he replies, his tone playful.
You laugh, hurrying out to David’s car as the door closes behind you.
“This place is beautiful,” you said to Sam, the concierge working the front desk of your prospective apartment. The appropriate paperwork was in your arms, your eyes scanning every inch of the old building. Of all the places you'd seen in and around the neighbourhood, this was the most promising. You hoped to get a glimpse at a unit before you signed, though. Assuming the landlord even wanted you to live here.
Sam smiled at you. “Lots of people just see the cracks.”
“There's so much character,” you replied, admiring the crystal chandelier. The walls were a calming, aged white, the floors genuine hardwood. The lobby was decorated with plush chairs upholstered with burnt orange fabric, the corners filled with real potted plants.
The door opened behind you, and you turned to see a handsome stranger, dressed in a pair of dirty jeans and mud-caked shirt, wiping his forehead with his forearm. Behind you, Sam said, “This is Joel Miller. The landlord.”
“Oh!” You were flustered, floundering to stretch out your hand to shake as you introduced yourself. “I’m sorry to catch you at a bad time. This building is gorgeous. You've done a great job with it, Mr. Miller.”
The landlord did not once look at Sam, his eyes fixed solely on you as he wiped a hand on the cloth slung over his shoulder and shook your hand. His hand engulfed yours, warm and rough. The touch jolted you like an electric shock. Your hands must have been clammy and shaking with nerves, but the contact steeled you.
The intensity of his gaze, however, made you shift on your feet. He didn't waver, didn't stray, like a man set on a mission. Nothing about him was shy. He drank in the sight of you, indulging without shame, his eyes travelling to the next destination once they'd had their fill. It made you feel stripped to the bone.
“It's nice to meet you,” he said. “Sorry for the dirt. Just finished weeding.”
You shook your head in dismissal. “You really take care of this place.”
“It's good work,” he said plainly. “Serves me well. I like gettin’ my hands dirty, fixin’ things.”
“Where were you when my sink broke every week at my old place?”
“Fixing the sinks in this one.”
You laughed. “Well, for what it's worth, the outside is beautiful, too. Not a weed in sight.”
“Pleased to hear it,” said Joel, his dark eyes glittering under the chandelier.
“You're from Texas!” you said suddenly. Oh, God, kill me now. I sound like a stalker.
But Joel smiled, a raspy laugh leaving his mouth. You wondered if he laughed often. He looked like a serious man. “You familiar?”
“I was born there,” you supplied. “Left when I was young, but my dad lived there all his life.”
“Lookin’ good on you already,” he said. “It’ll be nice havin’ another one of us around.”
“Does that mean you're considering me?” you couldn't help but ask. Fuck, you wanted this apartment.
“I've already considered,” said Joel, his eyes sweeping your body. “You're the only applicant.”
Your hands were trembling and your heart thrummed with excitement. “Oh, God, thank you!” you gasped. “Joel, thank you.”
You could swear his chest swelled a bit at your graciousness. “I can show you the unit, if you’d like. It needs some TLC, but I’m happy to help with the process as best I can. Unless you have someone to…”
You realised what he was hinting at and shook your head. “Oh, no, it’s just me. I’d love to take a look.”
You noted the slight drop of his shoulders and followed him into the elevator. A part of you was surprised to see there was no gate that closed you in; they were plain, somewhat modern elevator doors. “Fixed it last month,” Joel said, looking sideways at you. “Just in time, apparently.”
You grinned at him, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Nice to see there's no creepy operator in here.”
“Just me.” He punched the button for the third floor and rode with you to the top.
This was the start of your new life.
You shut the passenger’s side door and situate yourself inside David’s Lincoln. He’s dressed in a pair of black shorts and a clean Henley. “Hey, beautiful,” he says, leaning in to kiss you across the console.
You hum, smiling against his mouth. “You clean up nice, too.”
He places a hand on your thigh and pulls away from the curb. He's a touchy person, which is perfectly fine considering how long your latest dry spell has lasted, but at least he isn't inching his way up your dress to cop a feel while he drives.
The festival is bustling with people, tented stands, and the smell of fried dough and beer. It’s almost dinnertime, and your stomach growls. When was the last time you ate? You spent hours agonising over what to wear until you were sweating and had to shower all over again. You wish you’d snuck an apple into your purse.
David pulls you into him as you both walk through the winding paths between vendors. “It’s a beautiful night,” you say breezily.
David squeezes your waist. “Mmm. You’re beautiful.”
A bit too corny for your taste, but you let it slide. “Don't tell me you're allergic to powdered sugar, because I’ve been eyeing the elephant ears.”
“God, if I eat that shit, I think it’ll set me back a month at the gym,” he laughs. “Let’s get one for you, though.”
Great. Now you're the expensive date who eats while her date watches her stuff her mouth with an elephant ear. “Uh. Maybe later.”
You stop at a jewellery vendor and spend a good while eyeing up a beautiful gold necklace and the heart-shaped pendant dangling from it. David doesn’t notice your staring and breezes by with your hand firmly in his. “Let's check out the grand stand. My buddy’s band is playing before the fireworks display.”
“Sure,” you say, turning your head to watch the necklace disappear slowly from view.
The gigantic domed stage houses a group of musicians currently tuning up their instruments. David sidles right up to the front and releases your hand to execute an elaborate handshake with his friend, who’s fine-tuning his bass.
“Hey, man,” greets the bass player. “Good to see you. Who’s this?”
You open your mouth to introduce yourself, stretching your hand out, but David says, “My date for tonight. Baby, this is Ray, of Uncontrolled Bleeding fame.”
The bass player shakes your hand politely. “Very nice to meet you.”
Because it doesn’t seem to matter much to David, you decide it’s worth the time to tell Ray your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Ray. I’m excited to hear you play.”
Not that you've ever heard of a band called Uncontrolled Bleeding. Still, Ray seems nice enough, and you're on a date. You should give them a chance.
David squeezes your waist and kisses you lightly on the temple. “You mind if I go backstage for a bit to say hi to the other guys? Won’t be long.”
What?
“Oh!” you manage to eke out over the great swooping nosedive your heart has just performed. He’s here to see his friends. He’s not on a date. “Of course. Take your time. I’ll just… walk around.”
David departs with Ray for a personal backstage tour while you bite down on your tongue and turn back in the direction of the main strip. A few vendors catch your attention, and you take your time because God knows David is taking his. A little bit of you revels in your own petty victory when, a half-hour later, Uncontrolled Bleeding begins to blare their metallic, screaming anthems across the park and you haven’t returned to the grand stand.
You find your way back to the jewellery vendor to ponder over your favourite necklace some more, but your night gets worse when you find that it’s disappeared from the headless display mannequin. You solemnly slide your wallet back into your bag and pause when you hear your phone ringing.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” It’s David’s voice, presumably, though it’s so loud on the other end of the line that you can barely make out his words. “I can’t… where… left?”
You plug one ear and look vaguely in the direction of the grand stand across the park. “I can’t hear you very well, David.”
“… afterparty… downtown… going… Uber home?”
You press your lips together and look down at the ground: at your pretty sandals, your new dress. Your entirely wasted potential on a guy who wanted you to find your own way home. “Yeah, David,” you say tightly. You don’t particularly care if he can hear you. “You have fun with your friends.”
“Can’t hear… talk later… okay?”
You hang up and wander back toward the vendor selling elephant ears.
~
“Miller.”
“Hi, Joel.”
“Honey, it’s loud. Can barely hear you. Are you safe?”
“I’m safe, Joel, I promise. It’s just—Uncontrolled Bleeding.”
“What?”
“No, I mean, the band. They’re really loud. I hate to ask, and I know it’s late, but—”
“What do you need?”
“I, uh… I need a ride home. I can’t get a cab, and all the Ubers around are taken, and the busses are rerouted all the way—”
“I’m comin’ to get you. You just wait for me at the entrance, okay, baby girl?”
“Thank you, Joel.”
“You know I said you could call me for anything. I meant it.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Oh! Wait—”
“What? What is it?”
“Do you want an elephant ear?”
~
Joel is white-knuckling the steering wheel when he arrives to pick you up. Despite the congestion around the festival grounds and the fact that your apartment is at least fifteen minutes away, Joel makes it to you in a mere five.
“Did you blow every red light to get here, Mr. Miller?” you ask with a playful smile as you secure your seatbelt and settle on the truck bench.
“I was in the area,” he says with a crooked smile, looking your way. “May have pushed forty a couple times, though.”
You sheepishly extend a cardboard takeout box filled with fried, powdered dough. “Will you take this as my sincere thanks, or will you expect a separate batch of lemon squares?”
Joel answers by dipping his head and taking a bite of the flattened, doughy bread. You watch every minute movement, his strong jaw working as he chews, indulging you even though he’s already done far too much to get you out of this rut. He doesn’t once break eye contact while he eats; you begin to chew subconsciously on your bottom lip.
“Ain’t bad,” he declares at last, and your shoulders deflate with a kind of relief, “but if you let me take you for some real dinner, I’ll forget about that extra batch.”
You tentatively reach for his mouth and swipe some powdered sugar from his moustache with the pad of your thumb. You feel his eyes scanning your face all the while. “Look at me, the lucky girl,” you say softly. “One date goes wrong, and there’s a strong, handsome man waiting to take me on another.”
From the very first day, Joel Miller has always taken his time when it comes to looking at you. It’s a penetrative stare that makes your skin heat up from the tips of your ears down to your chest. His eyes are so dark, pools of warm melted sugar, and you feel yourself leaning, trancelike, slow, into that cavernous gaze. Your body is not your own. It seeks the subtle warmth, the familiar scent—sawdust, coffee beans, rich, dark cologne—and the violent torrent of sensation that erupts from the contact point when he cups your cheek in one hand.
You’re in the throes of attention, warm as a candle weeping fat waxen tears.
“Told you before,” says Joel, his thumb sweeping fondly across your chin, “you deserve somethin’ real.”
“Yeah,” you sigh happily, feeling all-too complacent under the touch of his rough palm, “maybe I do.”
Behind you, a car honks its horn, and Joel curses, pulling away from the curb. He takes you to Turner’s, a bar by campus that would be crawling with students if it weren’t for the festival. Joel comes around to the passenger’s door and opens it for you, helping you hop out with your hand enclosed in his. His palm is a steady weight on your back as you both walk inside the dim, stuffy bar.
The back is bustling with activity—drunk folks playing pool or watching the Huskies’ football game or splitting their attention between both—but the bar itself has enough spaces open to fit the two of you. Here, the light is burnt orange, and it makes the strands of grey in his hair shimmer gold. His eyes observe his surroundings with a military precision before they flit back to you, magnetic.
“Shame to waste this dress on that asshole,” says Joel, sweeping his gaze down, back up, barely perceptible. “You’re too goddamn pretty for any of ‘em.”
You’re deliciously abuzz with the incisive way he compliments you. It feels like being punctured down to your very soul; you will never forget the shape of the stain his words leave. “Do you spy on all my dates, Joel?”
He smirks. “Don’t need to spy on ‘em, baby. They’re a bunch of obnoxious kids.”
You huff, resting your cheek against your palm. “I just don’t get it. I thought David was just fine. Then, he takes me on a date just to abandon me for his friends and tell me to find my own way home.”
Joel shakes his head, scoffing as he runs his fingers through his beard. He does that when he’s frustrated sometimes, and you wonder if his hair is soft or coarse. “Piece of shit doesn't know how good he got it.”
“You must know something I don’t,” you say mirthlessly, watching the bartender approach from the other end of the long honey-oak block. “I haven't been able to get a second date since I moved in.”
Joel is silent, eyes still firmly fixed to you, until the bartender arrives, a charming middle-aged woman with a particular Texan twang you could recognise from a mile away. “What’ll it be, Joel?” she asks, giving him a sweet dimpled smile. “Hi, honey. This old man botherin’ you?”
“Only in a nice way,” you reply, squeezing his shoulder.
Joel hides his grin with a swipe of his fingers over his bottom lip. “Coffee for me, Rina. Drivin’ home.”
Rina’s eyes slide to you, and you ask for the same. You don't want to drink alone. She reappears moments later with two small, chipped mugs of dark roast in her hands. Setting them in front of you, she takes your food orders: a BLT for Joel and a veggie burger for yourself. It’s almost ten o’clock now, too late to eat, but your eyes droop sleepily and your stomach growls for a taste of real food. The powdered dough, shockingly, did not suffice.
“You ever miss Texas?” Joel asks once you're halfway into your respective meals. You notice that he only digs into his sandwich when you aren't eating, and abstains briefly to watch while you take your bites. It's an exchange of energy, a steady vigil by your side, the hypnotic pull of his warm body. You cannot scoot any closer to him, but your leg brushes his where you rest your foot on his barstool.
“I wish I remembered more of it,” you tell him. “I grew up a big city girl. Even lost my accent a year into being away. My dad would tease me about it all the time. Said I’d been gentrified.” You fondly shake your head. “Miss him like hell.”
“I can still hear it sometimes,” says Joel, tilting his head to the side, “when you get all passionate about somethin’. Like the time I installed your deadbolt and you tried to explain away your Backstreet Boys CD.”
You put your head in your hands. “Oh, God. I thought you'd forgotten.”
“Nuh-uh, baby, you ain't easy to forget. And I like when you get excited. You get this look in your eye.”
“Yeah?” You slide your foot up his ankle and bring the leg of his jeans with it. Up, down, you keep going, letting the relative darkness embolden you, his sweet little pet names and his silent adequacy enabling what is most definitely inappropriate behaviour. “Tell me about this look, Joel.”
He rests his elbow up on the bar and squares his broad shoulders to you. They eclipse all the other patrons behind him. “You've got pretty eyes,” he tells you. “First thing I noticed when I met you all those months ago. Saw how they lit up when you smiled. Heard your happiness when you told me about Texas. It was nice to be the reason you smiled, ‘n’ I just wanted to make it happen again. I couldn't say no to you. Don't know how any man ever could.”
The revelation stuns you in your seat. His expression telegraphs little save for his attentiveness, his posture locked parallel with yours, singularly focused on the way you react to him.
You try for a joke. “And I was the only applicant.”
It crumbles, sand in your mouth. Something has shifted. Joel isn't the type to shy away from a conversation, but his gaze hasn't once shifted from your face. It feels like flames licking your cheeks, the heat of that look pushing in on both sides, inescapable. You find that you enjoy the way his attention makes you preen; you want him to look at you.
He thinks you have pretty eyes.
“You know that ain't the reason why,” he says, whisper-quiet and gruff amid the vague chatter in the bar.
“Why, Joel?” you ask, spine straightening, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. As you suspected, his eyes flick down your face, lashes obscuring the precise shade of his irises.
His Adam’s apple dips. “‘Cause I like you,” he says, the feeling of it like the slide of suede down your spine, “and I wanna keep you safe.”
You shrug slightly, giving him a smile. “I feel pretty safe.”
Joel’s hand drops to the bar top and his fingertips brush yours. The touch jolts your sleepy mind awake. “You're too good for every single one of those assholes you bring around. You know that, right?”
“I’m beginning to understand.”
“You deserve someone who's gonna be good to you. Give you all the attention you need. Make you… happy.”
You swallow thickly, the candle flame pressing in, sucking the oxygen from your lungs. “Thank you, Joel.”
His fingers begin to creep up every ridge of your knuckles, slowly turning over your palm so it faces the ceiling. The rough pad of his thumb traces the long lifeline inside.
“Repeat it.”
His eyes lift to yours, and for a moment, there’s something in them that ignites an instinct inside you to flee. There's danger in those eyes: the careful, measured restraint of a man who knows more anger than he lets show. A flicker, brief but incandescent, passes through your head, an electrical current.
He’s the reason you never had a second date.
It disappears the instant it comes, the Paterian glimpse of an idea in its entirety fleeing for the horizon, and the instinct recedes in favour of the warm, melting sensation his fingers disseminate through your bones.
“I deserve someone who will be good to me,” you repeat, like a mantra. “I deserve someone who’s going to make me happy, and keep me safe.”
“That's right,” says Joel, brushing his thumb along the veins in your wrist. You feel the shiver, but you're locked to him, your eyes unable to take in any information apart from the way he feels, looks, smells. “You're a good girl, baby.”
Your lashes flutter and a sweeping rush of pressure descends on your core at the way those words sound on his tongue. You picture him directing you to your knees and calling you a good girl while you take his big cock between your lips, imagine the way he would hiss through his teeth, good fuckin’ girl, that’s it, baby girl, while he fucks you from behind, merciless. Hands and tongues and limbs would mould into one another, amalgamate, becoming indistinguishable.
He would be good to you. You know it. He’s always been good to you.
“Joel?”
“Hmm.” Fingers still make idle patterns on your forearm.
“I think you should take a look at my sink when you get a chance. It might be broken.”
No amount of coy suggestion could make him ignorant to your desire for closeness. You can feel your body screaming for it, grasping at him with buffed claws. Joel smirks, looking down at your foot making a path up and down his ankle.
“I’ll take a look tomorrow.”
~
It’s two o’clock in the morning when a shuffling outside your bedroom door guides you out of a decent sleep. In total silence, the most minute noises can be deafening. But it sounds, to your sleep-addled brain, like the hasty retreat of footsteps.
You blink awake, shifting onto your other side to peer above the darkness of your doorway. Through the bleary haze in your eyes, you notice a tiny red light in the upper corner of the room.
You squint, rubbing your eyes furiously to pry them open wide, but your vision is the static grain of an old television, and your eyes refuse to adjust. Instead, you grumble, pulling your comforter over your head, and go back to sleep.
You’ll tell Joel tomorrow.
THE LANDLORD
He cannot wait until the morning.
The nighttime, he discovered long ago, is a friend. It’s the gentle descent of darkness, the horizontal fall of the golden-hour sunlight scanning the entirety of the apartment before it at last succumbs to silent, tar-black night. Occasionally, a car will pass below, or the honk of a horn will tear jaggedly through the quiet, but most times, Joel can sink comfortably into the dark and assume his post.
Six months ago, he showed some restraint.
Of course, the connection was instantaneous—the pretty girl standing in his foyer with a radiant smile on her face, drinking in the chipped paint and ancient railings and furniture imprinted with years of use, arrested all movement of his heart. You wore a white dress and a pair of strappy sandals, not suited whatsoever for walking the city but perfectly tailored to make an impression. You arrived punctually, all smiles and handshakes and Southern politeness despite your insistence that you'd left it all behind. You shone. And when Joel slid his rough, work-worn hand into yours, dipping his gaze to watch the way he dwarfed your fingers, he felt a tremor roll gently from your body to his, thunder over a mountain. He wanted to chase the next lightning strike.
It began leisurely, like a hobby, something he could go to when life got a little much. He watched you come home, examining the way your shoulders rounded slightly when you were upset and the way you wiggled your fingers in a wave to those passing by when you were happy. He watched, typically from the garden out front, as you pranced about your balcony on cool mornings to the electronic croonings of Britney Spears, curled up in a chair with a blanket over your legs and a coffee mug warming your hands, or watered your thriving plants from where they hung in the direct morning sunlight. Your day-to-day became his day-to-day.
And then, he was doing more than merely watching. He was following.
Your favourite coffee place by the apartment building, just a block away. He lingered far behind that first morning, his fingers twitching in your direction before the rest of his body steered him. The neighbourhood wasn't so great back then, prone to muggings and the like. He wanted to keep you safe. That was all.
You ordered something cold, too sweet for his tastes, and sat for a while as you worked. The barista spent the rest of your time there eyeing you up whenever he could. Joel scoffed. He wouldn't know what the fuck to do with you. Just a goddamn kid.
He followed you to work and back, on those rare days he wasn't occupied maintaining the grounds. You sat in a corner cubicle with a decent amount of sunlight and typed away on your laptop all day. Joel monitored the company’s publications just so he could have a glimpse of the way you wrote; he wasn't interested in makeup, but he bought a subscription to Viva because he wanted to trace his fingers over your name in those small italic letters. MANAGING EDITOR.
Your writing is clean, efficient, and smooth. It reads like velvet. He keeps a pile of magazines and newsletters tucked in the back of his bookshelf. For the August edition, they printed your interview with a local prizewinning novelist; you beamed in the picture, photographed in your favourite coffee shop, so happy and so generous, sharing your talent with others.
He was so fucking proud.
Five months ago, he watched you bring a date home for the first time.
It blindsided him. He could not prepare, plan, or sabotage. He could not do a thing as you guided the man—a fucking kid with a too-big ego, grinning smugly for his imminent conquest—inside the elevator. Joel could only watch helplessly, wiping his brow from his precarious place on the ladder, as you walked past him with no more than a soft, sweet smile. He never forgot the painful imprint of that smile on his eyelids. It still burns his eyes late at night, when he stays awake inside his office, monitoring his dual screens. He will pinch the bridge of his nose and close his eyes just to replay the memory of that look.
The kid left the next morning, before you woke. He never contacted you again. You trudged into the lobby that day, a weariness in your eyes that did not match the vibrant colour of your dress. You spoke idly to another woman in the elevator about your broken thermostat, hugging yourself to keep warm.
It was working perfectly a few hours later, and there was a bouquet of roses waiting for you at the concierge’s desk. Fiddling with the red ribbon, tears welling in your eyes, you asked who the admirer was. Sam shrugged his shoulders, but when you turned to look out the front windows, you saw Joel tending to the red roses in the garden bed.
It earned him the first taste of your baking. Biting into one of those moist, warm brownies felt like melting a little piece of you down and moulding it into the shape of his mouth. It felt like taking a piece of the girl he’d coveted for weeks and rolling it over his tongue, keeping it. Swallowing it down. There it rested inside his stomach until the next time he did you right.
He wanted to tell you no. To insist that he would do anything to make you feel good even if you wanted nothing to do with him. To make it clear that he did everything for you, not for some feeble professional relationship between a landlord and his tenant. He breathed you. He needed you.
So, four months ago, he began to watch you through the cameras.
They’re small, discreet, tucked into holes in the wall that have been spackled over, repainted, re-sanded. He ran the wiring while you were at work, listening to your CDs on loop to get a better sense of the earworms you hummed on your way out the door every morning. One in the living room, one by the entrance, and one in the bedroom.
He could keep you safe this way. This way, he would know if those men you brought you home were treating you right—fucking you like you deserved.
You were so goddamn pretty when you came. For months Joel had sat in his office, slicked-up cock in his hand, jerking himself hard and fast to the pictures of you in Viva. For months he’d spilled over his fingers, on his belly, on the glossy pages of the magazines. The heady, cloying scent of his own sweat and cum stuck to his nostrils. It wasn’t enough. He could imagine wrenching open your tight little pussy all he wanted—the slow, heavy drag of his cock between your hot, wet walls and the sweet noises he’d steal from your tongue—but it wasn’t the satisfaction he needed.
Joel needed you. Your body, your smile, your voice. He needed to wrap you tight around every vein, a tourniquet, squeezing until all feeling was lost.
You would be his, in time. He just needed to make it so.
The first time he watched you pleasure yourself, rain pattered gently against the window panes and thunder echoed in the distance. A couple grids had already lost power, and Joel had a backup generator if the apartment was next, but you did not seem to mind one bit that the storm drew closer. You clicked off the television, retired to the confines of your bed and its soft white linens, and slipped your hand beneath your flimsy shorts. Joel sat upright, his back creaking in protest, his knuckles white around the edge of his desk as he watched, unblinking, the way your fingers gently circled your clit.
He didn't touch his cock once that night, no matter how deeply his own need tugged at him. He couldn't look away from the camera feed for fear that he may miss the moment you reached your orgasm.
When it arrived, it was delicious to watch. Your back arched, your lips parted, and your eyes fluttered shut, fingers rapidly rubbing your slick pussy as you seized under your own ministrations and slowly settled, melting into the mattress. He needed to see more. He needed to be there.
You were a chiaroscuro of savoury, sultry magnetism and the ichor of the morning sunlight. You were kind and thoughtful. You were gentle, patient, attentive. You were one hell of a baker. You were so fucking sexy it made his tongue prickle with the prospective taste, the anticipation of touching your soft skin engulfing any sense. Reason had no place in Joel Miller’s mind when it came to the sweet girl upstairs.
Three months ago, you had recovered from the evident betrayal inherent in expecting more from your date than a one-night stand. The next man was older, a partner at a law firm, and took you to dinner at a nice restaurant. He asked questions about you and reciprocated your enthusiasm for good cuisine. He was kind and treated you well. But an incendiary rage ignited in Joel at the sight of the bastard’s hand on your lower back. Another man was touching you. Another man was getting close to you, making you smile, whispering in your ear. Another man was attempting to claim what was rightfully his.
Joel followed your date home that night instead. He lived in a high-rise downtown, the sort of building that had a doorman and a valet.
Joel followed him down to the underground lot with a lead pipe in hand.
“‘scuse me.”
He shut his car door and turned around, giving Joel a polite smile. “What can I do for you?”
A calculated sheepish scratch on the back of his head. “Just… ah, shit, I don’t mean to bother, but my engine isn't turnin' over and my phone died. Mind if I used yours?”
He patted his pockets for his cell and gave it enthusiastically. Joel did not take the phone. He used the proximity to pull the man close and bring the pipe down across his head.
Blood bloomed, pretty and potent and rich as the roses he planted for you. The body made little noise, the skull shattered upon impact, the legs crumpling. It could never have been much of a man, going down so fucking quick. Should've put up a fight.
The man must not have liked you very much to let himself die. Joel, whose eyelids were tattooed with your radiant smile, would have crawled his way back out of a certain grave. Joel loved you. You belonged to him. This was a necessary consequence.
The pipe was dented by the time he was finished. Joel sank to his knees once the body fell, bringing it down again and again, the meticulous arc of the rusted metal uniquely stirring. It felt so fucking good, battering the skull to pieces, blood and brain and bone fragments accumulating on the ground and the pipe and his face. It felt good knowing he had kept another man from betraying you, hurting you, fucking you only to leave in a blur. He was being altruistic. He was becoming a good man for you.
Joel, kneeling in the pool of warm blood until his jeans were soaked crimson, rubbed his hand down his face and smeared the blood across it. Chest heaving, he let the grin stretch his face.
He had found his calling.
Two months ago, he slipped inside your apartment while you were asleep.
You had a rough day. Your boss insisted the company could not afford to give you a raise despite skyrocketing share prices and all the fucking work you’d done for them. The rain started just before you left the building, holding back tears, and a car splashed icy, muddy water on you during your walk home. Salt in the wound. You were sniffling as you let yourself into the apartment, your hands trembling with the effort of shouldering your bag and your misery. Joel approached you from behind and lifted the bag onto his shoulder.
“Hi, Joel.” Sad and soft and still so polite despite it all.
“Hey.” He opened every door for you on the way to the elevator and rode it up with you for good measure. “Wanna talk about it?”
You just shook your head and sidled up next to him, your cheek resting on his shoulder. He held his breath, overcome with the sensation that if he moved an inch, the spell would break, and the comfort you sought from him would slip between your fingers. Your arm brushed his, your dewy lashes fluttering as you finally let yourself relax. Joel inhaled, and the scent of you cleaved him down the middle: rain and perfume.
“Would you give me a raise?”
He looked down at you and smiled. “For a batch of those cupcakes, I’d give you whatever you like.”
It was a half-truth. He’d give you whatever you wanted, cupcakes or no. The sound of your laughter dripped into his bloodstream, saline. It cleansed him of the wrongs he'd committed. He was doing what needed to be done. The world had to realise it turned for you, and then all would be right.
Hours later, when the sun finally dipped below the horizon, shrouded by distant skyscrapers, he sneaked his way inside. His master key made easy work of the lock, but he had to pull the chain lock off with a pair of pliers because his hands could not reach between the gap. He made clinical work of it and stepped inside.
There was a chair in the corner of your bedroom for days you felt like reading by the window. Joel lowered himself into it and began his vigil.
It was a science to study the way you slept. He began to learn the patterns of your breathing, the minute movements of your limbs and how they translated to the moods of your dreaming. The amount of times you turned around, groaned, or hummed correlated directly to the sort of day you'd had. He began to map your tells in his head, drawing them out, formulating blueprints of the simple things that made you.
To Joel, it was like connecting a red string between thumb tacks, like pouring the varnish over a finished painting, sealing a promise, closing an envelope. He enjoyed the satisfactory slotting of each puzzle piece into place, creating your image, finally knowing you.
By then, he’d caught the virus. He’d let himself get close, and now he was infected with it—that insatiable need to be near, to watch, to admire from mere feet away.
He continued to acquaint himself over the weeks with your sleeping self to supplement the time he could not spend with you while you were awake. On more than one occasion, he got careless, letting himself succumb to sleep in that corner chair, joining you in the dream world. In those dreams, you were wrapped up in his body, warm and soft and tight, and he was taking. He was behind you, on top of you, beneath you, forcing you to look in the mirror as he spread you open on his cock and wrapped his fingers around your throat. In those dreams, your eyes rolled back and your lips moulded to the shape of Joel, yes, oh my God, and he'd whisper back to you—my sweet girl, my good fuckin’ girl, all mine.
And you were. You were his.
Tonight, he followed you to the festival.
He watched you make a beeline for the necklace you wanted only to pout when you saw it had disappeared. He watched your face fall as David’s rejection sank bone-deep. He reeled in his own gnawing rage, pushing deep down that urge to storm right in and rip out the asshole’s throat with his goddamn teeth, and waited until you called him.
He knew you would. You trusted him. You needed him. You needed a strong, capable man to take care of you the way you deserved. So he waited inside his truck by the phone, happy to at last hear your sweet voice on the other end of the line.
Thank you, Joel.
He tucked those words under his ribs, letting them flower and spread. Those words gave him purpose, made him buzz with erratic energy, validated all his actions. He was doing everything right.
Your dress was so fucking pretty. Jesus, he wanted to slip his hands under the hem, finger the waistband of those pink panties he knew you were wearing, and bunch the fabric up around your hips as he stuffed you full of his dick. Fuck, he would fill you up with his cum and tuck your panties back over your abused pussy, keeping all of him safe inside. You’d be so happy. You’d get drunk off his cock, begging for it, crying for it. He’d give you everything.
You do feel safe with him. You said it yourself.
Now, leaning against the doorway in your bedroom, Joel turns the heart-shaped pendant over and over in his palm, rubbing his thumb over the smooth gold surface. It’s cool and quaint and will kiss your skin beautifully. But he needs to wait for the right time. He needs to make sure you’re ready.
The sense memory of your fingers on his skin, gracious and gentle, the way you always are, is pushing at the edges of his control.
There's no one like you. He’s never been more certain of anything.
You're so goddamn sweet in those tiny silk pyjamas, your body curled up on the bed and your leg slung over a large pillow. You may feel cold and lonely at night, but that's only for now. He won't let you feel alone much longer; his body calls to you, singing your name. He has only so much restraint, and he's been waiting for six months.
Your lips are slightly parted, your face smooth and serene under the spell of sleep. You're the reason he fixes what's broken. The world needs to be better for you. It needs to be safe and bright and perfect.
He planted tulips today. You’ll appreciate them, he thinks. He wants you to wake up to vibrant colours every morning and go to sleep knowing that he thinks about you.
You shift slightly in your sleep, a soft moan leaving your mouth as you hug the pillow closer. Joel straightens in the doorway, wondering if your mind can sense him nearby. He doesn't know what he would do with himself if you were dreaming about him. His eyes move from your pretty face down your chest, barely concealed by the tiny top you're wearing, to find the apex of your thighs, temptingly spread on the mattress.
He won't. He can't. You’ll never trust him if he loses himself to desire. Joel grits his teeth, his cock achingly hard in his jeans, and unbuckles his belt as silently as he can. He pulls out his dick and squeezes himself at the base, staving off what he knows will be a too-fast orgasm. You move again, your body stretching out on the bed. Joel spits into his palm and begins to stroke his cock.
He can see a sliver of your waist where your shirt rides up, half of your ass where your leg is slung over the pillow, and your tits smushed together just over the hem of that scrap of a top. You're all of his fucking fantasies rolled into one. Joel breathes hard through his nostrils, his fist tight around the tip of his cock.
He wants to shuck down those little shorts and put his face in your pretty pussy. He wants to grab your hips and guide his cock inside you. He wants to slide into your addictive cunt until you forget your name. Until you forget every name but his. Your soul will be stained with him. His has never forgotten your shape.
God, your tight pussy would feel so fucking good around his cock. He jerks himself roughly, bracing his hand against the doorframe when a little whimper leaves your mouth. Fuck, he mouths, gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw begins to ache. He fucks his own fist, sloppy and unrefined, eyes fixed to your waiting pussy between creamy-soft thighs. His cock dwarfs your slit, eager to spread you open—he’ll fix so nicely once he gets you ready.
Joel feels his stomach tighten, his balls pulling up, his jaw taut as he brings himself to a high over your body the way he has so many times. He switches so he can jerk off into the hand around which his gift to you is coiled, spilling his cum all over his fingers and the necklace as he bites into the heel of his palm. His spine decompresses and his cock slowly softens in his hand, the tension briefly relieved. His fist gradually loosens around the cum-slick necklace; the heart has imprinted its shape into his palm.
You stir, turning over in your bed, and Joel hastily departs, tucking his cock back into his jeans. He has enjoyed this brief interlude, but he has work to do.
Besides, he’ll see you in a few hours. He knows damn well the sink works just fine, but he’ll take any excuse to see you again. And it seems you’ll do the same.
~
Joel keeps him in a spare apartment in the building, one whose walls have been padded for soundproofing.
Joel’s sleeves are rolled to his elbows and he's occupying the chair across from David, who's taking his sweet fuckin’ time waking up. Joel’s been pacing for a half-hour, rubbing his fingers over his bottom lip, contemplative, but the bastard won't move.
So Joel takes a seat, grabs a fistful of the kid’s hair, and yanks it forcefully so he’s staring him right in the face.
One eye is already blackened—Joel got a little carried away. The sedative worked perfectly, but David has a punchable face. It took all he had not to keep going.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” says Joel as the kid slowly blinks awake, bleary and unfocused. “Eyes on me, now. Don't want you slippin’ away again.”
David only stares for a moment, gears grinding gently to life in his brain Once that animal instinct kicks in, the kid starts writhing against his restraints, bucking hard in Joel’s unrelenting grip. It's useless, of course. He’s tied by the wrists and ankles. Helpless.
Good.
“What—why the fuck… let me fucking go, man, please,” groans the kid.
“You made a mistake, David,” says Joel. “Think I’m gonna forget about that?”
David whimpers, flexing his hands subconsciously as pain undoubtedly prickles his scalp. Joel hasn't let go of his hair. “Please just let me go, man. I swear I didn't do anything. If you want money, I’ve got money.”
Joel smirks, a scoff slipping out. This is rich. The delectable flame licks up his throat again, indistinguishable from the pleasure of a good meal, a good fuck. It's craving. It’s darkness. He sinks deeper.
“You think it's manly to leave your date for your friends and leave her to find a way home herself? You think it's funny to treat her like a little toy and then leave her when you're done?” Joel sneers. “You didn't even call her back, David.”
He whines out another please, his ankles ineffectually kicking out. “I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Just let me go. Fuck, it hurts.”
“You don't know,” says Joel, repeating it, slow and savoury, rolling it around in his mouth. “You wanna know the most insulting part, David? You don't even care. You made her upset, and you didn't get on your goddamn knees to beg her forgiveness. You didn't do everything in your fuckin’ power to get her back.” Joel brings the knife from his pocket and idly pushes the tip into David’s cheek. “You think she ain't worth that, David? Tell me the truth, now.”
David shrieks, hysterical, the terror and pain so fucking delicious that Joel gulps it down and yet still wants.
“Are you fucking kidding me? No bitch is fucking worth it. She was cute, but that's it, I swear. I didn't know she had a boyfriend. I wouldn't have—”
The knife digs, gouges, splitting skin and prodding muscle. Joel can feel the edge of the blade slot between the kid’s teeth. He howls, screaming for help to nobody that can help, not quite gone enough yet to realise his utter hopelessness. Joel will have to rectify that.
“Oh, I ain't her boyfriend yet,” Joel says calmly. “But I am hers, way she's mine. And you hurt what's mine. I can’t forget that.”
The knife retreats to admire its handiwork. The cheek is split, the edges jagged, spitting blood. The kid’s tears slip down his face and dip into the wound, salty enough to hurt. He screams and he cries and it’s beginning to get on Joel’s nerves.
“Please stop,” he cries, watching his assailant rear back and grip the knife tight, like an ice pick. “Please… fuck, please—!”
He’s getting real sick of that word. Please. A mere please can’t excuse the look he put on your face last night. A please will not absolve him of the cardinal sin.
No one—no one—makes you frown.
Joel sinks the knife into David’s knee, using both hands to drive it to the hilt. The kid’s face is ashen, white and grey as clouds rolling in, and his frail screams begin to peter out; he’s losing consciousness. Joel won’t have that—not until he’s finished.
“Stop whinin’, David. A real man falls in front of his woman and makes things right. A real man fixes what's broken. And a real man”—he twists the knife, gorging, glutting on the feeling of making amends on your behalf—“does everything in his power to show her he loves her.”
“Please…” The final, feeble attempt of a doomed man to return from the cliff’s edge.
Joel stands, adjusting his grip on the kid’s hair, and brings his knife just beneath his chin. When he drives it upward, he can see the shimmer of the blade through David’s slack, open mouth.
“I told you to stop whinin’.”
~
He’s in your bedroom again.
He felt the need calling to him, vibrating with a particular intensity he could not ignore. He rarely comes to see you twice in one night, but now that he's here, he knows it was the only way to settle his nerves.
You're asleep, lips parted against your pillow and a piece of hair fluttering in front of your face with every exhale. Joel approaches your bedside and tucks it safely behind your ear. You don't wake, but you hum sleepily, hugging your pillow closer. Joel smiles, satisfaction sinking deep and assured into his core. He's done right by you. You’ll go happily to him. Moth to a gemlike flame.
He wanders around the edge of the bed, gaze lazily indulging in your body as he goes. His cock twitches again with a need he cannot yet meet, the desire to move your panties aside and fill you with him. He does not. He kneels at your bedside, closest to where your legs have scissored apart beneath your sheets. The temptingly sweet call of that warm place between your thighs has Joel shifting your comforter aside and ghosting his fingers across the soft skin of your calf.
Your breathing deepens slightly, like you're sucking in a long mouthful of air, and then you settle. It's the only indication you give that you can feel his presence. And then it’s gone, and he’s hooking his fingers in the waistband of your pretty panties and bestowing upon himself what he's only seen through screens for months.
You're spread open and glistening, an indication of some preceding dream or fantasy playing out in that keen, busy mind. Your body is wholly pliant, so soft and glowing in the faint silvery light streaming in from the window, and it would be so easy to—
No. He will not taste you. If he does, he won’t stop. You need to trust him. There is blood on his hands that hasn’t yet washed clean, and he will not imprint those rust-red fingerprints on your body. You’re his world—what kind of man willingly imparts such pain onto a world he loves?
Some infinitesimal fractal lodged in Joel’s head obliged him to return to you tonight, to cleanse himself of the events that transpired under the illicit cover of night. The very sight of you reminds him what he’s doing this for. He crushes his nose into the wet spot that darkens your panties and inhales deeply, acquiring some sense of what you will taste like. The smell makes his head go fuzzy, intoxicated, tang and sweetness and impending gratification. In your sleep, you sigh, melting against the mattress.
Joel brings your panties back up over your pussy and thinks, Tomorrow.
THE TENANT
You're miserable when Joel knocks on your door the next day.
“He hasn't called me,” you tell him, letting yourself stew, sulking from the feeling of yet another man deciding you weren’t worth a follow-up phone call. “Am I repulsive? Am I a total freak? Is it something in my perfume?”
Joel looks down at you, lips parted as if on the precipice of a response, sweeping his gaze up and down your body. You’re wearing a simple sweater and skirt, but fuck, he can make you feel naked. His gaze penetrates deeper than flesh. It’s only then you realise he’s holding coffee.
Two cups of coffee.
“Oh, Joel,” you sigh, licking your bottom lip. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” he says with a crooked smile, his voice a bit raspy, as if caught off-guard. He hands you your favourite drink—caramel macchiato, double espresso—from your favourite place down the block, and you could kiss him with how good it feels to hold the cool, condensation-slick cup in your hands. Your entire body deflates with the first sip.
“You’re my hero,” you tell him. “I mean it.”
Joel shakes his head fondly. “You got a funny sense of heroics.”
“They taste exactly like this,” you say playfully, tracing the rim of the plastic cup. “Thank you, Joel.”
He swipes his thumb across your chin. “It’s only coffee, baby.”
Since last night, something is inexplicably different. A new, once-forbidden boundary has been crossed. It may be technically inappropriate for your landlord to bring you coffee, touch you so intimately, call you baby. But it makes you feel like warm melting honey, and who is to say a feeling like that is wrong?
He’s wearing a blue T-shirt today. His hair is tousled like he slept on it, and your fingers tingle with the anticipatory sensation of how it would feel to take fistfuls of his locks in your hands. He’s stunning. And you catch yourself staring too late, tearing your gaze away the way one retracts their hand after burning it on the stovetop. Your heart skittering, you direct Joel to the sink and plan some excuse in your head for why it has miraculously fixed itself overnight.
But he doesn’t even spare a glance toward any of your appliances. He’s only looking at you.
“I got somethin’ else,” he says, almost shy, reaching into his pocket for a tiny box.
He grimaces when your eyes, wide and obviously panicked, meet his. “Jesus, I didn’t really think about how this looks. I’m not… proposin’, I swear.”
You both release a nervous laugh, but you cannot deny that your nerves are still fluttering at the sight of that simple suede box in his big hands.
He opens the lid and you gasp. It’s your necklace—the very same heart-shaped pendant you had been eyeing up at the festival. It’s shiny and polished and precisely, undeniably, the same one. “Oh my God,” you whisper, gently sliding your finger over the cool golden pendant. “It’s beautiful. Joel, how did you…”
“Turn around,” he says softly, the gentle direction guiding you better than any hand could. You obey, and Joel steps forward until his hard chest is flush to your back. He’s warm and sure and smells so good—cologne and coffee and mint and something potent, like iron—and all your questions fizzle to sparks in the air. You can no longer grasp for them. You reach out and you only find him.
His touch is careful. The heart-shaped pendant settles against your breastbone and shimmers in the afternoon light. Your chest briefly shimmers with the thought that you were made to wear this necklace. His large, rough hands ghost across the back of your neck as he secures the clasp, and you shiver. A single knuckle trails slowly down your spine, bumping every vertebrae on the way.
“It ain't your perfume.” His deep, grumbling voice is equivalent to the scratch of his beard against your temple as his jaw moves with each word. “And you're nothin’ close to repulsive. Look in that mirror and tell me what you see.”
There is a mirror, a full-length one by the entrance to your apartment, and it's surreal to watch your own body turn to face it, to watch yourself defer entirely to the man behind you. It feels nice to just let him steer you every which way.
“I see you,” you tell him, your hand lifting to the pendant on your throat. “And this.”
Joel clicks his tongue, his nose sliding up your temple. “What else do you see?”
You watch your lashes flutter, your head listing slightly to the side. “I see myself.”
“Hmm.” It’s a sound of approval, his palm now sliding around your waist and his arm banding across your body. He presses his hand to your hip bone and pulls you back against him. “Such a beautiful girl in that mirror. Ain't that right?”
“Joel, I…” You can feel his swelling erection prodding your ass and your head feels hazy with a heady, lustful desire you can no longer ignore or dismiss. “I don't think we should be…”
“No?” His mouth curves against your temple and you shiver at the coarse scratch of his moustache on your skin. It feels deliberate, premeditated. “I won’t tell a soul,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking your hip right where the hem of your sweater begins to inch upward. You can see a strip of your own bare stomach in the mirror. He’s making your eyes droop, your lashes flutter, your body light up from one nerve ending to the next, a closed circuit.
Oh, God. His touch is measured, gentle yet barely restrained. It is dipping a finger into the water just as it nears its boiling point. Months of staring and dreaming and retreating to your bed to touch yourself to thoughts of someone you cannot touch have led you here: his necklace, his gift to you, sitting prettily on your throat, his capable hands moulding you slowly to the shape of him. He’s touching you.
“You like me?” His voice rubs hard on your ears, sanding you down, smoothing the rough edges. He lets you linger on the precipice, a firm grip on your hand, letting you make the choice: to let go, or to reel yourself in.
“I like you,” you whisper, snapping the tether and plummeting to the warm, wet earth below.
You watch Joel’s eyes close in the mirror, something like a prayer falling from his lips. It does not take the shape of words—it is gruff and yet soft, hardly loud enough to discern over the ringing in your ears—but it’s so reverent that you can picture yourself falling to your knees at the sound of it.
His hand skims up your waist until he finds your throat, gently pinching your jaw so he can direct the turn of your head. You go easily, tilting your gaze back to rest your temple on his shoulder, as his other hand slides up from your hip to your ribs, grazing the underside of your breast. “You like me enough to touch you like this?”
You gasp, finding an anchor in the deep brown—nearly black, now—of his eyes. They’re warm but they’re dangerous; once you look, the cage door slides shut, and you’re trapped.
This must be one of your many dreams.
“Yes, Joel.”
“Mmm.” He smirks, teasing his tongue across his plush bottom lip. You watch the movement and feel yourself tightening, want want want a chorus in your ears. “You wanna kiss me, baby girl?”
Silently, you nod, your fingers gently sliding through his silky locks while your other hand seeks the strong balancing force of his shoulder. His smile sobers to a deep, stunning severity, and you cannot think to let it frighten you when you’re already slanting your mouth over his.
It starts slowly. His mouth is soft, his hands deftly returning the fervour with which you hold him, cupping the back of your neck with his other hand warming your ribs. A small gasp escapes you, and a rumble of satisfaction passes from his chest through yours, and it flips an ineffable switch inside him.
Joel turns you in his arms, his chest pressed to yours, his hand shooting out to brace against the wall as he walks you back toward it. Sufficiently cornered, you let your body melt into him, his palm now warming your lower back, his tongue feverishly seeking the seam of your lips. You let him pry you open, tasting the coffee and mint on his breath and inhaling the rich scent of him, sticking it with greedy hands to the walls of your brain. You’ll never tire of him, of this.
He kisses you like a glutton seeking more fulfilment, like an aesthete seeking that exhilarating, fleeting moment in time, desperate and unwavering and famished. Tongues slide together, hands grope and wander, fabrics shift. You can feel your sweater lifting at the same time your fingers finally find the hem of his T-shirt, but he beats you to the chase. You’re dizzy by the time he breaks away to remove your shirt, but you dutifully lift your arms to help him.
You seek his mouth again to resume the kiss, but Joel is decidedly feeling pious. He kisses his way down your throat, the necklace dangling from it, your sternum, your belly, sinking to his knees as he goes along. His hands are firm on your hips, squeezing, keeping you in place, while his mouth draws a map of you, eliciting the honeyed sensation of warm water dripping down your body.
“Oh, God,” you whisper, your head knocking back against the wall. It's so much. You've never been the object of attention quite like this, the marble statue at which the devout kneel, obsessive in their worship. You've never had a man fall to his knees to put his mouth all over you.
Has he wanted you as long as you’ve pined for him?
Joel grunts, his lips dragging open-mouthed kisses from one hip to another, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your skirt and yanking it down. You yelp, grasping his shoulders.
Joel only growls into your skin, his hands dropping to your ass and kneading you while he continues down past your hips. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he grumbles. “So goddamn pretty. Don’t know how I waited this fuckin’ long. Jesus, baby girl, you're perfect. Goddamn perfect.”
His ramblings are poison. Every word infects, squeezing out your healthy cells, replacing them with the delicious scrape of fire against the ceiling of a room. The scratch of his beard. The sweet nurturing sound of his voice. The cared-for sensation of being kissed and touched and spoken to like you're someone worth a second date. Like you're worth the price of all the world and a couple stars, too.
And so the words slip out, shy and whisper-quiet and your cheeks burning hot enough to blister.
“Please, Daddy…”
Joel’s hands tighten on your body, a fractional movement that kicks up the frantic beating of your heart. He tilts his head back to gaze up into your eyes and you feel more naked with that single stare than ever before.
“That what you need, sweet thing?” he says, pressing his lips to your inner thigh. “You need Daddy to make you feel good?”
“Mhm,” you whine, the pitch of your voice pathetic and needy. You watch him crush his nose into your inner thigh, nipping at your sensitive flesh, and his name leaves your mouth in a sob.
“‘m gonna need words,” he commands, biting you again in reproach. “Talk to me, baby girl. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to make me come,” you plead, grasping his soft greying hair in your fingers. “Please.”
“You gonna call me what you wanna call me?” he prompts, smacking your thigh. “C’mon, baby, lemme hear it.”
“Daddy!” you cry out, your hand tightening in his locks. “Fuck, Daddy, please make me come.”
Joel growls, bringing your soaked panties down your legs. Your knees nearly knock together, but he’s shouldering his way between them, bringing one up onto his wide shoulder. You're spread open like this, bared plainly for your landlord to feast upon at his will. The sight of his lips parted, waiting and ready to take your pussy into his mouth, has you trembling.
He gives a slow, experimental lick, sliding the flat of his tongue through your wet slit. You shudder, your head lolling against the wall. One teasing drag of his tongue and you’re butter, humming and whimpering for more, Daddy, please as he takes his fucking time tasting what you have to offer.
“Goddamn sweet,” he grumbles, his blunt nails digging crescent moons into the flesh of your ass, pulling your body flush to him. “Waited so fuckin’ long for this.” You watch the fire ignite from red- to blue-hot in Joel’s eyes, his gaze shuttering as he loses himself, devoted entirely to the process of unravelling you.
The next time he dips his tongue between your folds, he does it deliberately, calculated, as if he has already memorised your shape and now seeks to pry you open. He parts your lips to make way for his mouth, hot and soft against your clit. Softly, you cry out, watching as he presses a featherlight kiss to your pearl. You try to grind against his face, needing more, but a resounding slap to your ass stops you dead.
“No takin’ what I don’t give,” he says. “You understand me?”
You pout, but you nod your head anyway.
He decides it isn’t good enough and abruptly takes your clit between his teeth in a scolding bite.
“Repeat. It.”
“I’ll only take what you give,” you tell him. “I’ll be good.”
Apparently satisfied, he hums, diving back in and finally—finally—sucks on your needy clit. “Oh!” He’s eager, sure, but he’s practised. He’s meticulous in the way he applies pressure to your clit, lapping at you greedily and pulling back to draw your pleasure into measured tidal waves. You crest only to recede from shore, and then his lips suction to you again, his hand snaking around to your front and pressing down on your lower belly.
“Fuck!” you squeak, your stomach tightening as the dizzying pleasure overcomes you. “Joel, I’m gonna—!”
The orgasm pulls you under, drowning you with a forceful hand, your lungs sucking in mouthfuls of air. You seize, your heel digging into Joel’s muscled back, your fingers fisting his hair, your cunt clenching desperately around nothing, begging to be filled. Joel keeps his mouth on you all the while, licking you through your high, and you think it’s a benevolent act until your orgasm gently fades and he continues to make out with your pussy as if it never happened.
“Ah! Joel, please—” It’s so much. Too much; your pussy contracts relentlessly at the endless attention from his tongue, happily licking your clit and relishing the faint throbbing underneath it. It’s like he’s starved. His eyes are closed, his beard glistening with your wetness, his fingers dimpling your flesh as he pulls you right along to another high.
Two thick fingers gather up the juices you’ve leaked onto your thighs and push them back into your hole, insistent in their desire to enter. You gasp, your heart in your fucking throat: “That’s only two?”
He chuckles, but the vibration only makes you jump, letting his fingers sink inside your cunt to the knuckle. “Oh, fuck, fuck, Daddy, that feels so good, please make me come again, I need it, please—!”
Joel groans into your pussy, curling his fingers toward him so they press against a spongy spot inside you that sends your head spinning, your mind folding in on itself. All you know is the next orgasm, the best way to get him to give it to you, the fastest way to reach that indelible place once more, just once more—
Joel’s hand applies more pressure to your belly, and you scream, clawing desperately at his shoulder as you give yourself over to something much, much stronger than an orgasm. It’s foreign, the creeping sensation of an invader taking up residence in your body. You cannot see, cannot hear. It assumes control, tearing a cry from your mouth and locking all your limbs tight and splashing your wetness all over Joel’s chin, beard, shirt.
You think he only stops because you begin to list; he catches you around the hips and presses a soft kiss to your used little clit. “Mmmmm,” is vaguely how you manage to thank him, your eyes peeling slowly open.
“I know, baby girl,” he says, stroking your hip bone with his thumb. He litters kisses all over your thighs, coaxing you through the minute twitching of your muscles as they relax. “You did so good for me, pretty girl. So fuckin’ beautiful. My sweet girl.”
You shiver in his grasp, watching as he makes his way back up your body. He swipes his forearm across his wet beard and you moan a little at the sight. “Nobody’s ever…”
Joel crowds you, his hand cupping the back of your neck so he can guide your gaze up to him. “That's what you don't understand, sweetheart,” he says. “You can try to find another man to make you happy, but he won't be me. I’m the only one who’s gonna treat you right.”
“Joel…” Sense begins to push at the edges of your brain, but you only slump further into his touch, letting him secure your hair behind your ear. “This isn't right,” you whisper. “I pay you every month to live here. People will know. People will talk about me.”
“People have suffered worse for a hell of a lot less.”
You have no time to decode his words because he grabs your hand and presses your palm over his chest. Beneath the shirt and the warm, tanned skin, you feel a strong, rapid heartbeat, hammering away at his ribs. He maintains eye contact, the gaze incisive, peering right into the cluster of wiring inside your head that calls his name. “You feel my heart and you tell me this ain't real. You think this ain't love? You think it's obsession? Infatuation? Think I can’t see you lookin’ at me the way you do?”
His words pin you to the ground. They’re possessive, covetous—jealous. He wants you, and he knows you want him. All these months, he’s wanted you the way you’ve craved him; all the comforts and the roses and the baked goods in lieu of payment for substantial repair jobs; the times he’s let slide some late payments because I know it’s tough sometimes, the inexplicable kindnesses in your everyday.
Joel Miller dedicated himself to you the second you arrived to see the prospective apartment.
“You’re mine,” he says, his thumb stroking your jaw. “And I wanna hear you say it.”
People will call you a whore. They’ll think you’re pimping yourself out for cheaper rent. They’ll send you filthy looks. But the man in front of you makes you feel wanted. Desired. You’re better than all the dates that failed. You’re better than a shitty boss who won’t give you the raise you deserve. Joel is good to you. He’s always been.
“I’m yours, Joel Miller,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now please take me to bed.”
He grins, taking your hand and leading you to your bedroom. You get grabby straight away, fingering the hem of his shirt with a pleading look in your eye. You can still see the evidence of your orgasm staining the collar. “You can take it off, baby,” he says with that cocky smile, letting you lift the shirt over his head. In the sunlight, the grey in his hair shimmers, and his chest is bared to you. You lick your lips, placing your hands on his broad shoulders just to feel the way your palms contour to his dips and curves.
You lean in and put your lips to his neck, tracing the shape of him down to the hollow of his throat, He tastes faintly of fresh air and sweat, and he smells like you. Your hands admire the warmth and strength underneath them, his body so tangible when only yesterday it was a distant dream. He lets you indulge, though his hands flex at his sides, and your fingers fumble with his belt buckle.
“Help,” you mumble against his chest, bumping your nose into him. Joel chuckles, relieving you of your burden and shucking off his belt. It clinks along the floor somewhere nearby, and you can unbutton his jeans to bring them down, freeing his hard, throbbing cock.
Your mouth waters at the sight. He’s thick and slightly curved, the tip leaking precum onto his belly, his balls heavy with the need to come. During those long nights after long days of work, you would imagine, for hours on end, what lingered just below his belt; the little trail of hair leading down his soft belly to your destination; the way his wide shoulders would bracket your body, shelter you from all the tough shit you could possibly suffer. You would picture all the ways you could thank him. You bite your bottom lip and ready yourself to sink to your knees, but Joel is having none of it. He attacks your mouth, kissing you deeply, his hands sliding up your back as if he's trying to count every vertebrae. He doesn't relent even when your knees hit the edge of the bed and you collapse backward onto the mattress. He only crawls over you and pins you beneath his hard body.
“So pretty like this,” he says, lowering his head and nudging your chin upward with his nose to give himself better access to your throat. He sucks and nips at you all the way down, pausing at your heaving breasts. His fingers gently toy with one stiff nipple while his mouth occupies itself with the other, teasing it with his tongue and his teeth. You moan softly, content to watch him explore your body, squeezing your tits before he migrates downward.
“Daddy,” you whisper, stroking his hair away from his face, your head falling back onto the pillows as his fingers part your folds once more. “Fuck, please, touch me. I need you inside me.”
Joel settles in between your open legs and takes his cock in his hand. You mewl for him, determined in the face of his big cock to fit it nicely inside you. “Mmm, you ready for me, baby girl? You need Daddy to fill you up, use you like a pretty little toy?”
You’re nodding frantically, the words igniting you. “Please take me.”
Joel slaps the head of his cock against your clit, once, twice, watching your thighs twitch. Spreading the slick wetness from your pussy onto the tip, he finally guides himself to your hole and notches just inside.
“Jesus,” he utters. “Jesus, you're a fuckin’ dream.”
“It’s real,” you pant, “I’m real.”
He begins to disappear inside you, wrenching you open, your poor pussy disused from going so long without decent sex. You feel the pinching pain give way to a delicious pressure in your core as he eases into you, taking it slow despite his taut jaw, his gritted teeth. Your cunt forms a tight seal around his length, your arousal lubricating his entry, and you feel lightheaded. He’s so fucking big—and he’s still going.
“Oh, my… Joel—”
“I know, baby.” He brings his thumb to your clit and helps you relax with every circular swipe. “I know what y’like.”
You keen up against him, your thighs squeezing his hips. He's only halfway inside you and it feels like being filled up to your throat, choking on the air you breathe. Your head falls back, your hands flying up to your tits and squeezing.
“Daddy…”
One of Joel’s hands overlaps yours where it grasps your breast. “That’s my girl. You can take me. Always knew you could.” Still, he's panting with the exertion of holding back.
“You thought about me?” you say coyly, trying to pull him deeper inside you. He obliges, if only because you're being so petulant, and his hips finally knock into yours. You release a bone-deep sigh of relief.
“All I do”—his hips thrust shallowly, baring his teeth as he paws at your thighs—“is think about you.”
You cry out at the angle, the depth he reaches, how thick and heavy he sits inside you. Your pussy sucks him in, begging for more, and Joel obliges by hooking his hand in the back of your knee and pushing your thigh toward your chest.
Your vision whites, a ragged cry leaving your mouth. “Oh, fuck! Yes, yes, yes, that feels so good—”
“‘s right, baby girl. I’m the only one’s gonna fuck you this good,” Joel grits out, dragging his thick cock along your walls, spreading you open, forcing himself to fit. The head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust, measured in their intensity, just enough to drive you up the goddamn wall but never enough to sting. “I’m the only one you want.”
Your mouth is open and his pounding urges a steady rush of ah, ah, ahs up your throat. Joel leans over you and tilts your head back with a hand in your hair to slant his mouth over yours. He lets you pour your cries into his mouth and he swallows them down, fucking you so hard that your hips begin to ache.
He smatters your jaw with sloppy kisses. You lift your hand to his face and trace the patches in his beard, your brows drawn together in your perpetual haze.
“I dreamed about you,” you whisper, taking his earlobe between your teeth to make him growl against your skin. “Touched myself thinking about you.”
“I know,” he says, his hips grinding hard against yours, rubbing up against your used clit. He answers your gasp by nibbling your throat, and you keep him fixed to you with your hand at the back of his neck. His soft hair is matted with sweat and you want to bury yourself here, etch the shape of him into your stone. He's strong, capable, so present in this moment that your heart begins to throb to the beat of his.
Joel surges upward and takes you with him, forcing you to sit on his lap. At this angle, his cock reaches deeper, somehow, your mouth falling open and your forehead dropping to his shoulder. His palm is a soothing presence on your sweaty back as he tells you things that make you flush from your chest to your ears.
“Thought about takin’ you on the goddamn bar last night,” he grunts, guiding your ass in a rolling rhythm along his lap, his cock gliding slowly along your walls. You moan, your thighs shaking around his hips. “Thought about spreadin’ you over my desk and fuckin’ you dumb with my cock.”
You sob into the crook of his neck, grinding down on his cock, the pressure of his navel against your clit sparking hot in your lower belly. “What else?” you ask, nipping at the strong muscle where his shoulder meets his neck. Your tits are pressed up against his chest, his warmth engulfing you, your body slowly lowering over him as he guides you the way he likes.
His palm coasts down your spine until he finds your puckered asshole. His name is jagged and rubbed raw on your tongue.
“Shhh, baby girl.” The pad of his finger teases your hole with just enough pressure to ooze electric ecstasy down your spine. “Feels good, doesn't it?”
Fuck, his voice is so gentle, so knowing. You curl your fingers in his hair, your nose tickled by the locks that curl over his ears.
“Mmmhmm,” you mewl, lifting your hips as best you can despite the growing aches, telegraphing your desire to be touched by him—played with.
“Thaaat’s it,” he coos, his nose nudging your cheek as he turns his head. His finger continues to prod your asshole while his hips buck up into you. “Openin’ up for me like a good girl. You’d let me take you wherever I want, hmm? Whenever I want?”
“Yes, Daddy, yes,” you moan, your mouth perpetually open against the skin of his neck. You can’t think. You can't breathe. You can only drink down mouthfuls of him and let your body succumb to the delicious weight of his cock inside you. “Yes, I’ll be your little slut. I’ll be whatever you want. You make me feel so good.”
He seems pleased with your babbling, grinning into your cheek as he keeps you spread wide and pounds up into you. His finger continues to tease your tight hole until he feels your body contract around him and apparently decides that he isn't quite through with you.
“Turn around. Hands and knees.”
Who are you to refuse?
You lament the brief loss of his cock as you shift into your knees, resting your forearms on the bed and teasing him with a wiggle of your ass. Joel hums appreciatively, sidling up behind you and grinding his hard cock between your asscheeks. You jolt forward, but he catches you around the waist and warms his palm at your ribs.
Something warm and wet lands in a glob on your asshole, and you realise he fucking spit on you. Your head spins, dizzied by your own arousal, and soon, the warm, wet head of his cock slips back inside your hole, and you relish the refuge of being taken by him all over again.
“You wanna know what else?” He begins to fuck you hard and fast and almost angry in its intensity. His thrusts knock against your ribcage and rattle the bars, your heart floundering for a way back to the surface. “I thought about knockin’ on your door every goddamn day and putting my dick in this pretty fuckin’ pussy. Thought about your tight fuckin’ body every single time I saw you walk by and a long time after. I thought about the noises you'd make and Jesus, I was right. So goddamn sweet.”
You’re drooling onto the pillow, your eyes rolling back in your head, your fingers uselessly clasping handfuls of your white sheets. Joel is an animal, mounting you from behind and taking you hard, deep, the slick squelching noises of your coupling so crude and indecent that they burn through your ears like a lit fuse. It's wrong. You never should have kissed him. But wrong shouldn't feel like this.
Wrong shouldn’t taste like mint and coffee, shouldn't smell like roses and sawdust. Wrong shouldn’t feel like his cock sitting snug inside your pussy, some obscene jigsaw, seeping saplike pleasure down your spine.
This must be right.
His hands are rapacious, one wrapping around your hair and the other guiding the bend of your back, arching you perfectly to fit him while he takes you the way he likes. “Such a tease in those pretty dresses. Such a prim and proper girl ‘til she gets the right dick. You’ll get on your knees for this dick, baby girl, won't you? You’ll beg for it like a goddamn whore.”
“I will!” you moan, your cheek pressed into the mattress. The force of his thrusts have you travelling up the bed in minuscule movements, his thighs slapping hard against yours. “Fuck, I will, Daddy! Please, Daddy, I wanna make you feel good, I’ll do anything.”
“You're doin’ such a good job already, sweet thing,” he says, using his leverage on your hair and your waist to yank you upright, his chest pressed to your back, your ass now firmly sat in his lap. You moan long and low at the new angle, your back arching and your toes curling.
Joel groans against your jaw, his mouth travelling along the line of it in sloppy kisses that indicate he's about as close as you are. “Yeah, baby. Fuckin’ drunk on my cock. Fucked you good and dumb, hmm? Fucked you so good you can't even think.”
You can only manage a low whine, the sound of it a fleeting puff of air from your lips, the oxygen in your lungs depleting and replaced with the smell of him. You try to bounce on his dick—you really do try—but you cannot remember how to work the muscles in your thighs. You cannot remember what you had for breakfast nor the colour of the skirt you wore today. You can only vaguely understand the shape of the man behind you, the name that belongs to him, the way you curve and fit into him. You’re falling, the technicolour world outside your window fading to the sound of soft, beating wings—that may be your heart, fluttering in your ears—as you seize, yielding to the pleasure.
You will not recall the sounds you make when you come, grasping blindly at his thighs to keep yourself from falling over, your ears ringing. You feel his moustache scratching your jaw and his cock working you through your high, slowing his thrusts to help you land softly on solid ground. You may cry out his name, and you may call him something else entirely. But it's vibrant. It's radiant as the sunlight now dipping behind the distant buildings. It tastes just as sweet as the golden hour.
Joel does not stop fucking you when your body goes limp in his arms. No, he resumes his brutal pace, using you like a fucking toy to get himself off. You happily take it, your head lolling back against his shoulder and your eyes drooping.
“Nnh, fuck… I’m gonna… Jesus—oh, fuck—”
His hips press flush to your ass and he nuzzles his face into your throat, depositing kisses and love bites all over your skin as he pumps shallowly into you, his hot cum filling you up and leaking generously around the seal of your cunt. You gasp, your fingers threading through his already-tousled hair, keeping him glued to you as he flexes against your body and comes hard enough to double himself over.
He collapses on top of you, forcing you to bend at the hip, little puffs of air escaping his mouth and seeping into you. You whine, your sore hips battered and bruised, your pussy deliciously abused as you pulse continuously around his dick. “Joel, please…”
He comes slowly back into his body, his lips trailing down your spine as he lifts himself upright. “Shit. ‘m sorry, baby girl. You feel okay?”
You hum happily, letting yourself pant into the mattress. “Feels so good.”
Joel pulls out, savouring the tight drag of his cock out of your pussy, hissing through his teeth and watching his thick cum dribble slowly out of your hole. “Such a fuckin’ pretty sight. My sweet girl, all used up.”
You drop your face into your forearm and giggle. Joel smooths his hand over your lower back. “What's so funny?”
“Just…” You sound a bit hysterical as you continue to laugh. “I’m going to be late on rent this month. I put a down payment on a car.”
Joel lowers himself next to you and gently pulls you into him, his moustache tickling your cheek. “Planning on gettin’ the hell outta dodge?” he says playfully, nipping your earlobe.
Your eyes droop and you sink into him. “Think I’ll stay here for a while.”
“I know you will, baby,” he murmurs.
“Joel?”
“Hmm.”
“Thank you for the necklace.”
~
It’s night when you next wake, and Joel is next to you.
For someone so stern and strong, he looks utterly serene in his sleep. His lips are slightly parted, half his face pressed into the pillow, his hair curling around his ears and his arm lazily draped over you. You gently sweep a lock of hair away from his face.
Through the dark, the red light beams, and the arm around your waist tugs you closer.
THE END.
#kiwisbell's fics#pedro pascal#joel miller#the last of us#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#dark!joel x reader#dark!joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#tlou hbo
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hii can I get whiskey w Steve Rogers for oral/face riding?
Adjusting.
warnings - smut. cursing.
nomad steve makes me feral. that's all. I was feeling this one.
3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.
He's adjusting, to this new life.
He's shy. Taking it one day at a time. Reminding himself to breathe when things get overwhelming.
Soon, he finds his feet. Regains his confidence. Starts asking for things, setting boundaries, taking what he wants a little more.
He keeps surprising you. With his knowledge, new slang he uses, his ability to use a phone. He's a fast learner.
He's braver, now.
He's adjusting.
Trying to get used to the fact that women aren't as seemingly fragile as they were. They run the world more openly, now, and Steve loves it.
He loves you.
Tries to show you how much when he's got you between his sheets, kissing every inch of skin he can find. Gentle, tender, careful.
You tell him that you know he loves you, no matter what. He doesn't have to be so tentative. It doesn't change the way you look at him.
He's in a lust fuelled haze when he finds the courage.
"Sit on my face."
You choke on your breath, gasping for air.
"What?"
"You heard me, honey. Sit on my face. Now."
You've never seen him like this. Frayed at the edges, feral almost. His eyes are as dark as the wet spot between your legs.
You quirk a brow at him in challenge, but he doesn't back down. So you grant him his wish. Crawling up his body until you're hovering over his pretty face, deep gaze focused on you.
"Is this what you want?" you whisper.
"More than anything."
He's practically growling, voice lower and rougher than you've ever heard it. You owe a thanks to whatever has got him so riled up.
He tugs you down to his mouth with two strong hands around your thighs, grip hard enough that you know you'll bruise tomorrow. You can't wait.
You tangle your fingers through his golden blonde locks and tug, whining when he groans, from the depths his chest. The two of you are animalistic, finally tapping into the carnal desires that have been there all along.
You're practically riding the gorgeous ridge of his nose, reveling in the way his tongue slips inside and curls. He might not have much experience with this, but he's always been naturally gifted. He's one of those people that's good at everything.
He's groaning, humming, murmuring, enjoying this just as much as you are. Your hands almost splinter the headboard, skin pulled taut across tense knuckles. You're so close you can taste it, honey sweet and saccharine.
"Good girl. Good fuckin' girl. Come on my face, honey. Please."
It's the broken please that gets you, the desperation in his tone and the tightening grip on your hips. You see stars, dizzying and clear, blood rushing to your head. Steve doesn't let up, determined to see how pretty you look when he finally pushes you to your limit.
You collapse against his chest, leaning into his touch like a kitten. Rough fingertips trace patterns across your back, your arms, your hips. He's waiting for you to give him the green light.
You kiss him with force, tongue sliding into his mouth with no room for protest. You bite his lip and grin. America's golden boy. Lying under you with your come smeared across his face.
He leans up to whisper in your ear, rough tone filled with promise and mischief.
"I love you," he murmurs, tongue gliding across your neck. "Let me fuck you like I don't."
You've never been one to deny him. You're not about to start now.
He's adjusting, after all.
#murphy's 3k celebration#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers smut#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader smut#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x reader fluff#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel smut#captain america x reader#captain america smut
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Jason Attacking Tim at Titans Tower
Fanon vs Canon
We've all seen the versions in fanfiction but I'm not so sure everyone's seen the original so if you're one of those batfam fans who doesn't want to read the comics (regardless of reasons) but you are curious about how it actually went this is for you.
What I'm addressing:
What does Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?
Did Jason drug all the other Titans?
Did Jason really wear a Robin costume?
Did Jason slit Tim's throat or call him replacement?
Did Jason actually break Tim's bo staff?
Was Tim crying or scared?
Did Jason write a message on the wall in Tim's blood?
Did Jason's eyes glow green?/Did he follow pit rage mechanics?
Panels and details below. This is a LONG one.
What did Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?
Dialogue in fanfiction during the Titans Tower attack varies based on what kind of fic you're reading but usually its either 'time to clip Replacement's wings' if its staying a beatdown whump 'or oh no precious lil bby why is no one watching you' if its an accidental child acquisition. Not judging either option, but this ain't about them its about the real shit.
Look at these opening lines:
Hey, Tim. I was here first.You're the Red Hood. You've been cleaning up Gotham the easy way.
Easy? What do you know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You went to a private school, right? You slept in a bed. I slept on the streets, I lived in the alleyways in Gotham. Trying to survive. Until Bruce took me in. I trained as hard as I could. I did whatever he asked. . . at least at first. But it didn't matter. They said I wasn't tough enough to be robin. But today, they say you are. Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn't.
Jason really puts himself out there in all of his dialogue in this encounter, the struggle of having to fight for anything and everything he got in life, even the things that came to everyone else for free, and then being told he wasn't even good enough for the things he fought for.
There's a trope in fanfics that if Jason knew Tim stalked Batman and forced his way into being Robin that it would change how Jason felt about the situation but that's even addressed in this comic:
You were a kid, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the dark knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind that mask. Millionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I'm sure that you forgot who you were really dealing with. I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was stalking him for weeks. He'd know about it. You can't be that good.
I am.
He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you as he did to me, didn't he? That you had a talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder.
Tim saying 'I am' is really such a moment that doesn't come through in text because he is right that he really did do that but I also completely understand why Jason wouldn't believe it.
TBH my favorite part is how done Tim honestly sounds with Jason thoughout all his trauma dumping. Like imagine a grown man who used to work the same part time job as you breaking into your house, dressing up in your work uniform, ranting about how much the job ruined his life while he beats your ass??? God, and he probably had to write a fucking report about it after. RIP Timmy.
What do you want? Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You... want to take it away from me?
Why in the hell would I ever want that? Don't you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me.
Are you completely insane? No one could forget you. I've spent my entire career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you. You ask me, that's the only reason he hasn't taken you down. He's holding back. But me? No freakin' way.
That's the Robin I wanted to see. Still. You do realize the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake. It didn't even surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. I failed-- but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you really, Tim?
Yes.
Tim bashing Jason across the face as he says 'no freakin' way'? *chefs kiss*
Jason drugging the other Titans to knock them out?
Little bit true, Kory was actually just already away from the tower and BB and Cyborg were about to bounce because of the drama going on with Donna's return but Jason like super tazes them and then drugs Raven who he thought already went through enough shit without him knocking her out violently.
Note: Jason says in the text here that he never rolled with Cyborg or BB but like he actually did in some comics so?? The continuity is lie I guess idk.
Did he show up in Red Hood gear or a Robin costume?
Both tbh but he spent most of the time in the Robin costume but bro actually made a stripper rip away version of his Red Hood gear so he could dramatically reveal the Robin costume underneath. I can't believe no one ever includes that in their fics its so fucking funny.
Does he call Tim 'replacement' or slit his throat?
No, this came from a Batman comic with Hush not Teen Titans. That incident takes place in a graveyard not Titans Tower and he calls Tim pretender not replacement.
Does Jason break Tim's staff?
Tragically, no. The bo staff snap would have been iconic. Instead he just takes Tim's staff and beats Tim up with it and breaks stuff. BUT!! He uses it to bust a statue in the TITANS MEMORIAL ROOM which is a place in Titans Tower just for having statues of dead previous titans and Jason is rightfully pissed he didn't get one. Like Tim is correct in saying no one forgot him still but like I would be hurt too if all my friends made cool statues of friends that died and then just left my zombie ass out, like wtf.
Note: I am seriously losing my shit that I have never seen someone bring up the memorial room in a fanfic. That is so much angst material. 😭
Tim crying/ being scared?
Hell no. He's a fucking Robin you know he's being a sassy boy the whole time, even towards the end when he's about done he's still saying he's her and I love Tim for that.
Note: There are a few different times where Tim does a flippy Robin move and then Jason just fucking copies it like flexing that he can do it too, and its just so petty and stupid he's trying so hard to be better than an actual child. 💀I get why in the context of the situation but its still so ridiculous.
Message on the wall in Tim's blood?
TBH I really don't know for sure on this one?? Like its implied that he did but Tim isn't bleeding all that much throughout this beatdown and like we don't see Jason do it just the Titans reacting to seeing it after. It could be Tim's blood, it could be red paint, and it could even be that Jason packed an actual bucket of blood to bring with him to write a message with after he finished. TBH the world is your oyster on this one.
Note: If anyone can find another comic where this event was brought up where they actually clarify it was Tim's blood hmu and I'll update this but I couldn't find any.
Pit rage/ glowing green eyes?
Fanon only at this point in the comics. Jason is seems to be himself and even thinks Tim and his friends are pretty cool at the end, and he's just like reflecting on if he had good friends if he would have turned out better as he leaves.
#tim drake#jason todd#red hood#robin dc#teen titans#comic panels#jason and tim#teen titans 2003#dc comics#panels are from teen titans (2003) issue 29#i would never tell anyone they have to read comics but i do think seeing the original scene of fanon favs is good#not because you need to follow them but because its good to know what you're taking inspo from#jason attacking tim at titans tower#LONG POST
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Out Of Character - LN
Summary: Lando has never been the type to get violent even when he's got good reason and is provoked. But when y/n's ex-boyfriend shows up, he thinks he's got more than just good reason
Warnings: Lando goes into blind rage
No part 2 requests please
Y/n being freshly broken up and being thrust upon the single market via a night out, really it was the last thing she wanted to do. .
"Y/n...you look stunning." Lando comments as y/n appears looking down at her phone.
"He's not text me back." Y/n mumbles earning a frown. "God, I'm so pathetic. I get myself dumped because he finds someone better then I spend the next two days "
"Hey, don't say that." Lando scolds as Max and Pietra appear. "Can you guys please tell her that she's not pathetic and that he has hasn't found someone better?"
"You aren't. He hasn't." Max and P agree earning a look from the young woman.
"Phone." Lando demands holding his hand out which makes her eye it like he's holding out a poisoned branch at her. "Y/n."
"Fine." Y/n grumbles putting her phone in his hand before he slides it into his pocket. "I guess if I'm third wheeling with anyone, it's not the worst person in it being you."
"Thanks." Lando hums offering his hand while Max and P are already heading out since the Uber is there. "You're going to be alright, y/n. I'll take care of you."
"I know you will. You're not an asshole." Y/n smiles making him grin at her before they head out.
-
Y/n did feel her mood beginning to pick up and with Lando having hold of her phone, he did have to deal with Ben finally replying trying to win her back. Which if she'd seen the messages, Lando knows would've worked.
Ben is the most manipulative person Lando has ever met and it's not secret that she is without a doubt wrapped around his little finger.
But what Lando expect when he steps down from the DJ set is to find that y/n is bickering with none other than Ben himself. He must've arrived while Lando was distracted.
Y/n's got tears threatening to spill over while she finds her bicep in Ben's hand, even in the strobe lights and darkness, Lando can see the white knuckles giving away how tightly he's holding her.
But reaching her from the distance he's at, he doesn't have the time to fight through the crowds before she's being very aggressively yanked away.
"Max? Max. Ben has y/n." Lando exclaims spotting his friend on the way over as he tries to fight his way through the crowd on the dance floor. "He's just dragged her out."
"Shit." Max groans the looking at P. "Stay inside. I don't want you involved in this."
Pietra definitely looks like she's going to argue since she is friends with y/n too. But the expression on Max and Lando's faces stops her from saying anything, instead just nodding.
By the time the two have marched outside, there's a few people who seem to be watching the exes argue.
"You broke up with me! Did you think you think my friends are the type of people to let me sit and mope over you?" Y/n questsions, her hand over his own as she seems to pause trying to pry his hand from her arm. "Will you let me go? You're hurting me."
"You think I'm just going to let you open your legs like a whore for Lando to finally-"
"What are you talking about?!" Y/n exclaims, not bothering to temper her volume anymore. "Get off."
"Hey, get the fuck off of her. Why is she repeating herself?" Lando questions as he appears with Max behind him.
"Oh here he is, the man with a god complex. Here to save the day, hero?" Ben laughs while y/n grimaces at his fist tightening around her arm, as if to make a point.
"Lando, it's ok." Y/n whispers catching his gaze and shaking her head to try and dismiss his efforts. "I'm handling this."
"Mate, maybe we should wait for her." Max states but Ben speaks up.
"Yeah, mate. Not getting your dick wet in a whore tonight. Or not this whore at least."
Lando's not really sure what happened. He didn't see red. It was more like he completely blacked out in rage. The only sense he had was the feeling of pain shooting through his fist a few times. The feeling of bone under skin crunching from the impact.
The sound hits in the form over y/n's voice screaming as sets of hands scramble time yank Lando's body backwards.
Eventually he's slingshotted back landing on another body that cushions his fall. The haze of darkness that clouded his vision finally clears and y/n appears.
"Hey, hey. We need to get you out of here." Y/n states as she looks at him for a moment. "Lando, are you listening to me? We need to go."
"I got him."
"I'll catch up." Y/n nods as Lando looks down at his right fists which looks pretty battered and bloody. It's only then he looks behind y/n that he sees some security looking at Ben who is conscious, thankfully but it looks likes he might have a broken nose and maybe a broken jaw. "Go on, Lando."
"I'm not leaving you with him again."
"You've incapacitated him and made your point. He's not going to touch me. I just have to make sure he doesn't press charges against you. Can you please?" Y/n stresses not actually worried about about Ben but more for Lando's reputation.
"Come on mate, she's right. We'll wait for her somewhere else. Get you some ice too." Max states yanking Lando up to his feet but Lando looks at y/n.
"Take your phone. We'll be waiting." Lando states making her sigh and pick her phone from his pocket with a small smile.
-
Lando is sitting on the curb while Max goes searching for P, just in time for y/n to appear and sigh sitting beside him.
"I'd love to know what the fuck you were thinking." Y/n comments with a sigh then pulling Lando's iced hand to her lap, looking at the damage. "Zak is going to kill you...and then kill me for being the reason behind you decided to try and break a man's face."
"I wasn't really thinking. But I wasn't going to let him talk about you like that." Lando sighs shaking his head. "Did he hit me back?"
"Uhh...I don't think he had much of a choice." Y/n sighs then smiling lightly. "You went kind of feral. I don't think he was prepared for that."
"I don't think anyone was." Lando mumbles trying not to flinch when he feels her thumb brush over his knuckles. "I don't know what you saw him."
"I don't really like being alone. And the moments he was the good guy that I know and love-loved. Those moments were amazing. It's a lot easier to look in from the outside and cast judgement."
"You deserve better." Lando mutters shaking his head.
"Well in the theme of sounding cliche. I believe the saying is that we accept what we believe we deserve."
"Can't fault you for being wrong. Not everyone can be right all the time like me." Lando smirks while she laughs and sighs. "So am I being charged for assault?"
"No he's not that stupid." Y/n sighs softly before she watches his gaze flick down to her already bruising arm. "It's fine."
"Do you wanna stay at my place tonight? It's closer." Lando states earning a small nod before Max and P reappear.
"Oh god, what happened?" P asks rushing to the two.
"Lando happened to Ben. We should go." Y/n sighs looking at Lando as she stands up and offers her hand. "Come on, hero."
-
After getting back to Lando's they order food before Max and P head to bed, claiming they're tired but the drunk smiles and wandering hands definitely left no room for guessing.
Y/n had already changed into some borrowed Quadrant clothes and curled up into the corner of the sofa while Lando purposely squished up to her in his slightly drunk state just to really poke at her.
"I'm sorry you got involved." Y/n sighs shaking her head. "I forgot he had my location on my phone and he followed us from that."
"I stepped in because he was hurting you...and I don't really remember throwing the first punch. I just blacked out from rage in a way." Lando admits earning a frown from the young woman. "I just wanted to protect you from an asshole who never deserved you to begin with."
"You know you're sort of proving he had reason to be jealous and threatened by you when you go on like this." Y/n laughs lightly then shifting till she's at an angle to rest on his shoulder. "Are you going to fight the next one if he treats me badly?"
Now there is an opportunity here. A chance to do what he should've done before that asshole ever laid his eyes on her.
"I would never treat you badly...and it'd be hard to fight myself."
He feels her head lift as she looks at him, definitely in shock so he gives it a few beats before turning his head to look at her.
"Lando..."
"You can say no."
"But you know I won't." Y/n states then sighing. "You know, I convinced myself a long time ago that we would never be anything more than what we've always been."
"Why?" Lando frowns since for years he's hated holding himself back from it all.
"Because you've always been so work-focused and whenever we were together I mean we flirted but I guess I just assumed it was how our friendship worked." Y/n shrugs then groaning. "Fucking hell. Which one of us was blind?"
"You."
"But-"
"I always knew, but...I thought I'd let you figure it out." Lando cuts in then sighing. "Not my most strategic of moves, I'll admit but still."
"You're a dick."
"So...are we going to try and make this work or are we going back to pretending that it doesn't mean a thing?"
"After what you did for me tonight. I wouldn't want to think of you in any other way than less than a boyfriend. It'd be nice to have someone I know is worth my time."
Y/n grins climbing over him to straddle him and picking up his bruised hand, inspecting the damage.
"I'm still sorry." Y/n states earning a head shake.
"Don't be. So far it's all working out in my favour."
"Ever the optimist when you've almost broken your fist on my ex's face."
"I'd break it entirely if I thought it needed to be done."
Y/n hums before she sighs leaning to the side to look around him and check the time.
"I think it might be a good time to get ourselves to bed." Y/n smiles earning a grin from the F1 driver. "It's a good thing you have a couple more weeks till you are back in the car. Or I might actually need to worry for my safety when it comes to McLaren employees trying to snipe me down or something."
"It's bruised, nothing is broken so I'm fine." Lando smiles then raising his bruised hand up to her throat, feeling her pulse thrumming under his touch before he pulls her down into a kiss that really feels long overdue and as if a jigsaw piece has just fallen into place.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos
#f1#fanfic#formula 1#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris#ln4 x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando x reader#lando#norris#lando norris imagines#lando norris one shot#lando norris fluff#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fic#ln4 one shot#ln4#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 fluff#ln4 x you#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fanfic#mclaren#mclaren f1#mclaren formula 1#mclaren racing#f1 fanfic
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I need more of needy Bucky who loses control from the feeling of being inside your pussy. I need him to fuck me like a rag doll and to carry me over his shoulder around the house like his personal flesh light.
Fuck, this has always been one of my very favourites to write. I really like to imagine that he struggles to last but he can keep going after he finishes 🙈 it's my lil filthy fantasy
But imagine spending the morning in bed with him. You both wake up around 6am and you spend the first little while just touching and chatting before a couple of hours of sex. Now it's maybe around 11am and after lying there together for a while, you're both in the mood for something to eat.
You pull a robe around you and that's just about as much as you manage before Bucky's scooped you up, carrying you to the kitchen.
"You don't need to carry me everywhere!" You tease, remembering that he'd carried you up the stairs to bed last night too.
"I know. But. Carrying you means. I. Can put you. Exactly. Where. I want you." He peppers kisses over your face and neck, tenderly capturing your bottom lip between his before he sets you up on the kitchen countertop.
There's no point arguing with him so you sit there quite happily. He makes up a quick pancake mix, washes some berries from the fridge, preps the coffee machine and sets the little dining table for the two of you.
Somewhere in between, you got a little distracted, perched on the counter scrolling on your phone. You hadn't noticed the way he's looking at you.
He's so caught up in the little things; the way the light hits your shoulder, the curve of your hips, the way the silhouette of your nipples are visible against the satin robe.
"Look at you, sitting there all sweet like your cunt isn't so fucking full of me."
That's got your attention.
You squirm a little, your body fluttering at how shamelessly vulgar he's being but nothing's stopping you from doing the same.
You spread your legs, exposing the slick mess coating your inner thighs. It's a mixture of your own arousal and Bucky's cum, dripping out of your sensitive cunt.
Your fingertips trail lazily over your exposed sex, your skin glistening in the natural light before you bring your fingers to your own lips, sucking them clean, giving him a little bit of a show.
"Tastes amazing, sweetheart." You groan, noticing the growing bulge in his thin pyjama bottoms. "But I lost track of how many times you came inside me this morning. You came so deep, most of your cum won't have dripped out yet. Bet I'm still totally stuffed full."
He sinks to his knees in no time, settling his head between your thighs, breathing in the faint smell of your arousal. His tongue presses flat to your sex, trailing from your hole to your clit and back, gathering as much of your combined release as possible.
He groans, low and pathetic, allowing his tongue to dip inside you as deep as he can bury it. He savours every drop of cum he earns back from your body.
When his tongue alone isn't enough, he slips a finger into you, followed quickly by a second, curling them against your sensitive inner wall.
"Bucky baby, please don't make me cum again." You groan, your fingers tangled in his dark hair but you know he's not giving you that choice. Not when his free hand is furiously stroking his own cock, desperate to ensure that when he's finished licking his cum out of you, he can flood your cunt with another load.
#asks answered <3#becca writes spice#anon#needy!bucky#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky barnes smut#I've gotten so into Scandal again recently#I'm so so so into Mellie#holy shit that woman is stunning#I'd be so tempted to write some shamelessly filthy Mellie x reader#I like Fitz too but just imagine THE COMPETITION#right no I actually HATE picking a colour for a pedi#I get a gel pedi every few weeks and I really need colour suggestions#Last time I got a sparkly red#the time before I got white with a pearly kind of shimmer on top#I've liked both but I'm so bad at picking a colour#I know neons are usually safe in summer but I don't think I'd like neons on me#open to any other suggestions tbh
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Brain Scramblies
Joel Miller x Fem! Reader
Summary: Bubbly and sweet Reader slips and falls at Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party, hitting her head hard on the floor. Tommy tasks Joel, her grumpy patrol partner, with getting her home safe. In her dazed state, she spills to Joel how she really feels about him! Basically two idiots dancing around their feelings for each other
Word count: 3.6k
Warnings: Talk of traumatic brain injuries, but that’s it. Brief mention of smut but mostly goofy fluff. Joel is afraid of feelings lol
A/N: I actually don't feel fantastic about this story, but felt like you all deserved something new from me to satisfy the absence. Next week I'll have a bit more time to continue my bd!joel story and a few others! yes, the title is from wwdits. my other favorite show lol
if you like this story, please leave me a comment 🩷
masterlist
It’s a beautiful night, laughter and music fill the air of the Tipsy Bison bar in Jackson, Wyoming. It’s Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party and you were having a ball celebrating with the two of them. Tommy and Maria loved you, and you loved them. You often babysat their child, took care of chores around their home, and brought them baked goods and other treats. They loved you like you were their own.
The party was a blast, you spent the night dancing and chatting with Tommy and Maria and others. It couldn’t have been a better night.
Until you trip over your own feet. .
Boom. In one swift motion, too quick for your brain to process, your legs kick up into the air and your back slams the ground, your head following suit.
Your vision goes dark then, voices fading out. You feel a strong pair of hands grip your shoulders and jiggle your face slightly. You open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times, and the figure in front of you speaks. “Hey, now. Wake up, wake up, Jesus, girl. What did you do?” he asks, but his words sound muddled, like he’s underwater. “Maria, go get Joel. I think she might have a concussion.” he shouts in the opposite direction.
Your fuzzy vision focuses then and you recognize the friendly face and long black hair in front of you. It’s Tommy. You squint your eyes and look around, confused as to why you’re on the floor. The lights are blindingly bright and the music is blaring. It’s too much for your senses.
“Can you hear me, honey? You took quite a tumble and it looked like you hit your head pretty hard. Drink too much?”
You struggle to respond, finding it difficult to form words and coherent thoughts. You feel dazed and foggy and there’s a pounding throb at the back of your head. and “Think I tripped,” you finally mumble out, carefully prodding the back of your skull.
“Wouldn’t be the first time, you klutz,” he chuckled, tilting your chin and looking into your eyes. “Maria’s getting Joel, I think we’re gonna have him take you home. Infirmary’s closed at this time of night but we can get you checked out tomorrow, make sure you didn’t thump your head too hard.”
Joel. Your eyes widened at the mention of him. Now that was something your brain had no issue focusing on. “Your older brother, Joel?”
“Yes, Joel, my older brother,”
“I like Joel,”
“I know you do, honey,”
“I really like Joel,” you say through a long sigh. “Isn’t he just lovely?”
Tommy looks at you with an eyebrow cocked, completely amused by your honesty. Tommy and Maria had a feeling you were crushing on him, but you stayed tight lipped about your feelings for him. “Yeah, sure. Lovely describes Joel perfectly,”
Joel was your patrol partner. He was tall, handsome, brave, and skilled. He had the most gorgeous brown eyes you had ever seen, and the prettiest gentle curls atop his head. And he couldn’t fucking stand you.
You didn’t often go on patrol, but everyone pitched in with patrol around Jackson. Being so near and dear to Tommy and Maria’s hearts, they wanted the best for you and always put you on patrol with Joel. He’d keep you safe, they told you.
And he did keep you safe. But not without constant grumbling and griping about your sprightly attitude and constant chatter. He thought he had it rough with Ellie, but she was a walk in the park compared to you, with your sweet and pure heart and bubbly personality.
“What’s your favorite kind of cookie?” you asked him once while traveling horseback through a grassy meadow. It was a beautiful day, the clouds were big and fluffy and tall. The wildflowers were blooming left and right, painting the grass with violet and crimson. You held onto Joel tightly, pressing your face against his back. He tried his best to ignore how much he enjoyed the feeling of your arms around his stomach.
“You ask too many goddamn questions,” he grunted.
“That’s not an answer,” you scolded playfully.
Joel stayed silent. You were like an annoying, buzzing bee. If he ignored you, hopefully you’d go away. Easy, he thought. Just ignore the annoying, cute, thoughtful, and beautiful bee.
You asked him again. Maybe he didn’t hear you, you spoke into his right side after all. Still, nothing. “Joel?”
You could hear him inhale and exhale deeply. He was definitely ignoring you. That just wouldn’t do.
So you pinched his side.
He yelped in surprise. “Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I asked you a question,”
“I’m not answerin’,”
“That’s rude of you,”
“Yeah, well, tough,”
You pinched him again.
“Gaah!” Joel swatted your hand, nearly losing his balance. “Jesus, fucking snickerdoodles!” he hissed at you. Oh, how you got under his skin. Snickerdoodles were, in fact, his favorite cookies. He wasn’t just saying that to shut you up. His grandmother used to make them for him and Tommy when they were young. His heart broke a little at the thought of her, thankful she had passed long before the world went to shit. “Happy now?”
Yes, you were happy. You rubbed soothing circles into where you pinched him.
The next day, you whipped up a batch of the best snickerdoodles Joel would ever taste. You dropped them off on his doorstep and left, not alerting Joel or Ellie to what you had done.
Ellie was the one to find your cookies. “Joel, what’re these?” she called into their home, shoving a cookie into her mouth. Joel looked up, rolling his eyes when he recognized the treats in her hand. “Give me those,” he grumbled.
He took one cookie and examined it, then brought it to his lips. He took a bite, and melted when he tasted the sweet cinnamon and sugar cookie, so buttery and slightly tangy, just how a snickerdoodle should be. It was soft and chewy, just how he liked them.
And dear lord, it was orgasmic. The best snickerdoodle he had ever tasted. He prayed his grandmother up in heaven would forgive him for enjoying it so much, but this was definitely his new favorite. How dare you weasel your way into his heart with baked goods? What a contemptible thing to do. He felt his heart swell at the thought of you and your sweetness. And it fucking terrified him.
Joel put on his boots and practically sprinted to Tommy and Maria’s. Without knocking, he let himself inside and sat down at the table with Tommy as he tried to catch his breath. Tommy looked at him with wide eyes, completely perplexed by his brother. “You have to–” he stopped for a second, breathing in and out deeply. “You have to take her off patrol with me. I ain’t gonna be her partner anymore.” Joel’s heaving began to slow.
“And why would I do that, Joel?”
“She talks too much,”
Tommy let out a dry laugh. Joel Miller, ever the grinch. Heart two sizes too small. “Are we eight years old? Suck it up, big brother,”
Joel shook his head, squinting his eyes and squeezing the bridge of his nose. “She fuckin’ pinched me,” Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but Joel interrupted. “Twice!”
Tommy smiled at the thought of sweet little you pinching Joel. “I’m sure she had a good reason for pinchin’ you. What’d you do to her?”
“I didn’t–it doesn’t matter,” Joel sighed exasperatedly. He had a penchant for the dramatics at times. “You don’t get it. She made me cookies.”
Tommy gasped sarcastically. “No, not cookies. How horrible, Joel! What should we do with her, throw her in jail? Banish her? Feed her to lions?”
“Tommy,” Joel warned with a low voice. “I am not doin’ patrol with her anymore.”
“Joel,” Tommy warned back, matching his tone. “Quit your bitchin’. She’s a nice girl, and you’re gonna take care of her. She likes you, why, I haven’t got a clue.”
Tommy knew the real reason Joel wanted to stop patrolling with you. He was catching feelings for you. And Joel reacted exactly how Tommy expected. He was frightened of these feelings, terrified to let anyone new into his heart. He already made room for Ellie and her bad puns, he didn’t know if he had room for you and your snickerdoodles as well. He did. You were already there.
Joel and Maria appeared in front of you then, your eyes brightening when you met Joel’s sour expression.
“What’d you do now, trouble?”
Trouble. That was Joel’s nickname for you. When he and Ellie finished your cookies, he returned your container to you on your porch.
“Thanks for the cookies, trouble. They were delicious,” he said, his voice was low and gravelly. “Didn’t need to do all that for me.”
“Trouble? Is that what I am?” you asked incredulously.
“Yeah, actually. Pinchin’ me. Talkin’ too much,” Joel did his best to bite back the smile threatening to form on his lips. “And now you’re tryin’ to make me fat, so yeah. You’re a troublemaker.”
Your glassy eyes scanned his face. “What did you do now, trouble?”
Joel bent down to meet your gaze and Maria checked the back of your head for cuts or swelling.
“Maria says you’re hurt. What’d you do?”
“I tripped and fell,”
Joel scoffed. “Figures,” Joel pushed Tommy to the side, crouching in front of you. He took your face into his hands, checking for any other injuries. Your eyes were unfocused and pupils blown wide. He held a finger in front of your eyes, moving it from side to side. You had difficulty following the movement.
“Ouch,” you winced, feeling Maria’s fingers on the tender spot at the back of your head. “I think she smacked her head pretty hard.” she told Tommy. “Very swollen back here.”
“She’s not following my finger. Think it’s probably a concussion, but I don’t know for sure,” he said. “She seems pretty out of it.”
In your fuzzy state, you reached forward and held Joel’s face, mimicking how he did to you. “Handsome,” you murmured.
Joel felt his face go hot at your compliment. You thumbed his cheeks, savoring the feeling of his prickly hairs on your fingertips. “Uhh,”
“You’re so handsome,” you repeated. Not even drinking a barrel of whiskey could have pried that out of you. You did a number on your poor brain.
“That’s nice, sweetheart,” Joel turned his head to the side and coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. He gripped your wrists and pulled your hands away from his face as you pouted. “Think she needs to go home.”
“That’s right. You make sure she gets home safe,” Tommy said.
Joel looked up with a furrowed brow. “Me? Why can’t you deal with her?” his words came out more bitter than he intended, like taking you home was the biggest inconvenience of his life.
“Hey,” you whined. How rude!
Joel apologized quickly. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it like that,”
“Because it’s our anniversary, and I told you to keep her safe. Remember? Come on now, Joel. Be a gentleman,” Tommy motioned to Maria to help you up. Slowly, you stood up. On shaky legs, you felt your knees begin to give out. Joel lunged forward to catch your fall.
He rolled his eyes with a sigh. Joel held out his arm for you and you wrapped your hands around his bicep. “Can you walk for me, trouble?” He didn’t actually mind leaving the party early. He wasn’t having too much fun anyway.
“I’ll do anything for you, Joel,” you erupted into a fit of giggles. “You’re so strong!”
Joel felt his face go warm again as he cleared his throat. Wow, you really did hit your head hard. Joel was used to being flirted with, but this was an entirely different animal. You hit your head so hard it knocked your filter loose. What would you say next?
His eyes darted to Tommy and Maria, who stood there watching you both, smirking. “Take good care of our girl,” Maria ordered.
Joel begins walking slowly, taking careful steps. You stumble along and can hardly maintain your footing as you make your way out of the bar. You’re still giggling and squeezing his arm. “You are so strong and so handsome!” you squeal.
“Jesus,” he whispered to himself. Was this real you or concussed you speaking?
You walked silently for a bit, gaining a slow and steady rhythm. The world around you blurred and moved quickly.
“I have a crush on you,” you blurt out with slurred speech.
“That’s nice, trouble,” Joel said, not believing you. You might as well be completely wasted, the way you were making no sense.
“I mean it,”
“I’m sure you do,” Joel replied sardonically. You tripped again, nearly falling over a second time. Joel caught you and held you tightly. Frustrated, he groaned.“Alright, no more talking. We’re playing the quiet game the rest of the way home,”
“Seriously,” you giggle. “You’re so fucking handsome. You’re the most handsomest man I’ve ever met,” You kept walking and stumbling awkwardly. It was as if you weren’t even walking, just floating along. Your legs didn’t feel real.
“Thank you,” Joel mumbles. He was never good at accepting compliments. But you seem so insistent on informing him of his good looks, he might as well take the compliments in stride.
“You have such pretty brown eyes. Did you know that?”
“I did not,”
“You do. And you have pretty hair,” you paused for a second, catching your breath. “And you have a nice butt,” Joel rolls his eyes, biting back his smile. “I want to have sex with you.”
“Woah,” he barks at you, unable to contain his shock at your sudden boldness. Where is your fucking filter? Is this even real? Joel will be thinking of this night for weeks to come. “You have brain damage,” he tells you. “Need to stop talking like this,”
“You have brain damage!” You giggle, your feet crossing with Joel’s. Bam. It’s his turn to hit the ground now. You couldn’t walk in a straight line to save your life, even with Joel supporting you. “Oh, shoot. I tripped you.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Joel stands up and without asking permission, he lifts your body over his shoulder. He tries to ignore the fact that your ass is so close to his face. You erupt into laughter, absolutely tickled by his actions. “I know this probably isn’t great for your head, but we need to move. Almost home anyway,”
“Fine by me, handsome!” you poke his back and his sides. He’s trying to fight off the tingles your touch leaves on his skin. “Are you gonna take me home and have sex with me?”
“Behave,” he warns you. “No, I am not having sex with you. I’m puttin’ you to bed and going to try to forget any of this ever happened. Now quiet, you.”
You let out an angry groan, but oblige. You’re running out of steam, fogginess filling your head even more. You can hardly keep your eyes open.
Before you know it, Joel is at your doorstep and sets you down. “Where are your keys?” he asks you.
You slap your thigh, indicating that your keys are in the front right pocket of your jeans. Joel pulls you close and quickly pulls the keys out of your jeans, looking up into the sky to avoid your gaze. He’d need to drink an ocean of alcohol to forget this night.
Joel fumbles with the keys, trying each one and jiggling it in your door. He figured asking you which key was futile, you were so far gone.
As he’s working diligently to open your door, you can’t help but sigh in admiration. His back muscles tense through his shirt, the fabric stretching and moving back. And god, his ass. So round and plump in his tight jeans. You can’t help yourself. It needs to be pinched. “You really do have a nice butt,” you whisper.
You reach forward and pinch his ass with your thumb and pointer finger. Joel jumps and whips around. “What is wrong with you?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, but his frustrated heart softens when he sees your expression. You’re smirking, eyes big and without a single thought behind them. You have no idea what you’re doing. He knows that. The real you would probably die of embarrassment if she knew of your flirty and bold antics tonight. He can’t help the smile curling up on his lips. You have to mean all of it, right?. All the compliments and confessions. He knows they’re all true. At least, he hopes they are.
Joel grabs your hand and helps you inside. He leads you through your house, checking each door to find your room. He could ask you, but he really doesn’t want you talking. You need to relax.
Once he finds your room, he turns on the light, leads you inside, and helps you sit your bed. Your room reflects your personality perfectly, so bright and colorful. Decorations everywhere.
Then, he leaves.
You feel like crying. Your head feels so murky and full, and the pounding has worsened. “Joel?” your voice is thick.
No answer. He just left without saying goodbye?
Your bottom lip wobbles and you feel tears well up in your eyes as your heart begins to break. How did you even end up here? What even happened tonight? All you knew is that you felt cold and sick and all alone. Your head feels like it’s going to fall right off.
You sniffle and hear a thump in the distance. And then another. And another. They’re getting louder now.
Footsteps.
Joel returns and your heart blooms. He always kept you safe, even when you drove him fucking nuts. Of course he wouldn’t just leave you. You see that he has a glass of water in his hand.
He sits on the bed and faces you. You smile gently, admiring all of his features. His scars, his freckles. His sparkly brown eyes. His salt and pepper mustache. “You didn’t leave?”
“‘Course not,” he grips the back of your head softly and tilts it back, then presses the glass to your lips. “Gotta make sure you’re safe, right?” He doesn’t let you respond to his question and tilts the glass into your mouth, forcing you to take a little sip of water.
“You take such good care of me, Joelie,” His cheeks turn rosy at his new nickname. How sweet it sounds from your lips. He presses the glass to your lips again and makes you drink.
“You’re so handsome,” Sip. “Did you know I have a crush on you?” sip.
“I did, actually,” Sip. “Now drink. You need to finish the glass.”
Sip. “You have such gorgeous brown eyes. Like coffee beans,” you whisper. Sip.
“Is that right? Coffee beans?” Well, that’s a thoughtful compliment. He doesn’t bother hiding his smile anymore.
“Mhm,” Sip. “And your butt–”
“What about my butt?” he teases you with a raised eyebrow. You won’t remember any of this anyway, he might as well play along.
“Like a peach,”
“A peach, huh?” He presses the glass to your lips again, this time not pulling it away. You drink the rest of the water.
“What about a peach, Joelie?” you question. Your eyes are big and lost. It’s as if the last thirty seconds didn’t happen.
Your forgetfulness would have worried Joel, but he was no stranger to concussions. Had a few of his own. His daughter, Sarah, also had sustained a few concussions from flying soccer balls. She’d be like this too, acting goofy and speaking incoherently. She was always back to normal within a day or two. You would be okay too.
“Nothin’, sweetheart,” Joel lifts your legs onto the bed and takes off your shoes, plopping each on the ground. He pulls a knitted blanket over your body and gently leans your head back into your pillows.
You stare into his eyes, his gorgeous coffee bean eyes, let out a big yawn. Your eyes are heavy now and your head feels like a weight, like you couldn’t lift it even if you tried. Joel stares back at you, the gears in his head are spinning. He places an experimental hand on your head and combs his fingers over your scalp.
He continues stroking your scalp, soothing you. Your eyes fall shut, and within seconds you’re in a peaceful slumber.
He doesn’t leave. He stays with you for another minute, making sure you’re really asleep.
He still doesn’t leave. One more minute passes.
He’s still sitting there, stroking your head. He can’t bring himself to leave you. He needs to make sure you’re safe, just like Tommy and Maria told him to.
He’ll stay here all night, gently stroking your head and your back. Telling himself he’s just making sure you’re safe, that’s all. “Goodnight, trouble,” he whispers.
He’ll deal with his feelings later.
Part two: troublemaker
@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @venusdemonroe @guiltgoldglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @ihatespoilers @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @sesigsss @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @palomaluvsdilfs @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @jazzy-music-cat
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#the last of us#joel miller fluff#strang3lov3#the last of us hbo#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller#i love laszlo cravensworth#brain scramblies
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Light after Dark | Bucky Barnes
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 -> Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> You ex-boyfriend never treated you well but when Bucky steps into your life it changes and he shows you how much he loves you. Would the behaviour you had with your ex-boyfriend be there because Bucky looks distanced.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 10.057 (it’s long but worth it, guess so)
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) 18+, Minors DNI, angst, abusing ex-boyfriend, violence, slapping, shouting, wound/scars because of abuse, smut, non/dub-con, manipulation, blowjob, deep throating, nipple play, handjob (male!receiving), cum eating, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), protected p in v, multiple orgasm, belly bulge, praises, fluff
𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 -> Hello hello! It's me, again. Got bit of an angsty idea. Let's say that reader has an abusive ex, and this dude was physically and emotionally draining. She never had a single nice thought about herself in three years. She always thought she had big thighs, or wide hips etc etc. And let's say that she does have some scars from her ex, whenever he used to beer bottles at her they'd crash and cut her. She always thought she was not worthy, because he used to cheat on her all the time. Now, presently, we're with Bucky. And nowadays Bucky has been a little irritated and distant. And you think the worse, and your defense mechanism come up. Back with your ex, you used to cook good food and make so much effort (but your asshole ex never bothered) Bucky is confused why there's whole royal course of a meal on the table when he comes home. You don't want to point out the obvious and say it's for nothing, but it's really because you don't want him to leave. Bucky knows something is up, but how does he approach the situation???🤭🤭🤭This was pretty long lol (Again you don't have to write this if you’re uncomfy😌😌) Okie BYE!! @amathslutsguidetofandom
𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you so much for the request. I absolutely love it and I hope you like what I made with that. Also wanna thank my best friend @imtryingbuck for listening to me, and helping me with some parts during writing.
𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 -> Multifandom-Flash Bingo | 1008 | 1.1 | Cut his heart out with a spoon | @multifandom-flash | Fandom-Free Bingo: Valentines Edition | Row One-Two | Tracing Scars | @fandom-free-bingo
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
“Come one, can’t you get your shit together? It’s not that hard,” he shouted at you, throwing his hands up while he looked at you.
His expression was disgusted, and he was disappointed — because of you, like he always was. You just asked him to help you with the plates, but he was annoyed, mad that you couldn’t do it without annoying him. You didn’t want to annoy him; it was never your intention, but you’re tired — working hard in the household every day, sleeping only half of the night — and he never appreciates what you did. He wanted to have a meal — a proper meal — but you presented him with something he didn’t want to eat that day. How could you dare to cook soup when he wants meat?
“Take your plate and sit on the floor,” he told you, pointing next to him on the ground.
“P—please. I’m sorry,” you whimpered.
He rolled his eyes, and not even now have you done what he told you. Alex placed his hand on your shoulder, pushing you down until you were sitting next to him on the floor. He used his hand under your chin to tilt your head up, forcing you to lock in with him. Alex let go of your chin, smirking at you before his hand met your cheek painfully. You hissed, tears building in your eyes, but you swallowed harshly and looked down on your plate, which was lying in front of you.
“Shut your mouth. I don’t wanna hear a fucking word."
Your body started to tremble, but you stayed quiet. Alex laughed, turning to the plate in front of him and sliding the spoon through it a few times. He hadn’t tried the soup you cooked; he stared at the plate. That’s nothing a person like him would eat; Alex deserved better than soup. He deserved to be treated well. He turned his face, seeing you sitting in the same position since he smacked your face. You weren’t saying a word; your hands were shaking, and you tried to hide your tears. He took the plate in one of his hands, holding it above you. With a sadistic expression, he let the soup fall down on you.
“Oh— sorry. I forgot you’re not the trash,” he said.
You whimpered, feeling the hot liquid covering your body and burning your skin. Alex watched you and the way the soup soaked your clothes. He then stood up and pushed you to the side; you were curled up in yourself, crying silently while he just kicked you. Alex walked out of the kitchen, leaving you a whimpering and crying mess lying on the ground. Alex just left the house when you started crying more.
Almost half of the night you were lying on the ground, your body trembling, and you cried until there was no tear left anymore. You loved that man; you feel in love with him because he was caring; he made you feel good and appreciated you. But you feel like you were the reason for him being the way he is now. Maybe you were too fat, maybe your food wasn’t good, maybe you didn’t do things like you should do then? You often thought about it already — sleepless nights while Alex was sleeping next to you, smelling like a bottle of alcohol itself while he wrapped his arm around your waist.
Somewhere in the night, you heard the keys in the door. Your body tensed immediately while you pretend to be sleeping on the couch. Alex knew you weren't, and even when he would wake you up, he was drunk and frustrated.
“Babe, come here now. You little bitch,” he shouted through the house, and you sat up. “I won’t repeat myself, slut.”
You slowly walked toward him, holding your arms tightly around your body to cover yourself a bit. He grinned when he saw you walking closer to him; you look so small, while he felt so good looking at your scared form in front of him. Alex was holding a bottle of beer in his hand, and he took a sip, groaning when he noticed that the bottle was empty.
“Alex, y—you should go to bed,” you mumbled, and he raised his eyebrow.
You dared to say something, telling him what he had to do. He didn’t think twice when he lifted the bottle and smashed it against your head. The glass broke and left a bloody wound on your head. You whimpered and tried to hide the tears from rolling down your cheeks, but he saw it, and it made him chuckle even more. Now you knew that you shouldn’t tell him what to do, or else Alex would show you that you were his own little toy to treat and fuck you however he wanted.
“Get on your knees.”
“P—please. C—can I just clean the wound?”
“Get on your knees, or I will give you more than just this one to clean. Fucking little bitch,” he hissed, grabbing your chin harshly.
You whined, trying to turn your face away, but he was too strong for you. So you needed to look directly into his eyes while he leaned closer, and you smelled his breath — which smelled like nothing but alcohol. You pushed the urge to look disgusted away, but when he leaned even closer and captured your lips with his, you tried to pull away from him. His tongue slid over your lips, and when you weren’t parting your lips, he just smacked your cheek to make you hiss in pain. Then you opened your mouth, and he was able to guide his tongue into it. You felt disgusted, but you loved him, and when it was what he wanted, you wouldn’t deny it; otherwise, he would still do it. He has control over your relationship, as he showed you. Alex pulled away from you, leaving you panting while he smirked and pushed you down on your knees.
“Suck my fucking dick. Other girls would beg me to suck it, so why are you complaining about my dick, huh? Thinking you’re pretty? You’re not; have you seen your ugly, fat thighs? I would be ashamed to show them someone,” he said, and you nodded.
You didn’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks; you felt so ashamed and embarrassed for looking the way you do. With shaking hands, you gasped his belt and unbuckled it. Opening his pants before you shoved them down his legs. You saw the outline of his dick in his pants, but he wasn’t hard. When you looked at his dick a moment too long for his liking, he cleared his throat, grasped your hair, and pushed you closer.
“Do you really think I will be turned on when I see you? You’re just a little ugly slut,” he said, laughing about the tears in your eyes.
You knew you weren't the most beautiful person, but even when you heard that for three years now, it was still hurtful. Alex always told you that he could have everyone, that everyone wanted to be with him, but he was together with you, even when it’s just because you couldn’t be without him — that’s what he was always saying.
You pushed his boxers down as well, revealing his soft cock. Alex took his shaft in his hand, stroking himself a few times before he pulled you closer and tapped his dick against your lips. You opened your mouth slightly, and when he managed to push into you, he immediately rammed his dick down your throat. He never paid attention to how you felt when you had sex; he didn’t care. You gagged around his length, trying to get used to it, but he had already started to thrust into you. His cock always slid down your throat, and his balls slapped against your chin. His hand in your hair guided you over his cock, and he slapped your cheeks a few times, causing more tears in your eyes.
“You’re such a fucking little slut, aren’t you? That’s the only thing you can do. Sucking my cock."
Your nails were digging into your tights, trying to ground you while he held you on his cock. He was deep in your mouth and throat, and you tried not to panic, but when he didn’t let you pull back, you wiggled softly, trying to move away from his length. But he didn’t let you move away; he was holding you with his cock in your mouth in place. When he was finally letting go of you, you pulled away and breathed deeply, crying quietly, while he grabbed your chin once again. His eyes darkened as he looked into yours. And you knew you shouldn’t have tried to pull away from him.
“Do you wanna kidding me? Making a scene like that?” He asked, looking disappointed at you.
He didn’t wait for an answer before he pushed his dick back inside your mouth. His hips thrusted forward, he groaned, and you felt his dick twitch in your mouth just before he came in your mouth. His cum was sliding down your throat, and he pulled away, smacking your face again before he pointed toward the couch.
“A—Alex.”
“Can’t you just keep your mouth shut? You annoy me. You’re my girlfriend, and your boyfriend wants to fuck you now.”
When you woke up next to your boyfriend, your pussy was aching. He fucked you rough, never minding if it would hurt you or if you enjoyed this sex too. You were slowly getting up, and you felt disgusted with the mixture of sweat and cum on your body. So you walked to the bathroom, trying to be as quiet as possible to not wake him. You really needed a hot shower, so you did exactly that. A hot, relaxing shower was perfect for your arching pussy and your tensed muscles, but when you heard Alex shouting that the breakfast wasn’t ready, you panicked again. You should have done the breakfast first and then thought about a shower. He swung the door of your shared bathroom open, narrowing his eyebrows.
“Do you think you could take a shower before making breakfast for me?” He asked, and you shook your head.
“I’m sorry—“
He walked closer, towering over you and pulling the towel away, leaving you naked in front of him. Alex looked your body up and down, slapping your breast and causing you to gasp.
“Have you looked into the mirror? Look how ugly you are, and your pussy, only great because she is still tight,” he said, turning around to took a shower as well.
You wrapped your arms around your body, trying to cover it. He is right; you’re ugly, and you can’t even look at yourself in the mirror. Your body is covered with scars — scars he caused with beer bottles or when he just hit you hard enough. You bent down to lift your towel, wrapping it around you, and got out of the bathroom to change into leggings and a t-shirt. Then you made your way to the kitchen, preparing some breakfast for the two of you.
It didn’t take long until Alex walked into the kitchen. He smirked at you when you looked so small compared to him since you tried to make yourself small around him. And especially because he can see the respect or more fear you have in your eyes when you look at him. You placed the plates on the table, both of you taking a seat, and you ate in silence; you didn’t want to annoy him. When he was finished, he looked at you, shoving his plate closer to you.
"You already made better food. I want you to clean until I come home from the meeting,” he told you.
“Oke,” you said, taking the plates to put them in the other dishes to clean them later.
Alex went to work, and you needed to clean. You weren’t really motivated to do so, but you didn’t want him to be angry at you again. So you started in the kitchen and then went to the living room. When you were almost finished, you heard Alex coming back home, and your muscles were immediately tensed.
“Lunch?”
“I cleaned and haven’t-“
“I don’t mind. You have to bring lunch to the table, and you didn’t once again,” he said.
“Thought I told you that when you’re not doing what I said, I will break up. You want that? No? But you did it, no. Lazy ass didn’t do what she was told.”
You whimpered, but he shook his head, pointing to the door of the apartment. And grasped your arm to pull you closer to the door. It was raining outside, and you knew he didn’t mind; he would let you wait outside until he allowed you to come back into the apartment. Alex went back inside and left you in front of the door. Your clothes were immediately soaked because of the rain, and you felt the cold all over your body. You were freezing, but he wouldn't let you into the apartment until he wasn't mad anymore. So you sat on the ground, your back against the wall, and your legs were pulled against you while you wrapped your arms around them. You cried quietly, trying to warm yourself up a bit while the cold rain was wetting your whole body.
"Hi, are you oke? Aren't you freezing?" A soft voice asked, and you looked at the man in front of you.
He was kneeling, offering you his hand, but you just smiled at him. He saw that it wasn't a real one, but he didn't want to pressure you. His brown hair was as wet as you were, but he didn't mind. He also didn't mind taking off his jacket and placing it over your shoulders.
"Thank you," you mumbled.
"I'm Bucky, and you?" He asked softly, his hand resting on your knees.
The warmth of his body warmed you a bit as well, and his steel blue eyes and the smile on his lips warmed your heart. You admired his blue eyes; he looked soft and beautiful.
"I'm Y/N"
"And what is a pretty girl like you doing outside in the rain?"
You blushed and turned your face away. Bucky smirked, looking at you, while he tried to find out why you were sitting there with a bruise on your pretty face. He hadn't seen that one before, but when he did, he reached out to slide his fingers over your face to turn it toward him. You hissed, trying to escape his fingers even when his touch was way softer than Alex's. Bucky removed his hand and waited until you were ready to face him again.
"I'm sorry; I didn't know I would scare you. I don't want to hurt you, but where are the bruises from?" He asked, and you shook your head.
"Nothing, really. I just- I just walked against the counter yesterday. I was stupid and ignored the open door of the counter. And I'm sitting here because I forgot my keys," you tell him.
Bucky nodded. He didn't really believe you, but he didn't want to push you either. When he noticed someone opening the door behind you, he got up to face the person behind you.
"You little slut, didn't I tell you to get pizza?" Alex asked, ignoring Bucky, who furrowed his eyebrows.
"Alex, you didn't say that you wanted pizza," you said quietly, looking at your hands.
"Don't dare to talk back, or you can spend the rest of the night here as well," he shouted at you, and you flinched.
Bucky's jaw was clenching when he saw the way Alex treated you, and when you got up from where you were sitting, Bucky reached out to grab your shoulder and pushed you behind him. Alex was laughing about it; his eyes were piercing into Bucky's.
"Do you think someone like him would treat you better? You're nothing but slut, a dumb little bitch," he said to you even when he was looking at Bucky.
You whimpered softly, but before you were able to say something, you saw Bucky's arm flying forward, and a moment later, your boyfriend was walking backwards, his hand covering his nose while he hissed in pain. Bucky just broke his nose with one punch, and you saw the blood slowly running down his chin, and Alex's hand was covered in it as well. You weren't sure if you felt scared or thankful that Bucky protected you for your boyfriend.
"Fucking slut. I'm gonna break up with you; fuck your new lover; he won't love you the way I loved you," he said, shutting the door and leaving you with Bucky in front of it.
Bucky turned around, seeing you crying, and, with widening eyes, looking at him broke his heart. He didn't want to scare you more, but he was just too angry at Alex for treating you the way he did. Bucky smiled nicely, opening his arms for you to decide if you wanted him to hug you or not. You hesitated a moment, but his warmth and the way he protected you made you crave more. So you walked closer toward him and let him wrap his arms around your shoulders, pulling you as close as possible. You placed your hand on his chest, inhaling his sweet-mint scent, and closed your eyes for a moment.
For the first time in years, you felt saved and loved. Someone could really like you the way you are. Bucky didn't know you, but he gave you the warmth you never got from your ex-boyfriend. His touches were soft, and you enjoyed the warmth and softness of them.
"You will come home with me. You can sleep in my bed then; I prefer the floor in the living room," Bucky said.
You were freezing, and when Bucky already offered you his bed and maybe a warm shower, you would definitely say yes. So you nodded softly, and Bucky lifted you up, his hands resting under your thighs, and you wrapped your legs around his waist while you placed your hands around his neck. You looked at him with a smirk, and Bucky grinned just as much as you did. Only then did you realise his beautiful blue eyes, which light up when he smiles, like he did.
"Can I take a shower then as well? And Bucky, I think I'm too heavy for you to carry me home," you say quietly.
"You can also take a long, warm bath if you want to. And don't worry, you're not too heavy for me," he chuckled and gave you some butterflies in your stomach, causing you to giggle softly.
"I'm home, doll," Bucky shouts through the apartment you both live in now.
Bucky takes off his jacket and shoes and makes his way into the kitchen. He inhales the smell of the food deeply, smiling when he sees the plates filled with his favourite food on the table. He walks around the table, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulls you flat against his broad chest. Bucky places his chin on your shoulder and looks at you while you're cooking.
When Bucky picked you up that day, you met him for the first time. He brought you to his home, and like he said, you were allowed to take a long, warm bath, and you slept in his bed. It was the first time in forever that you felt safe. Bucky made breakfast in the morning — a lot of breakfast because he wasn't sure what you liked to eat, so he made pancakes and French toast, and he offered you cereal. When you finished the dinner, he asked you to look over your wounds, and when you allowed him to do so, he picked you up to carry you into the bathroom and placed you on the edge of the bathtub. Bucky slowly moved his fingers over your thighs, and when you looked away because you were ashamed, he told you how beautiful you are.
Bucky took off your shirt, revealing a lot of scars and wounds all over your body. The hiss that left his lips made you flinch, but he assured you that he was just shocked that such a beautiful person like you has an ex-boyfriend like Alex. Bucky cleaned all your wounds; he didn't say that you were ugly. His words surprised you every time because he always admired your body, and he still does. The two of you came closer when Bucky offered you to stay with him, so you both would have someone, and you said yes, but your behaviour with your ex-boyfriend needed time to slowly fade away.
Bucky was really confused when you were always up before him when you made the meals and always studied his expression to see if it was good or not. With time, Bucky learned to tell you that the food is good, that he would like to cook with you together, and that he is going to help you with the dishes. Bucky took care to always tell you when he got home and to tell you what he would like to eat, or he told you to decide. When you were unsure, Bucky helped you decide, but he never pressured you. His only intention was to make you happy because he could never get enough of your beautiful smile.
Whenever you were looking into the mirror and a disgusted expression was on your face while a few tears fell down your cheeks — you wanted to be at least a bit handsome — Bucky smirked and was standing next to you, and he wiped your tears away with his thumbs. He took off his shirt and showed you the scars on his own body. The bunch of scars around his metal arm, but also the others. He showed you a side of himself that was also just a broken man, and you fell in love with that side just as much as you fell in love with the strong Bucky who would punch everyone to protect you.
When you suddenly got woken up by a scream and you were scared your ex-boyfriend was shouting at you, you needed a moment to remember that you were with Bucky. It confused you at first why you heard a scream, but when you heard another and then a noise that sounded like a punch, you got up to find Bucky sleeping on the floor in the living room. It wasn't new to you to see him lying there, but when you saw the tears rolling down his cheeks and the sweat on his forehead, you walked closer to place your hand on his shoulder. He woke up immediately and tried to wipe the tears away, but everything in his body told you that he had a really bad nightmare. You sat in his lap; your arms were around his neck, and you were sliding your fingers through his soft brown hair. Bucky had his face hidden in the crock of your neck. You being close to him is just as helpful for him as his being close to you to feel safe and comfortable.
You never judge him for having nightmares, for not being comfortable around too many people, or for struggling with his scars and mental health sometimes. And he gives you the same; he never dares to judge you. Bucky tries to show you how beautiful you are, that you're worth it, and that you are and can be more than you think. And he loves you the way you are, just like you love him the way he is.
Slowly, you get used to being good the way you are, and Bucky will never shout at you or hurt you. But for a while, he has looked irritated and distant. He comes home late, and even when he says it's nothing, you feel like you have done something that makes him mad or that he loves you less. So you try to be better, clean the apartment more often, cook what he loves, and try not to be too clingy around him.
"It smells beautiful," he says, kissing your neck softly.
You lean into his touch, smiling, while you finish the dinner. His hands are trailing up and down your sides, and you feel the goosebumps erupting all over your body. You love his soft, warm touches, his kiss all over your neck, and the way his breath hits your soft skin.
"There is something in the oven," you say, and Bucky takes a step back to walk to the oven. "You can just take a seat; dinner is almost done."
Bucky looks slightly confused. Usually, you wouldn't mind his help, but for a few days, you don't ask or let him help you with food and dishes anymore. You cook a lot of what he loves, and the meals are almost royalty meals. He doesn't mind eating your food because he loves what you do, but he wonders why you suddenly act like you did when he first met you. He walks around the table and takes his seat. He looks at you with a soft smile, but he still doesn't understand why you put so much effort into cleaning and cooking.
"How come you cook such royal meals?" He asks softly but sees you flinch.
You constantly feel like you have done something wrong; maybe that's not what Bucky likes? Maybe you shouldn't have cooked that? Bucky wants, probably, a pizza. You feel the tears building in your eyes, and when you turn around, you see Bucky's smile fading away. He looks with a worried expression at you while he gets up and walks closer to you. You shake your head, walking backwards and crashing into the kitchen counter behind you.
"Doll, can I please come closer? I can stand here when you feel comfortable, but please let me come closer," he says, and you hesitate a moment.
Bucky stands a few meters away from you, waiting for you to allow him to come closer. When you nod slightly, Bucky steps closer and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible against him. Your head rests against his broad chest, and your tears are soaking his t-shirt while he holds you tightly.
"B—Bucky I'm sorry. I didn't want to make the wrong food. I cleaned the house today; please don't be mad for not cleaning enough," you say quietly.
"Shhh. Doll, you didn't do anything wrong; why do you think that?"
"B—Because you look so distant. Don't you love me anymore? Am I too ugly or too fat? I—I can do a diet."
Bucky's eyes widen, and he slides his hands down to your thighs and picks you up. He shoves the pots away from the cooker. He then turns around and carries you to the bedroom of the two of you. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, and you try to wipe the tears away when he places you on the bed. Bucky stands in front of you and smirks softly, then he gets on his knees in front of you. His hands slide up and down your thighs until he reaches the hem of your shirt.
"I love you. I love you so much. And the missions with Sam were really exhausting, especially because John is always trying to tell us what we have to do. But I love you so much, and you are beautiful exactly the way you are. You're not fat or ugly; you're perfect the way you are," Bucky tells you. He then pushes you down and towers over you with a wide smile on his lips.
Bucky captures your lips with his soft and plumb ones, his hands sliding along your sides, and you sigh softly into the kiss. Bucky deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping through your barely parted lips, and he groans when you place your hands in his soft hair and tug at them softly.
You've never had sex with Bucky; he didn't pressure you since you were uncomfortable with it because of your ex-boyfriend. But right now, it feels perfect — the way Bucky has his lips on yours and his hands all over your body. You feel a heat in your lower stomach, which makes its way between your legs, and you can't help but moan about the feeling. When Bucky pulls slightly away, your eyes widen but are filled with lust, the pleasure written on in your expression, and Bucky smiles about it. He kisses down your jawline and to your neck, biting softly and licking over your soft skin.
"Bucky, please," you whimper.
He smirks, kissing your lips once again, before he plays with the hem of your shirt and pushes it up. You sit up, letting him remove the fabric from your body, and he groans about the way you look underneath him with lust in your eyes. Bucky kisses your collarbone, down to your breasts, and unclasps your bra so you can take it off as well. His big hands capture your breasts, palming them softly, and he earns soft moans from you. Bucky licks a strap down to one of your nipples; he kisses it softly before he takes it into his mouth, his tongue twirling around your nipple. You arch your back, pressing yourself more against your boyfriend, who chuckles.
"You're beautiful, doll," he mumbles, nibbling at the soft skin of your breast.
You blush and hide your face with your hands, giggling softly. Bucky looks at you, grasping your hands and pulling them away from your face. He leans closer to kiss your lips softly.
"Don't hide that pretty face of yours. You’re so beautiful; I wanna see you, please," Bucky says, pouting, and you smirk.
You lean closer and peck at his lips, just as softly as he did. Bucky moves his lips down your collarbone and to your other breast, kissing around your nipple before he takes it in his mouth as well. Suckling softly and scratching his teeth over the sensitive skin. You moan, tugging at his hair and pulling him even closer. Bucky slides his hands from your breasts down your stomach, kissing the way down and giving every inch of your soft skin attention.
“Do you want it? If not, we can wait until you’re ready to have sex with me,” Bucky says, his fingers playing with the waistband of your pants.
“I want it, please, Bucky. I need you,” you mumble, blushing once again.
“You’re cute when you blush,” he chuckles.
Bucky opens your pants, trailing his fingers along your skin while he pushes your pants down. He then kisses the way back to your belly and smirks when you wiggle in anticipation. He pushes himself up, removing his shirt as well as his pants, before he leans over you again. You can see his growing bulge in his boxers, and the outline of his cock is visible. A little wet spot forms where his tip is, and you reach out your hand to touch his cock.
“Wanna touch it, babydoll?” He asks, and you nod, your eyes focused on his covered cock.
Bucky grins, getting up the bed once again, and pushes his boxers down. His cock springs free and slaps against his stomach; the red tip is leaking with pre-cum, and you see the vein running along the underside of his shaft. Bucky gets on the bed next to you. You sit up, looking directly into his eyes, while he smiles at you. You slide your fingers over his abs and to the base of his cock. Bucky looks at your fingers, his hand wrapping around yours, and he brings both of your hands to his shaft.
“It’s oke, doll. I won’t do anything unless you want me to,” he says, leaning closer to kiss you before he wraps your hand around his shaft.
You smile when you feel the softness of his length. He is huge, but with Bucky, you feel safe, and you know he wouldn’t do anything when you say you don’t want him to do so. His hand lets go of yours.
For a moment, you just look at his cock in your hand and the way his pre-cum is leaking down his tip. It’s glistening softly, and you swipe your thumb over his slit, smearing the cum all over his tip. Bucky groans softly, smiling when you slowly move your hand up and down his shaft.
“Do you like that?”
“It feels wonderful, babydoll.”
You giggle, swiping your thumb a few more times about his tip until Bucky can’t hold back and thrusts forward into your hand. His eyes widen, and he looks at you, but there is no discomfort, so he relaxes and lets you continue to massage his dick.
“C—Can I touch your balls?” You ask, cheeks heating up.
Bucky nods, and you look at his balls before you use your other hand to bring it to his balls, taking them into your hand. They are soft, and you roll them in your palm, causing Bucky to groan.
“Babydoll, you’re doing so well for me. But when you continue, I won’t last long,” Bucky says.
You grin, moving your hand faster and wrapping it tighter around his shaft. Your other hand is massaging his balls, and when you swipe your thumb once again over his tip, Bucky grasps the sheets and thrusts his hips forward.
“Doll,” he says, looking deeply into your eyes.
The blue lights up when he smirks; they are slightly darkened because of the lust, but they show you nothing but love. When you stroke his cock a few more times, Bucky throws his head back and comes into your hand. He breathes heavily, and sweat is covering his forehead. His seeds are covering his tip and your hand, and for a moment he is worried that you could feel uncomfortable with it. But you just stroke him until he comes down from his high, and then you look at your hand, his cum slowly dropping from it, and you move it to your mouth, so you lick a bit of it away, moaning softly at its salty taste.
“It tastes good,” you smirk, tapping his cock again, and Bucky moans.
When Bucky catches his breath, he pushes you back down so you lay next to him. He spreads your thighs and slides his fingers up and down your thighs further until he reaches your panties. Your face is turned toward him, and he’s focused on your expression, making sure you’re oke. When you nod softly, Bucky guides his hand over your panties and caresses your fold through the fabric. You moan softly; he knows how to touch a woman to make her feel good; he immediately hits your clit and you buck your hips. He then slides his fingers further down, feeling your panties damp, and he smirks.
“Can I take your panties off?” He asks, and you nod, but place your hands on his cheek and press your lips on his.
Bucky moves his lips perfectly against yours; he’s deepening the kiss before he kisses your neck and collarbone before his focus is back on your panties. His fingers circle your clit through the fabric, and you moan quietly, arching your back. Bucky takes the waistband of your panties between his fingers and pulls them down, revealing your pussy. He rolls himself on top of you before he pushes you further down in the bed by your hips. He is then lying between your thighs and smirking at you.
“You’re so wet and so beautiful,” he says, placing a kiss on your pussy.
Bucky’s eyes are focused on your pussy, his fingers trialing through your folds, and he parts them slightly. Using his tongue to lick along them to your clit. Circling around your sensitive spot before he sucks at it softly, making you gasp. You have never felt so much pleasure during sex, and Bucky hasn’t really touched you yet. His fingers trail back down to your soaked entrance. He pushes his digit against it, smirking at the way you push yourself more against his finger.
“You’re cute when you’re desperate for more, doll,” he says, placing his lips once again on your clit.
One of your hands finds its way to his hair, tugging at it and pulling Bucky closer to your cunt. He chuckles against your pussy, causing vibration, and you whine. He slowly pushes one of his fingers into you while his other hand holds you down by your hips. You only then know that he used his metal hand to push inside of you. The sudden cold of his finger feels great compared to the heat in your pussy. Bucky thrusts his finger in and out of you, smirking about the way your pussy is clenching around his digit and sucking him inside. His mouth doesn’t let go of your clit while he does so, enjoying the sounds that are leaving your lips. They are like music, and he could listen to your soft moans all day.
“Bucky— please. It feels so good.”
“You’re tasting so sweet, doll. Can’t get enough of your pussy.”
You smirk, throwing your head back when he adds another finger and pushes them as much as he can into your tight hole. You’re soaking his fingers, and when he curls them, he finds your sweet spot. The moan that leaves your lips is erotic, and you look at him with shock in your eyes about that sound.
“Don’t worry, doll. Just found your sweet spot,” Bucky chuckles, licking down your folds to your entrance.
His tongue joins your fingers, and his lapping at your entrance swallows all your juice. His fingers curl inside of you, hitting always your sweet spot, and you feel the knot in your stomach growing. You haven’t felt a pleasure like that in years, but Bucky is so soft with you; he never says anything bad about you or your body. Bucky loves you; he loves your body; and he shows you that, every day, he makes sure you know how much you’re loved by him and that you’re the most beautiful woman for him.
“I feel soy squeezing my fingers; if you wanna come, then do it. Come all over my fingers, doll,” he says, placing his mouth back at your entrance.
His words, the way his tongue is working over your folds, and the way his fingers are always hitting your sweet spot make you come. Your cum is floating out of you, but Bucky doesn’t dare to miss a bit of it and takes it all. Eating you out like it’s the most delicious meal he's ever had. And he fucks you with his fingers and his tongue through your orgasm; your breath hitches whenever his tongue slides over your folds. Your pussy feels so sensitive, but Bucky is so soft. He earns more soft moans until he pulls his fingers out of you and kisses your clit once more before he places his chin on your lower stomach and smirks at you.
“How are you feeling, pretty girl?”
“Great, thank you. And you?”
Bucky chuckles, you’re always so nice. Even when it’s all about you, you always make sure that he is fine too. That both of you feel comfortable.
“I’m good too. Do you want to have my dick now?” He asks, grinning.
You nod, running your fingers through his soft hair. Bucky kisses your stomach, pushing his elf up until he kneels between your legs. His big hands are caressing your thighs. Bucky’s cock is hard again, and the tip is touching your pussy when he moves closer to you.
“Could you give me a condom? It’s in the drawer from the bedside table.”
You turn yourself a bit around, reaching for the drawer, and open it. You grab a condom and give it to Bucky, then you close the drawer and lay down more comfortably again. Bucky opens the package of the condom, taking it out and throwing the package away. Your boyfriend grasps the base of his cock and pulls the condom over his dick.
You’re spreading your legs further apart when Bucky settles himself between them, his cock still in his hand, and he taps the tip a few times against your clit. He smirks at you, sliding his dick through your folds, and covers his cock with your arousal. You moan softly when he reaches your entrance, pushing his tip softly against it. You whimper softly when Bucky slides his cock once more through your folds. He loves the way you look through your lashes at him; your lips are slightly parted, so desperate for his cock.
"Bucky, please," you say quietly, pushing your hips toward him.
Bucky lines himself up with your entrance and pushes slowly inside of you; his cock is huge, and he stretches you like no one has before. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before he pushes further into you. Your back arches, but he doesn't hurt you; the pleasure is breathtaking, and you grasp the sheets. Bucky chuckles, pushing balls deep into you; he then leans closer and captures your lips with his. His cock is filling you perfectly, and you clench around him, causing him to groan into your mouth.
"You're so tight, warming my cock so perfectly," he groans.
"You're so deep," you moan when he pulls slightly out to push back into you.
You both chuckle, and Bucky takes one of your hands, brings it to your stomach, and places it on your lower abdomen. He then thrusts his cock into you, letting you feel him through your skin and causing you to moan even louder. Feeling his cock that way turns you on beyond belief. He moves his cock in a slow but steady rhythmus inside of you. Your walls are squeezing him, sucking him deeper into the warmth of your pussy.
Bucky's balls hit your ass whenever he pushes his dick balls deep into you. His dick is glistening with your arousal, and Bucky looks the whole time into your eyes.
You're beautiful when you lay underneath him like that. Your other hand makes its way to his back, and you try to ground yourself while Bucky holds your other hand, still pressed on your stomach. With every thrust you feel him against your hand, he cock is hitting all the right spots, and he smirks when he hits your sweet spot harder than before.
"That's what you like?" He asks.
"Scared that I will break when you're thrusting harder into me?"
He shakes his head, laughing while he speeds up his thrusts. Your mouth drops open when he causes a pleasure inside of you that you have never felt before. It grows in your stomach and makes its way down to your pussy. Your eyes widen while you breathe heavily, but you still push your hips more against Bucky to show him to fuck you harder. And he does; he pulls almost completely out of you to thrust back inside of you. His breath hitches, and he closes his eyes when you squeeze him harder.
"I won't last long when you squeeze me like that, doll," he says, pressing his lips to yours.
You smirk, clenching your walls on purpose to make him groan against your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth, and his thrusts become harder and faster while you're not far away from the edge anymore. The pleasure in your stomach is growing, and Bucky growls. When he hits your sweet spot a few more times, he feels your orgasm just as close as his own, speeding his thrusts up. Bucky doesn't want to come before you do — or at least when you do.
"B—Bucky, I'm so close."
"I know, me too. Come with me, doll," he mumbles softly.
He pushes his cock into you; you feel every inch of him inside of you; his lips are slightly parted like yours; and his breath hits your soft skin. The feeling of him feeling you completely inside of you causes you to come all over his cock. You moan his name and its music to his ears, hearing you moan his name while he is buried balls deep into your pussy. You're squirting all over his cock, and Bucky grins while he comes as well. He comes in the condom, still thrusting into you while you both calm down from your high. Bucky lets go of your hand, sliding it over your stomach and your sides, caressing your skin. He places kisses all over your neck while you catch your breath and run your fingers through his soft hair.
"Are you oke?" He asks, his blue eyes slightly worried that he could have been too rough.
"I'm— it was perfect."
His expression softens, and he pulls slowly out of you. You hiss about the sudden emptiness and grasp his muscular arms to pull him back. Bucky chuckles, placing his fingers at your pussy and strokes your folds softly. You're clenching around nothing, while Bucky admires the way your cum is dripping out of you.
He then sits up and helps you sit up as well. Bucky removes the condom and gets up from the bed, making his way to the bathroom to throw the condom away. You're looking at him, smirking. He is adorable, sweet, and caring. He never tells you that you're ugly because of your scars; he just kisses them when you struggle because of them and tells you how beautiful you are. And you're doing the same; whenever he has nightmares or suffers from his past or scars, you know exactly how to cheer him up. A lot of kisses and cuddles always help that soft, big man, and with the way his eyes are shining, his lips curl up to the softest and most adorable smile.
You rest your back against the headboard of the bed, waiting for Bucky. He throws the condom away and runs warm water into the bath; he buts your favourite bubble bath into it as well, before he makes his way back to you. He smirks, picking you up with no effort and getting back into the bathroom. Before you can say something, you're sitting in the bathtub, surrounded by a lot of bubbles and your favourite scent. You squirm softly when you feel the warm water on your sensitive pussy. Bucky gets into the bathtub behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, and pulls you as close as possible.
"I love you," he mumbles, taking some of the foam and putting it on your hair.
You giggle when it rolls down your hair and tickles your skin softly. Bucky rubs his hands softly over your stomach, drawing small circles on it while you lean back, resting your head against his broad chest. Bucky plays with the foam, placing them everywhere on your body, and chuckles then.
"You did so well for me, babydoll. Your pussy's feeling so good around my cock," Bucky says, kissing your neck softly. "Made for my cock."
You chuckle, sliding your hands over his legs. But he is right; it was perfect, and he was so soft that you weren't scared when he pushed in; you felt safe, and you knew he wouldn't do it when you didn't want it.
"My pretty doll, I'm so in love with you. How about I prepare some popcorn and pizza after the bath while you decide which movie we're going to watch?"
"Sounds like a good idea," you say, turning around to kiss him.
Bucky washes your hair, trying to avoid letting shampoo come into your eyes, and he manages to do so. When you turn your whole body around, you're washing his hair. When you put the shampoo in his soft brown hair, you give him some fresh hair styles. Laughing about the way he is pouting when you giggle about his hair. You kiss his pout away, causing him to pout again to get more kisses.
When the both of you are finished, you get out of the bathtub, and Bucky holds a towel to wrap around you, kissing your forehead softly when he walks to the bedroom and dresses himself, giving you panties and a t-shirt of his. You smirk, dress yourself, and comb your hair. Bucky makes his way to the kitchen, preparing the popcorn and the pizza. When you're finished in the bathroom, you walk into the living room, placing all the pillows and blankets on the couch and letting yourself fall into them. When Bucky came with the food and drinks into the living room, he burst out laughing. Only your arms and legs are visible from underneath the pillows. He places the food and drinks on the small table and lifts the pillow on top of you, smirking.
"Does the pillow eat you?" He asks, and you chuckle.
"No, I just like to cuddle."
You sit up, moving a bit to make some space for Bucky. He lets himself fall down next to you and wraps his arm around you, then he takes the popcorn and hands it to you before he places the pizza in his lap. With a smirk, you look at the pizza and then into his blue eyes.
"Needy boy," you mumble into his ear.
You slide your hand over his chest to his stomach until you almost reach his cock, but then you take a slice of pizza and bite into it with a grin. You turn on a movie, Bucky, and you like that your head rests on his shoulder while he has his hand around your waist and pulls you as close as possible.
"Just as needy as I'm," he says, making both of you chuckle.
Bucky takes some popcorn from the bowl, which is standing between your legs, so he has to grasp between your legs like you do when you take a slice of pizza from him.
"Bucky?"
"Mhm?" He asks, half asleep, and pulls you even closer against him.
You smile softly and run your fingers through his soft hair. You move some strands out of his face and lean closer to kiss him. Bucky growls and makes you lie on top of him, his arms holding you tightly pressed against him. His fingers draw small circles on your soft skin, and he hides his face in the crock of your neck.
"Y-You know about my things, which are still at Alex's house, right?" You ask carefully; you don't want to upset Bucky.
He hums in response and looks at you, his blue eyes as soft as always. He leans closer and captures your lips for a passionate kiss, showing you that you don't have to worry about telling him about your ex-boyfriend. Bucky knows you love him just as much as he loves you. And he understands that you want to get your personal stuff from your ex-boyfriend.
"A—And I wanted to ask if— could you maybe come with me to him?"
Bucky immediately nods, rolling both of you over so you're underneath him, and he smirks at you. His soft lips grace over yours and along your jawline to your neck, where he bits softly into your skin. His hands move smoothly over your sides, caressing your skin and causing goosebumps all over your body. You sigh softly and enjoy the warmth and softness of Bucky's touches. He is always so soft and careful with you, like you could break into his hands when he doesn't pay attention. But you don't complain; Bucky is everything for you — the love of your life and your best friend.
After a lot of kisses, cuddles, and a good breakfast, you're ready to go to your ex-boyfriend and get your personal stuff. Your hands are sweating, and you dry them on your pants. Your body is slightly shaking. Bucky recognises that; he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flat against his broad chest. Your head rests on his chest, and you listen to his heartbeat.
"He won't hurt you again, babydoll. I'm taking care of you; I'll protect you, and he won't do anything when you don't want it." Bucky mumbles and pushes you softly away.
He presses his lips against your forehead, which helps calm down your nerves. Bucky opens the door for you, holding your hands tight in his while you two walk along the street to the apartment you used to live in a few months ago. When you see the entrance of it already, you panic, stay still, and inhale deeply. Bucky turns toward you and places his hand on your cheek, sliding his thumb over it.
"Doll, you're stronger than you ever were. This man never broke you, and he never will. He can't harm you; I love you, and I won't let him touch you again," Bucky says softly.
He knows how hard it can be to accept a trauma you're carrying in your soul. Wounds that turn into scars, but it needs more time as a cut on the skin. Bucky knows how much you suffered because of your ex-boyfriend, but he also sees the strong woman behind all that pain. He loves you for the person you are, not for the person he wants you to be. When you nod, he leads you further to Alex's apartment. He knocks with a strength you're not used to at the door, and then the door is opened by a man you feel like you don't know.
Alex has messy hair; his beard isn't shaved like he used to, and he has dark shadows underneath his red eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept for a while, but when he sees you, he smiles. A smile you had only seen on his lips when you first met. The one you fell in love with. But when Alex sees Bucky standing next to you and holding your hand in his, his smile drops.
"Hi, I—I would like to get my stuff, please," you mumble.
Surprisingly, Alex nods and takes a step to the side, letting you and Bucky walk into the apartment. When you look around, everything looks similar to the day he threw you out of the apartment. The only difference is that there are clothes and trash on the ground. Bucky lets go of your hand, staying next to you to make sure Alex isn't doing anything. You're walking through the apartment and picking up your things, putting them in a bag you brought.
"Can we talk, please?" He asks when you walk back to the floor, where he is still standing.
You nod carefully, and Bucky kisses your cheek before he walks a step to the side to let the two of you talk. Alex runs his fingers through his hair and his hands over his face, and then he inhales deeply.
"I'm sorry, I—I Baby—“
"Alex, please. We're not together anymore."
"I never wanted to hurt you. I love you. I haven't had a girl since you moved out. Please, I love you. Give me one more chance to show you that I love you. I will be a better boyfriend this time," he says, and you see the tears falling down your cheeks.
You shake your head. And his eyes widen. Realism hits him when he sees that you don't feel the same for him anymore. He sees in your eyes that you moved on, not only in your eyes; you look in general different from the time you were together with him.
"I'm sorry, but I moved on, and you should do the same," you say with such strength in your voice. You never thought you would talk to him like that without fear.
"Please, you— I love you."
"You were strong, and I was not. And you used it — you used it against me. When all is done, there is nothing to say. You have gone, and so effortlessly, you have won. You can go ahead and tell them. You can tell your friends now what you want; you can tell the girls you fuck now how shitty I am and how bad I'm in bed. I never did what you wanted or the way you wanted. Tell them all; I know now that you fucked them all without feeling ashamed to cheat on the girl you have at home, the one who loved you and expected to be treated like you did. To be abused by her boyfriend while still loving him. Shout it from the rooftops; write it on the skyline; all we had is gone now. Tell them I was happy even though my heart was broken. All my scars were open, but I found someone who doesn't mind them and helps to heal them, someone who loves all the scars you caused."
Bucky smirks when he hears your words, and his eyes light up when he hears you tell your ex-boyfriend what was inside of you for so long. And you were finally able to tell him how you felt and how you now feel.
"I know I made mistakes. But I love you."
"Everyone does, but you betrayed me. And falling out of love is hard, but falling for betrayal is worse. And you betrayed me so often. Broken trust and broken hearts — you broke both our hearts; you broke mine when we were together, and yours broke because I moved on. And thinking all you need is there, building faith on love and words, only empty promises will wear. Alex, I loved you, but I moved on, and you should do the same," you say and nod before you walk to Bucky.
He smiles widely at you, his eyes shining in the most beautiful way you have ever seen. You place your hand in his, and he takes the bag before you two make your way to the door and get out of the apartment. When you close the door behind you, you breathe shakily, and you feel like all the pain and fear are fading away. You walk a few steps, but Bucky just can't hold back anymore and stays still, turning around and wrapping his arms around your waist.
"I'm so proud of you, doll. I love you so much. I would tell the whole world; I just do it. I will tell the world how much I love you," Bucky says with a grin, and twirling the two of you around, he then leans closer. "I love you so much, and I'm proud of you. I don't even have words for that; you're the most beautiful woman, and you belong to me; you're mine just as much as I'm yours," he whispers into your ear.
"Thank you. I love you too, Bucky," you giggle, then you smirk playfully. "So, where do you want to go to tell the world that you love me?"
"I already did. When I whispered in your ear that I love you. Because you're my world, my perfect world," Bucky says, kissing you softly.
You feel some tears of joy rolling down your face when you realise his words. No one ever said more meaningful words than Bucky does. He is definitely everything for you, and you are grateful to have such a wonderful and loving man as your boyfriend. One who sees you as the only and most wonderful woman, someone who doesn't even look at other women, and one who tries to make you laugh as often as he can. Bucky is the love of your life, and you're grateful that destiny brought the two of you together and that the two of you discover every day another thing you love about one another.
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @nervouseden @vicmc624 @kpopgirlbtssvt @ordelixx @angelbabyyy99 @mostlymarvelgirl @somegirlfromasgard @buck-buck-buckaroo @lov3lys1ns @etherealdisneyvillainness @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel
#mcu#marvel#marvel mcu#bucky barnes#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky smut#bucky x reader smut#bucky barnes x yn#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james buchanan bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x y/n#james bucky barnes x reader#james barnes x y/n#james barnes x you#james barnes x reader#bucky x f!reader#bucky x fem reader#bucky x yn#bucky x reader fluff#bucky x reader angst#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader fanfiction
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yoyo! please can i request jjk men reaction to yn always sleeping hugging a pillow(because it’s comfy lol) 🙈. thankyou! :)
kissing you rn nonnie i too cannot go to sleep without hugging a pillow <3
ᡣ𐭩 SLEEP TIGHT !
✎ feat. g. satoru, n. kento, r. sukuna
ᡣ𐭩 GOJO SATORU
honestly, if you hug or show affection to anything that isn't him in a five metre radius of his presence, it's your fault.
you palm around the cold sheets, squinting an eye open when nothing soft meets your hand. you could've sworn it was right there a second ag—
"oh god—what are you doing, satoru?"
gojo huffs, unaware that the luminous spheres of blue he calls eyes look like they're about to devour you in the dark, "i should be the one asking you that." he crosses his arms, glaring at you. "is this who you fuck when i'm not in the city?" his hand vigorously shakes the pillow that was in your arms a few moments ago.
your heartbeat is still recovering from the jumpscare when you sigh, running a hand over your face. "kind of, yeah. when you're out on missions, this makes me feel like you're here. helps me sleep better."
his eyes soften and the curves of his lips are threatening to burst into a smile but he huffs again, looking away. "i guess i can excuse it. but now that i'm here, you don't need it."
"...it's also a way better cuddler."
"what?!
(cue to you repenting on your words while gojo smothers you to show how good of a cuddler he is. please, 'toru it's summer.)
ᡣ𐭩 NANAMI KENTO
it's only when nanami takes a quiet breath in that he notices the absence of your comments.
soft words come to a pause as he glances down at his lap, where you lay. light streams in through the window, kissing your relaxed face, eyes shut in content while a river of drool runs from your mouth.
your grip tightens on the pillow that's lucky enough to be snuggled close to your chest and the dimples on kento's cheeks make a faint appearance.
even though he's in risk of being replaced by a mere pillow, nanami always found it adorable that you hugged something to bed. he remembers the first time you slept together, you bashfully explained to him that it was a childhood trait of yours that continued through your later years.
(he didn't mind; it's a feeling that provides protection and comfort. an anchor that grounds you when you're most vulnerable.)
he also remembers that he offered to take the position of your pillow, to which you had stuttered an eager 'yes.’
nanami sets down the book with a bookmark, guessing the page where you nodded off. he gently lifts your head off his lap, moving just enough to get a blanket.
he places a kiss on your forehead and warmth fills his chest when you smile in your sleep, "sweet dreams, love."
(your dreams consist of a hazy blond with a precious smile but nanami doesn't know need to know that when he sees you blushing in the morning.)
ᡣ𐭩 RYOMEN SUKUNA
sukuna would rather eat his own shoe than admit it, but he's the clingy one in the relationship. especially in the mornings.
the moment sunlight peeks through the curtains and his soul regains the slightest bit of consciousness, his body is searching for yours, magnetic. your soft snores fill the room and his heavy arm slings over your body, ready to pull you into him—until it meets something soft.
"the fuck?" his voice is groggy from sleep but he rips the pillow from your grasp with ease. sukuna stares at it with barely concealed disgust before he flings it to the other side of the room. he huffs, moving to rest on top of you. you deserve suffocation.
...sukuna's gaze moves to the limp pillow on the floor and his eyes narrow. a bit of careful shuffling and a pair of scissors. sukuna comes back to bed after a few moments, crawling back on top of you with a hum of satisfaction. that's better.
(in the morning, you frown, checking under the bed. "hey sukuna, have you seen my pillow? the big, comfy one i bought yesterday."
"no."
“…hey, what's that fluff falling from the trash can—")
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#nanami x reader#sukuna x reader#gojo satoru x reader#nanami kento x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#i’m not sorry for the amount of em dashes i use#but i am sorry for how shit sukuna’s turned out#vera’s.jjk.library.✎
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best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —
words: 2.2k
rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni.
warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is
notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.
one thing you love about simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. strong, steadfast, there when you need him. even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.
not that you’ll tell him that.
you hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.
except for simon.
which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. you don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.
losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. you've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.
but losing simon? you don't think you'd ever get over that.
it's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold your tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.
your call log is all simon.
some appointments here and there, but simon everywhere else.
fuck.
you hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.
you don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.
he answers before the third ring.
"i'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. you take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired.
“no, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. you’re only half-convinced.
"i'm sorry," you begin again. your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. you're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "i didn't know who else to call, and i lost my tram pass, and i don't have an umbrella, and — "
“dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. you ache.
"i can just walk home, i-i'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone.
“darling,” he says, a little stern. not angry, never angry. trying to focus you. “what’s wrong?”
“u-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "i waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "messaged him too, y'know. but he just. didn't show."
you think you hear simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick.
“where are you?”
there's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. you manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking.
“twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “sit there and be good and patient and i’ll pick you up, yeah?”
"okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.
thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. you make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.
you can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.
he says your name gently. you take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. he's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. assessing you, worrying.
"i'm sorry," you croak out. you can't help it. it's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. he doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.
"love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. his eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "you know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.
you can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. he hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.
"this is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. you were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.
"yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "you really think i'd let you stay home alone?"
his eyes are so fucking bright. it startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.
"i..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. his eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "i was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.
"as if i don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. you scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.
"go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.
you hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.
"go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.
his flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.
well.
you might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. it's a you're a bit clumsy thing. simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.
his bedroom is familiar as well. which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.
you take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. you’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.
as you pad back out to the living room, simon’s already on the couch. your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. but you’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.
his balaclava is off. the last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv already ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.
“knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.
“am i that predictable?” you mumble, a small ‘thank you’ as he hands you a bowl.
he doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.
the silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.
“were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.
you blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. you can’t read his eyes. something hot twists in your gut.
“i-i don’t know, simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “maybe?”
he doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “depends how the date went, i suppose. doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. his gaze hasn’t changed. “why?”
his jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “you deserve better ‘n that.”
a confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “i know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.
he seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. you feel sick.
dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. you bite at your nail, just for something to do.
“don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”
your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. relationships aren’t easy. being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.
you never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. you don’t deserve that kind of attention. after a while, they’ll get tired. you’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.
it’s easier to be by yourself. the only person you have to worry about bothering is you.
“love.” he tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. how hasn’t he tired of you yet?
a hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.
“what’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”
you swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.
“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “no one would want me anyways.”
“‘n why would you say that?”
frustration burns the back of your throat. isn’t it obvious? you can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. how can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? how could he think anyone else would put up with it?
“you wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. you crumble back into the couch.
“make me understand.”
heat flashes at the nape of your neck. he takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. your name sounds so soft in his voice.
“how aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. you look at him. hesitant. scared.
the silence is loud. his frown deepens. it takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.
“you know i’d do anything for you, yeah?”
your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.
“because you do the same for me,” he continues. you doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.
his touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. he slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips where the waistband of his boxers start.
you slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. firm and broad and safe.
“you apologize so much. you worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. one hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.
“you’re allowed to ask for help.”
you shake your head, a “no” caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.
“oh, love.” he cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “you have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”
he lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. but his cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. you’re so tired.
his lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. you’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.
#ink by bambi#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley/reader#simon riley/you#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley hurt/comfort#simon riley fluff#ghost fluff#ghost imagine#modern warfare imagine
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𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘, 𝗕𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗧
and here we go again in more smuts I write in 40 minutes randomly overnight. the choso part in the trailer keeps popping up for me all over my social media, so that's for everyone who has this man as husband! top!amab! reader and bottom!choso below. this was written to be read as gn, so if anything is wrong please let me know!
Choso always made the cutest sounds during sex. He was a very domestic and simple man, most of the time he would ask you in a soft voice to turn off the lights before continuing what you were doing, (even though you two knew the darkness of the room did little to hide the flush in his face, his open mouth in an involuntary movement or how his cock twitched at the smallest of compliments). He usually liked looking at your face during sex and blushed like a virgin when you tried anything in daylight. And after one of the neighbors complained about the noise, Choso not only started to avoid them, he also started to have a habit that you hated:
He started trying to be as quiet as possible in bed.
You weren't happy about it. It was hard to actually hear any of the moans or whimpers your husband made when you fucked him exactly like he had wanted all day during which he tried to show you with the eyes - it was never a difficult task, considering you were always itching to have him under you, anytime.
What sounded like a snarl reached your ears, muffled by the pillow Choso was hugging to his face, your pillow.
Your fingers dug into his lean hips, ring sunk into his skin in a way that should hurt and thumbs pressing hard over the knobby bones you pulled him back against you with each thrust, so hard that every time your thighs and his ass met, the twinge of pain shot through your senses.
In the low light, his long hair blended into the darkness and your shadow fell over his torso. You two were completely naked, skin to skin, and even condom use had been discarded when you entered into a relationship.
You liked having him like this, with no barriers between you, raw and messy and wet. Choso liked it too, as much as he never said it out loud, you knew.
He also liked it when you came inside him. It left him feeling used and dirty and belonging to you. It was another one of those things that would be hard to get him to admit, but that was okay too.
"I am close." Your voice filled the stuffy air in the room.
All the windows were closed and the curtains drawn, both the front door and the bedroom door were locked, making it difficult for air to circulate. The idea of getting caught during sex by anyone was mortifying to Choso to the point where he didn't even like you using the scenario as dirty talk.
Big brother thing, you concluded, even if today only you and choso were home.
Choso's knuckles turned white where he gripped the pillow, so hard that the ripping sound rang out, the golden band of the wedding ring shining even in the dark on his finger. His hole tightened around you, helping the boiling sensation of pleasure just build in your stomach.
Your hips reacted on their own, shooting forward, back into your husband's relaxed, wet hole.
"Where should I come?" you questioned, wheezing occasionally interrupting your speech. "Should I take it off?"
It was a mere tease, as you knew how possessive Choso was when it came to your cum, he hated it being wasted, but in his delusional pleasure mind, that should have sounded more like an threat.
He seemed to mutter an irritated reply that was once again muffled by the pillow.
"I can't understand what you're talking, darling," you said as you started to back away, leaving Choso's warmth. You had to fight the immediate urge to just shove back in him and fuck him until you came.
The response was immediate, Choso's hole tightening so hard it looked like it wanted to suck your cock. He pushed the pillow away, allowing you to see the trace of tears on his face and the mess of saliva on his chin.
Beautiful.
"D-don't take it off," he pleaded sweetly. Maybe because he'd been fucked for so long his voice sounded loud, almost like a scream he didn't seem aware of. "In-inside... C-come in me." He repeated, sounding desperate: "Come in me."
And who were you to deny him anything?
Using your grip on his hips, you began to fuck him, eagerly, almost violently. Your cock eased in and out of him, being engulfed by the heat of his tight walls.
Choso's lips were trembling, his whole body was trembling - you noticed right away - and you wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss him. But you forced yourself to just watch as his eyes rolled back, his arms hugging the pillow to his chest as the husky, sweet moans you loved most fell from his mouth.
Your nails pressed into his skin and you came, hard, hips swaying in erratic thrusts to enjoy the pleasure coursing through you. Your cock twitched and spurted inside him, marking his entrails with your belongings.
Choso gasped for air, body writhing on the sheets and you saw the exact moment he came all over his stomach and your pillow. Coming into him was enough to send him into his own orgasm.
Now you kissed him, grabbing the pillow between your chests and throwing it towards the floor. You swallowed each of his sighs; sweat and semen forming a mess between your bodies and before the memory of the inconvenient neighbor and the anxiety of being heard by strangers during sex returned, you rotated your hips in slow circles still inside him, extracting every reaction and every ounce of pleasure from him and gently led him on for a second round, then a third...
Then, you made Choso so loud that none of the neighbors had the nerve to come and complain the next day. Inflamed by it, after being fucked to the point he limped the next day and his throat got hoarse, he never tried to hide his moans from you ever again, even at the risk of being heard by his younger brothers.
#x male reader#x top reader#x gn reader#x male top reader#x top male reader#top gn reader#gn reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x male reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#choso x reader#choso x you#choso x male reader#choso smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x male reader#jjk x gn!reader#jjk x gender neutral reader#jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader
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hey i love your work so much!! i was wondering if you could do something where hotch gets lingerie for the reader. and the reader is like mmm no maybe not.. but hotch is like please just try it on to see if you like it?
reader is like ok, so they put it on and they are stilly kinda hesitant but when hotch sees them he is like star struck and… ya know shows them how pretty they are!! and he just praises the reader, maybe they do it in front of a mirror 🫣🫣
i think it would be cute, but you don’t have to write it if you don’t want, sorry if this is all over the place it was just a stream of consciousness!!
༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫
— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader
— summary: to aaron, buying you lingerie was an act of love, to you, it was something new.
— warnings: lingerie wearing (obviously), slight body insecurity, illusions to mirrors being used for future... unsavory acts, kissing, heavy petting, praise, heavy kissing.
— wc: 745
⋆ a/n: hello hun!! i'm so glad you like my work and sorry that this isn't as detailed as you probably would have liked. funny enough i couldn't find space to fit actual smut in there, but never fear! it is still as equally spicy and fun!
masterlist | AO3
“What the fuck is that?”
Aaron held up a piece of lingerie that looked more like pieces of string and lace were sewn together than any actual cloth.
“Lingerie, honey.” He said with a deep chuckle. “And you want me to wear… that?” You questioned in disbelief. “That would be ideal, yes.”
There was a wince on your face as you continued to stare at the dark red thing. “Yeah… no. Absolutely not.” You crossed your arms. “Sweetheart, you don't even know if you won't like it.”
“No, I know I don't like it. How about you just see me naked?”
“As tempting as that sounds, I would like it very much if you were to try it on.”
Your eyes flickered from his to the bundle of lace.
Now, it wouldn't be fair to say no, because Aaron has indulged in many of your fantasies over the years, and he barely asks for anything, as well as always focuses on your pleasure. If you said no he'd drop the conversation entirely, he was never one to pressure.
You could see it in the burning of his irises that he wanted to see you in the lingerie, and he would never steer you wrong and pick something ugly. Oh God, just thinking about him going into a place like Victoria's Secret made your cheeks heat up.
With one final glance you sighed, sticking out your hand. “Fine, but I'm doing this just because I love you and… because I want to.”
He walked up and handed you it, pulling you into his side to give you a kiss on your head. “Thank you.” You just hummed before disappearing into the bathroom.
Oh you looked like a fucking clown.
You knew this would be no good. This was not flattering at all, at least in your eyes. You cringed, tugging at the straps that dug into your arms uncomfortably. You had never felt so… unsure sexually before.
“Aaron, I look ridiculous.”
“I'm sure you look great.”
“Did this thing not come with a robe?” You couldn't help but ask, because the outfit felt like it was missing something.
“It did.”
“And where might it be?”
“With me.”
“You're such a bastard.” You mumbled to yourself.
You took a deep breath to ease your nerves.
“Alright, I'm coming out, but if you laugh at me, I'm going to kill you.”
“In what world would I laugh at you?” He was right, you were being nervous and irrational and — God, you've never done this before. Was it hot in here? Were you sweating?
Stepping out of the bathroom was one thing, but Aaron staring at you speechless was a whole other can of worms.
You shifted anxiously in your spot as he approached you, his large hand cupping your cheek. His calloused thumb rubbed the hot skin of it softly.
“You look breathtaking.” His voice was strained. The other hand that wasn't cradling your face landed on your naked hip. He squeezed the fat of it, a light shiver shooting up his back at the feeling of the fat spilling through his fingers.
Your body thrums with excitement, your last hesitation slowly melting off of you.
“You think so?” You ask shyly. “I know so.” Aaron confirms with that warm, comforting voice of his. He connects your lips together and a light, surprised gasp exits your mouth. Your hands shoot-out to hold his strong biceps.
His lips molded themselves firmly onto yours, tongue exploring your mouth with desperate fervor. It was like he was trying to consume you, and a new type of fire burned in his veins. It was a rabid kind of need that threatened every part of him that was a gentleman.
You pushed away from him to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Your eyes fall on the mirror hanging on the well next to where you guys are standing and you groan.
“Ugh, Aaron…” You whine in embarrassment, burying your head into his hard chest. “Don’t be ashamed of yourself, sweetheart. You’re gorgeous.” You groan in embarrassment. “Why do you have to say stuff like that?”
“Because I mean it. I love all of you.”
“You really know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t you, Hotchner?”
“As much as I like sweet talking you, I like having you in my bed more.” He locked your lips again, nosy hands massaging and gripping at the chub exposed by the two-piece.
ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus
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Can I get a whiskey with Frank castle and “I don’t deserve you” please?
Multi Talented.
warnings - smut. cursing.
haven't written frank in so long!! thank you for requesting <3
3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.
"Oh fuck, Frank."
You thread your fingers through his hair and pull, eliciting a groan from the man who's broad shoulders are keeping your legs apart.
"Shit, Frank. Just- I just - fuck, give me a minute to just-"
Your back arches off the bed as he sucks particularly hard, teeth grazing over your clit. You're panting, chest heaving, hands scrambling for purchase. You're not sure if you're pushing him away or pulling him closer.
He's doing this thing with his tongue, making it difficult for you to breathe. There are silver stars floating in front of your eyes, blurring your vision, shifting your reality.
The city outside hurries on, sirens and car horns soundtracking the night. The room is dark except for the light of the streetlamps, illuminating the shining purple bruise on Frank's cheekbone.
He pulls away to mutter under his breath, barely audible. You wouldn't hear if you weren't so in tune with everything he says or does.
"That's it, pretty girl."
"Atta girl. You got it."
"Yeah. Good fuckin' girl. So good f'me."
His low, raspy tone is what sends you over the edge, gasping as his fingers curl just right. You see salvation in your release, the universe white hot and blinding.
"Where did you learn to do that?" you ask breathlessly, relaxing back against the sheets.
"Told ya I know a few things," he chuckles, crawling up your body so you're face to face.
You kiss him eagerly, tongue slipping into his mouth to taste yourself.
"I don't deserve you," you laugh.
"Let me show you how much you deserve me," he whispers against your lips, strong hands gripping your thighs to part them for him again.
#frank castle x reader#frank castle imagine#frank castle smut#frank castle fanfiction#frank castle#frank castle x reader smut#frank castle x you#frank castle x reader fluff#frank castle fluff#jon bernthal#murphy's 3k celebration#the punisher x reader#the punisher fluff#the punisher imagine#the punisher#the punisher smut
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— “Still wanna fuck me, Azzie?”
☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor az x bimbo/ditzy/popular reader
☀︎ — summary: you invite your tutor to a movie night and somewhere along the way it ended up with him giving you a facial
☀︎ — warnings: 18+, nsfw, oral (m. receiving), bimbo reader, virginity loss, making out, daddy az showing you what he has learned, getting your pussy pounded, possessive thoughts, jealous thoughts, az telling reader he wants to eat her out, rhys and cass make a cameo!
☀︎ — amara’s note: sorry for the wait, the smut was killing me but i hope you enjoy hookers!!
series masterlist
”Ahh, yes, oh my god!! Fuck me harder daddy, I’m gonna cum!!! Yes, yes, yesss!!!!”
Azriel slammed his laptop shut and stared at the wall, his face burning with a deep flush, dick stirring, and heart pounding.
Was this really how sex was supposed to be like? He had looked up ‘sex tutorial’ and clicked on the first link, which led him to a dark and inviting porn website. A million flashing signs about nearby milfs and pills to enlarge his dick by atleast 5 inches decorated the screen.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about the situation felt incredibly sketchy. Especially with the video he was currently watching; ‘cute next-door-neighbor gets fucked by handsome mailman.’
The theatrical moans and exaggerated expressions felt forced, fake and unreal. Even tho Azriel had never had a women under him, he wasn't naive enough to believe that any of it was genuine.
He huffed out a sigh and undressed to take a much needed cold shower. Your movie night plans were later this night and he wanted to make sure he atleast knew how to please you.
You had only sat in his lap and he had practically melted. While he loved that you knew what you were doing, he also wanted a sense of control and knowledge. Azriel always figured something out if he really put his mind to it, and best believe he would learn how to proper please you.
The line between what you two were had become increasingly blurry. Were you just tutor and student or could it be possible that you were both experiencing the same fluttering feelings?
Azriel kept thinking about how had he wanted to be with you, even though he had only known you for a few weeks. You were an absolute sweetheart to him, always clinging to him during the tutoring sessions and being a light in his life he didn’t want snuffed out.
After the shower, he made a decision to meet up with his friends for some advice before heading over to your apartment.
—
Rhysand's spacious living room suddenly echoed with Cassian's booming voice. “Holy fuck, you're finally going to raw-dog a girl?”
The surprising statement grabbed Rhysand's attention, curiosity sparking in his eyes. Just who had Azriel finally taken an interest in?
Azriel shot Cassian an unamused scowl, rolling his eyes as he sipped on the expensive scotch Rhysand had decided to test out.
“No need to scream, Cassian. Yes, I'm going to have intercourse. And don't call it raw-dogging. It sounds disgusting.”
Rhysand raised an amused eyebrow at Azriel's response. “Don't call it intercourse. It sounds too clinical.”
Azriel shrugged. “Fine. I'm getting laid, happy?”
Cassian chuckled. “That's more like it!”
Rhys rolled his eyes playfully. “Just be safe, Az. And have fun.”
Azriel slowly nodded, looking down at his glass, swirling the amber liquid around.
Cassian narrowed his eyes, studying Azriel's every move. Azriel lifted his eyes and met his gaze with equal intensity.
“What are you looking at?” Azriel demanded.
Cassian grinned mischievously. “Do you even know what to do? I mean, you haven’t fucked anyone before, so, do you know how to fuck properly? How to make a girl cum?” he teased.
Azriel's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he shifted uncomfortably under Cassian's scrutinizing gaze.
“I, uh... did some research,” he admitted, his voice slightly muffled as he avoided eye contact.
Cassian and Rhys exchanged a knowing glance, a smirk playing at the corners of their lips as they both realized what Azriel was implying.
“What do you mean research? Like you watched porn?��
Azriel's blush deepened, his ears turning pink as he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Uh, yeah... something like that,” he muttered, hoping the ground would swallow him whole.
Rhysand and Cassian exchanged amused glances before bursting into laughter, their chuckles echoing in the spacious living room. Azriel pushed his glasses up so they held back his hair and rubbed his eyes, stressed. After a moment, Rhysand clapped Azriel on the back with a grin.
“Don't worry, brother. We'll teach you all the tricks the ladies go crazy for,” he assured him, his tone laced with promising advice.
—
After a few hours of vivid explanations, videos, and personal advice on how to please a lady, Azriel was more than ready to make you happy.
Azriel stood in front of the snack aisle, feeling the pressure to choose the perfect treats. Snacking was usually his thing, but why was it so damn hard this time? Determined to get it right, he debated between chips that could leave him with sour cream and onions breath and popcorn with an overwhelming variety.
Opting for salted popcorn, he moved to the sweets section. Rummaging through his memory for your favorites, he snatched up two packs of your sour strawberry candies and tossed in a blue raspberry pack because it was his favorite, and he wanted you to try it too.
Finally reaching the counter, just before he paid, he glanced at the condoms on the wall. The old lady at the counter followed his gaze.
“You need some, boy?” she asked, her voice surprisingly loud in the quiet store.
He quickly looked around to make sure no one else had heard, then, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks, he grabbed a packet of extra-large condoms.
—
With your hands on your hips and a narrowed gaze, you looked at the options in your massive closet, feeling on the verge of screaming bloody murder.
None of your clothes seemed good enough for tonight, and despite the fact that it’s supposed to be just a movie night, you knew it was likely to lead to something more.
You'd rather die than be unprepared for what tonight might bring. Your overflowing walk-in closet wasn't cutting it at all, so you had to leave on a last-minute emergency shopping trip. And let's face it, running around in Saks with six-inch heels is no easy feat.
“Alice, it’s an emergency. I need to see the latest collection of lingerie from Agent Provocateur. I know they’re not out in shops until November but is there a chance you can let it slide? Pretty please?” you ask sweetly, flashing your signature smile.
Your usual sales assistant, Alice, whom you've gotten to know well from your frequent visits, returns your smile and gestures toward a private showroom, handing you a flute full of Moët as she leads the way.
A few minutes later, Alice returns with a whole rack in tow, each piece of beautiful lace underwear causing your jaw to drop in awe.
The collection was absolutely incredible, featuring intricate lace, luxurious silk, and sparkling Swarovski diamonds adorning the bras. Your eyes widened to the size of saucers as you watched her pull out each piece, unable to contain your excitement.
As Alice presents each set, her voice filled with enthusiasm and admiration for the craftsmanship, you watch attentively, absorbing every detail.
“This one features hand-stitched lace imported from France,” she explains, holding up a delicate bralette.
You nod, impressed, as she continues to another blue set, “And this one has intricate embroidery along the edges, giving it a touch of playfulness.”
When she mentions another set with sparkling Swarovski diamonds adorning a particularly stunning bra, you can't help but gasp in awe. You reach into your handbag and pull out your black card. “I need the entire thing,” you declare with conviction, your tone leaving no room for doubt as you're already envisioning yourself in every piece.
“Are you sure you want the entire collection, Ms. L/n?” she asks, a hint of surprise in her voice.
You meet her gaze with unwavering determination. “Absolutely,” you reply without hesitation. “I need to look hot tonight.”
“I'll wrap them all up and tell Pierre to put them in your trunk while you finish your drink. I just know you will look amazing in them,” she says with a wink.
You squeal with excitement, giving Alice a hug that almost knocks over a display. “Thanks, Alice! You're a total lifesaver!” you exclaim before darting out of the boutique.
—
Azriel thought he had prepared himself for everything, but nothing could have prepared him for how beautiful you looked when you opened the door. The wind was nearly knocked out of him as his lips twitched into a shy smile.
You flashed him your adorable grin as you looked up at him.
“Hi Azzie!! Come in, we’re gonna have so much fun. I’ve been looking forward to this forever.”
Before he could respond, you grabbed his hand and closed the door behind him. The moment he stepped inside, you enveloped him in a long, warm hug, nestling into his sturdy chest as you wrapped your arms around him.
“I missed you so, so, soooo much. Oh, I also passed my math test. Oh but only because I remembered your lame technique and used it.”
Azriel looked down at the top of your head and wrapped his tattooed arms around your shoulders. He was sure his heartbeat was dangerously quick, but he still pulled you in closer.
“That's fantastic news. I knew you could do it. I’m proud of you.”
He was bummed when you let go of him, but his mood improved when you took his hand and led him to the living room. You guided him to the sofa and playfully pushed him backward until he landed on the mountain of pink fluffy blankets.
“Make yourself comfy. I’ll be right back,” you said, grabbing the bag filled with snacks. Leaning down, you kissed him slowly, loving the way his lips felt against yours, before getting up and leaving.
Azriel grinned, feeling a rush of warmth as he watched you go. He couldn't help but let his eyes linger on your body, admiring the way you moved. Absentmindedly, he licked his lips, his thoughts consumed by what was coming.
Azriel leaned back, stretching his legs out on the cushions as he debated how to position himself. Should he leave one arm on the back of the sofa, inviting you to cuddle in beside him? But then he wondered if that was too forward and presumptuous, maybe you wanted some space.
He put down his arm and crossed them against his chest, but then realized he looked angry or something.
“I look like an idiot,” he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes in frustration. Finally, he decided to be bold and put his arms behind the sofa. After all, he did want you close to him.
He jumped slightly when you came back and had a tray filled with all the delicious snacks he had bought.
You but the tray down and sat on the sofa, crawling closer and closer to him as you put on the movie.
—
Obviously, neither of you were paying attention to the movie as you were both busy with feeling each other up and making out only 8 minutes into the movie.
He had started out by slowly rubbing your back. But you decided to speed things up, gently placing your manicured hand on his abs and lightly scratching. That seemed to be enough to set him off, as he immediately got hard and started kissing you needingly.
You pivoted, sitting on top of him as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. Azriel swallowed at the feeling of your soft boobs pressed against his chest.
His hands traveled further down your back, slipping into your shorts and starting to massage your ass with a firm grip. Meanwhile, his mouth moved to start making bruises on your neck, each kiss leaving a mark of his desire.
Your eyes widened at his confident move, noting how he had become more forward since last time. It was quite the change from the last time when he couldn’t even look at you without a shirt on.
It piqued your curiosity. Did he have someone else on the side? How was he already making you feel so weak? All he did was squeeze your ass and kiss your neck, yet here you were, grinding in his lap. So, you asked, your tone a bit pouty and filled with uncertainty.
“Hey, are you like, fucking someone else on the side?” you blurted out, your perfectly shaped brows furrowing dramatically as you pouted your glossy lips. You were feeling a whirlwind of emotions, and your over-the-top, dramatic ass reaction was a mix of concern and hurt. Even though you didn't have any evidence, the mere thought of him with someone else was enough to make you feel like you'd just die.
Azriel's cloudy, lustful eyes cleared up real fast, and he sat up straighter, a hand on your back to keep you from falling as he panicked at the sadness in your glossed-over eyes.
“No, no, no. What makes you think that?” he asked gently, his voice tinged with concern. Subconsciously, he rubbed your thighs in comfort, his own brows furrowing in worry.
“Because, like, you're really good now. And you’ve never even touched a girl before me, so what’s up? How did you even learn how to do make me wet?” you exclaimed, your voice high-pitched and filled with drama. Your glossy eyes were wide with emotion as you awaited his response, your lower lip trembling ever so slightly.
Azriel wanted to kiss that pouty look off your face but he wasn’t that bold yet. Just the thought made him flustered.
But wait, he made you wet? Cassian had said that girls getting wet was a very good sign because it meant he was doing something you liked.
“It’s not like that. I have not spoken to another girl, I assure you. But I did some research because I wanted to make you feel good. Do you feel good?” he asked curiously, with hungry eyes.
“Oh, okay, well that’s perfect! No other girls, okay? And yeah, I mean, I feel super good. Like, really, really good.” you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of airheadedness as you flashed him a bright, bubbly smile.
“Can I blow you, pleaseeeee?” you asked, your hands softly caressing his chest, your face hovering just inches from his. He chuckled, his fingers fidgeting nervously behind your back.
“You can do whatever you want to me,” he said, and he meant every word. It was official – he was totally head over heels, over the top, painfully in love with you.
You gave him a quick peck before sliding down to the floor and on your knees before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling the material off his body. His physique never failed to make you drool. You traced his abs, his muscles, his tattoos, and kissed on the tattoos down his body.
You played with the buckle of his belt, raising your head to meet his eyes before unbuckling it. You smiled giddily at his reaction, he had a look of extreme pleasure on his face as he nodded for you to keep going.
As you unbuckled his belt and took off his pants, he grabbed your hair and held it up for you, just the way he saw guys do when they we’re about to get head.
The move surprised you but not as much as when you pulled down his underwear. His dick was perfect in size, not small but not painfully big, girthy but not uncomfortably large. And the best part was the fact that it curved a little to the right. Fucking perfect.
“Big,” your ditzy mind couldn’t process more so you dipped and gave his tip licks before sucking on it.
His grip on your hair tighted as he gasped lowly when you started swirling your tounge around the sensitive tip. Azriel’s throaty whines and tighter hold on your hair made your eyes roll back.
Your tongue swiped across his tip, and it was warm. The sensation was even warmer when your lips wrapped around the head. God, and it was all so fucking wet and warm. Especially when you gathered the spit in your mouth, coating his cock as you pushed him deeper down your throat.
His stomach was on fire, face burning as he locked eyes with you — your mouth stuffed with his cock, big, doey eyes slightly watering when he was only halfway in. He had never really acknowledged how big he was, how the thickness of him would stretch out your lips like that.
And when you stuck out your tongue, dragging it along the vein on the underside of his cock, he nearly lost it. What little control he was desperately hanging on to. Because you on your knees before him, looking up at im with lustfull eyes was something he only ever thought of in his wildest dreams, but even then, nothing could compare to this feeling.
The feeling of your hand pumping what couldn’t fit into your mouth, spit drooling from the corners of your lips. Azriel was hyper focused on how your eyes never left his, his cheeks were on fire, the tips of his ears in flames, as he burned with every suck, lick, and stroke you gave.
And he was going to come, right down your throat if he didn’t warn you. The need to release raged in his lower stomach, his muscles worked twice as hard to reign it in. So, he cupped your cheeks with both hands, tilting your head so that your neck craned up at him. Through gritted teeth, he managed to bite out, “y/n, m’gonna cum.”
Your eyes widened with surprise because you hadn’t been sucking him off for long, but he was completely overwhelmed. Instead of pulling off like he expected, you only went back to it. Your motions quickened, your rhythmic pace abandoned as you worked him to the back of your throat.
You were determined to make him finish on your face. The thought excited you, imagining the sensation of his cum dripping down your cheeks.
And fuck if he didn’t finish. With your pleading doe eyes and sinful mouth, he succumbed to the pleasure, letting out a gasp of your name that pitched into a whine. He shuddered as his hips bucked upwards in jerky moves.
“Hah–holy shit, so-so good,” he whined, as he finally let go, busting ln your face, painting it white.
He collapsed above you, breathless and spent before he sat up immediately, his fingers tracing panicked circles on your stained cheek. “That was... incredible, and i’m sorry about your face. I-I’ll get something to remove it” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't help but smile at his words, feeling a warm sense of satisfaction wash over you.
You gave him a sultry look, your finger gliding across your face before you sucked on it. Then, with a seductive smile, you rose and settled into his lap.
“Still wanna fuck me, Azzie?” you whispered huskily, your voice dripping with desire.
The playful glint in your eyes ignited a primal desire within him, and he wasted no time in pulling you closer, his hands roaming eagerly over your body. “More than anything,” he whispered huskily, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss.
The kiss left you feeling a bit dizzy, your hands falling to your sides as you soaked in the intense sensation. Mid-kiss, he gently guided you onto your back, his lips pressed together in concentration.
He got on top of you, kissing your neck and chest, looking up at you and your expressions as he lined his cock up to your entrance, teasing and tapping your clit before pushing in with a groan.
Azriel was really fucking grateful that he had already come once, because surely with him sinking in slowly, your tight walls enveloping him in delicious heat, he would have come on the spot. Which would’ve been mortifying. Even more embarrassing than the needy moan he released when he bottomed out. It was louder than he intended, his eyes rolling back when you wiggled your hips to adjust to his size.
“Your dick feel amaaazing, m’sooo totally baking ya a cake after this,” you moaned, your eyes going crossed with pleasure as he pumped into you.
Azriel flashed you a shy smile as his brain went fuzzy with desire, body blushing from the heat coursing through his veins. His grip on your hips tightened, his movements finding a comfortable rhythm.
“So fucking tight, so good,” he whined, his forehead slumped against your shoulder as you wrapped your legs around his middle and your arms around his neck, reveling in his warmth.
Your nails scraped against his back, creating scarlet streaks as he kept rocking you into bed. Azriel felt like he was in heaven.
Azriel pumped into you, holding eye contact as he remembered everything he had learned, everything that allegedly made a woman go crazy. He brought down his thumb to circle your clit knowing it was something a lotta women liked. He just didn’t expect you to go absolutely stupid on him as he did.
You were moaning and writhing in pleasure, lost in the sensations Azriel was eliciting from you. He couldn't help but think that you looked much prettier than all those actresses with their over-the-top performances. Your pleasure felt real and genuine, and he loved seeing you like that, completely lost in the moment.
“mm-my goddd — harder, please,” you whined, nails digging into his back.
Azriel didn't dare to close his eyes, his gaze never leaving yours as he whispered about your beauty. A pressure built up in both of you, a shared desire that seemed to consume the room.
Azriel never swore. He thought it was a disgusting way for people to express themselves, and that only people who couldn’t use their words had to resort to it but he was breaking his own rule. You felt too good.
“You’re gorgeous, so fucking beautiful” he moans, hips thrusting at an unforgiving pace as you finally reached your high, moaning loudly, nails dragging across his back.
“Fuck, gon’ cum.” he panted, spilling his cum into your cunt. Azriel gave his final slow thrusts before he was pulling out of you, letting his cum seep out.
Azriel slumped next to you, eyes shut as he rolled onto his side, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he caught his breath. You released gentle sighs, snuggling closer to him, feeling completely at ease in his embrace.
“Did you… finish? Was it any good?” he asked as he kissed your neck tenderly
“Yeah, I came, like, really hard! You did a super good job, Azzie!! Totally the best i’ve ever had!” you said giddly as you crushed him in a hug
Azriel chuckled softly at your enthusiastic response, his lips trailing kisses along your neck. “I'm glad I could make you feel good, next time, I want to eat your pussy,” he murmured casually, returning your hug warmly.
Your eyes widened as your body warmed at his sudden and wish.
“Okay, only if i can ride,” you negotiated back with an exhausted smile.
Azriel nodded, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before gently bringing you closer to him. He then reached for one of the nearby blankets and carefully wrapped it around you, ensuring you were snug and warm in his embrace.
You turned on the movie, snuggling close under the cozy blanket as it played softly in the background. With the comforting glow of the screen illuminating the room, you drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.
—
“So? Are you just going to sit there, Az?” Cassian asked, practically on the edge of his seat
Azriel took a sip of his drink, unfazed by Rhysand's scrutinizing gaze.
“Yeah, we did it. Yes, it was good. Now stop asking,” he said, his tone casual yet firm.
Rhys leaned forward eagerly, a playful grin spreading across his face.
“Oh, come on, Az! We need more details,” he urged, his curiosity piqued.
Azriel chuckled, shaking his head. “No, you fuckfaces don't. But thanks for the tips. We had a hell of a good time,” he replied, his tone carrying a playful edge as he stood up and left them with their jaw dropped.
“Did he just swear? Am I dreaming?” Cassian asked bewildered, looking over to Rhys with raised eyebrows.
“He did,” Rhys confirmed with a chuckle, raising his glass in a mock toast.
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King Takes Knight
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader x Lando Norris
Rating: R
Words: 4.2K
Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut!!! P in V, oral (m receiving), fingering, slight public sex, handjob, small M x M, Mafia, etc.
Requested: Yes/No
Request: My formal request for mafia charlando ahahha. I can deffff see Charles being mafia leader in Monaco, inherited through family, goes generations back and then lando just recently got into it after moving to Monaco. And that’s why Charles let’s him take reader cause he knows he’s more powerful and he’ll get her back and lando with reader too. Ooo or maybe reader is in on it too. Not me cooking this up at 4am it’s time for me to go to bed
Synopsis: Lando hated that Charles had you, so when he takes you, he finds out he's nothing but a game piece.
"He's staring." The ghost of his words has you shivering, pushing back into your husband's body. His hand splashes perfectly on your stomach, pulling you back even more. "I know. He can't take his eyes off." You mummer, craning your neck and kissing the bottom of his jaw.
Your husband's hand squeezes slightly from your stomach to hold your neck. "Teasing him, my little mégère?" You whimper, the pressure of his fingers digging into your neck. "Giving him a show." You whisper, smashing your lips together. Your husband rolls his hips into your own. Tongues mixing, he curls his, laying his claim to you.
Mewling, you pull away, eyes drifting over to your husband's newest member. Lando Norris. An adorable Brit who joined not too long ago, his skin was kissed by the sun, eyes a gorgeous ocean green, and curls that make you want to pull on them. Lando kept to himself, but he was by your side whenever he was in the room with you.
"Maybe we should play a game with him, hm?" You rock back, watching Lando's eyes harden, ripping away from you and your husband. Oh, your husband, Charles Leclerc. Charles was the current head of his family, a mafia dynasty he has now inherited. No one could touch him, or you, for that matter. Charles was a force, an unmoveable object that was to not be messed with.
"I heard a rumor." Charles smiles, licking a strip from your ear to your shoulder before placing a slight bite on the bundle of nerves at the bottom of your neck. "And what was that rumor, my Queen?" Spinning around, you face Charles. Hair messy, the way you liked it. Wearing a tailored all-black suit with a red pocket square. "Lando wants to kidnap me." His eyes go black hearing those words, but the wolfish smile on his face tells a different story.
"Hmmm, should we play a little game?" You smile, pulling the front of your dress down. Grabbing Charles's hand, you place them on the curve of your tit. "Fuck, my little vixen. Am I going to have to fuck you here in front of everyone?" Shaking your head, you slide your hand down to the front of his trousers. Cupping his cock, you feel it harden, licking your painted dark wine lips. "I suggest I walk off to the garden," Undoing his buckle, you move closer so no one can see what you're doing.
"Lando will follow me, and," Charles takes a deep breath, watching as his men and others dance, drink, and get rowdy. "I can cry about how you aren't good to me, but you are excellent," Watching as your husband's eyes drop. Your hand is now in his pants, slowly pumping him from base to tip. "He'll kidnap me, most likely take me to that new summer house you bought for him," Charles groans, hands squeezing your tits, and he places hickies on them, laying his claim.
"Thought I didn't know about that?" Charles whimpers when your hand tightens at his base, watching his cock turn a gorgeous soft red. "Couldn't, fuck, help myself. The way his eyes light up, don't stop, when I gave him the keys, fucking hell," Charles gasps, hips shaking as you move your hand up and down faster. Only you could render the great Charles Leclerc to a whimpering, begging mess.
"Mhm, but he'll take me. Let me make him ours. Please, my King?" You make your eyes big, Charles groaning as you squeeze his tip. "Fuck, je te maudis, ma renarde . Je te donnerais le putain de monde. Tu as ma permission, je le veux aussi." Charles moans, kissing you as he spills into your hand. Pulling away his own lips, wear your dark wine color. (Curse you my fox. I'd give you the fucking world. You have my permission, I want him too.)
"I love you. I'll see you at the summer house." Charles smiles, kissing you with such softness you almost cry. Pulling your hand out of his pants, you lick it clean. Charles seriously thinks of keeping you. "Go before I never let you leave." Nodding, you rush off, slipping into the crowd.
------------------------
You knew he was behind you. He was a walking shadow. Where you went, he was there as well. He was never by your side but close enough to step in when you needed him. And right now, you're about to play with his feelings for you.
"Lando?" His body goes rigid, hearing the soft, broken tone of yours. "Mrs. Leclerc?" rushing to your side, you hide your face in his chest. His skin was warm. His shirt was opened slightly, resting your face on the skin, letting him feel those fake tears touch him. "What happened? What did he do?" Pulling you away, he wipes your tears away, smearing your makeup.
"He's horrible. Always makes me lie in his bed, and he's always with other women. Treats me like a personal maid than his wife. Made me watch what he does to his enemies. I'm trapped." You cry, curling yourself back into Lando. Lando growls, pulling you closer as he looks around. No one is around. This was perfect.
"Hey, it's okay. Let me take you back to the main estate." Smirking, you quickly wipe it away when Lando looks down at you. "I just want to be free, and I can't. He'll never let me leave." You whimper, and Lando's hands tighten on your waist. "Bastard, I can get you out of here." You pull back, sniffling. "Lando, I can't. He's my husband. I'm his property. I can't leave." Fingers tugging on his necklace, Lando's jaw tightens. "You can leave. You're leaving with me." His grip tightens on your arm as he starts to drag you.
"Lando, no. Let me go." You start to fight, but he refuses to listen. "Stop fighting me! I'm trying to save you." He roars, shaking you as you whimper. Playing the weak little wife of a scary Mafia King was so easy. You two stare at each other, a raging hurricane in his eyes and yours a mere rainstorm. "Save me." You whisper. Lando throws the door open, shoving you inside.
"Should we follow?" Charles swirls his drink, watching Lando move around the car and get in. Sitting up, he smiles, sipping it. "No, don't follow. I know where they are heading. Give it a week or two, and then I'll follow." Charles watches as Lando's car pulls out, driving into the night.
"King takes Pawn."
---------------------------------------
Two Weeks Later
The sea air brushes your nose, waking you from your peaceful slumber. Stretching, you smile, looking at the clear blue water. Maldives. Charles had bought Lando the home. It was odd that Lando would bring you somewhere like this. The poor boy was young, probably thinking Charles would check everywhere for you. Not considering one of his men would take his wife.
Shivering, you turn, seeing Lando's fingers run up and down your exposed back. You've slowly been reeling Lando in. Late last night, you woke to Lando asleep on your chest, hand cupping one of your breasts. In the night, you decided to disregard your shirt, Lando moving closer. A drowsy smile is on his face, watching you wake; the open-air bungalow was gorgeous.
With white sand beaches and water surrounding you, no one was around for miles upon miles. The place had no walls, just sheer white curtains covering you. "You should sleep some more." He whispers, nose bumping into your temple, ghosting it with a kiss. "I'm not tired," Lando hums, kissing your shoulder and reaching your cheek, stopping. "Water lily, please sleep. I'm sure this is your first time to sleep without fear." His eyes pleading, almost like a child.
You almost laugh but clamp it down so Lando doesn't grow suspicious. "Lando, I slept fine. Charles always left me alone when we slept. It was," You swallow, looking at your ring. You missed your husband. This was the first time in 8 years you've slept without him by your side. "He was kind to me at night." Lando drops his head on your shoulder. "Can we stop talking about it?" He asks, hating to hear that fondness in your voice.
He didn't know if it was because he was in love with you or jealous of how Charles paid attention to you. "I'm going to cook breakfast." Climbing out of bed, you throw on Lando's black button-down shirt, heading to the mini kitchen. Slamming his face into the pillow, he groans loudly. "Fucking dumbass." Lifting his face, he stares out at the rising sun. "She clearly loves him, even though he's a horrible bastard. A beautiful, smart, arrogant bastard." Lando can't control the heat in his face and the tingle he feels in his stomach.
"Lando, can we go out today?" He sits up, the cover showing off his chest and arms, which has you locking those naughty thoughts. "Water lily, that wouldn't be smart. We might be at the world's end, but your husband is very powerful." Face falling, you nod, going back to the kitchen. The ache in Lando's chest blooms, seeing the look that crossed your face. "Dammit." Fingers tug at his hair, feeling the frustration. Throwing the covers off, he pads into the kitchen, back to him.
"Mrs," Lando clears his throat, stopping himself. "Y/n, we...we can go out on the boat." Whipping around, your face glows with that smile he fell in love with. "Really? It won't," You pause. Moving, he wraps his arms around you, head resting on his shoulder. "No, it'll be fine. I'm just being overprotective. Mr. Leclerc is powerful, and while I'm from a family with money, he is on a different level." You can't control the coy smile. Glad that Lando can't see the gloating look on your face.
"We're in the middle of nowhere, and I doubt Charles knows you're the one who took me. He trusts you. He wouldn't even think to look here." Pulling away, you smile, pecking Lando's cheek, which has him blush. "Get dressed. We can leave in a few." Giggling, you rush off to get dressed.
------------------------------------------
You smirk as Lando tries hard to focus on driving the boat and not you. It was the bikini. Did the same thing to Charles when you were on your honeymoon. A trick you were taught a while ago was to take the top of the bikini and flip the top around so you tied the bottom around your neck and your underboob. It makes your tits look glorious, which has Lando's mouth watering at the sight.
"What's that?" Sitting up, you notice a large opening in the mountain. "Looks like a cave!" Lando yells over the rushing wind. Perfect, standing, you wobble back to Lando and push into his arm. His neck and jaw tighten at the feeling of you pressed into his skin. "Let's go explore it!" Pressing yourself closer, Lando turns the boat, slowing it down. "We have to be careful. No idea what could be there or how deep the water is." You clap, heading to the front.
"A sand bar." Lando slows the boat farther. "Come here, water lily." You run to the back, Lando instructing you to drive the boat as he pulls it in to tie it off. Watching Lando move in the sun, you lick your lips. He was stunning in a boyish way, but also, when he was serious, he was sharp like a diamond. "Alright, we're all good. Come on." Holding his hand, you take it as Lando helps you into the sand bar. "It's gorgeous." Gasping as you both walk to the cave. It was opened air, going far deeper than the eye could see, but you kept close to the open. The sand grew about 2 feet, the water ghosting it each time it waved.
"I don't regret marrying him." Lando freezes before you, he was searching for rocks, but hearing those words, he stops. "Why?" "Why what?" Lando turns to you, looking you up and down. "Why do you not regret marrying him?" Thinking it over, you smile, "He wasn't always like that. We, he, was my first, and seeing what he's become has been hard." Reaching up, Lando presses his palm to your cheek, watching you lean into it. "I'll never do that to you, never." Stepping into him, you move his hand to your waist.
"I know you won't." Lando and you stare at each other, unsure what to do next. "I want to kiss you, really kiss you, but I'm scared you don't feel the same way." Vulnerability shines in his eyes, fingers dancing with anxiety on your skin. "Trust me, if you kissed me, I'd never stop you." Hearing that, restraint breaks as he devours you. Lips move as hands land on your ass, squeezing as he pulls you in. "Easy, baby boy," Lando whines, hearing that he pulls away. "You forget, Lando. I don't do fast and needy. Let me show you the proper way to love someone like me." Lando nods his head, eager to learn.
"Show me, please." He whispers. You knew you could get him to be a needy mess right where you wanted him. He was the type of man to let you be in charge. Charles, you'd just need to suck his cock, but with Lando, just a couple of words and he was putty in your hands. "Good boy." Lando shivers as you move his hands to your waist. "Went straight for the ass, you have to work me up. Make me crave you there." Lando nods his head, watching.
"Now," Stepping from his hold, you untie your top, letting it fall. "When a woman wants you, it's subtle or straight to the point. For me, I'm subtle. Make you work for it, like a chess game. I'm the Queen. Do you know what the makes you?" Shaking his head, no, his hand moves, palming your tit. Biting your lip, you groan when he tweaks your nipple. "Don't worry, you'll figure out which piece you are." Stepping closer, you grab his other hand, placing it on your stomach.
"You're gorgeous, Water Lily." His fingers move slowly across your skin, watching your breathing stutter and grow. His eyes take in each time you make a noise or movement. He was learning, but in the back of his mind, he wondered if you had to teach Mr. Leclerc this. "Stop, I know what you're thinking." Looking into your eyes, you smirk. "Thinking about my husband when I'm here, rude." Chuckling, Lando pecks your lips.
"Shit." He was able to take you off guard, fingers brushing your clit making you arch into him. "Cheeky." He sticks out his tongue, but you lean in, sucking it in your mouth as you turn it into a slow needy kiss. The pads of his fingers rub small circles with slight pressure. He was learning, building it up slowly, making your body scream for more. "Right there, yes, that's, mhm," Lando adds more pressure using small circles as he curls his two middle fingers into you.
"Can I?" Eyes like a puppy, you almost feel bad for playing this game with him. "Of course." Mouth opening, you whine before moaning as his thick fingers enter you. "Damn," A look of concentration passes Lando's face as he watches his fingers work. "Water Lily, you feel so damn good around my fingers, can't imagine what you'd feel around my cock." He whispers, delicate kisses being placed on your chest.
Looking down, you lick your lips; Charles was longer, but Lando would definitely have some girth to him. If last night was any testament, he was very.....impressive. "Pull out," Lando does as you remove your bottoms, nodding towards his own. "Oh, um." Even in the dimly lit cave, you could see the bright red on your cheeks. "What? Never been naked in front of a woman before?" He looks away, fidgeting with the ties on his swim trunks.
"Lando? Have you? Are you?" You're at a loss for words. He was kind, funny, shy, and protective of the people he cares for. "Yes, I'm a virgin. That a problem?" A slight bit to his words, you could tell that he was nervous. "That's adorable. So you really are all mine." Fingers weave into his waist, tugging at the trunks. "Are you comfortable with this? To have your first time in a cave?" Pressing his forehead against yours, he smiles. "If it's with you, I don't care where it is." Tugging the trunks down, you watch as his cock slaps his hip, and a little moan passes your lips.
"What are you doing?" You couldn't resist but fall to your knees, wrapping a hesitant hand around his base. "Oh," He's at a loss for words, whimpering when you wrap your lips around his tip. Swirling your tongue, you start to move up and down, learning what he likes. "Water, god your, fuck," Whining, he fiddles with his hands, not knowing where to put them. Seeing this, you stop, moving them to hold your head, fingers resting on your jaw. "There, don't be afraid to touch me." "Mhm," Breathing heavily, he shivers when you return to pleasuring him.
"Y/n, fuck, I'm," You pull off, placing a kiss along his shaft and looking up at him. "Shhh, it's okay." Trying to compose himself, he nods, "Why'd you stop?" Getting off your knees, Lando is quick to wipe your knees off, making sure you're not hurt. "Because I want you to come in me." Like a fish, he gaps at you, at a loss for words. "Now, lay on your back." Scurrying, he moves as you straddle his lap, rocking your hips and slowly rubbing your lips over him.
"Please, enough, Y/n," He gasps, moving his hips up, giggling. You push them back down. "Shhhh," Pushing his sweaty hair back, you lean down, soft kisses on his cheek before nipping his ear. "It'll be okay, baby. I'll take care of you." Reaching down, you line him up, and rocking your hips back, you slide him in. Screwing his eyes shut, Lando takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He doesn't want to finish so soon.
Looking down at Lando, you place your hand on his chest and start to move. Eyes flying open, Lando stares at you with awe hands landing on your ass. "There you go, baby." Lando nods, hands squeezing as you drag it out forward and backward. "How pretty you look." Lando was pretty, sand covering his body, hair messy and so curly, eyes sparkling, looking like the sea. "Me, you're, fucking christ, a ugmh, goddess." Lando whimpers out.
Smiling, you move faster, adding a small swirl in your hips. "Shit, if you do that again. I will," You make a complete circle with your hips. Arching your back, you place your hands on his thighs as you bounce. "That's okay, baby boy. Don't hold back." You gasp, feeling that tingle grows in your stomach. "Here, with your thumb. Rub a circle." Removing one of his hands from your ass, you place it on your clit. Lando, taking instruction well, starts to do as you say. "Jesus, yes." You cry, throwing your head back.
"I'm, oh god." Lando scrunches his face as he stops his movements. You ride him out, feeling him in you. "There you go, such a good boy." You praise; Lando's thumb puts more pressure, making you gasp, rocking forward as you clamp down on him as you finish. "Shit," Collapsing on his chest, arms like jelly Lando wraps them around you. "I love you." Your eyes fly open, and every molecule in your body stops. Shit, fuck, damn, this was bad.
"You don't have to say it back. I know you still love Mr. Leclerc, but I wanted you to know." His fingers rub into your body, working out the tension. "We have to go before high tide comes in." Climbing off Lando, you're quick to get dressed, tossing him his trunks. "Okay," Fuck, you hated hearing that disjection in his voice.
------------------------------------------------
The boat ride was quiet, but you kept yourself curled into Lando, eyes closed. "We're back." Nodding, you jump off, wading to shore, and quickly clock the curtains moving. You swear you tide them down before leaving. Shrugging your pad into the area, stopping when you see a man sitting at the table. A chess board out.
"Char," He holds a finger up to his lips, silencing you. He looks you over, eyes narrowing when he sees the handprints and love bites over your body. "I can cook tonight. We can fix something unhealthy. Maybe pasta or," Lando goes to stone as he stares at Charles. "I wouldn't." Looking over, you see Lando's hand in the air, clearly going to reach for you. "Tell me, how was it running off with my wife? Playing house with her? Kissing her? Fucking her?" Charles growls out the last part, standing up.
Your body craves to be next to Charles, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms. You've missed your husband. The way he would wake you up with food or between your legs. He'd have your favorite drink ready and kiss you on the forehead. You missed his smell, a hint of vanilla and coffee.
"Stay the fuck away from her," Lando snarls, stepping closer to you, but you don't move to stare at your husband. His eyes move from Lando's to yours, melting when he sees the yearning in your eyes. "Come here." Charles opens his arms, steps forward, and is pulled back by Lando. "What are you doing? He was horrible to you." Lando whispers, fear and anger evident in his voice. "No, he isn't." Pulling away, you move, collapsing into Charles's arms.
"I've missed you." Charles smiles, kissing you on the head as he stares at Lando. "It's okay, my Queen, I'm here." Pulling away, you wipe your eyes, finally feeling home. "What, how," Charles moves you to the side, stepping closer to Lando. "What should I do with you? Taking my Queen, my equal. I should have you killed." "Charles," Lando looks at you, hurt, but then stares at Charles. "If you think that is fair, for this betrayal." He grits out. Cocking his head to the side, your husband looks Lando up and down.
"He is adorable, like an obedient puppy. Wanting to please its master." Reaching his hand out, he cups Lando's cheek, thumb pulling down his bottom lip. "Mhm, very good. He has that look of wanting to kill me or maybe fuck me." Lando rips his face out of Charles's hold, glaring. "Easy, little cub, you don't have those claws or teeth yet." "Stop teasing him, Charles." You ground out, growing defensive as you step in front of Lando.
"I don't need you to protect me." Lando moves, but Charles rips him back, holding him by the jaw. "Watch it, I don't care if you fucked my wife and took her from me. But, she seems to adore you. And I find you amusing." Charles looks him up and down, grip growing tighter. "A very nice Knight, you are the perfect piece. You almost took the Queen but can't take the King." Lando hates his internal battle between fighting and dropping to his knees.
"Charles, please let him go. You let us go, please. You want him as well. Stop this. You're scaring me." His hand drops from Lando immediately, pulling you into him. "I'm sorry, so sorry." Lando watches the terrifying man before he turns into this marshmallow of a husband. He can't watch this anymore, the woman he loves being consoled by her husband. Moving past, he stops seeing the chessboard.
All the other players except the King, Queen, and Knight were gone. "I'm the Knight." Pulling away from Charles, you wipe your eyes. "What?" Confused by his words. "You asked me in the cave," Cheeks blooming red, Charles raises an eyebrow, now very curious. "What piece I was, you're the Queen. Mr. Leclerc is clearly the King that makes me the Knight." Holding the piece up, you two smirking while Lando glares. "I'm not a fucking chess piece." Whipping it past Charles's head. "Go pack, love." Nodding, you walk past to the bedroom.
"Sit down." Lando doesn't move, the two men staring each other down. "Sit. Down." Wavering, Lando sits down as Charles steps into his space. "You are adorable. Those eyes must've gotten her to do anything." He mummers fingers, pushing back his curls. "I'm not a game," Lando whispers, trying to calm himself down. "No, but this whole you kidnapping her and making you hers was. Just you and me standing now." Plucking up another Knight piece, placing it on the board, and snatching the Queen.
"What do you want from me?" Charles looks down, smirking, feeling his pants tighten. "Right now? Nothing, but later. So much." Thumb tracing those plump lips. "Go pack, we're going back home." Swallowing a golf ball, Lando stands going to pack as well. Looking at the board, Charles smirks. "King takes Knight." Flicking the piece over, watching it roll onto the ground.
#f1#formula 1#f1 fandom#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x y/n#formula one#f1 scenario#f1 fluff#f1 smut#f1 angst#f1!mafia#f1!poly#mafia!charles leclerc#mafia!lando norris#poly!f1#lando norris fic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfic#lando norris smut#lando norris fluff#mafia!f1#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine
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night lights.
warnings: noncon/cnc ?, pervert heeseung, boob guy hee, reader's older (like 2 years?), reader's shy and sophisticated, virgin reader + experienced hee, dumbification, she says no (which is like noncon) but is enjoying it so its cnc, clicking pics and recording sex too ig??, indication of blackmailing towards the end, he masturbates alot. this is like real filth with some wild kinks. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK + minors dni please.
Lee Heeseung has huge secrets, everyone thinks he's a perfect boy with great grades and a promising future ahead... but little do they know. He's the biggest pervert you could come across. Just 19 yet he's obsessed with sex. He lost his virginity at the age of 17 to a 20 year old girl who rode his dick in a huge crowded party. he was so obsessed with the feeling that since then he's been having sex every week, different pussy every time and well he got blessed to have a huge, thick cock which he knew how to use well, oh and his amazing looks... got all the girls on his dick, ready to let him ruin them.
While you, Y/F/N... knows only the main thing. 'Sex is done to reproduce.' without too much of an idea, and neither you've ever felt any "dark" desire. Innocent little sweetheart who is focused on building up a career and leading a stable life. You love shopping, studying English literature and posting on Instagram. Your tits are so huge. It's as if your tits are honey and boys are bees, they want you and your body so much... but you don't wanna give it up.
Heeseung and you were in the same college but have never crossed ways until today. You were wearing a sage green dress till your knee, which showed alot of your cleavage, your sister always bought you outfits like those in hopes you'll finally have a boy in your life.
You were on your way to class while reading through your 'Wuthering Heights' notes quickly, not noticing your way as you bumped into a guy, falling on top of him. It was obviously none other than, Heeseung. It was a very bad collision. You fell in his lap, your arm hurting as he just stared at you with his mouth wide open, eyes on the main attraction, the huge tits that were almost slipping out of the dress.
Unknowingly his hand moved towards your chest, fixing your dress as you gasped softly and looked into his eyes. he felt your cleavage and the softness made him harden a little as he got up and helped you up too. "I'm so sorry." he apologized and bowed, eyes stuck on your milky white legs. "I'm sorry too! Please forgive me!" you felt really shy and guilty as you bowed, your breasts coming all out again as he moaned lowly and made you stand straight again, "hey it's fine. anyways, I'm heeseung. Freshman." you smiled at him while fixing your dress.
That fucking smile. His heart fluttered, and butterflies filled all of his stomach and he smiled too. "I'm Y/n, Junior." he nodded his head as her cheeks burned with shyness. "I hope we become friends." he winked and walked away, leaving you a mess because of how well that handsome boy treated you and even cared about how your dress revealed your private parts! so considerate!!
He had left straight for the bathroom as he then sat in cubicle, gasping to himself. " Oh wow" he said to himself as he then started wanking, he couldn't help thinking of her. Heeseung tries to use his negative emotions like, anger and all because he works his ass off all the time. So he mostly channels those emotions sexually, kinda hot.
~ ~ ~
The day had ended as you were by your locker, putting in your books and taking the one you're gonna study at home. as heeseung came running to you. "Oh my god- listen y/n do you major in English lit. ?" he asked her, acting all worried. as you nodded your head in confusion. "why?" you asked and he leaned on the lockers. "Okay so our teacher is making me get tutored by a very annoying girl so I told him I'll find someone else, and while looking for someone else I saw you. Do you mind?" he told her with a pout on his lips, and the look in his eyes, that could make everyone melt. "Hmm... I'm not that good at it but I can help."
heeseung smiled. " thanks alot!! btw, your number?" he asked with a pretty smile and you nodded while softly blushing as you both exchanged numbers and shook hands.
~ Timeskip to a month or so later ~
You and Heeseung sat in the hallroom of your rented apartment as you helped him out with the freshman English lit syllabus, wearing shorts and sleeve less top that barely kept your tits inside. "Okay let's take a two minute break." you said and took your phone scrolling through your instagram. you were wearing a really soft shade of pink which highlighted your hard nipples because of cold and your cleavage. Heeseung pulled out his phone and subtly clicked alot of pictures of them, from even different angles.
"hey, i'm gonna use the bathroom." he said and you nodded, very busy on your phone as he quitely went towards the bathroom but sneaked into your bedroom. he knew you won't look for him for the next 10 minutes, so he went into your wardrobe for like the 5th time this month and stole another pair of your panties, it was a lacy white one as he sniffed it and moaned. "Like always. even her fucking panties smell heavenly." he said and put it in his pocket as he went back outside.
he was a bit shocked to see you stretching from your spot, your complete breasts visible and ass in the air, as you lazily tried to grab the charger and your earphones. your hard pink nipples rubbed on the wool carpet getting harder as he felt his dick harden, he looked down and saw the boner. he sighed and coughed, making her gasp and sit back up, fixing her clothes. "Are you alright?" he asked and you nodded. "Let-let's get back to work!" you said and he shook his head. "Wait y/n let me help you." he said and smirked, he knew you were gullible and he could atleast get to touch your tits tonight.
He sat down, way closer to you than before. "Straighten your back." you were about to question but he shushed you and you nodded, giving up. You followed his command as he then leaned down, now his face was almost buried in your chest and your eyes widened. "Hees-" he silenced you and grabbed your tits using his hands. "Heeseung stop!" you said in an angry tone. "just let me do it, y/n!" he said and removed your shirt with one hand and held your hands tightly with the other one. he was so ecstatic to finally see the tits.
he hooked his lips on your nipple and started sucking on it aggressively while caressing the other one, you could feel wetness spread down between your legs. Confusion was what you felt, what's happening- why am i loving it..? she let out a string of hot moans as he grew harder and harder, he then sucked her tits really good, the nipples un-hardening slowly. he then pulled away.
"see. that's how they un-harden" he rolled his eyes and you looked into his eyes. "oh... thank you... heeseung.. can we conti-continue?" he shook his head. "I'm going home." you nodded as he left.
you didn't know or understand this feeling between your legs, as you went into your bedroom, touching between your legs and gasping. "Oh god- i'm just gonna sleep-" you gasped and hugged the pillow between your legs falling asleep.
And well in your sleep, you humped that pillow, thinking it's heeseung's thigh. oh your first wet dream!
while heeseung thrusted his dick into your panties, and also wanked himself off, moaning and grunting your name. how you moaned, your scent, the smell of you in the panties, your tits, your innocence, your beauty.. everything turned him on so bad as he grabbed his phone and wanked himself more and faster, watching you boobs.
~ The next week ~
For the full next week you were acting weird. turning red whenever heeseung was around, and not even avoiding him at all, trying to get closer to him. While heeseung enjoyed the attention and continued to secretly steal your panties and click lewd pictures of you.
For example,
He dropped his fork down on purpose and went down the table, where you sat with your legs open wide and enjoyed the food as he clicked a photo.
Then when you were busy looking for something under your bed, he got a picture of your perfect round ass.
Oh and when you thought he was in the bathroom and sheepishly pushed your hand inside your shorts, feeling and caressing her clit. that photo made him feel so fucking turned on. he litreally caught you touching yourself, he thought.
And last, when you had left your main door unlocked and he got in, you had taken off your lens and were showering, you didn't even see him when he got the most lewd of all pictures and videos. Photo and video of you squeezing and scrubbing your tits and them bouncing etc.
He was in love with your body and with sexualizing you. He was excited to fuck you and feel your pussy.
Today you went over to heeseung's so you could help him out with the work and studying as his exam was approaching. you wore the tightest and revealing dress today. it was till your thigh and super tight on the breast region making them pop out more. you had no idea why you were doing this but dressing up for him was fun.
you rang the bell and smiled as he opened the door. "hey y/n, welcome" he greeted as you walked in, taking of your jacket and hanging it. heeseung was done with life now, you're wearing a peach dress till your thighs which was flying everywhere because of the fan, showing him your black underwear and the fact your tits were spilling out and your nipples were visible, you weren't even wearing a bra.
he was now almost offended, she acts innocent? and then dresses like that? is she fooling me.. he pushed away the thoughts and led her into his bedroom as the two sat down and today you were helping him finish his sketches for submission. his arm was pressed in the region between your breasts as you led his hand and helped him sketch. "see, that's how you do it. you're bad at this." you said and continued to lead his hand, as your tits then rubbed on his arm.
That. drived him insane, but he held back and decided to play the same game with you. you giggled at his bad drawing and made fun of him. "Oh yeah? You're so mean" He said and started to tickle you as you giggled and fell backwards onto his bed as he was on top of you tickling you while you giggled and bounced. His eyes were stuck on your tits. "OKAY STOP STOP NOW."
He stopped and you looked into his eyes, seeing a certain look on his face which scared you and brought that same feeling between your legs. "Y/n, Can I?" he asked leaning in to kiss you as you let the thoughts leave your head and pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and let him lead.
His hands were next to your head as he softly kissed you, slowly speeding up and biting your lips. His hands ranged lower while touching your thighs and touching you sensually as you made out with while breathing heavily. Soon the reality hit you as you pulled away and tried to push him off of you. "heeseung no no-"
You were resisting him but the soft look in his eye had now been replaced by something darker, something more scary. Chills went down your spine and your pussy fluttered. "Shh" He whispered and started to leave a trail of harsh bites kisses from your chin to your shoulder blade. "I've been waiting for this moment. Don't fuck it up for me."
"Heeseung stop, let me go." you said as a few moans left your mouth too. He rolled his eyes and slapped your face as you gasped and looked at him with wide eyes. With one swift moment he threw everything that was on the bed away and pulled you closer to him.
"Are you nicely gonna take it off or should i tear it off?" He asked as you looked at him with doe eyes hoping he'd stop but the need in your eyes stood out to him more. "Fine." And there was your dress, left only in shred around your thighs.
Your tits fell out with a small bounce as he licked his lip at that view. He shimmied off the shreds and your panties to the side as you tried to stop him, few tears forming in your eyes. I want to feel more.. you thought but tried to kick him off of yourself. "Please stop this!!"
His hand moved between your legs harshly as the other one held you down, he rubbed your clit harshly and waited for your wetness to grow so he could put his fingers inside your walls while you complained and cried. His lips were abusing your tits like an animal, biting, pulling the nipple and kissing them. You were moaning and rubbing your hips against his fingers while he thrusted them harshly.
"It- hurts.." You cried out with your eyes closed and he smiled. "Just the way my dick used to hurt watching you in those tiny clothes love." He said and continued abusing your tits and pussy. The tears weren't there because of disgust or any negative feeling, you were crying because you were actually liking it. You knew your dad would kill you if he found out you consummated before marriage.
He was just there admiring your beauty as you threw your head back and moaned softly to his touches. He moved a bit away and stopped touching you as you looked at him. He was rummaging through his side table cupboard as he pulled out a vibrator. You were confused as you watched his click a button and put it into your pussy. "OH GOD-" you moaned and threw your head back.
He then took off his own clothes and started to rub his tip while watching you get off. "Need to get my dick wet myself because you're too dumb to do it for me." He tsked. He noticed how the area around her breast and her face had turned, there was drowsiness in her eyes. "M-my belly-" you moaned as he then stopped to pull the vibrator out.
"Please stop it heeseung... this isn't r-right" You whispered as his hands moved behind your head, and he grabbed your head by your hair. His lips were inches away from yours as he whispered. "I don't care." and there he was, pushing both of your hands above your head and pushing your legs wide apart.
You could feel it, all too much. Even the smallest of touch and the smallest sound in the nearest area, you could feel it all, hear it all. You closed your eyes tightly, slowly fighting the grip his hand had on your hands while he just slid his penis inside you, your faces inches away as a few more tears fell out of your eyes. "I hate you" You whispered out as you felt rippling pain with his soft motion. "D-DON'T!" Heeseung stares at you as you complain about the slight pain.
"Be a woman, Y/n." He whispered as he slowly started to move, taking his time and let the pain turn into pleasure. The moment it did change, it was too clear. You couldn't protest anymore as your hands moved to his shoulder, scratching and wanting him to increase his speed so bad but no word left your mouth except the moans.
"Fuck. this feels so good. so so good" he panted out like an excited child, but in a deep voice. You could feel the shivers on your back as you shook underneath him, letting your breasts bounce and jiggle with each and every hard thrust. Heeseung continued to pound into you senselessly, his eyes stuck on your breasts well it shifted to see your face twist into a pleasure-ful expression. "Gorgeous"
His hands were free now so they dived lower, rubbing your clit while he moved his hips graciously rubbing against THE stop. You felt these overwhelming feelings for the first time in your life, you knew you could just explode anytime and then there came the tickles in your belly. "My belly!" you gasped as you felt his pace increase, it was indicating your coming orgasm and well also how deep his dick was into you. It could be seen when he thrusted inside. "m-my god-"
"You're all mine now" he smiled, watching his cock create the bulge in your belly, proudly. He groaned when you clenched a little too hard on his dick. It twitched inside of you, as you felt him paint your insides white. That feeling broke your control too as you felt all of your tension and stress evaporate along with the "liquid".
You felt free, but little did you know by putting that small camera right in the correct corner... he might have changed everything, and made sure that you stay with him and only him.
#heeseung smut#heeseung#lee heeseung#heesung x reader#heeseung x yn#enhypen legal line#enhypen hard hours#enhypen imagine#jake smut#jay smut#enhypen hard thoughts#sunghoon smut#nct smut
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