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not-really-a-writer · 1 year

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Just Another Day

Summary: Each year, Love Day is just another day for you... that is, until a sweet clone trooper comes into your life.❤️❤️

Clone trooper Kix x reader

Warnings: NON CANON HOLIDAY "LOVE❤️ DAY" stuff and concepts (It's basically Valentines' Day y'all) fluff, dating/new relationship dynamics. Kix is a sweeeeeetheart and that's my hc till i die!

If you had remembered what day it was today, then you certainly wouldn't have worn your red sweater. You would have worn anything else. Literally anything else but that.

But it was too late to go back home and change. You brace yourself as you enter your office tower in the city. While on the transit train, you couldn't help but be bombarded by ads and displays along the way - Constant reminders of the special day it was today. A day that you had forgotten.

It wasn't hard to remember. The corporations made sure of that. Rather, it was easy for you to forget because the day bore no special significance to you.

Love Day was a day meant to celebrate romantic love on your planet. It wasn't meant only for couples, who proudly wore red to signify their taken status - singles got in on it too, as the day was also a fun day for those who were 'ready to mingle' to advertise openly without shame by donning green clothing. Those in more complicated relationship statuses wore yellow to signify 'proceed with caution'...and those who were less inclined to advertise their relationship status always wore neutral colors on Love Day.

So ironically, you trudge into your office, red sweater announcing to the world: Stop! I'm taken. But you weren't.

There was someone. But you weren't together, exactly.

----

Months ago, the 501st made stop on your planet. Their blue and white armor wasn't a completely unusual sight. There were always clone battalions coming and going from the city during the war. Your planet's close proximity to Coruscant and its manufacturing and ship repair facilities made it a popular stop for Republic forces rotating to and from the battlefront.

So on one particular day during your lunch break, you noticed one of them in your office tower’s ground floor cafe with you. Sitting to observe, you saw him for the first time - the man you eventually learned was named Kix.

It took some time sitting there, quietly watching him, but you did gain enough courage to talk to him. He was taking an unusually long time going through the caf garnishes at the cafe. Perhaps he was unfamiliar with the syrups and creamers available for self-service and needed some help. You can't imagine that the Republic provided anything but the basic dirty-water tasting caf available for the clones. You wanted to show him how good it could be.

"So uh.... do you need some help?" you asked shyly, giving him your friendliest smile. Kix turned to you with his mouth full of something to say, but he just smiled instead. A quiet "Maybe" escaped his lips, the warm cafe lights reflected in the darkness of his bourbon-hued eyes.

"That one's rather plain," you had said, motioning toward the syrup bottle next to his hand.

"Really? It looks good though," he replied, turning back to you with that dazzling smile.

This earned a small laugh from you. "Well, you can't go just by looks. You gotta taste it first," you had said, reaching for a stir stick. Gently taking the bottle from his hand, you squeezed out a few drops onto the stick. You balance the thick syrup on the flat part of the stick and bring it up to his lips.

Maintaining his smirk, Kix took the stick into his mouth, tasting the syrup that you called 'rather plain.'

"It's good!"

"You don't think it's kind of plain?"

"Hmmm.. wait till you try this one!"

... and so went your afternoon. Chatting away and learning things about each other.

And one afternoon turned into two. And then three. And five. And then it became a regular thing where you would see each other whenever he was on your planet. And then you talked while he was away.

But you never agreed on anything official. You knew you had feelings for him. But did he have feelings for you? You weren't sure.

----

"Ohh, someone's got a boyfriend?" You hear one of your coworkers tease. Oh the joys of working being slightly older than your coworkers. They always seem immature.

"Yeah. I forgot what day it was," you toss over your shoulder. A phrase you had prepared on the tip of your tongue the moment you realized you had made a mistake in your wardrobe choice today.

You make your way to your desk, and your cubicle mate, Korr, turns when they notice you. Closer to them than you were with your other coworkers, they lean over to you before speaking. "So, are you and that guy... official now?" they ask. "Oh... no..," you mutter. "We're not like that. We haven't had that talk yet," you admit.

You had never had a real boyfriend before. And you weren't sure how things transitioned from dating into a real relationship. So this was all uncharted territory for you. And it made you uneasy. So you never brought it up with Kix no matter how much you wanted to. And you had wanted to since you knew Love Day was coming up. If you had someone this year, it would be the first time that happened in your life. It would have been perfect timing since Kix was on your planet just the week prior.

The work day goes on, and you continue to be assaulted by prying questions from your coworkers. "Doing anything special tonight with your boyfriend?" and "Awww, did he do anything sweet for you today?" and "What do you have planned for this evening?" All questions you had no answers to since you didn't actually have someone special. Today was just another day, you thought. You and Korr work in silence together. They knew you well enough to respect your privacy.

The long morning dragged until early afternoon when you finally take a break for lunch to the cafe on the ground floor of your tower - the place where you had met Kix. Upon returning from lunch you notice something on your desk. As you approach, you see a cloud of delicate blossoms gathered in a vase centered on your workstation. Korr lets you know they were delivered to your desk while you were downstairs at the cafe.

"Curious..." you mutter, thinking this must be a joke from your coworkers.

The blossoms give off a lovely perfume, an exotic scent as beautiful as the planet of their origin. These were no ordinary blossoms. You retrieve the note to see what you're sure is someone else's name. Someone who's cubicle number closely matches yours which would explain the mis-delivery. Who would give you such an ornate gift for Love Day of all days?

You open the small envelope attached to the vase and see a handwritten note from someone familiar to you:

Hey Sweetheart. Sorry I couldn't be there for Love Day. I wanted to give these to you in person. Thanks for making my life special. I can't wait to see you again. I hope these make your day a little brighter - Kix

A warm feeling spreads across your chest and your eyes begin to brim with happy tears. No one had ever done anything so sweet for you on Love Day or any other day for that matter. No one had ever called you a pet name like "sweetheart" before. No one had ever told you that you made their life special, or that they couldn't wait to see you again. Is this what it is like to be loved?

You wipe your tears before anyone sees, and settle down at your desk to get back to work. Korr says nothing because they know you're just as surprised as they are. But you can tell they are happy for you.

And you were happy for yourself as well. What a surprise it was to know that someone special was thinking of you on Love Day, even when you had forgotten. Suddenly you feel a little more confident in your red sweater. Turns out it was a special day after all.

#clone trooper kix x reader #clone medic kix x reader #valentines day fanfiction

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cupcakeinat0r · 4 months

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<3 Valentine’s Breakfast w/ DadBod!Miguel <3

[NSFW]

With the sun rays flowing in through the curtains, your eyes flutter open, your blurred vision focusing in on the gorgeous man lying on top of you. This is usually how it is. You start the night laying on his hairy and soft chest, but after tossing and turning through the night, you two never failed to end up in this position. It sort of just happens. You believe it’s Miguel’s need to protect you in every sense of the word, so he just absentmindedly engulfs you in his sleep.

Miguel was a big man. In every way. It was sort of hard to breathe when he was on you like this.

But that was more than ok. In fact, you thrived on the feeling of all his body weight on yours, his face snuggled deep into the crook of your neck and his Herculean arms wrapped around you, not too tight, but just enough so that you weren’t going anywhere. And yes, his snoring was loud, but you learned to love it, it becoming the music to your ears on mornings like this.

It only takes you a few seconds for it to click.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You smile to yourself, excited about all things you have planned for Miguel. But first… to figure out how the hell you were gonna get Gigantor off of you.

Unable to move, your head isolated, you look around for ideas. With your free hand, you reach for the blanket, slowly pulling it off of him in hopes he’ll move off of you to wrap himself in it again. Your idea succeeds, and he frees you just enough for you to sneak off the bed.

In the most cautious way humanely possible, you sneak out of the room (not before you softly kiss his forehead) and into the kitchen. You weren’t too worried, though. Miguel didn’t get to sleep in a lot like this due to his work, but when he did, not even a geographical disaster could wake him. You were safe.

You start listing in your head all the things you remembered you wanted to make him.

Your hands were ace in the kitchen. Everything you made, Miguel loved. One of his favorite parts of the day was coming home after a long day of work and into the arms of his cute sweet little housewife, a plate of delicious warm food already ready for him on the table. It’s kinda funny; it’s you he blames for his weight gain, but you always reply with how much you absolutely love him that way, accompanied by a kiss and a playful smack to his juicy butt (which has also gotten larger, props to you).

You slave away in the kitchen, making sure everything was perfect, even down to exacting the edges of your heart-shaped pancakes, which matched the heart-shaped strawberry slices.

You go to check on the sleeping giant. He’s still knocked out thankfully, except he’s on his back now, hugging a pillow (thinking it’s you no doubt). Aw.

You notice that the blanket wasn’t on him anymore, which allowed you a beautiful view.

His dark wavy hair sprinkled with hints of gray tussled from his sleep. His 5 o'clock shadow framing his perfect, dark, plump lips. His thick neck, chest and arms, peppered with dark hair as well, resting beautifully. His soft midsection, rising and falling with each dad snore. Near his happy trail was a prominent tent, the print of his huge cock tightening his briefs. You bit your bottom lip at his morning wood. God, this man was too perfect for his own good. You could feel yourself salivate as you remind yourself of all the other things you had to get to like decorations or lighting the candles or the rose petals…

It doesn’t take much for you to give into your urges. He won’t miss the candles or any decorations anyways…

He’ll appreciate what you’re about to do way more.

You silently climb onto the foot of the bed, your face dangerously close to the bulge. You give it a small caress, your hands gently molding around the shaft on top of the fabric of his boxers. You look up when you evoke a barely audible groan from Miguel, who’s still asleep.

You apply just a little more pressure in your next caress, this time making his dick twitch and his hips faintly buck up into your hand, his instinctive neediness signaling you to proceed with your lustful endeavor.

You then lift the band of his boxers, his completely hardened cock immediately springing up. You have to literally suck in your lips to muffle a moan.

Your eyes drink in his perfectly shaped bush at the end of his delicious happy trail, the pumped veins going up his shaft, the singular drop of pre-cum already running down, and finally his fat tip. He was perfect.

You use the juice already there as lubricant, slowly stroking his dick, the other hand on his thick, hairy thigh for support.

You start to feel Miguel‘s thighs contract and hips slightly bucking up some more, little grunts escaping his lips. His arms tense up as well, his muscles clenching around the poor pillow.

His small, slow thrusts drove you crazy, not able to wait any longer to put your mouth to use. You test the waters by giving his tip soft licks, swirling your tongue on it in lazy, annoyingly slow circles.

This grants you a few quiet hums from him, his belly and round pecs rising and falling faster, his body telling you to keep going for him.

Faint ‘Ffuuuckkk’s and ‘Mmm’s were sighed in his sleep, brows furrowed, lips in a pout; signs that you were doing amazing.

You then take him in completely, hollowing out your mouth for him as much as you possibly can, because as mentioned before, this man is big.

You bob your head slowly a few times. It’s when you pull him out with a pop! and start treating it like your own popsicle does his eyes finally slowly open, his lips curling when he looks down at his now very cock drunk girlfriend with a satisfied smirk. His chuckle is low and silk-like, his morning voice making your cunt clench around nothing.

“Well,” his breathing remains labored, his jaw hanging open, “Good morning to you too, Mamita… Mmfuck.”

He says as you maintain eye contact, your lips wrapped around his long and thick member, tongue tracing along a vein. You pull away with a wet smack before saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy”, in the most sing song tone of voice.

Miguel tuts at your adorable yet seductive response, “ay, beba, so thoughtful n’ good to me…do that again...” he pleads.

“Like this, Daddy?” You ask, lapping your tongue over his tip just the way he likes it.

“Oh-oh fuck… si, just like that, mamita, así, goood girllll.” his head falls back against the headboard for a moment to sigh before looking back down at you again, seeing his balls in your mouth as your thumb works on his sensitive tip almost making him instantly burst.

You know he’s getting close when he starts panting, propping himself on his elbows and reaching a hand out to your scalp (it practically covers your entire head), gently applying pressure now that he’s in your mouth again. “Aw shit…. I’m close, mama, almost there… fuck, takin’ my fat cock so well, princesa…” He mutters apologies and thank you’s as he relentlessly rams into your mouth, his bush managing to meet the tip of your nose almost every time. He growls as he starts greedily thrusting his hips, face fucking his release into you.

You take your sweet time pulling him out of lips, making sure to get every single drop, your eyes on his the entire time. Once he’s out of your mouth, he sees you swallow, “Open,” and you do as he asks, “diablo, mami, eres tan sucia.” You begin to sit up, wiping your mouth, “Only for you, baby… C'mon, there’s some things in the kitchen for yo-“

“Oye, whoa whoa whoa,” He grabs your hand as you’re about to leave the bed and pulls you toward himself, “I didn’t say we were finished, did I?”

You fall into the bed again, Miguel guiding your hips onto his lap as he sloppily makes out with you, his tongue practically down your throat. “I’m not done with you yet, nena,” he mumbles against your lips.

He lays back down on the bed, “C’mere. Sientate.” He brings his hands up to his face motioning for you to sit on your throne.

You wince, now realizing you forgot that you had meant to shave last night.

“Babe, noooo wait... I haven’t shaved…”

Miguel furrows his brows, a confused scowl on his face.

“Mama. Look me in the face and tell me if I look like I care.” You begin to smile seeing how Miguel was starting to look genuinely mad at you for saying such a ridiculous thing.

“Now, I said sientate. I’m hungry.” He says sternly.

“You sureee? You really don't have to-”

“I don’t like repeating myself.” He commands. This man wasn’t playing any games. He was starving.

Your smile widens at his insistence. Your boyfriend was a real man.

Placing your hands on his hairy, thick body for support, you scoot your way up to his face, Miguel’s grin getting wider as your wet cunt comes into full view.

“So perfect for me, fuck,” His voice is sweet and tender now, planting a few equally tender kisses on your inner thighs, making sure to show them some love before you squeeze his head between them like a melon. “Te amo mucho, you know that, mama? Wanna make you feel good, beba.”

“Mhm,” You nod, biting your lip as the breath of his voice tickles your womanhood.

If Miguel could, he would just live in between your thighs just like this for all of eternity. His absolute favorite place in the whole world. “N' when I tell you to sit on my face, yo nunca quiero ir ese porqueria, understood?”

His stern tone made both your heart and pussy flutter. “Yessir.”

Your hands use the edge of the headboard as support, tentatively hovering your hips over his face as he showers your inner thighs with loving pecks and nibbles, the smack of his lips making your pussy clench again.

One of his big hands steadies your hips with a tight grip, the other moving your panties aside to reveal your unshaven lips.

“Prettiest pussy ever…. y todo es mio. Fuck, you’re so wet, mamita, did I do that?” He speaks mockingly.

You sigh when his lips kiss your clit, his tongue following shortly after by flicking it a couple times. You hear him grunt beneath you after having to lift his head off the bed to reach your hole.

"Baby, sit down. All of your body weight." He's short with his words. It sounds more like an order than a request.

"But Miguel-"

He breathes out, "You're really testing my patience, mama." And with that, his massive hands wrap firmly around your waist and pull you down, a yelp falling from your mouth as he feasts on your sensitive pussy.

Miguel is the definition of a munch. His head movement adds to the stimulation, moving it up and down, side to side; any effort to submerge his face deeper into your folds. His nose, the perfect size and shape that brushes against your clit while he simultaneously slurps and tongue fucks your cunt. The vibrations of his ‘Mmmph’s, the scruff of his face rubbing against your inner thighs, and softly pressing your clit between his tongue and front teeth were the cherry on top.

Your sounds are pornographic as he eats you out. When you're unable to sit up straight anymore due to the immense pleasure, you lean back, hands landing behind you on his soft pecs, pushing into them in an effort to get some kind of break, but Miguel wasn't having it. Plus, he was way stronger than you. There was no escaping him. A small part of you wondered how he was going so long without coming up for air, but you quickly answer your own question when you remember that your man loves to eat, and when he does, he’s like a starved man. Each time you pushed, his grasp only got stronger, but as much as you pushed, you truthfully didn't want him to stop. Ever.

"B-baby, baby… I- I- c-can't," you cry, unable to speak without stopping mid-sentence to let out a whine, "I'm so close, Daddy, don't stop, please, don't stop, don't stop!" You became a broken record, all sense leaving your body. The only thing on your mind was Miguel's mouth ravishing your weeping cunt. You sat forward again, now tugging on his hair, making him hum further and fueling his hunger. "Mmmph fuck! I won't mama, I won't, don't worry... I'll give you whatever you want," You began to literally ride his face, desperately chasing your climax with his hands slapping against your ass. Miguel was in heaven with this view, bucking his own hips into the air from how perfect you looked like this.

“Mmm… such a dirty fuckin’ girl you are,” smack, “wakin' me up like this… ay, que ricoooo, sabe tan dulce,” smack, “puta madre, Puedo vivir de este coño y nada más…” both his voice, an octave lower, and the wet, sucking sounds of his mouth helped uncoil the knot in your stomach, bursting on his handsome face.

Your hips stutter and your jaw falls open when you cum, Miguel drinking in your juices as if he’s been stranded on the Sahara for weeks. You could’ve split his skull into two, that’s how hard you pressed your thighs together, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Miguel finally lets you go, allowing you to sit on his chest now, both of you catching your breaths. He smirks back up at you, and you roll your eyes, blushing. "awww, mi princesita gets all shy when I make her cum, eh?"

"Leave me aloooneeee." With Miguel’s big hands as support and guidance, he rolls over, so he’s still in between your legs, but you’re now the bottom, and him the top. With your legs now around his waist, He chuckles at you and goes to kiss your flushed cheeks.

Then he goes in for a sweet, romantic kiss on the lips. You feel safe and taken care of while feeling his body weight on you again, his soft tummy against yours and his big muscly arms wrapped securely around you. You can feel his cock twitch against your overstimulated cunt, completely soaked from his second climax from simply eating you out, no doubt. He moves any hair on your face aside, caressing your cheek when he does.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, princesita. Have I told you how much I love you?” He coos, pure adoration in his eyes.

You manage a soft, tired smile, “Every day. I love you, too.” you chuckle, “Oh! I made you breakfast! You must be hungry, baby…” you say, as you start getting up.

He gently stops you, and you lay back down.

“I am… but not for food.”

Safe to say the feast you prepared was cold by the time y’all got to the kitchen<3

Hope u liked it <3 It's a bit longer but I've been thinking alottttt about this tee hee!!!

This is a culmination of my thots and the thots of some of my hot moots, so Tysm @mybvalentine @gltzpzy for the ideas <3

Happy Valentine’s season, my loves!!! Wishing everyone not only a day but a whole new year of love. Not just romantic love, but also the love of your friends, family, and above all, the love for yourself <3

Speak to yourself kindly, treat your heart nicely, and consume all the chocolate!!!! You deserve ittt!!!

P.s. n if u don’t have a Valentine’s, I’ll happily be urs 🤭 MWAH!

- Cupcake xoxo

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

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pink roses

words: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ only!!, smut, female receiving oral, CHEATING!, ex!rafe, mentions of violence and drinking, its valentines day during the second part of the fic :)

you moved on. thats what you tell everyone. absolutely over rafe, even got a new boyfriend.

you definitely don’t think of your ex every time you kiss him or hold his hand. definitely don’t think of rafe when your new man is between your legs.

“hey baby.” darren says, giving you a tight hug after you open the door, not cradling your body against his like rafe used to.

“hi.” you smile, letting him into your house. “just give me like five minutes to touch up my makeup then we can head up.” “okay.” darren nods. you frown as you walk up the stairs, knowing its not the response rafe would have given you. he would have said that you already look perfect, not needing to touch anything up (though you would absolutely still reapply blush and swipe on some more lipgloss).

you don’t even feel like going to a party tonight, only going because darren has some friends that he wants you to meet. truthfully, you know you’re using darren. you know that he’s just a fling to get over rafe, and you feel guilty when he clearly values you and wants to show you off.

“ready!” you call as your heels click down the stairs.

“perfect.” darren smiles, placing his hand on the small of your back as he guides you out to his car, having to tug your dress down to not reveal yourself as you lower into the passenger side of his sedan.

“where is this party at anyways?” you ask, inspecting your fingernails, freshly painted in a lightly shimmery pink.

“topper thorton.” darren says. he must see your face go pale. “why, do you know him?”

“uh, yeah.” you pick at a nonexistent thread on your skirt. “he's my exes friend. you know, rafe. the one everyone warned you about.”

you chose to rebound with darren because he had just moved to town, wouldn't be scared into silence from rafes reputation alone.

“ah, damn.” darren says, but doesn't ask if you still want to attend. you know you're going to see rafe, and you're honestly not sure if you can see him touching other girls.

you are quiet until you get to the party, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as darren leads you inside, the music bounding out of the speakers, so loud it almost shakes the house.

“y/n!” toppers eyes are wide when he spots you. “didn't expect to see you here.”

“yeah…” you suddenly feel awkward and insecure in your dress, tugging the hem lower.

“rafe is um… rafe is on the patio. i would avoid him if i were you. he's… he's not the same since the breakup.” topper nods to you before walking away.

“you said this rafe guy broke up with you, right?” darren asks.

“yeah.” you nod, feeling like you can't form any other word.

“then why does he care? who cares if he sees you? im not letting some random guy stop me from going where i want with my girlfriend, come on.” darren grabs your hand, tugging you towards the back of the house.

“darren, no!” you shout, but he's moving too quickly, the music too loud for him to hear you yell, and before you can grind your feet to a halt, you're out on the patio. your eyes flicker around, trying to pick the familiar face out of the crowd when you suddenly see rafe, his eyes already bouring into you.

“come on, let's dance baby!” darren says, your gaze fixed on rafe as darren moves behind you, grinding into your bum. you can't move, stuck in the power of his blue eyes.

“do you not like this song?” darren asks, having to shout into your ear as someone turns the music up impossibly louder.

“i told you, my ex.” you say, line of sight being broken by dancing bodies, finally allowing you to take a deep breath and move, turning to face darren.

“what? you not over him or something?” darren asks, his expression suddenly turning a mix of anger and disappointment.

“no!” you echo what you tell everyone. “no, it's just the first time ive seen him since the break up. it's just… weird.”

“okay.” darren says, but you can tell by his tone that he's going to bring it up later, and it's not really the end of the conversation, just for now.

“shit, there's my boys!” darren's expression quickly changes. you watch as he daps up two guys, who he then introduces to you, but you don't even hear their names, barely able to nod and smile, putting on a pretty face while your mind is other where. you know that's all you're truly there for anyways, a nice grin and tight dress for darren to flaunt.

he leads you back inside and away from the loud speakers so he can sit and chat with his friends. your eyes continually scan the room and the entryways, waiting to see those blue eyes and sandy blond hair.

“darren, baby, im gonna go use the bathroom.” you tell him as he takes a sip of his beer. you just need to move, feeling like a sitting duck just waiting for a predator to strike.

“alright.” darren literally waves you off, too enticed by the conversation his friend, who you thinks name is matt, or maybe mark. miles?

you stand up, having memorized the layout of toppers house from parties with rafe. you know the most private bathroom is upstairs and inside of one of the tucked away guest room, a guest room rafe often took you to.

you push past people to get to the stairs, dodging couples making out on the steps as you make your way up. you sigh when you finally get the guest bedroom door closed behind you, glad to be alone and somewhere somewhat quiet compared to the sensory overload of the rest of the house.

you turn towards the room, ready to head towards the bathroom door when you see a slight movement in the shadow. you reach behind you for the light switch, feeling across the wall, sure that your eyes are just playing tricks on you, but as the ceiling light illuminates the room, you come face to face with the one man you didn't want to see.

“rafe, i-” you cut yourself off. you don't know what to say, have no excuse. a small part of you knows you said you had to use the bathroom just to get back into this room, look at the bed that rafe took you on so many times.

“he's not as tall as me.” rafe says. “you hate guys with that color hair.”

you urge your hand to reach for the doorknob and flee, but rafes deep voice keeps you captive.

“i would never ignore you like he does in favor of stupid fucking friends.” damn, so rafe was watching, and you couldnt even tell, probably too far in your own head.

“and im sure he doesn't fuck you like i do.” rafe steps towards you, having to round the bed from where he was leaning against the corner of the wall. “tell me y/n… does he make you cum as much as i do?”

“did.” you manage to bite out. “in case you forgot, you broke up with me. not the other way around.”

“i didn't expect you to settle for such trash.” rafe is now only feet away. he smirks as his eyes glide down your body and tight dress before landing back on your face. “you look stressed, baby. he's not giving it as good as me at all.”

rafe sighs like he truly cares about the kind of service you're getting in the bedroom.

“he's fine.” you argue back, the best defense you can manage. rafe was always able to tell when you were lying.

“so if i offer to eat you out right now, you'd say no? don't want my tongue, baby?”

“this isn’t fair, rafe.” you say bluntly. “you can’t break up with me only to tease me like this.” “get on the bed, underwear off.” rafe simply commands. your body moves before your mind does, still trained to his instructions. and once your underwear is on the floor, you figure theres no point in stopping now.

you do think briefly to darren, chatting innocently away with his friends downstairs, not a clue that your ex is about to go down on you, but when rafe lays between your thighs, your thoughts couldn’t be farther from darren.

“the most gorgeous pussy i’ve ever seen.” rafe says, pushing your dress further up your body. “missed her so much.”

rafe leans forward, tongue instantly zeroing in on your clit, switching between rubbing with the tip of his tongue and lapping over it in broad strokes.

“oh fuck!” you moan out, head pressing back into the pillow, sure to ruin your perfect hair.

“little bit louder and your new boyfriend might hear you.” rafe smirks before letting his tongue explore your cunt, even slurping at your juices.

“shut up, you’re so fucking unfair.” you groan, but reach down to grip his hair and push his face further into your pussy.

rafe shows you just how skilled he is with his mouth. there really is no comparison to darren, who you swear things your left lip is your clit.

rafe focuses in on your entrance, tongue sweeping in tighter and tighter circles until it juts forward into your hole, taking a moment to appreciate being back inside your tight heat before he begins to thrust his tongue, his thumb moving to rub your clit.

“tell me i’m better.” rafe says, barely pulling away to speak the words. “no.” you shake your head. you shouldn’t give rafe the satisfaction of admitting it, as if your moans aren’t evident enough.

“tell me or i’ll stop right now. won’t make you cum.”

“fine.” you close your eyes, as if somehow not seeing rafe makes it less like you’re cheating. “you’re better than him. just, please.”

you’re not above begging. you wish you could say that you were better than that, better than getting into bed with your ex the first time you see him.

“there’s my good girl.” rafe purrs out in his oh so seductive voice. he resumes movement of his thumb, rubbing you just the way you like, knowing it brings you to the edge quickly as his tongue continues to thrust inside of you.

“oh, oh my god! rafe!” you shout his name as his thumb quickens until it’s all too much, a flood of wetness gushing out as your back arches off the bed, hands gripping at the duvet. rafe continues his movements as your high works its way through your body until the snap of sensitivity hits and you have to shove his hand away.

you blink your eyes open, vision slightly blurry as you look down at rafe between your legs, face going pale when you realize that you didn’t just cum, but squirted, leaving rafes face dripping.

“holy shit, it really has been a long time since you came if you’re squirting like that.” rafe chuckles, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, only for his tongue to dart out and lick the juices off his skin.

“you-you-” realization comes flooding back of what you just did. you may know that you’re using darren, but you never intended it to go as far as to cheat on him.

“i only did what you wanted me too. even if you couldn’t admit it to yourself.” rafe moves up to a kneeling position, his cock clearly straining against his pants. “want me to fuck you now baby? i know you’ve missed this big dick.”

“no!” you snap your thighs together, mind much clearer now that you’ve gotten your orgasm. “no, i-i have a boyfriend!”

“go downstairs and break up with him and then come back up here and let me hit.” rafe says, tapping your hip to get you moving.

“i am going downstairs.” you say, swinging your legs off the bed. “but it’s because this was a mistake.” you grab your underwear off the floor and put them back on before attempting to readjust your dress and hair to acceptable levels, well aware that darren must be wondering where you are by now, having been gone for so long.

“baby-” rafe tries to stop you, but you’re already out the door.

“oh baby, this is so sweet!” you plaster on a fake smile. you were easily able to explain to darren what happened at the party a few weeks ago. you got caught up talking with some old friends and the time slipped away from you. not completely a lie.

you’ve avoided being out in public at all for fear of seeing rafe. you’ve even manage to banish most thoughts of him. most… except for when he forces his way back into your mind when your fingers are in between your legs, finishing yourself off after darren had gone to sleep next to you.

“a beautiful red rose for my valentine.” darren gives you a kiss on the cheek as you smile at the rose. it’s a nice gesture, it is valentines day after all and he is your boyfriend, but you just don’t feel in the spirit of the holiday, mostly because you aren’t in love and are just waiting for the right moment to break up.

you pull out your phone, opening up your instagram and snapping a photo of you holding the red rose, quickly uploading it to your story.

“what else do you have planned for today?” you ask darren, but his face quickly grows pale and you realize he doesn’t have anything else planned, thinking a singular red rose was all he needed to please you.

“we could go to the park later.” he recovers quickly. “have a nice picnic.”

“okay, sounds good.” you nod. “i’m gonna go put this in water.”

you flee quickly to the kitchen, leaving your boyfriend sat in your living room. your parents are rarely home, spending all of their time traveling when your dad isn’t working out business deals, and it feels like darren has practically moved in since they’re rarely home, and it’s only causing a bigger divide in your relationship.

you get the rose put in a vase with some fresh water when your phone vibrates from your pocket. you grab it out, eyes widening when you see that rafe has replied to your story.

doesn’t he know you like pink roses?

the doorbell rings, making you drop your phone with a loud clatter onto the countertop.

“i’ll get it!” darren calls out before you can process the sound, suddenly rushing after him as he opens the door to reveal rafe standing on your doorstep, not just one pink rose but an entire armful of them, the largest and most beautiful bouquet you’ve ever seen.

“who the fuck are you?” darren asks, but rafe looks right past him to where you’re stuck frozen in the foyer.

“i’m giving y/n the valentines day flowers that she deserves.” rafe pushes past darren with ease, transferring the large bouquet into your arms.

“and you’re getting the fuck out.” rafe turns to darren, now blocking him from moving back into the house.

“fuck if i am.” darren laughs. “and she’s my girlfriend.”

“she’s only your girlfriend because i broke up with her knowing she was too good for me and needed to find someone better, but instead she settled for you.” rafe turns his head to look at you, his voice softening. “it’s okay, sweetheart. i don’t blame you.”

“lets let y/n decide.” darren says, rightly deciding not to fight rafe, being smart for once in his life knowing rafe would easily annihilate him, but wrongly thinking that you would choose him.

“get out.” you say, eyes moving to darren. “get out, darren. i don’t even like red roses.”

“baby-” darren begins to argue, but then rafe surges forward, shoving him out of the door before slamming it in his face.

rafe takes a deep breath before turning to you, looking so small with the roses drowning in your arms.

“i’ve missed you.” rafe moves towards you, his hands cradling your face and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “i’m sorry for breaking up with you, princess. thought you could do better.”

“i’m just glad you’re back.” you lean forward, rafe quickly understanding that you’re asking for more kisses as his lips glide over yours, familiar and warm.

“let me carry these for you.” rafe scoops the bouquet out of your arms. “and then you can go ahead and get ready for all the things i have planned for today while i gather your exes shit and make sure he knows to never come back here again.” you giggle and follow rafe, knowing you should feel bad for dragging darren into the mess that is rafe, but you’re just happy that he served as a distraction before rafe came back.

rafe walks up to your room, glad to be back in your house. he realized seeing you with a new guy how much of a mistake he made and knew it had to be corrected.

rafe sets the roses on the bench at the base of your bed before frowning at the bed itself, your side clearly neatly made while the side that used to belong to darren is a mess still, showing a complete disrespect for how you like to keep your belongings.

“i’m trying to decide between fucking you on the sheets he used to sleep in or taking them outside and burning them.” rafe says, placing his hands on his hips.

“maybe…” you wrap your arm around rafes waist as you bury your head into his back. “we add buying new bedding to your valentines day plans?”

rafe turns around to take you into his arms, eyes soft as he looks down at you. “you’re always gonna be my valentine from now on, baby. i love you.”

you shift your weight to your toes as you lean up to kiss rafe, his mouth slowly moving over yours as you make out, feeling him swell against your lower stomach.

“i don’t think i can wait until after we buy new bedding, baby.” rafe groans.

“well… i do need to take a shower before we go.” you smirk, walking backwards towards your attached bathroom, slowly unbuttoning your pajama shirt.

“and you know how much i love to conserve water.” rafe chuckles, following you as your clothes hit the floor.

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pascals-doll · 4 months

Text

bed of roses

ellie williams x reader

🫧 continuation of candy | u dont have to read it since this can be a story on its own!

🫧 TYSM FOR ALL THE LOVE ON THE VDAY SPECIAL 🥹 i hope you cuties enjoy pt 2!!

🫧 thinking about ellie’s strap all day 🥲

🫧 description: smut smut smut, very cute surprise at the end!, valentines day surprise, dom!ellie, sub!reader, reader gets fingered on stairs, fingering (both receiving), strapon!sex (reader recieving), ‘p’ in v sex, panty sniffing (ellie), body worship (reader receiving), power dynamic, back scratching (ellie receiving), finger sucking/gagging, no use of y/n, use of pet names (pretty mama, mama, doll, pretty doll, and babydoll),

“augh-god! ellie” you moaned out, your hand going to grip the stair-railing as you swore you started seeing clouds.

after completely devouring ellie on the staircase, you guys calmed down momentarily.

catching each other’s breath, sharing soft kisses as ellie tells you how much she loves you.

until she began to kiss your neck which eventually lead to her sucking all over both of your tits as her fingers fuck you relentlessly.

“the prettiest tits in this entire world” ellie utters against one of your tits as the other is messily palmed by ellies hand.

“ellie s’good-augh fuck m’gonna cum!” your moans got louder as the forming of your words got sloppy, not being able to comprehend shit in your fucked-out mind.

“oh the night is just gettin’ started mama” she pulls away from your nipple, smirking at you like she was hell’s #1 sinner.

your mouth goes agape, eyes squeezing shut as your feel ellies fingers fuck you through your orgasm.

ellie’s fingers curling into your pussy causing your back to arch within her lap.

“good mama, thats it. cum all over my fingers” she encourages you, slightly moving your hips along with the movement of her fingers.

ellie craddled you as your orgasm melts you into her embrace, legs completely limp in her lap.

ellie planted the softest kisses on your face and forehead “dont get tired yet, babydoll” she whispers in your ear as she runs her hands through your hair.

once you felt yourself coming back into reality, you lifted your head up from in-between her shoulder “we-we should pick up your poor teddy bear” you state weakly, giving her a soft grin.

“yes, ill get it mama” ellie returns your smile, chuckling sweetly.

ellie helped you up, giving your ass a squeeze through your mini skirt “perfect lil’ass” she states playfully, licking her lips.

“shut up and tell me you love the bear” you tell her, just wanting her to come close to you; missing her warmth.

she continues to walk over to you, stepping up the couple steps of the staircase before you meeting you halfway on them.

she bends down to pick up your bra, not caring much for you shirt.

“i-” ellie begins before stopping to plant kisses all over your face and neck, once again but this time she crouches down slightly; scooping you up.

“fucking love the bear” as she completely takes you into her arms.

you let out a squeal out of slight surprise as ellie scoops you up, using most of her strength. you wrap your arms and legs around her, your mini-skirt riding up.

her hands squeezing your ass as she walks up the stairs.

ellie walks down your shared hallway, you in her grasp as you kiss along her neck and toy with her hair.

you didnt miss each pathway of petals that scattered the wooden floors as you got closer to your shared bedroom.

your heart felt like it was going to palpitate out your chest. your mind couldn’t begin to process how lucky you got.

once ellie arrived into your shared room, she put you down gently “dont turn around yet” she says, moving from infront of you to guide you while also making sure you couldn’t see.

“you can turn around now” the second she says that, you wasted no time turning around.

your jaw immediately dropped to the floor as you see a small light-sign that lights up the words ‘you and i forever’, roses and petals all over the floor and bed, and lastly with 3 different heart-shaped boxes of chocolate.

that wasn’t it, ellie had one more surprise but you were just gonna have to wait.

“you-i-you” you tried to speak, but you could barely form a sentence as ellie yet again, found the way to take the words right ouf your mouth.

“just hold on here, yeah doll?” she asks, kissing your temple softly. you gave her a quick nod before she headed into your shared closet.

while she was in the closet, you took upon yourself to quickly grab your pink silk lingerie robe from your dresser.

you stepped out of your mini-skirt since you were already shirtless; leaving you only in your pink heart design thong.

you put the silk robe on, only covering you from being completely naked since you already basically were.

ellie stepped out of the closet in her sports bra but still having her boxers on.

you were on the bed, you had already put aside all the gifts that were on the bed. you weren’t wasting no time.

“you’re so fuckin’ breathtaking” ellie utters breathlessly. she had to let her eyes take you in from head to toe, wether you were wrapped up like a burrito or completely naked goddess statue; you looked absolutely enchanting every single time.

you could completely entice ellie at any give moment, you had her under your spell with just a look.

“take all of me, ellie” you whimper out, extending your leg to reach out to her as she stalked over to you.

“say it again, doll” ellie’s eyes were engulfed with hunger, getting ready to ravish you. she finally crawls ontop of you.

one hand holding her up as it pushed into the bed and the other one helping you rise your hips. ellie pulled down your thong, bringing it up to her nose.

she took in the smell of your arousal, she could’ve licked your underwear if she wanted too; completely wanting to be taken-over by the smell of your wet cunt.

“take all of me, every single part of me is a part of you.” you devoted yourself to her.

there was no one else that you wanted to be completely one with; ellie felt the exact dsme way.

those words leaving your mouth felt like music to ellie’s ears.

“i fucking love you doll, s’fucking much. till the end of this world.” she begins to passionately ramble as her hands eagerly begin to grope you.

ellies hands began by giving your thighs a soft-squeeze then going up to massage your hips, from there going to fondled your hickied titties; robe slipping to the side.

“mmhpm-so wet for me already” she utters out in a pleased tone as she sees your pussy glisten by your juices as she spread your legs apart.

you bit your lip, feeling impatient. you leaned up slightly to pull her down but she didn’t let you.

“nuh uh doll, you already pleased me enough. be a patient lil’girl” ellie coos, taking one of her hands from your breasts slowly tracing its way down.

ellie’s hand found its way to your dripping pussy, her fingers slightly toying with your hole “please-please” you grind your hip up into her two fingers, she retracts them.

ellie turned to her nightstand, turning away from you momentarily. you were confused but gave her time before questioning it.

when she turned back to you, she turned back around with her blue strap-on.

your mind automatically went nebulous.

“please wha’doll ?” her smirk cause shivers down your spine as she returned to towering over you.

your hands impulsively found their way to her back “fuck me till the sun comes up” you meant it, looking her dead in the eyes as you wrapped your legs around her waist.

“your wish is my command, mama” ellie’s eyes felt like daggers pricking at your skin, you felt such delectation at being at ellie’s mercy.

your back arched into her, your breasts pushing against hers “you can take m’cock doll, y’done it before-it’s okay” she soothes you sensually, her lips going back to wander all over your neck as she pushes your legs up to your stomach.

ellie slightly pulls away, to align her strap with your soaked hole. you lifted your hips up impatiently causing ellie to hold them back down aggressively while slamming herself inside you.

“fuck ellie!” you erotically wailed out her name in such a way, it made ellie want to ruin you even more.

“who can fuck this sweet pussy?” ellie grunts out as her hips snap against your skin “huuagh-you! fuck-only you!” you moan out, pleasure being the only thing known to your senses at the moment.

you felt her strap bumping your cervix slightly as her thrusts got more vigorous “s’good-feels s’good!” your fucked-out babble only becoming amusing to the demon that was your girlfriend in this bloody moment.

“what was that, doll? couldn’t hear ya” ellie smirked out, only fucking into you more ruthlessly before moving one of her hands to rub your clit with delicacy.

“awh god! ellie-puh-ah!” you tried to plead through your tears and overwhelmed moans “shh doll, you’re taking me perfectly” ellie coos, the hand that wasn’t rubbing your clit now went to your face.

she caressed your hot tear-stained cheek, leading her thumb to your slightly agape lips “open these up f’me, pretty doll” ellie tells you, sliding her thumb into your mouth.

the sight of as you took her thumb into your mouth while she was ontop of you, driving herself into you. the way you admired her tattoo, you took the hand that was on the side of the arm she was extending.

you continued to suck softly as you traced the outline of the veins that protruded through her tattoo.

the sight of it all bringing you closer to your orgasm.

she leaned back slightly as you sucked her thumb and oogled her arm, causing the upward angle to bring you pure rapture.

you let out a choked out gutteral moan against her thumb as her hips devilishly work you to your orgasm.

ellie knew how to make you cum not once, but for days.

the way you arched your back, chest inviting her lips to explore.

the way your legs shake as she fucks you relentlessly always; no matter how.

the way she had you calling out like the lyircs to your favorite song.

the way she turned you into a completely utter pornstar.

“ellie! ellie m’close! gonn-ah!” lips removing from her thumb, your lecherous shrieks ringing through the room.

“yeah, pretty mama? you gon’ cum all over this strap?” she groans out, she swore she could cum just of all of this.

you let out quick nods as your nails dragged out slight blood , feeling small droplets fall into your nails.

“your words, use them.” ellie grits out, her hips fuckiing you well through your orgasm “yes! m’gonna cum all over your dick!” your cries were pure melodies to ellies ear.

“i gotchu pretty doll, i gotchu” as her hips drastically halt, going from fash to now deep thrusts.

“ellie! ellie!” you clung to her as you shook through your orgasm.

“there you go, atta girl” ellie praises you as your orgasm waves through you, nothing but whimpers coming from your foggy fucked out mind.

once you calmed down in her embrace, she slowly pulled out her strap that was now covered in your cum.

“lets take a break, mama?” ellie suggests which you agree too pretty quick.

ellie went to the restroom, grabbing a towelette to clean you up and get you a glass of water.

once she came back, you were laying there wirh your robe tied up. you thanked her for the water as she cleaned you up from your juices.

you had went to the restroom after she cleaned you up. you made your way back into your shared room and as you open the door; there she was.

ellie williams.

there she fucking was…on one knee in only her boxers and a sports bra.

“will you marry me?”

the case that held your sparkly engagement ring being held by the woman of your dreams after just getting ruthlessly fucked, yet treated like a queen.

only something this wonder of a woman could do to you.

“yes, fuck yes, yes.”

you ran to her as she stood up, launching yourself into her arms.

you both went to enjoy your bed of roses t’ill sunrise.

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teamatsumu · 4 months

Text

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ confessions ⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

hello everyone! so this valentine’s day, i have planned an all-haikyuu exclusive event based on a very popular valentine’s theme - confessions

here is the masterlist for the event, i hope you enjoy it!

‪‪❤︎‬ letter # 1 - iwaizumi hajime x reader

wrote confession for character A, accidentally gave it to character B instead

‪‪❤︎‬ letter # 2 - hinata shoyo x reader

you confess because you think you will never see him again, so it doesn’t matter

‪‪❤︎‬ letter # 3 - akaashi keiji x reader

you lose a bet so now you have to confess to your crush

‪‪❤︎‬ letter # 4 - kita shinsuke x reader

your friend confesses on your behalf

‪‪❤︎‬ letter # 5 - bokuto kotarou x reader

you confess to him, and he’s confused because he thought you were already dating

If you would like to be tagged, just send an ask!

(divider by @/cafekitsune)

#haikyuu #iwaizumi haijime x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #valentine’s day event #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff

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ilovepedro · 4 months

Text

soft side | joel miller x f!reader

Valentine’s Masterlist | Main masterlist | Palestine

Please take some time to go through the Palestine links. If enjoy my writing, I ask you to help Palestine in any way you can.

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: You and Joel enjoy a quiet Valentine’s Day.

Warnings: no outbreak AU, pwp, established relationship, fluff, oral (f!receiving), fingering, squirting, cum eating, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), creampie, praise kink, pet names (baby, darlin’, good girl), after care, reader has no description, no mention of hair type/body type/skin color, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: i haven’t written Joel in ages, so i’m a little nervous i can’t lie. i do have a dbf fic in the works for him, but he’s very intimidating since he’s so well-loved. i hope i did him justice 😭 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! thank you for reading! as always, not beta’d - all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika-graphics

His truck is parked in the driveway. He’s home before you, something out of the ordinary with work being so busy all the time. You park your sedan beside his pickup and gather your belongings before heading to the front door. It’s oddly quiet as you shuck off your boots and toss your keys on its respective hook, save for the record player going in the living room.

Warmth glows throughout the house, painting the walls in a sepia hue.

Sauntering into the dining room, you spot a vase of tulips sitting atop the dining table. A card sits beside it, his chicken scratch scribbled inside.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Thank you for loving me and the girls the way you do. Don’t know what I did to deserve you. I love you.

-Love, J”

Your heart flutters at Joel’s sweet message, knowing he isn’t typically one for declarations. Rustling comes from the garage door, Joel trudging in with a bottle of that sweet wine you like.

“Hey, cowboy,” you mutter, grinning ear-to-ear. His head snaps up, a goofy grin crinkling his features.

“Hey, baby. Didn’t even hear ya come in. How long you been home?”

“Just got in.”

You waltz towards him as he sets the wine down on the table. His arms wrapping around you.

It’s instinctual.

Slotting your arms around his neck, you meet him halfway into a soft kiss. Melting into him, mindlessly carding your fingers through his hair as you kiss him sweetly, slowly – something you haven’t had a chance to do very often lately. Savoring every bit of him he has to offer.

“Hmm. It’s quiet. What’d you do to our girls, Miller?” You ask against his lips, Joel chuckling into you.

“At the movies with Tommy. Slipped him somethin’ so we could have the house to ourselves tonight. Should be back ‘round 9. ‘S a school night, but just wanted some time with my valentine,” Joel mumbles, his chocolate irises meeting your gaze.

Smirking, you hum in approval.

“Smart man,” you murmur before crashing your lips against his.

“Mhmm,” Joel agrees as he grins into the kiss. Both of you chuckling at his conniving plan.

“Missed you, cowboy. I feel like we haven’t had a moment alone in a while,” you utter as he places tender kisses on the column of your throat.

“Mmm. Missed you too, baby. Feel like I haven’t seen ya in ages,” he says into your skin, the two of you mindlessly swaying to the record playing in the living room. Unable to contain your laughter, Joel snaps his head up - his signature scowl returning.

“What’s so funny, darlin’?” He asks, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Nothing. You’re just… you're so… I like when you’re soft,” you timidly murmur in between giggles. His brows scrunch further, smirk pulled into a thin line.

“Soft? The hell you talkin’ about, darlin’?” Joel asks in genuine confusion.

“It’s not a bad thing, Joel. You’re just… real soft when it comes to me and the girls. It’s sweet,” you explain. He grunts.

Typical Joel.

“Well you three are the only people I care about,” he mumbles, his kisses resuming, nibbling on your neck. He draws out a breathy chuckle from you as your resolve slowly starts to crumble.

“Come on, Joel. I gotta make dinner,” you whisper, no conviction in your voice.

“Mmmm. ‘S alright. Already ordered us somethin’. ‘Sides - rather have dessert right now,” he rasps against your lips before smashing them together again. The kiss grows sloppy, heady, full of tongue and teeth. You moan into his mouth, feeling drunk just off his touch. He cups the back of your head while squeezing your waist with his other hand, leading you out of the kitchen.

“Lemme have my dessert first, baby,” he mutters before dragging you up the stairs. Drunk giggles bubble from your lips as he leads you to your shared room. Flinging the door open, Joel tosses you on the bed, diving into your neck as he litters kisses along your throat.

He nips at the spot beneath your ear, earning him a breathy moan. Soothing his bite marks with his tongue, he fumbles with the hem of your blouse. He tosses it over your head as you fiddle with the buttons on his flannel.

His rough hands undo the clasp of your bra, a moan breaching his chest as your breasts spill out of the cups. You slide off his flannel, revealing his taut chest and soft tummy, your mouth waters at the sight of him. Rugged and soft around the edges, you frantically undo his belt. A smug laugh rumbles from his chest.

“Eager now, ain’t ya, baby?” He teases, shucking off his jeans. He visibly twitches in his boxers, a damp spot of precum already leaking through. You palm him through the fabric, Joel groaning at your warm touch. Sitting up on your knees, you snake your hands up his torso and wrap them around his neck, slamming your lips together in another heated kiss.

“Want you in my mouth,” you rasp hungrily.

“Later, baby. Need to be inside you. Gotta get you ready for me first,” he grunts as he throws you back on the bed. In one swift move, he slides your trousers down your legs and discards them on the floor. He groans at the sight beholding him. Your lacey pink thong with a visible wet patch on them. He wildly yanks it off, nearly ripping the lace.

His lips ghost over your bare sex as he settles in between your legs. He peppers kisses along your thighs, his beard scratching against your skin.

“Joel,” you pant, plead. Your desire grows with every kiss to your thighs. He hums, the vibrations sending another wave of arousal to stick to your panties. His callused hands rest atop your tummy, settling your squirming.

“Joel, please,” your voice barely above a whisper. He laces his fingers with yours before diving in. Drowning in you, he moans at the taste of you. Savoring your tang on his tongue as he licks languid stripes up your glistening folds. Your wanton moans making his cock twitch, boxers growing messier with precum.

“Always taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’. So fuckin’ sweet,” he rasps before suckling your clit between his lips. You keen above him, arching your back into the mattress as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“So fucking good, Joel. Feels so fucking good, oh my god.”

Mouth still wrapped around your precious pearl, he prods a thick finger at your entrance. Your eyes fly open, gasping at the intrusion. His thick, long fingers hardened by a long day at work always hit that spot in a way you never could. He groans as he watches you suck him in, gliding in with ease.

“Joel, oh fuck, Joel. More, please,” you beg, breathless as he brings you closer to your release. He slides in another finger, moaning into you as he watches them glisten every time he pulls them out, squelching around him with every pump. Crooking his fingers deeper, your moans grow pitchier with every stroke as he brushes your g-spot.

He releases your clit from his lips, licking hurried stripes through your folds, slurping up the juices that have pooled at his wrist.

“C'mon, baby. Can feel you squeezin’ my fuckin’ fingers. Fuck, can fuckin’ hear ya. Let go for me, darlin’. Come on my fingers, baby, let me have it,” he growls before flicking at your clit relentlessly. Your tummy clenches tightly, pressure bubbling over as you gush all over Joel’s mouth and fingers.

He groans as he skyrockets you into orbit. Floating around the sun, your vision burns hot and bright, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Joel hungrily, wildly drinks every drop before licking back up to your clit.

A puddle of your release gathers beneath you, it coats Joel’s wrist as it sticks to your thighs. Whimpering as you return to Joel, he releases your clit from his mouth and greedily licks up your slick from your thighs. Roaming up your body to meet your gaze, he brings two of his fingers to your mouth.

“Open for me, baby,” he snarls. You mindlessly obey, sucking in his slick-soaked fingers with heavy eyes. Moaning around him, savoring the taste of yourself.

Joel lets out a wrecked moan, his mouth gaping as you suck his fingers clean. Hastily removing them from your mouth, he hurriedly slips out of his boxers and kicks them off to the side. You catch glimpse of him through heavy lids, whining as he pumps himself, precum smeared along his throbbing length through gritted teeth.

You flinch when he lines himself up with your weeping cunt, clit throbbing as your breathing becomes even more ragged. Whimpers and moans reverberate off the walls as he slides home. Fluttering around him as he splits you open, tears prick your eyes. The sting heightens your pleasure. His cock kissing your cervix as you adjust to the size of him.

“Fuck, baby. Always so fuckin’ tight,” he grits, holding his orgasm at bay.

“Y-you’re so fucking big, Joel, holy shit,” you whine, gasping with every word.

His size is something you’ll never get used to.

He sloppily slots his lips against yours, the taste of you melding into the kiss. Threading your fingers through his salt and pepper curls, he groans into your mouth as you tug on them. His weight making the pressure in your tummy rise.

“Joel,” you whisper against his lips. He hums, capturing them in his again before you can speak. He smirks as you let out a hmph.

“Move. Please.”

Joel hisses as he slides out of you almost completely, before ramming back into you. Your back arches into his chest, his rough, large hands slitehering to cup the sides of your waist. Pinning you beneath him as he snaps his hips into yours. Nudging at that spongy spot with every thrust.

He’s incredibly deep, fucking an endless stream of whines and moans out of you. Gripping his broad shoulders for purchase, your nails drag down his back. You can feel him twitch inside you, his hips stuttering at the dull sting of your scratches.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ good, baby. Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had in my life. Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all of me, squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. You my good girl, baby? Huh?” Joel babbles, drunk off your pussy.

Your eyes struggle to stay open, every thrust sending you closer to the edge.

“Y-yes, Joel. Your good, fuck, your good girl,” you wail.

“‘S right. You’re mine. All fuckin’ mine, baby. So good for me. Wanna feel you soak my cock, baby. Come on my cock, baby. Need to feel you."

With no preamble, he brings his thumb to your clit.

“Joel!”

One stroke to your clit catapults you to your orgasm. Stars bursting behind your eyes, dizzy as he fucks into you harder and harder. You feel his cock twitching as he nears his own release.

“Gonna let me fill you up, baby? Gonna take all my cum like a good girl?”

“Yes, Joel! Fill me up! Please! W-wanna feel you dripping from me, please, Joel!” You scream as you ride out your high, tears streaming down your face.

“Fuck!” Joel barks, hips stuttering as he cums hard. Coating your fluttering walls with his cum, his guttural, drawn-out groan echoing in the room. The two of you ride out your highs together, babbling nothing but Joel Joel Joel as the sheets crinkle in your deathgrip.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pushing you further into the mattress. He can feel his cum seeping out of your throbbing cunt, but he can’t bring himself to pull out.

Not yet.

He catches your lips in a searing kiss, a silent check-in, bringing you back to him as you whine and writhe.

“I got ya, baby. I got ya. So good. Did so good for me,” Joel rasps, voice hoarse and mouth dry.

He slips out of you slowly, reluctantly leaving your warm, wet walls. Your cunt achy and puffy as it gleams in the setting sun that glows through the window. Both of you covered in sweat and sticky with cum.

Laundry definitely needs to get done tonight.

Before he rises from the bed, Joel revels in the sight before him. You swollen, shiny hole weeping with his cum. Diving in, he licks up your folds. A wail bursting deep within your chest as he cleans you up with his skillful tongue.

“J-Joel. Too much, baby. Too much,” you gasp, your clit stinging from the overstimulation. He pulls away, but not before he can stuff two fingers inside your pussy.

“Gotta keep you full of me. Want you to feel me drippin’ outta you tomorrow."

Moaning at the fullness, at his words, you helplessly keen as he shoves his cum back inside you.

“Good girl,” he rasps before slipping his digits out of you, he places a soft lingering kiss to your thigh. Sliding out of bed, he pads into the bathroom. The water runs as you lay sprawled out on the bed, legs like jelly and head spinning.

Returning with a warm washcloth, Joel carefully swipes between your thighs, gently cleaning up the mess you two made. You hum, the warm water soothing your aching legs and cunt.

He tosses the cloth in the laundry basket. Scooping you into his arms, you nuzzle into his chest. Basking in the warmth of his tender embrace. Smiling at the feel of his lips on your head.

“Love you, darlin’.”

Humming against his chest, you bring your eyes to meet his.

“I love you too, Joel. Best Valentine’s Day ever,” you giggle, Joel laughing along with you.

The doorbell rings, Joel sighing at the interruption.

“‘S the delivery guy. Let me go pay him, baby,” he rasps into your hairline, a bratty whine bubbling from your chest.

“I’ll be right back, darlin’, I promise,” he says as he slips from your grasp. Playfully smacking your lips, Joel rolls his eyes, smiling at your antics.

While Joel handles the delivery guy, you get up and strip the bed. Tossing the sheets into the laundry basket, you head into the hall to grab a fresh set. Making the bed with the new sheets, you sigh as you plop yourself on the mattress, snuggling under the blankets.

Joel clambers up the stairs and back into the room, pizza box in hand along with two glasses in one hand, the bottle of wine carefully resting atop of the box.

He sets it down on the dresser, pouring you each a healthy glass. He hands you a slice of pizza along with your wine, graciously thanking him with a smile on your face.

The two of you share the pizza on the bed, sidled beside each other as you debrief your days. As Joel goes for another slice, he stops in his tracks.

“Why’d you strip the bed?”

“Huh?” You ask through a mouthful of pizza.

“Why’d you strip the bed?”

“Oh. Well… it was messy. I thought I’d clean up,” you explain through your muffled mouth.

“And who said I was done with ya, darlin’?”

tag list: @nostalxgic @honeyedmiller @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @morallyinept

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller tlou #ilovepedro valentine’s day series

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tmr-simp77397 · 4 months

Text

galentine’s day - r.c. ❥

summary: while your planning a galentines get together with your friends, rafe overhears and decides otherwise..

warnings: smut!! 18+ fem!reader, sub!reader, switch!rafe, creampie, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, innocent-ish!reader, aggressive!rafe, making out, degrading, praise, fingering, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YALL TAP IT), nicknames, and i think that’s it!

a/n: hiii i’m back!! i got this idea to write this story mid class today and just decided why not i need to get my thoughts out and actually write. hope u guys like it ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

rafe was at your house on this gloomy saturday afternoon since your parents were gone for the weekend on business. you were sitting on your bed watching tiktoks, the netflix show that had been put on hours ago was since ignored, and rafe had been downstairs getting snacks for a couple minutes. as you were watching a video about the 10 year olds storming sephora, you got a call from sarah.

you pick up and speak into the phone “hey sarah! what’s up?” you say with a smile even though you know she doesn’t see you.

“heyyy y/n, you busy tonight?” sarah questioned.

“i mean, no not tonight. i’ve just been with rafe all day” you pause, “other than that i’m free tonight, why?”

sarah squeals, “me and the girls were thinking to have a little galentines party at kat’s house! what do you think? it’s gonna be around 7 so you definitely have time to get ready.”

you glance over at the clock, 5:14PM. you were going to spend the whole day with your boyfriend, but one girls night can’t hurt, right??

as you were about to respond, rafe walked into your room with some of your favorite snacks. he sat back onto the bed and rested his hand on your thigh while saying “what does sarah want, whatever she said tell her no.”

“sarah ill text you” you say into the phone as you hang up. “sarah invited me to kat’s house tonight for a galentines party”

“the fuck is a galentines” rafe chuckles

you roll your eyes “it’s a valentine’s day party for girls who are single and still want to have fun on valentine’s day”

“mmm, as of 4 months ago though you are not single— if i’m correct.” rafe said sarcastically.

you smirk and sit up “i know that. and my boyfriend is funny, and veryyyyy sexy for your information”

“i’d like to meet him one day, seems like a handsome guy” rafe cooed.

there was an intense silence for about a minute as you two both looked in each others eyes, rafes pupils dilating making his green eyes get full by the black orb.

“rafe are you okay” you say practically whispering looking up at him through your eyelashes.

rafe doesn’t say anything for a couple seconds, letting his eyes wander your body and face, landing on your plush pink lips. out of nowhere, he grabs your neck and roughly places his lips on yours practically attacking your face. you gasped from the sudden reaction allowing him to shove his tongue into your mouth. “mmmh” you moaned, getting onto rafes lap to have a better angle kissing him. you started to move your hips against his lap, not noticing what you were doing still being dumbfounded by him kissing you not too long ago.

rafe pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips together. as you were about to complain, rafe spoke up “fuck princess, i’m so hard”

you licked your lips excitedly and say, “i could help you rafey” while taking off your tank top in the process.

“no y/n” he said. “tonight, it’s gonna be all about you. get undressed.”

you look at him shocked. you had to be at sarah’s party soon!! but, you could never pass up sex with your boyfriend. and in this moment, neither could he.

“i fucking said get undressed, now” rafe said, almost shouting.

while that did startle you, you started to unclasp your bra, and take off your shorts along with your panties. after, you laid flat on the bed, your elbows propping you up.

rafe smirked, he loved when you obeyed him. he started kissing your collarbone sucking marks that will definitely show the next day, making his way down to your boobs. his hand made its way to one of your boobs, needing it with his hand, and moved to your other boob swirling his tongue around your nipple.

“mhmmm- fuck rafe, feels so good” you moaned

as rafe was swirling his tongue around your nipple, he suddenly stopped pulling off with a pop.

“rafey, why’d you stop” you whined. you didn’t get a response until you felt his hard on pressing into your thigh which made you gasp.

an amused smile played at rafes lips, “see what you do to me sweetheart” he said lowly “i’m going to fucking ruin you.”

that sentence alone almost made you cum. anytime rafe dominated you made you feel like mush under his touch. and this was one of those moments.

as rafe stayed on top of you, he took off his shirt to reveal his toned abs that were glistening with sweat beads. your eyes trailed down to his happy trail, wanting more.

“tsk tsk, not yet sweetheart” he cooed.

you whined, starting to get impatient. when suddenly, you felt rafes fingers plunging into you knuckle deep.

“mmh rafe please” you screamed

“doesn’t that feel good, baby?”

“fuck, y-yes rafe, feels so- so good”

rafe hummed in appreciation, thrusting his fingers at a faster pace and adding another one. you gasped loudly, head falling back onto the pillows as your hands flew to rafes buzzed head, scratching it lightly.

a few soft moans fell from your lips and rafe swore he was in heaven. you sounded so beautiful, even in this position. you were going to be the death of him.

“f-fuck rafe im- im close” you say as you clenched onto his fingers, the pleasure feeling almost too good.

as soon as rafe felt you clench on his fingers, he pulled out. he couldn’t help but stare at your face. hair clinging to your face from sweat, lips all puffy, you looked somewhat innocent but so dirty at the same time.

as soon as you opened your mouth to protest, rafe brought his head down to your puffy clit and started to swirl his tongue around it, “you taste so fucking good sweetheart” he said muffled.

and without warning, you came all over his tongue. being overstimulated from not being able to finish earlier including this made the knot in your stomach snap sooner than you thought.

once rafe felt you cum, he lifted his head up from your pussy and started to unzip his pants. you, however were still in a trance from your orgasm so you didn’t really hear him.

rafe threw his pants to the floor and pulled down his boxers, cock springing up hitting his lower abdomen, tip glistening with pre. he started to jerk himself off a bit before going into you.

you got snapped out of your trance when you felt something against your sensitive pussy from your previous orgasm and started to whimper and close your tired legs.

rafe saw this and immediately pushed your legs back apart, holding them in place with his strong hands.

“what a slut, cumming without my permission and now you think i’m not going to fuck some sense into you huh?”

you whined “rafe please no more.”

rafe chuckled to himself, “your gonna take it weather you like it or not baby. should have came with permission before.”

right after he said that, he shoved his fat cock inside of you making you gasp. you’d never get used to his size no matter how many times you’ve had sex before.

“fuck, princess so tight.“ he complained

you let out a near pornographic moan and arched your back while bringing your hands to rafes back and scratching lightly, “feels—fuck—feels so good”

“say it princess” rafe demanded, “say it slut, say i’m the only one who can make you feel this good”

you couldn’t form any words cause of how cock drunk you were, and rafe knew that, so he teased you.

he brought his right hand up to snake around your throat with a tight grip.

“fucking say it” he spat

you started scratching his back harder signaling to stop. he loosened his grip, thrusts still consistent, and let you speak.

“your- your the, fuck- your the only o-one that could make feel th-this good” you stuttered, hoping he would take his hand off your throat.

“now that was easy right princess” rafe smirked with a look of evil in his eyes. it scared you seeing him like this, but you liked it at the same time.

the sound of skin slapping was the only thing in the room that could be heard. other than your moans and rafes groans. you felt the knot in your belly almost breaking, signaling you were close.

“r-rafe” you managed to choke out, “i’m close”

he shook his head “when sluts like you break the rules, you only get to cum when i say so”

you whined. you couldn’t hold it in for any longer; but you had to or else you know you would get punished.

rafe felt you clenching and groaned, “fuck your so sexy”

a red tint spread across your cheeks as rafe started rubbing your clit in a figure 8 motion. it took everything in you to not let go right there. but, you held it in.

as you felt his dick twitching inside of you, you knew he was close.

“fuck ‘m not gonna last longer with you squeezing me like that baby” rafe groaned, “you can- fuck- you can cum now angel, let go. i’m right behind you.”

as soon as you heard those words you let go, you squeezed him tightly, your cum squirting out of you.

“gonna fill you up baby. gonna give you my babies” rafe said as he also let go as he came inside of you, moaning loudly.

as you were in a cloudy state, you could feel ropes of rafes cum coat your walls, making you whine.

you felt his thrusts get sloppy, his hips stuttering as his dick twitched inside of you.

he let his head dip down to the crook of your neck and started giving sloppy wet kisses.

“your mine baby. all mine. did so good for me today”

you smiled softly, eyes drooping as tiredness takes you over.

rafe glanced at the clock on your nightstand, 6:18PM.

“now baby, your gonna go to that party with my cum dripping down your legs, got it?”

hi baby’s, i feel like this was a bit rushed so let me know what you think ❦ i also haven’t written in a while, so i hope you think it’s good :)

taglist: @annaherling444 @purswaterfall my baby’s i love u

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe obx #obx smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe x y/n #outerbanks #valentines day

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aurorawritestoescape · 4 months

Text

PERFECT STRANGERS

Pairing: no outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’re celebrating Valentine’s Day at a restaurant with your boyfriend and have eyes only for one man. The other man.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, semi-public, f!oral, implied age gap, unprotected piv (wrap it up), double infidelity, pet names ‘little girl’, ‘baby’, a bit of degradation, smoking, alcohol consumption, swearing

Word count: 2,8k

A/n: Happy Valentine’s Day, lovely people! here’s some filth for you💖 hope you’ll enjoy!

Huge thank you to @milla-frenchy for the title 😘

MASTERLIST || PART 2

You noticed him as soon as he entered the restaurant. He was not alone. No one usually goes alone to a restaurant on Valentine’s Day. A waiter led him and a woman he accompanied to their table, and they joined the other couples celebrating their eternal love.

You were not alone, either. Your boyfriend of one year was sitting in front of you. He was complaining about his work like he often did, and being a supportive girlfriend, you offered him a listening ear and all the comforting words. While talking to him, you noticed that if you shifted your gaze a little to the left, you could see the man facing you at his table.

He was handsome, and at first your eyes found him again and again out of simple curiosity and because of your love for looking at beautiful things and people.

You were subtle, stealing glances at the stranger on a rare occasion. Your eyes would take in his hands, lips, and curly locks. You noticed a gold band on his finger, the fullness of his lips, the way he shifted his jaw from time to time while listening to the woman. You were pretty sure it was his wife.

The moment that made it more complicated, and impactful was when your eyes locked. The room wasn’t that big, your tables weren’t that far away, and you two were facing each other, so it was absolutely normal for your gazes to meet at some point. So they met once. Then again. And again. And a few more times. Many more times.

Talking and eating, you sometimes felt his eyes on you, intent yet warm. His gaze would slide over the woman and land on your face, your chest, your partner.

When your eyes locked, your breath would hitch, and you would look at each other for too long. At one point, you got lost in his eyes, drawn to him by a magnetic pull, and when you dropped your head and looked at the pasta on your plate, you felt like something had been said between you two. A greeting. A secret. A wish.

At one point in the evening, the woman left him for the bathroom, and your stomach churned with excitement as you anticipated seeing more of him. You could finally get a full image of his torso, so you were shamelessly ogling his broad chest and

strong shoulders under the confines of his shirt. Then you looked up at his face and saw his gaze on you. He gave you a lopsided smile and took a sip of his wine without breaking eye contact.

“Are you ok?” Your boyfriend asked, having noticed your changed expression—lips parted, eyes blown and widened.

“Ah...yeah,” you replied, quickly averting your eyes from the stranger.

But you weren’t ok. You were tingling, and your stomach was burning with something bright and overwhelming. Something you’d never felt with the man sitting at your table.

You took a deep breath, and the night went on. Stolen glances were still exchanged between the handsome stranger and you, but you tried to stop yourself from looking at him.

It got too much for you when the woman laughed loudly at something the man said, and his devastatingly beautiful smile made your heart beat faster. A surge of jealousy burned your insides, so you cursed under your breath and took your purse, looking for a pack of cigarettes. You had quit a long time ago, but when you felt overwhelmed or anxious, it was a great way to flee from a place, a conversation, or a person. Which you wanted to do at that moment. So you got up and walked to the entrance, trying not to look at him. You failed miserably, as your eyes immediately darted to his face, and you saw him watching you. He ran his hand through his hair, and his expression was pensive and serious.

***

You stepped outside and took a deep breath of night air. You felt your nerves calm down and walked to the corner of the restaurant. It was quiet, as the street was almost deserted that late at night. It was windy, and the skin on your naked legs erupted in goosebumps, so you walked behind the corner of the building and into the alley next to it to hide from the chilling blows.

You cursed when you realised you forgot your lighter in the purse and were contemplating going back, but decided to spend a few minutes there before returning.

You leaned against the wall while the image of the stranger still occupied your mind.

You were standing with an unlit cigarette between your fingers when you heard a voice.

“Hey.”

You snapped your head in that direction and saw him standing at the corner, smoking. The stranger didn’t walk into the alley, didn’t walk closer, apparently not to scare you in that dark, empty street. A myriad of emotions began swarming in your stomach, but fear was not one of them.

“Need a lighter?” He asked, glancing your way from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, thank you,” you replied, clearing your throat. His voice was deep and gruff and so hot that your heart fluttered, and you felt tingling between your legs again.

He slowly walked to you and stopped at arm’s length, not barging into your personal space. When he took a lighter out of the pocket of his blazer, you stepped up to him, raising your cigarette and placing the tip between your lips. You could have lit it yourself, but you wanted him to get closer. He leaned towards you and covered the flame from the wind with his big hand. Your eyes locked again, like many times before that night, but in that moment, it hit you like a freight train. His beautiful, dark eyes with little reflections of the flame pierced your soul and made you stop breathing for a moment. Your gaze lowered to his plush lips, which were slightly pouted, and when you looked up again, you saw him looking at your lips circled around the cigarette.

You took a first drag and stepped back just a little, wanting to stay close to him. He didn’t step away, and you two smoked together in silence until he talked,

“Is it your husband there?”

“No, boyfriend. And you're with your wife.” It wasn’t a question, you were sure of your words by then.

He hummed with a little nod and added with a glint in his eye,

“Does your boyfriend know you love staring at other men?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly collected yourself.

“Does your wife know you hang out with other women in dark alleys?” You quipped, looking up at him with defiance.

He laughed and gave you his gorgeous smile.

“Not any women. Only with the most beautiful one.” Your stomach made a flip when those words left his lips. The way he looked at you was different now. There was dominance, a desire, a need.

“You can’t just keep looking at me that way, little girl,”

He said, throwing away the bud and taking a step towards you. Your cigarette fell out of your hand as you stepped back, feeling the rush of a prey cornered after a chase. But there had been no chase. You were not a prey.

So you stood your ground, and he stepped up to you, so broad and strong, and you bit your lip, feeling the heat of his body warming you up.

“You were staring at me all night as well,” you asserted, looking up at him with your eyebrows raised.

Your heart was booming in your ears. The man smiled, before his hand grasped your hip, and he gently pushed you back.

He wasn't rough, you felt a slight pressure on your side, nudging you towards the wall behind. You complied breathing fast and not breaking eye contact.

In a moment, you felt a cold brick wall against your back, and the man stopped inches from you. The electricity between you two was almost tangible, and the darkness of the night was hiding you from the eye of a rare passerby. Only one streetlight at the corner of the restaurant let you see his handsome features.

“You’re right. I was watching you,” he murmured, bracing his hand on the wall next to your head as his other hand found your waist. “Couldn’t stop staring… pretty little thing.”

It seemed that you forgot how to breathe. Time stopped, and your mind was empty. The only thing that remained in the world was him, the man caging you against the wall in that dark alley.

He was looking down at you, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips and back up. He was waiting for you to take a leap.

And you took it easily.

You stepped up to him, your bodies flush against each other, and pressed your lips to his.

It seemed like that was all he’d been waiting for. His arms enveloped your torso before he pinned you to the wall.

The kiss was overwhelming and hot. There was nothing sweet about it. He growled into your mouth while his hands began roaming your body. It was like he knew how little time you two had and wanted to touch you everywhere, feel you everywhere.

“Please,” you mewled into his mouth, and he parted from you.

“What is it, baby? Tell me what you need..”

“I want you.”

“Fuck, you’re a dirty girl,” he said with a shaky voice, feverishly unbuckling his belt. “Gonna let some stranger fuck you in an alley?”

“Yes,” you moaned, pulling your skirt up with shaky hands.

“Little slut. Let me see you,” he mumbled crouching in front of you and helping you pull your skirt up to your waist. He quickly tugged down your lacy panties, took them off, and looked at your pussy.

He cursed under his breath and opened your folds with his thumbs.

“Did watching me all night make you so wet, naughty girl?”

He wasn’t wrong. Cold air hit your soaked pussy and you shivered. Your clit was pulsating and when he put his mouth on it and began licking and sucking you felt like you were about to come.

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he mumbled against your flesh as you placed your feet apart so his tongue had better access. You were clutching his curls while his fingers were digging into your hips and kneading your ass cheeks. He seemed insatiable, making the flat of his tongue rub your clit, then caressing it with his soft lips.

“I’m…gonna come,” you moaned as he was sucking on your sensitive bud filling the alley with the lewdest slurping noises.

After a few moments, you came, shaking against the wall, your hand gripping his shoulder. He was lapping at your juices until you felt overstimulated, and slightly pushed him away.

He stood up, his scruff glistening with your slick.

“Come here, baby,” he growled, unzipping his jeans. He pulled out his cock, which was hard and throbbing. His warm hands grabbed your thighs, and he lifted you up.

You gasped, wrapped your legs around his waist, and put your arms around his neck. You felt his cock nudge your hole, and he started sinking his tip into you. His member was big, but your pussy was ready to take him after your orgasm so he bottomed out easily and started bouncing you on his cock.

The head was hitting your cervix rhythmically, and you wanted to scream, but the need to be quiet allowed only soft whimpers to leave your lips.

Suddenly, you heard buzzing.

His phone.

To your astonishment, he took it out of his pocket, holding you up with one arm, and, after a deep breath, answered the call.

“Honey, I’m helping this guy out. His car broke down,” he said while his cock was buried deep in your pussy, “No, don’t worry, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

While he was talking to his wife, you slid down the wall a bit, and he pushed you up, making his tip hit your cervix hard. You put your palm over your mouth just before a cry escaped your lips. He winked at you with gratitude and added, “Enjoy your dessert, honey.”

He hung up and mumbled, “I’m definitely enjoying mine.”

His lips immediately crushed into yours, and his hands grasped your ass cheeks as he continued to lift you up and down, using you like a fuck doll.

After a particularly hard thrust, you couldn’t help but moan loudly, and he placed his warm hand over your mouth and continued fucking up into your dripping hole.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he whispered into your ear between panting, “so wet and warm, fuck.. “ His scruffy beard was chafing your cheek, but you didn’t care. You were enjoying yourself too much, being fucked by a complete stranger while your boyfriend was waiting for you. On fucking Valentine’s Day. Despite or because of it, your second climax was building fast in your core.

“Can you come on my cock, little girl?” as if reading your thoughts, he asked you.

“Yeah..,” you murmured, “make me come, please."

“Fuck, I like you, so polite.” His hand left your ass and slithered between your bodies. His thumb quickly found your throbbing clit and he started rubbing it. His cock massaging your soft spot, his expert finger stimulating your clit quickly pushed you over the precipice.

You cried out, and he hastily placed his palm over your mouth, quieting you.

“Shhh, baby, you don’t wanna get caught full of stranger’s cock, do ya?” he chuckled, but you heard in his voice that he was close too.

“Fuck, not gonna last with you chokin’ my dick like that.”

The man hastily pulled out and put you down on your feet. He stepped to the side, pointing the tip of his cock at the wall, and started jerking his shaft while his other hand cupped your pussy. He was spreading your slick over your wet folds and watching them glisten.

Soon he moaned and started shooting the spurts of his cum on the wall. With hazy eyes and parted lips, you were taking in the image of him milking his cock.

When the last drop slid down his tip, he took out a handkerchief and wiped it off.

“Hell, baby, you’re something,” he said with a warm smile, panting heavily.

You two started fixing your clothes, glancing at each other from time to time. After you pulled down your skirt, he picked up your panties off the ground.

“Sorry,” he mumbled with an apologetic smile, and you shrugged, stuffing them into your pocket.

“We should go back,” you said with a touch of sadness in your voice. You wished you could spend the rest of the night with him, but reality was not made out of your dreams.

“You go first, and I’ll follow. Don’t want you to have problems with your guy.”

You nodded, shifting on your feet, and added,

“Hope your wife believed the car story.”

He chuckled and came up to you before taking your face in his hands. Your breath hitched again, and you marvelled at his beautiful features for the hundredth time that night.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he murmured, and planted a soft kiss on your lips.

It was short and sweet, and when he parted from you, your eyes locked again, and you whispered back,

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

***

The both of you continued the dinner with your partners. He left before you, and on his way out, he turned his head and gave you a playful wink. You smiled into your wine glass as butterflies were swarming in your stomach. Suddenly you thought that you would probably never see him again, and tears welled up in your eyes.

***

In a cab on your way home, you remembered that your panties were still stuffed in your pocket and wanted to push them deeper when you felt something else there. You took it out and saw a card. You grinned widely, biting your lip with excitement.

There was a name on the card - Joel Miller, and a phone number underneath it.

*****

Thank you for reading!💖

Kisses and hugs for your comments and reblogs!😘🫂

PART 2

Tag list: @missannwinchester @morallyinept @bbyanarchist @harriedandharassed @nervousmumbling

If you’d like to join the tag list, let me know!❤️

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fan fiction #valentine's day #tw infidelity

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 1 year

Text

Danny didn't know what to do with all these flowers. Sure, Amity had done a 180 after they stopped listening to his parents (its just a shame what had happened to them) and they now loved thier guardian and savior.

Which brought him back to the flowers. It was the day after Valentines and he had gotten gifts from what felt like everyone in the city (except Vlad who was in ghost jail via the Observants) leading him to having a massive pile of flowers, stuffed animals and candy to figure out what to do with.

Obviously most of the stuffing were going to be decorating his lair in the GZ but the flowers would rot eventually and he didn't even own a single vase anyway. He was not going to mention the chocolate.

Then Tucker gave him an idea. He can just give them away to other heros.

Cackling he set about plans to ambush the batfam who he had met once or twice when he was exploring through dimensions (and promptly chased out of the city)

He started with Red Robin the smartest and arguably the cutest of the brood. He had picked a good time too because birdy looked five steps away from falling asleep on the rooftop while running, so when Danny through a bouquet or roses at him the soft petals clocked him right in the face.

The look he gave was one of pure confusion as he stared at the plants. Then, all too soon it clicked and the vigilantes face turned a lovely shade of red as he looked around for whoever tossed them. Luckily Danny stayed off the visible spectrum that night.

The next victim was Spoiler who he clocked in the back of the head while she was distracted by talking to a civilian. The yelp she made was glorious and almost made Danny cackle and give away his position.

Red Hood Danny had to be the hardest one. Sneaking up on him was almost impossible. He could sense RH like he could a ghost but something was definitely off. He wondered if Hood could sense him too. Is that how he always seemed to know he was around. It didn't matter in the end because Danny had a lot of free time without the ghost attacks and a near endless supply of ammo. Still. Danny was getting irritated and just decided to chuck flowers at the guy until he landed a hit. He didn't know why hood was freaking out so much over flowers or why he was shooting at the flowers or even what "Pit" he was screaming about but the moment he got a hit in Danny decided to bounce.

Robin was funny. He threw a bouquet and the little bird caught it like a sword before inspecting it with a raised eyebrow.

Orphan was nice. She caught her bouquet gracefully in her arms almost as if she was expecting it and held it to her chest before looking right at him and waving.

While he was invisible.

He bolted.

Occasionally he liked to interfere with the bats rogue battles by throwing a single rose into the frey, startling the baddie of the hour and giving the bat or bats time to collect themselves. Yeah thats right. He Tuxedo Mask'd them. Something that infuriated some of the bats and got other giggling.

He at least knew better not to do this to Poison Ivy. For her he portaled in something special. The look on her face when one of those battery powered toddler jeeps came racing down the street with a full rose bush in a glass bubble and into the fight was something he'd cherish forever. Especially when she realized she couldn't control the thing thanks to the glass.

This leads to the last bird.

Nightwing was probably one of the best victims hes had. He took it like a champ and even played along, giving a little speech about being honored to receive such a gift, prompting Danny to throw individual flowers at the heros feet. Nightwing continued talking and Phantom kept giving him flowers, distracted by what the hero was saying and slowly drifting closer until-

The kick to the side of the head didn't really hurt, when you get used to being thrown through buildings not much could really hurt you anymore but it was enough to stun him and force him to drop his invisibility. Another kick and a few shocks from a pair of acrizma sticks for struggling and he was on his belly at Nightwings feet. He felt something fasten around his wrist and his core felt restricted but he didn't transform back into Fenton.

Crap. Power dampening cuffs.

He was so screwed.

Danny was later upset to discover there was a whole other bat he didn't know about or even get to target once due to him being on the daylight shift.

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1800titz · 4 months

Text

HI. HELLO. Here is my Valentine’s Day contribution. POTTERYINSTRUCTOR!HARRY!! POTTERY MAN! WOOO. Basically almost 7K of clay sexualization and sexually charged fluff (ish). Enjoy! :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: ridiculous sexualization of clay (I think I’ve managed to fetishize clay in this one??? OOPS), overly suggestive usage of pottery terms, a red-hot, hands-on tutorial for wheel throwing, and embarassingly long descriptions of Harry’s fingers coated in wet clay.

WC: 6.6K

slip: small bits of dry clay mixed with water to create a thick, creamy consistency

Clay is innately erotic.

Wheel throwing is, arguably, the most pornographic art form, its only competing opponent being, maybe, literal body-painting. And that latter one still falls as a close second. Close, but second.

Y/N decides that when she wanders into a little ceramics shop tucked away in a busy plaza downtown. There’s no method to her exploration, but the broad glass windows are adorned with dripping, colorful graffiti and its innards call to her. GLAZED, reads the large sign over the awning in blocky, white lettering, stippled with un-glowing light bulbs that she’s sure light alive in the night.

It’s a cute shop.

Upon entrance, the young woman discovers tables, as if set up for arts and crafts, crackling, clay covered wheels with shorter stools, and long, tall rows of shelving brimmed with colorless sculptures lining the walls. Despite its packed interior, the studio seems empty of people and quiet besides the soft notes of RÜFÜS DU SOL leaking from the overhead speakers. She roams beside the line of wheels over to a shelf by the door, admiring the myriad of statues there, some obviously crafted with expertise and elegant artistry, and others lopsided efforts that probably deserve a pitied gold star for effort.

Her eyes are caught on an unpainted little ashtray that’s got a crooked sort of bee in the center when her gaze breaks away to the sound of footsteps. Maybe the shop isn’t as abandoned as she’d previously believed — a man appears from behind a row of white shelving stacked with more unfinished pottery.

He’s a pretty man, that much she can decide from the downturned slope of his nose and his distracted lash line, focused on twisting the navy rag in his left hand over the tip of his right index finger. A dark baseball cap shrouds his hair, but little brunette tufts sneak out in curled bunches around his ears. That’s where Y/N finds a fun, little red-tinted pearl dangling from one lobe. He’s tatted in patchwork art — a mermaid with its tits out peeks at her from his forearm, soaked over and shining. She assumes he must have just been rinsing clay from that forearm, from his hands, no longer visible over his skin. However, streaks of dried gray stain over his white tee in crackling lines, like an old lamination on a well-loved t-shirt that’s been cycled through the washer one too many times. When he pulls the rag away, she discovers a shade of bright red that’s been painted over his nails.

Almost as if he can sense her presence without looking, his sneakers pause on the tile and he steals a peer up. Yes, he’s quite a pretty man, even when his features shape something caught off guard.

“Hello.”

His voice is rich — this smooth, bass-deep sort of sound driving a foreign lilt, and Y/N thinks that if it weren’t for his lengthy fingers and his cherry polished nails, if it weren’t for his handsomely sculpted face, if it weren’t for his seemingly innate effortless demeanor and style, that voice alone could make her fold.

“Hello,” she returns, aware that a nervous note plucks at her cadence, unlike his own casual greeting. I promise I’m not shoplifting clay pots in silence, she nearly tells him.

Thank fuck for the ability to physically bite your tongue.

“What can I help you with?” the man asks, sauntering forward a bit. It’s probably sort of a polite manner to say what the fuck are you doing here, and the longer the young woman stands in the middle of the empty shop the more out of place she feels, almost like this a private, little haven and she shouldn’t be in here right now.

The song shifts into its choral bass drop of electric keys. That fills the void of the silence as she swallows and fixes a little smile onto her face, fingers tightening over the strap of her tote.

“Oh, I’m just looking.”

The man purses his mouth and walks over to the counter, where the register is littered with paperwork and an eclectic collection of faux plants. He sets the rag down beside a floppy one with its green tendrils dangling over the edge.

“See anything you like?” his hand pinches over his nose, like he’s scratching an itch, before he sniffs and pivots to apparently decrease their proximity, “We’ve got loads — you can make something yourself, or,” another step, and Y/N’s eye bounce from his shorts to his tattooed knees to the hems of his white socks. “…If you know sculpting isn’t your craft, we’ve got ready-to-paint-one's on that shelf there.”

Her gaze follows the direction of his finger, where pasty ceramic bunnies, and angels, and cars line the shelving in multiples.

“I think—“ the young woman’s tongue peeks out to swipe over her mouth, words growing drier the longer she captures his stare. She focuses back on a lopsided rendition of strawberry, its leaves cradling over as a disconnected lid and its stem a crooked handle. “I like these. They’ve got so much character.”

She blinks back over to him and watches a soft smile shape over the cushiony pink of his mouth.

It only takes a moment — one where her sight draws back to the strawberry jar for a smidge of a second, before he’s so close that she can smell his cologne, spiced and clean. She ogles his arm, his hand, the way he reaches out between them to cull the piece, mildly appalled by the way he palms the sculpture and dwarfs it in his easy grasp. It’s such a casual maneuver, made almost as if he’s not fondling over something it’d take anyone else two hands to hold. Y/N imagines the dimpled form of clay coated over to match the color of his nails.

“They do, don’t they? I like this one, too. S’a little …ugly, but, s’in, like, a…” the man’s features twist into something silly and pinched, and the young woman rolls her lips into her mouth to avoid exposing her amusement at the brutal candor. His words catch in his throat and bubble as a short laugh, “I dunno. It’s art.”

He sets it back onto the shelf with a light clink, and turns to face her, posturing against a post in the shelving where the tiers have a break. An exhale becomes paired with his nonchalant lean, arms crossing over his pecs, and Y/N tries intensely not to stare like a hawk at the muscle there.

“I’m afraid people are coming back for these, though. This row came out of the kiln…” forest green skids to the assortment and then bounds up to the ceiling like he’s in thought, before he casts his gaze back onto her, “…yesterday. And there’s a month-and-a-half window for someone to come back and glaze before we toss or sell them to be painted.”

He’s chewing gum. Y/N realizes it when she admires the soft stubble coating his jaw, his cheeks — that’s when she notices the work of his jawline over the minty piece. He tips his head. “Did you want to try sculpting something?”

The edges of her lips break bashfully. “I don’t know if I’d be any good at it.”

One corner of the man’s mouth curls up lopsidedly, and the beginnings of a dimple nudge into place. He blinks and chews a little slower, “Have you ever worked with clay before?”

Her delayed, little no is met with the lopsided beam growing even. He nudges with his chin, deliciously bulging arms still tucked over his chest, his playfully raised eyebrows like a wordless notion of have more faith in yourself, “Then you may just be the next Magdalene Odundo. We’ll make a pro sculptor out of you, yet.”

Magdalene Odundo. Somehow, the name isn’t familiar, but simultaneously, somehow, it feels like a compliment.

Y/N inhales as his digits shift over his tri’s. “Okay.”

“Okay,” plush pink shapes a handsome smile, bordering bright white teeth in straight lines. The man tips his head towards the curved berry vase, and then looks back at her, “Did you want to do something like this? All these over here were made on the wheel.”

Y/N muzzles telling him that she’s no inkling of an idea how someone can morph a lump of clay into a vase, nevermind on a big, spinning platform that moves faster than her eyes can keep up with. The man seems to pick up on the hesitation in her silence.

“S’easy, I promise. I’ll show you how to throw.”

Show her. Okay. At least she’s not going to head into vase-sculpting or wheel-throwing or …whatever he’d called it blindly, fumbling over a block of clay on a twirling tray like a slapstick skit personified. At least it means she’s going to stay in his presence. After a moment of thought, though, (and the way she notes that his eyes make unwavering, relaxed contact with her face the entirety of the silent pause), Y/N decides she’s not sure whether that last bit is actually a good thing, considering she’s probably milliseconds away from, like, bracing a hand onto a the shelf to match his level of coolness, or something. And then subsequently sending ceramic pots spilling and shattering over the tile.

She blinks. Her shoulders rise on her nervous inhale, and he makes one of those playful faces, like he’s waiting for her to agree. The young woman’s eyes wander to the line of chairs pressed to its counterparts of wheels.

“I don’t wanna, like, trouble you—“

“You’re not. S’my job,” he tells her, crimson fingertips drumming. She catches sight of his fabric-clad pectorals flexing when he leans forward a little to tack on, “…And to be honest, it’d give me something to do besides fucking around with clay, which is what I’ve been doing for the last hour.”

Her mouth purses and then settles. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again, and then winds around through a row of little tables that resemble the set up of an art classroom, like the kind she’d have in school. She’s ashamed that her gaze wanders down the back of his arm to ogle the rest of his ink.

“You can have a seat at one of those wheels,” he tosses over his shoulder as he heads, she assumes, to wind back around the same shelf he’d surfaced from behind, “Just give me a mo’, and I’ll be right back with some clay.”

It takes Y/N a moment — mostly because she admires the view of his stature from behind as he migrates to a back hallway, irises roaming down the projection of muscles in his back showcased through his tee. They skim down his legs, down the backs of his knees, rest on toned calves. He’s gone far too quickly for her viewing pleasure. The young woman takes another glance at the uneven strawberry-esque vase, and then she pivots to step around the crowded assortment of wheels to crouch into one of those little roll-y stools, feet crossing and uncrossing in the cramped space.

He’s a sexy man, Y/N decides. That’s the word she’d been looking for all along, although pretty would match the descriptors of his long lashes and his pouty pink mouth. He’s sexy, though, in his baseball cap and his little six-inch-inseam shorts (which show off the sculpt of his tanned thighs and the ink over his kneecaps). He’s sexy when he comes out from the back over to her wheel, a gunmetal gray ball of clay cradled in his palm like it’s not the size of two of her own. He’s sexy in the green eye contact he makes when he settles into a stool similar to her own, right across, when his thighs splay because he doesn’t have enough room to sit otherwise, when he rests his elbows over his knees and stretches one arm out to pass off the clay. That’s when their digits brush, because it’s sort of unavoidable. He manages to make eye contact through that, too. Sexy.

“Okay. Clay,” the chilled ball the man hands off weighs her hand down, and Y/N’s gaze flickers up to meet his own when he instructs, “Toss it onto the wheel. Aim for the center.”

The young woman pauses like she’s calculating her aim, gearing up without visibly gearing up, and a little smile tugs at the instructor’s mouth as he waits. The clay lands with a thud onto the plate.

“Great,” he tells her, monitoring the centering, and then jade bounces back up to her face as he coaxes, “Smack for good luck.”

Y/N curbs the corners of her mouth out of mirth, hesitating for a moment before her palm lands over the smooth, gray lump in a halfhearted pat. She blinks up, hoping for assurance. The handsome man’s mouth purses like he’s restraining a grin.

“Harder,” he encourages after a second, the corners of his muted raspberry mouth seeping up a smidge, more openly, “S’not gonna cry. You can go a little harder than that.”

The young woman rolls her lips into her mouth, raises her hand, and follows his request, molding it flatter under the solid thud of her palm. Evidently, it’s a better attempt, because she earns a, “Very good,” in response from him.

She casts her gaze up to find him dipping his hands into the pot of murky water beside the wheel before a fist knocks lightly at the pedal-resembling lever on the opposite side, sending the wheel into a speeding twirl. And to add to her list of shame, the liquid that coats his fingers — that’s.

Yeah.

Y/N swallows and watches those wet hands cup over the clay, partly mesmerized by the way he coaxes the priorly deformed lump into a symmetrical cylinder, stroking up from the base up and back down, and partly mesmerized by the way the cherry polish becomes daubed with slicked clay.

“I’m just gonna get it nice and easy for you, and then you can get to the fun bits,” the man tells her as if he isn’t currently awakening some deep, deviously sexual desires in her by fondling clay. Jade flickers up. “M’Harry, by the way.”

“Y/N,” the young woman tells him in response, unsure whether to focus on his searing eye contact or the gentle press of his hands over … oddly erotic artistry in motion.

Harry unwittingly makes the decision for her by breaking the eye contact and glancing down at his work.

“Y/N,” he says, as if testing the taste of her name on his tongue.

Y/N takes a breath, smoothing her hands down her thighs.

“Y/N,” his strawberry mouth parts a tad for a soft breath in, honey smooth cadence glazed in concentration as he presses a flat palm over the top of the clay, keeping his other hand cupped over the length.

She watches the cylinder mold under his grip into something shorter, and then back up. She watches the way his arms flex, anchored to his body as he presses with the heels of his palms to sculpt.

“This is called coning. Makes the clay centered so your grip stays nice and even when it spins. Otherwise, s’gonna wobble, and you’ll feel it when you’re trying to work with it.”

Sure enough, after a few moments, when the man takes his clay-sullied palms away, what’d priorly been a lopsided hunk twirling over the platform stands symmetrically, shining post his wet grip. When he balls his hand into a fist and punches over the lever a handful of times, the plate slows to a stop. He blows out a breath and the music shifts to the next track in the background.

“Take your bracelet off for me.”

The comment is made totally innocuously. Its purpose is solely to preserve the condition of her jewelry — she knows that when his eyes go to meet hers again and he mentions, “Otherwise, it could get covered with clay, or break. Wouldn’t wanna ruin such a pretty piece.”

But it’s the way he says it, right? Two little words, so easy off his tongue. So nonchalant, so purely intended with no ulterior motive. For me. For me, for me, for me.

It’s shameful — she’s ashamed. She’s no better than a man, Y/N decides, as she peers to the silver bangle with the sliver of warmth slithering through her chest and snaking to her tummy. She’s no better than a man, objectifying this poor, effortlessly sexy ceramics instructor and his casual commentary on a Wednesday. She swallows.

“Right. Thanks— thank you,” the young woman tells him, her tone garbled with nervous enthusiasm as the fingers of her opposite hand wriggle under the clasp to pop the piece off.

She’s still feeling dubious about the morality of her thoughts once she’s slipped the bracelet into her tote by her feet and sat back up.

“Alright,” Harry starts again, elbows braced to his sturdy thighs, “We’re gonna go over what this little thing over here does, because it’s good to know. It sets your speed. We’ve got options—“

Y/N watches the way his arm stretches, she eyes the tail of the mermaid, the lines of scales etched into his skin. His eyes meet her own again.

“…Fast,” Harry knocks over the lever again with the butt of a vertical fist, a couple more nudges rocketing the wheel into a motion that dissolves priorly visible remnants of clay rings into fast-moving swirls with no decipherable borders.

Another few nudges has the wheel skidding to a full-stop, and then stuttering back up into a spin when he taps over the pad once more.

“…Slow,” Harry fixes his gaze back onto her face and watches the curious concentration there. The man sits back up a tad, elbows bracing over his splayed thighs and fingers crooked and lax, coated with slippery wetness and clay. “Find what feels good for you. S’different for everyone.”

Despite the way the directions are made so innocently, so obviously stated as a tutorial that’s not intended to be taken as something suggestive, Y/N finds a heat teeming over her cheekbones.

“But, I recommend—“ her teeth lodge into the inside of her cheek with subtlety as the instructor hunches a little again, just a tad, to rap over the lever in a pair. The wheel speeds. “—Sticking to something around this.”

The pace of the wheel settles into an easy spin — something that’s still too quick for her eyes to keep up with, but apparently not the fastest setting, judging by the higher speeds he’d displayed moments prior.

“Alright. Here’s where you come in with your undiscovered ceramic talents,” the instructor tells her, the edges of his mouth so obviously restrained, like he’s amused with his own playful banter. His eyes glinting softly under the buttery light cast by the overhanging lanterns,”M’gonna show you how to drill, but you’ll need to get your hands wet first.”

Harry sits back, elbows still braced to his thighs, hands now coated with slippery clay as he waits for the young woman to douse her own into the bucket. The liquid greets her palms with a welcome chill, and when she lightly cups over the cylinder, it slips under her hands with ease. The man clears his throat, and their digits graze again when he touches over her fingers to guide her grasp. Y/N tries not to focus on the way his hands make her own look as if they belong to a child.

“You’re gonna take your thumbs—” Harry coaxes, all concentrated seriousness now, and the pad of his own brushes against the knuckle of her left, “—and press over the top, here. Right in the middle, just like that.”

He takes his hands away and the clay rolls under her fingertips, a divot forming from the pressure of her thumbs.

“Good. Now what you’ve done is you’ve indicated where you’re going to make the opening. And to do that—“ his hands return, unintentionally persuading her own to fall away and sort of hover stagnantly mid-air, in sullied awe, as he dips the tip of his index into the cleft they’d created together.

As if hungry for the finger, the clay parts to swallow the pad of the digit. It broadens its starving mouth, and Harry steadies the spread with his thumb, his pointer delving against the inside of the deepening wall. His opposite hand cups over the body as he molds the opening wider.

Anyways, what Y/N manages to learn from the impressive showcase, before Harry steals a glance to make sure she’s been observing (which she has, very focused, actually), is that clay-working is a dirty, dirty, lustrous art form. Especially under his fingertips. This is all very educational stuff. Perhaps the most impressive step of his tutorial, thus far, is the way that, in mere moments, he cups and strokes and caresses over the clay, drawing the opening tighter. It shrinks until it disappears, and when he smooths his hands over the rounded edges a few more times, the vessel that’s left is an entirely clean slate. Almost as if she hadn’t just spent the last few seconds ogling a weirdly pornographic display of a clay cavern opening in response to the touch of his long finger. This was a horrible mistake, Y/N thinks pitifully — she’s getting aroused by clay working. If there was ever a blaring red indicator that she needed to get laid, this is it.

“I want you to try now,” Harry directs, totally nonchalant. This is just a casual Wednesday for him, Y/N realizes. He casually fingers clay with his sexy, long fingers, and thinks nothing of it. Maybe she’s just a horribly wound-up pervert.

Still sort of stunned, she reaches out and cups over the cylinder, clumsily positioning her thumbs in a replication of the manner he’d shown her, aiming for the center and driving a divot into the top.

“Mm. That’s good. Keep your elbows closer to your body,” he prompts, eyes flickering from her posture to her hands. “Like this.”

Following his body language, Y/N mimics, ducking a tad and tucking her arms to her torso. After a few moments, she lifts her thumbs to find a centered indent, one that’s similar to the one they’d created together.

“Lovely. Now,” the chair makes a little rolling sound over the tile as Harry shifts forward, clay-slicked hands (warm, despite their cool coating) cradling over her own to position, “You’re gonna cup here, and then take this finger and push here. Yep. Jus’ like that.”

The instructor takes his grip away and encourages, “If you need more water, get your hands wet. You can tell you need it if there’s friction — you want it a little wet.”

She wants it a little wet. Y/N decides, as she dunks her hands into the bucket and returns to the clay, she in fact does not want anything wet right now. This is the last place she wants something wet. Her thoughts are disturbed by the way he grasps her at her hands again and repositions — twisted by the slippery feel of his own wet fingers. The clay over his palms has begun to dry now, morphing lighter and crackling, but the tips of his digits are still soaked and darker in shade. She’s awed when the cylinder gives under her touch, the same way it had for him to encompass her finger. It’s like magic, sort of. Very slippery, wet, weirdly erotically undertone-d magic.

“There you go,” Harry tells her, baritone soft, “You’re a pro.” Then, after a moment, “You can go a little harder. Don’t be shy. Open it up.”

She’s not blushing. She’s not blushing, because that would be silly. She presses harder, and the opening widens until it gapes.

“How long have you worked here?” the young woman asks, naturally trying to change the subject from wet and hard things. Hopefully in an organic enough manner that doesn’t imply how affected she is by said wet and hard things.

“I bought this place a few years ago,” Harry responds after a second, tone concentrating as he reaffixes the firmness of her grasp (she tries not to verbally apologize, glancing up), “…Both units. It was a smoke shop before, I think.”

“Oh!” her hands stutter again in surprise, “Are you the owner?”

He fixes them again, brows pinched, and when he glances up, his brow bone is smooth and there’s a soft smile playing over his mouth. “Indeed I am.”

“It’s …beautiful in here,” Y/N tells him, gaze walloping from shelf to shelf for a moment, lantern lined ceilings to vine-coated crown molding, trusting that his hands will keep her own grounded to the piece.

“Thanks. It’s a little crowded, but if you manage to get lost among the …phallic statues and the clay bongs,” he cocks his head, blatantly bridling a simper as he shrugs. At the response of her snort, jade flickers up and the plush of his mouth curls more obviously, “…You’ll find your way out of the maze soon enough.”

As the walls of the clay grow thinner, the instructor takes his grip away, swiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Alright. What are we going for here? A mug? A vase? A bong masquerading as a vase?”

Y/N takes the lack of his touch as an indication to lighten her own. She purses her lips thoughtfully. “A vase.”

“A vase,” the instructor parrots, voice low, and then he hunches back over and cups the clay. The young woman returns her hands to meet his own. “I can work with that. We’re gonna build it up. You’re gonna squeeze and lift. Right—“

If his fingers keep brushing hers for the duration of the next …half hour? Hour? (How long does throwing take?), Y/N decides she’ll simply combust. His hands cup lightly over her own, two digits pressed to hers, and hers pinned to the inner wall of the clay in sin.

“—Here. That’s it. You can be a little aggressive. We’ve gotta get it tall.”

Y/N swallows.

“You said you own both units?” she ponders aloud, “Is there …more?”

“My place,” Harry tells her nonchalantly, as if it’s the most casual, normal, every day thing to live over a ceramics studio, “S’just over on the next floor.”

“That’s—“ she realizes her grasp has lightened again, the integrity of the structure mostly only crawling up under the pressure of his own (steady, firm) grip over hers, “…so cool. To have, like, a whole studio right under you.”

“Mm. I think right now…” Harry cranes his neck to peer up at the ceiling, “We’re under my kitchen.”

A little breath of mirth tumbles from her when he grins and tacks on, “I think this is way cooler, though.”

This is The Turning Point.

And if it was a scene title in a play, Y/N thinks it would be capitalized to denote the importance. It’s important, because somewhere along the trail of her perversions, as Harry had guided her hands into the innards of the clay — fittingly describing it as the body — when he’d pressed his hands against her own to widen its base, when he’d shown her the sponge, things had clicked. It had clicked because she realized she wasn’t fucking crazy. Because Harry then said this thing — this one little thing that would have launched her into a frenzied, internal mess of dubious morality on the basis of her perversions—

But then it clicked.

“Careful with the amount of water you’re using now, yeah?” he’d told her, maneuvering her grip over the sponge as they’d smoothed over the lip together, “S’all about balance. …If you go too hard, you’ll make a wet mess.”

Y/N had glanced up. That’s when she’d noticed the way the instructor gnawed into his cheek, almost immediately, almost as if he was amused by some sort of devious inside joke. And then his blocky front teeth had dug lightly into the plush of his pink bottom lip. It was nearly unnoticeable — but she had noticed. Clay was innately erotic, and he was doing it on purpose. It was one, or the other, or both.

For a little while from there, they work in blatantly charged silence. It’s a very short while, all things considered, and she’s willing to clam up altogether and daydream about his digits for the duration of the lesson, but the tone of his next words nearly gives her whiplash.

“So what are you doing on this lovely Valentine’s day?” Harry breaks the silence, once again, his tone so even and nonchalant that Y/N can’t begin to fathom where his composure comes from.

The young woman clears her throat, “Oh. Y’know. Trying my hand at ceramics. The yuzh.”

Jade doesn’t immediately jolt up when he ponders aloud, “Dinner plans?”

“Not any on the calendar …that I’m aware of.”

His touch doesn’t lighten, but he does glance up, mouth all (apparently) disbelieving mirth, “You’re telling me you’re not being wined and dined tonight?”

Feigning offense, the young woman sets her mouth into a line and nudges with her chin in a nod, joking, “Thank you for the reminder.”

Harry laughs softly, one of those little breaths expelled through his nostrils, and he looks back down to the vase-in-progress, gentle grin undeniable. Y/N matches his amusement, faux indignation crackling.

“You’re too pretty not to have a Valentine,” the instructor tells her, then, decibel low, almost like it was meant to be under his breath but also entirely not, and all Y/N can do is sit there with instant heat seeping to her face. Because that’s flirting. That’s definitely flirting. Her sexy ceramics instructor is helping her craft a vase out of clay on a wheel with his sexy hands, and he’s openly flirting.

Y/N stuffs down how initially stunned she is to chew into her bottom lip and volley, “I bet you say that to every girl that comes in here.”

Harry shrugs. It’s still almost an enraging level of cucumber-cool and composed.

“Just the pretty ones.” He tacks on, after a moment, “And only on Valentine’s day. Don’t think that line would fit well on a random Wednesday.”

Y/N snorts. She’s still basking in the pleasant warmth of the flattery when the man peers up and tells her, “I do accept tips, by the way, so. Feel free to leave a tip for the friendly service.”

“I will—“ she snorts, restraining her open amusement at the way his brows crinkle in concentration as he helps her grip, “—definitely do that.”

“Sick,” his tongue peeks out to swipe over his lips, disappearing back into his mouth as quick as the pink had showcased. Jade flits up, the corners of his mouth curled up in a little pause of silence, almost he wants to make it crystal clear he does not actually want a tip for hitting on her.

Anyways, this is all a flustered mess. All of it. Y/N, the pot she’s sure will grow off-center and wobble under her shaky grip, all of it.

“What about you?” the young woman takes a deep breath, hoping some sort of breathing exercise will help slow the buzzy flutter of her heartbeat, “Any wining and dining? For Valentine’s day?”

“Not on the calendar,” Harry responds, sliding her own words back to her, his gaze still honed on the work ahead of them, now impressively morphed from a lumpy, shapeless ball into the beginnings of a vase, “As for how I’m spending my Valentine’s day, I did just show this one pretty girl how to shape and smooth. And now, …m’gonna show her how to shape some more.”

Y/N bats her lashes, and then she observes the work of his clay caked fingers, the way they curl and press over the vase in different points of the body, some motions widening the rim and some drawing it more narrow. He bids their tutorial a pause shortly after, explaining, “I’m gonna give you some creative freedom now. Figure out what shape you like.”

Despite the slight disappointment budding at the close of their conversation, for now, the daunting task of unsupervised throwing is what probably surfaces on her face, more. The instructor catches it when he rolls back in the stool and stands, ogling her for a moment, mirthy mouth caving up in a way that suggests she must look like a deer in headlights.

“It’s intimidating, but I believe in you. I’ll just be in the back for a sec, give me a shout if you need me.”

Y/N shifts her legs, pressing her thighs together when he adds, “Play around with it.”

All in all, they manage to end the wheel session with (Y/N thinks, impressively) only a couple of hiccups, both being opportunities presented with unsupervised sculpting. When she’d played around with it (his words) a little too much and had coaxed a priorly even shape into something lopsided and petrifying, it’d swung around on the wheel, each turn quickening its slow but sure collapse. She’d called out for the instructor with a frantic note to his name. Of course, both times, Harry had come out from the back and patiently squeezed over the clay, hands and forearms jolting and flexing deliciously as he’d encouraged it back into something centered (yet another opportunity to stare at slick clay glazing over his fingers all over again), reassuring her that it was normal to struggle, especially with her first time.

Y/N wonders if he’s constantly full of innuendos, or whether a ceramics studio is just innately an opportunity for double entendres.

She tries not to make it too obvious when she stands on wobbling legs, when she brushes past him and catches soft notes of his cologne, clean and musky. When he directs her to the bathroom where she rinses clay from her hands into one of those artsy, utility sinks. When she sits at one of the tables, waiting for him to bring the vase over to her, torched and ready for additions, when he gives her another colorless lump. She tries not to make it obvious when she ogles more of his arms, the peek of his nipples through the white, clay-stained fabric of his tee shamelessly. She fears it’s utterly obvious how affected he’s made her, though, when she blinks up at his face, when he shows her what the different little tools in the cup do for sculpting. Y/N doesn’t even look away from him at the introduction of the first tool. She thinks that’s the one that must cross-hatch, driving little lines into the clay.

“This is called slip,” Harry explains, dipping the tips of his index and middle fingers into the cup near the brushes with no hesitation. The consistency over his fingers, when he pulls them out, is like a wetter, creamier, sloppier variation of the same clay she’d worked with.

Christ.

“You put it over the lines you’ve carved to make more clay stick,” the instructor expands.

Y/N swallows when he smears the consistency coating his fingers onto the lines he’d drawn, his gaze bouncing from his touch to her face.

“Like, if you wanted to add a handle to a mug, you’d use this method. Or, alternatively,” the young woman focuses on the way the pads of the digits rub over the lines. They fade away. “It’s like an eraser. Careful with erasing, though. …Wet mess.”

The latter is tacked on as a reminder, and it wonderfully reminds her of the heat coiling in the pit of her tummy. Wonderfully. She swallows again.

“You can probably use that brush to apply the slip, though, if you don’t want to get your hands dirty again.”

Flowers. She sculpts flowers with a searing heat between her thighs, because his added little comment of, “I don’t mind,” as he glances to the slip still glazing his fingers, implying that he doesn’t mind to get his hands dirty, does that to her. Y/N sculpts flowers and they settle into a comfortable sort of silence. It’s one where the only sounds are the soft music playing over the speakers and the occasional noise of pages turning from behind the counter as he leans over it and works through some kind of paperwork. She draws lines into the vase, and brushes on the slip, and presses creased flowers to decorate the bulbous body, concentration etching her features.

She doesn’t notice when she goes over the hours of operation, and Harry doesn’t disturb her, doesn’t tell her that the shop’s been closed for nearly half an hour by the time she peers up and declares, “I’m done.”

“You’re done,” the man repeats and sets the paperwork down, making his way over to the table where she’d set up, “Let’s have a look.”

Y/N sits back admiring her artistry. All things considered, it’s sort of an ugly vase. Despite this, a sense of accomplishment buds in her chest as she stares at her creation.

“I like it,” Harry tells her, nodding like he’s proud of a promising protégé, “It’s quite sweet.”

“Thank you. What now?”

“Now—“ the instructor props one hand onto the countertop and the other against his hip, “You wash your hands, you take a picture, and you come back in three weeks to sand it and glaze it.”

Simple. It’s a simple set of instructions. Y/N brushes crackling, dried clay off of her fingertips against the cloth laid over the table, instinctively reaching for her purse.

She blinks up at him expectantly, “How much?”

Dimples wink awake with his soft simper, and he shifts his stance before he asserts, “Don’t worry about it.”

The young woman’s features shape into something crinkled, something bemused and unwilling of a discount. She shakes her head and glances back down to the tote, “No, I have to pay you. What about your tip?”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, pecs flexing with the motion. Flexing, flexing, flexing, when will his muscles stop rippling? He sighs, cushiony mouth still smiling, “I think I’ll live. My tip was that I’ve helped you discover a hidden talent—“

Y/N snorts, eyeing the sloppy attachments to the shapely base, fingers still tucked over her wallet.

“—It’d defeat the satisfaction and all the pride I’ve got now,” the man declares, shrugging.

The unconvinced look she gives him coaxes him into a good-natured roll of his eyes, and Harry tuts before he compromises, raising his eyebrows, “But if you must tip me, you can tip me when you come back in three weeks, yeah?”

Begrudged, the young woman takes her hand from the edges of her wallet. “Fine. Okay.”

“Okay. Three weeks,” the man reminds her, a little smile playing over the plush of his mouth.

The world of ceramics is oddly pornographic, Y/N decides. But maybe clay isn’t innately erotic. Maybe it’s the way the man’s fingertips mold its shape, the way his digits look soaked in slip, the way his hands cradle over it as a wheel spins under his ducked stature. Maybe it’s the way his jade irises flit to her face when he makes an educational comment that’s obviously suggestive, Maybe it doesn’t have to do with clay, at all. Maybe it’s Harry.

Maybe it’s the way he tells her, “If I were you, I wouldn’t miss it. Glazing is my favorite part.”

#harry styles #harry styles smut #(ish)? there’s a lot of innuendos in this one #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles one shots #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles valentine’s day fic #valentine’s day fic

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oconswrld · 4 months

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♡ Be my valentine? ~ Alex Albon ~ feb. 12

summary: Alex is too nervous while asking Y/n out

The streets were busy as Alex tried to find his way to the flower shop. Cars zoomed past as Mac Miller played in his headphones. The soft white sweater Y/n brought him hugged his torso. The rain fell from the grey clouds.

His thoughts stopped when his eyes spotted the shop. It's size is little, the paint on the outside is a baby blue and sage green. Flowers and vines hanging from the ceiling, big windows had stickers adorning the edges.

A bell chimed as he stepped in, faint music playing. The heat of the lamps made him sweat. Soft lights blinked in every corner. The woman in the cashier's place is lent back talking on the phone

Alex's eyes catch on baby's breaths and pink roses. The combo made him smile.

"Be my valentine, Y/n?" His voice cracked as the woman in front of him stared and smiled. The beautiful flowers shone in his hands. The soft velvet of the bow holding the flowers together brushed his hands.

His eyes closed in anticipation. He could feel himself burning up as Y/n stayed silent. Her silk pink dress burned into his eyes, the rich color of vanilla in her bows made him smile.

He felt soft hands touch his cheeks, Y/n giggled at the red blush covering his face and neck.

"Of course, Alex why wouldn't i?" She whispered, the excitement in her voice blurring everything else. The paddock is no longer loud around them. The cars are no longer going. It's just them.

Taglist.: @littlesatanicassholebitch ; @keii134 ; @i-wish-this-was-me ; @entr4p3 ; @trouble-sistar

#Spotify #alex albon x reader #alex albon #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula one #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 x reader #valentines day fanfiction #valentines day

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amywritesthings · 4 months

Text

chocolate-covered silver. / a levi ackerman valentine's ficlet.

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) word count: 1.8k summary: Happy Valentine's Day readers. Why not celebrate with some Levi Ackerman smut? note: set in the universe of silver underground

tags: 18+ MINORS DNI! pre-aot, levi's pov, explicit language, secret relationship, gifts, eating desserts, sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), touch-starved idiots credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

He could kill Hange for this.

A nice gesture, they said — as if he doesn’t already wait on James hand and foot whenever the other Scouts aren’t looking.

She’ll love it, they promised — but not without adding a probably after the sourpuss scowl started forming on his face.

He’s been her close friend for over a decade.

He’s been in her bed for a fraction of that.

So why does walking to her quarters with a tiny bouquet of hand-picked flowers and imported chocolate from Wall Sina feel like such a death march?

“I’m only trying to help you out,” Hange quipped last week, interrupting his perfectly-happy afternoon tea. “Is it not a day people celebrate in the Underground City?”

“We don’t celebrate stupid shit in the Underground,” Levi corrects, fingertips locked around the mouth of his cup. “And besides, it’s a married couple’s holiday.”

“Not always,” Hange argues, finger lifting in a contrarian manner. “People who date celebrate.”

“That’s not us.”

He’s not technically wrong.

You’re not dating, but he doesn’t know what the hell this is.

Hange’s smile only widens at that. “Friends celebrate, too.”

“Then where’s my flowers, shithead?” Levi retorts.

That earns a bark of a laugh from the Section Commander. “If you want me to go pick you some flowers to put in your stallion’s hair, Levi, make no mistake — I will run out there right now.”

“That’s a present for my horse, not for me.”

Hange waggles their brows, leaning over the table and ruining his peace. “Gives you ample opportunity to pick some flowers for our hardworking Lieutenant, too.”

He told them to go away.

Now, six days later, he’s here.

He’s showing up like a dumbass at her doorstep trying not to run the other way before you know.

Are you going to think he’s an idiot for partaking in holidays that mean nothing to them?

The only gift he’d ever given you was that damned necklace you never take off. It was the only thing he could afford back then, down there, while they fought for their lives.

Although they may be still in the fight for their lives here, too, he can afford much, much more for you now.

He will buy you a thousand silver necklaces if you want them.

Clearing his throat, the Captain takes a moment to collect his resolve before tapping a knuckle against the wooden door frame.

You shuffle behind it. You must have been going over presentation plans Erwin sent over.

He debates on putting the flowers behind his back or—

“Levi?”

Shit.

Too late.

He stares at you when you open the door, blinking twice. You mirror the movements, blinking between the box and the bunch of flowers in either hand.

Mistake.

Mistake, mistake, mistake—

“Are those…?” you start, trying to hide your amusement.

Levi scowls and holds out the bouquet. “Yeah, it’s stupid.”

“I was gonna say ‘handpicked’,” you reply with a snort, taking the flowers gently from his hand. Levi can feel his heart beating a mile a minute as he waits with a forced stoicism. “What’s the occasion?”

He stops breathing altogether when you lean down to smell the aroma of the bouquet. The way your face melts from stress to enjoy the moment, the scent, has him weak in the knees.

For someone that’s been labeled humanity’s strongest, you sure have a way of making his knees buckle from nothing.

“It’s… Valentine’s Day up here,” he carefully states, hating every syllable of it.

“Valentine’s Day?” you repeat, holding the flowers close to your chest. You step back, allowing him access to your quarters. Levi doesn’t hesitate to enter.

“Some holiday where people celebrate—”

“—lovers?” you finish for him, and the captain feels like he’s trudged in quicksand. “I know. Hange mentioned it to me the other week.”

Fucking Hange.

“Funny that they did,” Levi grumbles, before turning on a heel. You close your door as he extends his arm with his second gift. “You’re supposed to spend the day with someone special to you. Someone — well, it can be a friend —”

“Oh, we’re friends?” you tease him as you take the box of chocolates.

You’re going to kill him.

“James.”

“What? It’s nice to reaffirm — oh, shit.”

He stops in his tracks, painfully aware that you’ve gasped. His eyes slide to the now-opened box full of exquisite chocolate, throat now tight with uncertainty.

Maybe you hate it.

He really shouldn’t have listened to Hange.

“This is real chocolate,” you whisper, and that uncertainty melts into something so very warm.

“As opposed to fake chocolate?” he asks to keep his wits about him. To see you scowl.

“You know what I mean, Ackerman,” you snip, and he fights every muscle in his face to keep a smile at bay. “Where the hell did you get this stuff?”

“Don’t worry about it. Here.”

He steps confidently across the bedroom floor boards to pluck a piece of chocolate out of the box, holding it up towards your lips.

“Open.”

He knows that shift in your gaze when your eyes meet.

Yeah, Valentine’s Day is known for stuff like that, too.

(He can show you.)

Obediently you part your lips, widening your mouth so he can fit the chocolate right between your teeth. It catches, and you use your tongue to pull it into your mouth.

The pleasure is instantaneous. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the real-time image burning the back of his mind, and he can’t hold back anymore.

“Is it good?” he asks, placing his hands on your hips.

“Better than good.” You hold out a piece for him. “Open.”

He hesitates when the little ball comes to his lips, but eventually he opens his mouth. You’re not wrong — it’s delicious. They don’t make anything like this underground.

It’s a luxury, though he had intended only for you to enjoy them.

Of course you’d include him.

“See what I’m talking about?” you ask with an excitement that’s damn adorable.

“It’s fine,” Levi answers, knowing the indignance that’s bound to flutter over your face. He huffs a breathless laugh before swallowing the chocolate down. “Come here.”

Lifting one hand to your chin, he pulls you in with nonexistent resistance. Your lips brush against his, at first slow then sensual.

He wants to tell you.

(Your lips taste like chocolate, but you taste better.)

But he’d rather show you.

He glides forward, using the hand on your hip to steer.

You easily comply with his steps forward, guiding you back to your bed. His plan must be in the back of your mind as he kisses you like it’s his last, but he can feel it — the way your lips curve in that knowing smile.

“What are you doing?” you murmur, voice velvety with want. It drives him insane.

“Celebrating you,” Levi mumbles in return, pushing your body backwards.

You easily fall to the bed and he drops with you, knee to the mattress. Levi crawls down, down, to the edge of the mattress with his hands preoccupied with the zipper of your casual trousers.

You don’t ask what he’s doing — all you do is giggle when he impatiently tugs the fabric down.

“As a lover or a friend?” you tease once your legs are freed.

Levi doesn’t answer.

Not verbally, anyway.

He wraps an arm around your hips, keeping you in place as he swats your legs wider. Your breath hitches from surprise — good, you’re too mouthy right now and he intends to remind you.

Friend, lover, it doesn’t matter.

It’s all synonymous to him.

You’re everything.

His past, his present —

And if he can bury his face into your pussy for the rest of his days, then it’s one hell of a future he can get behind.

The squeak of surprise rips from your lungs faster than you can stop the noise, and Levi is wholly satisfied by the sound. His tongue drags along your slit, coating his mouth with the taste of you mixed with the chocolate still lingering on his taste buds, and he groans.

This.

This is the only thing he needs for this dumb fucking holiday.

“Le—”

You can’t even finish his two-syllable name. You squirm, curse, arch, as he laps once, twice, before paying special attention to your clit.

Yeah, you won’t think straight now.

He knows you.

When his eyes flicker up from his work, he sees the way you struggle to watch him with that flushed face; how your chest heaves in that cotton shirt; how you want to encourage him, beg him, but your mind’s blank whenever his tongue swirls that precious clit of yours.

With his eyes, he says everything he needs to:

This is what I want. This is my gift from you.

Then he sucks lightly on your clit, rhythmic and calculated, and you have to slam your hand over your mouth to avoid screaming.

Good.

Fight to keep this a secret.

Because if it was his choice, he often thinks about ruining this — the image of a captain and a lieutenant, platonic and brave, like you’re not riding him in the middle of the night after a hard day of exploration and failures.

Like he’s not finger fucking you in the hallways as a reward after dealing with the higher ups in meetings upon meetings upon meetings.

Like you’re still two teenagers sneaking around, an underground flipped upside-down.

He hums and the vibrations make your legs shake. He has to keep from grinning, too focused on getting you to the edge by his mouth and his mouth alone.

You grow quiet when you’re almost there.

It’s been dead silent for several seconds.

He works overtime, arms locked around your hips to keep you in his orbit, as he licks and sucks and flicks his tongue side to side when—

That devastating sob.

The way your body arches like a woman possessed.

Thighs slam into his ears, making him feel dizzy, but he doesn’t stop.

Not until you whimper and tug and push at his hair to go away, and even then—

One last lick, for doing such a good job.

“You’re a menace,” you finally breathe, letting go of your mouth as your palm rests on your sweat-beaded forehead instead.

Levi lazily kisses down your inner thighs as you come back to planet Earth, proud of just how fast it took this time to get you there. He’s getting better at this, every single day.

Soon enough you won’t last a minute.

He’s determined for it.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m not sorry about it,” he murmurs, lips shiny and red from his efforts.

You laugh, and his heart swells.

“I think I like this holiday.”

Yeah.

Levi thinks he can get behind this holiday, too.

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ronearoundblindly · 4 months

Text

A Casual Kiss

Bucky Barnes x reader, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024

It's just adorable fluff, really. No warnings. Divider by @cafekitsune WC 547

A lot has happened to Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes over his long life. He used to be a ladies’ man and a traditional sort of soldier. He used to have all his natural limbs. He used to take maybe a touch too much pride in his appearance. A lot has also changed.

Wars change people. Injuries change people. People simply change over time.

And Bucky Barnes has been around a long, long time.

You knew all this from the beginning, of course, because his whole tragic history had already been slashed across newspapers and television by the time you started work in the same building.

He started out cold, then he became reserved, and then he was cautious. You didn’t even know he knew your name until the day he—very formally and awkwardly—asked you out, and the relationship developed…predictably.

That’s the best word for it. Predictable.

There were a few dates before he hugged you goodnight. The next time, he kissed your cheek. The next, you got a chaste peck on the lips. So on and so forth.

Measured increments of intimacy.

It was predictable and still wonderful.

Bucky isn’t good with ‘easy-breezy’ anything, you see. He’s intense and considerate. He plans ahead and for all contingencies, and so you’re taken aback by this random passing in of your department leaving the conference room and Buck’s team coming in.

There’s plenty of people around. Normally, that means a kind smile, perhaps being asked to step aside for a moment so he can say hello and check on your day, maybe check on your plans for dinner, but today? Today is different.

He’s smiling alright, smiling wider and brighter than you’ve ever seen him on the job. His shoulders are relaxed and loose. He’s strutting right for you, and suddenly, like a choreographed dance move, he twists, kissed your forehead, and twists again, still walking but backwards now.

Bucky winks at you as his metal hand finishes a soft graze down your arm.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Love you, doll,” he whispers though at least half the room can probably hear.

It’s not as if no one knows at work. You’ve dated for months, and for that whole stretch, Bucky’s been a perfect gentleman, just very…not casual. This is new.

So why not make it even stranger?

Your boyfriend snaps his flesh fingers like he just remembered something, nearly skipping the couple of feet to your side.

“Hey, so, I know we were doing movie night, but Sam’s taking some folks out to the corner bar. His treat.”

You can’t help but snort.

“Oh? And let me guess. You—who is unable to get drunk—would like to make him pay for the multiple bottles of top-shelf liquor you can consume.”

Bucky waggles an eyebrow, and you’re stunned.

“Know me so well,” he coos, leaning in to plant one more solid smooch on your lips.

Your lipstick stains his mouth until Bucky’s tongue wipes it away.

“I’ll pick you up at your office.”

You’ve hardly controlled the flutter in your gut but now have a grin fighting to break free. All you can do is nod, heading for the exit, thinking:

People always change over time…and sometimes, change is for the better.

A/N: Yeah, so, absolutely no one requested this and I don't care because HE DESERVES THE KISSES.

James Mace and a kiss without motive ⬅️ ➡️ Jake Jensen and a kiss to distract

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #valentine's day fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #valentine's day prompts

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zegrasdrysdale · 4 months

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[ photograph ] j. drysdale

paring : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) decides to fly out to Philly for Valentine’s Day after watching Jamie say in an interview that he’ll probably be spending the day alone

warning(s) : just some tooth rotting fluff with no angst for once, a heavy makeout

author’s note : this is just a (not so) lil fluff filled thing bc i wanted to write something for belated valentine’s day. sorry or you’re welcome (idk)

༺═──────────────═༻

“Yeah, uh, I don’t actually have any plans tomorrow,” he explains to a reporter through the screen on her phone. “Everyone I know here does have plans and everyone else I know is across the country so I’ll most likely spend the day putting together furniture in my new apartment.”

That was the moment she decided that she was getting on the first flight she possibly could to Philly so Jamie didn’t spend Valentine’s Day alone. No one should have to spend the day alone. She doesn’t have any plans and she’s off from work for about two weeks because they’re doing renovations so a little trip to Philadelphia doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Last year he spent the day with Trevor on the couch and watched movies in their shared apartment. This year, he is in Philly and Trevor actually has a girlfriend. Not very ideal for Jamie.

She isn’t Jamie’s girlfriend, but she is one of his best friends and could never let him be alone on Valentine’s Day. Especially not after hearing what his actual plans are for tomorrow. She’s going to at least help him put furniture together in his apartment.

A flight out of LAX is scheduled for 10 that night. It’s six so she has about two hours to pack for a week long trip to Philly. She even buys a ticket for Saturday’s game at MetLife since she wants to see Jamie play a game while she’s in Philly.

By eight, she’s out the door with a suitcase that’s packed full of clothes and non-liquid toiletries. The jersey Jamie sent her about a week after the trade is neatly folded with the rest of her clothes. She orders an Uber to drive her to the airport.

While in the Uber, she debates texting Jamie and telling him that she’ll be at his new apartment early tomorrow morning since she’ll be landing a little before six in the morning. It’ll probably take about 45 minutes after she lands before she’s on Jamie’s doorstep.

Maybe a surprise wouldn’t be the worst thing so she puts her phone away until she has to pull out her plane ticket.

Getting on the plane takes an hour between getting past TSA and buying snacks for the nearly five hour flight. She boards the plane twenty minutes before it takes off so she has time to get comfortable.

She’s asleep before the plane even leaves the ground.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

All the snacks she bought before the flight are going to be the snacks she eats while she’s in Philly because she slept for the entire flight. It didn’t feel like she slept for 5 hours but she did.

By six, she’s at baggage claim and grabbing her suitcase. She orders an Uber to Voorhees while she waits for her things. The car is waiting for her when she get outside.

It’s a lot colder out than she thought it was going to be. All she has on is a Ducks hoodie that Jamie gave to her the year before and a pair of leggings with Uggs on her feet. Her feet are warm. The rest of her is not. She shakes as she puts her things in the trunk of the car.

She gives the driver Jamie’s new address and she’s off to surprise her best friend.

The closer she gets to Jamie’s, the more nervous she gets. What if he found someone after moving to the Philly area? What if the whole putting furniture together comment was a lie so he didn’t announce to the entire world he was in a relationship? What if he doesn’t want her there in general?

Maybe a spontaneous trip across the country without at least letting Jamie know she was coming wasn’t the best idea she’s ever had.

A call comes through from Trevor. Confused, she answers the phone. “Good morning?”

“Are you in Philly?” he asks.

“Maybe,” she slowly replies as she watches the Philly skyline pass. “Why? It’s like three in the morning.”

“Not for you apparently,” he retorts. “I looked to see where you were because Mason said you weren’t replying to his texts so I wanted to make sure you were okay and I see that you flew across the country.”

She smiles and shakes her head. The way Trevor would find out she’s in Philly is by checking her location. He and Jamie are the only ones that have her location because she’s closest with them.

“Just wanted to surprise Jamie,” she tells Trevor. “That’s all. Tell Mason I’ll call him later because I’m about ten minutes away from Jamie’s apartment.”

“You gonna tell him you love him?” Trevor questions. She opens her mouth to object but he keeps talking. “It’s so freaking obvious so don’t even lie to me.”

A nervous laugh passes her lips. “We’ll see,” she replies. “I’ll talk to you later, Z.”

“Tell me how he’s really doing,” he tells her. “I worry about him sometimes.”

“Will do,” she says as the driver pulls up to Jamie’s place. “Talk soon.”

The line goes dead and she looks out the window at the apartment building. Jamie’s somewhere in there asleep and she’s about two minutes away from calling him to come let her into the building.

She gets her things out of the trunk and thanks the driver before he drives off to pick someone else up. She sighs and pulls up Jamie’s contact.

When she presses the ‘call’ button, it rings about four times before Jamie answers. The entire time, her hands are shaking and she isn’t sure if it’s because of the cold or if she’s nervous to see Jamie for the first time since the trade.

“It’s like four in the morning,” he croaks when he picks up. “Are you okay?”

She smiles at the sound of his morning voice. “Actually it’s almost seven in the morning and I’m currently freezing my ass off outside your apartment building so if you could come let me in, that would be great,” she says.

It sounds like Jamie falls out of bed when she says that she’s outside of the building. If he broke anything then she’s going to have to explain to Torts why Jamie will be out for six weeks.

He isn’t holding any body parts when he swings the door open and blankly stares at her from the top of the steps of the building. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to decide if he’s still dreaming or if he’s awake. She waves and a barefoot Jamie runs down the stairs to hug her.

A laugh passes her lips and she wraps her arms around his torso. “You’re actually here,” he says against her ear. “I thought you were lying to me.”

“Nope,” she replies. “I’m here. I didn’t have anything else to do so I thought I’d come surprise you. Help you put together some furniture for Valentine’s Day.”

Jamie pulls back from the hug just enough to look at her. “You saw that interview?” he asks.

With a nod and a smile, she replies, “It sounded like a very boring way to spend Valentine’s Day so I thought I’d come keep you company. Maybe watch you play at the outdoor game this weekend. I have another week off from work and spending it in the Philly area with my best friend didn’t sound like the worst idea.”

“You are actually insane for buying a plane ticket without knowing if I’d be here or not,” he tells her. “I could’ve left for Toronto before you got here since we play them tomorrow.”

“Yeah I know how your travel schedule works,” she retorts. “That’s how I knew you’d be here.”

He shakes his head and grabs her suitcase. “You have some of the best timing because I took a maintenance day today so I have a day off from practice, but I leave tomorrow morning for Toronto,” he says to her as they walk into the building together.

“Listen, I’m spending a week in the area,” she replies. “I get to watch you play at the outdoor game on Saturday when I wasn’t planning on being on the east coast at all. If you’re gone for a day or two then it’s fine.”

The smile that forms on Jamie’s face makes her heart do somersaults in her stomach.

She can tell how excited he is that she decided to visit him. She knows how much he has been missing Anaheim so she brought Anaheim to him for a week.

When Jamie opens the door to the apartment, she is very surprised by how decorated it is and how much of the stuff he had in his Anaheim apartment has made its way to this one. It still needs some work done, but that is why she’s here. She’s here to help him finish putting it all together.

“I need to build some shelves,” Jamie tells her. “And put together the guest bedroom. The frame still needs to be built for the guest bed too. This is what my plans were for the day.”

She turns her head to look at him as he closes the door behind them. “So it wasn’t come ruse so you didn’t have to admit to the world that you had a secret girlfriend?” she questions.

If she should expect Jamie to have a girl over then she might as well get the girlfriend question out of the way early on in her visit.

“Uh, no,” he replies. “No secret girlfriend. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had any time to find a girlfriend. Yorky has tried but he’s not the best wingman.”

She can’t help but laugh. Jamie smiles and rolls her suitcase to the unfinished bedroom.

She decides to make some coffee for the two of them so they can get started on the day’s plans. They have to put together the guest room and build some shelves. It can’t be very hard to do either of those things. Right?

Wrong.

It turns out that Jamie can’t follow simple instructions to save his life. She has had to refrain from throwing whatever is in her hand at him so many times because he can’t read a piece of paper.

“Jamie, what am I supposed to do with this screw?” she asks as she holds up an extra screw. “Do I have to put it in your head so you can use your brain or something? You missing one in there? Do I need to get Trevor on the first flight out of LAX to come help you figure out how to read the instructions?”

Jamie looks up from his spot on the floor and throws the instructions at her. “Here, you try to read this and tell me if it makes any sense,” he retorts. “It’s all confusing. My parents helped me build shelves when they came to visit a few weeks ago. I didn’t have to do this. Maybe it’s just an extra.”

She grabs the pamphlet and reads the directions. The screw was supposed to be put in when putting the shelves in place. A shelf is missing a screw.

“You dumbass,” she says. “It’s not an extra screw. It was supposed to be put in on the bottom shelf to make sure it is secure and even. You now have an unsecure shelf in your guest room.”

Jamie flattens out on his back on the carpeted floor with a groan. “This is why I’m a hockey player and don’t work in home improvement,” he says as he rubs his eyes. She laughs and tries to keep her eyes on his face instead of on the sliver of skin that peeks out between what is a new Flyers t-shirt and pajama pants. “This is so dumb. I am not about to take that whole thing apart to put one screw in.”

She walks over and slaps the pamphlet on his stomach. He gasps and sits up with the paper in his hands. “Then get it together, Drysdale,” she tells him. “We have a bed frame to build.”

“Fuck the bed frame,” he sighs as she grabs the box in the corner and drags it into the center of the room. “You don’t need a bed to sleep in tonight.”

With a light laugh, she teases, “If we don’t get it set up then I’m gonna be sleeping in your bed until we get it put together.”

Jamie mutters something that sounds like “would be okay with me” but she pretends she doesn’t hear it. She can’t hear it or else she will just say “fuck it” and sleep in Jamie’s bed the entire time she’s here instead of putting the bed together.

The mattress is sitting up against the wall next to where the box with the bed frame was. He has everything he needs to put this bed together and he hasn’t done it yet. Not even over the All Star break when he had a few days off before going to Mexico with the Flyers.

Putting the bed together takes less time and a lot less arguing back and forth. Within an hour, the mattress is on top of the bed frame. Five-foot-eleven 185 pound Jamie flops on the mattress to make sure it’s secure and won’t fall apart if someone were to jump on it.

They do not need to have another shelf problem with the bed that she will most likely be sleeping on while she’s in the area. If it is like the shelf and it’s not safe to sleep on then the couch is in the living room for a reason.

The two of them stand in the doorway and look at their work when they decide the bed is secure. “We make an amazing team,” she comments. “Aside from the shelf.”

Jamie groans and walks down the hallway to his own room. “Shelves are stupid anyway,” he replies. “Who is actually going to use them in this room aside from me just putting a handful of books and pictures on them?” She laughs and goes to unpack her stuff now that it’s safe to do so without stepping on wood, metal or a screw on the floor.

The Flyers jersey that he sent her gets hung up in the closet along with her shirts, hoodies, and nicer pants. She’ll pull bras, panties, and socks out of the suitcase as needed. The beanie she brought to wear on Saturday is put on the bedside table.

Then she pulls out the gift that she brought for Jamie. It isn’t much but she’s hoping that it means as much to him as it does to her. The pictures she brought were taken at such important moments in Jamie’s career and she hopes that he doesn’t mind having a few pictures of his best friend around the apartment.

She walks down to Jamie’s bedroom and knocks gently on the door. There are footsteps behind it before the door swings open. “I, um, had these printed and framed in case I ever came to visit you,” she tells him as she holds out the three picture frames. “Thought you might need some décor.”

Jamie looks down at the pictures and shifts through them.

One of them was taken on Jamie’s Draft Day. He has on a Ducks jersey and she has on his Ducks hat. He looks so happy. He has an arm around her shoulders while he holds up six fingers and is smiling at the camera. She has a smile on his face and is looking up at him with a proud look on her face. Messy ponytail and all.

The second one was taken the day Jamie made his NHL debut and scored his first goal. It’s a selfie she took of her, Jamie, and Trevor at dinner that same night. They’re both holding their pucks because they went right from the arena to a restaurant to eat.

The third one was taken during the 2021 World Juniors tournament where Canada placed second. She’s putting the silver medal back around his neck after he had given it to her. “Silver just means you lost” is what he had said to her a moment before this was captured. She had told him that she was a winner to him and put the medal back around his neck. There is heavy eye contact between the two of them in their matching jerseys.

It was as the third picture was being taken she realized that she loved Jamie. The first two pictures, she knew she had feelings for him, but the third was when she realized that she wanted to be there for him as more than just a friend.

“I had no idea you had any of these,” he says after he’s done looking through them. Jamie looks up at her. “All at different points of my career.”

“Been with you since day one,” she replies with a smile on her face. “You didn’t think that I wouldn’t be here with you while you succeed in a whole new city, did you?”

Jamie laughs and shakes his head. “Absolutely not,” he tells her. “You always make sure you’re a presence in my life.” He pauses and looks right at her. “It’s one of the things I love most about having you in my life.”

She could almost cry when he says that.

There have been so many times over the years where she thought she was annoying or that he wanted her out of his life. She followed him to California when he started playing with the Gulls then the Ducks. He asked her to come with him, but she thought for months it was out of pity.

He has erased years of insecurity with one comment.

“Thanks for keeping me in your life,” she replies after a brief moment of silence.

“You’re like Trevor,” he teases. “You’re always around. It would be hard for me to get rid of you.”

She smiles up at him. “Except he would never fly across the country to see you,” she retorts. “Especially without at least telling you he was coming to see you.”

Jamie laughs. “No, he wouldn’t.”

They look at each other for a second before he walks past her. He has the picture frames in his hand as he walks into the living room. She follows him even though she is confused with what he’s doing.

He puts the picture of himself, Trevor, and (Y/N) on the coffee table under the lamp next to the couch. It’s the most public place in the entire place so it makes sense that that’s the picture that is put in the living room.

The picture of the two of them on Draft Day goes on a little table that leads to the hallway with both bedrooms and bathrooms. The table is under a little mirror that’s been hung up. A little less public but it also joins the other pictures that were taken that day. It looks like it belongs.

Jamie glances at her and walks back into his bedroom. She follows right behind him and stands in the doorway of his room. Her eyes are on the picture of the two of them at the 2021 World Juniors as it’s placed on Jamie’s bedside table.

“This one means the most to me so it deserves a little more privacy than the others,” Jamie tells her without a look in her direction. “You were there for me and picked me up when I was down. I didn’t want anyone else there but you. You were the one that convinced me silver was okay. The team worked hard to get to that moment. The medal was very well deserved because we did everything we could to make it to that game. I did everything I could to get the team to that game. We just came up a little bit short.”

She pouts and walks further into the room. He finally looks over at her. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” she softly says to him. “I didn’t know that I was the person that convinced you it was okay to wear silver around your neck.”

“I needed silver because my gold medal was you,” Jamie shakily admits. His voice is soft. “You’re my gold medal.”

His words have her speechless. Her jaw drops in surprise. She has no idea why he’s saying this to her now.

He reaches out to her and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She takes a step forward and feels her heart race in her chest as she looks up at him. Her body shakes as she realizes that their relationship is changing.

A line that she never expected to cross is about to be crossed. She can see it in Jamie’s eyes as they examine her face, landing on her lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nods because she doesn’t trust herself to speak. She is afraid that she’s going to admit how long she’s been in love with him if she says a single words.

So she nods, and Jamie leans down to capture her lips in a soft, hesitant kiss. He’s testing the waters to see if she’ll push him away.

She’ll never push him away.

Not when she finally has him like this. Not when she finally knows what it feels like to kiss Jamie Drysdale.

When she feels him begin to pull away, she wraps her arms around his neck and leans more into him to deepen the kiss instead of Jamie breaking it. Her fingers find a home in his hair.

She is scared he will regret it if the kiss breaks, and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want to see that look. It might break her if he looks at her like that if the kiss breaks.

Jamie cups her cheek and brushes his thumbs over her cheekbone. She melts against him with a sigh.

“(Y/N),” he mumbles after a second. “I need to breathe.”

That’s when she lets him pull away. The sight of his red, swollen lips and unruly hair is almost too much for her. There’s a hint of a smile on his face and something overcomes her.

“I love you,” she tells him. “I’ve loved you since that was taken.” She points in the direction of the picture on his bedside table. “It’s always been you, Jamie. That’s why I flew across the country on Valentine’s Day. I wanted to be with you today because I miss you and I love you.”

Jamie smiles and brushes his thumb over her own lips that are as red and swollen as his are. “I love you too,” he says. “I think I’ve been in love with you since I saw you at my first NHL game in my jersey. I’m very happy you came to the east coast to watch me play in the Stadium Series game this weekend. I was going to probably fly you out anyway.”

She laughs and shakes her head before burying her face in his chest. They’ve been in love with each other for years and are only now saying something about it after Jamie was traded to Philly and she’s stuck in Anaheim for right now.

“Only took me bringing you pictures to finally kiss me,” she teases.

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up and come here.”

Their lips meet in a heated kiss. Everything they’ve been feeling is coming out in the kiss. Jamie tugs her until she is sitting on his lap while he’s sitting on the mattress. She drapes her arms over his shoulders.

It’s that moment when she realizes they put together a whole bed for no reason because there is now no way she is getting in that bed now.

She pushes him down until Jamie is lying flat on his back and their chests are flush against each other. Her hair creates a curtain around their faces despite his fingers curling in her locks.

“Wait, hold on,” Jamie says. She pulls back from the kiss. “Have something to ask you before we get distracted.”

“Hm?”

“Will you come to family skate on Friday before the game at MetLife?” he asks. “As my girlfriend?”

The biggest smile forms on her lips. “You’re going to have to give me skating lessons because despite watching you play hockey for years, I have no idea how to skate,” she tells him.

“I will give you skating lessons,” Jamie laughs. “You’ll come though?”

She nods and kisses him. “I’ll come.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

yourusername

liked by jamie.drysdale, philadelphiaflyers, and 193,872 others

yourusername life recently w my 🤍

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fan1 JAMIE HAS A GIRLFRIEND ????

masonmctavish23 ig i forgive you for not answering my texts last week

yourusername we can hang out when i get back into cali on wednesday

masonmctavish23 good. i’m mad that jamie stole you from us

fan2 oh my god. this is so cute

fan3 you were at metlife ??? i think i walked past you at one point

yourusername i had on the drysdale jersey

trevorzegras oh this is all i’m gonna hear about when she gets back

leocarlssoon it’s about time. i was praying this would happen bc the way jamie talked about you was insane

jamie.drysdale let me live !!

philadelphiaflyers Thanks for coming out

jamie.drysdale skating w my girlfriend for the first time was the best feeling 🩵

yourusername being your girlfriend is the best feeling

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