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proxima-writes · 3 months

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along for the ride

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count:

summary: when joel finds out tommy put out a craigslist ad to get him a date for valentine’s day, he doesn’t expect it to go as well as it does.

author’s note: i finally finished something! was it anything from my extensive wip list? no! don’t think about it too hard! anyways, if you enjoy this fic, please consider giving it a reblog, a comment, or dropping into my ask box 💕

warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors dni), no use of y/n, pre-outbreak!joel miller, no mentions of sarah, little shit!tommy miller, blind date, internet safety whomst, vaginal fingering, oral sex, woman on top, p in v, dirty talk, pet names. let me know if i’ve missed any!

“I have a surprise for you,” Tommy says at dinner. Joel pauses, fork scraping against his plate.

“That can’t be good,” he sighs. “What now?”

“Why do you assume it’s somethin’ bad?”

“Last time you said you had a surprise for me, I had chickens in my backyard.”

Tommy laughs. “It’s nothin’ like that this time.”

“Well, then, spit it out,” Joel demands.

Tommy reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper that he opens on the table, smoothing out the creases before sliding it over to Joel.

“Reservation confirmation?” Joel reads. He recognizes the name of the restaurant, the kind of place where the waiters dress in all black and the menu doesn’t have prices listed beside the items.

“Yep. I got you your first Valentine’s Day date,” Tommy replies proudly. Joel glares at him.

“What do you mean?”

seeking valentine

36M looking to treat a lady to a date to remember. pic attached. email [email protected] with a pic and bio for consideration.

[img01.jpg]

You’re half a bottle of wine deep when you stumble across the Craigslist ad. When you click on the picture, your interest is further piqued by the handsome man that appears on the screen. He’s standing in front of a black pick up truck dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that stretches across his tan muscles. His brown hair is cut short, just enough length for you to notice that it’s beginning to curl across his forehead and by his neck. His beard frames a bright smile that crinkles the corners of his dark eyes.

Whoever he is, he’s hot. He’d be the perfect way to get over being dumped two weeks ago by your boyfriend of two years.

Your logic was lost somewhere between your second and third glasses of wine, which is why you click on the e-mail address in the ad and start typing. The reply is normal, at first, facts about yourself like your name and age and occupation, but you quickly end up derailing the message with an explanation about why this handsome guy should pick you, making sure to include that you’ve already got a reservation at a popular restaurant for the occasion. The picture you add is a recent photo from a cousin’s wedding that your aunt had e-mailed to you.

Before you can think better of it, you click send. You take one last look at the man’s photo before shutting your laptop and stumbling off to bed to dream of brown eyes and tan skin.

Joel taps his fingers against the white tablecloth, eyes fixed on the door of the restaurant. This is stupid, he thinks. Why did he agree to this? Why did he let Tommy convince him this was a good idea? He should have just told him no and been done with it but somehow he’s here, sitting at a table for two in a fancy restaurant and feeling like a sore thumb in the only suit he owns.

He’s lost enough in his thoughts that he doesn’t see you when you first come in, doesn’t realize you’re here until the hostess is walking up with you close behind in a beautiful dress and he suddenly remembers exactly why he agreed to Tommy’s idiot scheme.

“Joel?” You ask. He stands, nearly knocking the table in his haste to greet you. You lean in for a brief hug and he catches the warm vanilla scent of you before you pull away and smile at him.

He rounds the table to pull your chair out for you and makes sure you’re settled before returning to his seat. A waiter swoops by to offer the wine menu and explain the pre fixe menu for the evening while he pours two complimentary glasses of champagne into the crystal glasses beside your plates. An awkward silence settles when he leaves, Joel’s leg bouncing anxiously beneath the table as he tries to think of something to say.

“This is weird, right?” You finally say. “This feels weird.”

Joel breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s just what I was thinkin’.”

"Oh, thank god." You take a long sip of your champagne. "I can't believe I actually responded to a Craigslist ad for a date."

"I can't believe my stupid brother came up with this whole thing," Joel replies. "I could'a killed him."

Your eyes go wide. "Wait, your brother made the post? Why?!"

"He seems to think that at thirty-six, I should have had a date for Valentine's Day by now," Joel explains. "Why did you respond to the ad?"

"I had been drinking a lot of wine and having a lot of feelings and the internet was unfortunately not helping the situation."

Joel laughs, tension leaving his shoulders as he does. "We're an interestin' pair, huh?"

"Cheers to that," you reply, lifting your glass for him to tap his against with a gentle clink.

As the dinner progresses, the conversation starts to flow with surprising ease. No topic goes untouched, from jobs to hobbies to a long list of favorites. When you’ve exhausted those topics, you move on to swapping stories about your friends and families. By the time he finishes paying a hefty check (and declining your offer to split the cost), Joel feels like he’s known you for a lifetime.

"I had a really nice time, Joel.”

"Me, too," he replies. Christ, you're pretty, bright eyed as you look at him with a soft smile. He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer until your chest brushes his and can wrap an arm around your waist. "This okay?"

"Mhm," you hum with a little nod. Joel's gaze drops to your mouth and he finds himself wondering what your pretty lips would feel like as he kissed you. Would he be able to taste that chocolate torte from dessert on your tongue?

“Joel?” You whisper. He didn’t even realize how close he’s gotten, a few scant inches separating you now. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

He chuckles. “You want me to?”

“Please.”

Joel kisses you, warm lips moving in perfect harmony with yours. It’s chaste, until it’s not. It’s chaste, until his tongue sweeps against your bottom lip and dips inside to tangle with yours. It’s chaste, until his hands are pulling you closer with a tight grip on your hips and—

“Get a room!”

You break apart, startled by the shout from someone passing by on the sidewalk. You can’t stop the laugh that breaks free, your shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“You wanna get out of here?” Joel asks. “I can walk you to your car.”

“I took a cab, actually.”

Joel smirks. “You want a ride, sweetheart?”

Your face grows hot from the look in his eyes, the double meaning to his words not lost. He holds a hand out and you slip your palm against his, fingers folding together so that he can lead you to the parking lot down the street from the restaurant.

Joel opens the passenger door of the truck you recognize from the photo in the ad, helping you step up into the cab and going so far as to pull the seatbelt down, reaching across your body to fasten it. He looks up at as he pulls away, hand dragging across your stomach and making you shiver.

He shuts the door and gets in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the parking lot and following your directions toward your apartment. At the first red light, he settles his broad palm on your thigh, just above your knee, giving you a little squeeze. Feeling bold, you spread your legs the tiniest bit and Joel takes the invitation for what it is, sliding his hand higher.

The light turns green and the sudden movement presses you to the back of the seat, jostles you enough that your legs fall open further. You move to close them, but Joel’s hand moves again, high enough now that if you moved the slightest bit, you could probably get some relief from the ache that’s been building since he kissed you.

His pinky stretches, barely grazing your pussy, but it makes you gasp nonetheless, squirming in your seat from the want. At the next red light, he abandons all pretense, slipping his hand beneath the elastic of your panties and dragging his fingers through the embarrassing amount of wetness that’s already gathered there for him.

“Fuck,” he groans. You turn your head to look at him, his sharp jaw clenched tight as he circles your clit with his index and middle finger. “This wet for me already, baby?”

You moan in response, unable to form words as he touches you, alternating between soft strokes and fast circles over your sensitive clit. Your hips chase his every movement, desperate for relief from the pressure building in your core.

“Joel,” you whimper, grabbing his forearm, digging your nails into the muscle. Your eyes squeeze shut against the overwhelming sensations.

He turns the truck and hastily throws it in park, pulling his hand from you just as you were cresting that wave. You whine at the loss but he shushes you, undoing your seatbelt and getting out of the truck with a slam of the door. It takes you a second to realize he’s stopped because you’ve reached your apartment complex.

The passenger door opens and Joel is there, gripping the door tightly. “Let’s go.”

You lead him to your door on unsteady legs. He follows you inside your apartment, pressed close to your back while you set your bag on the table by the door.

“Where’s your room?” He asks, hands already rucking up the fabric of your dress. “I gotta finish what I started.”

You hurry down the hall to your room together and you silently thank your past self for cleaning up before your date. Joel wastes no time reaching for the hem of your dress, tugging it up over your head and tossing it into a heap on the floor.

“Fuck, even prettier than I imagined,” he groans, dropping to his knees. “Soon as you walked in wearin’ that I knew I was a goner.” He eases your panties down your thighs, helps you step out of them without toppling over. “On the bed.”

You obey without hesitation, crawling across your familiar mattress and lying on your back, head on your pile of pillows. Joel removes his suit jacket, eyes dark as his gaze roams across your body and makes your skin prickle under the intensity. His shirt and pants follow in quick succession, leaving him in a pair of boxer briefs that highlight an impressive bulge.

Joel joins you on the bed and you’re hypnotized by the movement of muscle beneath tan skin. He urges your legs apart, calves draped over his broad shoulders to give him room to settle between your thighs. He looks up at you, holding your gaze as he takes his first taste of you with a deep groan you feel through your whole body.

Your head drops back to your pillow with a shout, legs tensing around Joel’s head. You bury your hands in his hair, holding on tight while he devours you. His tongue circles your clit before dipping down to your dripping center to curl inside of you. A thick finger follows, pressing deep and withdrawing slowly.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” Joel says. “How’s that feel, huh?”

“So good,” you moan. “More, please, Joel.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He eases another finger into you, curling them along your front wall with pointed focus. That knot of release tights again, your muscles growing tense with it the longer he moves with your body. He wraps his lips around your aching clit, alternating between sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and working it with his tongue until you’re shouting a string of curses and shatter beneath him.

Joel works you through your orgasm until you’re gasping for breath, more puddle than human. He crawls up your body, leaving kisses on what seems like every inch of you as he does and you pull him close when he’s face to face with you, kissing him deeply and chasing the earthy taste of yourself from his mouth.

His hips press against yours, grinding his length against your inner thigh. The kiss turns sloppy, his breath coming in sharp pants and thrusts growing frantic, skin dappled with sweat in the warm air of your room. You tilt your hips, pushing a hand against his shoulder to get him flat on his back with you straddling his waist, stomach flexing beneath you.

He’s deliciously disheveled beneath you with messy hair and kiss swollen lips. His hands find your thighs, sliding upward over your stomach to find your breasts, pinching a nipple between his fingers and making you hiss. Your hips rock over the softness of his belly and you reach behind yourself to palm his cock.

“Look real good like this,” Joel pants, flexing into your touch.

“Well, you did ask me if I wanted a ride,” you tell him.

You lean over towards your nightstand, tugging the top drawer open and rummaging around for a condom. Foil packet in hand, you lift off of Joel for a moment to allow him the chance to hastily shove his underwear off before settling back down on top of his thighs and taking his length in your hand with a slow stroke that makes his mouth drop open, cock pulsing against your palm. You lean forward, licking the flushed tip clean of the pre-cum gathered there.

“You’re killin’ me,” Joel says through gritted teeth. “Wanna feel you, quit teasin’.”

You decide to put you both out of your misery, ripping the condom wrapper and rolling the latex over him. You lift up and he holds his cock steady with a fist around the base as you position yourself over him on your knees and slowly take him into your tight heat, twin moans echoing in the room as you do.

When your hips are flush with his, the wiry curls at the base of his cock grow damp with your arousal as you rock above him, grinding your clit against him and clenching around his length. He holds your hips in a loose grasp, not urging your movements but feeling them as you chase your pleasure.

“Christ,” Joel moans, head tipped back and eyes squeezed shut. He plants his feet, thrusting up as you grind down and making you gasp. “Ain’t lastin’ much longer, baby.”

You lean forward, changing the angle and allowing him to pound inside of you, his cock pulsing as his release nears. You’re right there with him, the drag of his cock against that sweet spot inside of you making you tip over the edge with a shout muffled into the sweat slick skin of his neck.

He slams himself deep, cock pulsing as he spends himself into the condom inside of you. You collapse against his chest, the two of you catching your breath in the aftermath. When you roll off of Joel and onto the mattress, he’s quick to pull you back against him, your head resting on his chest.

“That was—“

“Yeah,” you interrupt breathlessly. “It was.”

After a moment, Joel quietly asks, “What now?”

“You can stay…if you want.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing along your shoulder. “I want that.”

Joel’s phone rings at an ungodly hour the next morning. He struggles to find his discarded pants in the dark but when he finally unearths the obnoxious device, his greeting is a snapped, “What?”

“He lives!” Tommy cheers from the other end. “It was a fifty-fifty chance you were dead or in bed.”

“What do you want, Tommy?”

“Just checkin’ to see how the date went. Must’ve been pretty good, seein’ as how I’m at your house and you’re nowhere to be found.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Fuck off,” he says. He’s about to hang up when he hears Tommy shout, “Wait!”

“What now?” Joel asks.

“Ain’t you gonna thank me?”

Joel snaps the phone shut, tossing it into the piles of clothes and crawling back into bed with you.

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fic #tlou fanfiction #tommy tlou

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bangtanintotheroom · 1 month

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Make Me Water (M)(Teaser)

Can you blow my mind?

Set off my whole body

If I give you my time

Can you snatch my soul from me?

🔊 water - tyla; make me - britney spears, g-eazy; the look - ali gatie, kehlani; meeting in my bedroom - silk; tonight - dxvn., daniel di angelo; slidin' - kai and more... 🔊

• Pairing: Seonghwa x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Friends to Lovers, Smut, Fluff

• Rating: 18+

• Words: (teaser) 433

• Summary: The most unexpected topic comes up during a drinking session with your friends, leading to one of them making a rather bold claim. You declare that they’re full of shit and unintentionally make them determined to prove you wrong.

• Warnings/themes: drinking, swearing, explicit sexual content, discussion about inappropriate topics, Seonghwa and his bedroom eyes 😶, Y/N is in for the ride of her life, bickering, making out, body worship, teasing, edging, praise, fingering, squirting (it’s gon be real wet up in here 🗣️💦), dirty talk, oral (f. and m. receiving), hints of come eating, multiple orgasms, creampie, multiple positions, unprotected sex (dooon’t do this), aftercare

• Notes: Well well well, looks like we've got another ATEEZ fic coming up 🤨 Seonghwa has been slowly inching his way into my second bias spot and I've been in the mood for something extra filthy, so here we go! The amount of research I've had to do for this topic is almost embarrassing jcbvosiovbs 💖

• Teaser Notes: Teasers are a WIP and will not fully reflect the final draft, warnings and themes are subject to change. If you want to be tagged when the final draft is released, either leave a reply or shoot me an ask! PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE PRESENT IN YOUR BIO OR YOU WILL NOT BE TAGGED.

• Taglist: @minttangerines @minisugakoobies @kiestrokes @hyunjinsjeans @firesighgirl @swga-ficrecs

“Why bother telling you when I could just show you?”

Your fingers seemed to lose their grip on the plate, clattering into the sink loudly.

What? He did not just say that.

You turned to gawk at Seonghwa before stuttering, “H-Huh?”

He was nonplussed as he met your eyes, repeating, “I could just prove you wrong. Actions speak louder than words, no?”

Was he fucking serious? Seonghwa offering to show you how he could make you squirt?

“Hwa, you…you’re joking, right?”

“I’m not.”

Judging by the look on his face, he really wasn’t.

Feeling a heat begin to creep up the back of your neck, you tore your gaze away to grab the plate, picking it up and checking to see if it suffered any damage from your slip-up.

“Come on, be for real right now. I can’t do that.”

“You can’t let me touch you or you can’t squirt?”

You almost threw the abused dish back down as your head whipped up to fix him a flustered glare.

“Both! One, we’re friends. Two, I’ve never squirted and I never will.”

Seonghwa gave you an equally stern look, firing back, “We’re both single and it would just be between the two of us. And have you ever even tried?”

“N-No, but—”

“So how would you know?”

You pursed your lips, feeling a wave of frustration mixed with defeat overcoming you. He had a point. He could probably tell by the look on your face that you knew this, yet he didn’t gloat or prod you further. Seonghwa just kept watching you and waiting for your next defense to come out. But it didn’t come for a while as your mind raced with thoughts, coming up with one that threw you off-guard.

Would it really be so bad to say yes?

“There’s still a chance for you to back out, Y/N. It’s your call.”

Seonghwa’s body language was pretty clear in what answer he really wanted to hear. The way he continuously brushed his thumb over your knuckles and looked deep into your eyes let you know how much he was looking forward to this experience.

And yet he still gave you full control over it.

A grateful smile couldn’t help but stretch over your lips as you completely made up your mind. Your palm turned over to still his wandering thumb, scooting closer until your knee touched his own.

Leaning in, you whispered into his ear, “Show me what you can do.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2024. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

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launlili · 23 days

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warnings : use of pet names , smut , fingering, stepbro yeonjun,not proofread,fingering and more idk :3

MDNI ! im not reponsible for what yall read here, sorry

yeonjun was a really nice personality infront of everyone , like as i mentioned but little do they know that jjun is and type of step brother who would fuck his step sis till she cant even walk , making her a mubbling mess and record all that shit and then jerk off to it then

. . . . . . .

yeonjun was an unvi going student mean while his step sis , you , were still in high school , one day you were hving trouble getting your bio test togther cuz it was tmrw and you understood ntg at all . so you thought how abt you go and ask yeonjun. you go up to yeonjun and ask for help and he thinks for sec.... and nob , you go and sit next to him on the bed for context ,you were wearing ur a loss shirt and shorts , you forward your bio books to him , for few mintues you glance at him and the book the entire time as yeonjun was rewinding it and then he nobs and starts to teach you what it was abt , you were trying your best to understand bu you could not stop your eyes to go down to his cock area since he was wearing gray trousers , he was explaining to you the chapter thinking your listening mean while your way too focused in his dick. your mouth a little open as your eyes were fixed on his covered dick under his grey trouser, he stopped talking as he noticed that you were busy focusing on smtg and as he realized where your gaze was at ,he chuckles softly and he gentally holds your chin and and makes you to look into his lustfully gaze

" sweetie are you even listening?"

he raises a brow with huge grin , your cheeks turn red out embarrassment, you quickly look away and palm your face as jjun slides his hand to your waist and goes near your neck, his sweet breathe hits your neck as he breathes you in and leave sweet kisses on your neck as you bite your lower lip to bite back a moan "how come you smell so good my love "

i say againest your ear and kisses the lower area of it , you lean in to his touch too. he press againest you even more as you start to feel his wieght over you geting heavy and heavy as you finally rest you elbows befind you and he is now on the top of you as you stare at him with widen eyes as he leans in even more and your boths lips crashes on each others , he groans againest your lips as he starts to slide his left hand under your shirt as his other hand stays on your waist, his hand goes up your chest and unzip your bra and and takes it off but your shirt was still on , he toses the bra away and again slides his hand beneath your shirt and his lips go down your jaw as he kept massageing your breastes. you moan softly as he gone down your neck as his other hand which was on your waist goes down to your waist band of the shorts and takes them off of you and now you were wearing only a shirt , he pulls away and you open your eyes and look at him with your low eyes as his knuckles strokes gently on your inner thigh as uses his other hand to take off your shirt that you were wearing and his eyes were hungrily roaming on your tits as he leans in and kiss her collarbone as his hand which was on your inner thigh goes up and stops at your clit and slowly and at steady speed his starts to rub the area around it , pleasuring you so perfectly that you couldnt help but bite your lower lip and whine. he stops at kissing and sucking at your collarbone as he stare at your reaction licking his teeths while smirking widely as his fingers picked pace

" you like it ? huh ?" he says chuckling , pretty much teasing you as you whined and moan at the sudden speed

he suddenly slipped his two fingers inside you and finger you at a intense speed as you moan louder and you throw your head back and your eyes roll back to your brain as your thighs tremble from the intense pleasure,you could feel your realse coming closer and closer as you could control anymore and squirt all over his lower abdemon as he laughed and grabed a tissue by the side table and clean himself a little and as he looked at you again , you were laying there all fcked out while laying on your stomach , you were already asleep from how intense that all was and he chuckled and toke out his phone and toke a photo of your fucked out face looking all cute ~~~

a/n : ummm i know i dissapointed yall umm yea 😍😍😍

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt #yeonjun smut #txt hard thoughts #yeonjun #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun hard thoughts

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rogersideup · 2 months

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｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 6

Little Birdie

Series masterlist

Previous part: Rearview next part: Twinkles

Word Count: 7,800

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions and descriptions of sexual acts, anxiety, and sever depression.

One week.

Steve made it one whole week without you.

It was one of the longest weeks of his life.

Every day for seven days straight he needed Bucky to convince him not to text or call you. That conversation usually happened as Steve paced around his living room, while Bucky sat on his couch, threatening to get up and rip the phone out of his hands.

He couldn't even text you outside of work hours considering you blocked his number from being able to do so, but that still didn't stop the itch he felt to just see your name on his phone screen again.

Both boys were in agreement that Steve eventually should reach out and try to fix the damage that was done, because if your situation at the compound needed to get better just for the chance that you would stay, you at least needed your best friends back. But Bucky knew you deserved time and space away from all of the drama to really process it and figure out how you wanted it to end.

Bucky also knew a week of no contact with Steve would help the both of you stop fueling the fire. The harsh words would settle, reflecting back on the situation wouldn't feel as dramatic, and maybe now Steve would finally find the right words without the sight of you every day.

Plus, he would be damned if he let Steve have a conversation this serious with you over the phone.

Sure, both boys were extremely worried about you. There were a few times Bucky wanted to call and check up on you too, but he knew his own feelings shouldn't come before yours right now.

Meanwhile, the week did you wonders. You spent your days reconnecting with everything you used to love. Your favorite restaurants in the area, old friends you barely got to see now that you lived so far, the old yoga studio you attended 4 times a week, and seeing your family every day was healing in ways you didn't even know your heart could reach.

Filling the mornings and afternoons with everything you loved was important, but you knew better than to completely disregard the real issues at hand. So every night you'd go on a walk to the pretty park a few blocks from your childhood home, and meditate under the moon.

With the one airpod you had left, you'd let music shuffle and allow the lyrics to guide your thoughts. Some were a little to sad to bare, others were so on the nose you couldn't help but to listen over and over again while allowing the words to comfort you like a hug you've really been needing.

You and Steve were still friends and shared a playlist on your favorite music streaming app. Every night at the park you could see he was listening to sad music, and knew he could see you doing the same. Dramatic? Maybe. Were the sad melodies making you feel understood and less alone? Absolutely.

Eventually he got brave and while you sat under the moon and admired the stars, your headphones read the newest notification.

Steve Rogers added new song to playlist: Little Freak by Harry Styles.

You sighed, but against your better judgement you let the song play to understand what he was trying to say to you. Though the song was familiar to you, all this music was new to Steve. He loved listening to all your favorite artists and bonding over the modern music. The message was loud and clear when you heard it.

"I was thinking about who you are, your delicate point of view, I was think about you. I'm not worried about where you are or who you will go home too, I'm just thinking about you. I disrespected you, jumped in feet first and I landed too hard. Broken ankle, karma rules."

You knew deep down that you shouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response. He didn't deserve to be invading your sacred space, he knew how much music meant to you. But on the other hand, he deserved to know how much he hurt you. If he got to send you a message through song, you deserved to speak your mind too.

So you added a new song to the playlist as well. My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift.

"Even on my worst day, did I deserve babe, all the hell you gave me? Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you till my dying day. I didn't have it in myself to go with grace. You're the hero flying around saving face. If I'm dead to you why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed? Look at how my tears ricochet."

After that, your phone was silent and nothing else was added to your playlist. You could see he listened to the song, then once it was over he was no longer active on the app.

You'd usually let your mind really reflect on what happened and what you wanted going forward, but you found that Steve took up most of your thoughts, and what to do about your career always came second to him.

It seems like your Mom and Dad's advice always leaned towards joining the Avengers. But why wouldn't it? All they ever wanted for you was to find something you love and run as far as you could with it.

Jane would've preferred you leave the field completely. You knew the nature of your job left her in a permanent state of unease about your safety, but you always reassured her that you were in good hands so you'd be okay.

Nathan was a little more understanding that not everything was so black and white, so he played devils advocate for all sides, and of course Luca wanted you to join the Avengers.

Hearing all of their perspectives was helpful to see the bigger picture, but at the end of the day, only Jane and Nathan knew the extent of what happened. You kept the whole Steve and Bucky situation away from your parents for the same reason you kept it away from Luca, you didn't want to ruin the illusion of a superhero for them.

Also.... Your parents really didn't need to know the nitty gritty on your escapades with the winter soldier.

All good things came to an end, especially having your whole family under one roof. After a whole week together, Jane, Nathan, and Luca had to go home to get back to their own life, while your mom and dad left to go on a few day vacation they had planned months ago. So it left you, and the family dog, Rocket, you happily agreed to take care of in their absence.

It was actually kind've nice to have time to yourself. You filled the day with morning yoga, brunch with a friend, some journaling and therapy, and a much needed nap. As the sun went down, you threw a toy around the house to try and get Rocket's energy out but it didn't help much. So after you cooked and ate dinner, you grabbed a tennis ball and walked him a few blocks to the park.

Luckily he was allowed off leash, and there was one other dog there for a little while that took an immediate liking to him, so they ran around and tuckered each other out while you sat on the grass and watched.

Eventually his little friend left, so it left just the two of you, the tennis ball, and the twinkling stars above head.

As lame as it felt to admit, the small spotty brown dachshund filled your soul with so much joy that you couldn't wipe the smile off your face. Throwing the ball, and watching his little legs carry him so far, so fast with tiny little hops was definitely one of the cutest things you've seen in a while.

He was a brave and trusting little creature in most aspects of life, but when the rumble of an approaching motorcycle got a little too loud for his liking, Rocket came running back to your side with his tail between his legs.

Sitting by your side, you picked him up and held him close to your chest while speaking calming words to him that he definitely didn't understand. You pressed little kisses to his forehead, and he licked your cheek in return causing you to laugh.

Feeling a little annoyed that the motorcycle pulled into the parking area for the park you were occupying on your own, you stayed vigilant of your surroundings. Fully prepared to leave when the man got off the bike, you set Rocket down and started reaching for his leash before the dog started running towards the man who was now walking towards the both of you.

"Hey! Rocket, no!" You jumped up from your spot to chase after the irrationality fast weenie. Tail wagging, and happy wiggles took over his little body as he hopped up on his back two legs to greet the stranger. "I'm so sorry! He usually never does this, I don't know why he's... oh."

I'm front of you stood none other than Steve Rogers himself, looking delectable and cozy in a cute teal crewneck and some casual pants with sneakers on. You immediately had a billion and one questions, but he was very obviously taken by Rocket who was also very obviously taken by Steve. There was a serious love as first sight situation happening as Steve leaned down with a big smile on his face to say hi to the little dog.

"It's okay!" Steve giggled, squatting down to get closer to Rocket. "He soooo stinkin' cute!"

"What are you doing here?" You asked, feeling throughly confused, and immediately feeling a little defensive and protective.

When he looked up at you, your arms crossed over your chest as a form of self soothing. It had been so long since you felt this uncomfortable energy, and having it ripple through your body once more felt like reconnecting with an old friend.

"Oh, I was just in the area." Steve said sarcastically, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders.

"Right." You agreed. "Casually in the area two hours away from home... on a motorcycle?"

"An hour and 45 minutes is only an hour and 20 on a bike." Steve noted with a shy smile.

"And how did you know that this area you so happened to be in was the same place I was, even though I never told anyone where I was?" You tilted your head to the side.

"Oh, it's easy. A little birdie told me." Steve noted.

"What was the bird's name?"

"That's not important." He denied, still smiling at the dog but standing to his full height.

"I don't know, feels kind've important to me." You hated that you had to hold back a smile as you looked at him. And you hated even more that you couldn't stop thinking about how stupidly cute he looked with helmet hair and a cozy crewneck on.

"Do you want to sit and chat?" Steve asked, suddenly seeming nervous. "...if not that's fine we can talk a different time if you want."

"You came all this way just to talk?" You questioned.

Steve swallowed nervously as he nodded.

“You could've called me." You challenged.

"Sometimes I think the old fashioned way of doing things is better." He shrugged. "...Also you blocked my phone number after work hours."

You sighed and pointed to your blanket on the grass. "Sit."

He quickly nodded and obeyed your orders. He sat first, and you sat next to him, Rocket trailed behind with the tennis ball in his mouth before happily handing it to Steve.

"Who is this little guy?" Steve asked, throwing the ball for him.

"Rocket"

"Like the raccoon?"

“No, he's my parent's dog. They just thought the name suited him. But they're out of town for the next 3 days so he's mine until then." You explained.

"I heard you spent some time with your family. You look a lot happier, do you feel better?"

"So Jane was the birdie who told you where I was." You noted.

"Will not confirm nor deny."

"Mmm" you hummed, reading between the lines. "Yes, it was very nice spending time with people who love me. I do feel a lot better, but it's going to take a lot longer than a week to heal from everything that happened."

"Of course it will, but all that matters is that it's getting a little better everyday." Steve noted. "I don't know if this helps, but I think I put the fear of the devil into Harvey and all his friends. Should you choose to come back, I don't think they would be an issue for you anymore."

"Do I even want to know what you did to them?" You asked.

"I don't think the details really matter too much right now." Steve shrugged once more.

A very uncomfortable silence fell over the two of you, so you threw the ball for Rocket this time.

"Would you like to talk about the hard stuff?" Steve raised.

"Can't we just talk about the weather?" You complained, dreading the inevitable.

"It's pretty chilly out tonight." Steve noted. "You're not cold?"

"Nope." You exaggerated the P at the end of the word.

"Good chat." Steve giggled at the astronomical amount of discomfort and awkwardness you were exuding. "This is never going to get better if we don't talk about it."

"I haven't cried in a few days." You told him. "I'm dreading losing my streak."

"Crying is healthy, and so is expressing emotions." Steve told you. "For example, I really missed you and I've been worried about you for a while now, so I'm here to express that."

"Oh, so you weren't just in the area?" You questioned.

"I took my motorcycle to get to you as fast as I could, because I waited a whole week and every single day that passed by without me giving you a much needed apology was killing me slowly with an amount of guilt I didn't even know was possible for a human being to feel. So no, I was absolutely nowhere near the area."

"Was that the apology?"

"No." Steve denied. "I'm really sorry for everything that's happened. I feel like every interaction I've had with you this past month has been a really bad reflection of my character. I should've went about the whole situation with a lot more logic and understanding, and I should've just listened to you and Bucky before letting anger get the best of me. It wasn't fair to you."

Your eyes stayed fixed on Rocket as he hopped around the grass, he watched you slowly nod while processing his words. "I never meant to hurt your feelings, and if I knew back then what I knew now, Bucky and I would've never..."

"I know." Steve saved you from having to finish that statement. "And our last training was just... completely unacceptable. I wish there was a logical explanation as to why I was so upset that day. Quite honestly, every time I even start to think about it I feel just horribly embarrassed and completely mortified. I'm sorry for not listening to you and telling you that I didn't care. I'm sorry for scaring you and completely breaking your trust. Most importantly I'm really fucking sorry for hurting you. I should've listened better and walked you to medical the second you said something, and the fact that I only made it worse has kept me awake every night since it happened."

"Bucky said you were having a tough few days." You noted.

"It doesn't matter." Steve declined. "I need to do better than that, and I will. You were having some really hard days too, but you never used it as a reason to treat me like shit."

“I was pretty shitty to you."

"But within reason."

"I told you to ignore my existence, called you some not so nice names, yelled at you a few times..."

"Because I pushed you to that level of anger."

"The fact of the matter is that you felt that way because you felt disregarded and disrespected by Bucky and I, and for that, I'm sorry too." You apologized. "I know you weren't interested in hearing me out before when this all happened, and at the time none of the words really came out right. So if you're open to it, I feel like I'd really like a chance to explain the choices I made."

"Of course." Steve practically whispered with a subtle nod, throwing the ball once more for the dog. "But don't feel obligated to. I don't think I would've come all this way if I hadn't already forgiven you."

"This is never going to get better if we don't talk about it." You used his own words against him.

"Ah, so you do think we could make it better?" Steve asked.

"Why wouldn't I want it to get better?"

Steve sighed. "You made it pretty clear in a few different ways that you didn't want me as a friend or even around you at all anymore. A big part of me was expecting you to turn me away for good when I showed up here."

"Oh... sorry." You mumbled sadly, suddenly feeling bad about all the words you shouted at him out of pure, hot red anger.

"S'okay."

"Growing up, I was never really the center of attention for anything. I was never good at anything, I got straight B's in school, I had 2 friends at most. Even as I got older and went through high school I wasn't paid much attention to. I never had a boyfriend, I struggled a lot to make friends, once I even went to my teacher to ask him a question 4 months into senior year and he thought I was a new student even though I had been sitting in the second row of his class every single day."

"...yikes." Steve cringed.

"Yikes is right." You agreed. "I never thought I would exceed at anything at all in life. My big plans were finding a 5-9 desk job to make ends meet then just keep going until I didn't have to anymore. Then I discovered the joy of helping people, realized maybe I'm not all that bad at it, and before I knew it I was at Shield. Then all of the sudden I went from never getting much attention my entire life, to having all eyes on me at all times. I was being held to impossibly high standards, the boys wouldn't leave me alone, it felt like regardless of where I was in the building, there was this big huge spotlight on me."

Rocket had finally gotten too tired to play with his ball, so he came back to you and Steve, and laid down right next to Steve's leg. "Even I was hearing about you before you had made it to high enough ranks to work with me."

"Getting no male attention your whole life will kind've mess you up a bit, but going from no male attention to getting thrown into the compound where only a handful of other women work will mess you up a lot."

"Like throwing a zebra into a pack of lions."

"Even that feels like an understatement." You grinned. "Harvey was the first guy I met that didn't feel like he was going to eat me alive, so I stuck with him."

"He was your first boyfriend?" Steve asked, sounding genuinely appalled.

"He was my first everything." You admitted shyly. "I thought he was one of the good ones, like that one boy you waited your whole life for. But obviously I was stupid, and that turned out to be one of the bigger mistakes of my life."

"He's the stupid one, not you." Steve denied.

"When I met you and Bucky, it was a big breath of fresh air. You guys helped me realize that Harvey was bad for me, but at that point I was already convinced he would be the only guy who would ever be stupid enough to fall in love with me. So I stayed way longer than I should've, but in the meantime I felt like I had opened up to you and Bucky far more than I ever had to Harvey. We started training together and talking more, and at that point I felt like I had given you so much more of myself than I had ever given anyone else in my life. Which I know sounds odd, but we were having these really good conversations that made me feel really vulnerable but in a good way, and we had built so much trust and understanding of each other that I never had to question what your intentions were when you were around."

Asshole. Asshole. Asshole. That was the only word Steve could think of at the moment. How he felt, how he treated you, how he made you feel, he was an asshole.

"I'll spare you details, but after Harvey and I officially called it quits obviously I was really fucking sad. I wanted to see you, but you were away on a mission and I just needed to be with a friend so I went to Bucky's place instead. I had all of this new found freedom, paired with this gut wrenching feeling that I was going to be alone and unloved for the rest of my life, and a good friend in front of my face who was just so kind and gentle...things just happened. I wasn't the one to initiate, but I definitely didn't put a stop to it because for once it was really nice to feel wanted. We didn't even kiss or see each other naked, it felt like less of a big deal to me and far less vulnerable or intimate than most of the stunts and challenges I let you guide me through in training. Bucky and I weren't trying to be malicious and we had no bad intentions in our choice to not tell you, I was just afraid that you wouldn't understand and that you'd take it the wrong way. Which, with all due respect, you didn't understand and by the time I even got a chance to try to explain it to you, we were both so angry and defensive that none of the words would come out right."

Working up the courage to look at Steve to gauge any sort of emotional reaction from him, his face was full of remorse as his eyes stayed set on the dog as his hands gently pet his long body and scratched the top of his head.

You took the chance to take a deep breath and let your palm sink into the fluffy park grass, one last ditch effort to ground yourself before the getting into the hardest part of the conversation. "That fear of misunderstanding and miscommunication is exactly why you didn't tell me or Bucky or anyone for that matter that you liked me. And just like how the information about what Bucky and I did got to you in the wrong way at the wrong time, that information got to me in the very wrong way at the very wrong time. And just like you, I didn't understand, and I felt hurt and betrayed because of it."

You watched Steve's cheeks turn red before he hid his face in his hands and let out a groan, earning a little smile from you that he couldn't even see. "Can we just talk about the weather again?"

"Sure thing." You agreed. "I think I lied to you on accident, because now I am kind've cold."

"Wow I'll never forgive you." He joked dryly, mumbling into the palms of his hands.

"That's okay, we can add it to the list of dumb shit we gotta talk through." You giggled. "Well, seems like that covers the weather category again. Are you ready to come out of hiding?"

He peeked one eye out between his fingers. "No. I kind've wish the floor would swallow me whole right now."

"Wow, I didn't think that you had a weak spot, but I found it." You enthused.

Although it was at much too high a cost, seeing a genuine smile on your face for the first time in over a month was like a big breath of fresh air to Steve.

"I'm not covering my ears, I can still hear you perfectly fine. Please continue." He grumbled.

"Just to put you out of your misery and conclude that horrifically long sob story I just subjected you to..." You started. "I was only hurt in that moment because after fooling around with Bucky and getting the information that you liked me sprung on me, it felt like I had lost the only two people in the compound who didn't see me as or treat me like an object of some weird sexual fantasy. Part of me even felt mad and embarrassed at myself for believing that we could've been friends without you guys seeing me that way. Plus, I had all those people in the compound already saying the only reason I was getting so far in my career was because I was sleeping with you, and I so desperately didn't want them to be right. So, all of that being said, I'm sorry too, I should've never been so mean to you. I'm sorry that Bucky and I hurt you, I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions and not letting you explain yourself while accusing you of things you'd never do."

"Like I said earlier, I already forgave you." Steve slowly let his hands fall from his face, cheeks still stained a pretty pink color.

"That doesn't mean you don't deserve an apology." You reminded him. "We both hurt each other, it's not fair for you to take all the blame."

"I feel like I'm going to throw up" Steve took a deep breath.

"Don't do that" you shook your head. "Please don't throw up."

"I hope you know that our friendship has always meant a lot to me, and absolutely none of it was a scheme to sleep with you." Steve braved through the hard part of the conversation he absolutely wished he never had to think about again.

"Yeah, I do now." You reassured him. "I'm sorry I said that."

"I really just didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable." Steve explained. "Especially in an environment where you were already getting eaten alive. Plus I was your boss, and you had Harvey, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship... and, yeah, I dunno. It was just a mess. I didn't tell Bucky because I didn't want him to tell me to tell you. He figured it out on his own, by the way. Apparently my eyes twinkle too much, whatever that means."

"I'm not uncomfortable, and yeah, you do have really twinkly eyes." You grinned.

"I guess that's your fault" Steve jokingly sassed.

"Oh so now we're pointing fingers?" You took fake offense.

"From this point on, I'd really like it if everyone could just ignore the twinkle in my eyes so we can all get back to being friends like we were before." Steve said, giving you a really easy escape to officially denying him.

"But I think the twinkles are so pretty!" You enthused, giggling when you could practically see his heart drop.

"You shouldn't be saying things like that when you know I already feel like throwing up." Steve shook his head and clutched his stomach.

"But I mean it." You confirmed. "Knowing what I know now, why would we ever go back to being how we were before?"

Steve swallowed thickly, then his hands started exaggerated movements to further get his point across. "I'm trying to give you an easy way out of telling me you don't want me back in the same way."

"I understand, but that wouldn't be true." You giggled. "I do remember you stating very clearly that you aren't my boss anymore, am I remembering that correctly?"

"No, technically I'm not you b-" He rambled quietly.

"Do we think this would do anything to harm our sweet little Bucky boy?"

"No. He's been going out with Natasha and has been trying to get me to ask y-"

"You we're so kind as to cut me some deals, so I've got one for you too. Let's take some time to let everything settle and heal over, then when the time is right, we'll explore more of that little twinkle, alright?"

"Okay." Steve nodded wide eyed and enthusiastic.

"Yeah? Are you going to throw up?" You questioned with a smile.

"Maybe only a little bit." He continued nodding.

"I guess that's better than a lot-a-bit" you justified.

"So we're okay?" Steve asked, twinkly eyed and puppy dogged face.

"We're okay." You confirmed. "Can I give you a hug? You look like you really need it."

Steve opened his arms for you, and you both had to awkwardly lean over Rocket who was instantly stayed tucked next to his leg. Embracing him tightly, you realized just how badly you needed it too.

Both unwilling to let go for a little while, you took the time to appreciate his body heat that was a stark difference between the cold air outside.

"I'm sorry." Steve quietly apologized again.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too." You accepted. "I really missed you, Stevie."

"I missed you too, Bug. I've been so worried about you lately." One of his hands was very sweetly rubbing your back.

"Sorry." You sighed. "I've been trying my best."

"I know. That doesn't make me worry any less."

"I love you." You reminded him for the first time in a while.

Steve relaxed and let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding onto. "I love you more."

Although you could've hugged him forever, the two of you mutually unwrapped yourself from each other.

"How is your shoulder?" He questioned remorsefully.

"Oh, it's fine." You told him. "It feels so much better. I've been doing yoga all week and it's held up nicely."

"Good, that's good." He nodded. "And have you put any thought into what you're going to do about your job?"

"Everyone seems to want me to do something different." You sighed. "I've been coming here almost every night just to think about it. It's really nice that the sprinklers don't turn on at 10 pm."

“What do you want to do?"

"I think I know what I want, but I'm really scared of making the jump." You explained.

"I'm not here to talk you in or out of anything, I was just curious." Steve grinned. "You still have the rest of the week to think it through. But just know that I have no doubt in your ability to handle a big scary jump"

"I can usually only handle big scary jumps because most of the time, you're down at the bottom waiting to catch me." You admitted.

"Well regardless of what you choose, I'll still always be here for you." Steve reminded you sweetly. "I just hope you do what you think is best for you, and not what other people want you to do."

“That's the thing, I don't think I know what's good for me."

"Are you kidding me? You have great intuition." Steve said. "Your just need to gain back trust for that little voice in your head that's telling you what to do."

"The same voice that bullies me every day?!" You asked with a giggle. "Absolutely not, she gets no say in any of my choices nowadays."

Steve close lipped smiled at you, his dimples setting deep into his chiseled cheeks. "Then forget you even have a brain and listen to your heart."

"She's also been really problematic recently." You noted. "I don't like her very much right now."

His smile turned into a pout. "That sounds like a very tough thing to not like about yourself."

"Tell me about it." You agreed. "But we're working on it."

"Once again, I guess that's all that matters." Steve noted. "So you can't make a big decision with your heart or your head, and your shoulder is out of the question. We're running low on body parts."

"Maybe I'll let Rocket make the choice for me." You grinned at the sleepy dog.

"I think Rocket should be an Avenger... actually, I think Rocket should come home with me and be my dog instead." Steve smiled, petting the dog once more.

"My parents would hunt you down for sport if you ever took this dog." You giggled. "He's their favorite child."

"But I love him!" Steve pouted like a child. "He's just so fucking cute! Have you seen these ears?!"

"No pets allowed at the compound" You reminded him, nudging his arm. "Maybe that's all the more reason to quit."

“I think that's reason to break the rules, not to quit." Steve corrected.

"Captain America suggesting I break the rules?!" You questioned with a gasp.

"Am I not the same man who's whole career was founded off of breaking the law?" Steve questioned right back. "When have I ever followed the rules?"

"Wow, bad to the bone."

"That sounded sarcastic." He noted as his eyebrow raised in question.

"Me? Sarcastic? Never." You denied.

Rocket readjusted to get more comfortable, but crawled into the hole within Steve's crossed legs and curled up into a little ball in his lap, with his head resting on his thigh.

"Okay that's it." Steve declared, fists balling up to keep himself from unleashing his cuteness aggression on the creature in the form of hugging him so tight his eyes popped out of his head like a stress ball. "I can't take this anymore. How bad would your parents beat me up if I stole this dog? Because really, I think I could take the beating."

"I simply cannot express to you how much taking this dog away from my parents is not an option." You laughed at his question. "I think my Mom would run you over with her car."

"No way she would do that." Steve shook his head. "She was so nice when I met her!"

"She would not be nice if you stole her weenie." You pointed out.

"Come on, she gave me a hug. No mom that's giving out free hugs could ever hit me with a car."

"That's where you're wrong. Because any woman that has so much love for her kids would do anything to seek rightful justice if you did anything to fuck with them." You corrected him. "Even if she's five foot nothing, and you're Captain America. Don't mess with her baby."

“Oh no" Steve's eyes went wide.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh shit." He panicked. "Do your parents hate me?"

"No? Why would they hate you?" You questioned with a nervous laugh.

"Because I accidentally fucked with your Mom's baby and now she's going to do anything to seek rightful justice." Steve clutched the fabric of his sweater right over his chest. "The throw up is coming back."

"I didn't tell them anything about you or Bucky, other than that you didn't let me quit right in the spot." You explained. "They love you and all of the Avengers too much for me to ever ruin their perception of the people who make them feel safe."

"So why do they think you're here?" Steve asked.

"I only told them about Harvey and the general issues I'm having with all of the other agents."

"Your sister knows." He said. "She made a weird comment..."

"She always makes weird comments, that's just what makes Jane, Jane." You smiled. "Yes, she knows, but she likes you a lot. I think she even took your side, she's been advocating for you the whole time."

"She's going to tell your mom, and your mom is going to hunt me for sport."

"No she won't, and even if she does find out about it, she's a very rational person. As long as we're fine, she's fine." You explained. "Look I'll prove it to you, say cheese!"

Quickly taking your phone out of your pocket and pointing the camera at Steve and Rocket, he smiled and you snapped a picture. He watched you type away for a few moments.

You sent the picture in a group chat with your mom and dad, then immediately got a response.

"See! Look! I said, look who came by to hang out with your favorite child." You giggled at your screen, turning it towards him so show that you sent them the picture. "My mom responded and said omg, Dad is honored. We don't know who is cuter, Rocket or Captain Rogers."

"Okay now ask if I can steal the dog." His cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink.

"I thought the point was to make sure my mom liked you" You laughed, locking your phone and putting it on the grass besides you. "Trust that I'm doing you a favor."

"Fine, but I'm not happy about it." He joked.

"I didn't know you felt so passionately about wieners, Steven." You giggled.

"What can I say? There's nothing better than kicking back and playing with a wiener." He ran with your joke.

"A nice, long wiener."

"This is ridiculous" Steve's face scrunched up, earning more of your adorable laughter.

Like no time had passed, you and Steve sat and chatted away for a few hours. You could tell the comfortable conversation was helping him resolve his own internal guilt, so you were happy to stay and chat for as long as he needed. But selfishly, you missed him more than you ever wanted to admit to yourself.

His adorable smile and pretty pink cheeks lit up a part of your heart that you had felt so disconnected from for so long now. And as the night grew colder, and significantly later, he couldn't just ignore the occasional chills that would make you momentarily shiver. You kept ignoring them and playing them off just to spend more time with your sweet friend, but eventually you ended up tucked underneath his arm and snuggled up to his side for warmth while Rocket stayed glued to his lap.

There was little you could do to ignore how comfortable and familiar it felt to be sharing warmth with the soldier. By all means, both Steve and Bucky were touchy people on a normal day to day basis, plus all of the training you did with Steve made you very comfortable with his skin on yours.

But this was different. His head that nestled on top of yours that rested on his shoulder, his big hand on the top of you arm keeping you close and snug against him, paired the gentle and quiet volume in his voice wasn't just friendly.

His hold was apologetic, and almost regretful. It was reconnecting, and mending. You could feel all of his unspoken words seeping out from his warm body to into your cold one, and you wondered if he could feel the same thing happening to him through your timid hand resting between his shoulder blades.

Just based on his calm breaths, but still racing pulse that you could feel on his neck, you knew it was different for him too.

But it was a good different, a hopeful and very exciting different.

Much like your shivers that you ignored and played off, Steve was trying to mask his yawns. Unfortunately, this was something that you couldn't ignore. Especially when you pressed the button on your phone and the screen informed you that it was already 11:52pm.

"As sad as I am to have to put an end to this, it's already almost midnight and your crazy ass drove an hour and a half here on a motorcycle." You reminded him.

"I just got you back, I don't want to leave you again." He pouted.

"I don't want you to leave either, but I'd prefer if you got home safely." Your timid hand now gently rubbing short stripes on his back. "Or you can stay the night with me here if you'd like."

A sleepy grin overtook the sat pout. "Thank you, but once again I don't want your parents to hate me. Plus I have my stupid annual physical in the morning."

"My parents wouldn't hate you, they'd rather you be safe than drive home tired."

"I'm not that tired, I'll be okay." He reassured you. "And you can't come back to the compound?"

"No, I have to watch Rocket." You reminded him. "But I'll see you in a few days at least. I'll be back before the end of the week."

"Oh, you'll be back?" He raised an eyebrow, challenging your statement.

"To give my official resignation at the very least, or to move all of my stuff into the Avengers sector at the very most. Who's to say what's going to happen?" You giggled.

"Well, when you need help moving let me know. I know a couple guys that can lift a few thousand pounds at a time, it helps the process go by really fast." Steve egged you on.

"Uh huh, I'll keep that in mind." You rolled your eyes with a smile, and wrapped your other arm around his front to squeeze him in a sideways hug. "Thanks for coming all the way here. It was really nice getting to have a conversation with you, I really missed spending time together."

"Of course. Thank you for even giving me the chance to explain myself. If I were you, I don't know of I would be able to be that gracious." He squeezed your shoulder in appreciation.

"There isn't much I wouldn't do for you." You grinned.

"Oh yeah? What wouldn't you do?" Steve questioned with a chuckle.

"I won't let you steal my moms dog." You stated. "Which reminds me, I'm going to need that back."

"Okay, I guess you can have him back. " Steve smiled and picked up the little fur-ball from his lap and placed him on yours instead. "Thanks for letting me play with your wiener."

"Feel free to come back and play with my wiener anytime." You laughed at his joke, unwrapping yourself from him as he started standing up.

"What an incredible offer, thank you" Steve smiled, now standing over you and offering you his hand to help you up.

"Like I said, anytime." You playfully winked.

Quickly putting on Rockets leash, you set the dog on the grass and accepted Steve's hand. He pulled you up effortlessly and bent over to grab your blanket from the grass.

"How far away is your parents house?" Steve questioned, subconsciously folding the blanket.

"About two blocks" You shrugged.

"Can I walk you guys home?" He asked, eyes twinkling once more as he shoved his hands in his front pockets to keep them warm.

"Absolutely not" You denied.

He was immediately pretending to be offended with a big gasp and hand whipped out of his pocket and over his heart. "Ma'am, it is pitch black out here and it's already midnight."

You laughed at his response. "Sir, it's pitch black and midnight. Your motorcycle is right there. I'm not letting you walk me two blocks in a neighborhood I'm familiar with because that means you'll have to walk another two blocks back here all by yourself somewhere you've never been. Logistically it makes no sense."

Steve puffed and furrowed his eyebrows. "What if some creepy dude comes and tries to mess with you? Huh? Then what?"

"Then I use all my big and scary self defense moves that Captain America taught me." You answered. "Also, do you not see this big scary guard dog? Nobody is going to fuck with me."

His pout deepened. "What if you start walking home and some dude on a motorcycle follows you all the way home?"

"Is that what's going to happen?" You giggled at his question.

"If you keep saying you're not going to let me walk you home then maybe it will." Steve shrugged.

"I've been walking by myself this late every single night for a week now." You told him. "It's always been fine, it'll be fine again."

"Now you're just trying to give me a heart attack." Steve deadpanned, earning your laugh once again.

"So I'm a good enough fighter to be an Avenger, but not good enough to walk to my parents house by myself?" You asked.

"Yes, exactly!" Steve enthused. "So glad we could have this conversation to clear that up, come one let's get you home."

His arm linked around yours and he started walking. "I think you're absolutely out of your mind, but I appreciate you nonetheless."

Looking up at his face just in time, you caught his smile. "The second half of that statement is really the only part that matters to me."

Your steps synched up with his, and Rocket walked ahead of the two of you. "Hey, Stevie?"

"Hmm?"

"If you actually want to get me home, we should be walking in the complete opposite direction" You grinned.

Steve stopped and laughed. "Okay, you lead the way."

You did eventually make it home, and only when you stood on the door step did Steve let your arms disconnect.

"Look we made it here and nobody died!" You enthused. "Do you remember how to get back?"

"Of course I do" Steve giggled at your question. "It wasn't even two full blocks."

"Just making sure" you raised your hands in defense. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

"I would if I could." His thankful grin showed off the shallow dimples in his cheeks. "See you soon?"

"In a few days" you nodded in confirmation.

He stuck his arms out for one last hug, and you accepted happily. After he let go of you, he bent down to say bye to Rocket.

"Drive save! Text me when you get home." You told him.

Steve's face scrunched up for a second, causing you to look at him in confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"You blocked my phone number" He reminded you with a loud whisper.

"I'll unblock it, but text me when you get home" You giggled.

"Okay great!" Steve smiled big and did a little happy dance. "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, love you!"

"Love you more!" He waved as he walked down the driveway.

Next Part: Twinkles

Taglist: @sarangheay @firephotogrl74 @selella @talesofadragon @ss28 @nekoannie-chan @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @spikeluv84 @crazyunsexycool @callmissrogers @xxxalicerogersxx @whore-for-chris-evans @em8rin @mulbsstuff @qalijahbydior @awkotaco24 @buckybarnessimpp @nicoline1998enilocin @buckystevelove @rogersbarber @mybuck @dbnightingale24 @ynstark @sincerelytlh @alexakeyloveloki @mrsevans90 @smhnxdiii @claralovescaptainamerica @hisredheadedgoddess28 @bigtreefest

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airbendertendou · 1 year

Text

lonely heart ♡ danny johnson

soulmate au where the first time you have skin to skin contact, your body glows & is stamped w their handprint - it looks like a birthmark.

cw ; typical dbd warnings [blood n gore] ; reader offers ghostie a nude pic in exchange for freedom ; might b ooc but idc <3 ; how danny looks is up to you!

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

——♡——

The heat of the campfire brushes against your face, warming your skin just enough to forget the biting wind. Nancy is beside you, falling asleep where she sits, nodding her head forward before she snaps out of it. Across the fire, Feng is chatting idly with Dwight and Steve, Leon chiming in when he felt like it.

The bench-like-log you’re sitting on shifts as Nea takes a seat, letting out a huff as she settles. “It’s been quiet recently,” she says, “too quiet if you ask me.”

“I’m a little wary,” you agree. Your eyes scope the woods surrounding the survivors as if someone is going to pop out any second. They wouldn’t, though — the killers kept away from the light of the fire and never wandered any closer than they were allowed. “I wonder if something’s happened.”

Nea rolls her eyes, “we wouldn’t be so lucky.”

You grin at her pessimism, shoving her lightly with your left shoulder. Nea snickers as Nancy jumps awake once more, jolting in her sleep before yawning. A faded, gray fog settles over the camp and with it, five more survivors make their way around the campfire. You know what that means — a new trial is bound to start at any second.

Readying yourself, your muscles tense and your heart rate picks up, preparing to sprint when the time comes. A darkened, indigo-tinted fog wraps around you — it’s cold and loud as it grasps you from the campfire. You blink and then you’re in Haddonfield.

Taking in a deep breath, you shuffle quickly to the nearest generator. Feng smiles as she passes by you stealthily, clicking her flashlight at you a few times. The area is terrifyingly quiet — it must mean your killer this round is a watcher. You puff up your cheeks as you mis-wire something, moving away from the generator that’s popped.

A scream echoes in the distance — it sounds too close, so you take off.

Momentarily, you hide in a dusty bedroom. You peek from the walls, not spotting anyone other than the back of Leon’s bulletproof vest. Another look from the room — another scream hits the air.

Finding another generator was easy enough, but trying to stay hidden was a little more difficult. Your fingers curl and tug on wires, the smell of oil and burning wires hitting you the more you twiddle with them. Claudette hovers beside you, checking to see if you need any healing. Deeming you healthy, she flops to the other side of the generator.

“It’s Ghostface,” she breathes. Looking over her shoulder warily, she gulps as she looks back to you. “Already got Feng and Dwight. Only one gen’s done ; I’ve been hooked.”

You pause your wiring, confusion building up in you. “I haven’t even seen him yet.”

Claudette pauses too, looking over you with a furrowed eyebrow. “If we don’t make it, then win for us. Yeah?”

The generator pops with completion, lighting up for a second and exposing your location. You take off in the opposite direction Claudette did, hopping through a window and out through the backdoor. A flash of black catches your eye — your killer has finally shown himself.

You decide to buy everyone else some time. Hopefully, with a little distraction, a few more generator’s could be fixed.

Sneaking behind him, you let out a small “psst!” and wait for his attention to fall on you. He whips around, white mask greeting you. Walking towards a closet, you point to it a few times. Ghostface looks from the closet, to you, and back again. You wiggle your hand, insisting, “someone’s in there!”

Curiously, the closet door creaks open and Ghostface sees it’s empty. He turns to face you slowly and you’re already holding back giggles. A chase is pursued — something you struggle to do with all of your laughter. He swings his knife haphazardly, not really aiming at you, but not allowing you to get away with your joke either.

“Heheh—ah!” After a successful swing, a cut slashes across your arm. Blood seeps from it as you fall to the ground, laughter still spilling from your lips as you roll around. Ghostface shakes his head down at you — as if he’s disappointed in your joke — before he saunters off to find his next victim. You frown as your laughter comes to a stop, “well, now what?”

Another generator pops and you think this is it. We’re so close to going home — well, what you call home now. Letting out a sigh, you sit up and wrap your new cut with a bandage. You hear a squeal, then a scream. Seems our Ghostie is agitated now ; ready to get the trial over with.

Chills flow up your spine, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead as the feeling of being watched overpowers you. That can’t be good. You stiffen, looking through the corner of your eyes without turning your head. Hopefully, you’ll see him with your peripheral vision if he’s near. Otherwise— you didn’t want to think of the other option.

Sneakily, you tip-toe into a nearby house, hoping to wait out the feeling. But, you know you won’t. One thing about Ghostface is once his eyes are set on you, you’re not escaping. A noise catches your attention in the silence — the sound of a latch unlocking.

The hatch — you must be the only one left.

Your breath catches in your throat as you creep along the street, keeping an eye out for the hatch. You see it — it’s right in your sights and your heart rate picks up. Shaky breaths escape your parted lips as you glance around the empty street. Coast is clear — time to make a run for it.

Until a white mask phases in out of nowhere, directly on the other side of the hatch.

“Oh, come on,” you whine. Ghostface tilts his head at you, waving his knife teasingly. Your arm stings with the shine of it, bandage now being colored a deep red. “I’m so close to ending this!” He continues to stare your way silently. “Don’t you think this is a little unfair?”

“That’s the game, doll.” You’ve never heard him speak before now. A static-y, modulated voice isn’t what you expect to hear. He creeps closer, no longer directly across from you. “That’s what makes this fun.”

You purse your lips, fingers knotting together at the edge of your edge. “Okay, how about this? You let me take hatch, and I’ll let you take a shirtless picture of me. My face isn’t allowed to be in it, though!”

Ghostface bounced where he stood, an excited giggle echoing in his mask as he immediately agreed. Puffing up your cheeks, you let out a breath before nodding to yourself in encouragement. A polaroid camera has replaced the blood-soaked knife in his hand — even with the weapon gone from sight, dread flushes through you.

“Okay,” you say to yourself, “this is no big deal.”

Without another thought, your fingers clench the end of your shirt and raise it to cover your face. Your skin prickles with the wind, goosebumps raising at the new sensation. With bated breath, you wait to hear the shutter go off — a click, another giggle, the hatch closing ; anything. All that’s there is silence.

And then a leather glove is wrapped around your wrist.

Jumping at the sudden touch, your shirt falls back into place as you take a step back. Only a sliver of skin is free from the glove — just enough for his skin to brush against yours.

A golden sheen takes over you, settling where your bodies meet. In a panic induced state, you’re pushed to the ground as Ghostface hovers over top of you. Shaky, shallow breaths hit his mask as his camera is settled to the right of your head. Slowly, he peels a glove off and reaches for you.

Where his now bare hand meets, a light follows. Right on your wrist, the shape of his fingers is imprinted forever, as if it were a birthmark you were born with. It was supposed to be a myth — a tale shared between hopeless romantic’s. Soulmates weren’t supposed to actually exist.

Except, yours apparently did. In a realm you couldn’t escape ; killing you and your fellow survivors on a continuous loop. You were stuck there — stuck with a murderer as your soulmate until forevermore.

Ruffled hair is exposed to the wind as Ghostface unmasks himself, his pupils practically hearts as he stares down at you. His eyes search your face, never settling on one particular spot as he drinks you in entirely. You feel as he lets out a breath ; feel his shoulders sag with some kind of relief as he grabs one of your hands. He leads it to his face and lets out another sigh when his skin glows, the shape of your hand left on the left side of his face.

“Mine,” his voice is soft. You can’t stop looking at him — can’t stop staring at your hand that’s been imprinted onto his cheek. “You’re all mine. Made just for me.”

You can’t tell if the feeling swelling inside of you is dread or excitement. But, you let him pull you closer anyways ; allow him to hug you as he pleases. This could come in handy, after all. Maybe.

——♡—— lets ignore that valentines day is over already teehee <3 i hope my version of ghostie is okay, idk how well i write him </3 airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

#danny johnson x reader #danny johnson imagines #jed olsen x reader #jed olsen imagines #danny johnson ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #ghostface imagine #dbd imagine #dbd x reader #dbd ghostface #dead by daylight imagines #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine #dead by daylight ghostface #💝 : soulmate au’s

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vktrsnclr · 11 months

Text

TEACHER'S PET (R18+)

MINORS GTFO

pairing: miguel o'hara x f reader

summary: you're a college freshman in biochemistry and miguel is your professor in biochemical engineering, a major subject that you're about to fail.

warning: I'm a feminist and I'm concerned.

word count: 1.9k+

contents: humiliation, degradation, age gap, height difference, fingering, oral sex, p in v, hair pulling, public groping.

MASTERLIST

It's your first year in college studying biochemistry, the exam results for the first semester's finals are supposed to be distributed today.

Your professor in biochemical engineering, Mr. O'hara discusses the grading system for the second semester but you're losing out of focus. You're staring at his thick voluptuous thighs, thick veiny hands and imagined how he would choke you with it.

You took a gulp at the thought of it. He then started the distribution of the report cards. Your stare followed him as he sat on the table, individually calling out your names and distributing the cards.

"Parker, good job. Reyes, do better next time. Stacy, impressive. Stark..... dios mio." His voice was hoarse. The way he says your last name followed by a spanish term you don't understand sounded like a moan but truly, a term of disappointment.

"Ms. Stark... Are you seriously daydreaming right now?" He asks with a stern voice.

"Oh um, no sir. W-What is it?" Your classmates tried to hold their laugh, you can hear them giggling.

"Get your ass over here." He orders. You stood and walked up to him, hands behind your back, signing 'fuck you' to all of your classmates.

"What are we gonna do with this?" He points at your grade in bio-engineering which is his subject and a major too. You looked at it by bending your torso down, slightly bowing cause you have an eyesight of a dying man. Your cleavage flashes in front of him unintentionally. He tries to look away and focus your report card.

"2.0 (C/73-76%). This is bad." Everyone in your school knows that you're a daughter of a billionaire genius and this is what you got.

Deep inside, you know that the reason you failed is because you've been partying too hard. Just like your father, you're a party animal.

"What can I do?" You asked worriedly.

"Meet me at my office at 6. Class dismissed." He stood up, towering over you at 6'9 ft. He walked out of the room with your classmates.

Your friend, Gwen Stacy clinged on your arm on the way to the cafeteria. You sat with her and his boyfriend, Peter Parker. You can't really understand what they're saying cause your mind is split between your daddy getting disappointed and your disappointed professor being such a daddy.

Four hours later, it's time to go home but you still have to go to Mr. O'Hara regarding your first semester results. You walked into an empty faculty, the other teachers already went home. You walked by Miguel's office window and saw him looking at his watch with what seems to be an irritated brow. You proceeded to walk inside his office, it's smells good and is neatly organized.

"Good evening Mr. Ohara."

"Miss Stark. You're 10 minutes late. Seems like you're not being very committed to your studies." He clenched his jaw and his pair of brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry I was j-"

"Was just expecting 'daddy' to fix it with his money?" He stood up and mocks, pertaining to your father offering a grant to your school.

"No... sir, I just ran into my friends." You opposed, looking down at the floor.

"Are they gone?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Sit down." He sighs.

In a heartbeat, you sat down in a reclining chair right next to the table. He walks up to you, taking his crotch inches away from your face.

"Good girl." He takes your chin to look up at him. The view made your heart race and your cunt twitch.

"You think I'm not aware of your lustful eyes, hermosa?" He looks directly into your eyes with his hands still on your chin. Your eyes gawks and your face slowly turns red, not knowing what to say.

"Mr- Sir, I uh, I'm here for extra credits." You stuttered.

"Uh huh, what else?" He leans down, not breaking an eye contact.

"Uhhh... um m-my dad can pay you!" You blurted out of nowhere. You didn't know what to say since your mind is occupated by dirty thoughts but now you just seemed like a brat.

"Daddy's money hmm?"

"I'm your daddy here." He whispered roughly onto your ear, his hands shifted from your chin into your neck, gently gripping under your jaws.

"Daddy?" You spoke weakly.

"That's right, bitch." He replied with smirk.

You kind of expected this as a cliché porn category but you had no idea that you're gonna experience this in real life.

"You want credits? You little slut?" He cups the side of your cheeks and leans back to watch your face near his pants again.

"Yes! Yes, I want it." You nodded in agreement.

"Then earn it." He grabs a fistful of your hair and rubs it softly in his black pants with a huge bulge on it. You can smell his essence leaking from the fabric. This is all you ever dreamed of since the first day of school, you didn't think it would happen but it DID. All of your fantasies, clothed in black, sliding across your face.

You unbuttoned his pants in a hurry, dropping his undergarments down then finally busting his dick in front of you.

"Good girl." He slapped your face and you loved it. You proceeded to wet your lips to seduce him. He gripped on your hair tighter as you lick the tip of his 8-inch fat cock.

"Fuck." He groans, his voice deep and hoarse. You licked his length, wetting it together with his pre-cum leaking from the tip then swirled your tongue in its head while jerking him off.

"Holy shit you're good." The corner of his lip curling upwards.

He started throat fucking you, his head thrown back, moaning in pleasure. His cock reached your throat but you continued to take it until your eyes water. Miguel likes the way you look, internally choked by his massive cock.

He drags you up and makes you open your mouth as you spread your tongue that still has his pre-cum.

"Swallow." He ordered and you followed. You showed him an empty tongue to prove it.

"I'm gonna fucking destroy you." He places his hand on your chin to squeeze your face and starts kissing you roughly, like you've taken something from him. This is exactly how you want it. It's wet, sloppy and aggressive.

His kisses trailed down on your neck, you let him take off your clothes, even tear it up. He threw your designer clothes in the air like it was nothing. You would let this man do anything to you.

He began to roam his hands all over your body, from pumping your breasts down to your vagina, already dripping. He circles his middle finger on your clit sensually.

"You want this?" Miguel asks between the kisses.

"Uh huh." Your mouth can't form a proper word but a moan. He slaps you again, wanting you to say it clearly.

"You want this, you whore?!" He dips his hand on your hole, teasing you.

"Yes daddy, do it!" A high pitch pornographic whine came out of your mouth.

He then crooks his head onto your neck, leaving marks as he rams his finger up in your hole, sounds of wet squelching, moans and ass slaps filled the corners of his office. He reaches for the back of your clit inside your tight cunt and it drove you crazy. Your eyes roll at the back of your head. Unlike your other sexual partners, Miguel knows all about human anatomy.

"I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you." He takes your hands from his cock to your back, pulls his belt out of his pants and then ties your wrists.

"Yes please, I've been dreaming of this." You replied while he bends you over on the desk.

"Oh I bet you do you fucking slut." Miguel teases the tip of his cock on your clit, both wet from foreplay.

"Please fuck... fuck me."

Without any reply, Miguel rams his long and fat dick inside you, filling your walls with euphoria.

You groaned in pain after he put his full length in.

"Daddy it hurts."

"Nah, you can take it cariño." He reassures then pins your head on the desk while thrusting deep on your leaking hole.

"You... You've been spending a lot of time with that Parker boy huh? You like him?" He asks curiously, grabbing your hair.

"No, please he's with Gwen." You explained.

"You guys fuckin? Huh?" He ignores your answer while pounding at your pussy, making you scream in pain and pleasure.

"No daddy, Pleaaase.... I only want you. I want youuu." He grabs your tits from the back, holding it for support as his pace goes slower, making it comfortable for you.

"That's my girl. Now I'm gonna make you mine." His last words before sucking the skin off of your neck, leaving love marks that is visible to everyone.

"Ironman's daughter, pumping on my dick with her drenched punani. What's he gonna do? Save you?" He laughs devilishly. At this point you didn't care about your reputation. Your body wants him, even your cunt pulses everytime you peak behind your back to see him using you.

"You're my daddy, please fuckin destroy me." You surrendered. Miguel removes his belt on your wrists and puts it back as he pins it over your head in missionary position. Now, he can see your face while he fucks you, your lips smeared in red lipstick, smiling psychotically. Becoming undone by the stroke of his dick, his hands playing with your nipples and the other holding your wrists.

Your smile made him excited. His thrusts go faster and faster as you scream his name. "Mr. O'hara I'm cumming." You whined. It made him chuckle, you using honorifics despite your pussy currently being destroyed. He bit his lips, carried you by the hips, using you as his fucktoy. He pumps his dick in your tight little hole in a doggy position. Your feet doesn't even touch the floor because of your height difference. You simply just hang in the air with your pussy continously getting pounded.

"Shit shit shit I'm cumming." He whimpers.

"Cum inside daddy." It's the first time you had sex without protection and now you want him to cum inside you.

"That's right, princesa."

He continued plunging his sword into your uterus ramming even harder, seconds later, he busts his load. Your pussy's leaking with his thick cum all the way to your thighs. He lets go of your hips and places you on the table, back arched, pussy flowing.

He puts your panties back without cleaning your pussy, only the sides and the extra cum dripped on your legs and thighs.

"You did great, mija" He kisses your forehead.

"I did?"

"Yes you did." He smiles softly, saying it like he's a proud mentor.

After that encounter, he kept you as his pet, your friends noticed the hickeys on your neck every now and then and your alibi is always getting burnt by the hair curler. Flash Thompson even joked that the hair curler you're talking about is Mr. O'Hara.

Even if you denied it and threatened him with a lawsuit, It's obvious. Your lustful stares in the classroom, the special treatment you get in class above all the other students.

At times when the corridor is empty, he would grope your ass, spank it and squeeze it until you reach the classroom, walking in together at the same time. Your friends would always ignore the same smell coming out of you and Mr. O'hara. Fucking in every empty room, any chance that you get. You've certainly become the teacher's pet.

#miguel x reader #professor miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #spider man smut #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac #marvel #marvel smut #degrading k1nk #mcu smut #oscar issac imagine #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara #Spotify

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megamindsecretlair · 2 months

Note

Could you do a one shot with mob boss Tyrone?

A/N: My sweet Anon, you asked for one and I present to you seven. Why am I like this?

Blackbird, Part 1: Lust

Pairing: Mob Boss!Fontaine x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, fluff, angst, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word and non-inclusive language. Minor OC backstory.

Summary: You are a dancer trying to make it in a world not built for your body type. Fontaine is a gangster trying to rise through the ranks of a prominent gang. Will love truly conquer all?

Word Count: 10,810k

Interested in a Blackbird playlist? I'm not the greatest at curating songs but these remind me of these two. I may add or remove songs at my discretion.

A/N: Listen, I know. I couldn't get this idea out of my head and just kept writing. I'm trying something new here, so any feedback is welcome! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @babybratzmaraj @iv0rysoap @misskiki90 @harmshake @sageispunk @ciaqui @ms-angiealsina @satoruya @hopefulromantic1 @itsbackwoodsbby

Moodboard by the sweestes person ever, planetblaque 🥹🥹🥹

You looked at your watch on your delicate wrist. Night chased the afternoon out of the sky, taking over in their delicate push and pull. Night was safer for confessions. For reflection.

The sun’s rays slanted through the blinds and you blinked against the bitter light. “My apologies, would you like me to close them?” Your lawyer, Mr. Gates, asked you.

“Please,” you said. You sighed and adjusted your neat teal dress across your knees. There was nothing to fix, but you supposed you were nervous. After all these years, you thought that you would carry these secrets to the grave. Everything was different now.

Mr. Gates moved to the window and shut the blinds more fully, draping you in the safe comfort of his office. Mr. Gates had been part of the family for years now, a profession he took seriously. It was refreshing to speak to someone who couldn’t be bought. Who would never fold, not even under threat of death.

The office had been cleared especially for you, per your request. People liked to gossip. Busybodies, your grandmother called them. The only sound was the low hum of the AC blowing cool air into the room and Mr. Gates shuffling around.

He finally sat down at his desk, the chair creaking under his weight. He pulled out a small recorder and showed it to you, the exact model you requested. You dipped your chin in acknowledgement. He took out a notebook, new and clean of any writing. You hoped he had enough pens.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

You adjusted your dress once more, running your hands along the fine, silken material. You licked your lips and looked back up at him. “I don’t wanna die without marking the occasion first,” you said with a clipped smile.

Each day it drew closer to the date, you got used to the idea of dying. You had a good run. It could have been better. But you weren’t one to be greedy.

Mr. Gates smiled softly, perhaps a little sad. It was nice to know someone would miss you. There would be one person on this earth who’d care if you were gone. That was something.

Mr. Gates wrote down something on his notepad and pressed a button on the recorder. He cleared his throat and introduced himself, the date, and the time. He asked you to state your name for the record.

“...of sound mind and body do declare this to be read as my last will and testament.”

“Goddammit!” You yelled. Your fists thumped against the rough wood of the door as it finished slamming into your face. The asshole on the other side was just as faceless as the long stream of dance companies that tossed you out on your ass. There were plenty more, sure, but this one had been reputable. Fair.

They took one look at your raggedy dance clothes, worn from too many times around the washer. At your hair, styled high above your head in braids they didn’t understand but were obsessed with. You didn’t have the time or the money to go to a salon. Just once, you’d like someone else to bother with your thick hair and its maintenance. You couldn’t be bothered.

You’d shave it all off but you didn’t want to deal with the mean and hurtful comments about you looking like a boy. Your knuckles were just getting over being bruised and tender from the last mu’fucka that tried to talk out the side of their neck.

“Asshole!” You screamed. It was open auditions. Open. Auditions. That meant that anyone could come in and try their hand. You had killed the routine. You only needed to watch something once to get it down. To feel it move through your body like a live wire and your muscles respond. To mimic it to near perfection and add your spin on it. Nothing fancy, just an extra oomph that these companies seemed to lack.

You had waited to the side with the other girls, all wispy, wafer thin girls who took one look at your curves and deemed you less than. A joke. That you couldn’t possibly move your body like they could.

One had the audacity to allude to that, calling it doing you a favor. Next thing you knew, your fist was flying and she was crying foul, blood running down her aristocratic nose. You just gave her a little more character, honest.

You cursed under your breath and moved away from the building. To hell with them. You shifted your dance bag over your shoulder and walked backwards. The marquee above the door announced an upcoming performance. Below it, there was the name of the headliner, Gabriella Greywood.

One day, and one day soon, your name would be up there. In bright lights. And no amount of racist, fatphobic fucks were going to stop you.

You turned and headed down the street, running head first into a person, solidly built by the feel of them.

“My bad, sweetheart,” a deep, rumbling voice greeted you.

Your mouth was already fixing to give him hell for not watching where he was going and that you were nobody’s “sweetheart”. The words dried on your tongue as you looked up into a deep set of brown eyes that crinkled a bit in the corner when he smiled.

He had a low fade and short beard, shaved close to his strong jaw. Pretty, long eyelashes that fanned across his cheeks whenever he blinked. He smirked, checking you out while you ogled him.

“S’okay,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. He took in your tights and oversized gray sweatshirt.

“You heading inside?” He asked.

“Away from it. Those fucks wouldn’t know talent if it bit them in the ass,” you said.

The man chuckled and nodded, like he liked your honesty. Your words. “Fuck ‘em,” he said, gifting you with another smirk. You wondered what he’d look like when he really smiled. When he let it take up his whole face.

Too bad you didn’t have time for men. You may be behind most of your friends in that department. Their heads were full of getting married and popping out babies while they were still young. Like they were checking off boxes handed down to them through the generations. Grow up, learn just enough, get married, pop out babies, and then your real life starts once they are grown up with babies of their own. Fuuuck that.

“Where you headed then?” He asked. A noise to his left made you look up and see an entire other man standing next to him. He was a bit taller, broader around the shoulders, with a narrow face and a mischievous look in his eye.

“Home, I guess. Until I find the next studio giving out auditions,” you said. Your attention was solely fixated on the man in front of you. His friend grinned and moved away, lighting up a joint. He put a foot on top of a fire hydrant and pretended to ignore you both.

“Let me give you a ride,” he said. You couldn’t stop staring at his face. He was magnetic. Like he commanded attention whether you wanted to give it or not.

You giggled, stomach doing tiny flips. “I don’t know you,” you said, giving him a hint of the attitude you’re famous for. None of this, giggly, braid around your finger nonsense.

“Get to know me. Let me take you to Scarlet Lounge,” he said. His voice was smooth. Too smooth.

You crossed your arms and tilted your head. “That’s a gangster bar,” you said.

“What you got against gangstas?” He asked.

“They’re mean, amoral, kill for no reason, run drugs, and turn out little girls. They’re nothing but bad news,” you said.

“Damn, amoral. That’s a big one,” he said. He chuckled and licked his lips, calling attention to his mouth once more. Your body heated instantly, wanting to know what they taste like. What they feel like on your skin. What his hands would feel like on your skin.

“Not all gangstas are the same. Maybe some just wanna get over in a life hellbent on kicking them in the teeth,” he said. He put his hands in his pockets and you finally noticed what he was wearing. Simple jeans and a black hoodie, faded from too many washes like your clothes. You felt a sudden kinship with him, an understanding passed between you in being in similar situations. Just two mu’fuckas trying to make it.

“Are you saying you’re a gangsta?” You asked.

“If I say yes, you gon’ hold it against me?” Oh, he was dangerous. Absolutely dangerous.

You had gone on entire tirades about the level of crime in LA. It was insidious. The dangerous, hopeless underbelly that all kids from the hood grew up with was like a giant dome that prevented anyone from truly getting out. Truly making something of yourself. You either joined a gang, married into a gang, or rode the struggle bus ‘till God called you home.

You could leave. You could find some area where the people would treat you like a freak or like you didn’t belong but you would be safe. None of them would look like you. Or understand you. Change had to start in the hood. There had to be hope some-fucking-where.

“Probably,” you said.

He smirked and shook his head. “Cold game. What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asked.

You should walk away. There was no way you could entertain someone like him. No way. Your feet felt rooted to the spot, unwilling to walk away from him or this moment. The more you looked at him, the more you felt connected to him. That each minute you spent in his presence, you felt tiny stitches being woven in between you.

“I’ll tell you what gangsta boy. We bump into each other again and I’ll tell you my name,” you said. You turned on the balls of your feet, walking backwards away from him.

“You gon’ do me like that? Forreal?” He asked. The corner of his gorgeous mouth lifted higher. It was almost worth staying to see if you could get a real smile out of him.

“Byeee,” you sang. You giggled, heading towards the train station. You turned around and gave your hips a little extra swish.

“I’m Fontaine!” He called after you. It took all of your strength not to turn back around. You waved your fingers high in the air but kept walking. You didn’t really think you’d bump into him again. You couldn’t afford the distraction even if you did. You’d head back home to your shitty apartment that you shared with your best friend and regroup.

You needed to keep your eyes on the prize. You had a future to secure. And it did not involve pretty corner boys who talked smooth.

You finished doing your makeup in the vanity, touching up the bright red lipstick one more time and checked over your outfit. Muted music and cheers reached you into the backroom, from the set before yours.

Other dancers were touching up their outfits as well, skimpy little things that barely qualified as a costume. The leotards were black with thin stripes, sparkly silver edges that dug into your groin and under your arms. The designer, an evil little bitch with too much hair and a permanent sour expression, thought she was so damn important. Half the time, it was clear that she thought she was too good to design clothes en masse for a dance club.

You wore fishnet stockings like the others, black leather heeled boots, and a tiny black hat in your hair. You had sparkly glitter dusted across your cheeks so that your eyes would pop. Not that anyone would see you. You were relegated to the back in every single fucking number.

Everyone here had the same dream as you. It just came down to who was hungrier. Who was going to stick it out. You had been dancing your whole life and you’d be damned to let some wide-eyed, bushy tail ho from Minnesota steal your dream. You’d put in the work, you’d put in your dues, and soon, you’d be headlining your own show. Working with top directors and choreographers. Maybe even get into dancing on TV.

“One minute!” One of the stagehands called into the room. Kimmy approached you and looked at you in the mirror.

“Another day?” She asked.

“Another dollar,” you said back.

You both grinned and stood up, heading out of the dressing room and into the chaos backstage. Stagehands moved in a dance all their own, carefully moving around each other with headsets squawking with directions you couldn’t hear. Coordinating the lights and music, curtains, and set decorations.

The previous music was coming to a close, ending on a loud roaring beat that you felt down to your toes. Adrenaline thumped through you. Despite whatever else you went through, this made sense. This was the time that your mind finally shut up. That your focus on your dreams drifted to the back and all you had to do was feel the music. The euphoria that came with losing all sense of identity while dancing.

You stood on the stairs on the left side of the stage, too far away to see the current set; you’d seen the performance so many times you had it memorized. The group before you had done a circus themed dance, full of contortionists, flips, and tumbles. The performers worked hard to make it look so seamless, you were in awe every time.

They were due to exit on the right, to not interrupt your group. Their song ended, the curtains closing and claps echoing throughout the club. You were shuffled on stage, getting into position in the far back. Haters. Whatever.

Stagehands used pulleys to change the scenery behind you, to an alleyway facade. There was a fake brick wall beside you getting rolled in. The announcer, the sleazeball Rusty, was on stage and getting everyone pumped up.

You looked at Kimmy and made a face and she giggled, waving you off. The music for your number started to play, a slow and sexy jam. You were supposed to be a lady mafia, punishing men in a cold dark alley.

Once the curtains were open and the spotlight hit you in the face, you were gone. There was only the part you played, filling in the background while the lead dazzled the audience. You told yourself not to care, but deep down you did. It was disheartening to know that in your heart of hearts, you were more talented. You were a better dancer. You just refused to suck Rusty’s dick to get to the top.

So you focused on the music, on the dance, and executed it flawlessly. You were in the back now, but you weren’t going to stay there. You didn’t see the audience, you didn’t see the idiots at the bar, and you didn’t see any of the VIPs in the back, scoping out the dancers to see which ones they wanted to bring to the private backrooms for a “dance”.

You didn’t play that shit. You were too spiteful, too hateful, too outspoken. And you’d continue to do so. You had to take a pay cut to not be involved with that shit. It was illegal and unfair, but it beat spreading your legs for dirty cops and gangstas.

As you danced, your mind was partially split between what you were doing and the man you met the other day. Fontaine. You couldn’t stop saying his name. It rolled so well off of the tongue. Fontaaaine.

You nearly missed a step and mentally slapped yourself. You focused on the dance, lots of gyrating and popping your hips. Lots of slow glides down to the floor and rolling your back. Invisible prop assistants threw you all fake uzis and you ended the dance facing away from the crowd. You jerked your hand to pretend like you were shooting a gun into the alleyway while a group of male dancers pretended to die.

The crowd cheered behind you but your mind was already beating yourself up. Already going over what you could have done better. It’d help if your performances were recorded but for the “privacy of its patrons”, Rusty wouldn’t let anyone record inside. Phones had to be off or silent and there were plenty of bouncers willing to break expensive phones to ensure everyone’s “safety”.

Among the last to leave the stage, you turned to walk back to the dressing room. It didn’t feel like thirty minutes went by. You were sweating buckets though. Fat little droplets soaking your leotard and dripping from your temples.

“Aye!” You turned to the sound. “Over here!”

You knew better than to follow some strange sound around backstage, but the voice sounded familiar. Like warm caramel. You looked towards the front, where a bouncer stood to ensure that no one slipped past the curtain.

“Over here!” You walked towards the darkened back, following the sound. There stood Fontaine, standing behind a storage door. He smirked when he saw you.

“What are you doing back here?” You rushed over to him, pushing him into the storage room. You looked for people behind you. This area was where dancers left so it was hardly used for anything else. There were old decorations here, forgotten sets that needed to be stripped and repainted.

Fontaine’s callused hands pulled you into the storage room. Somehow, he found the lone lamp that worked and the soft light filled the room. It was junky. Full of chairs, tables, tablecloths. The overflow supplies.

“You said if we bumped into each other again, you’d tell me your name,” he said.

“This isn’t bumping into each other,” you pointed out. Your hands were still around his arms and his hands had relocated your hips.

“Sheeit, this is better,” he said.

You shook your head. “What are you doing here, gangsta boy?” You asked.

“Tell me your name first,” he said. He cocked his head to the side, letting you get a glimpse of his dark eyes.

A deal was a deal, you guessed. You told him your name and he rolled it around his tongue like cotton candy. “I like that, suits you,” he said.

“Your turn,” you said.

“Scarlets run this place, you ain’t know?” He asked.

“You work for Porter Sommer?” You asked. Porter Sommer was a ruthless drug kingpin that ran all of South Central. There wasn’t shit that went down in the hood that he didn’t have a fat little finger in. You’d only seen him once and it was enough to turn your stomach. He had dead eyes like a shark.

“He ain’t all that, I swear,” Fontaine said, shaking his head. “He the only nigga that give back ‘round here.”

“Give back? He got kids doing drugs in the parking lot before their parents pick them up. He shake niggas down for every last nickel they got,” you said.

“That ain’t us. That’s that bitch Shayne,” Fontaine said. He shook his head. “I ain’t come here for all that. I saw you on stage and I had to tell you that you were amazing.”

Now that you knew who he worked for, you weren’t sure if you wanted to continue dealing with him. You hadn’t given much thought to which side of the street he fell on. The Crips and the Bloods thought they were the top bosses in LA, aggressively defending square blocks they didn't own.

Porter Sommer and Shayne Blandford were the real OGs. They actually bought up the houses and stores on the blocks, doing their hardest to outbid each other at every opportunity. They both preyed on the weak and didn’t care who got caught in their crossfires.

Fontaine looked at you with such admiration though. Like he saw you. Like you weren’t just another dancer on stage. That he saw you with the same lights shining on you that you pictured in your head.

You stepped away from him to try to get some clarity. Obviously, touching him and getting that close to him was addling your brain. You were seriously thinking about entertaining a bad boy. One of the worst.

“What do you do for Porter then?” You asked. You crossed your arms.

Fontaine sighed and leaned back against an old desk. It wobbled under his weight and he looked down at it but then turned his attention back to you. “Do it matter? You gon’ judge me for it anyway,” he said.

“I’m not judging that you’re a corner boy. I’m judging that you work for Porter. That man is…scary,” you said.

“He a’ight,” Fontaine said with a shrug. “And I ain’t no corner boy no mo. Ya boy moved up and shit,” he said. He smirked and you could see him puffing his chest out. You giggled. He looked so proud of that fact.

You wanted to keep up your defenses against him. You wanted to walk out of the room and tell him to get lost. You could not get your head turned out by a gangsta. You didn’t have the heart for that kind of life. Why did you have to meet someone like him and he was bad news?

“Moved up how?” You asked.

“Protection services,” he said and waggled his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes playfully and couldn’t fight the grin that ran across your face. Whether he was outside or in this dingy ass room, he carried the same level of magnetism. Charisma.

“I cannot with you,” you said.

Fontaine stood up and slowly walked over to you. He had a mean ass lean to it that caused your stomach to flip in response. He was the total package, both in looks and wit. But, but, but.

He stood before you and clasped his hands behind his back. “I feel something. And I know you feel something too. I’d like to get to know you, sweetheart. Let me change your mind about gangstas,” he said.

“I don’t pay attention to words, gangsta boy. Your world is dangerous,” you said.

“You watch too many movies. Real gangstas talk and shit,” he said. He smirked and swayed from side to side. He was hypnotic. You swayed with him like he casted a spell on your body. Each word he spoke wove magic through your veins.

“Oh, really? Bunch of backroom deals and offers people can’t refuse?” You asked. You began to back towards the door. The only way to survive Fontaine was to escape. To remove yourself from the situation. With his voice and the way he spun words, he’d be liable to talk you right off of the City Hall building.

“Let me find out you like gangsta movies and you just giving me a hard time,” he said. He looked at you and slowly began to approach you. You had nowhere left to go. Your back was against the door.

“Maybe I just like giving you a hard time,” you said. You moved your hand behind you until your hand touched the cool metal of the doorknob. Fontaine’s mouth twitched but it wasn’t a smile. Dammit, you wanted to see him smile.

His minty breath fanned across your face as he leaned closer. You bit your lip. “I’on know if you heard me, but I’m in the protection game now. You don’t have to worry about anything ever again, I’m gon’ give you the world,” he said.

You smiled, letting his words fill up your head like fresh, doughy clouds after a storm. Plenty of people talked a good game. There was a long line of disappointing men who talked and talked but never backed it up. Starting with your daddy. Fontaine’s voice had the deep rumble of conviction behind it. He meant every single word. And you had no doubt that he could back it up.

But, but, but.

“I can’t be bought, Fontaine. I never asked for the world,” you said.

“I know. I’m gon’ give it to you anyway. With a matching moon,” he said.

You dropped your eyes from his intense gaze. The light didn’t quite reach this far, so you two practically stood in shadow. He blended into the shadow. Welcomed it. Like he lived and breathed in it.

“I’m a man of action. And I’ll prove it.” He dropped his head and kissed you. Electricity zapped your lips. His kiss was languid. Slow. Tongue already working its way inside your mouth like it owned it. Your hands came around his neck to pull him closer.

The kiss was intense, disconcerting. He knew exactly what to do too, alternating kisses and little nibbles. Your wet lips smacked against his and your pussy throbbed. He pushed you into the door, hands gripping onto your hips like he was holding on for dear life.

If he was magnetic before, it paled in comparison to touching him. Feeling him. You felt him everywhere. Each kiss sucked you further down into the shadows with him and you never wanted to taste the light again.

You paused here and took a deep breath. Mr. Gates cleared his throat and paused the recorder. “Do you want to skip this part?” He asked.

So kind. Mr. Gates was always so kind. He was a rare breed compared to all the men in your life. Especially when compared to Fontaine. However, Fontaine had no equal. There was no one who came close.

That first kiss ought to have been where you drew the line. You knew better than to sit in storage rooms with strange men and let them kiss you. Let them feel on your booty. Just remembering it, brought heat to your cheeks and to your core. You felt the ghost of Fontaine’s hands on your legs, on your hips. That playful smirk tickling your neck.

You shook your head. “I just need a minute. I-I need him to know that it was always real for me. That I went into it with both eyes open,” you said.

Mr. Gates nodded and got up, leaving his office for a moment. Your mind wandered, thinking back to those early days. From bumping into Fontaine to everything that followed after. Like the Hand of God tripped you over Fontaine’s feet so that you would meet. Would know. So that you would know each other and know what it was like to love with your entire body.

Moments later, you collected yourself. Mr. Gates seemed to know exactly when. He came back into the office without any prodding from you. You smiled at his kind, grandfatherly face. He had white hair sticking out the sides of his head. You bet he was a player when he was younger.

“Would you like to continue?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “Yes, where was I? Um…so, Fontaine did exactly that. He proved with more than his words that we had something songs got written about…”

Fontaine attended every performance every night you worked. You were still in the background and he looked at you as if the spotlight was on you. He didn’t help your ego at all.

After every night, he’d somehow sneak backstage with a single red rose to tell you that you were the best dancer up there. He stole kisses after each one too. At this point, you didn’t know why you were still resisting him. You weren’t some prude waiting for a man to drop to one knee; you didn’t believe in that shit.

There was something a little hot about making him sweat it out. Something a little erotic about heavy petting and making out and living in the moment spent with your lips colliding and tongues exploring. With his hands around your ass and your hand rubbing him over his jeans.

You hadn’t had many occasions to lust after someone. Sometimes guys made you crane your neck, but you had a single minded focus that saw you through your shitty childhood, through your awkward teenage years, through screaming matches, and slammed doors. You got what you needed from guys, the only things they were really good for, and you left them high and dry. You left them while spit flew from their mouths as they called you bitches, hos, and anything else their little brains could think of.

Funny how once you treated boys how they treated you, you were suddenly the devil incarnate.

But you lusted. Every dip of Fontaine’s hips made your body respond in kind. Like he had a direct line to your pussy and constantly tugged on it to drive you crazy. He knew the effect he had on you too.

He always made sure to blow you a kiss while you were on stage. When he smirked, he liked to look at you out of the corner of his eyes. He made sure to grab your ass while making out, squeezing them like trying to get juice from a lemon. Oh and when he got to rubbing his stubble along your neck, your eyes would roll back and he’d tell you to quit being so cute before he dicked you down.

Fontaine made you hot and bothered. In more ways than one. As much as you were interested in him, you still hated what he had to do to survive. You understood the game, but it didn’t mean you had to love it.

When you weren’t on stage and you were taking your break, waiting for the next set, you would sneak out to the front of the house so that you could see the performances, see what worked and what didn’t. Sometimes you’d grab a drink and wait for Fontaine to sneak away to kiss you.

And sometimes you’d see him heading to the private rooms, escorting your fellow dancers and whichever powerful men wanted to use them for the night. Rusty was always there with a grin on his face and dollar signs in his eyes. It was disgusting.

Rusty never touched anyone but your best friend Kimmy. He took one look at her and fell ass over teakettle for your sweet friend who had a kid to look after. On top of paying her a little more, Rusty rented an apartment for Kimmy and her kid. She didn’t think anything of the little bargain. One man was better than a revolving door.

Sometimes anger boiled in your veins at the mere thought. You wanted to burn this place to the ground. It was true that you chose to come here, night after night. However, dancing was the only thing that kept the anger at bay. Well, that wasn’t entirely true anymore.

As Fontaine walked around the tables on his way to you, you found unexpectedly that his presence tamed the wildness of your anger. It wasn’t completely gone. The slightest thing would set you off. Until you bubbled over like a volcanic eruption, burning everything and everyone in your path. You weren’t like that with Fontaine. You didn’t want to be like that with Fontaine. And all it took was a few dozen roses and sweet stolen kisses.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting. He was starting to grow his hair out. Since he moved to protection, he started dressing a little fancier. Dickies instead of jeans, plain T-shirts instead of whatever graphic tee caught his fancy.

Fontaine dressed all in black did things to your libido that wasn’t fit for mixed company. The short sleeved black tee seemed like he bought a size down on purpose, to emphasize his muscles.

“Hey you,” you said.

“Isaac was telling me about the Fair. We should go,” he said.

“The Fair? What we gonna do there?” You asked.

“I’on know. Fair shit,” he said, that damn smirk. You were going to get him to smile if it was going to be the last thing you did on this earth.

“You gon’ win me a teddy bear?” The question popped out before you could think about it and snatch it right back. You wished you could swallow the words, unring the bell, and ask him something different. Something that wasn’t a little too close to home. You always wanted someone to win you a teddy bear from one of those Fair games, carry it around for you.

But that shit was for other, softer girls and men who actually gave a damn. For TV movies and shows with people who didn’t look like you.

“I’m gon’ win the biggest one. So Friday night?” He asked.

“Friday night,” you agreed, little butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

“It’s a date sweetheart,” he said. He kissed your cheek and you watched his generous backside as he went back to the backrooms, making sure your friends were safe. As much as they could be.

When he approached the door, Issac came out of it looking self satisfied. The corner of your mouth lifted in a grimace. Isaac was attractive but something was throwing you off about him. Whether it was his vibe or the oily way he looked at everybody, Fontaine included, you made a mental note to get the full story behind them.

It was obvious that they were close and did next to everything together. Issac said something to Fontaine who shook his head but bumped fists with Isaac. It’d have to be none of your business for now.

Friday night rolled around and Fontaine was punctual in his champagne colored 90s Cadillac. You didn’t know much about cars, but you knew enough to appreciate the craftsmanship and that Fontaine lovingly took care of it.

It was shined to gleaming, silver chrome glinting from the streetlamps. Night was fast approaching and you had a long drive to Pomona, to the Fairgrounds. It was the first time in his car and you had to admit, you were a little nervous.

Fontaine got out of the car and you had to whistle at him. He wore black jeans, black boots, and a red flannel buttoned up. The top two buttons were out, giving you a peek of a black tank underneath. He wore his signature jacket, the same one he wore when you met. You had half a mind to say fuck the Fair and invite him inside.

“I know where yo nasty ass mind is at,” he said as he came around to the street to greet you with a kiss on your cheek. He handed you a single red rose.

“What you talkin’ ‘bout?” You asked.

“I know I look good,” he said. He smirked and stepped out, showing you his outfit. He dusted invisible lint from the front of his shirt and you laughed.

“You really do look good,” you said.

“But you look good enough to lick on,” he said. He bit his lip and eyed your outfit, a spaghetti strap dress with a modestly low neckline and blue and red ombre colors. It started out royal blue at the top until it began to lighten around the hips, turning into a jam red at the bottom.

“And you call me nasty,” you said. You tapped his shoulder and his cheeks puffed up. You half thought you were going to get a smile but he stopped himself at the last minute.

“Just telling the truth. Matter of fact, you look too damn good. I’on wanna spend the night catching bodies behind yo cute ass,” he said.

“Shut up!” You giggled. Fontaine said the cutest shit sometimes. Threatening murder behind you was not sexy, but when it dropped from his lips it was. It was a type of possession you didn’t think you craved, but you did. You wanted to belong to him in every sense of the word.

Fontaine escorted you into the street and opened the door for you. You slid inside his car, smoothing your dress over the leather seats. It smelled clean, like some type of mountain scent laced with the particular smell of weed. Fontaine closed the door and walked around the front, climbing in himself.

Low, thumping hip hop music was on in his car and you looked at him. This was different. He was different. And you only wanted to see where the night took you.

As Fontaine got onto the 10 freeway, he got comfortable and leaned back in his seat. The seat was further back still and you got the sense that it stayed a little too far back on purpose. He kept his left hand on the wheel and dropped his other hand to your knee.

You looked at it and it felt right. His hand was warm across your knee and you sunk into the seat, placing your hand over his. The corner of his mouth lifted as you began to speak and get to know each other beyond just his kisses.

“How long you think you gon’ be a gangsta?” You asked.

“Damn girl. Not even gon’ ask me what my favorite color is?” He asked. The red lights from the cars in front of you lit up his face and you found that red suited him well. The starkness of the color played across his features in a way that made him seem timeless.

“I already know what yo favorite color is,” you said.

“What?” He asked. He rubbed this thumb across your knee and you lost the ability to think for a minute.

Everybody Loves the Sunshine played on his stereo and you shook your thoughts loose finally. “It’s purple,” you said.

Fontaine chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, you been paying attention to a nigga, huh?” He asked.

“Whatever, Fontaine,” you said.

“Love it when you say my name. You draw it out and shit,” he said.

“I do not! Just answer my question!”

Fontaine was silent for a moment, weaving in and out of crazy LA traffic. Every year it got worse and worse. To the point that you almost didn’t want to leave the house most days. It was why you started taking the train more. It sucked, but it beat dealing with the mu’fuckas that continued to flock here chasing their paper dreams.

“I’on know how to do anything else. That 9-5 ain’t me,” he finally said, his voice smooth and low. “I need to know if that’s ever going to be a problem. If you can ever accept that this is the life I’m in.”

He slanted his eyes towards you. This was the most serious you’d ever seen him. And Fontaine was a pretty serious person more often than not. He got this look in his eyes, like he saw the world burning before him and didn’t want to bother grabbing a bucket of water to help. Like he liked it.

“I won’t promise to never speak on it. I’m…scared to lose you,” you said. You were surprised it was true. You made him sweat for a month, turning down his date ideas just to see what he would do. Testing him, you supposed. If he was in it for you or for what you had between your legs. Usually you could tell the difference with perfect accuracy.

When it came to Fontaine, nothing was certain. And you didn’t know if that scared you to the point of attraction, or turned you on to the point of fear.

Fontaine squeezed your knee. “You don’t gotta worry about that, sweetheart. It’s me and you,” he said.

Me and you. Those three little words planted themselves inside you, taking root and growing vines around your bones. Sprouting leaves in your lungs and stretched towards your brain, filling it with the oxygen you needed to breathe. Three little words. The wonder of it brought unexpected tears to your eyes.

You grinned at Fontaine. For the rest of the car ride, you got to know more about him. More about his little brother who was killed and why he joined the Scarlets. Why he took up a gun and was never putting it down again.

It made more sense in context. The circumstances were always fucked in the hood. And the tender heart you tried so hard to guard against all evil only broke more for Fontaine. He told you about how his mother retreated into herself. Only got herself together long enough to fake the funk at work and then disappeared into her room.

With mounting bills and not wanting to live off anyone, Fontaine did what any other Black male did in his situation. He grew up.

You told him about your toxic childhood. How your parents alternated between fighting and fucking. That when your dad was lost to the drink, he’d look at you like you were a stranger. And when he sobered up, he looked at you like you were a princess atop a castle. You never knew which side you were going to wake up to.

You told him about your mother and how she always seemed to be jealous of you. Like there was some aspect about how she raised you that she didn’t like. That it was your fault for taking her instruction to heart and not giving a fuck about what anyone said. You wanted something, you went after it.

There was no love in your house so you got out when you were 17 and never looked back. Fuck them. You didn’t want to stay in that house anyway.

Reaching the Fairgrounds, you and Fontaine turned to lighter subjects. How or why you got into dancing. Your favorite dancer was Debbie Allen. You wanted to be her so badly that you studied every move she ever made. That you went for ballet because that was where she started.

She was able to get into TV but that wasn’t really where you wanted to be. Maybe when you got older and your knees started to rebel. For right now, you just wanted to dance. To be free.

You held hands with Fontaine, talking and laughing while you pulled each other around the Fairgrounds. You’d only been once, when you were younger, and hadn’t bothered since then.

There were rides and the sizzling smells of meat that made your mouth water. Desserts, weird food combinations like a Krispy Kreme donut burger, and the sounds of children’s laughter. The ground was littered with wrappers, coupons, and papers.

Fontaine paid for your play cards, dropping a wad of money that made your eyes bug out. He kissed your cheek and told you to go nuts. Anything you wanted to do or try. There was no limit. You told him that he was crazy.

“The world and the moon to match, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips. You grinned and dragged him everywhere. On the ferris wheel, on the spinning ride, and on the zero gravity one until your stomach hurt so badly that you had to sit down. Your head spun painfully and Fontaine rubbed your hand while you giggled about it.

You went into the funhouse with its crazy mirrors. Fontaine only had one request, that you go on the haunted ride with him. You were determined to stay far away from it. You hated the feeling of being scared. He peppered your cheeks with kisses until you relented and got on with him.

You suspected that was his plan all along. To have you clutch onto him for dear life. He chuckled at your theatrics but didn’t make you feel bad.

“Come on, girl, I got you,” he said. He kissed your cheek and pulled you into the safe embrace of his arms. You giggled. You was gon’ have his babies if he kept doing cute shit like this.

After that ride, you settled on Pink’s for dinner. The smoke from the truck was whipped into the sky by a bitter breeze. You should have brought a jacket. You forgot how fucking cold it got at night out here.

Without saying a word, Fontaine made you wear his jacket. You attempted to tell him that it was okay, if nothing else yo mama ain’t raise no bitch, but he refused to take it back. “I’m hot anyway,” he said.

You grinned, looking up at him. He winked at you and ordered you food. You ate and laughed and talked about nothing in particular. Shit you found on TV. Movies you happened across. Books you’ve read. Music you listened to.

You yawned and leaned your head against him after another round of rides and dessert. A huge funnel cake topped with ice cream and chocolate drizzle. Fontaine had to help you finish it in the end.

“You gon’ have to roll me out of here after all this,” you said, licking your spoon for every wayward swipe of chocolate and smacking your lips with a loud pop. When Fontaine didn’t say anything, you turned towards him. His gaze was fixed on your mouth.

“Fontaine?” You asked.

He gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing you closer. He licked the corner of your mouth and you moaned, feeling his hot tongue on your cold face. He hummed in the back of his throat.

“Delicious,” he said.

He pulled back with a smirk, rubbed your chin, and pulled back. Your whole body heated. Cascading down your body in waves. You rubbed your thighs together, wetness starting to pool in your panties.

“We got a little more to spend before we dip. Let’s get you that teddy bear,” he said.

“I was just joking about that,” you said. You gulped around the tension. So thick, it stuck in your throat.

“I wasn’t,” he said. He stood up from the bench and held out his hand. You took it, hand fitting his like a glove. He threw out the plate you finished up and tucked you into his side while he walked.

In the middle of the grounds, there was a row of carnival games like ring toss and popping balloons. There was also a basketball hoop. Fontaine made a beeline for it, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel. A staff member scanned the play card and loaded up the basketballs for Fontaine.

He tested the balls and soon, started sinking ball after ball. Your mouth dropped open. He could’ve been a basketball player with that lethal game! The staff member told you to pick out a small teddy bear. Fontaine stopped you.

“One game is a small teddy bear, but three mediums is a big one right?” Fontaine asked.

The staff member, some pimply kid, popped his gum and nodded. Fontaine loaded up more games, winning each and every one until you had three medium ones and exchanged it for a giant fuzzy teddy bear. It was so big! You squealed when the staff member handed it to Fontaine. He chuckled at your reaction.

You squeezed one of the arms and couldn’t help jumping up and down. You were happy to take the small teddy bear. But the fact that he kept going made your heart soar. “Worth it just to see your face,” he said. You kissed his cheek a hundred times and he finally smiled.

It felt like your world narrowed to that expression on his face. Watching his whole face light up and eyes crinkle. He had a wide smile that took up his whole face. His smile was infectious but you were too dumbstruck to smile back.

“Come on,” you said. You grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

“Where we going?” He asked.

“I wanna remember tonight. And you better smile!” He chuckled while you pulled him to the nearest photobooth. You probably should have done this before winning the bear, but fuck it. Tonight had been nothing short of perfect and you wanted to capture this moment the best way you could think of. Like those shows and movies did. With something real. Not just something captured on your phone.

You wanted it in your hands. You wanted to slide it into a binder so that you could look at it over and over while in class. Daydream about him in between lockers and free time. Glance at him from across the way on the courtyard. Dance with him at Homecoming. He made you feel young, like you were back in high school with your first crush. Fontaine was everything. Absolutely everything.

The teddy did fit, and you scooted in first. Fontaine chuckled and sat down next to you. He swiped the card and it began to give you instructions. Fontaine was serious the first go around, mean mugging the camera.

“Forreal this time!” You giggled.

Fontaine sighed and rubbed his head. “A’ight, a’ight,” he said. He loaded it up once more. He kissed you in the first picture. Then you did a few silly ones. He tickled you for one of them. On the last one, you couldn’t think of what to do next. So you just looked at him. He looked at you. The camera flashed and you saw it reflected in his beautiful eyes.

You continued staring at each other until the booth buzzed, wanting to know how many copies you wanted. You printed two and finally scooted out. Fontaine scooped up the two cards and you placed your head on his shoulder to look at them.

“Thank you, Fontaine. For everything,” you said. He just…he had no fucking clue what tonight meant to you.

“The world and the moon to match, sweetheart. You ain’t gotta thank me for this,” he said.

“Yes, I do. And I know just how to thank you,” you said. Your voice turned a little flirty and you lifted your head to look at him. He looked down at you and smirked.

“Is that right?” He asked, licking his lips.

“Yup. We better get back to my place before my roommate gets home,” you said.

Fontaine took your hand and tugged you towards the entrance. You giggled the entire way, feeling giddy and light in a way you hadn’t in a really long time. Fontaine gave you that. Gave you that freeing feeling back. You thought you’d lost it when you accepted that your parents didn’t know how to love you.

His Cadiallac sped down the open freeway, too late for the out of town mu’fuckas to fuck it up for everyone else. The windows were down and the wind rushed through the car with wild abandon. He drove safely, but fast towards your place, hand on your knee the whole way.

The tension was back with a vengeance. Like you were both standing on top of a cliff somewhere ready to dive off. Heat pooled along with your arousal between your thighs and you couldn’t stop clenching them.

Lust. Lust was a powerful thing. Detonating bombs in your core until you were practically drunk on them. Looking forward to them. Until there was only the dirty thoughts running through your mind and the feel of his callused hand on your knee.

Fontaine managed to find a spot on your street. You were on the wrong side of Stocker, where you had to get to the spot faster than your neighbor. Fontaine got out first and then opened the door for you. He even grabbed the teddy for you so he didn’t have to come back outside for it.

You pulled him into your crappy apartment that you shared with Kimmy. Considering Rusty was paying for it, it could have been worse. You still owed rent to him and had to clear out when he wanted to ditch his wife and come mess with Kimmy. She was out with her son and likely wouldn’t be back until sometime Sunday. You didn’t tell Fontaine this. You didn’t want him to think that you were plotting on him.

But you were. You weren’t sure if he was the type to stay after sex, or once he got off, he was already looking for his pants. You wouldn’t really bring him upstairs if it was the latter. You got the feeling that he was a little clingy under that hard facade.

You only turned on enough light to get across the living room and into your room. You turned on the lamp. Both of you were breathing heavily. Bodies preparing to experience an unparalleled pleasure.

Fontaine gripped your hips and you giggled, accepting the kiss he laid on you. The ones before had been tame. He had been holding himself back. These were wilder. Crazier. Lips smashing into yours with a desperate plea to get closer and stay closer.

He pushed his jacket off of your shoulders and you worked on the buttons of his flannel. He helped you pull it off of him and you licked your lips at your first real look at his body. At the tattoos down both sides of his arms. You didn’t have time to catalog them all, but you would eventually. You were going to lick and trace every single one of them.

He was thick in all the right places. A hard stomach and big arms. His stubble tickled your chin while he started to kiss your cheeks and your neck. You were a twisting mess of flailing arms and legs trying to get out of your sandals, his shoes, and his pants while working your way over to the bed.

You pushed him to sit on it and he bounced with a small chuckle. You dropped to your knees, tugging at the zipper of his jeans. “Yo, what you doin’? Ladies first,” he said.

You leaned up and kissed him. “I appreciate that, but I said I wanted to thank you proper,” you said.

“Sheeit, don’t let me stop you then,” he said. He grinned, gifting you with another rare smile from him. It fueled your desire.

You tore desperately at his pants and briefs, freeing his long, thick dick. You moaned at the sight of it. The tip already weeped, precum beading. You swiped your tongue at it and Fontaine moaned, rolling his neck.

You continued to please him, licking him in certain spots trying to learn what turned him on. What made his dick twitch in your hands or his balls jerk. You wrapped your lips around his thick head and sucked him down.

“Fuck! Just like that!” Fontaine groaned. His hands disappeared into your braids, tugging on it. You groaned around his dick and he hissed in return. You batted your eyes at him and sucked him for real this time. No more teasing. No more games. No more tests.

You drooled on his dick, growing wetter at the act. You could practically feel him inside you already, ruining you for any other man. You used both of your hands to please him where your mouth couldn’t reach.

Sputtered words and soft commands filled your ears on top of you gulping him down. “Mm, suck that shit down, sweetheart,” he groaned.

That spurred you on, that you were doing a good job. You gripped his thighs and leaned up to take more of him. “Gah damn,” he said and licked his lips.

You took him in deeper, as far as you were able without using your hands. You breathed where you could. The only thing that mattered was letting him know what this night meant to you. What he meant to you.

You slurped on his dick, letting the spit lube up more of his dick for you to slide on him. His moans grew louder, fingers clutching your braids harder. “I’m finna bust,” he groaned.

You kept going. As if that was supposed to stop you? That was the goal! You wanted him to bust. You wanted to empty his balls into your mouth. You wanted to taste every ounce of his cum in the back of your throat.

He gasped and he was unleashing himself inside you, filling your mouth with him. You swallowed him down and moaned, arousal leaking from you. Pussy throbbing.

Fontaine grabbed his dick and pulled him from your mouth, tapping the head against your lips. You kissed him and he smirked. “You a bad one, ain’t you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Oh? You a good girl?” He asked.

You nodded. He hummed, the low vibration sending signals down to your pussy. “Good girls get rewards don’t they?”

You nodded, too struck dumb by him to say anything else. What was there to say? If you opened your mouth, all kinds of sticky, gooey, lovey dovey shit would fall out and you’d never been good at that.

Fontaine stood up and helped you to stand, he kissed you, not caring that he just finished in your mouth. You loved a nasty nigga. He unzipped your dress and kissed your shoulders while it fell from your body.

He unhooked your strapless bra, freeing your titties and licking his lips at the look of you. “Like two little chocolate kisses for me,” he said. His lips descended on them, suckling each one and learning the shape and feel of them in his mouth.

His hands worked your panties off, pushing them off your legs. He kissed on your chest as he laid you down and now it was his turn to get on his knees. His turn to push his head between your legs and suckle his way past your pussy lips.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. His tongue was a gift from the gods. Long and big, he flattened it against your pussy and moved his head in circles. Your breaths shuddered and your body twisted, legs shaking.

He pulled the orgasm from you like it was his divine right and you screamed out, lungs burning with the effort. Fontaine kissed your thighs and your belly, wiping your essence off on you.

“Let me taste,” you begged. Fontaine chuckled and climbed up your body and kissed you, letting you taste just how wild he made you. You scratched up and down his chest and back, pulling him closer.

“Let me feed you this dick,” he said.

“Feed it to me, baby,” you moaned.

He gifted you with another grin. Wide smile and crinkly eyes that you wanted to swim in. He pushed his jeans completely off and next went his black tank. He didn’t have any tattoos across his spacious chest and you ran your hands over him, learning every mole or scratch on him.

He had a faint scar across his shoulder and you traced it with your thumb. You didn’t have time to ask him about it before his dick was pushing at your entrance.

You hissed and pushed on his chest. You were sure you were wet enough, but he was still massive. “Slow! Slow!” You cried.

He tilted his head and moved his hips, pushing deeper into you. Once the tip was in, he shoved all the way in with one hard thrust. You gasped, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he stretched you out with a bite of pain.

You slapped at his shoulder. “I said slow!”

He chuckled and kissed you, trying to ease the sting. “I can’t help it. You so fuckin’ wet. I need you,” he moaned. He fed you long, deep strokes touching a deep, sweet place inside of you that might’ve been your soul. Like he wanted to write his name in the very fabric of you and never lose you.

You gasped as he delivered these strokes, hissing when he hit that deep spot again and again. Your legs began to shake in earnest. “Mhm, don’t hold it, sweetheart. Let that shit go and lemme feel it.”

“Fon-tai–” you moaned.

“Shhh, I know you wanna call my name. I know you do. But all you gotta do is focus on that nut. Focus on my voice,” he asked.

He stretched you perfectly. And from how much arousal there was, it was staining your sheets. You were sliding up and down on his dick now, titties flapping from the strength of his strokes.

He moaned, watching the expressions play out over your face. He cupped one of your titties, pushing down to hold you in place while he fucked you. “Mhm, doing so good, sweetheart. So good, focusing on you. Focusing on what I’m giving you.”

“Oh god, oh god,” you moaned, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Shit, just like that baby. Grip it just like that,” he moaned.

Your cries turned wild, keening, and loud while you gripped onto him and shook and twitched through your orgasm. He hummed while you did so. Satisfied with himself.

“You-you didn’t…”

“I know, turn over,” he said. His deep voice let you know that he wasn’t playing. Somehow, you found the strength to flip over. He smacked your ass, watching it jiggle.

He entered you once more and you cried out. You would never get used to his size. Never get used to him slamming and stroking inside of you.

“Fuck!” You moaned.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. Hear how he knew exactly what you needed.

He gripped big chunks of your ass and used it like handles to slam you down on his dick, faster, and harder. Your elbows ached from trying to brace yourself against him. You slammed back, giving as much as you were taking.

“Ouue, that’s my good girl. You show me what you got,” he encouraged.

You continued to throw it back, craning your neck in time to see him throw his head back, surrendering to your pussy. It was enough to make you cry out, back bowing to another powerful, earth-shattering, world-altering orgasm.

“Take that shit, baby,” he moaned and then finally climaxed, pumping you full of his delicious cum.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I need it, baby,” you moaned.

“I know you do,” he grunted as his dick stopped pulsing. His cum leaked out of you as he pulled out. He spread your ass cheeks to watch. He slapped your ass when you were sure no more would come out. You were thoroughly stuffed like a twinkie.

Fontaine left the room and you collapsed forward onto the bed, strength leaving you. A bit of nervousness crept in its place though. You wanted to ask him to stay. You wanted to roll over and be all sexy and enticing. As much game as you talked, sometimes you had moments where you couldn’t make your mouth move.

Fontaine came back into the room with a warm rag to clean you off. You moaned and he rubbed your ass as he cleaned off your thighs as well. You sluggishly rolled over and smiled at him.

“You’re so damn cute,” he said.

“You are,” you said and smiled.

“When yo roommate getting home?” He asked.

You shrugged and looked away from him. “Um, I think she said she doing something this weekend,” you said.

“So you gon’ be home alone?” He asked.

You shrugged again and played with the edge of a pillow. “Yeah, I think so.”

The bed dipped as Fontaine sat down on it. He grabbed your chin and made you look at him. You didn’t want to. You tried to fight him. But he only smirked and held on. You looked at him and he tilted his head.

“Do you want me to stay, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Only if you want to,” you said.

He shook his head and pecked your lips. “Be a good girl for me and tell me you want me to stay,” he said.

He smiled and you rolled your eyes. He got on your damn nerves. But you couldn’t quit him.

“I want you to stay, please.”

He nodded and kissed you. Then he pulled you further onto the bed and tucked you under the covers. He defied any expectation you had of his gender. He really was killing it for anyone else.

Though, as sweet as he was being, you knew that there would never be anyone else.

Me and you.

You stopped here and wiped a runaway tear sliding down your cheek. You sniffled. You were both a couple of fools. Two fools in love. In a love that blinded you to anything else.

You should have told him to go. Should have told him that one night was all you could have. Even thinking that, your chest seized like your heart was being compressed under a massive weight.

There was no you without Fontaine. And there was no Fontaine without you, you hoped.

Check out the Tyrone masterlist if you need more in your life! The Secret Tyrone Files

Graphics by saradika-graphics

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cozage · 1 year

Note

OMG HIII I LOVE YOUR WRITINGGG this is gonna be my first request ever (literally having a nervous breakdown) but I wanted to request a fem reader who is the bio daughter of whitebeard and comes back after 2 years of shinobi training to meet the new crew member Fire fist ace! and can you pls make it a short fic (I cannot fathom the words of how obsessed I am with this man IFDFJDKDGJK) (also can she have a DF that's associated with lava? pls and thank you *literally bowing*)

A/N: God this was so adorable to write. I'm so obsessed with this fun little story. Literally once I started writing I couldn't stop. thank u

Characters: female reader, Ace, Marco, Whitebeard & Crew

Cw: alcohol, drunk reader

Total word count: 2.3k

Part 2 | Table of Contents | Read on A03

The Daughter’s Return Chapter 1: The Promised Position

The vivre card in your hand continued to move forward, but you could see the familiar outline of the Moby Dick ahead of you, and you grinned at the sight of being so close to your family again. You had been training for two years, and you couldn’t wait to catch up with your friends and your father after being apart for so long.

Your small boat looked even tinier as the giant ship loomed closer to you, but you weren’t concerned. Blue flames shot into the sky from the blue ship, and you sent out a stream of lava into the air in return. It was your code to the first division commander and friend, proof that you were who they were expecting.

You saw a creature with blue flamed wings shoot into the sky, and you gathered up your things. You only had a small backpack and a few bags of food, so there wasn’t much to pack up. You said goodbye to your small raft, thanking it for its usefulness during your journey.

Marco landed on your boat, and you squealed in delight seeing your brother again. He wrapped you up in a hug and spun you around, laughing gleefully at your return.

“Pops is going to be thrilled to see you,” he said, sitting you down. He ruffled your hair affectionately, smiling at you. “Missed you, kid.”

“Missed you too, Marco,” you said, grinning at him. You picked up a bag, handing it off to him to carry back to the ship.

“You’ve grown!” he commented. “I can’t look down at you anymore.”

You gave him a cheeky grin. “I’m stronger too.”

“You better be!” He laughed. “Pops didn’t smuggle you into Wano for you to come back the same!”

“Maybe he’ll finally make me commander now.” You stared up at the ship, thinking of the goal you’d been working towards since the beginning of your training.

“About that…” Marco trailed off, and you shot him a suspicious look.

“What?”

He sighed, deciding to prepare you. “Pop’s filled the second division commander seat, actually.”

“What?” you hissed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“With who?” you demanded. You refused to believe him. “I thought nobody wanted it.”

“It’s a new guy.”

“A new guy?” you scoffed. “You’re pulling my leg, Marco. It’s not funny.”

Marco looked nervous talking about it. “Let’s go see Pops, alright? He’ll explain.”

You scowled, and your stomach clenched in anticipation. “Yeah, let’s go. I have some words to say to him.”

Marco wrapped his arms around your torso and extended his phoenix wings. “I’m glad to see you’re still a hothead.” You could hear the teasing in your voice, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes anymore.

“Shinobi training can’t fix everything,” you grumbled. You could feel your skin getting warm, a sign you were letting your emotions get to you.

You heard a lot of low whispers and mumbling, but you paid the new recruits no mind as you stormed across Moby Dick. Your father wasn’t on the deck, so you continued on to the command room.

“DAD!” you screamed, and you could see some of the newer members slink away from you in fear. A part of you felt some pride to have such an impact, but you were too pissed to revel in it.

You slammed the command room door open to find your father speaking with another man you didn’t recognize, but you paid the guest no mind. You were too focused on settling the score of the second division commander seat.

Whitebeard smiled at you. “Y/N! You’re-”

“You bastard!” you shrieked. You pulled out a kunai, pointing it at your old man. “You promised!”

The unknown man threw a knife and knocked the kunai out of your hand, and you turned to glare at him. He was shirtless and was wearing an obnoxious orange hat, and he was returning your gaze with a look of equal irritation.

“Stay out of this, newbie,” you hissed at the man.

You reached into your pouch to grab another kunai, but he lunged at you, grabbing your wrist to stop you.

“I don’t know who you are,” the man said in a low, dangerous voice. “But you have no right attacking Pops the moment you get on our ship.”

“Stay out of my affairs,” you snarled.

You turned your wrist to lava rocks to burn his hand, but at first the man didn’t react. You frowned, turning up the heat to liquidize your arm into magma, and finally the man pulled away in pain. He looked down at his hand in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting to be burned. You couldn’t blame him. It’s not everyday someone’s skin turns into boiling liquid.

Whitebeard laughed loud and hearty, breaking the tension between you and the man, and you refocused your anger back to your father.

“Never a dull moment with you around, kid! It’s great to have you back,” he laughed, and your face flushed with anger.

“You promised me a commander position when I got back,” you yelled at him. “Who the hell did you give it to instead?”

Whitebeard laughed even harder. “That would be Ace.”

“Who the hell is Ace?” you hissed.

The shirtless man raised his hand. “Uh-”

“I said stay out of my affairs!” You could feel steam coming off your head. Sometimes that happened when you got too angry.

The man pointed at himself. “Me. I’m Ace.”

You could feel your insides turning hot, lava coursing through your veins.

“You’re joking,” you said. You glanced at your father, who was still smirking at the two of you. “He’s joking, right?”

You father raised his eyebrows, his gaze darting between the two of you, but he said nothing.

“Portgas D. Ace,” the man said, holding out a hand to you. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, facing your father.

“This guy?'' Your voice was full of skepticism.

“Hey!” Ace yelled from behind you. “Don’t underestimate me!”

“I could squash you like a bug,” you shot back, still refusing to look at him. “Dad-”

“The decision was made with good reason, my girl,” Whitebeard said. “You’ll be working alongside him closely in the second division.”

“No, I won’t,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at his suggestion.

“Yes, you will.” You could hear the seriousness in your father’s voice, the warning of consequences thick in his tone.

You decided it was best to not outright defy him, and you switched your tactic from stubborness to logic.

“I’ve always been under Marco,” you reasoned.

“You’ll be better suited in the second division now.” You could feel Ace smirking behind you, and you resisted the urge to turn around and punch his teeth out.

“Let me get this straight,” you said, trying to keep a level voice. “You give my commander position away and then tell me I have to work under the guy who took it from me?”

Ace laughed. “The second division position has been open for-”

You flicked a volcanic rock back at him, and he yelped in pain.

“Marco is a fire user like me,” you worked to plead your case further. “And I know him. I would work better under him.”

“The first division is a medical division now,” your father explained. You could see you were testing his patience, but you didn’t care. “Your talents are better served on the offensive front, which Ace leads.”

“But-”

“Plus,” your father added, cutting you off. “Ace is a fire user as well.”

You felt warmth spring up behind you, but you refused to give Ace the satisfaction of being acknowledged.

“Dad-”

“I’m not wavering on this decision,” he said with finality.

You felt your father’s conqueror’s haki spread out over the ship, and you knew that you had lost the argument. You could hear Ace stumble slightly behind you, and you resisted the urge to argue even further over the man’s weakness. At this point it would only make your father angry, even if you were right.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed, giving up. There’d be plenty of time to talk with him about the position and prove your worth. “Can we at least have a party?”

Whitebeard’s overwhelming presence disappeared and his jolly laugh returned in an instant, already forgetting your alls squabble. He stood up, wrapping you in a comforting embrace, leading you past Ace and out onto the deck.

“My daughter has returned home!” he shouted, and the crew cheered. “Prepare a feast!”

At least the party life on the Moby Dick hadn’t changed at all. You could still beat just about anyone in a drinking contest, and by halfway through the night, your mind was cloudy from the alcohol.

You took a step away from the party and the fun to get a moment alone with the stars. You took a drink of the ale in your tankard, staring up at the million lights in the sky and thinking about how different the constellations looked during your time in Wano. You were so close to that country and those people, yet so far.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” a male voice said behind you, startling you from your thoughts.

You glanced back to find Portgas D. Ace walking towards you, looking up at the night sky. He was attempting to be casual about the whole thing, as if he had randomly found you here, but you could tell that he had most likely searched you out on purpose.

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him. He wasn’t even worth giving the time of day. He hadn’t done anything to prove he was anything special yet.

But Ace obviously wasn’t willing to give up that easily, because he came and stood directly next to you. His eyes were still on the sky, just like yours were.

“I just feel like since we’re going to be working together, we should probably get to know each other a little better,” he said.

You thought of plenty of snarky responses, but said none of them. You knew the silent treatment would be the best way to shut him down. Portgas D. Ace was not your friend. You wanted nothing to do with him.

“Are you happy to be back on the ship?”

Still nothing came out of your mouth. You didn’t even look his way, you simply took another long drink. But you could see him starting to pout. It was only a matter of time before he gave up and returned to the party. You just had to keep your mouth shut.

“All the guys said you had a pretty smoking ability. But I dunno, I think my fire ability is pretty hot.”

You scoff at that. “I’m hotter,” you shot back.

Damn him. He could rile you up, and he knew exactly how to. You could see him smirk in the corner of your eye, and you cursed yourself for being so easy to manipulate.

“That’s what they all said too,” he said quietly, a smile still lingering on his face.

You turned to look at him, your face full of frustration. “What do you want?”

He seemed surprised by your question. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you speaking to me?” you demanded. “What do you want?”

“Wh-No-I just-” Ace stammered, trying to find his words.

You stared at him, your scowl deepening every time he started his sentence over.

“You’re Whitebeard’s daughter, aren’t you?” he finally asked.

“Yeah. And?”

“I’ve just heard a lot about you,” he said.

“And?”

“I dunno,” he said. “You intrigued me.”

You scowled at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I dunno!” He let out an exasperated sigh, turning his gaze to the stars. “You were just this larger than life story people always told since I got on this ship. Everyone always had something to say about you. I guess I just wanted to know how much of it was true.”

“All of it is true,” you said.

Ace let out a laugh, and then clamped his hand over his mouth to stop himself. “I really hope not.”

Your eye twitched, and you could feel your skin starting to tingle. “If people are lying about me, they’ll pay for it.”

“Marco talked about you like you were this sweet little kid.”

“Marco’s delusional.”

Ace laughed again, and this time he didn’t stop himself. You found yourself smiling along with him.

“He definitely sees the best in people,” Ace said.

You shot him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You could see Ace tense. “Oh, nothing! I-”

You let out joyous rings of laughter now, and you see Ace give a strained smile, mostly unsure of how to react to your sudden friendliness.

“You’re funny, Portgas D. Ace.” You go to take another sip of alcohol, just to find your cup empty. You frowned at it, and turned to go find more booze.

“I’ll get it,” Ace offered, holding out his hand to take your cup. “I’m empty too.”

You nod, handing it off to him. The party was so loud anyway. You preferred the quiet atmosphere this late in the night. He strode away, and you watched him go, your father’s emblem displayed proudly on his back. He still wasn’t anything special, but at least he wasn’t scared of you like half of the crew.

You hadn’t realized how much alcohol you had drank throughout the night until you were alone, and suddenly the world was spinning. You laid down on the deck to get your bearings, and then found yourself stuck there.

When Ace came back, he found you sprawled out, staring upwards.

“You okay?” he asked. He bent down to look at you, his face obscuring part of the sky.

You giggled. “Your freckles look like stars.”

“You’re drunk.”

“No you’re drunk.”

He chuckled. “Your insults get worse as the night goes on.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and then patted the deck next to you. “Come lay down.”

He obliged, his head resting next to yours. “What are we looking for?” he questioned.

“Shhhh!” you hissed, pressing a finger to his mouth. “You’ll scare them away.”

You felt his lips turn upward against your finger, but he was quieter when he spoke.

“What are we looking for?” he whispered.

“Shooting stars!” you whispered back.

“Oh,” Ace whispered. “Of course.”

“Tell me when you find one,” you said quietly. “I’m going to rest my eyes for a minute.”

You’re not sure if he ever found one. You were asleep before he responded.

#im a sucker for stargazing SUE. ME!!!!#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x y/n #portgas d ace x you #ace x reader #ace x y/n #cozage #the daughters return #✧˚ace✧˚

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horanghater · 5 months

Text

Scenic Route

Summary: Road trip entertainment dries up fast, but Soonyoung has one more idea to help you pass the time.

▸ Pairing: Soonyoung x F!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+ / pwp / established relationship

If you are a minor AND/OR if your account has no age in the bio, you will be blocked upon interacting (liking/reblogging) with this post.

▸ Warnings: unsafe driving, oral (m, f receiving), piv, (light) breath play, creampie

▸ Word Count: 2.1k

▸ A/N: Wishing the happiest of birthdays to my lovely friend @onlymingyus! I hope you enjoy this slice of debauchery cake! @shuadotcom is my beta and my world <3 Love you both sm!

“I’m bored.”

“You’re bored? You’re not even driving,” Soonyoung scoffs, gaze fixed on the road ahead.

The problem with road trips is that between the rest stops and attractions, there are too many dead zones with little to look at in between. You’ve read, slept, listened to an audiobook, and even after another nap, you and Soonyoung still haven’t arrived at your destination for the night.

“Yeah, I’m not driving or doing anything else. My phone has no bars,” you pout as you put your screen to sleep again, silently praying for the millionth time for better service.

Soonyoung’s been with you long enough to know when you’re on the cusp of boredom-induced crankiness, so he racks his brain for ideas as he reaches over to squeeze your thigh comfortingly. “If you’re so bored, why don’t you get off and then go back to sleep?”

You’re sure that Soonyoung can feel your eyes boring holes into the side of his head. He can’t hide the way the sides of his lips quirk up, but he makes it a point not to return your stare. “You’re serious?”

His free hand moves from your leg to gesture at the steering wheel instead. “Unless you want to switch?” Ahead of you, there’s only an endless stretch of road and no other cars for what seems like miles. Getting back into the driver’s seat would be the only thing more boring than your current predicament. So getting off….that actually might be the best idea Soonyoung’s had all day.

But upright in the passenger’s seat isn’t the most ideal position. Sure, you could draw your legs up onto the seat and open yourself wide to make room for your fingers – it’s just not that comfortable. Finally, an even better idea dawns on you.

“What if I gave you road head?”

When Soonyoung finally does dare to glance at you, it’s with a mix of excitement and worry. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he draws the bottom one between his teeth thoughtfully. “You wanna? Will that work for you?”

You’ve sucked Soonyoung off in plenty of locations – the woods, a manmade hot spring, his parents’ house, a department store dressing room – but never in the car. His biggest issue is usually with keeping quiet and for once, that’s not a factor. So why not?

“It’s something fun to do, like you were saying. Come on, turn on cruise control.”

Soonyoung fiddles with the controls on the steering wheel and adjusts in his seat, giving you enough room to work his cock out of his pants. It’s not the smoothest, but the elastic waistband of his sweats are forgiving enough to work with.

You waste no time, gathering saliva on your tongue and engulfing half of his cock in the heat of your mouth. Soonyoung hisses and fidgets with nowhere to go. When all he does is cuss and you feel him getting firmer, you figure it’s safe enough to keep going. With his arms just above you gripping the wheel, you can’t bob your head with the vigor that you usually would. Pushing yourself to lean a little further into Soonyoung’s lap, you hollow your cheeks and hold yourself there, delighting in the way he twitches against your tongue. Soonyoung makes a sound that’s somewhere between a yelp and a groan; it’s all the confirmation you need to proceed. Alternating between swiping your tongue around his length and throating as much as you can proves to be a winning combination. It’s barely any time at all before the familiar saltiness of his precum hits your tongue. Having Soonyoung unravel beneath you is always arousing, but every time you get a taste of his essence, it instantly doubles your excitement. It’s starting to feel uncomfortably damp between your thighs and you squeeze them for what’s honestly not enough relief, but you will yourself to at least finish him off before you find another position that will let you sink your fingers into your core.

Just as you’re starting to get lost in Soonyoung, he swears again and you feel the car veer to the right. His palm rests against the back of your hand when you try to assess; not forceful or scared, simply reassuring. You slow your ministrations down, letting him rest against the flat of your tongue as you await an explanation. When the car rolls to a smooth stop, Soonyoung lifts you back up and throws the gear in park. He’s pulled into a lookout spot between a thicket of trees, the front of the vehicle facing the rolling waves of the sea. It’s a gorgeous view that belongs on a postcard. You turn to tell Soonyoung as much, appreciating the romantic touch, but the words die in your throat as you watch his eyes indulgently fall over your curves.

“I need more than just your perfect mouth, baby girl. Let’s have some more fun.”

If you don’t tell him “no”, Soonyoung just takes. And when you don’t stop him now, that’s all the signal he needs. He twists off the ignition and hastily unbuckles your seatbelt, all but shoving you into the back before he ejects himself from the driver’s seat.

Soonyoung is great at eating pussy, so you certainly never require an excuse from him if he wants to do just that. Nonetheless, he provides an explanation of “since we don’t have lube” as he kneels on the ground in front of the car, settling between your unclothed legs as they dangle haphazardly off the side of the seat.

You’d no plans to argue anyway, but any sense of uncertainty went out the window the moment his tongue drags up your entrance and lush lips kiss your clit. The sensation plunges you into a pit of need with Soonyoung every single time, whether you’re ready for it or not. Then, when he pushes the soft muscle into your dewy entrance, your legs reflexively snap shut, only blocked by his shoulders. Soonyoung lets you trap him there, relaxing his jaw so he can sloppily mouth at your swollen lips, tongue still working into you as deep as he can get it. You can’t hold off your orgasm for very long when he’s like this, eager and voracious. Soonyoung knows it too – and when you start to spasm around him he pushes deeper and sucks as his nose nudges against your clit.

Your hands fly to his hair when you feel him groan and nuzzle into you. Soonyoung reaches up to take your hands instead, weaving your fingers together so he can anchor you as the flame in your stomach bursts into a fireball. It feels like the wind’s been knocked out of you as your body temperature spikes and you fall to pieces on Soonyoung’s tongue. He lets you ride the feeling out on his face, content to forgo oxygen if it means breathing only you in instead.

It feels like your climax lasts forever, though it’s clear that Soonyoung’s been (impatiently?) waiting for you to reach a plane of calm bliss when he rises and his bottoms are pulled just below his ass to expose his cock, hard and weeping from the tip. You crane your neck to get a better look, but Soonyoung does one better and climbs right on top of you, caging you on your back between his knees.

You call to him and Soonyoung singsongs your name back, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek. At the last second, you turn your head and force him to meet your lips, giggling at the taste of yourself on him. “Love you,” you whisper. Soonyoung pulls back just enough to study you, showering you with affection with his eyes before he repeats, “Love you too, baby.” He scooches forward and then he’s pushing inside, cock pulsing as your walls mold around him. You gasp along with him, holding onto his forearms as he starts to move. Soonyoung looks so good like this: chin tucked into his chest and brows tight as “fuck yes”s and more “love yous” tumble from his lips. Taking in the sight helps you to appreciate the slight burn that comes with his cock stretching you open, as is always the case when you’re both too excited to bother going any slower.

What helps the most, though, is the way Soonyoung mumbles out praises when he begins to thrust with real intent.

“So perfect for me, made for me.” “You always feel so good, princess.” “Taking this dick like a fucking pro.” No matter how vulgar it sounds, the praise feels like a weighted blanket, wrapping you up in threads made of need and adoration.

The distant sound of tires on gravel threatens to pull you from the headspace that is only Soonyoung, a moan dissipating in your throat before you can breathe it out. He’d ignored the way the car felt like a sauna and how cramped this all was, but the threat of being caught finally gets him to pause.

Soonyoung grouses as he pulls himself from you, twisting around awkwardly to bat your legs until you pull them closer so he can slam the car door closed. With your quarters at their tightest yet, he yanks you toward him by your hips and then rocks you back with your knees folded into your chest.

This time when Soonyoung sinks into you, it’s so much deeper. He sets a breakneck pace, pupils blown as he watches you whine at the feeling while he smacks his hips into your ass. The tires you heard earlier are less distant now, but Soonyoung won’t let you worry about it further.

He presses his entire body into you, your combined weight forcing out a punched exhale as he grinds his hips against you feverishly. The tip of Soonyoung’s cock is prodding at the knot forming in your belly. Your mouth falls open, but he shushes you and makes sure to fully relax atop you, stopping you from taking in enough air to make more noise.

Soonyoung controls everything from your orgasms to every breath you dare to take in. The reminder tugs sharply at the knot as your eyes roll back and flutter shut, succumbing to the pleasure bullying its way through your body. “Ssh, ssh,” he murmurs above you, voice shaky with his own end quickly approaching. “You can cum like this, can’t you? Don’t wanna get caught.” All you can do is nod as he grinds deep, rhythm faltering as he grits out, “So, so, so good for me, baby girl.” Soonyoung shifts just barely, but the change is enough to press into your aching clit. The friction surprises you, knot snapping as blood rushes in your ears and your climax rips through your limbs. You’re too wrapped up in each other to see it, but you can hear the way your cum oozes out and pools at your entrance to form a ring around your abused hole. It’s lewd, perverse in a way that would have you drawing in a breath if Soonyoung would allow it.

The way your cavernous walls shrink around and pull Soonyoung’s cock inward slows his movement, but not his intensity. Feeling you gush around him and watching you cum silently, lungs at his mercy, goes straight to his balls. They grow tighter when he finally eases off of you to thrust at one more angle, the anticipation making him tingle.

You gasp deeply and whimper, “Soonyoung” pitifully when you’re finally allowed to breathe once again. You feel pleasantly warm all over, if not a little achy, and smile up at him, dopey.

The sight of you fucked out is what does Soonyoung in at last, gritting out more praise as he stills and hot cum floods your cunt.

You stay together like that for a few minutes, panting and sweaty as your skin sticks together uncomfortably. When Soonyoung finally does move, you sigh with relief as you extend your legs, the movement soothing even if you can’t rest them down properly with the limited space.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Soonyoung frets, grimacing at his own sweat. “Paper towels are in the trunk, I think. That other car left – let me go back there so I can clean you up.”

“S’ok,” you mumble, basking in twilight.

Soonyoung loves you all of the time, but especially in moments like this when all you feel is the warmth of paradise.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he admits softly.

“Love you too.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re passed out with your hood pulled up and cinched together under your chin, head leaning against the window.

Soonyoung peers at you, smiling contentedly at knowing he’s the cause. “Can’t wait to get to the damn hotel,” he says aloud to himself. “Got some more fun for you there, baby.”

#svthub #kvanity #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #svt reader #seventeen x reader #hoshi smut #soonyoung smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #hoshi fic #soonyoung fic #svt fic #seventeen fic

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billthedrake · 8 months

Text

This one I started a few months ago but didn’t get too far yet. It started off as a spinoff of Dads I’d Like to Fuck and took on a life of its own.

THE SPORTS ILLUSTRATED JINX

Doing that cover was how I met my partner, my first one at least.

The Sports Illustrated issue had just dropped. A big cover photo of me, looking serious and posting with my bat, and the words "Miracle Worker" in big letters over my image. I was winding down my rookie season in the majors at the age of 21 and had exceeded high expectations. Life was good.

"Don't pay any attention to that jinx business," a man said as I was out a high-end steakhouse after a game, enjoying a drink in the bar area. "It's all bullshit."

The man was my type to a T. Late 40s, sturdy build, some gray in his medium-length hair, masculine dad-next-door looks. I am often guarded in public, but I gave him a big smile.

"Yeah?" I asked. "I sure hope so."

This man had an easy way about him. Confident, but not overly so. "It's definitely BS," he added. "Look at Trout. Didn't hurt his career one bit." His blue eyes seemed to sparkle as he talked, and I had to wonder if I was reading too much interest in them. Sexual interest. "But you don't need me to tell ya that, man."

I shrugged. "Well given how many people have brought up that fucking jinx," I said, "it's nice to hear a different point of view." I extended my hand. "Luke... nice to meet you." I mean, the guy clearly knew who I was, but I wanted to know who he was.

"Dan Ogle," he said, as he clasped my hand with an equally strong grip. In baseball you judge a man by his handshake. Dan was used to being judged. "It's an honor to meet you."

"You in the business?" I ventured.

"It shows?" he chuckled. "Yeah, I'm a scout. Was with the Orioles organization and now work independent."

"Smart move," I quipped. "The Orioles seem a mess lately."

"Ouch," he laughed harder. "That's tough, man." He gave my shoulder a friendly, gladhanding pat for a second. "Listen... I'm here to meet an agent buddy of mine..."

Something about his eye contact made me wonder if I could make a move. "Let me give you my number, Dan," I said.

The way his eyes lit up said I'd made the right call. Maybe he was just star struck. But I'd work that in my favor if it meant seeing more of that sun-weathered face and those sea-blue eyes. He pulled out his phone, and I told him my number.

****

The first drinks I grabbed with the guy was basically a date. We didn't call it that. But we made the usual small talk. Dan knew a lot more about me than I did about him. So I had him tell me his bio. He'd played in the majors a few years and got into the coaching side in some single-A team. Was frustrated by the lack of opportunities there so went into scouting. Was married once, no kids, divorced at 38.

I talked more about what it was like to be a star. Even if Dan Ogle was never a magazine-cover caliber player, he understood me. The benefits of being idolized and famous, and the drawbacks. I didn't talk about the latter with a lot of guys, but I felt I could with this pro-ball veteran.

Our eye contact got heavier as we talked. Like we knew what we were dancing around without coming out and saying it. Finally, I asked, "So, Dan... you able to be discreet?"

Without missing a beat he nodded. "Oh yeah. Absolutely." Those sea blue eyes staring back at me, with clear expectation.

"It's been a couple of months since I've gotten laid," I said, laying my cards on the table.

He let out a playful whistle. "Way too long, Luke."

"What about you?" I asked, finally nudging his knee under the bar. This was gonna happen, and I knew, and I was throwing hard in anticipation.

"About the same," he smirked.

"We should go fix that," I hissed.

"Now?" It wasn't a question of surprise. More, Dan was trying to read what was on my mind.

"If you're up for it... yeah, now." I knew my voice was getting that horny edge to it.

We settled up our check and I went over to Dan's hotel room. I wondered if we were going to have more conversation, maybe figure out what each other was into sexually. I was strictly top or into getting serviced. I normally got my way, but sometimes older guys think it should be the other way around.

But we didn't talk. Instead we met for a kiss as we rapidly stripped off our clothes. I'd barely unbuttoned my jeans when Dan crouched down in front of me, pawing my crotch and reaching in to pull out my cock.

"Damn, that's a big dick," he gasped. And then revealing he did not find that a problem in the least, the middle-aged ex-jock leaned forward and started sucking me.

"Holy shit!" I laughed. I wasn't 100% surprised Dan Ogle sucked cock. After all, I'd met up with older guys who liked to fool around. But I was surprised he was so into it, so good at it. He sucked me fast and hard, like it was his last cock ever. I didn't think that the almost rough sucking would feel good, but it was incredible. Those long fast mouth strokes and that heavy suction were gonna get me to nut, too soon.

"Ease up, man!" I gasped. "I'm almost cumming."

The veteran ex-jock spit out my prick and sucked in some air, as he swallowed that excess spit. "Yeah?" he teased, now hand stroking my bat. "What would be wrong with that?" The man was horny, and I loved how thrilled he seemed to be about sex. No hang ups whatsoever. That was a first for me, actually.

"Come on, man," I almost complained. "Let me at least feel up your body for a bit, you know... enjoy this some."

That took Ogle by surprise. I think he thought I'd just want to shut my eyes and use his mouth or something. Maybe that's what dudes like me had done before with him. Leaning back, he showed off his bare chest. "Didn't think you'd be into all this, man," he smiled.

"You have no fucking idea," I growled. I could unload my daddy issues on Dan later and tell him how I was wired for men over 40, but for now, I just wanted that physical contact with that more mature muscle. "Let's get on the bed," I urged.

I stripped off the rest of the way and ate up the way Dan's eyes feasted on my nakedness and my erect state. Maybe it was the ego boost he needed to strip down all the way and almost pose for me as he got on the bed. His body wasn't perfect but it was pretty damn nice. Strong muscle, just the right amount of hair, amazing legs. Dan had been a catcher back when he played.

His body felt hot to the touch when we embraced. He was a good kisser and seemed to get into the sensual, slow approach. I matched his speed, even as I was horny as fuck and leaking against his furry belly. We made out and rolled around some, and I ended up on top of him. Heart pounding against his chest and his strong grip feeling up my lat muscle.

When I pulled back from our lip lock the 40-something scout had need in his eye. "You wanna be in me, Luke?" he asked softly.

"Hell yes," I growled.

He smiled. "I got some lube in my bag in the bathroom, if you wanna get it. Rubbers if you want, too."

I hoisted my athletic body out of bed and went to get the stuff, my dick sticking straight out like a divining rod. The stuff was easy to find. Indeed next to the small lube bottle there were two foil packets. I loved that a man like Dan came prepared.

I didn't take a condom, though, and I could read Ogle's silent excitement as he saw me empty handed other than the lube. I flipped the cap and squirted the slickness onto my fingers as I got up on the bed. Any other time, I'd enjoy more foreplay and rim him out some. I loved eating ass, and an ex-catcher daddy would be one hell of a feast. But I needed to fuck.

He hissed at the first finger but the second went in like butter. Dan Ogle wasn't a slut bottom, but this wasn't his first rodeo. As I lined up my cock, I was excited to be topping such a hot guy. It was still sinking in that I was a lucky bastard.

"That's good," Dan said softly as I pushed in. His sea blues were looking up, and he was nodding slightly as I pushed on. I knew why. He was tight as fuck and he knew I wouldn't be able to read if he was good to go. Thankfully, he was.

"You have an amazing ass," I grunted as I bottomed out. He was hot and snug and his insides felt alive around my cock.

Dan was horned up, and his dick twitched on his furry belly. He had some love handles but otherwise was total DILF. "I can't believe you're here fucking me," he almost laughed.

I held my body steady for him, his legs on my shoulders. "You ever fantasize about me?"

"Didn't dream to," he admitted.

"But a player like me, right?" I nudged him mentally. "You always wanted to get nailed by a guy like me." That second part was now statement, not a question.

"Jesus," Dan growled, a deep belly growl. "Fuck yes."

"You got it, man," I said and just started fucking. Not hard, but it was a deep steady fuck and I was hung enough for him to feel it.

He stroked as I railed him then let go when he was getting too close.

"Go ahead," I urged. "I'm pretty close, too."

I watched him stroke and I watched his hand work up his pleasure in tandem with the internal stimulation I was giving him. Then I watched the 40-something ex-catcher spew his pearly white seed all over that gorgeous daddy fur.

"FUCK!" I grunted and felt my own cum rising up, all of a sudden. Two months was a long time between lays. I held his legs tightly and humped his ass with a couple of final fast strokes.

I was flush red and breathing fast as I came down. Dan laughed at me some, and I laughed with him. "I needed that, buddy," I said, giving his meaty chest a playful dual fist bump before I leaned back and slowly pulled out.

I had to watch the slight creampie in his hole before it shut back up. A conquest trophy.

"I could tell," Dan grinned as he lowered his legs and shook out the stiffness. "I don't normally like it missionary, but that was hot as fuck."

I grinned, plopping down on the bed. "It was."

Dan gave me one last look, like he still couldn't believe his luck and still couldn't believe this happened. I got that look a lot, and I always ate it up. "Gonna shower off," he announced.

He was back to normal when he got back. A little quiet, maybe moody. I didn't know his deal, but I wasn't gonna find out. I took a piss and got dressed.

"Take care, man," I said as I got ready to leave. He was on his phone, checking on texts or something.

He looked up. "Yeah. Have a good one."

I got the message. One time thing. OK by me. I was a player, a hunter, always onto the next lay. One time things were my MO.

Only the next morning I awoke to a text. Dan Ogle's text, sent fifteen minutes earlier. "I got an 11AM plane to catch. But maybe I can interest you in a morning BJ before I go?"

I texted him a thumbs up and my hotel and room number.

****

It's not as easy having groupie sex when you're into guys as when you're straight. But it happens for me far more than you'd imagine. I just have to be cautious with my approach, feel a guy out. The thing is, if a guy has a remote bi-curious streak, it's almost a sure thing that a star athlete will be able to exploit it. The star struck thing goes a long fucking way, and guys felt excited to be close to me. Even if only for an hour or a night, they were getting one-on-one Luke Fulton time.

My first groupie was when I was still in the minors. But I was clearly a top prospect in the farm system and come Spring Training I had a chance to practice and play with the big league guys.

I was gathering up my stuff after an afternoon game versus the Tigers when I saw him. A few of the guys would meet with fans after, but this man seemed to be waiting for me. He was very much a typical corporate looking dude. Medium height, golf shirt, golf tan, khaki shorts, ball cap, expensive watch, dad sneakers. Meaty dadbod build filling it all out and looking pretty good for a man in his 50s.

"Hi Luke," he said, polite but also forward. "Can I get your autograph?"

That was my first request for one, actually. I smiled. "Yeah?" I said, registering my surprise. "Um, sure."

I walked up and set down my bag. He handed me a pad and a pen. "You're gonna be the biggest star," he said, referencing the pro team name whose roster I was vying for. His gaze was on me, like he was trying to memorize the whole encounter for later. That was my first taste of groupies, the way they might not even be showing sexual interest but they clearly are into me and being around me.

"I'm not 21 yet," I reminded him.

"Well, I've been watching your progress. Ever since the draft." OK, Corporate Dude was one of THOSE fans.

"Who should I make this out to?" I asked, maintaining equally heavy eye contact. Corporate Daddy was good looking in a normal way, and that turned me on, too. He reminded me of the men in my hometown. I even flashed a wink, nothing too over the top, but doing as much flirting as I dared.

"Jim," he said. "God..." he continued as he watched me write my dedication and sign my name. "This is really cool."

I looked up and flashed my grin. "Isn't this what you come to Spring Training for?" I asked. "To meet the players?" Maybe I was starting to lay it on thick.

Jim was gung ho, though. "It's my second year here, but yeah... the chance to talk to you guys is incredible."

His eye contact was heavy and his wedding band made me think he wasn't the blabbing type. I still consider a band the best insurance when hitting on a guy. I took another paper out of that pad and wrote my number on it.

The man seemed embarrassed. "What's that for?" He asked.

Goddamnit. I guess I misjudged. "Never mind," I said, maybe a little curtly. After all, it wasn't any guy I gave my number. I started to grab the paper back.

He blushed, getting it, really getting. "Oh. That's cool, that's man. I'll keep it. If that's OK."

I nodded. "Just keep it private, OK?" I meant my number but also the fact that I'd given it to him.

"Oh yeah," he said.

I gave him one more wink and picked up my bag to walk back to the locker room.

It was an hour later when I got a text. "Hey. It's Jim. Thanks for giving me your number."

"Thanks for using it," I typed back. I was hanging out with some of the guys from the team, about to get some dinner.

I didn't hear back for a few minutes, then I got another text. "I don't normally do this kind of thing."

"It's cool man. I don't bite. No strings no expectations." I didn't have my mojo down, but I knew with a guy like this corporate dad you had to reassure him.

"What are you looking for?" I could almost sense his nervousness on his end.

"That's something better talked about in person," I wrote.

"Yeah," he acknowledged. Then "I'm around all week."

"Tonight?" I wrote. "9?"

"Yes."

He gave me his hotel info, which worked better. I was in a good mood when I showed up and gave a soft knock.

Jim had a nervous, naughty look as he ushered me in. "Hey..." he said as he shut the door behind me. "I shouldn't be doing this."

I got it. I'd met married men with misgivings before, but none as strong as this man's.

I paused and looked at him, giving him my best friendly expression. Giving him an out. "It's up to you, man. I'm not gonna pressure you."

He thought for a second. It was like I knew what he was thinking. Wondering if he'd ever get another chance at this. "I wanna," he replied.

"Cool," I said and stepped up to him. I'm used to seeing athletes and coaches all day, so sometimes a normal build like Jim's pales in comparison. But now that I was there, up close, he looked pretty damn fine. My hand touched his chest through his golf shirt and moved down to feel up his sides. I drew him closer to me, being forward now to claim a kiss off him.

He grunted as our lips met. I slipped my tongue forward and felt his excitement grow as his lips part and accepted it. We made out for a minute, which is the surest way to get my motor running. I was rock hard now, for sure.

I pulled back and examined his handsome face. "I guess I should have asked if you kissed," I said.

He exhaled a breath he'd been holding. "Yeah... that was my first kiss with a man, actually."

I cocked a grin. "Whaddya think?"

"'s pretty wild," he answered honestly. "But good."

My fingers now caressed his side, and I could sense he was getting majorly hard, too. "You done anything with a guy?" I needed to know where I stood.

He shook his head. "Back in college. You know some fooling around with fraternity brothers. A couple of blow jobs, that kind of thing."

I cocked my eyebrow. "You ever give one?"

Jim blushed some, making his reddish tan redder. "Yeah... it was years ago."

I pulled him closer to me, so he could feel my hardon against his own. "I'd very much enjoy getting one, man... if you're up for it." He was warming up to the idea, I could tell, but I wanted to head off any hesitation. "It's just us here. No one's gonna know."

"I don't know if I'm any good," he objected.

I moved my hand up and patted his shoulder. "Trust me, I'll love it." I didn't throw in a "pretty, please," but I was being as gradual and coaxing as I knew how to be. "Come on, why don't you sit on the bed?"

He nodded and stepped back from me. He was rock hard in his khaki shorts, which was a good sign. And as he settled on his hotel bed, his look was one of excitement more than nervousness.

I didn't want to spook him, but I was getting crazy horny. Jim was pushing my buttons big time. I stepped up till I stood about a foot in front of him. Then slowly, I undid my shorts and pulled out my boner.

Some guys comment on my size when they first see my endowment, but Jim just silently watched, eyes going wide.

"It's OK, bud," I assured him. "Just take what you feel comfortable with." I scooted closer so my hardon was an inch or so away from him. His licks were tentative, then less so. I could sense the novelty for him, and the thrill that came with that. I knew this was the last thing he expected to be doing on this trip.

"You've done this before, man," I urged. "You got this."

He nodded and then opened his lips to take me in. He bobbed up and down on a few inches. Jim wasn't lying. He wasn't any good at this. But I loved the feeling of his warm mouth and the wet tongue against my steel-hard dick. And I loved the rush of seeing this regular married daddy servicing me. I let him do his thing for a minute then spoke again.

"Feels nice," I encouraged him. Then, "Just suck me like you enjoy being sucked, man."

That seemed to make something click for him, and he adjusted his blowjob. Jim wasn't gonna be a pro cocksucker any time soon, but THIS was a lot better. He flenched when my hand touched his hair, but when he realized I was just gonna stroke his head in encouragement he relaxed back into it.

"Take your time, bud," I hissed, spreading my stance a little. "Takes me a good couple of minutes to work up a head of steam. But this feels awesome."

It did, and the physical sensations were starting to build up. But I also imagined this guy sucking dudes back home, showing off what he'd learned on me. That was the trigger that got me off.

"You better swallow, man," I growled. Mr. Easygoing was gone. I didn't want him pulling off. Maybe my fingers curled around the back of his head to keep him from retreating.

He grunted. Agreement, I guess. But he kept sucking as I spurted into his craw. I heard a choked sound, but it wasn't an actual choking. Mostly a grunt of excitement as he tasted, then swallowed, as fast I was pumping more sperm into his mouth and throat.

"Damn, that was nice," I hissed as I let go of his head and finally stepped back out of his sucking mouth.

"Did I do OK?" he asked, voice thick with my cum still. Something about that question was adorable and exciting both.

I smiled. "Fuck yea you did." I nodded down to his hard crotch. "You need to get off?"

He unzipped. Clearly, sucking me had worked him up. He spit into his palm and I watched him start pulling his pud. It wasn't gonna take him long, not from the excited look in his eyes and the fast fist motion. I stepped closer and let my dong sway in front of his face.

That got him going. "You got a great cock," he admitted.

"And you sucked it," I reminded him.

"Yes," he grunted, and like that he was cumming.

"That's it, man," I urged.

Our release complete, I stepped back and tucked back in as he wiped himself with a Kleenex. His mood shifted some.

"We good man?" I asked. He could have all the guilt pangs he wanted, but I didn't want a full-on freak out.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Thanks for that.... I'm gonna remember that for a long while."

"If you wanna make some more memories this week, you know where to reach me."

#drakestories

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