#I SHOULD NOT BE WATCHING THIS AT 10:30 AT NIGHT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ginnsbaker · 14 days

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (10/?)

Part Summary: “Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you again.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.200+ | Warnings: UST, fluff, very light angst | Author's note: I think the summary should tell you what to expect *winks*.

Despite going to bed very late, getting up in the morning isn't hard for you. Though it’s mainly because you barely had any rest at all. The real reason you couldn't sleep wasn’t the couch’s fault—it was the soft, irregular snores drifting in from the bedroom and the new, quiet awareness of someone else in your apartment. Every so often, Leigh would make a sound or shift in her sleep, and you would clench your fist hard against the blanket, resisting the urge to go check on her.

The stillness of the early dawn settles around you, and Leigh’s words come back to you like a quiet sail. “Do you know how intimate it is to sleep at someone’s house and not have sex?” she had said once, during one of your long, winding confrontations about Matt. It was a statement that had deeply affected you then, and even more so now, with her just a room away. You remember recoiling when she nearly spat the words at you. You wonder if Leigh also remembers, especially considering last night.

You rise from the couch before your alarm has a chance to ring, padding softly into the kitchen.

Cooking breakfast has become a kind of ritual, an act of service between the two of you. Smiling at this thought, you crack eggs into a bowl, add milk and vanilla, and start whisking. You soak slices of bread in the mixture, heat up the pan, and place them down to cook. French toast is on the menu today, and you hope Leigh likes it.

You set the table quietly, arranging the plates and cutlery, pouring orange juice into glasses. As you lay down the last slice of French toast on the plates, you add a light dusting of powdered sugar and a few slices of fresh strawberries for a pop of color and sweetness. With everything prepared, you sit down at the dining table to wait for Leigh to wake up.

After a while you glance at the clock and see it's 6:30 AM. You need to be at the clinic in an hour. With a sigh, you cover Leigh's plate with a napkin to keep it warm and start eating alone, just as you've done since moving here.

Finishing your breakfast, you wash the dishes and put everything away, your movements mechanical. You know you should get in the shower soon, but everything you'll need to prepare is in the bedroom. Pushing the door open just a crack, you peek inside to see Leigh sleeping peacefully, her face so different from its usual, more troubled visage when awake. She’s lying on her back with her mouth slightly open. The sheets have slipped past her hips, and her shirt has ridden up, exposing her stomach to the cool air. You tiptoe into the room and carefully pull the covers back up over her, tucking them around her gently.

Afterward, you crouch by the bed for a minute, simply observing her steady breathing. You feel a surge of affection as you watch her, wondering if she feels safe here, with you. Her face, relaxed and unguarded, is the very same one that Matt woke up to every day of his life for the past decade until he left this world. You think to yourself what a privilege it was for him, to have shared so many mornings with her, to have been woven into her waking thoughts and dreams.

While you’re cautiously sweeping a few strands of hair from her face, Leigh’s lips suddenly move in her sleep. They part slightly as if she's talking, but no sound escapes. Her forehead creases into a frown—she's clearly dreaming. It's a serious, focused expression that makes her look like she’s deep in conversation with someone in her dream world, and you cover your mouth to stifle a giggle at the sight.

Realizing you've lingered longer than intended, you force yourself to stand. You quietly retrieve a towel and some clothes, deciding to take your shower in the living room bathroom. As you lather soap over your torso, the image of Leigh’s exposed skin haunts your thoughts—the small, soft patch of her stomach you saw earlier. Your fingers inadvertently brush over your own nipples, and you can't help but compare the sensation to what touching Leigh's skin might feel like, if the rest of her body feels just as smooth and supple as it looks. The thought sends a shiver through you, goosebumps forming despite the warm water. Your fingers wander lower almost of their own accord. A gasp escapes your lips when the tip of your forefinger brushes against your clit, the touch sparking an unexpected surge of arousal. Shocked by your own reaction, you quickly turn the shower knob, the water temperature dropping to a chill that snaps you out of your fantasies.

Get a grip, you mutter to yourself, feeling a combination of embarrassment and frustration. Leigh is just in the next room, trusting you, and here you are getting carried away. Shivering a bit under the cold spray, you finish up quickly, wrap yourself in a towel, and get dressed.

You take one last look at Leigh before you leave. She’s still sprawled out in the same comfy position, deep in sleep. Waking her doesn't feel right—not just to say a quick goodbye before you rush off to work. Instead, you jot down a note on a piece of your prescription pad. It’s a quick message letting her know breakfast is ready on the table, she should feel at home, and you’ve left an extra set of keys for her. You apologize for the early exit and sign your name with a flourish. You tuck the note under her plate of French toast, placing the keys beside it. Then, remembering the night might have left her with a bit of a hangover, you put a glass of water and an aspirin by her bed. You're trying to think of everything she might need to start her day off right.

“Bye, Leigh,” you whisper as you give the room one final glance. You step out into the morning, locking up but leaving a part of your mind behind, picturing her waking up comfortable and cared for. It’s ironic that just when you decided to keep your distance, you start running into situations that make you fall even harder for her. It's as if fate is constantly nudging you in her direction.

And frankly, you don't mind it at all.

Leigh stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open to a room that isn't hers. For a brief, groggy moment, she thinks she’s in Danny’s bed, but the scent is all wrong. Where Danny’s sheets carried a distinct note of sandalwood, they smell of lavender and something more… feminine. The soft difference in fragrance tugs at the edges of her memory, pulling forward the events of the previous day.

She blinks slowly, her mind piecing together the snapshots: the sharp words exchanged with Danny that morning, the solo trip out on Halloween, finding herself unexpectedly in Matt’s favorite restaurant. That’s when you came into the picture, dressed up for a date that never showed, and Leigh stepped in. You both shared a beer on the hood of your car, surrounded by glimmering, dreamlike sights, but all she could focus on was how the streetlights played over your face, making you look almost magical as you laughed, a half-empty box of donuts on your lap. You looked so... pretty, she thinks, the image stubbornly etched in her mind.

The night didn’t end there. She took you to a party. It was loud, crowded, but when you danced, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. She remembers drawing you to the dance floor, guiding your hands to her hips as she swayed. She recalls gazing at your lips, wondering how they would feel against hers.

Leigh buries her face into your pillow, her cheeks burning as she reminisces how close you were, your lips barely an inch apart. She tries to laugh it off, but it’s hollow, and her face grows hotter as she recalls you pulling away, the almost-kiss dissolving into nothing. The last-second rejection stings, but what really makes her squirm is the heat flooding her body just from thinking about it. In an attempt to distract herself, Leigh snuggles deeper into your bed, but it backfires. One deep breath and she’s engulfed by the scent you left on the pillow. It feels as if you’re right there beside her, the illusion so convincing that it briefly soothes the ache of your actual absence.

And it's in this moment, surrounded by traces of you, that Leigh finally allows herself to fully acknowledge the attraction she’s been trying to ignore. It's been a slow, maddening realization, an interest that has compounded until it could no longer be overlooked. It’s ridiculous, really, because it sort of feels like she’s proving Matt right, wanting you just like he did. She sits up, clutching the sheets close, her heart racing as she turns over everything in her mind. It feels contradictory yet somehow... inexorable, as if it were always meant to happen.

But Leigh pushes back against the idea that anything in her life is fated, especially when it comes to who she might fall for. She's always believed in steering her own ship, picking her paths, her battles, her loves. Not just going with the flow of something because it feels like the universe is pushing her that way. She wraps the sheets tighter around her, needing to feel safeguarded, needing to remind herself that she calls the shots.

She climbs out of bed and starts pacing restlessly like a mad woman. Yes, there's something about you that pulls at her, but that doesn’t mean she has to lose herself to it. For all she knows, it’s just a silly crush, perhaps amplified by the thought that you might have liked her first. It's probably just that—reciprocal attraction—nothing more.

A sudden noise from the living room jerks Leigh out of her tumultuous thoughts, and she frantically whips her head towards the door. It’s been so loud inside her head, that she hasn’t even considered the possibility that you might be out there—in your own apartment. Leigh stops pacing and strains to hear more.

There’s another sound. Thud. Thud.

With a shaky breath, she calls out, “Y/N?”

When no answer comes, Leigh edges out of the bedroom tentatively, as if stepping into her own trial. Her nerves are strung tight with anticipation of confronting you, the newly-minted object of her affection. However, as she rounds the corner, she finds only an empty living room. The quiet is almost startling. Another thud makes her jump—a dull, persistent noise. Turning towards it, she sees only pigeons at the living room window, poking their beaks against the glass, and Leigh exhales a long sigh of relief.

Intrigued, Leigh approaches the window to observe the pigeons. They remain undisturbed as she draws closer, diligently pecking at seeds scattered on the windowsill. So, you’ve been feeding them. It’s a small, charming detail about you that she hadn’t known, and it warms her heart to see this caring, tender side of you. Much like the way you took care of her last night, she feels like one of those pigeons.

Leigh leans against the wall next to the window, watching the pigeons bob their heads and shuffle around. Her eyes then drift to the dining table and land on a plate, invitingly covered, with a piece of paper peeking out beneath it. She walks over and lifts the cover to reveal a hearty serving of French toast, artfully arranged and topped with a sprinkle of powdered sugar and fresh strawberries.

The sight of the breakfast makes her mouth water, and without thinking, she reaches out with her hands and takes a bite. It's still slightly warm, a sign that you haven't been gone long. Comforted by this thought, she pulls out a dining chair and settles in, making herself comfortable. Then, picking up the note, she unfolds it to read while she enjoys her breakfast.

Hope you enjoy the French toast. I had to head out early, but I wanted to make sure you had a warm start to your day. Please make yourself at home, help yourself to anything you need, and here’s some extra keys to the apartment just in case. Sorry to miss saying goodbye this morning. I hope we can catch up later when I'm back - Y/N

Leigh bites her lip, staring down at the note and the keys beside it. It feels so... domestic. Almost too familiar, but too quickly. She can't help but recall the countless times she left similar notes for Matt, scribbled in haste before dashing off to her early morning classes at the Beautiful Beast. Her trips to Danny's apartment never felt quite like this. It had always felt more like a love nest, designed for pleasure, not partnership. It was somewhere to escape to, not a space she could ever see herself belonging in, being her own. But here, with these keys in front of her, it's different. This feels like stepping back into an old pair of shoes that doesn't quite fit the same way anymore.

Leigh hesitates, unsure if this is a good thing. If you are a good thing. With Danny, everything was safe, predictable. He wants her more than she wants him, and in a twisted way, that imbalance has become an assurance. It’s easier, requiring less vulnerability on her part. But with you, the balance feels equal, perhaps even tipping in a way that makes Leigh unsure of where she stands, unsure of her control over the situation.

That terrifies her. And she hasn't felt this scared since Matt left.

As if on cue, a loud ringing blares through the apartment. Leigh blinks, pulled abruptly back to the present, and realizes she has no idea where she left her phone. She scrambles to her feet, her search for the phone turning into a clumsy dance as she trips over herself in the process. After a brief, frantic search that feels longer than it probably is, she traces her steps back to your bedroom. There, beside the bed where she'd woken up, her phone is vibrating against the hardwood floor. The screen lights up with the name “Jules”. Leigh swipes to answer, holding the phone a bit shakily to her ear.

“Danny’s here.”

Shit, shit shit.

“Just get rid of him, Jules. I'll call him later,” Leigh says.

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then—

“Where are you, anyway?” Jules asks.

Leigh glances around, fiddling with the phone in her hand before answering, “I’m at a friend’s place.”

“Oh,” Jules lets out a low whistle. “Anyone I know?”

Leigh takes a deep breath. “Y/N.”

Jules falls silent, her breath the only sound coming through the phone. Leigh can almost visualize her sister on the other end, puzzling over why Leigh spent the night at your apartment and wondering if something happened between you two. She anticipates the barrage of questions that will greet her when she gets home.

“Leigh, I—” Jules starts to say.

“Don't. I'm leaving soon. Please make sure Danny's not there when I arrive. Please,” Leigh says.

“Okay,” Jules says simply, and then the line goes dead.

Leigh leaves the keys where you left them and takes your note with her.

As the day wears on, your phone remains dishearteningly quiet. You keep checking, hoping for a simple message from Leigh—a thank you for the bed, a comment on the breakfast, or just a note to say she’s left your apartment. But nothing comes through. Each passing hour stretches your patience thinner and makes you question every detail of last night.

Her lack of reaction leaves you with too much time to think. After the debacle with Sara and the no-show date you met from a dating app, you had felt a surge of disillusionment. So much so that last night, after Leigh left your car and walked into the party, you found yourself uninstalling the dating app from your phone in a moment of clarity. You decide it's time to focus on what feels more real, on what your heart has been screaming all along.

Leigh.

You want Leigh, and you’re going to go after her. Forget about Danny. You won't let Leigh spend another Halloween alone, or Christmas, or New Year’s. You're resolved to be there for all the important dates—and, if you're lucky, every day in between.

Hey Leigh, just checking in to see how you’re doing. Hope your day was good, you type and hit send. You won’t wait anymore for her to reach out when you can just let her know you’ve been thinking of her. You toss your phone down and rub your hands on your face. Now it’s just a matter of waiting to see if she feels the same.

Leigh postpones meeting with Danny until later that evening, having spent the day lounging in bed and replaying the songs you had on in your car the previous night. She received your text, but she hasn’t even opened it yet. It's silly, but she feels that if she starts talking to you, a dam will burst—and she's not ready for that. Instead, she reaches out to Danny, asking him over so they can talk.

When Danny arrives, she doesn't invite him inside. Since Jules and her mom are home, they walk to the front steps and sit side by side, maintaining a slight distance between them.

It’s Danny who breaks the silence first. “Leigh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you so hard. Look, I just think it's a great opportunity for us—or for me, at least. And since you’re not tied down to the Beautiful Beast anymore, and your writing and part-time job are flexible, I thought... Why not?”

Leigh's expression hardens at the mention of her old job, at Danny's reasoning, and his diligent insistence. She didn’t call him over to rehash the fight they just had yesterday.

“Just because I can work from anywhere doesn't mean I want to leave,” she says. “And if we're going to have the same argument again, then you should just go.”

When Danny told Leigh he had landed a job as a retail associate at a high-end hotel in Vegas, he expected she’d be happy for him. She was, but when he suggested they move there for a fresh start, her response was an unflinching no, leaving him feeling wounded.

“But what's really keeping you here, Leigh? I mean, besides your family. Is there something else?” he asks.

At the question, Leigh feels the past and present colliding. First, she sees Matt's face, always Matt's face—his smile, the comfort of his presence that used to fill her days. Then her mind flickers to the times she found herself passing your clinic after long, aimless drives meant to clear her head. Your face starts to overlap with her memories of Matt, not replacing but somehow intertwining.

“Matt,” Leigh forces herself to say, forces herself to believe. “If I leave this place, it's like... it's like I'm leaving him for good. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s how it feels.”

“Matt's been gone for a long time. You think he'd want you to just stop living your life? Waiting for what? For a ghost?” Danny argues, his voice rising just a little. He looks away, down the shadowy street. His hands ball into fists and then relax. Under the weak glow of the streetlamp, it’s as if Matt’s shadow stretches beside him, a long, imposing figure that Danny can never seem to escape.

“Leigh, I’m just trying to help us move forward, that’s all,” he continues, softer, more defeated. Leigh catches the tightness of his expression, the effort it takes him to stay calm. She reaches out, her fingertips lightly touching his knuckles. Danny grabs this small sign of affection, quickly cradling Leigh’s face in his hands and drawing her into a fervent kiss. Leigh doesn’t respond immediately, but then she melts into its familiarity, allowing her lips to be pliable to his.

Danny breaks the kiss, his breath ragged as he searches Leigh's eyes. “Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to leave Matt for good,” he whispers.

She shakes her head, her voice trembling. “I-I don't know, Danny—”

“Leigh, I love you.”

It's the first time either of them has said it. Leigh had imagined fireworks or something clicking into place when it happened. She expected the grand declaration to sweep her off her feet, but instead, she finds herself still teetering on the brink, not quite ready to leap. But what she cannot ignore is the sincerity in his words. Danny has loved her through her worst—in his own way. It's not easy to dismiss or reject such devotion.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Danny says quickly. He's afraid of hearing her say no again. Silence would be better; he could let himself believe that maybe she felt the same way. Silence could mean ‘yes’, right? he thinks, grasping at straws.

“Leigh, I’m taking that job, and I’m leaving after Thanksgiving. That gives us about a month,” he says, cradling her face now with both hands pleadingly. “Please, just think about it. Think about coming with me.”

Despite her reservations, Leigh ends up saying, “Okay, I'll think about it.”

Danny’s face breaks into a smile. He kisses her again, a soft, reaffirming kiss that seems to thank her for even considering his request.

The next second, Jules interrupts the moment, opening the door unceremoniously. Leigh throws her a sharp look, which her sister disregards with a shrug.

“Logan's been barking at the door for some time now, in case you didn't hear,” Jules drawls, cradling a bowl of cereal—her dinner.

At her words, Logan bursts through the opening and makes a beeline for Leigh. He leaps straight into Leigh's lap, settling in with a decisive huff, his eyes darting possessively from Leigh to Danny. It's as if he's laying claim to her, telling Danny without words that Leigh has roots here too deep to simply pull up, saying, she’s mine, you’re not going to take her away from me.

Leigh pulls Logan closer, thinking about how much you’ll miss him if she decides to go with Danny.

You get home from work just after nine, tossing your keys on the kitchen counter with a weary sigh. A quick check of your phone confirms what you'd been dreading all day: Leigh still hasn't read your message from the afternoon. That sinking feeling of disappointment hits you again—harder this time. It’s like a pattern with her: warm and engaging one day, distant and cold the next. You can't deny that this inconsistency is starting to wear on you. It's bordering on cruel.

What are you doing wrong? Why can’t you figure out what makes her switch off like this?

And then, unable to help it, you send another text.

[9:10 PM] You: Is everything okay?

Dinner is a microwave affair tonight, not that you're really tasting any of it. You sit down to eat, your phone still within sight. That message never gets read either.

Leigh has always been unpredictable, but she has never actively avoided you like this before. She knows what she's doing, leaving your messages unread for the past three days. Just when you declare to the universe that you'd pursue her, she shuts you out completely. You can't even feel sorry for yourself; somehow, you brought this on, right?

When the day rolls around for Logan's next vaccine appointment, you catch yourself nervously checking the time more often than usual. But when the appointment time comes, a different Shaw brings him in. Jules holds onto Logan's leash as he excitedly sniffs every corner of the waiting room, his tail wagging a mile a minute.

“Hey,” Jules greets you, a bit out of breath from handling Logan's forceful tugs. “Leigh had some things to take care of, so I'm on Logan duty today.”

“Of course, no problem at all. How’s he been?” You try to keep your tone light as you kneel down to give Logan some attention, scratching behind his ears the way you know he likes.

“He’s been great, a real bundle of energy,” Jules replies, watching you with Logan. She hesitates before adding, “And Leigh’s been... well, you know Leigh.”

Actually, you think, you don't know Leigh—not as well as you thought. “Yeah,” you respond, looking up at Jules with a forced smile. “I know.”

After you administer the vaccine, the appointment passes with small talk, mostly about Logan’s antics and not much else. Jules is friendly but doesn’t venture into whatever might be happening with Leigh.

Just as you’re seeing Jules off, the clinic door swings open again. And you’re completely unprepared for the person who steps in.

“Hi,” Sara smiles at you, and then lifts the kitten in her hands. “Think you can help me with her, doctor?”

In a moment of unpreparedness, you cough awkwardly to cover your reaction, a flush creeping up your cheeks. “Hi, Sara,” you say, a bit flustered as you usher her inside. “What do we have here?”

“It's a rescue. Found her all alone by the roadside,” Sara explains, handing the tiny kitten to you with a concerned frown.

Jules catches the interaction, her eyes narrowing slightly—not missing how your entire demeanor changes around Sara—who is undeniably beautiful.

“Right this way,” you tell the blonde, leading her to the examination table. “Let's see what we can do for her.”

As soon as you and Sara are out of earshot, Suzie muses aloud, “They'd make a lovely pair, don't you think? If only Y/N wasn't so hung up on a widow…”

Jules stiffens slightly, her voice cool as she says, “And you are?”

“Suzie,” Suzie responds cheerfully, extending a hand to Jules with a bright smile. “Y/N’s assistant and friend. Nice to meet you.”

Jules shakes her hand, her smile polite but reserved. “Jules,” she responds tersely, omitting her connection as Leigh's sister. “So, what about Sara and Y/N?”

Well, Suzie can’t resist a juicy bit of gossip now, can she?

You don't usually pour yourself a glass of wine on a weeknight, but after today, you've cracked open a bottle that's been gathering dust for a year. Sara’s surprise visit at the clinic left you rattled. She had called you out for being distant after the two of you ran into Leigh one morning, and it embarrassed you how right she was. You hadn't been upfront about your emotional availability—or lack thereof—because of your feelings for Leigh.

When you finally admitted to Sara that you were in love with someone else, you braced for a fallout. But instead, Sara laughed, a light, carefree sound that took you by surprise. “I don't mind if you're emotionally unavailable,” she had said with a shrug. “I'm just looking for something casual.”

For a split second, her proposition—friends with benefits—was like candy being dangled in front of you: appetizing and readily available. But that conversation was at work, in the middle of your clinic, and the timing felt all sorts of wrong.

You let the moment pass without responding, and Sara backtracked a little with a noncommittal, “Well, you have my number. I really like you, Y/N. We can be friends, and if you ever need to…unwind, well, I can be your best friend.”

You're midway through your glass of wine when you decide to check your phone again, automatically opening the chat window with Leigh. It's almost become a habit, expecting your messages to remain unread. But this time, Leigh's avatar is right there under the last text you sent. She's read them. Today.

Why now?

Before you can dedicate the rest of your evening into that question, a knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. It's late, and you don’t remember ordering food delivery. You set your glass down and head over to see who it is.

Upon opening the door, you're greeted by a downcast brunette. She looks nervous, clutching her purse as if it were a lifeline.

“Leigh?”

“Hi,” she says, lifting her eyes to meet yours, searching your face for a reaction. As confused as you are, your heart kicks up a notch simply because she’s there, so close you could reach out and touch her. For a moment, you wonder if you're dreaming, if the alcohol is taking effect and conjuring up your desires right before you.

You notice the slight tremor in her hands, the way she’s standing—a bit too rigid, like she’s bracing for something tough.

Clearing your throat, you start to ask, “Would you like to come—”

“Is she here?” Leigh interrupts abruptly.

You blink in surprise.

“Who?”

“Sara,” Leigh replies, her chin jutting forward. She attempts to peer past you, as if she might find the answer somewhere inside your apartment.

“No, she's not,” you say slowly, puzzled and a bit annoyed by her tone. “Why would she be?”

You can't hide your surprise at her directness, or the discomfort it stirs in you. It's a bit ridiculous, even rude, how Leigh has been avoiding you, leaving your messages unread, and now she's here, asking you about another girl without a preamble. Leigh doesn't wait for an invitation; she brushes past you and steps further into your apartment, her eyes searching every corner of the room.

“I thought you said it didn't work out with Sara,” she says, almost accusingly, turning to face you again. The way she's acting—like she has any right to demand answers about your personal life after days of silence—is starting to grate on your nerves.

You press your lips together, taking a deep breath to quell your rising irritation.

“It didn’t. She brought a kitten to the clinic today, that’s all. We're not seeing each other, Leigh,” you tell her. Although she did tell me she’s interested in sleeping with me, you nearly say aloud.

Leigh’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Then why did Jules…” she trails off, her expression falling as it finally clicks.

Jules lied to her.

“Jules…?” you echo incredulously. “What did she tell you?”

Leigh's confidence wavers even further as she says, “She... she said she met Sara at your clinic. Called her your girlfriend.”

You shake your head, exasperation seeping through your features. “Sara is not my girlfriend,” you repeat firmly. The situation is quickly becoming absurd, and you decide to push a bit, to get to the heart of what's really bothering her. “But what does it matter to you if she was?”

“It doesn’t,” Leigh replies in a flat, unconvincing tone.

“Then what are you doing here?” you ask gently, as if addressing a child mid-tantrum.

Leigh doesn't answer right away, her cheeks glowing red as she looks anywhere but you. She's clearly embarrassed by the entire ordeal, and you find yourself struggling not to smile at the implications of her visit. She's bothered by the idea of you with Sara because—

“Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you once more.

“No, I... maybe. I don't know,” she stammers, then sighs deeply, her shoulders slumping as she finally meets your gaze. “Yes, I guess I am. I don't like thinking of you with someone else. Is that answer enough?”

As you take another step forward, Leigh instinctively moves back, and this dance continues until she finds herself against a wall. You're close now, close enough to feel the tension radiating from her. Her back is pressed against the concrete, your body just inches from hers, effectively trapping her in the corner.

Leigh doesn’t know at which point she’s closed her eyes. Was it when she felt your breath whisper across her upper lip as you sighed, clearly as affected by the proximity as she was? Or was it when her back met the cool wall, the hard reality telling her she had nowhere else to go? Perhaps it was simply the anticipation, the tightening expectation of your lips meeting hers, the thought of surrendering to this—whatever this is becoming between you.

But then, two seconds pass. Five. Ten. Nothing happens.

The anticipated kiss doesn’t come.

When she finally opens her eyes, the question in yours is unmistakable. You’re near enough, she could just lean in, but you’re giving her a choice, asking without words if this is what she wants. And that’s when she remembers how she ended up at your doorstep. Leigh's mind reels, darting back to Jules' little lie. She's struck by the realization that Jules probably felt compelled to lie because Leigh had been inadvertently pushing you away, leaving a door open for someone else to step in. And if she keeps this up, it might be Sara who ends up here, against your wall, in your arms. The image stabs at her heart, jealousy tightening her chest.

No, she can’t let that happen.

Summoning a courage she didn’t know she had left, Leigh reaches out and gently takes your hand. She brings it to her face, pressing her lips against your palm in a kiss so tender it steals your breath. It’s a silent plea. A tender claim.

It's just a small kiss, simple and soft, but it rushes through you like wildfire, stirring feelings deeper and more intense than any long, drawn-out foreplay ever did. You realize just how much you've been holding back, shielding yourself from potential pain. But now, as Leigh's kiss sears into your palm, all those defenses seem pointless. With a fervor driven by weeks of restrainment, you close the distance entirely.

Your kiss lands on Leigh's lips with everything you have, as if this moment, this single kiss, might be your only chance. Yet, even in your urgency, there's a tenderness, a reverence in the way your lips carefully slot between hers. As you kiss, there's a meticulous attention to the details—the softness of her lips, the way they fit perfectly against yours, the gentle give when you press a little harder. It’s as if you’re trying to memorize her through this kiss.

Leigh matches your ardor, her fingers weaving into your hair, tugging you closer as if she can't get enough. You react instinctively, your hands sliding from her hips to her waist, lifting her shirt just enough to feel her skin beneath your fingertips. The slight pressure of your nails makes Leigh gasp, a sound that breaks the seal of your lips just enough for you to deepen the kiss, slipping your tongue past her defenses. The act draws a guttural moan from her—a sound that vibrates through your core, sending ripples of desire pulsating through your body.

It shouldn’t be this perfect the first time, but it is.

The kiss grows wetter, more urgent. It's selfish, a relentless chase of sensation where both of you are simultaneously taking and giving everything you have, until it feels like there's nothing left to offer. While Leigh’s tongue explores every inch of your mouth, her hands find their way to either side of your neck, fingertips lightly grazing your skin, sending tingles straight down your spine. Your own hands aren't idle. They roam up her back, feeling the smooth expanse of her skin under your fingertips. As you slide your hands upward, you discover something that emits a low groan from you—she’s not wearing a bra. A part of you, the rational part that's still functioning, slowly begins to recognize the gravity of what’s unfolding. It's too easy to get lost in Leigh, in the rush and the heat, but something stops you. You want this—more than anything in the moment—but it has to mean something. Because once you cross this line with Leigh, there's no going back to the uninhibited, distant longing you've managed until now.

Just as the thought crystallizes, Leigh breaks the kiss with a wet pop. Her eyes flutter open, slowly, lazily. Her gaze is unfocused at first, pupils dilated, the vibrant green of her irises almost swallowed by the black. Oh, she definitely wants you too.

“Why did you stop?” you murmur, your voice unmistakably laden with desire as you rest your forehead against hers.

A grin tugs at Leigh’s lips as replies softly, “I just wanted to see you.”

Your smile widens as her fingers absentmindedly play with the little hairs at the nape of your neck. She seems mesmerized by your eyes, now darkened with lust, and without thinking, she blurts out, “You really do have espresso eyes.”

Her words make you freeze in her arms. That nickname—it's the same one you use anonymously for your submissions to your favorite advice column. Maybe it's just a coincidence, right?

But Leigh's reaction a moment later suggests otherwise. Her face blanches, eyes widening in a sudden flare of panic as she realizes what she's just said.

“Y/N—” Leigh starts but you cut her off by stepping out of her embrace, your stance becoming guarded.

The warmth vanishes from your eyes. “What did you just say?”

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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justagalwhowrites · 2 months

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Stranger in a Bar - Part One

A DBF!Joel Fic

You meet a stranger in a bar, one who is fun and sexy and makes you wonder if the single life is all it's cracked up to be. But there's one big problem: you probably shouldn't be fucking your dad's best friend.

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: This is smut, OK? Just a lot of smut. Protected P in V sex. Oral sex (m and f receiving). Age gap of 20 years. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 6.8k

A/N: So this was supposed to be a one shot and then it started getting out of hand. It's going to just be two parts for the moment, this is going to be a very little baby fic, OK? Small. Lil baby story. Also. there's a hefty age gap and it comes up because logistics but no power imbalance. Thanks for always putting up with my shit, y'all are the best ❤️

Bar None, Present day

One of your friends had just put Single Ladies on the jukebox when you saw him across the bar. Bar None, the place you’d picked for the night, had one of those stupid app-powered ones and the three girls you had kept in touch with from high school had been abusing it all night long. But the man across the bar was so distracting that you hardly noticed. His eyes were locked on you, so tight and hot that it would send a chill up your spine if it was from the wrong set of eyes. But they were his eyes. Dark and molten and set into a sculpted face with patchy scruff and shaggy curl streaked with gray.

No, you thought, he couldn’t spark anything but desire.

“We should do the dance!” Your friend Emily slurred, tugging your arm. “C’mon! Now that you’re a single lady again, you have to own it.”

She flashed her empty ring finger as Beyonce sang, a cocky - if half drunk - look on her face as she did.

You smiled at her.

“He did put a ring on it,” you twisted the stem of your martini glass. “That’s why there was a problem when he put his dick in someone else. I think I’ll pass on the Beyonce. But thank you.”

“Come on drunky,” your friend Dana looped her arm around Emily’s waist. “Let’s go dance.”

“Woooo!” Emily threw her arms in the air and Dana gave you an exasperated but happy smile over her shoulder as she guided her to the dance floor.

“Jesus, is it that late?” Parker looked at her Apple watch. You half smiled and took a small sip of your drink as she rifled through her clutch for her phone and let out a relieved sigh. “Thank God, Kevin hasn’t been texting with a ton of stupid questions. Why did I think letting a baby get totally attached to me was a good idea? The fact that she only said mama for two weeks was great at first but now that she refuses to do bedtime without me, I’m having regrets…”

“Do you need to go?” You asked, brows raised.

She winced.

“Would you hate me if I left you with the party animals?”

You laughed.

“No,” you said. “Go home, see your husband and kid. I really do appreciate the warm welcome back, you have no idea.”

“See?” She reached across the small table and gave your arm a squeeze. “I told you, just like old times.”

“Did you go back home at 10:30 to make sure a baby was properly put to bed when we were 18?” You teased. “I forgot that part…”

She rolled her eyes.

“Almost old times,” she said. “Besides, you love Bella.”

“I do love Bella,” you said. “And I love you. Go home, I’m good.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Text me when you get there?”

“Of course,” she slipped off the bar stool and came around to give you a hug and kiss your cheek. “I really am glad you’re back. Even if it’s because Reid was a dumbass.”

You just smiled a little and watched her leave, Parker pausing to wave to Dana on her way out the door.

“This seat open?”

The man from across the bar stood beside you, nodding to the seat Parker had just vacated. You smiled a little and nodded once.

“You have very convenient timing.”

“Well,” he shrugged. “Leaving a pretty girl all alone at the bar seems like a crime. Trying my damndest to stay on the right side of the law.”

“And how’s that going for you these days?”

He smirked a little. His cheek dimpled.

“Well enough.”

You looked at him, tracing the creases in his face with your eyes, the streaks of gray catching the low light of the bar. He was probably the oldest man there but damn, did he wear it well.

“You in town for a visit?” He asked, turning his beer bottle in his fingers and nodding to your friends on the dance floor. “Seeing friends?”

You cocked a little smile at him.

“No, actually. Just moved back.”

He raised his eyebrows, a look you couldn’t quite place passing over his warm features. His eyes drifted to your ring finger before he seemed to catch himself and look back at your face. You saved him the trouble, lifting your bare left hand and turning it so he could see. The indentation from your three carat engagement ring was still on your finger but your hand was empty.

“I think we should talk, Joel.��

Bar None, 10 years earlier

The man across the bar had no damn business being that good looking.

It was almost pissing you off how good looking he was. Tall, broad, with golden skin and thick, dark hair, he had the kind of face you wanted to explore intimately, in the way you could only do when someone was inside of you. The way men couldn’t control their expressions then was almost addicting. The way their eyes would roll back and their mouths would fall open, the way they stopped fucking around with pretense and just let themselves feel something - even if it was just your cunt - was beautiful and fascinating and almost elemental. It was like you could look into the very core of them for a moment, the way they always seemed to be able to look into you with just a glance. You wanted that with this man, whoever he was, this man who you caught glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Aww,” Parker pouted happily at her phone. “Kevin misses me!”

“Misses you?” Emily snatched the phone from her grasp, gaping at the screen. “You’ve been gone like two hours!”

“Will you just…” Parker snatched the phone back and looked at the text again. “And I think it’s sweet.”

“You’re ditching us, aren’t you?” Emily sighed.

“I think so,” Parker winced. “Is that OK?”

You just smiled a little.

“Go see the guy who’s got you all crazy,” you said. “But I’ll see you again before I leave town, yeah?”

“Course!” She came and gave you a hug. “Good luck getting rid of me. Have fun at that thing tomorrow!”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I’ll try.”

Emily rolled her eyes and judged Parker for a bit but it was less than an hour before she was leaving, too, with a man who’d asked her to dance and bought her a beer.

“You sure you’re alright?” She asked as she went to leave.

“Babes, I know how to be at a bar on my own. And my hotel is two doors down. I think I can figure it out.”

She kissed your cheek.

“Love you,” she said. “Try to have some fun!”

You watched her go, thinking about just how long you wanted to be sitting by yourself at a bar versus in a Holiday Inn Express standard room when a voice appeared beside you.

“This seat open?”

The man from across the bar nodded to the seat Emily had just abandoned. You smiled a little and nodded once.

“You have very convenient timing.”

“Well,” he shrugged. “Leaving a pretty girl all alone at the bar seems like a crime. Trying my damndest to stay on the right side of the law.”

“And how’s that going for you?”

He smirked a little. His cheek dimpled.

“Well enough.”

You smiled and introduced yourself before holding out your hand. He took it.

“Joel,” he said. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“Because I’ve never been here before,” you smiled. “I’m in from out of town, my hotel is a few doors down. This was convenient and hey, the Yelp reviews weren’t the worst.”

“What brings you to the great city of Austin, Texas?” He asked, settling in on the seat beside you. He was older than you but you kind of liked men that way now that you were in your mid 20s and exhausted by every man you’d dated in college. You liked them a little older, more established, men who knew how to cook their own damn food and give you your own damn orgasm. “Business or pleasure?”

“Neither,” you smiled a little, taking a sip of your drink. “Family event.”

“That’s not pleasure?”

You laughed once.

“Not the way my family does it.”

“That why you’re in a hotel and not stayin’ with them?” He asked, brows raised.

“Bingo,” you replied. “I get in, I get drunk, I get out.”

He nodded slowly.

“Good system.”

“Worked well enough for me over the years.”

The two of you ended up talking about music and books and UT football until last call - far later than you’d intended to stay out.

“Mind if I walk you back to your hotel?” Joel asked. “Not tryin’ to be a creep but… I’d sleep a lot better tonight knowin’ you got back safe. Promise it’s not a ploy.”

“Damn, it’s not?” You asked, tucking your purse on your arm and heading for the door. “Because I was going to ask you to come up to my room if it was.”

“Well shit,” he said, catching up with you. “Maybe it is a ploy then.”

You found yourselves drawing out the walk back all the same, pace more of an amble than a brisk walk, but the hotel was so close that it really only added a few minutes to your walk all the same.

“Well,” you smiled at the door to the lobby. “This is me.”

“Yeah,” he nodded once, looking inside for a moment before looking back at you. “Look… you don’t owe me anything, alright? I’m not the kind of guy who wants to force something. I can just head on back to my truck, no hard feelings…”

“Well maybe none for you,” you teased a little. “But I might have some. Unless you really don’t want to fuck me.”

“Oh, I want to,” he said. “Trust me on that…”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Been at the top of my list since you first walked in that place, baby, lemme tell you.”

“Well then,” you jerked your head toward the door. “Why don’t we cross it off the list?”

You took his hand in the elevator, his palm so broad, his fingers thick and long and callused in yours. You pressed your back against the wall and pulled him onto you so his hips were on yours and his nose brushed your own. His eyes ranged over your face, hungry and soft and open.

“You sure about this?” He asked, looking down at the rest of your body for a moment before going back to your face. “Sure you don’t have something better to do than some old man?”

“I’m sure,” you smiled at him, draping your arms over his shoulders. “Besides, I like old men. How old are you, anyway?”

“Forty-five,” he said. “How old are you?”

You snorted.

“I’m not sure I should say,” you said, holding him a little closer all the same. “Since you’re all hung up on age…”

“Not hung up on it,” he rolled his eyes. “Just… don’t need to be some youthful mistake is all. Wait, Jesus, please tell me you’re at least out of college, tell me you’re not a teenager…”

You laughed.

“No,” you shook your head. “Not a teenager. And I’ve been out of college a few years, I’m 25.”

“God,” he closed his eyes and shook his head once, like he was trying to shake the idea of you loose. “Still, that’s… you’re…”

You pressed your lips ever so slightly against his, more a quick brush than anything else, giving him every opportunity to pull back.

He didn’t take it.

Instead, he pressed his lips to yours, his hands going to your waist and tugging you tightly to his body while he pushed you back against the wall. Your arms got tighter to him and you opened your mouth, his tongue licking into you almost immediately. Joel didn’t need an engraved invitation, all he needed was a sign that you wanted him and fuck, you wanted him. More and more, each passing second, you wanted him. There was heat in you that was starting to flare so molten and hot that you pulled at his clothes, forgetting that you weren’t alone, not really.

The elevator dinged and he all but sprang back from you, both of you panting for breath.

“Fuck,” he breathed, looking you up and down, pupils blown.

“C’mon,” you took his hand. “I’m down the hall.”

You pulled him along behind you and fumbled to get your room key out of your bag. Joel’s wide, thick hands slipped around your waist as you did, tugging your ass back against his growing bulge and fuck, but he was huge. Thick and long and you knew his zipper had to be fucking killing him, cock that big and hard restrained by mere fabric and a slip of metal. His lips found the hinge of your jaw, your neck, down to your shoulder and you groaned a little as you clumsily forced the keycard in the door, the little beep the mechanism gave one of the best damn sounds you’d heard all night.

The two of you practically fell into your hotel room. You dropped your purse on the first table inside the door and started stepping out of your heels as Joel turned you around to face him, manipulating your body to put you right where he wanted you and the fire in you sparked higher, brighter as he manhandled you. Every touch he gave was loaded with need, the air thick and heavy with it as he pawed at your clothes and skin, licking into your mouth at every opportunity, taking your chin firmly in his heady grip to tug you open further for him, all but forcing you to give him everything.

You were as rough with his clothes as he was with your body, pulling so hard and fast at the buttons of his shirt that two popped free, pinging off the glass of the mass produced art that hung on the wall.

“Shit,” you panted, looking around the dark of your room for the buttons.

“Don’t give a fuck,” Joel replied, breathless, clutching you close and tight before you could pull away. “Didn’t really like this shirt, anyway.”

You shoved it down and off as he tugged your dress down your body, leaving it in a pile on the floor before turning you so the backs of your legs were against the bed. He deftly unhooked your bra with one hand then, ripping the straps down your arms but almost reverently lowering the cups, panting for breath as he exposed your breasts to his gaze. Joel tossed your bra to the side before taking the soft weight of your tits in his hands, cupping them, brushing his thumbs over your hardening nipples as he looked down at you with a look of near awe on his face. You half expected him to shove you back down onto the bed after his race to get you undressed but instead, his arm went around your waist, his hand splaying wide over the smooth skin of your back and he pulled you tight against him, making you gasp.

He moaned, deep and low, and dropped his head to your bared shoulder before trailing his nose over you to your neck, the wet heat of his breath on your skin.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn soft,” he groaned, almost pained, and pressed his lips to your throat, making your breath catch. You clung to the broad expanse of his back, fingertips pressing into him, trying to get at every inch of his skin that you could find.

His mouth found yours and he gently, delicately, lowered you back onto the bed. He cradled your body against his own, keeping the firm line of him taut to you as he kissed you. Joel rested you on the mattress and you let your legs fall open so he could settle between your thighs, the heady weight of him pressing against your clit and making you moan.

“You got a problem if I explore this pretty body of yours?” He asked, his lips still brushing yours when he spoke. “Because fuck, baby, seems like a sin to not touch every goddamn inch of you.”

He rocked his thick, hard, still clothed cock against your core, as if to make his point, and took your responding moan as the yes it was. He trailed his lips slowly over your body, down your throat, your breast bone, your stomach, your navel. His nose brushed against you, his breath covering you in warm and needy pants. When he reached your underwear - the last thing still on your body - his fingers looped through the band before he paused, looking up at you over your stomach and between your breasts.

“You still with me, pretty girl?” He asked, mouth so close to your skin that the wetness of his lower lip had caught on your stomach. “Still good with this?”

“Yes, Joel, please,” you were practically squirming. He was so close to precisely where you needed him it seemed like you might melt with the want of him. “Fuck, please…”

“Fuck, you’re even prettier when you beg,” he said and started to pull your panties down over your hips. You lifted yourself up off the bed to help and it wasn’t long before you were naked below him. He knelt in front of you and took your knees in his hands, parting your thighs for him and groaning when he did.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, so quiet you weren’t sure you were meant to hear it or if he’d meant to say it out loud at all. “Just… fuck.”

He opened your legs enough to lay between them, settling with your thighs over his shoulders. His thumb traced a slow, tender path over your slit, brushing your clit and making you gasp when he did.

“Swear you’ve got the prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen,” he said before he pressed his lips to your leaking hole. He moaned as he did and you couldn’t help but thrust against him once. He pulled back from you just a little, his nose barely touching your clit as he did. “Needy little pussy, too, huh?”

Your fingers knotted in the bedspread and Joel’s mouth found your clit, softly sucking the sensitive nub between his teeth to tease with his tongue. You fought the urge to rock your hips against his face, trying to remember that this man was practically a stranger, not a lover whose tastes you knew intimately. But that was hard to remember as he worked his way lower, his tongue slipping inside of you with a deep groan.

Joel ate you like you were a delicacy he longed to savor. He started slow, tasting and teasing you open, before delving deep like he couldn’t resist it, his thick tongue exploring and finding the soft and tender places inside you. His thumbs spread you open wide to him, his nose against your clit and you couldn’t stop yourself, you rolled your hips against him. He moaned into you and you forced your hips down on the bed, trying to clear your head enough to be still.

“Sorry,” you panted. “I didn’t mean to do that, you’re just… really fucking good at that.”

He stopped and pulled back from you enough to look up your body again, a frown on his face, your slick glistening on his beard in the light from the parking lot outside.

“You think I don’t want you fucking my face?” He asked. “Fuck, baby, I want nothing more than for you to take exactly what you need. Want you to make yourself come on my face, you understand?”

You swallowed and nodded.

“What are you going to do?” He asked, voice almost stern.

“Make myself come on your face?” You more asked than answered.

“Better sound more sure than that,” he said, fingers moving to your clit. You gasped and moaned at the contact. “Come on baby, what are you going to do? Say it. Own it.”

“Come on your face,” you panted. “Fuck, Joel… I’m going to come on your face, I’m going to make myself come on your face, please…”

“Good,” he said, going back to eating your pussy.

It was like he’d been holding back before but had nothing stopping him now. His tongue pressed deep, his nose nestled in your slit to nudge your clit, his arms looped over the thickness of your thighs to keep you open for him while also pressing the softness of you to the sides of his head. Your orgasm built quickly, the heat in you sinking to your core, everything inside you there going taut and tense. You were just on the edge of it, whimpering below his tongue and his touch when one hand left the warmth of your thigh and moved to your slit, his finger sliding inside you alongside his tongue. He pressed into the soft, tender place inside you that seemed to elude other men, finding it with an almost practiced ease and moaning when he did, sending the sparks of your climax shooting through you.

He groaned, needy, as he ate you through it, not letting up, not even for a second until your orgasm had subsided and your head was swimming.

“Fuck you feel amazing,” he pulled himself from you, sucking the finger that was inside you clean before wiping your slick from his beard while his other hand traced over the smooth softness of your inner thigh. “Should’ve asked this sooner but… please tell me you’ve got a damn condom. I wasn’t exactly lookin’ for this tonight, not until I saw you, so I’m not exactly prepared.”

“I do,” you propped yourself up on your elbows, trying to remember where the hell you left your suitcase in the dark. You spotted it on the dresser, thankfully still mostly organized since you’d arrived that afternoon. You nodded to it. “Suitcase, top zipper pouch inside the lid.”

He got one, the crinkle of foil strangely loud in the silence of the room.

“Here,” you sat up and reached for him as he came to stand between your legs at the edge of the bed. “Let me do it…”

He gave you the packet and you opened it before palming the condom, holding it tight in one hand while slipping the other into the open zipper of his jeans and into his underwear to find his thick, heavy cock.

You moaned as you wrapped your fingers around his length, hard as steel wrapped in silken skin, and you stroked him, just half way up his cock at first before going from root to tip. He was dripping there, his arousal making his head slick and wet. You brushed your thumb over his leaking tip, the smooth skin making your mouth water. You looked up at him through your eyelashes as you leaned forward to lick him before taking just the very end of his cock between your lips. You suckled at him gently, lapping up his precome, Joel’s breaths getting heavier and faster as you did, before you took him into your mouth. He moaned as you sucked him, his hand going to the back of your head and holding you against him, your nose brushing against the base of his stomach. You took his head into your throat and moaned around him as you sucked him, making him hiss in pleasure, his grip on your skull tightening.

“Fuck, woman,” he managed as you kept sucking him. “Gonna make me come if you keep doin’ that…”

You pulled back from him slowly, his hold on you easing as you did, until he slipped from your mouth, still slick with your spit.

“Should probably stop then,” you said, a little breathless. You took the condom - warm now from the heat of your hand - and put it over his head before rolling it over his thick shaft. You stroked him once, twice and leaned forward again, sucking his tip for a moment when it was in place and his head tipped back, staring at the ceiling as he groaned.

“Jesus,” he panted. “Fuck, you gonna let me inside that soft little pussy of yours or make me come in your mouth?”

You laughed once, needy and low, before pulling yourself backwards on the bed, Joel’s eyes hungry on your body as you went. He shucked his jeans and underwear off before crawling, finally naked, between your thighs. His head brushed against your sex and he took the base of his cock in his hand, trailing his tip up and down your dripping slit before spreading you open for him, your pussy swollen and tender as he did. He put his tip against your dripping entrance, pressed just the very end of him inside, barely opening you to him. His hands moved to your thighs, brushing over them to your knees before trailing back toward your center, his fingers splayed wide over you soft flesh.

“You ready, baby?” He asked, needy.

“Yes,” you breathed. You’d passed ready a long time ago. You were desperate now, aching and all but begging for him to take up every empty space inside your body.

“Good,” he pressed forward until his head was fully inside your tight channel and you both moaned with it, one of your hands finding the smooth skin of your breast and squeezing it. He groaned at the sight as he started fucking just the tip of him into you, rocking in and out of you in short, sharp bursts. “Fuck, there you go baby. Just like that.”

He started feeding you more of his cock then, driving further into you with each stroke until he fucked all the way into you, his hips flush to yours, his thick length stretching you open, the burn of him meshing with the heady pleasure of being so utterly full.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, his cock buried inside you totally. “This pussy… fuck me.”

One of his hands went from your thigh to over your hip coming to rest and the soft swell of the base of your stomach. He spread wide over your skin, his palm swallowing the space over where he was inside of you and pressing down, making you moan as the tight fullness inside you got more intense. His thumb stretched down toward your clit and he started working you there as he just held himself within you, making your cunt throb once around him. He groaned at the feeling.

“That’s right,” he said. “So full of this cock ain’t you baby? Taking me so damn well…”

He kept working your clit for a minute, not moving inside you, just pressing into your skin until you were practically writhing below his touch. He was so big, you were so full, the pleasure in your body so tight. It made your head spin.

“Joel,” your fingers scratched at the blankets. “I need you to move, please, please, please…”

“Please what, pretty girl?” His voice was dark, low.

“Please fuck me,” you begged. “Please, please fuck me, please…”

He drew back then, achingly slow at first, watching where his cock was pressing into you with a hungry look on his face, before thrusting back in, deep and firm.

This, you thought, was why you liked fucking older men. Joel knew what he was doing. He worked your body with expert skill, grinding his cock deep inside so his head pressed against the most sensitive parts of you, the thick drag of him making your back arch and toes curl. He kept rubbing your clit with his thumb, the pressure and pace keeping your pleasure building and building but never quite cascading over the edge.

He kept fucking into you that way until you were desperate, your whole being drawn tight and achy around his cock. He’d stopped watching where your bodies were joined and had moved to your face, his gaze drinking in your desperate little moans and the way your eyes would scrunch closed as you got so close to coming but didn’t quite make it, whimpering as your climax fell just out of reach yet again.

“Got you so tight and needy, hm?” He said, breathless. You just nodded, trying to rock your hips up against him but held in place by his hand on your stomach. “Why don’t you tell me what you need? Tell me exactly what it is you need.”

“To come,” you whimpered. “Fuck, I need to come, you need to let me come, please let me come…”

“Think I’ve been keepin’ you on the edge too long?” He asked. “Think I should let this little pussy come? Let her just milk me dry?”

“Fuck, please,” you begged, not caring if you sounded pathetic. It’s not like you’d see this man again after tonight, anyway.

He took his thumb off your clit but before you had a chance to whimper in protest, he adjusted your legs to drive somehow deeper and leaned over you, pressing his bare skin to yours before kissing your neck, sucking and licking at the tender skin there as he fucked into you, making you whimper, your nails scrabbling over his back. His lips moved from your neck to your ear, his large hand coming to cup the crown of your head, his pace never relenting.

“Come for me,” he whispered, low and needy. “You can come, want you to come, want to feel you come. Just let go for me, just give in to me.”

His hips rocked against your clit, his cock buried so deep and you saw stars for a moment before you cried out, your orgasm hitting you hard after being on the edge of it for so long. It broke your whole body down, muscle clenching desperately, blood rushing, fingers clinging. You felt it everywhere, starting at your core and radiating out in hot, aching waves.

“Goddamn, that’s it,” he fucked you through it as your core fluttered over him. “Just keep comin’ for me, just like that, feeling so damn good baby just…”

He pressed deep as your orgasm started to fade and moaned, the sound going straight to your raw, fucked out cunt. The pulsing of his cock, in you to the root, rolled you into another orgasm, this one less intense but still making your pussy grip him close and tight as he spilled into the condom.

He collapsed on you for a moment as both of your climaxes eased, his chest heaving. Before his weight became too much, he adjusted, rising up enough to kiss you as he slid his softening cock from your body and falling flat on his back on the bed beside you.

“Damn,” you panted after a moment, staring up at the ceiling.

He laughed lightly beside you.

“Know the feelin’.”

You lay there next to each other, listening to each other as your breaths came back into a normal, steady cadence. Goosebumps started to pebble over your skin, the air cold as you were naked without his body on yours, the air conditioner below the window humming along.

You turned your head to look at him and he did the same.

“Should probably go…” his voice trailed off but he sounded reluctant. Or maybe you just hoped he did.

“You don’t have to,” you said, probably a little too quickly for a man you’d just met. Even in the dim light of the moon and the parking lot lights out your window, you could tell he raised his eyebrows. “I’m just… you can stay, if you want. It’s a big bed. Think we can manage it.”

“Wouldn’t want to impose…”

“You’re not,” you said. “You can leave, too, if you’d rather but… don’t feel like you have to rush out.”

He smiled a little.

“Then I’ll stay. I’d like to stay.”

You smiled back, that blissed out and relaxed feeling you had after you came settling over you.

“Good.”

The two of you settled far across the bed from each other at first but drifted quickly, until your head was on his chest and you were curved around his side as his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his fingers trailing up and down your arm until you fell asleep.

He was somehow even more beautiful in the light of day.

You realized it as the two of you went about the strange intimacy of getting ready for the day side by side with someone you didn’t know. He blinked sleep from his eyes when first woke up and stretched his back before getting out of bed, his curls haphazard and messy and his body soft and warm. He got dressed and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it. You offered him your travel toothbrush as you got dressed and he watched you pull on your jeans as he leaned against the bathroom doorframe.

“Been a while since I’ve done this,” he said, a little hesitant.

“Just how long?” You asked, teasing as you pulled on your shirt.

“Longer than I want to admit,” he said, small smile making his cheek dimple. “Long enough that I don’t remember exactly how this is supposed to work but… I’d like to take you to breakfast. If you want.”

You smiled.

“Sure,” you said. “I’d like that.”

Joel walked back to the bar and picked up his truck before taking you to a diner not too far from your hotel. You laughed with him about menu typos and the questionable song choices coming from the speakers over greasy eggs and toast soaked in butter.

“Know we just met,” he said as you were on your fourth cup of coffee and you were both avoiding the fact that you’d have to leave this table and go your separate ways soon. The remains of your hashbrowns had long gone cold, ketchup smeared across the plate and you weren’t ready to say goodbye to him yet. “And that you’re in town for some family thing but… if you’re not busy tonight, would you want to come with me to this party? Buddy of mine is throwin’ in, supposed to be nice. Think he gave me a plus one in hopes I’d actually use it.”

“Damn,” you winced a bit. “I really wish I could but the thing I’m in town for is tonight.”

“Damn’s right,” he smiled a little. “Think you’d be my best shot for a good time at that thing.”

“Yeah, back at you for my thing,” you laughed.

“Here,” he pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it before handing it over. “Put your number in. Maybe we could still get together later…”

You took it but hesitated, thumb tapping on the side of his phone case.

He frowned.

“What?”

“I live hours away,” you said. “Is this really smart?”

He shrugged.

“Don’t really care if it’s smart or not. Just want to see you again. If you’ll let me.”

You smiled a little and shook your head before putting your number in his phone.

“There,” you said, handing it back over. “Let me know when you’re done with your thing. I can think of a few more ways to get some good use out of my hotel room.”

Two more cups of coffee later, Joel dropped you off at your hotel. You kissed him goodbye in the cabin of his truck, moaning against his mouth before pulling away.

“Alright, go before I come back in with you,” he said playfully, reaching across you to open your door.

You laughed.

“Don’t tempt me,” you got out and paused before closing your door, taking one last chance to look him over. “If we don’t see each other again… It was good meeting you.”

“Good meeting you, too,” he said. “But don’t worry. I’ll see you again.”

You went inside, looking back over your shoulder once you were in the lobby, Joel’s truck still sitting near the doors as he waited to make sure you were safely inside.

There was an odd sense of loss in you as you got ready for your parents’ big anniversary party. You hadn’t expected to meet anyone when on your trip back to your hometown, let alone someone you liked so much. You’d been single for a while, doing things alone didn’t really bother you. But now, you felt this tug of desire to have him getting ready beside you where you could help him with his tie and he could zip you into your dress.

But that was stupid. You knew it was stupid. Your job had taken you to Memphis and you liked it there. You weren’t in a rush to move back to your hometown. And Joel had a business here. It wasn’t going to happen. It’d be a lot easier in the long run if you just accepted that now.

You showed up early to the party, your older sister wanting help to get things set up in the tents outside.

“Who all is coming to this shindig anyway?” You asked as you put pictures of your parents out around a guest book near the entrance of the tent.

“Oh, you know,” your sister waved you off.

“Not really,” you said. She gave you a look. “What! I haven’t been home for a family party in… well, it’s been a minute.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been the one doing all the work to help with those for a while,” she said.

“And you’re definitely not bitter about that…”

“Not one bit,” she teased. “But the usual people. The closest neighbors, the aunts and uncles, Mom’s book club, church people, Dad’s friends…”

“Dad has friends?” You gaped at her. “Since when?”

“He’s had friends for years!”

“OK, he’s never had friends,” you said. “Where is he finding friends? Shit’s unnatural…”

“Don’t let them catch you saying shit,” she said. “And there are a few from work, one from this basketball league he joined…”

“Ew,” you crinkled your nose. Your sister laughed.

“Definitely not ew,” she said. “At least not the basketball friend one, he’s weirdly hot, it’s disturbing…”

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste, is there?” You teased.

“You’ll eat those words when you meet the guy,” she said. “Just wait.”

“Whatever you say,” you rolled your eyes, skeptical. You and your sister had never had the same taste in men, you didn’t see any reason for that to have changed.

But still, you were keeping an eye out for this mysterious hot friend of your father’s as people started to arrive for the party. Or trying to, anyway. You kept getting pulled away by distant relatives you hadn’t seen since your cousin’s wedding or to do a favor for your mom as she frantically rushed around trying to take care of everyone while also trying to have fun at the party that was being thrown in her honor.

Everything was in full swing when you heard your father call your name from across the large, increasingly full tent. He waved you over, leaning around a man he was talking to, and you worked your way around the dance floor, trying not to think about how much you’d like to have a date at this damn thing - how much you’d like to have Joel as your date at this damn thing - when you froze beside your dad. The man standing next to him was devastatingly familiar, even from behind. Tallest man in the room, broad shoulders, thick curls. Your heart beat faster.

“Hey honey,” your dad said, tugging you closer. “Want you to meet my friend. Joel, this is my youngest that I’ve told you so much about.”

He turned around, a beer bottle in his hand a smile on his face that fell the moment he saw you. Your dad was saying something else but you didn’t hear it, too busy staring at the man who had been inside you less than 24 hours earlier.

The man who had you thinking about what life alongside another person would be like.

The man who was apparently your father’s friend.

“Hi,” he said after your dad had stopped talking. You hadn’t noticed.

“Hi,” you said, still staring at him.

Fuck, you were in trouble.

A/N: Here's whatever this is. He's unhinged, I don't know what's happening to the Joels who live in my head lately but they're just going crazy up there. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Love you!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic #dbf!joel x reader

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awfcspencer · 3 months

Note

reader feels ugly and just upset and leah comforts? pure fluff I beg xx

Don’t Listen To Them || leah williamson x reader

prompt: requested! Social media can be a cruel, cruel place.

warnings: self confidence issues

a/n: hope you enjoy it! happy v-day to those who celebrate <33

Inside your shared home, you and Leah decided to stay in and build a charcuterie board as a snack before you both cuddle up together and watch a film. For dinner, Leah had lit some candles and put on some slow music while she watched you cook her favorite chicken alfredo pasta recipe. The both of you decided to pop a bottle of red wine as a nice way to end the jampacked week. Dinner was relaxing, enjoying one another’s company and talking about miscellaneous topics. Leah cleaned up the reminiscent of dinner as you began on the board. Organizing the charcuterie board was pretty simple, you had found a Pinterest photo to recreate, and Leah had accompanied you to the grocery store to collect the items you would need.

Placing the finishing touches on the board, you grabbed your phone located on the other side of the kitchen island. The board had taken you a lot longer than you assumed it would, but you wanted it to be perfect, so you found yourself examining the picture intricately and making sure everything was placed exactly.

Leah had become bored roughly about 10 minutes into creating the board, she paced back and forth around the kitchen and occasionally sighed loudly to really get the point across that she was bored.

“Wait let me take a photo first Lee,” As you swat her hand away for what felt like the hundredth time tonight from the perfectly aligned board that she had been secretly picking at each time you would set a row of crackers or stack of pepperonis in place. Each time she would eat off the board, you would have to replace the food and scold her. It was like baking a cake with a toddler who would lick frosting off the spoon when you weren’t looking.

“Oh silly me how could I forget Instagram eats first.” Rolling her eyes and grabbing the remote in the living room to put on a movie. “Mamma Mia tonight?” It was always a go-to in the home. You loved the cute little plot and Leah liked singing the ABBA songs loudly in your ear.

“Perfect idea baby,” nodding your head towards the blonde. Carefully balancing the food in your left hand as you make your way towards the couch after you took the perfect photo. Then remembering that you have to get back up and grab the two red wine glasses the two of you had been nursing before. Placing yourself between the defender’s long legs on the L-shaped couch, leaning backwards into her as she placed her head on your shoulder, placing a few kisses in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish Williamson.” Whispering as you kissed her now reddened cheeks.

You grabbed a few of the pepperoni’s and tossed them into your mouth, reaching your hand back and allowing Leah to have a few after she made a toddler-like gesture and a huff indicating that she wanted one.

“I sometimes think you are a 26-year-old stuck in a toddler’s body.” All night Leah had managed to find some way to annoy or antagonize you, all in fun though.

Pretending to be offended, “Well toddlers don’t cuddle so maybe I should get up.” Making a move to get up and sit on the opposite side of the couch.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t get up, I am comfy, and you are warm.” You plead out in a joking manner, turning towards her placing a kiss on the tip of her nose as you forced her back down to her original position.

“So nice to me now but less than 30 seconds ago you were mean.” Folding her arms across her body and a stern look on her face. You wanted to make a comment about the state of which is looked right now, how it was so toddler-like, but you refrained, settling with a loud laugh.

“Momentary lapse of character” Reaching out to grab a peace treaty as an apology, “Olive?”

“You know the way to my heart, apology accepted.” As she takes it from your grasp and plops it into her mouth, pulling you back closer to her from her previous fake exit as you leaned into her chest.

Opening Instagram to post the pictures you had taken throughout the night. “Do you want me to tag you?” Organizing the selected photos on the screen and applying final touches on the photos. Ending it by adding a song in the background that had been playing when Leah grabbed you away from the masterpiece you had been creating and pulled you in for a quick salsa twirl and leaned you backwards and placed a kiss on your lips.

“Yeah so I can repost it” as she watched you create the post. You and Leah had been seeing each other for a few months, baking in the privacy for a bit before you let the whole world know. Each week that had passed, you and Leah got less and less subtle, performing a ‘soft launch’ through similar locations but different angles or the way she would repost your stories. This specific collection of photos was new though as it featured a slide of a side profile of Leah looking down at the board. It also had only 2 dinner plates, 2 sets of silverware, and 2 wine glasses in one of the photos, indicating it was in fact a date.

The fans had started to catch on and for the most part, the reactions had been mostly positive. Opposite of your life, Leah’s life was in the spotlight. Everything she did, everything she said, and everywhere she went was documented on some sort of social media outlet. Your account had maybe a few thousand followers, most of them you had gained from when Leah first started reposting your posts. So this post would set in stone that you and Leah were officially an item.

Clicking upload and then facing your phone downward on the table, cuddling backwards more into Leah with your back into her chest. Baking in her warm body, strong arms, and vanilla scent. “Omg who is this beautiful blonde in the third slide?” Gushing over herself as she quickly reposts your photos and places her phone next to yours, pulling you in tighter. “Always so humble Lee” gently swatting her on the thigh as she clicked play.

Every few minutes throughout the movie, your phone would go off, a little buzz that at first you just assumed was a few Instagram likes but after what felt like your phone was vibrating every second, you untangle slightly from Leah and grab your phone.

Your post had over 100,000 likes and several comments from people who you definitely did not know. You scroll casually through the notifications on your device. A few negative comments stuck out to you and when you opened the app, you were greeted with hundreds more.

‘Can’t believe she is dating THE Leah Williamson.’

‘Leah definitely downgraded.’

Several comments simply just said, ‘ugly’. The hurtful comments went on and on.

Private accounts and faceless profiles, people would say anything they desired behind a screen when there were no direct consequences. Harsh words that initially you were able to push to the side, but each one that you read dug a little deeper. The response was overwhelming, there were new comments each minute, and almost none of them were nice. It hurt and each one you read felt more real. You could feel the tears coming, the emotions coming out, so you briefly excused herself saying you needed to use the restroom, desperately hoping that the way your voice cracked was unnoticeable.

The words felt true as you locked eyes in the mirror with yourself. Where you enough to be with someone like Leah? I mean she was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, and what were you? Staring at yourself in the mirror you noticed each and every blemish, freckle, or pore on your face, and the tears began to fall. The grey sweatsuit that you had initially put on for the chill date now felt ugly on your frame, you wanted to rip the clothes off. Someone who was dating Leah Williamson wouldn’t wear such an ugly outfit.

Back on the couch, Leah was beginning to get worried at the amount of time you had been gone. The part Leah knew was your favorite was coming up so she reached for the remote on the coffee table to pause it so you could enjoy it when you returned. In attempting to pause the movie, she noticed your phone open on your Instagram comment section. The vulgar comments made her sick. They were piling in with each minute that passed, and she felt angry, but then she felt sad. She quickly left the couch and rushed to the bathroom, desperately hoping that maybe the pasta didn’t sit right, or you were busy washing your hands.

A soft knock on the door took your eyes off the mirror. “Hey babe, you all good in there?” the blonde questioned. Leah’s heart was beating out of her chest because she had heard the soft sniffles from outside the door as she walked up to it. She knew you had read the comments. She wanted to run in and immediately convince you that not a single one of those comments were true, but she didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“Don’t come in.” You didn’t mean to scream at her, you weren’t angry with her, but you did not want her to see you like this, your makeup now smeared and tears freely falling from your eyes. You quickly locked the door and rushed to the opposite side of the bathroom. She would break up with you, she would realize the comments were true, you were ugly. You were fidgeting with your hair, a trait you’ve had since primary school when you got overwhelmed or nervous, it was a way to calm down.

“Baby please let me in, nothing any of those comments said is true. Nothing.” She pleaded, hoping she could convince you to let her in. She wanted to pull you into a big hug and say anything and everything she could to help you see that nothing they said was true or how she felt.

“You don’t mean that.” Your head was clouded, only being able to replay each and every comment in your brain. Your eyes continued to shift uncontrollably across different sections of your face or body that you felt ashamed of in the mirror.

“I love the way your baby hairs stand out even though you try and try to brush them down in the morning. I love the little crinkle in your nose when you get annoyed or confused about something. I love the way your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth when you are trying to focus really hard on something. I love your freckles, every single one, especially when you get some sun and they especially become vibrant. I love the way you lick your lips before you speak. I love the way each time you laugh or smile I can see the indent on your cheeks of your dimples even though you try and claim you don’t have them. I love the way you twirl your hair into curls when you get stressed. I love your eyes, it is like I can see a sparkle in them when you look at something you love. I love the way you close your eyes sometimes because you say it helps you think more clearly. I love you baby, every single inch of you. Those comments do not know you like I know you. They do not see how truly beautiful you are to me,” the compliments gushing out of Leah like it was second nature, truly meaning each and every word.

There was silence on your side of the door, taking in what Leah said. A click of the door as you unlocked it and Leah rushed in and to your side immediately. You sobbed into the defender’s chest as she rubbed large circles on your back.

“Thank you, Lee, really.” Your breathing had returned to normal and your heart no longer felt like it was racing. You felt safe and loved in the blonde's embrace.

“It is only you baby, you are my love. Don’t listen to them,” pulling you in tighter and placing a soft kiss on your temple as she forced you to look her in the eyes. She took her thumb and brushed over the final tears that escaped your eye.

“I can’t believe I let social media get to me, this is so stupid. I’m sorry for crying and for ruining our date,” your voice no louder than a whisper as you look down at the bathroom tile.

She forces your head back up with a finger under your chin, “It’s not stupid baby. I get it, it can be a lot. But anytime you feel like it all gets too much, I want you to talk to me. I want to know. And you never need to apologize to me, and certainly not for crying baby.”

Another wave of silence fell over the bathroom. The two of you are still huddled in each other's arms, swaying slightly left and right as you come down from the major wave of emotions previously.

"I'm pretty sure we still have mint chocolate ice cream from last week," she quietly whispered, a small upward quirk of her lip that turned into a soft smile. She knew it was your favorite and that you rarely let yourself keep it inside the household because you would easily eat a whole pint. You matched her grin, locking her fingers with yours, and pulled her towards the kitchen.

Two spoons and one large bowl of ice cream was shared between the two of you. Leah had made the final touches by adding chocolate syrup and way too much whipped cream. You took your pointer finger to swipe the white cream and tapped Leah on the nose.

"Who is acting like a toddler now?" wiping her nose with a nearby napkin as you shrugged and placed another large bite into your mouth.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso #woso soccer #woso blurbs #womens soccer #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #awfc #arsenal women

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aaagustd · 11 months

Text

greedy | jeon jungkook (m)

title: greedy

pairing: jeon jungkook x (f)reader

genre/rating: established relationship, smut, mature/explicit

summary: he gives, you take. you want more? he gives you more. it’s simple.

warnings: just smut, dirty talk, Dom/sub undertones, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, size kink, cervix touching and belly bulging, cum shot, cum play, biting, that should be all

wc: 561

release date: june 30, 2023; 10:34 pm est

note: it's not proofread too well. i tried my best though lol. hope it's good. div cr.

also available on ao3

It was supposed to be movie night—a quiet romantic evening in your living room cuddling with your boyfriend—but that didn’t last.

“So deep… Need to cum.”

Jungkook ignores your cries. You begged for this, and he reminds you of that.

“You should be careful about what you ask for, baby. No mercy, remember?”

He says this while he watches his arousal-coated dick enter and exit your cunt, fucking you like it’s the last fuck of his life.

Your boyfriend knows you’re close. He can feel the tell-tale sign—you squeezing him like a vice—of another wave of euphoria building inside you. But Jungkook wants you to hold on just a little longer.

This time, he wants both of you to reach the peak together.

Closing your eyes, your lids provide a blanket of darkness thick enough to distract you from the irresistible urge. You pray he finishes soon, as this will only do for so long.

“You need to open your eyes” — Jungkook clenches the flesh of the ankle thrown over his broad shoulder between his teeth — “so you can see how much this pussy loves me.”

Your response is a nod; followed by a jumble of words your lips swiftly dish out in your hazy state, not wanting Jungkook to deny you. He soothes your skin with the pad of his thumb before he averts his gaze to your body.

“Right here, huh?” he whispered.

The warmth of his left palm presses your stomach gently, and he pauses. You prop your upper body on your elbows and watch in awe as the outline of his dick pierces your cervix. There’s so much of him, but you take every inch. If he had more, you’d take that as well.

He makes you watch, and you do it shamelessly. That’s how greedy you are for your man—needy for him—because you can never really get enough of him.

Luckily, he fills you up every time like no one else can.

Jungkook's eyes darken at the sound of you moaning his name, fueling his desire to ruin you right here on your living room couch.

“Feels so good. It’s so big. I… I wanna—”

“Cum?” His assumptions are correct. You plead with him again, and this time you aren’t denied. “You can, baby.”

“Fuck,” you rejoiced.

Jungkook thrusts into you faster, making the top of your head hit the armrest each time he lodges his dick inside your guts. You can feel your muscles tightening as the pressure in your core returns. Soon, your boyfriend’s movements become sporadic. He no longer can resist your warmth and wetness. His voice is rough when he speaks.

“Here I come,” he grunted.

You know what that means. Your hands grip the sofa’s cushions as you brace yourself. Jungkook uses his last bit of energy targeting your g-spot until the coil tightening within your center finally snaps and sends you spiraling into a rapturous high.

Whiteness clouds your vision, and only Jungkook’s angelic voice keeps you in touch with reality. His gentle tone and assuring words calm you down just in time to witness him dumping his load on your sensitive cunt.

He uses his fingers to spread it all over your inner thighs, and once he’s done playing in his sticky mess you meet each other’s gaze.

Damn.

That is the only word either of you can say.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #jungkook fics #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #aaagustd.fics

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kaceythecrunch · 2 months

Text

・┆Night. ☾ M.S┆ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

FLUFF. FLUFF. FLUFF. FLUFFFFFFFFFFFF

Summary : you and Matt doing your nightly routine!

W/C : 1.2k+

Y/N'S POV :

9:30

Currently, spinning around on my boyfriend’s gaming chair. As I sit upon his chair, I'm scrolling through edits of Matt, per usual. Until I was interrupted by his faint breathing on my shoulder.

“AAH. WHAT THE FUCK.” I yell, frantically closing tiktok. He looks at me, then my phone, then back to me. I could tell he was slightly concerned. “You’re such a weirdo for watching edits of me. I mean the editors are pretty talented. They also help me, Nick and Chris–”

I laugh as he continues on his yapping. Usually, I don't interrupt him when he's yapping because I know he doesn’t get to run his mouth sometimes. “Alright Mr.Yapper, ya’ ready to go to bed??” he closed his eyes. I could tell he was tired.

“Can you help me, I'm too tired.” he says in a sleepy voice. “You want me to do your skincare for you??” He usually doesn’t like when I do stuff for him because apparently, “I apply it wrong.” He nods.

I get up from his chair, holding his hands as I drag him to our bathroom. I sit on the counter and start reaching for the skin care. “Wait. Before that. Can you shave my beard for me? I'm tired of beard-Matt right now.” I laugh at his statement. “No more big beard bernard.” I say, as I make fun of him. I glide my fingers on his tattoos as he looks at me unamused.

I grab one of my headbands and put it around Matt. Of course, I picked the best one I have. The one with kitty cat ears. “What the fuck is this shit.” he looks in the mirror disgusted. “It's just a headband.” I say, looking at him. “It looks so distorted..Why not pick a normal one.” he asks. “You look cute in it, shut up.”

“OKAY. Now, lemme start.” I grab the shaving cream and squirt it all on my hands. I turn to Matt as he is leaning on the sink. Propping himself up with his hands. I bring the shaving cream to his cheeks and glide my fingers on his face. Making sure everything gets covered. I laugh at him as he is scrunching his face.

I grab the razor and gently shave off his beard. His face scrunches even more. “Hey, stop moving Matt! I don’t wanna cut you!” He opens his eyes slightly, not wanting to move his mouth. Even if he was only opening his eyes, I could easily tell what he was trying to say.