#friday night big screen gifs

[crankygrrl]

Went to see ARGYLLE tonight and it is magnificently, purposefully, gloriously dumb and I had a very good time.

Decidedly cis-straight (although the end suggests squinting at Argylle) so be aware if that is an issue for you but very much a fluffy, fun movie in which Bryce Dallas Howard, Henry Cavill, and Samuel L. Jackson are having a Very Good Time. Sam Rockwell is also having a good time, I think, but he continues to do nothing for me and I kind of wish John Cena and Rockwell had switched parts.

Definitely not for those who take their spy movies seriously (but that raises the question as to why you are watching spy movies in the first place). Definitely for anyone who felt that Bryce Dallas Howard could have solved the whole dinosaur thing if Chris Pratt had just gotten out of her way.

[sometimesanalice]

Bedside Manner

Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.

It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.

The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.

“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.

Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.

But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.

Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.

All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.

Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.

Normally.

But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss. 

“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.

You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.

The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.

You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.

It was supposed to be a fun day.

You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.

There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.

You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.

The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.

The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.

Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.

You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.

Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.

And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.

You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.

He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.

“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.

And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.

When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.

“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.

You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.

You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.

“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”

You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.

“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.

“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.

“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”  

Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.

Respectfully, of course.

Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.

“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.

“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.

You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.

And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.

You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.

And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.

Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.

He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.

Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.

But he’s never made a move.

If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.

You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.

Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.

The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.

The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.

Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.

And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.  

You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.

You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.

Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.

The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.

You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.

The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.

Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.

The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.

For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.

It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.

Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.

And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.

“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.

They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.

It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.

It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.

You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.

There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.

You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.

As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.

“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.

They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.

Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.

Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.

His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.

You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.

“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.

“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.

“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.

“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.

The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.

And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.

Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.

The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.

Just not like this.

With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.

Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.

Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.

Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”

“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.

“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.

“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.

You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.

She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.

“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.

“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.

You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.

And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.

The two of you silent and motionless.

You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.

His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.

“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.

“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”

Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.

“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.

You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.

He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.

All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.

You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.

This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.

You want the Bradley from earlier. 

The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.

The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.

You want your Bradley.

The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.

The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.

You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.

For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”

We.

You wanted that with him.

You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together?  You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.

The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.

Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.

When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.

“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.

“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.

Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.

“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.

He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.

It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.

He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.

It’s never felt this strained with him before.

It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.

Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.

He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.

He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.

“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.

“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”

“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.

You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?

He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.

“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”

“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”

“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.

“Ok, good,” he grumbles.

“Great,” you lob back.

His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.

“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.

“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.

A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”

Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.

You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.

Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.

“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.

“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.

And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.

“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.

He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.

“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day.  I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.

Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.

“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”

He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.

“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.

The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.

“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.

Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”

The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.

“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”

“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”

You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.

“Bradley, the light.”

The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.

“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.

“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.

“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.

Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.

He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.

The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.

“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.

“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.

The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.

“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.

He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.

“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.

“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.

He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”

“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.

“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.

Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.

He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.

There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.

“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”

“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”

“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”

“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.

“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.

“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.

“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.

“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.

“Done.”

“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.

“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”

“And then you’ll kiss me?”

“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.

He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.

“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.

“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”

“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”

“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“Guess we will,” he rasps.

Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.

You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.

There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.

You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.

Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.

You’ve got that forever feeling about him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.

This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!

The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[themidnightcrimson]

skirt ࿏ wm

summary: in which wanda gets a little too handsy during a small party.

words: 4.5k

warnings: top!wanda, fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex, severely gay ogling, reader being a fuckin simp

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

Steve had unfortunately complained to Tony that the parties he always held in his huge, modern, techno mansion were not intimate enough. Tony, always ready to take complaints from Steve with a cheeky attitude, passed the message along to Pepper who decided to truly make something cozier for everyone.

Tony’s parties were pretty much bi-weekly at this point, every other Friday night. The team almost always showed up in entirety, and the regularity of it was becoming sentimental to some of you. Even Tony was starting to plan them: “You guys gotta try this whiskey. I’ll bring it next Friday” or “I swear, Cap, I’m gonna put you in a suit on Friday and shoot you up to Mars.” It was cute.

Tonight, instead of drinking and playing poker around Tony’s in-house bar room, Pepper had set up something beautiful outside. You’d arrived at the party with Nat, stepping through the back patio of Tony’ mansion and seeing something set up in his backyard. Tied between two trees was a large white screen, and several yards in front of it was a projector mounted onto the roof of the patio, pointed right towards the screen.

In front of the screen, on the lush, freshly-trimmed grass yard, was a whole bunch of pillowy chairs with blankets cast over them, set up like little cots. To the side of the arena was a little hot dog stand that also had a big red and golden popcorn machine currently popping popcorn attached to its hip, as well as a large futuristic-looking cooler full of ice and bottled drinks. There was even an attachment on the front of the hot dog stand with an array of candy bars.

Strung above the entire arena were strings of fairy lights going in every direction, tied between trees and the railing of the patio porch. The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but they were already turned on, providing cute little lights above the cozy scene. It was the homiest thing you’d ever seen at Tony’s home.

“My god,” Nat remarked as she looked around, looking as shocked as you. “It looks like Tony’s planning on proposing to all of us at the same time tonight.”

“I would say yes,” Banner said, coming up beside you and gawking up at the lights. He ran down the steps of the patio and towards one of the fluffy chairs made of pillow, throwing himself down on it and squishing it to the ground. You could hear his sigh of comfort from the patio.

“Do you guys like it?” Pepper asked, coming out of the house. “There’s more food and snacks inside if you guys want anything that’s not out there.”

“I feel like I’m experiencing my first American sleepover,” Nat said, turning to Pepper. “It’s great, really!”

It was cute seeing Nat get so excited like that. Steve showed up behind Pepper and had the same reaction as everyone else, even tearing up a little bit. When Tony reluctantly entered the patio, Steve gave him a slap on the shoulder. “This is really great, Tony. Really great.”

Tony tightly smiled and quickly went back into the house to avoid any more sentiment.

Since the few of you were the first to arrive, you all stayed on the porch and made conversation while waiting for everyone else to show up. It was a chilly spring night, the wind picking up and every once in a while catching the black skirt you were wearing. It was that annoying time of year, of course, where you would have been sweating during the day but now you were shivering at night. You wished you had worn pants instead of a skirt. You didn’t know you’d be thanking yourself later for the opposite.

You had been discreetly waiting for someone the entire time. As more people lingered through the back door into the backyard, you nervously glanced at each figure and hoped it’d be the one you wanted it to be, but it never was.

And then you knew. You didn’t see her, or hear her name, or any other evidence that she was there other than the fact that the pit in your stomach grew and there was a tingling sensation across your nerve endings. The witch always had that affect on you. You didn’t know if it was a spell or something, or maybe you were just acting like a crush-stricken schoolgirl, but you had a habit of always knowing when Wanda entered a room.

Surely enough, through the tinted windows lining the back porch, you could see a flash of red hair making its way towards the back door, that smile you had memorized greeting people as she stepped between them. A shiver crawled its way up your lower spine as the door opened and that face stepped through, the one you’ve been dreaming about, the one that haunts you, the one that twists your stomach into knots when you see it because it makes you think of all the times you’ve touched yourself with that face in mind.

Wanda stepped onto the porch, her hair in wavy locks down her shoulders. She was wearing a soft, light pink sweater that probably looked like off-white to everyone else in the dusk light, but you paid enough attention to know it was pink. It matched the gentle pink in her cheeks, and in her lips…

You and Wanda’s…”situation” was only just blossoming. After months and months of tense friendship and subtle flirting, you’d finally broken the ice when you’d shared a drunken makeout session at one of the parties. You found Wanda to be much bolder than you’d expected her to be, but it invigorated you so. She knew how to keep you on the edge but give you enough to keep you satisfied. She hadn’t fucked you yet, though she’s gotten close. You’ve felt her mouth, and her thigh, but she hadn’t touched you with her hands yet. Her hands.

It was embarrassing when Nat had to snap you out of it. You’d been staring at Wanda since she’d entered the backyard space and got caught up in a conversation with someone else on her way to greet you. You weren’t even sure if she’d seen you yet, but with how sly the witch was, you were sure she was fully aware of everything.

“Hey, you’ve got a little drool there,” Nat said, motioning to her own chin while looking at yours. You blushed and rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath and turning your back on Wanda. Even though she still hadn’t looked at you, you swore you could feel her eyes burning into your back.

“Shut up,” you whispered, crossing your arms and shivering slightly in the cold.

Like clockwork, you suddenly felt a warm arm wrap itself around your shoulders. God, you even recognized her touch now.

Looking up, you saw Wanda appear beside you, her arm slung over your shoulder and pulling you into her gently. You felt the softness of her sweater and her hair against your arm as you were overcome with her cologne. It was sweet but deep, and it made you melt every time you smelled it because it reminded you of all your moments with her.

Wanda smiled down at you, and you half-expected her to lean down for a kiss, but she didn’t. You weren’t public yet, though Nat knew the extent of it, and everyone else had just assumed. They all thought that if you weren’t fucking, it was at least obvious that Wanda wanted to, and no one would dare get in the way of that. This was all without your knowledge, of course, because you were innocent and naïve and thought that no one had any clue about it except for Nat. That was one thing that Wanda liked about you.

“Hey there,” Wanda smoothly said in almost a whisper. Every time you get close to her for the first time, you feel like you’re seeing her for the first time all over again. Her sparkling green eyes, soft lips turned in a self-assured smile, structured cheekbones, her cute little nose. It all made you swoon like a schoolgirl.

“Hi,” you squeaked, feeling your face get hot all over.

Wanda gave a breathy chuckle, obviously picking up on your little squeak. She gave a little space between you for a moment to let her eyes rake down over your figure. They landed at your hips, and her smile faded, turning almost crooked for a moment before she licked her lips and pursed them. “Hmmmm,” she hummed, pulling you into her again, a little tighter now. “You look so fucking good,” she hissed, leaning down towards your ear. You felt her breath fan against your ear, and then her lips grazed it, before she turned away, stiffening as if trying to hold something in. You watched her jaw flex, the muscles straining in her swan neck as she inhaled deeply.

You weren’t sure what exactly was going through the witch’s mind, but your body was burning all over. It almost pained you how you always had such a physical reaction to Wanda.

Wanda did not let go of you. Even as she lingered around the patio, even as people came up and made conversation, she kept you under her arm like her own pet bunny. You felt safe like that, tucked into Wanda, letting her lead the conversations while you just leaned against her soft sweater and inhaled her sweet perfume. The duality of Wanda’s gentle physique but domineering nature made your head dizzy.

Wanda was like a bee to honey to you for the entire time that you and everyone else waited for the party’s population to be dense enough to start a movie on the large projector screen. Finally, once the sun had set and only left an orange streak at the bottom of the sky, Tony came back out onto the patio and, fully equipped in his suit, stuck his hands out to the side and levitated up towards the projector. Halting mid-air, the face of the suit flipped away to reveal Tony’s face.

“Greetings and welcome to the lamest party Tony Stark has ever thrown,” Tony announced, earning several laughs throughout the small crowd of people before flipping the projector on and flying away.

Light illuminated onto the screen, and an old black-and-white Hollywood movie began playing on the screen. People made their way over to the little cots set out on the lawn, while some stayed on the patio pretending to be the adult part of the crowd.

“Want some snacks?” Wanda whispered in your ear, to which you gave a dumb nod, too focused on the way her hand slid down to your waist and gripped it.

Wanda led you over the little hot dog stand that shone like a beacon in the darkening lawn, apart from the light from the movie. You were about to tell Wanda that you wanted popcorn and Skittles, but she somehow beat you to it. “A bag of popcorn and some Skittles,” she told the guy behind the stand. Nodding, he began to load up a bag of buttery popcorn as you looked up at Wanda in confusion to how she knew what you wanted.

Mind-reading can be useful in many ways, kitten.

You thought Wanda had spoken, since you had heard her voice, but her lips didn’t even move and her voice sounded like it was behind you. Your eyes widened in realization that Wanda was using mind-reading on you for the first time—though it actually was about the hundredth time that she’d pried in on your cerebral. It was the telepathic communication that was happening for the first time, but she thought your confusion on the terms was cute.

“Thanks,” Wanda told the guy as he handed you the warm bag of popcorn. She took a bag of Skittles and two bottles of soda and placed her hand on your lower back, her warm palm ushering you towards a cot in front of the screen.

She decided to choose one a little off to the side, spaced out more from any others. It was a double, basically a large pillow in the shape of a chair that could hold two people.

“This is so fun!” you exclaimed, hopping down on the cot and sighing at how soft it was, understanding now why Banner was so relaxed when he had jumped onto one. There was even a little basket beside the chair that held a large, fluffy blanket folded up. Pepper had truly gone all out.

Wanda plopped down beside you, her warm body instantly melting into yours as her weight into the pillowy chair dipped you down closer to her. The redistribution of weight had moved you in a way that your skirt hiked up your legs.

Wanda’s eyes flickered to your skirt, her pupils swarming. You blushed and pulled your skirt down to cover yourself, discreetly watching Wanda blink and force herself to look away. She leaned back in the chair, snaking her arm behind you and curling it around your waist, which only deepened the blush on your cheeks.

Reaching towards your lap, Wanda took a piece of popcorn from the bag you held between your legs and popped it into her mouth. You took a piece and moved it towards your mouth, but suddenly her hand stopped you.

“Nuh uh,” she said quietly, taking the popcorn from between your fingers. “Let me do it.”

You froze, staring at her face that was so close. It was illuminated by the projection on the screen, her green eyes darker than usual.

“Open your mouth,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips. There was a hunger in her eyes as she watched you hesitate before slowly opening your lips, your heart beating twice faster in your chest. Wanda brought the popcorn to your mouth, letting your tongue take it. You were surprised when, as you felt the texture of the popcorn on your tongue and the butter flooded your taste buds, the tips of Wanda’s fingers lingered in your mouth. As you attempted to close your lips, they only closed around her fingers, tasting the extra salt left behind on them. Your face grew red and hot as you watched Wanda smirk, pushing her fingers in just a miniscule bit further, her own lips parting in infatuation as she watched your lips suction around her fingers.

“Good girl,” she whispered, slowly dragging her fingers out of your mouth.

As if nothing happened, as if you weren’t sitting there blushing and sweating and feeling the space between your legs get warm, she went back to simply eating the popcorn and staring up at the screen.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to stop staring at this blasted woman who just teased you so easily and tried to focus on the movie.

Wanda’s handsy-ness wasn’t too extreme during the first half of the movie. It was only her arm around your waist, her hand rubbing your back sensually, her fingers softly combing through your hair and pulling on it hard once or twice just to get a squeak out of you, to which she pressed a discreet kiss to your neck. It was like she was just playing with you. It was like she was just playing with her food.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie, when there was no sight of any sunlight in the dark night sky, that Wanda strengthened her moves on you.

Under the pretty fairy lights, as everyone else started to calm down and really settle into the movie, a chilly night breeze sewed itself through the air. It flittered over your exposed legs, causing you to shiver. Wanda, who’d been trying not to ogle your thighs all night, couldn’t help but see the goosebumps on your tender skin.

“You cold?” she asked in a soft, sweet tone. When you nodded, she reached over to the basket and brought out the large, thick blanket, draping it over the both of your laps. The warm, soft blanket was such a relief to your cold legs, and with Wanda’s body also available to you as a heater, you felt so cozy and safe.

Then Wanda’s hand reached under the blanket and rested on your thigh, her palm curving around it. The action made you stiffen, your skin growing exponentially warmer where her hand touched. The intimacy of the action sent shimmers through you, and you tried to beat back the little smile on your face.

Wanda, on the other hand, was trying not to smirk. She was more purposeful than you gave her credit for, but again, your naivety was what fueled her to see just how much she could get away with.

You were trying your hardest to ignore her hand on your thigh until it suddenly shifted upwards, pushing your skirt up with it. You gasped quietly. Her hand was all the way up your thigh now, gripping your flesh firmly. Her fingers were wrapped into the inner most tender part of your thigh, pressing into the soft skin there.

The heat between your legs amplified with how close Wanda was to it. You couldn’t help but nervously glance around, afraid that somehow someone had seen her hand grab your thigh under the thick blankets. Luckily, no one was looking. The closest person to you was Nat, but she was watching the film with her head tilted and arms crossed, obviously trying to analyze it like she did with most films.

“Wanda,” you whispered, glancing up at her to see that she was already staring at you darkly.

“What, princess?” she asked innocently.

The name struck you like a bullet of white hot fire in the pit of your stomach. She watched you seriously, a smirk twitching the corners of her lips, as she tightened her grip on your thigh. It stung a little, her fingertips digging so hard into that sensitive inner flesh of your thigh, that you almost squeaked.

“If you want to make noises for me, then do it, babygirl,” she lilted, and you almost gasped when her hand slipped fully under your skirt. You squirmed a little, but she looked at you threateningly. “Don’t move.”

Your breathing grew heavy as you looked around again, feeling that for sure someone was looking this time. No one was.

No one will see, detka.

Wanda’s voice was in your head again. You sharply turned to look at her, but she was staring at the screen now.

Suddenly, you felt something under the covers spreading your thighs open. You hadn’t even realized you’d been squeezing them together, but as you looked down at the blanket, you saw a hint of red glaring through it as your legs spread themselves wide open. She was using magic to open you up for her. Out of impulse, you tried to slam them shut, but her magic held you there, the red glare dissipating so as to not draw attention to what was happening beneath the blanket.

Be still.

You bit your lip as you felt Wanda’s hand cup you under your skirt, her palm pressing into your fabric-covered core. Your breath quivered out of both nervousness and pleasure when she found your clit through your panties and slowly rubbed it.

I can feel how wet you are through your panties, princess. Her voice was even husky in your head.

You tried to keep still as Wanda rubbed your sensitive nub, looking around again to see that still no one was looking at you. But the fact that anyone could look over at the wrong moment, see part of Wanda’s arm stretched towards your lap under the blanket, seeing shapes inappropriately moving under the fabric, instilled a sense of fear into you that seemed to propel your desire.

Good girl, just keep being still for me. I know how bad you’ve been wanting this. You’ve dreamed so much of my fingers.

God, how did she know? Had she been spying on you?

Her fingers dipped down your fabric-covered slit, tickling there for a moment and feeling the wet spot forming on your panties. You were soaking by now, you could feel it, and it only got worse when Wanda started to push your panties to the side.

You started to open your mouth to tell her no, that she shouldn’t do that in front of everyone at a party, that anyone could look over and see and that it’d be so embarrassing, but her voice was quick to reprimand you.

So what if someone sees? I’ll let anyone know that you’re all mine.

With that, her fingers successfully slipped under the thin, stretchy fabric of your panties and met your soaking cunt. You heard Wanda let out a tense breath as she seeped her fingers through your sopping folds, her jaw flexing again.

You’re so fucking wet, babygirl. Her voice growled within your head, dizzying you.

You glanced around nervously, almost thinking someone was looking at you, but finding that no one was still. You felt so nervous about it, so paranoid, but your feverishness was mostly just from Wanda’s fingers rubbing your bare clit now, moving your wetness all around.

I’ve been wanting to feel your pretty cunt for so long. You just had to wear this slutty little skirt tonight, hmm?

Heat burned throughout you as Wanda’s fingers moved towards your entrance, circling it. You stiffened a little, not knowing exactly what to expect from her. You had to force yourself to not gyrate against her hand, to not turn to her and beg for her to just do it, to not moan out loud. It was especially hard not to do the last thing when Wanda’s fingers thrusted inside you.

“Oh—” you started, until Wanda’s magic snapped your mouth shut. Wanda went completely still, freezing completely. You took a blushing, nervous glance around and nearly died when your eyes made contact with Nat’s eyes.

You froze like a deer in headlights. Nat was staring at you while Wanda’s fingers were inside you for the first time. You were looking her in the eye while your walls clenched around Wanda. You wanted to set yourself on fire.

Fortunately, Nat only gave a casual little head nod and a smile and then turned back to the movie. You knew Nat well enough to know that she wasn’t just pretending that she didn’t see anything. Luckily for you, she really had not noticed anything unusual other than your usual awkwardness around Wanda.

Close call, princess. You almost got found out for being a slut for me.

Taking a shaky breath, your hand crawled around until it found Wanda’s knee under the blanket and gripped it for dear life as she started thrusting her fingers inside you. You tried not to whine at the stretch—it’d been a while for you.

You’re so fucking tight, baby. Wanda’s voice was breathy in your head.

You threw your head back a little as Wanda’s fingers pumped in and out of you, and you could even hear the faint wet sounds coming from under the blanket. It made you feel so dirty, getting fingered like that in front of everyone, and being so wet for it, too.

I knew you were such a slut for me. What if I rip the blanket off right now, hmm? Expose you for spreading your legs for me even in public like a whore?

Gritting your teeth together, you felt Wanda’s two fingers hitting a sweet spot inside you. It was so hard to not buck your hips, to not squirm or moan or do anything but etch claw marks into Wanda’s knee.

And then you felt a more noticeable stretch. Squeezing your eyes shut, you felt Wanda force a third finger into you. This time you couldn’t help it. You threw your head to the side and buried it in Wanda’s chest, letting out a mix between a quiet moan and a sigh that luckily was muffled by Wanda’s sweater. Keeping as still as possible, you inhaled Wanda’s perfume and scratched the fuck out of her knee as she pumped three fingers inside your cunt at an agonizingly slow speed. You knew she would’ve fucked you a lot harder if it weren’t for the sake of being discreet.

“Wanda,” you murmured into her chest, feeling the valley of her breasts from beneath her sweater cushioning your face. “Wanda, I’m close.”

Her fingers were hitting so deep inside you. They were so long, and she was curling them, and she was hitting your sweet spot deep inside, and you could feel your juices dripping down yourself.

Hold it. She commanded.

You didn’t even realize it, but you clamped your teeth around a chunk of her sweater, biting down hard on the thick cable-knit fabric as the woman’s fingers plundered you at a steady pace. You didn’t even know if anyone was looking at you now, and you didn’t even care because your body was starting to tremble as you struggled to not cum all over her fingers.

Finally, when you begged again, she acquiesced with Cum for me, princess.

It took all of your power to not moan out loud as you orgasmed with Wanda’s fingers lodged deep inside you, your walls spasming around them and your hips trembling. She nuzzled her nose against the top of your head and hissed when you bit down on her sweater again and accidentally bit into her breast. She held you still with her spare arm, her fingers deep in you, as you came down from the blinding high.

“That’s it,” she whispered into your hair. “Good girl, just breathe.” You were breathing very hard to make up for not being able to moan. “You were such a good, quiet girl for me, angel.” The praise landed over you like soft kisses until you realized she was also pressing soft kisses to the top of your head.

It didn’t help that, when you had finally calmed down and Wanda pulled her shiny fingers out of you, she popped them into her mouth and sucked off all of your cum. You blushed and dug your face into her chest again, this time purposefully biting her breast which made her hiss again and then giggle evilly.

Luckily, no one had seen you get fingered by Wanda, at least not to your knowledge. Nothing had ever come out of it, at least, except that Tony spread a rumor that you had peed yourself during the party because when you stood up from the chair at the end of the night, there was a wet spot right under where you had been sitting.

[jenosbigtoe]

brother’s best friend!lee jeno x reader

minors dni

summary: your overprotective big brother's best friend is just too irresistible. too bad you have to keep your relationship a secret from him. established relationship au!

warnings: jeno is a freak lowkey, creampie, breeding kink, possessiveness, unprotected sex, size kink (if you squint), mating press, jeno fat cock, jeno is a simp, squirting, pussy eating, literally just pwp

wordcount: 2.4k

a/n: intentional lowercase (i hate autocaps) and not proofread so if you see any grammar mistakes lmk. IK THIS IS A WORN OUT TROPE BUT IDC BROTHERS BEST FRIEND JENO FTW this is just so self indulgent so if its ass um ☠️

pretty pink lip gloss, fresh set of french tip acrylics, short white mini skirt, strawberry scented lotion, and a pink lacy camisole. you, na y/n, were going to be the death of lee jeno.

"dude stop looking at my little sister like that you freak," jaemin threw a dirty sock laying around at his best friend's face as jeno stared at your plump ass like a piece of meat while you were in the kitchen making yourself a snack.

"shut the fuck up man," jeno grumbled as he proceeded to knock jaemin off course in moo moo meadows in mario kart.

you smirked knowingly with your back turned. you knew exactly what you were doing. it was 10 pm on a friday night, meaning jeno and jaemin were having their weekly guys night and would crash in the living room, playing video games, drinking beer, and eating pizza.

and it also meant you would get to dangle yourself like a piece of meat in front of your boyfriend and oblivious brother as you watch your hungry boyfriend try to behave himself.

"jaem let me have a turn," you whined, inviting yourself into the living room, and sat between the two boys on the verge of beating the shit out of each other over mario kart.

"y/n you know damn well you're shit at these types of games now why would i let you play when im about to rock jeno's shit," jaemin didn't even look over at you and continued to focus on the screen. "FUCKKKK JENO THOSE GODDAMN SHELLS. FUCK YOU DICKFACE”

jeno on the other hand glanced over at you, eyes never looking once at yours and instead focused straight on your plump titties popping right out of your push up bra. and he drove right off course, leaving jaemin to yelp in victory as he finished in 1st place.

"fuck you jaemin. here y/n you can play on my controller," jeno rolled his eyes and passed his controller to you. his character was already pink yoshi, making your heart melt because he knew that was your go to.

“thank you, jeno. at least some people are actually nice and considerate,” you rolled your eyes at your older brother.

"well okay you asked for it. prepare to get your ass kicked like our dear jen over there, y/n," jaemin said with an evil glint in his eyes.

as the game was about to start, you suddenly had an idea and paused the game. "wait jaem, i don't really know how to play. can you go easy on me?"

"hell no. you wanted to play with the big boys so now you gotta face the consequences."

you turned to look at jeno, who was very obviously just staring at your tits the entire time. "jeno, jaemin is being a bitch to me. can you teach me how to play since he doesn't want to go easy on me?" you tilted your head and pouted your lip in a way that you knew he liked.

you knew damn well how to play and beat the shit out of jaemin at mario kart but you also knew how good you looked right now and how this would be the perfect opportunity to tease your sexy boyfriend.

"aw hell no that's cheating, y/n," jaemin whined.

“too bad. it ain’t up to you, sore loser.” you gave jeno a smirk with a knowing look in your eyes.

"well i don't mind. plus you won the last round anyways, jaem," jeno spoke up, shifting around and subtlely fixing his sweatpants. you were teasing him so bad and it was going straight to his cock.

jaemin looked at jeno, then you, then right back at jeno, narrowing his eyes a bit. "hey since when did you two get so chummy?"

"jaemin stop being a bitch and let's just play. i don't even know how to play and jeno helping me isn't going to suddenly make me become a mario kart god."

jaemin rolled his eyes. "whatever man."

jaemin unpaused the game and the race started. you pretended to freak out, not knowing where to go as jaemin left you in the dust.

jaemin started laughing his ass off as he quickly climbed the ranks as you were left in dead last. "kiss my ass, y/n."

jeno leaned over to show you the controls but you took this opportunity to yank him to sit behind you, causing you almost be sitting in his lap as his arms wrapped you. "now show me the controls," you grinned evilly and shifted around so your ass rubbed against his dick.

jeno was stunned. doing this literally right in front of your brother? who forbade you two from ever seeing each other? he could just smell your sweet strawberry perfume, which had him wanting to just gobble you up. and your cute little outfit, god he just wanted to rip it right off of you and mark your body up, claim you as his. and not gonna lie, the thrill of being right next to your brother and his best friend had his heart pumping blood straight to his boner.

you both were lucky jaemin had tunnel vision when it came to video games, his face literally glued to the screen. otherwise he would've seen how your little white skirt rode up your thighs and your panties were literally grinding against his best friend's cock.

you let jeno take the controller and pretended to still be the one playing, occasionally screaming out curses at your brother and let out cheers when you hit him with shells. meanwhile you were really just shifting around on jeno's cock through his sweat pants as you ran your manicured nails up and down his veiny arms that were wrapped around you. his hands just looked so big and meaty on that controller, had you fantasizing about what they would be doing to you tonight.

as you neared the final lap, you in 6th place and jaemin in 2nd, you suddenly grabbed the controller out of jeno's hands and shoved him back beside you. he let out a loud grunt as he fell to the ground. jaemin suddenly took 1st place and finished the round. you were 8th. you gave jeno a fake apologetic look as he glared at you.

“oops,” you whispered, sticking your tongue out.

jaemin looked over at you and gave you a triumphant look. "now what did i tell you?"

you rolled your eyes and stood, your skirt rode up almost all the way and on the verge of exposing the little cream panties with red hearts on them that you knew jeno loved. the way jeno was sitting, you standing up gave him the perfect view of the way your puffy pussy fit in your little panties, making him even harder than before.

"whatever loser i'm heading back to my room. have fun being bitchless on a friday night." jaemin threw a pillow at your turned back. you sauntered back to your room, making careful sure to sway your hips as you knew jeno's eyes were trained straight on your ass.

it was 1 am and you were still up, bored out of your mind and scrolling through your phone. he should've been here by now, you pouted. you got frustrated and started ripping your clothes off, leaving you in just your push-up bra and panties when a voice from behind startled you.

"baby, you already starting without me? i'm hurt," jeno wrapped his arms around you, pressing his body against yours, and whispered softly in your ear, causing you to shiver.

you puffed out your cheeks. "waited for so long. was about to go to sleep because my shithead boyfriend left me needy over here."

jeno started groping at your body, squeezing your juicy tits and lightly grinding his erection against your barely clothed ass. "sorry sweet girl. jaem wouldn't fall asleep because that girl from his econ class finally texted him back, corny ass." he left a trail of kisses down your neck and sucked at a particular spot on your collar bone that had your knees weak.

you smiled to yourself. you couldn't pretend to be mad at him for long, not when you're so whipped for him. you turned around and looked up at him, admiring your sexy boyfriend. he finally listened to you and dyed his hair back to black, leaving it long and messy just how you like it. he was wearing a black compression shirt and grey sweatpants with the simple gold chain you bought him for his birthday. he knew just how you like it. what a fucking manwhore. you were ready to devour him whole.

you smashed your lips on his, messy and hot, tongue everywhere and spit dripping down your connected mouths. suddenly, you pushed him down on your bed and started straddling him, grinding your pussy directly on his cock through his sweatpants, causing him to groan into your mouth. one hand gripped at your hair and the other groped your ass.

"baby i need you. i missed you so much," you whispered, looking into his eyes.

he connected his lips to yours with a renewed fervor. clothes started flying off as you kissed each other passionately. he reached for a condom in your nightstand but you stopped him.

"raw baby. i need you in me right now." you grinned at him.

he cursed, flipped you over on your back and used his weight to press you against the mattress. his thick, muscular body pressing you to the mattress had you breathless and in need for more. "is my baby needy? is my baby needy for this cock?"

he reached down and began to lightly caress your pussy, gathering your leaking juices and spreading it around. his fingers teased your hole, rubbing circles around it and occasionally deciding to stick one in for one pump before going back to rubbing and teasing.

"had me thinking about this pussy all night. fuck. love you so much baby. you're so sexy and you get me so hard. no one does it for me like you. you looked so cute today, just wanted to eat you up. didn't care if that shithead was there, just wanted to love on my girl." he continued to tease your little pussy and alternate between fingering and rubbing you.

then he crawled down until he was facing your wet pussy directly. staring at your pussy like a piece of meat in front of starved lion, he gave one long lick all the way up your cunt and started sucking, making sure to make lewd noises. your legs were shaking with need as you gripped his hair.

"fuck you taste so good. all wet just for me. this pussy is mine," he groaned into your cunt.

at this point, your pussy was gushing so much you felt a puddle beneath you. his fingers and lips felt so so good on your pussy but you were tired of his teasing. you got up and suddenly looked down at him seriously. "jen if your cock isn't in me in the next 5 seconds i'm seriously going to break up with you and fuck haechan or something."

this lit a fire within jeno, whose eyes darkened. he lifted his body and gave his impossibly hard cock a few pumps, rubbing your juices all over his massive cock. he grabbed your thighs, lifted your legs over his shoulders, and shoved his cock into your little pussy with one big thrust.

you both moaned out, your pussy leaking happily as he bottomed out, balls deep. he set out on a fast past immediately, pounding your pussy deeper and harder with each thrust. you could feel his heavy balls slap against your ass.

"yes, jen yes yes yes! oh god more more! love you so much baby," you grabbed at his hair as he pounded your pussy into oblivion. in the deep mating press he had you in, you could feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. his cock was just so so big, you could never get enough of it.

you could see the veins pop out of his neck and his beefy arms were pinning your hips down as his hips were pounding you with each powerful thrust. he looked so so so sexy and he was all yours.

"god baby your pussy was made for me. love you so so much. mine. all mine. everything about you all mine, just for me," jeno kissed you passionately, both moaning into each other mouths.

he used one of his hands to press down on your lower belly, making your pussy leak and throb around him. "you feel that, princess? you feel me deep in your tummy? only i can do that to you, only me."

your mind was blank at this point, body completely numb to everything except the pleasure he was giving you. you could feel yourself about to get sent over the edge, your pussy spasming and clenching hard around every vein on his cock.

"bout to cum baby don't stop don't stop!!" you orgasmed with a loud scream, pussy squirting all over his stomach.

jeno continued fucking you through your orgasm, grunting at the feeling of your little pussy spasming all over his cock. "baby m close too, fuckkk."

fat tears rolled down your face at the overstimulation of pleasure. "jen please cum inside please."

jeno groaned, thrusting every harder and deeper than before. "such a slut. you like that huh? you want your boyfriend to knock you up? you want to have a baby with your brother's best friend? fuck. how about you just get pregnant? he wouldn't be able to disapprove of us when you're already round and waddling around with my baby."

with one loud groan, he bottomed out inside of you and let out his thick load. he collapsed on top of you, cock still balls deep inside, crushing you under all his weight with your face pressed against his sweaty chest.

you stayed like that for a few seconds before you tapped on his back, signaling that you couldn't breathe. still keeping his cock deep inside your leaking pussy, he flipped you over on your side and cuddled your back, wrapping one arm around your waist and the other pushing your hair out of your face. you panted, eyes closed in bliss. jeno drew circles on your arms and left kisses up and down your jaw and neck.

"just saying, you would look sexy as fuck pregnant with our baby." jeno whispered.

you opened your eyes to turn back and swat at his chest but what you saw made your blood run cold in horror.

it was your brother standing right in the open doorway staring at your naked bodies with a look of fury, surprise, horror, and shock that you had never seen before.

the three of you screamed at the sight of each other in unison.

a/n: i intentionally wrote the ending like that because i'm unsure if anyone would even want to continue reading this lmaooo so lmk what you think

[itgetsdark-x]

I Wanna See You Beggin’

Summary: Joel Miller is your dad’s best friend, you knew it was wrong, you knew it would only cause trouble but you couldn’t help the way you ached for the man. (Title is from I Hate Myself for Loving You — Joan Jett & The Blackhearts) 6.9k words. I’m sorry.

Characters: dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only, no minors as it’s just a big ol’ load of smut… praise kink (use of ‘good girl’ a lot), p in v sex, unprotected (be sensible and wrap before u tap, pls), age gap (reader is mid twenties, Joel would be in his late 40s), use of the word ‘daddy’, oral (f receiving), no outbreak in this au.

A/N: hi guys, I haven’t written smut for years and Joel Miller has me frothing at the mouth and giggling like a little girl with a crush especially dbf!joel… Anyway, if this is enjoyed by people, I have an idea of how I could make this into a series. Please leave me nice comments or catch me crying in a corner somewhere lol

“Dad,” you huffed into the receiver as you held your phone to your ear with your shoulder. “I love you and all but I could think of better ways to spend my Friday night rather than listening to you and Joel argue over which 80’s band is the best.” You chuckled fondly as you carried on typing away at the laptop in front of you whilst you spoke into your phone. 

“Sweetheart, I love spending time with you and Joel, you love him as well! I’ll pay for dinner?” He spoke softly and you smiled as your could hear your dad’s smile down the phone. 

“Fine, what time do you want me round, old man?” You teased fondly. “I finish work at 5 today.”

“6:30pm work okay for you? Don’t forget to bring some beer.” Your dad asked with a smirk. 

You rolled your eyes before responding to him, “Fine, I’ll bring the beers but as soon as you and the other old man start arguing, I’m out!” You laughed. 

“Deal,” your dad agreed. “I’ll see you later my sweet pea, love you!” He hummed and hung up before you could respond. 

“Old men and technology.” You muttered to yourself before taking your phone and opening your messaging app. 

You quickly tapped on the screen and chewed on your lip as you did so. 

‘You need a lift to dad’s later? x’ you hit send and placed your phone down on your desk, returning your attention back to your work laptop. You were in the midst of replying to an email when your phone buzzed on your desk beside you. 

‘Sure thing, peach. See you around 6? :) Xx’

You couldn’t help the way your lips upturned into a smile, and as soon as you caught the reaction you chewed on your bottom lip. You hated the way the older male had such a visceral effect on you, you had known Joel Miller for around ten years now. You moved to the city and your father worked with him, the two of them soon became best buddies which in turn, meant he spent a lot of time around you and your house. When you first met Joel you were a mere sixteen-year old kid, from day one you felt an instant attraction to him, you knew it was wrong but you couldn’t deny it. In the beginning it felt like a harmless, childish crush, one that you were bound to grow out of but things only seemed to get worse the older you got, that attraction burned deep in your veins and any time you spent time with the older man you couldn’t help the way your cheeks burned and your pussy throbbed; there had been many nights where you had dropped him home after visiting your dad and rushed home just so you could relieve your tension. Your fingers buried deep in yourself, moaning Joel’s name as you came around them. 

You felt shameful, dirty and down-right embarrassed about those moments but it didn’t stop you from doing it again, and again.. and again. You knew Joel would never cross that line, never, he was too much of a gentleman and had way too much respect for your old man but that didn’t stop the feelings you had for him.

Your mind was reeling, so much so you barely noticed the way your thighs pressed themselves together searching for some relief to your aching core, you stood from your desk in your room and stretched before you looked at the time on your desktop, it read 4pm. You sighed and went to your kitchen to grab a snack and make yourself a strong coffee, you had an hour left of work before you had to shower and get ready before picking Joel up. 

The last hour of your work felt excruciatingly slow, your mind was busy with thoughts of your evening ahead of you; it was no different to your usual Friday get-together with your dad and his friend but today you couldn’t erase the filthy thoughts of Joel from your mind. You quickly showered, hoping the hot water would wash your mind and body clean, you ignored the burning to urge to relieve some tension and give your body the orgasm and relief it so badly needed. 

After showering you, you applied a light layer of make-up, like usual before pulling your hair up in a half-up and half-down style. You looked into your wardrobe and reached for a plain black tank top, orange plaid over shirt and black tennis skirt; you paired the outfit with your favourite pair of black converse. You put your accessories on; earrings, rings and gave your body a spritz of your favourite perfume. After grabbing the 12-pack of beer from the fridge, you quickly grabbed your phone and keys off the counter and left your apartment to go and pick up Joel. 

You were running a tad late but that wasn’t out of the ordinary, and Joel was always expecting it. You pulled up outside his home, gave a beep of your horn and took a shaky breath in as you saw him lock up and approach your car. Your hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as he climbed into your car and suddenly your senses were attacked with the older male. The small space filled with his heady scent, his aftershave musky, spicy and just Joel. He was wearing dark grey jeans, not too tight but tight enough to appreciate his thick thighs and your eyes couldn’t help but notice his bulge as he walked. Joel was wearing a dark khaki over shirt and a black T-shirt under that went perfectly with his jeans, and of course, he was wearing his trusty dealer boots. 

“Hey peach,” he spoke and leant over to press a kiss to the side of your head. It was something he had done for years, only now, you craved to feel his lips elsewhere. 

“Hey old man.” You grinned and started your car once more. 

The journey to your father’s house was short, only about twenty minutes; it was annoying that he didn’t live in the same neighbourhood as it always meant you or, on occasion, Joel had to drive. It was a comfortable journey as the two of you spoke about your respective day’s and week’s. 

“So you’re not hanging out with that guy again tonight, oh, what was his name!?” Joel questioned, searching his brain for the name. “Derek? No, no, he definitely seemed like a George!” He laughed, his hands resting comfortably on his thigh, you couldn’t help the way your eyes glanced down at his large digits. 

“His name was Ben, and you know that, Joel. You’re just being a dick.” You shook your head quickly with a laugh. “And nope, dad had other ideas for me… clearly babysitting duties. I would much prefer to be out with Ben but here we are…” You said softly with a roll of your eyes, it was a lie, of course. You would happily spend every waking moment with Joel, if he let you, exploring his body, sharing your thoughts with one another. 

His hand tensed on his thigh, it was brief and barely noticeable but you did notice it; that was… weird? You shook off the feeling and parked up outside your dad’s apartment block. 

“Anyway, I love babysitting you old men. It’s cute. Great practice for when I actually want kids.” You laughed, turning off the ignition and climbing out of your car. “And, I’ve warned dad, slightest hint of bickering between you two and I am out. Gone. Done. You can walk home.” As you spoke, you bent over to reach into the back seat of your car to grab the beers, one leg slightly lifted as your body struggled slightly to pull them closer; you hadn’t given the motion much thought, especially in your outfit.

Joel moved until he was stood behind you, he cleared his throat and looked away sheepishly after catching a glimpse of your black, lace panties. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh hon, you might want me to grab those? Gonna give someone a heart attack if they see you like that.” His voice was soft as he spoke, still not making eye contact with you. 

“Shit. Sorry, Joel.” You cursed, your cheeks flushed red as you watched the dark haired man grab the beers and you smoothed out your skirt.

The rest of the evening played out like usual; your dad and Joel had a few beers each, you allowed yourself to have one as you were driving and you all ate way too much Chinese take-out. It was getting late, you were laid out on your dad’s couch, your legs swung over your dad’s lap, Joel was sat in the lazy-boy across the room, his legs sprawled wide. This was always part of the routine, you would all catch up on your week’s complain about work, talk about sport’s games that had happened or were about to occur, it was familiar and safe. 

“So get this, bud,” Joel spoke, his voice breaking the noise of whatever Depeche Mode record they had put on the player. “Y/N over here was saying she would have preferred to have hung out with that douche, Ben, we met last month. Can you believe that?” He looked over at you, smirking as he took a swig of his beer. 

“Dick,” you mouthed over to him and let your head hang back onto the arm of the sofa. 

Your dad opened his eyes and looked over at you. “Is that right, sweet pea? You don’t wanna hang out with your favourite ‘old men’?! I’m truly offended.” He laughed, closing his eyes again, feigning hurt. 

“Joel is just bitter I have a better love life and sex life than him.” You shot back, immaturely sticking your tongue out at the other male. 

“Gross! Dad in the room!” Your dad grimaced, watching his hands in front of his face. “You’re my little girl, I don’t wanna hear about you having sex.”

“Hey — that’s not even true, I have sex… plenty of it…” Joel huffed, trying to sound convincing as he lied through his teeth. In truth, Joel never really had an interest in the women he had met, sure he took a few women home from bar to sleep with them but after he lost his wife and child, Sarah, he never really had it in him to give dating a proper go. 

“Sureeee you do,” you giggled, causing your dad to let out a loud laugh.

You all laid about a bit longer, listening to music and joking around before you sat up and stretched your back out, causing your tank top to rise, showing a small sliver of soft skin to show. There it was again, Joel’s hand tensed in place and it was almost as if his jaw clenched down. You were sure you were imagining these things, like usual so you pushed yourself off the sofa and smoothed your clothes out. 

“Right, pop’s I better get old man Miller home before I pass out here. I’m shattered.” You yawned, reinforcing your previous sentence. 

After saying your goodbyes you walked back to your parked car, the cool chill of the late-night air made your skin prick up with goosebumps and sent a small shiver down your spine. 

Joel and you walked in silence, the silence remained as you started your car and cranked the heating up.

“Dick move, bringing up Ben to my dad by the way, Miller. Real dick move.” You spoke, your voice seeming loud in the confined and silent space, just the low thrum of your car’s air vents trying to clear the windows and fill the air with warmth.

“Ha, sorry, Peach. Couldn’t resist it. Was right there for me to tease you with.” He laughed lowly, bringing his hands up to blow some warmth into them. There it was again, that nickname, every time it rolled off his tongue it sent warmth straight to your core. 

“My dad doesn’t need to know what I would rather be doing on a Friday night, or rather who I would rather be doing.” You huffed.

“I wouldn’t go around proclaiming that sorta thing, especially round your pops. I’m sure he wouldn’t wanna hear how corrupt his good girl truly is.” Joel hummed, his finger tapping on his thigh as you began driving. 

‘Good girl’, it rolled off his tongue so effortlessly yet it sent sparks straight to your core, as you drove you shift in your seat and pressed your thighs together. 

“I — I uh, I’m an adult, Joel. I’m a fully grown woman, incase you haven’t noticed. I have needs and wants.” You argued, trying to remain confident in your words. 

“Needs… and wants, huh?” He laughed, raising an eyebrow at you. “Is that why I see you practically drooling every time you see me? Now would you say that’s a need or a want?” Joel asked, his voice low and sultry.

Your mouth dried up instantly, voice getting stuck in your throat as you tried to protest. “I — I do not.” You protested, your voice coming out as a mere squeak.

“Oh peach, I see the way you press your thighs together. So needy for me? Hmm.” He hummed, his hand reaching over to touch your bare thigh. “I’ve seen the way you shift in your seat when I spread my legs in the arm chair or when you catch a short glimpse of my bulge. I’ve seen it all, no need to hide it.” His fingers were barely touching you, ghost-like touches on your skin. It was a risky move, he knew that and he knew you could quite easily pull the car over, kick him out and tell your dad what he had done. It could ruin his only true, pure friendship if your dad found out. But Joel was also sure he had calculated this properly, he had seen you for the past couple years and your minuscule reactions only seemed to ramp up the older you had been getting. 

Your breath hitched harshly in your throat as you tried to concentrate on the road ahead of you but your mind was swimming with Joel once again, his fingers lightly traced patterns on your inner thigh and all you could do was whimper pathetically under his touch. 

“J-joel,” you whined. “Please don’t tease me, I’ll crash the fuckin’ car if you play like that.”

“Oh little girl, I’ve barely placed a hand on you and you’re already whimpering for me? Quite cute really.” He said, his voice seeming deeper than usual; he splayed his hand across the skin of your inner thigh and gripped it tightly. 

You forced your eyes open as you continued to drive, you weren’t sure if you were doing the speed limits or what, all you could think about was the large hand that was so close, yet not nearly close enough to where you needed it the most. You could feel how wet you were already, you had been a mess all evening but now you could physically feel your arousal collecting in your lace panties. 

“You reckon your ol’ man knows how needy you are for me? Your dad’s best friend. Oh peach, what a mess.” He continued, he had moved closer to you now, reaching over the centre console of your car, his breath fanning out over your neck. 

“J-Joel, I’m serious. I’ll crash if you carry on like that. Not funny.” You whined, trying to press your legs together again but feeling resistance in the form of Joel’s hand. 

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Joel tutted. “What are you trying to do there, darlin’?” He laughed, letting his pinky drift closer to your clothed cunt just barely brushing the fabric. 

You whined again, just a small noise from the back of your throat and pulled the car over, from what you could tell you were a few streets away from Joel’s house; the suburban area was dimly lit with few lights and no people walking around, especially not this late anyway. You pushed your car into park, turned off the lights and engine and looked at the older male for a moment, your lips wet and cheeks flushed. 

“Joel…” you started. “Y-you don’t have to do this, I know I’m not your type and I’m sure you’re just trying to play a bit of a joke on me. We should get you home and forget about all of this…” Your breath was shaky, you hoped to every god out there that Joel would continue but you wanted him to know he didn’t have to humour your silly feelings. 

“You don’t think I want this?” Joel asked, his face close to yours, hand still pressed teasingly to your thigh. “I’ve noticed recently, the way you react to me and tonight, w-when you were bent over. Took everything in me to not pull those little panties aside and bury myself deep in that little cunt right there in the middle of the street.” His voice sounded near animalistic as he finished that sentence and your cheeks burned a deep, cherry red as he finished speaking. 

“I didn’t mean to do that, didn’t really think.” You mumbled, looking past him to stare out the window. 

“Shh,” Joel hummed, he leant forward and placed a kiss to your lips with his hand still stroking soft patterns into your inner thigh. 

You sighed contentedly into the kiss, finally experiencing what you had craved for years, your hand snaked up to hold Joel’s face as you deepened the kiss; hungry to taste more of the man. Joel tasted like smoke faintly, salty from the foods you had eaten and there was the distinct taste of hops from the beer he had drank. Your fingers intertwined into his greying hair and you gave it a testing tug; Joel groaned and allowed his tongue to swipe across your bottom lip. Eagerly, you opened your mouth and urged the kiss to be deepened, taking as much of him in as you could in that moment. 

Joel saw this as his opportunity to advance his hand, he slipped his fingers under the hem of your skirt and let them stroke across the damp fabric of your panties. You whimpered into the kiss, your hips bucked forward searching for further contact. He couldn’t help but smile at how undone you were already. Joel teased his fingers across the waistband of the lace fabric of your panties, teasingly slow, just as you were about to pull away from the kiss and protest he allowed two fingers to slip into your wet folds and agonisingly slowly circle your swollen clit. 

“Fuck,” he growled lowly. “So fuckin’ wet for me already, darlin’?”

You nodded, gripping at Joel’s forearm as he started to rhythmically circle and play with your clit. He was right, you were near sopping as he slipped through your folds. 

“Wanted this for s-so long,” you whimpered. You couldn’t quite believe this was real, you were almost convinced you would wake up any moment, sprawled out on your bed with your fingers deep inside of yourself and not actually in your car, with Joel Miller’s fingers close to making you cum already. 

“Yeah?” Joel asked, his fingers speeding up. “Wanted to feel my fingers on your wet pussy, making you feel good? Huh? How does it feel to have my fingers finally in you?” Joel spoke, his voice a low huff as his fingers worked quickly. 

“So. Good.” You moaned, the noise low and breathy. “Feels so good. I’m going to cum. Please.”  

Joel groaned, he still couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Since you started maturing over the past couple of years he had thought so many times about how much he would love to corrupt you; to have his fingers, mouth and cock making you fall apart at the seams. Just anything to make you feel good. 

“That’s it, atta girl. Cum for me, good girl.” Joel whispered, his lips ghosting over your ear as he sunk a digit into you abruptly and let his palm bump up against your clit.

That was it, the white hot, searing heat in your stomach erupted and your eyes screwed themself shut so tight you saw white patterns dancing behind your eyelids. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip so hard the familiar metallic tang flooded your mouth, anything to stop you from alerting the neighbourhood with your screams. If that You that wasn’t just the best orgasm of your life, you would have been slightly embarrassed at quickly he had made you cum. 

Joel barely moved his finger in you, just circled it slightly but his palm nudged your clit as he worked your through your orgasm and it made you whimper loudly, your body flinching with over sensitivity. He took the hint and removed his hand from your wrecked panties and brought it up to his mouth, sucking his digits to clean them from your juices. 

“Taste so sweet, just like a peach.” He groaned, his fingers popping from his mouth, the noise startling you from your orgasmic comedown. There it was again, your nickname but now it just sounded sinful and you knew going forward, you wouldn’t be able to hear it without getting wet and embarrassed. 

When you finally regained some composure, you looked at Joel; your lips were swollen and red and your cheeks had a light flush settled on them. He smiled, thinking you were truly the most perfect sight he had ever seen. Your hand reached over to his lap, you had a hunger and needed to curb the insatiable need for his cock. Your small hand palmed him through his jeans, he was rock hard and fuck, he was big. You swallowed, almost nervously at the thought of his large cock stretching your tight hole out. Of course you had slept with people, you weren’t a virgin but your previous boyfriend was nowhere near that big and he definitely couldn’t make you come that hard, even on his best days. You gently squeezed at his length, stroking him through the rough fabric. 

“Not here, darlin’. How about we go back to mine so I can properly appreciate you?” He asked, and just as you opened your mouth to protest saying you wanted him right there and now he spoke once more. “I’ll drive, dunno if you can drive properly after that, little girl. I saw how hard you came on my fingers, now imagine how hard you could cum on my cock.”

Your whole body shuddered involuntarily, never in all your years of knowing Joel had you heard such filthy things from his mouth; he had always been the perfect Southern gentleman. You were soon pulled out of your thoughts by Joel opening your car door. 

“Shuffle over.” He commanded. 

You nodded dumbly and did as you were told. Joel swiftly started the car and continued the drive back to his, it barely took ten minutes but every minute felt like torture; your mouth watered at the thought of Joel filling your holes, using you how he pleased, your core ached with the need to be full of Joel again. 

Once the car was parked, Joel hopped out and was once again opening your door for you, you exited the car and grimaced at the cool air hitting your skin. You felt Joel’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you into his home, a place you had been hundred’s of times before but this time you felt nervous. 

He opened his front door for you and you walked in, just as you were about to turn and speak to the male he was holding your hips in his large hands and pressing your smaller frame against the wall. His lips were on yours and starting a bruising kiss, once again your hands found their way into his hair and you moaned softly. You wanted to be stuck like this forever, with his soft lips on yours and his rough facial hair scratching your skin slightly reminding you exactly who was kissing you. 

“Please don’t tease, I just want you so badly Joel. I have for years, b-been thinking about your cock filling me up for years.” You whined, sounding like a petulant child. 

“And I’ll be fillin’ you up real soon, sweet girl. But how about I make you feel good again, yeah? You think you can be good for me and cum again, I wanna truly taste how sweet you are, sugar.” He growled, his lips trailing rough kisses down your neck. God how he wished he could mark you up, head to toe, just so people would know you were all his.

Your knees buckled, and your body fell against Joel’s slightly, causing him to laugh breathily; no woman had ever reacted like that to him before, let alone just his words but then again, no woman was like you. He took you by the hand and led you up to his room, you couldn’t help but take in your surroundings, you had been in Joel’s room a couple times before but you had never noticed just how much it smelt like him. 

“How about we get you nice and comfortable, let’s get those clothes off you. Can’t wait to see your body.” He started by pushing your plaid shirt off your shoulders, throwing it over to the side; the heavy fabric landed with a dull thud onto his wooden floor and with that he swiftly removed your tank top. Somewhere along the way you had both kicked your shoes off but your brain was too murky to fully register it. 

Joel’s rough hands slid up your sides, he was drinking in every inch of your curves and soft skin; in the wake of his hands your skin was freckled with goosebumps. 

“So beautiful,” he breathed, a dim light casting beautiful shadows over his face. You felt embarrassed as his eyes fully drank in your form. “May I?” He asked, voice soft and smooth like honey, his hands were at the clasp of your bra and you simply nodded. It seemed like a trivial thing to ask permission for considering less than thirty minutes ago you were cumming around his fingers. 

He removed your bra, your perky breasts bounced ever so as the supportive fabric was gone. Your nipples hardened as the cool air hit them, pulling the sensitive skin tight. Joel could have devoured you whole, right there and then. His large, calloused hands came up to hold your breasts, his thumbs swiping over your nipples almost in a testing fashion. He did it again when it elicited a moan from your throat, he pinched the sensitive buds and your back arched towards him. 

“Joel, I can’t take it. Please.” You whined, his touches were entirely too much yet not enough all at once. It was your own form of perfect torture. 

The older male was loving this, watching your eager reactions as he toyed with your body, his cock was hard and leaking in his jeans and he couldn’t wait to be inside of you. 

“Be patient, darlin’. We have all night.” He smirked, slowly sinking to his knees in front of you. 

His rough hands begrudgingly left the peaks of your breasts and worked their way down to the zip of your tennis skirt, he unzipped the fabric causing it to fall to the floor. You took the cue and kicked it to side, out of the way. Joel’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties once more and slid them down your legs, you rested onto his shoulder and stepped out of them, just before you could kick them to the side, he was bunching them up and shoving them into his back pocket. 

This man — he would be the death of you, you just knew it. 

You were about to make a comment and protest but Joel was stood once again and gently pushing you back onto the bed behind you; you fell onto the plush mattress with ease, your thighs falling open without being asked to do so. You felt exposed, vulnerable but above all else, you felt needy. 

“Good girl, without even being told to lie like that. Such a beautiful girl.” He remarked, pulling his shirt over his head and slipping his jeans from his thick thighs. 

You rested up on your elbows to peer at Joel as he undressed and your throat tightened, all the air in the room seeming to have evaporated immediately. He was beautiful, all harsh lines to the outside world but in the glow of his bedroom now, he looked soft and warm. You were in deep, and you knew it meant deep trouble. 

He palmed himself through his boxers just to stave off some of the throbbing and your eyes followed eagerly, the thick outline of his cock making your walls clench around nothing. Wordlessly Joel knelt at the end of the bed, latched his hands onto your thighs and pulled you closer so you could feel his hot breath fanning over your sopping folds. Your hips bucked into thin air, nothing there to help you and he laughed, it was quiet and breathy but he definitely laughed — fucker.

Joel trailed two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on them once again and without warning he plunged them into you roughly. You gasped, your back arched off the bed and your fists balled into the sheets either side of yourself. His fingers were so thick, so much thicker than any man you had been with before; you weren’t sure whether that was down to the age difference or just Joel’s build. He slowly pumped his fingers in and out rhythmically, building speed and curling them so they brushed that perfect, sensitive spot inside of you. 

Your mouth was agape as you laid there, completely at his will, writhing under his relentless touch. Moan after moan, after moan spilled from your parted lips and just as you felt the tension tighten in your stomach Joel lapped his tongue of your clit. Your back arched and the filthiest moan escaped your mouth, you weren’t even sure how that noise had come from you but it had and it had Joel smirking as his tongue swiped through your folds again just to circle around your clit once more. 

Your hand laced its way into Joel’s hair, your fingers gripping the strands with a deathly vice and he groaned into your pussy causing vibrations to ripple through you. You weren’t sure how you were still holding on but your stomach was twisting, tightening and bubbling as your orgasm approached once again. 

“Mmm, good girl.” He praised as your walls clenched around his fingers as he continued to pump them into your wet heat. The room was filled with obscenely filthy noises; your moans echoed throughout the empty space as Joel slurped up your juices. 

“Joel —“ you sobbed, your back arching impossibly high off the mattress below you. “C-can I cum? Please. Need it.” You asked pathetically.

Why were you asking permission?

Never before had you felt so submissive for a partner in bed, never once had you asked permission to cum, no, normally you would be chasing your high, just trying to grasp at a fraction of how good Joel was making you feel. 

“That’s it baby, such a good girl for asking permission. Wanna make you feel as good as I can, peach.” He groaned in between pleasuring you. “Cum all over my face, wanna taste as much as I can.”

That was it, the coil in your stomach snapped abruptly and you were gushing onto Joel’s fingers, a pleasured scream tumbling from your lips. Never, not once had you squirted before, yet here you were, soaking the sheets beneath you and in turn, Joel’s beard and your own thighs. You would have felt ashamed if you didn’t feel such pure euphoria in the moment. Your back was twisted and contorted off the sheets as Joel worked you through it, making you squirt further.

He could have cum in his boxers, like a teenager as the first drops of your orgasm hit his face. He lapped up as much of you as he could, like a man who had been starved for years. And he had, he had been starved from allowing himself to have this moment with you and now he had you, he wanted to savour and devour you as much as you would allow him to. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, your thighs trapping his head. “C-can’t do it anymore!” You sounded wrecked, your throat felt raw from how loudly you had been moaning. 

Joel laughed, pushed your thighs apart and removed his fingers from you. You winced and your walls clenched around air, feeling so empty once again. 

“Please, p-please can I have you now?” You asked, positioning yourself on your knees in front of Joel. You reached your hand to feel his hard cock through his boxers once again and this time, he didn’t stop you. 

You abruptly pulled the checkered fabric from his waist and his boxers pooled at his feet; freeing his cock finally, it sprang up against his stomach and you all but moaned. 

“You’re so…” you whispered, looking up at Joel through your lashes as your small hand wrapped around his thick length. The tip was dark, a bead of pre-cum glistened at the slit and all you wanted was to taste it, to taste Joel’s musk. “You’re so big, fuck.” You cursed, your tongue sticking out to kitten lick at his tip. 

You wanted to sink your mouth down his length to fully take him in so your nose could bury into Joel’s thatch of dark hair but you resisted and gave him another lick, tongue flicking into his slit.

Joel groaned, a low and gruff noise from the back of his throat. “Fuck, darlin’, I gotta be in you. None of this.” He spoke lowly, his thumb coming down to swipe along your bottom lip and you quickly sucked it into his mouth. 

“Please, daddy.” You whispered, the honorific slipping from your throat before you could process it. A look of horror washed over your features and you knelt up higher to look Joel in the eyes. “I — I, — sorry. I didn’t mean —“

Your fumbling words were cut off when Joel placed his big hand around your throat and brought you in for a kiss. You were trouble, you were sinful and he was damned. He had been called daddy a few times by younger women, they thought it was sexy; the way they would flutter their lashes at him at the bar, saunter over to him and whisper ‘hey daddy.’ Normally it made his skin crawl and caused his body to cringe but the way it almost innocently slipped from your lips, it was like a curse from the devil himself and it made Joel’s cock jump, nudging your stomach. 

He squeezed his hand around your throat and you smiled? Trouble. Nothing but pure trouble. 

“Not such a good girl, after all, huh? Been acting all innocent all these years.” He whispered, his thumbs squeezing near your pulse point, hard enough to make your head feel lighter and floaty but soft enough not to hurt you deliberately. “God, what would your old man say about this? See his little girl begging to cum, see you squirting on his best friend’s face. Smiling as I wrap a hand round your throat. Your trouble, darlin’. Nothin’ but damn trouble.” He whispered, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before peppering small nips to the flesh of your neck. 

Your legs trembled as they held you up, it was wrong but his words went straight to your core and soaked you further, you didn’t think your arousal could get higher but here you were. He was right though; your dad would be horrified, would be downright mortified to know what his daughter was truly like and at the hands of his best friend? That would destroy your lives. All three of you. You pushed that bitter thought away as your head lulled back and you allowed Joel to grope at your chest, hungry to feel your body once more. 

“Say it again,” he growled into your ear as he pushed your body back down onto the bed. “Call me it again as I fuck you real good. How ‘bout I show you what it’s like to have a real man fuck you, not some silly boy.” He said, his voice gruff whilst he stroked the tip of his cock through your folds. 

“Daddy,” you whimpered, parting your legs further to allow Joel more room to enter you. “Daddy please fuck me.” You begged, sounding weak. 

“Oh, of course, baby girl.” He cooed, pushing his cock into you roughly until he was bottomed out. “Fuck,” he cursed. 

“S-so big, daddy.” You whimpered, your hands grasping at Joel’s biceps, just trying to hold onto something as you adjusted to the slight burn of him stretching you out. “Mmm, please move.” You moaned. 

“Atta girl, taking daddy’s cock so good already.” Joel groaned and he swore that he saw heaven in that moment; your tight body below him, contorting to how he needed. He had already built up a punishing pace, hips drawing back to slam forward roughly. The room was filled with echoes of your skin slapping together, his deep pants and your wanton moans and weak, pleading whimpers. 

“I’ve wanted this for s’long,” you sobbed, your eyes falling shut as the tension built further in your stomach once more. You knew from this point forward you would be wrecked for any other man, no one would be able to make you feel this good. Not even close. “T-touched myself so many times thinking about you fucking me.” You admitted, the words falling without thought. “Want you to cum in me, wanna be full of just you, Joel.” You moaned. 

Joel was a goner, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer, you were too tight, too wet and just too good for him to have any real stamina. Your admission didn’t help matters, either. The thought of you spread out on your own sheets, touching yourself to him?!

He gripped one of your hips tightly, hard enough to leave bruises on your delicate skin as he fucked into you harder with deep groans. “Can’t be saying that to me, peach. Gonna cum too quickly.” He hissed, his free hand snaking between you to trace circles around your clit. 

“I c-can’t do it again,” you stuttered, your body burning from the inside and out. “Too much.” You breathed, your sharp nails clawing at any bare skin you could find. Just anything to anchor you down as Joel pulled another orgasm from you. 

“I think you can. Hmm?” Joel spoke. “What you think? Wanna be a real good girl for daddy and give me one more?” His thumb sped up but his hips slowed to a sensual roll, his cock head bumping the electrified bundle of nerves deep in your walls. You clenched around him tightly and he moaned, louder than before. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. One more, come on now. Come on.” He groaned, working your clit faster. 

You whined, the noise stuck in your throat as your back arched once more and you clenched around Joel before gushing around him with a moan of his name. “Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel, J—.” Your eyes had rolled back, any further and they would have disappeared into the back of your skull.

“Such a good girl, fuck. So tight. That’s it, squirt on my cock.” He groaned, removing his hand from your clit to hold down both your hips as he fucked into you with more fervour. He wasn’t going to last long, but he also knew you couldn’t take much more. You were cock drunk and spent. “Gonna fill you up so. fuckin’. good.” He huffed, accentuating each word with a thrust. 

“Daddy,” you cried, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body went into overdrive. 

That was it, that’s all it took. Joel looked down at you, your were a mess and all from him, tears fell onto your cheeks as he finished inside of you with a groan of your name. “Shhh, that’s it sweet girl. Such a good girl.” He cooed, his hand cupping your cheek as he emptied himself into you. 

You moaned, feeling the hot liquid of his cum fill you up, your walls clenched weakly, just trying to milk him of every drop and you turned to kiss his hand. The room smelt of sex, the air was thick and hot and sleep called to you like a sweet song. 

Joel pulled out of you with a hiss and you whimpered, your body felt like there were a hundred tiny pin pricks on your skin. You were overstimulated and completely spent but ultimately, you were so happy. 

“Hmmm, m’sleepy.” You hummed contentedly.

“I know, sweet girl but can’t sleep here. The sheets are a mess. How about you have a rest in the spare room and I’ll go sleep on the couch?” He asked softly, brushing your sweat-dampened hair from your face. 

“Sorry about the sheets,” You giggled, eyes heavy-lidded and barely open. “Although, was kinda your fault. You’re a dirty old man, too good at that.” You teased, still giggling. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to hell.” He huffed, his voice all too serious. 

Joel scooped your naked body off his bed with a gruff noise and before you knew it, you were in another bed with the duvet wrapped around you. Joel had cleaned you up with a damp towel, dressed you in one of his shirts and wrapped you up into the sheets. 

“Stay with me,” you whispered as Joel turned to walk out, assuming you had already passed out for the night. “P-please stay with me.” You cried, tears filling your eyes. 

He smiled and obliged with no arguments. The mattress dipped beside you and he wrapped his large arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“Of course I’ll stay, peach.” He whispered and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You hummed sleepily, your eyes already closed and you felt peaceful. It was the most peaceful you had felt in a long time. Joel was there, you finally felt content and safe in his arms. You knew trouble was brewing on the horizon but right there, in that moment, you couldn’t find it in you to actually care.

Everything felt like it was too much, of course your fantasy came true but what did this mean for your futures? You only assumed it would be messy and all too hard on you both. 

You drifted off to sleep peacefully that night, the most peaceful you had been in far too long. Your senses screamed Joel and you felt safe. You knew trouble was brewing on the horizon but for now, you were content and happy.

——————————

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[astroboots]

Punch-Out Love

Artwork by @guruan

FIGHT NIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You're lucky enough to score ring-side seats at a boxing match on Friday night. Getting the best view in the house of boxing champion: Miguel O'Hara.

Word count: 1,500

Next Chapter

Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist 

You know fuck all about boxing.

About the only thing you know about the sport was from the glimpses you caught watching scratched up old recordings of Muhammed Ali fights on the boxy mini-tv of your old childhood friend's house.

It always seemed barbaric. The practice of watching two human beings beat the shit out of each other for spectator's entertainment. It seems like something that was better left in the Ancient Roman times. Have we all human beings as a society, really not come further some 2,000 years later?

Your bestie used to get mad at you for this. Constantly defending the sport from your criticism, because (according to him) it's not just about smashing each other's faces in. Supposedly, there's an art to the sport. Boxers are taught to respect their opponents and adhere to the principles of good sportsmanship. It takes great mental discipline, dedicated work and years of hard and punishing training to master boxing.

You never saw any of that in the matches he showed you. All you saw were two men needlessly being hurt, sustaining brain damage for rich people's enjoyment.

Then again, he was more than a little bit biased, considering it was his dream to go pro one day. Tall and gangly, with his scrawny antelope legs, thick-rimmed glasses and big-ass braces, he looked like he couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag, much less another person. You never understood how exactly he thought he was going to make it as a boxer.

But you never found it in you to burst his unrealistic bubble when he used to point at the screen excitedly, drawing your attention to Ali's footwork and the artistry in it. 

"It's like he's dancing," he used to say.

Except dancing is done with swelling music in the background. In dancing you often have a partner. It's an embrace. It's gentle and kind.

Boxing... was not that.

So you don't know how you managed to find yourself in the ringside seats of a local boxing match on a Friday evening, staring up at the boxing ring with the glaring ring lights shining into your eyes.

"Aren't these seats amazing?" Jess shouts excitedly over the familiar lyrics of ‘We Will Rock You' being belted out by Freddy Mercury on the loudspeaker.

You smile, and nod, because boxing-fan or not, she's right, these are some amazing seats. And considering you didn't have to pay a dime for them, personal aversions aside, you're never going to turn down free stuff.

Jess' husband tested positive for covid at the last minute, and you're the only one in your social circle that is anti-social and single enough to not have any plans on a Friday evening.

On the monitors above you, the menacing headshots of the two fighters swish into view.

"The first guy is an old reigning champ," she explains to you, as she leans in, shouting into your eardrums (and yet you can still barely make out what she's saying over the music). "The challenger is some new kid on the block. Has an amazing track record. Zero losses in the season. He's something else."

You look up at the gigantic screen, at the sharp cut cheeks, strong thick brows and the intense pitched brown eyes staring down at you.

Angry looking dude.

...Handsome too.

With a face like that, surely he could've gone into other careers. Calvin Klein model, movie star, or a news anchor. You wonder what makes a guy voluntarily have his face bashed in for money as a career.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a loud booming voice announces from the stage.

You jump in your seat from the suddenness, as you see a bald and overly formal dressed announcer in the middle of the ring. 

"Welcome to the electrifying boxing showdown of the century! Are you ready to witness some knockout action tonight?"

The crowd around you cheers with a pandemonium of shouting and whistling.

"Introducing our first fighter, a true hometown hero! With an impressive record of 20 wins, 15 by knockout, and only 2 losses, standing at 6'3 feet, and weighing in at 340 pounds of determination and strength, give it up for ‘the Knockout King’ Bobby Kane!"

You watch as the reigning champion walks down the tunnel to the midst of adoring cheers as he waves and gestures at the crowd like royalty.

Every inch the king that he is nicknamed, he jumps over the rope and stands tall and proud over the ring.

The man is huge, bulging with almost grotesque muscles. He's so large that you almost expect each of his steps to send a reverberation throughout the hall, as if this was Jurassic Park and he's a T-Rex.

"Now, entering the ring with the confidence of a warrior, fighting out of the red corner, with 15 wins, 10 by knockout, and no losses, standing at an astounding 6 feet 9 inches, and weighing in at 310 pounds of raw power, let's hear it for tonight's challenger, ‘Steel Jaw’ Miguel O'Hara!"

Wait what? You do a double take at the announcement. Six foot nine?!?! What kind of giant is that?

From the far corner of the hall, you see his silhouette emerge, and your eyes go wide at the sight of him. Tall doesn't even begin to describe him. 

There's a 200 year oak tree at Central Park, and with the shadow this man casts, you think their height must be nearly comparable. If you thought the Knockout King was tall, the "King" is practically tiny compared to this challenger.

You watch, as the man with cheeks so sharp they mind as well be blades (and god never has a nickname made more sense to you) as he strides towards the stage. He reaches the rope and barely even has to climb over it with how tall he is.

He's leaner than his predecessor. Every inch of him is cut muscles and tanned gorgeous skin as he stands in front of you. His presence is electric. The air crackles where he stands, towering over the stage.

You swear that his towering height blocks out the ring lights with it, casting the stage in the darkness of his tall shadow.

Somehow, he's even prettier in person compared to the still image of him blown up and plastered on the big screen. Soft brown curls and pouty lips. You don't understand in what world a man like that is a professional fighter.

From this distance, with the way that the light refracts from his irises, his eyes almost glow with a scarlet red that takes your breath away as you look up at him and meet his eyes.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was staring at you.

The bell rings out, but he's not looking away. The intensity you find there is enough to make you swallow your tongue. Your face prickles with heat and for several long moments you forget to breathe, until the air seems to thin around you and your vision starts to swim.

Then he turns to face his opponent.

You're not quite sure where to look. There's so much happening at once. For his size, Miguel O'Hara is surprisingly deft on his feet. His footwork is somehow both unpredictable yet intentional all at once.

The King throws a strong punch, as he lunges forward, after his tall opponent. But O'Hara dodges them seemingly without effort. It's followed by punches so quick, the movements blur together.

Strike after strike. The King is giving it his all. But none of it properly connects. With every failed hit, you can see him growing increasingly more frustrated.

Your heart is in your lungs, and despite how close you are to the stage, you almost want to get up from your seat for a closer look.

Safe as you are behind the ropes, adrenaline rushes through your veins with a fury. You can't recall the last time you felt this ecstatic about... well, anything.

With each punch O’Hara dodges, you feel yourself lurch back in your seat, trying to dodge the punch with him.

It's titillating.

Exciting.

O'Hara's movements are precise and honed with intention despite the ferocity in his movements. Each one is measured and intricate and if you didn't know any better you'd almost call it graceful.

You think back to those moments in your childhood friend's home, and his excited words buzz in your ears now. For the first time ever you finally understand what he had meant.

It is like a dance.

Before you, O’Hara's eyes cross over in your direction and for a split of a second, you swear your eyes connect again. His gaze holds you there, pinned to your seat, and excitement shoots through the entirety of your spine until you feel lightheaded from the attention.

Then he finally steps forward, no longer evading.

It's brutal and efficient.

An uppercut that connects cleanly to his opponent's jaw.

Spit and blood flies out from the man's mouth, the flabby flesh of his cheek vibrating from the impact as he lands on the floor with an ear-shattering thud.

Then the guy is out.

Barely even eight minutes in. 

There's a stunned and shocked silence. The crowd seems both enthralled and disappointed at how fast it all went. On the ring floor, you can practically see the circle of cartoon birds flying above the defeated King's head.

You may not know anything about boxing, but you know that this man is not getting up anytime soon, no matter how far the referee counts.

Tearing your eyes away from the motionless body splayed out on the ground elevated above you, you can see the victor towering menacingly over the body.

But Miguel O'Hara isn't even looking at his defeated opponent

No, his eyes are staring straight into the sea of awestruck spectators. Except he’s not looking at them.

He's looking at you.

~ Next.

Author's note: What's that you say? CiCi wtf are you doing starting another series when you already got one going on? ... Idek man. But I hope you guys enjoy it, cause I had a blast writing it, smut will ensue in later chapters I promise!

Dedications and Credits: Buckle up it's gonna be a big one!

Firstly to @guruan when I say she's my muse THIS IS WHAT I MEAN! Look at that beautiful artwork. I am drooling into my panties. I am crying between my legs. I am so damn horny! I cannot thank this amazingly talented genius enough. Please please give this wonderful brilliant human your love by following her, and drop by her KO-FI SHOP cause the art this woman bless us with is UN-fucking-REAL

Then to @djarinsbeskar who put this idea into my head. In my mind she is the OG Boxer AU champion and mastermind. If you are in the mood for more boxing content, she has a wonderful, devastatingly sexy series Boxer!Din AU that is just woof woof bark bark.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Pressing

Jack Daniels x F!Reader, dude ranch AU

A Palomino oneshot, but can be read on its own

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: Jack marks you as his in an unexpected way.

Warnings: PWP, Jack's belt leaves an impression on reader's skin, unintentional branding, unprotected sex, long-distance relationship, desperate and feral cowboy, no physical descriptions of Reader, very lightly edited, written as part of the Palomino universe, set after the end of the series, but can be read as a oneshot on its own

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: This little story came from an ask sent in by 🐴 anon in December 2022, which I have long lost, about a song that mentions a guy’s belt buckle leaving marks on his girlfriend's inner thigh while fucking. Naturally, they thought of Jack’s belt. 🐴 anon, if you’re still here, thank you for the inspo and for your patience ❤️

Also thank you to @lola-lola-lola for getting me horn knee about our cowboy again 😘 Writing Palomino smut first thing in the year was not on my 2024 bingo card, and I’m not mad about it!

Cutest dividers by @firefly-graphics.

It’s been two and a half months. Week after wretched week of phone calls on stolen time. Day after day of aching to reach through the phone screen and the distance between you to touch him.

It’s hard being hundreds and hundreds of miles apart. It’s even harder on weeks when he’s in the mountains with no reception. Harder to find time to call when you have to work late and he has to get up at dawn.

But you endure it all - for days like this. 

It’s a rare weekend off in the high season, with Teak pulling back-to-back pack trips to cover for him, joking that he can’t take all his sighing and pining for his Darlin’ anymore.

Jack takes the last flight out on Friday night, arriving first thing on Saturday morning, before the city - or you - wake up. You’re half-buried under the duvet when the jingle of the key in the door jolts you from shallow slumber.

On unsteady feet, you wobble out into the hallway, crashing into the walls as you go, balance off-kilter from sleep.

But it’s ok - he catches you, all white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. Incognito, if you will, in casual sneakers, but the cowboy hat is on as always. You knock it off post-haste, burying your face in the side of his neck in a desperate need for contact, his warmth seeping into your skin and wrapping you up in the deepest of comforts.

His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, and your fingers twist into his tousled curls when you pull back, taking in the stubble on his sharp jawline, and his tired eyes. But before you can say anything, he leans in and slants his lips over yours.

The taste of airplane coffee is sharp and bitter on his tongue as he kisses you deep and messy. You startle when he suddenly slams the door shut behind him, not realising it was still open, and his beat-up weekend bag is tossed carelessly behind him somewhere in the doorway. 

The legs of the kitchen table scrape jarringly against the floor as he crowds you onto it, big hands cupping your ass and pulling you against his straining erection through his jeans.

‘Fuck, it’s been too long, darlin’.’ His voice is gravelly from an apparently sleepless overnight flight, and hearing his voice finally on the shell of your ear has you whimpering needily.

‘Can’t wait any more,’ he growls, desperation thick in his voice.

With a flick of his wrists, he shucks off your ratty sleep shirt, eyes hooded as he gazes down at your tits, like he can’t believe he’s actually touching you. Cupping them, soft and heavy, with reverent, rope-worn palms, he sucks one nipple after the other between his lips, making you squirm against him and leak wet and sticky between your thighs.

Strong hands hold you in place easily as you buck, the scrape of his moustache almost painful on your over-sensitive skin, nerve endings on fire after being deprived for long weeks. 

Too impatient to wait, you tug your pyjamas shorts down your hips and kick them off clumsily, panties tangled in your damp folds as you writhe under him. 

You feel the breath catch in his broad chest at the peek of your pussy, a rapidly growing damp spot darkening your cotton underwear. Hooking his thumb under the fabric, he tugs it unceremoniously to the side, baring you to him. 

‘Look at all this,’ he marvels, tracing the fleshy pad of his thumb through your folds, making you arch clean off the table. ‘So wet for me and you’ve barely woken up.’

‘Been thinking about you the while night,’ you admit, hips twitching as you chase his touch. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘Did you touch yourself, darlin’?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘No. Wanted your fingers. Your cock.’

His nostrils flare at your answer, unabashedly possessive in the way he looms over you. 

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs into your throat, nosing the side of your neck while thick fingers thrum against your clit. ‘I was so hard for you the whole fuckin’ flight.’ 

As if to prove it to you - not that you need it - he rolls his hips into your inner thigh, the hard bulge undeniable.

You mewl, hooking your ankles around his waist. ‘Fuck me now, Jack - please.’

There’s a wordless fumble for the solid sterling flask bottle of his belt buckle, his usual level-headed composure nowhere to be found as he pushes down his jeans with shaking hands, just enough to pull his cock out of its denim confines - 

And then he thrusts home inside you.

After months of only your fingers, it’s a stretch. But what a delicious stretch it is.

You feel him throb deep inside you, feel the thunder of a pained groan in his chest, pressed up against yours. Your cunt is all slick and give to his determined strokes as he begins to move. 

There’s no finesse, hardly any awareness, when he fucks frantically into you. His solid weight pins you to the table, and it rattles precariously under your back.

Your legs are splayed obscenely wide and bent at the knees while Jack pounds into your wet heat, eyes wild and mouth hanging open, watching your tits bounce as you take him, your nails digging into the cotton of his white t-shirt. He never did take off your panties, and the fabric rubs your clit just so with every one of his thrusts, rapidly sending you to the edge.

In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the coarse scrape of his jeans against your inner thighs, and something digs hard into the tender skin, the repeated motion dulling the sensation to an almost numb pressure. 

When you cum, you’re crying out before your head catches up, your body convulsing with blind bliss as your pussy clenches around him in a hot rush. The blood pounding in your ears is drowned out by your chants of his name, and then his hips start to stutter and his whole body tenses, frantic eyes on yours as he teeters on the edge. 

‘Where, darlin’?’

‘Inside me.’

The words have barely left you and he’s coming, broken pants against your lips as he comes and comes and comes - spilling inside you, filling you to the brim until he’s empty, turned inside out.

Slumped, boneless on top of you, humid pants pressed into your shoulder, his fingers tangle with yours, squeezing as if to let you know that he’s here.

You almost doze off, the gradually slowing rise and fall of the cowboy’s broad chest a comforting anchor, when he rouses you with gentle lips along your jaw. You giggle, feeling him softening and sliding out of you, making a mess of your kitchen table. 

‘Mornin’ darlin’,’ he says somewhat belatedly, warm eyes crinkling as he smiles at you.

‘Morning,’ you grin back, and when he shifts, you wince at the ache in your joints from being pinned to one spot for this very vigorous wake up call. His hands smooth over your legs in apology, and you jump when his fingertips brush over somewhere at the juncture of your upper thigh that is surprisingly sore.

‘What’s that?’ you ask, puzzled.

Jack doesn’t answer, curiously quiet. You look down to where he’s bracketed between your legs, watching him trace his index finger over the unmistakable imprint of his distinct belt buckle on the inside of your thigh, where it’s been digging into your skin the whole time. 

He glances at you. ‘I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

‘No, you didn’t,’ you give him a knowing grin. ‘And are you really sorry, cowboy?’

He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Gently pinching your swollen folds together, he groans when a milky bead of his cum dribbles out of you, running down the inside of your leg and smearing onto the flask-shaped impression.

‘Ain’t sorry about somethin’ that looks this good on you, darlin’.’

‘Could’ve asked me before you branded me, you know,’ you half-joke, running your own finger along the deep lines carved into your skin, for now.

‘Beggin’ your pardon, I tend to forget my manners when I’m balls deep in a pussy as sweet as yours,’ he retorts, one eyebrow arching when he feels you shiver at his words.

You huff in jest, ‘Doesn’t sound like much of an apology if you asked me.’

‘Whatcha want, darlin’? Me on my hands and knees for you?’

Heat flashes under your skin, from your cheeks down to your toes, and Jack’s eyes darken as his tongue wets his bottom lip. ‘Alright. I hear you loud and clear, ma’am.’

Slowly, he sinks onto his knees in front of you, his joints creaking endearingly as he goes, and you can’t help but tease, ‘Easy there, cowboy.’

The wicked tip of his tongue peeks out, and you bite your lip in a moan when it cleverly traces the outline of the belt buckle on your skin, ending in a playful nip that pulls a gasp from you.

With an unapologetically smug grin, Jack winks. ‘I’m only just gettin’ started, darlin’.’

Note: Thank you for reading ❤️ I’ve missed these two, and if you’re new to Palomino, I hope you’ll give the series a chance!

[getmeoutofhell]

Clowns in the Slasher House

warnings: clowns, body parts & cussing!

a/n: i’ve been wanting to do this so i hope you enjoy this! leave comments and request.

they all have their own separate rooms and floor in house.

you guessed it, they live in the basement. the basement has to be cleaned every damn friday, because if not, it’s gonna smell like ass and dodo.

now, let’s talk about who’s in the slasher house that’s a clown:

art the clown

penny

pennywise

the little girl

art & the little girl are the messiest out of all of them, and i stand by that. i mean, penny is very, very questionable, but art is more questionable.

sometimes they all play hide and seek, and invite you the play as well. penny is the best at it, since he can literally disappear if he so chooses to. but you had to tell him not to because that’s cheating.

pennywise is usually gone so he doesn’t join often with you guys. but when he does, he’s not the best at the game, but definitely not the worst.

art sometimes uses his hands to cover his face, pretending that he’s hiding. you think it’s funny and adorable, and you sometimes play along with it, pretending you can’t see him.

“oh dangit, i have no idea where art could be. i guess i’ll go look upstairs.” you see him giggle like a school girl before going up stairs.

the little girl likes you, and she’s more comfortable around you & art than anyone else in the house. she likes to tug on your pants leg if she wants something. you still haven’t thought of a name for her yet, but you’re working on it.

another thing about art is that you have to remind him to take his dirty ass clown shoes off when he enters the house. they’re covered with mud and other shit (literally) so it’s a constant thing you have to do to protect the rugs and carpet in the house.

you don’t have to worry about the other adult clowns and their shoes because they can make the dirt disappear in a blink of an eye.

art & the little girl make a lot of weird gifts and passes them to everyone. sometimes it’s a dead persons liver, sometimes it’s someone’s big toe that art collected. you’ll never know what you may get with him.

weekly showers. i don’t care how much art fusses his stanky ass is getting in that damn shower. every time you make art get in the shower, the other clowns laugh at him. arts reaction is to just flip them off, so that’s entertaining to watch.

penny likes to scare the others all the time. you can never get used to it because it’s always something different with him all the time. pennywise sometimes joins in on pennys little pranks but often penny does it to pennywise.

water gun fights!! especially since it’s hot out, it’s the perfect time to have some fun outside in the sun. just don’t forget the sun screen. i don’t know if the clowns would wear swim trunks but maybe you can convince them.

how can i forget the board game nights!! well art…he doesn’t like the board games much. but when he does play, he cheats. well, try’s to at least.

let’s say you’re playing uno and you’re sitting by art. you see out the corner of your eye art peek over next to you at your cards. “art don’t you dare.” he smiles before looking away.

the little girl is smarter than most people realize. she knows a lot, and does a lot. she knows when you’re depressed and sometimes will sit next to you as a type of comfort.

they like to play tag and run around the house every damn where and tear up shit.

*glass shatters* “oh my god what broke now?” you say annoyed.

should i do a part 2?

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Riding a Vaquero. || Alejandro Vargas

Rating: E Words: 2.4K~ Pairing: Alejandro x F!Reader CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. crack + smut, piv (protected), oral sex (m!receiving), throat fucking, cumming (f! and m!), swallowing cum, praise? ('that's it'), Spanish terms of endearment (nena, mamacita, vaquerita + caballito). other tags: crack, one night stand, dating app, flirting, roasting/mockery/slander of Alejandro. summary: You meet Alejandro on a dating app. Despite roasting the crap out of him he still lets you ride him :) a/n: Inspired by my "It's a Match!" fic... but very loosely and also it's so much fucking worse. + Thank you to @loveandplanet for helping me write this because I was struggling, my goodness.

Friday night. 5:30 PM.

You just got home from work and threw yourself on the couch before even making yourself dinner.

You're tired and bored and sort of... lonely.

The perfect cocktail of emotions to make you dip a toe back into the dark, cesspool of a lake that is the only dating app you keep on your phone: Tinder.

Slowly, you begin swiping away on the pictures of men on your screen.

Most of them are gym bros, there's a few nerds... You're pretty sure they're great, they seem it, you're sure they'd offer wonderful company and conversation over a quick meal...

But for the sake of what you're looking for, they might as well have a sign stamped on their face reading "[ Boring ]".

Boring. Boring. Boring.

That's when you see him.

Alejandro.

A handsome man, older, with crow's feet, and deep laugh lines, and a broad nose, and a bit of grey already creeping onto his beard... or maybe it's just the lighting? Either way, he looks... delicious.

So, you scroll down to read what his bio has to say.

A soldier, originally from Las Almas... 6ft tall... And a good cook... Looks like you've just caught yourself a two-in-one... A dinner and... if his bio is anything to go off of, a one night stand.

Although that bio...

You find yourself swiping right and in an instant, your phone displays a 'It's a Match!' screen, signalling that he liked you back.

You open your DM with him and carefully type a message:

you:

"Do you know your bio has a typo? You wrote horse twice."

His reply was surprisingly quick, almost like he was already in the DM screen as well, waiting for you to reply:

Alejandro:

"I know. I did it on purpose so people would DM me to correct me." "Pretty sure it increased the amount of women reaching out to me." "Women like you."

Cocking a brow, you can't help but scoff. Of course, he uses that typo as an ice-breaker!

No wonder he answered so quick! He was already anticipating you'd call his attention to his typo...

Sitting up on the couch again, you shift your weight and sit into a more focused position, leaning forward, before you type out an answer.

It has to be witty. It has to be funny. It has to catch him off guard...

...

you:

"That explains it." "And now that I got that out of the way..." "Is your forehead really that big or is it just the angle?"

You set your phone down on the coffee table in front of you and bite your lip, hoping that your comment wouldn't have pushed him too far...

A couple of new messages pop onto the left side of the screen in a row, causing you to lean forward to read them.

Alejandro:

"Excuse me?" "I bet you wouldn't say that to my face."

Trying not to giggle, you carefully grab the phone and type another reply:

you:

"More like say it to your forehead you mean?"

You wonder if you're going too far.

He's the first and only interesting guy you've found on Tinder today, the only one that you didn't deem boring upon one glance of their face and bio...

What are you even doing, making fun of him like this?

What if that just causes him to unmatch and block you?

What if-

Alejandro:

"I've never in my entire life been spoken to like this." "Other than when I was a boy pissing off my sisters." "And I hate to say that I sort of like it."

Your eyebrows raise and your eyes widen, feeling like you somehow just caught the biggest fish in the lake by blindly throwing in the lure and reeling it back out when you decided you should.

Sheer fucking luck.

you:

"I have more of those if you'd like." "Can keep going all night just making fun of you."

He paused again for a moment before replying with:

Alejandro:

"And you wouldn't run out of things to say?"

you:

"I'm sure I wouldn't."

Alejandro:

"And what would I have to give you in return for this to happen?"

you:

"Cook me dinner?"

Alejandro:

"Sounds like this was all a ploy to taste my food."

Taking a deep breath, you look around your room aimlessly, trying to hold back from saying the first thought that popped into your mind at reading that message...

But you can't help it.

And, hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

you:

"Maybe it's not just the food I'm planning on tasting."

Alejandro:

"Oh." "Maybe I'd like that."

you:

"Doesn't scare you?"

You almost patted yourself on the back for making a joke about his profile's stupid little 'if you think you're into something that scares me' line.

Alejandro:

"I'm an army colonel. Of course it doesn't scare me." "It just intrigues me." "You sure do look like you're starving. Who am I to deny you?"

Stifling a scoff and a bit of a groan, you reply with:

you:

"That line sounded straight out of a porno."

Alejandro:

"Haven't even cooked you dinner and you're beginning with the insults?" "You don't waste any time, huh?"

you:

"No and neither should you."

Alejandro:

"Then how about you let me cook you dinner right now?" "No stalling or wasting any more time."

Biting back a smirk, you shake your head in amusement.

you:

"Sounds good to me." "Address?"

-

"I was right, wasn't I, nena [babygirl]?" Alejandro asks as he looks down at you as you crouch before him in his kitchen.

You look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, muffled sounds escaping your lips as you keep your mouth stuffed with his cock.

"That's right... You really were starving..." He cooed as he looked down at you, his voice carrying a pleasant growl and gravel to it.

Your head is pressed nicely against the cupboards of his kitchen, as he carefully prepares pico de gallo for the tacos he's making the two of you for dinner.

You hadn't expected to end up in this position so soon after driving up to his house, a small 1-store casita with wooden frames and details and a wonderful little tiled patio out back.

You had expected some flirting, some jokes, you roasting him...

Instead, you had somehow ended up pressed against the kitchen counter with his tongue deep in your mouth and his hand up your shirt, fondling one of your breasts...

And now, here you were, perched on your own heels, with his big cock slowly and repeatedly bruising the back of your throat as you moaned softly around it... While he cooks dinner for the both of you like nothing's happening.

It's almost infuriating, how calm he seems, how he looks down at you with those stunning brown eyes of his, and a smug little smirk on his lips...

And yet, he also looks absolutely breathtaking, standing there in a charcoal grey button-up, the first few buttons popped open to reveal a generous speckling of chest hair and a golden crucifix and a few other chains resting over his pecs…

And the way the sweat pools on his brow, and slips down the side of his robust neck, and disappears under his collar…

The light of the setting sun, warm and orange toned, filters through the windows and illuminates his small home, warming it, and reflecting off his sweat, and shining so bright on him.

It almost doesn't get better than this... letting him fuck your throat against the cupboard while he cooks you a meal which, by the scent, will be delicious, proving he wasn't lying about being a good cook...

Setting your hand on his hip, you tap your fingers on his lower back, gesturing him to go deeper into your mouth.

He picks up on the signal and thrusts harder into your mouth, causing you to choke and gurgle around his large shaft, some saliva slowly slipping down the length and disappearing in the generous bush of hair at the base.

"Mmmm, you like when I make you choke, huh?" He coos as he wipes one of his hands on a tea towel and then grips your hair, protecting your head from bouncing back on the hard wood of the cabinet.

Then, his other hand holds onto the edge of the counter, fingers curling and tightening around it, to keep him upright, before he starts thrusting more decisively into your mouth.

Your eyes roll in delight as he bullies his way deep into your mouth in a more consistent and violent pace, his own head falling back and allowing him to grunt and groan as your throat tightens and constricts around him.

"¡Ay carajo! [Ah, fuck!]" Alejandro groans as he pulls your head closer to his crotch, burying your nose in the coarse hair at the base of his cock, keeping the tip buried deep inside your mouth.

Sputtering and gurgling around him, your hands find a perch on his hip, on either side, but, rather than pulling him off, you hold onto him, close and against you, your nails digging into the muscles of his ass cheeks through the fabric of his jeans.

Your tongue laps up at the underside of his cock just as it begins to throb, Alejandro groans above you, leaning his head on the upper cabinets as he slowly floods your mouth with his tangy cum, which slowly slides down your throat as you make an effort to swallow around him.

With a long exhale, Alejandro licks his lips and looks down at you as he slowly pulls his softening cock from your mouth, letting you finally catch a proper breath too.

"Your mouth is very talented, mamacita." He compliments you, a smirk already forming on his lips again, his hand reaching down to help you wipe some drool off your chin.

"Thank you." You reply with a chuckle and push yourself up to your feet, side stepping him as he tucks himself back into his jeans and resumes making you dinner.

"So... What were you saying about having a lot more insults to tell me?" He quips and smirks at you.

"Well, first of all, I could still see your forehead from all the way down there,"

-

You break the kiss in favor of carefully rocking back and forth on his dick, buried balls deep within your slick cunt.

His large hands grip onto your hip and thighs to continue moving you atop him, making your clit grinding against his pubic hair in a way that made you squirm and whine.

His head is leaning back on the back of his couch as he watches you make yourself feel good, overstimulating your sensitive clit with the help of the coarse hair on his pelvis, and feeling the tip of his slightly curved cock rub against your g-spot.

"You like that, hm, vaquerita [little cowgirl]?" He coos at you, as your head dips back and you moan softly, before bouncing up on his cock for a moment and sinking all the way down, drawing louder groans out of you both.

It's a surprisingly slow fucking session, probably because of your bellies are full and warm with the recent meal, and you just sort of stumbled your way onto the couch afterward, for a make-out session that turned to slow, lazy sex.

Leaning against Alejandro in the low sunlight as the afternoon turns into evening and the sun sets through the window, you rock your hips against his again and again.

Your lips find his for what must be the 50th time tonight. Your tongues intertwine as you huff and moan into his mouth, his fingers digging your thighs as he squeezes you down and rubs you onto him, back and forth.

Breaking the kiss, you set your head down on his shoulder. It's almost too intimate for a first time, but it's strangely nice. His skin feels nice and warm against you, albeit a bit dewy with sweat.

Your eyes look up at him as he relaxes his head back and grunts softly, continuing to guide your hip back and forth on his, to seek out extra friction for you both, and murmuring incoherent Spanish curses and words of praise.

Slowly, you find yourself leaning forward and lick a stripe up his neck toward his stubble-speckled jawline, feeling the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue, as, even now, he's still producing more and more little droplets that slide tantalizingly slowly down his tan skin.

Then, you lick across the bottom of his jaw and around to the back of it, then, your head lowers and you lick another stripe up his neck. Alejandro reacts the same every single time, with a soft shudder and a grunt, throwing his hips up into yours.

"Oh you like that, huh, vaquero [cowboy]?" You tease him this time, using his own words against him.

The look Alejandro shoots you at that quip makes it clear he didn't appreciate your sarcasm... What a shame.

You lean back, your hands coming to rest on his thighs behind you, before you start bouncing in fervor. It drives a groan out of him, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

His left hand goes to your waist to steady you while he brings his other hand up to your lower stomach, pressing down onto it and allowing him to feel himself through your walls.

His thumb finds its way to your clit, rubbing it side to side, as you continue carefully and steadily bouncing off his lap, his own thighs having stiffened and raised to allow you and easier time.

The slaps of your ass and his thighs meeting echos throughout the living room, along with the sounds of your and Alejandro's moans.

It's a slow build-up, the both of you too lazy to actually put in too much effort into chasing your orgasm, but, steadily, and with Alejandro's thumb consistently rubbing against your clit, you find yourself reaching your peak.

Alejandro watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, leaning back against the couch and a stupid smirk painted on his lips, seeming so smug over the fact he got you to fall apart on his cock...

Only to watch you dismount from him and take a seat beside him on the couch, your body feeling too hot and tired to even remain in touch with any part of his.

His smirk vanishes and he cocks a brow, giving you a silent, judgmental look, as if asking 'What are you doing? Get back here.'.

And his face downright settles into a scowl when you mirror him by raising your own brow and ask him "You're a colonel, you've got this, right? You don't need my help.".

And, with an extra little impish smile you add, "Don't be scared, I believe in you, caballito [horsie]!"

for @lyralein , so you stop fucking bullying me because I "never write Alejandro" or whatever 🫶

[its-avalon-08]

y/n neglecting danny boy, shes being a bitch abt it because of work. angst, happy ending

THANKS!

a inconvenience in your world (dr3)

✦ pairing - daniel ricciardo x female!reader

✦ genre - alot of angst, tears, neglect, happy ending

The faint scent of burnt toast hung in the air, a stark contrast to the usual aroma of freshly brewed coffee that greeted Daniel most mornings. He shuffled into the kitchen, his back already protesting the sudden movement. The Baku crash still lingered, a dull ache settling in his lower back every time he spent too long sitting or inactive.

Y/N was hunched over her laptop, brow furrowed in concentration. She glanced up at him briefly, a tired smile flickering across her face.

"Morning," she mumbled, her voice strained. "Big day?"

Daniel forced a smile, the gesture feeling stiff. "Usual training. You sure you can't make it for breakfast again?"

Y/N sighed, a flicker of frustration crossing her features. "Look, babe, I know we rescheduled last night, but this project is a monster. Maybe next week?"

Disappointment gnawed at him, but he pushed it down. "Yeah, sure. Text me when you're done, okay? We can grab dinner."

Y/N nodded absently, her eyes already glued back to the screen. "Sounds good."

two weeks later

Daniel scrolled through his phone, a growing sense of unease settling in his gut. Y/N's last text, a hurried apology for missing their planned movie night, had been three days ago. Calls went straight to voicemail, texts remained unanswered. He knew she was busy, but the complete lack of communication gnawed at him.

He finally caught her on a Wednesday evening, her voice breathless and clipped.

"Hey, Y/N, finally—"

"Daniel, I'm in the middle of something super important. Can we talk later?"

"But—"

The line went dead. He stared at the phone, a hollow feeling blooming in his chest. He tried texting again, a simple "thinking of you," but it remained stubbornly on "delivered" just like the others.

friday night

Exhaustion weighed on Daniel as he returned from training. He longed for a home-cooked meal, some quiet time with Y/N. But the apartment was empty, the silence broken only by the hum of the refrigerator. He reheated a leftover curry, the taste bland on his tongue. The once vibrant apartment felt cold and sterile, mirroring the distance growing between him and Y/N.

He sank onto the couch, picking up his phone. Y/N's social media profiles were a whirlwind of work updates and inspirational quotes, a curated life devoid of any mention of him. A sharp pang of jealousy stabbed at him, quickly followed by a wave of sadness. Where had the goofy selfies and mushy captions gone? Where had his sunshine smile gone?

a few days later

The slam of the front door echoed through the apartment, a punctuation mark to a fight Y/N didn't see coming. It had started innocently enough, the clatter of a plate hitting the counter as Daniel placed it in the drying rack.

"Seriously, Daniel?" Y/N snapped, her eyes glued to her laptop screen. "Couldn't you just leave it in the sink? I'm swamped here."

Daniel froze, the plate suspended mid-air. A deep frown creased his forehead, a stark contrast to the grimace he'd been trying to hide for the past hour. His lower back had been throbbing ever since his training session that morning, but adrenaline and the hope of spending some quality time with Y/N had kept him going. Now, both the pain and his hope were fading fast.

"Y/N," he started, his voice strained, "it would have taken two seconds to put it away."

"Ugh, not this again," she sighed, finally tearing her gaze away from the screen. "Look, I appreciate you making dinner, but I'm on a deadline. Can we talk about this later?"

Daniel stared at her, his jaw clenched. "Later? That seems to be our new thing, doesn't it? Later for dinner, later for that movie you promised, later for even a simple conversation."

Y/N bristled. "Don't make this about you. I have a very demanding job right now."

"Demanding?" Daniel scoffed, his voice laced with hurt. "Who just spent the last two weeks glued to that laptop, cancelling every date night, blowing off my calls mid-conversation because of some 'urgent' email?"

Y/N opened her mouth to retort, then stopped. The accusation hung heavy in the air, a truth she couldn't deny. Shame burned in her gut, hot and unwelcome.

"Look," she started placatingly, "I know I've been distant, but this project is huge. Once it's over—"

"Once it's over?" Daniel cut her off, his voice tight with a mix of anger and pain. "What about me, Y/N? When was the last time you even asked how my back was after that crash in Baku?"

Y/N flinched. A vague memory of a news report about the crash flickered in her mind, but the details were hazy, lost in the sea of emails and reports flooding her inbox.

"I, uh…" she stammered, guilt twisting in her stomach. "You said you were fine."

A humorless laugh escaped Daniel's lips. "Right, because superheroes don't feel pain, do they?" He slammed the plate down on the counter, the clatter echoing in the tense silence. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

"I do everything for you, Y/N," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "Cook your meals, clean the apartment, manage your schedule – all while training and racing across the globe. But apparently, that's not enough. Because apparently, I'm just a fucking inconvenience to fit in between your precious deadlines."

Tears streamed down Y/N's face, a dam finally breaking. The words hit her like a physical blow, the truth stinging worse than any deadline.

"Daniel, I—" she started, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

"Just save it," he said, his voice raw. "I need some air."

He stormed out of the apartment, leaving Y/N alone in the deafening silence. The echo of his words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the love she'd been neglecting, the connection she'd taken for granted. The laptop screen glowed accusingly, its light failing to penetrate the suffocating darkness that had settled around her.

The deafening silence that followed Daniel's departure pressed in on Y/N, heavy and suffocating. The laptop screen remained a dull beacon, its light failing to pierce the shame that gnawed at her. She numbly pushed herself to her feet, drawn to the kitchen counter where the forgotten plate stood.

Her gaze drifted around the room, finally seeing for the first time in weeks. The dishes were gleaming, not a single one left in the sink. The fridge hummed contentedly, stocked with fresh groceries. Panic clawed at her throat. This wasn't takeout night. This was Daniel, anticipating her needs, taking care of them without a single complaint.

She stumbled through the apartment, every corner revealing another silent testament to his love. Folded laundry sat neatly on the couch, a stark contrast to the usual clutter. Her work papers, once scattered across the dining table, were now organized into neat stacks on her desk, a laptop charger coiled beside them - fully charged, a silent reassurance.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. How could she have been so blind? He'd become an invisible pillar, supporting her life while his own needs went unnoticed. Grabbing her phone, she dialed his number, her heart pounding in her chest. But there was no answer, only the cold, impersonal voice of voicemail.

Panic twisted into a knot in her stomach. She couldn't wait. She threw on a jacket, her phone clutched in her hand as she sprinted out the door. His favourite park, their usual coffee shop, all flashed through her mind, rejected one after another. Where would he go?

Suddenly, a memory surfaced. A conversation weeks ago, about a quiet spot by the river he'd discovered during training. With renewed hope, she hailed a cab, directing the driver to the location.

It was a small clearing, a patch of green tucked away from the city's bustle. As she approached, a choked sob escaped her lips. Daniel sat on a weathered bench, head buried in his hands, his broad shoulders slumped. Even from a distance, she could see the tremor that ran through him.

The river shimmered in the fading light, casting a golden sheen on the tears that streamed down Y/N's face. Daniel sat beside her, a tense silence stretching between them, broken only by the gentle gurgling of the water. Finally, Y/N broke the quiet, her voice thick with emotion.

"Daniel, I..." she started, her voice catching. "I don't even know where to begin."

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. The vibrant blue of his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, was clouded with hurt.

"You could start with an apology," he said, his voice low and controlled.

Y/N flinched. "I am apologizing, Daniel. From the bottom of my heart. I was so caught up in work, in this damn deadline, that I completely lost sight of everything else. I neglected you, ignored your needs, and for that, I am truly sorry."

A bitter laugh escaped Daniel's lips. "Sorry doesn't quite cut it, Y/N. You weren't just a little busy. You were completely absent. Remember all those cancelled dinners? The calls I practically had to beg you to answer? The constant feeling that I was just an inconvenience in your schedule?"

Y/N's head hung low, the weight of his words crushing her. "I know," she whispered. "I have no excuse. I just… work became this monster, this all-consuming thing that stole everything from me, including my ability to see what was right in front of me."

"And what exactly was in front of you, Y/N?" he asked, his voice laced with a barely suppressed anger. "Because all I saw was a woman who didn't have a single moment to spare for the man who loves her."

Shame burned in Y/N's gut. "No, that's not true. You… you're the most important person in my life. You're my best friend, my confidante, the person I want to share everything with. But I let work come between us, creating a wall I didn't even realize I was building."

Daniel remained silent, his gaze unwavering. Y/N reached for his hand, but he pulled away, a flicker of pain crossing his face.

"You know," he began, his voice tight, "the worst part wasn't the missed dates or the cancelled plans. It was seeing you come home exhausted, glued to that laptop, barely acknowledging my presence. It made me feel invisible, like I didn't matter."

Y/N's heart ached. The image of him, sitting alone at the dinner table she never made it to, fueled the fire of shame within her.

"I see that now," she choked out. "And the truth is? You do matter, Daniel. More than anything. You're my rock, my anchor, the sunshine that makes my world brighter. I was just… so foolish to take it all for granted."

"Love shouldn't be taken for granted, Y/N," he said, his voice softening slightly. "It needs nurturing, attention. It needs to be a two-way street."

Y/N nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. "I understand that now. And I'm willing to put in the work, Daniel. To make things right. To show you just how much you mean to me."

He looked at her, a flicker of hope fighting its way through the pain in his eyes. "Actions speak louder than words, Y/N. Can you prove it?"

"Yes," she said, her voice firm with conviction. "I'll prove it every single day. I'll set boundaries with work, prioritize our time together, and be the partner you deserve. I won't let my career overshadow our love."

Daniel sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It won't be easy, Y/N. Trust takes time to rebuild."

"I know," she agreed. "But I'm willing to put in the time, as long as you are."

Silence fell again, but this time, it was different. It wasn't a tense gap, but a space for contemplation, for a shared breath.

Finally, Daniel reached for her hand, his touch gentle but firm. "I… I want this to work, Y/N. But I need you to understand, if this happens again, if work takes over once more, then I can't keep going down this same path."

Y/N squeezed his hand tightly. "I understand. It won't happen again. I promise."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the river, a fragile hope blossomed between them. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with open communication, a commitment to change, and the unwavering flame of love.

The last rays of the sun painted the river a fiery orange, mirroring the burning intensity in Daniel's eyes. Y/N held her breath, waiting for his answer, the weight of her apology heavy in the air.

Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the burden of weeks, Daniel reached out. Not for her hand, but for her. He pulled her close, engulfing her in a hug that spoke volumes more than any words could.

His arms wrapped around her tightly, his hold a mixture of relief and lingering hurt. Y/N buried her face in his chest, the familiar scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body a sudden comfort.

"Just… don't do it again, alright?" he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "Work will always be there, but you… you're irreplaceable."

Y/N nodded, tears soaking into his shirt. "Never again, Daniel. I promise."

He loosened his grip slightly, tilting her head back to look at him. His eyes, the color of a summer sky after a storm, were still troubled, but a flicker of forgiveness danced within them.

"You scared me, Y/N," he confessed, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. "The thought of losing you… it was unbearable."

A choked sob escaped her lips. "I love you, Daniel. More than words can say. Don't you ever doubt that."

He cupped her face in his hands, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "I know you do," he whispered, his voice husky. "And that's why this matters so much. Because I love you too, Y/N. More than racing, more than anything in this world."

He leaned in then, his lips brushing hers in a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with forgiveness, with a renewed promise, and most importantly, with a love that had weathered the storm and emerged stronger.

As they pulled apart, foreheads resting together, a gentle breeze ruffled their hair. The setting sun cast an orange glow on their intertwined figures, a symbol of a new beginning, a love story rekindled with the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

[cillianhead]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write a little smutty/angsty something for Neil Lewis. Maybe bestfriend!reader, who recently got with some other man, and Neil is incredibly jealous and maybe... possessive. 👀 Some angst heated argument finished with a smut would be lovely. 🤭

Thank you!

Of course, of course!

Thank you for your request!

You're The Only One Who Makes Me Feel Alive || Neil Lewis x Reader

warnings: Smut, angst, best friends to lovers, swearing, slight (?) drug use (marijuana), jealousy, unprotected P in V, Neil is quite obsessed with reader's boobs (because c'mon, NEIL IS A BOOB MAN!!!) like sort of switch!neil but not quite, adult content!

18+ Minors DNI

It was a slow Friday night at Gumshoe Video. You had closed by now, though. You sat between Lucien and Jonathan, a bit stoned, and watched some horrible Horror-Parody film called 'Bad Taste'. You had zoned out, drowning out Jonathan and Lucien's incessant bickering about the film and whether it was good or bad.

"-It's Peter Jackson, for Christ's sake. It's a masterpiece of its time or whatever," Lucien argued. Jonathan just scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's supposed to be ridiculous!" Lucien protested.

"Are we watching the same movie?" Jonathan grunted with a hint of amusement. "How the hell did someone see this and think... 'yeah, that's the guy we're getting for Lord of the fucking Rings'!"

Lucien quipped back something particularly witty and sarcastic, but it all turned into one big blur of words to you. You were incredibly bored and stoned that none of what was happening on the TV screen made sense. You looked like a zombie, lips parted and an expression of awe on your face.

"Not this stupid movie," You heard the sound of Neil's voice from behind you. Quickly sitting up and turning to look at him, like an expectant dog when its owner comes home. "I've got the snacks if you guys even care." Lucien and Jonathan grumble their words of appreciation while you just sat and smiled at your best friend.

You all had smoked together, but you hadn't really prepared for the munchies that would come along with it. So you flipped a coin, and poor little Neil was the one who had to go to the nearest convenience store and buy as much junk food as he could carry. Two seafoam green plastic grocery bags were hanging off of Neil's sturdy forearms that said 'Recycle Me!' on them while he stood, smiling back at you.

"What'd you get Neily-poo?" You hummed, standing up and approaching him.

"I hate it when you call me that," Neil grumbled before handing you one of the bags. "I just got all the classic snacks... Cheetos, Twizzlers, Lucien's favorite white chocolate... and of course, I got your favorite..."

You squealed out of delight, lunging on Neil and wrapping your arms around him. "Did you really?" You said, pulling away with your arms still around his neck. Neil hummed while pulling the familiar mouth-watering box of Swedish Fish out of the grocery bag.

You properly pulled away now and snatched it out of his hand greedily. "Hey...! Wait... where's my thanks?" He tilted his head, tapping his pointer finger on the apple of his cheek. You rolled your eyes playfully before placing a grateful peck on his cheek.

You two sat on the spare couch together. You leaned against Neil, as you always do, your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you. It had always been that way with you two, both very physically affectionate with each other. Though not when Neil was in a relationship, you knew how threatened his girlfriends felt by you, though you never understood why... Neil was always insistent on how you were just a friend, even going as far as to say you were like a sister to him.

When the movie ended and Neil had a bit more to smoke, you all sat around munching on your snacks, thinking of what to do next.

"Do you guys wanna come over to my place, and we can do this again tomorrow night?" Neil asked, scratching at his chin.

"Sure, I'd love that, dude," Jonathan nodded before popping a handful of peanut M&M's into his mouth. "Sounds great." He said with his mouth full.

"Gross!" You scolded, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. "Don't eat with your mouth full..."

"What did you just say?" Lucien laughed.

"I mean... don't talk with your mouth full!" You corrected, and everyone sat around giggling at that. "You knew what I meant!" Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment at your mistake.

"...and yeah, I'll come over tomorrow night." Lucien said to Neil. Neil gave him a thumbs up before turning his head over to you.

"How about you, Y/N?" Neil hummed, sighing as he leaned his head against the couch, cheek smushing a bit as he smiled softly down at you. He's so pretty, I just wanna kiss him, You thought."You wanna come over?" Yikes, you thought. You bit your lip and sucked in a breath. "Well... I... well... actually, I've got plans tomorrow, guys... I'm sorry." You shrugged apologetically.

"What?" Jonathan murmured, mouth still full, chewing obnoxiously loud.

"Since when do you have plans?" Lucien remarked. You gave him a dry smile.

"I'm going on a date... believe it or not," You snorted, looking down at your lap, embarrassed to admit. You never really talked about your love life with the guys, especially not Neil. Things always got awkward. Neil never discussed his with you either; you'd only briefly meet his girlfriends, and then that was it. You didn't understand why it had to be so awkward between you when discussing dating.

The room went silent at that. You looked towards Neil, his arm retracted away from you and tucked back into his side as you noticed the frown on his face. You could see the look on Jonathan and Lucien's faces, eyes flickering between the two of you, trying to gauge some sort of reaction.

"Oh..." Neil mumbled, sounding disappointed, popping a popcorn kernel into his mouth and chewing dryly. "Good for you... congratulations..."

"We're not getting married," You laughed uncomfortably. "Plus, I doubt it's gonna be anything that special... we're going to some downtown dive bar to have drinks and then probably go back to his place or something..." Neil had a visible expression of distaste, fiddling with his thumbs. You didn't get why he was so upset. "What's his name?" He said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Russell."

"Russell." He repeated coldly. Jonathan and Lucien were utterly silent. The tension was thick, and trying to waft through it felt suffocating.

"Why are you upset?" You blurted out. "Can't you at least be happy for me for once that I'm finally fucking going out with somebody?"

""Course I'm happy for you, Y/N, I just don't want you... to get hurt..." Neil muttered. "That's all."

"Right." You scoffed, scooting to the other side of the couch.

The tension was unbearable, and Jonathan shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Things always got weird when you brought up a guy you like or a guy you were seeing. You never got why. Why would Neil be upset that you were seeing somebody? How many girlfriends did you have to sit and watch him be with? How many painful breakups have you comforted him through? How many times had you encouraged him to go over and talk to a girl he thought was pretty? A countless amount of times, that's what. So the fact that the mood visibly shifted as soon as you said you were going on a date... it pissed you off. Neil was never encouraging when it came to putting yourself out there romantically. It was almost like he was jealous, but you knew he had no reason to be.

"How'd you meet?" Lucien cleared his throat, trying to lighten the air.

"Well when I was here alone the other day... he was in the shop-"

"He was in the shop?" Neil interrupted with a whine, eyebrows knitted together.

"Yeah, he was, so what?" You turned and looked at Neil, glaring at him.

"Can't believe you're going out with a customer," Neil muttered. "Thought you were better than that." "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"It... no... nothing, just-" "God forbid I meet someone!" You were standing up now. Lucien and Jonathan had gotten up and wandered over to the other side of the shop, pretending they were browsing the shelves. "How many fucking bimbos have you asked out that had come in here, Neil?" "Y/N-" "I'm leaving." You barked, grabbing your things and rushing out, not before giving Lucien and Jonathan a gentle wave before slamming the door and walking home in the pouring rain.

The walk home was long and treacherous. Usually, Neil would drive you home. But you couldn't stand to be around him right now, not after his hypocritical words. When you got home, you collapsed in bed, still in your wet clothes, and cried your eyes out. Thunder cracked outside, and your windows rattled with the harsh wind. Your phone began to ring, the familiar ringtone you assigned to Neil's contact buzzing through your pocket. You just groaned.

"Go away, Neil." You grunted into your pillow, bickering to no one. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Curling up into a ball, the tears continued to fall. You hated the way you felt towards Neil; you hated that you wanted him to be more than just a friend. Your phone kept ringing, and it only made you cry harder.

You remembered freshman year of high school when you first met Neil; you instantly clicked and were in every class together. Everyone always thought you were dating, and you'd both share a round of 'Ew's and 'That's never gonna happen' and then silently look at each other thinking 'What if' (unbeknownst to each other). You always daydreamed about losing your virginity to Neil, the scrawny, awkward pimply boy who was the sweetest guy you'd ever met, though you ended up losing it to some guy called Lloyd over a dare. It wasn't very romantic, nor was it pleasurable. You just laid there and thought about Neil the whole time.

The sleep you got that night was terrible, but you tried to focus on the positives. You were going on a date! Yay! Not with Neil, though. You spent the day mostly picking out an outfit, mentally scolding yourself for not deciding on it sooner since most of your good clothes were dirty and you were feeling incredibly antsy. Your phone had been blowing up all day. Texts from Neil, Jonathan, and Lucien lit up your screen every other second. You didn't reply, you couldn't, you felt entirely too embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Lucien lounged on the couch at Neil's house, and Jonathan watched Neil pace back and forth in his kitchen while making handmade whipped cream. They were going to make a cake.

"I just don't know what to do, man," Neil huffed, stirring the bowl even more aggressively. Jonathan watched, unsure of how to comfort his friend. "What the fuck do I do? What if this guy is like... her soulmate or something cliche like that?"

"Okay," Jonathan laughed, putting his hand in the air. "Russell is not her soulmate." "How do you know? Have you met him?" Neil hissed back.

"No, but... how do we even know this 'Russell' guy even exists? What if she's just trying to make you jealous?"

"That's a good point!" Lucien quipped in from the other room.

"Thanks, Lucien," Jonathan rolls his eyes before looking back at Neil, who has set the bowl aside, melting to the floor with tears. "Look... dude, I think you should go over there and tell her how you feel... the worst she can say is no..."

"The worst she can say is no," Neil mocked, tears streaming down his face. "Yeah fuckin' right! She's gonna..." Neil sobbed, hiding his hands in his face. "I'll go over there, and she'll... never want to speak to me again... she wouldn't feel the same way... it's impossible!"

Jonathan looked exasperated. It was painfully apparent to everyone but you and Neil that you two were soft for each other. You usually spend every day together. The idea of losing you to some other guy was heartbreaking for Neil. Neil cried like a baby, and Jonathan watched, awkwardly leaning against the counter, unsure what to say.

"Just fucking do it, you fucking idiot!" Jonathan blurted out. "I know she likes you... do you really think Y/N would've stuck around this long with us losers if she didn't feel something for you?"

"I don't know, Jonathan..." Neil whimpers, looking up at Jonathan with the most pitiful eyes anyone has ever seen. He looked straight out of a painting.

"And even if she doesn't feel the same for you..." Jonathan continues, crouching down to be at his height on the floor. "You guys have known each other way too damn long to just throw away a good friendship over you liking her. Y/N's a smart girl. She'll learn to accept it if she doesn't feel the same way."

Neil just buried his face further into his knees, continuing to cry. "Gee, you'd think he just got his period or something." Lucien said unhelpfully.

"Shut up, Lucien!" Neil and Jonathan yelled in unison.

"Listen, I think you should just tell her... she ain't responding to any of my texts... and I don't know how it's gonna go with this Russell guy tonight, so I reckon you should head on over there..." Jonathan rambled. Neil still stayed in the same place, with his head in his hands. "Like right now!" Jonathan yelped, and Neil jumped at the sudden shift in volume and tone.

Neil approached your house as you sat in some dive bar, waiting for your date. His key twisted your locked door. Unbeknownst to him, the house was completely empty. And as he walked in, Russell was yet to arrive, over twenty minutes late to your date. At this point, you'd accepted that you had been stood up and patted yourself down, ensuring you had everything you brought.

"Y/N!" Russell's voice greets you, clearly out of breath. "I'm so sorry for being late... traffic was awful." Yeah, right, you thought. But you gave him a small smile and sat back in your booth. "That's alright," You pressed down your skirt that rested uncomfortably high on your thighs, trying to calm your nerves. The leather of the seats stuck to your thighs as Russell began making small talk. How boring. You found yourself zoning out as you downed the drink Russell had bought you just to try and cope with the terribly grim situation you were dealing with. Russell was some sort of accountant. Just the idea of finance lulled your brain into a state of boredom and borderline sleepiness. Russell's voice was monotone, and the way he licked his cracked lips every time he spoke made you feel queasy.

Meanwhile, Neil sat on your couch, spread out and feeling hopeless. No other person could ever compare to you, never ever, ever, ever. The thought of you meeting this guy he didn't know anything about except for his god-awful name and possibly hitting it off... maybe starting a life with him... the jealousy was sickening. Genuinely sickening.

It was festering within him, after all these years of watching men come into the store and flirt with you, the jealousy... the possessiveness... that another man talking to his Y/N... brought on was just too much for poor little Neil to handle. The jealousy was now fuelling the reason he still stayed. As soon as you walked through that door, with Russell or not, he'd get on his hands and knees... and beg you to love him... beg you to love him the way he loves you.

An hour went by... and then another, by now, it was nearing 10:30 PM, and Neil wasn't even sure if you were coming home. He then remembered your words of 'going back to his place afterwards' and felt like the biggest idiot in the whole world. He felt like he had lost you... like he was mourning you. His heart broke silently, and the heavyweight in his chest grew to be too intense, too blue to even cry. So he stood up and sighed, looking around your apartment before saying his goodbyes. I won't be over much now that she has a boyfriend, Neil thought. But as he turned around, about to walk out the door, there you stood with your key still in the lock looking at him like you'd look at an angel.

"Neil?" You asked softly as if it could possibly be anyone else.

"Y/N," He gasped, rushing to you, hands reaching out to you. "Please listen to what-" "Who's this?" Russell asks with a scoff, leaning on the doorway. Neil backed away like he had just entered a cock-fight he knew he couldn't win.

"Russell..." You shifted to look at him. "I think it's better if you just go... we can... we can see each other another time." "Yeah, alright," Russell shrugged, playing it cool but Neil saw the flicker of annoyance flash through the man's eyes. Russell turned back around and left, leaving the two of you alone.

"What are you doing here, Neil?" You chided, closing the door and deadbolting it behind you before walking over to the couch with Neil.

"I... I need to talk to you..." Neil whispered. You sat right beside each other, staring into each other's eyes. A feeling grew in your chest like you knew what he was about to say. "Y/N..."

"Neil..."

"I..." He faltered, his eyes looking down at his lap as he reached out, holding both your hands in his. Your heart did a spin at this, lips parted as you breathed heavily. What is happening? "I.... fuck... I don't know how to do this," Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, clearly about to cry. "I've watched so many goddamn movies you'd think I... you'd think I'd have the right thing to say."

"Neil," You whispered, your voice coming out like a warning. "Just say it."

Neil looked up at you, speechless. The expression on his face was truly indescribable. Almost like a dramatic build-up, the room was silent, giving each other this look. This look you had never openly given to each other before.

"I don't want to kill my time with anybody else," Neil began, taking deep breaths. The sounds of cars passing by and trees swaying in the wind could be heard, along with the pounding of your heart. "You're the only one who makes me feel alive."

"Neil," You warned, looking away from him. "Why now?" You blurted out, quickly smacking your hand over your loose mouth.

"Wha...?" Neil asked, torn completely out of the moment by just those two words.

"Why are you telling me this now?" You questioned. Your hands ran down your face. "Why, Neil, Why?"

"What do you mean?" Neil shook his head, eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?!"

You were standing up now, you couldn't be close to him, you felt too dizzy. "After all these years... why are you only telling me this now?"

"I-I... I..." Neil stammered, utterly speechless this time. He wasn't expecting this reaction, he couldn't quite place what you were feeling. "I was afraid, Y/N."

"Of what?" You raised your voice and he flinched and suddenly the guilt hit you like a freight train. Tears fell down your face, ruining your makeup.

"Of losing you! Losing the only person in my life who actually matters!" Neil stood up as well, approaching you. Like a game of cat and mouse, you stepped away while he kept trying to round the coffee table to get to you. "I need you, Y/N. I need you to know how badly," He pleaded with you, but you couldn't find a way to let him further into your heart. He'd hit bone if he went any further into it.

"Neil, I don't know anymore! You're so confusing!" You screeched as he bumped into you, knocking you down onto the couch and he knelt in front of you, pleading eyes staring up at you. "I don't know what you want from me!" You cried.

"I want everything," He whispered, hands placed on both of your thighs. "I want to be yours... I want you to be mine. How do I make this any clearer?"

"I don't... I don't have you," You felt like you were being torn apart. "You don't want me. You just... you're just confused! You don't want me! You want..." You closed your eyes, thinking about the women Neil had dated. You felt like he wouldn't be satisfied with you... you felt like you weren't pretty enough or you were too boring or too familiar. "I don't have you... Neil... and I never will."

"You've always had me. Every second of every day... you've had me. I'm yours." Neil whispered, hands squeezing your thighs. "Please. I need to know."

"Need to know what?" "That you'll take me," His fingers travelled further up your goosebump-covered skin. "That you'll let me in, Y/N."

"How?" Your hands shook as you looked him in the eye again. This time... it felt like you were looking at a completely different man. It was no longer just your best friend you were looking at... but the man pleading with you to love him as if you hadn't been silently loving him from afar... all these years.

"Please let me show you."

Neil used his hands to balanced himself as he slowly and intimately leaned in, lips brushing yours every-so slightly. "Neil..." You whispered.

"Shh...." He hushed.

And your lips joined together. It felt like your body had let him in, like he was rewriting your DNA and letting every part of him consume you. He sat beside you now, cradling you in his arms as you kissed slowly. This was all so new to you, unlike any other kiss you had ever experienced. Every other kiss before this just felt like you were trying to negotiate something... but this... this kiss felt like your body had found its missing limb like it had found what it had been lacking all these years.

A string of spit connects the two of you as Neil softly pulls away, panting for breath. "Am I in yet?" He chuckled.

You tilted your head, squinting and stroking your chin, pretending you were struggling to decide. "Maybe... I don't know yet... think you'll have to try harder..." Your voice was still a bit shaky from crying. "Alright," He snorts before diving back in and kissing you rougher this time but still in that romantic, slow way. One hand placed on your hip and the other guiding the back of your head as you made out. Tongues pawing at each other like they were getting acquainted.

"Please touch me," Neil whimpered into your lips, and oh fuck, that was the most divine noise you had ever heard. "Please." "Only 'cause you asked so nicely..." You hummed, pushing him down and straddling him. You watched as he threw his head back, biting his lip and holding back the noises he so desperately wanted to make at the feeling of you sitting on him. Your fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, watching him writhe underneath you at only the slightest touch. You popped each button out individually and slowly until Neil was groaning with annoyance.

"Don't be such a tease, Y/N," Neil grunted from behind gritted teeth once you had his shirt off. "If you felt how hard my dick was right now-"

"Oh, I do!" You giggled cheekily, slowly rolling your pelvis in a slow circle right over the tent in his trousers that poked into your thigh.

"You fucker-" He groaned, reaching his arms up and grabbing your head roughly and pulling you into a soul-sucking kiss, tongue grappling at yours desperately.

You moaned through dancing lips as you had the most delicious friction going. Neil was being just as loud as you, whimpers vibrating through your sternum and into your soul. Neil bucks his hips up pathetically before he breaks the kiss abruptly.

"You've gotta stop or I'm... I'm gonna..." He buried his muzzle in your neck and moaned. "I'm gonna fuckin cum in my pants." "Oh yeah?" You grinned, grinding your hips even faster.

"That means stop!" He grabs ahold of your wrists and flips you around like you were in a wrestling competition. You gasped out as he had you down against your couch, panting heavily above you with that frustrated-and-horny look. "I knew you'd be a little brat." He spat menacingly before grinning like a puppy, leaning down and kissing you heavily.

You ran your hands up your shirt, trying to pull your shirt off which made Neil pull away slowly when he realized you were taking your top off. "Are you sure?" He said breathily, above you, mouth wide open and his eyes glued on every inch of skin that was slowly being revealed more and more. You just nodded your head and smiled. "Oh fuck, you're showing me your boobs." Neil's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop. "Neil," You giggled as you got the top off and out came your tits, and there was Neil sitting there in disbelief at the sight of your boobs. "Neil!" You laughed, hitting him with a cushion; he smacked it away before looking back down at them with this look that almost resembled a look of horror. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Fucking hell, this is the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil chirped. "Fuck... please, Y/N... please let me squeeze them."

"Go ahead, Neil, touch me," You hummed, raising your arms above your head and leaning back with a Cheshire cat grin as his hands slowly and cautiously cusp your boobs. He let out a soft moan and let his eyes flutter shut as he slid his hands over your breasts, you could hear his breath hitch as his thumb slid over your hard nipples. "You're acting like you haven't touched a boob before," You snickered.

"Oh, believe me, I have..." Neil nodded, eyes open now and staring at your tits like he was high. "Just none as good as these..." He leaned in, hot breath fanning your left breast, lips parted but he doesn't go any further than that.

"Put it in your mouth, pretty boy," You demanded, and like the sub you always thought he was, he obeyed with a smile. "Fuck... that's it." The tops of his cheeks were flushed a gentle pink as he sucked and swirled his tongue around your nipple. "Mmm...." He hummed, eyes closed. His full body weight was resting on you while he sucked on your tits, switching between them. You laid there for quite a while and wondered how long he could do this. You braided your fingers through his hair before tugging it back roughly, and he unwillingly popped off your tit with a loud and whoreish whine.

"Hey!" He complained with eyebrows knitted together as his eyes looked between your eyes and spit-covered tits. He's so spoiled.

"I always knew you'd be a little brat." You said, repeating what he said to you earlier.

Neil drools on you helplessly, groaning as you pull on his hair more until you two are sitting up facing each other. You grin once more and lean in, giving him a sweet little kiss. His hands cupping your tits desperately.

"Carry me to the bedroom." You hummed dramatically, raising your arms in the air, and Neil shook his head and chuckled as he leaned down and wrapped you up in his arms.

"I'm so glad you're my best friend," Neil murmured into your warm shoulder as he padded you guys down to the bedroom he had been in countless times.

"Not just best friends, though," You remarked as he laid you down on the bed with your legs over his shoulders. He reached towards your bedside table.

"Condoms?" He hummed, searching through your drawers, but found nothing.

"Birth control... you should know this you idiot!" You giggled at Neil realizing what you just said.

"Can I...?"

"Yes!"

"Like... inside?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes!" You nodded your head, laughing wildly.

"Fuck you're gonna be the best girlfriend ever!" Neil grunted happily before leaning in and kissing you like you were his last meal.

Meanwhile, he slid your skirt down and unzipped his trousers. You caught a glimpse of his thick cock straining against his briefs and found yourself growing wetter.

"Let me make you mine, Y/N..." He whispered. "Let me finally make you mine."

"I've been yours," You caressed his face. You were both out of your underwear now. The tip of his prick nudging your clit as you looked up at him with so much love. "Please... Neil... please... I need you so bad."

Neil nodded silently, closing his eyes as he lined up his aching cock with your dripping cunt. The initial push in made your mind go blank and your spine arch even further into his touch, Neil moaned as he pushed himself into you fully.

"I can't believe this is happening..." Neil whispered. "This is so much better than I ever imagined it to be."

"You thought about me?" You grinned idiotically, high on the way he was stretching you out.

"Fuck," He groaned, hair falling over his pretty face. "Every fuckin' night."

"Me too."

His hands were placed firmly on your hips, and as he receded back until it was just the head of his cock in you, his fingers slid up to grope at your tits that his eyes had been practically glued on all night. Neil fucked you nice and slow, relishing in the way your pussy felt around him. Your hands were gripping the sheets, legs still thrown over his shoulders and mouth spewing incoherent words of pleasure.

"Neil... baby... oh my god," Your eyes so desperately wanted to shut but you wanted to enjoy how pretty he looked above you. "I love you."

Those words hung heavy in the air for a moment, Neil's hips never faltering as he leaned down and kissed you. "I love you, Y/N." Neil whispered against your hot mouth.

That was all you needed to hear. His cock slid in and out of you, both groaning and moaning as your bodies finally became one. Neil's mouth hung agape against yours, breathing in each other's air. Neil's face was flushed a bright red, pupils blown wide, and his hair messy from how you ran your fingers through it. Your noses brushed together as his pelvis rutted against your clit, dick still so deep inside you.

"I love you so much," Neil panted, thrusting into you desperately. "I always have..."

"Love you..." You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut and your arms slithering around his neck as the pleasure consumed you from the inside out. "So much... Neil..."

Neil pressed a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling your face as he ground into you. "Fuck, please let me cum inside you."

"I'm so close, Neil..." You whispered. "Just hold on a little longer."

Neil grunted. A pyramid of pleasure building within you, ready to crash down and crumble inside of you. Your orgasm grew like a million tiny vines curling around each individual nerve until you saw colors you had never seen before.

"Squeezing me so tight," Neil whined. "I need to cum... please..."

"Cum," You commanded and he did.

Coming undone together felt like it was truly sealing your fate. You had never felt so close to him; you knew you could and would spend the rest of your life with him. He mewled into the crook of your neck, cum spilling into you as you convulsed, orgasm swallowing you whole and ridding you of all your senses. All you felt was him and the impending pleasure devouring you. Neil's whimpers only further pushed you over the edge.

"Y/N," He moaned like a whore. "Fuck... Y/N..." He whined right into your ear as his cock continued to fill you with his warm cum.

Your brain couldn't conceive a proper thought. You couldn't will yourself to speak as he collapsed on top of you. You smile as you lay there together, skin on skin, hearts pounding in sync. Neil pulled out of you with a quiet hiss, picking you up and curling up with you under the sheets.

You looked at each other silently, both still calming down. Your thumb drew infinity signs onto his cheekbone, slowly blinking at the boy you had always wanted- no, needed.

"That was the best thing to ever happen to me," Neil whispered, sleepy eyes looking at you full of adoration. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me." Neil pecked you softly on the lips. "I can't believe it took me this long to tell you... I... I'm sorry." "Shh..." You hushed. "It's okay... we're together now... that's all that matters."

You lay in silence once more, hearts still pounding in your chests. You took in every detail of him, which you had memorized countless times before, but this time it was different. It felt much more intimate. Every crease, every freckle... every tiny minuscule detail of him was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

"Does this mean we're boyfriend-girlfriend now?" Neil chuckled, rolling over onto his back, pulling you into his side.

"Shut up, Neil," You giggled. "You're such a dork."

"You love it." He quipped.

"I do," You agreed. "I love you."

"I love you," Neil smiled sweetly, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you were quickly interrupted by the sound of Neil's phone ringing. "Fuck me," He grunted, reaching down to grab at his jeans where his phone was. "Hello?" He said with a sour face. "Hi, Jonathan, everything is okay... yes, she's here with me..." Neil looked down at you with a smirk. "Yes, Lucien can borrow my goggles... I don't care... can we talk about this later?" Neil hung up and tossed his phone aside before looking back at you with a sheepish smile.

"What was that about?"

"Well... erm... Jonathan just asked if everything went well... between us..." Neil blushed.

"He knows you're here?"

"He's the reason I came over... he gave me the courage to... y'know... tell you how I feel."

You rolled your eyes and laughed before kissing him deeply. You felt like everything was okay. Now that you had Neil in your arms, you could handle anything that life threw at you. Neil was already planning your wedding in his head as you shared the love between you in a kiss. You wouldn't want it to be anyone else

-

I NEED NEIL LEWIS.... LIKE RIGHT NOW!!! Ugh, I love him so much. Anyway, hope you enjoyed <3

[lovelybucky1]

Bad Guys Win

Kinktober Day 13- Knife Kink

part two of "nice guys finish last" but can be read as standalone fic

warnings: AFAB!reader, horror movies, referenced violence, knife play, dirty talk, under negotiated kink, dom/sub dynamics, 18+ minors DNI

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

Ever since that night Anakin got you high and confessed his desire for you, you've been spending a lot more time together. You're still just friends, but now your relationship has a lot more benefits than it did prior.

Tonight Anakin invited you over because he had the house to himself. It was far too casual to be a date, but he got pizza delivered and there was cold beer on the table, so at least he made an effort.

You had no delusions about why you were there. It's a hookup between friends. Good friends, sure. Ones who care about each other very deeply, but it was still just sex.

That's why you were confused when Anakin grabbed your arm and led you down the stairs to the basement. It's technically unfinished, but it was a large area rug, a couch, and a TV hooked up with your brother's PlayStation.

He told you it was movie night and rifled through the shelf of movie cases. He chose Friday the 13th because it was fitting for the day. You fondly rolled your eyes at his joke and joined him on the couch once he got the DVD in the player.

He pressed up against your side on the couch and pulled the classic yawn move and put his arm around you. It was a bit odd to cuddle with Anakin like this, but you know him well enough that the closeness wasn't uncomfortable. The closeness did, however, allow him to feel every twitch of your body.

You jump when Jason pops out of no where, jostling Anakin.

"You okay?" he asks, chuckling.

You scoff. "I'm fine."

"Are you scared? Don't worry, your big brother will protect you," he jokes.

You elbow him in the ribs. "Don't call yourself that, freak."

Anakin just laughs and turns his attention back to the movie.

When it gets to the final chase scene, you're squirming with anxiety. You know it's just a movie, but the suspense gets you to. Anakin looks down at you with a smirk on his lips.

"Would you fuck him?" Anakin asks.

Your head snaps to the side, looking at him with furrowed brows. "Jason?"

"Yeah," Anakin says.

"You mean the crazy killer with the knife?"

Anakin adjusts his position so he can see you better. "Yeah. I mean like, you don't have to think he's hot. But if it was me, would you fuck me?"

What a weird fucking question. You can't tell if he's genuinely curious or if he's fishing for some kind of compliment.

"I guess," you shrug.

"If I had the mask and the knife?"

"Yes, Anakin," you sigh, getting annoyed that he's talking over the climax of the movie.

"Would you like it if I chased you?" he asks, his voice suddenly taking on a different tone. "Would you be my final girl?"

You raise your eyebrow at him. "Is this a sex thing?" you ask.

"Yeah," he smirks. "Think about it. You'd play the little, innocent helpless victim and I'd be the big bad killer. Maybe you got wrapped up in a relationship with a guy who's a bad influence nothin' but trouble," he says as he leans closer to you. "He brings you right to me and I have to have you. I get him out of the way first, and after that, you're all mine."

You lean back as Anakin advance, but when the back of your head hits the couch, you realize you have no where else left to go. Your heart begins to race in his chest as his eyes look over you hungrily. You can't deny that you're getting a little excited despite not knowing what Anakin is up to.

Suddenly, Anakin shifts. He leans up a bit and reaches behind him, searching for something in his back pocket. He reveals a small silver pocket knife that glints in the light from the screen.

He flips the blade of the knife up and you can see the sharp silhouette in the dark. It's only about three inches long, nothing like Jason's, but this one is real.

"I've got you now," he smirks.

The arm around your shoulder turns from comforting to restraining. He's holding you firmly in place by your shoulder with his other hand being occupied by the knife.

"You're crazy," you breathe.

"You want me to stop?" Anakin asks, dropping the knife for a moment.

You consider, but you're open to trying new things and this is obviously something that gets Anakin going.

"No," you say. "Just don't kill me."

Anakin grins, his white teeth glowing in the dark. He raises the knife again and lets the tip of the blade catch on the fabric of your shirt.

"I'm not gonna kill you, you're too special. I'm gonna keep you for myself."

Anakin is now leaning over top of you, blocking your view of the TV. His hand holds your shoulder firmly and his knee is resting on the cushion between your legs. You're trapped, but you don't want to get away.

Anakin tips your chin up with the flat of the knife, making you look at him. He tilts his head condescendingly and looks at you with pity.

"You're lucky I'm the one who got you. Some of the other guys aren't so generous. They like to see pretty things like you bleed dry, but I prefer to keep 'em wet," he says.

You're unclear of the story that goes along with this little fantasy, but you suppose that's not necessary to play the role of the helpless victim.

"Why are you doing this to me?" you ask, using a higher pitched voice to play up the desperation.

Anakin seems elated at your participation in his game. "Because I saw you squirmin' during the movie. This shit turns you on, huh?"

You whine when he shakes you. "No it doesn't," you say. "I was scared."

Anakin hums, not believing you. "Maybe you're more of the Ghostface type then. Would you fuck him?"

Suddenly you feel too shy to maintain eye contact with Anakin. You don't know how he read you like that, but he's right. You've always had a thing for Ghostface. Not the killing, but the voice and that flirty tone he used.

"Yeah, you fucking would," Anakin grins. "So that's your type, huh? I can do that for you, baby."

Anakin has never called you baby before and it does something to you. The tenderness of the pet name combined with the sharp metal waving in your face makes for a confusing mixture of desire in your abdomen.

Before your mind can catch up with your body to realize what's happening, Anakin has you on your back on the floor. He's kneeling over you, straddling your torso. In this position, the side of his face is lit by the TV and he looks hotter than ever. The manic grin on his lips, the lust in his eyes, the line of his throat.

"Aren't you gonna try to run?" he asks. When you shake your head no, he laughs. "Some final girl you are. Just handing yourself over to the bad guy to do whatever he pleases with you."

Anakin tosses the knife on the couch, then grabs the waistband of your sweatpants and panties and pulls them down together. You lift your hips to help him get them off and once you're bare, he slots himself between your legs and hooks them over his shoulders.

"And bad guys like me love ruining pretty things like you," he smirks wickedly.

[cera-writes]

Hello! You’re friendly neighbourhood request stalker here, just having another little moment of self inserted love.

Gambit strikes me as someone who would be an absolute nerd. I see him as a secret Star Wars fan or Trekkie. Reader is a mutant who lives in the mansion - maybe a teacher rather than an X-Man? Halloween rolls around, big mansion party and of course reader is big into costumes and cosplay.

Everyone has to dress up and no-one tells anyone about their costume until the big reveal at the party.

She does the Leia. /That/ Princess Leia. And he just spends the whole night with an uncomfortable nerd boner, torn between talking excitedly about the movies and just being his usual flirty lusty self? Maybe even a flustered fanboy? NSFW or SFW, I’ll leave that to you.

I’m gonna go sit in the corner and squee to myself.

A/N: yes yes yes!! I was listening to this song while writing this and I wanna imagine it playing it in the background of the party... 🤣 Pairing: Remy "Gambit" LeBeau x F!Reader Tags: fluff, sweet sexy fluff, making out, sexual innuendos, teasing, flirting, reader gives Remy a constant boner

"Then show me, Scoundrel."

The X-Mansion buzzed with an energy that rivalled Danger Room training. Tonight wasn't about honing mutant abilities, it was about unleashing inner demons – the good kind, fueled by fruity cocktails and booming music. Professor Xavier had thrown a rare costume party, and the place was a kaleidoscope of capes, masks, and questionable fashion choices.

You, however, were channelling a very specific kind of fantasy. Standing by the punch bowl, you were the epitome of Rebel Princess badassery. You'd raided Storm's wardrobe for a flowing white drape, leaving enough strategically placed gaps to make even the stoic Ororo blush. The pièce de résistance, though, was a leather belt Professor X had unearthed from a forgotten box of "mutant memorabilia." It did wonders for accentuating your curves. You'd even fashioned your hair into a pair of space buns, completing the look.

You were scanning the room, feeling a thrill at the envious stares from Rogue and the appreciative nods from Beast, when a familiar drawl sliced through the music.

"Well, well, well. Looks like someone wandered straight outta Jabba's Palace."

Remy Lebeau, ever the charmer, stood before you, his trademark grin plastered across his face. He was a dead ringer for Indiana Jones, complete with a Traveller hat and a leather jacket that wouldn't look out of place on one of the members of his former Thief Guild.

"Just call me Princess," you countered, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Up close, his eyes sparkled with an amusement that sent a shiver down your spine. Remy was, in fact, all hot and bothered at the mere sight of you. He was fangirling so hard, flustered by the sight of you wearing that costume.

"Princess, huh? Think you can handle a scoundrel like me?" His voice was a low rumble, sending another delicious jolt through you.

You leaned in, close enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath on his ear. "Try me, Gambit."

The way his name rolled off your tongue, laced with a deliberate challenge, had a visible effect on him. A flicker of heat replaced the amusement in his eyes.

"Careful, cher," he murmured, his voice husky. "You might jus' get more than you bargained for."

The music shifted to a slow, seductive melody. Remy held out a hand, the invitation clear. A mischievous grin spread across your face as you bit your bottom lip. "Take the lead, scoundrel."

He took your hand, the touch sending a spark igniting between you. As you glided onto the makeshift dance floor, you couldn't help but brush your hand against his chest, the worn leather cool against your skin. He inhaled sharply, the movement pulling the fabric of his jacket taut across his impressive physique.

You danced with him, slow and close, the playful banter escalating with each stolen glance, each lingering touch. He twirled you, the white drape billowing around you like a cloud, and for a moment, you could almost believe you were dancing with Han Solo under a Tatooine sunset.

When the song ended, Remy leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. "Let's get outta here, Princess. I know a place with a much better view of the stars."

A shiver snaked down your spine at his suggestion, a delicious mix of excitement and apprehension. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the heat building between you. Remy's hand slipped around your waist, his touch sending a jolt through you that had nothing to do with his mutant power.

He led you away from the mansion, the party lights fading behind you like dying stars. The silence was thick with unspoken desire, broken only by the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet. He stopped suddenly, pulling you against a large oak tree, the moonlight filtering through the leaves casting an ethereal glow on his face.

His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now smoldering with a different kind of intensity. A single gloved finger grazed your cheek, sending shivers down your exposed skin. "You know, cher," he murmured, his voice a low caress, "this princess needs a little less…" he trailed off, his hand gliding down your arm, lingering on the exposed sliver of skin above your elbow. His eyes followed the traces of his fingers dancing along your skin, causing goosebumps to form as you bit back a whimper.

Your breath hitched as he slowly unfastened the clasp on the leather belt Professor X had unearthed. It felt symbolic, a shedding of inhibitions, a slow reveal that mirrored the growing tension between you. The white fabric parted further, revealing a hint of smooth skin and the enticing curve of your hip.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear. "And a scoundrel," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, "needs a little more…" his breath tickled your earlobe as he trailed a finger down the exposed skin of your back, sending a jolt straight to your core. He had you practically squirming.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Then show me, scoundrel," you breathed, your voice laced with lust and a newfound confidence. The playful banter had morphed into something far more primal, a delicious urgency hanging in the air.

Remy chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that vibrated through you. He captured your lips in a kiss, a slow burn that quickly escalated into a heated exploration. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as he explored the exposed skin of your arms and back. You responded in kind, your fingers tracing the contours of his chest, relishing the feeling of his worn leather jacket beneath your fingertips. He hitched one of your legs up, pinning you against the tree and him.

The kiss became a desperate battle for dominance, a delicious push and pull that left you breathless. He finally pulled away, his eyes half lidded, a red glow in the moonlight.

The crimson glow in his eyes sent a tremor straight down to your core, a primal counterpoint to the heat that had already taken root in your belly. His touch, a slow, deliberate graze against your exposed skin, was pure, unadulterated fire. The playful princess facade had melted away, replaced by a woman yearning for something raw, something untamed.

"Patience, cher," he murmured against your lips, his voice a husky rasp as he thumbed your bottom lip. The restraint in his tone was a delicious torture, a dam holding back a flood of desire. He trailed a finger down the exposed skin of your neck, sending goosebumps erupting in their wake.

"This night isn't over yet. We can take it slow under the disco ball, or..." He paused, his eyes flickering with a devilish glint, "we can rewrite this lil' fairytale of ours under the moonlight, with a little less fabric and a lot more…" He didn't need to finish the sentence.

The suggestive leer in his eyes spoke volumes.

A/N: Lemme know if ya'll want a part two to this! I really enjoyed writing this one! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[thatgirlstrawberry]

Forgotten Dates, Hurt Feelings

Feb. Request - 2

In which Spencer forgets a date night with his wife

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, hurt feelings, fluff, mentions of sex

Y/N smiled at herself in the bathroom mirror. She had just finished getting ready for her monthly date night that Spencer promised her. She had on a tight fitted black dress, her hair was curled to perfection and she stood a whole three inches taller with her sparkly black heels. Her lips were a dark red color that she only wore on nights out with him and only him. She knew he loved the way it would look smudged by the end of the night.

When she went out with her husband and their children, she didn't go all out on what she wore because it was usually to zoos or grocery stores.

She loved her children. She really did but God, did she need someone one on one time with her husband. It was always 'mom' this and 'mom' that. They never got the chance to even complain to their father because he was always at work. And when he did come home, he never had time for her because he was spending time with his kids. But the time they were in bed, Y/N was too tired to do anything, much less do him.

The doorbell rang and she pulled down her dress a little and hurried out of her room. Her two kids were on the couch watching TV.

"Ashley's here, guys!" She told them excitedly as her heels clicked down the hallway.

She got to the door and opened it quickly. A red-haired girl in a white sweater and baggy jeans stood with a big smile on her face. "Hey, auntie Y/N!"

"Hey, sweetheart. Thank you so much for coming and watching the kids tonight." Y/N smiled, stepping out of her way and letting her in. "Spencer should be home any minute now."

"No problem! I love hanging out with my cousins."

Y/N smiled at this and walked into the living room. Her youngest was now hanging upside down on the couch with her feet in the air.

“Bo, Diane! You’re cousin Ashley is here!” She exclaimed, grabbing their attention.

Both of their eyes widened and they scrambled off of the couch, attacking Ashley’s legs.

Y/N smiled at them. “Thank you so much again for this, Ash. I really need a night out.”

“No problem! Also you look so good!”

Y/N shook her head with a smile. “Aw, thank you!” She looked down at her children. “Bed by 9? And if you can’t get them down, don’t worry about it, we’ll handle it when we get home.”

Ashley nodded.

“Okay, I’ve got to go. Spencer is meeting me at the restaurant at 7.” She smiled, walking towards the coat closet to get her jacket.

“See you after your date!” Ashley called.

Y/N excitedly slipped her coat on over her dress and left the house, grabbing her keys on the way out.

.•.•.•.•.•.

Y/N pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, leaving the radio on so she could finish out her jam session she and Harry Styles were having.

When the song ended she smiled and looked at the clock on the screen.

7:01

She bit the inside of her cheek and looked around the parking lot for a minute before getting out and going inside.

The restaurant was busy. It was a Friday night and it was February so, she understood.

The hostess smiled at her as she walked up to the podium. “Hi there!” She beamed. “What can I do for you?”

Y/N grinned back. “Hello! My husband made a reservation under the name Reid.” She said.

“Gotcha!” The hostess said, looking down to type on her computer. Her furrowed brows made Y/N fidget with her wedding ring. “Uh… I’m not seeing a reservation under Reid. Could it be under a different one?”

Y/N but her lip. “Spencer?” She shrugged.

The woman hummed and shook her head. “Mm, I’m sorry. I’m not seeing that.”

Weird. I could have sworn I told Spencer to book two weeks ago.

“But, it’s your lucky day! I just had a table for two open up in the back area. If you want it, it’s yours.”

Y/N sighed in relief and placed a hand to her chest. “Oh my goodness, that would be great. Thank you so much!”

The hostess waved her hand and began to walk back to the table.

It was in a cute little secluded area, perfect for date night. Vines filled with flowers hung around the walls and ceiling and there were pretty fairy lights all around.

“I’m assuming you’d like to wait for your husband to start ordering?” She asked.

Y/N nodded. “Yes, thank you so much.”

The hostess nodded and walked away.

Y/N pulled out her phone and shot Spencer a quick text.

Y/N: Hey honey, are you almost here?

She slipped her phone back in her coat pocket and let her eyes explore the place a little more and did a little people watching.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Spencer pulled into his driveway, turning off the car and letting out a heavy sigh. His head fell back against the head rest.

He had a tough week. His case he worked on went terribly. All he wanted to do was spend some restful time with his family.

And if the kids were asleep, which they should have been it was almost 9, he would just curl up on the couch with a glass of wine and his beautiful wife.

He got out of the car and walked inside his home, taking his coat off and tossing his keys in the bowl, not noticing that Y/N’s weren’t there.

He walked through the hallway and into the living room where his kids sat staring at the TV, too engrossed to even notice that he was there.

He heard dishes clanking in the kitchen and the sound of running water.

So he slipped past the couch and into he kitchen where he thought he’d find his wife but instead he found his 17 year old niece in law with her back turned to him, washing dishes.

She spun around when she felt his eyes on her.

“Uncle Spencer?” She asked loudly. “What are you doing here?”

He furrowed his brows. “I live here? W-what are you doing here, Ashley?” He asked, glancing around.

“I’m watching the kids… for you and aunt Y/N…” She spoke slowly, he confusion growing. “Where is she?”

“Y/N- shit!” He gasped and checked his watch.

9:05

“Shit, shit, shit!” He cursed, a wave of realization washing over him. He was soon spinning around and rushing to the front door.

When he got the foyer, he froze. Y/N was there closing the door with a McDonald’s bag in hand. She had a sad look on her face as she tossed her keys into the bowl.

She looked up at him and gave a weak smile, walking past him into the kitchen. “Y/N, baby?” He called following her.

She set the food down on the counter when she reached the kitchen. “Mommy, daddy!” Diane screeched when she saw her parents.

She got up from the floor and quickly rushed to them. She scooped Diane up into her arms and patted Bo on the head as he hugged her legs.

“Did you guys have fun with Ashley?” She asked, widening her eyes and smiling at them.

Spencer could tell it was a fake smile.

Both kids nodded and went on and on about their time with Ashley. “I’m glad you guys had fun! But it’s time for bed, kiddos.” She kissed each of their heads and hugged them tight. She looked up at her husband. “Spence can you put them to bed? I’m starved.” She shook her head.

Spencer nodded. “O-okay.” He bent down to take Bo in one arm and took Diane from Y/N with the other and left the room, taking them upstairs.

“How were they?” She asked the girl, sitting on the bar stool and opening the McDonald’s bag.

Ten minutes later, Spencer came back down from getting the kids to bed and he sighed, glancing at Ashley and then at his wife.

“Thank you for tonight, Ash. I left some money on the key table for you.” Y/N smiled. “Bye hon.”

Ashley nodded and waved at them before leaving.

A moment of silence was over the husband and wife until Spencer spoke. “Y/N, I am so so sorry.” He said, sitting next to her.

Y/N looked over at him. “I know.” She gave him a weak smile. “I just— how did you forget? I called you eight times.”

Spencer furrowed his brows and felt his pockets and took out his phone. “Shit, it’s on silent.” He shook his head.

Y/N nodded. “And we’ve also been talking about this since… last month. You have an eidetic memory, Spencer.”

He leaned forward and placed his hands on her halfway covered thighs. “I know, baby. I— I’ve had a tough week. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you.” He tilted his head to the side.

“That was so embarrassing.” She shook her head. “I sat in a restaurant for an hour all dressed up. People gave me sad looks and it’s like I was in high School again getting stood up by a boy.” She looked down and placed her hands on his.

“I’m sorry you had a bad week.” She sighed. Spencer shook his head. “I shouldn’t be this upset.”

“No, honey, I’m sorry.” He said. “You’re here all day, everyday and I completely put you on the back burner and I know how much time away means to you.” He whispered. “You deserve to be mad at me.”

Y/N but her lip and stood up, Spencer did the same. “I could never stay mad.” She smiled. “Besides, we still have Valentine’s Day,” She shrugged. “And Ash will be free, so…” She slid her hands up his chest.

He looked down at her. “What if she has plans?”

Y/N smiled. “I love the girl but she’s hopeless.” She shook her head with a small chuckle.

Spencer laughed. “That’s so mean.” He told her, leaning down to peck her lips three times before giving her a long kiss.

She hummed and pulled away. “You don’t get wife-style kisses.” She shook her head. “You stood me up.”

Spencer groaned. “Have I told you how beautiful and sexy you look tonight?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Flattery won’t work either, Reid.”

She pulled away and spun around heading for the stairs, her heels clicking quietly. “Baby, please!” He gasped, feigning offense. “I’ll do the thing you like!” He called out. He was practically chasing her up the stairs.

“No sir.” Y/N hummed, narrowly escaping his grabby hands.

“Oh, don’t call me sir if you’re not gonna let me fu- ow!“

Y/N burst into a quiet fit of laughter as she spun and realized that her husband was so desperate that he fell up the stairs trying to get to her.

————————

Heyyyyyyy

This was requested! I hope it’s just how you wanted it!

Also I would love to know how y’all would react in this situation bc I would be HEATED but the requester wanted her to be non-petty 😭

Feel free to request a fic!

[fbfh]

rodrick x hyperfeminine hcs pt 3: changes: the big prom: the sex romp: the season finale

wc: 2.2k

genre: angst and fluff, teenage dream

pairing: rodrick x hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: roddy has low self esteem, madison and heather are not good friends prom trope, happy ending

summary: you and rodrick are both planning on ditching prom because if you can't go with each other, you don't want to go at all. fate has other plans, and rodrick thinks maybe prom isn't that overrated after all.

song recs: teenage dirtbag - wheatus, wasting love - iron maiden

a/n: LAST PART IN THE RODDY X HYPERFEM ARC!!! send me roddy asks bc this boy deserves more love. also if you get the clone high reference in the title I love you

(optionally) the iconic dress

tags @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @marveldemigod17 @celootaku1 @stay-to-reblog @whos-mixxie @mikulovingtrash @inthemindofaweirdo @b0nes-phobic @myymmeloo @wanderlustingcastaway @debbi3-debaser @lubunnii @imaybewrongbutidoubtit @cloverhasnobrain @bessonasa @strangelysamantha @1-800-starkindustrie @brookeskitty @1ummcalhoody6 @always1s4youbitch-blog @citri-koi @vincentluvr444 @brunnetteiwik @melllinaa @reeces-pieses @mentamaree @jasontodd-artemisgrace4life @jinniy

You’ve spent the last few weeks throwing yourself into the project of planning Heather and Madison’s prom outfits 

And hair

And makeup

And accessories

But that all comes with the territory of getting ready for prom

Once you decided to put them in soft pastels and flowy floaty ball gown dresses, word got out pretty quickly that that was the look for prom season in plainview

Everyone was getting the poofiest, softest dresses they could get their hands on

Soon selkie dresses and all their knock offs were sold out everywhere

Even white and pastel suits and tuxedos were selling like hotcakes 

Heather and Madison keep asking about your dress, but you don’t have the heart to tell them you don’t have one yet

Because you don’t plan on going

If you can’t go with Rodrick you don’t want to go at all

You don’t want Heather and Madison to be disappointed, so you haven’t told them that your real plans for prom night are to stay at home in your cozy pink pajamas and watch romantic comedies while you throw chocolates at the screen like a heartbroken Elle Woods

Rodrick has similar plans to blow off prom night

With less romcoms and pedicures, but he still has no intention of going

He managed to score Iron Maiden tickets for the friday after prom for him and the guys

Even though Ward is probably going to flake on them so he can spend the weekend with his girlfriend

Her parents are out of town then, so none of them can blame him

Rodrick’s been going out of his way to throw out every flier and leaflet about prom that gets sent to their house before his mom can see it

And it’s been going fine 

Until Greg decides to be a little asshole and get revenge for a harmless prank Rodrick pulled on him

Sure, Greg’s skin was stained blue for the rest of the week

But still

That doesn’t warrant showing their mom all the prom flyers and convincing her that Rodrick can’t possibly miss out on this developmental milestone 

Rodrick was desperate not to go

And he almost got away with it

But before he knows it, it’s prom night and his mom barges into his room with the flier insisting he goes

Rodrick tries everything he can think of to change her mind

“Mom, I don’t have anything to wear.”

She digs through his closet and holds up the only clean shirt and tie in his closet, giving him a look in response

“I don’t have a ride.”

“You can take your van.”

“I don’t have a date!”

That one gets him a 10 minute lecture about building character and planning ahead

“And I’m sure if you ask nicely there will be some girl who will dance with you. To real music, not that… screaming and thrashing and noise you’re always playing.” Susan says, pausing the spotify playlist he’d been blasting

Rodrick rolls his eyes at how out of touch she is

Everyone at school thinks he’s some loser punk

And now he’s going to show up late to prom with no date??

He’s glad prom is only for seniors, because he would never be able to live this down otherwise

Maybe it won’t be too bad

He can just sit in the parking lot and blast Green Day until it’s time to leave

“And don’t you think you can just go somewhere else, or hide in your van. You know my friend Linda?”

Susan doesn’t wait for Rodrick to answer

“Well, she’s a chaperone, and she’ll tell me if you’re not there. Okay? This is for your own good, Rodrick.” 

Fuck

Well, that idea’s out

“Fine, I’ll go…” Rodrick agrees, reluctantly giving in

Susan is delighted

She starts to leave so he can get changed, but he stops her before she can

“Can I borrow your eyeliner?”

A little while later, he’s sitting in his van in the school parking lot

He was already wearing black converse and ripped black jeans, so he just had to throw on the black button up and red tie his mom found

His hair was perfectly messed up from the nap he was startled awake from when his mom barged in

He shoves his headphones in his pocket, and after putting it off for as long as he can, he gets out and closes the door

Maybe it won’t be so bad

Maybe there will be some live music that’s actually decent

Ward and his girlfriend are already there, so maybe they’ll take pity on him and let him third wheel for a while so he doesn’t feel like such a total loser

He opens the doors to the gym, and is met with a hellscape of fluffy pastels and cutesy radio pop

Even the guys are in white and soft shades of blue and green and yellow

He feels like he’s going to throw up

He's in hell

This is what hell looks like

Among the hellscape of fluffy pastel tulle, Heather and Madison text you in a fit, wondering where the hell you are

You’re missing prom for god’s sake

You text them back the same thing you’ve been telling them all night

You’re running late, you’re having wardrobe malfunctions, but have fun and you’ll be there soon

When their dates leave to get them drinks, Madison sees someone sulking at a table

It’s Rodrick Heffley

She subtly takes a picture of him from across the room and texts Madison

🚨HEFFLEY ALERT🚨

He looks fucking pathetic lmao

Like how sad can u get lskjsldkfjd

Heather responds, laughing at what a loser he is

Only Madison didn’t just text Heather

She texted the group chat with Heather, her, and you

Your phone starts blowing up with more texts from Heather and Madison

You finally check their texts, assuming it’ll be more of the same

Your heart drops when you see a picture of Rodrick sitting alone at a table

“He couldn’t even get a date?? How pathetic 💀”

Your stomach sinks as you feel your heart break for Rodrick

He doesn’t deserve this

And neither do you

Rodrick should get to enjoy his prom

And you should get to have at least one chance with him

You have to see him

You have to crash prom and tell him you’ve been crazy about him since the moment you saw him

You have to ask him to dance with you

You have to try

Realizing how much you have to do in such a short amount of time, you throw yourself out of bed

You dig through your closet until you find your sweet 16 dress

It’s not at all on brand with the unofficial theme for prom, but it will have to do

You grab shoes and some matching jewelry and get dressed in a hurry

After throwing on the slinky, glittering, hot pink evening gown, you put on a pair of matching marabou heels

Your earrings and choker accent your glittering dress, and the high slit in the floor length skirt shows off your shoes perfectly

You finish pulling yourself together and rush out the door to get to prom as fast as possible

You feel like Cinderella rushing to the ball, hoping to meet prince charming

And you really feel like you have a shot at pulling this off. 

Rodrick feels like absolute shit

He didn’t think prom could feel this awful, but here he is

Alone at a table like a total loser while everyone else is dancing and having a good time

He looked around for Ward

And found him and his girlfriend hooking up under the bleachers

And in the bathroom

And in an empty classroom

So third wheeling is officially not an option anymore

He feels like everyone is laughing at him

Some of them literally are

And in a room full of poofy pastel dresses and suits, he sticks out like a sore thumb

His outfit does kind of look like Gerard Way in the music video for Helena

But that’s obviously lost on all his mainstream pop obsessed classmates

He’s in a crowded room full of everyone in his grade

And he’s never felt more alone

This is torture

He’s about to get up and leave when the doors open on the other side of the gym

Heads turn as a gasp fills the room, followed by low murmuring

The crowd parts like Moses parting the sea, and Rodrick looks over curiously

You emerge from the graveyard of pastel tulle in a gorgeous, slinky, hot pink dress that looks like Elle Woods and Marilyn Monroe combined

And you’re looking right at him

His heart starts pounding

You walk toward him as a hush falls over the room

This can’t be real

There’s no way this is real

“Hi, Rodrick.” you say softly

He’s confused as fuck and feels like he could cry 

You actually know who he is??

You know his name???

“...Hi,” he chokes out, unsure of where the hell this is going

You look up at him with your pretty sparkly eyes and he feels like dreaming

“I…” you start, and he realizes you’re looking at him the way he looks at you, the way he’s been looking at you since he first saw you

“I never got to thank you for playing at my party.” You say softly

Thank him??

You actually liked it??

Everyone is staring at you with their jaws on the floor, but neither of you notice or care right now

He manages to choke out a response that probably sounds really stupid, but you just giggle sweetly

Are you blushing??

“Would-” you start, finally deciding to swallow your nerves and bite the bullet 

You have to go for it

You’ve never liked someone as much as you like Rodrick and if you don’t try now you’ll regret it for the rest of your life

Rodrick’s heart is hammering in his chest

You look so pretty he could die

“Do you want to dance?”

The words are out before your nerves can take over

He looks at you in disbelief 

“Yeah,” he breaths, hoping that if this is a dream that it’s one he won’t wake up from for a while

You step closer to him, but you both freeze as the next song starts playing

It’s another oversaturated top 50 pop song

You grimace in unison 

Rodrick notices your mutual distaste for the overplayed song

If you really liked loded diper…

“Uh, here,” he pulls out his headphones and offers you one

“Thanks,” you say, trying to suppress the butterflies erupting inside you

It feels intimate, sharing headphones and listening to his playlists

You fight a giddy smile and pop in the headphone as he hits shuffle

A flash of fear that you’ll judge him for his music taste and this whole beautiful dream will be ruined burns through him

Your pause as the music begins to play

Rodrick’s fear vanishes as fast as it came when you look up at him with enthusiastic sincerity

“I love Iron Maiden!”

“Really?” he asks

He thought you couldn’t surprise him anymore than you have tonight, but this just keeps getting better and better

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling brightly as you place his hands on your waist

You sway softly to the beat of the song

You rest your head on Rodrick’s chest, a banger of a song playing in one ear, and Rodrick’s thudding heartbeat in the other

Neither of you are aware of the stares, of Heather freaking out behind you, of the whispers and the gossip or one of the teachers cashing in on winning a bet that Rodrick would actually dance with someone by the end of the night

Even if you did, you wouldn’t care

Rodrick holds you tight, never wanting this night to end

His heart starts pounding harder as he looks down at you, and you pull away from him enough to look up at him

He swallows, hoping this goes well

“Me and the guys are going to see Iron Maiden next friday and I have an extra ticket, would you want to-”

You’re already nodding

“Yes!” you beam

Going to an amazing concert with the hottest guy you’ve ever seen is literally what you’ve been dreaming of for years

Rodrick lets out a chuckle, overjoyed that this worked, that he’s dancing with you and you said yes

He makes a mental note to thank his mom for forcing him to come here

But he forgets it as soon as you stretch up, pulling his face down to yours

You press a warm kiss to his lips, one full of anticipation, one you’ve both been dreaming about

He pulls you closer, melting into your touch

He thinks maybe high school isn’t as bad as he thought

[lila-lou]

✨FaceTime✨

Summary: Jensen needs to get himself off, so he calls you.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Language, smut (kinda), fluff

Word Count: 1967

A/N: No hate towards anybody. It's just fiction.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

“Hey babe… Kept me waiting quite a while”, Jensen’s voice came from the other end of the line.

You didn't even have to see his face to know he wasn't just calling. He was fucking horny, you could hear it in his voice.

You, on the other hand, didn't even have the strength to sit up anymore. It was a Friday night and instead of going out with friends, partying and socializing, you had such a tiring and shitty day at work that you left the last tiny bit of your motivation at the gym. After a hot bath, two missed calls and 7 messages as well as a picture of him lying in bed annoyed, you finally called your, well, kinda boyfriend back.

Unfortunately, since you both lived in different states, it wasn't easy to keep things in sync, although that wasn't even the biggest problem. In fact, Jensen was still married, had a family and a job that didn't exactly offer planning security.

Jensen and his wife have been having some pretty bad marital problems for several years, but to date he hasn't been able to bring himself to file for divorce. The day he found out that his wife had cheated on him, he got so drunk, that he could no longer decide between good and bad. That's when he met you. One thing led to another and the two of you ended up in your hotel room in the middle of Austin, where you had just completed a week of training for your job.

When you both woke up the next morning and started to sober up, you were sure that it was just a simple one-night stand. But fate probably had something else in mind. Within 48 hours, you met four times. In the supermarket, in the park and at the gas station.

A few weeks of texts, calls, and FaceTimes later, Jensen visited you in Montana. He stayed for a few days and told you about his family situation, his career and everything related to it. Despite your initial remorse about having something with a married man, you just couldn't stay away from him. You attracted each other like two magnets.

So 12 months later you were lying in your bed more than tired, which your eyes clearly showed.

“Sorry… crap day at work… I fell asleep in the bathtub”, you yawned, rubbing your eyes vigorously with your free hand before looking back at your phone, at Jensen. "How you doin?", you snuggled into your pillow.

“Ugh, it’s time for you to finally move your nice little ass to Austin. You would never have to work again. That’s all I can offer”, he grumbled slightly, causing you to roll your eyes.

“That's more than generous of you, but as your affair, living in an apartment on the outskirts of a city I barely know and have no friends in? That's somehow not so great. And… you know, that I want to make my own money”.

The two of you discussed things for a while, but after a about 20 minutes, the topic of moving, jobs and affairs faded more and more into the background.

“Where is Danneel?”, you murmured, realizing that he was at home.

"Out with a friend", he murmured before stretching and getting more comfortable. “But-” he started, but was quickly interrupted by you.

“But why you called…”, you finished his sentence and grinned knowingly.

“Why don’t you take off your hoodie?”. His big ass smirk beamed across your phone screen.

“Mhmmm… I don’t know", you started to tease him as you could hear him undoing his belt and zipper before pulling down his jeans.

It wasn't the first time that you helped him jerk off. It was almost a ritual now. When you both realized your feelings for each other, Jensen wanted you to stop seeing other men and at the same time promised you not to have sex with his wife anymore. But since Jensen found it really difficult to have so little sex, you had to resort to this alternative.

“Come on, sweetheart. I need this… badly”, he grunted briefly as he wrapped his hand around his cock and began moving it up and down. “Show me your nice tits”.

“Wanna see them?".

You could see the impatience in his eyes and you surrendered. Even though absolutely nothing could top what Jensen did to you every time you saw each other, you had to admit that watching him, getting himself off, was absolutely hot. Especially since his eyes were on you. Just the sight of you made him come.

You routinely leaned your phone against the bedside lamp so that you were completely in view before kneeling in front of it, low enough so that your ass touched the mattress again, before slowly pulling your hoodie over your head. You heard Jensen growl again when he saw your perfect breasts.

"Fuck… I wish I could touch those”, he muttered, unconsciously licking his lips.

"You do ? How about a little proof of your need?”, you whispered seductively, playing with the waistband of your panties. Jensen wrapped one hand tightly around his already rock hard cock and gave it a hard squeeze before starting to pump up and down again. He knew that you wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see you, which is why he winked at you and switched the camera mode so that you had the perfect view of his hard length. Even though it was a shame not being able to see his pretty face anymore, the sight of him, squeezing his cock, made your pussy clench aroung nothing.

“Look what you’re doin to me”, Jensen moaned deeply, tightening his grip a little. “I’m so hard just looking at your fucking tits".

“Well, that´s nothing new”, you grinned as your hands slid to your breasts, kneading them gently.

"Imagine what I would do to you if you were here right now”, he grumbled, watching your actions through the screen. You grinned knowingly, lying down on your back so that your phone's camera films you from the side, before you painfully slowly rid yourself of your last piece of clothing by lifting your hips slightly and elegantly pushing the material off your legs.

“Don’t you wanna touch yourself for me?”, he whispered, his voice heated. “Show me your nice, tight pussy Sweetheart". His voice was dripping with excitement and you knew he wouldn’t last long. Especially since it felt like it had been ages since the last time. "Tell me what you would do to me if I was in your bed right now”, you grin sideways into the camera before bending one knee and sliding a hand up your thigh.

“Fuck, (y/n)", he groaned with the effort. "I would spread your thighs", he started. "Before getting down on that sweet pussy of yours… As always, you wouldn't even last two minutes before you had a first class orgasm and squirted all over my tongue". You turned, so that your pussy was perfect in the picture, but your legs remained closed for now. Nevertheless, Jensen could see part of your wet, shiny folds, which made his cock twitch immediately.

“The way you're lying right now, I'd rub my cock between those juicy, beautiful lips until you're even wetter than you already are… Just before you´d came a second time, I would sink my cock so deep inside you that you would forget to breathe”, he grunted, speeding up his hand movement as you began to rub two fingers over your glistening pussy.

“Fuck, push your finger inside”, he groaned, almost annoyed by your teasing. “Imagine it’s my cock. I want to hear your sweet moans”.

With that, you let your thighs fall apart, giving Jensen a perfect view of your clean-shaven pussy, drenched in your juices, before sliding two fingers inside you. The throaty moan, which was a little too loud, almost made Jensen choke on his own spit. He missed you even more than he ever expected. With his Airpods in his ears, he could hear every little whimper, every breath, and most importantly, every movement of your fingers on your swollen and wet clit.

“Jay… fuck, I miss you”, you let your head fall back with another moan as you continued to play with your clit, two fingers still inside you.

For a brief moment his feelings almost overshadowed his excitement, but when you kept moaning, he had to concentrate on his violently swollen and twitching cock again. “I would fuck you so hard you wouldn't be able to do anything but trying to catch your breath.. You couldn't sit for days because I would tear your tight little pussy apart. I would remind you what it's like, to get fucked by a real man".

By now it was hard to tell which of you was panting harder, who was closer and who just wanted to simply feel the other for real again.

“After I fucked you this good and you would be trembling beneath me, I would shove my cock down your dry and tired throat until you could finally taste me. And like a good girl you´d swallow all", he grunted, running his thumb slowly over the wet and swollen head of his cock.

“Jensen… shit”, you came, soaking your fingers and your entire palm. Your pleasured, exhausted moans echoed in Jensen's ears as he closed his eyes for a moment, imagining exactly what he had just said.

“Fuck (y/n)”, he gasped, spilling onto his stomach while struggling to breathe.

You both just laid there for a while. The tension and stress of the last few weeks washed away as you stared at the ceiling.

After a few minutes, Jensen broke the comfortable silence. “Gimme… like… five, Sweetheart”, he mumbled into his phone before getting up and heading to the bathroom to clean himself up. You also used the time to freshen up before snuggling back into your bed. You lay on your side, holding your phone tightly in your hand, waiting to see your boyfriend's pretty face again.

“Hey”, Jensen mumbled as he sat on the porch a short time later with his phone in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth. “Hey, yourself”, you smiled softly.

For a while the two of you just looked at each other. Lost in each other's sparkling eyes.

“I miss you, Jay… a lot”, the corners of your mouth twitched down briefly. Jensen sighed and took a long drag from his cigarette.

"I know sweetheart. I miss you too”. His hand, with the cigarette between his fingers, rubbed his forehead firmly. "I promise you, I'll sort things out". His look showed that he was serious. Jensen knew it was time to clean up, no matter how dirty it would get.

“I love you”, he murmured, flicking his cigarette away and watching you snuggle further into your pillows. “I love you more”, you yawned exhaustedly. “Sleep tight, (y/n)”, he smiled slightly.

Jensen stayed on the phone until you fell asleep before hanging up and returning to the here and now.

Each of your calls and each of your meetings was a little escape into another world. To a better world. You made each hotel room a place where Jensen felt safe. Felt like home. The thing he hasn't been able to do for ages. You were his home. And he didn't just want to visit anymore. He wanted to be home forever.

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A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰