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cryptidcasanova · 4 months

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Lover Boy

Mob!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: It's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky.

Warnings: Angst, light Smut, Language, Possessive Bucky.

3.5k

The poll results are in, and I couldn't help but think this might be a good way to remedy both sides.

You were mortified.

One hand fisted against quivering lips, and the other gripped at your clutch. As if anything else could go wrong tonight. Shaky steps guided you down the carpeted stairs.

There was another gala, another meeting of the power players in town. And it was another night wasted at the hands of James Barnes.

You hated how much you cared for him. You still cared for him even after all the stunts he pulled to pull you away from the Maximoff heir. Always had.

Ever since you were kids, you remembered having that love-sick look in your eyes. You grew up with inner-circle families and were friends with Rebecca, Sarah, and their brothers. And Bucky? Well, shit, he was always there with his dark hair and curious eyes. It was hard not to fall for him.

Even as you grew up, numbing yourself to the reality of the business and the choices that came with it, you couldn't ignore him forever. You knew that Bucky was raised to be powerful, honorable, and frightening. You knew the stories – of all the beautiful women who couldn't tie him down longer than a night or two. You knew how he flaunted some new girl at every event. It was hard not to overhear them whispering among the men.

'What about her?' and the laugh on his hips saying, 'She's just a family friend. Don't worry about her; I'd never be with her like that.'

You knew he would break your heart, and still. You loved him.

Again, mortified.

He was your first kiss on some lonely night when you couldn't help but ask him. But that had been ages ago. He was grown now, the head of the family and the king of his empire.

But there was something different about tonight, something predestined that started long before you stepped outside your door. It started out as Sam's idea weeks before, in the same bar where you ended up every weekend.

He wanted to try and get you to mingle among the local 'rabble-rousers' as if he pretended not to be one of them. Your laugh at his suggestion pulled Steve and Bucky's attention from across the bar.

"You want me to do what, exactly?" You teased. "Throw myself in the way of wealthy investors and scout out the competition? That's much more up Nat's alley; there's a reason why they call her the Black Widow, you know –"

"No, nothing like that," he shook his head, that charming grin on his lips. Once Sam got an idea, it took a lot of work to dissuade him. "Look, there's more to this life than watching shipments and making small talk with the hens in town." He paused, knowing all the time you spent logging backorders and saving face with the mercs' wives. "I want you to be happy. We all do."

You leaned against the bar, pressing your palms against the hardwood.

"So you think it's time for me to settle down?" You challenged with a smirk. "Get married to some silver-spoon jerk upstate?" Sam's smile turned close-lipped as he noticed the other's approach.

"We could help you find a good one." At least he sounded hopeful.

"In this town?" Steve overheard, tapping his beer on the hardtop. "You're gonna need all the help you can get."

Your sneaking suspicion grew as they hounded like vultures. You looked from Sam to Steve with weary eyes. The only one with less enthusiasm was Bucky. Bucky, who usually was primmed with pressed shirts, was tired. His hair fell into his face, his shirt wrinkled, and his tie long discarded at one of the tables.

"You want to help me find a man?"

Bucky looked to his friends with a hooded expression, letting his hand reach out before him. With the click of his tongue, he softly smirked.

"We'll help you find a man. Have we got a deal, doll?"

It was a business handshake, one full of promise. And as soon as you grasped Bucky's hand, one you'd come to regret.

You didn't expect their advice to work so well…or so quickly.

At the gala, Bucky strolled over with that sly walk and pressed navy suit, conveniently carrying your favorite drink in hand after Pietro ordered you both dirty martinis. You never cared for the drink, but you weren't about to tell him that. But trouble started when Bucky slid between you with that close-lipped smirk.

"They must have made a mistake at the bar," He explained with a shrug. "I remember you liked these. Here, doll." Bucky said, swapping out the drink in your hand before sliding away. No one could fault you for your eyes lingering on him as he walked back to Sam and Steve.

Later in the night, when you were dancing along and finally falling into a rhythm with Pietro, Bucky interrupted again. It was the turn of the tides, the slow pace of the music building, until it felt like one of the underground clubs.

All the weeks spent flirting and learning more about the Maximoff family were crumbling before you. You were a fool to think it would last.

The music built to the familiar strum of old songs you used to listen to, and before you knew it, Sam, Natasha, and half the crew surrounded you on the dancefloor, pulling you away from your date. And it was all orchestrated by Bucky, leading them like a pack of wolves. You knew that look, the suave pull of his hand through slicked-back hair. And then, before you knew it, you were dragged away from the dancefloor.

"Hey," Pietro called over the music, pulling you to the side. "I like you. I do, but this isn't working."

"Wait –" You tried, reaching for his arm. But he was quick to deflect, and embarrassment warmed your cheeks.

"Whatever you're looking for," his eyes moved from Bucky and dropped when you noticed. He looked down with a sad smile. "Whoever you're looking for, I hope you find it."

It felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

"Please don't go."

But it was too late. Your plea was lost as he pushed himself away. Everyone saw it. All your friends' efforts and your attempts to find the one were wasted. Your feet carried you away too fast to notice the somber look Steve gave Bucky.

"You're running out of time, punk."

The city lights passed in a blur as a taxi drove you farther from the gala. The searing ache in your chest left you confused.

For years, you dreamed of Bucky Barnes, hope a dangerous feeling companion of yours. But you knew how he felt. You were nothing more than a friend; he had made that abundantly clear. But you couldn't cut the tether, even while someone else caught your interest. Pietro Maximoff was handsome and kind and loved his sister more than the world. But with Bucky's interruptions, it was no wonder why he didn't want to get involved.

But it still hurt.

A sob was swallowed back, but you couldn't stop the tears from rising. You were pitiful. It was the last time you'd ever ask the guys for help.

But the thought was gone with the sudden screeching of brakes. It made you hold on to the headrest in front of you. Trying to peer around at the commotion, you didn't expect to be cut off by two black SUVs. A moment later, a ringed hand banged on the taxi's hood.

"Get out of the car."

You knew that voice. And as you looked through the windshield, you could see Bucky Barnes peering back.

He was as poised as he was at the party, and the sharp look had you bracing the seat. The bitter spark of rejection caught the light, burning into brutal frustration. You didn't want to talk to him. You didn't want to see him. Not now.

"No."

He tilted his head to the side at the challenge.

"Get out of the fucking car." Bucky gritted. "I need to talk to you."

His voice was teetering dangerously into territory you had only heard about. It was his back rooms, no nonsense voice that snapped you back into the moment. Like hell it would work on you. So it was to be a standoff, one that that you weren't ready to back down from.

Once Bucky realized your position, he took a new approach. You could hear his intentional steps against the pavement as he reached the driver. He didn't say anything but dug into his pants pocket, his fingers flicking through his wallet smoothly.

"Unlock the car," Bucky ordered, pressing cash bills against the window.

The immediate click of the locks didn't help your bellyache, nor did the split second of peace you had before Bucky forced the door open and pulled you out of the cab.

"Are you crazy?" You barked, forcing him to release you as the cab sped off in the other direction.

But you were left in the middle of the road in Barnes territory, the sweep of their dark SUVs cutting off any chance to get out of this conversation.

"What's gotten into you?"

"I didn't want you to leave the party." He explained, his words softer now. "Not like that."

You couldn't believe him. You followed their advice to try and bag a good guy, but to what end?

"What?" You dared to challenge. "I don't know what you want from me. I'm not in the mood, James."

The curl of his name lingered, making your intentions clear. You never called him by his first name. And Bucky didn't like it one bit.

"Let me take you home."

As if you had a choice.

You choked on a frustrated snarl, wanting to hide and cry away your worries and wanting to claw at him like a villain. You hated it. You hated the pressure of his eyes, blue and dark against the night, to get in the car.

So you lifted your head high, took a steeling breath, and walked ahead of him. You were separated from the rest of the world in the backseat of his company car. The divider was a saving grace. You didn't want one of the drivers to see you like this.

But Bucky followed behind so quickly, getting in and closing the door before you could protest for space. You chose to stare out the window instead of looking back at him. The car lurched forward, and you took a moment to find balance.

"You're unhappy."

"No shit."

"Please," He started, turning his shoulders in toward you. Even out of the corner of your eye, you knew he wouldn't let this go. "Please talk to me. Don't close me out. I hated seeing you leave like that. Whatever Maximoff did, I'll fix it."

"You can't fix it!" You finally said, turning to him and gripping his shoulder in frustration. "You say you want me to be happy, to find someone, and then manage to scare off anyone that has the potential to do it." As your voice raised, heat radiated from your cheeks down your neck. His eyes were wide, listening to your grief. "He left because of you. It's not like you have feelings for me. What's the matter with you?"

You couldn't stand to look at him, not when he was so close. His cologne burned your nose, and you desperately needed him to get out of your system.

"Doll," Bucky breathed. He inched his way closer, not letting the anger of your words settle over him. "What if I did have feelings for you?" You would almost call his stare desperate. And then you confirmed it as his shoulders dropped, turning toward you. "It's all that I've wanted to tell you. And I can't see you with him." He admitted.

He moved with purpose all night, not intending to ruin your time with Pietro but to show you that he was the one who needed you. He should have been the one to hold you between dances and order you fine drinks. He should have picked you up so that you would never dare to get in a yellow cab.

But you weren't some wilting flower. You knew the risks of your following words.

"We're friends, Buck."

You held yourself together. You were strong and brave and gripping your heartstrings.

"Yes," He agreed. "But we…"

And for once, he was at a loss of words. The years wasted pining after him would finally be out in the open. You could finally be free of his torment. His eye contact was overwhelming; if he looked away, you would disappear.

"Look, We've been friends for a long time." And with an ounce more of bravery, you sighed. "But I'd like to be more than friends." You admitted. "I want to be so much more than that."

You were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Bucky leaned closer in earnest, over the seat and bringing his face close. There was no teasing, no torment in his expression.

And with the tip of his chin, you were lost, pulled tight into a kiss and letting it blossom as cold metal snaked around your waist. You dreamed of his touch, and it burned down your throat like honey whiskey.

When you opened your eyes, Bucky had moved. He was no longer in the seat, now chest to chest with you. He was kneeling in the cramped space, the divider shielding you from the driver and the outside world.

"Do you know why Sam offered to help in the first place?" His words were slow as he pulled away, loud enough to hear. "Do you know why Steve jumped on board and corralled us to join? It's because he is tired of me dragging my fucking feet."

"Bucky-"

But he closed the space for another set of slow kisses, deep and intentional.

"I've been an idiot." He admitted. "The guys know how I feel about you. I think they've always known." Another kiss as you pulled back, gripping the shoulders of his jacket. Expensive fabric under your fingertips, hot breath against yours. You were dizzy.

"And you agreed to help with this idea." You noted.

It wasn't a question, no challenge in your words. He agreed to help find you a man. Bucky took a hefty exhale.

"You know the business. It's not safe –" but you raised your hand with a groan, not buying his excuse.

Your fingers brushed over the curve of his chin, the sharp line of his beard a welcome sensation. God, you only ever dreamed of this. You savored the feel of him, your hand moving up his ear and combing your fingers through his air. Buck's eyes were darker than you've ever seen, his open mouth curving up in awe.

"'s not safe." He whispered. "I'm not gonna put you through that."

It was a weak defense. You knew the coterie of mercs, the warehouses, the shipments. You knew all of it and were aware of the danger. But it wasn't like you could cut ties and leave your life behind. You weren't sure you even wanted to.

"You wanted me to find someone else?" You dared to ask. The whisper died as he shook his head.

"All this deal did was make me jealous." He affirmed. "And tonight," His eyes raked down your frame. He never did finish his thought as lust washed over him. A breath passed between you two. "I never meant for you to hurt over it."

The limited space lets you mimic his actions, noting his heaving chest, blue eyes, and the pout of his kissed lips. How he kneeled down in front of you, crowding your space, made you dizzy. While your mouth curved up into a wanton grin, you couldn't help but chase another kiss.

Each touch melted the last of your anguish. The night was long forgotten as soon as he pressed forward, flattening you against the back of the seat. While you pulled up for air, his other hand moved to cup your chin. And then, with your eyes locked on his, he tilted your chin, eyes staring into the roof of the sedan as you felt lips against your jaw.

Hot, languid kisses burned against your pulse. The scrape of his teeth and burn of his beard drove you wild. And as he pulled back, his hand released your chin, following a mesmerized pattern down your skin.

The palm of his hand cupped your neck, down your shoulder, pulling down the thin strap of your dress. Your soft skin was on display, and Bucky's expression was wonderous. But his hand continued mapping, cupping the curve of your breast. A tactful squeeze left your head falling against the seat, a soft gasp on your lips, and your hand blindly reaching up to cover his. With a sharp breath, you found his eyes again. His pink lips were parted, eyes pleading with you.

You knew Bucky was a man of action, but this was uncharted territory. Your nod and an affectionate squeeze of his hand pulled him from his reverie.

He needed more, craving your skin. And as his hand fell from your chest to a solid grip on your ankle, you craved his exploration.

Shallow breaths were traded for deep, hungry kisses. Years of longing, of yearning for his touch and affection, finally were coming to a head. The brush of his tongue left your mind reeling, and regardless of the heat, a trail of goosebumps followed the path of his hand. Under your dress, he lingered over the smooth skin of your calf, over your knee, up your thigh, and to the meat of your hip. Rough, dexterous fingers carved prints into your skin hot enough to burn.

You refuse to miss a moment, eyes fixed on Bucky's as his palm covers the top of your thigh, the intention sitting heavy in your stomach. A live wire of nerves, you can feel him from the heat of your cheeks buzzing down to your toes.

And then, palming where you needed him most, your mouth dropped open with the softest of moans.

Bucky's eyes are wide, but it doesn't last as he finally lets himself get lost. As his eyes close, you admire the curve of his nose and his soft, dark eyelashes. But Buck is greedy, and as he peels his way under the cloth of your panties, you, too, close your eyes. Fingers are nimble, caressing your dripping seam under the dress.

You're a vision.

Convulsing under his touch, rogue pulls off his fingers drip honey down your thighs. Your breath is heaving, and your chest is dangerously close to falling out of the dress. Bucky finds refuge by rubbing slow, devastating circles against your clit. Every hitch of your breath and moan spur him on until you are staring at him with such reverence he thinks he'll collapse.

There's a magnetism, the long-lasting chemistry drawing you nearer to him. He swallows your moan as he slides a finger inside. You're in a desperate frenzy, pulling him close and arching into his body. He spurs on a need you've never had, demanding his smoldering kiss as you shake in his arms.

He's all you've ever wanted. You're crazy to think it could have ever been anyone else.

And then the car jerked to a stop.

There's a breathless laugh as he pulls away, Bucky's forehead resting on yours. You kept a hand on his cheek, thumb brushing his chin. Maybe, if you just ignored it, the outside world would go away.

That is, until you see a porch light turn on from your periphery. You try not to let embarrassment flood your system as you realize your situation, with one of your closest friends knuckle deep in the back seat.

Bucky doesn't share your distress.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, finally pulling his head back. Bucky smiled. His fingers lingered longer before pulling away, leaving you empty and wanting.

You must have looked as desperate as him, finally looking down at the brutal strain in his pants. But you had no time to overthink as his fingers carefully plucked at your dress strap. He was putting you back together, smoothing out the burn of his touch as he sat up.

If you begged, you were sure that he'd ravage you right there in the seat. But you tilted your head to look outside. You needed a distraction, anything to regain your good sense.

As you focused on the brownstone, you knew where he took you. You were in front of his house – the Barnes family house. He said he was taking you home.

"This isn't my place."

His smirk reached his eyes, and as he pulled open the door and jumped out, his gaze was fixed on you.

"For fucks sake, doll," Bucky's eyes were soft, still blown out. He held a hand out. "We've known each other our whole lives. I'm crazy about you. Are you gonna come up with me or not?"

And with an ardent stare, as if he hung the stars himself, you reached for his hand.

#mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky #mob!au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #the carriage scene #bucky barnes #lover boy

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arieslost · 7 months

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cinnamon whiskey | ln4

lando norris x fem!writer!reader

summary: you meet a famous race car driver in one of the last places you’d expect— the adirondacks.

word count: 4,578

warnings: drinking, minor injuries (small description of bruising)

masterlist — join my tag list here!

Your editor was going to kill you.

Every day brought you closer to the deadline for your manuscript, and every day you could hardly help yourself out in getting to your self-imposed goal of 1,000 words. It wasn’t a difficult feat; you’d done it before, and you didn’t have anything else to be doing. You had absolutely zero distractions: it was just you, your notebook, and your computer. There was only one problem.

The words just weren’t coming to you, and you’d already gotten a two week extension on the deadline. It felt like all your writing abilities had been rescinded.

“I’m screwed.” You professed to your best friend, falling into a pathetic heap on her couch. You needed a serious pick-me-up after struggling to write a measly paragraph, and she had readily offered a girls night.

“I think you’re being a little dramatic. Scoot over.” She replied, shoving your legs out of the way so she could sit. “Maybe you just need to get out of your house.”

“And go where? I can’t just pack up and take a vacation right now.” You grumbled into the couch cushion.

“Why don’t you go upstate?” She suggested after a moment of silence.

“Upstate?” You repeated.

“Yeah, go to the Adirondacks. My dad owns a house up there, remember? We had a blast the last time we were there.”

You and your best friend had gone up to the Adirondacks when you graduated college, and you always prefaced the retelling of it with, “It was one of the best weeks of my life.” You almost felt silly for not thinking of doing something like that in the first place.

“It might be a good idea… Do you think your dad would be okay with me staying there?”

Your best friend laughed. “Yes, you idiot. He’s let me stay there by myself, he’ll definitely let you.”

A mere 24 hours went by, and you were settled in a cozy cabin in the Adirondacks with the desperate hope of having the rest of your manuscript ready by the end of your stay. Otherwise, you might as well just fire yourself and save your editor some time.

It wasn’t the only cabin in the area– it was more like a very small community made up of six houses built exactly the same. The area was usually used by people with a decent amount of cash lining their pockets, so you were extra grateful to your best friend’s father. He had taken one look at the dejection on your face when your best friend had mentioned her grand idea, and simply handed you the keys with the promise that your stay would be free of charge.

You did feel a little out of place, though– you could have sworn one of your neighbors was in a movie you’d just watched, and another one was just so ridiculously attractive there was no way he wasn’t famous for something. You’d seen him out on his front porch when you arrived, and had to force yourself not to stare or salivate over his bare torso.

The change of scenery around you helped tremendously. At first. You always felt refreshed when you went somewhere new, particularly if it was somewhere you felt more connected to nature. You had gotten into the habit of taking walks to calm yourself when you got frustrated, and having new sights was definitely an exciting prospect for when you inevitably slammed your computer shut and stormed out the door like you just did a few moments ago.

You’ll be the first to admit it: the story just isn’t coming together. Your main character has a goal, a purpose, but she is entirely lacking any kind of driving force to get where she needs to go.

She has no motivation.

You can appreciate irony, but there’s nothing funny about it right now.

The dirt and leaves crunch under your feet as you walk down the first trail that you see. It branches off from the main path that runs between all of the houses: yours, the attractive guy’s, and one other, and then the suspected movie star’s and the other two on the other side. Right now, you just want to see nothing but the path before you, the trees in your peripheral vision, the gentle summer breeze in your hair, and maybe a chipmunk or a squirrel here and there.

But, of course, you can’t even have that. You’re alone with your thoughts for all of two seconds before you hear a crash off to your left that sends a few birds flying. You would have ignored it if not for the groan that immediately followed.

“Um… hello?” You call out, doubling back to try and see just what the hell had happened.

If you were in a horror movie, this would most certainly be your death scene.

“Ah…” It’s definitely a man, and he definitely sounds like he’s in pain.

“Are you okay?” You step off the path, getting closer to where the noise had come from.

That’s where you find him— your insanely attractive neighbor, practically in the fetal position, entirely focused on the camera in his hand. His jaw is clenched, whether in pain or concern for the camera, you don’t know. You just know he has a sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and curly hair.

Ugh, you could cry because he’s so good looking.

He looks up at you, eyes meeting yours, and he has the decency to look embarrassed.

“What the hell just happened to you?”

“I, um… I fell out of that tree.” He confesses, pointing to a branch, not too high up, but now dangling in half.

“And you were in the tree because…” You trail off, gesturing for him to explain further.

“Right, well, I was taking pictures and had an idea for a good one from a higher vantage point, so I climbed the tree. Thought I had a good balance, but—” He winces as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I didn’t.”

“No kidding. You’re lucky you didn’t break anything.” You marvel, hands held out in front of you just in case he falls over when he starts standing up.

“I’m not too sure about that.” He huffs out a pained laugh.

“You wouldn’t have been able to stand up so easily if you had, and your wrist and shoulder look fine.” You point out. “I have no doubt that you bruised your side up pretty badly though.”

“Yeah? How would you know?” He leans against the tree he just fell out of, his miraculously unbroken camera hanging from the strap around his neck.

“I’m a writer. I’m like a black hole of useless information.”

“I don’t think it’s useless anymore.” He takes a step forward and his face immediately contorts into a grimace. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, you’ve already asked so much of me, but if you really have to, then sure.” You tease, and he laughs again.

“I’m probably going to need some help getting back to the house,” he begins, and then continues after taking in the surprised look on your face. “But you don’t have to. I can just crawl or something. Maybe I’ll get lucky and make it back before nightfall.”

Not just attractive, but funny too? You might as well make the most out of these two weeks and use whatever you can to help you finish that dreaded manuscript. Besides, the only other person you’ve ever met who can hold a torch to your sense of humor is your best friend. This has to be a sign of some sort.

“Alright, but at least tell me your name first.”

His name is Lando, you’ve known him for an hour, and you think you’re in love with him.

Sure, you’re frustrated that he completely ruined the solitude that you craved, but the ice maker in his house is broken and he desperately needs some for the bruise that you know is darkening by the second underneath his t-shirt. So he’s sprawled out on your couch, and you’re in the kitchen collecting ice cubes to wrap up in a hand towel.

“Alright, lift your shirt up,” you instruct, walking into the living room and taking a seat beside him.

“I usually take a girl out before I let her see me half naked.”

“But it’s okay if everyone else sees you out on your porch half naked?”

“You were looking?” He tilts his head down a little and raises his eyebrows. “Liked what you saw, did you?”

You blush. “Just shut up and lift your shirt.”

He hums a little to himself as he pulls his shirt up, revealing the beginnings of a bruise on his tan skin that is already swollen and definitely going to get worse over the next couple of days. It looks like it continues below the waistband of his boxers, but you’re not about to tell him to pull his pants down.

“That’s ugly.”

“I’ve had worse.” He shrugs, biting his lip when you gently rest the makeshift ice pack against his side.

“You have a habit of falling out of trees?”

“I have a habit of being in potentially life-threatening situations. It’s kinda part of my job.” He says it like he’s waiting for you to figure something out, waiting for something to click.

You take a moment to just look at him again. His fluffy curls, his infuriatingly handsome face, his thick neck, his toned stomach. And then something you’ve heard your best friend say a million times echoes in your head.

I bet every F1 driver’s contract has a clause that says they have to be hot in order to get in. I mean, you have Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc, and don’t even get me started on–

“Oh my God. Lando Norris?” You exclaim, almost jumping up from shock but stopping yourself so you don’t jostle him. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I thought you knew!”

You glare at him. “Cocky much?”

“Well, what did you think when I told you my name?” He asks defensively.

“I don’t know, I thought your parents really liked Star Wars or something.”

He scoffs at this and smacks your hand away, holding the ice himself. “That’s real creative.”

“I’m sorry! My best friend is really into Formula One, but the most I’ve seen is bits and pieces of a race. I’ve never seen you, y’know, not in your car.” You feel like your eyes are practically bugging out of your head. “Wow, this is insane.” You knew he was too good looking to not be famous.

“Want me to sign something for you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“I will punch you right in your bruise.”

He stays for a couple more hours, readily enduring your endless stream of questions that follow your revelation of him being a Formula One driver, only getting a reprieve when the ice melts and you have to go get more.

He compensates for recounting his entire journey to Formula One by asking you his own questions the moment he’s done. You tell him more about how you became a writer– how you got your bachelor’s degree, got out into the world, and realized you had no clue what you wanted to do with your life, so you took a retail job. It paid a dollar above minimum wage, but it was worth it when something you heard a customer say once inspired you to craft a narrative that your editor liked enough to pick it up. She’d taken a gamble on you; you were her fourth client and the book wasn’t finished yet.

“So that’s why I’m out here,” you pause to catch your breath. “I need to have the manuscript done two weeks from yesterday, and I wasn’t getting anything done at home.”

“Needed a change of scenery.” Lando nods, like he can read your mind.

“Exactly.” You say quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious under his intense gaze but refusing to look away.

The energy in the room shifts as the two of you look at each other, and you break the sudden eye contact when you take note of the fact that it’s dark out.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he breaks the silence, pulling his shirt back down and letting out a quiet groan as he gets up. “I’ll see you tomorrow? There’s no way someone will be able to get up here to fix my ice machine by the morning.”

You blink at him a couple times, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you just spent hours talking with Lando Norris, all because he fell out of a tree. You didn’t even offer to make him dinner or anything, and he’s making plans to do this all over again.

You still haven’t spoken, so he waves his hand in front of your face. “Oh! Yeah, of course. Be careful, okay?”

He gives you an obnoxious salute. “I’ll try to survive the 50 steps it takes to get to my place from here.”

You go running for your laptop and start writing as soon as he’s gone.

He’s at your door in the morning, and spends the whole day with you. Then the next, and the next, and the next thing you know, you only have four days left in your best friend’s dad’s house and it feels like you and Lando have known each other your entire lives. He isn’t able to do much in terms of physical activity, and when he trips over a root after insisting he’s fine you make the executive decision to go back to your house.

“Make some room, would you?” You sigh, looking for a place to sit thanks to the fact that he’s taking up the entire couch.

He simply lifts his head up.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m in pain. Don’t you want me to be comfortable?” He pouts at you.

“You’re insufferable, and a liar.” All the same, you sit down, and he rests his head in your lap.

He ignores you, eyes closed with a satisfied little smile on his face.

For his antics, you decide to disturb his newfound peace by putting the ice pack directly on his face and laugh when he bats it away.

“That’s just mean,” he whines, pressing his lips together when you put the ice on his bruise.

It’s mostly yellow and green now, like a weird rendition of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Lando had made a game out of poking it two nights ago that ended just as quickly when he poked himself too hard and blamed you for it when you had been in the middle of telling him not to. After that, he hadn’t touched it, and now it looks a lot better. The ice probably isn’t needed anymore, but you’d prefer to err on the side of caution.

“You’ll live,” you say now, patting the top of his head to distract him from the discomfort.

“The last time I had a bruise this bad was when I crashed in Vegas last year.” He says, blinking up at the ceiling. “Took a while to go away.”

“I think I remember hearing about that. You crashed pretty early, no?”

“Yup. Barely got to race.” The sentences come out very clipped, like he’s still upset about it.

“It was a bad crash, huh?”

“Pretty bad.” You don’t have anything to say in response to that, so you start brushing your fingers through his curls. He relaxes instantaneously.

He almost falls asleep with his head in your lap, and that’s when you can’t take it anymore and have to kick him out. He’s almost to the last step when he stops and turns back, making direct eye contact with you.

“Y’know, it’s too bad you weren’t there when I crashed.” He gives you a soft smile. “You’re pretty good at taking care of me.”

Well, shit.

There’s a bottle of cinnamon whiskey sitting in one of the kitchen cabinets that you’ve been waiting for an excuse to open. You should drink it now when you’re thinking about him, but you decide to wait until you see him again.

You open your laptop and write until you fall asleep.

By the time you let him in the next morning, you’re stumped again. You only slept for a few hours and expected to get right back into your groove the moment you woke up, but when you read over what you wrote last night, your brain just refused to comprehend it. It feels like you’re back to square one, but you can’t be too upset about it when Lando makes his way through the door. He doesn’t mention anything about ice like he usually does, which makes you equally happy and disappointed. Happy that he’s feeling good enough to forego the ice, disappointed because that means that there’s really no reason for him to come over anymore.

But if there’s one thing you can expect from him, it’s his spontaneity.

“We should go out tonight.”

“And where exactly would we be going?” You ask, watching him kick back on the couch like he’s the one that lives here.

“I dunno, just outside, I guess. You like stargazing?”

“I love it.” You reply enthusiastically. “I bet the stars are gorgeous out here. I’ve been cooped up every night, I haven’t had the chance to see them.”

“It’s settled then. Cancel your plans, you’re all mine tonight.”

“I didn’t— never mind.” You silently will away the flush creeping up your neck. “Actually, I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How’d those pictures come out? The ones you were trying to take when you fell?” You lean over the back of the couch in order to actually see him as you’re talking to him.

“That was two questions.” He laughs when you smack his shoulder. “I got a couple action shots as I was falling. They’re terrible, but I’m thinking about keeping them for the memories. Fun story for the kids, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” The kids?! You’re definitely breaking out the whiskey tonight. It’s the first (and only) thing you grab when he goes back to his place to get a blanket.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You ask the moment the two of you step onto the trail, and he puts a hand over his heart.

“Your concern for me is adorable.”

“I’m only asking because you almost ate shit last time.” You burst out laughing at the immediate change in his expression.

He ends up leading the way for a mile or two before you reach a clearing that you would’ve discovered had he not fallen out of the tree.

“This is beautiful,” you muse, taking in your surroundings as Lando lays the blanket on the ground.

The sun is just about set, a light breeze passing through; a few different wildflowers are waving throughout the clearing. You look around and can’t see any sign of civilization. While that should make you nervous, since you’re with a guy you’ve only known for less than two weeks, it instead makes you relax. You forget entirely about your computer waiting for you back at the house and busy yourself with getting the top off the whiskey bottle.

“Found it the second day I was here. I’ll have to show you the pictures I got once I upload them all.” Lando says, furrowing his eyebrows as you struggle with your task. “Need some help there?”

“Be my guest,” you hand it over and have to force yourself to remain calm when he pops the top off like it was nothing.

“Ladies first,” he hands it back.

With pleasure, you think to yourself. Maybe getting drunk will help you stop acting like a schoolgirl. You take a generous drink, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing out slowly. “That is strong.”

“Hand it over.” He lets out a low whistle as soon as he swallows and returns it to you. “Wow.”

“I actually had a dream like this once,” you say, wincing at the burn of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. “I was just laying there, staring at the stars, with no worries. It was so peaceful.”

Lando takes the bottle from your outstretched hand. “I don’t dream.”

“What?!” The high pitch of your voice slices through the night. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” He takes a long sip from the bottle before placing it down in the space between you. “Never have.”

“That’s- that’s crazy.” You shake your head.

“I’d think it’s nicer that way, no?” he counters. “I probably sleep better than you.”

“I mean, I guess. But then you don’t have any crazy dreams to share.”

“You always remember your dreams?”

Now, you blush. You’re not sure why you’re embarrassed. “I, um… I keep a journal.”

Lando’s eyes widen. “No way.”

“I have dreams written down all the way back to 2015.” You confess, reaching for the bottle again.

He starts laughing, like he thinks you’re joking.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, shoving his shoulder. “In my defense, I’ve actually come up with some ideas from my dreams. Fat lot of good they’re doing for me right now, but…”

Lando hums, eyes skimming over your now crestfallen expression. He passes the bottle back.

“Thanks,” you mumble, tilting the bottle up to your lips.

“I’m sure you’ll find some type of inspiration while we’re out here.”

“I only have two days left, Lan.”

He gestures for you to pass the bottle back, and you do. You watch as he takes a sip, looking from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck, to his Adam’s apple that bobs as he swallows. You’re really going to miss this view. He lets out a quiet hiss. “Damn, that’s strong whiskey.”

“I told you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, and then he speaks again. “My ice machine got fixed.”

“That’s—”

“Last week.” He cuts you off, doing that stupid thing he does where he stares directly into your eyes.

Your heart is in your throat, and your voice is small when you reply. “Okay…”

“And I was supposed to leave three days ago.”

Now your jaw drops. “Why… Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re still here.” He answers evenly, the alcohol clearly working in his favor. “I initially came here for the same reason as you– needed a change of scenery. It’s summer break right now, and my friend Logan told me it was super nice up here. It is, but then I had my little mishap and… it’s been a lot better since you showed up. So I decided to stay a little longer.”

He’s close to you now, so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath, so you say the only thing you can think to say. “I can’t believe you fell out of a tree.”

“I can’t believe you took care of me this whole time.” He brushes your hair out of your face, and his fingers linger on your cheek.

Your internal giddiness rises when you realize he’s actually about to kiss you. Your stomach is doing Olympic level gymnastics and you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you let the whiskey do it for you: you kiss him first.

You can’t remember the last time you kissed anyone, but the moment he pulls you on top of him you know that you won’t ever forget kissing him.

“Lan…” you break away from him to catch your breath, smoothing his curls back from his forehead. You can just see the glint in his eyes as he stares up at you, and it’s borderline painful knowing that you only get to enjoy this view for two more days.

You don’t remember what you were going to say to him. It’s way too soon for “I love you,” and not the right time to say “I already miss you.” You still want to say both.

Like he can hear your inner turmoil, he silences it by touching his forehead to yours. “Kiss me again, please,” he whispers.

You don’t waste a second in giving him what he wants, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips against yours again. You’re careful to avoid his side as he lays back on the blanket, keeping a firm grip on your hips so you don’t go anywhere. You try to convey everything you want to say into the kiss: I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I know I’m going to miss you. Please don’t let me go.

He holds you closer and gently slips his tongue into your mouth, and you melt into him, knowing the whole while that Lando Norris has effectively ruined all other men for you.

Six Months Later.

Your phone is ringing in the other room as you’re in the middle of recounting the kiss to your best friend for the millionth time.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you apologize. “It might be important.”

Thinking it’s your editor, because who else would call you at this late hour, you don’t look at the caller ID before you answer. “Hi, listen, I wanted to talk to you about—”

“The love interest falls out of a tree, huh?”

Your mouth falls open. “Lando?”

“That would be me. Or should I change my name to Darren?”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I thought you were never going to call me.”

You’d finished your manuscript the day before you went home. He’d been sleeping right next to you as you wrote the final words, and you should’ve brought it up that morning. Instead, you left your number on his porch the day you left, too deep in overthinking mode to actually face him and properly say goodbye. You truly didn’t expect him to call you after that act of such cowardice, especially after the two of you spent almost the entirety of your last days together at various levels of undress.

“I really wanted to,” he admits. “At least ten different times. I think Oscar might have assaulted me if I chickened out this time.”

“Yeah, because you won’t shut the hell up about her!” A voice in the background exclaims, and you hear something go flying.

“Get out!” Lando snaps, and you can hear Oscar’s laughter fading.

“Sweet of you to subject him to hearing all about me.”

“Come to the race at Silverstone.” He says before you can even finish your sentence. “I’ll pay for the flight, the hotel, everything. Just come.”

You feel like the floor just fell out from under your feet. “Lan—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” It’s said in a nearly unintelligible whisper, but his tone changes so suddenly you have to sit down.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” You confess. “That’s… kind of why I wrote you into my book.”

“Please, come to Silverstone,” he repeats, practically begging. “Come be with me.”

And when he finds you in the crowd after taking the win at his home race, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours for everyone to see, you’re immediately taken back to those two weeks you spent in the Adirondacks, where you finally found the inspiration you’d been missing your entire life.

note: this one goes out to my fellow writers who desperately wish their inspiration would fall out of a tree— writer’s block will never defeat us.

this got a little long, so if you’re reading this, thank you thank you thank you.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @anathedivine @xfuckoffx @architect-2015 @violetiss3lfish @havaneselover08 @paigeworlds @whatever7justchillin @xoredmoonlightxo @dovieloovie @totowolffstablexoxo @maddie-bell @lalisgs11 @rrrraaaalllluuuu @formulasportworld @madisonbidaddy @anedpev @estherapz-blog @jess-wither @loveyatopluto @athena-artemis-dorian-gray @lou-larcher5 @clearlyabi @fizzpopsnap101 @fluerlaurent @mcmuppet @positiveaspirations @notturlover @crazymofo-96 @chanthereader @apollo-axolotl

#full fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic

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gh0st-in-green-c0nverse · 9 months

Text

sea salt

percy jackson & gn! reader — reader comes back to camp after a long summer away

tw - implied alcoholism (not of reader but of a parent)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Just call it fall. No one calls it autumn.”

The curb digs into the backs of your thighs, shorts not doing much for the growing chill.

“I call it autumn.”

“hm. Weird.”

There’s a girl who lives down the street from you, by the stop sign on the corner. She has eyes like chocolate and ribbons in her hair. Her name is—

“Penny, I don’t get why the leaves here never turn. They go from green to brown. It’s stupid.”

She takes a long, contemplative sip from her juicebox. “Weather ain’t cut out for it. It gets real pretty upstate, though. That’s where you’re going tomorrow, right?”

A beat. Right, the ‘boarding school’ you go to every school year.

“Yeah. Right. The scenery’s beautiful.” Penny takes another loud sip. “Apple?”

“Grape.” She shows you the box as if you needed proof. You wrinkle your nose.

“That’s—"

clang!

“Penny!!!!” Someone screeches. It echoes, bounces around the neighborhood in the fading light.

Her brother rounds the corner, bicycle helmet dangling from one hand, blood dripping down his knees.

“Holy hell,” Penny swears. She stands with an apologetic glance. “Have fun upstate. Send me pictures of the le—"

“Penny!!!”

You laugh. “I will! You better go tend to him. He’s clearly in critical condition.”

She rolls her eyes. “How dire.” But she jogs over to him anyways.

One by one, the streetlights flicker on. There’s a melancholy that comes with the dusk that you can’t shake.

Penny’s left her juicebox.

You start home.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

It feels like you’re suffocating the second you step through the front door.

It’s simple. Get the taxi money from the drawer in the kitchen, go back to your room, stay there until you can leave tomorrow. Just this one thing.

Just this last thing.

The floorboards creak as you walk through the kitchen. There are glass bottles and crumpled cans on the counter. You toss them in the bin and make a mental note to stay away from Dad.

The drawer sticks the first time you pull on it, so you pull again, harder. It scrapes open.

You grab a twenty and some change and concurrently nick yourself on the stapler. Blood wells. You hiss through your teeth.

Dad is in the living room on the couch, knocked out. His breath is sour.

You tiptoe upstairs. Just one more night. Then you can leave again.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

The door slams shut behind you.

You shoulder the duffel bag and close the trunk of the car.

“You sure this is where?” The taxi driver is a stern looking lady. Her hair is streaked with gray.

“Yep, I’m sure.”

You’re at the base of the hill.

“Really? Because there’s nothing here.”

“I’m meeting someone here,” you say, attempting a sure smile. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

She stares at you for a moment, eyes narrowing. “‘Kay.”

The taxi sputters off.

You’ve never understood why they made the entrance to camp so damn steep. This sucks, this sucks, this sucks, muttered with every footfall.

The grass is making your ankles itch.

It’s all worth it when you cross the camp boundary, though. You can feel it, like a shift in the air. You breathe it in, feel the pressure in your chest start to dissipate.

Someone calls your name, excited and breathless. You turn and immediately are sent stumbling back by a blur of orange.

They smell like cut grass and salt. Not like sweaty salt, but like sea salt. It’s nice.

“Hey, Percy.”

He laughs into your shoulder, arms wrapped around your back.

“Hi.”

You let your head rest against his. Gods, you’ve missed this place. You’ve missed him.

Your eyes sting. The orange fabric at his shoulders bunches as you hug him tighter. He rocks back and forth on his feet but lets you cling to him.

You’re the one who pulls away first.

“You okay?” He murmurs.

He could feel the tremble of your fingers when they were laced behind his back.

“Yeah. Why?”

Percy searches for something in your eyes. You’re not sure what though. Maybe an excuse to pry about the watery sheen to them.

He doesn’t pry, though. Instead, he leads you back to the pavilion, hand in hand.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

By the time you’ve settled in, the sun is dipping below the pine trees. Yesterday at this time, you were on the curb with Penny. Now, you sit before a roaring campfire, the gloom of dusk chased away by kids giggling and music playing.

The smoke is sweet smelling. It draws spirals in the sky, dusty gray stark against orange streaks.

You’re somewhere off to the side of the benches. It’s too loud right next to the flames.

Percy’s shoulder is barely brushing yours.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay here for the summer.” His voice is quiet. It dissolves sweetly with the smoke.

“Me too.”

You can feel him turn to look at you, curls ghosting the shell of your ear.

“I missed you.”

You turn to look at him, to really look at him. There’s something sad behind his eyes, but it’s barely there. It flickers in the firelight. Maybe it’s what he saw in yours.

“Me too. It’s good to be back.”

You link your pinky with his and he smiles at you, sickeningly sweet.

It really is good to be back.

The fire roars. You let your head drop to his shoulder. Percy drops his head too, his cheek to your temple.

That night, you text Penny.

hey. you were right; the leaves are really pretty upstate. hope your brother survived. x

#percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fics #percy jackon and the olympians

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gothcsz · 4 months

Text

Dusk | No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader | ~8.2k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You become a park ranger at a national park in California after breaking up with your ex. You meet Joel Miller, the chief ranger there, and find yourself absolutely smitten over him.

Tags: smut, attempted assault (not by joel), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, oral (f recieving), no use of Y/N, reader is a professor, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: i wrote this during a long car ride in my notes app so i’m NAWT liable for any mistakes xoxo this is also my first attempt at writing joel so i hope i did our man justice 😋

You’ve always been an outdoorsy person. Girl scout as a child, camp counselor in your teens, camp manager in your twenties— and not to mention the plenty of solo camping trips you’ve taken and the amount of hikes you’ve trekked.

Then there’s your full time job as wildlife biology professor in New York.

Being out in nature is the only time you ever feel true, serene peace. Who would have thought? It keeps you healthy and entertained. Most of the hobbies you indulge in and skills you have revolve around being outdoors.

Becoming a park ranger had never been part of your plans, per se, but after a really messy engagement that ended with the wedding being postponed indefinitely and then being overwhelmed by your friends and family afterwards; you needed an out.

The offer to become a ranger at a national park in California came at the perfect time. You didn’t hesitate to sign on to the job, especially since it was being offered to you by a long-time close friend you had met online through a Hiking Tips & More! Facebook group.

So you packed as much as you needed and booked your flight from upstate New York to California.

You’d be stationed there for the summer and the pay was decent. Whatever, you weren’t too hung up on that detail since you are financially stable enough to take the pay cut for the next few months.

After going through the motions of getting registered and settling in at the local lodge themed motel, you use an afternoon to just take everything in. You’ve never had the pleasure to visit any of the parks on the west coast so this experience is extra exciting for you.

You’re already prepared yourself to do some birdwatching and to brush up on your botany knowledge.

Before you are assigned a location and station, it’s required for you to attend an orientation of sorts for the new cohort of rangers working for the summer.

The intent is to go over routines and day-to-day tasks. Most of the job you already know from when you got your certification before going to graduate school. You thought you would have the time to become a ranger then, but life had humbled you quickly so the certification was never put to use.

Until now.

It’s around 7 in the morning when you arrive to the meeting room at the national park. Others linger around but you make a beeline towards the coffee machine; absolutely needing your caffeine fix for the morning.

Definitely don’t forget to bring that with you. You went quite feral without caffeine— god forbid any man, or bear, come across you before you’ve had your cup of coffee.

You fix the drink as you always take it, realizing you’ve just emptied what was left in the glass container.

Not wanting to be the asshole that left everyone else with no coffee, you rummage through the cupboards until you find the container with the grounds and you brew more, doing your good deed for the day.

Blowing against the mug before bringing it up to your lips, you savor the taste and let out a content hum.

“Was that the last of it?”

Your attention immediately flits up at the sound of the deep, southern drawl that’s like honey to your ears.

Before you stands a unit of a man: tall, broad— rugged. He’s obviously older, the salt and pepper colors of his hair and beard complimenting both smile lines and frown wrinkles on his face.

Oh, he’s handsome as hell.

“U-Uh no— yes… Well I just put more in. Should be ready soon.” You flash him a small smile, mentally kicking yourself for stuttering like a fool. Suddenly, you’re aware of how unflattering the park ranger uniform looks on you.

He can’t say the same, clearly, since the collared shirt hugs him snugly across his triceps and shoulders, stretching across the broadness of his chest. There’s a few pins attached to his front, and that’s when you catch the golden glint of his metallic name tag.

J. Miller

He just nods in response, his gaze fixated on you, “I recognize most people here.… but not you. This your first rodeo as a ranger?”

Now it’s your turn to nod, “Yes, but not my first rodeo in the field. I got my certification a few years back but never got the chance to use it.”

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the smell of the fresh brewing coffee hitting your senses. “Ah— I see. Figured you were new. I woulda definitely remembered a pretty face like yours.”

This has you blushing, hard, and biting down softly on your bottom lip. You can’t remember the last time someone had so openly flirted with you like this.

Your asshole of an ex-fiance quit complimenting you shortly after getting engaged. Come to think of it, most of the problems and red flags started happening after you got the ring on your finger.

Ugh, focus! You scold yourself. You have an attractive, out of your league man flirting with you and you’re here thinking of your shitty ex.

“Thank you. I think I would have remembered a face like mine, too.” You’ve never been good at receiving compliments, so you do what you do best and use humor to navigate the conversation.

He chuckles and immediately you’re wanting to hear more of that sound. It’s deep yet comforting and now you’re wondering if you’re being a weirdo for being attracted to a man’s laugh (amongst other things) like this.

You make small talk standing by the coffee machine as more people begin to trickle in. He tells you his name is Joel and that he’s been a park ranger for twenty years and a chief ranger for ten. He has a daughter named Sarah who’s in college further down in the state and you can tell just how much he cares about her by the way he dotes on her.

No mention of a wife or girlfriend, though. You don’t see a band on his finger… there’s no way this man is just walking around single like this.

In return, you tell him your name and some of your background (sans the trainwreck engagement) and he’s fascinated by the fact that you’re a professor.

His interest in you has butterflies fluttering in your stomach and it doesn’t help that he’s got the sexiest little Texan accent you’ve ever heard. Each word sending you deeper and deeper into this crush that has blossomed seemingly out of nowhere for a man you’ve just met.

Amidst the conversation that flows naturally between the two of you, there’s an aura of flirtation and attraction that the both of you seem to be reciprocating. Or at least you are. Hopefully you’re not reading this wrong.

Please don’t let me be reading this wrong.

It’s not until you both have finished your coffee that everyone arrives and he has to excuse himself.

Apparently he’s leading the orientation.

The entire time he’s giving his presentations and demonstrating safety procedures, you can’t help but ogle him.

He fits this career so well with how carries himself. Confident, steadfast, knowledgeable, fucking sexy. You just want to run your fingers through his curly, thick hair and tug on it while you ride the daylights out of him.

This sudden intrusive thought has you clenching your thighs together and that’s enough to get your focus back on the meeting and not how you want him to demolish you.

His forearm flexes, the veins protruding, as he demonstrates how to tie a tight and secure knot; his fingers moving dexterously against the rope.

Damn your dry spell and this attractive ass man.

The orientation concludes with everyone getting their assigned areas and tasks. Your folder is labeled 125.

“We’re on a two week on two week off schedule. You’ll spend two weeks manning your station before there’s a shift change. Daily tasks will be given during mornin’ check-ins along with any other pivotal information. Each camp has a binder with any additional information you will need alongside a long list of phone numbers and radio codes in case somethin’ goes awry. First shift report back here at 6 sharp tomorrow mornin’. Any further questions can be directed towards me or my partner Tommy.”

“Brother,” Tommy, who has been leaning against the wall this entire time, interjects with a playful grin and this has your brows quirking in both amusement and intrigue. He works with his younger brother. How cute.

“Yeah, yeah. That too.” Though it’s gruff, you can clearly pick up the lighthearted tone in Joel’s reply.

You want to stick around and talk with him some more, but you don’t want to come off as annoying so the second you’re all dismissed— you’re the first to be out of the room.

It’s not till you’re further down the hall that you hear your name being called out and turn to see Joel lightly jogging to catch up.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” You ask teasingly and you catch the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“Not at all. Just wanted to make sure you were okay with your assignment.” You hadn’t even looked at the folder that he had passed to you during the meeting. It had all the information about your post.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You open the file and see a small map with your area circled in red sharpie. You see the surnames of all the other park rangers littered about on the page; and then you see Miller written by the fire lookout closest to yours.

“I gave you a smaller area since it’s your first time out here and all,” He scratches at his jaw, as if he’s almost nervous to be telling you this, “Once you get the hang of it, which ‘m sure will be in no time, I’ll put ya somewhere more… challengin’.”

It’s sweet, this gesture of his. Easing you into the job. If it had been anyone else, you would have defended your skillset and wit and demanded to be put somewhere ‘challenging’, but since it’s Joel you don’t think twice about it.

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks for this.” You smile up at him as you close the folder and he matches the expression, making him look boyish as his sweet brown eyes catch yours.

“No problem, darlin’. See you tomorrow mornin’?”

Or we can go back to my motel room, get to know each other a little bit better?

“See you tomorrow morning.”

⛰️ 🏕️ 🪓 🐻 ☀️

You finish packing the rest of your things before heading out for your first shift on the job.

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you straighten out your uniform and fix your neatly braided hair before exiting the stuffy motel room.

You wouldn’t be so hung up on your appearance had it not been for the attractive DILF that’s suddenly overtaken every inch of your mind.

You haven’t stopped thinking about him since meeting him yesterday. He seems so sweet and kind; but also with a ruggedness that makes you wonder what kind of lover he is.

Is he a giver or does he only focus on getting himself off? Does he bite and leave marks? Does he prefer his women being bent over or on top of him?

Yeah, you definitely need to go outside and touch some grass.

This entire experience feels like a new beginning, a chance to reinvent yourself before flying back home and starting the new semester.

Your cab takes longer than expected to arrive at the motel, which in turn makes you late to showing up at the meeting spot.

When you burst through the doors, breathing heavily, your heart sinks at the sight of an empty room and you berate yourself for not allotting extra time for mishaps.

“Thought you got cold feet.”

You jump in your spot and whip around to face the handsome jump scare.

Joel is leaning against the counter on the back wall, arms crossed over his chest making the fabric of his button up shirt stretch obscenely over his toned upper body.

“Can’t be too jumpy out in the woods, darlin’. ‘S how you get got.”

“Fuck— sorry. My cab ran late, which isn’t an excuse for my tardiness but—”

He chuckles with a shake of his head and that has the rest of your words hitching in your throat.

“Relax, s’okay. All is right. Everyone else is already situated out there. Figured I’d hang back in case you showed. Didn’t really think you’d bail. Don’t seem like the type.”

You’re relieved, to say the least, that he’s taking mercy on you despite not liking the fact that he has to.

You’re a professional, running late is out of character for you. Even if it was due to a circumstance you couldn’t control.

You let your shoulders drop, pairing the action with a soft sigh. “Thank you. It won’t happen again. I’m more than ready to start the day.”

He studies you for a brief moment with an unreadable expression and it makes you self conscious. Is there something on my face? Is my hair sticking out somewhere?

“Okay. C’mon, let me drive you to your station.” He pushes himself off the counter and you follow him out of the cabin-styled building and to his ranger truck that has the park’s name printed on it in bold letters.

“Nice ride.” You say as you slide into the cab of the truck, setting your large backpack in the back seat.

He mutters out a brief thanks before starting the vehicle and pulling out into the rocky terrain of the park.

You can’t help the look of awe on your face as you stick your head out of the rolled down window to take in the view.

The picturesque peak of the mountain ranges surrounded by lush greenery is breathtaking and it only makes you more excited to have some alone time in the midst of it all.

What you don’t see, though, is the way Joel keeps stealing glances at you. He thinks you’re so beautiful, especially with how entranced you are by the natural setting.

You finally make it to the small area of your camp and he helps you settle in to the small structure that’ll be your home for the next two weeks.

It consists of a twin bed, bedside table, a small desk with your equipment on it and a lamp.

Very home-y. You really only got the place for the view.

“Thanks for the ride… and for waiting for me back there.” You tell him, adjusting the backpack strap against your shoulder.

“S’not a problem at all. I’m posted up a few miles north so that makes us neighbors.”

“Well, if I need some sugar or something— I’ll make sure to stop by.” You tease and this gets a chuckle out of him which has your heart soaring.

“Alright, sugar, you radio me or anyone else if you need anythin’’.”

“I will.”

⛰️ 🏕️ 🪓 🐻 ☀️

The first week goes by like a breeze. You spend most of your days hiking around your assigned area to make sure everything is as normal as it can be out here.

You tend to your daily tasks, listening along to your audiobooks. Taking in the scenery. You even find the time to explore some of the various native flowers and plants that bloom here.

It’s peaceful and exactly what you needed.

You come to discover that while you were already attracted to the sound of Joel’s deep, honeyed southern voice; you were even more attracted to it over the distortion of the radio.

Every morning you’re greeted by it during task assignments and when he gives the weather forecast for the day.

Every afternoon you hear it when he checks-in through the walkie talkie.

Every night you hear it when he does roll call to make sure everyone is alright and present.

Those are the only times you’re able to really communicate with him. You’re both so busy dealing with the job during the day then bone tired by night to really make anything out of the attraction that lingers.

And boy does it linger. You’ve never been this worked up over a man… like ever. Even with your ex the infatuation had never been this intense.

The sex with him was fine. Normal. Vanilla. The lovers you had before him were all a variation of the same thing.

So the bar was in hell— literally. That’s probably why you’re so obsessed with wanting Joel Miller to fucking destroy you.

You’re on the way back to your camp for the day when you come across a clearing, four men camping out of various tents.

“Park ranger here. Just making my rounds. Are you guys well?”

You smile politely at them, watching as they eye you up and down then suddenly— you’re feeling uncomfortable in your own skin.

“Better now. You out here all alone, sweetheart?”

You clock the pervy tone in his voice immediately, clenching your jaw but trying to keep an aura of professionalism.

You’re required to carry a gun and a taser, for obvious reasons, but not once did you ever think you would actually have to use it.

Yet with the way these men are staring at you like you’re a piece of meat— you’re really resisting the urge to let your hand hover over the weapon.

“Heading back to my partner now. You guys have a good night.” You lie with a forced smile that pains your lips as you turn from them, wanting to put as much distance between you and them as you can.

No way are you revealing that you are, in fact, alone with the nearest help being miles away.

“Oh c’mon, baby, stay a while.” A different man calls out and you can hear them following after you.

Your stomach bottoms out at the thought of them actually following you all the way back to your camp. Your location is marked on most of the maps that are posted around the area, in case of emergencies, but now you’re hyperaware that they could just go look for it and find you in no time.

Swallowing thickly, you trek forward and continue to ignore their catcalls until suddenly one of them has got a tight hold on your forearm and yanks you back against his chest.

You let out a squeal of surprise mixed with fear. Your only saving grace right now is your giant backpack since it keeps you from being flush against him.

“Get your hands off me!” You struggle against his iron grip, trying to use your free hand to reach for your weapon but he twists the arm he does have in his hold, and it renders you immobile.

You wince at the pain, adrenaline coursing through you as you hear his three other friends join and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what demise you’re about to meet.

You’re so fucking afraid so you channel that fear to kickstart your flight or fight— choosing both as you lift your foot then slam it down harshly against your captors foot.

Thank god for these heavy ass hiking boots.

The hit does enough to loosen his grip on you just enough for you to shimmy out; using the fleeting seconds you have to knee him in the balls before you take off running.

You hear them screaming profanities at you, calling you a “cunt” “bitch” “whore” amongst many other things. They’re relentless as you hear twigs snapping and leaves crushing beneath their running footsteps.

Your backpack is hindering you at this point so you unbuckle the straps that run across your chest and discard of it quickly, changing course to try and throw them off your trail.

You don’t know how long you run or where you run to, now completely lost as the last hint of sunlight disappears behind the mountains.

You don’t hear anyone chasing after you anymore but you’re not stupid enough to stop and check, so you do the next best thing which is to change your route again before finding solace behind a Giant sequoia tree.

Taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart, you slowly peek around the hefty trunk to see if they were still chasing after you.

They’re not.

Allowing yourself to feel relief, you lean back against the tree and close your eyes to keep the tears away.

Don’t cry— not now. You’re not completely out of the woods yet… ha!

You shake your head at your conscience, hands shaking as they reach for your walkie talkie to seek the help of the only man you want around you right now.

“Call to 121 from 125. Over.”

“121 to 125 on frequency 9. Over.”

You switch frequencies and immediately break procedure once you know it’s just you and Joel on the call.

“J-Joel? Do you copy? Over.”

Immediately he responds, worry evident in his voice.

“What’s goin’ on? Are you okay? Over.”

You take a second to calm down so you can concisely explain your situation.

“I was chased through the forest by a group of campers. I got disoriented, lost my bag, and now I-I’m lost and it’s so dark out. I need you to come find me. Or lead me to you… Over.”

“What do you see around you? Any distinctive characteristics? A trail? Over.”

He’s on high alert, getting methodical and procedural to suppress the rage he feels as your voice garbles through his walkie talkie.

You look around in desperation, flashlight in hand as you try to find anything that’ll pinpoint your location.

Nothing.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you weigh your options. You can walk around until you find something useful or stay put and wait who knows how long for Joel or those band of heathens to get to you.

He urgently calls your name through the walkie talkie when you don’t respond in a timely manner and you quickly snap out of your thoughts.

“N-No. Nothing. I’m going to keep walking until I find something. Over.”

“No. You have to stay put. ‘S dangerous out here at night. I’ll come to you. Over.”

“It’s dangerous during the day, too. I’m going. I’ll reach out to you when I find something… over and out.”

You don’t give him a chance to respond as you turn your walkie off, the batteries were already running low earlier in the day so you have to limit your use on it before you’re left stranded and walkie talkie-less.

There were extra batteries in your backpack… fuck men and their ability to ruin everything.

You walk through the pitch black forest with your chin held high, faking bravery to avoid succumbing to the fear that’s rattling in your bones.

The mosquitos bite at you, insects chirping about, and in the distance you can hear a coyote howl.

If you don’t survive tonight because of men then you won’t survive because of mother nature.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, your exhaustion slowly catching up to you.

However, your ears perk at a low rumbling noise and your flashlight snaps in the direction in which you think you hear it coming from, your feet carrying you towards the source.

You damn near burst out in tears of joy once you see the large and beautiful waterfall that flows into the river below.

You radio Joel again, skipping the pleasantries and telling him your location.

You plop down on a bench that’s on the trail, overlooking the astounding scenery and finally you let out a sigh of actual relief. What a way to end your first official week as a park ranger.

About twenty minutes later you see his large silhouette booking it towards you, taking in your disheveled appearance once he’s close enough.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, sugar, what the hell happened to you?”

He envelops you in his arms and you finally allow yourself to let a few tears seep out of your eyes and they land on the fabric of his shirt.

His smell, his touch are comforting as all hell and you find yourself melting into his embrace.

You feel safe. Protected.

“Just assholes being assholes. I ditched them, though. Barely. I should’ve been smarter and ran—“

He shushes you as you begin to victim blame yourself, pulling you from his chest so he can get a better look at your figure, trying to see if you were physically hurt.

Thank god you weren’t.

“All that matters now s’that you’re safe and with me, alright? ‘M west of here. ‘Bout a twenty minute hike. Can you make it?”

You can’t help but snort, blushing as his concerned expression flashes with frustration.

You’ve hiked through the Appalachian mountains— you can definitely do a mere twenty minutes. But you understand that he’s just trying to gauge how shaken up you are and is genuinely concerned about you.

“Yeah, I can make it.”

He pulls you into his chest once more and you inhale deeply, taking in his natural musk and how deliciously it pairs with the faintness of his cologne.

“Alright— let’s go.”

His chest rumbles as he speaks and you don’t want to leave the confines of his strong hold but you must. You’re ready to get this day over with.

You spill the details of your hectic predicament on the hike back to the fire tower he is stationed at. You can feel the energy radiating from his broad figure, his anger palpable as you describe the four men who had ganged up on you.

His strong jaw clenches, fists balling at his sides but he remains silent until you’ve finished.

You can only imagine what’s going on through his head… you can’t help but find his irritation alluring.

“If I had to ballpark it, I’d say they were roughly ten minutes north from my station. I know exactly where that clearing is.”

“You’ll stay with me tonight ‘n tomorrow after mornin’ announcements we’ll get back to your neck of the woods ‘n I’ll deal with those assholes myself.”

Your teeth sink in to your lower lip, his statement holding so much conviction that it makes your clit throb.

Then it sinks in: you’re staying the night with him… and you’re all sweaty and gross from the long fucking day you’ve had.

This would have been a much more enticing, ripe, and overall erotic scenario had today’s event not transpired.

“Not trying to sound pampered or anything but do you mind if I shower?”

“How on earth does that make you pampered? ‘S a shower, darlin’, and after the day you had today you need one.”

“You saying that I stink?”

“If the shoe fits…”

You elbow him softly as you both chuckle, not even realizing that you’ve gravitated closer towards one another.

Unlike your station, the fire lookout tower is much bigger and it sits higher up on the mountain. Large windows run all around the structure giving whoever’s inside a full 360° view of this side of the forest.

It’s absolutely stunning. You can only imagine how it looks during the day.

You look out from your spot on the wraparound porch as he unlocks the door then beckons you inside.

Yeah, this place is much nicer than yours. Probably because fire lookout shifts are usually more long term than normal park ranger ones.

There’s a small bathroom— with a shower—- in the far corner, along with a bed and some other miscellaneous furnishings.

Maybe you can sell your old place and move up here. The view is much nicer, anyways.

You laugh to yourself, lost in your own inner monologue and Joel looks at you funny.

“You good?”

Embarrassed slightly, you just nod. “Yeah, just a long day.”

His warm eyes convey the message ‘I understand’ and you instinctively smile.

“Sooo about that shower…”

“Uh, yeah, help yourself. Everythin’ you need should be in there. We get hot water up here so that shouldn’t be an issue. Holler if you need anythin’. Imma try ‘n find you somethin’ to wear.”

You thank him softly, trying not to look too desperate for a hot shower as you cross the room and close the bathroom door behind you.

Letting the shower run, you begin to strip from your clothes, cringing at how grossly and sticky you feel from sweating your ass off all day.

You feel all the tension leaving your body as you step beneath the shower head and the hot droplets of water hit your skin.

You swear this is the best shower you’ve ever taken. Why? Because you peeped Joel’s toiletries in there and decided to use his body wash and shampoo so now you smell like him.

There’s three rhythmic knocks at the door followed by his deep voice.

“Found some clothes. Can I come in ‘n put ‘em by the sink?”

You swallow thickly. Despite there being a shower curtain separating the two of you, you feel nervous about him coming in while you’re naked.

Not because of him but because of you. He’s got you all riled up without even knowing it.

“Or I can leave ‘em out here?”

“It’s fine, Joel, you can come in.”

There’s a hesitant pause before you hear the door opening, then his large shadow passing through and setting the small pile of clothes by the sink.

His eyes fall to the floor where you’ve left your heap of dirty clothes, seeing the feminine printing of your pink underwear peeking from below the khaki material of the shorts you’d been wearing. The matching bra not too far away.

He’s fucked— unbelievably fucked.

Joel hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you first met. Your smile unlike anything he’s ever seen before, your eyes a shade that makes him want to get lost in them forever, your voice a tune he wants stuck in his head all the time.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and that’s quite the statement considering he’s surrounded by breathtaking sights all the time.

He’s crushing hard despite only barely knowing you for a week.

Then there’s that underlying, primal tension that simmers when you get too close. So it doesn’t help that’s he’s getting an eyeful of your discarded garments then is aware that you’re fully naked, smelling like him, on the other side of the shower curtain.

He stands in front of the shower, half tempted to just yank back the material and join you, fully clothed, just to fuck you against the wall.

No, he can’t think like this. Especially after the day you’ve had.

So he pushes those salacious thoughts away before leaving without saying a word.

You held your breath during the entirety of that silent and brief moment there.

You could feel his hesitation, really, and mentally yelled at him to give in to the temptation and have his way with you right here in the shower.

But he doesn’t hear you, obviously, and you begrudgingly finish your shower after he leaves.

You re-enter the main room dressed in an oversized national park tee and a pair of his boxers.

His cock stirs at the sight of you in his clothes and the smell of him on your skin. He has to look away before you catch him staring and label him as a creep.

“S’not much but I made you somethin’ to eat.” He’s at the kitchenette, all the fixings to make a grilled cheese strewn about the tiny area as he holds up a paper plate with your dinner on it.

Your stomach grumbles on cue, as if remembering that you haven’t eaten since lunch.

And just like that shower— the grilled cheese is the best grilled cheese you’ve ever eaten. Not because you were starving; but because Joel had made it for you out of the kindness of his heart.

Your standards are way too low if you think a man making you a grilled cheese sandwich is the most thoughtful thing in the world.

You two finish up quickly and begin getting situated for bed.

He’s being a gentlemen by giving up his bed to you while he takes refuge in his sleeping bag on the opposite side of the room.

You tried to fight him on it (to no avail) and now you’re both wide awake, laying in silence as the night passes by.

You toss and turn on the small bed, all of the sudden not exhausted like you had been on the walk up here. You can hear Joel shuffling around too and you let out a sigh.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice cuts through the darkness and you shake your head before remembering he can’t see you.

“No. I guess I’m still on go mode after everything.”

“Need anythin’ to help you sleep?”

Yeah, you. Just come over here and fuck me one good time—- I’ll sleep like a fucking rock.

You let out a small whine at the fantasy, your brain pulling cruel tricks on you as images of him tying the rope into a knot flash through your mind… they’re suddenly distorted and now he’s tying your wrists to the bedpost with the same adroitness from before.

“Y’okay sugar?”

Too lost in your wet daydream, you hadn’t realized your prolonged silence. Your thighs rub together, your slickness smearing over your folds.

“Just fine.”

Another pregnant pause before you hear him shuffling then his heavy footsteps nearing the bed.

You sit up straight once he’s near, the moonlight pouring in from the large windows cascading over half of his face and he’s got this look in his eyes that make you want to pounce on him.

“Y’sure there ain’t anythin’ I can do to make you feel better?”

His words drip with sensuality, a double entendre that knocks down the last wall of your self control.

“I can think of a thing or two.”

He stands tall over you, your eyes darkened with lust as you look up at him through your lashes.

It’s a ravishing sight, his fingers come down to brush some of your damp hair from your face and his thumb strokes affectionally against your cheek.

“Like what, baby?”

Oh, where do you start? A kiss, right? But you’re eye level with his hardening bulge and taking him down your throat has wetness pooling at your core.

But you really want to kiss him.

“Kiss me, Joel.”

And he does, bending himself over to hungrily smash his lips against yours.

You don’t hold back the whine at the feeling, your lips moving against each others in pure desperation as your tongue swirls around his before licking into his mouth.

You don’t know where this newfound confidence is coming from but you don’t do anything to deter from it.

You continue to make out, hot and heavy, as he crawls into the too small bed with you, pinning your body beneath his as he holds himself up with his strong forearms on either side of you.

Your hands eagerly run all over where you can reach. Squeezing his triceps, tracing down to his chest then digging your nails into his shoulders.

Joel grunts against your lips, breaking away so the two of you can catch your breath. His forehead falls against yours and you smile up at him.

“What you all smiley for?”

“Have you seen yourself? You’re something worth smiling over.”

He chases after your lips again and you’re back to making out like a pair of horny teenagers. Your fingers run along his warm skin beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, feeling how chiseled yet soft he is. You feel some of his chest hair and then you get curious so your hand falls lower until it’s at the band of his sleeping pants.

The hair there is coarser and you salivate at the thought of nuzzling your nose against the patch as you take him fully into your mouth.

Eager to feel his skin pressed up against yours, you tug at the hem of his shirt and he gets the hint, pulling back to discard of it quickly.

You inhale sharply at the sight of his bare torso, much more attractive than the mental image you’d been painting since you met.

“You are so hot.”

He exhales through his nose in a silent laugh before he descend on you again, except this time he doesn’t reconnect your lips.

His hands softly caress your body through his clothes, cupping your breasts and kneading them. This has you canting your head back and arching into his touch, moaning sweetly at how good it feels

“S’all you, gorgeous. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

This has you moaning louder as his fingers pinch your pebbled nipples and you begin rocking your hips against nothing just to relieve some of the pressure that’s built up against your core.

“Joel, please…” You whimper out, wanting him to rip these clothes off you and devour you entirely.

He knows what you want and what kind of man would he be to deny such a pretty little thing of feeling good?

He quickly undresses you and you’re so lost in the moment that you aren’t even plagued with self consciousness.

Every touch, every stroke and caress has you feeling flawless as he begins to kiss at your neck, his pouty lips sucking a small mark beneath your jaw and you hiss his name out of excitement.

His lips continue their assault against your neck before trailing down to your chest and between your breasts.

His large, calloused hand runs up and down your sides before he hooks his fingers under the band of his boxers that you’re currently still in, slowly pulling the fabric down.

“Ya sure about this? We can stop if you want to.”

“If you stop right now I might just kill you.”

He smirks against your chest, letting his curved nose run along the swell of your breast before his tongue darts out to kitten lick at your sensitive nipple.

You shudder and then he’s taking the nub into his mouth, sucking on it before letting his tongue flicker over it repeatedly.

“Oh fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

With your lower half now fully exposed, he massages your thighs and you spread them wider to allow him to rest against you comfortably.

He continues to give your tits attention but now he’s paired it with the sensation of him running his thumb against your obscenely wet slit.

Your hips buck up involuntarily at his touch and he pulls back from your chest to look up at you.

“Be patient, sugar, I promise imma make you feel good.” He husks out, just as turned on as you are, as he turns his head towards your other breast to begin lavishing it in the same attention he’d just given its twin.

His thumb dips between your puffy folds, gathering your arousal before he’s swirling it around your needy clit.

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering close as you allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure of this foreplay. You’ve never been with a man who was this attuned to your body; touching you in all the right places and having you make sounds you’ve never made before.

Your nipple falls from his mouth with a soft and wet pop as his lips trail down your abdomen, kissing the smooth skin along the way.

He reaches your mound, those chocolate brown eyes of his staring up at you as his hands find purchase on the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider for him so his broad frame can fit in between them.

“You’re s’wet, darlin’. Bet you taste fuckin’ sweet too.”

Your fingers reach down to run through his hair, lust blooming in your stare.

“Why don’t you find out?”

He groans, lowering his head until you can feel his warm breath against your throbbing cunt. With your fingers still intertwined in his hair, you tug him closer to you— dying to feel his touch where you need him most.

Usually, Joel would drag this out more. Tease you until you’re a puddled mess and begging for him to take you however he pleased.

But he’s drunk on you. His mind clouded with nothing but the vision of your naked body sprawled before him and your sheer eagerness to use him to get off.

It’s hot and exhilarating— which is why he wastes no time in attaching his mouth to your pussy, groaning as your arousal floods his mouth.

“Oh my god!” Your back arches off the bed, grip on his curls tight as he begins to eat you out like a starved and barbaric man.

His tongue flicks across your clit one, two times before exploring the rest of your cunt. The wet noises coming from his ministrations echo through the room and they only spur you further into your orgasm.

“So fuckin’ sweet, baby. I could die a happy man right in between these beautiful legs.”

Joel kisses and nips at your inner thighs before diving back in. His tongue flattens against your cunt as he takes long, broad swipes before his lips wrap around your sensitive nub and he sucks on it. Harshly.

A scream of pleasure rips from your throat at the action, hips moving against his face as his nose bumps against your clit when his tongue moves down to plunge into your tight hole.

He licks the inside of you, allowing you to rock your hips as your stomach tightens with your climax not too far away.

Sensing this, Joel brings two of his thick fingers up to your core, lubing them up with your wetness before he slides them in. The slight burn from the stretch is enough to have you seeing fucking stars.

“Just like that Joel please don’t stop.”

You don’t care if you sound needy or desperate— the whole reason you’re here in California is to experience something new and to forget about how shitty your romantic life has been in the past.

Joel’s doing an amazing job making you forget, his rough fingers pumping in and out of you as his mouth kisses your pussy.

“C’mon baby. I can feel how fuckin’ close ya are, sugar. Let go.”

His fingers curl inside you, brushing up against that spot that has you cursing out a litany of expletives as you clench around him tightly and cum harder than you ever have in your entire life.

Your fingernails dig into his scalp, grounding you as your orgasm quite literally has your soul leaving your body.

Your release coats his digits, mouth, and jaw as he eats you out through it. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to catch your breath, twitching at the oversensitivity between your thighs.

“Did so good, baby. Look so fuckin’ pretty comin’ undone like that.” He mutters against your ear, once again hovering over you before your mouths meet in a passionate kiss.

You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and it’s enough to spark another flame of arousal in your lower belly. Your legs wrap around his waist as his painfully hard erection presses up against your freshly fucked cunt.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel, please.” Your nose brushes up against his, giving him your best fuck me eyes in which he has no choice but to comply.

He shimmies out of his sweat pants, his swollen cock bouncing slightly as it’s exposed and your eyes widen as you look down to see just how fucking big he is.

Oh fuck, is it even going to fit?

“You okay, babygirl?”

You nod, eagerly. “Better than okay. I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.”

Your hand comes down to stroke him a few times, loving the way he groans out your name before swatting your hand away.

“Fuck— wait. I don’t have a condom.” He mutters and you quickly pull him down to you before he shifts away from between your legs.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill and haven’t been with anyone in months.”

You have no problem with him going in raw, you actually prefer it since you want to feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he pounds into you.

However; if he’s been giving it out to the masses then maybe you should reconsider letting him fuck you… but he doesn’t seem like the type to whore out like that and you pray that’s the case.

“Me either. ‘M clean ‘n I don’t get much action out here.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He laughs, actually laughs in your face and you can’t help but find this moment endearing.

“M’gonna have to instill some patience into ya, sweetheart. You’re a needy little thing.”

There’s a snarky reply on the tip of your tongue but it dies there as he sinks into you, the bulbous head of his cock stretching you out deliciously as your fleshy walls flutter around him.

“Fuck,” You both groan out in unison, relishing in how good it feels to be lost in each other like this.

He hasn’t bottomed out yet and you already feel so full.

“So big, Joel.” You purr out, feeling him twitch inside of you at the praise.

He rocks his hips into yours, finally burying himself fully inside of your cunt and you whimper at the feeling.

He stills, letting you adjust to his ginormous fucking cock, whispering sweet words into your ear as he peppers soft kisses against your neck and shoulder.

“You can move now. Please.” You roll your hips, crying out like a pornstar when the head just barely brushes against your cervix.

“Oh sugar you’re gonna have to keep those noises to yourself if you want to enjoy this for longer than two strokes.”

It makes you giddy knowing you have such an effect on him.

“Can’t help but express how good it feels.”

His hips cant back, cock sliding through your wet walls as he begins to thrust back into you. His movements start slow and patient, but once there’s enough of yours wetness coating the both of you; he readjusts you on the small bed and begins to set a ruthless pace.

“Yesyesyes, oh my god just like that!”

He sits back on his haunches, meaty hands gripping onto your hips for dear life as he fucks you harshly, the rusted springs of the bed crying out at the harsh movements.

“Play with your tits, baby, show me how much you like bein’ fucked like this.”

Not needing to be told twice, your hands come down to do as instructed; twisting and pulling at your nipples which heightens your arousal even more.

They bounce against your hold as he screws you with all the passion in the world. You’re hoping his rough touch against your hips leaves bruises. It’d be a lovely memory of this moment and how it’s not just a dream you’re having.

The sound of skin slapping against skin mingled with your respective sighs and moans of pleasure swirl around in the air, both of your bodies glistening with sweat from your coital activities.

He looks so sexy over you like this, the curls at the base of his neck sticking to his skin with sweat, eyes focused on your folds as your pussy stretches each time he fucks into you, tongue just barely peeking out between his lips in concentration.

You want to feel his lips on you as you cum for the second time tonight, so you reach for him and whine out his name and he happily complies, leaning over and crashing his lips onto yours.

Your tongues intertwine and you nibble on his lower lip as his hands move your legs to rest over his shoulders.

The change of angle is enough to topple you over the edge, and you cum with an aggressive shout of his name followed by your nails raking down the taut skin of his back.

His thrusts don’t relent as he continues to fuck you, and you’re too disoriented and caught up in pure bliss to do anything about it.

“Mmm baby cum inside me. I want you to fill me up and paint my walls with your cum, Joel, pretty please.”

You use that tone again, the porny one that had him almost coming prematurely. You pair it with a tight squeeze of your walls and that does it.

His thrusts stutter and he grunts huskily against your neck as he fills you up with his spend. You play with his hair as he comes down from his own climax, placing kisses against the crown of his head.

You both lay in a comfortable silence, him still buried inside of you while he holds himself up on his forearms.

“That was amazing.” You’re the first one to breach the quiet, “But I’m gonna need you to let my legs down. I don’t want to cramp folded up like a lawn chair like this.”

He chuckles against your sweaty skin, placing a kiss to your jaw before he pulls back and tentatively moves your legs off of his broad shoulders.

Joel pulls his cock out of you and you shudder at the loss, feeling his cum slowly dripping out and down your slit.

“Such a pretty sight.” He mumbles, bringing his fingers down to collect some of your mixed release before pumping it back inside of you.

You whine in protest, “Joel she’s sensitive. She just took one hell of a pounding.”

Though you clench around his fingers, your body contradicts your words.

“S’okay, sugar, I’ll take good care of her.”

And he does, god does he take good care of her and you for the remainder of the night.

#joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #the last of us fic #joel miller #tlou fic #kat's writing.

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lipglossanon · 1 year

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Magic Man

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

boyfriend’s dad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)

ao3 request from do; I hope you like it! And thank you for your patience! 😭 💜

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cheating, dirty talk, grinding, kissing, slight noncon (but reader’s into it, just pretending to be reluctant), nipple teasing, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread ✌️

title from Magic Man by Heart (seemed fitting haha)

PSA: I definitely don’t condone cheating; find it vile to be quite frank. In this case reader is breaking up with the guy just hasn’t talked to him yet when stuff happens (not saying it’s right but she’s not going to stay in the relationship at the least)

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Since an extended holiday weekend’s on the way, your boyfriend invited you to stay with him at his dad’s place.

“He’s been bugging me to visit for ages and I thought it’d be fun for you to meet him,” he tells you over the phone.

Frowning at your history book, you tap your pen against it, “You sure this isn’t too fast? Or weird? I mean we’ve only been dating for a month.”

He laughs flippantly, making you frown harder even though he can’t see it.

“It’ll be fine,” you hear a muffled voice from his end, “Jeremy’s here with pizza, gotta go. We’ll talk more later!”

The line beeps letting you know he hung up before you could even say goodbye. Opening up your calendar app, you mark off this weekend. At the very least, it would be nice to leave campus for a bit. Although you have a good feeling this’ll probably be the last time you’ll spend any quality time with Keith.

He’s a nice enough guy, but still acts really immature and you’re not really interested in that especially when you’re only dating casually.

The weekend rushes up on you and before you can say bon voyage, Keith picks you up and drives you the couple of hours upstate to his dad’s house. It’s a nice neighborhood and his dad has a lovely home.

You know it’s lovely since Keith basically ditched you here to go hang out with some old high school buddies for the evening.

“Promise I’ll be home tomorrow and I’ll show ya around!” he kisses your cheek as he heads out the door, “my dad will be home shortly so you can get to know each other.”

You give him a tight smile as he shuts the door, muffled laughter and talking dissipating as he gets into his friend’s car.

You flop down on the couch and scroll through your phone, certain now that you’re dumping Keith as soon as you guys get back to campus.

Later, the doorknob jiggles and you raise up to look over the couch into the entryway. All of the spit in your mouth dries up when you actually see Keith’s dad for the first time. He’s built, big biceps and thick forearms, not to mention his chest and shoulders and thighs and—

You pull yourself away from ogling your boyfriend’s dad, even if said boyfriend’s a complete ass.

“Hi, you must be the infamous girlfriend I’ve heard so much about,” he walks further into the house after kicking off his shoes, “the name’s Leon.”

“Hi,” you clear your dry throat, “yep, that’d be me.”

You give him an awkward little wave as his gaze roves around the living room before settling on you, a more serious look on his handsome face.

“Where’s Keith?”

“Ah,” you give him a bashful grin, “he wanted to hang out with some buddies so he—“

“Ditched you?” His blue eyes narrow as he drums his fingers against his leg, “just a second, sweetheart.”

He steps back outside and you feel your heartbeat amp up from the nickname. Straining your ears, you can sort of hear Leon’s low voice but not what’s actually being said. After a few minutes, he comes back inside looking irritated.

He walks over to the couch and rubs the back of his neck, “I’d like to apologize for my son’s shitty behavior. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to convince him to come back and actually spend time with the pretty girl he decided to bring home.”

Your fingers tingle as shyness steals over your demeanor, “Not your fault. Thanks though, I appreciate it.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose letting you steal this moment to take in his chiseled jaw and spot a few freckles on his neck that you’d love to kiss.

“Well, I can order takeout and we can watch something,” he offers with a half smile, “not the company you probably planned for.”

You smile at him, “That sounds really nice, Mr. Kennedy.”

“Oh uh,” a small pink blush fans put across his cheeks, “please just call me Leon.”

The afternoon passes pretty lazily between Chinese takeout and some cheesy action movies. Leon’s a lot of fun; way more interesting than Keith, but you try not to dwell on the fact you’re starting to crush on his dad.

Leon eventually offers you something a little stronger to drink which you gladly take him up on the offer. He must carry some high shelf liquor cause you feel the effects pretty quickly with a nice little buzz. At least, it’s the excuse you give when you slide into Leon’s lap and grind your wet cunt against his thigh as you kiss his neck.

“Baby, what about Keith?”

He doesn’t move you away but holds your hips still on top of him.

“Gonna break up with him,” you murmur, “he’s a shitty boyfriend. No offense.”

“None taken,” he laughs, kissing you softly, letting you lick into his mouth.

From there it’s a sloppy makeout session on his couch as you dry hump his thigh. He picks you up to let you straddle his chubbed cock, rocking your hips back and forth until you find the rhythm he likes.

His phone rings and although he ignores it at first, with the constant noise he pulls away to check the caller ID.

“It’s—I’ve gotta take this, honey,” he pats your hip and helps you move off of him.

Embarrassment floods your body as you see how wet his pants are from your dirty grinding.

“I’m so sorry,” you shakily stand up, “I’ll—it won’t happen again.”

“Wha—“

“I’m going to get out of your hair,” you give him a wobbly smile, “it’s slutty of me to not at least breakup with Keith first. It’s pretty fucked up actually.”

Reality’s a cold shower wiping out your arousal in a flash.

“Goodnight, Mr. Kennedy.”

You disappear up the stairs toward the guest bedroom Keith pointed out earlier; you definitely weren’t going to share his room with him now since you practically fucked his dad on the couch. Grabbing your luggage from Keith’s room, you beeline it for the guest room.

You change out of your clothes feeling horny and gross. As much as you don’t like Keith, you feel a little bad to just do something so scandalous.

You hear two pairs of footsteps out in the hall making you pause as you shut the light off.

“Fuck off, dad, what does it matter if I got a little drunk,” Keith slurs, “I wasn’t driving!”

“You’re irresponsible is what,” Leon’s deep tone makes your thighs press together, “you even left your girlfriend here alone for god’s sake!”

“She’s fine,” he scoffs, making you roll your eyes, “‘sides where is she?”

“In the guest room,” Leon states bluntly, “I heard her go in there a little bit ago.”

You hold your breath as you hear Keith stumble closer to your door.

“Go to your room,” Leon’s sharp tone stalls Keith’s footsteps and you listen as he stumbles back over to his room.

“You’re a fucking buzzkill, y’know that?” Keith mutters as he shuts his door hard.

“What a fucking brat,” you hear Leon mumble to himself.

Your heartbeat picks up when he pauses outside your door but then smooths out as he walks off down the hallway.

“Wow,” you whisper to yourself, turning off the light and climbing into bed.

You toss and turn for what seems forever until you settle on your side. Cunt still thrumming with arousal, you slowly slide your hand into your panties, teasing your fingers across your swollen clit.

Losing yourself to the sweet pleasure drifting through your body, you miss the door opening until a warm, bulky body slides in behind you.

“Want some help?”

Before you answer, a hand slips down your body to cover the one you have in your panties.

“Gotta keep quiet.”

You press your lips together tightly as Leon spoons you from behind. He puts his hands inside your panties to push yours away and slowly touches your clit. You’re laying on one arm so with the one he shoved away you try to grab his wrist to stop him but he pinches your clit roughly.

“So wet,” he whispers hotly in your ear. “What were you thinking about, huh?”

“Nothing,” you whisper back, “now s-stop and get out please.”

“Nah you like it too much,” he gloats letting his fingers circle your wet clit over and over.

You can’t really argue with him as you find yourself pressing your hips into his hand. Your hand is still gripping his wrist only now it’s to hold his arm while his fingers tease across your cunt. You honestly don’t mind picking up where you left off, even though it feels dirty.

“Mmm so fucking sexy, y’like your own boyfriend’s dad playing with your pussy, huh,” he mocks.

“N-no s’wrong, L-Leon,” you hiss, eyes clenching shut as he pinches your clit again.

“Didn’t seem to think so earlier when you were grinding that wet pussy on me.”

Slick gushes from your cunt, feeling hot embarrassment and arousal from the truth of his words. You feel his dick press against your ass as he rolls his hips to grind against you.

Leon groans into your neck, hot breath fanning across your skin causing goosebumps.

“Roll over and show me your tits you little tease,” he rasps in your ear.

You ignore him and try to shove his arm away, but he grabs your hip and forces you to your back. He slides an arm underneath you then throws a leg over your hips to keep you from moving or pushing him away. His hand goes back down and dips underneath your panties to play with your clit.

“C’mon, sweetheart, show me your tits already.”

As much as you try to fight it, arousal is flooding your body. And it’s not like you aren’t interested in him. You feel more slick leak into your panties to coat Leon’s fingers.

Your arms and legs are limited in their movement, but you’re able to do as he says. Feeling hot, you pull up your top to expose your breasts and hard nipples to his dark gaze.

“There we go,” he groans, “look at those sweet fucking nipples.”

He grinds his dick into your thigh as his fingers rub across your swollen clit.

“Really wanna taste’em,” he murmurs in your ear, “just suck on those pretty nipples til you’re creaming my fingers.”

You moan and arch your back, pressing your heels down into the bed.

“C’mon, I’ll treat you right if you just let me,” he stops teasing your cunt and drags wet fingers up to flick your hard nipples.

You’re panting now, hips writhing from the stimulation.

“Let me suck’em baby.”

You bite your lip, brows furrowed with worry.

“If you keep me waiting, I’m not gonna be nice,” he bites at your shoulder, blunt teeth scraping your skin.

“O-okay,” you agree, feeling a sick thrill at the low groan Leon lets out.

He moves his leg and helps twist your body towards him so you’re facing each other. Ducking his head, he drags his mouth across the swell of your breasts.

“Hang on a sec,” he mutters into your chest.

Leon’s hand moves to his boxers and pushes the band down until his cock’s free. He grabs your panties and pulls them down until he can slip his dick inside. You gasp at the feel of his hot cock rubbing all along your pussy, slipping in between your wet folds to drag against your clit and leaky hole.

“There we go,” he grins at you, “try not to let me slip inside that wet little cunt. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

Wide eyed, you shake your head no even if the thought of your boyfriend’s dad plowing you in this bed is driving you a little crazy. His eyes never leave yours when his mouth dips down to suck on your sensitive nipples. As you feel the hot wet suction, your eyes slip close with a whine.

You grind yourself down on Leon’s cock, dripping slick all over him. You feel him moan into your breasts as he slowly drags his dick back and forth inside your panties. The head of his dick leaks precum making your panties even stickier.

Your hands drag through Leon’s soft hair, nails scratching at his scalp, as you sigh and mewl from his mouth suckling at your sensitive buds.

“G-good, so good,” you arch your back, pressing more of your breasts into his face.

The next time he catches your gaze you can see his pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes and a pink blush spread across the bridge of his nose. Leon bites and sucks a hickie under the curve of your breast, teeth digging into the soft skin.

You gasp at the dull ache, hands tightening in his hair to pull him away.

“Don’t be like that,” his voice is low and raspy, tongue lapping at the bruise he left, “you were just gonna leave me with blue balls earlier, weren’t you honey? So mean to tease me with that wet drippy cunt.”

You whine and arch up into him more, “We really shouldn’t do this.”

“Why?” his grin is wicked as he kisses across your breasts, “don’t want my son knowing your little pussy’s aching for my cock?”

You gasp sharply as he roughly sucks on your nipples, swapping back and forth until they’re puffy and sore. As he works his teeth and tongue on your hard buds, he slips your panties off leaving your lower half completely naked.

He grinds his cock up against your slick hole making you part your legs further.

“Want it, sweetheart?” he moves up to whisper in your ear as he rubs the tip of his dick against your clit, “want my fat cock splitting you open? Show you how a real man fucks a gorgeous girl like you.”

His words make your brain feel like mush, nodding up at him before you can think twice.

“Please, Mr. Kennedy, want you to fuck me,” you whimper, nails digging into his shirt.

He groans and eases the head into your slick cunt, “Just call me Leon, baby. Y’r gonna make me cum too soon calling me mister.”

Your body goes hot all over as he rocks his hips against yours, fucking himself deeper into your clenching heat.

Wanting to tease, you pout up at him, “Sorry Mr. Kennedy— I mean Leon.”

Growling, he thrusts hard and buries himself balls deep inside your pussy, making you squeal.

His palm covers your mouth, “Wanna get us caught? Want him walking in to see his dad fucking his girlfriend’s tight little cunt?”

You clamp down on his dick hard and he clicks his tongue.

“What a slut,” he murmurs, making you buck your hips up.

He keeps your mouth covered as he slowly fucks your cunt, really drawing your attention to how split open your pussy feels. You constantly whine and moan as his dick bullies into your fluttering walls again and again.

“You’re so fucking tight, honey,” he grunts, “never had a cock this big stuffing this slutty pussy?”

You shake your head no as best you can and he chuckles.

“S’okay, you got one now.”

He moves his hand away to drop his mouth down onto yours. Trading sloppy, wet kisses between your moans, his fat dick ruts into your squelching pussy, dragging all along the spongy spot of your cunt that makes you clench down on him.

Your mind goes fuzzy, completely oblivious to everything but the orgasm slowly coiling in your belly.

“Cockdrunk already?” He laughs, “nothing but a sweet little hole to dump my load into, right pretty girl?”

You shiver and cling harder to him, “Yes, please, want you t’cum in me.”

“Mmm don’t worry, your hot little cunt’s getting creamed,” he kisses you messily, hips snapping harder against you.

Leon fucks you quick and deep now, plunging his cock into your sopping wet hole making him have to cover your mouth again for being too loud. His other hand moves between your bodies to flick and rub your sensitive clit. Your head thrashes back and forth, tears running down your temples as he drives you closer and closer to climaxing.

“That’s it, sweet girl, let that little pussy squeeze down on me, bet it feels so good,” he goads you, fingers rubbing over your pudgy clit until your back bows off the bed.

You cry out behind his sweaty palm, eyes fluttering shut as the coil in your belly snaps, orgasm hitting you. Legs clamping around his waist, your cunt clenches down on his cock like a vice, milking him as slick gushes around his throbbing length.

“Oh so good, such a good girl for me,” he pants, hands grabbing your thighs to press you open more, “gonna fucking cum in you baby, watch it spill out of your tight hole.”

You whine pitifully as he rails his dick into your sensitive pussy until, with a low groan, he thrusts deeply and spills, hot and sticky, all in your pulsing walls. He sighs as he rocks against you, stuffing your cunt with jizz until it leaks out around his cock.

Pulling out with another sigh, he looks down at you with a sly grin.

“Nice that we’ll be spending the weekend together, huh sweetheart.”

#lipglossanon #Ao3 request #lipglossmasterlist #one shot #boyfriend’s dad!leon s kennedy #boyfriend’s dad!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #boyfriend’s dad!leon s kennedy smut #boyfriend’s dad!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #boyfriend’s dad #fem!reader #leon s kennedy smut #cheating

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missvelvetsstuff · 3 months

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As per usual, I'm a bit stuck on my current story, No Benefits(don't worry, I'm working on it but progress is slow.) And this idea popped into my head. Well, the truth is I rewatched the Newsroom and it gave me an idea. If you've seen the show you might see the similarities but it's not identical.

If you haven't seen the show, you really should.

Here's a draft of the prologue, LMK what you think and if you want more.

The Situation Room

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After a mission almost gone wrong, Tony brings back Bucky's former assistant, who is also Bucky's ex. Can they work together without hurting each other? Will the whole truth about their break up finally come out?

Avengers AU where Thanos never happened.

Prologue

Warnings: Swearing, angst, cannabis usage

Buckys motorcycle roared up the driveway of the Avengers compound, returning from a two week vacation after a mission fiasco. Tony had sent him to his house on Loon Lake, upstate. It was bigger and fancier than Bucky ever needed but secluded, quiet and on the water. Very relaxing. Pretty girls at the bar down the road helped pass the time.

He felt himself tensing as he parked and turned his bike off. Flashes of the drama went through his mind and he shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

His goddamn assistant had risked the mission when she didn't make sure he was fully equipped. She was cute and not bad in the sack but had only lasted a few weeks before forgetting his favorite knife and guns, causing him to be unarmed and unable to protect the civilians he was trying to rush from the building. Thankfully Sam had been close by and able to get them to safety.

Bucky was lucky no one was killed. Well, no innocents were killed but a couple were seriously hurt, including a young girl, maybe 10 years old. He was shot as well but that was healed before he had headed upstate.

The press had a field day and the anti Avengers crowd went nuts. It didn't help that he lost his temper at a reporter who pushed a camera into his face, which he grabbed with his vibranium hand and crushed before returning it to the reporter with a big grin.

Bucky strode into the building, nodding at security as he passed, and went straight for his room to drop his backpack. Then he headed to the common room, just in time for dinner. Most of the team was there and Tony reminded him they needed to meet about the assistant situation.

Obviously his old assistant had been fired but a new one would need to be hired and Bucky hated that whole process. Tony expected him to at least sit in on the interviews since the first three he had were only interviewed by Pepper and washed out within the first week.

After he ate Bucky cleared his plate, confirmed he would meet up with Tony first thing in the morning, and went to bed.

His sleep was interrupted by nightmares of that mission, they had eased while he was gone but were back now that he was home. In his dreams, he failed and innocent people died, he watched that young girl bleed out in his arms before he woke up yelling.

Bucky was up at 5am, worked out, showered, ate and headed to Tony's office. When he arrived Tony's secretary waved him into the office.

Bucky sat across from Tony and waited for him to finish his phone call "Perfect, I really appreciate your help on this. I'll see you in a few minutes?" He paused, listening "No, that's no problem, I'll keep him here."

Tony hung up the call and looked at Bucky with a big grin on his face. "I believe I have solved your assistant problem. I found the perfect person and she'll be here any minute."

Bucky nodded "Great, so I can go now, right." Standing up from his seat, Bucky turned around and saw her. He did a double take, then glared at Tony

"NO! Hell no. No fucking way, this isn't happening Stark. I'm not working with her! Not after what happened. What she did."

Y/N smirked and winked at him while her gut wrenched at the hate in his eyes, she wouldn't let him see her pain. "Nice seeing you again too, Barnes."

Tony shook his head "Sorry pal, you don't get a vote in this. You've gone through 13 assistants in 6 months, not to mention the dozens in the 2 years before that. Y/N was the last one who knew what she was doing. The rest just wanted to get in your bed."

Y/N chuckled "That won't be a problem with me. I wouldn't have even come but I could use a break. Madripoor has been worse than usual since the Power Broker showed up"

Bucky flinched at the mention of Sharon Carter but pushed it aside then smirked "Well we agree on that, you're not getting anywhere near my bed." He looked at Tony "Can I go now?"

Tony nodded. Once Bucky was gone Tony hugged Y/N "Sorry about that but you know how he is better than anyone."

She shrugged sadly "It's fine. I mean he could have gone violent. I'm gonna go get my room unpacked. I'll see you at the team meeting tomorrow morning."

Bucky stalked to his room where he paced angrily for a few minutes before yelling into a pillow then changing and heading to the gym to work it out.

He started on a punching bag and his mind wandered. Why did Tony have to bring her back? There had to be other people out there that could do the job, the rest of the team all had long time assistants and didn't go through all the drama he seemed to. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door opening.

Steve walked up to him at the same time he broke the punching bag which slid across the room and threw sand everywhere. "You alright there punk?"

Bucky glared at him "Do you know what Tony has done? Did you know?"

Steve sighed "Tony told me this morning. Said he didn't want me tipping you off. I know you're not happy about it but she was the last competent assistant you had. Your mission gear, appointments and paperwork were under control so no goofs like with every assistant you've had since, you know." He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, not wanting to open any old wounds.

Bucky scoffed "How am I supposed to deal with her every fucking day. After everything that happened. I don't know if I can do this without losing it."

Steve nodded "I know but maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe you two can talk and find some kind of closure, even be friends again."

Bucky snorted "Thor been visiting with his fancy liquor? You can't possibly say that and be sober. How can I be friends after she-" he couldn't say it.

"I know jerk but just give it a shot. If it's awful then we'll make changes but at least you'll have tried."

Bucky sighed "I was gonna marry her."

Y/N went to her bedroom, Tony was kind enough to find her a place far from Bucky's quarters, where she had practically lived before everything blew up. She sighed and looked at the boxes stacked up next to the sofa, in her little seating area, before falling into the sofa.

Being in Bucky's presence for just moments was exhausting, forcing her to wade through all the heartache from two years ago. For a long moment she questioned her ability to deal with seeing him again, every day and still so pissed at her. Obviously he still hadn't learned the truth about that day but she wasn't going to try to tell him. She already did that, tried to get to him before anyone else could spin what happened but she was too late and what she found when she tried to go home had blown her life up. She had no reason to expect him to be open to hearing anything from her.

She shook her head to clear the negative thoughts. Bucky might hate her but he needed her, even if he would never admit it. Once his life was back in order and his reputation polished she would disappear back to Madripoor.

When she was done unpacking and organizing her room, Y/N grabbed a sandwich and iced tea from the cooler on the coffee table and sat back to enjoy her dinner. As she cleaned up, she ate a special brownie hoping it would help her sleep but knowing that it wouldn't be enough to stop the nightmares.

Tomorrows meeting would be interesting.

Chapter 1

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #angst with a happy ending #james bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #Situation Room

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mikedfaist · 3 months

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Actually dying for more riff stuff !! Like I can’t stop thinking about rich reader! falling in love with such a scumbag that, at the start, you have to keep it from your family because you know they would hate him. And maybe he doesn’t argue about keeping the whole thing a secret, maybe he gets a little possessive and doesn’t want such a pretty little diamond like you get filthy from his lifestyle and the guys. And maybeeeee once it’s all out in the open crazy chaos ensues, your family refuse to accept him and the boys are deeply hesitant about you too, but riff doesn’t care, riff would go to war for you and vice versa.

Actually in pain.

You are his diamond. You truly are the most incredible, perfect, ravishing person he’s ever had the pleasure of sharing the same breath with. He doesn’t want to tarnish you. Fuck, he truly can’t find a conceivable reason as to why you love him. He knows he can’t offer much. Why you chose him over everyone else will remain a perishing mystery, and he promises, until his own dying breath, he will go to war for you.

She always makes sure he has food in his fridge, clean clothes, and a roof over his head. He always makes sure no punks are sniffing the streets in her direction. He always walks her home after work, though most times he’s a safe distance away to steer away any prowling eyes. She will always write him notes and drop them on the sidewalk, and he keeps every one of her notes in a tin can under his bed.

Meet me on the rooftop tonight. x

I love you, baby. x

Let’s run away. x

He would drop anything for her. He’s truly devoted, and the boys know something is up when he fails to show up to the park some mornings, or his own apartment. They are the first to discover the two of them. You seldom come around his apartment, because the boys come and go as they please, but Riff was certain they would all be at the docks that afternoon, and he wanted time alone with you.

But it was Ice and Action who showed up to get some beers, and they found the two of you nearly undressed on his sofa. It’s a sight you can’t really come back from. I think the boys feel some betrayal, because doesn’t Riff tell them everything? He would never keep something from them. They begin to doubt Riff’s loyalty, and his placement within the group, because is he really bailing on plans to hang with a girl?

“You think—she’s not just some—“ He’s seeing red. How fucking dare them ball you up into some insipid category. You aren’t just some girl. Shame on them for looking at you and even thinking such a thing.

He’s starting to regret not fulfilling your wishes on running away together. Stealing a bunch of your parents money and buying a house upstate, changing your names, and having three kids. It’s not too late for that. Once your parents find out, they’d kick you out. They don’t want you around scum like him. They’d have you settle for a kind lad at the prep school. The same boys born with a silver spoon so far up their asses that it’s fossilized. But those boys wouldn’t protect you like Riff does.

“Please,” he tells the boys, his shirt still hanging over the backside of his sofa. “I love her. I can’t lose this.”

#had to stop because i am so tired #riff x reader #riff imagine #riff west side story #riff talk

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slyandthefamilybook · 4 months

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Noah's Spring Jewish Book Review

this isn't gonna become a regular thing, don't worry. I just need to gush some about these books. I'm gonna keep the reviews short too because who's got that kind of time!

So far I've read 4 Jewish novels this spring and I'm working on a fifth. We'll go in chronological order

1. Thistlefoot by GennaRose Nethercott

~ Two estranged siblings, Isaac and Bellatine Yaga—the grandchildren of the famous Baba Yaga—inherit their ancestor's chicken-footed house. They travel the country putting on puppet shows and exploring their own mysterious abilities, all the while trying to escape from a threatening figure known only as the Longshadow Man, as well as their own pasts. History relives itself in a book filled with magic and mystery ~

This book was so damn good. Every other sentence is tattoo-worthy and hits you like a sack of bricks. The characters feel so real and raw while also managing to fill out their respective roles with a sense of poetry. The book has a supporting cast of memorable characters and a sense of real danger throughout. Every so often the house will interject in a way that reminds me so much of my bubbe (עליה השלום). I've read reviews that said it dragged on a bit in the second act but I was enraptured the entire way through. It's also pretty gay, which I always appreciate. 10/10

2. When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb

~ An angle and a demon—best friends for 200 years—set out from their tiny Pale shtetl to America in search of a girl who hasn't been heard from. They're accompanied by Rosie, a spunky and fire-spirited girl from their shtetl desperate to get away and have an adventure in the far-off West ~

No book has made me feel quite so seen as this one. As someone who grew up Orthodox there's virtually no representation for people like me. The majority of Orthodox characters in media are trying to get away. None of them love it quite so much as I do, as much as the characters in this book do. From Little Ash tucking his peyot behind his ears like my older brothers used to to the angel waking up to daven shacharit. Sacha Lamb takes the brave stance of "what if Jewish theology is real, actually" and it shines on every page. The writing effortlessly intertwines spirituality and reverence with a classic Yiddish folktale. It's also pretty gay. 10/10

3. From Dust, a Flame by Rebecca Podos

Hannah, the descendant of the famed Rabbi Yehuda Loew, wakes up one morning to find herself transformed, her eyes turning to yellow slits. Her mother seems to blame herself without explaining why, and soon after disappears. After receiving a mysterious letter, Hannah and her adopted brother Gabe travel to upstate New York to meet their mother's family, to learn the secrets of her past, and of their own lineage ~

I'll start off by saying I'm not sure if I was the target audience for this book. It was good, don't get me wrong, but the writing wasn't to my taste. It was a little... blatant, where I prefer prose to be a bit more subtle. Again, nothing wrong with it, just not my particular thing. I definitely relate to Hannah and Gabe a lot, each in their own way. A lot of the book felt very comforting and familiar to me. The book is equal parts supernatural action and intriguing mystery, and keeps you engrossed til the end. It's also Extremely Gay 7/10

4. The Way Out by Gavriel Savit

~ Yehuda Leib and Bluma set out from their tiny Pale shtetl, each on a mission of the utmost importance. Yehuda Leib is looking for his lost father, and Bluma is running from Death. Navigating the Far Country full of demons, goblins, and angels, the pair fight their way through history and mystery alike, and prepare to make war on Death himself ~

This book. Oh boy this book. Where do I start? This book made me cry several times, which hasn't happened in over 15 years. This book said everything about death I've been feeling since my bubbe passed away (עליה השלום). This book genuinely made me re-think how I view G-d? All that and more in less than 400 pages. This book harmonized with my soul. This book changed who I am as a person. This book made me crumble to dust and then built me back up from scratch. 10/10

#atlas entry #jew #jewish #judaism #jumblr #book review

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wandasbiatch · 1 year

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the way i’m on my lucaya sh*t right now 😭 i’m watching edits on tiktok and no way lucas was gonna choose riley during girl meets upstate… likeeee when maya asked him if he chose already, he was like “I did ☺️” RIGHT TO HER FACE WHY WOULD HE SAY IT LIKE THAT IF HE WAS GONNA CHOOSE RILEY 😭😭😭 and when his smile dropped when maya said it didn’t matter cause he chose riley 😭😭😭 y’all he was gonna choose maya and i stand by that ‼️

#maya hart #lucas friar #lucaya #rilaya #girl meets world

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darklydeliciousdesires · 6 months

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Nobody's Girl - Chapter Five.

Thank you everyone for your kind praise of the last chapter! I appreciate you all so much :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,554

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

“God, you are so fuckin’ beautiful, doll, but if you don’t look even prettier when you’re takin’ a pounding. God damn,” he cussed, hands gripped onto her thighs as he held her spread before him, cock driving into her like a jackhammer. Now he’d gotten over his fear that anything even bordering on brutal would shatter his pretty little creature like she was heirloom glass, he was very, very much enjoying letting the beast in his nature run wild.

After all, she had demanded he fuck her harder, reducing his blood to pure magma.

As for Emily... not words existed. Merely static where her thoughts once resided, mouth dropped open, crying out as her lover fucked her so hard, she was sure he was attempting to actually go through her. The sexual finesse, the dirty talk, the way he fed her his thumb while grasping her jaw, slowing the savage onslaught of his thick cock as he leaned to her, kissing her neck sumptuously. God... it was both too much and not enough, if such a juxtapose could exist.

His mouth met hers, kisses of filthy indulgence shared, hand still clutching her jaw as he drove himself into her hard, but slow, oh so blindingly slow. He kissed every little sob that fell from her pretty mouth, the twitch of her slick walls around him sending a flare over his nerves, willing himself not to give in to it. He didn’t, hanging onto his own release until she shattered beneath him, both lying there in a state of blissed out contentment in the aftermath.

“You have all those books over there,” she began a while later, lying on her side as she gestured to the packed-out bookshelf across the apartment, “but I never see you reading any of them.”

“Don’t get much chance to these days,” he confessed, his hand wandering over the curve of her ass. He’d never seen an ass that perfect in all his damned life. “All my good stuff is at my house upstate, anyways. Gotta small library up there.”

“Yeah? Wow, that’s my dream, to stay in one place long enough that I can accumulate books, rather than sitting in a library for hours on end while I read,” she revealed, Luca looking interested.

“Who do you enjoy reading, hm?” he asked, fingers skimming back and forth over the curve of her waist and hip.

She took only a second to ponder. “Edith Wharton, the Brontë’s, Anton Chekov, Franz Kafka. God, I love Kafka. I get giddy on Kafka!” she enthused, watching his eyebrows rise significantly.

“Chekov and Kafka? Really?”

Her mouth dropped open, poking the centre of his chest with her index finger. “Hey, enough with this face of disbelief!”

“No, no, cara mia,” he was quick to speak, shaking his head. “No disbelief, just surprise. Kafka is my favourite author, yet I can’t think of a single other woman I have ever met who has even heard of him, let alone read his work.” He hummed a chuckle, his eyebrows fluttering. “Then again, the kinda broads I meet ain’t exactly bookworms.”

Her eye roll displayed a little bit of attitude he’d never witnessed in her before, and it made him chuckle, reaching to stroke the side of her neck. “Do I detect judgement there, Miss. Mortensen?”

She looked a little uncomfortable for a second before raising her eyebrows, her mouth twisting into a lopsided grin. “I suppose, but that’s only because I don’t know how people can’t find reading somebody else’s words fascinating, especially when there’s so much affinity to be found with them.”

“Gimme an example,” he requested, curling a piece of her hair around his middle finger.

“Kafka once said, ‘I am free, and that is why I am lost.’ It resounded with me so much, after leaving my mother and San Francisco behind. I finally felt free, but so lost for so long, not rooting myself anywhere. Moreso, never finding a place or a person to root myself with,” she spoke, her hand drifting up to cup his face, taking a brave breath. “Until I found you.”

The breadth of his smile made butterflies burst in her tummy, Luca covering her hand with his, turning his head to kiss her palm. “Let your roots wrap around mine all you want.”

“Like two vines curling together?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, leaning to kiss her, “just like that.” Peeling back the protective layers that surrounded her, he was finding a woman who seldom let people see what lay beneath. Quiet still, but so, so intelligent. Well-read and thoughtful, his absolute dream. He had yearned for a woman both of beauty and the intellect to discuss literature.

Why oh why had he wasted his time with whores?

He knew why, actually. Since he’d hammered in the final nail into the coffin that was his marriage, he had not sought women for permanence, merely a means to an end. And now here she was, the permanence he hadn’t been searching for at all, but who he now couldn’t see himself letting go of without a fight.

“So, tell me more about these.” Her hand wandered from his chest, over to the tattoos upon his arms, a seemingly random, haphazard collection of black brandings that marked his olive toned flesh.

“Whaddya wanna know?” he asked, his eyes following where her finger trailed down to his inner elbow.

“What does omerta mean?”

“The code of silence. It’s a Sicilian thing.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You mean a mafia thing?”

Laughing softly through his nose, he nodded. “Yeah, honey. A mafia thing. It’s a code of honour as well as silence. Very big in my world, omerta.”

“And the snake?” she then asked, her finger tracing the swirl of the viper upon his inner forearm.

“No reason, I just liked it.”

Good enough reason as any, she thought, to have a certain pattern of ink etched into your flesh for the rest of your life. Her finger continued to glide, reaching his hand and swirling over the number six. “This?”

“It’s my lucky number, solidified even more lately. I met you on the sixth, and your birthday is on the sixth, too. The sixth of...” he trailed off, frowning with thought.

“The sixth of?” she repeated, winding her hand around.

He looked pained, face creasing as he wracked his brain. “The sixth of one of the months of the year.”

She couldn’t help but fall apart laughing, Luca grumbling softly. “Hey, it’s eleven thirty in the morning and I already blew my load twice. You have to forgive a fella for havin’ a scrambled-up brain.”

“Okay, you’re forgiven. April, by the way.” Leaning in, she kissed his jaw a couple of times, resting her head down on his chest, her fingers gently tickling over the dark hair. “How long do I have you here for today, then?”

“As long as you like. That call I made earlier, it was me tellin’ Angelo to handle everything ‘cuz I knew I’d be busy with somethin’ or another. Glad it was the way I wasn’t expecting to be.”

“You weren’t?”

“Nah, not just yet, I wasn’t. Thought I’d have to deal with why you suddenly stared acting like a rabbit caught in headlights,” he told her, fingers slowly stroking up and down her arm. “Why was that?”

“I’ll tell you another time.”

Oh, she should be so lucky. “Tell me now.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing,” she muffled, hiding her face.

“Can’t hide behind your hair forever,” he snorted, popping his shoulder against her face to make her look up at him.

“No, but I can burrow.” Detangling herself from his embrace, she grabbed the pillows, piling them atop her head and then pointing. “See? Successful burrowing,” she muffled, making him laugh quietly.

He grabbed the pillows, throwing them off and reaching an arm beneath her, hauling her body atop his. “Successful unearthing. Now, tell me.” She made a small noise of discomfort. “Emily.”

“I had a sex dream, alright? Are you happy now, mortifying it out of me?”

He laughed again, louder this time. “Sweetheart, when my tongue has been pushed right up in your holiest of holes, I think we’re past embarrassment, ain’t we?”

Her concession came at the expense of a very pink face. “Hmm, suppose you’re right.”

“Was I as good in your dream as I am in reality?”

Of course, he’d ask that. “It was more of a combined effort.”

The grin he fixed her with had her blushing, hiding her face against his chest. “I demand to be shown.”

Just then, her stomach gurgled. Loudly. “And I think my belly demands to be fed.” Save by the rumble. Phew.

“You wanna eat?” he asked. “I can make that happen for ya. Whatcha want?”

Her head shot up from his chest, her eyebrow arching. “Are you going to cook?”

“I am not,” he chuckled, “Luca Changretta does not cook. He burns. Seriously, I decided to try and be a good husband one morning, when Filomena was days away from giving birth to Milania. Attempted to make her breakfast and started a small fire.”

“Not a good cook, huh?” she laughed, watching him grimace slightly as he shook his head. “Tell me, what are you good at?”

He eyes slowly found hers, grinning widely before sticking his tongue out and giving it a very rapid wiggle.

“Yeah, I think I might know that already, Luca!” she snorted with soft sarcasm, moving to lie at his side again. “What else?”

“I’m a mean shot,” he began, watching her widen her eyes.

“I think that’s standard for a successful wiseguy.”

“I did mean animals opposed to people. But yeah, them too,” he informed her, linking his fingers through hers and squeezing her hand. “I hunt when I’m up at my place in the Catskills. Always manage to get a clean head shot.”

“What else?”

“I’ve been told I’m a good listener. I prefer listening to talking. Trust me, this here, this is real fuckin’ chatty for me,” he spoke, pointing between them. She had noticed that the usually quite verbally concise man had indulged a little more than he normally would. It made her belly tingle. And then it rumbled, quite audibly.

He looked down, running a fingertip around her navel. “So, food?”

“Pastrami and Swiss on white bread, with lots of sauerkraut and mustard, please.”

He kissed her head, detangling himself. “Comin’ right up, doll.” While he walked to the telephone, she admired his form, chiselled back, a few scratches here and there from her nails, more tattoos as well. Oh, and the most perfectly pert ass in existence.

He made a call to the deli just up the block, putting in their order for the shop boy to bring down on his pushbike, her request followed by something loaded with mozzarella and assorted deli meats for himself, returning to the bed as soon as he’d hung up.

“Fifteen minutes. Just enough time for you to give me a live rendition of your dream.”

She should have known that he wouldn’t let it go. “I will, one day. When you’ve forgotten about it.”

He raised en eyebrow, shaking his head. “I’m a guy, darlin’. Trust me, we don’t forget things like that. Ever.”

Leaning to him, she tickled his cupid’s bow with the tip of her tongue, squeaking when he rapidly, but gently moved to bite it. “I’m still not showing you now.”

She got up to fetch herself a water, leaving him grumbling in mild agitation in her wake. Once they’d eaten, they returned to the bed, lying there talking for much of the afternoon in between bouts of sex that only got even steamier than the session before. They did finally make it out of bed, Luca taking her out for dinner in the city before they arrived back at Bella Vita.

While he went for a sit and a drink with his buddies, Angelo and Donny raising their glasses to her, she slid into a seat at the bar, being greeted with a cheek kiss from Maggie.

“So, I hear somebody was enjoyin’ herself with the big boss this morning, huh?” she grinned, her red lips curving to reveal a huge, beautiful grin. “I’d say tell me how you like his cock, but baby love, I fuckin’ heard!”

Emily’s eyes widened in an instant, reaching for the glass of vodka rocks she was furnished with, her hand missing the receptacle a few times before Maggie steered it into place. “Oh my god, how? I didn’t think I was that loud?”

Pointing up and to the side, the barmaid’s grin continued to widen. “Air vent, sugar. Trust me, when the music ain’t blastin’ out down here, the sound travels well. I ain’t even ashamed to admit it got me all hot in my undies, hearin’ you two goin’ at it!”

Her booming laugh filled the space at Emily hiding her face in her hands, reaching to squeeze her shoulders. “Next time you get that hot with ya man, at least let me come up and watch, eh?”

“Jesus, Maggie!” she cried, her friend reaching to pinch her cheek playfully.

“Come on, miss lady!” she laughed, pouring out a measure of rum for a waiting patron, sliding the glass over to him. “You’re the boss’s gal now, you gotta carry yourself like you are. No more wallflower behaviour. Lift that pretty chin, ‘cuz round these parts, you’re the fuckin’ queen now, darl. Everybody knows it, therefore so should you.”

The words absorbed like ink to blotting paper, Emily sitting up a little straighter, casting her glance around the room. She’d walked in there with her hand in Luca’s, and the patrons had noticed. The way they viewed her, it was with nothing but respect from the men, and envy from the women. She wasn’t nobody’s girl any longer, elevated to the most coveted position in that particular corner of Brooklyn.

She turned back to an expectant Maggie, paused in a lull, waiting for her thoughts on the observation. Her eyebrow rose, lifting her chin, remembering. Remembering the way he’d barely let her go for even a second all day, the way he’d praised and lavished her, the way the words cara mia had rolled so effortlessly off his tongue... the way his eyes had shone like peridot wildfire when he came for her.

“Hm,” she hummed, sipping her drink. “I guess I am, and honey...” Leaning close, she made a motion with her finger for her friend to lean closer, Maggie obliging, “...you should see how glorious my throne is.”

A very mischievous wink was delivered, and her mouth fell open, squealing as she drummed her hands repeatedly off the bar, pointing at Emily with both forefingers. “And that is how you be a queen, my gal!”

They shared laughter, Maggie counting down the minutes to her break, taking Emily with her when she went out back to the small rear alleyway behind the speakeasy, where it was quiet and free of people. Well, as quiet as Brooklyn could get on a Friday night.

“There is a way you could help me become queenlier, you know, Maggie,” she spoke, her friend lighting herself a cigarette, offering the case. “Ah, why not?” Cigarettes were a rare treat she couldn’t usually afford. Pulling one out, the redhead offered her light, snapping the lighter shut again.

“Ahhh, my regal acolyte comes to the oracle for her sage advice,” she nodded, blowing smoke down her nose. “Whatcha need help with?”

“Can I be blunt?”

“Are you gonna blush while you do it?” she couldn’t help but tease.

“Probably,” Emily confessed, taking a drag on her cigarette. “I need tips. Blowjob tips. Luca is nothing short of giving – and very talented – when it comes to pleasing me with his mouth, but I’m just so stunted by inexperience that I don’t want to shame myself by trying to return the favour when I have no real clue what I’m doing.”

Maggie began nodding rapidly, pointing her cigarette at her. “Now this, sistah, this is my mother fucking forte! Oh, you have come to exactly the right place, and please do feel free to mention I was the one who taught you to suck dick like a champion. I could do with a pay bump.” They shared giggles, Maggie continuing. “Alright, so first, you gotta make like his manhood is the most amazing thing on god’s green earth, like there ain’t nothin’ you want in your mouth more.”

“I’m there already,” she confirmed, smirking. “Continue.”

“Alright, so with your technique, think popsicle. Don’t go at it all guns blazin’ to begin with, give him a few strokes with your hand, couple’a licks over the head a few times, which you’ve probably noticed already is the most sensitive part of a cock.” A nod confirmed that such had indeed been noted. “Few little sucks, and I cannot stress this enough, get his dick real fuckin’ wet. It’ll feel amazing for him, think mimicking your pussy in terms of wetness.”

“So yeah, keep teasing, taking a little more of him back, go an inch at a time, and for the love of all things holy, cover your teeth. I mean, some guys like a gentle graze, so if he does, he’ll probably tell ya. Keep ‘em away until you know for sure, though. Tease the fuck outta him with your tongue, don’t give him too much at once, and yeah, just build on it. Speed up the closer he gets, then once he’s come, slow it down, be gentler.”

Nodding rapidly at her own advice, she was all done until something popped into her brain, her eyes widening as she flapped her hand. “Oh, just a warning, too. If you let him come in your mouth, be warned. Cum ain’t exactly tasty, so be prepared! He don’t smoke no more, though, so you have that goin’ for ya. Always tastes like salty bleach when they smoke, for some reason.”

“Gotcha, I think I can remember all that. And the warning? Appreciated.”

“Don’t panic about it, though. I mean, it don’t taste the best, but shit, darl. It’s fuckin’ sexy to have a guy blow right in your mouth, and he’ll love ya for it if you swallow. All men do.”

Armed with her new information, Emily made rapid mental notes, feeling herself growing aroused at the mere thought of having his cock in her mouth. She and Maggie walked back in, returning to the bar, unable to stop herself from swinging her ass as she walked, feeling her man’s eyes right upon her, turning to wink at him.

The conversation at his table was much, much more concise over the matter, but conveyed all it needed to.

“Oh, so she finally let you in there, huh, cuz?” Angelo chirped, waving to Emily before grinning at Luca.

He sipped his whiskey, enjoying the buzz. “A gentleman never tells.”

His statement earned a snort. “Yeah? I’ve heard all about your exploits, amico. You ain’t no goddamned gentleman!” he laughed, leaning closer. “So, how many times you jump her today, huh?”

“Yeah, I might not be,” Luca began, putting a fresh toothpick between his teeth, “but that gal over there is my fuckin’ lady, and you don’t get to hear shit.” He then paused, rolling his tongue around the inside of his cheek, a devilish grin beginning to widen his mouth. “Four.”

“You horny bastard.”

Luca raised his eyebrows, sinking his drink. “That’s what she called me, too, cugino. Now, cousin or not, you talk about my gal like that again and I’ll crack your teeth out your goddamned jaw.” Angelo knew he was only half joking, Luca winking as he rose and left the table, gliding across the room and over to the bar.

Emily felt his hand touch against her bare upper back, sliding down at he leaned in close. “Havin’ a good night, doll?”

It could stand to be better. “I am, but I think I need you to take me back upstairs.” Waving to Maggie, she sank her drink and slid from the stool, fingernail running along his jaw before she sauntered off in the direction of the heavy door. It was surprising to nobody more than her, how different a woman she was walking through it than she’d been two weeks before, carried through by Luca a bloodied and battered mess.

She could feel him behind her, her back tingling from his presence, sliding her feet from her shoes and her stockings from her legs once she reached the top of the stairs, moving to the couch and sitting down. “Get over here, handsome.”

“Oh, look at this now, making her demands of me,” he drawled, walking over to her all the same, halting once he was right in front of where she sat. “And what can I do ya for, now I’m here, huh?”

Without a single word, she stood, pushing the jacket from his shoulders, his waistcoat, tie and shirt following before sitting back down again, her gaze never leaving his while undoing his pants. “Stand there and enjoy, is what you can do.”

He had a distinct feeling he was about to do just that.

#luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta smut #luca changretta x ofc #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta fic #nobody's girl #luca and emily

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joelswritingmistress · 8 months

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You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 42

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

The rehearsal dinner. I was an enchanted guest watching the dry run of the wedding unfold. Will stood proudly beside the Justice of Peace and his handful of groomsmen, Dr. Miller included, stood by as a woman rattled off a set of simple instructions.

I sat in the back row of the chairs that were set up to the left and right of a makeshift aisle. The hum of talkative laughter was buzzing behind me from Carol and her girlfriends. Even in their late forties and fifties, the women were happily carrying about the way teen lace girls would. Friendships like that were a rare delicacy; a blessing.

And then the men began their walk around the chairs to the back to meet up with the women. My eyes stalked Dr. Miller, awaiting for his gaze to fall upon me; but I soon recognized his eyes had landed on someone else.

I glanced over my shoulder as an older woman with glasses and the cutest little bob of a haircut made her way toward him. She almost appeared to be half his size, though she was probably just a few inches shorter than me.

Dr. Miller smiled warmly and opened up his arms, nearly scooping the woman up as he placed a kiss firmly on her cheek. And then their hands remained locked as they broke the embrace before she tapped the side of his face gently.

After a short conversation, Dr. Miller extended his arm in my direction and pointed. I froze.

His mother. I swallowed hard and waved before he motioned for me to join them.

I let out a deep breath and made my way down the empty row. I crossed over to where the two of them stood and Dr. Miller welcomed me with a hand against my back.

“(Y/N), this is my mother,” he smiled wide, face beaming, as he looked back and forth between the two of us.

“Francesca Miller,” the woman introduced herself, “But friends and family call me Franky.”

I smiled and didn't know whether to go in for a hug or a handshake, though as I began to introduce myself back, she pulled me in for a hug.

“It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller,” I said.

“It's very nice to meet you,” she said back with a nod, toying with her pearls. “And, please, call me Franky.”

I smiled again and nodded. Dr. Miller’s mother had an elegant, confident exterior; though I could tell she was witty and down to earth just the same.

“Where's your father? He beat me down the elevator.”

Dr. Miller looked around. “He probably took a pit stop at the bar.”

“The jackass,” Franky muttered, making us both laugh. She glanced around for a moment and then summoned Carol, who also claimed she hadn't seen him downstairs yet.

“Your mom is..” I smiled wide, searching for one of the many adjectives that were swirling in my head.

“A bit crazy,” Dr. Miller teased.

“Hilarious,” I corrected, “Adorable.. feisty.”

He chuckled and nodded. “That she is. Dad’s in trouble if he helped himself to a drink.”

“Oh here he is,” Carol’s calm voice made me glance in their direction and I watched as Franky marched up to her husband.

“Chas! Where have you been?” She raised her arms high in the air.

“Nobody was here yet when I came down,” he claimed, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.

“And..”

“And what?” He put his hands out to the sides and I heard Dr. Miller chuckle beside me. Carol then turned toward us, shared a smile with her brother and rolled her eyes.

“Where'd ya go?” She was half his size, but it was apparent she wore the pants in that relationship.

“The bar.” He motioned toward the short hallway he had just rounded out from and Franky threw her hands in the air, speaking in another language in exasperation as she walked away. I was almost certain she was cursing but she winked at Carol and gave a smile when her back was to her husband.

“Dad!” Dr. Miller shouted and waved his father toward us.

The closer he got, the more I could see he was built like a linebacker. For a man I guessed who had to be pushing seventy, simply based on the ages of his children, he looked like he could give Hulk Hogan a run for his money.

“Dad, this is (Y/N).”

“Chas Miller.” He reached out and gave me a gentle handshake, placing his top hand over mine. His bushy mustache smiled as wide as he did.

“It's nice to meet you,” I said to him.

“Pleasure's all mine.” He nodded toward us. “Joel says you met at the university.”

I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yes. A couple of months back.”

“Well, he speaks very highly of you.” Chas gave a nod. In my mind it felt like a nod of approval.

“Chas!” Franky shouted for him before I could respond and he sighed and placed a meaty hand on Joel’s shoulder. “That's my cue.” He looked to me, “Happy wife, happy life.”

“That's right.” I laughed.

“We’ll catch up some more,” Chas vowed. He winked and I could clearly see Dr. Miller’s features when he did that.

When I turned back to Dr. Miller, he was shaking his head with a smirk. “That's my parents.”

“They're adorable.”

He nodded in agreement. “They are. They're good people.”

“They must be happy for Carol.”

Dr. Miller nodded again and pulled me in for a quick kiss. “I'm going to be walking down the aisle with Annie.”

I chuckled. “Well Annie happens to think you're a hunk, so..” I tightened his tie and looked at him with a grin.

“A hunk?” Dr. Miller began to laugh.

“That's the word she used.” I flattened his tie with my hand and looked up at him. “They're good people, too. You all are.”

“Well, you fit right in then.” He kissed my forehead and then my nose.

“I love you so much,” I said to him.

“I love you, too.” He tipped up by chin with his first two fingers and we shared one more kiss. “I think we're going to get started with the walk through.

“Okay. Enjoy.” I took my seat back down as he went to join the wedding party. From afar I soaked it all in - the laughter, the smiles, the banter. It was the exact vibe that should go hand-in-hand with a wedding.

The woman in charge of the procession began the walk-through. I snickered to myself when Joel and Annie strolled arm-in-arm down the aisle together.

Joel. That was one of the only times I thought of him as Joel in my mind, and not Dr. Miller. I had to start referring to him in that way - outside of the bedroom, anyway.

“Can I keep him?” Annie asked in her bold, British accent as they parted ways by the altar.

I laughed to myself and Dr. Miller blew her a kiss that she pretended to catch. As crazy about him as I was, I didn't feel any jealousy about any of it. It was playful and fun. I was happy to be a part of it all.

The others walked down in the same fashion before Carol linked her arm through her father’s as they made their way last.

Despite his macho appearance, I could see tears in Chas’s eyes. They didn't fall, but I was sure the following day at the actual ceremony they would. He appeared to be one of those teddy bear types in the body of an NFL player. It almost made me tear up.

What a beautiful family, I thought. I couldn't help but wonder if maybe one day I would be a part of it. Maybe I would be the one walking down the aisle as Joel waited for me.

I indulged in the fantasy of it all for a moment and continued to soak it all in. At the conclusion of it all, he made his way through the crowd and linked his hand with mine.

“Now’s the fun part,” Dr. Miller said.

“What's that?” I asked him.

“We get to eat.”

“Mmm.” I smacked my lips and he leaned in to kiss my temple.

The night continued on with the same warmth. I didn't want it to end. Chas and Franky grew even more comical after a couple of drinks, sharing funny or embarrassing stories back and forth.

Digging into the Miller family’s memories alongside them was precious - and entertaining. More than once Dr. Miller glanced down with a sheepish grin or placed a hand over his eyes when one of his family members revisited an old memory.

“When he was a teenager he drank our leftover beers from a Fourth of July picnic and filled the bottles with water,” Franky claimed, motioning to her son.”So we wouldn't know he drank them.”

“And then one hot summer day I'm mowing the lawn and go to drink one,” Chas adds, “And I'm like what the hell is this?”

“I remember that,” Carol said, laughing.

“He put them back in the case,” Franky went on. “Filled with water.”

“Evil genius,” Dr. Miller said about himself.

“Yeah a genius alright,” Carol teased. “You got caught within a week.”

Franky shook her head, looking outward in a sort of daydream. “Those days were funny.”

“See what you two are getting into?” Chas asked, motioning to Will and then to me. Again, I was happy to be included.

“I'm very lucky,” Will said to his future father-in-law.

“Me, too,” I added.

“Oh, can we just toast, already.” Carol raised her glass of wine.

“What are we toasting to?” Dr. Miller asked, raising the Old Fashioned he was sipping on. I mirrored them, as did his parents and Will.

Carol looked at Will for an extra second and then back to the rest of us. “To family.”

“I like that one,” Chas said with a nod.

Dr. Miller clanked his glass around with everyone's, leaving mine for last. He gave a little smirk. “To family.”

I nodded back. “Family.”

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