#his beard must feel nice when it scratches against your ------

[protect-daniel-james]

[familyvideostevie]

day after tomorrow

joel miller x reader

summary: joel drops you off and picks you up from the airport. you are definitely falling in love with him. 

warnings: modern no outbreak au, game!joel or hbo!joel, fluff, really just a fluff fest honestly, new-ish relationship, falling in love, sweet enough to make your teeth ache | 2.7k

A/N: this is a christmas gift for my dear friend @strangerfreaks who makes my life better in every way possible. i love you! hope you enjoy this <3

___

He's leaning on the side of the truck when you hurry outside with your stuff. 

"Morning," you call. It's barely that, sky still dark and air still carrying the bite of the night's chill. 

Joel straightens up and gives you a tired smile. Most of his smiles are tired but they're always genuine when directed at you. He tugs the backpack from your shoulder and presses his lips to your cheek, beard scratching your skin gently. 

"Howdy," he says in your ear before pulling away.

The travel mug Joel pushes into your hands is warm to the touch. 

"Tea," he says before you can tell him it's too early for coffee. His voice is deeper than usual, still warming up from sleep. It's not a cup from the local shop -- they're not open yet -- so he must have made it at home. "No caffeine before flights." 

"You remembered?" 

He gives you an unimpressed look and grabs your bags. They go in the backseat of his truck and he jerks his chin at the passenger door. "Get in. S'chilly."

It's also early. So early you were not going to ask him to drive you to the airport but when you mentioned you had to go on a work trip he offered. Insisted, actually, once he found out what time you needed to get there.

"You ain't takin' a cab that early," he had said. "Hell, you ain't takin' a cab home, neither. I'll pick you up."

This thing between you isn't new anymore, not exactly, but it's not solid yet. It doesn't have a name. But it's been a few months and you know what his sheets smell like and the feel of him pressed against you in the middle of the night and how he laughs with his head thrown back, mouth wide and eyes creased at the corners. He likes to take you on long walks around the lake a few towns over and you know all about his daughters even if you haven't met them yet. Your life feels a little more solid with Joel in it and the swell of your heart in your chest when you talk to him, when you see him, when he looks at you, is a welcome feeling. It's nice to want and be wanted in return. 

The inside of his truck is warm, your seat heater already turned on. The radio is down to a low hum and there's a silver cup similar to your own in the holder between the seats. Joel gets back into the truck with a slight groan and glances at you to see if you've got your seatbelt on before he clicks his. 

"Ready?" he asks. You nod. He settles his hand on your headrest and looks out the back windshield as he reverses the truck out of the driveway. "Shouldn't hit much traffic," he says. 

You take a sip of your tea and watch him as he drives out of your neighborhood and towards the highway. Part of you wishes you would hit traffic so you could look at him longer. Even in the dark you know his face pretty well by now. His hair is getting a little long, the dark threaded through with some grey and falling over his perpetually lined forehead. The scar on the bridge of his nose that you love to run your finger across and the bruises under his eyes from too many nights up late working on site plans and employee schedules. You don't think you've met a man who works as hard as Joel, and yet here he is driving you to the airport when he could be sleeping. 

Maybe it's because he's tired or maybe it's because it's dark or maybe it's because you're leaving for a few days but Joel lets you look without teasing. His eyes catch yours for just a second and he smirks.

"Why don't you drink coffee before a flight?" He takes a sip of his own thermos. You watch his throat work as he swallows and look away this time. The sky is starting to look purple out your window, the trees and fields and occasional buildings flying by too fast for your eyes to settle on anything. Joel drinks coffee like it's water. You're still leaning things about each other -- most days you find yourself thinking that you want to be learning things about him for the rest of your life -- and this is a new topic of conversation. You haven't had to be on a plane since you met him.

"I don't really like flying," you say. "Makes me nervous. I figure caffeine will just make it worse."

"Don't like it much either." You look at him again and find see smirk turn to a frown as he merges onto the nearly empty highway. "You gonna be okay?"

He asks like it's within his power to make flying something enjoyable, to cancel your work trip, to squash everything in this world that makes you nervous. Mostly you're just glad he's not teasing you about it. Maybe someday you can take a trip and be grumpy about it together.

"I'll be fine, Joel."

"Hm."

He rests an elbow against the window and rakes his hand through his hair.

"What are you up to this week?" you ask. 

He sighs. "Not much," he says. "Lumber shipment but Tommy's handlin' it. Ellie says her shower head is actin' funny so I'll go to her place and look at that. Probably sit my ass on the couch and try to watch a damn football game or somethin'."

"So what I'm hearing is you're going to miss me." It's meant to be a tease but it comes out a bit more earnest than you'd like. 

He sends you that unamused look of his but the mirth in his eyes betrays him, tells you he sees through it. You're learning that he's good at that -- seeing what you really mean, what you really want, who you really are, all the way down to the core. "Course I will," he says. "What man wouldn't miss cold hands bein' stuck up his shirt when he gets in bed?"

You scoff and Joel snickers. You could remind him how he usually catches your hands in his before you make it to his hemline on the rare nights he does wear a shirt, how he cradles your fingers and blows on them softly while rubbing them with his perpetually warm palms. The memory makes your breath hitch just a bit. 

It's only three days. Some conference your boss wanted you to go to in his stead. It won't require much of you -- you just have to attend a few panels, a dinner or two, and schmooze a little bit. You'll be back before you know it. You tell yourself it's silly to feel this apprehension at the distance, the time apart. But you're used to Joel by now and damn if you won't miss him. Used to him taking up space in your kitchen, used to his arm around you on the couch, used to his short texts and heavy gaze. You know by now that it's only a matter of time before you love him.  

"I'll miss you, too," you say softly. Joel eyes you, smirk turned soft again and reaches for you. He settles his palm on your thigh and you cover your hand with his. 

When you get to the airport aren't many cars around and you're pretty sure the attendants won't yell at you for idling. Joel seems to think the same thing as he gets out of the truck to set your luggage on the ground. You leave your now-empty to-go mug in his car and throw your arms around him when he gets to the curb with your suitcase. His chest rumbles in amusement but he hugs you back, one palm rubbing between your shoulder blades until you pull away. 

"Thank you for --"

"Nope," he interrupts you. "No thanks allowed." He hands you your backpack and you shoulder it. "I'll pick you up on Wednesday," he says. 

You wave him off. "I get in way too late, don't worry about it --"

His hand cups your cheek and the words sputter out in your throat. "I'll be here," he says again. 

"I'll call you," you say. "When I get there." It sounds like a question.

His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Please do."

"Thanks for the tea --"

"Now, what did I just say?"

You wrinkle your nose at him and he rolls his eyes before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You sigh into the kiss just a little though it remains chaste, mouths closed as his thumb strokes your cheek once, twice, before he pulls away. It's the kind of kiss that feels fond, feels familiar. A kiss that becomes routine and for a second you imgaine the press of your mouths a thousand times over just like this. 

"Safe flight, sweetheart."

You smile at him and grab your suitcase before you stand here kissing him all day. "Bye, Joel." 

6:04 am: you make it to your gate okay?

You send him a picture of your breakfast sandwich and the sun rising through the window, painting the sky purple and orange. 

6:05 am: don't text and drive!

He replies with a photo of a full mug of coffee on his counter. It's a silly one, a dinosaur wearing a Santa hat. You think Sarah got it for him as a gag gift. 

6:05 am: home already. let me know when you land

6:06 am: will do. have a good day!

The flight is pretty okay. You spend the bumpy moments thinking about Joel's hand on your leg and get through it just fine. A shuttle takes you to your hotel and you have to hurry a bit to be ready for your first panel. 

You're busy all day. So tired by the time you get back to your room that you flop on the bed with a groan. 

"Ugh," you say, face smushed into the sheets. You're tired and hungry and...you miss Joel and feel a little silly about it.

That sense of puppy love, as most people would call it, hasn't faded. Your feelings for Joel are more than the crush they were when you first started seeing each other but they still linger in the realm of infatuation. You like to look at him, to feel the solid warmth of him beside you, above you, underneath you. You like being near him. But you're also starting to love things. You love the way his voice sounds when he wakes up, the way he says your name over the phone, the way he asks you what you want, how you are, how your day was. You love to see him on your couch, in your kitchen, in your bed. You've started to miss him when he's not around. 

And what you said to him in his truck is true. You do miss him. It's an ache that sits in the center of your chest, an ache that feels like the best kind of bruise -- because it comes from something good. And because you know it'll be soothed soon enough. 

But, because you're only human, you doubt that it's as serious for him. Joel keeps his cards close to his chest and while you feel like you know him pretty well by now you also have so much to learn. So, though you really want to, you don't pick up the phone and call him. Maybe the next time you're away. 

7:54 pm: day 1 done! ready to get in bed. why do men talk so much?

He texts back immediately. 

7:54 pm: god knows. don't forget to order room service on the company dime. sweet dreams.

You laugh and do as he says. 

The rest of the conference goes the same. By day three you're exhausted and your face hurts from smiling at so many people. Your shoes are no longer comfortable and as soon as the closing keynote ends you're out of there, changing into soft clothes and taking the shuttle to the airport. You text Joel a picture of your airport dinner and then your eye bags and he replies with a cute that has you giggling a little too loudly in public. 

You just want to get home to him. Your own bed is a bonus. 

But then your flight gets delayed. Twice. Joel tells you not to worry, he'll pick you up in the middle of the night if he has to. Once you board you get stuck on the tarmac for another half hour before finally taking off. It's a decidedly less relaxing experience because you're so anxious to be home but you make it. When you land it feels like you're sitting in your seat for ages. You're tired and feel gross and you want to go to bed. Your phone turns back on and you've got one text waiting for you.

10:34 pm: i'll be by baggage claim

That was 15 minutes ago. He must have been checking your flight in the air to get here at a reasonable time. God, you want to touch him. You want to stick your nose in his neck and inhale. 

You try very hard not to run through the terminal to the escalator that goes down to arrivals. It seems to move really fucking slowly once you're on it. As soon as it gets far enough for you to see the baggage claim level and everyone waiting there your eyes search for him. You see some families, a few tired children sleeping in arms that hold them tenderly. A group of girls with a sign that reads WELCOME HOME RACHEL!

And then there's Joel.

Once you spot him it's hard to keep a smile from your face. He's standing there with his hands in his pockets, eyes glued to the escalator. Jeans, jacket, boots, and a firm set to his jaw that might be intimidating to anyone else but to you it's familiar. It's him. Once he sees you he stands a little taller and you see his cheek twitch. If someone wasn't in front of you you'd be down the steps in seconds but you wait until you're at the bottom to race forward. 

It's probably a bit dramatic. You drop your suitcase and backpack at your feet in front of him.

"Hi," you say, and then you throw your arms around his shoulders. Joel laughs. 

"S'like you're comin' home from war, or somethin'," he says, though his hugs you back just as tightly. "Should'a made a sign."

"Feels like it." Your words are muffled by his shoulder. 

"That bad, huh?" His palm drags up and down your spine. "Let's get you home, then."

Neither of you pull away. "I missed you," you say softly. 

Joel breathes deep and pulls away, hand on the back of your head as he makes sure you're looking at him. 

"Missed you, too," he says gruffly. Then he kisses you. It's less chaste than your goodbye kiss but still perfectly acceptable for airport arrivals, you think. 

"You hungry?"

"I sent you a picture of my dinner!"

"Not what I asked." You shrug and tangle your fingers with his. His thumb strokes the back of your hand. "We'll get you somethin' on the way home."

"Do you want to stay over?" you ask in a rush, realizing too late he's got no reason to want to. It's late and tomorrow is a workday. "I'm just gonna shower and go to bed but I--"

Joel's nostrils flare. "If you want me to I will." Simple as that. 

"Okay," you say. He squeezes your hand.

You walk in easy silence for a few moments. Once you're in the car you'll ask how his week was, tell him about the gossip you learned at the conference. You'll look at him the entire drive to your place, drinking your fill of him after three days without. Yeah, you're going to love him. It's just a matter of time.

"Thank you for coming to get me," you say. 

Joel looks like he wants to argue but he allows it.

"Anytime," he says. It sounds like a promise. 

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[bratphilia]

taboo (w. afton x reader)

note: eeee its here its finally here.

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: age gap (reader is college age 18-21 and william is 45-50), step-father!william/steve, creepy behavior from william, smoking, masturbation, absolutely cliche plot, daddy kink, vibrators, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, rough sex

your mom left for the weekend to go on a small trip with her girlfriends. leaving you with him.

him being your weird, undeniably hot step-dad, steve. weird in the sense that he seemed to be out of touch with reality sometimes, erratic, and impulsive. you never quite understood how your mom stands him, but you can definitely get it looks-wise.

it's friday when your mom leaves, coincidentally the same time you had class, until around 7pm. you come back home around 7:30 to the smell of pizza. there's a box of it sitting on the island.

"steve?" you call out.

"oh, hey!" he says, he's watching tv with a beer in hand as he turns his head around to face you. "how was class? i took the liberty of ordering out."

you grab a paper plate left next to the box. "it was fine, boring lecture, though. thanks, by the way."

"no problem, kid."

kid. ugh, reality slapped you in the face. he's just not into you.

you sit on the opposite end of the couch, watching tv while eating your slice. you notice steve's leg bouncing up and down, clearly agitated or anxious about something. you decide not to say anything.

then, "hey, mind if i go out and have a cigarette?" he asks, already getting up to find his carton of cigarettes in one of the cabinets.

"oh, not at all..." you mumble mindlessly, not thinking much about it.

then he stops halfway from the glass sliding door. "wanna come with me?"

your brow furrows as you look up at him. "sure?"

he laughs a little. "c'mon, we can share it."

you gulp. you've never had a cigarette before. gingerly, you get up and follow him out the door. the backyard patio is a nice setup. there are two metal chairs with a table in between and the both of you sit across from each other.

you watch him as he lights the end of a cigarette and holds it between his pointer and middle finger while he inhales. he looks at you when he exhales with a look of amusement and you realize that you've been staring.

"nervous?" he asks.

"yeah, a little," you say truthfully.

"it'll be fine, just take it slow, alright?" he tells you, passing it over. your fingers brush slightly against his.

you look down at the cigarette, then bring it to your lips and inhale. the smoke is harsh and alien-feeling on your throat. then you feel overcome with an admittedly pleasurable buzz all over your body. it's strong enough that you can't feel your lips, and you don't trust your ability to speak either. you pull it out of your mouth and exhale, watching a cloud of smoke blow from your lips.

steve laughs. you must look visibly shaken. it takes everything in you not to cough, so you clear your throat quietly.

"like it?" he asks.

"y-yeah," you answer in a small, broken voice.

"i'm willing to share with you this weekend, but you absolutely cannot tell your mother. got it?" he says rather sternly. you nod in response.

the two of you finish the cigarette, passing it back and forth after your respective hits. he takes the deflated stick and throws it in a bush. "i'm going to head off to bed. goodnight."

"okay, goodnight," you call, following suit.

in the safe darkness of your room, you cover your mouth as you rub your clit with one pinching your nipple. you think about steve's hands doing this to you. in fact, you think about that a lot.

you think about his beard scratching against your soft skin. his scent, cheap cologne and cigarettes. you think about what he tastes like, the aftermath of smoking and a taste that's just exclusive to him.

you come thinking about it.

on saturday morning, you decide to take a bath to calm you down from how he had you all riled you up last night. you can't stop thinking about it, though. the small touch of your fingers brushing against his has you craving more.

"you absolutely cannot tell your mother. got it?" fuck.

your hand itches to touch yourself. you try to snap out of it by playing music from your phone, but nothing helps. at this point, you should just get out. there's no point anymore.

once the water is drained and you're out of the bathtub, your heart sinks.

there's no towels left.

fuck my life, you think. you quietly open the door and try to go unnoticed as you slip away into the laundry room, leaving puddles of water in your wake.

to make matters even worse, steve is there, seemingly repairing the washing machine while muttering curses to himself. you forgot he has a bachelor's in engineering. what do you even do in the situation?

"uhm," ask in a small voice, "are there... any towels i can use?"

"yeah, there should be some..." he trails off when he looks at you, then clears his throat, "...in the dryer."

steve drinks in your appearance. your young body is nothing compared to anything he's seen before, and it goes straight to his cock. he tries his best not to rake his eyes up and down your body, but you're from a distance that he can see your breasts when he looks you in the eye.

"here, i'll get one for you," he mutters, feeling very much like a creepy old man, and begrudgingly pulls his attention away from you and opens the dryer.

he stands to full height and walks towards you impossibly slow. you look up at him with a quivering lip. god, you're gorgeous, he thinks. he hands you the towel and pretends to get back to what he's doing.

while you're walking away, you can't help feel like you're being watched. and you're right, by the way. your whole body shivers.

you avoid steve the rest of the day, absolutely mortified.

on sunday, you're losing your fucking mind.

your personal vibrator sits between your legs and you're practically sobbing into your pillow. you've come at least three times so far. you just can't stop thinking about steve, and it almost hurts. not just from the overstimulation, but how wrong it is to feel this way about him.

you can feel the wet spot on your bed, from inside you and your own sweat. with an uncontrollably loud "ughhh" you come again for the fourth time. the door, thank god, is closed in the hopes that someone won't disturb you.

the noise of your vibrator and the noises you're making drowns out the sound of a knock on your door.

"just as i thought," steve says smugly.

you throw the pillow away from your face to reveal him standing in the doorway. your first instinct is to hide the vibrator in the sheet and cross your legs.

"uh-uh, don't do that," he says coldly, making his way towards you swiftly and sitting on the bed next to your legs.

he reaches over your body and snatches the vibrator and examines its wand-shaped figure intently. then he puts it in his mouth and moans at the taste, practically slurping up your juices. he pulls away muttering a "so sweet."

you feel like hiding your face back in the pillow when he looks at you. "what am i going to do with you, sweetheart?"

"please," you whisper, "i need you so bad, please."

and steve fucking laughs at you. "don't i know it."

he reaches a hand and feels the sheets, specifically the wet spots where you came multiple times. "what a mess you made," he says in mock astonishment, and he can't just be talking about the sheets.

you rub your thighs together and whimper, grabbing his attention. "can't believe you'd rather fuck yourself on this silly thing rather than just asking for what you want."

you want to roll your eyes. much easier said than done.

before you know it the vibrator springs to life with a low humming sound that makes your clit twitch. steve asks, no, commands you to "spread your fucking legs" for him. you do what he says embarrassingly instantly, but you can't find it in you to really care.

he teases you by running the vibrator up and down your slit, making your back arch. "please," you whine, drawing out the syllables of the word. 

"what do you need, precious?" he asks, cocking his head. 

you can barely speak. you grasp around his wrist trying to move his hand up north to your clit but his strength is unmatched. "gonna have to tell me what you want, beautiful. i can't read your mind." 

his pace and placement is set purposefully to tease you, to keep you on the edge waiting for what you want. you're too embarrassed to vocalize it.

"tell me, baby, i know what you want." 

you run your tongue across your lip. "need it on my clit, please." 

"yeah?" he uses his free hand to pull back the hold protecting your clit and moves the vibrator upwards so it hits on the sensitive nerves. "need it right here?"

"daddy! yes — ah!" you cry out in agony. it comes out before you can think twice. you've always refused to refer to him as "dad."

steve flashes you a wolfish grin. "oh, so now i'm your daddy, huh? wonder what changed." 

he moves the vibrator in tight circles. you moan out helplessly, gripping the sheets so hard that the threads might pull loose. and before you know it, you're squirting on his hand, the sheets, and even a little on his pants and shirt. 

"filthy thing, making a mess all over daddy," he tsks but doesn't pull the vibrator away from you.

"'m sorry," you mumble. 

he keeps the vibrator at your exposed clit. "love it so much, daddy!" you cry out drunkly. 

"yeah? love it so much?" he mocks your high pitched voice, pressing the vibrator impossibly hard against your clit and keeping it still there.

you're coming again, juices leaking out of your pussy. you thrash your head around when he doesn't let up. "daddy, please stop."

you try closing your legs around the vibrator and tugging at his wrist again but he simply opens your legs back up with those big hands. he decides you've had enough torture after another orgasm and turns off the vibrator, discarding it along with his clothes. 

steve climbs on the bed on his knees so he's placed above you. he takes both of your legs and throws them over his shoulders, plunging his cock inside you. he isn't gentle at all, nothing like you've imagined. he's fucking you roughly with reckless abandon.

"look at you, you fucking slut," he snarls at you, baring his teeth. "so horny over your step-daddy. disgusting." 

"yesss," you moan. "so horny for you, daddy."

he's chuckling breathlessly. "stupid fucking whore even knows it. isn't that right, sweetie?" 

you mumble an "mhm" that gets drawn out on a particularly hard thrust. his hips slam against your elevated ass and your arch your back, closing your eyes tightly. 

his cock is hitting a certain spot that has you moaning and crying out beyond your control. you can tell he's close as well as his thrusts are breaking their pattern. "tell me how much you want to come, baby."

"need to — ahn — come so badly, daddy!" you're surprised you can even speak at this point. 

steve places one of your legs down to free hus hand so he can rub at your clit in rough, side to side strokes. you're gone. coming with a loud "steve!"

he groans as his thrusts grow rapid for a brief moment. your body goes limp as you let him use your pussy to get off. he buries himself deep inside you and comes. spurts of his ejaculate shoot inside you and you moan, loving the feeling.

wordlessly, steve crawls on the space on the bed next to you and starts playing with your hair. you stare at the ceiling. "am i actually a slut?" you wonder out loud.

"no, honey," he sighs. "daddy just says things like that when he's riled up."

he pulls you in for an affectionate kiss, your first one together. it's slow, no tongue, but lasts long. 

"i'm going to head to the corner store and get you a plan b, then we can take a bath together when i get back. okay?" he tells you.

we. you like the sound of that. love it, even. 

"okay," you confirm, stomach fluttering at how nice he's being. 

on monday morning, you wake up to find the space next to you on your bed empty. he carried you to your room and you fell asleep on his chest after the bath. 

you walk down the stairs and two voices become audible. your mom is home. 

steve kisses her on the cheek. your blood boils and your fists clench as reality sets back in. 

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

As love and its Decisive Pain

Main Masterlist

I had some thoughts and had to write them down, so here we are.

Title inspo

Contains: Fluff, loving husband Ray, impact play with a flogger, bondage, smut (fingering, sex toys, P in V) aftercare. Not beta read.

2.1K words

Ray goes shopping

The narrow, cobbled stone street was one of Ray's favourites. The area, which was once a red light district back when the Thames was filthy and a loaf of bread cost a few cents, still had an illicitness about it, like the pleasure and vice still lingered in the air. Up an old set of poorly lit steps and left through a glass door into a store with walls lined with goods that would make The Marquis De Sade blush.

"Mr Smith, good to see you again. I was just about to call you about a new piece." Mavis, the woman at the counter, ducked down and produced a long black flogger with the strangest handle he had ever seen. "It came in yesterday. Nice thudy fall with no sting, and the handle," she handed to Ray as he approached the bench. "It's muti use."

The handle was made of the smoothest metal he had ever felt and it took up the heat of his hand like it was enchanted. "How much."

Mavis smiled. "For you, five hundred." He slid the money across the counter as she packed it in a fancy black box. "Anything else today?"

He shook his head. "No thank you, Ma'am. Pass my compliments onto the Leatherworker, they did some wonderful work." He left with a wave and a smile on his face, tonight was going to be delightful.

Ray did his best to fight back his smile as he walked into his home library. You were sitting, curled up on his favourite chair by the window and flashed him a warm smile when you set eyes on him. "Hello Dearest, I wasn't expecting you until six."

He smiled. "Micky let me off early. I got you something." He took the box from under his arm and placed it on the table. "I think you'll like it."

You took your time opening it, untying the ribbon before pulling off the lid and moving the tissue paper aside. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion, Beloved, I just wanted to get you something nice." He sat next to you and pressed his lips to the side of your face. "Do you like it?"

You removed the flogger from the box and ran your fingers through the many tails. "Oh yes, I love it. Thank you." You placed your hand on his cheek and kissed him. "Can we use it tonight?"

He grinned against your lips. "Of course."

You return your attention to the implement in your hand; the hilt was odd, it was longer than any others you owned, with two sections separated by a guard, it was only when you took a closer look at the pommel that it registered. "Oh, that's interesting."

His beard scratched your skin as his teeth nipped your ear. "I thought so too." He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed you as his hand slid up your shirt, only when you were breathless did he pull away to speak. "I'm going to cook you dinner, then you're all mine."

The bedroom was pleasantly warm, as were Ray's hands as he undressed you. "You remember what to say if you want to stop?"

You nodded. "Poppy."

He smiled. "Good girl." The rope he looped around your wrists so he could tie you to the bed posts was soft, each knot made carefully for your comfort. There was enough tension so that when your legs eventually gave out, you would stay standing, your back remaining a perfect target for him to land every well placed strike.

To anyone outside the room, it must have looked like some lurid facsimile of a crucifixion, you standing naked, your arms spread open with each one tied to a bedpost, but it was one of the most erotic things Ray had ever seen. The brush of leather on your skin was gentle, a mere promise of things to come. "Are you ready, my Darling?"

You took a deep breath. "Yes."

The first few hits were soft, an easy warm up so you could fall into the sensation in relaxed comfort. There was a pause and his eyes met yours as a warm, calloused hand found your back, feeling the growing heat coming off your skin before his voice filled the air, already tight and filled with lust. "Are you ready for more?"

"Please." The next hit wasn't soft and it had your muscles coiling to avoid jolting too much in your bonds. He paused to wait for you to relax before delivering the next one, and the second you stopped tensing, they came in steady succession until he hit a pleasant rhythm that filled the room with satisfying thuds.

When he came around to your front this time, his shirt was rolled up to his forearms, and his pupils had all but taken over the pretty blue of his eyes. "So, do you like it?"

"I do, very much."

He smiled and scratched your heated skin, the feeling mixing with the dull ache of his hits and sending tingles up and down your flesh. "Good. Would you like more?"

You nodded. "Yes please."

He pecked your check before disappearing from view again and the hits began once more. Time grew fuzzy around the edges, like he had wrapped your brain in cotton wool and you fell into the support of the rope like a sailor falls into the safety of a hammock. Eventually he stopped, returning to your side as he ran his hand up and down your back. "I think it's time we move on."

He placed the flogger down for the moment and ducked under your arm so he could stand in front of you. The kiss he took you in was filled with lust and he didn't even give you a moment on control as he nipped your lower lip. He slowly ran his hand down your body, his fingers seeking until they reached your core. "Fucken hell, you're so fucken wet Sweetheart, is this all for me?"

He must have meant for the question to be rhetorical because there was no way you could give him a clear answer when his index finger circled your clit. He watched your face as he slid two fingers inside you, smiling to himself as your expression grew tight with pleasure. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

He pulled away and your eyes popped open, and you watched as he stepped away, making his way to his bedside drawer to collect a bottle of lube. Each movement was full of intention as he picked up the flogger by the bottom part of the hilt below the guard and spread a generous amount of lube on the pommel. The metal was surprisingly cold, given how it felt when you first held it. He rubbed it through your folds and you felt him grab your face with insistent fingers as your eyes drifted closed. "No, don't close your eyes, I want to watch you feel it."

The second your eyes met his, he slid the hilt inside you in one long, persistent push. He paused for a moment to admire the glassiness of your eyes and the way your breath caught in your chest before slowly pulling it out and then using the same slow, steady pace to slide it back in. The smooth steel was unforgiving hard, and guided by Ray, it pressed against your walls in a way that made you feel unbelievably full. He changed the angle so the rounded head of the pommel pressed against our G-spot with each pass and mercifully, he allowed your eyes to close as your head fell against your bicep.

He seemed intent on torturing you, never picking up speed or adding force but something about the unrelenting pressure and hardness of the hilt increased the pleasure growing in your core regardless. He shifted, never letting go of the flogger and you felt him press himself against your back as he resumed fucking you with it. He was hard in his trousers and it seemed the whole scene was affecting him just as much as you as he began to whisper praise in your ear.

Soon enough, Ray's persistence began to pay off and you felt yourself grow closer to the edge, but as your thighs closed around his hand involuntarily, you felt his foot kick at you calf. "Keep your legs open or you'll regret it." There was no force in the kick, it was nothing more than a tap but for a moment, you felt the same level of helplessness that you imagine the men who ran afoul of him felt when he kicked them to the ground.

You planted your feet on the ground and forced yourself to keep your legs still. "I'm sorry."

He smiled and pressed his lips to the back of your neck as he slid his free hand down your body to run your clit. "Hush, just be the good girl I know you can." While the push of the hilt remained languid, his fingers were fast and the juxtaposition was as confusing as it was enrapturing. "Are you going to come for me?"

You nodded. "Yes, if you want me to."

He smiled as his teeth nipped at your shoulder. "Of course I do." All most as if by magic, you fell into bliss as he sucked a mark into your skin. It was wave after wave of intensity while he poured praise over you like you were Venus in the shell. He slowly slid the handle from you, and you heard it thud before he untied you, allowing you to lean your back against his chest as you found your legs. "Can I have you tonight or will it be too much?"

You shook your head. "No, I don't want to stop."

"Good." He took your hand and led you to the side of the bed, pulling back the covers and gesturing for you to lie down while he undressed. The carefulness was a show in itself, each item coming off slowly before being folded and placed down on a chair. He was deceptively large under his clothes and watching his cock spring free as he slid his black boxers down his legs had your mouth watering.

He shot you a cocky grin as he closed the distance and climbed onto the bed, manhandling you until you were lying under him. He leaned down and kissed you, his beard scratching your skin as one hand trailed down your body so he could lift your legs over his waist. He shifted onto his elbow as his hand slid up your thigh then between you, wrapping around his cock so he could line himself up.

He met eyes with you, his expression going soft. "Are you ready?"

You nodded. "Yes please."

Your eyes fluttered closed as he groaned, his hips twitching as he fought to maintain control of himself. "Fucken 'll Love, your cunt could kill a man." His whole body coiled as his hips started to shift, a rhythm that had the head of his cock brushing your G-spot with each stroke. You clung to him, trying to match his pace as he pushed you closer to the edge. After the steel of the flogger hilt, Ray's cock felt positivity molten and the heat of bare skin against yours had a comforting heat spreading from every point of contact.

His words had turned into a hushed prayer, said more to himself than you as he wove a hand between your bodies to rub your clit. "Come on Love, you gotta come for me."

It happened slowly this time, a radiating warmth emanating from his cock, through your core and to the tips of your fingers and toes. His pace picked up as he chased his own high, the hand that was on your clit curling into your hip in a pushing clasp as he neared the edge. He took you in a kiss, equal part loving and rough as you felt him pulse inside you, and his muscles faltered as his hips stuttered and his weight fell on you.

His forehead rested on yours as he caught his breath, gazing into your eyes lovingly as he smiled softly. "Thank you."

You giggled. "Shouldn't I be thanking you?"

He chuckled and rolled off you, bringing you with him as you rested your head on his chest. "No, you are the one that is so ready to give yourself to me whenever and for whatever I ask and I'll always be grateful for that."

You sighed and pressed your lips to his chest. "You're really sweet when you want to be."

He smiled and brushed his fingers over your cheek. "Yeah, well when you're ready I'm going to run you a bath and get you clean up then we can get some sleep. How does that sound?"

You nodded. "It sounds good. I love you Ray."

His lips were soft when he placed them on your forehead. "I love you too y/n."

Fin

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

before - part four

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

it’s almost the end of the summer, and everything is about to change.

a/n: pls don’t yell at me too much (also for full effect, listen to Still by Noah Kahan - it came on while I was writing this and I burst into tears….)

word count: 4.5k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, fluff, unprotected p-in-v, oral (m and f receiving), intense sex, confessions and hard conversations, I apologize but for the sake of the plot we must persevere!

✨follow @friskito-library and turn on notifications for updates on new works/chapters✨

You’re not expecting the knock at the door.

It’s nearly three weeks now, since your night at Joel’s house. The following days were nothing short of blissful, keeping up your almost-daily coffee routine, stolen kisses in the hardware store, another dinner at a different restaurant after Joel swung a job that paid him nicely. You took him to the movies, sat in the back corner of the dark theatre and let him stick his tongue down your throat when your minds started to wander away from the screen. When he could, he stopped by in the morning to drive you to work, picked you up on his way home when your schedules matched.

Your meeting Tommy comes as a surprise; he followed Joel into the store one day, the pair of the arguing about something or other. Joel had stopped short when he spotted you at the end of the aisle, and you hadn’t notice the brothers standing there until Tommy loudly declared, “That’s her! Isn’t it? That’s gotta be her!”

Before you really knew what was happening, you were being swept up into a bear hug, nearly lifted off your feet with the force, and meeting Joel’s sympathetic eyes over his brother’s shoulder.

“Tommy Miller,” he introduced himself after putting you back on your feet. You shook his hand with a laugh, offering your own name, and he grinned broadly. There was definitely a resemblance between the brothers, Tommy’s hair a few shades darker, his shoulders not as broad, his face handsome in a different way than Joel, but handsome all the same. “I gotta thank you, honey,” he told you, still gripping your hand with both of his. “My brother has not been able to shut up about you, never seen him so happy.”

Over his shoulder, you saw Joel go bright red, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tommy.”

“Am I wrong?” his brother shot back, tugging on your hand and tucking you under his shoulder. You just laughed, resting your hand against his back. “Not that I blame you, brother. She’s just as pretty as you said.” He looked down at you with a broad grin. “You are very pretty.”

You sputtered on another laugh. “Thank you, Tommy.”

Joel glared at his brother. “Go find the plaster, would you?” he grumbled, and grabbed for you, tucking both arms around you and shoving at his brother’s shoulder.

As soon as Tommy disappeared into the next aisle, Joel glanced left and right to make sure the coast was clear, and then his mouth covered yours, a hot kiss that had your toes curling in your shoes. He crowded you up against the paint cans you’d been rearranging, curling his hands along the edge of the shelves while you cupped his face in your hands, scratching your nails through his beard.

“My stupid fuckin’ brother,” he grumbled in your ear, and you giggled when he kissed your neck, teeth nipping slightly. “Spillin’ all my secrets.”

“He seems sweet,” you replied, giggling harder when his hands pinched at your ribs, tickling you. “Joel!”

That had been a week ago, and you’re standing in the kitchen, musing over the moment, your heart still racing over the phone call you’d received when you got home, when you hear the knock. Your mind is a mess, a slur of memories and whispers and feelings.

You school your face into something happier than you’re feeling when you open the door, a bright-eyed Joel Miller standing on your front porch, his truck idling by the curb, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

You nod wordlessly, grabbing your cellphone and your keys and walking out of the house, locking the door behind you. He gives you a soft kiss before tugging you down the porch steps, fitting you under his arm, fingers toying with the shoulder of your — his — shirt.

“I’m never gettin’ this back, am I?”

“Not on your life, Miller,” you reply, forcing a grin.

He chuckles quietly as he opens the passenger door for you. Your eyes dart to the backseat as you get in, the bench seat piled with pillows and blankets and a six-pack of beer.

“What’s all that?” you ask, gesturing towards the back as he gets into the driver’s seat. A broad grin spreads across his mouth as he shifts into drive, pulling away from the curb.

“Some place I wanna show you.”

You’re both quiet as he drives, your hands linked together on the gearshift, the Led Zeppelin cassette you’d bought him playing low over the truck’s speakers. Your eyes wander; the dark sky ahead, the blur of streetlights and traffic lights as he takes you out of the suburbs. Joel turns the truck away from the city when he reaches the highway, the bright lights giving way to telephone poles and occasional houses, sprawling farmland and wide open spaces.

Your gaze always seems to come back to him, the way his eyes are glued to the road ahead, the way he occasionally lifts your links hands and kisses your knuckles, the way he hums along with the song that’s playing. It does nothing to ease the ache in your chest, and you slump sideways a little, leaning your head on his shoulder as he drives.

It’s a long time before he pulls down a dirt road, trees lining either side for about a mile before cutting off, revealing giant fields, dotted with trees. He stops the truck in a large clearing, the wheels kicking up dust as he hits the brakes, cuts the engine. “C’mon, darlin’.”

You’re speechless as you slide out of the truck, your gaze immediately pulled upwards. The sky is dark and bigger than you’ve ever felt it, a perfect ombré from black to navy to a lighter shade of blue towards the horizon. The moon hangs bright above you, a perfect crescent shape smudged with a few clouds in an otherwise clear sky.

And the stars.

The sight makes you cover your mouth with your hands, your eyes wide and lined with tears as you stare up at them. You’ve never seen so many of them, the light pollution from the city always blocking most of them out. But here? You can see every single one.

You almost jump when Joel comes up behind you, slipping his arms around your waist and tugging you back against his chest. He pecks your cheek softly before straightening, resting his chin on top of your head and staring up with you. “Really is somethin’, isn’t it?”

“Joel, it’s beautiful,” you whisper, leaning back into him, revelling in his warmth. “How did you find this spot?”

“Tommy told me about it, actually,” he murmurs, his mouth against the crown of your head. “Told him I wanted to bring you somewhere special and he brought me out here. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to bring you.”

You shake your head slowly, unable to pull your eyes from the night sky, a new star appearing every time you blink. You can make out different constellations, the North Star, the few planes dotting the atmosphere.

“C’mon,” Joel whispers, squeezing you softly. “Let’s get comfy.”

It doesn’t take long, the pair of you gathering the pillows and blankets from the backseat and piling them into the truck’s empty bed. You sit quietly for a while, Joel cracking open a beer for each of you, you sitting between his spread knees, leaning back against his chest.

You’re half-sure he can hear the way your breathing shakes, see the way your hands twitch when he threads his fingers with yours. You chew the inside of your cheek until it bleeds, the beer making pain spark the inside of your mouth, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest, the heaviness that’s set up shop.

You have to tell him.

You turn to look at him, but before you can get a word out, he’s kissing you, diving his hand into your hair, pressing his mouth to yours. You can’t help but sigh into it, sinking into the delicious warmth he offers, the taste you’re trying to commit to memory, the feeling of safety and comfort that always seems to find you when he’s around.

“Joel, wait, I—” you start, but words tumble out of his mouth before you can stop him.

“I’m falling in love with you,” he says, his voice soft, a low rumble that seeps into your chest, doubles the ache that’s already there, the happy-mixed-with-sad that lines your eyes with tears. He sees them, you know he does, because he adjusting himself instantly, your face between his hands, swiping the tear from your cheek as it falls. “Baby, what’s wrong? I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“I have to tell you something,” you murmur, your voice cracking on the words, and your heart nearly snaps in two at the expression on his face, the furrowed brow and the concerned glint in his eyes.

You applied for the internship in Boston fresh out of college. One of your professors recommended you for the position, you did the interview before moving to Austin, and when you hadn’t heard back after a few weeks, you let yourself forget about it, content to spend your summer with your family, to figure your life out later. You still had time; you didn’t have to get it all figured out yet.

But then…

“They called me today,” you tell him, sinking back as his hands slowly drop, leaving your skin tingling where he’d been touching you. “They had a last minute opening, someone backed out, and they said it’s mine if I want it. I…” You trail off, shaking your head, dropping it back on your shoulders and staring up at the beautiful sky he’s shown you. “I don’t know what to do, Joel.”

When you finally find the strength to look at him again, you’re surprised your heart doesn’t burst from your chest. He has his fist pressed to his mouth, other arm resting on his knee, his eyes boring into you. There are tears in them, his lashes clumped together beneath his eyes, and you bottom lip quivers.

“I never expected you,” you say quietly, feeling another hot tear slide down your cheek. “I never anticipated coming here and meeting you, falling for y—”

He cuts you off, his hand flashing out and curling around the back of your neck, pulling you into his arms. You go willingly, collapsing into his chest with a sob, curling your hands in the fabric of his t-shirt. You stay like that for a long while, Joel rocking you side to side, one hand rubbing shapes between your shoulder blades. Face pressed into the curve of his neck, you cry until the collar of his shirt is soaked, the unfairness of it all crawling up your throat each time you think you’re okay.

Finally, you get the question out. “What are we gonna do, Joel?”

He tugs on your hair lightly, making you tilt your head back against his shoulder, so he can see your face. The streaks of wet on his cheek makes you whimper, reaching up and rubbing your thumb through the trails. “We’re gonna keep doin’ what we’re doin’,” he tells you, his mouth twitching as he scratches his nails against your scalp. “We’ve got the rest of the summer, right?” You nod, fresh tears filling your eyes. “And then you’re gonna go to Boston. I won’t let you throw this away, baby, not for me.”

“Joel—” you start to protest, but he quiets you with a soft kiss, thumb pressed to your cheek.

“No, baby,” he murmurs, lifting his jaw and kissing your forehead next. “It’ll be okay. Won’t let you go until I have to, you hear me?”

+

He stays true to his word.

The rest of the summer is spent in each other’s company, every chance you get. You go to bars with him and Tommy some evenings, spend more nights in the bed of Joel’s truck, staring up at the stars. He keeps up appearances at the hardware store, still kisses you with the same insistence he had before you told him about Boston.

There’s something different between you, you know. A sort of anticipation, both of you waiting for the other shoe to drop, but adamant to enjoy the time you have left. There are evidently more tears, but Joel does his best to kiss them away, and you let yourself get a little lost in him, refusing to count the days, just savouring every moment you have.

You meet Sarah accidentally. You thought Joel had said six, he thought seven, and when you knock on the Miller’s front door, you’re more than surprised when Sarah opens the door, her head cocked to the side, eyes that are a dead ringer for Joel’s peering at you.

“Who are you?”

Joel appears behind his daughter a moment later, balking at you slightly as he puts a hand on her shoulder. “Honey, this is my…” He pauses, searching for the right word.

You stick out your hand, offering it to Sarah, along with your name. “I’m a good friend of your dad’s,” you say, the word making you want to cry, but you school your face into a smile. “You know the hardware store down on Main Street?”

Sarah perks up, her eyes shining up at you as Joel moves her to the side to let you in. “Next to the ice cream parlour?”

The next smile you have is genuine. “That’s the one.”

She warms up to you quickly, talking a mile a minute, insisting she show you her soccer trophy and disappearing up the stairs to go get it. Joel grabs your hand once she’s out of sight, tugging you against his chest and kissing your cheek. “You didn’t have to say that,” he mumbles, and you knock your forehead lightly into his. “I could have—”

“No,” you reply, shaking your head. “It’ll just confuse her; I don’t want that.”

He nods, agreeing with you, but the sadness in his eyes makes your chest ache.

“Here it is!” Sarah declares as she bounds down the stairs, the gold trophy shining in the kitchen light. You and Joel nearly spring apart, and you gasp as animatedly as you can.

Tommy arrives a half hour later to take Sarah, and you nearly fall over when she throws her arms around your waist, hugging you goodbye after Joel pecks her on the head. “Bye!”

“Bye, Sarah,” you say, and as soon as she’s out the door with Tommy, you sink into the kitchen chair, putting your face in your hands. Joel sinks into a crouch in front of you, a warm hand on your knee, rubbing a slow circle.

“Baby,” he murmurs, and you collapse forward, throwing your arms around his neck.

“I don’t wanna go,” you tell him.

It’s tomorrow. Your time is up, the summer almost officially over. The lease on your new apartment in Boston starts at midnight, and you’re leaving late in the morning, the two-day trek to your new city already making you anxious. Your stuff is already packed, a few boxes already loaded into the truck of your car, proof that this is actually happening. But knowing you’re leaving him? That hits harder.

“I know, darlin’,” he drawls in your ear, a crack to his voice that makes you sob. He puts both arms around your torso, and your legs wrap around his middle, ankles locked against his back. You keep your face buried in his throat as he lifts you, hands under your ass as he turns towards the stairs, carries you up them.

You stand in the centre of his bedroom a moment later, chewing at your thumb as he walks to the window, pulls the drapes until just a sliver of sunlight fits through them. The sun is already starting to set, the days growing shorter, and the thought of winter in Boston, winter without Joel to keep you warm, brings fresh tears to your eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to cup your jaw as he comes to stand in front of you, catching your gaze and holding it. “Don’t think about tomorrow, yeah? Just be with me. Please?”

You just nod.

It’s slow, slower than you’ve yet to have him. Clothes come off a piece at a time, hands mapping out bare skin as soon as it’s revealed, mouth pressed to the curves of bones and the slopes of muscles. You memorize the pattern of his freckles, the smatter along his neck, the few that dot his cheeks. He holds you in his arms, kisses every inch of your face, catching your tears on his tongue, murmuring softly to you that it’s okay.

That he loves you.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he told you, a few days after you told him about Boston. He was holding your hand, the two of you cuddled together on his couch, his thumb rubbing your knuckles. “I don’t expect you to, or anythin’, I just…I just want you to know.”

But you couldn’t stop yourself from saying it then, and you can’t stop it now. It bubbles up out of you, want and need and desperation heavy on your tongue as you hold each other. Passion hangs in the air like electricity, sparking brighter with every move you make.

You revel in every single moment, when he spreads you out on his bed, the mattress familiar beneath you, you commit it to memory, the way he looks between your knees, the bulk of his frame, the way his hair is messy from your fingers, the way his eyes stay glued to yours as he touches you, rubs his thumb over your nerves, laves his tongue over your heat.

You return it in kind, pushing him down on the mattress after he’s made you cum twice, once on his fingers, then again on his tongue. He groans when you push his thighs wide, making a home for yourself between them, nipping at every bit of skin you can reach. He locks both hands in your hair when you take his cock in your mouth, fingers curling around the bit you can’t fit. The salty taste of him is welcome, and you refuse to let up, letting him hit the back of your throat, bobbing your head until he’s cumming down your throat, hot and thick.

You catch your breath for a few minutes, crawling up his body, hooking your knee over his hip as he holds you, kisses you, brushes the hair from your face. “My pretty baby,” he murmurs, and you do your best to ignore the twinge in your chest, “beautiful girl.”

It’s not long until he’s hard again, your kisses and moans and touches bringing his body back to life. He pulls you on top of him completely, pushes himself into you. You grip the headboard with both hands, sighing when he leans up and bites at your nipple. He starts slow, his hands on your hips guiding you along him, the feeling sparking up your spine just this side of not enough.

“Tell me, baby,” he grunts at you, one hand dropping slightly, giving you a light spank that makes you jolt, clenching down on him. “You want it harder?”

“Yes,” you beg, breathing his air as his pace slows almost completely. “Joel, baby, please.”

“C’mere.” He pulls at your arms, yanks you down until you’re chest to chest. Then he plants his feet on the mattress, one arm around your waist, the other banded around your shoulders, hand in your hair.

He fucks you hard, hips pistoning up into you, slamming his cock deep, hitting against that gummy spot that makes your entire body quake. You’ve never cum as hard as you do, your entire body going completely taut for one blinding moment, your blood turned to flame in a drawn-out instant. He nips at your lips, up your jaw, nibbles at your earlobe.

“That’s my girl,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ made for me, weren’t you?”

You nod frantically, your eyes hazy, every single one of your nerves prickled with pleasure as he keeps hammering into you. You don’t want this to stop, it can’t stop, please don’t ever let it stop—

A flash, and you’re flipped on your back, his cock still pressed so deep you can feel it in your throat. You grip him hard, nails digging into his hips so hard you’re half sure you’re going to draw blood, but he doesn’t seem to care. He just keeps going, bracing one arm over your head, mashing his mouth to yours as he drives into you, his brow furrowed.

You feel him shudder, feel that spread of warmth through your lower half, hear him murmur your name. Feel your heart shatter into a million pieces when he kisses you softly, drags the tip of his nose against yours, murmurs those three words again.

Neither of you move, for a long while. You stay there, him still pressed inside you, your legs spread around his body, your arms folded around his neck. Soft kisses are shared, quiet sweet nothings traded until your eyes fill with tears again.

“It’s okay, baby,” he tells you, catching your tears on his thumb, pressing his mouth to your jaw. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You’re starting to wonder who he’s trying to convince.

“Tommy agreed to take Sarah for the night,” Joel tells you when you return from the bathroom, one of his t-shirts covering your upper half. “So you can stay,” he pauses, rubs his hand up the back of his head, “if you want to.”

You throw yourself back into his bed, curling around him. “Of course I want to.”

+

Your eyes blink open the next morning, and the dread sinks in completely.

Joel’s breath is hot on the nape of your neck. He’s sprawled on his back, one arm extended beneath your head. You turn immediately, curling into his side, pressing your face into his neck. “Mmm,” he grumbles, putting both arms around you, turning his mouth against your forehead. “Your nose is cold.”

“You’re just warm,” you grumble back, kissing his throat, letting your hand roam his chest, over his stomach.

You rub your palm across his hips, and he groans, lifting his hand to bury it in your hair. “D’we have time?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep, and you lift your head, bleary eyes squinting at the alarm clock.

“Yeah,” you tell him, settling back against him. “We have time.”

He makes love to you. Every moment is a slow drag, the complete opposite of the fast and rough you’d had the night before. But somehow, it’s exactly what you need, feeling him deeper, holding him closer. You’re memorizing every moment, every rise and dip to his outline, the way his mouth tastes, the way he moves.

You don’t want to let go, but you know you have to.

You make breakfast together, toaster waffles and coffee, sat at his kitchen table with quiet conversation. After you’ve eaten, you get dressed, stealing another flannel from his closet, a light blue with white and grey. “You stealin’ more of my clothes?” he asks, coming up behind you, kissing the side of your neck.

“I’ll give the other one back,” you reply, doing up the buttons. “Gotta take a little piece of you with me.”

“Keep ‘em both,” he murmurs against your skin, squeezing your hip. “They’re yours.”

You stomach is in knots as you leave Joel’s, as he drives the short distance from his house to yours. Your arms are wrapped around one of his, your face pressed against his shoulder. “All your stuff packed?” he asks, and you nod, biting back the tears that are already starting to form. He parks at the curb, cuts the engine, and lifts his arm, letting you slide under it, bringing you close to him. He kisses your temple, inhaling deeply, and you just sit there for a while, arms wrapped around each other, breathing slow.

It’s slow, as you get out of the truck. He opens the door for you like always, and when you’re reluctant to get out, he grabs your legs and drags you to the edge of the seat, letting you wrap your limbs around him as he lifts you out. He sets you on your feet on the curb, his brow lifting as he turns back to the truck. “I have somethin’ for you.”

You let out a little laugh as he reaches into the backseat and produces a silver baseball bat, a bright red bow wrapped around the handle. “What’s this for?” you ask, unable to stifle your giggles as he hands it to you.

“Boston’s a big city,” he mumbles, lifting a shoulder. “Keep it by your bed or something, just in case.” He reaches out, fingers on your cheek. “Keep yourself safe, yeah?”

You swing the bat lightly, a quick flick of your wrist. “Thank you.”

He blushes a little, opening his arms again when you lean the bat against the truck, stepping back into his embrace. You bury yourself in his chest, arms tight around his waist. “I’ll try and visit,” he says into your hair, inhaling lightly. Tears spring in your eyes again; you appreciate the sentiment, but you don’t expect him to drive cross-country, not when he has Sarah and his life and his job. And you know he couldn’t afford the plane ticket.

“I’ll be home at Christmas, hopefully,” you whisper back, and he nods.

“Call me when you get there?” he asks, and you lift your head to look at him. “And when you stop for the night.”

“Yes, Joel.”

“Don’t let those corporate assholes work you too hard and…” His voice drops, and you lift a hand to cup his cheek, your thumb riding edge of his beard. “Don’t forget about this, please? About us.”

“Can’t do that,” you tell him, a sad smile on your lips. A memory buzzes in the back of your hand, the two of you stood opposite sides of the counter at the hardware store. The worry of rejection crawling up the back of your throat when you’d boldly offered your number, when you told him you could just forget what had happened. Can’t do that.

“Maybe someday…” he starts, trailing off and you just nod, repeating his words.

He kisses you then, both arms tight around you, his mouth warm and tasting of toothpaste and that mistakable Joel Miller taste you know you won’t soon forget. He kisses you until you’re not quite sure where he ends and you begin, but you don’t care. You’re half sure your parents are watching from the window, but you don’t care.

It’s a long time before either of you pulls back, holding on as long as you possibly can.

“Take care of yourself, baby,” he mumbles in your ear, and you squeeze your eyes shut, holding him as tightly as you can.

“You, too.”

+

And then, two years later, nearly to the day, the world implodes.

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[orions-tears]

Billywing Stings - Ominis Gaunt

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x fem!Hufflepuff!Reader

Themes: fluff, Ominis being protective and a lil mean to Garreth

A/N: I love Garreth tbh I want more. I hope you guys like this one :)

“Hi, Ominis!” you chime, tugging on the blond boy’s sleeve.

He turns toward you and smiles. “Hello, (Y/N). How did class go for you?”

You shrug and sigh, looping your arm through his. “It was alright. My potions were good, but I got in trouble with Professor Sharp.”

He frowns and touches your hand. “Don’t tell me you helped Garreth with that disaster…”

You laugh lightly, scratching your head. “Maybe…but he was so nice! How could I say no, Ominis?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “By saying no, (Y/N). Garreth is only trouble. I don’t want you to keep getting in trouble because he’s nice.”

You smile and nod. You know he’s right, but when someone corners you, you can’t say no. Well…he didn’t corner you, but you were alone and that was enough pressure. You agree with Ominis and the two of you walk together to the library.

***

You’ve been thinking about what Ominis said the other day about Garreth. You keep getting in trouble with professors for helping people and it’s really weighing on you.

“No. Sorry,” you whisper to yourself. “No, I’m busy. No, then I’m lying and that’s worse. No, I can’t. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t.”

You shake your head as you walk up the stairs to the Great Hall entrance.

“I feel so mean!” you say loudly, rubbing your hands on your face.

You turn around to see the red-headed boy leaning against the wall. You walk over to him, holding your hands behind your back.

“Hello, Garreth! What do you need?”

“Well after getting me that fwooper feather, I thought you’d be just the person I need.”

Oh boy. You want to help Garreth, but knowing him, it’ll be something bad. You listen to him explain his plan and thinking for a moment.

“Why can’t I just buy the billywing stings?”

He shakes his head, folding his arms. “If I wanted to buy them I would, but this plan is much better. Besides, you’re great at being stealthy.”

You look around to see if anyone was listing and spin your hair in your fingers. “I mean I guess I could get it.”

He grins and claps his hands together. “Awesome! I knew you’d help me. Thanks, (Y/N).”

With that, he runs off, leaving you in the stairwell. You sigh and turn towards the stairs. You really don’t want to end up in trouble for this. Getting in trouble with Professor Sharp was already enough. You quickly run to the Undercroft and look around. One of them must be here. You walk around, peering around the pillars and sigh, sliding down one onto the floor. What are you going to do? You hold your head in your hands until you hear the gate open. You spin around and see Ominis walking in.

“Ominis!” you shout as you run over.

His eyes widen in surprise. He must not have known you were in here. He smiles and holds his free hand out to you.

“Hello, (Y/N). How are you?”

You take his hand in yours and frown. “Can I hug you, Ominis?”

He furrows his brows and turns his face toward the ground. After a few seconds he turns back to you and nods. You hug him tightly and shut your eyes. You feel him stiffen at the contact but a second later he softens and hugs you back.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, softly, sensing your distress.

You pull away and look down, picking at your fingers. “Do you know of a one-eyed witch statue?”

He puts his wand away, resting his hands on his hips. “A one-eyed witch statue? Yes…Why?”

You bite your lip, pulling at the skin and run your hands through your hair. “There’s a passageway to Honeydukes beneath the statue…”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Please don’t tell me this Is for Garreth. What in Merlin’s beard could you need that for?”

“Billywing stings…?”

He’s silent for a moment as he thinks about what you said.

“You’re not stealing them…are you?”

You don’t respond but he knows the answer.

“(Y/N)! Why would you agree?” he says, voice rising slightly. “I told you Garreth was bad news.”

“I know, but he’s nice to me! I tried! I was practicing like you told me and then he asked and said buying them would be too hard…”

When the words come out of your mouth you realise. First of all, how would he know if you’ve bought them or not? Second, how is that the hard part? Ominis puts his hands over his face, groaning. You know he’s looking out for you, but you hate disappointing people. If you do it, you disappoint Ominis. If you don’t you disappoint Garreth. You whimper quietly and crouch down, hands over your head.

Ominis pulls out his wand and walks over, kneeling next to you. “(Y/N), I know you want to help, but I can’t let you do this.”

You look up at him, frowning. “Can I just buy them for him?”

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t get them at all. Garreth is trouble and the more you help him, the more he’ll ask for things like this. He knows that a Hufflepuff is loyal and he'll use it against you.”

You nod and sigh. “You’re right….”

“I’ll talk to him.”

You gasp and grab him. “Please don’t be mean! Garreth is nice!”

He’s silent for a moment and stands. “I promise I won’t be mean.”

You watch him walk out of the Undercroft and sit down. Merlin, you hope he isn’t mean…

***

“Garreth,” Ominis growls, walking up to the boy.

Garreth had been in the viaduct courtyard, talking to Everett. He spins around to see Ominis.

“Yes?”

Ominis walks up, wand pointed at him. Garreth holds his arms up in defense, slightly afraid. Ominis opens his mouth to speak but sighs, putting his wand away. He can’t be mean, he promised.

“Leave (Y/N) alone, Garreth.”

Garreth furrows his brows and leans against the stone railing. “What have I done?”

“She keeps getting in trouble because of you. If you want to be her friend, I can’t stop you. She sees you as a friend. Stop asking her for favors or I won’t be so polite anymore.”

Garreth opens his mouth as if to say something but shuts it, looking at Everett. Everett shrugs and Garreth looks back at Ominis.

“Alright…I didn’t realise she was upset about it. I’ll stop.”

Ominis pokes him in the chest. “You swear it, Weasley?”

Garreth nods. “I swear it, Gaunt.”

Ominis scowls and turns away, grabbing his wand and leaving. He really hoped that worked.

***

You hear a shift in the chair next to you and pick you head up. You had been taking a small nap in the library, avoiding Garreth. Ominis has sat down next to you.

“Hello, (Y/N),” he says, smiling.

You grin and grab his sleeve. “Hi, Ominis!”

“You can forget the billywing stings.”

You gasp and lean in. “Please tell me you weren’t mean!”

He’s silent as he presses his lips together. “I don’t think I was.”

You stare at him and rub your hands on your knees. “Alright…I trust you…”

He smiles and pushes his shoulder into you. “I was thinking about getting some fudge flies. Would you like to join me?”

You giggle lightly and nod. “Absolutely. I want a chocolate frog and maybe I won’t get Ignatia Wildsmith this time,” you say, groaning.

Tag list!

Let me know if you want to be added or removed! Also let me know if you want a specific fic or all :)

@blueberrydinosaur @kuukimeioo @sometimesidreamthaticanlevatate @thenerdysimp @sarahskywalker-amadala @amatchasky @zyuyea @lonadane

[angel-inrealtime]

November F1c Prompts Day 13

Day 13 - Tactile (Rough/Coarse)

By the afternoons, even if he shaves first thing in the morning, Daniel always has the shadow of a beard on his jaw. You like him best a bit scruffy, soft around the edges, though you’re not sure you’ve ever said it in so many words; you don’t think he’s less handsome without it, it’s just different.

There’s just something about the coarse feeling of his beard against your cheek, or scratching your nails through it. It’s soothing in its roughness.

He must have had other people complain about it before, though, the way sometimes in the mornings, in the few stolen moments before either of you are properly awake, he keeps his face pulled back a bit. He’s careful, kissing your neck, not to press too close, lest the friction rub the soft skin raw the same way he’s careful not to linger in one spot so he doesn’t leave a mark.

There’s part of you that wants it though, you’re not ashamed to admit it.

The black and yellow race suit fits like a glove, just like they’re made to do. Hugs his slim waist and skims the curves down his hips and thighs. He must feel you watching him across the garage where you’re perched with Blake, carefully out of the way, because he looks up and throws you a wink and an easy smile.

You’re enjoying watching him rise to a challenge, now that it’s not fuelled by resentment.

Nothing could be as bad as the start of the season, the tirade after Melbourne that wasn’t directed at you but caught you in its path anyway until you slammed out of the hotel room and heard him curse from the other side of the door. “Wait...babe. I’m...” Slim fingers around your wrist stopping your path to the lifts. “That was shitty of me. I’m a cunt, sorry.”

“You’re behaving like a cunt.” You corrected almost on autopilot. “You aren’t one, and you know how not to be one. But you’re behaving like one.”

“And I’m sorry. It’s not...” He stepped closer to wrap his arms around you. “I’m not used to being...or to having someone see me like...this.”

“I was here last year, Daniel.” You reminded him.

“Yeah but now we’re...” He trailed off.

“Is it so different?” You sounded tired even to your own ears.

“Maybe not.” He conceded, after a while, murmured into your hair. “Let me make it up to you?” The stubble on his jaw scratched against your collarbone.

“Hey space cadet.” You jump a little, finding him right in front of you back in real time. Daniel cocks his head to the side, questioning look in his eyes. “You okay?”

You grin, taking in his handsome face up close. The freckles from European summer, crows feet at the corners of honeyed brown eyes framed with long lashes. You scratch your nails (painted black and shaped to points, still done for an event the week before) across his cheeks where he’s let his beard grow out more than he normally does. “Wonderful.”

“Were you daydreaming about me?” He asks, cheesy and leaning into your touch.

“Something like that.” You tease.

Not to be outdone, he raises an eyebrow. “You know, I’ve got some free time now. If you want to come hang out.”

“I miss no sex on race weekends Daniel.” Blake mutters, just loud enough for the two of you to hear.

You can’t help laughing, even as you tangle your fingers with his and leave the garage.

-

Blake raises an eyebrow when he meets up with you in the hospitality area, running a hand through your hair. He touches the irritated skin on your neck with one finger. “Beard burn to go with the sex hair, nice.”

You elbow him, cheeks pink. “Fuck off.”

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part 5

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Three Summary: Lori asks the Brothers if she can make a phone call and finds herself having to deal with her feelings for Sy.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.7k

Warnings:

Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Three Warnings: Mild smut, fluff, some angst.

Authors Note: I'm feeling better these days. Thank you for your support, I know I'm way behind on comments and reblogs but I will get to them. Thanks to @henryobsessed and @nashibirne for beta reading this chapter.

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Four Part Six

Lori

I woke up feeling warmed to my core by a soothing heavy heat. It took me a moment to remember why.

Sy.

It had been a few years since I’d actually spent a night sleeping next to a man. Jake and I rarely slept together other than short naps between sessions. 

Oh shit. I forgot about Jake.

I’d have to try and call him. Although the thing between Jake and I was casual, I didn’t feel right standing him up. In the hasty way Sy had made me leave last night and then what happened when we got to the hotel, I’d forgotten about Jake and our plan to hook up tonight. I hadn’t seen him since my parents had died. He had given me the space I wanted and I appreciated that.

I wondered briefly how I would broach the subject of calling him with the Brothers, but then I felt Sy move, and all thoughts of Jake went away.

“Mornin’ Babycakes,” Sy murmured.

“You stayed,” I said, and I lifted my hand to his bearded cheek. 

“Toldja I would.”

“Thank you.” 

In the bright lights of the morning, I felt embarrassed about my behaviour last night; it's not like me to cry like that. I can’t believe I actually asked him to sleep with me and I had half thought he’d be gone when I woke. But he had stayed.

I lowered my eyes as self-consciousness crept in. All that did was make my ears burn hotter as I saw his chest pressed against mine. He had an amazing body, muscular though not cut, a nicely defined shape, broad at the shoulders and narrowing slightly at his waist. He was hairy across his chest and abdomen, and thoroughly covered in tattoos of all different styles and sizes. His nipple piercings were a tantalising surprise, and made me bite my lip as I wondered if he liked them played with.

I felt his finger under my chin and as I raised my gaze he smiled kindly as if he was trying to tell me my embarrassment was unnecessary. I smiled back and scratched at his beard while he inhaled deeply and his eyes flickered closed. Then they flung open and he shook my hand off his face. 

“Walker’s here.”

I lifted my head and saw the same moustached smirk on his too handsome face as I saw last night.

“Good morning,” Walker said evenly. “I assume you slept well. You must have been tired, you barely stirred.” 

There was a subtle dig in his statement. I didn’t know what he meant and it made his smirk seem even more lecherous. 

“We’ll be leaving shortly. You should get ready,” Walker said but he made no move to leave.

“Give’r some privacy Walker. Let her get dressed,” Sy growled.

Walker raised an eyebrow but stood, straightening his jacket and rolling his neck. 

“Breakfast is on its way. Meeting in my room in an hour. We leave from there,” Walker addressed Syverson, pointedly ignoring me and walked out the door.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Walker made me nervous in a way I wasn’t used to with men. When he looked at me I felt like he couldn’t care less about me, while simultaneously wondering what I’d look like naked.

Suddenly I realised what made Walker smirk at me like that. “He thinks we slept together.”

“We did,” Syverson said, grinning.

I rolled my eyes. “I mean, he thinks we…”

“Fucked?”

“Yeah.”

I felt myself blushing while Sy shrugged.

“Probably. The others know nothin’ happened.”

I bit my lip. Well, not exactly nothing happened. There was that moment we almost kissed and we were currently tangled up together. Sy’s heavy thigh was between mine and it would only take a slight movement from him and it’d be pressed up against my core.

Syverson tucked his fingers under my jaw and lifted my chin. Why did he keep doing that and why did I like it?

“I feel a little silly about last night,” I explained.

“Feel fine to me,” Syverson said, smirking. Squeezing me and drawing me closer he added in a low voice, “real fine.”

My body felt shaky and my fingers trembled. God those arms of his felt good. All of him felt good; the coarse hair across his chest, the way his pecs flexed against my body as he drew me closer, the weight of his arms and legs. He was so big I had assumed he’d be rough and brutish, but the way he touched me so gently made me feel delicate and wanted. So much about him was unexpected.

I could see myself falling for him and falling deeply. Who was I kidding? I was already falling and falling fast.

His gaze was darkening, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth, and he let it slip out of his teeth slowly. For a few beats there was silence as his stare burned into me. His breath started getting harder, audible through his slightly flaring nose.

“I want to kiss you,” he said.

My breath was as laboured as his, my heartbeat thundered in my chest and a warmth spread through my body from deep within my centre. I couldn’t speak, I just kept staring at him.

“But I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

I did. So fucking much. I wanted to close my eyes and lean into him, feel those undoubtedly soft lips on mine, and on my neck, and my breasts.

“We better get up,” I said softly.

If Syverson was disappointed, he didn’t show it. He simply dipped his head and let me go.

I slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth with vigour, trying to calm myself down. It wasn’t easy.

When I came out Syverson was starting breakfast. He was dressed, sans guns which were sitting on the small dining table. It had been a while since I had been around guns so casually. Even spending time at the clubhouse, guns were strapped to bodies or hung on walls, not flung on tables. But there they were, sitting amongst our eggs and bacon.

He looked up from concentrating on buttering the toast he laid out on his plate and handed me a cup of coffee.

“Thanks.” I took a sip then made a face. 

“Awful ain’t it?” Syverson chuckled.

“Terrible,” I agreed, smiling, but I took another sip. 

“Want me to butter your bread?” he asked with a suggestive smirk.

“You’re disgusting,” I replied with a laugh and shook my head. “I can do it.”

“No trouble. Doin’ mine anyway.”

“Okay,”

“Here, have these ones,” he lifted the plate for me to take the finished slices, but pulled it back quickly, “Hold up, want them cut?”

“You gonna cut the crusts off for me too?” I teased.

Sy grinned, a faint redness blossomed on his cheeks, “If ya want me to, li’l girl.”

“I’m not a little girl,” I said petulantly, playing along.

“I know,” he said, still grinning. His eyes wandered slowly over my body.

My mouth felt dry and I quickly took a big gulp of my coffee to break myself from his gaze.

We ate in silence. Sy ate quickly, much quicker than me and sipped on his coffee watching me eat. I kept sneaking glances at him and each time I found his eyes on me.

I was nervous as we entered Walker’s room. Despite his reassurances, I was sure the guys would see me differently. I don’t know if they believed we hadn’t actually had sex, and worried they would look at me like Walker had. Plus, I felt that even though we hadn’t actually fucked, my desire to would be written all over my face. Sy had to practically drag me in, and I held his hand in a firm grip.

He had been right though. Every face except Walker’s turned to me as I entered the room, each one seemed friendly and genuine. Mike’s grin was comically big, and he patted the bed next to him. 

“Saved ya a spot.”

Sy let my hand go and I snuck a peek at him. He smiled and nodded his head towards Mike. 

“Go on,” Sy said, almost indulgently. I was confused by his response, but he folded his arms and gestured towards Mike again.

Mike’s grin grew bigger, and he snuck a quick kiss on my cheek as I sat beside him. I blushed and laughed at his boldness turning away quickly and Mike chuckled. I cautiously raised my eyes to Sy who just shrugged and gave me one of his silly winks.

Walker cleared his throat, throwing a hard look at me. The room grew serious, and the meeting began. He outlined his plan for the day, laid out a few contingencies, including what to do if we separated. It was agreed I would ride with Sy, but I noticed a slight disdain in his voice. They confirmed stop points, and where they planned to spend the night.

“Any questions?” Walker asked as the toolbox meeting rounded up.

I looked around the room, all the Brothers were shaking their heads. 

“I have one,” I said softly.

“You’re here as a courtesy, not for operational input,” Walker said dismissively.

“It’s not about that. It’s personal.”

Walker sighed like he had no time for personal matters and made a hurry up gesture.

“Can I make a phone call?”

“We’ve already told your brother of your status,” he said.

“Thank you. But no, I don’t mean Nate.”

“We’ve organised time off work.”

“It’s a friend.”

“Your brother contacted your friends, letting them know of a family emergency.”

I swallowed hard and looked at the floor. “He doesn’t know about this one,” I said softly.

“Boyfriend?” Sy asked with a hint of hurt. I looked at him and his face reflected his tone.

“We weren’t told about a boyfriend,” Walker frowed. He didn't seem upset because I may have a boyfriend, he seemed pissed off that something was kept from him that could fuck up his operation.

“He’s not my boyfriend…” I paused trying to find the right words to explain Jake. “It’s not exactly a relationship you’d tell your brother about.”

“Oooh. Kinky,” Mike piped up. Marshall smacked the back of his head, and I suppressed a grin despite how I felt.

“No. It’s…” My eyes went to Sy; I wanted him to understand for some reason. Why do I care what he thinks of me? What any of them think of me for that matter? “Just not… committed… we’re…”

“Friends,” Sy suggested softly. I nodded and he smiled. 

“Fuck buddies,” Mike spoke again, raising his hand like he wanted to hi-five me, “Nice.” 

Geralt smacked his head this time, giving him a low growl.

Walker seemed to have had enough and sighed. “Call him. Syverson, let her use your phone and monitor the call. Make sure she gives nothing away.” I opened my mouth to protest but he talked over me, “You’ll have access to a phone when we get to the clubhouse. But no phone calls with anyone except your brother. You contact anyone else and your phone privileges will be revoked. Do we have an understanding?”

I crossed my arms beneath my breasts and did my best impersonation of a thirteen year old girl. “Yes Daddy.” 

I heard snickers from Sy and Mikey. August raised his eyebrow, so I stuck out my tongue. Geralt and Walter joined the chorus of muffled chortles.

“Get her the fuck out of here Syverson, before I show her just how strict this Daddy can be.” 

The lurid look in his eyes made my eyes widen slightly before I schooled my features. He saw though. He fucking saw and he smirked. I felt my face start to burn so I stood and turned away quickly, going straight for the door. Sy followed me out, closing the door behind him.

But not before I heard August chuckle.

Still fuming by the time we got back to the room, I snatched the phone out of Sy’s hand and looked around for some privacy.

“Sit,” Sy said firmly, “And put it on speaker.”

His tone made me pause, “Are you mad at me?”

“No, Babycakes,” he said, reaching out to cup my neck, his thumb caressing my cheek. “Next time you need something, you come to me,” he paused like he just thought of something and added, “Or Marshall or Geralt if I ain’t around, ‘kay?”

“Okay, Sy.”

“Good girl,” he said.

His off handed praise made me bite my lip. Fuck, the tension between us was mounting to the point where I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist him if he tried anything. As I looked at him, I almost regretted saying no to the kiss this morning. And the offer he made last night.

“Make the call,” he said roughly, leaning back into the chair.

A little rattled myself, I tapped in Jake’s number. It rang so long I thought he wasn’t going to pick up. I’d have to send him a text or something. Breaking up via text is not what he deserves, even if he was just a casual hook up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jake. It’s Lori. How are you?”

“Great. Why are you calling from a private number? You ok?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good, that’s good, babygirl,” his voice dropped to a deeper tone. “Looking forward to seeing you again. I keep thinking about how good your pus—”

“Yeah, uh, here’s the thing,” I interrupted quickly. My face felt like it was on fire, and I consciously avoided looking at Sy.

“Uh oh. You’re cancelling.”

“Yeah, uh…” Fuck, I had no idea what to say to him. “I shouldn’t have said yes in the first place. I’m not… I’m not really in a good headspace.”

“Your parents?” he asked softly, concern evident in his tone.

A lump formed in my throat. I opened my mouth to reply, then shut it again. I made a noise that I hoped sounded like agreement. 

“I understand. Maybe I could come over and hang out at your place? No pressure to do anything, let's just hang out.” 

I panicked and looked at Sy.

Sy leaned in close and whispered lowly in my ear, “Tell him you’re stayin’ at the club house with your brother.”

“I’m not at my place, I’m staying with my brother,” I repeated.

“Oh, well you could still come to my place. Sounds like you need a friend and…” 

“Look, Jake, I said no.” My voice came out harsher than I expected. 

Why did Jake have to be so sweet all of a sudden? He changed when my parents died, calling me more often, wanting to see me. It dawned on me that he may have wanted more than just a causal relationship. I don’t know why but it made me angry.

“I’m sorry, I don't get it. What’s going on? A few days ago you said you were–”

“I don’t want to see you right now. I’m sorry, I… I’m going through some shit. I need space. I’m not…”

“Babygirl, Let me help you…”

“Jake this is what it is, nothing more. I’m sorry.” I ended the call and felt the sting of frustrated tears. Again. I quickly wiped my eyes, frustrated that I couldn’t keep my emotions in check.

Sy reached out and put his hand on my knee, giving me an almost fatherly pat.

“Friend, huh?” Sy asked with a sly grin.

“I didn’t know… It was only ever a hook up,” he humphed and I shook my head. “I feel like an asshole. He’s a nice guy.”

“Sometimes fuckin’ is just fuckin’,” Sy said rubbing my thigh gently. “Sometimes it’s more, and ya can’t always tell which one the other person thinks it is.” 

There was a sincerity to his tone that surprised me, but even more surprising was his gentleness, his kindness. He didn’t have to be. He is obviously interested in me, made several advances and… Oh.

“Is that what you want with me?” I asked softly, “Just fucking?”

Sy shook his head slowly. He put his hand on my nape and drew me close. His smile twitched and he looked like he was going to say something but he kept his mouth shut.

“Come ‘ere.” 

He patted his thigh and lifted his chin, beckoning me closer. I felt like I was having some kind of out of body experience. It was so unlike me, but when Sy wasn’t being flirty and got serious, my brain melted down and I couldn’t act, I couldn’t speak. All I could do was stare back at him. He put his hands on my hips and guided me to stand. I let him, and sat on his lap, my legs across his.

“You keep makin’ eyes at me, baby,” he said in a low gravelly voice and bounced me on his legs until I was sitting just so. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were tryin’ to tell me somethin’. Now, you tell me if I’m wrong, but I think you want to kiss me as much as I wanna kiss you.”

I looked away, feeling embarrassed at being so called out. I heard him chuckle and he cupped my cheek, slowly turning my head until I faced him again.

“You’re not wrong… but…”

“But what?” He said grinning broadly,

“I don’t date bikers,” I said. 

“I ain’t askin’ for a date.” 

I huffed. “Of course not, how stupid of me.”

He chuckled, “I don’t date clients.”

“But you do fuck them,” I retorted, completely aware of how petulant I sounded.

Sy shook his head. “I never have.”

“So what are you asking for?” 

His brows furrowed and for a moment he seemed genuinely confused. He opened his mouth to say something when there was a knock on the door and Mike stuck his head in. His eyes darted around then widened as he took in our position.

“You want somethin’, Mike?” Sy prompted, roughly.

“Walker says we’ve gotta go.”

Sy grimaced. “Tell him we’ll be out in a minute.” 

He waited until Mike left before he spoke again. 

“I care about ya, Lori. We all do.”

I nodded and hung my head, confusion muddling my thoughts until I couldn’t tell up from down. My throat felt tight and for a second I thought I might cry again.

“Hey,” Sy said, his drawl soft and hypnotic, “I don’t know where this can go, but since the first moment I saw ya I haven’t been able to getcha outta my head.”

He licked his lips and stared at mine as my tongue mimicked his actions. His arms tightened around me, and I closed my eyes. I couldn’t say no anymore, I wanted him too much, he’d invaded me and I couldn’t fight it anymore.

I felt his breath like a caress on my moistened lips and I waited but felt nothing. I opened my eyes.

“You sure?” he asked, “once I kiss ya, there’s no goin’ back for me.”

“Please, Sy,” I murmured, leaning my head down until our foreheads nearly touched.

His lips brushed mine, soft as suede, like he was still testing me. I felt the tension in his shoulders as I slid my hand up his arm to his neck. His beard tickled my cheeks, chin and nose and I felt its pleasant tingle through my nerves down my spine.

I moaned as he stroked my lips, parting them with gentle force until his tongue swept across them. I shivered and fire hit me between my legs as his velvety tongue slid over mine and I pulled him closer.

Then it was over, he pulled away with a mumbled curse. I felt light headed, dizzy, I don’t think I took a breath the whole time. I opened my eyes and saw that his were following the path of his hand down my arm.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered and I felt crushed. Then his fervent eyes met mine and he took my face in his hands then angled my head until my throat was bare to him. He kissed me there, speaking softly into my skin, “Shoulda waited ‘til we had more time.”

“Oh.” I said simply because like my breath, my words were gone.

“Fuck, we gotta go.”

He stood quickly, wrapping an arm around me, standing me up with him. He grabbed our bags and I dumbly followed behind, my fingers on my still tingling lips.

I glanced at him as he had his hand on the door and he turned his head. Abruptly he dropped the bags and pushed me against the wall, his lips on mine as his hand cradled my head.

This kiss was nothing like the last one. There was a desperation, a need as his tongue filled my mouth, invading, exploring and demanding. I clung to him weakly as his mouth moved down my neck. He hooked my leg onto his hip then slowly circled and I could feel him, hard and ready against me. I moved with him, I couldn’t stop my own desperation showing through.

He lifted my shirt, and he buried his head into the top of my breasts, his lips sucking softly tongue lapping like he was tasting me.

“Sy…” I breathed, leaning my heavy head back against the wall.

He groaned into my skin, and my knee threatened to give out as his teeth nipped at me. I became liquid in his arms, surrendering completely and completely lost.

There was a knock at the door and quicker than I could track, Sy pulled my shirt down and pressed his body against the door.

“She’s in the bathroom,” he said, “We’re comin’.”

Disorientated, I smoothed my hair down and righted my shirt with hands that trembled. Jesus Christ that man could kiss.

“You ok?” he asked.

I nodded, still a little stunned. He drew me close and laid a gentle kiss on my hairline.

“Speechless, huh? Musta been good.”.

His teasing snapped me out of my stupor and I pushed him away with a laugh. 

“Or so terrible I’m still trying to work out a way to let you down gently.”

“There’s my girl,” he chuckled. He picked up our bags and put his arm around me. “C’mon, let’s go.”

[keanureevesisbae]

Summary: You got yourself a puppy, however when you lose the little bastard, you meet a very handsome dog owner

Captain Syverson x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1k

Warnings: None

A/N: did this idea pop in my mind after I played Best Friend Forever on the nintendo switch? Maybe...

It was safe to say, you knew nothing about puppies. You thought they were cute—which they are—and they need to go on walks and poop an awful lot. However, there is one thing you did not realize and that is how freaking fast they are. 

When you picked up the little Bernese Mountain pup at the pound, he seemed a little comatose, however with the lightning speed this bastard took off, he appeared to have an overdose of energy after all.

You thought he was simply depressed at the pound.

And here you are, in the park, looking around you, hoping to see a little light brown ball of fluff. You defeatedly sigh, tears burning in your eyes. You just lost your fucking dog, it’s unbelievable and pretty damn pathetic. A sniffle escapes passed your lips. Great, you were officially the worst dog owner on the entire planet. Who the fuck loses their dog? Their pup? You literally had him for around two weeks. 

‘Bob!’ you yell. ‘Bob, buddy! I’ve got snacks. C’mere boy.’

But it doesn’t help. The little bastard doesn’t appear.

Defeatedly, you plop on a park bench, tears dripping over your hot cheeks. You don’t know how long you cry on that bench. 

And then you hear a bark and you look up, only to spot your puppy almost tripping over his own paws, next to a German Shepherd. You jump up. ‘Bob!’ you scream, as you rush over to him, wrapping your arms around the excited canine whose disappearance almost meant your death. ‘Don’t you dare leave me again.’

You turn to the German Shepherd and smile at the animal, who pushes her nose against your cheek. 

‘Thank you for bringing back my dog,’ you say, patting her head, after you put your own dog back on his leash. ‘Where’s your human?’

’Ah,’ I hear from a distance, ‘Aika, you brought the little man back?’

The German Shepherd—who apparently is named Aika— rushes back to her owner and barks as a response. When the handsome man stands closer to you, you nearly gawk at him. He’s gorgeous, with the thick beard and the buzzcut, as he is wearing cargo shorts and a simply dark green shirt.

‘Thank you,’ you say.

‘Quite unbelievable you lost a pup.’

Okay, that hurt a lot more than you initially thought it would. ‘Please, throw some more salt in the wounds,’ you mutter. ‘I feel bad enough already.’ You don’t want to cry, but you can’t stop your umpteenth sniffle of the afternoon.

‘Oh no, I was just being sarcastic,’ the man quickly says. ‘Please, miss, don’t cry.’

‘I thought I’d lost him forever,’ you admit, wiping away your tears. ‘Thank you so much for catching him.’

‘No problem.’ His accent is thick, southern and it does things to your heart, especially when you see his light colored eyes, that despite their icy color, still appear warm. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Bob,’ you sniffle. 

‘Is this your first puppy?’

You nod. ‘Yeah, it is. I try my best, but it’s obviously not paying off.’

The man chuckles. ‘Well, you must start to discipline him,’ he says. ‘Otherwise he’ll be the one in charge, sooner rather than later. This is gonna be a large dog in the future, you must be able to handle him.’

‘I know,’ you whisper, scratching Bob behind his ears. ‘It’s just… There are no puppy schools around and I am a total noob.’

He nods. ‘Want me to help you out?’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, I trained this doll,’ he says, scratching the German Shepherd. ‘I can help you. If you want of course.’

‘I’d love to. Thank you…’

‘Sy,’ he says. ‘The name is Sy.’

You smile. ‘Nice to meet you, Sy.’

☘︎ ☘︎ ☘︎

You discovered Sy used to be in the military and it kind of explained his tough love approach when it came to teaching you how to handle your ginormous pup Bob. A few tears were shed, some words were exchanged, but after a whole month, you have found a routine that worked for you. It’s crazy to think that you actually have this hyper energetic pup under control.

You’re the boss and while you had no clue that you could actually do it, it feels really good to know you’re in charge. 

It’s weekend now, which means no “class”, but just some relaxation. With Bob walking perfectly next to you, without pulling his leash, you make your way to Sy’s place. Sy has a large backyard and his lovely Aika loves running around with Bob. She puts him in place when needed, but loves him nonetheless.

And while the love between your dogs blossomed and they became the best of friends, you could feel yourself turning into a shy mess around Sy. It wasn’t helping that he was so handsome and said things like: ‘Good girl’ to his dog and it had happened at least two times now that he accidentally said it to you.

You were falling so hard for the man, but you knew you weren’t his type. Besides, he could get anyone he wanted in the world, why would he settle for less, a.k.a. you?

After Bob sat down politely, you let him loose and he started running into the yard like crazy. His tail wagging as he approach Sy, who isn’t fazed at all by the enormous ball of fluff and excitement. ‘Hi buddy,’ he says, scratching the large canine behind his ears. He smiles when his eyes land on you. ‘Hi you.’

‘Hey you,’ you say back.

The day was well spend, with the dogs tiring themselves out and finally you made your way into his place. While Sy was cooking, the dogs were sleeping and you were gawking at him.

‘You’re a great cook,’ you say to Sy. ‘You’re quite the package.’

He chuckles. ‘As are you,’ he notes. He must notice your scrunched nose, because he smiles after he took a sip of his beer. ‘Come on,’ he says, ‘you must know you’re a catch.’

‘I’m not,’ you say, swirling around the wine in its glass. ‘I tend to make shitty first impressions on people and after that, people think lowly of me. It’s some sort of wonder my snotty appearance did not stop you from teaching me how to be a great dog owner.’

He smirks. ‘I can look passed those things,’ he says. 

Did you catch the implication right, like it was meant to? 

‘What?’ you ask, visibly confused.

‘I must say, miss,’ he starts, ‘you’re the most oblivious woman I’ve ever met. I help you to train your dog, I dog sit Bob, I invite you to my place every weekend and I cook for you. Do my eyes need to turn into little hearts before you finally realize that I’m crazy about you?’

You blink your eyes. ‘I guess so,’ you mumble. ‘You really crazy about me?’

Sy glances at you. ‘I do,’ he admits. ‘I really like you.’

‘I might like you back,’ you say, taking a sip of your wine. ‘I might like you a whole lot.’

☘︎ ☘︎ ☘︎

Taglist: @diegos-butt // @cherry-gemz // @crazybutconfidentaf // @sillyrabbit81 // @thelastsock // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @summersong69 // @sunshine96love // @oddsnendsfanfics // @gearhead66 // @xobriellaxo24 // @xuxszx // @liecastillo // @sofiebstar // @eldarwen333 // @omgkatinka // @abschaffer2 // @pterodactylterrace

[lewisyellowhelmet]

both our skin - lewis hamilton x reader

summary: morning sex. that’s it. no, really, that’s it. 

warnings: !!! 18+ pls. !!! dirty talk, unprotected sex, language, established relationship, coming inside, brief mention of breeding kink

there really is a scar above his eyebrow lmao but i of course don’t know where it came from. 

send me prompts if u wanna 🤗 

Your fingers track down the side of Lewis’ head, behind his ear, can almost see the dark ink underneath, B L E S S E D. He is. You are. The edge of his beard at his jaw, overdue for a trim so it curls over itself. Double gold hoops in his earlobe. Is he still asleep? Half of you wants to wake him, hear the rumble of his morning voice, get him to make the coffee just how you like it. The other half yearns to let him rest, to stand guard while he sleeps, protect him from all evil, listen to the way he murmurs through dreams.

 His eyes are closed, long dark lashes. Steady rise and fall of his chest. The covers pushed down around his waist, cream linen, so low on his hips it looks pornographic, exposing just the beginning of trimmed dark curls, the lean muscle of his belly, the angle of his hips, everything drawing to where you can just see the outline of him through the sheets.

 Your fingertips on Lewis’ chin, gentle, gentle, the plush of his mouth. He gives himself away, his awakened state, lips twitching in a suppressed smile. You’re amusing him in your exploration, your attempt at memorising how he feels, every part of him.

 “Good morning,” Lewis murmurs, his voice rough and low from recent sleep. His eyes stay closed, but he turns his head on the pillow in your direction, rustle of beard and braids and skin on the linen.  

 “Hi,” you say, a whisper, wriggling closer so the broadness of his shoulder pushes into your chest. Naked under the covers, legs tangled. He’s warm against you, soft skin, hard muscle. There’s a scar at his left eyebrow, a childhood karting crash. Your fingers skitter over it, the change in texture. The diamond in his nose winks in the morning sunlight. Lewis’ mouth is half open, steady breath.

 “Feels nice,” he says, while you trace the line of his nose, down to the middle of his collarbone, slowly. You can just see the flutter of his pulse point, black lettering over it. Under your palm, his heartbeat.

 “Wanna fuck you,” Lewis murmurs, puts his hands over yours where it lies on his chest, and it swallows yours, fingers curled up under his. When you look to his face, distracted by the sight of his big hand, his eyes have opened, all dark and sleepy.

 “Oh yeah?” You whisper, already breathless. He must feel your thighs squeeze together, because his mouth crooks into a smile.

 “Yeah.”

 “Tell me how much you want too.”

The rumble of a laugh, a big breath. Then Lewis is shifting, up onto one arm so he can lean over your body, movements still slow with sleep, the weight of him pressing you down into the mattress. You get one good look at him in the soft morning light, a braid falling over his face, creases on his cheek from the pillow, dark eyes that look like they want to eat you, before he’s dropping his head so his mouth is at your ear, warm breath, the barest brush of his lips.

 “Want you so bad, always do. Even if I’ve just had you. Could lie here all day with you and just stay inside you, see how many times I can make you come. With my mouth, with my hand, with my cock.”

 His words wash over you like a wave, tidal, pulling you under. The lowness of his voice, the way his fingers brush over your nipple, just gently, just a tease, a pinch when you don’t expect it. How he’s already hard, pressing into your hip. You must make a wanting sound, because Lewis laughs, pulling back to look at you, your cheek warm from the scratch of his beard.

 “You like it when I tell you naughty things, don’t you.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

 “Yeah,” you breathe, one arm thrown loose around his neck. He’s been wearing a cross recently, and the metal is warm where it dangles to your breast. Lewis has got his hand between your legs, and you watch through heavy eyes as he smiles, a fond huff of a laugh when two fingers slide in easily, already wet and waiting for him. He’s slow about it, presses deep before he drags them all the way out, waits for your shaky breath before he fucks his fingers back into you.

 “Can’t wait to feel you, to be inside you,” he’s saying, and his accent always gets thick when you’re like this, all spread out and pliant under him, stomach tight already.

 “Please,” you whisper, pressure on his neck with your arm so he kisses you, lazy and open mouthed. His hand faster, harder, hits that really good spot so you arch up into him, moan in such a needy way you would be embarrassed if anyone but him heard. Just from his fingers, just from him knowing exactly how you like it, the pace, the pressure.

 “Gonna come,” you warn, into his mouth so who knows if he even hears, keeps his steady push and pull, thumb pressing into your clit. Kisses you through your orgasm, swallows up all your keening sounds, mumbles back to you, love making you come all over my hand, can feel how tight you’re getting, can’t wait to get my cock in you.

 You have to stop kissing him when you lose your breath, half pushing into his hand still and half pulling away, wanting more and it being too much all at once.

 “Gonna fuck you now,” Lewis growls, already pulling your knees up and open, settling between them, slipping one leg over his shoulder so you fall open for him.

 “Yeah,” is all you can really say, the last gasps of an orgasm still tingling, your face turned half into the pillow, wanting to look at him and not being able to bear it at the same time. Still, you can’t help but watch through hazy eyes as he holds himself, sat back on his heels, drags the head of his cock over you, collects your slick, makes you twitch when he just teases at your entrance, rubs himself there.

 “Look at you,” he croons, gaze moving from your face (flushed, open mouthed, sleepy eyes), and where he’s just pushing the tip of himself into you, agonisingly slow so your body opens and closes around him, wanting more, more, more. The blunt push, the way he holds open the crease of your thigh with one big hand so he can watch himself slide into you, teeth dug into his bottom lip.

 Lewis catches your gaze, smiles, all red mouth, white teeth, blown pupils, “You feel so fucking good, so tight, every time, fuck.”

 Your hands on his chest, nails dug in, jaw slack, can’t look away from his face as he pushes slow (slow, so slow) all the way into you, making room for himself, thick and hot and big, always so big.

 “Does that feel good?” He asks, like he doesn’t know the answer, wants to hear it for himself, the way you talk over yourself, words slurring as you try to tell him, yes, yes, more, please.

 Lewis rocks into you, once, twice, before he pulls all the way out, folds forward to lean on one arm, the weight of his body pushing him deeper, makes you cry out, makes his eyes close.

 “M’ not gonna last,” he’s saying, but you don’t care, can only hold his face in weak hands, everything so sensitive from your first orgasm, feel the strength of him with every thrust so it rocks your whole body, the whine of the bed springs. Your leg on his shoulder, the sheen of sweat on his chest, dangling chain on your breasts, the stretch of him inside you, the push and pull. The sounds he’s making, groans, half open eyes, watching your face, smack of your bodies meeting so perfectly.

 “Can I come in you,” Lewis asks, half into your hair, has got you all bent underneath him, fitting into his body, and you can’t think anymore, can’t do anything but feel him.

 “Yeah,” you pant, “Yeah, do it, please,” tight around him, pushing up to meet his hips, “Gonna come again.”

 “I know, fuck, I can feel it, it’s so good, always so good,” Lewis says, messy words, trying to kiss you at the same time. His jaw cradled in your fingers, holding loosely, groan of his name, whispering coming, coming, coming, feeling him lose rhythm, agree with you, push deep, again, again, bury himself, pulsing inside you, his mouth on your neck, the vibration of him moaning into your skin. He’s gonna leave a mark there, a hidden bruise where he told you he was coming, bit into you.

You come back into yourself slowly, gently. The weight of his body on you, the soft linen of the sheets, the sunlight on the ceiling. Lewis’ face in your shoulder, breath on your skin, touching your breast, just because he can, rolling your nipple between his fingers to watch it get hard again. You pet his hair, twirling braids, listening to him tell you about his breakfast plan. You’ll fall asleep again, probably, before he can get up to cook, soothed by his voice, his come dribbling out from between your legs. Maybe he’ll fuck it back into you. He’ll like that. Always gets off on that. You turn your head to kiss his forehead, feel him smile into your skin, reach down to touch him again.

[peachyloveswriting]

This is less romantic and more big brother type request but what if the reader was framed for a crime and then meets Yancy. The reader explains to Yancy that they didn’t commit the crime and Yancy believes them. He sees an air of innocence around the reader and swears to protect the reader. Cue a prison riot happening and Yancy immediately goes to protect the reader

Youse is like family

Pairing: Yancy x reader (familial)

Warning: none

When they locked you up it was late so you were immediately stuffed into a cell with three other people. All of which watched your from their beds with curiosity. You didn't crawl into bed that night, instead you balled up in a corner and cried. Sparkles McGhee was the first of the three to approach you. He was strange but kind.

You could hear shuffling somewhere in the cell, looking up to see one of the inmates jump down from their bed you watched them walk toward you. Once they got closer you could make out their face. He had orange hair, and a relatively thick beard. Once he stopped in front on you he kneeled.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked.

"No." You scooted further into the corner.

"Sparkles you're making them uncomfortable." A deeper voice said from below the bed that the man jumped down from.

He replied with an oh and scooted back some as well. "I'm sparkles McGhee, you can just call me sparkles." It was a strange name you thought. "I'm y/n." You said. He smiled sweetly, "It's nice to meet you." He paused, his smile falling. "I'm sorry for whatever made you feel bad but I have a feeling you're going to like it here." He looked back to the beds then back at you. "I'll tell you what, when you wake up tomorrow we'll introduce you to Yancy. He'll get you all settled."

You nodded reluctantly, watching him stand back up. He motioned for you to stand. "C'mon lay down, we don't bite " His words were ominous but you took his offer and laid down in the only available bed. From what sparkles had said it seemed like Yancy was the leader of the prison. You would just have to find out tomorrow.

When you first woke up, you were being shaken awake by a taller burly man. He looked rather menacing, he was bald, a spider web tattooed on his head. You were startled by his presence, shoving him away from you.

"Sorry," He scratched the back of his head. "C'mon, let's go meet Yancy." You hesitantly followed him out of the cell and into what seemed like was the main area. There were prisoners scattered around, each of them looking or unique than the last. It was strange seeing people like this in a prison of all places. You were led to what was supposed to be a bathroom there two men sat, one had a ladle and was mixing a strange red liquid in the toilet while the other sat on the floor with a wine glass in hand. He looked up at you, allowing you to see his features more clearly. His beard was rather scruffy and his black hair was slicked back, instead of wearing the traditional snack and white striped shirt he wore a plain white t-shirt.

"We have a new inmate." The tall burly man said before leaving you with Yancy.

"Thanks Jimmy." He yelled to him before standing to shake your hand. "It's nice to meet youse..." "Y/n."

He smiled. "Let's sit down shall we." He offered leading you to an empty table. Once you were settled he leaned against the table. "So, let's get down to the nitty gritty. What are youse in for?" He asked you.

You sighed, looking at the table top instead of him. "That bad huh?" He said. You shook your head. "Oh?" Yancy seemed interested. "I was wrongfully accused of murdering my partner. Even though all of the evidence pointed to someone else they still locked me up and I-" you choked on your tears. "I'm sorry."

Yancy stood, moving over to you. "No, it's okay." He sat down beside you. "Do youse wanna hug?" You nodded you head. He frowned as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you softly. "Losing a lover must be hard." He mumbled. "I'm sorry for youse's loss." His had rubbed your back softly. The other inmates frowned at the sight, some shaking their heads.

Finally able to somewhat get a grip on yourself you sat up, wiping the tears from your eyes. "I'm so sorry." You apologized again feeling bad for crying on someone you barely even knew. "It's okay, I know it can be rough sometimes but youse can get through this." He encouraged you with a small smile. "I hope so." He reached out a grabbed your shoulder, rubbing it lightly. "Don't worry it will, youse will fit right in."

He was right when he said that, you did fit in. Everyone here quickly became like family, and Yancy was especially family. He was like a brother to you, always watching your back, making sure no one messed with you. It was amazing.

A month after you showed up though, a prison rally started. You were so confused, you didn't know what to do. The anxiety started getting to you, the tears pooling in your eyes. Over the shouts you could hear you name being yelled by a familiar voice.

Yancy ran to you, engulfing you in a hug. You hugged him back crying into him. "What's going on?" You asked. "A prison riot." He picked you up. Running through the people to get back towards the cells where Jimmy, sparkles, Hank, Bam Bam, and Tiny hid. When he set you down he checked you over, winding the tears from your eyes with his thumbs.

"Is youse okay?" He asked. "Yeah, thank you." You hugged him again. He smiled. "Of course, I promised I'd keep you safe."

You smiled, before pulling back out of the hug. Turning you looked over everyone. "Is everyone okay?" You asked. Everyone nodded. Until the situation was over you all stayed in the cell together. It was later that night that Yancy had walked you to bed.

"Thanks again for earlier, I didn't know what I would have done if you hadn't came and got me." You explained. Yancy smiled, turning to face you fully. "Of course, you're like family to me." He grabbed your cheeks and kissed your forehead. "Now sleep well okay." You smiled back at him. "Of course. Goodnight."

[antimonyandthyme]

Vettonso word vomit; blame Baku 2022 and whatever it was the two were drinking around each other.

“I know what your problem is.”

“What’s that?” Fernando wants to lean in close, and bite that look off Sebastian’s face. They’re out of breath, they’re aching. Sex with Sebastian has always been rough, like they’re not quite sure how to be gentle with each other. Sometimes Fernando sees Sebastian with Lewis, with Mick, or Charles, and he wonders what it must feel like when Sebastian tames his touch.

“You used to be the guy with the killer instinct. You’d look at people and see right through them, right through to the end of the race. They were all backmarkers to you.”

“This going anywhere?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says sagely. “Now you don’t have that anymore, so you don’t know who you are.”

“Wow,” Fernando says, even though a tiny part of him worries Sebastian might be right. “Free therapy in bed.”

Sebastian tilts his head up at Fernando, bewildered. At this angle, the bruise Fernando sucked emphatically into the juncture of his neck invents a dip so tempting that Fernando wants to reach out. Dig his fingers in harder. “You asked.”

“Sebastian,” Fernando sighs, “when I ask hypothetical questions like, when did we get so old, I don’t actually expect you to answer.”

Sebastian frowns. It’s his I’m-trying-to-enjoy-your-company-but-you’re-making-it-hard frown, one he wears periodically around Fernando. “That’s silly.”

He’s a prickly little thing now, and Fernando tries to think of apologies. They’re still rubbing up against each others’ edges, but the learning curve’s set in. When it comes down to it, Sebastian may be quick to retort, but he’s just as quick to forgive, quick to make excuses for those he favours.

“Alright,” Fernando allows. He thumbs the bruise on Sebastian’s neck, in a way that can only be described as fond. Maybe he still enjoys riling up Sebastian, just that little bit. “Do you want to fuck me now?”

Sebastian half-snorts, half-giggles, before slapping a hand over his mouth, like he’s still trying to pretend to be annoyed. He sees right through Fernando, of course. “That’s how you apologize?”

“Is it working?”

“No,” Sebastian says, “but only because I’m old, remember?” He stretches out like a satisfied, smug cat. “I can’t do anything for awhile.”

Fair, especially when Fernando had been the one to wring that brutal orgasm out of him earlier. Except Sebastian’s been basking in the sun lately; his skin is golden against the sheets. It’s unjust. “Now you’re just being petty.”

Sebastian glances at him a little hopefully. “We could just make out?”

“Like teenagers?” Fernando grumbles, but he’s already taking Sebastian’s face in his hands. The scruff of Sebastian’s beard is a lovely scratch against his palm. Sebastian shimmies closer, arranging one knee atop Fernando’s hip.

It shouldn’t be this hot, but it is. Fernando wants to touch Sebastian all over. Sebastian shifts eagerly against him, albeit at an easy, muted pace. It’s a nice change. Tell his 2011 self he’d be doing this with Sebastian Vettel and he’d probably have broken a rib laughing. Though there’s something to be said about old men, and the things they learn in season.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Guardian Angel

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Sequel to The Kiss of Life

Prompt: Would you do a part two to kiss of life where they’re relationship is developing and they go to a party and someone is flirting with her and pietro gets jealous?

Note: YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1.5k

You weren’t really one for parties, but to celebrate the new facility, of course Tony decided to liven the place up a little by inviting all of his acquaintances to check it out. You were getting dressed, putting the finishing touches on your outfit when a certain someone sped into the room, leaving a flash of silver in his path.

“You. Look. Gorgeous.” He stated, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. “I’m going to have to peel the competition off of you, my love.”

You turned around to face him, one of your hands rising to his cheek. He’d trimmed his beard, you noticed, admiring his handsome features. “There is no competition, Piet. You’re the only one I want.”

“What a relief.” He chuckled, taking a step closer and pulling you into his arms, his mouth resting beside your ear so he could whisper, “I love you, my guardian angel.”

“I love you, too.” You peppered his cheek in kisses before pressing a long, soft kiss to his lips.

As soon as your lips touched his, his hand rose to cradle the back of your head, keeping you close so he could deepen it. You couldn’t get enough of him. You knew it. You never wanted the moment to end, and yet, a few moments later, there was a knock on the doorframe, Steve clearing his throat.

You separated, your cheeks burning. The others knew about your relationship, of course. It wasn’t a secret, but as one of the younger Avengers, the others were still a bit protective of you, even though they knew you were fully capable of protecting yourself.

“Is everything starting?” You asked.

“Yeah, the food just got delivered.” Steve explained. “Tony got catering from some place called Olive Garden?”

“Oh hell yes.”

Pietro scooped you up in his strong arms and pressed a long kiss to your forehead before speeding off into the other room, where the others were, guests steadily filing in.

Wanda walked up to you immediately, smiling warmly. She was accompanied by Vision, who had materialized himself a formal suit just for the occasion. “You look beautiful, (Y/N),” she complimented, pulling you in for a hug.

“So do you! I love your earrings!”

“Thank you! They were a birthday gift from that one.” She tilted her head towards her twin. “And against all odds, he’s cleaned up nicely today.”

“You know me. Always dressing to impress.” He winked, straightening out his silver bowtie. “Shall I get us something to drink?” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Sure, thank you.”

“I will be right back.” He promised, punctuating it with a kiss to your forehead.

“His love language is touch, if you hadn’t noticed.” Wanda chuckled.

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” You laughed, nodding. “I wouldn’t have him any other way.”

“You make him really happy, you know.” She smiled softly, watching him at the bar. “It’s so nice to see him happy. It’s been such a long time.”

“I’m so glad you two came into our lives.” You told her.

“Me too.” She and Vision walked off to socialize with the influx of guests, leaving you alone for the moment until Pietro came back. Unfortunately, this left the window open for some random S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to walk up.

“Pretty little thing like you came here all alone? Shame. Seems like a missed opportunity.”

“Um, excuse me, who even are—”

“Name’s Agent Kiefer Valentine, but you can call me…anytime.”

“Do you know who I—?"

“How about you and I stick together for the night? Get to know each other.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Oh, sorry, did you not hear me, how about FUCK NO! I have a boyfriend, you creep.”

“Oh yeah?” He challenged. “And where is he?”

“Right here.” It was Pietro’s voice now. He’d sped over at the first sign of trouble. “Darling, is he giving you any trouble?” Pietro asked, his face contorted in frustration at the obviously very low-ranking agent who somehow thought he had a shot with a fucking Avenger.

“And who’s this?” Kiefer asked, still not taking the hint. Maybe he hadn’t seen Pietro speed over. If he had, you were sure he would have cut his losses and went off to bother someone else.

“I’m her boyfriend.” He asserted, puffing his chest out a little. “And you have until the count of three to get lost before I—”

“I’ve got this, babe.” You told him, calming him with a hand to his chest. “Get lost or I’ll kick your ass.”

He crossed his arms and scoffed. “How? Everyone knows healing isn’t a real superpower.”

Pietro’s expression darkened. “What did you just say to her?”

The area surrounding the three of you went deathly quiet.

“No, I want to hear you say it again. What did you just say to her?” Pietro demanded, getting visibly upset.

“Agent Coulson, is this one of yours?” You asked, motioning him over.

He looked Kiefer up and down, nodding. “New recruit. Tad bit excitable I’m afraid. I’ll see that he’s decommissioned in the morning.” Coulson looked to Pietro. “You can escort him out, if you’d like.”

“My pleasure.” Pietro tilted his head to the side, handed you two glasses of wine and then sped off somewhere with Kiefer.

“I am so sorry about him, (Y/N).” Coulson apologized. “I thought I weeded out all of the assholes, but I guess some of them don’t always show their true colors right away.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you shook off his concern. “I didn’t want to have to beat him up only to heal him again right after.”

Pietro dashed back to your side, taking a moment to catch his breath. “The trash has been taken out.” He grinned and wrapped an arm around your waist, taking one of the wine glasses from you.

“Thank you.” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Pietro, this is Agent Coulson.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Pietro offered his hand and shook Coulson’s.

“So this must be the Quicksilver I’ve heard so much about. Keeping (L/N) here out of trouble?”

“Of course,” Pietro said with a wink. He took a sip of his wine. “Someone has to.”

“I’ll see the two of you around.” Coulson walked away, leaving you and Pietro there in the center of the room. The tense moment had passed, but you sensed some of its energy remained. You still tried to enjoy the night, though.

There was some entertainment, so once you were finished with your drinks, Pietro whisked you out onto the dance floor. You could feel the eyes on the two of you. Everyone in that room knew how you and Pietro had met, and what you had done to save him. Every person there knew that Pietro, without your intervention, would be dead. And Pietro knew it too. He felt the weight of it every day, and yet, it only made him love you even more.

His guardian angel. His love. His everything.

The music slowed and Pietro’s hands found your waist, pulling you close to him. Your arms rested on his shoulders and you basked in his warmth. Your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, or maybe due to the proximity, but there was nowhere in the entire world you’d rather be than right there in his arms.

***

Much later, when all of the people had gone home, you and Pietro retired to your rooms. He changed into his pajamas. You changed into yours. And once you walked out of your bathroom and back into your bedroom, you jumped when you saw Pietro waiting on the bed there for you.

“Hey, babe. What’s up?”

“Can I spend the night in here?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, walking over. You climbed under the covers and invited him to do the same. Once the light was out, he crawled on top of you, resting his head on your chest. He guided one of your hands up to his hair and you began lightly scratching his scalp just the way he liked it.

“I can’t believe he said that to you, printsessa.” His voice was no more than a low murmur. “I didn’t hurt him for it, but I wanted to.”

“I know.” You nodded, stroking his head calmingly. “Thank you for not hurting him.”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, thinking for a bit. “Do people say that to you…often?”

“Unfortunately.” You chuckled. “I don’t mind. I know the truth. It used to bother me, but it doesn’t anymore.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, looking up at you.

“Well, my powers gave me you.” You said simply. “And if that’s not a superpower, I don’t know what is.”

Pietro lifted himself from your chest, hovering above you. He looked at you for a long moment, brushing hair out of your face before leaning down to press a long, meaningful kiss to your lips.

“My angel.” He whispered. “My beautiful angel. I love you so much.”

“I love you too…”

[wajjs]

An idea I though you may like. After everything that happens with Parallax, Hal still has the white hair. He thinks is the last thing Parallax left him so he could hate himself when he see it on the mirror. Problem is everyone else thinks is sexy. So, Hal has more admirers now on earth and out of earth.

See, he's considered buying hair dye and getting rid of it. Of the damning evidence, that is; evidence that he fucked up and he's fucked up. White hair takes color quite well, is what he's read in the library's public computer while nervously bouncing his leg and hitting his knee against the desk enough times that the kind librarian went out of their way to make sure he wasn't doing anything... untoward.

Anyways.

He could dye it.

But that would be running away, wouldn't it? And my god, he's not the kind that does that. He wouldn't know how to start. While anyone could say he's spent his life running, it was never away from the problem, rather towards it.

Besides, it's just his head, all of it and not just the sideburns. Well, and his eyebrows now, too. At least those match, unlike his beard that has the same color of hair he used to have before. Back when...

Thing is, he could dye it. No one important has seen him after this change took hold, so it's not like anyone's going to ask. He could, couldn't he? Buy a cheap box of dye, the cheapest one, and get it over with. It'd be easy.

And that's precisely why he doesn't.

---

Hal's wandering aimlessly through the halls of the League's headquarters. He's idly scratching his neck, under his jaw, where his beard is starting to grow, and can't help but think that he doesn't belong here anymore. Too many skeletons trying to get at him. Too many ghosts.

He should step back, leave room for the others again. Kyle's doing an excellent job. Everyone is. And he's just... he's just trying to keep up, at the end of the day, that's all there is to him now. An endless attempt at keeping up. His hair is just another reminder of the road towards recovery and forgiveness he has ahead of him.

"Hal!" the call comes from the end of the hallway he's not facing, so he turns, face carefully blank. "Dear friend," Diana smiles at him with an ease he doesn't deserve, "it's good to see you back around here."

"Yeah," he blinks once, twice, clenches his hands by his sides open and close a couple of times, "thank you."

What else is he supposed to say here? Small talk has never been his forte. How's he supposed to talk about the weather when they're out in space?

"I've noticed you changed your look," she says next, saving him from losing more dignity than what he already has lost, and she's still--she's still smiling. She was never one to smile at him quite this much. "It's new. It suits you."

"I," shit, what's he to say to that? Unconsciously, one of his hands is on his head now, picking at a random strand of hair that is still at odds between being pale gray and off-white. It depends on the lightning. "Thanks?"

"You look good, Hal," Diana finishes this extremely weird interaction with, then, clasping his shoulder for a good ol' squeeze that to her must feel like holding grapes but to him feels like his muscles are being rearranged. "It is a nice change."

He watches her walk past him. He's trying, he's trying hard to make sense of this interaction. And he's failing.

[jadegrey711]

Trouble

Soft dark!Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hello everyone! So recently I’ve become absolutely obsessed with both @navybrat817​ and @stargazingfangirl18​ who both write absolutely amazing stuff and I want to be them when I grow up. So when I found out Siri was doing a 5k writing challenge i figured i’d throw my hat in the ring and maybe get out of this depression writing slump. 

So I decided to make a vey very very! Soft!Dark Andy Barber x Fem!Reader. Seriously it’s like Dark Light lol. But I hope you all like it! I hope to do another one before the month is over but let’s see shall we? 

*NOT MY GIF. Credit in the TAGS*

Word Count:1484

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711) 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake. 

WARNINGS: Sexual Situations (18+ ONLY), Overstimulation, possessive Andy, deeply jealous Andy, Oral sex (F Receiving), Vaginal sex. 

Other warnings include very mediocre writing. 

He watched you from a distance as he continued talking with his fellow associates, making sure to keep a watchful eye on you as you chatted with the wives. He smirked to himself knowing you must be bored out of your mind, but you did it for him and he loved you for it. 

Suddenly though, Andy watched as Neil Logiudice approached you from behind, putting a hand on your arm. You seemed startled for a minute and then smiled, putting your hand on top of his and Andy saw red. 

He barely registered what the others in his group were talking about. Because his gaze was focused solely on you and Neil and how cozy you were in each other’s company. How you and the other women laughed at some joke he made and about how in the three minutes he had been standing there he hadn’t been able to keep his fucking hands off of you. He felt like breaking each one of those fingers, making sure he let Neil know that he was never to touch you again. He could feel his whole body vibrate with violence as he continued watching, knowing you were none the wiser. 

Neil was nice enough and he was an associate of Andy’s so when he put his hand on your arm to get your attention you let it slide, putting your hand on top of his and gave it a friendly pat fighting the urge to swat it away immediately. You were at a party full of Andy’s work friends and associates so making a scene over something small would not be a good impression on either your part or Andy’s; so you let it slide and you let the other four times he touched you slide as well. Even as you were mentally flinching each time he did it. After the fourth time you looked around the room for Andy, looking for an escape of some kind and immediately found him; across the room and boring holes into the back of Neil’s head with that dark gaze. 

You took that as your cue to quickly excuse yourself, saying that it was getting rather late and you should go and find Andy. Everyone waved you off as you departed from the group and over to where Andy was. 

“Hi honey.” You smiled, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers with his and while everyone else in the group was still talking you heard Andy sigh and grip your fingers back; turning his face towards your he gave you a small smile. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” He whispered in your ear.

“Definitely!” You whispered back. Before you plastered a smile on your face as Andy said goodbye to everyone and then put his hand on the small of your back and guided you out the exit. 

**

Later that night after you both had gotten home, gotten into bed and as Andy had your leg over his strong shoulder while he devoured your soul between your legs did he bring up Neil. 

You writhed on the bed, your fingers tangled in Andy’s hair as you felt your orgasm coming on fast with the pace he was eating you out at. When suddenly Andy surprised you. 

“You good friends with Neil now?” he asked nonchalantly against your folds, before he sucked harshly on your clit. Making you groan. 

“What?” you asked confused at what he was possibly asking you right now as he was sucking all rational thought out through your pussy. 

“Are you good friends with Neil?” He asked again, giving your clit another harsh suck. And you felt your legs convulse. 

“What the fuck Andy?” You asked but the sound of his name was more of a moan as he added two of his fingers and pumped your sweet pussy. 

Andy didn’t give for a minute as he continued to suck and lick at your folds until you finally came, but instead of gently working you through your orgrasm, his fingers kept their harsh pace as he looked up at you. 

“You seemed like real good friends when you let him put his fucking hands on you.” He growled as he placed an open mouth kiss on your pussy. His other hand pulling the hood of your clit back before placing another one of those kisses there and sucking it again. 

“Fuck! Andy! I’m gonna come again.” you cried out, feeling that the pleasure was starting to be too much for you. But the way that you started to pull on Andy’s hair to pull him off or the way your hips turned away from him his touches didn’t deter him one bit as he continued with his interrogation. 

He leaned up from you and watched his fingers stroke in and out of you before he added a third one, earning a low whine from you as you felt yourself building up to another orgasm.

“You didn’t answer my question sweetheart. Why did that fuck think he could put his hands on what is mine?” 

“Andy.” you moaned, trying to get away from his touch but he wasn’t having any of that as he placed his heavy bicep over your stomach, keeping you there at his mercy. 

You felt that sinful tongue run through your folds again, his thick beard scratching your thighs adding whatever sensations you were feeling to new heights. Then he pulled out his fingers so he could fuck you with his tongue now. Your third orgasm coming like a runaway freight train. You felt your toes curl as your third orgasm washed over you making you lift from the bed like Andy was performing an exorcism on you. 

You felt tears in your eyes as you tried again to pull away from Andy’s touches feeling your thighs tremble uncontrollably now but Andy wasn’t stopping not until he got what he wanted from you; not until he got an answer for why Neil thought he could put his hands on what didn’t belong to him. 

“Fuck Andy! Stop!” you sobbed. “He just came up to me. I didn’t want to make a scene about some guy putting his hand on my arm so I didn’t do anything  about it. I knew you were right there if I felt uncomfortable and I did; so I left.” you cried out, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks. “Please honey stop.” you sobbed. 

You watched in relief as Andy pulled his plump lips away from your aching pussy, and felt your pussy clench at the sight of his beard absolutely drenched in your juices. But your relief was short lived, as you saw the look in Andy’s eyes, the feral look they held in them. 

“He made you uncomfortable?” 

“Yes, but I came straight to you. Please Andy I can’t take it anymore baby please.” you whined. 

“I should break everyone of his fingers for laying a fucking hand on what’s mine.” He said softly, placing chaste kisses on your inner thighs and you let out a small cry. You watched in relief as he climbed up the length of your body, and ladened you with soft hungry kisses, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“I love you.” he said softly, giving you another soft kiss. “I’m so glad that you felt that you could just come to me when you were feeling uncomfortable. I never want you to feel that way again so next time, you’ll just stay with me the whole time okay?” 

You quickly nodded and kissed Andy back. You both just stayed there like that for a minute, him hovering and stretched over your body, ladening you with soft kisses before he pulled away from you and gave you a wicked smile. 

“But I think you have one more in you baby.” he said and before you could even react. Andy grabbed the back of each of your legs, bringing you closer to him, before he swiftly impaled you with his achingly hard cock.

Andy set a brutal pace obviously trying to get you off one more time before he loses all control. You let out a high keen, and grabbed onto Andy, your nails raking down his back; a small revenge for him absolutely wrecking you tonight all because of some asshole touching you. 

“I’m gonna fill you up so nicely baby. No one will ever have any doubt that you are mine.” he let out a low grown. “And that I’m yours.” he growled leaning down to suck and place kisses on your neck. 

Without warning your orgasm crashed over you and you were sure that if Andy wasn’t there pressing down onto you, you would’ve snapped in half from the force of it. As Andy chased his own end, he kissed the tears that were flowing down your cheeks. 

“Nothing fucks with my baby.”

[gotnofucks]

Chemical Romance

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Chris won’t have you running away from him. You’re his. He owns your heart, and now he’ll own all of you.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: RPF, smut, slight dubcon(ish), jealous and possessive Chris, toxic relationship, recording without permission, forced marriage

A/N: I wrote this months ago and pulled it out to share it with my bestie @donutloverxo​ . Berry finally convinced me to post this and helped me beta this. Babe, I love you!

You were way past your teenage years, and yet you had the urge to giggle like one. If you licked your lips, you could still taste the trace of wine that had stained his lips. The memory of them pressing against you, brushing gently until they tangled in a mix of tongue and teeth had a delicious heat burning in your face. This was a good date, the third good date with a good man you met, and you were excited for more.

Looking over your shoulder you saw the lights of his car disappearing in the dark of night and you sighed contently, shutting your door behind you and dropping your keys in the bowl by the door. All of a sudden, your body broke into goosepimples, a chill settling over you and it took you a moment to understand why. Your body was recognizing the dark presence before your mind could.

“Good evening sweetheart. Had a good date?”                                                      

The door was right behind you, you could easily grab your car keys right now and run away. And yet all you could do was hold onto the wall as your knees trembled. You’d never been good at running away from him anyway.

Chris was lounging on your sofa, watching you with those arresting blue eyes that you knew changed shades with his mood. His beard was thicker than the last you’d seen him, and his lips were pulled into a sardonic smirk, eyes glinting furiously.

“How?” You sputtered, still rooted to your spot. You could run, you should run, but you knew you wouldn’t go far. He let you go only so far to give you a false sense of achievement, a mere taste of relief and freedom until he snatched you back to himself.

“I always think that every time you leave, it would be the last. You’ll realize that its futile, you’ll realize that we’re meant to be together.” Chris said, “But never did I imagine you to be stupid enough to be with another man.”

His voice had been described as dreamy by many, even by yourself, but right now it only rang of danger and anger. Softness was Chris’s weapon, to deliver the meanest words with a smile that was poison sweet. One time, you had loved to taste that poison yourself. Did it still run in your veins and taint you?

Looking at you from under his lashes, he spread his legs and beckoned you to him. You gulped before following, not daring to look away from him until you were before him.

“Kneel” He ordered softly. You knees hit the ground, the rug digging into your skin. He watched you watch him, eyes locked in a dialog of their own until his rough hand caressed the skin of your cheek. You leaned into his touch, hating yourself for being a slave to him and your desire. Even on your knees, the familiar feeling of peace flooded your senses. Nothing made you feel as alive as worshiping him. And nothing killed you as much as loving him.

“Please” You begged, pressing a kiss into his palm. “Don’t do this to me.”

Chris regarded you with a look that was almost tender, his blue eyes staring into your own as if unearthing every secret you had ever kept from him. He pulled you closer, close enough to have you raise up and hold his shoulders while his lips brushed gently against yours.

“For as long as I live, you are mine. You know that. Why must you fight it?”

It had been a couple months since you last saw him, since the pads of his fingers had glided over the curves of your body and claimed you as his. You melted, you melted like the butter in a hot pan, sizzling with the heat of his ardor. One taste of him and you were ready to forget why you had left him, why you had packed up and left his house when he was out. Chris Evans didn’t just play your body, he also played your heart. He loved you so hard that it hurt.

You wondered if you should fight, if you should scream or cry. But you knew it the moment you walked inside your house tonight: you were going nowhere but to him. He held you as you captured his lips in yours, a hand fisting his hair and tugging. He pulled until you were on his lap, his beard scratching your skin and reminding you of all the ways he had marked you before.

Panting, you pulled away when he breathily whispered your name, eyes liquid and feral and kind. He was a man of many layers and you had unveiled the darkest of them. He no longer hid the rawest parts of him, and you never knew if it was a good thing or not.

“Pack up, I’m taking you back home.” He said, hands settling on your waist. “I am not spending one more night in a bed without you.”

You nodded, stealing another kiss until you surrendered to his demands. Again.

Dodger ran to you, whining and wagging his tail as you sat down to give him better access. You’d missed your furry companion, his coat soft on your cheek when you nuzzled into him. Chris chuckled, rolling your bags into his room while you and Dodger had your little reunion.

“I am so sorry Bubba” You cooed to him, scratching behind his ears. “I missed you so much. Did you miss me, hmm?”

Dodger barked, rubbing his body against you. You laughed, cuddling your little boy. You’d missed waking upto him snuggled by your feet and the soft pattering of his feet as he followed you around.

“He didn’t eat right for a week after you left. You were being a bad mommy.” Chris said coming behind you. He petted Dodger before pulling you up by your arm, your chest flushed to his. You loved how he smelled of coffee and beer and cinnamon. He tasted of them too, bitter and addictive.

Your fingers traced a path in his beard, lips pressing into the hollow of his throat. It scared you how much power he had over you. You’d promised yourself you’ll break away from his hold when you found him snooping in your phone again. His possessiveness knew no bounds. If Chris had it his way, he’d hide you in a castle made only for his eyes. But right now, in the heaven of his arms, you couldn’t remember why you left him in the first place.

“I am sorry.” You whispered, hugging him tight. His arms came around you, holding you so possessively close that even death couldn’t rip you apart. Chemical romance, that’s how Scott had explained your relationship once. Your friends had stopped complaining, had stopped warning after losing count over how often you broke up and got back together.

“I am so pissed at you.” He said in your ear, breath warm on your skin. “I want to erase every lingering trace of that man’s touch from your body. But more than that, I need to remind you who you belong to.”

You refused to look at him, burying your head in his chest even as you held him tighter.

“I belong to you. I know it baby, I made a mistake.” You said, voice muffled. Chris tutted, pushing your face away firmly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze.

“Here I am, feeling guilty for even touching other women during a scene that is supposed to be my job. And my girl goes around fucking other men because we had an argument?” He hissed, a nerve throbbing in his temple. You pouted, bottom lip wobbling as you tried not to cry. You were raised to be a strong woman, someone who could speak for herself. How was it so easy for this man to reduce you to a sniveling woman for something that wasn’t even your fault.

“I didn’t fuck him.” You countered and Chris’s eyes flashed. You stared at each other until Chris practically growled and dragged you towards the bedroom. Dodger trailed behind you, stopping once Chris ordered him to stay put.

His bedroom, a space you had shared and abandoned all too many times was the same as always. It reeked of his aftershave and cologne, the stars winking at you from the window that overlooked the ground. Chris shut the door, rounding on you and pushing you towards the bed.

“You didn’t fuck him?” He spat, ticked off. “You let him touch you, you let him put his hands on what belongs to me.”

You shivered as your back met the cold sheets, bouncing slightly on the mattress. His anger was scary, but more than that it was exciting. It was you who had brought this strong, powerful man to this animalistic side. You, who could make him scowl and shout and get his heart pumping enough to bring blood to his face. You, who made him primitive as he held you down and fucked you into submission.

“We only kissed.” You said, knowing how to provoke him. That kiss was nice, it was sweet. But your body craved rough and hard, it craved to be possessed and used and worshiped. It craved Chris who left his handprints on your butt and his spent in your cunt. It craved Chris who kissed you until you were out of breath, who whispered the filthiest things to you as he buried himself in your warmth over and over until you were too hoarse to even cry.

He knew it, he read that in your eyes and in your touch that seared through the layers of clothes on his body. He knew you were getting under his skin on purpose, hurting him the way he hurt you so many times. Neither of you held back.

You tore away at his clothes, bucking your hips frantically in a bid to get closer. Chris cursed, squeezing your ass in his large hands and grounding his hardness on your thigh.

“You are testing me” He warned, naked flesh touching yours and hands entwining. You ignored him, the wetness dripping down your core begging his attention.

“Eat me” You cried, wiggling under him. He held fast, rubbing his cock on your abdomen, groaning softly. He nuzzled your neck, kissing softly on the spot he knew drove you wild. His weight prevented you from moving too much, not allowing you to do anything for yourself.

“You don’t tell me what to do baby. Not after letting another man touch you. Not after you walked out on me again.” He said angrily, forcing his gentle touch on your body that craved his roughness. You sobbed against his mouth, getting drunk on his lazy kisses and feather soft caresses. You knew what he was doing, you knew he wanted you to break and beg. And you had no dignity.

“Please” You begged, pathetically with tears in your eyes. “Give me what I want Chris. I’ll be good to you, I promise.”

He smirked, sucking a pert nipple in his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. You moaned, struggling to move more. It wasn’t enough to have you under him. He needed more than your compliance. He needed your surrender, he needed you to love him with a hunger as great as his. He was greedy.

“Even when you beg, you look like a goddess. You’re my angel, but I’m not gonna let you go to heaven. We’ll sin together in hell.”

He dove in, tongue swiping away your juice in a practiced move as you howled at the suddenness of his attack. Your thighs held his head captive between their plump flesh, mewls spilling from your mouth without restraint as he finally gave you what you wanted. You pulled on his hair, steering him closer to your core that was flaming under his mouth and flooding with pleasure.

“Oh Chris!” You moaned, writhing and trembling. You had missed his beard scratching the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, missed his nails digging in your flesh to keep you steady, missed his tongue poking inside your warm cavern to taste your sweet nectar. Chris never worshiped you like a devotee to the lord. He worshipped you like a man summoning the devil, by spilling blood and leaving marks that stain the soul.

“Look at you go darling, so beautiful” He praised, easing a finger inside you and curling it. You threw your head back, shattering with an orgasm that took your breath away. Pleasure was a feeling you were familiar with, but combined with Chris’s love and anger, it formed the most intoxicating mix that got you dizzy.

He kissed the swollen head of your clit, gently easing you down from your high with praises whispered directly to your leaking cunt. He cupped your pussy, grinding his heels against you as your eyes met.

“Nobody else will touch you here. Or anywhere else for that matter.” He ordered and you nodded, still desperate for him. His cock was red and angry, warm drops of precum leaking over your stomach and you tugged at him, asking to fill you up.

“Chris, I need you inside me. Please.”

He crawled up and laid beside you, jerking you on top of him. Your hands found his chest, lightly playing with his nipples and the spattering of hair there before moving down to cup his hardness and his balls. He jerked at the first contact, closing his eyes as his breath hitched and you smiled at your own effect over him. You could reduce him to a mess just as well he could to you.

Pumping his length, you licked it slowly, lathering it with your saliva. You remembered the day you’d named it Cumstopher Rogers and he’d slapped you with it, making you choke on him until you had to apologize.

“Put me inside you now because if I have to take over, I’ll choose which hole it goes in and you probably won’t like it.” He growled in impatience. You clenched, his threats going straight to your core.

You positioned yourself over him, sinking slowly and gently, feeling every part of him against your spongy walls. With your thighs flush to his, you stopped to just let the feeling of fullness last a little longer. No matter how many times you’d been with each other, the feeling of Chris being so deep inside you never got old. If you could, you’d never be empty.

“All my holes like your cock Mr. Evans. And I? I love it and your butt and your chest and arms and face and everything else.”

You moved at a slow pace, bouncing gently while holding onto his thighs. Taking his hand in yours, you placed it on your chest, asking him to play with your nipples as you rode him.

“You feeling powerful, baby? You feeling good bouncing on my dick?” He asked, pinching a nipple almost to the point of pain. You nodded, leaning down to kiss him as he started thrusting up a little, hitting your cervix when he went too deep. You rolled your belly, clenching your muscles around his length so that his eyes flew open and hands dug into the softness of your butt.

“Oh Chris, I missed this.” You told him, tasting the sweat on his temple. He nodded, his huge arms wrapping around you and pulling you intimately close.

“I missed you too, which is why I will make sure you never leave me. This is not your power move, this is mine.” He darkly murmured and your eyes met his in confusion. He looked at the side and you followed his gaze, mouth dropping open at the camera that blinked at you with a red light on.

“What the fuck, Chris?” You shout, trying to move away when he rolled you over and under him, thrusting in hard.

“Oh yes, what the fuck baby” He said, holding your wrists as he picked up his pace. “You think it’s okay to pack a bag and leave me every time? You think it’s okay to date other men, to kiss other men? You are mine. And if anyone needs proof of that, now I can show it to them.”

You cried out as he went harder, a pressure building deep inside your belly. Tears escaped your eyes, gazing into blue ones that you loved and hated with a passion. You could have asked him to stop now, you could shout that you don’t want him and he’s sick. But you didn’t. You knew he would stop if you really wanted him to, and as much as your heart broke and your chest tightened with hurt, you loved him. You loved his twisted ways to keep you with him. You loved it when he went above and beyond, got crazy in his desire for you. You were wanted. You were cherished.

“Fuck you.” You cursed, meeting every thrust of his with a raise of your hips. Your eyes closed, sweat dripping down your body as you let the animalistic part of you take over, screaming and tearing and fucking each other like two people whose only goal in life was to be embedded in the other’s heart and psyche.

“I’d like to see you try to walk out tomorrow after tonight.” Chris said, delivering punishing strokes that were agonizing and titillating, that were fire and ice. You held onto him, leaving crescent shaped scars to join the numerous tattoos across his body. He took you apart, fucked you so good all you could do was say him name and fall in a glittery haze of his presence. He came inside you, filling you to the brim and crushing your body with his weight.

You weren’t leaving, that much was obvious.

Throwing in your clothes haphazardly in the bag, you promised yourself this would be the last time you did this. You will not come back to this house and this bed. Chris and you were done for good. The past few months had followed the same pattern. You both rekindling the dying flame of your relationship, mending the broken hearts and trust until it went back to hell.

There were too many arguments, too much shouting and angry sex. Every time you sat down to talk, it ended with your legs in the air. Your mother was right. He wasn’t right for you. Chris wanted to be your hero and your villain. He wanted you to think of nobody but him. Any friends and family that warned you against him had to be cut off. He’ll dismiss every article the paparazzi published about him but would throw a fit if you so much as smiled at the cashier in the grocery store. He kept you close like a dog on a leash, feeling jealous at the very sight of you talking to any man. You’d wanted to give this relationship a chance, but as of twenty minutes ago, Chris had made sure it was over.

You wondered about taking your pictures, but it was better to stay away from any temptations. This was happening, and as much as it broke your heart, you will not come back to him. Zipping up your bag, you straightened just as Chris stormed inside the room, jaw clenched in anger.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He barked, “Put your stuff back. I’ll be damned if I let you leave me again.”

You scowled at him, wiping the stray tears from your eyes. He had no right to ask anything of you, not after what he had just done.

“Fuck off Chris. I am leaving, and you can’t stop me.” You shouldered past him, sadly looking at Dodger who was whining softly as he watched you move. He had seen this happen enough times to know that you’re not coming home.

Chris marched behind you, snatching your wrist and pulling you back to himself. The blue in his eyes was darker, like the sky covered in thunder clouds. You squirmed, pushing against him.

“You. Are. Not. Leaving.” He hissed, looking scary and mad.

“How dare you? After what you did today?” You sobbed, hitting your fists on his chest. He held your jaw, bringing your face closer to him so he could peer into your watery eyes.

“I proposed! I got down on one knee. What the fuck is your problem?” He shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.

You shook your head, looking at him with an expression of disbelief. Is he that oblivious?

“Marriage is permanent Chris” You said, voice suddenly soft. “Marriage is living your life devoted to your partner. We can’t break up and leave and come back again. It’s a responsibility. You and I, we haven’t been able to keep a stable relationship. How the hell will we keep a happy marriage?”

Chris frowned, not liking what you said. He pushed you against the wall, caging you in with his huge arms on either side. You could smell the chocolate and wine on his breath from dinner, his hair all messed up from when he ran his hands through it. On his neck still hung the necklace you’d got him.

“Look at me” He said, pressing his forehead to yours. You breathed deeply, finding it difficult to maintain an eye contact as charged with anger and passion as this one. “You love me, you still love me. It’s all in your eyes. Why won’t you marry me?”

You wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Why did loving him have to be so difficult? Was love worth the fights, the tears and pain and loss of independence? Was loving him enough to keep you going? You were so tired of this back and forth with him. You’d never even talked about marriage before, having been too busy trying to keep any sort of relationship alive. Why would he do this to you?

As your limbs got heavier, you leaned forward and hugged him. You held him to yourself, soaking in his warmth and smell inside you for what would be the last time. You could not give up so much of yourself to sustain this love. Soon enough, there would be nothing more to give and the love would be dead.

“You need to let me go Christopher” You said to him, lips close to his ear. “You need to understand that love is only the beginning. I can’t keep doing this anymore. Please, just let me go.”

Chris hugged you tighter, his head resting over yours and heart beating strong beneath your hand. He was your night, full of twinkling stars and dark mysteries. But dawn was approaching fast, and you needed to bid goodbye to the moon to greet the sun that awaited you.

“Never.” He promised, “You are never leaving me again. I’ll fucking make sure of it.”

He picked you up suddenly, ignoring your protests as he carried you back into the bedroom. Kicking your bag aside, he dropped you on the bed, raising a finger to stop you. He took out the ring from his pocket, the very one you had refused this evening and held it to you.

“Put this on.” He ordered and you rubbed your eyes in exasperation.

“No.”

You both glared at each other, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Fighting with Chris had always been a thrill, more often than not ending with wild sex on any and all surfaces in sight. But today you were determined to end it. You’d not let yourself become weak at the sight of his cock.

“Okay then, you’ve left me no choice.” Chris said. He picked up his phone and tapped away on it, doing god knows what. You sighed, getting up and putting your stuff together again, ignoring his presence behind you. Chris threw his phone on the bed, looking stoically at you work. You were just folding the last of your clothes when your phone started buzzing. You ignored it for a minute, but it kept up, almost falling off the table with its vibrations.

“What the fuck” You gasped, looking at the hundreds of notifications pouring in as more followed. You quickly opened your Instagram to see you’d been tagged by Chris.

And she said YES!

Below that caption was a picture of the both of you from a couple months ago, cuddled up and smiling at each other.

Comments and likes from everyone were popping in, and soon enough, you saw your mother’s call. You stared at Chris, utterly in disbelief. What had he done?

“Try saying no now. You’d be the bitch who broke Chris Evans’s heart, the bitch who played him. Try walking in public between people who’d see you only as a slut and nothing more.”

Your world came crashing down. You were not some hotshot celebrity like Chris. You were just a girl trying to live her life the best way she knew how to, and how it ended up entangled with this man you’d never understand. Even if you shouted from the rooftops the truth of today, no one would believe you. Chris’s fans would tear you to shreds, destroy your life with their mean comments and attacks. And your family would not be spared either. They’ll be exposed to a celebrity scandal, dragged through the mud along with your good name.

“Oh god Chris, what have you done?” You choked out, falling to your knees. He came before you, gently caressing your head before kneeling in front of you. Cupping your face, he kissed you deep and hard, countering your hate with his love that hit you like your own kryptonite.

“I told you. I told you I’ll never let you leave.” He breathed against your mouth, pulling you closer. You dug your nails in his arms, hurting him with the hurt he just caused you, but he didn’t even flinch.

“You’re a monster” You said, chest heaving with emotions.

“Yes, I am. But you know what darling?” He said sweetly, “Even after this, you still love me. I am a monster, but I am a monster you created and one you love.”

You ended up on the bed, sprawled underneath him again. Even with icy hate in your eyes, your heart burned with love for him. It was unnatural, it was chemical and wrong. And yet, it was your reality. He was yours, no matter what he did. And you were his, regardless of every protest that you ever made.

“Now, I’ll ask this one more time. Will you marry me?” He asked softly, looking at you like you were all he ever saw.

“Yes” You breathed, watching silently as he slipped the ring on your finger and kissed it. Meeting your eyes, he settled over your body, his arousal pulsing over your thigh. Sealing the deal with a kiss, Chris went to remove your shirt.

“Then let’s celebrate. After we’re done, we can call our families with the good news.”