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astrxq · 2 months ago

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HERE ME OUT PLEASE Spider-Man!cregan x reader. Cregan bump into reader at school when he is not in disguise and they became from then on, maybe? and meet reader again when he is in disguise (he could save her from being rob or save her while fighting villain.) which they also form a bond. They both sort of develop a crush on each other from then on Cregan is just smitten and reader is just like “I like this Spider-Man dude but I also like this Cregan guy”. Then one day spider!Cregan is injured and come to reader for help and reveal himself as Cregan. He confess to her that he just inlove with her since day one. Overall just fluff and cliché stuff.

(I’m srsly sorry if I made no sense at all😭🙏)

Between Masks and Moments

spider-man!cregan x reader

words: 13.5k

notes: this was longer than i intended it to be 😭 i thought i was about 6k words in and when i checked the word count it was already at 12k… but i hope you like it!

The first time you truly noticed Cregan Stark, it was because he nearly knocked you off your feet.

As you rounded the corner of the science building, lost in thought about the upcoming lecture, you collided with something solid. No, not something – someone. Your books tumbled to the ground, pages fluttering in the damp breeze, and you stumbled backward, nearly losing your footing.

"Oh, shit," a deep voice muttered. "I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."

You looked up, ready to brush off the apology with a quick 'no problem,' but the words died in your throat. Standing before you was Cregan Stark, the quiet, brooding guy from your biochemistry class. He was already crouching down, gathering your scattered belongings with large, careful hands.

You'd never been this close to him before. Sure, you'd stolen glances during lectures, admiring his strong jawline and the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he took notes. But now, mere inches away, you could see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the slight stubble on his chin that gave him a rugged appearance.

"It's okay," you finally managed to say, kneeling down to help him. "I wasn't really paying attention either."

Cregan's eyes met yours for a brief moment before quickly darting away. Was that a hint of a blush on his cheeks? No, it had to be the chill in the air.

"Here," he said, handing you your books. His voice was gruff, almost annoyed, but there was a gentleness in the way he handled your things that contradicted his tone. "Sorry again."

You took the books from him, your fingers accidentally brushing against his. A jolt of electricity seemed to pass between you, and you quickly pulled your hand back. "Thanks," you murmured.

Cregan stood up, and you couldn't help but notice how he towered over you. You'd always known he was tall, but up close, his presence was almost overwhelming. His broad shoulders seemed to block out the entire world behind him.

You straightened up, clutching your books to your chest, and for a moment, you were both frozen in the narrow hallway, caught in a strange, tense silence. Cregan shifted his weight, his brow furrowing even more, as if he was trying to decide whether to say something else or just walk away.

He settled on the former.

"You're in my biochem class, right?" His tone was still a bit gruff, but there was an underlying softness.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up. "Yeah, I am. You're Cregan, right?"

He gave a short, almost reluctant nod. "Yeah."

There was another pause, and you felt the awkwardness creeping in. But before it could fully take hold, Cregan surprised you by speaking again.

"Do you need help with that stuff?" He glanced at the stack of books in your arms, his expression hard to read.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. "I mean, if you're not in a hurry, I wouldn't mind."

Cregan exhaled a short breath, almost like a sigh, but he reached out anyway, taking half the books from your arms. His hands were warm and strong, and for a moment, you wondered what it would be like to hold them longer, to feel that warmth without the excuse of fallen books.

"Where to?" he asked, his voice softer now, less annoyed. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, something almost shy, though you'd never describe Cregan Stark as shy.

"The library," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "I was going to study before the next class."

Cregan gave another one of those short nods and started walking beside you, his long strides forcing you to pick up your pace. As you walked together, the silence between you wasn't as awkward as you'd expected. In fact, it was almost comfortable, as if Cregan's brooding presence somehow grounded you, made the chaotic noise of the school fade into the background.

When you reached the library, you stopped by one of the tables near the back, where it was quiet and the light was softer. Cregan set your books down, and for a moment, he just stood there, looking at them, then at you, like he was debating something in his head.

"Thanks for helping me out," you said, breaking the silence.

Cregan's eyes flicked up to meet yours, and there was that flicker of something again – a hint of warmth beneath the gruff exterior. "No problem," he muttered. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "See you in class."

You watched as he turned to leave, his broad back disappearing into the rows of bookshelves. It was only after he was gone that you realized you were still holding your breath. There was something about Cregan Stark that made your heart beat just a little faster, something that lingered in your thoughts long after he'd walked away.

As you sat down to study, you found it hard to focus. Your mind kept drifting back to the way his eyes had softened when he looked at you, the way his voice had gentled, just for a moment.

For Cregan, that collision in the hallway was both a dream come true and his worst nightmare.

He'd noticed you on the first day of class, drawn to your quiet intelligence and the way your eyes lit up when you understood a particularly difficult concept. Over the weeks, he'd found himself stealing glances at you during lectures, admiring the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating, or how you'd bite your lip when you were deep in thought.

But Cregan had never allowed himself to entertain the possibility of actually talking to you. His life was complicated enough without adding romantic entanglements to the mix. Between his duties as Spider-Man, his studies, and the constant struggle to make ends meet, he'd convinced himself that he didn't have time for a relationship. Besides, he reasoned, what could he possibly offer someone like you?

So he'd contented himself with admiring you from afar, treasuring those small moments of connection when you'd make eye contact across the lecture hall or exchange polite nods in the hallway. He told himself it was enough, that his crush was just a harmless distraction from the weight of his responsibilities.

But now, as he walked away from the library, his heart was pounding in a way that had nothing to do with his spider-enhanced physiology. The memory of your touch, brief as it was, sent electricity coursing through his veins. The scent of your shampoo lingered in his nostrils, and he couldn't shake the image of your eyes looking up at him, wide with surprise and something else... interest, maybe?

Cregan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't afford to get distracted, not now. There was a chemistry lab to prepare for, and after that, he had to patrol the city. The weight of his responsibilities settled back onto his shoulders, and he felt his expression harden into its usual brooding mask.

But as he pushed open the door to the science building, he couldn't help but glance back towards the library. For the first time in a long while, Cregan allowed himself to wonder: what if?

_________

The next few days passed in a blur of lectures, lab work, and late-night patrols. You found yourself paying more attention to Cregan in class, noticing things you'd overlooked before. The way his brow furrowed when he was concentrating, the slight twitch of his lips when the professor made a particularly bad science pun, the graceful strength in his hands as he manipulated lab equipment.

Sometimes, you caught him looking at you too. His gaze would quickly dart away, but not before you noticed a softness in his eyes that contrasted sharply with his usual gruff demeanor. It made you wonder what was going on behind that brooding exterior.

You'd exchanged a few more words since your collision – a quiet "hey" as you took your seats, a muttered "thanks" when he held the door for you. Each time, you felt a little thrill of... something. Anticipation? Curiosity? You couldn't quite put your finger on it.

It was Friday evening when everything changed.

The streets were unusually quiet for a Friday night. Most people were already indoors, safe from the impending downpour. You turned down a narrow alley, a familiar shortcut you often took when in a hurry. The light from the streetlamps barely penetrated the shadows here, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. You told yourself it was just your imagination, that the looming storm and the empty streets were playing tricks on your mind.

But as you reached the halfway point of the alley, you heard it – a soft rustling, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickened your pace, your breath catching in your throat.

"Hey, where are you heading so fast?" a voice called out. You didn’t dare look back, your instincts screaming at you to keep moving.

The footsteps grew closer, the tension wrapping around you like a vice. You were almost at the end of the alley when a figure stepped out of the shadows ahead, blocking your path. He was tall, with a lean, wiry build and a predatory grin that sent a shiver down your spine.

"What's the rush?" he asked, his voice mockingly sweet. The way he stood, arms loose at his sides, suggested a confidence that chilled you to the bone. You were trapped.

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but the options were grim. You could scream, but who would hear you? Your phone was buried in your bag, useless in the face of such immediate danger.

As the man stepped closer, you took a shaky step back, only to feel a solid wall of muscle behind you. Another one, you realized with a sinking heart. You were cornered.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for whatever was to come. But before the situation could escalate, a sound split the air – a sharp, almost imperceptible *thwip*.

And then, everything happened at once.

A blur of red and blue dropped down from above, moving with a speed and precision that left you breathless. The man behind you was yanked away, a startled yelp escaping his lips as he was thrown against the wall, his hands and feet bound by sticky webbing. The other barely had time to react before he too was disarmed and pinned to the ground, a web cocoon forming around him in seconds.

You stood frozen, eyes wide with shock, as Spider-Man – the Spider-Man – landed lightly in front of you. His eyes, hidden behind those iconic white lenses, seemed to scan you for any sign of injury. The air around you crackled with tension, but now it was a different kind – the kind that came with knowing you were safe, even if only for the moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice muffled but unmistakably concerned.

You nodded numbly, unable to find your voice. Up close, Spider-Man was even more imposing than you’d imagined, but there was something comforting in his presence, something that made the terror of the last few minutes begin to ebb away.

"Good," he said, his tone gentle now. He hesitated, moving to place a hand on your arm but not quite reaching you before he pulled back. “Do you need water or something?”

You glanced at the two thugs, now securely webbed to the walls, and couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude mixed with disbelief. You’d been saved by Spider-Man – a hero who was as much a myth as he was a reality in your mind. Unable to find your voice, you shook your head.

"Thank you," you finally managed to say, your voice shaky but sincere.

He tilted his head slightly, as if studying you. "It’s no problem. But it’s not safe to be out here alone, especially this late. Do you need a lift home?"

The offer caught you off guard. A lift home? With Spider-Man?

You hesitated, then nodded. "That...that would be great."

Without another word, Spider-Man stepped closer, slipping an arm around your waist with surprising ease, as if he’d done this a thousand times before. Your heart raced – not from fear, but from the sudden closeness, the way his presence seemed to envelop you.

"Hold on tight," he instructed, his voice calm and reassuring.

Before you could fully process what was happening, he shot a web into the night sky and the ground disappeared beneath you. You clung to him instinctively, your eyes squeezing shut as the wind rushed past your face, cool and refreshing in the humid night air.

All too soon, after you’d instructed him the way to your home, the flight ended as Spider-Man landed gracefully on the fire escape outside your apartment window. He set you down gently, his arm lingering around your waist for just a second longer than necessary before he pulled away.

"Home sweet home," he quipped, his tone light.

You took a step back, trying to steady your breath. "Thank you," you said again, your voice softer this time. "Really, I don’t know how to repay you."

Spider-Man didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he seemed to hesitate, as if debating something internally. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "Mind if I hang out here for a bit? The view’s not bad."

You blinked in surprise. Was Spider-Man asking to stay? With you? The night was full of surprises, it seemed.

"Sure," you said, moving towards the window and gesturing for him to follow. "I’ve never had a guest on my fire escape before."

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a strange warmth through you. "First time for everything."

You both settled onto the metal platform, the city spread out before you like a living, breathing canvas. The air was cool now, the storm holding off for just a little longer, and for a moment, you simply sat there in silence, letting the night speak for itself.

"You live here alone?" he asked after a while, his voice quieter now, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing over at him. His mask hid his expression, but there was a certain softness in the way he held himself, a relaxation you hadn’t expected. "It’s not much, but it’s home."

He nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "It must get lonely sometimes."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. You weren’t sure if he was talking about you or himself, but either way, you felt an odd connection in that moment, a shared understanding of what it meant to be alone in a city full of people.

"Sometimes," you admitted, your gaze drifting back to the city skyline. "But I guess that’s just part of life, right?"

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice almost lost in the breeze. "Part of life."

For a while longer, you both sat there, the city a quiet hum in the background. And in that silence, there was a comfort, a sense of companionship that neither of you had expected but both seemed to need.

“Do you want pizza?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. At the mention of food, his head shot up.

“You’ve got pizza?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. “Yeah, I do. It’s leftover from earlier. It’s probably cold by now, but–”

Spider-Man’s enthusiasm seemed to overflow. “Cold pizza is fine! In fact, it’s the best kind of pizza!”

You laughed, the sound bright and clear in the night air. It felt strange, yet oddly comforting, to share such a simple moment with someone who seemed so larger-than-life.

“Alright then, let me grab it,” you said, moving toward the window. As you opened it and stepped inside, you could feel Spider-Man’s eyes on you.

You retrieved the pizza from the fridge, the box still warm from its earlier stint in the oven. Returning to the fire escape, you offered it to Spider-Man with a shy, almost playful grin.

“Here you go,” you said, handing over the box. “Cold pizza and all.”

He took it eagerly, setting it down beside him on the metal ledge.

You took a seat next to him, the cool metal beneath you grounding you after the adrenaline of the earlier encounter. The city lights below twinkled like stars, and for a moment, the chaos of the evening seemed to fade away.

Spider-Man popped open the pizza box, revealing a slightly congealed but still appetizing array of toppings. He pulled out a slice with deft movements and took a large bite, pulling up his mask just enough for you to not be able to make out his identity, his mask making the act look both humorous and oddly endearing.

"So," Spider-Man said as he took another bite, "late night at the library?"

You blinked, surprised by the casual conversation. "How did you know?"

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "The stack of textbooks in your bag was a pretty big clue.”

You laughed, the sound mingling with the distant rumble of thunder as the storm prepared to make its entrance. "I guess I should have guessed you'd notice something like that."

Spider-Man nodded, a playful glint visible in the sliver of his eyes. "It's kind of my thing to notice details. Helps with the whole hero gig."

You bit into a slice of pizza, the cold cheese and slightly chewy crust a comforting contrast to the evening’s chaos. Spider-Man’s relaxed demeanor made it feel like you were just two friends sharing a late-night snack, not someone in need of rescue and the rescuer himself.

"What's your favorite topping?" you asked, trying to steer the conversation to something light.

He looked at the slice in his hand, contemplating. "Pepperoni. Classic choice, but it’s hard to beat."

You grinned. “Pepperoni?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I have to say, bacon is the superior topping.”

Spider-Man’s eyes widened behind his mask, and he mock-gasped, holding his pizza slice up as if it were a shield. “Bacon? How could you betray the classic pepperoni like that?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the fire escape’s metal railing.

“You can’t be serious,” Spider-Man said, feigning outrage. “Pepperoni is a staple. Bacon is great, don’t get me wrong, but it doesn’t hold a candle to a well-cooked pepperoni slice.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling at his animated reaction. “Bacon adds a crispy, savory kick that pepperoni just can’t match. And don’t tell me you haven’t had bacon on pizza before. It’s like a flavor explosion.”

“Flavor explosion?” Spider-Man’s voice was incredulous, but there was a hint of laughter in it. “More like a greasy mess. And don’t get me started on how bacon can overshadow the other toppings. Pepperoni complements the cheese, the sauce – it’s harmonious.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Spider-Man’s dramatic reaction. The absurdity of debating pizza toppings with a superhero in the middle of the night struck you as hilariously surreal.

“Oh, come on,” you said, shaking your head. “Bacon doesn’t overshadow. It complements! It’s like having a surprise party on your pizza. You take a bite, and bam! – there’s the crispy, smoky goodness.”

Spider-Man pretended to shudder. “A surprise party?” he chuckled. “Agree to disagree. I’m sticking with my classic.”

You smiled, “I’ll take that as my win.”

You couldn’t quite believe it. There you were, sitting on your fire escape, and locked in a passionate debate about pizza toppings with Spider-Man. Spider-Man. The same superhero who swung through the night, fighting villains and saving lives. And here he was, playfully defending pepperoni against your undying love for bacon.

It felt like a scene plucked from a dream – a surreal interlude where the chaos of the night melted away into a shared moment of absurdity and connection. Inside your tiny apartment, the city was a backdrop, a distant hum of life and noise that barely intruded on this bizarrely intimate conversation.

The superhero was right there, his masked face only partially visible in the dim light, but clearly animated and engaged in a debate over something as trivial as pizza toppings.

"I might have to swing by more often just to change your mind about that pizza."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Oh?" you managed, trying to keep your voice steady. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

Spider-Man tilted his head, and even though you couldn't see his face, you could almost feel the grin behind his mask. "Well," he said, his voice low and teasing, "I could always bring you some properly topped pizza. Show you the error of your bacon-loving ways."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words. The thought of Spider-Man swinging by again, just to bring you pizza, seemed both thrilling and strangely domestic.

"I'd like that," you said softly, surprising yourself with your honesty. "Though I think you'll have a hard time converting me."

Spider-Man chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "Challenge accepted," he said, his voice tinged with a playfulness that made your heart race.

For a moment, you both fell silent, the weight of the evening's events settling back over you. The pizza box lay empty between you, a testament to the strange normalcy you'd managed to carve out of this surreal situation.

Finally, Spider-Man stood, stretching as if preparing to leave. "I should get going. There’s always more to do."

You nodded, a pang of disappointment tugging at your heart. "Thanks again, for everything."

He turned to face you, and for a moment, you thought you saw a hint of a smile beneath his mask. "Anytime," he said, his voice warm. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Before you could answer, he gave a final nod, and in a graceful, practiced motion, he leaped off the fire escape. For a moment, you watched as he soared into the night, his silhouette briefly illuminated by the distant streetlights. Then, with a soft whoosh, he was gone, disappearing into the urban tapestry of lights and shadows.

That night, as you laid in bed, your mind raced with thoughts of both Cregan and Spider-Man. The quiet, brooding boy from your class and the witty, heroic figure who had saved you – they couldn't be more different. And yet, there was something about both of them that drew you in, that made you want to know more.

Little did you know, across the city, Cregan was having similar thoughts about you. As he peeled off his Spider-Man suit, wincing at the bruises from his earlier fight, he couldn't shake the memory of holding you close as he swung through the city. He'd been drawn to you for weeks, admiring you from afar in class. But tonight, he'd gotten a taste of what it might be like to be close to you, to talk to you without the awkwardness that always seemed to plague him as Cregan.

As Spider-Man, he could be confident, even flirtatious. He could say the things he'd always wanted to say to you but never had the courage to. It was liberating, but also terrifying. Because now, more than ever, he wanted to know you, to be close to you. But how could he do that without revealing his secret? How could he be both the Cregan you knew from class and the Spider-Man who had saved you tonight?

_________

The week following your encounter with Spider-Man was a strange blend of normalcy and surreal anticipation. You went about your daily routine – attending classes, studying, grabbing coffee with friends – but there was an undercurrent of excitement, a constant awareness that at any moment, you might spot a flash of red and blue swinging between buildings.

For Cregan, the week was a torturous exercise in self-restraint. Every time he saw you in class or passed you in the hallway, his heart rate spiked. He found himself torn between an overwhelming desire to talk to you and a paralyzing fear of giving himself away.

The first few days, he limited himself to small, careful interactions. A wave as you entered the lecture hall. A nod of acknowledgment when your eyes met across the cafeteria. Each time, he felt a surge of warmth at your answering smile, but he always pulled back before he could do or say anything more.

At night, as he patrolled the city, Cregan found his thoughts constantly drifting back to you. He'd catch himself swinging past your apartment building, telling himself he was just checking to make sure you were safe. But deep down, he knew he was hoping for another chance encounter, another opportunity to talk to you as Spider-Man.

By Thursday, the tension was becoming unbearable. Cregan knew he couldn't keep this up indefinitely. He had to make a decision – either find a way to approach you as Cregan Stark or risk losing any chance of a real connection.

It was Friday afternoon when he finally worked up the courage to act. He spotted you entering the library, arms full of books. Taking a deep breath, Cregan followed you inside.

He watched as you settled at a table near the back, the same spot where he'd left you after your collision the week before. For a moment, he hesitated, second-guessing himself. What if you didn't want to be bothered? What if you preferred the quiet, grumpy Cregan from class and were put off by any attempt at friendliness?

But then he remembered the way you'd laughed with Spider-Man, the easy conversation you'd shared over cold pizza. He wanted that – not just as his masked alter ego, but as himself.

Squaring his shoulders, Cregan approached your table. When you didn’t look up, he cleared his throat.

"Hey," he said softly, mindful of the library's quiet atmosphere. "Mind if I join you?"

You looked up, surprise evident in your eyes. For a heart-stopping moment, Cregan thought you might say no. But then your expression softened into a smile. "Sure," you replied, gesturing to the empty chair next to you as you cleared the table for him. "There's plenty of room."

Cregan sat down, trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering in his chest. Up close, he could see the flecks of color in your eyes, the same ones he'd admired from behind his mask. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say.

"Biochem midterm?" he asked, nodding towards the textbook open in front of you.

You nodded, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice. "Yeah. I'm still struggling with some of the enzyme kinetics concepts."

Cregan felt a flutter of excitement. This, he could handle. Science was his element, a language he spoke fluently even when words failed him in other areas. "I could help, if you want," he offered, his voice gruff but tinged with genuine eagerness. "I've got a pretty good handle on that stuff."

Your eyes lit up, and Cregan felt his breath catch. "Really? That would be amazing. I've been staring at these diagrams for hours, and they're still not making sense."

As Cregan leaned in to look at your textbook, he felt some of his nervousness begin to ebb away. This was familiar territory – explaining scientific concepts, breaking down complex ideas into simpler parts.

You shifted your chair slightly closer to his, your shoulder brushing against his arm as you both peered down at the open textbook. Cregan felt a jolt of electricity at the contact, his skin tingling where you'd touched. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with an energy that made his heart race even faster.

He focused on the page, the neatly printed equations and diagrams suddenly feeling more daunting than they'd ever been in his own studies. But you were looking at him expectantly, and Cregan knew he had to push through the nerves that threatened to steal his voice.

"Okay, so," he began, his voice just above a whisper, "enzyme kinetics can be tricky because it’s all about how the enzymes interact with the substrates. Think of it like... a dance. Each enzyme has a specific partner, and the speed of the reaction depends on how well they fit together and move in sync."

You nodded, leaning in closer, your brow furrowed in concentration. Cregan’s eyes flicked to your face, catching the way your lips pursed slightly as you tried to grasp the concept. He found himself lingering on the curve of your mouth, the soft glow of your skin under the library’s dim lighting.

As he explained further, your questions came, your voice soft and inviting, drawing him deeper into the conversation. Each time you spoke, Cregan’s heart would stutter, your words weaving into the atmosphere between you. He would catch himself staring at your hands as they moved across the page, slender fingers tracing the diagrams he described, and wonder what it would feel like to hold them.

The tension from earlier began to melt away, replaced by a quiet intimacy that neither of you had expected. Cregan leaned in even closer, his shoulder now pressed fully against yours. You didn’t move away – instead, you tilted your head towards him, so close that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his cheek.

The library seemed to fade around you, the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant shuffle of pages and whispers all but disappearing. It was just the two of you, cocooned in a bubble of soft words and shared focus. Cregan felt his guard lowering, the lines between Cregan Stark and Spider-Man blurring as he let himself enjoy this simple, honest moment with you.

Every time you asked a question, Cregan felt a little more of his confidence return. He could see the frustration in your eyes begin to ease, replaced by a spark of understanding that made him want to keep talking, keep sharing this part of himself with you.

Finally, after what felt like both a brief and endless stretch of time, you smiled – a real, bright smile that made something in Cregan’s chest ache with warmth.

“That actually makes sense now. I don’t know how to thank you, Cregan.” you said, leaning back in your chair, though still close enough that your knees brushed his under the table.

Cregan's breath hitched at the sound of his name on your lips, soft and full of gratitude. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady as he replied, "I’m glad I could help. It’s, uh, nice to talk about this stuff with someone who gets it." His words trailed off into a nervous laugh, his gaze flicking between your eyes and the textbook.

You laughed softly, a sound that made Cregan’s pulse quicken. "Well, I’m lucky to have found the best tutor around," you teased, the warmth in your tone making his cheeks flush.

Cregan’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all centering on the impossible closeness of you, the way your laughter wrapped around him like a soft blanket. He wanted to say more, to tell you how much he’d been thinking about you, how every time he saw you, he felt a pull he couldn’t explain. But he held back, scared to break the delicate balance of this moment.

Instead, he settled for a simple, "Anytime," the word heavy with everything he wasn’t brave enough to say out loud.

As the silence stretched between you, neither of you moved away. Cregan's hand rested on the edge of the table, fingers inching just a bit closer to where yours lay, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you’d pull away.

But you didn’t.

“Would you tutor me for biochem? I can pay you,”

Your question hung in the air between you, and Cregan’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected you to ask, and the offer of payment made something in him twist uncomfortably. You were offering him something concrete, something logical – an exchange of services – but that wasn’t what he wanted. Not really.

He hesitated, searching your eyes for any sign that you were asking out of more than just academic need. But all he saw was sincerity, a touch of hopefulness, and maybe, just maybe, something else – a faint flicker of warmth that made him wonder if you felt the same connection he did.

Cregan swallowed hard, feeling the tension rise in his chest. The last thing he wanted was for this to become transactional, something that would reduce your time together to a simple tutor-student dynamic. He didn’t want your money. He wanted your company, your laughter, the way your presence seemed to quiet the rest of the world.

“No, you don’t have to pay me,” he stammered, his voice softer than he intended. “I’d be happy to help. Really. I mean, it’s kind of fun, right? We can just, uh, study together whenever you need. No strings attached.”

The words tumbled out awkwardly, but he meant every one of them. He watched you carefully, nervous about how you’d react. For a split second, he worried that maybe you’d misunderstand – that you’d think he wasn’t taking you seriously, or that he was brushing off your offer.

But then you smiled, a slow, warm curve of your lips that made Cregan’s pulse quicken again. “Are you sure?” you asked, though there was a lightness in your tone now, as if you’d already guessed his answer. “I don’t want to take up your time for nothing.”

Cregan shook his head, his own smile starting to form. “It’s not nothing,” he said, feeling a bit of his confidence return. “Besides, I could use the review too. Biochem’s always easier with someone else to bounce ideas off of.”

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. But I owe you a coffee at least. No arguments. That’s non-negotiable.”

Cregan’s heart soared at the thought of spending more time with you, of sharing something as simple and normal as a cup of coffee. It wasn’t a date – not exactly – but it felt like a step closer to something more, something real. He nodded quickly, eager to accept any excuse to see you outside of class, outside of these quiet, studious moments.

“Deal,” he said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic, though he knew he was failing miserably. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck, his nerves returning in full force.

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, charged with an unspoken understanding that went beyond the words you’d exchanged. Cregan’s hand was still on the edge of the table, close to yours, and he wondered if you’d noticed just how near they were.

But before he could overthink it, you shifted slightly, your fingers brushing against his as you adjusted your textbook. It was the smallest of touches, but it sent a shiver up Cregan’s spine, his skin buzzing with the sensation.

“Tomorrow?” you asked, your voice soft but steady. “For the coffee? We can meet after class.”

Cregan nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “Tomorrow,” he echoed, feeling like it couldn’t come fast enough. The thought of seeing you again, of sitting across from you with a cup of coffee, made everything else fade into the background.

As he watched you disappear around the corner of a bookshelf, Cregan let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His mind was already racing ahead to tomorrow, to the coffee shop, to the prospect of spending more time with you outside of the confines of the classroom or library.

But as the initial rush of excitement began to fade, a familiar anxiety started to creep in. How was he going to balance this? His life as Cregan Stark, college student and potential friend (maybe more?) to you, with his responsibilities as Spider-Man? What if there was an emergency during their coffee... not-date? What if you started to notice his frequent disappearances, his unexplained bruises?

You found yourself replaying your conversation in your mind, smiling at the memory of his shy smiles and the way his eyes lit up when he talked. There was something about Cregan Stark that intrigued you, a depth that you were eager to explore further.

But as much as Cregan occupied your thoughts, you couldn't shake the memory of your encounter with Spider-Man. The masked hero's wit and charm had left an impression, and you often found yourself glancing up at the sky, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of red and blue swinging between buildings.

It was a week after your encounter when your path crossed with Spider-Man again. You were walking home late, having stayed at the library longer than intended, your mind still buzzing with biochemistry formulas and the lingering warmth of your interactions with Cregan.

The street was quiet, the air cool and crisp with the promise of autumn. You were so lost in thought that you almost missed the soft thud behind you. Almost.

"You know, it's dangerous to walk alone at night," a familiar voice called out, playful but with an undercurrent of concern. "Even in this neighborhood."

You spun around, your heart leaping into your throat. There, perched on a nearby lamppost, was Spider-Man, his masked face tilted towards you in a way that suggested he was smiling.

"Are you following me?" a mix of surprise and excitement coloring your voice.

He chuckled, the sound sending a small shiver down your spine. "Just keeping an eye on the city," he replied, his tone light. "But I have to admit, I'm glad I ran into you again. How've you been?"

You couldn't help but smile, the tension in your shoulders easing. "I've been good," you said, taking a step closer to the lamppost. "No more late-night alley adventures, if that's what you're asking."

Spider-Man laughed again, dropping down from the lamppost to stand in front of you. Even with the mask, you could sense his amusement. "Good to hear. Though I have to say, I was hoping for an excuse to swoop in and save the day again."

There was something in his voice, a hint of flirtation that made your pulse quicken. You raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Oh? And here I thought you had plenty of other damsels in distress to rescue."

"Ah, but none quite as intriguing as you," he quipped, his head tilting in a way that made you wonder what expression he was wearing beneath the mask.

You felt a blush creep up your neck, thankful for the dim streetlight that probably hid it. "Intriguing, huh? I'm not sure whether to be flattered or worried."

Spider-Man took a step closer, and you were suddenly very aware of his presence, the way he seemed to radiate a mix of confidence and nervous energy. "Definitely flattered," he said, his voice softer now. "Trust me, it takes a lot to catch a spider's attention."

You laughed, the sound slightly breathless. "Well, consider me honored then," you replied, surprised by your own boldness. "Though I have to say, you're pretty intriguing yourself, Spider-Man."

He seemed to stand a little straighter at that, and you could almost imagine the grin behind his mask. "Oh yeah? Care to elaborate on that?"

You pretended to consider for a moment, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "I hear you have excellent taste in pizza toppings."

Spider-Man laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Ah, so my reputation precedes me. Though I still maintain that pepperoni is superior to bacon."

You gasped in mock offense. "And here I thought we were getting along so well. Clearly, I was mistaken."

"Maybe I could change your mind," he said, his tone playful but with an undercurrent of something more. You didn’t know how you hadn’t seen the pizza box he was hiding behind his back until he held it up. “Might just change your mind.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the pizza box. "You brought pizza? Were you planning this encounter, Spider-Man?" you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice.

He shrugged, the movement oddly graceful. "Let's just say I had a hunch I might run into you. And I never pass up an opportunity to prove the superiority of pepperoni."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement. "Well, far be it from me to turn down free pizza. But where exactly are we going to eat it? I don't think the sidewalk is the most romantic spot for a pizza date."

The word 'date' slipped out before you could stop it, and you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. Spider-Man seemed to pause for a moment, and you wondered if he was blushing too, beneath that mask.

"Date, huh?" he said, his voice a mix of surprise and pleasure. "Well, if it's romance you're after, I think I know just the spot. Do you trust me?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm not sure if I should trust a man in a mask, but..."

Spider-Man stepped closer, and your breath caught in your throat. "Hold on tight," he said, his voice low and warm.

Before you could fully process what was happening, his arm was around your waist, pulling you close against his side. You barely had time to wrap your arms around his neck before he shot a web upwards, and suddenly, you were airborne.

The city rushed by in a blur of lights and shadows, the cool night air whipping past you. You clung tightly to Spider-Man, your heart racing from a mixture of adrenaline and proximity. His body was warm and solid against yours, and even through the suit, you could feel the strength in his arms as he held you securely.

After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, you landed softly on a rooftop. Spider-Man gently set you down, his hand lingering on your waist for just a moment longer than necessary.

"You okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, slightly breathless. "Yeah, I'm... wow. That was incredible."

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you gasped softly. The rooftop offered a stunning view of the city skyline, lights twinkling like stars against the night sky. It was beautiful, peaceful in a way you'd never experienced the city before.

"This is amazing," you said softly, turning to look at Spider-Man. "How did you find this place?"

He shrugged, setting the pizza box down on a nearby ledge. "I swing by a lot of rooftops. This one's always been a favorite. It's quiet, and the view... well, it speaks for itself."

You nodded in agreement, moving to sit on the ledge next to the pizza box. Spider-Man joined you, his movements fluid and graceful.

"So," he said, opening the box and revealing a steaming pepperoni pizza, "ready to have your mind changed about the ultimate pizza topping?"

You laughed, reaching for a slice. "We'll see about that. I'm not easily swayed."

As you both ate, you fell into easy conversation. Spider-Man was witty and charming, his jokes making you laugh even as you rolled your eyes. But there were moments, brief flashes when his voice would soften or he'd tilt his head in a certain way, that reminded you startlingly of Cregan.

You pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the surreal experience of sharing pizza on a rooftop with a superhero. As the night wore on and the pizza dwindled, you found yourself relaxing, leaning slightly closer to Spider-Man.

"Okay," you admitted finally, "I have to say, this pepperoni pizza is pretty good."

Spider-Man pumped his fist in victory. "I knew it! Another convert to the pepperoni side."

You laughed, nudging his shoulder playfully. "Don't get too cocky. I still maintain that bacon has its merits."

He turned to face you, and even though you couldn't see his eyes, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. "Guess I'll just have to keep trying to convince you," he said softly.

His words hung in the air between you, charged with an energy that made your heart race. You found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by the warmth of his presence and the intimacy of the moment.

"Is that a promise?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spider-Man's hand twitched, as if he was about to reach out to you, but he caught himself. "It might be," he replied, his tone a mix of playfulness and something deeper, more sincere. "If you're interested in more rooftop pizza, that is."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I might be," you echoed his words, your eyes never leaving his masked face. "Though I have to warn you, I'm not easily won over. It might take a lot of convincing."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I'm up for the challenge."

For a moment, you both sat in comfortable silence, the city sprawling out beneath you like a living, breathing entity. The cool night air carried the faint sounds of traffic and distant sirens, reminding you of the world beyond this rooftop.

"Can I ask you something?" you said finally, turning to face him fully.

Spider-Man nodded, his posture shifting to give you his full attention. "Shoot."

You hesitated, wondering if you were crossing a line. "What's it like? Being... you? Having all this power, this responsibility?"

He was quiet for a long moment, and you worried you'd overstepped. But then he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "It's... complicated," he said finally. "It's exhilarating, knowing I can make a difference, save lives. But it's also terrifying. There's always the fear of not being fast enough, strong enough. Or, well – death."

His honesty caught you off guard. You'd expected a quip, maybe a lighthearted deflection. Instead, you got a glimpse of the person behind the mask, vulnerable and achingly human.

Without thinking, you reached out, placing your hand on his arm. "That sounds incredibly difficult," you said softly. "But for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job. This city is lucky to have you."

Spider-Man looked down at your hand, then back up to your face. Even through the mask, you could sense the intensity of his gaze. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "That... means a lot."

You smiled, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before pulling your hand back. As you did, you couldn't help but notice the firm muscles beneath the suit, the strength coiled just beneath the surface.

Clearing your throat, you looked back out at the city, trying to calm your racing heart. "So, um, do you bring all the girls you save up here for pizza, or am I special?" you asked, aiming for a teasing tone to lighten the mood.

Spider-Man laughed, the sound lighter now. "Oh, definitely special," he said, bumping his shoulder against yours playfully. "It's not every day I meet someone who can challenge my pizza topping supremacy."

You grinned, feeling the tension ease. "Well, I'm honored.”

Before you could dwell on it, a distant siren pierced the night air. Spider-Man's head snapped towards the sound, his body tensing.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning back to you with obvious reluctance. "I have to..."

You nodded, understanding. "Go," you said softly. "It’s okay, I’ll find my way back."

He stood, hesitating for a moment. Then, in a move that surprised you both, he reached out and squeezed your hand gently. "Thanks for... this," he said, gesturing vaguely at the rooftop, the remnants of your pizza dinner. "It was nice to just be... me for a while."

Your heart fluttered at his words, at the warmth of his hand on yours. "Anytime, Spider-Man," you replied, meaning it more than you'd expected to.

With a final nod, he stepped to the edge of the roof. "Hold on tight," he said, and before you could ask what he meant, he had scooped you up in his arms.

The journey back to street level was a blur of exhilaration and barely suppressed laughter. When your feet touched the ground, you felt oddly bereft, missing the warmth of his arms around you.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Would you want to do this again? I mean, maybe not the rooftop pizza – " you laughed lightly, “ – but just, you know, hanging out. Talking. I like it. I like… getting to know you."

He seemed to pause, his head tilting slightly as if he was considering something. Then he nodded. "I’d like that," he said, his tone softer, almost hesitant.

You found yourself smiling, a real one that reached your eyes, as you nodded back. "Great. Maybe... Thursday? Same time? We could meet on the fire scape, like last time.”

He mirrored your smile, though his was a little crooked, like he wasn't used to showing it. "Thursday works."

Neither of you moved to leave just yet. There was a comfortable silence that hung between you, the kind that didn’t demand to be filled. The cool breeze tousled your hair, and you felt the weight of the evening settle in, a sense of contentment mixing with the anticipation of what was to come.

But eventually, reality seeped back in. He straightened, his hand gripping the railing as if grounding himself before he stepped back.

"Stay safe," Spider-Man said, already preparing to swing away.

"You too," you called after him, watching as he disappeared into the night sky.

As you made your way home, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The quiet, brooding Cregan Stark and the charming, mysterious Spider-Man occupied equal space in your mind, leaving you more confused than ever about your own feelings.

As Cregan swung through the city, responding to the siren's call, he couldn't shake the memory of your smile, the warmth of your hand on his arm, the way you'd spoken about him.

He knew he was walking a dangerous line, but in that moment, with the wind rushing past him and the city spread out below, Cregan couldn't bring himself to regret a single moment of the evening he'd just shared with you.

_________

Cregan’s fingers drummed repeatedly on the paper cup in front of him. Your notes were scattered over the table, formulas and equations that had been giving you grief for days now.

He glanced up from the problem you were stuck on, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Alright,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Let’s go over it one more time. You’re getting tripped up in the same spot.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the frustration that had been building all week. “I know, it’s just… it doesn’t make sense in my head. I don’t see the connection.”

Cregan paused, his fingers halting their drumming. He leaned in slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was holding back a reassuring smile.

“You’re overthinking it. You’ve got the basics down, you just need to trust yourself. Here,” Cregan pointed to a specific equation on your notes, his fingers brushing lightly against the paper as he spoke.

"See here? This is where you’re losing the thread. You’re thinking too far ahead instead of focusing on this step. Just break it down."

His voice was calm, steady, almost like a grounding force that pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. You nodded, trying to absorb his advice. There was something about the way he explained things that made it easier to understand, like he knew exactly where you were getting lost and how to guide you back.

You worked through the problem again, this time more slowly, following his guidance. Cregan watched you intently, his gaze unwavering, as if he could tell you would find the answer just by being there. And then, finally, it clicked.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, the solution suddenly clear as day. “I get it now. It was just that one step throwing me off.”

A small smile tugged at Cregan’s lips, the kind of smile that was rare from him, but when it appeared, it felt like the sun breaking through clouds. “Told you. You’ve got this.”

You grinned back, the weight of your earlier frustration lifting. “Thanks, Cregan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal, but you could see the flicker of something softer in his eyes. “You’d figure it out eventually. I’m just here to make it easier.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence that settled between you as you sipped your coffee. Outside, people bustled by, unaware of the quiet connection forming at your little table in the café.

You glanced at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. “You know, you’re really good at this. Helping people, I mean.”

Cregan looked almost embarrassed by the compliment, his gaze dropping to his cup. “I just… I like helping you. That’s all.”

His words hung in the air, simple yet heavy with meaning. You felt your heart skip a beat, unsure of how to respond. Instead, you simply smiled, letting the moment stretch out between you, full of unspoken things.

Eventually, Cregan cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, uh, you ready for the next problem?”

You nodded, grateful for the distraction but also for the time you had with him, these small moments that seemed to mean more than you could fully understand.

As you worked through the next set of problems, you found yourself more attuned to Cregan’s presence than the equations in front of you. His focus was sharp, eyes scanning your notes with an intensity that seemed out of place for something as mundane as math. Yet, that intensity was what made him so good at this, at seeing what you missed and guiding you through it.

You started the conversation, your voice warm and inviting. "So, Cregan, what else should I know about you? Besides being a whiz at biochem, that is."

Cregan felt a flush creep up his neck at your teasing tone. "I, uh, not much, really," he mumbled, his eyes darting around the coffee shop before settling back on you. "I'm kind of a boring guy, to be honest."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Somehow, I doubt that," you said, leaning forward slightly.

Cregan's eyes met yours for a brief moment before he looked away, a faint smile breaking his usual reserved expression. “Well,” he started, his voice low and thoughtful, “I guess I’m into photography. It’s more of a hobby, but it helps me clear my head sometimes.”

You leaned in closer, intrigued by this small revelation. “Photography? That’s really cool. What do you like to photograph?”

Cregan shrugged, a little more at ease now that the focus was off the math and on something more personal. “Mostly cityscapes. Sometimes, I’ll catch the sunrise or sunset if I’m up early – or late – enough. I like capturing moments that people usually overlook.”

There was something almost poetic about the way he spoke, as if he saw the world in a different light, a way that made you want to see it through his eyes. “That sounds… peaceful,” you replied, trying to imagine him in those quiet moments, camera in hand.

“Yeah, it is.” Cregan paused, as if considering how much more to share. “It’s… calming.”

You smiled, feeling a new level of connection with him. “I’d love to see some of your photos sometime.”

His eyes flicked back to you, surprised. “You would?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice earnest. “I think it’d be amazing to see the world through your perspective.”

Cregan hesitated, but there was a softness in his expression, a slight warmth that hadn’t been there before. “Maybe I could show you, then. If you’re really interested.”

“I am,” you assured him, your tone gentle yet firm. “I really am.”

The conversation took on a new rhythm after that, a quieter, more personal tone as you both opened up, bit by bit. Cregan asked about your own interests, your goals, the things that made you tick outside of the classroom. He listened intently, his focus unwavering, and even though his responses were often short and to the point, they were always thoughtful, as if he was carefully choosing each word.

You talked about books you loved, places you wanted to visit, dreams you had for the future. And in turn, Cregan shared more about himself – his love for science, his fascination with how things worked, and the quiet joy he found in those moments when he could just be himself, away from the pressures of school and life.

As the afternoon stretched into early evening, the café started to empty out, the bustle of the day giving way to a more relaxed atmosphere. The baristas began their end-of-day routines, but you and Cregan remained, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

At some point, your hands brushed across the table, and though it was brief, it felt like a spark of electricity passed between you. Cregan didn’t pull away, and neither did you. Instead, you both let the touch linger for just a moment longer, a silent acknowledgment of the growing bond that was forming.

Finally, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the café floor, you realized it was time to go. You packed up your notes, the weight of the day’s work feeling lighter than it had before.

“Thanks for today,” you said, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I really appreciate it.”

Cregan stood as well, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Anytime,” he said softly. “Same time next week?”

“Definitely,” you replied, smiling at him. “And maybe we can talk more about photography, too.”

Cregan’s smile returned, shy but genuine. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

As you walked out of the café together, the evening air cool and refreshing, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted between you and Cregan. It was subtle, a quiet deepening of the connection you shared, but it was there, undeniable and strong.

You parted ways after Cregan insisted on walking you home and you refused, he opted for telling you to text him when you were at your door. His cheeks burnt red when he read the screen, with your newly added number and a ‘home ;)’text.

Cregan's phone buzzed again, and his heart leapt, wondering if it was another message from you. But as he looked at the screen, his expression darkened. It was a news alert: a robbery in progress just a few blocks away.

He hesitated, torn between the urge to respond and the desire to hold onto the warmth of the afternoon for just a little longer. But he knew he couldn't ignore it. With a sigh, Cregan ducked into a nearby alley, quickly changing into the suit he always kept with him.

As he swung through the city, the cool night air whipping past him, Cregan couldn't help but think about you. About the way your eyes had lit up when he explained a particularly tricky concept, about the soft brush of your fingers against his as you reached for your coffee cup. He thought about the promise of next week, of more conversations about photography and life and all the things that made you both who you were.

The robbery was dealt with quickly – a couple of petty thieves who were more surprised to see Spider-Man than they were prepared to fight him. As Cregan webbed them up for the police, he found himself wondering what you would think if you could see him now. Would you be impressed? Scared? Would it change the way you looked at him?

By the time Cregan made it back to his apartment, it was late. He collapsed onto his bed, still in his suit, feeling the familiar ache of exertion in his muscles. But as he closed his eyes, it wasn't the faces of the criminals he'd caught that he saw. It was your smile, the way you'd leaned in close as he explained a problem, the warmth in your voice when you'd said goodbye.

His phone buzzed one more time, and Cregan reached for it, his heart racing. It was you.

‘thanks again for today. you really are my hero when it comes to biochem.’

Then another.

‘see you in class!’

Cregan read the message several times, his thumb hovering over the reply button. He wanted to say so much – about how much he'd enjoyed spending time with you, how he was already looking forward to next week, how beautiful you looked, how you made him feel like just Cregan, not Spider-Man or anyone else.

In the end, he settled for something simple: ‘Anytime. I had a great time too. Can't wait for next week.’

He knew it wouldn't be easy. Balancing his life as Cregan Stark with his duties as Spider-Man was already a constant struggle. Adding a potential relationship to the mix would only complicate things further. But as he remembered the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes had met his across the coffee shop table, Cregan found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

The next few days passed in a blur of classes, patrols, and stolen glances across lecture halls. Every time Cregan saw you, his heart would do a little flip in his chest. Sometimes you'd catch his eye and smile, a small, secret gesture that felt like it was just for him. Other times, you'd be deep in conversation with friends or buried in a textbook, and Cregan would find himself watching you from afar, marveling at the way you moved through the world.

In class, Cregan found himself hyper-aware of your presence. He'd catch himself stealing glances at you, watching the way you chewed on your pen when you were thinking hard about a problem, or the way you'd tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you leaned over your notes. More than once, he nearly missed a question from the professor, too distracted by the simple fact of your nearness.

But it wasn't just in class that you occupied his thoughts. As Spider-Man, swinging through the city at night, Cregan found himself taking routes that would bring him past your apartment building. He told himself it was just to make sure you were safe, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. It was a way of feeling close to you, even when he couldn't be Cregan Stark.

As Cregan swung away into the night, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had to give. He couldn't keep living these two separate lives, couldn't keep holding you at arm's length while simultaneously yearning to be closer. But what was the alternative? To tell you the truth and risk everything? To walk away and protect you from the dangers that came with being close to Spider-Man?

He didn't have the answers. But as he made his way back to his own apartment, Cregan knew one thing for certain: he was in deeper than he'd ever intended to be, and there was no easy way out.

_________

As the days passed, you found yourself drawn more and more into Cregan Stark's orbit. What had started as simple tutoring sessions began to evolve into something more. You'd catch yourself looking for him in the crowded hallways between classes, your heart skipping a beat when you'd spot that familiar mop of brown hair.

During your tutoring sessions, you started to linger longer, engaging Cregan in conversations that went far beyond the subject matter at hand. You discovered a shared love of obscure sci-fi movies, and soon found yourself suggesting meetups outside of your usual study time. When you had first asked him to come over to watch a movie, trying to keep your voice casual even as your pulse quickened, Cregan felt like his chest was about to explode.

Cregan seemed both delighted and nervous at these invitations, always accepting with an endearing mix of enthusiasm and awkwardness. You couldn't help but find his slightly fumbling manner charming, so different from the easy confidence you saw in many of your classmates.

But it wasn't just Cregan Stark who was occupying your thoughts. Your encounters with Spider-Man had been increasing in frequency as well. It started innocuously enough - you'd be walking home late from the library and suddenly he'd be there, offering to make sure you got home safely. Or you'd be grabbing a quick bite at a food truck, and he'd swing by, pausing just long enough for a quip and a smile that made your stomach flutter.

These brief encounters slowly became more frequent, more prolonged. Sometimes he'd perch on a nearby rooftop, and you'd find yourself talking for hours, sharing your hopes, your fears, your dreams. There was something freeing about talking to someone whose face you couldn't fully see, whose identity remained a mystery. You found yourself opening up to Spider-Man in ways you never had with anyone else.

As your connection with both Cregan and Spider-Man deepened, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something you were missing, some connection you weren't quite grasping.

The day had been long, stretched out with a kind of silence that felt unnatural. Usually, Cregan would find some way to pop up – whether it was a quick text about a class assignment or a casual joke that made you smile. But the past three days, there was nothing. The hours ticked by, and with each passing minute, a sense of unease settled in your chest.

You missed Cregan, he’d become a constant presence in your life.

The evening of the third day rolled in, you tried to distract yourself with a book, but the words blurred together, your mind too bored and restless to focus. Every so often, you found yourself glancing at your phone, hoping for a message, some sign of Cregan.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across your apartment. You stood by the window, watching the city come to life with its usual rhythm – the distant hum of traffic, the occasional blare of a car horn, the murmur of voices drifting up from the street below. But something felt off, a tension in the air that you couldn’t quite shake.

You were just about to turn away from the window, resigning yourself to another hour of waiting, when a sudden noise broke through the quiet. A thud. Heavy and sharp, it resonated through the walls and made you jump.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you spun toward the sound. It had come from the fire escape just outside your window, the metal groaning slightly under the weight of something – or someone.

With a shaky breath, you approached the window, your hand trembling as you reached for the latch. You hesitated for a moment, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. Then, slowly, you pushed the window open, the cool evening air rushing in.

And there he was.

Spider-Man.

But not the agile, confident hero you’d seen swinging through the city’s skyline. This Spider-Man was slumped against the railing of your fire escape, his red and blue suit torn and stained with dirt and blood. He was breathing heavily, each breath a ragged gasp, his masked head tilted down as if the effort of holding it up was too much.

“Spider-Man?” you whispered, your voice shaky with a mix of disbelief and fear.

He didn’t respond at first, his head still bowed, but you could see his chest rising and falling in labored breaths. Panic surged through you as you realized just how badly he was hurt. Without thinking, you climbed out onto the fire escape, the metal cool beneath your hands as you knelt beside him.

“Hey,” you said, louder this time, reaching out to touch his arm. “What happened?”

At your touch, he flinched, his head snapping up. For a moment, you saw the white lenses of his mask narrow, as if he was trying to focus on you through a haze of pain. Then, with a weak, shaky movement, he lifted a gloved hand to his mask, pulling it up just enough to reveal the lower half of his face.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw it – Cregan’s familiar jawline, his lips cracked and dry, blood trickling from a cut on his cheek. His eyes, half-hidden behind the mask, were glazed with exhaustion and pain.

“Cregan,” you breathed, the name slipping from your lips before you could stop it. Fear and worry tangled in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You could barely recognize the boy who’d sat beside you in the library just a few weeks before, explaining enzyme kinetics with a shy smile. Now, he looked so vulnerable, so fragile, it was almost unbearable.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, almost too quiet to hear. His attempt at a smile faltered, his lips trembling. “Sorry... didn’t mean to drop in unannounced.”

You shook your head, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Cregan, what happened? You’re hurt – Oh my god, you’re bleeding!”

He winced as he tried to shift, his hand tightening on the railing. “Just... ran into some trouble. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Just... just need a minute.”

But it was clear that he needed more than just a minute. His skin was pale beneath the grime, and when he tried to move again, his body sagged against the railing, his strength all but gone.

“Cregan, you need help,” you said, your voice urgent as you scanned his injuries, not knowing where to start. You could see the gash on his side, the dark stain of blood seeping through the fabric of his suit. “You can’t stay out here – come inside, please.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but another wave of pain seemed to wash over him, cutting off his words. You didn’t wait for him to argue. With gentle hands, you slipped your arm around his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles as you tried to support his weight.

“Come on,” you urged softly, “I’ve got you.”

With a groan, Cregan let you help him to his feet, his body heavy and unsteady against yours. Together, you managed to maneuver him through the window and into your apartment, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.

You guided him to the couch, easing him down onto the cushions with as much care as you could manage. He slumped back, his head lolling to the side as he tried to stay conscious. You could see the strain in his face, the way his eyes fluttered open and shut as he fought against the overwhelming exhaustion.

“I’m gonna get some supplies,” you whispered, brushing a hand across his forehead. “Just hang in there, okay?”

Cregan’s hand caught yours as you started to pull away, his grip weak but desperate. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes met yours, filled with a depth of gratitude and vulnerability that made your heart ache.

You squeezed his hand gently, your voice soft but firm. “I’ll be right back.”

As you hurried to gather what you needed – first aid kit, towels, anything that might help – you couldn’t shake the image of Cregan lying there, hurt and vulnerable. This was the same boy who’d laughed with you over coffee, who’d explained complex science with an ease that belied his own brilliance. The same boy who now sat on your couch, barely holding on.

When you returned, Cregan’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow but steady. You knelt beside him, your hands trembling as you began to clean his wounds, doing your best to be gentle. Each time he flinched or winced, your heart clenched, wishing you could take the pain away, even if just a little.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper as you worked.

Cregan didn’t answer right away, his lips pressed together as you dabbed at the cut on his side. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice rough and tired. “Missed you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you paused, meeting his gaze. “Cregan,”

The words seemed to hang in the air between you, thick with emotion. Cregan’s eyes softened, his expression crumbling into something raw and unguarded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to drag you into this... but I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your heart ached for him, and without thinking, you reached out, cupping his cheek in your hand. “You’re not dragging me into anything, Cregan. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if trying to draw strength from your presence. For a long moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled in a web of trust and unspoken feelings, holding on to each other in the quiet safety of your small apartment.

Cregan’s eyes fluttered open as he leaned into your touch, a small, reassuring smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain etched into his features.

“Hey, don’t look so worried,” he murmured, his voice soft but with a familiar hint of playfulness. “I’ll be okay. I’ve got this whole… accelerated healing thing going on. Perks of the job.”

You tried to smile back, but the worry still lingered in your eyes. “I know, but that doesn’t make seeing you like this any easier.” Your voice wavered slightly, and Cregan’s hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Come on, don’t I always bounce back?” he said, trying to inject some of that Spider-Man charm into his voice, though it came out weaker than usual.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured at your silence, his voice a rough whisper, as if he was trying to convince both of you. “I... I heal fast. It just takes some time.”

You frowned, your hand still cradling his face as you studied the cuts and bruises that marred his skin. “Fast or not, you’re hurt, Cregan. Let me help.”

He managed a small, weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was full of appreciation. “You’re already helping.”

You started with the worst of his injuries, cleaning the gash on his side with careful, deliberate movements. He hissed at the sting of the antiseptic, his muscles tensing beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let out a shaky breath and tried to relax, his eyes fixed on your face as if drawing strength from your presence.

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how you could be so kind, so caring, even after seeing him like this. The world knew Spider-Man as a hero, invincible and strong, but here he was, laid bare and vulnerable, and yet you didn’t flinch, didn’t turn away. Instead, you stayed, your hands steady as you patched him up, your heart open and unafraid.

Once you’d finished with the worst of the injuries, you turned your attention to the smaller cuts and bruises, dabbing at the dried blood on his cheek, his neck, his hands. The silence between you was comfortable now, filled with the quiet rustle of bandages and the soft rhythm of your breathing.

Cregan’s eyes drifted shut as you worked, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Didn’t mean to worry you.”

You shook your head, your fingers brushing gently over a bruise on his temple. “You don’t have to apologize, Cregan. I’m just glad you came here, that you trusted me.”

His eyes opened again, and this time, there was a softness in them that made your heart ache. “Of course, I trust you,” he said, his voice stronger now, more certain. “I just... I didn’t want you to see me like this. Didn’t want you to think...”

He trailed off, struggling to find the right words. But you understood what he was trying to say, the fear that had been gnawing at him, the worry that you might see him differently now that you knew the truth.

You offered him a small, reassuring smile, your hand still resting on his cheek.

He closed his eyes again, leaning into your touch as if it was the only thing keeping him anchored. You could see the exhaustion weighing heavily on him, the way his body sagged against the cushions, his strength nearly spent.

“Get some rest,” you urged softly, your fingers brushing through his hair in a soothing gesture. “I’ll stay right here. You’re safe.”

Cregan nodded, his breathing evening out as he let the exhaustion take over. His hand found yours, his grip weak but steady, and he held on as if afraid to let go.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the tension in Cregan’s body began to ease, his breathing becoming slower, deeper. The silence in the room was peaceful, broken only by the faint sounds of the city beyond the window. You stayed beside him, your hand still holding his, your thumb brushing gently over the back of his knuckles in a soothing rhythm, trying to also calm yourself down.

Then, just as you thought he’d fallen asleep, Cregan’s voice broke the quiet, a soft murmur that tugged at your heart. “I missed you these last few days,” he whispered, his eyes still closed, as if the words were pulled from him in a moment of vulnerability.

Your breath caught in your throat at the confession. “I missed you too,” you replied, your voice just as soft, filled with all the things you hadn’t been able to say. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been waiting for this moment, for the chance to be close to him again, until now.

Cregan’s eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken. There was something raw in his gaze, a mix of relief and longing that you hadn’t seen before, something that made the air between you crackle with unspoken emotion.

“I kept thinking about you,” he continued, his voice low and rough around the edges.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest as his words hung in the air. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that made it impossible to ignore, a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the bruises and cuts marring his face.

Cregan’s lips, cracked and dry from days of struggle, curled into a weak but genuine smile. His eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion but alive with a mix of mischief and longing, met yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, “since you’re already being so kind and caring, maybe… just maybe… a kiss for the wounded hero?” He tried to make light of his condition, the playful tone in his voice belying the pain he was in.

Your lips twitched into a small, incredulous smile despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You could see the effort it took for him to joke, the way he was clinging to his usual charm even when he was at his most vulnerable.

“I suppose I could,” you said, leaning closer, “if you’re sure it won’t make you faint from excitement.”

Cregan’s laughter was a soft, pained exhale, but it was there, and it was real. “I think I can handle it.”

With a tender smile, you brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering for a moment as you took in the rawness of his expression. He looked at you with such intensity that it felt as if he was seeing right into you, beyond the superficial and straight into the heart of what mattered.

You leaned in, your breath mingling with his as you closed the distance. His lips were warm and dry against yours, and the kiss was gentle, almost tentative.

Cregan’s lips, cracked and trembling from his injuries, felt delicate beneath yours. Despite his pain, there was a surprising gentleness in his kiss, a fragile vulnerability that made you want to hold him closer. The contact was brief, a fleeting brush of warmth and tenderness, but it was charged with unspoken emotions – fear, hope, and the deep relief of finally being close again.

When you pulled back, you barely heard Cregan’s joke about ordering some good pizza, too focused on his cheeky smile and the few strands of hair that had fallen back to his face.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #hotd cregan #cregan fanfiction #cregan x reader #tom taylor #stark x reader #spiderman x reader #spidersona #spiderman #cregan x you #cregan stark oneshot

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cal-flakes · 8 months ago

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can i pls see gun kink thoughts with rafe. real coked out and crazy, choking u with the barrel 😋

is this deranged ? probs? love u the mostest!!

it is deranged. but i also fucking love it. so maybe we are deranged. i adore u — also, i unfortunately get off on edging you mf’s so please don’t hate me when it cuts off.

‧₊🫧꒷꒦‧₊˚⋆

— “y’think you’re the boss huh? parading yourself around in those little skirts? infront of my friends?” he spat, grip tight on your jaw, forcing your eyes on him. you attempted to shake your head, yet winced as his hold only got firmer.

rafe pushed you backwards as he let go of your cheeks, leaving you to land on the couch. your glassy eyes followed him as he paced the room— eyes frantic, pupils blown; the obvious reasoning for his unreasonable reaction to you and your usual attire.

“the fuck am i gonna do with you?” he muttered, running a hand over his buzzed head. his eyes fell on the bottom drawer of the television cabinet, causing him to stop still while his glare fell back towards you. “c’mere” he ordered, voice low and raspy as his hand beckoned you over lazily.

eager to please him, you found yourself under rafe’s sadistic gaze once more. “rafe i’m—“

“do you trust me?” he interrupted, words harsh and laced with mixed emotion. you weren’t sure what he wanted to hear, especially not when he’s like this. opting for the obvious— you nodded eagerly, peering up at him, yet frowned as he stepped passed. you watched intently as his hand dipped into the drawer, pulling out a familiar piece of heavy metal. “knees, now”

doing as you’re told, you lowered yourself in front of him, as well as your gaze— ashamed of the wetness growing between your thighs. “you’re gonna show me jus’ how much you respect me” he smirked, turning round fully to present his idea.

peering up at him, you felt your core ache for it. it was wrong— so wrong in so many ways, and yet you wanted to completely surrender to him. pulling a plump lip between your teeth, you nodded— readjusting yourself in preparation.

“tha’s it— you want me to teach y’some respect kid?” he chuckled, feeling a complete lack of surprise at your willingness. “yes”

“yes what?” he sneered, toying with the gun. you watched as his slender fingers worked the metal so carelessly— fiddling with the safety. falling into such admiration, you almost didn’t realise the light slap that blushed it’s way across your cheek. “hey— speak when spoken to kid”

“i— yes, yes sir” you whimpered.

“y’shouldn’t trust me, y’know. who knows, might blow your pretty little brains out all over the rug” he hummed, dragging the barrel of the cool metal down your cheek, tauntingly. “open your mouth for me doll”

#ʚ♡ɞ ☁: elle’s dreams #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #obx #rafecameron #rafe obx

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httpsserene · 5 months ago

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I LOVED daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x reader!! could you write a part 2?

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞: 𝐊.𝐎. !

summary: Okay, Daniel may have won the first round. He cleared her dry spell with no problem and used Max to do it, too. That’s completely fine, she will never complain about experiencing some of the best orgasms of her life. But, Max (the man unable to not have the last word) coerces her into giving Daniel a taste of his own medicine. As soon as they can manage to walk on two feet, without a wobble. Mark their fucking words. pairing: daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x fem!black!reader content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. author recommends reading part one before this. polyamory. threesome. massages. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. safe, sane, and consensual. bondage. safeword mention. unprotected sex. ruined orgasm. handjob. oral sex (male receiving). edging. crying during sex. praise kink. nipple play. dom/sub ig? joking during sex. dom!max verstappen. switch!daniel ricciardo. sub!reader. vaginal sex. anal sex (male). sex toys (butt plug). frottage. don’t like don’t read. no beta we die like men. edited by the author, though. this is a fictional depiction of real-life people, and this is not an accurate representation of them. word count: 4.3k words

author’s notes: to all the lovely readers who begged for a part two of my f1 kinktober special | overstimulation kink w danny & max. these tags may look crazy...okay, they are but the fic is reasonably crazy i would say. this was humbling to write, you have been warned. my 2k followers special comes to its end with this final installment and there will be no part three of this fic < 3. i may repost this on ao3 in a week or so, for ease of reading as i know long fics on tumblr are kind of annoying :)

(i'm going to take a little pause from writing daniel ricciardo fics but those of you that have requested things for him i will get to them in due time xxx)

prev part 1 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents↻

Your body feels like it’s been wrung out: legs wobbly, thighs bruised, hips aching, back broken, and numb with heat between your legs. You refuse to wear pants as the friction is too paralyzing to take more than a few steps. Loose dresses are your best friend–for the first couple of days, you even went commando around the ranch—thank god neither one of your boyfriends clued into that.

However, it’s not like you disliked the oversensitivity and aching muscles that came after sex. You loved the feeling even more as it was the first time you’d been properly fucked in a few months. Having that unending thirst for Max and Daniel quenched; it’s heightened how you experience life. You swear that your vision feels sharper, your melanated skin softer, anything you eat tastes better than delicious, the homemade lemonade is sweeter, and most importantly, your desperation has calmed. While you love life on the farm, where living has become succulent under your senses—Max’s attitude has done a complete 180°.

His energy is completely subdued. It’s like Daniel drained the cum and brat out of him. Max is all stuttered words when he makes eye contact with either of you, blushing fully at the lightest tease or brush of skin, voice soft when he speaks, usual bluntness replaced with shyness, and he’s even clingier than normal. If he hasn’t glued himself underneath Daniel’s arm, he’ll be plastered against your back.

You wonder if he’s embarrassed that Daniel changed their “plan” on him at the last minute, or if it’s because Daniel used him as a tool to get you off—but, asking Max would only scare him away or cause the brat to resurface…so you don’t verbalize your theories. You find Max in this state more adorable than usual, and you won’t complain if it means a surplus of Max-cuddles.

Yet, the figurative rug is pulled from beneath your feet when the three of you go Christmas shopping. Daniel had separated from the two of you to go pick up a gift for his nephew, leaving you and Max alone to browse through knickknacks that decorate the shelves. Your eyes were caught by cat ornaments that looked exactly like Jimmy and Sassy but before you could reach out to grab, them Max grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to hide in the next aisle over.

“I want to break Daniel with so many orgasms that he won’t be able to speak by the time we’re done with him,” Max states bluntly. The brat is back.

“Regulate your volume,” you whisper-yell at him, hand moving to cover his mouth as you look around to see if anybody heard your Dutch boyfriend, “We are in public and you decided now is the time to bring this up?!”

He pulls your hand off his face, looking at you with wide eyes, “But, liefje–c’mon! Daniel’s been way too smug recently. Whenever I’m around him he doesn’t miss the chance to mention how he made me cry—made you cry, too!”

“Inside voice, Max,” you bite out, continuing to look at the Christmas decorations in this aisle.

“Fine,” Max whispers, rolling his eyes, “Technically, it’s another Christmas present for him if you think about it.”

“I’m trying not to think about it if you haven’t noticed.”

“Don’t you want to even the board? Imagine it: Daniel underneath the two of us, and we’re overwhelming him with pleasure. Doesn’t that sound like a good time?”

You stop walking abruptly and Max runs into your back. You spin around and stare at him with narrowed eyes and a flared nose.

“You seriously thought the best time to discuss this is in the middle of a family-friendly store, where our boyfriend is picking up a gift for his nephew?”

“Yes.”

“If you stop talking about it for the entire time we’re shopping today, I’ll consider it. We can discuss this when the phantom feeling of his cum on my skin goes away.”

That evening, you and the Dutchman watch Daniel fix a motorbike out in the driveway from the garage. He’s shirtless, sweat dripping down his face and back, you can see every muscle engage and relax as he moves. He’s silhouetted by the Australian sunset and you hear Max choke on his breath when Daniel’s loose jeans slip down his hips, exposing the waistband of his briefs—twin sighs of disappointment leave you both when he catches and drags them back up. With shaky hands, you grab the pitcher of lemonade you prepared to pour a glass for each of you. Ignoring how you missed the glass on your first few attempts, you two bring the drinks to your lips and dry the cups embarrassingly quickly to satiate your desperation—the lemonade doesn’t help.

Daniel finishes with the bike and wipes his hands on a towel he had tucked into his back pocket, looking your guys’ way. He smiles brightly—shamefully, you wave in response and Max tucks a nonexistent strand of hair behind his ear; the two of you are acting like school girls with a crush.

The Australian stands and in a few relaxed strides, he comes to a stop in front of you two.

“Can you pour me a glass, sweetheart?” his request rumbles out velvety.

Stuttering, you scramble to do as he asked and find that Max has reached for the pitcher as well when your hands bump into each other. The two of you freeze and stare at each other with wide eyes; Max’s blush blooms red across his face and yours warms the brown skin of your cheeks. Daniel’s chuckle of amusement snaps you out of it; Max pours the drink, and you hand it off to the Australian, avoiding eye contact. He brings the glass to his lips and drains it dry. You and the Dutchman stare with gaped mouths, watching the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, whimpering and pressing your thighs together at his ah in satisfaction when finished.

He leans down to place the glass back on the tray and smirks at you and Max, “Absolutely delicious. It almost tastes as sweet as either of you is acting right now.”

Both of you stay silent, squirming in your lawn chairs. Daniel takes a second to slowly press both of your mouths closed with a nudge of his fingers before straightening up and clearing his throat.

“Thank you for the drink, sweetheart,” Daniel cocks his head to the side in question, before winking, his smug aura radiating off of him, “Or should I say, ‘sweethearts?’ As both of you seemed so eager to help me quench my thirst.”

Your mouth pops open again and Max audibly whimpers next to you. Daniel laughs and walks to enter the house, “Don’t feel afraid to join me in the shower.”

The plan is set before Daniel’s out of the shower. You’ve changed into a black mini slip dress, curls loosely cascading down your back as you’ve draped yourself on top of the bed sideways, face-down on your tummy, not caring how the back of your dress has ridden up a couple of inches. Max laid himself on his side next to you, dressed in a navy Enchanté shirt and a pair of Daniel’s briefs that hug at his thighs a little too tightly, and plays with the bottom hem of your dress, letting his fingers drift underneath to press at bruises that haven’t healed from that night.

At the sound of the shower shutting off, the two of you glance at each other; Max checking in with you one last time before you guys follow through with the plan. At your nod, Max presses a soft kiss to your lips and goes back to fiddling with your dress. You rest your head on your folded arms and as your eyes flutter shut, the bathroom door opens.

You hear Daniel humming some country song and he gets about three steps into the room before he stops abruptly.

“Well, if I had known this would be waiting for me out here, I wouldn’t have spent a lifetime in the shower waiting for you guys to take me up on my offer.”

Max makes a noise of confusion, his hand pausing at your hemline, “What are you talking about? We just thought it would be nice to give you a massage—you know, prevent any muscle tightness from when you were hunched over the bike.”

“Is that so, pretty girl?” Daniel questions you, looking past Max. He’s dried off from his shower already, skin gleaming thanks to your cocoa butter lotion he probably stole, hair still damp but not dripping, and a towel wrapped around his waist. You’re sure he’s trying to sniff out any weakness; to see if he can bend you into revealing Max’s agenda for tonight. Little does he know that you’re not an accomplice, you’ve put a good amount of work into this plan too.

In response, you offer a small smile and hold up a bottle of massage oil that was previously tucked into your side. Daniel’s narrowed eyes flit between the two of you, and then he relaxes, shrugging loftily as he motions for the two of you to move so he can lie down.

“Okay, sure,” Daniel laughs, falling into the bed as soon as the space is available, lying flat on his stomach, face planting into the pillows and his next words are muffled but loud enough to understand, “You don’t have to use ‘giving me a massage’ as an excuse to feel me up, but I’m not going to turn it down if you’re so willing to do so.”

You and Max are kneeling on opposite sides of Daniel’s body on the bed, resting on the heels of your feet, and you muffle a giggle at Max rolling his eyes at your boyfriend’s words. The younger man slaps his hand on Daniel’s back, grinning at the stifled yelp that sounds from near the headboard, and coos sarcastically, “Do you think you can handle that level of pain? Considering this is a deep-tissue massage?”

You drizzle a nice amount of oil on the middle of his back, letting your laughter escape as Daniel pleads, “Woah—hear me out, what about a regular massage? I would like to end this massage without crying from soreness, please.”

Slowly the two of you turn to look at each other, smiles spreading across your lips, and Max murmurs, “Oh. You’ll be crying by the end of this.”

You ignore Daniel begging for mercy underneath you and beginning massaging. For all of the Dutchman’s ribbing, the two of you are gentle. Your hands soothingly rub any tension out of his back; the two of you are only doing this to melt Daniel into the bed. He protests and grumbles through the both of you digging into his shoulders, but quiets as you make your way down his back, practically moaning when you push a knot out from behind his shoulder blade. Max manages to wrangle out a whimper when he presses his thumb into the dimple of his lower back. Neither of you gets close to the towel resting low on his hips; you want to keep him as calm and unaware as possible, but getting close to that towel would do the opposite. When Daniel’s breathing slows and his sounds of relief start to lessen, Max gently coaxes Daniel into rolling on his back with ease.

The brunette’s eyes flutter open, but you tut disapprovingly when his gaze meets yours. With a kiss on his forehead, Daniel closes his eyes at your word, not fighting you for a second. And from that point, you and Max begin conditioning the older man to get used to only having one pair of hands on him at a time. Max massages his chest, you take a break, you massage his chest, Max takes a break; and as Daniel starts to relax at the rhythm, you guys slowly increase the length of your breaks.

Until the breaks get long enough to slip the ties that you guys fastened to the headboard out.

Daniel was so entranced at the sight of you and Max sprawled on his bed that he forgot to examine his surroundings. They’re silk ties, with pre-made straps for you to tighten as soon as his hands are inside them. The two of you take it to the next step; you each begin to massage his arms (still employing your regular breaks), raising them upwards to “get a better angle.” Daniel doesn’t even shift at the change, he just hums under his breath when either of you soothes across a good spot. And with little effort, you and Max raise both of his arms and smoothly slip his tattooed hands into the ties, tightening the straps in the blink of an eye.

The older man startles, eyes flying open as he tries to yank his wrists free of the binds, “Uhhhh, what the fuck?”

Both of you watch as Daniel tries to free himself without any luck, enjoying the show as the silk ties prove they won’t give out. Chills shudder down your spine as your older boyfriend tries to order the two of you to release him, but he must see the feral glint shine in your eyes because he switches to asking when neither of you moves.

“You know what to say if you really want us to let you go, Daniel,” Max states bluntly, pulling off his Enchanté shirt easily.

You hum in agreement, straddling the Australian’s hips and simultaneously tugging your slip dress over your head and tossing it to the side, exposing your bare body before seating yourself on the bulge showing through the towel. Daniel chokes out a curse, his eyes dancing between yours and Max’s bodies being dangled in front of his face without being able to touch.

He tests the binds for any give half-heartedly before sniffing dismissively, jaw tightening as he challenges Max, “Do your worst, baby.”

Max scoffs out a laugh, “That is the plan.”

From there you and Max turn into savages. Both of you bypass kissing Daniel, pressing lips and biting bruises along his neck and torso instead. The man can only cry out as Max terrorizes his nipples with teeth and pinching fingers while you paint marks on his hipbones and navel. The older man isn’t convinced that the night will end without the two of you seriously attempting cannibalism but the thought is pushed away when the towel is tugged off his hips.

Max laughs mockingly and flicks Daniel’s already-hardened length, “Well, this will be even easier than we thought, liefje.”

“I was half-hard from the minute you guys put your hands on me,” Daniel snipes, “Don’t let this go to your head.”

You raise an eyebrow in question, tilting your head to the side innocently which contrasts the strong grasp of your hand around the head of Daniel’s cock, “Isn’t that a compliment, though? Anyways, it clearly went to your head.”

Daniel groans in pleasure as you start to rapidly stroke along his quickly reddening length, “That was a terrible pun–fuck–but, I’m only letting it slide because your hand is on my cock.”

He bucks up into your fist and you release him immediately, smiling as you see him choke down a whimper of disappointment. The older man isn’t left alone for long, as Max drags the tip of his index finger along the slit of Daniel’s cock before flattening his palm across the head and roughly circling it to overwhelm him with an alarming amount of pleasure-coated friction.

The brunette can’t stifle his cries this time nor can he buck his hips, thanks to the Dutchman pinning him down with his free forearm. Max pulls both of his hands away quickly, delighting in Daniel’s sounds of displeasure, the two of you watching as he attempts to chase a hand that isn’t there anymore. His length is throbbing, pulsing angrily, redder than the blush that stains his tanned chest. You swallow wantingly. Both of you thought that you would be able to get a few more rounds out of a handjob, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Max gets his hand around the base and yours circles the tip. Simultaneously, the two of you start rubbing him off in time, keeping your fists just tight enough and your motions just quick enough to hurtle Daniel to the edge. He throws his head back into the pillows, hips freely bucking as neither one of you attempts to stop him, his hands pulling against the ties all the while,

“You can cum whenever you want, Daniel,” Max states.

The older man lets out several pants of desperation, calling both of your names as he nears his climax. And when you both see the telltale sign of Daniel’s chest rising and falling heavily, you release his cock.

“No! Wait–shit,” he tries to gasp, but it’s too late. His cock starts leaking, jerking pathetically as cum drips down his length in ribbons—his orgasm ruined. Dry sobs escape his lungs as he humps the air, looking for friction that isn’t there, continuing to beg for a hand even as he struggles to breathe as a result of the unsatisfying release.

You let him come down hard, offering support in a quick squeeze of the meat of his thigh over his tattoo. When he catches his breath, his eyes flutter open. Max sees the wetness gathered in the waterlines and moves in the blink of an eye, enveloping Daniel’s still-hard cock in his mouth.

The Australian’s back arches off the bed, hips racing forward then backward as he cries out, unsure if the feeling of Max’s mouth is good. Both pairs of your hands fly forward to still Daniel, forcing him to feel every crevice of Max’s tongue and throat, trying to bring him to another orgasm as quickly as possible. It works, Daniel stops fighting and starts obeying, rolling upward into Max’s mouth, whimpering out depravedly as he struggles against his binds again. You see his abs start to undulate in waves, a second orgasm trying to form and you slip your hand underneath Max’s chin, lightly squeezing at Daniel’s balls—and the tears fall as his release slams into him like a semi-truck.

The younger man swallows around Daniel, humming as he does it, yet the bobbing motion of his head doesn’t stop—Max is going to try his hardness to prevent Daniel from going soft, even as the older man tries to fight and twist away from the wet grasp of his throat. The Australian’s tears paint his cheek as he sobs messily, and you’re quick to check in with him as Max’s mouth is occupied.

“Daniel, color?” you manage to make your voice sound steady, but your thighs are trembling, your cunt pulsing with wetness and need.

The man whimpers, eyes unseeingly looking down at you and Max as he cries messily, “Green.”

You moan breathily, finally giving in to your urges and rushing forward to messily kiss Daniel. You let him cry into your mouth, nipping at his lips and tasting his tears before pulling away. Max pulls off Daniel’s cock with a reedy gasp and moves backward quickly so you can slip in between them, seating your cunt atop the half-hard length and beginning to grind along him. The brunette makes a sound as if he’s been punched in the gut, arms pausing in their fight against the ties before they resume with renewed strength. Daniel scrambles to get his feet underneath him, trying to buck off the hot, wet drag of your cunt against his cock. It’s pulsing so violently that he swears he can feel it in his throat.

Max knocks his feet down, and tugs Daniel’s chin to look at him with a hardened grasp, with his voice rough and croaky he commands, “Can you give us one more, Daniel?”

Daniel's glossy, brown eyes stare at Max without answer, mouth parted as drool slips from the corners of his lips. The Dutchman’s brow tightens with worry and he releases his chin to pull you off. But, before he can stop you, Daniel gasps out desperately.

“M’ green—please, please, Max,” Daniel nods viciously, “Green, green—one more.”

The younger man soothes Daniel with sweet words, praising and comforting him as he leans forward to pepper his lips and neck with kisses and kitten licks, pausing to motion you to continue.

You line up Daniel’s cock easily and murmur out a ‘thank you’, before sinking down and not stopping until your ass meets his pelvis, uncaring of how he attempts to shake you off. His body is reacting in too much, but Max and you both see and hear how his brain interprets it as too good.

You keen in pleasure but your noises are deafened by Daniel’s cries and begs for relief. Well aware that you have to get yourself off so Max can have a turn, you find that toe-curling angle with the help of Max directing your hips, holding yourself steady with one hand behind you on the bed and the other drawing rapid circles on your clit. Max moves to let you rest your back along his chest, your frizzed curls a mess as they bounce with your movements.

The visual stimulation of Daniel in front of you moaning and heaving for more, the frantic twitching of his length inside of you, the sound of your skin slapping against his, and Max’s voice ghosting right by your ear, the ‘good girl’ that left his lips taking a second to process; all of it pushes you into the abyss. You don’t know if it’s you or Daniel that screams, your blood rushing in your ears and your vision flashing white clouds your mind as the explosion of pleasure burns your nerve endings.

With a choked ‘fuck,’ you slump over, slipping off his twitching cock and slinking down next to Daniel as you shiver and shake through the last dregs of pleasure. Max flutters over both of you, unsure if he should keep pushing the limit, but both you and Daniel yell confirmations of “Green!” that have Max ripping off his briefs, reaching between his legs and whimpering as he carefully tugs out the plug he’s had in for the entire time.

Daniel’s eyes roll in disbelief, his brain exhausted to the point where he can’t string together any words to communicate his confusion.

Max huffs out a hysterical giggle, one hand stroking along his cock as he tosses the plug off the side of the bed. “Fuck–you were in the shower forever, Daniel. I’ve had that in for too long.”

The younger man shakes as he lowers himself on Daniel’s cock, bottoming out with a whimper as he mouths down at Daniel, “Just one more, baby, okay? Make me come, yeah?”

The older man’s moan is curdled with overstimulation, but he finds the will to get his feet underneath him and shakily thrust upwards into Max, hoping somehow that that’s enough. Max lets his head fall back in pleasure, thankful for the moving pressure of Daniel’s cock inside of him rather than the consistent annoyance of the plug holding him open. Coupled with the stretch of his rim and his hand furiously twisting along his length, Max reaches his peak quickly.

Before taking the plunge, he chokes out words of praise at Daniel and you rush to do the same, understanding that Max is attempting to push Daniel over the edge as well. You see tears of frustration build in Daniel’s eyes as he struggles to fully give in, and you fall forward to tug at his nipples with your teeth, reinvigorating Daniel’s attempts at slipping from the silk ties. At the sight, Max shouts, body tightening and then relaxing as he strokes out ribbons of cum. Daniel’s hips stutter when the first drop of cum lands on his skin and you feel his lungs halt as the strongest orgasm—most likely dry, at that—wreaks havoc upon his body.

His body goes limp underneath the two of you, and his hands droop in their binds. You speedily untie Daniel’s arms as Max slowly slips off the man’s rapidly softening length, trying to lessen any unwanted stimulation for the unaware Australian. You catch his arms before they fall against the bed, rubbing your hands against them to coax proper blood flow in them. Spent, Max stumbles to Daniel’s side, taking one arm out of your hands and matching your movements.

“Good job, liefje,” Max breathes out, smiling up at you with an exhausted smile, his hair drenched with sweat and falling in front of his eyes. You blush and kiss him sweetly, “It was your idea!”

Max shakes his head, pausing his hands to reach down and brush Daniel’s curls off his forehead, “No; you made half of the plan. So, it was our idea.”

The Australian groans, eyes fluttering open but they’re still clouded enough that you both know he’s going to need more than enough TLC tonight, “ —idea made me think i w‘sgonna die.”

Max laughs, rubbing circles around the man’s temple, “I guess we forgot to factor in your old age as a variable, didn’t we, liefje?”

Daniel’s face flutters in displeasure at being referred to as “old,” even when he’s not quite come down, “Mean, Maxy.”

You giggle, “That’s what he calls mean out of this entire experience?”

The Dutchman presses kisses to both of your foreheads before he stumbles out of bed, “I’m going to grab some fruit and cream for Daniel’s wrists. Should I grab anything else?” He directs the question to you.

Of course, the Australian jumps in before you have the chance to respond, “Lemonade, please.”

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buckgasms · 2 months ago

Note

Bucky with a reader who reads smutty books?

She's perfected a straight face reading technique for when she's sat in public reading filth. Bucky thinks she reads innocent shit like fairy tales or soemthing so he buys her books like that (she loves his effort but finds them so boring that they live perminantley on the shelf in their living room).

One day she leaves the book open in the living room while she pops to the toilet and he picks it up to see what all the fuss is about. She comes back to him blushing like mad on the sofa reading the smuttiest smut of all smut and looking up at her like 😳 "this your sorta thing huh?" And while he isn't jealous that she reads that he finds it strange that she hid it from him. He asks her to show him what she finds so hot about it and they get to baby making ;)

-🐰

Hey 🐰! Hope you've been ok?

Yes I like this very much. I'm picturing a sort of Avengers Bucky boyfriend because we know what happens when Daddy finds Princess' smutty book 🫣

I imagine the confusion starts because all the covers have various fairytale-esque pictures. You'd just need to look a bit closer to realise they were slightly off!

When he asks why you didn't mention it, you just ramble about how you didn't want to be weird and if he thought it was too kinky or whatever you were happy to just keep it to yourself.

He just tuts, flipping through the pages and reads the bit you just were. I'm imagining it's a red riding hood book where the big bad wolf is eating her, but just in a very different way.

"Wow. He's really working on her there huh? And you keep a straight face when you're reading this stuff?"

You giggle and nod but he keeps flicking through and you sense that perhaps he's a little miffed about something. So you crawl over and climb into his lap, throwing the book to one side.

"Are you mad about my book Bucky?" You say softly, running your hands over his chest and rolling your hips gently.

He grunts a little and can't resist holding on to your hips and squeezing gently at your waist.

"No" he pouts, "just wish you woulda told me you like that stuff... Coulda been doing...." He peters off but you can't let that slide.

"Wait, could have been doing what Bucky? You wanna be my big bad wolf?" You grip his face and lean down to kiss him, not missing the way his hips push upwards, enjoying the way his fingers stroke down your neck and move to grip your waist.

"I dunno, what is it you want me to do?"

You sit back on his lap and grab the book, flicking through as he massages little circles on your hips.

"Well I guess in this one... He chases her a little, and rips her dress off.... Oh and there's a bit where he pins her down and yknow...licks at her..."

You look up from the book and see Bucky staring at you with a devilish look in his eyes.

"Well then little red, you better get running..."

You giggle but he pulls you in closer and whispers in your ear, "or I'll fuck ya right here..." Before scraping his teeth across your soft skin.

You squeal as you leap from his lap and pelt down the corridor to the lift that will take you to your floor. You see him coming round the corner as you make it, slamming on the 'close door' button as he approaches, a big grin on his face.

You sigh as the doors slide shut and then you have the agonising wait to reach your floor. It's only a few floors down, but you wonder how long it will take him to catch up.

Before you have much time then doors slide open and the corridor is eerily quiet. You can't hear any sound other than the low hum of the lift.

You tentatively step out and make to run to your shared apartment with Bucky. You get a few steps to the door when you feel a metal hand grip your mouth and a strong arm wrap around your waist, holding you tight.

"Gotcha..."

📚

He ripped your dress to pieces and pinned you down on the floor, barely making it into the apartment before he was dragging your heat to his face and devouring you. All you could do was cling to the rug as he sucked, nibbled and licked at your sensitive folds.

He carries his prize to the bedroom and puts you on your knees, ass in the air and places your book in front of you.

"Read it. Out loud..."

You flush furiously as you hear his zipper being pulled down and the mattress dip as he settles behind you.

As you begin to read his cock is dragged along your pussy, teasing you and torturing you as you struggle to read.

"Buckkky..." You whine as he presses his leaking tip just a little inside, but he stops and lands so swats onto your ass.

"Come on babygirl, I wanna know what happens. I'm pretty invested in the plotline now yknow..."

You pant and moan but manage to keep reading, describing how the wolf/man fucks the heroine, claiming her body as his, biting and bruising her delicate body. His big cock stretching her wide, hitting parts that no one has been able to before.

The book falls from your grip as he pounds into you. It was a bit of a head rush to have your incredibly hot boyfriend enacting smut and you let out a long, happy moan as he pulls you upwards, spearing his cock deeper, hitting more sensitive places with unrelenting lust.

"Oh my god Bucky.... Please, can I come please?"

He growls in your ear and uses his metal hand to grip your throat, squeezing slightly making your eyes roll. You cling onto the cool metal for dear life, as you crash into your peak, screaming out for him.

You both fall forward, Bucky managing to prop himself up to avoid squishing you, but as your walls continue to flutter around him, he can't hold himself any longer and falls down on top of you.

You giggle and wiggle until you have him resting on your chest, fingers running through his hair as he presses kisses to your soft skin.

📚

Omg imagine if this happened 🫣 also I may need to go back to writing ABO stuff because 🤤

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #🐰

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bigification · 5 months ago

Text

New Recruit

Darren wanted to take advantage of the hot weather while it lasted. He pulled on his shortest shorts and went to sunbathe on his front porch. Those washboard abs of his need to be shown off this summer, so he wouldn't dare hide them. The cool breeze and the blazing sun on Darren's skin felt so relaxing, enough so that he dozed off to sleep.

FWOOOOMP

"Ow!" He woke up in a panic. "What the hell?" He said as he pulled a small dart out of his arm. He looked around quickly, but no one was in sight. Were his friends fucking with him. Either way it hurt.

It didn't take long for the nausea to kick in. He tried standing up, but his head was spinning. A tingly feeling sprouted from his arm, where the dart hit.

Suddenly his arm swelled with muscle and fat. His skinny but defined arms doubled in size, with a thick layer of fat making them look soft. His hands thickened, growing callouses as if he'd been labouring his whole life.

The transformation moved up his arm to his shoulder. His shoulders broadened as his traps bulged out of his neck. His flat chest bounced as two soft man tits formed over his pecs, a silver ring over his enlarged nipple. His abs rapidly disappeared under a thick layer of fat, creating a round belly that protruded forward from his body.

His back muscles rippled, matching his massive shoulders as the transformation moved to his other arm. For a moment his left arm looked tiny in comparison to his massive torso, but it soon ballooned to the size of his right arm. And a biker tattoo imprinted on the size of his thick bicep.

This was when Darren finally realized what was happening. He knew he should have been concerned, but the euphoric feeling coursing through his body as it transformed felt too good.

His perky ass swelled with fat, quickly filling all the free space in his shorts. Rips crackled from his shorts as they strained to hold his growing body. His thighs then doubled in girth as they grew to a size any footballer would be jealous of. His legs also stretched as they grew, making him at least six inches taller than he was moments prior. Even his feet burst out his sandals, going from a size 10 to a monstrous size 18. Luckily the increased surface area of his massive feet made him regain his balance as he started to get used to his hulking body.

The transformation in his body had nearly come to an end as it moved up to his head. His neck thickened, matching his large traps. His sharp jawline melted into a soft double chin as patchy stubble covered his face. His cheeks puffed out as a thick handle bar mustache formed over his lip. His facial features became more rugged, aging him at least 30 years as his hairline receded. And the remaining hair shortened down to a manly buzz cut.

As his head transformed, so did his brain. Hir memories of being a sexy college student are replaced with those of a 50 something biker. His delicacy was replaced with a more aggressive demeanor, and all he could think about was sex. He could feel his dick grow in his tight pants. A final effect of his transformation, his dick began to hang out the bottom of his jean shorts. As he regained his composure, he rushed to push his dick back in his pants.

"Hey Darren! You really can't keep your dick in your pants can ya!" A biker yelled from the bottom of his driveway.

Darren blushed in response as he fully pushed his dick back into his shorts.

"Here put these on and let's go." The biker throws some leather towards Darren. "Let's go put that dick to good use." The biker said with a wink.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #male wg #reality change #male transformation #muscle tf #age progression

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pixiesfz · 5 months ago

Text

part 2 of this

moving on j.r x reader

plot: you are an adult now and move to Manchester

warnings: in this jill never played at Arsenal and also this has some heavy themes of SA and toxic relationships

Years later you had gotten out of your family home, earning enough money to fly out to Manchester and own your apartment, leaving your family behind.

You had healed.

You were openly out and had made many friends in the city. You sometimes went out to watch the soccer, men's or women’s. It gave you the comfort that reminded you of Jill.

You had seen her Instagram, your finger hovering over the follow button for far too long.

Career-wise your life had been doing amazing, all your singing writing as a teenager had paid off as you sold your songs off to famous singers and heard them sing them on stages.

You had recently finally settled into your apartment, just adding in a small detail here and there.

Your favourite part of owning your own home was the control you had, picking which sheets you used, choosing what paint color you would paint your bedroom walls, and finally choosing who you let in.

You never told your parents where exactly you were moving, you just said Europe and left.

You didn’t want them trying to control you in your own home.

It was about your fifth week in Manchester when you met Ellie, you were walking from a local furniture store with a rugged stool in your hand, you thought it wouldn’t be a hassle to walk but when he offered you two for the price of one you took it.

And now you couldn’t see where you were going.

Ellie was walking nearby and noticed your struggle immediately, walking over and offering to help you.

“I’m Ellie” she introduced herself once she placed the stool in front of your door

“Y/N” you smiled before looking at the door and then back to the older girl “Would you like to come in?” you asked, a blush roaming over your cheeks.

Ellie nodded “Yeah I would like that”, you nodded back before opening the door for both of you as you placed the stools down nearby.

You had swapped numbers that night, an obvious connection being created as you saw each other more.

You had created some friends in your workplace, sharing fun ideas with each other and sharing stories.

“You and Ellie are so perfect it’s like a movie” Olivia gushed as you told her how she brought you flowers last night. “I know, she’s amazing” you laughed, placing your papers down.

“It’s good being able to love in person, not behind a door” you told her and she nodded, already knowing about your past life when you lived with your parents.

“I’m happy for you”.

You had been so infatuated with Ellie that you never heard of the news of Jill’s move to Manchester City from Wolfsburg. Personally you were following Manchester United but Ellie was big on City so when she dragged you to a Manchester derby you were a tad bit excited.

You had also invited Olivia and her husband to come with you as you all sat down in the stands. The game was starting soon as you cheered for the girls in red, you knew they would most likely lose from how good you heard City were doing but you still had hope.

Jill had walked out onto the field, shaking her hands to rid of her nerves, she craned her neck round after before shaking her legs, a small ritual she did as she walked onto the ground.

There wasn’t a big crowd today, due to the earlier game time but she didn’t mind, usually, when she played in small games she was more aware of all her options.

You were watching the united girls warm up in front of you, joining into chants here and there, your girlfriend refusing to sing the chants with you.

“Oh C’mon babe just one” you whined, pulling out your finger to represent the number “You sing a city one then” she shot back and you shook your head “Only if you sing united”

“Ok what about Roord, she’s my favourite player” your girlfriend said and your skin went pale.

“Roord?” you question and your girlfriend smiled “yeah Jill, she plays for your international team, I’ll teach you all about soccer babe it’s fine”

You reached your head around to see the City girls and there she was.

She was taller, her hair was blonder and she was still as gorgeous as ever, Jill.

Your Jill.

You choked on your water, throwing a thumbs up when Olivia’s husband asked if you were okay.

When the game started you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her, fortunately, Ellie was too into the game to notice your very obvious stare at the Dutch player.

When the game ended 2-0 City’s way you watched as your girlfriend ran back to the stands to grab a pen.

Jill had started her lap around the oval, deciding to go do it herself instead of with Kerstin because she didn’t want to stand through another lovey-dovey conversation between her and her girlfriend.

You had been talking to someone behind you when she heard a Dutch accent, being intrigued to find a Dutch person at a game but when she looked up to you she was frozen, ignoring the fans calling her name.

“Y/N?”

You turned around from the sound of your name only to be met with the eyes that you fell in love with years ago.

“Y/N?” another voice popped up and you turned your head to your girlfriend who had knocked her head in the direction of Jill.

“Oh, Ellie uhm- “

“Do you want that signed?” Jill asked, directing her hand to the City jersey Ellie held in her hands before she nodded

“How do you know my girlfriend?” Ellie asked before you looked at her weirdly, Jill also looking up with shock

“We went to the same school” Jill smiled dryly before passing back the shirt “Uh it was nice to see you,” Jill said to you before walking straight to the tunnel, skipping the rest of the fans.

You shared weird looks with all of your friends. Ellie’s eyes looking down at you. “Why did you never tell me you knew one of my favourite soccer players?”

You shrugged a fake laugh escaping your lips “I guess it just never came up.”

The car ride home was silent, Olivia and her husband left in an Uber from the game to go to her parents house, which left you and Ellie in the car alone.

Usually, this wouldn’t matter to you. You and Ellie are in the car together all the time.

This felt different. She hadn’t looked at you since you got in and her knuckles were turning white at the steering wheel.

“Ellie-“ “When you told me your parents found you with a girl once was it Jill?”

You were taken back from the question “Why does it matter?” you ask and she rolled her eyes “Was it?”

You scoffed “I don’t see how it’s any of your business but yes, yes it was”

You saw her knuckles turn even whiter as she turned into her apartment. A pit forms in your stomach “Can you drop me home to mine?” you ask and she turns to you “It’s late y/n, you know I don’t like driving at night”

You pursed your lips nodding “alright” you said and got out of the car.

You decided to shed some light on the situation as you went in “Do you want to watch some Netflix, you can pick a show and I’ll make popcorn” You smiled and Ellie nodded, a slight smile on her lips as she kissed your cheek and made her way into her bedroom.

“That’s not the living room!” you joke but you hear no reply.

Once you finally finished the popcorn you walked into the living room to see no Ellie “Ellie c’mon housewives is on!” You yell out to your girlfriend who finally comes back in with black trousers on, she looks a bit blushed but you ignore it.

“hey” she smiled at you before sitting next to you “What were you doing in your room for so long?” you asked softly and she shrugged “Got distracted on my phone I guess” she shrugged and you nodded

Minutes later your fatigue started to take control of you as you rolled to the pillow next to you, Ellie watching with a smirk.

“I have a surprise for you” she whispered and you hummed “What is it?” you asked and she smiled up against your ear before kissing your neck gently “Here”.

You pushed away when she pressed her body against your back and you felt it. She must have put it on whilst she was in her room.

You just wanted to have a rest on the couch “Not tonight El” you told her, taking her hand and kissing it gently.

But Ellie didn’t seem to like that idea because she pressed harder against you “please I just want you so bad”

You shook your head “I’m not that into it tonight” You shrugged and tried to sit up but your girlfriend's arms pushed you back down before she hovered over you.

You panicked “What are you doing?”

“I want you,” she said and started kissing your neck as you tried to push her away but instead, she grabbed your hands and pulled them above you “Stop fighting it you wanted it last week”

“Get off me,” you told her, now using your legs but they were no use as she sat on your lap “Ellie stop-“

You were silenced as her palm hit your face “Shut up”

“I’m going to fuck you and you are going to like it”.

#woso #woso soccer #woso community #woso x reader #jill roord x reader #jill roord imagine #jill roord #manchester city #mancity

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rootedinrevisions · 1 day ago

Text

Five Years

SUMMARY: Five years of friendship. Years of silent longing. One night that changes everything. When Tyler Owens, a charming, rugged man with a penchant for keeping things casual, finds himself at a crossroads with the woman he's secretly loved for years, he realizes he might have waited too long. After one too many moments where you've been left wanting more, you find yourself torn between the comfort of their deep connection and the pain of being stuck in the friend zone. Tyler has one last shot to show you that he’s not just the man you turn to in the hard moments—but the man who can make you believe in love, again.

A/N: Sorry for all the angsty Tyler lately! It's just been the mood/vibe lately so I've been rolling with it! Thanks to the person who sent this request in! I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "What was he doing back there? Flirting with you like he has a fucking chance?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

It’s late, the kind of quiet that comes when the night has softened everything into shadows. You and Tyler are back in the motel room, tangled together in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His arm drapes over you, and you’re curled into his side, your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The scent of whiskey lingers between you, mingling with the warmth of his skin, and you can still taste him faintly on your lips. Another night, another round of kisses exchanged under the dim motel lights, like something fragile and fleeting.

He stirs, his hand brushing along your back, and you wonder if he’s on the edge of sleep or just drifting in that space in between like you are. For a moment, you’re tempted to ask him the question that’s always on the tip of your tongue: What are we doing?

Instead, you stay silent, breathing in sync with him, wondering if he can feel the way your heart skips each time he holds you like this. He shifts, drawing you a little closer, and you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something soft, maybe even vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly slurred. “You’re comfortable, right?” His hand rests at the curve of your hip, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you.

You nod, managing a quiet, “Yeah. Always.” You know he’ll pretend he doesn’t remember this in the morning, brush it off like it’s nothing, and you’ll let him because it’s easier that way. But tonight, you can pretend a little too—that these quiet moments mean the same to him as they do to you.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, wondering how much longer you can keep pretending before you’re forced to admit the truth—to yourself, if not to him.

Then, out of nowhere, he says, “So… I just found out I’m being inducted into the PBR Hall of Fame.”

You blink, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. A smile lights up your face. “Tyler, that’s amazing! I mean, I knew you were a big deal, but… Hall of Fame?”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head with that familiar modesty. “Yeah, kinda crazy, huh? Guess all those years getting tossed around finally paid off.”

You laugh, knowing he’s downplaying it. You’ve seen some of those old videos, clips of him taking on bulls with more force and heart than anyone you’d ever met.

“No one deserves it more than you,” you say softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he looks away, and then, clearing his throat, he glances back at you.

“Thanks, means a lot,” he says, his voice softer. Then, after a moment, he adds, “Actually… I get a plus one to the induction ceremony. I was thinking maybe you’d want to come with me?”

Your heart skips at that. He doesn’t even pause to consider anyone else; he’s asking you. For a moment, you feel a surge of excitement that maybe this is more than just a friendly invite. But just as quickly, doubt seeps in. If he had a girlfriend, he’d take her, wouldn’t he? A familiar ache settles in your chest, the quiet reminder that maybe this is just about convenience for him.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, and casual. “I mean, you could take anyone.”

He glances at you with a soft smile, his eyes sincere. “Nah. Can’t think of anyone better. You’d come, right?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue—Of course, I’ll go.

Instead, you hesitate, just for a second, wondering if this is just a placeholder invitation until he finds someone to fill the spot he’s never openly said he wants to be filled. But you can’t bear the thought of missing the moment, so you nod, managing a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He grins, pulling you back into his chest, and you settle against him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. But even as you breathe him in, letting the steady beat of his heart calm you, a question begins to take root in your mind. Where do we really stand, Tyler?

It’s a question you keep to yourself, swallowing it down as you close your eyes and listen to the silence settle around you once again.

* * * * *

The ballroom buzzed with energy and anticipation, and you could sense the excitement radiating from Tyler beside you. The event space was elegantly decorated, with every table set with crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. But you hardly noticed any of it; all your focus was on Tyler. This was his night. And you were honored to be here with him, even if you didn’t quite know what that meant for the two of you.

You eventually found your way to your seats near the front of the room, and Tyler’s hand brushed against yours as you sat down. His fingers lingered just a moment, a subtle contact that sent a rush of warmth up your arm.

Before you could say anything, the lights dimmed as the emcee took to the stage, announcing the start of the ceremony. The audience fell quiet, and Tyler’s hand was warm on your knee, a comforting weight that made your heart race. You glanced down at his hand, then back up to his face, wondering if he even realized the effect he had on you.

A part of you wanted to reach for his hand again, to close the gap between you both once and for all, but you stayed still, holding your breath as the ceremony began.

As the awards were announced one by one, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Tyler. He seemed to sit straighter with each name called, his eyes never leaving the stage. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the emcee announced Tyler’s name, and the room burst into applause. You clapped the loudest, your heart swelling with pride.

You watched as Tyler walked to the stage, his stride steady and confident, shoulders back with that natural charisma he carried wherever he went. When he accepted his award, he stood there with his plaque, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on you. The spotlight hit his face, highlighting the small, crooked smile you knew so well. And his eyes—dark, intense, focused on you—seemed to say something unspoken.

You felt your breath catch, frozen under his gaze, and for a second, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

His acceptance speech was simple and heartfelt. He thanked the people who had been there with him through the highs and lows. He spoke of long, hard days, the sacrifices he’d made, and the passion that drove him. But you could’ve sworn that when he mentioned his gratitude for “the people who kept him grounded,” his eyes found you once again.

As Tyler wrapped up his speech and made his way back to his seat, you barely had a chance to process the pride you felt for him, for everything he’d accomplished. But that brief moment when he’d looked at you on stage lingered in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Could it have meant something more?

He sat back down next to you, and you leaned over, unable to keep the smile from your face. “That was incredible, Ty. I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you, a soft chuckle escaping as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I think I might’ve fumbled a little bit up there.”

“Not even close,” you replied, squeezing his arm. “You were perfect.”

The atmosphere at the afterparty was more relaxed, a contrast to the formality of the ceremony.

The room buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, everyone here to celebrate the achievements of legends, past and present. You’re standing beside Tyler, trying to blend into the background of the room’s energy. But then, without warning, Tyler reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours before intertwining them completely. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a rush of warmth through you. He glances at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment, almost as if he’s silently asking if this is okay, if you’re okay. You squeeze his hand, hoping he’ll understand that, yes, this is more than okay.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he says, his voice low and soft. He leads you through the crowd toward a man with a broad smile and lines etched deep around his eyes—Tyler’s old mentor. Tyler introduces you with a genuine warmth that makes you feel like you belong here, like you’re not just an accessory to his big night but someone he wants by his side.

As they begin chatting, Tyler’s hand drifts to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your hip as he pulls you closer, fitting you against his side. You feel a warmth blossom in your chest, and for a moment, the nagging doubts you’d been harboring vanish. His mentor jokes about old times, and Tyler laughs, giving your waist a small squeeze as if to share the moment with you. You let yourself lean into him, letting his warmth melt away the walls you’d tried to build around your heart.

But then, as the conversation comes to a close, he lets go. Just like that, his hand falls from your waist, and he takes a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets, a casual smile on his face. He glances around the room, no longer focused on you, and the sudden distance sends a chill down your spine. You’re standing side by side, but the connection feels fractured, like a missed beat. He begins walking next to you, his attention now elsewhere, no hand-holding, no gentle touches to keep you close.

Half an hour later you’re standing next to Tyler, trying to stay engaged with the conversation he’s having with an old friend he used to ride with, someone who knows a side of him you’ve only heard about in stories. Tyler’s posture is easy, his laugh warm and unguarded in a way that you rarely get to see. You watch him as he reminisces, letting yourself get lost in the sound of his laughter, in the way his eyes light up with a spark of the past. But as they continue to talk, it becomes clear that he’s in his own world, like you’re not even there.

The laughter between them grows, each memory shared drawing them further back into the years before you knew him. You shift your weight, feeling a slight ache in your chest as you realize just how separate you feel from this part of his life. A sense of loneliness creeps in, one you can’t shake, and you find yourself glancing toward the bar. Maybe a drink will help dull the sting.

You start to turn, your heart heavy, but just then, you feel Tyler’s hand reach out, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. The touch is so familiar, so comforting, and for a brief second, that hopeful warmth flickers back to life.

You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye, a hint of something unreadable there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter, as if trying to break through to you despite the noise around.

You swallow, forcing a smile to cover the twinge of sadness that’s growing in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, nodding toward the bar. “Just thirsty. Thought I’d grab a drink.”

He nods, giving your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, turning back to his friend with that easy laugh that now feels like a barrier you can’t quite cross. You turn away, your heart sinking as you walk toward the bar, feeling the absence of his hand like a chill creeping over your skin. You can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that settles heavy and cold. Just moments ago, he was intertwining your fingers, holding you close with his hand on your waist, like you were more than just a companion for the night.

How did it change so quickly? How did he go from holding you, grounding you with those intimate touches, to leaving you in this limbo of almost but not quite? You realize that, despite how much he means to you, there’s a line between you that he doesn’t seem ready to cross. And that thought hurts more than you want to admit.

You’re leaning against the bar, lost in thought, when a voice breaks through the noise, smooth and warm. “Hey there. You look like you could use some company.”

You glance up to find a guy with a charming grin and a relaxed confidence that’s instantly disarming. He extends a hand. “Eli Vastbinder,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

For a moment, you’re taken off guard, but you shake his hand and introduce yourself, motioning to where Tyler’s standing in the distance. “I’m here with Tyler Owens.”

At the mention of Tyler’s name, a flicker of something—maybe disappointment, maybe surprise—crosses Eli’s face before he recovers his smile. “Owens, huh? How do you know the Tornado Wrangler?”

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, feeling some of the tension ease as you explain. “We work together. I help him run his YouTube channel.”

Eli’s gaze shifts from Tyler back to you, a curious glint in his eye as if he’s sizing up the situation. He doesn’t linger on it for long, though, before flashing you a daring smile. “So, just coworkers, huh? In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I bought you a drink?”

The question lingers, sparking a twist of hesitation in your chest. You glance over at Tyler, hoping for some kind of sign, some acknowledgment of what you’re feeling. Your eyes meet his, and he offers you a casual smile before turning his attention back to his friend. The moment leaves you cold—another reminder of all the times he’s pulled you close, only to leave you feeling as if you’re just out of reach.

You turn back to Eli, a decision settling in your mind. Tyler isn’t claiming you. He never has. And he’s had five years to do so.

You give Eli a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

Eli’s grin widens as he orders your drink, leaning in just slightly as he asks about your work with Tyler. He’s charming, effortlessly making you feel seen and appreciated. There’s a warm intensity in his gaze, like he’s genuinely interested in hearing about your life, in learning the pieces of you that Tyler seems to take for granted. You laugh at his jokes, leaning in as he tells stories about the crazy things he’s seen on the road. Every so often, his hand brushes yours, sending a little thrill through you—like something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in far too long.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders. There’s no ambiguity with Eli; his attention is clear, unburdened by mixed signals or unspoken boundaries. It’s refreshing, exciting, even, to be the center of someone’s focus without second-guessing their intentions.

You glance over at Tyler once more, but he’s still wrapped up in conversation, seemingly unaware of the ache you’ve carried alone. A part of you wants him to notice, to see what’s happening, to finally feel the urgency you’ve held onto for years. But there’s another part of you that’s finished waiting.

As you turn back to Eli, you find yourself smiling, the kind of smile that feels like letting go.

You’re laughing at something Eli just said, a relaxed warmth in your chest that’s been missing around Tyler lately, when you feel a familiar presence behind you. You glance back, and there he is—Tyler, wearing that easy smile that’s disarmed you a hundred times before. He leans close, his hand slipping around your waist, fingers warm and possessive against your hip. “Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, the pet name rolling off his tongue as naturally as the smirk tugging at his lips.

But Tyler doesn’t stop there. His gaze shifts to Eli, assessing him for a beat, and then extends a hand. “I see you’ve met my date,” he says, voice casual but with a certain edge, like a claim staked.

You freeze, glancing up at him, surprised and confused by his sudden assertiveness. Eli’s expression mirrors your own—slightly perplexed, eyebrows lifting as he takes Tyler’s hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes flicker back to you, questioning. “Date? I thought you two were just coworkers,” he remarks, eyes shifting meaningfully to Tyler’s hand, still resting on your hip.

Before you can answer, Tyler lets out a dismissive scoff, as if the notion of you two being “just coworkers” is absurd. “Coworkers?” he echoes, his hand tightening just a fraction. “Yeah, we’re a little closer than that.” He shoots a look at you that’s both playful and possessive.

You feel your blood simmer, heat rising in your chest at the presumption in his tone. As if you’re some claim he can lay when it’s convenient, without any real commitment. You step out of his grip, your voice firm as you say, “We are just coworkers.” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t soften them.

Tyler’s smile falters, his brow furrowing, but you’ve already turned away, excusing yourself quickly to Eli before slipping out toward the exit.

Humiliation washes over you, prickling your skin as you push through the crowd, needing fresh air, needing space. You had been enjoying a perfectly nice conversation with Eli, feeling appreciated and even flattered, until Tyler decided to swoop in and turn the moment into something possessive and confusing.

As you reach the hallway, you feel a sharp sting behind your eyes. Tears blur your vision, and you blink them back, furious with yourself for letting Tyler get to you like this. You’re tired—tired of being in his orbit only when he wants you to be, of being treated as something more only when it suits him. Because heaven forbid another guy notices you.

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices drifting from the ballroom as you stand there, waiting for the elevator. The moment stretches, tense and thick, when you hear his footsteps behind you, his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around. “Tyler… don’t.” The plea is barely above a whisper, but he ignores it, closing the distance between you, his face etched with frustration.

“What was he doing back there?” he asks, motioning down the hall toward the ballroom, his tone hard, possessive. “Flirting with you like he has a chance?”

Your heart twists painfully at his words. His tone says it all—like he assumes you’re his, like it’s obvious. Like you should know.

But you’re done with the assumptions. The words spill out before you can stop them, thick with months, years, of unspoken hurt. “And why would you care, Tyler?” Your voice cracks, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek, quickly followed by another. “It’s not like we’re together, right? You said it yourself—we’ll never be anything more than friends. We’re just…” You falter, searching for the right words, but the truth tumbles out, raw and painful. “We’re just really close, and we make out sometimes. Nothing more.”

The weight of it hangs in the air, and you can see the impact of your words in the way his face falls, his expression softening, regretful.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out, but you shake your head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling to the surface.

“No, Tyler.” You step back, keeping the space between you. “I’m done. I’m done with this… with you.” Your voice shakes, but the conviction is there, clear and sharp. “I’m done not being good enough. Done being yours only when you want someone on your arm or in your bed. I can’t keep doing this.” You wipe a tear from your cheek, gathering whatever strength you have left. “I’m done with everything. Our friendship. The channel. All of it.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a quiet chime. You glance back at him one last time, taking in the hurt and confusion in his eyes.

“Go back to the party, Tyler. It’s your night. You deserve it.”

You step into the elevator, pressing the button as the doors start to close. The last thing you see before they shut is him standing there, looking lost and completely, utterly alone.

Back in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, you feel the emotions from the hallway encounter with Tyler crash over you. It’s almost overwhelming, but you shake your head, determined to focus on the immediate task. You kick off your heels and reach for the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it slide down as the gown falls in a pool around your feet. You step out of it, scooping it up to drape over the chair, and head to your bag, ready to change and leave before you can overthink it.

Digging through your clothes, you pull out the first shirt, but frustration prickles at you when you realize it’s one of Tyler’s. With an annoyed huff, you toss it on the bed. You dig deeper, pulling out another… his again. Why didn’t I pack more of my own clothes? you think bitterly, remembering that his shirts have been your usual comfort, your routine.

Finally, you find one of your own t-shirts and pull it on, then slide into a pair of jeans. You run a hand over your face, taking a deep breath to keep yourself from falling apart, and open your suitcase, methodically folding the rest of your things and stowing them away. As you pack, a plan begins to form, each step sounding clearer in your mind. You’ll finish packing, get a car downstairs to a nearby hotel for the night, and fly back tomorrow. It might be an awkward plane ride home, but you’ll put in headphones, turn away, and then… you’ll walk away from Tyler James Owens for good.

With your bag nearly ready, you look around the room one last time, eyes falling on the small pile of his things on the bed. His shirts, the ones you’ve wrapped yourself in so many times, now just reminders of all the blurred lines that never became anything real. You turn away, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, willing the resolve to carry you through whatever comes next.

You reach for the handle of your suitcase, ready to walk out of Tyler’s life for good, when the hotel room door opens behind you. Your heart races, and for a second you want to pretend you don’t notice him there, but when you turn, his expression says he’s already figured out exactly what’s happening. His eyes drop to the half-packed suitcase, then back to your face. His look of confusion shifts into something desperate.

“Please,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, almost raw. “Please, stay. We can talk about this. Just… don’t leave. Not like this.”

You shake your head, fighting the tears that are already building again. “Tyler, I’m done,” you say, your voice trembling. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You keep me close enough to feel like there’s something between us, but it’s never anything more. It’s just not fair anymore.”

You curse under your breath, blinking hard as the tears spill over. You don’t want him to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, hurt. Swallowing back a sob, you start to walk past him, head held high even as you feel yourself shattering. Just as your hand reaches for the door, he says it. Those three words you’ve been waiting for, holding onto, for what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

It stops you cold, and you stand there, hand frozen on the doorknob, not sure if you actually heard him or if it’s just some desperate wish in your mind. But then he speaks again.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steady, almost pleading. “And if you love me—if you can still love me—then I’m asking you to stay and just… hear me out. But if you’re done with me, really done, and I’ve already lost you… then go.”

The silence hangs between you, thick and charged. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, and there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. Vulnerability, sincerity, something real and unguarded. He’s finally opened himself up, given you the one thing you’ve been longing to hear, but the choice to stay or leave is yours.

Your chest tightens as you search his face, feeling the weight of all the years, the almosts, the near-misses, the longing. He stands there, his hands clenched at his sides, waiting, as if he’s holding his breath.

“You… really love me?” you whisper, the words barely audible.

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping toward you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I just… didn’t know how to show it, and I was afraid if I did, you’d walk away. But losing you… that’s the one thing I’m really afraid of.”

You take a shaky breath, looking into his eyes, feeling every bit of his honesty, and for the first time, he’s offering you everything, without conditions, without holding back. The pain and hurt are still there, but as he waits, the tears in his own eyes now, you feel something else rising to the surface—a glimmer of hope.

The words are out before you can stop them.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Tyler steps forward, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand the storm inside you. He reaches up, hesitantly at first, as though unsure if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, his hands gently cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. His thumbs swipe at the tears still streaking down your cheeks, wiping them away as if he can erase all the pain he’s caused with one simple gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For not telling you sooner, for not making a move sooner… for making you feel like you don’t matter. For making you cry. You deserve so much more than that.”

You’re frozen, his words sinking deep into the cracks of your heart that you didn’t even know were there. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a silent apology that speaks louder than anything else could.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low but sincere. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’m asking… can you give me another chance? To do it right this time? To take you on a real date, to buy you flowers, to tell the world that you’re mine… to be proud to have you by my side. I want to do this right, with you. Will you give me one more chance?”

The weight of his words hangs between you, and you feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack. He’s standing there, fully exposed, offering you everything he’s held back for so long. The room feels smaller, the air thicker as you look into his eyes, where you see nothing but vulnerability and hope.

You swallow hard, emotions warring inside you. You’ve wanted this—wanted him—to say it, to fight for you. And now that he is, you’re not sure whether to run or to stay. But as you stand there, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, something shifts. The hurt, the confusion, the loneliness—it all starts to unravel, replaced by a flicker of something new: hope.

You take a breath, your voice barely more than a whisper, but clear enough for him to hear. “Last chance, Owens.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s softer, more relieved than triumphant. He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Instead, he just pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug that’s full of promise, the kind that says he’s never letting you go. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe him.

You stand there, still in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. The tension that had built up over the last few days—hell, the last few years—seems to fade away in that moment. Tyler’s hands are warm on your back, his arms strong around you as if he’s holding on, not just to you, but to everything that was between you two. His breath is steady, the pulse in his chest calming yours. He doesn’t let go, not yet. You don’t want him to.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. There’s no need to. Words were said, the hurt was aired out, and now, the only thing left is the silence between you—a silence that feels like the promise of something better, something real.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft, full of regret and hope. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. "I meant every word," he says quietly, his voice steady but raw. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

You nod, feeling something inside you shift, finally able to let go of the heaviness that had been pulling at you for far too long. You offer him a small smile, your fingers brushing his lightly as you give him a gentle squeeze.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Hey…” His voice is quieter now, almost like he's considering his next words carefully. "How about we skip the rest of the party downstairs? We can grab some pizza, put on a movie, just... relax in here."

You glance at him, surprised by the suggestion, but something about the simplicity of it feels perfect. You nod, the corners of your mouth lifting into a genuine smile. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

Tyler’s eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll order the pizza. Whatever you want.”

You feel a sudden sense of relief wash over you. It’s not just the break from the chaos of the night, but the quiet, intimate comfort of knowing that it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure.

Tyler watches you for a moment, his smile softening as he watches you dig through your suitcase for something comfortable. You pull out a pair of sweatpants, replacing your jeans, and as you move to crawl onto the bed, he’s already a step ahead of you.

Before you can sit down, he reaches for the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it up over your head. You freeze, giving him a confused look, about to protest. "Tyler, I’m really not in the mood—"

He cuts you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Not like that," he says, his voice teasing but warm. "Trust me, I’m not asking for anything like that."

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. Instead, he reaches down into your suitcase and pulls out one of the t-shirts you had tossed aside earlier—one of his shirts. He holds it out to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Here,” he says, “put this one on instead.”

You take the shirt from him, still a little baffled. “What’s wrong with my other shirt?”

Tyler grins, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, leaning down slightly as if he’s about to let you in on a secret.

“Because it’s not your boyfriend’s,” he says, his voice low and almost teasing. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you wear my shirt to bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. It’s the little things like this—the small gestures, the inside jokes, the way he’s already making you feel like you belong—that make the tension from earlier seem a little less heavy.

You slip the shirt on, and Tyler's eyes soften when he sees you in it, the way it fits just right, the way it looks like it belongs on you. You glance up at him as you finish adjusting it, your voice quieter now, full of warmth. “This better for you, boyfriend?”

"Yes." He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "I think you look pretty damn perfect in it."

You laugh softly, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened earlier melts away, leaving you with nothing but the quiet comfort of his presence. You sit down on the bed, pulling the blankets up and patting the spot beside you. "So, pizza and movies?"

Tyler nods, settling in beside you, having traded his tuxedo for sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hand finds its way to yours as he lets out a contented sigh. "Sounds like the perfect way to spend the night."

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things are exactly where they need to be.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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junipers-archive · 2 years ago

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Reíd request here! Could you do playing strip poker with Spencer?

Hi! yes ofc thank you for sending your idea to me, also hope you don't mind I kinda made this sub!spencer x reader and a lil smutty blurb:') Word count: 660//Includes smutty themes obviously & grinding & sub x dom dynamic a lil bit

"Four of a kind." You say smirking to yourself as Spencer blushes and ducks his head. He's down to his boxers by this point and similarly you're down to your underwear and bra.

Quietly looking up he replys, "Royal Flush."

To be fair this was your own fault. You were one who had insisted you two play strip poker when he had only suggested poker to pass the time. But in your defense you needed to get over this crush of yours.

It was getting embarrassing how many times you wondered what it would feel like to skim your fingers down his chest, kiss his neck, feel the weight of him under you, inside you...

So when Hotch told you you'd be rooming together you took it to your advantage.

You'd convinced yourself that worst case sceneario he'd flat out reject you and it'd be easier to get over him. Best case...well you'd see when the time came.

"You're kidding." He'd won the past few rounds. He had to be cheating, but to your surprise the very thought sent a rush of warmth to your core. If he was cheating, he wanted to win, and if he wanted to win...could that mean he wanted to see you naked?

"Nope!" he's smirking all the while blushing bright red as he puts his cards down for you to see, and when you lean over to get a good look you also give him one of your chest.

When he sputters, not even hiding the fact he's staring right at your tits you laugh, crawling slightly closer to him so he can see all of you better, even the curve of your ass which you purposely arch your back to create a better view for.

"See something you like, genius?"

Now he's turning his head every-which way trying to look anywhere but your chest, and failing horribly as he attempts to look downward which only gives him the best shot.

"I-I no! I- mean ye-yes-I just-I'm sorry-" he stutters as you grab his face, coming to sit on his lap where you take notice of his hard-on beneath you.

"Answer the question Doctor."

At that he whines, squirming, "Y-Yes?"

"Okay, that's good to hear" You begin trailing kisses down his neck and whispering, "So tell me Spence, since you won the last round, what piece of clothing do I take off now?"

"I-I get to choose?" His hands still haven't left the rug beneath him so you pull them to rest on the back of your thighs when you look up at him again.

"You win, pretty boy." you're whispering against hips lips at this point so you lean in to kiss him fully and feel him finally relax, grabbing your ass to pull you even closer.

When you pull back he's gasps, which you deem as your new favorite sound, "This."

It takes you a moment to realize he's referring to your lacy bra as he tugs at it from behind, giving you his big hazel doe eyes all the while.

When you unclasp it, its falls to the ground simultaneously as he audibly groans at your bare breasts.

He takes one hand off your ass, no longer shy, massaging one of your tits in one hand as he sucks small hickies that make your head spin on the other.

You giggle at his eagerness and slip his cock out of his boxers pumping it in your hand until the tip is leaking with pre-cum.

He whines when you swipe your finger over it, and you swear you could come at the sound alone.

It isn't until he begs that you begin to grind your clothed mound against him.

You both moan at the friction your panties provide and you yourself throw your head back as he begins to move you faster with the hand that remains on your ass.

And you're surprised that even in this blissed state you can hear him over both of your loud border-line pornographic moans, as he whispers against you, "Thank god for strip poker."

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deviouz · 7 months ago

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OKAY SO LIKE idk if you take requests anymore but I need this done so bad and I love your writing so like imagine Jason Todd being adopted and raised by Catwoman and the reader by Batman as robin like a girl robin and basically Jason needs info or wtv and he defeats the reader in a battle or something and handcuffs her and like seduces her for it and reader's usually had super high morals and stuff but she's like simping over him and melts for him practically but idk something like tht like cat women and Batman but roles reversed but yea

Totally get if this is like weird too much though lmao

here’s a lil drabble while i make my way through other requests <3 thank you lovie!! also, jason’s name didn’t really come up, so i guess you can imagine it as whoever? i did write with jason in mind though!! ;; soz

role reversal !

“Come on, I know you can spit it out. The old man can’t be that important to you.”

It was hard to fight off the embarrassed blush as you jerked your wrists from behind your back, the cold bite of steel a painful reminder of the predicament you had found yourself in. The fight was long and drawn out, having left both of you breathless for a while before your captor had gotten the upper hand. It was times like this you really wished you had paid more attention to your father’s teachings about how to get out of precarious circumstances as this one.

How the hell were you supposed to dislocate your thumb and slip out of the handcuffs again?

Being Robin had given you quite the ego. It hadn't really occurred to you that getting captured was a possibility. Batman had shown you every trick in the book on how not to get caught.

Your opponent was as sly as a fox, though. He was quick on his feet, definitely hard to defeat. It was when you had the upper hand, or believed so, that the rug was quickly pulled out from under you, sharp smile and all.

Silence would be your best friend. There was no way in hell you were going to divulge any information that could be used against either yourself or your family — you’d sooner die than allow that to happen.

It was when he had made way to pluck the black mask shielding your eyes did you move, head jerking to the side while a noise of disapproval escaped your throat.

“Don’t touch me.”

He kneeled before you, lips curled into a smirk as a hand trailed from your knee to the middle of your thigh. Your suit was thin, meant more for agility than anything. It was nothing compared to the protective kevlar of the Batsuit. Stealth was your strong suit, and it turns out lingering touches from a man clad in a catsuit was your kryptonite.

“Don’t be like that. We can have fun! I promise I’ll make it worth your time,” he practically purred, voice smooth and intoxicating. “Just tell me what you know.”

Had your heart always beat this fast? Did he drug you? Maybe it was the lack of sleep finally catching up, the deprivation rearing its ugly head at the worst possible time.

“I thought I told you not to touch me,” you quipped back with a clenched jaw. Hands balled into fists and eyes narrowed, you were a sight for sore eyes. “How about you take these cuffs off and we go for a round two, hm?”

He had the audacity to giggle like it was the funniest thing in the world. The hand on your thigh began to inch upwards once more.

“Darling,” God, did that sound pretty rolling off the tip of his tongue, “any round two that we have will be somewhere with some nice booze and a bed, and maybe with soundproof walls depending on how loud I can get you.”

You were stronger than this, surely. Anything to protect Gotham and the people inhabiting it. You wouldn’t lose your nerve to a man with pretty words knelt before you.

“I can give you what you want, you know. Think of it like a trade; you give me the information I need, and I’ll have you screaming my name for all of Gotham to hear. Fair?”

As his touch began to grow more bold, warm hands slowly parting your thighs as he moved in between them, you knew you had to act fast. Resolve could only last so long, especially when coupled with a nighttime job known as being Robin — you were long overdue for something devious and a long nap.

Mustering up what little restraint remained, your foot raised to kick him back, momentarily leaving him a breathless heap of muscle and suave on the ground before you.

“You really don’t listen well.”

#rahhhh unedited bc it’s 5:30 am and i need to sleep #putting this in the queue so more people see it tho ig #idk man #i’m sleep deprived and delirious #also??? imagining big beefy jason in a catsuit had me feeling some type of way i cannot lie #dhsiwkdnfn anyways #. . . my fics 💌#. . . dc 💭#. . . jason todd 💭#. . . queue can’t afford me 🪻#jason todd x reader #jason todd #dc x reader

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malereadermaniac · 9 months ago

Text

Bully! ~ Yoichi x Male Reader

Idk what the public opinion on Camp Buddy is, but Yoichi is hot, and I wanna write abt him Also for the purpose of this fic Yoichi is like 4-5 inches taller than you - ever if your 6" like me 😭 word count: 1k amab m!reader (genitalia mentioned but no nsfw) / FDNI

You and Yoichi had a very straightforward relationship - bully and bullied

You were a timid kind-a guy - liked by many but no-one would stick their neck out for you

So you were what Yoichi would call "an easy target"

It was non-stop 24/7

Every time Yoichi saw you he would find some way to pick on you or tease you

His antics varied from small comments to threatening to beat the shit out of you

His actions never actually matching his words but he got the message across

You could see it in Yoichi's eyes that he couldn't bring himself to hit you for no reason

Once your eyes were graced with the scruffy purple locks and ragged body of the muscular man, your ears would be equally graced with snide comments

"God! You're so pathetic, (n/n)"

"Fucking hell you're so weak!"

And if you'd try to ignore the taller man, he would get personally offended

"Oh, what? So I'm not worth your time now, am I, (y/n)?"

Being the compassionate person that you are, you tried to understand why Yoichi was the way he was - he had a rough childhood and has practically no family

But fuck did it get harder and harder to understand that bully!

With the camp sports day coming up, tension was clearly building within your cabin

The main person creating the tension being Yoichi

So when the purple haired man shouted at you for the 5th time today for not being able to climb a ten foot fucking rope - you felt something in you snap

The man towered over you, shirtless from his own training - annoyance visible on his face

But for the first time since your little relationship had begun, you matched his expression

"Is climbing a rope that fucking hard, (n/n)?" Yoichi teases you, his tone oozing petty annoyance

"How 'bout you just shut the hell up, Wolf Boy!?"

You gagged him a little bit with that one

Yoichi had never seen you snap back at him, he was left speechless for long enough to allow you to hit him with more

"Just 'cause you're insecure about yourself doesn't mean you have to fucking harass me y'know?!" You shout, pushing your hands against the hunks muscular chest, pushing him backwards

"A-At least I-I ca-an use my muscles-"

"Wow! Can't even form a sentence now can you? Just fuck off you bonehead!" You keep shouting at the speechless man

Yoichi should be getting mad at you right now

He's supposed to be annoyed and be mouthing off back at you with a pissed off scowl on his face

But instead, the rugged man is... blushing???

Barely anyone snaps back at him when he teases them - especially not you!

Why was his heart beating faster by the second?

And why could Yoichi only focus on how your body was moving with anger and sass?

"What? Can't mouth off anymore, can ya?" You tease the wolf boy, crossing your arms across your chest and looking up into Yoichi's eyes with slight disgust

In the span of 2 seconds, it clicked in Yoichi's brain what was happening to him

So just like a wild animal, he acted on his instincts and feelings

"What can I say, (y/n)? I get speechless when I'm around ya~" the muscular man FLIRTS with you

"HUH?! W-What are you on about now?!" You stammer out, a blush rushing to your cheeks as you avert your eyes

Yoichi moves closer to you, so you move backwards out if nervousness

You two move closer and further from one another until your back hits the wall of the rope-climb - Yoichi cornering you

"Heh... I'd never noticed you were so cute, shortie" Yoichi teases, his arm resting on the wall above your head

"F-Fuck off!" You say as you keep blushing, gently pushing your hands against Yoichi's chests

'Fuck he's so buff...' you think to yourself as you push against his massive pecs

"Ha! Alright alright... I'll see ya 'round, shortie~" Yoichi flirts as he turns around, waving goodbye to you without giving you a single glance

'What the fuck just got into him? AND WHY AM I HARD?!' You think to yourself, almost hyperventilating from the mix of emotions and panic you were feeling

Which was justified, your longtime bully just randomly started flirting with you

Calling you 'shortie' and 'cute'! Who just randomly does that?!

And it didn't help that you shared a cabin with the muscular man

So when you saw him later that night, all he did was give you a smirk and a wink

WHAT THE FUCK

You just tried your best to ignore him, heading straight for the bathroom to change into your pj's

The rest of the guys could tell something was off, you'd usually chat to all of them before changing

And Yoichi was never this silent, he was clearly lost in thought - which was rare since Yoichi barely ever used his brain!

Randomly, Yoichi goes towards the bathroom - once again following his instincts to just see you and tease you

He barges in on you changing

You jolt up and freeze at the sound of the door banging open

Silence fills the room as Yoichi gets practically entranced by your ass - a blush sprouting on his face as he bares his teeth in a grin

You turn around slightly to see the taller man eyeing you down - your turn also revealing your soft dick

"Damn, shortie~ Giving me quite the show aren't ya?" Yoichi says with a teasing smile, eyeing up your body

You were speechless, but you could still force your muscles to throw whatever was in your hand at the rugged man

"You pervert!" You shout, the item of clothing in your hand landing directly on Yoichi's face

It just so happened that the item of clothing was your underwear....

The universe must have it out for you today.

The purple haired man grabs the worn boxers and bunches them up - making a comment about them being cute or funny then giving you a horny smirk

'So cute... they smell good too ya know'

'SHUT UP!' You shout, pushing the man put of the bathroom, your frame still fully naked

'Well I won't turn down some free material' Yoichi thinks to himself as he looks at your bunched underwear and chuckles as he remembers your reaction to him seeing you buttnaked

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msbigredmachine · 1 month ago

Text

New To This - Chapter 13

MASTERLIST

"Customer at table five!"

“Got it!” Shouting to be heard over the chaos in the kitchen, Delilah sat a tray of empty dishes on the kitchen window and grabbed the order pad from her apron. Tying up her huge mane of dark hair more securely, she weaved expertly towards table five without so much as glancing up. The lunch hour rush was in full swing, and there seemed to be more customers than ever today thanks to the exciting presence of several American Idol-branded trucks parked in front of the local rec center a block away from Sharon’s Steakhouse, her second place of work. An exhaustive round of singing made people hungry, Delilah surmised, and she was more than determined to pocket as many tips as possible before the day was over.

Stopping next to the table, she flipped her pad open and glanced down to fish the pencil out of her apron. "Welcome to Sharon’s Steakhouse, what can I get you?"

"You tell me, Miss. What's good?"

The deep, familiar voice reverberated within her chest, shocking her into locking eyes with its owner’s smiling face. Oh god. "What the hell are you doin' here?" she blurted out.

Looking over the menu, Josh smirked and met her eye again. "Well, this is a restaurant, and I'm hungry…" he started.

It had been one month since she walked out of his house. Roughly seven weeks since their tawdry affair started. Not that she was counting. She thought she’d made it clear that he should keep his distance by cutting off all communication with him, but it was equally clear that he hadn’t gotten the memo, or didn’t want to.

"You look good, girl," he spoke after holding her stare for a few long, tense seconds.

The blush crept up her neck as she forced herself to break eye contact. Yes, they had a passionate fling, and yes, she was sure that she had flushed Josh Fatu out of her system. She was over it, over him, and there was no need to revisit it. But here he was, in her life again. Showing up at her work unannounced. Invading her space. A part of her wanted him to leave. The other part wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms and show him just how much she missed him, but was well aware that half of the people in the diner were watching to see what would happen between little Delilah Parrish and her big-time wrestler friend.

“Well, our burgers are usually a hit among customers.” She avoided his compliment, determined to maintain the utmost professionalism. Although she was resigning from this job in a few weeks, she intended to leave on good terms. “You can’t go wrong with our smoked salmon either. Or you could try the filet mignon if you want something more fancy.”

Seeing that she wasn’t budging…for now, Josh nodded his head and forced his eyes to drift back over the menu. "Well then…Imma have the smokehouse burger, medium well, with chilli cheese fries," he requested.

Delilah jotted the order onto her pad and decided to play nice by adding an iced tea that he hadn't requested, but she knew he liked. "Comin' right up," she conjured up a smile that resembled a grimace instead, hurrying away from the table as quickly as she could. She had to get away, get out from under his scrutiny. Because as much as she wanted to believe that she could sweep their steamy tryst under the rug, seeing him again brought a throbbing to her body that she was better off ignoring.

Somehow she was able to go about her day as normal, a tougher task than usual given how she could feel his eyes on her the entire time. It was a relief when he finished his meal, and after he had signed a few autographs from some fans who recognized him, Delilah approached his table once again in typical courtesy to the customer. "Do you need anything else?" The wicked, iced-out grin he shot her sent chills up her spine. "From the menu, I mean," she quickly added.

Shaking his head easily, Josh fished out his wallet out of his pocket as she tore his bill from her pad and slid it over to him. "When do you get off work?" he asked.

"In an hour." Fuck! There her mouth went again, moving faster than her brain. However, despite swearing otherwise, she did want to talk to him, just like she knew he wanted to talk to her. But what could he possibly say that would change her mind about staying away, rightfully, from him?

He paid for his meal with his card and then pressed a fifty dollar bill into her hand. A generous tip. “A’ight. Meet me at the park when you’re done. We’re gonna talk, Dee, don’t run from me. I know where you live.”

Was that some kind of a threat? There was no time to think it through as he slid from his seat and stood beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Another shiver. “The food was excellent. My compliments to the chef,” he added.

With as nonchalant a shrug as she could muster, Delilah answered, stiffly, as she watched him walk out. “I’ll be sure to let him know.”

---------------

This is a bad idea, she muttered to herself for the hundredth time, seated anxiously on her motorcycle. As his trusty Escalade came into view, she wondered why she agreed to this and didn’t just go home. Her resolve continued to chip away as he stepped out of the truck. Man, he was so handsome.

Opening up the back of his truck tailgate style, he slid his big body inside before holding out his hand to her. She shook her head. “I…I think I’m fine right here,” she insisted, tapping her handlebar.

Josh cocked an eyebrow, slightly amused by her attempt at resistance. “You don’t trust me not to touch you?”

More like she couldn’t trust herself. She was already an apprehensive mess. She didn’t need to compound it with his hands on her.

Leaning forwards, Josh crooked his index finger. “Come here.”

Fuck.

Hating herself for folding so easily, she took his outstretched hand, letting him pull her inside the trunk. She put as much space between them to keep their bodies from touching and rolled her eyes upon catching the smirk on his face; he noticed. Nothing got past him.

“Been a minute, pretty girl. I’ve missed you,” he said.

Delilah’s stomach fluttered, partly because of his suggestive comment and partly from the absurdity of this situation. “Does your wife know you’re here?” she went straight to the point.

Josh sighed in defeat, rubbed his nose awkwardly. “In Pensacola? Yeah. She does.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that. Does your wife know you’re here with me?”

“No, she don’t,” he replied, his voice eerily steady, “She don’t need to know who I’m with cuz it’s no longer her business.” At her questioning look, he chuckled dryly. “I didn’t think this was something to just lay out over the phone. But I don’t got a wife no more. Tameka and I are getting a divorce. We signed the papers last week.”

Delilah blinked, unsure of how to react to this information. “So should I say congratulations, or I’m sorry? Help me out here.”

Ignoring her snarky comment, he answered, “It was long overdue. We were wrong to keep carrying on like we could salvage what was left of our marriage. Those photos you saw were of us hanging out one more time before we went our separate ways for good. It was…nice. Fun,” he admitted, a small smile gracing his bearded face, “But the romance was gone and we both knew it. We’re gonna be friends and co-parents now.” He exhaled heavily, staring out into the horizon. “She met someone else, by the way. A doctor or some shit, with kids of his own. A normal dude. I’m happy for her. She deserves it.”

He looked sad. Resigned to his fate. But as much as she felt bad for him, she couldn’t help but wonder when she entered the equation. Before or after he found out about his ex seeing another man. Did it make him feel less guilty about starting an affair with Delilah? It didn’t really matter now, did it? That chapter was closed. She was happy with her man. She had everything that she wanted, and she hoped that Josh could be happy for her, too.

Delilah allowed her disposition to soften just a little bit. “I’m sorry. Divorce can’t be fun, for anyone,” she empathized.

“It’s all good. I’ll get over it. As long as my kids are straight, I can handle anything, uce.”

"That's the spirit. And if all else fails, you at least got Rhea. I see y'all two hamming it up every week, everyone ships y'all like crazy," she pointed out.

Again, there was that cocky little smirk of his. "You jealous, bae?"

"Jealous? Ha, you wish," she retorted a little too quickly, clearing her throat and hoping she came off as convincing.

No such luck. "Riiiiight. So I'm in town for a couple of days. We could do something if you want," Josh informed her, adding with a sly wink, “Non-sexual of course. Totally platonic, I promise.”

"Sorry, but I have a date. With my fiancé," she told him, her grin faltering at the disappointment that clouded his eyes. "It’s horror movie night tonight," she added.

"Word? I ain't know you liked horror movies." Josh watched her carefully. There were so many things he didn't know about her. So many things that he wanted to know.

Delilah rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I don't," she confessed, "But Andre loves ‘em. And we've been trying to enjoy each other's worlds a little bit more."

"And how's that goin'?" he asked, a little more gruffly than was necessary. He wanted to be happy for her, he really did. He was supposed to be. He was supposed to want what was best for her, even if it wasn't him.

For a brief moment, Delilah could have sworn that he was unhappy that her engagement was still going strong. But he was her friend. In hindsight, he had offered her nothing more than that. There was no reason for him to be jealous. And there was no reason for her to care if he was jealous. "It's great!" she forced a smile, wanting more than anything to assure him that even after everything, he was still important to her and wanted him in her life.

He seemed to force a smile of his own as he jumped down from the truck. "Well, if you get bored, you welcome to come on over," he extended the invitation once more. "And if not…then I guess it was good to see you again."

How she wished that she wasn't blushing. How she wished that his presence wasn't affecting her, that every bone in her body wasn't screaming for his touch. "It was good to see you, too…Champ," she winked, following suit and getting on her motorbike. Deciding against hugging him for…reasons, she did her best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach from his intense gaze as she drove away from her ex-lover and home to Andre.

In one month, they would be in Orlando together. She would start her new life, pursue her dreams with the man that she was going to marry soon. She would forget about Josh Fatu eventually, at least in that way, and only regard him as a co-worker, a colleague. Because that was all they could ever be.

Just friends.

----------------------

Pulling up to her trailer, Delilah felt her heart sink. She had brought surf and turf meals from the steakhouse for herself and Andre, along with a case of Bud Light, his favorite. But somehow she didn't think that was going to feed the owners of the four cars that were parked alongside the house.

"Great," she muttered, cutting off the engine and climbing off of the bike. "Just fuckin' great."

It wasn't that she minded his friends being around - she knew that he was spending as much time as possible with them before the move. But this was supposed to be date night. They were supposed to be alone. She wanted to snuggle up with him on the couch and hide in his bicep from all the jump scares while he giggled at how cute she was with her little screams. She was not in the mood to share her fiancé. At all.

She was well aware that her mood was primarily due to Josh's surprise visit along with the bomb he'd dropped on her. The rest of her day was spent trying to get his heady scent out of her nostrils. She struggled to get the smolder of his sexy eyes out of her mind. The deep, rough rumbling of his voice that she loved so much wouldn't clear out of her ears. And now she had Andre's dumbass friends to contend with.

The celebration was in full swing when she opened the front door, though she had been able to hear them cheering from outside. The smell of pizza assaulted her as she kicked the door closed and nearly drop the pack of beer on the ground.

"Oh, come on, tough wrestler girl," one of his friends, Jaleel, she recalled, taunted, as they all turned to ogle her. "Can't lift a case of beer, huh?"

Setting the case on the table, she ignored him and opened the refrigerator to deposit the dinners she had brought home. She then stalked off to her bedroom, slamming the door hard for effect and regretted it instantly as a headache started to form. Andre stumbled in just moments later, a dopey grin on his face that indicated he'd already had a couple of beers.

Irritated, Delilah sank to the bed, kicking her sneakers off and rubbing the soles of her feet. "Andre, what the fuck? I thought it was just us tonight."

With a shrug, Andre lowered his lean frame to the bed beside her. "That was before." He bit his bottom lip, as though that would help him contain whatever news was bursting inside of him. "I got some awesome news, babe," he said, grabbing her hand. "Ask me what I did today."

"You better say that you worked your ass off, the cable bill's due," she cut in with an attitude. "We need to make sure we're up to date before we leave for good," she reminded him.

Andre merely clapped his hands. "So...I went to the American Idol auditions this afternoon."

"You did what?" she asked, confused by this piece of information. He had never so much as mentioned knowing about any audition - she herself had only just seen the branded trucks for the first time today. Yeah, he had a beautiful voice that he displayed in church every Sunday, but there was never any talk of anything beyond that. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Andre stood and pulled her close. "Jaleel and Ralph told me about it and insisted that I go. So I figured why not? And I went for it. I sang for the judges."

Her mouth was agape. She could tell from his expression that he really expected her to be proud of him. "Why the fuck would you do that?" she demanded, growing more annoyed with his games. Because this was clearly what this was to him. "Andre, that is the dumbest shit I have ever heard."

But Andre wasn't done. The bomb he was about to drop was twice the size of Josh's. "I got called back, Dee. I'm going to Hollywood!" he announced, reaching into his pocket and brandishing the infamous Golden Ticket she'd seen numerous times on the program. Rolling his eyes, he assumed a defensive stance. "Why aren't you happy for me? Do you understand how big a deal that is? Or you just don't wanna see me achieve my dream?"

Delilah Parrish had done a lot of dumb shit in her life. In the wrestling ring and out, she had done more than her fair share of embarrassing things. But nobody and nothing had ever made her feel this much like a fool. Whatever transgression she had accused Josh of paled in comparison to this because it was coming from the person closest to her.

Andre had played along. He had convinced her that they could make it work. But the first chance he had to stick it to her, he had taken it. Even worse, the auditions had taken place near her workplace. This meant that he had been in her vicinity. He'd had the opportunity to come to her and disclose this asinine plan of his to her, and he chose not to.

"You motherfucker," she hissed, her rage boiling over. She'd had enough. Standing, she snatched the 'Golden Ticket' out of his hand and launched it across the room. "You selfish fucking asshole! I'm not a fucking idiot, Andre, I know what this is!" she shouted. "This ain't your dream! This is your revenge!"

"The fuck you talkin' about?" Andre bristled, glaring at his fiancée. "Revenge? Selfish? I went for something that I've always wanted to do, and I might be good enough to do it. Ain't that what you doin'? Why is it okay for you, but not for me?"

"Tell me Andre, when the fuck have you ever mentioned you wanted to be a professional singer? When? This is news to me, your fucking fiancée!" Incensed, she allowed all the emotions of the day to fuel her as she yelled at him. "You are unbelievable! We're supposed to be going to Orlando next month. Next month!" Grabbing a hooded sweatshirt from the floor, she yanked it over her shoulders and zipped it up the front. "That's a snake move, Dre. Shady ass shit! You're doing this to hurt me, not because you want it!"

His friends pretended to be focused on the TV when she burst out of the room, but Delilah couldn't give a flying fuck about their enabling, goofy asses. She just wanted to get away from the man who, in her eyes, had betrayed her in the most heartbreaking way possible.

"Not everything is about you, Delilah!" Andre yelled back, following her out the door as she grabbed the keys to her bike. "Where the fuck are you going?" He stood frozen, cringing at the look she leveled him with as she mounted her bike, so venomous it should have killed him on the spot.

"Fuck you," she spat. Kicking her bike into gear, she peeled out of the driveway and down the road, leaving his cowardly ass standing there.

Though Delilah prided herself on being a pretty mellow person, this was the first time she'd ever been pushed to her limit like this. She had never been so mad in her entire life. The dutiful spouse in her chastised her for being so harsh and tried to over-analyze and make excuses. Maybe Andre had gone to that audition on a whim. But she seriously doubted it. He knew exactly what he was doing. He deceived her, and that was unforgivable.

When she arrived at her destination, she knocked so hard on the door she thought her knuckles would fall off. The door had barely cracked open when she barged in, grabbed him by the shirt, and with superhuman strength, pushed him up against the door.

"The fuck?" Josh gasped, barely getting the words out before she crushed her lips to his, her tongue in his mouth. Taken aback, he'd only recovered for a split second before she pounced again, her hand snaking down the front of his shorts. "I...shit...I thought you had a date...with your man," he stammered, shocked by her forwardness.

Letting out a cynical scoff, she sank down to her knees and pulled out his dick. "Man? What man?"

---------------

Whew!

Thoughts?

Please leave comments! I love comments! 😁

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

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#jey uso #wwe #main event jey uso #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso fanfic #jey uso imagines #jey uso imagine #jey uso smut #new to this

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tateypots · 2 months ago

Text

To Keep You Safe

18+ only, minors DNI

Summary: Joel returns home weak and exhausted after a strenuous patrol, you are anxiety ridden waiting for his return, you comfort each other the way only you can.

A/N: Written for @justagalwhowrites Joel Miller Birthday Celebration. I picked Jackson Joel and the theme is hurt/comfort.

2.6K words

Warnings: Joel Miller x reader, established relationship, smut, cock warming, unprotected piv, joint showering, dirty talk, slight daddy kink (one mention). No violence but allusions to minor injuries, past and present.

‘They’ve spotted horses from the wall!’ Ellie all but screamed at you through the open door of the greenhouse before turning on her heel and sprinting towards the gates. The plant you had been repotting slipped from your hands, compost spilling over the ground as you followed suit, running after her as fast as your legs could carry you, simultaneously trying not to get your hopes up and contain the rising panic that had threatened to engulf you for the last few days. It had to be them. Please, please let it be them…

A small crowd was already forming at the gates by the time you arrived, Hank and Mike trying to corral everyone back away from the two rugged figures on horseback making their entrance into Jackson. The relief that flooded you when you saw it was indeed them nearly had your legs giving way. Hank spotted the pair of you running like mad women and moved to block your path. He dove for Ellie and grabbed hold of her. Taking advantage of his distraction you dodged easily, grinning at her yells of “let go of me asshole!” as you careened full pelt into Joel just as he completed his dismount. He let out a strangled grunt but didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you in a vice like grip. From behind you, you heard scuffling and a strained “we need to check em for bites,” followed by a yelp in pain and a few seconds later you felt the impact of Ellie throwing herself into Joel’s torso. One of his arms released you, grabbing her to hold her tight to him as well. Leaving your arms around his neck and head pressed into his chest you angled your lower body away from his torso allowing Ellie to snake an arm round his midriff before you settled back against the both of them. He let out a contented sigh, both his girls safe in his arms.

You lifted your head peer over Joel’s shoulder, seeing Tommy and Maria locked in a similar embrace. As they broke apart Tommy looked over at you and you reached an arm out to him, he grabbed your hand in his and held tightly. He looked awful. Covered in filth and blood and radiating exhaustion. You released his hand and pushed back slightly from Joel to see he was in a similar state. They’d set out on a routine patrol and radioed back a few hours in that they had spotted two men and they were going to check them out to make sure they weren’t a threat. That had been the last you’d heard from them for a week.

You were desperate to know what had happened but recognised now wasn’t the time. “I sure am glad to see your faces but you assholes scared the fucking shit out of us. You get a pass for today but tomorrow you are both in serious trouble.” Joel huffed out a laugh at you as he pulled you back in to place a kiss to your forehead as Ellie released him from her death grip and moved over to place Tommy into it instead.

“Guys you know the procedure, we got to check em for bites,” you heard Hank behind you.

“Don’t worry Hank, I’m gona get Joel naked as soon as he’s in the house, I promise I’ll report back,” you promised him with a wink as Ellie muttered, “gross!”

Hank started sputtering like his brain was misfiring as a deep red blush crept over his face.

“It’s fine Hank, do you really think that Tommy or Joel would come back in here if there was any chance they’d been infected?” Maria finally stepped in, rescuing him from his embarrassed floundering. “We’ll check them ourselves just to be sure but there’s no way either of them would put anyone here at risk and you know it.” Reluctantly Hank relented and started barking out orders for the horses to be taken to the stables as Mike finally managed to convince the crowd of onlookers to return about their business, recognising your need for privacy. You flashed him a grateful smile as you started the slow walk back to town, both men too exhausted for their usual brisk pace.

Tommy and Maria separated off to head home after another quick round of hugs, leaving you, Joel and Ellie to continue on in comfortable silence, Joel sandwiched between you and the smaller girl as you both clung onto him like you were scared he would disappear if you weren’t touching him. As you reached the front door Ellie excused herself after another fierce hug, promising to return later with dinner from the mess hall, your threat of getting Joel naked clearly sticking in her mind.

You opened the door and headed into the entryway, Joel hot on your heels closing the front door behind him. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” you asked as Joel moved towards the inner doorway. “Erm, I’m going inside my damn house.”

“Not like that you’re not, you’re not dragging all that filth through our damn house, especially not after I’ve spent the last week obsessively cleaning it to keep my panic at bay. Besides. I promised Hank I’d get you naked as soon as I got you home and I don’t break my promises.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes but didn’t complain as you removed his jacket and started to undo the buttons of his ruined flannel. You were almost finished before he noticed the tremor in your hands, as you pushed the shirt off his shoulders he glanced down and caught a glimpse of your watery eyes. Now free of his shirt he pulled you roughly to his chest, the touch of his bare skin breaking the dam as sobs racked your body and tears streaked down your face. He held you tight, shushing and soothing you, running a large palm up and down your spine and pressing kisses into your hair. “I’m so, so sorry baby, had to do it, had to keep you safe.”

You felt so pathetic, blubbering like an idiot, it should be you comforting Joel after he’d been through who knows what out there but now that the tears had started you were struggling to contain them. “I love you so fucking much Joel,” you gasped between sobs, “I didn’t say it that morning, I should have told you. I was so fucking scared I’d never get to tell you again.”

“Shh shh shh, its ok baby, I know. Don’ need for you to say it for me to know, I feel it. You’re mine and I’m yours and that’s the way it is. Love you so much darlin’, thought about nothin’ but getting home to you since the second I rode out the gates.” You clung to him for a few more minutes, allowing the heat of his body, the steady beat of his heart and his reassuring words to calm you and clear your head slightly, allowing you to regain control of your breathing. You reached up on your tip toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. You tipped your head back to look up at him and his dipped to rest his forehead against yours, bringing his hands up to cradle your face and wipe your tears with his thumbs.

“Love you.”

“Love you too baby. Now, whaddya say you finish getting me naked, would hate to have to tell Hank that you’re a liar.” He smirked down at you while you chuckled, bringing your hands down to undo his belt buckle as he kicked off his boots without bothering to untie the laces. Undoing the button on his jeans and pulling down the zipper sent a pang of arousal through you, the mere thought of Joel naked in front you enough to have you buzzing with excitement. Even in his current filthy, dishevelled state and smelling more than a bit ripe you still thought Joel was the sexiest man in the world. So big and broad and so handsome it almost hurt. Hooking your fingers inside the hem of his jeans and boxers you pulled them down together to his ankles, crouching down to help pull them over his feet. Unfortunately your crouched position left you in direct eye line of his crotch. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of his beautiful cock. It never failed to impress you, long and girthy and so fucking perfect. Already half hard you saw it twitch at your proximity. You glanced up at him from the floor and the sight of his gorgeous brown eyes boring into yours, pupils blown wide with lust had a gush of wetness spilling into your panties, your pussy aching to be filled. After a week apart your need for him was almost at a catastrophic level. You’d cum as soon as he touched you at this rate.

He reached down and grabbed your arms, pulling you to your feet and out of your reverie. A small amount of sense returning to you now that your face wasn’t inches from his penis, you grabbed his hand and turned towards the inner door, determined to get him clean. His free hand grabbed you round your middle, settling splayed on your stomach and pulled you towards him, your back pressed tightly to his chest. “No way missy, you’re all dirty, got you covered in all this filth. Looks like Daddy ain’t the only one in need of a strip down and a wash.” A quick glance down at yourself revealed he was right, your clothes and skin now soiled with the grime that was coating Joel. From his position behind you he got to work, swiftly removing your shirt and bra, the groan he released as your breasts slipped free reverberated through your entire body. Unable to stop himself his hands grabbed hold of them, squeezing and massaging before moving to tweak at your nipples. “Fuck, missed these tits baby, never get tired of the feel of them.” His lips connected with your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses down towards your shoulders as his hands continued kneading your tits.

“Joel…shower. Now. Please.” You’d never know where you got the strength to utter those words, you had more than half a mind to let him fuck you right here in the entryway, hygiene be damned. He growled behind you but released your breasts to undo your pants and pull them off you, taking your panties and shoes with them. Now free from the confines of your soiled clothes, you pulled him behind you up the stairs to the bathroom and into the shower.

Under the water, the exhaustion hit Joel full force, the surge of adrenaline that had pumped through him the minute he got you alone had waned leaving him weak and sluggish. He slumped against the wall to keep himself upright as you swallowed the lump in your throat at seeing him like this. Trying hard to wipe the worry from your features you set about running your soaped up hands over his body, washing away layer upon layer of grime. He somehow managed to keep a hand on you at all times, tired and vulnerable though he was, he was still Joel and he could never resist the call of your naked body, the feel of your soft skin under his calloused hands. His large hand started rested lightly on your hip while you dutifully cleaned his top half, reaching down to cup your cheek when you ducked to clean his legs and groin, your gentle ministrations awakening his cock again. As you moved behind him he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together, leaving you to clean his back half and shampoo his hair one handed. You took note of every new scratch, cut and bruise, gently pressing your lips to each one, a long established ritual between the two of you each time one or the other returned from patrol. A gentle welcome home to contrast the harsh realities of being outside the safety of Jackson’s walls.

With Joel now clean you hastily washed yourself. It was a measure of Joel’s current energy levels that he did not immediately swat your hands away and take over the task himself, contenting himself with returning his hand to your hip and admiring your soapy body until you were done. Leading him carefully out of the shower you did your best to dry you both off before heading to the bedroom. “Are you hungry, I can go and make you something?”

“Just need to sleep, will you stay with me baby?”

“You really need to ask? Gona be stuck to you like glue for the foreseeable, you’re gona be sick to death of me.”

“No chance of that pretty girl, sounds like heaven to me.”

“Ha, I’ll remind you of that next time you try to take a piss in peace.”

“Ok well don’ be getting mad at me for getting piss all over the place cos your presence got my dick pointing at the ceiling.” You snickered at him and playfully swatted at his chest.

You clambered into the bed, pulling Joel in behind you and pulling the covers up over you both. He looped his arm over your waist, pulling you in tightly, your back flush with his chest. The feel of his erection pressed into your thigh, flooded you with arousal and you could feel yourself dripping for him, a feeling which intensified as you felt his big hand glide down your torso from your waist to your thigh, lifting it and hooking it over his leg.

“Joel,” you moaned, “you need to sleep.”

“I know baby, but I need to feel her, please, can I? Please?”

Your resolve crumbled quickly in the face of his pleading. “Ok baby, whatever you need.” At this point you’d give him anything he asked for. Not that you could typically bring yourself to deny him anything. Especially when you could feel your pussy throbbing in time with your heartbeat. You needed to feel him as much as he needed to feel you. You needed the comfort only he could offer.

Gripping his cock in his hand he ran the head gently through your folds before notching at your entrance and easing himself in slowly, deeper and deeper, bottoming out with a satisfied sigh. Your breathing and heartrate spiked at the stretch as you welcomed him into your body with a gentle moan. No matter how many times he fucked you, the initial breach was always slightly overwhelming, in the best possible way.

Joel pulled you back in tighter to him, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Perfect. She’s always so prefect for me, so warm and wet and tight,” he mumbled into your skin, moving his hand down between your legs to rub lazy circles on your clit as his cock nestled comfortably inside you, unmoving and leaving you feeling desperately full. As predicted after your time apart, within a minute you felt your orgasm hit you full force and wave after wave of pleasure ripped through you as you moaned and gasped in unison, your pussy clenching tight on Joel’s static cock.

He continued his gentle circling of your clit with practiced precision until the aftershocks waned. He released your leg from over the top of his and snuggled into you as sleep claimed you both, his hard cock sheathed to the hilt within you.

#joel miller #joel miller birthday celebration #established relationship

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pomplalamoose · 1 year ago

Text

two possibilities

Sith!Luke Skywalker x fem!reader

summary: this evening Lord Skywalker has something very specific in mind

cw: nsfw, smut, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, power imbalance, unhealthy relationship, manhandling minors dni!!!

A/N: this is my first time ever writing smut and I'm so nervous about posting it, please be kind, I'm really doing my best :(

His heavy steps make you jolt awake in an instant.

From where you were dozing on the soft rug in front of his bed you have yet to spot Lord Skywalker but are able to hear him well, your senses attuned to every sound of his, no matter how small it may be.

Your breath catches in your throat and, not daring to release it, you listen closely to his movements; occasionally you're lucky and they tell you something about his mood before he can catch you off guard.

What is he doing?

Curiously craning your neck you try to get a glimpse of him next door but all you can see is his dark cape being thrown from one side of the room to the other where it lands with a heavy thud.

Immediately two very different possibilities flash before your inner eye; he's either furious or horny.

Your brain screams at you to get up, get up, get up, get up and you just barely manage to untangle your sleepy limbs from the fuzzy blanket when he rounds the corner, his hungry eyes searching for you.

Oh. It's clear what it's going to be tonight.

You sink back in relief.

"Wel-Welcome back, my L-"

He doesn't even let you finish before easily picking you up and throwing you upon his bed, his burning gaze not once leaving your blushing face as he frees his hard and already leaking cock.

He's on you in an instant, covering your mouth with his, unceremoniously shoving his tongue past your lips.

With a sigh he begins rutting his hips against your still clothed pussy, deepening the kiss when you shyly start to reciprocate his movements.

"Oh, little one, I have been thinking about this all day.", he tells you, before dragging you into another scorching kiss.

Only when you begin to struggle, desperate to come up for air, does he manage to rein himself back in and releases you with a wet sucking sound that echoes around the room.

Looking you over attentively, his hot breath fans across your face when he speaks.

"Have you been waiting here for me? Mmh?"

Wide eyed you nod; you did wait for him, just the way you know he likes it.

One of his hands teasingly snakes in between your legs and he gives a hum of satisfaction when he finds your panties slightly damp with arousal.

"Such a good girl, you'll make me feel so good tonight, I know it."

His voice is rough with lust as he reinforces his words by once again thrusting his hips forward, moaning loudly at the sensation.

"You want it too, don't you? To let me cum inside of you as many times as I want to? To make me feel good?"

"Yes.", you blabber dumbly, eager to please him. "I want to- I wanna make you cum. Please cum inside of m-me."

"You do, huh?"

Feigning intimacy he smiles and leans close to whisper in your ear.

"It's not like you have a choice, sweetheart."

He draws back and impatiently pats your hip, signaling something you, through your excited haze, don't understand.

You do your best to rearrange your limbs, dazedly making a move to undress yourself but when you lift your arms to pull up your top, he stops you with a sigh.

Faster than you can think he scoops an arm underneath your back and easily manhandles you into position on all fours before him.

You are confused, does he not want you naked?

You try again, which earns you a stinging slap to your right ass cheek and a sharp reprimand.

"Behave."

You still immediately as your world narrows down to him and his touch alone.

Lord Skywalker gently moves the crotch of your underwear aside to press a finger inside of you.

"You know the rules, little one. Hold still, don't talk, and I'll make this pleasurable for you as well."

Every bit of air is pushed out of your chest, your mouth falling open as you try to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

You didn't think you were wet enough to take all of it yet but your body gives way easily as he slowly shifts his finger around to stroke your walls, before gently withdrawing and pumping back in repeatedly.

Each little movement makes you jump and by the time he's inserting a second digit, his spare arm has to reach beneath your chest to keep you upright.

His fingers are so very big and long, so skilled, and it does not take long for you to moan out around them helplessly.

As he allows you to grind back into them, you feel as if already you could fall apart right here and now.

Desperately you want to beg, for him to go deeper, faster, anything, but you know better than that and wisely keep your mouth shut.

To antagonize him now, to egg him on, would only result in punishment and suffering.

Instead you place your trust in his own lust and impatience to keep him from playing with you for too long and are proven right not long after.

The mattress dips under his weight as he shifts positions, and you can feel the much larger head of his cock nudging the entrance in between your wet folds.

With your heart racing you try to spread your legs even wider.

His hands roughly kneed your ass cheeks, pulling them far apart to get a good long look at your dripping core, before sliding forward to grip your waist, pulling you closer towards him.

Anxious to give him better access and to make it easier for your body as well, you arch your back as far as it will go and steady yourself as he lines himself up, as he presses forward antagonizingly slowly.

With gritted teeth you endure the burning slide until the tip finally pops in and you gasp, your Lord releasing a low moan above you.

As always his size overwhelmes you.

Despite the regularity in which he claims you it's nearly too much.

Involuntarily you clench down hard around his cock, and breathe a sigh of relief when it makes him release a quick hiss of pleasure.

Yet you beg your body to relax again; your Lord is far away from being fully sheathed inside of you and he can and will take more, not always caring whether you are ready to as well.

This time though, surprisingly, he stops the penetration just short of it becoming too much for you to handle and instead begins to lazily push in and out, giving you the chance to adjust.

You are whimpering helplessly by the time he's fully seated, completely impaled and trembling as your walls flex almost violently around the thick intrusion.

You can’t seem to catch your breath, a slight sheen of sweat already covering your entire body.

Slowly the Sith is stilling his movements and reaches forward to soothingly stroke your hair and rub your back.

It's a gesture of good will.

An acknowledgement of your weaker form.

You try to speak, to let him know you recognize it as what it is, to let him know how thankful you are.

"Th-tha... thank y..." but instead you break off in a languid cry, hanging your head, when he quickly drapes himself over you to bite at your neck in warning.

"No. Speaking.", he murmurs lowly before straightening up again.

Contemplatively he draws out his throbbing cock before slowly pushing it back in, not hard but enough to make you grapple for something to hold on to.

The next thrust is much the same: powerful but subdued.

The third hits a spot that wrenches a loud cry of sheer pleasure out of you.

Your Lord hits it again and again, and now you are being tossed forward with it, giddily taking each thrust you are given as the rhythm grows quick and even.

Eliciting a steady burst of ecstasy up your spine that leaves you far more vocal than you are comfortable with, you are wracked with tremors and slowly but surely grow dizzy with it.

He slows down after a while, taking his time to carefully readjust your position and the strong hold he has on your waist.

At first, not understanding what's happening you fear he's going to stop altogether.

Are you not satisfactory?

You won't be able to bear it if he leaves you like this, gaping and aching for more.

"Pl- please...", you choke out, in your desparation forgetting about his warning from earlier.

"Pleaseee..."

His response is a mocking laugh and the next thrust is so hard it makes you choke and nearly topple over.

"Is that want you want? Huh?"

The next follows immediately after, just as fast and just as hard.

Unbelievably the pace quickens, and suddenly you are being fucked at a relentless rhythm with brutal strength; too fast for you to even cry out with with each time he slams into you, you turn into one long litany of noises.

Again you feel him draping himself over your body, covering you whole, his heavy weight pressing you into the mattress.

You are so, so wet, sure you are dripping and leaking against his pants and all over the sheets, whining for it, tears prickling the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

His strength is staggering, his skill merciless and despite everything you have experienced so far there is nothing to compare it to.

Each thrust is perfectly angled to overstimulate with how his hips are jerking forward and his large hands tightly clasping your body, leaving bruises in their wake wherever they go.

Your skin feels hot and feverish, your body bristling with heat.

You couldn't escape if you wanted to, couldn’t even think of it.

The loud slapping sounds almost drown out your pleas and the blood pounding in your ears.

Lord Skywalker seems to have no expiration, he never so much as slows, and you wonder if he could do this endlessly.

You know, however, that you can’t.

You are weak, already close to passing out, and finally you let your tears flow freely, fully submitting to his will.

He hears your sobs and his left arm tightens around your waist to hoist you up against his chest, holding you close.

His free hand slips into the front of your panties and cups your heat closely, before he starts methodically rubbing your clit to the beat of his fucking.

Your trembling doubles, and barely a few thrusts later you shriek your release, your muscles and stomach clenching.

Your vision blurs as your eyes roll back into your head, your mind seemingly leaving your body behind.

The Sith doesn't stop his movements, simply fucking you through your orgasm until after another minute there come several audible grunts and you can feel the rush of hot liquid filling you up.

Lord Skywalker pounds that out too, then slows, stills, and finally, lets go of you.

You collaps onto your front instantly.

His big cock slides free and you hit the mattress panting for air, everything around you spinning.

In slow trickles his cum is leaking out of you but you're too tired to move away from the big stain your combined bodily fluids created and, as it turns out, you don't get a chance to either, as suddenly you are grabbed by your ankles and easily flipped around to lay on your back.

Through eyes heavy lidded and dark with lust your Lord drinks in your helpless picture, already and, unbelievably so, fully erect again with excess cum still dripping from the tip of his cock.

Blinking up at him you can't do anything but watch as he lazily palms his erection and then begins to touch himself in earnest to the sight of you.

He's allowing you another break, altough you realize how short it will be by how roughly he's handling himself and by the way his breath is very quickly growing ragged again.

"Oh fuck..."

A low groan escapes his mouth and his free hand reaches out to part your knees so he can settle in between your legs.

You can't tear your gaze away from the way his head falls back in the throws of his pleasure, from how he licks and bites his lip in anticipation for what is to come so soon...so very soon...

Somehow his explosive orgasm still manages to catch you off guard as the thick ropes of his cum spurt all over your swollen pussy.

Propping himself up over your body with one arm he milks himself dry, painting your belly and part of your tits with what is left of his hot release, before slowly sinking back on his heels to come down from his high.

His pants are utterly ruined and once he has caught his breath he gets up to rid himself of them and the rest of his clothes.

Humming in contentment he pours himself a drink and settles back down on the bed.

You quiver under his intense gaze but don't dare to move while his eyes wander from your tear stained face to your heaving breasts and then further down until they stop at the mess he created in between your legs.

His cock twitches.

It will take a while before you are allowed to rest.

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x you #luke skywalker smut #sith luke #sith luke skywalker #luke star wars #dark luke #dark luke skywalker #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars a new hope #star wars empire strikes back #star wars return of the jedi

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loquaciousferret · 2 years ago

Text

Country Lovin’

Summary: Pre-outbreak AU, you let yourself get picked up by a handsome stranger after your set playing at a local country bar. After giving you the night of your life, Joel Miller might just be your new muse.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Content Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, alcohol consumption, drink driving. sex whilst intoxicated, use of pet names, unspecified age gap, unprotected sex. As always- maybe more! Read at own risk

A/N: I’m on a roll with Joel content at the minute, I don’t know why this specific scenario came to mind, but reader is a country singer performing at a bar where tommy and joel are drinking and joel flirts his way into bed with you… ahh! It’s also definitely the type of story I could see myself writing a part 2 for…! Enjoy…

P.S. count the Taylor Swift references throughout haha.

You finished your set to a healthy round of applause and a few cheers and whoops from the more intoxicated patrons of the bar. It wasn’t your first time playing in this particular bar, but it was your first time being invited to play a Saturday, and the feeling of playing to such a packed venue was incredible.

You lifted your guitar from your neck by the strap and placed it carefully in it’s case at the side of the small stage, before making your way over to the bar. As you stood there waiting to catch a bartenders attention and order something, you noticed a presence hovering close to your left side. You turned to face it and found yourself looking up into the eyes of a man, a handsome man. One who you had noticed had made eye contact with you numerous times throughout your set, whilst he had been throwing back glasses of scotch with another guy at a table close to the front of the stage.

“I’d hate to be the guy you wrote that last one about.” He smirked. “Sounds like he really fucked it up.”

You smiled, it wasn’t a compliment so you didn’t know what to say in return. Thanks wasn’t the right word. “Uh, yeah, um..” You mumbled, unable to find a suitable response.

“You’re incredible.” He said. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Oh… Uh.” You blushed, so he had been flirting with his opening line?

“What’s your poison?” He asked, persistent.

“Something fruity.” You said back, which made him roll his eyes.

“Of course.” He remarked, but there was no hint of anything mean behind his words.

He attracted the barkeeps attention faster than you had, “Another scotch,” he pointed at his own glass. “And something fruity for the lady.”

You were distracted, your attention drifting around the bar. It was busy tonight with a crowd of all ages, a few groups of young people roughly your age, the majority middle-aged like the man you stood with, and some even older than that, some real old school guys. Similar to most country bars you would play at, but this one was special, one of the busiest in the city and the previous stomping ground of a number of major stars. Lots of people told you it was a stupid dream, but it was one you were holding onto well into your twenties whilst you finished college.

You realised you might be coming across as rude to the man who had bought you the drink you were waiting for, so you returned your attention to him, and found his gaze had never left you, he was staring down at you intently. You took in his features, a strong brow-bone, nose and sharp jaw. Dark brown messy hair with eyes to match, stubble and a defined moustache to top it off. Handsome in a rugged, properly Southern way.

“I haven’t seen you around.” He says. “I’m Joel.”

“It ain’t my first time, but it’s for sure my busiest night so far.” You said.

“You’re really incredible.” He said, repeating his words from before. Something about his eyes told you that he was genuine in his compliments, and that they weren’t just an attempt at flattery. But you sensed he was working that angle too.

You considered him carefully, and the sight from his perspective of you gazing up at him innocently through thick lashes, plump lips slightly parted, was enough to turn him on.

The bartender interrupted your intense staring contest, sliding you a drink that was a startling shade of crimson, with sugar round the rim, and for him, a rich amber liquid over rocks of ice.

“Cheers,” You offered, holding your glass out to him, and he returned the gesture, clinking the edges of the glasses. Some of the sugar from the edge of your glass transferred onto the rim of his scotch, offending his taste buds when he brought it to his lips, shuddering dramatically.

You giggled at his display and savoured the sweetness as you took your first sip.

“What you need drinks like that for anyway, darlin’? You’re already sweet enough to give some of us guys toothache.”

You rolled your eyes but gave him a laugh. These practiced lines must serve him well with most women in these establishments, and his gorgeous chocolate brown puppy dog eyes that hold your gaze as he delivers them certainly didn’t hurt either.

You found that the conversation flowed easily with Joel. He had the southern gentleman act perfected to a point, flirtation innocent enough to be plausibly deniable but certainly noticeable if you chose to lean into it. And you did find yourself doing so, loosening up with cocktail after cocktail, him knocking back scotches at an equally dizzying pace.

You weren’t sure how long you had been engrossed in his company when eventually you recognised the man he had been with earlier, approaching him from behind and putting a hand on Joel’s shoulder.

“Is that it, have I been subbed out as tonight’s company, Joel?” His cheeky tone suggested to you that Joel made a habit of this.

“Tommy,” Joel put an arm round him. He was a good few inches taller than the other man, Tommy, but they shared facial similarities, the same moustache, and dress sense. “Let me introduce you to my good friend here,” he said, turning to you.

Tommy grasped one of your hands in both of his, shaking it politely. “Pleasure to meet you, how do you do?” He shared Joel’s cheeky grin. “Helluva show you put on tonight.” He praised.

“You’re too kind.” You waved a hand bashfully. Most people assume that performers thrive on attention and praise but you have never quite gotten used to accepting the compliments that came your way during and after your shows, constantly a blushing mess whenever people congratulated you and fussed over how well you did.

“Make sure my brother takes care of you, alright? I’m gonna hit the road.” He said, offering you a wink before turning round to shake Joel’s hand. “I’ll catch you in the morning, buddy.”

A gesture of his head, indicating over his shoulder to a beautiful blonde who was stood a few metres away, twirling her curls between her fingers and watching Tommy with a smile on her face and a set of “Fuck-me” eyes if you had ever seen them. You laughed a little as you watched the brothers exchange a look. Joel’s eyebrows seemed to say well done.

You could tell he was a womaniser, a trait him and his brother clearly shared, and they didn’t mean to conceal it in any way, either. But as he had pointed out so astutely in his opening line, the heartbreak that was the inspiration behind your latest tracks had done quite a number on you, and so whilst it wasn’t in your usual nature… you were considering taking a risk on this devilishly handsome stranger tonight.

You laughed at his jokes and fluttered your eyelashes, more for your own fun as you knew he was already sold on you. But he was trying hard to chat you up and you had to give something in return to let him know he was getting somewhere.

You both kept up the pretence of waiting until it was polite to move closer together, for you to tease a light touch on his bicep and him on your upper thigh in return. His flirtations became more overt and eventually he was whispering them directly into your ear, his hot breath tickling you, his hands playing with your hair and pushing it back behind your shoulders to get a better view of your face.

He timed it perfectly right when you finished your 5th (or was it 6th?) drink, asking, “You got anyone waitin’ up for you at home?”

“No, Sir.” You blushed, happy with the subtext to his question.

“What do ya say you come home with me for a nightcap then, sweetness? Hm?” He brushed your cheek with his thumb and it took concentration to stay upright on your barstool and not melt into a puddle under his touch.

“Y-Yeah.” You stuttered, taking a deep breath as nerves hit despite having known all along the night was leading up to this point.

“I’m just a few blocks away, won’t take us long, beautiful.”

As you stepped out of the still crowded bar into the night air, you felt the alcohol dizzying you more. You stumbled slightly and Joel’s strong arms found their way around your waist, steadying you but then remaining there longer than necessary to guide you down the street, holding you close to his side.

You found yourself giggling at his jokes like a love-struck schoolgirl, constantly bashful under the compliments and affections that rolled off his tongue so naturally. He was certainly a charmer, there was no doubt about that.

After walking about a block, a small breeze hit and you found yourself shivering. He jumped back from you quickly to remove his jacket and drape it over your shoulders before slinging an arm around you again.

“I’m sorry beautiful, forgot to do that sooner.”

“Joel, you certainly have this gentleman act practiced to perfection don’t you now?” You teased.

“It ain’t an act,” He chuckled. “I am a proper southern gentleman.”

“A proper gentleman would never invite a lady home the night they meet.” You joked back.

“And a proper lady wouldn’t say yes.” He raised an eyebrow at you.

You gasped, pretending to be offended before shooting back. “I never claimed to be a proper lady, Joel. Don’t feel the need to treat me like one once you get me home.”

His smirk grew to a full on grin, he seemed pleasantly surprised at the confidence with which you delivered this remark. You had surprised yourself, too. Those drinks were stronger than you thought. Or maybe you were just drunk on him.

Before long you he was leading you up to a nice home, with a perfectly laid path, a well-tended lawn, and a sturdy wrap-around porch. You should have known, Joel was no boy leading you back to a crumby apartment, he was all man.

He fumbled with the keys in the darkness and got the door open after a few seconds, turning a light on and you took in the space. A fairly large open-plan layout, homey decor, family photos on the walls. You noticed lots of photos of a young teenager, a daughter? He hadn’t mentioned it. He followed your gaze and interrupted your thoughts, “Yeah, thats… That’s my daughter, Sarah.”

Your eyes must have widened in surprise and he reassured you, “She’s not here. She’s at my mother’s. And her mother, well… I ain’t seen her for over ten years.”

“O-Oh.” You stuttered, frowning. “I wasn’t- I.”

“No, it’s alright.” He scratched the back of his neck and chuckled awkwardly. “I just usually don’t lead with the fact I’m a single dad. Puts some women off.”

“It would take a good bit more than that to put me off you, Joel.” You stepped towards him, closing the gap between you, and he exhaled in relief.

“You need that nightcap, sweetheart?” He asked, voice low and breathless.

You shook your head slightly and he quickly acted, putting a hand under your chin, tilting your lips up towards his and connecting you in a kiss. It was sweet and gentle for a good few seconds before he reached up and removed his jacket from your shoulders, throwing it onto the kitchen island beside you and deepening the kiss, flicking his tongue against your lips. You opened your mouth and one of his hands held you by the back of the head, the other making its way to your waist.

He pushed you softly, leading you backwards down a corridor, breaking the hungry kiss only a few times to get the lights as you traveled through the house. Your hands explored his broad shoulders, his muscular chest, and his defined back. You wondered what he did for work. You imagined it had to be something physical for his body to be in such good shape, plus he seemed the type.

He reached out to open a door behind you and guided you in, kicking it closed again behind the two of you. He continued to guide you backwards until your legs hit against the foot of the bed and you sat down. He remained standing, his hand cupping your jaw and tilting it upwards to keep eye contact. His eyes were dark with lust and the sight of him above you like this was enough to make you squirm, pressing your thighs together, although the short dress you wore meant there was no friction between your legs to relieve the tension you felt. He smirked, watching you.

“Pretty dress.” He remarked, reaching behind you to unzip it. You reached up to him simultaneously, working at the buttons on his flannel shirt. As you undid them, it revealed tanned skin, a strong chest and core that wasn’t perfectly chiseled, rather he was clearly muscular but still soft. Dark hair trailed from his lower stomach into his jeans and you frantically tried to unbuckle his belt as he slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

You were breathing heavily, the house was silent except for a clock ticking and the bed creaking with every moment.

His fingers toyed with the skirt of your dress and you reached down to grasp the hem, taking the initiative and pulling it over your head, leaving you in a white matching lingerie set. You thanked yourself for your choice of underwear despite it genuinely not having been your intention to put it on display tonight.

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He breathed, leaning his head down to kiss you again. You blushed and threw your head back, and he continued to kiss, your throat, your collarbones, and the curve of your cleavage peaking out of your lace bra.

He unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his legs. His erect cock, pressing against his boxers, was level with your face. You made a concentrated effort not to open your mouth involuntarily at the sight. He must have caught the hungry expression in your eyes as he chuckled, “Patience, sweetheart.”

He discarded the jeans on the floor followed by his socks and pushed you until you lay back on his comfortable bed. As you breathed deeply you inhaled his rich musky scent that surrounded you. His mouth found its way to your neck again, peppering it with open mouthed kisses and applying light suction now and then. You rubbed your thighs together again, desperate for attention on the aching that grew in intensity between your legs. He was in tune with your body, noticing this and spreading them with a large, warm hand.

He pressed on you lightly through your underwear, cupping you and squeezing gently. You moaned a little and you could hear him exhale a breath of amusement. He liked the effect he was having on you.

You were fairly experienced but something about this handsome stranger had you writhing under him like a touch-starved virgin. This powerful, commanding, and dominant partner in bed was something you were yet to experience and you knew Joel would provide it.

He put a hand into your underwear and his fingers slipped through your wet folds. He let out a sigh at the sensation, “You’re soaked for me, gorgeous.”

You whined and lightly thrusted your hips up, grinding into his touch. This earned you a chuckle from him. Your eagerness turned him on like nothing else.

His exploration of you was painstakingly slow and you couldn’t help but plead “J-Joel.”

He obliged immediately, thrusting two fingers inside your wet hole. You moaned instantly at the sensation you had been waiting for.

“Y-Yes.” You gasped, and he picked up his speed, thrusting his fingers in and out of you, curling and scissoring inside of you to hit every spot of your tight walls.

“Oh, god. Yes, god, Oh m-“

“That’s not my name, baby.”

Joel and his one liners. You giggled but were quickly cut off into a gasping mess when he began hammering his fingers inside you at speed, inserting a 3rd one too. You felt his large erection pressing into you and felt grateful he wasn’t rushing through the foreplay.

“Will you let me taste you, baby?” He groaned quietly into your ear.

You released a strangled moan, utterly turned on by his request. It felt intimate for a one-night stand but you found yourself nodding eagerly, keen to please him and let him take whatever he likes from your body.

He quickly moves downwards, hooking a finger into each side of your panties and dragging them down your hips. Freeing them from your legs, and reaching up above your head, tucking them safely under the pillow.

He spreads your legs apart with two strong hands and you gasp in anticipation as he closes in on you, connecting his lips to your clit, softly sucking, kissing, dragging his tongue through your folds down to your leaking entrance and back up again to repeat. His stubble and moustache rubbed pleasantly against you, tickling you as he worked at you with his mouth.

After a while, he added his hand, intensifying the sensations he was giving you. He curled his fingers lazily inside of you, slowly torturing your sensitive insides and not reducing any of the attention he was giving your clit, continuing to flick his tongue against it violently, strong hands forcing your hips down to keep still on the bed where your body was naturally writhing and grinding up against him.

As he continued, your string of helpless moans increased in volume and became less words and more garbled curses and sounds.

“Oh, Joel.” A strangled moan left you and he hummed back in response, sending a vibration through your clit where his mouth was attached to you, making you shudder and gasp. The intensity of the pleasure he was giving you had tears welling in the corner of your eyes.

His prowess allowed him to sense when your orgasm was coming when you did, gripping the curls at the back of his head and pulling him closer to you- if that was possible.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded enthusiastically, panting his name and as he increased the pressure on your clit, sucking slightly harder and fucking you with his fingers slightly faster, you felt your orgasm building, hot ropes of tension in your stomach, and down each limb.

After a few more seconds you snapped, practically screaming his name. He slowed down his fingers but didn’t stop as he licked wide stripes up and down your entire pussy as if he was cleaning you up. You shivered as the overstimulation was sending you crazy, his stubble tickling you and giving you goosebumps on your thighs.

“Please,” You begged him, pushing his head away slightly. You looked down at him through hazy eyes and saw something erotic; the sight of his mouth and moustache glistening wet with your juices, and him looking back up at you grinning like a devil.

You had never slept with a man who had prioritised your pleasure in this way, making you orgasm before you had even touched him. This was intoxicating, and you felt as though what should have been a simple one night stand with Joel may lead to you becoming hooked on him.

As your sensitive parts took time to recover, he was slipping out of his boxers. A large and hard erection stood up , slapping his lower stomach and leaking pre-cum from its pinkish red tip. Your jaw dropped at the size.

“Close that mouth sugar before I fill it up.” He growled.

The gentleman act was over. As you had requested, Joel wasn’t going to treat you like a lady in the sheets. Your eyes still widened in surprise and you saw him smirk at the effect his words had on you.

“You ready to take this cock, hm?” He asked, grasping it and dragging the tip through your wet folds, circling your clit before taking it back down to nudge at your entrance.

You nodded and pushed your hips up towards him but this earned you a light slap on your upper thigh. “Uhuh,” He scolded. “Use your words, darlin’. Tell me what you want.”

You moaned as he slowly tortured you by continuing to grind the head of his hard cock against you, giving you pleasurable friction but nothing close to what you desired which was his cock buried deep inside you.

“Please, Joel.” You begged in an erotic tone that you were surprised to hear coming from yourself. It practically sounded fake and exaggerated the way you were panting and pleading for him. “Need you to fuck me Joel need you to fill me up, please, ah-”

He cut off your speech by pressing the tip into your entrance slowly, earning a gasp from you. It hadn’t even been that long since you last got laid but his sheer size would take some getting used to.

“Good girl. Thank you for asking so politely.” He continued to push into you, his own breathing faltering as he did so.

You moaned loudly at the sensation of his wide cock spreading you open, stretching your tight hole around him. “Please, Joel.”

“Jesus christ baby girl,” he groaned. “I’d give you the world if you asked like that.”

You pulled him close to you by wrapping your hands around his back and the back of his neck, kissing him messily as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you. It was a welcome sensation but the aching inside of you was craving more. You wiggled your hips against his to increase the tension and he chuckled.

“So greedy.” He taunted, slapping your breast lightly with a hand he has been using to toy with your nipple.

He gave in to your silent demands, increasing the force of his thrusts, and you moaned loudly every time he bottomed out, reaching the perfect spot inside you and stretching you out so pleasurably. His hands came down to wrap around your hips and, gently at first, he pulled you towards himself in sync with each thrust. This earned louder moans from you, and your expressions as he watched you from above could have made him spill inside you right then and there. You were absolutely gorgeous and the tortured but positively blissed out look on your face as he had his way with you was awakening a primal level of desire inside him.

“Play with those tits for me, gorgeous.” He asked, and you reached out both hands to cup each tit, pinching your nipples between your thumb and forefinger, rolling them. Pushing your tits together and moaning, biting your lip and releasing strangled moans as he fucked you at a relentless pace.

You were certainly a performer, he noted, whilst he was in control here, there was nothing passive about your role, putting on an erotic display for his eyes only. A thought intruded into his mind that he tried hard to push away- I never want any other man to see her like this again.

He pulled out unexpectedly and you looked up at him questioningly, but he quickly answered by grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your front, dragging your body up so you were on your hands and knees. So, he would play dirty. You wiggled your ass for him in anticipation and he groaned at the sight, grasping one cheek hard with his large hand.

He guided his cock into you and wasted no time slamming himself fully in. This angle helped you appreciate his size and was hitting something impossibly deep within you. He set an aggressive pace that had you nearly screaming, and you struggled to keep yourself upright and steady on your hands. Your back arched and his view was perfect of your tanned skin, light tanlines visible on your lower back.

He grunted loudly, the sounds of both of you vocalising, skin slapping, and the bed creaking violently, filled the once silent house.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby.” He praised. You couldn’t respond, intense pleasure rendering you speechless, only able to produce strings of moans.

“I’m gonna come,” He announced, his thrusts remained forceful but his rhythm faltered and with a grunt he pulled out. Your pussy clenched, the feeling of emptiness with the absence of his cock was unwelcome.

With a few strokes of his fist, you heard him groan loudly as he released a warm load of his cum onto your ass and lower back. He stayed still for a moment, catching his breath as well as appreciating the sight of you beneath him, covered in his seed. He let out a loud sigh and you felt him move away from his position behind and eventually, felt the weight on the mattress shift as he stood up. He proceeded to open a door and came out with tissues and a wet towel, cleaning you off with both. You allowed yourself to relax into the intimate moment, the weight of you sinking into the comfortable mattress as he took care of you.

He reached up under the pillow, grabbing your underwear where he had stashed it before and gently lifting your legs to guide it back up your body. He crawled into the bed too, pulling the covers from beneath you and tucking you both in.

“I’d like you to stay.” He whispered into the space between you.

You hummed. He seemed so genuine, it wasn’t an offer he was giving out of obligation, or an I guess you can stay if you have to- Joel was open and honest and told you what he wanted.

“And I’d like it if you would give me your number.” He added.

You nuzzled your face closer into his chest, feeling comforted by his strong, warm body.

“I was afraid you’d never ask.” You muttered, kissing his neck softly as he tightened his grip around you, holding you close to him.

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