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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Always Ever Only You Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley just needs your full attention long enough for you to tell him what's bothering you, and for you to pick out a new car. He comes home from golfing completely unwilling to let you gloss things over, but the conversation veers off course once again when you share some big news.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, oral, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

By the eighteenth hole, Bradley was restless. This was taking forever. He somehow forgot how meticulous Bob was when he teed off, adding probably a full hour to the golf outing. He bit his tongue and fought the urge to tell Bob to move things along so he could get back home to you. When he left hours ago, you were still sound asleep, and he was concerned that you weren't feeling well. He was also completely fed up with the way you were avoiding conversation.

He played through the last hole as quickly as he could, and when Jake and Javy suggested grabbing lunch and a beer, he made his excuses and a quick exit. "Next time. And it'll be my treat. But I need to get home."

"Angel's got you so pussy whipped," Jake drawled as if he wasn't currently driving his car around complete with a car seat for Jeremiah.

"Do you ever hear me denying it or complaining about it?" Bradley replied as he set his clubs in the back of the Bronco. "I don't think she's feeling great, and I need her to pick out a new car. I'm getting fed up with her dragging her feet. So she's picking something out today."

Jake laughed as he opened his car door. "Yeah, go try to show her who's the boss, buddy. Good luck with that."

Bradley grunted and rolled his eyes. You and he were a team, and if he had to demand that you hear him out, then he'd get his way about it. He was absolutely unwilling to return to a place where the two of you weren't communicating well. But as he drove back home, he was starting to get more annoyed. He already asked you so many times to tell him what was bothering you and what was on your mind, and each time, you'd burst into tears. He didn't even know what the hell he was doing wrong.

"Fuck," he growled as he pulled into the empty driveway, honestly kind of missing your little shit mobile since it had made you happy. Today was his mom's birthday, and he wanted you to have a good day, but if he pissed you off, then he pissed you off. He was armed with his phone browser open to two options that would just have to be good enough. He left his clubs in the car as he strolled up the walkway to the porch in his white golf pants and floral print shirt. He would just have to get you to accept the fact that a new car needed to happen.

"Sweetheart?" he called out when he opened the door. You and Tramp both came running into the living room. "Hey, we need to talk about some of this shit. Right now."

"Okay, but-"

"Please," he said firmly, holding up one hand. "Just let me say what I need to say, alright?"

You were bouncing on the balls of your bare feet with your hands clasped in front of you. "Okay," you agreed, your voice breathy and light. All he wanted to do was collect you in his arms and smother you in kisses, but he couldn't get sidetracked right now.

Bradley closed the distance to you but planted his hands on his hips. "I love you so much, but something is not working right now. And I'm not going to let us fall apart again. Ever. I want to talk it through right now, and I need you to participate. Starting with your car."

You reached out and let one hand rest on his abs as your lips parted, but he shook his head.

"No, seriously, Baby Girl. I will do anything to make you happy, but could you please, please just pick out a car? I don't like leaving you home without one." He paused to lean in and kiss your forehead briefly. "I found a brand new, red Honda Civic with all of the same features as your old one. Same transmission, sunroof, everything. And it's on a lot in Chula Vista. We could go look at it right now."

"Bradley, I don't think that's a good idea," you told him, smiling up at him. He felt his resolve fracturing, but he kept going.

"Well, something has to give here! That's the best I can come up with. Unless... you want to go with the blue one I found online which is exactly the same as the one that I totaled. Same model year and everything, but it's in Maine. If you really want it, we can fly there and drive it back. I already talked to the owner about the price."

"Bradley, I don't want that one either."

He tipped his head back in frustration as your hand caressed him through his shirt. "For the love of god, Sweetheart, I am trying my best here. And you're giving me nothing. And it's not just the car," he snapped as he met your gaze again, eyes wide looking up at him. "You yelled at me for buying the wrong coffee when I thought they just changed the label, and you fell asleep while we were mid conversation. And I hurt you when we were having sex, but you wouldn't even talk about it afterwards. I need you to tell me if I'm not doing it for you, because I don't want to keep fucking this up!"

"You're not fucking anything up," you promised quietly. "You're not, Roo."

He examined your pretty, eager face and shrugged. "Then just tell me what's going on here."

You bit your lip and closed the remaining inches between your body and his, and then you smiled up at him so brilliantly, his breath caught in his lungs. As you carefully wrapped your arms around his waist, you said, "I'm pregnant."

He was frozen in time and space, barely able to process your words as his belly swooped and his heart raced. Pregnant. You were pregnant? He swallowed hard as he let his forehead rest against yours, trying to formulate words.

"Baby Girl, are you really? Pregnant?"

"Yes," you whispered, and Bradley had you in his arms, making you squeal as he lifted you up in the air.

"You're pregnant?" he asked again, beaming at you as you wrapped your legs and arms around him.

"I'm pregnant!"

"Holy shit!" he nearly screamed as you buried your face in his neck and laughed in delight. "Holy shit! You're pregnant!"

He didn't know what to do with himself as he held you tight against him, imagining a baby in your arms. His baby. And your baby. Something the two of you had been dreaming about for so long. The one thing he'd had to make himself understand he didn't need at the cost of a happy marriage, but that he'd still yearned for.

Your happy laughter and whispered words had his feet moving toward the bedroom. "You're going to be a dad, Roo."

He set you down on the bed, covering your body with his large one, careful not to hurt you as your sweet lips met his. "I love you so much," he murmured between kisses that left him breathless. "I fucking adore you, Sweetheart."

You whimpered as he slowly let his hand drift down your body before inching your shirt up and running his knuckles gently along your belly. He kissed you hard on the lips one last him before easing his body down lower, kissing your sternum on his way to your belly button. He thought about the future as he said, "And I adore you, too."

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You ran your fingers lazily through your husband's soft curls as his big hand rested on the middle of your belly next to his cheek. He was a little sweaty and still wearing his golf clothes, but everything was just perfect. The edge of his mustache tickled your sensitive skin as he whispered, "I love you."

Everything made sense now which made you feel more settled. Honestly, this was much better than the flu that you thought you had, and you giggled. "You'll be the best Daddy, Bradley."

He looked up your body before kissing you a dozen more times all over your abdomen. Calloused fingers stroked your skin as he looked at you with those big, brown eyes you were completely addicted to. "Fuck. I'm so excited. I don't even know what to do with myself," he told you as you sat up and climbed onto his lap. "You took a pregnancy test?"

"Yes. I had one tucked in the back of the bathroom closet that I bought a few months ago," you whispered, brushing his scarred cheek with your lips and the tip of your nose.

"Where's the test?" he asked, scooping you up in his arms again as you told him it was in the bathroom. "I want to see it." You'd managed to pick it up off the floor earlier before examining it for about five minutes with tears in your eyes before you left it on the vanity. And now Bradley set you down, but he kept one arm around you as he picked it up. "Two lines means you're pregnant?" he asked, looking at you in reverence.

You nodded and whispered, "Yes," and then his eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Roo."

"Sweetheart. You're pregnant," he said so softly. "We're going to have a baby."

"Yes," you confirmed as you wiped at his tears with your thumbs while he held onto the test. "I realized when I woke up that my period was late, and then I threw up. A lot. So I took the test."

He sucked in a deep, shaky breath before he kissed your forehead. "Do you remember what today is?"

You let your cheek come to rest on his chest as you said, "Of course I do. It's your mom's birthday. I already bought everything to make filet mignon and crab cakes for dinner. But I guess we ended up with a birthday present?"

With lips pressed to your hair, he muttered, "She would have loved this. She would have loved you almost as much as I do. And she would have been a good grandma."

And now you felt more tears stinging at your eyes. It had been nine months of trying for this moment, which wasn't extravagantly long in the grand scheme of things, but it had been stressful and hard on your marriage at times. Bradley was your teammate, and he'd worked as hard as you had to make sure the two of you made it back to a good place.

"Can we go to the store?" he asked suddenly. "Buy some more pregnancy tests so I can be here when you take one? And get some ginger ale if your stomach is still upset?"

"Yeah," you said with a laugh. "If you want."

"I want," he replied immediately, taking you by the hand and leading you toward the front door. His cheeks were flushed pink, and he was all smiles as he stopped on the driveway next to the Bronco and gasped. "The Bronco, Sweetheart."

"What about it?" you asked as he slowly backed you up until your butt hit the passenger side door. Bradley caged you in with a predatory glint in his eye before kissing your forehead softly. But you felt so calm as his hand slipped underneath your shirt, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your belly.

"A Bronco is the solution. It's so clear now. We'll swing by the Ford dealer after the drug store. And then we can drive home in two separate Broncos so you can take the tests. And then we can make my mom's birthday dinner."

Your lips parted, but no words came out, and Bradley dipped his head down to kiss you. He was smiling against your lips as his arms snaked around you. "Another Bronco?" you whispered. "You think?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed as his lips skimmed your cheek. "A lot more indestructible than your old thing. I'm not going to let our baby ride around in a little compact car death trap on wheels. Let's get a second Bronco."

"It wasn't that bad," you muttered, only slightly offended as you recalled the gigantic hole that he'd put in the bottom of your car with his foot. "Are you sure you don't just want to have access to drive two Broncos instead of one?"

Bradley leaned on one forearm against the door, still stroking your belly with his thumb and keeping you calm. "We need something big enough for a car seat to fit comfortably. If you don't want a Bronco, I think you should still consider another SUV. Preferably one I can actually fit in."

You looked up at his handsome and eager face, excitement bubbling under the surface of his expression. He was clearly as excited as you were about the positive test, and he just wanted you to be happy. Hell, he'd offered to drive a car back from Maine with you barely an hour ago. Before he even knew you were pregnant. You were still having a hard time wrapping your mind around it yourself.

Tears stung your eyes, and Bradley's smile faltered a little bit. "Listen," he whispered, kissing your forehead. "Anything you want to drive, okay? Anything you want. But I think we need to look at the safety ratings and all that shit if you really want a compact car again."

"I don't want a compact car again," you hiccupped. "I was trying to tell you that earlier. We can go look at Broncos. I'm just so emotional. I can't seem to control it. But at least I know where it's coming from now."

Bradley smiled as he pulled you away from the door before opening it, and then he buckled you in. "It's coming from the little Bradshaw bun in your oven, and I couldn't be happier."

-----------------------------

Even the brief walk around to the driver's side door felt like too much, because Bradley didn't want to stop touching you. As soon as he could, he slipped his hand in yours once again and smiled at you before backing out of the driveway. He'd been ready for this for a long time. He knew he'd always been a step ahead of you; his desire to date you exclusively startled you at first, but he knew pretty early on that you'd be wearing his mom's ring eventually. He was ready for this day before you were, too, but he had tried his best not to rush you here. As soon as you told him you stopped taking your birth control back in November, he was ready for you to be knocked up the next day.

But now you were, and he was looking forward to all of it. The arguments had been worth it. The way he fucked things up before had been worth it, because both of you worked hard to fix things which told him you were unbeatable.

"We're going to be awesome parents," he said, making you laugh as he parked at the pharmacy. When you tried to climb out your door, Bradley tugged on your hand and whispered, "Come over here. I don't want to stop touching you. I don't want to let go of you."

You willingly crawled onto his lap and let your cheek come to rest on his shoulder. "Don't let go of me."

"I won't," he promised, stroking your belly again like he just couldn't help himself. "Hey, should we call your parents this weekend and tell them the news?"

You pulled a few inches away from him with a little pout and shook your head. "I think it's too early, Bradley."

"Oh. Right," he replied, suddenly embarrassed that he wasn't sure about all of the timelines and exactly what everything meant.

"You know," you added softly. "In case something... happens to the baby. It's still so early. There's still a good chance that something could go wrong."

Bradley's body felt like it was sent into a freefall just thinking about anything happening to either of you. He held you tighter and kissed you a little rougher than he meant to, making you moan as he shook his head. "No. Don't say that." His voice was thick with emotion as he squeezed his eyes closed. "Don't say that, Baby Girl."

"Okay," you whispered, taking his face in both of your hands and caressing him with your soft and steady fingers. "I won't say it again." You kissed his lips and his scars as you pushed your fingers gently back through his hair which was probably already a mess from golfing earlier. But the more you touched him, the better he felt, and he took a few deep breaths as you said, "But I'm already so attached right now that it's a little scary. Already attached to the baby and the idea of you being a daddy."

"I am too," he promised as he opened his eyes to see you so close to him. "I'm so ready for this."

You kissed him one more time as you whispered, "I love you." And then you led him inside as he remembered all the times he played with Jeremiah and changed his diapers and read him books. Oh shit, he was so excited to have it for himself, he scooped up at least ten pregnancy tests while you laughed and chased him up to the registers.

"Do you think that's enough?" you asked sarcastically as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

He picked some bottles of ginger ale out of the small refrigerator case next to the register as he said, "Listen, I missed the one from this morning, so you owe me. Just humor me, okay? I want to watch those little lines show up with my own eyes."

As he reached into his pocket for his wallet to pay for the collection of tests, he realized he was still wearing his golf clothes and shoes. In all of his excitement, he'd forgotten to change. And now he was getting excited all over again as he inserted his credit card and looked at you. Should he get you right home to take the pregnancy tests? Take you to bed and show you how attached he was, too? Visit the Ford dealer?

He groaned, knowing the Ford dealer was going to win out since he actually had your attention on the new car right now. "Here," he told you, handing you the bag as he buckled you back in again. "Drink one of the bottles so you'll have enough pee for the tests while I drive us to look at the new Broncos. Start thinking about what color you want."

"Red," you replied immediately. "It's what I had before, plus it's your favorite color."

"Fuck," Bradley practically whined, lacing his fingers with yours. "A hot, pregnant wife, a baby on the way, and two Broncos in the driveway? This might be the best day of my life so far. I don't know how much more I can handle here."

You laughed as he kissed you all over your face, resting his hand gently against your belly through your shirt. His to-do list was growing by the minute, and he was a little alarmed that his heart rate was elevated with no signs of slowing down, but every time he looked at your face he said, "I love you."

------------------------------

"It's just butter, Bradley," you said as you watched him trying his best to help you cook Carole's birthday dinner. "How are you this bad at melting butter?"

He shot you a playful glare before moving to stand behind you at the stove, wrapping his arms around you so that his hands were resting on your belly. "I'll just watch the pro then."

You shook your head, still a little startled by everything that happened today. An hour at the Ford dealership and the two of you left hand in hand after paying a deposit for the red Bronco that they were going to acquire for you from a dealer in northern California. Then you came home and took ten more pregnancy tests while Bradley sat in the bathroom with you, shooting you his big, soppy brown eyes filled with tears while he smiled. They were all positive, and they were all still lined up on the vanity, and you were pretty sure he kept occasionally sneaking off to look at them.

As you turned the crab cakes over in your cast iron pan, you whispered, "I feel like your mom is watching over us somehow."

"Oh, I have no doubt," he replied immediately, holding you a little tighter and nudging your sore breasts. "Goose, too. But especially her, on her birthday. She'd have been a mess over this news."

You set the spatula down and had to close your eyes. Your hormones were all over the place, and this was the thing that sent you immediately into a fit of body wracking sobs. "What's wrong?" Bradley asked with concern, turning you around and inspecting your hands. "Did you burn yourself?"

"No," you wailed. "I'm just so happy, but it's not fair that your parents aren't here. Like I can deal with the fact that I never got to meet them, but this is so not fair! And I'm sorry, but I can't control my emotions at all."

He pulled you closer and let you cry, kissing your ear and whispering that everything was going to be okay. As you got your breathing under control, he said, "If you're this emotional at like five and a half weeks, I guess I better buckle in for the ride."

You glared up at him before he leaned down to kiss your tears away with a smile, and you let him take the brownies out of the oven and load a plate with dinner. With your hand held in his, Bradley carried the meal to the table, but he led you to the piano instead of one of the chairs.

"Remember how to play it?" he asked softly as he took a seat and patted the bench next to him. You needed a short tutorial, but he was as patient as ever as he reminded you of the notes. Then you helped him play and sing Happy Birthday to Carole even though it wasn't perfect, and at the end he whispered, "Thanks, mom. Let's go eat, Baby Girl."

You sat perched on his lap like always, mouth watering as you looked at the steak and crab cakes. Everything looked amazing, and you were starving. "How does it taste?" you asked as Bradley took three bites of dinner in rapid succession.

"Fucking incredible," he replied as you cut yourself a piece of steak. It was buttery and delicious, and it practically melted in your mouth. You moaned as you tried the crab cakes, and they were pretty good, too. About halfway through the meal your stomach lurched, and you turned to look at Bradley.

He smiled at you as you shook your head and said, "Oh no." You practically fell off of his lap as you ran for the hallway bathroom, barely making it in time to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. He was right behind you, rubbing your back as you sat down hard on the floor and caught your breath.

"This is a pregnancy thing, right?" he asked softly. "Morning sickness?"

You nodded. "I think so. I was going to call my doctor on Monday anyway and tell her about my positive tests, but I'll tell her about this, too."

Bradley collected you in his arms and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," you whined, letting your forehead come to rest against his sternum.

"I have an idea," he replied. A few minutes later, you were sitting on the couch with a plate of crackers smeared with peanut butter in your hand and the trash can on the floor in front of you. Bradley finished eating the plate of Carole's birthday dinner, and now he was working on cleaning up the kitchen while he dug into the tray of brownies. You gingerly bit into one of the crackers, and your stomach growled but didn't lurch. So you kept going.

It took you an hour, but you finished the whole plate as you thought about how things would change around here with a baby involved. Nothing seemed too startling though, probably because you'd been subconsciously looking forward to this for such a long time. You knew Bradley was as well. And the way he came out to check on you several times as he cleaned up the house had you swooning over your husband a little bit.

You shared the last cracker with Tramp and then stood to take your plate to the kitchen where Bradley was leaning on the island looking at his phone. "What are you doing?" you asked him.

He looked up at you and blushed a little bit. "Looking at crib bedding," he replied, and you practically tossed the plate at the sink before hurrying to his arms. "You feeling better?"

You nodded. "Crib bedding?" You were instantly melting into his touch.

"Yeah. I thought we could do airplanes?"

You whimpered against his muscular chest as he pocketed his phone. "Yes, Roo, we can do airplanes."

He rubbed your back as you tucked your hands up inside the golf shirt he had been wearing all day and let your fingers skim along his abs. "I'm just really excited about this," he said, voice full of emotion. "All the baby stuff. And a nursery. I was already thinking about finishing the attic, but now we should definitely do it so your parents can stay up there when they visit their grandchild. And we can get those convertible car seats for both Broncos. And we should probably start looking at daycares before the baby is born. Like the really good daycares, you know?"

"Oh fuck," you moaned as you looked up at him. "Bradley. You're incredible." You rubbed yourself against the fly of his white pants, and both of his eyebrows shot up.

"You want to?" he rasped, and you started pulling him toward the bedroom. "Last time we had sex, I hurt you, Sweetheart. I don't want to do that again."

"You won't," you promised as you tugged off his shirt. "You won't, because I know what's going on now."

He nodded and reached for his pants zipper as you quickly got yourself undressed and climbed into bed. Bradley watched you as he struggled with his shoes and socks before he could take his pants off, and the two of you shared a laugh. Then you bit your lip as his hard cock sprung free, practically vibrating with anticipation as he plopped down on the bed on his back.

"Come here," he whispered, but when you started to straddle his hips, he shook his head. "No. Up here." You leaned down to kiss him, and he welcomed you with a smile on his face, but after his tongue tangled with yours he broke the kiss. "I want you to sit on my face."

"Oh," you gasped as he reached for your butt and pulled you up until you were straddling his neck. Then his mouth was on you, and you were reaching for the headboard with one hand as your fingers grasped Bradley's curls with the other. He was so gentle, kissing up and down your most intimate parts before separating you with his nose. "Oh my god," you whined as he nudged your clit and looked up at you before starting to suck.

You were already pulsing around nothing, your fingernails scraping along his scalp as you rolled your hips gently against his mouth. Bradley licked you up and back before sucking gently again. The more aroused you got, the more your boobs hurt, but it wasn't as bad as last time. Not when his mouth was doing everything to make you wetter as he gently ran his hands along the backs of your thighs and your butt.

It would have come as no surprise to you if he told you that you were dripping wet now as you whispered, "I want your cock."

Bradley practically growled as he released you, his mouth glistening as he licked his lips. "Only if I'm not going to hurt you," he reiterated, voice deep and gravelly as you moved further down his body. "Stop me if I am."

You lifted his length and slipped him slowly inside you as he grunted and propped himself up on one hand. "Feels good," you promised him as you pushed and pushed until he was fully seated. His eyes were big pools as he hesitated a bit before kissing the valley between your breasts, his lips feather light. And that was exactly what you needed as he brought his other hand up to your belly.

"I love you," he whispered, letting his lips barely caress your nipple as you rocked slowly. "I love you so much, Sweetheart."

When his tongue grazed your breast, you whined for more, so he took your nipple between his lips. Instead of sucking, he let his tongue drift along lazily as you barely rocked your hips backward and forward, playing with his hair. "I love you, Daddy," you told him as you smirked.

He looked up at you as he released your breast and gently started to lick your left one as you cupped his cheek. Between kisses and soft nuzzles, Bradley poured his heart out to you as you enjoyed the feel of him, thick and delicious inside you.

"I'll take care of both of you. Always. I'm going to love you forever. I'll never stop. You're perfect. So fucking perfect. I can't get enough. I can't wait for everything."

You were barely moving on his cock when you came hard, your nipples wet to the cool air from his saliva and your fingers gripping his hair. "Bradley. Bradley. Bradley," you panted, squeezing him so tight as you pulsed around him.

He grunted, watching your face as he let himself come undone, too. He was still breathing heavily as he leaned back against the pillows, and you sank down on top of him. "I didn't hurt you?"

"Not at all," you promised. "My breasts are so tender, but that felt amazing."

"Got it," he whispered, nodding as he wrapped his arms around you. Very slowly you let your body press to his, careful to get into a position that didn't make you want to wince. "I can be extra gentle," he promised. "I can be anything you need. Anything either of you need."

A chill rippled through your body at his words, because you knew they were true. You leaned up and looked at his handsome face, cheeks flushed and lips softly parted. When you kissed him, he tasted like you. His softening cock was still inside you, but neither of you made any move to get cleaned up quite yet.

"You can't stop touching me, can you?"

"I can, Sweetheart. I just don't want to," he replied softly from where he had his face buried against your neck. "Hey, we should go to bed early since you've been so tired. Maybe the baby needs the extra sleep."

"Oh," you gasped, pulling back and examining his face. "Early." You figured you had to be between five and six weeks pregnant, but the last time you had your period, it had come early.

"What?"

Your mind was swirling as you did the math, and a smile broke out on your face.

"What?" he asked again, looking at you in puzzlement.

If your period had been early, then you were probably only still ovulating for the very first day that Bradley had been home from his special mission. You started laughing as you kissed him over and over again before rolling onto your back and cracking up.

"Tell me," he said, rolling to his side next to you as he started laughing, too.

"Oh my god, Roo," you wheezed. "I think you got me pregnant when you totaled my car."

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A BABY!! A BRADSHAW BUN IN THE OVEN! MOM AND DAD! Do you want to read more of the pregnancy adventure? I hope so. The fact that this has been planned out for the past year is just wild to me, and I'm so happy I got to share it with you. Thanks for everything @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 28

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769 notes · View notes

ultravioletrayz · 1 year ago

Note

So my idea for degradation fic involving Miguel would be something like this- (also please keep an open mind this idea is kinda out there)

So lets say Miguel is your mentor and you are so eager to please and do good work. You have always been kinda good at everything so people complementing you and telling you how great you are is nothing new. But Miguel is different, he's hard to please. So when you do something right he's not complementing you and that is odd for you, and when you mess something up well...he's quick to criticize you. this stirs something within you.

So you keep trying to please him and he's not into it he just keeps bringing you down and reader is starting to like it, sometimes wanting messing up. So lets say reader makes a big mistake on a mission and Miguel is ready to yell and degradant them but reader is getting turned on by it and Miguel noted it so he starts to degradant them more and it starts getting into NSFW territory. while he's getting into it he's just saying filth to you. "your so such a needy slut" "look at you getting turned on while I bully you, pathetic" "you want to be a good girl? you want me to praise you? too bad...now open..." *spits in readers mouth*

then if you can end it off where reader in passed out and thats when he's sweet in the aftercare when she dosn't know. he will open up to her one day just not yet.

Not even gonna lie, if Miguel was a meanie towards me i wouldn’t know whether to cry or cum.

Pairing: miguel o’hara x f!spiderperson!reader

Warnings: 18+, degrading kink, rough sex, fingering, orgasm denial/mild edging, getting bent over miguel’s desk, marking, clit slapping (like, once), pull-out method, absolutely terrible and rushed ending, miguel being mean, horny, and ultimately just socially-awkward

Summary: you strive for perfection in all areas… until the opportunity arises where doing the opposite will give you access to the perfection inside your mean boss’s boxers.

A/N: before anyone tries to come for me for making miguel seem like an asshole in this fic, ik that this isn’t entirely true to miguel’s character. however, i’m horny and dgaf. enjoy!!

Word Count: 3K (unedited)

For as long as you could remember, people would refer to you as ‘gifted’. It was as though everything you attempted to achieve was accomplished with ease. In your world, on the days when the Society was a distant memory and you were given the opportunity to act as a true Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Person, you practically lived in a bubble of praise. Surprisingly, the media worshipped you, recognising you as the hero you are. Locals chanted your name, asked for autographs, and even demanded you accept gifts and tokens of appreciation every time you were spotted in your costume on the streets.

Although you forced yourself to stay humble within the public eye, you would be lying if you tried to convince yourself that the compliments and special treatment didn’t make you feel good, didn’t push you to be a better superhero for the sake of the citizens who practically worship the ground you walk on.

Which is the primary reason why having to tend to work and assignments at the Spider Society caused you so much misery. When you were first recruited, a few other Spider-People had mentioned how short-tempered and cold the boss is, but you had expected to win him over with your natural, over-achieving flare. That goal was quickly crushed when you met Miguel O’Hara for the first time. He had immediately lectured you on certain habits he had observed from footage of you fighting crime at home, giving you strict instructions on how to be better at your job. From then on, you��ve tried your best to view his constant criticism as a positive and value his (poor) attempts at mentoring you.

It didn’t take long for you to realise that he wasn’t really trying to help you, and he was just a grumpy asshole as everyone had warned and wanted you to follow orders rather than going out and trying to prove yourself constantly. Lately, you’ve been slipping up, making mistakes. You had come to terms with the fact that Miguel wasn’t interested in showing you any appreciation or praise for your hard work, and it had begun to affect your performance on missions, bringing you to this point.

“What the hell was that?” Miguel snarls at you, his platform lowering as he slams his fist on his desk and glares at you, his sharp red eyes burning holes in your pretty, sad little face. You had almost let an anomaly get away, blinded by your insecurities and Miguel’s lack of interest in your skills, you would have destroyed an entire universe if it weren’t for the backup Miguel had sent you.

“Miguel, let me explain-” You start, being cut off by an angry huff from Miguel.

“I’m sick of the excuses. I don’t care about how you handle shit in your own dimension. When you come here and are trusted to keep the multiverse stable, I expect you to do as you’re told. Unless the small task of containing the minor anomalies I assign you is too much to handle?” Miguel scoffs, shaking his head as he looks you up and down.

The look of disappointment on his tan, chiselled face would usually have you on the verge of tears, but as you’ve grown accustomed to his harsh beratement, it’s begun to have a very different effect on you. You can just imagine him, brushed back curls dishevelled and clinging messily to his face as he pounds into your needy pussy, whispering absolute filth into your ear as he uses you to get off. The thought has you practically soaking through your Spider-Suit, causing you to instinctively squeeze your thighs together as you force yourself to keep your gaze from dropping to Miguel’s broad, muscular physique. As his glare intensifies and he rolls his eyes at your subtle movements, you know he’s got you figured out.

Miguel’s heightened senses pick up on your current state of arousal, the scent of your slick making him dizzy as it clouds his mind. He had always beaten himself up about how harsh he could be towards you, reflecting on his cruelty to such a pretty girl with shame and regret. But finding out that you liked being treated so poorly by him, it has him going fucking crazy.

“Por el amor de Dios,” (for fuck’s sake) Miguel hisses, taking a step towards you, looming over your smaller form with a judgemental scowl plastered on his face. “You’re pathetic. Risking everything we work for here, just so that you can imagine me yelling at you while you finger-fuck yourself at night?”

Your eyes widen, his words reigning true as they hang in the air of the room. Yet, you make a miserable attempt at denying the accusation by shaking your head softly and taking a step back. Miguel only moves closer to you, intimidating you with his mere presence as his scowl curls into a cruel smirk.

“No me mientas, hermosa,” (don’t lie to me, beautiful) He whispers, one of his large, calloused hands grabbing your face and pulling you back towards him, fingers squeezing your cheeks as his breath hits your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine. “You’re usually so eager to please me. Did you think I was stupid enough not to notice when you started messing things up?”

“Miguel-” You whine, voice muffled due to the way he squishes your cheeks together, making your pretty lips jut out in a sad little pout.

“It always annoyed me how bubbly and determined you are,” He admits bluntly, sharp red eyes scanning your face, before trailing down to watch the way your thighs rub together in a pitiful attempt to alleviate the arousal coursing through you due to his relentless disparagement. “But I didn’t think you’d resort to acting like a dirty whore just because I’m not impressed by the ‘Friendly Neighbourhood’ act.”

His free hand trails down your body, fingers gliding between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, and stopping just above the crotch of your Spider-Suit. He chuckles lowly as he watches the way you squirm in his grasp, hips attempting to roll against his hand for any kind of friction.

If we had to be completely honest, he actually enjoyed watching you work. You really are gifted, always applying yourself to missions. When he heard you would be handling an anomaly for him, he would feel relieved, even proud. But he knew that any compliments he gave you would just be lost in the sea of praise you already received. So, in order to set himself apart, he decided he was going to be a complete dickhead to you. He figured bullying you would motivate you to seek him out in a crowd, make you strive to impress him and show off to him, and ultimately bring the two of you closer. It was shameful, how awful he is at making first impressions, that he’d rather hurt a beautiful young girl’s feelings as opposed to being a reliable boss and potential friend. But now knowing that he hadn’t completely ruined his chances at getting closer to you, he was certainly going to take full advantage of this new development.

“Now look at you, you don’t wanna be a good girl for me anymore, nena?” Miguel teases, grinning as he sees the need and innocence in your eyes as he releases your face with a harsh push. “You wanna be a dumb little slut for your fucking boss, instead?”

You want to say no, want to deny his harsh words and hopefully gain back some of the dignity he was stripping away from you, but your body yearns for Miguel’s touch, his degradation fueling your most carnal desires, and you nod your head frantically. Miguel sighs at your eagerness, tapping your cheek firmly as he wraps a hand around your throat, not applying any pressure but allowing his thumb to lazily stroke the side of your neck.

He leans in to bite your bottom lip hard, causing you to cry out in pain and open your mouth. He takes the opportunity and slams his plump lips against yours, tongue intertwining around yours inside your warm mouth as he groans into the sloppy, demanding kiss. His hand drops from your throat as his bulging arms tuck themselves underneath the fat of your ass and he lifts you up, carrying you over to his platform and dumping you on top of his desk, lips never leaving yours. Miguel’s razor-sharp claws protrude from his fingertips, slicing through the material of your Spider-Suit and prompting a startled yelp from you as he rips your clothes right off your body.

The matching set you have on underneath has his dick thrumming in his suit, and he almost loses sight of his initial plan in a desperate temptation to worship your gorgeous body and shower you with the praise that he knows you deserve. But he wants to be different, wants to hold a special place in your heart, and this was the only way to do it.

“You wore these for me, didn’t you?” He hisses flippantly against your lips, throwing the rags of your once cute little Spider-Suit across his office, before tearing your bra open from the middle with just the strength of his grip, claws retracting back into the pads of his fingers. “Puta de mierda.” (fucking whore)

Miguel flips your body over on his desk with ease, your face now pressed against the cold, hard material as Miguel leaves a trail of deep bite marks and hickeys across the exposed skin of your back, making his way down to your clothed pussy at an agonising pace, your ass wiggling enticingly to try and convince Miguel to give you what you want, what you need from him. Miguel peels your soaked panties off of you, tossing them onto his desk chair for later, as his fingers run up and down your already dripping folds, causing him to chuckle to himself.

“I never would’ve pegged you for a girl who gets off on this kind of thing,” Miguel whispers as his fingers explore your wetness, his tone much softer as his sharp, red eyes admire the way your body looks bent over his desk. He snaps himself out of his trance, opting to tap on your clit harshly with his fingers to bring himself back to a place of lust and callousness, and to tease you further.

Miguel dips his two fingers into your cunt, making you moan and cry out, your hands gripping the edge of Miguel’s desk as you push your hips back to fuck yourself on his thick fingers. He pumps his digits in and out of you at a leisurely pace, curling them to hit that sweet, gummy spot inside of you each time they delve deeper into your pussy. Miguel groans at the way you clench around his fingers as he thrusts them into you, his knuckles drenched in your arousal as he watches the way you grind against his hand when his thumb rubs your pulsing clit to stimulate you further.

You’re completely falling apart at his touch, the way his fingers deliciously stretch your hole making you see stars as you approach your climax. Just as you’re about to cum, Miguel pulls his fingers out of your cunt and gives your clit a harsh slap, making you whine as your entrance twitches at the sudden loss.

“Sluts don’t get to cum ‘til I say so, muñeca.” Miguel taunts, disabling his nano-tech suit, the holographic material dissolving and revealing his tall, tan, muscular, the mere feeling of him towering over you from behind making you moan against his desk. He holds his fat, stiff cock in one hand, dragging it between your folds and gathering the slick trickling down your thighs as he scoffs at the way you tremble and spasm at his touch. “Especially sluts like you.”

Miguel plunges his dick into your pussy aggressively, bottoming out in one harsh slam of his hips against your ass and causing you to scream, his hand coming down to cover your mouth and muffle your echoing moans as he delivers fast, disciplining thrusts into the depths of your core, tip kissing your cervix with each frenzied movement. His cock rams into you mercilessly as he digs one hand into the plush of your waist while the other holds your head up, the two fingers he was using to play with your pussy forcefully entering your mouth. On instinct, you wrap your lips around them and suck the remnants of your essence off of his skin, moaning and choking on his thick digits as Miguel’s length stretches you to the brink of what is possible for your tight little pussy to handle and his balls slap against your puffy clit.

“Pussy was fucking made for me,” He grunts, delivering a smack to your juicy ass, the sting making you whine against his fingers, saliva dribbling down your chin and saturating the desk below your face. “Squeezing me so tight. It’s a shame that this pretty cunt can’t make up for how shit you are at your job. Maybe I won’t bother assigning you missions anymore? I’ll just call you in when I need a hole to fuck.”

Wow. He really did think of you as useless. You had always considered yourself to be good at what you do. At home, you were a hero. Here, bent over your boss’s desk and being fucked so mercilessly, you felt like nothing but a whore. You cry, tears rolling down your cheeks as you moan and squeal with each thrust of Miguel’s thick cock into your hungry pussy. Despite your underlying feelings of shame for your recent failures as an employee, being fucked like a slut by the very man you’ve been fantasising about since the first time you had the displeasure of meeting was able to snap you out of your sadness and overwhelm you with passion.

Hearing you sob around his fingers fills Miguel with a sharp pang of guilt, but he brushes it off and pounds into you harder to remind himself of his end goal, breaking you down until he can make you his. If you really were as into his cruelty as you seemed, he was going to give you exactly what you so desperately needed.

“Mig-Miguel, I’m- fuck! I’m so close.” You whine, his fingers in your mouth making your voice come out as a spluttering cry.

Miguel pulls his soaked fingers out of your mouth and holds your waist with both hands, fucking his cock impossibly deeper inside of you as the sound of skin slapping against skin and both of your desperate, breathy sounds of pleasure fill the dark office.

“Beg for it, amor.” He whispers against your ear, his chest pressed flush against your back as he nibbles at the smooth skin of your neck as his dick moves in and out of you at a brutal pace, the veins of his thick length caressing the warm walls of your pussy as he smushes his tip against your sweet spot with each thrust.

“Please, Miguel! I promise I’ll do better. I won’t make another mistake again, I’m gonna be so good, I swear! Better than I’ve ever been!” Your breathless pleas make Miguel feel a conflicting surge of both guilt and power. He watches the way your back arches and your thighs shake as you try so so hard not to cum, to be a good girl for him and follow his orders. At the end of the day, you just wanted him to like you, to see how good of a hero you are, and he knew that. Which is why he’s finding it so fun to toy with you like this.

“Shh, I know. I’ll let you cum, sweetheart.” Miguel coos, tugging on your hair so that he can reach your face and plant a kiss on your tear-stained cheek, his soft, long-awaited act of reassurance contrasting the lewd sounds of squelching as he fucks you with mind-numbing intensity.

He reflects on his words as he listens to the way his unexpected words make you cry and whimper, and part of him regrets the way he approached your relationship, wishing he had just been honest with you and praised your efforts from the start, rather than being cruel and bending you over his desk to fuck you so harshly. But the way you tighten and pulse around his sensitive dick brings him back to the present, and he gives your waist an encouraging squeeze.

The tiny action of consolation has you spiralling, your vision going spotty as you squirt around Miguel’s fat cock, squeals and moans leaving your glistening lips as your whole body twitches with the all-consuming sensation of your release. Watching as you come undone, Miguel feels himself rapidly approaching his own release. He curses and pulls out of your sopping cunt, watching the way his leaky tip shines with your juices. It sends Miguel over the edge. He lets out a sharp whimper as he cums all over your round ass and your spine, thick globs of his climax staining your sweaty skin and making you exhale shakily.

The sex and your crying make you pass out on the desk, and Miguel quickly covers you up and carries you to his quarters, laying you down in his bed and tucking you in. He whispers a quick apology to you, letting his cruel persona disappear and showing you how much he actually values you as a colleague and person when he thinks you’re asleep, but you hear everything.

Maybe you didn’t really need to be praised by Miguel to know that you were good enough. And maybe he didn’t need to be so afraid of showing you that appreciation. For now, though, the angry sex would be a pleasant memory for both of you, in an odd way.

“Get some rest, cariño. You deserve it, for being such a good girl.”

I FINALLY FINISHED IT OMG. Thank you all for being so patient 💜💜

#ultravioletrayz #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #𖤓uv-c𖤓

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littleplantfreak · 7 months ago

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Chatterbox Pt. 1 - SFW

>Their calling/texting habits, especially with a partner that loves to be on the phone for hours (part two with the others dropping tomorrow I promise!!)

Hayato Suo - Phone? What phone? Just kidding. He texts a regular amount, but if you wanna be on the phone for a while, his limit is usually an hour unless you're both planning a date or something. He'd prefer to be with you in person otherwise. Invite him over~ He'll bring snacks and drinks for you.

Sakura Haruka- Better on calls than he is on texts for sure. Takes a long time to figure out what to talk about when you two do have calls. Likes to keep them half an hour or shorter regularly. If it's a special occasion or you're on vacation, he doesn't mind if the call goes longer, wanting to hear your voice even if it's only been a day since you left. Accidentally calls you on facetime a lot instead of like...a regular call. So you just see his ear or neck, or it's just completely dark.

Nirei Akihiko - Can talk for hours without fail. He does have an exact bed time that he sticks to though, so while he wants to keep talking, he's about 2 minutes from passing out on the floor. Has call parties that are so chaotic but insanely fun that everyone ends up cracking up during. Added Sakura to one of your calls before, but then Sakura thought you were WITH Nirei. "Sakura-san we're all on different phones." "But you both sound like you're in the same room???"

Kiryu Mitsuki - Calls you when he's gaming and you both just stay on the phone as a way of hanging out. Sometimes forgets you're on the phone and starts humming one of the osts and it sounds sooo nice. He'd sleep with the call still going if it wouldn't completely drain his phone battery. Depends on the day, but when he hasn't seen you in a bit, he's like "Just come over please."

Tsugeura Taiga - Loves calls too. Will call you when he's working out to show you that he hit his new goal. "Babe check out my form, let me know if you think my posture's off" And your just on facetime while he's in his local gym? He asks the people he's with if it's alright first though. Loves chatting or listening equally, so if you just want to hear his voice? He's got plenty to say.

Sugishita Kyotaro - He'll listen if you wanna chat as long as you want, he just doesn't say much. If the call goes on longer than 2 hours he might end up falling asleep. He has to be extra careful with his phone because he's prone to breaking it. It's got the strongest screen protector and case known to man. Actually waterproof at this point probably. Likes to send one set of character emojis when texting and just that set. He's got a special ringtone for you set, and answers it on the first ring every time.

Hiragi Toma - He's fine with calling or texting, but doesn't wanna be on the phone forever. If you have something to say, that's one thing, but if you're gonna talk his ear off, he's also one to just want you to come see him. Actually takes cute candids (unlike Ume who is a menace with them) and has one as your contact pic. Sometimes he looks at it and his stomach feels just a bit better during an attack.

Umemiya Hajime - GOSSIP GIRL FR! He's on the phone with you for hours telling you the juiciest secrets he's found out during the day. If you call him up at 3am cause you had the wildest dream? He's answering and talking about it with you until you're ready to fall back asleep. Has the UGLIEST candid of you you've ever seen and it's your contact pic smh. He has other ACTUALLY cute pictures of you on his phone but he's adamant that you look beautiful in all of them. If he's busy doing something, he'll pass his phone around to either his friends or Kotoha and the kids when he's home to keep you company. Kinda like those "Hey can you watch my boss for me for a second?" Tiktoks?

#Wind breaker #Wind breaker headcanons #Wind breaker x reader #I'm not tagging everyone sorry im tiiiiired #This is me btw im the chatterbox #i love being on the phone for hours its my love language. I actually suck at texting and shit im so dry most of the time #My all time highest score is about 6 hours for one call #also this is one of those ones where like....if i dont do headcanons for ur fav....just message me ill make them like SNAP #i have yet to get use to the chaos of discord ironically #i have to try harder though!!#oh i forgot my writing tag agian #mari writes

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carmenized-onions · 9 months ago

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Doing Too Much. | House Call

logline; Appliances can reach their breaking point, when you push them too far. Same goes for people.

[!!!] series history, this is the sixth; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth

[New Thing!!] Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin' added to.

portion; 4.8k

possible allergies; eatin' meat, besides that, we're pretty good actually. did somebody say calm before the storm....?

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns, but girl is said a couple times, i believe.)

After this chapter, I'm entering my era of couch hopping as I move to a new city n start a new job. I'm really excited for the chapter after this one, so hopefully I actually get time to write it-- But that's just my lil warning if you're left rereading for like two weeks </3 But I'll def be stalking my activity/inbox so please do yap to me

Monday morning. The next morning after everything. Well, closer to noon than morning, at this point. You’re supposed to have, what, a work ethic this week? After the most insane weekend of your life? No. You’re lazing around and doing fuck all. No matter who calls. Well… Not completely no matter, but like, most people.

When you check your phone, you’ve gotten a text at 6:43 A.M. Unknown number. Ah. Carmen. You put him in as Carmy, and put his nickname as ‘Mister New York’. Listen, old nicknames Mikey ingrained in your brain die hard.

It’s a simple text, deeply un-romantic.

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

Then, four lines of four perfect categories. Flawless. Purple first, even. The hardest category. And then,

‘Morning’

Stupid. Incredibly stupid, to be enamoured, by this. You reply,

‘Good morning!’

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

And then a failed jumble of coloured squares, you get one out of four categories. What the fuck is 'dogleg' and since when has it meant taking a sharp turn? You follow that up with,

‘Fuck you.’

Aside from Carmen, you’ve actually gotten texts from a couple people. Your boss at Eden’s asking if you’re alright. What the fuck did Cicero say? Oh well. You tell him you’ve ‘been better, been worse. Will be okay by next week.’ Perfectly vague, and you still get wired your cheque and tip out. Alright, maybe Uncle J does deserve your free labour.

Speaking of, the next text on your itinerary is from Uncle J, just info for the winter nuptials of Vinnie and Mira. Oh yeah. Three-hundred guests, you remember that part. You also remember him saying it’d be an ‘easy gig’… He did not mention you’d be the only bartender. This is going to be a nightmare. Oh well. You text back that despite it being an open bar you get to put out a tip jar. He just reacts to it, ‘haha’. That sounds like a yes to you.

And then, adorably, a selfie from Syd, wearing the collar and pins you’ve gifted her, under a green sweater. Cutie. You hype her up accordingly.

Besides some texting though, Monday is relatively unbusy. No calls. No emergencies. No businesses knocking down your door for your services. You’re thankful for a break, letting the inertia set in, finally being able to relax after fix after fix after—

Tuesday comes, you get sent another perfect round of New York Time’s Connections around half past six in the morning, along with a good morning text. And again, you fuck it up. You send him your Wordle results this time, as an act of rebellion. You then ask,

‘How’s reworking the menu going?’

‘Hard to say’

‘Ask me tomorrow’

God he’s an awful texter. Horrifically dry. You know you’re down bad beyond a belief when you find that endearing. You spend Tuesday drowning and pruning your plants after depriving them for so long.

Plus working on your art piece for Carmy. You’re pulling out old film photos, a canvas, and a load of bleach—It’s like high school art class all over again— Surprise surprise, the handyman who loves to up-cycle is a mixed media artist. Who could’ve guessed?

While trimming a photo, an exterior of The Beef, a picture frame on your wall falls down behind you, you tut, turning your head to it, chastising the air. “Mikey! It’s a copy, relax! I’ve still got the original print…”

There’s every chance you’re insane— No, you’re definitely insane. But you’re allowed to be, your best friend died, you’re allowed to talk to the air as if he’s still around. Sometimes the timing of doors swinging open for you and things falling down are just too uncanny to not be a ghost.

Wednesday arrives, and again, just after 6:40, Connections results. And the Wordle, this time; plus a ‘Good Morning’. It looks like this is simply just your thing, now. Every morning, the second both of you get up, you send each other puzzles and wish a good morning. You don’t mind that. It’s nice to have a ‘thing’, with someone. With Carmen.

Part way through the day, around two o’clock, you get another text. Two, actually. From Carmen, in quick succession.

‘Are you busy?’

‘Don’t worry if you’re busy. Can call Fak’

You’re quick to reply, frankly deeply offended.

‘Are you fucking firing me????’

‘I’m gonna get ready. Text me details’

While getting dressed, you watch three dots bubble, bubble, bubble… He’s taking forever, just don’t look at it, you’ll get anxious for no reason. No jumpsuit today, you’ve got to switch it up every now and again. Navy cargo pants with the perfect number of pockets and zippers, and an orange Chicago’s Kindest shirt, tucked in. Hm. Looking in the mirror, hickey is still there. Lighter, but there. Foundation? No. You’ll sweat it off and that’ll just bring up more questions. If Syd asks you’ll just tell her you fell down the stairs… On your neck. She's not the type to confront anything remotely sexual anyways.

Speaking of Syd, before Carmen can text you back, she calls you, which is fair— Don’t leave a Carmen to communicate. You stick your phone in the crux of your neck and answer while you pack your utility belt. This feels nearly nostalgic. “What’s fucked?”

Carmen is in the background; you can hear the tail end of a sentence, grumbling. “—Don’t call—”

“My life.” She responds without missing a beat. “And also, Carmy’s stove and oven.”

“Oh.” You squint. “What the fuck happened?”

“Overuse? I actually don’t fucking know, it just stopped working. We plugged it in and out— He even reset his apartment’s breakers. I dunno what’s wrong with it. It’s probably got something to do with him putting his fuckin’ jeans in there.”

“…He what?”

You can hear him in the background, again, clearer this time, grimacing, “What are you doing to me?”

Syd does not mind him at all, continuing, “I know! He’s fucking weird!”

“He’s extremely weird.” You like him a lot. “I’ll be over soon, were you guys like, mid-cooking?”

“Yessir.”

“Christ, alright… I think I have a dual burner hot plate laying around somewhere, you want me to bring it—”

They both speak clearly this time, together, “Please.”

You’ve got a pile of things to give to them anyways, and maybe you miss Carmy’s face. Just a little.

Instead of just buzzing you in, Carmy comes down for you. When he sees you through the door window, carrying a cardboard box, he almost breaks into a full run. He’s somehow opening the door, grabbing the box from your hands, and chastising you all at the same time. “You should’ve left it in the car, I would’ve—”

You step in through the entryway and kiss his cheek, cutting him short. You can’t help yourself, it’s the first time you’ve seen him since and you feel like a giddy teen. The teenage girl in your head is no longer just in your head, she’s fully manning the station. “You’re very sweet. But it’s also not heavy.”

When he continues to be frozen, the regret starts to mount, “Is—Sorry, is that okay to do—?”

“It’s very okay to do.” He manages to reply, with haste. Nodding to himself. “It’s good.” He nods again, then marches off, expecting you to follow to the elevator. You do.

“What floor?”

“Eighth.” He sniffs; you press the button. He stands next to you, looking you up and down. He astutely observes. “Orange.”

“Yeah.” You smirk, looking back at him, “Turns out, businesses can have two colours in their designs.”

What’s a little roasting of fellow small businesses between two not just friends?

“Oh yeah?” Coy, smirking. Oh no. You’ve gotta get the teen off the controls. He tilts his vision to stare at your jacket. Ah. You opted to wear your Carhartt instead of his jean jacket.

“Didn’t wanna give Syd more questions.” She already guessed you’re a sugar baby, you don’t want to wrap Carmen in on that too. Especially since ideally in a month or two he’ll be your boss. Hm. The Bear is going to need an HR.

He hums, nodding. “We’re not telling Syd?”

“What’s there to tell?” You grin, crossing your arms. “You suddenly have free time, Bear?”

He takes a beat, thinking, then just takes a deep frustrated yet amused exhale. “I’m gonna fuckin’…” He can’t think of a threat. “…Get you.”

You snort, “You’re gonna get me?”

“Fuck you—!” “You’re gonna fuckin’ get me, Bear?”

“I—” He tries to hold a straight face, it doesn’t work. “Yeah, I am.”

“Can’t wait.” You nod, grinning, turning back to the doors. “You told me to ask how menu’s going tomorrow.”

“I did.”

“It’s tomorrow.” The door dings, opening on the eighth floor; you step out together. He switches his grip to hold the box in one arm. Alright Biceps, we don’t need to brag here...

“It’s… We’re getting there.” He grimaces. “Syd’s recipes are always… Almost perfect.”

“Ah.” You nod, you know your friend well enough to know where this is going. “And she fucks up one thing hard?”

“Mhm.”

“And when you tell her it’s okay and give her a hand she just feels worse?”

He nods. A touch surprised you’re right on the dot so quickly. “Everything ends up perfect, but I think she’s finding the edits…”

“Demoralizing.” You walk down the hall together, he nods. “I know what she needs, I’ll find an in.”

“You always do.” He hums, you walk just a touch ahead of him, unknowingly walking past his door. He pulls you back by the back of your jacket, making you stumble back into him. This seems to be this villain’s intention; as when you turn around, he’s quick to grab your chin and kiss you.

“It’s very good.” He emphasizes, again, before opening his door and acting like everything’s totally normal and fine. Since when did he turn the tables and make you the desperate one? Son of a bitch.

Ah. Actually, subtract any attraction you had in this moment— He lives like this? Books on the floor, by the window. Jeans on the dinner table, because they were in the oven. The kitchen actually looks alright— You’re almost certain that’s purely for utilitarian purposes while they’re working on the menu. This motherfucker better have a bed frame or him asking you to sleep over would be downright offensive. God, he’s wonderful. God, you’re an idiot.

You find Syd at the table, moping, head in hands. Carmen sets the box down, sitting beside her. You pat the top of her head. She silently moves one of her hands to go over yours. You nod. The silent exchange of girls who know.

“Yeah?”

She nods, grumbling. “Yeah.”

Carmen has no fucking idea what’s happening and he’s never been more intrigued by a near wordless social interaction in his entire life. What? You’re not even making eye-contact. What the fuck is happening?

You fish through the box with your free hand, grabbing a pot. You place it in front of Syd. “Look.”

She peeks through her fingers. A tiny but flourishing nursery pot of basil sits before her. You speak. “You’re gonna hyper-fixate on this basil I’m gifting you, and then you’re gonna crack back into it with the dual burner until I’m done fixing the oven.”

She nods, putting her hands in her lap, “Yes, Chef.”

You pull out a second nursery pot, setting it down for Carmen. “For you.”

“What for?”

“Basil grows like a motherfucker and it’s getting unhinged. I need to start pawning off to people that’ll make good use of it. A-K-A, chefs.” You look at Syd, pointedly, “Talented chefs.”

You hand off the heating pad— Wrapped in brown paper with a card tied to it, to Carmen. “For Nat.” You add, when he looks confused, “Can’t imagine I’ll see her sooner than you will.”

He looks even more confused, when you hand him a spray bottle full of reddish water. It’s one of the good spray bottles, too. Continuous. Carmen wouldn’t know the difference, but you do. “Rosemary. —Water, that is.”

He squints; you clarify, gesturing to your own hair. “You mentioned, losing hair, so— Thought I’d make some, with the trimmings of rosemary I had. Got ginger and cloves in it, too.”

Why have you trapped him in hell? You’ve remembered such a specific off hand from days ago and acted on it? And he can’t express the grandiose level of affection he feels right now? Are you serious? You’re the devil. You’re absolutely the devil. He just coughs out a ‘thanks’.

“And, the pièce de résistance,” You pull out the old ass, boxed up double burner countertop stove. “A stovetop that ideally fuckin’ works. It was my single claim to fame in my college dormitory.”

Carmen’s already opening the box. Sydney smirks, curiosity peaked. “Was that legal?”

“You a fuckin’ RA?” You grin, poking her forehead. “It was not. And that’s exactly why everyone loved me— Didn’t serve them fuckin’ hot pockets.”

The configurations of Carmen’s apartment would be great for literally any occasion besides the current one. The kitchen is narrow, and so, when you pull out the stove to check the back, there’s an estimated no fucking room left for Carm and Syd, so they sit at the dinner table with your stove top. You’d think they’d look like they’re doing a cute hot pot. No. They look like two conflicted and confused twelve-year-olds working on a science project.

So do you, honestly. Wiring is definitely more your speed than plumbing, but if you’re being honest, this is the first oven you’ve worked on without your dad, and you’re having a hard time remembering everything. There’s a lot of embarrassed Googling on your phone, when you're sure they’re not looking. They can’t know you’re even slightly incompetent!

You’re pretty sure it’s just a couple damaged wires, fried from overwork— Easy fix, if you had wire. You don’t. Slightly harder fix. But soldering is your bitch really, you’re in your bag. You look stupid, wearing chunky goggles and a respirator, but you’re in your bag, baby! What’s that one saying? Skills make you hot? That’s not a saying.

But it is true. When Carmen’s able to peer into the kitchen, quickly looking over his shoulder when Syd takes a moment to write a measurement or direction down, you look stunning. Respirator and all. You just look correct there, in the kitchen. His kitchen. So stunning he feels guilty. Do you find it annoying? Constantly fixing errors behind him? Probably. You say it’s not a lot of work, but that can’t be true.

“How’s The Bear, ‘sides menu rework?” You ask, raising your voice in the kitchen.

“S’good.” Carmen. “I’m in hell.” Syd. Not hard to tell which statue is lying, here.

Syd stutters on, “Nat’s takin’ care of baby Michaela— Which is very good and—and cool, actually.”

“But?”

“But we’re back to handling the business side entirely ourselves, for like— The next month. Maybe two? Fuck, are we doing the wedding without her?” Sydney almost burns her sauce, Carmen’s quick to move it off the burner.

He mutters, “Don’t even start to think about it. It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.”

“Oh yeah, wedding— Have you gotten your menu yet?” You call from the kitchen, muffled by your respirator.

“Oh my god!” Sydney exclaims, and Carmen is wincing. She can’t tell you things are going wrong; doesn’t she know that? You’ll fix it, if things are wrong. You always fix it. Fix him. You’re gonna put him in your phone as Carmy Bad News. If you haven’t already. Start a support group with Tif.

Syd continues, “They’re so fucking particular and somehow also vague—Like, ‘we want salmon and chicken’ for main course— What kind of preparation? ‘Surprise us!’ Okay, how about roasted chicken—? ‘Mmmm, no, not that’. I’ve been told ‘non quello’ at least ten times in the last four days.”

No, you’re witty. Bad News Bear. Fuck, that’s definitely his name in your phone, isn’t it?

“Fuckin’ nightmare. Y’know, I’m the only fucking bartender? For like three hundred guests? Thank God they’re not asking for a custom cocktail or anything, I’d lose my shit.”

Sydney laughs, and she steps back into her flow easily, reducing the sauce without burning it, now. She looks more serene than she has in days. What? How are you doing that? What are you doing? Are you casting a spell?

“Can you even fucking imagine what their couples’ cocktail would be?”

You groan from the kitchen, laughing in return, “Not you too, Syd! Must you make me work!?”

“C’mon maestro, make a cocktail!”

“Bleh. Uh… They give long island iced tea energy, but it’s a wedding so— Like a boozier negroni?”

“That sounds fucking disgusting.”

“I didn’t say it’d be good, I said it’d be their couples’ cocktail.” You’re both giggling, like school girls. It’s like you said— You become teens, together.

Despite the fact that Syd is making an incredibly complex dish, and you’re fixing an oven—His oven— Ridiculing the other impossible tasks set out for the both of you… Despite all of that, you’re laughing.

Carmen is, what, nearly thirty? A restaurant owner, with a full crew, who attends Al-Anon, and is only now truly registering the power of an unsolvable burden being shared. Not fixed, shared. Talking. Laughing. God, this all comes so easy to you, doesn’t it?

You finish soldering, test each burner, and the oven— All working, thank God. You quietly cheer in the kitchen, removing your respirator and goggles. “We’re good here! Fixed!”

“C’mere!” Syd calls out to you, and so you do. Eagerly. She hands you a fork. Unprompted, she does the thing. You’d missed the OG, really.

“Beef Oxtail, pressed in a Foie Gras casing, seared. Basted in a King Oyster mushroom sauce. Pureed greens on the side.”

“I never know what the fuck you’re saying.”

She pushes the side of your face with the palm of her hand. “Put it in your mouth and chew.”

You want to make some sort of kink joke, but you respect the already struggling man in the room and take a bite. Hm. Hm. You put a finger over your mouth, swallowing. “...Now it might just be my unrefined palate.”

“That’s why we have you try it.” Carmen pipes in. Syd nods, following. “It’s important to know the baseline.”

“…It’s got like,” You hand the fork to Syd so she can try it, while you think. “A bit of a bitter aftertaste? Which might be the… goal?”

Syd spits it out the second it touches her mouth, she shouts your name, your actual name— A rarity. She’s so terrified that she forgets the Walk-In bit she’s been in on all week. “I just fuckin’ poisoned you— Oh my god?! Are you good? That was— Fuck! You swallowed that?!”

She grabs your face like a concerned mother, also maybe to check if you have superpowers, you’re not sure. All you know is there’s a golden opportunity to make another sex joke and you have to hold back. Life is so unfair.

Carmen takes a quick taste, also spitting it out. “I’ve got it, Chef, don’t sweat.” Immediately looking to the drafted recipe card to see where they went wrong.

Syd almost squeezes your cheeks like a stress ball but thinks better of it, letting go, groaning, beyond frustrated at this point. “You shouldn’t have to fix it— I should fuckin’ have it, at this point.”

Carmen's trying to ignore how much he relates to the sentiment. He's not the focus, right now.

“We make mistakes, Chef—” “Syd.” You snap your fingers, pointing to her, interrupting Carmen. “Can you help me grab something, from my car? It’s kinda big.”

Carmen’s quick to chime in, already going to untie his apron, “I can—”

“No!” You look at him pointedly, trying to communicate through look alone. He kind of gets it? “It’s… Girl stuff.”

Syd squints. “You need me to help you carry a big girl thing?”

“…Are you fuckin’ helping or are you gonna poke holes?”

“What are you actually dragging me out for?”

“Technically I do actually need your help grabbing something, it’s just not a girl thing. And it's also not from my car.”

“Oh?”

You walk out of Carmen’s building with his keys, and gesture out to every apartment buildings treasure trove— The spot everyone throws their furniture when they move out and don’t know what else to do with it.

“Bookshelf!” There is actually one pristine looking bookshelf, a cheap one, definitely just something from IKEA. But it’s better than the fucking floor. “I spotted it on my way in, we’re gonna bring it up for Carm.”

She groans, hating the concept of manual labour, but still walks with you and grabs one end anyways. “Why didn’t you make Carmen carry his own bookshelf?”

“Because you need a fuckin’ pep-talk.” You pick the other end of the bookshelf up. It’s thankfully not that heavy. You walk backwards so you can keep facing Syd.

“…I don’t—” “Yes the fuck you do.”

She kisses her teeth, you frown. “What’s up, Adamu?”

“It’s just fucking annoying— I keep, I keep fucking it up. I keep—Keep—”

“Doing too much.”

She gives you a look, ‘are you serious?’, type look. You continue. “You’re doing too much. You’re not cooking like you.”

“I can cook like Michelin—”

“I never said you couldn’t. Watch your step.” You interrupt, walking over a bump in the sidewalk. “You can do star level shit, Syd. But that’s a grade, not a type.”

She kind of reels, at that. You continue, “You cook great complex dishes, you always have, I’ve tried them. But now, you’re all caught up trying to prove some shit, to Carmen, to—to— Who gives stars? The tires guy?”

She laughs, almost dropping the bookshelf. “Yeah, I’m trying to impress the tires guy.”

“Fuck you.” You snort, stepping up the stairs. “What I’m trying to say is, you should make what you want to eat, not what you think you should eat.”

She nods, you stop on top of the stairs, both taking a second to breathe. “…Thanks.”

You nod back, hands on your knees for a second before standing back up, opening the lobby door. “I’ll always be your cheerleader, Syd.”

“More like coach.”

“Can you let me have one hot girl career, please?”

When you get back up to Carmen’s, he’s already grimacing. You and Syd are split apart by the bookshelf standing between you in the hall. “Fuck is this?”

“It was free and I’ll clean it!” You press your hands together pleading. “C’mon, you can even put your jeans in it!”

“Jeans on a bookshelf?”

You turn to Syd. “Better than the oven.”

“I think he’s doing that to dry them.”

“I think it’s ‘cause he doesn’t own a dresser.”

“It’s both.” Carmen clicks his tongue, single-handedly picking up the bookshelf and carrying inside. Alright, does he need to show off this much? Whatever. It’s definitely not making you feel any type of way at all.

You squint, watching him walk further in his apartment, and then to Syd. You speak at the same time. “He stays doing too much.”

As promised, you wipe down the bookshelf, making sure it’s free of grime and roadside pests. Syd and Carmy work together in the kitchen, with a now functioning oven. You load the shelf up with the books on the floor— Thankfully they’re piled into categories already, so you don’t have to bother him about that.

You’re tempted to clean his living room, but that would probably be rude, right? Don’t want him to take it as you saying he’s a slob. But they are taking a while… Alright, you’ll just throw out trash. You won’t fold blankets or pick up dishes or anything. Just trash! No big! He can’t be mad at you for that.

You pile together the garbage, then sneakily throw it out in the kitchen trash can as fast as you can, before he looks. He’ll think he’s just sleep cleaning, or something. “How’s it goin’ in here?’

Carmen pipes up, eyes focused on the dish as Syd plates it. “Good.” Syd holds the plate in one hand, and silently corrals you with the other to sit at the table. You do. She sets it down the plate before you, handing you a fork and knife.

You look up at her expectantly. She shakes her head. “Eat first, this time.”

She looks serious, so you nod, cutting into the dish. It’s different from the last one. Instead of oxtail, it’s pastry. Or at least, a puff pastry exterior. You’re pretty sure it’s Pillsbury, you remember Carmen buying that, the other day, on your excursion.

Inside it, you believe is the beef oxtail, there’s other things, too. Some sort of sauce, some greens— Oh well, no time to bask in the cross section because Syd looks like she’s about to explode. You take a bite. You nod, chewing.

Syd starts, “Searing the duck caused the bitter taste— So instead of- Of searing the outside, I coated it in the mushroom sauce, the greens— Not pureed, this time, for texture. Your basil, too. There’s a crumble of feta, for a subtle tang. And then wrapped it all together in puff pastry, and baked. It’s sort of like, a varied take on a beef welling—”

“You made a fucking gourmet hot pocket?” You swallow, wheezing. The second you say this, Sydney’s focused face beams, laughing, like she’s just pulled off the most perfect prank of all time.

Carmen was so intrigued and focused on Sydney’s explanation, that you watering it down to hot pocket and being right makes his entire system reboot. He cannot stop smiling, aghast. He's been helping Syd make a hot pocket for the past hour?

“I told you to make what you want and—” wheeze “—you make a fucking hot pocket?!” You double down, laughing with her, she’s trying to defend herself but she can’t stop wheezing in tandem.

“I— I can’t fuckin’ stand you!” You snort, covering your face with your arm. “I hate your ass, oh my God, Syd.”

“Did—” snort “What did you think?” She recovers, slowly but surely.

You shake your head, handing her the fork. “It’s sick, Syd, obviously, it’s fucking perfect… Chef.” You tack on at the end, almost forgetting. “I’m not gonna be able to have an actual hot pocket, ever again. You’ve ruined my life.”

She takes a bite for herself, nodding. She does a small cheer, pumping her fist. “Let’s fucking go.” She points her fork at you— Purely on muscle memory, and you both instantly remember the days of her testing out recipes and you pairing them on first taste. She’d point her fork to you like a microphone. It was a fun game between two nerds.

It’s a reflex response for you, even now. “Barolo. Savory, dry, red. A young one, though. Light body. Could also do an Amarone, if you’re not buried in money.”

She hands the fork off to Carmy to try it, then writes the pairings down, mumbling, amusement still in her voice. “How the fuck do you do that?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think I have some wires crossed.”

“Fire, Chef.” Carmen swallows his bite. “We cannot call it a hot pocket on the menu.”

“Then what’s the point!?”

Leaving Carmen’s place is objectively the most awkward experience— But also the funniest. You offer to wait for Syd and drive her home— You’ll need a second to pack anyways while they make their business plans.

When you do offer, of course, Carmen stutters short, almost asking you again to sleep over or at the very least stay late, but saves it, realizing himself.

Syd accepts the ride offer. You pack up and wait for her to be done. When she is, Carmen offers to carry your things down with you both, in which Syd accuses him of thinking you’re both weaklings— He does not have a defense case for this, he has to let you go. You can tell he wants to kiss you at the door, and you do too. Sadly, you’re equally down bad, but he can’t know that…

You say your goodbyes, Syd helps you load your tools and hotplate in the trunk of your car. Your phone vibrates. Text from Mister New York.

‘Look up I’m on the balcony. 8 floors.’

You look up, sure as shit, he’s out there, cigarette in mouth. Unlit. He waves, you wave back. He texts again, in rapid succession.

‘Thank you’

‘For helping Syd’

‘And the oven and the hot plate and the bookshelf (not necessary)’

‘nbd + I think it’s v necessary’ Does Carmen understand acronyms? You’re risking it, here.

‘and cleaning my trash’ Sonofabitch.

‘ah fuck. I don’t think you’re messy!!! I just wanted to help!!!’

‘I know. You’re you. Be safe.’

Oh goddammit, stupid dry texter, saying something so gah. You jump as Syd taps the roof of your car behind you, getting your attention. Watching from a far distance, Carmen laughs, though you don’t notice it.

“Are we going?”

“Yes! Sorry!” You hurriedly pocket your phone, waving one last time as you get in your car. Syd sits beside you in shotgun, her pot of basil sat safely in her lap. You drive off.

You’re half way down the road, when Syd pipes up again. “So y’all are fucking, correct?”

You almost brake check the guy behind you.

“How do you fuckin’ do that!?”

the opening is dedicated to my dear friend and i who have sent our wordle results to each other everyday for the past like year and a half.

Things of note, one - people usually skip the shit up top-- I made a spotify playlist! Listen if you like, I'm not your dad.

Two, I know this is a self insert right, i know what I set myself up for-- Do you know the hell i am in as a syd x carmy girl writing scenes with both of them and it NOT being them? What have I done, to myself? The only coping mechanism I have is imagining in this universe Syd is a lesbian. And that is helping.

The hot pocket recipe-- Who fucking knows, if that would taste good? I think it would? In theory? I fucked with a dish from Daniel NYC, to make it into a bit. Would it work? ....Beef wellingtons do, I can't see why this can't???? Idk man.

Rosemary water w cloves and ginger does fucking work btw. I am part of the so stressed out i lost my hair brigade. Also basil does grow like a motherfucker.

We're seein' a little bit of that tenseness that comes with being in an 'almost relationship' both of them feel like they've got something they can fuck up now. Poor birds. They'll be okay. Probably.

I'm really excited for the next chapter, I don't wanna give shit away, but it's gonna be,,,,,, different. I haven't seen anyone try this kinda formatting on tumblr before, and I'm excited to see what you think. Between my moving and how complex the choreography of it is gonna be, it's gonna be a much longer minute between this chapter and the next, I fear. But listen, you already knew your ass was gettin' spoiled with a chapter every two days. Hehe.

As always, please come yap to me in the replies/inbox/dms/reblogs. I love to hear thoughts!! It sustains me, baby!!

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear fx #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x female reader

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lillaydee · 16 days ago

Text

Head Over Heels

Jackson!Joel / Reader

Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.

You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.

WARNING:

Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.

MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.

@copperhalfcent @joelalorian @vickie5446 @peelieblue @nandan11

SERIES MASTER LIST

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***Okay I know I said 21/1/2025 but I'm weak, okay? The next chapter will be uploaded Wednesday. Twice weekly. Yes. I can do this. I can stick to a schedule. Yes. I can. I can too stick to a schedule. Yes. I definitely can.

😳😳😳

Also, please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or be removed from it. Hope you like the story.***

---

You will never forget that day. You were on a bus going back home. Your Papa called you at work. Your Mama’s cancer was back, and the prognosis was not good this time. She had beaten it once when you were five, you didn’t remember much from that time, and again when you were 12, but apparently, by the time they found this one, 13 years later, it had spread. Your Mama decided against treatment, wanting to live the last of her days anywhere but in bed recuperating from yet another chemo.

That was why you were going back. To try to talk her out of it. She had a year left, at best, maybe two or three with aggressive chemo, but no, Elena, I’m done, she had told you. You kids are grown, I’m a happy Mama, please, let me live what’s left of my life happy, let me live among you, not in bed being sick, counting the days death comes for me.

No. You packed up your desk and told your boss you needed a few days. You worked in the city, a few hours’ drive away from home. Nothing special, just a secretary. Not like the world would collapse if you took a few days off.

Alas, it did collapse. While you were on the bus. You remembered how the smooth ride just… veered. There were people running everywhere. The bus got trapped between crashed cars and people just started… losing their minds. You remembered just grabbing your bag and gunning it for the forest next to the highway, your survival instinct just kicked in.

There were a few people with you, one was an FBI agent. Marcus, he told you. Those first couple of days you travelled with him and others, he made a few calls, found out what they thought happened. You managed to call your house with his phone once, telling your father you were on your way. Your brothers were on deployment, and your parents hadn’t heard from them since the whole thing happened. The next day, everything shut down. No cell service, no electricity, no nothing. All the advancements the world had worked towards for hundreds of years just sort of stopped.

In those ten days you travelled with this group, you watched as common social etiquettes and civilisation collapsed, even if just among the few of you. The perfectly nice, caring, considerate, selfless people who gave the clothes off their backs to help strangers suddenly turned into snatchers and robbers out of pure desperation and loss of hope.

Not to say you were any less guilty. You stole too, you had to. But you tried, at least, not to kill anyone who was still human while doing it. Marcus protected you as best as he could, but even he got more and more ruthless as the days went by.

You were thankful growing up with two older brothers then. They had forced you into taking every martial arts classes you could get into, Benny sparring with you every chance he got, Will encouraging from the sidelines. They wanted their sister growing up tough, they said. No men will ever take their little sister down without a fight. They took you out camping, roughing it every time, wanting you to be okay should the needs arise. Despite your many tantrums and eye rolls, you went along with their demands. You looked up to them. You mourned the days they joined the army, looking forward to them coming home. Every time, they had a new skill to teach you, still wanting to make sure their sister was as safe as you could be, even if they were not around. But the one thing they refused to let you do was enlist. No Elena. We taught you these things to keep you safe, not to have you running head on into this life we didn’t want in the first place.

You spent the nights talking to Marcus, getting to know him more and more, and when the day came for you to go your separate ways 15 days later, he begged you to go with him, to not separate. No, you told him. You needed to get home to your family. You needed to know. He couldn’t come with you, he himself needed to find his own family. His Mama was alone, he needed to get to her. The world had gone to shit, everyone needed to restart. So the two of you went your separate ways, but not before he took you in his arms and kissed you, telling you how much he wished he had met you in a different world. It took everything in you to pull away from him, and he stood there watching you walk away until you disappeared from his sight.

**********

You got home four days later to an empty neighbourhood. You ran into your house hoping for a miracle, but your parents were nowhere to be found. No one was anywhere to be found. You walked around the cul-de-sac looking for someone, anyone, a person who could at least tell you what the fuck happened, to no avail.

You were about to walk back into your house when the sound of a gun cocking stopped you. You immediately raised both your hands, telling whoever it was not to shoot.

“Miller Girl? Elena?”

You turned around, willing yourself to go slowly, and came face to face with your reclusive neighbour, Bill. He was a bit… odd… so you didn’t want to chance it. You kept your hands up, asking him if he knew what happened to your parents.

He lowered his gun slightly, telling you to go inside. He followed, looking around to make sure no one else was around.

“You alone?”

You nodded.

He sat across from you, gun still in his hands, his eyes looking around for any threats. He told you the army came five days ago. Took everyone, your parents included, off to God knows where. So far, the neighbourhood didn’t have much threat from those things, he told you. He killed maybe ten in these two days. He planned to lay low for a day or two more, and then he’s going to start setting up.

Setting up?

Yeah, he said. Get supplies. Raid the stores, get fuel, build up a storage for everything. Water, food, medicine, guns, ammo.

Okay Bill, you said, remembering all the rumours you had heard about the guy. Although, that was a good idea, when you think about the shit you saw in the last three weeks or so.

Then he asked when you were planning to leave.

Huh?

“I’m not leaving. Where the fuck would I go?”

“Well, you can’t stay here.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I haven’t got the time nor the will to take care of some girl.”

“And who, exactly, asked you to do that?”

He stood there, raising his gun at you. You didn’t care. If the world had gone to pot, maybe he was doing you a favour. He eventually left in a huff.

You went about collecting your own supplies, though limiting yourself to the area. You were a woman, a lone woman, threats to you were more than just those things and men robbing you. So you made do with the smaller stores and pharmacies in the cul-de-sac, the houses in it, you went through them all. You siphoned the fuel out of the cars, got the guns and ammos from the houses you knew had some, got whatever you needed to basically live for a few weeks. You’ll think of the next few weeks after that next week, you thought.

Bill either left those places for you to raid, or avoided you, huffing every time he saw you. He had gone all out, not that you were surprised, he would drive out and not come home for hours, always coming back with his truck full of supplies, even bringing home a boat at one point. He’d had… a reputation, let’s just say, since you had known him. His late mom was always nice to you, but he was an odd one. Benny told you there were rumours that he dug a secret basement under his basement. He’s a prepper, apparently, believing since he could form an opinion that the world was going to shit. And when it did, he would be ready.

Well, he wasn’t wrong there.

You stayed out of his way but couldn’t help but keep an eye out for him. Having him across the street made you feel safer, less alone, as cuckoo as he might be. One day, about a month in, having not heard him putter about for a couple of days, you got worried. His truck was there, but he was nowhere to be seen. So you armed yourself with a gun and a couple of pistols, a baseball bat too, just in case, and went over. The door was locked, obviously. You went around looking for an opened door, a window, and saw the bathroom window upstairs slightly cracked open.

Here was when Benjamin Miller’s climbing lessons turned out to be a good thing, despite the broken arm that resulted. You climbed up the gutter pipe and went inside. The house was dusty, but otherwise rather clean. You went from bedroom to bedroom, and finally found him, shivering in bed, almost delirious from a ridiculously high fever.

He was so out of it, he didn’t even protest when you tended to him. You did as best as you could, giving him medicine, getting his temperature down, making sure he ate something, sleeping on the floor in his bedroom just in case he needed you. Took you days, but you woke up one day to him sitting up in bed, sweating profusely, gun pointed at you. You rolled your eyes at him and told him you’ll be back with some food for him.

He kept his gun on you throughout the day, but cooperated, nonetheless. You didn’t even speak to him, per se, unless it was to tell him to eat or drink something. A couple of days after that, he was feeling better, able to move around and take care of himself, so you went home, sending him meals for a further few days, just to make sure he had something to eat.

For about a week after that, things went back to normal. The two of you went back to ignoring each other in relative peace and harmony. Until one day when there was a knock on your door, him standing a good distance from the door when you opened it, asking you if you wanted to come with him to scavenge a chain store. Might as well, he said.

And that was how you and Bill became friends.

Well, sort of, if friends worked together and never talked to each other unless it was discussing how to fortify the area.

As much as Bill was the stoic man he was with you, you sort of knew he cared about you. Always had your back. Checked on you daily. If you were late in answering the door, he would come in, making sure you were okay. You slept in once and woke up to him prodding you with his gun, grumbling that he thought you were dead as he walked away when he saw you were awake. You lost count of the amount of times you opened your front door to see firewood stacked up on your porch, or dead rabbits or pigeons on your doorstep, or some delicious stew he had concocted. Say what you want about the man, but he could cook.

He was your neighbour Bill. And he sort of cared for you, just as you sort of cared for him. You and he got along just fine, so long as you left each other alone.

**********

Frank joined the two of you a few years later. Frankly you were shocked Bill allowed him to stay. But you understood. He was lonely. And as much of a sort of company you were to him, he never saw you the way he saw Frank. You were the little girl he grew up around, you were Will and Benny Miller’s little sister. And Frank… well, he was his soulmate. Didn’t take you long to figure that out.

Having Frank around was like a breath of fresh air. He was just a shining ray of positivity. Very unlike Bill. You felt like you had the best of both worlds since Frank came into the picture. A friend, and a protector.

Frank was also, you found out really quickly, Bill’s Achilles Heel, apparently. Cause suddenly lawnmowers were no longer a waste of resources, neither was making the place a bit more… presentable. You and Frank would spent hours gardening, making the place look better, chattering endlessly, with Bill loitering somewhere near doing whatever it was he was doing, and you and Bill would go on rounds checking the perimeter, the traps and everything else, making sure things worked. You knew how it all worked, obviously, you helped the man build everything.

But the most shocking change of all, was the fact that there were people visiting for lunch, a couple from the Boston QZ apparently. Bill had somehow persuaded you to stay out of sight, just in case the two attacked, you would be the next, unseen line of defence, much to Frank’s chagrin. But you told Frank it was okay, give him this, you know what a big deal it was for him to open up the place for strangers. He’s not wrong, if you think about it.

So there you were, perched on a treehouse in one of the neighbourhood front yards, hidden from view with a camo blanket and a sniper gun, watching as the couple walked in.

And that was the first time you set your eyes on Joel Miller.

**********

When you first saw him, you felt like time stood still. It was like seeing a ghost. He looked so much like Marcus. You had often wondered what happened to him. If he got to where he was going. If he was alive after all these years. But of course, you later found out his name was Joel Miller, from Austin. No relations to you, obviously, despite the similar surname. He had a brother named Tommy. And that he was a contractor, not an FBI agent. It took a few more visits over a whole year before Bill trusted the couple enough to introduce you to them. And even then, the first meeting wasn’t exactly planned, nor the most… conventional of meetings.

You were on that treehouse as usual. Frank was taking them to the boutique down the road, and they had to walk past the treehouse to get there. As they got closer, you saw Bill, who was walking behind Joel, look at you. He gestured with his head for you to come out. So you jumped down, landing to Joel’s right side.

He was startled, taking a step back and ended up falling backwards, rolling head over heels before ending up on his knees, gun cocked and aimed at you. You stood over him, gun aimed right back at him, Bill with his own pointed at Joel, shouting at him to put his gun down. You and Joel were at a standstill, neither willing to disarm, until Frank swatted the gun away from him, telling you to stand down.

You straightened as Joel got back up, taking the camo blanket off your head. When he realized you were a woman, his expression changed. He picked his gun up and stood there, eyes away from you, as Frank introduced you to the two of them.

“Our neighbour, the closest thing we have to family, Elena Miller,” he said. Joel’s head turned slightly at the mention of your last name. He nodded in acknowledgment, but his eyes were surveillant of the surroundings, in case more of you would pop out.

Tess, the woman, stepped forward, having stood in shock as the whole thing took place. She shook your hand, telling you how impressed she was that you managed to shock Joel Miller. She was tough, but friendly. She wore the pants, apparently, Joel was merely her guard dog. She did the talking, and Joel loitered, watching, but never participating. That first day you were introduced, you felt as if he was watching you the entire time, but every time you turned, his eyes were always somewhere else. Bill’s, as usual, were always on him.

As the visits got more and more regular, things with Joel never changed. In those first few years, you heard Joel speak maybe five times, never to you. He wasn’t a talker. He was Bill the Second, basically, seen, but not heard.

Every time they visited, you and Tess would spend some time together, and you felt normal again for a few hours. It was nice, having a woman to talk to. Joel would loiter when you and Tess hung out or do business with Frank, but generally, he stayed away from you, just watching from afar.

She told you things. Her husband, her son, Joel’s daughter, and you, in return, told her about your parents and brothers. You mentioned Marcus maybe once, in passing. Marcus was, as far as you were concerned, an unmentionable. You couldn’t live your life wondering about him. You needed to let go.

She told you the arrangement she had with Joel. They were… together… sort of. He was not her boyfriend per se. Just a trusted friend. A partner. Someone she trusted with her life. He was… damaged. His life ended when his daughter died. He wouldn’t let anyone in, and Tess wasn’t going to try. She loved him, you could tell. But she loved him enough for herself to not want to force his hand, she would rather be in this one sided lovefest than lose him. She knew if she told him how she felt, he would leave. So she didn’t.

Over the years, when the two visited, Tess would bring you stuff. Trinkets. A wooden carving of your name, at first, tied to a piece of black string. You used it as a keychain. A bracelet next, a series of wooden dices with your name carved into them, a letter each, followed by a necklace of similar style. Your happiness must have been obvious, she always looked so happy whenever you put the things she brought you on. If they got damaged, she would ask for them back and brought you a replacement the next time she was there. If you talked about missing a certain book or movie every now and again, she would bring them to you, and never asked for anything in exchange. And every single time, Joel remained at a distance, just watching, in case you decided to attack his woman.

You had two brothers in your new life with Bill and Frank, and a friend in Tess.

Joel was your… you were not even sure.

You couldn’t help yourself sometimes. He reminded you so much of Marcus, but all you could do was steal a look every now and again. He was not Marcus. You knew this. Of course, eventually, you stopped thinking about Marcus when you look at him, and he became just Joel.

But that in itself presented another problem.

The five of you would have your meals together when they visited, and every single time, after Tess and Joel left, you spent the night crying yourself to sleep. The sight of the two couples together, even Tess and Joel, the two who had never shown any physical romance at all, made your heart ache. He may not declare his love for her, may not hold her hand, but he showed her he loved her in his own way every single day. You saw how protective he was of her, how he always had her back.

You wondered if push comes to shove, would anyone come to your rescue? Would Bill choose to save you over Frank?

So you went to bed after every one of these visits and cried. Cried about how lonely you were. Cried that there was no one there for you, and only you. Cried that you were doomed to live in this fucked up world a tagalong in someone else’s perfect relationships.

Inevitably, you developed a helpless crush on Joel.

Then again, your life revolved around four people. One was a woman, two were gay and might as well be your brothers, and the other one was taken. But even the blind could see Joel Miller was an attractive man. And apart from the old pictures in the magazines you managed to sneak from Frank’s private stash, Joel was the only living, breathing man you had access to, albeit only mentally, in Fantasyland. Tess was a sweetheart, you wouldn’t do that to her. You would never act on it, of course, you were raised better than that. But you couldn’t tell her you thought of her man every time you rutted yourself against your pillow at night. So you indulged. Stole some looks for later use, studied his arms and imagined what it would feel like being held in those arms. What it would feel like to kiss him. A harmless crush, one that you could never, would never act on. You promised every time he visited it would be the last time, but you couldn’t help yourself. Heck, he was the only man around you could crush on. There was literally no one else.

It got to a point that you had to deliberately stay away from him. You were convinced that people could see. That Tess could see. Frank could see. So you conveniently found other things to do whenever he was around, far away from him. Tess would always come find you, sans Joel, so things were okay for a while.

It wasn’t as if the man had ever looked at you anyway. In fact, you were convinced that he hated you. He never spoke to you, never looked your way, and managed to make you feel as if you didn’t exist whenever he was around.

One day, Joel came alone. He had a bit of a limp, having snagged his foot on a root on his way over. He stayed over for two nights in Bill and Frank’s guest room to rest his ankle. You were working on a new vegetable garden then, the weather just turned, and it was the perfect time to plant. What you did not count on was that Frank was feeling rather under the weather, and Joel came out to help you instead. For two whole days, he helped you plant seeds and watered the ground. You made sure never to look at him, scared out of your mind that you might do the unthinkable. Not that there was a chance, anyway, he stayed away from you, never talking the whole time.

But being alone with him… it wasn’t helping. Each grunt or heavy breath he produced was making you imagine things, feel things.

He’s with Tess, you kept telling yourself. Don’t.

The day he finally left, you cried for hours. You just felt so fucking frustrated. So lonely. You lived in a world where there were more infected than there were humans, and you had access to a handful of people, only one who you were attracted to, and there was nothing you could do about it. You had exactly four friends in this world, and acting on your desires would mean losing at least one friend. And Tess’s friendship meant more to you than anything in this fucked up world.

The last time you saw Tess, she said something to you after a whole day of you ignoring Joel’s presence, and he yours, yet again, after almost 15 years of knowing each other. She was hugging you goodbye, and whispered to you – “You know, we have been lucky thus far, but our luck might run out sooner or later. You should be nicer to Joel. He’s really not a bad guy if you give him a chance. Cause you never know, this might be the last time you saw him, and if something happens to him, you don’t want to regret being an asshole to him, right?”

You remember giving her an annoyed look, rolling your eyes at her.

“The man hates me, Tess. Let him hate me in peace, and I, him.”

She laughed and gave you a big smacking kiss on your cheek before leaving. That was the last time you saw your good friend Tess.

**********

That day Frank didn’t feel too well didn’t stop. He never got better. You helped care for him, kept his spirits up, but you could tell that as the years went by, there were less and less of it to keep up. Joel and Tess helped, bringing him medicine, anything that could help make him more comfortable, but eventually, the inevitable would happen.

Bill came to see you one day, telling you that he and Frank were having a romantic dinner that night. He brought you a plate. It was a special meal, he said. He asked that you come over in the morning and help him with Frank. Of course, you said, don’t I always, Bill? He nodded slowly, looking at you with a different expression than you had ever seen him with before.

“You know, I never thanked you for saving me when we first started,” he said.

“Oh, come on Bill, you’re not getting all sappy on me now are you?”

He laughed a little, shaking his head.

“Glad to have you in my life kiddo,” he said, taking a step back to leave. You were about to close the door when he came back, pulling you in for a hug. It startled you. 20 years since the outbreak, 45 since you were born and lived across the street from him. And your neighbour Bill just hugged you for the first time.

“Love you kiddo,” he said, his eyes glistening.

“Love you too, Bill,” you replied, still shocked by his gesture. He nodded, gave you a teary smile and walked home. “See you tomorrow!” you called out, but he just turned his head slightly and kept walking.

**********

You found them the next morning, lying in each other’s arms, looking so peaceful you couldn’t help but sit and stare at them for hours. Bill left you a letter, telling you everything that had happened. Frank’s request, the pills, the wine, the wedding, all of it, telling you he already sent the radio signal to Joel and Tess – they should be here as soon as they could. Please stay with them, Elena, here or otherwise. He’s sorry he was being selfish and leaving you alone. But he couldn’t imagine a life without Frank, and he was too weak to say no to his love’s one request.

Be safe, Elena, find people again. Be free. Love again.

You buried them near the strawberries. Took you a while, but you got it done, eventually. You sat with them for a long, long time, feeling like the life you knew had gone. You realized that you didn’t even mourn your parents or brothers like this, seeing as you didn’t know exactly what happened to them. The likelihood that they had survived was slim to none, but you hoped. Somewhere in your heart, you hoped. Until you know for sure, you hoped. But with Bill and Frank…

You sat with them every day since then, wondering what would happen next. Wondering if Tess and Joel would even show. You remember Tess telling you it takes about two days to get here by foot. You were even wondering what you would do if and when they did show up. Would you even want to go with them? Go where? From what you understood, the QZ was not exactly safe. And there had been rumours that QZs were about to be obsolete. Frank left one years ago, so why would you go running to one? Might as well stay here and wait to die. At least you get to die somewhere familiar, where you loved, where you were loved.

You could ask them to stay. At least you wouldn’t be alone. And then what? Watch the two of them live the life you would never have? The way you watched Bill and Frank? At least you were not pining for either of them. But watching Joel, your long time crush, live happily ever after with the woman you considered your best friend across the street from you? The thought alone made your lips tremble and your heart cold.

You laughed out loud at the thought. You were a 45 year old woman. Having a crush. Like a silly little girl. On a man who was so closed up, hated you, and would never reciprocate. A man who didn’t even openly love the woman he’d been with for the past 15 or odd years. Stupid.

The sounds of the gate opening snapped you out of your stupor. You got up and slowly made your way to the gate. As you turned the corner, you saw him. With a teenage girl. No Tess in sight. He was looking around, clocking in the less than perfect area. You and Bill ran behind the upkeep of late, Frank needing more attention than the potted plants and lawns. He saw you and said something to the girl. When the two of you finally faced each other, you saw it. The empty look in his eyes. And he saw the same in yours. No words were needed. You both nodded, lips trembling a little, before he introduced you to Ellie, the teenager with him. You invited the both of them over to your place, made sure they had something to eat, let them rest and shower. You waited on your porch – still mulling what to do, now that Tess was no longer in the picture.

The door opened, and Joel came out, two cups of coffee in his hands. He sat in the chair next to yours. The two of you just sat in silence, drinking your coffees, silently mourning the three people you had both known and come to rely on in this life after the outbreak.

“She got bit,” he told you.

“They took pills.”

You both nodded.

“What now?” he asked. “What’s your plan?”

“I don’t know. Bill asked me to go with you and Tess, or ask you guys to stay, so… it’s up to you, I guess. It’s okay if you don’t want me tagging along. I’ll be fine.”

“The girl,” he said, “Ellie, she’s immune.”

Your head snapped towards him.

“She got bit three weeks ago, and the wound just healed. She got bit again yesterday, so did Tess. Tess’s wound spread, hers remained a scratch.”

You kept quiet, processing this information in your head.

“We were hired to take her to the Fireflies, they were taking her up north for some testing, maybe come up with a cure, but the Fireflies are gone. So now she’s with me, and I don’t know what to do with her. Tess told me to take her here, but now…”

“Where were you planning to go if Bill and Frank had still been here?”

“Look for Tommy. He’s in Wyoming somewhere, Jackson.”

“Well… rest, decide, let me know,” you said, getting up. You stopped at the door, telling him that you were sorry for his loss.

He nodded, thanking you, before telling you he’s sorry for yours.

“Sorry for our loss,” you said, and he nodded, before quickly turning his head the other way, drinking his coffee with shaking hands.

**********

After dinner, he came to find you. He was taking Ellie with him. Tommy might know where the Fireflies were headed.

You nodded.

“Come with us,” he said. “I don’t feel good about leaving you here all alone.”

“Why? Cause I’m a woman?”

“Come on, I don’t mean it like that... It’s just… Ellie… she might need you.”

“Cause I’m a woman?”

He huffed a frustrated breath, looking like he was about to implode.

You laughed softly in return, “Just pulling your leg Miller.”

His lips twitched slightly.

You took a deep breath.

“I just don’t see how that would work out though. We hardly know each other, and you hate my guts. I’m struggling to see how you would trust me enough to have your back on the road. I don’t even know if you would want to have my back. I might slow you down. I don’t know, Joel.”

He stared at you a while.

“Well,” he said, getting up. “I’m gonna start prepping for tomorrow. Can I at least take what I need? Bill’s car? Some food and clothes?”

You nodded.

He called Ellie out. The teenage girl came bounding out, smiling shyly at you.

“Think about it,” he said, beckoning Ellie to go with him.

You thought about it as you laid in bed that night, Ellie in your guest bedroom, Joel in your brother’s old room. 20 years since the outbreak. 20 years you had been in the safety of these fences. Sure, you helped defended it, and Bill taught you well. Not to mention your brothers way back when. You could take care of yourself. Everyone who survived outbreak day had to learn somehow. But the thought of leaving this place made your heart tremble with fear. There would be no electric fence, no landmines, no booby traps for your enemies out there to protect you. All you would have was yourself, a teenage girl you barely knew and Joel – the man you had barely spoken to ever.

Those two conversations you had with him were the longest you had ever heard him speak. And the man was distraught – he just lost his partner of more than 15 years. He was also the man who did not make any attempt to get to know you in the past 15 or so years, who did not hide the fact that you were no one to him but the woman who talked to Tess sometimes. Not that you were any better, ignoring him because of the stupid, one-sided crush you had on him.

Can you trust him to have your back? He met the girl a few days ago, apparently, and already he seemed a lot more comfortable with her than with you – a woman he had known for 15 some odd years. If you were to leave with them, you felt as if it would just be a repeat of the past 20 years – you will be the tagalong, yet again, as if that role was the role you were born to fill. Already, that thought made you feel lonely.

But then… if you stayed, you would be alone. Alone, alone. No Bill, no Frank. You would just be a sitting duck. Someone or something will come. Raiders, infected, disease, injuries, illness. And the defences will fall. And you will be killed. And truth be told, the prospect of just dying and rotting with no one to put you to rest, no one to mourn you was just…

Not to mention the silly, stupid 45 year-old grown woman teenage crush you had on him. Of course, you would never tell him about it. You had kept that information to yourself for 15 years, you could keep it to yourself a little longer, forever, even, perhaps. But what if you slipped? What if you couldn’t hold it in anymore and told someone? You could just see his disgust if he were ever to find out you’d been pining for him all these years, all the while being friendly to his late partner. Worse, what if he laughed at you?

Then again, maybe, just maybe, spending more time with him, getting to actually know the real him, could snap you out of your stupid love-filled stupor. People say never meet your heroes. Maybe he was just the perfect man in your head because you didn't know him all that well. Maybe you'll end up hating him and the crush would just dissipate.

Maybe.

You went to sleep not really knowing what to do.

But when you woke up, you knew. Somehow, you just knew.

So when Joel and Ellie came downstairs, they were greeted by a good breakfast spread and a packed bag of your own. You went to say goodbye to Bill and Frank, and as Joel drove out of the compound that morning, you found yourself not even looking back, worried that you would tell him to stop and run back.

20 years. Time for a new start.

---

Part 2

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #Jackson!Joel

66 notes · View notes

poisonedjoinery · 1 year ago

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Hello beautiful, just wanted to thank for writing stories and giving us reader some of your time. I don't know if you are open for requests but I give it a try. 🤍🙏 I'm in desperate need of a voightx reader fic, angsty hurt and comfort and fluff. Maybe you like my idea or get some inspiration to write something similar.

The reader is working with intelligence and Voight is instantly taken aback by her appearance. She is also attracted to Hank. But they keep their feelings for each other hidden. One night the goes out for drinks and in their tipsy state the reader and Hank make out.... The next day Voight is giving her the silent treatment and is also cold and unfriendly to her, just ignoring the fact they kissed. His unfair behavior goes on for days until she gets him to talk to her, telling her that is was was mistake and she should move on leaves her feeling more hurt and heartbreak than ever. The situation is also taking a physically toll on her, with no appetite and her deathly sick appearance the team instantly worries.

We all know Voight would think he can't give her what she needs or be good enough fir this kind and beautiful girl.

Later on there's a guy hitting on her and Voight pushes her to date the stranger (secretly dying from jealousy, but believing another man can give her all she needs). The date ends catastrophic when she realizes that the guy drugged her, secretly and in panic she calls voight in her dizzy and weakening state and manages to tell him the bar they're currently. Not able to defend herself in her drugged state the guy is able to drag her to his car in the parking lot. She's struggling and fighting for her life, he gets frustrated and beat her up..... Voight comes just in time and keeps the guy from kidnapping her. Nearly conscious and beaten Hank takes her to his house to attend her injuries and to take care of her. Some fluffy end in which he admits his feelings for her... 🤍🙏

Currently I am sucker for caretaker fics, with sick and hurt reader. The intelligence team would be soo cute taking care and at a Hank Voight who hides his feelings and worries for the girl just get me 😍

I am soooo sorry for this long request, but I have this idea in my head since forever and I just needed it to share, in desperate hope a talented writer might create a good story. Don't hesitate to tell me if this sucks.

Lot's of love 🤍

Eat the World Raw

Authors Notes: This is an anon request, of super protective yet jealous Voight. I hope I have done your request justice anon, my apologies for the serious delay on this I have a hideously busy job these days and I find it hard to find writing time.

Summary: Reader is a new starter on the Intelligence Unit, and is instantly taken with Voight. After sharing a drunken moment, Voight pushes reader away. But a panicked phone call changes everything.

Warnings: Mentions of drink spiking and assault. Angst and fluff too. If you feel there should be any other warnings, please do let me know.

Gif by: @shelby-love

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"Hey Boss, the new recruit is here." Antonio called out to Voight, as he walked you to your new desk. Dropping your bag to the side, you pulled off your coat.

"Thank you Detective, I appreciate your help." Smiling, Antonio nodded his head,

"Call me Tonio, everyone else does. Come on, we can get you some coffee, you're gonna need it." Nodding, you followed him to the break room. Tonio gave you the rundown of the most recent case the team was working on. A gang was currently running drugs through the city, and the intelligence unit was still unsure of how they were managing to go undetected.

"Wow... that sounds like a lot. You know, I worked a case once where a gang was using the postal service to distribute their drugs. The leaders brother used to work for them, and kept a master mailbox key." Antonio looked surprised,

"Huh... that... could actually be plausible."

"'TONIO!" Whipping his head round, he watched as Voight stalked in, a deep frown on his face.

"I thought you said the new starter was... here..." His voice trailed off as his gaze focused on you. You felt your breath leave you, as though you had been gut punched. You'd been told a lot about Voight, had been told what a hardass he was. Never taking no for an answer, scaring off more teammates and pissing off coworkers more than anyone else in the CPD. What you wasn't prepared for, was for how handsome he was. Yes, he was at least twenty years older than you but you couldn't help yourself, you let your eyes roam over him. From his boots, all the way to the black button down shirt with a black leather jacket over the top.

Clearing his throat, Antonio stepped forward.

"Boss this is (Y/N). I've already brought her up to speed with the case, and she's actually given a decent idea of how the drugs could be being moved around the city." Antonio frowned, looking at Voight, and then to you.

"Boss?"

"Huh... yeah?" Clearing his throat, Voight gave a tight smile and held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you (Y/N), glad you're all caught up." Averting his gaze, he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Uh... Tonio, I need you to run down a lead. It's the one that Ruzek brought us yesterday, take the newbie." Looking back up at you, he gave a small smile and quickly turned around heading back to his office.

"Um... he seems... intense." Your voice sounded shaky. You quickly took a large gulp of coffee, wincing as it scolded your throat.

"Yeah he um... I think he's a bit stressed right now." Tonio frowned, then quickly smiled.

"Okay, let's go." Striding back out, you grabbed your coat and badge. Risking a quick glance behind you, you saw Voight in his office watching you.

--------------------------------------

The case took a nasty turn. The gang that was peddling drugs, seemed to have looped kids into their dealings. Picking the weak and neglected kids whose parents wouldn't give a shit as to their whereabouts. You kept your head down, working hard and not getting underfoot. Learning the ways and methods the team worked, but you could start to feel the pressure of this case sinking into your bones. You felt angry that innocent kids were being used, and made to believe that they were cared for. You rubbed your face, the night had settled around you causing the light from your screen to become harsh to your eyes.

"Hey (Y/N), it's late. Come on, we're all going for a drink." Glancing up, Halstead smiled from his desk as everyone else pulled on their coats, shutting down their computers. huffing out a sigh your stretched.

"Yeah sure... okay sounds good."

You all headed to Molly's, grabbing a booth in the back you sat and powered through a few beers. As the mood lightened, jokes started to fly around along with casual conversation. Soon you found yourself laughing at Ruzek and his ridiculous stories.

"There room for one more?" Glancing behind you, you found Voight staring down at you intently. Swallowing hard, you nodded and shifted your chair over.

"Sure thing Boss." Voight grabbed a chair and sat next to you.

"Thanks, and when we're not on shift, you can call me Hank." Smiling, you took a sip of your drink. Feeling more confident, mainly because of the ten or so beers flowing through you, you leant in closer to Voight.

"Thanks. So... Hank... how has your day been?" Smiling, Hank watched you for a moment, then lent in further.

"Well it has been busy... but I think we are making good progress, and the drinks are certainly helping right now." With that he took a large gulp of bourbon, causing a colour to rise in his cheeks.

The night continued, with the team drinking and laughing. The more you drank, you found yourself relaxing into your seat which incidentally lead to you leaning further into Hank. You enjoyed the warmth that came from him, the smell of his cologne, the deep laugh that vibrated out of his chest. You tried not to squirm as you felt yourself becoming flushed with excitement.

"Okay guys... I need to get to bed. I'd like it to be at least a month before I drunkenly embarrass myself. " The others laughed and jeered, trying to persuade you to stay as you pulled on your coat.

"I'm gonna head off too, (Y/N) I'll walk you out." Waving bye to everyone, you headed to the door, your mind racing at the thought of Hank being so close behind you. Rummaging in your bag you found your phone, pulling up a taxi app.

"How you getting home?" Looking up, you smiled and showed him your phone.

"I was going to get a cab."

"Ah, don't worry about that I'll give you a ride. Come on."

"Oh you don't have to..."

"I know I don't have to, but I want to. It's late and I can at least know you're safe." Dropping your phone back into your bag, you pulled your jacket closer around you.

"Then lead the way Boss." Smirking at him, as he raised an eyebrow, he lead you across the street to his truck. Climbing in, you sank into a soft leather chair. The air was heavy with Hanks smell, and coffee.

"So... where do you live?" Shutting the door behind him, Hank started the truck and turned on the heater. Giving him your address, you pulled your seatbelt on. The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Hank maneuvered the truck smoothly through the light city traffic, occasionally asking you questions about your previous jobs. Before you knew it, you were outside your house. Stopping the truck, he placed his arm behind your chair, quietly watching you.

"Thank you, Voight. I appreciate the lift."

"You're welcome sweethear'." You felt a heat creep over your face at the endearment. You dropped your gaze not wanting him to see.

"Well um... goodnight. I..." Before you could finish your sentence, Hank had tilted your face up, his hand remaining under your jaw.

"Just... a taste." You blinked and felt as his lips pressed against yours. Moaning quietly, you reached your hand up grazing the back of his neck. Pulling him in closer to you. You're not sure at what point it happened, but you ended up pulled into Hanks lap, slowly kissing him for what felt like hours. Humming quietly, he pressed his head against yours.

"I um... I should probably go. I need to be fresh for tomorrow... I don't want my boss to get pissed at me." Smiling, Hank let you shift out of his lap and into the passenger seat again.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bright and early boss." Climbing out you headed into your house, Hank remaining outside until you had locked your front door. Hank rubbed his face and pulled his truck out onto the main road. What the fuck had he done.

-------------------------------------------

The next morning Hank got to the office bright and early. He didn't want to be disturbed by anyone. This case was starting to piss him off, and he didn't want to fuck around chasing any more dead beat leads. He noticed as the rest of the team trickled in, all of them having a haggard look that suggested they'd all drunk a bit too much last night. He noticed how you watched him through the blinds of his office, like you was waiting for him to call you in for a chat. He probably should talk to you, but he just couldn't do it right now. He was too pissed at himself to even consider having a civilised conversation.

He made sure he kept busy for the rest of the day, he didn't want to speak to anyone unless needed. He chased down lead after lead until he managed to find one that was promising. After ten hours, and a painful conversation with a local informant, Voight managed to track the ring leader down and haul him and his gang into lockup. He left Antonio and Burgess shutting down the lab, and bagging up evidence.

"(Y/N), with me." nodding quickly, you followed Voight out into the stations car park.

"I'm sorry about last night, I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have kissed you."

"I didn't mind Hank, I actually enjoyed..."

"No... it won't be happening again. I am too old for you, and I won't be able to give you anything that you want. So it's best to just... forget about it okay." It killed him to see the pain and hurt in your eyes.

"Hank I..."

"It was a mistake (Y/N), okay?" He didn't meant to raise his voice, but he saw the anger building in you.

"Not a problem Boss, I've already forgotten." Watching you march back into the building, he groaned inwardly, kicking himself for his tactless approach.

For the next few weeks, Voight watched as you worked alongside the team, effortlessly working leads and solving case after case. He couldn't stand how pale you had become, how when everyone else had lunch you seemed to find a reason not to eat with them.

"(Y/N), eat something will you. I don't want you passing out on shift." Whipping your head round, you glared at Voight as he stalked past you. Grinding your teeth, you forced yourself to answer.

"Sir." Grabbing your coat, you nodded to 'Tonio.

"I'm heading out for some food, want anything?" 'Tonio shook his head,

"Na I'm good, thanks (Y/N)." Nodding, you headed out.

You didn't realise how hungry you were until you were half way through a footlong sub from the local deli. Your stomach ached in protest and delight at the amount of food you were consuming. You couldn't help but think about how Voight had kissed you that night, it had felt glorious. You hadn't dated anyone for a few years, hadn't really had the time. You'd enjoyed your job too much. But when Voight had kissed you, you felt a new rush, a new thrill. Then the fucker had ditched you.

"Asshole." Throwing your rubbish in the bin, you headed back into the office. Taking the stairs two at a time, you wasn't focused on the people around you and you slammed into someone.

"Shit... I'm sorry I wasn't watching." Glancing up you found a guy in front of you smiling.

"(Y/N)! Christ I haven't seen you in years." Focusing on the face attached to the voice, you saw it was Jacob. A guy you had gone through the academy with. Huffing out a breath, you gave a wane smile.

"Hey, Jacob. How you doing?" Nodding, he grinned, stepping closer to you.

"Yeah I'm good thanks, I'm working over with homicide now."

"Sweet." You shifted your gaze, looking up to where you wanted to go. He glanced behind you, eyes going wide.

"Are you... you up in Intelligence?"

"uh-huh."

"Holy shit that is amazing, I've heard Voight is a right hardass... is that true?"

"I can be when pushed." Jacobs eyes widened as he spun round.

"Um... sorry Sir, I didn't mean anything by it." Smirking Voight clapped him on the shoulder,

"Don't sweat it. (Y/N), when you're ready we've got a lead to run down." Turning, Voight headed up the stairs to the rest of the team.

"I should head up." Moving to follow Voight, Jacob caught your arm.

"Hey do you fancy grabbing a drink tonight, after work?" Glancing up the stairs you saw Voight had slowed down, probably trying to over hear your conversation.

"Um... yeah I'll uh... I'll let you know. Big case, not sure what time I'll be finished."

"Yeah... yeah okay sounds good." Heading up the stairs, you caught Voights eye.

"Hey... you dating that guy?" Frowning, you glanced up at him.

"I... no I went through the academy with him. He just asked if I wanted to meet for a drink."

"Hmm... you should go. You're a young woman, you should get out from behind the desk." Watching him closely, you leaned in looking for any hint of a joke.

"You... okay sure, why not." Turning on your heel you marched into the office heading straight to your desk to phone Jacob. If Voight insisted you go, then you'll go. If only you'd turned round, you'd have seen the fury burning in his eyes.

-------------------------------------------

Checking your reflection, you smiled. You'd picked your best emerald green dress, it dipped low at the front and hugged at your hips just right. You felt good for the first time in a while.

"Forget Voight." Grabbing your coat and bag, you headed out the door.

You found Jacob at the bar sipping on a beer, spotting you he grinned.

"Wow... you look amazing!" Grinning, you pulled your coat off and placed it over the bar stool.

"Thank you, you scrub up well yourself." Gesturing to the bartender, you ordered a red wine.

"Cheers." Taking a big sip you smiled. You looked around the bar, seeing all the different people chatting and drinking. You felt yourself relax a bit into your seat.

"So... how's your case going?" Looking up, you were stalled for moment.

"Uh... yeah it's going okay. It's a tough case but we're getting there." You didn't overly want to chat about work, as it reminded you of Voight. Jacob seemed to get the hint as you didn't expand any further on the subject. You sat quietly for a moment, just sipping on your drink. After a while, you both seemed to just relax into a conversation, reliving the academy days minutes passing into hours.

"You feeling okay?" Jacobs voice seemed to pull you out of a blurred moment that you didn't remember going into.

"Hmm? oh... yeah I'm fine, I'm just... gonna head to the bathroom okay?" Smiling, he nodded.

"Okay, well uh... shall we head out after this? Maybe find somewhere to get food?" Standing up, you nodded holding onto your chair for dear life.

"Yeah that's fine." Grabbing your bag, you headed to the bathroom, feeling your legs wobble and your head start to swirl. Pulling in a deep breath, you focused on the toilet door, not wanting to look more drunk than you were.

Pushing open the door, you leant on the sink and stared at your reflection. Your pupils looked blown, but you couldn't tell. You couldn't focus. You tried to remember how many drinks you'd had, tried to remember anything but it was all becoming a hazy dream.

"Shit.." Stumbling into a toilet stall, you locked the door behind you and rummaged in your bag pulling out your phone. You truly hoped you'd punched in the right number.

"(Y/N)?" Hanks voice cut through the phone, relief flooded through you.

"Han..k... I need... come help... been drugged."

"Where are you!" You felt yourself slowly drifting off.

"I... I'm ... bar...South side... bird...bird... Spar..." Your voice drifted off,

"Bird... the Sparrow... you at the Sparrow!"

"Yea... bathro." Your world went black.

Voight drove like a madman, sirens blaring not caring who he cut off in the process. Hold on, please god hold on. The streets were a blur as they flashed past him in a haze of lights and noise. Pulling into the car park, Voight spotted a guy hauling a woman to his car. Stepping out, he recognised it as Jacob. Picking up his pace, he started towards him catching your voice as he got closer.

"No... get off you sick fuck."

"Stop struggling... you know you're going to love it." Hank watched as you swung at him catching him in the mouth, but it didn't stop there. Jacob slapped you, and punched you in the stomach. Hank was at his back within seconds. Grabbing him by the hair, he slammed his face into the side of the car, continuing to punch him as he slid to the ground. He wouldn't have stopped, could have killed him had it not been for your voice calling to him.

"Hank..." Looking behind him, he saw you stirring on the floor blood pouring from your mouth.

"Shit... (Y/N), I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Scooping you up, he carried you to his car putting you in the passenger seat. Peeling out of the car park, he sped away from the bar. Glancing over at you he took your hand,

"Hey, (Y/N) stay awake alright. We're nearly there." You let your head lull to the side, the warm air from the heater and the blow to the head making you sleepy.

"Where's there?" you murmured out.

"Home."

-------------------------------------------

Waking up, your head felt heavy, your vision blurred. Rubbing a hand over your face, you realised you no longer had your dress on but a soft t-shirt with the letter CPD stamped on the chest. Your body ached, and yet you felt content in the soft confines of the duvet.

"Hmm... s'good."

"(Y/N)?" Glancing to the side, you found Voight sitting in a chair next to your bed.

"Hey, um... what am I doing here?" Reaching out, Voight took your hand and held onto it gently.

"You rang me last night, you went out for a drink with the Jacob guy and ah... he um... he spiked your drink." Frowning, you tried to remember but all you could think of was the toilet stall you had sat in.

"I got there just as he was dragging into his car, but you resisted and uh.. he hit you a few times."

"I um... christ I don't remember much I'm sorry Boss. Guess that's why my head hurts hmm?"

"What! No, don't be sorry, that scumbag is the one who should be sorry not you! I'm... I'm just glad I was able to get you out before... well I'm glad I got to you." Smiling you squeezed his hand with yours,

"Thanks Boss."

"'Tonio checked into your boy, and he's not a cop, well not any more at least. He didn't make it passed being a beat cop, he assaulted two women so he got fired." You felt your stomach churn.

"Well... maybe next time I should get you guys to run a background check on whoever I plan on going for a drink with hmm?" Dropping your head back into the pillow you winced as pain flared through your eyes. Looking around the room, you saw that it was rather warm and, oddly enough, cosy.

"We won't need to do that." Voight sounded a little nervous, something you had never thought he could be. Tilting your head, you gazed at him intently,

"And why's that hmm?"

"Because I'm not a creep who preys on women, so you'll be safe."

"Wha..?" Sighing, he shifted out of his chair to sit on the edge of the bed, running his other hand over your hair. It only occured to you now that this was Hanks house, Hanks bedroom, Hanks shirt that you were wearing.

"I shouldn't have encouraged you to go on a date with that guy. What I should have done, was date you myself. But instead I... I got nervous. Nervous that you'd see I wasn't anything but an old, beat up cop too stuck in his ways to make you happy in the ways that matter." Sitting yourself up, you leaned into Voight and kissed him. You wasn't sure how long it lasted, or when he had gently pushed you back leaning into you. Running your hands up his arms, you traced your fingers over his broad back. Breaking away, you pressed your head against his,

"You know, you never even asked what makes me happy. If you'd had just asked, I think we would have saved a lot of time... and spiked drinks." Smirking at him, he shook his head.

"Yeah I know, I'm a dumbass." Laughing at him, you brushed your hand over his jaw.

"I'll let you off, on one condition." Voight raised an eyebrow, and hummed quietly.

" You um... take these jeans off and stay in bed with me for the day hmm?"

"Yes Ma'am, you don't have to ask me twice." Standing he slowly unbuckled his belt, and unbuttoned the jeans. You felt a heat build in your face and stomach. This was going to be... an interesting day.

#hank voight x reader #hank voight #chicago pd #antonio dawson #voight x reader #hank voight fanfic #hank voight fan fiction #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd fic #voight fanfic #fanfiction #one chicago #anon ask #anon request #anon answered

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spidermans-l-o-v-e-r · 9 months ago

Text

Rainy days

Will I edit this now that I’m posting it here? NOPE

Pairing: Steve x Bucky x Reader

Word Count: Hmmm I don't even remember when I wrote this

Notes: Man we aint gon talk about when I'm posting this

Today was a shit day. Brad from accounting spilled his coffee on your brand new white shirt, your boss called you in to tell you the deadline had been moved up a week and a half, there was no toilet paper in the bathroom and to top it off you’d grabbed the wrong lunch that morning and ended up with a leftover container of plain spaghetti noodles instead of your onigiri you’d make last night.

“This day literally could not get worse. I truly don’t think it could like what could actually happen” You grumbled as you got into your car, slamming the door shut. You pushed the break and hit the button.

Nothing.

You pushed the break and the button again.

Nothing.

Famous last words as they say.

“Are you shitting me!?!?” You screamed at the top of your lungs, you kicked your feet and slammed your hands into the steering wheel

“What did I do! What did I possibly do to deserve any of this!” You screamed to no one as you sobbed in your car. Was it a bit dramatic? Yes. Did the sky decide to just open the flood gates at that exact moment? Also Yes.

You stared blankly at the rain, watching it stream down the windows. It was heavy and unforgiving as thunder cracked above you, you looked down at the heels on your feet, your brand new light pink ones. The weatherman said it was supposed to be a sunny fall day. It was supposed to nice and cool and dry. Comfortable even.

You laid your head on the steering wheel and just sat there, listening to the rain fall. If you weren’t so broken it would have been peaceful. You tried the button one more time and it still wouldn’t come on.

You reached blindly for your phone and grabbed it, punching the favorites button and holding it up to your ear.

“Hey Doll, are you on your way home yet?”

You sniffled and shook your head, not that Bucky could see you.

His tone changed quickly to worry “Y/N? Where are you?” You heard his voice a little further away, he was already searching for your location.

“You’re still at work? You got off 20 minutes ago is everything okay?” You can hear him moving around knowing he’s already ready to head out of the door and take out anyone he needs to.

“Can you guys please come pick me up.” Your voice is wobbly and small “My car broke down in the parking lot. I’m okay I’m safe I just need you to come get me.”

“We’re already in the car, we’ll be there in…what seven? Eight minutes?”

You hear Steve’s voice “Like seven”

“Yeah seven minutes okay? Keep the doors locked and stay alert”

You smirked a bit. Your workplace was 15 minutes from the house. 22 ish if the lights were in a mood. “I promise I will, see you soon.”

Steve and Bucky arrived in exactly seven minutes. You heard the tail end of Steve’s conversation as they approached the car, umbrella’s in hand. “Okay we’ll wait… thanks for the lights” Tony was a sweetheart sometimes. Bucky unlocked the doors and opened your side up, he leaned against it as he held an umbrella.

“Your escorts have arrived” he smiles a bit at you. Steve is behind him frowning, you know you look awful right now your makeup ruined your shirt ruined. But it’s not really meaning much now that they’re here. Bucky unbuckles your seatbelt for you and holds open his arms.

“C’mere doll..” his voice is soft as he hugs you to his chest, Steve comes around and squishes you between the two of them.

“You’re okay baby girl we’re here now”

You cry into Bucky’s chest as they hold you, Steve pulls you away and guides you to their car, opening the door for you. Tony had finally taken away Steve’s tiny ass car privileges. He bought him a truck fit for two super soldiers and created an entire course for Steve to practice driving with it. You remember relaxing with Pepper in lawn chairs while sipping on drinks as Tony had a whole aneurysm teaching him to drive. Bucky sat in the tailgate occasionally breaking up fights but sipping on his own drink as well.

Steve got in the truck after you, pulling you into his lap and holding you tightly to his chest, you melted into his ridiculously comfy chest, his large pecks plush and comforting. He chuckled and stroked your hair, kissing your head.

“You warm enough? Do we need to turn on the heat?”

“Trust me I do not need the heat with you furnaces in here”

Bucky started up the truck and turned on his music, something soft, something he’d play often when you couldn’t sleep. You never knew what it was but it was nice, something from another time.

“Tony should be here any minute now and then we can leave” Steve says as he puts his legs up, cradling you against his body. You lay there for a bit, still sniffling against Steve’s chest. He chuckles as he keeps stroking your hair

“Come on beautiful, it’ll be okay.”

It’s quiet for a bit as you all wait, Bucky and Steve making light conversation and you chiming in a couple times but not really saying much. They’re a little worried, they know it was just a bad day but they can’t help it.

Tony arrives 15 minutes later all ready to take your car away and work it over and see what happened. Bucky gets out and handles everything for you. The car gets loaded onto a truck and taken away to his workshop. Tony reassures you from his own car that he’ll send a car for you first thing in the morning and that you’ve been called out of work for the next week. You look out of the window and smile

“Tony thanks really but I can’t be out that long I have a project to work on and-“

Tony puts his hand up “Don’t worry I’ll have someone else on that tomorrow. I bought the company! You just rest up kid!”

Your mouth drops and before you can even protest he speeds away and Steve yanks you back down into his lap. Bucky starts up the truck and starts on his way, driving the three of you back to your shared apartment.

Once back home Bucky starts a hot shower for you and Steve goes into the kitchen immediately. He says he’s got a surprise for you for dinner and to go take a nice long shower. Bucky surprisingly keeps his hands to himself, making sure you’re nice and clean and taken care of, giving you soft kisses and little caresses.

“I know what’ll make you feel better” Bucky comes up behind you as you’re putting your hair serum in, he kisses your bare shoulders softly and puts his arms around you, watching you comb your fingers through your hair.

“What’s that?” You ask as you look at him in the mirror. He pulls open one of the drawers in front of you and takes a bottle of lube out. Your eyes go wide as he leads you into the bedroom, letting your towel drop.

“I know you’re tired and hungry so while Steve is cooking for you let’s just cuddle okay?” He pushes you back on the bed carefully

“Why do we need that?” You point at the bottle “for cuddling”

“Because it’s your favorite kind of cuddling.” He jokes as he takes off his boxers he’d put on when he went to see if Steve needed help, you bite your lip as you look at him, trying to keep your eyes on his. He smirks as he pours lube into his hand, coating his cock in it as he rubs it slowly. You drool a bit as he gets nice and hard, his cock glistening in the light. You squeeze your thighs together and he leans down, giving you a kiss as he eases you onto your back. He pours more lube onto his fingers and spreads your lips, rubbing it up and down teasing you before carefully sinking his fingers in, they go in easily and your hips buck. He chuckles as you fuck your self on his fingers, moaning softly as you tighten that coil in your belly, winding it up tighter and tighter. His thumb rubs your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out and you moan louder, your hips losing control as you cum over his fingers, he keeps pumping you through your orgasm, grinning wickedly as he watches the way your body reacts to his fingers

“Good girl, cum for me so I can make sure you’re wet enough.” He praises as you lay there, your body jello, your legs trembling. He pulls you up on the bed so your head is on the pillows. He strokes himself a few more times and gets on the bed with you, kissing your hair. He wipes his hands on a napkin from the bed and throws it into the trash can

“Nice shot” you giggle and he smiles, adjusting your body again so you’re facing him. He grabs your leg, lifting it up and positions himself between your legs, his head teasing your entrance as he pushes into you. You let out a long, low moan as he fills you to the hilt. He puts your leg back down and you adjust yourself a bit, your head nuzzled into his neck.

“Thanks Doll” he whispers in your ear as he pulls a blanket over the two of you and wraps his arms around you. You’re practically purring as he rubs your back while kissing your head. “We can stay just like this. You take a nap, you deserve it.

“You want to stay l-like this?” You blush as your cunt squeezes around his cock. He nods as he groans softly, adjusting himself again.

“You need a nap sugar and I know this always makes you feel better… let me do this for you”

“Oh and this has nothing to do with how it makes you feel?” You smirk as you snuggle into him again, closing your eyes.

“I didn’t say it didn’t make me feel amazing” he chuckles, pushing his long hair back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You sigh “what’s there to talk about? Today was shit. I can’t believe Brad wasn’t looking where he was going he never looks where he’s going! A-and he ruined that new shirt you and Steve got me I can’t stand that asshole! I have absolutely no idea what the hell is wrong with my car-“

“Tony’s handling that” He interrupts and you smile

“Do I need to pick the color?”

“Yes and if you’d like a specific model let him know.” He chuckles as you roll your eyes, adjusting again. You move your hips a little, rolling them on his cock and he looks at you, raising his eyebrow

“He doesn’t have to do that… I can just get it fixed.” You ignore the look he’s giving you and keep gently rolling your hips.

“It’s not often an Avenger gets a happy ending Y/N… let alone two. Let him take care of you. You know how much he loves you”

You run your fingers through his fluffy hair and smile “Maybe we can invite him and Pepper over sometime for dinner”

Bucky nods, kissing your neck gently. “Yeah I think he’d like that..” He moans in your ear as you keep moving your hips on his cock, it’s not enough to make him cum but it’s enough to keep him nice and hard inside you. You feel him, warm and thick, filling up your insides. You can feel the way your tight hole stretches around him, his balls pressed against you he’s so deep. They’re so full and firm against you, you can’t help but dream about them exploding inside you, breeding your tight cunt like he loves to do.

“Are you feeling any better?” Bucky asks, his voice husky as you reach down to rub his balls between your legs. Your breath hitches as you feel them

“Y-yeah I think I am”

You're just starting to massage his balls when there’s a knock at the door. Steve stands in the doorway, in just an apron, and your mouth drops wide open.

“S-Steve?” Your voice cuts out

“I thought it would cheer you up!” He grins widely as he brings a tray into the bedroom. Bucky pulls out sighing loudly and you whine as you sit up without him. He sits up and picks your waist up, using the metal arm, it sends a chill through your hot body and sits you right back down on his cock. You cry out and he chuckles, holding your hips in place.

“I hope you’re hungry, I made lasagna” he sets the tray in front of you and Bucky but neither of you can concentrate on anything but him. God that man’s ass was something else. You can practically feel Bucky throbbing inside you at the sight of him, you’re both drooling over him.

“I think I’m hungry for something else” You mumble and Bucky nods against your shoulder

“Definitely hungry for something else”

#steve x bucky x reader #bucky barnes #rhys writes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #steve rogers #marvel mcu #mcu fandom #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #smut #mcu smut #words by rhys

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mrsparrasblog · 10 months ago

Text

STRIPCLUB GHOST

I think he wouldn't go to a Stripclub in the Canon but my brain was working again lel. You can find more on my A03: Mrsparras

Moving to England to study abroad has always been your biggest dream since you were a child, so when you graduated and were old enough, you did it. You blessed Erasmus that you wouldn't have so much debt—well, at least you thought so, but in the end, you couldn't make ends meet.

So you decided to search for a job that you could do while studying that also fit with your busy schedule, so you started to work in a strip club in Soho under the promise that you would only be a waitress and nothing more.

You stood behind the bar counter wearing the skimpiest clothes you had and prepared drinks, and to your surprise, it was fun. Even watching the stripper from far away gave you straight-up BI panic; they were also beautiful and mature.

Surprisingly, you even got a lot of tips despite not dancing half-naked around the pole. The customers all called you Angel; being the youngest and most unattainable had its perks.

One day there was a new customer who wore a Ghost mask and was a brick house of a man. He was nice to you despite looking scary.

"Come on, Bunny, tell me why you are doing this," he asked while you served him a glass of his favorite Bourbon. He was nice, always left you a good tip, and was generous. So you didn't feel the urge to lie to him; why should you?

"I need to pay bills; food and rent are expensive in Manchester."

"I see," he said, leaving this time a 60-pound tip on his 18-pound Bourbon.

"Sir, it's too much."

"It isn't Bunny; buy yourself something nice with it, okay?"

And you did buy yourself a proper meal after a long time of only eating pasta with pesto, and it was delicious.

The next day, when you went to work, you got an offer from your boss: 500 pounds for a private striptease, 120 pounds more if it turns into a lapdance. You never wanted to do this; you couldn't dance, and you were insecure about your body. But it was easy money, and you could always bottom out if it was too much for you.

"The man left this costume for you behind." Your bodyguard gave you a bunny costume with bunny ears, white soft lingerie, and a bunny tail. Oh god, what a freak. Problem No. 2: It was at least 2 sizes too small, making your tits almost fall out.

You were curious to find out who specifically requested you, and when you walked into the private room, you saw Ghost. You were smiling; you knew you could trust him, and you would lie if you said you didn't develop a crush on him the last few weeks when he slowly became your regular.

"Ghost"

"Bunny"

"So, um, do you want me to dance?"

"I want you to be comfortable, but yes, I would love watching you dance."

So you began to dance awkwardly at first, but then you enjoyed it, dancing around provocatively, shaking your ass a bit in his reaction, and he enjoyed it. The half-hour stopped, and you were a bit sad.

"It was fun, Ghost."

"It was Bunny."

You thought it would be the last time you did this, but when your bodyguard told you Ghost requested you for the rest of the week, every day your vagina made this weird butterfly-clenching thing. You would dance for him every day.

So you began to dance with him every day, even being bolder and giving him a lap dance. You touched his strong abs while circling your hips around him. You were afraid that the fabric wasn't thick enough to hide your throbbing cunt.

"Love, please don't move," he whimpered.

You looked at him in confusion and asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Bunny, no, just don't move."

You felt his massive erection under you, and you grinded against him again. "Do you mean because of this?"

"Stop it. I don't want to use your poverty for my gain."

"Did you call me a prostitute?" You asked him, feeling completely furious, and you would have fucked him even despite the money.

"No Bunny I'm just saying you're too good for me, okay? Im a dirty man; men like me aren't made for little sweet girls like you," he said before leaving you in utter confusion, horny, and alone.

You didn't think he would return the next day, but he did, and you refused his cash this time before going to the private suite with him.

"Why do you refuse my money? You need it, and I have enough of it."

"I don't want you to see me as a prostitute."

"I could never see you as less than an angel."

This time you didn't strip for him; you just sat on his lap and talked. He told you that he works as a police officer, even though you thought this was a lie, and you told him all about your native country, how you moved here, and how you loved it.

"All I'm saying is I don't think sex is good enough to pay for it," you claimed while laughing. The erection pressing against your thighs was something you already got used to.

"Then you were with the wrong men before Bunny; sex is great."

"It's okay"

He laughed, "You never had an orgasm before ?" his fingers trailed down on the thin fabric of your pants.

You blushed immediately and shook your head, grinding against his fingers for the smallest friction.

"That explains why you are so desperate, Bunny," he chuckled and left.

The next day, one day before your day off, you went to work again, instinctively walking to the private room where he already sat, this time shirtless. He was the picture of a perfect man with strong abs, and a blonde happy trail down to his thick erection that was only covered by his briefs.

"Sit down and give me a lapdance, please, Bunny."

You sat down on him, but this time he grinded against you, not you against him. You would love that sudden change, but you were a bit mad that he left you yesterday after calling you desperate.

"Tell me you want me, and I'm all yours."

"I don't want you," you lied to him.

"I think you want this, bunny. Don't lie to yourself." He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear. "I can see it in your eyes. You want me to fuck you hard and make you scream."

"No"

"Yes, you do," he insists, pulling down your costume to expose your bare ass. His hand traces the crack in your ass before dipping between your cheeks, pressing against your entrance. "Admit it, bunny. You want me inside you."

"No, I don't want you," but your body betrayed your stubborn act. You were soaking wet and a moaning mess for him. He was so hot and big, and all you wanted was to let him take care of you. Let him show you what a real man is.

"Lie to me again, and I'll make sure you regret it." His fingers begin to probe, seeking entry into your tight little hole. "Tell me, bunny. Have you ever been taken like this before? Fucked raw by a real man." He laughed at you, his voice sounding mean and dominant to his usual nice behavior. Maybe he had a stressful day, but did you care about what made you so lucky today?

"Good," he growls, finally pushing past your resistance and forcing his middle finger inside you. "Because I'm going to make sure you scream for me." His other hand moves up to grope one of your breasts through the costume, pinching the nipple hard.

"Oh fuck, Ghost."

"That's it, bunny. Let me hear you," he demands, adding a second finger to stretch you wider. His thumb rubs over your hardened nipple as his fingers thrust deeper, searching for that sweet spot inside you. "You like that?"

"No," you moaned.

"Lie to me again, and I'll gag you," he warns, pulling his fingers free with a wet pop. "Now tell me the truth." He grabs your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "Do you want my cock inside you?"

You were thinking of lying again only so that he could gag you, but you needed him right now more than you needed anything in your life before. "Yes"

"Good girl," he praises, lowering his mouth to capture one of your nipples in a hot, sucking kiss. His other hand slides down between your legs, rubbing against your pleading clit.

"You've never felt anything like this, bunny?" He purrs against your skin, "You just want me to shove my cock inside you and claim you as mine, don't you?" He already knew the answer, and he was determined to give you your real first orgasm.

"I never felt like this before, Ghost."

"That's right," he agrees, standing up and pushing your legs apart. His hot breath is fanning across your wet folds as he stares down at his prize. "You're going to feel even better when I'm buried balls deep inside you."

Your pussy clenched and throbbed, and now he saw the evidence of your lust.

"You see, bunny," he says with a chuckle, "your body knows what it wants." His thick cock is at your entrance now, slowly pushing inside. The head teased the tight ring of muscles before finally breaking through with a small groan from both of them.

"Oh god, it's too big." It was bigger than the dildo that you had at home, but you liked the burn and to be filled.

"That's because you've never had a real man inside you before," he growls, starting to thrust deeper. Each movement hits your sweet spot and makes your insides clench around him. "You like that, don't you? Feeling my cock stretching you out?"

"Ghost, im going to cum," you whined as he started to stroke your hard nub while he fucked you restlessly.

"Good," he says, picking up the pace. His hips slam against yours as he takes you hard and fast. The chair creaked under their combined weight. "You're mine now, bunny," he pants out between moans. "Say it."

"Im yours, Ghost," you moaned. He continued the abuse on your pleading clit, leaving soft hits on it before starting to circle it again how you liked it. He read you like a novel that needs to be analyzed. He tried to interpret every movement of yours and intesed his flicks against your clit until you finally came, screaming and crying. Your head fell against his neck, and you bit it like a feral animal. Fuck you thought what has gotten into you.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, he leaned down to kiss you roughly. His free hand squeezes one of your breasts as his cock continues to pound into you. "This is how a real man fucks." Simon picks up the pace even more, grinding against you as his hips smack against your perfect ass.

The head of his cock hits that sweet spot inside you, again and again, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Fuck,"

"Ghost, please." You started to whimper, being completely cock drunk.

"Please, what, bunny?" he asks between moans. His thrusts become even more erratic as he loses control. "Do you want me to cum inside you?" he asked while his eyes turned darker at the thought of claiming you as his, his little innocent bunny.

"Yes"

"Yes, bunny?" he asks teasingly. His free hand left your breast to snake down between your legs, teasing at your clit. His cock is throbbing inside you as he takes you harder than ever before.

"Yes, yes, please." You started to beg, and you felt a bit pathetic.

"Yes, what, bunny?" he asks, his voice rough with desire.

"Cum inside of me, Ghost."

"You want me to cum inside you, bunny?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. His thrusts become even more erratic as he nears his climax. "Tell me how much you want it."

"So much, Ghost," you whined.

"Tell me you're mine," he demands, his voice laced with need. His cock is throbbing inside you as he reaches his peak, filling you with his hot cum. "Say it, bunny." You were in orgasmic bliss, clenching around him as he erupted inside of your willing womb. You took everything of his big cock and cum so eagerly, almost greedy, afraid someone would steal it from you. I'm yours."

"Tomorrow at 8 p.m., I will pick you up; we are getting dinner."

You looked at him confused, and he only chuckled, "Did you think I fucked my perfect girl and let you leave then? No, we are going out; well, only if you want to go on a date with this old perverted dog."

"It depends on whether you are ugly behind the mask."

"Quite the opposite, love."

225 notes · View notes

yndrgrl · 10 months ago

Text

"please don't go, i love you so, my lovely"

~++~*~++~

[welcome] to my blog! how are you feeling today? i am the owner of this blog, feel free to call me whatever you want! i go by all pronouns, but people mostly use she/her haha. my specialty is yandere (obviously) but i do love me some good cutesy romance! when i'm not writing, you can find me on a mat wrestling, lifting weights at the gym, or at my desk journaling :)

[warnings]: i will say that my yandere works are fairly soft compared to other yandere interpretations, but i will warn you that i typically write obsessive behaviors, stalking, & smut. any other warnings you should be aware of are included in the fanfics themselves.

~++~*~++~

[masterlist]: all my fics are located below :)

LONG ASS FICS.

"i think about you all the fuckin' time" -> link

your classmate, yandere! bakugou, has a major crush on you. nsfw.

"so tell me, if you feel the same" -> link

bakugou had a glowup during summer break. sfw.

"i want you. all of you" -> link

new bf! bakugou helps his bunnygirl gf, you. nsfw.

"you think you're all that?" -> link

yandere! bakugou uses you to get to your friend but falls for you instead. nsfw.

"you're just our type" -> link

you gym crushes, yandere! kiribaku, finally make a move. nsfw.

"you know, it's rude to stare, y/n" -> link

your new job is to nanny yandere! aizawa's cute kid. nsfw.

"i'm busy fucking! " -> link

you are promoted to assistant for your boss, yandere! bakugou. nsfw.

"just swallow your pride & ask like a good girl" -> link

your enemy, yandere! bakugou, is possessive over you. nsfw.

"you think you're so clever, huh?" -> link

your mission, as a spy, is to bring mafia boss, yandere! dabi. nfsw.

-more coming soon... <3

CUTE LIL DRABBLES.

"an idiot" -> link

bakugou has a crush on you, & you're dense. sfw.

"oh, how i adore you, y/n" -> link

you & bakugou's relationship dynamic. sfw.

"no one calls me sweet, like... ever" -> link

you believe that bakugou is too sweet for you. sfw.

-more coming soon... <3

HEADCANNONS FOR YO ASS.

"you better stfu or else you'll be in so much trouble" -> link

step bro! bakugo x step sis! reader. nsfw.

"tell me you're mine forever, baby girl" -> link

dilf! bakugou x barista! reader. nsfw.

"wonder how far you'll go to stop us" -> link

bullies! kiribaku x reader. nsfw.

-more coming soon... <3

~++~*~++~

[i will not write] the traditional yandere x darling stuff where the yandere tortures their darling. i also do not write heavily forced nsfw content & heavily unwilling reader because i want my fics to be indulgent, not traumatic. i also refuse to write homophobia, racism, any sort of hate towards a group of people, p3do shit, necrophilia, scat, urine, & feet (it freaks me out haha).

[i do write] dark romance, bdsm, degrading & praising, somnaphilia, dom/sub dynamics, power play, voyerism, abo stuff, other au's, & reasonable age gaps (teacher/student, boss/employee, etc). i will write coercion & light unwilling-to-willing reader. if i didn't mention anything, but you want me to write some other kink, feel free to message me & i'll let you know if i'll write it or not :)

~++~*~++~

#masterlist

153 notes · View notes

loveshotzz · 2 years ago

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bouncer!steve x fem!reader Steve’s night

🎵 I finally found someone that can make me laugh, hahaha you so crazy, I think I wanna have your baby. 🎵

summary: you’ve got a crush on the new bouncer at The Foxy Lounge. turns out he’s not very good at his job.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: 18+ 90’s AU// Steve is in his early 30’s, Your date gets drunk and says some night nice things, some mild violence (bar fights), possessive steve, fingering, smut (p in v) cream pie, ass eating (f! receiving), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk.

authors note: part two of Whatta Man (steve’s night) you don’t need to read eddie’s to read this one it’s just a little more fun if you do. i’ve seen other writers repost their work after it’s been flagged so here I am. I worked on this for months. please be kind.

The perks of moving into the apartment that presides above The Foxy Lounge were vast for a single girl like yourself, but the perks of becoming friends with the bartender that worked there seemed to make them endless.

Memorized orders and free drinks when he was feeling nice (which he almost always was), he wore the crown of wingman of the century with pride, Eddie always made sure you had a good time. It was days like today that were your favorite though, heading home from a shitty morning shift at work, you weren’t surprised when you tugged on the front door an hour before open and it wasn’t locked. The annoyed look on his face told you he wasn’t either. An irritated groan leaves his chest at the carelessness of the owner and your landlord before popping the caps off two beers with ease. The loud clink of metal to glass echoes in the empty bar, as he flips his bottle opener between his fingers like muscle memory stuffing it in his back pocket.

“He’s gonna get us robbed one day, and I’m just gonna take my favorite bottle for damages and let them have the rest at this point.” His smile shows the lack of truth behind his words when you sit in the stool in front of him.

“Lucky for the both of you, it’s always just me.” Winking when you take a swig, the bitter liquid and the company eases the bad day out of your bones almost instantly.

The beginnings of a relaxed sigh start to push past your lips when the jarring sound of his rings slapping against the wood of the bar to the tune of a drum roll has you tense right back up. You’re unable to stop the slam of your beer before deadpanning, “you know I hate when you do that-“

“My best buddy Steve starts tomorrow night, I finally got Rick to say yes.” Eddie’s excitement has him vibrating when he cuts you off to tell you the news of the latest Foxy Lounge employee. “You’re gonna have such a crush on him. I’m calling it now.” The smirk on his face and the arch of his brow dare you to challenge him as he leans forward into your space.

Rolling your eyes with a snort, you start picking at the white sticker wrapped around the bottle.

“As if you know my type, Munson.” You can’t control the twitch of your lips the second the words leave your mouth when you finally dare to meet his amused gaze.

Eddie knew your type better than anyone else. Watching the men and sometimes women you’d bring upstairs weekend after weekend. He had you pegged and the Cheshire smile on his face told you he knew it too.

“I can hear it now.” He changes the pitch of his voice so it sounds like a bad version of yours before he continues with an exaggerated batting of his lashes, “Oh Eddie, Steve is just so dreamy. Do you think he thinks I’m cute? Will you talk to him? Come on Eddie!”

“I do NOT talk like that, asshole!” Launching a handful of bar nuts at him, he raises his hands in mock surrender shaking out the few that got stuck in his hair with a booming laugh.

“I don’t think that's a nice way to treat the guy who not only didn’t kick you out but also gave you a free beer before we opened, sweetheart.” His dimpled grin and perfect smile almost has your stomach in butterflies.

“I basically live here, besides your boss is the one who left the door unlocked. Maybe it’s a good thing you’re upping your security around here,” you tease, gulping down the rest of the beer before sliding the empty bottle over.

“We’ll see about this Steve guy you won’t shut up about, who knows Eddie, maybe it’s you who’s got a crush.”

Sweeping up the mess you made behind his bar he smirks before wiggling his brows.

“Everyone’s got a crush on Steve, baby.”

The pink fluorescent lights of the Foxy Lounge sign that hangs outside your window paints your studio in a blush tinted glow. It bleeds through the sheer floor length curtains, softening its harshness in a way that you liked. The darkness outside always makes it shine brightest around this time, a constant fight with your overhead lamp before bed. Your eyes catch the glaring red numbers on your clear digital clock reading 8:45pm.

Shit. You’re late.

No Doubt’s I’m Just A Girl plays loud enough through your boom box speakers to drown out the murmurs of the bar downstairs that spill through the slight crack in your bedroom window. You finish the last touch ups to the bubble gum colored gloss that coats your lips, smacking them together loudly. You give yourself a sweet smile in the mirror before fluttering your lashes for good measure. The finishing touch.

Finally feeling ready enough to leave, you adjust the black velvet choker around your neck with lavender painted nails. They highlight the lime green tube top that wraps around your chest as you pull at your black maxi skirt that sits above your hips hugging your curves just right.

You give yourself one last once over while you slip on your clunky Steve Madden slides, telling yourself the whole time you didn’t get all done up for the new bouncer. Instead you tell yourself it’s because you want to get lucky with the guy that invited you to get last minute drinks conveniently at the bar you above.

Turning around to give your studio apartment the safety check, you shuffle over your baby blue carpet with loud clacks from your sandals to hurriedly straighten your pink comforter and snuff out your incense. Grabbing your bag, you rush out with a flip of the light switch, only getting two steps away before having to pop back in to grab your keys hanging by the door.

The platforms on your slides are heavy as you make your way down the staircase, the narrow hallway bouncing your steps off the walls despite the cushion of the ugly brown carpet. One hand on the banister and the other dragging along the wall for balance, you pick up your pace barreling towards the door. Pushing it open with more force than normal, you hit something on the other side, hard.

An oof and the sound of plastic skidding across the sidewalk is followed by the crash of a stool that must’ve belonged to whoever was sitting on it. Stepping onto the pavement with a clack from your sandals, you stop in your tracks when you see his broad shoulders first. Bent over, you watch him collect what looks like an orange Tamagotchi, stuffing it quickly in his back pocket before brushing the dust off his dark denim clad thighs. The way he fills his jeans has your mouth dry up and his muscles flex under the black cotton shirt that wraps tight around his torso, the seams barely containing what’s underneath. Turning around he runs a big hand through his honey colored locks that stop just below his ears, pushing the fly aways from his face while the shine of the street lamp highlights his cheekbones and sharp jaw.

God you hated when Eddie was right.

Hazel eyes rake over your form while yours follow the freckles that run along his neck that lead to small moles placed like a cluster of stars along his jaw. His chiseled nose runs down a narrow line with lips tinged pink like his cheeks. The expression on his face going from irritated to flirty in a matter of seconds flat, the whites of his teeth showing when he gives you an easy smile.

“I’m - oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m running late and no one is ever sitting there and I - Are you okay?” Talking a mile a minute, you hate that he has your nerves getting the best of you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Raising his hands up to stop you, the press of your thighs is instant when you see the silver band wrapped around the thickness of his middle finger. “No apologies necessary, it was an accident, honey.”

The endearment leaves his mouth while his lips turn his smile crooked, and it makes you dizzy. Bending down to grab the stool off the ground, a matching chain slips out from under his shirt and the glow above gives you a glimpse at the patch of thick chest hair hidden from sight.

“Besides, it’s not the first time a pretty girl has knocked me on my ass.” Folding his arms across his pecs, he leans against the brick of the bar crossing his legs at the ankles. The black boots that cover his feet look big and menacing despite his disposition.

Biting your bottom lip into a smile, you look up at him through shy lashes and you swear you hear him sigh at the sight.

“Well as long as you’re okay-“

“Steve,” he offers his name with a flash of his teeth again, a spark lighting in his eyes when he sees the way you react to it.

“Well you’ll probably see my face around here a lot,” you say, doing your best to ignore the way your cheeks burn.

“I sure hope so.” Pulling a toothpick out of his back pocket, he slides it between his lips. Jaw clenching when he bites down on the wood while his eyes roam your curves again before offering you another grin.

It makes you do one thing a man has never made you genuinely do. You giggle. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you hardly recognize yourself anymore.

“I was gonna say, 'cause I live upstairs.” Your voice is sweet despite the roll of your eyes, his jaw clenches against the wood. He liked that.

He only breaks his stare to follow the path of your finger, his eyes lingering on your open window for a second before bringing all his attention back on you. The tension grows even thicker when he kicks off the wall, realization hitting him. The soles of his boots are loud against the pavement when he closes the distance between you with two long strides. Getting close enough to smell the cinnamon on his breath, and the expensive cologne that lingers on his bronzed skin, you forget all about your date waiting for you inside.

“Eddie’s told me all about you.” Using the tip of his tongue, he pushes the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his smirk telling you all you need to know.

“That’s funny, Eddie’s told me about you too,” you lick your lips, tasting the fruit of your gloss as you look up at him from under hooded shimmering lids, “Steve.”

He inches just a little closer to teeter on the edge of what’s appropriate before responding, “Oh yeah? Did you like what you heard baby?”

His smile is as sinful as it is blinding. A darkened gaze locked on yours as he pulls the tooth pick out his mouth letting the sharp end snag his bottom lip before stuffing it in his back pocket again.

The electricity in the air sparks and fizzes, standing close enough to see the freckles that line his nose and the specks of glitter smattered in a similar pattern on your cheeks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Raising an eyebrow, your response has him sucking his teeth before rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek accepting your answer with a nod of his head.

Pulling out a small red flashlight with a soft click of the button at the end, white light floods the dark. The beam roams over the expanse of your body with a purposeful path before stopping at his outstretched hand.

“I.D.?” Amusement evident in his voice, he wiggles his fingers at you keeping up with his charade. The motion daring to make a mess of your underwear.

You try to cover up your laugh with a fake scoff, making it come out loud enough for him to snort. Your lips twitch as you try to fight the losing battle with the smile threatening to break across your face.

“What? I need to be careful here sweetheart. It’s my first night, I gotta make sure you’re really who you say you are, and not just some pretty girl trying to flirt her way inside.” He keeps the perfect poker face while he tuts at you to hurry up for the invisible line behind you.

“Would it have worked?” you ask handing him your driver’s license, wincing internally at the picture he is about to see.

Brushing his fingers against yours when he takes it for closer examination, he huffs out a laugh before looking down at you with a smug grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He winks like an expert before making a big show of bringing your ID close to his face like it might be a fake.

Tsking to himself as he reads it over, he peeks over at you with a sly smirk. “A whole year older than me. Good for you, I like older women.”

Closing the space that developed when you had to dig in your purse, you snatch the plastic out of his hand, relishing in the way his breath hitches because of it. “I’m shocked you can read Steve, Eddie’s taste can be a bit…shoddy.”

“I think I’m pretty good at it actually, I’m good at reading a lot of things.” Ignoring your jab he’s quick to regain his confidence. “Things like, I don’t know, body language.” The spice of the cinnamon returns when he pulls out his toothpick again. He flashes you his pearly whites when he bites down, keeping his eyes locked on yours, a silent dare to prove him wrong.

Like magnets finding each other, the toes of his boots brush against your sandals. When did he get this close again?

Mariah Carey’s Fantasy cuts off any witty response that sits on the tip of your tongue as the bar door creaks open, rudely snapping you both back to reality. A boy who looks barely above the legal age is the culprit for popping your bubble, stopping dead in his tracks when the flirting bouncer’s attention redirects itself to where it should be. You already miss it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up, punk.” Grabbing the kid by the collar of his shirt, he mutters a ‘shit’ under his breath.

You take a step back, your eyes meeting Eddie's from inside, the commotion catching his and a few other patrons' stares, including your date.

Oh yeah, you had a date.

“I’m gonna need to see some I.D.” Steve’s voice drops deeper after he clears his throat, if his tamagotchi didn’t beep right after, signaling it’s need to be fed it would’ve been more intimidating. Your own digital pet buried at the bottom of your bag probably doing the same, already reborn fresh this morning from forgetting it at home while at work the night before.

“Umm, you see, I left my wallet at home,” the kid starts to stammer, the metal of his braces showing when he gives the bouncer a nervous grin.

Almost forgetting he had an audience, Steve’s eyes meet yours, softening before that million dollar smile takes over his handsome face.

“You’re free to go in. You know where to come when you wanna talk about all those things you liked hearing about me.”

Your stomach flutters despite the roll of your eyes at his words and you're reminded crossing the threshold that you’re here to meet another man, already scolding yourself for not taking Eddie’s warning seriously.

“I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you, Steve?” You linger in the door frame, looking at him from over your shoulder, and it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“You already know the answer to that, gorgeous.” His toothpick switches sides again before finally going back to doing his job, tugging the kid closer.

“I.D. or no entry dick head.”

Despite there being no line outside, the bar was pretty full. The low buzz of conversation before the drinks really start to hit filling the crowded space. Mariah finishes her last high note when your eyes connect with Eddie’s before meeting Devin’s. He’s dressed like Danny Tanner and it makes you cringe. Pushing up his wire frame glasses, he waves so eagerly the Salmon’s that cover his dress shirt look like they're swimming in the background rapids with the movements of his arm. He’s completely oblivious to Eddie mocking him behind his back, mouthing ‘DORK’ with a shit eating grin before finally attending to the girl with smeared makeup that had been desperately trying to get his attention from the other end of the bar.

You take a deep breath, readjusting the strap of your bag before you push your chin up making your way over. Determined to have a good time, you put on your best face, returning his wave with forced enthusiasm while Steve’s smile etches itself into your memory permanently.

Paula Abdul’s Vibeology starts pumping through the speakers around you, the sticky floor vibrating with the bass under your sandals as you sway your hips to the beat. He stands up when you approach his spot at the bar and you notice his button up is tucked into mustard colored corduroy slacks, and it makes you miss the tight fitting denim of the man outside even more. Shaking your head to try and get rid of all the thoughts swirling in your head about the guy you weren’t on a date with, you desperately try to match Devin’s excited energy when he opens his arms for a hug.

“I was starting to get worried you were standing me up.” He laughs nervously as you tuck yourself into his chest. Your eyes peek over his shoulder meeting Eddie’s again as he slides your favorite drink over (tequila and pineapple), and god you wish you hadn’t.

Wiggling his eyebrows, you flip him the bird behind Devin’s back watching the bartender pretend to catch it and put it in his pocket making your eyes hit the back of your skull.

“No, sorry, I just lost track of the time.” Not a total lie you leave out the fact that you forgot about him completely just a few minutes ago. Pulling away, you avoid his eyes, too scared they’ll give you away.

“All is forgiven, pretty lady.” He bows slightly, and you have to ignore the way Eddie snorts as he walks past with hands full of Miller Lite.

“You’re so sweet,” cringing at how fake your voice comes out but Devin doesn’t seem to notice as you both take your seats, knees barely touching between the space of the stools.

“Thanks for agreeing to drinks tonight, I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now. Just didn’t know, w-with office etiquette a-and all,” stuttering, his nerves get the best of him. He tries to hide it behind a sip of his beer.

“No, I’m, I’m glad you did,”you lie, your eyes flicking to the door one more time before grabbing your drink. An awkward silence settles between the two of you as you press your lips to the rim to slurp at the top to prevent any spill over.

God, you already want this to be over.

The conversation does get easier after your first drink, the flirting a little less forced as your hand finds its way to squeeze his thigh when you laugh at something he says that’s only half funny. Choking on the foam from his beer from your sudden touch, he wipes his mouth bashful from his outburst. Eddie murmurs a “go easy on him tiger” when he gets you a refill, earning him your bratty tongue.

“So you transferred here last year from Portland, right Devin? What’s it like over there?” Resting your chin on your knuckles, you look up at him from under your lashes enjoying the way it makes his breath catch.

“It was- It was a lot different from here…”

Finally on your A game, you try not to pay attention when the front door opens behind your date. It’s to no avail when you catch his figure in your peripheral and you can’t fight it anymore. All the progress you’ve made going out the window when Steve makes his first reappearance since your arrival.

Toothpick replaced with what looked like Big Red chewing gum, his hazel eyes scan the crowd before landing on you. The smirk that you’d been trying to forget tugs at the corners of his lips, and any luck that Devin might have had with you tonight disappears like that.

The bouncer looks pointedly at the man beside you, sizing him up, smile stretching wider when he assesses his threat. Leaning against the wall, he crosses his arms across his chest so the sleeves of his shirt look like they are being pushed to their limits as the muscles in his biceps flex. Hips pushed out in a way that’s daring you to look below his waist, he throws you a wink with a snap of his gum.

“...So yeah, that’s the long and short , it,” Devin finishes with a proud smile and you just nod, not catching a single word he said.

Steve’s stare is relentless, and your body responds to it without you having to even meet his gaze. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, jaw clenching with every hard chew of his gum. Pushing himself off the wall, he starts a slow walk towards you. Big heavy steps bring him closer, every thud of his boots making your thighs clench, as you try desperately to stay concentrated.

Your date’s in the middle of another story that sounds like white noise, your lack of attention making him a babbling mess. He doesn’t notice the way Steve stops next to him first, giving him a once over from up close to make sure he wasn’t missing something from afar before coming up to you with the kind of smile that’s dripping with trouble.

“....So the logistics of it are kinda crazy when you think-“

“Just checking on my pretty new friend over here,” Steve cuts Devin off, not interested in anything but you. His large hand finds the small of your back, his palm almost big enough to cover the exposed skin between your skirt and top. It sends a shiver up your spine that the pad of his thumb soothes when it rubs circles over your sprouting goosebumps. “Having a good night, baby?”

The pet name falls so smoothly off his tongue that it takes Devin a minute to realize that it even left Steve’s mouth, a scowl souring his face when he sees the way your eyes glaze over looking up at the bouncer.

“Yeah, I’m having a real nice time Steve.” Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, he notices the subtle way you lean into his touch. Your body needy for more.

“You better be.” He winks, letting the blunt ends of his nails scratch along your back before adding salt to Devin’s wound, “And you know where to find me if that changes.”

There’s a knowing smirk that plays on the edges of his mouth, biting his lip he finally tears his eyes away from you to give a head nod to the date you’d forgotten about for the second time tonight. Steve tosses him a wink too, a gesture that makes Devin’s jaw clench. Steve opens his mouth to say something that was sure to piss him off more, but he’s cut off by the sound of Eddie’s rings slamming hard on the bar behind you.

“Dude! What the fuck are you doing inside? Do you know how many people have walked in without getting checked? It's PEAK hours!” The bartender's eyes are frantic, fingers running through his curls as he yells at his friend. “Quit flirting and go do your job. Also, is that a fucking kid man?”

Eddie points to the boy that the bouncer stopped earlier who was snooping around abandoned tables in search for leftovers he was definitely not of legal age for, Steve’s cheeks tint the color of your lipgloss when he looks at you with sheepish eyes. The confidence he was dripping with disappears into embarrassment while doing his best to ignore the smug look on your date’s face.

“Calm down man, it was three minutes! I’ll get rid of the fuckin’ kid. Again.” He rubs the back of his neck as he walks away, stalking towards the boy who looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Hey asshole! You must’ve grown eight years in twenty minutes for me to be seeing you here!”

The boy raises his hands up in surrender slowly backing away, giving Steve an opportunity to turn around to toss you one last smile and wiggle his fingers at Devin before focusing on the high schooler who is already halfway out the door. The kid's walk turns into a run when Steve cracks his knuckles for show, following him out with long strides, disappearing back outside and out of sight.

You’re left with awkward silence between you and your date as Eddie stomps away muttering under his breath. Devin clears his throat, twirling his beer, the glass against the wood making a sound that starts to grate on your nerves. He’s daring you to look at him. The huff he exhales afterwards begs you to look. Your mind races with ideas of how to get out of this and when you dare to finally take a peek, he’s looking forward, emptying the last of his bottle.

“I’m gonna go smoke a cigarette!” You blurt out, grabbing your bag and leaving no time for a response. Your sandals clack as you power walk to the door. To Steve.

The summer night is sticky on your face when you step out of the bar, the sound of a girl’s sniffled “You’re right Steve” directing your stare to the bouncer you were looking for. Sitting on the very stool you knocked him off of, his big boots sit on the lowest footrest with his knees spread wide. Inviting. His eyes connect with yours, widening a bit when you smirk at him while getting yourself comfortable on the brick wall on the opposite side of the door. Digging your cigarettes out of your purse, you notice the girl next to him has mascara running down her cheeks that she only makes worse when she wipes them with the back of her hand.

“You know Maryanne, it sounds like this isn’t the first time he’s done this to you. I think it’s time to kick him to the curb. You deserve better.” He speaks to her like they’ve been friends their whole lives and you have no idea how he’s learned so much about her in the few minutes he’s been outside. Crossing his arms as he leans back enough for the legs of the stool to pull up, he catches himself with his shoulders against the wall behind him.

“He sounds like a chump if you ask me,”you chime in, lighting your cigarette. Steve’s smile shines under the pink luminescent sign above him when he hears your voice. The wooden legs of his stool smacking loud against the cement when he pushes off the wall.

She’s startled by your sudden appearance, not noticing when you came out - too lost in her own world. She gives you a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes before she nods, tugging at her high pony and somehow making it higher. The sequined scrunchy in her hair catches the street light as she tries hyping herself up to return to whoever was making her cry inside.

“He is a chump, but most men are.” She sighs, her shoulders relaxing a little more as she calms down.

“You’ve got this honey, tell him to fuck off and go home with Lisa if that’s what he wants so bad,” Steve champions, patting her on the back, a new layer to Maryanne’s story being revealed. His eyes flick back to you as you take a drag, the mossy green going dark when he watches your cheeks hollow.

“Thanks for listening Steve, I’m gonna go back in now.” She wipes her nose one more time, before giving you a polite head nod.

“Have Eddie make you something sweet, and tell him it’s on me.” The bouncer winks, giving her the boost of confidence she needs before opening the door you just came out of. Monifah’s Touch It adds to the tension between Steve and you when it leaks out of the bar as she disappears inside. The bass thumps against the brick, leaving the song just muffled enough to be background noise when it closes behind her.

The air is heavier, thicker with something you both know is there. Playing hard to get, you don’t meet his gaze, despite feeling it over every curve and dip of your body. Inhaling another hit of nicotine, you lift your head up to exhale the smoke into the dark sky, extending your neck for him to see before you finally give in and chance a glance in his direction.

He looks far too handsome, smiling wide when you meet his eyes, all his perfectly white teeth baring themselves at you in a way that makes your legs shake.

“Missed me already baby?” His feet hit the sidewalk, his man spread somehow bigger this way as he scoots closer to the edge of the stool.

“You’re not very good at your job, are you?” You grin, successfully dodging the answer he already knows as your head hits the side of the building. Tilting your chin in his direction with your lip tucked between your teeth, you catch his narrowed glare.

“Nice try sweetheart, I used to watch Road House, religiously. I learned from the best. I’m just distracted,” the buttery smoothness of his voice returns, the last of his sentence coming out in a purr.

“Distracted?” You quirk a brow, not giving into him just yet.

“Yes, very much so and I regret to inform you that it’s all your fault too.” He sticks his bottom lip out at you in a pout, earning the giggle he’d been trying to get again since he first heard it, even if it's accompanied by your pretty eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“I’m on a date, Steve.” Even though you know it’s a weak comeback at this point, you still give it and he doesn’t miss a beat.

“Where? I don’t see him.”

Your cheeks heat up at his observation so you take another drag of your half smoked cigarette to try and hide the way he’s affecting you.

“I’m supposed to be quittin’, but you’re makin’ it look too good, pretty girl. Let me have a puff?” His question is an invitation, making the first move to call your bluff, to get you closer.

“Is that why you seem to have a cinnamon addiction?” you tease, not surprised when you kick off the wall accepting it with a smirk and an exaggerated sway of your hips.

He licks his lips while his eyes roam the length of your body unashamed, one large hand raking through his hair when you stop close enough to smell the topic of discussion on his breath.

“Could be addicted to worse,” he murmurs, not sure where to look having you between his legs like this.

“It’s a Newport, S‘that okay, Steve?” you ask him from underneath flirting lashes. His breath hitching before a sly smirk spreads across his pink lips.

“More than okay baby.” He leans closer, fingers wrapping around the plush curve of your hip to anchor you in place.

Tipping up on your toes, your hand comes down on his thigh making the muscle flex against your palm, your touch sending shocks through the rough denim while the other holds the gloss stained end up to his mouth.

Steve holds your stare when his lips wrap around where yours just were. His nails dig half crescent moons into your exposed skin as his cheeks hollow out. You can feel your heartbeat between your legs, your brows meeting in the middle when he tugs you even closer before tilting his head up. The thick expanse of his neck on full display as he blows out his drag, adam's apple bobbing in the light making the moles dance across his skin.

“The strawberry really sets it off.” He grins as his hand dares to slide down the top curve of your ass, making it his new home when you make no moves to get away from him.

“Thanks, it’s my favorite gloss.” You shrug, pretending to unphased by his teasing, but the mess in your panties would give you away if he could see.

“Maybe I could get a better taste,” his words are bold, but his free hand is bolder. Soft fingertips play with the top hem of your skirt, daring to dip under the fabric every once and awhile and he swears he hears you whimper.

“You want more?” Your voice comes out small, dripping in honey just for him. You know what he really wants, but he’s not gonna get it yet.

“God, if you’ll let me honey.” There’s a light squeeze on the dough of your ass, and it makes you flutter around nothing.

You lean in slowly, your hand moving further up his thigh watching the way his chest starts to rise and fall from it. Stretching the cotton of his shirt with every breath. The fingers that had been exploring the top of your skirt start a path up to the bottom of your top. A low hum coming from under his breath when the sweetness of your body lotion hits his nose.

His eyes shut when your faces get close enough that he feels like he can taste the strawberry that he wants so bad. He doesn’t notice when you pull back at the last second to replace your kiss with another puff until your cigarette shoves past his puckered lips.

When he opens them, he’s met with your giggles, a sound he wants on a loop. He pretends to glare, still taking the hit you were offering him, exhaling it through his nose like an angry bull. He opens his mouth to chastise you but the beeping of his digital pet interrupts his intimidating moment again.

“Gotta get that?” Your lips twitch while you try to contain your laugh, flicking the cigarette onto the street.

“Listen, my best friend got it for me. I thought it was incredibly stupid, and I definitely told her it was too.” The hand on your waist leaves to dig his Tamagotchi out of his front pocket. “But now I’m attached to the little guy.”

The key chain sized toy lights up in his hand, as he starts to feed it with a press of a button.

“Mine died yesterday,” you admit and the laugh you’d been fighting off echoes loudly when he looks up at you horrified.

“What? Do you have it with you now?”he questions as the small happy tune plays signaling that his pet is fully satisfied.

“She’s somewhere in my bag, don’t worry she was reborn this morning,” your words don’t reassure him considering they seem to need food every thirty minutes and you haven’t pulled it out once since he’s met you.

“Sounds like you want her to die again to me.” Steve’s very real concern about your Tamagotchi has you smirking.

“They die so easily, you’re telling me yours hasn’t died?”

Your jaw drops when he shakes his head ‘no’, a smugness taking over his handsome features.

“Steve, that’s like really hard to do.” You don’t know whether you should be impressed or roast him but when his hand grips at your ass one more time you decide it’s the first.

“Better give her to me for the night baby, I’ll keep her nice and healthy for my favorite girl.” Stuffing his back into his pocket, he holds his palm open for you in a vow to keep your digital pet alive and an excuse to see you later.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you obey his wishes. Digging to the bottom of your bag till you find your purple one. The screen already going off, and the muffled beeping that signaled the need for it to be fed finally becomes loud enough to hear.

“See! I told you. On the cusp of death already.”

You drop it in his hand, right as an older trucker comes barreling out of the bar reminding you where you’re at and that Devin is still waiting inside. Again.

“Fuck, I should go back in.” You sigh as your fingers play with the seam on the leg of his jeans.

“Go back in and tell that guy to get lost,” the bouncer almost whines, his grip on your hip tightening before he lets you go.

“Steve,” you huff but the smile on your face gives him hope.

“Just saying sweetheart, could be fun.” He shrugs, putting on an air of nonchalance while your Tamagotchi dangles from his thumb.

You both know who you really want to go home with tonight.

The bubble you and Steve are in pops as soon as you get back inside The sound of the distant cars on the freeway and Steve’s voice is replaced with Return of the Mack and the crowd that was at a simmer when you first got here is now at a full boil.

You have to get rid of Devin.

He’s right where you left him, hunched over and twirling his beer bottle on top of the bar. You notice the three empty shot glasses before you see Eddie dropping off another one while giving you the kind of eyes that say ‘Come take care of your date’ as he walks away. Taking a deep breath, you make your way towards him going over all the ways you can let him down easy while your nerves drown out the little bit of guilt you had for ditching him.

“Heeeey,” your voice is high pitched, awkwardness dripping from its tone when you finally return to your stool next to him.

Crickets.

You freeze - he’s ignoring you. How can you get rid of him if he’s ignoring you? Your eyes shift around the bar nervously, offering an awkward tight lipped smile when anyone meets your stare. You search for Eddie again, hoping to silently ask for help but his back is to you, clearly putting the moves on a girl at the other end.

“Devin.”

You hope that saying his name will elicit the desired response but that dwindles quickly when he chugs the rest of his beer, continuing his charade and keeping his gaze forward before slamming the empty bottle down.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he grumbles, irritation laced in every word before he pushes off the stool still not meeting your eyes.

You wait till he’s out of earshot before you let out a groan, your long disappearance clearly pissed him off. Propping yourself up by your elbows on the sticky bar, you close your eyes, rubbing your temples while you try to think of the right way to go about this. Eddie’s knowing chuckle is the last thing you want to hear but that’s just how the night is going now.

“You pretty little scoundrel!” He slaps the spot in front of you forcing your eyes open, his smile only widening when you glare at him.

“He’s so pissed and now thanks to you,” gesturing towards the empty shot glasses Eddie gets rid of with quick hands, you avoid the real reason, “He’s gonna be trashed!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa sweetheart. I’m not the one who can’t keep their hands off Stevie boy. And on a date too? Tsk tsk tsk.” He crosses his arms with a shake of his head, “Now you broke poor Derek’s -“

“Devin.”

“Whatever - fish guy’s heart. Aren’t you in a little predicament hmm?” Eddie hums the last part, but you can see the excited glint in his eyes. He loves watching your escapades.

“Listen,” you can’t help the giggle that bubbles past your strawberry lips under his knowing gaze, “When you told me he was hot Eddie, you didn’t tell me he was that hot.”

Smirking, you enjoy watching the way his face contorts knowing that was a damn lie.

“Are you kidding?” He throws his hands in the air, giving you the reaction you were baiting him for, “It was the first thing I told you.”

You laugh loudly at his exasperation with your antics, almost forgetting about Devin entirely for the third time tonight.

“Have fun figuring out this little love triangle you’ve created, I need to get to the rest of the paying customers so I can get back to that hottie at the end of the bar.” He points to the girl he was talking to earlier who’s sipping a drink she looks surprised to even like.

“I bet you aren’t charging her for anything are you?” You narrow your eyes playfully, cackling when he rolls his waving you off as he walks away.

Sliding off the stool, you tug up your tube top, ready to give it to Devin straight, more than eager to get back outside again.

“I knew the guys in the office said you were easy, but I didn’t think you’d be spreading your legs for anything that walked on our date.” Devin’s voice comes as a surprise, but the tight grip on your arm pulling you to him is an even bigger one.

Searing rage fills every part of your body at the fact that he put his hands on you, palms flat on his chest, you use all your strength to shove him away. Shock paints his features, not expecting you to fight back so aggressively. All the drinks he’s had make him stumble back, losing his footing almost falling into the couple next to him.

“Well I’m sure as shit not spreading them for you!” you spit, looking him up and down with disgust before putting a finger in his face, “And your shirt? It’s fucking ugly.”

You give him one last once over before shaking your head and walking away. Heading back towards the entrance, you notice Steve inside again. A hard glare is set on his face, nostrils flaring as he zeros in on Devin behind you who’s still trying to regain his balance.

God, it’s the hottest he’s looked all night.

Steve’s hazel eyes meet yours and they instantly soften when you can’t help but smile as he opens the door for you.

“Thanks Stevie,” using Eddie’s nickname, you run your hands across his chest when you walk by, just to add salt to Devin’s wound.

The flush that paints his cheeks tells you how much he likes it.

“When I told you to ditch your date, I didn’t mean to fist fight him, honey,” he teases, following you outside, letting the chipped red door shut behind you and muffling the sounds of the bar again.

“He got mad about my little disappearance before I could let him down easy.” Turning around, you bite your bottom lip to try to hide your growing smile.

“Poor guy.” Steve grins before taking the two steps to close the gap, to crowd your space. Cinnamon fanning across your face, “Never stood a chance.”

It’s harder for you to breathe when he looks at you like he wants to kiss you, but before you can respond, the door flies open.A drunk Devin stumbling out with a glare breaking you two apart.

“Of course, of FUCKING course. Not even two seconds later? You really are a slut, huh?” Devin seethes, stumbling out onto the sidewalk.

“I’m really going to need you to watch your mouth champ. No need to call girls names. You’re a big boy.” Steve’s tone is condescending as he squares up, making sure you’re behind him.

“You think you’re so fucking cool,” Devin scoffs before hiccuping, “Careful with this one, she’s probably sucked your buddy’s dick inside too.”

“Yeah, that’s enough, asshole. Go home, before I have to beat some respect into that ugly skull of yours.” Steve cracks his knuckles again, but it doesn’t have the same effect as before, Devin only raising his eyebrows at the bouncer.

“Respect? That’s funny. The whore behind you hasn’t heard of it.”

Steve loses his cool and like a flash he’s on him. Pulling his fist back Steve moves just a little too slow and Devin clocks him right in the jaw. The sound of bone against bone echoes loudly into the night. Stumbling back, Steve cradles where an ugly bruise will start forming in the morning, rubbing it out. He cracks his neck before barreling towards Devin, taking him down to the ground like a football player.

In a flurry of fists and cuss words, Devin somehow gets Steve pinned. The alcohol and anger flowing through his system turns him into The Hulk. Your screams for them to stop fall on deaf ears while they continue to roll around on the ground. Panic sets in when you realize neither man is going to stop. Doing the only thing you know how to do in these situations, you get Eddie.

Frantic, you open the door, ignoring the fact that Third Eye Blind is playing at the exact worst time, you scream Eddie’s name loud enough to silence the bar.

“Eddie! It’s bad. Steve needs you!”

He looks up from a clearly flirtatious conversation with the girl from before, both of their eyes landing on you as you get your friends attention. He grumbles, grabbing her hands saying something to her that makes her nod bashfully before jumping over the bar top. Jogging out the front, he towers easily over the two men, neither one of you bothering to check the red heads I.D. that walks in after you.

“The first fucking night man!” Eddie yells at Steve, grabbing Devin by the back of his shirt pulling him off the bouncer with ease, but not before Steve gets one more cheap shot in.

He wrestles against Eddie’s grip for a second before finally giving up with a hiccup, hocking a loogie in Steve’s direction.

“You done?” The bartender's face is unamused, as he waits for Devin to nod. “I never wanna see you or your shitty ass style at my bar again. Beat it bozo before I give you a matching black eye to go with the one Steve gave you.”

Two against one is too much for Devin to take on, so he raises his hands up in surrender when Eddie lets him go. Rolling his tongue against his cheek he shoots you one last glare before turning on his heel. Flipping everyone off as he starts down the sidewalk. Steve returns the gesture, spitting at his retreating form.

“You good?” Eddie asks, extending his hand for his friend to take.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just hate that guy.” Steve mumbles, looking everywhere but at you while he straightens his shirt and dusts off his jeans with bloody knuckles.

“Your hand dude, I can’t have you bleeding all over people I.D’s. and I know Rick doesn’t have a first aid kit. At least I’ve never seen one.” Eddie rubs the back of his neck, stress coming in the form of knitted brows.

“I’ve got one,” you mumble, finally finding your voice and the bartender claps, wiping his hands clean of the situation.

“There, go play nurse with lover boy and get out of my hair tonight. I’m like this close,” he pinches two fingers together to show “to scoring and you both have been fucking it up every chance you can get. I swear to god.”

Eddie waves you off as he makes his way back in, and you can feel the shift in energy between you and the bouncer you’ve been wanting all night.

Steve’s quiet the whole walk up the stairs to your apartment, fuming with anger and embarrassment, the confidence from before gone while the bruise on his jaw deepens and he cradles his bleeding knuckles.

“This is me,” you break the silence cringing, your voice amplified in the walls of the narrow hallway while you dig out your key.

“Thanks for this, angel,” his words come out in just above a whisper but at least it’s something.

The endearment has a smile creeping across your face and you finally dare to turn around to get a look at him after you hear the click of your lock. You press your back against your open door, it’s your turn to extend an invitation.

“Anytime Stevie.”

His face softens the minute he lays his eyes on you again, jealous of the way you bite your bottom lip sweetly, he wishes it was him.

You let Steve into your world one heavy boot at a time, locking the door behind you. Watching the way his dimmed eyes brighten, curiosity winning over any leftover irritation. The ghost of a smirk twitches at the corners of his lips while he walks the small space of your studio taking everything in. The neon sign outside your window is the only light that illuminates it, shadows dancing off trinkets on shelves and pictures on walls, he was getting a glimpse of you.

He stops in the middle of your room, right at the edge of your bed. The dark denim and leather that cover him are a stark contrast against your baby blue rug, but you think he looks like he belongs here. You watch the way he takes in your hastily made bed, licking his lips when he sees a pair of panties that didn’t quite make it in the laundry basket in the corner. The radio you’d forgotten to turn off plays a commercial, filling the space between you, and you aren’t prepared for when he puts his full attention back on you again after not having it for the past twenty minutes. Your body responds immediately to the playful glint in his eye.

“Cute place, for a cute girl.” He grins, running his good hand through his hair before he walks over to the window to take a look at your view.

“I bet you say that to all of em’,” you tease because it’s easier to do with his back to you. Making your way to the bathroom, nerves burst like butterflies in your stomach.

“You’re the only one baby.”

His response is quick as he turns around, the flirting you’d grown accustomed to coming back like a raging storm. He watches your hips while you walk the short distance with a heavy stare that covers every part of you. Leaning against the door frame with your curves on full display, something shifts behind his eyes. Flipping the lightswitch, white beams break apart the pink, highlighting even more of you for him to drink in.

“Come on handsome, let’s get you patched up.”

His cheeks flush at the new nickname and it's his turn to bite his lip in a shy smile for you.

It doesn’t take more than a few steps for his long legs, the wood creaking under his weight. Pressing your back to the frame, he stops in front of you with one foot over the threshold and the other still in your room. He takes up so much space. His biceps flex when he reaches for your hip, tugging you even closer, you can smell the menthol still lingering on his breath. On instinct your palm hits his chest, muscles dancing under heated skin as you tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. Squeezing at your softness before he speaks, he lets his middle finger dip under the top of your skirt.

“I really meant it when I said thank you back there. Just need you to know that.” His finger dares to dip lower, rubbing circles that make your back arch, hips pushing forward on a search for his. The curve of your stomach touches the cool metal of his belt buckle and the heat of his body sets fire between your thighs.

“I know you did,” your voice is sweet for him, the tone you know he likes while your hand moves down the dip between his pecs, “Thank you for sticking up for me.”

You can feel the coarse hair that starts at the top of his belly button where your hand stops, and you swear you feel him twitch in his pants. A second one of his fingers finds its way under your skirt and another subtle tug gets you even closer. So close that all you’d have to do is stand on your tiptoes for your lips to touch.

“Anything for you, pretty girl,” he breathes, spice and tobacco taking over. His adam’s apple bobs when he catches the way you start staring at his lips, the gloss on your own shimmering in the new light.

“Anything?” Quirking your brow with a smirk, your innuendo makes him moan and his hold on you tighten.

“Absolutely.” Ducking his head lower so his nose brushes against the bridge of yours, he dares you to make the first move.

“In that case…” Pressing your toes down to push yourself up, the playful glint in your eye goes unnoticed by him.

Your lips are a ghost, his top one barely brushing against your bottom, it's enough for him to taste the strawberry he wanted more of outside but not enough to satisfy. His eyes flutter closed waiting to feel their full plushness but your words bring him back to reality.

“Sit on the toilet for me.”

The specks of emerald shine again when his eyes snap open to see you flat on your feet with a grin. Groaning loudly with fake irritation, he lets go of you in exasperated defeat, letting his head fall back and hit the wood of the frame.

“What? We came up here for my first aid kit, didn't we?” You giggle after you say it, you don’t mean it.

“Sure, sure, yeah, yeah.” Nodding, he runs a hand through his hair while he looks around your bathroom.

It smells like your coconut body wash and it drives him crazy. He takes an unexpected step forward, his hand finding its way back to your hip to push you against the wall. One heavy boot between your wedged sandals, getting just close enough to kiss you. Is he going to?

It's your eyes that flutter closed this time, your fingers wrapping themselves around his belt loops again. He’s tentative with his injured hand when he uses it to cradle your jaw. His palm is soft as it covers half your neck, his thumb pushing up against your chin to tilt your face up to his. He runs the tip of his nose along your cheek and you feel your knees start to get weak, a whimper begging to fall from your parted lips.

“If that’s the only thing we’re here to do then we should get to it then, huh?”

Just as quick as he invades your space, he leaves it. The porcelain of your toilet seat cover clunks loudly when he drops himself on it. Spread out like on the stool outside, he takes over the room, leaving you to catch your breath with a smug grin.

It’s a staring contest with narrowed eyes after that, but the twitch of your lips tells him you aren’t actually mad. He snorts when you clear your throat to regain your composure, purposely ignoring the obvious when you bend over to open the cabinet under the sink, pulling out the bright red zip up bag.

“We need to wash your knuckles first, then I’ll put some ointment on them and wrap it up for you. We’ll keep it that way for the night and we can check on it in the morning.” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them and he catches the slip up instantly.

“Oh? You need to keep me overnight for observations?”

You bite your lip to try and hide your smile, grabbing a washcloth running it under hot water instead of looking at him.

“You know what I meant, I’ll come check on it tomorrow when you get to work.” You don’t even believe your lie, and the toothy smile you catch from the corner of your eye tells you he doesn’t either.

“But nurse, I don’t know. I think I should stay, I got hit in the face too. Concussions you know? I really shouldn’t be alone tonight.” He lays it on thick, eating up the way he sees you loving it spreading across your face when you ring out the soapy rag.

You don’t try to hide it when you finally face him, or when you settle between his legs for the second time tonight. The new position has him eye level with your chest, easier access to his lips. You hold your palm out for him, your hand disappearing completely when he drapes his wounded one over it.

“Concussion, huh? Are you feeling light headed Steve?” You play along giving your best impression of a medical professional.

He hisses when you press the damp cloth to his knuckles, sucking in air between his teeth when you start to clean. The soothing circles the pad of your thumb rubs on the side of his hand is almost enough to distract him from it.

“Yeah, but that started before I got hit.”

You finally dare to meet his gaze, a flattered smile spreading wide across your face that you try to play down with a roll of your eyes.

“Hmmm,” you hum to yourself, deciding not to give in just yet as you switch from the rag to the ointment, getting the bandaging and medical tape out.

“I mean, you’re the professional honey. You tell me.” You feel his good hand tug at the bottom of your skirt while you smear the neosporin on his knuckles with a q-tip, his long fingers flexing at the cooling effect.

“It started before you got hit?” You question with a fake pensive expression, gently taking his palm in your hand to start the wrapping process.

“Yeah, you see, this girl hit me with a door earlier. Knocked me clean off my stool.” He makes the motion of him falling with a swipe of his hand, “ and I haven’t been the same since if I’m being completely honest.”

It takes everything inside you to not give him the satisfaction of a laugh, the way you met coming back to the forefront of your mind.

“Some would argue putting your stool in front of the door like that is kinda stupid, but that's just my professional opinion.” Your shrug earns a loud laugh from him and you relish in it, promising yourself you’ll get him to do it again.

“All done.” You let go of his hand and he already misses you holding it, but the proud look on your face is a good distraction while you admire your handy work.

He holds it up, and you still can’t get over just how big they are. Curling his fingers in before extending them, he only winces slightly from the pain. The pressure of the bandage already helping. He jumps slightly when the backs of your fingers smooth over the fresh bruise forming on his jaw, the stubble tickling your skin. His eyes watch yours as they rake over the damage, the softness of your touch almost enough to make his eyelids heavy when you stroke the sore spot again.

“What do you think, huh?” His question comes out quiet, the playful edge gone while both his hands find the back of your legs. Rough fingertips run up your calves, catching the bottom of your skirt as they go, “Are you gonna keep me baby?”

A shiver runs up your spine when he hits the back of your thighs and you feel yourself getting pulled closer. He drags his nose up the bare skin of your sternum while his hands grab doughy handfuls just below the curve of your ass. The sound of your moan when his fingers get high enough to just barely graze the soaked material between your weakening legs sends him into overdrive. Growling, he nips at the tops of one of your breasts.

“Come on, tell me, what’s it gonna be?” Despite trying to sound confident, there’s a desperation in the way he asks. He knows you want it but he needs you to say it.

It’s when his fingers slip under the lace trim of your panties that you finally give in with a gentle grab of his chin. His eyes are black when they meet yours, the ends of his nails digging into soft skin.

“Yeah, I’m gonna keep you.” You give into an urge you’ve had since you laid eyes on him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you spread yourself open for his hands to wander.

He doesn’t hold back anymore and you’re reminded of just how tall he actually is when he stands up. His actions are quick and with purpose, the strength you knew was behind those muscles showing itself when he lifts you onto the edge of the sink with your skirt rucked up to your hips. He man handles you in a way no one ever has and you feel it light a fire in your gut. Impatient for his next move, you grab the collar of his shirt while his hands spread wide over the tops of your thighs, your lips finally getting to do what they’ve wanted all night.

It’s soft at first, both of you moving slow as you figure out what the other likes, careful not to hurt his jaw. One of his hands finds its way back to your cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing the length of the bone while his tongue begs you to open up. He traces the top of your lip, shuddering at the taste of the strawberry and it makes him wonder if your skin tastes like the coconut he smells.

You give him the access he wants, your tongues meeting in the middle, making the fire that had been begging to consume you pour out from your fingertips that bury themselves into the roots at the nape of his neck. You need more. The hard length that has been fighting against the denim of his jeans presses hard into where you want his attention, your legs wrap around him - silently begging him to do it again.

One arm snakes around your lower back, holding you flush against his chest, the grind of his hips giving you the friction that makes you keen. A moan and a breathless “fuck” is what breaks your lips apart when his zipper catches your swollen clit with just the right amount of pressure. He uses his new found freedom to kiss down the length of your jaw, humming against your heated skin when you tilt your head to give him better access to all the sensitive places he can’t wait to discover. He sucks the soft spot behind your ear when you meet the next roll of his hips, your slides falling loudly off your feet to the tile floor.

“Steve,” his name comes out in a high pitch whine when he starts sucking a bruise in a place you know you’ll have to try and cover up for the next few days. He was marking you, and you could care less. You hold him there, encouraging more as his teeth graze your pulse point, a “baby” slipping past his lips when he finally pulls away.

He meets your eyes with flushed cheeks and messy hair and the kind of hunger that makes you melt.

“Let me take you to bed, let me take care of you,” he’s panting, his hold on you tightening so you can feel just how bad he needs this. A smirk spreads across his swollen lips when your hips shift in search for more, giving him the answer he needs along with the nod of your head.

Just as easy as he lifted you on the sink, he carries you to the bed, big hands cradling thick thighs before he lays you on your back. Your giggle fills the space in between heavy pants before TLC’s Creep starts playing over the speakers of the radio. His hands find their way to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head and you watch an expanse of new freckles and moles get revealed to you. You want to kiss them all. They dot the spots next to the dark hair over his belly button while the thick thatch of chest hair you’d only gotten a glimpse of glistens with beads of sweat in the glow of the Foxy Lounge light.

His jeans hang low enough for you to get a glimpse of the veins protruding from the V shape that leads to the part of him that’s sure to make you forget your own name. His grin is cocky when he recognizes the expression on your face. Grabbing your ankle, he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. The bottom of your foot resting on the soft hair of his chest while long fingers hold you in place. He keeps his eyes trained on yours while he starts to trail wet kisses down the inside of your leg. The stubble covering his jaw scratching along his path in the best way. He stops when he gets to the soft skin of your knee, nipping playfully, he smirks at the squeal it earns him before he drops your leg in favor of curling his fingers under the top of your skirt.

You lift your hips for him without him having to ask, and the flash of his teeth is almost enough to blind you. He’s slick with his movements, taking your panties too. You hear his breath catch in his throat when he sees the effects all his teasing has on you. His fingers grip at your thighs before pulling your sticky skin apart with a lick of his lips.

“Look at you baby, all this for me?” The last part of his question comes out in a groan when he swipes the pad of his thumb against your bundle of nerves, kicking up in his jeans when your legs shake in response. “So sensitive too. Let me make her feel good, yeah?”

He swipes his thumb against your clit again making your eyes shut tight and your hips buck.

“I need to hear you say it.” He keeps rubbing circles, applying just enough pressure for you to forget how to speak, “Come on, be a good girl for me.”

His other hand pulls down your tube top, breasts spilling out in the blush light for his eyes to devour. He groans at the sight, his other hand coming up to cup the soft flesh feeling the way your nipples pebble against the warmth of his palm.

“Steeeeve, please.”

You’re whining for him and it makes his brows pinch together, feeling drunk off you.

“God angel, you’re fuckin’ beautiful you know that?” He emphasizes his question with his hands, giving your sides a squeeze while his eyes roam every dip and curve of your body. “Turn around for me? I wanna see all of you.”

The look on his face makes you decide that you’ll never deny him anything he asks, giving him a nod, you run your hands up his arms, nails dragging across the light hair before you push yourself up to get on all fours.

You feel completely exposed to him like this, all the secret places of your body on full display. He’s quiet for a minute and it’s almost enough for your nerves to get the best of you until you feel his palm find the apple of your ass. Fingers digging into doughy flesh, a groan loud enough to drown out the music erupts deep from his chest.

“Baby, baby, babyyy,” he emphasizes the last endearment with another handful before pulling your cheeks apart to get a better look at your dripping cunt, “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.”

Your hips wiggle at his words, your walls fluttering around nothing while the cool air from the overhead fan hits your heat, sending goosebumps dancing across your supple flesh. A dark chuckle leaves him when he sees how much power his words have over you. His knees hit the side of the mattress, one hand hooking around your hip while the other runs down the dip of your spine giving you a light push when he hits your shoulder blades until you're bent over for him.

“She likes when I talk to her, huh?” his voice is low, mesmerized when you start dripping on the bed for him and he’s barely touched you, “She likes when I call her pretty doesn’t she?”

The moan that leaves your mouth is pathetic and he wishes he could record it.

“Playing hard to get all night, but look at you.” His good hand comes down hard enough on your ass for the fat to jiggle and you to fist handfuls of your comforter because of it, “Making such a filthy mess and I haven’t even put my mouth on you yet.”

His grip is rough when he tugs your hips, the outline of his dick pressing into you, the denim scratching against your clit in a way that has your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Tell me how much you want my mouth baby, tell me how much you want me to make you cum.” He grinds against you again, only this time making sure to apply the kind of pressure that makes your back arch.

“Fuck - Steve, please I want it. I’ve wanted it all night. I’ve wanted it all night,” you're babbling as he circles his hips, fingers kneading your soft skin.

Satisfied with your answer he mumbles a “so good for me” as he pulls away he gives you another light slap to your ass - signaling for you to scoot up, your mattress dipping behind you when he gets on his knees.

Big hands spread you apart, your forehead hits the comforter when you feel the heat of his breath against your slick folds. Your walls flutter, begging for his attention when his tongue runs a long stripe up your slit. He hums at the taste before he does it again, this time making sure to circle your clit before lapping up everything you were drenching him with like he was thirsty for it.

“Oh my god,” you huff into your blankets, toes curling when he starts an assault against your bundle of nerves, the pointed tip of his nose pressing deeper into your entrance as he gets lost in the sounds he’s pulling from you.

His fingers stretch across the tiger stripes on your butt cheeks, pulling you even further apart to give him better access. The coil inside you already threatening to snap when he sucks hard on your clit. He lets it go with a loud pop, smirking to himself at the way he has your body shaking from overstimulation already.

“Taste so fuckin’ good. Strawberries, just like your lips.” He groans, inhaling your scent like a man starved, his good hand coming down on your cheek again only this time a little harder pulling out another broken moan from you.

“Can I taste all of you pretty girl?”

There’s zero hesitation when you say ‘yes’, in fact it’s a little desperate. He could have whatever he wanted from you now. Not even sure what he means, your brain’s too fuzzy with lust to comprehend anything until you feel the tip of his tongue circle a place you’d never let anyone else go before.

“Holy shit - Steve.” The new sensation sends another wave arousal to your dripping core, a needy whine following it when he does it again.

“This okay?” He kisses the curve underneath the apple of your cheek, the softness of his voice comforting you while he checks in.

“God, it’s, it’s -“ He gives you another kitten lick and it makes your eyes roll in the back of your head, “It’s more than okay - Jesus Christ.”

Too lost in the feeling of him testing the tightness of you with his tongue, you aren’t expecting his thick finger to start circling the entrance he’d been neglecting, the one you need him to fill the most. Your silk walls welcome the intrusion with ease, the stretch only stinging a little when he pushes to the last knuckle while his tongue starts getting a little more bold. Your back arches when he groans against you, curling his finger to hit the spot only you’d ever been able to find with ease. He adds a second digit when you start bucking against his face, the new addition almost makes you run away. He tsks at you from buried between your butt cheeks, one large hand locking you in place when he starts feeling you get close.

“Give it to me,” he demands, coming up for air. Fingertips relentless against the spot that has you squelching loudly.

His mouth returns to the sensitive part of you, tongue circling your tightness in a way that has you finally snapping. Your walls constrict, wrapping around his fingers while your vision goes white. Your body freezes, the orgasm overwhelming your muscles with a violent shake, his name falling from your lips like it’s the only word you know. You feel him grin against you, the movements of his fingers only slowing down but never stopping, milking every last drop you give him.

“So good, so pretty when you cum baby,” he mumbles praises, his lips kissing anywhere they can reach while your body comes down from its first high.

You feel his weight leave the mattress, hear the metal of his belt buckle clinking followed by the low thump of his jeans hitting the floor. You find enough strength to look over your shoulder and it’s enough to make you whimper. Steve’s big. Dark hair at the base, it’s thick and curved, the pretty pink tip leaking just for you. The long vein that runs up the side pulses when he gives it a couple of tugs before his knees hit the mattress again.

His hands spread over your hips pulling you closer before he starts trailing kisses up your back, the silver of his chain making you shiver as it runs up your spine till his lips stop right at your ear.

“You ready for me?”

Your eyes meet his and they’re pitch black, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you know yours looks the same when you give him a nod but you know that’s not going to be enough for him.

“Come on, you know what I need,” his tone is mocking as he grabs his cock at the base, swiping his head through your folds, smirking at the way you try to suck him in, your body greedy for him.

“Please, please, please, please.”

All your self respect goes out the window when he pushes the tip in and you can’t stop repeating yourself. The stretch is already bigger than his two fingers and he wasn’t even half way in yet and for a brief moment you wonder if he’ll even fit.

“Fuck - baby.”

He moans as he pushes further, sheathing himself half way and he feels the way it makes your legs shake. His hand sneaks around your waist to find your clit, slippery fingers rubbing circles to get you to open up more as he rolls his hips one more time bottoming out. He groans so loud you’re sure anyone who might be smoking outside of the bar can hear him.

“Holy shiiiit, I’ve never had pussy like this.” He stills, adjusting to how tight you feel, and it’s his turn to babble as you constrict around him making him twitch - dangerously close to cumming already.

“You feel so good Stevie,” you whine as you push back against him, taking his length even deeper, feeling every curve and ridge of him against your walls.

He pulls out half way before slamming back in and it makes him curse under his breath before he does it again, only harder.

“God, fuck- this is all mine now, yeah?” he mutters, an angry edge to his words when he thinks about Devin getting to do this.

“Mmhmm,” your answer is automatic, no thoughts behind your eyes while his cock fills you in the way you fantasize about when you touch yourself.

“That’s right baby, it’s mine. You’re mine.”

His thrusts get aggressive as he gets closer to his release, your slick making it easy for him to slide almost completely out before pushing back in. The rough hair covering his pelvis rubbing your clit at the same time his tip reaches the same spot his fingers pulled your first orgasm from.

“Shit, Steve, right there.” Your jaw goes slack, eyes closing tight when he hits it again, your words spurring him on while he tries to re-grip his hold on your sweat-kissed skin.

“Yeah? you want more?” He makes sure to put all his attention where you want, slowing his hips just enough to hit it even harder. “I’ll give you more.”

Steve tilts his head to the side watching how you wrap around him, and the way he barely has to push back in, your greedy walls doing almost all the work when he finds the perfect pace that has you twisting the sheets.

He huffs out a cocky laugh and it makes you tighten in response, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.”Yeah, I know baby. I know. You gonna cum again for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to get out with a nod but it’s not enough for him, he needs you loud enough for Devin to hear from across town.

The sound of skin slapping against skin drowns out the music, keeping his stamina up despite the twitch of his cock, he bends over, somehow getting deeper, the cool metal of his chain dragging across your back while one hand snakes under your waist. His fingers are unrelenting when they find their way to your puffy clit again, applying just enough pressure to get your legs to shake for him.

“I’m gonna ask again, are you gonna cum for me?” He keeps his voice even, but he knows he’s not gonna last much longer, especially not when your cheek hits the mattress and you meet his eyes looking like that.

“Yeah, god, yeah Steveee! Please, please, please.” You don’t even know what you’re begging for but it makes Steve’s resolve break.

The moan he lets out is loud enough to echo off your wall, warmth flooding your insides as he cums hard enough to collapse against your back. It’s enough to send you over the edge for the second time. Your walls fluttering enough to make his nails dig crescent moons into your hips with a low “fuck” escaping him as you milk him for more with the sweetest chant of his name he’s ever heard.

“That’s it baby.” He coos lips placing sloppy kisses along the your shoulder blades when you collapse against the mattress, your bodies tangled in a way you don’t have the energy to leave quite yet.

The radio cuts out leaving just the sound of the two of you trying to catch your breath, you can faintly hear ‘Pony’ playing from the bar below but the sound of a car driving past quickly snuffs it out. You feel his nose nudge against your ear, a slow lazy smile creeping across your face when his lips brush your temple.

“I don’t think you have a concussion, but you better stay the night just in case.”

His laugh vibrates against your back, a toothy grin pressed to your skin.

“It’s always better to be safe than sorry,” he agrees. The response you somehow managed to conjure up gets lost on your tongue when both your long forgotten Tamagotchi’s go off in his abandoned pants in a matching tune you’d never heard before.

“Our babies need daddy, honey,” he groans, slowly lifting himself up on his elbows.

You roll your eyes with a snort as he trails kisses down your back only wincing slightly when he pulls himself out. Folding your arms under your head, you still can’t bring yourself to move, but the view of him naked and still semi hard while he holds the two digital pets in his hand with a confused expression isn’t one you really can turn away from.

“What?” Your curiosity is piqued when his eyes grow big.

“No fuckin’ way,” he mumbles more to himself than you, “I didn’t even know they could do this.”

“What??” The irritation is clear in your voice, the feeling of being left out turning you into a brat.

“Umm, I think they had babies… yep. Marty definitely got her pregnant.” The smile on his face gives away just how excited he actually is and you hate to admit that it’s contagious.

“Well we’re gonna have to figure out a child support plan I’m afraid. Daisy’s a free woman Steve.” The serious delivery makes him do a double take before he narrows his eyes.

“Child support? No, we're raising these kids together. So I’m gonna need you to care a little bit about keeping her alive. It's not just you here honey.” He tosses you the toy before jumping back on the bed pulling your body into his chest with ease, “I’m afraid you’re never getting rid of me.”

---

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #eddie munson

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canirove · 8 months ago

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Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 1

Summary: Liv and Declan, Declan and Liv, or the story about how a born and raised Tottenham girl falls in love with an Arsenal player... and its consequences.

Author’s note: Best way to celebrate my birthday? By sharing a new story about my beloved 🥳🫶🏻 I started writing this story back in October after making this gif (that's how Declan looks on this first chapter), and I got so inspired that I even managed to write like a script with everything I wanted to happen from beginning to end, which doesn't happen very often or never tbh 😅 I hope you like it as much as I do, and as always, thank you for reading! 💜

Next chapter

Masterlist

"And don't forget about the national team staying with us next week. We need to be at our best, the club wants them to keep coming here and not go back to Carrington or any other training centre" our boss says.

"We always are at our best."

"I know, Alex. But you know what I mean.”

"Yeah, we have to kiss their asses" he mutters.

"Shh" I tell him, hoping our boss hasn't heard him.

"You know it's true" he whispers. "Since we don't have enough with our princesses, now we'll have new ones. And I'm sure they are even more annoying."

"If you dislike football and this job so much, why don't you quit?"

"I don't dislike football, Liv. I dislike football players, it isn't the same” Alex says. “And I don't quit because Tottenham is the team me and my dad support, they happen to pay really well, and I need the money. Besides, what will your dad say? He helped me get this job, I can't disappoint him."

"He'll survive" I chuckle.

"I don't think so. If I'm not here, who will make sure his daughter doesn't end up sleeping with a football player? Especially now that we are gonna have some Arsenal ones in the building. They are the enemy."

"That is so stupid."

"The rivalry between Tottenham and Arsenal isn't stupid, Liv. Please show some respect."

"Whatever" I reply, trying to focus again on what our boss is explaining.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Ready to meet our new princesses?" I ask Alex.

"No."

"Well, too late. They are here" I say when the doors of the cafeteria open and the players from England's national team start walking in, Harry Kane leading them.

"Urgh, not him" Alex groans.

"Shut up and get to work. And don't forget to smile."

"I don't want to smile at him. Or at any of them."

"Hello, guys. Nice to see you again."

"Harry, hi!" I say. "How are the Germans treating you?"

"Good, all good. How are you around here?"

"All good too" I smile. "Same as always?"

"Same as always, Liv."

After Harry some other players like Rashford, Stones or Bellingham also come get their orders, and then…

"Hi, what can I get… you" I say, getting lost in the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen.

"A latte, please" he smiles.

"A… a la… a…" I mumble.

"Liv… Liv… Olivia!" Alex says, hitting my arm.

"Ouch! What?"

"His order" he says, nodding towards the blue eyed God in front of me. "Didn't you hear him?"

"I… Yes. A latte."

"That's it" he smiles again, the most stupid giggle ever leaving my mouth. What an amazing first impression, Olivia.

"I… Umm…" I mumble again.

"Liv, hey! Long time no see!"

"Madders, we saw each other three days ago" I say, my brain remembering how to work after hearing his voice.

"It feels like an eternity" he smiles. "Have you met Dec yet?"

"Uh?"

"Mr. Declan Rice. The most expensive English football transfer in history" he laughs, wrapping his arm around the blue eyed God's neck and messing up his hair, somehow making it look even better than it already did.

"You… what?"

"You hadn't recognized him?" Madders says. "I know he's had a big glow up, but he hasn't changed that much since the Euros."

"Yeah… I…" I say, feeling my cheeks on fire and the stupidest person in the world. How did I not recognize one of England's best players?

"Anyway, can I get the same as always?"

"He asked first."

"But he plays for Arsenal and I am a Tottenham boy, Liv. What will your dad say?" Madders smirks.

"Her dad?" Declan asks with a confused look.

"He's been working for Tottenham since before we all were born and hates anything Arsenal" Madders explains. "So if he finds out that you are favouring him over me…"

"You are so annoying, James" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Yet you love me" he smiles. "So, can I get my usual?"

"No" I say, turning around and getting Declan's order ready.

"You are so rude, Olivia…"

"Yet you love me" I reply, making Declan laugh. "Your latte."

"Thank you, Liv" he smiles as he takes his cup, our fingers barely touching but being enough to make my face burn once again.

"You're welcome" I giggle. You are so lame, Olivia. Dear God.

"Can I get my coffee now or are you gonna keep smiling at each other like two teenagers in love?" Madders asks.

"What?" Declan and I say at the same time.

"Flirting with an Arsenal player, Liv… What will your dad say?"

"Shup up, James" I say, turning towards the coffee machine to hide that my face now must be the same colour as Declan’s Arsenal shirt.

"You are an idiot, bro" I hear him say before walking away.

"What? Why? What did I say? Liv, hey. What did I say?"

"Just go drink your coffee, James" I sigh.

"But…"

"Go."

"You two are so weird… Made for each other" he winks, making me roll my eyes again.

Once I'm done with all the orders, I can't help but check around the cafeteria looking for Declan. During the Euros he had already caught my eye, but he didn't look as hot as he did right now. He was definitely aging like fine wine.

When I finally spot him, he's sitting next to other Arsenal players, a soft smile on his lips while sipping his coffee. And then… Then he turns to look at where I am. At me. And his smile grows wider, making my knees feel like jelly.

"Best coffee ever" he mouths, remarking each word.

"Thank you" I reply, definitely smiling like an idiot.

"Olivia, Olivia, Olivia…"

"Holy shit, Alex" I jump when I hear him next to me.

"Flirting with an Arsenal player at work? And him among them all? Your dad is gonna be so disappointed…"

"Shut up, Alex" I say, giving him a push that doesn't move him from where he is standing. "I'm gonna go check that we aren't running out of anything, you know how picky the boss is with that."

"Yeah, run away."

"Fuck you" I reply, showing him my middle finger and hoping no one from the national team has seen it. The least thing I need right now is someone complaining to our boss because of my bad behaviour.

As I leave, I can't help but look at Declan one last time, and to my surprise, he also is looking at me. And when our eyes meet…

"Holy shit" I whisper. Can you get turned on by a wink? Because I'm pretty sure that just happened.

#declan rice #declan rice fanfic #declan rice imagine #declan rice x reader #football fanfic #football imagine

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stark-ironman · 8 months ago

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Firefighter AU, Part 2

Warnings: Semi-public sex (in an ambulance), making out in an office, smut, sort of name calling, hair-pulling, praise kink

A/N: Tony is a Firefighter Captain, Reader is an EMT Captain. All Marvel characters are also part of this universe. Also Tony and Reader are more of friends with benefits but with a bit more romantic feelings than normal.

Hello to all my new followers! I wasn't expecting the reaction I received yesterday on part 1 so I'm so excited to get started on this journey. Honestly, I love this series and if anyone has any ideas for future installments then just let me know! Thank you to everyone! Also photo creds go to @tonysfarts

"What's a pretty thing like yourself doing in this office all alone?" Tony asks from the doorway. You turn your chair and look at him, noticing that he's gripping the top of the door with both hands and leaning inside the door. "I had some paperwork to fill out from that last call we went on to explain why we had to do a field tracheotomy on our patient. The usual fun stuff." You say filing the paperwork away. He moves from the doorway and walks over behind your chair, placing his hands on your shoulders and massages gently.

You moan softly as he moves his hands and notice how he pays special attention to your shoulders. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, with the occasional moan falling from your lips. Tony leans down and kisses your forehead so you lay your head back to steal a kiss. He chuckles against your lips and kisses you again.

"If anybody walks in, they're going to have a field day with this one." You laugh. "Well then let's give them a show, honey." He stands you up, pushing your chair to the side and kisses you deeply. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he lifts you up and sits you on the desk as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open slightly, letting him attack your mouth. You grind your hips against his, feeling his erection as he moans in your mouth.

"You're such a dirty girl, honey. Getting me all hard knowing anybody could walk in right now." His kisses trail down your jaw and neck. "I should punish you for being such a naughty girl." He nips your skin just above your t-shirt. A moan escapes your lips as you pull him closer. "Does my dirty little slut want that? To be punished for being so naughty and impatient?" He asks. "Fuck, yes sir. I want you to punish me." You moan as you pull on his hair.

Tony comes back up and kisses you again, unbuckling your pants to pull your shirt out but a loud ring fills the fire station. "Shit!" You both exclaim, standing up and fixing your clothes as fast as you can. "Catch you later?" Tony asks mid way down the stairs. "You know it, baby." You smile running over to the ambulance and getting in while he gets in the firetruck.

------

"Rhodey, Romanoff, take a well deserved break. I'll finish up here." You tell them as they finish organizing everything in the back of the ambulance. "Alright, captain. Thank you." Rhodey says as they walk upstairs. You start spraying everything down, smirking when you feel someone's presence. "You know it's rude to stare at people, right?" You ask. "I'm sorry, can't help but admire you sometimes." Tony flirts as he steps inside the ambulance. He takes the spray from your hands and sets it aside. "Remember that idea you had a while back? That involved us and this ambulance?" Tony asks as he pushes your hair out of the way, leaning down to kiss your neck.

"You really are trying to get us caught by everyone." You chuckle. "Everybody here knows we're messing around, darling. Luckily they like us so they won't expose us to the higher ups." He mumbles as he trails kisses up to your ear. A moan escapes your lips and you feel his hand sliding up your thigh. "At least shut the-" He shuts the doors quietly before you can finish your sentence. "Where do you keep the extra sheets at?" He asks looking around. You reach across and grab one, handing it to him.

Tony spreads out the sheet on the floor, crawling over to you and helps takes your boots off. "Come here, honey." He says helping you to the floor. "I guess it's a good thing I took the stretcher out of here, huh." You chuckle. He laughs and kisses you deeply, unbuckling your pants and slowly pulls your pants off. Biting his lip, he leans down and trails kisses up your leg before taking your underwear off. "Look at you all ready for me, darling." He moans as he slides his tongue up your slit. "Taste so sweet for me.." You moan as he starts to praise you and you tug on his hair.

"What do you want, hon? Hm?" He looks up at you with those sinful, lust filled doe eyes. "I want you, baby." You moan. "Yeah? How do you want me?" His tongue slides across your clit. "Your tongue. Please." You whimper. He smirks and lowers his head, using his tongue to tease your clit while he slips a finger inside of you. "Fuck.. Tony." You moan as he slides another finger in and starts moving them. He sucks and licks on you, using his other arm to move up your body and squeeze your breast softly.

You moan, knowing you won't last much longer especially after what happened earlier in the day, and you start moving with his fingers trying to chase your orgasm but he pulls them out and sits up. "What the fuck, Tony!" You exclaim sitting up. "What? You think I forgot about earlier when I told you that you needed to be punished for being naughty?" He says innocently. You look at him, shocked but knowing why he did it.

Tony leans down and kisses you again, laying you back down. "You'll be able to cum soon, I promise," He unbuckles his pants and pushes them down to free his cock, "I always take care of my baby." His hand moves down and grips his base as he teases your entrance with his head before sliding in. "Shit, Tones." You moan as he bottoms out. He starts moving at a medium pace, placing his hands behind your knees and pushes them down so your knees¹ are by your ears.

"Such a pretty little slut for me. Letting me do whatever I want to you." Tony moans as he leans down to kiss you. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, holding him close as he pounds into you. You hiss as you feel your orgasm getting close again. "Can I cum, please?" You beg. "Yeah, cum on my dick, darling." He moans as he feels your walls clenching around him.

You pull his hair as you cum, feeling his movements stutter as he releases inside of you. "Shit, I wasn't expecting to cum yet." He says pulling out of you. "I have that effect on you." You smirk as you sit up, hearing his chuckle while you grab some wipes. He cleans the both of you off and kisses you deeply before helping you get dressed. You fix your hair and start cleaning up, throwing the sheet by the door as he opens it.

"See you later, okay?" He kisses you softly. "I'll be here." You chuckle as he walks off. "Hey, Y/N." He calls from the steps, making you turn towards him. "Do you want to go out on a date tomorrow? I know this great restaurant a few towns over if you're interested." Tony asks, shyly. "Yeah, I would like that." You smile as he smiles. "It's about time you two asked each other out. Maybe then you can stop having sex in our ambulance." Natasha calls and you cover your face in embarrassment. "Or make us want to do it more." Tony says laughing as he heads to his office.

#tony stark #tony stark fluff #tony stark imagine #tony stark smut #tony stark x fem!reader

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604to647 · 1 year ago

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Safest with You (Ch. 12 - The Workout)

7.2K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din “work out” at Mando’s gym and you end up getting sick.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), reader ogles Din like a piece🥩, smut, unprotected PiV sex, semi-public sex (car), new-ish established relationship, dirty talk, light degradation, light daddy kink, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, bunny, etc.), description of flu symptoms (it's gross y'all), reader is described as shorter than Din and he strokes her hair while she's sick.

A/N: Oo! This is a long one; it's just because The Workout and The Cold used to be two chapters and I ended up shmushing them together. There was an ask about Din taking care of reader while she's vulnerable; I hope this chapter fulfills that ask! 🥰 Thank you as always for reading!

Series Masterlist

“You know, you can come work out at Mando’s, if you want.”

“Really? That won’t be weird? Like, I’m moving in on your space?”

“I like you in my space.”

Din says it like a simple statement of fact, not even looking up from the cutting board where he’s slicing the steak he grilled for dinner. You’re not big on working out, but once in a while you just like to go for a run or a row and zone out to some TV; it’s not a regular thing so you don’t have a membership anywhere, and your building has a gym on the third floor that you can use whenever the urge strikes you (not often). But this morning when you went downstairs, ready to put in the hour you needed to catch-up on your favourite trashy reality show, you had found a temporary closure notice on the gym entrance.

It's not a bad idea. The weather is getting a bit chillier so your walks with Al haven’t been as long as both of you would like; it might be nice to have another option to get a little bit of exercise, “It’s okay if I just use the cardio machines? I won’t use any of the weight lifting equipment or anything.”

“You can use whatever you like. I’ll even have Jimmy fetch you water and towels.”

“Noooooo,” you make a face and shake your head.

“Yessssss,” he mimics you, “You’re the boss’ girl, you should be treated special.”

“You treat me special enough, for you and Jimmy both, thanks,” you say, still scrunching up your nose, but you tell Din you’ll take him up on his kind offer.

---

The next weekend, you leave Al snoozing on the Din’s bed and head down to the gym with the intention of saying hi to Din while he works, but also to run off some of the stress from the work week. Like the gym in your building, there are enough empty machines so you have your pick, but unlike your gym, the patrons all seem to know one another and are treating their workouts like a social event. Din’s helping out with the training today; you give him a little wave when you walk by the ring so not to distract him, and pick a treadmill off to the side so you can still see him and also simultaneously do some innocent people watching while you run. Headphones on, your phone jacked in to the console so you can stream your show, you pick the program you want the machine to run and start your work out.

Your plan is almost immediately derailed. As the familiar title sequence of your show starts to play, your eyes drift up past the screen and lock onto Din’s figure in the ring. He’s sparring with Chris today; having already gone a few rounds while you were upstairs, both men are sweaty and breathing heavily, chests and shoulders heaving as they circle each other. Din has sweated through his t-shirt so that it’s now sticking against his body, making him look even more immense than usual, and you openly gawk at the strong lines of his back and arms visible through the darkened fabric. As if he’s somehow reading your mind, Din puts a pause on the bout in order to remove his wet shirt; it’s not an easy task given his gloves, but he manages it with some grace and the use of his teeth to pull and hold the collar. When he finally whips the shirt over his damp curls, you’re treated to the sight of his thick, hard chest, glistening and flexing as he stretches out his arms; you feel a heat pooling below your abdomen and a flush spread across your chest that has nothing to do with your lackluster exercise efforts.

Far from doing any people watching like you had planned, you’re now struggling to make sure that you yourself don’t become a spectacle by openly drooling while you watch a shirtless Din fight in the ring. Every one of his punches is quick and agile, arms extending perfectly to show off his control and precision; his muscles prominent and flexed, the veins on his forearms protruding as his gloved fists clench, ready for impact. He’s a mammoth force, a powerhouse, somehow both immovable and unstoppable, and he looks good enough to eat.

You haven’t watched single a minute of your show and it’s actually getting to the point where the voices coming through your headphones are an unwelcomed distraction from the actual show you’re engrossed in, so you take off your headphones and place them next to your water bottle. Big mistake. Now, you can very clearly hear Din’s groans and pants as he ducks and punches. It’s like the thirst trap video you’ve been watching all of a sudden turned up its pornographic soundtrack. Din’s low, throaty grunts as he exerts himself, coupled with the words of praise you hear him shout out in his deep, encouraging baritone, have your mind running wild.

When Chris lands a hard punch to Din’s shoulder and you hear him grunt out, “Fuck!”, you nearly trip over your own feet.

You’re pounding back your water, throat parched and sweating profusely, and you’re barely 20 minutes into the preselected program; you’re not even going to lie to yourself, the flush of your skin and your shortness of breath have absolutely nothing to do with this treadmill. You’re about to admit defeat and cut the run short, thinking you could definitely benefit from a cold shower, when you see Chris and Din touch gloves, seemingly done training for the moment. Din ducks under the ropes and starts taking off his gloves; as he walks past you, he throws a towel around his neck and you a quick wink. Where is he going? You watch as he heads to the front of the gym, disappearing around the partition wall that rests between the front door and the main gym.

Without even thinking, you stop your machine, grab your things, and try to quickly and discretely follow. You find Din outside, having put on a dry shirt, standing behind his truck with the trunk door opened above him as he rifles through the box full of equipment he keeps in the trunk. Wordlessly, you put your things down on the trunk bed next to the box, surprising Din at your sudden appearance, “Hey pretty bird, what are you doing here? It’s cold, you sh-“. Taking his hand, you lead him to step back before pressing the auto-close button on the trunk door; as it folds down; you open the door to the back seat of the truck, and gently push Din to get in, with you following directly.

Din chuckles as you situate yourself on his lap, straddling his thighs, looking at him with a hunger in your eyes, “Baby, what’s all th-?”. He’s cut short when you silence him by throwing your arms around his neck and attach your lips to his, hard and hurried. You’re embarrassingly pent up from the last 20 minutes of watching the hottest man you’ve ever known show off his power and skill on what was basically a stage you had a front row seat to, and now you need to feel the strength of those muscles on you, under you, fucking up into you.

“Want you,” you mumble against his lips, “…so turned on. Watching you.” You’re barely able to string together your thoughts, you’re so consumed with exploring the cavern of Din’s mouth with your tongue, but Din gets the idea. Feeling incredibly needy, you start lightly grinding down on Din’s lap, and he encourages you by placing his hands on your waist and helping guide your movements; even this light friction feels overwhelmingly good against your aching clit, and you throw you head back and cry out, unabashed and loud enough for anyone walking by Din’s car to hear.

“Fuck, daddy, need you. Please, please…” your mouth back to messy kissing Din’s as your hands thread through his damp hair, tugging at the curls at the base of his neck and earning you a deep growl from the back of his throat.

“Look at my desperate, pretty girl,” groans Din, eyes greedy as you take off your t-shirt, then your sports bra, letting your tits bounce in his face, “…can’t even go a whole work out without riding her daddy’s dick.”

Unable to wait another minute, you peel your wet shorts and panties off in one go, now completely naked, sweaty and panting on top of a still fully clothed Din. “Not my fault, daddy,” you pout as you press yourself down on Din’s clothed cock, making a wet mess of his gym shorts. “You looked so fucking good in that ring, then you were making all those grunting noises. Couldn’t think of anything else but you filling me with your cock. Ahh-,“ you gasp out loud as Din takes one of your nipples in his mouth, nibbling and rolling the sensitive bud between his teeth before sucking down and flicking it with his tongue. You whine and increase the intensity and tempo of your movements while he moves to do the same to your other nipple, hand palming and tweaking the now abandoned breast. Din’s free hand snakes its way down to your core only to find you slick with want, a sticky mess already coating your inner thighs and soaking through his shorts, “Messy, messy slut. You get this wet just from watching me spar? Good thing you followed me out here, can’t have you leaking all over the gym floor like this.” He brings up his fingers so you can both see how your wetness coats his fingers, even though he has yet to insert them into you. When he pulls them apart, you watch the fluid web that connects his fingers stretch, proof that your pussy is positively leaking; you whimper at the filthy sight and bring Din’s hand to your mouth, popping his fingers into your mouth so you can suck off your own arousal. Moaning at the taste of your own indecency, you grind down hard against Din’s groin, his hard-on straining painfully against his shorts.

“Fuck me,” you mumble, Din’s fingers still in your mouth.

“Let me make you come first, pretty bird,” Din pleads, always putting your pleasure first and wanting to lesson the sting of the first stretch of his cock within your tight walls.

“Can’t wait, daddy… please, I can take it, please.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” grits Din, as he pushes his shorts and boxers down; his leaking cock springing out and slapping against your stomach, coarse hair at the base tickling your clit and making you gasp in pleasure, “YES! Please, daddy, need to bounce for you.”

You’ve never taken him without having come first, and if you weren’t so far gone, answering only to your lust, you would probably be worried; but as you line yourself up with Din, the shudder you get just from swiping his swollen head through you folds and tapping it on your clit makes it impossible to care about anything other than having him inside you right now.

Slowly, slowly you sink down on Din’s length, taking him a little at a time. Din grips your waist tightly, eyes closed, forcing himself to breathe; you’re so incredibly tight this, warm cunt practically strangling him, he fights the urge to move and bury himself in you fully. The stretch of Din’s fat cock is almost too much, your soft walls molding so tightly to him you can feel every ridge and vein as you slowly spear yourself downwards. The pain doesn’t register so much as the overwhelming feeling of fullness, your body needing more time and space to accommodate Din’s thickness. When he finally bottoms out, you just sit and sigh, sated from just warming his throbbing cock in your tight heat.

Your lust driven frenzy quelled, you now rest serene in Din’s arms, drinking in his gentle kisses, soothing touches, and words of praise of how good you’re doing for him; Din worshipping you as you take his cock so perfectly, and you getting used to his size and relearning how to breathe. Finally, finally, you look up at Din’s face to see his eyes filled with adoration, and your breathing evens, allowing you to kiss him with renewed passion. Grinning against your lips, Din murmurs, “Thought you wanted to bounce, bunny?”

Pulling away slightly and grinning back, you nod and lift yourself up a little, then slowly push yourself down back down fully onto Din’s length again, eliciting a heady groan from you both. You repeat the action, again and again, each time increasing the amount of Din’s length you work in and out of your pussy, until you’re panting and bouncing up and down on the full length of Din’s dick, “Feel so good, daddy. So full.”

“So fucking pretty, bouncing on me like a whore, bunny,” groans Din, as he mouths at your tits. You love his new pet name for you, the endearment spurring you to bounce harder and chase the high that’s been building since you saw him land a thundering cross punch to Chris’ jaw in the ring.

“Love being your slutty bunny, daddy,” you cry, head thrown back in ecstasy, “wanna ride this cock until it’s all creamy. Until it fills me up, ngh..ahhh-“

Din thinks he’s going to explode from your filthy words, then he knows he’s going to explode when he looks down at where the two of you are connected and sees a ring of white around the base of his cock, “Holy shit, baby. Look at you already creaming around me. My perfect bunny. Doing so good riding this dick, taking me so well. So fucking perfect.”

He presses one of his hands against your stomach, balls tightening when he swears he can feel some movement against his palm from the inside, and uses his thumb to draw his name on your swollen clit.

It’s too much, too much. The stretch and burning sting of having taken Din’s cock without much prep, his filthy words of praise, the lewdness of fucking in his car in broad daylight parked out in the open in front of his place of business, the tenderness of your new pet name, the delicious pressure on your clit – you come. You come with a soundless scream, the stuttering of Din’s name punctuated by sharp gasps of air, you body shudders and shivers as you clench down hard on Din’s cock. Hand threading, then fisting the hair at the base of your neck, Din fucks up into you as he praises you through your high.

“So fucking gorgeous when you come for me, pretty bird.”

“My little bunny did such a good job on daddy’s dick.”

“You feel so good, baby. Made for me.”

You’re still so full, but now also so pliant and eager to please; with what remaining energy you have, you bounce down hard, meeting every one of Din’s upward thrusts so he bottoms out in you each time, the force of each drive has your ass jiggling as it slaps down on his thighs. Din grunts and pants as he chases his own finish; you hug yourself around his neck, and babble, “Thank you for making your bunny come, daddy. Felt so good to gush all over your dick. Want to do the same for you, Din. Please, please, fill me up. Need your cum, please.” Never one to deny you anything, Din comes with a roar, filling your pussy with rope after rope of his milky cum so you grow even fuller and continue to hum, “Thank you, thank you, daddy.”

Your post “workout” cooldown comprises of gentle strokes to the back, soft cradling of heads, and quiet words of devotion; tired and satisfied in Din’s embrace, you start to shiver, and this time not from pleasure. Coming out into the cold air while sweating from a run, then getting naked in a colder car was probably not the smartest idea, but you hadn’t been really thinking about the well-being of your health at the time. Din rubs his big hands over your arms to warm you up, “Pretty bird, let’s get you dressed.” You find your gym clothes but the idea of putting on damp clothes is wholly unappealing, so Din reaches his long arms into the trunk and roots around for some spare clothes. Stepping out of the truck in an oversized yellow Lakers t-shirt and Din’s sweatpants that you’ve rolled up multiple times, you realize it couldn’t be any more obvious what the two of you have been up to.

Getting your things from the trunk, you decide to go through the side entrance straight up to Din’s apartment to avoid any walk of shame embarrassment in the gym. Giving him a parting kiss at the front door, you whisper, “Hope it’s okay we did that, Din. Don’t want anyone to file a complaint against Mando’s.” You look so cute, worried about the reputation of his business, Din can’t help but yank you against him via the waistband of his pants and give you a deep reassuring kiss, “Perk of being a Mando, pretty bird – no one can say shit to you,” before sending you upstairs with a spank.

---

You start to feel a tickle in your throat when you go to sleep on Sunday, and by the time you wake up for work on Monday, it’s a full-blown sore throat. You trudge through a morning of meetings, trying to avoid the pounding of your head and attempt to soothe your throat with lozenges when your team gathers at the door to your office and point a makeshift cross made out of pens and rubber bands at you, telling you to go home.

You gather your computer and some files and tell them you’ll work from home until you’re better, but they insist you rest; you compromise and say you’ll be available by email before heading home.

Din is doing double duty again his week; although you haven’t voiced your concerns, you've noticed that Din’s been a little restless as of late, him and Paz meeting more frequently over an increasing number of border skirmishes and disputes that need to be handled. You’re not sure if it’s anything serious, but you do know that the need to step up security has been weighing on Din – he himself stepping in and putting in more face time than he has since his retirement. You call Din to let him know that you seem to have caught a cold, and you think it’s better if he doesn’t come over, in case he catches it too. With him working long hours, you don’t want anything to risk him getting even less rest than he already is. As expected, he protests, but you insist even though you will miss him.

The next morning you wake up feeling like hot garbage. You slog through about two hours of work before making the executive decision to put your out-of-office on and reschedule you remaining meetings. Your team tells you they don’t want to hear from you until next week but know you’re likely too stubborn to agree to that. You take a bunch of drugs and wonder how you got sick. You’re usually pretty healthy and while the weather is getting chillier, you’re not out much without being bundled up?

Oh.

Your drowsy brain flashes a vignette of sweaty bodies in the backseat of a car, windows fogging as the heat from illicit activities condense against windows cooled by the lower outside temperatures. Of Din’s face buried into your neck, holding you close as you both calm down, your naked body cooling and shivering after your explosive highs. So, this man really will be the death of me, you think, as you pass out.

You wake up groggy and with your throat on fire later in the afternoon. Popping some more drugs, you reply to some work emails and the messages from your friends and Din checking in. You know he’s doing another late night with the Mandos, so you downplay your symptoms a bit so he will acquiesce to your suggestion that he go straight home to rest again. It’s easier to do over text; a phone call would have given away your loss of voice and sent him racing over. With your friends, you can be more candid, I’m dying you tell them – they all immediately volunteer to come over but you tell them to stay away for their own sakes. Going to bed early after taking Al out, you debate dinner but ultimately go without because you can’t handle swallowing any food.

Wednesday is… a blur. You don’t even turn on your computer today or look at your phone. You drag yourself out of bed, take Al out, feed Al, then curl up on the couch shivering. Shit. This is the flu. Your muscles ache, your head is splitting open, and you can add a stuffed-up nose to your growing list of symptoms. Using the energy you have left to grab more blankets, take some drugs and pull down the blinds, you’re guessing the fever is next. That or death.

It's dark when you finally wake up to your phone buzzing on the coffee table; you groggily look at the time, shoot, it’s 7 pm already? You don’t feel well rested at all. You need to take Al out. Ignoring the call and what you think are a bunch of missed notifications on your phone, you thrown on a jacket over your sweats and apologize profusely to Al while waiting for the elevator. Once outside, you have to admit that the crisp cool air feels amazing against your hot skin, and you’re debating if you should risk taking Al for a short walk when your phone rings again. You pick up when you see it’s Din, “Hubo?” you croak out, barely audible.

“Pretty bird… you sound terrible,” Din’s been worried about you all day. He hasn’t liked the idea of you being alone and sick, but you were pretty insistent that it wasn’t anything to worry about while encouraging him to stay at his place. He’s been feeling a bit off kilter being apart from you; even though he’s exhausted from pulling double duty with the Mandos, he misses at least seeing you and Al for your nightly walk. Now he’s even more thrown when he realizes you’ve been downplaying the severity of your illness for whatever reason.

“Thanks,” you joke, but it doesn’t come out sounding jovial; in fact, it’s barely the sound of a scratch.

“Baby, I’m going to come over and-” Din starts to say when you interrupt, “No, no, you’ll get s-” before you’re stopped mid-sentence by a coughing fit.

Din’s already gathered his things and is getting in his truck by the time you’ve finished coughing, “I’m fin-” you’re saying when you’re cut out by the sound of a siren going by.

Din says your name. He hardly ever says your name; it’s always pretty bird, or baby, or sweetheart, or some other endearment. And he never says it in this low, warning tone, like he’s afraid of what he might say if he doesn’t say your name instead. He repeats it, then, “Who is walking Al while you’re sick?”

Why do you feel like you’re in trouble whether you answer or not? Your body clearly doesn’t want to get in trouble either because it figures the best thing to do is launch another coughing fit.

Din softens a little, “Pretty bird, get inside and get in bed, I’ll be over soon,” and he hangs up before you can attempt to argue.

When you and Al come in a few minutes later, you feed him and give him some fresh water, all while giving him as many fussings as you can muster as a continued apology for having ignored him all day. You trudge over to the kitchen thinking you should eat something, clearly the lack of food has not been aiding your recovery, but as you peer in your fridge, the idea of having to prepare anything overwhelms you. You pour yourself some orange juice and use it to wash down some more flu medication and then look through you phone at the messages you’ve missed while sleeping. You’re mid-scroll when there’s a knock on your door; after opening the door, you quickly step back to let Din in and cover your mouth with your hand so you don’t breathe your germs all over him.

“None of that now, pretty bird,” Din says firmly, reaching for you and pulling you in close with one arm before planting a kiss on the top of your hot head.

“You’ll get sick,” you murmur into his chest.

“Then I’ll get sick,” he puts the bags he brought on the foyer table before gently shuffling you towards your bedroom.

When he sees that your made bed (when did you do that!?) does not look slept in, he tsks, “They say that doctors make the worst patients,” he lays you down after pulling the covers back, tucking you in after, “but I think it’s actually stubborn little girls that work in finance.”

His words are lighthearted but you know he’s worried about you, so you play along and whisper as loud as your painful throat will let you, “Sorry, daddy.”

Din kisses you on your forehead, “You’re burning up. I wish you had let me come over sooner, baby. Take care of you and Al.”

“Didn’t want to bother you, Din,” you murmur, snuggling down into your bed; just being in his very presence has relaxed you. That and the drugs kicking in, has you feeling pliant and snoozy.

“You never bother me, sweetheart. Except maybe when you don’t tell me how sick you really are and you go out in the cold while you have a fever,” he says pointedly.

You yawn and close your eyes, confessing, “You seem so stressed out with all the stuff that’s going on with the Mandos lately, Din. Didn’t want to add to your load, make you feel like you have to come and see me and Al when you’ve already had a difficult day.”

“You ever think that maybe seeing you and Al is exactly what I need after a long hard day of seeing some bad shit go down?” says Din, quietly.

Your eyes open wide; you can’t believe you haven’t thought of it like that. You know that anytime you’re having a bad day, it’s been made better the instant you see Din’s face, and even while you’ve been sick this week, you’ve longed for his soothing embrace. Why didn’t you think it would be the same for him? You sit up so fast you get dizzy, but throw your arms around Din’s shoulders and bury your face in his neck, “Oh baby, I’m so sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have kept it from you.”

“It’s okay, pretty bird. You were just trying to take care of me. You need to let me take of you too, okay? I like taking care of you.”

You nod into him and let Din gently lay you down again. As you snuggle back into your covers, you pat the other side of the bed, “Come and sit with me and tell me about your day and all the shit that’s been going on until I fall asleep.”

Din climbs onto the bed and starts to pet your hair, “Sounds good. But whenever you wake up next, I’m going to feed you some soup, okay?” You nod, and feel the bed jostle some more as Al hops up on the bed to join in on the family time. He lays down between you and Din, resting his head on Din’s lap so Din can pat his head as well.

When you’re all settled in, Din looking like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, starts to share. First you learn some background: in addition to the Fett family, there other powerful syndicates in play - The Pykes, the Hutts, the Guavians, to name a few. You make a face when you remember Gorga Hutt and his slimey cronies from Jimmy’s fight night and Din chuckles as if reading your mind. Apparently, years ago, before Boba rose to power, the rival gangs ran unchecked, and violence in the streets was a common occurrence. Gangs constantly fighting for territory or profits made for a lot of instability and it was an unsafe time for Din’s neighbourhood as well as many others in the city. Once Boba had built up sufficient territory and muscle to be taken seriously, he had called the families together and brokered a peace treaty; physical borders and commercial limits were drawn that minimized conflict and overlap of business interests, ensuring prosperity and minimizing bloodshed for all. Din recalls for you how many of his earlier years as Boba’s enforcer were spent strengthening and defending these borders and boundaries. Happily, for the most part things have been stable for many years; nothing is ever truly peaceful but everyone has been co-existing without issue.

However, in the past month or so, something had shifted; little problems and violations have been occurring with increasing frequency.

“What kind of problems?” you ask, you’re fighting sleep to make sure you don’t miss any of what Din is telling you. Din sighs, “Things that if they were to happen as a one-off, wouldn’t necessarily be concerning. Like vandalism of a business under one family’s protection, or minor altercations among lower ranking members from rival families in public places, or even the theft of known family members’ property.” Din rubs his face in frustration. There’s nothing to prove it but Din doesn’t feel that these incidents are isolated; there must be something bigger at play. For now, the Mandos are being dispatched to put out these figurative (and in one case, literal) fires, and to beef up security where future infractions are likely to take place, but Din thinks they need to investigate these events as a whole to see if there is something more sinister behind it all. It’s really been stressing him out.

Holding Din’s hand and stroking it so that you’re the one now comforting him, “I think you should trust your experience with this type of unrest. Plus, you don’t have any reason not to listen to your gut. What does Paz think?”

“He agrees with me, but he’s the leader now and his orders are to quell and prevent further disturbances. Any investigation has got to be secondary.”

“I see. What do you think is going on?” you nuzzle Din’s hand with your cheek, letting him know he can think out loud with you.

Din rubs his chin, “I don’t think it’s a new player, they seem almost too careful. None of the incidents ever hit any big enough targets or players that would lead to full scale retaliation. So it has to be an existing family in order to be in the know. The problem is, I can’t see any of the families risking all out war… for what? A couple of corners? The cost of a few repairs?”

Your analytical brain is turning, “Are the other families run like the Fetts? I mean, when you say it can’t be one of the families, what you really mean is you don’t think it’s a family sanctioned plan or attack, like it isn’t approved by leadership? But, are any of the families big enough or loosely run enough that people could go rogue? Or get away with stuff without their leaders knowing?”

“Hmmmmm… good point, pretty bird. None of the other families are like the Fetts, actually. Boba’s power never came from numbers, but from solidarity… stronger together, is the family motto. Everyone knows what everyone is doing and we stick together, no secrets. As I understand it, that’s not how the other families are run – they’re bigger for one thing. And there’s a lot of segregation so no one knows everything. Everything is need to know and people sort of stick to their own lanes – it’s so no one amasses enough power within the organization to overthrow anyone.” Din shrugs, “I mean, seems like a weird way to run things to me. What you're suggesting would still be risky, and I don’t know why someone would take that risk, but it's definitely possible we should be looking for people who are doing things without proper family sanction.” Din grins down at you, “Smart girl.”

You smile back, “Really?”

“Really. I can think of a few people I want to look into right off the bat. You’ve given me lots to think about, pretty bird. Now go to sleep.”

Yawning a big yawn, you close your eyes and smile, murmuring, “I helped.”

---

When you wake up, it’s nearly midnight; you’re groggy and still feverish, but your stomach is growling and there’s a delicious smell coming in from the kitchen.

You pad out to living room to find Din working on his laptop, a pair of reading glasses perched on his adorable nose. When he sees you, he sets everything down on the coffee table, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Having decided that honesty is the best policy, you croak out, throat still scratchy, “Hungry.”

“Good!” Din guides you to the kitchen and gently helps you up onto a high top at the kitchen island.

As Din takes out a bowl, you ask, “What’s that?” Curious about the pot that’s simmering on the stove; you think it’s the source of the delicious aroma you woke to earlier.

“Peli’s famous chicken noodle soup,” Din ladles some into a bowl.

“You made this?”

“Yeah right. No, Peli won’t share the recipe. Says if we’re lucky she’ll will it to one of us when she dies. Nah, she made this batch for you when she found out you were sick.”

“That’s so nice. She didn’t need to do that. I’ll have to bake her some cookies to thank her when I’m better.”

“She’ll like that, but she wanted to. Pretty girl, don’t you get it? You’re one of us now and we take care of each other. You have more people than you know that have your back.” He puts the steaming bowl of soup in front of you and tells you to wait. Grabbing a blanket from the couch, he wraps it around you, tucking in your arms. You manage a small laugh, “How am I supposed to eat my soup?”

“I’ll feed you,” he holds a hand up when he sees your expression, “you said you’d let me take care of you.”

You nod. It’s not in your nature to let people wait on you hand and foot, but you still feel bad for not telling Din how sick you were earlier so, you sit, bundled up on your chair, and let Din spoon the soup that he blows on to cool into you waiting mouth. It’s incredible. Even your stuffed up head can taste the explosion of flavours, the ginger clearing up your sinuses a bit, and the carrots, chicken and noodles all tender enough to be swallowed painlessly. Din patiently feeds you the entire bowl, and you patiently let him; the look of relief and devotion that Din is giving you is enough to make you glad that you let him. After you’ve brushed your teeth, Din sends you straight to bed, hardly needing any convincing to stay with you until you fall asleep.

The next day, Din calls out from work, both jobs. He knows if he goes in, he’ll just be distracted by how you’re doing – plus, he’s making some headway in the investigative notes that he's making for Paz. He does all the walks with Al, and feeds you more soup. He runs you a hot bath filled with eucalyptus bath salts and stays with you while you soak your achy muscles. When he dries you, you try to give him a seductive look, but end up doubling over coughing and he tells you that while he still finds you very sexy even sick (Is that sarcasm?), you need to conserve your energy. You make a face at him when he tucks you into bed. You sleep. By the late afternoon, you feel like you can sustain consciousness for more than an hour and you opt to lay on the couch and hangout with Din. He puts on the comfort movie of your choice and massages your feet while you eat a yogurt. You fall back asleep before the end of the movie, barely registering when Din turns it off and takes you back to bed.

It's past midnight when you wake up again and the first irrational thing you think is that you’ve somehow gone back in time and gotten sick again, but this time worse. You feel disgusting. Your nose is no longer stuffy, but that’s because the snot is now just free flowing out of your face. You’re so snotty, in no time at all you’re surrounded by a ring of used tissues from having to blow your nose so much, and there’s no end in sight. Your sore throat and dry cough, which had been clearing up, have been replaced with rattling phlegm which you can’t seem to clear no matter how hard you hack, but you try until your eyes water. Ewwwwwwwwwwww.

Din, appears in your doorway when he hears you, “Baby, you okay?”

You look up at him, squinting through your tears at his sleep tousled hair and the wrinkles on the pajamas he must have changed into. You woke him. And this is the thing that just breaks you and you start to cry for real. He rushes over, scared, “Pretty bird, does something hurt? Let me make it better.” His obvious concern and caring tone of voice just make you cry harder, and now you’re snotting even more. Great. You hate that he’s seeing you like this. You’re not the smart, pretty, funny girl he dates, you’re this weak thing, sick and tired and gross. Totally unsexy. Completely unhelpful. Needy. Putting so much on him. He can’t even get a decent night’s sleep around you.

You don’t realize you’ve said this all out loud until Din tuffs out a little laugh. He climbs onto the bed and sits right across from you taking your hands in his, kissing them.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“No, it’s not,” you choke out between sobs, “You shouldn’t have to be here.”

Din sighs, but it’s not a sigh of exasperation, but of understanding; he tips your head up to meet his eyes, “I’m not here because I have to be, I’m here because I want to be.”

“Why? I’m so gross.”

Smiling, Din patiently explains, “Why? Because I love you, pretty bird, that’s why.”

Your eyes widen; your drowsy brain isn’t sure you heard him right, “You love me?”

He nods at you kindly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. But to you, in your current state, you can’t comprehend it, “Like this?”

Din lets out a deep laugh, one that fills the room, and he strokes your hair and looks lovingly at you, “Yes. I love you like this. Like the sweetest woman I’ve ever met, one who never ceases to think of the welfare and comfort of others even when she’s in an obvious state of discomfort herself. Like someone I truly love taking care of because it’s such an honour to take care of her. She’s strong and capable, and she doesn’t really need me and never asks anything of me, but trusts me enough to let me be around her when she’s not feeling strong and capable even though she is definitely still all those things. It’s an honour to be good enough to take care of you, pretty bird, because the only person that can do the job properly is you, and it’s an honour to come second to you for anything.”

“Yes, I love you like this. And I love you when you’re playing with Al, when you’re sneaking the treats you bake to Jimmy when you think Greef isn’t looking, and when you’re happy just to keep me company while I work. I love you when just the sight of you brings a peace into my life that I didn’t know was possible, and when you laugh, or call me ‘old man’ or when you listen to me talk about the Mandos and never judge. I love you when I see your name pop up on my phone and when you hold my hand when we walk Al together.”

“I love you all the time, pretty bird.”

Now you’re crying for a different reason, though no longer hysterical; just silent tears running down your face as you come to the obvious but inescapable conclusion about your connection to this magnificent force of a man in front of you, “I love you, too, Din.”

And you do. You do love him. You love all that he is, all that he’s capable of, and all of who he chooses to be on a daily basis. You love his kindness, his protectiveness, his compassion, his gentleness. You love that he lives by a code that values loyalty, respectfulness, and helping others, and he practices this creed in every little thing he does. You love his playfulness, and his sharp wit, and how being able to make him laugh feels like an incredible accomplishment and when you do it, you just immediately want to do it over and over again. You love that he always makes you feel wanted and cherished, but never treats you like you’re breakable. You love how he’s constantly pushing up his reading glasses, and thinks they make him look old but will blush when you tell him how attractive you find them. You love him when he’s bringing you and your work team dinner and remembers that someone’s gluten free. You love him when he places his hand on your thigh when he’s driving, and you love him when he pushes up your sleeves when they start to slip when you’re washing dishes even without you asking him to. Yes, you love him all the time too.

You can’t tell him all that right now, though; you’re too sick and sleepy, but you think you’ll be able to tell tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. For now, you love him by letting him love you, snot and all. Clearing away all the tissues on your bed, you lay back down and scoot backwards towards of the middle of the bed, making a space for Din and hold your arms out, I need you. Din’s smile spreads wide across his face, relieved and content, he climbs in and wraps you up in his arms. Stroking your hair, your back, as your breathing evens.

Drifting off, you roll over so your back is pressed to Din’s chest, taking comfort in feeling him there, a physical and proverbial wall for you to lean on, “Good night, Din. I love you.”

“I love you more, pretty bird. Good night.”

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #modern!din djarin #modern au #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #no y/n

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