#and too far away from everything to go to parties | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaegeraether · 2 days ago

Text

Sunsets and footballers (Part 98)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (74) / Alexia Putellas x Character (50)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((6.2k))

Due to popular demand, I'm going to post a chapter every Sunday night until we hit Part 100!

YFN POV

YFN felt sick. She looked over at Ridley who was having far too many conversations with Beckett and Duce without saying words. It was fascinating, and terrifying just how well they communicated.

They were both such intimidating people also, though they felt safe. Like protectors. Even of her and Lucy. She’d caught eyes with them a few times since they met, and they were always polite yet on edge. Sort of like Ridley. Something that years of horrors would do to a person.

“Any other information?” Ridley asked, and she knew it was for their sake more than the military personnel standing around the table.

“From the intelligence… he’s travelling. Departed Spain.” She looked up and to Alexia. “As he is the head of his father’s cartel now, he has a wide network of people. We’ll keep protection on your family and friends in Spain.”

Silence. Alexia looked as if she didn’t know what to say but at least that was a little peace of mind for her.

Ridley looked at her watch. “It’s 11pm. He’ll be here early hours this morning.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Duce said, hard, her eyes focussing back on the screen.

Ridley and Beckett shared another look, and he took out his phone to make a call.

“You should enjoy your party,” he murmured to the three he didn’t know so well.

Ridley took Alexia’s hand and entwined their fingers. Her eyes caught Alexia’s reflecting an adoration she’d never seen from her before. YFN couldn’t help feel so overwhelmed with happiness for her friend, and Alexia, who she had grown close to. It was clear that their time away together had been exactly what was needed for the both of them to explore each other.

She subconsciously pressed her body back into Lucy to feel her there. Lucy reacted like she always did and reciprocated, finding her hips and holding on.

Her hands were so soft yet strong. Warm. Comforting. She felt… safe.

Ridley looked at the pair over Alexia’s shoulder.

“Blue, Bronze – come.” She directed.

She immediately followed as she knew it was to give Duce and Beckett privacy to do what they needed to do. Ridley walked slow so YFN could keep up, slowly stepping to press weight onto her braced leg and rolling through it, Lucy’s hands steady on her hips as she did so.

Ridley led them towards the dance floor in the crowded room. As they started moving through the sea of people dancing, Alexia reached back to take YFN’s good hand; and Lucy was right behind her, hands now around her waist and elbows out to make sure no one would accidentally bump into her with her sling.

They reached the middle of the dance floor and Ridley stopped, turned to Alexia and surprised them all by putting her hands on her waist and pulling her so close their bodies were pressed up against each other. After the surprise passed, Alexia draped her hands around her neck, leant into her and pressed her cheek against Ridley’s, closing her eyes as they swayed.

Christ, they really were going all out. God, they were so perfect for each other.

Lucy got the idea and came around YFN, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close as possible with her arm in the way. Her head pressed against Lucy’s strong collarbone. She smelt like home.

“Everything will be okay, little one.” She murmured quietly, knowing she was worrying about the situation.

It seemed like a cut and dry operation. A false location. The best of the best in the country closing around Bashir to capture him. Lumos’s event would go untouched. Everyone would be safe.

She turned her head slightly to see the couple next to her. Ridley’s head was still on Alexia’s, and her eyes still closed as they swayed. She wondered if Alexia knew how important that little detail was for the Australian.

Ridley trusted her. Completely.

Alexia was looking over at them with furrowed eyebrows, the worry was clear in her eyes, and she knew why.

Ridley was worried. And that scared them both.

“Riddles…”

Ridley sighed softly and opened her eyes. “Mmn?”

“Talk to me…”

Ridley didn’t want to talk, and she knew that. But she’d also grown lately, and in particular, as of late with Alexia. “I just want to be around the people important to me at the moment…”

YFN’s heart softened similar to how Alexia’s face did. She turned her head and pressed her lips to her cheek, holding them there for a time. “I love you,” she whispered, nuzzling her cheek lightly.

Ridley gripped her tighter, her arms wrapping around the footballer as if trying to protect her with her own body. Exactly how Lucy did with her.

It felt like… Ridley knew something they didn’t.

The couple’s swayed together a little longer until YFN’s leg was getting tired and she needed to stop.

“What is it, little one?” Lucy asked, always knowing when she was uncomfortable. She pulled back and looked down. “Is it your leg?”

“It’s getting sore.” She admitted. She looked around at the drunk football players and friends of who were dancing around them and didn’t like her chance of escaping the area.

“Come here.” Lucy cooed. She pulled YFN’s good arm around her neck and bent down to grab the back of her thighs, hoisting her up onto her.

“Luce.. your knee.”

Lucy only responded with a reassuring kiss to her jaw as she carried her from the dance floor. She exchanged glances over Lucy’s shoulder with Ridley and Alexia and when they started to follow, YFN gestured to stay where they were. To stay in their happy place. She gave Ridley a wink which was responded to with small smile full of conflicting emotion.

Oh, Riddles.

“Everything okay?” Jordan asked, coming over worried when she saw Lucy carrying her.

“I’m just getting a little sore.” She admitted, a bit embarrassed as her footballer placed her gently on a high stool at their table and started to knead the tense areas of her thigh. She immediately changed the subject. “How’s your night, Dory?”

“Leah’s had a bit..”

YFN followed her gaze across the room to the England Captain with a cowboy hat on, singing loudly next to Beth into a microphone.

They chuckled at the image.

“You’re really happy, hm?”

She already knew the answer. Jordan went slightly redder than usual, the alcohol being a small reason for that.

“It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more. Which reminds me..” she stepped forward and took her hand gently.

YFN let Jordan catch her eye. “I wanted to talk to you both.”

“What’s up, Jords?” Lucy asked.

“Well… Lucy you’ve been a big part of my life since we were kids.. and YFN, you and I have grown this amazing, life-long friendship.. and I’d both really like you to be in my wedding party.” She seemed a little nervous and cleared her throat. “A…and I don’t mean want to upset anyone.. because YFN is one of the newer friends in my life, but we’re just so close and get along so well, and both Leah and I know that we’re only together because of you and what you’ve done, but I love you both so much and…”

Lucy chuckled, catching on. “Spit it out Jords. Just ask her.”

YFN looked from Jordan to Lucy and back, confused for once.

Jordan sighed and squeezed her hand. “YFN.. will you be my maid of honour?”

“Oh… Jesus Dory. I didn’t expect that.” Was her initial response. Followed by silence. And then, she cried.

She turned towards Lucy to hide herself and stopped herself, turning to Jordan instead and leaning into her. Jordan wrapped her arms around her friend tenderly.

“Is that a yes?” Jordan sniffled, YFN able to feel her chest stutter also.

She nodded into her and felt Lucy squeeze her thigh.

Jordan leaned back and the two smiled at each other.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you asked her then?” Leah slurred, her arms going around Jordan’s waist.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Mmn.”

“I take it Keira is yours?” Lucy asked.

Leah nodded. “Asked her yesterday.”

“Is everything okay?” Ridley asked, scanning their faces.

YFN realised she was worried because they were crying. “It’s all good, Riddles.”

Ridley nodded, and then disappeared. Alexia extended her phone towards YFN who gave her a confused look. “It’s Ona… she wants to talk to you.”

“Oh!” YFN took the phone. “Ona! How are you?”

“Hola, YFN.” YFN could hear the smile in her voice. The thing with Ona was that even her voice was attractive.

Because the room was so loud, YFN had to press her free hand over her ear. “Hola, Ona. Everything okay..?”

Alexia and Lucy were looking at her quizzically as it was so unusual for Ona of all people to want to speak to YFN.

“Yes. I took your advice and uh… I think I met someone, but I don’t know what to do.”

ALEXIA POV

Alexia was curious of why Blau of all people was the one Ona wanted to speak to. She cocked her head as she watched Blau talk on the phone. At that time, she noticed that she was empty and cold, almost. She’d been so used to Ridley around her that she noticed her lack of presence immediately.

She looked straight to where she knew she would be, with her team. They were having what seemed to be an intense discussion.

Ridley looked up, spotted her, and looked back down. Alexia knew she was checking to make sure she was safe. She did it often, even before they were together, but even more so now.

“Ale?” Blau said, breaking her from her daze.

She turned to see her extended arm with Alexia’s phone.

“Thank you. Everything okay?”

“With Ona? Everything is more than okay.” She replied with her cute, dimpled smile.

Alexia smiled in return and decided not to push. She was too focused on Ridley who was now making her way back over to the group.

“Home time, I think.”

“Already?!” Leah whined.

“You two stay and have fun!” Blau eased. “Thank you for the invite..”

“You want to go, little one?” Lucy asked.

“I think it’s for the best, Luce. My body is getting tired.”

“Okay, my girl. You two want a lift home?”

The car ride was mostly silent. Blau and Lucy were in the front holding hands and murmuring to each other while Ridley and Alexia were sat in the back in silence. It wasn’t tense, she was just deep in thought and staring out the window. Behind them, Duke and Beckett were following closely.

Alexia let her have a little time to herself, but halfway home, she unclipped her belt and moved across to sit closer to the Australian. Ridley broke from her stupor and turned to her.

Alexia didn’t say anything. She simply raised her arm and let Ridley come to her. She always felt better with her close.

To her surprise, Ridley put her arms around her waist, pulling her close and finding Alexia’s neck with her mouth.

She sucked the skin there into her mouth, her tongue gliding over it before sucking.

Alexia felt it in her clit. She shivered and tried to turn her head so Lucy couldn’t see too much in the rearview mirror.

Ridley marked her neck and Alexia’s first thought should have been how to cover it for the event the next day, but instead all she could think about was getting home and fucking the distraction out of Ridley.

She felt fingertips slide down and under the hem of her shirt, gliding along her skin.

Ridley’s mouth kept exploring her neck with hot, tickly breath and lot of gentle teasing. Her fingers moved down, stroking the skin under the waist of her pants, teasingly and Alexia felt her legs automatically part. She could feel Ridley’s smile against her neck. Her mouth moved up to her ear and Alexia shivered at the feel of her breathing there.

“Tonight, you’re mine.” She murmured huskily in Spanish with just a tinge of Australian accent.

All she could think was that she was always hers.

“Are you two fucking in my car?”

Alexia’s back hit the door of Ridley’s bedroom as soon as it closed. Ridley’s hand came up to grasp her jaw as her tongue slid in her mouth. Alexia moaned out of reaction and pushed back against her, sliding the jacket down her arms and pinning them there. Ridley managed to rip one hand out and grab her throat, squeezing as she pressed her harder against the door.

Alexia dropped her grip on the jacket and instead ripped open her shirt, buttons flying as she wrenched it off of the Australian. Just when her arms were about to be immobilised again, she growled and ripped it off herself, throwing it across the room. Her hands found Alexia’s tits through her shirt and squeezed just rough enough that Alexia had to pull her mouth away just to gasp. In that short break, her shirt was up over her head and gone. Ridley was sliding down her body, hands and mouth trailing, marking, exploring aggressively. She slipped her shoes off and with one hand, she unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them down over her hips. That was the most patient part of her, when she held Alexia’s calves one by one to stop out of her jeans before tossing them away.

She’d assumed her underwear was next, but no. Ridley’s hands gripped the back of Alexia’s thighs where they met her ass, her mouth coming down on her clit over her underwear. They were already stuck to her with the excitement she’d built up in the car, but this was something else. Somehow, Ridley’s tongue was just as effective through the fabric, first sliding left and right to work her way between her folds until the flat of her tongue was directly over her clit.

Her tongue teased, making Alexia’s legs tremble and feel unsure. While she tasted her, her hands slid up over her ass, under her underwear and squeezed as if it was hers. Because it was. Ridley was obsessed with her hips and ass, and Alexia knew it.

The Spaniard swore in Catalan, and just before she lost all of her dominance, she reached down to grab Ridley around the throat and squeeze, dragging her back up to her mouth. She tasted herself in her mouth, her hands fisting that dark, shaggy bob of hers which was getting too long, and turning her head to better taste her.

Ridley’s knee replaced her mouth, pressing onto her cunt expectingly. She couldn’t help but give her what she wanted, rocking hard against it and shivering at the feel of that pressure on her clit. She could feel herself ruining Ridley’s pants but knew they both didn't give a fuck. Regardless, she reached down and unbuttoned her pants, pulling them open. Before she could drag them down, Ridley caught her hands.

“Patience, la Reina.”

Alexia grumbled, shoving her. Ridley stumbled backwards and the footballer followed, shoving her again. She caught up to her at the bed, managing to catch her off guard again before she’d caught herself. Alexia picked her up, throwing her onto the bedside table and knocking off the lamp which shattered on the floor. Her mouth landed on hers again, hands on her face, desperate to touch and taste her. Ridley groaned into her gripping wall with one hand and her blonde hair with the other. Alexia’s hands moved down to Ridley’s tits squeezing and kneading before getting so frustrated at the sports bra that it was up and over her head, thrown somewhere across the room.

Her tongue glided down over her jaw, neck, chest, stopping only to suck her nipple to a peak before moving onto her abs. She grabbed the waist of Ridley’s pants and ripped them off, shoes with it. She came back up, her eyes falling onto her underwear slickly attached to her cunt but Ridley was having none of it.

She found her way to her feet, taking Alexia by the face and kissing her. It was amazing. Personal. And then she was falling backwards onto the bed. She sat up on her elbows just in time to watch Ridley not just take her underwear off, but snap each band at the hips, ripping it from her. She took it and tied it around her own wrist as a prize. Alexia’s mouth dropped open and she felt her eyes darken. She knew she was just about to be fucked. Hard. All goddamn night.

Ridley caught her eye. “Stay.”

She turned and walked away as Alexia lay there panting, watching after her and admiring her physique, scars, and those muscular shoulders of hers.

She returned quickly, and Alexia was focusing so hard on her face, that she didn’t see what she was carrying. Toys landed on the bed next to her. A harness with a dildo, a magic wand, vibrator, hand cuffs, lube, and a bar with cuffs on the ends.

Oh shit, she was in for it.

Her eyes widened and she looked back to Ridley who was watching her reaction, and perfectly in her comfort zone. Holding that eye contact, she removed her rings one by one, and placed them on the night stand.

Alexia swallowed.

Ridley adjusted Alexia on the bed exactly where she wanted her and, holding her eyes the entire time, she knelt down, taking each of her knees and placing them over her shoulders as her mouth again, found her cunt. This time it was hungry and unimpeded. She sunk down and slid her tongue around the entrance to her hole first, darting just the tip in and out a few times before moving back up and taking hold of her clit. She didn’t even work up to it. She teased, hard, as if she knew just how turned on she was.

Alexia didn’t want to come so quickly, because she felt it showed weakness, but she did within a few minutes. She cried out and what’s worse is that Ridley didn’t stop. She continued through it, dragging that shuddering orgasm from her body.

Ridley worked her mouth up over her body, taking her time to mark and suck her nipples into peaks before her mouth landed on hers needily.

One of her hands disappeared and reappeared with the magic wand. Ridley spit on the head and extended it towards Alexia. She took it in her mouth without question, sucking and tonguing the rounded head to lube it up as much as possible. Her body was still shuddering from her orgasm and worsened when it touched her body. Ridley watched her expression as she placed the side of the head on her nipples, circling and taking her time. She worked it down her body, over her sensitive lats and then pressed the body of it against her inner thigh, working right up to her pussy.

She stroked it over her lips first, up and down gathering that excited, slickness of her. Working left and right, she eased it between her folds, pressing it against her hole and holding it there, feeling Alexia’s body react by shuddering and keening. She worked it up towards her swollen bundle on nerves but didn’t touch it. She vibrated every single piece around it, enjoying the frustration building in her girlfriend.

“Please, Ridley… please.”

The Australian hummed happily, and gave her what she wanted, smiling when her body jerked at the feel of the vibrations on her clit.

Ridley lips traced her face: her temple, cheek, jaw, ear, neck, all while she worked the wand on her clit.

Alexia wanted to say she lasted longer than last time, but she didn’t. In fact, she came quicker than the time before, gripping onto Ridley’s hand to hold the pressure of the wand against her clit, vibrating her through a violent orgasm as she cried out and her body shuddered uncontrollably.

Just as she was getting sensitive, the wand disappeared. She gathered her breath, spent and sweaty. Angry almost, her hand dipped into Ridley’s underwear and found her there. Ridley tried to stop her, but to no avail. She was determined. She spread Ridley’s legs with her own, holding them apart as she rubbed her clit, dragging out of her exactly what she’d just done to her.

She was fighting at first, until she wasn’t. Until she was rocking against her hand, swearing into her mouth as she came close.

“Not yet. No. You can come around my fucking fingers.” Alexia snapped, two fingers moving down and sliding into Ridley, stretching her while her palm finished the job. In retaliation, Ridley came crying into her ear, gasping and shuddering. Fuck. Ridley’s orgasm was something else.

Even more frustrated now and trying to take her power back, she grabbed Ridley, their mouths crashing together hot, heavy, and salty as she flipped her onto her back.

She needed more.

They moved desperately and shakily. She grabbed at the harness and worked it up onto Ridley while the Australian took the dildo and lubed it up. Alexia tightened the strap harshly and as soon as she slipped it in, Alexia was sinking down onto it, groaning at the feeling.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

She fucked herself on her girlfriend like she was being paid.

For the first time in her life, she didn't give a fuck about her knee. She didn’t care if she hurt it more, or even if she never played football again. All she cared about was the woman below her, and the feel of that strap sliding in and out of her.

Well it was sliding, until Ridley took hold of her hips and started thrusting up. Then it was fucking up into her. She didn't know if it was more of her riding, or more of her taking what she was given. Regardless, it made her eyes roll to the back of her head as she cried out through it, not even sure what words were coming from her mouth.

Ridley. Fuck. Ridley. Fuck me. I love you. Fuck me. Ridley. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m yours. Fuck.

Once again, her power was being overtaken by Ridley controlling the situation. She wasn’t mad, but it was frustrating, and so she needed to get some of that out. She grabbed her by the throat as she rode, squeezing the sides and limited the blood flow to her brain. Ridley’s eyelids fluttered and she groaned, her head and eyes rolling back as she became lightheaded. Alexia made her horniness known.

“Fuck yes.” She said through her teeth. “Take it, Lee. Fucking take it until I come.”

She reached down and tightened the harness of the strap as she rode, which put more pressure onto Ridley’s clit. Alexia adjusted the way she rode, leaning backwards more and watching Ridley’s body reacting, knowing she was hitting that good spot.

She was dripping down the strap, covering her girlfriends hips, but it didn’t phase her. Ridley was losing it and she knew that. Her orgasm was glorious. Ridley came first, having been so pent up and gripped hard onto Alexia’s hips as she shuddered. As she came down, Alexia released her grip on her throat and watched the colour come back into her face as a result. The Spaniard chased her orgasm, finding her own creeping up shortly after Ridley’s.

Ridley, however, had other plans. She flipped Alexia when she wasn’t prepared and pulled out, grabbing the pole Alexia had never seen before.

Panting and frustrated over being denied her orgasm, she sat up on her elbows to protest as Ridley grabbed each ankle and cuffed it to the pole.

“What is this?” She argued, wrenching her legs against it. The pole split apart, widening her legs and keeping them there.

She’d fucked up. Ridley grinned and Alexia’s eyes widened. “Shit!”

Ridley grabbed the pole in the middle and flipped it, in turn flipping the footballer with it. Shit. She tried to wriggle away and Ridley caught her hips, lifting them and placing several pillows under her to prop her ass up.

Shit.

She was so exposed.

Ridley’s knelt behind her and bent down, her tongue swiping through her folds. She shivered. Alexia heard her spit into her cunt, and then cried out as two of her fingers pushed into her. She grabbed the closest pillow and dragged it down to have something to grab and bite onto as she took it.

“Aaaargh fuck. Lee.”

Ridley’s free hand slid up her spine to the back of her neck, and then into her hair. She collected her hair into a ponytail, twisting it around her hand and pulling her head back towards her as she pumped her fingers back into her again.

She’d never been in such a vulnerable position, but she felt comfortable. So comfortable that she was unconsciously pushing her ass back in offering. Ridley would never hurt her. She just wanted to give her all of the pleasure in the world.

Her fingers came around in front of her and Alexia sucked just as she'd wanted, her head movements controlled by Ridley’s hand on her ponytail. She moaned onto her fingers.

Then Ridley pushed her legs again further, the pole extending and locking. Her bodyweight pressed down onto her as she buried the cock back into Alexia, pulling her head back at the same time.

They managed to sleep maybe four hours in total. After the roughness, the desperation, the chaotic love expressed as aggressive fucking, they’d showered, cuddled, kissed each other to sleep. Alexia had been worried she’d wake alone, but she didn’t. Ridley was there, fully clothed and holding her, with a warm Chiquito purring against her back.

“Good morning, Lex. Welcome to your day.” She murmured, kissing her forehead.

Alexia groaned, hating mornings. She took a deep breath and pressed her body further into her girlfriend.

It was then that she noticed the clothes. She woke quickly, pulling back.

“Planning with Duke and Becks.”

She looked around sleepily for a clock.

“It’s 9am, love.”

Alexia yawned and laid her head back down onto Ridley, enjoying her warmth and softness.

The Australian held her for a while and let Alexia drift in an out of sleep. Eventually she spoke.

“Blue and Lucy will be here soon, Lex.”

“Mmn?”

“Mmn.” She chuckled in response. “In about ten minutes. Brunch is ready soon. I need you to eat before you go. So I need you to get up, please.”

Alexia sighed and nodded. “I need a shower.”

“I’ll be downstairs.” Ridley went to move and was stopped by Alexia’s tight grip on her shirt. She turned back and was captured by those worried, hazel eyes of hers. As if Alexia had just realised what today was. “I’ll stay with you.”

Ridley stayed while Alexia showered. She was there with her towel when she’d finished, and she’d laid out both her wardrobe for the day and her clothes for their brunch.

Lucy and Blau were there when they came downstairs. They all greeted each other sombrely. Blau did try to cheer the mood, though she only managed to a little. Alexia tried to ignore the startling image of Duke and Beckett along with other military members ready for what seemed to be a battle. The weapons both concealed and otherwise were enough to start a war. Even Chiquito seemed to watch from afar, picking up on the dark mood.

Ridley caught her chin when she noticed, turning it away from them and to her. “Stay here, with me.” She said before kissing her gently.

After brunch, their stylists arrived along with hair and makeup. It was more of a laid-back event, but then again, everyone always expected fashion from Alexia. Ridley stayed close as she got ready, always within eyesight, though getting a little more fidgety and tense. Her eyes kept flickering over to her team.

Just as Alexia was having the finishing touches of her outfit checked, she came over. “I need to go now, Lex.”

Alexia’s blood ran cold. Her hand paused where it was patting Chiquito and she felt her face drop.

“You’re leaving?” Blau asked from next to her.

Ridley nodded.

“Don’t leave without saying bye, Riddles.”

Ridley chuckled and went over to say goodbye to their friends, hugging Blau for what seemed like a long time. She came back over to Alexia and bent down to say her goodbyes to Chiquito first before standing in front of her.

“It’ll be over soon, Lex. Derek’s team will keep you on time. Remember, you’re leaving 30 minutes after us, and in the opposite direction. Same cars, tinted windows. They’ll follow us, not you.”

But Alexia wasn’t worried about that. She felt helpless.

Ridley stepped forward and cupped her face between her hands. “I’ll come to you when it’s done. We do this for a living.”

“I know,” she murmured.

Ridley watched her eyes and the emotions flicker through them. Her thumbs stroked Alexia’s cheeks softly. Only when Alexia felt her body calming a little, did Ridley step forward slowly into her face, their bodies pressed together lightly, and kissed her the complete opposite to how she did the night before. Loving. Gentle. Tender.

And against her lips she whispered. “I love you, Alexia.”

Alexia fidgeted every single second that Ridley was gone. The 30 minutes felt like 3 hours. Eventually, the other team told them it was time.

“It’ll be okay,” Blau comforted. “They’ve done this a thousand times. She’ll be okay.”

But what if she was caught unawares, or in the crossfire?

She kissed Chiquito goodbye and they drove in the opposite direction to the others. The event was in a place where they hosted gala dinners. It was more of a casual event, though, with high tables and a cocktail set up. They were the first to arrive, of course, as Blau had to arrive early and make sure all was set up correctly.

As they walked into the building, Alexia checked her phone. Nothing.

They were introduced to the building’s security team who looked like amateurs compared to the SAS, because they were. They were to stay close to the group, while the SAS team patrolled the building.

Leah and Jordan arrived next with Caitlin and Katie, along with a few Lumos crew. Blau walked them through the event and how it would be run when suddenly, there was a loud banging sound. She jumped. Everybody froze, because everybody in the room knew about the operation.

She caught Blau’s eye and they were startled.

The lights cut out and there was silence for a few seconds, until the gunshots sounded in the darkness.

“GET DOWN!” Lucy shouted. They all dropped and Alexia felt someone pushing her backwards into other people.

When the emergency lighting came on, the gunfire stopped. She realised that it was the security guards ushering them back into against the wall so they could protect them, but there were only five of them.

Two went to check on what happened, and didn’t come back. More shots rang out. She scrambled for her phone and saw multiple missed calls from Ridley. She started calling her again, and Alexia answered. Before she could talk, a group of men burst into the room with rifles. She quickly turned down the volume, clicked facetime and sat it on the ground next to her on loudspeaker.

One security guard stepped forward with his hands up and was shot in the head. Blood sprayed onto Alexia’s face and she jumped, eyes wide and terrified. She dared not to speak to the phone. One of the Lumos workers screamed and covered her ears, squeezing her eyes shut.

Lucy put her body in front of Blau and pressed her against the wall. Blau reached out to take Alexia’s hand and she grabbed it, squeezing tightly.

The men approached and screamed in broken English to the two remaining security guards. They did as they were told and placed their weapons down, sliding them over and lying face down on the ground.

Once on the ground, one of the men looked straight to Alexia and pointed, his eyes lighting up. Then he found Blau and pointed to her, and back to Alexia, speaking in another language to the team.

They were dark skinned and there was no remorse in their eyes. They enjoyed this. She wondered which one was Bashir. The taller man approached Alexia, hand extended to grab her when more shots rang out. Multiple. Screaming.

The lights flickered, and then went off again.

She saw the silhouettes of the men backing off and spinning around, trying to work out what was happening.

And then a bullet sounded so loud that she knew it came from inside the room. What’s worse, is the sound of it piercing through a skull. Then the thud of a body.

Another bullet, and the sound of another body hitting the ground.

As they were all pressed up against each other, Alexia could feel the trembling of the people around them. The Lumos workers hiding behind her. Caitlin and Katie to her left. Lucy and Blau to her right. And Leah with Jordan next to them.

The lights came back on and a figure appeared. The men with guns spun to shoot but they were too slow. The first fell to his knees and Alexia watched wide-eyed as a knife went in and out of his neck almost quicker than she could see. The next two lunged and the figure dropped, slicing at their ankles with one swift movement, leaping up and shooting them both in the head without a second glance.

The taller man and one other were directly in the way of her being able to see this figure as they approached. The shorter man shot and missed. The figure approached closer, moving like an animal, so confident and swiftly. The man swung his fist with a scream and the figure ducked, slicing across his body and in the same move, coming back across to slice across his throat in a quick, methodical move.

The sound of ripping flesh was outdone only by the smell of blood.

The taller man dropped his gun and fell to the floor, his arms up in surrender. Over him, Alexia locked eyes with Ridley. Her eyes were wild, though calmed when seeing her. She was safe. She looked her up and down thoroughly, before assessing the group.

Alexia felt her body start to move towards her, and Ridley's eyes stopped her. “Stay.”

She kicked the guns back towards the security guards. “There are more coming, I need to go. Tie him up and strip him of weapons. Protect this fucking group like your life depends on it. Shoot anyone who isn’t me.”

A creak sounded from above them and Ridley looked up. The panels in the roof started moving and she tracked where they were. When she was sure, she shot up and heard a groan. Blood seeped through the hole in the roof. She waited for movement, and then she was gone again.

The security tied the man awkwardly and took his gun. More shots rang out in the halls. She couldn’t stand what was happening. She went to move and Lucy caught her. She was watching her hard, and shook her head. “Don’t.”

She was still of two minds when Blau whispered. “Please don’t. She’ll never forgive us if we let you leave.”

“We have to run..” Katie stressed.

Blau shook her head. “No, the safest place is here. Riddles would have gotten us out if she could.”

The group stared at the bodies laid in front of them. They flinched with each gunshot or scream they heard.

Minutes felt like hours.

The door smashed open again and they all tensed. Ridley entered at a jog, coming back around to the front of the group.

“Tell us what the fuck is happening!” Katie almost screamed.

“There’s more. They’re coming. But my team are almost here too.”

“W… what happened?” Lucy asked, even her voice trembling.

“Snitch. One of ours.”

Alexia caught Ridley’s eye.

“Not my team,” she clarified, and then her face dropped. “He came for you… to get to me… I’m so sorry.”

Gunshots. Her head snapped up, and her gun raised as she eyed the door.

Watching her like this was eye-opening. She was so methodical. A difference person, almost. And the way she moved… was terrifying. Everything she did was with purpose and clear that she'd done it many, many times before.

But it was nothing she hadn’t expected.

It was the part of Ridley she’d never seen.

“Riddles?” Came Blau’s quiet voice.

Ridley’s face twitched. “I’m sorry, Blue.” She turned her head and her face dropped with her gun when she saw her. “I’m so sor-”

A gunshot sounded out. Everything felt like it was in slow motion.

Ridley’s head snapped back and she collapsed in a sickening thud.

The security guards jumped onto the man they’d failed to tie up properly as they wrenched the gun from his hand.

Blood pooled around Ridley’s head where she lay, unmoving.

And then, Alexia screamed.

81 notes · View notes

planetpedri · 3 days ago

Text

Come down soon — Pablo Gavi.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were oh so apprehensive about giving Gavi a chance. Nothing good ever lasted for you, but he’s doing everything to show you this would.

Word count: 865+

Disclaimer/s: a hint of angst , but mostly just fluff :) + kissing at the end

A/N: lizzy mcalpine when i catch you.

Your night had been a blur of pure bliss. Gavi had taken you out to dinner before you two were to attend a mutual friends birthday party at a beach bar. He was the definition of perfect, almost too perfect.

He opened the car door for you, only closing it when you were buckled and comfortable. He opened the door for you while you gathered your belongings. He opened the restaurant door for you, pulled out your chair for you, the whole nine yards; he was there.

Gavi was insanely funny, he knew exactly how to make you laugh, he noticed the small things that made you smile. He spent most of the night asking questions about you and listened intently as you spoke. When you asked him questions, he answered truthfully and thoughtfully, allowing you to know everything about him that you wanted.

He laughed at your weak attempts at jokes, he indulged in conversation about various topics you brought up.. needless to say, it made doubts creep into your mind.

Nobody could possibly be this amazing. Your last boyfriend couldn’t possibly compare to him, and you’d only been on one date with Gavi.

You were upfront with Gavi when he first asked you out. The man didn’t back down though, he assured you he wasn’t like your ex, he made a point of assuring you that he wasn’t going anywhere. He wanted to get to know you, he wanted to show how worthy of love you truly were.

And he did just that.

After the dinner, he’d drove the two of you to the bar. He got out and opened the car door for you, offering his hand to you, which you grabbed onto gratefully.

Once you were standing, he let go, offering you his arm instead. A small, adoring smile formed on your lips at the gesture. “Such a gentleman.” You teased, looping your arm through his and allowing your hand to find a comfortable hold on it.

“I try to be.” He grinned, walking alongside you toward the entrance.

Inside, it was bustling with people. Many you knew, many you didn’t. Somehow, you’d gotten separated as the night progressed.

You had been stolen away by a few of your girl friends, and he with his own friends. But you’d found yourself outside, your heels off as your feet dug into the sand. The cool oceans breeze hit your face, brushing your once perfectly done hair around your face.

“Hey.” A soft, familiar voice says behind you. It startled you for a moment, until you realized it was just Gavi. He offered you a small smile when he took the open spot beside you.

“Hey.” You finally say, glancing up at him.

Gavi looks down at you, his eyes sparkling beneath the dim light that seeped through the bars windows. “Ready to leave yet?”

There was no certain answer to that question. You were ready to leave the vicinity of dozens of drunkards, but you weren’t ready to leave his company. So, you shrug.

“Are you?”

Gavi shrugs back, causing a small chuckle to leave your lips. As you lightly laugh, your head turns away from him, facing the sand. Gavi couldn’t bring his eyes to move away, too busy taking in the sweet sound of your laugh and the way your smile took over your face while you did so.

When you finally look back at him, your breath catches in your throat. He was looking at you with so much emotion in his eyes, it made you nauseous… in a good way.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you, in which you both wondered the same thing.

Who was going to make the first move?

The answer to that was Gavi.

His hand reached up to cup the side of your face, the warmth of them curing your freezing cheeks as the touch had spread red hot throughout them. “May I?” He nearly whispers, his voice filled determined with a hint of hesitation. He was scared to push too far, he knew you wanted to take things slow.

Heart pounding against your chest, you give a small nod of confirmation, but that wouldn’t do for Gavi. "I need you to say it…"

Ugh. He was so sweet. So perfect.

"Yes, Gavi, you can kiss me." You say through a humored breath.

"Good." He mumbles, his lips meeting yours in a passion filled kiss. His lips moving against yours, molding perfectly into them. One of his hands rested on your cheek, the other keeping a delicate hold on your hip.

Your own hands had found themselves occupied. One resting on the side of his neck, the other holding onto the wrist of his hand that held your cheek.

It was by far, the best kiss you’d ever had. Without a doubt.

It seemed like with every passing second, Gavi was sucking all the doubt and worry out of you. With every movement of his lips, the part of you that felt like nothing this good could last, disappeared. By the time you separated, you were certain that this.. whatever it was, well, you were determined to make it last.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any gavi posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to !

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi x fem!reader #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi oneshot #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavu fluff #football #blurb #fluff #angst if you squint #fc barcelona #fc barça #fc barcelona fic

87 notes · View notes

theamazingannie · 2 months ago

Text

The longer I’m out of the service industry the more I long for Christmas. Before I would sob if I saw the color red before December and now Halloween isnt even here yet as I’m like “I can’t wait to buy wrapping paper😃”

#someone stop me this is bad lol #I still love Halloween but it isn’t as much fun when you’re too old for trick or treating #and too far away from everything to go to parties #at least this year I’ll be started subbing by then so I’ll get to dress up all month at school #but Christmas is a guarantee cuz it’s a family holiday #and I already have gifts bought #that are just stuffed somewhere in my room #and I want to wrap them!!!!#this is awful I need to get a service job again lmao

0 notes

tswwwit · 7 months ago

Note

i have a counter argument to the 'only one person can boop bill' thing, mabel. she's the type of person to slap stickers on people, she would definitely be the type to also boop others occasionally and bill would be no exception. she probably doesn't do it to annoy bill like dipper would, but maybe as a form of a friendly gesture, kind of like those people who will lightly punch friends in the arm when they hang out.

You know what? Good point. Mabel would get away with more than most, as a fun-loving lady! Bill understands those impulses, and being a touchy person! He indulges in similar ones himself.

Though when Bill's not in the mood to be playful and gets booped anyway? The 'sister-in-law' status grants her considerable grace.

#answers #Though in addition to that - Mabel's general chaos and level of Fun Times is something Bill genuinely likes #Catch these two having one too many margaritas and slinging arms over each other's shoulders while singing too loud and off key #She'd have some leeway even without the brother situation #But Mabel gets a pass on things she normally wouldn't purely on the merit of 'this would piss off the spouse'#The thing about Bill is he's genuinely fun to party with - right up until he decides you're the pinata #Even now there are times when she thinks she's doing something 'cute' and Bill was NOT in the mood but just has to grin and bear it #Instead of breaking fingers one by one #Dipper is singular in his ability to get away with Pretty Much Everything #It's love yest but it's also communication and personality I'm afraid #If Bill DID call Dipper out on doing something Too Far he'd get an embarrassed and apologetic husband. With kisses of sorry.#Though in minor circumstances: he starts arguing with him #Turns out that bickering is a better way to deescalate with Bill than most other tactics and Dipper's a pro #Now Bill's gotta think semi-rationally to Win The Argument instead of acting on impulse.#And in the process of debate he not only: learns where his husband's coming from but has time to cool off #Congratulations Dipper! Your Nerdy Logic brain and ability to Rise to a Challenge prevent Bill from going immediately nuclear #Plus showing off that big sexy intellect of yours doesn't hurt #Whereas I see Mabel pushing one of Bill's few boundaries and then deflecting. She ain't great at conflict #Brushing it off and laughing; Jeez it was just for fun!! Lighten up already!#Exactly what Bill says when HE'S being a dick to someone!#Which is why he'd react Very Badly to that excuse #Ha ha! Fun! Of course Bill loves fun! You know what HE thinks is FUN #Barbecue. Flash-fried pork ribs. Where's that stupid pig #Dipper has to disarm that particular bomb and I highly doubt it's a pleasant process

100 notes · View notes

bacchuschucklefuck · 4 months ago

Text

the never stop blowing up vhs is where cute twinks go to get harmed

#not art #nsbu spoilers #kirk blade.... johnny manhattan..... maybe tenuously cosmo chase #also genuinely I Love that vic ethanol is showing himself to be bit of a dick #and kingskin conversely First Actual Communication With The Player is like. idk I just work here #(I am vibrating in my seat abt liv bloodlust. shes experiencing a bit of emotional consequence. hope she powers thru it and #becomes even worse)#I also love that g13 and jack manhattan are both like. gone #I know in adventuring party they're charting it to shape up as like. usha also slowly losing herself to the work like g13 did #and them becoming one entity entirely in the sense that their selves stop mattering in the face of their hacker capacity #(also called the Forum Moderator Dilemma)#but I also like to think that g13 handed it back to usha cleanly in the second episode with that one interaction #and is now fully unplugged from everything. left the movie. man is Sleeping #we all agree that paula ate jack manhattan tho I think it's fine to assume that #and! the way russell has been like. fully going whole hog full tilt into helping other people and moving the plot along #while Suggesting That Doing Self Reflection And Learning Lessons From This World Might Help to Other People #like I love that. 1/lieutenant syndrome but also 2/extremely transfem coded #like past the ''ohh I have realisationd I'm coming to'' stage. far past. man is bored with thinking abt genders #not new realisation to him! had that thought two decades ago. not motivated enough by anything to change anything #I think I just love the scenario of like magical mystical journey in a fantasy world clearly designed to make you contemplate ur gender #and ur like oh no what? we did that years ago. whats up #deeply interested tho. open up russell we wanna see whats up with u #dang is perfect no note 10/10 more important than anything else he is genre aware and savvy and that truly is all he needs here #the ''let's make it fun'' scene he does with liv is SO good I love him. Im so scared the vhs will snatch him away. hes too genre perfect

25 notes · View notes

aria0fgold · 7 months ago

Text

Thinking more about my isat au and I'm gonna need to change a LOT more than I thought. First things first, Siffrin's connection to the wish. Since in Of gems and pages, all the wishes stayed the same. So why is Odile the one looping and not Siff? So basically, what I think I'd do in my au is that the Universe decided to change things up a bit.

The first time the Universe granted Siffrin the means to fulfill their wish, things went horribly bad (just look at Loop). So this time, the Universe decided to give this new Siffrin, something a lil different. They still gave Siffrin the timeloop But made Odile his proxy. So that Siffrin may have helpers in this new timeline, with Loop as the guide and Odile helping as well, it Should go better, right??? And since the wish is connected with Siffrin's emotions, the Universe can't just completely make it Odile's problem now, sooo basically... Siffrin can still remember Parts of a previous loop PRIOR to their deaths.

That means during the beginning of canon when Siff was crushed by a boulder, he remembers that. And found Loop as well, but when he accidentally ended up touching a tear, he now Doesn't remember being crushed by a boulder but by being frozen in time. At the same time, he ALSO doesn't remember Anything else prior to it. So he doesn't remember that there's a boulder that can kill him by the entrance of the House, he doesn't remember Loop. All he remembers is that somehow, one way or another, he was frozen in time within the House and needs to be more careful with the tears. And because of the way that the loops affect Siffrin now is faaar too different than how it affected Loop, he can't go forwards or backwards in time. Siff will always awaken back in the meadow and Loop will always have to do their whole speech all over again (which would most likely annoy them immediately cuz why? Why is it so different now? Why can't this Siffrin REMEMBER?)

Odile on the other hand, remembers ALL the loops and finds a lot of discrepancies with Siffrin. It takes awhile for her to meet Loop and they get to talk to each other. Their meeting would be pretty... rocky at first. Loop still getting regarded as a stranger by Odile, Loop finding out that Odile is the one getting affected by the timeloop from their own selfish wish. Even if that Siffrin isn't them, it doesn't change the fact that they both made the same wish. Loop thinkin bout being such a favourite cosmic joke of the Universe that not only were they turned into This, one of their family members are suffering cuz of them. And she doesn't even recognize them. It'd be pretty hard at first too cuz Loop doesn't know that their appearance changed yet, there's no mirror. For Loop, they might still look like Siffrin, right? But Odile's reaction to seeing them says otherwise.

Anyway in this au, stage wise, Odile is the actor, Siffrin is the director, and the Universe is the audience. Book wise, Odile is the character, Siffrin is the writer, and the Universe is the reader. Why is Siffrin the director or the writer and not the Universe? That's because the timeloops are Still connected to his emotions, if something he didn't want to think about happens like, that argument with Bonbon (just as an example. I'm wondering if that'll still happen here considering that only happened because of Siff had memories of all the loops in canon. He doesn't have that in this au anymore), time would loop back still, so in a way, Siff Is writing how the timeloops go.

#aria rants #isat spoilers #isat au #of gems and pages au #ogap au #also why did the Universe choose odile? i like to think that the Universe finds her as being skilled enough to be able #to easily help fulfill that wish considering that she Was able to deduce the timeloop when given enough clues #at the same time. odile also seems to be both really close to siffrin (the fact that they go on secret quests before)#and far away from the party emotionally. odile doesnt regard anyone as ''friends'' and so convinces herself that theyre just colleagues #but deep down. she also knows how much she cares for everyone to the point of willing to do unspeakable things to anyone that #dares harm any of them. she cares so much but doesnt know the word to describe it. friends doesnt cut it. the idea of them #being like family to her hasnt crossed her mind yet when the only family she knows of and have is broken and incomplete (her mom left them)#so shes seems to be emotionally distant from them. she wanted to ask bout continuing traveling with the others but doesnt know How #the Universe sees that and thought that should there be anyone that can easily help siffrin then itd be odile. unfortunately #for the Universe. they didnt quite expect siff being too closed off and dodgy in regards to his own emotions #so it still end up being difficult. even more so now that odile doesnt have the Full picture at all. she has no idea why #this is happening to her in the first place. she only knows it has something to do with siff and during the sequence #before new loop+ happened. the Universe most likely gave odile that chance both out of pity and hope that everything #will finally turn out better This Time. but because of the fact that odile Was dying and she exhausted her craft powers #she cant be brought back to the previous loops easily anymore cuz even if its still connected siff. her ability to be #brought back to loops hinges on craft power as well. siff is just the switch to it. so in a way. shes Supposed to be dead now #but the Universe heard siff's wish and granted the means to save odile as well as grant the previous wish he made #its just that such a wish cant be without a penalty. and that penalty is the timer on odile's life. they have only 99 tries left

12 notes · View notes

logansbaby · 9 days ago

Note

Worst Logan is probably so touch starved

oh absolutely!!!!! thank you wonderful anon for sharing bc you’ve inspired this tiny drabble <3 extremely short but completely spurred on by my need to hug worst logan ty!

no warnings! just one use of slut by wade (ofc)

word count - around 1k

also, the song hear you me by jimmy eat world kept coming to me during this so! vibes maybe?

˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

Logan Howlett hates physical touch.

He hates the way people often go about trying to touch him, whether it be a brief tangle of fingers or a simple hug, he hates it.

He’s not entirely sure where it’s stemmed from, especially considering that as a younger man, he didn’t mind it. Maybe it’s because of the fact that people he cared for were always too far out of reach, leaving him a swirling mess filled with the aches that follow with unrequited feelings. Or, maybe its the fact that once he’d begun to open up to the people he considered family, he’d failed to protect them, only left to ruin their legacy with his destructive, lethal grief.

The reason doesn’t matter, not really, because he’s okay with being alone, nursing copious amounts of whisky shots to numb his loud thoughts.

His plan of rotting away in a bar alone goes to shit the minute Wade shows up and drags him into the shit show he’d landed himself in.

And somehow, after everything settles down, he finds himself stuck in a new universe, living with far too many bodies in Wade's apartment. He wonders why he stayed to begin with, especially with the way Wade pisses him off like no other, but he knows. In the back of his mind, he knows that the group of people he’s come to know have weaseled their way inside his guarded heart. Knowing doesn’t make it any easier to accept, though.

The red masked man often tells him he needs to get laid, get up and find someone to fix his grumpy, brooding act he has going on if he’s not going to let Wade do it himself (his words, not Logan’s).

And whenever he presses too much, Logan’s claws will unsheathe with that unmistakable snikt! before they dig into whatever limb of Wade’s is closest.

People had caught on very early that Logan dislikes physical contact, so it’s an unspoken rule by everyone to not push the man. Well, everyone except Wade— the man has been impaled by adamantium far too many times and never learns. That, or he just likes the pain a little too much.

So, it comes to a surprise to everyone when Logan doesn’t yell at you, sink his claws into a nearby surface in warning, or growl when you wrap the man in a hug the first time you meet him.

It’s at some party thrown by Wade— purely an excuse for the man to see Vanessa under the guise of a celebration for his newest hair system— or whatever the fuck he’d rambled on about, Logan wasn’t listening.

He’d been on his way out, the ghost taste of whisky tingling his tongue as he plans to waste away at the closest bar, when he catches a glimpse of something akin to an angel.

That something is you.

You— in all your pretty glory, a beacon of light that glows through the entirety of the dull apartment with just a single smile. Hair frames your face with wisps that kiss rosy-painted cheeks as you laugh at something someone says. A floral dress sits atop of curves that will absolutely haunt his nights. The scent of you tickles his heightened senses— a swirl of vanilla and honey so sweet that he suppresses a groan.

Logan believes then and there you’re a princess, an angel, something ethereal and enchanting. He wonders then why you’re friends with Wade.

He’s already speechless at the sight of you, wrapped up in thoughts, that he doesn’t realize you’re suddenly in front of him until an obnoxious voice startles him from the depths of his mind.

“Peanut! How could you leave without saying hi to sweetness here? Horribly rude if you ask me.”

Under any normal circumstance, Logan would’ve growled at the man before him, followed by a string of curses. However, he’s too occupied with his body thrumming at the sudden proximity and closeness to you.

“Hi!”

Of course, it makes sense that your voice matches your looks; sweet and syrupy with an addictive lilt.

Before he can utter a poorly spoken sentence, his body goes rigid, every muscle within him immediately tense as an unfamiliar weight is on him.

“Oh, peaches, you don’t want to do that, Wolvie isn’t much of a hugger—“ Wade’s warning comes too late, given the fact that you’re already wrapped around the man frozen in place.

And in an instant, the entire room is silent, because everyone here has witnessed Logan’s distaste when being touched, usually at the hands of Wade.

Logan’s body tingles with how still he is— waiting for that awful feeling to consume every bit of him at the touch of another.

Except, the feeling never comes.

Oblivious, your arms squeeze Logan’s waist as you hug him tightly, head resting against his chest, where his heart hammers maddeningly.

Why is he resisting the urge to bury his nose in your hair?

“I just want to say thank you. I don’t know how you did it, Wade won’t tell me. But I know you saved this universe and I couldn’t be more grateful!”

And, what?

He's confused. You’re speaking to him like you’ve known him your whole life, and he’s not used to this. He’s familiar with people regarding him with disgust or poorly conceived opinions, not this.

“I love my life, truly! My sweet little dog, my friends, my bakery, I couldn’t imagine it being taken away quicker than a breath, so thank you, Logan. Thank you so much!”

Genuine gratefulness coats your rambled words; it’s s then Logan realizes that you’ve pulled back, though your hands still rest causally on his hips, a kind smile gracing your face.

It also dawns on him that the dreaded feeling that often follows people touching him never came Instead, a pleasant tingle kisses the skin that your hands and body touched. Logan has never been more perplexed in his life.

The feel of you is taken away promptly, Wade yanking your body away from his and pulling you to his chest.

“Sorry sweetness, but Logan isn’t known for his love for hugs. He doesn’t like people touching him, it doesn’t end well. And, considering you’re you, I prefer you alive and healthy, not being turned into a human kabob.”

And at that, you feel horror fill you up, your heart sinking, face flushing.

Because oh my gosh, you never would have done that if you had known! but why did you anyway?! you always acted without thought and clearly it had caught up with you!

“I’m so, so unbelievably sorry! I— I didn’t mean to cross boundaries or make you uncomfortable! I’m so—“ before you can ramble yourself into further embarrassment, a deep voice cuts you off.

“S’okay.”

The words are simple, quick. Yet, the delivery of them shakes every person in the room to their core. The implication isn’t to be missed— Logan has never reacted that way to being touched before.

It’s quiet— the room watching with curiosity pooling their eyes and you’re filled to the brim with mortification. And then, the silence is gone when Wade gasps dramatically.

“Peanut, I’m hurt! I thought we had something special, I’ve been playing the long game. And now that’s ruined because some slut stole you away? With a hug? No offense, angel face, but I’m feeling catty.”

His nonsense snaps you out of your head and you roll your eyes, muttering a ‘shut up!’ before focusing on Logan’s face, the man currently glaring at Wade’s face.

“Logan, I’m so sorry. I really am—“

“Don’t worry about it.” He says, but what he really wants to say is please don’t be, your hug felt like home and didn’t make me feel sick for the first time in a long, long time.

You smile, weariness still present. The way your pretty lips stretch into a tiny grin, at him no less, he knows he’s got to get out of there, or he’ll spiral.

You’re about to speak again, but he can’t stop himself from following his instincts. He doesn’t say anything else before practically running out the door, his breath only releasing once he's out of your presence.

And while the man is gulping down numbing alcohol, mind a whirlwind of confusion at himself and youyouyou, the apartment is loud due to Wade having a breakdown.

“—Seriously! I get a claw to the stomach anytime I get to close but you waltz in and suddenly Logan is all for touch? I feel cheated on.”

“Wade, you’re completely overreacting. Maybe you should’ve warned me! I made a complete idiot of myself!” You huff, pacing the tiny living room to expel the anxiety coiling in your abdomen.

“No, baby. The only idiot is me for thinking he’d want me back!” Wade whines, dramatic as usual, and throws himself onto the couch, a move that lands himself in Vanessa’s lap. The woman pats his head in fake sympathy.

“Wade! Shut up, oh my god! He’s never gonna talk to me again!”

And unknowingly, both Logan and you are worrying yourselves sick about that damn hug and the spark that spread from your heart to his.

And maybe, just maybe, Logan doesn’t hate touch after all.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett xmen #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #logan xmen #x men movies #xmen origins #the worst logan x reader #worst wolverine #logan howlett fic #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fanfiction #logan x reader #logan wolverine

1K notes · View notes

dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd · 1 year ago

Text

Mating Season

How Halsin’s romance might have played out if we could have had his kisses, adoration, and been totally railed senseless by Oak Daddy from the end of Act I. An ode to Halsin’s hairy chest, big arms, and the vein that I know stands out so thickly on his *muffled horny noises*

After a long and tiring day of fighting off goblins as you search for the Githyanki Crèche, you groan in relief as you sink into the cool waters of the river. Everyone else is back at camp and you’re able to enjoy the currents swirling around your naked body.

You float in the water, thinking about how much your party has grown in the past few weeks. First Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion, then Lae’zel, Wyll, and Karlach, and finally Halsin, the wildshape druid you rescued from the goblins. He’s a focused member of the group, a valuable healer, and an unstoppable force in battle. You occasionally feel things turning against you in a fight, and then Halsin is there, supporting the group and laying down swathes of flame, lightning and ice. His bear shape never fails to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies.

Around the fire at night, he talks openly about his quest to free the Shadow-Cursed lands, his admiration for the party, and his praise for your leadership. His gentle words about you have your body prickling with awareness of his.

That warm smile of his. His large and clever hands. His deep, gentle voice. Everything about this man makes you tingle all the way down to your toes. Whenever you think his gaze is lingering on your mouth, he murmurs goodnight to you and leaves your side. You watch him go, wishing that instead he would reach out and touch you.

An angry, snarling sound fills the air and you sit up in the water. Not far from you, an enormous bear, grunting and breathing hard, walks heavily down the riverbank. It’s huge, and its muscular body blocking out the setting sun, and from the noises it's making and its attitude, it’s a hair's-breadth from lashing out at anything that moves.

You freeze, not daring even to breathe, hoping with everything you have that the animal will turn around and head back the other way. Instead, it launches itself into the water with an almighty splash.

As it disappears beneath the surface, you notice a faint scar over the bear’s right eye, as if it’s been clawed. You recognize that scar.

Wait, is this--

Golden light flashes. The water seethes. A man stands up where there was a bear just moments ago, water cascading from his body. Halsin, and he must have stripped before he changed into wildshape for now he’s completely naked, standing hip-deep in the water.

He’s partly turned away from you but you can tell his manner is no less worked up than it was in bear form. He swipes his hands angrily through his dripping hair and breathes hard, the muscles of his shoulders and arms clenched in frustration.

Halsin is one of the gentlest-natured men you’ve ever met, most of the time. Like nature, he too can be wild, his eyes flashing and his voice breaking like thunder over you when he’s frustrated or disappointed, such as when he was remonstrating Kagha for the Rite of Thorns. How magnificent he was that day.

But what is he restless for now? He stands in the water, looking around at the forest, gripped with frustration, and when he turns a little more your way you can see that the root of his cock is thickened in a tell-tale manner.

Ah.

That kind of frustration.

You quietly make your way to the edge of the river where a willow tree is trailing in the water, moving as carefully and as quietly as you can. This feels like a private moment you’re intruding on. Even though you don’t mean to spy, it feels like you are. The fronds of the willow provide a little cover for you, and hopefully Halsin will cool off and leave the way he came.

The dice do not roll your way this evening as he approaches you, seeking deeper water. A moment later, your gazes lock, and his eyes widen in surprise.

‘What are you doing there?’

‘I wasn’t spying on you,’ you tell him quickly. ‘I thought you needed some peace, so I was waiting here quietly.’

His eyes run over you, your back pressed against the river bank and cowering amid the willow leaves.

Halsin heaves a regretful sigh. ‘I frightened you, didn’t I? I am sorry. It’s all right, I am myself again.’

He smiles and holds out his hand. It’s a tight smile, like he’s forcing it for you, but you’re no longer worried a bear is about to disembowel you.

You place your cool fingers into his large, hot ones and let him draw you slowly out of your hiding place. The water is deep enough here that your nakedness is covered, and so is his.

You relax as you gaze up at him, enjoying the sensation of Halsin holding your hand. Quietly enjoying the sight of his bare chest and handsome face. You hope he might walk you into the shallows so you can be naked together, but he remains in deep water, sunk in thought.

‘The river is yours. I’ll leave you to enjoy it,’ you murmur, and glance to where you left your clothes.

Halsin’s fingers are still tightly twined through yours beneath the water. He seems to be in a world of his own as he gazes at your mouth, your throat, the droplets of water sliding through your wet hair and down your shoulders. A world that includes you. A world where you’re touching one another.

‘Halsin?’ you ask tentatively. Hopefully. If he wants to move closer and kiss you, that’s more than okay with you. After a long and dusty day, there’s nothing you’d like more than exploring his body in the cool water. That hairy chest of his. His hard muscles. You long to run your tongue over him. Flex your fingers on his biceps. Trace the red tattoo on his cheek.

Halsin comes back into himself with a deep inhale, and he lets go of your hand. ‘Then I’ll see you back at camp.’ He moves away from you through the currents.

As you push the water from your body and dress in your clothes, you search for Halsin in the river, but he’s disappeared around a bend.

***

Later around the campfire, you’re hyper aware of Halsin as you talk with Gale about his home in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin is silent, the campfire flickering over his handsome face. You try not to pay him any more attention than you do the others, but your interest in him has spilled over into blazing attraction.

Your gazes lock and Halsin’s brows are drawn tightly together.

Is he glaring at you?

A moment later he gets to his feet and, unnoticed by the others, slips away into the darkness. Something’s eating at that man and you wish you knew what.

A short time later, you take a bottle down to the river to refill it with water before turning and heading for your bed. As you round the corner of the ruin where you’ve made your camp, you run straight into Halsin.

His eyes widen and they flare with heat and surprise, and then he quickly looks away and moves past you.

‘Have I done something to make you angry with me?’ you call after him.

Halsin stops dead. He stares straight ahead for a moment, and then slowly turns to you, shaking his head. ‘Far from it. I am worked up and frustrated, but not with anger.’

Maybe his frustrations are because of you, and that’s a thought you don’t know what to do with when he keeps avoiding you.

Not knowing what else to say, you tell him, ‘We will free the Shadow-Cursed lands soon. I know we will.’

He breathes out heavily, his expression troubled. ‘I’m not thinking of the Shadow-Curse right now, even though I should be. It is more important than anything I...’ He trails off, but his gaze lingers on your mouth. ‘...want.’

Halsin steps closer, and you feel the heat blazing off his chest. His warmth and bulk are so welcoming and you crave to reach out and touch him. The backs of his fingers caress your hair. The lightest of touches. Then he takes a handful of your hair and dips his head, bringing the strands to his nose.

‘You smell wonderful.’ He heaves a deep sigh, and whispers, ‘Can I hold you for a moment?’

That sounds lovely to you, and you nod.

Halsin wraps an arm around your waist, scoops you against him, and buries his face in your neck. ‘By Silvanus, your scent is sweet,’ he groans. ‘I caught it when we first met, in that foul goblin nest. How it pleased me. Getting to know you these past few weeks has been even sweeter.’

Your hands are plastered against his chest and so is your body. He’s saying everything you hoped to hear. More than you hoped to hear. He has such a beautiful way with words. You turn your head so he can kiss you, but he still refrains.

Taking a ragged breath, he releases you and steps back. ‘I’m sorry. It’s always difficult this time of year.’

You miss his warmth so much that you shiver. ‘What time of year?’

He gazes at you for a long time. ‘You may laugh, but I’ll tell you. It’s bear mating season.’

You don’t laugh, but your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

‘I know--I’m no bear,’ Halsin says with a laugh of his own, ‘but I spend so much time in wildshape that bear instincts tug on my heart and...other parts of me. I return to my own form and unfortunately the needs do not dissipate. In fact, they worsen, because it is not a bear I want. When she comes close to me smelling like spring and honey and warm sunshine I can’t help but crave her.’ A smile glimmers on his lips.

Enough being vague. You want to hear him say it. You step closer and put a hand against his chest. ‘A general someone, or anyone in particular?’

He groans softly and captures your face in his hands. He drinks you in and swipes his thumb across your lips. The gesture is soft, and full of the promise of his kiss.

‘You are someone I admire and I think I could grow to care deeply about,’ he murmurs. ‘I care about you so much already. Any little scratch you receive I want to push Shadowheart out of the way and tend to you myself.’

Your heart soars.

‘But this isn’t how or when I wanted to begin anything with you. I have to walk away.’

Disappointment plummets through you.

He’s still holding your face and his expression is conflicted. It seems he wants to put an end to this for now but can’t bring himself to do it.

‘I can walk away, if that helps?’

His eyes fill with gratitude and longing. ‘Please. That would be a mercy. Know that when the time comes, I will come to you with more than lust in my heart.’

You nod, trailing your fingers down his chest as you step back, but you fail to see what’s wrong with him desiring you. ‘Whatever you need. Of course.’

‘I hope I haven’t offended you.’

You smile gently at him. ‘Your desire is so far from offensive. Please know that I don’t demand more of your attention than you’re willing to give. The Shadow Cursed lands are your priority and I’m...’ How to put this delicately? I’m here for you and you can rail me senseless in between your duties whenever you want to let off steam. That’s what you want to say, but you’re too shy to say it. ‘...Here. Your friend. Always.’

Halsin seems to catch your meaning anyway as his jaw flexes and he nods slowly.

You promised him you would walk away, and you do, and though you give him ample time to allow him to pull you back, the next sound you hear is a clash and a growl, and a flare of golden light. When you glance over your shoulder, a bear is thundering into the woods on all fours.

***

A few days later, you’re returning to camp feeling like you’ve been put through a meat grinder, and your companions haven’t fared much better. Gale is unusually silent and covered in blood. Shadowheart is exhausted and dragging her feet. You’re trying not to limp because she and Halsin have already cast so much healing magic. Something’s wrong with your leg, but you’ll see to it yourself when you’re alone.

The others bid you tired farewells as they head for their tents, but someone catches your arm and holds you back.

‘Oak Father, you’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?’

Halsin is staring at your legs, and you stare with him. Blood is pooling around your foot. Oh, that’s not good.

‘I can tend to it myself after I’ve had some rest--’

Your words are cut off as the massive druid picks you up in his arms and carries you into a crumbling barn. Automatically, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean against the solid bulk of his chest. Halsin lays you down on a pallet and helps you remove your armour, revealing a ragged gash on the top of your thigh. Your clothes have to be cut away until your legs are bare.

Halsin looks exhausted and has dark circles under his eyes. It seems he’s been taking little rest as he roams the forests nightly as a bear. When he reaches for you to lay healing hands on your wound, you place a hand on his wrist.

‘You don’t have to do this right now. I’ll bandage myself up and someone can heal me after they’ve rested.’

Halsin raises challenging eyebrows at you. ‘You believe I don’t have the strength to heal you myself? That I’ll walk away from the most important person in my life and leave her bleeding?’

You moisten your lips, trying not to show how much his words have affected you. The most important person in his life? Suddenly you don’t feel injured at all, and he hasn’t even healed you yet.

‘I have more than enough magic left for this. Now, lay back and let me do my work, and then you can get back to yours.’

You settle back on the pallet and gaze at the cobwebby rafters. Halsin’s hands hover over your thigh, and a warm, delicious feeling spreads through your leg, and then up between your thighs. Your head falls back in relief and pleasure.

Even Halsin makes a surprised noise. ‘That felt...’ He rubs your now-healed high, massaging the last of the tension and pain from your muscles. ‘That felt different. How’s your thigh now?’

You can’t help but moan and arch your back a little at his touch. ‘Good.’ Your voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

‘Just good?’ He strokes his palm over where there was a cut just moments ago.

‘Halsin, please, you make me feel heavenly,’ you whimper. The words pass your lips without thinking. You reach up to take hold of his shoulders so you can pull him down to kiss you, but pull back before you can touch him.

This isn’t what he wants. Your hands clench on the pallet, feeling your core ache with need. As soon as he leaves, you can get yourself off thinking about him.

‘Would you like me to go?’ he asks softly.

‘I never want you to go.’

His hand rests lightly on your leg.

You open your eyes and gaze up at him, and he’s sitting so close to you. ‘But if you stay, you’re going to see me touching myself.’ Then you smile at him, remembering your last conversation. ‘I would love for you to see that. As a friend.’

You want him to see you. You want him to participate.

He smiles and leans down to you, and runs the blade of his nose up your cheek. ‘I can’t think of anything more wonderful after a long, hard day, my dear friend.’

Halsin lays down beside you and props his head against his fist. With gentle fingers, he helps you to drag your underwear down your legs and cast them aside. As your teeth sink into your lower lip, you gently touch yourself, your eyes on his handsome face. Halsin strokes your thighs, your stomach, finds the fastenings on your clothes and loosens them. As he pulls back your bodice, revealing your breasts, he lowers his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth.

You cry out and flex up into him. Heat is gathering within you. You suck on your lower lip and release it. ‘Please--your fingers--I need--’ you manage between pants. You can barely get the words out, but he understands. Halsin drags two fingers through your sex, making them slippery, and then sinks them inside you.

Another loud cry from you. Gods, he feels perfect.

Halsin groans and kisses your throat, murmuring, ‘You’re so tight around me. Have you been as frustrated as I am?’ He pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, slowly at first, and then faster.

Yes you have, the godsdamned stubborn bear of man. He should have pulled you into his arms that day in the river and let you suck all the frustration from his body out through his cock.

‘So frustrated,’ you whimper. ‘Please, that feels so good. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.’

He brushes his lips over yours. ‘I won’t stop. You’re always so beautiful, but like this, all of nature pales in comparison.’

You reach down and lay your hand over his wrist, adoring the tension and flex of his muscles in his arm as he moves inside you. Your fingers keep moving on your clit as you moan and cry out his name, and when you come you dig your nails into his flesh, and press your feet into the ground so he can fuck you even harder with his fingers.

When you fall back exhausted, Halsin sits up and spreads your thighs open, trailing his fingers over your sex and drinking in the sight of you as you catch your breath. ‘Your body is wondrous.’ He leans over and kisses you, his tongue caressing yours. ‘Will you rest well tonight?’

You nod, feeling drunk from his kiss and your climax.

He smiles. ‘Then I’ll rest well too, knowing that you’re sleeping soundly. Thank you for sharing this beautiful moment with me.’

As he sits up, you notice that he’s hard inside his tight pants. Excessively hard. Huge in fact. He shouldn’t be leaving, he should be pulling off his clothes and pounding the living daylights out of you until he also gets the release he needs.

But he’s gone before you can call him back to you. That’s not why he just blew your mind, was it? He healed you, and now he wants you to get some rest. Druid’s orders, apparently.

You smile and roll over, and fall into a doze.

***

The next morning, before anyone has arisen, Halsin finds you coming back from the river. You smile at him, thinking he looks so handsome in the morning light, and you expect him to keep moving past you. Instead, he stops and smiles at you, as if basking in the sight of you is all he wants right now.

‘May I have a kiss?’ you ask hopefully. Perhaps he’s decided not to want anything for himself right now, but he still wants to make you happy.

Without needing to be asked twice, Halsin grasps you around the waist with his large hands and walks you back against the wall, kissing you enthusiastically. ‘I can still smell you on my fingers this morning. I could smell you all night. You are a delight.’

Your lips part for his so he can kiss you even deeper. With your arms around his neck, you revel in the sensation of his mouth on yours.

‘I find you irresistible.’ Another kiss. ‘But we have much to do today.’ Another kiss.

‘We do,’ you say, smiling as he kisses you again.

He gazes down at you for a moment, a slight frown between his brows. ‘If you need more, know that I won’t be offended if you take another lover. Nature intends for us to roam and be free.’

You have considered that, if not someone at camp, then a handsome stranger at a tavern, but you’d only be thinking about Halsin the whole time. ‘And if I don’t want to?’

‘You must do as pleases you,’ he replies, and kisses you again.

You guess that he didn’t tell you this for idle reasons, but to let you know about his own preferences. You reach up and stroke your fingers through his russet hair. ‘I have always wanted my own person, but to roam with them. Share everything with them. I would miss you too much if I was to roam without you.’

He smiles down at you. ‘Us, with others? I would like that, in time. You’re more than enough for me, but I wouldn’t wish for you to be denied anything. Seeing you with another lover, and participating as well...it sounds wonderful.’ Then he steps away from you. ‘But we are getting ahead of ourselves. My thoughts turn to other things for now. But they will turn back to you.’

With a final warm squeeze of your hand, he leaves you, but your heart is lighter than it’s been in a long time.

***

Two nights later, you’re awoken by snarling and roaring in the distance, and you sit bolt upright. It sounds like two large animals are fighting in the woods.

Only Astarion is awake. ‘What a ridiculous racket,’ he mutters with a scowl, before licking his thumb and turning the page of the book he’s reading.

You look over at Halsin’s pallet, knowing it’s going to be empty before you lay eyes on it, but your stomach drops just the same when you see that it is. You scramble to your feet and set off at a run into the darkness.

You follow the roaring and snarling and it doesn’t take long to find two bears fighting with teeth bared and swipes of their claws. You recognise Halsin from the scars over his eye.

What can you do to help him? A spell? A cantrip?

Before you can decide, Halsin swipes the other bear so hard across the snout that it reels back, and then turns and runs away into the woods.

Halsin paces up and down for a moment, and then golden light ripples, nearly blinding you, and when you open your eyes again, he’s striding toward you. His chest is heaving and blood is pouring from scratches and bites across his shoulders and throat. Nothing life threatening, but he’d be in pain if he wasn’t so angry.

‘That bear was looking for a mate, and I wasn’t having it prowling around her when I haven’t even tasted her myself.’

Halsin when he’s feeling himself wouldn’t say something so uncharacteristically possessive. It must be the mating season instincts overriding his natural feelings. ‘That bear wouldn’t have been interested in me.’ Also, you could have tasted me by now if you’d wanted to.

He doesn’t seem to have heard you as he glares into the darkness. Suddenly, he rounds on you. ‘It’s dangerous out here. You shouldn’t have come. Go back to bed.’

You fold your arms and stay where you are. The big alpha bear can throw his weight around, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to jump to obey his commands. ‘Shouldn’t have come? Would you have ignored me if I was being attacked in the woods?’

Halsin takes a deep breath and some of the anger melts from his face. He pushes his hands through his hair and shakes his head. ‘Of course not, I would never abandon you like that. Thank you for coming out here to help me. I promise I’m not ungrateful. I’m all out of sorts because...’ He gestures vaguely at himself and the woods around you both.

You smile at him. ‘I know. It’s mating season.’

You help him pick dirt and gravel out of his cuts before he casts healing magic on himself, but you’re not ready to leave him and go to bed. The river is close by and you take his hand and lead him to the water.

‘Let’s wash the blood and dirt off you.’

At the riverbank, hesitantly you reach for his clothes. He says nothing but he’s watching you with such intensity, and so you find the fastenings and help him out of them. With gentle fingers, he does the same for you. The night air is warm and still. Crickets are chirping and the river makes gentle rushing noises. The two of you are standing so close that you’re breathing each other’s breaths. His massive chest lifts and falls. Your nipples tighten with awareness of him. You don’t want to stare but you can’t help but look at this beautiful man as you undress him.

Halsin helps you out of your underwear, and his cock bumps against your thigh. He’s so hard that he’s standing to attention, his foreskin drawn back, a drop of pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters, and you want to run your tongue along the thick vein that stands out on his shaft.

‘Sorry. Ignore me,’ he mutters.

You don’t want to ignore the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen, but you keep your hands to yourself and look up at him. ‘I want to feel flattered. Should I feel flattered?’

‘You know I think you’re wonderful,’ he breathes, caressing your face.

Oh, by all the gods, then fuck me, please.

‘Would you want me even if it wasn’t mating season?’

‘Of course I would, though I’d probably be better at keeping that to myself. You wouldn’t awaken to hear me fighting other bears in the woods, or see me staring at you with longing across the campfire. I’d still feel the same way, but I wouldn’t be so obvious about it. Probably.’

‘Do you mind that mating season makes you feel and act this way?’

He smiles and shakes his head. ‘It is who I am, and another connection I have to nature.’

‘Halsin. For a wildshape druid who believes in going with what’s natural, you’re very stubborn about resisting what your body is telling you it wants.’

A smile curves his lips. ‘You may be right. I’ve told myself that focusing on the Shadow Curse is the right and only thing to do, but...’

Halsin ducks his head and slants his mouth over yours. The kiss is so fierce and sudden, and pleasure takes a swan dive through your body. He wraps his arms around you and gathers you to him.

‘This isn’t how I imagined things between us,’ he murmurs. ‘I intended to come to you after the curse is lifted and declare my feelings for you, and tell you that my unburdened heart is yours.’

‘Please still do that,’ you breathe, planting soft kisses again and again on his mouth. ‘I would love that. But don’t walk away from me now.’

‘You want me, even though my mind is often on things other than you?’

What a romantic Halsin is, wanting to give you his whole heart at once, or nothing at all. ‘Of course I do,’ you tell him, your fingers stroking his bare back. You don’t need that declaration yet. You just need him.

Halsin lifts you in his arms and carries you into the water, gazing into your eyes. The water flows around your bodies as he kisses you and places you on your feet.

He nods at something over your shoulder. ‘I have to taste you. Turn around and put your hands on that rock.’

You do as he asks, standing thighs-deep in the water and bent over with your hands braced against the river bank. Halsin kneels down in the water and cups your ass.

‘So beautiful...’ You feel his tongue run up your sex, and you moan and close your eyes. He’s slow and languorous about it. Not trying to make you come, just tasting you thoroughly and enjoying the sensation of you against his tongue.

Halsin stands up and when you glance over your shoulder you see him gazing at your sex as he strokes you with his fingers and fists his cock slowly up and down.

‘Can I have you, sweet one?’ he asks huskily.

‘Please, gods, yes .’ You’ll go crazy if he holds back a moment longer.

You feel him step closer, and the blunt head of his cock slides against your slippery entrance. He feels alarmingly thick and you take a deep breath and try to relax.

With a muttered oath, he sinks into you. As much of him as he can, anyway. Gods, he’s a lot . You walk your feet apart, trying to accommodate more of him.

‘Too much?’ he asks, hesitating.

You shake your head desperately. ‘Not too much. More, please.’

He fucks you slowly, working himself deeper by delicious increments, while your cries fill the night air along with his ragged breathing. His blunt nails scratch your flesh. He roughly squeezes handfuls of your ass.

You reach down between your legs and touch yourself, and you grow wetter and wetter, allowing him to fuck you in long, smooth strokes. Every single one makes your insides light up. Your orgasm is barrelling down on you surprisingly fast.

‘Please, fuck me hard, I’m going to come,’ you beg him.

Halsin groans and takes your hips in a secure grip and slams into you, over and over, hard, brutal and heavenly thrusts. You push against the rock to hold you steady as a wild, untamable sensation crashes over you, and you cry out loud enough for the whole forest to hear you.

Your head is hanging low and you’re panting as you feel Halsin draw out of you.

‘But you haven’t come,’ you protest, straightening up and turning around. It’s what you want, to see and feel this beautiful man let go.

He takes your hand and helps you out of the river. ‘I’m not done with you yet.’

He lays back on the grass and pulls you astride him so your thighs are straddling him. ‘I want to see you like this as well.’

Hungry for more, you grasp his cock and sink down his length. Halsin groans and his head tips back, and he squeezes both your breasts in his large hands. His throat is so beautiful, and so is his chest. You draw patterns in his chest hair as you move up and down his length.

Weeks of frustration and wanting him haven’t been fulfilled by one climax, and soon you feel another one gathering within you. He watches you with a smile as you desperately moan and pant his name. As your cries reach a crescendo, Halsin plants his feet securely against the ground and pushes sharply up into you, over and over, making you shatter around him even harder than before.

You collapse forward on his chest, weakened and helpless, his cock still lodged deep inside you.

‘That was wonderful,’ you moan, your cheek plastered against his chest. ‘Give me a moment and we can change positions. I’m not stopping until you come.’

He rubs circles on your back. ‘I think I might shift into wildshape if we keep going. I can feel the need getting stronger and stronger.’

‘I don’t mind. Your bear form is pretty sexy.’

He laughs softly, a surprised sound. ‘Really? I’m pleased you think so.’

Even sexier is the way he looks while he’s changing, his body even bulkier and hair sprouting everywhere. ‘Can you change part ways?’

His hand stops moving on your back as he considers this. ‘I can. I think it might be easier for me to maintain that, rather than one or the other.’

Halsin rolls you both over until you’re on your back in the grass and pinned beneath him. With a heavy hand on your inner thigh, he pushes your knees up to your chest and thrusts deeper, and then again.

‘By Silvanus, you feel wonderful,’ he pants.

A ripple goes through his body. His eyes turn fiercely golden. The hair thickens across his chest and spreads over his shoulders and down his arms. His top lip pulls back from his teeth, revealing thick incisors. His cock swells to what feels like twice its size inside you. You gaze at him in wonder. He looks incredible like this.

As he continues to pump his cock into you, you press your hands against his muscular, hairy stomach, struggling to accommodate all of him.

‘I’m hurting you,’ he realises, his voice more growl than words. ‘I can change back.’

‘No, don’t stop. Just slow down for a moment. It’s a good problem to have.’ You reach down to the place where you’re joined and wrap your fingers around his slippery thickness. Gods, that’s wonderful. So is his bulk looming over you and the rich, animal scent of his body. He thrusts carefully, watching you closely, his golden gaze roaming over you.

‘So beautiful, sweet one,’ he rumbles. ‘Are you sure you like me like this?’

‘Yes, oh gods, yes.’

With every thrust, it’s getting easier for him to slide his whole length deep inside you, and pleasure stabs through you every time he bottoms out.

You reach up and cup his furred cheek. ‘I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even sexier like this. How does it feel for you?’

He groans and seems to take courage from your words. ‘Like I’m finally free. No longer fighting what I crave.’ The speed of his thrusts pick up, and he devours you hungrily. ‘You’re so good to me.’

His breathing becomes a throaty snarl. His claws dig lovingly into your thigh. His hips move in a relentless rhythm, long thrusts, and then shorter, urgent ones, and you can tell he’s nearing his peak. You hold onto his shoulders for dear life as his body stiffens and his climax breaks through him, and he throws his head back.

With a groan, he sinks down onto his elbow and buries his face in your throat. As you hold him tight, you feel him shift back to his human form, his skin smooth and damp with perspiration.

Halsin lifts his head and kisses you. ‘I’ve never done anything like that before. Was it all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

You hasten to assure him that he didn’t and it was everything you wanted.

He smiles. ‘How wonderful you are.’

You stroke his sweaty hair back. Neither have I. You’re so beautiful always, and especially seeing you like that, through wildshape eyes.’

He rolls onto his side in the grass and wraps both his arms around you, keeping you tight against his chest. ‘I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. The world feels so much better now I have you in my arms.’

‘How long does mating season last?’ you ask. You hope it’s a long time, and he needs you often.

He laughs, a deep sound reverberating through his chest. ‘It’s every moment I lay eyes on you, sweet one.’

‘I hope that I haven’t distracted you from your duties.’

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m more motivated than ever.’

You lay like that together in the grass until Halsin feels your cooling body shiver.

He helps you to your feet and draws you into his arms for one last, tender kiss. Cradling your face in his hands, he murmurs, ‘You are the person I admire most in the world. I feel honoured by every moment I spend by your side.’ He kisses you again. ‘Know that I can’t wait until I’m able to tell you that my whole heart is yours.’

Thank you so much for reading. Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! Or tell me how the Halsin brainrot is affecting you while playing BG3. I have just about no braincells left by now. Only Daddy Bear remains.

#baldur's gate 3 #halsin #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #baldur’s gate 3 spoilers #fanfiction #female reader

9K notes · View notes

mattnott · 7 days ago

Text

𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in which you and mattheo were constantly at each other's throats, and this time was no different. WORDS. +6.1K, english is not my first language.

WARNINGS. ‘whipped’ mattheo (he’s obsessed), porn w// plot, reader and mattheo are both 18, making out, smoking , alcohol (mentions), hair pulling, oral sex!f receiving, marking, face sitting, nipple sucking, biting, dirty talk, blood kink.

The loud music spread through the dungeon corridors, pulsing like a frantic heartbeat and bouncing off the stone walls of the grand common room of the serpent house. It caught the attention of passersby, drawing curious glances, as if the noise were an invitation to peek in and see what was happening—or to get involved in whatever was going on behind the closed door.

Inside the crowded room, dark green lights pulsed to the beat of the music, almost as if they were dancing along. They lit up the faces of students who looked like they’d already had a bit too much to drink, escaping from their dorms in search of some much-needed fun after a long and draining semester.

In the shadows at the back of the loud room, Mattheo stayed leaned against the cold wall, with a cigarette dangling from his fingers with an enviable ease. His expression appeared relaxed, yet the messy curls still damp from the shower after a brutal Quidditch practice told a different story about his calm demeanor.

Though he would never admit just how tough the practice had been.

Beside him, Enzo and Theodore were bickering as usual, this time over the recent Potions exam that had been harder than they expected, making their voices louder. Yet their discussion faded into the background of Mattheo’s mind, barely registering in his ears, and he was certain they didn’t even notice his indifferent demeanor towards the childish conversation. His gaze drifted across the room, almost desperate to find something—or someone—to shatter the monotony that had settled over his life in the past few days.

From his spot, he could see drunk students nearly collapsing to the floor—acting like animals, he could swear—others laughing loudly, moving their bodies to the beat of the music, too entertained to notice anything else around them, and couples craving each other’s touch as if they didn’t care about their surroundings. Yet his gaze remained devoid of emotion; nothing stood out—nothing that could break the heavy boredom clinging to him like a second skin.

Taking another look around the room, Mattheo couldn’t help but scoff at his ridiculous state. He felt almost pathetic, surrounded by the chaos he usually appreciated, yet weary of being caught in the middle of it. Everything felt so common and dull that he figured the only adrenaline he might get would come from being lucky enough to vomit the alcohol swirling in his system. He chuckled dryly at the thought, taking a slow drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke curl lazily around his lips before releasing it into the air, watching it dissipate in the dim light around him.

Somehow, that was far more interesting than the party itself.

He leaned back against the wall, a small, irritated sigh escaping his lips as the weight of boredom settled heavily on his shoulders like a coat. His eyes landed on Berkshire and Nott, still bickering with each other—this time about Quidditch—their voices growing sharper by the second. Once again, his attention drifted away, their words fading into a dull roar in the background as he tuned out completely.

His eyes scanned the room once more, this time more attentively. Just as he was about to release one of the last tendrils of smoke from his cigarette, his gaze locked onto the door swinging open again, revealing a sight he hadn't expected at all—you. Stepping out from the shadows of the entrance, you looked around with a blend of curiosity and caution. In that instant, he could swear that everything around him seemed to slow—the music faded, the crowd blurred, as if the entire room were paying reverence to your presence.

Mattheo shook his head quickly, cringing at what his mind—and maybe even his heart—wanted to say. Curiosity sparked in his gaze as he looked up, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers, completely caught up in your presence. You definitely weren’t the type for gatherings like this; “party material” was the last thing he’d call you—quite the opposite. Yet there you were, looking as out of place as you were striking, like a prey wandering into 'enemy' territory. A playful smirk appeared on his face as the boredom began to lift from his shoulders.

There it was—the distraction he needed to keep him on his feet.

His smirk deepened as he watched you weave through the crowded party, letting his gaze drop to your thighs for a moment longer than he should. If anyone had been watching, they might have thought Mattheo’s gaze darkened with something far from innocent, and in fact it did. Glancing back at his friends, he checked for any sign they’d noticed his interest in you—but luckily, they were still too absorbed in their heated discussion, now with Blaise joining in. A glimmer of relief crept over him.

As you moved carefully through the crowd, he pushed himself off the wall, almost instinctively flicking the last embers from his cigarette before tossing it aside without a second thought and striding toward the crowd. His gaze never wavered, following you with an unbothered intensity, watching you like a hawk. He stopped in the middle of the room, surrounded by the drunken bodies, waiting for the moment you’d feel his eyes on you—only then would he make a move.

Maybe this was just another game for him, but if he was being honest, he didn’t care. He thrived on getting under your skin, relishing the power to rip apart the perfect image you projected to everyone. You were too polite, too nice, too good—yet with him, you turned cruel, acidic, and downright mean. He loved it. The fact that he could be the one to destroy you and expose the flaws beneath that polished exterior was intoxicating.

Loving your good side was easy, but he was the only one who craved your darker nature, despising your sweetness with a intensity that almost consumed his soul.

It was no surprise to anyone that you and Mattheo were always at each other’s throats. Since your first year at school, every interaction was filled with cold words and insults, your clashing personalities entertaining everyone around you.

But only Mattheo knew the truth: you were almost a reflection of his own twisted nature, and every stolen kiss only deepened his conviction. Maybe that was why his relentless, penetrating gaze tracked your every move, waiting for the faintest flicker of recognition, longing for the moment you'd finally break and turn to him.

As you continued moving through the room, a familiar shiver ran up your spine, and you gripped your wrists tightly, muttering under your breath—you knew exactly whose gaze was piercing enough to unsettle you like this. Riddle. Turning around, your eyes locked onto his, and when he noticed the angry look on your face, his cruel smirk widened, as if your discomfort amused him. He gave you a mocking wave; his gaze remained fixed on you, heavy and almost suffocating, daring you to get closer to him to show just how much he could get under your skin.

For a moment, you felt trapped by his intensity, the chaos around you fading into the background as his gaze bore into you like teeth. But when you noticed the way he lifted his eyebrows in mockery, you quickly regained your composure, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks.

Looking away, you steeled yourself, refusing to fall for his game like you always did.

But unlucky—or lucky—for you, Mattheo noticed your reaction, and your defiance only seemed to excite him more. He moved toward you slowly, each step amplifying your discomfort, and when he finally loomed close enough, the air thickened between you, heavy with a fervor capable enough to put you down. It was an overwhelming feeling that made your heart race like crazy, and you could see he was enjoying the way you would react to him.

“Lost, are we?” he asked not really waiting for a response, his gaze fixed on you with a knowing predatory glare that sent a shiver down your spine. His low voice dripped with mockery, and despite your desperate attempt to remain composed, every part of you wanted to break before him. Your heart raced wildly, and you wondered if you were on the edge of a heart attack.

You narrowed your eyebrows, your eyes filled with a hint of disgust as you finally faced Mattheo completely. His smirk only grew wider, but you raised your chin with every ounce of defiance you could muster in that moment. “Lost? Hardly,” you replied sharply, your gaze assessing him with disgust.

As you continued to stare at him, a memory of his clumsy fumbling during Quidditch practice flashed in your mind, causing a disdainful chuckle to escape your lips. You could see the way that mockery threw him, noticing that he was likely the cause behind that nearly insufferable mockery.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” He spat through clenched teeth, his anger barely contained, which only made your grin widen and his scowl deepen. He should have been the one to rile you up, not the other way around.

“Nothing much,” you hum, the false sweetness dripping from your words. He glared at you, clearly itching to hurl an insult, but he held back, aware that you were just getting started. “Just about how you humiliated yourself tripping over your massive ego during today’s practice,” you said, savoring the way his expression soured. “Honestly, it was the highlight of my day.” You teased.

Mattheo’s expression darkened as he let out a dry chuckle, forcing himself to meet your gaze. How he wished you weren’t so beautiful; he hated the way your presence twisted in his gut, making him crave what he knew he shouldn’t. Yet there you were, effortlessly making him feel less of the person he was.

Your beauty almost consuming his whole.

“Maybe if you spent less time criticizing me and more time focusing on yourself...” he began, his voice dripping with bitterness yet with mocking amusement, making you frown. “You wouldn’t be so fucking bitter.” He shot back, taking an unconscious step closer, invading more your space. The fever radiating from his body was almost intoxicating, and you fought the urge to step back.

Swallowing hard, you raised your chin even more, your eyes locking onto his almost hypnotic brown orbs. You couldn’t deny the idiot was handsome, and it was obvious that he was aware of his own beauty, appreciating the effect it had on you as he used it to overpower you, pushing the boundaries of your composure.

“Bitter?” You forced a laugh, attempting to sound unaffected by his words, even though the truth was that Mattheo’s proximity was rattling you to your core. “I just enjoy your suffering. Watching you nearly fall from your broom was... truly entertaining.” You grinned, convinced you’d won the argument, but when his smirk returned, you realized you were the one being toyed with.

“Oh, really?” he began, a smug grin spreading across his face as he caught sight of your flustered expression. “So, not only were you watching my practice, but you were watching me, too.” He drawled, clearly savoring every moment as he enjoyed your discomfort. “Couldn’t resist, could you?” he taunted, blinking slowly in mockery, fully aware of the pull he had over you.

The boredom was definitely gone at this point.

Unlike Mattheo, you blinked rapidly, his words almost suffocating your brain, heat flooding your cheeks as you realized how easily you had exposed yourself. It was infuriating how much he observed the information you unwittingly gave him, and the more he had, the more he used it to make you nervous.

“As if I’d waste my time watching your stupid ass flounder around on a broom like a fucking idiot.” You scoffed, refusing to let your guard down, even if the proof of the embarrassment burned on your cheeks. “You’re not that interesting, Riddle.” You shot back with venom, but his smirk only widened, augmenting your irritation.

You were getting mad, and he loved it. Watching you unravel gave him satisfaction, you were finally losing your composure, almost revealing the side he was eager to see again.

“I’m not that interesting?” Mattheo drawled mockingly, his lips twisting into a fake pout that almost made you cringe. “Yet here you are, practically begging for my attention. Quite the contradiction, isn’t it?” He hummed, amused.

He was infuriating.

You looked at him, almost incredulous, torn between his audacity and his stupidity. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you hissed, but he remained unfazed, clearly enjoying the negative attention you were throwing at him. “You’re the one who came to ‘talk’ to me, so get a grip,” you shot back, and for a brief moment, his smile almost faltered.

Mattheo’s gaze dragged over you slowly, every detail taken in with a lazy, shameless boldness that refused to let you feel any sense of power. The smirk was back, curling at the edge of his mouth as though your insult had already slipped his mind. With another step forward, he closed the space between you, close enough for you to catch the sharp edge of his cologne mixed with the lingering scent of the cigarette he was smoking before.

“You talk big for someone who’s practically shaking in my presence,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerously soft, each word daring you to react. “Maybe you should get a grip, princess.” You nearly cringed at the nickname, but his words hit, and though you’d never admit it, a part of you knew he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Mattheo's presence was suffocating, so suffocating; each step he took left you feeling like a part of your logic had slipped away. You hated it, you hated how each encounter left you feeling a part of yourself was missing. Yet, no matter how many times this twisted game played out, you found yourself drawn back, absorbed by the chaos he ignited in you.

But you weren’t the only one unraveling—Mattheo was drowning too, trapped in the same game, and the only thing that changed was the reason behind it.

If your chin wasn't raised enough, you would have lifted it one more time, but unfortunately, you couldn't; instead, you had to cling to the last shred of self-respect you had. “Shaking?” you scoffed, your voice dripping with sarcasm, though he could easily detect the tremor beneath it. “Trust me, if my body's shaking, it's only because I'm holding myself back from shoving you off this wall and breaking your damn nose.” You hissed, taking another step closer to him, forcing him to suppress a satisfied sigh at your defiance.

Yet Mattheo didn’t hold back his smirk; it only widened further, with a subtle glint of satisfaction appearing in his eyes. If you had the courage to look closer, you might have noticed it. But his proximity left you oblivious to anything else—your attention was fixed only on how close his body was to yours, how his face lingered near yours without closing the distance.

It was torture.

“Is that right?” he asked, taunt dripping from his tone as his eyebrow arched, his gaze bearing down on you. Maybe he wanted you to feel less of yourself, or maybe he was just savoring the way your body reacted to him—either way, his eyes held a single intent: make you feel small. “For someone so eager to break my nose, you seem to love getting close enough to do it,” he taunted.

Your stomach twisted; he wasn’t just hungry for your skin—he was tearing at it, and you couldn’t help but feel infuriated. You hated being played with, especially by him. But Mattheo? He was enjoying this moment, enjoying how you kept his boredom at bay.

The way you were practically forced to look at him, how his body towered over you, and how you constantly challenged him—it thrilled him. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the hotness radiating off his body. It was maddening how he turned every interaction into a twisted game, and worse, how you always fell for it.

He was the only one who could ruin your good image, and you hated it. You hated that you found it exciting, and you despised how he made you crave these sick competitions for power more and more. You wanted to hurt him so badly that it almost burned your insides.

“I just want a clear shot,” you hissed, clutching what little dignity you had left. But Mattheo didn’t seem affected at all; in fact, he was just waiting for the chance to turn the tables once more. “So don’t flatter yourself, idiot.” He lowered his head slightly, challenging you, it seemed.

Mattheo chuckled dryly, and you felt his breath even closer to your face than before. “Funny, I don’t see you making a move,” he remarked, his gaze fixed on your clenched fists, satisfaction evident as he noticed how tightly you were gripping them. “Maybe you’re not as angry as you want me to think,” he whispered provocatively, his tongue sliding over his own lips as he did so.

You wanted to punch him; you wanted to see him lose so badly, and he could see it. He could see your facade falling, and he was eager to expose your darker side—the side that could put him in his place with just a word. He just needed one more push, one more slip, and he knew he could get it out of you.

He was almost there. Almost.

You closed your eyes for a moment, desperately trying to ignore the rapid beat of your heart, feeling as if you were teetering on the edge of a heart attack. Still, you managed to respond. “Or maybe I’m just debating which would be more satisfying—breaking your nose or shattering your ego.” You practically spat the words, logic having abandoned your body two minutes ago. You felt heavy, so heavy.

You just didn’t know that Mattheo’s heart was beating in sync with yours. Apreciating your unlogical comportment and the way his mind was getting a bit of logic because of you, because he knew, he knew that he wanted you, he knew that he needed to break you. He knew he could put him on lines, but him? He took pleasure in keeping you off balance, and he knew that you both craved the same thing; you just lacked the guts to admit it.

Unlucky for you, he was more than ready to push you to do it.

Mattheo lowered his head until his lips were barely a whisper away from yours, his breath warm and steady against your skin. For a fleeting second, you were almost thankful for the boldness that kept your chin raised. “Go on, try,” he murmured, his voice a dare that left your legs feeling dangerously uneven. “You’re welcome to try either.”

A flash of hesitation crossed your mind, but his gaze trapped you, daring you to make a move. The air between you felt stifling, the noise around you melting away under the weight of his words, and the tension sparkling between both of you. Your pulse pounded as his face lingered close to yours, his mouth barely an inch away, eyes flickering to your lips—close enough to make every nerve burn.

You could feel control slipping right through your fingers.

“What’s the matter?” He whispered, his voice low, rough with mockery, that insufferable smirk deepening in a way that practically begged you to knock it off his face. “Losing your nerve?”

And then you lost it—you lost it completely.

You didn’t answer him with words. Instead, your hands shot up to his neck, and you crashed your lips against his, pouring all your anger and frustration into the kiss. It was fierce, almost desperate, and somehow, it felt painfully right. Mattheo responded instantly, not even a little surprised, just the dark satisfaction of someone who’d been waiting for this.

He chuckled against your mouth, triumphant; you were exactly where he’d wanted you all along.

You could feel the way Mattheo's grip tightened, pulling you flush against him, his chest pressing into yours as the kiss deepened into something raw and almost primal. His hand held you firmly in place, no room to pull away, letting your tongue clash with his in a battle for dominance neither of you wanted to lose. It was pure hunger, teeth and tongues colliding, each of you refusing to back down.

Your bodies pressed together, as if you and him were desperate to merge into one, the intensity between you both fueling an insatiable hunger. It wasn't enough—nothing could satisfy the craving consuming both of you. You needed more, and so did he. Without a second thought, you sank your teeth into his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste flooded both of your mouths, sending a primal thrill through you both that made you gasp and moan with the flavor.

It was maddening.

Maybe that's why Mattheo craved kissing you and touching you—because it felt like suffocation, like drowning as your tongue slipped into his mouth, stealing the very air from his lungs. And he needed it more than he cared to admit. Mattheo loved how you made him lose and gain control at the same time, how you made him forget himself completely.

His life could be boring, even wild most of the times, but nothing made him feel more alive than when you were tearing him apart, lips and bodies pressed together, suffocating him with your poison in a way he could never resist—as if he were addicted to the pain of being ruined by you.

Mattheo couldn't take it anymore and kissed you again as the first one broke, his body pressing even harder against yours, your hips grinding against him, making him groan into your mouth.

The blood from the first bite only intensified his need for you, pushing him to the edge where he had to sink his teeth into your lower lip as well, taking another moan from you. He longed for the metallic tang lingering on your lips, desperate to mix with his as your tongues clashed again and again with an intensity that left both of you eager for more.

You wanted more; he needed to give him more.

You and Mattheo seemed oblivious to the fact that you were still at the party, too consumed by each other's lips and bodies to notice the pounding music or the crowded room around you, and compared to anyone else here, the two of you were on another level. After a few moments, Mattheo broke the kiss, lowering his mouth to your neck, biting and sucking at your skin with such hunger that you couldn't be sure who was enjoying it more.

“You smell so good, so damn good,” he whispered like a prayer against your skin, his tongue tracing over the mark he'd just left, almost like he was savoring it. His words jolted you, snapping you back to your senses as you glanced around, suddenly aware that you weren't alone. Reluctantly, you pushed his head back, biting back a groan as you felt the ache of stopping.

“Why did you push me?” Mattheo asked, his lips swollen and tempting like yours, and unlike you, he couldn't suppress the groan that escaped at the loss of contact. His hungry gaze locked onto yours. "Do you want to stop?" he asked, clearly waiting for you to say no.

“Not here.” You managed to say. “Let’s go to somewhere private.” You said quickly, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

Mattheo’s smirk widened with those words, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he seized your hand without warning, dragging you toward the dorms. You let out a soft, surprised whimper, but he didn’t pause, continuing walking and ignoring the stunned—and amused—looks from his friends. He barely glanced back, his grip firm and unyielding, as if nothing in the room mattered except getting you alone.

Neither of you noticed the dim hallways as you hurried along, too consumed by the need to be alone together. Neither of you registered when the music faded into the background or when his door creaked open and shut behind you. And neither of you realized when the clothes that once covered your bodies ended up scattered across the floor, tangled together just like the two of you.

You were both too lost in ecstasy.

Mattheo's hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch with excitement that was visible from miles away. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, leaving marks with each squeeze, and if you didn't know him, you might've thought it was unintentional. But the smirk pressed against your skin proved he knew exactly what he was doing—a knowledge that made you moan, and made him grip your ass even harder.

“I could bite you for hours, taste you for hours,” he purred against your skin, his nose brushing against you with a softness that contrasted sharply with his mouth, which was focused on marking your neck fiercely.

His teeth sank into your flesh, drawing blood as he savored the metallic taste, and each lick sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, blurring the lines between pain and ecstasy. “Your skin is so damn soft,” he murmured, the obsession in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

Mattheo squeezed your ass a little harder before pulling his hand away, leaving you moaning at the loss of contact and shooting him an angry glare. “What's wrong, love?” he smirked, his voice dripping with mockery as his lips stained a deep red from the blood you two had shared during the kiss and the blood he was still taking from you, curled into a cruel grin against your skin.

“You know what's wrong, don't stop touching me!” you snapped, frustration lacing your voice. The moment the words left your mouth, you let out a breathy moan as he clamped his teeth onto your skin again, this time a little harder in response to your defiant tone.

He chuckled slightly. “Don't be so fucking impatient, love.” He pressed soft kisses against your skin, purring against it. “I will touch you again...” he teased, and before you could respond, his hand possessively cupped your breast, a low moan escaping him as your hardened nipple pressed into his palm. You let out a satisfied sigh, your lips parting slightly, and Mattheo couldn't resist; almost instinctively, he pulled you in for another heated kiss.

As soon as his mouth met yours, you couldn't help but reciprocate his fervor with equal intensity. Mattheo squeezed your chest a little harder, forcing you to part your lips, and he wasted no time plunging his tongue into your mouth, flooding you with the metallic taste of blood that was almost tattooed on his tongue.

The sloppy and open mouthed kisses were enough to send shivers down both your bodies, and you were sure you had never been more wet than you were in that moment.

“Look at you.” Mattheo murmured as he broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your chin while guiding you to one of the beds in the dorm, his hands never leaving your chest, and his mouth staying on your skin, moving lower and lower. “You're just all talk, aren't you?” he purred, sitting down on the bed and pulling you onto his lap, your legs straddling him, as his lips moved down, almost grazing your hardened left nipple.

You flushed almost violently, but before you could respond, his mouth was on your breast, tongue flicking and teasing your nipple as he sucked, drawing a shiver from you that only widened his grin. His gaze fixated on the marks and faint traces of blood on your neck, an look of satisfaction in his eyes as his tongue continued its relentless, obscene play on your skin, savoring every reaction he wrung from you.

The bastard knew exactly how to use his tongue, and you could already feel yourself losing control.

One of his hands was now tangled softly in your hair, while the other still cupped your chest with a possessiveness that only Mattheo could make feel strangely delicate. It was a balance that would seem odd to anyone else—but not to him. His version of delicacy always came paired with roughness, and as much as you hated to admit it, you loved every bit of it.

"Are you ready to admit that you're just talking?" He murmured, his mouth still toying with your breast as you looked down at him, locked in a mix of pleasure and anger.

“Go to hell, Riddle,” you spat, anger lacing your words, only to moan as his teeth sank into your nipple.

“Oh, love, I'm already in hell.” He suckled your hardened nipple, lingering on the sensitive flesh before pulling away, his hand that had been tangled in your hair sliding down to your neck, giving it a teasing squeeze as he drew you closer, his lips brushing tantalizingly against your ear. “And I'm loving every second of it,” he whispered, sending a surge of heat through your body and making his grin widen even more.

Mattheo pushed you for another kiss, this time a softer one, leaning back against the bed and dragging you with him until the back of his head hit the headboard. In one swift motion, he bit your lip, breaking the kiss and abruptly flipping you onto your back, pressing you against his neck with a strength that made your eyes widen in surprise. You looked up at him, breathless, taking in the mix of dominance and desire radiating from him. You looked at him breathless.

“What—what are you doing?” you asked, your cheeks burning with the sudden action. You could feel his skin against your bare wetness.

Mattheo only grinned, feeling your pussy so close to him, and looked at you almost defiantly, but you were sure that you saw primal hunger in his gaze as he squeezed your thighs.

“You didn't want to break my nose?” Mattheo purred provocatively, a wicked smile curling his lips as he looked at the marks he made on your body. “Do it then.” He gripped your thighs tighter, his voice low and enticing. “Prove that you're not all talk, and sit on my face.” He said it without a shred of shame, and your eyes widened as you looked down at him.

Every inch of you was screaming at you to do it.

“Come on, love, are you scared?” he provoked, his mouth salivating with anticipation as he looked at your pussy nestled against his neck. Something in you snapped, and before you could even think about it, you positioned yourself over his face, sinking down and moaning at the sensation, feeling his grin against your wet cunt as he gripped your thighs even tighter.

“Just like that,” Mattheo murmured into your pussy, his tongue dancing and swirling in his mouth like a prelude to what he was about to do against your folds, and he couldn't help but let out a satisfied chuckle as he watched your impatient eyes.

You were already gasping, staring into Mattheo’s eyes with the same hunger and anger you had before, and he couldn’t help but feel a twisted satisfaction at that. He loved that you cared enough to be furious with him and relished the way you claimed his face as your throne.

For a brief moment, he craved you to break his nose, just so his blood could mingle with your pussy, marking you as his prey. That thought made Mattheo whisper inaudible words against your pussy like a prayer before he pressed your thighs against his cheeks and delivered the first lick.

Slow, painfully slow, almost like torture.

But as much as he craved to torture you, he couldn't, it was simply too much for him. The way your pleading eyes begged for more, the intoxicating scent of your arousal, and the initial taste of your cunt had him crazy. Without a second thought, he buried his face deeper into you, eating you out like a starved man desperate for his last taste of ecstasy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out, pushing his hair, which made him groan and moan against your folds. His tongue licked every inch of your core with fervor, ignoring any precision that could exist, too hungry to care. And you didn't mind how messy it got, not when he was licking and sucking your essence as if he wanted to drown in your wetness.

That was good—so good that you could already feel the tears streaming down your face. Your moans turned into screams as his muscle pushed deeper inside you. You were on the brink of breaking.

Mattheo didn't cared about that, though.

Since there was no technique or precision in the way he devoured you, there was only animalistic hunger and fervent hatred as his tongue flicked against your sex and his nose rubbed against your clit, leaving you so drunk with pleasure that the next thing to make you squeal was the feeling of his fingers massaging your thighs while his mouth sucked the spot where his nose had just been.

He wanted to be suffocated by you, to die between your legs consumed by your body, and that only fueled his obsession, driving him to push you further against him. He diverted his gaze from your cunt to your face, his stomach twisting with the precious sound of your moans.

“You look so pretty from here,” he moaned against your pussy, his eyes devouring every inch of you. You looked at him as your body started to weaken, and when you noticed the intensity in his dark brown eyes, you had to close yours quickly to escape his obsessive gaze. That only made him grip your legs even tighter, the veins in his arms bulging as he continued to suck on your clit, lost in your flavor.

“So fucking pretty,” Mattheo purred softly, almost hypnotized by the way your body reacted to him. He continued with fierce determination, his movements growing even more frenzied as his tongue and nose worked together to prolong your pleasure.

You were completely at his mercy, each wave of pleasure crashing over you more intensely than the last. He showed no signs of tiring, fully intent on pushing you to your limits, eager to watch you break over and over against his mouth.

He was utterly addicted to your taste, desperate for you to come into his mouth, determined to savor every last drop.

“Mattheo,” you choked out. “I can't—please, I need to cum!” You moaned repeatedly, your voice and legs trembling in sync.

“You can cum, love,” he said softly, his voice a stark contrast to the brutal way he feasted on you. “I will take it, I promise.” At his words, your body shattered as the first orgasm of the night swept over you, leaving you breathless, weak, and completely undone. But he didn't relent; instead, he buried his face deeper into your wetness, greedily lapping up every drop of your essence, driving you to scream even louder as you pressed into his face like a fucking masochist.

“I need another drop,” he murmured against your pussycat. “Just one, just one.” A lie. He didn't stop after the second drop. He didn't stop after the third, and each time he seemed to grow hungrier, as if he wanted to explode with your taste. But when your fourth orgasm hit, you couldn't take it anymore; you fell apart, collapsing beside him and dragging him down with you.

He had cum.

He came with your taste, and you had never felt more fulfilled, completely proud by the fact that you were the one who drove him to the edge without even touching him.

You looked at him, his chin still glistening with your essence, his chest rising and falling erratically, mirroring your own breath. But when your eyes met his, there was no hint of regret or shame—only a potent mix of hunger and satisfaction, as if he were on the verge of saying something else or maybe pushing your limits again.

“Next time, break my nose.” He said, putting your body against his almost like an embrace.

Next time. You nodded, that sounded like a plan.

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. 🫶🏻

this is my first one-shot about slytherin boys, so please be kind and respectful!

thanks for being my fav beta readers: @diiwata & @earth4angels ! love you both <3. also, thank you @nottsangel ! you were the first person i read regarding slytherin boys. thanks for putting me on to it! (my gallery is grateful as well) <3

#— ; 𝐳𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 🧳#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheo smut #slytherin #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo imagine #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x smut #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #mattheo x reader #dividers by cafekitsune

1K notes · View notes

gutsby · 9 months ago

Text

Hating Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Celebrating your dad’s birthday at the yacht club becomes damn near unbearable when Joel Miller brings a date along too. Jealousy and hate sex ensue.

Warnings: 18+. Food fight turned hatefuck (don’t ask). Cockwarming and semi-public sex on the bridge deck. Oral (m! and f!receiving). Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Age gap. C*mplay. Katoptronophilia. Orgasm denial. One risqué Viagra joke. Drinking games. Descriptions of vomiting. Joel cockwarming you while smoking a cigarette <3

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

"Can ya try that one more time, sweet pea? For daddy?"

You can. Try, anyway. Controlling your tongue while he’s buried so deep inside you is a far harder task than expected, though. Especially when he’s so still.

Joel sees it. Feeling a twinge of pity, he leans over your body and digs his hips even deeper—not thrusting, but still granting a modicum of friction as he takes another drag of his cigarette. The hot, heavy throb of his girth pulses like your own fucking heartbeat, and your eyes roll back.

An orangutan on roller skates would’ve had more grace.

A grizzly bear in hibernation might’ve been more lively.

A fucking cross-eyed octopus reciting Shakespeare would’ve been less strange, alarming, and painfully awkward to see than your father’s best friend the week after he’d railed you senseless in the front seat of his car.

Joel Miller had shown up with a date, for Christ’s sake.

Of course, you’d been three cocktails deep and playing stack cup with a random group of gentlemen on the bridge deck at the time, but that was almost immaterial. This was your dad’s fifty-first birthday party—one of the rowdiest nights the Austin Yacht Club had yet to see—and yeah, you planned on getting belligerently shitfaced on Dirty Shirleys and obscene amounts of catered food.

You’d never thought to bring a date of your own, though.

That was just distasteful and crass, all things considered.

Presently, you slammed your ping pong ball to the tabletop and watched it make a wide arc over your cup.

“Fuckfuckfuuuuuck,” you whispered low as the man four spots down made it in, and the man after him bounced the ball straight into his own on the first go. He moved the tall, swaying stack of red Solos immediately to your right, and you knew from the jump you were fucked.

Tommy Miller was a master at stack. You could already see the sly smile on his face from the corner of your eye.

Just as Mötley Crüe gave way to Hall & Oates on the speakers overhead, Joel’s brother crammed his stack of cups over your own and made a smug, triumphant bow.

“All you, kid,” he grinned and slid the second to last cup in your direction.

You could’ve cursed his whole bloodline, Joel included.

There was no way in hell you were getting stuck with death cup again—the last, cruel punishment for the loser of the game a mix of three different types of liquor, soda, and a spritz of Natty Light. Filled to the brim and waiting to be downed by whoever didn’t sink the final shot.

You squared your shoulders and locked the fuck in.

Bounced the ball once. Twice. Christ, this was hard. The man to your left was struggling too, but he seemed just as determined and twice as skilled, and you were pretty buzzed. A second later, he made it in and, of course, slid it right back to Tommy, who was practically overcome with laughter.

“MILLER! MILLER! MILLER!” Men were not creative when it came to chants. Or beating fists on furniture.

“Quit shakin’ the shit!” Tommy roared, tapping his ping pong ball deftly onto the table’s surface.

You blinked a few hazy, anxious thoughts out of your head and tried with everything in you not to miss this shot. The instrumental bridge of ‘Maneater’ was sinking its teeth in your soul and taunting your nerves to no end.

You took the ball, swallowed hard, watched the cup, and flicked your wrist, at last, from a singularly perfect angle.

The ball was a millisecond away from making it in.

Tommy Fuckstick Miller managed to stack you first.

A chorus of obnoxious, wholly drunk howls rang loud in your ears, and suddenly, the attention was back on you, the unhappy victim of the game’s most gruesome drink.

You didn’t hesitate. You pinched your nose and guzzled from the cup before the torment could go on any longer.

You did well at first.

Opened your throat like a pro and cleared it down to the last fourth of the drink, to the point where you could see the slick white bottom side of the cup clear as day.

Your mouth had just flooded with the final draught of death cup when a familiar guitar riff caught you off guard.

You weren’t sure why it had to happen that way, but after being forced to listen to the song some five thousand times on your road trip with Joel, the tenor of Billy Joel’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard to you now. Grating. Nauseating.

Vomit-inducing.

Swiftly, you ran to the nearest railing and lost your last drink—and your whole dinner—over the side of the boat.

You yakked into Lake Travis like you never had before.

And, just as that stupid, forever-tainted song surged on, you heard footsteps approaching. A moment’s pause. Then a hand on your back. Patting gently and, seconds later, lowering a cup of water to the side of your head.

Your face was still dangling upside down off the yacht. You didn’t want to be touched.

“Go to hell, Tommy,” you muttered.

“You first,” he said, chuckling.

You didn’t sit so much as slump back onto the deck with your head in your hands. The whole boat had gone sideways in your mind, and Tommy’s outstretched arm looked more like a bubbling lump than a friendly gesture.

You groaned at the sight of the cup and shook your head.

“I’m alright, okay. I’m good.”

Then, when the cup didn’t waver:

“Can they change the fucking song already?!”

Tommy cocked a brow and squatted down next to you. He set the water aside.

“Got a problem with dad rock or somethin’?” he smirked.

You shook your head no—it wasn’t the music that was making you sick but the man Tommy called his brother that made you wanna vomit again. The thought of that man tangled up with a svelte brunette who looked fresh off the cover of Sports Illustrated when he couldn’t even be bothered to shoot you a text after the condom broke last week. Like he just didn’t give a shit if you were alive, dead, or pregnant with his child. Unfortunately, you had nothing more to throw up, and your eyes were on fire.

Tommy slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. Took a handkerchief out of his pocket.

“No more Dirty Shirleys for you, young lady,” he chided, dabbing lightly at the tears that had trickled out.

“No more men for me,” you grumbled quietly.

You couldn’t see it then, but you could feel him trying not to smile. He tugged you closer.

“Boy trouble, huh?” he said, “Whose ass needs kickin’?”

Your brother, actually. Curb stomp that fucker, please.

You shrugged instead.

“Some guy from school.”

Tommy nodded, waiting for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, he just assumed you wanted to keep it to yourself—which you did—and squeezed your shoulder softly.

“Well…you know you’ve got your dad, me, and Joel to beat the shit outta any guy, any time, any place, right?”

You wished it were that simple. You wiped your nose and nodded all the same.

“And…” Tommy started again, working slow to get you back on your feet, “Most guys your age don’t know their ass from their fuckin’ elbow, honeybun. Don’t take it too personal if he’s dumb enough to lose a gem like you.”

The corners of your lips twitched slightly at his words. Almost smiling by the time he had you up on your feet.

“Thanks, Tommy.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

You might’ve rolled your eyes when he pinched your cheek, but the water he held back up for you to drink looked far too appetizing, and you knew he meant well. You took the cup from him and started to chug.

Again, you’d almost made it through the whole refreshment when a sound threw you off. Abruptly.

“Where have you two lovebirds been?!” Tommy chirped.

You lowered your water and almost regurgitated again. Bile jumped up in your throat, and you just narrowly managed to keep it all down with a cough and a sputter.

Joel and Ms. Centerfold were at the far end of the deck.

Joel was tucking his dress shirt back into his pants.

Are you fucking kidding me?

“Gettin’ nasty on her daddy’s yacht? That’s bold,” Tommy cackled, nudging you playfully.

Your face was bloodless. Every last ounce of pretense and decorum had spilled out with your dinner, before, and now you were just staring at Joel blankly. Numb.

You watched him shove the last clump of his shirt under the waistband and straighten up slightly. The woman at his side flashed you and Tommy a blinding white smile.

“Might say the same for you,” she called back. She seemed to be eyeing you both with a half-curious look.

Tommy made a face as if to say ‘yuck—what the fuck?’ and threw his arm around you again, shaking you lightly.

“She’s like my little sister, Ashton. You’re fuckin’ gross.”

Little sister. Nice. Like a knife twisting inside your gut.

If Joel took any notice of the comment, he didn’t show it. He just stood there, dull and impassive as a loaf of bread. Every coarse lineament of his face was unreadable—just as bleak, bland, and uncaring as the eyes staring out of it. Then he fished around in his back pocket and pulled out his lighter and a pack of American Spirits. He passed the latter to Ashton and leaned over to give her a light.

Throwing yourself off the boat seemed like the most logical next move out of anything available to you.

That’s when you knew you were off your shit and needed to leave the bridge deck—immediately.

“Need a drink,” you mumbled, starting off the other way.

Tommy was hot on your heels, following fast after you.

“That’s— that’s actually the last thing you need, I think, sweetie. How ‘bout some lemonade?”

“Can you spike it with bleach?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Tommy followed you down the staircase straight through to the galley, past the throngs and pockets of partygoers crowding the main dining area. Hitting the bar was a bad idea—wait staff knew you well enough to sense when you were utterly trashed, sad, or both—so you slipped toward the wine cooler and quickly sidestepped Tommy.

“No! No way. Nuh-uh.” He was still trying to block your access to the fridge when you grabbed hold of the door.

“Hair of the dog, Thomas.”

“That’s not a thing. That’s— you just projectile vomited off the deck, dude. You need a breather.”

You stopped just long enough to let Tommy pry you off the refrigerator handle and back to the kitchen island. You were pissed off, sure, but also not nearly prepared for another drop of alcohol if you were being honest with yourself. Your head was still spinning when you sat down on the counter.

Once you were settled, Tommy got to rifling through the cabinets, and you pressed a hand to your forehead.

“So how long’s that been going on?” You couldn’t help it.

“Wha- oh, Joel and Ash?” Tommy hummed from deep inside a cupboard. He came out with a small blue box.

You winced at the nickname. Watched him go from the pantry to the sink, fill a glass halfway, find a spoon, and tear the box in two, along with a couple chalky tablets.

“They’ve been…weird.” The sentence was punctuated with a pinch of his brow and a frown. He started stirring.

“Weird how?”

Your feet were dangling over the edge of the island; you pretended to gain a sudden interest in a smudge on the toe of your shoe.

“Weird like…I don’t know,” Tommy tossed the spoon in the sink and turned back to you. Holding out the cup, “They’ve been ‘friendly’ for years—Ash is a coworker of ours—and Joel swears it’s nothing more…but I dunno.”

He ended his speech again with that weird intonation and grimace, like he wasn’t so sure if he believed what he was saying himself, then shook his head and shrugged. He watched you take a sip of the Alka-Seltzer and urged you to get the whole thing down. It tasted like shit.

“Christ, that’s salty,” you coughed.

You didn’t want to keep going, but Tommy tipped the glass back in your hand and made you finish.

“It’ll help with your stomach,” he said before strolling over to the caterers’ fridge to look for bland food options.

“So if they’re not a thing, why’d he bring her here?”

You didn’t care what Tommy thought of your questions. He knew you were eager to hear the tea in any situation.

You watched as your friend procured a hand of bananas and some bread. He gave the fruit to you and took the bread over to the toaster, where he dropped in two slices. You couldn’t quite tell if he was contemplating an answer, didn’t want to spill, or hadn’t heard the question at all. He snagged a plate and a butter knife while you peeled apart your snack, silently dying to know the truth.

At length, Tommy shrugged. Again.

“‘Cause Joel’s a goddamn drama queen and doesn’t know what he wants, I s’pose,” he said.

Ain’t that the truth.

Then, after a minute:

“Had his panties in a wad ever since he went to Boston.”

You stiffened hearing that. You couldn’t pretend to be invested in your shoe scuff, the floor, or the food in your hand any longer. Your eyes flitted up to Tommy to see if his expression had shifted any.

It hadn’t—he was just looking for strawberry jam.

“You hitched a ride home with him then, didn’t you?” he asked casually.

You swallowed and nodded. You watched Tommy retrieve the two freshly-warmed pieces of toast that jumped up to greet him and, having found the jam he wanted, slapped them both on a plate and lathered them up. You muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ as he slid them over.

You were almost too scared to ask more questions, but you knew you had to find out. About Joel, Ashton, anything Tommy might’ve gleaned about your trip home from Boston. You found you could hardly sit in one place and had to step off the counter to eat your food.

“Joel’s been, uhh…how do Gen Z’s say it? Trippin’ balls?” Tommy reached for a banana himself and started in.

“Tweaking,” you corrected him.

“Tweakin’, yeah. Joel’s been a real fuckin’ tweaker lately.”

“In what way?”

“Just…shuttin’ himself in is all. Wouldn’t talk to me or your dad or anybody for days after he got back. Didn’t show up for our monthly Bingo matchup at Mando’s—and he hasn’t missed one of those in almost six years.”

You pursed your lips, equally mystified. You knew just how seriously your dad and his friends took those games—how rare it was for Joel to turn down any opportunity to drink, play Star Wars-themed Bingo, and shoot the shit with his buddies over Coors Light and cheese curds. You took another bite and waited for Tommy to continue.

“And there’s— there was this…thing he— I dunno.”

Suddenly, it seemed your friend had lost the power of coherent speech, and he was rubbing the back of his neck, flashing a half-sheepish smile, and shaking his head. Contemplating whether he should share something with you and ultimately deciding against it.

You raised both eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nah, it’s dumb, really.”

“Tell me.” You took a far-too-large bite of your banana and had some trouble getting it down.

“Well, he…” Tommy trailed off, shifting his gaze from yours to take a look at his own shoe, for a second, “When me and your dad were riding with Joel to a work site…we, uh…found a box of Plan B in his glove compartment.”

Half-chewed banana and toast almost flew across the room while you spluttered and choked and just barely managed to cover your mouth to keep it all in.

“Right? Threw me for a loop, too,” Tommy grinned as you beat your chest with a fist and fought to keep yourself breathing, “Your dad damn near had a baby when he picked that little box and those booty shorts up himself.”

When he what?! You wanted to scream, just picturing your straight-laced, conservative father flipping a Plan B box between his hands, in shock, and then…your shorts—when the fuck had you taken your shorts off again?

Right, when you were busy trying to scoop some more of Joel’s jizz from your cunt as he raced you both to CVS.

Good times.

You held your hair back and leaned over the sink, spitting two more chunks of banana and bread down the drain. Tommy reached around behind you for the spigot and filled another glass with water as he tried not to laugh.

“Easy, now,” he said, patting your back like he’d done for you before, “Joel didn’t happen to mention this lady friend to you now, did he?”

“No,” you choked. You wiped your mouth clear of any spit and food residue and slowly blinked down into the sink, feeling an old wave of nausea begin to settle over you. Accepted the new glass of water from Tommy and hoped he wouldn’t notice the tremor in your hand as you did.

The man seemed completely oblivious. Still standing close behind you, Tommy rubbed circles in your back and leaned a little closer.

“Death cup really got ya, huh?” He smirked, and you realized then that he very much was like an older brother. This whole situation with Joel was fucked on so many levels and would be fucked tenfold if Tommy ever found out.

You turned around and felt yourself steadied between two warm, broad palms—‘Wanna sit? Lie down?’—and then you were shaking your head, reaching for another banana and trying like hell to seem semi-composed, though every neuron in your brain was firing away at a million miles per second and your legs were feeling like scrambled eggs.

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah?”

Suddenly, one of Tommy’s hands had moved up to brush a few strands of hair from your face, and you felt your skin radiating raw heat. A deep-seated anxiety, too.

He’s going to find out—what if he already knows?

What if Joel tells Tommy?

What if Tommy tells dad?

Your mind was reeling, on fire, still working in earnest to find something to tell your friend to say you were fine, just dizzy, and definitely not fucking his big brother.

Your brain was drawing blank after blank after blank.

Just then, a clatter sounded nearby. Both of you jumped.

When you shot a look to the source of the intrusion, you nearly folded into Tommy from secondhand humiliation.

“Nice hands, feet,” the younger Miller called over to Joel, who was currently trying to recover the dozen-odd pots and pans he’d knocked over at the threshold of the room. You stared at the two in a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and disgust—the latter reserved exclusively for Joel.

You set your drink down, held your hand over your stomach, and pretended to head for the bathroom.

“Be right back,” you muttered, brushing past both men.

You knew you wouldn’t be back at all if you could help it.

Still clutching your banana in one hand and your raucously churning tummy in the other, you climbed the galley stairs fast to get back up to the bridge deck. You almost tripped over both your heels trying to make it up the steps so quick, desperate for solitude and quiet.

Another hair metal hit from the ‘80s was playing overhead, but fortunately, the deck was free of people. You stumbled over to one of the catering tables, looking helplessly for something that might settle your belly, but no, this sickness was coming straight from your head—from that insufferable munch of a man, Joel Miller.

You gingerly approached the railing behind the table and prepared yourself for another round of dry heaving.

You rested both elbows on the metal, looked out toward the dark, glassy water beneath you, then hung your head in abject defeat. You slid your tongue across the roof of your mouth and waited for the vomit to come.

The only thing that followed were footsteps.

Heavy, thunderous sounds making their way up the stairs.

“Stay back, Tommy. Please.” You raised a hand to the man approaching softly behind you, not turning your head, “That Alka-Seltzer stuff didn’t work for shit.”

“Shoulda stuck to water, sweet pea.”

That made you pivot.

Not a quick tilt of the head or a twist to the side, but a full-fledged 180-degree spin on your heels, hand to your gut, what-the-FUCK-are-you-doing-here turnaround.

You stared ahead and felt sicker than you had all night.

Then, pointing one crooked, accusatory finger his way without thinking, you hardly knew or heard what you were saying before the words came out. It sounded a little something like, “Joel, you goddamn fucking idiot.”

Joel didn’t flinch.

In fact, he seemed supremely unfazed.

He just held your fuming gaze and frowned.

“You tryin’ to fuck my little brother or somethin’?”

Your hand had closed around your banana on the table before his words had hung in the air for even a second. You flung the fruit full-force at his head, enraged.

Unfortunately, you were drunk and your aim was shit. Your yellow boomerang-like weapon of choice barely made it within three feet of its target before it glanced off a light fixture and struck the ground with a thud.

Accuracy be damned, you weren’t quite done.

“You left the fucking Plan B out for my dad to find?!”

Just when Joel tried to answer, or perhaps hurl another accusation in your direction, you stuck your hand in the closest catering tray you could find—a serving of green peas, as it was. You lobbed a handful at the man as he started to draw closer, and this time, you managed to land a pretty hefty spray. Joel only rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t leave it there—you did,” he retorted.

“My shorts, too?!”

You grabbed another fistful of peas and threw it. Joel was able to dodge it right before making it to the other end of the table. He gripped the edges of the wood in both hands and stood stern—imposingly—opposite you.

“Your shorts, your fuckin’ problem, sweets.”

Just when you reached for another green pea projectile, he surprised you and made for the tray right beside it.

Shortly, a glob of garlic mashed potatoes struck the front of your dress and slid slow, almost sluggishly down the pristine pink silk fabric before falling at your feet. Joel’s aim was evidently much better than yours.

You brushed what chunks of food you could get off your chest and pinned him with a wide, incredulous look.

“You’re a Grade A fucking asshole, you know that?”

“You’re a bit of a shithead too, potato tits.”

“FUCK you!”

“Already DID!”

You would’ve flipped the whole table if it were in your power to do so. Would’ve toppled all the tables, kicked the chairs, took a lighter to the curtains and sent the goddamned yacht down in flames if you had to—that was how much you despised the man in front of you.

Instead, you threw your hands up and stormed off.

“Maybe I will fuck Tommy!” you barked as you started toward the stairs, “I’ll fuck your brother’s brains out, and you can screw Ashton all you want, how ‘bout that?”

You’d made it about two feet before Joel grabbed hold of one of your wrists and yanked you back. You didn’t hesitate to throw a gruff—and ultimately fruitless—punch that hit him square in the chest. He didn’t budge.

“You don’t mean that,” Joel sneered. He shook your whole frame with one simple flick of his forearm.

“I’ll tap your whole bloodline like a keg, Miller. Try me.”

Again, you tried to shake him off, but the hand only constricted around you tighter. Then it was walking you backwards, slowly, almost carefully, until your back was to a wall and your eyes were searching his, angry as ever.

“You’d break your daddy’s heart with that one,” Joel said just above you, voice lowered considerably.

“Yeah?” you challenged, “Maybe if I was less of a shithead I would care what my dad thought. But I’m not. So I won’t.”

“Wasn’t talkin’ about your father, darlin’.”

Joel was good.

He was an insufferable ass and he was good.

Then you remembered the radio silence over the past seven days and the fact that he may or may not have fucked someone else earlier that night—possibly right where you were standing—and he lost all appeal real quick. You shoved him hard in the chest once more.

“Don’t play that shit with me. You, of all people—” You made as if to read him the riot act but cut yourself short, deciding it wasn’t worth your time explaining human empathy to a man who believed bootcut jeans and all things Ely Cattleman were peak fashion, and just learned what ovulation was last week. Then, sliding along the wall and trying to head to the stairs again, you felt Joel’s leg slot between your own.

“What did I do?” he said, curious.

Before you could answer, his thigh had stirred in place, grazing lightly over the spot the hem of your minidress had exposed to him. You ignored it.

“Doesn’t matter,” was your non-answer.

Joel seemed intrigued by the ambiguity and only lowered his head to get closer to yours—‘Then why’re ya so mad you’re throwin’ dinner food at me, darlin’?’—puffing warm breaths on your neck and only smiling when you flinched back. He took your response as a cue to keep pressing, both figuratively and physically.

“Just wanted attention or somethin’? That what it is?” Joel’s voice was as saccharine as it was taunting, words paired with a hand circling light across your thigh. He wasn’t moving in, and it was tearing you to shreds inside.

“Fuck your attention, and fuck you, Joel.”

Words hardly reflecting how you felt internally.

Swiftly, then, the hand at your leg was raised to your face—cupping it with a bit more force than you expected. Joel’s grin stretched even wider.

“Attention and discipline,” he mused aloud, “Two things dad never gave his little girl growin’ up, I see.”

Before you could reply, he was squeezing your face even tighter and nodding his head, as if already anticipating your answer. Then, somehow lower, “Such a filthy mouth on her, too. Never knows when to keep it shut and how to be polite to someone who fucked her so nice already.”

You might’ve whimpered if you didn’t also want to throat punch the motherfucker and knee him in the balls. When Joel started stroking your cheek, you groaned instead, and you hoped he would hear it as chagrin, not arousal.

“I can help with both of those, y’know—” His thumb rubbed a little harder, and his leg moved up. You pressed your hands flat to his thigh to keep him from teasing, but the man would do no such thing to oblige you. In fact, he just shifted his leg back and forth…and back, again. A ripple of bliss from the friction sparked low inside you.

“I can give you attention, and I can scrub that mouth clean if that’s what you really need,” Joel continued, “Just say the word, darlin’.”

“Fucker.” That was your word.

And it worked well enough for Joel.

In the next instant, he had you half-carried, half-dragged across the deck and thrown onto the table where you’d lost that dreaded game of stack. Solo cups still littering the surface, and puddles of beer soaking in through your dress, you made a sound of disgust and tried to thrust yourself up, just to fail. You squirmed and swatted at the man standing in front of you, who easily kept you pinned to the surface with one palm laid calmly on your belly.

He reached into the back pocket of his trousers and retrieved his lighter and cigarette pack.

“Someone could catch us,” you hissed, helpless, unsure of what else to say to show you weren’t giving in just yet.

Joel lit up in four seconds flat. He sucked in a breath.

“I roped off the stairs coming up,” he replied.

He what?

You moved back, slowly, on the surface when Joel worked a hand to his belt buckle, and you heard half a dozen plastic cups fall to the floor behind you.

You would not be his date’s sloppy seconds—ever.

Joel yanked at your thighs and pulled you back to be straddling his hips, shrugging his pants down; you couldn’t bear to keep looking when he lowered his briefs.

He took another drag and eyed you hungrily, happy to see you all sprawled out and pretty before him. The tight fabric of your dress had cinched over your hips and left you bare to just panties, making him grow even harder.

“Joel.”

He worked his dick out of his pants and moved the head to trail slow along the seam of your barely-clothed cunt. Even through the lace, he could feel how wet you were. He notched the tip at the space where your panties had parted just slightly to the side and felt your arousal pool even wetter around the end of his member. He grunted.

“Joel, I—”

“Daddy’s gonna give ya attention, sugar. Hold still.”

You couldn’t. Wouldn’t. You splayed your fingers over the hand that was trying to guide his cock into you and clenched your jaw—every carnal fibre in your being telling you not to do what you were about to try anyway.

“You fucked her didn’t you?”

Joel flicked the ash off his cigarette, “No.”

“You brought her here.”

“Had to.”

Your face was flushed and likewise flooded with smoke, curling slow from Joel’s lips before it painted the air an opaque, muddied grey above you. You wriggled your hips away from his, and for once, he didn’t try to stop you.

“I saw you tucking your shirt in. Tommy said you fucked!”

“Tommy’s about one fry short of a Happy Meal, honey,” Joel puffed once more, “He’s always sayin’ shit like that.”

Incredibly, he’d managed to use about a dozen funny words in that old Texas lilt and still say so little to actually answer your question. When the pinch in your brow told him you weren’t quite satisfied, Joel let out a sigh.

“Ash spilled pebre on my shirt. I had to change.”

Oh.

“And you—” you started.

“—have no fuckin’ right to know, one way or the other, because you’re the one who said we’d just ‘fuck and forget it,’ remember?” Joel interrupted, reminding you of your own curt words from your Bronco boning session.

Again, you tried to speak and found yourself spoken for, Joel carrying on as casual as ever as he sucked the last life-breath from his cig and stared you down, cynically.

“Your dad’s the one who made me bring her tonight. Said I seemed ‘down’ since the last gal I fucked wasn’t around—I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was his daughter—and here we are,” Joel smiled, wryly, and flicked his cigarette into the lake. You would’ve liked to tell him littering was a crime that trashed us all but refrained.

You were too busy staring at his lips, wondering why he hadn’t kissed you yet. You reckoned all the pea flinging, swearing, and swinging might’ve played a small part.

At length, Joel slid a new American Spirit out of its pack and wrangled you back to his hips as he lit up again.

“Happy?” he said, after a beat.

You weren’t sure whether to nod or cross your arms. Beckon him in with both hands or kick his bunched-up pants, belt, and boxer briefs away altogether and keep the bratty act going. You didn’t like being wrong.

At any rate, it didn’t matter. He’d called you on your bluff.

Still smoking, still smiling, still happy as a clam at high tide, Joel pressed his length straight up to your folds and watched you squirm on the wood underneath him.

“Gonna listen now?” he hummed.

“Uh-huh.”

Good, his wretchedly deep brown eyes seemed to say. Good that you were here, good that you were spread wide and supine beneath him, good that you’d gone all soft and pliable under his touch and were watching him now with a look that said you’d let him do just anything.

Good that he could fuck you.

Great that he wasn’t planning to—not fully, anyway.

Joel wasted no time taking your answer in the affirmative to slip past your panties and push deep inside your sweet cunt. When your walls stretched and cried all around him, he sighed and gripped your legs even tighter. He gritted the cigarette between his teeth and brought your ankles to rest over his shoulders, sinking in even deeper. Then he had to hold steady inside you and keep you flat on the table in front of him, and just when you whined to fuck me now, Joel, fuck me right now, daddy, please, he stilled. He took a big, long drag and didn’t move an inch.

He’d teach you some discipline one way or another.

“Joel, please,” you groaned again, hands bracing the table to start fucking up and down on his shaft, before he put a stop to that fast and held you firmly in place, “Please, Joel, I need you so fucking bad, daddy, please.”

Joel tapped his ash to the side and ignored your pleas.

He felt your walls contract around him and tried not to grunt. He focused instead on the smoke overhead.

“Wanna say that nicer?” he asked, deadpan. Then, staring expectantly down at you, while you flushed and struggled to stay still, “Keep that mouth a little cleaner?”

Fuck, did he have that father-figure tone down to a T.

You laid there before him and almost forgot his cock was wedged inside you for a second. He seemed so sincere.

“I wan— want you to move, daddy, I-I-I don’t know how else to say i— FUCK!” Your pussy spasmed around him when the tip of his pubic bone grazed your clit. That squeaky clean mouth of yours was nowhere to be seen.

“Mhmm,” Joel nodded anyway, pretending to be observing your behavior as he might for a clinical trial. Like he was testing a new drug, not his dick inside your cunt, practically clenching in Morse code around him.

“Can ya try that one more time, sweet pea? For daddy?”

You could. Try, anyway. Controlling your tongue while he was buried so deep inside you seemed to be a far harder task than you could’ve ever expected, though.

Joel sensed it. Feeling a twinge of pity, he leaned over your body and dug his hips even deeper—not thrusting, but still granting some modicum of friction. The hot, heavy throb of his girth pulsed inside you like your own fucking heartbeat, and your eyes rolled back.

“Fucking shitsucking DICK BITCH CUNT! FUCK!”

Sounding every bit the uncouth novice in a COD lobby chat circa 2009, you knew you didn’t have the faintest hope of earning Joel’s strokes now. You hated yourself for it—and Joel, too, for subjecting you to such cruel and unusual punishment for just needing to fuck him hard.

You were desperate and heated. Five seconds away from yanking your sex off of his and going to town with your own fingers, you felt a palm press down on your tummy.

Damn Joel and his super-sized hands.

You could barely breathe, much less pry yourself off.

Joel was quiet and calm. Stuffing you full and puffing away at his cigarette the whole time. He smirked.

“Ain’t that difficult, honey,” he said, hardly losing his will or his sympathy when you shot a raw glance his way, “Stay still on this cock and ask daddy nicely, ‘s’all ya gotta do.”

He could tell by the look in your eyes you couldn’t stand to play nice—but needed to cum. He watched you swallow your pride, soften your eyes just a bit, and when you felt you might implode from all the feeling, whined,

“Please make me feel good, daddy, please, I need it.”

Joel breathed and eased back just an inch, lowering his hand to thumb softly at your clit. You keened.

“That’s my sweet girl.”

Still just rubbing that bundle and looking down while you came unraveled, Joel thought you perfectly sublime. He’d kill to keep you there like that, eyes rolling and skin soaking the table beneath you both in sweat and arousal. He stared down at the place your bodies were connected—a sliver of his cock visible and soaked with your juices—and he felt a wave of desire crest over his mind. Panting, quietly, he brought one hand to your hip and kept the other working furiously over your clit, trying to ignore the urge to rut inside you. It was self-discipline for him, too.

He wouldn’t let you know that yet, though.

He crushed the cigarette between his teeth and kept still.

“Ya like that, sugar? Like daddy stuffed inside this pussy, makin’ ya beg real pretty for me?” His husky Southern drawl ran like molasses off his tongue, thicker now when he was balls-deep and half-drunk off your cunt.

You watched his mouth, intrigued, and saw a long line of spit drip deliciously from those pretty, stubbled lips of his to your lower ones, making the spot more filthy and warm as your fluids mixed together. Still, Joel didn’t move a thing more than his thumb—but the sounds from you both were growing louder and more desperate.

The gentle squelch of spit, sweat, and arousal running all down your pussy, paired with those noises you made when you were feeling this good and squeezing him tight, was enough to send Joel straight over the edge. Now he didn’t have the strokes or any motion to focus on before him, just you—he flicked his cigarette away the second he sensed you were getting close yourself.

“Sweet little thing,” he cooed, still rubbing in circles, “How’s my baby feelin’?”

You clawed at the table beneath you and knocked your head back once or twice on the wood, humming a quick, ‘Good, daddy, good’ in the most hoarse and pathetic voice you’d ever used, and Joel smiled. You hadn’t cursed out loud in a minute and seemed to be taking his touches well. He’d have to give you some form of reward.

Gently, Joel pulled back and made a shallow thrust inside you. Both your body and his jolted with pleasure.

“FU—n stuff, fun stuff,” you hissed, trying hard to mask the expletive.

In truth, Joel was struggling too. Just one stroke inside you and that coil inside him was about ready to burst.

“Fun, huh?” he teased, keeping his motions down to quick pistons as he laid his palms flat on either side of your head, “Daddy make ya feel fun-ny, does he?”

“Yeah, he does, he— ah, SHIT right there, right there!”

Evidently, he’d found your G spot.

Joel stilled inside you as soon as the foul word escaped.

You whined. Loud. Almost tempted to burst into tears.

“Nononono, that doesn’t count, Joel! That doesn’t—” Your voice was shortly supplanted by a whimper when the man went back to thumbing your clit, hips rendered still once more and cock wedged deep inside your core.

“What’s it gonna take to make you behave for me, huh? Do I have to talk to your daddy again?” Joel seethed.

You shook your head quick and felt him circle your clit even harder, more punishing now. Your body craved the friction from his cock but could barely contain the words that were coming out now. You pinched your eyes shut, feeling your orgasm creeping closer and closer, and whimpered gently, desperately, ‘Fuckfuckfuuuuuck.’

Whether it came down to making terrible plays at stack cup or getting your clit torn apart by Joel’s thumb, you simply could not keep the filthy language at bay.

You weren’t going to listen, that much was clear.

Joel had no choice but to make you learn a different way.

So, prying his fingers and his cock from your cunt, he reached across for your hips instead—pulling you off of the table and pushing you down to the floor, at his feet.

He smoothed a palm over the top of your head and fisted your hair in one hand, his cock in the other, and brought his hot, swollen, slick-coated length within an inch of your face, stroking fast.

Your gaze flitted from the sight in front of you to Joel’s eyes, back and forth, stunned and in utter disbelief. As you felt your own climax crumble and recede from you at once, the sound jumped up your throat before you could stop,

“What the FUCK is your problem, Joel?!”

“There it is,” Joel just flared his nostrils as he jerked himself above you, “There’s that nasty fuckin’ mouth.”

He pulled your head even rougher and tipped your chin back to meet the scowl on his face. Pleasure had almost swallowed the man whole, yet his expression scarcely betrayed a trace of it, eyes cold and jaw clenched tight.

“If that mouth can’t be good for me, can it open real wide and show me how a dirty slut does it?”

You were beside yourself. Holding his gaze like a bomb might go off in his brain any second—something you’d be happy to see—you scowled as well. Begrudgingly, and knowing Joel wouldn’t ease off of this punishment until he’d made you pay for your language, you nodded.

“What’s’at?” Joel snapped, stroking himself even faster, “What do ya want me to do, sugar?”

You gritted your teeth and silently wished they were crushing his balls to powder between them.

“Want…you…to cum…on my face.”

“Little louder, sweet pea, can’t hear ya from up here.”

The sound of his palm working over his cock again and again, shimmery and slick with your arousal soaking it, was almost too much to bear. You watched, forlorn and silently boiling with rage as Joel stared down at you, as merciless as he’d ever been. Mocking, almost, it seemed.

“Want you to…cum on me, please.”

“One more time, darlin’,” Joel pressed, pupils blown wide with desire, “Be real sweet and say it one more time f—”

“I WANT YOU TO CUM ON MY FACE, YOU FUCKER.”

That sparked the first real smile on Joel’s lips you’d seen in a while, and then he was watching you cockily, nodding.

Before you could even think to blink, stand up, or storm off again, you felt a fat, sticky-wet glob of warmth hit your cheek. Then another. Then another. Then another. You winced and flinched back, but Joel held your head in place, in front of his cock, and gripped you firmly as he unloaded rope after rope of his cum all over your face.

By the time he was finished, your skin was glistening. Coated in the stuff and still blinking through strings of the hot, sticky mess as Joel stood over you, chest heaving fast as he pumped himself through his release.

Must be fucking nice.

When the downpour had slowed to a trickle, two thick fingers swiped at a dollop of cum on your cheek. Then, wordlessly, they moved down to your mouth.

“Open,” Joel commanded.

You’d barely parted your lips a quarter of an inch when he pushed both digits inside. Swirled them around in your mouth and made sure to cover every soft, wet contour and crevice before pulling out with a pop.

He wiped at your other spend-streaked cheek and repeated the action, plunging his fingers in and out of your mouth to make sure you cleaned him thoroughly. This was more of an act meant to tease than anything else, you knew, almost demeaning in the way he stood there and nodded his head while murmuring, ‘’Atta girl.’

You hated how much you liked that stupid show of dominance—and, even worse, how good he tasted.

Joel brushed your tongue with another fingerful and watched you bob your head in time. He hummed his approval and scanned your face for any spend left over.

There was a lot. He paused, as if considering something.

“Drop ‘em.” Joel motioned to the straps of your dress.

You did as he said and pulled both bands down at once. When your breasts spilled out of the fabric, you watched Joel lower his gaze and, fixating on the spot you’d just exposed to him, take two—no, three—careful fingers to collect the remainder of himself and spread it downward.

Joel took his cum and smeared it all over your tits.

He was equal parts meticulous, gentle, and gratuitous in doing so, and he took pleasure in every second.

With a heavy-lidded, glossy gaze trained unwaveringly on your chest, Joel rolled each nipple between forefinger and thumb and fell into a trance. Rubbed you up and down every inch he could find and groaned at the sight. Glazing your skin all over with him and savoring it.

You couldn’t deny the feeling of being marked in a way so degrading, dirty, and adoring at once had a dizzying effect on you, too. The look in his eyes, and the soft brush of his fingers, almost quelled your rage entirely.

Almost.

When Joel pulled your spaghetti straps back into place—and you, in turn, back onto your feet—you yanked away. Forcefully. While Joel straightened up, silently cursed his bad back, tucked his dick in his pants, and started to reach for your waist, you jabbed the fastest, fattest, fuck-your-whole-family middle finger in his face and took off.

“Honey—”

“Don’t.”

“But I—”

“Have some goddamn fucking nerve.”

You’d nearly made it to the staircase again, heels turning to start down the first steps, when Joel sidestepped at lightning speed and blocked off your passage. All you saw then was the front of a starch white dress shirt and a light patch of chest hair peeking out from the highest button, crowding your vision, moving in time with every manoeuvre you tried to make around him. He smelled like sweat and fresh citrus. Perhaps a hint of vengeance.

You wouldn’t meet his gaze when he grabbed your face. Tried to shrug him off when he made as if to pull you into a hug—‘Are you off your shit?! Are you?! People are right downstairs’—and Joel just smiled. Grinned like a jackass eating briars, about five times too smug for his own good, and drew you into his chest by gentle turns.

You weren’t sure why you recoiled when he kissed you.

Hell, you’d done it a dozen times before—albeit a bit more frantically, in a way to say ‘I need to fuck you’ when words just wouldn’t suffice—but this one was different. Deeper. Joel was gripping both sides of your face and still grinning as he kissed you, feeling your muscles slacken some and your frame meld gently into his.

You hated it.

“I missed you,” Joel murmured between kisses.

Hated him.

“How’s my baby been, huh?”

Oh, you know, just waiting. Hating you a little. Hoping we didn’t inadvertently create a baby ourselves, courtesy of your prehistoric condoms.

“I missed you.” Gently. Again.

You tensed in his hold when his lips trailed down to your neck. You felt a low flutter. It was like your feet had been glued to the floor and your tongue left wholly immobile; you let Joel caress, kiss, and whisper down your skin like every cell beneath his touch wasn’t seething en masse.

Your stolen climax. Broken condom. Close call with your father and Tommy. Radio silence ongoing for days.

You couldn’t wrap your head around any of it, or him, or how grossly inconsistent the man’s every move upon you now seemed to be with the way he’d acted all week.

Joel slowly descended your body.

“Like I said, honey…you fuck with my head,” he said soft against your dress, then your legs, then the space in between them.

“Makes two of us,” you grumbled back.

You braced your weight against the railing over the stairs just behind you when he slipped your panties to the floor. Then he tucked them snug into one of his back pockets and brought his face to your wet, aching core.

“Discipline doesn’t come easy, does it?” It sounded like something trapped between a question and a declarative coming out from the side of Joel’s mouth.

Fortunately for you, he didn’t try to clarify which of the two he meant, or do much else at all except eat your pussy from that point on. He kissed your thighs, gripped them tighter, then wedged his face between them while you held fast to the metal behind you. You stifled a moan when his tongue traced over the seam of your cunt.

You didn’t have to like the man to love what his mouth could do for you, you silently reminded yourself.

Love it you could—and would. Without shame.

Granted, you were still sensitive as all hell from your last almost-orgasm of the night, but Joel knew how to work his lips and tongue around it. He swiftly lapped between your folds, teased a finger at your hole, and wrapped his warm lips around your clit to suck once or twice, and you were damn near ready to spiral in seconds. You fisted the soft salt-and-pepper hair at the top of his head and rutted your hips in short, shallow motions against him.

“Good girl,” Joel crooned, welcoming each thrust with another swirl of his tongue, “That’s my sweet baby.”

“Joel.”

You traded expletives for the simple repetition of his name, not wanting the pleasure to stop. Joel hummed and sucked and held your legs around him even tighter.

You sighed, almost whined, and dug your fingertips into his scalp, feeling your climax building quick inside you.

Joel’s mouth was working faster, sucking harder, drawing smaller and crueler circles, lapping eagerly against your arousal and giving it everything he had, it seemed, to work you up to your release. He grunted when you yanked hard on his hair but didn’t stop.

In fact, the bastard just kept trying to talk you through it, fluid movements of his own tongue and lips be damned.

“Doin’ so damn good for me, sweet pea, keep goin’.” There was an apology in there somewhere, working hard to atone for the orgasm he’d denied you right before.

Four more flicks of his tongue and a gentle endeavor to pump his fingers in and out, again and again, right above that soft, spongy pad of pleasure deep inside had you teetering over the edge of a cliff.

You tore your gaze from Joel for a second, preparing for that sweet and lusty consummation, when your head turned to the side just slightly. You almost groaned.

Your own hot, flushed, and fucked-out reflection was the first thing to greet you in a sliver of a mirror on the wall. Just beneath you, as you could’ve expected, there was Joel—kneeling between your legs with his chin tipped up, beard coated in moisture and pleasure and warmth. You weren’t sure why the sight from this angle had such a strong effect, but something about the full view of your bodies in motion gave your stomach a pinch. A burn. You ogled the glass and made a sound audibly higher in pitch than a whimper as Joel suckled and tongued at your clit.

You came just like that—gripping the rails, fisting his hair, rutting your hips, and staring implacably at that mirror.

When Joel resurfaced, you were still fully transfixed.

Gawking at how fucking nice he looked between your thighs. How filthy it all was to be seated on his face and cumming for his tongue while the rest of your father’s dinner party mingled blissfully unaware downstairs.

When you saw Joel rise, you jerked your head back.

You weren’t sure why it felt like being caught, but it did.

Just as you began to murmur some half-assed apology his way, you felt hands on your hips and a rock-hard bulge at your rear as Joel spun you round in front of him.

He shoved you flush against the mirror so your tits were pressed up to the glass. He gave you a quick once-over.

Slid the straps of your dress off your shoulders and shimmied the fabric down your chest, once again.

With your breasts splayed out in front of you and your hands pressing hard on the mirror—as if letting up the slightest bit might send you straight through it—you tried to crane your neck. You felt the sticky squelch of cum and fresh spit painted over your chest, muddying up the glass with every movement you made. Your chin dug deep in your shoulder as you cocked your head to the left, eyes searching for Joel’s behind you.

You heard the clink of a belt, followed by a rustle of fabric. Then a hand slamming close beside your head on the mirror, while another worked industriously to free his cock from the confines of his trousers once more.

“Joel,” you breathed, still tender from your climax.

“Hm?”

He was gruff as he rubbed and smacked your bare ass with his cock. Let it rest on the soft, fleshy shelf between you two and teased his length over that space.

“Did someone take his little blue pill today?” you teased.

“Fuck off.” You saw a flicker of a smirk in the mirror.

No way Joel Miller was getting a full-fledged erection twice in the same ten minute span. That shit didn’t happen outside the realm of porn flicks and a woman’s wildest fantasies when it came to men Joel’s age. He knew it just as well as you but tried to feign indifference when he pressed the head of himself to your folds. He did, however, suck in a breath at the new sensation.

He could do this.

He could cockwarm you raw, tonguefuck your cunt, ravage and render you all but brainless on the surface of that mirror, and still have the wits about himself to take another breath. He could show those shit-for-brains college boys he’d been battling for days in the depths of his mind how much better he could fuck you than them.

Really, Joel was just manifesting at this point.

He hadn’t busted a nut and fucked this quick since Bill Clinton had been in office. All hat and no cattle whatsoever for this pussywhipped cowboy.

“Better hope I go easy on ya, sugar.”

“Best believe I won’t.” You would’ve winked if you weren’t so bone-crushingly aroused and fresh off your peak.

Joel had just chuckled, more than a touch nervous, and began rubbing your warmth to coat himself in it—angling his slightly apprehensive penis up to your cunt when you straightened some. Rather than keep your tits to the mirror, you chose to press your back against him, ass snug to his front and eyes roaming wildly over the reflection of your two forms. Both of you flinched when the head of his cock hitched around your entrance.

Joel’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat just over your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to your skin.

“Gotta be the sweetest thing I ever seen,” he whispered into your ear. Meeting your gaze in the mirror and lifting his hips just so before breaching your folds.

He hoped you’d take it for sweetness and not just a vicious strain of anxiety or weakness as he prepared for the first thrust. He’d need a second, a minute—maybe a goddamned hour, if he was being real honest. You were too damn pretty to be fucked by a two-pump chump.

Joel nudged his nose against your ear and tried to stall. Pausing a beat.

“Never been humped and dumped before, yaknow.”

Wait—the fuck?

That came out wrong.

You cocked a brow and tilted your hips. You didn’t seem keen on talking but had no choice but to humor him.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” you hummed.

Joel balked at his own stupidity, trying, and failing, to remove his foot from his mouth and remedy his words.

“I mean, I— I get it,” he returned, too fast for his liking, “I’m no texter myself, I just…thought, uh, maybe—”

“Miller. Spit it out.”

Your body was all but leaking arousal before him and the man was trying to divert the conversation to…phones?

Joel winced.

Felt his member deflate with embarrassment just a bit.

NO! No. No. Just…fuck. Stay hard. Please, stay hard.

He’d done it to himself. Tried to hamper sex for a second too long just to give his dick a fighting chance at survival and ended up mucking things up supremely. Per usual.

“You never texted me back.” He sounded blunt now. Rushed.

Joel watched you raise both eyebrows.

“Texted you back?” you scoffed.

“Yeah…texted, called, snipchatted, whatever.”

Your face didn’t change despite the glaring Gen X error.

“You never texted me, Joel!”

What?

Suddenly, the dick wedged between your legs and hovering over your cunt seemed to be the last thing either of you could be bothered to worry about.

“I’ve…been texting you all week. Called a few times too.”

“Like hell you have. You ghosted me and went off the grid this whole fuckin’ week—Tommy said so, too.”

Joel cringed again to hear his brother’s name brought up in this context and shook his head. You were wrong.

“512-867-5309. Been trying to talk to you all goddamn week, see how you were, and you never responded,” he said, indignation creeping into his tone against his will.

At last, your expression dropped.

From furious to frowning to just fucking annoyed. Your lips were drawn tight in a line across your face.

“My number is 512-867-5305, dipshit.”

“Huh?”

“5 at the end, not a 9.”

“…No.”

“Yeah…”

Shit.

Joel Miller had made his fair share of flubs in his life, but fucking up the phone number of his best friend’s daughter whose pussy he’d accidentally cum inside the week before seemed almost criminal. Too fucking asinine and rookie-level dense to ever recover from. He blinked.

“Thought you…hated my fuckin’ guts,” he confessed.

You threw your hands up in disbelief, frustration. Fury.

“I do— believe me, I do,” you snapped, “But not for that.”

‘That’ meaning the last time you two bumped uglies. Joel wasn’t sure whether to take heart or step back.

“What’s’at mean?” he asked.

You pushed your feet a little further apart on the floor and pressed back into Joel. He took that as a decidedly good sign and reached for your hip. Then took his cock, again, which had invariably twitched and swelled up at the smallest motion from you.

“Means we’ve got plenty of reasons to hate each other, but fuckin’ ain’t one of ‘em,” you shrugged, angling your ass in the perfect place for penetration. Joel was just about back to full-mast and buzzing as you spoke, “I can get over the whole…old dude taboo—you being dad’s friend and all—I just couldn't stand the thought of you leaving me in the lurch when shit got weird at the end.”

‘Weird’ meaning risky. Virulent. Damn near catastrophic if it ever came to be that one of Joel's swimmers had latched onto one of your eggs and knocked you up. The fear of pregnancy, and every bloodcurdling, awkward conversation to ensue, had been amplified tenfold by the thought that Joel didn't even care one way or the other and couldn't be bothered to text, call, or otherwise show that he didn't totally regret what you'd done in his car. You could handle a clean break, but leaving it on such uncertain terms had been torture. At length, you sighed.

Joel was nosing behind your ear now, a bit less tense.

A little more laid-back and warm this time around, as he, like you, had gotten to exhale a breath of relief realizing that neither of you had deliberately tried to fuck the other over, or ghost, just yet. You'd been pissed at him all night, and he'd been busy barraging a perfect stranger somewhere in Austin with strings of texts and calls all week, but the two of you were ultimately OK. For now.

“But you still hate me, huh?” Joel spoke low against your skin and felt you soften just a little.

You nodded, careful not to slacken too much.

“Mhmm.”

Now Joel was almost glad to have taken that brief, heated detour, because his dick had made a complete comeback and was aching to tease you some more. He grabbed the base of his length and slotted it slow as ever between your folds. Rolled his hips forward and pushed you both a little closer to the mirror. One of your hands flew up to steady yourself, and Joel’s hand followed. He laid his palm over the back of yours and pressed in.

“It’d be a real shame if you do,” he said, smirking as he notched the tip of his cock just within the tight ring of muscles at the groove of your cunt, “For a second there I was starting to think you might’ve liked fucking me, too.”

In the next second, Joel was easing inside you. Feeling you arch into the motion and grabbing hold wherever he could across your front, he pulled you into his chest and felt a streak of coarse pleasure lick up the full length of his spine. Your walls were squeezing him in a brand new way, a novel position, and he was starting to fear there wasn't any place he could fuck you that wouldn't send him veering for release within his first two strokes inside.

He bucked his hips a little something like an amateur, he thought, getting used to taking you like this. You were moaning, holding his fingers between your own atop the mirror as you squeezed your pussy tight around his cock, and he hoped that meant you hadn't minded the few stuttered, desperate strokes he'd delivered at first.

“I love…fucking you, Joel,” you seethed at last.

Then, wordless as it was pointed, finding his gaze in your reflection, ‘I still hate you, Miller. There’s a difference.’

He slammed into your ass and quickly got the sense that you liked it this fast—loving, lusting, or despising him otherwise. Almost needed it a bit frantic and rapid-fire when he was fucking you from the back, he reckoned.

Joel looked you in the eye from his view behind you in the mirror and saw it clear as day. He almost grinned.

You were wildly fucked out and in need of quick release.

For once in his life, he could oblige you on that, easy.

He slid his cock in and out, rutting much quicker than he ever thought you’d want it, and he grunted. Slipped a hand between your thighs and felt you pulse around him, involuntarily, when his fingers found your clit. He could tell by that grip, and those febrile little whimpers, that you were loving this just as much as him and probably were as close, if not closer, to a new, shuddering climax.

Joel plunged deep inside your cunt and drew you closer.

Taking your throat in one hand, he nudged your body into the glass and smirked, drunk with the feel of you.

“Ya like it when I fill this pussy, huh? Love feeling me deep inside this needy little hole?” he murmured, slow and taking care to draw out the syllables in each word.

You nodded that you did. Rocked your hips back to meet his thrusts and moaned.

“I love it, daddy,” you managed weakly, “Love it so much.”

The fingers at your clit increased in speed, and Joel rutted into you even harder, relishing the soft squelch between your bodies as he moved. Then he reached for a fistful of your hair and, instead of pulling back like he might normally have done, he pushed in. He pressed your face in the mirror, turned to the side, and pistoned his hips even faster. Felt your moans spill out across the glass and mix with his own, and he couldn’t help but let a raw, primal impulse take over his thrusts—and tongue.

“You make the prettiest fuckin’ noises, y’know that?” Joel breathed, hunched over and close to your ear.

Before you could so much as acknowledge his praises, bob your head, or moan in response, he shifted the hand in your hair again. This time turning your face toward the mirror, he brought your lips within inches of the glass and made you watch him fuck you, again and again.

You trailed your gaze over your full reflection and almost whined out loud, ripe with desire and ready to cum just seeing how good he looked as he took you from behind.

With his brow furrowed, pupils blown, hair a fucking mess, lips parting slightly with the strain of every grunt and moan, and hips rolling repeatedly, furiously into your own, Joel looked about as handsome as you thought you’d ever seen him. You felt the soft nudge of his tummy behind you, the tightened grip on your hip and in your hair, and within seconds, you were nearly there.

“My pretty. fuckin’. girl—” Joel managed through gritted teeth, each word punctuated with a thrust, “—and her pretty. fuckin’. moans.” Then, bringing his beaming, sweaty expression right next to yours in the mirror, “Ready to cum for me, pretty girl?”

You curled your toes into the floor and nodded, slotting your fingers through his own when he planted a hand above you again,

“So— so close, daddy.”

Joel squeezed your fingers back. Kept your faces damn near side-by-side in the mirror and relished the marked change in your features when he grazed that spot inside. You let out the filthiest, fuckdrunk moan and didn’t need another stroke—you came around his cock with a tight, pulsing spasm, seizing his hand, rocking your hips back into his hard as the pleasure washed over your body.

Joel’s cock absorbed every last delicate throb, hot and heavy enough to send the man spiraling himself. He braced his front tight against your body and kept fucking you through your release, groaning a vicious, desperate bout when he felt that deep-seated urge to spill his seed.

Fuck. He’d have to pull out. Now.

Just as his own climax was close at hand—close as he could ever, or should ever feel it while still inside you—Joel reached down for your hip to pull out and cum all over your ass, but he was brought to a stop. Swiftly.

To his surprise, it was you pulling off of him—sliding off his cock and dropping to your knees as if to take him in your mouth.

Thank fuck.

Joel grabbed his dick as quick as he possibly could and moved to start stroking himself over your face, when your hand closed around his own. Stopping him. Again.

You grinned.

Feeling the slightest twinge of retributive pleasure at seeing him like this, just like he’d had you, your smile stretched even bigger. Joel could’ve wept at the sight.

You brought your lips to his cock and grazed it, barely.

“Wanna try something fun?”

He knew better than to let a moan slip at a time like this.

Not when he was sitting at the dinner table; not when he was surrounded by the people he knew and loved the most. Not when he was celebrating his best friend’s fifty-first birthday, and certainly not when that man’s daughter was currently perched between his thighs, out of sight from every eye at the party but his.

Joel lifted the tablecloth. He almost came on the spot.

This was your idea of ‘fun.’

Payback by any other name would’ve smelled as sweet.

Seeing your mouth open wide and your lips curled tight around his hot, throbbing member, Joel couldn’t help but ache for reprieve, or else a split-second lapse of judgment—one where he forgot all sense of decorum and simply went to town on that pretty little face of yours. But, as it was, the rest of the party was totally oblivious to your absence, and he didn’t want to draw attention to it, or him, by roughfucking your mouth.

That would come later.

No, now he would let you glide your mouth gently over his shaft, leaving trails of thick spit and hints of a shiny pink lip gloss in its wake. He’d let you bob your head softly—self-assured in a pace you got to set—and he wouldn’t lay a finger on your face or let a thrust of his get in the way, because this was all about you giving him the pleasure. Maybe making him squirm just a little, too.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t steal a glimpse every now and then and pin you with an expectant look when he wanted something done his way. The room was dimly lit and everyone in it drunk; Joel would gladly take the risk.

‘You can go deeper than that, sweet pea.’

‘Nope, three-fourths ain’t enough, I need your mouth around me whole.’

‘You did wanna make daddy feel good, didn’t ya, sugar?’

He didn’t have to speak a word of it out loud for you to know what he meant. What he needed. You loosened your jaw and stretched your lips even wider, whining just a little when the head of his cock grazed your tonsils.

“Fuck that feels nice,” Joel said aloud.

You froze.

Then, without missing a beat, you heard him continue just as comfortably, speaking to the people around him,

“Y’all feel that breeze comin’ in?”

Sick fuck. You continued to suck him anyway.

One hand braced tight against Joel’s leg and the other moved shamelessly between your own, and you tried not to moan, but the sound escaped anyway. No one heard it, but Joel felt it reverberate down his shaft, and he gripped his glass of Merlot like a vice. Your dad shot him a curious look from across the table but said nothing.

“Can’t get enough’a her, huh?” Tommy grinned beside him.

“What?” Joel faltered. Set his drink aside carefully.

Down below, you dragged your mouth just far enough to take his tip between your lips and suckle. Joel grunted.

“The wine,” Tommy said, still smiling, “You must love it.”

Joel let out another strangled breath that he tried to pass off as a chuckle and nodded.

“Got me on my fuckin’ knees,” he admitted.

And that was the truth. Starved for air and blinking through tears as you knelt down to blow him, it was still you with the chokehold on Joel, and both of you knew it.

Try as you might to convince yourselves otherwise, the man was enrapt. Too spellbound to turn down your offer of sucking him dry under the dinner table just minutes after he’d almost cum all over your face, Joel was in it, and he was in it deep. It was just that small matter of you being his best friend’s daughter that made him loath to admit it. At any rate, he had your tongue licking strips up his cock and felt a sudden, sharp clench in his stomach.

He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Neither would you.

Joel couldn’t see it then, but you’d practically soaked your own hand from how hard you’d been rubbing your clit—ignoring his orders not to touch yourself there—so turned on from just sucking his dick and needing to feel relief while you selflessly, secretly pleased him beneath the table. While Joel reached for another draught of wine, you brought one hand to his balls and kept the other at your cunt, triple-tasking like the efficient little slut he needed you to be: sucking, cupping, and rubbing all at once to get the two of you off in one minute or less.

You guided him down to the furthest place in your throat, then pushed him even deeper. You gagged just slightly and felt a hand reach down for your cheek. A thumb began to rub at the tears welled up at the corners of your eyes.

‘Sweet thing hasn’t felt a man this deep before, huh? Wanna swallow some more?’

You nodded that you did. Couldn’t actually hear him now, or see much else besides the soft tufts of hair on his belly, but you could feel a light, heady warmth seep into your brain.

You rutted your hips and just hoped no one dropped a fork nearby. Bucked desperately into your hand and felt the heat start to swell to a whole new feeling, and suddenly you were whimpering, whining on Joel’s cock from under the shade of the table and cumming all over your fingers.

Joel returned a quick smile from your father and cracked a joke about the Super Bowl. Raised his hips just the slightest bit and wiped one of your tear-soaked cheeks.

‘Almost there, hon, keep that throat open for daddy.’

All you could do was cry and try your best. Wild feelings from both the slow, deep facefuck he was giving you and the flurry of euphoric aftershocks coursing all throughout your body made it almost impossible to bear, but you obeyed your sweet and strong and steady-handed Joel and sensed a blossoming desire crop up for something else.

You wanted to taste him as he blew his load in your mouth, flooded your tongue with his spend, and painted every inch of your insides with that hot, sticky stuff.

You needed him whole.

Your Joel.

In tune with your thoughts—or perhaps just overcome with a need to see you before he reached his peak—Joel raised the tablecloth the slightest bit when Tommy wasn’t looking. His gaze locked on yours, and his tongue darted quick between his lips. He cocked a brow. Brushed his thumb again and looked down as if to say,

‘Ya want this, darlin’? Want all of me?’

You gave a soft nod, and that was all he needed.

No sooner had you given him the green light than his cum went pulsing out in ropes, coating your throat and eventually your whole mouth as you held still and took it all.

There was so much more than you thought. So much of Joel that had been waiting to give your mouth a proper fucking glaze that once he’d started he just couldn’t stop. Above the table, your dad shot a pointed look in his direction—‘You good, man?’—and it took every ounce of strength in Joel’s body to grit his teeth tight and nod.

He’d filled so much of your mouth it was spilling out.

You tried to hold steady, keep your movements extra slow. You’d heard your dad’s voice and just knew there’d be a lot more on the line than Joel’s dribbling seed if either one of you fucked up now. Your breath caught in your chest, and you felt too afraid to even swallow.

“I just…came,” Joel started, and your head almost cracked on the wood surface from how abruptly you flinched back,

“—to the realization—”

“—that you…are so…motherfuckin’ old, my friend.”

Your father’s laugh was the first you heard, followed by Tommy, his friends, and a dozen other party guests.

The next thing you felt, to your complete and utter shock, was Joel’s cock brushing your cheek. Then your lips. Then your tongue. He slid his still-hard member through the ‘o’ your mouth had made in awe and started to move in gentle motions back and forth, like a man all but aching to get a feel for your wet, sodden walls.

A man who couldn’t risk a glimpse now, but wanted more than anything to see the mouth he’d just filled.

Your father’s words hadn’t even cooled in the air.

Joel Miller, you sneaky, freaky fuck.

As the laughter subsided, and Tommy scooted back in his chair to take leave of your table, you felt a spark ignite. Whether it was yours or Joel’s or both your perverted minds suddenly alight and insane with the same thought, you couldn’t be sure, but you could make out the sound of a tablecloth flipping back up above you.

Joel slipped his dick out of your mouth and grinned. Took a firm hold of your face under the table so his fingers were coaxing your jaw to unhinge before him.

It was the lowest, slowest, menacing sort of sound you’d ever heard from him before, but it was his all the same.

Speaking to you now, softly, “Show daddy, darlin’.”

You thought you might like to see him that way forever.

Eyes honey-soft and glazed, thumb toying at your lip. Chest heaving up and down in time to your own breaths and growing ragged as you opened your mouth to him. He was sated and somehow unfulfilled—a bottomless pit of raw prurience as he stared down and held your gaze. Hair tousled, pants unbuckled, cock resting comfortably against your cheek, the man looked wonderfully undone and half in love with your sweet face peering up at him.

You couldn’t deny you loved doing this, too.

You’d just wished he saw Tommy before Tommy saw you.

#C*MPLAY IS BACK IN A BIG WAY #IT NEVER LEFT #joel miller smearing it on YOUR FACE????? IN THIS ECONOMY???#i would never shut up #i already never shut up but especially then #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel

4K notes · View notes

sincerelybubbles · 2 months ago

Note

ok shy bau reader and the team finally managed to get her to come a rossi dinner party so she can meet the rest of the team families that she hasn’t met yet, maybe after her first date with hitch and the team realized quickly she softened very fast with the kids and jack and her just seemed to click really fast and jack had her talking more than any of the team has so far… hotch is star eyes

hotch x shy!bau!reader \\ Dinner and Delights

Warnings: brief mention/allusions to Christianity. Otherwise, fluff! More insight into what Aaron is thinking :) I got very carried away, I hope you enjoy <3

"Woah hot stuff, where are you going so fast?" Morgan intercepts you with an arm around your shoulder as you attempt to slip out of the BAU unnoticed. "Hopefully to get ready for our big dinner plans?"

It's not that you don't want to go to one of Rossi's famous dinner parties, you're just afraid that your sub-par social skills would be noticeable by tenfold in a more casual environment.

At work, you can hide your quietness by talking about the psychology of the unsub, your specialty as a licensed psychologist. You can pretend you're not hiding in your shell when the team is all laughing and talking about personal lives by quietly listening while pretending to read your maps and journals. You can observe them and spend time with them, because you do truly love them all at this point, without feeling bad that you prefer to listen over talk.

And that's really it - you prefer to listen to them. You would say you've all but warmed up to all of them. You like Morgan's teasing, Emily's stories, Reid's rambling, Rossi's sarcasm, and Hotch's...

Everything, but the thought snaps you back to the present before you can dwell on memories of a sweet date in a dark restaurant.

"Of course," you succeed, nodding and sending him a tight-lipped smile.

"Hey," he slows you down and stops in the hallway, turning you to face him gently before lifting his hands in a placating gesture as if you were an animal he expects to run. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with but I promise none of us are trying to lead our little lamb to slaughter. We know you're quiet," the admission embarrasses you and makes you feel guilty pleasant that he sounds so gentle about it, "and nobody minds, I think it's cute and I think the rest are just happy our other genius isn't as vocal as Reid."

Your nose scrunches at the small dig and you open your mouth to protest at putting Reid down to lift you up.

"And look at that! Another thing we all love - you're quiet but won't let anyone say anything about the other behind their back. You're a good person, we all just want to spend some less-intense time with you. So, go home and doll yourself up, and get ready to see Hotch wine tipsy. We all know that's your main motivator." Morgan winks at you and moves quickly down the hall and away from you, laughing, before you can protest.

He's not wrong, though, and you shake your head as you move toward the elevator.

You end up on Rossi's doorstep, choking the neck of a bottle of expensive wine between two sweaty palms. Your heart is in your throat, nerves humming in anticipation.

Your team cares about you. Nobody expects you to be anything you're not. Gentle affirmations meant to soothe over your skin in gently lapping waves erupt into steam; like water hitting lava rock. You're too tense, too worried about not saying enough or too much; saying the wrong thing or saying the right thing only once and never living up to the expectation of repeated occurrences.

"Hey," Emily says from behind you. You turn to see her jogging up to stand beside you, brushing off her pants and adjusting her jacket. "You brought wine!" She cheers happily, reaching past you to turn the nob and open the door.

She gestures you inside, making no comment about your obvious hesitance. With her by your side, your nerves are calmed. Aside from Aaron, she's the easiest for you to be around. You don't feel any expectations with Emily. She doesn't talk too much or too little, doesn't push, doesn't ever send a pitying look when you opt out of activities outside of work.

"Château Lafite," you say to her, lifting the wine and shaking it gently in the air as you walk inside.

"Oh! Fancy wine."

"Wine?" Rossi asks, rounding a corner. He's dressed slightly more casually in a soft sweater and jeans, drying his hands off with a pristine dish towel. "The more the merrier, bring it in here."

You follow his gesture back into the kitchen, leaving Emily to go to what you presume is the living or dining area.

"Where did you find this?" Rossi asks, taking the wine from you to examine it and letting out a low whistle as he appreciates it.

"Just my local winery," you say, neglecting to admit that you go there often enough that the owner leaves the nicer stuff behind the counter for you.

Lonely nights crave wine, twisting them into lovely things you can appreciate. You enjoy your own company after years of quietly observing others. You've learned how to observe yourself, too, after all of these years.

And, even though you don't quite realize it, the self-awareness carries like confidence. That's what Aaron sees in you: observant eyes darting across a room and noticing everything, understanding flickering before anyone else catches a cue, deft movements across the paper while taking notes, and swift motions always with a purpose.

It's what he sees now, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans while he leans in the doorway of Rossi's kitchen, watching you. How could he not? You're a lovely creature, always begging for his eyes to settle on you for another second, and then another.

He knows the moment you realize he's in the room, minutes before Rossi. You stand straighter, tilt your chin lower, and are aware far before you tilt your head to the side to send him a soft smile. He returns it before Rossi can catch him. It's a warmth he wants to reserve for you.

"Dave," he interrupts the other man's monologuing about the wine he's sure you already know all about, "Jack would like to know if he and Spencer can use your chess set when he gets here?"

"Of course, I'll get it from my study." Rossi leaves, passing you the wine and gesturing to the opener.

Aaron steps in before you can start the process of opening the wine. He doesn't quite know why, but he wants to do it for you. He finds himself wanting that more and more recently: to do simple tasks for the sole purpose of you not having to do them. Opening doors and pulling out chairs are simple gestures that he did with Hayley, but he wants to do sillier, smaller, things, too. Straighten the pens on your desk back into their cup, reorganize the files on your desktop, untangle the wires of the headphones he really should reprimand you for using at your desk, open a damn bottle of wine he can't pronounce the name of but that he heard you say so gently to Emily as you walked in.

"Jack's here?" You ask, handing him the wine and crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter to watch him work.

He relishes how your eyes focus on his arms, pupils dilating, as his muscles work under his thin henley.

"Yes, I have him this weekend and he likes to spend time with Reid and Garcia."

He has to step closer to reach above you to get the wine glasses. He could ask you to step aside, tuck his hand against your waist to move you himself, or simply walk into the next room to grab the glasses sitting on the table. But, instead, he tucks one foot in between yours, puts one hand on the back of your head to guard it from the cabinet, and opens it to find the nicer crystal there.

Your breath hitches across his neck and he remembers the chaste kisses he's given you before. Nothing serious, nothing has been yet because he's waiting for you to lead him into that, but tantalizing nonetheless. He steps back to pour the wine, standing closer to you than he started.

A little for you, passed gently, and then a little for him. Dave could pour his own glass.

You take the wine and sip it slowly, tongue darting out to taste before you sip. He's reminded of communion as a child. The blood of christ, sacred, something to be tasted but not meant to satiate. Reverence in a sip, devotion in a small act.

He wants to give you the same thing. The desire hits him in the sternum, suddenly, leaving him winded as he watches you lower the glass. Your eyes are locked on his, you haven't seemed as hesitant about holding his gaze recently - something that makes him melt - and he wonders if you can feel how he wants to take care of you. How he wants to show you the same force that water uses to carve canyons. Persistence and pressure, time and care. He's willing to take his time, he's filled with the same patience as everything all together in nature. He's a rabbit perched on its hind legs, sniffing the wind for safety before darting forward; the bird hung in flight between beats of wings, the whisper of wind carrying small seeds miles away to wait and watch the growth. Wait, wait, wait, however long it takes, he's there. For you.

It's a strong feeling to fully realize in David Rossi's kitchen, but he's grateful for it, anyway.

"It's good," you comment softly, eyes smiling.

"Is it?" He asks, setting his glass down and retaking his spot nearer to you. He misses your warmth. "Can I?" He asks, brushing his fingers across your jugular before cupping your cheek.

"Taste the wine?" You tease, eyes flickering to his glass. The gentle jest pulls a chuckle from his chest. Another thing you've become more comfortable doing around him. His blood and bones sing at how familiar you can be with him.

"Yes," he says in a breath, dipping his head down to brush his lips against yours.

And you're reciprocating - you've always reciprocated, enthusiastically, just never in the pressing way you are now. You set down your own glass to hold his arms in both of your hands. Fingers dig into his arm as you sigh and open your mouth, new lands to explore, tilting your head back to grant him full access.

"Daddy?" Jack asks and Aaron pulls away, a man parched and staring at an oasis in the middle of a desert, before Jack can round the corner. He doesn't go far, though, hand traveling down to the small of your back as he turns.

"Jack?" Aaron replies, waiting for him to come around the corner.

"Hello," Jack says, stopping in the doorway and looking up at you with wide eyes.

You've met him a few times before, always in passing, but you still smile warmly and wave at him.

"Hi, Jack."

"Do you know how to play chess?" Jacks asks. Aaron smiles at the eagerness on his son's face.

"Yes, I do. Would you like to play?"

"Yes please!" Jack jumps forward to grab your hand, pulling you into the living room before you can react.

You go easily, though, following him with a gentle laugh that warms the coldest parts of him. Pieces of him he doesn't think have seen the light in years brighten at the sound. He's heard you laugh before but something about the sight of you laughing because of Jack illuminates needs that he didn't even know he had. Needs you're meeting before he can feel the yawning desire of them.

He follows, unable to resist the desire to see you two interact over and over again. You're setting up the board, listening to Jack chatter on, nodding intently.

1K notes · View notes

f1fantasys · 3 months ago

Note

Lando, you and some other friends are spending the weekend with hiking and camping. But being the clumsy one you kinda slipped and hurt yourself. Lando offer to help you to go back to the tent and you just innocently ask him to massage your feet. At first it’s just an innocent act and Lando purely wants to help as a friend. Until you accidentally moan and it turns him on and the massage is not so innocent anymore. He then promise you it’s just a tip but well… all men do is a lie 😜

TIP-SY

Warnings - explicit smut 😇

Note - this pic has made me FERAL.

F1 summer break meant a parade of different experiences and getaways. As a presenter for Sky, you were quite close to some of the drivers. Lando, in particular, was one of your favorites, though he doesn't know that. You wouldn't say you were close to him, but you'd now been on a fair share of getaways with him and other mutual friends, and it was safe to say that there was an ever-growing sexual tension between he two of you.

The tension met new heights when you went on a ski-trip in Finland last winter break. You'd often catch each other staring at one-another for far too long, share lingering touches, and dance closely with wandering hands while partying, flirting shamelessly through the days and nights. Your mutual friends always teased you both about when you would finally jump each other - anyone could see the pull that gravitated you towards each other, so it was just a matter of time until the line was crossed.

Right now, you both together with Max and P and Arthur and Jade were out at a secluded resort, camping and hiking for 5 days.

Of course since the other two pairs were couples, it meant you and Lando had to share a tent. Probably the push you needed to be honest, so you weren't complaining one bit because god, you wanted him in ways that would be sinful to say out loud.

You'd arrived this morning and had set out for a hike straight away. Thanks to the gods above, you were clumsy. You were walking in front of Lando when you missed a stone and tripped over it, hurting your ankle while doing so.

''Fuck y/n'' he said, rushing to help you up. ''You okay?'' he asked, but his worry faded away when he saw you chuckling to yourself.

''Yeah good, just little miss clumsy, tripped over a fucking tiny stone'' you said, taking his hand to help you stand up.

You thought you were ok, and even managed to walk another 5 minutes until you decided that you were actually not okay, and wanted to head back to the camp.

Lando, being ever the gentleman, literally hoisted you up and threw you over his shoulder to take you back.

''Lan!'' you shrieked, but you gave you no room for argument. Instead, being a cheeky bugger, he playfully smacked your ass before resuming homage on your thighs for the walk back. You were thankful you were facing the opposite direction, so he couldn't see the blush forming on your face.

Once you got back to the tent he gently placed you on your bed.

''Relax. Gonna get us some water and find you an ice pack. Need anything else?'' he asked.

'''I'm good. Thank you Lan, really for bringing me back'' you sincerely told him, your hand lingering with his for longer than it should have before you pulled away and he walked out of the tent.

''Fuck'' you thought to yourself. You were definitely in too deep.

Lando returned not 10 minutes later with a handful of snacks and drinks.

''Lando did you buy the whole supermarket?'' you asked teasingly.

''Oi, I wont share if you tease me like that!'' he said, dropping everything on your bed and smiling at you.

You wanted nothing more than to pull him in for a desperate kiss but you held yourself back.

''So there were no ice packs but I did find this ointment, says to massage it in gently'' he said, sitting down and lifting your feet onto his lap, taking you by surprise.

''Oh you don't have to, I'll do it'' you said, already sitting up and moving your legs out of his hold but his strong hands stopped you from breaking free.

''You're not saying no to a free foot massage, are you?'' he asked. ''One time offer, by the way'' he finished, winking at you.

It wasn't worth arguing further, so you stuck your tongue out at him and said ''fine,'' relaxing back again.

His touch was gently but it felt oh so heavenly, and without realizing it you let out an involuntary moan as you felt the pleasure rip through your body.

He chuckled, though he didn't find it funny one bit. His mind was racing as to what other noises you would make and if they'd sound as good as you just did.

''Feel good?'' he asked.

''Hmm yeah, never better'' you said, eyes closed and smiling.

Lando couldn't get your noise out of his head, and he felt his dick growing harder with each second that past.

A few minutes later you moaned again, and that was his breaking point.

''Y/n'' he said, in warning.

Your breath hitched as he said you name. You cleared your throat and mumbled an apology.

You looked down at him and took a deep breath in. His eyes were shades darker than they were before and he was looking at you with such an intensity.

''Lan'' you cooed, not sure what you wanted him to say or do.

He gently placed your feet back down on the bed and hovered above you, putting all his weight on his hands instead of your body.

Your eyes stayed glued to one another's until he finally stooped low and captured your lips in a swift movement.

You instantly bought your hands to his face, cupping it as he lowered his body so you could finally feel him.

The kiss was messy and desperate, spit already running down both of your chins'.

You moaned again and he pulled back only to whisper ''you don't know what that fucking does to me y/n,'' before he leaned down again and quickly slid his tongue into your mouth, exploring it.

You pulled at his curls which had his moaning in return, smiling through the kiss.

His lips left yours and moved down to your neck, very quickly finding your sweet spot where his bit and sucked at it then soothed it with his tongue.

''Lan'' you said, begging him for more.

''I know babygirl'' he said, his hand snaking down and slipping past your leggings to your core - which was dripping wet by now.

He pulled his head up to look at you again. ''So fucking wet. For me, yeah?'' he asked.

''For you'' you whimpered as your felt him slide his fingers through your folds.

He found your clit and immediately assaulted it bu pinching at pulling at it. By now your moans were obscene, the feeling of his hand down there stimulating to your core.

''More, Lan'' you begged again, biting down on your lower lip before pulling his face back to yours so you could kiss him again.

With ease, he slid two fingers through your entrance at once. Your back arched off the bed and your nails dug into his biceps.

You whimpered again as he set a quick pace, thrusting in and out of you and curling his digits at just the right time to tap the spongy spot inside of you.

''So tight, fuck you're gonna feel amazing around me'' he whispered, adding a third finger to the mix.

You couldn't help but moan at the thought of finally fucking him, but you needed to calm yourself down before getting ahead.

His lips were back on your neck now and you leaned to the side to give him better access, lightly biting at his biceps.

He sped up his pace and you soon felt the all too familiar heat pooling in your stomach.

''I'm close'' you coxed out, breathing increasing.

''Do it'' he mumbled. ''Let it out.''

Lando made his thumb brush against your clit with each thrust and in no time you were releasing all over his fingers, moaning his name through gritted teeth, squeezing your eyes shut.

You panted through your breaths, expecting him to slow down and ride you through your orgasm but if anything, he sped up even more.

''I know you have more in you, come in, y/n'' he said, hiding his head in the crook of your neck and nibbling on your ear.

Your breath hitched again. ''Lan'' was all you were able to get out, and not two minutes later you were gushing all over his fingers again, your throbbing pussy clenching around them which had him moaning with you.

''Fuck'' you let out a breath as he slowed his fingers and pulled them out of you.

He pulled back, looking at you again and took his digits into his own mouth, sucking him clean and moaning at the taste of you.

''My new favorite flavor'' he said, smirking, before kissing you again.

He pulled back for a second to remove you t-shirt, ridding is as well before returning his lips to yours.

Your hands explored his muscle-clad body, internally moaning at how hot he was - physically and mentally.

His hands also roamed your body, stopping at your boobs and giving them a few squeezes before sliding them under your bra and pinching at your nipples.

The action had your back arching, digging your nails into his skin.

Your mind was racing at 1000 miles per hour, trying to catch up to what was happening. A feel of joy and euphoria overwhelming you.

Lando took your bra off completely and you didn't miss the way he licked his lips when he looked at them.

He roughly took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked and bit at it, earning breathless moans from you as you pulled on his hair, edging him on.

''Fuck, yes, please'' you moaned.

''So fucking perfect angel'' he whispered, rolling your other nipple between his fingers.

He continued his onslaught for a while until you started ti grow impatient. You pussy was desperate, clenching around nothing.

''Lando please'' you begged him. He quickly notes that he loved it when you begged him.

He finally sat back on his knees and looked at you, though the expression you had on your face was not one he was expecting to see.

You weren't looking back at him with lust and desperation, instead you looked confused and constricted.

Rewind - just as you had begged him for more, your mind caught up to what was happening and something clicked. You liked Lando, too much, and you didn't want just a quick fuck.

''Baby?'' he asked.

''Lan, ugh, fuck. I like you too much for just a one time fuck'' you said, slightly shy at your confession and use of words.

His eyes grew wide and he couldn't help but chuckle a sarcastic one.

''You seriously think I want just a fuck from you? Really y/n?'' he questioned.

''I-I'' you started but he cut you off.

''You're fucking blind if you think I don't like you and want to be with you for something real. Fuck y/n you're the most amazing person, and yes i want to fuck you senseless right now, but i want to fuck you senseless everyday, and after that I want to clean you up and cuddle with you and fall asleep with you, and wake up with you!''

Words had left your brain by now so instead you just pulled him down for a feverish, passionate kiss. ''I want all that too'' you said between pecks at his lips the both of you smiling.

Just as Lando was about to pull your leggings down again you stopped him, again.

He pulled back and gave you a questioning look.

''Lan fuck we can't do it now like this, in a tent in the middle of nowhere!'' you blurted out.

''You're joking, right?'' he asked, unable to keep a smile a bay.

You tried to keep a stern face but failed miserably as he ignored you and took your leggings off.

''I'm serious! We can't have our first fuck like this''

Lando groaned. ''Ugh, ok, how about this - just the tip''

''Huh?'' you asked.

''I just let my tip enter you, for now, until your 'content' with the perfect date'' he reasoned.

You took a few seconds to think. You were so desperate for him, but at the same time you were so desperate for everything to be perfect, so maybe him inserting just his tip was a win-win.

''Okay fine'' you said, palming him through his shorts.

His own breath hitched as you pulled down his shorts and freed his aching dick.

You'd always suspected he'd be big. But not this big. You were speechless, thinking how the hell he was gonna fit in you. It stood tall and angry, begging for attention, with precum already dripping out the slit at the top.

''Easy,'' he said, seeing you thinking at a million miles per hour. ''I'll take care of you'' he whispered.

You nodded you head and he settled above you again. He slid his cock through your wet folds numerous times, often stopping at the clit to push against it, as he kissed you for the hundredth time today.

''Please, need you'' you mumbled.

And finally, he entered you. Just feeling his tip was a sore enough stretch, but it felt fucking amazing.

He slid out and pushed in again, hands on your hips to hold you still while your nails were digging into his neck muscles.

''Fuck baby, so tight'' he said, breath faltering each each movement.

''Lan you're so fucking big, feels so good'' you managed to mumble, pulling his lips down to yours for a feverish kiss.

A few thrust later, Lando's eyes turned shades darker. ''Y/n, i need you you. All of you, please'' he begged.

You knew what he meant because you wanted him just as much, and just as you started saying ''Ye-'' yes to him, he bottomed out, thrusting his whole dick into you.

You had no time to react, your breath getting caught into your throat as he was fucking into to at a relentless pace.

''Shit, how are you so fucking tight y/n, feels so good'' you said through gritted teeth.

''Hmm Lando. Fuck. Please. Harder. Give me more'' you begged him again, the pleasure fully taking over the pain and every time you shut your eyes you swear you could see stars.

His face was close to yours, breath mingling with yours and as he tightened his grip on your waist, surely leaving bruises for tomorrow, while you wrapped your legs around him as tight as you could, nails now stretching at his back.

You weren't surprised to already feel the warmth in your stomach building up. ''Lan I'm close'' you warned as he bought his fingers to toy with your clit.

The noises in the tent were obscene, and if anyone were to walk past they'd surely hear both of your pornographic moans and slick bodies slamming each other.

''Let it out'' he said breathlessly, lips violently sucking on your nipples as you pulled on his hair as hard as you could.

In no time you body was shaking underneath him, your juices gushing all over his dick and dripping out of you.

'Fuck me, Lando'' you moaned his name over and over again, praising him.

He didn't slow his movements, instead he quickened his pace further, chasing his own orgasm now as you felt his dick start to twitch and his movements become careless.

''So proud of you, taking me so well. Fucking waited for this day for too long. Not gonna get you go now y/n, you're too fucking amazing'' he said through grunts and moans.

hearing him say that tipped you over the edge again, violently releasing around him again. You let out a series of moans and closed your eyes, rolling them to the back of your head.

''Gonna cum, where do you want it?'' he asked, though you were too fucked out to say anything back.

''Y/n, tell me. Fuck I can't hold on anymore'' he all but shouted through gritted teeth.

''Ug, fuck, in me. Cum in me, please'' you finally said.

He bit down on your shoulder as you felt him shoot sheets of warm cum to paint your walls, his body shuddering above yours, now praising your name.

Finally he slowed his movements and settled still, still inside of you. You wrapped your arms around his back and held him as tight as you could as he settled his weight on you.

You both tried to catch your breaths, unable to move or say anything but just content to be in each others' arms.

Lando's head was nestled in your hair while yours was just in the perfect position to leave kisses on his shoulder.

He finally pulled his head up after some time and gave you a sheepish smile. He looked handsome as ever, and his curls were stuck to his forehead with a thin sheet of sweat that was dripped down his neck.

You couldn't help but lean up and lick the sweat that was dripping off.

Lando moaned again/ ''Úgh y/n, you're incredible. That was amazing'' he cooed, pecking your nose and looking back at you.

You decided you had to tease him a bit. ''You said 'just the tip!' what happened to that?'' you asked, chuckling so he'd know you were only playing him.

He raised a brow. ''How can i not give you a good fuck when you're here looking all pretty and making the best sounds from your mouth?'' he questioned back causing you to blush.

''Ugh, okay but you still owe me a romantic dinner'' you replied.

''Deal. You're mine now'' he said, kissing you again.

A/N - this was sooo much fun to write! Please send more requests!!

These pics though 😮‍💨

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 #lando norris #f1 fic #lando x reader #lando norris smut #lando smut

1K notes · View notes