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mermaidgirl30 · 4 months

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✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 2: The First Taste✨

Club owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 1

A/N: It is finally here! Sorry that has taken so long to get updated, but this turned out exactly how I wanted it to. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me organize my mood board and for letting me chat your ear off about this series! 🩷

Chapter Summary: You decide to go back to Club Inferno, back to those smoldering brown eyes. Turns out you do want more pleasure from Joel, the club owner.

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Word Count: 11.7k

Chapter Tags: Oral (M/F receiving), fingering, dirty talk, pining, flirting, some fluff, pleasure dom! Joel, reader has doubts, reader has hair, no use of y/n, pleasure dom! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You spend the next few days at work in a deep haze, your mind completely muddled at the thought of those smoldering dark eyes that haunt your dreams night after night. You can’t concentrate on reorganizing books, can’t focus on your own co-workers as they meander around the library keeping busy while you stand leaning up against a wooden bookshelf doing nothing but looking at the business card Joel gave you.

You mindlessly turn the flashy card over and over in your palm, memorizing his phone number, etching his name into your mind as you read his name over and over and over again until the silhouette of his towering body is burned into your brain. You didn’t call, didn’t text him like you should have done after he made you cum on his thigh. God, you want to though. But is it a good idea? Probably not.

As you shift the paper card around your fingers, you think of those lust blown eyes, that rugged panting noise he made when he was breathing hard against the shell of your ear, the way those thick fingers felt inside you, the way he called you a good girl and whispered how fucking good you tasted.

You slip the card back into the pocket of your jeans and lean your head back against some hardback books in the science section. You huff out and put a hand to your sweating forehead as you fight not to get all worked up again, but it doesn’t work. You’re already wet from thinking about him, so you decide you will see him again. Friday. You’ll go back to the club Friday.

You want more, need more. And so you’ll have him. Friday.

Your dress flows to the middle of your thighs, the sparkly midnight blue material shimmering under the dim lights of the club as soon as you walk through the front doors of Club Inferno. The bar is crowded, people scattered all around as loud music blares through the speakers. The dance floor is packed, bodies spinning under the crystal lights of the disco ball. Your heart gallops in your chest, your mouth dry as you hope he’s here. Please be here, please be here.

You turn toward the lit up bar that’s packed with alcohol lining the back mirrored wall and notice something is different, off. You scan your eyes around and try to decipher what’s changed as you take in the aesthetics of the night club. You peel your eyes over the atmosphere carefully, and you stop in place when you notice it. There’s not just heated red signs around the back walls anymore. There’s now pink ones too, glittering under the dim lights as you furrow your eyebrows up. When did they add the pink signs? Your eyes grow wide at the realization. You mentioned pink signs and how there was too much red last time. He must’ve listened to you…

The pretty blonde bartender snaps you out of your deep thoughts as she gets your attention. “Need a drink, hun?” she asks as she sets two big glasses of beer in front of two gentlemen in suits in front of you.

“Oh, no. Thanks. I was just wondering if Joel was around?” you ask nervously as you look shamefully at her. Hopefully she doesn’t see your cheeks heating up or notice how sweaty your palms are at your sides.

She nods her head behind you and smiles as she says, “He’s actually right behind you.”

You look up at the mirrored wall behind the stacked alcohol bottles and gasp when you see a pair of dark eyes flash in your reflection. You quickly turn around and nearly fall over when you see how handsome he looks tonight. A red button-up collared shirt , sleeves rolled up to the elbows to expose tanned skin with corded veins spiraling down his forearms, clean pressed jeans, and slicked back curls that are threaded with grey. He’s so… gorgeous.

His eyes flick over your body as he rakes a hand slowly through his salt-and-pepper scruff, analyzing your dress, your legs, your eyes. You’re nearly out of breath as he glances your way. “Didn’t think I was gonna hear from you again,” he smiles as he walks up in front of you and stops right where you can smell his woodsy cologne and whiskey scent. He smells so enticing, you could practically swim in the scent if you wanted to.

You shrug and let a sigh out. “Couldn’t keep me away, I guess.”

“Mmm, guess not.” His honey colored eyes trail over your skin again as he smirks and nods toward the bar. “You want a drink?”

“Okay,” you say quietly as he leads you over to some empty black barstools. You know what a drink will lead to, and it makes your skin simmer with lightning running through your veins.

Joel gets the blonde’s attention, and she saunters over and smiles brightly over at him. “What’ll it be, Joel?”

“Glass of whiskey on the rocks and a Malibu tonic?” His eyebrow arches as he looks over at you, needing approval before he sends her off. You just nod and watch as he gives her the go ahead, letting the smooth bar top rub against your fingertips as you view him turn slowly in his barstool, bumping his knee lightly against yours.

“You remembered my drink of choice?” you ask with raised brows.

“Thought I’d forget, hmm?” He leans forward as he puts his weight into his elbow, resting his hand on his cheek as it trails over his greying scruff. You can’t believe you’re sitting here with him again, almost in the same position you were in last weekend. It’s almost too much. His broadness, his height, the way he’s staring at you.

You adjust in your seat, pulling down the fabric of your dress as you clear your throat. “I dunno. Just kind of hard to believe you’d remember something as simple as that about me.”

He assesses you, watching you carefully as his dark eyes flick over your nervous form. “Drinks are simple, easy to remember. It’s you that’s hard to forget. Your face, your eyes, your scent.”

Your eyes grow wide, suffocating on your own breath as the pounding music flits through your ears, your skin forming goosebumps along your inner thighs as those dark eyes gaze into yours, his full attention on you. “My… scent?” you ask all wide-eyed with your mouth slightly agape.

“Mhm. I could smell that pretty waft of vanilla when you were standing by the bar. Almost like I was breathing you in,” he murmurs, his voice all low and gruff as his thick fingers tap against the glossy bar top, his eyes melding into yours like he wants to devour you.

You can feel that thick tension like smoke filling the room, hot embers filing your nostrils as you fight to compose yourself. You lean forward just a bit, enough to brush your knee against his smooth denim, stirring something low that you can’t quite stop.

Before he can lean in, the bartender comes back with your drinks, breaking the tension that was just close enough to drown in. “Enjoy!” She smiles as she leaves to attend to other guests.

You take the straw in your hand, twirling it around the sloshing alcohol and then take a sip, letting the fruity taste wash away your growing arousal between your thighs.

Joel surprises you as he asks a personal question, maybe something to break the tension as he looks up from his amber glass of whiskey. “So, what do you do for work?”

You knit your eyebrows together and swallow another mouthful of the fruity liquid as you eye him suspiciously. He wants to know where you work? Interesting. “I work at the library. Austin Central Library. I’m a librarian.”

He smiles gently your way, eyes all glistening as flecks of dark brown irises crinkle up at you. It’s a softer smile, not the menacing smirk he usually gives you. This one is different. “Should’ve guessed. A book lover who’s also smart? Figures,” he chuckles as he takes a generous gulp of his whiskey. “Say I come in there one day. Would you assist me in helpin’ me find some books? Maybe some classics? Books that maybe others don’t check out as often?”

He raises a brow at you, a glint in his beautiful honey eyes as you laugh and play nervously with the bendy straw that sits in your almost untouched drink. “I mean, I would. Seems like you already know your way around though,” you smirk.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Yeah, reckon I do.”

A loose curl falls over his eye, a strand that looks so soft to the touch. You almost push it back, so close while your hovering hand sits above your tan thigh, almost pushing the limits into other dangerous territory.

You clear your head of the ridiculous notion and push yourself back, watching as he moves the curl away himself. That was a close one.

You tap your long nails on the side of your glass and try your luck. “I was surprised to learn you were the owner of this club.”

He smirks your way and laughs. “Yeah?”

“You do this often? Pick up pretty girls at work and take them back to the dark hallway?” Your eyes narrow while he just shakes his head and laughs.

“No, can’t say that I do. You just caught my attention. I jus’ had to talk to you, at least. You were just so… stunning. Couldn’t pass you up.”

Oh.

Your cheeks burn hot, crimson tinging the skin as you take another large gulp of your alcoholic beverage. You need to calm down. He’s just a guy. He’s probably like the rest of them, but something deep down tells you he’s not.

“How long have you been in the business?” you ask as you swirl the straw around the melting ice cubes.

“A few years. My brother, Tommy, joined the business with me. We still do contracting together on the side, but this is my main gig.”

Contracting? He was a contractor? Fuck, can he get any hotter?

“Contractor, huh?” you ask curiously as your eyes light up with interest.

“That’s right. I like buildin’ things, makin’ things with my hands. It’s sort of relaxin’ to me. The way I can jus’ put together somethin’, imagine anything I want and jus’ build it from scratch. It’s probably my favorite hobby, honestly.”

You find yourself hovering over the clean bar top, leaning against your elbow as you find yourself dreamily gazing at him. You gawk at his crooked smile, stare at the indented dimple in his left cheek as you get lost in his words, in his lively expressions. His low voice is so melodious that you think you could listen to him talk about his hobbies all night long. Maybe even over dinner, at his house, curled up in his lap…

You shake yourself out of your hypnotic daze and smooth your dress out. You shouldn’t get close to anyone. Not after your ex, not after that horrible, horrific…

“Hey, you good?” Joel asks, stirring you out of your hazy thoughts.

“What?” you ask confused as you come back to reality.

“You jus’ looked a little lost there for a second. You alright?” His voice is gentle, deep, and his large hand is even warmer as it glides over the top of your thigh, his touch soothing you back down from dark thoughts you shouldn’t be turning to.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. You were saying?”

He looks at you hesitantly, his eyes flicking over you quickly to assess that you’re really alright, but your small smile reassures him as he continues on.

Your eyes flicker over the flashy signs, the pink hue reflecting off the scarlet red ones, giving it just the right mix of a perfect combination. He sees you staring, and his lips curl up into a big grin as he raises his eyebrows. “What’s got your attention, hmm?” he asks as he looks over at the sparkling pink sign you’re staring at.

“The signs. There’s pink ones now, not just red…” Your voice catches on a whisper, almost being drowned out by the blaring pop song that booms through the speakers, but he still hears you.

“Oh, those. Yeah, some pretty little thing complained that there was too much red. Said I should throw some pink in there. Stubborn thing, a bit moody, but glad I listened to her. It doesn’t look half bad.” He winks at you, and suddenly your heart is in your throat, pumping and making you gasp as he smirks your way with a knowing look in his eyes.

You take your chance to flirt, leaning forward as your fingertips hover over the top of his knee. “Didn’t think you’d listen to me after I was complaining the whole time. Didn’t know I was talking to the owner of the club. You could’ve just kicked me out,” you say with a curt laugh.

He leans forward just a tad, the tops of his calloused fingers laying gently on the top of your thigh as you gasp in response to the heat of his touch. “Sweetheart, now why on earth would I kick you out? You clearly had an affect on me, otherwise I would’ve kept the signs the way they were. And besides,” he leans forward and places his mouth against the shell of your ear, his hot breath dancing across your skin, causing goosebumps to rise. “I wouldn’t have gotten to make you cum on my thigh if I would’ve done that.”

Your breath hitches, your body coming to life as you feel the nerve endings light up against his touch, his breath, his smell. Suddenly, you want more, need more. And maybe he’ll give it to you, just maybe…

“Why’d you come back here?” he whispers in the crest of your ear, his voice falling like drops of water against your heated skin, showering you in a mist of desire. “I don’t think it’s to socialize or find another guy, not even to sit back and grab a drink at the bar.”

You feel his hand ghost over the edge of your hip, his palm hovering over the small of your back as you fight to keep yourself together. “No,” you hum, voice lilting like a fresh rose as your fingertips dig into the denim of his thigh.

His lips slide against your jawline, his whiskey breath fogging your mind as he whispers back to you in a deep, gravelly tone. “So, why’d you come back, angel? You want somethin’ else from me? Want me to give you more pleasure, more ecstasy?”

His gruff voice slides through your body, making the inside of your thighs press together as you feel the sticky slick drip against your lace. He hasn’t even gotten his hands on you tonight, and you’re already drowning in him.

You grab hold of his button-up, clinging to his silky fabric as you feel his coarse scruff drag against the edge of your cheek. You can smell him, almost taste the whiskey dripping down the back of his throat. And you want to taste it, feel it between your legs.

“I… Joel,” you whimper as his other hand trails up your thigh, dragging those thick, calloused fingers up up up until he’s raising the hem of your dress, just enough to drag a low groan from your throat.

“Yeah, s’that right?” he purrs as his lips meet the shell of your ear again.

You hold in a moan as his fingertips trace circles over your heated skin, his hand sliding up to skim the inside of the crease of your thigh, eliciting tingles that start low in your stomach. You want it, want him. “Joel,” you whisper, only low enough for him to hear as you cling harder to his button-up.

“Gotta use your words, darlin’,” he chuckles. “Now, tell me. You want me to take you to the back? Give you more than last time? ‘Cause I’d sure love to taste you, really taste you,” he smirks.

“Are you gonna put me on your thigh again?” you ask breathlessly while his lips trace dangerously over the crest of your ear.

“No, angel. Not this time. Gonna show you somethin’ else. Gonna put my mouth between those pretty legs of yours,” he chuckles while his eyes darken with danger and temptation.

A wave of slick washes over you, and you’re already dripping at the anticipation of having his tongue swallow you whole.

“So, that what you want? Want me to show you how truly good I can make you feel?”

You’re nearly pulling him toward you with how strong your grip on him is as you nod your head up and down like an eager puppy. “Mhm. Please,” you respond with a complacent whine.

He laughs and pulls you out of your seat, keeping his fingers entangled with yours as he grabs his glass of whiskey and drags you along. “C’mon then. Let’s go get ya taken care of.”

He guides you through the dancing crowd, pushing through sweaty bodies as the bass fills your insides, the loud music mixing together with the nerves pulling down your spine as you follow him into the unknown.

The glittery dark walls turn into a narrow hallway as couples making out against the crowded walls step aside when they see Joel. They gawk at him and whisper quiet slurs as you pass them by, probably wishing they were you at this very moment.

He looks back at you and smirks, his grip on you tightening, the shadows making the dark brown flecks in his eyes look almost black. As black as a panther’s fur, eyes that want to pounce and consume you whole. And that just makes your heart hammer loudly against your chest as you stare back into those dreamy pools of desire.

He takes you to the last door at the end of the dark hallway, painted crimson red as he twists the lavish golden handle and presses through, leading you in as he quietly closes it behind him and turns the lock to where no one else can get in. You gulp and try to take a slow breath, but the nerves seem to be crushing down on your lungs. You’re typically quite eloquent, but try as you might, you can’t seem to place what it is you’re feeling. Nervous. Excited. Absolutely panicked. You want this but your mind and body seem to be at odds.

When you turn around, your mouth parts open as you take in the massive room. A large leather couch sits in the middle, a long pool table with red smooth felt coating the top of it sits in the right hand corner. The lights are dim, a lit fireplace sits crackling next to the leather couch, the walls glisten with shimmering black wallpaper, and the feel of the room is homey, warm, private. You can still hear the pounding music and occasional chants of club goers, but it’s mostly quiet in here. The only thing you can hear is the rushing of blood through your eardrums, your heart right along with it.

He lingers by the doorframe, adjusting his sleeves as he carefully rolls them up to his elbows, his smoldering eyes never leaving yours. Suddenly you’re a hot mess, fingers twisting against the hem of your blue dress, your eyes blown wide as you feel your chest tighten at the thought of being alone with him. Joel Miller. The club owner, the absolute menace who was sent to break into your closed up boundaries.

“Where do you want me?” you ask breathlessly.

He stalks toward you, a sly smirk on his face as he starts to back you up toward the leather couch. You have no room to go around, no way to say no, your body just moves pliantly at his command as his thick fingers push gently against your hips.

“On the couch, sweetheart. Right. Here.” He gently pushes you down as you land in a heap on the plush couch. You scoot back, your legs sliding easily over the black leather as you squeeze your thighs together and dig your fingers into the edge of the new material.

You’re suddenly so nervous as sweat pools against the back of your neck, your lips trembling as you watch him take a generous gulp of his amber colored whiskey. You watch the way he moves, his bulging biceps clinging to his button-up, his slicked back curls throwing smoky grey colors under the dim lighting as he turns slowly, ending right between your legs.

He slowly bends down, running his calloused fingers languidly over the curve of your thighs. Your body tenses up, fingers digging into the slick material as your breath hitches at the sight of that smug smirk he has pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He tries to part your legs, but you hold back, afraid to show him what you look like bare. What if he doesn’t like what he sees, what if he suddenly changes his mind, what if he tells you to leave? Suddenly, you’re overstimulated by all the unknowns, and you can barely stand to look into his dark eyes as your own gazes toward the black polished floors.

As if he can sense your blinding fears and see right through your insecurities, his blown out eyes ease up, his eyebrows knitting together as he stares up at you with a look of encouragement. He cups your chin and makes you gaze up, right into the pits of his softening eyes.

“Hey,” he says with a gentle voice. “You nervous?”

You stumble over your words and just nod, letting the gut wrenching feeling slide down your closed up throat. “Mhm,” you nod slowly.

His lips curl up into a gentle smile, and it takes the breath out of you as his dimple caves into the middle of his cheek. One hand lingers on the top of your thigh, and the other grazes softly underneath your chin. “You don’t gotta be nervous now, sweetheart. Jus’ relax, breathe.”

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, starting to relax every limb in your body as you cautiously release your fingers from the edge of the couch and lay them by the hem of your sparkly dress.

“There ya go, angel. Jus’ breathe. Can ya do that for me?” You nod your head, and he chuckles lightly. “Good. Now, wanna tell me what’s got ya all nervous?”

You try to look down, but he keeps his hand rested underneath your chin. You squirm a little, shuffling your hips against the squeaky leather, but he stills your body underneath him with his large palm. Your eyes shift up to his, and there’s no escaping those soft chocolate eyes that seem to stare straight into the depths of your shaking soul.

“I just… I haven’t really. I’m not…” Fuck. You can’t even think straight, let alone speak without making a fool of yourself. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe…

He presses his calloused fingers softly against your jawline and furrows his eyebrows as he assesses your stiff features. “Have you ever had anyone go down on you before?” His words are so gentle, not at all condescending which makes you unclench your jaw just a tad.

“I mean, a couple of times, but it wasn’t anything special. Maybe just a few seconds. They didn’t actually make me feel good. I think it was just so they could slide in. It wasn’t for my benefit, guess you could say. So no, I guess I really haven’t,” you mutter as you pout your bottom lip out.

His brows knit together in a tight line, his jaw ticking as he looks at you with a soft gaze. His fingertips leave your chin, and you feel like you’ve just lost a clutch on yourself, but his fingertips land softly on your wrist instead. “Well, that’s a real shame. They must be fuckin’ blind to pass up a girl like you. A real fuckin’ shame, but don’t worry, angel, I’m gonna make you feel so good. I can promise you that. You want that?”

You eagerly nod your head up and down as your words tumble out of your mouth. “Yes, Joel. Please.” Maybe you’re a little too eager because you wrap your fingers firmly around his wrist like you're digging your roots into the tan of skin.

He chuckles lightly and smiles up at you, the dark flecks of his eyes seeming to sparkle under the dimly lit lights of the private room. “You gonna relax for me?”

“Mhm,” you hum out.

“Attagirl,” he winks. You nearly choke on your own saliva at the sound of him saying Attagirl. It’s a simple word, but he’s telling you what a good girl you’re being, and it sends butterflies flitting through your lower belly.

His fingertips start to graze up and down the tops of your thighs, his calloused thumbs dipping down to your inner thighs as he starts to massage the area tenderly. You know what he’s doing, know what he’s capable of doing as he looks up at you with hungry, dark eyes. He wants to devour you, and you sure as hell aren’t going to say no to him. The hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on wants you. And you sure as hell want him, too.

“Need a little liquid courage to relax a little, hmm?” he asks as he cocks one eyebrow up, his head turning to the side as he looks at you with curious eyes.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” you shrug.

“Alright then, angel. Tip your head back jus’ a little. Gonna give ya a taste of my whiskey,” he says with a sultry tone.

You do as he says, tipping your head back just an inch as you watch him get up from the corner of your eye. He grabs his glass of amber whiskey, swirling it around as the ice hits the edge of the clear cup, making a clinking noise that sounds a lot like how your insides feel. All tingly and alive with nerves pulling low in your gut.

“Tip your head a little more, that’s it,” he approves as he places a hand under your chin and coaxes your lips open with his calloused thumb. “Keep that pretty mouth open now.”

You watch him tip his own head back, taking a large gulp of his whiskey on the rocks. Your eyes grow wide when you see him leaning over you as his thumb pulls your mouth open wider. He lets the alcohol pool out of his mouth like a running faucet, flowing down through your own mouth as the whiskey and the taste of his saliva mix together while it slides slowly down the back of your throat.

“Swallow,” he instructs as he closes your mouth, still hovering over you as he watches you down his taste. You feel the burn simmer through your stomach, taste him on the tip of your tongue as his woodsy cologne sends you into a hazy fog where all you can see is him as his dark eyes begin to grow black.

“Good girl,” he praises. Your mouth gawks open as he sinks back down to the floor, situating himself between the center of your legs as he slowly begins to part them.

He clicks his tongue as he sees your body sewn to the back of the couch. “Now, angel, can’t reach ya all the way back there. C’mere.”

He pulls you to the edge of the leather couch, the palms of his calloused hands latching onto the backs of your thighs. And then he’s parting them, running his fingers nice and slow up the inside of your thighs until he’s hiking the bottom of your dress up over your hips.

You can’t breathe, your voice being held back by the drowned out whines and moans you’re already holding back. You know you’re going to fall apart as soon as his large tongue meets your center, and he’s going to devour you, lick you clean till you have nothing left to give because you just have this feeling that he’ll work you and work you and work you till you’re fully gone. And it nearly drowns out the pulsing energy flowing through your ears.

He drags his lips against your skin, sending trails of kisses up the insides of your thighs as you suck in a breath from the tingling sensations he’s sending straight to your core. He drags his lips higher, lifting your skirt flush over your thighs as he pulls you closer to him while his breath blows gently over your clothed core.

“Look at you, already soakin’ for me,” he purrs as he drags the tip of his curved nose against your clothed folds. Fuck. You hold in a whine, bucking your hips forward as you silently beg him to keep going.

He chuckles out at your response, his dark eyes smoldering as he takes the tip of his thumb and starts to slowly caress your soaked folds. He gauges your reaction, your wide eyes and panting mouth as he starts to circle your clit slowly through the dripping lace.

“Joellll,” you whine out, your manicured nails digging into the leather of the couch.

“Yeah? Does it feel good,” he teases as he presses harder against your buzzing bundle of nerves.

“Mhm, need more. Need you to…”

“Shhh. I’ve got ya, angel. Jus’ gettin’ ya nice and worked up. Want you drippin’ for me. Want this pretty pussy messy and sticky so I can drink you down like a bottle of sweet whiskey,” he purrs with mischief written all over those syrupy brown eyes.

Before you can speak, he takes his tongue and runs it slowly over your clothed core, soaking your ruined lace as you stifle out a moan and buck your hips forward. “Joel, please,” you beg as your heels dig into the surface of the dark floor.

“That’s what I thought,” he teases as his dark eyes shift up toward you. “Now, let’s get these off ya, shall we?” He pulls your lacy panties down your legs and over your high heeled stilettos, bunching up the ruined material and shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans.

He spreads you wide, your pussy on full display as he sits back on his heels and gawks at you, sliding his palm over his silvery scruff as his eyes blow out wide. He groans, long and deep as he takes in the sight of your dripping core. You can barely breathe as you watch him take you in nice and slow, his eyes alight with fire you want to dip your fingertips into.

“Goddamn. You’re fuckin’ perfect, angel. Look at that pretty pink pussy. Drippin’ and soppin’ jus’ for me, ain’t that right?” He smirks, eyes blowing out into black pits as he leans back down and starts spreading your thighs, his meaty hands holding you down while his cool breath blows over your sensitive center.

You squirm underneath him, feeling sweat pool beneath your long locks as you watch him become mesmerized with your glistening, sticky core. “Joel,” you whisper, barely making a sound as you try to hold yourself back from crushing his face to your center.

“Mmm, yeah. You’re such a messy girl, think I need to clean you up,” he purrs as his thumb lightly traces over your sticky folds.

“Please,”you beg as you groan out with need. “Your mouth, Joel. I need it,” you whine.

“Yeah, ya do,” he smirks. The next thing you know, he’s leaning down and licking a thick, clean stripe all the way from your dripping hole to the tops of your curls above your glistening mound. You moan, body writhing beneath him as he takes his meaty hands and holds your hips still.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet, angel. Jus’ hold on. Let me take care of this pretty pussy.”

He dives back in, his thick fingers spreading your folds wide as he devours you whole. His tongue languidly slides up and down, collecting drops of slick as he works you nice and slow. Your hips cant up every time his large tongue glides over your buzzing mound, feeling the electric zaps of lightning shooting down your spine when he takes his time and drowns himself in your messy pussy.

He works and works and works you over, drawing meticulous circles around your puffy clit while your eyes roll back, and you toss your head back in full elation. You can feel the energy coursing through your body, feel that aching desire being fed as he feeds on you, flicking his tongue up and down ravenously until you swear you see stars in your vision.

You tangle your fingers into his greying locks, hear him groan under your hold as you fight to keep a grip on yourself. You’re so close to spilling, so close to elated bliss as your body hums beneath your skin.

“Eyes on me, angel. Wanna see those beautiful eyes. Watch me, wanna see you fall apart against my tongue,” he purrs as he licks another long stripe up the center of your folds.

When you snap your eyes open, they go wide as you look at the hungry beast of a man beneath you. He looks completely wrecked, black blown eyes searing into your gaze, his beard dripping in your glistening arousal, his rough tongue working your aching bundle of nerves while his large hands hold your thighs down, making sure you do cum beneath his tongue.

You’re a panting mess, high pitched moans drowning out the blaring music from the other side of the club while you feel yourself start to break. Another wave of slick hits his tongue, and you’re fighting everything inside you to hold on just a little longer.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Wanna see you, wanna taste you. C’mon now, give it to me,” he growls. He pulls your puffy clit into his mouth and sucks, firing off every single nerve ending in your body until you can’t hold on anymore. You’re gone.

“Joel - fuck,” you moan as you feel the tingling sensations run flush down your spine, igniting fireworks in your mind that make you dizzy, and then you’re spilling yourself all over him. Slick builds on his tongue, and he groans while he laps up every bit of it while he growls good girl through the pleasurable licks. He keeps you there till there’s not a hint of slick left between your thighs, he eats you up like a ravenous dog that’s starving for you.

When he’s finished, he looks up and smirks at you with a mischievous smile. “How was that, angel? Did I make you feel good?”

You nod your head up and down slowly. “So good. I’ve never felt anything quite like that,” you pant out as he chuckles up at you.

“Well, that’s good. ‘Cause I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes. Not done with you yet?

“Oh no, angel. That was one orgasm. You’re gonna give me another one.”

“Another one? But I…”

“Know you have more in you, sweetheart. Let me get you there, let me make you lose control.”

He slides you forward, holding your hip down with one of his meaty hands while his other starts to play with your sensitive mound. “I can make you cum in so many ways. This time I’ll take you through with my fingers, know exactly where to get ya,” he smirks, his blown out eyes looking like black pits of desire, a pit you’ll gladly follow him into.

You pant out in a needy whine, watching him drag his middle and ring fingers down your folds, and then shoving them deep into your dripping hole. “Oh,” you moan as he bends his fingers and reaches that spongy, soft spot that makes slick collect on his drenched knuckles.

“Yeah? Feel good?” he asks with a smug smirk on that handsome face, your release still sticking through his greying threads throughout his beard. The sight of it makes you drip more for him, panting out a moan when you respond.

“Mhm, Joel. Feels - so good,” you murmur as you dig your nails into the shoulder of his crimson shirt.

“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear,” he responds while licking his lower lip seductively.

He pushes the back of his thumb into your buzzing clit, drawing slow, meticulous circles while his other fingers pump in and out of you, drawing wet, squelching noises out of you that just seem to turn him on even more.

“C’mon, angel. Tell me how good I’m makin’ ya feel,” he purrs as he continues pulverizing your needy pussy.

“So fucking good. Oh my god, Joel,” you whine as he bathes you in pure ecstasy, coating you in desires you didn’t even know you had in you. All you know is you want more, need more of him.

“Mmm, that’s good, angel. Wanna make you cum again,” he growls as his dark, blown out eyes tear into your whimpering soul.

“Please, Joel. Feels so good. Your fingers, your… fuck,” you whine as he ruts up into you, pushing on that sweet, spongy area that makes slick drip down his huge knuckles.

He chuckles, speeding up his meticulous circles of your clit and thrusting his fingers deep inside your messy hole. The wet noises of his calloused fingers brushing up into you are sinful, filling you to the brim until you can barely hold yourself back. You’re about to cum again, but this time feels much different than the last.

“C’mon now, messy girl. Spill for me, soak me,” he growls as his fingers move faster in and out of you, continuously tormenting you with how fucking good you feel beneath his touch.

“Joel, I’m gonna… gonna…”

“Give it to me,” he demands with the bite of his snarl and blown out black pupils.

One more hit to your spongy walls and he’s knocking the orgasm out of you. His thumb stays clenched down on your throbbing clit, and your orgasm washes through you like a raging hurricane that destroys whole cities with its powerful riptides. You spill yourself, experiencing a new sensation that almost overpowers you as it takes you on the ride of your life. You start squirting, your elated moans filling the emptiness of the room as you release hot, damp slick all over his crimson button-up.

“Oh fuck yeah, angel. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Goddamn,” he praises as his fingers slowly massage your insides, working out your mind blowing orgasm as you fight to keep yourself upright.

The arousal glistens on his salt-and-pepper scruff, slick coating the front of his soft material, while he’s knuckles deep into your dripping pussy as you take in just how fucked out he looks. He looks so hot with his messy curls falling down into his blown out eyes, his tongue licking his bottom lip seductively while he works you nice and slow with those meticulous fingers of his. He’s a work of art, a perfect masterpiece that you don’t want to stop looking at. He’s everything you really ever wanted in a man. And he looks so wrecked.

His eyes narrow playfully, black pits that swallow you whole as he hooks your tired legs over his broad shoulders and slides you to the very edge of the damp leather couch. His breath blows over your sensitive center, and you can barely tolerate anymore.

“Joel,” you whine, feeling like you have nothing else to give.

“S’okay, angel. One more, give me one more,” he coaxes as he melts his mouth down to your over sensitive core.

You have no room to speak, nowhere to go as he melds his tongue against your folds, dipping inside you, stroking languid licks against your aching clit that’s pulsing and so sensitive. He takes you past the edge, past all your boundaries as you dig your fingers into his mop of messy curls.

“Joel, it’s too much. I can’t cum again. I can’t…” you whine as he pops his mouth off your puffy clit.

“You can, angel. One more. Give me one more,” he purrs as you nod your head and hold in a whine. He takes his tongue and licks a thick strip all the way up your core, collecting slick against his tongue while he works up another building orgasm that you didn’t know you had left in you.

His fingers curl into you, reaching your spongy walls as his tongue pulls your drenched clit into his warm mouth. He sucks and drools over you, mixing his own saliva into your slick clit as he sucks and slurps on your aching core.

“Joel, I think I’m about to…”

“That’s it, angel. One more time, let me hear those pretty moans. Say my name. Say it,” he slurs as he pushes his nose into the curls above your mound and licks feverishly against your puffy clit.

“Ahhh, Joellll,” you moan as you feel your slick wash through you, coating his tongue as he generously laps you up, panting between licks as he holds your hips down to lavish in your white hot release.

Your breath comes in waves, leaning your head back into the cushion of the leather couch as you watch him languidly clean all the slick from your sore, over sensitive pussy.

When he’s finished cleaning you off, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smirks up at you with that devilish, handsome grin you burn into the back of your buzzing brain. He pulls the skirt of your dress down and pushes himself up, collapsing into the spot next to you on the plushy couch.

You both sigh, breathing heavily as he looks over at you and smiles, his blown out eyes relaxing into honey glazed eyes that burn holes through your vision. He’s so pretty when he smiles, eyes alight and his messy curls falling into his sweaty forehead. He looks fucking wrecked, but he looks so good like that. You wonder what he’d look like with you between his large legs…

“How was that, hmm? Did I exceed your expectations?” he smirks as he lets his head fall back into the couch, glowing eyes staring right through you.

You smile, taking a deep breath as you let your aching muscles relax. “That was the best three orgasms of my life. You’re pretty… amazing,” you beam as you see the hint of a sparkle in those thick pools of honey.

“Glad I could make ya feel good, angel. You deserve it, and I’m so happy that I could be of some assistance,” he chuckles as his calloused fingers slowly trail up and down your thigh, a gentle rhythm that puts you at ease.

Suddenly, you feel like you should move, get up from this couch full of comfort. You want to make him feel good. You should, after he coaxed three insane orgasms out of you, you feel as if you owe him. And you want to, need to give him the same. So you will. Right now.

You slowly slide from the couch, ending on your knees as you crawl between his legs, laying your hands flat on his jeans while your fingertips dig into the meat of his thighs. You want to taste him just like he tasted you.

“What are you doin’ down there, angel, hmm?” he asks curiously with one eyebrow raised high on his forehead.

You brush your fingertips higher, hands now resting on his leather belt. “What does it look like I’m doing?” You smirk up at him and watch his eyes darken with desire.

He runs his tongue smoothly over his bottom teeth and gives you a crooked half grin that makes you weak in the knees. “Thought you didn’t like goin’ down on guys, sweetheart. Change your mind?” His jaw ticks, and he looks at you as if he’s teasing you in the best possible way.

You smile sweetly up at him and say, “Well, you’re not just any guy,” you laugh as you roll your eyes. “You’re not them, you gave me pleasure first, indescribable bliss. So let me repay the favor. I want to do this. You didn’t ask, I just want to give you exactly what you gave me.”

He leans forward, narrowing his dark eyes as he smirks devilishly your way, licking his lower lip as he gazes hungrily into your eyes. “Think you can handle it?”

Your breath hitches, watching the way he’s teasing you, dark eyes alight with mischief written in those flecks of black charcoal. If he thinks that’s turning you on again then he’s absolutely right. You’re already so wet again, slick pooling in between your sticky thighs.

You lean forward and undo his leather belt as you toss it to the floor in a heap, smirking smugly up at him. “Oh, I can handle it.”

He cocks a thick eyebrow up and relaxes into the slick couch, spreading his legs as he nods down to his jeans. “Alright then, sweetheart. Let’s see what you can do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

You giggle silently and smile up at him, leisurely unzipping his zipper and tugging down his denim jeans, along with his black boxers. When his erect cock springs free, you gawk over how absolutely massive he is. His long, thick cock is leaking precum, the swollen red tip of him begging to be touched. He’s so fucking big that you can barely form a coherent sentence, he’s absolutely sensational.

“What’s the matter, angel?” he teases as he cocks his head to the side, a sarcastic smile tugging at his plush lips. “Think you can still handle it?”

You watch him carefully, narrowing your eyes as you smirk up at him. He’s challenging you, coaxing you to take a hold of him. He doesn't know yet that you can’t pass up a challenge, especially when it comes to him. You may be timid most of the time, but this time you need to show him that you can handle him.

You lean forward, inching your hand over his muscular thigh until you’re ghosting over his weeping cock. “Oh, I can handle it. Watch me,” you smirk.

He lifts his brows like he’s trying to figure you out, like he wants to crawl inside your scrambled mind until he finds exactly what he wants to know. But somehow he knows you can handle it, so he leans back into the leather and nods his head. “Go on, then. Handle it,” he challenges.

You lick your glossy lips seductively as you reach your hand around the girth of his thick cock, slowly spreading the building precum up and down his shaft as you indulge in the wet sounds your hands are making working up and down him. He groans, shifting his hips forward as he relaxes his back against the leather of the couch.

Keeping your eyes on him, you lean down and slowly lick up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, languidly taking your time and ending at the tip as you swirl your tongue in slow circles over his swollen red head.

“Christ,” he groans, his dark pits turning carnal as he watches you take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks out as you start to bob your head up and down slowly, one hand at the base working the bottom of his shaft while your spit mixes with his precum.

You feel him squirm underneath you, his cock spasming in your mouth as you take him deeper, feeling your drool coat his slick cock as you suck him and tease him with your tongue, your hand, the back of your throat. He tastes so good, the salty bitterness sliding down your throat as you drink him down like he’s a fresh glass of sweet lemonade on a hot summer day in Austin.

You take a breather, pulling off of him as you wrap your hand around his large length and start spreading your drool over him, making him messy as you smile sweetly up at him.

He looks at you with cloudy eyes, looking absolutely fucked out as he takes you in. Messy lips, lip gloss smeared over his slick cock, a bead of drool connecting from his weeping tip to your lower lip, cheeks flushed pink as you look up at him with glossy eyes. He thinks you’re fucking perfect, a vision only the gods should see. And he feels as if he’s won the lottery because you’re a goddamn treasure.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Didn’t know you were so good with that pretty mouth of yours. Not too shy now, are ya?” he chuckles as he traces your bottom lip, catching the strand of drool that connects you to him like an intricate spider web spun around his swollen cock.

“Guess not,” you say as you shake your head. The way he’s looking at you seems intimate, even through his big, blown out eyes, it’s like he’s fawning over you, the position you’re in, between his knees, hand wrapped around his shaft, drool pooling in your mouth. It’s too much, too affectionate, you’re suddenly a blushing mess.

“Well, go on, angel. Keep goin’. Bein’ such a good girl with that pretty mouth, don’t stop on my account,” he chuckles, sliding his tongue menacingly over his bottom teeth as he winks at you.

You feel crimson fill your cheeks as you get back to work. You take him back in your mouth, slowly sliding down, down, down until you’re nearly choking on him. You make a muffled, gagging sound around him, and he tenses under you, groaning your name as he takes a hand and wraps it around your hair, holding it out of the way as you devour him.

“Attagirl, that’s it,” he hisses through his teeth when you go back down on him, your tongue twirling around his tip after you slide up and down the shaft of him, ending at his balls while you suck and wet them with your drool and spit.

“Goddamn,” he moans, cupping the back of your neck while your hair is wrapped firmly around his hand. When you come back up to the red, angry tip, he rasps out. “Think you can take me deeper, sweetheart?”

Your heart speeds up, pulling itself into your throat as you swallow back any hesitation. He’s so big, it’ll be hard, but you’ll try. As long as he can guide you, you think you can do it.

You slowly nod your head up and down, taking a nice, deep breath while you still have the chance. “Mhm, yeah. I can try,” you pant out as he smiles warmly down at you.

“Alright, angel. Gonna guide you, okay? Jus’ wrap your hand around my wrist if it gets too much. Don’t wanna take you past your limits,” he chuckles, placing his large hand back where it was, keeping your hair wrapped around his calloused fingers.

You open your mouth wide, taking him back in your mouth while he slowly guides you down against him. You hollow your cheeks, opening your throat as he takes you down down down until your nose is grazing against the coarse, dark hair at the base of him. When you come back up again, breathing fresh air through your nose, he asks if you’re okay. When you nod your head yes, he smirks and takes you back down.

He speeds up his movements, guiding you back and forth down on his messy cock as he starts to fuck up into your mouth. The pacing is swift, erratic, desperate as he drives your mouth down on him over and over again. You’re so fucking full of him that obscene, squelching noises are coming out of your throat while you mouth fuck him again and again and again. You’re drowning in your own saliva, the drool pooling out of your throat and onto his large length while you gag and choke on his massive cock.

You can’t hear the thumping music out on the dance floor anymore, can only hear his stifled moans and the throat fucking noises reverberate across the dimly lit private room. Your eyes water, mascara running down your eyes while his hand tightens and pulls firmly on your hair, your own moans filling the space while you slip one hand under your dress while the other grips the end of his shirt.

You circle your aching clit, feeling pleasure run through your body while he ruts his hips into your mouth and chokes on another heated moan. “Look at you, angel. Already soakin’ again, yeah? Chokin’ on this fat cock made you wet again, hmm?” he teases as he lifts your mouth up and watches the drool pool from your tired mouth.

“Mhm, it did,” you nod as the breath leaves your body, his salty taste still lingering in the back of your throat while your hand goes back to slowly working him up and down.

You moan out in pleasure, feeling the precipice of your orgasm about to wash over you as he watches with wrecked black eyes. “Gonna cum again, angel?”

“Ye- yeah,” you pant as you feel the white hot sensation start to take over, feeling your muscles collapse beneath your knees as he places a sturdy hand on your shoulder to keep you from falling over. “Joelllll,” you scream as he works you through your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck yeah, sweetheart. Such a good girl spillin’ for me again. There ya go, what an angel,” he purrs as you fight to keep your eyes open, feeling the aftershocks of a fourth orgasm in just under an hour. You’ve never cum this many times, but also you’ve never met a man like Joel. A pure menace that keeps you on your toes.

He keeps you upright while you lean into his meaty thighs, one hand languidly stroking him up and down while the slick and drool collects in your palm. “Joel,” you whine with a pathetic cry that whimpers from your throat.

“What do ya need, sweetheart? Tell me what you want,” he coaxes, his thick fingers massaging the back of your shoulders gently.

“Want to… want to finish you off. Wanna make you cum,” you groan out.

He looks down at you, gentle brown eyes gazing through you as a light chuckle comes from his lips. “You seem pretty tired, darlin’. You sure you can…”

“Yes,” you snap, eyes heating into his like a swirling fire. “Let me finish you off. Gag me, Joel. Fuck my mouth, please,” you beg.

He chuckles out, eyes blowing back out as he smirks your way. “Such a dirty girl, ain’t ya? Alright, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely, I’ll jus’ give ya what you want.”

He grabs a fistful of your hair, holding you in place as he brings his weeping cock up to your mouth and thrusts in, hitting the back of your throat while you gag and swallow him whole, his massive cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. You sit there and take it, on your knees while your hands dig into the meat of his thighs.

His thrusts speed up, snapping his hips into the air as he grunts and swallows your name on elated moans. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl, yeah. Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. Goddamn,” he grunts as he thrusts harder into the back of your throat.

He’s so close, you can feel it by the winded breaths and breathy moans, his body coming to life every time he ruts up into you. It’s like he’s everywhere all at once, his salty cum sliding down your hot throat as you feel him about to burst.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last any longer, angel. I’m gonna… gonna cum,” he huffs as he tightens his fist through your messy curls. You inhale his musk, the smell of sweat and sex consuming you while he mouth fucks you nice and hard.

Just when you feel like you’re about to run out of breath, he thrusts deep inside your throat, your nose gliding against the base of his coarse hairs when you feel his cock spasm around the back of your throat. Before you know it, hot ropes of white cum are filling you, shooting down your closed up throat as you drink his salty release down.

“Christ,” he groans as he releases the last of his cum, filling you nice and full with the white spurts of him.

He releases his grip in your hair, pushing you back as he slowly slides out of your drool encased throat. When you finally take a breather, you cough a few times, choking on nothing until you’re panting out in raspy breaths.

You see him tuck himself back into his boxers, sliding his jeans up his hips as he zips himself back up and reaches down, cupping your chin as he takes a good look at the absolute wreck he made you.

“Look at you,” he laughs, gazing into your tear soaked eyes while his thumb gently grazes against your drool covered mouth, lip gloss covering half your chin. “Really did a number on ya, huh?” he teases.

“Looks like it,” you smile.

He smiles back, and it’s so warm that you have to stop and take a long, deep breath. He’s positively radiating right now, and it makes something tug hard inside your core. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he asks.

He unbuttons the red collared button-up quickly, throwing his pristine white t-shirt over his head. And you can’t help but gawk at his tanned, glowing skin and the ripped muscles he has against his broad chest. He’s fucking gorgeous, he almost doesn’t even look real.

“C’mere,” he chuckles as he takes the soft t-shirt and cleans you off, running the cotton material against your messy mouth, your rainy eyes, your clumpy mascara, your sweat covered forehead. He’s so gentle with his large hands, almost delicate as he traces every inch of your face until you’re all cleaned up. You can’t help but stare at him the entire time he takes care of you. You’ve never had this, never known this.

Why was he doing this for you? Surely he’d just leave you to clean up after yourself, but he doesn’t. He does it for you.

“There ya go, all better,” he smiles gently, his caramel eyes a lighter brown as he stares back at you, something warm and admirable in his flecked starry eyes. It’s nothing like you’ve seen before. It’s new, uncharted territory. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” you say in a daze, still on your sore knees while you stare up at him, eyelashes batting slowly.

“Good, that’s good,” he nods slowly, thumb still trailing along your jawline smoothly. It’s like you’re in a fog, your mind racing at whatever this is. He’s a menace, but he’s also so, so… caring. You almost can’t say the word.

He throws on his silky shirt again, butting the small buttons as he covers his tanned, hairy chest. You almost mourn the loss of his sweaty, glistening chest.

“What are you still doin’ on the floor?” he laughs as he scoots over to the edge of the couch, leaving the left side open for you.

“Oh, I don’t know. Guess I got stuck,” you giggle as you shake your head, but honestly you’re just so tired, and you can’t stop looking at his mess of curls and honey colored eyes that you want to slip into.

“Well, c’mon now. Let’s get you up. C’mere.” He lifts you up off the hard floor, turning you around to where you’re facing the opposite way. He leans back into the armrest of the chair, parting his legs as he scoops you up into his lap and pulls his arms around your waist while one hand gently slides up and down your bare right arm, his fingertips trailing against smooth skin.

Your body is so confused, muscles tensing with every stroke of his thumb. You shouldn’t stiffen up, shouldn’t shy away from him because he feels so warm, but yet your body doesn’t even know what’s happening. Why is he being so soft, so gentle? Your mind must be playing tricks on you. This isn’t normal. At least not normal for you…

Joel immediately notices your tight, strained muscles and carefully grips your shoulder. “Hey, why are you so tense? Hmm?” he asks with knit together brows, looking down at you with concern lathered all in those syrupy eyes.

You shrug, giving him your best perplexed look at you flutter your long lashes up at him. “I don’t know, guess I’m just known to be a little tense,” you whisper out, your eyes still staring up into those pools of warmth.

He smiles at you, chuckling out as he rubs the back of your neck, his thick fingers feeling like magic as they gradually dance over your smooth skin. “Relax,” he coaxes as he slides you up further on his lap, resting one arm lazily over your hip and the other drawing gentle circles in the crease of your arm.

Relax. The word slips through you, pulling every tense muscle out of its binds, releasing you slowly from any worries or anxiety in your buzzing mind. You’re here with Joel, you can relax. You don’t have to always go into fight or flight mode after being physical. This is a safe space. He is a safe space.

You nuzzle into the middle of his chest, resting your hand on the warm button-up as your hand brushes right over his beating heart. You can feel it beat a million miles an hour, the galloping hooves pumping in his veins. You also feel your own heart, steady and pacing wildly, and they start to mix together slowly.

Thump, thump, thump. It’s like your beats almost match his. A swift race of only two bodies colliding into the other, both running toward the other until you mesh into one. Two falling stars predestined to fall together. Binary stars.

You nestle your cheek into the cotton of his button-up, your hand slipping under his shirt as you feel hot, sticky skin and the flex of strong muscles. He flexes his arm across your back and languidly strokes up and down your spine, calming you of any tension and putting your tired muscles at rest.

He smells so good, woodsy pine scents sticking to his flannel, sweet whiskey collecting on his tongue, and maybe the hint of some kind of tobacco in his hair from the wild crowd outside this room’s door. You get so lost in his scent that you just now realize he’s stroking the back of your head, fingers combing through your locks of hair as he caresses your lower back with his other hand.

You close your eyes, breathing him deep as you relax into his soothing touch, feeling every brush of his calloused fingertips as he rubs the back of your head gently. Your eyes flash open when you realize just what this is. Aftercare.

Aftercare? Joel was giving you… aftercare? But why? No one had ever given you that. Why would he want to give you that?

He rips you out of your distant thoughts, his deep, gravelly voice blowing gently through your ear. “You okay?” he asks as he trails his index finger up and down your wrist. You wish he’d never stop.

“Mhm,” you hum as you nuzzle into his arm, wrapping yourself around it as you hear him chuckle lightly above you while his head comes to rest on the top of your head.

“You thirsty?”

“Yeah, actually,” you murmur against the cotton material rubbing softly against your cheek.

“Alright, let me jus’ go grab some water for you, sweetheart.” He shifts his weight carefully, sliding out from underneath you as he positions you against the soft cushion of the couch. “You gonna be alright if I’m gone for a few minutes?”

You flick your eyes up to his and nod sleepily. “Mhm.”

“Okay, angel. Be right back.”

Before he goes, he softly caresses your cheek with the back of his hand and then makes his way toward the door. He tugs it open, allowing the flow of carrying music to enter the room until he closes it gently, making the loud music suddenly go silent.

You breathe out a sigh, relaxing into the black leather as you place your fingers against the seat of the cushion. You still smell him, that whiskey and woodsy scent you could get drunk off. It engulfs you, makes you drunk with need. And then you feel that low tug when you think of those smoldering dark eyes and that lazy, crooked smile that seems to send your heart into a full on race.

You’re getting attached to him. You shouldn’t, you don’t need another shattered heart. But maybe Joel would be different, he is different. So maybe you need to let your concrete walls down again. Maybe for him you would…

You close your eyes, concentrate on soothing the growing ache in between your legs, breathing in his cologne that’s left lathered in the leather on the couch. It’s soothing, almost like a bedtime melody that can hum you to sleep. You’re so close to fading off, drifting into a calm sleep until you hear the rustling noise of a door being opened and the sound of party goers float through the dimly lit room.

Once you push yourself to a sitting position, Joel joins you next to you on the couch, skimming his denim jeans against your bare leg. “Sorry I took so long. Thought you might be hungry, too.”

Before you can ask what he means, he brings a basket of golden chicken fingers around his side and hands it to you, while his big brown gaze smiles back at you. Your mouth drops open, and you gawk at him. Chicken? He remembered what you said.

Blinking once, twice, three times in shock, you finally reach out and grab the red basket while your fingertips brush against his. “Chicken fingers? I didn’t think you had any food here? I thought you said…”

He laughs and places his hand on your thigh softly. “Well, if I remember correctly, some random girl just waltzed in here last weekend and started complaining ‘bout there not bein’ any food. Specifically chicken.”

He raises his brows and smirks your way, continuing his conversation. “She got me thinkin’ maybe I could use a private menu, somethin’ not open to the public jus’ yet. Maybe she wants to try it out first, hmm?”

You narrow your eyes playfully, grabbing a piece of a fried chicken finger and breaking off half. “Yeah? Maybe she does want to try,” you say flirtatiously. When you take a bite of the delicious goodness, you can’t help but groan at the taste of it. “Holy shit, this is really good,” you reply with a little bounce in your seat.

He chuckles and smiles, grabbing the other half from your hand and bites into it. “Yeah? That good?” he laughs as he folds himself back into the cushion of the couch.

“Yeah,” you reply with a smile wide on your face.

He changed the signs for you, made chicken for you, made you feel pleasure like you’ve never known before in your life, gave you aftercare. Joel was�� something out of a dream. So charming, handsome, dominant but yet so soft. You really needed to be careful with this one.

The red embers in the fire crackle in the corner while you and Joel talk about books, hobbies, music, your likes and dislikes. And it’s so easy as you fall back into laughter with him, flirting and smiling to each other while the both of you sip on iced waters and finish off the crispy chicken.

“Why’d you do it?” you ask quietly, after the chicken is finished off and you sit with your legs sprawled across his lap, his calloused fingers running slowly up and down your smooth skin.

“Do what?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as those pools of honey flood your mind.

“The pink signs, the chicken, and whatever else you changed that I didn’t notice.”

He looks at you a minute, his honey eyes glazing over yours while his greying scruff catches the dimly lit lighting of the glowing room. And it looks like he’s contemplating if he wants to say anything or not. He slightly shrugs and smiles over at you. “Guess it jus’ took a special girl to open my eyes.”

“Oh,” you gulp.

Special girl? He thinks you’re special? Oh.

His eyes never leave yours, those smoldering brown eyes you can’t get enough of. And you’re afraid you’re already falling hard.

You nod to his pocket that he stuffed your panties in and raise an eyebrow at him. “You gonna give me those back, Mr. Club Owner?” you tease as he smirks over at you with a devilish glint to his dark eyes.

“I don’t think so, angel. Think I might jus’ keep ‘em. Besides, they look better off you,” he winks as your cheeks flush red.

You shake your head and laugh. “You’re a menace, Joel. You know that?”

He throws his head back and chuckles loudly as his laugh carries around the large room. You love it, the sound of his deep, infectious laugh. You’re in big trouble, and you know that now. But there’s no going back now, it’s too late for that. He’s already had a taste of you, and you want more.

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@sawymredfox

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fan fiction #dom!joel miller #joel miller fic #joel x female reader #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #no outbreak!joel miller #no use of y/n

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rose-pearls · 8 months

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Hi! Could request something for clarisse x reader? Where reader is daughter of persphone and she’s sweet and kind but also strong and intimidating and can stand for herself and that’s what clarisse likes abt her

Hi! Thank you for the request! I hope you like it!!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)

Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303 (open)

Clarisse loved her girlfriend, but she could sometimes be too kind towards others, most specifically towards a certain Poseidon’s son.

“I don’t understand why you dislike him so much, he is a sweetheart,” you tell her one evening, wrapped in her arms as she tries not to fall asleep as your fingers brush against her skin delicately.

“I just don’t like him, he brings too much attention to himself,” she says, feeling a bit annoyed at the turn of conversation but as she smells the delicate smell of honey blossom, she feels herself calm down. Every child of Persephone had a certain smell of flowers that followed them, but it could change due to their mood. The only flowers she could pinpoint in yours were honey blossom and roses when Clarisse managed to make you blush or when you got angry.

“He doesn’t do it on purpose, just give him a chance,” Clarisse was happy when you then turned the conversation to another topic, not wanting to spend more time than necessary on the stupid topic of Percy Jackson.

Everyone knew you were kind; it was something that was known around camp when you helped others around, but it was also known that you were Clarisse’s girlfriend and that you were fiercely loyal to the Ares daughter. Some people saw it as a flaw, your unwavering loyalty, but she only saw it as proof of your love.

Kindness was often seen as a weakness, but Clarisse could make a whole book about you where she proves that entire point wrong, you had proven that to her when playing capture the flag. You weren’t just as sweet as a blossom but just as deadly as a rose, she had seen you throw a dagger at the head of a camper, only slightly cutting the skin of his cheeks.

“Try to take the flag again and this time I won’t avoid cutting your face entirely,” the sweet daughter of Persephone had said with a tone that would make even the god’s tremble. And that is how Clarisse had fallen for you; hard and fast as she saw you cutting through the other team as if you were just helping the Demeter kids growing flowers.

She had been waiting patiently, or not as she had no patience, for Chiron to reveal who would be on which team in Capture the flag. Rules had been made at one point that the Athena and Ares cabin would always be on opposite teams as they couldn’t get along, just like their parents. But the other cabins were often mixed up between the two.

“I can’t believe he would do this to me!”, Clarisse screams, and a couple of children scramble away at the angry daughter of Ares.

“Clarisse?”, you ask softly, making her slightly relax as she smells the comforting smell of flowers. You seem worried, hands on your hips as you look at her with wide eyes.

“Chiron put you on Annabeth’s team, I’m sure that little devil is really happy right now,” she murmurs the last part, crunching the paper in her hand as she begins to plot her revenge.

Your hand softly covers her, and she feels your fingers slowly stroke a pattern on her hand to try and get her to loosen her grip on the paper. When she finally does let go you take a look at the paper, humming to yourself as you see the teams.

“You have the Hermes cabin, which means you have Luke. Not all is lost my love,” Clarisse can’t help but blush at the nickname, you didn’t say it that often but when you did it would turn her into a blushing mess, just like right now.

“I would rather have you then Castellan and the other pipsqueaks,” she says, going back to her grumbling but she looks at you as you laugh softly.

“Common, it will all be alright. This is good, now you can already mentally prepare yourself to lose,” Clarisse raises her eyebrows at your statement, a smirk can be found on your glossed lips.

“Oh, really? And what you think that you are going to win this?” she whispers as she gets closer to you and you nod, confidence radiating off you.

“Of course, I will, and I will enjoy wiping the floor with your bodies,” you say and Clarisse doesn’t know if she feels competitive or hot and bothered at the sight of you so confident.

“Better prepare yourself to prove that statement princess, wouldn’t want to see you crying on the floor at the end,” Clarisse says, and she enjoys the scoff you let out at her words.

“Give me your worst La Rue,” you tell her, and she can only whisper it back before brining you into a heated kiss, efficiently bringing the conversation to a stop.

She should’ve known Annabeth would be using you against her, after all the girl was smart even at the age of twelve.

“Funny seeing you here,” she hears you say, and she can’t help but snort at your words before seeing a dagger in your hand.

“Common princess, really? Just one dagger?”, she can’t help but say, feeling already like they were going to win this game of Capture the flag.

“I don’t need more, you on the other hand seem to have a lot of weapons on you. Isn’t that too much weight?”, you ask her, with that sweet voice you always used on her, if you had been a daughter of Aphrodite, it could’ve been seen as charm speaking. But then again it only seemed to work on her.

You get closer to her, much more than how close you would usually get to an opponent, but she doesn’t say anything as she can only enjoy the touch of your fingers as you adjust her strap.

“You look so stunning in this, like a real warrior,” she knows you are trying to get to her, get her to lower her guard and it works, of course it does.

“Please don’t be mad at me?”, you whisper and before she can ask why you push her in the direction of the water, her sibling quickly falling with her as an invisible Annabeth pushes him.

“Percy, now!”, Annabeth yells and the boy manages to crash a huge wave on them before they can try to get up. The girl takes the flag and puts her cap on before running as fast as she can through the forest.

“Good job water boy,” you tell him as he comes out of the water, somehow already completely dry with a smirk on his lips.

“This was fun!”, he says before he sees a glaring Clarisse starting to stand up and running away in the direction of the blue flag.

“I cannot believe you just did that,” the Ares girl says with furrowed eyebrows, and you can see the glare in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, it was Annabeth plan, and I couldn’t really tell her that I wasn’t going to do it,” you tell her, but she grumbles under her breath, still looking beautiful even completely wet.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you tell her as you get closer to her, and she raises her eyebrows in interest.

“Really? How?”, she asks, and you smile as you wrap your arms around her neck, smiling even wider as you feel her arms slowly circle around your waist.

“You can decide, I’ll do anything you want for the rest of the day,” you tell her, and a flicker of mischief appears in her eyes, and you know far too well what that means.

“Except for pushing Percy into the water,” you tell her, and a pout appears on her lips.

“Fine, I want you to spend the rest of the day with me and give me your dessert at diner. I also want a back massage,” she has a smirk on her lips, and you quickly nod in agreement, excited to spend the rest of the day with her.

“And one more thing,” she says but before you can ask what her hands on your hips twist you around and push you into the cold water.

As you come back up, you can’t help but laugh at your satisfied girlfriend.

“Now we’re even,” she says before taking her armor off and joining you into the water.

Requests are open!

#percy jackson x reader #percy series #percy jackson #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #clarrise la rue #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue #clarisse x you #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue x y/n

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enchantedescapist · 6 months

Text

Unveiling Desires

Theodore Nott x Ravenclaw! reader

MY FIRST FIC ON TUMBLR. English is not my first language so be kind luvss , No warnings yet..just fluff Enjoy!💗

You and Theodore had always shared a complicated relationship.... From the moment you first laid eyes on each other in Potions class, there was an undeniable tension between you. But neither of you dared to acknowledge it, opting instead to exchange snide remarks and cold glares whenever your paths crossed.Despite your best efforts to ignore him, Theodore seemed to be everywhere you turned. Whether it was in the library or the courtyard, he was always there, a constant presence that you couldn't shake off.

It was during one of those chance encounters, in the library this time ... You were buried in a pile of books, trying to finish an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts when Theodore sauntered in, looking equally engrossed in his own work.

You tried to focus on your parchment, but his presence was distracting, to say the least. Every time you glanced up, you found him stealing glances in your direction, his expression unreadable.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, you slammed your quill down and turned to him, annoyance evident in your voice. "What do you want, Nott?"

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Just studying, same as you."

You rolled your eyes, not buying his act for a second. "Right, because you're such a model student"says sarcastically and sighs "Why do you even have to study on the same table as me when the whole library is empty"

Theodore chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Well, darling, maybe I just enjoy the view from this side of the table"

You let out an exasperated sigh hiding the effect he has on you. "Or maybe you just enjoy tormenting me."

He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Now, why would I ever do that?"

You shot him a pointed look, not buying his innocent act for a second. "Because you're Theodore Nott, the slytherin manwhore desperate for attention."

He laughed, the sound sending a flutter through your chest that you quickly squashed. "Touché, love. But in all seriousness, I'm here because your company is much more interesting than the solitude of an empty library"

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Is that so?"says while praying he won't notice the blush on your cheeks.

Theodore nodded, his piercing blue eyes locking with yours in a way that made your heart skip a beat. "Absolutely. Besides, why would i lose to witness your delightful eye rolls and exasperated sighs?"

You couldn't help but smile despite yourself, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his words. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He grinned, flashing you a roguish smile that made your stomach do somersaults. "Guilty as charged."

You felt a flush creeping up your neck at his proximity, cursing yourself for letting him get to you like this. "Well, as long as you're aware of it." you insisted, though the words sounded weak even to your own ears.

He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "Now you will excuse me darling cause i really enjoy the teasing but as a dedicated beater i have a quidditch practise to attend."

With that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face, Theodore gathered up his books and sauntered out of the library, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a newfound sense of confusion.

As the days passed, you couldn't shake the memory of that encounter from your mind. And try as you might, you couldn't deny the growing attraction you felt towards Theodore Nott, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

It all came to a head at the evening during a Ravenclaw-Slytherin Quidditch match. You were cheering on your house team from the stands when you noticed Theodore winking at someone , while following his gaze you notice he winked at a girl from Slytherin.

A pang of jealousy shot through you at the sight, catching you off guard. You tried to brush it off, reminding yourself that you had no claim over Theodore, but the feeling lingered, refusing to be ignored.

After the game full of jealousy and anger at the loss of your team ,before you knew it, you were marching down the pitch towards him, determination fueling your steps. When you reached him, you grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn and face you.

"Well, well, what's got you charging at me like a Hippogriff on a rampage?" he asked with an annoying smirk, his eyes dancing with a sarcastic amusement.

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you found yourself blurting out the truth."Don't play dumb, Nott. I saw you eyeing that Slytherin girl during the match."

His smirk widened, and he leaned back slightly, as if reveling in your annoyance. "Oh, did you now? And here I thought you were too focused on your own team's loss to notice."

Sighs on frustration . "This isn't a joke, Theodore and dont try to change the subject what kind of player is flirting literally during the game huh."says pretending that the reason of this outburst is his "unethical"wink.

He shrugged nonchalantly, though you could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. "And what if I was? Are you jealous?"

You huffed, trying to mask the twinge of envy that gnawed at you. "N-! And what if i was?!" feeling the heat more and more with every passing minute.

Theodore's eyebrows shot up, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, you really are jealous! Wait, why would you be jealous?"

You scowled, shoving your hands into your pockets and avoiding his gaze."I'm not jea—" Before you could finish your sentence, Theodore's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him. Before you could protest, his lips crashed against yours in a sudden, passionate kiss.

Your eyes widened in surprise at first, but then you found yourself melting into the kiss, your hands instinctively finding their way to his chest. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his lips against yours and the rapid beating of your heart.

When Theodore finally pulled away, you were left breathless, your mind reeling from the sudden turn of events. He smirked down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"You don't have to be, you know." he said, his voice low and husky. "You know all this tention...there's this constant craving that I can't shake off. No matter how much I try to resist, you're the one I yearn for, the one I ache for in the depths of my soul. You're the temptation I can't resist, the desire that consumes me entirely."

You could only nod dumbly and look at hin in awe, still trying to process what had just happened. But as Theodore took your hand chuckling and led you away from the crowded pitch, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to this complicated relationship than you had ever imagined.

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buckyalpine · 1 year

Text

No thots, just -

Debauched. Filthy. What happens when your mafia husband thinks his sweet housewife doesn’t know how to take what she wants.

Warnings: SMUUTTT & Flufff, after care for our Bucky babie

You squirmed on the couch in Bucky’s office, watching your husband pace around the room, downing his drink before sending a few of his men off to check on an upcoming shipment. His sleeves were rolled up, the dark ink covering his skin on full display. You nearly whimpered, watching his jaw clench; nothing got you more flustered than watching Bucky frustrated and agitated.

It didn’t help that it had been ages since you got to spend time with him. Bucky’s full attention had been on new business deals, leaving you take care of yourself most nights and it wasn’t enough. You needed him. It wasn’t his fault; you knew what his line of work entailed. Still. You were growing needier by the second, wanting his attention, only to be denied each time because he was busy or exhausted.

Bucky felt awful, leaving you again for another night. He knew you missed spending time with him even if you never said anything. You’d taken to sitting in his office while he had meetings, just wanting to be in the same room as him; his pretty patient angel, so soft and loving. You never complained about him being busy, always so understanding.

Nothing compared to you.

“Angel?”

Bucky walked into the bedroom, surprised to find you wide awake, sitting against the headboard in one of his shirts. You set your book down, your eyes trailing down his body; a mix of emotions surging through your veins. You felt needy and desperate watching Bucky undo the top buttons of his shirt as he made his way towards you. You blinked, looking at the growing tightness in his pants, smelling the scent of his cologne as he sat beside you, his hand coming to cup your face.

“What’s wrong my pretty baby” Bucky cooed, disliking the pout on your face though he knew what was wrong. You shrugged, looking down at your freshly manicured nails. He’d promised to take you out during the week and of course, it never happened. “M’sorry I had to leave today. What would make you feel better princess”

Bucky pulled you into his lap, his nose nuzzling into your neck. He held you close to him, waiting for you to melt into his arms but your body remained tensed. “I’ll take a month off, we can go anywhere you want baby, just say where”

You shook your head, while he kissed your shoulder, his hands rubbing up and down your arms.

You needed more.

You craved him.

It had been weeks and your neediness was turning into a feral desire.

“I can take you shopping then?” He looked at you hopefully, but you shook your head again.

“I want to play” You whispered, peeking up at him through your lashes. Bucky blinked, surprised by your request, not that he’d ever argue against it.

“That’s what you want baby?” he looked into your eyes to make sure he understood correctly; you nodded, your sweet innocent eyes sparkling.

“Whatever my doll wants” He smirked, while you bit your lip, your body growing hotter; you straddled his lap, slinging your arms around his neck. One of his favorite things to do was take apart his angel over and over again, having you moaning and crying around his cock while he made you cum round after round. You were so beautiful and submissive for him, always such a good girl, his perfect little wife only an obedient slut for him.

He loved it.

He cocked his head, watching you squirm on the bed, not getting undressed for him as you usually did. Instead, your eyes raked up and down his body with unsatisfied hunger, too much time apart, you felt touch starved, desperate to take what you wanted.

“What is it princess” Bucky looked at you curiously when you reached up for his shirt, slowly removing the buttons with shaky fingers, usually he always stripped before tearing your clothes off, so what were you doing?

“I-

“Tell me baby” Bucky cocked his head watching you look at him with doe eyes, your lip caught between your teeth.

“Want to tie you, daddy” You whispered, gripping onto his shirt, pulling him closer to you. “Want to play my way”

Bucky’s breath hitched before he nodded, wondering what his sweet angel could possibly do, you had never taken control before. He smirked watched you strip the rest of his shirt off before working at the button of his pants.

“You sure about this angel, y’know I can make you feel so good baby, you don’t even have to lift a finger”

“No, just let me-” Your hands fumbled pulling his pants down, not willing to give into his teasing.

You had him spread out on the middle of the bed, before reaching over to the bedside table and cuffing his hands to the head board. He looked perfect; your handsome husband in his full naked glory, eyeing you up and down while you took. a step back to admire your work, a little smile playing at your lips. Bucky smirked as his cock stood tall and proud waiting for you to do what you wanted.

“Go ahead and use me baby”

Bucky watched you slowly crawl back up the bed, kneeling between his legs, a sweet pout on your lips.

Poor innocent doll, you wouldn’t even know where to start.

He was wrong.

So very wrong.

He’d awoken a monster.

You had edged yourself in front of him with your favorite vibrator pressed to your clit, dragging through your soaked folds, moaning and crying out while all he could do was watch. You were laid out across from him, your legs spread apart, head thrown back, pleasuring yourself to no end while all he could do was pathetically thrust his hips up into the air. His cock was leaking, the tip nearly purple from how hard he was.

“Doll…” Bucky groaned as you let out another high pitched moan, pulling the vibrator away just before your orgasm. The sheets were damp with your arousal, your creamy slick covering your inner thighs. “Sweet heart please…”

You made your way over to him, brining the toy to his lips, smearing your slick onto his mouth.

“Suck, daddy” You smiled while Bucky locked his eyes with you, his tongue darting out to lick your arousal clean. He moaned, his eyes nearly rolling back at your taste, sucking off every drop before you pulled it away. You turned it on again, trailing it down to his sensitive head; your heart raced at the way Bucky’s entire body jolted against the mattress, his arms tugging at his restraints, hips squirming and bucking from your ministrations.

“FUCK” Bucky’s head was thrown back, his chest heaving. “BABY, Princess, s’too sensitive-shit-s’too much baby”

“You said whatever I want daddy” You pouted, pressing the wand harder against his length, slowly raking it up and down his cock, making your way down to his sensitive balls. “You said I could use you”

“Fuck, gonna cum-yes-gonna cum” Bucky hissed through his teeth as you pressed it harder against him, watching him throb, pulling away right before his cock burst. He let out a frustrated groan, his eyes squeezed shut. You loved the way his skin was flushed, sweat starting to bead at his forehead.

You’d only started.

You kneeled between his legs, taking his swollen, leaky tip into your mouth, swirling and sucking him for all his was worth. His eyes growing wide when you slapped the side of his thigh as soon as he tried to fuck your mouth.

“Stay still daddy”

Any other day, he would have relished seeing you like this but today it was too much. His pretty slutty baby, edging him to no end, his cock in her mouth while she sucked his soul, not giving him one release. Bucky couldn’t take it, even when you were in control you sounded so sweet and innocent but you were clearly everything but that. You gathered his pre cum on your tongue, humming at his taste before straddling him, bringing your lips to brush against his.

“Taste yourself” You whispered before smashing your lips against his, your tongue coated with his arousal dripping onto his tongue. “Don’t you taste good baby?” You giggled, crawling back down to swipe your tongue across his slit once more and kissing him deeply again. Bucky moaned, tasting himself on your lips but what got him off more was how filthy you were.

You grabbed his cock, giving him a few tugs, working him up to another orgasm before squeezing the base of his shaft, stopping his climax. You tutted, feeling his hips try to rut in your hand to chase some type of friction.

“Baby girl pl-” You gently slapped his cheek, immediately stopping his movement, innocently shaking your head in disapproval. “Angel, pleasepleaseplease”

“What’s wrong daddy”

“Baby, let me cum, I wanna cum”

You giggled, giving him a shrug before your demeanor shifted, your eyes boring into his.

“Hold it”

You straddled him, lining up your soaked cunt with his cock, slowly sinking down on him. Bucky’s mind was reeling, the feeling of your warm wet silky walls was too much, he was sure he was going to blow his load before you even started to move.

“Don’t cum until I tell you to” You leaned down to press a soft kiss onto his nose before your hands gripped onto the headboard to give you enough leverage. You slammed your hips down on him, your pussy swallowing his entire length, moaning while you fucked yourself on his cock.

“OH FUCKK Y/N” His voice bounced off the walls, his orgasm already licking up his spine, precum spurting from the tip of his cock as he tried to hold off. You rode him faster, clenching each time you rose up, choking his sensitive cockhead till he was nearly crying. “ANGEL IM-IM GONNA BLOW-”

“Not yet” You moaned out, bringing your hand to your clit, rubbing tight fast circles on yourself while Bucky forced his eyes open, letting out deep gutteral moans watching you play with yourself.

“Oh God you look so fuckin’ pretty baby, you’re so pretty like this, fuck me-y/n-sweet girl-I-I’m gonna bust baby, I can’t, I can’t-

“M’not done with you yet daddy” You whined out, fucking yourself on his rock hard cock, getting off his voice growing needier, “Gonna make a mess all over you first daddy-AH” Your head was thrown back as you started to cum around his cock, your juices making the dark hair at the base of his cock a white creamy mess.

Bucky gritted his teeth feeling your cunt clench and squeeze his length, helping you ride your orgasm out without completely blowing his load and filling you up. Just as he thought you were going to grant him his orgasm, you pulled yourself off him, letting his painfully hard length slap against his tummy.

“Wait, please, baby, I-”

“You remember your colours?” You asked sweetly while Bucky’s eyes grew wide with anticipation. He nodded while you kneeled between his thighs again, spreading them wide apart.

“An-angel” Bucky’s breath hitched as soon s he felt your soft fingers press against his tight ring of muscle, immediately clenching out of instinct, no one had ever touched him there before.

“You always play with my special spot” You looked at him innocently, rubbing your fingers around his hole, your other hand softly caressing his thigh, “Why can’t I play with daddy’s special spot too”

“My-my-” Bucky stuttered while you cooed, applying a little more pressure to his entrance.

“Daddy’s sensitive special spot-” You pressed slightly, making his eyes roll back, “Right here. Breathe daddy, I’ll stop if you don’t want it”

Bucky was already lost in how good the slight pressure felt, craving for more of your sweet torture.

“Keep going”

“Just relax for me daddy” You whispered, gently letting your finger slip in to the first knuckle, pausing before pushing a bit more. “Color?”

“Green angel, green, green, Oh-oh f-fuck” His abs tensed while he cock started to leak on his abs, “Don’t stop pretty girl, makin’ daddy feel so good” His voice started to slur as you started to drag your finger in and out, slowly adding another. You pumped your fingers as far as they would go, curling them up to massage against his walls.

“Is it right there daddy?” You moaned with him while his back arched off the bed, vision going white from pleasure feeling you press against his prostate. “Daddy’s special spot?”

“FUCK-oh god baby, it-fuck its sensitive there, M’gonna-fuck sweet, I’ll cum without you even touching me, what the hell-” His moans grew louder, jaw slack, chest heaving harder as you started to move faster, the sensation overwhelming when you stretched him open. “HARDER ANGEL-fuck yes right there right there- please- more baby, touch me there, yesyesyesfuck-YES”

You squeezed your thighs together watching your husband fall apart, reaching for the vibrator and holding it to your clit, your second orgasm building in your belly while Bucky couldn’t hold off any longer.

“I’m gonna cum, gonna cum ‘round your fingers baby, cock is gonna bow, I- HNGGG - MOTHER FUC-UHHGGGG OH GOD” Cum burst out of his swollen head, silky ropes shooting up to his chest and chin, a few streams falling on his lips. “HNGG ANGEL” His head was thrown back on the pillow as more cum throbbed out, the sight of him losing it bringing your second orgasm crashing down.

“You look so pretty daddy!” You whined out, shivering at the after shocks of your high while he continued to clench around your fingers, a needy whimper slipping past his lips.

“S-sensitive angel” He slurred, hissing when you pulled out, softly massaging the area after.

“You made a mess Jamie” You pressed a soft kiss to his softening cock, smiling at the whimper that he let out.

“Clean me up angel, please?” He was too exhausted to move, closing his eyes while you licked up his body, letting your tongue slip into his mouth, giving him another taste of his cream.

Bucky moaned against your lips while you uncuffed him, his hands falling to his sides, whining when you pulled away.

“Where you going” He pouted while you kissed his forehead, leaving to grab a warm damp washcloth to wipe him down with.

“Gonna clean you up baby” you were careful, touching him gently, wiping around his sensitive cock, and up his body, tossing the towel to the side with plenty of kisses in between. Bucky blushed at the feeling, loving the way you were so careful with his body, loving every inch of it with your soft hands and lips.

It was usually him taking care of you; he didn’t realize how much he’d love being taken care of like this. You cradled his exhausted body close to yours, kissing his temple and rubbing his back while he nuzzled his face into your chest.

“My angel takin’ care of me” He smiled against your skin, letting you baby him while he closed his eyes, feeling your soft lips all over him, pulling the sheets over you both.

“My Jamie” You played with his hair till he fell asleep, giggling at the way he clung onto you, curled up and snoring softly, his body drained. You fell asleep with him, happy to finally have him in your arms. Bucky stirred awake, kissing up your neck, his hands trailing between your bodies, easing his fingers between your legs.

“Time to play with your special spot angel”

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year

Text

Vintage T-Shirt

➪the one where you and ethan make out for the first time. (requested)

Warnings: 18+, grinding, making out, needy ethan, lowkey sub ethan, experienced reader, inexperienced ethan

Word Count: 1.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

“What did you get for number three?”

When Ethan’s answer never came, you glance up from your book and look over at him, noting the way his eyes were glued to your chest. One corner of your mouth turns upwards and you sit up straighter.

“Hey,” you get his attention by snapping your fingers. “My eyes are up here.”

Ethan’s eyes immediately leave your body and he shakes his head quickly, not noticing the pencil as it fell from his fingers. “No, I wasn’t-I didn’t-” he stuttered and you laughed, making his cheeks heat up and tint pink. “I didn’t mean to stare. You just look really hot in my shirt.”

You look down at his words, glancing at the oversized shirt that covered your upper half. It was a faded green with some old car on it and there were various holes in the fabric, revealing the skin of your stomach. “Really?” You ask and look back up at him.

He hummed, leaning over from his spot at the end of the bed. “C’mere,” he said quietly and you obliged, moving towards him while being unsure of what he wanted. When he attempted to close the distance completely and press his lips to yours, you quickly pulled back and gave him a look of surprise.

“What are you doing?”

The question caught him off guard, clearly, as he also moved to sit up straighter. “Um,” he trailed off, grabbing the pencil that rolled off the open book that was sitting on his lap. “I was just trying to kiss my girlfriend.”

You raise a brow at him and further confuse the poor boy.

“Am I not allowed to do that anymore?”

Laughing, you shake your head and pick up your pen. “Not when we have exams we need to study for,” you state as if it was obvious. And to you it was. You have always taken school seriously and studied more than necessary, something Ethan had never done in his life. When Ethan makes no move to resume studying, you glance up at him and meet his shocked expression. “Come on. There’s time for that later.”

At your promise, Ethan finally took his eyes off you and sloppily wrote down random numbers and words. “I got Magnesium Oxide,” he answered your question from earlier, making you look over your own writing.

You grin when you look back at him. “Me too,”

“Awesome,” he said, tossing the pencil aside with one hand and closing the book with the other. “Now come here.”

Before you could register his words, he was leaning in once again. This time he successfully closed the gap and pressed his lips to yours. You keep your eyes open in surprise as you kiss back for a few seconds before pulling away. “Now that it’s out of your system,” you begin and Ethan groans out, leaning on his elbow as he stares up at you. “Can we get back to this?”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Fuck, are you ever determined,” he muttered, making no move sit back up. “Baby, I’m bored.” The last word was elongated, making your eyes roll and your head shake.

“We can kiss all you want when we’re done,”

Ethan sighed, pressing a kiss to the skin of your knee, your decision to wear shorts making his want for you grow even stronger. “Please,” he resorted to begging you to pay attention to him, and he did so shamelessly. “Just for a bit, then we can go back to studying. I promise.”

You chew on your bottom lip, something Ethan withholds a groan at, and twirl the pen between your fingers. “Fuck it,” you give up and give in, dropping the pen onto the book and tossing it off your lap. “If it’ll help you focus.”

Ethan grinned, leaning up to kiss you again. You meet him halfway, bending down rather uncomfortably to connect your lips. You stay like that for only a few seconds before you could already feel a stiff neck coming on.

Gripping his shoulders, you push him back so he is lying down and straddle his lap. His hands grab your waist while yours caress the sides of his face, turning his head just slightly for a better angle. He was letting you take full control of the situation as he never did anything like this before he met you a mere four months ago.

Not wanting to surprise him too much, you swiped your tongue against his upper lip and he had enough knowledge to know what that meant as he parted his lips and encouraged you to deepen the kiss.

Ethan’s hand slid up your body, bunching your shirt up as they did so. With your skin now exposed to him, he couldn’t help but let his fingers trail all over your lower back. Seeing as this was your first time making out together (and his first time in general), it was easy to get caught up in the moment and get carried away.

That was proven true when his hands slid into the back pockets of your shorts and pulled you closer so your body was pressed against his completely. Deciding to tease him a bit, you grind your hips down on his, expecting him to pull away with a heated face and embarrassed eyes.

He did almost the exact opposite.

He whined against your mouth, making your eyes open in surprise and you pulled away to look at him. You didn’t get the chance to see his face as he immediately pressed his lips to your neck, sucking marks into your skin while his hands pulled you even closer when they gripped your waist again. “Ethan,” you trail off, your eyes closing again as he continues to place a multitude of kisses against your skin.

You assumed that this was as far as things would go, so you allowed yourself to get swept away again as his mouth descended to your shoulder, where the shirt had slipped off because it was so big on you.

Rocking your hips against his again, Ethan whimpered against your skin, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled back. “Fuck, I want you so bad,” he mumbled. You refrained from pulling away and stopping it from going any further, instead letting him have his way with you. Until you heard his next words. “Want you to fuck me.”

Your eyes shot open and you pulled away. Ethan’s lips chased after you but soon gave up when you placed your hands flat against his chest and pushed his body back down. “What?” You ask, trying to get your breath back as you sit up.

Ethan kept his hands on your waist, keeping you from getting off him completely, and whined at the loss of contact from your mouth. “Please,” he begged and whined even further when you shook your head. “Why not?”

“Because,” you answer and lean down to place a final kiss to his lips before moving off of him. “I want our first time to be special. You know, not in the middle of what was supposed to be a study date.”

Ethan sat up and pouted, making you laugh quietly and reach over to wipe at his mouth. His lips were kiss swollen and his eyes were blown wide. You quickly decided it was probably the hottest sight you had ever seen.

You look away from him and clear your throat, picking up the pen again. “Come on,” you say and glance at him when he grumpily grabs the book and his pencil from off the floor.

“Tease,” he muttered as he began writing down more chemical equations.

You shake your head and lean over, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek and effectively wiping off the sour look on his face by doing so.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #scream 6 ethan #ethan scream 6 #scream 6 imagines #scream 6 x reader #scream 6

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eelnoise · 1 year

Text

caveat

zoro x afab reader

c/w: choking, slight cum play, praise, use of the word 'slut', oral sex (both giving and receiving), unprotected sex, soft!zoro, slightly possessive zoro

a/n: i put my whole pussy into this because i'm so biblically down bad for this man. someday i'll figure out how best to format my fics but until then please take this sloppy setup

word count: 2849

Zoro prefers you close. He prefers to see you, to hear you. Hell, even just knowing you’re in a room with him is enough - provided you’re in his vicinity. Much like his swords, you’re precious to him. He needs to protect and care for you, to keep you pristine and without blemish.

And just like his blades, you’re nearly always at his side.

You don’t mind at all. You’re sated to indulge in what you know means a lot to Zoro, so you find yourself in the training room alongside him, curled up on a bench with a book open in your lap.

This quality time usually comes with a caveat - Zoro’s inexplicable and hungry arousal after a workout.

Zoro doesn't notice the shift in his body, the way his heart pounds in his chest, or the way his cock hardens against his thigh. He's too focused on his training, too absorbed in the rhythm of his breathing and the burn in his muscles.

Of course, when Zoro's attention turns away from his own breathlessness and toward the source of his arousal. His eyes lock onto you, taking note of the book in your lap and wondering how long until you set it aside for something else. Something naughtier. His gaze holds for several long moments before Zoro finally breaks the silence.

"You know," he says gruffly, voice roughened by exertion, "it might help if you stopped pretending to read that damn book." His tone is teasing but there's an undercurrent of desire in his words - a clear indication that he wants nothing more than to see you put down those pages and come crawling to him instead.

You look over at him and tilt your head in interest. "Pretending?" You reply, a bemused look etched onto your face. "And why would I be doing that?"

Zoro smirks, his teeth flashing white against the backdrop of his tan skin. "Oh, we both know you haven't turned a page for a while," he says casually, leaning back on the weightlifting bench with nonchalance. "What's the matter? Lost in thought?"

Damn him and his observation haki.

He pauses, letting his gaze drift down to the curve of your breasts before snapping it back up again. "Or maybe you just enjoy watching me sweat." A slow grin spreads across his features as he waits for a response, anticipation coiling tightly within him.

Your guilt is plastered upon your face at his words and a warmth that hadn't been there prior now washes over your cheeks. You'd been caught staring, and staring at him while he's this horny was not exactly the wisest decision. The flustered expression you give him makes his cock twitch almost painfully.

"Fine." You admit, closing the book and placing it to the side. "I was watching. So what?"

Zoro's smirk grows wider at your admission, a dark and predatory gleam lighting up his eyes. "So what?" he echoes, voice low and throaty. "Well, since you asked..."

Without further warning, Zoro pushes himself off the weightlifting bench, his muscular form moving with surprising grace and fluidity. In a single, almost impetuous motion, he's on his feet before you, towering over with his intimidating presence. His hand reaches out, fingers curling gently around your chin as he tilts your head back to meet his gaze. "I think it's time we found out just how much you like watching me sweat." Zoro says, his voice now little more than a rough whisper.

With that, he descends upon you, his lips crashing down onto yours in a possessive, hungry kiss. His tongue darts out to claim your mouth, demanding entry as he presses his hardened length against your soft stomach.

You allow him entry, tongues quickly meeting in a lustrous dance. You taste even better when he's this worked up, and he wasn't about to take it for granted. At the sound of a soft mewl from your lips between breathless, wet kisses, Zoro has to fight the urge to take you there and then.

No. He wants to savor this, to savor you.

The sound of your arousal sends a shiver down Zoro's spine, fueling the fire burning deep within him. He moans low in his throat, his hand sliding up your back to grasp at your hair, pulling gently on those silken strands.

Without breaking the kiss, Zoro steps back, drawing you along with him. His other hand reaches down, grabbing at the hem of your shirt and pulling it upwards in one swift motion. The fabric rides over your head, revealing the skin of your torso. His eyes drink in the sight of your smooth soft stomach, hardened nipples peeking through your bra clearly visible even beneath the thin material.

A growl rumbles low in his throat as he trails his fingers lightly over your skin, tracing lazy patterns that send shivers down your spine. "You're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire. "And all mine."

"Yeah?" You coo, your sultry tone undeniable. "You want this pretty girl to scream your name?" You know that you're in no position to ask this question, simply teasing him is enough to drive him fucking crazy when he's this rabid for you. And the more you do it, the harder he'll fuck you.

But he isn't in the mood for your game this time. As far as Zoro is concerned he's going to fuck you until you can't see straight anyway.

"You already know the answer to that question." Zoro growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against your skin. With that, he spins you around, taking a seat on the bench in your stead. His hands slide down your hips, tracing slow circles as he teases the fabric of your panties. "On your knees," he commands, his voice a dark rasp.

Zoro's heart is racing now, his blood pounding in his ears as he watches you comply, deliciously delicate form kneeling before him. You look up at him through your lashes, a challenging glint in your eyes that does nothing to dampen his arousal.

"Spread your legs," He demands, the rough tone of his voice alone causes you to sigh in arousal. "Show me how much you want this."

You do as you're told, spreading your thighs and pulling your panties to the side, glistening pussy on display and offering yourself to him. "Mmm," You purr, gaze glassed over with lust. "Wanna make you feel so good, baby."

Zoro watches each word leave you in slow motion, transfixed on how each syllable curls off your pretty lips. Before he can think, he's freeing himself from the confines of his shorts and letting his thick, desperate cock fall right into your face.

Zoro groans deeply, his hips jerking forward as he feels the heat of your breath against his engorged shaft. It takes every ounce of self-control he has not to come right then and there, your eager anticipation driving him wild.

He watches, his heart pounding in his chest, as you lower your head and take him into your mouth. Your lips slide smoothly over the head of his cock, sending a shiver of pleasure coursing through his entire body. Zoro's hands come to rest on your shoulders, his grip firm but not quite enough to hold you in place.

"Fuck," he breathes, his voice ragged with desire. "You're so good at this."

With that, he pushes gently against your head, urging you to take more of him. Zoro watches as you obediently open your mouth wider, taking him deeper into your throat. Wet, sloppy sounds echo around the room, fueling his lust even further.

"That's it, baby," he growls, his hips starting to rock gently against your face. "Sucking me so well like the good little slut you are."

Your eyes don't leave his, even as you bob your head up and down, each pleased groan of pleasure or soft words of praise sending out a pang of arousal right to your desperate, weeping pussy. You run your tongue flat against the underside of his length and swirl it around the tip. The mix of saliva and pre-cum coats your busy lips and drips down both your chin and his cock.

He allows for you to pull back for a moment to take a breath, long strands of fluids attaching your mouth to his cock. It's just a moment, though, for as soon as you've recovered he forces your head back down onto him with a forceful motion. You gag around him from the sudden filling of your throat, but he loves the sound.

"Fuck," he breathes out, tangling his fist into your hair and beginning to move your head at his own pace. "Gonna let me cum on that face, right baby?"

"Mhmmm~" You hum, making his dick vibrate from the tone. He grunts in reply, shoving your head right against his pelvis, nose buried in moss green hair as the back of your throat is hit over and over again. Zoro's free hand moves to the front of your neck, grasping it tightly to feel the outline of his cock rut into your warm, slick mouth.

Tears beat at the corners of your eyes and your fingers dig into his thighs as he nears his release. Zoro's hold tightens around you, his soft grunts of pleasure having turned into louder, filthier moans.

Suddenly, he pulls your lips from him with a wet pop and a whine. He holds you in place by your hair - pressing his cock tip to your swollen bottom lip, and instinctively you lull your tongue out against it.

"Shit," Zoro hisses out when you plant a series of open-mouth kisses on it, quickly moving to pump himself with his other hand. "You want my cum in your mouth?"

"Please," you whine, throat a little rasp from how greedily he had face fucked you. "Wanna taste you; need you on my tongue~"

Your words send him over the edge. Zoro tugs at your hair tightly as long, drawn out, and slightly whimpered moans fall from his lips. Thick, white ropes of his spend coat your face and tongue while his hips slowly grind out his high. You, without question, swallow the pool of his seed in your mouth.

"Fuck, baby," Zoro growls, rubbing in the cum on your lips with the head of his dick. "You look so good painted in my cum." He leans forward, releasing his grip on your head, eye taking in your used, messy appearance as if committing it to memory.

Zoro snatches you up then, grabbing you by the hands and swapping your positions so that you’re now sitting on the bench. "Lean back," he demands, tone gruff and low as he hovers over you. "Show me that pretty pussy."

You oblige, of course, leaning on your lower back and spreading your legs open to him like a gift before sliding your panties down, leaving them hooked around your ankle. Zoro grabs onto your thighs with large, calloused hands and spreads your pussy lips open with his thumbs. Without warning he lunges forward, capturing your clit in his mouth with a hungry moan.

He's devouring you, eating you like he would a peach. Zoro slurps your clit loudly and inches two fingers inside your soaked folds. "Fuck!" You cry out, your own digits teasing your nipples. "Feels so good, Zoro~"

His mouth works over you so fucking good that you're already on the precipice of your release. He's flicking his tongue and lapping at your sensitive flesh, your hips buck forward along his lips, coating them in your wetness. Zoro groans against you, vibrating your soaked folds and thrusting his fingers deep within you, curling them so deliciously against your g-spot.

"You like this?" He grunts, taking your cunt-flavored juices greedily. "Tell me what you want."

"Wanna cum!" You sputter out, voice rasp and quivering. "Wanna cum so bad, please…" You're begging. Desperate cries for your sweet release ring in his ears and he absolutely loves it.

Zoro drills his digits into you harder, feeling just how your inner walls flutter around them. "Gonna make you cum, baby." He growls, taking your moans as encouragement. With a series of hard sucks to your clit, you come undone. A sharp, high-pitched scream emits from your throat, body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

"Fuck," Zoro says, pulling away from your pussy and leaning over your sweaty, heaving form. "So fucking pretty." He reaches forward, using the fingers that had been deep in your cunt to wipe some of his leftover cum from your cheek before sliding the digits into your open, willing mouth and forcing the taste of you both onto your tongue. You suck on his fingers, licking them clean.

Then, with one sudden move, his lips are on yours in a fiery, passionate kiss. Zoro doesn't care about the leftover cum smeared across your soft lips, and you don't care about the taste of yourself on his. The kiss is messy, it's sloppy and it's full of teeth and tongue, but as long as you're tethered to him, as he's bound to you, nothing else seems to matter.

Zoro breaks the kiss, but his lips rest just on top of yours. "Think you're ready for my cock now, baby?" He asks, though he knows the answer and you know just how hard he's about to fuck you.

"Fuck," You sputter out, feeling his dick twitch against your slit. "So ready. Need you to fuck me so badly~" Your words are weak, and your voice is raspy, but the look on your face tells him that you're genuine. Genuine and ready for him to fill you.

Zoro smirks, his eye gleaming with lust. "Then take it." He says roughly, shoving his thick cock into you with one quick motion. You gasp, body arching off the bench as he buries himself into your pussy to the hilt. "So fucking tight." Zoro hisses, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to move, thrusting his hips forward in a steady rhythm that has you crying and clawing at him in absolute ecstasy.

Large hands dig into your hips - and you already know that by the end of this, you'll be marked with ten fingertip-sized bruises. Zoro's movements become more frantic, his growls and low grunts of pleasure meeting your salacious cries and whimpers in a cacophony of your entwining lust. Your pussy milks his cock and it makes his eyes roll back into his head with how fucking good you feel, how warm and tight you are around him, how perfect you are.

Zoro grits his teeth, jaw tensing in an attempt to avoid cumming too quickly. But it's hard, so, so hard to not let go and fill you with his seed like the good little cumdump that you are. He picks up speed, forgoing whatever rhythm he had going as he loses himself in the sensation of fucking you.

The tip of his cock hits your cervix hard, each slam of his hips into yours making you see stars. "Zorooooo~~~" you wail, completely cock-drunk with a glazed-over expression. His heavy balls slap against your ass and echo throughout the room as he drills himself into you at a nigh inhuman pace.

The only word left in your vocabulary seems to just be his name, judging by the jumbled, quavering mantra of disjointed syllables that fall from your swollen lips. He can't take it any longer. The way you're calling for him, crying his name over and over as he bottoms out in you without mercy - it's all too much. "Fuck!" Zoro hisses, his death grip on your hips somehow tightening. "Gonna fucking cum, baby. Gonna cum right inside your tight little pussy."

You feel his muscles tense, and with a loud cry of your own name as a warning, Zoro erupts into you, head thrown backward and hips jerking violently while his cock throbs and fills your pussy to the brim with cum - so much that it surprises you.

"Fuck." Zoro pants, collapsing onto you as his chest heaves from exertion. He presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead, heart racing from the intensity of their intimacy. "So good."

As you catch your breath, you hold him close. Both of your chests are flush together, and you swear that you can feel his heartbeat. Arms wrap around his broad shoulders, one of your hands slipping into his hair to gently caress his scalp in a comforting way. Zoro hums in satisfaction as your soothing embrace works wonders for both his mind and aching body.

“Thank you.” Zoro breathes softly into the crook of your neck, his voice barely higher than a whisper. He knows he doesn’t need to thank you, but he wants to. You kiss the top of his head and smile.

“Zoro,” You begin, your voice soft and sweet. “I love you.”

He looks up at you then, one slate-gray eye shining with affection. He smiles.

“I love you, too.”

#one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro smut #one piece x reader smut #zoro x reader #ronoroa zoro #opla

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

We have whimsical reader in marauders

We need one with tasm peter

Oorrrr

Can you imagine (or make) a witch/wizard reader with tasm peter!!???

Thanks for requesting love!

tasm!Peter Parker x whimsical!reader ♡ 679 words

Peter comes in through the window, more out of habit than anything else now that he’s not hiding anything from you, but you don’t startle. You’re sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the floor in front of the couch, flipping through what looks like his old physics textbook.

“Baby,” he says, “why was there an apple on the fire escape again?”

“It was still there?” You look up, disappointed to find a whole apple in your boyfriend’s hand. “I thought Ricardo would’ve gotten to it by now. I hope he’s okay.”

Peter scoffs, going into the kitchen to wash the apple and put it away. He scrubs it extra hard just in case the raccoon you’re set on befriending did get his grubby paws on it.

“Ricardo can eat without your help,” he says. “He’s hardy, he’s from Brooklyn.”

“I know,” you sigh, “but apples are his favorite.”

Peter’s eyes narrow, but you’re not looking, your attention on something in the book. “How do you know that?”

“He’ll let me pet him while he’s eating apples.”

He sighs, leaning his forearms on the counter. He’s going to have to find a way to move that raccoon to another neighborhood the next time he goes out. Before it gives you rabies.

“What’re you doing over there?” he asks you.

“Pressing flowers.”

“Yeah?” Peter rounds the counter, moving behind you to sit on the couch. His knees bracket your shoulders. The A/C is blasting to combat the summer heat, and goosebumps prickle down your arms. “What for?”

“I was thinking May could bring them to work,” you say, flattening a dandelion between two pieces of wax paper. The movements are deft and routined, and Peter wonders how many flowers are already enclosed between the pages. There’s a small pile of them sitting next to you, miraculously intact despite the fragile puffs. “She was telling me about some of the kids she works with last week. I thought they might like to have them.” You shrug. “For bookmarks or whatever.”

Peter’s insides go melty soft. “I’m sure they would.” He leans forward, setting his hand on your shoulder and his lips to your head. You only keep working. Sometimes Peter feels like a weird rock or a feather that you’d picked up somewhere, put in your pocket without a second thought. But you do love your rocks and feathers, so it’s not an awful fate. “Where’d you get these, sweetheart?”

“I found them,” you say simply. “Parks, sidewalks, you know. They grow anywhere. Do you think I should save a few in case they want to make wishes instead of keeping them?”

It’s said so seriously Peter can’t help but grin, turning so his cheek smushes into the crown of your head. “That seems like a good idea. Mind if I use one?”

“Of course.” You sound surprised. “Use as many as you want, Peter. I can always get more.”

“Just one is good.”

He slides off of the couch, sitting beside you and picking up a dandelion. He waits until you’re looking over at him before blowing.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the seeds rush towards you. Peter’s close enough that they get stuck in your eyelashes and eyebrows, a couple in your hair. His breath weakens as he starts laughing, the last few seeds coming off the flower by way of little puffs of air.

“You don’t have to blow it at someone,” you say, lips stretching into a pretty smile. You blink cautiously, opening your eyes once no dandelion fluff falls in.

He lowers the stem. “I just wanted to make sure my wish went in the right direction.”

Your head tilts. “What’d you wish for?”

Peter combs a bit of white fluff out of your hair, grinning. “C’mon, baby,” he tsks, shifting his fingers to your jaw. You’re pliant to the touch, angling your head at the slightest cue from him. You keep your eyes open, curious, but your lips are soft against his. “You know that’s not how it works. I’ve still gotta make sure it comes true.”

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thewordypeach · 2 years

Text

Cherry Waves

pairing: Paul Atreides x fem!reader word count: 9.2k warnings: fluffy smut. virginity. oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, vague mention of dom/sub, breeding kink?!?!?, etc. chubby reader, no use of y/n (however your name is daisy lol) summary: you consummate the arranged marriage to your new husband, paul atreides. author's note: this is my second story that i am posting! i've been working on this one for awhile now... absolutely adore Paul Atreides and Dune. watched both movies like 5 times and just finished up the book! waiting for the next one from the library :) also Timothée's hair in this film is just ungodly and totally unfair - like i don't know if i want to be his hair or have it?? anyways, it's fluff with smut or smut with fluff??? its cute and dirty. that is all. thank you for reading!!!!! addendum: 05/04/23 - this is picking up reads because of Dune 2 promo and i just wanted to let you know that it's poorly edited, and a sequel will be coming soon.

For the first time since you landed on Caladan, the rain has finally stopped. And for the first time since you arrived, you are completely alone with him. Your husband. You haven’t spoken more than two words to him; you’ve been nothing but frightened for the last week, afraid of your new life on this new planet. You know you are going to have to accept this new life because you have no other choice. The other thing you are going to have to accept is him.

Paul Atreides.

You watch as he kneels before a delicate blossom, eyes fixed upon the intricate folds and hues of its magenta petals. His once sharp features have softened, the angles smoothed into an expression of wonder and reverence. You’ve seen this look of his before but can’t seem to place it. His slender fingers reach out and touch the velvety surface of the flower as if he were under its spell. His dark hair, wild and unkept, falls in loose waves around his face.

While you can’t help but notice how breathtakingly handsome Paul is, it’s not his looks that initially drew you in, but rather it is his quiet intensity that captivated your attention. He turns and his green orbs take a quick scan of you. His eyes have always held a depth of knowledge and experience far beyond his years, and even now as he observes you, he knows something you don’t.

“The flowers on Caladan are a wonder to behold,” He says tepidly, almost as if he’s afraid of scaring you away. He knows you’ve been on edge the last few days, practically jumping out of your skin every time he speaks to you. He straightens, his lean frame moving gracefully as he strides toward you. “Each one is so unique, with its own fragrance and beauty. Some are delicate and sweet, like the jasmine that grows near the waterfalls, while others are bold and robust, like the wild roses that climb the cliffs.”

You are frozen in place, knees trembling beneath your skirt. Paul stops when he is in front of you, his body mere inches away. Those eyes of his, perfectly green like the forest that surrounds the two of you, sparkle with reverence. He’s been in disbelief at how strikingly beautiful you are and how you don’t even realize it. The thought of you not knowing your strength or beauty brings a sadness to him that he can’t shake; it brings forth a determination to help you see and understand your true worth.

Gently, he raises his hand and touches a finger to your temple, sweeping away a piece of black hair. Underneath the light, the strands of hair shimmer with a blue hue. He moves his attention back to your face, “Caladan didn’t have daisies until you,”

When it comes to you, Paul can’t help but be tender. He knows you’ve been through so much. He sees the turmoil etched upon your face; Paul is afraid your sadness and fright will be permanent, and he does not want to go forward if you are intimidated by him. The corners of his lips pull down, shaking as he confronts you, “I… I know that you are scared of me, Daisy,”

Your throat tightens. You aren’t scared of Paul but rather, you are scared of what lies ahead in your future with him. He’s the son of Duke Leto Atreides; Paul has responsibilities that you never dreamed of. Folding your arms around your body, you swallow dryly and think of what to say with careful consideration because you can tell that Paul is growing frustrated with your lack of reciprocity.

“My lord,” The way you regard him by his formal title makes his chest constrict. He does not want such formalities when it’s just the two of you but he bites back the urge to correct you. He impatiently awaits the rest of your words. Your eyes cast downward, afraid to look him in the eye as you confess, “I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of the responsibilities that come with being your wife. I do not want to burden House Atreides.”

Concern floods Paul’s face and he is quick to shake his head. His brow knits together and he rushes to speak, the words tumbling out before he can think about what he’s saying, “Daisy, you need to understand that I didn’t choose this life either -”

He stops and inhales deeply to calm himself. Paul takes a step closer and the gap between your bodies narrows. Immediately, you can’t help but notice how his scent is a tantalizing combination of rain and a woody floral. It makes you think of safety. Paul drops his voice to a whisper, “I have responsibilities to House Atreides that I can’t simply ignore. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or that I won’t do everything in my power to protect you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Your voice shakes with emotion. This isn’t how you address nobility but damn Paul’s title. His status brings forth an apprehension that claws inside your already rattled heart. You have known each other for less than ten days and yet here he is, declaring protection with everything he has. However, despite his best effort you still feel like a burden. He’s too young to feel like this - he has his entire life ahead of him and now? He has a wife to take care of. Your eyes snap up and you breathe out, “You shouldn’t have to deal with this, any of this…”

Paul studies your face, sensing your doubts and your burdens. Your eyes remain clouded with fear and melancholy. Oh, how Paul yearns to alleviate your concerns and set your mind at ease, but he feels helpless in doing so. His father never taught him how to be a loving husband; Paul is only schooled in politics and the responsibilities of a Duke. Navigating the complexity of matrimony has never been part of his training.

“I understand that this might be difficult for you to understand,” He cups your face and caresses your cheek with his thumb. Paul realizes this is the most affectionate he’s ever been with someone and it breaks his heart knowing this is the first time you are on the receiving end. He silently vows to give you all the love he has. As he speaks, warmth radiates off his words, “You are not a burden, and you will never be a burden to me because we are in this together, Daisy. You are my family now. I promise we will figure this out, together.”

Tears swell in your eyes, “I’m sorry, m’lord -”

“Daisy,” He sharply cuts you off, “You don’t have to apologize - none of this is your fault, okay?”

Paul leans his forehead against yours, “We are a team now. You are my wife and I will do everything I can to protect you.”

You close your eyes, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. Paul is quick to wipe them away and much to your surprise, he kisses each of your eyelids. Your hands cling to his waist, suddenly desperate to keep him close. Paul notices the change and feels your urgency as if you are afraid of him slipping away. He responds by planting butterfly kisses on every inch of skin he can reach. More tears crash down and Paul sweeps them away. You can’t help but giggle at the valiant effort that your husband is making to make you feel better.

The sound of your giggle makes Paul giddy and it causes his stomach to flip. He’s never felt like this before. His lips stretch into a smile as he continues to assault your beautiful face with endless amounts of affection. Paul stops for a brief moment, pulling away to see how your face has brightened. You look like sunshine now and it leaves him breathless.

Your eyes flutter open, wanting to see why your husband has stopped. Paul is peering at you with so much love and admiration that it makes your breath hitch inside your chest. You have never felt so safe and so adored. A look flickers across his verdant eyes and before you can say anything, Paul captures your lips with his.

Technically, this is not the first time he has kissed you but this kiss is exceptionally better than the one you were forced to share at the ceremony. This kiss felt natural and it felt right. There is a certain innocence to how he is applying soft pressure against your lips. Almost as if he’s afraid of breaking you. You want more, no, you need more. You can’t get enough and truth be told, neither can Paul. A desire ignites inside him and his stomach coils as something stirs inside his pants -

“Paul!”

The interruption causes you to jump but for Paul, the interruption of Gurney Halleck angers him. You are blushing at being caught in a compromising position, hiding your face against Paul’s chest as the future Duke turns to the weapon teacher. Annoyed, Paul scowls at the smirk on Gurney’s face. Gurney didn’t think Paul had it in him because truthfully, Gurney didn’t support the arranged marriage; he had his own misgivings and predictions about you. But upon seeing this revelation, Gurney’s opinion swiftly changed.

“My apologies for the interruption,” Gurney clears his throat, “My lord, may I remind you that your weapon’s master doesn’t like to be kept waiting…”

Paul glares at Gurney before turning his attention back to you, his face softening into that of a lovesick puppy. Your face is still pressing into his chest. Gently, he lifts your head and sweetly kisses your cheek, murmuring, “I will see you later, okay?”

Unwillingly, Paul tears himself away from you and stalks toward Gurney who is patiently waiting by the edge of the garden. Gurney, having known Paul since he was a wee little one, chuckles at the bulge in the young master’s pants. When Paul is close enough, Gurney leans over and mutters, “May I suggest a cold shower before training?”

Paul’s face turns bright red upon realizing what Gurney is talking about.

Throughout weapon training, Paul is distracted. His thoughts are consumed by you. Gurney notices and finds himself pushing the young boy harder, and harder. Paul mustn’t give in to thoughts of temptation. Gurney barks order after order, hitting Paul over and over until the boy is on the ground, huffing and puffing, sweat pouring down his face.

A look of determination etches upon Paul’s face as he lifts himself from the ground, swinging his blade around and glaring at Gurney. Paul is about to lunge at his weapon’s trainer but Gurney makes the quick decision to draw the session to a close because it’s clear, they won’t get much farther than this.

“Paul,” Gurney orders, raising his hand for the boy to halt, “That’s enough for today,”

“I’m not done yet,” Paul hisses, clutching the handle of his blade. He eyes as Gurney walks over to the table of weapons and begins to clean them, buffing the blade until it shines.

“Your skills are improving Paul,” Gurney says gruffly, “But there’s something else you need to learn if you want to be a good husband,”

Paul looks at Gurney with a quizzical look, unsure of how being a husband has anything to do with a training session. The young master huffs, “What are you talking about, Gurney?”

“What I mean, boy, is that being a good husband takes more than just sword skills,” Gurney replies, his tone serious. “You need to have control over your thoughts.”

Paul blushes, had it really been that obvious? He sheepishly admits, “I… I guess I was a bit distracted...”

“A bit?” Gurney guffaws, throwing his head back. Paul’s naivety is something else. He presses, “You spent two hours thinking of your wife - this type of distraction is unacceptable, young master Paul. What are you going to do when an enemy has overpowered you?”

“I have my shield -” Gurney is swift to penetrate the forcefield of an unsuspecting Paul. The defence shield vibrates at the intrusion causing Paul to stumble, his green eyes snap to his waist where the blade is hovering above his sweat-soaked shirt. Paul lets out a sigh of frustration, feeling like he has not only let himself down but Gurney as well.

Gurney scorns, “How many times have I told you? The defence shield is only -”

“As good as the person wielding the sword,” Paul finishes Gurney’s sentence. Gurney ignores Paul and continues with his speech, “Even the most powerful shield can be breached by a skilled warrior and no matter how advanced or sophisticated your shield technology is, if you can’t properly use your sword, you are vulnerable to an attack.”

Gurney sheathed his blade, eyeing Paul who looks defeated. Gurney lets out a exhale, “Paul, marriage is a lot like weapon training. You have to be willing to put in the work, to learn and grow together, and to be there for each other through thick and thin.”

Paul turns off his defence shield and runs his finger along the edge of the blade, fascinated by the vulnerability - one wrong move and he could cut himself, and bleed to death. Suddenly, the weight of being a husband falls on his shoulders and he thinks about the promise he made to protect you. He's liable for another person now and he wonders if he's even ready for the responsibility of having a wife. The young master mutters, “What happens if I can’t keep my promise of protecting her?”

Gurney furrows his brow and gives Paul a stern look, “Then you’ll have failed not only her, but yourself as well,” he says firmly, “A true warrior doesn’t waste time worrying about the what-ifs. Instead, focus on the task at hand and what you can do to prevent it. Train harder, study your enemy, and always be one step ahead. The best way to protect her is to be prepared for anything that comes your way and that means forcing yourself not to think frivolous thoughts about her,”

Paul grimly nods but Gurney sees the young boy hasn’t been convinced yet. Gurney feels for him; this is new territory and Paul has yet to find the best way to navigate it. Gurney continues, “As for your wife, you cannot be with her every moment of the day, but you can teach her to be just as skilled with the sword as you are.”

Paul hurries down the corridor of his family's castle, trying to get back to you as soon as possible. He is so excited to see your face that his stomach is churning with anticipation. He wants to hold you, touch you, kiss you. You are all he’s been thinking about and he is so close to seeing you again. Paul accelerates around the corner and nearly collides with his father, Duke Leto Atreides. Paul is caught off guard and he stumbles back.

Duke Leto regards his son with a knowing look as if he had been waiting for Paul. Leto watches as Paul straightens himself out, smoothing and adjusting the black tunic with the House of Atreides symbol on his chest. Paul suddenly feels nervous being in the presence of his father, he’s unsure of what to say or do. Paul waits for instruction.

“Paul,” His father nods. Leto knew that Paul would be in this area of the castle because Gurney had already informed him. In fact, Gurney had also informed the Duke of the kiss that the young master and his lady shared in the garden - Gurney said it wasn’t just any kiss either. It was the kiss; the type of kiss that would’ve certainly led to something more had it not been for Paul’s strict training schedule.

Leto is amused by his son’s red face which is impatient and restless. The Duke knows that Paul will not disobey his orders and decides his teachings in matrimony couldn't have come at a better time. He offers a smile to Paul, “Relax, son - Gurney told me you’d be here,”

Paul clears his throat and nods, “Yes, my lord - can I help you with anything?” Paul is dreading the answer and finds himself becoming resentful toward the Duke because now, Paul has been delayed from seeing you. When the Duke gives a curt nod, Paul’s stomach drops - why did he have to be such a fool and ask such a question?

“Yes, Paul. There is something you could help me with,” the Duke motions for Paul to follow him down the corridor of their castle. As they walk through the dimly lit castle, the glowglobes above them illuminate the towering walls made of rough-hewn gray stone. The Duke’s footsteps reverberate through the long, empty hall, echoing off the walls and filling the silent space.

Leto thinks about how small Paul used to be and how it seems like it was only yesterday that Paul was running around the castle and playing pretend with all of his imaginary friends. He has grown into a tall, handsome young man but despite all of his training and teachings, Paul still has yet to master his stoicism. Leto notes how Paul's lips are pursed with muted animosity - his son is annoyed with him. The Duke is amused by this; he knows he is yet another barrier keeping Paul from his new wife.

As the Duke regards his son, he realizes that Gurney is right. Paul is completely smitten by you and those verdant eyes of his are pooled with so much love that it spills out. His infatuation with you is written across Paul's face. This is a side of his son that he has never seen before. It pleases him because originally, Leto was resistant to the arranged marriage brought on by the Padishah Emperor who insisted that Paul take one of his daughters from House Corrino.

The Duke knows that this type of look on royalty is frowned upon and that it may be seen as a weakness. But Leto cannot help but feel proud of his son for allowing himself to feel and express intense emotions. In a world where political alliances rule, it is a rare and precious thing to see someone unabashedly show love and affection. Leto thinks of his own reasons for not marrying his concubine, Lady Jessica, and does not wish for Paul to be burdened with the same regrets.

With a sense of determination, the Duke decides to do everything in his power to help Paul build a strong and loving relationship with you. Leto refrains from chastising his son about his open display of affection because he realizes that Paul needs guidance on other matters; matters attaining to the bedroom.

He knows Paul has received the talk about procreation but Leto is about to give his son advice on proper lovemaking. It's a topic he was unwilling to breach but Lady Jessica was insistent that it happens tonight as it's obvious the newlyweds will be consummating the marriage sooner than later; she gave her own advice to you earlier and now, it is the Duke's turn.

He takes a deep breath, carefully selecting his words. He doesn't want to scare Paul and begins imparting his knowledge with a casual statement, “Gurney informed me of your training session,” He pauses when he realizes that Paul isn't paying attention to him. However, the Duke presses on, “Paul, you’re a husband now. You have a wife - a beautiful wife -”

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Paul interjects rather dreamily as a dazed look crosses his eyes. There he goes again, letting his love spill out. Leto realizes that he'll have to remind Paul about the importance of keeping his emotions in check but for now, it could wait.

"Yes, she is. And now that you're a husband, there are certain things you must do and certain things you must not do," Leto stops and turns to his son, watching as Paul's expression changes to that of confusion. "You are responsible for her happiness, her sadness - your actions will directly affect her well-being."

Paul slowly nods, taking in his father's words. Leto cocks his head to the side, asking, "Son, do you know how to keep your wife happy?"

The young master shakes his head and casts his gaze downward - no, he doesn't know how to keep you happy. And it's been plaguing him all day. It's what kept him distracted during weapon training. But when his father speaks again, it's not the type of advice he was expecting to hear: "Listen very carefully, Paul. I’m going to tell you the secret to keeping your wife happy -"

Leto glances around, making sure that they were alone and just for added measure, he lowers his voice, “You’re going to kiss her lips, kiss her until you can’t breathe. And your hands, they’re going to touch her. Everywhere. Slowly at first, but with purpose...”

Paul's face grows hot with discomfort and simply put, he's dumbfounded by these instructions; it takes him a minute to realize that his father is giving advice on foreplay. His cheeks burn crimson. He's hesitant, feeling like a fool for asking such a silly question, “How do I know if she likes it?”

"Oh, you'll know, son … you'll know," His father's eyes darken and it startles Paul. His father inches closer, his voice dropping to an even lower octave, “Your fingers and tongue are tools, they will aid you in making your wife happy."

This advice is the limit of the boundary Leto is willing to cross. He's unwilling to give any more as it is up to his son to learn that not every woman is the same and that what Lady Jessica likes might not be what Lady Daisy likes. Leto also doesn't want to scar his son with his own prowess because what he and Jessica do in their bedroom is none of Paul's business.

But of course, Paul can't help but wonder how his father knows such things and it quickly dawns on the young master that the Duke does these things with Paul’s mother - is this the reason for their happiness? The thought makes him feel uneasy and strange. He never thought sex could have such a profound effect on a relationship but it makes sense. Paul suddenly understands the gravity of his father's advice and the complexity it will bring to his own marriage; ultimately, Paul is frightened yet intrigued by the idea that his tongue and fingers will help him in the pursuit of your happiness.

Paul's brows knit together and he gazes down at his fingers, watching as he repetitively curls and uncurls them. He clarifies, "I can... I use them... on her?"

"Yes, Paul. Use them on your wife - and remember to listen to her. Nonverbal cues are still cues, her sighs and moans will tell you everything you need to know," His father sees Paul struggling to hold back the utter panic and he feels for the young boy who is about to become a man. Leto remembers feeling the same way when it came to bedding Lady Jessica for the first time. He places a reassuring hand on Paul's shoulder and adds: "The most important part is consent, Paul … remember, you have an entire lifetime to spend with her. Don't feel like you need to rush through it all tonight."

Paul nods, his throat tight and dry. The prospect of seeing you makes him anxious, and despite knowing that he desires you with every fibre of his being, he can’t shake off the uneasiness of being a disappointment. What if he can’t please you? What if he can’t perform? Will this make you love him less?

“Breathe, son. Breathe.” The Duke pats his son's shoulder and gives an encouraging smile, “You’ll do fine, Paul. I’ll see that a change is made for your weapon training session tomorrow and I’ll make sure that Gurney Halleck doesn’t bother the happy couple.”

“Have a nice evening son, and be safe,” with that, Duke Leto Atreides departs, leaving Paul alone in the corridor to ponder on what lies ahead of him tonight.

The young master leans against the cool stone and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths to steady himself. The weight of responsibility and expectations from both his father and his new wife weighs heavily on his conscience. Paul has to remind himself that he loves you and he is willing to do anything to make you happy.

The sound of the bedroom door opening startles you. Quickly, you stand. Hands trembling as they smooth out the cream-coloured negligee that adorns your body. It was a gift from Paul’s mother; she gave it to you earlier. It seems that gossip travels around the castle at an alarming rate because not even an hour after you and Paul were seen kissing in the garden, Lady Jessica was pulling you to the side for a little chat because she seems to think that tonight is the night that you finally consummate your marriage.

And she’s right because the moment Paul steps into the room, and closes the door behind him - locking it - you know exactly what is about to happen. Paul stands across from you, eyes blazing at the sight of you, drinking in your body. He’s wearing his usual black tunic. His wavy hair looks even more dishevelled than before. His cheeks are rosy. And once again, his eyes capture you and pull you into those pools of emerald. Every ounce of his love surrounds you and it spreads like wildfire across your body.

You can't believe that Paul Atreides is yours. He's so unbelievably handsome with his aquiline nose, his high-cheek bones, and his slender neck that tapers gracefully into his lean shoulders. He oozes noble lineage and the thought of providing Paul with an heir makes you giddy.

“My lord,” You finally speak. You give a curtsy, bowing your head in the process. Paul cringes; he hates when you call him by his formal title. He despises it. It makes his blood boil. He takes several long strides until he is standing in front of you. Paul places his fingers beneath your chin, lifting your head until your eyes meet his.

For a moment, you look… frightened. But there’s something else hiding in those russet-coloured eyes of yours. Paul softens, he’s suddenly all too aware that he still has the remnants of distaste written across his face. “Daisy, please… when it’s just the two of us - Just you and me - call me Paul,”

It almost feels like treason disregarding his title but he doesn’t want such formalities with you. Never. Ever. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment and you nod, "Of course, my -"

You swallow his title and shakily breathe out, "Paul," his name sounds foreign as it leaves your lips. You feel … naughty calling him by his name. You don’t think you’ve ever regarded Paul as such, not even during your marriage vows did you call him just Paul. His name leaves your lips once more, “Paul,”

The way you say his name makes him smile. He smiles so wide that his teeth make an appearance and the skin by his eyes crinkles with delight. He softly replies, "Daisy,"

You return the smile and your eyes glisten with adoration as you and Paul regard each other with a newfound appreciation as if you're meeting him for the first time. It might as well be since the first few days were tumultuous, filled with uncertainty and a longing to be anywhere that wasn't Caladan. But now, all you want to be is with him.

Paul can't help himself anymore and gives into temptation, his eyes glancing down at the negligee your body is adorned with. It’s a bit tight and it leaves almost nothing to the imagination; he's able to see the colour of your flesh through the transparent silk. His eyes linger on the imprints of your breasts as they poke through the fabric but what really intrigues Paul is the secret that lies between your thighs. Paul notices the strap of your negligee has started to slip down your shoulder and he reaches up to adjust it, his fingers gently brushing against your collarbone as he does so.

Immediately, he notices that the simple touch has caused goosebumps to explode across the surface of your skin followed by a tinge of red. Paul is fascinated by this change and wonders what other reactions you have in store for him. Meanwhile, you're growing impatient with him. You wish he'd just kiss you already because you miss the feeling of his lips against yours. But he doesn't and unbeknownst to you, Paul is planning to take his sweet time.

Paul steps back, unbuttoning the top of his tunic. He's never gotten used to the tightness of his uniform and he lets out a sigh of relief. His eyes briefly glance at you standing there. You look annoyed by his actions and this amuses him.

You begin to shift on the balls of your heels, teeth biting into your lower lip as you think ‘patience is a virtue’. Paul has had a long day of weapons training and royal responsibilities. Surely, he is tired. But you have also waited all day for him and waiting a few more minutes sounds torturous - maybe if you ask him to kiss you, he'll listen.

"Please, Paul..." Your voice comes out whinier than intended. You feel embarrassed but it's Paul's reaction to your petulance that makes the pink colour in your cheeks deepen into crimson.

He pauses, a single eyebrow of his raising as his lips lift into a playful smirk. "Please, what, Daisy?"

Paul watches you through those thick, dark eyelashes of his. He waits for your answer and what you're unaware of is that he has enough patience to wait forever. After all, he is the son of a duke. Since birth, he's been taught to endure and persevere.

“I-I…” You stutter, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the look clouding over in Paul’s verdant eyes. It causes an unfamiliar feeling to stir inside you and your thoughts quickly become a jumbled, incoherent mess. But thankfully, what you can recall is Lady Jessica’s advice: if you can’t tell him, show him.

Slowly, you walk forward with Paul watching your every move. Your fingers tremble as you reach for the button of his tunic, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. As you unbutton his tunic, you quietly inquire, “How was your weapons training?”

Your question brings a sense of closeness that you’ve never experienced before. But truth be told, you don’t care about his weapon training. You just think it’ll help speed things up a bit. But Paul is distracted. His gaze lingers on your face; he’s admiring the smattering of freckles that dance along the bridge of your nose. You glance at him and see that his lips are still curved into an adoring smile. It makes your heart swell.

Paul finally answers your question but his words fall on deaf ears because your mind is distracted by the sight of his lean waist. You find yourself growing envious of his body and begin to feel insecure because there is no denying the fact that your body is fuller than his, your bits fleshy and pudgy. Of course, Paul sees the change in your face and at first, he’s confused. But as he watches your eyes studying his body, particularly his perfectly flat stomach, he realizes what is bothering you.

"Oh, Daisy..." He coos. His voice breaks through your thoughts and you look at him, puzzled. Paul tilts his head to the side and traces his finger along your rotund jawline. Truth be told, he adores the ampleness of your body. He’s been admiring your curves for days and now, he finally has the opportunity to touch them. Paul is filled with the utmost delight at the prospect of being smothered by you body that’s bigger than his.

It is this exact thought that unleashes Paul from his restraints and he leans down, capturing your lips with his. You sigh happily and instantly forget about your jealousy. You relish the feeling of his supple lips pressing against yours - finally. He places a hand on the nape of your neck and the other on your hip, fingers digging into your thick flesh. He eagerly presses his body against yours, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

This kiss is different than the one in the garden. It's urgent. Needy. Paul is eager for more and he deepens it by swiping his tongue against your bottom lip. Your mouth opens - you've never been kissed like this before and at first, you're timid. Unsure of what to do. But Paul seems to be just as lost as you are. It doesn't stop either of you from trying.

Time blurs and for several minutes, it's nothing but a kindling mess of trembling hands and soft, wet noises. There is no rhythm and there is no tempo. Paul is sucking your tongue into his mouth and next, you're nipping at his lower lip; he growls when you do so. The growl reverberates through your body and dissolves into a heavy pleasure that presses down into your core.

Your lungs are desperate for fresh air and reluctantly, you separate. Your chest heaves against Paul’s and you gaze at him, noting how his eyes are still closed, lost in the throes of passion. His lips are swollen, bee-stung. Your lips are swollen too. Paul begins to run his hands up and down your back, his feathery touch tickles and you giggle softly at the sensation. His eyes snap open, verdant eyes flickering with burning desire.

“Do you want to lie down?” His voice is low-pitched but clear, his intentions are polite and sincere. He'll never stop being a duke even during the most intimate of times. He presses his forehead against yours, patiently waiting for an answer.

"Yes," Your voice shakes. He takes your hand and leads you to the bed. Tension begins to simmer beneath the surface and it causes your throat to dry up, making it difficult to speak. Those pesky nerves have come back and you wish they hadn't because you were having so much fun before -

“Are you okay?” Paul asks lowering your body down first before sliding his body next to yours. Your stomach is violently fluttering and you can only nod in response. You wonder if he can hear how fast your heart is beating.

Paul can just tell by wavering doubt on your face that you’re not okay. He peers at you, his face full of concern. He speaks, “Tell me you’re okay, Daisy,”

You swallow dryly and nod for a second time. Your fingers are gripping his arm because you are afraid that if you let go, he might disappear. It takes you another minute to gather yourself.

“I’m o-okay,” Breathlessly, you repeat, “I’m okay,”

This time it's Paul’s turn to nod. His lips turn into a soft, reassuring smile. He tenderly tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and addresses your concerns, “We don’t have to do this - we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,”

Your heart tumbles over its own rhythm and you quickly shake your head. You want this - you want him. You want him to penetrate you with the bulge that has been steadily growing in his pants. You whisper, “But… but what if I do want it?”

He bites into his growing smile, trying to hide his excitement. He’s thrilled that you feel the same way and he loves hearing you speak. He wishes that you’d do it more and he knows in time that you will. As his father said, Paul has an entire lifetime to spend with you.

“Make love to me, Paul…” Your confession is quiet. Barely audible. Paul is unsure if he has even heard you but at the sight of your blushing cheeks, he knows that he wasn’t dreaming. You are silently pleading that he feels the way because if he doesn’t, you might just perish from embarrassment.

Paul pauses to watch the look of yearning etch itself across your face. You start to shift beneath the intensity of his gaze, your eyes dropping down. That’s when Paul feels your hands moving down his body. Your fingers latch onto his trousers, attempting to unbutton them but you’re having trouble, and it’s making you flustered.

Paul is loving every second of it. He enjoys how your brows have furrowed in concentration and he particularly likes the frustration growing on your face. You bite your lower lip and impatiently huff as you give up. You realize he’s been watching you this entire time and your eyes snap to his. You glare at the coltish expression on his face. Paul finds your exasperation endearing.

You bury your face into his arm, mumbling, “Paul, make love to me…”

Blood rushes through his body and goes straight down to the bulge straining against his trousers. He loves your wantonness and he wants to hear you beg for it again. He pulls your face away from his skin, eyes devouring you. As he holds your chin between his hands, Paul demands, “Say it again,”

You can’t help but glare again at him. He knows you won’t disobey. You speak, voice clipped with precise ardency, “Paul Atreides, my lord, will you please fuck me?”

The mixture of his full name and his title sends his blood into a frenzy. If he was already turned on before, then what’s happening to his body now? One thing for sure is that you don’t have to ask again because, within a minute, Paul has hastily thrown off his trousers and he’s now completely naked.

Your eyes, well… your eyes are instantly locked onto the appendage between your husband’s thighs. Of course, you have seen what a phallus looks like in art and in scientific videos. But in comparison to Paul’s, those examples were tiny and they definitely did not prepare you for the real thing.

His cock is so engorged and so pink, the tip of it glistening with some sort of secretion. As he moves his body back down to the bed, his cock twitches and bobs. He sees your fascination and watches how you are practically salivating over his well-endowed gift. Your core squirms with anticipation and your thighs involuntarily flex at the thought of him being inside you.

“Do you want to touch it?” His voice is timid, hesitating to request such a thing from his innocent wife but he’s held back long enough. Paul is so sure that he’s going to burst at any second - he watches as you reach out, hand faltering at second thoughts. Paul inhales sharply, “Touch me, Daisy, please…”

When your fingers brush against the tip of his cock, he shudders and his stomach constricts causing his cock to quiver. You quickly look up at him, wondering if you had hurt him but it’s clear you haven’t. He has an intense but dazed look on his face and he’s biting down on his lower lip, restraining himself. Paul is holding himself back and persevering through the pure torture you’re currently putting him through.

You wonder what’ll happen if you firmly grasp his cock, so your hand wraps around his girthy shaft and a throaty groan escapes from deep inside Paul’s body. His reaction pleases you and slowly, you continue to drag your hand down until it rests against the furry tufts on the base of his cock.

You notice how Paul’s chest is heaving and he’s pressing his body into the mattress, hands gripping the sheets, knuckles almost turning white. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, pleading for more but you’re taking your time, exploring his body, finding ways to incite reactions from him. You know he’s enjoying your hand gliding up and down his cock but what if… what if you were to taste him? You readjust your body so that you’re sitting with your mouth hovering over his cock.

“Daisy, what’re you…” Paul says, his voice deeper than usual. You lick the tip of his cock, tasting the pearly secretion that has been leaking out. Paul gasps, swearing under his breath. You lick his cock again and once more, Paul reacts with a throaty gasp. You’ve overpowered him with one simple move and now he’s yours. It is at this moment that Paul realizes he is supposed to be listening to your sighs and moans but instead, you��re listening to his.

He watches as you thoroughly lick the tip of his cock. The sensation is immaculate and he’s struggling to remain cool and composed. You aren’t exactly sure what you’re doing but you’re enjoying the smoothness and warmth of his arousal. You seal your lips around him and slowly, very tentatively, lower your mouth down. Paul groans loudly and his hand finds the back of your head, his fingers gripping your hair so that it’s not in the way of his view.

The sight of you, mouth full of his throbbing cock, practically sends him over the edge. He has to restrain himself by closing his eyes and silently begging that he doesn’t ejaculate - he can’t. Not yet. He’s trying to convince himself that it’s your turn to be pleasured but when his cock hits the back of your throat, you gag and the sound makes him completely forget everything. His eyes snap open, watching as you bring your mouth back up, leaving a trail of spit pooling down his cock.

“D-Da-Daisy,” Paul sputters out, completely out of breath. You ignore him, dragging both your hands along his quivering cock. He struggles to find his words but when he does, he orders, “Stop,”

He grabs your hands and pulls them off his body. Shocked, you look at him. He looks like a man who has just been to hell and back. His hair is beyond dishevelment, strands of it sticking to his damp forehead. His eyes are wild, his once verdant eyes have been taken over by expanded pupils that have blackened out any colour.

Before you can ask what you did wrong, Paul is tugging off the negligee and exposing your naked body to him for the first time. His eyes sweep over every nook and cranny, noting every bulge of abundance. He’s taking inventory, marking his favourite areas. He’s particularly drawn to your breasts and how they swell against your chest, gravity pulling down the pillows of dough. They look rather heavy to Paul and he just has to reach up to grasp them. God, they’re so soft and perfect. He’s quick to lower his mouth, latching it onto your perky nipple. The sensation of his tongue swiping over the sensitive bud makes you gasp, “Paul,”

He grins against your skin and can’t help himself, he just has to nibble at the fleshy softness of your chest, which causes you to gasp. Your hand grabs the back of Paul’s head, fingers kneading through his hair, locking him there because your breasts absolutely love the attention. Meanwhile, Paul feels like he is in heaven, sighing happily as little noises continue to escape from your mouth.

Simply put, he can’t get enough of you. He licks and sucks your breasts as if they were ripe fruits, his tongue sweet and rough against the sensitive flesh. He alternates between too much and not enough, which creates a perplexed feeling between your hips, right in the crest of your crotch. It’s vague, incomplete. You have never felt such a thing before tonight. You flex your thighs, hoping that you can rid yourself of the unnatural feeling.

With his mouth still attached to your breast, Paul takes his hand and plants it on the inside of your thigh. This movement doesn’t help the unnatural feeling that has been steadily growing and you squirm, hoping Paul doesn’t notice. Of course, he does and he detaches himself to peer at you. He loves how pink and splotchy your cheeks have gotten, and he loves how your eyes have narrowed into a lusty squint.

Testing you, he drags his fingers upward. His cock throbs at how saturated your thighs have gotten. He doesn’t even think you’re aware of the wetness seeping from your flower and he cups your fuzzy mound, which causes you to squeal in surprise. The sudden intrusion is too much and you’re squirming out of his grasp. Paul is quick and wraps his other arm around your body. He’s strong enough to hold you, keeping you locked against him.

With his voice barely above a whisper, Paul asks, “Can I?”

You swallow hard. You desperately want him to touch you down there but you’re terrified of what might happen because you heard that unnatural things can occur. Paul senses your worry and feels your hesitation, and immediately takes his hand away - consent is the most important thing. You can’t help but notice how your pussy suddenly feels lonely now…

However, those thoughts are quickly pushed away because Paul pulls your body down with his, your chest colliding with his as he lies underneath you. You feel like you’re crushing him and for a third time, you begin to squirm.

“Daisy,” His grip tightens. You stop squirming and sheepishly glance up at him. He’s gazing at you, with so much love and adoration, that it makes your breathing hitch inside your throat. Paul whispers, “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

The compliment makes you blush, your skin reddening even more. You confess, “I’m not a woman yet -”

“Yet,” Paul interjects and shifts so that your body is lying next to his. He kisses your temple, “Lay back and relax, I’m going to try something…”

You’re reluctant for Paul to see such an intimate part of you. He pleads, eyes begging for a chance. He murmurs, “Just trust me, okay?”

His words make you reconsider. You decide to trust your husband and you lay down, inhaling to calm yourself. But the moment Paul places his hands on your legs, your heart rate spikes and rattles against your chest. As he spreads you open, he looks at your flower with reverence. It’s so puffy, so pink and so wet that it glistens beneath the glowglobes.

He positions his body between your thighs, his cock rubs against the inner flesh, and you shudder at the sensation. He looks at you, worried. You shake your head, “Paul, I need you…”

At your request, he is so quick to touch you. His finger slides along your folds. You suck in and bite down on your lower lip, holding back. But Paul yearns to hear you, and he does it again, repeating the movement. A small groan escapes and it’s all the encouragement that he needs. Through heavy-lidded eyes, you see that he is in deep concentration, studying as your hips jerk when he presses his palm against a sensitive little nub that’s hiding between your petals. As he does it again, your mouth goes slack and a moan slips out. He begins to circle it with determination, knowing this must be the spot.

There’s a liquid heat pooling in your core and the more pressure he adds, the less you can take it. You are back to squirming beneath his touch, gasping and groaning at the pressure building inside. It’s such a foreign feeling - you feel like you’re going to burst open. You feel scared about what might happen. You want Paul to stop, yet you don’t. Everything is so conflicting and your throat is parched, and you want your husband to look at you. But Paul is so engrossed in what he’s doing - he’s absolutely fascinated at the stickiness that seeps through your magnificent folds.

Unable to take much more, you reach down and grasp his chin, forcing him to look at you. At first, he’s baffled. He was so sure that you were enjoying his hard work - your eyes are hungry, having not been satiated yet. The look sends a chill down his spine and when you whimper, his cock twitches.

If he wants to make you a woman, it needs to happen now. You whimper again, “Paul, I need you … I need you inside of me,”

“Are … are you sure, Daisy?” He asks, eyes glazing over. You nod and reach up to caress his cheek. Paul is so unbelievably sweet. He begins to trail kisses along your stomach, tongue dipping into your belly button causing you to throw your head back into the pillow. He grins wolfishly and continues marking his territory, relentlessly teasing you until you are nothing but a wet, blubbering mess.

Finally, after a lifetime has passed, Paul sweetly kisses your lips and his cock brushes against your swollen labia. The first meeting. Wetness against wetness. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his shoulders down into your body. Paul steadies himself, his chest puffing out with excitement as he lines the tip of his cock against your entrance.

“Fuck,” He hisses. Paul knows it’s going to be a tight fit and he’s worried about hurting you. He plants a tender kiss against your jaw, whispering, “Tell me if I hurt you, okay?”

You nod, shutting your eyes and moaning out as his cock begins to nudge inside. It’s definitely a little too large for comfort and your body is resisting - you have to order yourself to relax. And when he’s finally pushed past, there’s a popping sensation. It’s quick and it hurts, pain shooting through your pelvis. You wince.

Paul notices and stops, he attempts to pull out but you’re quick to lock your legs around his. His lips move against your skin, “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” You sniffle, shaking your head. But Paul can see straight through your lie. He asks the question again, shifting because he’s afraid of causing you pain. This time, you answer truthfully, “It hurts but your cock… it feels so good, Paul - don’t stop, please don’t stop -”

He listens and continues to push his hips forward. Your eyes remain closed but your mouth hangs open, little mewling noises coming forth. Paul struggles to remain composed as your tight cunt swallows his girth. At a glacial pace, he pushes into your body and buries his face into the crook of your neck. He’s struggling not to cum because, for him, the suction of your velvety walls is swiftly driving him toward the edge.

“You’re such a good girl,” He’s barely audible, hands gripping the side of your protruding stomach. He gives one final thrust, grunting, “Cunt so goddamn tight,”

His cock is fully inside, buried to the hilt. You’re gasping, fireworks sparking behind your eyelids. Your hands are trailing along his back, nails digging into fevered flesh. It still hurts but it’s a good type of hurt. He begins rocking his hips, slowly at first, stretching out your virgin cunt. The mixture of pain and pleasure has you splitting open, crying out, “Oh, fuck! Paul!”

For a moment, Paul thinks he’s hurting you again and he pauses. You hiss at him, “My lord, just fuck me already,”

Your lord does not like that. He sits up on his knees, arms placed on either side of you and hovers over your body. It glistens with sweat and you’re eyes have snapped open at the sudden loss. You see that Paul’s eyebrows are knitted together, irritated that you brought up his nobility. He pulls out, noting the smear of crimson around his cock but doesn’t think twice about it and shoves it back inside.

You cry out, “My lord,”

He seethes, biting down on his lower lip and begins to rapidly thrust in and out. You want to be properly fucked and he’s giving you exactly what you want. The room fills with your cries of pleasure as Paul spitefully fucks your sweet cunt. The same sweet cunt that is making crude, wet noises, making it impossible not to spill his seed right then and there.

He wants to make sure that you finish too but Paul knows he’s close. He feels the familiar sensation of an orgasm building inside; he knows the feeling all too well because he’s no stranger to masturbation. In fact, he’s spilled his seed onto this very bed many times in the past year. He’s restraining himself, the friction starting to become too much for him - the tight coil wants to snap and he can’t stop thinking about filling your womb with his seed.

He shudders, willing himself to slow down so that you can catch up to him. His thrusting turns tender and he begins to lovingly guide his cock into your body, burying it against your hilt. Paul notices that you like this more because your moans have become guttural, coming from somewhere deep. He does it again, fully burrowing his cock in your velvety walls. They are contracting, practically convincing Paul to spill his seed. He's barely able to resist the temptation.

You seem to be fighting your own demons and reaching for something that you aren’t even sure exists. Certainly, it must because what else is this feeling that has pooled inside your belly? The liquid is hot, near boiling point. Each time Paul thrusts his cock, it hits a spot and it makes your cunt convulse, and your eyes roll back because the stimulation is too much.

Your hands grip Paul’s strong arms, nails digging into his flesh. Paul reaches down between your bodies, fingers fondling your fuzzy little mound as he remains buried inside. He pushes your puffy lips apart and presses your button. It sends a jolt through your body and you bellow out, “Paul!”

He presses his thumb against the sensitive little nub and glides his cock against that spot, and you’re so close - so close. Paul pushes his cock into the depths of your cunt, practically tearing into your womb. His cock quivers against the friction of your walls and he shudders, eyes closing tight while his hand continues to work your clitoris. He wills himself not to cum but it’s useless because, within seconds, he’s shooting his hot, thick load into your tight, breedable cunt.

You cry out, feeling as Paul’s arousal fills you. It’s the thought of Paul impregnating you that causes your orgasm to boil over. Your pussy clenches and convulses with gratification at having the opportunity to give Paul an heir. You cling to him, needing him more than ever as you repeatedly call out his name, prolonging the vowels, “Paaaaauuuul, Paaaauuuul, Paaaauuuulll!”

#paul atreides #dune #timothee chamalet #paul atreides x you #paul atreides x reader #smut #fan fic #castle atreides #duke leto atreides #thewordypeach #chubby reader #paul atreides x chubby reader #paul atreides x fem!reader #thewordypeachwrites #wpw

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random-writing-panda · 1 year

Text

||•~ Growing pains ~•||

(Older)Damian Wayne x Reader

*My GIF

I’m finally getting better at making fic’s longer. As always I hope you guys enjoy it and that my inability to spell doesn’t reflect in my writing to much🙃

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: little bit angsty

====================================

Damian starts to develop feelings towards his best friend, he doesn't understand what these feelings mean so who better to go to but his big brother Dick?

====================================

Damian hated this class. Out of all the classes he had to waste his day attending, this one was the worst because the one person who made school bearable was on the other side of the room. So, he was stuck sitting next to morons who only wanted to talk to him because he was Damian Wayne.

He was zoned out not paying any attention to the class, he didn’t need to, he knew more about the subject then the teacher did and that left him to doing the one thing that had seemed to take over his life recently, drawing you. He sat there sketching lines onto his book glancing up to look over to you as you sat with your face resting in your hand looking half asleep. Damian smiled to himself as he looked back down to the sketch. No matter how many times he drew you he could never make it perfect, never fully capture the beauty you hold.

It had been almost two months of Damian drawing you. You had found one of his sketch books and were so shocked at how talented he was, the detail was incredible, so obviously as his best friend you begged him to draw you.

∞∞

“No.” he sighed

“C’monnnn Dami please! Just one sketch. It’s just one please!” you grab his arm and he squirms a little.

“Oh sorry... I forgot the touching thing. But seriously please? Just draw me once.” you pull you hand away and give him puppy dog eyes. You were the one person he listened to, not a lot, but more than anyone else.

“Fine. One okay?” he looks over to you and smiles as you start clapping and smiling.

“Thank you Dami!”

∞∞

He had finished the sketch and just looked at it just wasn’t good enough, it was missing something and he couldn’t make it look perfect but you had seen him stop so you practically ran over to him and sat next to him and ran your fingers over the edge of the paper and you had smiled so much, you seemed so happy.

As happy as you were with the picture Damian just couldn’t let go of the fact something was missing, so he tried again, using the picture of the two of you that he kept in his room as a reference.

It drove him crazy, whenever he saw you there was something so beautiful that he just couldn’t capture in his drawings and eventually after every day you spent together, he would sit down and draw it.

Over the two months he had filled up the entire book with memories and whenever he looked through his sketchbook he was filled with happiness and something completely unexplainable.

“Damian since you seem to be paying attention what is the answer to the question?” the teacher asked trying to embarrass him. It backfired quickly when Damian answered correctly without even looking up from his book. The class tried to stifle their laughter as the teacher turned red and tried to continue with the class.

Damian shot his eyes up to look at you again and he heard your laugh after what had occurred and he just smiled back at you. He didn’t know what was happening to him.

How he felt about you confused him which he hated Damian absolutely hated not know what was happening especially when his own feelings are what were confusing him. He needed to know what was happening and he couldn’t work it out on his own... he needed help...

∞∞

He was never going to let Damian live this down. Damien actually asking for someone else's help.

“I swear Grayson. You will never utter a word of this conversation to anyone is that understood?” Damian scowls at Dick as they sit across from each other.

“Sure, okay fine what do you need help with Damian?” Dick slouches over resting his elbows on his knees.

“Whenever I’m with Y/n... I feel weird.” Damian says trying to piece together the words.

“Weird? What do you mean weird?”

“If I knew what I meant I would have said that wouldn't I Grayson? Uh forget it.” Damian goes to stand up.

“No! Hey Damian, I'm sorry come on I want to help.” Dick says standing and gently puts his hand on Damian’s shoulder, “Just talk to me try to explain it?”

“Fine... when I’m with her I...I just...I feel like I’m happier... I feel like a better person and I feel...okay I mean actually okay.” Damian sat back down and but his head in his hands. “And... there is just something unexplainable and...I don’t understand... my entire life i have know exactly how to feel and how to respond... how to turn off my feelings...but I can’t and I don’t know how to deal with it... i don’t even know what it is!”

“Heh... sounds like you're in love.” Dick lets out a small almost sad chuckle. “First love...wow”

“Love?-”

“Yeah love it is what happens when people-”

“I know what love is Grayson!” Damian replies hastily and rolls his eyes, “I just didn’t know it felt like... this...”

“It’s love. It feels like love. You just know!” Dick says almost like he was confused

“No Grayson. I don’t know that’s why I came to you.” Damian knew people didn’t understand but at this point they didn’t even try to understand that he couldn't process emotion like other people, they just brush it off.

“I’m trying to be supportive but how do you not know what love is like? Any kind of love?”

“Well Dick some of us didn’t grow up perfectly.”

“Perfectly?! Perfectly really?? No one in this house grew up perfectly! Except maybe Alfred, but that’s beside the point!”

“Yeah well you could be less of a dick, Dick.” Damien stood up and walked away without a second thought.

∞∞

“I will never understand the need for a bed the size of a normal room.” You laugh as you fall back onto Damian’s bed and lay there looking up at his ceiling.

“I don’t get it either but its comfortable.” Damian raises his head and puts his pencil on his desk.

“I agree maximum comfort levels. I should sleep over more.” you smile and watching you on his bed his face heats up and you move around on the bed and walk over to him.

You sit up on his desk and look down at Damian’s sketch book.

“Is that me?” you move to grab the book, but Damian gets to it first and slams it shut.

“Nope.” his eyes meet yours and he smiles, “Not you at all.”

“Hm I don’t think so, I'm pretttyy sure that was me.”

He looks down and he tried to stay calm. Did you hate him? Did you think he was creep? Were you going to stop hanging out with him?

“Let me see it!” you laugh and try to grab the book.

“No!”

“Please?”

“...Fine...”

He hands the book over to you and his hand brushed yours and you smiled.

You open the book to the first page and see a beautiful sketch of your day out at the beach with him, you flip over the pages one by one and are met with an entire book full of drawings of you.

“Damian...”

That was it you thought he was a creep.

“These are so amazing...” you reach the end of the book and find a page with your sketch in a box in the middle of the page.

“Sorry...this is weird...” He looks at the wall and straightens up in his seat.

You reach over and place your hand on his cheek, you run your finger over the side of his face.

“What are you talking about? They are amazing Damian what are you embarrassed about?”

“You don’t think I'm creepy for having a sketch book full of pictures of you?” Damian laughs and leans into your hand.

“No... it's so sweet.” you look down trying to force words pass the lump in your throat. “It’s nice to have the guy you like take that much interest in you...” you mumble to quietly.

“You like me?”

“Yeah...maybe...a little bit...”

“Good.” Damian stands up and tugs you off the desk and hugs you. “Because... I think I like you too.”

“Damian?”

He pulls back.

“Yeah...?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He smiles and you lean into him and press your lips against his and you slowly close your eyes,grasping your waist tightly he pulls you closer to him. The moment seems to last for an eternity and once you pull away you rest you head on his chest.

“Just one sketch huh...?” you look up and Damien rolls his eyes at chuckles.

“Just one sketch.”

================

Tag list:

#older damian wayne x reader #older damian wayne #batfam #damian wayne #robin damian #robin x reader #robin x y/n #robin x you #batman #batfam imagine #batfam fic #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n

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arazialotis · 27 days

Text

Get Him to the Con - Part 10

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 6520

Story Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Chapter Summary: Y/n visits Vancouver to see Jensen and, more importantly, to try to win Jared over.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Warnings: Always language. Grumpy Jared. After dinner, well, it gets NSFW 🌶️🌶️, 18+ Only

Although this is an RPF, these are fabricated characters and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as a coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

----

The black Escalade wove through the Vancouver traffic, the sun beating down, melting the piles of slushy remnants from the first snow. What should have been an eagerly anticipated moment for your arrival was tense. Behind the wheel, Jensen was trying to be the bridge between you and his best friend.

“Lighten up, man. Y/n’s really excited to be out here again and wants nothing more than to hang out and cook us a nice meal.” Jensen pleaded your case.

He, in fact, suggested pizza on the risk of jetlag, but you had insisted, falling back onto the age-old idiom ‘the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.’ You already had one of their hearts, and you were convinced you could make Jared warm up to you, too, if only he saw you as who you were and not as a clingy fangirl. Yet you felt that rift growing every time you saw him. And the last thing you wanted was for Jensen to be caught in the middle.

“Would you try to like her? For me? Please.” Jensen nearly begged when Jared didn’t respond.

At least he was in the car, though Jensen didn’t give him a choice, with this outing as a pretense of drinks after work.

Jensen tried one more time, fed up with Jared’s stubbornness. “At least act nice.”

That got his attention. “Act nice? I’ll play nice if she does.” The accusation hanging heaving.

Jensen furrowed his brow. “Y/n doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.” Okay, you had a bit of a temper, were known to hold a grudge, and had a smart mouth, but Jared didn’t need to know that.

Jared scoffed. “Last time she came out, she literally laughed and criticized me for overacting.”

Jensen’s confusion grew, trying to remember the last time you came out. Then, the realization hit him as the three of you watched the latest episode together in another futile attempt for Jensen to foster peace.

Despite the animosity, Jensen couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, she laughed at a scene and apologized immediately, saying it was hard to take the show seriously now that she knows us. And I said that wasn’t it; it’s probably because you took your acting lessons from Bruce Campbell." His tongue peeked out between his teeth as he attempted and failed to control another giggle, still quite proud of the slight.

“It was a serious scene. I was acting my heart out.” Jared stressed. “You had just gotten back from hell.”

Jensen lost the smile. “In her defense, it does lose its impactfulness after the 17th time.”

“Whatever, man.” Jared pouted, looking out the window.

Jensen rolled his eyes and prayed to any god that would listen. “Would it make you feel better if we watch Devour together after dinner? Then we’ll just laugh at me.”

Jared said nothing, not taking the bait. The clicking of the blinker filled the silence as Jensen waited to turn toward the arrival gates. Jared ran his fingers through his hair as Jensen pursed his lips together, trying to think of something, anything. The light turned green.

“I don’t even know why I am here. Y/n has, like, what, two full days out here? You should be spending it together without having to worry about me third-wheeling. I’m sure there are other things that you would prefer to occupy time you don’t get over Zoom.” Jared rambled out loud.

Jensen’s eyes tightly blinked shut momentarily as he began seeking out an open spot at the curb. Jared was right, of course, only on account of his last thought, but he wouldn’t be at peace until he had the blessing of his best friend. Jensen inhaled through his nose, held his breath, and released through his mouth.

“It is important to me that you and Y/n find some common ground. If you gave her even the slightest chance, I’m positive you would start to like her.” He said calmly as he put the car into park.

“Why does it matter so much to you if I like her?” Jared pushed. To him, you were still only a rebound after Elena.

And then it hit him. Maybe Jared’s denial of his true fear of being replaced had come true.

“Because she’s my best friend and I love her!” He declared and then laughed through the shock.

It was the first time he had admitted it out loud. The silence was palpable as both men processed the weight of the words. Jensen wasn’t one to open up lightly. He felt deeply, but he was always careful with those emotions, cautious even. It had taken nearly two years before he said the same to Elena. Another before they started looking at rings. Maybe because it was one of the first serious relationships he had since the start of his career. The depth and commitment he had felt with her made the falling out that much more disastrous. He had fortified his walls to be higher and more impenetrable. Then you came out of nowhere and shattered everything he thought he knew about himself. He felt like a caged bird learning for the first time how to spread its wings, to feel the breeze on its face, and the warmth of the sun. With you, he felt free.

Jared’s eyes darted back and forth as if reading his thoughts, finding the right response. Jensen squeezed the steering wheel and nodded his head. “I love her.” He said again, the realization hitting him, fully knowing it was true. But then the terror of the statement hit him. The car door shuttered open, and the catapult of a backpack rolling over the seatbench crashing at the other end pulled Jared from his thoughts as you entered the car.

“Hiya!” You squeaked.

You pulled the door close with a thud and clicked on your seatbelt. You cleared your throat, looking up, momentarily afraid you jumped in the wrong car. But it was Jensen and Jared, alright. Jensen stared directly ahead, his face as white as if seeing a ghost. Jared scrutinized his friend. You sank back in your seat. You had thrown yourself directly into something.

Jared turned in his seat, blinking rapidly and addressing you in the most amiable tone he had ever taken with you. “Hi Y/n. Um, would you mind giving us a minute?”

Oh, you had definitely walked into something. It took you a minute to process this, but then you began fumbling with the seatbelt, “Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” And vacated the Escalade as fast as possible.

Jared’s brow furrowed, and he leaned closer to a whisper as you aimlessly knocked your fists together outside on the sidewalk. “You love her?”

He chuckled again and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I really do.”

Jared knew he should be happy for Jensen, knew they should be celebrating this, offering congratulations, but all he felt was dread.

“Have you told her?” Jared asked.

“Nah, you’re the first to know.” Jensen clapped Jared on the shoulder. “I want the moment to be right, you know. I want to be able to remember it for a long time.”

Jared thought about faking it, but he had to be real with Jensen. “You don’t know her.”

That set him off. “Why are you so set against her? Why can’t you be happy for me? I do know her. I’ve known her for seven months, been dating her for 4 of those, and talk to her almost daily.” His voice went up an octave higher. “I don’t know why I have to keep justifying my choices to you, man? When will it ever be good enough for you?”

Jared didn’t take the bait. “But you don’t know her. How can you truly? You haven’t met her friends or her family, and it sounds like her mom is a real piece of work. Are you ready to deal with that?”

Outside the car, airport security approached you. Both boys could tell from your over-exaggerated gestures that you were attempting to buy them more time.

Jared continued. “And no offense, but she isn’t spotlight material.”

“Fuck you.” Jensen's blood boiled over. He was about to leave the car to find another way to get back into the city. At that moment, he never wanted to see Jared again.

“Come on. Give me a break. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Though he kind of did. “All I’m saying is that if you truly are that committed to her, that this isn’t some fling, you should think about preparing her for the kind of attention it will warrant. The good, the bad, and the ugly. That kind of stress and attention can ruin a person.”

Jensen didn’t respond but wrung his hands on the steering wheel. There was a knock on the window.

“Please, know I’m just trying to look out for you,” Jared whispered as he began rolling down the window.

“Nobody asked you to.” Jensen snipped back before the security guard started to chew them out.

As the boys were on the receiving end of a very stern lecture, you slipped as quietly as possible into the back seat to avoid further angering or endangering yourself with security. Yes, spending a night in jail was on your bucket list, but this is not what you had in mind.

“Sorry, officer,” Jensen ended a profuse apology before hightailing it out of there.

You weren’t sure exactly what you missed, but the air hung thick with tension. Nobody spoke. There was only the hum of tires on the road. It hit you that Jensen never even acknowledged you. You fiddled with a loose stitch on the seat in front of you.

After five minutes and starting to get out of airport traffic, you couldn’t handle it anymore. “So…” You drew the word out, unsure how to break into a conversation.

Jensen blinked, realizing you had no reason to be as upset as him and that it was unfair to suffer from their drama, especially when you were not privy to it.

He cleared his throat. “I got the groceries you requested delivered.” However, he didn’t know how the three of you would sit through a dinner together.

“Oh, good! I’m starving. Airport food never really hits the spot, but the Cajun snack mix does kinda slap.” You rambled, trying for anything to get them talking.

They both hmmed in response. You were about to ask them about their favorite airport snack, but thank the gods, it was Jared who surprisingly saved you.

“What’s for dinner then?” He was trying. He had fucked up. He knew it. This was how he could try to make amends with Jensen.

You beamed, having perfectly planned it out, trying to finally win Jared over to your side. “We’ll start with a strawberry, basil, and balsamic whipped burrata and roasted bone marrow. Then, a small lemon watercress-radicchio salad for a palate cleanser before moving on to a butter-basted ribeye accompanied by potatoes au gratin and crispy brussel sprouts with mustard seeds and pomegranate.”

Jared’s stomach rumbled. Goddammit, that sounded good.

“And, I was considering a dessert, but Jensen said I already had enough going on, and because baking isn’t my strong suit, I let him handle the rest.” You explained. “You did handle the rest, didn’t you?”

Jensen's anger melted a little. With a smirk, he said, “Yeah, a tub of vanilla ice cream.”

Your heart dropped. “Stop.” There was a glint of teasing in his eyes as he looked at you through the rearview mirror, but the rest of his face remained deadpan. You couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “Okay, I guess I could repropose what I had in mind for the burrata, and if you have sugar on hand and something salty and crunchy, we could do a quick brittle. Oooh, maybe the cajun snack mix. Or perhaps…”

“Y/n! I’m messing with you. I have an assortment ordered from Thomas Haas.” He winked at you in the mirror.

Thomas Haas meant little to you, but anything would be better than a tub of ice cream. Okay, a tub of ice cream had its time and place, but not when you were working so hard to impress Jared. Still, you eyed Jensen skeptically, unsure if it would measure up.

“Some of the best in Vancouver,” Jared assured. “I’m sure it will compliment your dinner perfectly. I can’t wait. It all sounds very delicious.”

“Hmm.” You looked between the two of them.

There were still too many questions unanswered. What were they talking about before you arrived? Could you trust either of them to select a quality dessert or would you have to resort to brittle anyways? Were you now on a no-fly list due to the tiff with the security guard? When could you get Jensen alone (this stern look painted on his face was doing things you couldn’t control)? But most importantly, why was Jared acting so nice?

“I’ve had bone marrow before, but only in restaurants,” Jared continued. “I didn’t realize it could be done at home.”

“Oh yeah, it’s actually super simple if you can find a good butcher.” You explained.

Jensen interjected. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s been binging The Bear, and now her only goal is to become an Iron Chef.”

You smirked, impressed he even knew what an Iron Chef was. Aside from eating food, anything kitchen-related was the furthest on his interest list. You were rubbing off on him.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “It’s the easiest cheat code appetizer if you want to impress someone. You toast some bread, toss the marrow in the oven for twenty minutes, and add a few accouterments to a serving board. And bam, done.”

Jared laughed, actually laughed. “I’m sure you are underselling yourself. From what Jensen has told me, you are an excellent cook. I can’t wait to see it all come together.”

Jensen glared at Jared out of the side of his eye, the anger resurfacing. He was laying it on thick. Too thick.

You squinted, eyes darting back and forth between them. This wasn’t going to plan. You were supposed to cook the food and then become BFFs with Jared. This was happening too quickly. But perhaps you should take it for what it was. Maybe you had stuck around long enough for him to finally accept you. Or Jensen had talked you up enough. Whatever the reason, you had to stop ruminating on it. All you had to do was get through dinner. Perhaps after, you could corner Jensen into an explanation.

It wasn’t long until you pulled into the parking garage adjoined to the condos. Jensen popped the trunk, surprised to find it empty.

“Where’s your luggage?” He asked, oblivious as his conversation with Jared required most of his mental capacity.

You held up your backpack as a response, and his brow furrowed with confusion.

“What’s wrong? Are you ill?” He pestered, placing the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Shut up.” You snipped and then explained. “I’m practicing becoming a lighter packer.” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “Besides, I recall not needing much clothing last visit.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows, reminiscing, and then nuzzled his nose into your neck in anticipation of this weekend. Jared, having overheard, rolled his eyes and fought a gag. You laughed as Jensen pulled away, his eyelashes tickling your cheeks. And Jared plastered on his fake smile yet again.

“Let’s get upstairs,” He said. “I’m starving.”

-----

Dinner was coming along nicely. You were basting the last of the steaks in butter, and the boys were watching the end of a game in the living room. The thoroughly cleaned plates on the coffee table were the only lingering evidence that there had been appetizers. You snuck a bit here and there, but it was mostly to keep the two of them from sniffing around the kitchen.

With a final splash of liquid, the steak was done—perfect caramelization and crust. Now, the potatoes. You checked the timer—ten minutes, enough time for the steak to rest. And the Brussels? Shit. You scooped the last of them out of the oil in the nick of time. You generously salted them and would add the pomegranate molasses after plating. Satisfied with how it was all wrapping up, you whipped Jensen’s once pristinely white dish towel over your shoulder. There was a shuffling behind you as you began cleaning what you could.

“Need any help?” Jensen asked.

You were about to shoo him out when you heard the scrape of a knife. You snapped your head around to catch him red-handed. He stared at you like a deer in the headlights, the end of one steak pinched between his fingers and the knife hovering millimeters above. You scowled, and Jensen slowly set the knife down, held his hands in surrender, and backed up.

Your scowl melted into a smile. “A couple of minutes longer. If you’d like to help, you can set the table.”

He straightened. “Yes, chef.”

You playfully stuck out your tongue and whipped the dish towel in his direction, earning an exaggerated yelp.

Finally, after a few minutes passed, you brought the final plate to the table and scooched in. Jensen didn’t hesitate and dove in.

With a full mouth, he mumbled, “If this tastes as good as it…” Then it hit him, and his eyes rolled back in pure delight. “Oh god.”

Jared went in a little slower, cutting his steak and bringing it past his lips. He took several testing bites and paused, glaring at you. He was actually glaring at you. Dropping the act, he’d kept up all night, pissed at how good it tasted. He knew what tonight had been about. About you trying to butter him up, quite literally with butter braised steak. And god dammit. It was a good steak. And he was mad about it.

“Fuck.” Jared cursed aloud, snapping your and Jensen’s attention to him. “Fuck, that’s good.”

You smiled sheepishly, looking down at your plate. “I can’t say I’ve had that reaction before. Not quite as orgasmic as I was hoping for, maybe if I adjusted the…” Your face went pale, realizing the last part was out loud.

Jensen snorted, and Jared even cracked a smirk.

“So, um,” You attempted a recovery. “How was work this week?”

A few minutes of silence passed as Jensen gave Jared a chance to answer. When he didn't and caught him glaring again, Jensen kicked his shin under the table, prompting him further.

Jared grunted. “Well, hours weren't as shitty as usual.”

“Cause Collins hasn't been around.” Jensen teasingly interjected.

Jared chuckled. “Yeah, not as many retakes. Finally, it feels like we're making some progress this season.”

You nodded. The three of you looked back and forth, trying to gauge whether it was appropriate to continue the conversation or return to eating.

“What about you?” Jared coughed before going in for another bite.

“Same old.” You simply stated.

Silverware scraped against plates. A clock ticked in the living room. The sounds of the city rose from the streets. You dabbed the corner of your mouth with the black cloth napkin, then considered it. You’d be willing to bet good money this was the first time Jensen ever pulled them out.

Jensen tried again to spark the conversation again. “Should we talk Vegas?”

Your eyes lit up excitedly, ready to discuss a plan and details.

“So, about that,” Jared started. Jensen didn’t hide his scowl, but Jared's eyes widened, challenging him. “It’s not often we get that kind of time off work, and I’m going to meet Gen in Austin.”

Ah, so dinner wasn’t the wondrous miracle you hoped it would be. You cursed yourself for not trying a Wellington. Jensen reached under the table to graze your thigh, trying to communicate that this had nothing to do with you.

“Why doesn’t she join us?” Jensen shrewdly offered.

Jared’s lips formed a thin line before countering. “Actually, we are going to use the time to do some house hunting.” He hesitated for a minute. “We’ve started talking about, um, the next steps in starting our family.”

Kids? Oh god, Jensen was going to be an uncle. He was already an uncle to Harper’s clan, but this was Jared. All the tension momentarily evaporated as you both offered your excitement and congratulations.

“Yeah, our current setup isn’t going to cut it. We need more space, a yard.” Jared explained. “Y/n, are you interested in kids?”

Jensen choked on the last piece of steak, recovering with a swig of wine. The temporary peace was broken yet again.

“Oh, um.” You stammered, trying to think of a response. Every couple (that was serious, that is) had to come across this question. You just didn’t picture you were there yet with Jensen. And you didn’t picture the conversation would come about this way. “Well, I’ve recently only managed to keep a house plant alive, so maybe the next step is like a cat or something before moving onto a…” You gulped. “A child.”

“Hmm. So you haven’t given it much thought?” He clarified.

“I mean,” Heat was rising to your cheeks. “It might not be my first choice, looking after a little drooling, monstrous carbon copy. Don’t get me wrong, I love being Aunt Y/n to my niece but one of my own. It’s a lot of responsibility and sacrifice and time and money… I don’t know. There’s a lot of benefits, too, I’m sure. You and Gen will be fantastic parents!”

“Interesting.” Jared ignored your last comment. “Wasn’t it in Colorado that you said you’d have Jensen’s babies? Or maybe that’s changed after you got to know him more.” He chuckled a bit, trying to conceal it as a joke.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jensen attempted to shut this down.

“No, I never actually said that.” You talked over him and defended yourself. “Casey, a fan, although more than well-meaning, took several liberties that day. A decision that big should require careful consideration rather than something silly like initial attraction or blind devotion, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” he responded sincerely. “Such as your partner’s thoughts on the issue. Gen and I knew immediately that growing our family was an intention for our relationship. Jensen, you’ve always wanted kids, haven’t you?”

If looks could kill, Jared would currently be en route to the nearest morgue. But then he caught a glance at your wide, curious eyes awaiting an answer. There’s no way he would lie about this. Yet, this was the first time the subject of the long-term future had been broached. He swallowed the lump in his throat with another dose of wine, then threw his napkin on his plate.

“I have always seen my future with one or two kiddos running around.” He spoke softly and slowly. “But if my partner wasn’t on board, there’s no way I’d force that upon them. The two of us would always come first.”

Jared raised his eyebrows and nodded, staying silent as he finished his last bite.

You filled the silence instead, unable to handle the pause in conversation. “Similarly, I would never want to deny my future partner if that was something that was really important to them.”

Jensen closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. This wasn’t a relationship-ending kind of conversation. You did share common ground. And it was each other.

“That seems like a lot of sacrifice.” Jared circled back to the earlier point.

“But what is love?” You asked back.

Jensen whined a high-pitched melody under his breath, “Baby, don’t hurt me,” so over this conversation.

But Jared and you were beyond dialed in.

“You want to define that here, tonight?” Jared pushed. “Scholars, philosophers, religions; they’ve been trying to do that since the dawn of humanity.”

“Many of which have brought it back to sacrifice.”

“And many of which have used that ideal to perpetuate cycles of horrendous abuse.”

You pushed your plate aside, needing the space to talk with your hands. “I’m not denying that. But if you are talking on an individual level about two people in love outside of an institution, there are many components, but sacrifice is usually one of them.”

“So you’re arguing you shouldn’t be happy for the sake of the other person?”

“I’m arguing,” You strained. “Both people in the relationship sacrifice for each other, and not only are they happy to do so, but it is a privilege. You lift each other up and balance the other, and there is a net gain rather than elevating one over the other, becoming nothing more than a mere doormat. Trust me, I’ve been around enough narcissists to understand that never ends well.”

“So that’s your conclusion: love is sacrifice?” Jared asked.

Was he trying to trap you? “Like I said, it’s a component. But at the end of the day, I’d say love is a choice. There’s those initial feelings of lust and excitement and newness that will eventually fade away. And you’ll get on each other’s nerves, and there’ll be tears and fighting, and hell, we all get old, and gravity always wins. There’ll be moments where you have to choose. In fact, there’ll probably be moments where you choose not to. At the end of the day, I’d like to end up with someone who is my best friend above all else because you’ll have that to fall back on when it's hard to love.”

Jared didn’t say it contradictory but as a compliment to your point. “Friendship is its own kind of love.” He looked to Jensen apologetically.

“Very true.” You agreed. “What do you think, Jensen?”

Jensen sighed and shook his head. He stood up to start clearing the table. “It’s a mystery. Sometimes love is just love.”

You began stacking the dishes, bringing them to the kitchen as well. “It defies explanation, logic even.” You added.

Jared grabbed the bottle of wine, refilled glasses, and brought the fresh pour to you. “And definition. It’s the ultimate expression of humanity, isn’t it? To wrestle with complex concepts.”

You chuckled, taking a sip. “I guess that’s based on how you define humanity.”

Jared leaned against the counter. “Well…”

Jensen snapped up from putting plates in the dishwasher. “How about a movie?”

Jared lost his train of thought. “I have kind of been in the mood for The Matrix.”

You beamed. Perhaps this disaster of a night wasn’t ruined after all. It would be the perfect opportunity to bring up simulation theory with Jared. From what Jensen told you, Jared loved debating and theorizing over abstract topics. It would be the perfect foot in. Maybe you could impress him after all.

Jensen caught the mischievous look in your eye. He shook his head. “Don’t…”

But you beat him to it. “That sounds perfect!”

---

Later that night, hours after discussing perceived reality, you hovered over the kitchen sink, scrubbing down the remaining mess. Jared was long gone but thanked you for a pleasant evening. Jensen came up behind you, stripped down to his undershirt and briefs. He pulled your waist to his, wrapping his grasp around your hips, and nuzzled closer.

“Come to bed.” He whispered into your neck.

You half-moaned, leaning into his touch. “I just have a few more.”

“That’s what the dishwasher is for.” He said.

You paused and stiffened. “And ruin the finish on this cast iron? You monster.” Jensen gave a light chuckle before closing his eyes against your skin as you continued. “How do you think tonight went?”

He sighed, chewing it over.

“I know.” You agreed. “I should have done the Wellington.” That earned you a pinch to the side. You yelped. “Not when I’m washing the knives!”

“Honestly,” Jensen started. “I don’t know what to think.”

You took a deep gulp and turned off the faucet before turning to face him. You searched his eyes and ran your pruned thumb against his cheek.

“I don’t want to come between you two.” You strained.

He took your hand and his and glided your knuckles across his lips.

“You’re not.” He whispered.

Your glare pierced him.

Jensen continued. “He’s coming around, albeit slowly.” He added as your gaze held, “I promise.”

Your breath released, and the tension left your body, too tired to challenge him further.

“Come on, off to bed.” He instructed.

But you turned around and yawned, “Only a few more.”

Suddenly, you were swooped up and being carried away from the kitchen. “The rest can wait.”

You hit the mattress, immediately sinking into the plush duvet and feathered pillows. Jensen followed, his warmth and weight wrapping around you. The day's weight full of travel, cooking, cleaning, debating, and worrying all hit you instantly. You closed your eyes, darkness quickly closing in. Yet you couldn’t ignore the lips peppering slow, soft kisses at the edge of your navel.

“Mmmm. Jensen, I’m tired.” You moaned over the response your body had to his touch. His fingers danced along the hem of your shirt, trailing higher. Between kisses, he breathed. “You won’t have to do a thing.”

You popped an eye open and raised an eyebrow, looking down at him through the darkness. The city lights illuminated his features. There was a feral glow in his eyes, waiting for that sweet, sweet permission he longed to hear.

“Are you proposing to use me?” You questioned, rubbing your thighs tighter, seeking pressure to alleviate the quickly growing need.

And he knew it, too. A smirk that would impress even the devil crossed his lips. “That depends,” He brought his hand from your ribs, prying your thighs apart, and you whined in response. “Would you like to be used?”

You nodded even though you could barely keep your eyes open, “Very much.”

He made quick work of your clothing, your lazy attempts to help only impeding the process. The cold air of the condo brushed over your skin, providing temporary alertness as your hair rose and you shivered in response. His hands roamed over you, chasing away the chill, replacing the sharpness with tenderness.

Even as you wrestled sleep from taking you, eyes fluttering close, you could feel his eyes on you. From day one, he made it his mission to study you; taking note of every sharp inhale, every squirm, every crease of the brow. He had been a quick and eager student. His hand gently encouraged your legs apart, his hand roving over your core, parting your very soul as he found his mark. Satisfied, his eyes closed, and his head rested against your chest as he let instinct take over.

Dancing on the edge of sleep yet pulled to the waking world by pleasure, your brain couldn’t comprehend thoughts. The worries of the day, the countless insecurities, the what-ifs, they all melted from your mind. The only thing you knew was touch. It was the only constant. The concept of time faded, and at some point unbeknownst to you, fingers had been replaced with lips.

Incoherent words praised his practiced tongue as thoughts attempted and failed to form meaning. Your hand wound through his hair, gripping to hold him in place as you rocked your hips forward. His arms hooked under your legs, lifting you higher, spreading you farther as he lost his need for air. His only purpose in consuming you.

“Jensen.” You mewled his name as a curse. “Please. God, please.”

Teeth scraped against soft flesh, sending you soaring off that endless cliff. You cried out, a slew of fractured speech. Jensen idly continued as you floated back down to reality. Only as breath returned, hungry for air, did he stop, attempting to catch some himself.

“Turn over,” He instructed through the shallow pants. “On your knees.”

You whined, rubbing your face with your palm. “You said I wouldn’t have to do anything.”

He nipped at your inner thigh. “Brat.”

You lazily smiled until he grabbed your sides and flipped you over himself. That woke you up, but only momentarily as he shuffled behind you, allowing you a minute to bury your head deeper into the pillow.

“Oh, I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

An arm snaked under your diaphragm, and you lost your breath as he pulled you up to a kneel, pinning you against his bare, hard flesh. His hands roamed your curves, already mapped in his mind, desperate to bring to fruition what he had imaged during the month apart. A hand came to your throat, gently squeezing, as he tilted it to the side.

“Color?” He cooed into your ear.

You only moaned, too tired for words, grinding your hips back into him, hoping it would prompt this process further along.

“Use your words.” He softly demanded.

“Green.” You placed a hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder. “So fucking green.”

He buried his mouth into the crook of your neck, claiming you, possessing you, undoing you. But two could play this game. With your free hand, you reached behind you, immediately claiming your prize. You stroked up and down his length, stopping at the apex and rolling your grasp.

“Fuck.” He indulged temporarily before taking your hand, guiding it to the top of the headboard.

Your other hand followed suit as he gripped your hips. You arched your back and swayed side to side, inviting him in or, at the very least, enticing him to hurry.

“Patience has never been your strong suit.” He playfully scolded.

As he knocked your knee with his own, spreading you apart further and lower, he bent down, planting long, deliberate kisses on the small of your back. Your eyes fluttered close yet again, your mind at war with your body, demanding sleep. He neared your entrance, testing at first, then surged forward, completely filling you. You cried out, sparks turning to flame as he flooded you. Over and over, he built pace, seeking his own high.

It was unlike anything you had ever known. Nothing existed outside of this claiming rhythm, outside of this mounting heat, outside of this ecstasy. Your mind was blank. Your mind was numb. He was the only thing you had ever known—the only thing you were created for.

His hand gripped your shoulder, arching you deeper, pulling you more flush against his hardness, hitting the deepest parts of you. Your curses and praise garbled together, moans became mute, and blinding pressure rose, threatening to break.

“Come on, Y/n,” Jensen said through ragged pants. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

“Jensen.” You cried, tears spilling over. “I can’t, I’m so tired.”

His grip left your shoulder and joined yours on the headboard, intertwining his fingers with yours as he drove into you over and over and over.

“Yes, you can.” He encouraged. “Tell me where.”

He adjusted, giving you time to assess the effectiveness.

And then, suddenly, “Ah, right there. Fuck, don’t fucking stop.” You squeezed your eyes shut.

He did as he was told, gritting his teeth together, fingers digging into your flesh as he held on. He waited and waited until he felt you close in around him, constricting, demanding he fall off that cliff with you into the deep pool of bright light. Your hands slid from the headboard as you collapsed back onto the mattress. Jensen fell with you, his weight trapping you.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. But eventually, you found your way to the surface again, taking a deep, shuttering breath. Jensen rolled off you onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing in and out, in and out. Sweat outlined his sculpted frame as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. When his heart finally settled, his eyes found yours, and he pulled you close.

You were no longer aware if you were sleeping or awake, but still, you said. “I think it is safe to say we can move ‘exhausted sex’ from the maybe category to any fucking time or day.”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Thank you.”

You groaned. “Oh please, let’s not start that again.”

“Fair.” He agreed and thought of something else to say. “You’ve ruined me.”

“I’ve ruined you?” You corrected. “Sir. You’ve gone and rendered the entirety of the male species inconsequential.”

“Okay,” He challenged, rubbing his eyes. “You can’t be that tired if you can spin that heap of bullcrap.”

You burrowed into the crook of his arm and closed your eyes before mumbling, “It's not bullcrap. You’ve ruined me too.”

His eyes darted back and forth in the darkness, contemplating everything you had said about love and god, even children. He looked back at you. Your breath had slowed and evened out. And he knew his epiphany remained true. His love for you was beyond his initial attraction, curiosity, or, frankly, his blue balls. He’d give it all up if you asked, find some office job, become a cat dad. And then it hit him why, and he chuckled, saving that thought for another day because now sleep was threatening him too, and he might not be thinking rationally.

He kissed your hair and whispered, testing it out loud. “I love you.” A cold, electric shiver ran throughout his being.

He froze as you stirred. “Hmm?”

He chuckled. “What would you think about going public?”

You shot up, fully conscious. Fully alert. Your brow furrowed, trying to comprehend.

“Aren’t we already public? You did ask me out at a convention?”

He also sat up, rubbing his hands through his hair to stir further energy.

“Well, kind of. People know I’m dating, but only a select few know who.” He explained trying to assess your emotions at the same time. “We’ve done a pretty good job keeping a wrap on your identity.”

“Probably ‘cause your ballcap and sunglasses are such a convincing disguise, Clark Kent.” You teased.

“Smartass,” he grumbled. “Probably more likely because I have a good manager and an even better team right now who locked down and scrubbed your social media.” He waited for you and added, “If you don’t want to…”

“No, that’s not it.” You stopped him. “I… Can I think it over?”

“Of course. Take all the time you need; there’s no rush.” He assured.

“I’ll have to talk to some people beforehand. Friends, coworkers, family.” You gritted your teeth. “My mom, she… Well, she might make things difficult.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up so late. We can sleep on it and talk to the team tomorrow. They’ll answer any questions you have and maybe provide some guidance on the hard things.” He bent down to look into your eyes. “Okay?”

You nodded in response.

“Let’s get some rest, yeah?” He encouraged again and pulled you down against him.

But how the fuck were you supposed to sleep now? Your whole world could change overnight. And you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

---

TAGS:

Everything Jackles: @akshi8278

GHTTC: @maggiegirl17 @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @ghostofjoharvelle @ellen-reincarnated1967 @deansgirl79 @chriszgirl92

(Always feel free to ask to be added or removed (I won't be offended))

#supernatural #spn #spn fandom #spn fanfic #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen x y/n

92 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 7 months

Note

idk if you've done this already but

TTN! Reader got pregnant (fr this time!!) perhaps?

I think that would be silly, mostly because of Aunt Janet's reaction to Hobie teasing her in that last TTN oneshot

Yayy!! TTN dad! Hobie!! Thank you for requesting! 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader. Billie and Ramona AU, Dad! Hobie au. Fluff

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie's hand hasn't left your thigh the entire car ride. The new sedan smells like pine and citrus when he practically drenched it in lysol before you got in it, telling you that the last owner probably smoked inside and the baby growing in you would smell it too. You believe him of course, even contributing your own perfume to the mix.

He's been an absolute angel the entire pregnancy, always careful and gentle with you. Of course you miss the days when he would play fight with you but you love him like this too, smooth around the edges but still have his bite that you fell for when you were just kids hanging out.

You stretch your lower back in your seat, swiveling from side to side, the simple movement gets Hobie's attention.

“You alright, Gromit?”

“I'm growing your little spawn, Hobie” you rub your stomach to alleviate the strain, thumb dancing along your maternity dress. You're only four months along the pregnancy but the baby bump is far larger than it's supposed to be. He jokes that you're carrying an army of spiders. “I feel like I'm carrying a full grown baby already.” you groan out.

He kneads your thigh, one hand on the steering wheel, sparing you a quick once over. “By the time Hobie Junior. Comes out he'll be ready for Uni.”

You grimace, craning your neck towards him. “We are not naming our baby Hobie Junior.” He opens his mouth but you beat him to it. “Or Punk Jr. Seriously, why are all your suggestions have Junior in them? What if it's a girl?”

“I thought you wanted to break gender norms? Our daughter could be named Junior.” His teasing smile makes you pout, you blame the hormones. Truthfully, he's been thinking about legit names for both since you two found out.

Huffing, you see him pull over to Janet's shop. “‘Junior Brown?’ No.”

Hobie smiles wider, taking his seatbelt off, he then proceeds to reach over to you, careful of your stomach. “Junior fits with anyone, so Junior it is.” he jokes.

He clicks off the seatbelt before he sneaks a quick kiss to your lips, turning your frown upside down immediately. Going back to his seat, his grin makes your stomach somersault and it's definitely not the baby doing flips.

“I hate you so much, Hobie.” You say with a grin and a chuckle.

“If you did, we wouldn't have Gromit Junior.” he pokes your protruding belly button, leaning on in the middle console of the car, his eyes softened. “D’you want me to call the doctor to book an appointment?” Always attuned to you and your worry, he asks oh so affectionately.

You swear you could cry on the spot, and again you blame the hormones. “Please,” you lean towards him, lips pursed. “This is why we have Gromit junior.”

Hobie chuckles, meeting you halfway. “You blamin’ me—?”

A knock from your side of the window startles you both. His senses would have warned him but it's impossible when your face is so close to him, add the fact that you were ready to smooch the living daylights out of him.

“Shit— oh it's Janet!” Rolling down your window, you give her a big smile. “Hi aunty! Long time no see.”

“Stop making kissy faces with each other and get out here!” She gestures for you to come out, you and Hobie give each other a look. Her cane clacks against the pavement as she gives space for you.

“Love, wait I'll help you down.” Hobie grabs your arm as you open the door.

“Am I that big already?” You look down at your stomach and he winces. “I'm sure I can get down on my own, Hobs.”

He lets go with a nervous chuckle. With your raging hormones pulling you from one emotion to another in a blink of an eye, he's been extra careful to not make you upset.

You reach down on your tiptoes, already finding it hard to see your feet. Janet looks on with wide eyes and mouth agape, she flicks her eyes frantically between your stomach and Hobie who's coming around the car to greet her.

“Hi aunty—.”

“You little shitter!” She exclaims, some pedestrians even turn their heads at the loud booming voice, probably reminding them of their own grandma. “You got her pregnant?! She just got here!”

Hobie has faced many villains but they've never made him this terrified before.

“She's been home for almost two years, Janet—” the older woman grabs Hobie by his shoulder, causing him to slouch down to her height. You watch on with your mouth tightly closed, stifling a laugh. “Ow!”

“Get inside the bloody store!”

You follow behind them, the store's bells ding as you close the door behind you. Hobie asks for your help with a simple look.

“Aunty, it's not all his fault.”

She stops in the middle of the store, letting Hobie go. He returns to your side, hiding behind you. “Oh trust me, I know, it takes two to tango. You look like you're six months in and you haven't thought to tell me?”

Hobie tugs your sleeve, having wordless conversation. You both know exactly why she's upset.

“I'm sorry aunty,” you rub at your bump, voice soft and face apologetic. “It was…unexpected and everything got so hectic that we only remembered today.” You elbow Hobie.

“Yes, we're sorry, aunty. We could name the baby after you if you want?”

You glare at him.

Janet sighs, leaning on her cane, she shakes her head. “You crazy kids. No need to name her after me, I've already got a grandkid named Janet and she's a little troublemaker. Congratulations, truly. I'm really happy for the both of you.”

Hobie half hugs you, hand placed casually on your stomach. Leaning on him, you both smile at Janet, relieved that she didn't hand your asses to you.

“I'm only four months in, not six, aunty.” You leave Hobie's side to hug her. She squeezes back, leaning away to look at your bump.

“Four? Are you sure because you might be carrying more than one?” She asks, eyes narrowed at your stomach. “Or are you just saying that so that I won't get upset that you didn't tell me for six whole months.”

Hobie pipes up, standing further away from Janet. “Scout's honour, aunty. Baby's only four months.”

She looks at you and you nod. “Mm-hmm, we're sure.”

“Huh?” She scratches her head. “You're having more than one, love. It's either that or you're carrying a big one, if that's it then I'm really sorry.” She lets go of a laugh and you look at Hobie like he kicked your dog.

You mouth a ‘big?!’ that makes Hobie stifle a laugh with a shrug.

“Do you guys have bets? I think it's a girl.”

“Bet you five pounds?” Hobie joins in, you place your hands on your hips, rolling your eyes.

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alexfromjersey · 1 year

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𝓓𝓸𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻 𝓥𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓼 & 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓬 𝓠𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

jenna x g!poc

summary: jenna and jah going to the obstetrician. jah asking stupid questions.

warnings: jah being a comedian, mature language, partial smut

a/n: tumblr didn’t save the first draft 😭…anyway enjoy the chapter and a Jenna edit 🤭. also I’m not a medical professional. I tried to look up the actual terminology and stuff to be semi-accurate but I started to lose interest 😂 - 4.3k words

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MAY 2023

“YOU GOT YOUR BACK BLOWN OUT BY KID CUDI?!? WHAT THE FUCK!” You shouted on the phone.

You and Jenna were currently on FaceTime, she was in her last fitting for her Met Gala outfit. She was bored waiting for the designer to come and make potential adjustments. So she called you to entertain her someway. She regrets calling you now.

You were doing your due diligence as a baby mama and friend to watch Jenna’s work. You started with The Babysitter: Killer Queen. It was alright in your opinion, you gave it a 7/10. Next, you watched The Fallout. It made you tear up and you applauded Jenna on her work. You considered it her best character.

Then, you watched both Scream movies and now you’re watching X. She tried to get you to not watch the movie by not even telling you about it. You had to look up her filmography to find out about it.

“You’re so lucky I have my headphones in” Jenna rolled her eyes.

“Nah you ain’t tell me this movie like that. I was jumpscared with so much ass and titties and now I gotta see you have sex with Mr. Day N’ Nite. Insane” You stated.

“I told you not to watch it. Actually I specifically remember withholding the information” Jenna said.

“Hm. They did you dirty by pairing you with that white man though” You shrugged and ate a fistful of popcorn.

“Shut up” Jenna mumbled.

Your eyes slowly drifted away from the movie to the phone screen. Jenna was preoccupied fixing the nail polish on her nails. She was doing something so simple yet captivating. You couldn’t take your eyes off her. The feelings you felt for her was starting to scare you.

“So, Nancy helped me book an appointment with the obstetrician not far from you” Jenna spoke bringing you out your thoughts.

“You did it for here? Why not back in your hometown, you know to be closer with your family” You questioned.

“It was the best one and…I always wanted to live in New York. I also want to be far away as possible from my mother when I tell her that I’m pregnant” Jenna smiled.

You laughed taking in the information, “When’s the appointment?”

“Tomorrow morning, 9am” Jenna replied.

“I’ll be there” You playfully salute to her. You turn your attention back to the movie. It was now on the part where the white man get killed by the old lady brutally.

“Speaking of families, how exactly are you going to tell yours?” Jenna asked.

“I’ll just call my brother and tell him. Now, for my mom, I’m gonna need a police riot shield” You huffed.

"You and I are in the same boat. I'm praying for you more though" Jenna said.

Your head snapped toward her, "Nah, don't say that."

Jenna chuckled at the expression on your face. The door behind her opened and the designer walks in. "I have to go. I'll call you later" Jenna said.

"Okay...wait you don't get your back broken like a glow stick anymore in this movie right?" You jokingly asked.

Instead of a verbal response, you got the sound of the FaceTime call ending. You laughed out loud and placed your phone on the charger and turned back to the movie.

Meanwhile with Jenna, she rolled her eyes secretly amused as she hung up on you. It was starting to get hard for her to ignore the growing feelings she had for you. She stalked your Instagram, staring at each photo for at least 10 minutes. She stayed up late last night and watch all your YouTube videos.

“Okay, since you’re not showing yet. The dress still fits perfectly but we will loosen it up around the waist just touch” Thom complimented.

Jenna looked at herself in the mirror, “I feel good in it. It feels good, I’m really happy with it” Jenna smiled.

Thom and Jenna continued discussing the dress some more before Thom had to leave to another client. He bid Jenna a bye and congratulations and left the building. Now, it was just Enrique, Nancy, Hudson, and Big L in the room.

A phone alert has Jenna snapping her head to her phone but unfortunately it was not her phone that made the sound. Enrique snorts at Jenna’s actions. An embarrassed blushed appears on her face.

“Shut up Enrique” Jenna mumbled.

“I’ve never seen like this before. It’s adorable” Enrique chuckled.

“It’s just hormones” Jenna lied.

“Yeah no it’s not. You know it’s okay to like her right. I mean the both of you kinda skipped a couple of steps but it’s good to backtrack” Enrique joked.

Jenna playfully punched his shoulder which made him laugh. Nancy let out a little giggle at the home. Hudson just grumbled something incoherent to himself.

“What does she look like anyway? I wanna see if your baby is going to be ugly or not” Enrique said.

Jenna rolled her eyes and grabbed her phone. She went to Instagram and went to your profile.

“This is the most recent photo” Jenna said.

liked by jennaortega, davis, and 12,683 people

bronxshiesty no bite marks no scratches and no hickeys

“Oh my….she got a brother?” Enrique asked.

Jenna laughed, “She does actually but he lives in Barbados.”

“I always wanted to go to Barbados. When’s my vacation?” He joked.

Jenna just shook her head while laughing. She carefully took off the dress and Enrique hung it up on the mannequin.

“You know it still hasn’t fully hit me that you’re about to become an actual mother. Shit is wild” Enrique commented.

“You and me both. I downloaded this pregnancy app and currently my baby is the size of a large strawberry” Jenna smiled and placed her hand on her stomach.

“Ain’t all strawberries large though?” Nancy questioned.

“I guess not” Jenna shrugged and sat down in a chair. Her stomach growled loudly.

“Get used to that. You’re gonna wanna eat twice more than usual.” Nancy said.

A text message alert can heard throughout the room. Jenna picked up her phone.

NYC 🩵: yo u got anything else to do today?

Hollywood 🤰🏻: no I’m free for the rest of the day

Hollywood 🤰🏻: why?

NYC 🩵: I want to see you

Jenna’s heart fluttered at the message. She bit her lip and smirked.

Hollywood 🤰🏻: what are we gonna do?

Jenna watched as the text bubbles appear and then disappeared. It happened a few more times before the text bubbles stayed.

NYC 🩵: i mean…whatever you wanna do shawty. I’m down with whatever 😁

“Let me guess, it’s her” Enrique smirked and tried to peek at Jenna’s phone she turned away. “Ohh not y’all sending spicy messages”.

“We’re not sending spicy messages. She just said she wants to see me” Jenna smiled.

“See you as in watching movies or see you as in Neighbors know my name?” Enrique joked.

Suddenly, a loud slam can be heard throughout the room. Everyone looked confused at the sudden sound and disappearance of Hudson. But shrugged it off.

Hollywood 🤰🏻: I’m hungry

NYC 🩵: what u want

Hollywood 🤰🏻: seafood

NYC 🩵: u like seafood boils? I know a banging spot that I can get

Hollywood 🤰🏻: absolutely

NYC 🩵: bet 🫡

“You’re all finished for the day Jenna. Go spend it with your baby momma” Nancy said.

“Thanks guys” Jenna said and grabbed her things. She hugged Enrique and Nancy before walking to the door.

“Don’t get pregnant…oh wait” Enrique joked.

Jenna stuck up her middle finger and Enrique and Nancy’s laugh can be heard as she left the room.

🤰🏻🩵

45 minutes later, Jenna finally arrived at your apartment. She texted you that you were here. A couple of minutes later, you came down in a gray tank top, gray shorts, and your slides.

“Yo Hollywood” You greeted and helped her out of the SUV. Jenna smiled and wrapped her arms around your waist. It was unexpected but you wrapped your free arm around her back and hugged her tight.

Jenna looked up you with a certain spark in her eyes. You noticed but decided to look away from her.

“Big L, I got you a boil too. You ain’t allergic to seafood right?” You asked.

“Nah I’m not. Appreciate it though” Big L said appreciative and took the bag of food. You nodded in response.

The two of you then head into the apartment complex. You lived on the 6th floor of the building, the nicest floor out the entire building. When you applied for the place, the landlord tried to stick you in a moldy and roaches infested apartment but one of the neighbors put you on game and helped you get this one.

“Welcome to mi casa” You said as you walked into your apartment. It was two bedroom and one bathroom. Their was music softly playing throughout the apartment from your speaker on the counter.

Jenna looked around the thankfully, clean apartment.

“Not bad” Jenna playfully shrugged.

“Yeah it’s not the high rise, plants in the windows, Hollywood type of apartment but it’s something” You chuckled.

Jenna giggled and sat down at the dining table with the food.

“I didn’t get yours with sauce on it. I got it on the side, it’s a Cajun style sauce and it’s a little spicy. I looked up if pregnant woman can eat spicy stuff, they said it was safe but might cause heartburn or indigestion so I also got a lemon garlic sauce too just in case.” You ranted.

Jenna looked at you with admiration in her eyes, “Thank you. I like spicy stuff so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

You smiled and the two of you engaged in a light conversation as you ate. You took the sausages from her bag and you gave her your corn. You also helped her with cracking the crab legs open and showing her how to get the meat in one piece.

You and Jenna finish your food and clean up before sitting on the couch. You sat in the middle while she sat at the end with her back against the armrest and her feet in your lap.

“Are you wishing for a boy or girl?” Jenna asked.

“I’m wishing for a healthy baby. I genuinely don’t care if it’s a boy or girl” You shrugged.

“Good answer. I want a girl though” Jenna said.

“That’s surprising. Most mothers want boys” You said.

“Girls are more fun in my opinion. But either way I’m going to love our child regardless of gender” Jenna stated.

She then sat up, scooted closer, and looked at the number tattoo on your wrist. “What’s this mean?”

“It’s my angel number. 555. It’s means change. Changes are coming and that I shouldn’t be worry or scared just have trust in the process” You explained.

“What about this one?” Jenna said as she pointed to another tattoo. This one was a small writing.

“Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes. It was my second ever tattoo. Believe it or not I was a shy kid before my junior year. I used to let people walk over me and bully me and take me for advantage. That was until the last day of sophomore year, I was on the yearbook committee and I had a really good idea but I was too scared and one of the other students stole it and took credit for it. My yearbook teacher pulled me aside one day and told me she knew I was the one that came with the idea. She told me, “you’re never going to get what you want if you never speak up. Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes because you never know who could be listening”. It’s a quote that stuck with me ever since” You explained.

“You had a great teacher” Jenna commented.

“Yeah, she reached out to me a couple of months ago and told me she loved my videos. It was wholesome” You smiled. Your hand start to rub her thigh unconsciously. “What about you? You got any ink?” You asked.

“Nope. I want one though. Maybe for my first one I’ll get our baby’s name behind my ear” Jenna answered. You nodded in response and continued rubbing her thigh. Your eyes kept looking down to her soft lips.

You wanted to feel them on yours, it’s been a minute since you felt any intimacy. You were longing for her soft touch.

Jenna’s eyes traveled down to your hand. She was starting to grow hot. Her hormones making it very difficult to keep in check.

“Jah?” Jenna called out.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response.

“Kiss me” Jenna demanded softly.

You leaned in and connected your lips to hers. Jenna immediately deepened the kiss as soon as she could. She climbed into your lap and her hands were placed on your cheeks. You placed your hands on hips. The kiss was starting to get sloppy and eager.

Jenna pulled away and took off her top leaving her in her navy blue bra. Her lips then latched onto your neck.

“You know…we should…talk about our relationship” You struggled to get out due to the pleasure.

Jenna placed butterfly kisses on your neck until her lips found your pulse. She then began to suck on the area. Your hands gripped her waist tighter and a small hiss escaped your lips. She smirked against you, happy that she found your sweet spot. She continued sucking until she felt satisfied with the hickey she left on your skin.

Your lips connect once more, your tongues clash and you slide your right hand up her back. Your fingers find her bra strap and with one hand you undo it. You help her pull it off your body. This time your lips leaves hers and attach them to her sweet spot. A sigh of pleasure leaves her lips and her hand gets tangled in your hair.

Your left hand grabs onto her slightly larger breast and begins to massage them.

Thank god for this pregnancy.

Your fingers rolling and pleasurably tugging at her hardened nub. The hand in your hair start to scratch at your scalp which felt really good. You take your attention away from her hickey littered neck.

Yikes, her make up person is going to have a field day with that.

Your lips clamp around her nub. Your tongue swipe over it a few times before sucking on it.

“Oh my god” Jenna moaned softly.

You let your teeth graze over it just a tad bit before switching your attention to the other breast. While you were giving her breasts attention, Jenna slipped down a little to sit on your knees before her hand found it’s way into your sweatpants. Her warm hand quickly found their prize. The long and girthy beast that was growing in your pants.

You pull away from her breasts and look into her lust filled eyes. You lifted your hips and pushed your sweatpants along with your underwear off your hips. Jenna got up from your legs and pushed the rest of it off your legs. She got on her knees in front of you.

Her small hand wrapped around your third leg. It jerked in her hand at her touch which she smirked at. She placed small kisses up and down your shaft until she got to the tip. Her tongue circled around it, her eyes never leaving yours. You lick your lips as she takes you into her mouth.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your head fell back against the cushions and your right hand tangle themselves in her hair.

One hand at the base of your shaft and the other rested on your thigh. Jenna started to bob her head up and down. Her muffled moans sending vibrations against your member which made you hiss.

“Damn girl” You hissed and licked your lips. You pushed her head down farther. You were deep in her throat, tears were pooling in her eyes. Jenna then took you fully in her mouth, her nose was touching your pelvic area. Your eyes slightly widened, you can feel her uvula grazing across you. She stayed there for a second, flexing her throat until it got hard to breathe and she pulled you out of her mouth. Her hand continuing to pump your length.

Once she got her breath back, she swallowed you while again. You grabbed a fistful of her hair and helped her bob her head up and down at a fast pace.

You were close, the knot in your stomach started to tighten.

“Fuck Jenna” You moaned.

Her nails dug into your thigh, enjoying the way your tip abused the back of her throat. You start to pant as you got closer and closer. Before you knew it, you halted her head before you felt your length twitch as it emptied into her mouth.

You relaxed into the couch, sweat glistening on your face. Jenna milked you for every last drop before she pulled you out of her mouth. She showed you the thick substance in her mouth before closing it and swallowing.

“Me gusta esa mierda extraña (I like that freaky shit)” You spoke.

“You know even though it’s sexy. It’s not fair when you speak Spanish knowing I have no clue what you’re saying” Jenna pouted.

“Chupa para chuparte fraude (Sucks to suck you fraud)” You shrugged with a chuckle.

Jenna sucks her teeth before standing up. She goes to walk away but you grab her hand.

“I’m joking. I’ll teach you Spanish if you want me too” You said. She stood in front of you. You pulled her down and interlocked your lips again. This kiss you guys took it slow, building the mood again, even though it technically never left. You pulled her pants down her legs until she kicked them off somewhere.

You stood up and hoisted Jenna up. She wrapped her legs around your waist. You walked until her back made contact with the wall in your bedroom. Your fingers pulled her underwear to the side and you ran your middle finger through her folds.

Damn, she was mad wet. She got that WAP.

Your middle finger massaged her clit. A whine left her lips as you flicked her clit and her hand gripped the back of your neck.

“Jah…” She moaned.

Unbeknownst to you, she was close to the edge. Usually, she lasts a lot longer than this. You barely touched her and she was already close to the edge. This pregnancy was making everything heightened.

You pull her from the wall and lay her on the bed. You were on your knees to the side of you, you took her underwear off before you slipped your middle and ring finger inside her.

“Fuck!” Jenna gasped.

Your long fingers worked their magic, quickly finding the rough spongy spot inside her. A loud moan ripped through her as she arched her back. Her hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

“I’m…about to cu-” Jenna choked on her words as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. She stilled with her back arched to sky and eyes squeezed shut. There was a pool under her and your hand was soaked to the max.

You were slightly surprised at how fast she came. You didn’t complain though.

“Holy shit, that was intense” Jenna swallowed harshly. She relaxed her body on your bed, her chest was still rising and falling rapidly.

“I’m good at what I do” You smirked.

Exhaustion creeped in and Jenna struggled to keep her eyes open.

“No way I just fingered you to sleep” You laughed.

“Shut up” Jenna mumbled sleepily.

You chuckled as you grabbed some boxers from your drawer and pulled them on. You grab an old T-shirt from your drawer.

“Here put this on” You said and handed her the T-shirt. Jenna lazily put it on while you changed the blanket on your bed. Jenna crawled into your soft queen sized bed and curled up in your blanket.

You locked up your place and put the blanket and her clothes in the wash. Before going back to your room to see Jenna fast asleep. You climbed in the bed and stared up at the ceiling. As soon as you closed your eyes, you felt Jenna scoot closer to you. You turned your head towards her to see her grabbing your hand. You placed your hand in hers and she placed it on her stomach. You turned your body to her, spooning her. She relaxed into your hold and fell back asleep. You soon followed with a big smile on your face.

🤰🏻🩵

It was the next morning, you and Jenna were currently at the obstetrician's office waiting for the doctor to return to do the physical exam. The two of you got to know Dr. Nightngale better and vice versa. Her daughter was a fan of Jenna's which didn't bother or surprise the girl.

When it came down to asking questions about the other parent, Dr. Nightingale was stunned to learn that you were. Questions were thrown at you, which didn't bother you. You were used to people asking questions about being intersex. You were asked questions about it from the minute you could speak full sentences.

When you were younger, you used to go into full details but they got boring real quick. So you opted to tell people a quick summary. Which was 'I was an experiment from Area 51. My father was a spy that fell in love with an alien'. Most people didn't find it funny.

“What to expect when expecting?” You read aloud. It was a pamphlet that you picked up from the front desk. All morning you were reading up on anything related to pregnancy. You wanted to at least have a little bit of knowledge of what’s happening. Plus, it was kinda interesting learning about everything.

“Holy shit” You gasped as you were instantly hit with the sight of a stretched-out vagina…not the kind of stretched you want.

You look at the pamphlet with a disgusted look and then over to Jenna. The girl looking at you with an amused expression.

“I’m so sorry” You apologize to the girl.

A knock on the door was heard and Dr. Nightingale came in.

“Alright, Ms. Ortega and Ms. Jimenez are you guys ready to see your little bundle of joy," Dr. Nightingale asked.

Jenna was laid back in the exam chair with a sheet covering her breasts. Her slightly protruding belly was out in the open. You got up to stand next Jenna and also see the screen. You felt a shaking hand grab yours.

"You okay?" You asked the shaking girl.

"I'm nervous. I'm finally realizing how real this is" Jenna gulped.

"It's normal to be nervous. But I'm right here." You reassured the girl. She gave you a smile and a quick squeeze of your hand. Dr. Nightingale smiled at the interaction between the two of you. She put the gel on the medical instrument.

"Okay, this is going to be cold." Dr. Nightingale warned. She put the instrument on Jenna's belly, who flinched slightly at the sudden coldness of the gel. She moved the instrument around a little before a little body appears on the screen. The room was then filled with a rhythmic thumping.

"Oh my god" Jenna gasped at the screen. Her eyes started to fill up with tears at the sight. You, on the other hand, couldn't stop looking at the screen. You had a huge smile on your face.

"Your baby has a strong heartbeat. You are about 11 weeks pregnant. 2 months almost 3 if you like to go by months. Judging by the date of conception, you are due to give birth on November 28. But there's also a possibility that you could give birth in December" Dr. Nightingale said. She starts to take pictures of the baby.

“A Sagittarius baby…oh lord” Jenna joked.

“Better than a Scorpio” You shrugged.

Dr. Nightingale continued the exam. Everything coming up clear for both the baby and Jenna which you were happy about.

“When are we able to know the gender?” Jenna asked.

“By 14 weeks but I like to do it around 19-20 week mark so it can be accurate” Dr. Nightingale asked.

“What about sex?” You impulsively asked.

“Jah” Jenna sighed and rolled her eyes.

“What? It’s a smart question to ask” You defended.

Dr. Nightingale laughed, “One of the most common questions we get. Sex is completely fine to continue doing. It’s actually beneficial, it can ease discomfort or pain, great for physical health, and a good partner bonding experience. But I would highly recommend still using condoms because STI/STDs are still a thing.”

You smirked and nodded at the response. Jenna just smack your arm as she rolled her eyes.

“Any more questions?” Dr. Nightingale asked.

The both of you shook your heads no.

“Okay, well that is it for today. I’ll see you guys next month. Congratulations to you both” The older woman smiled and left the room. You helped Jenna wipe the gel off her stomach and she puts her shirt back on.

“You know…last night I said something to you. We were kind of busy so I don’t know if you heard me” You said.

“What did you say?” Jenna asked.

“I said we should talk about this. You know…us” You gestured to the two of you.

“What’s there to talk about? We’re just two people who had sex and are now having a baby together.” Jenna shrugged.

You furrowed your face, “Is that how you see us? Just two people having a baby?”

“Not just two complete strangers. Like friends” Jenna said. She watched you as you stared at her with no emotion on your face.

“Friends” You muttered and nodded.

Not gonna lie, the statement hurt you. You didn’t want to be just friends with her. You wanted to be more. You liked her and you thought she liked you too but you guess wrong. You respected her decision though despite the mental pain it brought you.

Just friends…

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @raven-ss @fanboy7794 @morganismspam23 @cinffy23 @darklron @cheesybacon1 @octavias-next-meat-bite @playboysaleen @niqmandu

#Spotify #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #g!p reader #jenna ortega x oc #nycxhollywood

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