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dirtyvulture · 11 days ago

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The Maid

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4663

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: I was reading a book series and got this idea. Enjoy!

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say, poking at the sad bowl of cereal before you.

“Why not?” Your wife frowns at you from across the kitchen.

“Because we’re doing fine! We don’t need any extra help,” you emphasize.

“You’re not the one stuck at home all day cleaning the house and cooking all the meals,” she snaps. Your eyes shift to the bowl of cereal you’d had to make yourself because she was too busy at her pilates class to cook you anything more substantial.

“This house is huge compared to our old one,” your wife continues. “And if you’re not going to help me around here, I’m going to hire someone who will.” Annoyance burns in your chest because you run your own company full-time, and your wife inherited all her wealth from her parents and hadn’t worked a real job in her entire life. “Besides, Steve’s the one who recommended her and he said she’s been really helpful to his family.”

“You seem to spend a lot of time talking to Steve,” you note, although you feel guilty for calling out your neighbor across the street. You’d spoken to him a few times and he seemed like a decent guy, but you weren’t stupid enough to not notice how often your wife would find her way over to his lawn multiple times a week.

“You’re at work all day and don’t answer your phone half the time,” she says. “You don’t expect me to stay in this gigantic house all by myself doing chores, do you? I’m not a house servant, Y/N.”

“No, of course you’re not,” you apologize. You glance at the Omega watch that had been an engagement gift from your wife. “Hey, I have to get going to work now.” Dutifully, you bring your bowl over to the sink and stop to kiss your wife on the way there. “I’ll see you later, honey.”

“Remember, the pool guy is coming at noon so you need to be back before then,” she says. “I don’t want to be left by myself with him.”

“Okay, I’ll try.” You’re not sure why she’s so nervous around the pool technician; he was about 30 years older than the both of you and had been very sweet and professional when he came to give you a quote for the maintenance.

“No, don’t try. Do it,” she insists.

You try to hold in your sigh. “Yes, dear.”

***********************************************************************

Natasha curses to herself as she drags her vacuum cleaner and basket of cleaning supplies up the sidewalk to your home. Your wife–Mrs. L/N, as she had asked Natasha to call her, while you had no problem being on a first name basis with her–had told Natasha she didn’t want her parking in front of your house, requiring her to park around the corner. Which wouldn’t have been a significant issue except it meant Natasha had to lug everything to your house every time she stopped by.

“Do you need any help, Nat?” Steve Rogers, the friendly neighbor whom she also worked for, waved at her from across the street.

“No, no, I’m fine!” she squeaks, not wanting to bother him. But Steve, ever the gentleman, runs over anyway and she has no choice but to turn over her supplies to him.

“You know, you can always just park in front of my house,” he offers, bundling the items in his muscular arms.

“That’s okay,” Natasha says. “Mrs. L/N made it very clear that as much as she needs my help, she doesn’t want people to know I’m here.”

Steve doesn’t argue with her and walks her to your front door. “Well, if you ever need anything–”

“Natasha! You’re late!” The front door swings open and Natasha finds herself face-to-face with your wife. “Oh, hello, Steven.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and bats her eyelashes at him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I was just helping Natasha with her things,” Steve explains.

“Oh, don’t worry about her. She can handle herself. Right, Natasha?” She turns a judgmental eye on Natasha.

“I appreciate the help, Steve,” is all Natasha says.

“You’re welcome. See you both later!” He quickly jogs back to his home.

Mrs. L/N ushers Natasha into the house. “I left a grocery list on the kitchen counter for you. If you can’t find something, please call me before you pick any substitutions,” she instructs briskly. “I have to go out to the HOA meeting, but Y/N should be home by noon before the pool man comes. Do not let him into the yard if Y/N or me are not home yet, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Natasha nods her head, fighting the urge not to roll her eyes at this lady.

“Good.” She leaves towards the garage and Natasha can hear the purr of her Mercedes starting up.

It was Natasha’s second week working for your family, and she hated nearly every second of it–mostly because of your spoiled, bratty wife. But the few times Natasha had met you, she thought you were as kind and charming as could be (and very nice to look at). She wondered how the two of you had gotten together in the first place and what you saw in your wife. She was one of the bossiest clients Natasha had ever had, and Natasha had seen her be not much nicer to you. Plus, she was definitely hitting on Steve, but Natasha knows he wouldn’t cheat on his wife with yours.

She dumps her supplies in the foyer, then goes into the kitchen to find the grocery list. It only takes a single glance to know that your wife is totally fucking with her–what the hell is a rambutan? Natasha sighs loudly, wishing there were someone around to hear her distress. As much as she wants to quit working for your family, she needs the money. And she was still so new to the business, she couldn’t afford to make any bad impressions.

With another sigh, she balls the grocery list into her fist and heads back out.

***********************************************************************

Natasha returns from her grocery trip just in time to see you pull into the garage in your bright green luxury sports car she doesn’t even recognize the manufacturer’s logo of. You get out and wave to her and she smiles back, almost forgetting the awful phone call she had to make to your wife when she searched the entire store and still couldn’t locate the rambutans (she ended up having to make a separate trip to Whole Foods for them).

“Hi, Natasha!” you say, running down the driveway to help her with the grocery bags.

“Oh, don’t worry about these,” Natasha says, trying to swat your hands away. “It’s my job to take them into the house–”

“No, let me help,” you insist, scooping up four bags in one hand in one go. “Oh! Rambutans. These are my favorite. Thank you for finding them.”

Instantly, Natasha wants to take back all the curses she had put on the spiky red fruit. “It was nothing,” she lies, making a mental note to buy out the store’s entire stock for you the next time she goes.

With your help, it takes half the amount of time to get all the groceries in the house. You also insist on helping her put everything away, showing her the proper drawers in the fridge for the fruit and vegetables versus the meat, and where the cereals went in the pantry. Natasha is beyond grateful for you; she knows your wife would have happily stood there and watched her struggle, then loudly criticized her for not knowing better.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, her hand inadvertently brushing yours when you pass her the last bag of apples. She withdraws from you almost too quickly, her skin hot where you touched her, but you don’t seem to notice, distracted by the ringing of the doorbell.

“That must be Stan.” You dash off to meet the pool man.

Natasha fills the dishwasher as much as she can and starts in, then goes to finish washing the oddly-shaped pots and pans that didn’t fit in the sink. The kitchen window looks out to your yard that is probably bigger than the footprint of her entire apartment complex. The pool has two different levels, but both are filled with a suspicious green water. You’re standing poolside talking to Stan, an older gentleman whom Natasha personally knew to be very kind from her few interactions with him when he conducted work on the neighborhood pool’s.

She’s so busy looking at you, fantasizing about a life where this big house could be hers, with a doting partner who would take care of her and raise a family with her, she doesn’t hear the front door opening until she hears the unholy screech from your wife.

“Natasha, what are you doing?” she yells, hurrying over and snatching the soapy sponge right out of Natasha’s gloved hand.

“Um–the dishes? They didn’t all fit in the dishwasher–”

“You turned on the dishwasher?” Her eyes grow wide and her mouth drops like Natasha’s just confessed to a murder. “Didn’t I tell you we don’t run the dishwasher before seven p.m.?” Natasha is certain she’s never heard this instruction before in her life and watches as she rushes over to turn off the dishwasher mid-cycle and throw it open. “Also, you didn’t pack this correctly, you definitely could’ve fit those pots in here.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll rearrange it now,” Natasha says, trying not to get flustered. Surely your wife wouldn’t fire her over such a minor transgression, would she?

“Is Stan here yet?” she asks, but before Natasha can answer, she is interrupted by a shout and a splash. Both of them crane their necks to look out the window, where they can see Stan floating facedown in the pool. You’re kicking your shoes off and throwing your phone onto the lawn before you run up to the pool’s edge and dive in with a form that would rival an Olympic swimmer’s. Your wife screams and darts towards the back door, Natasha following right behind her.

“Y/N! What are you doing?”

“He fell in!” you answer, coughing out water as you loop your arms under the elderly man and kick back towards the stairs. “He just zoned out when he was talking to me and suddenly tipped over into the pool. I think he’s having a seizure.”

“I’ll call 911!” Natasha offers, not wanting to be as useless as your wife. She struggles to get her phone out of her pocket and punches in the number with shaky fingers.

Your wife hovers by the pool stairs, making no move to assist you as you struggle to drag the old man out, clearly weighed down by the water drenching both of your clothes. Stan is holding himself in a position so stiff it reminds Natasha of a mannequin.

“Ugh, don’t get me wet, Y/N!” your wife complains as the brackish water sprays everywhere.

“I’m trying not to!” you snap, gently laying Stan on the grass.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” a dispatcher picks up.

“Hello? Yes, I’m at 2800 Sherwood Drive. There’s a man here who fell into the pool and we just got him out, but he’s having some kind of medical episode,” Natasha says, putting her phone on speaker. The dispatcher asks if he’s breathing and you confirm.

“Can roll him to his side and stabilize his head?”

Without hesitation, you peel off your shirt and roll it into a soggy ball, gently tucking it under the man’s head like a makeshift pillow. Natasha tries not to stare at your nicely sculpted torso, highlighted further by the water droplets on your skin, but her face burns in shame when she sees your wife glaring at her ogling.

“Okay, his head is stabilized!” you call out.

��Perfect, emergency services are two minutes away.”

“Thank you.”

It’s a big scene at the house by the time the ambulance pulls up. Your wife eventually covers you up with a towel, but you’re insistent on waiting outside for Stan to be carefully loaded into the ambulance before you finally allow your wife to usher you back into the house, still dripping water everywhere.

“Thank you for the help today, Natasha,” you say, reaching out to give her shoulder a gentle pat as you walk by her towards the house. Natasha doesn’t even know how to respond but nods furiously and mumbles that “she didn’t help much.”

“You can go now, Natasha,” your wife says curtly, and Natasha doesn’t question her and practically flees the premise.

***********************************************************************

It’s been a few weeks since the pool incident and Natasha is barely able to hold onto her sanity with the never-ending list of ridiculous tasks from your wife. When she holds a fundraiser meeting for a charity Natasha is sure she made up on her own, she calls on Natasha as her personal servant, forcing her to serve a collection of the snobbiest women in the neighborhood. Maybe I should take up meditation, Natasha thinks to herself as she prepares a third pitcher of iced tea because the first two “did not have the right balance of sugar to tea,” according to your wife, despite that Natasha had put in exactly one-third cup of sugar as requested.

Natasha doesn’t see you much around the house anymore, and she wonders if your wife purposely scheduled her around your work hours, or told you to stay away from her. She wants to ask you if there were any updates about Stan’s condition (there was no way she was going to get that information from your wife). She missed hearing your voice and seeing your smile…wait.

She shakes her head–she shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. You’re her employer and you’re married (to a bitch). It would be entirely inappropriate and dangerous to pursue you, so she would just have to make do with ogling you from afar. Besides, a lot of her clients did not show her respect, likely due to the nature of her job, so just because you were courteous and respectful towards her, didn’t mean you felt a specific way about her.

“You know, Y/N used to be fat.” Natasha startles when your wife walks up behind her. She almost drops the picture frame she’d been dusting of the two of you on a beach, holding hands as you walked towards the sunset in the background.

“Excuse me?” Natasha asks.

“Fat and poor,” Mrs. L/N adds, much to Natasha’s horror.

“That’s an awful thing to say about your partner,” Natasha says.

She shrugs. “I don’t want anything to be sugarcoated for you. All of this–” She gestures around to the grandiose-ness of the house, and points to a more recent photo of you, where you’re carrying your wife in your arms, the bulge of your biceps and wideness of your shoulders stretching out your shirt. “–was not a thing when we first started dating. I was there when Y/N had nothing and was no one.”

“Okay.” Natasha wonders why she’s acting like she did you a favor, when you are clearly the catch in the relationship. But then it suddenly dawns on her the reason she’s saying this is because she knows Natasha might have a small crush on you.

“Y/N would never leave me, because I was there from the beginning,” Mrs. L/N says loftily.

“Of course,” Natasha says, fearing she has made a terrible mistake. “Y/N must be very lucky to have you.”

“You have no idea,” your wife smirks. “So let me be a reminder to keep things professional in my house. I’d hate for you to lose your job here. As far as I know, this is the only neighborhood that employs you, and your reputation is everything, isn’t it? One bad review could spoil the whole bunch, and you’d be off having to peddle your services elsewhere.” Icy fear pits at the bottom of Natasha’s stomach. “That is, if the police don’t pick you up first.”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha whispers, even though she knows exactly what Mrs. L/N is talking about. She had been foolish to assume her past would never follow her, but how could your wife have found out? Clint had assured her that with a new name and a new location, she’d be untraceable.

“Because they’d have to arrest you from stealing Y/N away from me,” Mrs. L/N laughs shrilly. Natasha chuckles nervously, although she was certain adultery was not a punishable offense in the state. “But I’m just joking. That would never happen, right?”

“Never,” Natasha promises, hoping her cover will stay hidden for now.

“Good.”

***********************************************************************

“How was your day at work, honey?”

“Busy,” you grunt, moodily poking at the chicken pot pie Natasha had made before she went home. The food tastes good–it’s better than anything your wife has ever cooked, you think privately, but you don’t have much of an appetite. The end of the financial quarter was rapidly approaching and it had become extremely apparent to you that the profits of your company were not outweighing the expenses for the third quarter in a row. You were digging yourself a bigger and bigger grave, dipping into your personal investments to pay your way out of debt. It was the most stressful period of your life, with no relief in sight, and your wife wouldn’t understand the pressure.

“Sorry to hear that,” she says, although her words don’t come across as very genuine. “My day wasn’t so great either. I got into an argument earlier with Mrs. Harkness at the HOA meeting.” Your wife clicks her tongue. “Some of these women will go to war over their lawn decorations, I swear.”

A jab bubbles on the tip of your tongue; was she really trying to compare an HOA meeting to your very real, very stressful job running a business? But you stay quiet, shoveling another spoonful of pot pie into your mouth.

“Where’s Natasha?” you ask. Usually she stayed around for dinner (not that your wife would let her sit at the same table as you), but you hadn’t seen her in the house for a while.

“I ran out of time today, so I sent her out to grab some things for tomorrow,” she answers. When Natasha had first been hired, you had been under the impression that she was exclusively a housekeeper, helping with all the household chores your wife couldn’t complete. But you had heard about her running grocery trips and waiting on your wife and her friends during meetings, turning Natasha into more of a personal assistant than anything. You hoped she was okay with that; you knew how demanding your wife could be sometimes.

“Oh, okay.” You finish your helping of pot pie in silence, then go to place your plate in the dishwasher, before going into the bedroom to retire for the night. As you’re washing your face in the sink, you hear your wife pad up behind her.

“Sorry you’ve been really stressed lately,” she says, rubbing her hand up and down your arm.

“It’s not your fault,” you respond, drying your face on a towel, going back into the bedroom to find your pajamas so you can take a shower.

“Y/N.” Your wife stops you as you’re searching through the dresser for your pajamas. When you look at her, she’s eyeing you with her bottom lip between her teeth. She struts towards you, slowly sinking to her knees and looking up at you. “Maybe I can do something to make you feel better?”

With you being so busy with work and her busy with the new move, the two of you hardly had time for each other. Plus, your wife tended to be on the particular side and never seemed to be in the mood if you initiated. It was a little frustrating sometimes, but you found ways to cope and besides, it did make the times she was ready for you all the more enjoyable.

She pulls down your pants, palming at your boxers and causing you to groan. You unbutton your shirt as you feel your body start to heat up and let it slide off your shoulders.

“Fuck, don’t tease me,” you grunt when she leans forward and nibbles on the exposed flesh of your thigh.

“You need to savor the moment,” she says, although you can tell she’s just as impatient when she hooks her fingers into the waistband of your boxers and draws them down to the floor. Your heavy cock bobs out, slapping against your abs before your wife grabs onto it and brings it to her mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, tipping your head back when you feel her lips wrap around your cock. You wrap your hand in her hair, pumping your hips forward to sink your length into the heat of her throat. She grips onto your thighs to steady herself, the faintest of choking noise escaping her. You grunt in satisfaction, thrusting a little harder until the tip of your cock bumps the back of her throat. She whines louder, but doesn’t pull away, and your knees are practically shaking at the sight of her deepthroating all of you.

“You’re doing so well,” you praise and her cheeks flush red. “Are you gonna let me finish in your mouth?” you ask, and she nods in response, the movement causing a burst of pre-cum to leak out of your cock. You stroke a stray hair out of her face so you can look into her eyes when you finish. “That’s my good girl.”

***********************************************************************

Natasha lets herself into your home, juggling three heavy bags that she’s pretty sure are cutting off the circulation to her fingers. She passes by the kitchen, confused to see it empty; when she had left the two of you were just settling down to eat. She puts the bags by the foot of the table, recalling the time Mrs. L/N had screamed at her for putting “dirty outside bags” on the place where you ate. She wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

Checking her phone, Natasha sees that your wife had sent her a text less than five minutes ago.

Natasha sighs. It had already been a long day, but she wasn’t given an ounce of leeway. She knows better than to walk away from an unfinished task (especially around your wife), so she trudges up the stairs and turns into the guest room. Hopefully her presence can go unnoticed, and your wife will magically find the folded clothes long after Natasha is gone.

There are a total of three shirts and a pair of jeans left to fold. Natasha knows it would be too much to ask your wife to do on her own. She grits her teeth and folds the clothes, taking the better part of a minute, then looks around and realizes she doesn’t remember where she put the laundry basket.

Maybe she had already brought it to the master bedroom, but she knew she couldn’t just leave it on the guest bed, or your wife would probably fire her. Natasha gathers up the clothes and walks down the hall to the master bedroom, but freezes in her tracks when she hears noises coming out of the bedroom.

Moaning noises, specifically.

Natasha can’t stop herself as she moves closer to the door, positioning herself to peer through the crack in between the door and the wall. She sees your wife on her knees, her head bobbing against your waist as you stand there, half-naked, moaning and thrusting your hips forward.

Natasha feels like she can’t breathe, totally shocked and embarrassed to have caught the two of you in a moment. She has a strange sense that your wife had set her up like this on purpose, but the thought quickly dissipates as she finds herself moving closer to the door.

“That’s my good girl.”

Natasha’s stomach flips when she hears you say this, even though it isn’t directed to her. But maybe one day it could be.

She’s practically pressed up against the door, the fear of being caught burning away in her eagerness to keep watching you. The way the muscles in your stomach and thighs flex as your hips roll in a sinful rhythm. Natasha is almost ashamed at how fast she feels the arousal building in her own stomach.

You grunt louder and slow down as you seem to near release. Natasha can’t help but wonder what you must taste like and if she could even fit you down her throat. Your wife seems to be struggling with your size, but Natasha would do everything in her power to make you happy and not let any drop go to waste.

Without warning, your wife removes you from her mouth. Both you and Natasha gasp–you probably in frustration, and Natasha because she’s shocked at how big you are. Your cock is shiny with saliva and pre-cum and is so hard it looks like it’s about to burst.

“I didn’t finish,” you whine as your wife stands up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She puts her hand on your chest and pushes you back until you stumble onto the bed.

“I know. But I don’t want you to finish in my mouth, I want you to finish inside me.”

“Oh.” Your wife takes off her pants and climbs onto you.

Natasha knows how wrong it is for her to stand there and continue watching. She should’ve left a long time ago. But somehow, she knows your wife set her up to see this, and instead of running away in shame, Natasha is totally absorbed and her obsession with you only skyrockets.

The headboard creaks against the wall as your wife rides you, both of you moaning in unison. Natasha’s eyes are stuck on you, trying to memorize your body’s reactions and wondering if she’d ever be the cause of them one day. You tilt your head back into the pillows, your back arching off the mattress, your hands wrapped around your wife’s waist as you thrust up into her.

“I’m ready. I’m gonna cum,” you announce breathlessly.

Natasha hopes you’ll say those words to her one day. But she turns away as you finish, scolding herself for her unprofessional and frankly creepy behavior. She drops the folded clothes to the floor, knowing your wife will eventually find them and know of their origin. Maybe she’ll get fired for this; if anything, it’d be for the better. She doesn’t trust herself to be around you anymore–not that she’d ever be so bold as to make a move and disrespect your marriage, but she’d never be able to look at you the same way again.

She quickly pads down the stairs and leaves the house, the emptiness in her heart and core almost reaching a painful point.

***********************************************************************

You jerk your hips up a final time as you cum, dropping back onto the bed exhausted and spent.

“Hmm, that was fun,” your wife pants against your neck, and you wrap your arm around her tightly, pulling her closer to your body.

“We can shower together?” you suggest, digging your fingers teasingly into her naked hips.

“Sure. Give me a minute.” She lays her head on your chest.

Despite your differences, you were truly happy to have this woman by your side through it all. She had been your longest supporter and that had meant everything to you when no one else believed in you.

You kiss her forehead softly. “I love you, Wanda.”

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

AN: Actually screaming and crying. Nat please come save us 😭

To be continued?

@holiday-house-of-m I finally kept my promise to you after 84 years.

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader

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littlenazzz · 5 months ago

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“ closeted agere things! 🌸

* mostly targeting regressors who can’t regress freely for whatever reason <3

gear

- pacis can be hidden in stuffed animals! if you don’t feel like doing that you can use boxes for things like old phone boxes, old glasses cases, or anything that wouldn’t look suspicious or out of the ordinary!

- if you’re comfortable with wearing a mask and like using pacis, you can hide your paci behind a mask when you go out! You can even get a cute reusable mask to make you feel more small!

- instead of onesies, you could use some body suits! if it seems too suspicious to wear them alone, you could pair it with some shorts/sweats, no one can say a thing :) you can even find ones that are full body or have build in shorts!

- have a prepared response! try thinking of a well thought out excuse that can help you incase you get caught! try not to stress about it too much, though!

ordering

- ordering can be really difficult! trying to find a way to order gear when i was living with my parents was quite hard, and i couldnt find a lot of good advice on how to do it. the method that worked best for me was ordering it to a support friend or carer’s house!

- quite a lot of etsy agere-gear businesses have options for discreet shipping! the meaning for this can vary — whether they hide the gear in a small plushie or container or something, or they ship it and ensure that it reaches you and only you!

regressing

- this point is honestly harder to explain, especially because of how different every little can be from each other!

- if you regress to an older age, perhaps 7-10 or are a middle, then it can be easier for you to regress in public while causing minimal suspicion! (especially if you are high-functioning at those ages)

- involuntary regressors may find this a bit hard — i recommend trying a bunch of different exercises to get out of your headspace (only if you want to, or if you’re in a dangerous situation of course!) i have quite a few techniques that work for me; can make a post about that later!

little things that can make you feel smaller

- packing yourself a small snack when you go out! (eg. gogurts, small nut packets, chopped vegetables (or shaped veggies!), fruits, shape crackers, etc!)

- adult coloring books can be a bit hard to do when little for me, but some pages are pretty okay, especially when you’re trying to blend in :)

- having small plushie keychains!

- cute patterned socks! you can keep them hidden in long shoes, but if no one would question you, then you’re good!

- fidget toys

- using a water bottle with a straw!

that’s all for now! i just wanted to add, please please make sure you’re staying safe! i know gear can be tempting to buy, but if you’re in a situation where there’s no where to hide it and getting caught would compromise your safety, please keep that in mind! staying safe is way more important than anything else.

take care munchkins, buh bye! 🫧

#agere board #age regression #age dreaming #sfw age regression #age regressor #agere #sfw agere #sfw interaction only #sfw littlespace #agere blog

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zenlesszonezero · 16 days ago

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#Zenless Zone Zero #Miyabi #Harumasa #HoYoverse #zzzero #zenlesszonezero #Mobile Game #Anime Game #Gaming

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solxamber · 29 days ago

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haii can i req octotrio, malleus, and leona (all seperate!) with a reader like kokomi from genshin thats also a jellyfish? romantic or not it doesn’t matter to me ^_^ also feel free to add more characters the more the merrier :3

Leona, Octatrio, Malleus, Riddle, Vil, Rook, Rollo x Kokomi!Jellyfish!Reader

a/n; i felt pretty inspired so i added quite a few <3

Leona Kingscholar

Leona pretends he’s indifferent, but your serene and calculated demeanor throws him off.

The first time he sees your glowing form under the moonlight, he blinks twice, convinced he’s hallucinating. “Tch, what’s with the light show? Trying to blind me or something?” But secretly, he’s mesmerized.

Your habit of calmly handling disputes in the dorm (often between Ruggie and others) frustrates him. “You can’t just talk people into behaving,” he grumbles, only to watch you succeed every time.

Leona’s competitive side comes out when he learns about your strategic mind. Chess games with you become a weekly ritual, and losing to you annoys him more than he’ll admit.

Despite his gruffness, he’s deeply protective of you, especially when someone comments on your jellyfish-like features. “Say that again, and I’ll show you why you don’t mess with jellyfish.”

Sometimes, he watches you float gracefully in water, pretending he’s there for a nap. “Stop staring at me, Leona.” “Who’s staring? I’m just resting my eyes.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is immediately intrigued by your jellyfish traits and calm demeanor—after all, you’re a marine creature, and that’s his territory.

Your bioluminescence is something he secretly envies, though he’ll never admit it. “A marvelous ability,” he says while scribbling notes for future contracts.

Your strategic thinking makes you one of the few people who can keep up with him in negotiations. He offers you a job at the Lounge almost immediately, “to better utilize your talents.”

Whenever Floyd or Jade annoys him, Azul uses you as a buffer. “Perhaps you could… calm them down?” And, to his astonishment, it works. Even Floyd listens to you.

He’s absolutely fascinated by your glowing hair and jellyfish-like appendages. “Do they serve a specific function, or are they purely aesthetic?” he asks while trying not to sound overly eager.

Azul secretly finds your tranquil nature soothing. After a long day of scheming, he’ll seek your company under the guise of “strategic discussions,” but really, he just wants to hear your voice.

Jade Leech

Jade is utterly fascinated by you from the moment he meets you. Your resemblance to a jellyfish sparks his curiosity.

He constantly asks you questions about your biology, glowing abilities, and lifestyle. “Do you use your bioluminescence to lure prey, or is it purely decorative?”

Jade enjoys teasing you, especially when you’re peacefully floating in water. “You look so serene. It’s almost a shame to disturb you.” Then he splashes you.

He respects your calm and collected demeanor, but he’s determined to find out what flusters you. Watching your serene mask slip is his new favorite pastime.

If someone dares insult you, Jade’s smile grows even sharper. “I wouldn’t recommend making an enemy of a jellyfish, you know. They’re far more dangerous than they appear.”

He enjoys your company during his hikes, fascinated by how your glowing presence adds an ethereal beauty to the forest.

Floyd Leech

Floyd is absolutely obsessed with you. You’re a jellyfish, and jellyfish are cool—end of story.

He immediately nicknames you “Jelly,” much to your mild exasperation. “C’mon, Jelly! Let’s go do something fun!”

Floyd loves poking at your glowing features. “What happens if I touch this? Will it zap me?” (You have to swat his hand away repeatedly.)

Your calm nature intrigues him. “How do you stay so chill all the time? Don’t you ever wanna, like, flip out?” He sees it as a personal challenge to get you riled up.

He’s oddly protective of you. If anyone messes with you, Floyd’s mood sours instantly, and you have to calm him down before he does something drastic.

Floyd loves dragging you into the water to “swim like real jellyfish.” His playful nature contrasts hilariously with your serene floating.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus finds you absolutely enchanting. Your ethereal glow and calm presence remind him of a fairytale.

The first time he sees you glowing in the dark, he’s convinced you’re some sort of spirit. “Are you a creature of the night, summoned by the stars?” You laugh, which only confuses him more.

He adores your serene demeanor and often seeks your company when he’s feeling lonely. “You have a calming presence. It is… soothing.”

Your strategic mind impresses him. He occasionally consults you on matters of state, and your insight leaves him in awe.

Malleus is enchanted by your glowing features and bioluminescence. He often compares you to the stars and moon. “You shine as brightly as the night sky,” he says, his voice soft.

He’s protective of you, especially when others don’t understand your unique traits. “Anyone who dares mock your beauty will answer to me,” he declares, his aura dark and foreboding.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is equal parts fascinated and exasperated by your serene and dreamy nature.

He struggles to reconcile your gentle demeanor with the strict order he upholds. “You can’t just let them get away with breaking rules.” But you always seem to handle things so effortlessly, he can’t help but feel a little envious.

The first time he sees your bioluminescence, he’s stunned. “W-What are you glowing for? Is that some sort of trick?” He secretly thinks it’s mesmerizing.

Your calmness has a soothing effect on him during his temperamental moments. When you gently suggest he take a deep breath, he can’t find it in himself to argue.

Your strategic mind earns his respect, especially when you help him resolve dorm conflicts with minimal drama. He finds himself seeking your counsel more often than he’d like to admit.

He tries to deny how much your presence comforts him, but when you glow softly under the moonlight, he’s reminded of the beauty of following one’s heart.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil finds you utterly captivating, both for your glowing beauty and your ability to remain so composed under pressure.

He immediately notices your bioluminescence and praises it as “natural elegance.” He may even use it as inspiration for his next photoshoot.

Vil admires your calm demeanor but insists on refining your presentation. “Grace comes naturally to you, but you must carry it with intention.”

Your ability to remain poised even under stress makes him jealous sometimes. He spends hours perfecting himself while you seem effortlessly radiant.

The two of you often engage in long conversations about leadership and balance. He’s impressed by your thoughtful insight, though he won’t always admit it.

He pretends not to care when others praise your ethereal glow, but he can’t help but feel proud, especially when you stand by his side at events.

Rook Hunt

Rook is absolutely enchanted by your jellyfish-inspired traits and ethereal aura.

The first time he sees your bioluminescence, he dramatically declares, “Magnifique! You are a creature of the heavens, a glowing gem beneath the sea!”

Rook constantly watches you, fascinated by the way you move and speak. He calls it research, but it’s really just admiration.

Your calmness intrigues him. He frequently tests your patience with his flamboyant antics, but you never falter, much to his delight.

He adores how your strategic mind contrasts with your soft demeanor. “You are as cunning as you are serene, ma chérie méduse.”

Rook writes poems inspired by your bioluminescent glow, claiming that no words could ever truly capture your beauty.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo is conflicted about you. Your calm, composed nature intrigues him, but your glowing features remind him of magic—something he loathes.

The first time he sees you glowing, he’s visibly unsettled. “Is this some kind of magic trick? I don’t trust it.” Yet, he can’t look away.

Your tranquil demeanor softens his usual disdain. He begrudgingly admits that you’re… tolerable, though his fascination with you grows daily.

Rollo’s jealousy flares whenever others praise your ethereal beauty. “They’re only bewitched by appearances,” he mutters, trying to convince himself he’s not affected.

Your intelligence earns his respect, though he won’t openly say it. He finds himself relying on your calm judgment more than he’d like.

Despite his feelings about magic, he catches himself enjoying the way your glow lights up dark spaces. It’s almost… comforting.

Masterlist

944 notes · View notes

dollfaceksj · 1 year ago

Text

still don’t know my name | jjk (m) pt. 2

➥ banner by: @archivedkookie.

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ cybersex ⋆ enemies

➥ CATEGORY: mini three-shot

➥ WARNINGS: mentions of rough sex; slapping, spanking, hair pulling, gagging, name calling, humiliation, degradation, mean!jk, biker!jk😋, bratty!reader (like reallll bratty), nude exchanging, pornography, cybersex, reader is a bit dumb, actually very dumb, sexting, flirting, neighbor beef, tension, jk smokes, bit of angst (cus it wouldn’t be a fic of mine if it didn’t have angst ofc), mentions of raw sex (WRAP IT UP), minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 11.8k

a/n: whew. HI. can’t believe pt1 went off like that😭 thank u sm for enjoying this fic !

thanks to tumblr’s new 1k max blocks limit, i had to add the rest in a reblog. you’ll find a link to it at the bottom!

i call this a mini three-shot cause i just left out all the unimportant stuff. it just constantly skips to scenes where yn & jk bump into each other i really dgaf if it’s coincidental the entire time. i had and still have no intention of adding more lore than necessary😭 its just a pwp so i rlly dc abt the lack of story telling and whatnot i just wanted to get this horny idea out 🙄

make sure to check out eli’s version too! <3

enjoy 😘😘 — the next part (pt. 3) will be the final part!

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

#2 — “gameboy”

You still don’t know his name.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

And that is how you spend the rest of your weeks.

Flirting.

Sexting.

Sending pictures of your naked body to a random stranger on the internet.

A random stranger whose name you do not know.

A random stranger that doesn’t know your name, either.

A random stranger that you’re somehow slightly possessive over.

A random stranger that’s somehow slightly possessive over you.

Constantly posting subtweets about each other only further proves that. Indirectly wanting to tell other people to back off without actually doing so.

It’s crazy how you two clicked almost immediately. Maybe men aren’t a lost cause after all.

The subtweets consist of more pornographic content, provoking each other and wording your wishes of what you would like to do to one another on your timelines.

Like posting captions that say, ‘wish you were here’ alongside a video of a woman getting fucked into a worn-out mattress.

Or ‘this could be us’ and it’s a video of 2 people kissing like it’s their last day on earth.

But then at times, you both just chat like best friends. Talk about the movies you like. Or the anime he recommends. Or the music he likes to listen to. He gets oddly defensive about Justin Bieber.

Even though you’re both aware that you’re two strangers, you can’t help but feel like you two have known each other for longer than just a few weeks.

Like the time you found out you live in the same timezone. Live in the same state. Grew up watching the same things on TV. Have heard of each other’s high schools.

But any details have been kept private so far—for safety reasons, of course.

It’s not like you don’t trust him. It’s not that. It’s just weird sharing personal info with someone you don’t know personally.

But there’s been some talks about potentially meeting each other.

You wonder what he’s like in real life.

You bet he’s as charming as he is through text. Probably average looking but you don’t mind in the slightest. Pretty men only break hearts.

You still don’t know what he looks like and vice versa.

You still don’t know his name and vice versa.

Somehow you both wordlessly agreed on revealing your faces when you meet for the first time. The only physical details you’ve noticed are some of his tattoos that you can barely make out thanks to the poor quality of his pictures. His toned body. Veins. Sweatpants.

Most of his pictures are taken in the dark. Seems like he’s always just holed up at home and you deduce he might be a homebody or a gamer—something like that.

You usually can’t stand gamers (cue your annoying fucking neighbor) however, you can’t help but fantasize about sucking this random online stranger off while he’s gaming or have him bend you over his gaming setup. Let him fuck you from behind over his keyboard. Hips pounding into your asscheeks as his gaming chair squeaks.

The buzzing of your phone next to your hip snaps you out of your sinful trance.

[Twitter]

@archurback4me sent you a message!

Your heart always jolts like it’s been resuscitated every single time he sends you a message and that hasn’t changed in the past few weeks. There are simply no words to describe how it feels when your phone buzzes and it’s the person you’re thinking about.

You sit straight up on your couch, crossing your legs criss-cross applesauce as you giddily unlock your phone.

@archurback4me | 11:12AM

Goodmorning brat

How’d you sleep

Sleep. How’d you sleep.

Right, that’s what you’d forgotten!

You | 11:13AM

wait omg

now i remember

i dreamed about you omggg

well you were kinda faceless but in my dream i knew it was you

@archurback4me | 11:13AM

Did you?

What kind of dream

You | 11:13AM

honestly it started out weird as fuck lol

i wish i could tell you something sexy but it really isn’t

you were in my old high school trying to buy something from the vending machine and it wouldn’t work

so you ended up punching it and then i stopped you

and told you to hit me instead like some kind of pick me girl lmaoooooo

@archurback4me | 11:14AM

LMAOOOO

Bruhhh

That is so random

Hitting you is crazy

You | 11:14AM

i know

i mean

watching you be so aggressive was pretty hot tho

woke up w drenched panties

@archurback4me | 11:15AM

That so?

You got proof or are you just talking out of your ass?

You | 11:15AM

ur trying to see my pussy at 11am? really? you’re horny at this hour?

@archurback4me | 11:16AM

11AM or 11PM

Idgaf

Let me see that pretty pussy

How are you supposed to decline when he says it like that?

You want to do everything he asks. Anything. Want him to want you. Need him to want you.

You drag your sweats down your legs, tossing them off your bed with a quick kick. The tip of your finger slips under the elastic of your panties, peeling it off your pussy and sliding it to the side.

Arm stretched out, you reach for a low angle of your glistening pussy. There’s a teeny tiny bit of stubble coming through, not that either of you really care.

You snap a quick photo. Check it. Aren’t satisfied. Snap a few more until you’re okay with the row of pictures you can choose from.

You | 11:19AM

(You sent a photo.)

@archurback4me | 11:21AM

For fucks sake

That wet from imagining me shaking up a vending machine, are you?

Shit

Can’t stop staring

You | 11:21AM

well yes.

i mean honestly

i don’t fantasize about you hitting me or anything like that

but being slapped across the face by you kind of sounds... hot

@archurback4me | 11:23AM

I’ve seen you tweet about it before

And you’ve rted several videos like that

So trust me

I know you’re into that

You | 11:23AM

hmm

yeah

i think it’s hot

but not like.. the way you’d slap someone for making fun of your mom

just... a quick slap to make me look at you when i’m disobeying

@archurback4me | 11:23AM

Choking, spanking, slapping, hairpulling, spitting, gagging

You sure you can take all that?

You | 11:23AM

are you challenging me?

@archurback4me | 11:25AM

I know better than to challenge a brat over text

Just wanna make sure angel

You | 11:25AM

trust me i’ll be loud about it if i don’t like it

but only if you’re down with it

@archurback4me | 11:26AM

I am

Because your dirty mouth definitely deserves a few slaps whenever you start yapping like you do so well

You | 11:27AM

kiss my ass jay

you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid lmao

Oh, right. He’d told you to call him Jay about two weeks ago. You’ve been calling him that ever since.

@archurback4me | 11:30AM

Wish I could princess

Let me see that ass one more time

You | 11:30AM

🙄.

what do i get in return?

@archurback4me | 11:32AM

I’ll write your username on my pelvis and post a vid of me jacking off

Oh.

The thought of him, jacking off with your username written across his pelvis, free for everyone to see. The thought of claiming him. Having him all to yourself.

The tingle in your core is impossible to ignore. You want him.

You | 11:33AM

so all those ppl chatting you up in your dms know that you ultimately belong to me?

@archurback4me | 11:33AM

If that’d allow me to see your ass then 100%

You | 11:33AM

ur so thirsty

so many asses you can see online

why mine

@archurback4me | 11:34AM

Because yours is my favorite duh

You don’t have to of course

There’s a compromise, isn’t there?

His favorite?

Does he chat with other people as well? Do others send him pictures of their body too? Does he send them pictures too?

That alone brings a scowl to your face but you quickly realize that, yes, he can do what he wants.

You get up on your knees and stretch your arm out behind you. Phone upside down. Hit record. Spank your ass. Catch the watch it recoils on camera.

Repeat.

Make him never want anyone else again.

You | 11:35AM

🙄.

just shut up

(You sent a video.)

@archurback4me | 11:35AM

Holy shit I need you

I need you so bad

Ahhhh you’re driving me fucking crazy

You | 11:36AM

you could have me

@archurback4me | 11:36AM

I’m so serious I’ll come one of these weeks and I’m not even joking

You | 11:36AM

i wish you would

@archurback4me | 11:38AM

I will

Give me a date I’ll write it down

You | 11:38AM

you’re coming to stay for a few days, right?

i have plenty of room in my bed for you

@archurback4me | 11:39AM

Hmm

Was hoping you’d say that

One night with you would never be enough for me

You | 11:40AM

hehe

exactly 3 weeks from now

the entire week

what do you say?

@archurback4me | 11:42AM

Never noted something faster

I have a dog though

So I was thinking it’d be easier for you to come to me

You | 11:43AM

i don’t mind you bringing your dog

luv dogs

but don’t think i forgot about what i was gonna get in return for sending you my ass

@archurback4me | 11:44AM

Jeez

He doesn’t reply for quite some time. The typing bubble doesn’t pop up either.

But after several minutes a new tweet pops up on your feed.

He didn’t caption it. Just a video that starts with his abs. You watch as his fingers trail down his stomach and tug his underwear down, revealing his squiggly inked skin.

And there it is, ‘@bratgaIore’ written across his pelvis in black marker.

He spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around his shaft, stroking his rock hard dick at a perfect pace. The sound has been turned off and you really wish it wasn’t but then again, you don’t want anyone else hearing him.

Want him sounding pretty for you. Just for you.

You’ve clearly been staring at the video for too long because you get a new message.

@archurback4me | 11:54AM

Happy?

You | 11:56AM

holy shit

you actually did it

@archurback4me | 11:57AM

Of course I did

I don’t play when it comes to that ass of yours

You | 11:58AM

now im rlly horny

@archurback4me | 11:58AM

Aren’t you always

You | 11:58AM

thanks to you

i hate you

@archurback4me | 11:59AM

That’s fine

The feeling’s mutual anyway

Gonna enjoy the way you fall apart under me when I fuck you

Fuck you until you’re stupid

You | 12:03PM

a dream come true

guess what

@archurback4me | 12:04PM

Hm?

You | 12:06PM

(You sent a photo.)

The photo is a picture of your soaking wet pussy with his username written on your pelvis in black marker, too.

@archurback4me | 12:08PM

What the fuck

You’re trying to fucking kill me angel

I need to insert my tongue immediately

You | 12:09PM

here come the harvard graduates

insert is crazy

@archurback4me | 12:10PM

You drive me crazy

Pussy got me acting all formal and shit LMAOO

Got me wanting to wear a bib and say Itadakimasu😋 when I dive in

Fuck

Want you on my face so fucking bad

Spank you while you ride my face

Don’t think I’ve ever seen something so pretty

Think my mind will change when I see your face though

You | 12:11PM

LMAOOOO not itadakimasu😭😭😭

hmm

you like it?

@archurback4me | 12:12PM

Are you insane

I keep going back to it

You should write my username when we meet so I can see it when I take your clothes off

Know that your pussy belongs to me

You | 12:12PM

if you do it too

@archurback4me | 12:13PM

Deal

You | 12:13PM

hehe

😋.

btw

@archurback4me | 12:14PM

Hm?

You | 12:14PM

are you clean

@archurback4me | 12:15PM

What?

You | 12:16PM

are you clean

for raw sex

@archurback4me | 12:16PM

Yeah I am

I’ll send you my results when I’m home

You | 12:16PM

you don’t have to do that i believe you

i’m clean too

where are you rn?

@archurback4me | 12:16PM

Just left to meet a friend

You | 12:17PM

you’re not texting and driving right

@archurback4me | 12:18PM

Of course not, babe.

How am I supposed to meet my dumb girl when I’m dead?

I’m going by foot

Babe.

My dumb girl.

This is dangerous territory.

You | 12:19PM

just like how i want to be the death of you as i tease you while ur in public

@archurback4me | 12:19PM

Don’t

I’m warning you

I don’t wanna meet my friends with a raging boner

I just got rid of one

You | 12:20PM

ur so easy lol

@archurback4me | 12:22PM

Just you wait you little brat

Gonna leave you so fucking sore when I’m done with you

No breaks

Fuck you the whole week long

You | 12:23PM

hmm

gonna fuck me like you hate me?

@archurback4me | 12:24PM

I do hate you

A lot

Dumb girl

Don’t think that’s gonna change when I see you in real life

Might get even more pissed off when I see your bratty mug actually

I just know your face is so fucking bratty

You | 12:25PM

you’d be obsessed with me

i’m really pretty

@archurback4me | 12:26PM

Lmao yeah I probably will be

I’m sure you are

Gonna defile your pretty face when I cum all over it you stupid brat

But my friend’s here

I’ll ttyl princess

You | 12:27PM

can’t wait

bye daddy

@archurback4me | 12:27PM

Hell nahhhhh

Don’t call me that

You | 12:30PM

ok then bye mr. fuck-you-everyday-of-the-week

@archurback4me | 12:30PM

And will

Night after night

You | 12:30PM

go already

byeeeee

@archurback4me | 12:32PM

Bye princess

You go about your day like you usually would and later that night, he ends up sending you his results anyway. You were already asleep by then, though.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Want to keep reading? The full chapter is out on my Wattpad.

Click here to keep reading.

a/n: thanks to tumblr’s new max 1k blocks limit, i’ll have to figure out how i’m gonna post the full thing on here. (probably tomorrow or friday) either by combining paragraphs or add the continuation in a reblog or something. but its out on wattpad so i hope you’ll forgive me !!

thanks for reading <33

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Here’s the link to continuation (in a reblog).

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

@mygdday @coletaehyung @btspurplesky @kaitieskidmore97 @marvelbun @nini_07777 @8514238 @llallaaa @s3l3n0phil3 @agrika @ahgasegotarmy116 @canyon-lwt @boyfriendtaekook @s4yok0 @mochminnie @chimmisbae @muah-minhoe-8 @bloopkook @whoa-jo @dreami-yoonkookie @earth2fae @kissyfacekoo @keroppitae @junecat18 @hollowtree11 @jksusawife @synnfulqt @pamzn @jknoah @jjk-jeongirl @busanstarkoo @busanboykoo @codeinebelle @taegicity @bettybloop @kookssecret @MMFranklin @vickyyy97 @suciedad-divina @jkslipppiercing @heyyolly04 @partyparty-yah @kooact @osakis-gf @luna-astro-star @plushjeno @jjk1iscoming @Heyrobitches @sunnysorasworld @raineo @jjanjankook @etaerealboyv @somehowukook @larryrulesthisfuckingworld @rrrapmonste-rr @denisaandreea20 @httpjeonlicious @jjeonjennie @dellalyra @optimisticmoongalaxy @ishizhans

3K notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 2 months ago

Text

Screening: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978).

Pairing: Yandere!Carlisle Cullen x Reader (Twilight).

Word Count: 2.1k.

TW: Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Medical Malpractice, Blood, Controlling Behavior, Deliberate Social Isolation, Misuse of Prescription Drugs, and Generalized Twilight. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

It might’ve just been the isolation getting to you, but you were starting to think that your doctor wasn’t completely human.

Not that you’d ever say so out loud. At best, it was awful thing to think about a man who’d only ever been kind to you and, at worst, it proved yet another symptom to your ever-developing, ever-worsening illness had cropped up and would need further treatment to correct. You knew better than to say things that would make you seem more sick than you already were, but it was hard to stop yourself from lingering on the idea – especially considering you only had books, sleep, and his company to pass the endless time. Admittedly, it’d been a while since you’d seen another person, but you could’ve sworn he was paler than he should’ve been, to the point of bloodlessness. He never ate or drank around you, but sometimes when he spoke, the light would catch on his teeth in a way that made them look too sharp, too prominent. You might’ve been dreaming, but once, after you took your medicine but just before you fell asleep, you swore you saw him taking the cap off of the blood sample he’d taken a few minutes prior, like he planned to do something aside from—

You heard a door open and instantly, your paranoia was dismissed in favor of more interesting stimuli. In this case, that came in the form of your doctor, Carlisle Cullen, stepping into your bedroom, an inhumanly perfect smile already painted across his inhumanly perfect lips.

…maybe you should tell somebody about your little conspiracy. If only to be absolutely sure that you were really losing your mind.

“Good morning,” he said, and it occurred to you that you hadn’t thought to check the time, yet. Your life existed in three states: alone, asleep, and with Carlisle. Only that last one really mattered – the other two could easily be lumped into the same category helpfully labeled ‘waiting for Carlisle’s next visit’. “Have you been keeping yourself busy?”

“I’ve only been awake for a couple hours,” you explained, shrugging as he took his usual seat in the chair left next to your bed. He was always polite enough to ask about the boring details of your day, and you were always embarrassed enough to skirt around just how little you had the energy for. Most of the time, it was all you could do to pull yourself out of bed and yourself to eat before retreating back into your little safe haven. On a good day, you’d be able to go for a walk, maybe respond to a few of the calls you were constantly missing, but most days weren’t very good. “Reading, mostly. Thanks again for the recommendation.”

The book he’d lent you – a dry historical drama with characters as bland as water and a plot as boring as sin – sat open on your lap, but you’d only gotten through half a chapter before giving up. It was hard to believe Carlisle was only a few years older than you, sometimes. You couldn’t imagine how someone who seemed so young could have such awful taste.

Still, he looked pleased, his pleasantly aloof expression taking on a defined note of satisfaction. “It’s important to keep your mind occupied while your body’s recovering. You wouldn’t want to waste all of my hard work by letting yourself die of boredom, now, would you?”

“No, doctor.” It was stupid to try, but he’d set himself up for it. You couldn’t seem to stop yourself, your heart beating just a little faster as you grasped blindly for the impossible. “You know, there’s this friend of mine who keeps asking when she’ll be able to visit, and I thought it might help pass the time if—”

“You’ll have to find a way to let her down.” Carlisle’s voice was smooth, calm. You did your best not to sulk, but still, he let out a labored sigh, only a touch too professional to roll his eyes. “It’s for the best. It’s good that you stay active, but you know what’ll happen if you overexert yourself, don’t you?”

Vaguely. It was hard to remember the details of your condition, and you weren’t in the mood for another lecture. “I do, doctor.”

“And you’re going to behave your check-up, aren’t you?”

“I am, doctor.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite patient.” Your compliance was rewarded with a beaming smile, an appeased nod as he pulled his old-fashioned leather doctor’s bag into his lap. “We better make good on that promise before you change your mind, then.”

You didn’t protest. Honestly, you didn’t say much of anything. You never talked during your exam, preferring to let Carlisle go through the necessary motions with as little interference as possible. Instead, he filled the silence with mindless chatter about his children and how they were doing at the local public school, the hospital’s ongoings since you were unofficially discharged, and your favorite – Forks’ particularly colorful smalltown gossip, from the sheriff’s wayward daughter moving back into town to the spike in bear sightings on the local hiking paths. “It’ll be a busy week,” he mentioned, as he finished taking your blood pressure. “You might have some unexpected company, after all.”

At that, you perked up. You met nearly all of Carlisle’s assistants (medical students, you guessed, judging by their ages) by now, and even if you didn’t care for all of them, it was still nice to see someone other than him. Your least favorites were the dark haired twins – the wiry boy who always seemed to be biting back a smirk and the pixie-like girl who always acted like she knew something you didn’t – and you were particularly fond of the blonde girl… Rosemary, or maybe Rosaline. She was nice, compassionate, kind enough to keep you company even when Carlisle wasn’t in the room. More importantly, she brought interesting books – romance and horror, novels like Dracula and Carmilla and Interview with a Vampire, always handing over with a sweet smile and a hushed reminder not to let Carlisle know she was breaking his rules. Looking back on it, you probably shouldn’t have accepted anything she tried to give you. You would’ve hated for her to get in trouble just because she was trying to be nice.

Rather than voicing your overwhelming bias, you watched intently as he slipped the loose cuff off of your arm, tucking it back into his bag and removing something else, something long and silver and sharp. Immediately, your gaze shot back to your lap, your throat going dry in an instant. The next time you managed to spit something out, it was nearly too quiet to be audible. “…is there any chance we could, uh, I don’t know,” You paused, shrunk into yourself. “…skip the phlebotomy, this time?”

Carlisle’s answer was as swift as it was ruthless. An airy laugh, a jagged twist to this smile as he took up the needle properly and turned it over in his hand, looking for defects. It was already attached the glass syringe and, even worse, an empty vial; just a touch bigger than you remembered it being, the day before. “And take that kind of risk? How little do you think of me, (Y/n)?”

“It’s not you, it’s just—I already feel a little faint, and you take one every day, and—” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply. “I just don’t know if it’s really necessary. Considering how careful you are and everything.”

“You’re right, I am careful. Which is exactly why I have to do this each and every time I come to see you.” He sighed, shook his head – suddenly more of a patronizing, paternal figure than any kind of medical professional, let alone peer. “You understand, don’t you? Without regular testing, your condition may worsen, and if you get any sicker than you are now…” You stiffened as he trailed off, bracing yourself. You knew what came next, what always came next.

“You’ll have to go back to the hospital, angel.”

It was strange, how a voice as smooth and as beautiful as his could be so difficult to listen to.

You didn’t like Carlisle. You hated his condescending smile, his repetitive rambling, his terrible taste in books and his creepy little students. You hated how little he let you do, how he talked about your illness – always skirting around the details, never giving you enough information to know whether you were on the verge of dying or a few days away from making a full recovery. No, when you were honest with yourself, you didn’t like him. Hated him, even.

But you couldn’t go back to the hospital, with its blank white walls and sobbing patients and strange, mind-altering drugs that put your sleep and made you feel like someone was biting into your throat. It’d been a miracle when Carlisle first told you about his domestic services, when he offered to have you discharged in exchange for only the promise that you wouldn’t seek care that didn’t come from him. Arrangements were made, your rent and bills taken over by some nameless, faceless local charity, and for the first time in months, you got to go home. You could live with Carlisle and his once weekly, now daily check-ups. You could live with the fact that you didn’t remember the last time you’d gotten to make a decision for yourself.

And, if you had to, you could live with paying for your freedom in blood, too. As long as it meant you didn’t have to go back to that terrible place.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, but you didn’t resist as he sighed and ran a sterilizing pad over your forearm, the antibiotic strong enough to burn. You clenched your eyes shut, but that did nothing to block out the feeling of a thin elastic band being wrapped around the crook of your elbow, of his needle pushing through your skin and burrowing into the vein underneath it. There was a second of pressure, of knotted soreness, and then, the syringe was gone and you were left feeling just a little colder, just a little more empty than you had before.

Even after opening your eyes, you kept them trained on your lap. You easily could’ve spent the rest of his visit in silence, but metal clinked against glass as he rushed to cap his vial and suddenly, you needed to hear the sound of your own voice. “I think I might be getting paranoid,” you managed, with a breath of a laugh. “For a few minutes this morning, I was able to convince myself that you were… I don’t know, an alien studying humanity, or something.”

“If I was, I’m sure that I would still pick you as the best possible specimen for my examination.” It was hollow comfort, but you smiled anyway, nodding along. Your medication came next, in the form of a small, chalky white pill that you still struggled to swallow under Carlisle’s vigilant gaze. You managed to choke it down, though, and as always, the effects were instant; a sudden clearness, blankness, followed shortly by an exhaustion so thick and so heavy, you couldn’t remember what it’d ever felt like not to be tired. You tried to hold yourself up, but faltered – buckling under your own weight. Carlisle chuckled as he caught you, helping you lay down with a soft squeeze to your shoulder, a feather-light kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep, angel. It’s good for you.” And then, his grin still pressing into your scalp. “And try not to dream about vampires, this time.”

So he did know about Rosalie’s books. Pouting, you shrunk into yourself, letting him drag the comforter over your abruptly immobile body as your eyes eased shut, as he pulled away – a vial of your blood still warm in his hand. It would’ve been impossible to stop yourself from falling asleep, but you managed to stave off unconscious long enough to watch him remove the vial’s carefully applied seal, to unscrew the air-tight cap with the kind of tenderness you’d only seen him use while taking your temperature or petting his fingers through your hair after he thought you were already too far gone to remember. He did a lot of things when he thought you weren’t looking, didn’t he? You’d never really noticed that, before.

Through your eyelashes, you watched him bring the vial to his lips before everything went dark.

#yandere #yandere x readery #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere twilight #twlight #twlight x reader #yandere carlisle cullen #carlisle x reader #they can't stop me from sexualizing that old man #no matter how mormon coded he might be

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bellaveux · 3 months ago

Note

Hello! I really loved your medic!Reader x Natasha writing! May I request some angst/comfort involving that trope where instead of Natasha usually getting injured/bruised, it’s reader? Love your writings! ❤️

easier said than done | n. romanoff

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: she didn’t want you on this mission—her only thought was keeping you safe. but despite her efforts, even she couldn’t protect you from getting hurt.

content warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, medic!reader, protective!natasha, injured!reader, injuries, blood (idk what else i’m missing tbh)

word count: 7.4k

Natasha sat at her desk, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of a dossier Fury had handed her earlier that day. The mission briefing was all there in black and white—an overseas operation, something high-stakes and unpredictable. Fury had been clear about the potential dangers, but he had also given her an option: take one other agent, someone to fill in for the things Natasha didn’t specialize in… someone to feed her information in her ear, while also being there for support of any kind. A medic or a recon specialist, someone who could handle the things that might slip through the cracks.

She’d nodded at the time, but in her mind, she already knew she preferred to work alone.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t rely on others, but this mission was dangerous, even for someone with her experience. Too many variables, too much at stake. The idea of taking someone else into that kind of danger made her skin crawl. She’d seen too many good people go down because of decisions like that.

When you walked into the living room, stretching from your long day, your eyes immediately landed on the file in her hands. You didn’t ask, but the curiosity was there, written in the way you tilted your head, waiting for Natasha to explain.

She glanced up, her expression softening when she saw you, “Fury’s given me a new assignment. Overseas.”

You stepped closer, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorframe, “Sounds serious.”

“It is,” Natasha admitted, her voice low. “He recommended I take someone with me.”

You straightened at that, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, “Oh yeah? Who’d he have in mind?”

“Recon specialist, maybe a medic,” Natasha said, almost offhandedly, her eyes flickering back to the folder in her hands. “Someone who can handle the things from afar. Support. Backup.”

You could feel the tension in her voice, the way her shoulders were stiff even as she tried to keep things casual. And before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“I’ll go.”

Natasha’s head shot up immediately, her green eyes locking with yours, a flicker of surprise crossing her features, “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” You pushed off the wall and took a few steps closer, your voice steady. “You said you need someone with a different skill set. I’m a medic, Nat. I can help.”

Natasha’s expression hardened, her jaw clenching slightly. “I don’t need your help with this.”

“That’s not what Fury thinks,” you said, your tone light, but the determination was unmistakable. “He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t think you’d need backup.”

Natasha shook her head, standing up and tossing the file onto the desk with a sigh, “It’s too dangerous. You’re not coming.”

You could see the conflict in her eyes, the way she tried to keep her voice firm, but there was something deeper there—something protective, maybe even fearful. It wasn’t often that she let herself care about someone this deeply, but you’d been around long enough to know when she was trying to push you away to keep you safe.

“Natasha,” you said, your voice softening as you moved closer, closing the distance between you. “I’ve been through dangerous before. I know how to handle myself.”

“This is different,” she snapped, her frustration spilling over as she turned to face you fully. “I’m not putting you in that kind of danger.”

“I’m already in danger every day,” you reminded her gently. “This is my job too.”

Natasha’s eyes flashed with something raw and vulnerable for just a moment before she blinked it away. “You’re not going, and that’s final.”

She turned away from you, her fingers running through her hair, trying to shake off the image of you in harm’s way. The thought of you getting hurt—of losing you because she let you come on this mission—it was unbearable.

For a long moment, the room was quiet, the tension hanging thick in the air. You stood there, watching her, feeling the weight of her refusal. But you weren’t about to let it go.

“I want to go,” you said again, your voice firmer this time. “Not because I think you need me, but because I don’t want you to do this alone. And I know how stubborn you are about working alone.”

Natasha sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she leaned against the desk. She was silent for a moment, her eyes avoiding yours. Finally, she looked up, her expression softening, but her resolve still unshaken.

“I can’t,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t let you come with me.”

You could feel the frustration bubbling up inside you, but you knew where it was coming from. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust you. She just cared too much. You hated that she was pushing you away to protect you, but you also understood it.

It was only a couple nights later, a few days before Natasha leaves for the mission. She still hasn’t found anyone to bring yet, even though you’ve been insisting from time to time.

And you told yourself you wouldn’t do it.

The moment Natasha left the apartment today, her quiet warning still fresh in your mind, you promised you’d leave the files alone. But as soon as the door clicked shut behind her, the silence that followed only seemed to amplify the curiosity burning inside you. The mission folder sat on the desk like a weight, drawing your eyes back to it over and over. Natasha had left it out, maybe even on purpose, part of you thought. Surely she knew you couldn’t resist. You tried to ignore it, busying yourself with the mundane—cleaning up the kitchen, scrolling through your phone—but each time you passed by that desk, it was like the file was calling your name, daring you to take a look.

After what felt like hours but was only minutes, you finally gave in, your resolve crumbling as you stepped closer. Your fingers hesitated at the corner of the folder, heart pounding with the knowledge that this was something Natasha wouldn’t want you to see. But the temptation was too strong. You opened the file slowly, the pages revealing details you weren’t supposed to know—dangerous places, unfamiliar faces, and risks that Natasha had shielded you from. Yet the more you read, the more it felt like you needed to.

It was late, the dim light from the desk lamp casting a soft glow over the apartment as you sat there, quietly flipping through the pages of the mission file. You weren’t snooping, not really—you’d seen enough missions come and go that this one didn’t feel all that different. But as you read through the details, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you could help, even if Natasha couldn’t see it yet.

The front door creaked open, and you heard her footsteps before you saw her—Natasha moving with that quiet, graceful presence she always had. You didn’t look up right away, not until she walked over, her boots light on the hardwood floor, stopping just behind you.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, and a moment later, her hand reached out, gently closing the file in front of you.

“You really shouldn’t be reading that,” Natasha murmured, her voice laced with both affection and exasperation.

You glanced up, meeting her eyes, unfazed by the gentle reprimand, “I know, but… I can do it, Natasha.”

She shook her head slightly, her eyes softening, but you could still see the resistance there. She hadn’t budged on her decision from the last time you asked.

“I don’t want you anywhere near this one,” she said quietly, pulling the file closer to herself as if to protect you from the mere sight of it. “It’s too dangerous.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions rising in your chest, “It’s nothing I haven’t done before, Nat. I’ve handled things like this.”

Her lips pressed together, and she moved to sit beside you on the couch, the file now forgotten. You turned to face her, determination shining in your eyes.

“I’m not asking to be on the ground,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “I’ll be your mission control. You won’t even have to worry about me being anywhere near the danger. I’ll keep an eye on you from afar, talk to you through the earpiece—just like you’ve done a million times with other agents. I can do that for you. And in case you get hurt, I’ll be there to fix you up. I’m was a field medic, Nat, I’m not new to this.”

Natasha looked at you, her gaze intense as she processed your words. You could see the hesitation in her eyes, the way she wanted to say no again but couldn’t bring herself to dismiss you entirely. There was a weight in the air, the acknowledgment that you knew what you were doing, that you could handle this. But for Natasha, it was never about doubting your capabilities—it was about her unwillingness to risk losing you.

Her hand found yours, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I don’t want you in this mess,” she whispered, her voice low. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t get hurt,” you said, squeezing her hand gently. “I’ll be in the safest place possible. You won’t even see me.”

Natasha let out a long, tired breath, her eyes searching yours, torn between her instinct to protect you and the knowledge that you were just as stubborn as she was. You could see it in her face, the way her shoulders slumped slightly, how much she hated the thought of dragging you into something that could go so wrong. But you could also see her trust in you—the faith she had that you could do this, that you were strong enough.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she nodded, just slightly. “Okay,” she murmured. “But you stay back. And you listen to everything I say, no arguments.”

You smiled softly, relief washing over you as you nodded in agreement, “Deal.”

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, her fingers still intertwined with yours, “I mean it. No heroics.”

“No heroics,” you echoed, leaning into her touch.

Natasha knew, without a shadow of doubt, that you were more than qualified for the job. You were smart—one of the sharpest minds she had ever encountered when it came to recon, able to analyze a situation and strategize with precision that even impressed top agents. And when it came to field medicine, you were nothing short of remarkable. She’d seen you in action, watched the way your hands worked with a steady calm under pressure, saving lives in the most chaotic of circumstances. You weren’t just capable—you were essential.

But even with all that knowledge, Natasha couldn’t shake the gnawing fear that gripped her whenever she thought about you in the field. It was irrational, she knew, to let her mind wander to worst-case scenarios. But the idea of you getting hurt—of you lying on the ground, injured, or worse—tore through her like nothing else could. She had seen too many good people taken out by the dangers she faced every day, and the thought of you being one of them made her chest tighten painfully. Natasha could handle her own pain, her own injuries, but the idea of you being in harm’s way, of her losing you to the unpredictability of a mission, was something she could barely stomach.

She thought about how she’d be relentless in making sure you were nowhere near the line of fire when the mission starts. She’d double-check everything—triple-check, even. Your position would be far from the danger zones. She’d make certain that your vantage point would offer a clear view of the mission, but also a clear escape. She knew the layouts, knew the tactics, and she’d make sure there was no chance you’d be in the crosshairs.

She could handle the risks that came with her line of work, but when it came to you, she couldn’t take any chances.

There’d be times she’d want to look back, to hear your voice in her earpiece just to know you were still safe, still there, far away from the chaos. The mission might require her focus, but nothing could pull her attention more than the thought of your safety, knowing she would do anything—absolutely anything—to protect you.

The mission had been going as smoothly as it started—almost too smoothly.

Natasha really double-checked everything. Every point of entry, every route in and out, every possible variable that could go wrong. She had gone over it again and again in her mind, ensuring that you were far enough away, safely tucked in the quinjet, monitoring everything from your secure position. You had been perfect, calm and focused as you talked in her ear, feeding her intel and updates, watching the scene unfold from the distant safety of the control panels. She had felt reassured hearing your steady voice, knowing you were safe.

But then, something shifted. It was subtle at first, a disturbance she hadn’t noticed right away. Until she heard your voice, clipped with tension in her ear. “Nat… something’s wrong.”

Natasha froze, her heart skipping a beat. She immediately checked her surroundings, her hand instinctively tightening around her weapon as she scanned the perimeter.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice tight, trying to stay calm, but she could hear the urgency in her own tone.

There was static for a second, and then your voice again, strained. “I think… I think there’s movement here. I don’t know how—”

Her blood ran cold. Someone had slipped past. Despite all her precautions, someone had found you.

Natasha’s heart nearly stopped at the sound of your voice cutting out. Panic clawed at her chest as she frantically shoved the data she’d been extracting into her pocket. Without wasting a second, she took off in a dead sprint, her breath coming hard and fast as she darted through the corridors. Her mind was overflowing, thoughts racing at an uncontrollable speed. All her meticulous planning, her assurances to herself that you’d be safe—none of it mattered now.

The only thing that mattered was getting to you.

She could still hear faint shuffling in her earpiece, the sound of you moving, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t close enough, and it wasn’t fast enough. Her gut twisted, every second feeling like a lifetime as she pushed herself harder, faster. Her boots hit the ground in a steady, desperate rhythm, but all she could focus on was the silence that followed. Suddenly, the shuffling stopped. Everything went quiet.

Too quiet.

Her heart pounded louder, panic rising to her throat, threatening to choke her. She felt the dread crawling up her spine as she ran faster than she thought possible. The quinjet was just ahead. She had to get to you—had to make sure you were okay.

Because she couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

Natasha reached the quinjet only just a minute later, her muscles burning from the sprint, but she barely noticed the pain. One guard stood just outside the entrance, his stance stiff as he surveyed the area. She huffed, and without wasting a second, she grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the side of the jet, knocking him out cold. His body hit the ground with a dull thud, and she barely spared him a glance, her focus entirely on you.

The door to the jet creaked open, and Natasha entered, her senses on high alert. The air was thick, and every step felt heavy as she cautiously made her way through the dim space. Her heart hammered in her chest, her grip tight around her gun. There were two guards already down on the floor, their bodies lifeless. Her instincts kicked in—something had gone wrong, but you’d clearly fought back. Her eyes scanned the interior, her breath catching in her throat. Where were you? She couldn’t shake the feeling of dread settling deep in her stomach, her gaze darting from shadow to shadow, searching, praying to find you.

“Y/N?” she called out, her voice low but urgent, her pulse a wild drumbeat in her ears. No response. She swallowed hard, her body tense as she moved further into the quinjet.

Then, in the far corner, she saw you—crumpled on the floor, unmoving and her world stopped.

Natasha rushed over, dropping to her knees beside you, hands shaking as they hovered over your body. Bruises lined your skin, and a cut on your temple trickled with blood. She cursed under her breath, her mind reeling. She gently lifted your head, cradling you in her arms, her fingers brushing your cheek.

“Hey, I’m here… I’m here.”But her voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

Your vision was hazy, the world coming back into focus in slow, fractured pieces. The first thing you saw was Natasha, her face hovering above yours, panic and relief etched into her face. Her demeanor cracked, and you could see the raw emotion she was holding back. Everything around you felt heavier than it should, the throbbing ache in your body making it hard to move, let alone breathe properly. Despite it all, you found yourself offering her a faint smile, though it hurt to even do that.

“You… should see the other guy,” you mumbled, your voice barely more than a whisper, but still carrying that familiar spark of humor.

Natasha’s reaction was immediate—her breath hitched, and her expression tightened, the tiniest hint of a smile flickering on her lips, though it didn’t last long. She let out a slow, controlled exhale as if grounding herself, before reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. Her touch was gentle, but there was a kind of desperation in the way her fingers lingered against your skin, as if she needed the reassurance that you were still there, still breathing.

“Shut up,” she muttered, her voice low and trembling, though she tried to hide it. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Her eyes told the rest of the story—wide, frightened, filled with emotions you rarely saw on her face. She was always the composed one, the one who could handle anything. But seeing you like this, bruised and bloodied on the floor, had torn through that facade. Even in your hazy state, you could see how much it pained her.

You tried to reach for her hand, but your muscles protested, and the exhaustion weighed you down. The smile you gave her wasn’t much, but it was all you had, an attempt to reassure her even when your body was screaming. You didn’t need to say it, though—she could read you like a book. Her hand stayed on your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your skin, and you could feel the way her tension eased, just a little, as she realized you were still here, still with her.

Natasha hooked her arms under yours, her movements careful but swift as she pulled you to your feet. You gritted your teeth, biting back the groan that wanted to escape as your muscles screamed in protest. Even though the pain clouded your mind, you couldn’t help but notice how gentle she was being—her touch sure, but far softer than it ever was in the field. She practically carried you over to the nearest seat, easing you down with a tenderness that didn’t quite match the sharp intensity still flickering in her eyes.

“I’ll be back,” she murmured, her voice low, calming. She took a moment to make sure you were comfortable before stepping away.

The sound of the bodies being dragged echoed faintly through the jet, but you could barely register it, your eyes growing heavier by the second. Through the haze of exhaustion, you heard the door open, then close with a sharp hiss as Natasha disposed of the enemies who had nearly cost you everything. The quiet hum of the jet followed, and the subtle shift of it lifting into the air was oddly soothing. When she returned, she already had the autopilot engaged, her every move precise and calculated, even in her rush.

But she was barely focused on the instrument panel when she heard it—a soft whisper, fragile as glass, cutting through the hum of the engines. “Natasha?”

Her heart skipped, and without a moment’s hesitation, she turned, making her way back to you quickly. You were trying to hold yourself together, but she could see the strain in your eyes. Your face was pale, and the resolve that usually radiated from you seemed to flicker like a candle about to go out.

“What is it, detka?” Natasha asked, kneeling beside you, her tone urgent but laced with a tenderness that broke through the tension.

You hesitated, biting your lip as you summoned the courage to reveal what you had hidden beneath your shirt. Slowly, you moved your arm from your abdomen, exposing the wound—a seemingly deep, angry cut that glistened with fresh blood, the fabric of your suit stained around it. The sight sent a cold wave of dread crashing over Natasha, and she cursed under her breath.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she demanded, her voice sharp, but it was laced frustration. “You should have told me!”

You offered a small, calm smile, even as your breath hitched slightly from the pain. “I didn’t want to worry you. I thought I could handle it. It’s not… it’s not deep.”

Your words were steady, yet Natasha could hear the tremor that betrayed your nerves, the way your eyes betrayed the battle you were fighting within.

But the adrenaline was fading, and she could see the weariness creeping in. Natasha instinctively leaned closer, her hand moving to assess the wound more closely. “You’ve got to tell me everything, alright? How bad is it?”

You nodded slowly, wincing a little as she touched around the edges of the wound. “It hurts, but I’ll be fine once we get home. Just… promise me you won’t freak out.”

“Too late for that, I think,” she replied, her voice strained. “You’re the one who’s supposed to take care of me, not the other way around.”

Natasha shook her head as she looked down at your wound. All she wanted was to keep you safe, and now, as she looked at you, vulnerability reflected back in your gaze, she was reminded of just how fragile life could be.

She moved silently, her frustration simmering beneath the surface as she carefully guided you toward the stretcher bed in the back of the quinjet. She didn’t say a word, but you could see it—the tense set of her shoulders, the firm grip of her hands as they steadied you, the subtle clench of her jaw as she helped you lie down. It wasn’t anger directed at you, it never could be; it was the helplessness that gnawed at her, the fact that she couldn’t prevent this. She’d done everything to keep you safe, double-checking every detail of the mission, ensuring you were far from the fray, yet somehow danger had still reached you. Her eyes flicked briefly to the blood-stained makeshift bandage on your abdomen. She exhaled quietly through her nose, pushing down the frustration, the fear that lingered just beneath it, and focused on making sure you were comfortable, making sure you were okay.

You needed to assess the damage. With a grimace, you shifted your position, which sent a jolt of pain coursing through you, but you forced yourself to look down at the wound. The fabric of your shirt was torn, and you could see the ugly gash seeping blood, crimson staining your skin.

“It hurts,” you admitted, your brow furrowing as you took stock of what you could see. “But it’s not as bad as it looks. I don’t think it hit anything vital.” You swallowed hard, fighting the dizziness creeping in.

Natasha looked over you, watching as you pressed on it to keep the pressure. “Are you sure?” she asked, her tone laced with concern, her green eyes darkening as they studied your face for any sign of distress.

“Yeah,” you continued, the rush of your training and instincts taking over. You looked into her eyes, your voice steady despite the pain radiating through you, “There’s a lot of blood, but I can handle it. Just get me the first aid kit from the storage compartment. I need a sterile dressing. And keep applying pressure on the wound.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice now focused and clear as she sprang into action.

She moved fast, opening the storage compartment with deft fingers, her movements sharp and precise, as if she was preparing for a mission rather than tending to you.

You pressed your palm against the wound, feeling the warmth of your blood seeping through your fingers, a steady reminder of how close you had come to something much worse. She moved quickly, her hands steady as she helped you apply the sterile dressing, her focus narrowing to the wound and the task at hand. Every motion was deliberate, practiced, as if she could will the injury to heal faster by sheer concentration alone. You could see the intensity in her eyes as she pressed the bandage into place, holding it with just the right amount of pressure.

“If the bleeding doesn’t stop, we might have to close it here,” you murmured, your voice softer than usual, but calm.

Natasha’s gaze flickered up at you for a brief second, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t like that idea, you could tell, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she nodded, her hands never leaving the dressing, fingers still firm but gentle.

“It’ll stop,” she said quietly, more to herself than to you.

There was no room for anything else in her mind right now. The idea of stitching you up herself with nothing but a first aid kit—it made her stomach turn. But if it came to that, she would do it. No hesitation. You mattered more than anything else.

But after what felt like an eternity, the bleeding still hadn’t slowed enough. Natasha could see the red seeping through the dressing, staining her hands as she pressed down, her jaw clenched. You shifted slightly, wincing, and she knew it was time.

“Nat,” you said softly, your voice strained but steady. “We have to stitch it… Headquarters is too far… and I haven’t stopped bleeding yet.”

Her heart dropped at your words, though she didn’t let it show. She looked at you, her eyes meeting yours for a long moment, searching for any sign that you were exaggerating, but of course, you weren’t. You were right. She knew you were right, and it frustrated her, the fact that you were in this situation in the first place. She hated seeing you like this—hurt, bleeding, vulnerable. And yet, you were the calm one, the one keeping it together, while she was unraveling inside.

“Okay,” she finally said, her voice rougher than usual. “I’ll do it. Just—just hold on.”

She didn’t wait for you to respond before reaching for the first aid kit again. Natasha had stitched up wounds countless times before, but as looked at you, needle and thread in hand, her fingers trembled. The thought of piercing your skin, of causing you more pain—even if it was necessary—made her stomach twist. She’d done this under fire, in the middle of chaos, but doing it to you? That was different. The stakes felt impossibly high.

You noticed, of course. You always did. Your hand moved to brush against hers, your voice soft but steady despite the pain you were clearly in.

“Nat… it’s okay,” you murmured, your eyes catching hers. “I trust you.”

She paused, swallowing hard as she glanced up at you. The calm in your voice did something to her—grounded her in a way nothing else could. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and gave a small nod, her gaze holding yours for a moment longer.

“Okay,” Natasha said, her voice quiet but firmer now. “I’ll make it quick.”

And with that, she focused, her hands moving with care, the weight of your trust making her steady. She might have been nervous, but you didn’t waver. You stayed calm, and in that calm, she found her own strength.

As she’s started the first stitch, she could see the way your body tensed, the way your breath hitched for just a second before you steadied it. You were doing everything in your power to hide the pain, to keep your face as calm as possible, but Natasha knew. She could see the flicker of discomfort in your eyes, the tight grip you had on the edge of the stretcher. Every wince, no matter how small, sent a pang of guilt through her.

“Sorry, detka,” she muttered softly, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes never leaving the wound as she worked. The thread pulled through your skin again, and you flinched, just a little.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t complain, but she felt it. She always did. Each time her hands moved, she muttered another quiet apology as though she could somehow will the pain away with her words. She hated this—hated that you were hurt, hated that she was the one causing you more pain, even if it was to help. But you didn’t falter, not once. Even through the pain, you stayed steady, biting back the grimaces that Natasha could still see in the tension of your jaw. But no matter how much you tried to hide it, she knew. She always knew.

Natasha finished the last stitch with steady hands, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. She was careful, every move precise, making sure not to hurt you more than necessary. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her focus unwavering even though you could feel the slight tremble in her touch. She didn’t speak much, only the occasional soft apology whenever she noticed you wince.

When she finally tied off the last stitch, she sighed, the tension in her body visibly easing as she put down the needle. Her fingers lingered briefly on your skin, as if to reassure herself that the worst was over. You had been watching her the entire time, admiring how focused she was, how even in a moment like this, she was careful, deliberate. When she sighed, you let your gaze fall down to the stitched wound, and after a moment, you gave a small nod of approval.

“It looks good,” you said softly, your voice a little hoarse but steady. You traced the line of stitches gently, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. “Very neat stitching.”

Natasha glanced up at you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips, though the worry in her eyes hadn’t fully faded.

“Yeah?” she murmured, as if seeking your approval mattered more to her than anything else. You could see the relief start to ease its way into her expression, but there was still that underlying fear, the worry that she hadn’t done enough

She carefully bandaged the area, her hands gentle, wrapping the wound with methodical movements. She moved almost automatically, but her mind was racing, simmering with frustration. She checked everything, gone over the plan a hundred times in her head, ensuring you would be far from any danger, out of harm’s way. But still, somehow, here you were, injured under her watch.

As she finished securing the bandage, Natasha finally looked at you, her eyes searching your face, and that tight knot of anger coiled inside her chest. She hated that you had gotten hurt, hated herself even more for letting it happen, for not protecting you the way she promised she would. The frustration sat heavy on her shoulders, but she swallowed it down.

“Did you get it?” your voice breaks through the silence, soft but curious

Natasha, still focused on the bandage she’s securing, doesn’t quite register your words at first. Her eyes flick up, briefly distracted

“What?” she murmurs, blinking as if she’s coming back to the moment.

“The data. For the mission,” you repeat gently, watching her.

For a second, her expression falters, the steely resolve she’s worn for the past hour cracking just slightly. She realizes where her mind had gone—far away from the mission and its objective, and entirely on you. You, lying there, hurt and vulnerable, a sight she never wanted to see. Her throat tightens as the weight of everything presses down on her, but she pushes it aside, slipping back into the role she knows best.

“Yeah,” she finally says, her voice low and steady. “I got it.”

But there’s something else in her eyes, something she doesn’t say. But after a moment of silence, feeling the weight of her frustration, Natasha finally mutters under her breath—a sentence she didn’t mean to slip out so easily in front of you.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

Her voice is low, tinged with an edge she can’t quite hide, and the moment it slips out, she almost regrets it. But the frustration is real, bubbling under her skin—anger at the situation, at herself for letting this happen, at the fact that no matter how much she tries to protect you, she can’t shield you from everything.

You shift slightly, eyes flicking away from her as if the words hit harder than you’d expected. There’s a beat of silence before you respond, quieter now, a trace of something resigned in your tone.

“I felt like you were going to say that.”

It stings, that simple acknowledgment, because you’re not wrong. Natasha knows you wanted to help, that you’re just as capable as anyone on the field, if not more. But seeing you here now, hurt, is enough to make her want to pull you away from all of it. The mission, the danger—all of it. She clenches her jaw, fighting the instinct to apologize, but the words sit heavy between you.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want you to go.”

Her voice is firm now, but there’s a tension behind it, like she’s holding back more than she’s letting on. She keeps her eyes on you, though you’re still looking away, refusing to meet her gaze.

The fear that this would happen had been gnawing at her the entire time. Every time she heard your voice crackle through the earpiece, every second she knew you were out there, not as far from danger as she’d hoped—it all led up to this. She warned you, she didn’t want you there, not because she doubted your abilities but because of this.

And now, with the bandages wrapped around your abdomen, the sting of her words feels as sharp as the wound itself. There’s a tremor in the silence that follows, the heaviness of what she’s not saying. The real reason—the fear that seeing you hurt like this brings something out in her that she’s not sure she can control.

“It was going fine, Natasha,” you told her firmly.

“Yeah, until it didn’t,” Natasha snaps, her voice taut with barely-contained frustration. She’s pacing now, her fists clenched at her sides, the image of you lying there, bleeding, still too fresh in her mind. “It could’ve been worse, (Y/n). You could’ve been…”

She stops herself, the words catching in her throat, her chest tightening painfully at the thought.

The rest of her sentence hangs in the air, unfinished but heavy with the meaning she can’t bring herself to say out loud. Dead. She can’t even imagine it. The very thought of you being taken from her like that is unbearable, and she feels it—this overwhelming surge of something she can’t control. Her hands tremble just slightly as she forces herself to stop pacing, to breathe.

She turns back to you, her eyes softening despite the anger and fear still swirling beneath her skin. But the image of you, bruised and bleeding, is burned into her mind now. It’s not something she can easily shake.

A sigh leaves her lips once more, quieter this time, the tension in her body slowly ebbing away as she moves closer to you. Her hand reaches out almost instinctively, wrapping gently around yours. For a moment, she just stares at your intertwined fingers, tracing the familiar curve of your palm, as if memorizing the way your hand fits so perfectly with hers.

“I can’t…” she begins, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with something raw, “I can’t see you like that… I don’t…”

Her breath catches, and she struggles to find the right words, the vulnerability pressing against her ribs, making her feel exposed in a way she’s not used to.

“I don’t know what I’d do with myself if something happened to you.”

She says it shyly, almost as if she’s embarrassed by how much she cares, how deeply this fear has lodged itself inside of her. Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, searching your face as if she’s trying to speak with her eyes the full weight of her feelings without having to say any more. Because Natasha isn’t used to feeling like this—this scared, this helpless—and it unnerves her. The thought of losing you, of not being able to protect you, is something she doesn’t know how to handle.

“Natasha, look at me,” you say softly, your voice gentle but firm.

She doesn’t, at first. Her gaze is still fixed on your hands, her thumb brushing over your skin in slow, distracted circles, as if she’s trying to memorize every detail of your skin.

“Baby,” you whisper again, a little more insistent, “look at me.”

Slowly, reluctantly, her eyes lift. There’s a hint of chaos behind them—worry, fear, and something so deeply rooted it makes your heart ache just to see it. She’s silent, but her eyes are pleading, as if asking you to make sense of the turmoil she’s been carrying since the moment things went wrong on the mission.

“I’m right here,” you tell her, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words land heavily between you. “I’m okay.”

You lift your free hand to her cheek, brushing your thumb along her jawline, trying to soothe away the tension that’s crept into every inch of her.

“I’m safe.”

She exhales shakily, leaning into your touch, her eyes still clouded with uncertainty. But she doesn’t pull away. Instead, her grip on your hand tightens, as if she’s afraid that letting go might somehow make you disappear.

“I can’t lose you,” Natasha whispers, her voice so quiet, it almost disappears into the air between you. Her eyes, usually so strong and composed, glisten, and for a moment, you think she might actually cry. It’s rare to see her like this—so vulnerable, so afraid.

Without hesitation, you squeeze her hand, pulling her closer. “You didn’t,” you say quickly, your voice gentle but firm, trying to anchor her back to reality. “You didn’t lose me.”

She doesn’t respond at first, her gaze flicking between your face and the wound she’s just tended to, as if she’s still grappling with the thought of how close it all came. Her breath is uneven, a quiet tremor of emotion she’s struggling to keep inside.

You reach up and cradle her face in both hands, forcing her to meet your eyes. “Look at me,” you say, your voice soft but commanding. “I’m right here.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything at first. She just stares at you, her eyes searching yours like she’s still trying to convince herself you’re really there, alive and breathing. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she nods. Her eyes flutter shut, as if closing them will somehow block out all the fear and frustration inside her. She takes your hand, gently lifting it to her lips, and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles. Her breath is warm, lingering over your skin, and she doesn’t stop with just one kiss. Another follows, and then another, her lips brushing tenderly across the back of your hand as if the contact itself is a way of reassuring herself that you’re still with her.

Each kiss was slow, filled with the kind of affection that makes your heart ache. You feel the tension in her shoulders start to ease, her breathing evening out. When she finally pulls back, her fingers trace over the spot she’s just kissed, her touch light but lingering. She looks at you again, her expression softer now, as if she’s starting to believe that you’re really okay.

“I’m guessing this means that I can’t go on any more missions with you,” you say with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

A small, breathy laugh escapes her mouth, though it’s more of a huff, and the corner of her lips quirk up just a little.

“You think?” she mutters, but there’s no real bite to it. The tension from earlier hasn’t fully faded, but the way you joke, the way you try to make light of the situation—she can’t help but let a bit of the weight lift off her chest.

She shakes her head slightly, her thumb absently brushing over the back of your hand, still holding onto you like she can’t quite bring herself to let go yet.

“I should ban you from every mission,” she says, her voice softer now, almost playful, but with that familiar protective edge. “But knowing you…”

She trails off, giving you a knowing look that makes it clear how stubborn she thinks you are. You grin, despite the soreness and the lingering ache in your body.

“You know I’d find a way to convince you,” you say, tilting your head a little.

Natasha’s smile softens into something more tender as she looks at you, her green eyes holding yours.

“Yeah,” she whispers, and there’s a quiet, tired fondness in her voice now. “Yeah, you probably would… But, no more of this.”

You close your eyes for a second, feeling the warmth of her skin, “I’ll try,” you say, voice soft. It’s not quite a promise, but it’s enough for now.

“I can’t take you away from your work. It’s your job… It’s both of ours.” Her voice cuts through the air, firm and unyielding, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m just not letting you out of my sight again.”

There’s a finality in her words that makes you pause, a quiet intensity that speaks to something deeper than her usual protectiveness. Her eyes, still lingering on yours, are resolute, as if she’s already made up her mind. You can see it in the set of her jaw, the tightness in her shoulders—she’s serious. This isn’t just about the mission, or even the injury. It’s about something bigger, something she’s been holding onto for too long.

You know Natasha. You know the layers of her. How she’s always the one in control, always calculated, prepared for anything. But right now, there’s a vulnerability in her that’s hard to ignore. She’s not just saying this to keep you safe; she’s saying it because the thought of losing you is something she can’t bear, something she can’t even let herself entertain for too long without feeling like the ground is slipping out from under her.

You open your mouth to respond, to maybe crack another joke or reassure her that you’re okay, but the words catch in your throat when you see the look on her face. She’s staring at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, and it makes your heart ache a little, knowing how hard it is for her to let that kind of emotion show.

“I’m serious,” she adds, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. Her hand tightens around yours, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m not losing you.”

There’s a moment of silence, heavy and filled with everything neither of you are saying. You want to protest, to tell her she doesn’t need to worry so much, but you can’t. Because you know—deep down, you know that she’s right. And maybe part of you doesn’t mind the idea of her always being there, watching over you, making sure you’re safe.

But for now, you just squeeze her hand in return, letting the weight of her words settle over you both. It’s not a conversation you need to finish right now. You’re alive, and for Natasha, that’s all that matters.

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theemporium · 11 months ago

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[4.1k] when a last minute team meeting takes them to amsterdam, lando decides to take the opportunity to see what his teammate is like under the influence. (smut)

part two to this blurb that spiralled into landoscar smut somehow

It happened in Amsterdam.

With a new sponsor on the rise and the team desperate to lock down the deal before the new season started, Lando and Oscar were asked to fly out to the Netherlands a few weeks before the car launch. It put a small damper on both men’s winter break plans, the last few days of freedom they had before they dived into work mode for the new season—but ultimately, neither boy complained.

Oscar had felt bad for having to cancel your plans, knowing how excited you were about planning a few days for the two of you to spend some time alone together—away from the world, away from everyone. In all honesty, it was what he was looking forward to the most. He knew Formula One was different, that he would be busier than he ever had been in his life, but it never prepared him to be away from you for so long.

So yeah, he was pretty fucking bummed about having to cut the trip out of his plans but he invited you with him to Amsterdam in hopes the two of you could make the best out of a bad situation.

After all, Zak had only wanted them for a day or two, to just sit in meetings and play up some charm and confidence to give the sponsor the last push they needed to sign the deal with McLaren.

And, by some luck you swore was from a higher power, the deal had been negotiated and signed after a very long, tedious meeting.

But Oscar didn’t complain, he couldn’t complain when it meant that he would have more time alone with you in a country he never really had the chance to explore beyond the race tracks and most famous sites.

It just seemed like Lando had a similar idea.

“I got the perfect place to check out,” Lando insisted as they walked out of the busy office building they had been stuck in for the last few hours. “Martin recommended it, said it was insane and a necessity to check out when we were in the city.”

Oscar tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt, but the boy’s words had him intrigued. “And he’s never taken you before?”

“Said it was best to visit in the off-season,” Lando replied, and the smile spread across his face did little to reassure Oscar’s suspicions about the mysterious place. “Bring your girl too! She will love it, Oscar. You both will.”

He raised his brows. “And you’re not going to tell me?”

“Be a little adventurous, Piastri,” his teammate teased, lightly nudging his shoulder as they headed towards their team-appointed cars. “Dress nice. We leave at eight.”

“I haven’t even agreed to anything,” Oscar pointed out, but the Brit didn’t seem all too bothered as he waved his teammate off before climbing into his car.

Truthfully, it shouldn’t have surprised Oscar that you were up for the night out. Lando’s mysterious words intrigued you as much as they intrigued him, and you both trusted Lando enough that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to drag you somewhere dodgy. Hopefully.

So, Oscar tried to push away the voice in the back of his head that said he should have asked more questions. He was a Formula One driver, he was used to control, he was used to always being the one in charge of his own fate. It felt weird to leave everything in the hands of Lando, even if he trusted his teammate more than he did with most people in his life.

“Relax,” you murmured to him as you stepped between his legs, your hands resting on his shoulders as he waited for Lando to message he was waiting downstairs. “It’s one night.”

“I know, I’m excited,” Oscar answered honestly as his hands rested on the back of your thighs, trying not to think about the pretty, little dress you had slipped on for the night. He could have sworn he had never seen it before. A part of him was tempted to cancel the whole night and stay in to truly appreciate the dress. “It’s just the idea of Lando being in charge of everything…”

“Hm, you say that as though you don’t worship the ground he walks on,” you teased, smiling in amusement at the way his cheeks burned pink.

“I do not!” Oscar grumbled, but he was smiling back. “Okay, I do a little. But it’s Lando…he’s my first teammate in Formula One. He is just—”

“I know,” you murmured with a smile, leaning down to peck his lips. “And he cares about you. So relax and trust the fact that he was excited to check this place out with you.”

The place in question—the one that Martin insisted Lando needed to check out—turned out to be something straight out of a Bond movie.

Oscar hadn’t even managed to catch the name when Lando had muttered it to their driver, a giddy smile on his face as he turned back to look at you and Osacr in the back seat. He was excited, buzzing in his seat as he rambled off about random topics could barely even keep up with as he watched the city pass by in a blink through the window.

It was an exclusive club, not very well-known but a local treasure to those who knew of it. One of those places in movies where you knocked on a steel door and grumbled out a password. The kind of places that you expected to feel dodgy and cautious and like you were making the biggest mistake for stepping into the establishment. One of those places that two high-profile athletes should definitely never be caught in.

But Lando just turned to him, that stupidly huge grin on his face as he threw an arm over his shoulder and dragged him inside.

“Relax, Piastri, nobody is gonna care who you are in here!”

And honestly, the thought shouldn’t have been as appealing as it was to him.

But despite the many warnings he received about stepping up as a Formula One driver, Oscar never really wrapped his head around how famous he was. He had his fair share of internet spotlight on him throughout his career, he was used to being recognised every once in a while. But being a Formula One driver—a McLaren one, nonetheless—was a whole new level.

People stopped him in the streets and asked for photos. His face was blasted on huge posters in airports and cities he hadn’t visited before. Every aspect of his life was constantly under a microscope now. He had fans and followers all around the world, not just from his home country. He had a level of fame he couldn’t even conceptualise.

He had a level of fame he wasn’t even sure he wanted.

His whole life he just wanted to drive. He just wanted to get behind the wheel and achieve the dream he had been chasing after since he was a young boy. He just wanted to do what he loved, what he had been passionate about since before he could even remember.

It just came in a package deal with having more attention that he preferred, so the very idea of stepping foot into this exclusive club and nobody caring he was Oscar Piastri? Yeah, that sounded really fucking good.

Your arm wrapped around his biceps as you followed the Brit deeper into the club. It was dark—darker than a usual club—with red-tinted lights surrounding the place, adding a soft hue that was just enough to see a few steps ahead of you. The music thumped through the building, like the bass lived in the walls as it sounded throughout the place.

There was no bar. And the dance floor wasn’t really a dance floor. It felt like a stage, placed right in the middle of the room for people to ogle and observe. The whole place was surrounded in these dimly lit booths, large enough that they almost felt like a room.

The whole place was fucking weird and nothing like he expected.

And maybe that was what thrilled Oscar about the whole situation.

“Where do we order our drinks?” He had asked as they made their way to the far left corner, the furthest place from the door. The surrounding booths were empty but Lando still chose the one right in the corner as he flopped down onto the large cushioned sofas.

He watched as you and Oscar took the seat across from him as he grinned.

Oscar raised his brows.

“We are in fucking Amsterdam,” Lando snorted, something glinting in his eyes that even the dim, red lights seemed to pick up. “You don’t come here to get shit-faced drunk, Oscar.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You brought us to your dodgy club to get stoned?”

“Best in the city, baby,” Lando said, the smile on his face widening as he leaned back against the cushions, comfortable and settled with his legs spread a little wider than he usually would. “A little birdie told me Oscar was the kind of man you wanted to smoke with.”

Oscar raised his brows. “You sound surprised by that.”

“Let’s just say there aren’t many sides to you that I don’t think I’ve already seen,” Lando answered with a simple shrug before he raised his hand, catching the attention of a waitress Oscar didn’t even notice was walking by.

And maybe it was immoral. Or sneaky. Or whatever you wanted to call it.

Maybe it wasn’t the most truthful way to experience it but Lando Norris was a fucking curious man and the opportunity fell right into the palm of his hand. Because Logan Sargeant’s words had been ringing in his head like a loop since that night in the club, his eyes being opened to a whole new side of his younger teammate and he wanted to see more.

He wanted to know who Oscar Piastri was under all the layers he seemed to put up when he was sober.

And with the team dragging them to Amsterdam and Martin having told him about this club with the assurance that it suddenly wouldn’t be plastered over the front page in the morning that they were indulging in recreational drugs before the season started…well, Lando couldn’t just ignore it, could he?

It wasn’t noticeable at first and, for a brief moment, Lando wondered if the American was just pulling his leg about the whole situation. He wondered if Logan had just seen his shock to clingy, touchy Oscar when he was drunk and needy and thought it would be hilarious to just add fuel to the fire that night for his own amusement.

Because one joint in and Oscar seemed like he had hours ago in the meeting room, dressed in a fancy suit and looking slightly out of his comfort zone.

But time passed and the edges of his own brain began to feel fuzzy, and Lando started noticing it. He noticed the way Oscar seemed to squirm in his seat, the way his eyes lingered on your mouth as you took a drag from the joint. He noticed the way Oscar’s arm had dropped from around your shoulder to his hand firmly being placed on the bare skin of your thigh instead. He watched as Oscar pressed his body close to yours until there wasn’t an inch of your side that wasn’t touching his.

And then, Oscar was leaning in, his lips skimming past your ear and instantly dropping to your neck like he didn’t even care Lando was there.

Lando couldn’t even bring himself to feel all that guilty as he watched the display, something deep in his gut twisting in desire.

Your eyes fluttered shut as the boy’s lips latched onto your neck, a small sigh leaving your lips as he began to press soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His hand squeezed your thigh, gripping onto it like it was a lifeline as he continued to kiss lower and lower until his lips were brushing against the fabric of your dress.

“Oscar,” you murmured as you raised your hand, fingers threaded through his hair but the boy didn’t stop as he nosed the edge of your dress, his lips dangerously close to your cleavage.

“Want you,” the Aussie murmured, something like a whine sounding from the back of his throat as he nipped the fabric with his teeth. “Please.”

“Baby,” you choked out a noise, your eyes snapping open like you finally seemed to remember Lando was there. You felt breathless as your eyes met his, the dim light making it difficult to read the expression on his face but you could have sworn you saw something quite like desire in his gaze. “Lando is—”

“Not complaining,” the Brit finished for you, his voice a little rougher and even he wasn’t sure if it was from the smoking or the sight in front of him.

Oscar blinked as he lifted his head, his cheeks flushed and his eyes a little red. He looked at you before he shifted his eyes to Lando, his gaze dragging over his teammate. He should have removed himself from you, should have pulled his hand away and slid away—but he remained exactly where he was.

“Don’t be shy, Oscar,” Lando murmured, and something in the Aussie’s chest sparked. “You wanna touch your girl, then who am I to stop you from making her feel good.”

“You gonna watch?” Oscar asked.

“Do you want me to leave?” Lando retorted.

“No.”

Lando’s smirk slowly widened. “Yeah? You two gonna put on a little show for me?”

Oscar blinked before he turned to look at you. His whole body felt like it was on fire, like there were flames coursing through his veins and burning him alight and he never wanted to stop. But as he looked at you, eyes glossy or not, one word from you and he would stop this whole thing, regardless of his own feelings on the matter.

You were his first priority. You were always his first priority.

“You wanna, baby?” He murmured, just low enough for it to only be heard by the two of you.

“I think,” you swallowed thickly as your eyes traced over your boyfriend’s face, as the bubbling desire and strong urge to clench your legs together washed over you with the heat of Lando’s gaze on you. “It would be the polite thing to do.”

Oscar tucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Show him how good you make me feel,” you murmured as his grip on your thigh tightened in response.

And when you couldn’t resist anymore, your eyes snapped over to where Lando was sitting. There was something thrilling about the sight, something your fuzzy brain couldn’t begin to comprehend but your body sure as hell did. There was something about him sitting across from you both, legs spread and eyes focused on the two of you as he watched in silent appreciation.

It felt dirty. It felt wrong. It felt like the last thing the three of you should be doing in a random club in Amsterdam. And yet, none of you wanted to stop.

Lando watched in delight the way a choked gasp left your lips as Oscar tugged the neckline of your dress down, as his lips attached to the newly exposed skin. Your hand moved back to thread through his hair, tugging softly as he pulled your dress down until your tits were exposed.

He watched as Oscar let out a groan at the sight, as his lips wrapped around your nipple. He watched as your head fell back, your boyfriend’s name a breathy moan past your lips as he continued to nuzzle himself between your tits.

“Would’ve never taken you as a tits man, Oscar.” Lando’s voice was rough and low, something that shouldn’t have made the whole situation hotter but it did. “Can’t blame you though, can I? Your girl has such pretty tits, would be a crime to ignore them.”

A whine sounded from the back of Oscar’s throat.

Lando’s eyes fell from your flushed face to the hand on your thigh. He watched as Oscar continued to push the hem of your dress further up until he got impatient and allowed his hand to slip beneath the skirt. He watched as Oscar groaned something incoherent against your skin, as you shifted your hips enough for him to pull your panties down your legs with a speed that was almost impressive.

He hardly had time to blink before he felt the soft thump against his leg, as he looked down to see your panties balled up and now resting on his lap after Oscar had thrown them.

Lando let out a dark chuckle, his head falling back. “You little shit.”

But Oscar didn’t pay him any attention. Oscar didn’t pay attention to anything but you and the feeling of you beneath his lips and touch. His brain was fuzzy, his thoughts were muddled and all he knew was that he really, really fucking wanted to taste you.

Yet, you didn’t seem to share Oscar’s one-track mind.

“Not fair that we’re the only ones who get to have fun,” you murmured, your eyes watching him closely as Lando eyed the pair of panties, seeming to contemplate so many racing thoughts in his head before he reached for them. “Maybe I want a show too.”

Lando’s eyes found yours in the dark. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” it was a little high-pitched as Oscar’s thumb pressed against your clit. “Yeah. Please.”

He let out a groan. “Still so fucking polite when he is all over you.”

You weren’t even sure where the spark of confidence came from—maybe from the way he was watching you and Oscar so eagerly—but your mouth opened before you could stop yourself. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.”

You swallowed thickly, your fingers tugging on Oscar’s hair as you watched Lando’s hand drop to the obvious bulge in his pants. “Of who?”

His smirk widened. “Both.”

“Shit,” you whispered, an embarrassingly high-pitched noise leaving your lips as you tore your eyes away from the older driver before your whole body burned up.

“Look what a good boy he is,” Lando commented, watching as Oscar littered soft kisses all over your chest and collarbone as his fingers pressed small circles against your clit. “Barely even touched you and he’s humping the sofa.”

Oscar’s cheeks burned hot.

“Bet he’s obedient,” Lando continued as the sound of a zipper echoed through the booth, as the rustling made it clear to both of you what he was doing. “Such a good listener, aren’t you, Oscar? Just wanna make everyone happy, hm? A team player.”

Oscar finally lifted his head, his eyes glossed over like he was drunk off lust and desire alone.

“You gonna listen to me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Gonna do what I say?”

He nodded again, his eyes locked on the way Lando palmed himself over his boxers with one hand as he held your panties in the other.

A slow smirk spread across his face. “Get between her legs, baby, I know you’ve been dying for a taste of her probably since she put on that lil’ number.”

And Lando was right. He was obedient. It was almost like his body was moving under a spell as he shifted, as he slid off the couch and settled on his knees on the carpeted floor instead. It should have felt wrong to have his back to Lando, but instead the idea that the boy’s eyes were locked on him whilst he touched himself (even if Oscar couldn’t see) thrilled him more than it should have.

His hands palmed your thighs before he slowly spread your legs, as he pushed the fabric of your dress until it pooled at your hips and exposed you. A whimper left Oscar’s lips as he tugged you closer to the edge, as one hand pushed your thigh back whilst the other guided your leg over his shoulder.

He looked up at you, his cock twitching in his pants at the silent plea in your eyes for him to do something, to give you what you wanted just as bad as him. And his eyes never left your as he leaned down, tongue pressed against your soaked cunt as he licked upwards in one thick, broad stroke.

“Fuck!”

Lando couldn’t help himself as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, as he squeezed the length of himself before pulling his cock free of any restraints.

Lando couldn’t help himself as the hand fisting your panties wrapped around his cock, as he let the lacy fabric run against his sensitive tip and resisted the urge to buck his hips.

Lando couldn’t fucking help himself as he stroked his cock, his eyes locked on the way you panted and moaned and grasped the cushions around you as Oscar worked between your legs.

A part of him wanted to get up, to close the distance between him and you both. He wanted to walk over, he wanted to thread his fingers through Oscar’s hair like you had done before and guide him. He wanted to watch the boy lick and kiss and suck your needy cunt until his face was dripping. He wanted to whisper just what a good fucking boy Oscar really was as he made you come, as Lando watched you come.

But the other part of him liked this—this twisted sense of power. He liked the fact he could sit back and watch, like it really was a show you two were putting on for him. He liked the idea that this went beyond something any of you understood, the way the two of you were so eager and pliant and obedient for him.

He liked that he could sit back, your wet panties fisted around his cock as he watched the two of you moan and squirm and desperately try and look pretty for him.

And you did. You both looked so, so pretty for him.

And you sounded so pretty too when you moaned out his name instead of your boyfriend’s. The way your back arched off the couch, your face scrunched up in pleasure as Oscar held your hips down. The way Lando could hear the way his teammate was groaning against your pussy, see the way his hips shifted like he desperately needed some friction against his aching cock.

It was the prettiest fucking sight Lando had ever seen.

“That’s it, baby,” Lando groaned. “Come for Oscar, let him taste you, yeah?”

You nodded dumbly, far too lost in your own pleasure to even understand what he was saying.

“Bet you’re so fucking hard,” Lando continued, his eyes locked on the way the muscles in his back shifted through his shirt. “Bet you could come just from hearing her moan, huh?”

The whine Oscar let out told Lando everything he needed to know.

“That’s it,” Lando groaned, his fist tightening around his cock as he felt his stomach clench as he neared the edge, as he neared his own orgasm. “Gotta finish the show f’me, hm? Gonna be good for me, yeah?”

You chanted out Oscar’s name as you finally came, shaking and squirming as he held your body against the cushions and continued to suck on your sensitive clit. And when you couldn’t take any more, you lightly pushed his head away to see his expression: flushed cheeks, hooded eyes and glossy lips that you wanted to kiss so bad. But a shifting movement caught your eyes, your gaze moving down to look at the dark patch spread across the front of his boxers.

“Just tasted so good,” Oscar murmured, not even ashamed or embarrassed at the mess he made.

And then your eyes shifted to look at the boy across the room.

He leaned back against the cushions, his chest moving up and down with soft pants. His trousers were pushed down to pool mid-thigh, his boxers just above them and his cock was still fisted in his hand, covered by your panties and his own come. It shouldn’t have been so attractive.

“I think I prefer this Oscar much better than drunk Oscar,” Lando eventually commented, something quite like a smug grin on his face as he looked between you both.

There was a tension in the room, one that none of your fuzzy brains could really grasp onto just yet. But it was there and it was overwhelming and suffocating and you each had half the mind to hope this night never ended.

You didn’t know what would happen after tonight, but you knew until then, the hidden club in the depths of Amsterdam would keep your secret—the secret that maybe all three of you wanted something more than a night fuelled by lust and weed.

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blaydie · 4 months ago

Text

ᥫ᭡ LEARNING TO ACCEPT — “If I ever return home, I’d like you to accompany me. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” Dan Heng x GN reader.

Word count: 2.9k

Contains: Dan Heng x GN reader, Dan Heng IL, affection, kissing, making out, cuddling, NSFW content, love bites, scratches, brief (singular) mention of blood, handjob, brief oral, penetration, aftercare

How long has it been? Since completing his duties on the Luofu, Dan Heng has hardly left his room. It doesn’t go unnoticed by any passenger of the Express; even Pom-Pom has begun voicing their concern over the situation. He has always been distant, but not to this extent. Ignoring text messages, leaving knocks on his door unanswered—it’s as though he’s no longer here.

To say it hasn’t been bothering you would be a lie. You don’t blame him for wanting to be alone. Anyone would feel the same way if they had to relive every torturous memory of a past they cannot control. You just miss him—you never thought it would be possible to grieve the presence of someone who is only a few steps away from you.

Walking out of the parlour cabin, you pass by the archives, noticing the gap from the slightly ajar door. As you were about to carry on, you bumped into someone, unsure of who else could be lurking outside of their room at this hour. It was dark, but regardless of light, you know whose hands are gripping both of your arms to stabilise you.

“Dan?” You kept your voice low, respecting his means of privacy. If he doesn’t want anyone to see him, it would be unfair to reveal he’s finally taken a step outside of his room.

“Hello.” His voice was soft, the grip on you loosening while you find your footing.

Without thinking twice, you step towards him and wrap your arms around him, your head resting against his shoulder. As though relieved by your gesture, a huff of air exerts from his mouth as he holds you in an embrace. It’s been a while since he last saw you; he had come to forget how you felt in his grasp.

Just as you were about to talk again, he pressed his finger to your lips. You notice a light flick on down the hall, your bodies slowly backing up into the archives. When safety is ensured, Dan closes the door and brushes past you, clearing a space for you to sit down on his mattress.

The lights remained off, giving the impression to outsiders that no one was home. You take a seat, eyes glued to the messy pillows and blankets beside you. Dan stands at the databank, finalising some pieces while you get yourself comfortable.

“Are you feeling any better?” You inquire, snuggling one of his pillows to your chest.

“Not really. I’ve been trying to take my mind off of things.”

“That’s okay, take your time. Everyone understands, but we all miss you.”

“I missed you too.” Dan smiles to himself, his steps drawing closer. “I left you a gift; it’s outside of your room door. I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“I’ve had trouble sleeping recently. What is it?”

“It’s a teddy bear. I bought it for you when we were in Belebog. I couldn’t find the right time to give it to you—so much has happened since then.”

“Thank you. I’m guessing I’ll be kicked out soon; I’m running all my luck dry.”

“You can stay if you’d like to. Remember to keep quiet about it though, please.”

“I’m good with secrets.”

“I’ve been taking a break from work for a change. I watched all of that series you recommended to me. It was good.”

“Really? You liked it? I have so many more!—”

“Shh.” Dan laughs, keeping his volume down as he places his hand over your mouth. When you settle, he retracts his arm and wraps it around your shoulders. “I did. We can start a new series together if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much. One that we only watch together.” You beam, poking around his face with your finger until you find his cheek, giving it a light pinch. “That means you have to see me every night. No watching it alone.”

“That would be nice. I’ve been meaning to catch up with you; I’m sorry for leaving your messages unopened. I do see them all. Your words are sweet.”

“Did you see the little kitty plush? It looks just like you!”

“I did. It’s too cute to be me.”

“I think you both look alike. I haven’t seen your face for so long; how do I even know this is Dan Heng? What if you’re a Dan Heng imposter?”

Leaning over you, he flicks on the lamp which produces low lumination, allowing you to gaze upon his facial features. He was in his nightwear, his lips pursed together.

“I know you’re still confused over what you saw on the Luofu. You can ask questions if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to pry. I am worried though.” Upon saying this, his features soften. “You’re not going to leave the Express, are you?”

“Not anytime soon. Don’t stress about that.” Dan reaches for his phone, opening up a streaming app. “I have my reasons to stay.”

“Good. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” You poke your head over, looking at the series he’s selecting to play. “You don’t have to hide your form when you’re with me. I didn’t find it weird; you looked beautiful.”

“Ah, it’s… It’s not like that. I prefer this one. That’s all.” His cheeks flush, eyes flickering up to you then back down to his phone. “There’s too much negativity tied to it. Plus, I don’t exactly blend in.”

“Can I see it again?” You brush your thumb over his hand, a small huff exiting his parted lips.

As your thumb continues to travel his skin, he locks his fingers with yours. Your eyes drift up, the change in his appearance evident. His hair flows behind his back, ears pointy. You instinctively reach to feel the horns crowning his head, but he stops you, holding your forearm in place.

“Let me do it for you.” He speaks in a hushed tone, guiding your fingers around the curve of each horn. The feeling is unlike anything you can think of. They’re much smoother than you imagined.

“Dan, they’re so pretty. Wow…” You’re in awe, captivated by the beauty of the man in front of you. Freeing yourself from his clutch, you tuck a long strand of hair behind his ear and run your finger over the cartilage.

“…” The faint blush on his cheeks darkened, spreading over the ears you have your hands all over. He clears his throat, doing his best to shake the feeling of the way you’re touching him. “Thank you.”

“I think you look amazing. This is who you are; you shouldn’t have to hide it because of a past that’s gotten stuck to you. You’re much better than he ever was.”

As you move back, you catch a glimpse of the wide-eyed expression he’s giving you, his eyes glowing and his mouth twisted into a wide grin. With his arms weaved around your waist, he tugs you closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“I want people to see me for who I am. I’ll never be him. I want all of my accomplishments to belong to me. Nothing of mine should be tainted with his name.”

“That’s how it should be.” You bury your hand in his hair, nails scratching his scalp.

“I truly did miss you,” Dan mumbles against your skin, planting a kiss on your collarbone. “You understand me better than anyone else does. I appreciate that.”

“I try my best. I want you to feel that you can come to me for anything. You don’t have to resolve everything alone.”

Planting more pecks along your flesh, he returns to your neck, his tongue trailing up a patch of skin. His fangs graze you, nipping you abruptly. It felt like a needle, causing you to gasp, gritting your teeth while he quickly pulled back.

“I’m so sorry.” He wipes his mouth, a small trickle of blood escaping the puncture. “My teeth are sharper like this. I forgot…”

He places a kiss on top of the small bite mark, lifting you so you straddle his lap. Both of your hands remain on his shoulders, your foreheads pressed against one another. Pulling down his bottom lip, you lean into a kiss. He holds you tightly, allowing you to take the lead. In all truth, he’s terrified of hurting you. It’ll take some adjusting to get used to interacting with others in this form, particularly in more intimate ways.

Your tongue brushes against his, winning the battle and continuing on. It’s clear he’s holding back, but you aren’t willing to push him. Taking things slow will help him; the last thing you want to do is make his discomfort in this form grow worse. You and Dan have established in the past that this relationship has far surpassed friendship, though there’s yet to be an official label. Whatever reason there may be for that is unclear, but you both know your hearts belong together. Neither one of you would look for this with another person.

Fabric rustles while your hips wind against him, too lost in the moment. His hands tremble as they dip under your clothes, index finger gliding around your waistband. You disconnect the kiss, chest heaving. He pulls his sweater from over his head, rolling to the side to trap you under him. One of his knees is lodged in between your legs, pinning you flat to the mattress.

You drag your hands down his torso, dancing over his pecs and down his abs. His breathing turns heavier, eyes half-lidded as he fumbles with undoing the buttons of your attire. Whether it be due to his recent heightened emotions, he almost seems desperate for your touch. Desperate to touch you.

By looking at him, a pang of guilt ripples through your heart. You can’t imagine being subjected to a life like his, having to deal with the sin of something you wish to not associate with. Dan doesn’t deserve to be treated or viewed the way he is. Sitting back up, you wrap your arms around his neck and drag him into another kiss, causing him to fall with you.

This time, you roll on top, holding both of his hands against the pillow. His lips pout, almost as though he were encouraging you to go further. Due to all of the touching, he became hard a while ago. He was waiting for you to be the one to initiate things.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re the only blessing this life has to give me. I must’ve used up any remaining luck I had to cross paths with you.” He rests back against the headboard, breaking his hands free so he can hold you.

“There’s so much more out there for you. We’ll find them together. We have an entire galaxy to search.”

“And much more beyond that.” He adds, the warm smile reappearing on his face.

You nod, returning your focus to his body beneath you. Sliding down his pants, you see his hardness outlined in his boxers, a small damp spot where pre-cum leaked out. His arousal for you didn’t bring him shame; he was pleased to allow you to see him this way. Vulnerability is something you only share with those you trust most.

Sliding them off, you take his dick into your hand, giving it a stroke before rubbing your thumb over his tip. The sensation shoots tingles up his body, goosebumps appearing up his skin. You continue rhythmically stroking his length, focusing your lips on leaving a trail of marks across his collarbone. He leans forward, allowing you easy access to the back of his neck where his hair covers. Swooping it out of the way, you leave a distinct hickey in a place no one will see. The only two people aware of its presence are you and him. It wouldn’t be the first thing you have both kept secret from everyone else.

Since he was already sensitive, it didn’t take him long to build up a climax, edging closer to an orgasm while you continued your motions. He panted, mouth directly beside your ear as you continued to decorate his skin with kisses and elaborately placed bites. A droplet of cum drips down onto your finger and you stop, wrapping your lips around his tip to clean him up. He swallows the lump in his throat, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand while you sit back up.

After removing your underwear, Dan guides you into the correct position, his tip pressed against your hole. He tilts his head to the side, waiting for you to tell him when you’re ready. With a nod, you lower yourself onto him, feeling him thrust up to speed the process. It didn’t take him long to bottom out inside you; your body is already familiar with his shape, fully accustomed to his size.

You both fall into the natural rhythm, your hips grinding against him while he pushes himself in and out. While he never fails to make you feel good, you intend to dedicate this night to him. He deserves the relief more than you. The longer this played out, the harder it became for Dan to suppress his urges, his knuckles turning white from the force he’s gripping your hips. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face, raising your concern.

“Are you all right?” You whisper, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“I’m—” He bites his lip, suppressing the groan that tried to escape. “—I’m fine. It feels nice.”

Gradually, he begins thrusting into you with more power, your body falling forward, unable to remain upright. He rubs your back, now carefully nibbling the exposed section of your shoulder. His teeth glide over you like a dagger, sending a shiver through your core. You reach the peak of your climax, back arched as he continues to fuck into you, relishing the way you react.

His breathing pattern resembles that of a predator in the wild, the deep grumbles and pants revealing how much of his energy he’s exerting to get you this way. Unable to hold on, you release your orgasm, repeating his name quietly as you ride out the waves of pleasure. His nails dig into you, his final few thrusts sloppy. He held you close to his chest as he came inside of you, refusing to break the connection just yet.

Both of you are gasping, exhausted from the intimacy. Taking advantage of his current position, he litters your arm with kisses, lifting you up to get a look at what he has managed to do to you. Your neck has bruised, alongside a few of the bites on your collarbones; a breathtaking sight to see. You’re marked up by him, completely spent. All his.

The silence between you remains until the sound of heavy breathing dies down. When composed, he slips out of you, watching as his cum spills out of your hole. Reaching for a packet of tissues, he cleans himself and then wipes you down, removing the sticky fluid from your body so you don’t become uncomfortable. You roll off of him, lying on your stomach while he stands. As he’s walking to grab you a more comfortable set of clothes to borrow, he catches a glimpse of his appearance from the reflection of a frame on the wall. He had completely forgotten he revealed his true form, not feeling the horrors associated with the person of his past.

Returning to your side, he helps you up and slips a sweatshirt over your head, readjusting your hair for you. Large scratch marks trail down the length of your back, something he’s too ashamed to tell you about at this given moment. You were a mess, but you’re still as flattering in his eyes as you are usually.

“Go get your teddy. It’ll look strange in the morning when people pass by your door. I’m going to use the restroom.”

“I’m tired.” You yawn, pressing your forehead to his chest while he slides back into his pants.

“I’ll grab it for you then. We can watch the first episode of that series while we try to get some sleep. It’s late.” He flashes his phone screen at you, the large numbers declaring 1:01AM.

Silently leaving the archives, Dan grabs the teddy he gifted you from the floor of the passenger cabin as he redirects himself to the restroom. While in there, he can’t help but stare at himself in the mirror, realising he has a smile on his face as opposed to the usual sombre expression when he sees himself this way. A snicker leaves his mouth as he notices in detail each tiny mark you left on him, rendering it equal to the damage he left on you.

Tossing the teddy at you, Dan climbs back under the blankets and rests his head against yours, clicking play on the first episode of a series he had been hoping to watch with you. Even though you were drowsy, you kept yourself awake with small talk, grateful he trusted you enough to allow you to enter his personal space during such a tough time. As the episode plays out, you can see Dan waiting for the correct opportunity to speak.

“If I ever return home, I’d like you to accompany me. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” His tone was matched by the tender smile on his face, squeezing you tighter in the cuddle.

“I’ll go wherever you go. We’ll stay by each other’s side for the rest of time.” You reply, closing your eyes with a passionate flare sparking flames in your heart. You can rest peacefully knowing that no matter how long it takes, you’ll ensure he can live freely in his own body, being able to experience all the joys life has to offer without feeling the need to hide.

#💌 — writing pieces #dan heng x reader #dan heng #hsr x reader #hsr fanfic #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #smut #hsr smut #18+ divider: cafekitsune #art cred: artofjuu (x)

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maxlarens · 5 months ago

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saw that your requests are open! currently moving flats and cities and wow this is utterly exhausting and scary to do alone - would love to read a lil something with Lando where reader is moving and maybe it's pre relationship but they've known each other a long time and he somehow shows up to help reader out, in between races / on break whatever. Tysm!

omg good luck! genuinely moving is the worst and good on you for doing it all on your own that must be so difficult. i hope you enjoy this💝 i did it with best friend!reader, felt very perfect. and apparently i had some personal insecurities to address?

You’re starting to regret listening to Lando.

This isn’t a new feeling— you often regret listening to Lando. When he begs you to come out only to inevitably disappear with a girl. When he says that you look fine, only for you to look in a mirror and find your hair at weird angles or your makeup smudged. When he invites you to a race just for you to have to spend an awkward three hours around one of his flings; inevitably ending in disaster when he hops out of the car and hugs you first.

Lando’s not an idiot. Lando just doesn’t always know how to plan ahead.

Move to Monaco, he’d said. And you had. At the very least you’d had professional movers and your family then. It was hard work but you’d had help. Still, it had been such a nightmare that you’d sworn off moving again, deciding that the next time you did it’d be somewhere more permanent. That had been a nice dream— perhaps unattainable with Lando around.

It had been great, perfect even, or at least until Lando had found out about the vacant flat in his building. Then you’d been subject to a month of pointed sighs and wouldn’t it be awesome if we lived in the same building and we could work out at the same gym and we’d see each other all the time! Wouldn’t that be great?

You’d tried to tell him that you already see each other all the time, and if it really mattered to him you’d come all the way to his gym to work out. But Lando’s Lando and doesn’t know how to let a thing that he wants go. It quickly becomes a point of contention, a reason for him to whinge at dinner and direct his green puppy dog eyes at you. So, y’know, of course you fold.

Of course you do.

You don’t want him to feel unwanted. And you really do like the idea of living in the same building as him, even if moving is the last fucking thing you want to do.

You hire people to move the big things. The couch, the fridge, the bed. But you’re left with everything else and only your hatchback to move it with. You’ve collected truly an insurmountable amount of things— dishware, linens, random trinkets, clothes and books and decorative stuffed animals. You don’t realise how much it is until you’re packing it into cardboard boxes all on your own and nearly crying at how long it’s taking you.

By some cruel twist of fate there’s no one available to help you. All your friends in Monaco are Lando-adjacent, either his friends or people you’ve met through F1. You’ve got a few work buddies, but no one you feel like you can ask to give you a hand. Besides, Lando’s racing at Spa over the same weekend you’ve got to be out of your old flat— so you can’t rope him and his friends into your mess. Even Fewtrell, who would help, is on holiday.

By Monday morning you’re at your wits end. You’d slept on a thin little futon for three hours last night, and are up bubble wrapping dishes before the sun rises. You’ve got noise cancelling headphones on, blasting some house music playlist that Oscar had recommended you and you’re trying to be okay— trying to let the jumpy beat lift the panic in your heart. But you can feel yourself hiccuping, crying rather. You wipe salty tears off the bubble wrap to make sure the sticky tape stays.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

It’s just overwhelming. Doing this all alone, in Monaco, without your Mum, your Dad, without your best friend. It’s not anyone’s fault, not even Lando’s. Just you and this feeling of inadequacy that you harbour. This sense that you’re not grown up enough, that you’re not accomplished enough. Lando’s out there driving a Formula One car, flying in a private jet and partially running a business and you’re here crying over the amount of shit that you’ve accumulated.

It’s just—

You hear a faint thud, muffled by your headphones. Heart racing, thinking something might have fallen or broken, you rip them off and clamber up off the carpeted floor. You’re ready to run into the hallway, your bedroom, every room that’s still got things in it to find the inevitable wreckage.

But it’s just Lando—

Standing at your front door in an old t-shirt and shorts, with cardboard boxes tucked under his arm. He’s frowning at you. You’re not sure why until you remember that you’re still in yesterday’s clothes and there are dark circles carved out under your eyes. Tear tracks down your face as well, probably.

“What’s wrong?”

He drops the cardboard, it goes sliding onto the floor and he has to dodge out of its way as he steps towards you.

You shake your head, sniffing, “I’m fine, Lan.”

You don’t quite reject his attempt at a hug, just dodge it slightly. Force him to give you a one-armed, half-hearted thing, instead of the squeezing, reassuring hug you’re sure he meant to give you. He grumbles something into your hair that you can’t hear then says,

“Well, clearly you’re not fine.”

You sigh, push him away in your anger at yourself, “I’m fine, Lando. I just— I just can’t do anything on my own as per usual.”

You watch his shoulders drop, his eyebrows press into the bridge of his scarred nose, concern flooding his face. He shakes his head minutely, pink lips parting slightly.

“What are you saying?”

You shrug, looking away and feeling shame fill the cavity in your chest at your admittance of weakness, “You know what I’m saying.”

“That’s absolute shit and you know it,” he cuts back, “You’ve done all this by yourself haven’t you?”

He gestures around you and admittedly the room is rather empty of things. The whole flat in fact. You’ve got just the little things left pretty much, and a bunch of cardboard boxes that are ready to be ferried over to your new building. It’s not nothing that you’ve managed to do over the weekend. You sniff again.

“Don’t say that crap,” he manhandles you into a hug, winding an arm around the back of your shoulders, pulling you to him, “I’d have to pay movers a couple grand to move all my shit, you know that. I wouldn’t be able to get any of this done.”

“Yes you would,” you mutter into his chest, “You’re capable of things.”

He shakes you, just a little, like trying to knock some sense into you, like trying to make you hear your own words, “Okay. Then so are you.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess.”

After a moment, he brings a hand up to your face, uses his thumb to tenderly wipe the tears that pool in your tear duct. You don’t think anything of it then— but you do later—

When the sun is setting over the water and you and Lando are watching it and eating takeaway burgers on your new balcony, in your new flat, that has every single bit of your stuff in it. And you’re thinking about the feeling of pad of his finger on your cheek and how he’s just spent his first day of a very well-deserved summer break helping his friend move—

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for Ibiza?”, you cut him a bit of an admonishing look, and scold yourself for not remembering sooner, not urging him to go pack.

He shrugs, turning his green gaze to you, the light of the sunset making him glow, “‘S fine. I can join later.”

You bite your lip, resisting the urge to tell him to go start packing straight away. You won’t change his mind, once he’s got his heart set on something he doesn’t know how to let it go.

“Will you come with me?”, he asks suddenly eager, as your heart skips several beats, “I know you said you had this to deal with. But.”

“But?”

“But. I want you to come. It’ll be no fun without you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Ibiza will be no fun without me?”

He nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You’re going to say no. It’s on the tip of your tongue, on the verge of slipping out. You’ve got a million boxes to unpack, all your clothes are in suitcases, this is what your holiday leave is meant to be used for. Not the trip to Ibiza that you’d already said no to—

But, it’s Lando.

Of course you fold.

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #💫drabbles #drabbles:ln4 #best friend!reader

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mermaidgirl30 · 1 year ago

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✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Masterlist✨

dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: Hey, guys! Super excited to kick off my first dbf! Joel series. It was originally going to be a one shot, but after some thought I wanted to write more. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Always like to hear your thoughts ☺️ Joel is a menace in this one! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Summary: After going out with your classmate from graduate school, Mr. Miller doesn’t take so kindly to your date when he sees you out and about with the college jock. Will the older, attractive man you’ve been pining after for years finally give you what you’ve been wanting for so long?

Pairing: dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Porn with Plot, dbf! Joel, fingering, oral, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, dom! Joel, (reader is 25, Joel is mid 40’s)

Part 1: Blurring the Lines

Part 2: Secret Glances and Wandering Hands

Part 3: October Surprises and Secrets Slurred

Part 4: Birthday Candles and Rock Concerts

Part 5: Let Me Take You There

Part 6: Hot Tubs and Calloused Fingers

Part 7: Can I Keep You?

On My Knees for You - Halloween one-shot that takes place after part 7

Recommended songs for series “Scary Love” and “Daddy Issues” and “A Little Death” by The Neighbourhood

Part 1 Word Count: 13.6k

The warm August air blows your long hair gently as you sit outside Moonlight Bar, letting the Austin city lights shine in the distance. The lighting is low as the dark blue luminescence of the bar surrounds the alcohol on the back shelf and various plants hang above the edges of the bar. The Goo Goo Dolls play softly across the outside speakers as people mingle together at various white wooden tables strewn across the manicured green lawn. It’s a busy night, one of the more popular bars in the area.

You’re sitting with William. One of the boys that’s in one of your law classes at the University of Texas. He wouldn’t leave you alone at school, so you figured you’d appease him and let him take you out on a date.

He isn’t bad looking. He has shaggy blonde hair and bright green eyes. He’s built like a body builder and has a jawline so sharp that it could cut someone. He’s nice and all, but he won’t stop talking about fucking football. You hate football, but you just smile and nod along to what he says. Occasionally rolling your eyes when he isn’t looking at you.

“Did you see the quarterback get slammed at the game last Saturday? Tim took him out hard! I thought he’d never get up!” he says starstruck as he shows you a picture from the game on his phone, slamming back another drink of vodka as he lowers it to the table.

“I already told you I didn’t watch the game,” you say, trying not to sound obnoxious.

“Oh, right. Well, you missed out. It was awesome!” he shouts as the group of people next to you look at William. You internally groan at the embarrassment that’s caked on your face. You need to get up for a few minutes. You’re bored and want to cut the talk on sports.

“I’ll be right back,” you utter as you get up from the barstool.

“Where are you going?” he asks with a hurt expression on his face.

“To the bathroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes, chill,” you say as you put a hand on his shoulder encouragingly and walk away. You roll your eyes at the action and start walking towards the back where the bathrooms are.

William really is a nice guy, he just isn’t the guy for you. You don’t have that much in common, and he’s way too into football. Granted, he did play as an undergrad, but you don’t really care. You want to talk about subjects other than sports, like maybe something you care about. He never makes an effort to ask you about yourself though. He just wants to talk about sports and his gym routine.

What a bore.

He’s a few years older than you. He’s twenty-eight, and you’re twenty-five. Soon to be twenty-six in a couple of months. You always had a thing for older guys. But lately you had your eyes set on someone else. Someone off limits to you which made you want him even more. But it would never happen. You needed to quit telling yourself it would. He’s too old for you, in his mid forties. Which only makes you that much more curious.

You aren’t watching where you’re going as you round the corner of a small crowd and run straight into someone who feels like a thick brick wall.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going and…” You stop mid sentence as you see just who stands in front of you.

Joel Miller. Your dad’s hot best friend, the older man you can’t get out of your head.

“S’alright, sweetheart. Didn’t think I’d run into you here,” he says as he laughs, his smile making his honey brown eyes crinkle up at the corners, making you swoon and melt under his gaze.

God, he’s pretty.

“What are you doing here?” you ask with surprise in your voice.

“Havin’ a drink? It’s the weekend. Gotta relax somehow,” he says with another small smile as his Texas accent comes out thick and low. That melodic southern accent that could put you at ease on any given day.

“Oh, right.” You move a lock of hair behind your ear nervously and you swear he watches you a little too closely as his eyes trail to your neck, keeping his gaze there a little too long.

“You come with anyone tonight?” he asks as he looks around the crowded bar, bringing his focus back to you.

“Yeah. Came with a date tonight. Someone from one of my classes,” you say carefully.

His bottom lip twinges and his jaw clenches just enough for you to notice. His bicep flexes around his forest green plaid shirt as it’s rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that spider all the way down his lower arms as they end in his massive hands. You gulp at the sight of him, of how seriously hot he is.

Was he jealous of William? Surely not…right?

“You be careful tonight. Don’t let him do anything you don’t want to,” he warns with a deep gruff in his voice, staring at you with serious, dark eyes.

“He’s not going to do anything. He’s nice. He’s-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. “Doesn’t matter if he’s nice. He’s a guy. He can change up on you like that.” He snaps his fingers, looking at you intently. “Jus’ be careful, okay?”

Why was he being like this? Protective. He wasn’t your dad. He didn’t need to keep an eye on you. You had it under control.

“I’ll be careful, but you really don’t have to tell me that. You sound just like my dad,” you say as you roll your eyes, annoyed.

“I ain’t your dad, sweetheart. Jus’ tryin’ to look after ya is all. Don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

Oh.

“Right. Okay…” you say quietly.

Joel skates his eyes down your body as he takes in the tight black tank top as your cleavage spills out a little too much, going over your short, light blue jean shorts as they barely graze your tan thighs, dragging his eyes down your long legs and ending at your clean, white Converse shoes as he slowly looks back up into your eyes.

You suddenly feel self conscious, like you need to cover up a little more. Not like he hasn’t seen you in short shorts and a tank top before. Hell, he saw you in a slinky bikini last summer at a pool party and the man couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

You wouldn’t lie though, you love when he notices you. When he flicks his eyes over you and lingers just a little too long, making you burn with heat from his intense stare. He’s the one you have wet dreams about, the older man you can’t quite shake from your fantasies. But he’s off limits. Because he’s your father’s best friend. And he would never dare touch his best friend’s daughter…right?

“Well, I’ll let ya get back to it. Don’t wanna keep ya from your date. I’ll be around here if ya need me. Just shoot me a text.”

You nod in reply and make your way over to the bathroom, turning to watch Joel disappear into the crowd somewhere. A sea of green getting lost in the abyss. You sigh and walk into the bathroom, trying to get a hold of yourself.

You had met Joel when you were just eighteen years old. He had just moved into the neighborhood, and your dad made quick friends with him. Pretty soon they were best friends. He was always coming to the house to hang out with your dad, always coming to pool parties or cookouts. He even taught you how to play guitar when you asked. And he was a good teacher, the way his hands slid across yours. Those rough, calloused fingers. You’d do anything to be able to feel those again on your skin.

You wondered how they’d feel on your thighs or even someplace else. Someplace sensitive…

You finish up in the bathroom and make your way back to William. Back to where you belong tonight. You need to stop thinking about Joel. He wasn't the one that was taking you out and never would be. Even if that’s something you want, so badly.

“Oh, you’re back. You missed this great conversation me and this guy had about Jake’s pass last week with the football. It was killer!” he shouts as you settle back into your barstool and get situated.

You roll your eyes and give him a polite smile. You’re so over the football talk. Couldn’t he give it a rest? You take a large drink from your red bull vodka and place it back on the bar top as you chase it down, letting it leave a slight burn in your throat.

When you look back up and turn your head slightly to the left, you almost fall off the barstool as you see Joel sitting across the bar, just on the opposite side. He’s drinking what looks to be a cold glass of whiskey on the rocks as the amber color swirls in the cup.

He takes another sip as he keeps his eyes fixed on you intently, letting his eyes roam up and down your body as a faint snarl edges the side of his mouth as he looks over at William.

Holy shit. He is jealous. You can see it in those dark brown eyes as they slightly narrow at the loud mouthed man that sits next to you as he rambles on about football.

He swirls the short straw around his drink as he eyes you again, this time his gaze relaxing into warmth as a gentle smile plays on his lips. You blush at the brooding man and bite your lip as you look down, unable to keep your focus on the intense dark eyes that are staring at you.

What’s his deal? He never dared tried to flirt with you before. Not like this. At least not around your dad. You always felt that invisible line get drawn at times though. Like last summer when you were in a tight, short dress, about to go out with some friends for the night. You felt his eyes burn through you as he stared at your thighs as he glazed over your toned, tanned body. You could feel it in the room how thick the tension was. But he didn’t dare cross that line. Not while he was in the presence of your father.

Joel’s a good guy. He’d never do anything to disrespect or hurt you. He’s kind and caring, always willing to help you out when you need it. Like with your projects or guitar. Or that time when he picked you up when your car got stuck in the snow and drove you all the way back home in the middle of an ice storm.

He’s special. One of a kind. You just don’t understand why he’s still single when he’s drop dead gorgeous. And his curls.

God, his curls. The way his thick, tousled hair curls at the edges as grey streaks line his dark hair. And his beard. That thick, scruffy salt and pepper beard that you want to graze your fingers across in a flirtatious manner. Thinking of how good his lips might feel on yours. How soft and velvety they must be…

You snap out of it as William tries talking to you again. You avert your eyes from Joel and put your attention on the guy that sits next to you.

“Did you finish the paper yet from Mr. Lawrence’s class yet?” he asks as he takes a sip of his vodka drink.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been done for a few days now. Wanted to knock it out before more work got piled on,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Cool. I still got a ways to go. But anyways, you wanna go to the football game next weekend? Our team’s playing here. Thought you’d want to maybe go with me?” he asks with raised eyebrows and green eyes that search yours, hoping for a yes to come from your lips.

That was a hard pass. “Sorry, I already have plans that day,” you lie, trying to sound apologetic to soothe his hopefulness.

“That’s fine. There will be other games.”

You roll your eyes as you internally groan. You’re bored and you don’t want to be sitting here with him anymore. You need someone that isn’t boring. Someone that’s older, much older. Someone with pretty brown eyes and thick arms covered in plaid…

You look up from your long, thick lashes and meet Joel’s stare again as it sears through your skull. His gaze is so intense that it stirs something low in your stomach that feels a lot like heat.

This was bad. Really bad.

You squeeze your legs shut and put out the growing fire, dropping your gaze again so you won’t be tempted to be pulled back into the flames.

William puts a hand on your thigh and leans into you as you catch a whiff of his strong vodka drink on his breath. Joel looks like he could break the glass right under his fingertips the way he’s holding the cup.

Oh, he’s mad. But why? It’s not like he was supposed to take you out. He’s your fucking father’s best friend for God’s sake. You need to get out of the sick delusion that Joel actually likes you more than his best friend’s daughter. He’s only trying to be nice, protective. He’s only looking out for you because that’s what he should be doing, for your dad.

But then why is he looking at you like that? Like he wants to eat you alive and wants to snap the neck of your god awful date.

“You okay if I do this?” William asks as he rakes his teeth over your neck roughly. Nothing is sexy about it. It hurts and his teeth are sharp, and his breath smells horrible. He puts his hand back on your thigh and squeezes as his nails dig into your skin in an extremely uncomfortable way. You wince at his actions.

“William, no. We’re in public. I don’t think-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Joel’s on him in a second, pulling him away from your body as he yanks him out of his seat. Your breath catches at the way Joel is seething and breathing hard as he glares at William with daggers in his dark eyes.

“Don’t think she wants ya doin’ that,” he snarls as venom shoots from his tongue.

“Who the fuck are you to touch me and pull me from my woman?” he yells at Joel as his nostrils flare and his green eyes turn to tiny slits.

“She ain’t your woman,” Joel scoffs, clearly annoyed at the younger, less mature male.

“Oh, and who are you? You her keeper or something?” he asks angrily.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replies, his voice clipped.

Your eyes widen at the statement. Was he marking his territory? He had to be. Or maybe he was just being protective, helping out his best friend to keep his daughter safe. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

Or maybe it did. You can’t tell one way or the other. Your mind’s a blur.

William rolls his eyes and looks over at you. “You want to get out of here? Come on, I’ll-”

You stop him before he can finish that sentence. “No.”

He goes livid as his green eyes turn to murky swamp water. “No? Are you fucking serious?” he asks with shocked words.

“The lady said no,” Joel states firmly as he steps in front of you, blocking William’s view.

“Baby, come on. Let’s go,” William demands, holding out his hand for you to take.

“I’m not yours…” you reply quietly.

“Fine! You can walk home then, bitch,” he says with clenched teeth and a hard line across his forehead.

“Watch how you fuckin’ talk to her,” Joel growls as he pushes William up against the bar table, making the rest of his vodka spill as it lands in a heap on the floor along with the mixed in broken glass.

“You really want to go there? Because I’ll tear you apart,” William yells.

“Go on then. Try.” Joel bares his teeth and flexes his hand into a tight fist.

You can’t let them fight. You won’t let Joel get hurt, even if he can take on William. What would your dad say?

You quickly intercept and step in between them. You put your hands on Joel’s broad chest and try to push him back. “Joel, stop. He’s not worth it.”

Joel clenches his jaw and stares hard at William, about to put a fist in his face. You put your hand over his tight fist and beg him to stop. “Please.”

Joel’s fist relaxes as he looks down at you, his brown eyes softening just the slightest as he focuses on you. Butterflies were swimming through your stomach at the heat that was between the two of you. You had never been this close to Joel. You were only inches from his mouth, so close that you could reach out and brush your lips over his. So very close…

William rips you away from your thoughts as you hear him grab his keys and turn sharply your way. “Have it your way. Enjoy the old man’s company. I’m out of here.” He storms away from the bar in a hurry, leaving you and Joel alone. Together.

You suddenly realize you’re still leaning against his chest, your hand still planted firmly on his. You drop your hand and back away from his space as you rake a hand through your soft curls.

“Thanks for that. You didn’t have to,” you say nervously, your voice cracking at the thank you.

“Save it, darlin’. I could already tell you weren’t havin’ a good time, and then he put his hands all over you. Greedy bastard.” He bares his teeth as he clenches his jaw.

Greedy bastard? Well, goddamn. He does like you. He had to. Otherwise he wouldn’t be talking to you like this. Right?

“Oh uhh, yeah…” You don’t really know what to say to that. And the way he’s flaring his nostrils is making you have heart palpitations. He had never looked that mad before. At least not over you.

“You want a drink? It’s on me,” he says as he tilts his head toward the bar.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, trying not to act like you’re flipping circles inside.

“C’mon then.” He walks you to the bar and pulls out a barstool for you as you sit down. He takes a seat next to you, gently brushing his thigh against yours as he gets into place. You can’t help but gasp a little at the touch. It feels electric.

The young, red head bartender comes over and asks for your drink orders. “Hi, guys. What’ll it be tonight?”

Joel looks over at you and raises an eyebrow, looking you over slowly as if he’s trying to figure it out. It makes chills run down your spine. “Let me guess. Malibu sunset?”

He never gets it wrong. He knows your drink of choice like the back of his own hand. It was that slight attention he always gave you that did it for you. He was always listening, always so attentive when you spoke. He knew you so well it was almost scary. No other man had paid that much attention to you, nonetheless listened to you ramble about your likes and dislikes. But Joel always did.

“You remembered?” you ask with a faint smile.

“‘Course, darlin’. How could I forget?”

You slightly blush and place your arms on the bar top as you lean on it, trying to calm yourself down. He orders his usual whiskey on the rocks, his drink of choice. A scent that you can sometimes smell on his breath when he’s sitting close to you like now. Something you want to taste on his tongue. But that’s only a daydream. That would never happen. Right?

“So, how’s school going this semester?” he asks as he turns towards you, placing one of his arms on the bar top as his plaid shirt squeezes around his flexed bicep, making you uncomfortably hot just looking at his massive arms.

“It’s going well. I mean, it’s hard. Really hard, but I’m managing. I can’t tell you how many papers I’ve had to write already, but I seem to be doing something right because I have straight A’s,” you beam.

“Straight A’s huh? You always were a sharp thing.” He’s looking at you with those deep honey eyes, gently smiling as he admires you. A sight that makes you weak at the knees as you stare at his perfect dimples.

And those eyes. God, those pretty brown eyes. You want to drown in them. Let them grab hold of you as they drag you deeper and deeper until you suffocate under the weight of them.

“Actually, I’m at the top of my class,” you brag, nonchalantly.

Joel lets out a low whistle as he leans back in awe, giving you a once over. “‘Course you are, darlin’. Such a smart girl…” he whispers low and deep, making you bite your lower lip slowly.

There it was. That tension in the air. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the room. That deep smolder that puts dangerous daydreams in your mind. Hot, sticky daydreams…

The bartender breaks the tension as he sets the drinks down in front of you and walks back off without so much as a “let me know if you need anything else” line. He just walks away and helps some loud couple on the other side of the bar.

You swirl the straw around your yellow, pineapple drink and take a sip, letting the tropical taste run down your throat. It’s sweet and delicious, just how you like it.

Joel picks up his whiskey glass and takes a generous gulp. You watch as the rim of the glass kisses his lips, how he takes his tongue and runs it over the bottom of his lips, how he holds the glass tightly as the amber liquid clinks against the ice. You never wanted to be a glass as bad as you did now.

You bite your lip slowly as he puts the glass down and wipes his bottom lip with his thumb as he slowly grazes it over his lip. It’s slow, seductive, the hottest thing you had ever seen. You want to know just how soft those lips are, how good he tastes, how his calloused fingers would feel on your skin…

You shake your head and free the dirty thoughts from your mind. He’s your father’s best friend! This couldn’t happen. Ever. But fuck did you want it to. You never wanted anything as bad as this in your whole entire life. He was just so…perfect.

Last summer when your family had a party at the lake house, your friends all whispered how hot Joel was in his tight grey t-shirt and swim trunks. They’d say how built he was, how he must be great in bed, and they had called him the hottest dilf they’d ever seen. Of course they were right, but you were jealous of them. Because you wanted to be the only one that had eyes for him. You wanted him. Period. Even if he was strictly off limits.

He sits the glass down on the smooth bar top and turns back around, putting his full attention on you. “You uhhh, been seein’ anyone besides that handsy asshole lately?” he asks with darker eyes, a hint of anger on the tip of his tongue as his eyebrows furrow together.

There it was. That jealousy swirling off his tongue. Or overprotectiveness. Or possibly both. You couldn’t tell which it was.

“No, not really. Haven’t been dating much lately,” you say quietly.

“How come?” He’s curious. His eyebrows raise and he focuses intently on you, leaning in just a tad bit closer so he can hear you over the noisy crowd.

“Guess I just haven’t been interested in anyone,” you shrug, blowing it off like it isn’t a big deal, but apparently it is to him.

“Oh, but I’m sure guys are always askin’ ya out. A pretty thing like you, surely. Bet all their eyes are on ya.”

A pretty thing like you? The man just called you pretty. You swear you see stars in your eyes. The room feels dizzy as you take another drink, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“I mean, not really,” you shake your head disagreeing.

“I don’t really believe that, you’re gorgeous. They’re missin’ out on a great girl. Just give it time. You’ll find someone worth your while.” He takes another sip of whiskey and looks at you from the corner of his eye, keeping those brown eyes only on you.

A great girl? Gorgeous?! You can’t help but feel a little disappointed when he says that you’ll find someone worth your while. You don’t want to find just someone, you want him and only him. That’s what you really want. But you need to stop mixing reality with fantasy. Joel would never let that happen. He wouldn’t disrespect your father like that or would he? You hoped he would.

“Have you finished my guitar yet?” you ask all of a sudden excited to see it. Joel was customizing your acoustic guitar and carving sunflowers into the wood. You’d asked him if he could do it because his woodwork was exceptional and you only wanted your guitar in the best hands. He said yes automatically, giving it no thought.

“I am. Just want to polish it up and then she’s all yours,” he says proudly, his smile crinkling up the edges of his mouth, exposing his adorable dimples that you love.

“Can I come see it?” you ask, almost begging with your eyes.

“Tonight?” he asks, hesitating just a bit with his voice.

“I mean, unless you have other plans,” you say, shrugging your shoulders slightly. He looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes, and you notice his hand on his thigh slowly flex like he’s in deep thought.

Why was he hesitating? He had never hesitated around you before. But also, you’d never really been alone with him before. He’d occasionally picked you up a couple times or you’d be alone with him in the room for a few minutes at your house while your dad was grabbing something, but not in his house. Not alone, just the two of you.

He finally speaks as he runs a hand through his tousled curls, watching as they fall back into place perfectly. “No, don’t have any other plans. So, yeah. You’re welcome to come see it. I’ll have you try it out, see how you like it.”

“Maybe you can give me another lesson? It’s been awhile. You’re a great guitar teacher, best I ever had,” you smile at him, just on the edge of being flirtatious and drawing that thin line that you were about to cross.

“That so, darlin’?” he smirks, giving you butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“Mhm,” you hum, taking another sip of your fruity drink.

“Well, glad to hear it. And we’ll see,” he says in a low voice.

He finishes up his whiskey and waits patiently for you to finish off your drink. As soon as you’re done, he pays for the drinks as the bartender takes up the tab.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks as he stands up, pulling out his barstool.

“More than ready,” you respond as you get up and pull your denim shorts down. Joel’s eyes wander down to your tan thighs, and you swear you see that smoldering stare burning in his eyes return as he takes in the sight of your long legs. His gaze stays a few seconds too long as he quickly looks back up into your eyes, trying to play it off as he runs a hand through his thick curls slowly.

A low heat starts in your core, and you have to squeeze your legs together to ease the tension that was there. You’re already wet from seeing how your long legs affected him.

Fuck. You wanted him. Bad.

“Alright, c’mon then. Truck’s this way.” He leads you out of the busy bar as you wind your way through the crowd of people. He puts his hand on the small of your back, and you almost jolt at the action. He’d never done that before. But it feels…good. And you want his hand to continue to stay there, burning all the way down to your skin.

When you get out to the white Chevy, he unlocks the doors and then you climb into the front passenger seat. It’s nice and clean in here and smells like him. That woodsy pine smell that you love just lingering in the air. It makes you a little dizzy.

After he buckles his seatbelt, he puts the key in the ignition and then the truck rumbles lightly, the engine roaring to life. Ghost plays softly on the radio as the volume is turned low. You played Joel one of their songs a while ago and then he got hooked on them. You had to applaud yourself for getting him into your taste of music. Maybe one of these days he’d take you to their concert.

“I see you’re still listening to Ghost?” you ask with raised brows as you look over at him, laughing. He’s holding the steering wheel tight as he drives down the busy city streets, paying close attention to where he’s going.

“‘Course. Can’t believe you got me into them,” he says as he shakes his head, a gentle smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Well, you can’t deny they’re good. I mean, come on. Tobias is a musical genius,” you go on, getting lost in the song that’s playing on the speakers.

“No, you’re right. He’s good. Wouldn’t mind seein’ them if they ever decided to come to Austin,” he replies as he turns a corner, rotating the steering wheel sharp as his large hands grip around the leather. You watch the way his knuckles grasp the steering wheel strongly, wishing you could feel those hands on your body instead.

“Would you take me?” you ask quietly, blurring the lines of a boundary you shouldn’t cross.

His jaw slightly flexes as he flicks his eyes over to you. “If you’d wanna go, I’d take ya.” He looks back at the road before you respond.

“Really?” you ask shocked, not expecting that answer.

“Mhm. Might be fun,” he hums.

You sit back in your seat and smile out your passenger side window triumphantly as you watch the glow of the evening city lights pass by in a blur. This was nice. Having a little alone time with Joel. You didn’t think it’d go anywhere, but you were still glad you were here. With him.

Ghost’s song “Spillways” comes on next, and your eyes go wide as you jolt forward, reaching for the volume so you can turn it up. “I love this song!” you say excitedly.

You guess Joel had the same idea because he ends up reaching for the volume too. Your hand connects with his as he brushes against the top of yours. You gasp at the contact of his rough hand and quickly pull it away.

When Joel drops his hand, it connects with a plastic water bottle in the cup holder and sends it over the edge, tumbling down your way. He quickly reaches out to catch it, but he misses as it goes spiraling to the floorboard. Instead, his hand lands right on top of your thigh as his calloused fingers connect with your smooth skin.

Your eyes go wide as you hold in a breath. His hand feels so good. Both rough and soft at the same time, somehow the two intermingling with each other. His fingers gently curl against the edge of your thigh, lingering there a few seconds too long until he quickly grabs his hand away, bringing it back to the steering wheel hurriedly like his hand is on fire.

“Shit. Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to, well. Put my hand on ya,” he says hurriedly, apologizing in a quick breath.

“It’s okay…” you say slowly, still catching your breath from what just happened.

He lets out a drawn sigh as he takes his right hand and runs it through his tousled curls, looking like he’s in pain or fighting off something deep in his mind. He slowly brings his hand back down and barely grazes the steering wheel. He slowly flexes and extends his hand, the same hand he touched you with. It’s like he just pulled his hand from boiling water, like your thigh ignited something in him. Something hot and tempting…

He brings his hand up and rakes it through his scruff, his eyes in deep thought as his eyebrows furrow together. That touch to your thigh definitely affected him. You can clearly see that. You want to test the waters and bring his hand back down to your burning thigh. Let him trail his fingers up and down your inner thigh as they tease you, as they send slick down your center…

He sighs again before speaking. “Maybe I should just take ya home,” he says undecidedly, his voice right on the edge of shakiness.

Back home? Without going to his house first? No, no, you wouldn’t let that happen. This was your chance. Your one chance to test just where this would go. And you would not go back home without at least trying your luck.

“No,” you say a little too loud, a little too demanding.

“No?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in question at the harsh words that came out of your mouth.

“I mean…I just really want to see my guitar. Please?” you beg with a pleading voice, batting your eyelashes with the most innocent expression you can muster up.

Joel does a double take at you with his hand over his mouth, deciding if he should take you home or not, and then he nods in agreement. “Alright, alright. You can come see it,” he sighs.

Yes! You were screaming in silent victory at the win. You had him eating out of the palm of your hand. You just had to play it cool and not get pushy. If he wanted to make a move, then he’d be the one to do it. You wouldn’t push him. The next steps were all on him.

He was driving with one hand now as he leaned on the driver’s side window with his elbow, his hand gently resting under his jaw. He seemed to be lost in thought about something, his eyes pierced with attention on the road. And then it was silent except for the faint hum of the stereo. An uncomfortable silence you’d rather not sit in, so you decide to start up a conversation.

“So, how’s work going?” you ask, hoping it’ll break him of whatever intense trance he’s under.

“Busy, like usual. Got a few clients in this week, so my employees have been busy with those new projects. Have to say that I’ve been a little overwhelmed lately. Been workin’ late a lot. I feel bad cause a lot of the time I come home, Sarah’s already asleep. So I’ve been missin’ time with her. But I just hired a few more employees, so I’m hopin’ I’ll finally work some normal hours and not a ton of overtime like I have been.” He huffs out in annoyance, his forehead creasing into wrinkles as he rakes a hand over his mouth.

Poor Joel. He looks so frustrated, tired even. You slowly reach a hand out and sit it on his shoulder to show your understanding. “Hey, I’m sure Sarah understands. And I’m sorry you’ve been overworked. Hopefully things lighten up and you can get more time at home. I’m sure you’re exhausted. Especially with taking on side projects with my guitar. If I would’ve known, I wouldn’t have asked you,” you say in an apologetic voice, slowly bringing your hand back down to rest in your lap.

“No, it’s okay. I wanted to do that for ya. It’s no problem. I enjoyed working on it. And thank you, for the kind words. You always know just what to say to calm me down.” He looks over at you and gives you a small smile, nodding his head in a thank you.

“Oh, okay. And I try,” you say as you swallow.

You watch him turn on Waterlake Drive as he pulls into your neighborhood. Except you aren’t going home. Not yet anyways. You’re going to his house.

You pass your street and drive four blocks down as you turn on the dimly lit road. Houses aren’t right next to each other as each house has a big yard and their own privacy. Joel turns into his wide driveway and stops the truck, putting it into park.

Joel’s house is a big two story house that has a wraparound porch on the outside with blue shutters on the arched windows. There are two wooden rocking chairs that sit on the porch, and the yard is covered in towering oak trees. It’s a really pretty house, one that’s too big for only two people, but he fills up the space with all his projects that are lying around just waiting for him to finish.

You get out of the truck and slam the white door shut as you hear the beeping noise of Joel locking the truck. He takes out his keys and places the golden house key in the lock as he turns and opens the door.

“C’mon in,” he says as he opens the door for you, waiting for you to pass through.

You step through and make your way down the polished dark, wooden floors. Pictures of Joel and Sarah hang all along the staircase as you pass right by, heading for the living room.

The living room��s done up in tall white walls with pictures of Lake Texoma and wildlife sprawled across the side walls. A huge 70-inch flat screen sits mounted on the middle of the wall and a big cream colored couch sits in the middle of the room with a couple of leather recliners sitting a few feet apart from each other. A small, wooden side table with a luminous lamp sits next to the couch as it shines light throughout the room. And a tall, glass cabinet sits in the corner of the room that’s full of old Rock and Roll albums that both Joel and Sarah collect. It’s really homey, peaceful. You liked coming over here, even though you have only been a couple of times.

“Where’s Sarah at?” you ask, looking around the quiet house.

“She ain’t here. She’s at a friend’s for the weekend,” he responds as he walks back in from the open kitchen.

Oh. So you were all alone with him. In his house.

Fuck.

“Well, have a seat and I’ll go grab your guitar,” Joel says as he exits the room.

You take a seat in the middle of the couch and try to relax, but you’re still flustered from Joel putting his hand on your thigh. It was probably just an accident. You were probably just blowing it all out of proportion, so you needed to calm the hell down. But you’re all alone with him, and that makes heat build in the pit of your stomach.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Joel comes back into the room with your guitar in his hands. He has it flipped to where you can’t see the front of it, keeping it a surprise for you.

“Alright, here it is. Why don’t you take a look.” He flips it around to where you can see it, and you gasp at how stunning it is.

The solid, light spruce guitar looks as if it’s shining. The strings are completely redone, and the narrow neck and body look like they have been resanded to perfection. But what catches your eye the most is the gorgeous, carved etchings in the acoustic guitar that makes patterns of sunflowers all over the bottom half of the guitar. Gold, pink, and orange fill in the flowers and a single hand painted purple butterfly sits at the top, along with a few sparkly swirls around the edges that are all sorts of bright colors.

You walk over to him and place your hand on the guitar, gently running your hand over the smooth etchings of the designs he had made for you.

Holy shit. It was incredible, the most beautiful guitar you had ever seen in your entire life.

Your mouth is agape and your eyes are wide as you take in the beauty that sits in his hands, just waiting for you to play. “Joel…I don’t even know what to say. It’s beautiful. How did you…” You’re completely speechless. You don’t know what to say.

“You like it?” he asks with a hopeful smile, his brown eyes trained on you.

“Like it? I love it!” you shout in glee.

“Good, that’s good. Glad ya do.” He says as he runs a hand through his tousled curls as one stray curl falls over his face.

God, what you would give to run your hands through those smooth curls. You could get lost in them for hours.

“Here, why don’t ya try it out?” he asks as he hands the guitar to you. You gently take the smooth guitar in your hands and walk over to the couch as you sit in the middle, right on the edge. You strum the cords as it’s perfectly tuned. Joel must’ve tuned it for you. That man was so thoughtful, you just couldn’t get enough of him.

“You remember that song I taught you?” he asks as he comes around the couch and stands a few feet away, looking at you as if he’s waiting on something.

“You mean that Nirvana song?” you ask, not exactly recalling the entire song.

“Yeah. Something In the Way. You remember it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Umm, I think so. It’s been awhile since I played,” you reply honestly.

“Well, go on and try it. I can help ya if you get lost.”

“Right. Okay. Let me see if I remember,” you say as your voice trails off. You get your hands in position and take a deep breath as you line your fingers up just right. You start the song off slow, trying to recall all the notes to play.

You start off strong as you remember the beginning. Joel’s nodding his head in the corner as he watches you, keeping an eye on your fingers as you play. The more he watches you, the more you get nervous. You start to fumble your fingers and mess up the cords as the wrong tune comes out. You’re getting frustrated with yourself that you’re letting your dad’s best friend get you this flustered. It wasn’t fair. What was wrong with you?

“Shit,” you say with a frustrated sigh as you mess up the cords again. You scrunch your brows together and curse under your breath.

“Hey, it’s okay. You just messed up the bridge of the song. Let me show you.” He comes to sit on the couch beside you, so close that his thigh connects with yours as his muscles hug his jeans to him.

He places his left hand on yours as he positions your fingers exactly where they need to be. You bite your lip as his calloused fingers connect with yours, his thick fingers gently guiding you through the bridge. You can’t focus with him this close. He smells like whiskey and pines, a woodsy scent that’s clinging itself to you, making you dizzy from the smell.

You mess up again as you lose focus, only thinking of how good he smells and how delicious he’d taste. You’re starving for him. A hungry lioness that wants to devour her prey. And that prey is Joel.

Your right hand forgets to strum, and you mess up the entire song.

Christ. Get a hold of yourself!

“Sorry, I haven’t practiced in a few weeks. I thought I’d at least remember the entire song. It wasn’t that long ago that I was playing it,” you sigh disheartened.

“You’re doin’ fine, sweetheart. You want me to refresh ya on the song?” he says with deep brown eyes staring you down in question.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” you reply with a more upbeat tone.

“C’mere then.” He scoots his body to the back of the couch and spreads his legs as he grabs your waist and pulls you to him, sitting you down right in between his legs, right against his broad chest. His arms circle you as his hands come down on top of yours, covering them with his calloused fingers burning into yours as he positions them on the strings.

You gasp at the position you’re in. Joel had never taught you like this. Being this close, practically in his lap.

Fuck.

“You wanna go over to C and play these cords together.” He takes your fingers and strums them along the neck of the guitar, guiding your right hand to play some different notes. He takes you through the entire song slowly as he guides your fingers through every note.

“Alright, that’s good. There ya go. A little slower, right there. Good,” he murmurs as his deep breath rumbles from his chest, sending vibrations through your back.

His instructions were always so clear, so crisp as he languidly guides you with his rough hands. He was an excellent teacher, the best you’d ever had. Always so careful, so pristine, so diligent, so attentive…

His hot breath is blowing down your neck as he leans over your shoulder, his lips so painstakingly close to your skin that he could lean over and drag his lips over your neck. He scoots his hips up as he comes closer to you, so close that your back is crushed against his broad chest and his biceps are caging you in as you hold the guitar. His thighs are right up against yours as they gently squeeze your legs, making your breathing pick up at how close he is now.

He’s practically suffocating you with his tight abs and woodsy scent, letting the whiskey get you drunk from his breath breathing down your neck. It’s almost insufferable at how worked up you’re getting over him. You’re agitated, sexually frustrated at how fucking much you want to jump in his lap and pull his lips down to yours. Let him get you drunk off his whiskey taste as his tongue explores your mouth thoroughly.

He dismantles his hands from yours and coaxes you to keep going with a gentle, steady voice. “Now, you try by yourself. See if you can play it back to me.” He lets his hands fall to the sides of the couch as he stays in place, your body tucked into his tightly.

“You want me to play it myself?” you ask with hesitation in your voice.

“Mhm. Go on now. Play it for me,” he repeats.

You take a deep breath and get your hands in place, focusing on the cords. You slowly start playing the Nirvana song as the guitar strums to life. You’re getting the hang of it, finally remembering the right cords to play.

As you get further in the song, Joel sits up straighter and leans forward, his hands moving to his jeans and his lips almost brushing your neck. You keep playing, trying not to get distracted by the handsome man that sits behind you.

You’re closing in on the end of the song, just about a minute more left and then Joel interrupts your concentration. “That’s really good, darlin’. Nice and steady. You’re a fast learner. Think I could teach ya harder, more complicated songs in no time,” he replies with a low voice, making you break your train of focus.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you ask quietly as you continue strumming along lightly, barely picking at the cords.

“Metallica, Bullet for My Valentine, Ghost, all those bands you like,” he lulls as he presses further into you, his lips dangerously close to your skin. You can feel his breath hit your collarbone. That hot, sweltering breath that you want to bask in, burn in.

“I’d like that,” you purr.

“Yeah?” he asks, digging one of his hands into the material of his jeans like he was trying to control himself.

“Yeah,” you reply, still faintly playing the guitar.

Without warning, he lifts his left hand and moves your long, beachy curls out of the way, sweeping them over your left shoulder so he has access to your neck.

He gently slides his nose up the right side of your neck, stopping right before he gets to your earlobe as he breathes in deep. “You smell like citrus and vanilla,” he groans in a deep voice as he moves his right hand to your thigh, resting it gently on the top of it.

Your eyes go wide as his fingers trail up your leg, slowly inching their way to your inner thigh as his fingers flex, running his nails up and down in steady strides, his hand ending just at the cutoff of the denim material, so close that he could lift the edges and dive his hand into darker, wetter regions.

His calloused fingers slowly flex and extend as he gently runs his fingers over your skin, making you want to come absolutely undone right there on the couch. His lips graze your skin as they trail down your neck, barely skimming the surface as you feel just how soft his lips really are. They feel magnetic as he teases you with his lips, not yet fully giving in.

You’re still playing the song, just a few seconds left before it’s over. “Doin’ so good, darlin’. Such a good little guitar player,” he purrs as his lips make contact with your skin, his mouth gently brushing up the side of your neck as you feel him sink down into you, hitting that sensitive spot that drives you crazy.

Fuck.

A wave of slick pools at your center as you squeeze your legs together, a breathless moan getting stuck in your throat. You stop playing, not able to concentrate any longer. Not when his mouth is on your neck and his fingers are pressed against your inner thigh.

“Joel,” you press, your voice coming out as clipped and desperate.

His fingers trail up to the waistband of your jean shorts as he dances his fingers up and down the denim, teasing you like he knows what he’s doing because he does know. He knows damn well what it’s doing to you. He’s working you up nice and slow. Starting that low burn in your stomach as it spreads to your center, down your thighs.

“You tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he says in a deep, husky voice as he kisss your neck again, his fingers slowly unbuttoning the top button on your jean shorts.

Suddenly the room is too hot, the tension too thick in the air. Your breath is coming in and out like you’re about to hyperventilate and your skin is scorching at his touch. You feel your spine tingling as he grazes his lips against your jawline, his fingers slowly unzipping your shorts, getting ready to take them off.

“Don’t stop, please,” you beg as you move your hips up, slowly setting the guitar to the side as you put your hands on his knees, holding on for dear life.

“Don’t want me to stop? Want me to keep goin’? Want me to show you how else I can use my fingers?” he asks seductively, his voice low as you listen to that melodic tone.

“Yes, please. Show me,” you plead as you bite your lip in anticipation.

“Alright, I’ll show ya. Just ‘cause you asked nicely,” he says as he unzips the zipper all the way and pushes the shorts down your legs, letting them drop to the floor as he trails his fingers up and down your inner thighs, letting you squirm against him as you can’t stand the anticipation any longer.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this. How long I’ve had my eyes on you, you pretty thing,” he groans as he ghosts his hand over your center, lightly tugging at your waistband as he slowly lifts the pink lace up, sticking his thumb inside as it trails across the top, not quite yet to your dripping center where you need him the most.

“And those legs. God, those long, tan legs. So soft, so perfect,” he purrs as he trails his left hand up your thigh, letting his finger gently slide down your clothed center as it causes a hiss to come from your mouth.

“You want this?” he asks as he sinks his right hand lower, finding your slick folds as he barely puts pressure on them.

“Oh, fuck. Yes,” you groan out as you try to spread your legs further apart, your center desperate for some relief.

“Mmmm, thought so,” he murmurs, a thick, heavy breath coming from his throat.

He puts more pressure on your center and spreads your folds as he circles you slowly. You can hear the sloshing and sticky noises from your wetness and it’s making you so much more turned on, making you feral for his touch.

“Goddamn, you’re wet, darlin’. All this for me?” he asks with a smirk as he uses his other hand to slowly slide your ruined underwear to the floor, leaving you completely bare on the bottom.

He takes a good look at you as he spreads your legs over his thighs and opens you wider, exposing your dripping cunt that’s at complete mercy to Joel’s hands.

“Fuck, you’re pretty, baby,” he growls as he runs his hands up further and catches your clit as he puts more pressure into it. Circling nice and slow, building up that arousal and heat that threatens to make you come undone in just a matter of time.

“Oh, God,” you moan as you grip his thighs and dig your fingers into his jeans as you lean your back into him, his lips skimming down your jaw as he works at your clit meticulously. Feeding your arousal that’s pooling all around you as another wave of slick washes down your thighs.

“That’s it, darlin’. Gonna show ya exactly how a man should get a woman off. Want you to scream my name by the time I have you comin’. Gonna show you just how good your daddy’s best friend can finger fuck you,” he growls, a low guttural sound coming from deep in his throat. It’s primal and territorial. He’s claiming what’s his. And it’s you. And it’s hot as hell.

You let out a breathy moan as he plunges two fingers into your dripping cunt as he works hard and fast at sliding his fingers in and out of you. Up and down, back and forth as the sounds of slick and wet fingers connect, causing you to buck up your hips at the building sensation. You’re already so close and you can’t take much more. It’s too much. He’s too much.

He presss a hand down on your hips and clicks his tongue, locking you in with his grip so you’re unable to move. “You stay in place, sweetheart. I’m not lettin’ you get away just yet. You’re so close, I can feel it. The way you’re arching your back and tightening your pretty cunt around my fingers. You’re almost there, and I’m gonna make you come hard, understand?” he asks in a low, raspy voice as you feel his bulging erection growing in his jeans as you push back against it.

“Yes. Please, Joel,” you beg as you lay your head against his shoulder, looking up at the now blown out black pits of his eyes as he stares down at you with a devilish smirk on his face.

“Please what?” he smiles down, his smirk playing across the side of his mouth, making him look handsome as hell.

“Make me come,” you whisper out of breath.

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.”

He takes his thumb and presses down on the most sensitive spot of your clit as his index and middle fingers work at your insides, pumping in and out as the wet, sloshing noises get louder.

Your legs start to shake as he circles and circles your clit, rubbing faster and harder as your breathing picks up and a hot, burning sensation is right at the edge of spilling over. The room gets heavier and thicker as the gasping moans and heat intertwine together, making a muggy room of desire and seduction.

Your legs are shaking so much that Joel has to hook your right leg under his as his left hand holds your other one down. He’s going to make you ride out this orgasm whether you can handle it or not. The sensation is overbearing as you feel your walls start to spasm as they squeeze around his thick fingers that pump in and out of you.

“Joel, I can’t…I’m so…I’m almost…” you moan in quick, shaky breaths. Barely able to hang on any longer.

“C’mon, baby. Let go. That’s it. Want you to be a good girl and come on my fingers. Come on, almost there,” he coaxes as he speeds up his fingers and plunges deep into the spongy spot of your walls, pressing firmly on your clit in just the right spot.

You feel your insides clench up one more time around his fingers as white, hot heat fills your entire body and then your walls go slack as you feel yourself release hot liquid all over his fingers. You let your eyes roll back as you moan his name loud as the liquid continues to drip down your center and covers the inside of your thighs.

“There ya go. Such a good girl,” he purrs, his eyes bleeding into yours as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

It’s like you’re hypnotized, in a daze the way your body feels like it’s floating as Joel works you through your intense orgasm, his fingers slowly fucking up inside you as he makes sure he gets every drop of slick inside you that he can.

He takes his other arm and gently runs it up and down your thigh, easing you from your orgasm as you slowly come back to earth. He gently uncurls his fingers from inside you and brings them up to his mouth, lapping up the slick on his fingers as your eyes go wide at the provocative action. He gently runs his other hand down your arm in a comforting way and then slowly unlatches your legs from his grip.

“That was incredible…” you express with blown out pupils, your heart racing a thousand miles per hour as you sink all your weight into his chest.

Joel laughs as he pulls you into his lap and caresses your cheek, slowly pushing a strand of hair behind your ear in an affectionate way. He was being so careful with you, so gentle. You felt so safe and secure in his strong arms. It was nothing like you’d felt before with a man. Joel was one of a kind.

“Glad I could make ya feel good,” he laughs as a gentle smile curls up at his lips, his dark eyes hovering over you as his lips are just inches from yours. You want to taste them, see how good they feel on yours.

“I didn’t think…I didn’t know you were into me,” you answer quietly as you stare up at him, waiting for a reply.

He furrows his eyebrows and flexes his jaw before he speaks. “Sweetheart, I’ve liked you for quite some time now. Just didn’t know how to go about it with your dad being my best friend and all.” He sighs and lets his head drop back against the couch as he takes you with him. He rakes a hand through his messy curls and looks back up at you with another sigh. “Your father would kill me if he knew I just finger fucked his daughter.”

“He doesn’t have to know. It’s our own little secret,” you snicker as you lean your head on his chest. “Joel, I’ve liked you a long time. A very long time. I just thought you were off limits.” You shrug as you relax back into him as his arms pull you in and keep you warm.

“I mean technically I should be off limits, but…” He trails off and doesn’t finish his sentence as his eyes are in a far away place.

“But what?” You shake him out of his trance as he comes back down to reality.

“But…I can’t leave you alone now. Not after this,” he gestures to the mess on the couch that you made. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine now. And I don’t intend on sharing,” he growls as his dark eyes penetrate your gaze, sinking deep into you, awakening something that had been dormant till you met him.

Mine? Oh. You liked the sound of that. A lot. And it was possessive, dominant, making you hungry for more of him, needing more of him.

“Then don’t,” you breathe out in a quiet voice, your eyes intently locked on his.

He looks into your eyes with those desperate, needy honey eyes of his and then looks down at your lips, repeating the sequence a couple more times before he cups your chin and brings you in close. He presses his lips to yours as his large hands cup your face. It’s slow, romantic, everything you hoped it would be.

The kiss deepens as you part your lips and invite him in. He slides his tongue in your mouth and collides into yours as he slowly swirls and massages your tongue with his. His lips are so soft and large, feeling like they’re made just for you. And his taste.

God, he tastes so good. You can taste the hint of hazelnut coffee, a drop of whiskey, and maybe a taste of honey as his tongue invades your mouth in all the right places.

You moan into his mouth as he kisses you deeper, faster, more desperate as he grabs the back of your hair and pulls at just the right pressure. It feels good. Like he’s being dominant with you but also soft, the perfect combination.

You push your body up as you straddle his lap, feeling that tight bulge in his pants as you start to unbuckle his leather belt, desperate to get your hands on him. He puts a strong hand around your wrist and stops you before you can go any further.

“And what do ya think you’re doin’?” he asks as he lifts an eyebrow, a small smile hiding behind his serious gaze.

“I just wanted to make you feel good too,” you confess, giving him the best smirk you can muster up.

“Is that so?” he asks with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Mhm,” you hum, using your free hand to push his broad chest back into the soft couch.

“Hmmm. Alright then, darlin’. Show me.” He lets go of your wrist and lets you pull the belt loose from his dark jeans. You slowly unzip the zipper but before you can pull down his pants, he stops you again as he cups your chin and lifts your head to look into his eyes.

“On your knees,” he growls dominantly as his eyes turn from soft brown to dark black pits as his pupils expand.

“Yes, Mr. Miller,” you reply automatically without thinking as you drop to the soft rug, getting on your knees as you place your hands on his muscular thighs.

“Just Joel, darlin’,” he reminds you. “Now, be a good girl and show me how good you can suck this cock.”

He stares down at you with seductive eyes and a large smirk painted across his face. He looks so goddamn pretty. And the way his plaid sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that cover his arms is making you even more turned on.

You waste no time and pull down his jeans and then his black briefs, freeing his erection from the combines of his pants. It plants firmly against his stomach, and you gasp at just how large he is.

Holy shit. He’s massive.

You gulp and scoot up to the edge of the couch as you bring your hand around his thick width. You start sliding your hand up and down his large length, watching as the veins in his cock wrap around him, feeling the coarse, wiry hair that blankets around the base of him, transfixed on just how big he is.

You bring your head down and slowly lick the tip as you let your tongue swirl around all his sensitive spots, still using your hand to slide up and down him as precum bubbles over the edge. You savour the taste of him as you let the salty flavor run down your throat all hot and sticky like. You lick the tip again, this time looking at him seductively under your long eyelashes as you let your hand work up and down his largeness.

“Fuck,” he moans under his breath as you stare up at him, his black pupils blown out as he watches you devour him inch by inch.

You test your limits and take him further into your mouth, going down as far as you can until you gag on him, slowly coming back up for air before you go back down again.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty sucking my cock, darlin’,” he groans as a grabs the back of your hair as you go down on him again, this time taking him deeper, going past your limits. You choke on him as you feel your throat constrict around his length, feeling just how thick he is as the salty taste runs down your throat like warm cider.

He fists your hair and works you up and down him as you gag and choke on his delicious cock. Your eyes water as you feel saliva pool in your mouth and run down your chin as he takes you as far as you can go, speeding up his actions as he fucks your mouth over and over again. Up and down, deeper and deeper. Driving you fucking crazy.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he growls, sending a wave of slick between your legs as you continue deep throating him.

He loves every second of it, and you love it just as much as he does. You love feeling his cock slide in and out of your mouth, love tasting him, love the way his eyebrows furrow together and the deep, breathless moans he makes from his throat as you make him come to life. And you love how possessive he gets with it. It’s so fucking hot. You revel in making him yours, making him want you, making him feel like he’s the most special man in the world, because he is. He’s so special, and now he’s yours. All yours.

He deep throats you one more time as he hits the back of your throat, making you audibly gag around him as your throat closes up around him, squeezing him as your saliva encases his thick cock.

“Goddamn!” he moans loudly as he pulls out of your throat as the saliva sticks to the end of his hard cock, running a trail of glistening saliva from his tip to your chin as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You miss one as it runs down your face.

Joel leans forward and catches it, wiping it away with his thumb as he cleans the saliva from your chin, making sure you don’t have a spot left on your face.

“You didn’t come,” you say quietly, unsure of why he stopped you.

He bites his bottom lip before answering you back. “I know, darlin’. That’s ’cause I’m not done with you yet.” His eyes turn into deep black pits again as he yanks you up from the floor and straddles you across his lap, the tip of his cock just inches from your weeping entrance as you’re soaked with arousal.

“Want you to ride me, sweetheart. Now get on top of me,” he instructs. He lifts your hips as he moves the tip of his cock to your drenched entrance, just barely slipping in, waiting for you to go down.

“Lower for me,” he demands, his voice raspy and deep. You slowly lower yourself down on him as he presses up deeper into you, expanding your walls right to the point of pain. You wince but keep your face controlled as you start to ride him nice and slow, feeling just how thick he is as you squeeze him, starting to move faster as you go up and down, up and down. Feeling every single flutter that your walls make as his large length caves inside you.

You groan and press your forehead against his as you straddle and ride him, digging your thighs into his sides as he grabs the back of your ass and squeezes, sending slick running down your center. The room starts to grow too hot, the stickiness and humidity mixing in with your fully aroused state. You can feel your hair stick to your face as the sweat shimmers across your forehead. You speed up the intensity, feeling every single detail of his cock as he rams up inside you time and time again. Making you nearly drown in your own slick.

“Fuck,” you groan as you continue riding him, building up that sweet orgasm that’s about to be set free. The sticky, slick noise from him sliding in and out of you is too much. He’s too much, too sexy, too fucking good for you. You need a release, you need to come. This was too much. “Joellllll,” you moan as you draw out the last syllable of his name, begging for him to make you come.

“That’s it, darlin’. Taking me so fucking good like the good girl you are. You’re almost there. I can feel it,” he says seductively, making you bite your lip at how sexy his bedroom voice is. It’s low, deep, provocative. A noise that could make you come just at the sound of. He’s electric.

“Want some assistance, darlin’?” he asks with low, drawn out words. Setting your insides on fire.

“Mhmm,” you hum out, trying your best to keep yourself in one piece.

He grabs the back of your hair and pulls you to his mouth as he devours you, biting your lower lip and shoving his tongue inside your mouth as he twirls around yours, setting your taste buds on fire. Drowning in his coffee and whiskey taste, wanting to drink him down until you can’t taste anything except him. Only him.

He takes control and places his hands on your hips as he bucks up inside you, thrusting deeper and deeper until he’s bottoming out, hitting you so deep that you swear you start seeing stars.

You place your hands around his neck and hold tight, your fingers wrapping around the curls that reach the back of his head as you claw at him, running your nails through his scalp. He moans at the sensation and continues plunging into you with his massiveness taking over you entirely, feeling every vibration through your body as you’re on cloud nine. You’re almost there, almost…

“You on birth control?” he asks with gritted teeth, a low growl leaving his throat as he thrusts inside you, sinking his nails into your sides.

“Mhm,” you choke out a moan, barely able to answer.

“Mmmm that’s good. Real good. Gonna spill all inside ya then. Is that what you want, darlin’? Want my cum inside that pretty pussy?” he asks with a gritted, clipped tone that’s full of arousal.

“Yes, please. Fuck,” you moan as he places his thumb on the throbbing bud of your clit, pressing just enough to pull that building orgasm out of you as you clench around his thick cock and feel white, hot heat slide over you.

You throw your head back and moan his name, feeling yourself unclench from him as you spill all down his long length. You feel your fingertips go tingly, the sensation making its way all the way down to your toes as they curl, feeling your heart speed up as the palpitations set in. It’s the most intense orgasm you ever had in your entire life, and you know then that you will never be able to get Joel out of your head. You’re hooked like a shot of espresso. Needing to consume it every day to be able to function properly. He’s like a drug. Nightshade. Deadly but intoxicating, a taste you can’t resist. A taste you crave, want, desire.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Your face is so fucking pretty when you cum, when you’re saying my name,” he growls as he emphasizes the my. Making it sound like you belonged to him now. And fuck you want that more than anything.

He thrusts inside you faster, harder as he knits his eyebrows together, getting caught in deep concentration as his breaths become ragged, unhinged. “You’re so tight, feels so good inside ya. You’re squeezing me so hard. Goddamn, you pretty thing,” he groans as he digs his fingers into your hips, pounding once, twice, three more times before he holds you down on his thighs and rolls his eyes up to look into yours with those black pits staring up at you hungrily.

He opens his mouth and moans as he spills his cum inside you. You feel the sticky, hot mess coat your walls as he thrusts once more, getting his fill of you entirely. Your breathing is rough and winded as you chase down your high from the intense fucking.

He keeps you there, staying inside you for just a few minutes as you both collect your breath and just stare at each other, taking in each other’s ecstasy and heat as the tension doesn’t disperse from the room. It stays like a hot, summer day with the humidity intensifying. It’s like you’re in the middle of a rainforest. It’s so hot, so suffocating, so muggy. And you can see that you’re caught in the middle of a hard spot. Alone with the stalking panther that wants to eat you alive. And that panther is Joel. He catches you, and now you’re all his for the taking. A complete menace at best.

He finally slides out of you as you feel his seed start to drip from you as it drops against his thighs, mixing in with the sweat and lust from each other. He falls to his back on the couch and brings you with him as he pulls you into his arms and brings your legs over his as he gently drags his fingers up and down them, soothing you from the hot cardio you had just taken part in.

“Fuck,” he says in a deep voice as he kisses the top of your head and brings his hand under your chin, lifting it so he can look into your eyes. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby. And your eyes. They’re so beautiful, they’re practically sparkling for me right now, just like diamonds.” Your breath catches as he gazes over you, admiring your beauty and charm as he caresses your cheek affectionately.

Oh, God. You’re in trouble. You’re falling hard and fast for your dad’s best friend. What a mess.

“Joel,” you say with admiration as you rake your fingers through his salt and pepper scruff, acquiring a slight groan from deep in his throat from the light touch. “I like you. A lot,” you breathe as you hold back tears from streaming over. You don’t want this to be over. It couldn’t be. You wouldn’t let it be.

“Oh, darlin’. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. To have you, to hold you, to feel just how soft your skin really was. Been holdin’ back a long time. But something snapped in me tonight. When I saw you with that guy. I wanted to wring his fucking neck,” he spits as his eyes go cold. You gasp at the intensity of him. Of his words. He really does like you. This is real, it’s all real. And you just can’t believe it.

You run your hand down his broad chest as he pulls you closer, and you lean into him as your head rests on his chest, feeling every ragged breath go in and out as his chest rises and falls in waves.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to leave you alone now, darlin’. Not after this,” he says, holding you tight as he strokes your cheek, pulling back another strand of hair behind your ear softly.

“Then don’t,” you breathe, hope filling your gut as you cling to his bulky, tight arms.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he plays with your soft curls, running his hand through your hair gently as it sends a wave of warmth and serotonin over you, completely calming you of any anxiety. “I don’t intend to, darlin’. You’re all mine,” he coos.

Mine. There it was again. You were his and it felt so right.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” he hums as the vibrations in his chest reverberate around you like a thunderstorm but calming you entirely.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” you ask in a quiet, meek voice.

“‘Course, sweetheart. I wasn’t planning on takin’ ya home. Not after this. You’re stayin’ with me.” He cups your chin and slowly brings his lips down on yours as you drink him in nice and slow, fully embracing the taste of him that was now a part of you.

When you finally break apart, you look up at him with a worried look on your face, your anxiety returning in full force like a galloping horse about to collide with another.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows and soft brown eyes that are searching your face, trying to find what was wrong.

“My dad….what if he somehow finds out that we…what if…”

He puts his thumb on your lips and hushes you, a gentle soothing sound coming from his mouth. “We can worry about that another day. He ain’t gonna find out,” he reassures you.

The unsettled feeling dwells in the pit of your stomach, and the worried expression doesn’t leave your face as you continue looking at him. A tear threatening to pool at the corner of your eye, but you hold it in. Not wanting to worry Joel with your anxious thoughts.

“Hey, you trust me?” he asks as he looks deep in your eyes, his brown eyes honing in like a hawk.

“Yes, of course,” you nod.

He takes your hand in his as he clasps his thick fingers around yours. “Then believe me when I say this will work out. I’m not lettin’ ya go, darlin’. I’m gonna make sure your daddy doesn’t find out. He ain’t gonna suspect a thing.”

You nod up at him, slowly pulling yourself back together. “Okay,” you agree.

“Alright. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up in the shower and get ya to bed. You must be exhausted,” he says as he pulls you up from the couch, picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs to his bathroom.

After the warm shower, you get right in his bed with him. Wrapped up in his strong arms with one of his large plaid shirts hugging your body as you breathe in his pine and woodsy scent, enveloping yourself entirely in him as you memorize exactly what he smells like. Wanting to remember this moment as the best night of your life.

You fall asleep shortly as you listen to the faint sound of his breathing as you lay against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you. And that night you only dream of brown eyes, broad arms, thick fingers, and wet, sticky sensations. But one thing still clings to the back of your mind as you dream of Joel. Just one thing that you can’t quite shake as it interrupts your sweet, wet dreams of Joel. And that one thing is your dad.

Fuck. You just had mind blowing sex with your daddy’s best friend.

Tags: @janaispunk @studioghibelli @cinnamongorll @callmecath1 @joelalorian @dugiioh @ladamari68 @amyispxnk @pedrostories @tuquoquebrute

Part 2

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drabblesandsnippets · 7 months ago

Text

Confidence, Part 1

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 2

Pairing: Sex Worker!Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Prompt: “What should I call you?” | [Master | Alpha | Pet] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (7k) AU Bucky is a full-service sex worker who enjoys helping women become more confident in their sexuality.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Mention of an ex-boyfriend. Mention of insecurities/body image. Pet names (sweetheart, baby). Lots of asking for consent. Teasing. Dirty talk. Praise. Issues climaxing. Oral & fingering (f receiving).

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The end of a long-term relationship had led her here. Years of unhappiness. Years of feeling unsatisfied by her ex. Years of wishing things would change.

After she finally found the courage to end things, the breath of relief she thought would come never did. Instead, she was left feeling lost, insecure, and unsure about what she wanted or who she even was.

That’s when a friend referred her to Bucky.

A full-service sex worker who came highly recommended. A man who believes that there’s something inherently beautiful about everyone.

“I’ve worked with all types of women,” he assured her, “and I’ve found every single one of them attractive.”

It sounded like a line, but all the evidence pointed to the contrary.

Bucky’s not just doing this to make money. He truly enjoys what he does. The physical part of it, sure - he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t - but, it’s the emotional aspect that keeps bringing him back.

There’s nothing like the rush he gets from watching a woman find her confidence and blossom under his guidance. That moment when they finally feel comfortable enough to let go of their inhibitions and learn to trust themselves.

It’s a heady feeling, knowing he’s changing their lives forever, and it’s not something he takes lightly.

Over the last few weeks of emails, texts, and phone calls, she found it easy to talk to Bucky about what she wanted out of this experience. Sex is supposed to be fun, and she wants to be able to enjoy herself without worrying about how she looks or if she’s doing the wrong thing.

Even during the more personal topics, like when they discussed what her sex life was like with her ex, Bucky never made her feel ashamed or judged. Her lack of experience and seemingly lack of enthusiasm for certain acts, due to her ex, didn’t make him blink an eye.

If anything, it made Bucky more intrigued to work with her. She was a puzzle he was going to enjoy help figuring out.

Despite his intimidating appearance - his well-defined muscles and the abundance of tattoos, his entire left arm covered in intricate designs - his charismatic personality keeps her relaxed.

His easy-going nature helps her open up as they sit on the couch in the beautifully decorated hotel room, giving her the courage to blurt out a question, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks when she does.

“What should I call you?”

During their last conversation, Bucky had asked her something similar, curious if she would enjoy being called something other than her name. She settled on a few things, but they never discussed what - if anything - she should call him.

With a tilt of his head, and a warm smile, he tells her, “You can call me whatever you’d like.”

The hand that’s been resting on the back of the couch finally moves closer to her, his fingers just inches from her shoulder, making her breath hitch.

“Try not to overthink it,” he continues, his hand drifting closer as his smile turns playful. “Let the throes of passion guide you. I’m good with anything, really. ‘Bucky’. ‘Baby’. ‘Sir’. ‘Daddy’, if that’s your kink.”

She immediately laughs, the pink on her cheeks darkening as she shakes her head at him. She’s just starting to figure out what she might like with a partner, she’s not ready to even consider the last two options.

Bucky’s grin grows and he nods his head in understanding, happy to see that his teasing tone is helping to relax her a bit more. It encourages him to shift a bit closer, his knee just barely brushing against her thigh.

Their layers of clothing do nothing to dampen the rush of arousal she suddenly feels, and she waits with baited breath as his hand hovers over her shoulder, his fingertips almost close enough to touch her shirt.

“Can I touch you?”

It’s such a simple question, but it’s in this moment that she finally understands the phrase ‘consent is sexy.’

There’s something so incredibly intimate and arousing about Bucky asking for permission, despite the obvious reason he’s here.

He accepts the slight nod of her head and the soft whisper of ‘yes’ for now. Eventually, he’ll help her find her voice and figure out how to ask for what she wants.

Until then, he needs to find a balance between her obvious desire for more and showing her that it’s okay to go slow.

She deserves to have someone take their time with her, to learn her body, to help her figure out what brings her pleasure.

She knows what she likes when she’s by herself - that’s never been the problem - it’s allowing herself to be vulnerable with someone that’s the issue. She’s always struggled with being able to fully enjoy the moment, and she’s trusting Bucky to help her learn how to do that.

Goosebumps spread across her skin at the first brush of his thumb along the soft curve where her shoulder meets her neck. A soft exhale and a flutter of her eyelashes tells him all he needs to know, but he still asks, his voice a low murmur.

“Is this okay?”

She’s quick with her answer. A slight nod before she tilts her head, wanting him to keep going. He’s more than happy to, his eyes roaming along her body as he caresses her neck, taking in all the subtle ways her body responds to her touch.

“Does that feel good?”

It shouldn’t make her laugh, but it does. Bucky doesn’t take offense though, just watches her with a grin on his face, his hand never leaving her.

“Why does it turn me on when you ask questions like that?” She’s surprised she manages to get the words out, but any nerves that threaten to consume her are immediately alleviated when Bucky’s smile grows.

She can practically feel how proud he is of her for asking.

He was already excited about working with her, but this just solidifies it. He can’t wait to watch her come out of her shell even more.

As his thumb dips down to trace over her collarbone, he tells her, “I think it’s because it shows you that I care about what you want. That your pleasure is important to me.”

After an audible swallow, and a steadying breath, she admits, “I think I just also like hearing your voice.”

Her confession makes Bucky laugh, the smile reaching his eyes, and he nods his head, “Good to know.” He shifts just a bit closer on the couch, his leg resting against hers, his thumb slowly following a path up to her chin. “Does that mean you wanna try some dirty talk?”

She immediately blushes again, but with his thumb caressing the curve of her throat, she’s forced to keep her head held high.

It manages to give her a boost of confidence, and she lets out a soft laugh, confessing, “Oh god, I’d be terrible at it.”

Bucky chuckles along with her but shakes his head. “Oh don’t worry, you wouldn’t have to say a thing.” His thumb brushes over her chin, almost close enough to touch her lip. “I’d enjoy just watching your reactions.”

He always seems to know just what to say to ease her worries before they can even start. The moment his eyes glance at her mouth, her lips part, and she leans in, just a fraction of an itch.

The smile on Bucky’s face brightens, and he shifts again, mirroring her movements, but he’s not going to kiss her just yet, wanting the anticipation to build a little more. Instead, he repeats his question, softly asking her, “Do you want me to talk dirty to you?”

The slight shudder that rolls through her would make her feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the hungry look he’s giving her. Her reactions are turning him on, and it helps her find her voice again.

“Yes.”

With a tender touch, Bucky tucks her hair behind her ear, and all her senses are suddenly flooded by him - the smell of him, the heat of him, the sound of his voice whispering in her ear.

“Do you want me to praise you?” The question catches her off guard, but she’s suddenly aware of the way her nipples tighten, especially when he asks, “Can I tell you how good you’re doing?”

She wants his attention. She wants to be comfortable with someone complimenting her and praising her. So, with a slow nod of her head, she whispers another soft, “yes.”

But, Bucky hears the difference this time. The word just a bit louder, a bit more confident. She’s trying her hardest to allow herself to face her fears, and he wants her to know that he sees her. That he’s proud of how far she’s already come.

After getting her permission to touch more of her, he takes her hand in his, stroking his thumb across her palm, listening to the change in her breath. Without ever pulling away, he keeps talking, his mouth almost close enough to touch her ear.

“You’re doing so good for me.”

The praise makes warmth pool in her belly and the softest noise of pleasure escapes her.

“Oh,” he murmurs, his touch sliding higher, the pad of his thumb tracing the inside of her wrist. “I like that sound.”

She feels like she’s dreaming. Bucky’s barely started touching her, and she can already feel the wetness between her thighs, the ache for more.

“Let’s see what other kind of noises you can make for me,” he says, his soft beard brushing against her jaw. With one hand stroking up her forearm, his other hand slides into her hair to support her head, giving him better access.

She’s sure her heart is beating loud enough for him to hear, but she makes no move to pull away, not wanting to give him any reason to stop. Her head is flooded with thoughts of what he’s going to do, how he’s going to touch her, but he still takes her by surprise.

Just the softest brush of Bucky’s lips against her cheek before he’s asking, “is this okay?” and she’s a mess.

She doesn’t even recognize the sound that comes out of her, and without thinking, she reaches for him, her fingers trailing over the front of his shirt.

Bucky rewards her confidence with another soft kiss along her jaw, and she suddenly decides to jump in with both feet, asking him, “Will you kiss me?”

The question’s been building all evening, trying to work its way out of her, and his reaction to it makes her wonder why she was hesitant to start with.

“Absolutely.” The way he says it, like he’s just been waiting for her, makes her laugh softly, and he grins as he pulls back just enough to meet her gaze. “I would love to kiss you.”

And the way he kisses her makes her believe him. His mouth soon coaxing hers open, his tongue seeking permission to deepen the kiss, a soft groan rumbling deep in his chest in response to the taste of her.

It’s all so new and exciting, but somehow Bucky’s able to make it feel familiar and comfortable. And for the first time in what feels like forever, she’s not in her head about what’s happening or what she’s supposed to be doing.

She’s just living in the moment, making out with an incredibly hot guy, welcoming his weight on top of her.

If there was ever any doubt that he was enjoying himself, it’s erased when he settles between her thighs, letting her feel how turned on he is.

The moan she makes in return just makes him harder, and he leans up, meeting her gaze, a soft smile on his lips. As much as Bucky's enjoying kissing her, he wants to hear her, watch her as the pleasure takes over.

She’s not sure who moves first, but with a slight tilt of her hips, the hard length of him is suddenly pressed right against her clit, eliciting a soft gasp from her.

It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the two of them still completely dressed, but the moment he starts to move against her, her back is already arching, her body seeking out more.

Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off of her, watching her closely. She doesn’t even realize it, but she’s the one setting the pace here. He’s just following her lead, matching her movements with his own, wanting her to show him what feels good to her.

When he can see the attention he’s giving her is starting to overwhelm her, he closes the distance, placing soft kisses along her jaw, giving her time to relax all over again.

With a soft moan right against her ear, he tells her, “You feel so good like this.” His fingers tighten in her hair at her reaction, her tense thighs and lift of her hips causing his cock to throb between them. “Can you feel how hard I am for you?”

“Oh god,” she breathes, grinding harder against him, his words sending a burst of pleasure straight to her clit. With her hands pressed against his back, fisting his shirt, she quickly nods her head, whispering, “Yes. Please.”

That’s the word he’s been waiting for.

Please.

Bucky’s free hand travels down to her thigh, guiding her to lift her leg just a bit higher. The new position makes her gasp and he groans against her neck, asking her, “Please, what?”

Her body shudders as he starts moving again, the increased pressure between her thighs making her breath catch. She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for. She just holds onto him, her hips moving a bit faster, the pleasure building inside of her.

Bucky still wants an answer, but he doesn’t pressure her for one. He follows her lead, listening to her gasps and moans get louder with each thrust of his hips against hers. He’s pretty sure this might be enough to make her come.

The same thought is running through her head, but it’s not long before the moment starts to catch up with her.

The way she’s starting to sweat underneath her clothes, the way her heavy breathing has caused her throat to go dry, the way her foot keeps slipping off the edge of the couch as she tries to find purchase.

This time it doesn’t surprise her when his voice interrupts her thoughts, asking her, “Can you tell me what you need?” All he wants is for her to be comfortable, and if she’s not feeling this anymore, he’s more than happy to find something that works for her.

She knows what she needs. The only problem is that it’s the one thing that’s been giving her the most anxiety about this night.

Being naked with him. Being vulnerable. Having to trust him to prove to her that she deserves to have someone bring her pleasure.

Bucky is more than up for the challenge though. His entire goal for the night is to show her how good it can be to have someone take care of her. To show her how much pleasure someone can bring her, if she just allows herself to connect with them.

Soon, he’s leading them to stand at the foot of the bed, taking his time to get her to relax against him, drawing her into a kiss that leaves them both breathless.

And with just a bit of encouragement, she’s makes the first move, slowly lifting his shirt over his head. While her hands start exploring his newly exposed skin, tracing the lines of the tattoos that cover his shoulder and left arm, he pulls her into another kiss, groaning against her mouth.

She doesn’t know what’s come over her. She’s never felt this confident before, refusing to overthink how she’s touching him, letting her desire for him guide her. It’s opening her up to so many possibilities, the memory of their conversations about boundaries and kinks suddenly flashing through her mind.

As she encourages him to help her out of her shirt, she softly asks him, “What if I change my mind about something we’ve already discussed?”

It’s clear to Bucky that she’s not asking about things she’s already said she wants, and he takes a moment to consider her question, appreciating the way her nipples strain against her bra.

It’s not lost on him that she makes no move to try to cover up or hide herself from him.

After he gives her another kiss, he meets her gaze, watching her as his finger traces along her bra strap, the back of his fingers brushing across the swell of her breast.

He smiles when her lips part, her breath quickening, and he whispers, “Then you tell me. Tonight’s about learning to ask for what you want.”

She nods her head slowly, but her voice leaves her for a moment. Her entire focus is on his touch, his fingers teasing along the edge of her bra, the occasional brush of his skin against hers making her dizzy with need. She’s not sure she’s ever been this turned on before, especially not during foreplay.

“What is it you think you might want?”

Bucky remembers everything she said no to - everything she knew she wouldn’t like, or didn’t want to try - and he can’t ignore the rush of excitement at the thought that he’s made her comfortable enough to try something she wasn’t sure about before.

It’s not until she’s helped him out of his jeans, leaving him in just his boxer briefs, that she finally figures out how to voice her desires. It helps that he chooses the same moment to kneel in front of her to undo her jeans, the soft brush of his fingers against her stomach bringing her nothing but pleasure.

“I did what you suggested,” she begins, her hand resting on his shoulder as he starts to lower her jeans, his eyes briefly looking up at her, a pleased smirk on his face as he reveals the matching panties to her bra. “The other night,” she whispers, watching as he slowly undresses her, helping her step out of her jeans. “I tasted myself.”

Bucky doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it’s not that.

His hands immediately reach up to hold her hips, his thumbs dipping underneath the waistband of her panties as he lets out a soft groan. The image of her alone in her own bed, touching herself, tasting herself for the first time has him silently praying that this is going where he thinks it is.

He somehow manages to keep his composure and looks up at her, his eyes dark with desire, but his voice steady. “What did you think?”

She’s the one that brought this up, but her skin still grows warm and a soft laugh comes out of her. She’s trying so hard not to overthink all of this - to not let her insecurities start to overwhelm her.

Bucky helps her through this moment, like he’s done all evening. Still kneeling in front of her, he slides his hands down her thick thighs and gently asks, “Do you like the way you taste?”

Her first reaction is to give him a slight shrug, her eyes looking past him. But he quickly gets her attention, finding a sensitive spot along the back of her thigh, the graze of his fingers causing her breath to shudder out of her.

It has the desired effect, and she nods her head, whispering, “Yes.”

Bucky continues watching her as he caresses the back of her thighs, marveling at the way it causes obvious pleasure to ripple through her, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Do you think I’d like the way you taste?”

There’s no doubt in his mind that he will, but this isn’t really about him. Bucky needs her to get there on her own, to believe that someone wants all of her.

She wants to shrug again. To brush off his question and keep her eyes closed, pretending that he’s not watching her right now. But, she can’t. That’s not why she’s here. That’s not why Bucky is here.

After she forces herself to take a slow, deep breath, she finally opens her eyes and looks down at him. The confidence she wishes for isn’t there yet, but she’s able to answer him honestly.

A soft whisper of, “I’m not sure.” And then, a barely audible utterance of, “Maybe.”

Without hesitation, his hands slide up the outside of her thighs, returning to her hips, his fingers tracing along the edge of her panties. “Do you want me to taste you?”

She forgets how to breathe, air getting trapped in her lungs as she tries not to look away. She just needs to ask for what she wants. It should be easy by now. She’s already standing in front of him in just her bra and underwear, letting him see the bits of her that she’s uncomfortable with.

But, for a moment, the words still don’t come. Her hands remain on his shoulders, her nails lightly scratching along his tattooed skin as she tries to refocus. This time, Bucky remains quiet. He just continues to look up at her, giving her as much time as she needs to show him she’s ready for this.

This is something her ex never volunteered to do, and she was always too shy to ask, but she doesn’t want to be shy anymore.

She wants to own her sexuality. She wants to be able to ask for what she wants in her next relationship, even new things she might not even know she wants yet.

With a slight nod of her head, and another trembling breath, she tells him, “Yes. I want�� I want that.”

Bucky doesn’t move yet. The look he gives her conveys how proud he is of her, but he wants to hear her say the actual words. Instead of just expecting her to know what to say, he asks her, “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She swallows the nervous laughter that threatens to spill out and takes a moment to close her eyes, trying to compose herself. How can such a simple term of endearment cause her so much pleasure?

That’s not what she says though. When her mouth opens, the words come before she can overthink them. “I want you to taste me.”

“Oh, good girl.” Bucky’s growl of praise almost has her collapsing into a puddle, but his hands on her hips keep her steady. Not wanting to lose the momentum she’s building, he slides his hands up her back to her bra, asking her, “Can I take this off?”

She’s already made it this far, the intensity of her insecurities starting to lessen each time she reveals more of herself to him. With a nod of her head, she gives him permission, unable to look away as he slowly unhooks her bra, his fingers immediately rubbing along the indentations left behind.

The soft moan of relief she makes has him grinning up at her, and he slowly slides the straps down her arms, giving her a moment to adjust to this new level of vulnerability.

With his gaze still on her face, he tosses her bra aside to join the rest of their clothes and softly asks her, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, please.” The words come easily this time, despite her nerves trying to get the better of her. She’s insecure about her breasts, gravity having caught up to her before she thought it would, and she finds herself wanting his approval.

In reality, it doesn’t matter what he thinks of her body, but he’s more than happy to help her see what he sees.

Matching his pace of the entire evening, his fingers brush along the sides of her breasts, the feather-light touch causing her nipples to pebble.

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells her, unable to tear his gaze away from the way her body immediately arches towards his touch.

Bucky’s given her no reason to doubt his words, and the moment he cups her breast in his hand, her fingers slide into his hair as if to guide him closer.

He doesn’t make her ask for it this time, and she barely registers his breath on her skin before his tongue flicks out to lick her nipple.

The sound she makes causes his cock to twitch and he wastes no time trying to bring more of those noises out of her.

With his heavily-tattooed arm wrapped around her to support her, he immediately closes his lips around the erect bud, his free hand moving to her other nipple.

It’s like he’s on a mission to see just how loud he can make her get before she demands more from him.

It doesn’t take long, her body trembling against him, both her hands in his hair, tugging at the strands.

“Bucky,” she moans, meeting his gaze as he switches sides, his fingers now playing with her saliva-slick nipple.

All he does is grin at her in return, the gentle scrape of his teeth giving her the last push she needs. He can practically see the last of her walls starting to crumble, and as he sucks her nipple into his mouth, she manages to surprise him yet again.

“Please,” she pleads, unable to hide how breathless he’s already made her. “I want you to taste me.”

“Oh fuck,” Bucky groans against her breast. He immediately pulls back and slides his hand up to wrap his fingers around her throat, his tender touch adding to her pleasure. “Is that what you need, baby? You want me to lick your pussy?”

All it takes is a quick confirmation from her and he’s guiding her onto the bed, more than ready to show her what she’s been missing out on.

Within just a few moments, he has her naked and writhing underneath him, his mouth starting at her neck, taking his time to kiss down her soft curves.

By the time he’s placing kisses along her inner thighs, she’s forgotten about all the reasons why she almost didn’t ask for this. All thoughts about her ex-boyfriend are gone, as are her insecurities, and she runs her fingers through his hair, whining softly, “Please.”

Bucky will never tire of hearing that word. And with one last glance up at her, he helps her push her thighs back a bit more, giving him the perfect view of her pussy.

“Mmm.” The groan that leaves him makes her pulse, her hips shifting underneath his hold, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “Eager, are we?” he teases, taking a moment to give her thigh another soft kiss, his beard tickling her pussy.

The question should make her blush - and any other time it would - but Bucky’s good at what he does. He’s somehow made her comfortable enough that not only does she not blush, she actually laughs. With a grin on her face, she quickly nods her head and tells him, “Yes. I am.”

Bucky’s so proud of her. She’s already come so far, and he quickly praises her with a soft rumble of, “Good girl.”

And then he’s rewarding her, the slow swipe of his tongue along her slit immediately reducing her to a low whine of, “Oh my god.” He repeats the action, licking her from her dripping entrance up to her clit, teasing the bud with just the tip of his tongue.

“Oh my god.” She’s not sure she knows how to say anything else right now. She’s barely breathing at this point anyway, her entire body tense with anticipation.

And then he has the nerve to pull away, giving her another grin to tell her, “You were right.”

She blinks, her hands fisting the sheets, her legs already shaking. All she can think about is having his mouth back on her pussy. She has no clue what he’s talking about.

“You taste so fucking good.”

Oh.

She’s not sure she even says anything, but it doesn’t matter because he dips his head back down and gets back to work, tasting her again.

Bucky alternates between long, slow licks and sliding his tongue deep inside of her, wiggling the muscle along her walls. He’s paying attention to all the ways she reacts to what he’s doing, repeating every action that makes her moan or shudder.

She gets lost in the moment, unsure of what to do with her hands, one gripping the sheets while the other holds her ankle, keeping herself spread for him.

She can feel her pleasure building, but the longer he’s between her thighs, the more her insecurities start to resurface. Maybe this isn’t going to happen. No one’s been able to make her come before.

She’s always been responsible for her own orgasm, and while Bucky seems confident in his abilities, her doubt is starting to creep back up.

When he returns his attention back to her clit, Bucky dragging the flat of his tongue over the bundle of nerves, she whispers his name. She feels compelled to apologize, like she’s wasting his time, but the only thing she can get out is, “I can’t.”

He pauses, but doesn’t pull his hands away, his fingers slick with her arousal as he looks up at her. Recognizing the confusion and embarrassment on her face, he realizes one crucial mistake he’s made.

Bucky indulges himself with one more lick before he sets her at ease, explaining, “I’m not trying to make you come yet, baby. I just wanted to taste you, see what you like first.” His thumb teases over her clit as he kisses the soft skin of her inner thigh and asks her, “Is that okay?”

Just like that, he manages to get her back into the right headspace.

After a slow nod of her head, he’s bringing her pleasure again, exploring every inch of her pussy. He's enjoying taking his time, finding all the ways she likes to be touched, learning her body so he can give her what she needs.

He’s also teasing her. Using his knowledge to make her more desperate. He hopes to get her to the point where she can ask for everything she wants without having to get this overwhelmed.

After his mouth moves away from her clit to lick across her entrance, he hears the change in her breathing. His quick glance shows him that her hands have moved to her tits, her fingers tugging at her nipples, and it tells him everything he needs to know.

Bucky returns his tongue to her clit, slowly circling the swollen bud before closing his lips around it, the soft suction causing her back to arch and she quickly nods her head, whispering, “oh god, please.”

But he pulls away again, her soft gasping whine proving he’s on the right track. She’s almost there. Just another quick tease of his tongue sliding inside of her, then back to suckling on her clit. That’s all it takes.

Her hand comes down to his head, fingers gripping his hair, as she breathlessly begs him, “Yes. Please. Just like that.”

This time, Bucky doesn’t move or pull away. He groans against her, unable to stop his hips from grinding against the mattress, her words sending pleasure straight to his cock.

With each flick of his tongue, her noises get louder, the coil in her belly growing tighter.

She might actually come from this. Bucky might actually be able to make her come.

That’s all she can think about.

One hand in his hair, the other back to white-knuckling the sheet, using it for leverage to grind herself against his mouth. She can feel the pressure building, her muscles growing taut, her legs shaking uncontrollably.

She’s going to come.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, seemingly unable to say anything else again. But Bucky still doesn’t change anything he’s doing, staying exactly where he is, his tongue never stopping. “Oh my god,” she repeats, nodding her head, desperate for this to happen.

It’s her downfall.

Just when she thinks it’s finally going to happen for her, the feeling suddenly starts to fade. The whine that leaves her, coupled with the frustrated, “No” has her quickly covering her flushed face.

The last thing Bucky wants is for her to think she’s done anything wrong. Or, even worse, that there’s something wrong with her. Because, there isn’t.

“Shhh,” he soothes her, peppering kisses along her thighs. His thumb returns to her clit, Bucky wanting to keep her pleasure building towards that peak again, and he tells her, “It’s okay. Sometimes we can get in our head. And sometimes... it’s just because we need more.”

She’s able to lower her hands away from her face to look down at him. It’s obvious he’s still enjoying himself, and all he wants is for her to be right there with him. It still takes her a moment of slow breathing for her to finally nod her head at him.

“Can you tell me what you think you need right now?” His slick thumb glides over her clit again before dipping down between her folds, teasing across her entrance.

Her body immediately responds, her hips seeking out more, wanting him inside of her.

Bucky tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at her, the smile on his face growing. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

It does the trick. With another shift of her hips, and more teasing pressure from his thumb, she nods her head. She doesn’t know how, but the words spill out of her without a second thought. “Fuck me, please.”

It takes every once of his control not to immediately let his thumb sink inside of her. She’s so wet, just begging to be filled, but it’s the perfect time to get her to verbalize her needs.

Bucky sits up on his knees just a bit, circling his thumb against her entrance before sliding it back up to her clit. He interrupts her needy whine with, “How do you want me to fuck you?”

She knows what he’s doing. And she’s incredibly grateful for it. Between quick and shallow breaths, she tells him, “With your fingers. Please.”

He tests her resolve, watching her closely as he starts to rub his thumb against her again, almost pushing inside of her. She immediately shakes her head and he pauses, a grin lighting up his face.

Bucky doesn’t even have to ask, she’s more than willing to tell him exactly what she wants. Her words coming quickly. “Please. Fuck me with your fingers. Two of them.”

His growl of praise immediately floods her brain, causing pleasure to radiate from her core. “Oh good girl,” he tells her, more than ready to give her what she wants, “I’m so proud of you.”

The cry that comes out of her as he fills her is unlike anything she’s ever made before. Her back arches and she reaches for him, grabbing his tattooed hand as his two thick fingers immediately find the spot that always seemed to allude others.

Bucky has every intention of tasting her again, planning to make her come with his mouth on her clit while he fucks her with his fingers.

He just wants to take a moment to watch her, enjoying the way the curl of his fingers causes her to gasp. His own body throbbing with pleasure as he strokes along her front wall, drawing more noises from her.

“You are so fucking hot,” he moans, interlocking their fingers as his gaze travels along her body from her thighs to her face, his cock leaking pre-cum at the sight of her.

When she’s able to accept his compliment without looking away, he increases the pressure, listening to the sounds of her wetness fill the air.

She’s finally at that point that he promised she’d get to. Where she feels nothing but pleasure, able to bask in the connection they’re sharing.

“I wanna come for you.” There’s nothing quiet about her request, even as she struggles to get the words out between her soft gasps and moans.

“You really are incredible,” he tells her, eagerly returning to his earlier position, his head between her thighs.

With his fingers still deep inside of her, he presses his tattooed arm against her thigh and places his palm flat against her lower stomach, using his fingers to spread her, exposing her clit.

She welcomes his touch, not a care in the world about how exposed she feels or how his hand digs into her soft belly. In fact, she doesn’t care how she looks at all. All she cares about his how close his mouth is to her pussy again, the feel of his warm breath making her whisper, “Please.”

Bucky glances up at her, a serious look on his face, quieting her pleading for the moment.

“There’s no rush here, do you understand?” He accepts the slight nod of her head before continuing, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “If I need a break, I’ll tell you. Until then,” his raises his eyebrows in excitement, “let’s just enjoy ourselves, yeah?”

She’s quick to agree, forcing herself to relax, resting her head against the pillow. She doesn’t even try to keep her eyes open anymore, the return of his tongue to her clit practically making her forget her name.

With the pressure of his fingers inside of her, rubbing against her g-spot, there’s suddenly not a doubt in her mind that Bucky’s going to make her come.

It still rushes up on her quickly, her senses completely overloaded - the obscene noises his mouth makes against her clit, the slight scratch of his beard on her pussy, the smell of sex lingering in the air.

“I’m gonna come,” she gasps, one hand on her breast, the other on his head, gripping his hair. “Please don’t stop.”

He actually has the audacity to laugh against her, but he has no intentions of stopping. The rhythm of his tongue never changes, Bucky already knowing exactly how to lick her to get her there.

She allows herself to be consumed by the pleasure he’s giving her, and the moment her hips start to move faster against him, her thighs threatening to close, the groan he makes causes her to fall over the edge.

Bucky keeps her held down, even as her body bucks against him, using his strength to keep his mouth on her clit and his fingers buried inside of her.

She’s so tight, barely allowing fingers to move at all, but it doesn’t matter, he just keeps stroking her g-spot, prolonging her pleasure as long as she’ll let him.

It feels like it lasts forever, her body riding out the waves until she’s left a wrecked, trembling mess, incoherent words escaping her lips.

Once Bucky’s sure she’s had as much as she can take, he quickly kisses up her body to pull her into his arms. She wraps herself around him, clinging to him, burying her face against him as he soothes her with soft words of praise.

“You did so good for me.”

“Such a good girl.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

As her body starts to relax, she welcomes his mouth on hers, moaning at the taste of her arousal on his lips. It makes her want more and it’s not long before her hips move underneath him, grinding herself against his covered erection.

Bucky rests his forehead against hers and lets out his own moan of pleasure, his neglected cock wanting nothing more than to fuck her and feel her come. He won’t do anything unless she asks for it though.

The look she’s giving him tells him she knows exactly what’s going through his mind. But, she doesn’t ask him to fuck her. Not yet.

First, she asks for something else - something she thought she wouldn’t want to do, her request catching Bucky off guard, causing his hips to thrust against her.

“Can I suck your cock?”

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

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ghstzzn · 5 months ago

Text

heat ⎯ jay park

pairing: jay park x fem!reader

genre: SMUT! MDNI! bodyguard!jay x rich girl!reader

warnings/tags: smut, bratty reader, mean dom jay, oral (m!rec), brat tamer jay, fingering, rough sex, orgasm denial, spanking, degradation, safeword (not used!), name calling (slut, dumb, whore etc.), pull out method, unprotected sex, masterbation, lots of mean dirty talk!, hair pulling, more tba... might've missed some.

💭: um… hey.. this was supposed to come out a week ago but i kept rewriting the smut part and tbh idk if im completely happy with it. but! here!!!! jay!!! ilysm im so sorry heres 4.7k words to make up for it!!! <3

you had yet to get used to your new routine, which consisted of waking up and getting followed almost every second of the day by your incredibly annoying (-ly sexy) bodyguard. you’ll never forget the morning you opened your bedroom door only to be greeted by a stone cold man who introduced himself as your babysitter.

it was a long week of constant fights with your parents before you realized nothing was going to change and this was how things were going to be from now on. your parents claimed you were too free and careless, and as the face of their multi-millionaire company, they just couldn’t have that.

your bodyguard, park jonseong– though you’ve learnt he goes by jay on the job (you were to address him as mr. park), intrigued you to no end. You were warned by your parents not to act stupid and spoiled around him, but you really couldn’t help it. mr. park is just so easy to piss off.

currently, you stood in front of the fashion center, bodyguard at your side as you waited for two of your friends to arrive. you had a long day of pushing your credit card to it’s limit and you couldn’t help but to be frustrated with the man who stood barely a foot away. you hadn’t gotten the chance to have actual free time to yourself since obtaining the bodyguard, mostly just attending company meetings and dinners with him there. nobody other than your family and employees had actually met the man face to face.

you texted your friends beforehand, sending your apologies for jay’s presence on your girls day out, but they were honestly focused on seeing the hot bodyguard that you mentioned in person.

there is no denying just how attractive jay is. you do wonder how he came about in the job field, maybe the pay was just that good or it was a family business. but it didn’t matter, he had a face sculpted by the gods and if you didn’t hold a small petty hatred for the man, you would’ve recommended him to every single one of the modeling labels you had connections with.

“do you seriously have to be here?” you ask him, tapping away at your phone.

jay straightens his posture, face flattening at your question, “it is my duty to pro-”

you cut him off with a scoff, shoving your phone in the small purse at your side. he repeated that line anytime you complained to his face and you were quite fed up with it. “you have to watch over me and be by my side during every second of the day even when i need to piss– yes i know.” you mock his words. “but this is a mall! i’ll be with my friends, so can’t you just go and busy yourself for a few hours?”

“these are orders from your father, y/n.” he replies dryly, “i am not to leave your side. you do realize this is because of how you act when you’re away from your parents, right? if anything, this is your fault.”

you roll your eyes. jay was correct and you knew that, this was in fact your fault. if you hadn’t gotten caught and almost cost your parents a massive scandal, you wouldn’t have jay next to you at this moment.

“this is also for your safety.”

“i don’t need you to protect me.”

jay clicks his tongue at your response, “no, but you do need to be babysat. don’t you?”

you’re ready to protest until you catch your friends walking up in the corner of your eyes. you shoot a glare at your bodyguard before slapping on a wide smile and squealing as you jog up to your friends.

it’s not that jay isn’t used to walking or standing for long periods at a time, it was the fact that you took every chance to throw a shady comment his way or purposely stepping into every single store you saw even if you and your friends weren’t even interested. why did you feel the need to window shop in a store that only sold bathtubs and showers? you literally had a freshly renovated bathroom– everyone knew this. but you couldn’t help the feeling of victory when jay let out a sigh that went unnoticed by everyone except you.

jay checked the time on his watch for the nth time as you stood in front of a washer and dryer set in yet another furniture shop, talking about the great deal they were having. it didn’t matter, you were born with millions stuffed into your pocket and someone who did your laundry for you. he almost let out a victorious shout when you finally concluded you were done shopping for the day.

“wait! look at that dress.” you suddenly stop, everyone turns their gaze towards the window of the shop. “we have to go in there.”

no one could say anything before you were skipping off into the store. honestly, your friends couldn’t care less either because they dispersed as soon as the three of you entered the department store. jay watched as you asked the staff to try on the dress you had pointed out, a genuine smile painted your face while a frustrated frown made it’s way to his. yet he continued to follow you to the back of the store, taking the smaller shopping bags from your hands that you didn’t make him carry.

jay sat outside the dressing room for one minute, that one minute turned into three which soon turned into five. he lightly knocked on the door before calling out your name.

“is everything okay?”

he could hear shuffling inside the dressing room before the door clicked and opened. you stuck your head out and quickly looked around the store. “have you seen the girls?” jay also glances around the store, shaking his head no.

“can you find them for me?” you ask him softly, he only stares at you with the answer painted on his face. you let out a frustrated sigh. “if you won’t then you’re going to have to lace up this dress for me.”

you had hoped that would be enough to send him looking for your friends, yet he stayed planted right in front of the dressing room door. you stare at him for a moment before opening the door wider and turning around, exposing your back to him in the undone dress.

jay didn't waste a second, immediately grabbing the silk strings of the dress and lacing them through the fabric. you were about to express how shocked you were with his swift movements and skill before he backed away from you.

you did a spin in the mirror, studying the dress that hugged your form perfectly. a smile breaks out across your face when you lift your gaze to meet your bodyguard, who was still staring at your backside.

“do you have a girlfriend or something, mr. park?”

jay clears his throat before stepping further back, “i do not.”

his response doesn’t shock you as much. as attractive as he was, he was stuck at your side almost all day throughout the week. his schedule and job would suck for his hypothetical partner. “you wanna tell me where you learned to tie up a dress like this within thirty seconds?”

you continue to stare at him in the mirror, waiting for his response.

“it’s not that hard.”

“no way,” you let out a laugh. “god, you totally got around before this job– am i right?”

jay doesn’t respond, he only averts his gaze from yours.

“park jongseong, your silence is telling me you were a total whore before you became my babysitter.”

he lets out a scoff at your vulgar language, “that really wasn’t appropriate.”

“you know how to lace up a stupid satin corset. not to mention the perfect bow you tied the ends in– most men don’t even know how to tie a ribbon!” you continue. “less than thirty seconds too… you beat the clock. is this what you did for the girls you fucked?”

“watch your language here.”

you roll your eyes, “we are the same age. i don’t even know why i have to call you mr. park, you literally work for me.”

“i work for your father,” he responds, “and i’m older than you, show some respect.”

you cross your arms, mentally cursing him in your mind. his last comment rubbed you the wrong way and you were ready to start a useless one-sided argument with him. “respect? to you?”

“yes, to me. because i’m the one who has to hold your hand every second of the day because you act like a brat who’s had no parental guidance in her life every time you step into a public setting.”

“my father pays you to be here– you work for us. so if anything–”

“you don’t have any say in your daddys company yet, so again, you respect me.” he cuts you off with a sharp tone. “quit acting like a damn brat and– what the fuck are you doing?”

the dress you had tried on was currently unlaced and on its way off your body. a smirk made its way on your face when you caught jay’s irritated expression that was definitely laced with something more. his lash out gave you excitement and you knew you were pushing him to the edge.

jay shakes his head, backing away and slamming the dressing room door and holding it shut with his hands. this day was driving him insane and pushing him to a point that he’s never gotten to while on other jobs. you were a spoiled fucking brat and he was beyond fed up with your constant snarky remarks and attitude.

you fought with him every chance you could, half the comments you made had no points to them and he knew you were doing it to piss him off. jay didn’t know if your goal was to get him to quit or make his life a living hell with your insufferable personality, but he was sure of one thing– you did it for his reactions.

he did his best on holding back and not giving you what you wanted, but it has gotten to the point where he almost feels the need to step up and put you in your place. unfortunately, this could cost him his job so he knew he needed to hold back. your parents were aware of your shitty attitude so jay knew you wouldn’t make them bat their eyelids twice with your complaints about him.

you push against the door a few times muttering that you were done changing. jay lets go of the door, letting you out. you stood in front of him with the dress in your hands and a heated expression. he simply grabs all the shopping bags and heads towards the checkout counter.

after making your final purchase of the day, you parted ways with your friends after a few dramatic farewells and sat in the passenger seat of the car as you waited on Jay to finish up a phone call– most likely updating your father on your whereabouts.

jay slides into the driver's seat,”your parents won't be home for another few days due to an emergency meeting with a partnership.”

you reply with an uncaring nod, leaning back in your seat and gazing out of the window. jay backs out of the spot and eventually you both head towards your home.

jays scoff cuts through the soft music playing in the car forcing you to look up from your phone, realizing the reason for his scoff. cars were at a full stop on the freeway and you couldn’t even see where it ended.

you lean back further in your seat, slipping your shoes off and resting your feet on the dashboard, “can’t you take a different route?”

“this is the fastest route.”

“that’s not what i asked; i asked if there’s a different route you could take.” you respond with know it all tone.

“if there was another route then i’d be taking it, smartass.” jay glances at your bare legs. he tries his hardest to not let his gaze linger on your skirt that was pushed at your upper thighs due to the position. “put your feet down.”

“why?” you know why. he knows you know why.

“it’s dangerous.”

“but we aren’t moving..? plus, i’m comfortable.”

you were so close. so incredibly close.

“it doesn’t matter if you’re comfortable, put your feet down– it’s not safe and i will not drive you anywhere else unless you move them right now.”

so close.

you roll your eyes and slip your feet back into your shoes. jay lets out a tired sigh. the traffic was barely moving and you were being difficult once more, except this time you were both trapped on the road. you really picked the perfect opportunities to piss him off.

jay lets out yet another sigh when he notices you moving around.

“what?” he asks as you slide the top part of the seat belt behind your head and off of your chest. “put that back on, please.”

“but why?”

“do i really need to explain to you why wearing your seat belt correctly in a moving vehicle is necessary or are you going to be a big girl and put it back on?”

“we aren’t moving, jay.” you whine out. “i’ll be fine! i will put it back when we actually start moving above five miles per hour.”

jay runs his hand through his hair as the other one grips the steering wheel. “wear it correctly.”

“make me.”

he tried. he really did. jay mentally apologizes to your father before turning to you with an angry expression. “wear the fucking seat belt correctly or i will make you– and i promise you will not like it.”

you bite back the growing smirk and continue to stare at him. you did it.

jay gives himself three seconds before turning his body towards you, he reaches over and grabs the top part and pulls it over your body and tugging it tightly. you muffle your laugh, which was your last mistake. he grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him.

“keep acting like a god damn brat.” he spits. “keep it up.”

you don’t respond to him as you were trying your hardest to calm your pounding heart and ignoring the ever growing need in your core.

“i’ve had it up to hear with your shitty attitude all week– you pushed it today and it will not go unnoticed.” he continues, pulling your face closer to his spot in the driver's seat. “keep up this behavior and i’ll show you exactly what happens to spoiled fucking brats like you. do you understand me?”

you really fucking did it. you pushed stone cold jay park to his limits and it made your cunt ache deliciously. jay catches the way your thighs rub together not so subtly, and it pisses him off.

“you wanted this reaction, right?” he utters in a low voice. “you did all of this just to get a fucking reaction out of me, huh? answer me, brat.”

you try your hardest to nod with the tight grip he holds on your jaw.

“you got it, does that make you happy?”

you don’t hesitate before nodding again.

“yeah? make that pathetic cunt of yours drip?”

you don’t get a chance to respond when the car behind yours starts to honk. jay groans and lets go of you, returning his attention back to the road. you remain still, somewhat in shock with his choice of words.

“fuck it.” he grunts out before suddenly turning the wheel sharply and slamming on the accelerator. jay quickly pulls into an exit lane next to you and speeds off.

“i thought there wasn’t another route.” you mutter, holding the side of the door tightly.

“keep that fucking mouth shut.”

oh, you were in for it.

before you could even process it, you were getting yanked inside the house by your wrist, loads of shopping bags forgotten in the car.

your heels clack against the marble floors as jay pulls you through the house, though he was tempted to fuck you against the front door. he stops you once you both reach the living room.

“name a color.”

“what?” you reply, visibly confused. why was he suddenly talking about colors?

jay scoffs, “just give me a color.”

you think for a moment before responding with purple.

“that’s your safeword tonight– do not forget it.”

oh. oh. you fucked up. jay lets out a pleased hum before spinning you around and bending you over the back of your family couch. your eyes widen and you grab onto the cushions, turning your head to look at him as he stands behind you.

“what are yo-” you were cut up by your own yelp when jay lifts your skirt and lands a harsh slap to your ass.

“didn’t i say to keep that mouth shut?” he spits. “you speak when i tell you to.”

“i’m s-” another smack.

“you can’t be this stupid.” jay rubs his hand against your bare ass, his fingers sliding under the thin lace of your panties teasingly. he lets out a mocking chuckle when his fingers graze over the wetness oozing out of your cunt. “getting a rise out of me really does get you wet. tell me what your goal was.”

when you don’t respond, jay simply lays another smack on your skin, causing you to jolt on top of the couch.

“you really are a spoiled brat. i said, tell me what you wanted the most out of today.”

“just… just wanted you.” you mumble, which was the wrong answer because jay smacks your ass again. the skin started to burn as well as your knees from being bent over the uncomfortable couch for this long.

“what was that?” his tone is more demanding than taunting now. you take a deep breath, any shame or embarrassment you had disappeared with each smack to your ass.

“w-wanted to piss you off,” you shakily let out. “wanted you to fuck me, jay.”

jay smirks from behind you, “wanted me to fuck you?”

you nod your head and let out a yes that came out more like a whimper than anything.

“do you think you deserve to get fucked? or even cum?” he continues to ask. “you were so bad today, you know?”

“i-i know. i’m sorry.” you really did sound so pathetic. never in your life did you think you would be begging a man to fuck you when he hasnt even touched you yet.

jay lifts you up to a standing position, giving you a soft smile before sending you to your knees. you almost fall against his legs but you quickly grip onto the fabric of his slacks. “show me how sorry you are, then i’ll think about letting you cum.”

you waste no time fumbling with the belt on his slacks, hands shaking as they pop open the button and yank his pants down just enough to free his hardened cock. you don’t attempt to start slow, not thinking twice before getting straight to work, with your hand wrapped around the base and your tongue dragging along his tip.

jay inhales sharply, taking a hold on your hair as you begin stuffing him in your mouth. “god– fucking eager, aren’t you?” he spits out as you bob your head on his cock, his hand assisting your head.

“shit, baby.” jay can’t hold back from thrusting his hips, the sigh beneath him only makes him ache. the tip of his dick knocking against your throat with each small thrust. “you– fuck… you suck cock like a slut. you want it that bad, huh?”

he knows he won't be able to last any longer like this, not with the way your pretty eyes glance up at him while your mouth grips onto his cock, or the way drool spills out of your mouth because he’s almost too big for your mouth.

a particularly harsh thrust into your mouth has you almost stumbling over, both your hands grab onto jays thighs to stabilize yourself. jay uses this to thrust a few more times before pulling out, leaving you breathless and gasping. he tilts your head up at him, taking his thumb and wiping the drool from the corner of your mouth and shoving it in your mouth.

he laughs at the way your lips immediately close around his thumb, “such a good girl– so well behaved now. what happened to the bratty little girl from earlier?” his thumb explores your mouth, pushing down on your tongue as he continues to jeer. “all it took was a cock in your mouth to put you in your place? to get that annoying mouth of yours to shut up and behave?”

you stare up at him with eager eyes, you only nod at his taunts. jay finds your actions endearing, and if it weren’t for the situation, he would be doing everything and anything to make you cum immediately.

“get up.”

with shaky legs you follow his instructions, standing up straight. one look from jay has you turning around and bending over the couch again, waiting for his next move. your underwear sticks to you uncomfortably under your skirt, and you only yearn for jay to touch you again.

“seems like you can follow instructions after all– even without me saying anything.” jay lifts your skirt and rubs your ass, which was still red from him spanking you. he wraps his finger around the band of your panties before pulling them down and letting them fall to your ankles.

he almost groans at the sight, almost hoping you’d be an insufferable brat in the future if it meant he could have you bent over the couch in the middle of your living room like this everyday. jay grips your hips, holding you still as he teases your cunt with the tip of his cock, running it up and down your soaked lips.

“jay– please.” your bodyguard only shushes you as he pushes inside of you, stretching you out slowly. he continues thrusting in and out at a painfully slow pace, making sure you can feel him with every stroke.

jay makes sure you know this isn’t for you. everytime you whine and plead him to go faster or slower, he reminds you who's in charge.

you’re choking back moans, practically squealing into the couch cushions as jay slams into you from behind, “you don’t get to make demands here… fuck! you take what i give you.”

any chance you can feel yourself about to cum, jays ripping his cock away from you– degrading you and sending you taunts as you beg for more. he tightens his hand in your hair, tugging with each harsh thrust he delivers. it’s almost too much for you, your body already weak from his brutal pace and grip and now with each orgasm being taken away.

“p-please.. wanna cum.” you mewl out pathetically, in which jay responds with a laugh and a tug on your hair that has you yelping.

“you wanna cum?” he grunts out. you nod your head followed by a bunch of yes’s and pleases. jay shoves you head into the cushion below you and lifts your leg onto the back on the couch, his cock now hitting deeper inside of you. “god… so pathetic. keep beggin’ because you aren’t cuming on this cock.”

his thrusts grow angrier and needier as he pushes himself towards the edge, making sure he takes any chance of coming from you. jay's chest is almost flat against yours as he pounds into you.

jay pulls out once again but this time quickly stroking himself with his hand before letting go on your lower back with a loud groan, making sure you know in more than one way that he got to cum and you didn’t. his release is hot against your skin, a reminder that your actions had consequences. jay continues to milk himself, his cum dripping on your bunched up skirt and your bare ass.

you tremble against the couch, whimpering. “please.. please let me cum. ill- ill be so good, please jay.”

“fuuck– you wanna cum that bad?” he responds, his orgasm still evident in his voice.

“yes… yes, please.”

“then fuck yourself.”

you turn around, gripping the couch from behind. “what?”

jay has already pulled his slacks up, zipping and buttoning them shut before speaking again, “i said fuck yourself if you want to cum. right here– right now. do it then maybe i’ll keep that in mind next time to piss me off.”

you gulp at his words, your mind already reeling that this could happen again. “but.. want you to do it.”

“you want me to do it?” he coos, chuckling when you nod your head shamelessly. “your little pouty lips won't get you anywhere with me, doll. i know you can do it yourself– and i know damn well you think of me when you fuck yourself late at night like a whore in heat.”

he puts his hands on both sides of you as you lean against the backside of the couch, you could feel his come drip off your ass and down your legs. shakily, you reach a hand between your thighs and jay follows with his eyes. “see how easy it is to listen?”

you pinch and rub at your clit, letting out small gasps and whimpers as you desperately try to get yourself to cum. jay lifts your skirt and bunches it at your hips, gripping tightly as he watches you grind against your own hand.

“i thought you wanted to cum? i know you can do better than that.” you felt humiliated in this position, more embarrassed than when you were begging for him earlier. you dip your fingers inside your cunt, curling and attempting to press against your sweet spot.

your body was hot with need, and with jay’s eyes watching your every move as you continued your pathetic demonstrations. he seems fed up with your attempts to make yourself cum because he's quickly replacing your hand with his own and gripping your face with his other.

“too dumb to do it yourself? is that it?” he spits out as he curls his fingers inside of you, ripping a moan from your throat. “are you only good for acting like a spoiled fucking brat? you really can’t do shit by yourself?”

his grip on your face tightens as he forces you to look at him as he thrust his fingers in and out of you with his palm flat against your clit. your body arches into his touch, hips twitching with every movement of his fingers.

“j-jay… fuck–” you groan loudly. it wasn’t his cock, but god was he great with his hands. his long fingers thrusting up against the spot you need it to hit the most.

“you look so pathetic like this, you know? needing to be fucked straight in order for you to act right– like a slut.” he continues, his voice as rough as his hands. “is that what you are? a slut? did daddy need to just hire someone to fuck you like this for you to behave like a good girl?”

you must be nodding your head pathetically because jay only lets out a mocking laugh.

“as long as you get to cum right?”

“yes– yes, god, please i’m so close!” you beg, slightly muffled from the grip jay holds on your cheeks.

it only takes a few more thrusts and curls from jays fingers to have your body shaking and your cunt clenching tightly before letting go completely. long, strained whines leave your mouth as you ride out your orgasm. you felt almost disappointed, you were almost shocked you came at all considering how many times you had the chance ripped away from you, but you knew better than to voice that outloud.

jay slowly pulls his fingers from your pulsing hole, bringing his fingers up to show you. his grip loosens on your face and he brushes your hair back softly before pushing your cum coated fingers into your mouth.

“you have a dinner to attend in place of your parents in an hour,” he starts, “if you act right then maybe we can talk about your reward, okay?”

you nod at him, mouth closed around his fingers as you tasted yourself on him.

“good girl.”

#enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction #jay x reader #jongseong x reader #jay smut #enha smut #enhypen scenarios #jongseong smut #jay imagines #jongseong imagines #kpop smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #i wrote this while ovulating im sorry if it fucking SUCKS LOL

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