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drippingghoneyy · 2 days ago

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No Touching - Vander x Fem!Reader

Summary: You worked at the bar, alongside Vander, for a few years now. Everyone knew the silent agreement that anyone who dared to get too close to you, answered to Vander. One man got a little brave, so Vander makes the rules clear.

Genre/ Pairing: Smut, Friends-to-lovers, Vander x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: MDNI!, SMUT 18+, Smoking/Drinking, Crying, BigDick!Vander, tension, teasing, dom/sub dynamics, pet names, piv, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, praise kink, overstimulation, creampie, oral sex ( f receiving),... (lmk if I missed any!)

Word Count: 9.2k.

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write about more people! So give me suggestions!

Reblog and like!! I read every comment, they make my whole day!

If you find any spelling errors, no you didn't. Grammarly don’t fail me now 🙂 If you don't like nsfw content, please don't read it!

The neon lights outside the bar flickered erratically, casting a sickly glow on the sidewalk. Inside, the air had the mingled scents of cheap whiskey, sweat, and the faint hint of burnt popcorn.

It was a Friday night, and the usual mix of locals and travelers packed the place, the chatter and laughter bouncing off the sticky wooden floors and stained walls. You glanced at the clock. It was almost closing time, and the anticipation of the weekend buzzed through the room like an electrical current.

You wove through the crowd, tray balanced precariously on one hand, delivering drinks with the ease of a seasoned dancer. The rhythm of the music pulsed in your veins, a silent metronome to the chaotic dance of your shift. The regulars greeted you with knowing smiles, and the newcomers with hopeful glances, trying to catch your eye. It was a game you played, flirting without meaning it, serving with a touch of charm that kept the tips flowing.

"Coming right up, sweetie," you called out to a customer, placing a frosty mug of beer in front of him with a flourish. The foam bubbled over the rim and he laughed, catching the overflow with his mouth. You winked in response, then spun away to grab the next round from Vander. He nodded in approval, a half-smile playing on his lips as he poured drinks with a practiced hand.

The children, the ones you had practically raised alongside the patrons, had already retreated to the back, their giggles and whispers echoing through the bar like a ghostly chorus. They knew the routine—once the sun dipped below the horizon on a Friday night, they had to make themselves scarce. They had their own world of tricks and games to navigate, leaving you and Vander to handle the adult one.

Vander's eyes met yours over the sea of heads, and you could feel the weight of his gaze even amidst the cacophony. His expression was a silent question, checking in to make sure you were okay. You nodded, a quick reassurance that you had everything under control, before diving back into the fray. The music grew louder, the laughter more raucous, and the lights dimmer as the night progressed. The energy was palpable, a heady mix of excitement and anticipation that fueled your every movement.

You loved weekend nights like this. The bar was alive with the throb of bass and the clink of glasses, the air thick with the promise of stories waiting to be told. Each person you served had a different tale etched into their features, their eyes telling silent narratives of triumphs and heartaches. You moved among them like a social butterfly, placing a gentle hand on a shoulder here, sharing a knowing smile there. Your touch was light, a whisper of comfort in the chaos.

But as the clock ticked closer to midnight, the atmosphere grew more volatile. A man, three drinks too many, began to leer at you, his gaze lingering on your curves in a way that made your skin crawl. He called you "sweetheart," and "babe," his voice slurred and too loud in your ear. You tried to ignore him, but his hand found your waist, his grip tightening as he leaned closer, his breath hot and unwelcome against your neck. Your smile faltered for a fraction of a second, and you felt a flicker of fear in your belly.

You searched the room for Vander, hoping he would notice, but he was busy with a rowdy group at the other end of the bar. The man's hand traveled higher, and you swallowed a gasp. But before you could react, a firm grip clamped down on his wrist, and you felt a jolt of relief as Vander's voice boomed over the din, "You don't wanna do that, buddy."

The man looked up, his eyes glazed and surprised, but the grip didn't loosen. Vander's smile had turned to a snarl, and you knew from experience that was the only warning he'd give.

You stepped away, heart racing, watching as Vander dragged the man to his feet and out of the bar, the crowd parting like the Red Sea for Moses. The music didn't stop, but the volume seemed to drop as the patrons' eyes followed the scene unfolding before them. You could hear the thud of fists and the grunt of pain outside, the sound of the man being taught a very clear lesson.

This wasn't the first time someone had overstepped, but it was the first time in a while. Usually, the regulars knew better than to lay a hand on you. You had an invisible barrier around you, a respect that had grown from years of serving drinks and smiles without ever leading anyone on.

They knew you were off-limits, even if they didn't know the full story. Vander had made sure of that, his protective aura as much a part of the bar's furniture as the stools and the pool table.

A few new faces would show up every week, not yet privy to the unspoken rule, and they'd try their luck. They'd leer, whisper sweet nothings, and maybe attempt to slip an extra dollar into your apron. But as soon as Vander caught wind of it, they'd be met with a glare that could cut through steel. It was a dance of dominance, a silent communication that sent the message loud and clear: don't touch what isn't yours. And when the music was too loud, or the whiskey too smooth, someone would forget the rules.

The man's hand had been like a brand on your skin, leaving you feeling dirty and exposed. You shivered, despite the warmth of the bar, and took a deep breath to steady your nerves. You could still hear the sounds of the scuffle outside, the thuds and grunts punctuating the night. The crowd had grown hushed, the tension in the air thick enough to slice with a knife. The music played on, but it felt like the bass was thumping in your chest now, a rhythm of fear and adrenaline.

Vander reappeared in the doorway, his knuckles red and raw, a smear of blood on his cheek. The man lay outside, a crumpled mess of pride and regret. The crowd, having witnessed the spectacle, returned to their drinks, murmuring among themselves but keeping a safe distance. They all knew the score—you weren't just another pretty face behind the bar; you were part of the fabric of this place, a sacred piece of its soul, and Vander was its fiercest protector.

The whispers grew louder as Vander approached, a silent wave of respect and fear rippling through the patrons. He'd sent more than one man packing with a bruised ego and a few bruised ribs. It was his way of reminding everyone of the unspoken rule—hands off. His eyes scanned the room, searching for any signs of dissent or discomfort, before finally landing on you. The fury in them softened as he saw the tremble in your hand, the way you gripped the edge of the bar like it was a lifeline.

You had become a local legend of sorts, the enigmatic woman behind the counter who served drinks with a smile but had a line no one dared to cross. It wasn't just Vander's protective nature that kept the peace; it was the aura that clung to you, a mix of sweetness and steel that everyone sensed. You were more than just the bar's employee; you were its heart, the reason some came back night after night. You were the dream they chased, the memory they clung to, the whiskey-soaked mirage that kept them coming back for more.

But tonight had been a close call, the man's touch a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the bar. You took a shaky breath, trying to shake off the feeling of his hand on your skin. Vander stepped closer, his bulk eclipsing the rest of the room. His hand reached out, not to touch you but to offer support, a gentle gesture that spoke louder than words. You took it, the warmth of his calloused skin grounding you.

"You okay?" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the thump of the music.

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Thanks, Vander."

He nodded back, his eyes dark with anger as the crowd had returned to their conversations, the incident already forgotten, but the memory lingered in the air like the smell of spilled beer. Vander took your tray and nodded towards the back. "Take five. You've earned it."

You slipped through the kitchen, the clank of dishes and the sizzle of grease a stark contrast to the thumping bass outside. The children peeked out from their hiding spot, their wide eyes reflecting a mix of fear and awe. They knew the score, too. They'd seen it play out before, the silent standoffs and the not-so-silent brawls.

But it was the way Vander looked at you afterward that always sent shivers down their spines. It was a look that said, "You're safe. You're mine." And in that moment, you weren't just the bartender; you were the queen of the night, and he was your knight in faded denim armor.

You took a deep breath, the cool air washing over you like a balm. The scent of the kitchen—spicy and greasy—was a welcome respite from the suffocating tension of the bar. You leaned against the wall, feeling the roughness of the peeling paint against your skin. It was a reminder of reality, a grounding force amidst the chaos. You knew the look Vander gave you was one of concern, but it was tinged with something else—possession, maybe. You weren't just the bar's employee; you were a part of its soul, a piece of its very essence, and he was its fiercest protector.

You'd only been here a few years, but in that time, he'd made it clear that your safety was paramount. He'd thrown men out for less, men who'd been regulars for longer than you'd been old enough to drink. You knew it was because of what you served—not just the whiskey and beer, but the dreams and the comfort, the fleeting moments of companionship that made the hard days bearable. The touch of the man's hand was a violation, a breach of the unspoken contract between bartender and patron.

Straightening your apron and plastering a smile back on your face, you stepped out of the kitchen, the music swelling around you once more. You didn't look at the spot where the man had been, didn't acknowledge the hushed whispers of the patrons. Instead, you made your way back to the bar, your hand brushing against Vander's as you passed. It was a silent thank you, a promise of something unspoken. You knew you could never repay the countless times he'd stepped in to keep you safe, but the touch was all you had to offer in that moment.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drink orders and laughter, the adrenaline from earlier slowly draining away. But the memory of Vander's touch lingered, a gentle reminder that you weren't alone. His eyes never left you for long, and every time you felt the weight of his gaze, you knew he was watching over you, making sure the invisible barrier remained intact. It was a luxury, that safety, one you hadn't had before you'd stumbled into this job, into his life.

And as the last of the patrons stumbled out into the night, the bar echoing with their drunken goodbyes, you couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude for the towering presence that was as much a fixture of the place as the sticky floorboards.

You'd only been here a few years, but it felt like a lifetime. The bar had become your second home, the regulars your extended family, and Vander, well, he was more than just a co-worker. He was your rock, your shield, the person who had taught you to stand tall and never take crap from anyone.

You knew he had his own demons, his own reasons for being so protective, but you never asked. You didn't need to; his actions spoke louder than any words could. And as the final chords of the jukebox played out, the room empty but for you two, the silence was filled with the unspoken promise of camaraderie and protection.

The children had long ago retreated to their beds, the whispers and giggles replaced by the soft snores of the sleeping. Vander locked the door with a finality that was almost comforting, the heavy thud echoing through the room.

The neon lights outside cast a soft glow through the grimy windows, painting the bar in a palette of pinks and blues. You took a moment to appreciate the quiet, the hum of the fridge, and the ticking of the clock, the only sounds breaking the silence.

You wiped your hands on your apron, the fabric sticking slightly to your palms. The motion was automatic, a ritual performed countless times over the years. But tonight, it felt different—a declaration of strength, a symbol that you were ready to face whatever the night had in store.

You walked over to Vander, the floorboards creaking under your boots. His eyes searched yours, the concern in them unmistakable. Most people would have shrunk away from such a gaze, but in that moment, you felt an odd comfort in his fierce protection.

You looked up at him, your heart racing from the adrenaline of the evening. He towered over you, his face a mask of hardened steel. Yet, when he looked at you, there was a softness that only you saw. You leaned in, licking the pad of your thumb before gently raising it to the smear of blood on his cheek. Your hand hovered there for a brief second, a silent question in the air. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and you swiped the blood away with the tender care of an artist cleaning a brush.

The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. You stepped back, the moment lingering, and then turned away to start wiping down the tables. The bar was a mess of spilled drinks and discarded peanut shells, but you tackled the task with renewed vigor, the need to keep moving a balm to your shaking nerves. Each swipe of the cloth was a declaration of normalcy, a silent protest against the ugliness of the world outside the bar's walls.

As you worked, you felt Vander's eyes on you, his presence a comforting warmth at your back. He didn't speak, but his silence was a conversation of its own, a wordless reassurance that he'd always be there, that you were safe. The tension slowly drained from your body as you fell into the rhythm of the task, the sound of the cloth swiping against the wood a soothing lullaby in the quiet after the storm.

When you had finished, the bar gleaming under the low lights, you turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the concern in the lines around his eyes. He took a step towards you, closing the gap between you. You didn't flinch, didn't pull away. Instead, you took a deep breath and stepped closer, the air around you crackling with the energy of a thousand unspoken words.

His hand reached up, mirroring your earlier gesture, but instead of blood, he found your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the roughness of his skin. It was as if he was memorizing every contour of your face, committing it to memory in case the night ever came when he couldn't be there to protect it. You leaned into his hand, the warmth of his touch spreading through you like a warm embrace.

"I'm sorry, darlin'. I should've kept a closer eye on you," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate within your very bones. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of distress, of fear. But all he found was a steely determination that made him proud.

You gave a small shake of your head, reaching up to cover his hand with yours. "It's okay, Vander. It's not your fault," you assured him, your voice steady despite the tremor you couldn't quite hide. "But, I appreciate you stepping in."

He nodded, the lines around his eyes deepening as he searched your face for any lingering traces of fear. "It's always gonna be my job to keep you safe," he said firmly, his voice a warm rumble that seemed to fill the space between you. "No one lays a hand on you unless you want them to."

There was a fierce possessiveness in his tone, a promise that sent a shiver down your spine. It was the kind of protectiveness that could be suffocating in the wrong hands, but with Vander, it was comforting. He had never crossed the line, never stepped too far, and you knew he never would. His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt or discomfort, and when he found none, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was a gesture that was as surprising as it was tender, a gentle reassurance that you weren't just another body in the bar. You felt a warmth spread through you, a sense of belonging that was as potent as the whiskey you served. It was in moments like these that you realized just how much he cared, how deeply the bonds between you had grown over the years.

The silence stretched out, filled with the promise of more than just friendship. You knew it was there, the tension that had been building between you, a current that hummed just below the surface of every interaction. But you also knew that now wasn't the time to explore it. There were still dishes to wash, floors to mop, and a bar to close down. So, you stepped back, breaking the spell, and turned to grab the cleaning supplies.

"I'm fine, Vander," you assured him, your voice strong despite the tremble in your hands. "It's part of the job, I guess." You tried to laugh it off, but the sound was hollow, even to your own ears.

Vander's expression softened, his hand sliding down to yours, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of your hand. "It's never fine when someone puts their hands on you without permission," he said, his voice low and intense. "I shouldn't have let that happen."

He looked down at the floor, his jaw clenched, as if he was holding back a tide of anger. Then he looked up at you, his eyes searching your face for any trace of fear or upset. "I'm sorry," he murmured, the words heavy with regret. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

The sincerity in his voice was palpable, and you felt your heart swell with affection for this gruff, protective man who had become so much more than just your boss. "It's okay," you repeated, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "But thank you for looking out for me."

Vander nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He didn't need to say it; you could see it written all over his face—his regret, his concern, his promise to keep you safe. It was a silent vow, a bond forged in the fire of the bar's chaos, a pact that went beyond just employer and employee.

He stepped closer, his hand moving from your cheek to cradle your jaw, his thumb resting gently against your chin. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of fear, any hint of doubt. "You're more than okay," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the lingering buzz of the jukebox. "You're amazing."

The words hung in the air, thick with meaning, and you felt your cheeks flush. You knew he didn't dole out compliments lightly, and the fact that he was saying this now, in the aftermath of the incident, meant the world to you.

The air grew heavy with unspoken emotions, the bar's lights flickering in the quiet. For a moment, you just stood there, his hand on your face, your eyes locked on his. It was as if the world outside had ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the two of you, the beat of your hearts in sync with the fading music.

Vander's touch was firm but gentle, a contradiction that perfectly encapsulated his nature. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as his eyes searched yours. In that moment, you could feel the weight of his dominance, the power of his protective instincts that had just been on full display. Yet, there was something soft there too, a tenderness that you hadn't noticed before, or maybe you had just never allowed yourself to acknowledge it.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin. "I don't ever want to see another man's hands on you like that," he murmured, the words a low, steady rumble. "You're mine to keep safe, and I won't let anyone take that from me."

You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his primal urge to claim and protect and his respect for your boundaries. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, the touch so light it was almost a question. You didn't pull away, your breath hitching at the intensity of his gaze. It was as if he was asking permission, giving you the power to decide the next move.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice a whisper in the quiet night. "But if you want more than just my protection... if you want me to touch you, to kiss you, to make sure that no one ever makes you feel that way again..." He trailed off, leaving the offer hanging in the air.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you considered his words. It was a bold move, one that could change everything. You knew what he was asking, what he was offering. And deep down, you knew you didn't just want it; you craved it. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his touch, the promise of his protection. It was tempting beyond belief.

You took a deep breath, your hand rising to cover his. "If that's what you want, Vander," you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. "If you're sure."

His eyes searched yours, the softness in them belying the steel in his spine. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, they held the weight of a thousand promises. "I am," he murmured, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "But only if you're okay with it."

The air grew thick with anticipation as you stared at him, the silence stretching out like a tightrope. You felt the heat of his hand, the warmth of his body so close to yours. The bar, the customers, the world outside—it all faded away until there was only the two of you, the thump of your hearts the only sound in the quiet.

"I am," you murmured back, your voice a soft echo of his.

Vander's eyes flared with something that could've been relief or desire—or both. His hand tightened on your face, and he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was both gentle and fierce. It was a kiss that spoke of protection and passion, of the bond that had grown between you over the years. A silent declaration that you were his to cherish, his to protect.

You melted into him, your hands sliding around his waist to pull him closer. The scent of whiskey and sweat clung to him, a heady perfume that seemed to intoxicate you. His other hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, holding you in place as if he never wanted to let you go. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if he was trying to erase the memory of the man's touch with his own.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of regret or doubt. But all he found was the same fire that burned in his own chest. "I never want to see another man's hands on you," he murmured again, the words a solemn vow. "I want to be the only one to make you feel this way."

You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps. "Then it's a good thing I don't plan on letting anyone else touch me," you said, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. It was a bold statement, one that sent a thrill through you. But with Vander, it felt right.

He took a step back, his hands lingering on your hips. "But if you ever need me, if anyone ever tries to take what's not theirs..." He let the threat hang in the air, his eyes burning with a possessiveness that sent a thrill down your spine. "They'll answer to me."

You nodded, understanding the unspoken promise in his words. Vander was a man of his own set of rules, and protecting you was at the top of that list. It was a comfort, knowing that you had someone like him in your corner. But there was something else there too, a yearning that went beyond just keeping you safe. His thumb traced small circles on your lower back, a silent question.

You took a deep breath, looking up into his eyes. "I don't want anyone else's hands on me, Vander," you whispered, your voice shaking slightly. "Only yours."

His eyes searched yours, looking for any trace of doubt or fear. But what he saw was a spark of something else, something that mirrored the desire burning in his own chest. His hand slid up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer. The kiss was slow and deliberate, a promise of things to come. His dominance was unmistakable, but it was tempered with a gentleness that made your heart ache.

He broke away, his eyes never leaving yours. "If we do this," he said, his voice low and gruff, "it's not just because of what happened tonight. It's because I want you, because I've wanted you for a long time, sweetheart "

You nodded, your heart racing. "I know," you murmured. "And I want you too."

Vander's expression softened at your words, the fiery protectiveness in his gaze morphing into something softer, yet equally intense. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Are you sure?" he whispered, his hand sliding up your spine to rest at the base of your neck. "We don't have to do anything tonight. Not after...this."

You turned to face him fully, looking up into his eyes. "I'm sure," you said firmly. "I want this. I want you."

He searched your face for a moment longer before giving a single nod, as if to say, 'If you're sure.' His hand tightened around your neck, the grip firm but gentle, sending a thrill through you. It was a silent assertion of his dominance, a promise that he would take care of you, that you were his. And for the first time in a long time, you didn't just feel safe; you felt desired, wanted.

He leaned in again, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was everything you'd ever dreamed of. It was as if the bar and all its troubles had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in the quiet, dimly lit room. His hand slid down to your waist, his other arm wrapping around you to pull you closer, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the coldness of the metal barstools. You melted into him, feeling the hard planes of his chest against your soft curves.

The kiss grew more urgent, his hand sliding down to cup your bottom, lifting you onto the bar. You gasped into his mouth, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His grip was firm, almost bruising, but it only served to make you feel more alive. You knew he was holding back, that he could crush you with his strength, but he never would. It was part of the dance, the push and pull that existed between the two of you, a silent conversation that had been building for months.

"Vander," you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

He pulled back, his eyes searching yours. "You don't have to do this," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Not after tonight. Not if you don't want to."

But you did want to. You wanted him to erase the feel of that man's hands with his own, to replace the fear with something else entirely. "I want this," you assured him, your voice strong. "I want you."

His gaze searched yours, all he found was the same burning need that reflected his own. He leaned in again, his kiss deepening, his hands sliding under your shirt to trace the lines of your back. You arched into him, the softness of your body against his hardness. The bar was forgotten, the mess of the night left behind. There was only the two of you, the heat of your bodies melding together.

As the kiss grew more passionate, Vander's hands grew more insistent, his touch sure and confident. He knew exactly how to make you melt, how to make you feel like you were the only woman in the world. You could feel the tension in him, the restraint he was fighting to maintain. But tonight, you didn't want him to hold back. You wanted all of him—his strength, his protection, his passion.

"Please," you breathed against his lips, the word a plea.

He groaned, his hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over the hardened peak of your nipple. You gasped, the sensation shooting straight to your core. He took the sound as an invitation, his mouth moving from your lips to kiss along your jaw, his teeth grazing your earlobe. The bar was forgotten, the patrons a distant memory. There were only the two of you, the air charged with the electricity of a promise made and a need that had gone unspoken for too long.

He pulled back, his eyes searching yours. "If you need me to stop, if it's too much, just say the word," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to shake the very foundation of the bar.

You looked into his eyes, the softness there almost overwhelming. "I don't," you whispered, your voice a plea. "I need this, please…"

Vander nodded, his expression a mix of relief and desire. He kissed you again, his hand sliding down to the button of your jeans.

"Vander," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation. His touch was firm but gentle, a stark contrast to the iron-willed man who had just defended your honor so fiercely. His fingers danced over your skin, unbuttoning and unzipping with a precision that spoke of his experience and control.

He pulled back, his eyes searching yours. "You're sure?, last chance.." he asked one last time, his voice a low growl of need.

"Yes," you panted, your eyes never leaving his. "I'm sure."

With a final nod, he lifted you off the bar, his arms around your waist. He carried you to the back room, the sanctity of your shared space a stark contrast to the chaos of the bar. The room was small and cramped, filled with boxes of liquor and cleaning supplies, with a small cushioned chair, but in that moment, it was the most romantic place you could imagine. He set you down gently, his hands never leaving your body.

His kisses grew more urgent, his teeth nipping at your lower lip before he soothed the sting with his tongue. You moaned into his mouth, your hands fisting in his shirt as he unbuttoned it, revealing the hard planes of his chest. His skin was warm and rough, a stark contrast to the softness of yours.

You reached up to touch him, your hand shaking slightly. His muscles rippled under your fingertips, and you felt a thrill of power, knowing that this man, so strong and so fiercely protective, was yours to explore.

Vander's eyes never left yours as he carefully unbuttoned your shirt, his touch a gentle caress that belied the iron in his grip. He took his time, savoring the moment, his calloused fingers brushing against the softness of your skin. With each button released, you felt the weight of the garment slip away, baring more of yourself to him.

As he parted the fabric, his eyes trailed down your body, his gaze heated. But there was something else there too, a softness that made your heart race even faster. He was taking his time, treating you like something precious, something to be handled with care.

When the shirt was open, he took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. His eyes roamed over the curves of your breasts, the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed in anticipation. He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin, and kissed the hollow of your neck, making you shiver.

His hands moved to your shoulders, sliding the shirt down your arms. It fell to the floor with a soft whisper, leaving you in just your bra. He reached behind you, his movements precise and practiced, and unhooked the clasp. The fabric fell away, revealing your breasts.

The fabric pooled around your waist, leaving your breasts bare to his gaze. His eyes darkened with hunger, his pupils dilating as he took in the sight of you.

But it wasn't just about control—there was something tender there, too. A caring that was as palpable as the desire. He leaned in, his hot breath ghosting over your skin as he took one peak into his mouth, the scrape of his teeth against your sensitive flesh sending shockwaves through your body.

His hands slid down to your hips, his thumbs digging in just enough to keep you in place. You could feel the tension in him, the need to claim you, to possess you utterly. But he held back, his movements a gentle dance of power and restraint.

As his mouth moved to your other breast, his hand slid down to your stomach, the calloused pads of his fingers tracing the soft curves. You trembled under his touch, the combination of his gentle care and the promise of his dominance leaving you breathless. His hand moved lower, slipping under the waistband of your open jeans to cup your sex. His eyes never left yours, watching for any sign of hesitation, any hint that you weren't ready. But all he saw was a desperate need, a reflection of his own.

Vander's dominance didn't just come from his physical strength or the way he wielded it. It was in his eyes, in the way he held you, in the possessive tilt of his head as he kissed you. His hand on your hip was firm, guiding you, but the way he touched your cheek was feather-light, a stark contrast that made your skin tingle with anticipation. He was a man who knew what he wanted, but he was also a man who knew how to ask for it without words.

His hand slid down your jeans, his grip tightening as he tugged them down your hips. He was urgent, but his movements were deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment. His eyes never left yours, as if he was looking for permission with every touch, ensuring you were as lost in the moment as he was. The denim hit the floor with a muffled thud, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

He stepped closer, his thigh pressing against yours, the heat of his body making you ache. His hand slid up the inside of your thigh, his touch gentle yet insistent. You could feel his restraint, the way his muscles coiled tightly as he held back, waiting for your consent. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of fear or doubt, but all he saw was the same fiery need that burned within him.

He stepped closer, his leg pressing between yours, the hardness of his thigh against your center making you gasp. His hand slid around to cup your backside, his fingers digging in just enough to make you aware of his power. But the way his other hand caressed your cheek, the way his thumb stroked your lower lip, was anything but rough. It was as if he was whispering sweet nothings with his fingertips, promising to cherish every inch of you.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes devouring you as if you were the only thing in the world. "So soft, so sweet."

Vander's voice was a low rumble in the quiet of the room, the words sending a shiver down your spine. His hand traveled up to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin just under your ear. His other hand remained on your hip, guiding you, controlling your movements with a gentle but firm touch. It was a dance of dominance and submission, one that you found yourself eagerly following.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," he promised, his voice a dark whisper, as his touch grew more insistent, his hand sliding between your legs to cup you fully. You were wet, soaking the fabric of your panties, and the feel of his palm against you was almost too much. His fingers slid under the elastic, his rough touch a stark contrast to the softness of your skin. You whimpered, your body begging for more.

He slid a finger along the edge of your panties, tracing the slickness that had gathered there. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, the words a dark praise that sent a shiver through you. His thumb circled your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you moan. "So responsive, so eager."

Vander's eyes never left yours, his gaze a mix of hunger and something softer, something that made you feel cherished. His voice was a low rumble, the kind that made your knees weak and your core clench with need. "You're mine," he murmured, the words a declaration of ownership that sent a thrill through your body. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing aside your underwear, his rough fingertips teasing the sensitive skin. His touch was firm, but not harsh, a gentle dominance that made you feel both safe and utterly claimed.

You moaned as his finger found your entrance, sliding in easily with the slickness of your arousal. He stroked you gently, his thumb playing with your clit in a rhythm that made your eyes roll back in your head. "So sweet," he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek. "So wet for me." His praises were dirty, but there was something tender about the way he said them, as if he was worshipping you, as if every part of you was sacred.

He slid another finger in, the sensation overwhelming as he curled them, pressing against that spot inside you that made your toes curl. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds that wanted to spill out, but his eyes never left yours, urging you to let go, to be as loud as you needed. "You're going to come for me," he murmured, the promise in his voice making your body tighten around his fingers. "And when you do, it's going to be because of me, because you're mine."

His hand worked you expertly, his thumb pressing harder, his fingers moving faster. You could feel yourself climbing, the tension in your body building. "Vander," you gasped, his name a plea.

He leaned in, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was as demanding as his touch. His tongue slid against yours, mimicking the motion of his fingers, driving you closer and closer to the edge. "Mine," he whispered again, his voice a dark promise.

And then you were falling, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Vander held you through it, his hand never stilling, his kiss never breaking. He whispered sweet nothings against your lips, his praises turning into words of comfort as you rode out the waves of pleasure. "So good," he murmured. "So beautiful."

When you finally came down from the high, you were breathless, your body boneless against Vander's. His hand remained between your legs, his fingers still moving gently, keeping you on the edge of another climax. He leaned in, his teeth grazing your ear as he whispered, "You're so perfect, baby." His voice was a dark velvet caress, the kind that made you shiver.

You looked up at him, your eyes glazed with desire. He smiled, a wicked curve of his lips that made your heart race. His hand slid from your thigh to the center of your chest, his thumb tracing the rapid beat of your pulse. "You had to come for me," he murmured, his voice low and deep. "I need to feel you all around me." His eyes darkened, his need clear in every line of his body. "But once isn't enough. I need to make sure you're ready for me."

He stepped back, giving you space to breathe, his eyes never leaving yours. With a gentle tug, he removed your underwear, leaving you completely bare before him. He took a moment to appreciate the sight, his gaze lingering on the softness of your belly, the curve of your hips, the slight dark thatch of hair between your thighs. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse.

Vander leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered his dirty praises, his voice a mix of rough dominance and tender adoration. "You're so wet," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. "So tight and ready for me." His hand slid over your hip, his grip firm as he turned you to face him fully. The softness of his touch was a stark contrast to the iron in his voice, his fingertips tracing patterns that made your breath hitch.

He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he spread your legs wider, his gaze dropping to the wetness between your thighs. "All mine," he said, the words a gentle demand. "I've needed to taste you, for so long..." His mouth closed over your sex, his tongue flicking over your clit in a soft, teasing motion that had you gripping the edge of the bar. His dominance was clear in every touch, every lick, but there was something soothing about the way he held you, his strong arms keeping you steady as your body trembled with need.

Vander's praises grew more insistent as he licked and sucked, his bearded cheeks brushing against your sensitive flesh. "You're going to come for me again," he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent vibrations through your core. "And then, baby, I'll make sure I fit." His fingers slid inside you, stretching you gently, preparing you for what was to come.

You felt his dominance in every stroke of his tongue, in every firm press of his fingers. But the way he held you, the way he whispered sweet nothings against your skin, made you feel cherished, adored.

Vander's tongue danced over your clit, his movements precise and practiced, as if he'd been dreaming of this moment for just as long as you had. His beard scraped against your sensitive flesh, the roughness a delicious contrast to the softness of his tongue. You could feel him savoring the taste of you, the way his eyes had searched your body just moments before. His grip on your hips tightened, keeping you in place as he explored your folds with his mouth.

He licked and sucked with a gentle fierceness that had you panting, your body arching towards him. His hand slid up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over the peak as he watched your face contort with pleasure. His eyes never left yours, the intensity in his gaze making you feel like the most important person in the world. It was as if he was worshipping you, as if every inch of your body was sacred to him.

As you approached the peak again, his tongue moving in a steady rhythm that had you teetering on the edge. "Vander," you moaned, your voice a desperate plea. His only response was to suck harder, making you see stars. He was relentless, his dominance clear in every touch, but it was the tender. He held you in a way that made you feel safe, like you could let go completely.

You shuddered, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. His name was a cry on your lips, a declaration of surrender. Vander's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched you fall apart, his tongue never stopping, drawing out every last shiver of pleasure. His grip on your hips tightened, his mouth working you through the aftershocks until your legs could no longer hold you.

He stood, his eyes never leaving yours, his face a picture of masculine beauty, a mix of desire and dominance. His hand slid up your body, his thumb brushing over your swollen clit, making you jerk in response. His touch was feather-light, yet it had the power to make you tremble with need. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "You're mine," he murmured, the words a soft demand that sent a shiver down your spine. "Every part of you."

Vander took a step back, his gaze raking over your exposed body with a hunger that made you feel like the most desired woman in the world. He reached for his own pants, unbuckling them with a swiftness that spoke of his urgency. The fabric slid down his legs, revealing the hard length of him. You watched, your eyes wide, as he freed his cock, his hand stroking it gently. The sight of him, so focused on your pleasure, made your stomach clench with need.

He stepped closer again, his cock brushing against your thigh. The chair was behind you, and without a word, he positioned you, his hands on your hips guiding you back. The cool leather met your skin, sending a shiver through you. He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered, "You're going to take me, baby. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

Vander's hands were gentle as they helped you straddle him, his own need evident in every line of his body. But there was a softness in his eyes, a tenderness that belied the iron in his grip. He was a man who knew what he wanted, but he also knew how to give, to take care of the woman who had just entrusted herself to him. He held you there for a moment, his cock pressing against your opening, his eyes never leaving yours as if asking for one final consent.

You nodded, unable to form words, your body trembling with anticipation. He positioned himself, the head of his cock nudging at your slick entrance. He pushed in slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. His dominance was a gentle coaxing, his eyes full of a question that needed no words. Are you ready? Can you take me? The question was in his touch, his gaze, his every movement.

You sank down onto him, feeling him fill you completely, his girth stretching you in a way that was slightly painful. But the pain was quickly overridden by the pleasure, the feeling of being so utterly filled and claimed. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you, setting the pace as he began to thrust up into you. His movements were slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he was watching for any sign that you weren't ready, any hint that he was being too rough. But all he saw was the desperate need reflected in your gaze, the silent plea for more.

Vander's dominance was a gentle coaxing, a whisper of power that made your body sing with every stroke. His hands slid up to your breasts, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks, his eyes never leaving yours. You leaned back, your palms flat on the chair, your body arching as he drove into you. His touch was firm but not harsh, a testament to his control, a silent promise that he would never hurt you, even in his need.

He kissed you, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his hips, his teeth nipping at your lower lip in a way that made you gasp. His movements grew more urgent, his hips slamming up into you, the chair groaning under your combined weight.

"So tight," he murmured, the words a dark praise that had your core clenching around him. "So good for me." His voice was a low growl, a declaration of possession that sent shivers down your spine. His hands were everywhere, one hand squeezing your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, the other hand sliding down to tease your clit, keeping you on the edge of ecstasy.

Vander's dominance was a gentle storm, his touch both firm and tender as he claimed you. "You're mine," he whispered, his eyes boring into yours. "Say it, darlin'. Tell me you're mine."

Your breath came in pants, his words echoing through your mind, mixing with the sensations that overwhelmed you. "Yours," you whispered, the word a declaration of submission that made your heart race. "All yours."

His grip tightened, his thrusts becoming more demanding, his praises turning into a chant that matched the beat of your pulse. "Mine, mine, mine," he murmured, his voice a dark symphony of possession and desire. His cock filled you, the feeling of fullness so intense it was almost too much to bear. But you took it, eager for more, your body moving with his, desperate to be one with him.

The room faded away, the bar outside forgotten as Vander brought you to the brink of another orgasm. His eyes never left yours, his gaze a mix of fierce need and something softer, something that made you feel cherished. "Come for me," he ordered, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Now."

And with that, the dam broke. His hand clamping over your mouth to stop you from screaming his name, your body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. He held you through it, his arms a steel band around your waist, his cock never stilling. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his dirty praises turning into gentle coos that soothed you through the aftermath.

As you came down from the high, you felt Vander's own climax building, his hips moving faster, his grip on you tightening. "I'm going to fill you, darlin'" he murmured, the words a promise that had your core clenching around him. "You're going to take all of me." His eyes were dark with lust, but there was something gentle in his gaze, something that made you feel safe, cherished even in the throes of such raw passion.

He whispered dirty, dominant praises as he thrust into you, his voice a mix of grit and velvet. "So good, so tight, so wet," he groaned, his words sent your mind spinning. His eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making you feel like you were the only person in the world. The way he took you, the way he filled you, was both a claim and a promise.

Vander's touch remained soft, even as his grip tightened, his fingers digging into your hips. He held you in place, his dominance a gentle but firm presence that made you feel safe. With each stroke, you could feel him getting closer, his breath hitching in his chest, his eyes never leaving yours. The tension built between you, the air thick with the promise of his release.

And then it came, a low groan torn from his throat as he emptied himself into you. His body tensed, his muscles coiling with the force of his orgasm, but his hands never faltered, never let you go. He held you through it, his eyes a storm of pleasure and possession. It was a moment of raw, primal connection, one that had your heart racing and your body quivering.

As he came down from the peak, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you against his chest. His heart pounded against yours, a steady rhythm that matched the aftershocks of your own climax.

His breath was hot against your neck, his lips whispering sweet nothings as he kissed the sensitive skin there. "Always," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "I'll always be here to protect you."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of comfort and excitement. Vander's dominance was a comforting blanket, wrapping you in a warmth that made you feel cherished and protected. You leaned into him, your body boneless with satisfaction. His cock was still inside you, a reminder of the claim he had made, the promise he had fulfilled.

The bar outside from earlier tonight was a distant memory. "Thank you," you whispered, the words barely audible. His only response was a gentle squeeze, a promise that he heard you, that he felt the same.

Vander pulled out of you with a groan, his eyes dark with satisfaction. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you, sprawled on the chair, your body a canvas of sweat and passion. He reached out, his thumb tracing the slickness on your thighs, the evidence of your pleasure. His eyes held a warmth that made your heart flutter.

He helped you off the chair, his arms strong around your waist as you swayed slightly, legs wobbly from the intense pleasure he had just given you.

Vander took a step back, his gaze sweeping over your body with a possessive hunger that made you feel cherished and desired. His eyes lingered on the marks his passion had left on your skin, the love bites and bruises that would fade to a sweet memory of this night.

With a gentle touch, he reached for a nearby towel, using it to clean the evidence of your shared ecstasy from your thighs. His movements were tender, his touch reverent, as if you were something precious that needed to be handled with care.

He helped you to your feet, your legs still shaky from the intensity of your release. You stepped closer to him, your bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces that had finally found their match.

He kissed you softly, hands roamed your body, his touch soothing the tender spots, his kisses leaving a trail of fire wherever he went. "Tomorrow," he murmured against your skin, "we'll do it all over again."

#artists on tumblr #arcane #vander league of legends #vander arcane #vander smut #vander x reader #vander #arcane league of legends #arcane smut #arcane vander #arcane vander smut #warwick #league of legends #drippinghoneyy

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kiefromgingerland · 1 month ago

Text

LINGER (p.1)

outlaw!lottie matthews x farmersdaughter!reader

summary: after weeks mourning the recent death of her father, y/n decides it’s time for her to take responsibility and fix the family farm her father left her. just when she’s about to give up and go home, she ends up housing—and hiding—the infamous outlaw of the west.

warning(s): not historically accurate, mentions of crime, mentions of death, mourning, angst, slow burn, secret romance, cursing, possibly ooc!lottie

a/n: this is supposed to be set around the 1890s, but if women and poc actually had rights bc like why not 🥲 also they’ll be using somewhat modern language bc idk how people in the west spoke

word count: 705

you should be at home, tucked away in bed with plenty more time left to sleep. you should at least have been rising peacefully by now, waking up to the sound of chirping birds and the rumbling of distant trains and the quiet stirring of street wagons. but no, you’re not home, and there is no exciting city ambience. where you are is slouched in a small run down saloon. you move the damp slabs of ham around with your fork and poke at the cold scrambled eggs. you finally spot the busy saloon waitress, a short woman around your age with shaggy dark hair. she has the striking hazel green eyes and arched dark brows. she had served you your eggs and ham, and offered some strong alcoholic drink, which you turned down. looking back on it, maybe you should’ve taken the offer.

“ehm, excuse me, ma’am? uh.. could i get that drink, actually?” you chuckle hesitantly. your friends back home would most definitely judge you for drinking this early in the day.

“the food that bad?” the woman asks sarcastically, with a charming smile. “coming right up.”

“no, the food’s.. great! i just got a lot on my mind.” you stutter nervously with a tight lipped smile, trying to be polite. “and thank you, ma’am.”

the woman slides the glass mug of liquor over to you from across the bar. “it’s no problem. and you don’t need to call me ‘ma’am’.” she says matter-of-fact-ly, with a raised brow. “‘name’s natalie. you can call me nat.”

“oh. thank you, nat.” you smile, offering out your hand, which she takes in a firm handshake. “y/n.”

“well? what are you here for?” natalie asks, crossing her arms and leaning on the counter.

“i’m visiting my dad’s farm.”

“hm. fun.” natalie says sarcastically.

“why do you say it like that?” you chuckle.

“why would you want to be hanging around some old man?” natalie scoffs.

“oh, uh.. i won’t be around him, actually.”

“yeah? why, where will he be?”

“uh, he’s dead.”

“oh!”

“yeah.”

“shit, sorry—“

“nah, no worries, it’s no problem. really.”

you take a long sip of beer, quieting down after the awkward encounter. nat continues cleaning the bar, serving customers. one of the guys at the bar points at a poster hung up by the door.

“what’s that about?” the man asks.

“hm? oh, yeah, the sheriff is making everyone hang up those wanted posters.” nat scoffs. “some felon on the run, i dunno what she did, but she’s a big deal apparently.”

“‘she’?” he questions.

“fuck yeah, ‘she’. women can be criminals too, y’know.”

the further you traveled through the quaint little town, you more Wanted posters you saw. a few of them were of old criminals, dating back from a few years to a few weeks old. however, you saw a lot of these new ones from the saloon, of that woman. the road began to get dirtier and the buildings started to lessen. soon enough, you ended on a dirt road with short, thin trees.

you can see a few farms in the distance, but keep on your track. after a while, you can see the house. increasing your pace a bit, you jog over. the house looks bigger now than it did when you left. you, your parents, and your siblings seemed so crowded, but now it’s looks so lonely. nobody bothered to come around after your dad died. there are still farm animals lazily stumbling around.

you take the time to lay out some food for the birds in the chicken coop, pile some hay and put out water for the horses, and toss some grains out into a pile for the goats and the pigs, all of the animals having run slim due to only having grass around.

when the sun begins to set, you decide it’s best to go inside. as you lie beneath the weight of the heavy quilts, the flickering candlelight casts warm shadows on the old wallpaper. the night is silent, except for the occasional bleat of a goat or low rumble of a cow in the yard below you. each breath hurts, your heart aching. outside, the wind picks up, howling through the trees, and in the distance, you hear the faintest sound of hooves. you begin to fall asleep, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

what you don’t know is that a dangerous woman is drawing nearer, her intentions as shadowed as the night itself, and soon, the quiet of your father’s cabin will be disrupted.

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jobean12-blog · 2 years ago

Text

The Road to Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 3,008

Summary: You work at the local bar and things are usally pretty boring and quiet until you get a new customer who appears to be a grump but when it comes to you it’s a whole different story...

Author’s Note: So Pedro’s new Esquire shoot nearly killed me but also inspired me and thanks to my lovely friends @beccablogsthings @laineyreads @justkinsey for sharing their amazing brains and thoughts I did my first AU with Joel. And thank you to my sweet Ali @flordeamatista for sharing some extra goodies with me to help! This one photo belong just screamed Biker AU, between the tight pants and leather jacket...I mean🥵Anyway, enough of my rambling! Thank you all so much for reading! Much lovel always! ❤️❤️❤️ Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweets🥰

Warnings: softness and fluff, lots of flirting and protective!Joel

Thanks to Esquire for the photo below:

Joel Miller Masterlist

“Why are biker dudes always so grumpy?”

You turn to your friend Jade and it takes you a moment to realize why she made her comment. You follow her line of sight to the small group of bikers that are playing pool at the back end of the bar.

“They look like they’re having fun,” you reply.

“Not that guy,” Jade says, discreetly motioning to the one sitting on the last stool closest to the pool tables.

His legs are spread wide under the bar top, his jeans clinging to his thick thighs like a second skin and his heavy black leather boots resting on the stool’s bottom bar. The leather jacket he’s wearing is tight along his broad shoulders and worn and soft looking in all the right places.

You don’t answer her and keep your eyes on him, unabashedly letting your gaze wander down his body and back up again.

When you reach his face he’s staring back.

And he smirks.

“Ok never mind,” Jade giggles. “He smiles but apparently only at you.”

You give him a small wave and smile before turning to your friend. “What?”

“Exactly,” she answers with a grin. “Do you know him?”

“Oh she knows him,” you other friend Dan sings as he whizzes by, precariously balancing several drinks in his hands.

“Who?” you ask, still lost in your haze of lewd thoughts.

“The biker dude…the one that only smiles at you,” Jade repeats. “Dan says you know him.”

“Dan…?”

Dan runs by again. “You know…your biker boyfriend that’s been coming in every weekend for the last month. Poor Jade has been missing out on all the fun because she usually works weeknights.”

Dan’s gone again before you can add that the hot biker is not your boyfriend. Unfortunately.

“Oh,” you exclaim as you move down the bar and grab empty glasses. “That’s Joel…and he’s not a dude. That, my friends, is a man.”

“Mm you’re right,” Jade agrees, grinning harder. “And you clearly have the hots for him.”

“What?” you say again, the empty beer mugs clanking in your hands.

“She so does,” Dan says, blowing you a kiss before he starts helping a customer.

“Is it possible for you to form a coherent thought when he’s in the same room?” Jade teases.

You huff and blow a raspberry in her direction. “It’s Dan’s fault. He keeps doing fly bys!”

Both you and Jade cover your mouths to stifle your giggles and Dan looks over with his own mischievous smile.

After cleaning up the bar and collecting any stray tips you slide up next to Jade as she fills some mugs.

“I think the biker dudes,” and you laugh after saying it, “need some refills.”

“Great, that’s all you babe,” she says. “I have to see this.”

You roll your eyes and saunter over to the pool tables, making your rounds and asking who wants what. When you reach Joel he leans back on his stool, one large hand still curled around his glass of whiskey and the other now resting on his thigh.

“Hey sunshine,” he says.

“Hi Joel. Can I get you another?”

Your eyes slide to his empty glass before settling back on his face. He studies you, his eyes glittering.

“How much longer is your shift?” he asks.

“Another hour or so,” you answer, raising your brows at his seemingly random question.

“Then I’ll have another,” he says, nodding his head in thanks.

You reach for his empty glass, your fingers brushing along his rough knuckles and you suck in a breath at the sensation, your lips parted when you catch his knowing smile.

You hurry off and try to brush past Jade but she follows you all the way down the bar with Dan in tow.

“He’s still smiling,” she says with glee.

“HE IS!” Dan squeals.

“Is he?” you ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yep,” Jade replies, popping the p.

With a new glass of whiskey you walk back to Joel, trying to ignore the feel of your friends eyes on your back and their distant chatter.

“Here you go, anything else?” you ask him.

“Thanks sunshine,” he says, eyeing you over the rim of his glass as he takes a long sip.

His neck muscles flex with every swallow and you watch the chords shift as he tilts his head back, finishing it in one long gulp.

“I’ll take one more,” he winks and licks his lips.

“You got it,” you breathe out and practically run off, forgetting to take his empty glass.

After serving Joel his third drink you check on the other guys before making the rest of your rounds. Once everyone has a drink in hand you start to wipe down the bar.

“We need some music,” Jade says when she starts to help.

Dan agrees with enthusiasm and you say, “good idea. I’ll be right back.”

You walk toward the old Juke Box and start to shuffle through the songs.

Just when you think you’ve decided on a song you feel a presence behind you and turn to see your ex smiling at you.

“Jeff?”

“Hey baby,” he croons, reaching for you.

You step out of his grasp and put some distance between the two of you.

He makes a face, his expression losing it’s smile and turning hard.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his tone mocking.

“What are you doing here?” you ask him, taking a step back for every step he takes toward you.

“Came to see you,” he drawls. “Missed you.”

“Jeff,” you warn. “It’s over. It’s been over. You need to leave.”

You don’t even notice that the bar’s gone quiet and everyone is watching the scene unfold. Jade and Dan rush out from behind the bar to go to you but Joel stands from his seat and motions for them to stay put.

Jeff reaches for you again, this time wrapping his large hand around your arm and yanking you closer.

“Don’t embarrass me baby,” he growls.

“Get your hands off of me,” you hiss, trying to pull away.

“You heard her,” a gruff voice says from bedside you. “Hands off.”

You turn to see Joel standing next to you, his expression cold and hard as he stares at Jeff.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jeff asks, looking Joel up and down.

“Doesn’t matter,” Joel answers, folding his large arms across his chest. “She doesn’t want you touchin’ her. Now get your hands off her before I break ‘em.”

Jeff’s grip loosens with his surprise and you rip yourself away.

Joel eyes shift to you. “You ok darlin’?”

You nod and take a step toward Joel.

“This your new man?” Jeff snarls as he clenches his fists.

“That’s none of your business,” Joel answers for you. “Now get out.”

Without warning Jeff lunges at Joel but he’s not quick enough and before you can even figure out what happened, Jeff is laid out on the floor, holding his jaw and muttering curses. The rest of the bikers are now standing behind Joel, their expressions menacing as Joel bends down and gets into Jeff’s face.

“She doesn’t want you anymore. And when a lady tells you to get your hands off, you get your hands off…you understand me?”

Jeff just stares at Joel with hatred, his teeth gritted.

“I asked you a question,” Joel growls.

Jeff’s eyes move to the rest of the bikers and he sits up, spitting on the floor.

“Yea, I heard ya,” he grunts. “She ain’t worth it anyway.”

Jeff jumps to his feet and gives you one last disgusted look before striding out of the bar. Joel goes to follow him but you grab his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

His face softens and he closes his fingers around yours.

“You sure you’re ok?” he asks again.

“Where are you going?”

“He can’t talk to you like that,” Joel grits out, taking a step away.

“Please,” you say quietly. “He’s the one that’s not worth it.”

Joel studies you for a long moment, his gaze intense and when he sees your eyes start to water he tilts his head in understanding and gently wraps an arm around your waist.

“Alright sunshine. I won’t. But if I ever see him come near you again…”

“I give you permission to totally kick his ass,” you say, trying to hide your face as you wipe away a stray tear.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, pulling you away from the Juke box toward a more secluded spot. “It’s ok darlin. He didn’t hurt you did he?”

Joel glances at your arm but thankfully there are no marks where Jeff grabbed you.

“No, just scared me more than anything.”

“Ok then,” Joel says softly. “You ok to finish your shift?”

“Yea definitely. It’s a good distraction.”

Joel smiles and you lean into him, the smell of spice and leather enveloping your senses, and kiss his scruffy cheek.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime sunshine,” he says with a wink.

Once Dan and Jade are convinced you’re ok they both start swooning over how Joel stepped in and punched Jeff.

“I wish I could have seen it,” you say almost dreamily. “I was just so stunned by it all it never even registered.”

“Well, I saw it,” Dan says, “and let me tell you…it was HOT.”

You see Jade glance behind you and your eyes go wide.

“Will you two quit it! He’s going to think I’m crazy!” you chide.

The rest of your shift is uneventful and as you’re walking out of the back room, bag in hand, you search for Joel but much to your disappointment you don’t see him anywhere in the bar.

“He walked out while you were getting your things,” Jade says lightly, as if she can sense your disappointment. “I’m sure he’ll be back.”

“Yea,” you answer vaguely. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow night.”

You hug Dan and Jade before walking toward the door, your head down as you start to make your way down the street.

“Where are you runnin’ off to sunshine?”

At the sound of Joel’s voice you whirl around and find him leaning against his motorcycle.

“Home,” you answer, trying to keep your voice steady.

His legs are crossed at the ankles and his hands are resting along his bike. His mussed hair moves gently in the light breeze and his jacket is unzipped to reveal his tight black tee beneath.

He’s making it hard to concentrate.

“Let me give you a ride,” he murmurs.

Your eyes widen and he pushes off the bike, walking over and standing in your space.

He reaches up to take your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to gently press them against your palm. That’s when you see his knuckles, torn up and crusted with dried blood.

“Joel,” you gasp, flipping your hand to hold his and delicately grazing his knuckles.

He slowly follows your gaze, offering you a lopsided smirk before he assures you, “I’m fine sunshine. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“But you need to clean it and wrap it,” you tell him closing your hand around his.

“Let me take ya home and then I’ll get it taken care of.”

“I’ve never ridden a bike before,” you admit.

Joel dips his head, brushing his lips along your jaw before they meet your ear.

“Lookin’ forward to being your first, darlin.”

Your lips part with your inhale and when he brings his head back and meets your eyes you tremble at the heat you find simmering.

Joel tears his eyes away to grab his helmet from the handlebars and puts it on your head. He fixes the straps carefully and gently, like you’re precious, and it makes you feel warm all over.

“You’re gonna need a jacket too,” he says.

“I didn’t bring one. It’s usually warm when I walk home.”

“You can have mine.”

He shrugs off his leather jacket and rests it over your shoulders, the worn and soft leather molding to your body and wrapping you in his distinct scent.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him without a jacket or long-sleeved shirt and when you catch sight of the tattoos lining his sculpted arms it just about sends you reeling.

You breathe out a curse.

“You okay?” he asks with a smirk playing on his lips.

“I like your ink,” you tell him, reaching out to trace your fingertips over one of the pieces that covers his bicep.

“You should see the rest of them,” he simpers.

His muscle flexes under your touch and you instinctively dig your fingers into his skin.

“I’d like that,” you hum.

This time he mutters a curse and starts to help you into his jacket, zipping it up slowly and stopping just below your collarbone.

“That should keep ya warm enough,” he muses, looking you over.

“I like you in my jacket,” he murmurs, letting his eyes linger before he checks the straps on your helmet one more time.

Then he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth before he turns and throws one long leg over his bike.

You tell him your address and get on behind him, having seen enough movies to know that much, and spread your legs wide to accommodate the large bike and his hips.

Unsure of where to put your arms you’re thankful when he grabs your hands and pulls them around his middle.

“Hold on tight, sunshine,” he says. “Tap my stomach if you need me to stop and watch the pipes, they get hot.”

He looks down at the large chrome pipes on the side of the bike.

“Okay,” you reply, your voice slightly shaky with nerves.

You bury your face against his back, the thin material of his tee shirt doing little to hide the muscles beneath but before you can really enjoy the feeling the bike roars to life and he pulls away from the sidewalk.

Your whole body vibrates with the action and the sensation makes you squeeze him tighter. You can feel his laughter just before he opens the throttle and takes off.

He takes the long way to your house and when he slows down and kills the engine you still don’t let go of him.

With a press of his palm to your hands you reluctantly let go, your legs wobbly as you try to hop off the bike. He quickly grabs your waist and helps you off, sliding one hand along your arm until he holds your hand in his.

“So?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

“That was kinda fun…I’d do it again.”

At that, he gives you a real smile, one that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“That’s good sunshine. I’ll take you for a ride anytime you want.”

His last words come out like a purr and you’re glad for the hold he has on your hand to keep you standing upright.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and lower your lashes, tugging him toward your house. You stop at the door and pull your bag in front of you, searching for your keys.

“I can’t seem to find my damn…” you start to mutter, ready to turn your bag over and dump it out.

With a frustrated sigh you turn to face him, finding very little space between your bodies. You realize there is nowhere to go as you press yourself into the door, Joel’s body almost touching yours.

The first thing you feel is the strength of his hand around your bicep and the other wrapping around your neck as he drags you closer and covers your mouth with his.

Your bag drops to the floor and you cling to him, the smell of him, the feel of his hands on your body holding you against him and it all overpowers you and you make a throaty sound you can’t control.

His hand at the back of your neck tightens and he groans low, the sound of it skimming down your spine. His kiss grows deeper and more demanding, long enough to steal your breath and you slide your hands over his shoulders and into his hair.

He breaks the kiss, pulling back only an inch to look into your eyes. His own are dark, his lashes lowered over them as he traces his lips with his tongue. His hands settle at your waist and he rests his forehead to yours.

“Joel?” you whisper.

When he lifts his head he gently releases you, his eyes washing over you with a slightly pained expression.

“I’m a gentleman,” he says with a wry smile. “Let me at least take you out first.”

Everything about him screams that he wants to kiss you again but somehow he keeps his distance.

“Right, a date,” you says breathlessly.

“Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy hair.

Before you’ve fully recovered from the first kiss he has you pressed against the door again, his thumb tucked under your chin as his lips trail down the column of your neck. His hands slide lower, stroking your curves as his lips find the spot just below your ear and he whispers, “if I don’t go now…”

“Right…a gentleman…” you gasp, arching into him.

He pulls away, his eyes telling you everything he’s thinking.

Your knees are wobbly and you catch the doorframe with a sigh.

“Thank you again. For coming to my rescue.”

“Like I said, anytime sunshine,” he reminds you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow…”

It’s more of a question than a statement and for a brief moment you see a soft vulnerability flicker across his features.

“Of course,” you answer. “My shift starts at five.”

You lift your hand, brushing your fingers through his beard and then running them across the lines of his face, feeling the softness of his lips beneath your thumb. He reaches up and catches your hand, tugging it to his mouth and kissing across your knuckles.

“See you then sunshine and keep the jacket.”

@justkinsey @sstan-hoe @blackwidownat2814

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #protective!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #biker!joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #biker au #joel miller au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #esquire

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hees-mine · 1 year ago

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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟔 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫! - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 ⚥ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, unprotected sex, crying, angst, love making, alcohol consumption, fluff cause kinktober isn’t my strong suit💀

“Let me guess, the usual?” The bartender asks with a knowing smirk while he uses the white towel on his hip to clean yet another beer mug.

“You know me so well.” You tilt your head a slight smile just barely reaching your lips.

“Strawberry margarita coming right up.” he clicks his tongue and winks at you before starting your drink. “So, how bad was it?” He asks after a moment of silence.

Turning your attention away from your phone to look at the familiar face of your bartender, you respond. “Excuse me?”

“The breakup, you know.” Within a flash, your drink is sitting in front of you, and you still can’t understand how he always gets it ready so fast. Little did you know he always tried a little harder when it came to your order than the rest of his customers. What can he say? He had a little thing for you.

“How did-“ he quickly cuts you off.

“I know,” he smiles, taking the words right out of your mouth. “Lucky guess,” he shrugs.

“Very lucky, guess.” You eye him, taking a sip of your drink and staring into his eyes over the rim of your glass.

“Want me to be honest?” He wipes down the counter and leans his elbows onto it, meeting your curious gaze as you give him a nod to continue. “Well, I've never seen you before, but just recently, you started to frequent here.” he pauses for a second. “And tell me if I’m wrong, but the puffy eyes the off into space look, and though you’ve been coming here for a whole month, I have yet to see you genuinely smile.”

How the fuck did he know that? or maybe you were just that obvious who knows. “Well, maybe I just lost a family member or a friend.” you throw out other ideas.

“Hmm, possibly.” he taps the counter with his index finger. “But I’ve worked here a long time, and your eyes say heartbroken. Other people who lost family have this almost glazed-over look in their eyes, and no matter how deep you look, there’s still nothing but sorrow.”

So was he a fucking empath or a bartender?

“Okay, or I’m just taking it better than some people.” You don’t know why, but something about someone knowing the exact reason why you frequent the bar late at night was embarrassing. You felt like a typical girl crying over a piece of shit man that never cared about you in the first place.

“You’re good at throwing people off, I give you that,” he smiles. “Thing is, I can see that you want to smile. I can see that beyond those beautiful sparkling eyes of yours, that there’s so much more to you than downing more margaritas than I can count on my hands and feet.” your eyes shift away from his as you sip from your cup to avoid his intimidating gaze. “I can see that you’re broken.” your breath hitches that same annoying prickly feeling in your eyes, making itself known as a single tear rolled down your cheek. “But you can be repaired.” he strokes your cheek, a soft smile on his face while you stare at him helplessly. You just want the pain to go away, anything to distract you from the heartbreak because it’s been eating you from the inside out, and your bartender’s right, you are broken, but in your eyes, you feel broken beyond repair.

“No.” A shaky breath leaves your lips as you lean into his soft yet caring touch.

“One chance. I know it’s so random, but one chance.” he tucks your hair behind your ear, his thumb now lightly tracing your lipline in case you didn’t already know what he meant. “All I’m asking,” he whispers with a heavy heart.

He doesn’t know why, but the first day he laid eyes on you in the bar with mascara running down your cheeks and your quiet, broken sobs while you drowned yourself in alcohol, the only thing he ever wanted was to just see you smile.

And tonight might just be his lucky night.

Opening your eyes to meet his, you sniffle softly and mutter a small. “Okay,” and even though it’s small and barely there, he feels his heart race a million times faster when he sees the tiniest little smile on your face, but it wasn’t forced like the others you gave him in the past to try and make it seem like you were okay no this was real and if you gave him a chance he’d make you smile like that every morning.

𐃯 𐃯 𐃯

It was well past midnight by the time you both left the bar. heeseung drove you home since you had been drinking well, only one margarita but no drinking and driving on his watch.

You had both already entered your home, and you silently led him to your bedroom after taking off your shoes at the door.

He closed your bedroom door behind him, quickly zeroing in on your frame so delicate, fragile, and almost standoffish. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around your midsection, pressing his back against yours softly as he kisses your exposed shoulder, making you shiver cause it’s been a while since you felt a man’s touch.

Trailing his hands upward, he grips the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulders and kissing the expanse of your soft neck. “He never called me beautiful,” you whisper as you tilt your head, allowing him to reach even more of your skin.

“He was blind,” he says, slowly pulling down the zipper on the back of your dress. “So blind.” his kisses leave little tingles all over your skin.

Rolling your dress down your waist, he lets it pool around your feet, and his hands immediately find the warmth of your waist. Trailing his hand up, he cups your exposed breast with his left hand, smoothing his thumb over your nipple and kissing the shell of your ear.

The faint sound of moans fills his ears, and he smiles to himself cause he’s the one who’s behind them.

He switched to the other side of your neck, his right hand moving from your waist to your stomach, caressing your smooth skin. “So soft.” he takes his time with you, going slowly cause he knows it’s been a while for you, and he could say the same cause he also had been heartbroken before. That’s why the look in your eyes was so easy for him to detect.

While working his lips on your neck, he pulls his hands away from you to unbutton his dress shirt, letting it hit the floor before back hugging you, letting you feel his warm chest pressed against your naked back. He felt so broad. Just his hold on you made you feel safe as you relaxed further and further into his warm embrace.

Ever so slowly, he drops his palm between your legs, rubbing you through the silky material of your underwear. “Heeseung,” you gasp, feeling the heat of his palm stroking your core.

He moans the moment he feels just how wet you’ve gotten for him, and his kisses on your neck grow needy the longer he hears you moaning for him. “Y/n, I’m right here” he caresses your thigh softly, right hand still rubbing your clit through your panties. “Can I?” He slightly tugs on the crotch part of your panties, and he feels you nod against his shoulder. Without a second passing after your approval, he slips his fingers inside your underwear, running them delicately through your folds. “Y/n,” he whines just below your ear, relishing in the way you feel just on his fingers, and hasn’t even been inside you yet.

“Heeseung, please,” you whimper, legs already giving out from his gentle touch.

The hint is not hard to understand, he knows exactly what you’re asking for, and he turns you around, pressing his lips on yours, finally getting a taste of you and your strawberry daiquiri as he replaces his hands on your lower back while yours play with his belt until it’s undone and his pants drop to his feet.

He gently pulled away from the kiss, picking you up carefully and slowly placing you onto the middle of your bed, seamlessly laying between your legs and dragging the material of your panties down slightly. “This okay?” He checks with you just to make, and you confirm, making him to continue his actions until you’re completely bare in front of him.

You jolted in place the moment you felt his breath hitting your core. His kisses and soft caresses on your thighs made you feel like you were so delicate and precious to him, and you were so so special to him, and you didn’t even know it yet, but when this night ended, you’d definitely know. “Heeseung,” you cry out loud in pleasure when his tongue meets your outer lips. You were in complete shock because you’ve never felt anything like this before.

He stops when he hears just how loud you are, thinking he might have scraped you with his teeth. “I'm sorry, you okay?” He kissed your mound, hands still continuously rubbing soft circles on your legs.

“Yeah, I just never..” you trailed off, and now that you think about it, the idea that your boyfriend never even did what a stranger was doing for you made you feel even more terrible about your relationship with that piece of shit.

Heeseung swears he misheard you cause what type of fucking idiot wouldn’t want to pleasure a sweet, beautiful woman like you? “He missed out.” he starts out using his finger to collect your arousal and slowly pushes it in. “Cause you’re the sweetest thing my tongue ever tasted” Without missing a beat, his mouth hovers over your core, softly licking your hooded clit as he works his finger in deeper and deeper.

Gripping onto the sheets with one hand, your other goes to pet his hair, rubbing your fingers over his scalp, making his eyes flutter shut while he savors every last drop of you.

Closing your eyes, you allow yourself to indulge in a new type of pleasure, one that you enjoy beyond words. You fall so deep into bliss you don’t even notice his second finger going in alongside his other, that is, until he starts curling them up, hitting your spot and making you see literal stars.

The tighter you grip his fingers, he knows the closer you’re getting, and he can’t wait to give you the orgasms that your precious body deserves.

When you pant, his name breathless and needy, he feels the repeated clench, and he sucks on your clit just a bit harder to heighten the pleasure of your high, still carefully working his fingers deep inside you, he moans into your heat when your hold on his hair gets a bit rougher, but he doesn’t mind he loves your raw reaction to the pleasure he gives you.

Humming at your taste, he slowly pulls his fingers out of your soaked core, replacing them with his tongue so he can swallow your juices, giving you the full experience and showing you what a real man does for a woman when he really loves and appreciates her.

When your moans turned to soft whimpers, and your body shook ever so slightly, he pulled away from you but not before placing a soft few kisses on the delicious, delicate area.

Seconds later, your sounds are ones of sadness. Your moans turn into quiet sobs, and he immediately hovers over you, scanning your face with worry. “Did I do something wrong?” He asks, worried as he calmly strokes your cheek, and he looks like he’s seconds away from crying, too.

You cry even harder than before because he was worried over something he didn’t even do. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure, but you could still feel the pain in the deepest part of you because your own boyfriend never treated you half as good as heeseung did.

“Y/n? I can g-go if you want me to,” he starts getting ready to get off the bed, feeling his heart drop at the thought of leaving you like this, but if he made you uncomfortable in any way, he didn’t want to stay.

“No,” you quickly grab his biceps, holding him in place.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.” he strokes your tears away with his thumb, only for new ones to quickly replace them as tears well in his own eyes. He hated seeing you cry. He saw it every night for the past month, and it hurt him just a little bit more every time.

“I promise it’s not you.” you rubbed his biceps softly, calming his nerves a little. “It’s just I’m not used to this,” you say, referring to how he was treating you. “My ex neve-“

“Shh,” he shushes you and shakes his head back and forth softly. He wasn’t gonna let you go another night crying over some fucking asshole that didn’t deserve you or your tears. “Forget about him and focus on me.” he stares into your eyes, hoping you can see the anger towards your ex, the sadness for you, but most importantly, the care that they held for you. “I’ll make you forget, I promise.” he kissed your forehead softly. “Take all your tears away.” he kissed your temple and finally kissed your lips as he whispered. “Let me show you what it’s like to be loved. Let me repair you, and you can repair me.” A single tear falls from his eyes, and you quickly wipe it away to press your lips against his.

“Repair me.” that’s all he needed to hear before leaning up to take his underwear off, bearing everything to you like you did with him, being vulnerable with you just like you were with him.

“Thank you,” he whispers on your lips as his hands roam your sides, your hips, your chest, your legs. He was touching you all over, replacing every last inch of your skin with his handprint and his marks of love, as do you, with him, your dainty fingers strumming his chest, back, and thighs, pulling him closer to your body with want, need, and desire.

His bulge brushes against your core over and over again. As he circles his hips, your face grows hot, and a thin layer of sweat forms between you two, sticking you both together as breathless moans are exchanged between one another.

Your hand shimmed down below his waistline at the same time as his. You both chuckled softly, and his heart felt so full hearing you genuinely laugh.

“Ready?” He exhaled a long breath, touching his forehead with yours. A low hum of approval was all he needed to slowly ease his way inside, guiding his tip past your prepped walls and finally indulging in the blissful feeling that you’ve both been waiting for.

His mouth parts open in a gasp-like moan, as does yours. Both of you are too overwhelmed to speak. All that comes out are quick little breaths and pleasurable gasps.

Your face twists in pleasure, and your hands cling to his waist as he cards his fingers through your hair and cups your cheek. “Y/n,” he moans deeply, and it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.

He makes more than a hundred different facial expressions. Just with the slightest thrust, he can feel every single nerve ending, and it makes him feel so drunk off you.

“Heeseung,” you breathe into his mouth, heart racing in your chest from the fullness you felt as he bottomed out, reaching the deepest part of you, overtaking that empty feeling and replacing it with absolute pleasure.

Hooking your legs around his waist, you grip him for support because you feel like you’re slipping when he gets lost in your silky walls.

With every thrust, he watches your face, and as he speeds up, he can’t help but grow flustered at the sounds your conjoined bodies make, and you’re not much better off the both of you shyly hiding in the crooks of each other’s necks.

“You’re so perfect.” he barely gets the words out before he’s whimpering in your ear.

The words he says make it feel as if time has stopped, and in that moment, it’s just you and him alone in the safeness of your bedroom with nothing but the feeling of hurt, passion, and longing for something more.

Every stroke brings you closer and makes you forget. And every tight squeeze rids his mind of nothing but you and this moment.

You’re both getting close, and his hand goes down to your clit, massaging it in perfect circles while both of you moan continuously at the feeling of each other.

Safe, connectedness and love are what you both felt before tipping over that beautiful edge of pleasure and allowing yourselves to get lost in the sea of blissfulness.

You both hold tightly onto one another, making each other your safe place where you can let everything go.

Heads still clouded and full with contentment, heeseung attaches his lips to yours in a soft, delicate kiss, and when he pulls away from you to look into your soft eyes, he feels all the shattered parts of his broken heart piecing back together, and he blinds you with a beautiful bright beaming smile.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you both stroke each other's face adoringly. “For repairing me.”

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback!

#heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen smut #lee heeseung smut #enhypen lee heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypen scenarios #heeseung angst #heeseung fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hyung line #enhypen fanfic #heeseung x reader

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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 11 days ago

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Midnight Temptation

My Bloody Valentine

Part I

You learn a little more about the handsome stranger but not everything is as it seems. Still aloof and secretive but there's just something about him that has captivated you.

18+ Only! MDNI

CW: Slow Burn. Dark and mature themes. Vampire!Steve. Reader is pushed and attacked. Harsh language. Mention of blood and abrasions. Let me know if I missed anything!

WC: 4.7K

Steve… Steve… Steve…

Those eyes. You couldn’t forget those pools of molten amber that bore into yours as if he could see into your very soul.

The tall, dark and handsome stranger edged past the corner of your dream land that very night, catching a glimpse of him in your peripheral, out of place but not unwelcome. Hidden in the shadows, just as he had in the alleyway, watching and waiting. Each time you turn your face to gain a better look, he disappears, always just out of reach.

You awoke the next day with his name on your lips, a breathy whisper before you opened your bleary eyes and adjusted to the early afternoon light.

You sit up with a groan, the bedside table reading 1:16 pm. A little more sleep would have been ideal, but you took whatever you could get. Most days sleeping past noon was a miracle.

It would be another late shift, and you wondered if he might drop by, but you shook the thought from your mind just as quickly as it was there.

“No! Nope… not doing this.” You said to yourself, getting up from bed to get yourself ready. Just some dude. Just some handsome dude… with pretty eyes…

You had to mentally scold yourself once again before getting into the shower.

He didn’t show up that night.

Every time the door swung open, you found your gaze drifting in that direction, hoping he would walk back through and greet you with that broody yet enticing exterior but then as days stretched into a few weeks, you began to wonder if he’d been entirely a figment of your imagination. You felt foolish. It was one small encounter, yet it seemed to mean so much more. Why him? It felt as though in some way he had bewitched you.

Get a grip. He's just some guy… Some handsome, charming, mysterious guy… with a really nice ass. No. No. No. You cut yourself off, going back to check on your tables, making you momentarily forget about Steve, focusing on refilling drinks and taking greasy food orders.

He slipped in as your back was turned, talking to the bartender about some rude ass customer that you had just told off.

“I swear to God, if I see that douche in here again. It's the third time he's hit on me… some assholes just can't take the hint.” You huffed, as Jerry smirked and handed you two mugs of beer.

“Some dicks are like that, I'll make sure the bouncer keeps an eye out for him next time.” the man replies, his head snapping toward the back booth. “Shit, talk about guys that give off creeper vibes.”

Time seemed to slow as those eyes met yours. Those dark orbs flecked with amber shards that you dreamt about. He nodded, taking out a pack of smokes reaching for the ashtray in the middle of the table.

“He gives you the creeps?” You ask incredulously, reluctantly tearing your gaze away to look back at Jerry with a pinch of your brow.

“He's… odd. Been coming in here off and on for a few years. Never orders anything, smokes a couple and then he's gone.” He replies, while wiping down a few glasses.

You look back to Steve and regard him for a moment, his intense stare never leaving you as a cloud of smoke curls upward from his lips upon a heavy exhale, his features momentarily obscured by the cloud of nicotine.

“I dunno Jer, he's got that whole mysterious thing going on but maybe he just enjoys the atmosphere.” You smirk with a snicker, loading the beer onto your tray.

“Ha! In this shithole? That'll be the day.” He laughs, shaking his head and starts to work on some other orders.

Balancing the tray, you take a deep breath and head out onto the floor, navigating the small crowd and dropping off the round of beers, before heading over to where Steve sat.

His cigarette was now smoldering in the ashtray, his hands laced together and sitting on the tabletop as you approached, taking a deep breath to calm your sudden nervousness.

He’s just some guy. You begin to repeat, stepping in front of him.

“Hi stranger.” You greet him with a warm smile. “What’ll it be?”

He returns your smile, with a soft, lopsided one. Cute, you thought.

“Uh, nothing for me, thanks. Just enjoying this cancer stick before I head out.” He replies smoothly, pulling the cigarette back to his lips.

“Head out?” You asked, with an air of disappointment. “But you just got here– Well, I mean…” Your cheeks heat with the sudden slip up as his small grin grows wider, tongue darting out to lick his lips before he spoke once more.

“Keeping tabs on me, are we?” He smirked, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

“What? No.” You scoff. “In case you didn’t know, it’s my job to notice when customers walk in.”

“And talking to your co-worker about me?” He lifted a knowing brow.

“How did you–” Trailing off and looking back to where you had been standing with Jerry, all the way at the other end of the building, at least twenty feet away. How could he have heard that?

“Creeper vibes?” He asks, as your head snaps back to him.

“Hey, I didn’t say that… That was all Jerry.” You defend, placing a hand to your hip.

“I’m only teasing. I am well aware of my mysterious vibes.” He says with a chuckle, letting your tension melt away as his reassurance and light teasing puts you at ease.

“Well, I should at least apologi–”

“No need.” Dismissing the notion with a small wave before taking another cigarette to light.

“Let me buy you a beer?” You ask, voice low and sweet, hoping he would accept. For some reason, you were unwilling to let the conversation end so quickly.

“Don’t drink but thank you. Really.” He replies, lips wrapping around the filter as he takes a drag. His pink, pouty, perfect lips. That you were most definitely, unabashedly staring at.

He wears a knowing grin. “Buy me a pack of smokes. We’ll call it even, yeah?”

“Right.” You clear your throat, backing away. “Yeah! Of course.”

He chuckles to himself, watching as you turn and hurriedly make your way over to the bar.

A while later, you took your break running into the convenience store a few storefronts down to buy him that pack of cigarettes but by the time you made it back he was already gone.

“What the fuck?” You hiss, looking around at seeing his empty seat but this time there was a napkin left behind. A simple promise scrawled in fairly neat handwriting.

Sorry, had to dash. Save it for next time. – Steve

You smiled to yourself, pocketing the pack into your apron before making your next rounds.

It would only be a few days until your next encounter, passing him the small white pack with a smile. From that day forward, you began to see him every few days, learning a little more about him each time.

That aloof and mysterious facade quickly started to slip away, revealing a mild mannered, albeit a little broody sweetheart. There was still an air of secrecy around him, which you found all the more appealing adding to his already charming demeanor. Being devastatingly handsome was just an added bonus.

Sometimes he spoke like a true old soul with a friendly piece of advice or a few words of wisdom slipping out with ease in the middle of a conversation.

He never drank, didn't even ask for water, just smoked a couple of cigs in his corner keeping to himself. You'd seen a couple of women and men approach him but he always politely turned them down.

You learned he lived close by and liked to get out and stretch his legs, eventually finding his way down to the bar district each night.

When it came to what he did for a living, he kept it very simple yet vague, only stating that he did the occasional odd job. Whatever the odd job may be, it must have paid well considering the clothing he sported was stylish and always well put together, including his TAG Heuer watch. He looked much too expensive for a grungy, dimly lit place like this. It was a wonder he hadn’t been mugged yet.

He was a night owl, yet so were you, keeping you company most evenings and going out to the alley to join you for your breaks.

“So, where are you from originally?” You finally asked, trying to gain some sense of better understanding of the man before you, eyes shifting over to him expectantly.

“A small town, not too far from here.” He replied, looking toward the ground as he leaned against the wall next to you, knocking the ashes from his half smoked cigarette. Yet another vague response to something that should be easy.

“Why do you always do that?” You huffed a little, shifting on your makeshift stool, putting your hands inside your coat pockets, glaring up at him.

“Do what?” He asked flatly, feigning ignorance to his obvious aloofness.

“I ask a question, and you give a half-assed answer. You do it all the time.”

“Sometimes the answer, it’s… complicated.” Answering thoughtfully, with a sigh, a hand running through his perfectly quaffed hair, not meeting your gaze.

“Complicated? That’s as basic as it gets, I would hate to see you try to come up with something for more intricate questions.” You scoff and stand, taking a few steps toward the building.

He heaves another heavy sigh, dropping the butt and crushing it under his boot, watching as you stop and look back at him.

“Look, if you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine. You’ve obviously got some sort of walls built up to keep people out, so I won’t pry.”

He didn’t expect that, meeting your gaze with soft, tired eyes. There was a small, poignant pause between you, as if this would define a small turning point and for whatever reason, he didn't quite understand he let the truth slip free.

“Hawkins.” He quietly said. “About two hours from here, or at least it used to be.”

“No shit?” You asked, bewildered.

A natural gas explosion from an extensive underground cave system had decimated the sleepy town. Everyone in Indiana knew about the events that reeked of a government cover up and had conspiracy theorists coming out of the woodwork. Luckily, most of the residents had already been evacuated, so most of the damage was isolated to the land and structures. You’d remembered reading about it in some of your history classes.

“Wow, that was in ‘88 or ‘89… wait… how old are you exactly?” Your brows pinched with confusion as you mentally calculated the time frame.

“Yeah, the end of ‘89. And I'm… older than I look.” He shrugged, biting his lip, trying to gauge your expression.

“So… you're fucking with me?” You nod, face falling a bit, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, it would've been easier just to say literally any BFE town in Indiana, or hell the world. It's not like I'm going to go snoop into your history, Steve.”

His lips part but you hold up a hand, silencing him.

“Nope. I get it. Keep your secrets.” You quickly spin away and leave him standing there crestfallen and a little stunned. It suddenly occurred to you that he wasn't taking anything seriously, so neither should you. It stung a little, but at least you knew where he stood or rather didn't stand.

Steve knew he was getting in too deep.

It had been years since he had any sort of meaningful connection with someone, finding himself craving your company. He knew better yet found himself sitting at his usual booth again and again.

He still didn't understand it. No one has ever smelled as divine as you do and he imagined no one ever would. It was maddening, but the more time he spent in your presence he was able to control his impulses, keeping those beastly urges at bay.

Those first few weeks were pure agony. He left the alley in search of a quick meal, finding it a couple of blocks down in a dimly lit parking garage. It warmed his throat but tasted like ash on his tongue, doing little to quench his bloodlust, his mind drifting back to you. To have you so close, yet letting you slip right through his fingers seemed such a waste.

After he'd finished, letting the chap go on his merry way, he wandered back toward that same alley finding it vacant, but your powerful scent lingered. He stayed close by until you were finished with your shift.

Around 2 am, you finally found your way going toward home with Steve close behind. For a moment, it crossed his mind to drag you into the nearest dark corner and feed, but he pushed that thought away. You were something special, that much was obvious, he had to control himself if he wanted to get closer to you.

He silently followed you every night, staying undetected and keeping to the shadows, until his fangs no longer had a mind of their own every time he caught a whiff of your sweet essence. In all these years, he had never felt the need to do so with anyone but the overwhelming urge to have you, to claim you in every way began to slowly overtake his brain. In his mind, you were already his.

Talking about Hawkins brought up a lot of memories he would have much rather forgotten but he didn't think about the logistics, his mouth working faster than his mind when it slipped out.

The look on your face had made his heart ache. An immediate lump formed in his throat at your mere mention of being anything but truthful, suddenly wishing he had lied instead. The real truth of the matter, the town being overrun with creatures from the Upside Down would have been too much for someone to understand.

Of course, it didn't help that he was forever stuck in this twenty-year-old form, now at fifty-seven. Even if he had actually been born closer to the downfall of Hawkins, it would have been a stretch to believe.

The government did come in to cover it up, as far as he knows, they're still covering it up. No one is allowed in. The secure barrier that they created is heavily monitored by the military but somewhere deep in his bones he can still feel it. The influence, the pull that ties him to all manner of creature and beings still beyond his manner of understanding.

He supposed that's why he hadn't managed to go further than Indianapolis. Something tethered him to the Upside Down, a bond that would probably never be severed.

Fall faded as winter quickly approached and the temperatures began to nosedive. There was early snow at the end of November that had turned into a grey frozen sludge on many of the sidewalks making it a literal icy hell. You lost count of how many times you had slipped and fallen already.

Christmas Eve was no different. You made the hazardous trek in but it was still business as usual once you had arrived. The glow of the neon and promise of cheap beer was just too much for some people to ignore, most patrons seemingly unfazed by the wintery tundra just outside the door, self-preservation be damned.

On holidays the bars were usually filled with the lonely and broken, people with no other place to go so they filled their time with a buzz and familiar conversation. No family. No friends. You seemed to fit right in.

Steve hadn’t come back around, and you admittedly missed his presence. His booth remained empty, and it left you feeling a little remorseful at the last conversation. Maybe you were too harsh and quick to judge but then again, why did he lie about the most mundane question.

In those few short weeks, he’d become a staple. Even Jerry had commented that he hadn’t seen the “creeper” in a while. Though “creeper” seemed to now be a more affectionate term, as he saw the way Steve had looked at you, though he kept his commentary to himself after you had seemed so heartbroken the last time he had been here.

The longer the night pressed on, the flow of customers only began to trickle. Midnight left you and Jerry alone with one of the regulars, Jimmy. An older man whose wife died a few years back, so he drowned his sorrows when he could.

You were sitting at the bar, counting your tips when Jerry spoke up.

“Want to go home early? I don’t think anyone else is going to come in tonight. If they do, I can manage.” He says, nonchalantly, wiping down the bar.

“Not like I have anywhere else to be Jer.” Responding nonchalantly. “But if you're trying to run me off I won't object.” Your fingers drift to the back of your apron, untying it and hopping off the stool.

You slipped into the restroom to empty your bladder for the walk home, as if by habit your eyes drifting to that empty booth upon exiting. There was a small red gift bag sitting there.

Looking around, the place was just as you had left it. Jimmy was nursing his drink at the bar and Jerry had his back to you, cleaning up the bottles in the back. You wipe your damp hands down the front of your jeans and begin to make your way over.

Upon further examination the small tag indeed has your name scrawled across it, making your heart leap a little in your chest. You pull the matching red tissue paper up to reveal a small note tucked into the side.

Please accept this small token as gratitude for your time and listening ear.

Merry Christmas, Steve.

You look around again. How had he slipped in and out so quickly?

A black velvet box lay in the bottom of the bag. Your fingers hesitantly wrap around the smooth exterior, before opening it to reveal a diamond tennis bracelet. It sparkled back at you in the neon and low lights. It was breathtaking and assuredly cost more than what you made in a month's time.

You trace the edges in awe, so enraptured that you hadn't heard the footsteps behind you.

“What's that?” Jerry's voice pulls you back to reality.

“Uh, nothing.” You quickly recover, snapping the box closed and shoving it back into the bag awkwardly.

“That didn't look like nothing.” He prodded with a small grin.

“Bye Jerry.” You squeeze past him to head out for the night, with the bag clutched tight to your chest.

“Sure Y/N, have a good night.” He chuckled as you made toward the back.

Later that night you examined the bracelet with a big dopey smile plastered to your face. No one had ever given you something so lavish. Too lavish that wearing it out to work seemed out of place but it was too beautiful not to show off. Jerry never said anything, but he always gave you a knowing smile when he saw the jewelry on your wrist.

You hadn't even been able to thank him properly for the bracelet. Steve’s note had been short, not surprising the way you two had left things but you continued wondering if you would see him again or if he would forever keep his distance. It would be weeks before you would finally see him again.

The day before Valentine’s.

A made-up holiday for big corporations to profit off of lovesick saps. Being single for so long had turned you a bit cynical toward love, not that you had meant for it to happen, but you had grown accustomed to the idea of being alone.

The bar was having a big event the next day, so it already looked like cupid had thrown up around the room. Streamers, paper hearts and heart shaped balloons decorated the space.

Jerry chuckled as you grumbled about your shift, thankful you would be off the actual day of, happy not to have to wait on cheery couples or the occasional depressed loner.

Steve’s booth remained relatively empty as if it was always waiting for his return, until tonight. You watched as two men strolled in like they owned the place and quickly took up residence in the back.

“What can I get you two gentlemen?” Asking as you walked up to his booth. A silly notion that he should have such a claim over it. He didn’t own it; hell he never even bought a drink.

“Hi sweet cheeks.” The one to the left of you hummed, tongue licking across his lower lip as his eyes drifted down your legs, even going as far as shifting in his seat to gain a better look. It made your skin crawl. He was pushing every bit of fifty, pudge hanging over his pants and balding.

You had your fair share of sleazeballs, but these two were the big door prize.

“Pitcher of Bud Light,” The younger one spoke up, eyes settling unabashedly on your cleavage. He could have been the other’s son but still had all of his sandy blonde hair. Something in the way he stared at you made your hairs stand on end. It was unsettling the way his eyes lingered, looking you up and down like you were his next meal.

“And sweet cheeks, how about some shots of Jack to go with that.” The older one grinned. “My boy just got home today and we’re celebrating.”

“Coming right up,” you responded cheerfully, dropping your forced smile as soon as you turned away. It was bound to be a long night, and these two were only going to make it worse.

A little while later, you brought their drinks over, careful not to lean too far over the table to give them the wrong idea.

“Here we go. One pitcher of Bud Light, two glasses and two shots of Jack.” You smiled, friendly enough, setting everything out between them. “Anything else for you right now?”

“How about you do a shot with us, huh?” The younger man leaned slightly forward sporting a sardonic grin.

“Sorry, don’t drink on the clock but let me know if I can get you anything else.” You nod and turn to head back out onto the floor.

“Woah, hey, don't leave yet.” He grabs your wrist, halting your movement, causing you to spin back around with an icy glare. He chuckles, but lets you go, holding his hands up in defense but his eyes drift to the bracelet around your wrist.

“Don’t touch me again.” You spit.

“Sorry darlin. Just thought you might want to help me celebrate later. Once you get off…” Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes lingering up and down your curves, but the offer is short lived as you scoff.

“I’ll pass.” You shoot back, not bothering to wait for a retort or to watch his all too forced smile turns into a heavy scowl, cussing under his breath, calling you a “fuckin’ bitch” as you walked away.

You were too engrossed in taking orders and gathering drinks to notice them leer at you from the corner, leaving only after one round of drinks. You weren’t shocked to find they had paid exact change, no tip included. Good riddance.

The rest of your shift went smoothly, all but forgetting those two idiots and letting the rest of the night fade away.

You left the warmth of the bar behind around two in the morning, along with the smell of stale beer heading for home, making sure your coat was zipped securely as you began to hum “Can’t Help Falling in Love”, an earworm you couldn’t shake since it had been playing on rotation all night.

“Happy Valentine’s Day…” You murmured, tossing your knit beanie over your head and securely over your ears.

Much to your surprise the flurries had stopped earlier, leaving a clear and quiet night behind. The crusty slush and salt mixture crunches beneath your boots with each step. Once you made it past the main storefronts, it began to turn into that thin sheen of icy danger making you slow down a few beats to make sure you didn't slip.

The strap of your backpack kept falling, making you pause to push it up your shoulder again as you suddenly thought you heard what sounded like footsteps falling in behind in time with your own. You stop, and so do they.

Your breath fogs ahead of you as you swallow thickly around a small lump beginning to form in your throat. Something felt off. You turn to look over your shoulder, seeing nothing but an empty sidewalk in a frozen cityscape. A breath of relief escapes you, spinning back around as you pick up the pace.

It was only another two blocks before you would be back in the warmth and safety of your apartment, suddenly aching for a hot bath and a glass of wine to wind down.

A noise from the darkened alley ahead makes your head snap in the direction it came from. The streetlamp was out, making you feel a strange unease once more. You didn’t stop, looking down the street there was a dumpster but nothing else that seems out of place.

It was sudden, knocking the breath from your lungs as your body crashes to the frozen ground, you gasp harshly as something grabs onto you, quickly pulling you back up to a standing position and dragging you closer to the secluded alleyway.

“St—” You try, still too winded from the initial blow to speak, a raspy sort of squeak escaping you instead, your legs thrashing out in front of you.

Whoever it was didn’t let go, forcing their hand over your mouth to stifle any more noises that escape you as their arm wound around your waist, hauling you up as they continue down the dark alleyway. This is it. You think bitterly.

“Stupid bitch.” They hiss. “I asked nicely earlier, ya’ know.”

It suddenly hit you. The asshole from earlier.

You attempt to scream, finally getting the breath back in your lungs but it comes out too muffled behind his large palm.

“Shut the fuck up!” He grits out, right by your ear, suddenly throwing you up against the metal dumpster. Your head hit hard, knocking you dazed as he let you crumple to the ground with a dark chuckle. “Least I can get a pretty penny for that piece of ice on your arm.”

You reach up, your fingertips are met with a warm, wet patch at your hairline, making your grimace as blood slowly trickles down the side of your face.

It all happened so quickly. One second the idiot was right on top of you, breathing down your neck and then he was being pulled away from you with a forceful tug.

There was a half scream, half screeching noise followed by a gurgling sound that was abruptly cut off as an eerie silence hung in the air. You wince, trying to turn your head to see behind you.

Your eyes squint in the dark, two black silhouettes in the shadows clinging closely to each other, or rather, as your eyes begin to focus, one holding the other up. You watch in silence as the figure in a long, dark coat lets the other go. They fall to the ground with a resounding thud in a limp, unmoving heap as a shiver runs down your spine at the sudden revelation.

You try to move back, but your feet fai you, feeling heavy and lethargic, sending you back into the dumpster beside you with a resounding thud, causing his head to snap toward you.

His eyes. That molten amber glowing brightly in the dark. Those eyes that you had dreamed of, it hadn't been your imagination, only now seeming more like a nightmare as he stares at you.

You gasp, covering your mouth as he takes a step forward, his face finally illuminated just enough to see those handsome features come into view only to be obscured with a splatter of crimson splashed across his alabaster skin.

“Steve?!”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #joe keery #vampire!steve #vampire!steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #midnight temptation

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rwac96 · 6 months ago

Note

In a bar at a settlement weiss and jaune decide to relax and grab a drink after long day of fight ghouls in some military bunker and finding clues where winter went, the two got a bit too drunk, weiss notice how tight the uniform jaune was wearing and outlined his cock and jaune notice how tight the vault suit she was wearing showing her perfect petite body.

"Oh, Gods!" Weiss hiccups, holding a glass of wine, wastelander wine specifically. "This tastes like, what's that word in Old World movies?" The Vault Dweller pondered, "Swill. This is swill!"

"Well, excuse me, Vaultie!" The ghoul bartender said as he wiped a mug clean. "I'm sorry for not servin' 'clean booze' you Dwellers get in ya fancy shelters!"

"Hey," Jaune spoke up, out of his power armor, wearing an orange uniform. "it's not nice like the stuff from your Vault, but it's nice when it goes down the gullet." The BoS Knight lifts up a mug of beer, taking several gulps.

"Still," The Dweller creased her brows, as intoxication began to kick in. "there's the concern of radiation."

"Hey now!" The ghoul slams his mug down onto the cavern, "I serve clean stuff here! I make damn sure the purifier works one hundred percent!"

Weiss grimaced, raising her hands in defense; realizing she had offended the tavern server. She stood up from the stool, only to fall but was luckily caught by her traveling companion. As Jaune held Weiss close, he noticed how tight the vault suit hugged against her figure. The white-haired girl blinks, feeling the Knight's muscular figure and her ice-blue eyes catch the sight of the outline of his erection. The two shift their eyes to one another, making contact while Weiss fixes her stance and posture. Then, Jaune pulls the Vault Dweller close to him, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her. Fully using his tongue, Weiss was returning the favor.

"HEY! HEY!!" The ghoul bartender shouts, "Take it away from my customers!"

"JUNIOR!!" Screamed another ghoul, "Calm down!"

#answer #answered #answers #answer post #answered post #rwby #rwby au #rwby smut #weiss schnee #jaune arc #whiteknight #white knight #rwby white knight #rwby whiteknight #post-apocalyptic au #fallout au

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spinningwebsandtales · 2 months ago

Text

Imagine Helping Ivan Through A Dark Time Of His Life

Ivan Drago X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Bar, mentions of drinking, fighting, assault, anxiety, hurt/comfort, mentions of blood

Word Count: 3.4k

(A/N:) I had this idea while watching Rocky 4 the other night and it turned into this monster of an imagine! I'm really proud of it and I mostly wrote it for my best friend! I hope she enjoys it and all the other Ivan Drago fangirls as well! I had a little too much fun writing it and finding this gif! I know what I did and I'm not sorry! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

He'd lost and it cost him everything. Alone and feeling less than worthless Ivan Drago was ready to give up everything. His wife left him, his country hated him and it was all thanks to Rocky Balboa. Everyone knew victory tasted so sweet but they never made you realize how bitter the taste of utter defeat is. He had nothing else to lose, until he found you. A encounter most would call fate, but in time Ivan would realize that it was his saving grace.

It had been just another day for you, just another night to serve drinks and make it home in the weather safe and sound. Halfway through your shift and the late crowd was as rowdy as ever. Being the end of the week, it was always rowdy and it wasn't unusual to go home covered with a few bruises of the customers getting to handsy and grabbing you harshly. Luckily nothing ever bad came out of it, but it still bothered you.

Once again you were bussing tables, serving drinks, and staying out of reach. You were tired and ready to go home but the night was still young. You had at least two more hours to go, and that was only if the crowd wouldn't grow in that time.

The bar crowd remained steady as did the poured drinks, as you kept counting down the minutes. If everything kept going smoothly this was one night you were going to get to turn in early. Thirty minutes to go and you started to work on the end of the night chores that needed done. You were passing by a table full of rowdy men with a tub full of glasses when you came too close. One snatched you by the wrist, holding onto it harshly causing you to wince. He pulled you in and you planted your feet pulling backwards to keep yourself from crashing into his lap.

"Don't be that way," he called making his friends laugh loudly. You looked around trying to spy any help and your heart sank when you noticed that the other patrons were laughing right along with the men. This was going to turn out bad for you if you couldn't figure out a way to escape.

"I am a little busy at the moment," you spoke calmly though you trembled on the inside. "So can you please let me go?"

"Don't be that way," he pulled harder and you crashed down onto him. "My boys came for a good time tonight and I could use some company of the female variety."

"I'm sure you can find a more willing target," you glared trying to pry his grip from your person.

You looked around, trying to find any help in the building. One lone man sat at the bar, nursing a large mug of beer. He came in often as you were good at remembering faces. You never asked his name and throughout his visits he always remained silent. He'd drink and then leave. Where he went you had no idea and it wasn't any of your business. But this time you set pleading eyes on his back. He was huge for a normal man and his blond hair growing out from a cropped haircut. He turned towards you, feeling your stare. His eyes were glassy from the amount of booze he consumed for the night but you could still see the danger in his body language.

"She said she's not interested," the large blond haired man growled, interrupting anything your captor could reply to you. Draining the rest of his mug and placing it back on the bar he turned fully around.

"What do you know has-been? Still think you're so tough, even when you lost to the American man," the man holding you against himself snarled.

The rest of the bar laughed harshly. You hadn't recognized Ivan Drago until this moment. Russia's golden boy, the man that was going to take the American sports world by storm. That planned backfired and now before you sat the man in all his shriveled up glory. It was no secret he was divorced and a recluse. Your heart ached for him as you also had felt that utter defeat. Hopelessly dreaming for better while being stuck in that same hole that you started in. You would have left this job so long ago but the area didn't have anything better and you needed the money it provided more than anyone could realize.

"Let her go," Ivan replied startling you from your spiraling thoughts.

"I don't think I will. She likes me."

"Funny from my end she looks to be disgusted," he scratched at his neck before popping his knuckles.

"What do you even know," he replied squeezing your waist tighter. You grimaced, tearing harder at his fingers. "You can't even win a boxing match for us let alone yourself. What makes you think you can make me give up on my conquest?"

Ivan looked back down, his eyes staring straight through you. You saw a wave of emotions but then his jaw clenched and quicker than anyone could react, he struck. His fist landed on your attacker's jaw sending him careening off the chair and onto the floor. The sudden strike had him releasing you and you stumbled forward right into Ivan Drago. He grasped you, pulling into his body. While the other man had treated you harshly and hurt you, Ivan was careful holding you into his solid side. That's when chaos broke loose in the bar. Men rushed Ivan with any weapon they could, whether it was broken bottles, chairs, or just bareknuckle fists. He shoved you behind him, beckoning you to get behind the counter while he stood his ground.

You ducked a flying bottle and slid around the bar corner. Your fellow waitresses hid behind the same counter, holding their hands over their ears and shaking uncontrollably. Your curiosity was too much to handle and every now and again you'd peek over the counter to check on Ivan. Several unconscious men littered the floor around his feet, but there was a cut on his temple dripping blood onto the floor. You couldn't help but worry until the bar owner stomped down the stairs a shotgun in hand. One shot sounded through the building, ringing your ears and stunning the rowdy crowd.

"Get out," your boss roared. "You lot are destroying everything and terrifying my staff!"

He leveled the weapon at Ivan and before you could really think about what you did, you were racing from behind the bar and stepping in front of your hero.

"It wasn't his fault," you protested. "He saved me. This one was causing all the trouble he grabbed me and wouldn't let me go." You nudged your attacker with your shoe and the man could barely whimper.

"All the same everyone out," your boss growled. "Girls you're dismissed for the evening. Close everything up."

You nodded silently before turning back to Ivan, "Thank you."

He shrugged and dropped the guy he had by the collar before he quietly left the building. Stumbling a little bit and still dripping blood in his wake. He wasn't in as bad shape as the other guys but you were still worried about him. Getting the rest of the patrons out and closing up shop you were more than ready to get home. You just finished locking the door behind you when a large hand grabbed your arm. You screamed, whirling around and trying to hit your new attacker.

"It's me!"

Ivan's voice cut through your panic and you were more than relieved that it was him.

"The rest of the guys were waiting on you," he glared at the darkened alleyway by the bar. "I'm walking you home.

"Thank you," you whispered your anxiety levels growing. This was starting to get out of hand. Ivan took your hand and started leading the way.

"Wait," you dug your heels in causing him to glance back. You rummaged through your pockets finding the antiseptic wipe and large bandaid that you took from the bar's first aid kit. "You're still bleeding."

"It's nothing," he said before trying to tug you back along.

You dug in your feet, widening your stance to keep him from pulling you. "Stop! You helped me at least let me do this for you."

His blue eyes darkened in warning but he could tell instantly that you wouldn't back down. You may be smaller but you weren't going to take no for an answer. He sighed stooping down to where you could reach his cut. You smiled a little before ripping the wipe's wrapper open and gingerly cleaned the wound. It stung a little but he had no reaction. You blew on the cut, trying to dry it out before you unwrapped the bandage and stuck it to his wounded temple.

"All better," you threw the trash away before offering your hand again. "Now you can walk me home."

Ivan took your hand but couldn't help but grin to himself.

Weeks went by after that bar fight and it had become a routine for Ivan to show up to drink but he wouldn't drink himself into a stupor so he could walk you back home. The men had stopped trying to grab you as much and majority of the time if they tried all it took was one look from Ivan Drago over his glass that made everyone start behaving again. It wasn't long until your boss hired him to be a bouncer. Keeping the peace, making sure you and everyone else stayed safe. Ivan had told you one night on the walk towards your home that it was hard for him to find work. No one wanted to hire the failure. The country's disappointment. After finding another purpose you could see a light come back into Drago and it made your heart soar at his new found happiness.

That didn't last long as one evening at your home, you were getting ready for bed when you heard a knock on your door. Pulling on a robe you shuffled to the door, but you weren't too keen on opening it just yet.

"Who is it," you asked your heart pounding in your chest.

"It's me," was all Ivan would say.

You quickly opened the door to see a bloodied Ivan taking up your doorway.

"Ivan," you gasped pulling him inside. He stumbled but kept upright as you helped him into a chair. "What happened?"

"A bunch of men showed up at my home and broke in. I couldn't fight them all and then my home caught on fire." He sunk into the chair placing his head in his hands. "I should have never tried to be a boxer. It's done nothing but make my life full of misery. I can't go anywhere without whispers and constant reminders of my failure."

"Oh Ivan," you whimpered holding his head tightly to your chest. "You're not a failure. Life is more than winning and losing. We're all people trying to make it through this world. You shouldn't be treated like this just because of some boxing match."

He held onto you tightly burying his face into your warm nightgown. You rubbed his back and you noticed him wincing.

"Are you hurt badly?"

He sighed heavily and a pause passed before Ivan finally nodded. You didn't say another word as you helped him stand. His steps heavy and shoulders sagging with the weight of pain, both physical and mentally. Ivan was a broken man and you couldn't stand seeing the sight. It wasn't fair how people treated him just because he fell short of their expectations. You lead him into your bathroom and sat him upon the toilet seat cover. He wordlessly watched you as you started to run warm water in the sink.

"Let's get your shirt off and I noticed the gash in your leg. So modesty is out the window, lets get you out of those pants too. Then I'll know all the supplies I need to treat you."

He nodded wincing as he tugged at his shirt. You stopped looking through your medicines to help him. With his shirt off you could see bruises starting to blossom on his skin and a few places were covered in blackened soot. You hadn't realized how dirty he was from smoke and fighting off so many attackers. Your thoughts were interrupted when Ivan stood up to remove his torn pants. You turned away, going back to searching through all the supplies you had when you heard him sit back down. You tried fighting the blush in your cheeks when you finally turned back towards Ivan Drago and saw the fighter that still physically remained. His muscled chest marred with lots of cuts and bruises and his strong thighs trembling slightly from the adrenaline crash he was starting to experience.

"I'll get you fixed up and then you can get some sleep," you said trying to focus on the task and not how attractive the man before you is.

First you took some of the soapy hot water and cleaned him as best as you could. The water turned mirey quickly from the dirt and dried blood, but you could already tell Ivan was looking better already. You took a new washcloth and ran it through his hair a couple of times to get rid of most of the filth. He could take a shower later. Now that you could see all his wounds better you got to work disinfecting everything and binding the worse cuts. The gash on his thigh luckily could go without stitches so you cleaned it good and used butterfly bandages to hold the skin in place.

"Try not to do anything strenuous until everything closes and we'll try to get you a shower tomorrow to get the rest of all the grime off of you. No soaking any of the bandages, Pat them dry and then we'll change them in the morning and clean everything back up again. We can't risk infection."

"Why," he muttered.

"You know what happens when something gets infected right," you asked.

"No," he looked up and you could have cried at the defeat in his eyes. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because," you started putting things away. "You're not worthless Ivan Drago and you deserve good things in life. No one should have to go through things alone. And I guess I feel like I owe you for that night at the bar."

"You paid me back when you put that bandage on my cut that first night," he replied.

You sucked in a breath, blinking back tears. You decided that the rest of everything could be put up later.

"Come on let's get you comfortable."

Your home wasn't much but it was perfect for you and you definitely wanted him to rest well, it would help with the healing. Luckily you had a bed big enough for Ivan to sleep comfortably and double lucky that the couch in your living room was comfortable enough to sleep on. Ivan took in his surroundings as he finally got to see a little bit further into your personal life. Everything about your home was cozy and welcoming. When you opened your bedroom door, he couldn't help but pause. His ex-wife suddenly flashed through his mind but when he looked back at you she quickly disappeared.

"You okay," you asked concerned that he had hurt himself.

"Yeah," he said. "Just a thought."

"You can have my bed tonight. The couch is plenty comfortable for me and I will be able to hear you if you need me in the middle of the night."

Ivan shook his head, "I can't take your room from you."

"You can and will," you crossed your arms. He could tell by your stance that there was no arguing with you. He needed a good night's rest and he was going to have it even if you had to strong arm him into the bed. Which seemed ridiculous because he was so much bigger than you. Though your mom always said if stubbornness was a superpower you'd rule the world. "So less arguing more resting please."

Ivan tried staring you down once more but you wouldn't back down. His shoulders sagged in defeat and he nodded. Relenting while you moved the covers back. Gingerly laying down on the mattress, you covered him back up and before you talked yourself out of it, you placed a light kiss against his forehead. You turned to retreat when Ivan grabbed your wrist.

"Please stay," he whispered and it was so tempting to crawl by his side.

But you shook your head, "Rest."

You retreated quickly before you lost your senses and stayed. Back in the living room, you sunk down into the couch trying to cool your enflamed cheeks. You would have never thought that that night at the bar when he rescued you would lead to this. And you could say that you didn't have one regret. Though your mind was racing and your heart was in a tug of war match, it didn't take you long to fall asleep.

The next morning you helped Ivan get ready for his shower and once he was dried you put new bandages on his wounds and cooked breakfast for you both. This time with him seemed normal and you couldn't find any awkward feelings between you two. Ivan seemed comfortable and you were happy that you were able to take care of him like this as you now knew just how much he had suffered for many years.

Evening came quickly and the perfect day was drawing to a close. You did have to work tomorrow so turning in early was a must. Ivan understood as he stood up and made his way back to your bedroom. He had still protested greatly on taking your bedroom for the second night in a row. But he was your guest and he was still healing. You had just gotten comfy when his voice penetrated through the dark, calling for you.

Thinking him in pain you rushed in, to find him sitting up staring at you intensely.

"Are you okay?"

"Stay," was all he would say.

"Ivan," you sighed.

He rose up further, using his arms to steady himself, "Please stay." He tried again.

You denied him the first night and you couldn't do it again. You looked back at your bedroom door before moving your gaze back to Ivan stretched out on your bed. Freshly showered and wearing just a pair of pants you found for him, your heart skipped a beat.

"Okay," you agreed. "No funny business though."

"You have my word," he promised making room for you beside him. He moved the covers up letting you in. You snuggled into the mattress but made sure to keep him plenty of room. He wasn't having it as Drago brought you closer. Your arms touching his naked chest.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he breathed. "My life was turmoil until I found you." He nuzzled your neck and you sucked in a breath. "Please don't leave me like everyone else."

You relaxed as your heart shattered into pieces. Your fingers absentmindedly traced patterns into his chest before you looked up. His blue eyes searching as you finally answered, putting all the conviction you could muster in your words.

"I won't leave you Ivan Drago."

"I love you," he whispered kissing the top of your head."

You shivered and he squeezed you tighter, "I love you."

Drago melted holding you tightly against himself and refusing to let you go. His breathing started to calm and you could feel all the sorrow and pain leaving his body at this moment. Ivan Drago had lost many things but from now on he was going to win many things and you were happy that you got to be his first win in a very long time.

#Ivan Drago X Reader #Ivan Drago / Reader #Rocky IV #Ivan Drago #Dolph Lundgren #Ivan Drago Imagine #Rocky Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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