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mostly-imagines · 1 year ago

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Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are worried now, more than usual.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steels his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

Hood stands, making his way across the room casually. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” He clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

#these are all wildly different lengths my b #jason todd loves his gf #jason todd the doberman #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction

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writersdrug · 8 months ago

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Bartender!Simon accidentally running into Waitress!Reader while she’s carrying a bunch of drinks for a table, causing them to spill all over herself 👉🏻👈🏻

Even more bonus points if she’s dressed in a white shirt, iykyk 👀

You're onto something here

Also, combining this with the ask about reader snooping through Simon's flat on the 3rd floor

Warnings: NSFW, slight humiliation, Simon goes from gentleman to having nasty nasty thoughts

It's a busy night - when mid-September rolls in, the nights get colder, and people gravitate towards the warm lighting of the bar through the street-front window. You still have a couple of hours left on your shift, which means Ghost still has a while, too.

He can't remember how many beers he's poured tonight. The noise of the shaker is drowned out by the buzz in his head. Mack wants another PBR. Table eleven still needs their shots and two Martinis. He's in the zone, pouring liquor and juices and bitters with practiced skill. He catches every word from the patrons at the bar - at least, every order. He mumbles out a quick "step back, please" when a gaggle of girls tries to stand near the end of the bar, waiting for their drinks. The bar is completely seated, people stuffing themselves between chairs to place their orders. Somon's got half a mind to tell them to clear out and get the fuck back, but he has to be civil. It won't be this hellish for too much longer - Price texted Simon that he'd be there in a bit to help.

Simon's more concerned about you: you're running around, delivering food and drink, bringing condiments and refilling waters - you're weaving between tables, maneuvering around bodies with a quick "sorry" or "scuse me"... you're at one table, and in the blink of an eye, you're at another. Simon sometimes doesn't realize you went into the kitchen until you're busting the door open with plates of food. You're covered in a light sheen of sweat, your usual chipper attitude dampened by the Friday night rush. Simon doesn't miss the way you scowl when you hear a table calling for you, when both of your hands are full.

You push yourself through the crowd of girls hovering by the end of the bar. You huff, grabbing a tray and some glasses. "Is it national 'Go to a Bar' day?" You mumble, squeezing behind Simon and heading to the free soda gun.

He barely makes an effort to reply. "Must be." He grunts, pulling several bottles from the shelves and setting them on the counter. He's snatching this and that - you fill your glasses with water, sliding behind him and grabbing the various drinks on the end of the back and stacking them on your tray.

A man elbowed his way between the patrons at the bar. "Can I get another DogFish IPA?" He says, sticking his glass across the bar.

Simon groans internally, but he keeps a stoic face. He quickly leans to his left and reaches for the glass - right as you were picking up your tray, now stacked with drinks. You stumble back, not expecting Simon to be so close to you, and bump into one of the girls that crowds by the bar's entrance.

Simon feels his stomach drop when he sees each of the glasses topple over. You're instantly drenched, alcohol splashing across your eyes, which you have squeezed shut from the onslaught of fluids. Your shirt is absolutely soaked; a few of the glasses fall to the ground and shatter upon impact, alerting the entire bar and making their heads turn to you - the man who handed Simon the glass is ogling at you shamelessly, and the girl you'd bumped into turns around with a simple oh…

You're frozen, eyes wide and your entire front soaking. Your white shirt is practically see-through, clinging to your skin and providing little coverage for your pink, lacy bra. You look mortified and on the verge of tears. Your panicked stare drifts to Simon - you think he's going to yell at you, or worse: give you the silent treatment for the rest of the night because he's too frustrated to speak.

Simon is trying to keep his own staring under wraps – your tits look absolutely tantalizing, hugged so tightly by your wet shirt – but he snaps out of his daze when he sees your teary eyes. He drops everything - you're the most important person in the room right now. He quickly takes the tray from you and sets it aside.

"Here-" he shoves a fresh rag into your hands. "Cover up with that." He says, taking you by your shoulders and leaning down to your level. "Third floor, there's a dresser on th' left side, second drawer has shirts. Go dry off 'n get a new shirt, I'll clean this up."

You're too stunned to cry. You're angry, embarrassed, frustrated... there's so much happening around you, so many eyes staring at your fuck-up, but Simon's eyes keep you from losing control of your emotions. He doesn’t seem angry or irate – he’s worried about you. Shouldn't you help him clean up? It's your mess after all. "But-"

"Hush. Go on, luv - you're practically see-through." He quickly turns you around and gently shoves you into the crowd, and you hurry away to the stairwell without protest, holding the rag close to your chest.

Simon sighs. The pub slowly starts to return to normal, though people aren't trying as hard to get their drinks. A sense of shame seems to hang around everyone’s heads, though there was only one party at fault, here. He stares daggers at the girls who are still hovering by the bar. The one you ran into is gawking back in fear - she knows she messed up.

"Get the fuck back." Simon seethes, storming over to the POS. They all scramble away and press against the wall, afraid he might start swinging at them. "Finish ya drinks and leave. 'M closin' your tab. You're done."

They dissipate back into the crowd, right as Soap pops his head out of the kitchen. "Heard a crash, ye alright?"

"Fuckin' wankers can't understand simple orders." Simon grumbles, grabbing a broom from the corner and sweeping up the glass. "Slag couldn't get her ass out th' fuckin walkway and made bird spill a tray."

"Christ, she ok?"

"Upstairs. Changin'. Shirt nearly disappeared when it got wet."

"Need me tae check up on-"

"Got a fuckin' kitchen t' run, don't ya?"

Johnny scoffs and disappears back into the kitchen. Simon continues sweeping - he spots Price jogging up to the building throught he street front window, and he sighs in relief.

Upstairs, you do just as Simon instructed. You're topless, your bra still a bit damp after you tried to towel-dry it with he rag Simon gave you. You're sifting through his drawer, face scrunched as you shuffle through and inspect each shirt. You're a bit miffed at how many plain, black t shirts he has - has he ever stepped foot into an Old Navy? - but, eventually, you hit the jackpot.

You pull a shirt from the very bottom of the drawer. It's army green, a bit worn over the years, with a bit of a natural, masculine musk clinging to it. The right front chest has a skull, a sword, and wings, along with the table "Task Force 141". On the back, in large letters: "LT. RILEY".

A smile creeps its way onto your face. He never said which shirt... he said any shirt. And this is the one you want.

Your bra comes off quicky, the fabric still wet and uncomfortable. You toss it somewhere on the bed behind you – you’re sure Simon wouldn’t mind if you hung it over the back of his chair, right? Can’t be wearing a wet bra while you’re running around the restaurant; you’d have a bra-shaped water stain on your shirt. Or, worse – you’d get sick. And you know for a fact (though he’s never said it to you) that Simon would kick himself if you got sick on the job.

You quickly pull the shirt on - it swallows you, both in size and scent. It smells just like him - the bodywash you catch a whiff of when you pass him, the slight muskiness that surrounds you when he reaches above you to grab something - it's all there, just tenfold. You stand up and pull it down; it covers your thighs down to your shorts, almost making it look like you weren’t wearing any to an unassuming person.

You take a peek around the room: it’s quite cozy, even with a lack of real décor. The bed sits against the middle of the wall, with Carolina blue sheets and a grey comforter. The pillows look rather worn, but there’s at least three of them. There’s a television on the dresser that faces the bed, and a small bookshelf in the corner next to an antique-looking chair, except the shelf is filled with mostly keepsakes and memorabilia. Any books in the room are stacked on the edges of the two bay windows, embedded in the brick wall that faces the street. The only lighting comes from three lamps: one on the nightstand by his bed, a taller one next to the clothes rack near the bathroom, and a lantern-looking lamp that he’s somehow attached next to the door.

Curiosity gets the better of you – discovering anything about Simon that he hasn’t already told you is like striking oil. You pad over to the shelf, leaning down to inspect the various objects. A balaclava, rolled up and tucked behind a box. In said box is a medal, bronze and dull, with a fist tightly holding a blazing torch. A worn-down pair of sunglasses lay next to a ring. A green stone sits on a silver band, nestled between two ivy vines. There’s a picture of the four of them: Simon, Johnny, Price, and even Kyle – you had assumed they had met Kyle through the restaurant industry, but there they all were. Dressed in military uniforms, holding guns and posing with stern faces in front of a helicopter. Simon was wearing a rather terrifying skull mask, the rest of him completely covered by his uniform. You were only able to recognize Simon from his brown eyes, but the man in the photo looked entirely different from the bartender downstairs.

Fuck! You completely forgot that you were a waitress, sniffing around your manager’s office when you should be tending to your tables. You turned on your heel and left Simon’s room, running down the stairs two at a time.

Simon was still in the eye of the storm – barely a word had been passed between him and Price, other than a simple hello when he had first hopped behind the bar. Simon was keeping an eye on your tables, which were currently satisfied for the time being – but damn, what was taking you so long? Were you showcasing all of his shirts? The thought of that would’ve had him biting his cheek to prevent a boner, but he was too busy to be anything but concerned for you.

On cue, you come bounding down the stairs, throwing yourself back into the busy crowd as you tie your server apron around your waist. Simon pours a tap, barely able to make out your form flitting through the crowd, making sure your tables are well-off and happy. Price calls your name over the din of the crowd, and you squeeze yourself through the mass of people to collect the drinks sitting on the end of the bar.

“Sorry!” you exclaim, setting your drinks on a tray. “Had to mop myself up a bit with the rag. Did anyone order anything from my tables?” you ask, looking at Simon.

He’s… occupied. His eyes are trained on your shirt. His shirt. That army green that brought up so many old memories, ones he hadn’t thought of in a long time,..

His shirt. Covering your body – and, fucking Christ, you’re not wearing a bra. You’re completely naked under that shirt.

You’re confused. He’s staring at you with such a shocked, glassy pair of eyes that you wonder if you’ve shot him in the leg. You look down at what he’s staring at – oh, right. The shirt. A part of you heats up in embarrassment, and a part in… something else. Yes, I took your shirt. I’ve got your name on my back. If he’s thoroughly upset by this, he’s not expressing it. And if you’re mistaken in the thought that he looks aroused (you wouldn’t be surprised to find him drooling behind the mask – you know how delicious you look right now), you’ll give him the shirt back eventually and pretend this never happened.

“Thanks for earlier.” You spoke over the noisy chatter around you. “This, uh- I hope it’s ok, it was the first shirt I saw.”

Bullshit. He knows he buried that thing deep in his drawer. He did it on purpose. “’S fine.” He mumbles, still dazed.

You glance at him as you carefully balance the tray on your hand. The printer is dealing ticket after ticket of drinks as Price enters them – the man looks at Simon with a frustrated, tight-lipped glare, working double-time to push orders through.

“I’ll be back to grab the rest.” You say quickly. You scurry off, careful to avoid slamming into anyone this time. Simon nearly has a heart attack when he sees his last name across your back. You might as well have his bite mark branded onto the side of your neck.

This opens up a nasty can of worms for him. He’s a goner – he’s thinking about chasing you around the bar, after hours, while all you’re wearing is his shirt; snatching you up and slamming you down on the bar, shoving his face in between your thighs; what you sound like when he pumps you with his fingers; pounding you against the wall in the office, hips crashing into yours as he growls and grunts in your ear, “wanna wear my fuckin’ name, baby? hmm? wanna make sure everyone in this fuckin’ pub knows you’re mine? I’ll gladly fuckin’ help you, fuckin’ tease-“; god, he needs you, he needs to know what you feel like wrapped around his dick, what you sound like when he’s reaching those spots, he needs your nails in his back and your palm smacking him across his face and your teeth on his neck-

“Simon!”

John’s- no, Captain Price’s voice shuts off the movie playing in his mind. He looks at him, barely recognizing the growing frustration in his eyes – Simon’s fighting his own demons right now, and he isn’t even sure if his Captain’s wrath can save him.

“Stop thinkin’ with your Pork Sword and get your arse back on bar.” Price barks – a few of the regulars laugh at that, and Simon realizes he’d had an audience.

He clears his throat and grabs a ticket, quickly reading it and grabbing a glass. He forces himself to let go of the fantasy – he’ll have all night to think about it once he closes. That, or he’ll be hating himself for even thinking of you in that way, especially when the situation wasn’t in your favor. For now, though, he’s got a job to do. He continues to pour and stir and shake drinks left and right, occasionally stealing glances at you, prancing around with his title.

He knows one thing’s for certain – your bra is still somewhere in his room.

#bartender ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #call of duty #cod x reader

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no-144444 · 3 months ago

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swaddle- c.leclerc

summary: the joys of being a father

pairing: dad!charles leclerc x fem! mom! reader

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Charles sighed again as Theo, your newborn baby, wriggled still. He’d been born 2 weeks ago, and the swaddling wasn’t going so well for him. Everytime you’d had to step in and help him, and it made him feel… shitty. He already felt guilty for barely making it to the birth (and not being there mentally or physically for the majority of the 3rd trimester) But tonight, you’d fallen asleep on the couch, which meant he had a chance at Theo duty.

“Come on my love,” he whispered. “Keep your legs still,” he pleaded with the little bundle of you and him, all mixed up into the perfect baby boy. He had your eyes, but Charles’s lips, your cheekbones, but Charles’s eyelashes and so on. He adored him, and his favourite thing to do was just stare at you holding him. His entire world in one place. When he met you, his brain had finally decided to let go of some of the racing shit he had and let you take up space instead. The same happened when Theo came, and suddenly the thought of going to work got harder. Nevertheless, his son was in his arms and he still had to swaddle him before he could fall asleep. “You’re doing great Theo, just stay still.”

Theo moved his legs again, almost as if he didn’t want to be swaddled by him. Theo’s bottom lip jutted out and Charles left the situation tense. Theo would cry and wake you, and Charles would be a failure again. He had to get this.

“Theo,” he whispered gently. He tried not to notice the way his and your voice soothed Theo because if he did, he’d probably start sobbing and never stop. “It’s alright,” he whispered, rubbing his finger over his nose. Theo was so small, such a bundle of light in your lives. Theo’s bottom lip retracted, and Charles felt some of the pressure lift off.

He quickly went to work, expertly swaddling him, and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he left asleep. He turned to the door, ready to take you off the couch and carry you to your shared bed, but he saw you standing there with a soft, prideful (yet tired) smile. Honestly, you’d been glowing ever since Theo was born (and before then, obviously), everything about you was perfect to him. Everything.

You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You did it,” you whispered.

“I did it,” he smiled, his voice low as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “You woke up?”

You nodded. “Mom instincts or something,” you shrugged. “But you had it covered,” you smiled and kissed his cheek. “Come on Char, bedtime for mom and dad too,” you chuckled, taking his hand and leading him to your bed on the other side of the room.

He adored his life, even when he was going slow.

Slow was gentle. Slow was love.

Slow was everything.

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navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

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pomegranatesarchive · 11 months ago

Note

Hello, can please request something Charles Leclerc and dating a very successful actress like an Emmy winner kind of actress, and him being the perfect trophy husband, and everyone's obsessed with them

trophy husband | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x horror actress!reader

summary: charles leclerc is the perfect trophy husband, even if he can’t quite bring himself to watch your movies.

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, landonorris, and 693,928 others!

charles_leclerc: some of my favorite posters so far 😍 make sure to go watch MaXXXine July 3rd, staring my beautiful wife!! ❤️

view comments below!

user1: i still can’t believe they are married 😭

user2: HERE BEFORE MAX!! I MADE IT 😫😫

maxverstappen1: are you going to be able to make it through the whole movie this time?

charles_leclerc: probably not!

user3: LMAO CHARLES JUST ACCEPTED IT 😭😭

user4: i remember there was a time when charles used to swear up and down that he could sit through yns movies..he’s grown 🥹

user5: to be FAIR; i can’t really sit through a y/n movie either. they are always so fucking terrifying, i have to take like 30 minute breaks each minute

user6: the queen of horror will do that to you 😭

user7: charles supporting y/n even though he’s too scared to watch any of her movies is so funny

user8: i just looked at my bf and sighed

pierregasly: so excited 😁

user9: do you think they’ll do another y/n movie, movie night without charles 😂

user10: don’t make it sound like they didn’t invite him?? he CHOSE not to go because he was too scared to watch the movie 😭

yourusername: thank you for the support love 💚

charles_lecerc: HEHEHE ☺️ of course my love anything for you!! ❤️

user11: did this mf just giggle through comments

user12: sometimes i question my high standards, but then i see charles acting like this with y/n and i remind myself i should NEVER settle for less

landonorris: i stand with you Charles. her movies are way to scary. i will be streaming without watching tho 👏

charles_leclerc: thank you Lando 😁

yourusername: my two favorite scaredy cats 🫶

charles_leclerc: i should be your ONLY favorite scaredy cat 😕

landonorris: don’t be jealous Charles, we all know you two only want each other 🙄

user13: HELP LANDO 😭😭

user14: get yourself a man who supports you as much as charles support y/n 👏👏

liked by charles_leclerc, and 53,829 others!

ynupdates: y/n at the MaXXXine premiere today! she had on a total of three different dresses tonight and she looks gorgeous!

view comments below!

charles_leclerc: 😍😍

charles_leclerc: WOW 🤩

charles_leclerc: 🤤🤤🤤🤤

charles_leclerc: beautiful☺️☺️

charles_leclerc: 👏👏

charles_leclerc: holy 😘😘

charles_leclerc: obsessed 🥰🥰

charles_leclerc: MY wife 😻😻😻

charles_leclerc: gorgeous😘

charles_leclerc: stunning ☺️

user15: oh this? nothing just charles showing everyone that he is IN FACT the standard!

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1, and 729,038 others!

yourusername: so excited for you all to see MaXXXine, i’m really proud of it 🥹

view comments below!

charles_leclerc: you should be proud gorgeous ❤️ it was an amazing movie!

maxverstappen1: you didn’t even watch it?

charles_leclerc: I HAD HER DESCRIBE IT TO ME.

charles_leclerc: you looks stunning! 😍

yourusername: thank you cutie ☺️

charles_leclerc: you think i’m cute? ☺️☺️☺️☺️

user16: is charles aware y/n is already his wife??

charles_leclerc: of course i’m aware! i would never forget the day y/n said yes 😡

user17: bad move think just because they’re married charles would stop acting like he’s trying to get at her

user18: i think it’s so crazy to see a man ACTUALLY love and appreciate his partner; like it’s shouldn’t BE crazy. it should be the standard, but yet.,.

lewishamilton: great movie as always! 🔥

yourusername: thank you lew 🫶

user19: “lew” 🥹🥹

landonorris: someone put y/n in a romcom please.

user20: lando does NOT fuck with the horror

user21: NO BUT PLS YNS AMAZING IN HORROR BUT IS IT A CRIME TO WANT TO SEE HER HAPPY IN A MOVIE FOR ONCE

user22: charles x y/n romcom when??

oscarpiastri: amazing movie! 10/10 loved it 🤩

landonorris: if course you like horror you muppet.

oscarpiastri: not everyone sticks to comedy’s because their scared of a little blood…

user23: READ HIM TO FILTH

user24: i’m so excited to shit my pants watching this movie!! (i hate horror but will watch anything yns in)

. . .

notes: can i just say how much i hate summary’s?? like i hate WRITING THEM, love when fics have them tho, but i feel like my summaries never make sense and they take me FOREVERRR

#charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 social media au #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc imagine

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rosiereveries · 4 months ago

Text

TW: age gap (John is in his late 40s and reader is in her early 20s), cheating, unprotected sex, slight breeding, reader cheating on her boyfriend with his dad

Imagine that you are dating a CEO!John son. He is an awful boyfriend who doesn’t take care of you, but he sometimes buys you gifts, and he pays every time you go out. He has his dad's money, and you are comfortable in that relationship. You don’t love him, but you're bored so you date him anyway.

When he invites you to his parent’s place for a party his mother is organizing you agree. You never met his parents, but you googled his father when you started dating. You saw the pictures of John in his expensive black suits looking like a god of sex. He is so attractive with his piercing blue eyes and silver in his hair and the body. He is built like a bear, with broad shoulders and muscles with a little layer of fat.

When you arrive John's wife greets you, and you start to see that your boyfriend is the exact version of his mom. She is the typical neurotic mother who is obsessed with her baby boy, who has everything in life but still shoplifts underwear and cheats on her husband with some Pilates instructor (because he reminds her of her son). It is very clear that your boyfriend's parents don’t love each other, and they stay together just because they don’t have time for a divorce.

Your boyfriend leaves you at the bar. He orders you a drink and tells you to stay here and wait for him. He must go speak with his boys, and he doesn’t want you to ruin their vibe. You know they need some bro time. You stay at the bar texting your friends, promising that you will break up with him the moment he comes back because you just got the biggest ick from his bro time.

That’s how John finds you, Alone, sipping on your sweet drink and paying no attention to the party. He sits next to you, and when he asks you if you are one of his wife's friends from the yoga group you tell him no. He is relieved because you look like a sweet girl. Then you tell him that you date his son, and he thinks that his luck just run out. What he doesn’t know is that it is your 3rd drink of the night, you’ve been waiting for your boyfriend for more than 40 minutes and you are so over him. So you start to complain, you say that he doesn’t spend time with you, he only wants to have sex and when you finally agree, he can't get his dick hard because he is drunk or high. You also think that he is cheating on you and you couldn’t care less about him.

When John asks you why you are still with him you simply tell him that you enjoy his money. John orders you a glass of water and makes you drink it, then another and another. He has plans with you and he needs you sober. He moves his chair, so he sits closer to you, and he starts to tell you that if you want man's money you should find someone who will treat you well. Not only on the financial side but on the emotional as well. He slowly starts to touch your hand, and he leans so close you can smell his cologne. You are intoxicated by his smell, the closeness, and the alcohol you drank. When you realize that your boyfriend's father is in fact flirting with you start to flirt with him too.

You ask him if he knows how to take care of women. He plays your game, and he tells you that if you want to know you have to find out by yourself. You sit at the bar for another half an hour, you’re not allowed to have any more drinks only water, but when you beg John for a sip of his whiskey he gives in. He finds in very sensual how you drink from his glass, your lipstick leaving a mark on the glass and he wonders how your lipstick would look on his dick.

When you see your boyfriend talking and flirting with some other woman you have enough. You get up from your chair and you stand between John’s spread tights. He puts his hand on your lower back and starts to gently touch you. When you get close to him, he thinks that you are trying to kiss him but you only whisper asking if you’ve been good girl and if he will finally take care of you.

He walks you to some bedroom on the upper floor when the guests are not allowed, and the moment he closes the door behind you, he pines you to the wall. He kisses you like a hungry man, he’s tongue is immediately in your mouth, and he lifts you, so your legs are around his waist. He gropes your ass, squeezing and slapping and you’re getting so wet. You start to grind on him, feeling his bulge through his pants. You can feel how hard he is getting and how big he is. After he is done kissing you, he moves to your neck. He leaves there so many hickeys and little bruises from biting, and you know that he is marking what is his.

John gently places you on the bed and he starts to work on undressing you. When you are only in bra and panties, he takes a second, like he is enjoying the view, imagining what will happen next. You beg his to not tease you, to already do something, and when he finally takes your underwear off he spreads you legs and looks at your pussy. He asks you if his son ever eaten you out, and when you tell him no, you hear him say that he will make it up to you.

You hear him say how nice and wet you are for him, and he starts to gently bite your inner thighs. He slowly works his way to your centre and when he licks your clit you know you wont last long. John sucks and licks and when he adds his finger, slowly pushing in you, you start to feel your orgasm approaching. He fingers you with one hand, adding another finger, stretching you and with the other one he starts to massage your tits and when he pinches your nipple you come.

After that he slowly unbuttons his shirt, he unzips his pants, and he takes his boxers off. He grabs your ankles, and he pulls you to the side of the bed. John touches your nipples between his fingers, pinching them hard, and when you gasp you hear him laugh and say “So fucking sensitive for me.” His hands then slips under your legs and he spreads you wider for him.

He wants to fuck you raw, he doesn’t care if you are on birth control or not, he needs to feel your wet pussy around his cock. He starts to slide his tip between your fold teasing you. Then slowly he pushes in. You feel the stretch and you are very glad that he took his time preparing you for this. You feel so full of him as he pushes his way deeper and deeper. Once he is settled all the way in, he starts to pull out. His trusts are slow but rough,

John puts almost all his way on you as he starts to kiss you again. His hands are holding your legs as he fucks you. He puts your nipple in his mouth gently sucking and biting while his cock is pounding at your cervix. You fell him so deep, and you know that he is ruining you for any other man. The sex with his son couldn’t compared to this.

It doesn’t take long for you to be approaching your orgasm again. His hands are on your hips holding you still while he fastens the tempo, and you can feel, that he is close too. “That’s it come for me, be a good girl” you hear him say as he starts to rub your clit again. That’s when you come again, spasming on his cock milking him dry.

He cum inside of you, you can feel him throbbing as he spills his load inside. He doesn’t pull out, he just shifts your position so now he is laying on the bed and you are on his chest his dick still inside of you. When you try to get off him, he grips you harder and you can’t move. “I may not be 25 anymore but I still can give you another round” you hear him say. You can feel him getting harder in you again and you know, that you will be here for quite some time. “Now be a good girl and show me how can you ride my cock”

You just hope that your boyfriend won’t come looking for you.

Part two Masterlist You can support my work here : ko-fi

#call of duty #cod #john price #john price x reader #rosiereveries #task force 141 #john price x f!reader #john price x you #captain john price #cod x reader

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pedroscowgirl · 3 months ago

Text

Guilty as sin

Professor! Joel × fem college student!reader (series)

MASTERLIST /Part 2

Warnings: smut so minors dni!

flirting, teasing, age gap (reader is her 20s and joel in his late 40s), fingering, squirting, infidelity (joel is married) , no use of y/n, joel being an asshole towards the end, forbidden romance

Lmk if I forgot something!

wc: 3.2k

A/n: okay so i actually started writing this over a year ago and just finished it today cuz i finally had some inspiration. So if you notice a difference in the writing, don't mind it pls

Joel Miller is the epitome of rugged charm, the kind of man who effortlessly commands a room with his presence. To you, he's the sexiest man alive, an intoxicating blend of intellect and masculinity. Attending his classes became more than just an academic obligation, it was a guilty pleasure, an excuse to indulge in the sight of him. Joel was undeniably alluring,his maturity and confidence set him apart from your other professors. Yet, a glint of reality kept you grounded. The shiny glimmer of a wedding ring on his strong, veiny hand, was a constant reminder of boundaries you couldn't cross.

Your daydreams were interrupted when your friend pulled you back to reality. "Hey, it's break time. Stop ogling that old man and let's go to the bathroom," she teased with a knowing laugh. "He's not that old," you protested, feeling a flush of embarrassment. She arched an eyebrow skeptically. "Please, he could be your father." You sighed, reluctantly tearing yourself away from thoughts of him.

As you walked toward the bathroom, fate had you crossing paths with Joel. His presence was magnetic, drawing your eyes to him. You couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have those capable, veiny hands on you, exploring the curves he seemed to discreetly notice. Yet, despite the heat in his gaze, he seemed the kind of man who wouldn't stray, loyal to a fault, and unlikely to be interested in someone so much younger.

Still, you couldn't ignore the way his eyes lingered on you as you passed, nor the surge of confidence it gave you. You knew you looked good in those jeans, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he was thinking about you as much as you were about him.

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A week went by, and u had an appointment with another professor just before your class with joel miller. You had a busy day ahead because your friends wanted to go out after class. And since u didn't have time for changing clothes, you just wore your going outfit the whole day. You wore black thigh high boots with a jeans miniskirt and a sexy black cutout top. And on top of that you wore your long leather jacket to cover you up.

Your appointment with your professor went well and when u walked out, u decided to take the elevator since u were on the 5th floor and were wearing heels. You pushed the button on the elevator and to your suprise, you saw professor miller standing in it.

Your heart started to race like crazy. You greeted him with a smile and got into the elevator. "Good afternoon" he said and u were getting so hot. "Good afternoon, professor Miller." You answered and he smiled "you don't need to call me professor miller. Just call me joel." You laughed and said "that's a little strange but if u insist."

The elevator was now on the 3rd floor and you felt his gaze on you. Your jacket was open cuz you were in a hurry and u awkwardly smiled and said "I'm going somewhere after your class so I'm a little overdressed right now. I swear I'm not being inappropriate on purpose." He laughed and was a little taken by suprise by your random statement. "That's fine. I assume you're a grown woman since you're in college and there are no dress codes here. So no need to worry about it. And you look great." You blushed and got even hotter because you didn't think he would say that.

And suddenly the elevator stopped out of nowhere. You grabbed his arm when you almost fell and quickly took it back and apologised when u stood still again. "Don't be sorry. I guess we're stuck here now. But don't worry I'll call someone." The way he was so calm and easy going turned you on so much. You wished you could just take him right here and now. Cuz you needed him so badly.

"Are you a student of mine?" He asked after he was done calling for help. He knew you were a student of his but he didn't wanna sound like a creep and make you uncomfortable. He also just didn't want to stand in silence the whole time. "Oh uh yes I am" you smiled and he smiled aswell. "Do you like the course?" He asked. "Yes it's actually one of my favourites. I love going to your class. You explain everything so well." He smirked a little and said "I bet you say this to all your professors." And winked at you. The wetness in your pants grew bigger and your heart raced faster.

"Oh what's your name? It's so rude of me not to ask." He said and you laughed and said your name. "That's a beautiful name." "I bet you say that to all your students." You smiled. "I actually thought of naming my daughter that way" he spoke and now it's confirmed. He really is a dilf. Which made it so much more intimidating for you. A married man is one thing, but a married man with kids? Oh you had no chance. The dissapointment was spread over your face and joel furrowed his brows. "Are you okay?" You snapped out of your thoughts and smiled at him. "Oh yes I'm fine sorry. "What's her name" you asked politely. "Her same is Sarah." He smiled and you smiled aswell. "That's a cute name."

A silence filled the room and suddenly the elevator doors went open. "Oh finally" He said and you sighed. You're happy to not be stuck anymore but at the same time, you were dissapointed that your little moment with your professor ended. The elevator stopped halfway so you had to climb up to the floor to get out of there. The man on the other side told you to grab his hand but you struggled. You looked at joel with an akward smile and he said "I'll help you, don't worry."

You gasped when you felt his hands on your thighs. It sent a spark to your core and blood rushed to your cheeks. He was so strong which made him even hotter which you didn't even know was possible.

You both got out of the elevator and went to the class. He opened the door for you and you looked for your friend. When you finally saw her, you smiled. But her eyes were wide and she was staring at your outfit. You sat next to her and she asked where you were. "Oh I was stuck in the elevator with Mr Miller." You casually said and she giggled. "You were stuck? In the elevator? With your crush?" She said and you nodded and blushed again.

"Sorry I was late. I was stuck in the elavator" joel said into his mic and smiled at you. You couldn't concentrate for the rest of the lecture. You kept thinking about his thick fingers grabbing your thighs." It was the first time that you were not paying attention in his class. Well at least not on the subject.

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Weeks had passed, and you found yourself lingering after class more often than necessary. At first, it was subtle,an extra question here, a slight delay in gathering your things there. But soon, it became deliberate. The way you stole glances at him from across the room, the way your fingers grazed his desk when you spoke to him, the way you shifted in your seat when he was lecturing.

And you noticed something else, too. He was looking.

He was careful,but his eyes betrayed him. They flickered down your legs when you crossed them, lingered a fraction too long when your blouse dipped just slightly. It made something burn in your lower stomach, knowing that your presence affected him.

So you got bolder. Wearing miniskirts, fitted tops, lingering touches. Each time, his restraint was evident, his jaw tight, his voice even. But then you noticed the big bulge in his pants and it made your mouth water.

And it was that thought that propelled you to his office that afternoon. Your heart pounded in your chest, though you wouldn’t dare let it show. You knocked lightly, already knowing he was inside.

“Come in,” his voice rumbled through the door.

You stepped in, the door shutting behind you with a soft click. He looked up from his desk, and for a brief moment, he seemed almost caught off guard. His gaze swept over you, your short skirt, the backless top revealing smooth skin, the lack of straps on your shoulders and most of all, your hardend nipples. You could've used some nipple covers to wear but gathered i'd be more fun this way.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Uh—hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “Sit down, please.”

You did as he asked, slowly crossing one leg over the other as you settled into the chair. His eyes darted downward before he forced them back up, and you bit back a smirk.

“I just had a few things I wanted to go over,” you started, keeping your tone light, innocent. As if you didn’t notice the way his fingers twitched on the desk, the way his shoulders tensed.

“Yeah?” he leaned back, but the movement felt more like a defense mechanism than anything else.

You nodded, tilting your head slightly. “Just some things about the last assignment.”

He exhaled sharply, nodding as he grabbed a pen—something to do with his hands, something to focus on that wasn’t you. “Alright. What’s confusing you?”

You leaned forward slightly, closing the space between you. “Well, I was thinking…”

And as you spoke, you could feel the tension tighten, coil, waiting for something—anything—to snap.

When the discussion about school finally came to an end, you stood from your seat, smoothing your skirt as you reached for the door handle. Joel stood as well, guiding you toward the exit, his presence towering behind you. Just as your fingers curled around the handle, his voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

The word was sharp, almost involuntary, and you turned your head slightly, catching the conflicted expression on his face. His jaw clenched, eyes dark, as if waging an internal war with himself. He cursed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck before finally exhaling a breath that seemed to carry every ounce of restraint he had left.

“I can’t—” he started, then shook his head. “I shouldn’t—”

But then he looked at you again, really looked at you, and something in him snapped.

Before you could respond, he reached for you, one hand wrapping around your waist as the other cradled your jaw. And then his lips were on yours—hot, urgent, desperate. The kiss stole the breath from your lungs, the heat of it searing into your skin as you melted into him.

You barely had a moment to react before he lifted you, guiding you onto his desk with ease. His hands splayed over your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he slotted himself between your legs, deepening the kiss with a hunger that had clearly been building for far too long.

The papers on his desk crumpled beneath you, forgotten, as his hands roamed and explored every inch of you.

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?”

Joel’s voice was low, thick with restraint as he hovered over you, his rough hands brushing along the hem of your skirt. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable, something dangerous. You didn’t hesitate, didn’t second-guess it—you just nodded.

“Yes, Professor.”

That title alone made his breath hitch. His fingers curled around the fabric of your skirt, slowly pushing it up until he could see the lacy pink panties you’d worn just for him. A little bow sat at the waistband, an innocent contrast to the filthy thoughts running through his mind.

His tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he let out a quiet chuckle. “Well, ain’t that just the cutest thing.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you met his gaze with a slow, teasing smile. He dragged his calloused fingers up your inner thighs, watching your body react under his touch, watching the way your breath hitched as he finally pulled the thin fabric down your legs.

He licked his fingers and you stopped him. His brows furrowed as he looked up at you, confused.

“There’s no need for that, Professor,” you said, voice sultry and dripping with need. “I’ve been wet since the day I met you.”

Joel let out a low groan, shaking his head as he chuckled. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

His fingers lowered, trailing through your slick heat, feeling just how ready you were for him. The moment he pushed a finger inside, your body clenched around him, making him curse under his breath.

“Yeah, you’re right, sweetheart. You are very wet for me.” His voice was deep, wrecked with desire. “Such a naughty girl.”

A desperate whimper left your lips, your back arching as he curled his thick finger inside you. “Hmm, Professor… feels so good…”

Joel groaned, his free hand gripping your thigh to keep you still. “Gosh, I love when you call me that.”

He pushed another finger in—this time, the one with his ring on it. The cool metal pressed against your warm, sensitive clit, making you shudder from the contrast in temperature. The thought of him touching you like this, fingers deep inside you while that simple wedding band glinted under the dim light, sent a rush of pleasure through you.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t be spread out for your hot, married professor, letting him fuck you with his fingers on his desk, but God, it felt too damn good.

And the way he was looking at you—like he was absolutely wrecked, like he couldn’t get enough—made it impossible to stop.

His fingers moved faster, curling inside you, dragging against that sweet spot with perfect precision. The wet sounds filled the office, obscene and sinful, but neither of you cared. If anything, it made him work you even harder, his wrist flexing, his palm pressing against your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

Your stomach twisted, pleasure winding tighter and tighter, ready to snap. You could barely breathe, barely form a coherent thought, just a trembling mess beneath his skilled hands.

“P-p-professor, I-I’m gonna—”

Your body seized up as the orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your nails dug into his arm, desperate to ground yourself as your release gushed out, soaking his hand, his wrist, even splattering onto his shirt. Your vision blurred as you cried out, thighs shaking violently, every nerve in your body set ablaze.

Joel groaned, voice low and wrecked, watching with fascination as you came completely undone. “Holy shit.”

His fingers didn’t stop, not even as your body convulsed and twitched from overstimulation. If anything, it made him move slower, more deliberate, dragging out every last wave of pleasure until you were nothing more than a trembling, panting mess on his desk. He loved it. Loved seeing you fall apart beneath him from just his fingers.

By the time he finally pulled out, you gasped at the sudden emptiness, your walls fluttering around nothing. The loss of contact sent a shiver through you, and you collapsed against his desk, completely spent.

The only sound in the room was the heavy rise and fall of both your breaths. The air was thick, humid with sex.

A few seconds passed before you finally sat up, still trying to gather your senses. Your voice was weak, hoarse when you muttered, “Fuck… that was my first time—”

Joel’s body tensed. His head snapped up, his dark eyes wide with panic. “This was your first time??” His voice cracked, full of disbelief and something close to fear.

You blinked at him, then let out a breathless laugh. “Oh my God, no,” you said, still catching your breath. “I was gonna say… it’s the first time I’ve ever orgasmed.”

Joel’s tense shoulders immediately dropped, and he let out a deep, relieved chuckle. His head fell back for a moment as he ran a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, darlin’, you scared the hell outta me.”

You smirked, tilting your head at him, amused by his reaction. “Didn’t mean to give you a heart attack, Professor.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head before giving you a knowing look. “Guess those college boys ain’t doin’ it for ya, huh?”

Your cheeks burned, but you bit your lip and shook your head. “Not even close.”

Joel’s lips curled up into a cocky little smirk, his eyes still dark with lingering desire. You could see it,he wanted more. He wanted to push you down onto that desk, spread you open, and take you apart all over again.

Your hands moved without thinking, trailing down his chest, over the fabric of his shirt, until they reached the thick outline of his cock straining against his jeans. He was still painfully hard. You pressed your palm against him, feeling the heat of it through the denim, watching the way his jaw clenched, his body tensing beneath your touch.

Encouraged by his reaction, you reached for his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle. But before you could undo it, his large, calloused hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

“Uhm… we shouldn’t do that,” he muttered, his voice suddenly hesitant.

You blinked, confused. “Why?”

Joel sighed, rubbing his free hand over his scruffy jaw. His voice was quieter now, almost like he was reminding himself as much as he was telling you. “I’m married. And I’m your professor.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “You sure as hell didn’t care when your ring was rubbin’ my clit.”

Joel flinched, his expression twisting into something conflicted. You could see it, the guilt creeping in, the weight of reality slamming back into him.

But it was too late for that.

Your chest tightened, a strange mix of anger and disappointment bubbling inside you. Just minutes ago, he was inside you, whispering dirty little praises in that deep Texas drawl, making you feel things you never thought possible. And now he was pulling away, acting like he suddenly had morals?

“Fuckin’ coward,” you muttered under your breath.

You yanked your wrist from his grip and slid off the desk, legs still shaky. Your panties were somewhere on the floor, but you didn’t bother looking for them. Instead, you grabbed your skirt, tugging it back into place with shaky hands.

Joel didn’t say anything. He just stood there, stiff and silent, watching you with a guilty look in his eyes.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before turning toward the door. “Y’know what, Professor?” you said bitterly, glancing at him one last time. “I hope she doesn’t fuck you either.”

And with that, you stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind you.

Joel exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face as he leaned back against his desk. His cock was still rock hard, his fingers still coated with your wetness, his shirt still stained with your release.

He should feel ashamed. He should feel regret.

But all he could think about was how badly he wanted to pull you back into his office and fuck you until you forgot your own damn name.

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