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majestyeverlasting · 6 months ago

Text

the moments in between

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Joel and Ellie arrive at the Jackson commune, his strong frame and intense gaze captivate you. But as the days pass, you lose hope that he might be drawn to you as well. That is, until the walls come crashing down and the truth finally reveals itself.

Word Count: 7.3k [slow burn]

A/N: I put a lot of love and time into this one. It's my longest fic so far but it didn't feel hard, which I like to believe is a good thing. Hope it resonates, hope you feel the feels and the yearning between these two—let me know! Hope you're well.

A breeze follows Tommy as he saunters in through the doors of the Tipsy Bison, the soft click of his boot heels echoing off the wood with each easy step. The cowboy hat on his head casts a shadow over his eyes until he takes it off, his dark hair cascading down over his ears. There’s a small smile playing on his lips that makes you narrow your eyes.

Cleaning the bartop suddenly loses its appeal, but you don’t stop, only slow down. The fresh, tangy scent of lemongrass continues to waft up from the motion.

“We close early on Sunday’s, officer,” you tease as he climbs onto a stool.

He frowns as he sets his hat aside. “I don’t look like a cop, do I?” You shrug, and he chuckles as his gaze roves over to the pool room. “Nate back there? Yo, Nate!”

“Evening, Tom,” the older man calls back as he polishes a cue ball.

“Joel’s made it into town.” There’s no overt emotion in the way he shares the news, but you can see that it’s all in his eyes as he waits for you to react.

“Joel, Joel? As in your brother?” He nods, still in disbelief himself. “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing, Tommy—right? What the heck.” He used to talk about him all the time.

His exhale makes way for a shaky smile, “I know. Made it in not too long ago with a young girl he’s looking after,” he tells you, voice thick with a mix of emotions. “He’s outside. Wanted to come in and see if you’d let us grab a drink.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Know it’s late. Promise I’ll make up for the trouble.” He knows it’s no trouble. Not when it comes to him.

He turns around, barstool squeaking, and waves Joel in through the window.

You move to start working on their whiskies. “Make it up by letting me be the baby’s godmother?” The glasses clink as you set them onto the bar and begin pouring the caramel colored liquid, smirking when you meet his gaze.

Tommy isn’t completely opposed to the idea. You’d been in Jackson since the beginning, a friend to him and Maria in every sense of the word. Arguably family. “If you can manage not to tick me off until the little one gets here.” Despite his words, his eyes are fond.

The door creaks open, and Joel strides in, scanning the room. There are pictures on the walls of American icons and landmarks, and old Polaroids of commune members. There’s a guarded confidence to the way he walks, an intensity.

Tommy quickly leans in and whispers, “He means well. It’s been a long day.”

Joel takes a seat beside his brother and acknowledges you with a curt nod, tugging on the collar of his shirt.

“Welcome to Jackson,” you greet, introducing yourself afterwards.

“Joel,” he says, taking you in with a steady gaze.

“Tommy’s told me a lot about you.” You push their glasses closer to them in an encouragement to start drinking.

Joel takes his first sip and fights back a reflexive grimace. It’s been a while, but it's good. Good enough to make him feel pleasantly warm as it glides down. Tommy drinks off his brother’s lead, and you realize just how alike they look. Joel’s hair is a little shorter and accented with streaks of gray, but they both have those same dark, telling eyes.

They fall into light conversation, but it’s clearly not what they'd talk about if they were alone. That’s when you sense the distance. The slight edge to the space between them. It’s why Tommy resorts to drawing you in, the two of you ripping off each other as Joel listens, fine with not having to speak until this whole little ordeal was winding to an end. However, he does sit up a little straighter whenever you laugh. You pour them more whiskey when their glasses get empty.

Eventually, the remaining light outside fades away. Tommy hisses at the sight, standing. “I gotta get home to Maria,” he says, stretching his back. Joel moves to get up too, until, “At least finish off this glass, man. You’ve earned it.” Tommy squeezes his brother’s shoulder. He means it genuinely, at least. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Joel. Thanks again for this,” he tells you.

“Bye, sheriff,” you call after him. Tommy scoffs.

Joel realizes just how quiet it is when you move aside to tinker with a bison trinket sitting on the counter, unsure of what to say with Tommy gone. He knows you can see him looking at you. “So, are you here by yourself?” he finally asks.

A playful smile tugs at your lips. “That’s not a creepy question at all,” you tease, quickly gathering that he doesn’t find the implication funny. “Uncle Nate?” you call.

“Busy!”

You raise your brows at Joel. “Not alone.”

Nate was chosen family. The man taught you everything you know about shooting, fishing, and survival even though you gave him a hard time for it when you were younger. He was also the founder of the Tipsy Bison. He only came into the bar on the weekends when he wasn't on patrol. His time in the military all those years ago made it hard to step away from a life of service.

“We were cleaning when Tommy came in,” you tell Joel. He takes in that information wordlessly.

“You aren’t much for talking, are you?” Joel takes a sip from his glass. “Nothing wrong with that. Must mean you don’t miss much. Really observant.” When he doesn’t respond, you smile shyly, realizing he probably just wanted to relax after a long day. “Guess I won’t stand here and talk your ears off.”

The floor creaks as you disappear into the recreation room with Nate, rounding the corner. Joel exhales, shoulders dropping from being drawn up. He almost misses your company.

Nate sits hunched over a word search puzzle, using the pool table as if it's a normal desk. He doesn’t look up at you, even when you give an affectionate tug to his curly gray ponytail. It was something you’d been doing since the days you both were out on your own and had to stay quiet all the time. Back when there was no safety, no security, no commune.

“Ouch,” he drones, unphased.

“Are you gonna come out and meet Tommy's brother?” you ask, low so Joel can’t hear. “I feel like you guys have a lot in common: brooding and grumpy.” Pride flutters in your chest when the man’s lips twitch.

“I’ll meet him… eventually. Gotta finish this puzzle.” You realize there’s a small hourglasses going, the sand swiftly filling the bottom portion. “There ya are—serendipity.” He circles the letters.

Word searches were something he recently started doing. When you have a past as extensive as his, it’s always chasing after you in one way or another. Especially in those quiet moments that sneak up on you. He claimed that seeking out words from amid an ordered chaos keeps the racing thoughts at bay whenever they come rushing in.

Joel is finished by the time you join him again, and you realize he’d waited instead of calling out. Already standing, ready to go.

“Anything else I can get you?”

He shakes his head. “I appreciate your hospitality.”

Joel turns to leave but you keep talking, “So I reckon Tommy already squared you away with a house and a tour of the town?”

He stops. “I’m across the street from him. Gettin’ the tour tomorrow.”

“That’s great, I’m really glad you found us.” You sound so genuine that there’s a flutter in his gut. “We’re a pretty crazy bunch, but I think you’re gonna like it here.”

“Hope so.” Those are the words he leaves you with.

Your eyes stay trained on his back as he makes his way towards the door, stride the same as when he first arrived. Perhaps a little looser. Before he exits the bar, his eyes catch a glimpse of one of the decorative license plates secured to the wall: Austin, Texas.

Shortly after he makes it outside, his heart rate ticks up in that impending way he wishes wasn’t so familiar, breath catching in his throat as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. There’s no escaping the panic as it sets in, surging through him. A few staggering steps allow him to brace a hand on a wooden directory board.

You see it all from inside. At first, you think he’s trying to read the sign, but then he hunches over more and grips his chest. Without thinking, you jog towards the doors.

“Joel?” You call once you’ve broken outside.

It’s a cool spring night, a crescent moon shares its pale glow from above. Most of Jackson is already tucked away inside or at least halfway there. But in this sliver of time, it feels like it’s just the two of you outside. Joel doesn’t let on that he’d heard you, but the moment you’re close enough, you recognize what’s going on. You press your palm to his back to let him know you’re there. That he’s still here.

“Concentrate on your breathing. In and out, just like that,” you encourage, settling on rubbing his back in measured passes. Then you go quiet on the off chance he needs that.

In your newfound silence, Joel is forced to focus on the shaky breaths rising from his lungs. That’s when he accepts he’s not in control. Not in the grand scheme of things. There’s a whole big fallen world just outside the gates of this haven. A world that had taken people he loved and was cruel enough to let him be the one who lived to tell the tale. The heat that rises to his cheeks is made up of frustration more than distress, crackling like pop. Like coals.

The ground takes on a vignette as he stares at it, his vision briefly closes in. You never withdraw your touch.

When his breaths eventually begin to steady, you remember how to breathe yourself. With a tired exhale, he straightens back up to his full height, and you take a few small steps away. Maybe this wasn’t new, but a fact of life for the man who’d rode into Jackson in an air of mystery and a young girl by his side. Maybe he never wanted you to get a glimpse at this side of him. If he feels that way, he doesn’t make it obvious. He almost looks appreciative that you’d bothered enough to care.

“Sorry to scare you,” he rasps, not meeting your gaze even though he can feel it. You want to tell him that there isn’t much that scares you anymore. At least that’s what you like to believe. “I’m usually alone.”

Except, tonight, he wasn’t. And maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing.

•••

Howdy Stranger

This is Jackson Hole

The last of the Old West

Joel reads the painted wooden sign as Tommy and Maria show him and Ellie around. There are people everywhere. Children playing outside, adults fluttering in and out of shops. All while the Teton mountains loom and watch over it all with their snow-capped peaks. He looks over at the girl when she nudges his arm, pointing to a Calico lounging on a porch. Despite her beaming smile, all he offers is a low hum.

It was hard to be in the now when his thoughts were split between the past and future. Up until Jackson, there was no such thing as stability, and he couldn’t help but think about the day that the rug would be pulled from beneath the commune as well. Ellie’s smile fades when she notices the harsh squint of his face. He kicks himself for it.

“Cat hater,” she mumbles under her breath.

Joel grunts and directs his attention back to his brother.

When the tour comes to an inevitable end, Ellie sings Jackson’s praises after Tommy and Maria go their separate ways with a promise to reconnect later that day. He lets her talk as they make their way back to their new house, idly agreeing every once in a while. A few curious eyes fall on them as they walk, but Joel doesn’t pay them any mind.

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Ellie stops walking to give him a flat look.

“I hear you,” he insists. “Been hearing you for the past ten minutes.”

There’s no snark in his tone, but Ellie still feels the slight sting of offense. “Well, sorry for being excited about having a nice place to live for once. It’s not like I was born into hell or anything—I mean the Boston QZ.” Sarcasm drips from her voice as she starts walking again, faster so it looks like they’re not together.

Joel swallows down guilt like it’s just another pill. His legs are long, so it doesn’t take much to catch back up with her.

“Hey…Kid…Ellie.” She keeps ignoring him. “This is new for me too, okay? Everybody’s got a different way of processing, can we agree on that?” It’s a fair enough proposal. He never had been forward when it came to sharing his thoughts. “Wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmurs, deciding to take a break from her rambling for his sake. The mutual silence isn’t so bad.

Someone he isn’t expecting to see is you. You’re wearing a backpack and ushering a line of young kids into the community center. One of the little girls stops and stretches her arms up towards you, earning a playful eyeroll before being lifted onto your hip. Joel doesn’t miss the way the afternoon sunlight catches your face.

•••

The next day, a faint thump against the door startles Ellie as she sketches in the dining room. Rather than getting up from the table, she remains still, pencil in hand and brows furrowed. Upstairs, the spray of the shower continues as Joel lets it drown out everything else. Three light knocks eventually sound, and she musters up the courage to scurry to the front.

She peeks out the window first, spotting you. Someone she hadn’t seen around. An amused smile pulls at her lips at the way you’ve seemingly wrestled the big basket you’re holding into a better grip than before.

When she opens the door, you let out a relieved sigh. “Special delivery,” you say before introducing yourself.

“That’s a really pretty name,” she compliments, already warming up to you. “I’m Ellie—is all that stuff for us?” When you nod, she excitedly steps aside and ushers you in.

“I’m not gonna say you shouldn’t have because that’d be a lie,” she shamelessly admits. “You can put it right over here.” You follow her into the living room and place the welcome basket on the coffee table.

A few of the ladies you volunteer with helped you put it together after your shift counseling for the spring break camp. There were cookies, seeds, natural soaps, feminine hygiene products, and even a knit blanket that looked particularly soft and cozy. Ellie wastes no time reaching out to run her fingers over it. A laugh bubbles up your throat when her jaw drops.

“This is literally what clouds feel like.” She haphazardly pulls the blanket out the basket, wrapping it around herself like a cape. “If Joel says anything, this was specifically included for me.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to share if he asked nicely,” you reason, amused. Ellie’s nose wrinkles. “But to be fair, we did think you’d be the one to really appreciate it.”

She smiles at being considered. “Who made it? This is, like, next level.”

“A woman named Emilia,” you tell her. “She actually made me one back when Jackson was first being built up that I still have,” you tell her, taking a seat on the couch and looking around. The evening sunlight pours in through the windows, casting golden streaks onto the floors. “Now she’s always got a few on standby.”

Ellie sits beside you, reaching out to dig through the other contents in awe. “They told us the commune's only, like, seven years old on our tour yesterday,” she recounts. Think you’ll have your blanket forever?”

“Forever’s an awful long time. It might hold up,” you think aloud. Ellie nods, contemplative. “I can take you by to meet her sometime, if you’d like. She’s the resident seamstress, so you’ll probably end up crossing paths anyways.”

“What about you? What do you do?” she asks, giving you her full attention.

“I mainly help coordinate community events. Been stepping in to assist with the youth spring break camp for the last couple days, though,” you say. “Also bartend on the nights that I feel like it. Just for fun, you know?”

Ellie's face lights up. “I’ve had whiskey before.” She puffs out her chest when she says it, and you play into her pride by raising an impressed brow. The first and last time you had a sip was when you snuck it from Nate as a teen. “But that’s really cool, though. The community stuff and all that.” You can tell by her tone that she means it. In more ways than one, you’re reminded of your younger self.

“Joel’s gonna join the patrol. He says I’m too young, but that’s just bullshit.” She says the last part lower as if he’s somewhere listening. “I’ll figure out a way to make him cave.” There’s an air of confidence to her voice that suggests she’s done it before. The thought warms a tiny portion of your chest.

“I’ve gone out with my uncle Nate a few times. It can be a lot,” you admit. “He just wants you safe, Nate’s the same way.”

As Joel stops at the top of the staircase, freshly showered, he catches those last words. He’d know your voice even if it’d been forever. His footsteps are quiet as he descends the stairs, but you hear him coming nevertheless. Ellie’s too busy sniffing the pine soap as you straighten up and glance his way. Joel’s eyes are as observant as you remember when they land on you, seeing into you, it seems. His damp hair is combed back in a way that makes him look more distinguished.

“There you are.” You stand up with a smile. You’d been wondering how he was doing since the panic attack.

He wishes your warmth wasn't so compelling.

Ellie whips around to look at him. “I know you said not to open the door to strangers—which is practically everybody at this point—but she’s really nice and brought us gifts so you can’t be mad at me,” she rushes out. He clocks the blanket around her shoulders.

He hmphs. “That’s how they get you.” He’s not being serious, but Ellie frowns, trying to read through his eternal poker face. “Treats and a friendly smile.” Your lips twitch in amusement as Ellie narrows her eyes.

When Joel starts walking your way, she consoles herself with the fact that he would've already asked you to leave if he sensed your intentions were off. The commune wasn’t filled with questionable people like that anyways. The two of them didn’t have to be apprehensive of every soul they came across anymore.

He’s close enough now that you can smell the cedar soap on his skin. “I’m not a stranger,” you lightly defend. “Not entirely.” You look from Ellie to Joel.

A wall rises in real time, shutting you out right along with the night you met. It happens in his eyes just like everything does. He hadn’t mentioned you to her, and it was your mistake for believing he would’ve at least passed on a name.

You swallow back a small lump in your throat that may not be entirely just. “Anyways, hopefully you guys will be able to put this stuff to use.”

“Of course we will,” Ellie pipes up. “Are you leaving already?” She hadn’t missed the finality that had crept into your tone.

You nod. “Don’t wanna take up too much of your evening. I actually meant to come by sooner.”

“Well, are you going to the dining hall for dinner?” Her gaze flicks to Joel. “Maybe you can come with us.”

Joel knows he’s in trouble when he hears the fondness in Ellie’s voice. It’s the same sentiment he was straining to tamper down within himself. Every time he opened his mouth or looked at you, it tried to claw its way to the forefront. The last thing he needed was another person getting close enough to see that he was a million tiny pieces being held together by the glue of whatever god was keeping him alive.

You decline her invitation, expressing plans to go to your uncle’s place. But you give her a rain check. When you go to leave, Joel allows his eyes to flitter down the rest of your body.

That wouldn’t be the last he saw of you. But it was always from afar, lingering on the outskirts. Wishing there was a seamless way he could fall into your orbit without sending everything spiraling out of control.

You were always looking right back at him with hope in your eyes, holding space. Waiting for your world to be shaken.

•••

Laughter, chatter, and music drown out the insects that usually take precedence at night. Weeks of planning had finally come into fruition. All of Main Street is lined with fairy lights that cast their warm glow down on the summer festival. There was no shortage of entertainment, games, and food. It was a time to let loose and relish the sweetness in the air along with that of life.

Nate plays his harmonica for a group of children around the bonfire, all clapping and stomping along. A smile graces your face as you walk by, waving at him. The fullness of your heart almost overrides the ache that has settled in the arches of your feet. You’d barely sitten down since earlier that morning when preparation began. There was a sense of responsibility that came along with the orange vest you were dawned in. The pressure to assist, and guide, and answer questions wasn’t all on you, but the other volunteers were better at taking breaks.

Tommy’s grainy voice breaks into the air through a megaphone, “Thirteen-and-up three-legged races starting in five minutes, this is your last call. Grab a partner and make your way over to the east lawn,” he says. “Again, this is the last call.”

Joel and Ellie already happen to be seated at a picnic table that gives them a perfect view of the race setup and Tommy facilitating in an orange vest of his own. Ellie had already worked through her first honey cake and was eyeing Joel’s. He pretends not to notice until she looks up at him all wide-eyed.

“Can I—” he slides his plate over to her. “Thanks.”

“Your eyes are bigger than your stomach,” he lightly accuses, shaking his head.

“What does that even mean?” She takes a bite. “Weirdo.”

Joel just grumbles and tosses a napkin her way. She wipes her mouth and keeps staring at him. Not because she’s waiting for an answer, but because there’s amusement sparkling in his eyes. Which happens more often now that they’d had a couple months to settle into Jackson. A laugh was coming, she could feel it.

“Quit gawking at me and eat.” There’s a tell-tale waver in his voice.

“No.” Ellie lightly kicks his shin beneath the table and that’s what sets him off.

He tries to bite back a chuckle, but he gives in when it doesn’t work out, shoulders shaking. Ellie starts grinning at him from across the table, and he kicks her back with the tip of his boot.

“Hey!” She breaks into giggles and retaliates. He lets her have the little victory.

A small smile lingers on his face when he regains his composure. They sit in a comfortable silence as Ellie finishes the rest of her dessert, taking in the festivities around them.

It isn’t long before a girl with dark hair approaches their table. She’s a ball of masked nerves. “Hi,” she greets. “Ellie, right?” She says it as if it’s possible for her to have forgotten. As if after they sat together at last week’s movie night, she hadn’t been thinking about her since.

Ellie get’s uncharacteristically squirmy. “Oh. Hey, Dina.”

Joel can’t believe it.

Dina tucks a flyaway behind her ear. “My old partner bailed, so I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna do the three-legged race with me. I think we’d make a better team anyways.” Then she glances at Joel. “If you wouldn’t mind me stealing her away for a bit.”

“Take her,” Joel quips, making Dina laugh.

Warmth rushes to Ellie’s cheeks as she stands. “Sure, let’s go.”

The two of them jog over to get prepped for the race. Joel watches the whole while, warmth kindling in his chest at the fact that she was slowly finding her tribe. The race doesn’t start for another couple minutes, and when it does, Ellie and Dina burst off into first. It’s intense. The whole ordeal is a mess of laughter, stumbling, and flailing limbs. In the end, the duo end up placing second, crossing the finish line only to fall into a heap of giggles with their legs tied together.

Joel stands from the picnic table with a grunt to throw away all the empty plates. He has every intention to sit back down, but notices a few frazzled volunteers carrying mops and towels. Then his eyes rove over to the long line standing at the drink stands. Adults check their watches, children fidget. A woman in an orange vest is talking to another woman managing the stand. He doesn’t realize is you until you turn away from her and beeline towards the community center, looking stressed.

“Hey,” he calls out to a stout man wearing an apron. “Do you know what’s going on?”

He’s surprised Joel caught on. Everyone else was carrying on as usual, carefree and unaware. “There was a spill at the community center. You know Mr. Robertson’s special Summer Fest punch?” he asks in a thick Brooklyn accent, Joel nods because he’d heard the rave. Apparently it was made especially for the festival. “Kitchen’s flooded with it. I didn’t have time to build an ark,” he jokes.

Joel wrestles with himself. “I’ll go see if I can help.”

By the time you exit the community center, gaze fixed over your shoulder, you crash into Joel. He instinctively reaches out to steady you, touch firm but gentle. “Whoa, easy there.” The low timbre of his drawl is enough to draw your mind away from all the noise. “You alright? Here, let’s get out of the way.” You let him pull you aside by your elbow.

When you look into his eyes, there’s so many things you wish it was the appropriate time to say. It’s been cordial between the two of you, but it always seemed like he was in a constant state of backing away, like an animal scared of giving into a primal craving.

There was always a reason why he couldn’t stay in your presence longer than he did. He had to get back to Ellie, or turn in early for his patrol shift the next day, or some other excuse. Even during the game nights you hosted, he would always leave before his belly was full and the real fun was about to begin. When everyone was finally free of the day’s worries and truly ready to talk, laugh, and let everything ride on the toss of a dice.

He’d resigned himself to enjoying you in the little here and there, the moments in between. So much so that even Ellie had begun to notice. It was in the way he never allowed himself to lean in too close whenever you were at his side. Or never fully crawled out of his shell no matter how many times you smiled sweetly or let your fingertips brush his forearm.

“Does anything hurt?” He asks more intently. As he scans you over, he notices your clothes. The lower portion of your vest and the thighs of your flared jeans are stained with a wet, dark substance.

“I’m fine, Joel.” You pull away from him with more force than necessary, feeling guilty for the way he swallows and takes a step back. “Sorry.” You release a heavy exhale, tears welling in your eyes with a dull sting. “I’m ruining everyone’s night.”

Joel frowns. “No you’re not. Tell me what happened.”

“I was trying to transfer the extra beverage dispenser onto the wagon so I could wheel it out to the drink stand, but it slipped out of my grip,” you explain. “The lid came off and the punch spilled everywhere.” You wipe your tears away quickly, as if they’ll stain too.

“Accidents happen,” Joel’s tone is steady like scripture, tenderness peeking through just enough to cling onto. “Everybody’s fine. The world's still turning.”

Nobody had reacted in an extreme manner. There were gasps and startled jumps, but assurances came rushing in as the janitorial volunteers insisted that they’d get everything cleaned up. Everyone in that kitchen knew that there were worse things in life than spilled juice. Sure, it was upsetting, considering the time Mr. Robertson spent and the people looking forward to drinking more, but it was a small mistake in the grand scheme of things. But when your heart is already heavy and your mind is tangled with other concerns, those little mishaps feel like the most devastating ones.

There was a directness about Joel, though, that eased away the guilt crawling beneath your skin. It was like he understood what screwing up truly was and this was many light years from it.

Dina spots Joel in the distance and points him out to Ellie. “There he is over there.”

Their smiles fall from their faces when they get closer and realize you’re crying. “Holy shit, what happened?” Ellie looks between you and Joel, worry etched onto her face.

“I just made a stupid mistake.” You sniffle, trying to regain your composure, not wanting to worry them. There was always something unavoidably daunting about seeing adults cry.

“You girls stay here with her for a second. I’ll be right back,” Joel instructs.

A new song starts up by the live band that’s playing. It’s an instrumental rendition of Every Breath You Take. A decent crowd has gathered, nibbling on sourdough and nodding to the melody. Some people are wrapped in each other’s arms. Joel soaks it all in as he navigates back to the racing lawn.

Tommy claps him on the back when he makes it and Joel returns the gesture. “You enjoying yourself, man?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah,” he says distractedly. “There was a spill at the community center, so no more punch. You think you can get everybody on the same page?”

“Copy that.”

Tommy’s voice carries through the megaphone as Joel makes his way back to you, the announcement fading with each step.

“Howdy, folks. Some of you may have already heard, but in case you haven’t, there’s been a little spill and we are unfortunately all out of Mr. Robertson’s world famous punch for the night. We apologize if you didn’t get the chance to try it, but I promise we’ll figure out a way to make it up to y'all. In the meantime, I heard the lemonade and ice tea ain’t half bad.”

His words blur into the background as Joel makes it back to you. There are a few disappointed groans, but nobody is completely devastated by the news. They keep carrying on just as he knew they would.

Tears no longer streak your face when Joel makes it back, Ellie and Dina seeming to have lifted your spirits a little more.

“Do you wanna go get cleaned up?” Joel suggests.

Now that you’re thinking about it, the feeling of your clothes sticking to your skin is beginning to grow uncomfortable. You take a deep breath at the thought of walking home, away from Summer Fest, all the energy, all the fun. Joel sees the disappointment on your face.

“I can go with you,” he offers.

•••

The walk to your house is quiet, the sounds of the night's festivities now distant. The porch steps creak gently under your weight as the two of you ascend them. Joel watches as you unlock the door, but finds himself cemented as you step inside. Confusion, appreciation, frustration, and want are all amalgamated into one look directed right his way. Without saying a word, you head further inside, leaving the door open.

Joel’s hands twitch at his sides like he’s a live wire wrought with energy. Bugs would fly in if he didn’t do something—that’s the justification he creates. You’re halfway to the laundry room when you hear the front door shut behind him as he follows after you.

The living room is illuminated by dim lamplight as he walks through. A quick glance into the kitchen gives him sight of one of Ellie’s more recent drawings stuck to the refrigerator door with a smiley face magnet. It's a portrait of your face that you agreed to sit for one lazy afternoon while Joel was away on patrol.

The air smells like you. Understated and sweet, floral and earthen. Small plants line multiple windowsills despite how convinced you were that you couldn’t keep anything alive. The whole commune would be worse off without you and he’d be the first to wilter away.

At the sound of a zipper and clothes brushing against skin, he stops his pursuit of you. Miles away even though you’re mere yards apart. All he has is your shadow, dancing in the dim light pooling out of the laundry room and into the hall with him. He backs himself into the cool wall and closes his eyes, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Up and down and up again. An SOS in the middle of a sea when salvation was right within reach. It gets quiet after a while. No more running water, or cabinet doors, or shuffling around.

“You can let me in, you know?” comes your voice, so light it’s almost nothing. Joel releases a shaky breath and opens his eyes to the sight of you, dawned in old shorts and a graphic tee. You wish he would say something, anything. Share a fraction of what’s going on in his mind. “I’m right here, Joel.”

“I know. I see you.” There’s a defensive edge to his voice that’s wounded around the edges, as if he’s trying to accommodate the truth that burns within his ribcage, his stomach, beneath the entirety of his skin.

“So now what?” You swallow your nerves, studying his face, his neck. “We’re just gonna keep seeing each other for the rest of our lives and that’s it? No knowing, no feeling, no experiencing?” You ask. “No loving?”

One by one, the walls close in, until it feels like you’re standing toe to toe with nothing but words as weapons and honesty being the only way out. It’s not a fight he’s ready for. He can trek through the harshest winters, fight off monsters and all manner of men, but he’s defenseless in front of you.

There will be no victory, no rising from battle with a bloodied fist or blade, or immediate relief akin to the coming of spring. The only way out is to dig within, and he already knew what resided there. It was a matter of carving it out and laying it on an altar for you to see as you did the same. It’s not a fight at all, it's a sacrifice. All risk with probable reward.

“I don’t want that to be all that we do.” You’ve never heard Joel speak so quietly. It’s as if there’s Infected lurking nearby and he doesn’t want to be devoured. “Think about you too much.”

“I was starting to think you didn’t like me at all. Not like how I like you,” you say.

Joel swallows thickly, warm all over. “How do you like me?”

You push out of the laundry room doorway to step closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, the beating of his heart. You let it thrum against your palm until a shallow breath slips past his lips, then you move to cup his stubbled jaw, lightly brushing your thumb over his lower lip. The urge to touch you back grows so great that he finally gives in and lets both of his strong hands settle on your waist.

Joel can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he leans in towards you, studying your face, searching for any sign that this might be some elaborate ruse. Instead, he finds something so poignant that he doesn’t have the words to define. It’s as terrifying as it is wonderful to, for once, be unable to size up what he’s up against.

You close the space in between you with a softness that takes his breath away. Bared heart meeting bared heart. Joel’s lips are gentle and unhurried, every second savored and not a single one missed. You try to focus but it feels like you’re falling and flying all at once. Then his fingers dig into your waist a little harder, a silent plea to stay there with him, the warmth of his kiss, the firmness of his body as he pulls you closer.

Your hands find their way to the back of his neck to play with the hair curled at his nape. The kiss deepens not in urgency but a shared understanding. A promise sealed in the way your bodies fit together. And then, slowly, deliberately, Joel eases back, lips lingering on yours for a heartbeat longer until there’s a slight space in between again. Your breaths mingle as he rests his forehead against yours, thumb stroking tender circles on your waist.

When you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, wondering if you can feel that two worlds having converged into one, buzzing with a newness that’s as beautiful as all the words you’d kept bottled inside.

•••

It hadn’t taken much. Just a hug and a few soft kisses pressed to the underside of his jaw. When Joel’s grumbling finally subsided, it made way for the soothing ripple of the river. You’d settled along the bank and stretched out a few blankets when you first arrived. An hour seemed to pass in the matter of a few seconds, laughter, conversations and all. Now the sun creeps closer and closer to the horizon up in the ombre sky.

It wasn’t any fault of your own that you’d asked Joel if the date could extend a little longer. It’d been a month of getting to see him in this light, open and unguarded, generous with giving those slow, easy smiles. Willing to lay down across your lap like this when you asked sweetly enough.

The small mouth of a fish breaks the surface of the water as you trace along his hairline, disappearing by the time you run the pad of your finger down his nose. His lips twitch as he continues to ward off sleep. This time, there’s no stopping a soft laugh from rising up your throat. That’s all it takes for his eyes to flutter open, blinking until they’re able to focus on the soft upturn of your lips. No sooner do they avert to the sky, assessing the fleeting light.

“We gotta head back now,” his voice is gruff. When he moves to sit up, you place a delicate hand on the center of his chest and he settles back down with a sigh. “C’mon, sweetheart, the sun’s setting. I don’t want you out here in the dark.”

Packing up and riding back to the commune meant this moment would be resigned to a memory. “A few more minutes won’t hurt,” you insist.

Before Jackson and before you, every second was about enduring to the next. Life was an endless onwards, onwards, onwards reverberating through his veins. Slowing down was always a risk until you showed him that sometimes life’s most worthwhile moments were in the stillness. Somedays that was easier to remember than others, but he sure did put in an effort.

“I think you’re enjoying this more than I am anyways,” you tease. The corners of his lips quirk upwards before he can stop them.

You continue on like that, tracing his face, occasionally glancing up at the snow-capped peaks of the mountains. Then an animal catches your attention across the way, lean and tall with short antlers protruding from its head. You suck in a breath of pleasant surprise, and Joel startles upright thinking the worst. His shoulders relax when he sees the creature. It bends its neck down to nibble at something in the grass until deciding to gallop away.

“Just a mule deer.” He gives you a look.

“I know, sorry. I get excited.” You offer an apologetic smile and he's reminded of how beautiful you look in the light of the setting sun, features aglow. He doesn’t say anything, just soaks you in here and now. An airiness fills your chest.

He stands with a groan, extending a helping hand back down to you. When you’re steady on your feet, he takes your chin in one gentle hand and tilts your head back so he can align his lips with yours. The kiss is brief, and he follows it up with a soft peck.

“Will you let me take you back home now?” he questions. “Ellie’s gonna have our heads if we’re late for game night. Especially when she’s choosing the line up.”

•••

No heads roll that night. Plenty of dice do, while Uno cards are slapped onto the coffee table, and Jenga blocks fall. Tommy, Maria, Dina, and your uncle Nate, eventually file out of Joel’s house, leaving the three of you alone. Ellie feigns sleep on the couch as soon as it’s time for cleanup, and dozes off for real as you and Joel start taking care of everything yourselves.

He steps up behind you as you’re standing at the kitchen sink, snaking his arms around your middle. A curious hum rises up your throat as you lean back into him.

“I think somebody cheated during Jenga tonight,” he hushes against the shell of your ear, relishing the way you shiver at the warmth of his breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel noses at the back of your head. “So you weren’t the one touchin’ me during that last round?” he asks. “Scratching my back, squeezing my thigh.”

“It was innocent,” you insist. “It's a stressful game, I was just trying to ease your nerves. How was I supposed to know your hands would get all shaky?”

A sudden chuckle shakes his chest, sending a ripple of warmth through you. “Ease my nerves? We weren’t even on the same team.” His fingers squeeze your hips in quick, gentle pulses, making you arch into him in a spell of helpless giggles. Joel evades your attempts to grab his wrists, but shows you mercy when you turn around, looking up at him through your lashes like you could do no wrong.

“You’re lucky I happen to like you an awful lot.” He places both hands on the counter behind you, effectively caging you in.

You smooth your hands up his chest, admiring the soft lines by his eyes, the handsome bump of his nose. “I know. I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“No, that’s me,” Joel whispers.

He’s certain of it.

Thank you so much for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts, it’s my favorite thing.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem reader smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x y/n #slow burn #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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tinydefector · 7 months ago

Note

Every single day I think about your post about bots being freaky xenophiles about humans it is my Roman empire

Heheheh I'm glad you guys like it but here's some other funny ideas I have of humans being stupid little creatures forgetting that the bots are literally Alien robots.

- getting smoochy with one of the Bots and attempting to fondle them, you slap their headlight and their horn honks, scaring not only you but the bot themself, it kinda ruins the mood but it's worth the laugh afterwards.

- specifically an Optimus Prime one. Having to tell this bot to get a power wash before he's allowed to sleep with you becuase God forbid you have to lay beside him because all you can smell is diesel and it makes your stomach churn so badly. He will grumble about it but if it means he gets to cuddle and hold you of a night you can bet your boots he is squeaky clean. (Also leads to alot of bathroom fun)

- taking any of the speedsters to a show and shine, it's like a fuckin car porn show and the bots are just stunned. Rodimus is having the time of his life literally having humans touching every inch of him as they admire his paint and engine. He loves it even more when you get the bucket of water out. It becomes something he regularly ask you to go do with him becuase he loves having you dressed up all nice and showing him off. In more than one way the praise really makes him feel worth it. He loves having you lean into his engine bay asking if he's alright, asking to just let them know when he wants to go. And this bot treats you to a nice beach side date after. (He has every local show and shine dated) other bots who love this consist of. Tracks, Jazz, Mirage, Knockout(he likes making Breakdown Jealous. Get cucked in the back row)

-rust, it is ratchets most hated thing to deal with because of how corrosive it is to their frames, and trying to find something on earth that works well enough to clear it off so he can do surgerys leads him to the humans gifting him a large thing of Coca-Cola, it works just as well as clean cutter (cybertronian rust remover), when he realises the ingredients are very similar it makes life so much easier until he catches The humans drinking it and he nearly has a spark attack trying to make them regurgitate it. It leads to him finding out that humans casually drink it when they really shouldn't.

- the bugs and insect carnage left in the bots grills, windshield and just small gaps. The horror on one of the humans face when they kiss their bot and then that taste the nastness of dead bugs. Or them enjoying laying on their bot and then a spider crawls out of a gap, scurring right towards them. It leads to the bots regularly getting washes alot more that they ever would have on cybertron, and it's time each bot loves so much. Becuase it develops into pull sized bathtubs, power washing, polished and just proper care given to them.

Here's also a collection of new things humans do that become kinks or fetishes for the bots.

- cleaning/ washing,

- panel beating and repairs

-causal car maintenance

________________

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@kgonbeiden

@murkyponds

@autobot79

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@chaihena

@pyreemo

@lovenotcomputed

@mskenway97

@delectableworm

@cheesecaketyrant

@ladyofnegativity

@desertrosesmetaldune

@stellasfallow

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa

@shinseiokami

@tea-loving-frog

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livelaughlovesubs · 5 months ago

Note

For the prompt event just one more from me- Writer's choice Freebee for any character and prompt(s) you want

As a treat

I WANNA WRITE LICKING BOOTS OR HEELS i dont really care which character

Dom!Rich!reader x sub!Broke!male!character

Warning: sadistic reader & masochistic character, sugar baby character, boots/ shoes licking (the soles too), dirt eating, power play, mention of vomit (didn’t happen), stepping, cumming untouched, degration

Anniversary event

He was just so pathetic you couldn’t help it. Really, it made your senses get disoriented whenever you pretty begs you with his tail between his legs, asking for money with an ashamed look across his face. Your sweet little sugar baby was insatiable, wasnt he? The audacity he had, to ask for more when he was already getting a lot— and he knew very well how ungrateful that must sound. That’s why the least he could do is get on his knee while hesitantly pleading with you, not even daring to look you in the eyes.

Gently, you tapped his clothed thighs with the tip of your shoe, staring down at him all amused. He didn’t know, since he wasn’t looking at you, but you enjoyed seeing him embarrass himself whenever he just acts so damn disgraceful. Slowly, you moved your leg upwards. First along his thighs, to his pelvis, ignoring his bulge— then tracing the outlines of his bellybutton, up to his chest and lastly— right below his chin and tilting his face upwards.

“What is it this time?” You questioned coldly, betraying your true emotions. “…I erm, god, c-could I get a little more ca-,,, pocket money?” His words were bitter, he felt uncomfortable muttering such things, be it due to shame or other reasons. “Didn’t you just got it last week?” He was dead silent, so quiet even, that he could hear the tapping of your finger on your knee. “I know- I just, I need it. Just a little bit, it’s not much to you anyway right?” How you adored that little tremble in his voice, he truly was tailored to fit your taste.

You sighed, acting all begrudgingly, “can’t you at least tell me why you need the cash?” Instead of answering, he just pleaded, “please, just a little more, I only need like 2k—!” You interrupted him by tapping his cheek with your shoe, chuckling in disbelief, “hah! A little? Sweetie, you think I’m a tree that grows money?” He was sweating a little, skin glistening under the low-saturated light of the lamp. “It means a lot to me, please… master?”

Would you look at that, now he’s using every trick in the book to try to win you over.

“That’s not enough to convince me~” you ended your sentence with a higher pitch, exposing yourself, giving him hints on what he should do. This was not the first time you’ve played this game with him, so luckily he still remembers your teachings. “I’ll do my best to persuade you then…” he whispered meekly, hands bawled into fists as he rests them on the ground, turning his face around a little to push your shoes to his lips.

With lingering skepticism, he stuck his tongue out, licking a long trail over the front of your footwear. The material was shining with his spit now, all clean and rid of any dust. The male grimaced silently, before swallowing the lump in his throat. You watched with preying eyes and a sadistic smirk, enjoying the show he was putting on for you. Next, he used the tip of his tongue to lick over the sides, trying hard to ignore the straight up awful taste of dirt. He didn’t even want to think about what exactly he was eating, squeezing his eyes shut, doing it with his intuition.

You helped him a little as well, moving your foot up and down to grant him easier access. A pool of arousal building in your stomach as you restrained your desire to be even more mean, to step and to kick him, to make him do even more nasty stuff— all that can wait. For now, you’ll focused on the appetiser.

Once he was done with polishing your shoes with his hot and wet muscle, he gulped down all the filth, pondering over whether or not this was enough. He didn’t need to think a lot, because you answered his confusions for him by pressing soles of your footgear against his face. “You aren’t done yet, pretty boy.” Shivers ran down his spine at the horrors and humiliation, though it turned into perverted lust in the matter of seconds. He had to take a few seconds to prepare himself mentally, but then he stuck his tongue out again.

He brought it across your soles once, licking all across the place. The taste of sand and was seems to be glass plagued his taste buds, and he gaged. Nonetheless, he managed to swallow it, at the price of feeling something coming up as he did. His cheeks darkened into a blush, droplets of sweat rolling down the sides of his forehead. You didn’t say much as you watched him with intense eyes. Even though he wasn’t looking up at you, he could still feel your gaze, and he shook slightly at the thought of that.

Many minutes passed, and the longer this went on, the more he became erect. Was it because of your watching gaze, piercing through his soul? Or was it due to his perverted nature, because he enjoyed the pain and humiliation? It was a question he didn’t want to answer, out of consideration for his remaining pride. The feeling of vomiting was tattering inside him, he felt a little nauseous as well, but he succeeded in pushing through it all, cleaning your shoes with great precision.

Soon, it was as clean as new.

At that point his tongue felt sore, and the sand was crunching between his teeth. Some tears were collecting in the corners of his eyes, all due to the overwhelmingly terrible taste. Finally, you talked again, he was starting to miss your voice, he desperately needed you to guide him through it all, to make him feel better. “Good job, you did so good, good boy.” You reached out to pat his head, stroking through his hair a little.

This gentleness was such a stark contrast to what happened only minuets before, that his entire body was shaken with pleasure. He couldn’t help but whine pathetically, bucking his hard on up against nothing. You didn’t even notice how he got hard, and how his pre was soaking through his pants already. Smiling all content, you pressed down on the tent with your now almost sparkling shoe, commenting, “such a dirty masochist, you enjoyed choking on the filthy that clung to my shoes? I guess that suits mutt like you.”

Again, he whined, bending forwards with his upper body, hands twitching to grab your ankle but he knew better than to act on his impulses. “Hnng.. y-yes.. I’m just a dirty mutt.” God, just look at how big your grin grew. “Well, but I can’t deny you did a great job. Fine I’ll give you 1K.” You then applied more pressure to his bulge, making him arch his back and moan out in blissful, ecstatic pain, “ahh-nHGHHh..!!??”

His eyes rolled to the back of his scull, drool running down his chin. This defiles form of his was more than depraved, it was sinful and degenerate. “To get to 2k… you’ll have to clean it again.” You stated, pressing down even more, causing him to cum into his pants. “HaaAaNNGghh…! Y/nnnNghh ♥︎♡～” He was already so worked up from before, and so sensitive due to your degration, please don’t blame him for cumming so fast…♡

Instead of being mad, you laughed, and brought your now in cum covered shoe to his lips again, tapping his flush lips. “So, get to work, pretty boy.”

He really needed the money after all, so he had no choice but to oblige, right? And it was surely sorely for the money ♥︎

(Edit: don’t ask why I wrote this with Toji in mind, also with the reader being younger [to add more shame], but that’s for you to decide)

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squibsformers · 3 months ago

Text

Miscommunication

Rodimus x Human Reader, Drift x Ratchet x Human Reader

Summary: After Rodimus tried looping you into something you really weren't into, you sought out your other partners to complain about his reveal of character.

Word Count: 1,128

AN: NSFW suggestive talk, no outright smut. Also hi this is my first tf writing soooo lmk what your thoughts are, i love comments. I'm already working on a reader insert series and wanted to start with a few one off bits. Enjoy! tagging valveplug just in case.

[Pt. 2]

Drift looked up when you entered the medbay, his greeting dying on his glossa as his field just PINGED with the waves of displeasure coming off you.

“Jeez… what's got you all wound up, huh?” He straightened his backstuts as he stood up more from the desk he leaned over, messing with Ratchet temporarily set aside.

You hissed a rush of words under your breath as you strutted in, something that he couldn't TELL what was said but he understood it wasn't very polite. Even the older medic bot lifted his head to address you.

“I only managed to make out Rodimus in all that. What did our oh so brilliant captain do to piss you off?”

“I thought this whole time we were leading up to something… fun. But it turns out I misread every step. He thinks he's BETTER than me.”

“He's the captain, he is better than you.”

You whipped your head around to glare at Ratchet. “Better enough that I deserve to clean the dirt off his kibble with my tongue?? Because I feel that's pretty fucking degrading.”

Both bots stilled, and the medic's “Wait, what-” was interrupted by Drift stalling briefly and talking over him. “That doesn't sound at ALL like something Roddy would say.”

“I thought so, too.” You huffed before your attitude melted into something a bit sadder. “I mean… I've been flirting with him for so long, and he's been receptive towards it. You even told me he said he likes me. So I don't know where this came from…”

Groaning, you put your face in your hands, and idly Ratchet patted your back while working (and half listening).

“I didn't even think that would be a thing with you guys, making someone tongue-polish your like, plating and stuff.”

“That sounds like something Megatron would have had Starscream do back in the day,” Ratchet groused, making Drift mock gagging.

“I'm going to purge my tank, don't make me think about those two like that.” A shudder wracked the ex ‘con's frame. “Eugh. No it's not really a thing with us. Is…is it a human thing?”

“Ah…” The question made you pause to think. “Not… really? I mean, kind of. It's usually an extremely exaggerated form of punishment from someone who wants to uh… show superiority while demeaning the other. Though it's shoes or boots for us, not armor spikes. The idea is to polish the dirtiest article of clothing with their tongue - or glossa - so they feel... sub-human. Though there's always exceptions, and some people are into that kinda thing as like, a kink? But it's really not…what I'm looking for.” You wince.

….Ratchet paused his comforting as he listened, before turning to look you over. “Hold on, back up. Armor spikes… kid, what did Rodimus say to you?”

Drift leaned over the autobot's shoulder, studying you closely. The samurai looked both confused…and disbelieving.

Alright, fine then.

“He said ‘Y’know… Maybe you can put that glossa of yours to use and… clean my spikes with it.’” They let out a grumble. “I didn't peg him for the degrading type…”

The two mechs went oddly quiet and still.

“Spikes… plural?” Drift pressed.

You thought back more, mulling the memory over, of the captain of the Lost Light leering down at you with that heated smirk and his thumb on your cheek…and shook your head.

“No, sorry. Just spike.”

“PFFT-”

You looked up to see Drift looking away, one of his servos clamped over his intake as he cackled. His limbs shook and he held onto Ratchet to steady himself. The medic was looking away, face buried in his hands. His shoulders shook.

He was also laughing at you.

“What. WHAT! HEY?? HELLO!!”

“Kid…Kid, Sp..spike is another term we have for plug.” Ratchet mumbled out. Still laughing. Very much laughing at you. His words caused Drift to wheeze and bend over, his vents stuttering as he cackled.

“He was asking you to interface finally and you totally missed it..!! Oh Primus help me, what did you say? What did you say, tell me. Please, it has to be good.”

Your face got warm as you thought of the fact that you had finally gotten Rodimus interested enough he would make a bold pass. Your face was hot when you realized you had totally missed his signals. Your face was practically on fire when it clicked just how badly you fumbled the whole interaction.

“I… I said Ew, no thanks. And came here-”

“THAAAAHAHAATS THE WORST THING YOU C-COOOHOULD HAVE SAID!!! AAAHAHAGHA OH PRIMUS-”

“Frag me, kid you did not-”

There was no saving you. Both mechs were now openly laughing at your misery. Your face buried in your hands you mumbled out a weak “How was I supposed to know!” that only made Drift start losing it all over again.

After some time (Ten. Minutes.) the two much larger beings had settled, Ratchet returning to his work and chuckling on occasion while Drift…pestered you over your absolute dropping of the ball.

“I can't believe this. I'm almost scared to flirt with you now because you may not get it!”

“Driiiiift…!” You whined, the cheeky samurai squeezing your hips. “Let me go, I want to jettison myself out of the airlock.”

“Not a chance!! I mean I want to make sure if I tell you I wanna have you eat my valve from the back that you aren't going to mistake it for me, say, threatening to mug you or something.”

Your face was bright red. “Drift!!”

“Or, oh man, if I tell you I want to slot my plug between your thighs, maybe you'll think I'm wanting you to-”

“RATCHET! DRIFT IS BULLYING ME AGAIN!” Complaining loudly, you squirmed in Drift's hold while eyeing his Conjux, displeased and humiliated and hoping the medic would scold him or something.

Ratchet barely spared you a glance with his optics as he continued his inventory count. He was literally busy and not paying attention to you two.

“Between words from attractive mechs, manhandling, and something almost too big to go in, you enjoy being bullied, and all of us here are very aware of it,” drawled the grouch's response.

You stared at him, mouth dropped open in shock and WORSE embarrassment at how he called your bullshit out. All while Drift began cackling all over again.

—

You stared up at the habisuite door, staring at the imposing metal barrier of captain Rodimus Prime's personal chambers. Your stomach twisted in knots nervously, your palms somewhat sweaty as you raised a fist and knocked hard, twice. Mentally, you prepared your apology as you heard shuffling and the soft clank of pedes across a metal floor.

God, you hoped the mech thought stupid was hot.

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #drift x reader #ratchet x reader #rodimus x reader #valveplug #tf x human #tf x reader #reader insert

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oldsoul007 · 4 days ago

Text

save a horse

cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader

summary: what started as a frustrating, never-ending rivalry with Joel Miller—his reckless riding, his cocky smirks, his infuriating ability to get under your skin—turned into something else entirely. Something you couldn’t control, couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard you tried. Because beneath all the fighting, the competition, and the stubborn pride, there was heat. And once you gave in to it, there was no turning back.

a/n: “rivals” to lovers, banterrr, cocky Joel, suggestive scenes, heavy kissing, Joel calls reader princess and darlin’

joel miller masterlist

There’s a fine line between love and hate, and Joel Miller lived on the other side of that line—just far enough to keep me from crossing it. Every time I saw him, it felt like that line was being tested, stretched tighter and tighter, as if we were both stuck in some kind of wild tug-of-war.

I had my life all planned out. The pristine, polished world of show jumping and barrel racing was where I thrived. Clean, controlled, the kind of competition where technique and precision mattered more than the mess. I rode with grace and poise—everything about me screamed class and focus.

Then there was Joel.

Joel was the kind of cowboy who thrived in the dirt. The rougher, the better. He was known for his wild, reckless rides—bareback bronc riding, calf roping, and the like. He didn’t care about the mess. He thrived on it. He loved the mud, the sweat, the adrenaline of it all. He reveled in the chaos, and I couldn’t stand it.

We met at a local rodeo competition one fateful evening. I was there for the barrel race, wearing my pristine boots and jacket, my hair perfectly styled beneath my hat. Joel was competing in the rough stock event, his face covered in dust and grit, his clothes stained with sweat. He had the audacity to walk past my stall just as I was prepping my horse.

“Hope you’re not planning on getting too dirty in that competition,” he smirked, his voice low and mocking. “This ain’t your kind of rodeo, y/n.”

I shot him a sharp look, barely containing my irritation. “I don’t think I asked for your opinion, Joel.”

He chuckled, leaning in a little closer, his eyes glinting with something I couldn’t quite place. “You’re a little uptight, aren’t you? I’d hate to see you get all flustered in the dirt. You’ll never make it through the next round.”

I could feel my pulse quicken with a mix of anger and something else—something I definitely didn’t want to acknowledge. “Maybe you should stick to your rough events. Let the classy riders handle the rest.”

He leaned back, eyes narrowing, his lips curling into a smirk. “Classy, huh? Well, you better hope you can handle a real challenge when it comes your way.”

I was ready to snap back, but I didn’t have time. The announcer called for the next round, and I needed to focus. I shot him a glare before walking away, but I could feel his gaze on me the entire time.

The competition was intense. Every part of me focused on executing each turn, each jump, with perfection. I had trained for years, and it paid off. My time in the barrel race was top-notch—clean, precise, with every second of the run perfectly controlled.

But as I crossed the finish line and the crowd erupted in applause, I spotted him again. Joel was in the middle of his calf roping event, the exact opposite of what I’d just done. His horse was galloping full speed toward a runaway steer, and I couldn’t help but watch. He was all muscle and grit, moving with an ease that looked almost reckless. His rope flew through the air, securing the steer in one fluid motion, and the crowd went wild.

I hated that it was impressive. I hated that it made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the competition.

Afterward, I found myself near the stables, cooling down my horse when Joel appeared again, this time covered in more dirt than ever. His shirt was half undone, his hair sticking out in every direction.

“You know,” he said, walking up to me, “you were pretty impressive out there.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to remain composed. “You’re just trying to be nice because you lost.”

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent an unexpected shiver through me. “I didn’t lose. But I’ll admit, you made it look easy.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Well, I don’t roll around in the dirt for a living.”

Joel’s eyes glinted. “I’ve never been afraid to get dirty. Guess that’s what makes me better at what I do.”

I looked him up and down, shaking my head. “You’re just a mess, Joel. There’s no finesse in what you do. It’s all chaos.”

“Chaos is how things get done,” he said, stepping closer. “Everything has to be perfect for you though, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what makes me a winner.”

He cocked his head to the side, his lips twisting into a grin that made my stomach twist in a way I couldn’t control. “Funny. I think we both know it’s not always about perfection.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my cool. “Maybe. But at least I’m not playing around with danger and risk every second. I’d rather be classy than reckless.”

Joel’s smile faltered, and for a second, I thought he might actually take offense. But then he leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “You know, y/n, maybe one day, I’ll show you how much fun it can be to throw caution to the wind. You might surprise yourself.”

I shook my head, pushing him back with a firm hand on his chest. “Don’t hold your breath, Miller.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the tension between us palpable. The air crackled with something that wasn’t hate, but it wasn’t quite attraction either. It was something in between, something that neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

“Alright, princess,” Joel said, his voice softer this time. “You keep riding your pretty little circles. I’ll keep riding the rough stuff. But don’t forget—when you’re ready for a real challenge, you know where to find me.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned, leading my horse back to the stables, trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks and the pulse of excitement that had nothing to do with the competition.

Joel Miller was chaos. He was everything I wasn’t. But somehow, despite myself, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were both waiting for the inevitable clash. And when it came, it was going to be one hell of a ride.

I don’t know what it was about Joel Miller that set my blood boiling—maybe it was the way he always had to have the last word, or maybe it was the fact that he rode like a reckless idiot and still managed to win. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stand him.

And yet, I couldn’t seem to avoid him either.

“Careful, princess,” Joel drawled one afternoon as I tightened Maple’s saddle before practice. “Wouldn’t want you breakin’ a nail before your big fancy event.”

I exhaled sharply through my nose, forcing myself to keep my focus on the leather strap in my hands. “And I wouldn’t want you falling off your horse and bruising that oversized ego of yours,” I shot back sweetly.

Joel smirked, leaning against the stall with that insufferable confidence. “Darlin’, I don’t fall.”

I finally turned to look at him, crossing my arms. “No, but you sure like to run your mouth.”

He grinned. “And you sure like to pretend you don’t like it.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “You’re delusional.”

“Yeah? Then why do you always find me?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You find me, Miller.”

He took a step closer, that damn smirk still plastered on his face. “Right. And you’re always right here, ready to argue.”

I hated that he was right. I hated that he knew exactly how to get under my skin, knew exactly what buttons to push.

And worst of all, I hated that I liked it.

Every run-in with Joel was like this—an endless cycle of back-and-forths, teasing jabs that always left me flushed, irritated, and on edge. He was rough and reckless, all dirt and sweat and wild confidence, while I was polished, precise, and disciplined. We weren’t supposed to mix.

But that didn’t stop the tension from simmering beneath every argument, every too-long glance, every time he leaned in just a little too close, like he was daring me to cross that line.

And maybe, just maybe, I was getting closer to doing exactly that.

—

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the rodeo grounds, the smell of dirt and hay thick in the air. Most of the competitors were unwinding before the next round, tending to their horses or grabbing something to eat.

I had been brushing down Maple when I heard a small voice nearby.

“Can I pet him?”

I turned, curiosity piqued, and spotted a little boy standing a few feet away from Joel and his horse, Ford. The kid couldn’t have been older than six, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, rocking on his heels like he was nervous.

Joel, who had been adjusting Ford’s saddle, turned to look at him.

For a second, I expected him to wave the kid off. He wasn’t exactly known for being warm.

But instead, Joel crouched down to his level, resting his forearm on his knee. “Yeah? You like horses?”

The boy nodded eagerly. “He’s big.”

Joel chuckled. “Yeah, he is.” He reached up, giving Ford a firm pat on the neck. “But he’s a good boy. You wanna sit on him?”

The kid’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Joel nodded. “C’mon.”

The boy practically bounced in excitement as Joel lifted him up with ease, settling him gently on the saddle. He kept a firm hand on the kid’s back, making sure he was steady, while Ford stood still, completely unfazed.

The boy grinned wide, gripping the horn of the saddle like he was ready to take off. “I’m a cowboy now!”

Joel chuckled, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it. “That’s right, little man.”

And damn it if my heart didn’t melt right there.

I had seen Joel Miller in plenty of ways—cocky, infuriating, reckless.

But this?

This was new.

He was gentle. Patient. And watching him interact with that kid, making his whole day with nothing more than a simple ride, did something to me that I really didn’t want to think too hard about.

I must’ve been staring too long because suddenly, Joel’s eyes flicked up and locked onto mine.

The smirk came back instantly, like he could sense the effect he had on me. “What?”

I rolled my eyes, quickly turning back to Maple. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

“Shut up, Miller.”

But as much as I tried to ignore it, the image of Joel smiling up at that kid, looking so damn soft, was burned into my mind.

And for once, I didn’t hate it.

—

The day was winding down, the sun sinking lower in the sky, and the arena was quiet except for the faint rustling of hooves and the occasional call from the crowd. The final competition was just around the corner, and I was out on the practice field, determined to get in some last-minute work before everything went down tomorrow. Maple was calm as always, and I was focused, running the barrels with precision and grace. Every turn was tight, every motion measured. I was in control, just like I always was.

But the world has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect it.

I had just completed my last run when I heard a sudden, sharp sound from the far side of the arena. At first, I didn’t think much of it—until I saw the flash of a calf breaking through the fencing, charging across the field at full speed, clearly startled and out of control.

I instinctively pulled on Maple’s reins, trying to guide her out of the way, but she was spooked, her head shooting up as she began to buck and rear. The calf was moving fast, its hooves pounding the earth, and Maple, already skittish, couldn’t seem to calm down.

“Maple, whoa, easy girl!” I shouted, trying to get her back under control, but the harder I tried, the more she panicked. I was losing my grip, my heart racing as I struggled to hold on. The cow was heading straight for us now, and Maple was getting more and more frantic.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath, pulling harder on the reins, but nothing worked. I was completely out of control, the adrenaline surging in my veins as Maple bolted, jerking me to the side. I could feel the ground beneath me shift, my grip slipping, and then—without warning—Maple’s leg caught on something, and she pitched forward, throwing me off.

I hit the ground hard, the air knocked from my lungs as pain shot through my back and shoulder. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. I tried to push myself up, but my body wouldn’t respond, the pain paralyzing me as I gasped for air.

“Y/n!”

I heard a voice—Joel’s voice—shouting through the haze.

Before I could even react, I felt the ground shift beside me. Joel was there, dismounting Ford and rushing over to me, his face a mask of concern, his eyes wild.

“Stay still,” he said, his voice rough as he kneeled beside me. His hands hovered over me, unsure of where to touch, and I saw the rare flicker of concern in his usually confident gaze.

I tried to push myself up, the pain from my shoulder shooting through me. “I’m fine,” I lied, gritting my teeth. “I don’t need your help.”

Joel’s expression darkened, and his hands moved to my shoulders, gently forcing me back down onto the ground. “Don’t move. You’re not fine.”

I glared at him, the frustration bubbling up again. “I said I’m fine, Joel. Just… just go away.”

“Please just stop being so damn stubborn.” His voice was harsh, almost angry, but not with me—more with the situation, with how I was refusing help when I clearly needed it. He wasn’t joking now. “I’m just trying to help you.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the pain in my shoulder was too much, and I winced, the sharp sting cutting off my words. My breathing was labored now, my heart still pounding in my chest from the chaos of the moment. For a few seconds, we just stared at each other, me lying in the dirt, Joel kneeling beside me, both of us breathing hard from the rush of adrenaline.

“Look, I don’t need you playing the hero,” I managed to mutter, trying to sit up again, but Joel gently pushed me back down.

“I’m not playing anything, y/n. You can’t even move. I’m not going to leave you out here alone just because you’ve got too much pride to admit you’re hurt,” he said, his tone firm, but underneath, I could hear the edge of concern. “If you don’t stop fighting me, I’ll drag you out of here myself.”

I glared at him, but the frustration I felt earlier melted into something else—a mix of embarrassment and anger. He wasn’t wrong. I had to admit, I had overestimated myself, and now I was paying the price.

“Fine,” I muttered, still struggling to sit up, but feeling the weight of the pain in my body. I could barely lift my arm without it aching. “I guess you’re right. But don’t think I’m going to thank you for it.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk returning, but it wasn’t as cocky as it usually was. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just making sure you don’t make it worse by being stubborn.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but another wave of pain shot through my shoulder, making my breath catch. I grimaced, closing my eyes. “I’m not stubborn,” I managed to mutter, my voice strained. “I just don’t like being treated like I can’t handle things.”

Joel’s expression softened, just slightly, and for a moment, I saw something else in his eyes—something genuine, not the usual teasing or arrogance. “I get it. But sometimes you need help. And it’s okay to accept it.”

I swallowed hard, the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck, but I couldn’t argue with him. I was hurt. I couldn’t handle everything on my own, and right now, I really did need him.

“Just help me up,” I finally muttered, my voice quiet, but there was a hint of surrender in it now.

Joel didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, carefully pulling me into a sitting position, his hand firm on my back as he steadied me. “Easy,” he said, his voice soft now. “We’ll get you back to the stables and make sure you’re okay.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, the rush of the competition, the pain, and Joel’s unexpected calm all mixing together in a way I wasn’t sure how to process. I hated needing help. I hated showing weakness, especially in front of someone like Joel. But as he gently helped me up and guided me back to safety, I couldn’t bring myself to be angry anymore.

Maybe, for once, it was okay to let someone else take charge. Even if that someone was Joel.

Joel guided me carefully back toward the stables, his arm lightly supporting my back as I limped along beside him. Every step sent a jolt of pain through my shoulder, and I was starting to realize just how badly I had underestimated the situation. Maple had finally calmed down, now tied to the post a few yards away, but my head was still reeling from the chaos, the fear, and the sharp ache that spread from my shoulder down my side.

Joel’s grip on me was steady, strong, but not intrusive—just enough to keep me from stumbling. He kept his pace slow, making sure I could keep up, his brow furrowed in concentration. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by a seriousness that felt oddly comforting in the midst of everything.

When we reached the stables, he led me to a bench just outside, carefully helping me sit. His hand lingered on my shoulder for a moment, the touch gentle yet reassuring. I looked up at him, surprised by how quiet he was. Usually, he would’ve been making some sarcastic comment or teasing me for getting hurt, but now he seemed… concerned. In a way I hadn’t expected.

“Stay put,” he said, his voice softer than usual as he crouched down to inspect my shoulder. “I’m going to grab the first aid kit. You’ll be fine.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t so sure about that. The pain had dulled a bit since I sat down, but it still throbbed with every movement. I wanted to argue, to tell him I could take care of myself, but at this point, it seemed pointless. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was stubborn just to prove some point.

Joel disappeared into the nearby barn and returned a few minutes later with a first aid kit in hand. He knelt down in front of me, his eyes scanning my shoulder, and I could see him evaluating the injury carefully. There was no arrogance now, no cocky humor. He was all business.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” he muttered, gently lifting my arm to get a better look at the injury.

I winced, trying not to flinch, but the pain was undeniable. “It’s nothing,” I said, forcing my voice to sound dismissive. “Just a little bruise. I’ll be fine.”

Joel didn’t buy it. “You’re lucky you didn’t break anything. This could be worse than it looks.” He carefully started cleaning the area around the bruise, his touch light but deliberate, making sure he didn’t aggravate the injury. “You always act like you don’t need anyone’s help. But it’s okay to admit when you’re in trouble.”

I gritted my teeth at his words, but there was no edge to his tone—just quiet honesty. I didn’t want to admit that he was right, that maybe I had been pushing myself too hard lately, that maybe I had been too proud to ask for help. But it was hard to keep up the act when he was standing there, so close, so damn calm.

“I don’t need a lecture, Joel,” I muttered, trying to shift my position slightly.

His hand paused as he looked up at me, his eyes catching mine. “I’m not lecturing you. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t make it worse. You can’t keep pretending like you’re invincible. You’re not.”

The words hung in the air between us, and for the first time, I felt a wave of vulnerability wash over me. I didn’t want to feel like this. I didn’t want to admit that maybe I had been running on empty for far too long, that maybe I didn’t have it all figured out. Not with him, not with anyone.

“You’re right,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t know what happened back there. It’s like I lost control for a second.”

Joel didn’t respond immediately. He finished cleaning the cut and then started wrapping it in gauze, his movements methodical and practiced. I had expected him to make some quip, to tease me for showing weakness, but instead, he was quiet—focused.

When he finished, he finally looked up, his expression softer now. “It happens to the best of us. You got scared, and that’s okay. But you don’t have to do this alone, y/n.”

I met his gaze, the weight of his words settling in the pit of my stomach. His sincerity was something I hadn’t expected, and it threw me off more than I cared to admit.

For a long moment, neither of us said anything. The only sound was the quiet rustling of the wind and the distant hum of the rodeo grounds. I could feel the tension between us, still hanging in the air, but now there was something different about it—something that wasn’t just about competing, or winning, or proving who was stronger.

“Thanks,” I said, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. “I didn’t expect you to… actually help.”

Joel gave me a dry chuckle, sitting back on his heels. “Don’t go thinking this means I’ve gone soft, darlin’. I’m still gonna beat you tomorrow.”

I couldn’t help but smile, the familiar banter easing the weight of the moment. “You’re still insufferable, you know that?”

His grin returned, that cocky edge creeping back into his voice. “And you’re still stubborn. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. Makes the competition interesting.”

I shook my head, but this time, there was no animosity behind it. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something—maybe even gratitude—for the way he’d handled this.

“Just don’t think you’re getting an easy win,” I shot back, feeling a hint of the old spark return. “I’m coming for you.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly, his eyes glinting with the usual challenge. “Bring it on. I’ve been waiting for you to step it up.”

For a moment, I let myself enjoy the lightness between us, the rivalry still there, but tempered by something new. Something I didn’t quite understand, but I was starting to admit I didn’t mind.

Joel stood up, offering me a hand. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the bed and breakfast and take it easy for the rest of the night. You’ve got a competition to win tomorrow.”

I hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, letting him help me up. The steady warmth of his grip was comforting, and I couldn’t ignore the way my pulse quickened with his touch. There was something about Joel—something that pushed all my buttons, something that made me want to keep fighting and keep running, but also, maybe, something that made me want to stay.

I brushed off the thought, refusing to let it linger as I walked beside him back to the stables. There was still a competition to prepare for, after all, and tomorrow, I’d make sure he knew that I wasn’t going down without a fight.

The morning buzzed with the smell of fresh coffee and bacon as I walked into the small dining room of the bed and breakfast. Most of the rodeo crowd was already there, gathered around wooden tables, chatting between bites of biscuits and gravy.

Still half-asleep, I grabbed the nearest cowboy hat from the rack by the door and plopped it onto my head without thinking.

I didn’t realize my mistake until I felt the weight of a stare burning into me.

Slowly, I looked up—right into the amused eyes of Joel.

He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, that damn smirk creeping onto his face. “Mornin’, princess.”

I blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Joel tapped his fingers on the table, clearly enjoying himself. “That your hat?”

I frowned, reaching up to tug it down more firmly—only to freeze when I realized it wasn’t mine.

It was his.

I had grabbed Joel’s hat.

Before I could rip it off my head, he tilted his head, voice dropping just enough for only me to hear. “You know what they say…” His smirk turned downright sinful. “Wear the hat—“

“Don’t.” I yanked the hat off my head and smacked it against his chest before he could finish that sentence.

Joel just chuckled, gripping the hat with ease, his fingers brushing mine for a split second longer than necessary. “Hey, no need to be shy about it. Could’ve just told me you wanted—”

“Don’t even start.” I huffed, grabbing a cup of coffee and heading straight for the other side of the room, ignoring the way my face burned.

“Hey, wait,” Joel called after me, and despite every bone in my body telling me to keep walking, I paused.

His voice was quieter now, a little more serious. “How’s your shoulder?”

I blinked, surprised. “What?”

“Your shoulder,” he repeated, leaning forward with that same familiar, cocky grin, but his eyes—there was something softer there. “Y’know, after that little run-in with the calf yesterday. Didn’t want you to use it as an excuse when I beat you later.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the unexpected flutter in my chest. “It’s fine. Barely hurts.” I squared my shoulders just to prove the point. “And I’m still competing, so don’t get your hopes up.”

Joel chuckled, tipping his hat. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.”

Even with my back turned, I could feel his eyes on me.

And worse?

I wasn’t sure I hated it.

Competition day always had a certain energy to it—electric, tense, buzzing with anticipation. The early morning sun cast long shadows across the rodeo grounds, the air thick with the scent of dust, horses, and sweat. The crowd was already gathering, and the announcer’s voice echoed through the arena, calling out the lineup for the day’s events.

I should have been focused. I needed to be focused. But, of course, Joel was making that impossible.

“You nervous, princess?” His voice came from behind me, slow and smug as I checked Maple’s saddle one last time.

I exhaled, gripping the leather a little tighter before turning to face him. “Not in the slightest.”

Joel grinned, standing there with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, looking like he hadn’t lost a wink of sleep over today’s competition. Unlike me, he didn’t believe in overpreparing or second-guessing. He just rode, wild and free, as if the rules didn’t apply to him.

“You sure?” he pressed, tilting his head. “You’ve been triple-checking that saddle for the last five minutes.”

“Maybe I just like to be thorough,” I shot back.

Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, walked up just in time to witness our usual back-and-forth. He clapped Joel on the shoulder, shaking his head with a grin. “Man, do y’all ever stop?”

“Nope,” said another voice—Kailen, my best friend, who had been standing nearby, watching with barely concealed amusement. She raised a brow at me. “You know, for two people who claim to hate each other, you sure spend a lot of time talking.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the announcer’s voice rang through the speakers, calling up the tie-down roping competitors—Joel’s event.

Joel shot me a wink. “Guess we’ll have to finish this conversation later.”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered as he strolled off, exuding nothing but confidence.

Joel went first. I watched from the sidelines as he rode out with Ford, moving like they were one body. He chased down the calf, lassoed it with effortless precision, and leapt from his saddle in one fluid motion.

The crowd roared as he finished his tie-down in record time, standing back with that damn smug expression as if he knew he was the best.

Tommy whistled from beside me. “Damn, he’s gonna be impossible to deal with after that one.”

Kailen nudged me. “You good?”

I forced myself to unclench my fists. “Fine.”

I wasn’t.

Because the second Joel met my gaze from across the arena, his smirk turning into something slower, something challenging, I felt my stomach flip in a way I really didn’t need before my own event.

It was my turn.

The crowd was still buzzing from Joel’s performance, but I didn’t let it distract me. I mounted Maple, adjusting my grip on the reins as we trotted into the arena.

I took a breath. Blocked out the noise. Focused.

Then, at the sound of the buzzer, we flew.

Maple moved with power and grace, muscles coiling and releasing as we weaved around the barrels with razor-sharp precision. The turns were tight, the speed unmatched. Every movement was calculated, controlled—until the last barrel.

Just as I rounded it, I saw a blur of movement from the corner of my eye. Something—someone—was too close to the fence. Maple spooked, just a fraction of a second’s hesitation, but it was enough to cost me.

We crossed the finish line fast, but not fast enough.

I let out a breath, my heart hammering as I slowed Maple to a trot.

Second place.

Not first.

Not him.

As I dismounted, frustration burned in my chest. I had been so close.

“Hell of a ride,” Joel’s voice came from behind me, and I turned to find him standing there, Ford’s reins in hand, watching me with that unreadable expression. “Shame about that last turn, though.”

I gritted my teeth, yanking off my riding gloves.

“What?” His lips twitched. “I’m just sayin’—”

“You’re gloating.”

Joel stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “You mad ‘cause you lost, or mad ‘cause you lost to me?”

I shot him a glare, my skin still buzzing from the adrenaline. From the way he was looking at me. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re predictable,” he murmured, his eyes flickering down to my lips before meeting my gaze again. “Always so desperate to be perfect. Always so scared to just let go.”

I hated that he could see through me. Hated that he knew how much this got under my skin.

But most of all?

I hated how much I wanted him to kiss me right then and there.

“Y/n!” Kailen called, jogging up before I could say—or do—something stupid.

I tore my eyes away from Joel, breathing out sharply. “Coming.”

Joel leaned in just a little, voice low in my ear. “We’re not done, darlin’.”

I turned my head, meeting his gaze with a challenge of my own. “Not even close.”

The rodeo wrapped up as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting everything in a hazy golden glow. The smell of sweat, dust, and leather lingered in the air as competitors packed up for the night, some celebrating, some nursing bruised egos.

I should have been happy with second place. It was a solid run, and I knew Maple and I had given it everything. But standing there watching Joel grin and drink a beer like he hadn’t just walked away with a damn trophy made my blood boil.

And worse? It made something else simmer beneath my skin.

Kailen nudged my side, her gaze flicking between me and Joel, who was leaning against the fence with Tommy, talking and laughing. “You look like you either want to murder him or fuck him.”

I scoffed. “Try murder.”

“Sure,” she said, dragging out the word like she didn’t believe me for a second. “You gonna pretend you weren’t watching him the whole time?”

I turned sharply toward her. “I was not—”

“You totally were.” She smirked. “And he knows it.”

I glanced back at Joel, and sure enough, his eyes were already on me, like he’d been waiting for me to look. The second our gazes met, he lifted his beer bottle slightly, that damn smirk never leaving his face.

Cocky asshole.

I tore my gaze away and turned to Kailen. “I need a drink.”

She grinned. “Now that I can help with.”

Later that night, most of the rodeo crowd had gathered around a bonfire outside the bed and breakfast. Someone had set up speakers playing old country music, and the smell of barbecue mixed with the smoke from the fire.

I sat on a hay bale, nursing a beer, trying to shake the way Joel had been in my head all damn day.

But of course, he had to make it worse.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Joel’s voice drawled from behind me.

I exhaled slowly before turning to look at him. “Why? Thought I’d be too busy polishing my second-place ribbon?”

Joel chuckled, taking the spot next to me like he belonged there. “Nah. Just figured you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me after today.”

I scoffed, taking a sip of my beer. “I don’t.”

“Yet, here you are.”

I turned to him, narrowing my eyes.

He leaned back, propping an arm on the hay bale, looking so damn relaxed it made me want to shove him off. “You always this fun at parties?”

I set my drink down and faced him fully. “What is it you want?”

He studied me for a second, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he shrugged. “Just wonderin’ how long you’re gonna pretend you don’t feel this.”

My breath caught, but I covered it with a laugh. “Feel what?”

Joel tilted his head, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before flicking back to my eyes. “This,” he said, voice lower now. “The thing between us.”

I swallowed, suddenly hating how warm the fire felt against my skin. “There is no thing.”

Joel just smirked, like he could see right through me. “Right.”

The tension was thick—too thick.

I should have left, should have walked away before I did something stupid.

But Joel, of course, had to push.

“You mad ‘cause I won, or mad ‘cause you know I’m right?” he asked, leaning in slightly.

And just like that, my patience snapped.

“God, you are so insufferable!” I huffed, standing up abruptly.

Joel followed, rising to his full height, his body inches from mine. “And you are so damn stubborn.”

“Because I don’t fall for your stupid games?”

“No, because you pretend you don’t want this!”

My jaw clenched. “I don’t.”

Joel let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”

I pushed at his chest, more out of frustration than anything, but he barely moved. “You are the last person I’d ever—”

Before I could finish, he grabbed my wrist, tugging me forward. “Then tell me to stop.”

I froze.

The bonfire crackled behind us, voices and laughter distant, drowned out by the pounding of my own heart.

Joel’s eyes searched mine, his breathing heavy, his grip firm but not unkind. “Tell me to walk away, y/n.”

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Joel's grip on my wrists tightened, his eyes burning with a fury that mirrored mine. "I'm talking about the fact that I can't stand you, y/n. I can't stand watching you shut me out, push me away, acting like you've got everything figured out."

I blinked, stunned by the words he'd just said.

"You can't stand me?" The words stung, more than I wanted to admit, but I was too furious to back down now.

Joel's jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yeah. I can't stand how you make everything so damn hard. I can't stand how you act like I'm some kind of joke. But I can't stop thinking about you either. You don't get it, do you?" His voice dropped to a whisper, the raw emotion there now, the heat between us intensifying with every word. "I want you, y/n. I want you so fucking much, and I can't stand it."

The words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, staring up at him, realizing that everything l'd been fighting— everything I thought I knew-was coming to a head. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, the heat and the desire that had been simmering beneath our constant bickering now breaking free in an overwhelming wave.

Without thinking, I pushed myself up onto my toes, crashing my lips into his with all the pent-up frustration, desire, and raw emotion I'd been holding back. His hands immediately moved to my back, pulling me flush against him, and the moment our lips met, it was like everything exploded. His kiss was demanding, urgent, filled with everything we hadn't said before-the anger, the passion, the need.

I tugged at his shirt, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of his body against mine, the way our breaths mingled as we kissed like it was the only thing that mattered. I could feel the way his muscles tensed under my fingers, the rawness of him, the way he was losing control just as much as I was.

"Y/n," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and raspy. "I can't stop... can't stop thinking about you."

I pulled away just enough to look him in the eye, my chest heaving with breathless anticipation. "Then don't," I said, my voice shaky but full of conviction. "Stop fighting it."

Joel groaned against my mouth, his arms wrapping around me in an instant, pulling me flush against him. The kiss was rough, urgent, months—years—of tension exploding all at once.

He backed me up until my back hit the fence, his hands gripping my hips like he was afraid I’d pull away. But I wasn’t going anywhere.

The kiss deepened, urgent, messy, full of everything we had been avoiding. I felt his hands running down my back, pulling me even closer as if he couldn't get enough, as if everything we had been holding back was finally being released in the fire between us.

My hands slid under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin, the way his muscles flexed with every move. I pulled him closer, his breath coming fast and shallow as he kissed me harder.

I didn't think about the competition. I didn't think about the risks or the consequences. All I could focus on was the heat between us, the passion that had been building for so long, finally bursting open in a wave that left us both breathless and lost in the moment.

When we finally broke apart, both of us gasping for air, Joel rested his forehead against mine, his hands still gripping me tightly.

"Shit," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "That was-"

I didn't let him finish, pulling him back into another kiss, this one slower, deeper, more deliberate.

Joel's grin spread, a familiar cocky smirk returning, but now there was something more beneath it-something real, something that neither of us could deny.

We made it back to the bed and breakfast and I wasn't sure what I expected after everything— after the anger, the lust, the feeling of crossing some line l'd never been able to cross before-but in that moment, none of the thoughts I had before made sense anymore.

Joel's lips were still on my skin, his hands brushing against my body with a familiarity that felt too natural. I couldn't quite process it all-the way my heart raced, the way he moved so confidently, but also with that trace of hesitation like he was waiting for me to push him away. And I could feel the shift, the change, that had come with everything.

I could feel it in the way he touched me now-so gentle, but deep with a hunger I hadn't expected.

His lips trailed over my neck, down my jaw, slowly, like he was savoring every second. It made my breath catch, my pulse quicken as I let myself fall into the feeling, into him.

"Y/n..." he whispered, his voice rough, barely above a breath. "I didn't think it would be like this. But damn, I can't stop..."

He didn't finish the sentence, and I didn't need him to. I knew exactly what he meant. It was the same thing I was feeling, the same pull, the same want.

I wasn't thinking anymore. I wasn't thinking about the competition, about the rivalry, about all the reasons we shouldn't be here, doing this.

I reached up, pulling him into a kiss, my fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer as if somehow that would make it all make sense. His hands slid under me, lifting me slightly, and I could feel him shift, his body pressing against mine with a desperate kind of intensity.

We couldn't keep our hands off each other. His touch was scorching, a contrast to the cool sheets beneath us. My hands roamed over his chest, feeling the taut muscles there, the heat radiating from him.

He groaned softly when my fingers brushed his collarbone, his lips parting in that same quiet desperation.

I could tell he was holding back-like he was giving me a chance to stop him, to pull away. But I didn't want to. I couldn't stop him.

When his hands found their way down to my waist, pulling me even closer, I couldn't stop the soft gasp that escaped me. And that was it. He kissed me again, this time rougher, the pace of his movements picking up, pushing me deeper into the moment.

I wanted him. God, I wanted him more than I wanted to admit.

Joel's mouth found mine again, his hands now working to tug my shirt off, and I wasn't stopping him. I didn't care anymore. All the walls, all the resistance, all the history between us—it melted away, and the only thing that mattered was what we were doing right now.

We were giving in. We were no longer fighting it.

My body responded instantly, moving against his, matching the intensity of his kiss, the roughness of his hands. He was relentless, his kisses growing deeper, more urgent, as if he couldn't get enough.

And I couldn't either.

The way he touched me made everything else feel irrelevant. The way his lips trailed down my body sent sparks of heat that burned away every other thought I had, until all I could think about was him.

It felt so right, but at the same time, so completely new.

Every touch, every movement, was a revelation. He wasn't the same man l'd been arguing with all day. He was someone else now-someone raw, someone real. Someone who was finally, finally, showing me all the things he'd been holding back.

And I realized, in that instant, I wasn't the only one letting go. He was too.

His body pressed against mine, heat radiating off him, as if he was saying everything he couldn't with words. His kiss was hungry, fevered, but there was something more to it-something soft, something almost... gentle.

I felt his hand on my back, guiding me, moving me closer, as if there was no space between us, as if we were meant to be tangled up in this moment, in this feeling. We were no longer the same stubborn, competitive people. We were two people who had finally let go of everything and just given in.

And I couldn't bring myself to stop.

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aunt-bridget · 4 months ago

Text

It had been an emotional path to salvation for this pretty little thing……a visit to Aunt Bridget was long overdue.

Weeks and months of training, humiliation and ultimately, complete subjugation was administered to turn this toxic young man into a sweet little maid. Previously, this slut wouldn’t think of anyone else, they would leave their filth and crap for others to deal with and be a generally unpleasant little prick.

Now my methods can be ponderous, maybe a little long winded on occasion. It would have been so easy to whip and peg the shit out of this poor excuse of a human being, but I believed in a gentler process.

And now look. What a transformation.

The nicely fitted black pvc maids dress sits so perfectly on the slim frame, black stockings and shiny fuck me heels have encouraged some very feminine affectations. The gorgeous red nails and delightfully slutty make up certainly seem to get her very excited, especially with a head of flowing blonde bimbo hair to complete the tarty look.

The sturdy collar and steel cuffs make sure no unauthorised freedom is attained and we also have a strict code of silence. A selection of worn panties…either mine or theirs is placed in the mouth at all times. The muzzle keeps everything in place and the nasty little cock is locked away for good. A generous plug is stretching this virgin ass out and my maid has come to associate the shameful feelings of pleasure with this sissy stimulation.

A Pavlovian response is always assured when I peel my panties off and let them drop to the floor. My girl knows the muzzle is about be unbuckled briefly for a gag change. The pretty eyes lower in embarrassment as I feel the warm leakage from the cage….just before my ripe underwear goes in that pretty little painted mouth.

But it’s not all fun and games at the house. The slut is still caught humping my boots as they polish them and we have to start the whole cleaning routine again. I firmly believe we are going to achieve perfect sissification, but I have warned my little maid that a trip to the vet might have to happen if these urges continue.

#cd #glam girl #caught sissy #bound #punishment #conditioning #strict aunt

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dameronology · 18 days ago

Text

laundry (frank castle)

summary: frank castle is good a lot of things. being domestic is not one of them.

warnings: language and this has not been proofread in the slightest lmao. enjoy!!

It wasn't often that you caught Hell's Kitchen in a beautiful moment but that first hour of light on a cold Tuesday morning caught your entire apartment perfectly. Streams of blonde light peaked through your crooked blinds, filling your bedroom with a warm glow; you could see little specs of dust in the air rising with the angle of the sun - shit, you really needed to vacuum in here - that eventually faded off into nothing. It was your day off, and you didn't want to get up early but Frank Castle's insufferable snoring had interrupted your slumber and unless you'd suddenly gained a liking for Jurassic Park style white noise in the last five seconds, the chances of getting back to sleep stood at zero.

You threw the duvet aside and pitter-pattered out the room, quietly shutting the bedroom door behind you. There was no reason for Frank to be up any time soon, either. With his night job and you being on a work trip, he'd had about seven hours sleep in the last three days.

The state of your apartment reflected that: there was a pile of unwashed combat clothes in the corner, paired with a few pairs of unpolished boots and every single mug to either of your names marinating in the sink in a washing up bowl of coffee and last night's dishes. You let out a sigh - fucking hell, Frank. Still, you weren't going to get on at him for it. You'd only lived together for a month or so by that point and up until now, he'd been perfectly tidy to the point where you hadn't even lifted a finger. The mess was clearly just a reflection of his drained mental state.

With that in mind, you set off to work. Laundry into the washing machine, plates into the dish washer that you weren't even entirely sure Frank knew existed, boots polished and put to the side. It was like clock-work really, just half an hour of cleaning, cleaning and a little bit more cleaning.

"Morning, sunshine," Frank's gravelly voice rung through the small apartment, just in time to walk into a cloud of Febreeze. "Jesus fuck, are you trying to suffocate me?"

"Sorry, Frankie," you pressed a kiss to his jaw, "was just doing some cleaning."

"I can see," Frank looked around, brown eyes flickering between you and the sparkly kitchen counters, "I'll do my bit later."

"It's cool," you shrugged, turning to flick on the kettle.

"Huh?"

"I already did it," you replied, "your clothes are in the drier now and I think I polished your boots."

"You did my laundry?"

You put down the coffee filter you were holding, turning to face Frank with a furrowed brow. "Yeah. Don't tell me you're weirdly specific about your laundry being done? Only because last week I saw you use tape to fix a hole in your-"

" - no, it's just, uh..." Frank paused, dragging a calloused palm through his cropped hair, "I'm not used to people doing shit for me. Sorry. I mean...not sorry, baby. Thank you."

You smiled. "No problem."

A few weeks passed, and the apartment stayed tidy.

Another Tuesday came and went, and as usual, Frank was dead to the world. He was finally sleeping normally now that you were home and his routine had been restored. Frank always slept in nowadays - now that he had you beside him, he was catching up on a decade's worth of sleep.

Now, Frank Castle was normally a very heavy sleeper. Save for when he was out on tour in the military, he slept like a fucking plank. Nothing could wake him up - not fire alarms, not your neighbours and their inconsiderate routines, not even when a police car came ripping by your apartment window at 4AM.

"FRANCIS FRANKLIN FUCKING CASTLE, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY FUCKING CLOTHES?!"

Yeah, that'll do it.

Before Frank even had a chance to open his eyes and comprehend what was going on, the door to your shared bedroom burst open. He could see that you were angry - seething, even. The second thing he quickly spotted was your favourite jumper. Only now, it looked like it was from the newborn section at Target.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh."

"Now you're speechless? You run your mouth your whole life but the minute you ruin my favourite jumper - my favourite VINTAGE Paramore jumper THAT THEY NO LONGER SELL - you're silent?!" you exclaimed, throwing the jumper onto the bed. "Finally, a solution!"

Frank gulped. "Uhhhhhhh."

You let out an angry huff.

"You did my laundry last week," he began. Frank had a habit of starting sentences and hoping that the rest would come to him half way through, "it made me happy so I, uh, I thought maybe I'd do the same for you. But, I guess you read instructions on clothes and I don't."

Your angry face suddenly softened. "Oh, fuck. Now I feel bad."

"I did wonder what the little symbol on the label meant," Frank muttered.

You picked up the edge of the duvet and slid into bed beside Frank, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He was obviously still a little embarrassed, albeit more relaxed now that he knew you weren't about to bury him alive. Many people had tried, but he was sure you were the only one who could do it.

"Sorry, baby," he quietly said, "I had good intentions. For once."

You smiled. "Don't worry about it."

Frank furrowed his brow at you. "How the goddamn hell did you calm down so quickly?"

"I dunno, I have a hard time being mad at you."

"Huh," Frank murmured. "No-one's said that to me before."

You elbowed him lightly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I said I had a hard time staying mad. That doesn't mean you don't drive me up the-"

Before you could finish, a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you under the covers. Frank pressed a warm kiss to your lips, forehead resting against yours.

"I'm sorry about your jumper," he said. "I love you."

"I love you too," you replied, "and it's okay - you can just Paypal me the money for a new one and I'll forgive you."

#frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle imagines #frank castle fics #frank castle fluff #frank castle x you #frank castle headcanons #frank castle #punisher x reader #punisher imagine #punisher imagines #daredevil #daredevil born again

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outerbankies · 28 days ago

Note

hi bestie. i still often think about your cowboy rafe you mentioned agessss ago 🥲

yeehaw.docx

in your love - rafe cameron

synopsis: an early morning on the ranch in cowboy!rafe’s back house, after you both finally acted on your feelings the night before

The sun hasn’t even crested the mountains when his early morning movements about the back house wake you. A squeaky door hinge into the bathroom, the run of the shower, a few taps on the sink from his toothbrush.

Rafe smells of aftershave and a laundry detergent-fresh shirt when you do finally stir, squinting at the red numbers on the digital clock beside his bed. You push yourself up slightly as he comes to sit at your feet, only one boot on.

“S’everything okay?” you ask.

“Can’t find my damn — ah, there it is,” he says, pulling the other out from under his bed, where it’d been lost under where you were sleeping. “Mornin’.”

You realize a beat late he’s leaning in, embarrassed by your half-asleep state. He doesn’t seem to mind, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, tucking a tendril behind your ear as he pulls away.

You spot a blush on his cheeks as he does, his hand falling from your face with a thumb-brush to your bottom lip. “Sorry for the early wake-up call. Thought you might want a ride back to the main house.”

You’re still bleary from sleep, head spinning slightly from his kiss and how it stirred up last night’s memories, a couple of bourbon gingers and his hand on your thigh. Childers — from a goddamn CD — playing in his truck on the drive from the bunkhouse, his lips everywhere as soon as the front door shut behind you.

“This is your normal wake-up time?” you marvel, still in so many ways ignorant to his life.

Rafe must find it endearing, chuckling. “Truthfully, been up about an hour or so. Coffee’s on in the kitchen if you want it.”

You nod, pushing yourself up straighter, stretching your arms over your head. “Yeah, yeah. Just gimme a sec and I’ll get up. When do you need to head out?”

“Should be soon. But I’m sure Kelce and the rest of them are sleepin’ in a bit this morning,” he says with a wry smile.

You shake your head, picturing the Kelce you saw with an empty 30 rack of Coors on his head last night at the bunkhouse up at this ungodly hour.

You’d only had two drinks at the bar in town, and barely polished off half of your nightcap at the bunkhouse before Rafe had whispered in your ear about leaving the rest of the hands to it.

You’d watched as Rafe barely drink all night, wondering if he’d been intentional about it as you had.

The blue work shirt — clean, pulled fresh from a drawer last night — you wore to bed falls off your shoulder just then, Rafe eyeing it with a smile as he pulls it back up.

“You’re killin’ me,” he practically whispers, pecking your cheek.

You’re emboldened by the effect you must be having on him, by the fact that he had been limiting his drinking last night for one goal in mind, by the way he should’ve left already and he’s still here being sweet to you.

You kiss him again against your better judgement, knowing it’ll make the ride back to the house that much more tense. But you can’t help it.

“You really have to go?” you question, your hand brushing against the shaven-smooth skin of his jaw.

“Cattle won’t push themselves.”

“When’ll I see you?”

“Dinner tonight?”

You shake your head. “Going into town with daddy.”

“Where?”

You just shrug. “Some hotel restaurant I think? It’s a business dinner. Lucky me.”

He nods. “I’ll bet it’s The Smythe. Nice place. They can make you that fancy drink you tried to order at the bar last night.”

Rafe presses a kiss to your cheek, no doubt feeling the heat on them. “A dirty martini is hardly a fancy drink.”

But his laugh reverberates in your chest when he tucks his face there, so you don’t necessarily mind the teasing, your hand moving to the back of his head, fingers threading through the still-damp strands at the back of his neck.

For a brief, terrifying moment, you realize you want him to stay there forever.

“If you say so,” he says.

You stay like that, stroking the back of his head for a moment. Pressing a kiss to the side of his head, you say, “I should really get up. So you can go.”

“Stay,” he says suddenly. “Have your coffee, or go back to bed. Just stay, and I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He pulls back to look you in the eyes, and any inquiry you had into whether he meant it dies on your lips.

“A few hours?”

“Before you’re even up again,” he promises, pressing a kiss that feels final to your lips before he stands.

You sink down into his covers before you can decide if it’s a good idea, watching as he pulls his jacket off the coat rack in the corner, your own from last night hanging right beside it.

Had you not been still half-asleep, the smile he throws you after putting his hat on before passing through his bedroom door would’ve been grounds to beg him back into bed.

“Back soon!” Rafe calls, the front door slamming shut.

#a new rafe around these parts?#who is she #I’m sorry nl rafe pls don’t look over here #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #cowboy rafe hcs

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nomie-11 · 1 month ago

Text

masterlist!

synopsis: vi feels spectacularly out of place in the world of her girlfriend, but all her girlfriend wants is a good luck kiss before she races in the most elite series in the world

pairings: street racer!vi x f1 driver!reader

Vi felt like she was way out of her league. Formula 1 was a whole new world outside of her little bubble of street racing and fast cars.

Your blue and white Hextech Racing race suit was a stark contrast to her leather jacket and cargo boots, and it seemed like everyone she passed by in the paddock stared at her like she had stolen her VIP pass (not that she blamed them, Vi had a face tattoo and a pink undercut that never looked perfectly clean).

Vi tugged at the lanyard around her neck, feeling a little out of place among the rich, polished rows of the Formula 1 paddock. The chatter of engineers, the hiss of air guns, and the low hum of the engines created an atmosphere that was entirely foreign to her. She was used to the smell of burning rubber in back alleys and dingy garages covered in oil and grease, not high-tech pits and champagne bottles that probably cost more than her rent.

And then there was you.

You stood by your car, laughing with your race engineer—Viktor, a Zaunite who just happened to be a genius, as you said—as you adjusted your gloves, exuding a confidence that had Vi completely mesmerized. Your Hextech Racing suit hugged your frame perfectly, and the way you carried yourself screamed that you belonged here—on the world's biggest stage for racing.

When your eyes finally met hers, you broke into a grin, passing a quick goodbye to Viktor before jogging over as if she wasn’t standing there awkwardly trying not to look like a lost tourist.

“Vi!” You called, your voice cut trying through the noise. “You made it.”

“Of course I would make it,” her familiar confident smirk took place on her face despite her own racing heart. “It’s not everyday you get to see your girl in a Formula 1 car.”

You laughed, and Vi felt the familiar heat of a light blush dusting her cheeks.

“I race almost every other weekend, Vi,” You grinned. “You could come any week.”

Vi shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Yeah, well, your world’s a bit… shiny for me.”

You tilted your head, giving her that knowing look that always made her feel like you could see right through her tough exterior. “Vi, you’ve literally stared down enforcers mid-race and didn’t even flinch. You think these people scare me more than you?”

“It’s not about them.” Vi’s gaze flicked around the paddock as though searching for the right words. “It’s just… I’m not exactly ‘team sponsor material.’” She made air quotes, her tattooed fingers curling as she gave an awkward, lopsided grin.

You reached for her hand, ignoring the bustling engineers and photographers just a few steps away. “You’re my material, and that’s all that matters.” Your tone softened. “Besides, I kinda love seeing you here. Makes me feel like I’ve got a little piece of my world cheering me on.”

Vi ducked her head, her ears turning pink. She muttered something like “yeah, yeah, okay,” which you knew was her way of agreeing without getting all mushy in front of your pit crew.

Just as you were about to slip on your helmet, you hesitated, turning back to her with a playful smile. “Wait. Kiss for luck?”

Vi blinked, her brows shooting up. “What? Now? Here?” she gestured around. “Babe, there’s cameras everywhere!”

You pointed at the bottom line underneath your visor on the left side of the helmet, where the roman numeral VI was subtly embedded into the design, perfectly matching her own tattoo. “You’re seriously telling me you’re worried about a little PDA when I’ve got this on my helmet for the world to see?”

Her lips parted in surprise, her cheeks reddening. “That’s… cute as hell,” she muttered.

“Damn right it is,” you teased, slipping your helmet on over your head and flicking up the visor so she could still see your eyes. “Now, kiss it. Like I do for you before every race.”

Vi hesitated for a beat longer, glancing around the bustling paddock. But then she exhaled sharply, muttering something about how you always managed to get your way. Stepping closer, she cupped the sides of your helmet with her calloused hands and pressed a quick kiss to the top, her lips brushing over the crown of the helmet while her thumb lightly scraped over the VI on the side.

“Happy now?” she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching up in a smirk.

“Ecstatic.” You grinned, slipping into the cockpit of your car.

As the mechanics swarmed around, checking the final setups, Vi stepped back, folding her arms as she watched you settle in. She didn’t notice the flash of a camera in the distance or the way your team principal—a tall, buff guy named Jayce who Vi remembers you saying she would get along with—grinned knowingly.

Later, when she saw the photo on your lockscreen—her kiss captured in perfect clarity—Vi groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Nope,” you replied, grinning as you held up your phone. “Best lockscreen ever.”

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

#vi arcane #vi x y/n #vi x you #vi x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 #arcane piltover #piltover's gayest #vi x fem reader

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

as a kid i was so scared of my parents splitting up, what if roan learns someone in her class’ parents are divorcing and it sends her spiralling thinking she’d never see reader again?

thank you jade 💛

thank you for requesting lovely ♡ eddie and roan (almost) stepmom!reader, 2k

"Yeah, I got the expensive kind," you're saying, phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder, a knife held loosely in your hand. "I don't wanna make it wrong."

Roan can vaguely hear the rumble of her Uncle's voice on the other side giving reassurances.

You scrape the blade of the knife against the cutting board. "I know. I know, Wayne, I swear, just… I hardly ever make him dinner and this is our last anniversary before we get married, and– I know. Sorry, that's– I know, you don't mind, it's just–"

Roan attaches herself to your hip like an octopus, looking up at you as you look down. You smile at her, putting your knife flat to stroke her hair.

"She's right here," you say, "she's helping me… okay. Thanks, Wayne, you're the best. See you tomorrow. Alright, I will. Bye."

You put your hand behind Roan's shoulder and walk her with you to the phone. As soon as you've hung it back on the hook, you scoop her up to hold against your chest, even if she's getting longer and longer every day. "Hey, babe. Uncle Wayne says he loves you and he missed you today. He wants to make you dinner tomorrow, so we'll find your nice blue dress tonight and put it in the wash."

Roan flops her face against your neck. "I love him too."

"He knows." You press your cheek to hers briefly. "Okay, you wanna sit on the top with me and I'll finish making today's dinner?"

Roan's happy to sit on the counter and swing her legs as you finish making the pot pie. It's one of Eddie's favourites because his mom used to make it a couple of times a month, and so it's one of Roan's favourites, her lips quirked with excitement as you chop onions, carrots and celery into small pieces for the frying pan.

"I love the carrots," she says.

"Yeah?" You uncap the cooking oil to pour a generous splash into the pan. "Want me to put extra in? I don't mind."

Roan nods enthusiastically. "Yes!"

She's happy watching you cook at first, but she gets quieter as you finish up. By the time the pie is in the oven she's picking at her little nails, shards of polish in her lap like powdered sugar.

"You okay?" you ask, wiping your hands clean. She shrugs. You shrug back. "What's that mean?"

"I'm thinking."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Roan pokes her toes into your thigh.

"Well, daddy's home soon, but you know you can tell me."

"Mm," she hums, holding out her hand. You don't take it, folding her into your arms for a hug instead.

It would usually make her feel better, but Roan feels ten times worse as you soften your tone to a less cheerful murmur, "Got another tummy ache?"

"Not that."

"What is it?" you ask.

She hides her face in your shoulder, pert nose to your soft shirt.

"You don't have to tell me," you whisper. "Sorry. I'm not trying to pressure you, I promise, I just love you." You turn saccharine again, patting her back as you dote excitedly into the top of her head. "Love you love you love you!" You punctuate with a kiss, and Roan starts crying.

—

Eddie's startled but not too worried to get home to the sound of Roan crying. She certainly cries less and less now that she's getting older, but children cry so often that he doesn't think it's worth panicking over.

He can hear you already on the case as he peels out of his sweaty coat and boots. "That's not going to happen," you comfort, voice bouncing off of kitchen tile, the hum of the oven like a baseboard. "It's hard to believe me, but it won't. Me and daddy are super happy."

His eyebrows rise of their own accord. "Hello?" he asks, moving down the hallway and into your bright kitchen.

Roan sits in the shadow of a corner cabinet, hunched over her knees with her face held up by defeated hands, tears wetting her rosy cheeks. You stand in front of her with your hand on shoulder, bent to her eye-level, glancing sideways at him momentarily before you say, "Look, dad's home. He's gonna say the exact same thing as me, I swear. Should we ask him?"

Eddie takes the mantle by your side, quick to rub the tears from Roan's cheek with his pinky. His hands aren't clean enough for anything more. "What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," Roan says, her voice strangled by a big sob.

"Babe!" Eddie laughs, half-hearted. "I can see something's super wrong. I might be a dumb boy, but I know when my girl's upset, don't I?"

"You're not a dumb boy," Roan says.

"Oh. Thank you, Ro."

"You're a dumb man."

"Very funny." He combs unruly coils of dark hair behind her ear, finger following down the curve to her shoulder. "Quick, tell me what's wrong. Just tell me. Rip it off like a bandaid."

"It's silly," Roan murmurs.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Oh," Eddie says, giving you a look to make sure it's alright before he monopolises her attention. You raise your hands with a small smile, as if to say, Please. "Come here, me. I'm gonna have to squeeze this out of you, huh?"

He leans back, shifting her weight against his hip, arm stretched over the breadth of her back. He's not smug, but it does bring a satisfaction to see how swiftly she calms down once he's holding her. It's a familiar picture, Eddie with his lips to her forehead, a crease between his brow just like Uncle Wayne's as he rubs her back, and Roan, a mirror image of her father, palpable relief in her hands as they tangle in his hair. Less familiar but getting there is you at their side, your cheek on Eddie's shoulder and your hand on his elbow.

"What's it gonna take to let me in on the secret?" he asks. He's making a spoiled child accidentally, always bribing and bartering for good behaviour.

"Nothing…" Her mumbling tickles his cheek as she shifts around. "I'm worry‐ing," —her voice skips over the word, like a hiccup— "about something because of Stacy."

"Oh yeah? What did Stacy do?"

"She said her mom, um, her mom said she's getting a divorce. That Stacy won't see her dad again, and it'll just be her and her mom."

Eddie doesn't judge people much. He can't imagine caring about other people's divorces when Roan was born from a fling and pretty much left on his doorstep —circumstances don't determine your kid's happiness alone. He does worry for Stacy, and his poor empathetic little girl.

"That's terrible, bubby," Eddie placates, patting her back.

"It's– well, it's– I'm…" Roan huffs.

"Whatever you tell me is fine, promise. No grounding, no telling off."

"I know, daddy, it's just hard to say."

Eddie feels himself physically melt.

He leans back against the kitchen counter and shifts her against his stomach. His arms burn with the effort of keeping her secured to him, and he's not loving her sad tone —the quicker he finds out what's wrong, the better. He peeks over her head at you for hints.

You're uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other like your feet hurt.

"What?" he asks you.

You clear your throat. "I think she's worried about me. If something happened between us, she's worried she won't see me again."

Eddie would like to think after two years of loving his daughter, watching her grow, and all together being a cherished and irreplaceable part of her life and her support system, that you'd find it impossible to leave her. Even if you left Eddie, you wouldn't leave Ro. He knows that. But only two years… he knows you'd love Roan even if he screws things up, but he can't promise her that things would be the same, because they wouldn't be.

That's not what she's asking, though.

"What, you think you won't see Y/N anymore?' Eddie murmurs, rubbing her back.

"She's not my full mom," Roan whispers.

Eddie reaches past Roan to squeeze your elbow. "You know, that doesn't matter, honey. And after the wedding–"

"You call me mom for a reason, right?" you cut him off.

Roan lifts her head from Eddie's. "Yeah."

"Okay, so, say me and dad get married, and then by some impossibility we realise we can't stay married, will you love me less?"

"No," Roan says with a pout.

"I wouldn't love you any less, either. I didn't know I could love someone this much 'til I met you," you say, voice scratchy like you're talking past gravel. "So things would change, but not how much I love you. I'd still see you."

You sound tentative. Eddie's way less hesitant. "Of course you'd still see each other. Babe, if me and mom break up it'll be because I did something stupid, so you'd see her every time I tried to apologise." He grins at you. "How long do you think it would take you to forgive me?"

"Depends on what you did." You smile fondly. "Probably not long, Munson."

"I have a weird feeling we're gonna last."

Roan sniffles. "I just don't want mom to move away," she says.

You and Eddie have already spoken about this. Serious but not sombre, on your backs in bed. You're not just marrying me, Eddie'd said, terrified of how much he wanted you to say certain things, and how you might not say them at all. This isn't just a promise to me. I know how much I'm asking from you, it's not a small thing. I won't blame you if you can't say yes, but this is… she's my world.

I already said yes. And I knew what I was saying yes to, you'd replied, holding your hand up above you, the two of you staring in wonder at the ring on your marriage finger. I promise, Eds. I won't let either of you down.

"Where do you think I'm going, princess? Me and dad are so happy. I'm staying right here stuck to his hip for the rest of time, but only if you're gonna stick to mine." You duck your head to touch your noses together briefly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Promise you." He swears you're twisting your engagement ring, but he can't quite see. "Can I have her?" you ask.

"Sure. My noodle arms are about to snap anyway."

"Noodle arms," you repeat, stealing Ro from him smoothly. "Yeah, right."

He flexes appreciatively at your comment.

Roan snuggles up to your neck, little face in the curve of it, her arms curling around you. You hold her tight and bend back under her weight, an arm against her thighs and another behind the small of her back, hand twisted up to brush her curls.

"Love you," you say softly. You're smiling like you've got everything you ever wanted. "Maybe if me and daddy break up I can just take you with me."

"Yeah!" Roan says with a gasp.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Whatever, girls. Neither of you can cook, you know that? Maybe tonight you guys can practise your new life together by not eating the dinner I'm gonna cook." Time to lighten the mood, lest Roan spend a special night lethargic.

You beam at him. "I already made dinner. Happy anniversary, handsome."

You exchanged gifts and kisses already that morning before work, but Eddie's happy to accept another quick kiss over Ro's shoulder. He dots one on his daughter's cheek to keep things fair.

"Lucky us, huh?" he says to Ro.

He's not strictly talking about dinner, and it's cheesy, but you light up like a Christmas tree. "Lucky me."

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celebtf · 2 months ago

Text

TAYLOR’S CHRISTMAS SWAP

The agency’s annual Christmas event was in full swing, a dazzling spectacle of lights, laughter, and luxury. Taylor Zakhar Perez was the evening’s center of attention, effortlessly charming everyone with his megawatt smile and confident air. Clad in a perfectly tailored suit, he moved through the crowd like a star in his element.

Near the corner of the room, a Santa sat in an oversized red chair, surrounded by festive decorations and a line of children. This Santa, with his bushy white beard, rosy cheeks, and jiggling belly, seemed straight out of a classic Christmas card. But Taylor saw none of the magic.

“Seriously?” Taylor sneered to his friend. “Who hired that guy? Did he walk in off the street? Look at him—he’s a walking cliché. The beard’s faker than my last co-star’s Botox, and that belly? He’s probably been chugging eggnog since Halloween.”

His friend chuckled nervously. “Come on, Taylor, it’s just for the kids.”

“Yeah, but even kids deserve better acting. Watch this.” Taylor sauntered over, his grin twisting into something smug.

“Hey, Santa,” he said loudly, drawing the attention of nearby partygoers. “Tell me—do you practice that jolly laugh in front of a mirror, or does it come naturally with all the cookies you shove down your throat?”

Santa looked up, his icy blue eyes meeting Taylor’s. He said nothing, but his gaze held an unnerving intensity.

Unfazed, Taylor kept going. “And the beard? Is it glued on, or do you just wake up like that after a long nap? Honestly, I’ve seen mall Santas with better game.”

The room grew quiet as more people turned to watch. Santa stood slowly, his presence towering despite his bulk.

“You think this is a joke, young man?” Santa’s voice was deep and resonant, carrying a weight that made Taylor falter for a split second.

“Relax, old man,” Taylor said with a smirk. “I’m just giving you some pointers. Maybe next year, you can step it up.”

Santa’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “Perhaps it’s time you learned the weight of the role you so lightly mock.”

Before Taylor could respond, Santa snapped his fingers.

The world around them froze. Conversations stopped mid-word, laughter hung suspended in the air, and even the twinkling lights seemed to pause.

“What the—” Taylor began, but Santa snapped his fingers again.

A strange heat surged through Taylor’s body, starting at his chest and radiating outward. He clutched his stomach as a strange pressure built inside him.

“What’s happening?!” he gasped.

His thick black hair turned ashen gray, the strands lengthening and curling wildly. His smooth, youthful face began to wrinkle, deep crow’s feet etching themselves around his eyes. He reached up in horror as a thick, snow-white beard erupted from his chin, growing longer and fuller with each passing second.

The pressure in his abdomen intensified. His taut, sculpted abs softened, then ballooned outward into a massive, round belly that jiggled with every panicked breath. His toned thighs thickened, straining the seams of his expensive trousers before they reshaped themselves into red velvet pants. His arms and chest swelled, his entire frame growing bulkier and heavier.

“No, no, no!” Taylor cried, his voice deepening into a rich, resonant baritone.

His designer suit shimmered, morphing into a plush red coat trimmed with white fur. Black boots materialized on his feet, their polished surfaces gleaming under the frozen lights. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses appeared in his hand, as if mocking his transformation further.

While Taylor’s body grew heavier and older, Santa’s did the opposite. The heavy weight of his belly receded, replaced by the taut, defined muscles of a man in his prime. His white hair darkened, shortening into a stylish cut that framed his now-youthful face. The thick beard vanished, leaving his jaw clean-shaven and sharp.

Santa flexed his fingers, marveling at the vitality coursing through his veins. He patted his flat stomach, grinning.

“Well, this feels… refreshing,” he said, his voice now identical to Taylor’s. He glanced down at his oversized Santa suit, which hung loosely on his newly slender frame, and laughed. “Guess I’ll need a new wardrobe.”

He turned to Taylor—now the perfect likeness of Santa Claus—and smirked. “How’s it feel, big guy? Heavy, isn’t it? The beard, the belly, the responsibility.”

Taylor stared at his reflection in a nearby ornament, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief.

“This can’t be real!”

“Oh, it’s very real,” Santa said, slipping the glasses onto Taylor’s nose. “You wanted to make fun of Santa? Well, now you are Santa. Merry Christmas.”

He snapped his fingers again.

The room came alive once more, the hum of conversation and laughter resuming as if nothing had happened.

Taylor—now Santa—stood frozen, his oversized red suit fitting him perfectly now.

“Taylor!” someone called, approaching Santa. “Nice touch with the Santa suit! You look amazing!”

Taylor - now Santa ,turned his protests dying in his throat as everyone treated him as if he’d always been the party’s Santa.

Meanwhile, Santa—now Taylor—mingled with ease, his youthful face beaming as he charmed the crowd.

Taylor sank into the oversized chair, his heart pounding as he realized the extent of his predicament. He was no longer the star of the evening. He was Santa Claus.

And somewhere across the room, the real Santa—now free of his ancient role—smiled in satisfaction, knowing he’d delivered the ultimate Christmas lesson.

#celebrity tf #body swap #celebtf #transformation #gay #male body suit #malebody swap #male shapeshift #body switch #character transformation #santa claus #taylor zakhar perez #christmas #christmas season

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captainlondonman · 11 days ago

Text

PUB SKIN

It was Friday evening and as always the guys left the office and headed to the pub for a few pints to let off a bit of steam after a busy week. They all stood around the bar exchanging stories of what they would be doing at the weekend some boasting of what their girlfriends could look forwards to when they got home and the fun to be had on a Saturday morning. Johnny noted that a couple of the blokes gave their crotch a discreet rub if there was any discussion of the sex to be had. For Johnny his cock lengthened watching the guys grope themselves.

He looked around the room to see who was there of interest. Sitting in a corner by himself with a pint of beer in front of him was a skinhead. In his mid twenties with his shaved head and green Alpha bomber, Johnny noted the tattoos across his neck and a scar down one side of his face. His blue eyes were piercing and they were looking directly at Johnny. The Skin gave a smirk and nod of the head. If his cock might have been semi hard seeing his mates grope , this Skin had his cock at full length. The guy stood up so Johhny could see the bleached denims looking as if they had been sprayed onto his bulging legs, the guy’s cock fully on show stretching down one leg. The balls were pushing the cock tight against the bleachers accentuating the outline. He was wearing oxblood Rangers that came half way up his legs, nice and shiny as if someone had been spit polishing.

The Skin walked directly towards Johnny and with each step the guy’s cock seemed to grow. As he walked past Johnny he felt the guy’s hand lightly brush his arse. The feeling was electrifying especially in front of all his office mates who did not notice. The Skin walked on towards to toilets and as he pushed the door he turned to Johnny and winked, his smile even bigger. It took seconds before Johnny said

‘Hey guys I’m off for a piss be back soon.’

In side the toilets there was no at the urinals but one of the cubicles was half open. Johnny gingerly pushed open the cubicle door. The Skin was standing on the WC with his zip down and his cock encased in a dirty jockstrap pushing out with an enormous bulge enabling Johnny to see the full thick cock head.

‘Don’t fucking stand there looking. You want cock, you want my cock so get that mouth of yours sucking my piss stained jockstrap. Before I want to see that mouth of yours lick my boots. They need a good fucking clean so get that spit of yours all over my toe caps and clean them. Get down now or I’ll fuckin deck you.’

Johnny didn’t need to be told twice he bent down with the Skin standing above him and let his tongue full with spit. As he bent down to lick one boot so the Skin lifted his other leg and pressed down hard on Johnny’s shoulder

‘Right fucking down I said.’

Johnny felt his head been forced down tight to the boot. He could taste the leather and smell it and that alone made his cock rigid.

‘Forget that dick of yours and get on with the licking. Let me see my boot shine with that spit of yours.’ The pressure on Johnny’s shoulder blade made him lick harder and harder until he felt the pain ease and then Skin moved his head for inspection.

‘That’s better, nice and shiny. So get on with me other boot. ‘Johnny repeated the licking and by this time he was licking furiously the smell so intoxicating covering not just the toe cap but the base of the boots and the sole

‘You fucking love that mate eh? Time you moved up to me dick.’

As Johnny lifted his head so the Skin let out a mighty fart.

‘That’s better, anyway in a bog that’s what you’re meant to do.’

As Johnny brought his head up level with the jockstrap he could smell the pungent odour of piss. The jockstrap was not just yellow but dirty as if it had never been washed. As if the skin had slept in it and every time he had cum let his dripping cock ooze the last remaining drops of cum into the jockstrap.

‘Like what you see mate?’

The Skin’s cock was now hard and bursting out of the jockstrap the thick head forming a strong outline. It was as if the cock would burst through the material it was so stiff. A good 8 inches. Johnny could even see the thick vein running down the length of the shaft.

‘Now suck my piss.’

Placing his hand firmly around the Skin’s bum so he could really grasp the cock, he took his hand and let his hand explore the heavy length of cock, rubbing it up and down the jockstrap.

‘I said fucking suck.’

As Johnny went to suck through the material he smelt the almost overpowering stench of stale piss. It was like an aphrodisiac the more he smelt the less he wanted to gag and the more he wanted to feel the taste of piss driving down his throat.. He let his mouth take in the shaft and rubbed his mouth up and down mixing his spit with the piss stained jockstrap until it was soaking wet and he could make out the full impact of the cock shining through the material.

‘Like the feel of my arse do you. You sure are moving those hands of yours around my cheeks. Forget it mate I don’t get fucked with the likes of you. Time you took me cock out and stuffed it into your mouth. ‘

Johnny brought his hands round to grope the wet cock and eased the prick out of the jockstrap. The meaty cock sprang out and up almost whacking Johnny in the face and Johnny could see the hard vein down the back of the prick. The head of the cock was nice and red having slipped out of the foreskin and there was a blob of precum beginning to ooze out from the tip. As the cock was released so the smell of unwashed piss hit Johnny. By now it was such a turn on and he wanted the smell to be even stronger. He wanted that stench all the way down his throat so it became part of the inside of his body.

‘You fucking love this don’t you mate. Being a real dirty bugger with a. Skin. So do what you are wanting , to take my dick all the way down yer throat and then feel my cum explode inside you.’

Johnny let one hand rub up and down the wet shaft so he could appreciate the size and get ready to suck. He gripped the shaft tightly, It was a bloody joystick and the harder he grasped the more he could feel the cock throbbing. It was as if the cum was bubbling inside ready to shoot. He needed no encouragement, he so wanted to have the cock inside his throat. With his spare hand he undid his own zip and with difficulty eased out his own throbbing cock. No way was he going to suck the Skin off without coming himself.

‘Fucking good dick you got there mate. Bet that shoots a long way.. Now get on and suck.’

Still using one hand Johnny let his tongue lick around the head of the Skin’s cock and as he let his tongue go under the head he knew he was turning the Skin on big time. He wanted to pleasure the Skin as much as himself..Using as much spit as he could bring into his mouth he opened his mouth wide and took in the full head closing his lips around the end of the member.

‘I want you to take the whole fucking lot mate and want you to feel me pubes up against yer mouth.’.And with that the Skin took both of his hands and grasped Johnny’s head.

‘I said fucking suck it all.’

The pressure of the Skins hands on his head forced Johnny to open wider and he had no time to work his way down the shaft slowly. He gagged as he felt the full length being forced down his throat. He thought he was going to spew. Such was the force.

‘Breathe properly and slowly and then you’ll be fin emate. You will want to have it all the way down you.’

Johnny started to breathe slowly and recover from the force. Now with the cock all the way down the back of his throat he could feel his own cock throbbing with excitement. He so needed to wank and suck at the same time. He could feel the Skins pubes brushing against his face and almost up his nose. He started to move his mouth up and down the shaft and every time went to move further down the Skin forced hard but now his throat was able to take it all he was getting off on the force of the Skin as much as his cock.

‘You got the rhythm right mate and I can see you want to shoot your load. Start getting that mouth of yours moving faster .’

As Johnny moved his mouth up and down with more speed so his other hand was wanking faster and faster. He was ready to burst.

‘Shit man you know how to suck. Fucking sucking bitch you are. Get ready to take my full loasddown inside you. Yeah I’m fucking coming. ‘The skin arched his back and let out a groan

‘Fucking hell man take all my fucking spunk .’

Hearing the words from the Skin was all Johnny needed to let his own cock erupt stream after stream of spunk as it shot between the Skin’s legs over the WC pan.

He could not shout out as he was too busy swallowing as much of the Skin’s cum as he could the rest spilling out of his mouth and down his chin..

The skin withdrew his cock and stuffed it into the jockstrap zipping himself up.

Getting down from the toilet he said

‘You done good boy. Fucking great cock sucker you are. ‘Johnny was starting to stand up and zip himself up wiping the remaining spunk off with his hands so it would not show through on the work trousers..

The skin opened the cubicle door as someone came into pee and looked somewhat surprised.

‘You’ve never seem a fucking skin before. Get out my fucking way you ponce.’

Johnny let the door close until the guy had left and giving his mouth a good wash went back out to join his work mates. He was almost starting to get hard again at the thought he had been sucking off a Skin’s dick while they were nearby drinking. That alone was such a turn on.

The following Friday the office guys returned to the pub as usual and immediately Johnny look around the room. Sitting in a corner with his pint of beer was the Skin looking at him grinning and winking. The mere sight of the guy was enough for Johnny’s cock to start straining down his trouser leg. It did not take long for the Skin to get up and walk towards the toilets and as he walked past the guy let his hand rub his crotch through his bleacher jeans. Putting down his pint Johnny walked off in the same direction and was soon in the same cubicle as the week before. The Skin quickly shut and locked the door.

‘Randy little bugger ain’t you the Skin said putting his hand out to stroke the stonker of a knob on that was showing through Johnny’s trousers.

‘You like to show that cock off of yours mate and not a bad size I must say. Now let your hand rub my dick. You like to see a skins cock inching down his bleachers don’t you.’ Now turn round and face the wall and spread your legs across the toilet. Lift your arms out and stretch them out and push that arse of your back. Fucking nice pair of buns you’ve got there. Let me get a better look.’ The Skin brought his hands round Johnny’s waist and undid the trouser band and yanked down the zip letting his hand delve inside to feel the cock.

‘You fucking little whore. You are commando. Not like last week. No fucking wonder that cock of yours was showing so much. ‘

Then gripping the trousers the Skin yanked them down over Johnny’s arse.

‘What a fucking bum you’ve got and a nice little hairy opening. I like a guy with some hair on his arse. Looks good with white creamy cum on the hairs. And you know now where my cock’s about to go.’

The Skin took two of his fingers and moistened them with some spit before placing them on Johnny’s hole and starting to open it up. He pressed the fingers inside making Johnny’s arse stick out even more.

‘I think there’s room for another finger just to grease you a bit more. Licking his finger first the Skin slid it up Johnny ‘s arse making him at first wince but then the feeling of the fingers moving up and down inside made instinctively him shove his arse out to take all.

‘Looks like you are ready mate,’ the Skin said as he unzipped his bleachers and let his cock spring out of his bleachers

‘I’m fucking throbbing man just at the thought of being up tour arse.. Now spread thoese legs a bit wider.’

With his cock standing almost upright the Skin let a large gob of spit onto his shaft and gave a quick rub to grease it for the fuck.

‘Let me widen your buttocks a bit so I can clearly see that hole of yours. Hope it’s nice and clean for my dick.’ Taking one hand he directed and lowered his prick to the hole and slowly let the head inside.

Johnny thought his arse would split but he wanted to be fucked by a Skin and especially this Skin. He had never felt as horny as now stuck in a toilet cubicle with the door shut and no one knowing what was going on inside..

Once the Skin had started his entry he brought both arms round Johnny’s waist so he could push the whole way in. There was almost a slurp as the spit covered cock rammed its way up the hole.

‘That’s a fucking great hole you’ve got . Just made for big cock.’

The Skin started humping and as he did he took one hand and moved it up to Johnny’s mouth. You had me three fingers up yer arse so now have them in yer mouth and taste what the inside of yer arse is like.’

Johnny could almost feel the taste of shit ,his shit ,but with the guy’s hand inside his mouth he let his tongue roll round inside his mouth savouring the fingers and the taste. It was such a turn on that without wanking he felt he was about to explode.

‘That’s it mate, me cock all the way up and me fingers stuck down yer throat. Right little pussy man you are. Time to fuck the living daylights out of you. I’m gonna ram you big time and when I come expect my spunk to almost shoot up to yer mouth.

The Skin was now ramming in and out faster and faster and as he did so Johnny was wanking more and more furiously..

‘Fuck me let me have your cum ‘.Johnny groaned ‘I want all your spunk in me.’

‘You’re gonna have the whole fucking lot mate..’

With one final push the Skin rammed fully in up to the edge of Johnny’s hairy arse and shot wad after wad of spunk . Johnny could feel the gush of cum forcing its way in, as well as the throb of the cock. It was too much for him and his own cock exploded spunk his hand rubbing as fast as he could as it shot across the toilet bowl.

The Skin leant into Johnny ‘s back. ‘You fucking loved that.’ He whispered as he then took his cock out and let it back into his bleachers and jockstrap.

‘You’d better clean up mate. With no boxers my spunk will soon be dripping out of that arse of yours and your remaining cum will be making a nice stain in the front of your trousers.. I’ll leave you to it. See you soon.’

And with that the Skin opened the door and walked out leaving Johnny to tidy himself up and hope his mates could not smell all the cum from him or see any staining.

3 days later Johnny was still dreaming of his fuck with the Skin and more than once he had had to have a wank. He was sitting at home with his cock out stroking it and dreaming when the doorbell went. Quickly tucking his semi erect dick back into his trousers he opened the front door, Standing in front of him was the Skin holding a bag.

‘What the hell are you doing here’. Johnny shouted, looking around to make sure none of the neighbours could see. ‘How the hell did you know where II lived. You cant’ just stand there, you need to go.’

‘Is that the way you talk to your. Rent boy. So it’s alright to contact me and pay me to have sex with you in the pub. You sure loved having a Skin rent boy up your arse there. Get off in the pub when all yer mates are nearby and they have no fucking idea you are being screwed by me. You obviously getting fucking off big time. Tell you what mate you pay well and give me a good time even if I am your rent boy. So what you like best, the dirty Skin or being fucked in a public place.’

‘Both.’ Johnny replied ‘but you can’t stand there and the neighbours might see you.’

‘So shall I shout out that you are a fucking poof that love a Skin cock up yer arse. Don’t you think its best you ask me in.’

Though Johnny was horrified at his prostitute turning up, seeing the guy was turning him on.

‘You had better come in then, but only for a short time.’

‘Thought you might say that.’

As they went into the living room the Skin said. ‘So are you going to offer me a beer. And while you are at it have one yourself. No glass I prefer the bottle.’

Johnny went into the kitchen and brought back 2 bottles. The Skin was sitting on a chair with his legs wide apart and Johnny could see the thick outline of his cock in the bleachers.

Taking the bottle the Skin said ‘Got any crisps?’

Johnny wanting to get rid of the guy and yet turned on by him being in the house brought back some crisps.

‘Great mate so cheers.’

Johnny took a large gulp as the Skin slurped down half the bottle giving a deep belch in the process.

‘So mate I see you can’t keep yer eyes off my cock. Like what you see. But of course you have paid to have it give you a good fuck. Have a good stare at it.’

As Johnny stared at the piece of meat so his eyes were becoming more blurred.

‘I’m not feeling great he said. Maybe you should just go.

‘Feeling a bit tired are you.’

‘Yeees, feeling really sleepy.’

‘So why don’t you just close your eyes and sleep much easier.’

And with that Johnny slumped on the sofa out cold.

‘Well that pill didn’t take long’ the Skin said. ‘These pills always work quick. Time to get into action.’

An hour later Johnny suddenly woke up feeling a strong hand hitting him across the face.

‘Wake the fuck up ,time to sort you out. ‘

As Johnny opened his eyes he could see the Skin standing over him. As his eyes started ton focu she realised that he was stark naked and tied to a chair. Struggling he tried to get up and free himself.

‘You’re wasting your time mate no way will you get out of my knots. Just relax We are gonna have a bit of fun.’

The Skin turned around and opened up his bag taking out an electric razor.

‘What the hell are you going to do with that.’

‘What do you fucking think ‘he replied turning on the razor so it whirred away.

‘Time I got rid of all that hair of yours. You like me enough with my head shaved so might as well look the same eh?’

‘No you can’t’

‘Oh yes I can and you can’t do anything about it. You obviously love Skins otherwise you would not have chosen me as your rent boy so let us make you more like me eh? Better keep your head still otherwise I’ll cut you to ribbons.’

Johnny was totally helpless and sat with his head lowered as the Skin took the razor across his head. He could feel the hair falling off and looking at the floor there was his great mane of dark hair.

‘Great razor this takes it off nice a quick. You feel the air getting to that scalp of yours. Still it’s a bit stubbly.’ Turning the razor off he put it into the bag and then then took out a proper barbers blade and a can of shaving cream.

‘Now you had better sit nice a still if I’m gonna use this on you. ‘

Spraying the shaving foam all across his head he rubbed it in and like a professional barber took the blade and let it glide over Johnny’s head. Johnny was terrified to move. He could feel his head totally free of hair.

The Skin then went into the kitchen and came back with a cloth to wipe off the residue cream. Standing back he started at Johnny.

‘Well if I say it myself I’ve done a fucking great job. No point in just scalping you. Might as well get you dressed properly.’ He said rubbing his bulging crotch “ Gives me a bit of a knob on seeing you’

Opening his bag the Skin took out the clothes he wanted Johhny to wear.

‘I’ll untie you now but if you think you can go for me just remember you are dealing with a skin and I’ll fucking thump you so you are black and blue.’

Untieing Johhny he suddenly felt himself free and decided to go along with whatever the Skin was planning. Any reaction he realised would be bad news for him.

‘Right mate get this jockstrap on. It’s the one you sucked recently and I haven’t washed it since so it has all my piss, my dried cum and your spit. Christ it smells fucking strong. Now get that on you.’

Johnny stepped into the jockstrap and as he felt the dried cum scratch against his cock he felt himself getting aroused knowing it belonged to the Skin and had all his piss stains rubbing against him. Shit it stank but that made it even better.

‘So not that bad is it mate, that cock of yours is sure getting bigger. Love a Skin’s jockstrap you do and knowing you licked my cock through it. Now get the bleachers on. One of my old pairs, nice and worn especially down the crotch.’

Johnny could see how worm and frayed they were down the inside leg and as he forced them up his legs he could even see part of the jockstrap through the shredding of the denim. They were body tight and he could feel them riding into the crack of his arse.

‘Put on the black Fred Perry and tuck it in. Ain’t washed that either so you can smell my armpits.’

Once the shirt was on Johnny was handed the white socks which were all dirty around the soles and he could almost smell the cheese.

‘Now these are me old black rangers but look your size. Il’l help you lace up.’

The skin bent down in front of Johnny carefully tying so the leather was tight against the bleachers.

Looking up at Johnny the Skin said. ‘Shit man that cock of your looks fucking amazing in these bleachers and so fucking hard.’

Once done he handed Johhny a black A1 bomber jacket. It was a perfect size.

‘Jesus I never thought you would look this good’ the skin exclaimed. ‘Let’s get you in front of a mirror.’

Johnny stood in front of the mirror with the Skin behind him. He could not believe he was looking at himself . He was staring at two skins side by side and one of them was himself. He looked just like the dream ,like the rent guys he usually had, he now looked one of them and his cock was almost bursting through the thin bleachers.

‘So not so fucking bad man. How you feel’

‘Amazing or as you would say Fucking fantastic.’

I told you a few days ago that no one like you looked then would ever fuck me. I only get fucked by skins and that thick piece of meat you have stuffed into my jockstrap is something I want inside me. I want you to fuck me so you can see us both in the mirror.’

And with that the Skin pulled down a rear zip of his bleachers.

‘Now stuff your hand inside those bleachers and pull out that dick of yours.’

Johnny ‘s cock was throbbing and rock hard, he could hardly get it out and as he did the prick sprang up the head showing a nice blob of precum.

‘Now look at yourself, in full skin gear with a. throbbing cock and me in front of you with the rear zip of me bleachers down ready to take that monster of yours. One skin fucking another. Once you have come inside me you’ll never be the same again.

‘What do you mean.

‘You think you are a skin now looking at yourself in the mirror but you are only in the gear. Once you have fucked me you will feel like a proper skin. It’s what you want. Just look at yourself. Don’t you feel a real man, a tough nut someone who looks for respect, a guy who knows how to fuck hard.’

‘Sure ‘

‘Well go for it mate, my arse is ready and so are you.’

Seeing the Skin bend over his hole showing through the bleachers made Johnny feel more horny than any time. He loved using the Skin as a rent boy it was worth all the money but now dressed as a skin with the guy’s arse showing it was all that mattered. This was more than he could ever have dreamed off. Shit he should be charging the skin for the fuck.

Johhny spat into his hand and grasped his pole rubbing the spit over his bulging head. He was ready to look in the mirror ad see how he fucked.

‘Take me hard mate like I fucked you.’ The skin said

Johnny could see the skin had a wide hole. There as no need to take care the hole was almost oozing juice. Johnny put his hands on the bleacher covered cheeks and pushed them apart guiding his cock to the hole. As he let himself in so he put his arms around the skins waist to firmly grasp as he pushed the full thick length of shaft inside. He could then feel the metal zip against his pubes, fully in and up to the hilt, hearing the Skin gasp with pleasure.

He glanced at the mirror the two skins cojoined, Johnny’s hands rubbing the stiff outline of the Skin’s crotch.

‘Yeah mate me dicks rock hard. Can you not feel the precum through my bleachers.?’

As Johnny slid his cock back and forth inside the Skin’s bum so he massaged the Skin’s cock.

‘I want you to cum in your bleachers’ Johnny said ‘and see all that cum of yours running down your leg and staining through your bleachers.’

‘No worries mate. I like to have dried cum on my bleachers. There’s plentyon the pair I gave you. Now get on and fuck me hard. Just wait till you cum.’

Johnny could feel his balls exploding inside his scrotum sack, the veins of his cock were now so swollen. He couldn’t keep then fuck going much longer, his whole body was almost shuddering at seeing himself dressed as a skin fucking another.

Johnny had now grasped the skin’s cock through the denim. Both guys grunting with pleasure.

‘Now let that cum of yours out and shoot it up my arse. I’m ready to cum.’

‘I’m ready’ Johnny said looking one final time at the mirror ‘God I want to spurt every drop of my juice up that hole of yours. ‘Do it, do it now Fuck me.’

‘I’m coming jeez .’

And with that Johnny unloaded spurt after spurt of hot steaming white cum up the Skins arse. The Skin gasped as he shot his bolt inside his bleachers the cum oozing down inside the staining enlarging as the heat and thickness of his cum leaked through his bleachers.

As Johnny pulled his cock out so he felt lightheaded. It must be the energy it took to fuck. It was as if electrical charges were shooting through his body hot and spreading fast to every pore of his body. He felt different but in what way. He felt more as if he was a skinhead but was he? He looked at the mirror. The body was still him and so was the face but was it? The guy looking back at him had a winged eagle tattooed across his neck and when at he looked at his hands the word SKIN was tattooed on his fingers. Yes he was different but how he now looked was like the person he saw in his dreams. The hardened skin. This was not someone who he could call as a rent boy. He was now a rent boy skin.

‘You look fucking great mate/’

Johnny replied ‘I feel fucking great. I’d fuck that arse of your any time.’

‘Oh don’t worry mate you will. Time you went to work. Here’s an address for you . The punter is looking for a hard fuck. Time I took a short rest but I can see you are up for it. You are a rent boy now so earn your living. Opening his bag the skin took out a foot long thick black dildo

‘The bloke loves this up him before being fucked. He’ll love you. But no nice guy as he wants to be roughed up before getting fucked.’

Johnny replied. ‘Don’t worry mate I know what to do .That face of his will be red by the time I have slapped him around and think if I feel like it I might just slap his arse to heat it up before fucking.’

‘That’s me boy. He will pay you well. So off you go. I’ll wait here for you.’

Don’t worry mate I’m the best rent boy you will get working for you. The punters will love my throbbing dick up their arses and any trouble and I’ll fucking well nail them, Just make sure that rear zip is still open when I get back. Skin fuck skin.’

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mad-maximoff · 1 year ago

Text

We Met Again

Part 2 of When We Met since y’all asked so damn much! I just hope this one doesn't get censored too😅

Summary: You were on a 6-month-long mission with Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes only to come back to the compound and face Wanda.

Warnings: G!P reader, angst, making out, unprotected sex, ejaculation , soft sex turned rough, hair-pulling, breaking the bed (literally😂),

Word Count: 3,702

Prt 1 Here

"Welcome back Y/n, how was your little adventure with the boys?" Kate Bishop stood behind the bar making herself a pink alcoholic slush of some sort. You were covered in dirt and soot from head to toe. You just got off a mission with Sam and Bucky. You were in Egypt going about looking for a highly classified terrorist ring. Thankfully you got to them before they started their reign.

"Adventure my ass. I slept on the dirt while the boys slept in cozy beds like princesses. I tell you what I need is a shower and to take a well-deserved dirt nap in a real bed." You threw your weapons on the table halting at a chair and flinging off your boots. "I'll clean this shit up later Kat, I've been waiting for this." You turned to see Kate pouring herself a tall misshapen glass full of pink slush. "Sure thing Y/n, you and I are the only ones here I think. You want the rest?" She licked the side of her glass where she spilt. "Why not, might help me crash harder." You reached around Kate grabbing the whole blender. There was more than a mouthful left. You thought maybe it was strawberry daiquiri, so you thought nothing of it and chugged it. The first sip made you gag.

"Jesus Christ Bishop! Paloma? Really? What are you 40? You've been around Potts too long. Good lord.." You hated tequila, especially grapefruit. You polished it off not backing down leaving it on a table in the middle of the hallway. You knew there were empty beds not touched by any of the other Avengers. Basically new. It was funny really. Everything to you looked new but it was just the same as the last time you were down this hallway. Maybe it looked new because the last time you were here you were drunk with your pants around your ankles. Come to think of it. That table was new. You pivoted around noticing the table on further inspection. You saw a crack along the wall. Oh yeah, you remember. That was the spot. The spot where you and Wanda...

Yeah...Wanda...

You remember where her room was. You remember you crashed there after you both finished your fun in the hall. Curiosity killed the cat. You noticed the door was slightly cracked allowing light to shine through. But it was almost midnight, it wasn't natural light. It was from a light. Is she there? Did she forget to turn off the lights? Maybe. You pondered. Kate did say after all you two were the two here so it was bound she forgot. It's a common mistake.

You tip-toed over to her room letting your fingers creep through the part between the door and the wall slightly allowing the length of your fingers to pry the door a bit more. Your strength got the hold of you as it flung open. Wanda was sitting at the edge of her bed in her room, with her leg raised to lean her elbow on her knee, underneath her chin.

"Kate honey I told you for the third time today. We can drink and watch Sex and The City tomorrow. I don't feel up to it." She huffed watching the news. Her brows were furrowed, her eyes darting back and forth watching the live footage of whatever catastrophe happened. "So you're the one drinking Palomas huh?" You leaned in the door frame crossing your arms. You had to laugh. You never thought she was a cocktail girl. Though..you never thought she was the kind to give blowjobs either but you were surprised by both.

"Oh..it's you...no I don't drink that shit. She found Tony's recipe book for Pepper and his date nights and she's drinking like a fish...When did you come back to the States?" She was genuinely surprised to see me. Her leg fell from where it was prompted. Wanda stood up walking the length of her bedframe around to meet you.

You were shocked also. Maybe she wasn't showing yet? You swore you thought you'd come home and find her pregnant but unless she's super athletic or has it hidden she doesn't look like she's expecting.

"Ah 30 minutes ago. Um..stupid question.." You scratched your head looking down at Wanda then back up at her eyes. She laughed standing in front of you. Her hand reached to your cheek whipping the loose dirt from your undereye.

"Haha no! Unfortunately, I'm not pregnant. I don't know how. I always thought that first tries always work. I even helped you out a bit."

"Unfortunately? You wanted me to get you pregnant? Are you insane? You don't even know me and you want kids from me! I'm too young to have a family! Even with my powers...let alone, what gives you the right to choose for me!" You broke her hand away backing away. You had to leave or else there'll be bigger cracks in the wall.

"Y/n please, I never meant to hurt you. I just got confused that's all. You were so nice to me and after I lost Vis 2 times and lost my boys I just felt you comforted me. That's all." Wanda reached again grasping your bicep. You pulled away again this time hitting the wood casing around the frame with your elbow. The wood casing flew off behind you hitting the hallway floor.

"No! Don’t you dare touch me! All you cared about was yourself! Just because someone showed you comfort doesn't mean you let them cum inside you, Wanda! That's really fucked up! I'm sorry you lost your family but you can't just use me to play house!" You growled noticing your rage was becoming the better of you. Wanda through your eyes was becoming tiny. Her body language was making her small. Curling her fingers into the sleeves of her black cardigan, crossing her arm over to her elbow. She looked down at her bare feet letting out a shakey breath.

"I'm really sorry Y/n...I don't know what I was thinking. I've been so used to having people around me. That it feels weird to be by myself." Wanda's head was bowed letting her newly brown hair almost cover her head. A tiny tear ran down her blushed cheek wiping it away quickly.

All you saw was red. Not by Wanda's magic. But for some reason, you were enraged. How could you be this angry over something you fully did with Wanda 6 months ago? Maybe you do have a tiny bit of an anger problem. Little? In this case, that's an understatement.

You huffed feeling the hot pressure on your chest cool down to your stomach. You think seeing Wanda so visibly upset may have broken your cross attitude.

"Get used to it, Wanda." You had to storm off. If the conversation got any more heated; one of you was going to end up in a wall. And it was most likely going to be you. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe if I get some sleep and a good shower I can speak to her more clearly.

You thought gliding to one of the newly furnished rooms.

Each room had its own bathroom. Tony is a playboy so obviously the bathroom was soundproof. The entire compound was all technology so a press of a button and the bedroom could be soundproof. You didn't need that tonight. You wished there was a switch to soundproof your head.

How could I snap like that? I haven't done that in years! What the hell was I thinking to begin with?! You felt like you could stand under the hot water for hours. It took two layers of body wash just to scrub away the dirt from your body and finally feel human. Maybe you were scrubbing off your anger with it in a sense. You had your little outbursts but this one almost made you black out. Your lofa scraped at your skin furiously, leaving little imprints everywhere. Your back flexed in the mirror examining your clean body. Your hips were women but your shoulders and torso were the shape of a man. You had average-sized breasts. They were nothing special, they were nice to look at but nothing that could turn any heads. Perhaps you could say they were bigger than average but you never noticed.

You got out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your waistbone, as you inhaled walking to the foot of your bed your v-line showed every breath you took. You thought if someone was to walk in it would be less surprising seeing you topless instead of bottomless.

"Fuck...you got buff little one.." You gasped in fright hearing Wanda's quiet voice coming from the chair hidden next to the wall. Wanda's makeup was smeared all over her under her eyes. She was sniffling back what little tears she produced. She was crying heavily, using the sleeves of her cardigan. "What the fuck do you want now? Can't you see I'm busy? I'm not giving in to your mind games." You turned to face your back to her loosening the towel from your waist to dry your legs. You reached around putting on a pair of boxer briefs. You heard a creek come from the corner of your room knowing Wanda got up. Her bare feet were quiet on the hardwood but not quiet enough for you to hear.

"No mind games Y/n. I-I...wanted to apologize...you were right. I need to start learning how to be on my own. I deserve to be alone. I shouldn't have let you do those things to me." She held back a cry making her eyes gloss over.

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that. I was actually going to apologize to you. I don't know what came over me. I lost my temper too quickly. I haven't done that in years. I shouldn't have taken it out on you." Your hands lifted Wanda's chin to look at you, letting all of her hair fall back behind her shoulders. She looked like a baby raccoon. It was cute but you felt awful that she was crying because of you. "I'm so sorry Wanda." Wanda's hands placed around your hips, sliding herself closer to your body. You pulled her in deeper holding her close. Her head rested on your shoulder letting her finish her cries. Your hands caressed her skull, intertwining with her locs.

"It's okay..please, please stop crying. You're making me feel worse." You sat her down on the foot of the bed still massaging Wanda's head. She buried her face in your chest noticing her sobs being muffled into silent sniffles. One of your hands dropped placing it on her chest, directly on top of her heart. Her beats were rapid on the first touch, but once you dragged your fingertips along her skin she settled. Your other hand finally dropped rubbing her spine. She was frail in comparison to your body. Every muscle you flexed made it seem more apparent.

"Thank you," she sniffled, using her sleeve to wipe away her stained makeup. "Thank you very much Y/n. I feel like sometimes I can just go off the handle." Wanda wiped another tear with her sleeve again, the tears glossed in her eyes and made her pupils sparkle as she looked so passionately into your eyes.

"It's fine Wanda. We all go off the handle some days. I did it on you earlier. We just need to relax a little. The both of us."

╳°»｡ ∾･⁙･ ღ ➵ ⁘ ➵ ღ ･⁙･∾ ｡«°╳

You and Wanda laid down together in silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence however, it felt somehow to you a healing silence. You two didn’t need to talk, that’s what got you two into shit before. Just cuddling together. Wanda laid her head on your bare chest. You threw on a random stupid movie on TV, it was one of those goofy movies that two dudes probably smoked a joint and started filming. You didn’t like it; Wanda found it comical. She’d laugh at the slightest action or joke. 15 minutes later however she was silent. You peered down checking up on her. Her eyes fluttered, she was falling asleep. You twitched which made her jump.

“Jesus…what’s happened?” She whispered. I knew she fell asleep for a moment. You could hear it in her tone. Groggy and low.

“Nothing sorry. My leg just spasmed. It’s okay, you can go back to sleep.” Your hand ran down Wanda's thigh. Her skin was soft just like you remembered.

“Shut up, I wasn't sleeping.” She giggled rolling her head the other way.

“Oh I'm sorry, I just saw the stucco on the ceiling coming apart so I thought you were snoring.” You joked.

“Fuck off!” She laughed sitting up on your lap. “I do not snore!” Her hands grasped a fist full of your bare breasts in either hand. It felt good to be handled again. As soon as her hands touched you that way, you instantly felt you were getting hard. It wasn't an embarrassment any longer. You had another one-night encounter after Wanda that made feel 10x better about your appearance.

“No, that's just loudly humming in your sleep isn't it?” Your hands tightened around her hips slowly moving them back and forth. Wanda sucked air through her teeth letting a little gasp. "Ohh-stop!" She laughed biting her lower lip. "You want something else don't you detka?" Her dress grazed the front of your boxers, just to tease you.

"Perhaps. This time, it's on my terms. This time." Your hands pushed down on Wanda's thighs rubbing your forming bludge on the fabric of her panties. Her brows raised, turning her cheeks into a rose colour. "Really? Would you still want to? Even after everything I did?..."

“Of course.” You freed your hands from her thighs, swishing a strand of her hair away from her face looking into her emerald eyes. She giggled again looking down at your chest. “You’re tits are huge Y/n.” Wanda’s hands clutched my full chest. "I don't think I saw them last time." She squeezed each handful. You whinced with her nails digging into your skin.

"Ha! Well, I hope you remember something else's size." You joked lightly tugging at your boxers. “Hmm..I think I definitely need a refresher.” Wanda tugged the hem of her dress; pulling it over her head as her arms whisked it to the floor. Wanda’s hands jerked at the elastic band around your hips. Your fairly large erection greeted both of you with a fair shock as it bounced its way to freedom. “Oh yes, I remember now.” Her tongue folded against the tops of her teeth. Your hands held a firm grip on either side of Wanda’s panties ripping them off. “Seems you don’t need this huh?” She giggled letting out a small whimper. “Fuck-…can we stop all this talking Y/n? I really need you.” Your fingers trailed along her mound going further in her slit. Her inner core was silk. Your finger slipped inside effortlessly. Her little sounds became more low. “Oh…g-god.” Her head dropped down making her lips lay on mine. "Stop fucking teasing me..." She groaned as her teeth bit the bottom of my lip. "Okay, you asked for it." You flipped Wanda onto her back. The bed's feet raised as the bed made a thump. "Did you want condoms?"

"N-no. No, Wanda, I can pull out." You bent down locking your lips with hers again. "Haha..sure, sure you can Y/n." Wanda's eyes glowed red again briefly. "Fuck no more games. Just let me fuck you by myself." Your fingers slid between Wanda's folds before slipping your cock inside. She gasped curling her fingers into the sheets. Your hands planted on the mattress on either side of Wanda's head. She uncurled her fingers from the bedsheets, moving them around your wrists. Her breaths were choppy trying to get ahold. You thought she looked so beautiful underneath you, the way her skin naturally glowed, her pearly white smile chewing her bottom lip, the way she looked at you. Not in a loving way just yet, in an adoring way? A needing way.

"Go on. Keep making those pretty sounds for me, sweetheart." Your hips dove in feeling her walls coating you effortlessly. Wanda’s whines grew deafening, her eyes did not stop turning shades of red.

“Oh shit…y/n…uh-…” Wanda's head rolled back on the mattress. Dropping her jaw open. You began to thrust with a heavy pace. Becoming quick with every moan that escaped Wanda’s lips. The bed frame formed a squeaking noise with each pump into the brunette. Wanda’s leg had a hard time trying to stay afloat around your hips, slipping every movement you two shared. You stopped pulling out briefly.

“What-..Y/n? Why did stop?! Continuă…” Wanda cried out allowing her hands to fall scratching your biceps. “I will, don't worry. Go flip on your stomach, on your knees and bend over.” Wanda sighed a sly smile flipping onto her knees, arching her back letting her chest lay on the mattress. She glanced over her shoulder with her hair covering her face. Your hand traced her temple softly, leading your fingers into the brunette's long strands. Grasping a fistful of Wanda’s hair. You peered down watching your cock twitch in anticipation with Wanda’s ass sway in the same feeling of suspense. Your other hand grasped Wanda’s thigh sliding your shaft back into her slick folds.

“Oh…fuck-” Wanda sucked air through her teeth tilting her head down with your hand still tight on her hair. You did begin to thrust slowly as you once did, you began to ram yourself deeply inside the witch as though you were pushing through air. Wanda's hand gave out mid-pump landing on her chest. Her hands gripped the bedsheets as she tried to move her head to a more comfortable spot. "Fuck...you have such a nice ass." You twisted Wanda's hair around your knuckles applying a forceful tug. Her head raised leaving a spot of drool on the sheets. "Uh-huh!" Wanda's head cocked further to watch you. Your hand jerked the fistful of Wanda's hair pulling her hair as hard as you could muster without ripping all of her hair out entirely. Her body lifted off the mattress onto her knees. Her back pressed on your chest laying her head on your shoulder. "Oh god!...Shit!" Your wrist could not take it anymore, you let go of Wanda's hair allowing it to fall behind your shoulder. Your hand relaxed on Wanda's thigh attaching every finger around the softest part of her leg. Wanda's arm flung around your throat holding herself up. "Shit...I'm going to cum..." Wanda's moans were silent as she took a small breath. "Huh? Good baby...me too." You sighed out feeling yourself climbing higher and higher up to your point of no return. "Do it Y/n." Wanda used her knees bouncing her body against you.

"Do what Wand?" You groaned in her ear smelling her sweet perfume sweat off onto you. "Cum in me...please..." Her cheek heated on yours as you felt her jaw lock open not letting another sound out. "Y-you sure? I don't know." You did not want to take that chance again, you had some rendezvous with a certain green bulky woman in Egypt, knowing you mastered your craft of pulling out. If you did not get her pregnant 6 months ago, hell, you couldn't do it again right?

"F-fine...you want me to cum inside you huh?" You huffed tightening your grip on Wanda's thighs, the wooden bedframe continued to rattle. The frame began to bell out with your knees ready to cave. "Yes! Yes!"

"Yes, what?"

"Cum inside me Y/n! Fill me!" Wanda's voice shrieked out letting go of a low-toned moan. "Oh god! I'm cumming!" Wanda grasped firmly on your neck vibrating her entire body. Her eyes glow red tracing red mists around both of your bodies. "Fuck!" The pressure within you exploded, you could not think if it was you that came or if Wanda had some help to speed it up. You felt your cock throb spewing out your cum in the witch. She tried her best to make her body stay still, her thighs would not stop fidgeting. You bucked your knees forward to have Wanda fall on her stomach as you fell with her. The bedframe finally gave way as the mattress hit the floor. You both hit a thump, Wanda chuckled under your body softly as she took a quick breath. "Well, shit. How do you expect to explain this to Tony?"

"We'll blame Kate," You sighed wiping a bead of sweat from your brow. "She got too drunk and we found her jumping on the bed. Agreed?"

"Agreed detka. Let's get out of here. We can go to my room." You arose to see the bedposts still standing but the wood beams holding the bed just fell. "Well, this was a great welcome back." You stretched out your arms above your head hearing the cracks of your shoulder blades. "I'd say so." You stood up from the mattress whisking your boxers off the floor.

"Y/n? You don't need those." Wanda sat up on her knees running her hands through her hair. You bent over as you picked Wanda up by her thighs and wrapped them around your waist. "Haha! I sure do. I don't want to scare Kate if we run into her." You took hefty strides over to the bedroom door, making your way down the hall to Wanda's room. Wanda draped her hands around your neck giving a sly little smile as she looked over her shoulder. Her wrist flicked a red mist, you witnessed the red mist run down the staircase doing nothing after it left the stairs. "There. She won't bug us. I put her to sleep for the night. Now, we can have more fun."

"Good. Let's hope I don't break your bed this time."

"Well, don't promise that. I'd love you to ruin me." Her finger traced along your jaw down your throat. "Ask, and you shall receive."

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