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osaemu · 1 year ago

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GOJO SATORU: IT'S GONNA FEEL SO GOOD, I PROMISE!

.ೃ࿐ he's dreamt about fucking you for months, and now that you're finally in his sheets, he has no intent of letting you go—especially when he finds out that he's your first time. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. virgin!reader. kinda sorta subtle coercion, corruption kink, slight dubcon, fingering, p –> v, lots of praise!!, mentions of prior dirty dreams (about you).

author's note: had this stuck in my drafts for a while so uhhhh. yea enjoy. tagging @mymegumi bc i love selene ꨄ︎

"please, baby, it'll feel so good," satoru cooes, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling your face closer to his. "i promise i'll be gentle."

you shrug, scrunching up your nose at satoru hesitantly. "i don't know..."

your boyfriend presses his lips to yours briefly and smiles tenderly. satoru's soft eyes are fixed on you, only you as he widens them pleadingly. "i wanna teach you how to fuck. please, sweetheart, we can stop anytime. jus' wanna make you feel good, i promise!"

it's only partially a lie—yes, satoru certainly wants to teach you to fuck, but he's not entirely certain that he could just stop anytime. especially because he's well aware that fucking a virgin is such an addicting experience—satoru knows you're gonna be so tight that you'll just suck him in, and he isn't that confident that he'll be able to stop once he's started.

but whatever, that's a problem for later—for now, he's focused on persuading you to spread those legs for him and show him your pretty pussy.

you pause, considering his proposal. after a couple seconds, you nod hesitantly. "you promise you'll be gentle?" you ask meekly, averting your eyes.

satoru nods, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "of course—now c'mon, let's get those clothes off of you, baby." and a couple agonizing minutes later, you're half naked underneath a shirtless satoru, and his fingers trace the inside of your thigh.

"so first, i'm gonna make you cum on my fingers, 'kay?" satoru informs you. "needa loosen you up so you can take my dick."

"o-okay," you whisper, swallowing nervously. "i'm a little scared," you admit, fiddling with the waistband of your lacy underwear. "will it hurt?"

after a moment, satoru nods in response. "at first it will. but then you're gonna feel so good, i promise."

"you promise?"

"i do."

satoru tugs down your panties and grins at the sight of your pussy, untouched and reserved just for him. he's dying to just fuck you then and there, rough and no prep, but he made a promise. and satoru has no intention of breaking it.

"ready?" he breathes, positioning his fingers just outside of your entrance. when you nod, he shakes his head. "i'm gonna need to hear it from you, baby. use your words."

"i'm r-ready," you confirm, inching your thighs farther apart for him.

"good girl."

then satoru slips his fingers inside, and you can't suppress the sudden moan that slips out of your lips. to you, it's embarrassing, but to satoru, it's music to his ears. he steadily pushes his fingers farther and farther into your tight cunt, and satoru can't help but marvel at the way you just suck him in.

"you're so fuckin' tight," satoru mumbles, eyes fixed on your pussy. "and so wet, too. i've barely even touched you, fuck."

it's agonizing, really—the sensation of having someone else's fingers inside of you is so new and so strange that you can almost ignore the pain (which is present but not as throbbing as you had feared). satoru makes sure to be as gentle as he can, which unfortunately isn't quite as gentle as you'd like—but it's not too rough for you to handle.

satoru starts widening his fingers in a scissor-like motion, stretching you farther apart to make room for his already rock-hard dick. you squirm around him and whine about how deep his fingers are, but satoru dismisses your complaints with a laugh. "c'mon, this is barely the beginning. if ya can't take this, how're you gonna take my dick?"

a couple minutes later, when satoru finally deems you loose enough, he pulls out his now-drenched fingers. looking you in the eye with a smug smile, he slips his fingers into his mouth and licks your slick off of them. "mm, you taste so good, pretty. lemme see if you feel as good as you taste, yeah?"

and that's how he convinces you to keep your thighs nice and spread wide open for him as he positions the head of his dick at your entrance, practically trembling from the effort it takes to not just pound into you. you're so compliant and perfect for satoru, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to push you up against the headboard and fuck you until you pass out.

but somehow, he manages to control himself. "alright, baby, this is gonna hurt," satoru warns, touching his reddening tip to your soaked pussy. "you ready?"

"y-yeah," you breathe, distantly noticing the way your hands start to tremble. satoru exhales softly and shakes his hair out of his eyes before gently pushing himself inside of you, and the first thought that enters your head is that he's ridiculously big—it feels like you're getting torn apart every second he goes in farther.

"satoruuu," you whine, starting to paw at his chest when he goes in farther, and it's too much, too fast, but he only grins down at you in response. "it hurts, ow... y're too—"

"uh uh, just shut your pretty mouth n' take it," satoru groans, shifting the angle of his hips and going in a little deeper. you cry out in pain, face scrunching up in an effort to numb the stinging sensation around your waist. satoru dips his head and kisses your forehead, murmuring praises on how well you're doing.

"it'll feel so good soon, i promise, baby," he insists, pressing his lips to the spot in between your eyes. "you're takin' me so good, fuck— agh, you're so damn tight, this one's gonna hurt like hell, but you can take it, yeah? my pretty princess, you'll do anythin' i say, won't ya..."

satoru doesn't give you a chance to respond before he says something about this being the last stretch, but his words don't really sink in until he's two more inches deep into you. his last thrust is so sudden and jarring that it makes you cry out his name, over and over and over until the pain evident on your face starts to turn into something that looks a lot like... pleasure?

a self-assured smile grows on satoru's flushed face when he sees the chance, and a thousand more words of praise fall from his lips. your vision's a little fuzzy in the corners, and your mind is all but gone—it's hard to focus on anything but the slowly fading pain.

satoru starts to move his hips back and forth, easing your loosening cunt into him and nodding at the way you slowly start to show signs of wanting more. your eyes brighten up a little and you seem more alert the longer satoru opens you up.

"startin' to feel good now?" he asks, smiling smugly when you nod your head. "yeah, told you so." the prominent blush on his face starts to creep down his neck, and when you reach up and tentatively touch his cheek, that's when he loses it.

it takes every drop of self-restraint in his body to not flip you over, face-down and ass-up and fuck your tight cunt the way he's dreamed about for months. satoru's imagined it for so long that it's practically a reality for him—the way you would whimper his name and claw at the sheets, the way you would cum all over him too many times to count, all of it. he's seen it a thousand times in his head, but having his fantasy so close and yet so far drives him insane.

but as you smile up at him, the almost unnoticeable tremble in your bottom lip assures him that this probably isn't the time. after all, you're not leaving him anytime soon, so he might as well train you first before even attempting any of that on your perfect, untouched body.

"what do i do now?" you ask, and the simplicity of the question is almost childish. especially when satoru almost laughs in response, soft blue eyes glinting with amusement.

"jus' lie there and stay pretty f'me. and keep your legs spread wiiide open," satoru cooes, shaking his hair out of his eyes only for it to fall right back in.

"yeah, you're doin' so good that i don't even buy that you were a virgin—or are you just naturally made for me, huh? maybe that's it, 'cause i swear on my life that i've never fucked a cunt this fuckin' pretty, heh."

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legionofpixelhorses · 1 year ago

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I've came to a conclusion that I should not be presented with draft breeds

Like at all

#horse isle 3 #homophobic horse game #time to add auvergnes jaca navarras russian heavy drafts and mayyybee local moldovans to my list of 'obscure shit I breed'#also due to Jingle the magical LF no.100 guanzhongs are growing on me #girl help the maximum barn slots allowed are 800 and I'd need an excel sheet to manage so many projects #aaaa halp

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pedrospatch · 9 months ago

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flutter

Jackson! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.

“Shit.”

You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?

Over the last few months, there’d been changes.

Some subtle and some not so subtle.

“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”

She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.

“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”

During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.

“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”

You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.

One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.

Not until now.

“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”

“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”

Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.

It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.

“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.

Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.

After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.

He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.

You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.

Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”

“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”

One stern glare from her had shut you right up.

“Fine.”

Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.

You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.

With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.

“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”

“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”

“You’re bigger!”

With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”

She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.

“You look different. I mean, you look great—”

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“Deal.”

She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner.

“You get your fractions homework done?”

“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”

Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”

“Sure.”

As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.

“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”

“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.

Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”

Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”

“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”

Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.

Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.

And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.

In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.

You bite back a small sigh.

By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”

“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”

You hear a chair scrape against the tile.

“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”

“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.

He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair.

The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.

Uncomfortable.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.

“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”

“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?”

He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”

You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”

Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.

“Mhm,” is all he says.

Your smile falters.

It’s the middle of August.

The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.

“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”

He’s met with silence.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”

Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”

“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”

Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.

“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”

Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”

“Huh?”

“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”

Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”

“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten.

“What are you afraid of?”

Joel almost laughs.

He doesn’t know where to start.

He’s afraid of everything.

“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”

“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”

“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”

“Joel—”

“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”

Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.

“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”

“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.

“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”

He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”

“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home.

“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.

“What does it fucking look like, man?”

“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”

Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.

“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”

Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.

He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.

He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.

He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.

Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.

Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.

He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.

The man you both needed.

Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?

He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.

“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”

“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.

Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.

He waits.

And waits.

Until the minutes turn into hours.

Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains.

Until he finally feels that little flutter again.

He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.

He’d just felt the baby’s movement.

There’s a sudden shift.

Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.

His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.

Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.

With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.

Maybe his brother’s right.

Maybe he will be just fine.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

#tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #fic: snapshots

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dilf-docs · 1 month ago

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I'm Happy Where The Devils Are

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: something something about forbidden things; you never learn, not until the heart you gave returns to you in shreds, bleeding out of love. what's left when you've given all of your heaven away? hell.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (but this time it's sad not hot or both idk), smut, p. in v., virgin!reader, (forced??) creampie, fingering, riding, oral (f. receiving), corruption kink, reader has no daddy issues ++her dad is lovely nor mommy issues like me but a secret third thing, ANGST IN CAPITAL, situationship™, jumping very late to this trend or series IDK hope someone still lurks around this neighbourhood, joel has no kids and is unmarried cause i need him to be BITTER, in short this is very AU canon divergence at max coded

word count: 7,629 words

side note: IF U SAW IT POSTED BEFORE NO U DIDN'T IT WAS A HONEST MISTAKE (clicked publish instead of save draft) OKAY i just searched thru my top 2024 songs by spotify for some inspo and well!!!!!! my yet to be dilf RM's (or joon as i, his wife, loves to call him endearingly) song called heaven popped up! those are the vibes if u wanna give it a listen (PLS DO OKAY HE RANKED TOP KOREAN ALBUM THIS YEAR AND I SEE I'M GETTING OFF THE HOOK BUT HE DESERVES IT RAHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH) and yk i said it's got the miller vibe going on: ANGST™ okay stopping my rambling and letting y'all enjoy (or suffer, idk anymore: as u see, i have a thing for sad complicated old man and suffering myself, because i could've choose any other idea but here goes user dilf-docs the angst whore choosing to suffer again lolz)

part: I / II

It was winter when he first touched you.

Joel Miller: a name you've learned to pronounce like it was spoken on a different language that only you knew.

You've known him for years, a familiar face that stands in corners and only laughs when spoken to, begrundingly, like it's rather a favor than something of his amusement. A guy who would drop by your house until you learned his name like he'd learn the games you'd force him to play. A friend of your dad, who moved back to town and has haunted your house since he stepped a foot inside, tainting the walls with his pine phantom.

Joel's a face you've seen age as much as he's seen you grow out of your pigtails and child-like wonder: and perhaps that's why it's wrong.

It is all so wrong: the way your gaze lingers a bit too long over his tired and bitter expresion, looking for those flickers of softeness that appear when your dad calls him. Old friend, filled with affection, and Joel can't deny the only man who hasn't left his side a smile that he hopes is enough to express what he can't; he's not good with words.

It is all so wrong: how the sheets stick to your body while you scream his name, the sound drowning against your pillow, your body leaking with the secret of an unspoken desire that gets harder to hide with each passing day.

But you can't help it: one day the feelings started to blossom and the admiration left for the crush to harvest until it fully bloomed in your chest. Its petals have asfixiated you ever since.

On winter, you returned to town, like a vice. You always came back for the holidays, a silver of hope that shouldn't exist. You felt it in the air, impregnated with a heartbreak so cutting, it was hard to remember when the winter carried the happiness it should've; all that's left was the cold, harsh feeling.

"Y/n!" your dad embraces your body on a hug as warm as a fireplace, "you're home"

He passes you around the people over, because that's how he always is: joyful, the house full with guests that don't stop at family, but feel as close as those of blood. She came! he loudly yet proudly announces your homecoming, adding small sprinkles of how's college and how smart his little girl is (a nickname he can't let go of, not caring if you were ten then and now just above twenty), not caring if your face is as red as christmas easters.

"You have to stop, dad" you plead with annoyance, but a small smile betrays you, "no one wants to hear how I'm top of my class again, for the millionth time"

"Well, it's my house" he jokes, "so they better get used to it" he then looks around the room, as if he's forgetting something, "ah, someone I must bore with your stories is missing..."

He talks to some more people around and you have to plaster a smile and salute faces you can't recognize, but as on cue, the door flings open, some people near the entrance greeting a face you've yet to see and recognize. Your father gets there first, the smile that spreads across his face making your stomach tie in knots.

"Joel's here!" he delivers with excitement, unaware of how your polite smile falters.

"Joel's here" you repeat, grief laced within your words. Grief of what? You don't know, but you do know a part of you dies the more you look at Joel Miller the way you're not supposed to.

"Come say hi" your father insists, happy in his ignorance, despite your paced walk and stiff demeanor.

And walking your way is him, the man who owns your heart without knowing.

His hair is still as soft as ever, more tints of grey sprinkled through it. Your fingers itch to trace it, so you keep your fists closed until the red nails dig into the tight white flesh. He has more wrinkles, pronounced when his brows furrow at the sight of you.

"I know she's grown a lot, but I hope you still recognize her" your dad says with affection, "isn't she beautiful, my y/n? Grown into a whole lady"

Your heart hammers against your chest as Joel looks you up and down, but there is no emotion across his face.

"It's only been a year, but sure, she has" as stoic as ever, but it's enough to make your nerves wreck. You can't believe how much a simple stare and a few words can get to you.

But you were always like this: weak. Back then, at kindergarten grounds, when making a friend seemed the hardest task. Now, at university, when you wonder if something is wrong with you that always makes you the last option to choose.

Maybe that's why Joel, a man so strong in appearance and character, never liked you: that all those memories were a dream, and he just did it as an extension of his affection for your dad.

You'll never forget that dinner last year, on these same days, when for the first time, both your parents left you alone with Joel, their guest for the night. There was a storm outside, and it was almost funny how the brash wind against the window mimicked your steady heart. You didn't know he was coming, but when you did, you put on your best dress on purpose and dusted a makeup palette a friend gave you, yet he didn't even look your way.

"Do you hate me, Joel?" you asked in a whispered breathe, the cold silence as answer.

It's contradictory, really: your love grows where his hate does. More like hate, it's a disregard so cruel, you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with you, making you attached to an older man that only seems to have apathy for you. Because one thing is attraction, but other is the deep adoration where you'd die if he were to ask you.

It's your fault, really, for turning his life into folklore. You still remember sitting on your father's lap as he talked your ear off, full of stories that Joel, always by his side, would quietly laugh, the fireplace casting shadow over a man who seemed to overpower the darkness that now is palpable on his gaze. He'd said your dad was making him greater than he really was, pinching your cheeks as he called you sugar, reasoning you were so sweet.

But since last year, something shifted: he started avoiding you, like he resented you.

And you never understood why. So every season you've searched in his eyes for a sign, anything, that can make you go back to that speacial relationship you had, missing him like a little kid. It's been a year, and you feel, if possible, more at loss than before.

Back to now, it's almost midnight, and most of the guests have gone already. You've tried to look cool in the eyes of those who are still there, conversation flowing easily through your eggnog-tinted tongue, yet you know it's all pretend.

"Excuse me" you can't take it anymore, the air suffocating you in anxiousness.

"Where are you going?" questions your mom, stopping you in your tracks before going up the stairs.

You turn around and feign a smile, "Up to my room"

"Are you okay?" your dad asks with worry.

"Yeah, just tired" you lie with ease, and the miles you've driven back it up.

"If you need anything, just tell" she says.

When you fall against the mattress, all the weight settles in. You close your eyes and count to ten, breathing in and breathing out.

The door creaks, so you get up as you open your eyes. "Dad" you start, knowing he's all about giving you talks, "Not now, please-"

"M' not y'r daddy"

You shiver despite the closed windows.

"Joel!" you jump, straightening yourself, "did dad send you?"

He doesn't respond, looking at you through brown warm eyes that reveal nothing. The pit in your stomach grows along awkward silence.

"It's cold outside, isn't it?" you attempt to make conversation, hating the silence. But you fail: he's still here, and regardless of his indifference, he doesn't leave.

Maybe it's the bit of alcohol from before, but you're standing over until you get close to his resting figure against the doorframe, the darkness of your room leaving his face, now barely lit by the light outside in the hallway. Joel's so close you can hear his breathing, and it surprises you the way it drags like a cigarette.

You feel confident for the first time, defiant even, tired of it all, like if it was his fault you loved him. You're sick of him viewing you like a naive kid who knows no better.

"Joel, why are you here?"

The lavender gets under his nose, his skin on fire. He looks at you again, but this time, the brown in his eyes darkens.

"Joel...?" you ask on a shaky breath.

Before you can register, there's warmth against your cheek. His fingers graze your face with an unspoken yearning on his fingertips, as he gently grabs your chin.

Your breath hitches, hand traveling to feel his on your face, to see if it's real and not a dream.

"Joel, what are you doing?"

He backs up, like your touch burns. And then looks at you, as if you're a stone on his shoe: just like all those boys back at the city, who have rejected you. You feel small, like crying.

"M' sorry" and walks out of your room, his scent up your nose. His limping figure walks down the hallway that now looks longer. You don't realize how long you've stared until you hear your father ask downstairs where was he.

It's like he was never there.

It was spring when he first kissed you.

It's funny how you still came back home after such disastrous holidays.

Joel stayed for the rest of the holidays, including Christmas and New Years, and when he hugged you in the living room full of guests, you had to pretend his fingers hadn't hold you differently before. You both lied your way out, and when you left, for the first time, you felt relieved, which is why it took some convincing from your father to make you return for spring.

"You couldn't miss this" he insists, "it's the best time to visit the cabin"

And you have to agree: a small cabin by the lake that your parents bought when they first moved in to town, a place you spent most of your childhood. Your father taught you how to fish there, and ever since, even as you moved away for college, you came back to do so, a tradition kept intact despite the years.

Your mom looks at you from the rear view mirror. "He wouldn't stop talking about it, afraid you wouldn't join us this year" your dad hushes her, embarrased, "oh! Don't act like you didn't"

Truth is, you'd still come: you miss the green tickling your bare feet, the cold water, and the sun kissing your skin as you lay outside. It's a lie you don't wait all year to leave the cold city and embrace the blooming spring.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, dad" you lay against the car's door, closing your eyes as you smile. He doesn't say anything, yet with the way your mom giggles, you know he probably got teary or something―your sappy old man.

The car stops, the cabin in front of you. You feel like crying, so many memories flooding you. Alright, you're being sappy just like your dad, but it's been a hard semester and you missed your family.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you something" he says as you get out. The small denim short rides up as you stretch, your legs numb from the trip.

"Yeah?"

A car honks from behind. You jump, loosing balance as you trip. "Ow!" you land on the grass, embarrasingly so.

"C'mere" you look up, the sun blinding his face. "Lemme help ya', sugar"

The nickname feels like a slap to your face, so you stay there stupid, body stiff as you raise up, Joel's face flooding your field of vision.

"That's what I forgot to tell you" your dad laughs, "or who"

You're not laughing. Joel Miller is here and it's ruines your trip.

"Well, you should've" you took his hand just for the show, because you know your mom is observant. If there was an electric rush, you must've imagined it, just as the way his hands fall to his sides, twitching.

Over the next couple of days, you try to ignore him as much as you can, pretending your spring hasn't changed: fishing, laying down, sun and baths.

"Hey"

Your sun glasses rest on your nose as you raise from your spot, laying on a towel on the grass as you sunbathe.

"What'd want, Joel?" your tone is icy, contrasting the warmer climate.

"M' going to the lake" he mumbles, then stays silent. It's almost as if he's waiting for you to answer.

"Okay?" you lay down again, "have fun"

"Y'r dad said you'd teach me" he raises a fishing row.

You groan in annoyance, getting up from your spot, "why doesn't he do it?"

"Said y'r the best" then coughs, "besides, I think him and your momma needed some time alone..."

You walk past, shoulder brushing against his. You've never been this childish before, but your anger fuels your emotions: rage when you see him and remember how the warm of his touch turned cold in seconds.

You arrive at the small dock, sitting on the rather hot wood. You don't flinch, trying to prove nothing. Joel sits next to you and makes a face at the burning sensation.

"What?" you mock, venom dripping from your tone, "can't handle some heat?"

He just scoffs, passing the row to you with a little more force than necessary.

Your petty revenge is splashing his shirt, damping the cotton with the lake's water.

"I'm sorry" you apologize, feigning an innocent tone, "wanted to freshen up"

"Thought ya could handle the heat" Joel grumbles.

Then he curses under his breath, taking the shirt off and tossing it to the side.

You take in now shirtless body, admiring the strong muscles, broad shoulders and sturdy back. He sits next to you, his belly pushing just above the seam of his shorts. You recoil, almost as if heat radiated off his body, your cheeks burning. Your hands tremble as you hold the row, and it takes every strength of you to not succumb to the dangerous view; it's all too tempting.

"Y'r gonna teach me or what?" he breaks your train of thoughts, his voice so low, as if you were a little animal he was trying not to scare off, "just gonna stare? Ain't y'r daddy taught ya some manners?"

A current shoots through your body and looses itself in the middle of your legs.

You divert your gaze, ashamed. "Don't know what you're talking about"

"Liar" but it's so soft, it sounds more like an observation than an accusation.

"Drop it, Joel" you focus on the water but you know your mind is elsewhere.

"Sugar..."

You feel like throwing up. Why after ignoring you is he calling you like he used to? When he was your favorite person in the world and you were his. He used to hold you close, but now acts like your touch is poisoned. Joel confuses you too much; he's got you feeling like screaming at the sky.

"I said drop it, Joel" you seethe, "you may be old, but you're not deaf"

"And you may be young" his fingers remove the glasses from your face, your wary eyes in exhibit, "but y'r too bold"

They stay there, on your face, his rough fingertips touching your soft sun-kissed skin.

You don't know why you do it, but you do.

You get up, your legs on his face. Until then, you don't realize how close you two were.

"I'm not bold, Joel" you whisper, "I'm scared"

And then you jump.

The world reduces to a blur, body as light as a feather. The sensation of falling is familiar and you don't know why.

It's barely a second, like a blink.

The cold water hitting your body brings you back to reality.

You can't see, it's all dark. But you feel free: you may be underwater, but over him.

You feel like you got the upper hand, but then the water starts moving and a huge splash next to you makes you look back.

Joel jumped too.

"What are you doing?!" you shout.

What are you doing to me? What do you want from me? What will you do to me?

"Takin' a splash" he answers, like it's obvious.

"You know what I meant" your tone is rather spiteful.

"And you had'a teach me" he's again in front of you, barely inches away, "so I guess we're both dissapointed we didn't get what we wanted"

There's water dripping from his hair, falling to his face. Water drops adorn his eyelashes, warm eyes deeper than ever, and you feel like drowning even as your body floats.

"And what do you want?" you challenge, the question implying only so much.

His lips clash into yours, hungry like a wolf. Your hands immediately grip his neck for support as his tongue forcefully gets inside of you, water droplets filling your taste buds. You gasp for air, all of your body pressed against his.

"That answer y'r question?" tone defiant, as if he's also a player on this game that's just started.

You just don't know yet how much you've got to loose.

It was summer when he became yours.

You'd never anticipated coming back home as much as now.

The lingering feeling of his scruffy beard against yours, back pressed against the walls of the shed at midnight while he devoured your lips in a hungry kiss has stayed with you since you left the cabin, trapped in the salt air. Now you're coming back for more, butterflies in the low of your belly as you remember his words:

"When y'get back, I'll have ya' a surprise"

You park at your house, searching for the keys under the rug, but they aren't there. You knock to no answer, so you call your dad and mom, only for both of the calls to go directly to voicemail. Yes, you came a day earlier than planned, but your parents are always home the week you arrive, so something must be going on.

Before you worry, a voice behind you says:

"Ain't nobody inside. Y'r folks went out"

It's Joel, looking as good as the last day you saw him. Just to taste him again, you were complaint on every single of his requirements, one being no contact. He claimed he didn't want to distract you back at college, and you didn't ask any more questions, afraid you'd press a wrong button and loose what felt like a dream.

"Really?" you walk out of your porch to where he is, resisting the urge to kiss him in the middle of your neighbourhood's street.

"Hmh" he nods, "said they ain't comin' back soon"

"They told you so?" you question, "why do I feel you had something to do with it?"

"Ain't do shit" he crosses his arms, the t-shirt sleeves making his arm muscles more prominent. He then coughs, "just recommended y'r dad a nice restaurant outside town. Maybe they'll be later than night, traffic is kinda packed at late"

You smile, "Joel?"

He doesn't look at you, "yes?"

You fail to suppress a giggle, "did you just get rid of my parents?"

"No" he answers, stern. "Now" he looks around, all doors closed, "why don't 'cha come inside? Sun is hittin' hard"

He's a terrible liar.

As soon as you enter his house, you can't believe you've never been there before, visits usually in your house.

It's exactly what you expected: a simple and sober decoration that hides a welcoming feeling somewhere. There's something else you notice: the lack of pictures.

"Make yourself comfortable" he says, coughing, looking akward all of a sudden. You want to laugh and coo his now insecure demeanor, shy in your present. If he seemed sure before, he doesn't anymore. "I''ll get ya' some water"

"Joel?" your voice comes out low, equalling a purr. His cock twitches in his pants at the way you call him.

"Yes?" he swallows, adam's apple bobbing.

"I hope you didn't bring me into your house just for a glass" then you sit on the couch, the small short you're wearing riding up your thighs. "Besides, I'm not thirsty"

He doesn't move, almost as if he's lost the ability to react; in a trance.

"What do you want?" voice deep, like he'd give you anything you ask.

"Have you forgot already, old man?" you quip. "You promised me something" even if your voice is steady, your fingers tremble when you start un-buttoning your shirt, "and I'm waiting for it"

If he could drool like a dog, he would. He slowly gets closer to you, until he's towering over your sitting figure.

"Ya' think it's funny tempting me like that, sugar? Playing with an old fuck as me like that?"

You whimper, resolve melting quickly. "N-no" you feel ashamed, hand ready to button yourself again until his hand grabs yours, stopping you from doing so.

"I'm sorry, sugar" he raises your body swiftly, making you stand up. "Actions have consequences, and I'm gonna teach ya' some"

When his lips land on yours, you feel you've reached heaven again. His mouth easily know your roads, traveling to every spot he can to deepen the kiss. He eats you out like he's starved, sweat starting to pool in your foreheads. He grabs you by the waist, pulling your closer if possible, your chest clashing against his pecs. His heart hammers against you, and that's all you hear aside your raggedy breaths and famished clashing. You grab his hair again, feeling the soft texture under your fingers. Joel moans against your lips when you bite his, something a friend told you to do, and it's proven to work.

"Where'd you learn that, huh?" you taste like strawberries, the proof on his now coated shiny lips and your disheveled gloss. His grip turns stronger, "thought ya' were innocent, little vixen"

"I still am" you avoid his gaze, and even if his hold falters, when you look again into his eyes, there's a flame burning in them. "But I want you to have it, Joel"

"Sugar-" starts, condescending.

"Don't" you immediatly cut him off. "I'm an adult, I know what I want"

"I just want ya' to be sure" but his cock is already hard, "don't want ya' to regret it"

"I could never regret you, Joel" you whisper.

He picks up your body, that despite the years, is still as strong as ever. He goes up the stairs, looking at you so lovingly, you feel like anything is possible.

Maybe this is how it feels like.

He softly drops you onto the mattress, that dips under your weight. You place yourself against the bed head, and when Joel gets in, it creaks.

"I'm gonna make ya' feel so good, sugar. I promise" he slurs, "Now be a good girl and open up for me"

Your part your legs, and he's taking down your shorts until your lingerine is exposed. With wandering fingers, he traces your inner thights, delighted at the way you squirm under his touch. He then travels to your pussy, the clothe the only thing separating him from your bare cunt.

"Has anyone eat ya' down here before?" he can smell your arousal, seeing the wet spot in the middle of your panties. He's salivating at the fresh meal. You deny, embarrased, but he seems content at that, "those dumb college boys haven't treated you right? Then lemme show y'how a real man's supposed to eat ya'"

He strips you off your panties, landing somewhere on the floor. You shudder at the sudden breeze on your bare core.

"Already drippin' for me?" he softly laughs, "we ain't even started"

He dives down, the rough of his facial hair sending tickles through your body. He gives a small lick at first, as if testing. When you let out a small moan, he feels invencible. He keeps the ministrations going, more cute sounds escaping your lips. He wants to hear more of them, addicted to the sound, heat pooling when he remembers he's the one causing them.

"Liking it, sugar?" he stops to ask, his voice provoking more vibrations that hit your core in a pleasant way.

"D-don't stop" you plead in the middle of a whine.

He eats you like a madman. Slurping and sloshing sounds bounce off the walls, your hands gripping his greying locks tightly as his face pushes further into your puffy heat, sucking on the sensitive clit. With his filthy mouth, he takes on of the lips on his mouth, robbing a loud groan out of you.

"Your pussy, God" his breath fans against it, "tastes so good, sugar, sweet like you" he licks more, making it get wetter. You didn't know you had that in you, nothing compared to when you tried to touch yourself back at your dorm, too ashamed to try anything else.

He groans against your heat, sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

He then gets up, showing you his thick digits like one shows something new to a baby, "guess what?" you have no idea, and your innocent doe eye'd gaze makes him squirm at the thought of being the first to touch untainted territories (in many ways).

"M' gonna finger you baby, okay? I promise's gonna feel good" Joel assures as he slowly inserts one of his fingers. You arch your back as you felt his fingers in your warm walls. He then puts another, thick fingers in and out of your pussy, your arousal dripping down his wrist. You squirm and whine, thighs shaking at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. There's a weird tension happening down there. "J-Joel" you pant, "I feel-"

"Let it go, sugar" he doesn't stop, "I'm here for ya' and y'r sweet cunt"

Liquid soon gushes out. "Fuck" he curses. You shy away and looking everywhere but his eyes.

"Feels good?" you nodded incoherently, "wanna feel even better?"

He gets rid of his pants, the silhoutte hard under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it.

"Joel..." you call his name, hesitant. Fuck, he's so horny he could care less if he's too big for your first.

"We'll go slow" he leans forward to kiss your forehead, "I know'll take it"

"O-okay" you're still not sure and a bit afraid, but you want him, so you surrender to him.

You feel something heavy go inside your folds. You look down to see his enormous cock sliding in between your tight walls, the skin glistening in your slick,round tip leaking with his precum.

"Tell me" he's soft on you, despite what you're doing, "I'll stop if it hurts"

It does. It burns: how your cunt tries to adapt to his girth, stretching in a painful but delicious feeling.

"N-no" your voice comes out strained, drops of blood falling into the sheets, "keep going"

"Such a greedy thing are ya'?" Joel laughs, truly laughs, the rich sound coming deep from his chest, "what would daddy say?"

"Shut up" you bite, holding onto his shoulders for stability. Please, don't let me fall.

Half way in, he pulls out before diving back in, helping you adjust to his size slowly. Your eyes are trained on the way his cock disappears inside your leaking pussy.

"Should'I keep goin'?" he asks.

"K-keep going" you say softly, and with that, he gently starts inching into you.

"Good girl" he coos.

His cock stretches out your virgin hole perfectly, like it was meant for him. He feels himself melting at the sight of you, something to worry about later. Not now, when your breath hitches as he fills you up. Your cunt fit snug around his length, like you were made for him.

Joel drops his head on your shoulder as he fully entered you, tired, his energy not as much as when he was young. Beads of summer sweat shimmer in your bodies, as not only that but the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his dick make you warm.

Joel takes in a moment to see the mess he's made of you: parted lips, shut eyes, nails digging on his neck. You were deep in pleasure: because of him. His dick twitches at that, and inside of you, it makes you whimper.

"M' gonna start movin', 'kay? Tell me if it's too much"

His weight presses over your body before starting to pull out and push back in. The thrusts start slow, soon picking up a rhytmic pace. Joel grips your hips with his rough big hands, to then start fucking into you.

"Mhm" you whine.

"Mhm, what? Use your words, sugar"

"I-it feels so good, Joel" despite the pain, despite the doubts, the haze is so envolving, he's made of you a moaning mess, drunk in pleasure; the feeling of him inside of you has you seeing stars.

"Y-you feel good too, baby" he pants, your pussy gushing at each thrust. He starts going harder, making you scream.

"Who you belong to, sugar?" his hot breath pours in your ear, "say it"

"You, Joel" you whisper the answer like a sacred oath, "Just you. I'm all yours"

Before you can say anything else, his dick touches a spot within you. Such a sweet spot, that has you moaning and feeling something unlike anything you've experienced before: it washes over you as you clamp down on him. You hear yourself cry, voice barely recognizable. Your vision goes blurry, then mind blank.

Joel groans with your pretty cries of pleasure, watching the way your cunt milks his cock, drooling with your juice.

"Such a nice girl for me, sugar. Did so well" he whispers, and a dark tought crosses his mind. He feels dirty, taking advantage of your age and naivety, your figure still half-gone, "think you want me, all of me?"

You nod, still out of your mind, and before you can process the real meaning of his words, hot stripes of his seed plaster your walls, coating each inch of you. Joel presses his lips into yours to shut your moans, kissing you hard.

"You good?" you can only nod, still in shock, the events dawning over you. "Don't worry, I'll buy ya' a pill before your folks come back"

The sun shines outside; there's still time. You just wonder how much.

It was autumn when he said I love you.

Yellow and orange leaves fall in the roads not taken as you've fallen for Joel.

Ever since summer, you've been waiting for the next time to see him: sleeping with him being the last thought, touching yourself to his voice on your mind, drawing hearts in the bylines of your notes. His figure, first a dream, then a fleeting hope and now a high you need to feel once again, because you can't let go of the way he fucked you, your cries of pleasure, how your walls stretched for him and the way he held you that afternoon and the next nights you escaped your house, crossing the street under the moonlight, hiding as a criminal.

But you'd do anything to feel him, his heart beating against your chest like it was yours to bear. You need to see him, so you're doing the most stupid choice of your life.

There's a pause after you knock, and then Joel opens his door.

"Sugar!" he looks surprised, then angry and finally scared. "The fuck you doin' here? Ain't you supposed to come 'til winter?"

"I couldn't wait" you whine in desperation, clinging onto him like a koala. You'd searched for something, anything, that smelled like him back at the city, but even his flannel shirt you'd stolen had started to loose its smell.

He looks around, "do your-"

"No" you pause, "they don't know I'm here"

He curses under his breath, realizing just how much you're deep in this. He's fucked: fucked because he'll comply even if he knows this has to stop.

"I have the keys" you pick the dirt under your nails, a nervous habit of yours, "for the cabin"

Joel remembers last spring, how he ate you inside the walls of the shed, wishing for more. More came the next summer, and now you're hear again, looking at with with that look he hates: like you'd burn the world just to keep him warm.

"How'd you do that?"

"Took them last summer" you reveal your plan all along, "just in case" yet you had already made your mind before leaving town.

"Damn it, sugar" he's speechless, "you're fucking crazy"

You giggle despite the uneasiness creeping up, "just for you, Joel"

He takes you to the cabin on his car, yours already there. And you'd walked to his house? You have indeed, lost your mind.

"What're we supposed to do?" he thinks out loud.

You groan, "I don't know, Joel. But I didn't drive miles just for you to stand there"

He can't lie and say he hasn't thought about you: your lashes, soft when closed; the way his room still smelled like you even after two weeks of your parting, or how the sun seemed to highlight all your perfect spots. He even thinks of you on his bathroom while he grabs his dick, fucking himself to the memorized song of your moans and uneven breaths as he pulled in and out of you.

"Then get inside" he's demanding, and your panties wet at the tone and the voice you missed so much, "it's cold out'ere"

As soon as you close the door, he's grabbing your face with force, that it almost seems like two people fighting, not two who missed each other.

"Joel" you mumble, breathless.

"Missed ya' so much, sugar" he confesses against your lips. A trail of saliva hangs; silver of hope. "It was killin' me"

"I missed you too, Joel" you deepen the kiss, tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about you"

"Yeah?" he sits on the living room's couch, creaking under the sudden weight. "Tell me what that pretty head of yours was thinkin'"

"You" in a heartbeat, and you see his gaze go from dark to something else, lurking behind; you're scared to find out what it is.

Joel motions you to come over. You take your shoes and pants off, siting on his lap.

"Yeah-?" his voice falters, "tell me what"

"How our names sound together, how pretty you are..." you wander. "I also thought about you, all of you, inside of me"

"Watch that filthy mout of yours, sugar" he chastises but there's no anger behind his reprimand, "one summer bouncing on my cock an' y'r already a needy slut"

You whine at his words, rubbing yourself against his tight.

"D-don't" he undoes his belt and jeans, leaving only his underwear. Your desperate fingers pull them down, revealing his already pulsating cock, "don't tease this ole' man and just do the real thing"

He lets you use him, his hips rocking forwards despite his creaking bones, your swollen clit dragging against his pelvis. He sees your face, how you bite your lip as you test your needs, fucking yourself while you ride him. He lets you because: one, he's old and tired, and two, he wants to see you until he's memorized every small detail of your face. He lets you edge yourself close, crying as you feel it coming, but then he plants his feet onto the wooden floor, his boots making a hollow sound that echoes through the walls, the only other sound aside your cries, and thrusts his length up into you.

You yelp at the sudden sensation of his cock inside of you again.

"Think I'd let ya' have it all?" he mocks, "need to fuck y'r pretty pussy too; gotta have it for myself. Would ya' let me?"

You can't deny him anything.

"Yes, Joel" his hands immediatly grab your hips with a pressure so strong, you fear there'll soon be a bruise there. His cock buries fully within you. The air fills with a strong scent, just your moans and his grunts bouncing off the walls, soon warming up from the cold, the crease of his eyebrow pronounced as he realeases, coating your folds with his cum.

"God, sugar" he sounds a bit embarrased, "look at you, makin' me cum so fast"

But he's too enamoured by the sight of you on top of him, still riding him despite his quick orgasm, so he cups your face gently, the beads of sweat on your forehead falling into his hand. He feels more alive than ever, like his life has just started. Oh, he can picture it: coming home to the smell of your food, kissing the absence of the day off your mouth, to then bend you over the counter. He wants so much more, but he knows it can't be, yet, he's far too gone to even think about turning around.

You lift your hips until his cock slips out of you, using your fingers to bring it back. His cum clings to your folds as you sink back down, hips barely lifting you back up before you keep him buried inside of you. He loves watching you slide down his length, slipping in and out of your puffy cunt as his cock softens. It pushes his cum back into your cunt, sticky over your clit as it drips to your thighs.

You did bring a pill this time, so you don't care of the mess his thick flood of cum that dribbles out of you has made on your pussy and his clothes.

"Fuck" you let out, sex-filled mind speaking up. "Don't ever leave me again"

"I won't" he answers hastily, then regrets it. But you don't know that.

Instead, numbness takes over your body, the events of last hours finally draining your body. Sleep settles in, and you nest your head on Joel's sweaty shoulder.

"Lemme take you to bed" you hear his half-drowned voice, carrying your body to the main bedroom.

Joel Miller was always a mystery to you: a man who seemed impossible to break, his world hiding behind a permanent scowl. It felt like his heart was locked, seemingly unbreakable, but where he was rough, his edges had softened for you.

He places you over the bed softly, dipping next to you. Joel's strong arms embrace you, pulling your tired figure closer. His face hides in your neck and his soft belly pushes against the curve of your back, all while he presses a soft kiss to it.

"I think I love you" he murmurs to no one in particular.

But you hear.

It was winter again, when he broke your heart.

Before the holidays, you'd drop by every other weekend. Cancelling plans, waiting for his call. For his grave voice to say Come over, and you'd speed up the brakes with an urgency only he had taught you.

You'd find yourself in the cabin, loosing track of time that rushed like a bottle of wine. Kissing until your mouth was swollen and the only thing that satisfied your hunger was his lips, fucking until sunrise and his bones ached. He'd then offer a tired smile, and you'd sing a soft tune in front of the fireplace while cuddling.

They say home is where the heart is. And it felt like one.

It was during one of those escapades that you showed up with your newest adquisition: a small cursive J just above your thigh, hiding under the plaid of your skirt.

It was your first fight. He shouted at you like he had never before, scolding you like a father would to a naive kid, the hatred you hadn't seen since he touched you that night a year ago, resurfacing.

"We're loosing ourselves" his voice cracked, sounding defeated. But then he'd suck the skin around it until it turned red.

The back and forth became the only thing keeping you alive, the need for his touch as addictive and destructive as a drug.

Which is why Christmas hadn't felt this jolly since being a kid.

You're back, and as you hug your dad and mom, you scour the place for his face: the one you've grown to yearn and love.

Your dad exchanges a glance with your mother and then looks at you weirdly before answering.

"He isn't coming; I thought you knew"

You don't care about the future explanations or the calls of your name, storming off and crossing the street to his place.

"Joel!" you shout, knocking desperately, "open the door!"

When you don't get an answer, you search for the spare key hiding under a pot in the porch. As you make your way inside, you spot Joel sitting in front of the fireplace, his eyes lost in the fire.

"Joel" you softly call his name. At that, he snaps, standing up. His eyes glow with the flames, circling in doubt.

"Sugar?" like he didn't expect you to actually search him on his absence, "what'd doing here?"

"I could ask you the same" you laugh, sardonically. "Don't know how I'll explain running off like that, so thanks, by the way"

"M' sorry"

The words fall heavy in the air, suddenly thick. Something tells you he isn't apologizing exactly for that.

There's something like guilt and fear simmering in his eyes. You think about all those times in the cabin, spring and autumn, and you're reminded of those three words he's said and you haven't. The realization hits you, and you're quick to reach him, grabbing his hand.

"Joel?" you call again. "I- I need to tell you something"

"So do I" but he sounds reluctant, "you go first"

"I don't know what's happening" your lip quivers, eyes glossy. God, he feels terrible, "but I want you to know that I love you"

He gasps, like you've slapped him across the face.

"No" he starts, pushing you away. He lets go of your hand, and the sudden cold hits you.

"I thought I still had time..." his shoulders slump in defeat, "guess I'm wrong"

"What do you mean?" anger and sadness flood your words.

"You can't love me" the words cut through you, and you're sick.

Sick of your rusting wheels that only move when he tells you to. Because that force, the dominance, Joel Miller seems to carry over the rest of the people, doesn't cut as deep as it cuts through you.

It's almost done with a benevolent authority, like he knows of said power and doesn't want to abuse it.

So now he's ordering you to stop loving him, like this year has meant nothing. Nothing.

"Love, funny word" your words carry rage, "do you even know what that means?" you try to hold back the tears in vain, "you don't, yet you say them so freely, like they mean nothing to you" he makes a surprised face, and you savour the pain reflected on his face, alike of yours. "Yes, I heard you, Joel. Y-you made me the happiest girl on the planet, but now I realize you're so full of shit"

You turn around, trying not to see his face, because you know that the more you look at him, the more seconds you add and the harder it would be to erase the memories you'll have to burn.

"Did you ever love me, Joel?" it pains you to whisper out loud.

"I love you, sugar" his voice is horse, like something had cut through it. "That's why I'm doing this"

"Are you, Joel?" you sigh, "if you loved me, wouldn't you want me to stay?"

"This won't end well" it's his answer, trying to reason, "I don't want to hold you back"

Coward. Asshole. Idiot.

Your tone is icy like the storm outside, "but it's already ended"

He's about to speak but you cut him off.

You can only smile. "I've given you everything and you took it. I really thought you were giving me your everything, but I realize now, that I know what you are. You don't need to hide it" he looks at you like it is you who's hurted him the most, "you're hard to love, Joel. But I tried"

He'll regret it. You know and you want to: you want him to feel the empty days blur with one another, that he remembers late at night what you had and he ended, so when he feels alone, the ghost of your free love haunts him with the happy days and sweet taste of your lips. Just then, he'll understand what your year of loving really meant.

You leave his house empty, a knife twisted in your heart. He's the only one who's got the key, and you know it will be long until anyone else can break it open.

But it's okay: if being with Joel was heaven, you'll happily burn in the flames of what's left.

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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sunnysidevans · 5 months ago

Text

Heart Of Texas - J.Seresin

Synopsis: While in Texas for your best friends bachelorette trip, the last thing you expect to find is the green eyed cowboy in the bar. Or to find him again months later.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader.

Warnings: 18+, swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of the deed, soft jake(warning in himself really) , uh drunk marriage? not sure what to label that.

Authors Note: hi! i'm alive! I have had this draft for... MONTHS! I have not had much motiviation but upon it being hot glen summer. I'm here with my favorite green eyed boo.

The sun was shining bright through the soft gray curtains, causing you to squint. The silk sheets were soft against your skin. Rolling over in the King sized bed, you groan.

A night of bar hopping in the heart of Austin was probably not the smartest idea but the bride to be got what she wanted for her bachelorette party, her words playing on loop,

“I want to go to Austin and have a good time before I’m a married woman” .

The groan beside you pulls you from your thoughts, looking over beside you, gasping. You pull the sheet to cover your body, pulling yourself away from him and against the wall. “Oh my god” you whisper with a shake of your head.

Moving further against the wall and away from the man as he slowly woke up. Looking him up and down you take him in, he was tall, his feet hung off the bed slightly. His tanned skin and the small freckles adorned his chest, soft blonde hairs residing there. Once he opens his eyes, you note the soft green of his irises.

“What the hell?” he groans, hand falling to his forehead.

Then he looks over at you. You look like a deer in the headlights looking at him. Under his gaze, you can’t help but to pull the sheet tighter against your chest, less of his body being covered.

“Who are you?!” you whisper-yell. “Uh- My name's Jake” he chuckles, sitting up to push his body against the headboard. “Okay but why are you in my hotel room?” you ask.

He looks around the room, noticing the clothes scattered on the floor. "I think um” he rubs the back of his neck.

“I think we may have slept together Sugar” his drawl was soft, his voice deep and still riddled with sleep.

“I think I can gather that '' you mumble, rubbing your eyes. The coldness of metal against your face pulls your hand away. “Oh-” looking down at your hand, then back at the man in front of you, who you now know is Jake. “what is it?” he asks from the end of the bed, looking back at you over his shoulder.

Holding your left hand up to him, you wiggle the small dainty band on your ring finger.

“Oh shit” his face pales, looking down at his own left hand, a simple band adored his own ring finger. “We’re fucking married” you mumble, pushing the sheet off your body to stand.

Grabbing your panties, you begin to pace the hotel room. “Dude, how the hell did we get married?!” you ask, looking at Jake. He chuckles with a shake of his head, hands on his knees. “FIrst of all, please put your tits away” rolling your eyes, you grab the first shirt in sight, buttoning it to look at him. “Please explain! What do you remember?” with your hands on your hips, he sighs. “Not more than you do,” he admits. “Just fuckin dandy” you mumble, pushing a hand through your hair.

“I must say, I do remember alot of shots, '' he admits, it causes you to chuckle. “I can’t believe this is happening right now” pacing infront of Jake, he sighs. “It’s okay, those marriages are never even legit, not legally” he admits, pulling his boxers on, standing infront of you. Stopping your pacing, he grabs your shoulders. “It’s alright Sugar” he smirks.

Rolling your eyes you push his hand off you. “It’s alright to you..” trailing off, you look at the floor infront of you, “Jake” he hums in response. You pick up the piece of paper infront of you.

“Certficate of Marriage'' you hold it out to him.

“Legally, I am now your wife” he rips the paper out of your hands, looking it over. “Oh shit” he looks back up at you then down to the paper. He goes to speak, knocking on the other side of the door stopping him.

Widening your eyes, looking around the room, you sigh. “Okay big guy” he goes to protest as you shove him into the bathroom quickly shutting the door before he can protest.

As the bathroom door shuts, your hotel room door opens. “Why did I think you should have a key?” you sigh. Your best friends are all making their way into the hotel room.

“Safety, I have all the room keys” Laura, bride to be smirks. She sits down on the bed, looking around the room.

“Are you okay?” she asks, looking at you with a smile. “I’m fine” you are lying through your teeth. “Are you okay?” you look at your best friend Wanda as she has a small smile.

“She texted Bradley at least 200 times last night, they’ve talked twice this morning” Laura says, looking between you and her friend with a deadpan look in her eyes.

“She’s in love” you admit with a grin. “I’m the one getting married!” Laura defends with a laugh. Wanda turns her gaze to you, “How are you standing?” she asks, you raise a brow. “What do you mean?” you ask, “You had a wild night” Allison says from beside you.

“What do you mean?” she chuckles, “you were all over that guy, he was so into you” Jake smirks from behind the door, listening to the conversation between you girls.

"oh really?” you ask as she nods. “I don’t remember his name but you guys hit it off..” she smirks looking around the hotel room. “You slept with him!” Wanda stands, pointing at you. “Okay” holding your hands up in surrender, you look between your group of friends.

“I remember nothing, um” you blush, knowing he had to be listening. “The sex was phenomenal okay?” The room cheers, Jake's smirk grows behind the bathroom door.

“You guys really were all over each other '' Laura nods, grinning. “Here, look'' she's pulling her phone out, showing you the photos. The night coming back to you, one photo at a time.

The music pounded through the speakers of the club. “I can’t believe that in two weeks I’ll be married!” Laura yells beside you, dancing with her own drink in hand. You smirk, sipping from your glass.

“In two weeks time we’ll be looking at Mrs.Machado!” you yell, the rest of the group cheering. “Oh! I love this song! C’mon!” You are pushed out onto the dance floor with your best friends. “Get Low” by lil John played through the speakers, singing loudly as you swayed your hips.

“Ohhhh (Y/N)! He is totally eye-fucking you!” looking over at Wanda, who sends a nod to the tall blonde at the bar. The same blonde who bought the drink you were currently nursing. He winks. Being the only single friend in the group made this a common occurrence.

You smirk, pointing to him as he smirks. Pointing to himself, you nod, motioning him over. Pushing your drink into the hands of poor Allison who was just trying to nurse her own hands.

You take his hand, pulling him away from the group of girls. “You know it’s rude to stare” you smirk, he shrugs, hands on your hips as he pulls you into his chest. Back to his chest, you didn't hesitate to grind your hips against his.

You feel his chest rumble, his chuckle against your ear. “Not that I see you complaining Sugar'' resting your hands on top of his, you continuing to grind against him.

“Neither is he!” you smirk, he couldn’t even be embarrassed as he knew you referring to his hard length that continued to poke your ass.

Laura stopped on the last photo of the two of you, it looked like it was straight from a prono. “Oh” you nod, looking at her with a blush.

“I’m gonna assume that” Allison points at your shirt with a smirk, “is not yours”. The blush now made its way up your cheeks to your ears. “No,” shaking your head, you bite your lip.

“Allison owes me $20” Laura smirks, sitting down on the bed beside your best friends. You gasp, “You placed bets?!” the girls laugh. “I knew you’d go home with him, he couldn’t keep his hands off you” the night was coming back to Jake as he continued to sober up.

“Anyways” Wanda grins, “Get cleaned up and we’ll see you downstairs for brunch in an hour” you nod, smiling. “Okay, I’ll see you guys then” they all send you a wink on their way out of the door, you sigh as the door closes behind them.

“You can come out now” Jake makes his way from the bathroom. “They’re fun,” he smirks. You send him a glare, running a hand through your hair. “Sorry” he smiles. “What are we gonna do?” looking up at him, he can’t help but look you over.

You were gorgeous. The whole reason the night ended the way it did. “Well I have to head back to California in about 4 hours,” he admits, hand on his hips.

“California?” you ask as he nods, looking at you. “We’re from California” he chuckles, a weird coincidence. “Here” he picks his phone up from the floor, holding it out to you.

“Sounds like you will be busy so” he smirks, looking at the deadpand look on your face. “Give me your number and when we both have the time, we can see a lawyer” nodding slowly, you take the phone from his hands. Putting your number in, holding it back out to him.

“I did have a good time, from what I remember” he admits, sending you a quick text so you could save his own phone number. “It was also your idea to get married” gasping, you snap your head up to look at him.

“It was not!” you defend as he shakes his head, pulling his pants on. “It was Sugar” he smirks, hand on his hips.

He stood in just his pants, shirtless in your hotel room. He had a small tattoo on his pec, you just now noticed. “It’s my niece's handwriting,” he admits. You can’t help the smile that makes its way on your lips.

It was the only tattoo Jake Seresin put on his tanned skin.

You are getting yourself dressed, feeling him stare at you. “Can I help you?” he chuckles, “can I have my shirt?” he asks. You blush, unbuttoning the shirt to hold back out to him. “Thanks” you nod, turning back to him as you finish pulling the clothes from the night before back on.

“I’ll give you a call in like, a week or so?” he asks as you nod. “Uh, give me like a month, my best friend get’s married here in a few weeks” he nods, smiling. “No problem, I have a wedding myself” you smile, your own mind drifting to see him in a black tux.

“Okay” he makes his way to the door, “Jake” he stops, looking over his shoulder to you.

“Have a safe flight” he smiles, sending you another wink. “You too”

A week later, you received a text from Jake. You never expected to hear from him until he was ready for a lawyer.

UNKOWN: Hey, You make it back okay?

You had to admit, you originally didn’t want to save his phone number, but you decided then, it was best to save it. You had nicknames for everyone, it was a love language for you, Jake getting his own.

You smirk as you save the nickname “Hungman”, for obvious reasons.

YOU: I made it okay, how about you?

He smiled, he didn’t truly expect a response. He also saved a nickname for you in his phone, “Sugar” because you were just so sweet.

“Does it fit?!” Laura is knocking on the door, pushing it open to see you in the Lavendar dress she chose for you. “Oh, (Y/N) you look stunning!” smiling at her in the mirror, turning to face her. “Are you sure?” she nods, helping you out of the room. “I love it” you smile, spinning on the small platform.

The week was leading to wedding preparations for the soon to be Mrs.Machado.

Including dress fittings to be sure the dresses from two months ago still were perfect. “Why are you so smiley?” Allison asks, smirking. You shrug, looking at yourself in the mirror. “I bet she was texting Mr.Texas” Wanda smirks.

The group had given Jake his own nickname. “Jake just texted to make sure we all made it back okay” she coos, “how sweet,he was concerned about you” you smile. Maybe he was, you werent sure.

You didn’t want to look into it too much. The way you didn’t want to just yet take the delicate gold band off your left ring finger. They had yet to notice it, you found no harm in keeping it on for the next week.

“The man, the myth , the legend!” Coyote shouts, standing from the chair at The Hard Deck. Jake smirks, holding his hands out in pride. “I’ve arrived” he chuckles, hugging his best friend. “Did you have a good trip home?” Fanboy asks beside him as he sits down. He thinks back, the gold band sitting against his chest. He didn’t want to destory it with work, opting to put it with his dog tags.

“Of course I did,” he smirks. “Back just in time for the wedding” Javy sits across from him, handing him the beer. “Did you get laid?” Payback lets curiosity get the best of him. “Of course he did” his best friend answers for him, Jake smirks. “Bradshaw!” Jake looks up at the mention of Bradley, smiling at him and then his girlfriend, Wanda. “Sorry guys, I had to go pick her up” he smiles at the redhead beside him. She waves, sitting down beside Javy.

“Hey guys” her smile is warm. Jake knew that her and Bradley were made for the other. “I’ll go get drinks baby, I’ll be back” he kisses her head, walking to the bar. “How was the trip?” Coyote asks, she smirks. “So good! I will be going back to Texas again” she smiles, “I missed Brad though so” Payback gags from his seat.

“Stop” Fanboy slaps him. The group all have significant others except Hangman. Javy had his fiance Laura, Bradley had Wanda and Mickey had Allison. Payback had a girlfriend but it was far from being serious.

Phoenix and Bob both had already been married before even coming back to Top Gun. The group had yet to meet their spouses. “Here baby” Rooster sits back down, looking at the group.

“Cap” he nods to Jake, a smirk on his face as he sips his beer. Captain Jake “Hangman” Seresin. He smirks behind his own beer. “Rooster” Wanda smiles at Hangman and the rest of the aviators.

She’s leaning over beside Javy, showing him pictures of his soon to be wife and her friends. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out, he can’t help but smile.

Sugar: I found this on my phone, thought you may like it.

Attached was a photo of the two of you, a selfie of cake frosting smeared on both of your faces. He smiles, hearting the photo and saving it to his camera roll.

He didn’t want to admit his “wife” was becoming just that to him.

His wife.

“What’s got you smiling?” Mickey asks, he shrugs. “Is it the girl you slept with?!” Jake sighs, looking at his group of friends. “You slept with somebody?” Rooster asks, as he nods. “I can’t say I’m surprised” he mumbles, Jake sending him a look.

“I did,” he nods, looking at his friends. “And you kept in contact with her?” Javy smirks, looking at his best friend. Well of course I did, we’re married is what he wanted to say, instead he smiles.

“I did,” the group cheers.

“Maybe the hangman is finally getting himself a lady!” he can’t help the blush that makes its way to his ears. The bar began filing in with the rest of the group's spouses, Laura first. “Gentleman” she smiles, sitting down beside Javy. Laura was also a pilot, just now an instructor at Top Gun. Then filed in Allison who sat beside Mickey.

Payback leaving to go pick up his new girlfriend Lily. “I think this is my que to go” Jake sighs, pulling cash from his pocket as he tosses it onto the table. “Oh Hangman” Laura shakes her head, frowning.

“You don’t have to go,” he shakes his head, standing from his seat. “I have some much needed sleep to catch up on” he lies through his teeth. He hated being the odd man out of the group.

He waved goodbye, making his way out of the hard deck, his mind drifting back to you. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he sighs at the text from Javy.

Javy: Don’t let it beat you up man, you will find that someone soon, maybe at the wedding!

The continuous buzzing of your phone causes you to groan.

You knew the minute that group chat was created it was gonna be nothing more than a headache.

Ally: I think (Y/N) should go on a date with Hangman.

Wanz: I agree! The poor guy left because he was the only single one.

Lars: He’s a really down to earth man (Y/N)! Once you get past the cocky exterior.

Y/N: Can you guys not play matchmakers right now? I did really hit it off with Jake, remember?

Ally: He's in Texas ! You never know, your soulmate is right there, in Hangster.

Wanz: Bradley said he really is nice and you guys would be so cute together.

You give up then, muting the notifications and tossing the phone back on the counter beside you. They meant well, knowing you just wanted to get back out there after your break up.

You groan at the buzzing of your phone again, picking it up ready to block whoever's number for the night.

Stopping short at the message, the ellipses follow.

Hungman: Goodnight, Is it weird to text you goodnight?

Another message following

Hungman: Thought that's what married couples do so why not?

You smile. Jake felt his chest tighten, he was thanking whoever above that you had read receipts on.

Sugar: Goodnight Jake, We did drunkenly get married remember? My idea apparently.

A smile on his lips, he replies quickly.

Hungman: I mean, I didn’t have to agree to it. You clearly wanted to marry me though. I mean look at me.

The ellipses follow a few times, going in and out before one final message.

Sugar: I remember now you felt that way about me Mr. ;). Goodnight.

The week was over before you could blink. Wedding prep was extremely stressful, in ways that made you happy to just be a bridesmaid.

“(Y/N)!” you fix the skirt on your body as you walk to the table, smiling at the group. “Bradley Bradshaw '' you smirk, kissing his cheek and making it around the table. Hugging the group as you sit down beside Allison and Mickey.

You loved the group of Aviators. Bradley was originally your friend first, then the group followed. “What is that?” Mickey asks, pointing to your hand. You look to where he was pointing, your heart dropped.

In the weeks you had been home from Texas, you did the very most to hide the wedding band. “(Y/N)” Javy’s voice is stern, looking at you with curious eyes. “What?” you say, pulling your hand off the table quickly. He’s faster, reaching over the table to stop you.

“Oh my god!” Wanda sits up in her seat. “You married Mr.Texas didnt you?!” she points, looking between the group. Slouching back in the seat, you pull your hand away from Javy.

“Mr.Texas?” Mickey asks, chuckling. “She met a guy in Texas, they left. I just assumed they slept together but-” Allison smirks, looking at you. “That's where you snuck off to! You guys got married!” She's laughing. “This is not about me” you speak up, looking at Laura. She smiles, winking at you.

“This is about in less than a week, these two” you point to Laura and Javy “will be married!”.

The conversation now shifted to the wedding. You felt your blood pressure finally even out. You knew you should’ve taken the ring off.

In the last two weeks you shared lots of photos and texts with your husband, well Jake. He shared his own photos, asking you about your day. It was all things you were not used to.

Dating in a place so full of Naval Pilots was hard, it was not your type as it was your friends.

Having enough Navy friends, you were shunned off piolts. The group continued mumbling between themselves as you sipped your wine. Your phone then rang, furrowing your brows as you pulled it out.

Why was he calling you? Standing, Bradley notices first. He takes the hand closest to him as you pass. “Where you goin?” he asks, a gentle smile on his face.

“Uh, Jake is calling me, I just want to make sure he’s okay” his brain calculated what you said, before he put together Mr.Texas was Jake. “Okay” he smiles, giving your hand a squeeze.

“I’ll be back” you smile, walking outside quickly. “Hello?” he sighs, “thank god”. You frown, “Jake are you alright?” he smiles.

“Yeah, I just wanted to hear your voice” he admits, you can’t help the smile that grows on your lips.

“You know I am having dinner with my friends tonight” he chuckles. “I know I got the photos you sent, I just- I don’t know I wanted to say hi” he smiles.

He didn’t want to admit that he was starting to feel things for you. “Jake” you chuckle, looking in the window at your friends, none the wiser.

“I just wanted to talk to my wife” your heart starts beating harder in your chest. “You wanted to talk to your wife huh?” he smirks, it sounded even better when it came from your lips. “Yeah, I just want to say” he clears his throat.

“Have a fun evening, please text me once you make it home” you chuckle. “That's very Husband-y of you” he smirks. “I am a husband, your husband” you blush.

“Okay Mr.Seresin, I will text you when I get home” he smirks, “I also sent you some money if you need, Mrs.Seresin” it felt odd, but in a good way as legally, you were Mrs.Seresin.

“Jake,” he scoffs. “Nope, as a husband I am taking care of my wife, now go have fun” he blows a kiss over the speaker, hanging up before you can protest. You sigh with a smile. Typing out a quick text.

Sugar: Thank you, Husband. I appreciate you <3.

He can’t help the grin on his lips, looking over the text. He wouldn’t hate the idea of actually being a husband. The lawyer was the last thing on his mind. Making your way back inside, smiling at the text.

Hungman: No problem, Wife. Have a fun evening, talk later <3.

Wedding day had finally arrived, looking around the room, you sigh. “Where the hell is Laura?” you ask, standing in the suite with Allison and Wanda.

“I have no idea” you sigh, shaking your head. You knew she was not getting cold feet. “I’ll be right back” shutting the door behind you, you walk down the hallway with the bottom of your dress in hand.

Turning the corner you stop. Javy and Laura, both standing on the patio together. You clear your throat, both looking like deer in the headlights.

“This is not tradition” you say, arms crossed and brow raised. “I’m sorry” Laura smiles, hand locking with her now soon to be husband.

“Get back in the room, you have to get ready” she nods, kissing Javy one last time before she’s pushing past you.

Following her down the hallway as she got steps ahead of you. “Can’t believe you pulled me away from my husband” she gruffs, jokingly of course as you smile behind her. “I’m sorry miss, “I want a traditional wedding’” you throw the air quotes out to her.

She shakes her head, pushing into the room accompanied by the rest of your friend group and parents.

“I’ll be right back” you send her a reassuring smile, walking away from the room. It was hitting you a lot harder today that you were again only a bridesmaid and never a bride.

You tried hard not to mess up the makeup the lovely artist did trying to avoid the tears rolling down your cheeks. In the process, you don't notice the person in front of you, running into a hard chest. Soft hands catching you from falling, “woah there”.

Your whole body tenses, you knew that voice.

You look up to meet the same green eyes you had been thinking about for weeks. “Jake?” his hands remain on your shoulders. “(Y/N)?” his voice going up an octave in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as he looks you over, the lavender dress looks beautiful on you, “why are you crying?”.

You sniffle, shaking your head, “no answer my question first” he chuckles at your stubbornness. "My best friend is getting married today to his fiance, Laura” you gasp.

“Oh my god” you move from his arms, chuckling. “You are Hangman!” you point as his smirk grows wider.

“Javy’s best friend from top gun, oh my god” he nods sucking his teeth as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit. “You are Laura’s best friend” you nod, looking at him.

“What the fuck” you whisper, more to yourself than him. “I did not put this together” he nods, walking closer to you.

“Wanda and Allison tried setting me up with you” the words flow faster than you can process you are saying them as he laughs, a full belly laugh.

“Did you tell them that I am already your husband?” he asks as he then notices the ring on your left hand as it's brushing your cheeks. “No, I didn’t because I had no idea you were the same person” you chuckle, shaking your head again.

“I’m happy to see you,” he admits, looking at you. Looking back at him, you finally take him in, the black suit against the lavender shirt he wore under, bowtie tied neatly.

He looked as good as he did the last time you saw him in person. He smiles under your gaze, “I’m happy to see you too” . It's soft but in the large corridor it wasn’t hard to miss.

“Hey (Y/N)-” Bradley stops short at the end of the hallway, looking between you and Hangman. “Hangman, what did you do?” he starts making his way down the hall to get closer to you. Moving to stand in front of Jake, you stop Bradley.

“Bradley” he stops, looking between the two of you.

“Hangman is Jake” Bradley nods, looking between the two of you, “yes his name is Jake, what does that have to do with what is going on?” you shake your head, chuckling.

“Mr.Texas?” you ask, Bradley stops for a few seconds before he is chuckling. Jake slips a hand to rest on your hip, looking between you and his now friend. “She was the girl you slept with in Texas?!” He points to you, looking at Hangman.

Jake nods, looking at him with a sheepish smile, “Yes”.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe out of all the people in Austin Texas you married Hangman!” he laughs with a shake of his head. “Can I just say something?” you ask, between both aviators.

“One, I had no idea he was in the Navy until about five minutes ago. Second, he was just Jake in Texas, a southern gentleman” you look at Jake over your shoulder, he smiles down at you.

“Did he get me in his bed and marry him? I mean yes but I am also a grown woman, I had no idea he was the Hangman that you all talk about” Bradley nods slowly.

“I’m still in shock,” you admit, looking between them. “You have to tell the girls,” Bradley smirks, looking at you. “I vouched for you and everything Hangman!” he laughs at his friend, who furrows his brows.

“The text said, and I quote “Bradley says he really is nice and you guys would be so cute together” so I mean he did” you say, nodding between the two of them. “Had I known you already went out and put a ring on it” Bradley mumbles with a grin.

“How did I not recognize the girls' voices when they were in the hotel room?” he asks as you shrug. “We were hungover and barely remembered how we ended up there,” he nodded with a laugh.

“Okay point taken” you smile, looking between your two friends. “Well anyways, Hangman we are being summoned by the groom” Bradley smiles, “I’ll see you two later” he smirks, laughing as he makes his way back down the hall.

You turn to face Jake with a smile. “Mr.Texas?” he asks, hands resting on your waist. You laugh, nodding, “The girls all nicknamed you Mr.Texas, I reminded them time and time again you were Jake”.

He smiles, looking at you. “Go” you whisper, resting your hand on his arm. “I will see you later okay?” he nods, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“I’ll see you later, Mrs.Seresin” he winks, walking back down the hallway the same way Bradley did.

He doesn’t miss the blush on your cheek. With a deep breath, you make your way back to the bride's suite.

“There you are!” Laura is grinning, holding a hand out to you. “Sorry, I’m here” you make your way to her, taking her hand.

“I want to tell you something” she’s whispering, looking at you.

“What is it?” you ask, squeezing her hand. “I never thought I would be here, marrying such an amazing man” she’s holding back tears as she continues, “I never thought I’d have such amazing friends like I do you and the group, I want you to know first” she’s grinning.

You nod, reaching out to wipe a tear from her face, “I’m having a baby”.

You grin, tears making their way to your eyes. “And I want you to be their god mother, Javy has already decided to ask Hangman to be godfather” you grin, both at the mention of Hangman and of the baby. “I’m honored” you smile, pulling her into a tight hug.

The wedding kicked off smoothly. You stood beside your best friend, watching as she married the love of her life. Doing your best to avoid crying, failing as they shared vows. You look up from the bouquet in your hand, Jake winks at you from his spot beside Javy. You blush, looking back at the couple.

“I now pronounce you, Mr and Mrs Machado!” the priest cheers as everyone follows suit. Jake waited so he could walk the aisle with you.

Following his best friend as he held an arm out to you. You move beside him and you link your arm through his, following the train of Laura’s dress.

Bradley smirks from his spot at the altar watching the scene in front of him as he was the only one to know.

He’s then looking at his own girlfriend as if she held the world. Following them outside, standing beside the rest of your best friends as you are throwing flower petals at the couple with cheers.

“See you all at the reception!” Javy grins, helping his now wife into the car, following after her.

“Wanna ride with us?” Mickey asks from beside you, smiling. Jake’s hands make their way back to your waist, shaking his head. “I got her” you smile at the look on Mickey's face, looking between the two of you.

“I’ll ride with Jake” you take his hand off your waist, lacing your fingers together. “Okay” He trails off, following Allison as she paid none the wiser of what was happening behind her.

“I now welcome you, Mr. and Mrs. Javy Machado!” you grin, cheering beside your friends as Laura and Javy make their way into the reception.

Laura looked gorgeous in the dress she chose. Jake beside you as he grins at his best friend. He was happy for them, even more happy having you beside him. You look up at the feeling of a hand on your arm, smiling at Wanda. “We need to talk” you frown, looking at her.

“Are you okay?” you ask, now turning to your best friend. She nods, smiling. “Hi Hangman” he nods, sending her a smile.

“Wanda” he nods and makes his way from the two of you to join his group of friends. You watch as he congratulates his friends, not missing the smile he shared with Laura.

“It’s Hangman?!” she’s whisper-yelling. “Huh?” you look back at Wanda, Allison on her way to join you. “Mr. Texas was Jake Seresin?!” she whispers a grin on her face. You blush, looking at your friends.

“What?!” Allison asks from beside Wanda, looking at you. “Yes, Jake is Mr.Texas aka Hangman” you look at them with a blush. “I can not believe this” Allison is laughing, watching you. “I can’t believe we tried setting you up and he already put a ring on it!” you laugh.

“Don’t be mad, Bradley told me” Wanda says, hand on your arm. Shaking your head, you smile. “I planned on telling you, I just haven’t told Laura because well it’s her day” you say, cutting short at the mention of your friend.

“What haven’t you told me?” she asks, glass in her hand.

“(Y/N) married Hangman!” you gasp, looking at Wanda.

“What?!” Laura is looking between you and back over at Jake, who stood with her husband. “Mr.Texas?!” she asks as you nod. “It all makes sense now, I mean sure Jake is a common name but in Austin Texas” she grins. “How did we not recognize him?” Laura asks the group, they shrug, “We were drunk and it was dark” Wanda says, they all laugh.

Making it through the crowd, you approach the group of Aviators. “Gentleman” you smile, looking between them, looking at Javy. “Javy, Congratulations” you smile as he pulls you into a tight hug.

You had grown close to Javy as he was like your big brother. “Thank you (Y/N/N)” you smile, moving back to stand beside Jake who doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you.

“Am I missing something?” Javy asks, looking between the two of you. “They’re married!” Bradley yells from behind him with a smirk.

“What?!” he looks at his best friend, who grins. “I am indeed Mr.Texas” Jake laughs at the nickname, looking at his friend. “And I am the mystery texas girl” you are also laughing.

"Oh my god!" Javy is laughing, hand on his stomach as he looks between the two of you. "And all this time Laura has been trying to set the two of you up!" he points out as his wife joins his side with a grin. "I mean I did if you think about it" the two Machado's grin.

“Are you gonna stay married?” the question was loaded, in the weeks since you returned to San Diego neither you or jake thought about divorce.

“I don’t know” you say, looking up at the man beside you. “We'll see” you wink, moving from his grip and making your way back over to your friends. “I can not believe you two are married and I-” Javy furrows his brows.

“I never saw your ring! None of us did” Jake grins, holding his left hand up, “I wore it on my tags, didn’t want to ruin it, but I whipped it out for today” he shrugs as he sips the beer in his hand.

The reception continued on with drinks, laughs and speeches. The group all found out slowly you were indeed married to the captain of the squad.

Standing on the balcony of the venue, you close your eyes and take in the breeze.

“You know the party is not out here” you smile, the southern drawl making itself known now that he was a few drinks in. “I know” standing from the railing, you turn to face him.

He smiles, his suit jacket now discarded, now just the lavender button up. “I needed a few minutes,” you admit, looking at him.

He nods, moving to stand beside you. “Can I ask you something?” he asks, looking over at you.

Nodding, he continues. “Do you want to get divorced?” biting your lip, you shrug. “I don’t know,” you admit.

“I don’t” he admits sipping from the beer in his hands.

“What?” you look over at him, looking over his face. “I think I'd like to see where we can go,” he admits. You blush, looking away from him, “Oh” your voice is soft.

“I don’t know, something feels right, it has for the last few weeks” he’s spilling now, he realizes.

“In the nights that we talked, the texting, the photos” he shrugs, looking down at you. “I can’t help but think maybe we could make this marriage work,” he smiles. You bite your lip, nodding slowly.

You had the same feelings, but in the group of your friends you knew the reputation Hangman held.

“Are you ready to be tied down to someone, let alone me?” you ask, he chuckles.

“I haven’t looked another woman's way since you” he admits, looking at you.

“Really?” you ask as he nods. “I realize now what you’ve heard about me, how I sleep around and all but” he shrugs, moving closer to you.

“I am a simple man. I want a wife and a life with someone I love” you look up at him as he continues. “Now, did our marriage start traditionally? Of course not. I want to build it” he smiles, hand reaching out to cup your cheeks. “I want to take you on dates and woo you, be the husband you deserve” leaning into his hand, you kiss his palm.

“I won't lie I didn’t expect you to lay it on so thick” you grin. He chuckles, looking at you.

“What do you say Sugar?” he asks, his voice now deeper and accent thicker.

You nod, leaning up to connect your lips to his. Taking him by surprise as he doesn't kiss back at first but within seconds, kissing you again.

He’s pulling you against his body, hand on the back of your head to pull you and your lips closer. As you kissed him, you realized two things.

Laura was so smart for picking Austin for her bachelorette party. And when you left Texas, you left half your heart there.

The smooth talking green eyed pilot taking a piece of your heart and holding it with him. Traveling back to California with him, and holding it close as he himself was close.

“Can I take you out officially?” he asks softly, "soberly, of course" he nudges your nose. “I think that can be arranged,” he smirks, kissing you again.

God did you love Texas.

Authors Note part II: I must admit I don't think this is my best work but I think the story is good and kind of hallmark-y? But lawd! did anyone see this fic going where it did? let me know your thoughts! of course, likes, reblogs and comments are always welcomed!

and of course, if you liked this fic you can find more of my work in the library here

⇾ The Library

#glen powell #jake seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin imagine #hangman fluff #hangman x reader #hangman fic

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ethereangel222 · 3 months ago

Text

our safe haven

nicholas alexander chavez & fem!reader

premise After years of marriage and raising their daughter, Nicholas and his wife, Y/N, find their love and passion deepening as they consider growing their family.

cw fluff and eventual smut, oral (f receiving), penetration p in v, unprotected sex wc 4k a/n soft vanilla!nicholas fic is needed. this is my fav fic in my drafts so far! i hope you guys enjoy this <3

Reblogs are highly appreciated.

Nicholas quietly entered the bedroom, the soft creak of the door muffled by the plush carpet underfoot. The subtle scent of Amelia's lavender bath soap lingered on him, a reminder of the bedtime ritual he had just finished. He padded over to his side of the bed, his broad shoulders still relaxed from reading Amelia her favorite story, and pulled back the covers.

You were already nestled beneath the duvet, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light on your face. The room was cozy, the air filled with the faint scent of the candles you had lit earlier—something calming, like vanilla and sandalwood. Nicholas slid into bed beside you, his body radiating warmth as the mattress dipped slightly under his weight.

He turned to face you, his hand immediately finding your hip under the sheets, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your sleep shirt.

"She went down easy tonight," he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile. "Asked for an extra story, though. Had to make a deal with her."

You chuckled softly, leaning into his warmth. The house was quiet now, the comforting weight of the day behind you, but as he lay there beside you, it brought back memories of when your life together had just begun—back when you were both teenagers, when everything had been new and full of promise.

You first met Nicholas when you were sixteen. He was the guy every girl had a crush on at your high school. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a natural charm that made it hard to miss him. He was the star of the football team, the kind of guy who could breeze through practice and still show up to class with that easy smile that made everyone feel like they had his attention. But he wasn’t just the jock everyone expected him to be—he surprised everyone, including you, when he joined the speech and debate team.

You’d been on the team for a while, focused on honing your skills and winning competitions. You were serious about it, and Nicholas, at first, seemed like he was just there to round out his resume. But as the practices went on, you realized there was more to him. He was good—really good. And there was a determination in him, a drive to be better, that matched yours. You couldn’t help but respect that.

It wasn’t long before the two of you started spending more time together. At first, it was just for debate practice, going over arguments and strategies late into the afternoon, but soon, those sessions turned into something more. After one particularly grueling practice, he had offered to walk you home. The conversation flowed easily between you, and by the time you reached your doorstep, you realized you were laughing more with him than you had with anyone else in a long time.

From there, it became a regular thing—sneaking out late at night to meet up at the park, lying under the stars and talking about anything and everything. Nicholas wasn’t just the confident, easygoing football player everyone thought he was. He had dreams, ambitions, fears he didn’t show to the rest of the world. You found yourself drawn to him, not just for his looks or his charm, but for the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he was with you.

That summer, everything between you intensified. The chemistry was undeniable. What started as late-night talks turned into stolen kisses, and before long, the two of you were inseparable. You’d sneak into football games just to watch him play, and he’d sit through your debate tournaments, always cheering you on from the sidelines. It was passionate, reckless, and all-consuming.

But it wasn’t just about being young and in love. Even then, you knew there was something deeper between you. Nicholas wasn’t like other guys you’d dated before—he was serious about you, about your future together, and that seriousness only grew when you both turned twenty and found out you were pregnant with Amelia.

The day you told him, you’d been terrified. You hadn’t planned for it, hadn’t expected it. But Nicholas had surprised you, just like he always did. He had sat quietly for a moment, processing, before pulling you into his arms and telling you that everything would be okay. “We’ll figure it out,” he had said, and the way he looked at you, with so much certainty, made you believe it too.

He was by your side through it all—the doctor’s appointments, the late-night cravings, the fear of becoming parents when you were barely more than kids yourselves. When Amelia was born, everything shifted. You got married soon after, a small ceremony with just your families, a simple exchange of vows that cemented what you already knew—you were in this together for the long haul.

And now, as Nicholas lay beside you, his hand moving slowly along your waist, his foot gently slid between your legs, grazing your skin with a slow, teasing motion. The soft, subtle contact sent a shiver of warmth through you, each caress deliberate yet comforting. The quiet intimacy of the moment made your breath hitch, the simplicity of his touch pulling you deeper into the connection you both shared.

It was then, with his foot still brushing against your skin, that he whispered, “You know... I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s time we gave her a sibling.”

His words sent a thrill through you, your heart skipping a beat. The thought of another child had been floating around in your mind for a while, but hearing Nicholas say it out loud made it feel more real, more possible. You turned to look at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “You think so?”

Nicholas grinned, his eyes darkening with intent. “Yeah,” he whispered, “I think it’s time.”

You smiled. The thought of expanding your family, of watching Amelia become a big sister, felt right. But then, a small worry crept in. “What if she wakes up?”

Nicholas chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your neck. “She’s out like a light,” he whispered, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. “And besides, we’ll be quiet. I promise.”

His fingers teased your skin, and your breath hitched as the familiar heat between you began to rise. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment. He shifted, positioning himself over you, his body warm and strong, the weight of him grounding you in the moment. His lips found yours again, and the kiss deepened, filled with both tenderness and desire.

Nicholas’ hands moved with a practiced ease, exploring your body in ways that made your breath catch. He knew you better than anyone else—knew exactly how to touch you, how to bring you to the edge of wanting more. His lips trailed down your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and you could feel the intensity between you building with every touch, every kiss.

“You sure about this?” you whispered, your voice breathless as his hand slid lower, teasing you, making your body respond instinctively to his touch.

Nicholas’ gaze locked with yours, his voice low and filled with the same determination he had shown since the day you met. “I’m sure,” he said softly, his hand moving with purpose now.

He gave you a soft, reassuring smile. His hand continued its slow descent, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts with deliberate ease. The heat of his touch sent a shiver through you, and your breath hitched, your body already reacting to the familiar, electric sensation of his fingers teasing your skin.

With one smooth motion, he tugged your shorts down, the fabric sliding easily off your hips. He didn’t rush, didn’t break eye contact as he took his time undressing you, as if savoring every moment. His touch was firm yet tender, knowing exactly how to build the anticipation with every movement. Your shirt followed next, leaving you exposed under his gaze, but there was no awkwardness, no hesitation—only the heat of the moment, and the years of trust and love between you.

Nicholas hovered over you, his eyes dark and intent, the air between you thick with the shared heat of the moment. His lips brushed softly against yours before trailing down your jaw, his breath hot as he moved to your neck. You could feel the anticipation building with every touch, every slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips traveled lower, kissing a path down your chest, the warmth of his mouth sending a shiver through you as he reached the curve of your breasts. He paused there, taking his time, his tongue flicking over your skin before gently closing his lips around one of your nipples. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you gasped, your fingers tangling in the sheets as his tongue swirled in slow, lazy circles.

As his mouth worked one breast, his hand slid up to your other, fingers teasing your nipple in a rhythm that matched the flicks of his tongue. The heat between you intensified, every touch, every flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands knew exactly where to go, building the tension, his fingers squeezing lightly before shifting to explore more, heightening the sensitivity of your skin.

His free hand, meanwhile, began to slide lower, tracing down your stomach and between your thighs. You gasped again as his fingers gently slipped under the fabric, teasing you at first, drawing out the anticipation. He alternated between kissing your breasts and watching your reactions as his fingers dipped lower, brushing against your most sensitive spot with an expert touch.

You arched into him, your breath catching as his fingers slipped inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. The feeling of his mouth on your breasts, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers inside you, sent sparks through your body. He curled his fingers just right, finding that perfect rhythm, and your body responded immediately, hips lifting toward him as your hands gripped the sheets tighter.

Nicholas shifted the covers up slightly, casting the room in a soft shadow as he lowered himself under the blankets, his hands gently guiding your thighs apart. His breath hovered just above your skin, and the moment felt intimate, almost reverent, as he placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh. He always took his time, prolonging the anticipation, heightening your awareness of every touch, every kiss.

“Relax,” he murmured, you could feel the vibration of his words against your skin.

Then, without further teasing, his mouth found you.

The first touch of his tongue was slow and deliberate, a soft flick that sent a wave of pleasure through your entire body. You gasped, your fingers instinctively gripping the sheets as he settled into a rhythm. His free hand slid back up to your breast, teasing your nipple again, squeezing lightly as his mouth moved over you—exploring, teasing, and then going deeper. His digits slipping in and out, complementing the rhythm of his tongue.

Nicholas knew exactly how to work you, his tongue gliding over your most sensitive spot in slow, tantalizing circles before shifting, changing the pressure, keeping you on the edge without letting you tip over. The pleasure built steadily, every stroke of his tongue a carefully measured step toward your undoing. His fingers worked in time with his mouth, adding pressure and depth where you needed it most, the pleasure mounting with every touch.

You tried to stay quiet, your teeth sinking into your lower lip to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out, but it was impossible to keep still. Your hips moved involuntarily, responding to the rhythm he set, chasing the pleasure he so expertly gave.

Beneath the covers, the soft sound of his breath mingled with the wet, quiet sounds of his mouth working against you, the sheets muffling the intensity of the moment but not diminishing it. The world outside the bed faded to nothing, and it was just Nicholas—his hands gripping your breast and working between your legs, his mouth coaxing your body higher and higher with each flick of his tongue.

Your fingers tangled in the sheets, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Nicholas seemed to sense it too—he pressed his mouth more firmly against you, his tongue moving faster, more precise, and his fingers working in perfect rhythm, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The tension inside you coiled tighter, ready to snap.

The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with pleasure as he continued, relentless but tender, pushing you further and further. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Nicholas shifted slightly, his tongue finding that perfect rhythm, his fingers deepening their motion, and the world seemed to shatter around you.

Your body tensed, the pleasure flooding through you in waves as you came, your hips arching toward him, your hands gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white. Nicholas didn’t stop, his tongue still working you through every shuddering moment, his fingers moving in time with the tremors running through your body as you trembled beneath him.

When the last wave of pleasure finally subsided, you lay there, breathless, your body still tingling from the intensity of it all. Nicholas emerged from under the covers, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he crawled up to meet you. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him, his body pressing down against yours in a way that was both grounding and electrifying.

"That’s just the start," he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire, his hands sliding up your sides again, ready to continue what he had so expertly begun.

Nicholas hovered over you, his body pressed against yours, his breath still warm from the intensity of what he had just done. You kissed him back deeply, your hand instinctively sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer. His skin was hot, his muscles taut beneath your touch, and you could feel the weight of his need pressing against you through the thin fabric that still separated him from you.

He pulled away slightly, his hands moving to the waistband of his own red plaid pj's, and without a word, he smoothly removed them, followed by his fitted shirt, tossing them onto the floor. The muscles in his arms flexed with the movement, and the light from the bedside lamp caught the lines of his chest and abdomen. He stood over you for a moment, naked and confident, his body strong and familiar yet still capable of making your breath catch.

You took in the sight of him—the hard lines of his chest, the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the subtle sheen of sweat that glistened on his collarbone. Even after all these years, he had the ability to leave you in awe, the years of familiarity doing nothing to dull the sharp edge of your desire for him.

He noticed the way you were looking at him, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he leaned down again, brushing his lips softly against yours, his kissed trailing along your jaw, down to your neck. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers spreading wide over your ribcage, holding you firmly as his mouth explored your skin. Every touch, every kiss was filled with the same passion he had shown since the beginning, but there was a tenderness to it now, something that went beyond just physical desire.

He kissed his way down your body, the warmth of his lips sending a ripple of heat through you with each soft touch. You could feel the hard lines of his body pressing against you as he moved lower, his hands guiding your legs apart again, his breath teasing your skin.

But this time, as he moved between your thighs, he paused, lifting his head just slightly to meet your eyes. "You ready for this?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a kind of determined softness.

You nodded, your body already aching for him, your skin alive with the anticipation of what was to come.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Nicholas positioned himself over you, his body perfectly aligned with yours. His hands slid up to cradle your face, his eyes locking with yours as he lowered himself, entering you with a slow, deep thrust that made your breath catch in your throat. The connection between you was immediate and intense, the weight of his body grounding you as he began to move.

He started slow, his movements steady and controlled, each thrust pushing deeper, filling you completely. Your body responded to him instinctively, your hips arching to meet his, your hands gripping his shoulders as the pleasure built between you, hot and urgent.

Nicholas leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both gentle and hungry, the slow grind of his hips driving you both higher with each thrust. The heat between you was overwhelming, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, the intimacy of the moment making everything feel heightened, more intense.

As he picked up the pace, the pleasure intensified, and you could feel the tension coiling deep inside you again, the familiar ache building as Nicholas moved faster, his breath coming in shallow gasps against your neck. His elbows resting on the either side of your head, his body pressing against yours in a way that left no space between you.

The sounds of your quiet gasps and his low groans filled the room, mixing with the rustling of the sheets and the steady rhythm of your bodies coming together. Every movement was precise, deliberate, and filled with the urgency of the desire that had been building between you since the moment he climbed into bed.

Nicholas' movements became more intense, his pace quickening as the heat between you built to an almost unbearable level. You could feel every inch of him, the pressure and the pleasure combining in a way that left you breathless, your body arching to meet his with every thrust.

Your hips lifted to meet him, pushing yourself closer to the edge with every thrust. Nicholas groaned softly. He kissed your shoulder, his breath hot and unsteady against your skin, his body tense with the effort of holding back, waiting for you.

“I want us to come together,” he whispered, his voice rough with need, his thrusts hitting your spot in a way that made it impossible to think about anything else.

His breath quickened, his movements becoming more urgent, his hands now gripping your waist as he thrust deeper, faster.His own control was slipping, his low groans vibrating against your skin as his body tensed.

"Come with me," he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, waiting for you to tip over the edge.

That was all it took. His words, way his body moved against yours—it all came crashing together in a flood of sensation. Your orgasm hit you hard, your body tightening around him as waves of pleasure coursed through you, your breath catching in your throat as you cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment.

Nicholas followed right behind you, his body shuddering as he gave in to his own release, his movements growing erratic as he thrust deep one last time, his own moans mingling with yours as he came, his body trembling above yours as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still pressed together, both of you catching your breath, still coming down from the high, a reminder of the intimacy you had just shared.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his breath still heavy. “That was… perfect."

Just as the two of you lay there, tangled in each other’s arms, your breathing still steadying, you heard the soft creak of the bedroom door. Your heart skipped a beat as a small, tentative voice broke the quiet.

“Mommy?” Amelia's voice was soft but clear in the stillness of the room, filled with concern. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Your mind raced. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you frantically pulled the covers over yourself and grabbed for your shorts and sleep shirt, dressing hurriedly under the blanket. Nicholas watched you with wide eyes, his own face a mix of panic and amusement as you scrambled to get decent.

Finally, after a moment that felt far too long, you managed to pull your shirt on, smoothing your hair and taking a deep breath before facing Amelia. She stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed bear, her little brow furrowed with worry.

“Ames, baby,” you called softly, sliding out of bed and quickly making your way over to her. You crouched down in front of her, your hand resting gently on her shoulder. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s not hurt, I promise.”

Amelia looked up at you with wide, concerned eyes. “But I heard you... You sounded like you were sad or something.”

You smiled softly, brushing a hand through her hair. “I know, baby, but I’m not sad. Sometimes grown-ups just talk loud when they’re... having a conversation. I’m really sorry if I scared you.”

Her little face softened a bit, though she still looked unsure. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m really okay,” you assured her, pulling her into a hug. “I promise, sweetheart.”

You could feel her relax a little in your arms, and you stood up, taking her small hand in yours. “Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

She nodded, still clutching her bear, and you gently led her back down the hallway toward her room. The quiet creak of the floorboards underfoot seemed louder in the calm of the night, the house otherwise still. When you reached her room, you flicked on the small nightlight beside her bed, casting a soft, comforting glow around the room.

You guided her to her bed, pulling back the covers and helping her climb in. She snuggled down immediately, her little bear tucked close to her chest. You sat beside her, tucking the blankets around her small frame, smoothing the fabric out with gentle hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Mommy?” she asked again, her voice small as she blinked sleepily up at you.

You leaned down and kissed her forehead, brushing a hand through her soft hair. “I’m sure, baby. I’m so sorry I woke you up, but everything’s fine. You can go back to sleep now, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes already starting to droop as the comfort of her bed took over. “Okay. Can you leave the door open a little?”

“Of course,” you whispered, giving her one last kiss before standing up. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Nicholas had followed quietly, standing in the doorway with a soft smile on his face. He stepped forward, leaning down to kiss Amelia's cheek. “Goodnight, Amelia. Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy,” she mumbled, already half asleep.

You and Nicholas exchanged a tender smile, quietly backing out of the room and leaving the door slightly ajar, just as she had asked.

As you returned to your bedroom, you let out a small sigh of relief, the tension from earlier finally melting away. Nicholas wrapped an arm around your waist as you slid back under the covers together.

“Well, that was close,” he whispered with a chuckle, his breath warm against your ear.

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “Definitely closer than I’d like.”

Nicholas kissed the top of your head, his hand resting comfortably on your side as you settled into the bed once more. “We’re going to have to be a lot quieter next time,” he teased, pulling you closer.

“Definitely,” you agreed, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as the quiet of the night wrapped around you both once again.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas alexander chavez imagine #nicholas alexander chavez x you #nicholas alexander chavez fic #nicholas chavez #writing #smut #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez smut

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playnextdoor · 25 days ago

Text

I adore you puppy

summary: you and caitlyn try a collar and a leash

CW: swearing, drinking, slight intoxication, dom! caitlyn, the reader wears a collar and leash, the reader is referred to as "puppy" but its not petplay, slight slapping (i love it idc), Cait is a little mean (whats new), reader's chest is referred to as 'breasts', fingering (r! receiving), not really proofread despite it sitting in my drafts for the past week

The thought of introducing your kinks to Caitlyn crosses your mind one drunken night. Red wine makes you horny and tired, and you stretch out on the couch, trying to look seductive, but in reality, it looks like you’re struggling not to fall. Caitlyn, practically sober as she watches you, finds it endearing.

“I’ve been thinking,” you say, slurring slightly as you sit up and sip wine from your sleek glass. Caitlyn’s eyes follow how your tongue traces the rim of the glass, lingering on your lips. You’re oblivious to the effect you have on her. She wants to take you to bed, cradle your darling face, and perhaps tease you a little. But her respect for you keeps her patient, she’ll wait until you’re sober.

Caitlyn glances up from her book, the candlelight casting a warm glow over the left side of her face.

“What do ya think..” you hiccup, earning a soft laugh from her, “of me wearing a collar?”You finish the thought as you empty your glass.

Caitlyn blinks in surprise and then shakes her head, chuckling under her breath.

“I’m not opposed,” she says, her body leaning toward yours. Her movement invites a kiss, and you meet her halfway. She plants one kiss on the corner of your mouth, then presses her lips softly to yours, letting it linger. Before she can deepen it, you jab a finger into her chest.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you mumble, your half-lidded eyes locking with hers. Her calm and composed expression only fuels your anticipation. She smiles softly.

“Yes, I think you’d look adorable,” she replies, taking your hand gently from her chest. “But I think you’ll feel better in the morning if you drink some water and lie down.”

Rolling your eyes, you leave her and stumble toward the kitchen. As you giggle, you hear Caitlyn’s quick footsteps behind you. She’s close, ready to catch you if you trip down the long staircase.

Two nights later, you waited for her arrival, just as you did most nights. The moon illuminated her room, highlighting its true size and casting a soft glow over everything. Your eyes lingered on the intricate mosaic paintings adorning the tall ceilings. The sheets on her bed, smooth and luxurious, wrapped around you like a silky sateen ocean.

Her familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway, each heavy boot fall growing closer. She opened the door gently, unaware that you were already awake, and your body turned toward her. You watched her undress like a creep, not that she would mind. Loosening her dark blue, almost black hair from its ponytail, a soft sigh slipping from her lips. Facing away from you, she began to undress. You couldn’t help but muffle your giggles as you notice her struggle, nearly tripping over her feet while shedding the multiple layers of clothing.

“Cait,” you whispered harshly for the third time, startling her. She dropped her eyepatch, the final item she had been removing. Clutching her chest, she spun toward you, her expression shifting into a defeated smile.

“Sorry,” you murmured softly.

She shook her head, silently dismissing your apology, and approached you with something hidden behind her back.

“I have something for you,” she whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. Despite her composed demeanor, she kept her voice low, as if the guards a few halls down might hear. “Take a look.”

You sat up in the tangle of sheets, and Caitlyn steadied herself by placing a knee on the bed.

She pulled out a small black box, just large enough to fit in her slim hand. As she opened it toward herself, she bit her lip.

“You’re gonna kill me,” she muttered.

When she finally turned the box toward you, your breath hitched. Inside lay a beautiful black leather collar, accented with a silver pendant. The shining cursive letters spelling Kirramman’s made your cheeks flush.

“Caitlyn! Have you lost your mind?” you half whispered exclaimed, playfully shoving her shoulder. Her eyes met yours, and her soft smile mirrored your embarrassment. Both of you blushed like awkward teenagers on a first date.

“I only asked one person to make it, and I promise they don’t know its intended use,” she replied, pulling the collar from its box. The protective cotton piece fell away, revealing a silver chain attached to the leather. She tested the leash, letting the metal clink softly as she ran her fingers over it.

“And what exactly is the intended purpose?” you asked, a devious smile creeping across your lips. You already knew the answer; you were the one who’d suggested it, duh.

Caitlyn shrugged, faking innocence. “To remind you of your place. You’ve had trouble listening lately,” she teased, her smug grin now firmly in place. Her gaze locked onto yours, silently seeking permission without pressuring you.

Her words sent heat coursing through you. Caitlyn’s authoritative tone, paired with the quiet, deliberate attention she always gave you, left you squeezing your thighs together.

“You need to tell me, my love,” she said, snapping you out of your thoughts. Her finger tilted your chin upward, forcing you to meet her eyes.

“Uhhhh, yeah,” you stammered, blinking up at her. Her tall figure seemed to grow even more imposing, towering over you as her voice wrapped around you like a command.

“No, no, no,” Caitlyn laughed, and you couldn’t tell if she found your reaction cute or pathetic—probably both. “It’s yes…?” she prompted, her tone expectant.

Her fingers trailed down from your chin to your neck, gripping it gently. The slight pressure made your breath hitch, and you barely suppressed a moan.

“Yes, miss,” you finally whispered.

"Oh, come on now, up," Caitlyn commands.

She sits gracefully, wearing nothing but lacy black panties and a loosely tied silky blue robe, her black eyepatch in place just as it was that morning. The way her legs cross so effortlessly has you shifting uncomfortably in your current position.

You're nearly nude, just your underwear and the collar you'd so desperately wanted to wear. Now, with Caitlyn checking on you every minute to make sure you're okay, the caress of her fingers over your cheek, the weight of it feels all too real.

You perch yourself on the sofa beside her, glancing up. She notices everything-the slight sheen in your eyes, the unsteady rise and fall of your chest, and the way the metal leash gleams as it dangles between you. Her hand remains steady on the handle, a subtle reminder of how she’s in control.

"You've been good, yeah?" she asks softly, her hand lifting to cup your cheek. You can’t help but lean into it. Her thumb brushes gently across your skin, leaving you warm and utterly undone beneath her touch.

You nod, but Caitlyn gives you a light slap across your cheek.

You nod, but Caitlyn lightly slaps your cheek.

“Speak,” she demands, her words sharp. You shrink under her gaze, feeling yourself grow small.

“Yes, miss,” you whisper hoarsely, your hands clasping together as they fidget, bracing for her next move.

“So, does that mean you deserve to be touched?” she presses, her hand gently soothing the heat rising on your cheek.

“Yes, miss,” you answer more firmly this time, earning a satisfied hum from Caitlyn. She pats her lap, her hand swiftly wrapping the metal chain around her wrist as you scramble to comply, nearly toppling over in your rush.

“Well, you have to tell me where you need me,” she teases, tugging the chain gently while you wiggle into place beside her. Her hand glides over your neck, collarbone, the curve of your chest, and down to your stomach.

“Do you want me inside yet?” she asks, her fingers trailing down your body, brushing over your clothed clit. The white, lacy-frilled panties she chose for you stand in sharp contrast to the black leather collar snug around your neck.

You nod eagerly, only to realize too late that you’ve made the same mistake again.

Pulling harsher this time, Caitlyn caused you to topple nearly over her. Her condescending tone makes you want to hide in a corner. “Really?” She asks with disappointment hints in her voice.

“I—” you stammer, scrambling back into position. The word sticks in your throat as the restraint tugs firmly against you. Her warm and intoxicating scent overwhelms your senses, leaving you helplessly melting into her presence. “I want you inside, miss. Please.”

She releases the leash and cups your face gently, guiding your gaze to hers. Her lips meet yours in a soft, healing kiss. As you kiss back timidly, she presses harder against your clit, making you hiss as the friction builds. You grind down instinctively, gasping when her teeth nip at your bottom lip.

“Take them off,” she commands, patting your cunt lightly to urge you. You slide off to the side, removing the damp underwear with shaky hands. Folding them neatly, you place them on the armrest before turning back to her, your eyes wide and glossy with anticipation.

She watches you with an almost possessive pride, savoring the sight of your desperation. Knowing she’s the only one who gets to see you like this—so raw, so eager—feeds her. It’s intoxicating. The two of you are unashamedly perverse, but Caitlyn always takes it further, and you love her for it.

“So noisy today, hmm?” Caitlyn teases, her fingers playing with your folds as your hips rock weakly to meet her touch. Your hands rise to your chest, fiddling with the collar around your neck. The sight sends Caitlyn reeling.

“Maybe I need to gag you, yeah?” she murmurs, her voice strained to match your breathless mewls. You nod eagerly, the movement growing frantic as she presses two fingers firmly against your swollen clit, grinding slowly and deliberately.

“Uh-uh, Cait—” you choke out, grabbing at the cold chain for comfort. The soft clicking of the metal and the mix of your moans fill the room. Forgotten, the leash handle dangles loosely from her hand as Caitlyn watches you lose yourself on her fingers. Leaning closer, she struggles to see clearly past her eyepatch, and you arch instinctively, putting on an even more shameless show for her.

Leaning back onto her hand, you take control, fucking yourself on her fingers. One arm clings to the headboard of the couch for support as you bounce and grind in a rhythmic frenzy. Caitlyn watches, captivated by the soft ‘o’ of your mouth, the slick, obscene strings of arousal dripping down her fingers, the way your free hand grips the leash tightly.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Caitlyn gasps, her voice heavy with desire. Her fingers move with your faltering rhythm, guiding you as exhaustion creeps in. She presses her palm harder against your clit, each contact pushing you closer. Caitlyn knows this move too well; she’s perfected it. Memories flood back of her chest pressed to your back, her fingers curving just right, leaving you trembling for hours afterward.

This time, you nod eagerly, her two fingers sliding deeper as your voice catches. The rough drag of her palm sends sparks shooting through you, pooling heat low in your stomach.

“Y’gonna come?” Caitlyn coos. You nod again, your wide eyes meeting hers, pleading. She visibly restrains herself from yanking your leash to deny you of your release. Sweat gleams on your chest as it rises and falls, your breaths uneven.

“Beg then,” she commands.

You whine first, and she tugs the leash sharply.

“C’mon, you can do it. What happened to my sweet puppy, hmm?” Her teasing strikes a nerve, the word puppy breaking you. Your body gushes in her hand, trembling.

“Please miss —Caitlyn, please need you.” You try speeding your hips up, but she's already steps ahead of you. Her fingers relentlessly speed up, and she can tell how much you like them when she slightly curves them. She watches as you plea and cry, head tilting back as she unashamedly watches the way your tits bounce with every thrust of her fingers.

“Cait— mm gonna,” you can barely get the words out as if this girl’s fingers can’t get any faster. The soft squelching of your arousal as her fingers splatter in little spurts over the sofa. You glance down and nearly come again at the sight of her fingers playing with your folds, your brain turning to mush.

“Holy shit!” a high-pitched sound cried out as you came, falling onto the back of the sofa. Caitlyn nearly dives onto you, fingers slipping out as she rubs soothing circles on your swollen clit. And all you can do is take it so far gone that you can't help but jerk every time Cait flicks your bud a certain way.

Your legs clamp together instinctively, trapping her wrist as you slump against the couch. Heart racing, you whimper softly as Caitlyn withdraws her hand, wiping her fingers before leaning in to kiss your cheek. Unhooking the leash from your collar, she steps away, grabbing her robe and the long-forgotten glass of water.

“So… puppy, hmm?” she teases, a smirk tugging at her lips.

You glare at her, cheeks flushing, which only makes her laugh.

“Enough,” you mumble, turning your face into the pillow to hide your embarrassment. Caitlyn trails her hand up your bare

back, her nails scratching lightly, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“It’s cute, no? I know you like it,” she says softly, her voice dripping with confidence as her fingers trace idle patterns across your skin.

You nod into the pillow, fidgeting, too embarrassed to face her. Caitlyn always teases you like this after your moments together, her confidence making it impossible to get back at her. But this time, she lets you be. Brushing back the hair covering your neck, she leans down to kiss the spot where the collar sat, trailing soft kisses down your back.

Her lips trail along your bare skin, soft and gentle, as she whispers, “You know, I love seeing you like this. All mine.”

Your face heats, but you can’t help the muttered response that escapes. “You’re insufferable.” The words are muffled into the pillow, your voice tinged with lingering embarrassment.

Caitlyn laughs softly, the sound low and warm in your ear. “Insufferable, huh?” she repeats, her hand wandering to lightly pinch your thigh, earning a startled squeak from you. “Pretty bold for someone who was just crying on my fingers.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” you mutter, rolling onto your side to glance at her, your lips curving into a small, tired smile.

“Oh, puppy,” she grins, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “you’re lucky I fucking adore you.”

The words catch you off guard, leaving you warm and speechless. Caitlyn leans in, her lips brushing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss that sends a comforting warmth in your chest.

a/n: i apologize for this unintentional writing hiatus, life has been crazy. this was supposed to be longer but i got lazy and insecure lol, hope you enjoyed it anyway

#caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn smut #caitlyn kiramman smut #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn kiramman x reader smut #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn arcane #arcane smut #arcane x reader smut #orion's writing

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