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cardentist · 2 years ago

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Context: [Link] (highly recommend reading even if it’s long) I debated where I should put this, but with the length of this post I want to put @nothorses master post about transandrophobia right at the top [Link] if this post is too lengthy for you or you'd like to read more after chewing on this then I Implore you to open that link and hold onto it.

I don't want to call out this person in particular, I'm certain they don't mean any harm by it and it's not within our best interests to pick fights with people who have (in this commenter's words) Nearly all of the same beliefs with some minor squabbles who are willing to support each other anyways.

but it's exactly Because I'm certain this person means well that frustrates me.

years ago I would've said something along the lines of "this is no different from saying 'I'm not homophobic because I'm not afraid of gay people.'" that it's nitpicking Accurate terminology by breaking it into pieces and judging the words its made up of individually when they're obviously intended to be seen as a whole. trans Men face oppression for being trans Men in a way that cis men do not, just like trans Women face oppression for being trans Women in a way that cis women do not.

but that was a long time ago, the perspective has changed.

"trans men can't have this term because it's too close to affirming cishet white men when they say that they're oppressed for being men" was a talking point back when "transmisandry" was the terminology that was landed on. and while my thought process about that was the same I Understood the kneejerk reaction. because there Was a concerted effort by certain cishet weirdos to make "misandry" a term that made them systematically oppressed by women, and more specifically was used to Deny the existence of misogyny (very ironically from how they acted).

(that said, I have my own reasons for liking that term even if I do see the problems with it, I understand why it was chosen at the time. which I get into here [Link])

"transandrophobia" was coined Specifically to avoid that connotation, to Denounce the association and address that frankly (on the surface) Reasonable kneejerk reaction while still being recognizable and serving the same purpose.

but the talking point about it remained Exactly The Same, completely unchanged despite the change in association. because the point was never About it evoking something unpleasant (though that certainly helped with swaying bystanders in the conversation) it was about the absolute refusal to believe in the concept of people being hated For their manhood. in masculinity intersecting with oppression More than just as a neutral trait.

now, what I'm Not going to say is that the concept of androphobia is a systemic oppression that's upheld by the majority or any governmental body. not mine and certainly not any that I've heard of. but I will Also say that conflating the Recognition of a sentiment that real people express With systemic oppression is not only unhelpful (there's a lot of things that aren't systemic but still matter) but has Also been used to gate keep minorities by exclusionist groups Plenty of times before.

such as when people stopped being able to insist that asexuals don't experience trauma for being asexual At All and instead insisted that it wasn't Systematic and therefore they didn't belong in the queer community. no amount of studies, no amount of personal accounts, no examining of actual law and actual acts of oppression from governing bodies or places of work would sway them. because as long as they could say "It's Not Systemic" they could dismiss it out of hand. when, really, even if they were right it shouldn't matter. if someone experiences trauma they deserve to have the source of that trauma taken seriously no matter the underlying cause. they shouldn't have to Prove that it's important enough to justify caring about.

but to get to my point 9 paragraphs in from where we started, the idea that anti-masculinity or androphobia or anti-man sentiment or Whatever you want to call it Doesn't Exist is pretty ridiculous coming from within the trans community for Several Reasons.

terfs hate trans women because they're transphobic, but they Also hate trans women because they're radfems. a core tenant of radfem ideology Is The Demonization Of Men And Of Masculinity. they think trans women are dangerous Because They See Them As Men Trying To Infiltrate Women's Spaces. and Yes that is obviously transphobia, but the way they talk about trans women is Not magically disconnected from their view of manhood or masculinity or Men As A Group. though Undoubtedly they will side with cis men if it gives them the opportunity to attack trans women, in part because it Is that intersection of Both anti-man sentiments And transphobia And misogyny that has them frothing at the mouth to hate trans women.

(see this: [Link] for a more in depth discussion on radfem ideology as a whole)

and the thing is, someone might be tempted to say "well their hatred of masculinity is Obviously tied to trans women, so there's no point in acknowledging it as anything But transmisogyny." and in fact, that's not a hypothetical at all, it's the default relationship people have with this concept.

but this mindset affects everyone, Especially otherwise marginalized groups.

radfems seeing men as Inherently And Biologically Violent, as rapists and unthinking monsters, Absolutely And Undeniably affects how they treat people of color (Especially black people). white women stalking black men and calling the cops on them because they see their existence as Dangerous has been a Thing for as long as cops have existed (it's the Reason that cops exist) and has been Documented as a current issue in the wake of black lives matter and the murder of black men by the cops. it is an attempt from white women to have black men murdered, to cause violence to them without having to physically implicate themselves, all while using the perception of themselves as inherent victims (small and docile and innocent) with the perception of black men as monsters.

and it Should go without saying, but this Obviously Is Not Saying that black men inherently have it worse than black women. recognizing the oppression of one demographic within an oppressed group Should Not Inherently Mean pitting them against other demographics within that same group. we should just be allowed to point out an experience that some people can have and let that be a neutral (if important) statement. the things black women go through because of Their intersection of racism and misogyny are well and truly Horrific, I certainly don't need to prove that.

and In Fact, black women are victims of that Same intersection of racism and androphobia that we see both from terfs and from white people everywhere. because "womanhood" Almost Without Question means "White womanhood," to have black traits (or to have Non-White traits) is to be closer to masculinity in the eyes of racists.

when terfs post a picture of a cis woman and harass and mock them for Clearly being a trans woman who will Never fool anybody it's universally because the woman in the picture has traits that aren't traditionally upheld as the standard for white women. it's misogyny, it's androphobia, it's transphobia, it's racism. because these ideas Aren't Inherently Separate. they Build on each other and they affect Everybody, because people who think this way don't just turn it on and off like a switch when they're attacking the "intended" target.

and All of these ideas come together and inform the situation with trans men, both on this issue specifically and As A Whole.

just the same as we see that intersection of transphobia and misogyny and androphobia with how trans women are treated (combined, of course, with other relevant aspects of an individual) we see much the same with trans men.

the difference is that people inherently Recognize that what's happening to trans women is more than Just ideas of transphobia (more than Just wanting people to stay the gender that they were assigned at birth), but they recognize Only the misogyny aspect. so when the same conversation is turned onto trans men people don't know what to do with it, Especially when combined with the (unfortunately common) denial that trans men experience Misogyny either.

that complex web of interlocking concepts, and in some cases the Idea Of intersectionality At All, are Denied to trans men. who are then minimized For the perceived lack in complexity (in their oppression, in their identities, and in their lived experiences).

"why not just call it anti-transmasc sentiment then? people might take it more seriously." even Ignoring Everything I've mentioned so far, the Reason I'm not happy with this is because trans men Are attacked (harassed, oppressed, however you want to phrase it) Specifically For Their Identities As Men. and as much as I Also want to establish that behavior and sentiment As stemming from transphobia, I Also don't think we benefit by erasing or softening that idea to make it more palatable to people who don't want to believe it.

this was a response I got to that post I linked at the very top of this essay. I trust that anyone reaching this point has an idea of how silly this is in context, if they haven't read that context themselves. and in fact I wasn't going to acknowledge it at all (I only have this image on hand because I took it to have a laugh with friends). but it's a Convenient and Simple illustration of this exact issue.

the hatred of trans men in trans, queer, and activist spaces is informed and Justified by the hatred of men as a whole. because If you can convince people that trans men are Inherently a privileged group you can justify presenting anything they do as attacking those less privileged than them.

Men are violent, Men shout down women, Men are misogynists, and so a trans man pointing out the existence of his own oppression while actively acknowledging the oppression of nonbinary people and trans women (Only making the point that it's unhelpful to try to quantify this oppression as a tier list and use that to inform how you treat individual people) that trans man is Actually just a Typical Violent Man Exerting His Privilege To Oppress Poor Women.

it's, very ironically, a silencing tactic to avoid addressing the oppression of a minority group to the benefit of the person doing it.

a trans man's manhood is a weapon that is Constantly used against him, and I Might (Might) be willing to call that "anti-trans masc sentiment" if I didn't know where it Stemmed from.

the relationship between radfems and the queer community is, to understate it, Fraught.

for most people who consider themselves to be trans allies, it's Easy to see that terfs are, you know, Bad. to understand that they're a transphobic group and Therefore dangerous. but by-and-large that'd Main and Only thing that that's understood about them.

and to an extent, that's because people believe that that understanding is Enough. that it's Enough to dismiss it out of hand and refuse to look at or Think about what terfs have to say. which is Understandable.

the issue is that no matter how much they Believe that terfs are bad and wrong, they're Still Vulnerable to being influenced by radfem ideology, talking points, and Active Intentional Manipulation if they don't actually know the Details of what it is they believe and how to spot them.

as a Very basic example, people who Believe "terfs are bad because they hate trans people" but Don't understand "radfems are bad because equate men and masculinity as being Inherent Violent and therefore inherently harmful to women" can see something like "men don't belong in women's spaces" and Not Understand that something they may be genuinely trying to consider or understand Is Radfem Rhetoric.

that specific example is, at this point, commonly understood as a terf dog whistle. but it's largely Only understood as a stand in for trans women and called out as transmisogyny.

which is a problem when, say, someone looks at a trans man talking about his experiences is oppression and trauma and says "this Man is shouting down women! this Man is being misogynistic and stealing spaces away from women! this Man doesn't Belong!" and Not Understand That It's The Same Idea. Because the person being targeted Isn't being misgendered (Most of the time), the exact Same silencing and othering tactic is used Effective against trans mascs while not being Recognized as that At All by the majority group.

sometimes these things happen because people passively absorb radfem rhetoric, integrate into their own way of thinking, and then use it against other minority groups without understanding what they're doing. sometimes this is done Very Intentionally by terfs trying to spread their own ideology and break up and cause rifts between groups.

this is not a hypothetical, this is Repeating History that we see over and over again with exclusionists in queer spaces. masterposts at the time had Dedicated Segments talking about the ways these groups shared ideas between each other, between radfems, even when the individuals Don't hate the same people [Link 1, Link 2]

there were Documented Instances of terfs Admitting that they had secret aphobe accounts that they were using to try to indoctrinate ace and aro exclusionists into their beliefs. there's documented instances of terfs admitting that they got to that point By Being indoctrinated through ace and aro exclusionist beliefs and talking points. we had terfs Openly comparing their ideologies to exclusionists Explicitly to recruit them. [Link 1, Link 2, Link 3, Link 4, Link 5]

Because if you're Willing to accept that these ideas Are True, that the Logic that terf ideology is based on is Sound, then you're More Likely to accept when that same logic is pointed at another group. they target people that you're more willing to hate to pull you into their beliefs entirely.

and some people will go on never hating trans people (or never hating trans Women or trans Men or Nonbinary People or Binary Trans People, whatever the particular poison they're drinking), but it doesn't suddenly become Okay when radfem ideology is being used to hurt groups that aren't common sense associated with it.

what's more, these exclusionists groups Hated when you pointed out that connection. would spit and yell and call you bigoted for Daring to make the connection, even when (at it's peak and Most Ridiculous) they were quite literally taking posts originally written by terfs and replacing "trans women" with "ace people." Word For Word. which means it Never got addressed, no matter who pointed it out or how obviously wide spread it was.

and it's Tiring to have to say "if you can't care about how this affects trans men then at Least consider how perpetuating this idea puts trans women in danger" But It's True.

if you let people perpetuate the idea that trans men are Violent, that they're Oppressive, that they don't Deserve to have their own spaces, that they Inherently talk over and erase other oppressed groups by talking about their own issues and asking for compassion, if you Let people say "this group of trans people is Inherently Lesser" Because They Are Men, Because Of Their Closeness To Masculinity, Because Testosterone Or Maleness Is Inherently Corrupting

the jump between Which trans group you think of this way is not as difficult as one would hope. and if we're Never able to address it for what it is, address it As radfem driven androphobia And transphobia And exclusionism then we're going to Keep creating spaces where people are vulnerable to indoctrination. to radfems, to terfs, to exclusionists, to Extremist Reactionary groups of all kinds.

and beyond all of That, as alarming and Important as it may be, it's Also worth noting that radfems (and even Terfs Specifically) Do use androphobia against trans men, even as they force feminine labels on them.

Yes there are the obvious direction that terf oppression of trans men takes. treating them like confused women and trying to indoctrinate and detransition them to Save them or Fix them (which, in itself, is a type of violence). and there's the Resentment of "the frigid uncaring woman trying to identify out of her oppression to instead oppress other women," which isn't a sentiment totally Removed from the issue with how trans mascs can be treated in queer spaces (quite the opposite really, punishing trans men for daring to Be men by equating them with privilege and thus treating them as both an outsider and a threat).

but there Are instances of terfs treating trans men as outright Predatory. as a threat to Them and as a threat to the "poor confused women" that get "manipulated" into "the trans cult" by the trans men they Couldn't indoctrinate.

trans men are vulnerable little girls that are too stupid to know what's good for them and have to be converted Saved, they're the poor lesbians being stolen away from the beds of Deserving radfems women, up until they're Too masculine. until they have beards, until their voices are deep, until they stop wearing makeup, until they're balding or their waste changes or or or-

then they've Mutilated Their Bodies, then they're Frightening, then they're Aggressive and Invasive and Need To Be Dealt With, then they're Ugly Men even as radfems try to deny it.

the feminine trans man is a mark, he's a damsel in distress that radfems want to isolate and indoctrinate. the masculine trans man is Frankenstein's Monster, he's an ugly brutalized image of masculinity, the picture of what radfems hate othered away from what they're a Picture Of by radfems' transphobia. Uncanny and hated just the same.

this isn't "worse" than what terfs do trans women, it's not "better" either, It's The Same, It's The Same.

transphobia, misogyny, and androphobia in a Melting Pot to create a horrific buffet of oppression and abuse. manifesting Differently in different situations and between different people, and yet Fundamentally Connected through the beliefs and ideologies at play.

taking away one of these terms used to Describe this phenomenon doesn't Help, it obfuscates the fact that these things Are connected. which Worsens our ability to Understand them and Address them.

these ideas are Important, not just for trans men but for All Of Us.

and while I'm here, I'd like to address the Other issue I have with proposed alternatives like "anti-trans masc sentiment," Even when proposed in good faith.

if we were to go back and reexamine the terminology for the queer community as a whole and assess if these terms are the most Efficient they possibly could be, would we change them? would we stop using a term like "homophobia" if softening it could make it more palatable? make it easier to introduce the concept to people on the fence? make it easier to ask people to address their own biases without alienating them? if we did away with terms like "internalized homophobia" and instead asked people to address their "complex relationship with gayness" would we be able to get More people to listen?

maybe we could, Maybe softening the term would instead lead to people taking these ideas Less seriously exactly Because it's less direct, Because it's soft, Because it deliberately seeks to Not draw a reaction from a reader. I genuinely couldn't say how this would play out in practice, though we'd probably see both reactions to a degree and thus endless discourse about its effectiveness as a term.

but that's ultimately overshadowed by the Bigger Picture (though, more accurately I could say that it also Informs that bigger picture).

and that's Unity. Cohesion. Communication. Community.

the point of creating terms like this is, of course, in part to give minority groups the vocabulary and perspective necessary to convey their experiences to people outside of said group. and this purpose is endlessly important of course.

but More than that it gives a Community the ability to open a conversation with each other, to take their experiences as Individuals and create a melting pot where they can get a bigger picture of what We As A Group, As A Community, Experience.

this is completely invaluable in every way. it's what allows people to find each other, to know they aren't alone. it allows people to move conversations forward, to unravel complex ideas in a way that Can Acknowledge a vast array of often conflicting and yet Connected experiences. to be able to Build a community together, when lacking a physical space to inhabit, we need Words to connect us. both in passing as neighbors and to Find as Strangers.

when you take a community that already has established terms and you try to popularize an alternative, Especially while encouraging people to Stop using the previous terms, you Split Up that line of communication. people who congregate around one term Won't be in conversation with people who congregate around another, which inhibits the community's ability to grow and deepen.

people who Dislike a term (because it's trying to take something away from them, because they've been told that it's morally reprehensible) Won't engage with it, so posts that are tagged with Only that term will not be found. and even If that term is (unrealistically) universally adopted over time There Will Be A Period where people are simply ignorant of it.

and this is Very Much So used as a weapon by people who Don't want these communities to unify. who Don't want them to talk to each other and Get Ideas. and the smaller, more tentative, less supported a group and term is the more Vulnerable they are to this tactic.

this was and Is used Regularly by exclusionists, though I'm most familiar with how it was used by ace and aro exclusionists Specifically.

they would argue Endlessly about how Anything the ace and aro groups coined for themselves was Bigoted Actually. "aphobe" was attacked by Insisting that it was a term used by autistic people to describe their oppression (a lie, and a ridiculous one at that. there's nothing bigoted about the same term being used for multiple purposes). and "Allo" faced An Endless Barrage of never Ever accepting any term, no alternative, because They Didn't Want Ace People To Be Able To Define The Group That Oppressed Them, because they didn't Believe in that oppression.

Exactly in the same way that transphobes tried to argue that "cis" was really an acronym for something bigoted and so "cis" should be abolished as a term. Exactly in the same way that people argue that "transandrophobia" is offensive Specifically Because they don't believe that trans men are oppressed for being Trans Men.

the point is that they will never accept a replacement term, no matter what. if there Isn't an issue with it (by coincidence or from a certain angle) they will lie to invent one. it's Already Happened with transadrophobia being the intended replacement for transmisandry.

because the Point is double. First to break up the intended target community to hinder conversation around an idea that you don't want to exist, to make it harder and harder for it to be found and (by extension) Understood and expanded upon. and Second to prevent communities from being able to solidify In The First Place.

this wasn't the only tactic that was used to hurt ace and aro people, but it Can't Be Denied that the affect that it had as a whole was devastating. it's been Years since this whole thing started, since it died down even, and the ace and aro communities have yet to recover.

it's Easy to fall into the trap and say "well if we just get the term Right this time then it'll be okay ! if we Fix It then they'll stop!" but it Is exactly a trap. the point of phrasing it like this, of making it about bigotry or about the term being Problematic, is Both intended to demonize the group for having the Audacity to create a term for themselves at All, And to take advantage of well meaning people within the targeted community to do the leg work for them.

it's about silencing, it's about destabilization, it's about Breaking Apart communities so they can't Grow.

"Meet me halfway," they say. you take a step forward, they take a step back. "Meet me halfway," they say.

#discourse #trans unity #transphobia #transandrophobia #transmisogyny #androphobia #transmisandry #it's been a while since I've used that tag #but it feels appropriate here #long post #Really Long Post #when I started this I didn't intend for it to be Even Longer than the post it's in response to #Engages In Toxic Masculinity By Being Incapable Of Expressing Any Concept Or Idea Without Writing A Peer Reviewed Essay #actually while we're here #can I just make fun of that anon I got a Little Bit #shout out to the Very feminist take that women don't type essays

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iniziare · 22 days ago

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An ensemble caught the rays of dim light like a flare (you could believe it intentional by the Maker, truly) to reveal it: gold quilted fabric, a shoulder laced in intricate design, a dragon embroidered in exquisite detail— ah yes, the unmistakable Tevinter flair. Subtlety, as always, was not on the itinerary. And as the length of his necklace found itself caught in tangle amidst the empty spaces of his fingers, a glance was most certainty taken note of.

The quirk of a brow certainly said more than words could ever manage, and yet, who was Dorian, of House Pavus, if not a man to outdo himself on all occasions? “Ah, yes,” his voice dripped in melodrama already. "The embroidery really does scream ‘Tevinter villain,’ doesn’t it? The dragon was entirely my idea however, so points for artistry go to yours truly." But then came the sigh, ever laced in the dramatic fatigue that was him most utterly, and at that, the tome in his book closed with a prompt gesture. “Let’s get this over with, shall we? I’m Tevinter, and you are simply appalled. But before you start crafting my inevitable villain monologue, allow me to point out, that I am quite possibly the least threatening thing in your immediate vicinity.”

The smirk that ensued was one of practiced charm, though a gleam in his eye was one of certain challenge: “Now, shall we skip to the part where you begrudgingly tolerate me, or do you need a moment?"

Starter call: Dorian // @hawkc

#[ dorian pavus. ] he says we're alike. too much pride. once i would have been overjoyed to hear him say that. now I'm not certain.#[ dorian pavus: ic. ] you find joy in it not shame. it shows. / why be ashamed? power should be respected. not swept under the carpet.#hawkc #[ this got a little longer than intended-- but he was having a little bit of fun with this one. ]#[ initially i wanted to do something veilguard-oriented but i figured that might be what all veilguard people are relegated to being... ]#[ able to do with hawke. so i was like; well. time for inquisition! pre-fade of course. i figured it'd be most interesting? ]#[ and potential for post-fade later on if you'd like to humor him some more. ;) ]#[ thank you for liking the call!! been looking forward to getting something started with you! ]#[ so i hope that this works-- don't hesitate to let me know if not! ]

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sysig · 8 months ago

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Your Weekly TV Guide

On Monday you can expect:

2:30 PM: Villainsona ft. Villainsona

And Tuesday:

2:30 PM: In Stars and Time

Wednesday:

2:30 PM: ISaT

Thursday:

2:30 PM: Sona general goings-on ft. Villainsona

Friday:

2:30 PM: ISaT

Saturday:

2:30 PM: ISaT (blood warning)

Sunday:

2:30 PM: Star Control II

Thanks for tuning in! (Patreon)

#Weekly TV Guide #What does Monday's mean? :3c You'll see #You won't guess it lol #I had fun with it tho hehe <3 #Lots of In Stars and Time this week! I got got 😔#Their designs are just so cute! I am weak #Little bits of other things too! Like the other instance of getting got lol it's fiiine #The blood warning is in greyscale but still! Keep an eye out!#Heh. Hehehe #Oh and technically Sunday's isn't done yet but I fully intend for it to be sometime this upcoming week so it's fiiiine #I got a little behind - had a not-as-good digital art day recently! :0 #Still finished one of my behind-the-scenes yay <3 Just took a bit longer than I planned for lol #Which means I'm free and clear to work on some of my others now!#They're not time sensitive tho so my brain...#Well I'll figure it out somehow lol ♪#There are some that I'm really itching about so hopefully the others will get swept up with it haha

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ro-is-struggling · 9 months ago

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Earn It || Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: While Spencer was away on a case, you had no better idea than to send him spicy pictures of yourself as a way to encourage him to work harder to get home fast. You ignored his warnings and orders to stop and now that he was back home it was time to face the consequences of acting like a spoiled brat.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, porn without plot, established relationship, dom!spencer, sexting, masturbation, bondage, dirty talk, cum eating, deprivation of touch used as punishment (if that makes sense? idk it's just porn)

English is not my first language

Word count: 3300

Notes: idk what this is, I have had this idea in my mind for a while now and I only wrote it because someone left me a nice message praising my spencer smut, so enjoy, I guess

Do you want to get notified when I post? JOIN MY TAG LIST HERE!

You were buzzing with anticipation, counting down the minutes until Spencer got home. You knew you'd be in trouble —it was clear from the short messages he'd sent you—, but that was part of the fun. You had crossed the line this time. The messages you had sent him while he was stuck at work could only be described as torture. But you couldn't be held accountable for your actions, at least not completely. You missed him-his touch, his lips on yours, the sound of his voice calling your name-and you wanted to make sure he knew it.

Spencer had been away from home for too long, working a few states over to catch a killer who targeted young, blonde women. It was apparently a tough case so for the last few weeks you had to settle for talking to him on the phone late at night. Hearing his voice before bedtime was nice, comforting, but over time it stopped being enough. You missed having him by your side at night, feeling his warmth and the touch of his fingers on your skin. You missed his kisses, his soft lips caressing your body while you whispered his name into the darkness of the night....

It was clear that phone calls were no longer enough to satiate your need for him, so in a moment of impulsive arousal you decided to give him a little incentive to work harder to come home to you. You were simply showing him what he was missing.

The first picture you sent him was simple and tasteful, a conscious choice intended to lure him into your trap. It only showed the lower half of your face, your lips drawn into a sad pout. It also showed part of your chest which was covered by one of Spencer's shirts. It had the first few buttons undone, showing your collarbone and the mound of your breasts, but nothing more. You sent it with a simple 'I miss you', hoping he had his phone nearby to see it.

His reply came not long after, and you almost felt bad for what you were about to do when you read his innocent and oblivious 'I miss you too :(‘. You replied with another photo, this time much more revealing. The shirt was unbuttoned now, revealing the cute red lace bra that hugged your breasts. It was Spencer's favorite and you knew it was going to have the desired effect on him. 'I wish you were here...' you wrote before you sent it. And without waiting for a reply you sent him another picture, this time showing the full lingerie being, posing in a provocative way. Without hesitation you wrote 'to rip it off my body' and pressed send.

You knew your little plan had worked because Spencer didn't answer for quite a while. He had seen the messages, but he was probably too stunned and busy to reply to you. When he finally did, it was a warning. 'Behave.' was all he wrote back, but you ignored it. In the next picture you sent him you had removed your bra, your hard nipples framed perfectly in the picture. Two of your fingers were lost between your lips, the red lipstick slightly smudged at the corners. 'I wish they were your fingers' you typed and Spencer's reply was another warning. 'But I guess mine will have to do for now' you ignored him once again, sending him a video of you burying those same fingers inside you as you moaned his name.

Your provocative messages didn't stop until you came, but even though you knew Spencer had seen them, he didn't reply. Nor did he call you that night like he had been doing every day. He was silent for two whole days. Two long days in which you kept wondering if maybe you had taken things too far. It was torture waiting for some kind of sign from him that would bring you some relief, but when you read the message he sent you knew that had been his intention all along.

'I'm on my way home. I want you in bed wearing the red set by the time I get there.' was all he wrote and you knew he was angry. Spencer was going to make you pay for behaving so badly and you couldn't help but wonder what method he would use to teach you a lesson. Punishments were always creative with him. Spencer wasn't very keen on violence during intimacy, it reminded him too much of his job, you supposed. He was rough in bed when he was in the mood for it and never objected to giving you a spanking or two when you deserved it, but he didn't enjoy making you cry in pain or leaving severe marks on your skin.

Spencer was more of a soft, pleasure dom, which meant that most of the time he was more intense than aggressive. He loved the irony of using pleasure to create pain, often overstimulating you to the point that your body would scream for him to stop. His domination over you was more subtle, more psychological, so his punishments always had a hint of irony in them. The worst one —and at the same time, the best one– had been once you had come without his permission. His way of teaching you a lesson that time was forcing you to cum over and over again, attacking your abused pussy with his fingers, his tongue and a vibrator without giving you hardly any time to recover between orgasms.

You wondered if Spencer had something similar in mind, the very idea frightening and exciting you at the same time. Your clit throbbed between your legs, your panties ruined with your arousal before Spencer even got to lay a finger on you. That was the effect he had on you. All he had to do was send you a stupid message and your whole body would begin to tingle with anticipation, waiting for his command.

When you heard the sound of the apartment door opening you almost jumped out of bed with joy. There was nothing you wanted more than to run into your boyfriend's arms and shower him with kisses as you told him how much you had missed him. But you knew you couldn't —or, rather, shouldn't— do that. Spencer wanted you in bed, wearing his favorite lingerie, and that's exactly what you did. Even though it was a little late to play nice now, you didn't want to give him any more reason to prolong your punishment —whatever it was. So you settled on the bed, putting yourself in a suggestive pose and waited patiently for Spencer to enter the room.

He took his time and you knew he was doing it on purpose. Your punishment had begun the moment you decided to ignore his warnings and now you had no choice but to accept it. Listening to his footsteps walking around the apartment, knowing that he was only a couple of feet away without being able to do anything about it was a real torture, but you deserved it.

"I'm disappointed in you," was the first thing Spencer said when he finally entered the room. He had that hard look in his eyes that he always gave you when you disobeyed him - the one that told you it was in your best interests to listen to him. His pupils were widened, the beautiful hazel color almost completely taken over by the darkness of desire in his eyes. You shifted nervously on the bed, suddenly feeling small under his intense gaze. Spencer walked toward you and you felt like an animal trapped by the predator that wanted to eat it. There was nowhere to run.

"You've been a very bad girl," he clicked his tongue in disapproval, bringing his hands to his neck to loosen the knot of his tie. "Teasing me with those pictures while I was at work, ignoring my warnings, cuming without my permission." Spencer shook his head and you sunk your teeth into your lower lip. The tone in his voice —too calm for someone in his position— almost made you regret your little stunt. Almost. "If you want to act like a spoiled brat, I'll treat you like one."

Spencer ordered you to sit on the bed with your back against the headboard. You obeyed without question, knowing that this was not the best time to complain. You watched him remove his tie in one tug, twisting the soft fabric in his hands before approaching you. He was careful in tying your wrists to the headboard, his fingers barely grazing your skin as he made sure to limit your movements, leaving you completely at his mercy. It was torture to feel him so close and not be able to touch him. Not to mention how incredibly frustrating it was that his hands barely rested on you when it was strictly necessary, as if your skin was burning him. You hated it, but when you let out a whine of protest, Spencer gave you a look that let you know it was best to keep your mouth shut.

"You're going to stay there and keep your eyes on me at all times." He stated with a calmness in his voice that should have alarmed you. But instead of wondering what he was up to —and what that calm meant to you— your mind was distracted by the slow movement of his hands as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing himself to you. " Now you'll know how I felt when I saw your pictures and those videos of you pleasuring yourself while I was stuck at work, unable to do anything about it."

Spencer moved closer to you, leaning down to be at eye level with you. The air caught in your throat as you stared at him, fearing that your mere breath might somehow cause him to pull away from you again. His gaze was firm, intimidating, but hidden among all the desire and lust you could still make out a glimmer of the characteristic softness in his eyes. It was an interesting contrast, captivating. It reminded you that no matter how rough he might be at the moment, the sweet, loving, everyday Spencer was just a word away.

You could hardly believe he was touching you when he took your face in one of his hands. His warm, slender fingers pressed over your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout. He used his grip to tilt your head up to make sure your eyes never left his at any time. He had you trapped between his hand and his eyes, frozen still as you anxiously awaited his next words.

"Now you'll be the helpless one. You'll be the one that has to sit back and watch as I pleasure myself, tied to the bed, unable to do anything to relieve the pressure between your legs."

After removing the last of his clothes, Spencer settled himself on the opposite side of the bed. He made sure you had the best view of him and his hard cock before he began to pleasure himself. Your eyes followed the movement of his hand as if you were being hypnotized. Up and down, up and down, his hand moved along his shaft while his mouth let out the sweetest moans you had ever heard. Every little gasp he let out went straight to your center, that throbbed desperate for attention. Spencer sounded desperate and you wondered if he hadn't relieved himself since you had sent him those pictures.

You fought your bonds without even realizing it, your body responding in its own accords to Spencer's stimulation. He didn't scold you for it, on the contrary he seemed to enjoy it. He increased the pace of his hand slightly, his eyes never leaving your figure. The way they roamed over your body —slowly moving down from your face to your neck, stopping at the curve of your breasts before trailing their way down your abdomen and to your legs— almost felt like his caresses. If you concentrated hard enough you could feel the ghost of his fingers following the path of his eyes. But it wasn't enough, not when you were trapped listening to Spencer's moans, watching his hand move up and down his cock as his tip leaked precum. Your mouth watered at the sight, yearning to feel the weight of his cock against your tongue. You could almost taste the salty treat on your tongue, your brain recreating it as best it could. It was criminal that he wouldn't let you touch him when he was so close to you.

"Like what you see?" Spencer mocked you as a pathetic whimper managed to escape your lips. "It's such a shame you were so bad 'cause right now you could be the one touching me... And I could be pleasuring you."

"Yes, please! I'm sorry, I won't do it again. Just please, I need it." you begged, momentarily excited by the mention of him pleasuring you. You were willing to do anything to end this torture.

But Spencer wouldn't budge. "Oh, I know you do, baby. I can see the wet spot in your panties from here. But I can't give it to you. Only good, obedient girls get what they want and you have been very, very bad."

He enjoyed every second of your torture, delighting in the whimpers you let out and the way you struggled against your bonds. Your body squirmed deliciously on the bed, protesting against the lack of attention. Spencer responded to your whimpers with moans, being more vocal than usual to prolong your torture. Every sound he let out increased the fire in your stomach along with your frustration. Your pussy tightened around nothing, desperate for attention. The pressure in your tummy was too much, almost unbearable. You needed relief, whatever would help you take the edge off.

You didn't even realize you were squeezing your legs together until it was too late. You were desperate and while the little friction your thighs provided as you squirmed was not enough, it was better than nothing. Your clit pulsed with every little movement, your juices trickling down your legs and making your job easier. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate on the subtle tingling between your legs to see if you could increase the pleasure that way somehow. The moan that fell from your lips was pathetic, a mixture of pleasure and frustration that alerted Spencer to your little trick just as you were getting somewhere.

You snapped your eyes open as you felt the impact of his hand against your calf. Spencer gave you a stern look, his expression blank as he forced your legs apart again. "You do that again and I won't let you cum tonight, am I clear?"

"Yes, sir!" you whimpered, feeling your hope renewing at the promise of a future orgasm. "I'm sorry! I'll be good, I promise."

It was real torture to have Spencer so close, naked and stroking his cock inches away without being able to touch it. His moans were getting louder and louder, his words dirtier and more condescending —praising your expression of desperation and mocking the way you twisted against your bonds. Your desperation increased along with the speed of his hands, which worked increasingly faster to bring him to the edge of pleasure. He was close, you could feel it, and as pathetic as it sounded, so were you. Your underwear was ruined, soaked with the juices of your arousal. Spencer hadn't touched you, but you were sure that a simple brush against your clit was all you needed to reach your climax.

"Was it worth it, baby?" He managed to say between gasps. "Was it worth it to disobey me? Sending all those pictures just to end up like this, tied to the bed, forced to watch me pleasure myself while you get nothing."

Oh Spencer was enjoying torturing you way too much. He wanted to break you, push you to your very limit and hear you beg for his forgiveness. He wanted you to earn your relief just as you had earned your punishment and he wasn't going to stop until you begged for mercy. In another circumstance you might have put up more of a fight, after all, it was always fun to riled him up. But you were far too desperate to feel his touch to play hard to get. You needed him, you'd been apart too long and you couldn't stand the distance a second longer.

"No, it wasn't! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it. I should have listened to you. I won't do it again, I promise! I'll behave! Just, please... please." There was no way to hide the pathetic tone in your voice. You were so frustrated, so needy for attention, that you could almost feel the tears burning in your eyes. You were willing to cry if that's what it took to earn Spencer's forgiveness. You would do anything to feel his hands on you.

"Oh yeah? You'll behave?" He spoke as if he didn't believe you, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he increased the pace of his hand. "Will you stop acting like a spoiled brat and be my good, obedient little girl?"

"Yes! I'll be your good girl, I promise! I'll be so good for you, sir! Please."

Suddenly, Spencer stood up from his place on the bed, approaching you in a couple of steps. "Open up then." He commanded bringing the head of his dripping, reddened cock close to your lips. You didn't need him to tell you twice, tilting your face up as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, eagerly waiting to taste him.

"That's it, that's a good girl... swallow it, swallow all of me... good girl." Spencer moaned as he came in your mouth, his hand stroking himself until he shot the very last drop of cum on your tongue. The squeal of bliss you let out at the taste of his salty flavor was pathetic, but you were too far gone to care. You eagerly swallowed everything he gave you, devouring it as if it were the sweetest candy.

Spencer mumbled sweet praises as he came down from his high, caressing your head with his usual softness. It was a small action, but you missed his touch so much that it was enough to fill you with joy. You thought you were finally in the clear, that you had received your punishment so well that Spencer would show you mercy and finally let you touch him. But when he sat down across from you again and looked into your eyes, you noticed that the intimidating darkness was still present in them. You struggled against your bonds once more to see if he would take pity on you and untie you. But he answered you with a click of his tongue that stopped you immediately.

"You did such a good job for me, baby." Spencer's voice was barely a husky whisper. He brought one of his fingers up to your cheek, collecting the drops of his cum that hadn't made it into your mouth. You tried to lean into his touch, but he removed his hand quickly, bringing his finger to your lips. He didn't have to tell you what to do, you automatically opened your mouth and wrapped your tongue around his finger, tasting his relief.

"But your punishment isn't over yet. You earned your relief, but haven't earned my forgiveness yet. You still don't get to touch me. Now open those pretty legs for me. I'll give you what you want and we'll see how much you can take."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

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emchante · 1 month ago

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softcore siren | m. verstappen

warnings: 18+/ suggestive — minors dni.

softcore porn streamer max has been in my mind all day for some reason, so i wanted to get this little thing out for me + @thef1diary seeing as she was so onboard with it too. definitely want to delve into this more!! drop into my inbox and hit me with your thoughts on this! <3

softcore porn streamer! max verstappen is a man you accidentally stumble across one day when scrolling through the ‘just chatting’ category. the thumbnail for the stream is a still image of max in a shirt that fits his chest snuggly, strong arms bulging slightly as he has his arms crossed at his front.

he’s an attractive man— you can’t deny that— so you decide fuck it, and click onto the stream.

as soon as the stream and chat loads, you’re hit with a mix of of thirsting messages in the side bar, and max’s low, accented voice as he spoke to everyone. he isn’t talking about anything specific, just chatting away and answering any questions he can see in the flurry of horny messages.

suddenly he lets out a warm laugh, and it’s unexpectedly charming. “alright, alright,” he rolls his eyes playfully, “i see your messages. i see what you’re here for, calm down. we’ll get to it,” he winks, leaning right to the camera momentarily as he shifts himself upwards to sit in a more comfortable position. the eye contact through the screen causes a breath to catch in your throat.

as max sits back he stretches right up, allowing his shirt to ride up and give the viewers a sliver of stomach. you couldn’t deny your eyes scanned the area the full time it was on screen, silently begging it to go even further. then, max moved his hands behind his head, allowing his arms to flex with his muscles bulging through the-short sleeved shirt. his softer chest area became more defined as the shirt tugged against it, until he allowed his arms to fall to his side.

he topped it all off with what could only be described as a soft moan, his eyes fluttered shut and his freckled lip curving into a smile.

your eyes drifted to his chat once more, watching the flood of messages be sent in as max teased his body, adding a moan at the end of his little show. some people were begging him to flex his arms again, for him to go shirtless, whereas others took a more meme-like approach. ‘do you need a bra for them?’, for example.

you wanted to join in on the fun, so you did. you didn’t say anything extreme, more-so joining the thirsty comments but keeping your own tame. a simple ‘god, you’re so fine?’, allowing it to get buried within the pile.

but it didn’t.

your eyes widened as your chat was highlighted with ‘first time chatter’, and fuck— since when was that a thing?

max seems to catch sight, raising a brow as he catches your comment and the fact you’re new. “oh? we have a new chatter, guys. welcome in,” he smiles, looking to the camera and winking. “appreciate the compliment.”

your breath caught in your throat at him reacting to your message and greeting you, that you didn’t even catch the amount of welcomes you got from his regulars. there were even a few ‘she’s so lucky??’ from others.

max grins before leaning back in his chair, his crossed arms resting over his front again. this time though he was pushed back a little more, allowing him to lift his foot onto his chair as he perched into a position where his thighs were in shot. and shit— you were not expecting that.

his grin only widened as the chat had another outburst about him, commenting about his thighs and what they wanted to do to them. though he was reading them, he had ignored them and went back to what the previous topic. “aww, no other message from newbie?” he fake pouted, before peering right into the camera lens once more. “don’t worry though, everyone starts out shy, confused. you’ll figure out soon enough why you’re here.”

and the thing is— he’s right. you do find out why you’re here.

you stay on the stream much longer than you had intended to, watxhing as he balances humour, flirtation, and just the right amount of teasing and mischief. you realise his fans aren’t just obsessed with his looks— they’re drawn to the way he makes everyone feel seen, chats to them like he would any other person.

by the end of the stream, you’re still not entirely sure how you got sucked into max verstappen— the softcore porn streamer on twitch’s front page. but as you close the tab for the night, your cheeks are hot and there’s a lingering smile on your face.

one things for certain: this wouldn’t be the last time.

⋆˙⟡ enjoy this? i hope you did! please come chat to me about it in my ask box! publicly or on anon— i’ll answer everything <3

#em’s fics #em’s filth #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen smut #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen drabble #softcore p streamer! max

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cherrychilli · 8 months ago

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18+ Perv! Steve Harrington x Perv! reader, F reader, friends to lovers, scent kink, reader being a bit of a creep but Steve's into it because duh, masturbation (f) sexual acts in public, mentions of and allusions to oral sex (f)

WC: 5K

A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but fuck it. Two for one special. Still feeling rusty when it comes to writing so go easy on me, yeah? Also, this one's kind of gross at times. Just a little bit. Nothing extreme but just letting you know incase you're someone who gets squeamish easily. Enjoy!

The hair? sure. Everyone liked his hair.

People usually fell into two camps when it came to Steve Harrington's signature do; either they envied it or they hoped to be one of the lucky ones who got to run their fingers through it.

You used to daydream about the latter when you only knew him from afar but now that he no longer ran with a particular kind of crowd, now that he's just Steve and no longer the King, you managed to get close enough to find out that he smelled nice too.

Really nice.

So, figuring out that he used women's shampoo shouldn't have been the revelation that it was because it made so much sense, his tresses never scented with a wintry pine or spicy cedarwood like most scent profiles marketed to men.

You had your friends to thank for your stumbling upon that discovery, the group of them arriving at your home to bully you out of your PJ's and into a pair of jeans and shoes, uprooting you from your room on a Saturday afternoon for an outing to the fancy part of the mall.

While they searched for new make-up, you wandered a section of the store by yourself, uncapping the pretty bottles in the hair care aisle whenever the sales assistants' attention wandered elsewhere, squeezing each one carefully to sample the array of scents. You did this idly and with no real plans to purchase anything, just something to pass the time while your friends crowded another display a few aisles away, chattering blissfully and swatching lipsticks.

Picking up a fifth shampoo from the lineup of bottles, you brought the uncapped rim up to your face, lightly skimming your cupids bow with it as you gently inhaled. While fun, you'd spent most of your time at the mall feeling a little bored, a small part of you still desiring to go back home where you could lounge and laze in peace. That was until you began to recognize the scent of the newest shampoo you had clutched in your hand, the familiarity of it triggering a whirlpool of memories.

In seconds, your mind plunged back to the night of Jack Sullivan's graduation party. The first time Steve Harrington had spoken to you – really spoken to you since he’d parted ways with Carol and Tommy, seeming much more approachable than he had in the past.

The two of you had ended up sharing the patio swing outside where the air wasn't as thick with smoke and the smell of spilled booze. Making conversation, he offered you a beer he'd originally intended to give Robin before she'd slipped away into one of the guest bathrooms with your best friend Sally. You both knew why, sharing a look of understanding but never mentioning the obvious out loud out of loyalty to your friends.

Then there was the only day it rained in July, remembering the way your fingers brushed against his as you handed him your umbrella. You'd discovered him taking refuge under the awning of the diner you worked at that morning, face twisted all worrisome as he looked up from his wristwatch to the downpour in front of him, forced into walking to work that day due to his car still being in the shop. The only light that shone that day was the gleaming smile he gave you when he thanked you for your kindness.

And then there was the time when you had your head down while scanning a tape at Family Video, bumping face first into Steve's chest when you rounded the corner, his name tag catching on your bottom lip. It was the tiniest sliver of a cut, barely noticeable or painful but oh, how he fussed over you like you were made of porcelain. He’d gone so far as to sit you down on his chair behind the counter as if you might collapse from blood loss at any moment, whizzing into the break room and back with a fist full of napkins to dab the miniscule wound that had already stopped bleeding.

All of those memories and more linked by one scent. This scent.

With your pupils dilating like a cat prepared to pounce, you flipped the bottle over to read the contents.

White frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, bergamot waters, sea salt breeze and sunkissed musk.

Steve Harrington in a bottle. And the quickest 16 dollars you've ever spent.

And with that purchase came the self-imposed reminder to exercise caution. Upon leaving the mall with your friends, your mood much chipper than when you'd arrived, you made sure to hardly ever use the shampoo when you bathed, afraid that if Steve smelled it on you later, somehow, he'd be able to put the pieces together and know why you'd bought it, even as wildly unlikely as that seemed.

So instead, you huffed the bottle in private on most days, only using it when you knew you'd be spending the day at home. On those eagerly awaited days you luxuriated in the scent as you applied the shampoo in your shower, mind and fingers wandering, working your peaked nipples and your firm clit up to the thought of Steve joining you in your shower and fucking you dumb – tits pressed up against the cold, wet tiles, ass bouncing on his hips as he stretched you open and used you well.

But now that you'd discovered this new kind of hunger you had to make sure to keep it well fed and when the shampoo didn't feel like enough anymore, you set out to purchase his cologne.

The scent was one you had memorized from all of your trips to the video store, hanging around the counter while Steve talked to you about which movie you ought to rent next. You could smell it on his neck whenever he leaned in close on his elbows, face inches away from yours, wishing he'd close the distance and meet your lips with his.

Another trip to the mall had you scouring the men's section like a wolf tracking the scent of injured prey, sampling bottle after bottle of cologne until you found it.

Aromatic sage, dark tonka bean and rich sandalwood. Priced at a cool $39.50 which you gladly forked over because to you, it was all money well spent.

The cologne became part of your nightly routine after that, dabbing drops of the heady scent on your body when you went to bed, the smell making your arousal climb before lulling you to sleep an orgasm later, evoking dreams of Steve throughout the night that made you wake up to your panties all damp and sticking to your core by morning.

You were content that way, the shampoo and the cologne enough to satiate your fixation on the way Steve smelled all while managing to maintain your friendship with him without things becoming weird.

What ended up shattering that peace however was running into him a few weeks later coming out of the Y, just done with a game of basketball as he spotted you passing by and happily waved you down.

He smiled at you just as brightly as he had all those months ago in July, this time dressed in his gym clothes; a pair of green shorts that showed off the thickness of his toned, hairy thighs and a grey t-shirt, the sleeves filled out well by his tanned biceps and its collar darkened by sweat.

Up close, you could smell the exertion on him and that was what became your undoing.

It took every iota of self-control not to rush him to the ground and pin him beneath you, feeling more and more like a caged animal the longer the conversation went on and you were forced to compose yourself.

It was the kind of scent you wanted to sink into, more so than the cologne or the shampoo because this was Steve completely unadulterated – that earthy musk, that rugged, almost spicy all-natural scent that you wouldn't be able to find on any shelf.

Barely managing to hold it together until parting ways with him, you knew you wouldn't be able to rest without it, mind already working to devise a plan.

"Risve- what?"

You chuckled as the word died on Steve's tongue, knowing he'd trip up on the pronunciation. Reaching for a pen and a scrap of paper sitting on the counter, you wrote the word down for him. "Risvegli. It's Italian", you explain, handing it to him as you do your best to repress the shiver that runs through you when his slender fingers graze yours, trying hard to quieten your mind after all the ways you’ve imagined those very fingers touching you in your most sensitive places.

"It's kind of an obscure flick but I like that sort of stuff. D'you think you could have a look and see if you've got a copy in the back?", you try not to bat your lashes too much when you ask, not wanting to overplay the sweetness to the point that it comes off as insincere or worse, suspicious.

Steve looks down to study the paper, cheeks dusted a pretty pink, you can’t help but notice. The ends of his hair are still damp from his shower at the Y, just as you expected now that you knew which days he spent there before clocking in for work.

"For you? Definitely", he looked back up and smiled at you in that way that made your heart somersault. "Be right back". He leaves you alone at the counter and you make sure to wait for him to disappear out of sight into the back, stamping down a flash of guilt for having sent him off to search for a movie that didn't exist to buy you time.

You'd planned it all last night, stepping away from the counter before heading towards the employee break room, able to sneak in without fear of running into Robin because you knew she'd be spending the day with Sally on her day off from working at the diner.

Steve’s duffle bag is in plain view as you shut the door to the little room behind you quietly, resting on a chair that'd been pulled out from the table where you imagined he probably shared his lunch breaks with Robin.

Striding up to it, you find the zipper and tentatively, you pull it open to reveal the contents. What you're looking for is balled up at the very top, picking up the sweat damp t-shirt with clammy, trembling fingers. You're really crossing a line this time and you know it, your teeth close to piercing the soft skin of your bottom lip as you bite down on it but you can't deny that there's just something so exhilarating about the whole thing too. The lying, the sneaking around, the risk – it's all a little too much and your mind grows foggy with it, dulling your once sharp intuition and giving way to a moment of weakness that has you abandoning caution now that you're alone.

Waiting to do indulge your urges until you're safe at home feels impossible now that you've got your hands on it, eagerly pressing your nose into the damp t-shirt, eyes nearly rolling back as you filled your lungs with the smell of him. It must have been the pheromones, it had to be, awakening that primal kind of desire in you that had you parting your lips and pressing the tip of your tongue to one of the sweat stains, sucking on the sour, salty musk that had soaked into the cotton.

What you're doing is so dirty, damn near repulsive and knowing that just fuels you even more as you begin to salivate. You're too wrapped up in the earthy scent of him, too lost in the taste to notice when the door handle jiggles behind you, too drunk on the sick thought of what Steve’s used boxers must smell like if you were to pull those out of his duffle next when all of a sudden, it's too late.

The door to the break room swings open and in walks Steve, the world screeching to a sickening standstill when his eyes fall on you.

Your own eyes bulging, you watch in mute horror as he takes in the sight before him, the scrap of paper you'd handed him earlier slipping from between his thumb and forefinger, fluttering to the floor like the wings of a dying butterfly.

It's impossible to know what he's thinking. Is it disgust? if so, he hid it well. Bewilderment? You weren't sure. Ice crackles over your bones as the two of you stare for a few seconds longer, Steve's expression still unreadable.

The whole thing's all the more uncomfortable because of the way he continues to watch you like you’re something to be studied, looking contemplative as you trembled in place, wishing for the ground to break open beneath your feet and swallow you away into a never-ending crevasse.

But as the seconds tick by and the ground stays perfectly intact you're left to seek your own respite.

Despite what feels like the blood retreating from your veins, your body shifts into auto pilot as you wordlessly place the rumpled t-shirt back in Steve's duffel and do the only thing you can do in a fucked up situation like this – walk away. Even as he tries to call after you, you ignore his shouts, continuing on a path towards and out the exit, mortified.

You don't go back to Family Video after that. In fact, you avoid that entire street for a whole week.

The days following being caught out by Steve were some of the worst you've had to endure. Shame made a home in your body, making you ache with a belly full of thorns and your thoughts growing increasingly heavy and abrasive as they flood your throbbing head.

For those seven days you carried around the dread of knowing that Steve had discovered that secret side of you, the feeling worsening at the thought of him telling others what he had seen and rendering you some kind of town pariah – even though a tiny, hopeful whisper inside your raucous head told you that he probably hadn't said anything, at least not yet since Sally hadn't even seemed to have gotten word of the incident from Robin.

But that's all it was. A tiny, fleeting whisper that did nothing to calm you.

At home, you buried yourself in your blankets, letting your anxieties exhaust you to sleep and at work you moved as if you were fighting your way through thick slurry – slow and dragging your body from table to table, unsmiling as you took patrons' meal orders and served them their food.

You continued like that all throughout your shift, waiting for the moment you could peel your polyester uniform off in favour of your own clothes and drive yourself home. With only 30 minutes left before closing, your shoulders which had been pulled tight all day with tension began to sag, a momentary wash of relief coursing through you. That was until you smelled it – smelled him.

Whipping around, your stomach plummets when your eyes fall on Steve walking through the door – and to make things worse, he’s carrying that duffle on his shoulder.

He's yet to have spotted you, taking a seat at one of the empty booths though you notice the way his eyes are scanning the diner, searching.

It's obvious that you’re the one he’s looking for as worry courses down your spine like a lightning strike. Was he going to confront you? right here? in front of all these people? Normally you wouldn’t peg Steve as someone who’d do something so cruel but after what he’d caught you doing, a little public humiliation doesn’t seem all that undeserved, you had to admit.

So, carefully you retreat into the breakroom without drawing his attention, pulling a perplexed Sally along with you once you'd caught hold of her by her elbow.

Once safely inside, you all but blubber in her face, begging her to wait on Steve's table, even promising her all your tips for the next week in exchange.

Seeing the distress contorting your face must have made her feel sorry for you because she pulls you in for a quick, tight hug, running her hand up and down your back in an attempt to calm you. You'd only given her little snippets of what had happened at the video store, making sure to alter a few details for the sake of concealing how far you’d actually gone that day. To her, the gist of it was that you'd embarrassed yourself horribly and that was all she really needed to know, springing into action as the compassionate best friend to the rescue.

"I've got it, okay? just breathe", she'd repeated soothingly into your hair, giving you a quick squeeze and her best reassuring smile before you reluctantly unwind your hands from around her, allowing her to step out of the break room ahead of you.

Outside again, thirty minutes drag on like hours while you purposely stick to the part of the diner that's furthest away from Steve's table. You don't dare look at him but you do sneak a glance when Sally walks by with his order, a single black coffee and nothing else which he sips leisurely while you tremble.

If his plan was to confront you then what the hell was he waiting for? There was nothing stopping him from walking up to you while sweat collects between your shoulder blades as you clear the tables of customers who’ve settled their bill and since left. Nothing to prevent him from stepping up to the counter while you nervously rubbed the surface of it free of crumbs and stains to demand an explanation for your bizarre behavior last week. Nothing to stop him from simply walking up to you at any moment and ask to know what the fuck your deal was.

But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he finishes his coffee and casually waves down Sally for the bill while smiling politely. Somehow that causes you even more unease.

In that moment you lose sight of Steve when you’re called over to serve the only other table of customers left, a family of five keen to fit in one last round of milkshakes before they call an end to their meal.

You see to their order despite your shaking limbs, returning with a tray crowded with the cold, sweet drinks, setting each one down carefully in front of the smiling children and their parents before you head back behind the counter with your tray clutched close to your chest. The whole thing must have taken you ten minutes and when you sneak one more look in Steve’s direction you find his booth empty this time.

Eyes frantically searching the diner, you manage to catch a final glimpse of him walking out the front door, bell chiming above him as he departs, leaving the diner and you with even more questions than you had when he'd first arrived.

Had Steve changed his mind? Had he just wanted to make you sweat for the hell of it? Taken pleasure in watching you try to keep it together in his presence while you traipsed around the diner all too carefully like a petrified newborn deer?

Why had he shown up at all today if he wasn’t going to...do anything?

You get your answer fifteen minutes later when wearily, you trudge into the staff room at the end of your shift, pulling open your locker and all but fainting at the sight of what’s been placed inside beside your belongings.

Neatly folded inside is Steve's grey t-shirt, the same one you'd tried unsuccessfully to "borrow" last week The scent of him is instantly recognizable as you inhale shakily, fingers reaching out to touch the slightly damp cotton to confirm to yourself that you weren’t in fact hallucinating the whole thing.

When your pulse starts to settle and the static crackling in your ears starts to cease you notice a little scrap of folded paper placed inside too. Picking it up and pulling it open, it's with a deep, dreamy sigh that your chest blooms with sunny warmth as you read the note, a smile gracing your lips for the first time in a week.

Three months later...

The only good thing about working the graveyard shift at the diner was that Steve always insisted on coming in an hour before you clocked out so he could drive you home.

Occupying one of the booths inside the sleepy diner, he'd keep himself busy with his phone while you worked, perking up whenever you came by to freshen up his coffee or sneak him a piece of pie he hadn't ordered with all his favorite fixings.

It was during those moments that he liked to have a little fun with you, quickly surveying the room to make sure no customers or staff were looking over in your direction before he'd slip his fingers under your skirt and pinch your ass. Sometimes you'd see it coming and other times he'd catch you off guard, cruel delight curling his lips into a smirk whenever you had to stifle your surprised squeals.

And that's as far as he usually took, patiently waiting until he could get you in his car for more but today felt different.

With no new customers coming in in the last two hours, Sally had taken to the break room to work in a nap while the kitchen staff had stepped out back to smoke and deal cards to pass the time. That left just you working the front with Steve as the diner's only patron.

Having no one else around meant you could flirt freely with him now, making sure to look over your shoulder every now and then just incase to make sure you didn't get caught.

You spent that time alone together with his boot gently tapping against your shoe under the table, reaching out and fiddling with his fingers because you always liked to be touching him while you happily teased each other as the minutes passed by.

Somewhere in the middle of your playful banter you noticed Steve's cup was now empty, picking yourself up from the booth to bring over more coffee. As you leaned over the edge of the table to pour, you anticipated the glide of his fingers on your thigh, inching up your skirt to situate them between your legs.

"You're going to get me fired one of these days", you chide him, still holding on to the pot of coffee once you'd finished refilling his cup.

"Good – then I can have you all to myself", he teased back, index finger drawing patterns on your inner thigh, just a few inches below the lacy trim of your panties.

"Steve", you attempt to scold but there's barely any heat there for him to take it seriously, fingers daring to trail higher.

Meeting his heavy gaze, you watch him search your eyes for a moment, the soft smirk that had been tugging at the corner of his lips slowly fading away as something more serious clouds his expression when he leans forward to whisper to you.

"No one's around, baby. Please? Can I?"

It takes you a second before you know exactly what he's asking for without needing him to specify, heat rising up from the depths of your chest and gathering in your cheeks.

He's got that look in his eyes too and you know that this is what it must have looked like the day he caught you with your face buried in his sweaty t-shirt. That feverish glint of potent want making his iris' gleam.

"Steve, it's too risky", you try to reason quietly despite the way your thighs are already parting for him, allowing him to skim the pads of his fingers over the seat of your panties, teasing your waiting folds through the thin later of fabric.

"Never stopped you before", he's quick to reply with wink, making you grow warmer at the reminder.

He's got you beat there.

"I promise I'll be quick", he pleads again softly and it's almost comical how quickly you buckle under the weight of his needy gaze.

"Shit, okay", you concede as you step closer to the edge of the booth and he pulls himself closer too, hand moving higher to cup your ass under your skirt.

You sigh contently when Steve leans forward and presses his nose against the front of your uniform, right over the juncture between your legs. You're careful to keep your grip tight on the handle of the coffee pot you're still carrying when he takes in a deep breath, inhaling your scent right through your clothes.

Steve liked to joke that you brought out this side of him, the one that made the both of you realize how alike you really were.

It started with the way he liked to linger between your legs after he'd finished eating you out. Your ruined panties spilled out of his back pocket, never to be returned to you as he took his time pressing sweet kisses against your swollen folds and spent clit with his sticky lips, clearly pleased with himself as you fought to catch your breath from the orgasm that'd rippled through you.

And as things progressed, he wasn't secretive about wanting to fuck you so hard and often that the smell of you would linger in the air long after you were done. Or how he liked to nestle his nose in the curls on your mound once he'd finished laving at your pussy – the moreish combination of sweat, saliva and your natural musk making his twitching cock stiffen all over again as he rut into the mattress for a second time, painting his sticky boxers with another generous load.

Other times he'd get on his knees for you, pulling you close by your hips so he could place his face against your clothed cunt and mumble dreamy praises about how good your pussy smelled. And you always loved it when he got like that, even now as your free hand strokes lazily through his caramel hair, letting him do this to you in the middle of your place of work, your coworkers unaware but not far away enough that they couldn't walk in at any moment and find the two of you like this.

"Stevie", you whined softly as you tried to get his attention, a reluctant reminder that the two of you should probably stop before it's too late.

"Jus' a little more, please? need it to tide me over before I can get you alone". His eyes are all glazed over when he looks up at you, tentatively slipping his other hand up the front of your thigh to hitch up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly, his gaze all pleading as he waits for your permission.

With the way he's managed to work you up, your panties more that a little tacky from his attention and your belly tightening with warmth, how could you possibly refuse when you needed this just as badly as he did?

"Fuck. Yes, okay – just be careful", you urge gently because 'be quick' doesn't seem likely anymore.

A look of pure bliss breaks out on his reddening face. "Christ. Thank you, baby", Steve groans appreciatively, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties before burying his face against your clothed mound. He can feel the outline of your cunt perfectly when he's this close – so soft and plump, his mounting greed has him battling the urge to pull the soaked cotton down to your knees and start sucking the tangy slick from your pretty, swollen pussy lips before pressing deeper to lick at your tight hole and all it has to offer.

Restraining himself, he lets out a muffled moan against your core that has your clit swelling and throbbing, your eyes slipping shut while you give yourself to him. It's almost soothing the way he savors you so shamelessly, head partially ducked underneath your rucked up skirt, fingers gently squeezing your ass with his blunt nails making light indents in your skin.

You let him breathe you in for a while longer until you begin to feel a little floaty and more than a little needy from it all, expecting Steve to pull away soon because how much longer could you get away with doing this in public? Stopping him isn't what you want, not really but you knew better than to push your luck by now.

But instead of him reluctantly withdrawing away from you, what you feel next is the wet drag of his tongue along your messy panties, warm, firm and sudden.

Although definitely not unwelcome, under the circumstances, the feeling of it startles you and you can't help but cry out with a yelp, arm jerking backwards as a splash of coffee makes its way onto the checkered diner floor.

Hearts hammering, the both of you rip apart from each other then, Steve with his wide eyes and ruffled hair as he plasters himself to his seat while you very nearly lose what's left of your balance when your shoes skid over the wet mess of spilled coffee. You manage to catch yourself though when you grab the edge of his table with your free hand, finally placing the damn coffee pot down to hurriedly pull your skirt back into place.

Silence overtakes the room as the both of you peer wordlessly in the direction of the kitchen and breakroom, waiting to see if you'd accidentally drawn the attention of any nearby diner staff.

Seconds turn into a minute and when no one comes through either of the doors you allow yourself to sigh out in relief, turning back to Steve.

"Shit. I'm sorry I couldn't help it – had to taste you, honey. You just – fuck, you just smell so fucking good. I needed a little more", he tries to explain when your eyes connect, his cheeks sheened with a thin layer of perspiration and flushed a deep pink.

You were foolish to think you could let him do all of that and endure waiting until the end of your shift to take things further in his car. Leaving him with his lips parted and his jaw slack, you stride away to the diner's entrance to quickly flip the 'open' sign over to read 'closed', rushing back to tug Steve up and out of his seat urgently, grinning when you catch sight of the stiff bulge straining in his jeans.

"Supply closet. Now. Need you to put that mouth of yours to good use."

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

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halfvalid · 1 year ago

Text

nobody but you

ABOUT

alternate title: the jealous character trope is actually kinda fun to write

rating: teen+

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!vinsmoke sanji | live action!straw hats ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

description: sanji flirts endlessly with you while dining at the baratie. zoro is displeased.

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, no use of 'y/n', establishment of relationship, flirting, alcohol consumption, pda

author’s note: i got like ~5 requests to write this so here you guys go! this was a popular one lmao. the story is a vague spinoff to my other fic pretty in that, but it doesn't have to be read to understand this one.

You’d volunteered to deal with the docking fees for the Going Merry, locking up the pirate ship as the rest of the crew entered Baratie. You were just five or so minutes late entering after the restaurant the rest of the Straw Hats had gone into. You’d never seen anything like it before—an eatery right in the middle of the ocean, in the shape of a giant fish.

You stepped into the building cautiously, glancing around the wide expanse of the main room to try and catch a glimpse of your friends. The restaurant was big, with a mezzanine that you’d entered in and stairs leading down to the first floor. The host, a fishman who was standing at the reservation desk, glanced up to take a look at you.

“Ah, you must be with the pirates,” he said pleasantly. “Right this way, miss.”

You nodded, wondering how Luffy was intending on paying for the bill of such a place as you scoped out the area. It was far nicer than anything you would’ve expected—but then again, he’d somehow managed to score the Going Merry from Kaya back in Syrup Village, so you figured he’d work something out.

Finally, you caught a glimpse of the rest of your crew, tucked away in a circular side booth that the fishman led you to. Luffy brightened upon seeing you, waving you over with a hand so excitedly you feared it was about to flop around like rubber. Considering his powers, that was a more than likely situation, actually.

“Thank you,” you told the host, then turned towards your friends. “No food yet?”

“You didn’t miss much,” Usopp said, a little snicker in his voice. “Just the waiter getting our drink orders. He was flirting the heck outta Nami.”

“Oh?” you asked, a smile flickering up your lips. The only open space in the table was between Zoro and Nami—you gave Zoro a confused look, and he gestured down to his swords, which were caught in the ledge between the chair and the wall. You snickered. “Ro. You’re such a loser.”

“Shut up,” Zoro muttered, hand on your waist as you climbed over him to get to the empty seat. It stayed there for a moment longer, even after you’d arranged yourself in the seat, before he finally dropped his hand. Usopp made a face that you pointedly ignored.

“What’d you guys order?” you asked instead. If there’d been a menu available, the waiter had probably taken it away; still, there wasn’t much variety in the East Blue, so you could expect there’d be a lot of seafood and not much else.

“One of everything,” Luffy responded brightly. “So we’ll be able to try the whole menu!”

“You sure that’s a good idea, Cap?” you asked, brows raised. Luffy shrugged.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Quit it with the nickname,” Zoro muttered. Neither him or Nami had gotten any more receptive to it since you’d first started calling Luffy it. Usopp didn’t seem so keen on it either—if only because he fancied himself Captain Usopp. Luffy liked it, though, and that pleased you enough to keep using it.

“I’ll get you to start saying it eventually,” you teased, nudging Zoro in the arm. He shook his head, but there was a suggestion of a smile on his lips as he glanced away. “Just you wait.” You turned to Nami, eyes sparkling. “What about the waiter, though? Was he cute?”

Usopp laughed at that, and Nami gave you a disparaging look. “Come on,” she started. “Not you too. Zoro was all—”

The sound of footsteps cut off her speech, and you glanced up to find a lean, blond man pausing by the lip of your table. He held a silver plate, upon which perched a variety of different drinks—beers, milk, water. “Here are your drinks,” he said, voice lifting with an accent you couldn’t quite place. “And appetizers.”

He had just finished placing the last of the drinks balancing on his forearm on the table when the waiter glanced up and registered you sitting there. His expression instantly changed, the crease of his mouth softening into a pleasant smile, his previously-dull blue eyes bright and sparkling. “Well, hello there. An addition?”

“Yeah, sorry I’m late,” you said. The waiter flashed a grin, white ivories shining under the fluorescents.

“Oh, absolutely no problem. They say those who are late are fashionable, and you, madam, certainly fit the bill,” the waiter said. Your eyes widened, glancing over to Nami to find her shaking her head, but the waiter didn’t stop there. “I’m Sanji. What can I get for you to drink? We’ve got a wide selection of fine wines that might suit your taste.”

“Oh, um—” you started, glancing at the rest of your crew again. Usopp was hiding his snicker, and Nami was giving you a tired look. Assumedly this had been the man who’d tried it on her, too—to unfortunate ends, probably, considering how Nami was. Not that this would be any more effective on you. Your eye was already captured by a particular green-haired swordsman, after all. “I don’t really have anything in mind.”

Sanji looked pleased about that, clasping his hands together around his platter. “Ah, let me guess, then. A bayberry or red currant wine, perhaps? Fruity, tart, full of flavor.” he winked. “A feisty drink for a feisty girl.”

“Can’t say I’ve tried it, but sure,” you said, the faintest smile on your lips. “I’ll let you know how I like it.”

Sanji grinned, looking rather satisfied with that, a delighted little smile on his lips. “One red currant wine, then. I’ll have it right out. And would you also like to order a meal, or…” He glanced over at Luffy, presumably referencing your captain’s more-than-outrageous order. “Are you all set?”

“I think we’re set, thanks,” you assured, and Sanji nodded. He flashed you another bright smile before turning on his heel back off to the kitchen.

Usopp finally let out the laughter he’d been keeping in, choked sounds emitting from his throat as he thudded his chest with a fist. You rolled your eyes, but it was good-natured, letting Usopp laugh.

“Well, at least I’m not being singled out,” Nami said with a sigh, and you exchanged a sympathetic glance with her. She patted your hand comfortingly, then scrutinized the water Sanji had gotten her. “At least he didn’t put it in a flute.”

“Zoro, you’ve got competition!” Usopp called, still laughing from the entire ordeal. You glanced to your side, to where the swordsman sat. Zoro had stiffened sometime during the conversation, jaw clenched and arms wound tightly across his chest. He hadn’t even touched the beer that Sanji had set in front of him, eyes fixed carefully to a spot beside Luffy’s head and refusing to look over at you.

“He’s a waiter,” Zoro said crisply. “He buses tables for a living.” With that, he grabbed his bottle, popping the tab and taking a swig.

“I don’t know, man, did you see the way he took down those pirates?” Usopp turned to you, all excited again. “Oh, you missed this whole thing! Two pirates were fighting over a seat or something, and Sanji just demolished both of them! You would’ve loved it.”

“He is a really good fighter,” Luffy agreed. Their words did nothing but seem to annoy Zoro further.

“Can we not talk about the restaurant personnel? Surely you can think of more interesting topics of conversation.” His tone was sharp, and all icy, and you inched your hand closer to his leg to tap his thigh in question. He glanced down at your touch, but didn’t deign to say anything else. He just picked up his beer again, nursing it while the rest of the crew continued on with their conversation.

Despite Luffy changing the subject, Zoro didn’t speak, and you kept peeking glances over at him in concern. Your feelings for him had just continued developing ever since Syrup Village, although neither of you had reasonably talked about the closet incident since it’d happened. What with the reveal of Kuro and the escape from the marines and all, there hadn’t exactly been time to. But you’d been on good terms, and the actions he made around you—pressing a hand to your waist as you moved past him, turning towards you first mid-conversation, shoving you down when the marines had fired their first cannon at the Going Merry.

Before you could whisper to him and question what his silence was about, though, Sanji reappeared, carrying two platters filled to the brim with plates. They were laden with different types of meat and vegetables, sauces glinting under the light and hot steam still billowing.

He set the dishes on the table, somehow managing to arrange them so they all fit on the countertop. Sanji set down the last plate then turned to you, placing a glass and a bottle of dark crimson wine on the table in front of you. He had to lean over Zoro to reach, and Zoro flinched, but still didn’t say anything as Sanji uncorked the bottle and poured you a glass.

“Tell me what you think,” he said, all smiles again. “I’ll be embarrassed if it isn’t to your liking.”

You picked the glass up, swirling it carefully inside the glass before leaning down into the cup to take in a full sniff. You tilted your head back to take a small sip, moving the liquid around your mouth to fully savor the flavor before finally swallowing. The wine was sweet, light rather than rich with a delicate tartness that burst on your tongue. You glanced up just to see a giant grin had stretched up Sanji’s mouth, brightening his face up considerably.

“What?” you asked.

“Not often do I see a patron who knows how to taste wine properly,” Sanji answered with a little duck of his head. “A lady of class, I see. How do you like it?”

“Not too strong. I like the tartness,” you answered. “A good recommendation. Thank you.”

Sanji gave you a little bow, hand flourishing to the side as he dipped his head. “I live to serve.”

“Yeah, well, why don’t you serve me another beer?” Zoro said abruptly. Usopp coughed, and you could see Nami elbow him out of your peripheral vision. Luffy just looked confused.

Sanji’s face fell almost immediately after Zoro had spoken, his eyes flickering away from yours. “Of course. I’ll be right back,” he said, a tight smile at his lips. He ducked out of the booth, and Zoro let out an irritated noise, tongue flicking against from the roof of his mouth.

Usopp snorted, fully this time, and you turned to glance over at him—he and Nami were both hiding their gazes, though you could see smiles cracked along their lips.

Zoro glared at them. “Shut it.”

“Not saying anything!” Usopp said, though he half-hid behind Luffy like Zoro was going to lunge over the table to get to him. That didn’t seem… entirely unlikely, actually; Zoro’s right hand rested firmly on the handle of one of his swords, fingers ready to pull the blade at any second. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, wanting to say something. But not in front of everyone else. It wouldn’t be appropriate, you decided.

Eventually your meal wound down to an end. Zoro got less and less tense throughout it, though you were fairly certain that was due to the drinks he was having rather than any actual reassurance. Sanji, thankfully, came back with the bill in the middle of a conversation you really didn’t want to think about—Luffy and his marine grandfather was not something your mind wanted to dwell on—only for him to disappear again.

Just moments later, a man with a braided mustache came storming out of the kitchen. Luffy did some more of his Luffy nonsense, and, honestly—you were getting too tired about all of this to pay any close attention. You spared a glance over at Zoro again. His face was as blank as ever.

“Okay,” Usopp said slowly, a few delayed seconds after who’d undoubtedly been the head chef yanked Luffy out of his seat. “I’m ready to check out whatever’s outside. Let’s go.”

“What about Luffy?” you asked, perplexed.

“He’ll find his way out of that,” Nami said with a sigh. She stood up, knocking back the rest of her drink. Since she wasn’t exactly wrong, you got up, glancing over your shoulder at the last of the group that remained seated. “Zoro?”

Zoro was staring into his now-empty bottle of beer. He still seemed off, the line of his mouth creased downwards, jaw set tight. “Yeah,” he said finally, standing to his full height and slipping out of the booth. He offered you a hand, helping you down from your seat, but said nothing more.

The four of you headed out to the mouth of the Baratie fish, which boasted a bar decorated with neon lights. You found a place to sit by the fish’s bottom lip, and you turned in your seat, staring out at the sea. The water was dark with the night, peaceful ripples moving across the water that sent shimmering waves across the blue.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Usopp said. “Come, Nami?”

“Huh?” Nami glanced up, and you turned to watch the exchange. “Oh, I’m okay, Usopp. Thanks, though.”

“No,” Usopp insisted, a smile still pasted on his face as he jerked his head, not very discreetly, in your and Zoro’s direction. Nami seemed to realize, then, eyes going wide before she got up from her seat.

“Actually, on second thought, I’ll join you,” she said, far smoother than Usopp had been. “God knows you don’t have any money to pay for a drink.”

She breezed past him, ignoring the offended gape Usopp left in her wake before he was scrambling to follow her. You turned your attention towards Zoro—he was lounging in the seat across from you, one hand on his swords with his legs crossed. “Hi,” you said carefully.

He stiffened. “Hey.”

You pursed your lips, mulling over the ways to go about the conversation before ultimately deciding to spit it out. “What’s wrong?” At his raised brow, you were prompted to continue— “During dinner. You were acting weird.”

Zoro shook his head, dropping his gaze from yours. You could see the faintest trace of freckles spattered along his cheeks, the yellow glow from the lanterns reflecting off his skin. “Nothing’s wrong. Just… the waiter.”

“The waiter,” you repeated. Zoro shifted, legs uncrossing and hand tightening around his swords again. His voice was low the next time he spoke, and you could barely hear him, having to lean forward to catch all of his words.

“He was flirting with you.”

Your breath hitched, but you tried to keep your tone casual. “He was flirting with Nami too,” you said, glancing up to meet his eyes. Zoro still wouldn’t meet your gaze, staring out into the East Blue behind you.

“That’s different.” Zoro’s eyes finally lifted, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks as you met eyes. You shivered, gooseflesh suddenly prickling up everywhere on your skin—the back of your neck, up your spine, down your arms and legs. “I don’t like Nami.”

You tilted your head to the side, meeting his gaze. The words sent a little rush through you; a rush you got practically every time Zoro looked in your direction, actually, which was only a little bit annoying. The amount of influence a man you’d known for, comparatively, not that long had over you had you rolling your eyes all the time, but… you trusted Zoro at this point, as uncooperative as he and Nami had been throughout your entire journey.

“You’re jealous of a waiter.”

“Don’t—” Zoro sighed. “Don’t put it like that.”

“But it’s true. You’re jealous of a waiter,” you said, unblinking. Zoro rolled his eyes, teeth resting along his lower lip in an almost-bite. You snickered, tone sloping upwards to become more teasing, almost sarcastic. “How the mighty have fallen. From me practically begging you to say I looked nice in a dress to this.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Zoro said, uncrossing his legs to lean over and press his hand over your mouth. You laughed, surprised, as he leaned over you, eyes sparkling at the reaction. “Not another word.”

He removed his hand, giving you a look. You betrayed his trust almost immediately. “Of a waiter.”

“Do you want me to put the hand back?” Zoro threatened, but you were full-on laughing by now, and he couldn’t do anything but watch. The sounds escaped from your mouth, ringing out in soft, lively hiccups. He shook his head, hand falling to his side as he watched you, a ghost of a smile tugging up the side of his mouth.

“Sorry, Ro,” you said, unable to suppress your grin even as your laughter died off. “It’s a little funny, you have to admit.”

“I’d like to hear you talk if someone was flirting with me,” Zoro muttered, so quiet you could barely hear. You had to stifle another laugh.

“Okay, well, unlike you, I don’t get territorial over people I haven’t even talked about my relationship with, but I appreciate it.” You nudged him. “It’s kinda cute.”

Zoro seemed lost in the first half of your sentence, and you could practically see the cogs whirring in his head. For a moment, you were worried that the closet had been a one-time thing—but no, he’d mentioned just earlier that he liked you, so clearly something else was the matter.

Your worries were answered in just another moment. “...We’re supposed to talk about our relationship?”

“Zoro.” You gave him a look of disbelief, forced to suppress another laugh, though this time it was out of incredulity. “Yes. Have you ever dated anyone before?”

Zoro made a face at that. “Keeping that to myself, thanks.” He dropped his chin, glancing down at where you were, still leaning over you so you were forced to crane your neck to stare up at him. He tilted his head to the side. “So what kind of talking are we supposed to be doing?”

“You know, the establishment of being exclusive; a cementation of our feelings; what the relationship entails; where we want it to go…” You paused, watching as his eyes flickered down your face. Your words were going in one ear and out the other. “You’re not listening at all, huh.”

“Not really,” Zoro said, not sounding very apologetic about it. His free hand came to cup the underside of your jaw, tilting your head up just so. “Is the talking really that necessary?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your cool. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” he repeated, stretching out the syllables of the word as he quoted you. “So we can do it another day.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. “What were you thinking?”

Zoro was slotting his lips over yours before you could say another word, his fingers digging into the hinge of your jaw to allow him better access. You smiled into the kiss, lips curling upwards and open to let him lick into your mouth.

It wasn’t too risqué, but Zoro took your breath away all the same, an appreciative murmur low in his throat as he kissed you. One of your hands wrapped around his wrist, tugging him insistently downwards so you could get a better angle at his mouth, sucking gently at his lower lip. He nearly stumbled, losing his center of gravity before steadying himself, one hand coming to rest on your ribcage as the kiss deepened.

“Guys!” Usopp’s voice came somewhere from the right, high-pitched and excessively scandalized. You felt Zoro scoff into your mouth.

“You realize you’re in public, right?” Nami deadpanned, plopping down in the seat next to you. You nudged Zoro’s head away, his hand still on your jaw, half-craned over your figure. Nami looked unimpressed, eyes flickering from Zoro to you and back again. “Get a room. Go back to the Going Merry for all I care.” She extended a hand, placing a mug of beer on the table before you before handing you a matching one. “I got you drinks. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” you said, leaning up to press one final kiss on Zoro’s lips before turning to take the glass Nami had outstretched. Usopp groaned, covering his eyes with one hand and lifting a giant cup of something with the other. It was so big you wondered how he’d even been able to carry it. You eyed him. “You’re going to pass out drinking that.”

Usopp made a face at you. You just laughed.

“Sorted out your issues with the waiter, then?” Nami asked, turning to fix a knowing look on Zoro. He rolled his eyes, effortless as ever as he settled back down into his seat.

“Still don’t like the waiter.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, and Zoro scoffed, picking up the mug Nami had gotten him. You could see the smile behind the glass rim, though, even as he clearly tried to hide it, and matched it with one of your own.

Zoro ducked his head to smile into his beer. Usopp made a gagging sound. “God,” Nami muttered, but their criticisms might as well have been deaf to your ears by then.

All you could see was Zoro.

#one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #reader insert #x reader #opla roronoa zoro #opla zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #opla fanfic #opla fanfiction #opla zoro x reader #kiki writes!

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misspygmypie · 5 months ago

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Meet & Greet... and more? Pt. 3

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Words: 2509 Click here for Part 2

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando was pacing around the McLaren motorhome, his nerves turning his usual confident stride into a jittery shuffle. Every few moments he’d glance at his phone or look up at the entrance, eagerly anticipating Y/N and Noah’s arrival. Oscar leaned casually against a nearby wall, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“Lando,” he said with a grin, “you’re acting like you’re about to meet the King or something.”

Lando shot him a glance, a bit embarrassed. “I know, I know. It’s just… I’ve been looking forward to this for so long. It’s going to be great to finally hang out with them again.”

Oscar chuckled and shook his head. Just then one of the team assistants approached the two of them. “Lando, Y/N and Noah have just arrived. They’re in the hospitality area waiting for you.”

Lando’s eyes lit up and he immediately straightened up, his nervousness transforming into a burst of energy. “Great, thanks” he smiled at the assistant and then turned to Oscar, who was still grinning. “Come on, you’re coming with me. I need moral support.”

Oscar followed, chuckling softly. As they made their way through the McLaren motorhome Lando’s steps were hurried and awkward. He glanced over at Oscar who raised an amused eyebrow at his friend but kept his mouth shut and just when they approached the hospitality area, Lando’s excitement got the best of him.

He was so focused on the approaching meeting that he didn’t see a small plant at the edge of the path. He tripped over it, stumbling forward with an exaggerated flail of his arms. For a brief moment he looked like he was about to take a dive but managed to catch himself at the last second.

Oscar burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Well, you’ve certainly made an entrance.”

Lando groaned awkwardly as he straightened himself, trying to regain his composure. “Fantastic. Just what I needed,” he said, brushing himself off.

He found Y/N and Noah chatting near the refreshments table, their laughter filling the space and he felt his heart race as he approached them, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“You made it” he called out, his voice a little louder than he intended. He extended his arms for a hug, his face beaming.

“Lando! It’s so good to see you” Y/N stepped forward and gave him a warm hug, while Noah followed suit, his small arms clinging onto Lando’s legs.

“I’m so glad you could come,” Lando said, holding onto the lingering hug with Y/N a bit longer before stepping back and crouching down to embrace the little boy as well. “I’ve been counting down the days. I hope you’re ready for a fun weekend!”

Oscar, standing slightly to the side, watched the reunion with a grin. He wanted to give them a few moments before interrupting but eventually decided to say hello as well.

“It’s great to see you both again. I’ve been looking forward to catching up.”

Y/N smiled warmly. “It’s good to see you too, Oscar. Noah’s been excited about the weekend!”

Oscar leaned down a bit so Noah didn’t have to look up so much. “How’s my favorite little car enthusiast doing?”

Noah’s eyes lit up as he replied, “I’m really great!”

The Australian chuckled at the boy’s enthusiasm and ruffled the 4-year-old’s hair before turning back to the young woman and his teammate.

“Well, I’m gonna get some breakfast. Enjoy the day, Lando and try not to trip over any more plants, okay?”

Lando shot him a mock glare as Oscar gave him a playful salute and wandered off. The Brit decided to ignore his friend and turned back to his two guests. “Now follow me, I’ve got something special planned for you!”

Noah’s eyes grew even wider. “The surprise?”

“That’s right,” Lando said with a playful grin.

Lando led them to a private area of the paddock that was sectioned off from the usual hustle and bustle. As they got closer Noah noticed a sleek kids version of a McLaren parked in the center of the area. The car was customized with vibrant colors and designs that matched Lando’s race car and it even had Noah’s name printed on the side.

“This,” Lando said, “is for you, Noah. It’s a special car that you can take for a spin around a small track we’ve set up just for today. It’s a little gift to thank you for being such a big fan and for coming out to the race.”

Noah’s mouth dropped open in awe. “This is amazing! Can I really drive it?”

Lando nodded, chuckling. “Absolutely! I’ll be right here to help you get started. And don’t worry, it’s all safe and ready for a fun ride.”

With Lando’s assistance the boy hopped into the car. His face lit up while Lando walked him through the basics of driving and soon Noah was zooming around the mini track with a huge grin on his face. Y/N watched from the sidelines, her heart swelling with happiness at seeing her son’s joy. Lando stood beside her clearly enjoying the moment as much as they were.

While Noah gleefully drove the car around the small track, his laughter echoing through the area, Y/N and Lando found a quiet spot to catch up.

“So, how have you two been?”

Y/N smiled warmly, appreciating the chance to chat with Lando. “We’ve been doing great. Noah’s been so excited about this trip, it’s all he’s talked about since I told him.”

Lando’s eyes softened as he watched the boy drive around. “He’s really loving it out there. It’s great to see him so happy.”

“Thank you for making it so special for him,” Y/N said. “It means a lot to both of us.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I just hope he’s having as much fun as I am watching him.”

There was a brief pause as they both observed Noah, who was now expertly maneuvering the car with a look of pure concentration on his face. Lando broke the silence, his tone gentle. “If you don’t mind me asking, how’s Noah’s dad doing? I remember you mentioned it’s just you two.”

Y/N sighed softly. “Noah’s dad... well, he actually left us shortly after Noah was born. It’s been just Noah and me since then.”

“That’s awful, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s been tough at times,” Y/N admitted, “but we’ve made it work. Noah is my world and we’ve found our way together.”

Lando nodded, his gaze returning to Noah. Seeing the bond between Y/N and her son stirred something within him, making him wonder what it might be like to be in a father’s shoes.

“He’s a strong kid, and it’s clear he’s got a lot of joy in him. You’ve done an amazing job raising him.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked at Noah, who was now beaming with pride as he completed another lap. “Thank you, Lando. It hasn’t always been easy but seeing him so excited and having experiences like this makes it all worth it.”

Just then Noah hopped out of the car, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “Mommy, Lando, that was so much fun!”

“You did an amazing job out there, bud,” he padded the kid on the back, “I’m glad you had fun but it’s time for me to get ready for qualifying.”

_____

Lando had arranged for Y/N and Noah to have special access to the Paddock Club so they could watch the action up close. With their passes in hand they followed the team’s guide to a prime viewing spot overlooking the track. As the drivers lined up for the start of the qualifying session Lando’s car was easy to spot among the others, thanks to its vibrant McLaren colors and the bright neon yellow on top. Noah bounced in his seat, his eyes glued to the track. “Look, Mommy! There’s Lando’s car!”

Y/N smiled and nodded. “I see it. Let’s cheer him on and hope he does well.”

Meanwhile, Lando sat in his McLaren, feeling an unusual wave of nervousness that he rarely experienced. Normally racing was his element, a place of comfort and focus but today was different.

Come on, Lando, focus, he thought, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he settled into the driver’s seat. He cast a quick glance to where Y/N and Noah were situated, their faces bright with support. I don’t want to let them down.

Lando’s hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his gloves and took a deep breath. The thought of Noah’s eager eyes and Y/N’s warm, encouraging smile filled him with both excitement and pressure.

He shifted his gaze back to the track, the roar of the engines growing louder as the first qualifying round approached its start. The session began and Lando’s car sped through the circuit. Despite his nerves his driving remained sharp and precise. As Lando completed each lap, Y/N and Noah cheered loudly, Noah waved his flag shouting, “Go, Lando!” His enthusiasm was infectious and Y/N joined in, clapping and cheering along with the rest of the crowd.

When the session neared its end the tension was at its peak, Lando was pushing hard for a top spot and the final laps were crucial. Y/N and Noah held their breath as Lando crossed the finish line, completing his last qualifying run.

The screen displayed the results and Lando’s name appeared in top position. Y/N could hardly contain her excitement, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Noah, who was practically vibrating with energy. “We did it, Noah! Lando’s done an amazing job!”

Noah’s face beamed. “I knew he could do it! We should find him and tell him he did great!”

“Absolutely" Y/N nodded. When they finally found him he was surrounded by his team but his face lit up when he spotted the two of them.

“Hey, you two! How was the qualifying? Did you have a good view?”

Noah, still buzzing with excitement, practically launched himself into his arms. “You were amazing! We were cheering so loud!”

Lando laughed, the nervous tension finally melting away as he hugged Noah tightly. He then turned to Y/N with a smile. “Thank you for coming and cheering me on, it means a lot to have you both here.”

“Are we going to have dinner now?” The 4-year-old demanded to know.

“Actually, that’s exactly what I wanted to ask you," Lando’s smile grew even wider. "I was hoping you both would join me for dinner after all the media duties are finished. It would be great to spend more time together.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Great! The hotel has a fantastic restaurant that I think you’ll both enjoy. Let me just wrap up a few things here and then we can head out.”

_________

As the evening went on Lando, Y/N and little Noah were seated comfortably at a corner table providing them with a bit more privacy.

Noah had been his usual energetic self throughout the meal, eagerly sampling different dishes and asking Lando endless questions about race cars. But as the main courses were cleared away and the desserts were brought to the table - rich chocolate cake, creamy tiramisu and a delicious looking fruit tart - Noah’s eyelids grew heavy.

His head gradually drooped and he settled into a more comfortable position. Not too long after he was curled up on Lando’s lap, his breathing steady and relaxed as he drifted off to sleep. Lando didn’t mind at all, in fact he found the weight of the small body resting against him peaceful and comforting.

They continued to chat, their conversation flowing easily as they enjoyed their desserts. Lando found himself sharing more about his life outside the track, his interests, the places he’d traveled and the rituals he had before races. Y/N spoke about her experiences as a parent, the joys and challenges of raising Noah and her own passions and hobbies.

The conversation drifted naturally, touching on everything from favorite books and movies to their dreams and aspirations. With Noah peacefully asleep on Lando’s lap, they both felt a sense of intimacy that allowed them to open up in a way they hadn’t before.

After they had finished their desserts Y/N glanced at the time on her phone and sighed. “I suppose it’s time to get some sleep but I want to thank you again, Lando. Today has been really wonderful.”

“The pleasure was all mine. I’m glad you two were able to come visit me.”

Y/N gently stirred Noah, intending to awaken the boy for their short journey to the room, however, Lando stopped her. “Let me handle this,” he said softly. “He looks so peaceful, I’d hate to wake him.”

Lando carefully lifted Noah into his arms, cradling him to his chest. Though the little boy stirred slightly he remained asleep, nestled comfortably against Lando’s chest, his small arms wrapping themselves around the man’s neck. Lando adjusted his hold to ensure Noah stayed cozy and secure all the way up to their room.

After Noah was finally placed in their hotel bed and Y/N made sure he was comfortable, adjusting the blanket to keep him warm, she turned to Lando with a tired but genuine smile. “Thank you for everything tonight.”

Lando’s heart swelled as he looked at her, feeling his heart skip a beat being so close to her. There was an almost palpable tension between them, a pull that made him want to close the distance and kiss her. His gaze lingered on her lips for a moment. He could feel the desire but he decided against it, sensing that it might not be the right time.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said softly with a warm, reassuring smile. “I’ve enjoyed every moment of today and I can’t wait for more fun tomorrow. I hope Noah sleeps well and that you get some rest too.”

With a final, lingering glance at her, Lando took a deep breath and turned toward the door. His footsteps were quiet as he made his way out of the hotel room. He closed the door behind him and paused for a moment before sighing deeply and finally making his way to his own room. He felt a pang of sadness at having to leave her for the night.

Lando remembered the fun they had shared, helping Noah with his food, hearing Y/N’s laughter over silly memories he shared and the peaceful moments with Noah curled up on his lap. The idea of spending more time with them made his heart melt. He could already envision future dinners, playful moments with Noah and deep conversations with Y/N. He realized he was not just falling for Y/N but falling in love with the entire idea of being a part of their little family.

_________

Click here for Part 4!

Tag: @barcelonaloverf1life @remmysthings @poppyflower-22 @vickykazuya @hadids-world @eloriis @emxlando @lexiecampos @littlegrapejuice @yawn-zi @landossainz

#ln4 x reader #lando imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris #lando fluff #lando fic #lando x y/n #lando norris x y/n #landonorris #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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pedroscurls · 3 months ago

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training partners (pt. 4)

summary: you meet ryan reynolds and shawn levy, and hugh does his best to keep your nerves at bay. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), reader has some description (hair, outfit), smut (oral - m receiving), shower sex (unprotected p in v, hugh bends you over 🫣), dirty talk, hugh briefly calling you a "good girl", no use of y/n. word count: 8.5k a/n: wow, this got filthy real fast but idc lol - i need it to fulfill my fantasies lol (thank you to the anons and @celestiamour who gave me these ideas!). i promise the story is progressing, just needed this little chapter lol. little fun fact about me - i'm also an 'amateur' photographer (who does specialize in engagement shoots, but also love taking landscape / street photography pics) and i've always dreamt of being an on-set photographer so here's to me living out my dream through this story (if you guys ever wanna see my photographs, i'd be so down to post them here too!). this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman (it's the only way i can live out my fantasies of this man lol). prev part. - next part.

Hugh wasn’t lying when he said his schedule would become much busier. It’s been a couple of months since meeting him and while he’s been very busy, he stayed true to his word and prioritized making time for you. When you both weren’t at the gym, he insisted on you staying at his place… and the man can be very convincing when he wants to be.

He’s been traveling a lot and whenever he does get back, he goes straight to your apartment and spends the night. You’ve started to leave a few of your things at his house and he’s started to leave more of his things at yours. Even when he’s traveling and away from you, it never truly does feel like he’s gone. Physically, yes, but he makes time for you and it makes you feel special.

Hugh’s heading back home today and you’re sitting on your couch, dressed in one of his t-shirts and panties with a throw blanket draped over your lap. You hear your phone go off and reach for it, seeing his name and the text he sends you: Coming up, baby. Can’t wait to see you.

You’re about to send a reply before you hear a knock on the door. You grin excitedly, tossing the blanket to the side and standing up, lightly jogging to the door. You swing it open and see him standing there, looking very tired, but still so handsome, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“Hey, baby,” Hugh says, voice hoarse and low as he drops his duffle bag to step past the threshold and wrap his arms around your waist. He nuzzles his face against the side of your neck, letting out a sigh of relief.

You smile against him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Missed you,” you whisper, kissing his cheek. “Come on in. Did you eat?”

Hugh releases you and grabs his duffle bag, stepping back inside as you shut the door and lock it behind him. You follow him to your bedroom where he drops the bag on the floor near his side of the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress and pulls you closer to him, to stand between his legs as he rests his forehead against your abdomen.

“Not hungry,” Hugh says, looking up at you and taking notice of the shirt you’re wearing. His gaze darkens as he runs his fingertips along the sides of your bare legs, biting his lower lip. “This was a longer trip than intended,” he continues. “I’m sorry, love.”

Your fingertips stroke through his locks, eyes locked with his. “You don’t have to apologize. I understand. It’s part of this…” you motion between the both of you. “Part of us.”

“Mm, how’d I get so lucky, huh?” Hugh asks, gripping your hips and pulling you onto his lap.

You gasp quietly, feeling his length pressing against your core. “Hugh… You’re tired, baby.”

“Never tired for you, and seeing you in my clothes just does somethin’ to me,” he whispers, leaning up to press his lips against the side of your neck. His beard has grown out, having heard him say multiple times that he needed to shave. You like it though, the salt and pepper look, the scruff and the feel of it against your skin. He knows just how to use it to get you excited. “At least on my next trip, you’ll be coming with me. I can have you every day.” His hands move further underneath the shirt, running up along your back.

“Hugh,” you whimper, feeling his teeth graze against your neck. Gently, you place your hands on his shoulders and push him onto his back. Slowly, you roll your hips against him, letting out a quiet moan against the fabric of his jeans. “Let me take care of you tonight. Is that okay?”

“What’d you have in mind, baby?” Hugh pulls back to look up at you, a quiet groan escaping his lips as he feels you press further against his hardening length.

Slowly, you climb off his lap and then sit up on your knees, biting your lower lip innocently. “Lean against the headboard,” you tell him.

Hugh doesn’t even hesitate. He scrambles on your bed and sits up, leaning back against your headboard. He reaches the end of his shirt and pulls it over his head, tossing it to the side. Your mattress certainly isn’t as big as his, but you both make it work. His hands move to the button and zipper of his jeans, undoing them quickly as his eyes take in your frame and the position you’re in. You’re leaning forward on your hands, your tongue slowly darting out to lick your lower lip as your eyes move towards the center of his pants.

Hugh’s exhausted and he knows he isn’t going to last long, but he has missed you so much. He knows that this relationship is still new and not that many people know about it, but the more he leaves you, the more he realizes that he wants more of this. He wants everyone in the world to know that you’re his and while he wants to make sure you’re comfortable and move at your own pace, he can’t help but feel excited to know that one day you’d both get there.

“Take off your pants,” you tell him, slowly crawling towards him as he parts his legs for you.

“I kinda like this side of you,” Hugh smirks, pushing his pants and boxers down his legs and tossing them over the bed. He groans at the relief in pressure, looking down at himself to see his manhood at attention. He reaches down and grasps himself, holding onto his base and tugging a few times.

You would never get over the sight of his manhood. So long and girthy, leaking at the tip, and hair at his base. Every time, you’re at a loss for words. He’s so beautiful and you try to show some restraint, wanting so badly to just wrap your lips around his length and gag–

“Come ‘ere,” Hugh calls out, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Take that shirt off, baby.”

You nod and sit up on your knees, pulling the shirt off your body, now only clad in your panties. Slowly, you then crawl towards him, settling yourself between his legs as you gently push away his hand to replace it with your own. Once you wrap your fingers around him, barely able to grasp him in one hand, Hugh lets out a groan. You lean down, wrapping your lips around his tip and sucking the pre-come from his tip.

His large hand moves to your hair, holding it away from your face as he leans his head back against the headboard. “God, baby,” Hugh moans.

Your tongue swirls around his tip as your hand strokes his base. You love doing this for him, just as much as he loves going down on you too. Just like him, you’re always so crazed and yearning for more. You feel Hugh’s hand move to the back of your head, urging you to go further down his length. You slowly begin to bob your head and with each movement, going further and further until you feel his tip hit the back of your throat.

Hugh lets out a loud moan at that, accidentally thrusting his hips upwards for more. He hears you gag and he has to pull you away for a moment so that you can catch your breath, eyes gazing down at you as he sees tears stinging the corner of your eyes.

“Sorry. I got carried away,” Hugh pants, his manhood throbbing for more. “I just– You look–”

“Shh,” you interrupt him, placing your mouth back onto his cock and beginning to quicken your pace. Your head bobs up and down, going further until you feel the tip of your nose brush against the hair at his base. He’s so deep in your mouth and you’ve learned to relax your throat because the sounds that come out of him is something that you yearn for more of.

Hugh lets out a litany of curses under his breath, hand gripping your hair as he watches you. Your hand pumps him in time with your mouth moving along him and he shuts his eyes, head hitting the back of the headboard as a loud moan escapes his lips.

“Baby,” he growls, feeling the tightness build in his lower stomach. “Baby, I’m about to–”

You interrupt him by lowering yourself until you hit the back of his throat again. You don’t slow down and you don’t make a move to pull away because you know that Hugh’s close and you want nothing more than to taste him and swallow.

When Hugh realizes that you weren’t going to pull away, it’s enough to make him reach his climax. He holds your head down against him as his hips slightly lift upwards. You pull inches away, your mouth still around his length, as you feel his come in your mouth. You open your eyes to look up at him, lips slightly parted, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving, as he releases his spend.

You swallow immediately, tasting the salt of his release as you slow your movements. You continue to suck and stroke until he shudders, gently pulling you away from him as his manhood softens against his lower half.

You sit up on your knees and swallow again, licking your lips as you stare up at him. You wipe the fallen tears away from your eyes, lips swollen as you tilt your head at the sight of him. Hugh slowly opens his eyes and stares at you, a small smile lining his lips.

“That’s a nice thing to come home to,” Hugh smiles, lowering himself on your bed and pulling you into his arms. “That was amazing.”

You smile, leaning up to kiss his shoulder. “I can’t help myself sometimes. You’re just so–” you stop yourself, biting your lower lip. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re home.”

“I’m glad I’m home too, baby.” Hugh kisses the crown of your head and pulls you against his chest.

You try to pull away from him to grab the shirt from the floor, but he just pulls you back to him. “Hugh,” you giggle.

“No,” he smiles sleepily. “You don’t need a shirt.”

“What if I get cold?”

“I’ll warm you up,” he says softly, leaning over to kiss your temple. “I really did miss you, love.” Hugh’s eyes slowly fall shut, feeling completely satisfied and relieved to be with you now.

“I missed you too, Hugh,” you respond, head resting against him. “Get some sleep, baby.”

Hugh nods and within minutes, his snores begin to fill your small room.

—

Hugh decides to stay at your apartment for the next few days and it gives you a glimpse of what a “normal” life would be like with him. You know that you’re set to meet Shawn and Ryan soon and as the day nears, you feel your nerves begin to settle in the pit of your stomach. You don’t tell Hugh though, not wanting him to have to worry about you.

“So,” you tell him, trying to think of anything else but the meeting with Shawn and Ryan. “I was thinking we can tell our trainer about… You know, about us.”

Hugh’s eyes light up, turning to look over at you. You’re both sitting on your couch, his arm draped over the back of it as you snuggle against his side. “Yeah?” Hugh can’t help the excitement bubble within him. He knows you’re still a bit wary about this relationship, but if he had it his way, he’d let the whole world know you’re his. “Are you sure, baby?”

You nod, looking up at him as an arm drapes over his midsection. “Besides, I think she already knows. It’s not like you try to hide it when we’re at the gym.”

“Me?” Hugh playfully gasps, looking into your eyes. “You’re the one who can’t keep their eyes off of me.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, we both know that’s a lie,” you tell him, though, you know you’re only lying to yourself.

“Is it though, baby?” Hugh smirks, pulling you onto his lap as he looks up at you, hands resting on your thighs. “You do this thing, and I’m almost certain you have no idea you’re doing it.”

“And what’s that, hm?”

“You bite your lower lip,” Hugh grins, bringing a hand up to run the pad of his thumb across your lower lip. “When your eyes zero in on my arms… especially when we’re doing biceps.”

You narrow your eyes at him, bringing your arms to drape over his shoulders. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say innocently.

“Oh, so now we wanna act all innocent? You were all talk a minute there,” he chuckles, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.

“Okay, hush you,” you smile, burying your face against the side of his neck. He holds you like this for a few moments, but he can tell there’s something else on your mind. He runs his hands along your back and up your shoulders, and back down to your waist. He can feel the tension in your shoulders, can hear the quiet sigh that escapes your lips, your breath fanning against the side of his neck.

“What’s up?” he asks quietly, slowly pulling you back so that he can look into your eyes. “What’s on your mind, love?”

“Nothing,” you tell him, shrugging a shoulder.

Hugh sighs. “You’re a terrible liar, d’ya know that?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not lying.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle and brings a hand up to your cheek, gently cupping it. “Talk to me. What can I do to help ease that mind of yours?”

“How do you know something’s bothering me?”

Hugh sighs, tilting his head. “You know, I’m very observant. Especially when it comes to you.”

“Ah, so you stare too.”

Hugh chuckles lightly, knowing that this is only your way of trying to lighten the mood. “Well, obviously, but that’s besides the point. I don’t know how I can ease that mind of yours if you don’t talk to me, baby. We talked about this already…”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know. I just don’t want to burden you with my problems and–”

“Your problems are my problems, baby,” Hugh says seriously. “Let me help you. What’s going on?”

“I’m just nervous,” you tell him. “Meeting Ryan and Shawn… I just don’t want to disappoint them and what if they realize that my work isn’t even that great and then also, it’ll be the first time I’m meeting your friends and–” you ramble, feeling him lean in to peck your lips.

“Okay, first of all,” he says, pulling away. “Your work is absolutely amazing and they already know that. And second, as long as I’m happy, that’s all that matters to them. Just be you, baby. That’s what got me in the first place,” he smiles. “Don’t try to be anyone else, but you. You make me happy and I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. That means something to me.”

You nod, looking deeply into his eyes. You can sense there’s something else he wants to say because you also want to say it too, but it’s too early. It’s only been a couple of months and you don’t want to scare him away, but you’d be lying if you said that your feelings for him weren’t getting any deeper…

Because it was.

And you’re afraid to fall because you know that if you do, there’s truly no going back.

“I just–” you sigh, leaning in to press your forehead against his. “I just want you happy.”

“I am happy, baby,” he replied quickly, lightly pecking your lips. “I’m happy with you, love. You’ll be okay,” he promises. “Besides, I’ll be there with you.”

You nod and wrap your arms around his shoulders tightly, burying your face against the side of his neck. Hugh’s hands come up to your shoulders and he can feel a tremendous difference. There’s still some tension, but it’s certainly not like how it was before.

“Okay, I believe you,” you tell him, pulling back to look down at him. “Should we go get ready for the gym?”

Hugh nods, standing up from the couch with you holding onto him. You smile down at him, legs wrapped around his waist as you lock your ankles together at his lower back. He holds you up against him, leading you down the hallway to your bedroom.

“If I wasn’t training to get back into shape for the Wolverine, I’d take you right here,” he says quietly, leaning in to pepper kisses along your neck.

“We literally had sex earlier this morning,” you tell him with a giggle, hands playing with his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Do you know what you look like?” Hugh says, gently setting you on your feet once you both get to your bedroom. “You make me feel young again,” he teases.

“Ah, right,” you tell him, grabbing the ends of the shirt you’re wearing and pulling it over your head, tossing it in his direction. “I forget you’re such an old man,” you tease, walking shirtless to your closet to change into your workout clothes.

Hugh’s gaze darkens and he strides over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. His hands come up to cover your breasts, kneading them into the pit of his palms. “How about I just bend you over right across your dresser and just–”

“Hugh!” you whimper pushing back against him. “We have to get to the gym.”

Hugh grunts and then pulls away, turning you around so that he can look at your exposed chest. “Fine,” he says with a huff. “But after our workout, we’re coming back here and you’re gonna let me have my way with you.”

“Oh, I’m gonna let you, huh?” you grin, running your hands across his hardened chest.

“Yeah, you are,” Hugh growls, stepping closer to you and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. “Now, go and get ready or else we’re never going.”

You turn around to grab clothes and feel Hugh smack your backside, causing a gasp to escape your lips. You look over at him and he’s staring at you with a grin and winks in your direction before walking away to let you finish getting ready.

—

You and Hugh are both halfway through your workout, both already drenched in sweat from yet another tough workout from your trainer. You get a brief break and walk up to your trainer, taking a deep breath. This will be the first person that you’ll be telling about your relationship and you’re a bit nervous. It still feels surreal to say (or even believe) that you’re in a relationship with Hugh Jackman.

“Hey you,” your trainer says, smiling in your direction. “Great first half of the workout.”

“Yeah right,” you laugh quietly, using your towel to wipe the sweat off your brow. “I felt like that just kicked my ass. Listen, I wanted to tell you something and…”

A knowing grin lines her lips. “What’s that?”

Your eyes narrow in her direction, tilting your head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” she chuckles. “What did you want to tell me?”

You look over your shoulder at Hugh who’s looking down at his phone and your eyes linger on his arms, especially his arms. When he looks up at you, he winks in your direction and you clear your throat, turning your attention back to your trainer. “So, Hugh and I… We’re in a relationship… It’s still new, but–”

“I knew it,” she interrupts you with a larger smile. “You guys don’t make an effort to hide it, you know,” she laughs. “You stare at him a lot.”

“Okay, let’s never tell him that because he won’t ever let me live it down if you do,” you laugh. “But, I’m really happy. Like extremely happy and I’m afraid I’m going to end up self-sabotaging it because I don’t know what a healthy relationship looks like, but he’s… He’s amazing.”

“Take it day by day,” your train responds. “You deserve a good man and Hugh’s definitely one of the good ones. Let yourself be loved the way you deserve,” she tells you.

“Thank you,” you reply, pulling her into a hug. “You know just all the right things to say, you know that?”

She hugs you tightly and then releases you, smiling at you. “Lots of experience. Now, let’s get back to the workout.”

—

By the end of the work out, you’re lying on the mats trying to catch your breath. You’re about to stand up before you feel Hugh hover above you in a high plank position, his hands resting above your head at shoulder-width distance.

“Care to motivate me to complete my finisher?” he grins, looking down at you as he tightens his core to keep himself upright.

“I don’t think I can even move,” you chuckle, looking up at him. “That workout was–”

“Don’t gotta move, baby,” he winks, pushing himself down in a push-up, chest hovering inches above yours as he leans down to peck your lips. “Just motivate me with your kisses, can you do that for me?”

“That’s gonna motivate you?” you tease. “And how in the hell are you holding this push-up position?”

Hugh just chuckles and then pushes himself back up. “Just answer the question. Every time I come down, gimme a kiss. Seems easy enough, isn’t it?”

“If I must,” you wink. “Now, come on then. Finish this last exercise so you can take me back home and have your way with me,” you repeat.

Hugh’s eyes narrow, pushing himself down into a push-up. You meet him halfway and lean up to peck his lips before he pushes himself upright. He continues this for a few more reps, but you’re beginning to distract him because you bring your hands up his chest to his shoulders and down his flexed arms.

“I have one more set, baby, stop that,” Hugh says, pushing himself down and pecking your lips. He notices the look in your eyes and he can feel himself stirring within his shorts. “You’re not helping me,” he chuckles.

“I think I’m helping you plenty,” you reply. “But are you helping me?”

Hugh pushes himself down once more, but moves his head to the side of your neck as his lips brush against you. He feels you shudder against him and let out a shaky breath. He barely pushes himself back up as he moves to hover his lips closely over yours. “I will be after this.”

“Mmm, promise? Because all I’ve been able to think about is you bending me over and–”

Hugh growls and moves into a high plank once more. He looks down at you, watching as you bite your lower lip. He doesn’t bother replying to you, wanting to just finish his last set of this exercise so that he can just take you back home.

“Okay, get on up and meet me in the car while I finish this.”

“You don’t need me to motivate you anymore?” you ask innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

Hugh shakes his head and then stands up, reaching down to pull you on your feet. His hand darts out to rest on your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze. He has to remind himself that you’re both still at the gym and while your trainer isn’t in the same room, he can’t just take you here.

“Go to the car and wait for me there,” he repeats.

“Or… what?”

Hugh lets out a low growl, gaze darkening. He steps closer to you, pulling you flush against him at the same time as his lips hover near your ear. He whispers quietly, voice laced with desire and it shoots straight to your core. “Oh, baby, are we not gonna be a good girl today?” He nudges against you, hand dipping from your hip to move around your lower back, inching further to grasp your backside. “Because I’m sure you remember what happens when you ain’t being good.”

“But, what if I like being bad?”

“Then don’t whine and beg for me to let you come,” Hugh says with a husky voice. You can feel chills wash over your body as you pull back to look up at him, eyes narrowing in his direction. “Now, meet me in the car. I’ll be there shortly.”

You want to call his bluff, but you just want him so badly that you move away with a huff. “Fine,” you tell him, turning around to grab your bag. He reaches for your hand for a moment, his touch soft and gentle in comparison to the words he just said as he pulls you back to him.

“Gimme a kiss at least.”

“So needy, so demanding,” you tell him, leaning up on your toes to peck his lips.

“Yeah, we’ll see who’s needy later.” he replies almost instantly.

—

The ride back to your apartment was quick. You can tell Hugh was trying to get back to your place in record time. His right hand remained on your upper thigh, but throughout the entire ride, he didn’t say anything. You know where his mind had drifted to, what he was probably thinking because when you reached over to rest your own hand on his thigh, he just grabbed your wrist and pushed it away.

“No, baby,” was all he said. The moment he pulls into his parking spot at your apartment complex, he quickly climbs out to grab your bags from the trunk. You step out of the car and begin walking towards your door, looking over your shoulder at Hugh whose eyes are staring directly at you.

And once inside your apartment, Hugh drops both of your bags and shuts the door with his foot. The moment you both remove your shoes, Hugh is on you. His arms wrap around your waist, head dipping down to press light kisses on the side of your neck. He pulls you flush against him and he hears you gasp, knowing that you can feel his hardening length beneath his shorts.

“Hugh…” you whimper, arms snaking around his shoulders. “Can we–”

“Shh,” Hugh interrupts, lifting you in his arms as you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. He begins walking down the hallway towards your bedroom until he feels your lips on his neck, gently biting down and sucking on the skin afterwards.

Suddenly, Hugh stops and turns you so that your back is pressed against the wall. He pulls back to look at you, grabbing your hands and pressing them roughly against the wall above your head. Your legs remain tightly wrapped around him, rolling your hips slowly as you yearn for friction, yearn to feel more of him.

Hugh’s gaze is filled with lust as he stares at you, gripping your wrists as he leans forward, nose nudging against yours. “I should punish you for not listening to me earlier, for teasing me…” Hugh says, his breath fanning against your lips.

“But?” you ask, tilting your head as you squeeze him closer to you. “But you’re too nice and won’t do that, right?” you smile, letting out a quiet giggle.

Hugh shakes his head and rests his forehead against yours. “You’re really testing me, aren’t ya? And you know exactly what you’re doin’.”

“I have an idea,” you tell him, leaning in to gently nip at his lower lip. “How about we take a shower and… and see what happens?”

Hugh lets out an involuntary groan, just thinking and imagining bending you over in your shower or even just holding you up in his arms like this while the water cascades down your bodies. He suddenly sets you back onto your feet, releasing your wrists as he looks down at you.

“Lead the way then, baby.”

“Yeah?” you ask excitedly, eyes lighting up in anticipation. Without waiting for him to reply, you grab his hand and lead him towards your bedroom and into the connected bathroom. Once inside, you release your hold on him and lean over the tub to let the water run so that it can heat up. You reach out to test the temperature, feeling the water hit your hand. When you turn back to Hugh, he’s already stripped down to his boxers with an obvious bulge beneath it.

Your eyes take in his frame, moving along his chiseled and muscular upper body and down to the waistband of his boxers. You swallow quietly, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and pulling it down your legs. Hugh stands there, watching you undress as he moves his boxers down his own legs. He lets out a groan of relief, hand immediately reaching down to grasp onto his throbbing length to stroke himself slowly.

Your clothes pool at your ankles as you stand before him, completely naked and bare, watching as he strokes himself at the mere sight of you. You feel a wetness pool between your legs, throbbing and yearning to wrap around something.

Hugh takes the initiative to step inside the shower, the water instantly hitting his sore muscles and the heat of the water doing its job to provide relief. He watches you step inside with him and immediately, he reaches out to grab you and pull you flush against him. The water cascades down both your bodies from above as you reach up to stroke back your wet hair and see Hugh do the same. You lean up on your toes and slowly press your lips against his, moving it almost instantly as you feel his manhood stir and throb against your lower abdomen.

His hands move down your wet back and to your backside, gripping both cheeks tightly in his large hands as he feels your breasts push against him. He’s throbbing so painfully that he knows he can’t tease you and drag this out long enough to have you begging because he needs to be inside of you now.

Slowly, Hugh pulls away to look down at you. Eyes searching your own and it’s in this moment that Hugh feels like this can be something so much more than he expected it to be. He reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against you as the water continues to trickle down your bodies.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he whispers.

When Hugh’s gaze softens like this, eyes staring deeply into your own, it almost feels like you know what he’s thinking, what he wants to say but doesn’t. You feel his thumb move down your cheek until the pad of his thumb brushes lightly along your lower lip, causing your lips to part instinctively.

“Hugh, I–”

He interrupts you with a soft kiss on your lips. “I know, baby. I’m gonna take care of you.” Then, he turns you around, eyes drifting down your back to your backside. Hugh then moves a hand to your middle back and slowly guides you to bend over as you reach out to rest your hands on the shower wall in front of you.

Hugh grasps himself and runs his tip along your folds, growling to himself. He uses his free hand to rest on your hip, fingertips digging into your flesh as he slowly slides into you. Your warmth and tightness surrounds him and he forces himself to keep the slow pace, your moans mixing in with the sounds of the water. He reaches up to take hold of your wet hair in his grasp, tilting your head slightly to the side so that he can see your face.

You moan loudly at the feel of him stretching you out. You don’t think you’d ever get used to his size, but despite the painful stretch in the beginning, you know that your walls will slowly begin to give way for him. And you’re always dripping wet for him that he just slides right in and this is certainly no different.

When Hugh fills you to the hilt, he has to remain still for a moment because you’re gripping him so tight that he knows once he starts to move, he won’t be able to stop until he reaches his high. But he suddenly feels you move back against him, eyes immediately drifting down to your backside as this position gives him such an amazing view. He moves his hand from your hair to your hip as both hands grip you and begin to move you back and forth on his hardened length.

Your moans filter into the bathroom, the steam from the shower encompassing the entire bathroom. As Hugh pulls you back against him, he pushes his hips forward, groaning to himself at the sensation of your warmth. Hugh will never get enough of this, of you. He’s had plenty of conversations with Ryan about you, about how he can see himself falling so deeply in love with you that it not only scares him, but also excites him too.

“Hugh…” you moan, reaching back to grab a hold of his forearm as your nails dig into the skin. His thrusts are slowly beginning to pick up in speed, the sound of skin slapping against one another now mixing in with the sounds of your moans and the water that has now turned cool.

“Oh, baby,” Hugh groans, taking your hand and holding it firmly against your lower back. He pulls back, looking down at where you’re connected and it turns him on even more. Your slickness coats his entire length and he pushes back into you with ease, your walls giving way to his girth but still so tight around him.

You feel your body begin to tremble as Hugh’s thrusts bring you closer and closer to the edge. As you’re about to reach your high, you quickly pull away from him, his length slipping out of you with ease. You turn around to face him, biting your lower lip as Hugh looks at you with a confused look.

“You were close, weren’t you?” Hugh smirks, stepping closer to you.

“Sorry, it was too much and I–”

Hugh presses his lips against yours and then lifts you up into his arms, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist with ease. He uses his free hand to reach down to grasp his base, lining himself at your entrance. He pressed your back against the shower wall as he slowly slides back into you, growling against your lips.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders as your fingernails dig into the skin at his upper back. He wastes no time in thrusting up into you, his hands resting underneath you. He’s careful not to slip, even with the water continuing to run down but he needs you to to come, needs to see and hear you. Slowly, he pulls away from your lips, forehead instead resting against yours as your lips brush against his.

“Come for me, baby,” Hugh whispers, driving his hips upwards. The muscles in his arms and chest flex as he holds you up against the wall, pulling his hips back only to push them back towards you, his length kissing that sweet spot within your depths repeatedly.

Your walls begin to tighten around his length and you squeeze your legs even tighter around him to pull him closer to you as your nails drag down his back. “Hugh!” You hold onto him tightly, feeling his movements become more erratic.

Hugh buries his face against the side of your neck, teeth dragging along your skin as he feels himself get closer and closer to the edge. He feels you tighten even further around him and he pulls out abruptly to shoot his release in the inside of your thigh.

You stare at him, completely breathless as you lean forward to peck his lips lightly. “We didn’t even shower,” you tease, panting against him.

Hugh chuckles, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. “Worth it,” he replies. “And you called my bluff… I just couldn’t tease you and have you beg when all I wanted to do was just be inside of you.”

“Good…” you smile, slowly unwrapping your legs around his waist so that you can fully stand upright. Your legs feel a bit wobbly, bracing yourself on his shoulders as his hands move to your hips. “Because I’d have been a mess if you left me begging.”

“Mmm,” Hugh grins. “That doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe next time,” he winks. “Now, come on. Let’s get cleaned up, love.”

—

For the rest of the week, you’re spending it at Hugh’s place. It’s easy how you both can slip into a routine with each other and how well you both coexist. Even though this relationship is still very new and in the beginning stages, you’re starting to see exactly how easy you can fit into Hugh’s life. You still have some reservations, still nervous that this might not work out, but the more time you spend with him, the more you realize that this is something you’d want to give a chance for the possibility of being something greater than you ever imagined.

You’re set to meet Ryan and Shawn tonight and you’re nervous. Knowing that Hugh would be there with you does ease your mind, but this is the first step in truly seeing if you can fit into his life.

You’re in the kitchen, whisking pancake batter in a bowl to cook breakfast for you and Hugh. You’ve gotten used to wearing his clothes and this morning is no different because you’re just dressed in one of his black t-shirts and nothing but. You’re so deep in thought, focused solely on making breakfast that you don’t hear him coming down the stairs and it isn’t until you feel his arms wrap around you from behind that it pulls you out of your trance.

“Morning, baby,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss the side of your neck. “Making me breakfast?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Protein pancakes and then some scrambled eggs.”

You turn your head and kiss his cheek, smiling in his direction before you continue to whisk the batter.

“You spoil me,” he smiles. “I’m going on a run with a few friends, but I should be back by the time you’re done.” Hugh then pulls away from you to grab a glass of water as you turn to look at him. He’s dressed in a fitted white t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants, tennis shoes, and a hat. Your eyes take in his frame, lingering at his arms and chest and down his legs. It isn’t until he clears his throat that you finally look up at him who’s staring at you with a knowing smirk.

“What’s on your mind, hm?” Hugh grins.

“You just look…” you bite your lower lip, reaching down to play with the end of your (his) t-shirt. “I like seeing you in a white t-shirt and the one you’re wearing is literally about to rip. It’s so tiny!”

“It is not,” Hugh chuckles, eyes lingering on your frame as well. “I’m just getting bigger…”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” you grin and walk towards him, hands running across his chest as you feel him flex underneath your fingertips. “I like you either way, but seeing you get into shape as Wolverine again is just…”

Hugh leans down and pecks your lips, hand moving down to your hip. “Oh, I know. You practically stare at me every chance you get.”

“Do you blame me?”

“Not at all…” Hugh smiles, staring deeply into your eyes. “But that’s only because I stare at you every chance I get too.”

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

“I’d say the best pair,” Hugh says softly. “You ready for tonight?”

You shrug and move your arms to wrap around his shoulders. “No, I’m nervous… But I think knowing that you’ll be there helps a bit.”

“Just a bit?”

You smile. “Oh yeah, a very tiny bit.”

Hugh’s eyes narrow. “If I’m only gonna help a tiny bit, then I might as well not go with you.”

“No!” you say immediately, shaking your head. “Don’t do that. I need you there.”

“Ah, so more than a tiny bit.”

“Yes,” you laugh quietly. “Since you’ll be there, I know I’ll be okay.”

“You’d be okay with or without me there,” Hugh reassures. “But I’m happy to spend time with you, Ryan, and Shawn tonight.”

“It’s going to be very casual, right?”

Hugh nods. “Very casual.” he pecks your lips lightly and then pulls away. “I better get going. I’ll be back soon, baby.”

“Have a good run, Hugh,” you tell him, hands slowly sliding down his arms before you move back to the task at hand. Your eyes focus on whisking the batter as you move around in his kitchen to grab the necessary things you need to complete breakfast. Hugh watches you for a brief moment, eyes filled with so much love and appreciation that for a split second, he wants so badly to tell you what has been on his mind since his last trip.

But he doesn’t.

Not yet.

—

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a pair of high waisted denim pants with a black, loose fit collared v-neck knitted sweatshirt. Your makeup remains light and natural and you play nervously with the black belt on your pants.

Hugh comes up from behind you, dressed just as casually in a pair of black jeans, black t-shirt with a black bomber jacket over. He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin against the side of your neck.

“You look amazing.” Hugh smiles. “You ready to go?”

“I’m nervous,” you admit. “Not only do I want them to like my work, but there’s a bit of added pressure because they know we’re together and they’re both your closest friends and–”

Hugh quietly hushes you with a gentle kiss against your temple. “They already like your work,” he reassures you. “And I talk about you all the time. It’s like they already know you.”

“I don’t know if that helps me or not,” you tell him honestly. “I just–” You turn around to face him, looking up at him. “I just really like you and I want to get along with your friends, even if they are really fucking famous and–”

“Stop,” Hugh says, gently resting his hands on your hips. “Just think of it as a night out with friends. We’re gonna grab dinner and a couple of drinks and then call it a night.”

“What if you realize that I’m actually not all that great and then rethink this entire relationship?”

“Okay,” Hugh sighs quietly and rests his forehead against yours, eyes staring deeply into yours. “I like you, a lot, baby. I know this is still new for us, but there’s nothing I want more than to be with you.” He brings a hand up to your cheek, thumb brushing against your soft skin. “Just be you.”

“But what if–”

“Nope,” he interrupts. “What does our trainer tell you?” He tilts his head, eyes gazing into your own. “Ah, yes. Self-talk, baby. You gotta treat yourself just as kindly as I see you treat others.”

“Okay,” you nod, letting out a quiet sigh. “We should probably go before I talk myself out of it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t let you back out,” Hugh smiles, taking your hand and leading you out of the bathroom. Your heels click against the tile floor as you follow Hugh downstairs. “We’re taking a car tonight. I know you still want to keep this relationship under wraps from press, so I figured–”

“Thank you, Hugh.” you say softly, following him out of his house and towards the black SUV parked out front. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

“I just want my girl to be comfortable and happy,” Hugh smiles.

My girl.

You slide into the car and immediately greet the driver, who looks at you from the rearview mirror with a shocked expression. Hugh slides in right next to you and shuts the door, hearing you make small talk with the driver and he smiles to himself. It baffles him how kind, sweet, and considerate you are to other people, but to yourself, it’s a very different story. He wishes he can make you see just how amazing you are or make you see the way he sees you.

Hugh also chimes in on the conversation as the driver begins driving away from Hugh’s house and towards the city. His hand moves to rest on your thigh, looking down at you with a small smile on his lips. He leans in and kisses the side of your head, feeling your hand move to cover his own.

It doesn’t take long before you and Hugh arrive at the restaurant. You look outside and let out a breath of relief, glad that you don’t see one paparazzi as Hugh steps out first. He reaches a hand out for you and you tell the driver to have a good night before you take Hugh’s hand and climb out after him.

He leads you inside and immediately spots Ryan and Shawn at the corner of the restaurant, waving in both of your directions.

“Just be you,” Hugh repeats, whispering into your ear as you follow closely behind him.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Ryan teases, hugging Hugh as you bite your lower lip. You watch him greet Shawn before he turns to you, a large smile on his lips. He rests a hand on your lower back, urging you closer to the table.

“And this is…” Hugh smiles, saying your name as he introduces you to Ryan and Shawn.

“Okay, you’ve told us a lot about her, but you didn’t say she was this beautiful,” Ryan replies, causing a quiet chuckle to escape Hugh’s lips. You feel heat rise in your cheeks as you instinctively lean against Hugh for comfort, for support.

Just be you.

You take a deep breath and then reach your hand to shake Shawn and Ryan’s hands, smiling up at them. “I’m eager to hear what things he’s said about me if beautiful wasn’t part of it,” you tease.

Hugh shakes his head and pulls out your chair, waiting until you sit down before he takes his spot next to you. Ryan and Shawn sit across from you, already each with a drink in front of them.

“I like you,” Ryan chuckles. “I’m Ryan.”

“I’m Shawn.”

You smile and feel Hugh’s hand move to rest casually on your thigh. You don’t realize how much it brings you comfort and you glance up at him for a moment before you turn your attention to Shawn and Ryan.

“I’m a huge fan of you both… And I’m excited to join you for the movie,” you tell them.

“Oh, Hugh’s shown us some of your work and it’s impressive. I can’t believe you only do engagement shoots,” Shawn says, his eyes lighting up. “I mean, those are great too, but your landscapes and street photography are amazing.”

“I still can’t believe it,” you tell him, laughing quietly. “I mean, I’m just a woman with a camera–”

“Who takes fucking awesome pictures,” Ryan finishes for you.

“He’s right. We’re excited to have you join us too.” Shawn adds.

Hugh smiles proudly in your direction, looking around the table as you continue to have a conversation with both Ryan and Shawn. He envisioned this so clearly, how well you fit in in his life and to see it firsthand, it makes him feel the love he has for you bloom in his heart.

He looks over at Ryan, who’s staring back at him with a knowing grin. Hugh narrows his eyes, tilting his head before he interrupts you and Shawn briefly.

“Ryan and I are gonna grab a drink at the bar. What d’ya want, baby?”

“White wine, love,” you say almost instantly, your pet name for him coming out naturally that it causes you to blush.

Hugh grins at that and then stands up with Ryan, walking towards the bar. He feels Ryan place a firm hand on his shoulder and he looks over at the other man, letting out a quiet chuckle.

“Okay, out with it. I know you have something to say.”

“What? Me?” Ryan playfully gasps then laughs quietly. “I’ve got nothing,” he lies.

Hugh’s eyes narrow. “We both know that’s a lie. What is it?”

Ryan smiles genuinely. “You’re happy.”

“I am, mate. She makes me happy,” Hugh replies almost too quickly. He glances over his shoulder at you, seeing you in such natural conversation with Shawn. He doesn’t see the tension in your shoulders, doesn’t see the concern or anxiety in your features; you’re completely relaxed and comfortable.

“And she’s great,” Ryan adds.

“She is, isn’t she?” Hugh smiles. “I think…” he sighs, biting the inside of his cheek. “I think I’m falling in love with her, Ryan.”

“Oh, I could have told you that,” he chuckles. “Does she know?”

Hugh shakes his head. “No, no. It’s still too early. I don’t– I don’t want to scare her away.”

Once at the bar, Ryan raises a hand in the air to get the bartender’s attention before he turns back to look at Hugh. “Well, something tells me that she probably feels the same way.”

“You don’t know that, mate.”

“Hugh,” Ryan says. “Do you not see the way she looks at you?”

Hugh looks over at you, catching your gaze briefly. He feels the warmth in his chest at the sight of you smiling in his direction. He winks over at you before he turns to Ryan. “It’s still too early,” he repeats. “I’ll tell her when… when I think the moment is right.”

Before Ryan can reply, the bartender comes by and Hugh tells him your drink order and his. After a few minutes, he thanks the bartender as he and Ryan make his way back to the table and realizes that you aren’t at the table.

“She went to the bathroom,” Shawn tells them, then he turns to Hugh with a grin. “Hugh, she’s amazing.”

Hugh smiles, sitting down. He looks over at the hallway towards the bathrooms, seeing you walk down the hallway as you begin making your way back to them, back to him.

“Yeah, she is,” he says, voice laced with so much love and appreciation as his eyes stay locked on yours. “I don’t think I’m ever letting her go.”

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1 - @wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf - @needz1nk - @fandomxo00 - @godlypresley - @kythefangirl25 - @callsignyourmom - @sue8724 - @squishyfruitloop - @sylviavf - @emotrash1 - @dissentientss - @sir-thisisadndserver - @absolutepie - @millajay

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x f!reader #hugh jackman x fem!reader #hugh jackman x female reader #real person fiction #real person fanfiction #story: training partners

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hazeytae · 24 days ago

Text

stoner!bf leehan drabble...

♡, nsfw, stoner!leehan, drug use (mary jane 🍃), high sex, fingering, afab!reader, unprotected sex, cum eating, nicknames (baby, pretty girl, princess, slut, etc.), porn with little to no plot

🗒️: heavily inspired by a mark fanfic i read last year (i think?!), omg stoner!bnd has been on my mind so much... i wasnt sure if i shld do leehan or taesan for this!! might do a taesan ver ? 🫣 this was way longer than i intended i had sm fun writing this :33 took me like a week to finish this wtf? also i had no clue how to end this so ignore that awkward ending

by the time leehan had begun rolling a blunt for the two of you to enjoy, the hum of whatever show you and leehan were watching had already faded into the background as you watched leehan excitedly. sat in nothing but your panties and leehans oversided shirt you fiddled with the weed grinder until leehan announced he had finished rolling up.

"alright, all finished," he held up the joint smiling proudly, "want the first hit princess?" he smiled watching your face light up handing you the blunt and grabbing the lighter. you nodded moaning as you put the blunt between your lips and he lit it. leehans glossy eyes took in your pretty face as you took a long drag and the smoke surronded both of you.

a few hits later and you and leehan are starting to feel your highs kick in. meaningless conversations suddenly turned into a heavy and mindless makeout- both of you too high out your mind to think of anything besides each other. your mind is practically blank as you whimper into leehans mouth while he gripped on your thighs, only pulling away with a string of saliva connecting you to take your shirt off while he admired you taking another long drag from the blunt before immediately going back to kissing you sloppily. "hows my girl so pretty? i need this pussy so bad..." he mumbled, not even giving you time to reply with a smart answer before he smashed his lips back onto yours, holding your waist as you grinded down onto his thigh.

"leehanie, give it t'me" you stumbled over your words feeling your eyes getting heavy as you struggled to take off your panties. "i gotchu baby..." he whispered contendedly as he helped you rid yourself of your underwear, only he moved too slow for you.

everything felt too slow for you. "l-leehan quicker! i really really reallyyy need it. cant wait!" knowing that your high was making you so needy, he laughed when you complained. once he had gotten your panties completely off and onto a now forgotten pile in the floor he dipped his finger in between your folds and teased your clit, causing you to let out a loud whimper begging him to speed up. leehan chuckled at your begs and whines slipping a finger in.

"i- i got you baby," leehan groaned listening to your whinpers as he thrusted his fingers in and out of your sobbing hole. using his free hand to pick up the joint, he held it between your lips watching you take a drag as he plunged his fingers into you, curling them up just right. you breathe out the smoke into his face just before you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, "o-oh leehan!" you squeal signaling to leehan how close you were.

"oh youre so pretty," leehan moaned watching you come undone on his fingers "fuck. all for me, fuck- all mine" he was so high out his mind he felt like he was gonna cum in his pants if he didnt just fuck you already. pulling his fingers out of you slowly and placing them into his mouth just to catch a taste of your fluids on his fingers, letting out a loud beautiful moan. you swore his moans sounded like the most beautiful music youve ever heard. you couldnt help but let out a moan at the sight and sound of him eating your cum which made him giggle.

his cute giggles completely contrasted the way he suddenly flipped you onto your back on the bed and ripped your shirt off, making you squeal happily. "baby- i need this pussy so bad," he moaned looking at your exposed body, "i need you so bad." you looked up into his red eyes with your gorgeous low red eyes biting your lip, almost swearing you were too dumb to speak at this point- letting your euphoria and neediness take over.

you watched as he fumbled with his sweatpants, hastily getting them off and pulling his hard leaking cock out, pumping it a few times. he looked down at you as you drooled at the sight, "leehan..." was all you could manage to whimper out before he pushed into you- raking a loud moan out of him from the feeling of your velvety walls which felt like heaven to him.

"baby- im not gonna be able to hold- im gonna go really quick, you can take it, i know it. cmon, youre always good for me. please i need this so bad." he was babbling now and he hadnt even started moving inside your fluttering walls. you giggled nodding up at your boyfriend, "i-i can take whatever you give me baby" you slur your words gripping onto the sheets in desperation.

the second you uttered those words he pounded into you, immediately finding your g-spot. even in his high euphoric state he still knew your body like the back of his back of his hand. the sound of fast paced wet skin slapping against each other and both your needy moans flooded the room.

leehan stared into your eyes as his body loomed over you, making you feel little under him. a mix of degradation and praises spilled out of leehans mouth, blabbers lf 'my stupid slut- doing so good,' 'you were made for me,' and more slurs of 'my pretty girl cant get enough of this dick- fuck.' flowed out of his mouth easily as you scratched his back, the sting from your nails only excited him and pushed him to slam into your cunt harder.

leehans roughened thrusts and the mixes of praise and degradtion that kept falling out his mouth made the knot in your stomach tighten, reaching for the closest thing to hold onto- being him- you clung onto his shoulders with screams falling out your mouth. "leehanie! im so close- god- fuck! im gonna cum!" leehan chuckled breathily as his thrusts became untimed and sloppy, signaling he was close too.

"cum for me baby- please- be my good girl n cum all on my cock." he panted feeling your walls flutter and clench around his length. you arched your back and rolled your eyes as you let your orgasm take over. watching you cum so hard pushed leehan over the edge- landing one final thrust right into your g-spot as he filled you up with white ropes of his cum.

leehan held you close for a minute, laying with you as you felt your orgasms wash over. you giggled looking at his disheveled hair and you moved his hair out of his face to see his pretty low red eyes making him blush.

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itneverendshere · 3 months ago

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Can we get something along the lines of bartender reader maybe working at the country club and some guy has been hitting on her all night, he’s older, creepy, won’t leave her alone, getting drunker as the night goes on and she’s just trying to ignore him but she has to go to the supply closet later in the night or steps away for whatever reason and the guy follows her? reader is gone for too long and Rafe notices, finds her and stops the guy?? I need protective Rafe over reader 😍

ugh i hate creeps, literally felt ill writing this but for the sake of the story i did, bc it's unfortunately very common. thank you for the request lovely 🫶🏻🫂

throw away my faith just to keep you safe - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: unwanted advances; there's a creep.

It was just another Friday night, the usual crowd of kooks indulging in their weekly rituals of wealth and excess. For you, it was just another night behind the bar.

Wiping down the counter, you glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight.

Your shift was crawling toward the finish line, thank god, but the crowd promised at least another hour of pouring drinks and faking smiles. Not that you minded by this point — the tips were decent, and the job wasn’t hard. But sometimes, the clientele was more than you could handle.

“Another round for me, sweetheart?”

You turned toward the voice and visibly shuddered at the sight. There he was again — the guy who had been hitting on you all night, like a stupid plague. He was in his mid-forties, with thinning hair and a sleazy smile. He’d been getting progressively drunker, his advances getting bolder with every drink. You didn’t get paid enough to put up with this shit, but you also didn’t feel like getting fired for slapping someone across the face.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep it professional. “Sure. Another whiskey?”

He leaned closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Y’know you’ve got the prettiest eyes. Why don’t you come sit with me for a bit? I’m sure the bar can survive without you.”

Internally, you cringed. Outwardly, you kept your smile, though it was starting to drop. “I’m working,” You replied, “I can’t.”

He grinned like he hadn’t heard you — or maybe he just didn’t care. “C’mon, you can take a break. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You’d rather shoot yourself in the face. You turned away, busying yourself with grabbing his drink. You didn’t want to make a scene. You could handle this. You’d dealt with drunk idiots your entire life.

But something about him was different — he wasn’t just annoying, he was persistent, and you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

Rafe had checked in on you earlier, but you hadn’t seen him for a while. Normally, you could handle yourself, but tonight you really wished he was closer.

The guy’s drink slammed down in front of him harder than you intended, and you forced another smile. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawled, eyes dragging down your body in a way that made your skin crawl. “You’re too pretty to be stuck behind a bar. Bet you could find someone to take care of you, huh?”

You barely held back an eye roll as you turned away from him, grabbing the rag to wipe down the counter again just to have something to do with your hands.

The guy cleared his throat, leaning even closer over the bar. “How much longer do you think you’ll be working, sweetheart?” His voice was low, like he was trying to make it intimate, but it just made your stomach turn. “I’ll wait for you. We could have a little fun after you’re off. I know you’re not gonna go home alone tonight, right?”

“Yeah, I am,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear.

But he did.

“Aw, come on now, don’t be like that,” he said, his grin widening like you were joking with him. “I know girls like you — all tough on the outside, but once someone gives you a little attention, you melt.”

You slammed the rag down, turning toward him, patience leaving your body. “Look, I’ve told you, I’m working. And even if I wasn’t, I’m not interested. So how about you just take your drink and leave me alone?”

His smile dropped for a moment, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “You don’t gotta be a bitch about it, sweetheart,” he slurred, clearly not backing down. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

Before you could answer — or reach for the nearest object to throw at him — a familiar voice cut in from behind.

“How about you fuck off before I make you?”

You knew that tone. It was the one he used right before things escalated. Fast. You looked over to see Rafe standing just behind the bar, his jaw clenched and his eyes locked onto the guy in front of you.

His posture was tense, fists curled at his sides like he was holding himself back from jumping at the guy. “Rafe,” you called softly, reaching out to grab his arm. “It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

But he didn’t take his eyes off the man. “No, you don’t,” he muttered, stepping closer to the bar, “This guy’s been harassing you all night. He needs to leave.”

He looked Rafe up and down, taking in the expensive clothes, the look in his eyes, and the way his muscles tensed beneath his shirt.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, holding up his hands in a show of surrender. “No need to get all worked up. I was just talking to her.”

“You weren’t just talking,” Rafe snapped, “You were being a creep, and now you’re gonna get the fuck out of here.”

The guy opened his mouth to argue, but Rafe took another step forward, and whatever argument he had died in his throat. He grabbed his drink from the bar, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch before he turned and stumbled away toward the door.

Once he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Rafe turned to you, his expression softening immediately. “You okay, baby?”

You nodded, but your hands were shaking slightly. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for stepping in.”

He stepped closer, “You shouldn’t have to deal with assholes like that.”

“I can handle it,” you replied, “But I’m glad you were here.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed slightly, his thumb tracing soft circles against the skin in your arm. “I don’t want you handling it. I don’t want you dealing with that shit at all.”

You smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “It’s part of the job sometimes.”

“Not when I’m around, it’s not,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours.

You grinned, your fingers brushing over his collarbone as you tilted your head up to kiss him. His lips were soft against yours and when you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I’ll be fine for the rest of the night,” you whispered. “Promise.”

He exhaled softly, his arms tightening around you just a little. “I know. I just hate seeing shit like that happen to you.”

“Me too, baby.” you admitted, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “But at least the tips are good, right?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Only you would focus on the tips after that.”

“Gotta find the silver lining somewhere,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. This time it was deeper, and for a moment, you almost forgot you were still at work. When he pulled away, he glanced back toward the bar. “You need me to stick around?”

You shook your head. “Nah, I think your little display of alpha male behavior probably scared off any other creeps for the night.”

He smirked, looking a little too pleased with himself. “Good.”

“Go hang out with the guys,” you said, patting his chest. “I’ll see you when I’m done.”

He hesitated for a second, his hand still resting on your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go, but finally, he nodded. “Alright. But if I see him again…”

“You won’t,” you assured him. “And if you do, I’ll let you know.”

He gave you one last kiss, then reluctantly let you go and headed back toward his friends. You watched him for a moment, smiling to yourself before you turned back to the bar.

Forty minutes later, Rafe stood by the side of his truck, fingers drumming against the hood as he waited for you to finish up. He hated this place most days — hated how these old, rich assholes thought they could treat you like you were some kind of prize they could buy. It had taken everything in him not to knock that guy out earlier, but he knew you didn’t want a scene. Still, he’d been fuming ever since.

You’d be out any minute now, and the two of you would go to his house. He just needed to chill. But then, five minutes passed… then six… and a knot started to form in his stomach. You were never this late getting out, and you’d told him you’d be quick tonight.

Where the were you? He checked his phone again. Nothing.

Rafe pushed off the truck and started pacing, his eyes glancing between the front entrance and the locker room doors around the back. He knew you were still inside, but something wasn’t sitting right with him. His instincts were screaming at him now. After another minute, he couldn’t take it anymore. Fuck this.

He strode back inside and headed straight for the back hall that led to the locker room where you always changed after work. As he turned the corner, his heart stopped. There, right outside the locker room door, was the same asshole from earlier — the drunk creep who’d been hitting on you. His greasy hand was on the door, shoving it open, trying to force his way inside.

Rafe saw red.

Without thinking, he surged forward, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming him back against the wall so hard the drywall cracked. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The guy didn’t have time to react before Rafe’s fist connected with his jaw, his head snapping back against the wall. He stumbled, eyes wide with shock as he tried to raise his hands in defense, but Rafe didn’t give him a chance.

“You thought you could get away with that shit?!” He growled as he shoved him again, pinning him hard against the wall. The guy let out a choked gasp, his face going pale as he tried to squirm out of Rafe’s grip.

“I-I wasn’t—” the guy sputtered, his words slurred from the blow.

Rafe didn’t want to hear it. He threw another punch, this one harder than the first, his knuckles splitting against the guy’s cheekbone. All he could see was you — you, behind that door, completely unaware that this piece of shit had been about to force his way in.

“Rafe!”

He stopped his fist still clenched, inches from the guy’s face. He turned his head just enough to see you standing in the doorway, dressed in your usual jeans and a hoodie, eyes wide, like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

“Baby,” you said stepping forward. “It’s okay. He’s not worth it.”

But Rafe couldn’t let it go — couldn’t let the image of this creep forcing his way into the room where you were out of his head. The thought made him sick. It made him want to tear this him apart piece by piece.

“I should fucking kill you,” Rafe spat, his voice trembling as he pressed the guy harder against the wall.

“Please. I’m okay. He didn’t get in.”

It took every little ounce of self-control Rafe had, but he finally let the guy go, stepping back just enough for the asshole to crumple to the floor, groaning in pain.

“You come near her again, I swear to god…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The guy knew exactly what he meant.

The creep scrambled to his feet, clutching his bleeding face as he stumbled down the hallway, mumbling something that Rafe didn’t bother to listen to. His eyes were on you now, his breathing heavy as the adrenaline started to wear off.

His hands were still shaking, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, though your eyes were still wide, “I’m fine. He didn’t get in, baby. You stopped him.”

Rafe exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he tried to breathe properly. The thought of what could’ve happened if he hadn’t come inside when he did made him want to throw up. “I should’ve been here,” he muttered “I should’ve been right here with you.”

“Rafe, you can’t be with me every second,” you stepped closer to him. “You did the right thing. I’m okay. Really.”

But he wasn’t convinced. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, needing to know for sure that you were safe. His grip was tight, maybe too tight, but he couldn’t help it. “I swear to god, if he’d touched you…”

“He didn’t,” you murmured, your hands rubbing soothing circles on his back, “He's not going to."

He held you like that for a long moment, his heart still beating too fast, his mind conjuring everything that could’ve gone wrong tonight.

“No more working late nights here.”

You pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Rafe—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, “This place is full of creeps, and I’m not letting you deal with that shit anymore.”

You sighed, “We’ll talk about it.”

He didn’t argue — not now, at least. But as far as he was concerned, you weren’t coming back here. Not without him.

“What the hell is going on back here?”

You both turned to see Greg, your manager, striding down the hallway. He looked between you and Rafe, his eyes landing on the dented wall and the bloodied handprint smeared across it.

“Seriously, what the hell happened?” He barked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why is there a guy running out of here with blood on his face?"

Rafe stiffened beside you.

He didn’t like Greg — never had. In his mind, he was lazy, incompetent, and more interested in playing golf with the country club regulars than actually managing anything. You opened your mouth to try to explain, but he beat you to it.

“Why don’t you fix your goddamn locks, Greg?” Rafe snapped, stepping forward, “If you weren’t so busy kissing everyone’s ass, maybe you’d realize that your employees aren’t fucking safe here.”

Greg blinked, “What are you talking about?”

Rafe pointed to the locker room door, where the knob was still hanging loosely, as if the creep had almost succeeded in breaking it off.

“Your fucking locker room door doesn’t lock. That asshole was trying to force his way in while she was changing. What the hell are you running here, man?”

Greg glanced at the door, then back at you, his face paling slightly but instead of apologizing, or even showing the slightest bit of concern, he threw his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Look, I didn’t know—”

“Yeah, because you don’t pay attention to shit!” Rafe shot back, his voice rising. “You think you can just let her and the other girls fend for themselves? Is this the kind of place you’re running?”

“Rafe,” you murmured, your hand on his arm again, trying to calm him down. “It’s fine.”

But Rafe was far from calm. His hands were shaking, and his eyes locked onto Greg. “No, it’s not fucking okay. This shit keeps happening, and it’s gonna get someone hurt.”

Greg took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. “Look, I’ll… I’ll talk to the maintenance guys, alright? We’ll fix the lock.”

“Not good enough,” Rafe snapped, “You better fix it tonight. Because if this happens again, I’m not gonna be so nice next time.”

Greg swallowed hard, clearly shaken. “Y-Yeah. Fine. We’ll take care of it.”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. “You better.”

He turned his back on Greg without another word, grabbing your hand again as he led you toward the exit. His grip was tight, and once you were outside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“Rafe,” you said softly, pulling him to a stop as you stood by the side of his truck. “It’s over. I’m okay.”

He exhaled sharply as he looked down at you. “I can’t stand that guy,” he muttered. “He doesn’t give a shit about you or anyone else working here.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight, his chin resting on the top of your head. For a moment, he just held you like that, the tension slowly ebbing away. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit,” he murmured against your hair.

“I know. Let’s just go home.”

Rafe looked down at you, his brow furrowing slightly, “I’m gonna get you a gun.”

"A gun?"

"Yeah," Rafe said seriously, his grip tightening on your waist. “You need to be able to protect yourself if I'm not around."

"Baby, that's... kind of extreme," you tried to make him understand, "I don’t need a gun." You placed your hand on his chest, your thumb rubbing slow circles "I know you're worried. I know you don’t want me dealing with stuff like this, but a gun isn’t the answer."

He sighed, “I just want you to be safe.”

“I know,” you nodded. “And I will be. I promise.”

He held you close for a few more seconds, his forehead resting against yours. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he nodded. “Okay. No gun. For now.”

You smiled faintly, relieved. “Thank you.”

“But if it appens again, I’ll shoot him myself.”

“Okay, James Bond, get in the car.”

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gilverrwrites · 1 month ago

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idk if this is your thing but i've been thinking about reader and breastmilk. specifically, ak!jason finding out bat!reader has breastmilk after he rips off their chest uniform and then sucks the milk like a starving man and you could hear him gulping it down

Haha, BatBrat? Hero? Parent? Nah, now Jason’s got his hands on you he’s gonna turn you into his personal hucow, or maybe it’s a mommy thing? Who knows, you pick. Tbh, lactation isn’t a kink I’ve explored before but AK!Jason could do anything to me. ANYTHING! An’ I had fun writing something a lil different, so much fun in fact that it turned out way longer than I'd intended, so thanks for the ask, anon <3 Warnings: Dub/coerced-con, lactation, captivity/restraints, mild angst

At first, he’s just trying to antagonise you, at least that’s what he tells himself when he notices the discomfort in your stance; the way you keep awkwardly shifting, causing the chain around your neck to echo and clang as you gently pet your breasts, trying to hide the moisture seeping through your shirt with the backs of your hands until you finally plead; “You have to let me go… I… I need to pump.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” He spits, mouth-watering as he approaches your spot on the floor. There’s no chance he’s letting you go, but he’s certain he can solve your problem if you ask nicely enough.

“Please J-“ You hesitate for a moment, your doleful eyes searching his blue ones, unsure how to address your predecessor gone ‘bad’ before you fall on the same term his men have been using out of respect, or more likely fear. You’ve spent so many hours yelling and screaming at him that your voice cracks even as you attempt to sound softer. “Sir.”

You’re making an effort to appeal to him, looking up at him as non-threateningly as you can muster.

He pins it on your demeanour, not the fact that he’s lecherously enthralled by the way your tits are slowly leaking right before his very eyes. Whatever he wants to blame it on, it’s working. Nevertheless, his stance doesn’t change, he stands above you forebodingly, that same stern, unfriendly expression on his scarred face as he attempts to suck back his salivation.

“Please, I can’t stop it.” You continue. “It’s painful, I need relief.”

The irony isn’t lost on either of you, that you’re complaining about the pain of your overfull breasts, as you sit before him broken and bruised.

“Can’t let you go.” He reaffirms as he crouches down onto his haunches, almost eye to eye with you, but he’s not looking at your face as he reaches forward, hooking his fingers into the neckline of your shirt and pulling. “But since you asked so sweetly.”

“N-no! Wait. Not like this!” Your hands wrap around his forearm but with little purchase. Your cries are ignored, your feeble grip does nothing to slow Jason's strong hand and in seconds he’s running his gloved thumbs over your aching nipples, rubbing the damp cotton of your bra against the sensitive skin with a dreamy, far-off look on his face.

You swat at him until he retracts. For a moment a weight is lifted from your chest until you realise he’s simply removing his gloves. Unease quickly returns as he snaps open the centre of your bra, and despite yourself, a groan of relief escapes your lips. You fight the urge to relax into his strong hands as he begins to massage the underside of your heavy breasts.

“You don’t have to do this.” You try once more, but he looks up at you with a quirked brow, and a smile on his lips. He doesn’t have to, he wants to.

“I thought you were hurting.” He challenges, as his hands roam higher, finally, his bare, calloused fingers dig into the fat of your tits, he barely even has to squeeze before your milk begins to drip onto the backs of his hands. You squirm and grunt, staring at the ground, unable to make eye contact with him, too ashamed to accept the respite his hands are offering. “Thought you needed it.”

His voice is scathing, a taunt, despite the fact that you can see the outline of his throbbing dick, and the hunger in his eyes. The sight of you, all tired and timid, engorged tits exposed, is doing it for him. He wants this, bad, but what he wants even more is for it to feel like he’s doing something for you, a favour he can lord over you. Whatever keeps him in control.

“I can help you out.” Speaking slow and concise, his proposal could never be construed as kind. All the while he keeps palming at your chest in tender, measured motions, getting far too much of a kick out of the way you try to fight how his actions soothe you. “Or you can keep on suffering.”

He watches you expectantly, titling his head as a third suggestion comes to him. “Or, hey, I could invite some of my militia in here, I’m sure they’d get a kick out of watching B’s favourite brat spilling her milk everywhere. One of them might take pity and help you out. If that’s what you’d prefer.”

“No.” Obviously. He deliberately isn’t giving you a real choice in the matter. “Please help me.”

If he was thinking straighter, he might have spared you a snarky comment, or gone through the effort of making you beg explicitly for him. Something to really get under your skin, but he doesn’t want to wait any longer. With your permission he locks his lips around one of your nipples, cradling your breast in both hands as he begins to suck with a force far stronger than you’re used to. His teeth sink into your skin painfully and he closes his eyes, savouring the moment, the taste of your sweet milk. It’s like a switch is flipped, how his harsh features soften, his body slowly relaxing against yours as he greedily gulps down every drop he can squeeze out of your teat.

“Feeling better yet?” He asks at one point, speech slurred by his refusal to detach himself from you.

He watches you through half-lidded eyes as he awaits your answer, whispy black lashes only fluttering closed once more when you nod, only somewhat reluctantly. “Yes. Thank you.”

Though you’re sure his teeth might draw blood if he bites down any harder, your body does start to unwind, mitigated as Jason alleviates the internal pain. Neither of you really realise the change in yourselves until Jason is draped across your body, your arms around him in a cradle-like fashion as you stroke his hair; some kind of maternal instinct seemingly kicking in as you idly observe how The Big Bad Arkham Knight is pacified by your milk.

As soon as the well dries, however, his nails puncture your sore skin, and he glares up at you until you remind him; “The other one.”

He has the decency to look sheepish for his near-outburst, only for a second before he kneels back to change position, stopping briefly to remove the upper half of his armour, revealing how the scars don’t stop at his face. His torso is expansive, built with muscles and littered with taut, pale, overlapping lines. There are holes in his nipples, punctured at mismatched angles that have you suspecting they’re not from being pierced, at least not professionally.

What happened to you? You want to pry.

I’m so sorry. I wish I’d been there. I would have done something. Any consolations die in your throat, killed by the fear of how he’ll react. You’d learned quickly that the past was a touchy subject for him, a thread that when picked at can trigger a volatile reaction.

Before you can spend too long following that string, Jason distracts you. His jaw is locked tight, eyes judgemental as he watches you watching him until he starts to trail the tips of his fingers down the centre of his chest. The nervous edge of having your eyes on his marred body easing once you allow your gaze to be drawn to his crotch where he deftly unbuckles his belt and slips a hand into his boxers, squeezing at his needy cock.

“How about you milk me when I get done with you, huh?”

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pinkmirth · 1 year ago

Text

⸻ 𝑃ℛℰ𝒮ℰℛ𝒱ℰ!

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ the belmont family has endured for centuries, and it’s now up to richter to keep it going strong. there’s only one way to ensure the expansion of his bloodline, and it’s simple; knocking you up.

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ ( 6k+ words of . . . ) richter belmont x fem!reader, canon-divergent, set in the 18th century (1700s), nsfw/smut, porn with very little plot, established relationship, size difference, nipple play, handjob, panty-ripping, p-in-v, heavy breeding kink, many mentions of pregnancy, missionary, tummy bulge, lotus position, creampies, richie’s a bit cocky (when is he not!), use of pet names (e.g. darling, love, good girl, rich, richie . . .), richter calls reader a ‘ cockslut ’ once, explicit language, lowercase intended, black coded, minors shoo!

𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱ℰ-𝒩𝒪𝒯ℰ! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ after binging castlevania (nocturne), i instantly fell for that gorgeous man richter & his baby blue eyes >< he’s got a sharp mouth, a pretty face, and nice biceps– of course i’m in love with him! i just had to whip up somethin’ for my favorite belmont (dunno why, but i heavily believe their clan is crazy about breeding hmm) this was supposed to be an itty bitty drabble, but it ended up much longer than i thought it’d be . . . and might i warn you that this is mostly just sappy, nasty filth. now, please enjoy this smutty piece of work for richie! ❤︎

richter has made the renard household your favorite place on earth. more specifically, you’re fond of his homey bedroom. it’s got this olde charm to it, and a wide glass window with french-pinewood framing; one that offers a pleasant view of the grassy fields and neighboring stream that surround the cottage.

over anything else, his bed is surely the best part of it all. there’s a fluffy duvet in that dusty-blue color he likes, one so large that it covers his long legs even when they tangle between yours. the quilted mattress has just the right amount of space for two lovers, and is comfy enough to keep you warm throughout the night, considering the chance you might stay over.

though, there is a downside, as nothing can be perfect— it creaks far too much when he fucks you.

it’s not often that the both of you can make good use of that bed of his, especially when the noise makes things terribly obvious. you wouldn’t dare attempt anything improper in richter’s room with his adoptive family just a brief set of steps away.

there's a time for everything, but not that he cares. you try paying no mind to richter’s lingering touches along your waist, and how he mischievously dives underneath your bottoms to grab at the fat of your ass with a wicked grin; all as his aunt tera boils porridge and beans by the stovetop downstairs. you’re sure he finds joy in the risk, or more in provoking you.

it’s only when the house is empty, apart from you and richter and nothing else, that you can have your fun. like now, for instance. it’s out of pure luck that tera decided to pay a visit to the farmer’s market, and for maria to tag along with her mother as well. they mentioned something about wanting to buy the best of what the early-autumn harvest had to offer, with the meats being juiciest and the produce fresher than it’s been all year.

you believe that’s why richter’s got so much stamina— the plenty of food he’s been scarfing down lately. or, possibly, it could just be him . . . nothing but him, and his unexplainable belmont genes that make him fucking superhuman. he swears he’s normal, but the way he picks you up with such ease as soon as his family steps out the door can only be deemed as unnatural.

he's quick to sweep you off your feet, in the most abrupt way he can, of course. richter grins over the way you squeal as he whisks you past the kitchen, ‘round the table, and down the corridor. his hands work at keeping you upright, palms firmly planted under your thighs. he carries your weight like that of a feather and doesn't break a sweat. but considering where he’s headed, straight to his bedroom, that’ll soon change.

“don’t go getting all surprised on me,” richter voices a lighthearted whisper. he kisses the part of your neck that he can manage to reach from above the collar of your blouse, “you know what we do once we have the place to ourselves.”

“you snatched me off the ground without notice, i’ve all the right to be surprised— ohmygod, richter!” you sputter out a laugh, with his mouth on your flesh being so ticklish. you can feel his lips curving upwards, taking the shape of a smile. your arms fling around the back of his neck like second nature, fingers carding through his fluffy brunette hair. with zero patience, as always, richter kicks the door in with the shallow heel of his leather thigh-boot, slips into the room with you still in his arms, and shuts it closed by pressing you up against it.

he was right about one thing— once tera and maria leave, this is exactly how it goes. clothes are torn off with haste (mostly on richter’s end, as you could imagine), heated kisses are exchanged, and he spits the nastiest words with that sharp mouth of his in order to get you all worked up. the night sky and moonshine from the window gives his room this subtle tone of blue, but he makes you feel red-hot.

richter keeps you right where he wants you; held up by his unfiltered strength, with your back to the door. one moment, he’s drawing closer to you, raking over every detail of your face with nothing but admiration swirling in his eyes. by the next, his lips are moving languidly against yours, slightly unruly yet undeniably passionate. you wouldn’t dare admit how much of a damn good kisser he is. the man’s ego would fucking skyrocket.

though, you really don’t have to tell him anything. the way you reciprocate his affection says it all. he breaks away for a sparing moment, but not before bringing his tongue across your bottom lip in one playful swipe. it’s light, teasing, and completely of his nature.

“i can see it in your eyes, y’know.” richter chuckles at how you lean forward to chase after the warmth of his lips again. he brings you to your feet so he can slip off his fingerless gloves and undo any harnesses. he then crouches a bit to unzip his boots.

“see what?” you airily huff, haphazardly undoing button by button on your blouse until it’s completely open. similarly, he begins to make quick work of his top. you enjoy the flexure of his biceps as he pulls them out from the sleeves of his cerulean blue blazer-vest that he drops once free of, allowing it to scatter to the ground. you catch onto its emblem; the belmont crest, neatly embroidered upon the breast-pocket.

“how much you want this,” richter peers down at you, eyes gleaming the prettiest tint of blue. “it’s cute, how obvious you are.” his upper half is bare, and the smooth canvas of his chest is all can focus on while he closes in on you. you’re trapped between the sturdy door and his heated body, and you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

“you’re practically salivating over the thought of getting fucked, yeah? bet you wouldn’t mind if i took you right here.” he grins as he says it, staring unashamedly at how cleavage pools from your brassiere. richter creeps a finger underneath the strap, tugs it down and does the same with the other, dipping his head low to pepper your bare shoulder with feather-light pecks. before long, the bra’s at your feet.

“hm, but you’re no different,” you manage out, reveling in the warm lashing of his tongue against your nipple. it buds up the more he suckles at it.

“really, now?” he eventually parts from your breasts and rises back up to his full imposing height, carrying that faint smirk he forever wears. he looks so adorable this way— cheeks pink, lips spit-streaked. richter takes hold of your bottoms from either side of you, and swiftly brings them down with what you could only call pure impatience.

“yes, really. you’re just as desperate,” you counter him, reaching low to prove it. your palm grazes his bulge, and you give a few thorough squeezes; the kind that makes his mouth drop open.

“look at you, almost bursting out of your pants,” you quietly giggle, gazing up at him through the wisps of your lashes. richter wonders how you make such light fun while using your touch to undo him all at once. his breathing quickens, and it gets just a little heavier with your every attempt to caress his throbbing cock through his trousers. “seems like you need it more than i do, doesn’t it?”

“oh, fuck me . . .” richter whines, settling his head into the slope of your shoulder. your touch leaves him, just for a moment, to rid him of those restrictive pants. his cock springs free from its confines and bobs under its own weight. he’s got more length than girth; a good six or seven in size, with two thick veins running along the underside of him. the faint-pink tip prods at your thigh, staining your skin with precum.

he bucks against you hungrily, fingertips digging into the seams of your panties. you think you can hear them splintering apart. in the heat of things, he always winds up tearing your good underwear.

richter could ease into this moment and let your hand work him senseless, but there comes a time where he decides to end the charade. there’s also no knowing when his aunt and sister will return. he wants to make the most out of the unpromised time you have.

and so, he cuts your fun short with a mere rasp, “i’m through messing around with you. get on the fucking bed.”

no malice is found in his words; it’s just the height of his lust. you’d do as told, but richter’s already taking action into his own hands. with two, three— no, four steps, he’s standing at the bedside and splaying you across it. he snags off the remaining of your torn panties, left to suggestively decorate his floor. now, in all your naked glory, you’re bare and ready for him.

richter crawls over to you and kneels from above where you lay, situated closely between your legs. your thighs cushion either side of his lean hips. he leans down occasionally whenever you plead for a kiss, or wish to thread your fingers through his brown tousled hair. it now looks just a bit wilder than usual.

“c’mon— open, darling.” he hints at your legs, smoothing his warm palms down from your calves to your thighs. ever the compliant girlfriend, you part them nice and wide for his viewing pleasure. your cunt’s glossy and wet, clenching around nothing but the intangible air around.

‘oh, how pretty,’ he breathlessly murmurs, dragging two fingers across the expanse of your body. down, down, down, until they’re tracing along your slit. your dripping hole puckers against the pads of his index and middle, and you whimper when he threatens to push two inside.

“this wet, yet i’ve hardly done a thing,” his voice is ever boastful, “are you sure i’m the desperate one?” both fingers are suddenly replaced with his stiff erection, and he uses the precum-stained tip to catch onto your clit, resting warm and heavy against it. to that, you release a little ‘mm,’ and he taps against your puffy bud with the head of his cock— stopping once your hips start bucking for more.

“god, you just love to torment me . . . ” you huff out, vexation getting the best of you. “torment you? oh, never.” richter taunts, slotting himself between your puffy folds. he steers the way he glides against you by keeping a thumb at the base. “i just like to watch you squirm, is all.”

you know how to pry what you want out of him; a little bit of begging here, a small ounce of praise there. you lift your hips to grind against the underside of him, emitting soft moans whenever he rubs against your swollen clit just right, “richter, please. i really need your cock . . .”

“oh, baby,” he bites at his lower lip, giving in just as you expected of him. “i love it when you ask nicely.” in one fluid motion, he fits himself past the fleshy ring of your entrance and slips right inside. noise falls from you both; you’re gasping at the steady push, doing your best to accommodate every given inch, and richter’s letting small groans escape him, fingers digging into the tender flesh of your hips.

“always so fucking . . . tight,” he emits a shuddered breath, dropping his head to watch himself bottom out deep enough for his balls to nestle snugly against your ass-cheeks. you’re well connected now, to the point where his own pelvis has become sticky with your arousal. chestnut fringes drop into his view, and he sweeps his hair back with one hand threading through it.

“you’re taking it all so well this time,” he lifts his gaze to meet yours, a subtle grin playing on his lips. “such a good girl for me.” the connection between you two pulsates. he starts to build a delicious rhythm— drawing out for just a second, and pushing back in by the next. he watches you melt beneath him, your eyes sealed shut and mouth agape. a tangly string of moans tumble from your plush lips. richter’s no composer by any means, but the sounds he pulled from you is nothing short of beautiful music.

he’s without resignation tonight, and you notice his intensity when handling you. those naughty hands of his cup and squeeze and rub, his thrusts are fast, and you're sure that the resounding ‘smack!’ of skin-upon-skin can be heard from outside the window with how loud it’s become.

richter’s got your wrists bound above your head using the grip of only one firm hand, while he uses the other to keep your leg perched over his broad shoulder. his cock pushes deeper inside whenever he rolls his hips into your own, and your toes curl against the sheets with every stroke. when ramming in, his breath goes shaky at the sight of your body lurching, and pulling out makes his eyes roll back with how hard you’re clamping down on him, practically begging him to stay.

you’re soon to unravel, and you can tell he is too. his thighs begin to tremble, and his pace is less timely. nearing ecstasy, you already know what richter’s bound to ask you:

“where do you want me?”

without fail, he poses the same question by the near end of every session. and each time, you opt for the safe route, even though you secretly wish for more. your answer mostly varies on whatever position he’s got you manhandled in. bashfully, you’ll instruct him to cum over your ass if he has you bent over, or your tits if he’s been ogling them the whole night. sometimes, you’ll even let him decorate your pretty face with his seed— now that drives him mad, so much so that you always go another round or two afterwards.

but your true desire is, by far, much filthier than the rest. you’re nowhere near daring enough to plainly admit that you want his cum inside of you. as in, womb-filling placement. pregnancy-inducing, even.

though, something’s come over you tonight. you think richter’s finally ‘fucked you stupid’ the way he always cockily threatens to. or, maybe having him settled within you just feels too good to give up so soon. you don’t want him pulling out this time, you determine. what you need is for him to stay right where he is, to keep you stuffed whole with his warm love. all you want is for him to do it—

“inside,” is your breathless cry; a risky plea of the very thing he spends lone nights getting himself off to the thought of. richter isn't sure he heard you right— no, it must be a cruel figment of his perverse imagination. a bead of sweat's caught along his raised brow, those blue eyes of his carry a hooded glow, and his face, bearing a cutely furrowed look, grows pinker than before.

“what?”

“oh, god,” you whine, face gone hot. “richter, i . . .” the words melt off your tongue and fizzle into nothing.

“you . . ?” he plays around your hesitance, drawing out the word with some light goading. you sigh rather than responding, and it’s a dramatic one, because does he really have to make you repeat yourself? richter gazes down at you expectantly as he slows his movements, finding purchase on your waist to come to an unsteady pause. his fingers drum along your sides, awaiting more clarity.

your voice is small when you manage to confess, “ . . . i want you to cum inside of me.”

you think you can see the very moment that he fucking breaks. it’s like his resolve’s a porcelain vase, oh so delicate, and you’ve just pushed it to the floor and cracked it into a million tiny pieces. he releases this low groan, one that makes your pussy flutter at the sound of it. you can feel how rapidly his cock throbs from within you. you’re sure he’s about to paint them white.

“shit . . . you don’t mean that.”

“i do, rich. i want this.”

you blink up at him, pleading with glassy eyes and the very pout that makes his heart throb. god, he wants to kiss you so messily right now. and that he does— closing in to slot his lips against yours, working his tongue down your mouth, and separating with a distinct pop! you moan against richter’s lips as his clutch on your waist intensifies.

“you’ve gone ahead and finally drove me fucking crazy,” he thickly swallows, “you don’t know what you’ve just done to me, do you?” richter takes hold on both sides of your face, painless but firm. you mumble aloud what sounds like his name. he can’t be sure, as you’re muffled from the way his grasp is making your cheeks puff out.

“oh, darling, you don’t.” richter seethes, knowing how you like it when he gets a little mean, “because if you did, you’d know that spewing that kind of shit will make me fuck you like a senseless animal,” his toned body is hunched over yours, eliminating any space there once was between you, “that i’d fill up this greedy little cunt until you’re overflowing with my cum,” his octave drops, tone dangerous, “that i wouldn’t be able to stop until we’ve both passed out on this goddamn bed.”

“mmph, rich . . .” you weakly attempt, whining through your lips that he keeps pursed between his thumb and index that press into the fat of your cheeks.

“what was that, love? you wanna be stuffed with my cum?” his tone is a mocking one, but you dumbly nod anyway. he mirrors the rocking motion of your head, amused with your desperation, “fuck yeah, you do. can feel you getting wetter at the thought of it.”

you haven’t got it in you to feed into that typical banter with your boyfriend. you only want him to do just as he said and ‘fill you up.’ you're pawing at his bicep with one hand, and the other one clasps over the wrist of the hand he’s using to squish at your face. ‘want it,’ you start, fingers skimming across his arm, ‘so badly, rich!’

“fine, then. you’re such a needy thing,” he gives in, figuring you’ve endured just about enough of his teasing. richter holds himself by the base, and pulls back to trace your gaping hole with his cockhead.

“you asked for this,” he pants out, “to be fucking bred.”

just as before, his entrance is a smooth one; even if your grip on him is so taut that he can barely manage to move. you’re moaning again, aimlessly circling your hips in an attempt to match his movement.

patterns repeat themselves— like richter’s desperation that always manifests itself through harsh rutting. his mind goes blank every time he’s encompassed by your sweet, warm pussy. he aches for it, for you, as though he wasn’t just indulging. he was this close to release just minutes ago. the sensitivity is still there, you notice from how his tip pulses from within you. he’s been holding out on himself, trying to make this count.

richter dedicates the next several minutes to flipping and folding you into at least two different positions, bodies merging with a zealous haste. as always, the bed creaks and whines with every pivoted motion made upon it. nobody else is here to complain about it, so the noise is ignored rather than worried over. after all, there’s something gratifying about the sex being hard and thorough.

there’s more fervor behind his loving this time, and it’s because he’s got the end in mind. yes, the finishing is what he anticipates; once he can finally, finally pump you full of all the cum he has to offer. and maybe— no, definitely, he’ll have you knocked up after it’s done.

the prospect excites him more than it should; giving you a little bright-eyed belmont. richter’s always seen replenishing the sacred bloodline as a responsibility that only he alone holds. the very last one, he is. who else apart from him could return their clan to its original glory?

a good amount of years ago, as richter can’t bring himself to remember a particular number, his mother would present him with countless tales of their infamous family. how they’d slay monsters of the night with the utmost ease, gifted with holy tools and magic of old passed down throughout the centuries. he wouldn’t like to admit how much it’s gotten to his head; or moreso, how important he sees it to expand the family tree.

god willing, the pair of you will have babies, lots of babies, and mark the start of a new generation of vampyre slayers. it already helps that he loves to fuck you at any given chance. breeding you had always been lingering at the back of his mind, even back when the pair of you first coupled over ten months back . . . but he never really thought so deeply about it until you confessed your deep desire, and forced him to come to terms with his own.

“thinkin’ of you pregnant,” he reveals, voice honest and vulnerable, “god, what a beautiful sight. my woman, all round and full with my love . . . ”

“mm, that sounds— possessive,” you breathe out, body steadily rocking at the pace that richter’s set. you’re cracking your eyes open and sparing him a glance, just to see that he’s already staring back down at you. like you’re his everything, it seems. that twinkle in his eye is reserved for you only, and it makes you throb with want.

“oh, i’m sure it does.” he doesn’t bring himself to deny it. he wants you marked by him in every possible way. for anyone to take a glance at your rounding belly months from now and just know that he touched you thoroughly and fucked you right.

“but you should understand just how fortunate you are, baby,” he coos, “do you know how many bitches would kill for this seed you’re getting tonight? hm?” richter drones on, “you even sure you deserve it?”

he knows full well that you do. if there’s any woman on god’s green earth that he wants to give all his love to, it’s indisputably you. he’s simply rousing you up, making you ‘earn’ it. the man likes to tease, and you can’t help but enjoy being on the receiving end.

“well . . . you’re planning to give it to me, aren’t you?” even with him wrecking you, body sore and hair disarray, you're still able to check him. “i am,” he sighs, “and you’re gonna feel it all the way in here,” a large palm of his splays across your abdomen. from over your tummy, he feels the outline of his own cock, pressing in and sliding out before ramming it’s way back in again, courtesy of his rolling hips.

it spurs him on to see that he doubles you in size, so much so that his dick leaves a bulge. richter bets that he’s stretching out your cunt in the nicest way— just look at how you’re taking it with hazy eyes and quivering legs. no wonder you want his cum so badly; because who else throughout all of goddamn machecoul could give you such good orgasms? which other man could possibly fill you up with such valuable seed?

“i swear, m’gonna give you a baby,” is richter’s shaky promise, moaning throughout, and his cock throbs twice in a row. he’ll make you a carrier of the next generation of belmonts, he swears it. and oh, is he sure you’ll be an amazing mother. the thought makes his head buzz. he vividly pictures you, tender and swollen in the tummy and breasts, waddling around cutely due to carrying his very own child. he could cum just by thinking about it too hard . . .

and he does.

“oh, god, i’m gonna— oh, fuck!” his balls constrict, his pelvis becomes tightly-strung, and before he knows it, he’s emptying his thick load inside of you.

“yes, rich . . . give it to me,” you softly purr, allowing him to ease his weight onto you as he shudders from the high and his limbs go weak. from where he has his face smushed against your cushiony chest, he bites at your left breast while cumming some more. it spurts out in hot streams, accompanied by the twitching of his sensitive dick. he lazily humps against you, and a bit of semen seeps past your cunt, trickles down the length of him, and pours out onto the sheets beneath. you knew it’d be satiating to be filled to the brim.

he feels like he could fall asleep right here atop of you. even with his head’s swimming in a thick cloud of lust, and though the aftermath of his climax lingers, he’s still able to deliver slow rubs to your little bud.

“hope you’re ready for another,” he reaches down between you and swiping his graceful fingers across it, “because we aren’t fucking done yet.”

you hardly get a chance to bask in how nicely he’s loaded your womb, or the delightful tingle he brings when playing with your clit. richter, always a step ahead, uses his small bit of remaining energy to sit upwards with his back to the bedpost, and hauls you onto him so that you’re straddled over him just the way he likes. he gets the best view of your jiggling boobs this way.

“of course you still have it in you,” you lightly laugh. given his endurance, richter’s usually able to maximize his stamina through plenty of rounds. “i also wouldn’t mind being filled a second time . . .” you set your forehead to rest against his, bringing up a hand to swipe hair away from his gorgeous eyes, “i liked it.”

“and i loved it,” he’s quick to admit, “should’ve been finishing inside you long before now.”

you smile over his comment and wiggle your ass over his semi hard-on, growing stiffer with every sway of your breasts in his face. his hands are busy holding you from either side, so you go out of your way to stroke along his cum-dirtied cock, white dripping alongside it. he groans at your touch as you help him in finding your entrance. your mouth falls open when sinking down on him, and he rushes to lick and suck at your lips. for the third time tonight, he makes himself at home in your inviting cunt.

and so, it begins again; his ceaseless tempo. your partner's grasp is hot and strong, pulling you off and slamming you back down onto him however he pleases. you cry out for more, and he’s capable of giving it to you, so he does. richter pistons up into you— out, in, out, in, molding you to shape the very curve of his veined cock. blush colored a fiery pink scatters his face from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“again, richter,” you gasp out, “cum inside me again . . !” oh, just look at that. now he’s built you a rotten little addiction. from here on out, you’ll probably always be left craving the fulfillment gained from him dumping his load into your pussy. personally, he doesn’t mind sating you. if it eases your mind and satisfies your heart, of course. after all, he’s surely developed a new kink of his own after tonight.

“oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you, cockslut?” his fingers dip between your bodies to slide against your clit once more, “to let me impregnate you again, and again, and again . . .” he punctuates his sharp words with the lurch of his sturdy hips, knocking up into you until you’re jolting in his lap, breasts bouncing against his solid chest.

he doesn’t mean to come across in an offish way, or sound so mean. it’s just that when he gets like this, with your warm body so pliant at his fingertips, his mouth just tends to . . . run. more than usual, he supposes. the belmont just says whatever comes to mind, no matter how vulgar.

richter’s bright blue eyes follow the motion of your tits with every thrust. he slams in, hips pressed to you as close as it can get. he’s burrowed into you so deeply that his curly patch of dark pubes friction against your bundle of nerves. he’s twitching at the underside for every time your velvety walls suck him in further. you’re trying to milk him fucking dry, he believes.

there’s only so much stimulation that the pair of you can take in one night alone.

‘goddammit’ he grits out. before long, richter’s fucking you full of another stream of cum. his orgasm, hot and blinding, triggers your own; you’re creaming all over him, wetting his cock with the juices you squirt out. you’re sobbing out his name and shaking in his lap, so he holds you. a secure hand of his comes up and cradles your head to his chest, stroking your hair and calming your spent body, even as the orgasmic waves rush through you.

a silence comes over his quaint little room, where the ambience was once intense with the steamy air of sex. a chill autumn breeze blows its way through the cracked-open window, cooling your sweat-sheen skin. his dusty-blue sheets are stained with all kinds of suggestive white fluids, and the bed has stopped making all that noise.

you’re still placed over his thighs in the same straddling stance, one you both feel much too tired to get out of. he tries at maneuvering so he can lie on his back, with you motionlessly laid over him. your breathing is soft and winded, but your heart’s beating fast. he can feel it, with the way your chest is pressed to his own in this position.

richter eventually slips out, and you whine once he leaves you. he peers down and groans at the spillage of his potent cum, pearly and warm, dripping from your messy little cunt in thick globs. ‘christ,’ he thinks, ‘it’s so fucking much.’

he presses a kiss to your forehead, and it stirs you from the sleep you were just about to fall into. “what do you say to me, darling?”

“hmm . . what?” after all those rounds, you’re not here mentally, and he knows it— he’s why. but with the light smirk his lips hold, you’re finally able to get it. he’s waiting for a:

“t—thank you,” you murmur out, and he tsks.

“oh, c’mon, be specific. thank you for what?”

he's simply insufferable. oh, but you love the man, so you'll let him have his way, just for tonight.

“thank you for . . giving me your cum, richter . . .”

he hums in what appears to be satisfaction. it sounds like the prettiest set of words when falling from your lips. he’d fuck you again if the both of you weren’t completely spent.

richter brings a hand to support the back of his head, propping it up a little higher than the pillows can. you snuggle into him, face nuzzling against the firm comfort of his chest, and he throws his arm over your waist, feeling at the plush skin there with a wandering touch.

his palm slides a bit further down, now planted gently against your stomach. it’ll start to grow in a little while, and get real big and plump with your baby fostering inside. maybe they’ll have your nose and complexion, with his eyes and attitude . . . he lets a grin overtake his lips, feeling more than accomplished.

“you’re a lucky fucking woman,” richter coos, hand lovingly rubbing over your tummy, “you’re gonna be carryin’ belmont blood now.”

tags go out to . . . ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ @blushfwul @springmarcheson @missmagicalprincess @kaennih-skitlles @divin3bloodlines! hope y’all enjoyed, mwuah! ❤︎

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2amriize · 5 months ago

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Riize finding out about your crush on them through another member 😝😝

oh this was so fun to write! tysm for the request, hope u like it ^^

˚⟡˖ when they found out your crush on them through another member — RIIZE

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

note i made it a little bit longer than usual, so hope yall like it ♥

genre fluff, crack ?

pairing riize x reader

ᯓ★ SHOTARO

You knew Shotaro because you had mutual friends and would often see each other at birthdays or parties they organized. You hadn’t spoken to him much, but seeing how sweet and cheerful he was with everyone made you develop a little crush on him.

Even though he’d been your crush for over a year, you still hadn’t confessed, and you didn’t intend to. You knew how difficult and awkward relationships between friends within the same group could be. Besides, you didn’t really think Shotaro reciprocated your feelings. He treated you well, but that’s how he treated everyone, really.

Out of your group of friends, the only one you’d talked to about this was Sungchan, as he was your closest friend, but he was also very close to Shotaro. In reality, you hadn’t meant to tell him; it just slipped out right before going to a birthday party. Oh, you were screwed.

You really valued Sungchan, but you knew very well that he was terrible at keeping secrets. ‘I swear I’ll try not to spill it in front of him… or anyone else.’ His words didn’t sound convincing, but you had no choice but to trust him.

But, well... the secret didn’t last even two hours with Sungchan. He and Shotaro were alone in the kitchen making some drinks when Sungchan let it slip.

‘What? What do you mean y/n told you she likes me?’

‘Uh… did I say that?’ Even Sungchan was surprised at how little time he managed to keep the secret.

Shotaro stood there for a few seconds, trying to process the information, then laughed and hugged Sungchan excitedly.

‘Wow… I didn’t think she was interested in me at all’

ᯓ★ EUNSEOK

“He is so fine,” you murmured as you stared directly at a spot in the cafeteria where Eunseok was sitting.

“Huh? Who are you talking about?” asked Shotaro, who was eating with you. “Eunseok again?”

“Yeah...” you whispered, looking at the guy sitting at a table away from the crowd with his friends.

Who didn’t have a crush on Eunseok? Basically, everyone in your class was in love with him, and you were no exception. Shotaro was tired of hearing you talk about how handsome and tall Eunseok was, and he always ended up asking you, “Why don’t you ask for his number?” You simply didn’t have the confidence, and you didn’t want to bother him either. Every week, someone approached him to ask for his number, and apparently, most of the time, he didn’t give it out. So, why even try?

After eating, you were in the hallway with Shotaro, chatting before heading to class when Eunseok walked by.

“Oh, there’s the handsome guy you like,” Shotaro said way too loudly, and you looked at him in shock, hoping Eunseok hadn’t heard. But he did.

He turned to you and looked directly at you. “Huh? Are you talking about me?”

“No... it was… we were talking about...” His gaze on you made you nervous.

“So, can I ask the pretty girl I like for her number?”

ᯓ★ SUNGCHAN

You and Sungchan were inseparable. Wherever he went, you went. If he was invited to a party, you were invited too. You got along too well. And to be honest, you also had a massive crush on him. The problem? Everyone knew. Except for him.

When it came to these things, Sungchan wasn’t very witty, or maybe he just didn’t want to notice. You also preferred that he didn’t realize because you liked the friendship you had.

Still, every time you went to a party, everyone joked about how obvious it was that you liked Sungchan. “Are you ever going to make a move? Why don’t you ask him out?” were things that were never missing from a conversation between you and Sohee.

And that day at Sungchan’s house party was no different. Sohee kept telling you that you had to confess that night or at least try to kiss him. But you refused; you simply couldn’t do it.

At one point during the night, someone bumped into you, spilling your drink on your shirt. When Sungchan noticed, he offered to give you one of his shirts to change into, so you both went to his room together.

While he was rummaging through his drawers, you could hear Seunghan and Sohee’s voices in the hallway.

“Do you know where Sungchan is?”

“Hmm, I saw him go off with y/n a while ago.”

“Oh… finally, y/n is going to confess.”

The conversation could be heard clearly from Sungchan’s room, and when you heard it, you both looked at each other in silence, both surprised and not knowing what to say. You could feel your cheeks getting warmer by the second.

“Were you... going to confess?” Sungchan asked, still looking at you before crossing his arms. “Isn’t that something I’m supposed to do?”

ᯓ★ WONBIN

Spin the bottle. You hated that game. Why was there a game where you had to kiss people you didn’t like? Or worse, where you had to watch the guy you liked kiss other people?

But there you were, sitting in the circle, praying that the bottle would stop on Wonbin and you.

You had liked Wonbin since you first saw him at Eunseok’s house, but you had never spoken to him. Eunseok knew about your crush on Wonbin, which is why he suggested playing spin the bottle while giving you a mischievous look. What was he planning? Then, before the game started, he said, “Okay, let’s change the rules a bit. Whoever the bottle points to can choose who to kiss.” He said this while looking at you with a smile. Oh god...

A few rounds passed until the thing you feared the most happened—the bottle pointed at Wonbin. What if he didn’t choose you? What if you had to watch him choose someone else and kiss them?

“Oh, umm… I don’t know who to choose, honestly,” he said with a slightly awkward smile.

“I know someone who would love for you to choose them,” said Eunseok, and you quickly looked at him.

Wonbin, confused, also looked at Eunseok. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“I think y/n has been waiting for a kiss from you for a while.”

Oh god. How embarrassing. You could feel everyone staring at you. How could he say that in front of everyone? Oh, but what you didn’t expect was to hear Wonbin’s response: “Oh, if it’s y/n, I would love to.”

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN the office reference!

You’d been working as a receptionist in an office for a few years and had become close friends with one of your coworkers, Seunghan.

Seunghan worked as a salesman, and his desk was just a few meters from yours, so you were constantly exchanging looks and joking around all day.

Many times, he would take the opportunity to come over to your desk when he finished his work and always asked if you wanted to have lunch with him.

But that was it. You only interacted with him inside the office; you had never hung out outside of work. Neither of you had ever suggested it.

Besides, you didn’t want your relationship to become awkward if you suggested going out after work. What if he thought you were asking him out on a date? Well, that’s what you would be doing, but that wasn’t something that crossed your mind.

Today, when he came over to ask if you were having lunch together, you had to turn him down, “A friend is coming, and I was going to have lunch with him.” His face completely changed, “Oh, no worries,” he said before going back to his desk.

When your friend Anton arrived, you got up to greet him, noticing Seunghan’s gaze on you both.

“So... which one is the Seunghan you talk so much about?”

“Anton… what are you saying?” you said, giving him a small tap on the arm. Clearly, Seunghan had heard you because he couldn’t help but smile after hearing that.

ᯓ★ SOHEE

You couldn’t stop talking about Sohee to Wonbin. Sohee was a barista at a café you always went to near your dance academy. Every time you hung out, you would talk about how cute you thought he was, and it was something that was starting to annoy Wonbin.

“Why don’t you tell him? If you don’t, I will,” he would always say to you, and you would laugh, thinking it was a joke.

Oh well, it wasn’t.

You were having a drink after spending the whole afternoon practicing, and it happened that Sohee was working. You couldn’t stop looking at him; everything he did seemed so adorable to you. How could he be so cute?

Wonbin couldn’t stand seeing you staring at Sohee all the time, so he took the opportunity to approach the guy when you went to the bathroom.

“Hey, this might sound weird, but do you have a girlfriend by any chance?”

“Huh?” Sohee responded, looking at him confused.

“Oh, it’s not for me. You know the girl who’s with me? Well, she has a bit of a crush on you.”

“Really? I thought you two were dating.”

“Iugh, no… but then, could you give me your number? I mean, for her?”

Sohee chuckled a little and wrote his number on a napkin without hesitation.

When you came back from the bathroom, you saw the napkin, so you looked at Wonbin, confused. “What’s this...?”

“Thank me later.”

ᯓ★ ANTON

You were in the living room of one of your friends’ houses when Seunghan suggested playing charades but with a twist.

“Let’s play by also putting some of our names in.”

It seemed like a fun way to play, so everyone agreed. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw that Anton had gotten your name.

Anton had been catching your attention for the past few weeks, so you could say you had developed a bit of a crush on him. You just loved the way he talked to you; you could have conversations with him for hours and hours. But nothing more had happened, just conversations. The only person you had told about your crush on Anton was your best friend, Seunghan, though the rest of your friends had also noticed how nervous you got around him.

After several rounds, Anton couldn’t figure out who he was.

“Hmm… Am I someone here, right? Do I like anyone here?” he asked, and you looked at Seunghan, surprised by that question.

“Oh, sure you do,” he said, letting out a small laugh.

How could he ask that? He started asking in every round if he liked X person, until he ran out of options.

“Who’s left? Oh wait… I like myself? I mean, I like Anton?”

“That’s it” said Seunghan, while looking at you.

Anton noticed that Seunghan was looking at you, but it took him a few seconds to realize what that meant.

“So... I’m y/n? I didn’t expect that...” he said, laughing, while you were embarrassed.

#riize #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize sungchan #riize shotaro #riize anton #riize reactions #riize wonbin #riize smau #riize sohee #riize seunghan #riize eunseok #riize fluff #2amriize #riize one shot #riize one shots #2amriizerequests

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