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joeloverture · 5 months

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hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax.

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing.

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky.

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining.

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down.

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…”

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee.

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head.

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.”

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel.

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?”

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

“Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips.

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become.

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel.

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily.

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him.

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is.

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!”

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller/f! reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic

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cameronspecial · 3 months

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Really, Rafe?

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Couple Arguments and Angst

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: What is supposed to be a romantic getaway starts to feel like something else when Y/N realizes the type of activities the resort has.

A/N: Inspired by this post (Totally not because Tom Holland liked the post).

Masterlist

One rule in their relationship is that Y/N and Rafe take turns planning dates. Everything from small picnic dates to large vacation dates. This time, it is his turn to plan a vacation. When it comes to holiday trips, it doesn’t have to be far or grand. It could be a small thing, as long as it is a getaway from their normal life for at least two days. The last one they went on was when they both went to a small beach house in Myrtle Beach. Y/N was lucky enough to have found a private rental away from most of the city’s commotion. It was just the ocean, cocktails and the two of them for a week. It was absolute Heaven. As she watches the scenery pass by, Y/N can’t help her excitement as to where they are going. “Can’t you tell me where we are going?” she pleads. Her eyes are as big as dinner plates. He gently squeezes her thigh and throws her a smile, “That’s a secret for me to know and for you to find out.” She giggles with a shake of her head. “That is such a cliche saying.” He shrugs, “So? It still doesn’t mean I am going to tell you.” She gives him a playful pout and continues to look out of the window.

Ten minutes later, the dense forest turns to equally placed decorative trees and the paved road turns to decorative stones. He parks the car and steps out to open the door for her. She takes in the castle-like resort. The golden trimming and fascia remind the girl of Versailles. She imagines all sorts of things they can do together. Sit by the pool with a drink in hand. Relax thanks to the hands of a masseuse. Dine in fairytale-like restaurants. It takes her breath away, but only for a second because she finally spots the real reason why they are here. To the right of the building are expansive green plains with people of various ages swinging back a club to send the ball flying through the air. Y/N notices Rafe isn’t by her side and turns to find him unloading his golf clubs from the trunk. He packed the trunk, so she didn’t notice it. Disappointment falls over her as it all clicks into place.

“Really, Rafe?” she disgruntled. Her arms cross over each other and her right hip juts out. He looks at her with a tight-lipped smile, “What? This place has a great high tea evening, which I know you’ve been dying to try. And they have an indoor and outdoor pool that you could take advantage of. Plus, a great spa package for you to try.” This man is really digging his own grave. She lets out a bitter laugh. “You do realize through your whole little spiel, you always said you. Never we, like you expect me to do all those things by myself while you go off and spend all your time with your golf clubs,” she argues. Rafe’s eyes widen, “No, Sugar, you got it all wrong. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, I planned on doing all those things with you. I promise I just brought my clubs in case you got sick of me and I need to give you some space.” She didn’t believe him. Not when a previous experience told her otherwise. It may have been four years ago when they started dating, yet a girl never forgets. Rafe had planned a date at a football bar. It would’ve been fine if his sole reasoning wasn’t to be surrounded by TVs to watch the game. Halfway through the date, other football fans joined their table to watch the event with him. She felt so ignored and unimportant during that hour. She left the date without so much as a goodbye.

She wouldn’t have seen him again if it wasn’t for how apologetic he was. He expressed remorse through his words and then flowers. She eventually forgave him, agreeing to another date. However, she never forgot the way that she felt in that bar. The humiliation of walking away from a man who paid her no attention. Up until today, she never regretted the decision to give him a second chance. Now, she feels the same way. She worries he didn’t listen to her concern about them not being able to spend a lot of quality time with each other because of how busy they have been with work. It’s the reason why they decided to go on this two-week getaway. To reconnect with each other and they couldn’t do that if he planned to spend all his time on the course. “Sure, that’s totally why you did it. If you didn’t want to spend time with me, Rafe, you could’ve told me. I would’ve given you the space and you wouldn’t have had to drag me with you here,” she criticizes, storming into the hotel to calm down.

———

For the past five minutes, she has been cooling herself down in the resort lobby. Rafe has been at the front desk, probably checking into their room. She doesn’t know if she should stay or just call a cab to take her to the nearest train station. She watches as he points in her direction and the receptionist gives him a nod. The woman removes herself from behind the counter, walking over to Y/N with a smile. “Excuse me, Ms. Y/L/N? Could you please follow me to the front desk?” the receptionist, named Kate according to her name tag, asks. Y/N hesitates to nod, yet still obeys the request. Once at the front desk, Y/N keeps her distance from Rafe. Kate types into her computer and turns it toward the female guest, “Mr. Cameron requested I show you all the bookings he made for stay here.” Rafe’s girlfriend stares at him with narrow eyes and he leans in to whisper in her ear. “I didn’t tell her what happened. I just asked her to show you what I booked.” She gives him a small nod, turning her attention toward the screen.

The list is long, but it is easy to recognize a pattern. Everything is reserved for a couple and not a single one is a tee-time reservation. She couldn’t argue that he had Kate remove his tee times because literally every single minute between nine in the morning and seven in the evening had something planned. She made a horrible mistake and accused Rafe of not caring about her. She turns to him with teary eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you, Rafe,” she apologizes, wrapping her arms around him. He lets her snuggle into his neck and wraps his arms around her waist. His lips rest on her forehead, “It’s okay, Sugar, I know I was really an ass on that date so long ago. I mean I can’t say I’m not hurt that you still think I could still be that idiot, but I am grateful every day that you chose to forgive me. Which means that I have it in my heart to forgive you too. I love you.” She presses her lips against his. “Thank you for forgiving me. I love you too.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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hellishjoel · 9 months

Text

little black dress

10k / pairing: bartender!joel x f!reader

← masterlist

summary: You’re breaking things off with your douchebag situationship at one of your favorite little dive bars because lord knows you’re gonna need a drink or two. The bartender, Joel, is happy to offer his assistance.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, swearing, alcohol consumption, slight angst, toxic ex-boyfriend putting hands on you, dom!Joel, dirty talk, pet names, oral (f receiving), titty attention, unprotected p in v (wrap it up pls), I think that’s it!

A/N: I’ve held this in my vault for WEEKS. Thank you to @strang3lov3 and @macfrog for helping get this piece to completion! I quite literally couldn’t have done it without them and without their input and encouragement. Also -- this is my first 10k fic! how exciting!!

here's my masterlist!

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications get updates on my fic postings**

Your breaths grow heavy with impatience, waiting to feel him. Him soaking up your slick wasn’t enough. He finally got the hint as your hips rutted back into this touch, hearing his hellish low chuckle at your desperation. “So-” your breath hitches as you feel his tip nudge in, “fuckin-” you clench your eyes closed as his first few inches break you in two, your jaw dropping, “tight.” He bottoms out in one swift thrust, filling you up to a level you didn’t even know you possessed. “Joel!” A broken cry unleashes from the depths of your throat, you didn’t need to see him to know how big he is. You can fucking feel every single inch of him.

You had never gotten dressed up for a breakup before.

As you looked yourself over in the mirror, you were reminded of what you discussed with your friends last night.

You felt a little on edge when you revealed to your friends over a girl’s night that you wanted to break up with your short-term boyfriend Chris. The relationship was only a couple of months old, but the guy was a douchebag. And you realized it too late.

“He was such a waste of your time.”

“Oh my god, he was an asshole to you.”

“Girl, I hope you do a revenge breakup on his sorry ass.”

“A revenge breakup?”

Ahh, yes. The revenge breakup. For wasting your time, efforts, and emotions on Chris, you deserved to have a little fun in the form of revenge. You’d put on your favorite little black dress, do your hair and your makeup, wear a red lip, and show him that you don’t need him.

But now as you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, you felt like you were playing dress up. You weren’t really this confident, this bold. But your pouty red lips said otherwise. Your favorite perfume said otherwise, as well. After a slow turn in the mirror, long legs on show with a short black dress adorning your curves, you decided you would be a man-eater tonight.

You would have preferred to break up with him over text, but you decided you were together for a little too long not to break things off in person.

Despite what you looked like on the outside, your heart was a tangled mess of emotions.

When you first met Chris at one of the fancy bar lounges on the east side, he was the standout of his friends. Tall, blessed with dark blonde hair, perfectly clean-shaven, still dressed in a work suit to join in on the Friday night happy hour. You quickly learned a lot about him. He had an apartment in the city, but his permanent residence was in the neighboring state. He liked golf, basketball, and football. He was a family guy, close with his parents. After buying you a drink, he told you he worked at a finance agency, a large one at that.

The professionalism in itself made you swoon. You couldn’t help it, he seemed put together and men who had a plan were attractive to you.

Needless to say, you went home with him after he was whispering in your ear all night long, his large hand planted possessively on your hip, derailing any other guy in the room who thought about trying a conversation with you.

It could have stopped there, should have stopped there. But he was smart, and his face wore a permanent smirk that put you in a destructive tailspin. So you kept seeing each other. He took you out on lunch dates, got you into the trendy clubs, and put the two of you up in hotel suites from time to time for a nice weekend away.

It was fun while it lasted. His charm eventually wore off, and you realized he was just… a completely selfish douchebag.

You were ready to break things off.

And so it was decided. You looked hot. Too good for him. Your roommate insisted that she could come with you for moral support dressed as a casual bargoer, watching the show for herself behind a bar menu. The idea made you bubble up a laugh, but you really wanted to do this yourself, for yourself.

Your stomach was in knots the entire Uber ride over, leg crossed over the other as you drew shapes into the material of your clutch. You wanted to arrive a little earlier than the set time with your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend-fling, needing a drink or two of encouragement.

The Blackbird was a corner bar that had survived the rapid changes of downtown for the past ten years, or so. Initially around when there was a small gas station on the opposite corner, now it was neighboring a family diner and a video rental shop.

As soon as you enter down the cement stairs and through the dark green door, you’re greeted by a stage to your right where local bands came in and played. After walking past the pool tables that desperately needed new felt, you pass an old golden jukebox that was playing 80s dad rock. It fit the atmosphere, you had to admit. Some Guns N’ Roses started to play after just finishing a Twisted Sister song.

Maybe it was the fact that you were entering into a small dive bar, easily becoming the best-looking person there by a mile and a half, but it was the confidence you needed.

Eyes were on you, a small smile fluttering on your lips at the discovery.

Cigarette smoke filled the air, your heels clicking casually against the hardwood floor as you used the space as an off-duty catwalk. Pool balls clattered, matching the fast-paced beating of your heart.

The Blackbird Bar offered little lighting, aside from the bulbs that hung above the pool tables and a few old neon signs. The walls were decorated in well-loved decor like old license plates and tacky bar signs. There was a $1 bill hung up in a frame, most likely the first bill the bar had ever made. It's a crowning little achievement in all of its dust-covered glory.

The bar stools could use new upholstery and a fresh coat of paint might do the wall wonders, but people didn’t come here to enjoy upscale aesthetic and fruity drinks. They came for cheap booze and company from the regulars.

An empty string of barstools waited for your company at the end of the long bar, your eyes adjusting to the darkness the bar was veiled in.

Your fingernail traced over the slight scratches on the bar’s surface, someone clearing their throat knocking you loose from your thoughts.

“What’ll y’ have?”

Your head was so clouded with what you might say during your impending breakup that you didn’t think of what you wanted to drink. You could really use some liquid courage.

“Uhm..” You paused as you looked over the bartender, your eyes adjusting as you watched him clean a glass with a rag before he tossed the cloth over his shoulder.

He was older, a little shaggy looking. He wore a tattered dark green henley with a waffle print, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You ordered your go-to drink, slowly swirling your straw around the ice as you anxiously watched the clock tick closer and closer to your planned time.

“Hey beautiful.” Shit, he was early.

Your eyes widened as you quickly set down your drink, signaling to the scruffy bartender and tapping at your glass to request another.

Chris entered your space with a charming smile, his pungent cologne instantly piercing your senses as your eyes gazed over his square jawline.

“Hey.” You teetered on your seat, adjusting the hem of your dress, feeling that it was all of a sudden far too short for the evening. Like it was shrinking up your body.

Chris quickly picked up on your not-so-warm greeting, his head cocking as he set down his jacket on the bartop.

“Interesting pick for the bar. I could’ve taken you somewhere uptown.”

The comment made your gut clench, especially since the bartender was right in front of the two of you, making your drink as he silently listened to every word.

“I actually really like this spot. Feels less pretentious than uptown.” You bit back, maybe a little too much venom in your comment.

Chris playfully threw up his hands in surrender, smirking down at you as he took in your appearance. Slightly smeared red lipstick and an all too tight black little dress.

“Alright, uptown is pretentious now, I’m glad you updated me.” His comment was snide but laced with a hint of teasing, your hand instantly reaching for your drink once it was crafted by the bartender. You mutter an apologetic thank you.

“Hey,” Chris spoke up as he raised two fingers to flag down the bartender. “Can I get-”

Before he could finish, the bartender had walked off further down the bar lane, grumbling under his breath as he went to fulfill another customer’s order. Chris scoffed and tried to brush it off but it made you smile. Well deserved.

Once Chris finally did receive his drink, a corona with a lime, he started to tell you about his week in the office. Unprovoked.

Apparently his coworker was brutally fired, his department was on their third secretary within the year thus far, and he was up to his ears with his end-of-the-month reports.

You weren’t sure what drink number you were on. The bartender kept giving you glances every time he poured your glass back up, his eyes signaling to Chris as he kept speaking over you. He looked just as annoyed as you felt.

“And Chambers is just.. all up my ass about finishing it ahead of schedule but I keep telling him, y’know, Dude, it’s not due until Monday. Get off my ass about it. Right? Right?” Now he was laughing like his life, and his story was really all that interesting. Like everyone was hanging onto every word he ever said with enthusiasm.

He kept wagging his beer around in his hand as he spoke, using mannerisms to go with his exquisite storytelling.

You muster up a noise to give him some sort of implication that you were interested. However, the more you drank, the more you realized how uninteresting he actually was. Who talks at someone like this for 45 minutes? When did he ask you a question about you? Did he know shit about you?

“Hey,” your voice sounded power drenched which quickly captured his attention. His eyebrows raised as if you were interrupting his train of thought.

“Do you remember what I told you I studied in school?” Your head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed on his. Despite the volume in the bar, you could still feel your heart thumping in your ears.

He tried not to look phased by your question. After a pause on his end, he mustered up an awkward chuckle before clearing his throat, shifting back and forth on his feet.

“How long have I lived in the city?”

You watched as his eyes flicked off to the side, his lips parting as if he was hoping the right answer would just come to him.

“Uhm..”

“Uhm?” You mocked, a nasty smirk on your lips. It was taunting.

The more he couldn’t answer your questions, the angrier you got. You mocking him seemed to get his blood boiling.

“What do I do for work? What are my hobbies?” Your red lipstick kissed the straw as you took another sip while you waited, crossing your leg over the other as your foot casually bounced while you watched him squirm.

You continued to roll out question after question. You enjoyed watching him writhe under your scrutiny, finding out that he didn’t fucking know you at all.

Someone you considered to be so put together, so refined, and so charming was really just a douchebag clown masquerading in a suit.

The grip on your drink tightened, and you’re not sure if it was the alcohol or the anger you bore, but something gave you the nerve to throw the remnants of your drink on him.

The liquor splashed across his white button-up shirt first, your half-melted ice cubes followed by pelting his chest.

Satisfaction and surprise filled your gut, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you tried to hide a laugh. The crowd of regulars watched from a distance, a few gasping while a few others snickered.

He looked furious.

“You fucking-- bitch! What the hell!” He was still shaking off ice cubes, pieces of his blonde hair falling down and presenting him as disheveled.

“If that wasn’t answer enough for you, I don’t want to see you again. We’ve been on countless dates, and you don’t remember a damn thing about me.”

You didn’t care that people were watching, you were putting on quite the show for them in your little revenge dress.

Chris scoffed at you in disbelief, shaking off the liquid that clearly stained through his shirt. You could feel your chest swell with a sense of pride and courage. Your body felt warm, stained with confidence as red as your lipstick.

“You’re fuckin’ sick, you know that? You’re a fuckin’ psycho!” He was nearly laughing at you, the insults scraped at your throat and made your confidence cut down an inch.

“Just-- get the fuck out of here, I don’t want to see you again.”

Suddenly, something you weren’t expecting was his hand tightening around your forearm. It stung, his iron grip burning into your flesh so hard that your fingertips already felt numb from the lack of circulation.

You let out a whimper of discomfort, your big eyes looking between his talons pressed into you then back up to his twisted face.

He yanked you into him, your heels scraping the bottom of the floor-- or maybe that was the screech of his barstool he pushed out of his way on the hardwood.

“You really think you’re all that interesting?” His eyes were narrowed in on yours. “You were just an pair of open legs.” He muttered in disgust.

Your eyes hardened, jaw tightening shut as both anger and sadness twisted inside of you until it created a damaging tornado. You couldn’t believe you saw interest in him or anything at all.

“Hey-” A voice so low and booming broke you out of your thoughts, both of your heads snapping to the bartender who was staring daggers into Chris.

“You don’t touch a lady like that in my fuckin’ bar. Get the hell outta here.” His voice relaxed in volume, his scary stature and piercing eyes were enough to thrust a splinter of fear into Chris. But of course, being the cock that he was, he wouldn’t let it seem like the bartender phased him.

“This doesn’t concern you, man. Best if you just drop it-”

“Or what?” The bartender’s words cut quick as his head cocked up, eyes narrowed on Chris’s. Challenging him. Goading him to fight back. The bartender even stepped closer to the bar’s edge, making Chris step back a foot or two despite the bar being a direct barrier to the two. Chris’ hold didn’t slack, it became stronger. Your nails started to try and pry away his hand from you, but his grip was solid.

You looked to the bartender, a silent plea for his help behind your eyes as you were still lightly fighting against the grip Chris had on you. The anger Chris felt towards the man reflected in his hand around your forearm, a short cry coming from your lips as his fingertips bruised into your delicate skin.

“What did I just fuckin’ say?” The bartender was rounding the bar towards the two of you, Chris quickly dropping his hold on you as the man neared closer. This idiot had never been in a fight before in his life, and he surely wasn’t going to start with the tall, broad bartender who probably beat up drunk assholes every other night.

You were so hypnotized by their interaction, the feeling of the bartender’s hand gently on your back before he became a barricade in front of you. His broad arms crossed in front of his chest and he was still looking for a fight out of Chris.

He looked scary, but in a more protective way now. Now that he was so much closer, you had a better look at him.

His flesh was seared with the signs of life, soft lines on his forehead and by his eyes-- probably from the permanent scowl he wore like how people put on their glasses every day or a watch around their wrist. He had a speckled beard, but a prominent mustache on his upper lip, both the hair on his head and his facial hair wore a brief streaks of silver.

His nose was aquiline, it fit him perfectly. He was long in the torso, broad in the shoulders, and drawn in at the waist. The henley shirt he wore looked like it could barely fit around his biceps, the material stretching to accommodate. He was handsome for a stranger you had paid little attention to all evening.

“You alright?” You could tell he was talking to you without looking, his voice more serene.

“Yeah.” Your voice sounded shakier than you wanted it to, the whole interaction being a shock to your system. Your hand delicately stroke over where he held you, the ghost of his grip still aching on your skin as small bruises were sure to form later.

The bartender’s attention was back on Chris after being assured you were alright.

“You heard her. Get the hell out of here.” The bartender’s head cocked behind Chris and to the door. Once the bartender got involved with your fight, you could feel the presence of the tough pool table guys pause their game to make sure the situation was handled.

Outnumbered, Chris scoffed before he yanked his ice-covered jacket from the bartop, his eyes on you as he shook his head, his nostrils flaring. “Keep her. She’s not worth the fuckin’ trouble.”

The bartender had enough of Chris thinking he was in charge of the situation. He planted his hands at the top of Chris’ chest, giving him a harsh shove that had him staggering backward, still trying to maintain his balance as he was shoved out the door repeatedly.

“I don’t usually ask twice, consider yourself lucky.” The bartender’s words were cut with steel. He looked so calm and unbothered like he picked fights with random guys every other night and it was no big deal.

The crowd of regulars at the bar cheered him on until Chris was swiftly shoved out the door and you could hear his body scuff against the cement steps outside.

You finally felt a flood of relief course through your body, the adrenaline had come and gone, but the racing of your heart hadn’t subsided.

You let out a hot puff of air as you brought the scattered barstools back to their home under the bar, seeing a pair of hands help you align the last one. It was the bartender, and he was watching you with eagle eyes.

“I’m sorry-” you quickly blurt, shaking your head and pressing your hand to the side of your neck to find some sort of relief. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene or put you in a situation-”

“You didn’t do nothin’ wrong.” He was quick to cut in and assure you, your bunched-up shoulders slowly relaxing as he resumed his spot behind the bar.

You sort of wanted to leave. You hated the unwanted attention your hot-headedness created. Even though he was the asshole, you still felt like it was your fault.

“Sit down.” His voice demanded, your eyes softening as your head whipped back up to look at him.

“I’ll remake your drink, just… sit down.” You shifted on your uncomfortable heels before giving in and satisfying him with a little nod, returning to your barstool as he came by and made you another drink.

“Can you-” your voice perked up and tapped at your glass gently. He paused his motions as he looked down at you. “Can you make this drink as responsibly strong as you can?”

His lips tightened, trying to hide a smile poking out from the corner of his mouth.

“Sure, Trouble.” You watched as he tipped the alcohol in, letting it fill up with the ice before he added only a good splash of mixer. Thank god.

The breakup with Chris was warranted, but it was hard thinking about having to start all over with someone new. Hopefully with someone better. You weren’t one to drink by yourself like this, but the burn of the alcohol sliding down your throat felt better than the ache you felt festering in your chest.

As the night went on, the bartender didn’t seem keen on being more than a few feet away from you. He’d fulfill a patron’s order on the other end but always end up back by you, meandering himself to keep busy. You had watched him clean one beer mug three separate times now. Sometimes you made eye contact, only for a fleeting second before he looked away.

He kept asking if you were alright. Yeah, I’m alright. If he could do anything. You’ve already done more than enough. Thank you. Finally, he broke.

“So… you wanna tell me who that guy was?” He asked, topping off your drink as you sighed and swirled your straw around.

“He was... I don’t know. A boyfriend, I guess.” You waved around your drink as you spoke, your eyes meandering around the bar.

“Whatever we had, it didn’t last long.” You tutted up a short laugh at your little joke. You took in a deep breath through your nose, your shoulders rising before they dropped on the exhale.

The bartender shook his head, almost looking inquisitive.

“Why d’ya laugh?” He asked curiously, his arms spread as he planted his palms into the bar for balance as he kicked back one of his boots to rest behind the other. He was so broad and handsome.

“Oh,” you paused and covered your face for a moment in embarrassment that he called you out on it. “I said it didn’t last long, the relationship, but like.. Y’know.” You trailed off and shyly smiled, setting your hands back in your lap as you caught his eye contact, however, now he was holding it with you.

“What?” He pressed further. But he knew what. He just wanted you to say it.

You let out a short nervous bubble of laughter, shaking your head. Oh, fuck it. The alcohol was helping you relax, and frankly, you wanted to laugh at Chris. You didn’t owe him anything.

“He didn’t last long. The relationship didn’t last long, and he didn’t last long. Y’know. In bed.” You felt the need to over-clarify now, taking another sip from your drink, your eyes clenching closed slightly as the strong alcohol made your face tense.

The bartender’s mouth chipped up into a crooked smirk, shaking his head as he looked over you for a moment. You remembered what you were wearing, your little black dress doing wonders for your cleavage resting just above his bar.

“‘S’a damn shame.” He finally said, shaking his head as he threw a white cloth up onto his shoulder, his attention fully on you now as the bar had begun to die down throughout the night. All that was left was a set of people playing pool and one cigarette smoker on the other end of the bar, his eyes tiredly captured by the random game show on the television.

“What is?” You ask curiously, your straw slurping ice now as you sighed and pushed the glass away, shaking your head at him to signal you were done for the night.

He paused before answering you, taking your glass from the bartop and throwing down the ice into a tray then the glass into soapy water. He shook his head and shrugged as he wiped his hands.

“Jackass twenty-somethings not knowin’ how to make their pretty girlfriends finish. Damn shame.”

Your lips parted, your doe eyes on his whiskey-colored ones. Your stomach twisted, a tug between your legs so strong it felt like you were battling an internal fire.

Finally, you just laughed. It was out of shyness and shock, but it was a laugh.

“Is that so?”

“So it is.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

He didn’t let you go another second without it. “Joel.”

Your head cocked to the side, your confidence bubbling up as you sighed quietly. “Joel.” You repeated back to him, the two of you slowly nodding to one another. Now you were the only thing his eyes would look at. You sort of wished he would look somewhere else, to let you fucking breathe.

But he pinned you right there in your barstool with his gaze, in his bar. It was crazy to think something fruitful might actually come from the train wreck that was tonight.

Maybe put together looked something more like Joel. Someone a little older, experienced. No wedding ring, a barely-there smile that seemed to only come out on special occasions. He amused you, even if it was just for tonight.

“So, Joel,” your hand reached out, pointer finger gently grazing over the top side of his hand that was planted in front of you. His skin was warm, your nail grazing the soft hairs by his wrist, and the band of the watch he wore. “What are you trying to say?”

His expression didn’t break, if anything, there were minute details you noticed. His jaw clicked tighter like there was someone slowly turning a tight wheel that controlled it behind the scenes. His shoulders bunched a bit more at his upper back, his body tall and looming and strong. But his eyes stayed on yours, consistent, dark, and beautiful.

“I can show you better than I can tell you.” His words were laced with a promise you were begging him to fulfill. You weren’t sure how much longer you could last with this nagging feeling between your legs begging for relief.

Your intimate conversation was cut short with the final clatter of a pool ball, the black 8 ball sinking into a pocket.

You finally let out a breath, one you didn’t know you were holding in. You glanced to the side, away from Joel’s protective gaze as you watched the men hang up their pool cues on the wall mount, grabbing their leather jackets as they came to set their empty beer bottles on the bar top and thanking Joel before they exited.

His hand came up in a subtle wave, not even shaking his hand back and forth, just throwing his hand out there to say a silent farewell.

Your breath quickened at the thought of him alone in the bar with you. If it wasn’t for the chain smoker dulling both of your fantasies.

Joel caught your wandering eyes, following them down the lane to the final patron.

“Paul, do you know how late it is?” Your eyes fell to Joel’s fingers as he covered the clock behind the counter methodically.

The smoker, who you learned was Paul, finally pulled the cigarette away from his dry and cracked mouth, glancing around to see how empty the bar had become. Besides you and Joel.

“Your wife is probably waitin’ for you at home. Best if you start headin’ out.” Joel said as his head tilted to the door next to him, the man nodding with wide eyes.

“Oh, she is gonna kill me. That woman,” he mumbled something else you couldn’t quite hear from your end of the bar, smiling as Joel snuck a glance at you as he ushered Paul out. He’d stay here all night if Joel didn’t tell him to head on home.

Your nerve finally made your long legs move, heels landing on the hardwood as you slowly walked the length of the bar, your fingers dancing along the top. You felt a few chips and divots in the wood, years of wear and tear exposing itself to you.

Joel flicked the lock on the door and flipped the sign. Sorry, we’re closed!

The action in itself made you feel spoiled. He wanted you to himself for the rest of the night, he didn’t want anyone interrupting. Goosebumps flooded your skin as you leaned back against one of the pool tables, the light above you making you have an angelic silhouette.

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the jukebox, the only thing eliciting noise in the otherwise silent bar. With a push of a button, the music halted.

“What? No music?” You asked. Your voice had a slight echo now.

His heavy footsteps loomed closer, his eyes on yours and never straying.

“Rather hear you.”

Well, there went any remaining ounce of respect you had for yourself.

You initiated the first contact, needy at this point. Needy for someone to take care of you just for tonight. Joel was more than willing to take on that role. A means to an end.

Your soft hands landed on his exposed forearms, moving upwards until they hit the rolled-up sleeves of his dark green henley. You had to force yourself to breathe when you felt over his biceps, your warm palms coming to rest on his broad chest.

“I could have handled it you know. Before you intervened.” Your words elicited a slight grumble from the man in front of you. From Joel.

“I’m thankful, but… I had it under control.” Your fingers continued to dance over his upper half.

He let out a gruff and shook his head. “Not from where I was standin’, Trouble.” His voice was curved with cockiness. This was the first time you really took hold of his southern accent. It came out when his voice was lust drenched.

He challenges you, and your attitude matches his stubbornness.

Joel’s hips are against yours now, you can feel his jeans against your thighs that your dress doesn’t quite reach. His hands are a warm welcome on your hips. They’re gentle on you in the same way they’re possessive, eager to have you but wanting to approach you with a sense of tenderness.

“I had it.” You were persistent. Your arms moved to wrap up around his neck, intertwining your hands and feeling the soft curls on the back of his head.

“Sure.”

The distance was closing between the two of you now, his body moving with a flirtatious sense of stealth.

He watched you with a stoic face. He seemed so unphased. Your touch alone was often enough to have gentlemen attempting to take you home. You were methodical in that sense. But maybe so was Joel.

He was a total stranger, but knew little things about him. Stiff, silent, impossible to read, a human shield, a protector. He would have knocked Chris out with a single swift swing of his heavy fist if he didn’t let you go, you knew he would have. Because he was watching you both all night like he had a gut feeling.

Joel’s tundra-cold voice broke you out of your thoughts for the third time tonight, his large hand coming up and pushing a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear before he cradled your cheek. His actions were soft, his words were filth.

“You got a real mouth on you, y’know that?” His eyebrows were furrowed, the indents on his forehead and eyebrows exposing themselves.

A proud smirk danced on your lips, your arms tugging Joel in closer. He could choose to stay still, he’s strong enough to resist your tug. But he lets you. Because he wants to.

“So I’ve been told.”

You can feel a breath leave through his nose, a sigh of contemplation. Teetering on the idea of falling down into the unknown with you.

Your breath hitches in your throat as his hands tighten on your hips, hoisting you up to sit on the pool table’s edge. The position makes your dress roll up your thighs, a broken gasp leaving your mouth as he finally fills the void between the two of you with a heavy kiss.

It’s tongue and teeth at first, meshed and mangled as you both searched for dominance. His tongue danced with your own before you were tugging on his lower lip. You swallowed Joel’s low grunt, his hands falling to the outside of your thighs with his thumbs pressing into your skin.

Fuck, he was spreading you further. The dress rolled to the very top of your legs, his body sliding through the opening as his warm body consumed you. He tasted like mint. He was probably tasting the alcohol he was pouring you all night.

You fisted his hair at the nape of his neck to hold onto some sort of control, but he was persistent.

Joel was invading your senses on all fronts until finally, you had to wave your white flag.

“Joel,” Your voice came out in a desperate breath on his lips, his head quickly nodding as if he already knew what you needed before you had to ask.

“Lie down, baby, lemme take care a’you.” He kissed you once more before pulling away, his head nodding up once, instructing you to lay back.

You felt bashful as your shoulder blades hit the pool table, still spread perfectly for him.

His expert hands pushed the dress up your hips, lifting your ass off the edge to let the material pool around your stomach.

His warm and possessive hands claimed the lower half of your body. He bent down to take you in, pouted lips kissing your naval while his heavy eyes studied your reactions.

A breath was caught in your throat as you felt his hands on the inside of your thighs, brushing over the front of the red panties you wore. He was thinking the same thing you were, you could see it the way he dropped a small grin. Same color as your lipstick, pretty girl.

“Fuck,” you whispered, using the strength you had left and sitting up on your elbows. You were too turned on not to watch him work.

Your fingers wound into the salt and pepper curls atop his head, biting down on your lower lip as his fingers continued to ghost over cotton.

His thumb began to teasingly stroke over you, brushing over your covered clit and sending electricity through his touch to your core.

Joel hooked his thumbs into the sides of your underwear, bringing up your legs to take them off with ease. You scoot closer to the edge of the table, scoot closer to him.

“What?” You ask, his bemused grin now eliciting one from you too. “Think I’m desperate?” You ask, a little on edge for his answer.

A man of suspense, you watch as Joel shrugs off the question.

You watched as his eyes came down to admire what was previously concealed, your lips parting as he let out a hum in reaction to seeing your soaked core. All because of him, all for him.

Sinking down on his knees before the pool table, your hips rutted forward a few more inches to close the distance. His toying with you was aggravating.

Joel hooked one of your legs over his wide-set shoulder, his large hand coming up to pry the other one up and open. One of your heels nearly sunk into one of the pool table pockets. You whimpered out as you eventually kicked them both off, hearing one pair clatter to the floor on the left of Joel, then the other on the right.

His lips were on you like a magnet, a heavy sigh leaving your mouth as your eyes fluttered closed. Your gut was tight, feeling it create its own knots as Joel licked an exploratory stripe up your glossy slit with his tongue. You gasped at the estranged feeling.

“Fuck,” he moaned out, a short yelp leaving you as the vibrations were shot up your center. “Taste too good not to go down on.” The compliment left you in a swirling heat, feeling your walls flutter desperately for him.

“Joel, you can just-” you paused, not realizing how frantic your words sounded. You sounded frantic enough for him to stop his tongue in his path and look at you like a deer in headlights.

“‘Somethin’ wrong?” He asked, hesitant concern crossing his features. “You alright?”

As much as you liked his attention, you felt awkward about him tasting you. Only one or two guys have ever done this for you before, neither making you finish. You just remember moaning their names until they stopped, letting them think they had succeeded. Good oral sex took experience, trial, and error. You just didn’t want him to waste his time on you.

But now that his tongue was gone, you realized how good he was making you feel. It made you realize that your slick was already devoured by his lips and his taste buds purely because he wanted to. But you still had that nervous gut feeling that it was out of some sort of chivalrous act. I’ll do it because it’s polite, because it’s only courteous.

“You just- you don’t have to, okay? I understand if you don’t want to, is what I’m trying to say.” Despite your words being laced with little pants of trying to collect yourself from the pleasure, you still offered him a respectable out. “We can just fuck, get to the good part for both of us.” Your heart thumped in your chest, looking to him with shifty, sympathetic eyes.

Your statement made his head roll to the side, his lips parting. He almost looked disappointed.

“You don’t want me to?” He finally asked, your heat still begging for his attention. You could feel your thighs trembling under the warmth of his palms spreading your legs apart.

Meekly, you finally push an answer up and out of you. “No.” Your words were breathy, eager, desperate. “Don’t want you to stop.”

Joel gave you a slight nod, his eyes looking over you for a moment before he settled back down by your core. He kissed up the inside of your thigh, his beard hairs scratching after the soothing touches of his mouth.

“Good. Now let me make you feel good.”

His words made your stomach clench, your walls fluttering and begging to be filled. By the look in his eyes, he had seen it. The way your arousal was quite literally dripping and becoming sticky on your skin.

You could feel his hot breath fanning over your core again, your hips chasing the feeling. You decided to lay back once more, just wanting to relax with Joel’s head between your legs.

His palm on your leg moved to plant your hip down into the pool table, halting your movements and holding you still. The anticipation was all too much, and you let him know that by whimpering out his name.

He wasn’t exactly slow, it’s like he was learning. With each lap of his tongue, letting it move up to your clit and then down to your entrance, he was taking the time to learn you.

You purse your lips as your eyes flutter closed, letting out a genuine gasp as he began to suckle on your clit. The motion eluded something deep in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t exactly gentle, but it didn’t hurt. Feeling his mouth suck and tug on your aching clit, his teeth just lightly grazing your sensitivity felt like powerful lighting strikes setting a wildfire loose in your core.

“S’that feel good, pretty girl?” He whispered, trying to learn what made you tick.

“M-mhmm,” you whimper-moaned shakily in response, not finding it in you to lace together more than a few syllables.

One of your hands braced the edge of the table while the other fisted his hair, gripping the dark strands and keeping him in place. As if he was going anywhere.

You could feel Joel slowly untying the knots you had made in your stomach, plucking open one and then the other with each stroke of his tongue.

He liked your taste, he liked pleasuring you, he liked that you liked how good it felt to be given this type of attention. Attention he was sure you hadn’t rightfully experienced before.

You were eager for more but shy to ask. Joel, being the mind reader that he was, moved his hand that was dedicated to holding down your hip and brought it to glide up your slick. His wet tongue made slow figure-eights around your clit, broken moans tumbling from your mouth as you let your eyes dip open and then closed as waves of pleasure began to consume you in an even rhythm. Joel’s rhythm.

His mouth kissed at the inside of your thigh once more, having to bite down into the flesh to conceal his excitement. It made you smile and whine. You wanted the marks of his teeth, you wanted the prints of his hands on you. His were welcome.

He slowly sunk a finger into your pleading entrance, letting a breathy sigh enter the air above the two of you. The only sound in the empty bar was your eager moaning.

His mouth gave you much needed relief, your pussy taking his finger to the knuckle while his tongue continued to create generous circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

That’s when you felt it. The it no one had given to you before. The it that left your mind blindsided.

He was only one finger inside of you but his tongue was working magic. You started to mewl out feverish moans of his name, the hand in his hair clenching tighter and causing a sting to radiate across his scalp. The leg hiked up on his shoulder was shaking, your heel digging into his back to guide him even closer if that was humanly possible.

“Joel, holy shit,” you whimpered, head coming up to look down at him. His lips and mustache were glistening in your slick. “I’m s-so close.”

You didn’t have to convince Joel like you had to convince the others. Your moans were authentic, your cries of passion genuine.

Joel listened, he kept his pace, the pace that had you shattering like a freshly broken mirror.

“J-.. Fuck Joel, your fingers,” you whimper, your walls fluttering around where he was pumping into you with just the one.

“Mhmmm?” He elongated in a questioning tone, not freeing his mouth from you to respond. He wanted you to say it. You threw your head back in frustration and nodded quickly with your chin to the ceiling.

“A-Another, another finger.” You groan out. You could feel his smirk plastered against your clit, feeling his cheeks raise with his smile against your shaking thighs.

You don’t need to ask twice. Joel’s inserting a second finger and you can feel yourself stretching for him. He picks up his pace again and the it you’ve been fantasizing about is happening.

Your toes curl, the heel of your foot still indenting into his back as you let out heavy pants into the air. Your back arches as your walls tighten around his fingers while Joel curls them in the perfect spot, your hand fisting the edge of the table as you searched for words to resemble how good he was making you feel.

Joel kept untying your knots, plucking open one after the other, after the other, until-

“Holy f-fuck! Joel!” Your body convulsed with your orgasm, your hard nipples peaking in your dress as your lower half started to grind against his mouth for the ultimate finish. You were seeing white, your moans and the squelching noise your wetness made filled the room.

His fingers worked you down from your orgasm, your chest rising and falling as you came back to life. Freshly resuscitated after a life-altering orgasm. And one you didn’t have to fake.

His fingers were covered in your cum-mixed arousal, he didn’t waste any time sucking them clean as his eyes connected with yours. An exhausted whimper left your throat. Your lips were pouty, eyes as wide as a doe as you sat up to face him.

He pushed himself off his knees, your leg dangling free from his shoulder.

Your foreheads came to rest against one another, both taking a breath to collect yourselves. His beard definitely gave your thighs a little burn rash, but with how good he made you feel, the slight pain was worth all the pleasure.

“I’ve never had someone go down on me on a pool table.”

Your fingers aimlessly drew circles in the felt, your other hand reaching up to swipe your thumb clean across his bottom lip.

“Ever been fucked on a bar?” His eyes dark and tantalizing, his voice lacking true emotion and replacing it with grit and lust. Good. That’s the last thing you want right now. You don’t need emotions tonight.

“Mm-mm.” You said as you shook your head, the two of you wearing matching smirks.

You were glad you and Joel were on the same page. Neither of you seemed interested in anything more than sex tonight.

Joel was about to help you down from the pool table, a wave of heat splashing your already warm face. He turned back when you dropped hold of his hand, lightly squirming on the table.

“Just-” You’re a bit embarrassed, you don’t want him to feel sympathetic. “I need a minute. For my legs.” You gave him a shy smile, and he wore a crooked cocky one in return.

You glanced down as you tested a foot on the floor. Your stems felt like jelly, as if you had just run a marathon, but really, Joel was just pulling an earth-shattering orgasm from you.

Joel was quick to shake his head, his body coming back to yours.

“Don’t need you walkin’ barefoot on the floor. I’m a little behind on cleanin’ up the place.” His words made you stifle a laugh.

He was okay with eating you out on the pool table and fucking you on his bar, but god forbid you might step on something sticky.

You wonder if it’s because he feels protective of you. He wasn’t going to let some dickhead break your arm tonight. Not in his bar.

“I’m fine.” You say as you haul yourself up, planting your palm into his bicep for leverage while you put on one heel and then the other. You could walk on your own.

“You wanna fuck me on your bar, baby? You do this with all the girls?” You ask as the heels clicked on the floor, one after the other.

His pace catches up with you, dark eyes watching your every move like a predator meeting prey. It would scare you if you didn’t know how good he was with his tongue.

“Only the real pretty ones with delicious tasting cunts.”

Your lips parted at his words, merely watching as his pace kicked up a notch. You felt your back slam against the bar as Joel consumed your front and he was kissing you once more.

His kiss was magnetizing, commanding. Open your mouth for me. Let me taste you.

You obeyed, feeling him slip in and have his taste. Your hands reached for your dress that was bunched around your stomach, pulling your lips from Joel though he was apprehensive to let you do so. The material tangled your hair but you were quickly tossing your dress aside, eager to have him back in your space.

His eyes lingered on your tits, his mouth on yours, but now his hands- god, his hands, they were massaging and cupping them in his palm.

You let out a strangled whimper as he pinched your nipple between two fingers, still sensitive from your orgasm across the room.

He enjoyed watching you squirm, your jelly legs already coming back.

“So fuckin’ greedy.. Can barely hold yourself up.” Joel’s words were gritty, lost in the depths of his heady lust. You wondered how big he was, you could see the heavy outline through his jeans.

While he played with your tits, his mouth now slobbering on your nipple and making your core tremble, your hands were on his old leather belt. Pulling the excess to the side and flicking open the pin.

He takes over, pushing down his jeans to the tops of his thighs. You smile seeing his dark green briefs, the same green as his henley.

“I guess we’re both matching tonight.” You teased, snagging your pointer finger into his briefs and tugging until it snapped back into his waist.

“Turn around pretty girl, wanna feel that pretty pussy around my cock.”

Your stomach was already bottoming out, all those knots Joel had untied on the pool table were now forming again.

You whimpered as you eagerly turned around, your saliva covered tits now plastered to the bar as you bent over it. The bartop gave you a shiver, considering how cold it felt while bare.

You whipped your head to the side when you could hear him shifting out of his boxers, his belt clattering with his movements. You flicked your hair out of your way as you tried to get a look at his lower half but he was flushed behind you in no time at all.

Joel wrapped his hand around his base, his other hand on your hip as he guided you to stand between two barstools. He slid his tip in your fresh arousal, smirking as he watched you grip the edge of the bar.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ girl. Need a man to make you feel good, not a boy.”

His words released a whimpery moan from you while you nodded, each time his tip teased your entrance made your heart race just a beat faster with anticipation.

“Need you, Joel.”

He nods, his open palm splayed on your lower back and right hip as he admired the curve of your ass.

“So-” your breath hitches as you feel his tip nudge in, “fuckin-” you clench your eyes closed as his first few inches break you in two, your jaw dropping, “tight.” He bottoms out in one swift thrust, filling you up to a level you didn’t even know you possessed.

“Joel!” A broken cry unleashes from the depths of your throat, you didn’t need to see him to know how big he is. You can fucking feel every single inch of him.

Your cunt was in shock, your tight walls clenching desperately around him as you began to flood over him with your arousal.

You began panting into the wood of the bar, the pain greeting you in a hot flash.

“Oh f-... god,” your knuckles were white gripping the backside of the bar. You could hear Joel behind you, moaning at the way your walls expanded graciously for them.

“Good girl, alright baby, come on, baby,” His voice was heavy, wrapped up in his lust as he hiked up one of your legs and set it on the barstool. “So fuckin-” his heavy breath fanned across your back as he pulled he retracted his hips, “perfect for me.” He said as he reeled them back in, filling you to the max.

Your leg up on the barstool released a new angle for the two of you, your eyelashes fluttering as Joel found a previously undiscovered spot.

He started slow, letting your body adjust to him. How could someone as good-looking as Joel be humble about a dick like this? And he knew how to fucking use it.

You were trying to moan his name, but they just kept coming out in hot pants.

“Joel, Joel, fuck Joel!” The pleasure had now replaced the pain, a sweet sting at your core every time he ground his hips into you just right.

Joel’s thrusts never wavered, they were deliberate and calculated as he filled you to the brim. His cologne was invading your senses, mixed with his sweat.

He collected your hair in a loose ponytail, peeling your face off the bartop as your chin angled up to the ceiling. The pool table may have been for you, using his mouth to get off. But now, this was for Joel. Joel was using you good and hard, and you fucking loved it. You loved that you were what he needed tonight, and vice versa.

The sound of Joel’s hips clapping against your ass echoed throughout his bar, your hand coming back to grip onto his forearm for some sort of leverage. Some sort of control. Some sort of… anything.

But Joel made it clear that he was in charge tonight.

His tempo edged you. Once you fell close to another crashing orgasm, his thrusts feeling like they were hitting you at a million miles an hour, suddenly slowed to the flow of bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic. It was torturous the way he had you mewling out his name in desperation one moment and then the next, he had you whining for more. But every time you neared the finish line, the overwhelmingness of it all was stronger, and you knew Joel felt it too.

Joel didn’t want you just to feel good, he wanted to change how you saw sex. No more laziness from a partner, no more vanilla positions, no more faking orgasms. This was what it felt like to be fulfilled by the real thing.

No matter how hard he tried, both of you were losing strength to put up with the passing of another orgasm.

“J-Joel-” He could barely hear his name with the sound of his front snapping into your behind. “I’m so- fuck me,- I’m so c-close,” You were sure to have bruises on your hips tomorrow, the wooden edge of the bar being nailed into you. “I’m close, please!” you whined, beginning to throw yourself into each of his thrusts which worked up a good grunt from him.

“Feel so fuckin’ good around my cock,” you twisted your head back as you felt his arm snare around your hip, his fingers slowly circling around your sensitive bud. You were gasping for air, seeing stars as he actually fed you what you wanted. He was ready to let you cum.

Your eyes weakly watched him as he fucked you over his bar. Eventually, you had to push yourself off of the front because it was pinning your hips into numbness. Your leg came down from the barstool, your back still bent over as you used your palms to flush against the edge of the bar to hold yourself up. Your head whipped back again as you became obsessed with observing him.

“You like watchin’ me fuck you, sweetheart? Little fuckin’ troublemaker.”

There were no words, it was too late. Your head dropped as your nails chipped into the wood, letting out a cry of his name as Joel continued to untie the knots in your stomach, all of them falling loose until you came.

You heard him let out a long and low groan, your barely-open eyes turning back to watch the sight of Joel finishing.

Joel could feel your walls pulsing desperately around his swollen cock, his fingers getting a little messy with your clit but he kept at it, he wasn’t going to disappoint you. That’s when it hit him, where he couldn’t hold on anymore.

He spilled his white hot cum into you, rope after rope until it was coming out in shorter streams inside your cunt. You and Joel were moaning in unison as you both finished together.

After a few moments to breathe, you gently pat his hand that was rubbing lazy circles in your clit, feeling his warm palms move to your hips as you slowly straightened out together.

You flipped your messy hair out of your face, smirking tiredly as you looked over him while he tugged his jeans and briefs back up on his hips, your eyes hypnotized by watching his rough and calloused hands easily secure his belt on.

“Uhm..” You paused as you shyly searched around for your dress a few barstools down. You went to retrieve it, Joel taking it from your hands and slipping it back on your body. You watched his face, his eyes looked through you.

Your thumb came up to his lips, watching as he did a minute flinch with how fast your hand invaded his space.

“Relax,” you tease, swiping away the red lipstick of yours that melted on the edge of his pretty mouth. He slowly relaxed as he watched you clean yourself from him, his warm palms still holding your aching hips.

You sighed, your body and mind tired from being completely blown out. Your feet were sore from your heels, you were ready to take this dress and makeup off for good tonight.

You watched with a teasing smile as Joel did a shitty job with a wet rag cleaning up where you were thrust against his bar, shaking your head at him.

“Missed a spot.”

He tutted dryly. “Funny.”

You collected your clutch and your other belongings, seeing the spot at the end of the bar where the ice you had thrown at Chris had long ago melted and was now a puddle on the floor.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.” Joel’s voice erupted from behind you.

Your hand clutched the stray 8 ball on the pool table Joel had you laid out on, dragging it to the corner pocket before you went to meet him at the door. He unlocked it to let you out, even going up the concrete steps with you.

“It’s fine, Joel.”

He shrugs and shakes his head, looking past you once more.

“I know. Just wanna make sure you get in the cab alright.” He waved up his hand and stepped into the street, signaling a car until one pulled up to you both. You didn’t know what time it was, how late it had gotten. You probably had several missed messages from your friends to hear how your revenge breakup went. You couldn’t wait to tell them how tonight turned out for the better. Because of Joel.

Finally, he was really looking at you. And you had no idea what to say. Your lips parted, looking up at the older man who sort of saved your night.

Your eyes said it all. Thank you.

He just nodded and cocked his head towards the cab.

“Night, Joel.” You tugged open the door to the cab, tossing your purse in the backseat before sliding in as gracefully as you could. You should forget about being graceful at this point after what you’ve done.

“You gonna tell me your name before you go?” How could his question come from curiosity but his voice was as cold and bare as ever. His hand was in the window of your cab, as if holding it in place from taking off on him.

His interest made you smirk, your hand playfully plucking his fingers free from his grip on the window before giving a little shrug and not saying a word.

His eyes stray from yours and look down the road, seeing him cross his arms in front of his broad chest before he continues. “Alright, fine.” He said with a little nod. “Do you think I don’t pay attention to ID’s when I check ‘em?” He says your name, testing the waters as a shy smile creeps on your lips, his cocky little smirk was enough to make your eyes roll. “That’s alright, I’ve been calling you Trouble all night anyway.”

You sighed tiredly and smiled, tapping the cab window. “Goodnight, Joel.” You say before falling back into your seat and giving the driver your address.

“Goodnight, Trouble.”

Joel saw you off before disappearing down the concrete stairs into the Blackbird, your fingers gently ghosting over your red lipstick as you watched the city fly by.

---

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lazyjellyfish300 · 19 days

Text

Gentleman part 4🌼💌

AU Geneticist CEO!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Intern College Student! Reader

Synopsis: Noir speeds steadily towards your sugar daddy's grand estate in the countryside after rescuing you from the college football game from hell... Word count 6.9k

A/N: I'm so grateful for the support on this fic and others 🖤 thank you for your patience. 🖤🥰🫶🏽 This art by blahhberry on insta is Dr. O'Hara's face claim btw. 🥰 I put my whole heart into this chapter so pretty pls let me know what you think 😁🥰

CW: MINORS DNI, SMUT(P IN V, FINGERING, ORAL F RECEIVING), SUGAR DADDY RELATIONSHIP (BOSS/EMPLOYEE), POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, OOC MIGUEL, LEGAL AGE GAP, READER IS MID-LATE TWENTIES ISH, MIGUEL LATE THIRTIES, TALK OF ASSAULT, DRUNKENNESS, COMFORT, FLUFF, INSECURE READER, LITTLE ANGST

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

------

You wake up from your nap as you hear the sound of gravel crackling under the tires of the Mercedes as you come up to a long dirt road. Your eyes widen as you approach a tall, ornately crafted black iron gate nestled between two large trees. Noir leans out of the window, punching in an access code and waving a badge with an elaborate two step verification process before the gate opens slowly towards the car with a loud creak and a groan, a small cloud of dust being kicked up in its wake. Noir drives forward, down a long, winding driveway.

You squint and your mouth falls open at the sight in front of you. Seemingly endless expansive miles of greenery in what appears to be a private vineyard and gardens, the bushes neatly trimmed and groomed with tiny flowers blossoming from the branches, vines weaving neatly in intricate patterns up a gargantuan, ivory colored estate with a black roof and dim lights, a gorgeous stone fountain with teal lights running in the front of it.

But, Noir makes a right hand turn, traveling down another twin driveway that runs further down, a little deeper into the trees. When you finally reach the end of it, there's a comparatively smaller, but still gorgeous farm style country house nestled in the middle of several tall trees.

Noir pulls into the garage, your eyes widening at the two fancy vintage sports cars and the two private golf carts parked in the other vacant spots. Noir gets out, opening the backseat door and helping you. You stumble, your vision still chaotic from the leftover booze in your system, holding onto Noir as he coaxes you inside the house.

Your mouth falls open as you enter the gorgeous home. Polished wooden floors and warm cream colored walls are the interior. You take a deep breath, the smell of fresh linen and florals flooding the house mixed with the crisp air of the trees outside.

"Welcome to the guest house, madam." Noir says with a hum. "Here, remove your shoes please. All outside shoes except bedroom slippers should be kept in this room."

He helps you pull off your dirty shoes, leaving them in the mudroom next to the garage door as he brings you further inside.

There's a huge, beautiful kitchen with a large island in the middle with granite countertops, a large bowl of fresh lemons as the centerpiece, giving an air of zest from the delectable citrus. Your socks gently glide along the furnished shiny wooden floors, reminding you of when you'd slide around the house in your socks as a little kid.

Noir brings you to the living room, an enormous TV mounted on the wall above a stone fireplace, a couple of candles burning quietly on the mantle giving it a peaceful glow. He sits you on a large, cushy sectional couch that could seat a dozen people with tons of fancy decorative pillows with gray accents, throwing a fuzzy blanket over your legs and turning on the TV to your favorite comfort series.

"Getting you water and food, miss." Noir gives you a thumbs up as he disappears into the kitchen. "Madge! You here?"

A faint call comes from outside. You sit up on the couch, craning your neck a little bit. A small stout woman is working in the gardens outside. You stand up, walking to the window, your mouth falling open again as you notice a gorgeous square swimming pool with a connected hot tub, colorful lights illuminating the bottom of it.

There are several rows of fruit trees: apples, peaches, pears, nectarines, and apricots, and a vegetable garden with tomatoes, eggplant, carrots, pumpkin, squash, cauliflower, potatoes, zucchini, cucumbers, and radishes where Madge is kneeling, standing up and brushing the dirt off her apron as she brings a basket of freshly harvested veggies inside.

"What's on the menu tonight, Mrs. Madge?" Noir asks the jolly cook/housekeeper pleasantly, starting to fiddle with a Rubik's cube he takes out of his trenchcoat pocket as he leans casually against the kitchen countertop.

"Homemade Tomato Bisque, Copycat Cheesy Wisconsin Cauliflower soup from Zupas, and Chicken Orzo with bread bowls!"

"Mm-mm! Sounds delightful as always, Mrs. Madge. Just letting you know we have a guest tonight." Noir nods in your direction.

"Oh!"

Madge turns to look at you, offering you a friendly handshake. "Pleased to meet you, miss."

"This is her, by the way." Noir says, holding his hand against his mouth as though he was telling her a secret.

"Ohhh?! Well in that case welcome, welcome!" Madge bubbles with a huge grin. "I'm so happy to finally meet you. The doctor is quite fond of you...I've heard nothing but glowing things. Please, make yourself at home. Oh, careful dearie!"

She rushes to your side as you stumble a little, still in a daze from earlier. Noir signals to Madge discreetly that you've been drinking.

"Ohhh...well in that case we better get some soup in your system ASAP. Come with me."

She leads you back to the couch, putting each of your legs up on the cushions so you are reclined back, stacking pillows behind you and tucking you in once again, making sure the TV is at a good volume.

Noir returns with some ice water, and Madge reappears a short time later with a tray with a brimming bread bowl of your favorite soup out of the three she cooked, a slice of freshly baked french bread for dipping, a small bowl of the reddest strawberries you've ever seen, and a small garden salad with the freshly picked vegetables on the side.

You hum graciously, and thank her enthusiastically, each sip of the divine soup bringing you slowly back to life by the spoonful as you watch TV, the agonizing ache in your head slowly dissipating.

Noir sits in one of the leather recliners with his soup and his Rubik's cube, eating silently for a bit before he checks in with you.

"You feeling better, missy?"

You nod, pressing a finger to your lips as you swallow a bite of the French bread.

"M-much better...thank you."

Noir nods, tweaking one of the sides of the Rubik's cube. "You gave me quite the scare back there, miss. Those bastards at the game went too far this time."

You hold back a shudder, your head pounding at the cloudy reminder. "Yeah....I'm sorry you had to be in the middle of it. It's all my fault."

"Now..." Noir shakes his head, setting down his Rubik's cube. "It is not your fault, missy. Being assaulted is never the victim's fault. I'm just doing my job. To be honest, you're one of the first girls the doctor has had that have actually treated me like a human being instead of a glorified chauffeur or personal assistant."

You faintly smile at that, not too keen on hearing about Miguel's exes, but your ego slightly boosted from Noir's glowing praise of you.

"R-really?"

"Yes ma'am." Noir says with a hum, taking a generous slurp of his soup. "You are an absolute gem to be around, miss. I think you underestimate yourself and discount your worth too much. The other ladies were usually pleasant in the beginning, but, that quickly wore off over time and I kind of became more of a caddie they could boss around."

You nod, eyes sympathetic towards Noir.

"Well, if I ever become bossy or short with you, I give you full permission to say, 'you know what y/n, you're being a bitch.'"

Noir gives a low chuckle. "I could never refer to you in that way, miss. But, I appreciate it. I'll definitely correct you, but perhaps using a milder way of putting it."

He grins and turns his attention to the screen. "So, what are we watching this evening, madam?"

"Umm, looks like an older movie, Casablanca, I think it's called?"

"Ahhh, good taste, madam. I love this one." Noir sets his empty bowl aside, reclining in his seat as he watches the movie next to you.

"What are you kids watching?" Madge pokes her head in with a smile.

"One of the greatest romances of all time: Casablanca, Mrs. Madge." Noir hums. "Come on, pop a squat and stay a while."

"Oh I'd love to!" Madge beams at the kind invitation and smile you offer her, scooting over a bit on the couch as all three of you enjoy your evening movie and warm soup.

-----

Hours later in the middle of the night, a black sports car rolls in the driveway. The hum from the garage opening doesn't disturb your slumber on the couch as Miguel arrives home. He steps out, rubbing his shoes on the mat before slipping them off and venturing inside, still clad in his dress clothes with a tight dress shirt layered underneath a black cashmere sweater with tight dress slacks that highlighted his strong thighs.

He does his usual visual scan of his home as he enters making sure everything is in order, giving a warm smile to Madge who's doing inventory in the kitchen.

"Evening, Mrs. Madge." Miguel says pleasantly, opening the fridge and grabbing a fancy artesian bottled water. He takes a generous sip, sighing as the cold water wakes him up. "You're not staying too late are you? On your way out soon?"

"Yes, doctor." Madge hums, clicking her pen, setting down her clipboard on the countertop.

Miguel nods, taking one more sip. "Is she here?"

"On the couch." Madge nods in the direction of the living room. "Poor thing passed out after dinner. I think the soup did her good after that awful day she had."

Miguel feels the rage rushing back into his body at the reminder. He had spent nearly an hour on the phone with the campus police and the dean of the university. Justice was going to be temporarily delayed, due to the ongoing investigation that was just opened and your testimony still needed to fill in any gaps. He knew that would be something quite heavy for you to deal with, and the most important thing for you to do now, would be to rest.

"Her room is ready then, all of the clothes and items I requested have been delivered?"

"Yes doctor." Madge answers. "Her closet is stocked with all the clothing items you sent me and jewelry , underwear, and shoes. The monogrammed towels and robe are in her bathroom. Fresh linens on the bed in the color you requested. I also made sure each bathroom has enough toiletries. I haven't had a chance to buy all of her beauty and makeup items she said she wanted just yet, since I didn't realize she was coming tonight, but Noir said he can do it in the morning after breakfast. Oh, and a fresh set of pajamas and slippers and her welcome presents on her bed for tonight."

"Good, good..." Miguel nods. "That should be just fine for now, thank you Madge. I do apologize for all the last minute list of things on short notice but thank you for getting everything together that you could."

Madge nods with a smile and goes speechless as Miguel slides her two envelopes, both containing checks with several thousand more dollars tacked on than normal.

"Your payday early." Miguel says with a smile. "Make sure Noir gets the other one for me, will you?"

"Oh doctor." Madge clutches the envelope to her chest with a sigh. "Bless you...no words just....just bless you so much. I'm so honored to work for you."

Miguel smiles, giving her a squeeze on the shoulder. "Pleasure's all mine, Madge. Thank you for everything you do for my family and for taking care of my girl tonight. I appreciate your service and your loyalty."

"Well, Doctor O'Hara you have this old lady's allegiance for life! Of course, of course! Please call me if you need anything. See you in the morning, Doctor!" Madge chimes as she walks out the door, jingling her keys.

Miguel watches her leave fondly then sighs and rolls up his sleeves as he approaches you on the couch, turning on the lamp. The dim, yellow light illuminating the soft burning mocha of his eyes as he looks lovingly upon your sleeping silhouette on his couch. He crosses over to you quietly, sitting down next to you, taking care not to shift the cushions too much under his weight and turning off the TV that was still running.

You groan a little, shaking your head in your sleep and your eyes flickering open slowly at the feeling of a man's hand stroking your jaw, your eyes elated when you realize it's Miguel.

"Hi, sweetheart." He whispers, giving you a smile. He leans down, positioning himself over you, inhaling as he pulls you into a tight hug. You feel your body flood with happiness as you nuzzle into his chest, intoxicating woodsy cologne wafting from his neck.

"Missed you so so much..." You mumble, the cashmere of his sweater tickling your cheek, your tone rasped from sleep.

"I missed you more, cariño..." He holds you tighter for another moment in silence before he pulls away a little bit, still keeping his face close to yours as he lets you lay back on the pillow, keeping his knuckles underneath your chin.

"I'm sorry to wake you." He says kindly, eyes raking over you for signs of hurt. "I just need to make sure you're okay."

You release a shaky breath, your body shivering at the memory. "I...I don't know. I mean, physically, I'm a lot better now...I just..."

Miguel holds your hands in his, occasionally letting his palms brush over your forearms with tender strokes. "It's okay. You don't need to figure out anything right now, cariño...." He gestures for you to come closer.

"I've taken the liberty of speaking to the police and the dean of the university myself. I will make sure those roommates of yours never come near you ever again."

You feel a chill down your spine. Even though you were angry and hurt, you felt nervous at the idea of them being punished. Surely now you would forever be blacklisted in their minds, a permanent subject of their torture from here on out, blaming you for their consequences despite them being a direct result of their actions.

"Miguel, you don't need to do all that..." You say cautiously. "I mean, I really appreciate you having my back and all, it's just, I don't know how I'm going to survive the rest of the semester. If they didn't like me before they definitely aren't going to now..." You shudder at the thought.

"Let me worry about that." Miguel says firmly, resting both of his hands on yours. "You won't need to worry about what happens next or seeing them again because I'm going to keep you here with me. You'll live here in the guest house until I know for certain that it's safe to send you back to the university."

"Oh..." You shake your head slowly. "No....no Miguel, I couldn't do that to you. I don't want to be a burden...."

"Stop."

Miguel silences you with a kiss, releasing a deep sigh, the chill from his bottled water brushing gently against your lips.

"Eh....sorry...what I mean is, I already have arranged for everything you need to stay here. I would much rather know that you're safe with me than send you back there. And you are never a burden to me."

Before you can say anything again, he pulls you back in for another kiss, making this one last a tad longer than the first, you feel yourself melt when his hand grabs your waist with the other one holding the back of your neck so you could be pressed a little tighter against him.

Miguel feels a little fire burning in him, but he knows he needs to be patient, especially with everything you went through tonight. However you feel yourself giving into your desires, the feeling of his lips on yours leaving you with a hungry sensation, having him so close to you and the way he touched you too electric to stop.

The next time your lips meet, you prod your tongue gently in the open space between his lips. Miguel groans softly, unable to turn you down and opens his mouth, permitting you to explore it with your tongue. His breath is fresh, the unique, succulent taste of his mouth paired with his cologne just steering you further down a road of temptation.

Miguel is a little flustered, having underestimated that the intensity of the fire burning within you was actually the same, if not bigger than the one inside of him. He chuckles softly with his forehead against yours,

"Now..." he raises one of his hands, laying the back of his knuckles against your cheek, his thumb delicately swiping the area under your eyes. "We should probably get you in bed, yeah?"

You exhale softly, "Okay."

Miguel smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips and sweeping you up into his arms without warning.

"Miguel?" You giggle at the gesture. Miguel smirks as he approaches the staircase, walking up it with you cradled against his chest. When you reach the top of the staircase, you notice the living room where you just were is visible on the other side. Miguel makes a left, walking to the end of the hallway, carefully setting you down before opening the door.

You feel your breath get taken away as you look at the large king sized bed, a thin white canopy drapes across all four corners of the bedposts, making it look like a luxurious cloud. Across from the bed is a fancy modern fireplace behind a panel of glass with a shiny marble mantle piece and another large television mounted above it.

On the far end of the room are French doors with glass panels covered by cream colored curtains that lead to a balcony with a small bistro patio set with two chairs and a table, perfect for reading or a cup of tea that overlooks the garden and swimming pool.

Miguel smiles at your reaction, watching you as you marvel at the beautiful room before taking you by the hand to show you the rest of it.

"Here is your bathroom..." He opens a door that's to the left of the fireplace. Your mouth falls open yet again at the open space, white marbled floors with a counter to match, a vanity with an ornate mirror, a shower with cream colored tiles and a waterfall shower head, an ivory golden claw foot bathtub and a separate water closet for the toilet which came with a bidet.

Miguel opens the drawers of the vanity and the bathroom sink, showing you where all the toiletries were: your favorite shampoo, hair conditioner, other hair care products you needed, as well as bars of soap that were both scented and non scented depending on your preference, moisturizer, makeup wipes, toothpaste, and a new fancy electric toothbrush that was charging next to the sink.

"Madge and Noir will have the rest of your beauty products you wrote down by tomorrow morning, as well as all of your medications you need." He says with a smile.

"And now back to the room..." He shuts off the bathroom light and guides you to the door to the right of the fireplace this time, leading to a walk in closet.

There's a gorgeous diamond chandelier on the ceiling, the far end of the room has a ceiling to floor mirror, on either side are racks of clothes. Dresses, sweaters, blouses, skirts, pants, even work clothes for school or work and something for every occasion, all matching the descriptions and brands you listed in your contract.

There's racks with several pairs of shoes on display nearly arranged ranging from fancy heels, to beachy sandals, casual street footwear, and boots. In the middle of the room is a cream colored ottoman sitting bench which is pushed up against one of the biggest jewelry cabinets you've ever seen.

When you open it, there's several black velvet rows with little LED lights that highlight the pieces on display. There are four elegant Cartier watches, Alex and Ani bangles with all your favorite charms you pre-selected that fit your personality and aesthetic, more Pandora bracelets and necklaces like the one Miguel originally gifted you that you can swap out depending on your mood, Swarovski earrings and necklaces adorning the holders, and a variety of Dior rings in the styles you selected.

You're damn near in tears from all of this attention, all of this generosity bestowed on you. Turning this night around from one of the worst to one of the best you've had in your entire life. Feeling like you must be in heaven, must be dreaming and not sure what you did to be so lucky. You turn around, jumping into Miguel's arms.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you...." you whisper, closing your eyes.

Miguel's eyes widen in surprise at first, but feels his heart melt as he bends down, bringing his hands to the back of your thighs, warmth pooling in his belly when you wrap your legs around him like a koala as he carries you to the bed. He gently sets you down on it. You feel the mattress dip below you gently. You run one of your hands along it, the fibers massaging against your skin.

You can already tell this bed will probably pose a huge threat of making you late in the mornings, with how heavenly and soft it feels. Nothing like the stiff, cardboard, twin sized mattress in your dorms that had been used and recycled between God knows how many users.

Miguel smiles, leaning over you to hand you his housewarming gift neatly packaged in a gorgeous gift basket tied with a red bow. Silk pink pajamas monogrammed with your initials that matches the robe in your bathroom, with fuzzy white slippers, as well as chocolate, sparkling champagne, bottled water, mints, Burt's Bees Chapstick, lotion, and some healthy chips.

"Here..." He pulls out one more bottle from the gift basket of room spray, giving a small spritz to the bed.

"For your pillow." He grins.

"It's lavender and vanilla, a nighttime medley. I use the same kind for my daughter, Gabi, on her pillows... It's helped her stay calm and sleep much better at night. Let me know if it helps with your headache." He lovingly strokes your cheek, setting the spray on your bedside table.

"You can put anything you'd like in here." He opens the bedside drawers of the nightstand. "There's a Kindle and iPad for your personal use. They are yours to have. My mother wanted you to have her Kindle because she went and bought herself a new one for Christmas." He chuckles.

"But this one is still extremely nice. Feel free to download whatever books you like to read on it. I trust you not to go too crazy." He winks.

"There's also tissues, allergy medicine, some melatonin, vitamins, spare chargers if you need them, the remote to the TV is also in here, along with the one that controls the temperature, lights, and humidifier. I just ask that you be conservative with the temperature changes. Usually around 70-72 degrees is more than comfortable for this room."

He brings his hands to your thighs, his smile gradually melting, eyes going a little half lidded as he runs them slowly up and down.

"Anything...else I can do for you before I let you go to sleep, love....?"

At this point, you don't care about your headache. You just want him. Right now. After receiving this absolute princess treatment and pretending to ignore all of the lingering tension between you two, it felt more than right to spend a little more time with him tonight. The dim lights and the luxurious room and mansion in the middle of his countryside property was just pushing you closer and closer to him by the minute.

"You're not staying with me...?" You whisper, a faint tease to your voice.

Miguel gives you a shadow of a smirk, letting his hands run a little further up your thighs, coming to very gently grip over the curve of your ass.

"I'll be in the room across the hall..." He says gently. "But..." He leans his face closer to you, lightly pressing his forehead against yours. "I can stay with you, if you wish."

You exhale softly as you feel his hands start to knead the plump flesh. "Yes please..."

He smiles, his eyes closed with his forehead still pressed against yours. He softly lifts your chin with his fingers, bringing your face to look at him. The look he's giving you could pretty much make you fall in love with him instantly.

Soft, silky orbs of the most decadent chocolate brown lovingly staring back into yours, with the faintest hint of hunger, something seductive and fiery that he was holding back behind them. You were more than curious to find out.

His lips part and he leans in, softly leaving his breath in your mouth, his lips barely ghosting over yours,

"Dime exactamente todo lo que quieres... ahora." He purrs.

You moan softly, tangling your fingers in his hair, making him sharply inhale more oxygen to his lungs, your body language pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

"Miguel...."

"Tell me....exactly, everything you want me to do, right now, beautiful....." He repeats, his voice hovering above a whisper. "I won't break the rules unless I have your clear, absolute consent...." He runs both palms against the side of your neck.

"Hmmm...? Dime, cariño...." (Tell me dear)

You feel your face get hot, biting your lip as you look up into his beautiful face. "Stay with me tonight..."

"And...?" He whispers with a smile, tickling your cheek.

"Make love to me..."

Miguel feels his body practically light on fire. He knew damn well that's what he was hoping for but hearing you say it out loud just made his excitement triple by the minute.

"Yeah....?" He stops smiling, biting his lip as he gently and ever so softly squeezes your cheeks between his fingers.

"Want me to fuck you, pretty girl....?" A lustful switch activates in his brain. He clenches his teeth hungrily.

"Please..."

He leans in, pressing sweet kisses to your neck, you groan and let your head fall back, giving him more access to your throat and chest, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He nuzzles his face into you, full lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hands run up and down your shoulders and arms.

"Have you done this before, my love....?"

"Mmm..." Your face is warm again as you nod slowly at him.

"I-I have..."

Miguel smiles, leaning in to kiss you passionately, sliding his tongue into your mouth, his hand grasping your chin, holding you still so he can make it deep, a subtle demonstration of his claim over you.

"Have you ever been with a man like me?" He asks softly.

You exhale carefully, voice slightly quivering. "N-No...."

He hums at this, a little smugness in his tone. "Well...if you're still sure, baby.... I'd love to show you....what it's like...to be with me. I'll show you just how a pretty thing like you should be treated..."

Your body is on the verge of exploding. "....Yes.....?"

"Yes, lovely girl..."

He smirks as he gently rubs his nose against yours, pausing for a moment when he notices your jacket. It's not in line with the usual style of clothes you wear. His brow furrows curiously as he tugs at it with his fingers.

"Whose is this?" He asks in a low tone, a slight hint of sternness.

"Oh-um..." Your face gets hot. "T-the guy at the game. Made me wear it. I was freezing. I'm, I'm so sorry...I should've said no...."

Miguel feels a slight annoyance at this, but he keeps his voice low, keeping a handle on his emotions for your sake. "You know my rules cariño..."

You bite your lip, stressed that you've upset him and killed the mood completely. "I know, I know, I'm so sorry Miguel...."

Miguel hums, slowly starting to unzip the jacket. "I know you are, baby...." He pauses as he watches the zipper coast downwards, letting the anticipation build for a moment.

"S'alright...." He breathes slowly, brushing his lips against your ear.

"S'not your fault, my dear..."

Without warning he rips the jacket off of you. You squeak in alarm, he holds you tightly against him, his hands gripping your waist hard, fingers digging into your skin as he ravenously attacks your neck and bare shoulders with his lips, nipping at them with his teeth.

"From now on...the only clothes that I will rip off your body...are the ones I buy you. Not any other man's. Understand?"

He takes your cheeks between his fingers, roughly bringing your gaze up at his, the silk brown of his eyes now gleaming with fire.

"You're all mine..." He whispers.

You shudder and moan softly, when you feel him grip your clothed pussy, the attention to the ache you felt all night long for him finally being satisfied with the warm grip of his hand.

He seems to take notice of your neediness as well, smirking as he moves his hand softly against your sex, his voice reducing to a purr with satisfaction at your weakness.

"See....you enjoy this yeah, my dirty girl...?"

He works his palm into a steady caress, the heel of his hand hitting against your clit. You let out a little whine.

"Shit....so sensitive....so weak to my touch...." He licks his lips, eyes drinking in every little shudder your body makes, coming to rest on your breasts.

"Miguel..." You're fighting to keep your eyes open, the pleasure coursing in your veins making them heavier than usual.

"That feels soooo good...."

Miguel smirks even wider, leaning in and continuing his trail of kisses on your neck, pausing to suck on your skin.

"Yeah....? Mmm good..... You deserve to feel good, cariño. Let me make you feel good...."

He lays you back on the bed, his hands dance underneath your shirt, another moan leaving your lips as the warmth from his palms make contact with your skin.

"Can I take this off, angel?"

You nod numbly, lifting your body and arms as he removes your shirt. He removes his sweater as well, unbuttoning his dress shirt halfway before he gets distracted by the goddess in front of him.

Miguel groans at your bare upper half, leaning in to lick and suck his way down the middle of your chest in the valley between your breasts, affectionately motorboating his face in between them and flicking your nipples with his tongue, leaving the sensitive buds perky before he coasts down to your soft stomach.

"Mmmm..." You arch your back, biting your lip as you give in to your own burning desire, letting yourself caress your breasts with your free hand while he indulges.

He chuckles against your skin, admiring how you're taking charge of your own pleasure, his eyes looking up at you from where his cheek is laid against your stomach, leaving soft kisses.

"That's a beautiful sight..."

He rubs his cheek against your stomach, pressing another soft kiss into it. "It's nice watching you enjoy yourself, baby. You drive me insane...."

He gently slides his fingers underneath the waistline of your pants.

"Open your legs..." He whispers.

You breathe deeply, letting your hand run softly, slowly down your body, giving your breast another tender squeeze on the way down, easing your knees apart.

"Lift your hips..."

You obey, your breath shuddering as he pulls your pants off your body, followed by your panties.

"God..." He groans. " Such a good girl...your pretty pussy's already wet for me...."

You gasp quietly as his fingers trace the top of your sex until they gently circle around your clit, softly pushing against it, as though it were a switch, your back arches and your mouth falls open, Miguel groaning above you.

"S'alright, beautiful...let me get you ready for me..."

He starts to softly, softly rotate two thick fingers inside your pussy, already wet with want, greedily welcoming any penetration as your walls envelope them, the soothing pitch of his voice arousing you, encouraging you to stretch yourself wider.

Miguel is impossibly turned on right now, using his free hand to unbuckle his belt and release his large cock from his boxers, allowing his aching length to flop against his stomach, angry tip blooming with precum already.

"Mig-"

He interrupts you with a soft kiss, making out with you passionately as his fingers curl and scissor within you, soft whimpers you leave behind in his mouth as your tongues slide and massage against one another.

He pauses and removes his fingers, the feeling within you empty for a moment as you catch your breath, but not for long as his mouth surrounds your pussy, his arms locking around your upper thighs as his tongue starts to lap up and down.

You pant, gazing up at the ceiling then down at him as you struggle to prop yourself up a little, your pretty lips open in a mixture of shock and pleasure as you watch him greedily lick and eat your pussy to his heart's content.

He moans at the taste, letting his tongue circle in a repetitive motion up and down as he nuzzles his face a little deeper into your warm cunt, your wetness transferring onto his whole face and nose as the tip of it prods at your clit.

You shudder and moan loudly, eyes shut as all you begin to focus on is the overwhelming wave of pleasure as you grind on his face, the way you can practically feel every creamy drop leak out of you and into his mouth as you fall apart underneath him.

No man has ever made you feel this damn good before. Never made you feel so womanly, so worshipped before tonight.

You lose yourself to the sensation of his tongue curling and rolling inside you, massaging and lingering in the plush spots that make your toes curl and flickers of light erupt your vision, letting yourself be completely vulnerable in this moment, alone, with him.

He studies you carefully, mind imprinting which angle of his tongue causes you to shudder the most, which soft spot inside your pussy makes you whimper the most desperately, memorizing your body as if it's a Bible as he continues eating you out on top of the master bed.

"That's it, almost there for me..." He licks your arousal off his lips, pussydrunk before reassuming his position.

"Dios, baby...those stupid little college boys can't make you feel this good, can they.....?" He smirks as he continues to lather your pussy with his warm tongue.

"N-No....only you baby...."

The knot in your stomach snaps and you feel your body turn to mush as your love seeps out of you, the sweet, sweet peak of arousal overcoming and absolutely wrecking you, sending shockwaves of overwhelming pleasure all through your mind and senses, lying there out of breath as Miguel pants, his soft stomach and dark happy trail with slightest hints of grey peppered in covered in a thick gloss of his beautiful sweat, a dazzling, satisfied smile on his face, pecs shiny and proud as his chest heaves up and down in simmering heat.

He peels off the rest of his shirt and clothes, leaving himself naked before you, the warm glow of the room making him look so godly, so entrancing under the scarce light as he positions himself above you, gently nudging your legs apart with his knees.

He leans in close, kissing you, your lips breaking apart a little from a sharp gasp you let out as you feel his fat tip massaging between your folds, the fullest part of the curve dipping in slightly, an agonizing tease.

"Miguel..." You whine.

"Cariño...?" He answers innocently with a smirk, as though he's completely oblivious to how much he's torturing you with not filling you up with his cock all the way.

"I need you..."

"That so, baby....? I'm enjoying this though...."

"Please..."

"I love hearing you beg, baby. It's so sweet..."

"Please, please fuck me Miguel..."

"Mmmmm...."

You both moan in sweet unison as he slides inside you completely.

"There...." He pants, hooking your thigh over his hip, squeezing it as he grips the headboard with the other. You cry out loudly for him, running your hands all along his dense muscle. His pride, ego and lust swelling as you admire and feel his strength, letting yourself become so submissive and cockdrunk underneath him as he snaps his hips lewdly against yours.

"Fuck!!....so amazing....Miguel....need you so badly..."

He cradles your head delicately in his hands, slowing down his thrusts, dragging his clock slower and deep within you, letting you really feel every inch.

"I know baby, I know...M'right here, baby..." He groans loudly as his cock strokes against a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

".....bet no man's ever fucked you this good hmm...?" He smiles as he pants above you, toying with your bottom lip as he continues thrusting slowly.

"Bet I can make my pretty baby so needy for this cock after tonight...."

"Oh....." You groan, closing your eyes as your lips meet in a hot sweaty kiss.

"N-Nobody has fucked me like you do....n-never felt so good in my life..."

"Oh...tell me more, you sweet thing..." He slowly tilts his head, caging you below him as he continues to slowly fuck you, the space between you more intimate.

"I wanna feel all of you....all the time..." You feel your eyes water, the vulnerability of the moment pushing you to confess your deepest feelings, the chemicals and hormones between you to driving you to spill the innermost contents of your heart.

"I...I don't deserve you. I feel so lucky.....I don't understand what you see when you look at me. I'm so addicted to you....your body, your voice, your laugh, everything...."

Miguel's eyes soften, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

"Oh cariño...but you do deserve me."

He leans in, pressing soft kisses, every word he speaks carries intention which swiftly translates into more passion in his hips as he begins to fuck you faster and faster.

"You enthrall me....you entice me....drive me crazy just thinking about you ever since the first day you showed up in my office..."

He buries his face in your neck, holding onto your hips.

"Know what I had to do after you left cariño....? Had to fuck my fist and think about you because you drove me so damn crazy..."

You pant, your eyebrows knitting when you feel another knot twisting itself in your stomach, preparing to snap.

Miguel groans, gently pressing his hand against the small bulge in your stomach, doubling your pleasure as he fucks you, edging himself closer to his own blissful end.

"You consume me....you're perfect.....you're mine, all mine. Sweet, sweet girl...."

You grab his face, kissing him passionately, he moans eagerly into the kiss, your sweaty bodies completely engulfed in the other.

"M'close...." He murmurs. "You are too, aren't you beautiful....?"

He interlocks your fingers together as he fucks you harder than before. Your back arches, legs shaking, struggling to keep your voice down, fighting to lock down your concentration on that one area that he keeps hitting so perfectly, pushing you dangerously close to the edge, dead set on falling off of it.

The heat in your core dials higher and higher, to the point you're practically screaming. You continue to hopelessly moan and pant, letting him hear your sweet chorus of pleasure as he continues plunging his cock in and out of your cunt.

Soon, a sea of arousal leaks out of you both, painting your lower stomach in his salty white ropes, his mouth open in shock as he gently coaxes any remaining cum from his cock, tenderly kissing you for several long moments, his body frozen above yours.

The blinding emotions of such an intimate experience nearly causing those three little words to slip through, practically screaming to be said, but he holds back for now, instead a warm look of adoration all across his face as he kisses you some more, a soft hum of satisfaction you purr quietly into his mouth as you return his kiss.

After a relaxing wash underneath the heavenly soft waterfall showerhead in your master bathroom and him lovingly massaging cleansing soap all over every sensitive inch of your body, you were tucked in his arms in your clean pajamas as he dimmed the lights with his remote, pressing one last loving kiss against your temple.

"M'right here, cariño....get some sleep...."

The hold that tiredness has on him is so strong to the point that he barely hears the quieted words you mutter in response before he's rendered unresponsive by the spell of sleep.

"I'm in love with you..."

Before you're gone as well, your hearts syncing in quieting rhythm alongside one another, the faint sound of crickets chirping outside your window in the peaceful countryside.

----

Tags 🖤🫶🏽:

@scaleniusrm @laysmt @to-the-endoftheline

@criessoft @bammzyboomy @thatone-writer @oharasfilipinawife @lauraolar14 @scaryplanetdestroyer @amberbalcom14

@ofmenanduhhhwellmen @2099hitmylineyline

@safixiovi @daddysfavoritesexkitten @tojishugetiddies @slushycoookie @1-800-choke-that-ho @peachey-pie

@leonsbimbogf @cicithemess @sassypossumm

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cheriladycl01 · 10 days

Text

How I love you - Multi Driver x Reader Part 1

Plot: The Heartstopper Charlie Monologue but for each driver!

Credits to uglyducklingofthe2000s for the GIF - one of my fav writers!

Max Verstappen

"I've been going out with Max Verstappen since i was 18. He likes Sim-Racing and Formula 1. Animals, especially our Bengal Cats. The feeling of a race win. The sound of a V10 around his home track. Cars. Playing Paddel with friends. Spa-Francorchamps. And staying at home"

"He also likes me..."

"His hair is a sort of light brown and his eyes are blue and he's 5 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion..."

Sergio Perez

"I've been going out with Sergio Perez since i was 24. He likes Golf and Formula 1. Football, especially his own team with friends. Collecting serious watches. The sound of his home crowd cheering him on. Our Dog. Singing in the shower. Tiramisu. And Sunday lunch after church"

"He also likes me..."

"His hair is black, but he's argue it's dark brown and his eyes are just as dark brown and he's 3 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion..."

Charles Leclerc

"I've been going out with Charles Leclerc since i was 14. He likes Soccer and Formula 1. Dogs, especially Leo Leclerc. Going skiing. The sound of the paddock on a busy Sunday. Ferrari. His ice-cream brand LEC. Piano. And yachting in Monaco"

"He also likes me..."

"His hair is brown, the lighter kind and his eyes are green and he's 6 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion..."

Carlos Sainz

"I've been going out with Carlos Sainz since i was 20. He likes Squash and Formula 1. Dogs, especially his family dog Pinon. Going on family holidays to Majorca. The sound of his old school MK6 Golf GTI. Surfing. Playing Golf in the off season with Lando. Cycling. And supporting his dad in rally races"

"He also likes me..."

"His hair is brown, almost black and his eyes are brown and he's 5 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion..."

Lando Norris

"I've been going out with Lando Norris since i was 16. He likes Golfing and Formula 1. Animals, especially dogs. Energy Drinks. The sound of Taylor Swift in the open air. DJing. Streaming with Max Fewtrell on Twitch. Music. And creating content with Quadrant"

"He also likes me..."

"His hair is dark brown and his eyes are blue or green, depending on the light and he's 8 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion..."

Oscar Piastri

"I've been going out with Oscar Piastri since i was 13. He likes Basketball and Formula 1. The Ocean, especially round Australia. Gaming. The sound of Taylor Swift coming from his team-mates room. AFL. Finding any small part of his ancestry to have as many 'home-races' as possible. Call of Duty. And getting into beef with Carlos Sainz"

"He also likes me..."

"His hair is brown and his eyes are light brown, and he's 2 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion..."

Lewis Hamilton

"I've been going out with Lewis Hamilton since i was 21. He likes Skiing and Formula 1. Fashion, especially Dior and Valentino. Roscoe. The sound of the beach waves when he's surfing in Miami. Monster Energy. The feeling of being World Champion. Singing. And getting into beef with Carlos Sainz"

"He also likes me..."

"His hair is black hair, normally braided but I go crazy when it's natural and his eyes are dark brown, and he's 3 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion..."

George Russell

"I've been going out with George Russell since i was 17. He likes Tennis and Formula 1. Mercedes, especially his team. Reading. The sound of his first race win in Brazil. Summer Break. Sleepovers with Toto Wolff. Alex Albon. And long drives through the British countryside"

"He also likes me..."

"His hair is dark blonde and his eyes are a sparkly blue, and he's 10 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion..."

Fernando Alonso

"I've been going out with Fernando Alonso since i was 26. He likes Karting and Formula 1. Comedy, specifically during media duties. Basketball. The sound of a tennis ball going back and forth. Football. Riding bicycles. Kimoa. And helping out at his karting school in Spain"

"He also likes me..."

"His hair is dark brown and his eyes are an even darker brown, and he's 2 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion..."

Lance Stroll

"I've been going out with Lance Stroll since i was 22. He likes Mounting Biking and Formula 1. His dad, specifically his finances. Golfing. The sound of saftey knowing he has a seat until his dad stops bank rolling a team. James Bond. Canadian Ice Hockey. Motorcycles. And drizzling maple syrup on waffles"

"He also likes me..."

"His hair is dark brown and his eyes are also dark brown, and he's 4 inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he's pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion..."

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

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jordyn14 · 1 month

Note

Hi can you please write a Joe x reader where they’re getting ready for a wedding (or some other formal event) But Joe is playing catch with their son and reader keeps telling them to come inside and get ready and Joe keeps saying 5 more minutes

Pairing: Joe Burrow x fem first person

Words: 2739

Notes: I have been swamped with finals this week and probably most of next week as well, but I’m still trying to find the time to write. I hope you enjoy!! <3

Taglist: @wickedfun9

“I’m almost done doing my hair, can you put Benji’s shoes on?” I called out to Joe who was just in the room building legos with our 5 year old son a little bit ago. As soon as I finished curling the last strand of hair, I flipped all of my hair to the front and looked at myself in the mirror for the millionth time and to my pregnant belly which was showing through my dress. About a week ago I started to show and I couldn’t wait to have another kid, especially if he or she was anything like Benji.

Today is the day one of my good friends get’s married to her high school sweetheart, and I am so excited. When we met at college my first year, I always talked about how I wanted a love just like hers. For one, their relationship was so stable. There was never a time when they wouldn’t trust each other or went behind each other’s backs because their relationship was built around honestly and loyalty. I never thought I would have that kind of relationship until I met Joe. People always talk about love at first sight, and I didn’t believe them until I experienced it with Joe.

After a few seconds of not hearing any response from Joe or Benji and not hearing the clattering of legos as they tried to make something new, I peaked my head out and saw the empty bedroom. I raised my eyebrow in confusion since Joe said they were all done and didn’t need to do anything else to get ready except put shoes on. Thinking that maybe they were one step ahead of me, I headed out of the room and downstairs where I searched and searched and found no sign of either of them.

All of a sudden, I could hear them playing outside. “That was a perfect throw dad!” Benji yelled from outside. I couldn’t help but smile as soon as I heard him and headed for the back door. I should’ve known that they were outside. As soon as Joe found out we were having a little boy, he bought all kinds of sporting equipment for kids so his son could try out every sport with him to decide what he liked best. Joe bought baseballs, basketballs, soccer balls, golf clubs, volleyballs, tennis rackets, and of course footballs. Every day leading up to the day our son could actually really use all of the equipment, Joe talked nonstop about how much he wanted him to grow up.

As soon as I turned the corner and looked out of the huge glass sliding door, I saw Joe and Benji throwing a foam football around the yard. The first thing that caught my eye was my perfect husband in a suit. Yes, a suit. Even though I knew the jacket and tie would come off towards the end of the night, I was so excited when he told me he was wearing one. Joe looks great in almost everything he wears, and he wears some pretty questionable things, but a suit always looks absolutely amazing. I could barely take my eyes off of him and the way his fluffy hair hung on forehead. Oh and that smile. It never left his face when he was with the people he loved.

After practically drooling over my husband for a few seconds while I walked to the door, I looked down at little Benji who used all of his might to throw that foam football all the way up at Joe who looks huge compared to Benji. It was adorable seeing him use every ounce of strength to muscle it up to him. Benji is a lot like Joe in the way that they are both extremely competitive. In baseball, Benji wants to field every grounder and hit home runs every single time. When he doesn’t, he cries. It’s heartbreaking to see him so worked up over something as simple as him not getting a hit or not being the best on the team yet even though he’s the youngest, but then I remember that he’s a lot like Joe in pretty much every fiber of his being. Benji is sensitive as well as competitive, and Joe’s been helping him so much with his little emotions.

When Joe caught the ball which was a perfect throw to his chest, he had the biggest and encouraging smile on his face and leaned his arm back to throw it back gently. Although I couldn’t hear Joe because he wasn’t yelling like Benji was, I could see him say, ‘that was great, Benji. This time, make sure to step with your left foot like I taught you.’ Benji jumped a little bit and yelled with a laugh, “oh yeah, I forgot!” Joe just chuckled and threw the football back to Benji who caught it.

When I got closer and Joe saw something walking towards him, he looked over at me and as soon as he saw me, his face lit up and he gave me that adorable and toothy smile that I love so much. The way he let out a relieved breath to see his wife coming over to him, the way clenched and unclenched his hands nervously, and the way he couldn’t take his eyes off of me made butterflies fly around in my stomach. Even though we’ve been together for years, it still feels like a little teenage romance. It always feels young and alive. I also couldn’t help but notice how his cheeks flushed red when he looked me up and down repeatedly, keeping his eyes on not only my pregnant belly but my face extra long.

As soon as Benji heard the door start to open, he looked at the door super quick and instead of throwing it to Joe like he was about to, smiled up at me, showing me that big gap in his teeth where he lost his first ever tooth just a few days ago. Just to make sure Benji didn’t wake up that night when the ‘tooth fairy’ came, Joe dressed up as a little fairy and went into his room to put the money under his pillow, although I said I could do it since I would be a more convincing fairy. Luckily Benji didn’t wake up to see just how different the tooth fairy looked in person.

“Did you see me throw the ball? I’m getting better!” Benji said and looked back to his dad and threw the ball. This time, he stepped with his left food and threw it perfectly to Joe. “You’re getting so much better at throwing. Pretty soon, you’ll be just like your daddy on the field.” I said with a smile. Watching them together brought me so much Joy, especially watching Joe be a dad, which he’s always wanted. “Really?” Benji said with a shocked look on his face. Joe chuckled at benji’s reaction. “If you keep practicing, I can guarantee you that you’ll be the best football player around. But right now, we need to go or we’ll be late.” I said, trying to get them to come inside and finish getting ready, since Benji now had dirt on his hands and they both had dirt on their shoes.

Right when I said this, Benji’s bottom lip stuck out slightly but was about to walk over to me when Joe said, “aw, 5 more minutes?” I glared up at Joe jokingly. Of course he decided to do this now when we had to go somewhere. We both held eye contact as he gave me those adorable puppy dog eyes, and then I looked to Benji who looked excited. “Yeah, 5 more minutes! Please mommy?” He asked me. Benji looked over at me and then to Joe who was still giving me those pitiful eyes. The next thing I knew, Benji was copying Joe and was now giving me puppy dog eyes as well. After a few seconds, I caved. “You guys are impossible. 5 more minutes if you promise to put on your outdoor shoes so I can clean up your good ones.” I said. “Okay!” Benji said and ran over to me.

Like his life depended on it, he took off his shoes and ran inside of the house, not wanting to waste any of those 5 minutes I gave him. “Grab your dad’s shoes too!” I called out to Benji who disappeared. While Joe headed over to me, I heard something hit the floor extremely hard and was about to run in to see if Benji fell when he yelled, “I’m okay!” Joe and I both let out a laugh as I turned to him as he was taking off his shoes. After picking up Benji’s, I grabbed Joe’s shoes from him. Joe then leaned down and placed a kiss on my lips.

“Thank you, we’re just having so much fun.” Joe said, wrapping an arm around me to pull me closer to him. “I know. I love watching you guys have fun. And you know what, you are a fucking dilf. Guaranteed, I will have the most handsome and sexy man at the wedding tonight.” I laughed. Joe reached down and squeezed my butt. I let out a little yelp, not expecting it, and slapped his arm while laughing. “Oh yeah? Well you’re going to be the most gorgeous and sexiest woman at the wedding tonight.” Joe said with that smirk on his face.

Just as Joe and I closed the distance between us and were about to kiss, Benji ran between the both of us and back outside so he could continue playing with Joe. Joe and I just looked at each other, wishing we had more time alone. “C’mon, we only have 5 more minutes!” Benji giggled and threw the ball up to himself so he could play catch with himself. “Okay, okay, I’m comin’.” Joe said and placed a kiss on my lips. Before he went over to Benji, he leaned in close to my ear until I could feel his breath on my neck. Shivers ran down my spine and I could feel my cheeks heating up. “We can continue this after he goes to bed tonight.” Joe whispered in my ear.

I sucked in a small breath and smiled like crazy as he backed up from me with that smirk on his face and went to play with Benji. I looked away from Joe and took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. The things this man did to me. He really didn’t even need to do anything special to turn me on or make me feel like the luckiest girl in the entire world. He did that with just one look. With one look he could make me weak at the knees and feel so confident and beautiful.

Once I calmed down, I walked inside and washed both of their shoes until they looked brand new. The whole time I was washing them, I looked outside to Benji and Joe who were giggling, laughing, running around, and having an amazing time. I couldn’t stop smiling as the realization of just how perfect our amazing life was. After 10 minutes, I headed back outside.

As soon as I opened up the door, Benji started walking over to me after tossing the ball to Joe. This time he wasn’t as bummed. “Oh come on, 5 more minutes?” Joe begged, throwing the ball from hand to hand and spinning it on his palm like he always does during football games and practices. Once again, Benji just looked at his dad with a shocked expression on his face at the fact that he asked for another 5 minutes.

I bit my lower lip and tried my best to hide my smile and instead look mad at Joe, but I couldn’t. “Please. We’ll be well behaved the whole time and I won’t ask to leave early.” Joe begged. I shook my head and rolled my eyes at him. “Whether or not I let you have 5 more minutes, you’ll still ask to leave early.” I said with a laugh, knowing Joe always asks to leave early at almost every single event we go to. Hell, he even asked to leave our wedding early so we could have some alone time together and not be surrounded by friends and family.

“I’ll eat all of my veggies. I promise!” Benji added in, trying to get me to give them 5 more minutes. Looking down at how adorable Benji looked, I caved again and was about to walk back inside. “Come and play with us. If you do, I won’t ask for any more time.” Joe said. “Yeah, come play with us! Come play with us!” Benji jumped up and down and ran over to me. I laughed as Benji grabbed onto my hand and tried his best to drag me with him. He let out a few grunts so I walked with him. “Okay, but only if you promise to eat up all of those green veggies and if you, Mr Burrow, act half as well behaved as Benji.” I said. “Yay! Ok, mom, be Ted, and I’ll be Ja’marr. Dad, you already know who you are.” Benji said as Joe tossed me the football he was holding.

Joe and I just looked at each other and laughed at what Benji said about Joe already knowing that he was in fact Joe Burrow in this game. Doing what Benji said, I walked over to Joe who gave me a wink, loving that I got to be his center. I rolled my eyes at him and punched his stomach jokingly. Joe grunted a little bit at the contact, not expecting it, and then smirked down at me. “Y’know, this games going to be more fun with you as my center.” Joe said while I turned around so my back was facing him. I laughed and bent down a little bit.

Then, I felt Joes hands on my butt and turned around to look at Joe. I put a hand over my mouth to try and stop myself from laughing at how this looked. “Well this looks familiar.” I said and started laughing. Just as Joe was about to make a comment about what I said, Benji asked, “what does that mean? Ted’s his center.” Both of our eyes widened a little bit and I looked back over to Benji who looked confused. “We sometimes play this game when you’re at school buddy.” Joe said, coming up with something quickly. I looked back at Joe with a shocked expression and sighed. Even if Benji had no idea what we were talking about, it was still weird hearing him say that to our son.

“Oh, that makes sense I guess. Alright, snap the ball!” Benji said excitedly and got ready to run and catch the pass from Joe. Shaking my head, I bent down a little bit again and once again felt Joe’s hands on my butt, but this time he gave it a little squeeze. Joe clapped his hands and then said, “Set, hut,” before I snapped it to him and he got set up to throw it to Benji. With a smile on his face the entire time, Benji ran to the side and caught the pass from Joe. “Touchdown!” Joe yelled and held up his hands. Just as Benji was about to stop, he slipped a little bit and fell straight towards the concrete patio.

“Ow.” Was all Benji got out as he came in contact with the ground. Both Joe and I started to run to Benji at his reaction, thinking he got hurt and was about to cry, but all he did was stand up and throw the ball at the ground like Joe does when he runs one in. Joe and I laughed before I looked down and noticed the big hole in Benji’s pants from skidding his knee against the concrete. Just as I looked down, Benji looked down at the hole in his pants and his bloody knee and said, “Oopsies.”I let out a little laugh while shaking my head and turned to Joe who was still laughing at Benji’s celebration. “Oh brother,” Was all I said, knowing we were going to be late to the wedding.

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tomorrcwz · 3 months

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✰ POLY/MULTI DRIVERS

[ preview ] here you'll find a masterlist with various drivers x female reader stories as well as a driver and his partner x female reader. I write small headcanons about driver in a post too!

[ tw ] spelling mistakes, throuples, smut, description of female body

[ mlists ] SINGULAR DRIVERS FOOTBALL REQUESTING

album aa23 ft lilymhe

vol 1. addicted to you sex gods two angels for alex dagger though my heart house on fire

vol 2. boyfriend things selfcare picknick golf

album aa23 ft gr63

vol 1. pinning threads revenge of a mafiosa filthy animals

album op81 ft ln4

helping hands ending desire blushing virgin mary stretched to tear on cloud nine

album pg10 ft cl16

lose yourself

album dilfs

positions

#˗ ˏ ˋ 🎤. . rina rants #[ important ]

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topguncortez · 10 months

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For Her Hand | Jake x Shy!Reader

Opposites Attract Masterlist | Main Masterlist

synopsis: Jake has a very important dinner with a very important man, even though he's already ask a very important question.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none, fluff:)

Jake was sweating.

He probably had sweat stains on the underarms of his dress shirt, and he was now worried that he was going to have to use the bathroom before James got here. Tonight was the night that Jake was going to ask for Y/N’s hand in marriage. . . even though he already proposed.

Jake knew it was soon, hell they had only been dating for four months and living together for one, but she was his one and only. Y/N was the only person Jake saw himself with for the rest of his life. Every night he dreamt of the life they would have together, the names of their children, what they would look like, the big house he would build her, and the garden that she would spend hours out in.

Jake hadn’t always had a good reputation when it came to women, and it was pretty well known. Throughout the academy and flight school, it wasn’t uncommon to see Jake leave with a new woman. There was a part of him who had spent years searching for the person to fill the void in his heart that had been festering from years of striving for his father’s attention and love. And Y/N was the person who filled it in a very healthy way.

When James first heard about Jake’s and Y/N’s relationship, he was not thrilled. He had seen flyboys like Jake before. He knew what they got up to on postings and detachments, and didn’t want his daughter to join the club of broken hearts. He had also seen and heard the broken cries of their partners when an officer walks off the ship and hands them a neatly folded flag. James felt ill every time he thought about his daughter being in that position.

But then he saw how they interacted with each other at the Naval ball, and Vice Admiral James “Hercules” Parker was proven wrong. He could see the love that Jake had for his daughter. And even though nothing was promised in their line of work, James knew he couldn’t stand in the way of true love.

Jake wiped his hands on his pants for what seemed like the thousandth time that hour as he looked around the restaurant for James. He felt like dinner was a more professional way to ask to marry his daughter than doing it over drinks at the Hard Deck or a round of golf, or blurting out in the middle of a meeting (like Coyote had done with Warlock). What made his nerves stay somewhat at bay was that Jake was kind of doing this all backward. He had already proposed to Y/N when he came home from his last deployment and she had said yes. Blame it on the heat of the moment and being a hairsbreadth away from death, but Jake couldn’t wait any longer without making her his forever.

“Jacob,” James said as he walked to the table. Jake stood up and greeted James with a handshake, “Missing Thursday night football for this.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Jake said and took another drink of his water. James eyed him suspiciously, seeing the young man's hands shake, as a waiter walked to the table.

“Anything to drink for you two, tonight?” The waiter asked.

“Top-shelf whiskey,” James nodded, “Make that two, neat.”

“Oh, I’m good with water,” Jake said. The waiter nodded and went to go get their drinks, “Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“I can see that,” James said, “Didn’t think that the ‘Hangman’ could get nervous,” Jake cringed at the way James said his callsign as if it were some sort of dig. Some sort of pass to let Jake know that he wasn’t good enough for his daughter, “What’s on your mind son?”

“I uh,” Jake scratched the back of his neck, trying to gather his thoughts, “I love you, daughter,” James nodded, “A-and I did this whole thing backward and I apologize for it. My dad drilled into my head that you always ask for permission first before you do anything with another man’s daughter. But sir-”

“James,”

Jake nodded, “James, I don’t ever want to see a day where your daughter is not by my side. When I thought I wasn’t going to make it back to her. . . well, it was the worst thing ever. I had to make a promise to her when I got back on solid ground, and I did. And now, I gotta make it right. If you would please grant me the blessing, I would love to marry your daughter.”

James looked at him for a moment, the silence becoming so thick between the two men. Jake felt a cold sweat go down his spine, but then he saw a smile break out across James’ face, “I knew this would come sooner or later. I was hoping for later, but,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black ring box, “She used to wear this around the house as a little girl. It was my mother’s.”

James placed the box on the table and Jake gingerly picked it up. Inside sat a beautiful diamond attached to a silver band. The diamond had to be nearly three carats and had smaller diamonds around it. Jake looked up at James, tears brimming his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask-”

James shook his head, cutting Jake off, “I did the same thing nearly thirty years ago,” James chuckled, “I lost my wingman and almost burned in myself. The moment I got home to Clara, I told her that I could not go back up into the sky without knowing I was going to have her forever. Then she dragged me to the courthouse that same day,” James shook his head with a smile, “I knew this moment was coming at some point in time, when 'dad' stopped being the only man in her life. The only man she looks at with those eyes. No dad is ever ready for that day, and one day, hopefully, you'll have the same experience."

Jake could only imagine the day he would have a little girl and hoped she’d look like Y/N. He could see it now, a beautiful daughter that had her mother’s beautiful eyes and smile, and her personality. If she was born with Jake’s. . . lord help them all, she was going to be a firecracker.

“Does this mean that I. . .”

“You have my blessing to marry my daughter.”

— — —

After dinner was over, Jake probably broke every traffic law to get home to Y/N. He smiled as he noticed the lights in the backyard were on and the sound of her giggle was in the air. He could hear the small barks of the German shepherd puppy he had gotten her as a companion for when he’s gone on deployments. Jake grabbed the bouquet of pink carnations and basically skipped to the backyard.

“Bring it back, Steve!” Y/N called as the puppy hustled his way back to his owner, “Good boy!” Steve’s attention turned the second that the gate to the backyard was opened. Even for a puppy, his barks were still loud, startling Y/N. She turned around, seeing Jake standing there with a goofy grin on his face.

“What are you-”

“Marry me,” Jake said, cutting her off.

Y/N giggled, “Sweetheart, I already said yes. Did you hit your-”

“Nope,” Jake shook his head and walked over to where she was kneeling on the ground. Steve growled a bit as Jake got close to his mother, “Hey, I was the one who adopted you and let you chew on the seatbelts in my truck.” Steve gave Jake a look, before trotting off into the backyard, “Animals.”

“Be nice,” Y/N playfully scolded, and sat down in the grass, “How did dinner go?”

“Went great,” Jake said, sitting down next to her and pulling her into his lap, “He gave me his blessing and gave me this,” Jake pulled out the ring from his pocket.

Y/N gasped, “My nana’s ring! Oh my god, I thought I lost that!”

“Your dad kept it and gave it to me,” Jake said. He grabbed Y/N’s hand and took off the fifteen-dollar ring he bought at Target that was slowly starting to turn green, “Now, we can make it official,” Y/N turned her head to look at him, “What do you say, Mrs. Seresin?”

Y/N smiled and turned in his lap so she was straddling him, “I think you should’ve told him I’m already Mrs. Seresin, but. . .” She tilted her head back and forth, “Baby steps.”

“Yeah, yeah, baby steps,” Jake smirked as he wrapped his arms around her waist and flipped them over. Y/N’s giggles filled the air as Jake pressed kisses all over her face. Her ring glittered in the moonlight.

taglist: @damrlova @shanimallina87 @phoenix1388 @mygyn @cherrycola27 @yanna-banana @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @startrekfangirl2233 @atarmychick007 @lunamoonbby @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @angelbabyange @callsignharper @dempy @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida @callsignartemis @starberryhorse @daggersquadphantom @gspenc @poppyalice2001 @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @t0kyoreveng3rs @frazie99 @spencvrr @kmc1989 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @toobouquet @malindacath @justenoughmadnesss @sagittarius-flowerchild

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inevesgf · 3 months

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MINE ALL MINE ⠀,⠀ stephen tries.

synopsis ✩ what it’s like dating stephen tries.

warnings: mentions of sex, f!reader.

authors note: oh god do i have big plans .. i absolutely love writing these lil headcanons so i’m planning on continuing that in the future with a few other creators in mind. currently whipped for willne + chris as ALWAYS — in the works of another chris fic which is going to be such a loonngg one. love yous x

• such a sucker for physical touch and quality time.

• no matter how busy he is with filming and with other events, he always makes time for you.

• date night is NECESSARY. you each switch back and forth every other week planning a date night.

• you both equally enjoy nights in and nights out together — but overall you both prefer to spend time alone together.

• fancy dinner dates? yes! mario kart dates where you scream and call each other cunts when you loose? yes!

• never a dull moment with stephen when you’re alone together. one moment he will be cuddling and kissing you and the next he’ll tickle you until you cannot breath

• equally loves to be the big spoon as he does the little spoon.

• loves to lay his head on your lap while you two watch a film together. he almost falls asleep every time you play with his hair but he LOVES it.

• very cliche, but in the best way possible.

• loves to surprise you with random little gifts like sweets when he stops by the shops, bouquets of your favorite flowers for special occasions and treating you to dinner even when it’s not date night.

• tits or ass? no, stephen is a THIGH GUY hence loving to lay his head on your thighs.

• loves giving more than receiving! likes to be between your thighs, leaving little love marks only he can see.

• likes pda, but isn’t excessive with it.

• will hold your hand when you’re out with friends and snake his arm around your shoulder as you two walk.

• when hes drunk, he’s a little more touchy.

• he’ll pepper you in kisses all over your face, allowing himself to be clingy towards you.

• i imagine one of the others who did football pub golf for chris’ channel having to text you to come get stephen after the shoot because he’s absolutely battered.

• snakes his arms around your waist the second he sees you gives you the wettest, yet short smooch on your cheek.

• very lovey when he’s sober, but MORE lovey when he’s drunk.

• when you get home, you insist he relaxes and drinks some water, but all he wants to do is lay in your arms and take a nap.

• the type of boyfriend to tell you he loves you at the most random times — whether you’re cooking, editing a video or even just sitting there doing nothing.

• prefers soft and slow sex compared to fast and lustful. just likes to be as close to you as possible

• talks about you a lot to his friends ( who find it so cute, mind you ), but this does result in them sort of making fun of him for it.

• the boys hit him with the “howd you manage that? she’s fitter than you” but he knows that doesn’t make a difference in your love for him.

• you two definitely have a shared playlist of love songs that remind you of each other and your favorite songs to listen to eachother. lots of djo, the 1975 and hozier on it!

• his music taste is basically just your music taste because of how often he listens to the playlist.

• obsessed when you wear his clothes. like this man will NOT stop staring at you when you wear his sweaters or his t shirts.

• half of your wardrobe is probably his old tees, but he does not mind one bit because of how gorgeous you look.

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emeraldenha · 1 year

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TAKE A SWING!

pairing: sporty bf!jaehyun x gn!reader | genre: established relationship, fluff | wc: +1.3k words | warnings: just jaehyun being cheesy

“Soccer?”

“No.”

“Basketball?”

“Nope.”

“Football?”

“Haven’t played it a day in my life.”

“What about golf?” Jaehyun attempts once again, turning his head to look your way as the two of you take an afternoon stroll through his neighborhood park.

Unable to return home for the holidays this year, your lovely boyfriend, Jaehyun, was ecstatic to use it as an opportunity to invite you to his hometown over break. And besides the stressful meet-the-parents dinner that awaited you the first night of your arrival, it’s all been smooth sailing from there as Jaehyun avidly showed you all his favorite places from his childhood. It’s a rush of both old and new memories overlapping simultaneously that you’re somehow able to sense despite not experiencing the former, but Jaehyun knows just how to paint the perfect picture for your mind to envision his little stories from photo album to reality.

Earlier during your walk to the park, you passed by some kids playing a seemingly competitive game of basketball on the basketball court and it washed Jaehyun with a wave of nostalgia, prompting him to reminisce on his flourishing sports life growing up.

Now, he was trying to get you to play a sport with him. Any sport. He was desperate for you to know how to play anything, badgering you with a list from off the top of his head.

“Yes, if mini golfing counts,” you answer with a chuckle, mindlessly swaying your intertwined hands back and forth. “I’ve only gone once though.”

It’s almost as if Jaehyun perfectly times stepping out into the sunlight after having walked through the shade casted by a line of towering trees, the glow on his face you can feel from him internally as much as externally.

“Perfect! Then we should go mini golfing for our next date,” he cutely declares, letting go of your hand for a second to bring you into a suffocating bear hug. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“You’re so dramatic!” you whine, but secretly, you love this side of him. When he loosens his grip on your waist, you’re greeted with his giddy, contagious smile. “You’re acting like I don’t already go out with you to games and stuff.”

His lips transform his blinding smile into a playful pout. “But you always make me explain what’s going on. Every. Single. Time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it when I do that. You always have this sort of golden flex in your eyes when you get to talk about the things you’re passionate about.”

He then goes from a pout to a smirk.

“What was that you said? A golden flex in my eyes?”

The next day, he talks your ear off about how excited he is all morning from the moment he wakes you up to get ready up until you’re in the passenger seat of his car. He’s definitely dressed in his golf attire for the occasion too—collared pollo shirt tucked into khaki pants in all their glory.

“Are you sure you want to drive?” you ask while buckling your seatbelt, frankly a little concerned.

You were the more comfortable one with driving in the relationship and that was a well-known fact. His car was practically your car. You even drove the entire road trip to his parent’s house, no prior discussion or agreement required.

“I can do it!” Jaehyun insists, starting the engine and carefully pulling out into the street. Not too long after, he almost swerves out of the lane he was in while trying to avoid a bird flying across the windshield. You don’t understand why he was so taken aback when it’s not like the car was going fast enough to hit the bird anyways.

“It still baffles me you have a license. Was the examiner watching you while half asleep? We’re going the speed of a turtle right now,” you tease, leaning your head back against the headrest as the music from Jaehyun’s playlist only adds to the rather calm atmosphere.

Suddenly, the car speeds up causing your body to lunge forward.

“Jae, you can’t just do that either! You have to ease into it!”

You would have smacked his arm if you weren’t so petrified that it’d cause the both of you to crash.

Amused by your reaction, his laugher rings through the air as you keep your eyes peeled on the road for the remainder of the drive.

When you get to the mini golf course and start playing, you learn that you feel like a loser standing next to Jaehyun for two reasons. One, your previous mini golfing experience was essentially good for nothing. Two, because of reason number one, Jaehyun was going easy on you and was still winning by a mile.

“I suck,” you complain like a child, as much as you hate to admit.

“Come on, you’re not half bad,” he attempts to convince you, but you don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth.

He had to say that. He’s your boyfriend, and he’s too kind. You could wack the golf ball all the way into the parking lot somehow and he’d still try to say you weren’t ‘half bad.’

“Says the guy who’s barely even trying. How do you make it look so easy?”

Grabbing your wrist to drag you to the next course without a word, he meticulously adjusts your stance, making you feel like your limbs were being possessed by a mannequin.

“Myung Jaehyun,” you warn, though it can only be followed by empty threats. You can already sense what he’s about to do, your heartbeat picking up its pace, because even though close proximity is an obviously familiar concept between the two of you, it still gets you each and every time.

Circling him arms around you from behind and drawing you into his back, his hands rest over yours on the golf club as he swings, nearly achieving a hole-in-one. You’re secretly glad that’s not the case though so he can hold onto you a little longer, but unfortunately, the ball makes it in by the next shot. You still cheer as if you had done all the heavy lifting, feigning an unaffectedness for his touch and choosing to tease him instead.

“Pulling that move? You’re so cheesy, you know that?”

“But you like my cheesiness!” he retorts, cheekily stealing a kiss on your forehead.

A flurry of laughs erupt from both your throats as you feel a buzz through your jean pocket. You take a step away from Jaehyun for a moment to check your messages while he’s filling out the scorecard for you.

“What are you on your phone for?” He asks once he notices, and while a normal and innocent question, you notice the slump in his shoulders and his big puppy dog eyes all in a quick glance.

He wants your attention.

“Nothing. It’s Sungho. He’s just asking me how to do something,” you say and promise it won’t take long in order to console him, tongue slightly sticking out of your mouth as you draft a response to your mutual friend.

You only make it halfway through what you’re trying to say before you feel a weight on your shoulder. Jaehyun’s head has found its way there as the tip of his nose tickles the side of your neck.

“I love Sungho and everything, but can we worry about him later?” he mumbles into your skin, face probably flushed red if you were to guess. He continues, “I wanted to come here to spend time with you. No interruptions. Just for today, please.”

‘I can’t say no to him, can I?’ you think, the temptation to cave in hitting you quickly.

Rushing to finish whatever sentence you were on, you press send and write a quick follow up text to Sungho that you’ll get back to him later before shutting your phone off.

“I’m all yours,” you say, craning your head until your noses are touching. You press a lingering kiss to his lips and the blissful feeling is enough to erase the world around you. “For today, tomorrow, and every day after that, I’ll be yours.”

“My cheesiness is starting to rub off on you.”

You only shrug. “I don’t know, I think you were right. I do kind of like it after all.”

main masterlist

permanent taglist: @icysungho

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jaegeraether · 5 months

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Sunsets and footballers (Part 49)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (44) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson Mini (6)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Jordan woke shortly after 7am, her body programmed to, regardless of how late she went to sleep. She was alone on the couch when she woke, a blanket covering her and could hear soft whispers as if they were trying to avoid disturbing her. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, looking over the back of the couch to YFN and Lucy who were sitting on the kitchen counter stools opposite each other. YFN winced as Lucy gently rubbed some cream into her palms. She’d been knocked down in Barcelona just a few days prior and although her knees had been protected with her pants, her hands had copped quite a scraping. She watched as they interacted, sitting close so their thighs were touching and looking at each other when the other wasn’t looking as if they were high-school sweethearts. She and Leah had been similar once, for seven years almost. After they’d broken up, Jordan had thought it was because she’d done something wrong at first, and then she thought perhaps Leah had just fallen out of that love for each other that she still felt. Seeing her around so often hurt like a knife in the heart. The thought that what was once the promise of a lifetime, reduced to nothing. Their sweet nothings, torn away, replaced by generic teammate speech and not even the good, fun kind like with Katie and Caitlin and Lucy, but the bad kind; the ignoring, the minimal words, the monotone, the lack of emotion as if Leah really wanted to get it through to her that she meant nothing to her anymore. It had broken her, and she hadn’t fought it.

She hadn’t seen the point. When Leah makes a decision, she makes a decision. Captain Leah Williamson. Truthfully, Jordan never felt like she was good enough for Leah with the dresses, interviews, events, paparazzi. With her fame and the expectation that surrounded her. It took a while for her to be thankful of that, because it had meant it was easier to understand why they broke up. It took a while, of course; with the five stages of grief. The denial came from shock and was immediate as her mind simply refused to believe it. The anger came next when she’d seen Leah laughing and enjoying herself around their friends. Then came the bargaining as she delved deep in herself to understand why and think back on their relationship to try and find the cracks, what she’d done wrong or what Leah had done that wasn’t so perfect either. She couldn’t find them, though. Leah was perfect to her. She was messy, stubborn, insistent, always being pulled every direction by people like a puppet. She remembered times where Leah had been crying on the couch with the pain of her endometriosis; Jordan tucking her in with some painkillers and a hot water bottle on her lower belly, and other times where she came home almost a shell of a person because she’d been stretched too far and hadn’t seen her psychologist in a while. But Jordan never saw any of those things as less than perfection. Leah always spoke about her imperfections, and Jordan had listened as she always did, Leah complaining about herself, and that Jordan probably wouldn’t remember anyways.

Truth is, she remembered a lot of those little things, she would just forget the things that weren’t so important to her. And with Leah’s self-proclaimed imperfections, came the happiness Jordan couldn’t forget. Leah loving to sing in the shower, so loud Jordan would chuckle at it from the kitchen. Her confidence. Her sense of humour. The fact that she never liked being the butt of jokes. Her love of golf. Her ability to drive confidence into a team, regardless of if she was captaining the side or not, just her presence and aura. She really tried to hang on the ‘bad’, but it wasn’t bad to her. Instead, the happy memories had flooded her mind and with that, Jordan fell deep into stage four of grieving. Depression. That’s when YFN had found her at the beach. She hadn’t known how long Jordan had been going for, but truthfully, it had been months. She’d only been at that beach for a week or so during the International break, however prior to that, she’d been sitting in whatever park she could find, just laying back and staring at the sky as it darkened. She thought she’d be stuck in that fourth stage forever, hitting her lowest point when she’d met the Australian. She was the perfect person at the perfect time. An unbiased ear, uninvolved in any of the drama of women’s football. Jordan hadn’t gone to anyone else because they were all so involved. Everyone knew Leah. She never realised just how much her whole life, all her friends, all of her everything was involved in the sport and the people in it. It was sobering and terrifying to be in that mind state. There had been times where she knew she should have reached out to someone, anyone, but she couldn’t. She knew if she spoke to Leah that she would have been there for her, but Jordan never let her know how low she had fallen. If she’d known, she would have dropped anything and Jordan knew that. Luckily, YFN had brought something else into her life. A different perspective, a different kind of friendship. Pure empathy and love from a stranger who just wanted to see Jordan happy again with nothing in return. Only after being around her and speaking with her did Jordan realise how dark her mind had become, and so she automatically gravitated towards the light that was YFN. Spending time with her and chatting about anything and everything, lots of which wasn’t football, which was new to her. She’d encouraged her to go on dates, and even held her feelings for Lucy aside. Jordan still didn’t know how she did that; just looking at the two, they were magnetic. And looking at them now over the back of the couch, Jordan realised for the first time that maybe this was a hard lesson she needed to go through, because now she was stronger, and if it hadn’t happened, she wouldn’t have a new friend, and YFN and Lucy would have never met.

Lucy finished rubbing the cream gently into her palms and turned them over, kissing her knuckles. She looked up and they shared that look that Jordan had seen often, the one where they shared their love with their eyes. It shifted slightly to a hint of melancholy at what Jordan could only assume was Lucy’s upcoming flight home that morning. Lucy leant forwards to kiss her when Jordan’s stomach growled loudly and they both spun to her. A moment of surprise was quickly overcome with sympathetic smiles.

“Morning Jords.”

“Morning Dory,” YFN untangled her body from Lucy’s and came over to lean over the couch. Jordan laid back down and stretched. “Good sleep?”

“I think it’s the best I’m going to get,” she admitted.

“What time did you say you had to leave…?”

“I have to be at training by midday. I’m lucky Carla has given me that off to be fair.”

YFN hummed. “Okay well you need to leave by 9:30. It’s currently…” she looked at her watch. “…7:22, so we all have a few hours together.”

Jordan rubbed her eyes again and yawned as she nodded. “What time is Lucy’s flight?”

“She changed it to 1pm so she can come to work with me for a few hours and see the new office.”

Jordan popped her head back up over the couch. “Don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

Lucy nodded. “Yeah, but my knee is being a pain. Jonatan knows I work hard so I’ve only trained a few days this week to avoid straining it. I have a boxing class tonight though which will be my work out before the game.”

“You’re playing?”

“The full ninety if my knee can take it,” she shrugged. “It’s El Clasico, they’ll have to drag me off.”

Jordan chuckled and YFN rolled her eyes, giving Lucy a look. She didn’t like it when she was in pain. “So we can all have breakfast together, if you want? Lucy’s favourite around the corner?”

Jordan nodded as she wondered where Leah was. It was early. She would be up and on her way to the oval, perhaps. She was training again, close to playing so-

YFN’s hand on her shoulder snapped her out of it. Jordan looked up at her. “How are you feeling about last night..?”

Of course, YFN had known what she was thinking about. She had that ability with people; she always knew what they were thinking. Jordan appreciated that because it meant she didn’t have to speak her feelings so much, which was the reason she’d gotten so low in the first place. She looked over at Lucy who was silent, and listening to what she had to say.

“I’m…overwhelmed I think. I’m trying to understand what my feelings about it are. I just started to get better… to potentially move on and… this.”

YFN nodded, understanding, and squeezed her shoulder. “What do you need right now?”

Jordan sighed. “I want to get back to what I know which is training for the game tomorrow.”

“But what do you want…? In this moment? Before you go home and try to figure it all out?”

YFN looked like she already knew, and just wanted her to say. Jordan knew what she wanted. “What I want doesn-”

“None of that bullshit, Jords,” she said. “What do you want?”

“It’s stupid…”

“Nothing is stupid. Be honest with yourself.”

“I don’t know if I will ever trust her again or let myself be with her again. But right now, knowing what she did for me without me even realising… and finally knowing that we weren’t broken after all… I just want to hug her. No talking, no awkwardness. I just want a Leah hug.” Leah hugs were the best part of her day, something she missed. It was pure comfort for her. But she knew she couldn’t have that-

“We can arrange that.”

Jordan’s teary eyes shot up to YFN’s. “What?”

“I’ll give Leah a call. No talking, no awkwardness, just a hug.”

“She has training,” she whispered.

“Not today, she’s a guest at a local kids football club this morning just around the corner.”

Jordan didn’t know that. She was nervous suddenly.

“Just a hug,” YFN reassured. “Then us three will go to breakfast before you head off to training.”

Jordan nodded and YFN bent down to give her a tight hug. “If she says no-”

“She won’t say no. And until she gets here, you’re just going to have to enjoy my hugs.”

Jordan chuckled and squeezed her tighter.

“I’ll be in the shower,” Lucy said. She wandered over and kissed YFN on the cheek when they finished their hug. “Join me after your call?”

YFN nodded and went outside to make her phone call while Jordan started packing her clothes. YFN didn’t take too long before she was back inside and joining Lucy in the master ensuite. “We’ll put more cream on these after the shower,” Lucy said, looking at her palms before pulling her close and kissing her on the temple. “You’re a really good friend, little one.”

YFN leaned into her lips, enjoying the love before they parted and she left Lucy under the water to grab her toothbrush. “So are you, Luce,” she said with a smile and began to brush her teeth all while unashamedly looking Lucy up and down.

“Like what you see?” She asked with a Lucy grin as she washed herself.

She couldn’t help but reach out and run her fingertips over Lucy’s abs, nodding.

“Good because it’s yours. Get used to it.”

“I’ll never get used to it,” YFN said around her toothbrush.

Lucy chuckled. “Oh, what happens if I get a belly after I retire?”

YFN spat out her toothpaste and put her brush back. “Well I know how much you like your food…”

Lucy looked offended.

“And condiments have a lot of calories…”

Even more offended.

YFN grinned and stepped back under the water with Lucy, one palm rubbing her belly. “I’ll love you with a belly, Luce. I’ll love you because you’re you.”

Lucy loved that. She took her wrists gently and dragged them up around her neck, her own hands moving to her hips to hold them flush together as she kissed her. The combination of her soft lips and the taste of toothpaste had her moaning into her mouth. How did she get so lucky? They kissed like that for a little longer before she pressed their foreheads together and opened up to YFN. She didn't even know she had anything more to open up to her, but the words just fell out.

“I’m worried nothing will feel like love again after you,” she admitted huskily.

YFN gasped; words were her love language. Along with all of the along love languages.

“Oh, Luce,” she murmured with affection and kissed her once before being cheeky. “Play your cards right and there won’t be an ‘after me’.”

Lucy chuckled. “There are different types of love, love. You know what I meant.”

“I know… and let’s see how you feel if we have babies.”

“Babies?!” Lucy asked, her head pulling back. YFN was shocked. Had she spoken too soon? One look at Lucy’s lit up eyes and she knew she hadn’t. “You mean ‘when’, not ‘if’.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Yes.”

YFN hummed. “You’ll make a really good mum, Luce.”

Lucy leant down and nipped her ear. “And you’re going to be so sexy pregnant.”

YFN bit her lip, feeling herself getting excited. She couldn’t help her body reacting to Lucy or leaning even more into her strong body. Lucy noticed, of course, and she pressed back as her hands moved down to her ass-

“Are you guys drowning in there?!” Jordan yelled from outside their bedroom. Somehow it was loud enough to hear.

“Just a minute!” YFN yelled in reply as she laughed. She looked back at Lucy who was still giving her a look. She scoffed and pointed her towards the shower door. Lucy pouted and gave her another kiss before she opened the door. YFN turned back towards the body wash as Lucy’s hand smacked her ass so hard, Jordan must have heard the sound. YFN yelped at the sting and turned but the shower door was already closed, Lucy laughing on the other side as she took a towel. Oh, the cheek of her.

YFN somehow managed to dry, get dressed and avoid Lucy’s hungry looks and teasing. It was barely manageable, and only because her focus was on Jordan. As she dragged Lucy’s little suitcase out into the living area, her phone buzzed. It was Leah.

“Leah’s here…” YFN said and watched as Jordan became even more nervous. She looked at YFN with those doe eyes of hers. YFN wandered over and put a hand on either arm. “Just a hug.”

“Is it stupid?”

“No. A lot of things can be said with a hug. You can forgive with a hug, and love with a hug. Go get what you need, Dory.”

Jordan nodded and walked nervously to the door. She paused and took a deep breath before she took hold of the door handle and stepped outside. Leah was leant up against her car, sunglasses on, arms crossed and staring down at her feet. When she noticed Jordan, she stood immediately and moved the glasses to the top of her head, her arms not knowing what to do by her side. Jordan wanted to hug her. Leah needed it just as much as she did. She waited for Jordan to approach her and when she came closer, Leah held her arms out wordlessly. Jordan fell right back into that usual spot she had for seven years, her head buried in Leah’s neck and her hands pressing into her back as Leah’s longer arms wrapped around her upper back, holding her close while her cheek rested on her hair. They stood there for a while, feeling each other’s chests rise and fall with each breath, feeling each other’s heartbeats through their clothes. It was a release of emotion and felt like safety to each of them. Safety in knowing they could still comfort each other. That regardless of what happened, they would always love each other.

Jordan only spoke when she was completely and utterly relaxed in her arms.

“Thank you for protecting me,” she whispered. Leah shivered at the feel of her lips moving against the skin of her neck. She opened her mouth and Jordan stopped her. “No…no, don’t speak. Please. This is all I can take right now.”

Leah nodded softly against her hair. Jordan started to let go slowly, reluctantly, and Leah unwillingly followed suit. Everything was at her pace now. Still touching, Jordan looked up and asked softly, “Can I pencil in another hug for Sunday night?”

Leah smiled and nodded. Of course, she could.

“And maybe dinner…” Jordan suggested, her eyes moving down to her shoes before she took a breath and looked back up.

Leah nodded again; her eyes soft. Whatever she wanted, she’d give her.

“Thank you,” Jordan whispered, sharing one more look before she stepped back out of Leah’s grip and walked back up to the front door. Leah watched her every step of the way. She had no idea how she’d ever been strong enough to push her away. Her whole being ached for her, already missing her touch, let alone everything else. But now she had something to hope for. Sunday night.

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jedi-luca · 8 months

Text

Avenger Lane Chapter 9: American Football

Summary: You and your wife Quinn move your family outside of New York City to Avenger Lane; a small private suburbia. There you face your toughest obstacle of your marriage. Will your marriage with Quinn be strong enough when a certain redheaded beauty captures your attention?

A/N: I promised I would drop something by the end of the week. Here's a small chapter. ;) I promise you Nat and Reader are happening.

Parings: Quinn Fabray x Reader / eventual Natasha x Reader(slow burn)

Warnings: Reader has a Penis

Previous Chapter. Next Chapter

It was mid morning in late August as you stretched your limbs breathing in the smell of freshly cut grass and morning dew. For a brief moment you were back on that old field at McKinley high. The track and cross country teams jogged. Coach Sue Sylvester calls the Cheerios practicing their pyramid sloppy babies. Coach Beist yelling at Finn for bringing donuts to practice. You were so far down memory lane that you didn’t even notice Natasha drive up on Clint and Laura’s golf cart.

“Y/N’s already running drills.” Clint chuckled, grabbing his cooler.

The three friends walked over noticing Quinn who sat at a picnic table watching you run your old football drills she too was reminiscing of the good ole days.

“Morning Quinn.” The three amigos grinned walking up as the blonde turned around with a smile.

“Morning.” Quinn said sweetly.

“See Laura, why didn’t you wear a shirt with my last name on it like Quinn?” Clint smirked

“Gross I threw those out years ago they all smelled.” Laura cringed, taking some contents out of her grocery bag.

“Where are the girls?” Natasha asked, looking around.

“With my sister and niece.” Quinn responded. “Where’s Bruce?”

“Oh he’s out in Manhattan working on a new project.”

“On a Saturday morning?” Quinn furrowed her brows.

“Science never stops.” Natasha smiled back, shrugging. “Are you playing with us too?” Gesturing towards Quinn’s T-shirt.

“God No, Y/N wouldn’t let me wear my old Cheerios uniform.” She rolled her eyes.

“Gotcha.” Nat nodded before walking towards you.

“Hey.” Natasha cleared her throat seeing you in light football gear. Some Shorts over tights and an old jersey on your back.

“Hi.” You grinned.

“You seem super psyched to get to play again.” She chuckled.

“Yeah it feels like riding a bike.”

“Sooo did you talk to Quinn about the job offer?” Natasha kinked her brow.

“Uhh not yet.” You gulped seeing her concerned expression you weren’t ready to tell people about the pregnancy it was still too early. Your wife hasn’t even gone to the doctor yet.

“Y/N-”

“Y/L/N!” Steve shouted from his jeep.

You waved seeing Bucky in the back and Peggy in the front.

“We’re finishing this later.” Natasha scolded you as the other’s walked toward you both.

“So a few people are late but I figured when everyone gets here you and I could choose teams.” Steve grinned, giving you a brief hug.

“Coin toss on who chooses first.” You nod.

“Sup broskis!” Thor grinned holding up a beer as he stepped off of Val’s golf cart. Carol and Val grabbed a couple of bags as Thor set a cooler on the ground before rolling it over towards the picnic table.

Soon Tony was parking his golf cart when you turned to your wife who was prepping everything along with Peggy and Laura.

“Can I get a golf cart?” You ask, feeling left out.

“What? No!” Quinn huffed.

“That’s what I said.” Peggy laughed.

“I never get fun stuff.” You grumbled.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Alright call it.”

“Heads.” You call out quickly.

“Tails.” Steve nodded.

You and Steve looked at Peggy who flipped the coin.

“Heads.” She announced.

Steve grimaced hoping you wouldn’t take his first pick.

You looked at the people before you before choosing your first choice. “Thor.”

“Hell yeah chosen first.” Thor fist pumped.

“Bucky.” Steve smiled in relief.

“Val.”

“That’s what’s up.” Val smirked, walking over and standing next to Thor.

Natasha internally huffed at you not choosing her.

“Sam.” Steve smirks.

“Picked second but that's okay.” Sam grumbled.

“Carol.” You nodded, you knew Carol and Val together was key. Plus you remember Carol mentioning soccer and lacrosse. Doesn’t hurt that Val and Thor played rugby.

“Tony.” Steve smirked.

“Sorry kid, too slow.” Tony chuckled, joining Steve.

“I think you mean you’re too slow, Old man.” You smirked back. “Clint.” He actually did play football.

“Ouch.” Tony huffed.

“Well Nat, come join the team.” Steve grinned.

“The betrayal.” she glared at you.

You chuckled. “I'm sorry Nat but everyone on my team has played sports.”

“I was in ballet!” she huffed shoulder checking you.

“Save it for the field Romanoff!” Steve clapped, having them huddle up.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

The score was 24 to 3 that was only because Natasha kicked their field goal.

You watched Steve snap the ball and your eyes went straight to Sam figuring he’d hand it off to his running back, but a flash of red caught your eye. You smirked; he thought he was slick. You began hauling down the field closing in on her.

“Gotcha!” You laughed, wrapping your arms around her waist, lifting her up. She yelped giggling as she held the ball. “Nice try gingersnap.” You smirked, snatching the ball from her grasp. “But you gotta be quicker than that.”

She looked at you with her jaw hanging. Thor and Carol laughed high-fiving you.

“Damn, Rogers, you have Spam, Tony, Bucky, and Nat. I have these misfits and still whooped that ass!” You chuckled, acting like you were bending them over.

“Damn it Steve I told you they would know the ball was with Nat!” Bucky huffed.

“Y/N is calling our plays before we even do them!” Sam huffed.

“Is she reading my lips?” Steve whispered before looking over his shoulder to see you flirting with your wife.

“Look at that, they're flirting, not even paying attention or huddling.” Bucky shook his head.

Steve frowned that his team was the only one in a huddle. You were too busy saying things you want to do to your wife, Clint was acting like he was humping the ball at Steve, and Val was also flirting with her wife. Thor was the only one practicing his throws only because his wife Jane said he was throwing sloppily.

“Let's take ten.” Tony muttered before walking over to you seeing your wife walk away to help Peggy and Laura with lunch.

Tony approaches you as you grab some water.

“Hey kid.”

“Hey Tony.” You grinned.

“So…You made a decision yet?” Tony asks for help.

“Uhh…” You look behind you to see if your wife was in earshot. “Some things came up and I haven’t-”

“It’s okay kid the job is yours when you’re ready.” Tony left before you could say anything.

“Hey Nat, walk with me, talk with me.” Tony muttered looking back making sure no one was close enough to hear.

“What’s up weirdo?” Natasha chuckled, falling in step with her friend.

“I found something out about Y/N, and Y/N deserves to know. I just don’t think it should come from me and I don’t want it to come from her parents.”

“What do you mean?” Natasha asked, slightly surprised Tony would know anything.

He sighed looking back leaning against a tree as he watched you talking to your wife.

“Y/N, was accepted into MIT on a full ride.”

“Wait what?!” Natasha hissed her neck, nearly getting whiplash.

“My buddy down at MIT said she was accepted but that someone turned it down.”

“Well it wasn’t Y/N or her parents. So that leaves…” Natasha trailed off as she turned to look at Quinn who had her hands all over you.

“Now we don’t know if it was her-“

“It obviously was.” Natasha tried her best not to glare at her.

“Look Y/N deserves to know, but I can’t break it to the kid. It’s going to break their heart. It could ruin them Nat, and all I could think about was Y/N’s happiness. They have been together since high school. They have two little girls… I just can’t.”

“So you’re putting it on me?!” She exclaimed.

“I can’t put that on Frankie and Sophia.”

“Tony-“

“Please?”

“… Well I know now so I guess-” Natasha sighed.

“Thanks Nat.”

“You owe me.” She mumbled.

“Deal, I’ll text you the documents.” He grinned before eating some raisins.

“Hey losers! S’go, I'm gettin’ hungry.” You shout, rubbing your tummy. “Babe, grab me a plate and a couple beers, I won’t be long. I’m having a victory feast after this.”

“You’re such an asshole when you play football.” Val snorted, giving you a light shove. “I love it.”

“Such a jock.” Carol grinned.

“You’re a dick, Y/L/N.” Steve laughed.

“Why are you so sure you’ll win.” Bucky, rolled his eyes playfully.

“You are down by 4 touchdowns!” Carol, flapped her arms.

“Romanoff, if I would have know you ran like that I would have picked you.” You taunt with a devilish smirk that makes her loins ache a little.

“You’re an ass for having me picked last.” She flipped you off with a laugh.

“Oh thank you I’ll use this later.” You grinned, flipping her the bird before putting it in your pocket.

“Woooow, you are a different person playing this game.” Nat gasped, laughing in disbelief.

“If you can’t take the heat, get outta the kitchen, Ginger Snap.” You smirked backwards jogging to your team.

“We have the ball losers!” Thor laughed, twerking his butt towards the other team

“Alright Revengers huddle up.” You called out. You ran through the last play before breaking the huddle and getting in line.

You all clapped before getting in line.

Thor began chanting. “Brooklyn 99! Brooklyn 99! Hut! Hut!”

Needless to say you scored one more time and won the game.

“Great game-“ you say to the other team high-fiving them. “Now move so I can eat. Big papa’s hungry.” You barked shoving past Sam and Bucky.

“I don’t think I like you this way. I’m calling your mother about this.” Tony huffed.

“Do it!” You taunt as Quinn sets your plate down with an ice cold beer next to it.

“Thanks baby.” You grin as she sits next to you.

“You’re welcome.” She smiles as you dig in.

“Wow, not even waiting for us.” Steve laughed, grabbing a plate.

“Winners don’t wait for losers.” You after taking a bite.

“I don’t know I kind of love this side of Y/N.” Carol shrugged as she and Val grabbed a plate.

“Honestly me too.” Bucky whispered to Steve.

The blond furrowed his brow at his secret lover. “Excuse me?”

“Oh come on! Look at Y/N!” Bucky huffed. “The muscles, the bulge. Calling themselves Big papa. Y/N is-“

“If you finish that sentence I swear.” Steve glared elbowing Bucky in the gut.

“Don’t be jealous.” Bucky grinned before slapping his ass in line.

“Shut up I’m not-“

“Oh you so are.” Bucky chuckled, grabbing a beer before following him to a table.

Steve gave him another glare before digging in.

Bucky chuckled at his jealousy before looking around making sure no one was watching. “You’re still the only thing I need.” He gently ran his hand near his inner thigh before eating.

Steve cleared his throat trying not to get a hard on. “Good.” He made a mental note to finally give that divorce lawyer a call.

“You’re right Y/N this is a victory feast.” Clint chuckled clinking his beer bottle with yours.

“Losers have to clean.” Val smirked.

“Except Nat, she's the only one who actually scored.” Carol snorted.

You were laughing when your daughter was calling your phone.

“Be right back.” You said standing up and walking away.

“So Y/N’s birthday is in a few weeks and I wanted to invite you all and let you know that its a surprise party. It’ll probably just be a glee/karaoke party Y/N had mentioned to me the other how much they miss singing and playing music.”

“That sounds great, Quinn consider us there.” Peggy smiled.

“Definitely.” Thor nodded.

“We won’t say anything to Y/N.” Val smiled.

“Oh Nat, will you please let Wanda know?” Quinn asked.

“Of course.” The redhead nodded.

“Sorry about that, our daughter just wanted the password to our Flix account.” You chuckled. “What did I miss?”

“Just Bucky's whining.” Sam rolled his eyes playfully.

“He’s a sore loser.” Steve chuckled.

“Okay, Sam, you cried when I beat you at Uno.” Bucky huffed.

“Hey! I don't cry.” Sam punched Bucky’s arm.”

“Now, now, boys, not at the table.” Nat smirked as Bucky placed his fist down.

“Sheesh I’m not playing cards with you guys.” You chuckled.

“Uh you’re kidding right? You moped the floor with us and boasted about it.” Bucky chuckled.

“Hey what can I say I’m a different person on the field.” You smirked.

“I kinda wanna see how you are at basketball.” Sam eyed you.

“Y/N was a point guard.” Quinn smirked.

“Baseball?”

“All star.” You grinned.

“Jeez.” Sam muttered.

“Why? Do you like getting your butt smacked?” You smirked.

“Alright Y/L/N I see how it is.” Sam cackled.

Natasha bit her lip watching the way you looked at your wife. She didn’t know how she was going to tell you, or even when, but she knew it needed to happen at some point. You deserve to know that someone close to you ruined your college career.

#natasha romanoff x reader #avenger lane #quinn fabray x reader

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aliaology · 8 months

Text

NEW JERSEY RED

summary: reader finds herself falling for the new jersey devil’s center even if her heart is supposed to lie with the new york rangers.

pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader

warnings: none..? just yn getting sappy as hell bc she fell for jack!! use of ‘daddy’ but not in a sexual way.

lowercase intended.

BASED ON “tennessee orange” by megan moroney

living in new jersey wasn’t much of a difference than living in new york, at least, not to you. at times it just felt less chaotic, in a way that made you miss the chaotic streets of nyc. but moving to new jersey to become a media manager for the new jersey devils was a pro and a con.

growing up in new york city, meant you and your family were very big rangers fans. your father had seasonal tickets, every year. you went to every game with him that you could.

when your family heard you now worked for the new jersey devils, it felt like hell broke loose. working for the.. enemy? now thats foul play, you just betrayed your home team! but you didn’t regret it.

see, there was this boy. specifically number 86, a center for the new jersey devils. jack hughes. he was cute, scratch that— he was hot. you, like many other girls, fell right at his feet. of course you didn’t out right do so or show that.

but he as well— fell hard for you, maybe even harder.

not only did you work for the ‘enemy’ but now you were fraternizing with one?

you had the day off, sitting at your now shared apartment with your current boyfriend of nine months. you didn’t tell your family about him, he didn’t tell his about you. the media had no idea that the jack hughes had a girlfriend either.

your thumb hovers over the call button. the stool under you creaked as you shifted your weight. you clicked the bright green button.

it rang until it didn’t, “hello?” the sound of your mother’s voice filled the room.

“hi mama.” you spoke gently. “ive got some news for you” you told.

“finally! i havent heard from you in so long sweet girl, please tell me everything!” you could hear her smile from the other end of the phone.

you smile. “just don’t tell daddy, okay? he’ll blow a fuse.” you chuckle.

your fingers tap against the counter as you anxiously listen to her laugh. “okay, sweetie. are you okay?”

“dont worry— im doing okay. listen— i know you raised me to know right from wrong, it aint what you think, promise.” you start.

“honey, you’re kind of scaring me.” your mother nervously chuckles.

“listen, okay? i um— i never thought i’d honestly see this day, seeing how scared i was with my past relationships—“ you cut yourself off with a nervous laugh.

“i met somebody.” you told. you heard a quiet gasp on her end.

“really? honey thats amazing! tell me about him— about your relationship.”

you let out a breath. “hes got blue eyes, the prettiest eyes ive ever seen, mama. hes so good to me too, he always holds the door open, he never makes me cry. there has never been a moment where he’s made me upset.”

“oh honey..” she trailed off, sounding happy.

“im not done, mama. last weekend he took me to michigan, where his family lives. we watched a football game, a college one. his brothers used to go there. he let me wear his cap that has been on his dash forever— mama i swear i fell even more for him under those stadium lights. hes perfect.”

“but..” you trailed off.

“but? there’s a but? honey… whats wrong?” your mother sounded concerned.

“mama, you cannot tell daddy— he’s gonna think its a sin. but mama hes a player on the new jersey devils— but forgive me, i really like him, mom. hell, im learning how to golf for him mama. hes perfect, hes got a smile, mama his smile is killer. ive never seen one like it.”

“honey… you’re dad is right here, listening.” you clamped your mouth shut. just your luck.

“does he make you happy?” you heard your father ask.

“yes he does, daddy. i know hes a devil but god you would love him! i know he aint where we are from, but he feels like home. hes got me doing things ive never done. he makes my stomach burst into butterflies, he makes me blush, he makes me feel loved.” you explained.

“and you know i still want the rangers to win, daddy” you told.

you heard him chuckle. “as long as he makes you happy, sweetheart.”

you grin. you stay on the call for what felt like hours, talking about jack. when you finally end it, you feel arms wrap around your shoulders and your chest. a kiss is pressed to your temple.

“i hope you know how much i love you” jack mumbled, trailing small kisses from your forehead to your cheek and your jaw.

“and just so you know, you look better in new jersey red than new york blue.”

i #hope this wasnt shit LMAO first time posting on tumblr 😻🤘

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #new york #new jersey #hockey #x reader #new jersey devils #new york rangers #song

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masonreds · 8 months

Text

mason mount x reader

summary: I don’t think I need to say much for this

word count: 4,8k words

There is no doubt that walking along the golf course was a marathon in itself. As you attempted to keep up with your boyfriend, Mason, walking ahead of you with much more energy than you had, you let out a deep sigh of frustration as you tried to keep up with him. You had somehow convinced him that having a golf date would be a good date for you, despite the fact that you were not interested in golf and had never played it.

‘C’mon Y/N, we’re almost there!’ Mason called out.

Having to walk to each of the holes was exhausting enough without having to walk to the top of a hill to get to each hole as well. You rolled your eyes, not being able to understand why a golf course was almost on top of a hill. ‘We couldn’t have, I don’t know, gone to the cinema or something that didn’t require working out? The Nun 2 just come out I think.’

‘Sitting inside of a dark room for an hour or so, when it’s a beautiful day? And you know I don’t like horror movies, it makes me sweat.’

‘Well I’m about to sweat walking up this godamn hill,’ you snarked, a light blush coming to your face as Mason gave you a playful warning glare at your attitude.

This definitely wasn’t that kind of date but it was hard to ignore the throbbing of your clit; and the polo shirt that hugged Mason’s torso perfectly, showing off his muscular build and his tattoos showing was exactly helping your problem.

‘I’d rather kick a ball than hit one with a heavy golf club.’

‘I can’t imagine you playing football,’ Mason chuckled, remembering the time he tried to teach you one his football tricks and you kept getting it wrong.

‘I’m saying hypothetically, to get me out of this and it might stop me from embarrassing myself.’

‘You do that enough already,’ Mason smirked, giving you a soft kiss on your temple as you rolled your eyes, ‘is this pick on Y/N day or something?’ He laughed it off as he grabbed the gold club and started to get into action. Seeing his muscles flex as swung the golf club, god, you could feel yourself soaking your underwear, you might just have to take him right there on the golf course. You flinched as he snapped his fingers in front of your face to snap you out of your trance, his amused face causing you to scowl lightly. ‘Enjoying the view, darling?’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ You huffed, trying to come off more teasing but it was clear as day that you were too flustered to do anything.

‘It’s your turn. Hey, if you ever make a hole in one swing, I might just let you best me at football,’ he whispered in your ear as he handed you your club, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

You rolled your eyes as you snatched the golf club out of his hand a little too harshly, smirking when Mason gave you an amused look.

It seemed easy enough, just swing and hit the ball. Couldn’t be that hard, right? Well you were quickly disproven by his much the ball went into the wrong direction you wanted it to go. Instead of going straight like you wanted, it swayed to the left. You hoped it was just the wind. You would just have to try again and hope for the best. You hugged in annoyance as you swung the club and completely missed the ball, only managing to violently remove a clump of grass. You bit your lip when you heard Mason sniggering behind your back, definitely watching you fail at a simple game with an amused grin on his stupidly handsome face. ‘This is impossible. How do you make it look so easy?’ Lightly stomping your feet like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

‘Here,’ Mason sighed, walking over to you, ‘let me help you.’

Positioning himself behind you, you tried not to shiver as his hands slowly travelled down your arms until they positioned themselves to cover their own, grasping gently. You could feel goosebumps rise all over your body as you felt his steady breathing on your neck, looking over your shoulder with ease. ‘Now you’ll need to pivot your right foot as swing, like this-‘ He pushed your right heel out with his own foot, guiding your arms and body to twist with him as he made you swing the club. ‘It’s simple really, just takes technique and practice.’ And he pulled all away too soon, his warmth leaving your back as he took a few steps back and motioned you to try it without his help this time.

After having him so close to you, you were surprised how you were even standing straight. How were you supposed to focus now? The feeling of his pelvis brushed up against your ass still echoed in your mind and you found yourself wanting to feel that again, and even more. Though you tried your best and swung, the club connected with the ball but your swing was too weak, the ball rolling down the grassy hill. ‘Well, that was a…start,’ Mason chuckled.

‘Oh shut it, Mount,’ you quipped, quickly making your way down the hill, not looking back to see his mocking smile.

‘Maybe I should’ve started you in the beginners course.’

You scowled. ‘Isn’t that for children?’

‘Yeah,’ he smiled

After finding the ball, you dreaded making a fool of yourself more than you already had, so you decided to do what you do best: flustering your boyfriend. ‘Can you guide me one more time? Just so I don’t accidentally hit the ball into the water.’ You chuckled, hiding a mischievous smirk. Always such a gentleman. You took a deep breath as he moved to stand right behind you and resumed the same position he had you in previously, your heart pounding, hoping that he won’t reject what you had planned for him.

You heard Mason inhale sharply as you wiggled your hips against his pelvis, his grip on your hands tightening. ‘What do you think you’re doing, darling?’ He asked darkly, the tone that made you ache for him more. You said nothing as you responded to his question with another wiggle of your hips, pushing back harder against him. ‘And here I genuinely thought you wanted me to help you,’ Mason grunted.

‘Who says I dont?’ You replied seductively, straightening your spine and turning your heard to whisper in his ear. ‘I just want you to help me in a different way,’ Mason’s heavy sigh turning against your shoulder.

‘You know we’re in public, right?’

‘Yes, and?’

‘You want to risk someone seeing me fucking you senselessly?’ You gasped when Mason gripped your waist tightly, suddenly turning you around in his hold. ‘You’d like that though, wouldn’t you? You want someone to see how good I make you feel, don’t you? Is that it, darling?’ You could already feel his erection pressing against your leg, the knowledge that you could make him so hungry for you so easily made you feel lightheaded, your knees threatening to buckle.

‘Yes.’ You managed to whisper out breathlessly.

You gasped as Mason suddenly connected his lips with yours, stealing the breath from your lungs from the feeling of his urgency, how desperate he was to feel all of you and you were just as needy. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your ass through your skirt, eliciting a satisfied groan from you. ‘Oh darling, if you wanted me this badly you could’ve just said so,’ he teased moving your underwear to the side and running his fingers through your slippery folds, biting his lip at the feeling. ‘I want to taste you,’ he spoke quickly.

You both wandered for a few minutes until Mason asked around because you didn’t want to get caught out in the open, a kind staff member pointing you towards a hall and saying how the bathroom was just at the end of it. Once you were both alone again, Mason suddenly stopped in his tracks just as you both reached the hallway.

You both rushed into the bathroom, Mason’s lips met yours in haste, trailing down your jaw until he reached your neck, your head tilting instinctively to provide him better access. His lips were heavy, to his hot as he sucked on your sweet spots, alternating from kissing and nipping, hard enough to earn low moans from you, but careful not to leave any marks on you.

‘You are quite courageous, aren’t you, angel?’ In order to force you down into his thigh, he murmured against your skin while his hands found your hips. He held you tightly to keep you perfectly motionless, without allowing you even the slightest comfort, and you whimpered when he flexed his muscles just once to be a tease. You were so enthused that you felt like your heart was nearly pounding against his thigh. ‘Don't get me wrong, I'm proud you're finding your confidence,’ Mason murmured before darkly chuckling at your neediness and lightly biting the area behind your ear. ‘But you need to learn when and where you’re going to show this devilish side of yours.’

He pulled your hands away from him, his fingers grasping your wrist as he pinned them to the wall, one on each side of your head, the marble cold against your burning skin. Mason's hoarse growl drowned out your whimper when he began rubbing himself into your hip. You could feel just how hard he was already, and it only made you want him more.

‘Can you see what you're doing to me?’ He mumbled, face buried in the crook of your neck, as he continued to grind his hips into you, his thigh flexing in the process and brushing over your clit. ‘Fuck, I didn't even know you had it in you, angel.’

With your mouth working faster than your brain, you retorted,

‘Well, the devil was once an angel.’

Mason suddenly bit your neck, his warm tongue gliding over the spot soon after, kissing it for a moment before he stilled and backed away, only slightly, so he could meet your gaze.

His brown eyes were lustful, the dark shade a tiny contrast to the way his cheeks were powdered crimson, but the colour of his skin matched the pink of his swollen lips perfectly. His hair was a mess and his jawline chiselled from the way he clenched it.

‘You sure you want it rough?’

‘Wouldn't have done everything I did today to rile you up if I wasn't,’ you confessed, almost breathlessly when Mason brought his right hand up, eyes never leaving yours.

With a soft sigh, you opened up for him, Mason slipping his fingers in with a low hum, carefully pushing deeper, eyes looking through yours for any signs of protest to which he found none.

Then again, this wasn't the first time his fingers found their way inside your mouth.

When you started to swirl your tongue around them, his eyes lowered to your lips, his focus trained on the way you were taking them in almost at the knuckles, a low murmur reverberated on the back of his throat.

‘Given the circumstances, I'm only giving you a taste of it for now,’ he murmured, his other hand holding your face firmly, thumb caressing your cheek tenderly. With a nod, you hummed around his fingers, Mason's gaze finally meeting yours as he chuckled.

He pressed his fingers down, imitating the weight of his cock when it's on your tongue. Your eyelids fluttered close, murmuring to yourself, merely enjoying the sensation of your mouth being full as you began to suck. Mason groaned deeply and jerked his hips, slamming his firm length into your hip as he pushed his fingers in and out of your mouth.

‘Fuck, the things I'm going to do to you when we get back home,’ Mason pondered, a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest as you whimpered around his digits, watching how you tried to press your thighs together only to be blocked by his strong one. ‘Guess you're excited for that too, huh?’

Tapping your cheek with his other hand, you opened your eyes and stopped. Mason pulled his fingers out gently, bringing a string of your spit with him once he did so.

He praises you, ‘Good girl,’ in a deep, harsh voice that contrasted with the soft whine you gave out at the already-familiar name, which you adore hearing slip out of those gorgeous lips.

Mason pulled you away from the wall, quickly spinning you around to face the mirror. He stepped behind you, your head swiftly turning to look at him, but you didn't get the chance because he gripped your chin and forced you to look back in front, your eyes connecting with his through the reflection. ‘Keep those pretty eyes on the mirror or else I'll stop.’

He then placed one arm around your torso, bringing you close till your back was pushed against his toned chest, his rigid length pressing square against your ass. His lustful gaze was drawn to your reflection as his chin rested on your shoulder, his warm cheek against yours. Mason urged you to keep your legs apart, his spit-coated fingers working their way down and beneath your skirt, disappearing straight in between your legs.

When Mason placed his wet digits on your clit, your body jolted and you flung your head back, your eyes fluttering close with a faint moan. In an attempt to calm yourself, you placed one hand on the nape of his neck and the other on his forearm, which was draped over your tummy.

‘What did I just tell you?’ You could hear him murmur against your neck, his voice filled with warning. Mason hummed approvingly as he put a lovely peck on your skin, and you instantly dropped your head to gaze at your mirror again. ‘Good girl.’

When Mason began drawing circles around your already throbbing clit, you let out a low sigh. When you tugged at his hair, his grip tightened, your fingers digging into his forearm as you tried to keep your legs steady under you while keeping them apart enough for easy access.

‘Can't believe we haven't done this before,’ he whispered, his gaze fixed on the reflection of himself in the mirror. You were battling to keep your own eyelids open, having already been reduced to a quivering mess by his fingers that weren't even in you yet. He kissed your face lovingly, his grin big and confident as he leaned back against your shoulder to meet your gaze. ‘We look great together, don't we?’

‘Yeah, we really do-‘ you interrupted yourself off with a cry as Mason began massaging your clit quicker, shockwaves flowing through your body.

Your legs began to shake beneath you, and moans were increasingly impossible to control. It was almost humiliating how quickly Mason had you in this state.

And, in your defence, you'd been horny for quite some time. All of the teasing wasn't only torturous for Mason; it was also torturous for you.

‘Definitely buying a mirror to put by our bed after this,’ he mumbled almost to himself as he proceeded to make work with his fingers, alternating from stroking to flicking, knowing just when to press harder and when to go softer that would make all your senses go erratic in the finest of ways.

‘But still, look at how fucking beautiful you are, angel,’ he exclaimed, planting soft kisses on the side of your neck as he kept his gaze on you, the speed of his fingers never slowing, your skirt swaying in time with each flick of his wrist. ‘Did you see what I had to deal with? I knew it was going to be tough for me to stay focused the moment you walked out of our room in this beautiful skirt.’ Tilting his head to the side, he said, almost condescendingly, ‘Though what I didn't take into mind was you causing the actual trouble.’

When he started flicking your clit with his middle finger, you bit your bottom lip to suppress a loud moan. As you bucked your hips against his hand, you felt a knot in your stomach that was already beginning to twist.

Mason know your body like the back of his hand, so he knew you were close hence why he pulled his hand away.

You whined in protest when he pulled his hand away, but Mason completely ignored you as he pushed your shoulder, making you lean over. You did as you were told, gripping the edge of the counter with a shaky breath, your eyes following Mason's movements through the mirror as he stood behind you.

‘Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to control myself around you today?’ As he grunted, he lifted your skirt so that you were fully exposed for him and him alone, the coolness of the air somewhat soothing to your sweltering body. ‘How could I keep my hands off you in this fucking skirt?"

‘I can feel just how hard.’

You gasped as your body jolted forward with a gasp as a harsh smack rang through the air. As the sting of Mason's palm smoothed itself over the tingling skin of your ass right after,

That comment earned a hard spank.

‘Keep pissing me off, I dare you,’ he warned through gritted teeth, his glare sharp when you met his eyes on the mirror.

There was no doubt in your mind that Mason would not hesitate to leave you here unsatisfied. He won't even care about his own pleasure if it means he's teaching you a lesson. So, you bit your lip and stayed quiet, a pleading look covering your features, a silent apology glossing over your eyes.

Mason raised his brow at you, ‘That's what I thought. You know it's not difficult to change my mind, sweetheart. Should be thankful I'm even giving you something right now.’

Mason stretched your legs wider, a chill going down your spine as the cold air contacted your wet cunt. His gaze was fixed on your folds, which were now in full view of him, his head tilted, bottom lip hooked between his teeth with a sharp inhale.

‘So pretty,’ Mason said almost in a trance, keeping your skirt up with one hand on the small of your back and the other running up your inner thigh till his finger was ghosting over your sparkling core.

He touched your clit tenderly before sliding backward to tease his finger against your opening, and you moaned as he began spreading your slickness about.

‘This is definitely not the best stance when it comes to golf, But far apart enough is just how I want it,’ he remarked, winking as he smirked at you in the mirror.

When Mason inserted his finger, you bit your bottom lip to keep the loud groan from escaping.

He mumbled, ‘So fucking gorgeous like this,’ with his head bent to the side and his eyes darting between the mirror and the way his finger was slipping in and out of your cunt. When he added another, you bit back a scream, tightening your hold on the counter as he continued to angle his fingers downward to hit your G-spot. ‘I'd be lying if I say I haven't thought about having you in this exact same position out there the whole day.’

Your boyfriend is always a sight to behold when he's in this element, so you did your best to keep your eyes on Mason in the mirror to see how he was taking you.

‘Tell me more?’ As he proceeded to fuck you with his fingers, the movements grew faster and you asked gaspingly as your pants and gasps filled the bathroom. Your hips buckled to meet each thrust.

‘Fuck, I was thinking about where I could park the golf cart so no one could see while I bend you over and fucked you senseless.’ His eyes looked up at you as you tightened your grip on his fingers, tilting his head towards you smugly as he scoffed, ‘Yeah, you'd want that wouldn't you, angel?’

‘Mase,’ you wailed in outrage as he withdrew his hand, leaving you absolutely empty once again.

His hand cupped your chin, his thumb lightly tracing the outline of your jaw. His touch was gentle, but his voice was stern. ‘Be patient or I'm going to leave you here like this,’ he warned, keeping his gaze locked with yours as he brought his fingers up.

You felt the anticipation building up within you as he slowly, teasingly, trailed his fingers from your ass up to the small of your back, before pushing one finger inside of you. His finger moved in a slow, circular motion, teasing out a moan from your lips before he pulled it out and replaced it with two fingers.

He laughed, jerking his attention away from your cunt to meet your eyes in the mirror. ‘Never thought I would ever have sex in a public toilet let alone toilet at a golf course,’ he remarked. ‘First time for everything, huh?’

Your bones filled with contentment and a tiny bit of triumph upon learning that some of Mason's firsts were also your own as you responded with a lazy yet proud smile.

The second Mason pushed his tip into your entrance you decided to use your other hand to grab his, intertwining your fingers together. You wanted to feel more connected to him as he moved inside of you, and his hand in yours was the perfect way to do it. You felt his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand as he thrust into you, and it only increased the pleasure you were feeling.

‘Fuck,’ Mason hissed as he threw his head back, his eyes screwed shut with a low, rumbling sigh as your walls flapped to fit him all, gradually pressing until you were full to the brim. With a hard, quivering breath, he shook his head, his gaze falling to where you two were now linked. ‘I'm not going to last. Darling, you always feel like fucking heaven.’ He tightened his grasp on your hip, his stare locked with yours, and smugly remarked, ‘Now, let's see if I can break my own record of making you come in five minutes.’

Your breathing became erratic as Mason moved, and you felt your body trembling with each thrust. You were powerless to stop the moans and whimpers that escaped your lips as you felt the pleasure radiating through your entire body. You had never experienced anything like this before, and you were quickly losing yourself in the intensity of the moment.

He was fast to settle into a rhythm, each and every one of his thrusts fueled with the rage that had been building up for hours, all because of you. And now he was taking it all out on you in such a brutal way, putting you rightfully back in your place with deep groans following each snap of his hips as he drove into your cunt exactly as he promised.

Just like you wanted and exactly how you loved it.

His hands were tight around your hips, his body pressing against yours as you felt the pleasure build inside you. His cock filled you and your muscles squeezed around it as your orgasm started to crest, rising higher and higher until it broke over you in a wave of pleasure and bliss.

You could hear the sound of your own moans echoing off the walls, which only seemed to spur Mason on even further. His breathing was ragged and heavy as he continued to take you with an intensity that left you feeling breathless and aroused.

‘Cum for me, baby.’

His hands cupped your hips as you both moved together, faster and faster as if you were both aiming for something that was just out of reach. You felt his muscles tense up beneath you as you both reached the climax of your pleasure, and he called out your name as his own orgasm took over.

‘Hi there my beautiful girl.’

You felt a warmth blossom through your chest, the way it always did when Mason smiled. His touch was gentle, and it seemed to fill the room with a sense of comfort and security. You wanted to stay here, like this, forever, just the two of you in this moment of bliss.

‘Here, sit down,’ he murmured, reaching up to lift the toilet lid before gently setting you on the seat. ‘Just give me a sec, okay, my love?’ he murmured, pecking your lips quickly.

You nodded and tried your hardest to slow down your heartbeat. As you relaxed on the seat, the numbness in your legs gradually went away.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, one hand running up and down your thigh in comfort as the other cupped your cheek.

‘Amazing,’ you breathed out, leaning into his touch with a bright grin and a blissed-out look on your face.

‘Yeah?’ Mason nodded with a quiet giggle, pulling himself forward to kiss your lips before looking adoringly at you.

You nodded. ‘And tired.’

He hummed, ‘I bet you are,’ and soon after extended both of his hands to you. ‘You think you can stand up for me, love? Standing up will make it easier for me to tidy you up a bit.’

‘Mase, I got it-‘

He interrupted you, kissing your forehead before helping you back to your steady feet. ‘Let me,’ he said, cutting you short.

He urged you to hold the edge of the counter and bend over again, but this time without malice. Mason took a couple wipes from the package before bending down and tapped your inner thigh, instructing you to spread them wider. He gently cleaned you clean, careful and loving touches around your sensitive bits, a short apology departing his lips anytime you wince when he mistakenly nudges them too hard.

‘You good?’ He asked flashing a soft smile at you

‘I’m good,’ you hummed as you stood up, threw the wipes away and then went to the sink.

Mason then curled up next to you, placing his front against your back and his arms around your waist. He literally latched onto you while you washed your hands, leaving a path of kisses from your covered shoulder up the side of your neck and back to your shoulder. Once you turned off the tap, he wouldn't let you leave or even move, stretching his legs into a split while he went to get some paper towels from the wall dispenser so you could dry your hands.

You couldn’t help but giggle, always finding it quite endearing how Mason’s rather clingy after sex.

Once finished, you rotated while still in his grasp, both of your arms encircling his shoulders. Before he put his powerful arms around your waist, his hands reached over to iron out the fabric of your skirt.

‘You want to put your underwear back on?’he asked, softly brushing the tip of your nose with his.

When the simple reminder of what you two had just done a few minutes earlier was brought up, you hesitantly stated, "I think I'm a little sensitive to put it back on," shaking your head no. You anticipate that the reminder will stick with you for a few more hours.

As the words left your mouth, the room suddenly felt tense. Mason’s expression shifted from one of enthusiasm to one of concern. His brows furrowed and a look of worry crossed his face.

‘Does it hurt?’

‘Just a little sore,’ you hummed, preparing yourself for Mason’s usual round of check-ups.

‘Was I too rough?’ he whispered, eyes looking through yours hesitantly.

‘Mason, you were perfect,’ you stated genuinely, your look full of honesty as you held his brown hues, before cupping his warm cheek. "You're always perfect."

Mason nodded softly with a quiet breath of relief, the apples of his cheeks going crimson as he leaned in to kiss you adoringly, gently squeezing your waist in appreciation. He drew away, tilting his head at you. ‘You sure you're feeling okay?’

"I promise, I'm good,’ you laughed, but there was no doubt in your tone whatsoever.

He chuckled shyly, turning his head to kiss your palm tenderly. Though a second later, a smirk graced his lips. You felt your heart burst at the seams, a bright smile erupting on your lips.

‘I’m glad you’re mine,’ you whispered, meaning in more things than just now but also, how lucky you truly are to call him yours.

He smiled and pulled you closer, letting you know without words that he felt the same way. His embrace was a reminder that you two were in this together, no matter how difficult things got. He was your rock, your support, and your partner, and you were so grateful to have him in your life.

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount smut

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