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javiscigarette · 4 months

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Teacher's Pet, part II

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: Joel gives you a few more lessons and a few more feelings start to surface. (Picks up right where part one left off so I recommend reading that first!)

Warnings: unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, oral (m!receiving), fingering, thigh riding, dirty talk, ungodly amount of pet names, unprotected sex, virginity loss (it's the real deal this time), he's back and more annoying than ever but still just as sweet, disgustingly fluffy at times, reader has hair he can run his fingers through but no other physical descriptions, no use of y/n

w/c: ......10.5k I am so sorry

a/n: It's here! I kept changing my mind with how I wanted this to go so hopefully I landed on something good. I'm absolutely still blown away by the amount of love and support you guys gave on part one :'))) you are all incredible. Hoping and praying this one lives up to everyone's expectations

Part One

my masterlist

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense is betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you. "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me." "The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to." "Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.” "That's some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Getting on your knees for Joel Miller wasn’t exactly on your agenda for today.

Not that you’re really complaining.

He doesn’t look bad from this angle, you have to admit. His chest looks broader from where you are on your knees in front of him, if that’s even possible. His hair is messy and tousled from where your fingers pulled and tugged with a pretty red flush spreading down his neck and chest, and the soft curve of his belly looking positively sinful.

“First lesson is how to take a man’s pants off,” Joel starts. “Think you can handle that? Or do you need a demonstration first?”

You scowl up at him, his words pulling you out of your transfixation on his body.

“Shut up,” you hiss. “I can take your pants off.”

He grins and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Go on then. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but take a steadying breath, trying your best to calm your pounding pulse and trembling fingers as you reach up for his belt buckle. The metallic jingle has your heart fluttering in your chest, and you make quick work of the rest, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans until they’re hanging open in front of you.

You stop for a moment and glance up at him. He’s looking down at you, a soft encouraging smile playing on his lips.

“S’okay, baby. Keep goin’,” he murmurs, nodding his head once.

You give him a small nod and a tight swallow around the lump in your throat, dropping your gaze back to the task at hand. Gently, gingerly, you hook your fingers in the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down simultaneously.

A tiny, barely audible gasp escapes you when his cock springs free and bobs heavily in front of you.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, too stunned to stop the words from slipping out.

“Just Joel if fine, actually.”

You barely even register his jab and you definitely don’t have the bandwidth to come up with any kind of witty comeback right now, your mind too busy processing the sight before you. Sure, you’ve seen plenty of dicks before, the internet can be a magical place. But this, in person, up close and so real, is an entirely new experience.

He's big, thick, heavy, and long with a slight upward curve. The tip is flushed a deep pink, shiny with smeared precome with more beading at the slit. A few thin veins run from his base to his tip up the length in a twisting pattern, the dark hair at his base neatly trimmed. And he’s hard, so much so that it looks nearly painful and your stomach flutters know that you're the one who did that to him.

"You can touch it, y'know." Joel says softly after a few moments of silence. "It ain't gonna bite."

"Oh my god" you groan, bringing up a hand to scrub down your face as he pulls you out of your awe.

"Again, just Joel is fine."

He laughs proudly at his own joke and you drop your hands in your lap and stare up at him in disbelief.

"Oh c'mon! You walked right into that one, no need to get all-"

He cuts himself off with a hiss, the air escaping between his teeth and his head falling back as your hand wraps around him, squeezing just a little too tight to be pleasant. He staggers half a step backward, hips jerking away from your grip.

"You were saying?'' you ask sweetly, grinning up at him.

"Fuckin' christ, woman. You're tryin' to get me off not break it off"

You loosen your grip a little but keep your hand still and look at him with expectant eyes, waiting for further instruction. It's not that you don't know what to do, you just don't know how to do it well. How to do it for him.

You want to do well for him.

The realization should alarm you, scare you even. But you find it only spurs you on, only makes the want burning inside of you even more potent and pressing. You want to make him moan, gasp, make his body writhe beneath your touch. You want him to be breathless, shivering, and panting with pleasure. You want to make him come undone, just like you did for him.

"Okay" he starts, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. "Lesson two is learning what he likes. Everyone's a lil different, but the basics are the same."

The nerves in your gut twist almost painfully, the anxiety of it all getting you half a second away from tapping out.

But your decision is set in stone when he drops his hand to yours where it’s wrapped around him, giving a light squeeze before he starts to gently guide your movements.

"Start slow,” he starts, a light strain tainting the edges of his voice. “Nice and gentle. Wanna work up to it."

You nod and watch, focused intently as if you were actually a student in class as the head of his cock disappears and reappears in your fist. His hand covers yours nearly entirely as he drags it up and down while you try and memorize where he squeezes a little tighter, when he swipes his thumb over the head.

“Can give a little twist at the top,” he murmurs, voice low as he demonstrates what he means. “There you go, baby. Just like that,” he sighs when you do the same.

Once satisfied, he removes his hand, letting you take control. You continue to pump him, trying to replicate the movements he just showed you. His cock is a warm, heavy weight in your hand, twitching and pulsing every now and then when you twist your wrist just right or swipe your thumb over his head like he showed you, collecting and spreading his precome to ease your strokes.

Your confidence builds with each stroke and soon enough you start to experiment with your pace, switching between faster and slower. He gently rocks his hips in time with your hand, unable to resist thrusting forward just slightly.

The fire inside you burns even hotter at the shaky breath that he lets out above you, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire before settling low in your belly, your core aching and pulsing with it.

"This good?" you ask concerned, your voice barely above a whisper.

He lets out a breathless chuckle and looks down at you with heavy lidded eyes.

"Yeah, honey. Real good," he rasps, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You match his smile, biting your lip and basking in his praise, a warm, gooey feeling spreading outwards from your heart to the tips of your fingers and toes. It's like he has a direct link to the inner workings of your brain and body with how effortlessly he can make you melt, with just a soft, easy smile and a few well chosen words.

"Should I...do you want my mouth?" you ask, glancing between his flushed, leaking cock and his hooded eyes.

"God yes, baby. J-just start slow. Lick the tip, get a feel for it. Don't try to take too much right away," he instructs, his voice constricting more and more with each word.

"So I shouldn't try to fit all of your giant cock in my mouth on my first go?" you quip, raising a brow.

"Please don't" he chuckles. "Don't want ya pukin’ all over the place. Might kill the mood," he adds with a grin.

You shake your head and let out a light laugh, the sound trailing off into a content hum when he brings his hand to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, dull nails scratching lightly at your scalp.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh, leaning into the touch.

"You love it."

You do, so, so much.

"Now c'mon. You've got work to do," he teases, his hand gently tugging at your hair.

You comply easily enough, leaning forward and tenderly swiping your tongue across the slit, licking up the precome that's gathered there. He hisses, a rush of hair pushing past his clenched teeth as his cock twitches in your hand, a fresh bead of precome forming.

With your confidence renewed by his reaction, you do it again, pressing your tongue flat against the slit and swirling it slowly around his swollen tip all while your hand still works him at a steady pace.

Emboldened, you take it a step further and close your lips around him, sealing them around the head to give him a slow, experimental suck. The groan he rewards you with has sparks shooting down the length of your spine.

"That's it. Good girl. Just like that," he pants, fingers tugging and tightening in your hair.

His praise washes over you in another wave of warmth, a feeling akin to a full-body shiver that has goosebumps breaking out over your skin. It strokes your ego, pride and confidence filling you as his soft moans and grunts fuel the fire burning in your belly.

Encouraged by the way he’s already falling apart, you take him a little deeper. It’s only a few inches but your lips are already stretched wide, a slight ache already settling in your jaw from how wide it's being forced open.

You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock while you start to bob your head, trying to match the pace of your hand. But the motions are new and unfamiliar, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated and when he hits the roof of your mouth, your gag reflex kicks in forcing you to pull off quickly, coughing and sputtering.

"Easy. Easy," Joel soothes, his fingers scratching at your scalp again. "Try to breathe through your nose. And don't don't force it, yeah? Feels good, just the way you were doin' it."

"Sorry," you apologize sheepishly, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Ain't nothing to be sorry for. S’your first time. It takes practice. Now, c'mon. Try again. Nice and easy. And if this man tries to-"

But you're not in the mood for another Joel Miller Life Lesson, especially when he’s about to mention the other man who's name you can barely even remember anymore.

Thankfully, his words dissolve into a groan when you take him back in your mouth, your lips wrapping around his sensitive head, tongue flat where it slowly glides down the underside of his cock as you take him deeper.

The ache in your core is quickly growing more and more incessant. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers and tongue on you, your inner thighs wet and sticky with the memory. And the sinful sounds he’s making, whispered curses between breathy moans and grunts, are not exactly helping your case.

You manage to take a little more, his thick cock stretching your mouth wider, forcing your jaw open even further. You gag slightly around him again but you’re determined to push through it this time. YOu squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in harshly through your nose as saliva dribbles past the tight seal of your mouth and drips onto your hand, your fist diligently pumping what you can't take.

He responds with a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking forward, chasing after the sensation of your throat convulsing around him.

You're still only a little over halfway down and it's a quick realization that you'll never be able to get it all down your throat. Maybe you can try and practice, but it’s practically a pipe dream to even think about getting his whole cock into your throat without choking to death on it.

But that's a problem for another day.

For the next time.

For now, you hollow out your cheeks and suck as you pull back, tongue swirling along the underside until his cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your swollen, spit-slicked lips to his glistening tip.

You use your hand to spread the wetness, mixing it with the precome that's leaking steadily from the flushed head. The smooth glide allows you to speed up your pace as you look up at him through your lashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

He's staring down at you with hazy, lust blown eyes, his jaw hanging open, panting heavily.

"How am I doing, Professor?" you tease with an innocent smile. A lazy grin slowly spreads on his face in return.

"You’re a fuckin’ natural, baby," he mumbles, his hand moving from where it's tangled in your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of your flushed cheek, "My good girl."

And maybe, most likely, the words slipped out unintentionally, the heat of the moment forcing out things that he doesn’t really mean. But all the alarms and sirens in your head warning yourself to not fall too deep into this trap that is Joel Miller with his pretty words and sweet praises and soft smiles are all dead silent right now. There’s not a single part of your brain that’s trying to resist him right now. You doubt you could even if you wanted to.

Because he just called you his girl.

His.

To say you’re fucked would be the understatement of the century.

You hum, pressing your cheek into his palm, wanting, needing, craving more. More of his touch, his taste, his warmth, his cock, his praise. So you take him back in your mouth with a renewed determination, spurred on by his words, wanting to prove to him that he's right, that you are his good girl. Determined to show him that you can make him feel good, that you can please him, that he'll want more of you, need more of you.

And judging by the way his grip on your hair is almost painful, his thighs trembling as he holds himself still, fighting the urge to jerk his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat, you'd say you're doing a damn good job

"Makin’ me feel so good, baby. So fuckin' good," he pants when you take him a little deeper.

You whine quietly around him as you press your sticky thighs together. White hot heat pooling low in your belly, your neglected cunt throbbing and aching, slick, wet, and messy.

You squirm in your spot, rubbing your thighs together and grinding down on nothing in desperate search for the slightest bit of friction. You pray that the movement is subtle enough for Joel not to notice.

As if that’s possible.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Joel starts, his tone annoyingly saccharine and condescending as he smirks down at you. “Did we forget somethin’ important?”

Another small whimper is all you can muster, too focused and preoccupied with the way his thick length is filling your mouth, the weight and taste of him on your tongue dizzying and addicting.

“Well look at that,” he coos, his hand leaving your hair and sliding down your cheek to cradle your jaw. He swipes swiping over your bottom lip that’s stretched around his length, smearing the spit that’s gathered there.

“Think I finally found a way to shut ya up. We should’a done this a long time ago. Woulda saved me a lot of headaches,” he chuckles, the sound dissolving into a sharp hiss when you dig your nails into the tender skin of the back of his thigh, hard enough to leave a mark.

You pull off his cock with a wet pop, jaw aching as you glare up at him.

"I'd shut up if I were you" you warn, the threat of your words completely lost in the breathless, desperate way they leave your mouth. "Just one good chomp is all it would take" you add, clicking your teeth together for emphasis.

But Joel's face just splits into a grin, a full blown, infuriating smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Biting huh? Now that’s a little kinky. Didn't know you had it in you, sweetheart."

"Shut up," you snap, but it still lacks any real heat, not with the way your lips are twitching at the corners, fighting a smile, your eyes undoubtedly sparkling, your heart definitely leaping out of your chest at the way his eyes are boring into yours.

"Careful, sweetheart. Might have to knock you down a whole letter grade for that type of talk. Gotta respect your professor ‘n all, y’know."

"You're insufferable," you grumble.

"But yet, here you are, still on your knees."

"And I'm gonna get up and leave if you don't stop talking."

"Leave before or after you chomp my dick off? Cause I'd really like a heads up for that, if ya could."

"Jesus fucking christ, Joel!" You huff, rolling your eyes so hard it actually hurts. "Do you ever just shut the fuck up? I'm literally on my knees right now with your dick in my mouth and you're still finding ways to piss me off!"

“What can I say? It’s a special talent of mine,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, the smug smile on his face making you want to genuinely bite his dick off now.

You drop the wet hand you had wrapped around him and start to move to your feet.

"You know what, I'm just gonna go. Maybe I'll call my coworker. He's not nearly as irritating as you," you huff, pushing yourself up onto shaky legs, your knees stiff and sore.

But you can't even take one step before he's grabbing your waist, his large, warm palm resting firmly on the swell of your hip. His fingers flex, his grip tightening, not enough to hurt, but it's enough to halt you in your tracks. You're not particularly fond of the way your heart skips a beat in your chest, the way you can feel goosebumps breaking out all over your body from just his touch.

He pulls you in closer until your chest is pressed against his, hard, wet cock pressed against your bare thigh.

"You really think you’re gonna leave with your pussy drippin' all over the place like that?” he says, his voice seamlessly switching from teasing to low and rough as his dark, hungry eyes bore into yours. “You're about to ruin my floors with the way you're leakin' right now, baby. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment from how easily he was able to see your desperation, and with anger at how right he is.

"Shut the fuck up, Joel," you mumble, giving him a weak push at his chest. "I'm not leaking I-"

The rest of your sentence stays lodged in your throat when his free hand slips between your thighs. Two deft fingers drag through the slick mess, collecting your arousal and spreading it around, a soft, wet, obscene sound filling the space between you.

You don't even think to stop the high pitched, breathy whine from escaping your lips when he slides a thick finger inside you with no warning, your pathetic sound dissolving into a moan when he immediately follows it up with a second one, his palm pressed flat against your clit.

"Not leaking, hmm? Sure don't seem like it, baby," he purrs, his voice a low, rumbling drawl, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. "Feel that? How easy it was for me to get two fingers in ya?"

"Fuck," you whine as you dig your nails into the bare skin of his shoulder, hanging on to him and desperately searching for any semblance of stability as you try not to sway on shaky legs.

He crooks his fingers in you, fingertips digging into the spongy spot on your front wall that has your knees buckling, tiny stars dotting your vision momentarily as a rush of arousal gushes out of you, a pitiful whimper falling from your lips. Joel chuckles, low and dark and the sound shoots straight to your neglected clit, a bolt of lightning arcing down your spine.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he murmurs, nosing at the sensitive skin below your ear, the faint scrape of his beard against your cheek sending a shiver down your spine.

The feeling of him removing his fingers is a cruel, sudden jolt, the emptiness and lack of pressure and friction has you keening, a needy, impatient noise bubbling up from your throat.

He's moving before you can complain though, stepping around you to sit on the edge of the bed and then promptly pulling you down onto his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise as he forces you to straddle his thigh, pulling you down until your aching cunt is seated firmly against his bare skin. The position has his cock pressing against your hip, a drop of precome smearing against your skin.

"Fuckin' soaked for me, honey,” he drawls, his fingertips dimpling the soft skin of your hips. “And to think you were about to leave without gettin' what you came here for.”

You can't even speak, too enraptured with the feeling of his strong muscles flexing subtly under your hypersensitive clit. So you ignore his teasing and just grind down instead, past the point of desperation.

But he would never let you win that easily, would he?

He laughs and tightens his grip on your hips, stopping your movement and holding you in place.

"Ah-ah, not so fast, baby. Let's talk about the terms first."

You give him the best glare you can muster while suppressing a needy whimper.

"Terms?"

"Yeah. Terms. Of all this. Like if this is a one time thing, or if we're gonna be havin' regular...lessons," he replies, his hands slowly sliding up your waist and coming to rest on your ribs, his thumbs stroking the undersides of your breasts.

"If you're gonna go out with this guy," he continues, his thumbs brushing over both of your nipples. "Or if I'm the only one who's gonna get to see this," he says, leaning forward, his warm breath fanning over your skin. You bite your lip, holding in the soft, needy moan threatening to spill out when his lips press to the hollow of your throat.

"If I'm the only one who gets to have you like this. If I'm the only one who's allowed to touch you. To kiss you," he says, punctuating his last word with a kiss to the center of your chest, his hands squeezing the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking out and licking at your nipple.

"Or do you plan on letting him have you too?" He asks, the tip of his tongue swirling around your nipple before closing his lips around the pebbled peak, sucking it into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing it before he pulls back. "'Cause I'm not too keen on sharin', baby."

You take a deep steadying breath, trying to clear the thick haze that's clouding your mind and focus on his words, his questions about the fucking terms.

And you do think about it, about your coworker who's been nothing but so sweet to you, who doesn't get on your nerves in under a millisecond. The coworker, Micheal, you think, his name finally returning to you, who doesn't tease you and play games and leave you a panting, needy, dripping mess.

And while he is really such a perfect gentleman, he isn’t the one that’s been there for you, listening to you complain about all the shitty things that have happened to you in the last year. He isn’t the man that lets you use him as a punching bag whenever you’re frustrated, has never been the calm, reasonable voice that challenges the anxiety that overwhelms you and threatens to pull you under.

Michael has never held you when you've cried, never helped you cook dinner after a hard day at work, never fixed the flickering light in your bathroom. He certainly has never dropped a key to his front door in your palm accompanied by a lopsided smile and the words just in case ya need anything.

Michael isn’t the one who’s been the one to pick up your pieces and put you back together, so gently and tenderly, making you even better than you were before.

It's useless, trying to avoid it. Trying to push it down, bury it, ignore it, how you've been feeling and what you want.

It’s Joel.

All of it.

You want Joel.

All of him.

You've wanted him since the day you showed up on his porch with a six pack. You've wanted him all those times you watched from a distance as he fixed something in your house, so capable and competent, casually waving away your slew of thank yous. You wanted him every single time he invited you over for a movie night, sitting close enough to you on his couch that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. You wanted him every time he made your blood boil and your eyes roll so hard you swore you could see the back of your brain, and every time you genuinely thought you were going to smack him.

And now, you have him.

Right here, naked and hard and underneath you, your pussy leaking on his thigh.

The answer is so painfully obvious, the words falling from your lips before you even have a chance to process them.

"M'not gonna see him," you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Want this. Want you."

Joel hums, indicating that he heard you. But again, he would never let you win that easily.

"Speak up, baby," Joel says, releasing your nipple with a soft pop, his eyes dark and intense, a predatory, feral glint in them. "Can't hear you."

And it's infuriating and annoying, absolutely maddening. And it's the last straw.

You're not sure if it's the frustration, or the pent up desire, or the heat burning inside you, or the fact that Joel's still hard, and still leaking precum against your hip, as your cunt slides against his thigh, but you break.

You absolutely shatter.

"I want you!" you practically shout, hands balling into fists where they're resting on his shoulders.

"You, okay? You! You and your stupid, fucking, annoying ass, and your dumbass pickup truck, and your stupid, charming grin, and the way you always call me 'baby', and 'honey', and 'sweetheart'. It drives me fucking insane! And the way you're always fixing shit, and being so fucking helpful and sweet and you always, always make me laugh, and smile, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in the past year that I didn’t think about you and I can’t get you out of my fucking head, not even for a single fucking second.”

The words spill from your lips in a breathless tirade, and it feels good, freeing. It's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, like a great burden has been taken off of you.

But the feeling doesn't last long.

Silence stretches between you and it's suffocating, oppressive, and you feel like the walls are closing in on you, panic rising in your chest.

Your cheeks burn, nauseating embarrassment and humiliation coursing through you as you realize the full weight of what you just word-vomited all over him. Your chest heaves, and you hang your head, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

But then, a bright laugh sounds through the otherwise quiet room. And your eyes snap to Joel's face, only to find him smiling.

He's fucking laughing.

"Joel!" you scold, a mixture of mortification and confusion washing over you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he placates, but the laughter in his voice doesn't help to ease your nerves. "I didn't mean to laugh, it's just...I just can't believe how dense you are."

The daggers you shoot at him are truly deadly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you think I just go around callin' everyone 'baby' and 'sweetheart'?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I..." you stammer, trailing off as his words sink in.

"I mean, my southern charm is one thing,” he says, obnoxiously wiggling his eyebrows. “But you’re seriously thick if you think I'm like this with anyone else.”

You stare blankly at him, trying to process what he’s saying.

“Do you think I let all the neighbors just use me for free handy work, think I cook dinner with all of them, think I keep a stash of everyone’s favorite snacks in my pantry, give everyone a fuckin’ key to my front door? And you think I just go around agreeing to sex lessons to anyone who asks?” He rambles, squeezing your hip.

Your brain is reeling as you try to wrap your head around everything.

"Well...no” you stammer, your brows pinching together. “But…"

"How many other girls you seen me bringin' home? Huh? How many other girls you see me with?"

"None" you admit sheepishly.

"Mhm. Because I don't. Not since you moved in next door."

You frown, confusion clouding your features. You open your mouth to speak but Joel cuts you off.

"I like you, baby," he admits with a sigh. "A lot. Maybe too much. But I wasn't about to lose you as a friend just because I'm crazy about you. And if being your friend is the only way I can be close to you, then I'd take it and die a happy man."

You can only stare at him, the words he just spoke bouncing around in your brain, and a warmth blooms in your chest, your heart fluttering wildly in your ribcage.

"Are you kidding me?!" You exclaim suddenly, hitting his shoulder.

"Hey! Ow!" he barks, his eyes widening as he grabs his shoulder. "The fuck was that for?!"

"You've been trying to sleep with me for a whole year?!"

"I wouldn’t say trying," he says with a casual shrug. "Just waiting. Wanted you to take the lead but you’re a little stubborn, baby."

You scoff, glaring at him, not missing the way his lips twitch at the corners, the way his eyes sparkle with amusement.

"So, the reason why I haven't been able to catch a break the entire time we've known each other, has been because you've been trying to get in my pants? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Well, that part is just natural. You're just too easy to get riled up. And that’s not my fault."

You open your mouth to argue with him but his sliding over your hips to palm at your ass and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin.

"But no, I can't deny that I like it," he rasps, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "The way you get all fired up and angry, your face all flushed, your chest heaving. Mmm, it's nice. You look real pretty when you're all worked up and pissed off," he whispers, his lips curled in a smile when he presses a kiss to the spot below your ear before pulling back to look at you.

"Why didn't you tell me,” you say, voice softer now, the rough edges of your tone smoothed out by the feeling of his lips on your skin.

"Didn't want to make it weird. Didn't want you to think I was some creepy old man and ruin our friendship" he explains with a small shrug. "But then you came over here tonight askin’ for a sex lesson, which was not easy by the way, acting like I wasn't already about to burst outta my pants as soon as you asked. Thought for sure you were onto me. But then you started going on about that douche canoe Michael-"

"Joel."

"And then I got jealous and pissed, and figured it was time to cut my losses and just enjoy it while I can, but-"

"Joel."

"Then we were kissing and you were touchin’ me and you're so fucking sexy and-"

"Joel!"

"What?"

"Just kiss me, you idiot" you breathe, and before the words are even fully out of your mouth, his lips are on yours, crashing into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

It’s bruising, searing, all consuming.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass as he pulls you forward, the seam of your pussy dragging deliciously against the strong muscles under warm skin.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and tug, the base of your spine tingling when he groans softly into your mouth, and you grind your hips against his, the wet heat of your cunt grinding into his thigh, pulling another soft, low sound from his throat.

"Fuck" he groans, pulling away just far enough to press his forehead to yours, his breath coming in quick, sharp pants, his chest heaving. "Baby, are you still okay with this?" he breathes, voice ragged and gravelly.

You look at him as if he's grown a second head.

"Are you serious?"

""I...well, I was serious when I said I'd be fine with being your friend, and I don't want you to think I'm tryna pressure you into anything."

You can't help but roll your eyes, the soft, endearing side of Joel coming out at the worst possible time.

"I literally just admitted that I've had a crush on you for months, and now I'm sitting on your lap, soaked, and grinding on your thigh and you're worried I don't want this? I think you might be the dense one here."

He grins, wicked and wide, a flash of sharp teeth, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

"Guess so," he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You don't respond, and instead choose to silence him by pulling him into a kiss, licking at the seam of his lips and sucking his tongue into your mouth. He groans softly into your mouth, and you swallow the noise, rolling your hips again, chasing the sweet friction that's sending a delicious heat through your veins.

"God, baby," he breathes when he pulls back for air, hands on your ass gripping and guiding you against his leg, encouraging your movements. "Makin' such a mess, ain't ya?"

You bite your lip, nodding as a wave of arousal surges through you.

"Yeah, you are. Soakin' my leg, sweet girl," he says, his eyes flicking down between you, watching as your pussy drags along his thigh, coating him in a shiny, slippery sheen.

"Fuck, Joel, please" you whine, your hips jerking and rolling against him.

And that's all the encouragement he needs.

In the blink of an eye, you're on your back, Joel hovering above you, a wild look in his eyes.

"Don't worry, baby," he says, his voice low and husky, and he trails his fingers over your hip and up your ribs, his touch light, teasing, barely ghosting across your skin and it's almost ticklish, making you shiver. "M'gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good."

Your heart thunders in your chest, and your cunt throbs, your arousal leaking out of you. It feels like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin, the desperation growing with every passing second.

He trails his fingers down your sternum, and over the flat expanse of your stomach, goosebumps breaking out across your skin in his wake, the muscles under your skin rippling and twitching at the soft, fleeting touches.

And when he reaches the crease of your thigh, you let out a shaky, trembling breath, and he chuckles softly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

"Eager, are we?" he teases, dragging his fingers over the slick flesh between your legs, gathering the wetness pooled there before slowly sliding a single thick digit inside you. "We're gonna get there, baby. But gotta make sure you're ready first. Don't wanna hurt you.”

You whimper, your walls fluttering and clenching around his finger, and your hips roll forward, seeking friction, wanting, needing more.

Joel curses under his breath and groans softly when your wet, warm walls constrict around his finger. His cock leaks and twitches where it’s pressed against your thigh, and you whimper, both of you caught up in an endless cycle of keying each other up.

"Please, Joel" you beg, and the words come out soft, pleading, and desperate. You should probably be embarrassed at how quickly he's reduced you to a begging, quivering mess, but the way his eyes go dark, and his pupils blow wide, makes the embarrassment worth it.

"Please, what, baby?” He prods with a devilish smirk. “Use your words"

"You're such an asshole" you snap, but the venom in your voice is diluted with pleasure as he slips another finger inside you.

"You keep saying that. What d’ya want me to do about it, sweetheart? You want me to stop?" he taunts.

"No!" you cry out, reaching down and grabbing his wrist with an iron grip when he starts to pull out.

"Then tell me what you want, honey."

"Fuck you,” you mumble weakly.

"Mhm. Okay, honey" he drawls, his thumb moving to circle around your clit as his fingers curl inside you, still pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. . "I'll just wait then. Take my time. Tease your pretty little pussy until you can't stand it. I'm in no hurry, baby. Gonna take all night, if that's what it takes. I've waited this long."

"Joel, please" you whine again, the ache between your thighs turning to an unbearable burn.

"Tell me what you want,” he repeats casually.

"You," you try with a needy whimper.

"Me? You got me, sweetheart. What else?"

“Oh my fucking god can you please just fuck me? Or do I have to spell it out for you, old man?"

"There she is," Joel says with a laugh, his grin splitting his face "There's my girl"

And then his fingers are gone and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But before you can protest much more,, they're sliding back in, this time joined by a third.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him, nails digging into the soft flesh of his muscles.

"Oh fuck" you pant, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he starts pumping his fingers again.

"Gotta get ya ready, baby" he breathes, and his lips are ghosting along your jawline and up the shell of your ear, his breath warm. "Such a tight little pussy, but we'll get you nice and open, don’t worry. Then I'm gonna sink in ya, fill you up real nice. Take real good care of you, baby. Fuck you nice and deep, make you forget your name. Would you like that? Hmm?"

A strangled moan is all you can manage in response. His words, filthier and more deranged than any you've ever heard him speak before, sending your brain into overdrive.

You can’t help but roll your hips, and bucking, and gyrating, meeting his thrusts as his fingers pump in and out of you, the lewd, wet, sloppy sounds filling the otherwise quiet room, and the coil in your gut is threatening to snap.

"Joel, Joel, fuck, oh fuck" you chant, your hazy and thick with pure arousal. It drips down your spine and flows through your veins, liquid heat burning, searing, and scorching you from the inside out.

You manage to open your eyes long enough to look down and see the tendons flexing in his wrist, the muscles and veins in his forearm bulging as he works you, his face brows pinched in concentration as he focuses on your reactions.

"Oh shit, honey," Joel curses breathlessly, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he feels your slick pooling in his palm. “So messy, baby. You gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna be a good girl and lemme feel your sweet little cunt clench and drip even more around my fingers?"

You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he thrusts his fingers into you, the heel of his palm rubbing deliciously against your clit. Your fingers scrabble for purchase, desperately seeking something, anything, to ground yourself. You settle for the firm muscle of his arms, your nails biting into his skin and leaving bright red marks that'll undoubtedly leave little half-moon bruises later

"Fuck, yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel. Give it to me."

You come with a cry, the dam breaking, the tension in your gut exploding outward, a wave of euphoria crashing over you, washing through every inch of your body. Your legs tremble and shake, and Joel works you through it, his fingertips nudging that spongy spot inside you, dragging his thumb across your throbbing clit, milking you through the aftershocks, and when you start to come down, you're panting and breathless, your chest heaving.

You look up at Joel, and his eyes are blown wide, the deep, rich brown of his irises nothing more than a thin, dark ring around his dilated pupils. There are no words, at least none that you can manage to articulate at the moment, so instead you let out a breathless laugh, and a contented hum, a smile spreading across your lips.

Joel grins, laughing, and he leans down to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.

"Good girl" he breathes against your mouth, his words a low, rough rumble that has you keening. "That feel good, baby?"

"Fuck, yeah" you sigh, melting into the matress.

"Good,” he says before pressing a kiss to your forehead then pulling back to look you in the eyes again. “ Think you're ready for me now?"

“Mhm,” you murmur with a lazy nod. “Want you, Joel.”

Joel laughs, the sound sweeter than it’s ever sounded before.. "You've got me, sweetheart. You've had me. Always will."

"That's awfully fucking sappy," you tease breathlessly, threading your fingers into his soft dark hair.

"The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to."

"Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, raising a brow at him.

"That’s some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Joel barks out a laugh, the sound coming out more like a snarl, his eyes flashing with something feral, predatory, and dangerous at your challenge.

And then he’s abruptly pulling his fingers from you then bringing them up to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the slick coating his fingers. The sight nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.

"So fuckin' sweet" he murmurs, his eyes slipping closed momentarily, and a low, satisfied hum rumbles in his chest. It's downright obscene, the way his lips wrap around his fingers, how he licks and sucks, cleaning your arousal off of them.

"Joel," you breathe, your voice nothing more than a shaky exhale.

His eyes snap open, and he gives you a lopsided smirk.

"Sorry, baby,” he starts, pulling his fingers from his mouth and wiping them on the blanket underneath you. “Can’t help myself. Just had to taste ya again. Gonna have a hard time not doing that every time,” he finishes with a sly smile.

Every time.

The words are like a shock of electricity shooting through your veins, setting your blood ablaze. Every time. As in multiple times.

How the fuck is this real?

He stupid smirk is still glued to his face as he leans over to rummage around in the drawer of his nightstand. Your brows furrow when he pulls out a condom and goes to open it.

"I...uh..." you start, but the words die in your throat.

"What's wrong?" Joel asks, his smug expression immediately morphing into one of concern.

"I...well...it's just, I'm- I'm on the pill… We can use a condom, but...it's not necessary…just wanted to put that out there. In case, you know…you didn't wanna use one. Since it's not...like, not entirely necessary,” you say quietly, casting your eyes down to where your fingers fiddle with the edge of the blanket.

"Ahh, I see,” Joel responds, all too pleased. “You just want me to raw dog it, huh?”

"Wha-no! Oh my god, Joel, you are so fucking embarrassing," you groan, covering your face with your hands.

"S'okay, honey, don’t be embarrassed. It is all part of the full Joel Miller Experience anyway,” he reassures you with a sickeningly sweet tone..

"Oh my fucking god, I told you not to say that ever again,” you groan, shoving at his shoulder, which only makes him laugh. And you can feel yourself smiling too, despite how irked you are.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," he relents, still laughing a little. "If you really don't want me to use one, I guess I can make an exception, just for you"

And it's as if he knows that you're about to lash out at him again, because he leans down and presses his lips to yours before you have a chance to say anything, all the fight in you draining away as soon as his mouth is on yours.

"You tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers when he pulls back. “Or if I do anything you're uncomfortable with, or if you just need a break. You let me know, okay?"

You nod.

"Promise?"

"I promise, Joel. Please just get on with it."

"Impatient" he breathes, but kisses you again nonetheless, soft, slow, and tender. And when he pulls away, his eyes are searching yours like he's looking for any signs of hesitancy. But all he sees is the same raw desire reflected back in your wide, eager eyes.

You see the exact moment that the last vestiges of his self-restraint disappear, his gaze growing darker and hungrier as he pushes himself up to sit back on his knees, one hand around the base of his cock, the other on the inside of your thigh as he tenderly spreads you open and settles himself between your legs.

He teases you of course, dragging his length through your folds, letting the swollen, leaking tip catch on your clit before sliding back down to nudge at your entrance. You whimper, and try to grind against him, but his hand is firm, holding your hip still, not allowing you any friction.

He hushes you softly, his thumb gently stroking the soft, delicate skin where your hip meets your thigh. "Just let me do what I need to do, baby. Let me take care of you.”

"You're evil," you whine, squirming underneath him.

"Yeah, well, that's a matter of opinion" he grunts, your breath hitching when he lines himself up and finally, finally pushes the blunt tip of his cock inside you.

Your lips part on a gasp, the feeling of his thick head stretching you open, the slight burn of the intrusion, a mixture of aching and pure pleasure. And you can feel his eyes practically burning holes in your skin, drinking in every little reaction, every flutter of your lashes, every twitch of your brow.

"How's that?" he asks, his voice tight and strained. He looks just as wrecked as you feel, his jaw tight, a sheen of sweat already on his brow, the muscles in his forearms bulging with the effort of restraining himself.

"More," is all you manage to rasp out, pushing your hips up, trying to get him to sink deeper.

Joel grunts, and then obliges, his eyes screwed shut in concentration as he tries to feed you only a little more of his considerable length. You can see him chewing on his lip, his nostrils flaring, a slight tremble in his thighs, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Jesus fuck, you're tight" he grits out, his chest heaving as he tries to regain some of his composure. "I-I didn't…fuck, I didn't think- shit. God fuckin' damn, baby"

You smile a little, the corners of your lips curling upwards. It's the first time you've ever seen him truly at a loss for words, and it's a very welcome change.

You reach up and card your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed, a sweet sigh escaping his lips at the feeling.

"I can take more," you say softly.

Joel shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "Not yet."

But you don't listen. Not that you ever really listen to him.

Your impatience gets the best of you and you push yourself further down the bed, forcing another inch of his cock inside you, your walls fluttering wildly around him as you let out a low moan.

"Ah fuck, honey," he groans, his eyes flying open.

"C'mon, Joel. More. Please," you beg, grinding down on his cock, taking just a little bit more with each roll of your hips until his fingers dig into your hips so hard, you're sure they'll leave bruises.

"Baby stop fuckin' movin'" he hisses, his grip tightening even further. "Please."

You can hear the strain in his voice, and you can feel him trembling above you, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing and tensing.

"Why not?" you pout.

"Cause m'tryin' not to fuckin' come right now, alright?" he grunts, his teeth gritted. "So please, just stop. For a minute."

"You can't possibly be serious," you breathe, a smile creeping on your face again. "You're not even all the way in yet."

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing. "Not my fault you're fuckin' tight as shit. It's like your cunt is tryin' to strangle me."

You giggle a little, the sound coming out breathy and light. You don't miss the way Joel's cock twitches at the sound.

"You're being so dramatic," you sigh, rolling your hips again.

"Fuck, honey, please," he begs, his eyes pleading, and the sight is almost enough to make you stop teasing him.

Almost.

You can't help the devilish smirk that crosses your face as you bring your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb across the stubble on his chin. He lets his eyes fall closed again, leaning into your touch.

"This isn't very 'best lay your life' behavior."

"I will fuckin' strangle you," he mutters, his eyes still closed, a smile playing on his lips.

"Is that part of the Joel Miller Experience too? Because I don't remember seeing it in the brochure. Was it next to the premature ejaculation section? Or maybe the-"

The air is knocked right out of your lungs, cut off mid-sentence when Joel pushes forward. He keeps it slow but unrelenting, sinking into you in one smooth, fluid motion. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, eyes screwing shut as your fists twist in the blanket underneath you.

It's more than overwhelming, it's absolutely mind melting the way he buries himself completely, stretching your walls, forcing them to make room for him, to mold perfectly around his length. You gasp for air between harsh pants and weak cries, the sensation of him filling you up, so much bigger than you expected, so much thicker than his fingers. You squirm underneath him, trying to get used to the feeling of his tip pressed against your cervix, the pressure building deliciously as the ache radiates from your core through your belly, to the tips of your toes.

"That what you wanted, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained and gruff, one hand still gripping your hip as he presses the other into the mattress by your head, holding himself up. "Is that enough for you?"

You struggle to find words, but you're not even sure if there are any in the English language that can convey just how good it feels.

"Uh-huh," you nod, blinking rapidly as the edges of your vision start to blur. "Fuck, Joel. You're so fucking big, oh my god."

You hear him chuckle, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple.

"Not too much though, is it? Cause you were begging for more just a second ago. Thought you could take it, sweetheart," he croons, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

"No, no, 'sgood, " you whimper, the words slurring together as he starts to grind into you. "F-fuck. Joel. Shit, that feels so good. Holy fuck.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your cheek and your jaw, trailing down the column of your neck. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, his breath hot against you. He lets you get used to the feeling, cursing under his breath and trying to think of anything else but the tight, wet heat convulsing around his cock.

"Doesn't hurt?" he asks with a sudden tenderness, his voice vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"No," you sigh, finally starting to relax around him.

"Good. You gonna let me know if it does, right baby? Or if you need me to stop?"

You nod weakly. "Mhm."

He kisses you then, a soft, languid, and lazy drag of his lips against yours. He slides his tongue along your lower lip, and you let him in without any hesitation, parting your lips with a breathy sigh. He takes the opportunity to swallow down every little sound that spills from your mouth, kissing you with a kind of reverence, a kind of tenderness, a kind of patience and passion that makes your heart feel like it might beat right out of your chest.

He pulls away leaving you even more breathless and dizzy, your lips tingling and swollen. And you're not sure if it's because of the kiss or the way he's stretching you so fucking wide, but your fucking drunk on it.

He kisses you once more, on the corner of your mouth, his lips curling up into a smile when you nuzzle against his cheek, seeking out more.

"You still with me, honey?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here," you answer, your voice sounding far away, distant and dreamy. Joel chuckles, the sound making you smile.

"You wanna keep going, sweetheart? Or d'ya need a minute?"

"I'm good, I'm good," you assure him, trying to lift your hips a little. "You can...keep going."

"Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?"

You nod and then close your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as Joel pulls out, just a little, his cock dragging along your walls. It's another wave of overwhelming sensation, your entire body shaking. But it's nothing compared to the feeling when he pushes back in. The same full, aching, almost painful stretch, except it's somehow even better this time, your walls gripping him tighter, pulling him in, trying to keep him there.

"Fuck, oh my god, oh my god," you cry, your breath catching in your throat, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him. "Oh, Joel, fuck."

He's hovering over you, his brows furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his arms, chest and stomach flexing and contracting as he moves above you.

"Good?" he asks, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, his eyes hooded.

You answer with a nod, followed by a long, low moan when he starts to slowly pull out again, pushing back in a bit faster this time. He builds a rhythm, the slick drag of his cock filling you up again and again, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster.

"You're taking it so good," he pants, his hips snapping against yours with a particularly hard thrust, the force of which has you keening and crying out his name. Your walls clench around him, a gush of slick pouring out around his cock as you subconsciously try to pull him in even further.

"God you're so fucking tight, baby. Fuckin' soaked too, dripping all over me. Fuck. So fucking wet and perfect," he groans, his voice sounding strained, almost like he's in pain. "Such a good fucking girl."

You can't do anything more than just lay there and let him fuck into you, the sounds that spill from your lips a mix of moans, whimpers and desperate little cries. Your brain feels like mush, all thought processes reduced to a single loop of his name, your lips chanting it over and over.

And Joel's not much better, the only coherent words out of his mouth a string of praises, calling you his good girl, telling you how well you're taking him, how fucking tight you are, how heavenly you feel. His hands are everywhere too, caressing, stroking, kneading, squeezing, leaving no inch of your skin untouched.

He finds a steady rhythm and you know it's not nearly as hard as he could go, not by a long shot, but every thrust and drag of his cock hits you so deep and so hard, it's a miracle that you don't shatter beneath him. And the sounds, god the sounds are so obscene, the slapping of skin against skin, the wet, squelching noises of him pounding into your dripping cunt. It's a chorus of pure debauchery, music to both of your ears, only adding to the building pleasure.

And just when you start to think that it can't possibly get any better, he hits a spot deep inside you that has your body bowing, a strangled cry tearing from your throat. You clamp down around him and he curses, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering for just a moment.

"There it is," he grunts, and you can hear the smug smirk in his voice, the absolute bastard. "Right there, huh? That the spot?"

He doesn't wait for you to answer, pulling almost all the way out, and then driving back into you, hitting the same spot dead-on. And you keen and wail, your body thrashing wildly as a new wave of ecstasy washes over you.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, clawing at his back, digging your fingers into his shoulders.

"Yeah, I got ya," he husks, leaning down to suck and bite at the skin just below your jaw. He keeps pounding into that spot, making sure to hit it every damn time, and your vision starts to blur again, black dots dancing at the edge of your eyes.

You don't even realize you're about to come until it's crashing into you, a sudden and violent wave that threatens to tear you apart. And Joel can tell, from the way you start to shake, the way your walls are clamping down around him, the way your legs lock around his waist, and the way you're desperately gasping for air, that you're right there.

"There you go, sweetheart," he coos. "You're so fucking close aren't ya? I can feel it. You gonna come on my cock? Huh?Gonna let me feel that tight little pussy coming all over me?"

"Oh god, Joel," you sob, tears welling in your eyes, his words alone pushing you even closer.

"I know, honey. I know. Just let go, baby. C'mon, that's it. You can do it."

And then he's snaking a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, tight circles against the swollen bud, and the pleasure reaches its peak, the coil in your belly snapping, sending you careening off the edge. Stars burst behind your eyelids as the most intense, powerful orgasm of your life tears right through you. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts, the rush of blood roaring in your ears as white-hot bliss erupts throughout every fiber of your being, your walls pulsing wildly, gushing slick around his cock.

He's there with you every step of the way, murmuring praise in your ear, fucking into you and grinding his cock against your cervix, prolonging your orgasm, extending it for what feels like an eternity. And then you're boneless, spent, and helplessly limp, barely aware of the way he's still rutting against you.

"So good, baby," he rasps, his voice sounding wrecked and broken. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

And then you feel him start to swell and his thrusts become erratic and you know he's right there with you, teetering on the edge, ready to fall. A few more pumps of his hips, his pace frantic and uncoordinated before he pushes himself back up on his knees and pulls out of you with a hiss. He jerks himself for half a second before spilling all over your belly and your cunt, hot, thick ropes of cum splashing against your skin. He grunts and hisses through clenched teeth, a few last drops spilling out onto your pussy, his cock throbbing against you.

You feel completely and utterly destroyed, every part of your body buzzing and tingling, still trembling. And your head feels stuffy and foggy, a hazy, peaceful kind of bliss settling deep in your bones.

Joel slumps down next to you, breathing heavy, a low, rumbling groan escaping his lips. You glance over at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He's a sweaty, disheveled mess, and the sight makes your heart ache and swell, a rush of warmth flooding through your body.

He notices you looking at him and turns his head to meet your gaze, his own satisfied smile matching yours. You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of your throat and spilling past your lips in a breathy giggle. Joel's smile spreads even wider, his eyes sparkling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, propping himself up on his elbow and rolling onto his side.

"Nothing, I just," you giggle again, and it's almost a hysterical kind of laugh, a nervous kind of relief flooding through your body. "That was…"

Joel chuckles, brushing a lock of hair out of your face, his fingers trailing across your forehead.

"Yeah, it was," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"And I…I just really like you, Joel. A lot. I don't know. I guess I'm just happy."

His face softens and he stares at you for a moment, his expression so fond and tender that you forget how to breathe for a moment. He leans down and kisses you, his lips gentle and warm before he pulls away.

"I guess I like you too," he murmurs, his signature smirk playing on his lips. "I dunno about a lot, but-"

"Shut up, you ass" you giggle, slapping his shoulder. "I'm trying to have a moment."

He hums delightedly and presses another kiss to your forehead."M'kay, you have your moment. I'm gonna clean you up, alright?"

You pout but let him go, letting the afterglow of your climax envelop you until he returns a moment later with a warm wet cloth. His touch is tender, gently cleaning between your legs and then wiping the cum from your belly. You're still shaking, every touch sending little aftershocks through your body.

"So," he starts, tossing the cloth into the corner of the room before looking at you expectantly. "Best lay of your life?"

You laugh, your heart bursting at the seams, your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard.

"Not even close."

Thank you for reading!! I apologize in advance for any errors I do not enjoy editing!!

tagging those who asked and who might be interested:

@shewantstoknow @pedritoferg @khindahra @wand-erer5 @akah565 @thereaperisabitch @first-edition @lilyevanstan1325 @lovelyjess69 @elliesswearjar @iloveenya @harriedandharassed @c2ss1e @paleidiot @starry-eyes-love @lola8888673 @saguchiya @milla-frenchy @cayleejz @missyorkswhore @farrowroyale @abbyandersonsragdoll @glimmering-darling-dolly @katiexpunk @worhols @thecasualnope @ahintofkiwistrawberry @lulawantmula @sawymredfox @prismaticpizza @serenadingtigers @venturawriter @kyloispunk @millercontracting @jjhayhay20 @bitchesuntitled @bean-is-reading @lvl-2005 @kamcrazy123 @covetyou @survivingandenduring @pinkiec6-rubi @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @pedroshotwifey @perfectlyfreeanalyst @plsdontmisfire @lokigonnakmsforbucky @kr-ickl3

I will not tag ageless/faceless (no pfp) blogs. If you asked to be tagged and weren't you either did not have an age/pfp or Tumblr wouldn't let me :(

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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scremogirl · 8 months

Text

✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Yandere! Nerd x Academic Rival! Reader

Mentions of depressive behavior/thoughts of suicide. AFAB! Reader: is called “Ms”.

Annoying.

A know-it-all smarty pants that was simultaneously the worst pain in your ass. Not that he meant to be of course; you couldn’t really blame him. Sure, some people are just naturally smart; but not him. Following you around like a lost puppy no matter where you went. He was toying with you on purpose and you knew it! You just couldn’t understand why he decided to make your life worse.

Now, the relationship you have is more one sided. You’d make subtle jabs and throw cheap shots his way but all he ever did was laugh it off. He never fought back. From what you’ve gathered, he just prefers to stare. And when I say stare I mean straight into your soul type stare. Every time he gets annoyed or is thinking really hard about something that’s what he does. Stares. It’s really creepy and unsettling, all the times you caught him or tried to, he would just look away blushing, trying his best to hide behind his shaggy hair. Eyes burn holes through the back of your head five out of the seven days of the week. However, even the two days you aren’t in school, the feeling of eyes on you never seems cease. You feel chills crawl up your spine and always look over your shoulder wherever you go only to find nobody there.

You’ve always strived to be the best. Your home life was like the equivalent of being tossed in solitary co finemente and being left to rot. It seemed as if your parents only cared about your academic life. Therefore, they were always super strict about your grades. You knew it came from a place deep within their hearts, they just wanted you to do good in life; but it still hurt. You wanted to make them proud. Wanted to feel loved by the people who were supposed to be closest to you. So you pushed yourself to limits nobody could ever reach. From winning spelling bees to holding the spot of Vice President on your school's student council team. Schools were already offering you all expense scholarships in freshman year!

You were an all rounder. One of the most involved students in your grade. You were in various sports and academic clubs, always helped in school fundraisers, and even have 500(+) SS hrs.

“ Apologies, Ms. (L/N), but there’s nothing we can do about this. You’ll have to get a tutor in order to pass,”

Technical engineering.

Your worst subject. You excelled in physics and math; some would say the best. You got the formulas down to a T and knew everything there was to know. It was more so the building aspect of things. There were just so many damn parts! Who even needs an electriconic digital caliper anyways?!

“I’m sorry, (Y/n), but that’s just the way things turned out. You need this credit to graduate, but you needn’t worry. Miylo is the best at this. He’s perfect for the job,”

Miylo Reneritzer. A 6 foot, dead eyed, pale skinned dork. He’s never stood out to you. He wasn’t popular or a scholar. He didn’t play sports and wasn’t in any clubs. He didn’t participate in the annual dances and didn’t attended school games. He was just there. A regular student with a knack for technicalogical architecture. You were in 11th grade at the time. You needed to get all your credits out the way so you didn’t have to worry about them senior year. Not that it was a problem for you seeing as all of them were already completed. Well… except this one. You’ve been putting off for so long. You had to face it sooner or later. Too soon for your liking.

You would meet with Miylo twice a week; you were place in the same tech class so the first meeting didn’t really count. He was a great teacher! A little quiet and very monotone, but very thourough none the less. By the end of junior year you ended up with a A-. You parents hammered you for not making it a plus but you’ve come to terms with it. He saved you. And you were grateful. You ended up losing contact the transitioning year and just never interacted again; almost completely forgetting about him.

He didn’t forget about you though. How could he?! You were the most beautiful girl in the entire school! Nobody could compare to you. What you didn’t know about him was he was s everely bullied and even contiplated ending everything. That was until you came along. Someone finally wanted to talk to him. Even if it was just for help getting a good grade. Taking to a pretty popular girl and getting money and an increases on his report card? Sign him up. That one day changed the entirety of his life, he owes his life to you.

All he remembers is being called down to the counselors office; parents ready waiting and giving him the most bone crushing hug. Everything seemed like a blur from then on. But what he can remember is how he got there in the first place.

“A friend of yours, (Y/n) (L/n) had some concerns about your health. She said she’s been paying attention to you for awhile and noticed your self destructive behaviors,” says the counselor.

What? Before he started tutoring you he thought you were a teachers pet and hog all the chances for others to answer questions but if saves him the embarrassment of public speaking he doesn’t mind. You’ve noticed him? In more than just at tutor-tutee way? Nobody ever notices him. Not even his own parents. It’s evident with the amount of shock on their faces and all their “why didn’t you tell me’s” and confessions of love. He’s mad at you at first. He spends at least 3mths in that looney bin because of you. He hated it at first. All the questions and discard for privacy. But… slowly he changes. He becomes healthy and happy again. His mind drifts back to you. The way you would answer questions when you noticed the teachers eyes land on him, the way you would always do the presenting part in group presentations, the way gum and smiley faced erasers would apprear on his desk on a particularly hard day. You cared. You did this for everyone you saw struggling. Not that he took that into account, in his mind, he was the only one. You thought he was special. And he wouldn’t let anyone take his spot in your heart.

When he got out, he decided he was a changed person. Senior year would be his redemption arc and you would finally be together. You already were in his mind; you were just to scared. He saw straight through your act. That’s why you would do all that stuff for him instead of just coming out and saying it. He needed to pull himself together and become a better person first. He wanted you to be proud of him. He wanted you to see him for all he’s worth. He joined all the clubs you were in and surpassed all expectations. He became popular, inserting himself into all your social circles and even became a student council member beside you. Or should I say infront of you? The President. And the validictorinan.

Ugh! Since when did he become so…so great!? You don’t have any clue where this change in him came from and you want him to go back to the way he was. You were the best! You didn’t work this hard for your parents approval for nothing. They would always compare you time him. Miylos the student council president they’d say. He would never get an A-, he would never miss a volleyball game because he was overwhelmed with school work, he would never feel how school was the only true escape from an emotionally disabled household. He would never understand. Oh, but he did.

He’s been in your house plenty of times to know what’s going on. Not that you’ve know of course. That explains all the missing panties. Hmm, maybe that explains where all of your pens have gone too. And your half eaten food, and the Polaroids you’ve take of yourself, and your rose to-… Regardless! You’ve had enough of this! You needed him to know just exactly how you felt. What other way than asking him to meet you under the tree on Fri before school ends?

“I already know,” Hm?

“Good. I couldn’t hold this in any longer. You do know just exactly what I feel,”

“Oh my love but I do,” ….my love? What is he taking about.

“What am I talking about? Oh sweetheart, don’t play coy with me. It’s okay; I’ve always know the real reason behind your aggression towards me. Your just shy is all. I just want to let you know that I love you too. More than you could ever know,” he steps forward and arms outstretched and expecting a hug. He push on his chest and stare up at him in confusion. Love him? You don’t love him, you despise him! He chuckles.

“Like I said, it’s okay to be open about how you feel. That’s why you brought me here isn’t it?” What! This wasn’t some sort of confession. Well…technically… but not one of love! He was here to understand how much you loathed him. He had to not like you either, that’s why he did everything you did right…Right!? He hated you. He had to!

“Hate you? (Y/n), I could never hate you. After all you saved me,” at this point you thiught he was joking with you. Furthering your suspicions of his true feelings. You tried marching pasted him only for him to grab you arm. You tried to shuck him off but his grip was strong. All those clubs really built up his physice. He wasn’t the same scrawny little geek you remembered. He was larger, seeming as if he grew a few more inches. He filled out his uniform more, and his eyes became brighter and more emotional. If your affliction for him didn’t exist you’d think he was cute. The only thing that seemed hadn’t changed about him was his unwavering love and loyalty to you. He huffs out an exasperated sign, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I get that your shy my love, but that’s there’s no need to be so rude. We’ll work on a more conventional way to express your emotions,”

“Do I have to spell it out for you! I don’t like you, you creep! You’ve been following me around every since the beginning of this year. You’ve taken everything from me. Clubs, student records, student president! Do you know how hard I’ve worked to get here! You act so laid back and relaxed about everything and it drives me nuts! I hate you!” You push past him again, angry tears forming from all the supressed emotional turmoil. He doesn’t grab you right away which makes you think he’s finally got the picture. Didn’t anyone ever tell you no to turn your back on the enemy? You’re suddenly grabbed and thrusted into the base of the tree. He tsks at your behavior before sighing again. Hands have now moved to your shoulders and apply slight pressure keeping you in place. If that didn’t do it, the way he's looking at you would’ve have; fierce and warning, and yet, filled with so much adoration.

“We need to fix this little attitude of yours, don’t we?” It’s rhetorical. You know that but you feel the urge to snap back at him. Before you could get a word out, you can her the distance ringing of the school bell signaling the end of the day. His phone rings on the last ring. He gives you a hard glare telepathically telling you not to move. He stands straighter and picks it up. With what you heard, the student council meeting is starting soon and the others are wondering where you two are. Saved by the bell. He sighs before grabbing his bag that he placed down as long as your hand before sighing.

“Unfortunately, we can’t continue this conversation my love. Lucky for us, it’s Friday. We’ll have the rest of the weekend to work it out of you,” he throws a coy smirk your way and grabs at his belt, readjusting it a bit. God, what will you do?

Hey loves! Hope you enjoyed. I’m thinking about making apart to of this. I wasn’t really confident in it and decided that I should give more explanation to Miylos behavior. This could just be his introduction and I’ll expand on it. Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!

-Love, Sos❤️

#yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere! nerd x reader #✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

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ellemj · 6 months

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Time & Temptation - Roommates w/ Benefits Pt. 2

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Please read part 1 first if you haven't!

Summary: Living with Bucky Barnes just keeps getting more difficult, and it's been less than 24 hours. Now, he's unexpectedly sent out as backup on what was supposed to be your solo mission. What happens when you insist on putting yourself in danger, as you always do?

Warnings: profanity, mention of wet dream from part 1, teasing, strip club, mention of weapons (firearms), use of firearms, drive-by shooting, gunshot wound, jealous!Bucky, protective!Bucky, some use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: I'm sorry for the long pause since posting part 1 of this series! I got caught up with life and had a lack of inspiration for writing this, but I found some motivation/inspiration the last two days so here it is, finally. I'll be better about pushing out the next few parts of this in a more timely manner. If you'd like to be added to the taglist you can add yourself using this Google doc. Please use it responsibly.

You really thought an early morning run was going to clear your mind. You thought you could drown the details of the wet dream in sweat and pain and never think about it again. So, you were especially pissed off when the make-believe sound of Bucky making you ask for what you want began replaying in your mind with every step that you took down the chilly trails. Tell me what you need. As you continue along the dirt path, you can almost feel his hands on your thighs. Fuck. You know it means nothing. It was just a stupid dream. It probably only came about because you ran into him in the kitchen last night. If you’d run into a big, purple, infinity stone-wielding cretin in the kitchen you would’ve been just as likely to have a wet dream about that, right? Well, maybe not. But you can tell yourself that in hopes that it’ll ease your internal rage over having a wet dream about your new roommate.

An hour later, you’re catching your breath in the elevator on the way back up to your floor. You tug your hair out of its snug ponytail and run your hands through it, massaging your scalp with your fingertips. You’re planning to take a nice, long shower, lock yourself in your room and do a little prep for the solo mission you have later tonight, and then meet up with Sharon for lunch. You repeat the plan in your head over and over as the elevator slowly carries you upward. It seems like a solid enough plan to help you avoid Bucky for at least half the day. Or so you thought.

You’re as quiet as possible when you unlock the front door, unsure if Bucky may still be asleep or if he’s even home at all. Of course, the first thing you see when you step inside is Bucky, shirtless and in the kitchen yet again. He seems to love that little space beside the kitchen sink. The sigh that leaves your lips is a little more audible than you’d intended it to be, and the way Bucky lifts his gaze to your direction and raises an eyebrow at you lets you know that he not only heard it, but he wants to know what it was about. You didn’t mean to blurt the words out, you really didn’t. But the way he stood there both last night and this morning, looking so fucking hot that it makes your head spin and your cheeks feel warm…you just had to speak up.

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” You ask exasperatedly. You push the door shut behind you and lock the deadbolt with a resounding click. When you look back at Bucky once more, he’s fucking smirking. You’re simultaneously annoyed and turned on, and all you want is a cold shower.

“About as often as you wear pants.” He retorts. You don’t miss the way his eyes roam over your figure, taking in your slightly disheveled post-run look. He takes a sip from the glass of water in his hand as he wonders how the hell you still look so put together after a run. Your hair is down and somehow looks perfectly windswept, your cheeks and nose have the slightest pink tint to them from both the cold weather outside and the heavy exercise, and your leggings are hugging your legs and ass so tightly that you may as well be wearing nothing at all. His gaze makes you feel like your skin is on fire and it sets off alarm bells in your head. You need to get out of here. You make a beeline for the fridge, pulling it open and retrieving a cold bottle of water before quickly exiting the kitchen again, refusing to give Bucky a second look. Once you’re in the bathroom, you waste no time stepping into a cold shower as fast as possible.

Bucky remains in the kitchen for another minute, almost laughing at his current living situation. The man has had only the most minimal associations with women outside of a professional setting for years now, and he sure as hell doesn’t remember any pleasurable interactions with women during his time as the Winter Soldier. Now, he lives with one. And not even just that, but he’s fucking attracted to the one he lives with. He created his own personal hell by suggesting you and Vision switch rooms, and now he has to deal with it. He tries to tell himself that you’re just physically attractive. He’d never like you on all of the levels needed for a relationship. He can’t stand the way you work in the field, you’re too unpredictable and too willing to put yourself at risk. It’s beyond frustrating. He could never like someone who doesn’t seem to give a damn if they live or die. So, he’ll focus on that. He’ll focus on that one thing until he finds enough things to dislike about you to make his cock start listening to his brain again.

You shut off your cold shower and quickly towel yourself dry before wrapping the towel snugly around your body. You didn’t last more than three minutes under the icy stream of water, but it definitely did its job. Your stupidly attractive roommate is the last thing on your mind now. Or at least he was until you realize you were so rushed to get away from him in the kitchen a few minutes ago that you forgot to grab a clean change of clothes to put on after your shower. Shit. You’re freezing your ass off so you sure as hell aren’t going to wait around until you hear his bedroom door shut. Without giving it a second thought, you glance in the mirror to make sure that the towel at least covers your ass before pulling the bathroom door open and stepping out into the hall.

Fucking hell. As Bucky stands in the hallway staring at you, he can’t seem to remember the one thing that he was focusing on to help dissuade his attraction to you. All he can focus on now is the way the skin of your neck looks so smooth and soft, the way your neck transitions seamlessly down to your collarbones, and the way your collarbones draw his eyes further down to your chest. He doesn’t let himself look any further once his eyes land on the cleavage that’s just barely peeking out over the top of the towel. His eyes flit back up to your face and suddenly, you don’t feel like the powerless one here. You’d think you would be feeling like the powerless one, given that you’re standing here in a towel and he’s between you and your bedroom door, but you don’t. You noticed the way he froze when he saw you, the way he couldn’t stop his eyes from tracing the curve of your neck and shoulders, and the way his eyes lingered on your chest a little longer than you would’ve expected. You have the power here. You straighten up a little and take a few slow, small steps closer to Bucky. He’s frozen right in between your two bedroom doors, so he’ll have to move out of your way or you’ll have to squeeze past him to get into your room. You’re sure he’ll move. You can feel your towel riding up your thighs and nearly exposing the curve of your ass with every step you take, but you fight the urge to tug it down, worried that the action would make you look insecure. Bucky stands firm in front of you, the eye contact between you two so intense that you wonder if he can see straight through you. God, you see why Sam calls him the bionic staring machine sometimes.

Just as you expected, Bucky turns and walks up to his own bedroom door once you’re just a foot in front of him. What you didn’t expect was for him to say something to you as you wrapped your hand around your own bedroom door handle.

“That’s twice now that you’ve tried showing me your ass in the past twenty-four hours.” His tone is calm and even but his words are taunting. You turn on your heel to see him standing in his doorway, facing you, and his blue eyes meeting yours instantly. You’re acutely aware of how short your towel is as it barely covers the curve of your ass, leaving little to the imagination. Apparently, Bucky’s well aware of it too.

“If you were nicer to me, you might’ve made it to three times, James.” You tease, pushing your bedroom door open and walking through it, refusing to look over your shoulder at him. It’s safe to assume he stole one last look at your towel-clad form before you shut your bedroom door and left him standing there with his cock as hard as it’s ever been.

---

Ah, fuck. Bucky rests his flesh arm on the inner wall of the shower and his forehead on his forearm, watching the water run into the shower drain at his feet. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you in that damn towel. Every time you took a breath, your chest would pull the towel up your thighs in the slightest bit. It was practically torture standing in front of you when you looked like that. He shakes his head and turns his chin up with closed eyes, letting the warm water splash into his face, trying but failing to wash the image of you away. He clenches his jaw and looks back down at his cock. Fully erect, and from what? Nothing. You barely did a damn thing. You just happened to be walking down the hallway in a towel, surely not even intentionally. You just forgot your clothes. But shit, the view from where Bucky stood is forever ingrained in his memory. The view and the way you said his first name like you liked the sound of it. He’d never heard you say his first name before. Hell, he liked the sound of it. But your fucking teasing? He didn’t like the sound of that. The way you insinuated, jokingly of course, that you would’ve continued finding ways to nearly show him your ass if he was nicer to you? Bullshit. This is all bullshit. Bucky desperately needs either a new place to live or a fan-fucking-tastic new method of letting off steam, before he says or does something stupid.

He wills himself to ignore his cock in the shower, and once he gets out and towels dry, he pulls on a clean pair of boxers and sweats. He utilizes the ages-old trick of tucking his boner beneath the waistband of his boxers so it won’t be as obvious when he inevitably runs into you again in the tiny apartment that you share. This time, he’s also sure to put on a t-shirt. Maybe him being fully clothed will inspire you to start wearing some pants. As he pulls the bathroom door open and heads straight for his bedroom, he thinks that maybe he should head out for the day, get away from here before he runs into you again and you have the chance to call him by his first name or nearly show him your ass for a third time.

You’re sitting on your bed, scanning dutifully over a few electronic files that Fury sent you regarding tonight’s solo op, when you hear Bucky finish up in the shower and quickly shut himself up in his room. Your mind starts to drift away from the task at hand as you replay his words from earlier in your head. That’s twice now that you’ve tried showing me your ass in the past twenty-four hours. Of course the little shit was keeping count. And the best response you could come up with was a tease. You scrunch your eyes shut and shake your head, attempting to clear your mind so you can focus on the mission details before you. This is not the time to be getting distracted. Tonight’s op is serious, and you’re going in with only two backup agents strategically placed in the club’s staff, so you need to be as prepared as possible and as on your game as you’ve ever been.

---

A not-so-innocent little black lingerie set adorns your figure, hugging your body in all of the right ways and accentuating all of your best features. You give yourself one last look in the tall mirror in your bedroom, making sure everything looks perfect, before pulling on a pair of black jeans, a black sweater, and then a black leather jacket over the top. You pull on a pair of sneakers before double-checking that your bag for the night is packed and ready. It holds a pair of black ankle-strap heels, body glitter, your most complimented perfume, your makeup bag, and a couple of choice weapons tucked away from prying eyes. You have everything you need to gain the attention of one particularly nasty underground vibranium dealer, Elias Leveaux.

In less than an hour, you’re downtown at the most high-end strip club in northern New York. It’s known for wealthy clientele, and it’s on SHIELD’s radar specifically because Elias is known to drop in at least once or twice a month. You’ve read enough about the guy to wonder why someone with so much money and such an illegal, secretive day job would choose to go to a strip club that’s more or less open to the public. You’d think he’d hire a few girls privately and enjoy his free time that way, but it’s like he gets off on the experience of being the richest, scariest guy in the place. So he goes, at least once a month, always sometime during the second week of the month, like clockwork.

The last thing you expected to see when you walk in the back staff entrance of the club is a text from Fury, letting you know that the plan for tonight has changed. It’s nonspecific and gives you absolutely no clue as to what might’ve changed, but you don’t have time to text him back and ask for clarification before you’re being directed to the dressing room and told that you’re supposed to be on the floor in less than five minutes. What the hell is Fury thinking?

Bucky initially thought that being called out for a last-minute op was a blessing. He thought it was exactly what he needed to get out of the apartment for a few hours and get his mind off of you. At least until he found out that the entire op centered around you. He breathes a heavy sigh as he stands outside the club, adjusting his black gloves and glancing at his watch impatiently. Sam is never late. Walker, however, doesn’t know how to be anything but late. Of course, Sam wasn’t going to be the one to wait around outside for Walker’s arrival, so he’s already in the club, seated somewhere at a table near the back wall to keep an eye on things. As Bucky continues to wait in the cold, he begins to wonder what kind of role you’re playing here tonight. Are you a cocktail waitress? A bartender? Fury didn’t give him much information when he called earlier, he simply said that the possibility of something going sideways tonight had escalated enough that he wanted extra hands on deck. Specifically, the undercover hands of the new Captain America, a super soldier, and America’s most hated: John Walker.

“I’ve got eyes on Leveaux, he came in through the private entrance on the west side of the building.” Sam’s voice reaches Bucky through his in-ear monitor, right as Walker is approaching.

“Sorry I’m late. Fury really doesn’t like to give us a heads up, does he?” Walker asks, clapping Bucky on the shoulder in greeting. Bucky shoots him a death glare and Walker quickly drops his smile and hand, remembering who he’s talking to. This is going to be a long fucking night.

---

When the lights go off and the crowd in the club gets quieter than it’s been for the last forty-five minutes, Bucky follows the turning of everyone’s heads to the stage. A few dancers have come and gone so far, a couple had the crowd going wild for sure, but whatever it is that’s coming next seems to have sucked the breath out of everyone’s chests as they sit on the edge of their seats with anticipation. Even Elias Leveaux has waved his henchmen away and he sits at his table close to the stage with all of his focus trained on the dark platform. When the lights on the stage turn on, they have a deep red hue to them. The low notes of a sultry song begin rumbling through the speakers in the club and as soon as the first bit of skin is visible on stage, Bucky’s mouth goes dry and his heart begins slamming against his ribcage.

Holy fucking shit. It’s you. You’re the girl that has the attention of every single man and woman in the club right now. You’re the girl dressed in the skimpiest little outfit that Bucky has ever seen. Even the bartenders across the room have their eyes on you. Bucky can’t breathe, he can’t move, he can’t think. You make it to centerstage and begin your routine seamlessly, transitioning from a suggestive dance in your heels to an all-out Magic Mike-level move that involves you crawling across the stage, perfectly in time with the music. When your eyes land on Elias, you maintain eye contact with him as you crawl forward, arching your back and flipping your hair over one shoulder. You watch as he adjusts himself in his seat and rests his right hand high up on his thigh, a tell-tale sign that he’s hard as a rock and it’s all because of you. You flash him an innocent smile before continuing your routine and scanning the rest of the club for his henchmen. You count two near the bar, and one near the main entrance. You’re two minutes in and nearly finishing up your routine, dragging your hands down your chest, over the see-through black lace corset that wraps around your ribcage, when your eyes land on the last person you need to be thinking about. Bucky Barnes. He sits at a table in the far back corner. You can’t even drag your gaze away from him long enough to see who else is at his table. Your eyes are locked on his as your skin heats up and the music fades away. He’s too far away for you to notice the way his jaw is clenched or the way a tent is forming in the front of his tactical pants. As soon as you’ve disappeared from the stage, Bucky stealthily adjusts his pants and composes himself before turning to Sam and Walker.

“What the hell? If this is what she does on all of those solo ops Fury sends her on, sign me up. I’ll be back-up for every single one.” Walker says, clearly not caring to hide his own arousal. Bucky imagines his fist colliding with the side of John’s face and it calms him a little before he speaks up.

“Say something like that again and watch where it gets you.” Bucky’s tone is like ice, sending a nervous chill through John Walker’s bloodstream and effectively softening the hard-on in his pants. Unfortunately, Bucky’s own hard-on isn’t going away. Sam isn’t paying any attention to the two men on his team, he’s instead focused on Elias Leveaux, who’s waving over one of his henchmen and whispering something to him. Bucky follows Sam’s line of sight and sees the same thing. The henchman quickly disappears backstage, going through a door labeled “staff-only.” This is either going to be exactly what you and Fury planned for or something that’s going to end badly, there’s really no in between. Your goal was to have Leveaux ask for a private dance, or at least approach you and make contact in some way. You need an in with him.

You’re just stepping into the dressing room backstage when a tall man dressed in all black, one that you recognize as an employee of Leveaux that was standing near the bar earlier, approaches you in a surprisingly professional manner. He keeps is eyes on your face, even though you’re still wearing an outfit that bares nearly your entire body for everyone to see.

“Miss, my employer would like a moment with you in private.” The man’s voice is low, and he keeps his tone hushed so the other girls in the dressing room can’t fully make out his words.

“Your employer?” You ask, easily playing dumb.

“Mr. Leveaux. He’s in attendance tonight and would like a moment of your time, if you’re free to meet with him now.” You pretend like you’re mulling over his words as you examine your makeup in the mirror.

“Should I change clothes?” You inquire, meeting the man’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. He gives you a small smile and shakes his head.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” His answer gives you plenty of information. Elias Leveaux is interested.

Ten minutes later, you’re in one of the private rooms upstairs with the most ruthless vibranium dealer sitting on a couch in front of you. You’ve just walked in and already, his gaze is ravaging your body. He’s basically removing every little piece of your lingerie ensemble with his eyes alone.

“Mr. Leveaux…” His name leaving your lips brings his gaze up to your face. You study him for a moment. It’s the first time you’ve seen him outside of surveillance pictures in SHIELD files. He’s characteristically attractive, with a chiseled jawline and perfectly manicured stubble decorating it. His hair is black, so black that it matches the tattoos you can see peeking out from the collar of his button-up shirt. Your job is always easier when the bad guys are hot as fuck. “What can I do for you tonight?” You ask, an air of confidence surrounding you as you play with your hair and lean against the wall across from him.

“Come closer.” He says, cocking his head and spreading his legs slightly on the couch. He oozes confidence and masculinity, in a way that nearly makes you blush. You obey his command, and as soon as you’re within his reach, he grasps your hand and pulls you down to sit on his knee. “Tell me your name.” You’re learning very quickly that he never ends anything with a question mark.

“I don’t get your first name?” You ask, letting your left hand rest on his shoulder as his comes to rest on your bare thigh. He studies you in silence for a moment, ghosting his hand back and forth along your thigh as you stare back at him. The dim lights in the room and sultry music playing through the speakers only add to the tension.

“Come home with me tonight and you get anything you want.”

You made the decision on a whim. Knowing that Fury not only has an entire surveillance team watching everything that’s happening in the club right now, but that he also has Bucky and whoever is with him on site, you’re not very worried about what might happen. So, this wasn’t part of the original plan, so what? You were supposed to do whatever you needed to do to gain Elias’s attention because you needed an in with him. You needed to become someone he trusted so that you could eventually gain access to his phone. The original plan involved him noticing you tonight, maybe paying for a private dance the next time he sees you at the club, where you’d have the chance to drug him and access his phone to get the names and phone numbers of a few of his contacts. But as soon as he invited you back to his place, you knew that you could knock out the entire possibly months-long op in one night. So, you decided to take the chance. You stand on the curb now, with his long black coat wrapped tightly around your frame since Elias didn’t give you time to go back and put your clothes on over your lingerie. You didn’t want to risk bringing your bag anyway, not with your gun in it. Though you feel naked while not having a firearm within arm’s reach, you imagine this night would take a turn for the worse if he or one of his henchmen went through your bag and found a government-issued one.

Bucky stands with Sam and Walker inside the club, near the exit, as Sam tries to decide what to do in this moment. Sam sure as hell doesn’t want to let you leave with this guy, but no one has come up with a good way to stop you yet, not without breaking your cover. Everyone knows how stubborn you are, but they also know how good you are at your job. If you’ve decided to go home with Elias Leveaux, it’s unlikely that anyone will be able to stop you, while simultaneously being likely that you’ll successfully finish the mission on your own tonight. However, by leaving with him, you’re going to be taking yourself far away from any backup, from any chance of rescue should anything go awry.

After a few more seconds listening to Sam and Walker argue about a plan, Bucky sees the glint of a black car pulling up to the curb in the moonlight, and watches with silent rage as Leveaux’s hand dips down dangerously close to your ass before he reaches to open the back door for you. Fuck it.

“Y/n!” Bucky’s voice reaches your ears so unexpectedly that you freeze. You hope that he knows that your cover name utilizes your real first name, otherwise he just attempted to blow your cover. What a fucking ass. You and Elias turn around at the same time, with Elias taking one look at Bucky and then immediately looking over at you, raising one eyebrow in question.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You mutter to Elias, thinking on the fly. “Just give me a minute with him, then I’m all yours.” Elias glances back at Bucky one more time before nodding at you and sliding into the back seat of the car. You stalk over to Bucky, doing your best to mask some of your anger, stopping just a few inches in front of him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Barnes?”

“Keeping you from getting yourself killed. You’re not leaving with him.”

“You might be a sergeant, but this isn’t the army and I’m not under your umbrella of authority.” You pair the words with a contemptuous stare, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. Bucky smirks at you and licks his bottom lip before shaking his head slightly.

“So, what then? You’re going to sleep with him, drug him, steal the info you need, and somehow get out of his house unscathed? With no backup?” Bucky asks. When he puts it like that, you have to admit that your plan does sound a bit foolish. But still, you won’t back down.

“Yeah, and you’re going to go back into the club and find someone else to take your orders, because it sure as hell isn’t going to be me taking them.” You spit back. You’re waiting for his next retort when his eyes flit away from your face, to the road behind you and a little to the left. He sees something. You’re about to turn your head to follow his gaze when suddenly his hands are on your hips and he’s spinning you around, slamming your back against the brick wall of the club. The long coat that Leveaux gave you earlier falls open just as Bucky presses his body firmly against yours, shielding you from the ricochet of bullets flying around the street.

You’re holding your breath. Bucky hasn’t felt your chest rise or fall even once in the last three seconds since he slammed you against the wall. He glances down at you and sees your eyes scrunched shut and your cheeks flushed.

“Breathe.” He whispers gently, his warm breath fanning over your face. You draw in a harsh breath at his reminder, and he feels your chest rise and push against his own. You both turn your head to the side as the dark car speeds off down the street, each of you quickly memorizing the make, model, and license plate number. Within a second after the first car has passed, Leveaux’s own car takes off after it. There goes your villainous one-night stand. “Are you hurt?” Bucky asks, still keeping you pinned against the wall. You shake your head, but feel something warm and wet against your right abdomen. When you look down, you realize it’s not your own blood turning your skin red, but Bucky’s, seeping through his shirt.

He’s been shot.

Next Part

TAGLIST (if there is a line through your user, Tumblr would not let me tag you)

@yourkenoughyk @charmedbysarge @gyokujyn @noonespecial90 @spngingerbread21 @sadeyes61 @edelweissbarnes @mayamacall @pigeonmama @imemeriebarnes @ladyvenera @buckbuckybuckaroo @torntaltos @urlocalpillowprincess @sagebarness @mrbobinskyfromcoraline @mrs-marc-spector @srlover40 @valhalla-kristin @lightsonnoonehome @sgtjamesbsdoll @charlottestarkey @phoenixstark1708 @samfreakingwinchester @claireelizabeth85 @mcumaniac @ordelixx @hellfirebabe @toasted-bones @dashis-posts @literaryavenger @ahlookatallthelonelypeople @fandomsfeminismandme @buckysbaby-doll @lissame @armystay89 @its-daydreamer23 @ziawbarnes @winterslove1917 @wintermischief @loveme121212 @mondaycomingdown @yujyujj @blackrigel @thescoons @violetwinterwidow01 @frombkjar @wheelsupkels @bubblevicioussss @mikisworls @itvy5601 @dawnissunnysideup @nevertrustapanda16 @obsessed-oops @coffeeshub

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

Note

pls do the “who did this to you” i just imagine and college!bucky x reader and they cant stand each other but share an apartment. reader comes back hurt, bucky sees it and becomes protective.

I think I wrote this before any other request, I loved it so much! Hopefully you do too 💕

"Who did this to you?" (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

College!Roommate!BuckyBarnes x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mentions of abuse, grumpy Bucky, angsty, sassy reader, fluff

You tried to blink the tears away as you roamed through your purse. There was really no need to cry at this moment, but you couldn’t help it. You were fucking shaken from what had just happened.

A curse rolled over your lips when your shaky hands missed the lock on your apartment door a second time. Stupid hands. And the dumb tears in your eyes didn't help you see what you were doing either. You just wanted to get inside, hide away in your room and avoid all of humanity for a solid week. And you wanted it to happen fast. Because you knew the conversation pending about two doors from this one and you dreaded it.

It was shameful enough you came home crying from a date at this hour, you didn’t need a lecture on top of it. But Bucky had told you. He had told you that all men were dicks and that nothing good could come out of a drunken number jot down at a sports bar at 2 am. But you didn’t listen. You never listened to Bucky. Hell, you tolerated him on a good day, so you most certainly wouldn’t take advice from him.

And that’s why you went out with that idiot poser boy John, really just to prove Bucky wrong. But, shit, it bruised your ego to admit he had been right this time. Not that you planned on telling him that.

Fuck, no.

Because all your roommate would do is give you an ‘I told you so’ when you really needed a good hug and a tequila girls' night. But that wouldn’t happen. He would never let you live down the worst date in history.

First, that dickhead had tried to order you a salad and then he pretended to have forgotten his wallet and then, after you had brought him home, he had really thought the date had gone good enough to expect more than a fucking smack in the face. And after you had politely tried to tell him to fuck off, that asshole really tried to force himself on you. Luckily, his roommate had put an end to it before anything more could have happened, but it was enough to shake you to your core.

An annoyed groan echoed through the door before it unlocked and revealed a shirtless Bucky beyond the threshold. He was staring at you broodily as you scrambled to get your key back into your purse and push past him but his disheveled hair and gray sweats made you halt for a second.

“What happened?” If you weren’t so scattered, you would have never thought to see his eyes slightly soften at the sight of you. Bucky would never, though. It was just your shocked mind playing tricks on you.

“Sorry for waking you,” you grumbled as you pushed past him, but Bucky blocked your way immediately.

“What’s your problem?” You snapped as you stared up at him. But he didn’t say a thing. “That’s what I thought,” you whispered to yourself when you pushed at his chest to clear the way.

But Bucky was fast to snatch your wrist. A painful scream escaped your lips as you yanked your arm back, holding it securely to your chest while trying to fight the tears brimming again.

Fucking tears. You didn’t want to cry.

His eyes quintet smaller before he closed the front door with a thud, while simultaneously reaching out to pull your hand back towards him - gentler this time. He pushed up your sleeve to reveal a swollen wrist beneath the cotton. Fuck, that looked worse than it felt. You hissed when his gaze caught yours again.

“What happened?” His voice was less angry suddenly - insistent and calm, somehow.

You pulled your hand back a second time. “Just forget it, okay?” Not the lecture. Not now.

But Bucky was fucking persistent. God, he was annoying. “Y/N. Who did this to you?”

You wanted to just leave but the tone of his voice let a shiver run down your spine. He was staring at you with those damn eyes again and now you really couldn’t stop the tears from falling anymore. It was too much. Too frustrating, too embarrassing.

“You were right okay?!” It broke out of you, your arm flailing in the air. “Are you happy? John Walker is a fucking asshole just like you said. Now leave me alone.”

You turned to the hallway, your sleeve wiping at your eyes while you heard Bucky follow you through the darkened room. “Not happening.”

“What?” You turned back angrily. You were so ready to just punch him right about now. Why couldn’t he just leave you be? It was bad enough as it was.

“I’ll get you some ice.”

“Bucky-”

“No. Just shut up for once and let me at least try to apologize for my species.” He grumbled and you snorted in disbelief. What was wrong with him?

Bucky just stared at you again, and you couldn’t shake the feeling he was waiting for your permission. As if he had ever wanted permission for doing anything. But when he didn’t move for another second you got serious again. “Sorry.”

With a silent nod, he disappears into the kitchen and you went about your bedtime routine. When you entered your room, freshly showered and in your pajamas, Bucky looked up at you. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel, and he was wearing a shirt now too.

Shame, you thought, and immediately scolded yourself for it.

The shower had helped calm you down a little, but now that he was gently pushing the ice back to your wrist, your heart began to race again. The night had been fucking traumatic so far. And having your annoying wouldn’t-touch-you-with-a-six-foot-pole roommate be nice to you for once was terrifying. But at the same time, you felt as though you got to see a side of Bucky today he rarely showed to anyone. And, as much as you hated to admit it, it was nice to not fight with or ignore him for once.

Another then minutes passed of you just sitting in silence, your mind racing with memories of the night and Bucky staring against the wall for the majority of it. You didn’t want to think about what would have happened had Lemar not intervened his dickhead roommate’s plan. But you couldn’t stop. It was all that occupied your mind and it made a whole new wave of anxiety wash over you.

You were so deep in your nightmares, you hadn’t even noticed Bucky get up.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asked with his hand on the doorframe.

You just spared him a quick glance and mumbled a hasty ‘I’ll be fine’ before you moved to lay down and roll on your side, facing your back to the door and Bucky.

“Are you sure?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to tell him the truth. That you were terrified of being alone right now. That you would sleep way better if John Walker had gotten a knee in his balls and a restraining order. But you somehow couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him either. So you just stayed silent, your arms hugging your body as a slow tear ran down to your pillow.

For a while, it was quiet, and you really needed to control your breathing, your muscles tense as you lay there. Hoping - wishing - for this to be over soon. But then you heard Bucky shuffle a few feet away from you and soon, your mattress dipped.

A small but relieved smile snuck on your lips when you felt him carefully inch closer to you. You just lifted your blanket in response until Bucky was snugly pressed against you. His arm wrapped around you and you could feel him relax when your hand covered his.

It was unusual but it felt so nice to be held.

Your breathing evened out with every second and after some time, a steady rhythm had settled within you. You actually relaxed against Bucky’s chest, his face resting in the crook of your neck - you were drifting off to sleep slowly, calmly.

But before you entirely tapped out, Bucky whispered into the darkness, a gruff annoyance in his tone. “If he ever tries something again, you tell me. I’ll make sure he’ll stay the fuck away from you.”

But it warmed you all the more. You wouldn’t take his kindness for granted, though. It meant a lot to you. “Thank you,” you sleepily mumbled as your head buried deeper in your pillow.

You saw Bucky’s frown before your eyes when his face pressed back into your skin. Funny how relationships shifted sometimes.

as always, reblogs and comments are so so so appreciated 🥰 check here for a morning after drabble

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@almosttoopizza @sociallyimpairedme @royalwritersoftheuniverses @i-l-y-3000 @mrsgweasley @prettylittlepluviophile @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 @wintermischief @supersecretblogformytreasures @circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200

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bunnyinfoxclothing · 1 month

Text

Hear me out: Vaggie's Wings

Okay, so we have all seen the head canons that Vaggie either loves or hates her wings. That maybe they are not extremely sensitive and that any unexpected touch sends her into a spiral.

Or that she keeps them hidden except for when she's with Charlie, or that she is just so happy to have her wings back, and preening with Charlie is one of the best things she has ever experienced.

But hear me out: Stretching.

Stretching. Everybody stretches out their back. There is the hands above your head stretch. The hands down low stretch. There is the bed stretch where your legs shake. There is the floor stretch, if you do a lot of flexibility stuff you know, cat/cow stretches, cobra stretch, downward dog.

All different kinds of stretches. Now add wings.

I imagine stretching wings is a lot like stretching out your arms. It's like arms coming out of your back instead of your sides. And just like everything else you stretch, you stretch it in every direction.

Now stay with me.

Vaggie's wings being really big, like I'm talking they look too big for her body, so when she stretches them out, they hit the walls and knows stuff off of shelves.

Everyone in the hotel thinks it's the funniest thing in the world. Charlie thinks it's so cute. Vaggie gets so annoyed 'cause now she has to walk across to opposite sides of the room to pick up the two different piles of objects she's knocked over.

Then one day it happens. She stretches her wings back behind her, trying to crack something after sleeping weird and she just freezes. 'Cause her body feels what her mind had forgotten. And suddenly she's back in the alley. Back on the floor and she's in so much pain and just vulnerable.

The hotel crew just watches as a big stretch suddenly makes her tense. Watch her freeze and her eyes widen.

Then Angel comes in at the wrong time and bumps her wings. It had been something playful they had going on. He would shove her out of his way and she would smack his extra arms out of her face. He would try and scoot past her and get a face full of feathers.

It was just instinct with how tactile they had become with each other, but his arm pushes at her wings and they collapse inward so fast that he jumps back in alarm. And Vaggie is on the floor smacked by her own wings hard enough to bruise.

They curl around her in an almost suffocating way and she wants to scream or cry or anything, but she is just frozen and for a moment nobody knows how to help.

Angel feels too guilty to move and Husk is by his side trying to tell him he didn't do anything wrong while simultaneously keeping Nifty from getting to Vaggie, with her muscle memory encouraging her to stab the vulnerable angel on the floor.

Charlie is panicking. She wants to pick up her girlfriend, bring her to bed, and keep everything bad away for the rest of the day, but she also knows that when Vaggie gets like this, she doesn't always like to be touched. Her wings almost always being a huge no no, even when she does want to be held. But her wings are covering all of her. Charlie can't pick her up without touching them.

So all she can do is watch as Vaggie becomes a victim to her own mind in the presence of all their friends.

If you thought this was going to be cute... I am so sorry, but you should know me better than that by now.

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the0racl30fd3lphi · 1 year

Text

More than friends, less than lovers. x.t

pairing: xavier thorpe x gn!reader

summary: the whole hyde ordeal has faded slowly in the background as life carried on, the student body ready to grasp onto some new drama. luckily for them, a love triangle is exactly what they needed to fuel the gossip.

warnings: fluff, angst, love triangle (kinda)

a/n: y'all this idea literally came to me at 4 in the morning so please bear with me (as i also wrote it at the ass crack of dawn) i am so obsessed with percy and xavier and wanted to write this desperately, he is all i can think about.

word count: 1,727

part 2 part 3

——————————————————————————

You hated this. This, stage, between what you were and what you could be. Xavier was your best friend. He always had been, truth be told. Yet as soon as he broke up with Bianca your relationship had a shift. Suddenly somethings had a deeper connotation, a hidden meaning. You didn’t hate it. In fact, this was exactly what you had been waiting for for years. Until She came along.

You didn’t hate Wednesday, unfortunately. She had done nothing to spark your anger. It wasn’t like she was purposely making Xavier adore her. It looked like she would rather be without it, being honest. But did it annoy the hell out of you that he was so enamored with her so quickly, when she did nothing to give the idea that she would reciprocate? And yet he seemed to not want to give up on her? While simultaneously leading you on, making you believe you might have a romantic future with him? And being oblivious to the pain it caused? It was the only thing you ever thought about.

Genuinely, you wondered how he could still be so obsessed with her to buy her a phone, after she wrongfully got him imprisoned. If that wasn’t a walking red flag you didn’t know what was.

You and Xavier had stayed close throughout this internal turmoil you went through. It hurt like a bitch, but you’d be damned if you lost him over a girl he liked. Suppressing your feelings wasn’t anything you were stranger to, there were other ways to get out your thoughts.

Something you did often, that you’d never tell him was how frequently you abused mimicking his ability. At first he had found it interesting and expressed he had no problem with you copying his habits. But if he knew what you used it for he’d probably be mad.

Each night, after leaving his dorm and sneaking back into yours, you drew a photo from that day. What he looked like when he smiled. How he laughed. Taking into extreme detail his face, scrunched, while watching a show together. Though you weren’t really watching the show so much as watching him.

You kept these drawings in a box, under your bed, all the way in the back. It was hidden enough to never be seen or touched by anyone. So you used the late Rowan’s telekinesis ability to bring it out and put it back. Was this a healthy coping mechanism? Oh not at all, seeing as some drawings that originated from the latest of nights and most intimate moments, would have made Wednesday blush. Of course it's all innocent, right up until you put it down on paper.

"Drawing lover boy again?" Your best friend Val, barked at you from across the room.

"Lover boy? That's a new one," you softly put the new drawing of him in the box, and back under your bed in the furthest corner. "Not such an accurate name this time, you're losing your touch my friend."

"Well you wish it was, so close enough in my book," She shrugs and jumps onto your bed.

"Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades," you pull your laptop on your lap, and press play on your favorite show to watch together.

"You sound like your father," She gags and you playfully slap her arm before shushing her and cuddling into her side.

——————————————————————————

It was lunch the next day, you had a free period the class before so you were waiting for Xavier to show up at your usual bench in the quad. He was taking a little bit longer than normal so you started early on your homework.

"If it isn't Xavier's little girl," she paused. "friend."

"Bye Bianca," you waved and put the volume up on your phone.

“Where is he this time? With Wednesday maybe?" she crossed her arms and smiled maliciously. "It's already started!" She laughed.

You tried to mind your business, she only ever wants to cause problems and you know this. "What's started?" you kept your eyes on your work, putting the volume lower to hear her better.

“He's bored of you. Just like when he got bored of me and you two got closer? He's onto Wednesday now, and done with you." She raised her eyebrows and put on an innocent doe-eyed look. "Well, anyway, have a good lunch!"

She walked away and went back to her friends. You didn't want to believe it. Would Xavier really replace you with Wednesday? He couldn't, he wouldn't. Even when he was dating Bianca, sure you hung out less, but you were still in his life. She was just trying to get in your head right?

“Sorry I'm late, got a little held up in class," He put his stuff down next to him and grabbed some food from the lunch you packed for the two of you. Cooking had become a stress habit for you, so nightly you sneak into the kitchens and prepare something for the next day.

“What kept you?" You put your stuff in your bag and grabbed a snack from the pile.

"Class, I said that didn't I?" He talked through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah but, what kept you? The teacher? Extra work?” you tried to press while eating your half of the lunch.

“Uh, just some extra credit work, wanna bring my grade up you know?” His answer was strained, and his eyes looked anywhere but at yours. So you followed his gaze, to Wednesday.

“Yeah, for sure,” You mumbled and went back to eating. Even if you wanted to escape him for another hour, to try and calm the thoughts in your head, you couldn’t. You two had the same class next period and you always walked together.

——————————————————————————

The day felt strained, any conversation with Xavier fell off track and eventually died out too soon. It’d been too long since this pattern started. Ever since she came to Nevermore, things slowly got worse between you two. You weren’t as close as before and it killed you.

So like every night, afraid to break habit, you snuck out of Xavier’s dorm to hang out. Right before you were going to knock on the door you heard two hushed voices in the room.

“You can’t keep doing this Xavier, you’re hurting her.” a voice pressed him for answers, sounding upset.

“We’re fine, Ajax.” Xavier fought back, offended anyone would accuse him of doing anything to hurt you.

“How dense are you that everyone can see it, but you?” Ajax stressed the end of his sentence still trying to be quiet.

“See what!” Xavier was getting increasingly agitated.

Your grip on the handle faltered and it wiggled just loud enough for both boys to notice it. Suddenly the door was opening and you smiled sheepishly at Xavier, “Hi.”

“I’m gonna leave,” Ajax looked between the both of you and you moved out of the way for him to exit. He sent one last glance Xavier’s way before he closed the door and went back to his dorm.

“Sorry, did i interrupt anything?” You apologized, still feeling the tense air.

“No,” He ran a hand through his hair in the same manor that always drove you crazy. “Nothing important.”

And just as quick as your conversation, Xavier went to sketching as you made yourself comfortable in his bed with your book. How quickly he could make your heart speed up and then break it felt like a world record now.

——————————————————————————

It’s been two weeks now since you accidentally overheard Xavier’s conversation with Ajax that night. Things hadn’t changed between you two, and you can’t figure out if that’s a good thing or not yet. Val had been pushing you to just confront him about your feelings. She knew letting them simmer inside was doing no one any good.

So on a night similar to that one fateful evening, you mustered up the courage to finally ask him what you meant to each other.

“Hey Xavi,” you asked, leaning slightly to the side now as he turned around from the mural he was painting on his wall to look at you. “What do I mean to you?”

He seemed to freeze, face tinting slightly rosier, whether it was blush or anger you didn’t know yet.

“What do you mean?” He dipped his brush in the cup he used to clean them, going right back to his art. It made you study his face, his posture, before continuing your question.

“I mean, I know what you mean to me. I know what i feel for you,” you felt emboldened by seeing him try and play off his nervousness watching him tense and straighten his back. “But I don’t know what I am to you.”

He paused and blinked, it looked like he was going to say something but he made no move to speak. After two minuets he finally opened his mouth, “Where is this coming from? You’re my best friend, you’re.. I..” He trailed off.

“But it’s more than that. More than friends,” he flushed pink, taking in a large gulp. “But less than lovers.” His grip turned white on the brush as he slumped slightly. Still he made no move to speak, so you turned away and went to collect your things. Nothing was said between you two as you packed up what you brought and slung your bag over your shoulder.

As you slipped out the door and into the shadows, mimicking a poltergeist you had once seen and turning yourself almost completely invisible. No one could even hear you breath and you floated through the halls back your dorm.

And in the faint night hair, before you left the wing his dorm was in, you could’ve sworn you heard him call your name and try to get your attention. But it was futile as you just sped up and got back to your dorm quicker.

Val said nothing as you slumped into your bed, rolling your stuff off the side and curling up with a blanket in your arms. She must’ve been able to infer what happened, and she climbed in next to you to hold you as you silently wept. Not even a shake ran through you as the tears fell. No one could hear the sound of your heart shattering that night.

#xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday #peter hynes white #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe #im so in love with him #i wanna shift for him so bad

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belaofarc · 7 months

Text

✩࿐࿔ Phone call

Step dad!John wick x reader

Summary: You’re needy step dad John interrupts your phone call for night time activities.

TW: NSFW, stepcest, strong language

Word count: 1902

It’s late at night and you’re on the phone with your best friend, conversing about random topics.

“Soooo… how’s that step dad of yours?” She asked flirtatiously

“Shut up, he’s not that hot!”

You exclaimed, trying not to sound too enthralled.

“Ugh fine Anyways, there's this guy at my work and he’s really hot, I want him so bad I wanna cry like he needs to come place a ring on my finger.”

“What does he look like?” You asked curiously

Lilium sent you his account while going on forever about her hot co worker.

Until you heard a noise at your door.

Your step dad walks in, his eyes tired, but you could tell he was extremely needy.

And when your mom wasn’t home or awake to satisfy his needs, your always his go too.

He gets on top of you, your bottom half kinda hanging off the bed, as your laying across your bed.

you flash him an annoyed look, Causing him to grab you by the hair.

“Why are you being so bitchy tonight, don’t act like you don’t beg me to fuck that wet cunt every chance you get, now that your on the phone with that little friend of yours you wanna act different, god forbid she knew you were such a cock slut for your own step father.”

He teased in a menacing tone.

“Yeah John, as if” you replied back while rolling your eyes, you go back to listening to Lilium’s ramblings.

until you go blank as your step dad starts playing with your cunt.

His large veiny middle finger slowly going in and out your tight cunt making wet noises.

“Wet for me already” he teased

You cover your mouth to silence your moans, you want to be loud but you know what would happen if your mom caught the two of you together.

“Mmmmm” you accidentally slip out, john bends down near your ear to shush you, while placing kisses on your neck.

“What did you say?”

Asked Lilium concerned cause you haven’t said anything for a while, as she was rambling.

“Oh yes, i agree you should totally ask for his n-number, he seems t-totally with it”

You stutter out while your step dad is still fingering your wet cunt with his pointer and middle finger.

“Purk that pretty ass up for daddy” He growled.

You hesitated a bit, a little nervous cause your friend would probably be able to hear every little noise, but you complied.

“You're such a good girl for daddy doing as your told and being such a good little slut.”

He degraded you as he started sliding his 12 inch cock along your cunt.

“Mhm~” you muffledly replied back with your hand covering your mouth trying not to make any noise, very nervous and a little overwhelmed at how easy it is to make you melt as his touch.

You were practically a slave to his dick and he knew it.

“Y-you should maybe ask for his Instagram, just say you would like to hang out after work or s-something”

You told Lilium trying to pretend like your not being stimulated by your own step father.

“Yes I was thinking that too but I’m too nervous… might have to hold him at gunpoint for it”

“He’s finna meet his ma-“

You were shortly cut off from your sentence as your step dad had started entering your tight cunt, every inch he got deeper filling you up, a mix between pain and pleasure. Making you feel like you're suffocating, trying your best not to moan as loud as you can to alarm Lilium nor your sleeping mother.

“That’s right, that’s my good little princess. Begging your step dad to fuck you while your mother is asleep in the other room… but you like that, don’t you?”

He teased while simultaneously pounding your insides making you want to do nothing but cry from the fact you're practically being torn apart by your moms fiance.

“Y-yes daddy…” You accidentally choked.

“Y/n… no we aren’t doing this tonight” Said Lilium making it clear she can hear your moans but thinks your fake moaning, in which case you could NOT let her find out your being fucked by your own step dad.

“I’m just being silly tonight.” You replied while huffing.

Mouth halfway open from salvation at how good it feels finally being satisfied.

“You better stop being so loud princess, or you’ll get us caught”

His words not doing anything but making you want to make more loud noises at how his words vibrate into your ears making you wanna cum.

You put your phone down, the feelings of his cock too much to not ignore.

“F-fuck yes” You huffed as he continues to stretch your aching cunt, causing you to put your hand over your mouth trying not to make any loud accidental noises

“Mmm you love when daddy fucks you don’t you?” his hands placed on both your sides as he continues pounding you mercilessly.

You’re so cock drunk you can’t even hear what Lilium nor your step dad is telling you anymore, All you know is that you never want this feeling to end.

“Fuck- I mean yes I agree your manager is a bitch”

“That’s what I’m saying like I’m so, so tired of her I just… I just can’t”

She replied back in a fustrated tone.

“That’s right keep talking baby, I’m not even here” said John as he’s still plowing your cunt, the idea of your dad fucking you whilst your trying your best not to make any sound, driving you mad.

“I’m fixing to cum princess… be prepared”

His words slipping off his tongue but as before it’s all muffled all you can focus on is his cock hitting your womb, every thrust making you tear up, at how beautiful and lustful it feels.

You can feel him pounding you harder, slowly becoming sloppyer his orgasm timing with yours.

You place your head in your pillow to try and muffle your moan.

As your orgasm is still hitting, he’s still teasing you. Going in and out your cunt, overstimulating you to the brink of no return.

“I love this tight cunt of yours, if I could I’d be inside you all day princess.” He teased peppering kisses on your neck.

He finally pulls out, allowing you to catch your breath. As his cum slowly leaks out of you.

“Be a good girl and clean daddy up, princess” He says trying to maintain composure at how high his orgasm was.

“And bring your phone over as well there's no need to stop talking to your friend while helping me out baby, I don’t wanna take that away from you”

You hesitantly complied and lifted yourself from the bed, grabbed your phone and got onto your knees.

“Good girl” He praised you as he brushed his fingers through your hair.

You place the phone up to your ears, as you start to slowly place kisses onto his cock.

“You still their Y/N?” Asked Lilium cause you’ve been “quiet” for a while.

“Hey yeah, I’m still here. I'm just reading this fanfic about Tate Langdon.” You said trying to save yourself and explain why you haven’t been replying.

“My husband … as you should” She said in a joking manner.

You start to lick his base slowly leading back up to his tip, John and your juices filling the taste buds of your tongue. you can’t help but be entranced at how good it tasted.

You look up to see john with his mouth open trying to not moan, at how good your warm mouth feels teasing his dick.

“Did I ever tell you tate Langdon was suppose to have a brother?”

You exclaimed to Lilium trying to make conversation trying not to sound too dry so she doesn’t hang up.

You start to slowly take the length down your throat trying hard not to make any gagging noises.

“We ain’t gonna talk about that mother fucker cause if they placed him in that show I’d hurt that MF threw the Tv screen, Willy wonka type shit.”

Lilium replied riled up

You start to choke at how hilarious this comment was to you.

Your step dad finding it amusing your choking and tearing up at how you're taking him to the back of your throat trying not to choke to death.

“Girl- are you okay, I got you on the floor dying” Lilium started laughing

His dick finally slips from your throat, while you're still having a coughing fit.

“Yes” cough “I’m okay you got me on the floor descended i swear.”

“The usual”

You start to slowly take his length once again, practically begging for him to face fuck you. You can’t help but think of the fact of your own step dad face fucking you makes you extremely wet.

You hate to admit it cause your so stubborn but you just can’t help yourself when it’s right in your face .

You start to devour his dick taking every inch going back and forth, making very few but muffled gags as he starts to face fuck you.

Your saliva and his juices leaking from your mouth making bubbly noises.

At this point you can’t help but not care that your friend is on the other line, wondering what the everloving hell is going on with you.

All you can hear is the sound of gurgling and wet noises as he starts to fasten his pace, his orgasm slowly building up.

You look up to see he’s staring right at you, his dark eyes full of hunger and despair, he needs this high or he’ll go crazy, and you know this, so you allow him to continue, knowing you could pass out at any time from the fact he won’t allow you to pull away to catch your breath. Your mouth is aching and sore from taking his large length.

He starts to pour his liquids down your throat, you could feel every ounce shoot straight through you.

His grunt becoming deeper and deeper as he continues to pour more liquids into your warm throat.

He finally pulls out, his head falling back, catching his breath after chasing such a high.

You always wondered how this man could have such a huge load.

But regardless you took it like a good girl.

He pulled out and you place one last kiss onto his dick.

You stand you up and John peppers a kiss onto your forehead.

“Your such a good girl for taking care of daddy tonight. Sweet dreams princess”

He starts to place his clothes back on.

Lilium still on the other line silent.

“H-hey im back im sorry about that, I had to go do something with my mom and I had left the Tv running”

You made up a some lame excuse, to not cause any controversy.

“Girl- I thought you were taking dick I was finna sayyy~”

Lilium said teasingly

“Yeahhhh no… you know I’m in my virgin era”

You replied back, still stunned from the encounter.

“Yeah whatever-“

#stepdad!johnwick #john wick x reader #John wick x yn #John wick x you #john wick imagine #john wick smut

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ateezscupid · 6 months

Text

𝘀𝘂𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗻 ♡

warnings ─ moon!yeosang, sun fem!reader, fluff and smut, soft dom!yeo, switch!reader, established relationship, praising, pet names (sunshine, pretty girl), yeosang is so so so in love, kinda god/goddesses!au

tags ─ @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @jeonride

m.list ─ pic reference

You were the sun, and he was the moon. As different as you two were, it only brought you guys closer. You were known throughout the galaxy for your warmth and light, all of the planets revolving around you and basking in your glow. You were beautiful, intelligent, and generous, but you were lonely despite all of this. All of the other Gods you spoke to weren't your type. They were all arrogant, egocentric, narcissistic, or foolish. It was starting to become a pain looking for an eternal lover.

You wanted someone mature, loyal, and humble, and none of the men you talked to were any of those things. Oh, how you longed for someone to share your light with, someone to make you feel whole. At this point, it didn't matter who you chose. All you wanted was to have someone next to you.

But one day, your dream came true. One day you meant a mysterious and enchanting man, named Yeosang. He was a Moon. Not particularly a man you wanted to share your light with but at the same time, you couldn't resist him.

Yeosang was nothing like you. He was cold, distant, and shrouded in mystery. At first, he didn't even want to talk to you. He kept trying to avoid you whenever you started speaking to him. It made you wonder why? Why didn't want to speak to you? You were in no way threatening. Hell, you were a sun. The only thing scary about you was that you were a bit...hot. But that wasn't anything bad.

Soon, Yeosang began to trust you. It took a while, but he made it. But once he did, he didn't understand why he liked you. Perhaps it was the way you reflected his light or the way you glowed in his darkness. He didn't talk to you at first because he was nervous and hesitant. But, he welcomed you in his orbit and you two hit it off after.

You two hit it off really well.

"Sangie~..." you muffled your moans shoving your face into his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, and desperate moans falling from your lips alongside his name.

That was the best part about Yeosang. He was an absolute beast at sex. Slow thrusts, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, light choking, pet names, rubbing your clit in slow circles making it impossible for you to focus on him. Your mind would go blank whenever you two got together. In all of your years of living, you've never experienced pleasure this good. You've never orgasmed with any of your partners the same way you would with Yeosang.

"Aw, sunshine," he knew that pet name would annoy you sometimes, so he'd always use it during sex. You'd be too fucked out to get mad at him. "You're so pretty underneath me like this.."

"You thought you could handle me, huh?" he chuckles in your ear. You moaned in response and arched your back, nails digging into his skin at this point and the knot in your stomach untying slowly. You wanted to cum so badly around him. You've been feeling pent up for the past couple of days and didn't understand why. It was a new feeling for you.

"Good girl..." he kisses your neck softly. "Taking me so well, so wet for me pretty girl..."

"Yeo..."

"You gonna come?" his head perks up, his thrusts accelerating and his thumb now circling your clit to push you over the edge. "Do it, let go, I got you..."

The both of you were close to release. Every time you had sex with Yeosang, you'd have such a strong orgasm you'd pass out by the end. Choosing him as your eternal lover was a smart choice. You hold him close, crying his name and inching closer and closer to your climax. Your walls clenched around his length making it impossible for him to keep going.

Together, you held onto each other as you two came simultaneously. You loved how vocal he was in bed. He'd always moan your name when releasing. He kissed your cheek and slowed his thrusts.

"I love you..." he whispers in your ear. Tiredly, you mumbled the same words back. He chuckles at your cuteness and sits up. "Rest. I'll clean you up."

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #dom ateez #dom!ateez #dom!yeosang #dom yeosang #yeosang smut #yeosang x reader #yeosang fanfic #yeosang fluff

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orions-athenaeum · 1 year

Text

From Your Smile to Your Soul

Bucky Barnes x F!Enchanced!reader

Synopsis: You don't want to go on this mission and Bucky doesn't want the girl whose smile brings him happiness getting hurt. But what can either of you do when your job is to heal others? If only you had told him that you weren't ok, if only he had made sure you were right behind him.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: angst, language, drinking, mentions of guns/injury/blood, hypothermia, asshole SHIELD agents, Bucky gets teary eyed, happy fluff-filled ending...

-I do not consent to having any of my writing, under the username Orions- Athenaeum, translated, posted or published on third party sites, apps or platforms-

Bucky didn’t think there was anything worth enjoying in his new life. Of course he appreciated Steve’s unwavering loyalty and the ease that he brought Bucky after he was freed from Hydra. There was also Sam’s annoying banter which usually gave Bucky something to smirk about, but he would never admit that to anyone. When Bucky didn’t understand what a text message was, Wanda and Natasha helped him adapt to the technological wonders of this modern time. He was even glad when Tony would crack an “old joke” just to get under his skin, because Bucky knew humor was Tony’s way of showing he cared. While Bucky was grateful for everything his teammates did for him, there was still a very obvious void, that felt almost like a ten ton weight sitting on his chest, trying to steal his breath from him. That feeling of immense pressure and simultaneous emptiness only began to lessen about four months ago, on a balmy summer evening when Steve dragged Bucky to one of Tony’s lavish galas.

Bucky didn’t know who or what the event was for, in all honesty he figured Tony was just looking for another excuse to throw a party. The former Winter Soldier had been a part of the team for a while now, but these types of social gatherings never failed to make him feel extremely unsettled. Maybe it was the way he felt people’s eyes lingered on him for too long, whether it was from fear or judgment. Or maybe it was that the suit Natasha had helped him pick out was nearly suffocating him. It could have also been the glass filled with some unknown booze that felt uncomfortably heavy in his vibranium hand. All this to say, Bucky was certain the tension in his shoulders was palpable as he checked his watch for the thirtieth time that evening; he was waiting for the hands to tell him he had waited a respectful amount of time before he could seek out the comfort of his own room. Bucky reluctantly pulled his eyes up from his watch and began to scan the room, hoping to find Steve and with him some sense of calmness. His search was cut short when his gaze landed on a girl chatting with Peter near the bar. She had short y/h/c hair that reminded him of a girl from his own time, messier and not as curled perhaps, but classic nonetheless. Her long, black, strapless dress and sleek platform heels reminded him of something Natasha might have worn. He wondered for a second if maybe Nat had helped her pick out an outfit too. Deciding that was an utterly ridiculous thought a second later, Bucky found himself enamored by her smile. It was all he could focus on: that beautiful, perfect smile. One corner of her mouth curved up more than the other and her full red painted lips made it impossible for Bucky to look away. Seconds felt like hours and as Bucky continued to look at her, he found a smile involuntarily tugging at his own lips. Amazingly enough, he didn’t feel so out of place anymore.

“It’s rude to stare.” Bucky quickly jerked his head towards Sam’s voice. His smile immediately faded as he glared at his friend.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Wilson.” Even Bucky didn’t believe his words and chances were Sam didn’t either. Despite being a pain in the ass, he was smarter and more observant than Bucky liked to give him credit for. Sam rolled his eyes and ignored Bucky’s hint to drop the topic.

“Why don’t you go and ask her to dance?” Bucky couldn’t breathe. There was no way in hell he could do that. Standing across the room was the prettiest girl he’d seen and Sam thought it would be a good idea for him to ask her for a dance.

“Yeah that will not be happening.” Bucky tossed back the rest of the liquid in his glass, knowing that the pleasant burn of the alcohol would not affect him in the slightest. He wished it would. Maybe a little liquid courage was the push he needed to go over and speak to her.

“Look man, she’s gorgeous and really sweet, I met her this morning. All I’m saying is that she would totally say yes if you asked. She was staring at you too, by the way.” This morning. Bucky recalled Sam telling him he met a new member of the team earlier that morning. Maybe he would have the chance to see her again if she was the one Sam was referring to. Shaking his head to extinguish any false hope he had conjured up, Bucky realized that Sam was telling the truth; the girl was staring right back at him. After a few seconds, she raised her delicate fingers and sent a small wave. Bucky almost keeled over on the spot. Not knowing what else to do, he awkwardly raised his own hand back. She smiled. He smiled. And just like that Bucky knew he was a goner.

Four months later…

“No.” Bucky refused to change his mind. Steve rolled his eyes at his friend, who currently stood across the room with his arms crossed over his chest with a look that said, this is your final warning. Steve knew better than to try and push his best friend around, but this really was a mission that required her skills. There were dozens of hostages, and they would need medical attention. Not from doctors, but from her.

“Buck. You know I wouldn’t put Y/n in the field if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary.” Bucky did not move. Steve sighed. And people call me stubborn. He thought to himself.

“I understand that you want to protect her Bucky, I really do. But she is a part of this team. Y/n’s an Avenger and her role is to heal people. Now, there are people who need her help and she is going to go and help them. If you would prefer not to lead this mission than I can have someone else take-”

“No.” Bucky was quick to cut off Steve’s offer. His tone was firm, but just below the surface Bucky was panicking. He didn’t want his girl out in the field. But if Y/n had to go, he couldn’t stand the thought of not being out there with her. Steve raised a brow.

“I’ll go. But you better make sure there is no way we’re gonna get ambushed. We’d better be prepared. I won’t hesitate to beat your ass if something happens to Y/n.” Bucky turned to leave the conference room as Steve muttered something under his breath.

“What?” Bucky snapped.

“I just said it seems like you care about Y/n an awful lot when she isn’t even your girlfriend.” Bucky knew Steve was trying to get him to admit that he was too scared to ask her out. But honestly, Bucky wasn’t in the mood for his best friend to play matchmaker. So, without a look back, he stormed out into the corridor towards the gym. He was set on taking his anger and fear out on some punching bags, but as he walked through the halls all he could think about was her smile. He needed that smile safe. If he could just wrap it in his arms and shield it from all the bad, he would be happy for the rest of his life.

————————————————————————

You were certain there had to have been some kind of mistake. The thick Manila folder that sat on your desk marked “MISSION BRIEFING” had to have been delivered to the wrong room. Bucky was just across the hall, so maybe it was for him. That had to be it, because there was no way they were seriously considering putting you out in the field after only four months of being on the team. You weren’t even supposed to be a field agent. Nick Fury had recruited you because of your powers. Sure, you could mend a broken bone and fuse a gunshot wound close, but that did not mean you fought on the front lines. It meant you waited until your team was back to the safety of the compound to help them. Refusing to open the folder you picked it up and made your way to Bucky’s door.

“Buck?” You called as you knocked on the cool wood. You gasped as it opened not a second later. Bucky was standing in front of you in all his post gym, sweaty, shirtless glory.

“Hey, doll. What’s up?” He asked with a smirk tugging at his lips. That damned smirk. You immediately drew your gaze away from his tight abs and pretty smile up to his eyes. Which, honestly, didn't help because you found yourself getting lost in a sea of deep cerulean blue. It seemed that every aspect of Bucky had an overwhelming effect on you. Deciding it was best to stare at the carpet instead, you fumbled with the folder before showing it to him.

“I think they gave this to me by accident, because I’m not usually in the field. Actually I’ve never been in the field and so it’s probably yours and I just wanted to give it to you.” Your words came out all in one breath and you kept your gaze focused on the floor at your feet. You felt Bucky gently take the folder from your grasp. You were ready to let out a sigh of relief when you felt his fingers thread through your own as he lightly pulled you into his room. As your heart beat began to quicken, the brief confusion you had felt quickly morphed into anxiety. Why didn’t he just take his mission briefing and send you on your merry way? He gestured for you to sit down on his bed as he sat next to you.

“No, this is yours.” He finally said. The finality in his tone made you want to throw up. “Steve told me this morning. But I made him promise that there would be no combat, and I’ll be leading. There will be two other agents, so you’re not alone. The mission should be fairly quick, in and out and then we come home. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” His words were somewhat of a comfort. You also knew that the rest of the team was fairly confident in your abilities, since Nat, Sam and Steve had all trained extensively with you over the last four months. Bucky refused to spar with you but that's besides the point. Although, you weren’t really worried about not being able to defend yourself. You had been trained and ran through mission scenarios, but the weight of the briefing envelope in your hands was making this too real. It also didn’t help that every single agent wanted to rip you apart because you were given a spot on the Avengers without making it into SHIELD as an agent. You had tried to put yourself through training, but during your first field test, you instantly choked. All of the sudden the gun pointed at the enemy agent in front of you made your arms feel like lead. Your brain wouldn’t let you pull the trigger, so you stood there, frozen. You were positive you were going to be removed from the program, but when Nick Fury heard about your healing powers, you were suddenly offered a spot as an Avenger. So, to put it plainly, every single SHIELD agent hated you. They hated that you failed training and still got the most coveted title, they hated that you lived in Avengers Tower, they hated that you got everything they wanted. The real problem, which was much bigger than any jealous agent’s spiteful remarks, was that you could not stomach the idea of hurting someone. That was the reason why you failed your training in the first place, because bad guy or not, you were given the gift of healing. You were never supposed to cause pain and it seemed as if the concept of harming someone was against your very nature. Pulling the trigger on a paper silhouette was one thing. Aiming a gun at another human being was quite another. So while the training you had done prepared you for taking down enemies, you’re not entirely sure you could bring yourself to that.

“Ok.” Was all you could manage. Some time during your internal spiral Bucky had begun rubbing soothing circles on your back. Bucky was another aspect of this assignment that you had to consider. You weren’t sure how to feel about him going on the mission with you. Your relationship was a little confusing at times to say the least. You knew that you cared about him more than a friend would and he often made it seem like he felt the same way. You had felt this way from the very first night you met him, when he caught you staring at him and you awkwardly waved (who the hell waves at a hot guy across the room?) Bucky was also the first one to make you feel like you were truly part of the team. He would bring your breakfast to the lab when you were working mornings and didn’t have time to eat, he would make sure you had a good spot on the couch for team movie nights (it was coincidentally always next to him) and then there were time like these where he would comfort you and do everything in his power to make you feel safe and cared for. Basically, in the four months that you had known him, you were falling in love with Bucky Barnes.

“Ok, what, doll?” And those stupid pet names definitely weren’t helping you keep your feelings at bay.

“Ok. Sounds good, I guess I’ll see you at the hangar in a few hours.” You replied, unwilling to meet his eyes, you slowly picked up the folder and walked towards his door. An unnerving feeling overcame you as you heard the heavy wood close behind you.

————————————————————————

You figured the mission would not be a walk in the park, and as you sat in the middle of Siberia, with two agents that hate you and hostages with far more injuries than Steve had anticipated, you knew this easily made your “Top Ten Worst Days list.” Of course you were more than happy to help every hostage, that was the only part you enjoyed. However, the amount of energy it took to heal so many injuries resulted in black dots clouding your vision by the time you had helped the last hostage. The thing about your healing abilities was that you had to use your energy to heal others. Meaning healing their injuries literally exhausts you. And on top of the twenty broken bones, abrasions and burns you’ve healed, Megan and Nick had a few bumps and bruises from breaking down the door and restraining the guards that needed mending. According to Megan, Bucky told them to go to you since they need to be in top shape for the trek back to the safe house. While the safe house sounded pleasant, the fact that it was currently 40 below and that the shelter was three miles out in the middle of a forest, was not as pleasant. After you finished healing Megan’s bruised ankle, the dizziness that had settled in a few minutes prior was now overwhelming. If you could just sit down for a few minutes and maybe close your eyes, you would feel much better.

“Get up. We need to meet Bucky in a few minutes. A storm is moving in so we can’t take the jet back until morning. Bucky secured the hostages in an exit raft and we need to find the safehouse soon.” Megan sneered as she pushed your hands away from her ankle.

“Could I just have one minute? I’m not feeling-”

“You’re an Avenger, right? So get off your ass and start walking.” You hesitantly stood up, apparently too quickly because you began swaying and lurched forward, catching yourself against a tree. The frozen bark cut into your skin, slicing your palms. Willing your head to stop spinning you looked down at your bloodied hands. Another downside of your powers was that once your energy had been spent, it became nearly impossible for you to continue healing, which meant you could not help yourself or others when you were this exhausted. You heard Megan’s boots crunch in the snow as she began to walk, blatantly ignoring your compromised state. Since it appeared you had no other option, you began walking as well, but the edges of your vision were fuzzy and it felt like someone had thrown your head against a wall. If you could just get to Bucky maybe he would let you rest for a minute. No. You couldn’t ask him for that, Megan and Nick already thought you got special treatment for being an Avenger you didn’t need them to see parts of yours and Bucky’s friendship in the field. Plus, Bucky had been acting weird ever since you stepped foot on the quinjet. He called you by your last name and his usual soft eyes and teasing tone had left him completely. It made sense, you told yourself as you pushed forward, because this was his job, and he didn’t really care about you like that. The frigid chill had begun to seep through your suit, and though you had never been a huge fan of the cold, you were thankful for it now. It was keeping you awake and alert, the sting of the snow hitting your face gave you something to focus on so you wouldn’t pass out. Finally you reached the clearing where Bucky was waiting. You glanced up to find his concerned gaze looking you over. You used all your strength to muster up a smile and nodded your head to let him know you were ok. He seemed satisfied enough, and told the team to start walking.

How you managed to walk two miles you weren’t sure, but what you did know was that you were now falling behind the others. You were following Nick and Megan who had been keeping a fairly even pace with Bucky. But now, with the snow whipping all around you, you couldn’t see or hear any of them. Maybe this would be a good time to take a break. It would only be for a few minutes and nobody would notice that you had taken a breather. As the snow storm had progressed you had lost feeling in your fingers and toes, and it seemed like everything was moving in slow motion. You thought you reached out to brace yourself on a tree but instead you felt like you were falling. It didn’t hurt when you hit the powdery snow, its cold embrace only called you to rest your eyes. You obeyed and felt your eyelids slowly blink shut. I’ll only rest for a minute, you told yourself. Just as you were about to let sleep pull you under, you heard shouting. The voice sounded familiar as it called your name over the howling of the wind. You knew you should answer but you simply didn’t have the energy. Then, you felt strong arms lift you up and a familiar fresh, piney scent filled your nose. This is what Bucky smells like, you thought to yourself.

“Could you open those pretty eyes for me. Please, doll. I’m begging you, give me anything.”

Bucky sounded like he was talking underwater.

“You are not allowed to do this to me, I swear I’ll make it up to you but you gotta wake up so we can talk.” And why did he seem so worried? You wanted to tell him that you were fine but you couldn’t get the words out.

“Why wouldn’t you say something?” Bucky’s muddled voice had more of an edge this time. His sharp tone made sense, he had every right to be mad at you, it was you who was slowing down the mission and now he had to pick up the slack.

“I didn’t see her fall behind, she was fine a minute ago.” This time it was a woman who responded and somewhere in your mind you figured it was Megan. But you hadn’t been “fine a minute ago,” in fact you hadn’t felt ok for over an hour.

“You’re supposed to watch out for your teammates, so I’m going to ask again, why the hell did you not say something?” In your dazed state you realized Bucky was directing his anger at Megan not at you and well you felt some reprieve from the fact that Bucky didn’t seem too disappointed in you, you were beginning to slip further and further into the shadows of sleep. You knew you needed to stay awake, but you couldn’t feel anything, not the snow hitting your cheeks, or Bucky’s frantic pace, and your entire body felt completely numb. Time began to pass strangely after that moment, you heard some more gargled shouting before you felt your body being laid down on something hard. You found some odd burst of energy and forced your eyelids to open, looking up to find Bucky’s worried eyes desperately trying to hold your gaze. His eyes seemed glossier and much more concerned than normal, but you couldn’t figure out why. “C’mon Y/n, I’ll get you warm and you’ll be alright. I’m gonna have to get your wet gear off first, but I promise I’ll make it all better ok, sweetheart? I love you too much to let go now.” Love? Why would Bucky be talking about love, he seemed so frustrated with you in the field. His face disappeared from view a moment later and you thought you heard the sound of fabric ripping. Bucky yelled for someone to get blankets and before you could tell him that all his shouting was confusing and much too loud, you surrendered yourself to the peaceful comfort of unconsciousness.

You didn’t know when you became aware of your surroundings again, whether it had been minutes or weeks, you couldn’t tell. You could smell burning wood accompanied by a familiar piney scent that you soon identified as Bucky, but you couldn’t open your eyes to confirm your theory. When you heard a deep voice laced with a Brooklyn accent from somewhere around you, you didn’t have to look at Bucky to know whose arms were protecting you.

“...Remember when we were in Queens and you made me go inside that old book store with you? We stayed there until they closed and you kept handing me books that would, “change your life, I swear it, Bucky.” I didn’t like reading much in the forties but I woulda stayed there with you for weeks if it meant I got to see that smile of yours every time you read something funny. I’ll take you back there but you gotta wake up first, alright?” Bucky’s words were soothing, and his soft voice gently lulled you back to sleep before you could answer his request.

Bucky was talking again when you tried to wake up for a second time,

“...Everything about you is perfect, doll, like how you always scrunch your nose when Sam’s cooking looks awful, but you eat it anyway with a smile on your face because you’re just happy he cared enough to make you something.” You wanted to smile for Bucky, open your mouth, say anything. But your head was still too heavy and you couldn’t break through the cloud of sleep that kept dragging you back under.

This time you could feel warmth running up and down your arms, as if someone was trying to coax you from sleep with their caring touch. You waited for Bucky to talk to you again, you found yourself needing his words to anchor you to consciousness.

“...You should’ve told me sooner, sweetheart, I coulda carried you, given you a little break. You know I would do just about anything for you right? Hell, I think everyone on this damn team thinks I’m weak when it comes to you. But you don’t make me weak, Y/n, you give me a reason to smile, you make me feel better about the world and like I’m not too broken to be a part of it…” You wanted to take Bucky’s face in your hands and tell him that he was not broken, that he was worth more than your words would ever mean. But it still seemed like too much work to open your eyes, so you kept them shut and let your mind slip back into sleep for a little longer.

————————————————————————

Your skin felt like it was on fire, that was the first thing you noticed when you fully regained consciousness. Something heavy was laying across your stomach and there was a solid presence holding you that seemed to radiate the same amount of heat as the crackling fire in front of you.

“Y/n? Doll? Thank God you’re finally awake, how’re you feeling?

At the sound of his voice you slowly turned to face Bucky and were met with a look of adoration in those blue eyes, which made you feel even worse for making him take care of you.

“I’m sorry I messed the mission up, Barnes.” Even though your sight was still a little blurry you could make out the confusion in his face. Pushing some hair out of your face he asked,

“You never call me Barnes, what’s up with that Y/n/n? And what are goin’ on about, “messing up the mission,” you didn’t do a damn thing wrong. If Megan and Nick had done their jobs as teammates you wouldn’t be in this situation. It’s my fault too ya know, I should've checked you over before I made you walk three miles. You looked a little tired when I first saw you but I think I tricked myself into believing you were safe, all I ever want is for you to be safe, Y/n.” You weren’t quite sure how to answer him, your brain felt like quicksand, trapping your thoughts from becoming words.

“And you never answered my question, Y/n, you feelin’ better?” You nodded slowly, during the time you had been asleep your body had slowly heated up, you had regained feeling in your limbs and your mind was feeling less foggy by the minute.

“Thanks for getting me out of there, Bucky. I mean, it’s not like I needed your help, I just wanted to sleep for a few minutes.” You attempted to lighten the mood by pushing out a laugh that sounded more like a light exhale.

“There she is, that’s the girl I love.” You whipped your head back with such force that Bucky had to place his hand on your neck to prevent you from giving yourself whiplash. You stared into his eyes, determined to find out if he was really speaking the truth.

“I do love you Y/n, I have from the minute I caught you smiling at Tony’s stupid gala. You’re perfect to me, in every possible way, from your smile to your soul.” Of course you felt the same way for him. Bucky was your best friend, he made you laugh and his heart and the care that he gave out freely never ceased to amaze you. You watched his lips turn into the most perfect smile and you found yourself smiling twice as big knowing that there was no moment in your life more wonderful than this one. Right before you could respond a shiver ran through you and Bucky turned you around so you were facing the fireplace again.

“Hey, Bucky?” you received a low hum and a kiss behind your ear in response. “You should really shower, you smell like an old barn.” He chuckled and replied, “Jeez, doll, I save your life and tell you that I love you, and all you do is tell me that I smell?” You could tell that Bucky knew you were teasing, but you didn’t feel like letting him off the hook quite yet.

“I guess I love you too.” You mumbled with an obvious grin in your voice.

“I know you do doll, I only wish you had said something sooner, then I woulda had more opportunities to torture you for makin’ fun of me.” With that, Bucky began to tickle your stomach, while still being wary of your injuries, earning an eruption of giggles from your mouth. After a few seconds Bucky pulled you back against him and whispered a soft, “sleep, sweet girl, I’ve got you,” into your hair. Your eyes slowly fell shut and you felt completely content, knowing you were safe in the arms of the man who loved you, and who you loved right back.

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky fluff #marvel fan fiction #bucky barnes x enhanced reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky one shot #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic

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msbigredmachine · 1 year

Text

On Sight - Part 1 (Jey Uso/OC)

The fact that we hate each other don’t mean we can’t fuck. Just don’t fall in love with me. Jey Uso/OC 4-part series.

Warnings: The usual smut, angry sex, toxic behavior, angst

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: A fellow reader/writer suggested an "enemies to lovers" trope. Well, here is part 1! Let me know what you think.

ON SIGHT MASTERLIST

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PART 1 - HATE?

His big, callused hands clutched your hips and yanked your ass closer to him. He sank himself back into you, uttering a low moan. You spread your legs wider for him, feeling his pelvis nudge against your backside. He squeezed your ass, giving the juicy skin a hard slap before rapidly thrusting into you.

With your face pressed to the mattress, you bit into the bedsheet to contain your moans. Your toes curled, tensing yet again from his forceful movements. You felt him shudder inside you and you arched your back some more, wanting him deeper.

"You're fuckin’ impossible," Jey growled, smacking your ass again.

"Ion wanna hear it, just fuck me." Your voice was supposed to come out angry and impatient, but instead it was high-pitched and pleading.

He leaned down to kiss on your neck, the feel of his gold chain on your skin causing your nipples to strain against the soft sheets beneath you. You clung to them as he yanked your ass up higher and drove deeper into you, making you take all his dick. He smacked your backside again, and a muffled squeal of pleasure escaped you as your pussy squeezed his dick. Immensely turned on, you reached between your legs and touched yourself, your fingers brushing over his thrusting cock, increasing stimulation. His roughness and dominance was exhilarating. He was excellent at controlling your body, amplifying your pleasure to the max. You would never admit it to him, though, cuz you would never hear the end of it.

Without warning, he shoved your hand away from your pussy. In retaliation, you reached back and hit him in the torso, hard, your fist bouncing off the ridges of his abs. He spanked your ass repeatedly as punishment, at least ten times, grinning when you cried out from the stinging pain. He ran his palm over the curve of your ass, his thumb teasing your asshole with your juices before pushing inside with relative ease. Your muscles contracted and twitched around him, heightening both your pleasure.

"Damn you, motherfucker, fuuuck," you groaned, rolling your hips in time with his, rocking up and down his dick and his thumb simultaneously.

Jey exhaled a breathy moan. "You know how good I make you feel," his thumb curled inside your tight asshole, causing you to clench around him yet again, "Yet you keep callin’ me out my name."

"Don’t flatter yourself. You ain’t all that,” you lied, “That dick is better when I fantasize about it.” Pushing up on your elbows, your upper body twisted to face him, and you almost took your words back. He looked so sexy; his naked body was slick with sweat, his beard gleamed with your essence, having buried his face in it minutes ago. The look of pure pleasure on his features had you itching to touch yourself again.

Jey’s smirk was sinfully ice-melting. “Still talkin’ shit, huh?”

"Damn right," you said through gritted teeth, "That’s what you get for being so fuckin’ arrogant, it makes me so-"

Your words evaporated when all of a sudden, he pushed himself all the way inside you and held himself there. As he did, a lewd, loud squelch echoed around the bedroom. The sound came from your pussy.

"Wet?" he finished smugly.

He did that shit on purpose, but damn it, he was right. You were literally dripping down your legs and you were only going to get wetter. You would have been annoyed if it didn’t feel as amazing as it did.

"You’re so fuckin pretty, princess. If only your words weren't so ugly."

He resumed thrusting, fucking you harder. Clearly determined to drive you insane, and it was working. His groans blended with yours as the speed of his thrusts increased, and you knew he was just as close to climax as you were.

“You think you so much better than me, huh,” he snarled. He removed his thumb from your anus and squeezed your ass cheek in his rough palm. "Yet here you are, soaking wet for me, moaning my name, about to come all over my dick.”

He throbbed inside you as he spoke, and, as predicted, it made you wetter. Every limb and muscle you owned thrummed with pleasure. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling hard enough to force a deeper arch to your back. His heavy balls slapped your clit repeatedly, drove you mad with need, the need to release.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you voiced out breathlessly, fingers digging into the blankets in front of you. His strokes were god-tier, hitting all the right spots. The man was in your stomach and you were seeing stars. "Mmmm, right there, right fucking there…”

"Shit feel good, don’t it?” Jey bragged, “You love this dick, that’s why you keep runnin’ yo mouth, you want me all up in them guts just like this."

"Fuck you," you repeated, tears springing to your eyes when he started to ease up out of nowhere. "Damn it, go faster, I’m so fuckin’ close," you whined.

"Shut the fuck up. You come when I say you come," he snapped. His thrusts slowed, and he swiveled his narrow hips, dragging his dick along your inner walls. Taking matters into your hands, you bounced yourself on his dick, fucking him right back. Grunting in frustration at your stubbornness, he grabbed your waist and tried to hold you down, but you would not be denied your nut, or his.

“Damn, girl, damn,” he gasped. It sounded like gunshots going off from how hard you were throwing it back, bouncing your thick ass noisily and forcefully on his dick like you had a point to prove. His grip on your waist slackened, his grunts softened into higher-pitched, intimate moans as his body gave in to numbing pleasure.

"Don't you dare come before me," you warned, capitalizing on his moment of weakness by grinding your ass on him, creating more of a thrust with your combined movements. Jey held you down against the bed with his big body, smothering you in the best way. His fingers found your pussy folds, applying firm and rapid pressure as he drilled you into the mattress. His touch kindled your blazing fire, the dam within you waiting to burst and release all the tension inside.

“You close, baby?” Jey asked you. When you didn’t reply right away, he brought his hand down hard on your butt. “I asked you a question. Answer me!”

“Mmm, nghhh, yes, baby, I’m about to come. Fuck!”

“Ya damn right. You gon’ come for me like the slut you are." He rubbed your pussy faster and kept pounding into you, hearing you whimper as you both neared the precipice.

You couldn’t stop the chorus of curses pouring from your lips as the wave of indescribable ecstasy rose, peaked, and then plummeted. You came hard on his dick, your body melting and trembling all at once. His already sloppy thrusts now sounded wetter than ever as your cum dripped between you, adding more friction to his deadly strokes.

"Aww, fuck..." he moaned, suddenly pulling out of you and jerking his dick in his fist. His entire body stiffened, and with a strangled groan he exploded all over your backside. A tired purr escaped your lips as you felt his warm seed spill onto your skin. Your pussy clenched from the added sensation as you struggled to recover from the intense orgasm.

"Shiiit," Jey drawled as he rested his drained dick between your ass cheeks, thrusting briefly to ensure he was all done. He gave your ass one last squeeze and dropped back down to the bed with a sigh of satisfaction. His body was warm next to you, and you fought the urge to move in for a cuddle. You never cuddled or kissed afterwards. Not when you hated his guts and he hated yours. You both lay side by side, breathing hard, basking in the aftermath of yet another bad decision.

He climbed out of the bed to retrieve his clothes. You fished out a blunt from your side drawer and lit one up, the first puff soothing your lungs. As you watched him get dressed, you found yourself regretting your impulsive decision to fuck him. You then wondered why you even bothered with regrets - you and Jey fucked practically every day.

Buttoning up his denim shirt, Jey glanced your way and then crooked his index finger at you. Rolling your eyes, you begrudgingly tucked your blunt between his waiting lips, watching him take a long drag and shorten your ration. Greedy fucker.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, standing up from the bed.

You let out a derisive snort, blowing out a ring of smoke. “No. Fuck off.”

A knowing smirk crossed his lips as he headed for the door. That was always your answer, but you both knew better. “Tomorrow it is. I’ll see you then, baby.”

--------------------

God, you hated him.

You despised him with every fiber of your being. He was the bane of your existence. You hated his chiseled face. You hated his cute ass dimples. You hated the way he wrestled in the ring. You hated his breathtaking smile. You hated his high-pitched, funny laugh. You hated that everyone thought he was so cool. Basically, you hated everything about Jey Uso. Each time you laid eyes on him, your blood always boiled from just how much you despised his sorry ass.

Like now. As you glared at the back of his head while he went over the upcoming backstage segment with the director. He was wearing that crop top again, showing off his lean body and the new tattoo on his rib cage. The art was loud and garish, yet all you wanted to do was run your tongue over that same expanse of skin and make him moan for you.

Yeah, these mixed feelings were not helping at all.

You jumped when the director called your name, informing you that filming was about to begin. You caught a glimpse of Jey’s smirk as he entered the Bloodline’s locker room, knowing damn well he was the reason for your distraction. Fighting the urge to throttle him, you focused on the director’s countdown which was seconds away.

“And…go!”

“We are here in front of the Bloodline’s locker room, just moments after Roman Reigns suffered a beatdown at the hands of Cody Rhodes, Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens earlier tonight. He’s refused to be treated in the trainer’s room, choosing instead to remain in his locker room where the doctors are attending to him.” You tried to look concerned, immersing yourself into your role as backstage interviewer. “I’m hoping I can catch one of the members of the Bloodline for an update on the Tribal Chief’s condition.”

On cue, Jey emerged from the locker room, shoulders squared, trademark sneer on his face showing off his grill. Your mouth watered against your will.

“Oh, joining us right now is one half of the undisputed Tag Team champions, Jey Uso. Jey, what can you tell us about Roman’s current condition? And can we get a comment on Sami’s remarks about putting an end to the Bloodline once and for all at Wrestlemania?”

Shit, he smelled so good. You were barely listening to his promo, mesmerized by his soft lips and the way they moved as he spoke. But professionalism came first, and so you motored on, finishing the segment without a hitch.

“And cut! Great job, guys!”

Flustered, you quickly backed away, keeping your distance as the crew dispersed. After a quick parting chat with the director, you then pulled out your phone as you started to leave the area. You had barely taken two steps when Jey appeared in front of you, blocking your path.

“What the fuck was that?”

You made a show of rolling your eyes. “What the fuck was what, Uso?”

“That last part. That wasn’t how your lines were in the script. You was tryna trip me up!” he accused, glaring down at you.

“How? I couldn’t remember a part of it so yeah, I improvised. If you still don’t understand the concept after fourteen years in the business then that’s your problem, not mine.”

“No, my problem is you making me look bad with your bullshit. Stop playin’ with me, woman!” he shouted, pointing all five fingers in your face in that annoying way he did when he was arguing.

The nerve of this motherfucker. “News flash, uce, I don’t need to make you look bad. You do that all by yourself, with ya bra top-wearing, mullet-havin’ ass! This ain’t the eighties, homie.”

Letting out a scoff, he moved just a little closer to you, looking you up and down. “You ain’t have a problem with my mullet when I’m eatin' that pussy, though,” he leered.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. You looked around hastily, hoping no one had caught that. Luckily it seemed to be only the two of you in the vicinity. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” you retorted.

“Takes one to know one, bitch,” he snarled, looming over you, eyes wide and dark and menacing. “Look at you. Walkin’ round here like you own the damn company. You don’t own shit, princess. You’re a wannabe Renee Young, a dime a dozen and you can be replaced like that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

You raised your eyebrows with a smirk. “Ooh, so much anger. Did Roman bitch you out again, huh? That why you so mad? Maybe you’re looking for someone to take out your anger issues on. So go ahead, Jey. Hit me.” You stepped right up to him, getting in his face. “Ain’t that what you want? To punch me in the face? To wrap your hands around my throat and choke me?”

For once in his life, he was speechless. He was stunned by your audacity and you reveled in it. Your smirk darkened. “Then do it. Do it out here where everyone can see you. I know you want to.”

The Tag champ leaned even closer, and for one terrifying second, you thought that he was going to do it. You could see the wheels turning in his head and braced yourself for another verbal assault, or worse.

What happened next, however, came out of left field. He snatched your phone right out of your hands and darted into his locker room, slamming the door shut. For a long moment, you stood there out in the hallway, dumbfounded. And then, the rage took over, sweeping through your body, and you threw the door open, almost breaking off the handle as you charged inside. The room was empty, meaning you could throw hands with zero innocent casualties.

“Gimme back my phone,” you demanded, holding your hand out.

Jey held up the device, dangling it temptingly above him as he backed away. “It’s right here, come get it,” he taunted, yanking it out of reach right as you made a grab for it. “Come on girl, you can do better than that.”

“Jey, give me my goddamn phone!” You lunged again, and he twisted away from you and tossed it blindly over his shoulder. Your heart was almost in your mouth as you watched it barely miss the glass coffee table and land safely on the couch. You glared at him incredulously, your hands clenched into fists. “You are the most childish, immature person I have ever met! You’re infuriating!” you yelled.

“Careful princess, that’s a mighty big word for you,” Jey mocked. The glee in his eyes was almost disturbing.

“You fucking asshole!” You took a swing at him, but he caught your wrist before the blow could connect. In the same move, he shoved you roughly, an audible ‘oof’ expelling from your lungs as your back collided with the wall. Before you could strike again, he seized both your hands and pinned them together above your head with his much larger hand. You struggled against him, your feet and knees a blur, trying to get a shot in. You were no match for his strength, but that would never stop you from trying.

"Let go of me you dickhead...let me go!" You accentuated your demand with a strong tug on your immobilized hands. Your chest heaved angrily as you looked into his eyes. What stared back at you was a mix of fury and lust and need that you had never seen before. The sexual tension crackled in the air between you like electricity.

Uttering a soft growl, Jey dipped his head and kissed you. Hard. His mouth working yours as though he owned it. You bit down on his lip equally hard, drawing blood. Jey jerked back in pain and touched his mouth. If looks could kill, you would both be dead.

“Do that again and you'll regret it,” he snarled.

“Try me, bitch,” you spat, your words cut off by his lips crashing back onto yours. Your teeth scraped briefly right before his tongue slid inside your mouth for an earth-shattering, toe-curling kiss. His large hand seized you by the throat, keeping you pinned to the wall. You moaned into his mouth, mad at him and at yourself for how aroused you were by his aggressiveness. That, along with his tongue darting in and out of your mouth and his groin grinding against your center, made your pussy throb. You arched again with another moan, still pulling on your hands, this time wanting to touch him instead of pushing him away.

"You just love testin' me, don't you," he spat, finally releasing your hands to reach under your short dress. He located the edge of your black thong, and with a swift brutal movement, tore the skimpy lace off your body. He grabbed your thighs and lifted you up effortlessly, slipping his body between your legs. He fumbled briefly with his sweatpants, and you couldn't keep a moan from escaping your lips as he entered you, hard. Speechless, eyes dilated, you were certain you were about to combust already. Each press of his hips slammed you spine-first into the wall, but you absorbed it all, processing the pain to pleasure.

“I fucking hate you,” you murmured.

“You hate me, but you love how good I fuck you,” he countered, bending his knees and powering deep into your warm depths, “You hate me, but you in my bed every other night, givin’ me this pussy. So why you lyin', huh?”

His glazed eyes remained on your features as he pumped into you with long, exquisite strokes. A shiver passed through him as your tight little cunt squeezed and moistened around his pumping cock, demanding more of the sinful pleasure he gave you. You threw your head back with a whimpering cry as he started to fuck you harder, the wet smack of your bodies echoing around the spacious locker room. Your arms and legs tensed around him, holding on tight as he punished your pussy without mercy. It was the same salacious cycle. Below-the-belt verbal attacks, prodding and provoking each other until you were fucking each other’s brains out. A unique version of foreplay that never failed to get you or him off.

Pushing off the wall, Jey carried you further into the locker room, still inside you. As he walked, you squirmed out of his arms and pushed him onto the nearby couch, straddling his lap before he could regain his bearings.

"Aht aht, don't fuckin' move," you commanded, grabbing his dick and sliding it back inside you in record time. You both moaned as your walls stretched around his impressive girth. You bounced on it, gasping loudly as you picked up speed. Jey tugged the front of your dress down to cup your exposed breasts, fondling them, pinching your nipples hard. Your pussy rippled in response and you started to grind on him, working your clit against the base of his cock and stimulating you to no end.

Jey’s hands found your hips, watching your slick flesh slide over his own in an enticing rhythm. Teasing your right nipple with his tongue, he sucked it into his mouth and reveled in your high pitched moan. “Fuckin’ good pussy,” he breathed, “Fuck me, baby. Ride my dick just like that.”

Too turned on to reply, you settled for kissing him passionately, your fingernails raking his heaving chest. He moaned against your lips, his large hands patrolling your back and your ass. Tucking your face into his neck, you gripped the armrest for leverage and rode him harder, your ass slapping loudly against his lap as you dropped your pussy aggressively on his hard length.

“Oh my god,” Jey groaned, feeling his orgasm creep closer. Your mouth wreaked havoc on his neck, your inner muscles clenched around him with each downward motion you made, causing him to grunt and jerk his hips up into you. His hand then scraped downwards to your ass, holding you in place as he started to thrust up into you from his seated position, taking back control. Your moans and his grunts got louder, the heat ratcheted up, ever closer to what was sure to be a mind-blowing climax.

“You comin’ for me, baby?” he hissed, slapping your ass and tugging your hair, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I can feel you, tell Daddy that you’re comin’.”

“Fuck! I'm comin', I'm comin'!” you whimpered, your eyes in the back of your head. You tried to move again, wanting to regain the upper hand, but his grip was too strong, holding you hostage as he thrust deeper, right up against your g-spot. "Fuck, Jey!"

"C'mon," he rasped, teetering on the brink.

The orgasm that tore through you left you gasping for air, riddling your body with tremors. Your pussy squeezed his dick so hard that it triggered his own release. His other hand shot down, gripping your ass cheek as he emptied his load with a breathless groan.

Weak and boneless, you collapsed on his chest with a deep sigh. Jey enveloped your prone frame in a hug and you both stayed silent for a few minutes, waiting for your hearts to stop pounding. When your breathing was back to normal, he guided your face to his and kissed you, his lips sweeping gently over yours. This took you by surprise. You never kissed after sex. But you embraced it, embraced the surprisingly tender gesture that made your bones melt. You gasped softly, your heart raced as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth and then sucked it back into his mouth, his lips caressing yours in teasing strokes.

"I still hate you," you said, your voice soft and small despite the harsh declaration.

Jey chuckled, nuzzling the curve of your neck and dropping a soft kiss there. “I know. I hate you too,” he murmured, sliding his lips northwards until they met yours again.

“I fucking knew it.”

The new voice spun you around, the horror visible on your features. Roman Reigns stood across the room, wearing the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. You’ve never moved so fast in your life, scrambling off of Jey and hurrying to fix your dress.

“You didn’t lock the damn door?” you hissed at him.

“What? You came in after me!” he squeaked, pulling his pants back up.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! I’m so sick of your shit!” Snatching your phone off the couch, you scampered out of the locker room, not daring to make eye contact with Roman as you passed him. How fucking embarrassing, getting caught in 4k like this. You knew you should have been more careful, but it was much easier to put the blame on that ass Jey Uso. He couldn't do anything right, anyway!

Annoying ass punk. Dude was lucky he could fuck.

———-------

All alone in the bowels of his cousin's tour bus, Jey watched you chop it up with Kayla Braxton and special guest Cody Rhodes on the latest livestream of The Bump on YouTube. Your work on the show and on other WWE platforms, aided by your magnetic personality and penchant for randomly wearing the merch of your favorite Superstars and legends, earned you millions of admirers from around the world and backstage. It was probably why you thought you were the shit, with your fancy ass Masters Degree and Ivy League training. If only your beloved fans knew what a bitch you really were.

Several months on, he still couldn’t figure out what it was about you that made him so irritated, yet so attracted to you at the same time. When you first met, you were rude to him over a misunderstanding and had an attitude ever since. That encounter ignited a fierce rivalry that scorched earth in the workplace and eventually...shockingly...in the bedroom.

He remembered it like it was yesterday, the first time you kissed him. Or he kissed you. He still wasn’t sure who made the first move, but his life has not been the same since then. Now, everything was a competition between you, behind the scenes and between the sheets; every kiss, every time you tumbled into bed together, his desire matching yours step by step, daring each other to keep up with the other. Sex with you entailed getting pushed beyond his limits, with you doing things you knew would piss him off such as scratching the hell out of him, biting, and/or fighting him. You had a potty mouth and a mean streak a mile wide, and honestly, that shit turned him on. Yes, some of your verbal jabs cut deep, but he realized, quite morbidly, he would gladly endure them if it guaranteed he would be left weak-limbed, drained and satisfied when you were through with him. And he was. All the time. He hated how much he craved you, and to know that the feeling was mutual made his days that much more exciting.

“So, how long have y’all been fucking?”

Roman came into his view, a trademark smirk on his face as he leaned against the doorframe. Twenty-four hours had passed since the Tribal Chief’s…discovery…in his locker room, and he hadn't said a word about it. Until now. Exhaling heavily, Jey grabbed his beer for a long gulp, deciding there was no point in lying. “About six, seven months,” he disclosed.

“Deadass?”

“Uh huh.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off the TV. He noticed how close Cody sat next to you, noted the way you entertained his little flirty gestures. It was public knowledge that Rhodes was down for the swirl. For all he cared, you were probably fucking him too, and for some reason that irked his soul.

Roman joined his cousin in the lounge area. “I always knew you'd either end up killing each other or fucking each other. It makes so much sense now. The tension between y’all was giving sexual vibes more than anything.” The Undisputed Champ smiled and shook his head. "So when you gon’ tell her you have feelings for her?"

Jey nearly choked on his beer. "The fuck?! What feelings? We hate each other! We always have!"

Bullshit. He had seen the way Jey looked at you yesterday and it definitely was not with hatred. He wondered how he had ever missed it. “Right. Humor me then. Why do you hate her? Do you even know?”

“Easy. She’s a bitch.”

“That’s Jey-speak for she’s pretty as fuck,” Roman dismissed.

Jey’s lip curled with disgust. “She’s obnoxious!”

“A.K.A. I like how she don’t take shit from nobody, especially my sorry ass.”

“She thinks she’s so much better than everybody else,” Jey argued.

“That’s Jey-speak for she's too classy for my country, ghetto ass.” Roman chuckled heartily. His boy was down bad. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d have been shocked. Remember Kendra Jones from high school?” When Jey averted his eyes, he pushed on, determined to make his point. “Yeah, I remember. Your punk ass teased her for months and it turned out you were crushing on her the whole time. This is exactly how you were, all flustered like this. You a grown ass man now, Jey. Quit playin' games and tell that girl you’re in love with her.”

Oh, hell fucking no. “I am not in love, stop puttin' shit in my head!”

Roman shook his head. “For real though, you two are weird. You ‘hate’ each other yet you’re sleeping together. That’s some toxic shit.”

"Ay yo, mind your damn business Uce. I won’t tell you again," Jey spat, getting agitated.

"It became my business when y'all fucked in my locker room!"

"Look, I’m sorry about that, a'ight? It was in the heat of the moment."

“I’m sure it was,” the Tribal Chief smirked.

“Whatever, dude.” No longer in a talking mood, he stood up and headed for the sleeping area.

“By the way, you should do somethin' 'bout that hickey on your neck!” Roman called out.

Ignoring him, Jey shut the door and climbed into his bed, weary and conflicted. His thoughts kept returning to you, and he hated it. His cousin was dead wrong. Everything he said about you was true.

So why couldn't he stop thinking about you? Why did he always dream about you whenever he fell asleep?

Forcing his eyes shut, he tried to block you out of his mind as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

At the same moment, as you lay in your own bed, you were staring up at the ceiling, imagining what Jey might be doing, and wondering why the fuck you cared.

Because you’ve caught feelings, girl…

Panic set in, and you shook your head adamantly. "No, no I’ve not. He don’t even like me,” you said aloud to yourself, in the emptiness of your hotel room. “This has to stop. I have to stop sleeping with him. It’s not healthy for either of us."

Yet, all you can think about is his eyes…and his mouth…and the way it feels when he touches you…

You sighed and tried to go to sleep, hoping your dreams would not be invaded yet again by the one man in the world you detested the most.

In your dream, you and Jey were a big happy family, living in a big beautiful house in a lovely suburban neighborhood. Your baby daughter sat on his lap as the three of you enjoyed dinner together.

END OF PART 1

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bisexual-horror-fan · 9 months

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"Not What I Planned." Rusty Nail X AFAB! Reader.

Well hello! It is the amazing and fantastic @eggsandbeer birthday so, so soon! But I am meeting Matt and Skeet tomorrow and my brain is gonna be all on Billy and Stu post that, so you get this now! This is my first time writing Rusty, I watched Joy Ride 2 six times while writing this. I love Riri, she is so fucking awesome and I adored doing this. She has a more personalized version but gave the go ahead to post a reader insert version for you all! So let's go!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.7K (I Know.) Rusty Nail X AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Customer Service Work. Asshole Customers. Murder Mentioned. Drinking. Making Out. Man Handling. Fingering. Masturbation. Blow Job. Cum Eating. Vaginal Sex. Riding. Taunting. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Praise. Pet Names.

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You hate your job, it is exhausting, mentally and physically, a total drain, but you do all you can to not let it get you down. You focus on the little things, good customer interactions, great coworkers and the times you are truly able to get away from your work. It isn’t like it’s what you wanted to do for the rest of your life anyway, far from it, in fact one of those vital lifelines that helps keep you sane is a local news internship, it gives you some good experience for what you hope to actually eventually do with your life along with giving you purpose.

Today is not good, though, off to a less than ideal start. This is decidedly not the way you wanted to spend your birthday. Rolling into the grocery store to do a closing shift, apron in your grip and bag over your shoulder, half-hearted waves to co-workers as you strolled through towards the area you could safely stow away your stuff until you are allowed to clock out. You do just that, drop your stuff in the usual place, get your uniform situated and punch in, ready for another day of God knows what bullshit.

Your mind was at least slightly occupied, where you work is en route to the Burning Man festival which meant that you were busy as fuck with people loading up on supplies before they arrive to their final destination, it kept you busy. As for what kept your brain whirring, your internship had tasked you with writing a piece on the crowd that is rolling through on their way, meaning you are watching and listening intently. It looks like you aren’t from the outside, hands stacking a fruit display, but ears open, all sorts of talk about events the Burners were amped up for, how much further they had to travel, what snacks were the best and would keep in the desert heat.

You did some actual work naturally, finding yourself crouched and cleaning out a stubborn drain, the process thoroughly annoying and honestly degrading, and not in the fun way you usually liked. It was your fucking birthday, for Christ’s sake, you should be indulging in the fun kind of calve burning, not the bent over and unclogging kind. Still, you try to stay in higher spirits and certainly not show it outwardly, if someone squinted hard enough, they might be able to pick up on it.

Later on, you had just finished making a new display, standing back and looking at the gorgeous display of apples you’d spent longer than you cared to mention on, hands on your hips. The first genuine smile that had graced your face since clocking in and wasn’t tinged with a single hint of perfectly practised customer service fakeness. This is one of those moments you felt genuine pride in your work, a glimmer of nicety in all the bullshit.

It lasted for two whole seconds.

A customer’s cart hits you in the hip and wrist simultaneously because of how you were standing, the action both painful and shocking, completely unexpected. It makes you step to the side, grip your wrist with your other hand, the pain is throbbing and dull, it isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever experienced, but it still sucks and should have never happened in the first place. The customer doesn’t apologize. Worse still, they stride forward, pick a single apple from the middle of the display, causing half of it to tumble over. The customer scoffs with a roll of their eyes, they drop the apple into their cart to look around, seeming to notice you just now for the first time, only then acknowledging you. They give a pointed look from you to over their shoulder, a motion of their head as they criticized your work, “Not very sturdy.”

Your mouth falls open, and they tut as they walk away, leaving you dumbfounded with fifteen some odd apples scattered on the ground that you had to clean up and a display you had to rebuild.

Later still, you are sweeping, trying to get these damn onion skins up, but they aren’t moving. You are half focused, conversing with one of the Burners, they are asking for your opinion on what kombucha is best, and you are humouring them and getting a few questions answered along the way.

Throughout all the regular work crap, you’d been having small conversations with people, writing brief notes for your project, and it was nice getting some serious stuff down about it, served as a half decent distraction too.

His initial thought is that it was reminiscent of a zoo, upon greater thought while attempting to park the Peterbilt he decided swiftly that it was worse than that, a fucking circus. He manages to park and decides that getting in and out as fast as possible would be vital to maintaining his sanity. He was aware that Burning man was happening, naturally, but still the place was crowded as all Hell, more than he had been anticipating. Rusty didn’t like large crowds of people, but he needs some supplies, he needs to eat.

It isn’t any better inside.

He is making his way around, hat pulled low, basket in his grip, grabbing a few drinks, some favoured snacks that he knew kept well, he was passing by the produce, almost ready to get the fuck out. He goes into your department, he is grabbing bananas and thinking about getting some of those pre-cut carrot and celery sticks. Rusty is trying to be a tad more health minded, not like it would do much with how much he enjoys a good smoke but better to do something than nothing he supposed.

His train of thought is broken when he hears a loud exclamation of, “I can’t believe how fucking stupid you are!”

Rusty’s head turns, he catches sight of you, standing there, trying to look apologetic as some older lady is verbally ripping into you, “I’m making lemon chicken LEEK stroganoff, right?”

She is looking at you expectantly, your eyes wide, and with that half customer service forced smile you nod and say through gritted teeth, “Right.”

“So tell me, how. Am I. Supposed. To make. Lemon, chicken LEEK stroganoff without LEEKS?” The way she said it was infuriating, the halting, pausing way of it, so condensing, as if you were the cross between an idiot and a child all rolled into one.

“I don’t know, ma’am. I guess you can’t. I’m very sorry.” You admit it reluctantly, knowing she won’t like your response, and she does not. She goes off on you, “Well I’ve had this menu planned for WEEKS, I have company coming tonight! You have to make this right!”

Rusty was listening in, brow pinching, this woman was off her rocker, what a complete bitch. You were trying to calm her, smooth over the situation, and she was being worse and worse to you. No matter what you say, she wouldn’t stop freaking out.

“I really am very sorry. I could call another store nearby and ask if they have any leeks?” You offer up, and she scoffed with a laugh, “So I can make ANOTHER stop? Do you not remember? I am hosting a dinner party tonight, I’m busy! I have other places to go, I can’t be here fighting with you over this all night!”

And yet she was still here, doing just that.

He had turned, wasn’t watching quite as subtly as he was previous. You were doing your best and none of it was measuring up to this crazy, impossible standard that was being set out. He was looking at you, and he could see that you were taking it hard, your customer service face and voice were holding strong, but your eyes? They looked so sad.

You reminded him of a kicked puppy, as the woman finally had enough of being a raging cunt and stormed off. Right after that, someone else in uniform walked by, a manager? And on their way, they said, “Happy birthday.”

You gave a small, “Thanks.” along with half a wave as they strode past. You were not only working on, but getting treated like that, on your birthday?

It got to him, hit him square in the chest, shot to the heart. A sigh and he looks over, he makes a note of the asshole who mistreated you so, he has a little time before they check out before he can go dispose of them in the parking lot for being so unreasonable and rude to you. It might be too far for some people but not for him, people like that, there is no changing them, not at her age, some people don’t deserve to live.

First things, first though, he saunters over to you, a small clearing of his throat before he asks, “Got a date tonight, there a drink you’d recommend?”

You turn towards the low and smooth voice, you have to turn your head up to look at him properly, he was taller than you. The way he was standing, the angle, and how he wore his hat you couldn’t see his face, brim pulled too low, standing a few feet away.

A small inhale and your smile turned more genuine before you reply, “Oh, our Pink Champagne is my favourite. I get that on special occasions.”

Well, how fucking perfect a find were you? Kind, respectful, hardworking, and you have good taste.

“Thank you.” He said it easily with a wave of his hand in acknowledgement and broke away. You watch him go and think to yourself that he is cute, in that particular way that strikes you when an older guy catches your eye just so. The interaction doesn’t stick with you however, you turned and saw more fucking onion skins that needed sweeping up.

Hours later, you finally get off of work, messed up apron in one hand and looking forward to getting the hell home. You had two days off ahead, you were intent on a bath and partaking in some drinks in your fridge with a good record on when you get home. You are walking through the dark and now very empty parking lot, your mind only focused on reaching your car, sliding behind the wheel and getting home as soon as possible, when you hear a voice calling out. Your car keys are in one hand, the keys between your fingers, sticking out and ready to punch a would be attacking if you need to.

Hearing the voice makes you put your head on a swivel, initially scared, you look and then see it is that older gentlemen you helped out earlier. You pause, and he comes a little closer, again in the dark and with that hat you can’t make out much except for the orange glow of the end of his cigarette, partially illuminating the lower half of his face. He calls out your name, following it with a question of, "-right?”

“Hi, yeah it is.” You were still sightly on edge until he is holding up the very same bottle you suggested earlier, “Wanted to say thank you for your recommendation, properly.”

Your brows raise up, you saw him in the store hours ago, meaning he should in theory be long gone, and you ask, “I thought you had a date?”

“I do. I was just waitin’ for her to get off work.” Even though you couldn’t see it fully, you could hear the smile in his tone, and it makes one spread to your own face. “Oh, my apologies, I didn’t realize that was you asking me out.”

The tone you said it in was very light, and he seemed equally amused, “Sorry bout that, terrible manners on my part, truly.”

There is a beat of silence, and you say, “I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.”

“So you’d be willing to join me?” He asks, you nod, you felt endeared to him very quickly, the confidence he displayed, the boldness, you were charmed and figured why not? You had the time tonight, nothing wrong with enjoying a birthday drink bought by a courteous man.

“Where are we going to go?” You ask, and he gestured over to the large shiny black Piterbilt towards the back of the lot. “Was thinking my truck, if that’s alright with you?”

When he asks in that delicious tone of voice, you think that yes, it is very alright with you. “Lead the way.” You prompt, and he does, you fall into step beside him, apron is thrown over your shoulder, and you asked, “So you’re a truck driver?”

“How’d you ever guess?” He asked on an exhalation of his cigarette with a glance over to you. Now you can catch the half smirk on his face, unable to make out his eyes completely, but it didn’t bother you, honestly you kind of dug the mysterious kind of thing, not even fully knowing what he looked like. If anything that communicated how into him, you were, hadn’t even seen his whole face but his voice and how he carried himself was more than enough to convince you to this odd kind of unexpected date.

“I’m real intuitive. Call it a gift.” You mused, and he liked you, even in how you joked, there was no real meanness to it, could tell that it was all in fun and that inherent niceness shone through. “Giving me gifts when it’s your birthday? Isn’t that what M’ supposed to be doing?”

That gives you some slight pause, how in the fuck did he know that it was your birthday? Before any serious question could be made, you were next to his truck on the passenger side. You look it over and say honestly, “Nice truck.”

“Thanks, do my best to take real good care of it, s’ seen some rough times.” You look a little closer, scrutinizing, if it had, you couldn’t tell, the thing looked clean and not a scratch on it. You turn and lean against it, you realize he had gotten some cups that were also sold at your work, he holds them out, “Mind holding these while I open this?”

You nod and take them out of his outstretched hand and watch as the last remainder of his cigarette was dropped and ground under the heel of his boot. He uncorks the bottle with ease, doesn’t spill any or cause it to overflow, which mildly impresses, you hold out the cups and he fills them. The bottle is set aside on the ground and after passing him his cup he asked “Any words to share?”

“Here’s to the weekend?” You offered up after a moment’s thought, and he said, “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks yours and his cups together, and you take a sip of the sweet and familiar fizzy alcoholic drink.

“Seriously the shift I had today was rough, so this is really nice, thank you-” Then you realize you don’t know his name, he clearly picks up on this and says, “Name’s Rusty. Rusty Nail.”

Immediately you figure it must be his CB handle, you wonder if Rusty is his real name, but also you don’t think it matters much, you don’t press, “Well thank you, Rusty, really.”

“S’ my pleasure. Heard how that woman was going off on you earlier, some people can be so rude.” Is that what prompted this? The total bitch who was freaking over leeks? If so, you think that maybe her being such a raging cunt wasn’t such a bad thing if it led to this.

Little did you know that Rusty had taken care of her, she was currently stuffed in the trunk of her own car, way, way on the other side of the lot, body long since gone cold.

The conversation then turned to you both complaining about a shared distaste for rude and unreasonable people, he let you vent about your day and previous horrible customers at your job. As the conversation went on, you find yourself enjoying his company more and more. You also find yourself standing closer to him, half the bottle gone, he’s had another smoke, and you are leaning on him much more than the truck, he doesn’t mind, you sigh to him, “I cannot believe the crap you have to put up with, it’s so unfair!”

“Some people have some really unsavoury and outdated views on people in my line of work.” He admits with a nod, and from what he’d shared it seemed like. There are people who say the meanest shit, make horrible assumptions, treat him like dirt or worse, a feeling you know all too well at your own job. You relate to Rusty.

You’d been talking for an hour, and it was even later, darker, and a shiver unexpectedly ran up your spine, “You cold?”

You were a little, you were in a t-shirt and after standing in one spot for so long this late the chill had somehow set in. “Yeah, surprisingly I am a bit.”

Then he made an interesting offer. “You want to get in my truck, warm up?”

You think you really did want that. “Yeah, that’d be great, actually.”

He moved back then and so did you, he opened the door for you, and you looked up, Christ it was big, how were you supposed to get in while in your slightly buzzed state without looking like a total clown? You feel him against your back, he asks, “Need some help?”

You nod, unsure of what he means or how he is going to help but trusting him all the same, it’s then that you feel his hands on you. He turns you, and then those same hands find your waist with ease and grip. He lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you realize to him, you probably do, as he helps hoist you into the passenger side of the truck. Rusty sits you on your ass in the seat and your face feels much hotter, he just scooped you up and set you down so fast, one simple and fluid motion as he stepped one foot up on the running board, and then there you were. You are side-saddle, legs dangling down and far off of the ground. His hands leave you quicker than you’d like, sliding off your waist and stepping back down. You are a bit dazed, his hand touches your ankle, and you jump, he laughs at your surprised, “What?”

“You wanna get your legs in, so I can close the door?” You nod and do so, swinging your legs in, and he shuts the door. Your hand, that had been clutching your bag and apron, dropped them on the floor by your feet. You look down into your cup, you hadn’t spilled any even when he picked you up, the cup is raised, you tip it back and swallow down the remainder. A sigh and you pull the cup back, hand still clutching it, comes to rest on your thigh as your thumb on your opposite hand swipes a stray drop from the corner of your mouth. He had come around to the other side, he has the door open and is sliding in beside you into the driver's seat, he’d picked up the bottle on the way, and you were contemplating asking for more.

As if reading your mind he gestures for your cup, you lean over, holding it out, and he pours you some more, you asked him, “So before, you were talking about all the bad stuff about truck driving, but what about the stuff you do like?”

The question seems to surprise him if his tone is any indication, “The stuff I do like?”

He has pulled the bottle back, he isn’t pouring more for himself, you respond to his question with another of your own, “Yeah, what makes the job worth it? Other than the money.”

Rusty considers the question for a moment before he says, “I like seein’ the country, like being by myself most of the time but most of all? Probably seems obvious, but the freedom of it.”

You nodded, it made sense and asked, “Can go anywhere, do anything?”

“S’actly.”

The silence is as surprisingly comfortable as the passenger seat of this truck is. The thought hits, and you say it without thinking, “I dunno how you do it.”

“What? Truck drivin’?” He asks, and you say with a turn to him, “Yeah! Like, the actual driving it.”

He laughs, and you press on, one hand holding your cup and the other making like you are gripping a steering wheel that was comically large, pretending to turn it, “Seriously! This thing is massive, it’s a beast! How can you control it?”

“Ain’t that hard really, just gotta be the right mix of careful and confident.” He assures, and you laugh, “You make it sound so easy, I’ve never driven anything this big, that-” You point out the window to your much less impressive ride, “-is my car over there.”

“Yeah, don’t quite measure up, does it?” He teases and you grin, “Nope. But I don’t think I could drive anything like this.”

“I think you could.” A small pause before he asks the big question, “Wanna try?”

You nearly choke on your sip and pull the cup back, wiping at your mouth, “What? Me? Drive the behemoth? You want to write it off that bad, Rusty?”

“You cannot be that bad a driver.” He scoffs.

“Rusty, you barely know me, I dunno-” He insists, “C’mon, I’ll help.”

“Help?”

You were curious enough to allow it to happen, you’d not counted on his idea of help being putting you in his lap. He’d moved the seat back enough and encouraged you to climb on, emboldened by both the drink and his encouragement, you slide on into the space he made. He moves the seat forward enough to do the pedals, and he places your hands on the wheel, his hands covering yours. “You sure this is a good idea?”

Nerves were setting in, you’d been drinking, not a lot but also all the close contact with him was getting to you, his attractiveness was apparent during your brief meeting earlier but now that you'd’ been getting to know him? He was becoming even more appealing, being sat in his lap, your back to his chest, his hands on yours, you felt flustered. Sounded by him in both touch and scent, it could be enough to make your head swim if you let it. In your current position, his voice is over your shoulder, “Positive. You’ll be fine.”

The tone of voice he says it in, the conviction, he makes you believe it.

One of his hands leaves yours briefly to start her up, the truck rumbles to life, and it makes you jump slightly, Christ it was loud and is vibrating like all Hell. “We’ll just do a lil’ loop, alright? M’ doing the pedals, you just steer her real easy.”

He had to speak louder to be heard over the hum of the truck, and you pitch your own volume up to be heard, “Yeah, real easy, can do.”

His foot comes down slowly, and he eases it forward, you grip the wheel tightly and let him lead. He talks you through the process, and it helps, you focus your eyes forward and your ears on listening to his smooth voice praising you, “Uh-huh, around the pole, use it as a guide.” You swallowed and nodded, brows knit together as he keeps talking, “Oh good job, see? You’re doing it.”

His hands squeeze yours reassuringly, your mouth feels dry, you nod and say quieter than you should, “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, you’re doing most of the work.” You feel that isn’t truthful but again, he talks, you believe.

“Almost all the way around, a little further-” Both his hands leave yours, sliding down your arms and choosing to come to rest on your waist again, letting you fully be in control. It makes you tense, rushing out, “Rusty, wait-”

Another flex of his hands, another show of comfort, he says easily, drawling out, “Calm down, you’re doing it all yourself.”

You aren’t fully convinced until you’ve made the full loop, and he lets off the gas, he turns off the car and your shoulders slump, what he says next, makes you melt, “I told you. You’re perfect.”

That does something, makes a particular part of you break, or is it wake up? Either way, a certain section of you, somewhere aside, comes alive, and instead of wanting to run from it, you chose to grab onto the live wire of sensation with both hands. The truck has stopped, but you keep moving, the urge overcomes, and you turn in your seat and in his lap, one hand comes up, meets his cheek, feeling the rough stubble. He’d already gotten you the champagne, but you think you want more still, and you ask, “Can I be selfish?”

“S’ your birthday, be as selfish as you want to.” You take that is more than enough of an invitation. You lean up and in, push the brim of his hat up enough to give yourself the appropriate access, and you kiss him.

He had a feeling it was going this way, but thinking and experiencing are two different things. You choosing to take the lead was better than he could have been hoping for, though. Your mouth was so fucking soft, you felt warm, he tried to take it easy, but this is the kind of thing he can’t help getting swept up in. Chances like this don’t come around often, the urge to rush is present, he manages to ignore it, preferring to savour it, or rather, savour you. He lets himself relax further into the seat, returning your affection immediately.

The scratch of his facial hair against your skin feels better than you’d hoped it would, you let out a soft exhale, a sound on the precipice of a moan while still falling just short. His hands are still on your waist, he nudges you closer, you lean in more, your head tilts, his lips part, and he tastes more like cigarettes than he does the champagne, but it’s there. Your tongue makes the first exploration and sticky sweet fruit is unearthed from below smoke and ash.

One of his hands slides down, a brief pass over your thigh, and you wonder where it’s going, you realize in short order when the seat you are both on moves back, giving you more space, making it, so you aren’t quite as locked up against the steering wheel. Heat is sparking inside, your hand moves from his face, slipping to rest on his neck, your other hand comes up to his shoulder, fingers grip the jacket he has on and the want becomes too much. You grind down on him.

The shifting and adjusting allows you to feel how hard he was growing, a harsher inhale, and you begin to scramble, you want more contact, you move to be fully straddling him, no more twisting partially around like you currently were. You are seated just right soon enough, ass firmly planted, and you think fleetingly God he had some solid thighs, strong, you felt very well-supported.

The making out was only paused briefly while you changed position, you’d gotten right back into it, your mouth slotting back against his with a hum that sounded like his name. You grind again and this time he returns it, rutting up into you, and the friction makes you actually moan this time. The taste, the feeling, and two minutes more of making out is all it takes for you to break, pulling back once his touch had gotten bolder, one having slid up your body, palming one of your tits through your work shirt easily with how large his hands were. You arch into him, breaking the kiss you beg, “Fuck, Rusty, more.”

You are close enough now that you can see his smile as opposed to just hear it, his hand moves and starts to go under your shirt, rough fingers on bare skin and steadily moving up, brushing the edge of your bra. Not quite a laugh but more than an amused releasing of air, he asks, “More?”

A frantic nod, another squirm of your hips and he asks, “How much more? C’mon, tell me.”

He wants you to say it and you want it desperately enough that it’s no issue, far from it, if anything him making you say it, makes you want it more, makes you feel hotter. “Fuck me?”

“I like your directness.” Thank God for that. “Just have a lil more patience with me, alright?”

When he asks in that tone, you think you’d do just about anything. A small nod and he needs to get his fill of you just a hair more. Hands explore, groping, feeling, it teases both of you, trying to get a sense of your body before the clothes come off, mind running over just how you’ll feel with nothing in the way. You remain good, you let him feel, minimal squirming on your part, even when he starts kissing your neck as the hand that isn’t up your shirt kneads your ass. Only when you feel your underwear literally plastered to you and your cunt ache incessantly do you whine his name again.

He mercifully acquiesces, “Okay, okay, I hear you.”

He eases up, a gesture of his head for you to move to the passenger's seat, “Gonna need you out of those clothes for what you really want.”

You rush to comply. Once in the passenger's seat, sitting sideways, still facing him, looking at him, your hands catch the bottom hem of your shirt and as if anticipating that you intended to frantically tear it off, he stops you. One hand out and that sweet but firm tone, commanding, "Do it slowly."

Your face feels hot, and you do as instructed, slowing your movements right down, pulling the shirt up, exposing your stomach and then your bra. Higher and higher until you have taken it off, tossing it in the direction of your bag and apron. Next you have your thumbs hooked in the waist of your pants, arching your hips you start to slide them down, you watch him, try to gauge his reaction, but it’s hard in the low lighting. He gives a nod to show he’s pleased so far, encouraging you verbally too, “Go on.”

Shoes removed, pants follow, soon you are in just your underwear, and he speaks, a small gesture of your body, up and down, “S’ a good start but keep going.”

You reach behind yourself, start to unhook your bra, and he is still talking, “Dying to see the rest.”

You swear you can feel his eyes raking over every exposed inch of your skin. A small thought strikes, you follow it, slipping your arms out of the straps but holding the cups to your chest, an indulgent smile, a rise of your eyebrows, and he clicks his tongue, you play dumb and ask, “What?”

“You’re being a tease.” He states, and you ask in a tone of mock innocence, “Am I?”

He says more seriously. “Drop it.”

Unsure if he means your bra or the act, you chose to abandon both. You let the padded fabric slip out of your hands, a spread of your legs, you wonder if he can tell how wet you are from here. He moves too now, you weren’t expecting it, he falls to his knees in the space between your seat and his. Hands come to your hips and the sudden contact makes you jerk with a sharp inhale. His mouth catches yours in another kiss, you return it and moan, his mouth doesn’t stay on yours for long, trails down, jaw and neck, one on your shoulder and lower.

He is confident, he’s taking what he wants and you more than let him, you enjoy every rough scrape of his well worked hands, pass of his lips and nip of his teeth. His warm breath fanning over your chest is welcome, one hand has moved again, over your hip and now on your inner thigh, his thumb is close enough, and he runs it up you, swipes up your clothed slit. You sigh, eyes falling closed, relishing the contact, you are sure now he can feel how wet you are. He runs it back down and then up again, a press just right, and you moan between the friction on your clit and his mouth now on your chest.

He found it so easily and judging by the smile you can feel against the curve of your breast, he is just as pleased. Rusty abandons the current pleasant task, fingers hooking in your underwear, “I got a feelin’ it’d be a fight to get these off you too, an’ I just can’t wait.”

You couldn’t either, not anymore.

Assisting with a move of your ass up, he gets them off, and now you are naked in his semi-truck. You want to jump him, but he is holding you down by your thighs, taking in the view of you unobstructed, totally bare. “Fucking gorgeous.”

A hand reaches out, catches his jacket, and you tug as you tell him, “I feel really exposed right now, you wanna lose some of these?”

“S’ only fair.” He agrees, he removes his jacket and asks, “Wanna give me a little show while I fix myself?”

It is a request, but you take it like it’s an order. Hand between your spread legs, fingers trace up, catching ample wetness and spreading it up, circling sensitive tissue, making your thighs tense and a small moan fall from your lips. “There you go.”

The praise helps, you increase the pressure, and he hums in approval. Shirt is gone, belt is opened more and more revealed until he is in a similar state of undress. The view of him stripping all for you is insanely helpful. Pleasure is filling you easily and once he is ready he asks, “You mind if I-?”

“However you want me, please.” It leaves you needy and breathless. He steps in, he moves your hands away from yourself, and starts to adjust you to his liking. You like it, you think he can be rougher honestly, you are put on your knees, facing the passenger window, a hand on your back, adjusting you more, hips tilted up, and you feel him against you. The bump of his shaft between your thighs and over your clit is already very good. “Ready, yeah?”

A shaky nod, “Please Rusty-”

The one word and his name is all you are able to get out before he is lining up just right, you hold your breath in anticipation, he spits into his own hand, strokes himself, the extra lube as courtesy is appreciated. He slides in, and you let out a gasp, he doesn’t do it easily, taking you in one firm stroke, hand on your hips as his come to rest against your ass. He revels in you, the tight, soaked heat of you, his head tips back slightly as he soaks it before he starts to move. Pulling out halfway before driving forward, your hands scrabble for the window’s edge, you hold onto it like a lifeline as you gear up for what is already promising to be the ride of a lifetime.

His thrusting is firm, just like him, steady and sure, a good and even pace. It leaves breathless, not caring about being overheard, not like anyone could in the empty parking lot. A heavy breath from him, “Fucks sake, you’re soaked.”

You were moaning, incoherent pleas, along with his name, you were more than warmed up, each drag of his thick shaft in and out increasing the feeling. Fingers dig into the meat of your hips, he pulls you back as he drives forward, and you move too, rocking backwards to meet him. “Tight as Hell, can barely fit myself in here.”

“Keep talking, never, ever stop talking.” Is the one thought in your brain as you moan dumbly. You aren’t thinking much, unable, but you are feeling. Rusty was so kind to you, was totally turning your birthday around, making you feel incredible, spoiling you, and you want to do the same. His hands are roaming and that won’t do, you need to stop him before you are fucked into total submission and wrecked. Another minute, just another minute, you tell yourself, eyes are half open and brain hazy. The glass is so fogged up you can’t see out of it, could write your name but if he asked you doubted your hands would be steady enough. Could you even spell your name right now with what he was doing to you?

Finally, you reach back, hands on his hips, “Ru-Rusty, please, stop-”

“Something the matter?” He asked, holding deep, all the way to the hilt inside you. His hands smooth up your sides, fingers trace the curves of your chest before coming back down again, and you shiver, clenching on his shaft.

“Gotta, fuck, do something. Pull out?” He listens, he does so, “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

The pet names, fucking Christ the pet names, you are forcing yourself to move. It happens quickly. You turn, and then you push him, so his back is against the seat of the driver's side. He takes the hint, sits up on the seat sideways, and then you are the one on your knees. Between his spread thighs, you lean down, a hand locks around the base of his shaft and you lick. He lets out a surprised groan, soft and sounding too good. You start to blow him in earnest, careful of your gag reflex as you work. Your hand slips up and down his slick shaft as you suck on the head, his hand comes down to your head, fingers twist in your hair, “Like tasting yourself?”

A nod as you moan against him, tongue swirls around the tip, and he watches enraptured, his hips buck slightly, and you gag almost immediately. He inhales through his teeth, “Sorry there.”

You brush him off, a gesture that it is fine, as you redouble your efforts. He seems to be enjoying it immensely, he is encouraging you further but soon asks, “Can you handle some more?”

For him, you want to try. You nod, and he guides you, does it slowly and easily, “Breathe through it-”

You do and the pace, his voice, it somehow works, and you’re able to take him deeper, “Pretty birthday girl. Takin’ it so well.”

All you wanted to do was please him, you continue the work for only a minute more, however because then he tells you, “I want you back up here.”

You jump at the chance. Same as before, you climb up him and straddle him, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see where this is going. “You didn’t have to do that.” He comments, and you have your hands on his biceps, currently sucking a hickey into his neck and teasing your dripping hole with the tip of his dick, “I know. I wanted to.”

“Could tell you were into it. You always wanna taste yourself like that?”

“Not always but it is-” You move your hips down, start to slide him inside with a moan, once he is buried inside of you again you finish the thought, “-a favourite.”

“Dirty girl.” He coos it like a compliment, and it hits you just like one, too. You start to ride, his hands on you help along with upward rocks of his hips. You bite and suck along his throat in between broken moans, the salt of his skin is a tad too addicting, as is the stretch of him inside and the way he brushes all the right spots inside of you at this angle.

Apparently it still isn’t good enough for him.

He tugs you closer, presses you so that way your clit is getting friction and ground with every thrust and bounce, your moans increase in volume in pitch along with the sensation. You had no clue this is how your day would shake out, if you did, maybe your shift would have been more bearable.

His hands are on your back, holding you close, fucking up into you as you are slamming down, and on a particularly good hit you are gasping. For two people fucking for the first time and relative strangers, you’d found a frighteningly good rhythm. Your body is moving on instinct, just chasing what feels good but still, thoughtlessly tinged with doing your best to please him, thankful for the moment that what seems to be getting him off is feeling incredible for you. It isn’t quite enough, though, and he seems to pick up on that.

“Lean back.” His voice snaps you out of your pleasure induced stupor, and you nod, separating yourself from him, the one point of contact still remaining your ass on his thighs and him stuffed deep inside. He directs you further, his hands help, and you find yourself with one hand on his knee, the other braced on the roof of the truck, feet on the seat on either side of him and with a confident nod you start moving again.

It’s good, you are able to hit spots inside yourself that are even deeper, using all your leg muscles as well as your hands it becomes more of a full body effort, minute adjustments can be made so too much strain is never on one part of your sweat slick frame. Soon as you are just right in the groove of it, he surprises you, why he wanted the change in position becomes all too clear. His hand is between your bodies and his thumb presses down, swirling over your clit, and it makes your pace falter, “Oh my fucking God-”

“Don’t stop now.” The way he says it makes a shiver run up your spine and again makes you clench down on him. He says it in the dominant tone of voice, but it’s light, that smug fucking half grin on his face, unable to tear his eyes away from your body. You shake your head, choking out, “Wo-won’t stop.”

“No, course you won’t, you’re so good at listening.” The praise washes over you with another sharp jolt of ecstasy. His hand that wasn’t working your nerves into a frenzy was on your thigh, sliding up, gripping your hip, “This workin’ for you?”

Fuck, was it ever. You nod frantically, focusing on breathing and not stopping riding him, but in short order, your movements were getting increasingly sloppy. It was like he didn’t have to ask, didn’t rush it, just let you work it out and helped carry you along. You were getting dangerously close, the edge creeping up at a blinding pace, everything you’d experienced so far this night was piling up and threatening to make you break apart at the seams. There were no real words, just hurried breathing and pitched moans, head back, nails digging into the fabric of the truck cab’s roof, the sound of skin on skin and his encouragement.

A soft call of your name, his hips moving up, grinding into you as his hand works and him asking in a mind meltingly hot tone, “I wanna see it, give it to me.”

And something about that, whether it is what he said or how he said it, causes the reaction inside to finally make it happen, like it clicks into place just right, and you go from a weak and barely audible strained whisper of, “I’m almost there!” To holy fucking shit, I’m, “-cumming!”

Riding as much became not an option, legs almost giving out, but he takes over, grip on your hip is bruising, hip strength impressive, and he drives up into you over and over. Your hand isn’t able to stay on the roof, caught midair, body tense as your climax rockets through your body, you think your hand on his knee might be drawing blood with your nails, but you can’t stop it nor can you care.

You jerk as it peaks, and he slips out, his fingers don’t stop until you are crying out and pushing him away, still trembling through the aftershocks. Your eyes were closed, you were panting and not even remotely down from his high when you feel the hot splatter on your tits and stomach with your name staining his tongue. Peaking back open, you see him, hand around himself, and he’d cum all over your torso. The pretty pearly white is sliding down, and his own breathing is very laboured. Your hand trails down, still shaky, skating through the mess he left, and then you're bringing those same fingers back up to taste him.

Your body relaxes against him, you get into a more comfortable position, and after you stop shuddering so much you are telling him, “That was pretty fucking great.”

“Oh, are you all done?” He asked as he looks up at you, hands are resting lazily on your thighs, tracing patterns absentmindedly. “I mean I thought we were but are we not?”

“We don’t gotta be. I’m in no rush.” The thought of that is extremely pleasant.

“Another drink till you’re ready to go again, old man?” You asked with a smile, and he laughs as he reaches over to where the bottle was left on the floor of his side of the truck. Thankfully it hadn’t been knocked over, “You get that one and only cuz you were so good.”

“Only one old man joke or one joke overall? Because I was gonna make one hoping that you aren’t passingly along tetanus to me Rusty, but if you’re planning to be a buzzkill-” He shuts you up with a hand on the back of your neck and a kiss that you end up humming into. Yeah, you think this has been a pretty solid birthday.

#Rusty Nail x reader #slasher x reader #BHF writing #HAPPY BIRTHDAY RIRI #MWAH #LOVE YA #ENJOY

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