𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ tucker never thought he’d get here, but he loved living life with you, so why not make it for forever?
warning/contains. swearing
pairing. tucker pillsbury x fem!reader
was heavily inspired by claudia and finneas’ engagement :) enjoy!!!
Tucker stood in the ring shop, arms resting on the countertop as he looked over the rings placed in front of him. It had been on his mind recently, and Tucker couldn’t shake it from him. Marriage. He glanced at his phone as he did so, a picture of a ring he had gifted you years ago- one you loved so much and never took off. As he did so, he heard his voice singing in the background of the shop, he hoped nobody would say they saw him here. The surprise couldn’t get ruined, he was for once confident in keeping a secret, if someone ruined it he’d combust.
“Anything match what you’d want to get her?” The elder lady asked, walking over to him and at the counter. “She wants this cut, she said it’s her favorite. I don’t know if I should get a simple band or one with other gems.” He said, resting his chin on his palm. The lady smiled sweetly, “Can I see a picture of her?” She asked, making him smile at the question.
Of course he’d show her, he’d show you to anyone who asked, or didn’t ask, you were the most beautiful girl and he was lucky to be yours. Tucker zoomed out of the picture of you smiling at the camera, on vacation with him and standing in a bathing suit cover, the sun lighting up your eyes.
The lady looked over the picture, looking at the rings. “I think she needs just a simple band, she’s one in a million, I can tell. She needs an individual gem that shines like she does.” The lady said, making all the air in Tucker’s lungs escape from him.
“Yeah-yeah you’re right.” He said softly, smiling and nodding. The lady read you like a book, she took the bands with other gems and put them away, leaving him with an arrangement. His eyes flickered over one over and over, the lady noticed and took away the other rings. He chuckled when the one he had been staring at lingered in front of him.
It was so you, sparkly, beautiful, eye-catching. Everything.
And so he bought it, waited the extra hour as it got adjusted and properly fit. It sat in a ring box in your favorite color, and sat in his palm on the way home.
When he came home, and saw you were too, he panicked. “Fuck.” He whispered, looking around his car for anything to hide the box in. He sighed in relief when he saw a hoodie of his in the back, grabbing it and stuffing the box in it. He carried the hoodie inside and saw you at the couch, distracted with a work call. He walked over and kissed your head, making you blush as your boss could see, they laughed and waved at him through the zoom call before continuing to talk about the project you guys were working on.
Tucker escaped to your shared room, looking around for anywhere he could hide the box. However everywhere he looked was a place you’d rummaged through. He opened the closet door and saw his shoeboxes, putting it in a box that his winter boots sat in. You wouldn’t look there. He huffed out the last of his tension, standing in the closet space.
“How was the session?” You asked, making him jump and turn to you. You jumped also, “What was that for?” You asked, putting a hand to your heart before laughing. He laughed also, walking over and leaning down to kiss you, “Just didn’t hear you come up. Session went well, went over a song or two about you.” He murmured, placing another kiss on your lips. You smiled against his lips, “I’m flattered.” You said softly, he chuckled and hugged you. “Want some lunch?” He asked, walking out of the closet with you, arms around you still.
And so he made lunch for you both, pouring you another coffee as he did so, listening to you talk about your job and the upcoming projects you were making. Tucker placed your food in front of you, and smiled as you paused to thank him before getting more into your rant. He leaned back against the counter, watching you with a fond smile as your words blurred into one, thinking about how perfect that lady had described you.
Mid rant, you paused and raised an eyebrow, “What are you so smiley about? Dork.” You said, grinning at him. He shook his head, “Just how much I love you.” He said, grabbing your hand and kissing over the ring that was now several years old. You were skeptical, he nearly shit himself. But he relaxed when you pushed his seat beside you, patting it.
You two sat there, talking and eating until your phone rang again and this time your next call took place sitting in your backyard in the sun while he played the guitar softly nearby, the tune of the song he wrote about you. You hung up the phone and soaked up the sun, “We should get a dog.” You said, and Tucker looked at you with furrowed brows. You didn’t move, just sat there with your arms under your head as you turned your face up to the sky. Tucker let out a small confused laugh, “Why?” He asked, he got up and placed the guitar inside before walking to you.
He leaned down and blocked your sun, making you open your eyes and look at him. “So I could have a buddy to sit with here.” You said, and his jaw dropped in offense. “What am I to you? Chop liver?” He asked, getting a laugh he loved out of you. “No, no you’re not, you’re my lovely sweet boyfriend.” You said, grinning as your hands rested over his that rested on the chair’s armrests. “Mhm, totally buying it until we get a dog.” He murmured, kissing your lips and then your forehead.
“What kind?” He asked, lips ghosting your forehead as you smiled. “A lab. Some type of dog that likes the sun.” You stated, catching him off guard that you knew instantly. He chuckled and nodded, “A lab would be nice.” He agreed.
That evening, on the phone, Tucker paced the room while you were out with a friend who helped you pick out a nice dress for a big meeting you had later that week. He was glad you were gone for a second, so he could panic to his mother for a second.
“So did you get the ring?” His mom asked as she watched him pace on facetime. “Yes.” He said, walking upstairs and to the closet. He listened to his mom laugh as he rummaged through the shoebox and grabbed it. She grinned and turned the phone to his dad too, seeing how the box was your favorite color. He opened the box, holding his breath in case he breathed too loud and didn’t hear you enter the house. His mom beamed and brought the phone closer to her face, he heard his dad in the back go let me see I'm his parent too, “It’s gorgeous! When are you asking her?” His mother exclaimed as his dad gave him the proud smile and thumbs up of approval. Tucker stared at it himself.
“I don’t know actually, maybe in a few weeks when I’m done with shows and we have a calm few months ahead of us?” He said, looking at his mom for some advice. She smiled softly, “Good idea.” She said softly, he nodded and put the box back. “Any place in particular?” She asked as he went back to the living room, sitting down on the couch. “No, she doesn’t want it public which is great, but then like I want to do it in this garden but that’s public-ish. I was thinking about dinner then taking her there with Neema hiding so we could get pictures.” He said, laughing at what he thought was a dumb idea, but the grin on his mother’s face confirmed how perfect it was for you.
“Well we’ll be waiting for that call.” His mother said.
Later that night, Tucker sat with you on the couch, arm slung over your shoulders as you watched television and he scrolled on his phone- a usual routine with him. “I have to go on a business trip the week you fully come home from the festivals.” You said, making his smile fade and he looked down at you. “What?” He asked, pouting for dramatics, he felt his heart sink a bit- he planned to propose that week. “Hey now listen, it’s in Chicago, then we could go to Maine after.” You said. Your idea made him pause, a small smile turning into a huge grin as he listened to your idea.
“You’re smart, you know that?” He said, watching you grin now. He followed that with peppering you with kisses, his heart melting at how you wanted to bring him along and go visit his home.
He sent a text to his mother as you showered that night, needing a new idea instantly, deciding he’d propose in Maine. Soon his shows ended and he got home to you, doing heaps of laundry before packing once again while you were out getting your nails done to a nice nude color for your conferences and events. Tucker felt some relief in that, knowing you wouldn’t get mad at him for not giving you some warning about your nails.
He put the box under his clothes in the suitcase, watching as you went through your business clothes and then the casual clothes. He only packed one suitcase, while you packed one large and small one. He had his bags, but it didn’t stop you from complaining about being overpacked. Tucker chuckled as you put a pair of flats in your suitcase beside the beat up pair of shoes you always wore in Maine.
“Well you have weekdays of business, we leave for Maine during the weekend,” He stated, helping you lay out your business clothes, matching your stance of hands on hips and a thinking face. You grabbed articles of clothing, both of you deciding on outfits and keeping strict to a couple pairs of slacks and working weekday outfits around them. You packed a classy white dress with it, his heart skipped a beat as you stood in the mirror with it on, pairing heels with it. It was like you were onto him. “Should we get a dog in Maine?” You asked, hearing him laugh and watching him in the mirror as he threw his head back with a groan.
“You won’t drop this-” “I won’t drop this, I want a dog-” “Baby I have plans first.”
You turned your head to him fully, away from the mirror to truly look at him. Oh shit. “Like what?” You asked. He threw his hands in the air to disguise it while he internally panicked, he didn’t mean to say what he did, “Let me surprise you with a dog, okay?” He said, now getting a groan from you. He let out a breath as you believed him.
As you went to meetings that week, Tucker booked a reservation, gave his mother money to buy a few flower arrangements, and looked up shelters nearby his childhood home. Every night in Chicago, you two went to dinners hosted by people who wanted to work with you. You walked in in matching slacks, you wore a fitting shirt and he wore a button up, you two were a perfect pair. He watched as you socialized easily, shaking hands with the people who were trying to collaborate with your business. You hugged the lady who owned the business, she looked like a future version of you. “This is my boyfriend, Tucker,” You introduced with a smile. Tucker shook her hand as she grinned, “Husband, you said?” She asked, leaning into you to hear you better, you blushed as you corrected her kindly.
Tucker ran a hand over his mouth, looking up at the ceiling with a smile of disbelief like the man up there he hardly believed in was testing him.
The dinner went well, and before you both knew it, you were sitting in the airport. Tucker’s warm hand was in yours as you sat in his jean jacket and wore comfortable clothes you were dying to get into. He raised his eyebrow at your slipper shoes, you rolled your eyes, “After heels everyday, this is needed dude.” You said, laughing softly with him as he kissed your temple and slinging his arm around you. “Soon we’ll get to lay in a comfortable bed and relax all week.” He assured, his hand never left yours, never stopped fidgeting with the ring on your finger. Thinking and thinking of what he was going to do in two days.
The day in between passed quicker than days ever did.
Tucker woke up before you and kissed your shoulder before slipping out of bed, he grabbed the ring from his suitcase, going to the kitchen where his mom made her coffee and breakfast. She turned to him with a knowing smile, “Flowers will be picked up once you guys leave. I’m making a cake, so don’t get her dessert, and text me on the way back so I know if I need to toss it all out before- I’m joking Tucker don’t look scared.” She laughed at his reaction, he sighed and rolled his eyes, “I hope you didn’t jinx me.” He said, a little bit of an edge in his tone as a joke. His mother scoffed, “She’ll say yes, don’t worry.” She assured.
She admired the ring before Tucker hid it in a random cabinet as he heard you walk downstairs. He greeted you with a warm hug and big kiss, you talked with his mom as you shared coffee with her, and he went over the reservation with you. “And why is this?” You asked, sipping your coffee.
Tucker looked at you like you insulted him, “I’ve been gone for ages and we haven’t been on a date, we’re always plus ones with other people.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone, and you raised your hand in defense, “Never mind, I’ll let my boyfriend treat me with no question.” You returned his tone, hearing his mom chuckle in the living room. Tucker walked over, an arm hooking around your waist and a fond smile pointed down at you, Tucker kissed you softly- you tasted cigarettes and he tasted coffee, a familiar mix.
You noticed he was on edge for most of the day, he knew you noticed when your hand was in his more, or you did the usual silent things you did to calm him. This continued through the night, dinner went smooth, you didn’t even ask for dessert, and you played soft tunes you both loved as he drove home- really to the dock he kissed you on for the first time.
When he parked, you looked at him, confused. Tucker got out without a word, and something in your brain started to think harder than it already had been throughout the day. Your thoughts were cut short when he opened the door and held his hand out to yours, and you felt a slight tremble in them. He walked you to the dock, leaving then returning to join you as you stared out at the water and sunset. This wasn't any different, somedays you guys went here to talk, nothing felt different until you felt the tug on your hand as Tucker knelt down. Everything in your world stopped as you looked down at him with the box and gorgeous ring in his palm, both of you instantly in tears.
“Y/n-” “Yes-” “Y/n that’s great but please let me finish.”
So you did, but your hand was already going to adjust your ring off your finger but- “Baby please let me do it.” He laughed as you brought your hand to your side and he laughed out a thank you, composing himself before he said what he wanted to. The small speech that was on the spot, he had so much to say but didn’t know what was right until he opened his mouth.
“Y/n, ever since you moved into my apartment and then insisted we needed a house that was bigger than the both of us, claiming it would be filled with our life and interests, I knew then I wanted to be with you forever in that house or any house. Everything you do, everything we’ve built, I want forever. No matter where I am, as long as you’re with me I am home, and if you’re not, I’m counting down the minutes and seconds until you are. Will you marry me?”
You acted like you were thinking, making him laugh and shake his head, “You’re a dick.” He joked, smiling as your jaw dropped, “Maybe I’ll throw the ring in the water-” “Hey I was joking-!” “Put the ring on already-!” “You didn’t say yes-” “Oh my god, yes! Yes-YES!” You exclaimed, both of you laughing, he was glad he had put the phone at the start of the dock to record this. “Hey no need to beg.” He teased, raising his eyebrow a few times as you scoffed.
You both smiled as he took the one ring off, sliding it onto your bare pointer finger, and slid the engagement ring on your ring finger. He stood up and engulfed the sides of your face with his hands, kissing you with all the love he could possibly give you.
The night was filled with you both returning, you shocked by the flowers and cake, and a celebration over cake and the replay of the video. Friends were called, the news was kept quiet, and once you settled into your home back in Los Angeles- Tucker posted a picture with you and your puppy, the ring on your finger shining bright.
Went to Maine for a week, came home with some new additions in our life.
Summary: surprising Tucker on the No Place Like Tour.
Warnings: fluff, bad jokes, ooc maybe
Wordcount: 1.2k
Masterlist, Hollywood Masterlist
"I wish you were here," Tucker mumbled, half asleep but still looking at her through his phone screen. The sun was still up on her side.
"We'll be together sooner than you can blink," she assured him, packing up her stuff for what he thought was a small business trip. The phone propped up on her desk, leaning against her bright screen that she had checked her flight details on minutes prior to him calling. Since then, he'd just been watching her.
From the corner of her eye, she could see him blink and then look around the room. Blinking multiple times again to drag out the joke until it's death.
"I blinked, where are you? Have you become a ghost now?" he asked, angrily looking at the screen and her laughing figure on it.
"I will ghost you if you keep acting like this?"
"You can't ghost me, baby. I live with you, remember that?"
"I will find a way, don't worry," she threatened, smiling sickly at the offended look on his face.
"Mean," he mumbled, his face falling further into the pillow.
"I love you too," she laughed, taking the phone back into our hands to tell him the tragic news she received when looking at the clock. "I need to go now, or else I'll miss my flight."
"Miss it then, I don't care. Just talk a bit longer."
"I will, soon. I promise." Looking at his puppy eyes, she felt a pang of guilt sough through her. It will be worth it though, she reminded herself. "Try blinking a few more times, maybe I'll appear then."
Before she hung up, she watched Tucker furiously blink at the camera, trying to hypnotize her and teleport her over to him.
The flight was good, at least as good as a flight can be. The anticipation and adrenaline at the thought of seeing Tucker again made it more bearable. It made it almost exciting.
Having discussed this with his manager, it was easier to get him to where she wanted. A small cafe she'd been told about by friends, where she was now sat in one of the corners with the sunlight shining down on her. Warming her already hot skin.
A few moments later, Tucker walked in alone. Looking around the room.
They'd planned it all in detail a few weeks beforehand. They would come there together, his manager saying that there was someone for the to meet (a potential sally for the night) and when they'd be in front of it, she'd excuse herself, say someone important just called and leave him to his own devices.
The rest, she could only make it up in her mind.
He'd walk in, confused and tired. Shoulders slumped down, his head hanging low. Looking around the room he'd look for someone he only knew by bare description. Finding her. His eyes lighting up, his feet dashing through the place until he picked her up.
And when he did, wrapping his arms around her waist, his face buried in the crook of her neck, she only then noticed that she missed him more than she admitted before. Cause her heart had never been beating quicker and no amount of reassurance made the emotions in her eyes wash away.
"You're- Are you really here?" Tucker asked, not quite ready to pull away just yet.
"I guess you blinked hard enough," she finally said, pulling away and taking his head in her hands.
Sitting down to eat, she'd already ordered for both of them. The food standing on the table, ready to be gone.
She'd talked about work and what he hadn't been updated about because she forgot late at night and he told her about tour. How it was so far. What the fans were doing every night and how good it felt to be on stage.
The conversation drifted from their own, personal life to the occurring night. Something he'd thought about doing for the longest time.
"When is your soundcheck?" She asked after a break in conversation.
"In about 20 minutes," he said, looking down at his phone before going back to the sandwich in his hands.
"Well, we better head back then."
Arriving at the venue, people were already lining up. Waiting to be let in in a few hours. Keeping his head low, his hood over his head, the two of them walked on the other side of the road, hand in hand. No one faced by the couple passing by. It was nice like that, so quiet and private.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked as she waited for him to get ready.
"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he assured her, turning around, leaning against the table and pulling her closer. Holding her waist to keep her in place for him to look at her.
She could see the determination in his eyes. He wouldn't say anything if she didn't want to. They could still pick someone from the crowd.
"I think it's better for us if we just open up," she said, fingers tracing over the details in his face. "We don't have to scream everything into the open, we can still be private."
"Your wish is my command," he said, bowing before opening the door. Waiting for her to walk through before walking through herself.
With her arms propped up on the barricade, she watched as he went though the songs. Messing up some lyrics even after singing them almost every night for the past two months and before that. Laughing as he stumbled on stage or shamelessly flirted with her because everyone in the room knew.
"OK, next one," he said, looking down on the setlist that laid in front of his feet. Smirking as he saw the title. "I wanna dedicate this song to the pretty girl in the front." Pointing right at her, the only person in the pit, his band began to laugh, still they played. "Everyone look at that woman, please."
The start to 'Look At That Woman' began playing, and even when he should get ready for the song, he still talked.
"God, she's so hot," he said, dramatically fanning his face and acting like he might faint. "You think she'll go out with me?"
He was now looking directly at her, waiting for an answer.
"Not if you keep messing up your own lyrics," she said back.
Everyone around them laughed. Taking their interactions with humor and less distaste because they made them wait, making Tucker miss his entrance. But it didn't matter to him this time, because she was stood in the first row. Eyes only focused on him; every word he sung and every step he took being noticed by her.
warnings: language, NSFW content (suggestive, sexting), multiple parts
part 2
a/n - this is my first fic i hope you guys like it! this is just part 1 so stay tuned :)
your phone buzzed on your nightstand, a generic ping that was far too loud for the time. you rolled over, grabbing it, assuming it was a spam email or a late-night notification. the screen lit up with a name that made your stomach do a little flip.
tucker pillsbury.
you’d only spoken properly a week ago. a whirlwind. a direct message from him, an invitation, and then you were standing on a stage in a sold-out venue, his hand in yours, the crowd screaming as he sang “sally, when the wine runs out” directly to you. he’d been a perfect gentleman, charming and a little shy.
but now? it was almost 1 am.
you opened the message. it was an image.
at first, your brain didn't compute. it was a picture of his lower stomach, the waistband of his grey sweatpants sitting low on his hips showing off a butterfly tattoo. he was lying down, the sheets slightly rumpled. it was… hot. your heart started thumping a little faster. then your eyes focused on what was pressed against the soft fabric of the sweatpants, thick and unmistakably hard. he was clearly aroused.
underneath the image was the text:
fuck, been thinking about fucking you all night. can’t stop.
your breath hitched. a wave of heat washed over your entire body. this was not a message meant for you. this was a mistake. your thumbs hovered over the screen, your mind racing. do you ignore it? pretend you never saw it? or do you say something?
before you could decide, your phone buzzed again. a frantic series of messages from him.
tucker: shit. that was not for you.
tucker: i am so, so sorry. y/n, please ignore that. fuck.
tucker: i am officially the most idiotic person on the planet. i’m so sorry if i made you uncomfortable.
you could feel the panic radiating through the phone. a small, wicked smile touched your lips. the embarrassment was cute, but the desire in that photo? that was real. and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about him too.
you took a deep breath and typed back.
you: i’m not ignoring it.
you hit send before you could second-guess it. the three dots appeared almost immediately.
tucker: please don’t hate me.
you: i don’t hate you, tucker.
you paused, then decided to be bold. you took a quick selfie, pulling the neckline of your own t-shirt down just enough to show the curve of your collarbone and the shadow between your breasts. you weren't naked, but it was suggestive. an answer.
you: and i don’t think you’re an idiot.
his response was instant.
tucker: jesus.
tucker: are you sure?
you: i’m sure.
the dots appeared and disappeared a few times. you imagined him on the other end, running a hand through his messy hair, his face flushed. finally, a new message came through, and it was different. the panic was gone, replaced by a low, confident heat.
tucker: then i’m not sorry i sent it. i’m just sorry it was an accident.
tucker: what are you wearing?
your smile widened. this was it. the line was crossed.
you: you’ll have to guess.
tucker: don’t tease me, y/n. i’ve had a fucking week of it.
you: then tell me what you were thinking about. in that photo. what were you imagining?
the reply came back so fast it made you gasp.
tucker: i was imagining you weren’t wearing that dress from the show. i was imagining what was underneath it. i was imagining my hands finding out.
the air in your bedroom felt thick, electric. you could practically hear his voice in your head, low and raspy right next to your ear.
Tucker x famous ex! reader posts (sorry in advance.)
TMZ_TV
▶️ saddle again
Liked by POPCRAVE, DEUXMOUI, TUCKERSSTINKY and 3,429 others
TMZ_TV Role Model, AKA Tucker Pillsbury, was spotted having a cozy, intimate dinner at local hot spot Saffy’s with actress Dakota Johnson. Is the ‘Saddle Again’ singer moving on just months after his split with longtime girlfriend and singer, (y/n)? An inside source tells us the pair have been ‘inseparable’ since meeting and that Pillsbury is ‘in a really good place’.
TUCKSRIGHTKNEE Ngl, this one hurts. Hope you're happy, Tuck. ❤️😔
JUSTASADSONG Literally logged on to see this. My heart actually aches for her. 😕
KANSASANYMOREWHORE i’m sorry but the vibes are OFF. This feels like a rebound and I’m not here for it.
WHOISVIOLA He looks happy. Let him be.
TUCKSFRUITSNACKS (replying to WHOISVIOLA) he wrote Frances. He doesn’t get to be happy. It’s in the contract.
USERSHEART So he's just... out here. While she's been radio silent. Cool. Cool. 💔
TUCKSHONEY someone check on YOURUSERNAME. This feels like a knife in the ribs. I just know she’s falling apart.
YOURUSERNAME
▶️ opposite
Liked by USERSBESTIE, YOURUSERPOSTS, USERUPDATES and 1.8m others
YOURUSERNAME heard mirror selfies are in. my counter offer is existential crisis selfies. ✨(scenery optional)✨ i got up just to post this.
anyway. go listen to my new single, “opposite.” it’s out now.
USERSOLDFAN This is giving "put on a happy face" and it's breaking my heart. The piano pic looks so lonely. :(
TUCKERFANBUTDISCO She's so messy. Just let him be happy. This is clearly about him.
GRACIEABRAMS here for you, always. 💛
USERPROTECTOR The way I would commit several low-level felonies for you right now. Just say the word. 😤
HOTSADGIRL this is so real. we're healing, we're breathing, we're NOT looking at tmz.
TUCKUSERSTAN If anyone needs an alibi for tonight, my DMs are open. I have bail money.
Reader’s POV—
It isn’t the darkness, or even the cold burst of air conditioning greeting you, that has your shoulders slumping the moment you walk through the door. It’s the silence.
For the past three weeks, you’ve been met with nothing but silence every time you turn the key. There’s no humming, no tapping, no whistling—which you used to find obnoxious—greeting you. Now, though… now you’d trade anything to hear Tucker attempting an off key rendition of Yellow Submarine with that scrunched-up, concentrated look on his face.
Instead, the only sound that greets you is the soft slam of the front door and the clattering of your keys against the bowl in the entryway as you carelessly toss them. It didn’t used to make that sound. The bowl used to have two sets of keys in it.
You shake the thought before it can linger too long, instead deciding to strip off your bag and coat, which you discard on the rack next to the door.
One of Tucker’s old sweaters still hangs—abandoned. You don’t even try to stop yourself as you reach out and pull one of the sleeves up to your nose; taking in a deep breath of the fading scent of him, a tiny, choked sob escapes your throat.
Your second mistake is lifting your head and catching your own eyes in the entryway mirror, watching your own crumbling face fold in grief. You’d seen the TMZ post. Of course you had, but you’d spent all day painting on a smile for your team in the studio.
You pull your phone out of your pocket, unable to resist the temptation to look again even though it makes your ribs ache.
“Mmmh.” The ache turns to an excruciating knife to the heart when the pictures appear on your screen again. The sound that escapes you is a trembling whimper against his sweater sleeve, which you finally release to scroll.
He’s in a really good place, and you’re drowning in the stillness of the home you once shared.
Your breath catches in a stubborn hitch, trying and failing to keep the tears building in your lashes from falling, but by the time you glance in the mirror again, they’re already streaming down your face.
“Fuck,” you breathe out, the curse escaping as more of a defeated whisper than anything else.
You can’t help it. As you watch your reflection slowly come unglued, your mind starts to race.
We’re so different.
Her hair is long and luscious. He can probably run his fingers through it without them even catching a tangle. Her big, brown doe eyes, openly expressive and crinkled at the corners as she laughs at something he said. Her smile—so warm and genuine—so infuriating when you have to fake yours most days.
Not with him, though. Never with him.
Your reflection catches your gaze, and you glance up from where you’d been studying Dakota’s face with the intensity of an art critic. One who can’t find a damn thing to critique.
“Oh, god,” you wrench out, finally lifting your hands to wipe under your eyes. Palm pressed to forehead, you pace a few steps back and forth in front of the mirror before collapsing onto the piano bench just inside your living room.
The worst part isn’t that you can see it. It’s that can feel the way he looks at her in those pictures. It’s the same way he’d looked at you only months before; like he’s in complete awe of every detail about you. His elbow propped on the table with his chin in his hand, that familiar, real grin peeking at the corners of his lips.
How can he just move on while your entire world falls apart? How can he give her those eyes—your eyes—like you never even existed?
Was he lying when he called you beautiful? Were you ever really what he wanted? Is she nice? Is she funny? Is she better in bed?
Does his mom love her?
The tightness in your chest is unbearable at this point, and one of your hands finds its way over your heart, trying desperately to keep it from falling out of your chest. Despite your strangled breaths and blurry vision, you reach out and open a notebook sitting on the piano’s music rest.
Your hands glide across the keys, catching a few times because of your tear-dampened fingers, but you clear your throat all the same. Your voice cracks horribly, but the first words that come to your mind spill out of your chapped lips regardless.
“She looks nothin’ like me,” you whisper-sing, scared that anything louder will crack your tight chest wide open. It doesn’t even sound like a lyric, just a heartbreaking truth that hangs in the air.
“Can’t really tell, should I be…” You pause, looking up at the ceiling like the words you’re looking for might be written there. “Tryna take it as a compliment?”
“It’s kinda feelin’ like the opposite.” Your voice finally breaks completely on the last word, along with your hear. It drops to your stomach like a sledgehammer, destroying every bit of peace you’ve been faking. Your hands slide from the keys to cover your face as a wretched sob falls out, followed by another.
The notebook ends up closed tightly, the lyrics tucked safely inside for another day.
oliviarodrigo not you leaving nashville the day before i get there...
yourusername I MISS U
rolemodel save a horse...
yourusername gross 😨
lookatthiswoman BEST SHOW EVER
mothertucker not you posting my sign... IM SORRY
yourusername 😭
yourusername
🎵 kingston - faye webster
yourusername another year in love with my best friend 💝 i love traveling the world with you, watching shitty movies with you, and understanding each other with just a look ❤️ us 5eva tucker
load comments...
reneerapp my parents
gracieabrams love you guys so much
rolemodel 6eva baby
yourusername and then some <3
rxgirl they make me believe in love
yslcowgirl DEADASS
c gabs: we are soooo back. and i did it on my laptop this time so it's a big one!!! also... he looked so good at atg... omg.
DOES LOVE COME AROUND OR DOES ONE COME AROUND TO IT? 𝜗ৎ chuck timely
masterlist! taglist!
i need some high hopes lord knows i could use em!
long story short: chuck never gets laid. something about his personality made him “unlovable” or maybe it was the fact he’s always hungover, or that he’s always late, or that he’s really broke. one of those, probably.
one fateful day, you ended up at joys automobile, god knows what was wrong with your car. greeting you, was no other than mr chuck timely. you’d never met, but obviously you’ve heard stories. he greeted you with a big buck tooth smile, “chuck,” he said shaking your hand “what’s wrong with your car?” you explained to him, even though you didn’t really know what was up,
you sat in the lobby for a couple hours while he worked, honestly you didn’t know what was so bad about him. he was kinda charming? he’d pop out every so often to come say hi and update you on the status of your car. he comes back out a final time to tell you it’s finished, you thank him and pay but inside you’re kind of upset to say goodbye to him. that is until you get in a car and see a paper tucked in the cup holder. you unfold it, “316-348-4313 call me :)” oh my god. none of your friends could know about this, or they would be so dissapointed. chuck timely of all people.
you were knocking on the door of a small, rustic house the following night. he answers and greets you with a hug. “well are you gonna come in?” he jokes. he was honestly a really nice guy when you got to know him! you’d returned home satisfied that night, he wasn’t that bad in bed either.
but he still had the question: does love come around or does one come around to it?
AN: HEYY!! short little fic because i am so up i love you chuck timely
warnings: it’s like older!famous!actress!reader x tucker, language, nsfw content
word count: 7.4k words
a/n - this is like the opposite of honeys and jake is not jake shane i just couldnt think of another name
————————————————————————————————
Hotel rooms always feel temporary, like they're built for moments that don't plan on staying long, and you move through this one like you've already decided it's yours. You're in front of the mirror, dress on, one strap adjusted and then adjusted again, hair falling exactly the way people pretend happens by accident. I'm leaning against the dresser, pretending I'm not watching, which is stupid because you know I am.
“We’re gonna miss the car,” I say, not moving.
You glance at me through the mirror. “You’re still standing there.”
“Exactly.”
You roll your eyes, but there's a smile in it – small and private – like you've heard this version of me a hundred times and keep me anyway. I step closer, not enough to crowd you, just enough that you feel me behind you, my hand landing on your waist like I’m steadying you when really I'm just checking if you'll let me.
“You always take forever,” I add, not looking at you through the mirror anymore but more looking at your side profile. God, I’m so fucked.
“You always watch,” you say back, smoother, and that one lands.
I catch your eyes in the mirror then and hold them longer than I should. There's something unreal about seeing you like this – polished, calm, already halfway out the door – knowing that in an hour there’ll be photos of you looking untouched, effortless, like nobody's hands were ever on you. My thumb drifts along your side, slow enough to be intentional, and you don't stop me. You never really do.
“Theyre gonna eat you alive tonight,” I say.
You shrug. “They always do.”
It's not arrogance. That's the thing. It's just a fact, and it's why it gets under my skin.
You move to sit along the edge of the bed to put your heels on, and before you can reach for them, I'm already there, crouching, taking one from your hand like it's mine to deal with. I buckle the strap slowly, fingers lingering at your ankle, tracing bone and warmth and everything I shouldn't be thinking about when we're supposed to be leaving.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” you say.
“Doing what?”
You tilt your head, unimpressed. “Being annoying.”
“It's foreplay.” I grin and kiss just above the strap, quick, like a joke, and you suck in a breath before you can stop it. That's all I need. I stand, hands sliding up your calves before I pull away, and you look up at me like you're deciding whether to call me out or let it go.
“Youre impossible,” you land on.
“You like me like this.”
You don't deny it. You just stand and smooth out your dress, composed again, untouchable again, like I didn't knock you off balance for half a second.
I toss a pair of lace panties I bought for you while back on the bed as I pass you, heading towards the door. “Wear that.”
You glance down at it, then back at me. “Youre unbelievable.” But you slip the lace material on up your legs, and under your dress, like you were waiting for it anyway.
“You say that every time,” I reply, grabbing my jacket. “And you still listen.”
You catch yourself in the mirror once more – just a second too long – that look flickering across your face, the one nobody ever gets to photograph. I step in, lift your chin with one finger, and kiss you before you can disappear back into it, slow enough to remind you I'm here, firm enough to wipe the look clean off.
When I pull back, you laugh under your breath, quiet, real. “Behave,” you tell me.
I open the door for you anyway, watching you walk past like you don't know exactly what you do to a room just by existing, like you're not about to be everyone's idea of perfect for the night. I follow closely, always in your space, always a little too aware of the fact that people see an angel when they look at you – and I'm the only one who knows better.
And I'm all about it.
I follow you into the elevator and you give me a look, smiling, a small “What?” leaving your lips as your head tilts.
You probably already know what I'm thinking – and it is me wondering how I even got you in the first place – but you like to hear my bullshit answer anyway. My innocent face is half-assed so you see right through it.
“Nothing,” I say, but keep eyeing you up shamelessly.
You roll your eyes, but you're smiling, and I know it's because you are enjoying this as much as I am – the two of us alone in an elevator going down, you knowing exactly what you look like in this dress, me knowing exactly what I'm thinking about.
Once the elevator hits the floor and dings, you're already walking out into the lobby. I follow close behind you, hand on the small of your back like it's normal. To be fair, it is. When we reach the doors, I watch as you cross your arms to hold in some heat as we get to the driver who's taking us to the restaurant. I listen as you thank him quietly as he opens the door and you scoot in.
I'm right behind you, sliding into the seat next to you in the limo and reaching for the bottle of champagne and two flutes sitting next to it like it's another part of this routine. I pour your glass first, then mine, and the driver closes the door behind us.
You take a sip from your flute, and I don't miss the way your eyes shut for a second like you're trying to savor it. You like the nice stuff, but you'd never admit it. It's one of the things I hate that I love about you.
“You keep staring at me, Tucker.” You smile, your hand coming up to cup my face for a second as you take another drink from your glass.
I'm caught, but I'm not ashamed. It's not like I was trying to hide it anyway.
I lean forward, lips brushing the inside of your wrist, where your pulse is racing. “Your fault for wearing that dress.” I mean, you can't blame me. Black with a hint of lace? It's like every guy's wet dream.
I take you by the waist, pulling you half into my lap as my mouth trails up your arm, leaving lingering, hot kisses over your bicep, your shoulder, your neck.
“Youre gonna get me worked up before we even get to the restaurant.” I smile against your skin at your words because I know you secretly love it.
But instead, you say, “I hate you.” with the biggest grin on your face because you know I don't care anyway. “God, I really like you.” You whisper, kissing the side of my face, and the smell of champagne is strong on your tongue.
I laugh into your neck and slide my hands under the hem of your dress, fingers spreading across the tops of your thighs. “You always say that when you're drunk.” I move higher, grip getting tighter, and you let out the tiniest gasp, fingers digging into my shoulders. “I should buy you drinks more often, then.”
You're about to say something else when the car comes to a stop, and everything outside of these windows comes rushing back – where we are, what we're doing, the fact that we are not alone. You start to shift out of my lap, hands reaching to adjust yourself, but I hold you down.
“No.”
Your eyes find mine. “Tucker.”
I've always liked how my name sounds coming from you, no matter what we're actually doing.
“You look perfect, angel.”
You smile and roll your eyes even though you're not actually annoyed. I'd like to think I could tell the difference by now. You're having fun with me. More fun than you've had with anyone else, you told me once.
“Okay.” you lean in and press a quick kiss to my lips. “We gotta go inside.”
I watch your lips move as you talk, and for a half-second I'm tempted to pull you back in and ignore whatever dinner we're supposed to be going to. It's probably the alcohol in my veins.
Your eyes are bright and beautiful, and my hands grip your thighs one last time before they slide away, falling into my lap. “Come on, baby.”
I get out first, holding out my hand to help you out after me. You try to stand and the first step is off balance, probably due to the height of your heels. You stumble, just a little, and my arms right there, steadying you until you're upright again.
It feels like some kind of performance – your hand in the bend of my elbow as we make our way to the doors, my hand on your waist like I want the world to see me touching you, the flash of cameras as it happens.
“You look so good,” You whisper into my ear as we enter the quiet of the restaurant, and the mere sound of your voice sends chills down my spine.
I'm about to respond but then we reach the table and our friends are there, and your arm is instantly out of my grip as you're hugging Devon and kissing Jake on the cheek and my hand feels empty.
“Took you long enough.” Devon grins as she stands to hug you, and Jake gives me a nod while I pull one of the empty chairs out for you. I try not to watch the long expanse of your legs as you sit.
You talk and laugh with them effortlessly, and I sit back, half-listening as Jake brings up some girl he met the other night. It's something he's started doing more in the last few months – bragging about the hook-ups he's had – and you always pretend it doesn't annoy you. I'm too sober and too selfish right now to pretend.
I reach for the beer the waiter just set in front of me, taking a long swig to give my hands something else to do.
Jake turns to me. “How ‘bout you, man?”
“How ‘bout me what?”
I don't even try to sound interested, but he doesn't take the hint as usual.
“Did you hook up with anyone last night?”
I have a smart ass reply on the tip of my tongue when your eyes flick over to me, half a second too fast and then away again. I'm reminded of the hickeys on your neck, the ones covered by that expensive foundation you're wearing, and the empty spot in my bed left by you this morning.
You cut me off before I even start speaking. “He fucked me. Duh.” I hate how naturally you say it, it doesn't even turn awkward or weird, it's just… normal. Your bluntness is normal. “You think he'd go out and cheat on me? Holy shit.” You look over at me and I can see the idea of me doing that crosses your mind. “I’d like… end you.” And obviously you lighten the end up by pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.
Your kiss feels like a warning and a promise all in one. Neither is lost on me.
Jake laughs, but I don't miss the slight look he exchanges with Devon, who's pretending to scroll through something on her phone.
“Damn, you're already a mess and we haven't even ordered yet.”
You scoff and flip him off with the hand holding your tequila soda. “Please, like you've ever known me sober at dinner.”
We order food and another round of drinks, and everyone starts drinking fast. The champagne in the limo has you loose, the tequila with dinner has you a little louder, a little more uninhibited, which only makes me laugh more often.
Your knee is pressed against mine under the table, and my hand keeps finding its way back to your thigh, a little higher than usual every time.
You're in the middle of a story, and you're already a few drinks in. Your face is flushed. Your eyes are a little glassy. Your hands gesture as you talk, knocking into my side, but my arm circles your waist again, pulling you closer, pressing your side flush against my chest. I'm not sure if anyone notices. Either way, you don't move away.
Devon, tipsy herself, leans on the table. “You guys are so cute.”
“Ugh.” you say in a disgusted way but I recognize it as playful. “I need to have a smoke. I'll be back.” You press a quick kiss on my cheek before getting up. I can't help but stare as you smooth out your dress, reaching into the pockets of your trenchcoat for a pack of smokes and a lighter before walking towards the part of outside that's private.
I watch as you go – watch the way your dress hugs your figure as you walk away, the guys at nearby tables turning their heads to do the same. It always happens – you draw the attention, I keep it.
I give it a minute – one minute and twelve seconds, I counted – before I’m standing, reaching for my jacket.
Jake’s eyes flicker up to me. “You're going after her, man?”
“Something like that.”
His mouth quirks up at the corner, like he knows exactly what that something is, but I can't find it in me to care. I'm out the door as fast as I can be.
“Hi,” you say between a drag as you see me walk out. “Whatre you doing?” You smile up at me and it's like I'm blessed.
“Thought you'd be cold,” I say naturally, arm already wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer to my side in the dim lighting.
You roll your eyes, but you're smiling again, taking another drag. “You just left Jake and Devon in there themselves?”
I lean against the brick wall and watch you exhale the smoke, the way the cold air makes it drift from your lips in wisps. Under the light of this street lamp you look unreal in all the ways I know you hate.
“They'll be fine.” I finally responded.
I'm still watching you, and you must know, because your tongue slips to wet your bottom lips and the corner of your mouth pulls up. You're enjoying this.
“You're drunk,” I say.
Your laugh brushes my face. “So are you.”
You're not wrong. My body's still buzzing all over. The buzz doesn't help with keeping my hands to myself. The other guys’ eyes didn't help either.
My hands are on your waist again, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress.
“You ruined my quiet smoke break.” you say, not really meaning it as you take your last drag and stomp it out. “C’mon, let's head back in.” You take my hand and bring me back in with you until we're back at the table.
I follow you back in like it's the most natural thing in the world, my hand pressed to the small of your back, your waist against my hip.
We slid back into our chairs, and were not any less close than we were before we left. If anything, my arm around your chair feels more obvious now.
We’re back to drinking, we're halfway through another round, and you're tipsy, maybe even a little past that by now. Your words have gotten a little louder, your laugh a little freer, the flush on your skin a little brighter.
You keep shifting in your chair, trying to get more comfortable in those heels you hate but wear anyway, and the hem of your dress rides up a little more every time. I pretend it's not driving me crazy.
We spend another hour or two there before paying for the food and getting back on our ride. You're giggling softly, obviously completely wasted, as I help you in with a smile on our face and our fingers intertwined.
“I hate these fucking shoes.” you say to me as soon as you get seated in the car.
“You chose them,” I say as I get in after you, shutting the door, and you lean against me for support, one hand on my chest.
“I know I did.” You're almost pouting, staring down at your feet in what looks like defiance. “And I hate them.”
I settle in next to you, my hands resting on your thigh instinctively. The driver starts the car, and as we drive, the tequila catches up to you again, faster than anything I've ever seen before.
Your head lands on my shoulder, your fingers start sliding along my side. I try to ignore both at the same time.
“I'm drunk.” You mumble.
I laugh under my breath. “I know, princess.”
“I don't like the pet name ‘princess’. I like when you call me angel more.” You say in a stupid honest way that's only coming from the fact that you're drunk.
I should've known tequila would get the truth out of you.
“You never told me you liked that.” I reply, my thumb brushing over the top of your thigh, just above the hem of your dress.
You lift your head from my shoulder to look at me, eyes slightly clouded and a little more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen them. My hand moves from your thigh to rest at the curve of your neck.
“You never asked.” You mumble back, and you smell like tequila, and your fingers are playing with the buttons of my shirt, and you're so close I can feel the warmth of your breath every time you inhale and exhale.
I laugh quietly, but I’m feeling my own alcohol buzz, and that's the only reason I say what I say next.
“Youre so beautiful it's stupid.”
A smile appears so quick on your lips that I know you find it embarrassing. “Shut up.” you whisper, looking away like a million people haven't said that already.
My fingers tip your chin up, turning your face back to me. Your blush is darker now, if possible, and it takes everything not to lean down and kiss you.
“Im just saying the truth.” My eyes don't leave yours, taking in every feature that's more beautiful than anything else in this car, or the whole restaurant, or maybe the world. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, Y/N.”
Your hands slide from my chest up to my neck, fingers weaving into the hair at the back of my head. “You say things like that,” you barely whisper. “But I can't read you.”
I'm too aware that my head is still on your thigh, fingers digging into your skin. I'm too aware that your mouth is inches from mine. I'm too aware of how desperately I want to close that distance. “Is that my fault or yours?”
“Youre good.” You shake your head with a grin as the car pulls up to our hotel that we were staying at. The driver opens our door and I'm out of it first, offering you my hand to help you out because I just know those heels are killing your ankles and you still have tequila running through your blood.
We stumble inside, your arm in my elbow, your hand holding onto my bicep for support.
I press the button for the elevator and try not to stare at the way the material of your dress hugs your waist, how it'd be so easy to get my hands under it and push you back up against the wall. Just the thought has me cursing under my breath.
The elevator door dings, and you pull me inside with you.
We stand next to each other, your back against the wall, my chest now pressed up against yours, and the second the doors close I'm kissing you, hard and fast like I've been wanting to all night.
At least I’m a little bit of a gentleman. I mean, I'd like to hope, I waited until we were between closed doors to start ravishing you.
You kiss back instantly, like it's what you were waiting for too, and one of your legs slides up to wrap around the back of my thigh. My hands grip your waist and pull you tighter against me.
I can feel as you start to pull back, and it’s probably because the elevator dinged, signalling were at our floor. But I cant help it, I cant pull back.
So, when the door does open, you're already trying to fix our position like you knew this would happen, but I'm still trying to pull you closer.
And of course, the Anne Hathaway steps into the elevator. You push me with more force and I run a hand over my face, laughing at us, and the fact we just got caught like that. I feel like a teenage fucking boy.
“Oh my God, Anne!” you say, and it's so obvious you're embarrassed. “Im so sorry. Fuck, I–” But, you do manage to get us out the elevator, stumbling out onto our floor, straighten your clothes.
I try to cover my smirk as the door closes, but you're pulling me down the hallway and trying not to laugh at yourself.
“You know Anne Hathaway?” I ask as you're fumbling in your purse for the keys, my body solid behind yours.
You roll your eyes, trying to act like you're not flustered. “Its not that crazy.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Its a little crazy.”
Finally you get the key in the lock and swing the door open, and I don't waste any time pushing you through it and shutting it behind me, and the second the doors closed I'm on you again.
My mouth is on yours, your arms snake around my neck, my hands slide under the hem of your dress, pushing it up your thighs.
I don't care about anything else but you right now, anything else but how your hands are grabbing onto my clothes, your nails scratching my skin.
You throw the keys into some random bowl by the door with too much force, causing the bowl to fall to the carpet, also making you laugh drunkenly against my lips.
“Fuck,” you curse against them, gripping onto my hair harder as we push each other back and forth, like were both fighting for control. We also both know it'll be handed to me anyway.
You're stumbling onto the bed, hands desperately pulling me with you, and I have to rip my mouth away to keep myself from laughing.
“Youre so drunk.” I say as I watch you squirm against the sheets.
You're trying to catch your breath, trying to pull me back to your lips, but I keep my hands on your thighs, holding them apart. “You didn't have to have so many shots.”
You're about to say something smart when my hands spread your legs apart and slide down to the waistband of your underwear, and your words turn into a gasp. “Are you still talking?”
I press my mouth to the inside of your thigh, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin as my fingers slide under the hem of your underwear, my other hand coming up to press against your stomach to keep you still.
You're already moving your hips against my hand, trying to get closer to the fingers that are now grazing through your underwear, touching right where your clit is.
“Fuck, Tucker.” you moan, seeing my face hidden between your thighs and underneath your dress. But you have to know exactly where I'm heading. It's always the first place I go.
I keep my eyes on you, watching your reaction, as my mouth moves up your thigh, leaving small hickeys as I go.
Your moan has me harder than I already was, and you're already pushing my hand down with your hips. You're whining now, and the sound goes straight to my cock.
“You want me to eat you, angel?” Your face goes slightly red, embarrassed at the way I was so blunt about it.
“God, Tucker!” You cover your face with your hands at my choice of words, smiling either way. “Dont say it like that!” you laugh.
I laugh and bite your inner thigh, hard enough that it'll be another bruise tomorrow, and my free hands yanks your hand away from your face. “No hiding,” I say, and you're about to respond when I finally slide your underwear aside and sink a single finger into you, no warning.
You gasp, your hips jolt forward, and your back arches off the bed, trying to push me closer. “You want me to eat you, baby?” I repeat.
“Please.” you finally whisper. It's quiet, I'll give you that, but still loud enough for me to hear and you're gripping onto my hair even harder.
I grin against the soft skin of your upper thigh. “That’s more like it.”
I remove my finger just to hear you whine and then replace it with my tongue, flattening my tongue against your clit and dragging it up.
You’re still gripping my hair, hard, as I start eating you out like I'm starving. My hands find your hips and pin them to the bed as I tongue-fuck you, the sounds coming from you and the way you’re trying to grab me everywhere are driving me insane.
You’re already pulling my hair hard enough to hurt and moaning without shame, and you taste so good that my lips and tongue can’t leave your clit.
You’re riding my mouth, your legs wrapped around my head to keep me in place, and it’s taking all your strength not to tighten your thighs around me.
“Christ,” you gasp as I pull away and slide my finger back into you. “You’re gonna make me come before you’ve even had – ah – a chance to have fun.”
I smile against your clit and push another finger into you, your moans only getting louder as I curl them against your walls.
“I am having fun.” I mumble against you, and you’re already clenching around my fingers.
I have to put my other hand on your thigh to keep you still enough just so I can properly eat you, and a string of curses falls from your lips as I pump my fingers in and out.
“Look at you,” I pull away long enough to say. “You're gonna come on my tongue, right?”
I’m back to breathing heavily into your pussy, and you just can't help but babble. You're saying a string of ‘yes’ and a bunch of ‘uh-huh’ as you reach your peak, your orgasm washing over you as quickly as it came.
You’re still riding my fingers as the waves start to slow down, your breaths still heavy and your legs still shaking.
I kiss your inner thigh again, pulling my fingers out of you, and pull yourself off the bed to collapse next to you.
“You look so pretty when you come.” I say as I move up the bed, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, still riding the high of making you come with just my tongue and fingers. It never gets old.
Your face is red and still flushed, but you’re smiling and reaching up to run your fingers through my hair.
“Shush,” you mumble. “You make me feel like I’m eighteen again.”
I can’t help but laugh and kiss away your embarrassed smile.
Your hands then move to my shirt as you make the kiss a little more serious in a way. Your tongue’s already invading my mouth and you're on the last button of my shirt.
You're moving like you can't waste anymore time. Not with me atleast, that is what I take away after every encounter. I mean, you've said I turn you into some sort of animal. The first time you told me, you were so embarrassed, I still remember the look on your face, but fuck, I am so into it. So into you, really.
I lift my arms so you can pull my shirt off, and the second it disappears I’m pressing you back against the bed and kissing you again with tongue and teeth, my hands finding the zipper on the back of your dress and pulling it down.
I’m moving fast now, getting your dress off and dropping it somewhere behind me until you’re completely naked under me, every inch of your skin laid out.
You switch the position, quick, pushing me onto my back, starting to kiss down my torso already. You leave a few hickeys here and there as I undo the button and zipper of my dress pants, kicking them off easily. I moan softly as you focus on my nipples for a second before your mouth reaches the waistband of my boxers.
You pull them down as I instinctively push your head down. I can feel your teeth smiling against my skin as you get them down my legs and off, your one hand already working me. That look in your eyes drives me insane. It's like you're waiting for me to tell you what to do.
Your hand working my cock has my stomach tightening and my eyes shutting, and I have to grip the sheets to not flip us back over again.
You’re already wrapping your lips around the head of my cock, and I have no chance of not being a moaning mess for you.
“Fuck.” My hands bury back into your hair. “Gonna make me come too fast if you keep that up.” My hips move up to push my cock further into your mouth, gagging you on my cock.
Your eyes are locked on mine as you suck me off, your tongue swirling around the head and your hands pressing my hips down so I can’t move too much.
It takes all my self-control not to hold you down and just face-fuck you, get myself off on your mouth.
I know that’s what you’d want anyway, but I’m not giving it to you that easily.
“Just like that.” I grunt. Your mouth is perfect around me, taking as much of my length as you can.
Your cheeks are hollowing out as you work me over, moving down to take as much of me as you can. Your mouth is making my toes curl, my teeth dig into my bottom lip, my hands grip your hair tighter and tighter.
All of this just from your mouth.
“Gonna come.” I rasp out. “You want me to come in your mouth, angel? Hm? You gonna take it all?” I’m holding your head still now as I fuck myself into your mouth.
I’m practically using your mouth now, pulling your head down on me by your hair, and you’re just letting me.
My hips are snapping up, not caring about how rough I’m being because you can take it and because your mouth feels so fucking good.
“Sucking me off so good, baby. Such a good girl.” I’m trying to keep my eyes on you, trying not to come too quickly, though it’s hard. I’m right fucking there.
Your free hand is pressed against my thigh to support yourself and somehow it just feels too good, almost a tease. It’s like you’re asking me to come with your fingers, with your throat.
You’re sucking me off like it’s your favorite thing in the world, and you’re letting me use your mouth like you know I’m so close.
You’re gagging on my cock for me.
“You’re gonna make me— ah, fu—“ My hips are still moving as I release down your throat, a groan leaving my lips.
You’re still sucking me off like you want to make me hard again right now. Like you want to keep me right here with your mouth on my cock.
Slowly, I pull out, and your mouth is still open when I do, my release on your bottom lip, a perfect view.
Before my eyes can shut I can already feel your thighs wrapping around my waist, your clit already sliding up my length, your chest against mine again.
You’re right there, holding my shoulder as your neck twists and your breath picks up.
You’re grinding against me like I’m all yours right now, your hands holding my shoulders and your hips moving against my waist.
We’re both too drunk to have any control, too messy and desperate for one another. Your moans are too loud, but you’re not trying to be quiet. You’re too into it for that.
Your forehead is pressed to my shoulder, your face buried in my neck, and you’re already panting in my ear. You start moaning even louder when I ”accidentally” slip in. We've played this game too many times before.
I’m still hard and already throbbing inside you, your hips grinding down on my cock and your clit.
Your moans are right in my ear and I’m too overwhelmed by you right now to do anything but hold you and let you take over.
You whine and moan, “Oh, god,” as you ride me faster, the feeling of me grinding up against your clit too good.
“Feels so good.” You manage to get out.
I take control of your hips because I love the feeling of you completely letting go in the moment, letting me have all the control.
And with that, I change our position. Suddenly, Im bending you over and Im behind you, already fucking into you in a way that turns you into a mess. Into someone who no one knows about. Only I get to see you like this, and it definitely drives me.
I grab a fistful of your hair as I push into you, the sound of your ass hitting my hips echoing off the walls.
You’re already moaning too loud, your hands reaching back and resting on my thighs.
“Such a pretty, pretty thing.” I get out in between my own grunts. “So tight. Can’t you just stay like this forever?”
You’re pushing back against me as you press your face into the sheets and your fingers tighten around the blanket. It feels too good, and your moans are too loud, but you can’t stop either.
Your legs are shaking against mine, and I know you’re close already.
Just a “yeah” comes out of you. But it’s enough for me to know you’re feeling too good too.
I can hear you moaning into the sheets, the sound slightly muffled but still so needy for me.
“Your pussy is perfect, baby.” I rasp. “You’re perfect.” My hands grip your hips almost too hard, fingers sure to leave marks in your skin.
You’re moving back against me, meeting every one of my thrusts and just taking it. My hand comes up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place against the mattress as the headboard hits the wall.
My hands are digging into your hips so hard it’s leaving marks I know will last.
You’re getting closer now, your moans getting louder and your legs starting to give out below you.
You’re pushing back against me and taking me as deep as you can, that’s how close you must be.
“You’re my baby, huh?” I rasp. “My angel. Such a pretty little cock sleeve for me, aren’t you?” I keep going. “Such a good girl for me.” I groan.
You moan something against the sheets and it’s too difficult for me to make out your words.
“Gonna come.” You finally manage to get out, and it’s the only warning I get before you’re tightening up around me as you clench up. I curse and hold you a little tighter as you feel me coming inside you, filling you up.
“Fucking hell, baby.” I groan as I come down from my high. You’re slumped against the bed, your legs looking like they’re shaking a little.
I don’t pull out of you right away, my hands sliding off your waist as I try and catch my breath.
You’re still slumped over, breathing hard, and you don’t even bother to move. I lean over you and press a messy kiss to the back of your neck, to your shoulder.
“You’re so beautiful,” I mumble and press another kiss against the back of your neck, and you laugh under me.
You laugh again, reaching back to push my hair back off my forehead that’s resting on your neck.
“You’re just being nice.” You brush me off. I roll my eyes at that, but you can’t see it.
“No, I mean it.” I press another kiss to the shell of your ear and move to roll you over, but you don’t make the motion easy. You’re still refusing to move.
“You’re so hard to compliment.” I grumble as I maneuver you onto your back.
My hand runs down the plane of your stomach, a million thoughts rushing back to my head.
My eyes meet yours again and that want has not dissipated yet. I’m fucked. I groan and lean back in, kissing your neck and positioning myself back between your legs.
I can feel you getting wet again when I grind down against your clit with my still-hard cock. You gasp and squeeze my ass when I do and I grin.
“Always such a greedy girl, aren’t you?” I murmur and press another kiss to your neck, biting and leaving a bruise.
Your only reply is a moan, and you’re pressing up against me as much as you can. I’m getting too worked up again.
“I gotta get back inside you,” I tell you, my voice showing how fucking lost I am right now. Lost in you.
My cock is hard again when I sink back into you, and my hips pick up a pace against yours.
Your legs squeeze around my waist, trying to pull me even deeper, to take even more of me.
You’re already moaning and clenching around me again, and I let you pull me down, your hands on my back and my mouth against your neck again. I’ll let you do anything to me right now. You just make me dizzy.
”Your pussy is perfect, baby.” I rasp against your skin, nipping it.
This time you whine something that can almost be called my full name, though it only comes out as “Tuck–“ before you’re cut off by another moan. You’re trying to hold on, to keep it together.
I don’t know why you bother.
My tongue is on your neck, your collarbone, your chest. My hands move down to grip your waist to hold you still as I’m thrusting into you.
”Your perfect little pussy feels so good on my cock, sweetheart.”
Your hands are pulling my hair, trying to bring my mouth back to yours, and I give in. I don’t fight your arms around my neck, your hands on my head.
My tongue slides into your mouth, and you moan into the kiss. It’s messy. So messy.
I’m pushing too hard against you, too desperate. I’m just as lost in sensation as you are. The sound of skin slapping fills the room, filling my ears with that sound, my fingers pressing into your skin so tightly they’ll leave marks. Your mouth, your hands, your body.
It’s all mine, and I’m letting you take what’s yours.
”You’re too much, sweetheart.” I pant out in between gasps and moans, and you nod your head in agreement.
Your face is flushed again, your hands clawing at my back, and your mouth is open against mine. Your moans are getting loud enough that I have to put my hand over your mouth to quiet you, and I can’t help but love the way you go boneless.
”Be quiet, baby. Let me show you how good I can make you feel.” I murmur against your ear.
”You don’t have to do much of anything.” You mumble back, and I full-on grin.
My hand slides down from your mouth and to your neck, gripping harder as I grip your neck. Just enough to make it a little hard to talk and breathe. I know you like it. You like it when I’m rough. You love it, and I’m gonna give it to you.
My hand comes down to press against your stomach, and I can feel my cock in you, your walls clenching around me. You’re trying not to be too loud.
”You’re gonna feel this for days.” I tell you.
“I’m gonna come, Tucker.” You moan loudly, the sound slipping right through the gaps of my fingers.
“Yeah, baby? Yeah?” Even I’m close to whimpering now, digging deeper into you.
My hips are moving faster now, moving with need, with a need I can’t stand anymore. I’m too far gone to keep any composure, just like you.
My mouth is on your tits, the feel of my teeth almost too much as I suck and bite. Your hands come down to grip my hair again, trying to keep me there as I grind down against your clit.
My own moans are escaping my lips now, and I’m pressing you down into the mattress like I’m trying to get you to sink into it.
”Gonna come for me again, angel?”
You can hardly make a sound right now, and your chest is rising and falling too quickly. You’re a mess, your face all red and flushed, and you’re nodding frantically.
Your grip is too tight, but it feels so good.
”Yes, yes, yes—“ You manage to get out, and I can feel you getting closer.
”Come for me, Y/N. On my cock. Show me, just once more.” I rasp. All of my focus is on you, on making you feel good. I couldn’t think about anything else if I tried.
You’re almost there, just so close. You’re whining high and needy now, almost like a child. Your back is arching off the mattress, your legs are trembling around me, and you’re practically pleading.
”Please, please, I’m so—“ It’s all you can get out before you’re coming around me again, and I curse at how good it feels. Your hands are still clutching me tightly, like you can’t let me pull away.
”Your pussy’s too perfect for me. You’re gonna make me come like this. God.”
I can’t hold myself back anymore, and I’m groaning out your name, your fingers digging into my skin as you pull me tighter against you, my mouth pressed to your neck again. My hips are snapping against yours, and I’m buried as deep as I possibly can be, filling you up again for the second time.
My head is spinning, and all I can think is your name.
”Fuck, Y/N. You’re gonna be the death of me.” I pant against your neck when I catch my breath.
“Good?” I lift my head away from your neck just to look at you, and you’re smiling up at me.
You roll your eyes at me. ”Stop being smug. You know it was good.” You mumble.
I smirk and press a kiss to your forehead. ”Yeah, babe. It was good. For both of us.”
You slap my arm and huff. ”I don’t need your ego getting any bigger.”
I laugh and bury my head back into your neck. ”You love my ego, sweetheart.”
You run your hand through my hair again, and I can feel you running your fingers through all the tangles you caused when you pulled my hair from all the different angles.
”I don’t think I can move.” You groan, and I smile against your neck.
