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#He does know how to mute everything
offrozenmemoirs · 23 days
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There is one caveat to dating seraph and that's coming to terms that he quite literally lives with voices in his head.
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verflares · 2 months
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i wanna transplant a lot of how ive written botw/totk link into my og one i think..... mostly just because writing for him last year made me realise how much i enjoy seeing how far you can go with using minimal dialogue + actions and expressions over words to convey thoughts and feelings, both from that pov and from others
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verstarppen · 9 months
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summary; mercedes is a just a tiny bit worried about your dates with their archenemesis
pairing; max verstappen x fem! mercedes admin! reader [ no faceclaim ]
a/n; due to popular demand here's the part 2; i see your comments: you asked and i deliver 🫶 [ series masterlist ]
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liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63, carmenmmundt and 299,546 others
mercedesamgf1 have some tits to distract you from that crash
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gerogerussell63 Does your boyfriend know you're posting this
mercedesamgf1 his tits are bigger why would he care
staraikkonen THE ADMIN IS KILLING ME
ceruleanwilliams it worked
g3org3zilla THANK YOU ADMIN FOR THE BLESSING 🙏
honeyvettel FOR FREE????
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liked by schecoperez, maxverstappen1, christianhorner and 166,267 others
redbullracing Hot weather 🤝 Ice Baths, sorry for the wait. 😉
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mercedesamgf1 booo post the vertiddies
goatlonso GIRL THIS AIN'T YOUR PRIV ACCOUNT strawberryrosberg TEARS
ynusername sorry correct account this time boooo post the vertiddies
schecoperez No comment lewishamilton Really? Seems like you always have an opinion ynusername can we go back to the more pressing issue lewishamilton Don't you already stare at his chest enough maxverstappen1 She does? ynusername ACCUSATIONS
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liked by mickschumacher, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 295,199 others
ynusername us during wig gate btw
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lewishamilton Blocked and reported
ynusername YOU'RE JUST MAD YOU GOT BAMBOOZLED
danielricciardo Things I ate and survived: That
ynusername i am in awe of your slaynergy (slay energy) mickschumacher 🙏🙏🙏
georgerussell63 Y'all hear something
ynusername stay mad georgerussell63 Praying for your downfall.
applenorizz HOW IS THIS WHOLE SITUATION REAL I-
lionkingseb wig gate is more entertaining than anything during silly season
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liked by maxverstappen1, ynusername, pierregasly and 740,191 others
charles_leclerc This is my official audition for the next wig gate model. I'm ready 👠
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ynusername are you sure this isn't an audition to date my boyfriend
charles_leclerc Never insult me like this ever again
arthur_leclerc jumpscare
maxverstappen1 I'll be frank, I dropped my phone.
charles_leclerc Hi, Frank ynusername wow i wish you dropped your phone when you look at me 💔💔😩 maxverstappen1 I would drop everything for you ynusername oh 🤭 charles_leclerc Get out of my comments and get a room.
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liked by maxverstappen1, mickschumacher, charles_leclerc and 101,736 others
ynusername he's just a little guy
view all 42,009 comments
lewishamilton Please stop putting him on my timeline
ynusername this is your purgatory
patiencesainz i keep forgetting this man is 1.81cm
troubletauri FAMINE OVER, THANK YOU FOR FEEDING ORANGE ARMY MAX CONTENT
gonestappen LOOK AT HIM
georgerussell63 I wish instagram would create a muting posts feature
ynusername woomp woomp
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pic credits: pinterest and instagram
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inkskinned · 4 months
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there's a video on instagram of a man kicking his partner's door in. the top comment is (with over 4 thousand likes): "how about you tell us what you did to make him that angry?"
barring emergency, nobody should be kicking anybody's door in. many of us lived in houses where it was always, somehow, an emergency. there is a strange, almost hysterical calm that comes over you in that moment - everything feels muted, and you almost feel, however incongruently, like you should be laughing. you are living inside of "the emergency." oh my god, you think. i am now a fucking statistic.
there is another comment with 2.8 thousand likes: "if this was a woman doing it to a man, nobody would give a shit."
do people give a shit now, though?
barring emergency, the door should remain standing. the emergency should be panicked, desperate - "i'm coming in there to protect you." many of us know what it feels like when the emergency is instead "i'm coming in there to get you."
1.5k likes: "and yet you post this for notes. glad to see being the victim has become your whole personality."
hysteria is a word connected to womb, from greek. what you're experiencing is so senseless and inhumane that you (a rational creature) try to find any ground within what is irrational and cannot be explained. one of the most frustrating things about staying in bad situations is that we also lie to ourselves. we also ask ourselves - wow. what did i do?
women can be, and often are, also abusers. abuse is not gendered. abuse is not just a "straight person" problem. abuse does not have a face or figure or sexuality. you cannot pick an abuser out of a crowd. an abuser could be actually anybody.
and then so many people rally behind the man kicking the door in. here is something nobody should be doing, right? you want to ask every person that liked that first comment: do you ask this because you side with him? do you ask this because it helps you feel safe from this ever happening?
in some ways, you're weirdly sympathetic to the top comment, because it is the same logic you see frequently. the idea is that the average, normal, sane person doesn't just break down a door. doesn't just shoot up a school. doesn't stalk and kill women. doesn't threaten sexual assault. doesn't run over protesters. doesn't shoot an unarmed black person. doesn't scream at underpaid walmart employees. doesn't just "lose it". something had to have happened, right? because the default (white. straight. cis.) - that is someone who is always, you know. "sane."
(right?)
on a podcast, you hear a sane, normal, rational person. "if you piss me off, i'm going to need to hit something. sorry but i'm not apologizing. that's just who i am that's how it is." his voice almost sounds like he's laughing.
you think of the door, and how you were almost laughing behind it, too. ironically, every real emergency in your life has almost felt peaceful in comparison. fire, car accident, flash flooding - these felt quiet, covenant to you. you'd stood in all of them, feeling them pass over and up to your chin, never actually overwhelming.
but when the door was coming down, you had felt - is there a word for that? there has to be, a word, right.
surely one of us has figured out the word for that, i mean. it's such a large fucking statistic.
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pucksandpower · 3 months
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Mad World
Logan Sargeant x Vowles!Reader
Summary: no matter how cruel the rest of the world may seem, Logan will always have a home with you
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Logan stares blankly at James Vowles, unable to process the words coming out of his team principal’s mouth.
“I’m … I’m sorry, what?” Logan stammers, his heart pounding. This can’t be happening.
James looks immensely uncomfortable but pushes on. “Alex needs your chassis since his is too damaged and the team does not have a spare. You’ll have to withdraw from the race weekend.”
The room falls into an oppressive silence as the words sink in. Logan can feel his chance at remaining in Formula 1 next year slipping away with each agonizing second. Why is he being punished for a crash that wasn’t his fault? The questions swirl dizzily in his mind.
James regards him with remorseful eyes. “I’m sorry, Logan. There’s no other way ...”
The words hit Logan like a punch to the gut. He stares at James, numb, his mind spinning. After a long silence, he nods mutely and forces out, “I … I need a minute.” His feet move without conscious thought, carrying him blindly down the corridors as burning tears blur his vision.
Logan’s heart pounds in his chest as he rushes through the hallway, tears streaming down his face. He can barely see where he’s going as he barrels toward his driver’s room. His breaths come in ragged gasps, the weight of James’ words crushing him.
How could they do this to him? After everything?
He fumbles with the handle, finally wrenching the door open and slamming it shut behind him. Logan leans back against it, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor. Sobs wrack his body as the reality sinks in — he’s out for the weekend because of someone else’s mistake.
It’s not fair. None of this is fair.
His career, his dreams, his entire future flashing before his eyes, slipping away because Williams can’t get their act together. Why did they even re-sign him if they have so little faith? The questions swirl in his mind, only compounded by the hurt and anger burning in his chest.
Logan stays like that for who knows how long, gasping for air between cries that feel like they’re literally tearing him apart from the inside.
He’s so consumed by emotion that he doesn’t hear the tentative knock at first. When it comes again, louder this time, he jolts slightly, raising a hand to wipe uselessly at his tear-streaked face.
With trembling fingers, he pulls open the door, and you’re standing there. The mere sight of you breaks through the haze of devastation, if only for a moment.
You step inside without a word, wrapping your arms around him, and the dam breaks again. Fresh sobs spill out as Logan crumples against your chest, clinging to you like a lifeline while you softly hush him, guiding the two of you to the couch.
You maneuver him gently until his head is cradled in your lap, your fingers combing soothingly through his hair. “I came as soon as I heard,” you murmur, voice thick with shared pain. “I can’t believe they would do this to you because of their own mistakes. It’s not right.”
Logan tries to speak, to voice the turmoil inside him, but all that comes out is a strangled, “Why? I don’t … I don’t understand. It’s not my fault, so why am I being punished?” His words dissolve into hiccuping gasps. “They must not have faith in me at all. This … this is it, isn’t it? The end.”
You shush him again, cupping his face to brush the tears away with your thumbs. “Don’t think like that. The team is the one in the wrong here, not you.”
But the storm won’t be quelled so easily. Logan sits up abruptly, putting distance between you despite how his heart aches at the loss of your touch. “But soon I won’t even be a driver anymore,” he chokes out, meeting your eyes with his own reddened, devastated gaze. “You shouldn’t … you deserve so much better than me, Y/N. Better than someone whose career is over before it even started.”
“Logan Sargeant, don’t you dare say that.” You’re on your feet in an instant, hands on your hips in a stance he knows all too well — the fierce protectiveness that still makes his heart flutter, even now. “I am with you because I love you, every amazing, incredible part of you. Not because you’re an F1 driver, but because of the person you are.”
He can only gape at you, stunned into silence by the intensity of your words, the unwavering certainty in your tone. You step closer, cupping his face again, making him meet the blazing love and conviction in your eyes.
“I don’t care if you never race again, though you know I believe in you with everything I have. I’m not going anywhere, do you understand me? We’re in this together, always, no matter what.” You press your lips to his brow, his cheeks, finally claiming his mouth in a searing kiss that leaves him dizzy. “I love you,” you breathe against his lips. “I love you so much, Logan.”
He’s dumbstruck, overwhelmed by the ferocity of your devotion, even in the face of his lowest moment. How did he get so lucky as to have you in his life? In a heartbeat, Logan is kissing you again, tears of a different kind streaking his cheeks as he murmurs the words over and over. “I love you, I love you, I love you ...”
Eventually, you guide him back until he’s lying down on the couch once more, placing a small pillow under his head. “Get some rest, babe. You’ve been through the ringer today.”
He catches your hand before you can move away fully. “Where are you going?”
The fiery look in your eye makes his stomach flip. “I need to go have a … conversation … with my father.”
Logan lets out a teary laugh at your protective fierceness — one of the many things he loves most about you. “Yes ma’am.”
Leaning down, you brush one last lingering kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
As you turn and head for the door, Logan feels his heart swell watching your receding form. For all the hurt today has brought, he knows more than ever that he’s the luckiest man in the world to have you by his side.
As Logan drifts into an exhausted doze, his last conscious thoughts are of you — his forever, his everything — and how lucky he is to have such an amazing love in his life.
No matter what happens next.
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luvvixu · 5 months
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how to tame your boyfriend
content: bf!gojo, mentioned of sex and sexual stuffs, 16+, fluff, drabble, does not contain any smut, i think gojo's like this can't blame me
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wanna know how to tame your annoying (and horny) boyfriend when your flight is delayed?
that's very easy. just buy him some lego and he would go on instant mute.
"i can't believe you really bought satoru—a full 27 years old ass man—a set of legos?" your friend from the other line, shoko, wheeze and at the same time confused for your action to tame your boyfriend.
sighing hardly while massaging your temple, you answered. "i had to, sho. he won't stop bothering me to have a quickie since our flight was delayed and he was bored."
your flight overseas was delayed for three hours because of some maintenance needed to be checked in the aircraft. now, satoru thought it is a good idea to spend those three hours having a passionate fornication.
of course you immediately dislike the idea even though you are tempted too. you value your morals, ethics, and dignity. unlike your boyfriend, he has no shame and would even proudly tell some random people that you are his by some marks solely created.
"could've played with his phone but seriously, why lego?" shoko was still laughing, now that you opened your camera and showed her your boyfriend who's literally sitting on the airport floor with bricks of lego on his hands.
satoru looked so focused and unbothered, which is an extremely good thing—like he couldn't stop whispers in your ears, whining about how needy he is right now and how badly he wanted you. but now he's occupied, it is the greatest relief for you.
"first, his phone is dead and was tempt to buy a new fucking phone just because he said charging using a power bank takes a lot of time. had to smack the shit outta him and force him to get out of the apple store."
yep, the idiot forgot to charge his phone before you left for the airport. now his phone is dead, the desire to buy a new one instead of waiting for his phone to be charged in a powerbank is crazy. although, money is not a problem for the head of the gojo clan—he got figures that cost more, more, more than your annual salary.
"second, lego made him focused and entertained on building it, not for having scandalous sex with me. i feel like he's being my child than being my boyfriend at this moment." you joked, lowering your voice so your big baby wouldn't hear you.
"you said it yourself that satoru is a full package." shoko rolled her eyes, but she's not wrong tho. satoru is everything, he could easily afford things and could even make some things impossible to possible.
"touché."
shoko let out a laugh. "anyway, gotta go now. got a client in an hour so bye my boo, mwa!" sending also a virtual flying kiss to your platonic friend, you both bid a farewell to with sweet smile on your faces.
as you ended the call, you turned your attention to your boyfriend who's now almost done on his lego that he's been occupying himself for like an hour now.
you made to take some photo of him and post it on your close friends in instagram because this scene of your boyfriend is literally a wholesome and definitely iconic. satoru glanced at you when he heard you giggle at some adorable shots of your boyfriend.
"what are you laughing at?" your boyfriend glanced up to you, confused and warily.
you shook your head, holding your laughter to not raise any suspicion. "nothing babe, just focus on fishing your lego instead of other things."
satoru showed you the figure "oh but i'm finished and we still have like an hour before our flight…" he paused. your mouth hangs wide, questioning about how the hell he builds almost five hundred tiny pieces in just an hour?! truly your boyfriend was really something but this is wild.
"how did you—"
"can we have a quickie now?" satoru smiles sheepishly.
your face turns more sour at his shameless request. although you understand that satoru is a man in need, but his neediness sometimes is really out of place and it took a lot of effort just to stop him from doing so.
"no, satoru. instead, we're going to have a quickie stop at the lego shop to buy you some more entertainment."
your boyfriend pouted at your answer like a hurdled puppy. "but i'm enjoying it more when i'm inside you."
that completely took you off guard.
"... tempting but no."
©luvvixu2023
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classypauli · 2 months
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𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹’𝑺 𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻
Part 2
Pairing: Tara Carpenter x fem!Reader
Summary: After so long Tara finally meets you again... only this time a little drunk.
Word count: 3k
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It has now been a couple of weeks since visiting the hospital. People would think that Tara has already forgotten about what happened but the opposite is true. In those weeks there wasn´t a day she would not think about you. Her mind was repeating what happened and everytime a smile grew on her face. Mindy and Chad started to make fun of her, saying she looked like a kid first time having a crush. She doesn´t care.
Tara wanted to see you, so badly. She started thinking about how to get to see you again, like she would play another attack and go to the hospital, which to be honest was too cruel, or she would just go there and act like she had some examination and suddenly she saw you start to talk with you, then you would ask her to go on a date with her, you would start dating and-
God, she needs to stop. Young Carpenter sighed and put her head on the table. The voice of her professor was muted in her ears, today she felt like sleeping, just laying in her bed all day doing nothing. It was friday and she promised to go to some party. Mindy has been talking about it forever.
„Mindy I´m not in a mood right now.“ The girl turned her forehead against the table.
„I didn´t even say anything!“ Mindy scanned the shorter girl, looking for any signs of sickness. „You don´t feel good?“ she asked now with a normal tone. Tara shook her head.
„Well then we should probably call some doctor, who knows, maybe they will help you.“ Tara punched the girl beside her, making an angry noise from being teased on.
„Who does he think he is?!“ Tara was angry. They were currently at the party Mindy talked about. Everything was fine at first, everyone was minding their business, and they danced and drank, talked and joked around. It was so much fun.
But that fun soon disturbed that idiot Frankie. He was being himself of course and was trying to get with every girl there, including Tara. But the girl wasn´t in the mood for his stupid games. At first, she ignored him but as soon as he was touchy and started grabbing her to go upstairs, she became furious.
She yelled at him so hard the boy even flinched, wasn´t expecting this behavior from a sweet girl like Tara. Yeah, like she was some easy prey. He then became angry and embarrassed but knowing a lot of people were around him he couldn´t do anything.
„He is a prick Tara forget about him.“ Mindy was standing beside her watching as her friend was getting more alcohol into her cup. Tara wasn´t really drunk, yet at least. And after this incident, she just wanted to get alcohol into her system to forget about his ugly ass face.
„Like...“ the short girl let out and furious sigh out of her lips. „he is such a fucking idiot I´m surprised no girl has punched him yet.“ Tara shook her head at the bitter taste as the alcohol touched her tongue. Maybe she will be first.
„Oh! And on top of that-“
„Tara.“ Mindy said from her side but she only continued, she didn´t even notice the hand of her on her right shoulder.
„-he even-„
„Tara.“ Mindy said a little louder through the loud music that was playing in the house.
„Fuck Mindy what!“ Tara looked at her friend, raising her voice a little. She wasn´t angry at her, of course not and Mindy also knew that, but Tara had a short temper.
„Apollo at 9 o´clock.“
Tara turned pale. Her eyes widen and her body becomes stiff. She felt like she had forgotten how to breathe. What did she say? No, that can´t be. The only person they were calling Apollo was...
„Tara fucking turn around.“ Mindy said between her clenched teeth as she kept looking at the way she told her to look at.
Tara took a big breath trying to calm her beating heart and shot her eyes to the left. There was a group of friends chatting and laughing, they had beers and cups in their hands as they were standing by the side of the room so as not to disturb anybody.
She scanned the group and suddenly saw the familiar figure she had been so desperate to find these past weeks. You were standing there in your civil clothes and cup in your hand. Your bright smile could be seen from every spot of the room, smiling at your friends as you were talking about something, sipping on your drink.
„Tell me I´m not crazy.“ Tara´s eyes kept looking at you as if she was afraid you would disappear again. Her chest kept rising and falling at a fast speed.
„No Tara, you´re definitely not.“ Mindy may only see you from a photo but this was definitely you. You looked far better in a person than in a photo, she must tell.
The young Carpenter turned to Mindy with wide eyes and eyebrows raised. „Oh my God! Oh my God! What do I do?!“ she quickly looked at her clothes if they looked fine. „Do I look good? I don´t have anything between my teeth?“ she smiled widely showing her teeth Mindy to check.
„Stop Tara! Calm down.“ Mindy took her shoulders to make her look at her. „Okay okay stop right now. No, you don´t have anything between your teeth. You´re fine.“
Deep and slow breaths were the next thing she needed to do or she would have another attack and that would be pretty embarrassing. It was just you. Yeah, just the cute doctor who took care of her at the hospital. Yes, only you, as if you were someone special-
Of course, you were special! To her! She wanted to impress you so badly. The girl was always thinking about the ways she would meet you again, what would she say to you, what would she be wearing, and how she would impress you... She looked like a garbage at the moment.
Today Tara didn´t give a fuck about what would her clothes be or how she would style her hair. She just wanted to have a little fun from studying and enjoy the night with her friends.
She looked at your way one more time and your eyes met. You squint your eyes at the girl as if you were trying to remember something. She quickly turned her head to Mindy, a scared look swimming in her eyes.
„Mindy. She saw me.“
„And now she´s making her way here.“
„No, that can´t be real.“
„Oh yes, it is.“
„No no no no.“ Tara shook her head to left and right trying to put herself together. She wasn´t ready to face you. This is not how she imagined your second meeting.
„Hi.“ Mindy looked at you and greeted you back. She took Tara again by her shoulders and turned her to you.
„Hi.“ The short girl said as she was now looking at your pretty eyes. You were smiling at her like you were the first time you saw each other.
„I´m sorry I didn´t wanna disturb but... I think I know you.“ You now lowered your eyebrows a bit and kept scanning Tara´s face.
What? Do you know her? Oh my God, you remember! The girl´s heart started beating in her chest as she now realized that. You wouldn´t remember if she didn´t catch your attention, right? Right?!
„Uhm... I-“
„Oh! I know! You were in a hospital! I knew you were familiar.“ You smiled widely at her, you looked happy that you could remember after all a lot of people came through your hands every day.
Tara breathed out as she looked down. „Yeah,“ she laughed „you got me.“
„Oh, you okay now? You had any complications after?“ You kept asking her as you scanned her face and body, not in a disgusting way. But let´s be honest, Tara wouldn´t mind that either.
The shorter girl smiled softly, playing with her hands as she was softly swaying her body to the sides like a small child. „No no, everything has been fine since then.“ She smiled shyly at you. „Thanks again.“. You just shook your head like she had nothing to thank for. You were just too sweet.
Mindy offered you and your group to be with them and after the introduction, some went to drink more in the kitchen or went to the dance floor. The three of you along with some of your friends were sitting on a couch in a living room with drinks in your hands, talking and laughing at others' dancing skills.
You were so friendly and your friends too, Tara was looking at you the whole time, listening carefully every time you started speaking so none of the words could slip her. The Carpenter didn´t even notice how much alcohol she drank, guess it was because of the stress from your presence but as soon as she stood up, she could feel everything.
Oh no. Her mind was now spinning, „I´m going to the toilet.“ Mindy offered to go with her as she saw her friend's face. She was drunk.
„Oh my God, Mindy.“ These were the first words that left her mouth as she saw herself in a mirror. Her eyes were down and her face was all sweaty from the hot room and alcohol. Tara touched her cheek at the state and turned around to her friend. „I can´t go back looking like this.“ Her mind was spinning and she barely could control her legs. „I´m so fucked up.“
Mindy was behind her smirking, leaning against the bathroom door, clearly dunk as well. „Tomorrow morning will be fun.“ She laughed to herself, eyes closed from the sharp light of the bathroom.
„Hey! Are you even listening to me?“ Tara went to her but stumbled a little. Mindy laughed at her clumsy friend. She wasn´t as drunk as Tara, she could still walk normally. The only thing she was more giggling than usual.
„Come on, it´s fine. Or do you wanna leave Y/N?“ Mindy asked Tara. „Did you forget about how you were these couple of weeks?“.
Right. She can´t do that. She needs to get your number, at least that. They went to the group again but with each step they took the alcohol in their system could be felt more and more. Tara was now so drunk that she laughed at everything she saw. The girl sat beside you again but this time a little more closer than she was before, you turned to her and smiled at her. She giggled at you as she tilted her head a little.
You could see her cheeks were red and her eyes had fallen a little. Every time she was speaking her voice was really loud and her hands were everywhere around the place, even almost smacked you but you were quick to dodge it. Yep, she was drunk.
Tara´s mobile kept vibrating a couple of times but she only ignored that. It was Sam, she was worried about her because they agreed that Tara would inform her every now and then that everything was fine. The first time you caught the notification you wanted to warn Tara about it but then you saw it.
On her wallpaper was your photo from the hospital, the one with all of your colleagues. The photo was zoomed on your smiling figure, it was so cute you wanted to laugh but you couldn´t. You didn´t want to embarrass her so you played like you didn´t see that.
„So...“ Tara hiccuped as she leaned her hand on the back of the couch behind your head. You raised your eyebrows at her as you were trying to hide the smile from how drunk and cute at the same time she was. „How old are you?“ she kept looking into your eyes as if she was trying to seduce you but was cut by a hiccup again.
Laughing at her now you answered her question. „How old do I look?“
„I don´t know, you look really young to be a doctor. You are a doctor? Or you are a student? How old are you?“ Tara squints her eyes at you. You let out a laugh as you threw your head back at her words, closing your eyes in the process.
Tara was drunk smiling at you, showing her dimples. She didn´t know why you were laughing but it was because of her so she didn´t mind. In her head it meant victory. You wiped your unexisting tears and shook your head. „You are so drunk.“
„No, I´m not! Look I can drink more!“ she went to grab a cup that was on the table in front of the couch but you were quick to take it from her hand.
„Absolutely not, you had too much already.“ Tara wanted to argue with you about it but her thoughts were cut by your touch.
„You have really pretty hands. They are much bigger than mine, look!“ she compared your hands and yes, hers were really small.
„And your fingers are so long... I wonder how it would feel inside of-“
Mindy covered her friend's mouth from beside her. She kept listening to your conversation the whole time, making sure Tara wouldn´t say or do something she would be embarrassed about the next day. Something like this.
„Okay, I think we should head home.“ Mindy wanted to pull Tara on her legs but she didn´t want to stand up and leave you. She kept pouting as she sat a little more closer to you almost sitting at your tights.
„Come on, I will go with you.“ You stood up and gently took her hands to help her on her legs. She smiled like a kid and immediately did what you wanted her to do.
 You and Mindy were taking Tara to her home. Sam was now calling Mindy asking about her sister. She had the right to be mad, she let her go to a party under the condition of her texting her if she was alright.
As you were close to the apartment door Mindy left you two so you could be alone. Tara won´t remember it but Mindy for sure will and she will make sure her friend will pay back for this.
„We are already here.“ Tara whined and turned around to look at you as you now stood in front of her door. „I don´t wanna leave you, I wanna be with you.“ The girl hugged your neck as she put her head on your chest to stare into your eyes.
You laughed at her. „Don´t worry, I´m sure we will see each other again.“
„Do you wanna come inside?“ she smirked and dragged her finger around your shoulder, tilting her head to the side softly. The young Carpenter had clearly enough for today.
„You know I can´t Tara.“ You breathe out with a kind smile on your lips.
„I love it when you call my name, it sounds so different, and also your smile and your eyes and-“
The door from her home suddenly opened and there stood Sam. The three of you kept looking at each other shocked written on your faces, waiting till someone made the first move.
„Uhm... hey I´m Y/N, I don´t know if you remember me.“ You smiled kindly at Tara´s sister. She kept studying you a little, then it hit her. Yeah, you were the one from the hospital. You helped Tara and that was all she needed to know.
„Yeah, I remember.“ She then looked at her sister, slowly shaking her head. Tara´s arms were still around you, not caring that her sister could see everything. „Come on Tara.“
The short girl let out a whine not wanting to let you go. She tightened her grip on you and was now looking at you to save her from her angry sister. „You need to let go of me.“ Your voice was so soft, it was only convincing her to stay but your words said otherwise and she needed to listen to you.
Slowly pulling away from and with a point on her lips, eyes big as if you were saying that you will never see her again. You didn´t even leave and she missed you already. The girl just wanted to stay with you.
„Will I see you again?“ Tara asked as she was almost at her apartment looking for your answer. You nodded your head at her, shooting her one of your smiles with a wink.
„Okay... Goodnight.“ She said with a low voice, putting her head down and leaving you in a hallway. Sam turned to you and gave you a tight-lipped smile.
„Thanks for bringing her here.“
„It´s fine, she´s amazing.“ You looked from the way she disappeared to Sam. „I guess I will head home also. Goodnight.“ You waved at her and started to walk away.
The next morning couldn´t be worse. Tara woke up with a terrible headache and the urge to throw up, Sam was giving her silent treatment, Mindy kept teasing her about yesterday and she had no way of contacting you. Like she would do that, the girl was so embarrassed that she just wanted to bury herself deep into the ground.
Afternoon Mindy and Chad came, and they kept making fun of Tara and her flirting skills. Suddenly her phone rang signaling a new message.
Y/N:) :Heyy, hope you feel better
What? How did you get her number? It was really you?
„Mindy? How did you get Y/N´s contact into my phone?“ Her friend looked at her with a confused face. „Did you give her my number?“ Mindy shook her head, still looking muddled.
„Maybe she did it herself.“ She shrugged her shoulders. „At least you have her number finally!“
Yeah, at least something but when did you make it? Oh yeah, she probably left her phone on the couch when she went to the bathroom. But if you got your phone number into her phone that must mean...
„Oh God... please no.“ She put her head into her hands, covering her red face from embarrassment.
You saw that fucking wallpaper.
Taglist: @jensortega813 @isawxxp 🤍
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Text
30 / 1.1k / soap soulmate au, part 7
...
The minutes tick by. You're alone with your thoughts. It's worse than before. But what are you supposed to tell him? All but the smallest thing you could give him would lead his entire team to Captain Graves, and you... you can't do that. You owe him a debt.
The door slams open and Soap walks back in, looking tired and angry. Before you can speak, he grabs you by the arm, drags you out of your chair, and then he's kissing you, pressing you up against the wall. His hands are in your hair and on your hips, his hard body against yours, his teeth finding the place where your neck meets your shoulder.
Everything about it is possessive, angry, desperate. One hand slides around to your ass. The other weaves tighter into your hair, holding you tight between him and the wall, his hips grinding into yours.
"Thought I was gonna have to wait till you stopped being so damn stubborn. You were never going to tell me, were you?" His soft growl is low, heated, and hurt. "You’re always gonna keep this to yourself. Even if it means letting me go to my grave."
He pulls you away from the wall and pushes you into the metal interrogation table with enough force to put you on your back. He advances on you. Straddles you. His mouth is hot and he's not giving you time to think. He's taking what he needs because he wants it, he's tired of waiting for it, and he's finally got you where he wants you. His teeth on your throat have you arching your back. His grip is tight but you don't want to escape.
His fingers dig into you. "Will you even miss me?"
You open your eyes, jolting in place. A dream, it was a dream. You're still cuffed to this stupid chair. You're hot and wet and there's a horrible knot in your throat.
The door slides open. That's what woke you--activity outside. A few people filter into the weapons closet briefly to grab rifles and sidearms. They hardly spare you looks. They leave; the voices outside begin to fade and you hear an engine firing up. Muted panic rises in your gut. They're about to leave. Are they leaving you here? Is Johnny gone already?
Then the door rattles softly and Johnny's familiar shape slips in. He glances back out the door, watching for anyone who might’ve seen him slip in before he closes it. You release a breath through gritted teeth.
"Mornin’.” Soap is suited up, radioed, armed to the teeth. Looking every inch the soldier he is. Your heart sinks. You're in deep. No matter how this situation turns out, it's not good for you. Whoever wins, you lose.
Instead of taking the chair, he circles behind you. You rattle your cuffs as he leaves your line of sight.
"Change your mind?" he asks you.
"No."
He chuckles. "Thought not."
He bends closer. Your heart races. You half-expect to feel his hands--your dream flashes through your mind--but then, to your surprise, you hear the soft clink of metal on metal. He pulls on the cuffs. One falls away. Then the other.
You get to your feet, curling and uncurling your fingers. "Why are you letting me go?" you ask, voice still sharp. "I told you I'm not helping you."
Soap looks bemused. It's like you don't know how to stop being belligerent even when you're not a hostage anymore. "Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I’m under strict orders not to let you leave this room. But if you just so happen to vanish..." He holds up the key--the one he'd swiped from Ghost earlier. "That’d be fine with me.”
“What are you playing at?”
“There's a chance none of us will come back. Don't like the idea of you sittin' here like a rabbit in a trap for God knows how long." He holds out a neat little square of folded cash. When you don't take it, he reaches around and slips it into your back pocket. "There's a town four miles southwest of here. Set off in a half hour and you’ll get there before sundown. Take somethin' off the wall to protect yourself."
You stare at him, your frustration growing with every word he says. Why does he trust you enough to free you? Why? He knows very well you could pick up the first phone you see, call your Captain, and tell him everything. Hell, you could call Shepherd.
You tried your dead fucking best to show him who you are. Why doesn't he believe you? Does he think you're going to grab his hand and ask him to come with you--fuck the Shadows, fuck Las Almas, you know how to buy fake IDs and burner phones, you'll figure it out a day at a time?
Your throat tightens. You could obviously never say that. And if you did consider it, you'd bite your tongue because there's no way he'd accept. You have so much to gain from running away and he has too much to lose. He cares about his team too much.
He skims his gloved fingertips up your arm and goes to touch your cheek again, but then he hesitates and stops himself. You feel radioactive.
"How 'bout a kiss for the road?" he asks. He seems to decide on taking a strand of your hair and places it tentatively behind your ear. "Just in case."
Your hands tighten into fists. How dare he.
"Aw, c'mon. Don't make me walk away from you disappointed." He gives you a small, infuriating smile.
"If you want a kiss, then come back for it when you're done."
"Ah. Fair enough."
He brings his hands up to the sides of your face and presses his lips to your hairline anyway, leaning into you for a long, silent moment.
Then he's gone.
You sit cross-legged on that table for a long stretch of time, spinning in one hand the handcuffs that held you. You stare at that photograph and count the seconds. At thirty minutes, you set off, walking southwest.
...
part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / [part 7] / part 8 / part 9 / part 10
more Soap / masterlist tag
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giamee · 7 days
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𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍!
... aka something super self indulgent because i'm going insane right now
༊*·˚ featuring ➻ the hsr men
༊*·˚ gia's notes ➻ this is probably gonna get posted way after exam season is over but here it is!!! my coping mechanism!!! i have 3 exams in 8 days im gonna explode bro. and before that i had a THREE HOUR STATISTICS EXAM 😀😀
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ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 MAKES SURE THAT YOU SLEEP COMFORTABLY.
you've been running yourself into the ground recently with revision- yes, it's important and you need to study to get good grades, as he is more than aware of due to your multiple stressed rants to him when he suggests that you take a break.
it doesn't bother him, not really. he knows that you're beyond stressed right now and don't mean to be so snappy. he just wants to make sure that you're still taking care of yourself despite everything.
he's in your dorm room, not really making much noise, scrolling through reals with his phone on mute, just present to keep an eye on you and get you to take a break whenever it's been a little too long since you've moved from your desk.
it's some time where it's debatable whether it's very late or very early- both of your sleep schedules are fucked- and there comes a little thunk from your desk that interrupts the otherwise silent room.
your boyfriend glances up, smiling in triumph as he sees that you've finally succumbed to the nap that he's been trying to convince you to take for the past... 36 hours? something like that.
and now that your body has finally given in to exhaustion, he springs to action.
you'd been studying for days, you'd done more than enough for your upcoming exam, and a solid few hours of uninterrupted sleep is exactly what you need right now.
he slips off of your bed, his movements quiet and calculated as he sidles up next to you. your glasses are smushed against your face, and he gingerly removes them as gracefully as he can. you stir a little as he does so, and he grimaces, waiting for you to settle again.
it looked like you would wake up if he carried you to your bed- looks like he'll have to improvise.
he snags the fuzzy blanket folded neatly at the foot of your bed, wrapping it around your sleeping form still sat at your desk as best as he can. he then takes one of your smaller pillows, coaxing it between you and the solid wood of your desk as best as he can before admiring his handiwork.
hopefully, you wouldn't wake up with a stiff neck.
and finally, as a cherry on top, he places a kiss to your squished cheek and sits back down to let you take a well-deserved nap.
˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ BLADE, gallagher, BOOTHILL ++ your faves!
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 IS YOUR PERSONAL ASSISTANT WHILE YOU'RE STRESSING.
you don't have to lift a single finger when he's around. luckily for you, his exams finished a lot earlier this term than yours did, leaving him ample time to help you as much as he is capable of.
and what an attentive boyfriend he is! amidst all the stress, you can't help but swoon for him all over again because of how attentive he's being towards you. he just wants you to help you study and not worry about anything else!
if you're hungry, he'll have a plate of food ready for you before the request has even left your mouth. your back or neck is aching due to being hunched over? his strong hands are rubbing circles into the muscle, making you sigh contentedly as the stiffness melts away.
he's honestly like an angel in your time of need.
you feel guilty about how one-sided this all is, but he merely smiles, giving you a quick kiss and assuring you that he understands and just wants you to do well. you almost cried because of how sweet he was being.
once these exams are over, you're definitely going to make it up to him.
˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ GEPARD, jing yuan, sunday ++ your faves!
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ACTS AS YOUR TEMPORARY STUDY PARTNER.
despite not doing your degree, he's clever, and he knows enough without googling to help you out when you revise.
he's an advocate for the "teach someone about a subject until they understand it as well as you do" and luckily for you, he's all ears... and even if he does get some things a little quicker than your fried brain can explain, he still bites his tongue and plays a little dumb to probe you further with questions to test your understanding.
it'll help in the exam.
you've decided that this is way better than being cramped in a booth in the library- you have the freedom to wave your arms around and pace the room, to fully illustrate your thoughts and knowledge as he flips through the colourful flashcards that you made, reading the answers on the back of each of them, grilling you on the questions like a tiger mum.
he'll be damned if you don't get an A.
˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ dan heng, DR RATIO, welt ++ your faves!
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 DEFUSES YOU WHENEVER YOU'RE GETTING TOO STRESSED.
in the days leading up to your exams, it was best to describe your stomach as a pit of nerves. it was honestly distracting you from revising, all the pent up anxiety that churned within you until you were on the verge of a meltdown.
and while you may be too stressed to realise all of this and do something about it, your boyfriend's watchful eye realises this.
and so he does what he does best- he makes you feel better.
he pulls your body to rest against his where he lies in your bed, his large hand drawing comforting circles up and down your spine- and after a few minutes he can feel you melt into him, your body finally releasing the pent up stress that it's been holding for too long.
"it's ok to take a break, honey."
you sigh into him, and he hugs you tighter.
"c'mon, let's go outside for a few minutes. it'll help you feel a lot better."
you shake your head.
"you wanna just stay here for a bit?"
he feels you nod against his chest.
"ok, then let's do that."
˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ SAMPO, luocha, AVENTURINE ++ your faves!
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IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... do you want somebody like i want somebody?
the sweet and caring nature of the hsr men is also shown through them being your roommate <3
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sehnsuchts-trunken · 22 days
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What Happens in Cars, Stays in Cars
dbf!jake seresin x fem!reader 9k words
summary: After a month-long deployment, Jake is finally coming back home. Well, not home home. You're too desperate to wait until you've actually got him home. But who needs home when there's a perfectly good car anyway?
a/n: porn with plot. a lot of plot. and a lot of porn. 18+ obviously. reader is twenty-five in this, jake is forty-seven. as always, a list of things to watch out for:
nudes. mentions of masturbation. pet names used in an unholy way. the word 'brat' is dropped twice. safe sex (yess they still have a condom!!! i feel like i deserve a round of applause for not forgetting it). car sex, so a tiny smidge of exhibitionism. dom!jake. a lot of begging, as always. a tad bit dry humping. first finger sucking, then fingering. any more, uh....? i don't think so. there's not much space in a car for anything else.
top gun masterlist | dbf!jake seresin masterlist
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(the gif has nothing at all to do with the fic, but tell me that's not dbf!jake working out in his backyard knowing you're watching him istg)
It's a one time thing. That's what they told him. A one time thing.
He isn't supposed to do these anymore. He's supposed to be stationed permanently, sitting in his office and doing what an admiral does. Important work, surely. It's a high honour and he's proud, of course. But office work... Office work has never really been his thing. And if they'd deployed him for this mission four months earlier, he would've been thrilled.
He's the best of the best. The navy knows. He knows. Which is why he's an admiral by now. And also why they want him coaching the new hotshots for a month, halfway across the country.
And, yes, he would've been thrilled - four months ago.
Four months ago, when you'd not yet moved back home. Four months ago, when he hadn't yet met you. Four months ago, when he hadn't known what it was like to hold you, to touch you, to miss you.
His phone chimes and momentarily distracts him. It's not that he didn't mute it - he's standing in front of a bunch of twenty-something year olds who he does try to be a role model for - it's just that you'd tampered with it once and ever since then, you've had a personalised ringtone that still somehow works even when everything else is muted. (He could totally turn that off if he wanted to, though. Definitely. Ab-so-lu-tely. He just... doesn't.)
His jaw clenches and he has to restart his sentence, but other than that, he manages to pretend nothing happened. Nonetheless, he has to glare at the snickering wannabe-pilots in the first row, who remind him very much of a young version of himself.
You're three hours ahead of him and probably just got off work. It's likely nothing but a sweet "having a good day?" message or maybe a photo of you all dressed up, ready for dinner with your friends like you'd planned.
Either way, knowing your message is sitting unopened in your chat has him talking quicker. He finishes his lecture half an hour early and fishes his phone from his pocket before the first of his pupils have even got up from their seats - which turns out to be a horrible, horrible idea, because the photo attached to "don't know how long i'll stay out, have a nice night, admiral" with the winky face emoji is not one of you all dressed up for a night out with your friends, but one of you in just a pair of panties in front of the mirror. The mirror in his bedroom.
Fucking god-
He seems to let out some kind of choked up groan or something of the sort, because a few of his pilots turn to look back at him. One even has the audacity to ask if he's alright, which he certainly isn't. But that's absolutely not their problem.
So he grumbles something about how they should all use their free time to go to the gym instead of bothering him before he collects his things and flees to his room. One of the many advantages of being an admiral, of course, is that he doesn't have to bunk anymore, which is always the greatest nuisance for anybody who's ever looking for privacy. The times he's had to listen to guys jack off a foot away from him- fuck, the times they'd had to listen to him.
No, right now he is incredibly thankful for the privacy of his bedroom as he locks the door behind him and opens his phone again. Goddamn, why were you in his house? His fingers hover over the call button for a few seconds, but then he decides against it - you're going out with friends for the first time in months, he doesn't want to bother you.
He's popping the button of his jeans and sitting down on his bed right as you come online.
"Like the pictures, baby? I've got more"
And before he can even respond, you've sent a bunch more selfies, half of them in front of his mirror, the other half on his bed and none of them decently clothed. Fucking hell, in one you've got your fingers down your panties and Jake is really thankful for the privacy of his room then because he groans so loudly that a bunkmate would definitely have heard.
"Are you still at dinner?", he asks, his fingers flying over his keyboard while he tugs at his zipper with his left hand.
"Yeah, won't be home soon", you write back. "Sorry"
"Don't be", Jake responds, as quickly as he can, because he definitely does not want to make you feel bad for spending time with your friends. "Have fun"
"Have fun with the pics", you send. Jake can picture your grin, sitting all dressed up in a restaurant and ignoring your friends to text him. "Thought those could maybe make up for no phone call tonight"
He swallows hard as you log off, leaving him with those pretty pictures of yours that certainly improve his night by a lot. Hell, he's already moving his briefs out of the way and clicking on your photos again. Just seeing you half-naked in his room - fuck, the thought of you sneaking over there only to do a goddamn photoshoot... You're really unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. And he can't wait to get back home to you.
...
"I miss you", you mumble into the phone, blinking at the alarm clock on your nightstand. It's eleven thirty, not nearly late enough for you to feel as exhausted as you do.
"I miss you too, darling", you hear Jake drawl on the other end of the call. "I'll be back soon."
"Not soon enough", you whine - god, you sound pathetic and miserable to your own ears already, you must sound ten times worse to him. You let yourself fall back into your pillows and let out a deep sigh. "Would it be rude to say I hope the mission gets cancelled?"
Jake chuckles. Fucking hell, you miss that chuckle so much. You miss him so much. You miss cuddling up to him under the covers and tucking your head under his chin. You miss running your fingers through his hair and having your hands on him. You miss seeing him, standing in the kitchen or working out or tinkering in the backyard or fresh out of the shower. Shit, you even miss sneaking around with him, because at least then you'd gotten to watch him from a distance, maybe steal a kiss when your parents hadn't been looking or spend an night at his house pretending to be at your friend's.
Now he's halfway across the country and absolutely, completely out of reach. You'd barely gotten to see him at all - twice it had worked out to video-call during a lunch break, once he'd even managed to virtually show you around his office after work. The camera quality is hardly any good, of course, which means video-calls aren't all that great, plus the connection never seems to really be stable, so with a few exceptions, you've only seen Jake in pictures over the past two and a half weeks.
His deployment would take another one and a half and then, finally, he'd be back home. Back home with you.
"I won't answer that", Jake says, and you can almost hear him grin. "But I wouldn't mind either if they moved the mission up."
You have to bite down on your lip to hide a smile.
"So you think you're good to go?", you ask softly, not wanting to bring the mood down further, instead opting for the non-classified work questions. You've already been bringing down the mood enough back here at home - you don't need to fill the few minutes a day you get with Jake with your whining as well. Your parents already hear enough of that. Of course, they don't know why you've been in such a bad mood ever since Jake left. And they can't know, either. You can't tell them. You can't tell anyone.
You can't tell anyone because no one knows that you've been sneaking around with your dad's best friend for the past three months. So you resign yourself to moping around and keeping out of everybody's way as much as you can. For one and a half weeks more, one and a half...
...
Exactly one and a half week later you're standing at the airport in your best heels and a little yellow sundress and are positively buzzing with nervous energy. Jake's plane got in at half, he'd said, when you'd last spoken him six hours earlier. Then the plane had taken off and so had his wifi.
You're playing around with a strand of your hair and doing your hardest not to start chewing off your nails, which proves more difficult than you'd thought (even though you'd put on nail polish).
You're just so excited.
It's been a month since you'd last seen him. A month. And at the early stage of your... relationship, if you could call it that, that's basically half a year. God, how long it's been since you've run your hands through his hair, since you've felt his arms around you.
You miss him so much.
Your phone chimes and you fish it out of your pocket with trembling hands, only to be disappointed when it's not a message from Jake. It's not like you'd told him to text when he'd landed, just... A part of you is kind of scared you're waiting in the wrong place. Maybe he's on the other end of the airport - it's not a particularly small one. It'd take you hours to find each other if you were waiting in the wrong place.
Then again - maybe the plane is late. Maybe he's had to wait for his luggage.
You check the time, just to be safe. It's 11:46. For all you know, Jake is still in the air. Or less than a door away.
You bounce on your feet, nervously shifting back and forth before checking your phone again. The text you'd gotten is from one of your friends, who you text back only to distract you. It barely works anyway. You can't put it away again quickly enough.
It's not even that you don't want to distract yourself. You just physically can't pay attention. You've been a nervous wreck for the past three days, ever since you'd made the plan to pick him up from the airport. Which is probably why you almost don't spot him.
Almost.
He walks through the opened doors with his suitcase rolling behind him, his backpack slung over his shoulder and at least five other people rushing past him.
He sees you before you see him.
But then, then when you see him-
You're already sprinting towards him before your mind even tells your legs to move. You can't control it and you can't be bothered to. Why would you?
You don't care about the people glancing at you with raised eyebrows. You only care about Jake, about Jake who's standing there, pulling his hand from the handle of his suitcase and grinning at you. Grinning at you as you run at him and throw yourself into his arms.
He catches you effortlessly and steadies you as you cross your hands behind his neck and press your lips to his.
God, how you've missed him! How long you haven't kissed him!
His palms flatten against your back and he holds you tight, so tightly to him. You push even closer. He's here. He's back.
You don't realise you're crying until you taste the tears.
That's when Jake pulls back.
"I've missed you", he mutters, raising a hand and brushing the tears off your cheeks. You lean into the touch and tighten your arms around his neck. You're really touching him. He's really here.
"I missed you too", you try to say, but you're choked up and crying and it somehow comes out a blubbering, stuttering mess that you're not quite sure Jake can even understand. "Missed you so much."
He smiles one of those gorgeous smiles that you haven't seen in far too long before he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. His breath mingles with yours as he draws you in again and catches you in another kiss, tugging gently at your bottom lip as if he has all the time in the world to do it - slow and languid and real. Finally real again.
He pulls you in by your waist, his hands splayed wide and so, so big against your thin sundress. Your nails scratch against his neck and he lets out a groan and suddenly, he's got his hands on your thighs and you're wrapping your legs around his middle and tightening your arms around him and his lips are working against yours feverishly, heavily, messily. You're crossing your feet behind his back when one of them hits something hard. You've flinched away from him even before you can hear the dull crash of his suitcase kissing the airport floor.
There's blood rushing in your ears and you're sure if someone measured your heart rate right now, you'd be sent to the ER immediately. You probably look like a tomato with all the redness in your cheeks. But Jake stares at his suitcase silently for two seconds too, breathing heavily as his grip on you tightens further.
As much as he likes having you in his arms, his suitcase reminds him that you're still very much in the middle of a well-used airport. So he turns back to you and lowers his voice.
"I think we should get out of here, darling."
Your lips tug up into a grin and you lean in to give him just one last, quick kiss.
"Yeah", you breathe, carefully jumping back down onto your own feet. Jake lets go of you only reluctantly - if this wasn't a public airport, he'd never have let you go again. But it is, so he swallows hard as you brush your palms down your dress and blink up at him with a smile.
You're wearing heels. You're still shorter than him by quite a bit.
His amusement melts into a frown when you grab the handle of his suitcase.
"I've got that", he says, reaching his hand out to take the suitcase from you, but you're already maneuvering it away from him and starting to walk in the direction (you think it's the right direction) you'd parked your car in.
"I want to do it for you", you hum.
"Sweetheart, you're already doing enough for me", he says, and he really does mean it. You've driven all this way to come pick him up, you'd watered his plants while he'd been away, you'd even cleaned. That one mostly because you'd desperately needed something to do and Jake's house had always smelled like him, but still.
"Doing enough to you, you mean." Your grin borders on lewd as you dig your teeth into your lip.
"Yeah, that too", he sighs, but he has to grin as well. You're absolutely unbelievable. Instead of trying to argue (he knows it'd be fruitless anyway), he wraps an arm around your back and pulls you into his side, his hand resting on your waist again.
You glance at him.
"I'm not letting go of this suitcase", you warn, even as you lean into his side and swallow. God, he looks so good. And he smells so good. And he feels so good.
"Got it", he chuckles, brushing a kiss to your temple and pulling you even closer into him. He can't have you close enough. Does this fucking airport not have an end? He just needs a little more privacy, a little more space-
"This way", you say and point right. Jake smiles at you as you guide him down the halls. He can't help but watch, can't help but stare at you, at your dress in that soft shade of yellow and your matching heels. Autumn doesn't seem to have caught up with you yet. Then again - autumn hasn't caught up with this place yet. And he's used to Texas heat, he likes that it doesn't get cold here. Also, those sundresses... Yeah, he certainly isn't complaining about the weather.
You speed up when you finally catch sight of the doors, dragging him along with you, almost falling into a jog. The suitcase rumbles against the airport floor, the wheels click-clacking over uneven ridges and bumps and then, thank god, you feel the sunshine on your skin. His hand tightens around your waist.
"Home sweet home", you grin as you take the first step onto concrete. You swivel around and steady both palms against the handle of his suitcase behind your back, bouncing on your heels and looking up at him. "After about a three hour drive."
Jake chuckles and looks back at you with raised eyebrows.
"You'll drive?", he asks. You hum.
"Maybe", you grin as you turn away again and walk over to your car, parked only three rows away for whatever holy reason. You'd been incredibly lucky. And you'd almost run over a grandma. "Or maybe not."
Jake follows you with another low chuckle that sends a pleasant tingling sensation down your spine. It's been so long since you heard that chuckle behind you.
He's next to you again within a few long strides, reaching out for you and you slow your steps to intertwine your fingers with his.
His hands are so big. He's holding onto you so firmly. Fuck, you've missed him so much.
You squeeze his hand and walk a little quicker. Car, home. Car, home. That's it. Then you've got him all to yourself. You can see the car glinting in the sunlight already - and then it's three hours. Three hours next to him in an enclosed space before you've truly got him back.
You stop and let go of his suitcase to fish the car keys out of your pocket without dropping his hand. You push the unlock button and open up the trunk before you turn to Jake and grin at him.
You want to say something, really. It's on the tip of your tongue, still running through your mind, but you've completely forgotten it when you look up at him.
Because while you'd been dragging him to the car, he'd pulled his sunglasses out and put them on and for whatever reason... That kind of does it for you. Holy shit.
"Are those new?", you ask hoarsely and swallow hard, the car keys digging into your palm as you tighten your fist around them. Maybe it's just that you haven't seen him in a month. Or maybe it's the way the sunlight catches his hair, slightly longer than when he'd left. Maybe it's just that with the sun behind him, you've got no choice but to squint at his broad shoulders.
"The other pair broke", Jake explains, letting go of your hand only to wrap his arms around your waist. Fuck, you're just standing there, doing absolutely nothing and he already can't keep from touching you. He has to touch you. He's got to put his arms around you and pull you close. "Why? Don't like it?"
You steady your palms against his chest and let out a breath as your eyes drop to his lips - he's got that cheeky look on his face that's not really a grin but not really not a grin and that nobody but him can do.
"I do", you counter, because it's the truth, and there's no way you can lie to him. "I very much do."
"Very much?" Jake does grin then, raises his eyebrows and pulls you fully against him. "That's more than just a yes."
Your fingers fist his shirt, the car keys digging into his chest just as firmly as they're digging into your palm now. He doesn't seem to be too bothered. He really isn't too bothered.
"They look good on you", you mutter, pulling him even closer. It's been too long since you'd pulled him close... And he feels so good, smells so good, looks so good. Fuck, he's so big and broad and-
"Thanks", he mutters, his grin all cheeky and self-assured and god, is it really this hot? Do you just feel this hot? Because you feel really, really hot. Your skin is burning. How the hell are you supposed to manage a three hour car ride?
"Jake", you whimper, without even meaning to. It's barely above a breath, barely above a whisper, and still too much of a whine to sound anything close to appropriate. A sort of grunt leaves his lips before his arms tighten around you, before he slots his mouth over yours hard. His thumbs drag circles against the small of your back, catching on the fabric of your dress. Your fingertips dig into his shirt, into his chest.
The sun beams down on you, warming your thighs and your arms and every exposed inch of skin, brightness behind closed eyelids as you push further and further into him. He's so sturdy, all hard abs right in front of you, broad arms around you.
You don't even notice the breathless moan that escapes your tongue. You can only feel the heat boiling inside of you, the desperate heat inside of you crawling up your body, every inch of you burning. Burning with want for him. With need for him. Fuck, he's been gone for way too long.
And then he pulls back.
You need a few seconds to even blink yourself back to reality.
"Home?", he suggests, even though it's less of a suggestion and more just a fact. He's getting you home. Now.
"Please", you whine, already halfway through pulling back and dropping the car keys into his palm. Three hours. Three fucking hours, you... You simply won't manage to sit down behind the steering wheel with your skin crawling and your underwear soaked through.
You'll barely manage sitting in the passenger seat.
Jake presses another kiss against your temple before he grabs his suitcase and leaves you standing there, trying to pull yourself together. He's breathing hard and his muscles are tight, his jaw clenched as he heaves his suitcase into the trunk and drops his backpack into it right after.
You force your legs to work, to carry you to the passenger side, force your arm to raise and your hand to close around the handle. It's heavy and hard work. Your body feels leaden, entranced. You let yourself collapse onto the seat and close your eyes.
Fuck.
You'd forgotten how much... how easily...
"Seatbelt, darling", Jake reminds you as he climbs into the driver's seat and adjusts it. You swallow hard and strap yourself in, trying to even out your breathing and pull yourself back to reality while you fumble for the confirmative click.
"Three hours", you remind yourself breathily.
"Three hours", Jake agrees lowly and turns the key in the ignition.
You settle back in your seat and close your eyes, clenching and unclenching your jaw as the radio starts playing and the car rolls out of the parking lot. You just have to relax. Just relax. Relax.
So you breathe out deeply and open your eyes again. Jake glances over at you as you lean forward, flick through the radio channels and then adjust in your seat - it's touching too much, too little of your skin, and the way you're rubbing against it somehow doesn't help in the slightest.
Before you can tuck one of your legs under the other and press the heel of your foot against your core, Jake puts his hand against your thigh. Against your bare thigh. His big fucking hand against your bare thigh.
You bite down on your lip and look up at him.
God, he looks so good. His features are chiseled, his hair that sunny, beachy kind of blond-
"Stop that", Jake grunts, his eyes trained on the road in front of him. It takes you two seconds to even realise he's talking to you. You'd kind of lost yourself in staring at him there.
"Stop what?", you ask, voice hitching as his fingers tighten on your thigh. Damn it, he needs to stop that. He's hardly been driving five minutes, he can't already be teasing you.
For once, actually, he doesn't even mean to tease you - not that you know. He just can't help but touch you, not when he hasn't touched you in a month, not when you're sitting so deliciously, tauntingly next to him.
"Stop looking at me like that", he says, taking his hand off of you to change gears before grabbing even tighter onto you again. "Or I'll have to pull over."
You brush your fingers along his wrist. Your chest feels tight, so tight. It takes everything in you not to push his hand further up your thigh. And you'd actually thought you'd manage a three hour car ride.
"I'll stop", you breathe, even though pulling over doesn't seem like the worst idea. "If you want me to."
A muscle twitches in his jaw.
"Don't do that", he warns, his voice staggering into that indecent gruff of his that has you clenching your thighs together, trapping his fingertips between your legs.
"Don't do what?", you ask, trying your best to sound somewhat innocent while you continue this little taunting game, not as though you're deliberately riling him up. You aren't, really. It's more just a reflex.
He turns his head to you then. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw is clenched and honestly, the way he's meeting your gaze all serious, as though he's trying to reprimand you just by looking at you - for no more than five seconds, of course, before he drags his eyes back to the road - has your lips tugging up in a teasing grin.
"Jake", you whisper, drawing your nails slowly up his arm, all the way from his wrist to his elbow. "Baby. You've been away for so long. You know how lonely I've been, right?"
Jake glances at you again and grunts his agreement, eyebrows raising as he starts to realise what you're doing.
"You can't blame me for looking at you", you go on, digging your fingertips into a spot right above his elbow and drawing one, two circles there. "Or for touching you."
Then you shift in your seat, spread your legs a little and run your fingers down his arm again. You grab his hand and brush his fingertips against the soaked spot on your panties.
"Or for being this wet", you whisper, your breath hitching from the sting in your stomach. He lets out a low curse. "I've just missed you so much."
He sucks in a breath then and trails his fingertips up your panties once, just once, before he jerks his hand back and clenches it hard around the steering wheel, so hard that his knuckles turn wide. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! You're driving him crazy. You're driving him fucking crazy.
He's supposed to be responsible here. Somewhat responsible. You're young, you've got that risky twinkle in your eyes that he knows so well because he'd seen it in the mirror himself for over twenty years. He knows the thrilling buzz that's running through your veins. He still feels it whenever he's in the air. And he feels it around you.
Which is why he's not responsible, not when it comes to you. Not when you're sitting next to him in that pretty dress, with no shorts on and completely fucking soaked through.
You grin to yourself as he pulls off the highway and bite down on your lip, shifting in your seat once more, fighting the urge to trail your own fingers into your panties.
You haven't even asked how his deployment had been.
But goddamn, you'll have enough time to do that once you've got home. Or got off. Or got him off. At this point, you don't fucking care.
He pulls into one of those parking lots that mainly trucks use, one of those where there's hardly ever a toilet and if, then one that hasn't been usable since the last century. Right now, there's two trucks right at the front that Jake just brushes past. He parks your car at the far end and turns the motor off.
The silence is heavy.
Your breath comes much too quickly. Your eyes are fixed on him. And every inch of your skin is crawling with heat. But you don't move. You can't move.
He rolls his seat all the way back.
"Jake-", you whisper, catching on his name when he looks up and meets your eyes. There's a ghost of a grin on his lips, but... Maybe you're wrong.
"Yes, darling?", he asks, raising his eyebrows and leaning back in his seat. You have to strain your neck to keep looking at him. Instead of an answer, you just softly shake your head. You're suddenly unsure of what to say. His eyes weigh you down. You're painfully aware of every inch of your skin under his watchful gaze.
"Come on", he drawls, the grin that's growing on his lips more obvious now. "You were all eager to talk just then, baby."
Your teeth catch on your lip as you let out a breathless sigh. Your fingers hover over the buckle of your seat belt. Can you? Or...
"I missed you", you whisper, letting your fingertips glide over the hard plastic. "Can I-"
You swallow.
"Can you what, darling?", he repeats, grinning widely now.
You chew on your lip as you push down and unbuckle yourself slowly, your eyes still trained on Jake, who simply watches you with raised eyebrows.
"Can I touch you?", you whisper, your breath disappearing into the thick air of the car, the seatbelt still caught between your fingers. The corners of his mouth only tug up further.
You look angelic with your wide eyes and rosy cheeks, so obviously desperate to feel him - but still you don't move. You sit there and wait for him to tell you what to do. To allow you to do something. Anything. It's almost endearing how well behaved you are in moments like this.
"Go on, darling", he drawls. "Come here."
Without hesitation, you reach over the centre console and grab onto his shoulders, steadying yourself against him as you throw one of your legs over his and climb into his lap. His hands find your waist, grab onto your sides, hold you softly against him. Your teeth dig into your lip as you sink down, your fingers trailing along the outline of his collarbones over his shirt, your dress riding up and pooling around your hips. You suck in a breath when your panties drag against his jeans.
Fuck. It's been so long. It's been way too long.
"Jake", you mutter as you lean in, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, brushing your nose against his cheek. "You look good."
He lets out a breathy chuckle, his grip on you tightening.
"I know, darling", he can't help but say with a grin. "Thanks."
You giggle onto his skin as you trail your lips down his jaw. Sometimes he's incredibly unbelievable. I know. How cocky. Not that he shouldn't be - goddamn, he should be! You can't even fault him. And confidence is sexy. Especially on him. Though, then again, anything on him is sexy.
"I've missed you", you mutter, pressing another open-mouthed kiss against his skin, this time against the spot between his neck and his ear. "Missed looking at you. Missed touching you."
"Yeah", Jake breathes, digging his hands into your hips and pulling you harder onto him. "I've missed you too."
He's missed you so fucking much that he's hurting, straining against his jeans so hard that he feels like he might combust. And you're kissing down his throat, pressing your lips against his skin, wanting, needing to touch him, to feel him-
A month away from each other. A month too long.
"I need you, Jake", you whimper into his ear, all breathy and desperate, rocking softly back and forth in his lap and letting your eyes fall shut.
"You need me, baby?", he echoes, grabbing you as tightly as he can and dragging you against him, his head thumping back against the driver's seat.
A filthy moan slips past your lips as your hips roll against his, finally, for the first time in weeks. Fuck, yes, you need him so badly. You need him now. Here and now, in the passenger seat of your car.
"Please, Jake", you breathe, steadying one palm against his chest and grabbing one of his hands with the other. You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug it off of you, but before you can drag it down to your panties again, drop it between your legs and beg him to fuck you, before you can do any of that, he's turning your grip around and taking your hands in his instead.
"You're getting ahead of yourself, baby", he chuckles, before settling your hands against your thighs. He's painfully hard by now, yes- But that doesn't mean you can just drag him to where you want him. "Seems like you forgot your manners."
You're already shaking your head before he can finish. No, you haven't, you haven't, you just need him so badly... and you can feel him, you can feel that he needs you too, so why doesn't he just take you? Why doesn't he-
"I haven't, Jake, I promise", you whisper, looking at him and forcing yourself to still on his lap. It won't help you if you move. It definitely won't help you if you move.
"You haven't?", he asks with raised eyebrows, looking all but amused at you. You keep shaking your head no, no, no. "So if I'd told you to stay in your seat and wait, you would've?"
You bite down on the inside of your cheek and look away. He's grinning. He knows. He's not even really asking. But if you'd learnt anything, anything at all about him, it's that he doesn't like to be ignored. If he asks a question, he wants it answered. So you'll answer.
"No", you breathe truthfully, because you most definitely wouldn't have managed a three hour car ride next to him. There's no way you would've managed a three hour car ride next to him. No fucking way.
His grin widens.
"No", he repeats lowly. "No, darling? You wouldn't have listened?"
"Couldn't", you correct, fighting the desire to rock against his thighs that's growing with every passing second. He looks so fucking good. He smells so fucking good. He feels so fucking good. And he'd fuck you so good, you know that, if he'd just finally get to it.
"Couldn't", he echoes, his fingertips rubbing circles onto the bare skin of your thighs. "That desperate."
It's just that he's that desperate, too. Desperate to feel you wrapped around him, desperate to hear you whimper and moan. He needs you as much as you need him.
"You want me to fuck you, baby?", he asks, all smooth and casual and your fingers dig into your thighs to feel something, anything. It's unbelievable how easily something so dirty slips off his lips.
"Yes", you gasp. "Want you so bad, Jake. Please. I'll be so good for you. I'll be perfect."
A muscle ticks in his jaw.
"You are perfect", he breathes, even though that hadn't been his plan at all. But he has to say it. He has to tell you. You've got him wrapped around your little finger, even if you don't know. And he's not all that sure you don't know anyway.
Your teeth catch on your lip, your hands dig harder into your skin and-
And Jake's thumbs trail along the inside of your bare thighs, brushing up naked skin, drawing a shallow breath from your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as you clench your legs around his and force yourself to keep still. He's touching you. You have to remind yourself of that. He is touching you. There's no reason at all for the urge to defy him, to pop open his jeans and just sink down on him. He's touching you, he's touching you...
Yeah. Barely.
"Let me feel you", you beg, drawing your hands away from your thighs and trying to put them against his chest - but before you can, he's pulled his hands away from your thighs as well and grabbed your wrists. Again.
"You're not in charge here, darling", he chuckles, pushing your hands back down. He grabs for your waist again. "If you can't behave, I'm gonna put you back in the passenger seat and keep on driving, got that?"
You nod.
You want to be good for him. You will be good for him. God, there's no fucking way you could have managed the car ride already, and if you had to sit through it now, after this- No. You'll be good for him. You'll be so good for him.
He flashes you a grin and goes back to dragging his thumbs along your thighs.
"Ask nicely", he says. "Maybe I'll-"
"Please", you blurt out, your hips involuntarily bucking into his touch. "Can I kiss you?"
His eyes drop down to your mouth then.
"Yeah, baby", he mutters, his thumbs catching on the hem of your dress. "You can kiss me."
He expects you to jump at him, to slot your lips over his and lick into his mouth eagerly - but you only steady your palms carefully against his chest and lean in, your eyes focused on his, your breath meeting his skin. You kiss him softly, lightly, with your lips just so grazing his and your eyes fluttering shut. His fingertips run down the soaked spot on your panties.
That's when your teeth catch on his lip. You sink them into his skin gently and tug, your heart missing a beat as he groans into you. He hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them to the side just like you'd hoped, just like you'd begged for.
Jake's right - you're not in charge. But that doesn't mean you don't know what buttons to push to get what you want.
His fingertips trail through your wetness for the first time in a whole fucking month. It's long overdue. So long.
You moan into him, pressing your chest right up against his and fisting his shirt, and push closer. You need to be this close. You need to be even closer. You need him to fuck you, now, not only to drag his fingers up to your clit.
But he's too focused on you, getting too drunk on the feeling of you. He's finally got you here again, finally on his lap again, finally kissing him again, finally eager for him again. He's finally touching you again. And he has to touch you.
You're so fucking wet. You're soaked. He wants to take his time to notice that. He needs to take his time to notice that. He needs to touch you, to feel you. He doesn't even mean to tease you. He doesn't even realise he is teasing you. Not until you rock into his hand and let a whine slip into his mouth.
You really don't intend to. It's an accident. You don't want to rush him. What you want is to be good for him. But you can't help yourself.
And he knows you can't.
Which is the only reason he doesn't pull back and leave you high and dry. Well, that - and his desperation to have you.
So instead, he pushes two fingers into you and catches the languid moan you let out. Fuck. You sound so sweet. You feel so perfect. It's been so fucking long.
"Jake", you whimper, just because it's also been that fucking long since you've whined his name into his mouth. Into the low-quality mic of your phone, yes. But with his lips on yours? With his fingers thrusting inside you so precisely, hitting the right spot immediately? No, that's been too fucking long.
It's dirty. Not quick, like the other times neither of you had been patient enough to look for a better spot to have each other and had opted for the car instead. No, it's just dirty, with his fingers pumping in and out of you, his tongue running along yours and your knees rubbing against the seat.
Maybe it's because the radio had turned off alongside the car, or maybe it's just the long month you'd spent apart - either way, all sounds are louder than they should be, your ears ringing with your moans, your wetness around his fingers and his lips against yours.
Goddamn.
He's working magic. You don't know how he hits the right spot again and again and again, his fingers curling, his thumb catching on your clit - but he has you clenching around him, warmth pooling in your core, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto his jeans within minutes.
You pull an inch away from him, your eyes still squeezed shut, your palms flattening against his shirt, and the only reason he knows he isn't just dreaming of you again is because you're warm and wet around his fingers. Everything else about you is unreal.
You're gorgeous. You're so damn stunning, rocking your hips back against him and moaning his name, your lips parted and your skin sweaty.
"Fuck", you pant, your chest rising and falling so tantalisingly that his eyes drop right down to your cleavage. "Just like that."
He has to grin to himself, but he lets it slide, if only because you're looking so pretty holding onto him as he pushes his fingers into you and circles your clit - just like that. Again and again, until you're digging your nails into his chest and catching your lip between your teeth and moaning his name, Jake, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck, until you're clenching around him and shuddering in his arms, until you're reaching your high on his fingers, not on your own for the first time in four full weeks.
"Attagirl", he mutters, straining so hard against his pants that it hurts. "I've got you."
You press your lips against his jaw sloppily as you come down, your breath shallow, your skin burning, just needing to get your mouth on him. You can feel your heart beating, every thud, thud, thud against your chest. God. You hadn't come like that in a month. You'd come, sure, to the low rumble of his voice over the phone, calling you all sorts of sweet names and telling you just how to get off for him. But nothing could ever possibly beat the way he works you.
And still - even as you come down from your orgasm, you already crave the next, long and lust and hunger for him inside of you, not his fingers, but his cock.
"Jake", you mewl, slotting your lips over his and desperately dragging your tongue over them before you draw back an inch, your breath meeting his. "Fuck me? Please?"
He pulls his fingers out of you and raises his hand and before you can even really realise what you're doing, you're parting your lips and watching as he grins and presses his fingertips down on your tongue. God, he fucking tastes like you. You suck his fingers into your mouth obediently and lick them clean, looking at him out of lowered, half-lidded eyes and he fucking grabs at your waist with his other hand like his life depends on it.
Goddamn, it's been too long since he's watched this. Since he's had this sight in front of him. And holy mother of hell, what a sight that is.
Your cheeks hollowed out, your gaze caught on his, your lips wrapped around his fingers. His jeans are too tight. Too fucking tight. He needs relief. Now.
So he pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a low grunt and fumbles with the button of his jeans, quick and hurried. He's barely popped it open before your hands slip between his and push them out of the way. You drag down his zipper, reach into his briefs, finally, finally, finally! and he lets you, steadying his palms against your thighs and watching you tug your lip between your teeth.
"Condom", you breathe, then you glance up at him and blink - once, twice, thrice to get yourself back to reality. Condom. Condom, fuck, you're sure you've got one, you know you've got one, somewhere-
Jake takes his hand off your thigh and reaches for his pocket, pulling out a condom before you've even finished thinking.
You grab it from him almost reflexively, your fingers closing around it, tearing it open - quick and frenzied now, because you're not sure how much longer you can hold out. How much longer you can manage without having him.
You glance up at him before you roll it onto him, waiting, checking, if you can, if he'll let you- And how could he not? Fuck, he's got to clench his jaw and grab onto your waist just to hold back, to stay still. He hadn't meant for it to be like this. He'd meant to fuck you back at home, slow and steady, preferably in bed where he could really see you, where he could see every inch of you, not in the front seat of your car that he'd probably have to get cleaned tomorrow. But he can't fucking help himself. He can barely fucking wait until you've rolled the condom onto him, already grabbing at your bare thighs, slipping his hands below your dress, grasping at your stomach.
You steady your palms against his chest and breathe out a whine as his fingers slide across your boobs, pushing the fabric of your dress up, up, up, circling your nipples, hardened and sensitive and damn, you've missed him. You've missed him so fucking much. It's been so fucking long. And you're so fucking desperate.
So you slowly sink down on him and let out a moan, rolling off your tongue so filthily he has to groan. Shit, shit- You hold yourself against him, drop your head against his shoulder and an open-mouthed kiss onto his skin.
"Fuck", he grunts, his fingers working frenzied circles onto your boobs, trying, desperately, no, needing to touch you, to feel you. God, you feel so good around him. Finally around him again. You take your time sinking down on him, catching your breath and pressing your lips against his neck, your eyes squeezed shut. Inch by inch, you take him - and the only way he can keep from bucking up into you is by trying not to concentrate on the way you feel around him (so, so fucking perfect), but instead do his best to breathe. Just... breathe. It's been too fucking long. And you're too fucking pretty. And he'll go fucking crazy.
"Jake", you mewl, your lips dragging against his jaw.
Instead of an answer, he turns his head and catches you in a kiss.
You whine into his mouth, your legs clamping around his, stilling as you adjust, your tongue running along his lips, his teeth, your hands fisting his shirt, clenching and cramping and pressing against his chest.
"Go on", he urges, pulling away no more than an inch, his breath shallow, mingling with yours. "Take what you want, darling."
"Fuck", you breathe, arching into his palms and steadying yourself against him, your teeth catching on your lip as you move - up, slowly, steadily, then down, faster, quicker, and again, and again. Holy hell. Moan after moan rolls off your tongue. He feels so fucking good. You're so fucking full of him. You find a rhythm, then that spot inside of you. Your head tilts back, your fingers clench into the collar of his shirt, your nails scratch against his skin.
He watches you, every inch of him tensing. You're gorgeous, so damn gorgeous, bouncing in his lap like this. You're stunning, your dress pooling around your hips as he drags his hands back down to your waist, thumbing at your stomach, circling and drawing against your skin. He's touching you. Now, here. It's not just a dream. It's not just his imagination. It's you, you, wrapped around him, moving up and down him, your palms against his chest, your eyes fluttered shut, your teeth digging into your lip.
"Just like that, keep going", he encourages, all low and deep, smooths his hands down your body and can't help but grin as you let out a soft mewl. It's been so long since he's heard you whine for him - so long since he's heard it without hundreds and hundres of miles between you, without the microphone ruining what have to be the sweetest sounds he's ever known. "Feeling good, baby?"
The air is heavy, heavy and sticky. It presses down on you, pushes against your skin, settles on your body and flattens your breath. Every single one of your nerve ends is on fire.
"Yes", you gasp, your eyes fluttering open to take him in, him in all of his very, very real glory right in front of you. He looks so handsome, so fucking handsome. Your thighs tighten, clench. You can feel yourself growing closer and closer and closer with every stroke, with every time you sink down on him. Fuck, he doesn't just feel good, he feels heavenly. He feels like everything you need. "So good, Jake."
The grin on his lips sends sparks through your body. It's confident, self-assured... Yeah, you're on top of him, you're moving, you're taking what you want - but he's in charge, you can see it in his eyes. He's in control. It's in the way he breathes, in the way his hands grab at your hips, in the way he palms at your skin. If it weren't for the red on his cheeks, for the sweat beading on his forehead, you wouldn't even have guessed he's all that affected. But he's hard, he's hard as a rock, and it's taking everything in him not to just buck up into you and come right on the spot.
He prides himself on his stamina. In all his years, he's always prided himself on his stamina - on how he can keep going long enough to make you come twice, thrice. And he'll hold out now, too.
But you're gorgeous. And you feel perfect. And you're close, you're clenching around him as you lean in to press your lips to his, to slot your mouths together and kiss him with all your might.
So you're not making it easy for him. Not at all.
He brushes his hand down to the inside of your thigh, leaves a trail of tingles on your skin before his finger finds your clit. You breathe out a whine that he easily catches on his tongue, your nails digging into his chest as he draws circles on your clit, on that sensitive bundle of nerves that has you melting, your eyes squeezing, squeezing, squeezing shut.
Fuck, fuck, you're close, you're close-
Just for a fleeting second, Jake debates pulling his hand away again and leaving you there, on this edge you're teetering on. Not forever, only until you'd got home or so. But he's too desperate to come, too wound up already, too close himself, and there's a much bigger part of him that wants to just fill you up in the driver's seat of your car, in this random parking lot, a month after he'd last had you. The part of him that will revel in knowing that you'll be sitting in the passenger seat for the next three hours with soaked panties, probably leaving behind a wet patch when you'll get out, the evidence of two orgasms right there-
"Fuck, Jake", you gasp and your head rolls back, your lips parting as your entire body clenches, every single muscle cramping and tightening at once, your nails digging hard and harder into his skin, your eyes squeezing shut. His finger on your clit doesn't still, just keeps drawing circles, keeps guiding you through your high, through the foggy haze you're swimming in as your body writhes and tingles.
Jake is too entranced, too enamoured, too captivated by you to even realise he's spilling inside the condom, coming as you do. He can't feel, can't see, can't touch anything but you - his hand grabs at your hip, it palms at your thigh. Anything to feel you. Anything to be with you as you unravel.
"Jake, fuck", you breathe, a lot more softly now. Your grip on him loosens. He'd barely noticed how your nails had still been digging into his chest, but now that you're pulling them away, stretching your fingers and steadying your palms flat against him, he can't help but miss them. You blink at him with the sweetest smile, your lips plush and kiss-swollen, and the view of you is so disarming that he can just so resist opening his mouth and letting those final three words roll off his tongue. But it's too early, it's way too early, even as you're sitting in his lap, even as you're squeezing his cock, even as he draws his finger away from your clit. He's never been the type to say it early. He won't now.
No, instead he raises his hand and rests his fingers against your lips. Once more today, you part them obediently and wait until he's pushed them onto your tongue. Then you close your mouth around them - he still tastes of you faintly - and suck, slathering them in saliva in that sloppy, messy, dirty way you know he likes, your head bobbing as you clean them off. You pull back just far enough to dig your teeth into his fingertips and bite down on them playfully.
Your lips tug into a grin as he draws his hand back, eyebrows raising, his gaze settling on you - still so very heavy, so intense, so fucking full of sex.
"You're a brat, darling", he chides, but he's already brushing strands of hair out of your face, tucking them behind your ears and then wrapping his arms around you to pull you even closer, even tighter to him. Your grin only grows as your fingers clench into the collar of his shirt.
"Maybe", you laugh breathily, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, one that's so addicting he thinks he might need to stay in this car, in this parking lot for the rest of eternity. "But you love it."
Jake chuckles as he chases after your lips.
"Such a brat."
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pinkflower2003 · 17 days
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Finding Our Way Back Home
Max Verstappen x Horner!Reader
Part 1
A/N - a lot of asks for a part two of this one! I hope i'm somewhat done this justice, i might do some more parts of Otto and Max bonding and Y/N and Max finding their way back to each other, let me know if that would be something you'd want to see!
Send in your submissions<3
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Max watched you walk away, his heart in his throat. Otto Max Horner. The name echoed in his mind, a name he never knew he had a part in giving. He had wanted to reach out, to stop you, but the words got stuck, his emotions a tangled mess. He had spent years convincing himself that he had made the right choice, that focusing on his career was the best decision. But now, seeing his son, everything he believed seemed to crumble.
The race passed in a blur for Max. His usual precision and focus were off, but he managed to secure a podium finish. The crowd's cheers felt distant, muted by the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He couldn't stop thinking about Otto, about you. After the race, Max found himself back at the garage, desperate to find you.
Christian approached him, a stern look on his face. "You need to talk to her, Max. Really talk. She’s here for Otto, and he deserves to know his father. Don’t let your fear ruin this chance."
Max nodded, his resolve hardening. He needed to make things right, to at least try. He found you and Otto in a quiet corner of the paddock, away from the bustling activity. Otto was playing with a toy car, his giggles lighting up the space. You watched him, your face a mixture of love and sorrow.
"Y/N," Max began softly, not wanting to startle you. "Can we talk?"
You looked up, surprise flickering across your face before you nodded. Max sat down across from you, taking a deep breath.
"I messed up," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I was scared. I didn't know how to be a father, especially not with everything else. But that's no excuse. I should have been there for you, for Otto."
You remained silent, letting him continue.
"I want to be a part of his life, Y/N. I know I can't undo the past, but I want to try and make things right. Please, just give me a chance."
Tears welled up in your eyes, and you wiped them away quickly. "Max, it's not just about me forgiving you. It's about Otto. He deserves stability, love, and to know his father. If you’re serious about this, you have to commit to it."
Max nodded, determination in his eyes. "I will. I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes."
For the next few days, Max stayed true to his word. He spent time with Otto, slowly building a bond with his son. They played with toy cars, watched cartoons, and Max even took Otto for a ride in a safe, controlled environment, showing him the magic of racing firsthand. Otto's eyes lit up with excitement, and Max felt a warmth he had never experienced before.
Seeing Max with Otto brought a mix of emotions for you. It was heartwarming to see them bond, but there was also a lingering fear of history repeating itself. Yet, as days turned into weeks, Max's dedication didn't waver. He attended every family dinner, showed up at every nursery event, and made an effort to learn about Otto's likes and dislikes.
Christian watched the developments closely. Despite his role as Max's boss, his primary concern was for you and Otto. One evening, after Otto had gone to bed, Christian sat down with Max in the living room.
"Max, I need to know you're serious about this," Christian began, his tone firm. "My daughter and grandson have been through enough. If you're in, you're in for the long haul. No half-measures."
Max met Christian's gaze, his resolve clear. "I understand, Christian. I know I have a lot to prove, and I'm ready to do whatever it takes."
Christian nodded, his expression softening slightly. "Good. Because Otto deserves the best, and so does Y/N."
The next few months were a period of adjustment and growth. Max moved back to England, finding a balance between his racing career and his newfound family life. You and Max worked through the past, rebuilding your relationship with honesty and patience. It wasn't always easy, but the love that had once drawn you together began to rekindle.
One sunny afternoon, Max took you and Otto to a quiet park. Otto ran ahead, his laughter filling the air as he chased after a butterfly. Max turned to you, a soft smile on his face.
"Y/N, I know things have been complicated," he began, taking your hand in his. "But I want you to know I'm here for you. For both of you. I want us to be a family, but I understand if we need to take things slow."
You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes. "I just want what's best for Otto, Max. And I hope that includes you."
Max squeezed your hand, his eyes filled with hope. "It does. And it includes you too. I've never stopped caring about you, Y/N. Let's take it one step at a time. For Otto, and for us."
Over the next few months, things began to change. Max continued to be a constant presence in Otto's life. He and Christian developed a mutual respect, working together to ensure the best for their family. Max's relationship with you grew stronger, built on a foundation of trust and shared love for Otto.
One evening, after Otto had fallen asleep, you and Max found yourselves alone in the living room. The air was filled with unspoken words, but Max broke the silence.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For giving me this chance. I know it's not easy, but I'm grateful."
You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes. "I just want what's best for Otto, Max. And I hope that includes you."
Max reached out, taking your hand in his. "It does. And it includes you too. I've never stopped caring about you, Y/N. I want us to be a family, if you'll have me."
The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable, and your heart ached with the weight of his words. Slowly, you nodded. "Let's take it one step at a time. For Otto, and for us."
Max smiled, a genuine, relieved smile that made your heart flutter. "One step at a time," he agreed.
The three of you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, a family united by love and a promise of a brighter future. Max had found his way back to you, and together, you would create a new beginning.
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sluttywoozi · 8 months
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Kinktober Day 1: Breeding Kink + Joshua
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For 🧊
Rating: M (18+) | Word Count: 633
Pairing: Joshua x Reader | Genre: smut
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Warnings: breeding kink, mention of bc and sti testing, orgasm delay, cumming together, creampie
Reader Notes: has a vagina
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Joshua doubts you expected this when you told him about your new birth control, when you told him that as long as the tests were clear, you wouldn’t need condoms anymore. But here you are, bent over the bed with your dress shoved up and your panties pulled to the side, your cunt stuffed to the brim with his aching cock. 
“Take it, baby. Take it all,” Joshua groans through gritted teeth, his hands tight on your hips and his heavy balls slapping against your ass with every stroke. He already came inside you once and he can feel it, oh fuck, he can feel it. You were wet before, you always get so damn wet for him, but now he’s gliding inside you, a squelch accompanying each thrust.  He can see a thick ring of white around the base of his cock and his thighs are shining with the combination of your cum and his, but it’s still not enough. 
“Gonna breed you full,” he promises, nearly feral with the idea of pumping even more of his seed into you, enough to spill out, enough to sti- 
Well, it won’t stick now, but maybe someday, Joshua thinks. Your answering moan is muted in the duvet but he hears you anyway, grips you just a bit tighter, fucks you just a bit harder. His cock twitches in you when your walls start to flutter around him, but he’s not ready to cum again yet. He’s got one, maaaaybe two left in him, and he wants to make them count. 
He also wants to cum together, like (almost) always. Of course, he pushes you over the edge without him sometimes, but when possible, he loves getting to reach that high together. It makes him feel closer to you, makes everything feel ten times better, makes his orgasms last so long they leave him breathless. 
“Wait, honey, wait for just a little longer. Let me savor you.” 
And savor you he does. 
He bends over your body, grinds into you deep and heavy, laying kisses over the exposed parts of your neck and back. He doesn’t bother to hold back his sounds, never holds back with you, always wants you to know exactly how much he wants you. 
You whine, shivering beneath him, and he digs his teeth into the curve of your throat, not enough to bruise but enough to sting. You moan his name, your back arching and your hips tilting, and suddenly, he can fit inside you to the root. He feels your walls clamp down around his cock, feels the drag of his veins against the rippling muscles of your cunt, feels the magma start to gather low in his stomach, and knows that you’re done waiting. 
You moan high and sweet as you shatter, your pussy locking him deep inside you and practically milking the hot cum from him. It’s pavlovian for him to break as soon as you do, but it’s so new and delicious and life-altering to be filling you up instead of a condom. He thinks you like it too, your weak whimpers of, “Give it to me,” going straight to his cock and pulling out a dry, mind bending orgasm that leaves him collapsed over you and panting. 
His head spins, his heart races, his vision blurs, and still, it’s not enough. He just can’t stop jerking inside of you, his hips bucking without his permission as your walls squeeze him tight, and even with all of the cum filling you up, he still wants to pump you with more. 
Joshua wonders if it will ever be enough. If two loads weren't, what will be? 
He doesn’t know, but he’s an optimist before anything else so he’ll just have to go for three. 
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Kinktober Masterlist
Taglist: @aaniag @shuabby1994 @gyuwoncheol @aestheticsluut @bahng-chrizz @princessjazzyjazz @8queenc8 @soonhoonietrash @carat-deobi-writes @chans-wife @scuzmunkie @hipsdofangirl @onlyoneofdeeznutz @charmante-mp3 @honestlydopetree @hyneyedfiz @ngengngeng @plskillme22 @5xiang @onedumbho3 @tigerhoshi25 @ener-energy @heavenly-mobo @kingleysworld @iammisstora @jadeblackwoll @gyuhanniescarat @horanghater @shuadotcom @crookedwolfruins @pegdenki @burningupp-replies @flickhurstyles @yearnoclock @yoonguurt @itza-meee @riiley @xxtingz @wonuqrtz @dkswife @onlyyjeonghan @northerngalxy @ikooca @replay-by-shinee @weebotakuboy @ellesmoon @tomodachiii @kyeominara @lissiesykes @thepoopdokyeomtouched @mixling-blog @jadeblackwoll @luvkpopp @tunaasan @sliceofwoozi
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phas3d · 5 months
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can i request something where the reader is sick and she doesn’t eat cause she’s scared to puke so they try to make her eat until they slowly can
this is optional
((but then she feels like a “burden” on her stomach? idk how to explain it ahahah))
You're Sick || Slytherin Boys
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type :: comfort
tw/cw :: puking/vomiting (all)
contains :: draco malfoy, tom riddle, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire
summary :: how they help you when you're sick! i hope the requester isn't sick cause I just got better from a fever and omfg i wanted to cry
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DRACO MALFOY
He cares deeply for you but he HATES being sick
When you text him that you're sick, he's sad but he won't say that
"Finally a day away from you" but then he'll instantly text you that he misses you
Sends you soup and any snack that you're hungry for
But he won't go near you
He'll enter your room but he won't get super close to you
He's scared to get sick since he literally despises it
Last time he was sick, he stayed sick for almost 2 weeks straight
His immune system is weak asf and can't handle germs that much
He loves you, but he's gonna send you kisses from 6 feet away
But when you get super sick, to the point where you can't eat or even breathe properly, he gets worried
He does his best to be there for you for everything
When you vomit, he's mortified but he holds back your hair and looks the other way
He'll help feed you, but he'll definitely be wearing protection of some kind
Like a mask, gloves, goggles, and more
It's a bit dramatic (Very fucking dramatic) but you don't mind
He helps feeds you slowly spoon by spoon
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TOM RIDDLE
I think that he has a strong immune system so he doesn't understand how being sick can affect you so much
But he comforts you in his own ways
Such as, being in the same room as you, making sure all of his devices are muted, sneaking in headache pills in your food, etc
Brings you food from the banquet and feeds it to you spoon by spoon
But sometimes, he pretends he's going to feed you but then feeds himself
You tell him to not do that since you're sick and ate off the same spoon
But he doesn't care and kisses your cheek as extra evidence
When you refuse to eat, he doesn't care and continues to spoon feed you
Even if you deny it, he just rams the spoon on your face, making the soup fall on your clothes
So either you eat the soup or you get covered in it
When you say you're scared to vomit, he groans
He thinks you're being a big baby LMAO since he thinks puking is completely normal
But when you get really upset and start to tear up due to your fear of puking, he panics and sees you're being fr
He goes to the school medics and ask them how to help you
They give him a special vial that allows you to eat and not vomit, which is super perfect for you
He helps you throughout it all and makes sure to care for you :)
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MATTHEO RIDDLE
He has a strong immune system too so he doesn't care about being near you
He'll lay in the same bed as you and kiss you, he doesn't care
Probably makes fun of you for being sick and teases you
"You would have never gotten THIS sick if you just ate dirt as a kid"
Promotes the worst health advice you've ever seen
Probably tries to convince you to go jogging or do some weight lifting
Do NOT do that, don't listen to this man
But he is really sweet with you, just in his own way
When you do anything, he's so proud of you cause he knows how hard it is for you
Like when you finally get up to go pee
"WOOOOO GOOD JOB!!! LETS GO!" He shouts, as if he's watching you take your first ever steps
Will spoon-feed you but definitely adds sound effects
Train noises, bird noises, airplane, fucking everything that moves
Definitely teases you still by pretending he's going to feed you, but the eats it himself
But when you don't want to eat it, he genuinely doesn't understand
"If you want to get better, you have to eat. That's how it works"
But if you keep denying, he'll try to make little promises for you
"If you just eat half of this soup, then when you're feeling better, I'll take you on a shopping spree!"
Will coax you into it and eventually you'll give in
But if you throw up, he feels really bad and guilty
Definitely runs to the school nurses to get medicine for you and everything possible
He holds your hair back and rubs your back reassuringly :)
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THEODORE NOTT
Despite smoking a shit ton and drinking a lot, his immune system is actually pretty good
He’ll give you small pecks and cuddle but he won’t kiss your lips directly
Gives you a ton of tissues and hugs you all the time
He skips class to spend time with you and make sure you're okay
Doesn't care that he's missing an assignment or two because he's smart enough to just learn the material on his own
My headcanon for him is that he's secretly kinda nerdy and has the best grades out of the Slytherin boys
So when you're napping, he does all of your missing assignments for the day
He's such a good caretake it's crazy
Fluffs your pillows, tucks you in, plays your favorite movies, makes sure you always have water and that the temperature of the room is perfect for you
Goes to the dining hall to get you some food and soup
And if they're not serving soup for the night, then he'll buy some himself
I also headcanon that he's pretty good at cooking :) So he might just make you some
But if you deny the food, he'll reassure you and comfort you that you won't throw up
He spoon feeds you and talks about his day
He makes sure you're not eating too fast or too big of bites to make sure you can avoid puking as much as possible
Such a good boyfriend :))
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LORENZO BERKSHIRE
Has an okay immune system but it's pretty weak at times, always has allergies
But even though he knows he's gonna get sick from you, he's still gonna skip all his classes to be with you
Loves this because he has an excuse to skip and spend all day with you!!!
Definitely cuddles with you all day and doesn't care
Takes naps with you and rests besides you
If you struggle to take your liquid medicine, then he'll pour himself a little spoon of it as well
Even though he's perfectly healthy, he'll take it just to make you feel better :)
Does this with pills as well
Brings you food from stores instead of the school's banquet
Buys you fancy and nice dishes that are hot so you can get the best quality possible
When you're scared to eat because you're worried you might puke, he's super fast to reassure you
"It's okay! You need to eat or else you won't get better, love."
Does his best to coax you into trying at least a few spoons of it
And makes sure to tell you that it's from the finest places in town
If you don't like it, he'll just buy you more and more dishes until you finally like one
Anything you want, he'll get for you :)
He will 100000% be sick after you get better, but it was all worth it to him in the end
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eddies-ashtray · 11 months
Text
Getting ready for bed with Eddie <3
(CW: Could be read as gn reader, but Eddie calls reader 'princess' once). |1.1k|
♡*♡*♡
The bathroom is bathed in soft yellow light, slightly muted behind the chipped white sconces. From down the hall you can hear the faint clink of mugs and plates being placed in the sink by Eddie. 
It’s half past 11 and you’re in your sleep shorts and a faded t-shirt as you brush your teeth. You’re about halfway done when Eddie enters the space, sliding in behind you with a gentle hand on your hip. 
“Hey, princess,” Eddie purrs, placing a delicate kiss to your neck, just by your pulse point. You lean into him as he does so. Despite the fact that you’ve spent all day together and he just saw you less than five minutes ago, his greeting isn’t odd to you. 
Eddie grabs his toothbrush from the cup beside the sink and squeezes a glob of bright green toothpaste onto the bristles. 
You spit toothpaste in the sink before replying sweetly, “Hi, baby.” 
When you straighten up again, Eddie bumps his hip gently against yours. You bump his right back. A foamy, close-lipped smile graces his lips around the toothbrush in his mouth and you poke the shallow dimple that pops into his cheek as a result. The divot remains for a few extra seconds in response. 
Faintly, you can make out the chirping of crickets in the overgrown grass outside and the hum of cicadas in the trees, a summer symphony.
It’s simple moments like this that the novel domesticity of living with Eddie strikes you. You love brushing your teeth together, grocery shopping in the evenings, and cooking dinner with him (even if it is just microwave noodles or frozen pizza). As long as it’s with him. 
You love the simplicity of it. That’s how you know you’re happy with Eddie; when there’s not a single thing you could do together that would bore you. He makes everything better, easier even. 
Since Wayne works nights, you and Eddie get the trailer to yourselves most evenings. You like to imagine you’re living somewhere in the city, that this is your shared apartment. 
You hope you get that with him someday. But for now, the trailer is just fine. You could be anywhere with Eddie and it would be just fine. 
Grabbing your book from the side table, you slip into bed while Eddie finishes up in the bathroom. You won’t sink beneath the sheets and get all comfortable and cozy until he joins you. 
You barely finish more than a page before Eddie dives into bed with you. And you mean that literally. 
When Eddie enters the room, he has a running start of about three paces before diving on top of the duvet, landing on your legs which stretch out beneath the worn fabric. The bed jolts with the action and so do you. As a result, your book falls into your lap.
Eddie looks up at you from where he lays on his belly across your legs, propping his chin up against his hand innocently. He bats his long lashes at you like he hasn’t just caused the entire trailer to shake. 
“Are you trying to break the bed?” You ask through giggles.
“No. But we can try,” Eddie remarks, winking and wiggling his eyebrows. 
You scrunch your nose up in faux distaste. “You know, I don’t think I’m up for it now that you’ve broken both of my legs.” 
Eddie laughs softly, eyes crinkling in the corners. And though it’s just a joke, he still apologizes. 
“Sorry,” He says softly, still giggling lightly, before leaning down and placing a sweet kiss to your now exposed hip. He had forced the covers down a few inches with his landing. You push his hair back from his face in response, tucking curly strands gently behind his ears. 
“Have you ever considered, I don’t know, just calmly entering a room and not jumping on innocent, unsuspecting people?” 
Eddie looks at you like you have two heads. “Where’s the fun or flare in that?” And then awkwardly rolls over off your legs and onto his side of the bed. You scoff at his silliness, fingertips pressing against your forehead as you giggle at him. 
He readjusts, pushing himself up and back so he’s sat next to you where your back is pressed up against the wall behind his bed. 
Once he’s settled, you look over at him, and you’re hit with this feeling in your chest that grows and spreads. It takes you over; how much you love him. 
So you lean over and you kiss his cheek, and after you do and he looks at you, he must see it in your eyes and understand. He must recognize it in himself because his eyes soften in the low lamplight of the room and he leans in again and kisses you properly. His lips are soft and taste vaguely of your strawberry chapstick.
When he pulls back slowly, you notice the light smudge of white on his skin and thumb at the small bit of dried toothpaste across his chin. The unshaven stubble there scrapes lightly against the pad of your thumb as you do so. Usually, he shaves every other evening, but he’s neglected his razor for the last bunch of days. 
“Hm,” You hum, eyes tracing a path across the scruff lining his jaw. 
“What?” He wonders softly. 
“You haven’t shaved,” You reply mildly, hand cupping his jaw and very lightly scratching his cheeks, which are dotted with stubble. 
Instantly, Eddie suggests, “I could shave it right now if you wanted.” 
You smile softly, huffing a soft laugh through your nose at his eagerness to do what pleases you. He even starts to get up from the bed before you stop him. 
“Nuh-uh, you’re already in bed,” You say, not wanting him to leave. “And besides, I like it.”
Eddie smiles softly at that, grazing your cheek lovingly with the back of his index finger. 
Then he settles down a bit, lays his head on your shoulder, and you rest yours against the top of his head. 
The pair of you sit there for a short time, you reading your book and Eddie watching you read while fiddling with the fingers on your free hand. 
After, you pull the duvet up to your chins and pull each other close. And you fall asleep just like that, wrapped up in each other just as much as you’re wrapped up in the covers. 
There’s a certain ineffable safety that comes with falling asleep in someone’s arms. In Eddie’s, specifically. You always sleep well when you're next to him. 
♡*♡*♡
Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please reblog!
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tojis-gf · 10 months
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personal stress reliever
author's note: yes bitch i struggled w this one so bad 😭 i had no clue how to go about writing this n i also didn't want to rush it but i didn't wanna like make it too long (n i probably did jus that, sowwy). o yea i also only like proofread this for like not even 5 mins so hehe
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imagine toji in yet another zoom call for work n he's jus been so swamped and stressed with work that you jus wanna make him feel good. you look over at him while you lie on your back on the little black couch in the corner of his office, leaning back in his chair, hand against his lips and thumb resting under his chin as he listens to his business partner shiu ramble on about some changes the company is making. sounds absolutely fucking boring. so like the amazing gf and personal stress reliever you are, you decide to go and do that in the best way you knew possible.
you get up and get on your hands n knees n crawl under toji's desk, resting your plump ass on the heels of your feet, peering up at him from underneath with those big brown doe eyes, and bringing your index finger to your lips to tell him to keep it down. all he can do is look at you with wide eyes, already knowing what you were about to pull, but he lets you continue anyway.
you pull your perky tits from your tight little tank top, bouncing on release, and begin to unfasten his belt and undo his pants, pulling them down just enough for his cock to spring out, slapping against his lower abdomen. your mouth begins to salivate just at the sight of it. wanting to waste no time, you take his shaft in your delicate hands and begin to plant kisses from his tip all the way to the base of his cock before enveloping your plump lips around his reddened head.
you begin bobbing your head up and down taking in all of his fat cock, slobbering all over it, making it messy and nasty, just how toji likes it. one of his hands finds purchase on your head, pushing you down further, his fat mushroom head reaching your uvula, causing you to gag on his dick, saliva dribbling down the sides of your mouth and tears begin the well up in your eyes. unfortunately, toji's camera wasn't off; eyes half-lidded as he threw his head back, and a hand went up to cover his face as he let off a low grunt.
"mr. fushiguro? is everything alright?" one of the female employees says with concern.
"o-oh yeah 'm fine, just a headache that's all..i'll uh be right back," he mutters as he mutes himself and turns off his camera.
"fuckkk just like that princess," he moans as your tongue traces the prominent vein on his cock. you continue bobbling up and down on his cock, wrists twisting in a rhythmic movement as you continued to take him in your warm mouth. "missed that fuckin' tight little throat of yers, been so buried in work i forgot how fuckin' nasty that little mouth of yers was- shitt"
detaching your mouth from his cock, "jus wanted to make you feel good daddy, n i know how stressed you've been lately..." you say while pumping his cock in your hand "so jus sit back n relax baby, okay?"
"fuckk..yea okay doll.." toji mumbles as he lets off a groan. toji readjusts himself in his office chair so that he's now leaning back, hands behind his head as he lets you work your magic.
you place his cock in between your fat perky tits, holding them as you move up and down his shaft, occasionally giving his angry red head little kitten licks. you watch him gaze in awe as he watches his cock being devoured by your tits. "shit, i could watch my cock get swallowed by those perfect tits of yours all fuckin' day princess"
after a few minutes, toji begins growing impatient and begins to thrust his hips upward. not long after, his thrusts begin to get sloppier and his breaths begin to get heavier, signaling that he was close. "ohh fuckk just like that.."
after a few more thrusts, thick, white ropes of cum splattered all over your tits, and god does toji enjoy the view.
"fuck..ya gotta do that more often ma" he laughs as he catches his breath. you stand up with a grin on your face leaning in to press a kiss onto his lips, "anytime you want, baby"
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"Maybe magic, maybe mundane" is one of my favourite tropes, especially when it's featured in something where magic could plausibly exist.
One book idea that I had that is currently only a pile of haphazard notes features a character only known as The Queen's Mute - or simply "the mute" for short - who is exactly what it says on the tin: the queen's personal jester, who does not speak. He is also ambiguously human. An eerie, elfin creature who seems to find it funny when people are puzzled by him.
Besides being completely silent, he has an uncanny skill in copying how people hold themselves and move. Gait, posture, the expressions they make, he could just be standing completely still doing nothing, and it's still obvious whether he's standing like the king or the head cook. If you've seen the subject once, you'll know who he's impersonating. He's quick to spot every opportunity to insult someone by doing so - like spotting a nobleman who isn't faithful to his wife and following after him across the room in the exact same gait that his mistress walks in. The king once remarks that he can't understand how the hell someone who can't speak can have so many rude things to say.
The protagonist was sent to spy on the queen, and the mute is almost always with her - making no sound, not even footsteps, but making himself seen, and seeing and hearing everything. One never hears him come or go, he is just suddenly there, sitting on the floor, waiting to see who's the first person to glance down and get startled out of their mind because people don't just pop out of nowhere like that. Being fond of climbing furniture as well, he might also be sitting on top of a shelf.
Though the protagonist first assumes that he is somewhere close to her own age - somewhere in his late teens - and the narration refers to him as "boy" more often than "man", the queen corrects her. He is just as grown now as he was when she first brought him with her, and though she doesn't know his exact age, she knows he is older than she is herself.
The king - despite of being the mute's favourite subject of vicious mockery - tolerates him for some reason. Despite of being aware that the relationship between the queen and the jester is romantic as well as sexual in nature. Their marriage is as loveless as political arranged marriages get, so he finds it preferable to let the queen keep her mute if his taunting antics and his unsettling way of just appearing into places at least keep other men away.
The queen occasionally mentions things that she wasn't supposed to know - and couldn't have known - just to let the protagonist know that she knows more about what's going on than what she lets on. When the protagonist fails to hide her shock and asks the queen how she knew, the queen explains that the mute told it to her. The protagonist assumes this to be a joke, her way of saying "none of your business", since obviously the mute doesn't talk.
But he does talk. Only to the queen, only when absolutely no other soul is there to hear it. And as a plot twist on the last third of the book, it turns out that besides knowing how to move like other people, the mute is a frighteningly good vocal mimic. He can copy the queen's voice perfectly, which they have often used for her advantage. Looking back to every scene where the queen was heard but not seen - behind a curtain or a dressing screen, talking through a door, or just overheard singing to herself in the garden - there is no telling whether the protagonist was actually talking with the queen, or if she had that whole conversation with the mute. This would explain at least one incident where the queen was supposed to be in one place but somehow shows up somewhere else.
The protagonist never figures out what the mute's whole deal is. She never finds a satisfying answer despite of the queen clearly telling her that he is just as much a human of flesh and blood as either of them. The queen often sounds like she's lying when she's telling the truth, as she is now. The mute is completely, entirely human, just somewhat autistic and trans.
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