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dearlyjun · 9 months

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— just a neighbor 𖤐 huening kai

summary: your neighbor across the hall consoles you after a breakup, and after that you can’t stop fucking him.

pairing: hotneighbor!kai x afab!reader

genre: smut (18+ readers only!)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: making out/nasty kissing, discussing kai’s dick out in the open, throat grabbing, semi public sex, fingering in an elevator, multiple orgasms, biting, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, use of birth control is mentioned, multiple positions, lots of whining, moaning, reader is wearing a skirt, kai has a big dick, there’s a cumshot and ummm think that’s it??

authors note: here she isssss! the kai smut I’ve been talking about. the beginning is kind of bad in my opinion idk what was going on but I promise the smut is smutting and kai is so hot in this if I do say so myself hanwvahbavbs enjoy bye!!

quick links: masterlist | taglist

—

ding.

The elevator doors opened up, allowing you to step inside. A man that was probably a few years older than you greeted you and asked what floor you were going up to. You responded with 6, and stood over to the opposite corner as him.

You looked at your phone to pass the time, until the elevator stopped again and the man got off.

The elevator suddenly was going back to the main floor, making you annoyed because that wasn’t where you intended to go. It stopped, allowing the doors to open. Your neighbor across the hall from you stepped inside, standing against the wall across from you. You knew him fairly well, he was there to console you after a breakup with well – his dick. You both have been hooking up ever since.

He looked like he had just came home from work. He was dressed in a button up shirt that accented his muscular chest and broad shoulders almost too well, and some fitted dress pants complete with a belt.

You both made eye contact with each other, and the elevator doors closed.

Suddenly before you could even say anything to him, he shoved you against the wall of the elevator, kissing you roughly.

You grabbed onto his forearm as his hand gripped your jaw, then he began kissing your neck.

“Kai, fuck.” You whined as he surely left marks on your skin. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come over after work yesterday.” He was so close you could feel his hot breath on your neck. “I got home so late.”

You pouted. “I know, I was so excited.” You moved your hands along his broad chest and shoulders. “On my lunch break I couldn’t stop thinking about your cock.”

Kai clenched his jaw.

“But you know…” you continued. “Since you never came over, I had to satisfy myself on my own.”

“Fuck.” Kai muttered under his breath, kissing you again. “And you didn’t even call me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You looked up at him. “But I’ll have you know, it wasn’t the same.”

“I was alone.” Kai spoke between kissing you, making his way from your lips down to your jaw and your neck. “You know I love the pretty sounds you make.”

You hummed when his lips were against that spot behind your ear.

“Do you have plans tonight?” His teeth scraped your skin as he talked.

You whimpered quietly, placing your hand against his chest as you tried to nudge him away so that you could talk.

“I mean…” you tried to find the words as he was so close to you. “I had plans to grab drinks with my girlfriends.”

Kai exhaled, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip, pulling it down. “I think…” his voice was breathy.

“You have plans with me now.”

You smirked, clearly liking where this was going. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kai kissed you again. “Call and cancel if you have to.”

He paused, glancing down at you. “That’s a cute skirt by the way.”

“You like it?” One of your hands slid over to his bicep, and you could have whimpered at how firm it felt.

“Yeah, I think it’d look nice on my bedroom floor, don’t you think?” Kai spoke, making you nearly gasp before his lips crashed with yours again.

Kai moaned against your mouth, before snaking one of his hands between your legs. You knew where this was going, hiking up one of your legs onto the metal guard rail that was in the elevator.

One of your hands held onto the rail, while the other held onto him as you tried not to lose your footing.

Kai briefly pulled away from the kiss, but his face was still close to yours as he pulled the fabric of your underwear away from your core. You had no idea you were so wet until you felt how easily he slipped his middle and ring finger inside of you.

“Oh my god, fuck.” Kai swore under his breath, trying to maintain his composure.

In an attempt to be quiet, you quickly covered your mouth; letting go of Kai’s arm to hold yourself up.

Kai quickly pulled your hand away. “Nope. Wanna hear you.”

You grabbed onto his shoulder; practically digging your nails into him.

“Fuck. Feels so good.” You whined, leaning your head against the wall.

“Yeah.” Kai’s voice was breathy, his face probably a mere inch away from yours. “Tell me.”

You let go of his shoulder, and attempted to pull his body closer to yours; wanting to feel him against you. Kai kissed you again, but his rhythm with his fingers never faltered. He slipped a third finger into your core, making you moan into his mouth; giving the perfect opportunity to tongue kiss you.

You felt him change his positioning of his fingers, now trying to hit upwards, finding your sweet spot.

It was only a matter of seconds before he found it, hitting it repeatedly and making you slightly lose your balance.

“Fuck.” You whined as you buried your face into his neck; still holding onto him.

“Yeah, you’re gonna cum.” Kai spoke to you; his voice oddly steady. “But I want you to look at me.”

“I can’t.” Your voice was almost a sob.

He sighed, feeling your walls clenching his fingers. “Yes, you can. Or I’ll stop.”

He couldn’t stop. Not right now when you were so close to your high.

You looked up at him, subtle tears forming. “No, no. Kai, please.”

Kai smirked at you. “Good girl, you look so pretty.”

He pulled his fingers out of you; pressing firm against your clit. He moved his fingertips against it in quick motions, then it was over.

“Fuck!” You cried out, leaning your head against the wall of the elevator; hoping that nobody could possibly hear you. Your walls clenched around nothing as your legs threatened to give out beneath you.

Kai watched your expressions, biting his lip as you started to whine from the overstimulation; he finally pulled his fingers away from you.

You were panting, feeling like you’ve been fucking four hours already.

“You’ve got a long night with me, pretty.” Kai spoke before leaning down to kiss you softly. “I hope you’re not fucked out just yet.”

“No, never.” You answered, starting to adjust your clothing. Kai helped you a few seconds later.

The elevator stopped, making you both look at each other.

“Do I look okay?” You asked him, speaking quietly.

“Yeah, you look normal.” Kai answered. “Walk behind me.”

The doors opened, and there were people. Only a few. The both of you tried not to make eye contact with anyone. You walked down the hall behind Kai to his apartment door, he unlocked it, then let you walk in ahead of him.

Once inside, Kai shut the door.

Suddenly your back was shoved against it, making you whimper. Kai’s mouth was on yours again in a bruising kiss.

“I hope that wasn’t obvious.” Kai spoke between kissing you. “That I’m bringing you here to fuck you all night.”

He started kissing down your jaw, and behind your ear; making you moan. You moved your hands to his hair. “I don’t think so.”

“Sweetheart, no one is that stupid.” Kai chuckled, lightly sucking and nibbling at your skin.

“Agh, fuck.” You whined as he most definitely was leaving marks on you.

“I want you out of these clothes.” He practically growled in your ear.

You could easily say the same thing for him.

“Can we go to your bedroom?” You asked him, feeling Kai’s hand slip up your inner thigh.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to ask.” Kai answered, kissing you on the lips. His use of the pet name made your heart flutter. “Let’s go.”

Once in the bedroom, you kicked off your shoes, and Kai immediately pulled down your skirt after you pulled your shirt over your head. You could tell by the look on his face that he was surprised by the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra.

You sat onto his bed, while Kai was now in front of you. You started unbuttoning his shirt as he brought his hand underneath your chin, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb.

You looked up at him, taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it like you would his cock. Kai sucked in a breath, before he had to pull away from you to take his shirt off completely.

“Fuck.” He swore. “Look at me like that and I’ll ruin you.”

“Maybe I want you to.” You got to work undoing his belt. “You bailed on me last night. I could use a good fuck.”

You threw his belt to the ground.

Kai took over, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He lowered them slightly, his large bulge very prominent that you couldn’t take your eyes off of it.

“You sure about that?” He lifted your chin to look up at him, strands his dark hair somewhat in his face. “I think the neighbors may hear you, or you don’t care?”

You’re pretty sure the neighbors knew what was going on between you two, but they pretended not to.

“I don’t know if I care.” You palmed him through his pants, earning a low, throaty groan from him.

“I don’t think you ever did.” Kai kissed you again, his hands roaming your body. One of his hands slipped inside of your underwear, rubbing your clit again and making you yelp due to the sensitivity still.

You were laying on the bed now; Kai hovering over you.

He smirked against your mouth. “So sensitive for me still.”

“Kai, I want you to fuck me.” Your voice was whiny.

“Oh?” Kai challenged. “We don’t say please anymore?”

He pushed his middle and ring finger past your folds, pressing you walls hard this time.

You were whining, squirming underneath him.

He leaned down by your ear. “Or I can just see how many times I can make you cum without fucking you.”

That was not fair. At all.

He angled his hand so that he could rub your clit at the same time. You knew that would send you overboard.

“Be good for me.” Kai muttered, sloppily kissing down your neck and to your chest. “Wanna hear you say it.”

“Fuck…” You let out a whine, your legs already starting to shake as he was finger fucking you now.

You knew how Kai worked. If you didn’t actually say please; he wasn’t going to do anything, and nothing was going to help the ache between your legs like his cock was.

“Not quite there, princess.” Kai spoke, before making his way to your right nipple, swirling his tongue around it, and sucking and biting lightly.

“Fuck, Kai.” You nearly yelped, squirming underneath him. “Please, please, please. Fuck me, do whatever you want to me.”

Kai pulled away, smirking. “There it is.” He pulled your underwear down, with the help of you lifting your hips to completely pull them off.

He got up, pulling off his pants completely and kicking them to the side on the floor. Then he lowered his underwear, making you suck in a breath at the sheer size of him. Something you never seemed to get accustomed to.

Kai kneeled in front of you on your back, his hands holding your thighs apart. “Are you still on–“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

“The pill?” You questioned. “Yes.”

“Okay. Fuck.” He swore. “Look how wet you are.” He gripped the base of his cock, gliding the tip through your soaked folds; tapping it against your clit.

“Fuck, Kai put it in.” You whimpered. “I know you’re big, but I can take it.”

“Shhhh.” He hushed you, finally pushing himself into you; but he wasn’t going in all of the way.

“Oh, fuck.” You moaned, grabbing onto his arms. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Fuck.” Kai swore, watching himself bottom out inside of you. “That’s so hot.”

You let out a whine, nodding slightly as you couldn’t completely see what he was looking at.

He was already starting to fuck into you kind of hard; one of his thrusts in particular had pushed you further up on the bed.

“Kai.” You suddenly cried out his name, one of your hands grabbing onto his bed sheets.

“Yeah, say my name.” Kai spoke. “It’s me that fucks you this good.”

“Only you.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Fuck! You’ll make me cum.”

“That’s the whole point isn’t it, princess?” Kai teased you, beginning to toy with your now over sensitive clit.

Your walls clenched around him, making him moan. Kai didn’t pull away from you, forming a rhythm of playing with your clit and starting to fuck into you harder.

Your legs started to shake, and your stomach tightened. You let out a sob of a moan, grabbing onto one of Kai’s arms.

“Fuck you got tight.” Kai grunted. “Let it go, cum all over my cock.”

That was all it took before you broke, crying out his name, covering your face to try to be quiet, all while your body shook underneath Kai who kept fucking you as you rode your high.

“So good for me.” Kai leaned down over your body, kissing your neck, jaw and chest. “You want me to cum in you, baby?”

You pulled him closer to you — or at least tried to. “Please…” you pouted. Kai rarely finished inside of you, even though you were on birth control.

“Fuck…” He swore, smiling. “Why did I ask when I can’t say no. Get on your hands and knees.”

Kai pulled away from you, allowing you to change positions. You moaned when he finally put his cock back inside of you as it felt slightly deeper.

Kai gripped your hips, fucking you harder than before. “Fuck, you feel that?”

“Fuck.” You whimpered, feeling so fucked out but so desperate for more. “So good. Don’t stop.”

He pushed you further down for you to arch your back more.

“Fuck!” You couldn’t comprehend saying anything else as he was slamming into you again. “Kai…fuck.”

You kept whimpering and moaning, trying to muffle your noise in one of his pillows. Kai noticed and immediately leaned over you and ripped it away from you; throwing it to the floor.

“No, no, no.” His voice was breathy. “I don’t give a fuck if the neighbor hears you.”

You thought back to one time when you went over to Kai’s apartment across the hall at 2 in the morning because you couldn’t sleep. It ended in a noise complaint from one of the neighbors on either side, complaining about hearing “loud crying” late at night.

Well, now it was nearly the middle of the day; only about half past 6. Your next moan came out as a sob, there was no way that Kai was going to pull another orgasm from you. You were losing count and already had no idea how he was lasting so long.

“Fuck.” Kai pulled you from your thoughts with a deep groan as he threw his head back. “I’m gonna fucking cum.”

You bit your lip as his thrusts suddenly became erratic; slamming into you at somewhat of an uneven rhythm before spilling himself inside of you and letting out the hottest moan that has probably ever come out of his mouth.

“Fuck. That’s so much.” You didn’t even move, but you know he had made a mess out of you.

Kai finally pulled out of you, and you winced at the feeling of some of his cum dripping out of you. Until you gasped when you felt two of his fingers fucking it back into you.

“Look so pretty like this. All mine.” You couldn’t see him but you knew he was admiring your fucked out state. “I should do this more often.”

You turned over onto your back; Kai hovering over you.

“Such a mess.” You joked, smirking as you ran your fingers through his hair before he leaned down to kiss you.

“I can run you a shower.” Kai spoke in between kissing you. “Besides, I’m not finished with you just yet.”

—

tags: @dearlyjoonie @tyunsrkive @mhasimp666

#huening kai smut #huening kai x reader #txt x reader #txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #kai smut

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sameschmidtdiffname · 4 months

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What's One More?

Mike Schmidt x AFAB! Reader

Summery: The house is all to you and Mike, which is a strange feeling to Mike as he begins to realize how things are changing. But change isn't always a bad thing, is it?

Tags: Porn with plot barely, no use of Y/N, Reader has female pronouns, set after the events of the FNaF movie, pre-established relationship, breeding kink, dirty talk/talking through it, oral sex (fem recieving), face fucking, vaginal fingering, pet names, possessive sex/actions, marking, hair pulling, mentions of drinking, multiple rounds, aftercare, multiple orgasms, teasing, dumbification, overstimulation, this is possibly filthier than Princess imma be fr.

Notes: Yes I'm working on requests. Yes I'm working on part II for 'Easy Money.' Yes I'm working on 50 million different projects + writers block that's preventing me from posting as much as I'd like. But in the meantime, *rattles can* COME GET Y'ALLS DICK.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

The front door opened at the same time it does everyday, Mike slipping in quickly to evade the cold, bitter Febuary air that has turned his cheeks red while he called out his usual 'hello' to the house. His easy smile instantly appeared as soon as our eyes met, me standing at the stove giving the large pot of chilli its final stir just in time for his arrival home.

"Hey!" I said cheerfully, looking up from the boiling pot briefly before setting the lid back down, crossing the floor quickly to come collect his coat.

"Hey," he returned, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to my cheek as I undo his buttons, his hands coming to rest on my silk covered hips. "Never seen you in this before," he mumbled, pulling away slightly to get a better look.

"You like?" I ask, pushing the jacket off of his shoulders and folding it over my arms. "I've had this since freshman year. Found it in one of my boxes from the move." The robe is simple, thrifted but It'd been new when I'd gotten it. Emerald green and made from silk, if not silk like material- I'm no expert on fabrics, -reaching down to my ankles and showing off my curves, drawn tight around my waist to accent my figure. Simple floral patterns sewn into the collar decorate the robe, slightly darker than the rest of the fabric. His eyes wandered over my body, taking in the sight as he slowly removed his items from his pockets.

"You look nice," he said, almost sounding as if he was in a trance.

"Just nice?" I tease.

"The word 'motherly' comes to mind," he said. "Not- not in a weird way," he quickly added, blushing slightly. "Just- you cooking, dressed in that. Just kinda...." He's flustered, scratching at the back of his head as he tried to clarify what I already understand.

I smile at him, leaning closer. "Well, it's fitting," I teased.

It had been about a year since I moved in. Mike and I had met during a night out, our friends recognizing each other. Initially I thought the blonde he had been with- Vanessa, I would later learn, -had been a bit more than a friend. But after spending the night round a table, laughing and getting up one by one for drunken karaoke, Mike and I had made eye contact enough times to warrant my request for his number after I confirmed she wasn't.

"Seriously?" He asked when I'd passed him the notepad specifically meant for numbers that I kept in my purse.

"Yeah," I'd laughed, slightly- okay, maybe more than slightly -drunk. "You're hot."

I was three beers and one shot of straight tequila into the night when I'd asked, everyone beginning to debate who would call a taxi and who would ride with who. I felt rather confident.

His eyes narrowed, his cheeks red most likely from alcohol. Although he'd only had the one beer.

"Oh shit," I giggled stupidly. "Did I read things wrong? Because I thought-"

"No! You didn't," he quickly said, cutting me off. He scribbled his number down quickly, scratchy enough that I could barely read it, and he could sense that.

"You want me to write it again?" He asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"Maybe," I giggled. "Or I can have my friend ask Vanessa if I get it wrong."

I got it wrong. Twice. But that was my fault since I called as soon as I'd gotten home, bleary eyed and claiming to just be checking to see if he got home alright, which wasn't a total lie. Then he asked if I wanted to get Chinese the next day. And how am I supposed to say no to an offer like that?

When he first brought up his sister I think he expected me to run for the hills. God, no. Not a man committed to caring for his baby sister. Please.

When I'd met the girl she was sly, simply saying "Oh, you're who he won't talk about." Mike seemed ready to throttle her, and I was ready to step in and help take care of her however much they needed me to. Who could say no to a kid like that?

Three years in and Mike had been nervous asking for me to move in. We'd both had the idea, but we both were terrified that the other would immediately shoot it down. But it was almost ridiculous to worry about such a thing. Mike had visited me all the time with Abby in tow, I visited Mike. Eventually we were at the point that I was at his house more often than I was at my own apartment. And with Abby getting older and beginning to have a life of her own, one that I could tell Mike was anxious about her having, it was about time a serious talk be had about the future of our relationship.

"You know, married couples have better taxes," I said casually one day while huddled around the kitchen table, papers strewn all over the place and some even on the floor while I punched numbers into a calculator. I think that nearly killed Mike, who shot out air through his nose hard enough all of his coffee covered his face and hair.

Then a week later he'd flipped through channels lazily, commenting on how awful the channels were before landing on the one of the marketers selling jewelry for prices that could make you shit.

"That's a nice ring," he commented. "Don't you think?"

I looked up from my book, narrowing my eyes to focus my vision. "Ooh, it is," I agreed.

"What kind of rings do you like? Like, what's your favorite?" He asked.

"Subtle," I deadpanned, smiling. "I'm coming with you to pick it out."

We picked up a new set of housekeys first.

"Get a room," Abby groaned, wandering in to flop onto the couch.

"Don't flop, you'll hit your head," Mike and I both scolded, smiles growing as we heard the other. Abby simply groaned louder, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, that's punishment enough," I muttered, giggling slightly. I moved to the coat closet, hanging up Mike's jacket. "How was work?" I asked him.

Mike shrugged, leaning against the wall. "It was good. Long. Shop gets cold this time of year," he said.

"Well, dinner will help. It's done, by the way. Timed it just right," I said with a wide smile. Mike returned it, stepping closer to wrap his arms around me once more and say a soft 'thank you' before pressing his lips to mine.

"Seriously, a room," Abby groaned.

"There's one right there with a table that needs set. Go on," I said to her, gesturing towards the adjacent room. She rolled her eyes once more, getting up off the couch and grumbling as she made her way to the cabinets.

"Wow," Mike chuckled. "She's got attitude."

"She's fourteen, we should be lucky she hasn't killed us in her sleep," I said into his ear, laughing.

"Don't you mean ours?"

"No."

The dinner is nice. A scene right out of a book, all of us gathered around the table eating the warm food as we discuss our days, Mike and I shooting each other glances here or there when we think Abby, who's in the middle of some long story neither of us are truly able to give our attention towards, won't notice. Eventually his hand found mine under the table, grasping it gently and squeezing as I hold his gaze, smiling in the same idiotic manner he always brings out of me.

"It's tonight. I know it's short notice but all of my friends are going and her parents will be there," Abby said quickly, inturrupting our mental conversation with her pleading eyes.

"Wait a minute, back up. What's happening?" Mike said, blinking and refocusing.

"The sleepover," Abby said emphatically. "I didn't find out about it until today and my friends invited me. Can I go?"

Mike opened his mouth to respond, his eyes worried and glancing over to me.

"Who is this?" He asked.

"Lisa."

"Lisa?"

"Lisa Browning," I reminded him.

"Oh. And this is at her house?" He asked.

"Yes," Abby moaned in frustration, clearly impatient for her answer.

Mike and I glanced at each other. His eyes are unsure, looking to me for my thoughts.

"She visits them all the time, I don't see why not," I said. I turn to Abby. "Is her mom picking you up?"

"She can," Abby said quickly.

Mike is still unconvinced, I can tell by his grasp on my hand.

"You have that phone we bought you for Christmas?" I asked her. She nodded. Since recieving the cheap, purple Motorola she hadn't let it out of her grasp. "If you go, will you call us when you get there, when you guys are going to sleep? Any location change you'll run by us first?" I asked. Abby nodded again, her eyes shifting to Mike once more, wide with teenage desperation.

It was hard for Mike watching her get older. It would scare any parent, but take a man who'd watched his brother be kidnapped and his parents wilt away leaving him to step up? There were days Mike would wake hyperventilating, terrified something would happen to her if he didn't do something. It took convincing, but over time I had convinced him to relax, told him she was smart. Once I'd told him all the trouble I'd survived, he finally learned to catch his breath before jumping into several questions about how I was still alive with a new panic.

With a squeeze of my hand, he nodded.

"Check in. If you don't, I'll call her mom."

"Unnecessary, I'll call," Abby said, leaping from her seat and already dialing a number.

"Wash your plate!" Mike tried to tell her, but she was already gone.

"I'll get her plate, let her go," I chuckled. Mike sighs beside me, wiping his face with his hand.

"You think she'll be okay?" He asked me.

"I think fourteen year olds spend their days watching scary movies and MTV, nothing she won't do here," I said, taking a spoonful of chilli into my mouth. After I swallow I add, "Besides, it gives us the chance for some alone time."

That solidified the decision in his mind.

Much to Abby's embarrassment, Mike reminded Mrs. Browning to have Abby call us to check in, and with her reassurement he finally relaxed, walking back into the house once they're out of sight.

As I finish drying the dishes, I feel his hands settle on my hips, warm and large as he sinks his head into the crook of my neck.

"Where did the time go?" He mused, moreso to himself than to me.

"Feeling old?" I teased.

"Yes."

"Hot."

"Shut up," he groaned, laughing into my neck.

"'Oh my God, get a room,'" I groan in a fake voice, my laughter joining in.

"Are we gross?" He asked, wrinkling his nose.

"A little," I concede. "I mean, imagine how you're gonna feel when she brings home a boyfriend."

At that his eyes widen and he groans. "I don't wanna deal with teenage boys," he moaned, pulling away to lean against the counter in front of me.

"Oh, they're coming. Just you wait. I was this age when I got my first boyfriend," I warned him.

"Teenage boys are idiots," he said.

"Teenage girls are terrifying," I add. At that he nods, eyebrows raised in agreement. "Oh, she could bring home a girl instead!"

"You know what, I'd prefer that. Less trouble actually," he decided.

"You'll survive," I tell him, shaking my head as I set the dish inside the cabinet with a small clatter. He sighed, smiling to himself in thought.

"I remember when she was a baby. So tiny," he said softly. "You should've seen her. So cute. Smelled good, too."

"You've been smiling at babies a lot, you know," I teased, shutting the cabinet and putting away the dishcloth. "Something on your mind?"

Mike blushed, waving his hand. "Nah." He paused. "...kinda," he admitted. I chuckled. Every time we'd passed a couple our age walking through the store with a baby in tow, Mike was instantly softened. His usual automatic glare giving way to a little smile as he'd wave at the tiny human, maybe even making a face to make them laugh. It'd been entertaining when ones mother once caught him with his cheeks puffed out and eyes crossed, the baby letting out a huge shriek of laughter at the sight. He hid in the soup aisle for awhile after that while I tried not to cry from laughter.

"We still have plenty of Abby's old baby stuff in the garage, you know," I said. It wasn't a new conversation, we had both agreed it was something we wanted when the time came. "Spare room, stable jobs, great sex."

Mike's wide eyes watched me as I slowly trailed closer. "Good genetics," he mumbled.

"I don't see any reason we couldn't put any use to those things," I mused, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and leaning into him.

"I can't tell if you're serious," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"Even Abby would like it. Said we're taking forever as is," I said cooly. He laughed at that.

"No she didn't," he said.

"She did!"

"Abby, the one who can't even see us in the same room without threatening suicide?"

"Listen, babies are different," I laughed, shrugging. He eyed me carefully, looking me up and down before saying anything.

"You'd like that?" He asked finally, wrapping his arm around my waist.

"I'm living in your house, wearing a ring and making dinner for you and your little sister that I've been helping you raise for four years. What is one more commitment?" I asked.

"It's a human being," he pointed out.

"Oh, fuck that then. None of those shits are gonna live in my house," I deadpanned. He laughed, leaning in to catch my lips in a kiss.

"Be our human being," he said softly.

"That means it'll be funny," I said just as soft.

"It could have your eyes."

"Could have your nose."

"Yours is better."

"You're right."

He smacks my ass gently, chuckling as his eyes darken pleasantly. "Should we give it a try?" He asked, his voice low and rough in my ear.

"I'd say it's about time you asked."

Mike hiked me onto his shoulder, carrying me through the house and pushing open the door to our room as I giggled wildly, feeling the bed underneath of me as he flung me down, fingers searching for the ties of my robe.

"You're sure about this?" He asked, eyes watching me carefully. "This isn't just some sex thing?"

I laughed, feeling him struggle with the knot.

"Not a sex thing," I clarify. "Although admittedly hot. Do you need help?"

"The fuck did you do to this thing?" He asked, laughing but brows furrowed in frustration. I reached to pull on the string and give it one simple tug, making it come undone to reveal my simple underwear underneath.

"I like coming home to this," he said, his voice deep and husky. "You look so comfortable here. So perfect. House is so much brighter with you in it. Just so perfect."

His lips wander on my chest, first working on the valley between my breasts, his teeth nipping at the band of my bra. He tugged it upwards, snapping it against my skin harshly. A soft moan escapes me, and I allow my legs to fall open to offer him better access. He takes the opportunity, settling his body perfectly against mine as his lips begin to trail upwards to my throat.

"I love waking up next to you in the morning. I sleep so much easier with you here, feeling your breath against me as soon as I wake up. You've got creative methods to keep me up too when I don't want to be," he teased. His hands find my hips, squeezing them as he thrust our clothed hips together, making us both groan. "Are you already wet?" He asked me, nipping at my throat.

"Gotta have something to think about while I cook," I teased. He chuckled. His lips find purchase and begin sucking on my skin, creating a dark mark on the front of my throat that will only be properly covered by a sweater. I moaned slightly louder, rocking my hips slowly against his. His lips moved slightly higher, creating another, then repeating until a dotted line of dark hickies lay upon my throat, marking me all the way to just under my chin. As he sucked on the edge of my jawline, I let out a high pitched whine, digging my hands into my own hair as I tried to not rush through this.

"You sound so pretty like this," Mike said against my skin, his breath warm. "Only thing prettier is how you look." His warm hand cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking my cheekbone softly.

"Talk to me," he said softly, staying still aside from the gentle stroke of his thumb. His eyes are soft, black in the dim lighting from his blown out pupils. He looks so sweet, so ready to please. If I said the word he'd do anything so long as it made me happy.

I cup his face with my hands, pulling him towards me to capture his lips in a soft kiss. His lips are warm against mine, wet from his own spit from creating the dark marks against me. He moaned softly, his tongue swiping at my lower lip to ask permission for access. I grant it, parting my lips slightly and gasping as his tongue quickly slides in, deep in my mouth and dominating the kiss as his grasp on me tightened. It felt as though he was desperate, like a dying man trying to experience his last contact with another human being ever in his life. I tried to return the kiss with as much frenzy, but his hands on either side of my face, his grasp firm yet careful, his hips pinning me to the mattress made my mind begin to slip into a world of pleasure, not able to focus on anything except how good it felt to not be in control.

I could feel his breathing through his nose, still kissing me and exploring my mouth. It lasted a minute, two, three. When he finally pulled away, several gossamer threads of spit still connected us, disappearing into thin air as he looked down at me, his hand carefully stroking my forehead.

"I'm going to ask one more time," he said carefully. "This is your last chance. After this I'm not checking," he stressed. His breath is hot and heavy against me, and my hips roll against his in an attempt for friction. "Are you one hundred percent positive?" He asked, his eyes wide and eager as he placed carefully kisses along my cheeks. I nod quickly, desperate for more. Mike shook his head, pulling away slightly.

"Say it," he said. "Be clear."

I blushed, suddenly feeling shy for no real reason. "I'm completely sure," I said gently. "I want this."

"This as in sex or a kid?" He asked.

"Both," I answered.

"You're completely sure? Because if you want to back out that's completely-"

"Michael, I swear to fucking God if you don't hurry up and fuck me I'm gonna get you pregnant, see how you like-"

Mike scrambled off the bed, grabbing my ankles and pulling me roughly to the edge. I let out an involuntary yelp, giggling as he spread my legs wide and high, his lips and teeth pressing against my left ankle before quickly trailing downwards, biting and sucking quickly as he moaned wantingly.

"Eager?" I asked him lightly. He shoots me a look, biting down particularly hard on a spot almost under my knee before beginning his work on the inside of my thigh. His hand trailed up and down my right thigh, grazing his nails against my skin to make me shiver while he focused his mouth on the other.

"You taste delicious," he moaned, teeth sinking into my thigh as his nails dug in harshly, raking down until his hand came near my hips before raking back up to my knee. "Whatever soap you're using, keep using it."

I blush, moaning gently. My hips rolled towards his head, making him chuckle.

"Be patient," he chided.

"I am patient," I said defensively.

"Since when?" He asked, biting down on a new spot. I moan again, squirming against him as I felt a surge of warmth shoot from my head straight to my cunt. "Anytime I so much as look at you, you beg me to fuck you."

"That's not true," I said. His hand slaps my thigh, grabbing it roughly as he bit down once more, lower.

"Made me fuck you on the table last night just because you couldn't focus on your book," he tisked. "Now you're making me fuck you because you want a baby."

"You want one too," I reminded him.

"I want anything with you," he moaned against my skin. "Especially anything that makes you mine."

My hands stretch above my head, my fingers woven together. Mike's eyes caught on something, staring at my hand as his mouth drew closer to where I wanted it.

"Your ring looks so pretty," he moaned. "Love seeing you wear it. So glad I bought it. Love seeing people notice it on you."

"Yeah?" I asked. I tried to squeeze his head with my thighs, but his hands keep me open, even spreading my legs wider after my attempt.

"Remember that kid at the bar?" He asked, chuckling. The 'kid' in question had been in college, clearly drunk as he leaned against the bar next to me while I'd waited for Mike, who'd watched the interaction curiously from the window outside, asking if it hurt when I fell from heaven. A simple flash of my ring and the response of having someone catch me before I hit the ground sent him stumbling away to disappear once more into the crowd. "Poor fucker looked so disappointed," Mike said, sucking a dark spot into my thigh, making me squirm and throw my head back in pleasure.

"You like being possessive," I teased him. His hand smacked my thigh once more.

"I'm not the one who came and shoved her tongue down my throat when the bartender got a little too flirty for her taste," he said. His eyes sparkled, fingers massaging the spot tinged red from the abrasion.

"I did not shove my tongue down your throat," I said defensively.

"You pulled my hair like I was a bitch," he laughed. His hot air blew against my clothed cunt, making me gasp from stimulation. He picked up on this, blowing cold air against me before saying "She was just trying to get tipped."

"I know," I moaned. "I'd had a couple."

Mike licked at my covered pussy, flattening his tongue wide against me as he licked a long, hot stripe from bottom to top, sucking at my clit through the wet cotton once he reached it. I moaned into the pillow beside me, muffling my cries. His hand reached up and snatched it from me, throwing it off the bed as he repeatedly licked, gaining speed as his dark eyes watched me.

"Okay, maybe we're both possessive," I conceded, bucking my hips against his face. He hummed happily, his large hands cupping my asscheeks and lifting my hips higher off the bed as he squeezed the cool flesh.

"I like it," he said. "Like that I won't even have to do anything to show you're mine now after this."

I feel my stomach flutter at his words, a blush dusting my cheeks.

"It may take a couple tries," I tell him.

"We've got all night," he said breathily.

"Until Abby calls," I reminded him. He groaned at that. "She's not gonna call, we both know that," I laughed.

"Not my problem right now," he said. His fingers hooked around the band of my underwear, pulling them away from me harshly. "You are."

"A problem?" I said in mock offense. "Well, I guess if that's what I am, I'll take my goods elsewhere." I huffed haughtily, twisting away from him and turning onto my stomach. The motion helped Mike bring my underwear to my ankles as I began to crawl away. He tugged them off fully, then grabbed my ankles once more to return me to the edge of the bed. I yelped once more, grabbing at the sheets and dragging them down with me. Mike spread me open once more and immediately shoved his tongue as deep inside of me as he could, holding my hips up and legs open as he tongue fucked me in earnest. I cried out, grinding my hips against his face. I clutched a pillow to my face, crying and even screaming into it when his lips wrapped around my clit, sucking harshly at just the right spot to make me cum with barely a warning. Mike had been pleased as punch when he figured out just the right angle the very first time. It was his favorite, throwing me into orgasm without any preparation to strike me dumb and overstimulated. There were times he'd focus on my clit for what felt like hours, tugging and licking to figure out what made me cum the fastest, the hardest, sometimes even managing to make me paint his face, and once his hair. He grinned so wide I almost thought his face would split open when he accomplished that.

He pulled away from my cunt for just a moment, his voice deep and commanding. "Let me hear you," he said. He buried himself in my cunt once more. I could feel his jaw moving, his bottom lip moving against my clit as his tongue slipped in and out, creating lewd, nasty noises that filled the air. I moaned into my pillow, hardly able to think. His hand smacked my ass hard before he pulled away once more. "Don't make me ask again, woman."

I raised my head to say something, but the words escaped me as I felt his tongue dive in once more, curling to scoop my slick into his mouth. He moaned at the taste, his hand roughly grabbing at my ass. All that spilled from my mouth were long, broken moans as I fucked his face, gutturally pleading for more. He flipped me onto my back roughly before spreading the lips of my soaked pussy apart, attaching his lips quickly and sucking at that perfect spot. I screamed, shrill and high as though I'd been stabbed while he giggled in excitement against me. The vibrations of his voice against my clit sent me higher, my head digging against the sheets as my back arched high away from the bed. My hands slapped against the bed, my legs trembling as I rode his face. Lost to the world, Mike is the only thing that grounds me, his fingers gently tracing patterns against the insides of my thighs while he watched me come undone with nothing but love and pride in his eyes.

He didn't relent, releasing my clit to lap up my glistening cum eagerly before returning to the bundle of nerves, flicking his tongue against it before sucking it once more, bringing me back to the same edge as I begged for mercy.

"Gonna scream, gonna scream, gonna-" my harsh whispers turned into a scream once more as I cum again, my hands finding his dark curls to force him to stay against me, my hips grinding harshly to fuck my clit into his mouth properly. His eyes relaxed, looking completely lovesick as I muttered rapid praises to him, tugging on his hair hard enough to make his eyes water. He moaned seemingly with no control against me, face red as he obeyed with no complaint.

"So good," I tell him. "Taking me so well. Letting me fuck your face like I own you. Fuck my face."

I felt his fingers find my entrance, slipping two inside of me with no hesitation as cum dribbled out of me. I clenched around his digits, my voice breaking as he massaged my top wall, searching inside of me to help me find a new peak. He moaned against my clit, eyes wide and begging for more as he watched me carefully. When his fingers brushed against that perfect spot, the one that makes me fall silent, he knows he's struck gold. His fingers begin slamming into my g-spot, curling and fucking me until I screamed out one more time, my body going limp as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. It's like I speak in tongues, the only language I'll probably ever be able to speak again after what he's done to me. I shake terribly as he sucks a few more smaller orgasms out of me, milking me for all I'm worth before pulling away, standing tall and chuckling as he slipped his middle and ring finger into his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue. His face and chest are covered with me, the shine of his gold ring dulled from the dried cum. He pulled his soaked shirt off of himself, flinging it into a corner before walking around to the side of the bed, gently sitting down next to my head to stroke my forehead.

"You okay?" He asked gently, smiling proudly. I moan in response.

"Need some water?" He asked, leaning closer to press a kiss to my cheek. I can smell myself on him, thick and heady. I moan again, trying to nod but unable to. "Maybe a snack?"

At that I grab at him, pulling him closer to press his lips against mine. He allowed it, humming happily against me as he gives me a gentle kiss, loving and careful as though I could break easily. I probably could.

I whined when he pulled away, but I'm instantly sated as he scooped me into his arms, pulling me against his chest to rest us properly against the headboard of our bed. He leaned over to open a drawer on his nightstand, pulling out one of the water bottles we kept in there. Carefully he moved me into a better sitting position, then opened the bottle and held it against my lips.

"Drink," he said softly. I accept it, gulping the cold liquid as my senses begin to return to me one by one. "Good girl."

Once I finished he placed it on top of the nightstand, then held me to his chest once more to lay against the bed.

"Good warm-up?" He asked me.

"Not entirely sure that didn't do the trick right there," I said. My voice is rough, threatening to break with each word. Mike laughed loudly, his chest rumbling against my ear.

"That good?" He asked, smiling widely.

"I'm ruined for anyone else," I told him. His fingers grazed my jaw, tilting my face to meet his eyes.

"Good."

His lips are gentle as they guide me back into a kiss. It's me who deepens it, grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck, silently pleading for him to continue. He takes the hint, one hand holding the back of my neck to keep my mouth close, the other trailing down my chest, fingers making quick work of the clasp on the front of my bra. He pushes the item away, cupping my right breast gently as his thumb gently strokes across my nipple, making it harden underneath his calloused touch, making me gasp.

"So sensitive," he remarked, smirking. "Could do anything to these and you'd be my willing bitch. Such a pretty girl."

I moaned eagerly into his mouth, tugging at his hair and pressing my chest against his touch. He adjusts my body, guiding me to straddle his lap properly as he guided the robe off of my shoulders, letting the material fall to my elbows. He pulled away from the kiss, admiring the hickies adorning the column of my throat.

"So pretty," he mused. His finger trailed from under my chin to the valley of my breasts, then back up again. "Do you know how pretty you are?"

"You tell me every day," I laughed softly, blushing. He hummed, his arms moving to support my upper body as he leaned me back.

"Doesn't mean you know," he said. He sucked new dark spots onto my chest, continuing his trail until it ends at the bottom of my ribcage. "Dressed so pretty for me, wearing nothing under your pretty robe. Keeping yourself easily accessible like the pretty girl you are."

It was easily his favorite nickname for me, calling me 'pretty girl' more often than my own name. Sometimes I think he only calls me by my name just to remind me he does know it, although I won't lie that I'm disappointed when he does it. The first time he called me by his favorite name was the first time we had sex. He was balls deep and panting, desperate for air as he pumped in and out of me. I think it had slipped out by mistake, based on the way his eyes widened after he said it. He was so shy in the beginning, his inexperience obvious but not damning. It was cute.

His lips trailed from the bottom of my ribcage until he found the bottom of my left breast, accenting it with little marks wherever his mouth landed.

"You want my cock?" He asked me, breath fanning over my breast. I nodded eagerly. "Use your words," he reminded me.

"Yes please," I said quietly. He laughed against my skin, nipping close to my nipple.

"Aw, she has manners," he said sweetly. I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Don't be a brat." He chided at my response. I smiled at him.

"Or what?" I asked innocently.

"Or I'll find something else to do," he said.

"Like?" I pressed.

"Like fuck myself until there's nothing left for you to take," he said smugly.

"You're no fun."

"I'm very fun, that's why you're going to behave."

"It's more fun if I don't."

At that he latches onto my hard nipple, biting and lavving his tongue over it while moaning greedily, watching me through his dark lashes as I leaned back, pressing my chest against him as much as I could, rocking my hips against his as I lost all other thought.

"There she is," he said, his voice low and gravely. "There's my girl."

He layed me down gently, spreading my legs wide open for him. He undid his jeans, taking out his cock and stroking it while he admired me from above.

"Tempted to just watch you," he said, his hand slowly trailing up and down his throbbing length. "You look so perfect, all red and dazed."

I whined, reaching for him and wrapping my own hand around his cock, stroking him at a slightly faster pace.

"There you go," he crooned. "Get it ready."

I pumped with more vigor, watching his face as I felt him twitch under my grasp. Deciding he was satisfied he gently grabbed my wrist and pinned it above my head, then guided himself to my entrance.

"How do you want me, sweet girl?" He asked softly, smiling above me.

"I don't wanna remember my own name," I said quickly. "If I can walk across this room by the end of it, you need to try again."

He raised his eyebrows, smiling down at me. "Eager?" He teased.

My response is a sudden moan, my cunt clenching around his thick cock as he sinks into me, burying himself to the hilt and making me feel as though he'll split me in two.

"You're tight," he groaned in my ear. "You want it fast?"

"Yes."

He grabbed the back of my knees, pressing them to my shoulders as he pistoned in and out of me rapidly, moaning at the feeling of my cunt swallowing him eagerly, clenching at every vein, every inch, slick and desperate for his seed.

"It'll take better like this," he moaned. His jaw is slack, panting as his balls slap against my ass, heavy and making me clench with each thrust. "Been thinking about this so long.'

I tried to respond, but all that escapes me are the tongues from earlier, moaning gibberish as all I can focus on is him fucking me into stupidity.

"You'd look so pretty with a baby on your hip. My baby," he groaned. His tip finds my g-spot, making me cry out loudly.

"Right there," I chanted quickly, eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"Yeah? That the spot?" He asked. "Can you hold this knee for me, baby?"

My body automatically obeyed, quickly holding one of my knees right against my body as he moved his hand to settle on my lower stomach, pressing down as he fucked me hard enough to make a small bulge whenever he slammed his dick fully into me.

"So cute," he praised. "Such a pretty fuckin' pussy. You know that?" I moan, my vision and thought completely fucked.

"I keep telling you to use." Thrust. "Your." Thrust. "Words." His third pointed thrust tears a scream from my throat, making him smile. "Does this sound like a suggestion? Because I promise you that it's not."

"I have a pretty pussy," I moaned without second thought. My voice is soft and frail as I chant the phrase over and over, not stopping even as he cooed sweet praises in my ear.

"Gonna look so pretty with my baby," he said. The smacking of our skin is loud, echoing through the room with each new thrust. "Maybe I'll give you another." His balls stick to my skin, tacky from my cum that drips out of me onto the newly washed sheets. "Just keep giving you my kids until I can't anymore. God, I hope this fucking takes."

I'm still chanting the phrase, stupid and willing to do anything so long as it means I will be rewarded with his cock. He smiled down at me, his eyes fluttering shut as my pussy swallows him whole again and again.

"Need you to cum baby," he said, his voice strained. "It'll take better if you do."

"I'm close, Mikey," I whined. It was a nickname I only used in times like these, too stupid to say his name properly.

His hand shifts lower on my belly, thumb snaking down to rub tight circles onto my hard, pulsing clit.

"Gonna make you mine. Gonna make you a mother." He is completely lost to the world, eyes shut in bliss as his thrusts grow deep and shallow, making me begin to grow quiet as I focus on my orgasm. "Jesus Christ, I love you."

A loud cry escapes me as my muscles contract around him one final time, hard enough I can tell it almost pushes him out of me completely. At the feeling of such a strong grasp Mike comes undone too, painting the inside of my cunt a pretty, pearlescent white as he unloads right next to my cervix, burying himself as deep as he can before resuming his pace with newfound vigor, moaning with every new thrust.

"Again," he moaned. His chest presses against mine, our bodies intertwined into such a tight mating press it's hard to tell where I end and he begins. "Wanna make sure it takes. Wanna make sure it takes."

I can't help but laugh in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of my head as I nodded happily, taking as much as he was willing to give me.

"I'm not gonna last long," I said, the overstimulation already turning my face red as I felt the knot in my stomach begin to tighten once more.

"Good," he growled. "I'm not gonna stop until I fucking break you."

His words send me over the edge again, my voice louder this time as I begged him to break me, to fill me, to-

Much to our immediate frustration, it turns out Abby did remember to call, making Mike yell into the bed in frustration before he slipped out of me to race to the living room, making quick work of the conversation before almost slamming the phone down in excitement, rushing down the hall once more to return to the immediate task at hand.

"Where was I?" He asked me, mischief sparkling in his eyes as he quickly climbed back on top of me.

"You were telling me you want like six kids right before damning the one we're already raising," I teased, smiling.

"Well, maybe not six," he admitted. He glanced down to my aching cunt, admiring the sight of our mixed cum leaking out before sliding his dick back inside to plug the hole. "But what's one more?"

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

This was fucking filthy. I have no apologies. Take your problems up with God, he's the one who put me on this earth.

Taglist:

@jhutchissupercool @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support! <3

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justmywriting1313 · 22 days

Text

Stupid British Man (John Price x f!Reader)

This is fairly unfinished and an unedited product of my fixation on these stupid military man and every hurt/comfort scenario you can think of but nonetheless enjoy!

PS:- I would really really REALLY love some COD requests since thats where the inspiration for writing is flourishing soooooo yeah please send stuff in thank you<3

Summary: John's a great captain but like all men in love he is also a stupid british man!

Warnings: Talk and direct mentions of smexy times, no aftercare (but not intentional and will come in part 2)

Jonathan Price is a military man...

More than that, he is a captain and a military man...

A captain in the military needs to embody many qualities, one of the most important being the ability to remain strong and stable in the face of adversity, anchored and calm in uncertainty, and always aware of their surroundings, especially when confronted with unprecedented situations that demand logic and rationality.

It's a trait John was not only confident he possessed but one he prided himself on (considering he was the captain of three complete muppets at times). Yet, as he stands there in his flannel pajamas, his member still damp and somewhat aroused from the recent pounding he gave you not five minutes ago, a warm washcloth in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, John has never been more flabbergasted in his life as he watches you cutely jump to pull your leggings up over your waist.

You had already fastened your bra and were now pulling your old university shirt over your head, a shirt John had previously loved. However, given that he had finally slept with you after a two-month deployment, he would prefer to see you in his clothing or nothing at all. Therefore, the sight of the worn-out piece of cloth offended him, to say the least. Even more so, because neither of you had received a lick of aftercare and the lack of it was making him antsy. Instead of waiting for him in bed like you should have, you were rummaging through your duffel bag for something John couldn't be bothered to inquire about. He was certain that nothing was important enough for you to leave the sheets before he had a chance to clean you up properly. So, with as much calm as he could muster, he said,

"What on fuckin' earth are you doing?

The heavy, accented voice of the captain makes you jump as you straighten up, not having heard him come in. You whirl around to face the man you have been infatuated with since your first meeting, the same man who fulfilled so many of your fantasies over the last few hours and is now standing in the doorway of his room with a flabbergasted look about his rugged face. The tears you had been doing a good job of suppressing so far immediately reappear, though you were adamant about not letting them fall… God forbid you be known on base as the girl who cries after sex. Instead, you give him a smile before turning away as you begin to wrangle your hair into a ponytail and reply,

"What do you mean, what am I doing, John?"

John can only splutter at your nonchalant response, his brain having completely short-circuited… Clearly, something is lost in translation.

You only shrug at his shock before continuing to gather your spread-out things into your small bag, trying your best to curb the small, pathetic whimper that is bound to leave your lips if you spend any more time in this man's room surrounded by so much of him. Instead, in the heavy silence of the room, you mull over the events of what got you in his bed in the first place…

You and John met 8 months ago when you were brought onto his military base as a licensed psychologist specialising in psychotherapy for young adults. Your main job was to work with the younger recruits, which included the ones trained by John's own men. John can still recall the first time he saw you as you came barreling in through his door, your angry voice bouncing off the walls of his office. You were a small thing, barely reaching the bottom of the man's chest, with long hair and high cheekbones. You were dressed in leggings that flared at the bottom and drove John insane, with a striped sweater on top, your soft curves visible through the knitted material.

You were the most tender thing he had seen on base, and despite all this softness, you squared off against the military captain, demanding to speak to his lieutenant and give the man a piece of your mind for traumatizing your recruits more than any battlefield could. John had never been rash a day in his life, and yet he had promised himself he would make everything and anything to do with you a personal matter.

You, on the other hand, had not perceived the butterflies the older Brit gave you until the next day when he had come knocking on your door. Dressed in a tight shirt and his camo pants, he was every girl's dream. It didn't help the butterflies in your stomach when he looked down at you with soft eyes while properly introducing himself. He then led you to the rec room of his task force where his lieutenant was sitting and brooding.

Thus began eight long months… Months of teasing glances exchanged across busy meeting rooms that made him grin and you blush. Soft touches shared either against the back of your hand when you stood side by side or across your cheek as he tucked your hair back. Eight long months of late-night talks where he would seek you out, wherever you were, with a drink of your choice in his hand and an endearing look about him as he let you jabber about how you miss baking and he told you about his parents. Eight months spent with your heart in your mouth as you watched him leave with his team, a desperate prayer for his safety on your lips as he held you against him the night before, limbs tangled together innocently yet intimately. Eight months of yearning that would only grow stronger every time he came back, his eyes finding you in a sea of military personnel and lighting you on fire each time.

And despite all this wanting, two months ago, the night before he was sent out for the longest mission yet, you overheard him with Ghost in the rec room. The box of cupcakes you smuggled into the base held tightly as the tall, rough captain unknowingly broke your heart.

"You say professional sir but everyon' sees the way you look at 'er... the little medic..." "Don't know what you're talkin' about Simon..." Price chuckles and you assume Ghost gives him a look as John continues, "Hell even if I wanted to and I am no' saying I do, I cant do anything about it can I?... she's a kid AND she's military personnel" "Then the late nights in your office are what... just meetings to go over paperwork yeah? Just a little overtime is that it?" "Come on gotta pass the time between deployments somehow" "Is that so then mind if I tell Soap–"

Thats all you had the stomach to hear, although had you stuck around you would have heard the captain confess his love. Instead you made your way to his office where you left the box of baked goods on his table and fled to your room. You spent the night muffling your tears as you came to terms with what you were to John versus what John is to you... The following morning, as you waved some of your recruits bye, your eyes met John's hurt ones, his gaze heavy with questions about where you were last night but you looked away.

Unbeknownst to John his worst worry was coming true when the two months of his deployment gave you enough time to misunderstand your importance to him. That while John was the sun to you, you were a small star in a distant galaxy that had no hope of being anything more than that... And yet you knew you would take anything he gave you, no matter how much it would hurt.

Which is why when he knocked on your room door in the middle of the night, his hair still wet from the shower he had barely managed to squeeze in, eyes tired, lost, and desperate you didn't hesitate. You didn't hesitate when his arms went around your waist drawing you into his chest, head pressed into the crook of your neck as you pressed him into you. You didn't resist or clue him on the turbulence in your head when he pulled away although barely. His hands moving from gripping the back of your shirt to your waist, grip tight as he hefted you into the air forcing your legs to wrap around his waist. Any shock on your part absorbed by his mouth as his lips found yours, your hands coming to hold his face. The kiss was desperate, it was messy. A clash of tongue and teeth as he quickly took control. You hadn't stopped to think or really breath, instead letting John fill the crevices of your mind as he carried you through the empty hallways of the barracks. Somewhere in the back of your head you wondered how no one spotted you but you were quickly distracted by his hand on your ass which kept you pressed up against him. The other on the back of your neck never letting you pulling away long enough and following your mouth as you did so. You never stopped to spill the pent up hurt that had festered unknown to the man as you whimpered into his mouth when his fingers found just the right spot, his muttered praises only getting you to your finish faster...

Your little trip down memory lane as you stuffed another shirt into your bag gave John time to get over his shock, taking a deep breath as he placed the washcloth and bottle on his nightstand. His surprise was now replaced by a desire to fix the situation.

Another aspect of being a captain was observing people, learning to read the little things about how people behaved, and now that the shock had worn off, that's what John set about doing. He watched the tension in your back gather as you stuffed your things into your bag… mementos left over from other nights that John treasured. Things that he would be pulling out of the bag as soon as he had things sorted. He watched with narrowed eyes as your face got redder, the desperation with which you were trying to hold yourself together scaring him…

Something was wrong, and he had been so consumed by his need to see you, to feel you, to know that you were alright, that he didn't stop to consider how things had been left off… To remember that you never came to his room the night before he left and that you didn't look at him at the drop zone. John realized then that whatever had upset you that night had two months to fester in your mind and that he couldn't let you leave in any capacity before everything was laid out.

He shuffled his way over to your figure as you rummaged for your ID card in your bag, needing it to get back to your room. His large hands slid into place on either side of your waist. You jolted at the sensation, registering that his hands were warm while straightening up. John didn't let your tensing stop him as he gently turned you around, his grip turning a little forceful when you tried to resist, but eventually you gave in. Your splotchy cheeks and bitten lips greeted him, and he couldn't help himself when he pressed his lips against your forehead, muttering into your skin as he did so,

"Sweetheart... whats going on?" "What do you mean John?" "I mean whats going on... whats got you packin' up your bag hmmm? Can't imagine you've got an important meetin' this time of the night have you? We also hadn't really finished had we?"

Johns doing his best to catch your eye as he talks but its futile when you keep your gaze steady on anything but his face.

"You wanted to go again?"

John balks at that response. Is that really why you think he wants you to stay? Is that really what you think of him?

"What? No no darlin' I mean you were up before I gotta chance to clean you up... I don't know about the men you've been with before sweet girl but a gentleman cleans up his lady... and of course a cuddle after..."

He pouts through the last part though you don't look up to see it. Your eyes remain trained on his muscular neck and John does his best to remain patient. He knows you, no matter how foreign your apprehension of him may feel right now. He knows you and he knows you're hurting which is why you're avoiding his eyes because the minute he gets you to see him you break,

"Oh... oh you don't have to John... I'm alright I can just go, I'm sure you're tired and want to rest and i don't want to keep you..."

John groans lowly in frustration at you not getting his point, his grip subconsciously tightening as if you would run off the minute he lets go and to his credit thats not a difficult situation to imagine,

"Fuckin' hell, okay sweetheart lets try this another way. Why do you think you have to go anywhere huh? I though' we could lay down and have a cuddle... even took the day off tomorrow to spen' it with you yeah? Want to know what you've been up to? Maybe step off the base and take you out for a proper meal?"

With each word out his mouth your confusion and hurt climb reaching a crescendo until your ears are ringing and you need to get away from this sweet talking brit before you crumble. However, Johns a stubborn man particularly when he sets his mind to something so no amount of squirming on your end makes him let you go as you begin to blabber each source of pain out in the open,

"Let me go, let me go, let me go John... You're so mean you know that? So so so mean... You come into my life all soft and sweet and gentle with me calling me pretty things that I've only imagined being called and you came in and made me care about you when I was so happy in my own bubble but still I started to care and then I find out its only for me to be something you pass time with nothing more and then you come back and I love you so much that ill take anything I can get from you even if its one night and then you have the audacity to stand there and be all sweet and caring when you and I both know that this will never be anything more and you know what maybe I am a child because this is too much–"

Your ranting is cut off by John whose own pulse has become frantic at all that you've laid out before him. You love him! Wait why do you think this is a one night thing? what do you means passing the time? One hands grips your upper arm, the other forcing your face up to look at him as your fists continue to push but to no avail,

"Whoa whoa okay look at me... look at me sweet girl... not letting you go until I ge' your eyes on me yeah? You can fight all you wan' but 'm not letting go until you get you damn eyes on me yeah? Come on... there you go good girl now what do you mean something to pass time with huh? What got that daft idea into that pretty head or that this would be a one night thing? Talk to me yeah "

John's barely finished before the words escape you in a breathless sob

“You, you stupid British man!”

Okay I was too excited to post it so here but if the reception to it is you know good ill post the second bit which is already written 👀

As always please reblog yes? yes okaieee byee

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tsumtsumrry · 11 months

Text

Favorite Holiday

this follows harry and a cutie (you) through some of your favorite holidays as you guys navigate a little fun friends with benefits/situationship stitch. i feel like this took forever so sorry for my near disappearance but i hope you enjoy!! <3

**disclaimer** i'm american so i have the dates (e.g. 11/24/23) month/day/year format. just to avoid any confusion!! <3

WC: 12k.

warning(s): afab descriptions and she/her pronouns, language, multiple instances of smut (fingering, phone sex, f receiving oral use of a vibrator, unprotected don't do it p in v), barely proofread cause i was too excited to finally post it, and a bit of angst.

March 20th, First day of Spring.

The holidays were always your favorite time of year. Every single one for that matter. Every holiday has its own special place in your heart. New Years, Easter, Christmas, etc. You loved them all the same. But you looked forward to them even more so this year. Because this year you had Harry.

Harry, who was sitting across from you right now, laughing as he animatedly tells one of his horrible but adorable jokes. You have the stupidest grin on your face, with your eyes set on how his lips form the words coming out of his mouth. You can’t seem to look away. It doesn’t help that he keeps sneaking glances at you, those suggestive eyes that only you know burning into your face.

He plans to take you home tonight, you can tell. You two have been going at this for months, the no-strings-attached sex thing. You think it’s easy enough. There’s never been any real difficulties, just the fact that you’re trying to keep it discreet.

The first kiss was at the New Years party. You were both tipsy, he confessed that he always had a little fixation on you and how you looked in “all those pretty outfits you like to wear” and you confessed that him and his “fancy british accent”, “pretty tattoos”, and “ridiculously charming personality” never failed to have you imagining kissing those incredibly soft looking lips.

He looked at you for a second, his gaze moving from your lips to your eyes as if he was trying to gauge where your head was at. Then, at the perfect timing, the clock turned twelve and your lips were intertwined. The rest is history.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you bite your lip, fighting hard to hide the smile that threatens to overtake your face. You know exactly who it is.

You pull your phone out and smirk when you read it.

H 11:34PM

Need you tonight, baby.

It’s been too long since he’s touched you, you missed it so much and he couldn’t go another day without you. You look around a little, trying to make sure no one is looking at your phone (only making yourself look more suspicious in the process) and then begin typing back.

You 11:36PM

And what do you suppose I do about that?

You look up at him when you know he’s seen the message. You smirk at him and he gives you a look that says ‘you know damn well’ but he texts back anyways.

H 11:37PM

Come to mine tonight. Let me fuck you.

As soon as you read the text your stomach erupts with butterflies, you always have an instant reaction to his words. You press your thighs together and try your best not to squirm.

He doesn’t need to know that though, so you answer with a simple,

You 11:40 PM

Ok.

You push your phone right back into your pocket and try your best to continue with the conversation that’s getting passed around the table. But thoughts of him keep creeping in. Thoughts of his voice in your ear, the feeling of him inside of you, stretching you and filling you, his hands gripping you roughly or gently, depending on how you feel, all you can think about is him.

“It’s getting late, you guys. I’m exhausted. Loved seeing you all.” you finally say, not being able to take much more of wanting something when it’s literally right in front of you and not being able to just take it.

“Me too. Got an early morning. See you.” Harry says after you, looking at you not-so-discreetly as he gets his stuff.

When you’re both outside he instantly pulls you away from the windows and kisses you. It’s hard and passionate and needy and it’s almost like he―

“Missed you.” he says in between kisses, his hands going to grip your waist tightly, like he’s yearning for the skin to skin contact.

“Yeah?” you whisper, tugging on his bottom lip which earns you a pained groan.

“Fuck. Mhm. Missed you so much. You smell good.”

You giggle at his admission about your scent and decide to spur him on even more.

“Show me. Take me home, H.”

Waking up next to Harry is something you simultaneously love and wish you never got to experience. Because when this little arrangement is over, you know you’ll miss it too much.

When he wakes up, he doesn’t treat you like his fuck buddy, he treats you like some sort of girlfriend. And you haven’t let it detrimentally affect you yet, but you know it will. And the day it does is when you’ll know you need to end this. End it before someone, scratch that, you get hurt.

“Mornin’, angel. Want some breakfast?” he says, his voice gravelly but also smooth like toffee and it sounds weird but you want to taste it.

“Mhm. Whad’ya making?” you mumble, eyeing his lips.

“Whatever you want. Kiss?”

You smile and lean up to kiss him, taken by surprise when he deepens it and pulls you over his lap. You giggle into the kiss and he smiles with a short chuckle.

“Want anything before I go make it?” he says, obviously trying to start something.

“Harry…”

“Just asking, sweetheart. You know I always want you.” he says with a kiss to your collarbone, “only you” he says softly as if it wasn’t meant to be heard.

“Stop trying to sweet talk me. Go make breakfast.” You push yourself off him and he whines, but obliges, going to make that lovely french toast he knows you want.

You sit up to look through some emails when you hear it, his phone buzzing incessantly on his counter.

You know it shouldn’t bother you, you’re just friends who happen to enjoy each other's sexual company. The idea of him having someone else that he whispers sweet nothing to in his ear just doesn't feel right to you.

You pick up the phone, keeping it face down, (not wanting to see something you know you don’t want to) and walk to the kitchen where Harry is mixing some yummy smelling batter.

“Think someone is trying to reach you.” you try to come off as cool and collected, and you almost convince yourself that you are, but you know you’re not. You curse your sensitivity and watch as he picks up the phone but puts it back down, face down, just as quickly.

“Makin’ your favorite.” He rasps out, turning around to smirk at you. He frowns when your expression isn’t one of your usual excitement.

“You okay, baby?” he inquires, setting the bowl of batter down on the counter and walking over to you. He takes your hands in his and playfully looks into your eyes with faux intensity, “tell me.”

“I’m okay, yeah. Just tired.” It’s only now that you actually wonder how many times you’ve told that lie.

“Worked you over good last night, hmm?” He smirks and you roll your eyes and smile despite yourself, “you sounded like you were having a good time.” he adds cheekily and before you can stop it a giggle breaks from your lips.

“I was.” His ability to make you feel like everything is okay with just a cheeky smile and a couple of words breaks you and mends you at the same time.

“Good girl.” he whispers against your lips, kissing you slowly and softly.

“Back to the food!” he exclaims, breaking away from you to saunter back over to the counter-top.

“Wanna be my sous chef?”

April 1st, April fools.

You never understood the fixation with men’s hands until you started sleeping with Harry.

“Fuck.” he drags out the vowel sound as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, stroking your g-spot in a way you can only describe as affectionately rough, “look at you princess, taking my fingers so fucking well.”

“H..fuck I—” you’re cut off by your own loud moan, praying that no one can hear you two. Your friend group planned a little get together given the fact that it’s april fools and you guys have nothing better to do. You all decided to host it at Harry’s place and he lasted about ten minutes trying to be a good host before he dragged you into the bathroom with a phony excuse that you’re almost sure nobody believed.

When you reach up to cover your mouth, he tuts softly and reaches up to tap three fingers against your hand, signaling he wants it off, “s’my fucking house we can be as loud as we want. You know how much I love your pretty sounds, why’re you trying to keep ‘em from me, huh? Being bad?” he says in that condescending tone that you simultaneously love and hate.

“N-no, please H. M’not being bad jus-just please.”

“Love it when you beg. Soaking me like this and I’ve only given you two fuckin’ fingers–”

“Gonna cum.” you interrupt him with your frantic moan, he’s always very adamant about you asking for permission. He needs to be in control like that. He needs to have that control over your body and your pleasure. He thrives on it. “Can I please, please cum?”

“Fuck. You’re sqeezin’ me so fucking tight. Gonna make a mess all over my fingers, baby? Give it to me.”

“Yes, yes yes” you feel that white hot pleasure building in what feels like every nerve in your body and your muscles start to jerk as you cope with all the pleasure overriding your system. You ramble out a couple praises mixed in with Harry’s name and your hand tangles in his hair which he groans at. You pray to every god that you can think of that nobody downstairs can hear the way he’s ruining you.

“There you go, baby.” he doesn’t stop with his fingers, keeping a rhythm that only intensifies your release. When you choke on a moan that sounds more like a sob, he kisses your temple gently and soothes you with his voice, “I know, I know. Feels too good, doesn’t it?”

You’re not sure if he expects a response, but even if he did you’re not in any state to give one. His fingers have turned your brain into a mushy mess.

“You’re okay darling. Always making me so proud.” He whispers as you come down, slowly pulsing his fingers inside you still to help you ride it out.

“Jesus christ.” you sigh and he chuckles softly.

“What was our excuse again?” he asks before leaning down to your lips to kiss you, his kiss full of the lust that’s swimming in his forest eyes.

“Dunno, something about getting the movies that we were gonna watch,” you giggle softly against his lips and he smiles.

You get some movies from his bedroom so that you don’t seem too suspicious and go back downstairs to your friends. The heat of embarrassment makes itself known every time someone asks you or Harry what took so long or what distracted you up there.

“What could you guys possibly have been doing for eight whole minutes?” a friend of yours asks incredulously with a joking tone.

“We couldn’t find the movie we wanted. Duh.” Harry shoots back with a quickness, smirking softly when he looks over to you. And he can read your body like a book. He knows you’re a little embarrassed at the idea of people finding out that you guys have been fooling around.

You’re playing with the lobe of your ear as everyone takes in Harry’s response and laughs. Someone tells another joke that just amplifies the laughter but Harry’s only looking at you. Playing with the lobe of your ear is one of your many obvious tells with your anxiety. He makes a mental note to check on you later.

During the movie he plops himself right in between you and one of your friends, making both of you giggle. He swings his arm around your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear. The heat and tickle of his whisper sends a shiver down your spine and you know that the position you guys are in is less than discreet but you can’t really find it in yourself to care when he’s close like this. “You okay?” he asks in an earnest tone, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder for good measure. You nod softly and he smiles, softly tugging you closer.

April 9th, Easter.

Easter was always a fun holiday, especially for your god children, you always loved to see the little kids run around in search of the little painted eggs. It reminded you of a time when you were in their position, blissful and young. You often refer to those as the ‘good old days’, but you can’t quite complain about how you ended up.

You’re talking to your sister’s baby boy when your phone rings, you pull it out to see a picture of Harry sleeping in bed and you smile, you remember when you took that picture.

“Hello?”

“Hi, pretty. Where are you?” he sounds kind of breathless, like he’s been running a mile.

“At an Easter egg hunt. You?”

He chuckles darkly before speaking. “Dunno. Just missin’ you.” he says. You squint your eyes in suspicion.

“Missing me?” you say with the same suspicion laced in your voice. You’re starting to understand what he’s playing at.

“Missing your sweet cunt. God, the way you taste. Need you on my tongue.” he spews out in what seems like one breath.

“Jesus Christ, Harry. What has gotten into you?” you hiss, quickly getting up out of your seat and away from prying eyes and ears.

“God, I can almost imagine it.” you hear his whisper and the neediness radiating off of his voice makes you press your thighs together. He’s touching himself. He’s fucking his hand to the thought of your taste and it’s driving you mad. “Want you to sit on my face next time, have your thighs shaking around my head, your pussy drenchin’ me―fuck!” he whimpers.

“Harry…” you say, it’s supposed to be some type of warning but the arousal starting to pool in your underwear has your voice coming out shaky and unstable.

“Love it when you say my name like that. Again. Say it again, please baby.” he begs, shamelessly. You can tell he’s close, the strain in his voice, the crackly over-the-phone sound of the wetness of his strokes.

“Harry I―”

“Fuck fuck fuck, I fuckin’ need you. Please, please.” he keeps whispering the word “please” under his breath, gasping out moans and whines, “gonna cum, gonna cum.”

You decide there's no harm in spurring him on a bit, “come for me, Harry.”

You hear a broken “fuck” before a series of his beautiful sounds fill your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught of stimulation, butterflies swarming around in your tummy.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah fuck.” you whisper and you hear his laugh on the other end.

“Sorry―Sorry I um― called you like that. I just, fuck, really needed you. Was so fuckin’ hard. Y’have no idea.” he breathes out.

“I…um. I missed you too.” you don’t know why you cringed at yourself after saying it, but it’s almost like Harry can read your mind because he chuckles and speaks in a reassuring tone, “that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. When will I see you again missy?”

“Dunno. I’ve been a little busy with work and…stuff. I’ll have my people call your people to see when I can fit you into my schedule.” you joke, biting your lip softly and toying with your necklace as you wait for his response.

When you hear a soft laugh a smile is immediately brought to your face. That laugh could melt you. His voice is like velvet when he speaks, “I’ll have you soon. We both know you can’t stay away. You need me for my slutty waist and washboard abs as you usually say.”

You try your best to hold in your laugh so as to not inflate his ego, but it slips out before you have permission and both of you are laughing before you feel a delicate tap on your leg. You’re met with your nephew when you turn around and look down to find the source of the touch.

“Can we pway more bunnies?” your nephew says to you and you nod softly, “just give me one second honey.” He nods and walks back to the place you guys were sitting and you smile as you watch him.

“I’ve gotta go but I’ll text you, alright?”

“See you soon, petal.”

May 31st, Memorial Day.

“That kiss the cook apron is really working for you, Harry I’ve got to say.” you giggle at your friend Jamal’s shout at Harry.

It’s another one of your favorite holidays and you and your friends are all at the beach. The sun is beaming on your skin and warming you in the best way while the breeze balances it out, cooling you in the places needed. “Take it off! Take it off!” you join the chant, having trouble even speaking in between laughs.

“You guys are fucking ridiculous” Harry chuckles. He smirks and reaches behind him to pretend to take the apron off, laughing when everybody’s cheers get louder.

When the food is done and everyone is full, the girls lay on the sand while the guys are across from you guys making sandcastles like children. You look over at Harry and feel your stomach twist in a way that it’s been doing recently that you can’t stand. He just looks so good. You don’t know how else to explain it. Especially in this light, the warm sunset creating a golden glow against him. The soft amber tones kissed his skin and the sunshine he usually radiated with his personality seemed to radiate physically, as if he was being infused with the sun’s very essence.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sitting up to go and talk to him. He looked up at you in the position he was in on his knees and smiled, his eyes squinted from the direct sunlight.

“Hey. Fancy going for a walk?” the way he says it seems like he’s been waiting for the opportunity to do so. The sun shifts and his expression softens as he awaits your response.

You nod and put your hand out for him to take it, and he rolls his eyes playfully but takes your hand anyway. You try not to think about what the rest of the group might think as you walk away with him, hand in hand. It’s not lost on you that you guys look like a couple, but Harry has always been touchy with his friends, some might say too touchy, so you pray that they’ll just attribute it to that.

He swings your hands as you guys walk, and constantly rakes his fingers through his damp hair with his free hand. You kind of wish he wouldn’t because you love the way his curls fall over his face.

“I feel like we’ve both been so busy. I haven’t gotten to see you as much as I want to.” You stop walking, you guys are a bit of a good distance away from everyone else and he’s starting to get more affectionate with you. His hands trail up to your arm to cradle your neck and he rubs your jaw affectionately. He leans down to ghost his lips against your neck and whispers, “I’ve missed you.”

There’s something so poetic about the way his voice carries with the wind and the distant sound of the waves crashing around you guys. You melt into his hands when his lips finally make actual contact with your skin and you have to fight hard to suppress the whimper that threatens to leave your mouth.

“Tell me you’ll come home with me tonight. Please.” He suckles on your neck gently, causing the moan you were suppressing to finally force its way out.

“I will. Anything you want.” you pant out, tangling your hands into his hair. You sigh when he pulls away from you but you can’t complain when you get the view of the sun reflecting in his eyes. It feels like you’re frozen in time as you look at him. The sun has set a bit more and the atmosphere is colored a fiery orange that bleeds more into a red. His eyes mimic the water in the way they glisten and his pink lips almost make you weak just looking at them. Especially considering the way those lips were just all over you.

Harry’s staring at you in awe, the way the deep colored rays dance against your skin made it seem like a thousand stars fell from the sky just to adorn you. You’ve always been beautiful, but in this very moment, you’re transcendent. To him it’s like you constantly exceed any expectation for beauty he could possibly have. Everything about you is like a masterpiece to him. He wonders why it took him so long to grasp just how weak the sight of you makes him. He gives you one soft kiss and then pulls back too quickly. He takes your hand and starts walking with you back to the rest of the group.

Looking at him now, you wonder why it took you so long to grasp just how deep you are in this. Having thoughts of freezing time and staying in this moment so you can look at him forever are dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that almost make it seem like you’re in love.

Dangerous.

October 31st, Halloween.

“Jesus, babe.” Harry brings his finger up and moves it in a circular motion, “do a spin for me.”

You giggle and spin around, making sure to do it slowly so he can really take in the way this dress hugs your figure in all the right ways. He whistles and you can’t stop the laugh from leaving your lips.

Ever since your realization at the beach, things have been so simple between you two. You thought it would complicate things, but everything has been perfect. So incredibly perfect. It’s almost like he knew that you were starting to feel something more, the way he’s been treating you these past couple months is so different. Different in a good way. The amount of attention and care that he’s devoted to you makes your stomach with more butterflies than you can handle.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you tell him, walking up closer to him, having to look up at him. Your confidence wanes the slightest bit at his intense eye contact when he looks down at you with an amused smirk on his face.

“Yeah? I look good enough for you?” he quips, dangerously close to your lips as he speaks, “I was worried you know? S’hard to measure up to you.”

Ever the flirt, he is.

“You’re overdoing it now.” you deadpan and back away from him, making him throw his head back in a cackle. It was Harry’s idea to go to the Halloween party in matching costumes. You were a little shocked at first but you’d never turn down an opportunity to match with the most fashionable man you know.

“Our ride is gonna be here in about….” he looks down at an imaginary watch on his wrist, “fifteen minutes. Whadya say we sneak a quickie in?” he smirks at you and chuckles when you roll your eyes.

“It’s this fucking outfit,” he practically growls, his hands palm at your ass, “driving me insane, baby.”

“And whose idea was it?” you tilt your head as you speak, making a point to move his hands from your ass to your waist. “I’m not gonna be late because of you again, Harry. Keep your hands at appropriate places at all times.” you scold him.

“Yes it was my idea,” he sighs. “A very good but painful idea that I take full credit fo—” a car beeping outside interrupts his sentence and his brow furrows while you smirk at him.

Right…fifteen minutes.

Getting in the car and seeing all your friends dressed in all their Halloween outfits already has you excited for the rest of the night. Harry was very adamant about your seating arrangement when the car got too cramped, eagerly offering up his lap as a seat replacement for you. You of course took it, and you’ve spent the whole ride fighting your body’s natural reaction to his little teasing touches.

You want to kill him by the time you finally arrive at the party. He knew exactly what he was doing in that car, he knows the effect his touches have on you and you know he’s doing this as “payback” for how you’re torturing him in your outfit.

It’s not hard to make your rounds and do all the socializing that you’ve equipped yourself for before Harry is immediately stealing you away from people.

“Wanna dance with you.” is all he says, dragging you to the dancefloor. You look around as you guys settle, the vibe around is nothing short of raunchy. Looking at all of the other couples around you, you can tell that they all want to take each other home and tear each other’s clothes off. After cooling off with a couple drinks and conversations, you weren’t exactly in that mindset anymore, but you have a feeling that Harry is about to take you right back there.

His hands smooth down your waist, boldly cupping your ass and he slowly grinds against him to the rhythm of the song, you feel his gentle breath before you hear his voice. “You’re killing me, petal. Been picturing tearing this dress off of you all. Fucking. Night.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you let his hands lead you as you push your head further into his neck, “M’not doing anything though. What’s got you this worked up?” You pout at him condescendingly. He knows feigning innocence when he’s needy like this is your favorite thing to do. It makes you feel a sort of power that you usually don’t get with him to hear him say that you make him into a mess.

“You fucking know, baby. You know what you’re doing to me.” he’s whining out his words at this point, and you thank god that the music is as loud as it is so everyone else can’t hear how this man is falling apart in your hands.

“Can’t think of anything else. The only thought in my mind is watching you come on my cock. God it’d be so easy to just fuck you right here. Know you’ve already made a mess of yourself. It’d be so easy to give you what I know you need right now.”

You’re panting at this point, delirious with pleasure. It should be illegal the way he can talk you into almost anything with that voice. You don’t care about anything or anyone else around you, all you can think about is how desperately you need him to quell that ache that’s building inside you.

“Fuck. Take me home. Take me home right now, H.”

As soon as he hears you he’s moving. He doesn’t even bother to let your friends know where you’re going. He just drags you outside and starts tapping on his phone to get you guys an uber.

The ride to his house is tortuous. He sits you in his lap almost immediately and his hands find a home on your hips, making a point to drag you slowly back and forth across his thigh.

Every roll against his thigh drives you further and further into oblivion and you don’t think you can wait any longer to get what you so desperately need. You suppose you’ll let him have his fun though, his little taste of “payback” for how bad he’s been aching this whole night.

The second the driver stops, it’s like Harry couldn’t get you off of his lap fast enough (something you never thought you’d say) and he’s dragging you up to the house. He wanted to kiss you as soon as you got out of the car but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate doing that in front of the driver. No matter how turned on you are.

As soon as you guys step into the house, he closes the door behind him and his lips are already on you. Your mind is instantly turned into mush with the way he claims your lips. It’s like he can’t even wait long enough to get you upstairs. He’s immediately getting down on his knees and kissing and sucking his way up your thighs, “so fucking beautiful and soft. You feel like a fucking dream. Dreamy girl.”

He trails his hands slowly upwards and takes a hold of your thin lace panties. Although he pulls them down gently, you can see the impatience in his eyes and feel it in his grip. He’s beginning to lose his resolve and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Your skirt is pushed up and resting on your hips before you can blink. The way you’ve been pressing your thighs together since you got in the house has been deemed useless when he forcefully pushes them apart, his hands gripping the flesh so hard you fear it might leave marks.

“Wanna feel you come on my tongue. Missed it so much. Will you let me?” he sucks marks that only the two of you will be able to see in your inner thighs. You can barely find it in you to answer his question. Everything about the way he’s touching you, to his voice, to the smell of his cologne and your arousal mixed together is heightening all of your senses and making your brain short circuit.

You nod hoping that would be enough, but you should’ve known better. “Words. You know better, baby.” he tsks, continuing his kisses along your sensitive skin.

“Yes, yes. Please.” Is all you can manage to get out. The second the first yes leaves your lips, his mouth is exactly where you need it the most. He’s not wasting any time tonight, getting straight to the point of making you lose yourself on his tongue. Usually he drags it out, edges you or teases you with his tongue, but he’s aching so bad. He needs to be inside you before he loses his mind.

His tongue swirls messily against your clit and you’re so sensitive that you tense with almost every stroke. He’s moaning against you in a way that you would find obnoxious if it wasn’t him, but because it is him, it just adds to your pleasure. He’s behaving as if he’s a man starved. As if he’s been a dessert and you’re that stream of water that he’s been yearning for.

You tangle your hand into his hair and let your head tip back against the door. You can’t be bothered to worry about the volume of the moans you’re letting out and how they travel through the empty house. You’re too consumed in how good he’s making you feel. That’s the good thing about having a sexual partner like this. You’ve had so much time together and he’s made the most diligent effort to learn your body. He knows every signal, every tick, every indication. And he uses it all to his advantage.

You sob lowly when he slides his fingers into your heat, immediately curling them up to hit that spot that makes you shake. You pull your head off of the door to look down at him, only to find his eyes already on you. His intense green eyes bore into yours and it’s almost as if they’re communicating with your eyes. He urges you to let go for him with that unspoken language that you’re now fluent in.

He fucks you deep with his fingers while his tongue continues it’s very skillful ministrations. Every time he moans into your cunt the vibrations just push you further and further into bliss and you’re almost embarrassed with how close you are so quickly. The sounds you’re making are bordering on pornagraphic when you start clenching down hard on his fingers you know you’re a goner.

He pulls away to egg you on with his voice, “there you go, baby. Getting so fucking tight for me.” you moan at his words and nod. As much as you love the way his tongue was working magic on you, the one thing that will always get you to fall over the edge is his voice.

He’s evil, you decide. He’s evil for the way he toys with your body like he owns it. And at this point, he does own it.

His tongue is back on your clit to offer you that final push off of the edge, he flicks his tongue and sucks with a pressure that you can only describe as mind numbing. Every movement he makes just makes the release that’s brewing even stronger.

A complete mess of syllables leaves your bitten lips as the white hot pleasure consumes you. It feels like a tidal wave swallows you up in its strength and you see no way of coming up for air. You choke out a series of moans that Harry only groans at while he continues to softly lick at your clit and thrust his fingers inside you, like he intends to keep you under.

The hands that were in his hair tug hard as the soft licks start to become a little too much for you to handle. A slightly higher pitched sound leaves him and he relents reluctantly, “can never get enough of your cunt, petal. Never.” He leaves wet kisses all over your thighs in between more praises that you barely register with all the pleasure swimming in your mind.

One thing you can register though, is how bad you need him inside you, “take me upstairs, Harry.”

He stands up almost immediately at that, and he smirks before leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You giggle at his antics and he only chuckles, kissing your cheek as he leads you two up the stairs.

November 23, Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is by far your favorite holiday. The way you get to spend time with your family, the (amazing) food, just the atmosphere of being happy and thankful with people you love, you look forward to it every year. You’re chilling next to your sister on the couch at your parents house, laughing at one of your dad’s jokes.

You guys have already eaten and you're completely full and sated as you enjoy the company of your family.

The amount of times you’ve checked your phone should be considered embarrassing, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop. You invited Harry over for dinner. And it’s really no big deal, he’s been your friend for a while, long before the whole arrangement started. And he’s met your family so many times that they wouldn’t even bat an eye. His family lives in London and he’s in the U.S. for work so he’s come over for Thanksgiving plenty of times.

You feel a nudge on your shoulder and you look over at your sister who has a soft knowing smirk on her face.

Uh oh. You know that expression.

You give her a deadpanned look, “what?”

Her smile grows at the way you can read her so well and you urge her with your eyes to tell you what’s on her mind.

“So…what’s going with you and Harry?” her eyes are squinted in that specific way that tells you that she knows exactly what’s going on with you and Harry, she just wants to hear you say it. “It’s just…you guys have been posting each other a lot, tagging each other in posts and all that. And the last time I saw you guys, you seemed super domestic.”

You don’t doubt that. Even though you and Harry still place yourselves under the “friends with benefits” label, you guys have gotten way closer emotionally. You’re always together now. You sleep over at his house almost every night, sometimes without even sleeping together. You guys have been glued at the hip ever since Halloween. And it’s great, honestly. It feels great.

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” you shrug your shoulders and a sheepish look graces your face, “I think I sort of…like him”

Your sister can barely register what you said before your head is snapping to the sound of the doorbell ringing. You look back at your sister and she smirks at you softly with a soft raise of her eyebrow.

Your mom gets up to open it and immediately shrieks in surprise, “Harry! I had no idea you were coming!” you smile at the genuine joy in her voice and then at Harry’s voice when he speaks, “she didn’t tell you I was coming?” You can hear the smile in his voice and it immediately brings the one you were trying to hide back on your face.

“And you brought a date!” your mom exclaims.

Your smile drops.

Your heart follows your smile and you immediately feel a pit deep in your stomach that twists and twists until you can’t take it anymore.

A hot wave of embarrassment comes next when your sister tenses next to you. You had just told her that you actually might like someone, that you actually might like Harry. And here he is with a date.

Your mom steps aside to let them in and your stomach twists even tighter. She’s beautiful. And you’re sure she’s kind and charismatic and perfect and everything Harry would want and deserve in a woman.

You don’t even wanna see the look on your sister’s face, you don’t want to see the pity in her eyes when she realizes that you’re completely hopeless.

You feel tears gathering in your waterline and you blink them away. You almost want to feel angry. He brought her here? At your parents house? You know that technically you two don’t owe each other anything but there’s a level of respect that you figure one is supposed to have when sleeping with someone.

You suddenly feel scared to see his face. You wonder if he’ll look guilty, or completely indifferent. You honestly don’t know which one is worse.

You’re even more nervous that he’ll see your face and realize how much this is hurting you. How much it’s hurting you to realize that, although you two are friends, he never felt for you what you felt for him. That you were just a warm body he used when he needed it, and you happily offered it to him. Over and over.

A plethora of emotions hit you at once, and after you cycle through confusion, sadness, and anger, you just feel stupid.

Your mom says your name and you’re very harshly snapped out of your thoughts, “figured you’d surprise us for the holiday, huh?” your mom has the most gentle smile on your face and it almost makes you crumble more. You look over to your mom and you immediately feel his intense gaze on you. That same intense gaze that used to make you melt only makes all of your muscles seize in the worst way at this very moment. You refuse to meet his eyes cause you know that if you do, you’ll break.

You force a smile and pray that it’s not too obvious how you’re not even acknowledging him, “guess so, mom.”

You and your sister share a look and you communicate without words that she’ll cover for you if you have to leave. She nods at you with a knowing look and you return the look, mentally preparing yourself to lie to everyone here and say you have to go.

You pick your stuff up and get up to walk towards the door. “Harry,” you address him for the first time since he came, “thank you so much for coming. I didn’t think you’d actually make it.”

He furrows his brows and leans towards you, extending his arm out to pull you into an awkward side hug, “of course I’d make it.” you feel yourself tense as you feel his touch and you hope he doesn’t notice. You nod against his shoulder and sigh. His cologne envelopes your senses and you bask in the comfort of his warm hug. You’re utterly torn between the two feelings it offers you, a feeling of discomfort conflicting with a feeling of home.

“How are you? You look lovely.” he kisses your cheek and the all too familiar feeling of his stubble rubbing against your skin threatens to bring a new wave of tears to your eyes.

“I’m fine–” you barely get the words out before he’s interrupting you. A huge smile graces his face and he looks down at the girl he’s got his arm around, squeezing her shoulder gently before he speaks and you already know what he’s going to say.

“I want you to meet—”

You can’t do it.

“I’d love to talk but I’ve got a work emergency and I really need to go.” you watch his face drop. His eyebrows furrow tightly together and a frown graces his face. You can tell he’s confused, he knows that you would never leave Thanksgiving early for any work emergency and you would never leave as soon as he shows up.

You go to walk but his hand leaves his date like he’s been burned by her skin and he reaches out for you, grabbing your arm tight. His eyes are swimming with an expression you can’t quite place and he squeezes your arm with a quick pulse, “where’re you going? I just got here.” his voice dips and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s hurt by you leaving. Right now you can’t even begin to worry about him being hurt with the pain radiating in your chest right now.

“S’work, H. I’m really sorry,” you turn to address the girl next to him, “it’s really nice to meet you. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk more.” and with that you’re out of there before anyone can say anything else. As soon as the door shuts behind you, you take a deep, shaky breath and bring your hand up to your neck to soothe the ache that’s developing in your jaw from holding in your tears.

You decide then and there that you need to get it together. Harry doesn’t owe you anything, you guys are strictly friends with benefits. You weren’t supposed to get attached and caught up in the strings. You’ll try your absolute best to be a mature adult about this and not take your pain out on him cause as much as this hurts you, he doesn’t deserve to be treated the way you treat people when you’re hurt.

And with that decision, you come to another. You need some time apart from Harry.

December 24, Christmas Eve.

Christmas Eve. Another one of your favorites. The anticipation and festive energy in the air felt palpable and everywhere you looked there was joy. The land outside was covered in white and the air felt crisp and cold. You loved the kind of air where it gave you little goosebumps as soon as you stepped outside.

You’re watching a cheesy romantic Christmas movie, simultaneously loving and hating it. Loving it because it’s adorable and makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, hating it because you definitely wish that the leads were you and Harry and it’s making you want to die.

Just as the male lead tells the female lead how much he’s really been crushing on her the whole time they’ve been trying to save her mom’s restaurant, your phone begins to buzz. Unfortunately for you, it’s been buzzing all day.

Harry.

Over and over again.

He’s been texting and calling and truthfully, he actually sounds really concerned.

Harry 11/28/23

Hey petal. Been trying to reach you for a bit. Is everything okay? We good?

Harry 12/1/23

Miss you. Text me.

Harry 12/3/23

Answer meeee please?

Harry 12/7/23

Feel like you’re avoiding me.

Harry 12/7/23

Did I do something? I’m sorry if I did.

Harry 12/14/23

Just please let me know you’re alright. I’m getting worried.

Harry 12/17/23 Starting to think that you’re dead.

Harry 12/22/23

I’m gonna stop bothering you now. But I miss you. Please text me back.

Harry 12/24/23

Okay I lied about the bothering thing. I need to see you and I’m really worried and if you’re dead I’m gonna ask the police to do a wellness check. So answer me.

The sheer desperation in his texts almost broke you, but for all you know he just misses the sex, and the thought of that breaks you even more.

You grab the pillow on your couch and thrust it up to your face to scream into it. The second you get done screaming you hear your doorbell and you jump. You wonder who in their right mind would be out in this weather but you pause your movie and go to open it nonetheless.

What you didn’t expect was a Harry Styles covered in snow at your door.

“Hey...can I come in? S’snowing like really hard.” It breaks your heart a little the way he added that last bit in, like you would refuse him otherwise.

“Of course. Do you want any tea?” you ask, trying to avoid the elephant in the room in case that’s not why he came here.

“No I’m― I came here to um…talk.”

Fuck.

“Okay.” You giggle, trying to lighten the mood but his sullen expression stays put.

“I’m still gonna start the kettle in case you want any―”

“Why’re you pulling away from me?” he blurts out.

“Wha―”

“I literally haven’t spoken to you in weeks. Have I done something wrong? I―I” he pauses to compose himself and your frown deepens, “I miss you. Miss you so much and I just wanted to make sure we were okay.”

You push yourself away from the couch and walk up to him, making sure to keep eye contact knowing how important it is to him,”of course we are, H.��

“You haven’t spoken to me in like a mo―”

“Shh, shh. Was just swamped with work. You know how I get all in my head.” You know you shouldn’t be lying to him, you really shouldn’t. But the way he’s talking like the idea of you purposely ignoring him breaks him, you don’t have it in you to let him suffer any longer.

He nods and you smile at him, bringing your hands up to tangle in his hair, “we’re okay. I promise.”

“Promise?” he whispers and your heart flutters.

“Yeah.” You hate lying to his face.

You start your steps to go to the kitchen but his grip on your wrist pulls you back, nearly crashing into his chest.

“Want a kiss, please.” his voice never leaves that soft whisper. You lean in to give him a soft kiss, suddenly feeling a pit in your stomach that only deepens the closer you get to him. You’ve always had a bad habit of putting someone’s comfort over yours.

“Do you want tea?” you whisper against his lips.

“Always want some fuckin’ tea.” he says with a smirk and a quiet chuckle, that joyful inflection back in his voice and that familiar sparkle back in his eyes.

When you step out of the kitchen with the tea he’s sitting on the couch in a relaxed manner, picking at the loose strings in your pillows and watching the movie you have on. His lips stretch in a gentle smile when he sees you and you force yourself to return it.

You sit down next to him and he places his hand softly on your thigh, leaning over to you to place a soft kiss on your jaw. He trails more and more down to your neck and you feel your stomach twist. Your hand shoots to his chest to halt any further movement and you rush out words in a short breath, “We can’t.” There’s a beat of silence. He backs away quickly to not make you uncomfortable and you sigh and whisper, “...I can’t”

Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze and you can tell that without an explanation your rejection stings him a little.

“Don’t you have like…a thing? With that girl you brought to Thanksgiving?” you watch his face twist tightly in confusion and you can’t bear to hear him make excuses or lie to you so you just continue to ramble, “does she even know that you’re sleeping with other people? With me? Like if I was your girlfriend I’d be pretty fucking pissed that you’re over here and touching me after bringing her to Thanksgiving of all places—”

“Shut up.” He cuts off your ramble sharply. You suck in a breath at his tone (and after speaking all those words without a break) and your chest tightens at his stern expression.

“W-what?” you fumble through the word. Never in your life have you seen him this angry. He’s looking at you with a gaze that can only be described as absolutely vexed.

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” If there’s one thing Harry is, it’s smart. He’s absolutely not an idiot. But you absolutely are for not realizing just how well he knows you, “you’ve barely spoken to me for a month. Didn’t answer my calls, texts, not going out when you know I’d be there because you thought I’d betray your trust like that and just pop up one day with a fucking girlfriend!?” You can tell that he’s trying to control his volume and anger. The way his fist and jaw is clenched is an obvious indication.

“Well what was I supposed to think, Harry? You brought her and she was beautiful and you had your hand on her wai–”

“And you weren’t gonna let me explain myself!? I’d never do that to you. It was—We–we had a deal!” he exclaims incredulously, ducking down to meet your eyes when you try and look away.

“I know we had a deal, H. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions—” He interrupts you again and you sigh deeply.

“And I can’t believe that you would think…I thought it was different…I thought you…” he trails off, his voice getting softer as his speaking slows.

“You thought I what?” you ask urgently. He looks down at his hands and picks at the nail on his thumb. You frown softly, “you thought I what, H?”

His expression almost looks tortured as he trains his gaze on his fingers. You suddenly feel terrible. You ignored him for so long all over a simple misunderstanding. You think back to the moment that it all happened and figure you might have avoided all of this if you just let him properly introduce her like he was trying to. Your lip trembles softly at the idea of hurting him and he sighs.

“I thought you felt the same way as I did. I thought it wasn’t just a deal to you.” he admisses so very quietly. So quiet that if the TV was any louder you wouldn’t have heard it. His brows are tightly knit together and his lips are turned down into a deep pout.

Harry almost regretted it when he said it. He knows that if you truly don’t feel the same, it’ll never go back to the way it was, and he’ll lose the person he cares about the most. He’ll lose the person he loves the most. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest and he avoids looking up at your expression in fear that your expression will be less than kind.

He speaks before you can even process what he just said, “Ellie’s my cousin.” he breathes out a humorless laugh, “the girl I brought to Thanksgiving. I thought you’d love her.” the soft tone and volume of his voice remains constant.

You feel like your brain just short circuited. Harry just told you that he actually has feelings for you. That all this time he’s been thinking about you in the same way that you’ve been thinking about him. All this time.

And you’re sitting here like an idiot letting him stew in confusion and not saying a word.

“Oh my god.” you gasp like you’ve suddenly been slapped back into reality. Your hands rush over to him like they have a mind of their own with thoughts that tell them that they need to be close to him. You grasp his face in your hands and pull his head up so you can look into his eyes.

“H.” you sigh. He watches your mouth form around the word and he decides right then and there that no matter what you’re going to say next, no matter if you reject him and tell him you could never see him that way, you will always make him weak. Looking into your eyes will always break and mend him at the same time, the sound of you saying his name will always make him crumble.

“Of course I feel the same way. Are you kidding? I thought that you didn’t.” you finally, finally admit. It immediately feels like a giant weight has been lifted off of your chest and you almost wanna cry at how freeing it feels.

“Are you serious?” he laughs, although you can see that his eyes are a bit glossy. You pout softly, nodding and leaning down to envelop his lips in yours.

“I’ve always needed you, petal. Even before the sex. I need you to know that.” he speaks with conviction. He needs you to know that it’s not just the sex muddling his brain and making him attached. He really truly loves you. Everything about you.

“I know, I know H.” you nod again.

“You’ve got no fuckin’ idea how much I missed you, petal. No clue.” His voice is thick with emotion, but also filled with that familiar lust that you missed so much.

You scoot closer to him on the couch and throw your legs around his lap to straddle him, “feel like showing me?”

He chuckles darkly, his hands quickly landing on your waist. His mouth closes to form into a smirk when you blatantly offer your body up for him like this. A soft noise leaves you in reaction to the tight grip he has on your waist.

Your hips take on a mind of their own when they start to shift against him. A soft hiss followed by a groan leaves his lips. It’s like your lips are magnets the way you can’t keep them away from each other. He leans up to kiss you and the movement of your hips intensifies.

You can see it in his eyes that he’s thinking of some sort of punishment to sort out your behavior of the past month. The intensity in his expression makes you feel a sort of anxiousness that throws you for a loop. You feel a little scared, but all the excitement and anticipation just overrides that tiny bit of fear.

He leans closer to you to leave open mouthed kisses all over the exposed skin of your chest, he kisses until he reaches the fabric of your shirt and his hand falls to your ass, gripping it tightly while urging you to continue the movement of your hips against him.

“Gonna have to teach you a lesson it seems.” His voice is husky and deep when he speaks, you know that he has the capacity to absolutely ruin you tonight, and you know that he will.

He taps your hip with his fingers, his usual signal that he needs you to stand up. Your brows furrow in confusion briefly, but the confusion is gone as soon as it came when he speaks.

“Do me a favor, honey?”

You nod eagerly.

“Get out that vibrator you’ve got in your dresser, clothes off and wait for me in your room.” His voice held a velvety, sensual tone, and combined with what he said, you’re nearly weak in the knees. When you stand there for a moment, having a bit of trouble getting your body to move as fast as your brain, he urges you with a raise of his eyebrow and you immediately spring into action.

You hear his quiet murmur of “good girl” as you start to walk to your room. Every nerve in your body is buzzing with anticipation. Harry is already amazing in the bedroom with just him, imagining the pleasure you’ll feel with him and the toy is making you squeeze your thighs together and your eyes shut as you dwell in your thoughts.

You sat down on your bed (very submissively, you hope it’ll get you some brownie points) with your vibrator laying next to you. Just when you’re starting to get impatient, the door opens with Harry on the other side of it. There’s a very distinct hunger in his eyes as he looks at you, as his gaze travels the length of your body. You can tell he appreciates the way you’re sitting.

He doesn’t waste any time walking towards you and kneeling until his knees touch the floor and he’s level with where you need him the most. His hands find purchase on your thighs, immediately squeezing and prodding at them like he’s playing with his favorite toy (which he technically is), “you’re so good for me, petal. Doing as I asked.”

His eyes flick up to yours after he speaks, and the eye contact, especially when he’s got that look going, makes you melt. You’re hyper aware of the tortuous way his hands are trailing upwards. He knows the way his touch works you up no matter where it is, and he’s using it to his advantage.

A sharp gasp rips from your throat when he spreads your thighs apart. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten from just the anticipation and thought of what he’s going to do to you. The groan that he let out once he saw what a mess you’ve made is an indication that he was pleased.

“Jesus, petal. Look what you’ve done…” he stares at your center with an expression of deep desire as he reaches out a hand to trail two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertips, “messing up your sheets, baby. This all for me?”

You can’t help but obediently nod, meeting his eyes with a pleading look, “only for you, promise. Please?”

His face is painted with an expression of faux confusion, that condescending look that makes you clench around nothing and tip your head up to the ceiling in frustration. You know from that look this is going to be harder than you thought. He’s in the mood to tease. He’s going to break you.

“Please? Please what, baby. What do you need from me?” You’re impressed by the way he’s looking at you like he’s actually concerned and wondering what you want, and although you know it’s an act and he’s not asking because he truly plans on giving it to you, you still give in.

“Touch me, Harry. Need it.” You should be embarrassed at the whiny inflection in your voice as you beg him, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel shame when you’re aching as bad as you are.

“You need it?” He teases and you know even he’s getting tired of this waiting game because his expression has melted down into a lazy grin, enjoying the way he’s torturing you.

You can tell that he isn’t exactly mad any more, which you’re grateful for. He’s just enjoying toying with the body that he knows so well.

You scoff and roll your eyes, pushing your hips towards him needily. It earns you a dark chuckle and a sigh, “alright, alright.”

Without leaving his position on his knees, he reaches for the vibrator. Before you can beg any more, he’s switching it on and bringing it down to where you need it the most. He doesn’t even offer up a warning before he’s placing it directly on your clit, ripping a shocked moan from your throat.

“Yeah?” His voice is taunting and low, and if the vibrator was any louder you wouldn’t be able to hear him, but it still hits you right in the gut like his voice usually does when he talks to you like this, “is that good? Right here?”

“Fuck, yes. Stay right there.” you stutter through your words in a way that you know he’ll tease you for later, but you don’t have the brain capacity to care right now. All you can think about and feel is him, that vibrator on your clit, the way he’s talking.

When he presses it harder against you, you breathe in deeply, exhaling in a whiney moan. He’s making you unravel at a quick and embarrassing pace and the sensations are overwhelming you. Your hips start to shift in tandem with the way he’s slowly rubbing the head of the vibrator back and forth against your clit, the sounds that leave your throat travel straight to his cock that’s still confined in his pants. He growls lowly when he notices your thighs start to shake and leans closer to suck kisses into them, “close already? Fuck look at that, honey…” he’s referring to the way your arousal is coating the toy. He almost feels tempted to bring it to his lips and clean it off, “this dreamy cunt needed it so bad, hm?”

You couldn’t respond even if you tried, your brain a mess of syllables and sounds that you’re meant to put together. All you can manage is a string of whimpers as you get closer and closer to your peak.

Harry watches your every move, so in tune with every twitch of your body and every sound you make. He moans along with you as you come undone, making sure to keep the toy right where it’s been to help you ride it out, anything to keep making his girl feel good.

You reach for his hand to ground you and he quickly gives you what you need, interlocking your fingers and groaning when you squeeze tightly, “there you go…fuck.”

You push yourself away from the toy when it becomes too much as best as you can, desperate to escape the onslaught of overstimulation and he chuckles, pulling the toy off of you. You can barely grip your bearings as he brings the toy to his lips to clean off with his tongue, he moans needily when he tastes you and squeezes your hand as if to say he’s proud of you.

He puts the toy down next to you and starts to kiss his way up your body. Mumbling little words of encouragement and praise on his journey to your lips.

“Did such a good job.”

“M’so proud of you.”

“You come so pretty.”

“So beautiful.”

When you guys are face to face he pinches your lips with his fingers before he leans down to kiss you, moaning into the kiss since he was deprived of them in the short time that he was making you come.

“Hi.” You breathe out in a chuckle, your mind still muddled from the post climactic haze. He returns your greeting, his voice soft and tender with an adoration filled expression on his face.

“Aren’t you like–” you motion your head downwards to refer to the way he’s straining in his pants and a chuckle leaves his lips. He nods gently, still staring at you with that fond look in his eye.

“Mhm.” he mumbles. He repositions himself so he can take off his clothes and after he teases you for nearly drooling over his abs, comes back down to rest against you so that your chests are touching, “you wanna keep going?”

You know he’s asking to be respectful, but you can also tell that if you say no he’d probably cry. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh and see the strain in his expression. He subtly shifts his hips every so often against your skin and you have to fight back a smirk at how needy he is.

You nod before you remember his thing about verbal consent and you mumble out a soft yes. As soon as he has your permission, he’s connecting your lips and lining up his tip with your entrance. He drags his tip back and forth against you, your body twitching in sensitivity every time he passes over your clit.

A guttural groan leaves him as he finally fills you, a groan that melts into a whine as you clench down around him tightly, forcing yourself to adjust to the burning stretch that you’ve missed so much.

“Fuck, I missed you.” The sound of his voice and the sounds he’s making just make you clench down tighter around him, “how do you always feel this fucking good? Squeezing me like a vice, pretty.”

He sets a rhythm that has him hitting that spot inside you that makes you melt every time, somehow even though he’s been aching in his pants for so long his focus still remains solely on bringing you pleasure, making you feel good, “s’that okay, sweet girl. S’it good for you? Am I giving this needy cunt what it needs?”

You know he doesn’t expect you to respond but he speaks anyway. He’s well aware of the effect his voice has on you.His deliberate thrusts gain more momentum with every reaction you give him. He truly feeds on your pleasure. It’s as if he suddenly remembers the emotional turmoil you forced the both of you to go through the past month, because his thrusts begin to get more purposeful. Rougher, more pointed motions of his hips rip noises from you that you’re sure is gonna give you a sore throat later.

His hand wraps around your throat in a firm grip, leaning down to grit words out into your ear, “you’re mine, understand that? You’re mine. And I’m yours. No one else’s. I belong to you, petal. Just you.”

He fights the strong pull in his chest that tells him to tell you how he really feels, how in love he is with you. How you consume his every thought and how your touch is unlike any other touch he’s ever felt. From the first time he was already addicted. You’re unlike anyone else that he’s ever met, you feel like home.

The force of his thrusts knock all of the air out of your lungs, and all you can do is nod and mumble out an agreement. You need to be his. There might not be anything that you want more right now. Hearing him confess his feelings for you right now as he’s fucking you into oblivion do all the right things for you, and like clockwork, he immediately recognizes what you need and switches back on the vibrator, bringing it right back down to your clit.

“Fuck that’s it, baby. Am I fucking you right, petal? Yeah? Fucking show me then. Come for me.” He presses the toy harder against you and rolls his hips in just the perfect way that makes him rub against that perfect spot inside you and you realize now that he made good on his word of teaching you a lesson. You are sufficiently taught.

He whines loudly at the feeling of you coming around him, mumbling out praises and thank you’s as you milk him for everything he’s worth, “shit, m’gonna fucking come. Fuck keep cumming, baby. Keep fucking squeezing me like that–” his words are cut off with a series of noises that you know is going replay in your head on loop.

He rides out his pleasure with slow, lazy thrusts, hiding his face in your neck as he tries to cope with all the pleasure that’s wracking through his body. You tangle your hands in his hair to offer him some comfort, both of you breathing heavily. He continues to mumble praises into your damp skin, filling you with a warm fuzzy feeling that transcends anything you’ve ever felt before.

When he catches his breath he turns his head to rest it on your shoulder and speaks, “you know I meant it right?”

“Meant what?”

“I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

December 31st, New Years Eve.

Your friend’s makeshift bar is bustling and you chuckle as the poor untrained bartender is trying to grapple with it all. You’re sipping slowly at a glass of champagne when you feel a strong arm link around your waist.

“Mm hi baby.” his deep voice reverberates through your entire body as he speaks directly into your ear. You melt into his grasp and your lips break into a smile that you couldn’t stop even if you tried.

“Harry.” you say cheekily as your hands fall to hold onto his arm. He had just come back from an absolute killer karaoke performance next to your friend’s TV. The whole entire house was cheering for him as he belted out an incredible rendition of “Hopelessly Devoted to You”. Ever the performer, your boyfriend is, “you were amazing. As always.” you giggle and he presses a messy, wet kiss to your cheeks.

He is absolutely glowing tonight. Surrounded by his family, friends, and you. He’s beyond ready to spend the next year being annoyingly in love with you and attached to your hip. In fact, that’s the thing he’s looking forward to the most about the new year, going through every milestone, change, and holiday with the love of his life.

“Always strokin’ m’ego, petal. Looove you.” you laugh loudly at how inebriated he is and lean your head back against his shoulder to get closer to him.

“I love you too, H. I think you’re cut off though.” you chuckle and you can hear the pout in his voice when he speaks.

“Wha’? Wha’s wrong with you? M’not even that drunk m’love.” The irony of his words slurring while he’s trying to convince you that he isn’t drunk isn’t lost on you. You turn around to face him and it’s like his expression melts into a smile when he looks at you.

You don’t know how you never noticed it before, the way he looks at you. He stares at you with so much awe, so much reverence. Ever since you’ve noticed it the first time, it’s the first thing that catches your attention when you guys are together. That damn look.

“Y’so pretty.” He brings his hand up to stroke your face with his thumb.

You turn your face to kiss his palm and he giggles childishly, mumbling something about it tickling.

It’s not long before the countdown starts. Harry and you look at each other in anticipation, wanting to commemorate the first time you guys expressed the affection for each other that’s only increased ten fold.

“I think New Years is m’favorite holiday.” he mumbles out, looking down at you with that familiar fond look.

“Yeah?” you giggle at his admission, “why’s that, H?”

“S’cause it’s the day that I finally got you.” You can barely register the cheers of happy new year before his lips are on yours, claiming them and making you his. You pull away reluctantly to breathe and smile at him when you speak.

“I think it’s my new favorite too, baby.”

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles #harry styles fics #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harry styles fwb

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minarisplaything · 10 months

Text

Blackpink in Your Area (p1) ft. Jennie Kim

Pairing: Jennie Kim x Male!Reader Rating: Explicit / Mature Wordcount: 1.6k Summary: After her latest performance you find yourself sneaking backstage with your girlfriend.

AN: some context, this was made...god around the time of their first world tour? so writing wise it might not follow the same rhythm of my current stuff. but it's a personal fave i've had privately that i figure fuck it i might as well post it now. if you want to read a TWICE converted version of this chapter with Nayeon you can find it on my AFF profile but this is the OG never published version. Enjoy!

"Where are we going?"

"Ssh. Just come on!"

The accented voice leaves little room for argument as the owner's hand pulls you down another corridor. It seems with every turn you get further and further lost — which is likely the point. However, Jennie seems to know exactly where she is going, a small comfort at least. She pulls you down another tight passage then stops, pressing you against the cold wall. Instinctively you hold your breath before realizing you have no reason to — or at least you hope you don't.

"Jennie, you're acting like we're running from the cops," you speak, your voice a hushed whisper despite your previous reasoning.

"They might as well be the police," she responds, glancing back the way you came.

After another moment, she must be pleased that there is no one following you and turns to face you, a mischievous grin on her features. Without a word, she cups your face with her hands, bringing your lips down to meet hers in a slow, greedy kiss. Whatever concerns or confusion you had previously begin to fade away as your hands find their way around her. It has been so long since you had a moment together that you had forgotten how easy it was to melt into her embrace.

She pulls back, her nose brushing against yours. "If anyone saw us," even with your eyes closed, you can hear the relief and satisfaction in her voice. The kiss had the same effect on you. "This would be over and my career would be on the line," she places a kiss to your jaw as she speaks.

It is a bittersweet truth. What you have is masked in darkness and secrecy; not even the other members of her group know about you. If it were ever revealed to the public, not only would the fans and paparazzi eat you alive, dating is strictly against her company's rules. You always said that you would end things with her before you ever let that happen to her.

You feel her palm running over your cheek, your distressed thoughts likely showing on your face as your brow furrows. "Don't think about that now," she presses another kiss to your lips, then another and another; giving you plenty of time to notice just how soft and irresistible her lips are. By the fourth kiss, you are eagerly kissing her back, your hands sliding from her waist up her back, pulling her closer than you already were.

This time around your embrace is needier, hungrier; as if every second you were living on borrowed time. You feel her hands move from your cheek up into your hair, fingers running through and gripping at the short strands. Her teeth dig into your bottom lip, tugging on it while she peers up at you with those killer eyes of hers. The sight alone is enough to make your heart skip a beat.

"I need you," she says when she lets go, "Right here. Now."

As she speaks, one hand slides down from your hair, running over your chest and rubbing over your slacks. Her palm encourages the bulge that is growing there and you cannot deny that your arousal doesn't just come from her but the fact that at any moment you could be discovered. It is exhilarating in its own way. Adrenaline and lust are a dangerous concoction on any night but here with Jennie, it seems especially so.

You agree without a word, only giving a small nod of your head before you are spinning her around so her ass is jutting out to you while her hands splay against the opposite wall. She is still dressed in her stage outfit from the earlier performance, which doesn't help to subdue your eager hands in the least. She is stunning in every way, yet when she is on stage she still somehow seems to magnify that. Seeing the outfit just brings back memories of watching her earlier that night.

"Need some help there?" A teasing voice breaks you from your momentary recollection. Jennie is glancing over her shoulder at you, brunette hair partially masking her features. She has a vixen side to her and truth be told, you are used to her taking control and being in charge, but you also know that you cannot let this opportunity she is giving you go to waste.

In return, you offer her a smirk of your own, "Merely admiring the view." Though given your time and place, this is hardly the moment for appreciation.

You push her plaid skirt up, your hand dipping between her thighs. "You've soaked right through your training shorts, baby," you try to keep the arousal out of your voice, but the husky facade cracks just a bit. Jennie moans in response; the notion turns you on just as much as it does her clearly. "Just how long were you thinking about this?"

At first, it is a rhetorical question, but as your wrist snaps back and forth, fingers getting her off over her clothing, you find yourself eagerly waiting for an answer. Jennie does not give any; her breath comes out in quick hiccups. She leans further into the wall, her hips pressing out closer to you in obvious need. "Were you thinking about it during your performance?"

"Y-Yes..." she manages, her own hand reaching back to grip your wrist, refusing to let you stop. "When I saw you in the crowd — oh god."

You can tell she is going further and further down the rabbit hole. Her New Zealand accent becomes more pronounced the more aroused she gets. An astute observation you have made over your time together. It is not the only sign either; she is biting down on her plump bottom lip and her thighs are clenching deliciously around your hand.

Satisfied with her answer, you lean over her, your breath hot against the shell of her ear. "Baby, we don't have much time."

The idol takes a moment before she nods in response, her grip loosening on your hand. Your fingers deftly move from between her thighs to her waistband, pulling down her spanks to expose her to the night air. You make quick work of your pants buckle, or at least you try to. Your own eagerness causes your hands to fumble with it for a second before finally getting it undone and unzipped.

"Oh fuck..." Jennie moans loudly as you slide your length into her, and it is the most heavenly sound in existence. In any other time, you might've clasped one hand on her mouth to muffle the moans lest you be discovered, but in this moment, caution is thrown to the wind.

You can feel your cock swelling even further once you are inside her; the walls of her pussy clamping down on you. It takes you one thrust, then another before you are in to the hilt, a deep groan rumbling from your chest past your lips as you take a moment to revel in the sensation. That moment is all you allow yourself, however. Comparing it to the earlier kiss that had been the slow and eager first embrace; what comes next is pure hunger and lust.

Your hands grip her waist tighter as you pull out of her, hips snapping forward to meet hers. Another delicious moan reaches your ears as she lets her head fall back. Each thrust is harder and faster than the last, desperate to be with her and to have her coming undone in pleasure. Of course, to do that, you have to hold yourself together as well, and that is no easy task. "God, you feel so good."

The sound of skin slapping together begins to fill the space you have tucked into, mixing with the heavy breaths and moans that fill the air. You lean over her, one hand moving to turn her face towards you as your lips meet in a sloppy embrace. "I love seeing you like this. I want to make you feel this good all the time."

Jennie only moans in response, her mouth hanging open as she takes every inch of you. Your free hand moves from her waist to her chest; fondling her breast through her top. You have enough sense not to be so aggressive that you pop a button, but it is a tall task. The last thing you need is questions from the costume department.

"Fuck, right there," her hand reaches back, grabbing at your ass to force your cock back to hitting the same spot. Jennie is so used to being in control that you are almost tempted to deny her request. And maybe in a different time and place, you would have teased her for a bit before giving in. Now, however, you do not even have control over yourself, let alone strength to tease her. All you can do is what she asks of you. Hips move frantically to fulfill her desire, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

Her nails dig into your skin, and you can feel your own release coming as well. "I — I'm close!" you grunt in warning.

"Hold on, baby. Hold on, I'm almost there... almost...!" she goes quiet; her body tightening as her mouth falls open in a silent cry, her eyes shut tight as her orgasm runs through her. Fingers dig into the back of your neck as she comes, and it is just might've been the most beautiful thing you have witnessed since her last one. Jennie has never been the loudest when she comes undone, yet it is still enough for you to reach your breaking point.

"JENNIE?!"

Suddenly, a voice cries out, causing you to physically jump back, your cock springing free of Jennie's pussy, cum shooting in the air. When you look in the direction of the out crying voice, you are both aroused and horrified.

There stands Jennie's group-mate and best friend, Jisoo, her face coated in your cum.

"...Oh fuck..."

#male reader #blackpink smut #jennie kim smut #jennie x male reader #jennie kim x male reader #jennie kim x reader #kpop smut

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jsprnt · 18 days

Text

Americano PT. 10 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: wrote this in between study breaks, I’m totally spent 😭😭

W/C: 3.523

part nine

"So, uh- do you have any allergies?"

I mutter awkwardly, standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes on Jude as he sits across from me at the kitchen island.

He folds his arms across his chest, raising his head to look over at me.

"Are you planning something?" He eyes me suspiciously, causing a tired sigh to leave my mouth.

"Shut up- answer the question.." I raise my wooden spoon, threatening him.

"No, I don't have any allergies. Is that good enough?" He replies, Brum accent making him sound even more defensive.

"Ungrateful ass.." I mutter, turning around and starting to work on breakfast.

I had slept horribly after last night’s events. I'd reckon- maybe, six hours in total. It was our day off- thankfully, but that didn't mean that I trusted Jude to rummage through my house on his own while I rotted away in bed.

My dad had called earlier, wanting to explain the situation to me clearly without leaving any important details out.

Apparently, last night Jude's place was broken into again. This time, he was at home to actually witness it happen. I'm not sure what transpired between the intruder and Jude. Since, my dad had told me it would be too invasive for me to know.

From what I knew, it was the same person as last time- or how many damn times this had happened. This case had been keeping my dad busy for months now, and it only found a way to piss me off even more.

Either Jude had the shittiest security, or- did he even have security?

"Can't believe I'm cooking for you.." I mutter, hearing the drag of his house slippers against the floor as he walks up to me.

"What are you making?"

I move away, so he doesn't touch me, giving him a side eye as I crack four eggs in a pan.

"Eggs.." I say, moving back when oil splashes up.

"Can you cook?" He asks, eyes moving in between the stove and my face.

"Kind of.." I say, hesitating with my reply.

I knew how to cook the basics. Say, your pastas and soups. Though, I like to think I'm improving every time auntie Carmen comes over to show me how to cook another delicious meal.

"How do you like your eggs?" I ask, raising my head to look up at him. He has a confused expression on his face and his gaze is fixed on me.

Fuck, did that sound wrong?

"More runny or cooked?" I ask, grimacing to myself as I sprinkle salt and pepper into the pan.

"You've cooked it- enough.."

"Oh, okay.." I mentally curse at how stupid I sound, looking away from him.

I quickly plate it up for him, not forgetting the avocado and barely toasted pieces of bread.

Well, too bad for him.

We eat our breakfast without speaking to each other. I can only hear the crunch of my bread and clatter of the cutlery against the plates.

I look up at him when I've cleared my plate, wiping crumbs from the corners of my mouth.

"How long are you staying?"

"Are you trying to kick me out already?"

I give him a look, raising my brows as if to tell him he already knows my answer.

"I don't know- depends on the situation.." He says, rubbing his hands against his gray sweatpants.

I sigh, rubbing my temples in irritation.

"Where's your mom anyway?" I ask, remembering that they literally lived together.

"I made her go back to England for my brother’s games. She's always spending more time with me- felt bad for the lad.." He answers, looking away.

"Last night?" I ask, raising my voice in surprise.

"No, during international break. I wasn't playing remember.."

"Oh- that's good, I guess.." I trail off, realizing we're going to be home alone for a while.

Silence falls in between us, and I begin picking at the loose threads of my old pajama top. It was old, but so comfy to sleep in.

"Okay, uh- let's clean up, and I'll give you a quick tour of the place." I jump up from my seat, grabbing my plate off the table, and walk over to the sink.

I look back when he doesn't get up. I raise a brow, sending him a questioning look.

"What are you doing? Clean up.." I say, waving him over. I watch him grab his plate and cutlery- a comical sight that had me struggling to keep my composure.

He places the plate in front of me, looking at me like he's expecting me to do something.

I step back, folding my arms.

Woah, he looked clueless.

"Do you even know how to do- like the dishes or laundry?" I ask, eyeing him up and down.

"Not really.."

"You're what? Twenty and don't know how to do your own laundry?" I pull a horrified face.

"Do you think it's okay to freeload?" I question, immediately grabbing his wrist to drag him upstairs to the laundry room.

Did he think this was a five-star hotel or something?

"I can't believe I have to drive you there. Why don't you have a license?" I whine, walking into the bathroom and seeing him fix his hair. The array of skincare, haircare and bodycare all on the counter in front of him.

Why did I think that he only used a block of soap and aftershave?

He turns away from the mirror, taking a step closer to me as I passive aggressively grab my toothbrush.

"Why wouldn't you want to drive me?" He questions, his voice full of mockery.

I wet my toothbrush and the blob of toothpaste, starting to brush my teeth as I look up at him.

"Do you know how crazy it looks for a staff member to arrive with a player in her car?"

I mumble, probably half audible, as I spit foam into the sink.

He grimaces at me, and I watch him take a step away from me via the mirror.

"Oh, you're dramatic.." I mumble, running the brush over my teeth again.

"Everyone thinks we're together anyway- does it even matter at this point?"

I freeze, turning to him with white foam dripping down the corner of my mouth.

"That's even worse.." I shake my head, giving him a once-over before starting to rinse my mouth.

"Pre-match meal is at...?" I question, waiting for him to finish the sentence while I dry my hands and mouth.

"Half past two." He replies, making me nod.

"Okay- give me an hour.." I say, quickly running to my room to change and get ready.

It was match day against Granada. Thankfully, after this we got some more days off.

We had to get to the training center early, mainly due the fact that I had become Jude’s private driver.

When my father told me I had to drive him around, I almost fell to my knees in sheer despair, not believing the torture I had to go through.

I didn’t even get anything in return, well, maybe I’d bug my dad for another pretty handbag- or two.

Pre-match meals are usually about three to four hours before the match. Normally, I could arrive very late and still manage to snatch a nice plate, but because of Jude - that wasn't possible today, and probably until he’s moved out of my place.

y/n's only half-way through her 'getting ready' playlist when she hears multiple loud knocks on her bedroom door.

"What?! Stop banging on my door! You don't even pay rent!" She shouts over the music, watching the door handle twist.

She turns away from her vanity mirror, makeup brush in her hand, as she sees Jude walk into her room.

"Who invited you in?" She questions, gasping when he goes to sit on her nicely made bed, wrinkling the fabric.

"Me, you’re taking so-” He begins, but he's immediately cut off when she shouts.

"Wait- shut up.."

She says, turning away to sing along with the song currently playing from her phone.

"We do the things but we know it's wrong

All on my skin, you all in my palm

I sent you a envelope, came with a poem

You possess venom that came with a charm

You get the good out me when I perform

I know the bad in you, that's what I want

And you a baddie, you turnin' me on."

Seems like she forgets he's even in her room, singing along to the Future verse while she dots a good amount of blush on the apples of her cheek.

He sighs loudly, continuing to stare at her from behind. She doesn’t notice at all, now way too invested into getting ready while listening to her favorite songs.

Jude runs a frustrated hand over his face, taking in the way she sings along with the all-too-familiar-sounding song lyrics, hoping she can hurry up soon.

"Do I have to take you home too?" I ask, getting up from the comfy chair I'm in. Following Jude towards the dressing room. Relieved after a 2-0 win against Granada.

The sound of his cleats hitting the floor is loud, and I stop right at the entrance of the dressing room when he stops in his tracks.

"I can call a taxi, probably.."

I search his face for any annoyance or anger, but don't see anything like it. Instead, in a strangely familiar way- his eyes are wide and expressive. He looks more unsure and uncomfortable than I've ever seen him.

"It's fine- we're going to the same house anyway.." I whisper, dismissing his words with a wave.

"I have to go back to the training center though.. Can you stand tagging along with me?" I question, raising my brows in anticipation.

"Yeah, I'll just get freshened up really quick.." He says, stepping inside and closing the door since he was the last player to enter.

After saying bye to everyone, I sneakily walk up to my car. Almost jumping out of my skin when I see Jude already standing at the passenger door.

"What are you- get in.." I sigh, unlocking the door and stepping in.

The ride over to the training center is awkward and quiet, to say the least. I'm not in the mood to look through my playlist- and I'm sure he isn't either, by the way he's busy scrolling on his phone.

I park my car in my designated spot in the staff parking lot, looking over at him.

"Do you want to stay in the car?" I ask, unbuckling my seatbelt, and glancing at him.

"No, I'll come with you.." He replies, stepping out of the passenger’s seat and following me inside.

"I need to leave this bag here.." I inform, locking the car as the both of us walk inside the center.

He doesn't reply, not that it's necessary.

I walk up to the office, still hearing Jude walk right behind me.

"You're following me like a lost puppy.." I mutter, unlocking the door of the room I'm supposed to leave the equipment in.

"Okay, damn, I'll be downstairs.." He sneers, turning away and leaving immediately.

I shrug to myself when he leaves, finishing my business before going down as well.

I shove my keys into my bag, swinging it on my shoulder, then go looking around for Jude.

I enter the meeting room he and other players would hang out in, but don't see him. Stepping out, I look up from the door, walking in and out of the other meeting rooms.

"Where the fuck are you?" I mutter, reaching for my phone to call him, only to remember that I don't even have his phone number.

"Looking for something?"

I almost scream out loud when I hear a deep voice behind me. I turn, trying to not look like the person scared the crap out of me.

Oh, the creepy coworker. How fun.

"No, just dropped off some equipment upstairs.." I quickly say, rubbing my hand against my jeans.

I watch his eyes flicker to the keycard around my neck, which I forgot to take off.

"Coming from Bernabéu, y/n?"

Why did he know my name?

"Yeah, busy day.."

He stares at me, not saying anything else. I mentally hype myself up to say something, maybe to learn more about him.

"What's your name? We've seen each other around, but I don't know your name.” I say, shifting nervously as his blue eyes peer into mine.

"Andrés, fitness department. I'm new.." He says, sticking out a ghostly hand for me to shake.

"Right, nice to meet you. I would introduce myself too, but you seem to know already. How come?" His grip is tight, so I tighten it even more.

Give me a rough handshake, and I’ll break your hand out of pettiness.

"Everyone here knows you.." He replies, there is a harsh, but breathiness to his voice and it causes chills to run down my spine.

I clear my throat, realizing he still hasn't let go of my hand.

"Because of my father, yeah.." I fake a chuckle, trying to pull my hand back.

"No, not because of mister l/n.." My breath hitches audibly at his tone, and I try to snatch my hand back even more forcefully.

He doesn't even flinch, continuing to stare down at me.

"y/n, here you are.." I hear a familiar voice say, breaking out of this weird fucking trance.

My head snaps up, my eyes going wide, when I see Jude stepping out of the meeting room I had not checked out yet.

I use the opportunity to snatch my hand away from Andrés, rubbing my hand to fix my blood flow.

I watch Jude give him a look, death stare imminent when he walks up to us.

"Andrés? What are you doing here, it's late." He says, for some reason, slower than I have ever heard him speak.

"Work, busy.." He answers, trying to speak English with a broken Spanish accent.

Oh, he didn't speak English?

I watch a strange interaction between them, a jumble of Spanish and English. I try my best to understand, but it seems like both men throw in some gibberish too.

Finally, when they're done with their simlish, I'm grabbed by my hand, dragged away by Jude.

"What the hell is his problem?" I exclaim, still feeling my hand ache from the pressure.

"He's been fuckin' weird, don’t like him..” He mutters, walking ahead of me while still dragging me along.

I struggle to catch up with his long strides, his warm palm pressing into mine as he looks back at me.

"You okay?" He questions, stopping abruptly, causing me to smash my face against his arm.

"Ow- not anymore.." I mutter, rubbing my nose in agony with my free hand.

"Oh- shit, sorry.." He spits, his hand still on mine. I remove my hand from my face, raising my chin to look up at him.

"Am I bleeding?" A dramatic question, but you never knew with his rock-hard, muscular- arms..

I blink up at him, feeling his hand come up to my chin. He pinches my face, making me move my head.

"No, no blood- I think.." He breathes out, eyes roaming around my face to check for any blood.

I make sudden, close eye contact with him. His brown eyes catching mine, breath fanning my face.

We stare at each other for a moment. His hand still clearly on mine while he cups my face to look at me.

I realize the position we're in and step back. I eye our intertwined hands, looking back up at him as if to tell him to let go.

He clears his throat, dropping my hand like it's hot, and stepping back.

I decide to pretend I don't give a fuck. Ignoring the drumming of my heart, and grab my car key out of my bag.

"Get in.."

"Smash.." I say, maybe for the 10th time this hour.

"Oh my days, can you stop saying that?" Jude exclaims, a bewildered expression on his face as he looks over at me.

"Can't, it's Michael B. Jordan, and you want me to sit still?" I ask, earning a grunt from him.

"You're unbelievable.."

I ignore him, continuing to drool over the screen while I shove popcorn into my mouth.

"What are you going to do? You're off for four days.." I ask, sprawled out on the couch, in front of the TV.

"I have physical therapy every day, can't leave the city.." He complains, sitting on the couch across from me.

"Oh, how inconvenient- wait, who's driving you?.."

"Don't you worry, I've got someone driving me.." He sneers, folding his arms.

I roll my eyes, going back to watch the movie on the screen.

A hot man could make a boring movie so incredibly interesting.

"I'm not home tomorrow. Will you survive being home alone for the rest of your day?" I question, flickering my eyes back to him.

"Where are you going?"

"Taking my last exam, library helps me focus better.." I stuff another handful of popcorn into my mouth.

"Last one?"

"Yeah, I need to go revise a little." I sit up, pausing the movie, and getting up from the couch.

"Have it.." I shove the bowl of popcorn into his hands, walking up the stairs to my room. Ready for this exam to be over already.

“What the fuck was that.." I whisper to myself, hitting my head on my steering wheel repeatedly. I had long driven home from the library, not caring to step out of the car, parked in the driveway.

I had studied hours on end, but when I was presented with the questions, my brain practically short circuited, causing me to blank out so much information I needed to know.

I'm on the verge of tears at this point. Normally, after the last exam of the semester, I'd be jumping from joy, but the way this exam had gone- I wanted to cry buckets of tears.

I sniffle, wiping my nose with my sleeve. Not caring about the foundation stain left on it, and grab my bag from the backseat. I get out of my car, unlocking the front door of my house quickly.

I expect the house to be quiet, but instead I hear loud music. Old 80s songs, solely about love. Music only I knew auntie Carmen loved listening to while cooking.

I drop my bag at the front door, blinking repeatedly to hide the tears in my eyes. I shrug my jacket off, the December cold had come in full force. Though, to me, nothing was worse than winter in London anyway.

"Harina, say it, young man.." I hear auntie Carmen say in Spanish, a voice following behind her.

"Harina? Harina.." A broken accented voice says. I raise my brows, my tears and worries in the back of my mind now.

Curiosity takes over, and I immediately walk towards the kitchen, where the noises are coming from.

I'm greeted by the sight of auntie Carmen and Jude standing next to each other. Both wearing aprons as they are kneading dough on the kitchen island. Flour sprinkled on the marble as I hear Jude repeat random Spanish words, often getting corrected by my auntie.

She didn't even speak a lick of English. How did they even communicate?

I clear my throat, taking their attention away from the slabs of dough on the counter.

"Oh- you're home.." She smiles warmly at me, beckoning me over with a flour-covered hand.

"What's this?" I ask, stepping closer and speaking in Spanish.

"We're making pizza from scratch, sweetie." She says, giving me a kiss on my cheek.

"With him?" I point to Jude, watching him pound the dough with unnecessary aggression.

"What do you mean? Jude is so good at this, look at him go..” She smiles, saying his name with the utmost affection. He looks up confused, but I ignore him further.

What the hell did he do to make her like him already?

"Your boyfriend is a better cook than you already..”

I pull a horrified face, eyes going wide as my arms fall to my sides. I glance at Jude, noticing that he hadn’t even flinched at the words.

Thankfully, his Spanish classes weren’t so advanced yet…

I lean in close to her, whispering, well whisper-shouting.

“He’s not my boyfriend..” I say, pulling a face. I watch the corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles.

“I know, I’m just joking. Your dad called me about this entire situation already..”

“Why would you say that, then?”

“He’s handsome, isn’t he..” She says out loud, making me facepalm.

First, he steals my dad’s time, then my house, and now my auntie?

I look at him, watching him knead the dough, a smirk forming on his face.

I want to strangle him right here and now..

It’s only been a couple days, and this was too much for me already.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fanfic #real madrid fc #real madrid #footballer x reader #football imagines #football fanfic #football imagine #football #bellingham x reader

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

Text

Propaganda

Loretta Young (The Farmer’s Daughter, The Stranger, Love is News)— Her cheekbones!! Her lips!! Her big eyes and small nose and not quite classical features!! The planes of her face hypnotize me and her smile clears my mind of anything else. She’s an interesting beauty, not a standard one, almost in a Mads Mikkelsen type way (I repeat: cheekbones). Also I’m begging people to watch The Farmer’s Daughter, a charming rom com where my babygirl Joseph Cotten falls through the ice while skating because he got distracted by how pretty she was, and where Loretta puts on a 40s-bad Swedish accent and runs for Congress! Girlboss!

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies.... most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Loretta Young:

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

"ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face"

"First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you."

Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

"The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender"

youtube

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

youtube

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"Did a bunch of humanitarian work during ww2, pretty sure a shot of her from Shanghai express was the inspiration for one of queens album covers and also her in the suit in Morocco (1930) CHANGED LIVES. I’m sure she’s already been submitted but I wanted an opportunity to submit one of my favourite pictures of her for the poll"

"would you not let her walk on you?"

#marlene dietrich #loretta young #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 2 #Youtube

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reveluving · 4 months

Text

mother knows best ; phillip graves x reader x jeff sadecki

summary: mama knows love when she sees one. or three.

warnings: mostly Phil & Jeff’s mom’s POV, mentions of angst (teen!Jeff cheating but not on you, family fights, parents passing away), very tiny allusions to s~mut (minors DNI!), loads of fluff towards the end, Mama Denise is yours and her boys’ number one fan 🩷

a/n: thought I’d use this chance to write this after this ask! this is based on this lil' post! I know Jeff’s mom is named Linda but this is about him and Phil, a.k.a. my mind, so say hello to Mama Denise! pls don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» interested in more of the series? find it here & here!

Denise Baker has always been a sweet lady. The epitome of a Southern’s hospitality. Married twice, first to a man named Danny Sadecki, then the second being Tom Graves after Danny passed away. They were good people. The best, feeling grateful each day for giving her the best gifts a hopeful mother could ever ask for.

Two amazing boys.

Keeping their last names rather than changing them to her maiden name was instinctive. At a one-year-plus age gap, Phil took after his mother’s Southern twang whereas Jeff followed his stepfather’s general American accent. They grew to be one happy family, and the brothers, despite their differences in interests and personality, would fight tooth and nail for one another.

But since Tom’s passing, the boys have been less lively, and understandably so. No matter how well they hid their sadness behind innocent smiles each time their mother was in the room, she could see right through them. She didn’t know what she did to earn such sweet boys, always attentive to their Mama at a young age, but she had always hoped to see the fire in them return someday.

That was until they met you.

You and Phil were the same age, just beginning middle school with his brother somewhere a little further from the Bakers’ than the town’s high school.

The brothers had been waiting for their mother to pick them up when you slid next to Phil in the waiting chair. It was raining cats and dogs in Wiskayok, so you had to squeeze yourself into the bus stop to avoid getting drenched.

“Sorry,” You squeaked with a guilty smile when your shoulders touched.

Phil was beyond the age of believing in cooties, plus, he and Jeff were a mama’s boy, and she didn’t raise a woman (girl?)-hater.

“S’okay.” His smile was half-hearted, a little miffed that he couldn’t get to the stand in time when it began raining, and at this point, Jeff had noticed your sudden presence. They’ve seen you before, especially Phil. You always sat in front of him in class, mostly seen with full of life and blinding smile with a missing tooth.

“Your mom’s coming late, too?” Phil knew he didn’t have to make the conversation any longer than he’d like, but he had no reason to do that with you. You were so… nice, and yet, so respectful. Always giving him a wave instead of barging into his personal space bubble like a lot of his classmates did.

Plus, his mother was already thirty minutes late, what was there to lose?

“Yeah. My brother and I have been waitin’ for a lil’ while,” He replied with a shrug, pausing for a second before asking, “You?”

“Yeah, same,” You responded, though more lighthearted than he was, kicking your feet as you looked at the road, “It’s okay, though. Mom’s always busy. They’re probably tired. So long I’m not alone here, I’m not scared to wait for my mom.”

There you go, with your smile again. Phil couldn’t help but smile back, it was tiny but you could see the slight quirk of his lips. Jeff, too, found your positivity infectious and had been listening.

He had joined in on the conversation moments after. It was fairly light, with Jeff doing most of the talking, but that didn’t mean Phil wasn’t listening and chiming in once in a while. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later when Denise came, rushing over to her boys with an umbrella and endless apologies.

You were ready to say goodbye to the two and resume waiting on your own when Denise approached you with a motherly look.

“Hi, darlin,” She crouched in front of you, with Jeff and Phil at a perfect height as they stood under her umbrella, “I’m Denise, Jeffrey and Phillip’s mama. What’s your name?”

You were a lot shyer with her, considering she was an adult, but you trusted her enough with your name since you kinda knew his youngest.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Even with the heavy rain, her soft-spoken voice was hard to miss, “D’you know when y’mama will come pick you up?”

You shook your head, telling her that with your mother working at a busy cafe, it could vary. And like you told the boys, you were alright with waiting rather than daring to walk home since the bus stop was always full. Still, Denise, ever the kind-hearted woman, offered to drive you to your mother’s workplace.

Denise understood that you were wary and good on you for being careful, but to her surprise, Jeff and Phil were nice enough to reassure you. And whether you agreed because of their mother’s gentleness, Jeff’s natural talent to make you feel comfortable with all three of them or even the hint of promise in Phil’s eyes that everything was going to be fine, Denise was glad you did.

Your mother was extremely thankful, even offered to pay for their lunch for their next visit, but Denise refused and with the two becoming fast friends just as you were with Jeff and Phil, the rest was history.

Though, high school was… eventful, to say the least. While the two of you remained close, almost joined at the hip, you and Phil sometimes preferred backing off as Jeff’s popularity grew. Not that Jeff’s behaviour changed with the two of you, he was still the dorky, good-willed boy you knew.

Although you and Phil may have fought a little with Jeff when he told you about his cheating on Jackie with Shauna. He broke up with Jackie soon after, but his decision to stay with Shauna may or may not have affected your friendship. You and his brother weren’t too keen on the idea of their own friend/brother being a cheater after all.

Jeff especially hated it when it rocked what the two of you had. He was dumb enough to think ending up with Shauna or Jackie would make him forget his interest in you, and surprise surprise, it didn’t. The three of you stayed close friends, though he promised never to bring up about Shauna around you or Phil at all.

And then, high school ended.

Phil’s decision to leave town for the Marines was not only the biggest shock to the neighbourhood but especially to his own family. Not that he didn’t have the means to be one, if anything, his mother and brother knew he’d be one of, if not, the best ones out there. He just never expressed his interest in military work at all.

Throughout their years as a family, Mama had never seen the two fight so badly until Jeff discovered that Phil had been considering leaving Wiskayok, leaving their mother after they both finished community college. Though their fall-out didn’t last long, no more than two weeks, especially when their mother expressed her worries and sadness over their rocky relationship.

Plus, Jeff didn’t want what strong bond he had with his brother to end just like that. He cared for his brother too much, and in their moment of vulnerability, he apologized for not doing more in their high school years. When some of his peers saw his little brother as his shadow rather than a person. Phil insisted that he barely cared about them, even flat out said they weren’t necessarily his friends unless it had to do anything with football.

They hugged it out, and Mama was over the moon. Suddenly, the thought of Phil leaving for the military wasn’t as difficult, knowing that her boys were still going to keep in touch, and on a high note, no less.

He spent his last month in Wiskayok with you and your mother with the most mundane of things.

But oh, how Mama’s emotions dipped when you, too, left shortly after your mother passed away.

She couldn’t put it past you for doing so. How could she, when you’ve been nothing but an angel? A one in a million and she’d be damned if she convinced you to stay like a bird in a cage. As much as she and Jeff would love to, insisting that there was something for you in town, but just like with Phil, they didn’t. It was far too selfish of them, and you had so much potential.

And as thankful as Mama was to have Jeff by her side at all times, there was someone else.

Shauna.

Shauna never sat right with her, no matter how far she was ‘willing’ to go to get to know her future mother-in-law better. Though the smile she brought out of Jeff was nowhere near as big or as wholesome as he was with you, there was a hint of guilt for feeling the way she did. Hoping you’d end up with one of her sons.

But she wasn’t the only one thinking as such, but Jeff felt that he had lost his chance when you left.

So, he carried himself again to be a better person, especially when he truly believed Shauna was the one, much to his mother’s disbelief. Hell, she’d seen bigger smiles from him when he was with that Jackie girl before they broke up.

But her boy was insistent.

Maybe, for once, her mother’s intuitions were wrong.

And as the days went by, the possibility of Jeff putting a ring on Shauna grew higher, Mama did her best to accept her as her own. The two were civil at best, and no doubt that was enough for the two.

But the years grew dull for the Sadeckis, and the second Jeff came knocking on his mother’s door at two in the morning, his wife not in sight, she knew she should’ve done more to stop what they had.

It began with petty arguments, with Jeff being the one apologizing to Shauna, despite knowing she was in the wrong or if she began the fight in the first place. Then it became quarrels, something about her nonexistent book club when in reality, she had been meeting up with a man named Adam.

Each time Mama received a call from her eldest, telling her that he and his wife ‘needed space’, she’d cook up a nice meal and make sure his old room was ready with the amenities he needed.

If it weren’t for Jeff’s attempts to calm his mother down, telling her it wasn’t worth the trouble, she would’ve marched down to Shauna’s front door and knocked some sense into her with a rolling pin. How dare she point her finger at Jeff, attempting to invalidate her own faults by saying it was him who cheated first during their years of marriage, thus, giving her the green light to do the same.

Although yes, Jeff has done it once, when he cheated on Jackie, he regretted it. Immensely, especially seeing the disappointment in his mother’s face. Oh, how he apologized to her like he had committed the biggest sin of all, and frankly, he did. And though his mother was dismayed by his dishonesty, she knew when any of her boys truly regretted something.

Boy, never has he wished for things to turn out differently and still, he wanted to work things out, when he tried to show his mother what he saw in Shauna.

And she did, but she didn’t see what she or Jeff hoped she’d saw. The final straw was when his wife—his ex-wife disrespected his mother in her own house. He had given her many chances, forgiving her more times than he could count, but he could not stand for her raising her voice at his beloved mother.

Denise had every right to feel grateful when the divorce happened, but that didn't mean she openly celebrated it in front of her son. But Phil was different, even went as far as having a congratulatory gift sent to their doorstep since he was still on duty. Despite knowing his brother was rolling in dough with his line of work, Jeff couldn’t help but gawk at the gifts, much to his mother’s amusement. A set of cashmere sweaters that probably cost anywhere from half to one grand, complete with a few bottles of fragrances and even one of the finest reds to commemorate the moment. Plus, a personalized rose-gold bracelet for Mama because why wouldn’t he want to spoil her at any given chance?

And though he and his mother did enjoy a few sips after moving back into the Bakers’ house, he couldn’t help but wonder how you were doing.

But he didn’t have to wait for long.

The day you and Phil returned to Wiskayok, standing in front of Mama’s door, she nearly dropped to her knees. Not only has she missed her youngest boy, despite his efforts in calling and texting and visiting in secret each time his deployment ended, but she most certainly missed you, too. It was your first time visiting since the very day you left, after all. Phil didn’t take it to heart when his mother scolded him for not telling her that the two of you were colleagues and maybe were together.

In reality, though, she had a feeling that you were still around. Closer than what you made them believe.

There were days when Phil had a chance to call his mother, and she’d suddenly bring you up. Wondering aloud if you were alright, how life was treating you in God knows where, and somehow, Phil’s confidence in his responses, telling her that he was certain you were doing well, she believed him. Word for word. As if she knew he was with you throughout your journey to find yourself, just like he did.

And she’d be right when the universe reunited you and Phil on the battlefield. When Shadow Company joined forces with 141 and Los Vaqueros, not expecting to find the girl of his dreams amongst the chaos and in those years, you laughed, you smiled, you wept and you released yourself for him and him alone. Finally acknowledging what the two of you were afraid to address as teenagers all those years ago.

Phil couldn’t imagine bringing his walls down for someone other than you and though like with everyone else, he still kept up the proud and almost infuriating act, no one else had the privilege to see the more caring, affectionate side of him except for you.

But Mama wasn't the only one surprised by the revelation.

On the first night of your arrival, Jeff didn't talk much, instead, hanging on to your every word. From the very moment you reached the city alone for the first time, till the very day you carried yourself into your team and reunited with Phil. How you even remembered the gifts you were meaning to give him and their mother in the middle of the conversation. And as the night fell, you insisted on booking a hotel not far from the neighbourhood.

Oh, how Mama has missed the old days when she'd tell you to stay over, making sure to call your mother about your whereabouts. While she wouldn’t dream of replacing your mother, it was understandable how her attentiveness for you has skyrocketed, now that she knew you and his son were coming over much more often.

Still, she had conditions, eyeing Phil with a knowing look before telling him that you’d be staying in the guestroom. Still spick and span for hopeful days like these. Phil's cheeky smile was worth a thousand words, knowing his mother had caught on to what type of little games the two of you played. Her eye-roll was good-natured, even letting out a hearty laugh when she caught the embarrassed look on your face.

Throughout your stay, she saw how your relationship with Phil blossomed, and how the more-than-friendly feelings between you and Jeff were beginning to rekindle. How her sons’ true emotions—their true colours were showing in that same very house as it always did, as if nothing had changed. Mama knew there was something more to the loving looks they’d give you whenever you looked away.

And when she saw the three of you hanging out and sitting close in the backyard patio, watching the stars and laughing over a stupid stunt one of them had done as kids, she knew that you and her boys were going to be A-ok.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

a/n: we love mama denise. ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

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f1bordeaux · 6 days

Text

The String That Binds Us. (Chapter 1) | ln4, cl16

You fell in love with this sport all because of him. It would be selfish not to thank that boy for his help in getting you here today, even if you both ended on rocky terms. However, after finding yourself in the same paddock as your childhood bestfriend, your mentor, your first true love, and the boy who left you for the bigger picture, you realize that he wants nothing to do with you. So, as fate has it, perhaps you'll end up in the arms of someone else. Or maybe, just maybe, that string that has been tied to the two of you since birth will pull you back into eachothers lives. Warnings : none Pairings : Lando Norris x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader Word Count : 1923 Poetry style | Story style A/n: here, my lovelies, is chapter one. Not proofread srry lolsies. Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

one; y/n.

There was something about it, something in the early morning rays reflecting off the cherry-red paint that just wiped away all exhaustion previously held in your bones. You were wide awake as you stared at the cars being rolled off the truck and into the garage. It was only five am but the sun had already crept over the horizon well enough to illuminate the sight in front of you. Golds and reds, blacks and yellows all mixed into a work of art nobody else could recreate. This is what you were here for. This is what you were living for.

“Gorgeous, innit’?”

You turned to your left, face to face with two others donning the same uniform as you. The woman who had spoken seemed a bit older than you, but now way had she yet reached her thirties. A man was accompanying her, although his eyes rested not on you, but on the tyres now being rolled out of the truck. He seemed close to her age, his deep-tanned skin a high contrast to hers.

You smiled at her before looking down at your lanyard. It was still so hard to process being here, on a Thursday morning in Bahrain, waiting for the weekend that was about to ensue. You were one of them now. You were an insider, a person that got to see everything on a deeper level. People dreamed of getting here, people worked their whole lives in hopes of getting here and yet here you were, 23 years old and face-to-face with Carlos Sainz’s car. It looked so much better in-person.

“It really is.” You sighed, looking back up. The truck was empty now, they were beginning to close the back door. “I still can't believe I’m here.”

The blonde lady leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of your badge. “Y/n y/ln? You're new, huh?”

You turned to meet her eyes, a large smile on your face. “Yes, I just graduated University.”

“What an amazing first job to have then.” She smiled back. The man beside her now looked at you as he adjusted the ballcap on his head. “I'm Bridgette, but everyone in the garage just calls me Bridge.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” You extended out a hand which she gratefully accepted.

“This is Lorenzo.” Bridgette nodded to the man who offered a toothless smile and his hand. “Enough standing around, we’ve got work to do. Walk with us.”

So you did. The garage wasn’t too far away, just around the corner, but Bridgette loved to talk; that you quickly found out. “Where are you from?” Was her first question.

“Bristol.”

“I hear it’s nice. They’ve got that beautiful river running through it, no?” She asked, looking straight ahead. You just nodded, unsure if she saw your response, but when she kept going you assumed she had. “I’m from Perth. Nothin’ quite like Australia, I must say.” “Isn’t Lando from Bristol?” Lorenzo added. His accent was thick as he spoke.

You nodded again, this time opting to expand on the question. “He is, yeah. We actually grew up together.”

Bridgette turned her head to look at you. “No way! Why didn’t your mate get you a job over at Mclaren?”

A blush coated your cheeks. You didn’t know where it came from, maybe embarrassment, maybe fear, hell, maybe even sadness. Lando wouldn’t have put in a good word for you, not today. Perhaps seven years ago when the two of you were teenagers and on a completely different page, but not now.

“We don't talk like we used to. He was gone a lot but he moved away for good when he was seventeen. He never really looked back, either.” You sighed. An odd sense of pity hung over the three of you. In an attempt to lighten the mood you clapped your hands together and smiled at the two engineers next to you. “But he got me into cars and engineering! So, I owe him a thanks for that.”

Bridgette nodded and pressed her lips into a thin line. “There ya’ go.”

The next few moments were rushed. The three of you entered the garage where people worked on putting everything into place. You were introduced to management and owners, mechanics and bosses. Tyres were being placed on racks, tarps were being placed over backup cars, tool boxes were being passed around. It was thrilling, even if you were just standing on the sidelines watching as it all happened. Soon, however, someone called your name. You were sure it was Bridgette or Lorenzo, but it was someone else. Alessandro, Charles' chief mechanic, was heading straight for you, clipboard in hand.

“Have you been assigned a team yet?”

“No, sir.”

He smiled. “Call me Alessandro. No need for formalities. But anyways,” He looked down at the clipboard then back up at you. “Our front jack guy broke his wrist and I need someone to replace him. Care to run some drills?”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. “I would be honored.”

“Awesome.” He nodded over his shoulder. “Let's go get you a suit and helmet, then.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t get the spot.” Bridgette sipped her coffee. “You absolutely crushed it.”

You blushed, rolling your finger around the rim of your cup. The Ferrari motorhome was gorgeous with its meeting rooms and rooftop balcony, with its relaxation spots and cafe. It really put into perspective where you were and who you were working for.

“Thank you,” You said quietly.

The day had gone by rather quickly. The sun was already setting over the desert and exhaustion clung to your body just as tightly as the uniform you wore. You’d spent hours running drills, practicing the most simple yet vital job-jacking the car up. You did it over and over again, improving with every run. After that you were tasked with doing inventory. Sure, it was a small task, one that didn’t require you to get hands on with the car, but it was still important. You wandered the garage counting tyres, drills, wrenches, going through tool bags and drawers. It helped you get situated in the space, to learn the layout and whereabouts of everything. Once you had finished that, you were offered to help wash Charles’ back up car. You gladly obliged, happy to be finally touching the car at least. You washed the tyres, the halo, the rear wing and a bit of the body before standing back to revel in the beauty of the car. It seemed to shine, even in the dim garage lighting. You felt so fulfilled, so privileged, so at home.

“Alessandro likes to give everyone a shot, he doesn’t discriminate.” Bridgette continued. “Today might have been your lucky break.”

“I’d be happy even being a back-up jack, honestly. Just wearing the fire suit and helmet makes me feel all,” you paused looking for the right word to describe it. “Giddy.”

“Well,” Lorenzo began, setting his phone face down on the table. “He needs to pick tonight so we can have that person participate in tomorrow's practice. You should know if you got it first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Guess I’ll be tossing and turning all night, then.” You joked.

A small laugh cluttered the table. It was getting late, the track becoming more and more empty with each passing moment. The motorhome was silent, save for the three of you lingering around. “We should go grab the last shuttle to the hotel,” Bridgette stood, taking one last swig from her cup before tossing it into a bin. “Are the two of you coming?”

Lorenzo stood up, as did you. “I left my bag in the lockers. I can wait for the next one if you both would like to go.”

“It’s ok,” he said. “We can wait for you at the front gate.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be quick.”

You jogged through the paddock, grateful that the heat had subsided. Lights poured out of each garage, illuminating pit lane in a way the sun hadn't. The sun, harsh and bright, brought a form of intimidation onto the pavement. The lights however, soft and orange, seemed to bring peace. It was a gentle reminder that at the end of the day, everything would be alright.

You dodged into the Ferrari garage, running to the back lockers to retrieve your backpack. Although your head was almost completely submerged in the metal box, you could hear faint-chatter? You leaned back, wondering if Bridgette and Lorenzo had come to find you. No, it didn’t sound like them. The voice sounded much more familiar. It was like listening to one of your favorite songs after a long while.

Lando paused at the entrance of the garage. His phone was pressed into his ear. He stared at you, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed. Did he know it was you? Could he see you? Did he even remember what you looked like?

You swung your bag over your shoulders and closed the locker. As you approached, Lando lifted his brows, erasing the confused look on his face. He surely could see you now.

“Hey, I gotta call you back.” He sighed. “Yeah, everything is good. See you tomorrow.”

A few feet separated you and him. You debated on starting conversation, on asking how he’s been. But you decide just to nod and walk past him. That is your plan until he stops you.

“Y/n?”

You pressed your lips together in a flat smile. “Hey, Lando.”

He looked you up and down. You were uncertain if he found your Ferrari uniform insulting or fitting. What if you were wearing papaya? What if you were sporting orange instead of red? Would he be looking at you in the same way?

“So you really did make it, huh?” Lando crossed his arms over his chest, smirking as you avoided eye contact.

“I suppose so.”

“Have they assigned you a driver?”

You looked up for the first time since your conversation began. A bit of pride swelled in your chest as you said, matter-of-factly, “Yeah, Charles Leclerc.”

He blinked hard, shocked that you landed not only a job with the most infamous F1 team, but on their star drivers car. Maybe you were better than you let on. Maybe it was more luck. But deep down Lando knew how good you were. He was able to experience it first hand as a kid.

“Wow. Most people remain without a designated driver for their first year. They kinda’ just float around doing all the dirty work. At least, that's how it is at Mclaren.”

“Right.” You gripped your backpack straps like a kid. “Good thing I'm not over there, then.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you fell quiet, only the sound of nearby passing cars and people walking by filled the air. To any bypasser this surely looked sketchy. Lando Norris, Mclarens golden boy, and a new engineer for an opposing team, just staring at one another. How odd.

You broke the silence first saying, “Well I’ve gotta’ go. I have some friends waiting for me to catch the shuttle.”

Lando just nodded, staring at the ground as you walked by. As you passed Carlos’ garage, he called out, “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

You could barely hear it with the way he spoke so quietly. But you stopped, turning your head and offering a real, genuine smile. “Yeah,” You breathed out.

He smiled back. “Good luck.”

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macsimagines · 8 months

Note

Hello again dearest! I hope you’ve been doing well and that life has been treating you kindly ♡

With my second and third Uni midterms looming over me, I would like to request Yan! Izana, Ran, & Shin with a foreign darling~ One who is an international university student in Japan on a student visa

And if it’s not too long, I’d like a follow up of their darling taking them to visit their home country for the holidays since the Yan’s can’t bear to be apart from their darling especially when they would be overseas alone without them ♡♡

I've actually had foreign japanese students at my old school and uni though we weren't' close wish i couldve interacted more and maybe learned something from them hah

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, BABY TRAPPING, SCUM BAG BEHAVIOR

Yandere! Izana Kurokawa

He was attracted to you right away, not even romantically or physically, just having been of mixed decent and then seeing someone who might relate to his own experiences interested him.

Became very romantically interested after a few interactions however, you had such a fresh perspective as a foreigner and some of the things he's had to live through seemed to resonate with you.

"Your step-mom was straightup evil. No kid should have to go through that, and I hope your kingdom is as beautiful as you make it out to be."

Hooked for life right away. And also distraught at the thought of you leaving, would constantly try to convince you to get a citizenship and just live here forever with him.

"Why even go back if I'm here?" Is one thousand percent serious, you've become such a huge part of his entire being so it must be the same for you right?

When you convince him to come with you on holiday home to meet your family though, something changes. You don't have to stay in Japan, you just have to stay with him.

As long as you're together than everything will work out. It wasn't like you could so much as leave his place without him being glued to your hip, good luck getting out of the country without him tagging along.

Yandere! Ran Haitani

He is sooo enamored by you. Fetishizing people because of their race is so goddamn gross but the fact that you're foreign definitely is what attracts him to you to begin with.

Ran is so toxic with it to. Calls you exotic like its some kind of compliment, tells you you're accent is soooo cute when you're doing your best to sound natural, makes fun of you for every mispronunciation.

But you don't know anyone in Japan and he's 6'1 so you put up with it. He's just so tall and pretty and he knows all the best spots in roppongi so of course you choose to suck it up.

Afterall, its not like it's forever. He's just your heavy and hot fling that you can go home and brag to your friends about, right? Wrong. He's sprung bitch and you're stuck with him.

"Hey, when are we going to your neck of the woods for this holiday?" "...We?" "Ya, I gotta pack and get my ticket soon, right?"

Hope you're ready to disappoint your folks now that you're bringing home this freak show. Don't forget his dream is to become a foreign celebrity so he wants to experience it all when he visits with you.

"Man, this trip is so much fun. I can't wait for next year."

Yandere!Shinichiro Sano

Worships you. He can't spit game for shit, but thankfully you don't understand him too well to begin with. It's a match made in heaven!

He doesn't make fun of you when you get your words wrong or fumble a sentence, but he does think its so cute. Shinichiro doesn't try to infantilize you but it does come off like that.

God the fact that you want him and you stick with him even though he's such a dork makes him love you so much, he doesn't even think he deserves you.

Hates it when you go home the first time. He can't even talk to you on the phone because of service issues, and trust me this dude was ready to take out loans for collect call just to hear your voice.

Bombards you with all kinds of questions like "Who did you see? Who were you with? Are you going back!?"

So my big headcanon is that he's a baby trapper. So when you talk about going next season he's already trying to figure out how knock you up.

Ends up fucking you with busted condoms (he poked holes) a few weeks before your trip because he needed to give you a VERY good reason to come back.

Just tells you "It's cause I'm going to miss you so much baby, I gotta get as much of you as I can. :)"

You end up surprising him with a ticket for him to come with you. He honestly could cry tears of joy, but he'll save it for when you discover his own little surprise.

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere izana kurokawa #yandere shinichiro sano #yandere ran haitani

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wavypotatochips · 2 months

Text

Elevator Mishap || Central Cee

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : CentralCee x Female reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : You find yourself trapped in an elevator with a mysterious stranger who turns out to be the famous rapper Central Cee in disguise. [FLUFF/ LIGHT TENSION]

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: HIIIII GUYS omg so much stuff has happened personally in my life but I am back and better!! Central Cee is so fine and I just always wanted to write something with him lol. Its been a while since I have wrote something, so bare with me c': I have no requests, so feel free to send some in!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ♥

"I find it hard to believe I'm actually here," you murmur under your breath, a mix of disbelief and disinterest coloring your tone as you wait for the elevator to reach your floor. While most girls would gush with excitement at the prospect of attending a Central Cee concert in the UK alongside their best friends, Stacey and Rosalina, you find yourself unable to share in their fervor. The trio, inseparable since middle school, practically dragged you along when they scored free tickets to the concert, complete with all expenses paid. Despite their infectious enthusiasm for Central Cee, you couldn't summon the same level of excitement, feeling rather indifferent towards his music. Meanwhile, your best friends are back in the hotel room, immersed in making TikToks while belting out Central Cee's tunes. You made an excuse about needing to run down to the convenience store on the ground floor to grab a snack, eager to escape the impending festivities. As the elevator doors finally slide open, you step inside, your mind already elsewhere, contemplating the potentially underwhelming night ahead, especially given your lack of interest in the artist.

Absentmindedly humming to yourself, you press the button for the ground floor before casually leaning against the elevator wall. A brief moment of panic strikes as you pat your pockets, realizing your phone must have been left behind in the hotel room. Before you can fully process this inconvenience, the elevator lurches upward, and a figure clad entirely in black, sporting a ski mask, shades, and a hat, enters. You brush off the peculiar attire, attributing it to the chilly weather outside, but a faint sense of unease begins to gnaw at you as the elevator door closes.

The person does not press any buttons, signaling they were also going to the bottom floor like you were. You tried not to stare at the person beside you, but the clothes they were wearing screamed wealth. You look at their shoes as the elevator begins to go down. Suddenly, the elevator comes to a stop with a shake. You widen your eyes as anxiety kicks in, confused on what is going on. You look over at the stranger, not being able to see their expression before walking over and pressing the first-floor button again. This time, the elevator doesn't seem to budge nor is it telling you what floor you two are currently on.

“There's no way,” noticing the elevator may be stuck, your heart sinks down. The stranger walks closer to you, giving them a try themselves to press the buttons. You step back to give them room. Noticing the buttons will not budge for them either, you sigh and press the red button that signals a representative. A few minutes pass before someone speaks, “Hello? Is everything alright?,” the statically voice states.

“Yeah, ummm I think the elevator is stuck. We also can’t see what floor we are on,” you respond.

“Okay, please remain calm we are sen-,” the voice cuts off.

“Hello?,” you question, “HELLLOOOOOO?,” spamming the button again.

“Lady we can't hear YOUUU!,” You state pressing the button.

“You should stop before you break it.” The voice of the person speaks with a deep British accent, you now know they are a male. You turn to look at him, continuing to press the button a few more times before stopping. You sigh, sitting down on the floor.

“Just great,” you mumble while lowering your head in defeat. You are not someone with claustrophobia, plus the elevator was a decent size so it's not as if you were scared you were trapped. Only annoyed. While your head is low, you hear clothes shuffling causing you to look back up. The man begins to take off his coat and hat, probably also realizing we are not going to be getting out anytime soon. You shift your legs so you are now sitting criss-cross on the floor, your back against the wall as you look up at the elevator's ceiling.

“Don't worry, I bet they will come soon,” the man speaks once again with a reassuring voice. You keep your head up, “I know, it just sucks. This is my first time in the UK and I'm spending my first night trapped in an elevator with a stranger, no offense.” You hear a chuckle, ”None taken. What are you in the UK for if you don't mind me asking?” You can tell he just wanted small talk, and you didn't mind. I mean after all, you are stuck here for who knows how long.

“My Best friends and I are here for the Central Cee concert,” you respond, continuing to study the French painting that is plastered on the ceiling of the elevator.

“Are you excited to go?,” he questions, resulting in you shrugging,” I don't care too much about him. Nothing against him, but you know, not really my taste.”

Silence settles between you for a moment, punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the intercom and the faint hum of the elevator's mechanisms.

"So, what brings you to the concert if you're not a fan?" he asks, curiosity evident in his voice.

You offer a half-smile, considering your response. "Honestly, I'm just here for my friends. Stacey and Rosalina are huge fans, and they practically begged me to come along. Figured it would be a fun night out, even if the music isn't really my thing."

He nods in understanding, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Ah, the sacrifices we make for friendship," he muses, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. “Maybe after the concert you will be my fan.”

His unexpected comment catches you off guard, and you find yourself momentarily taken aback. With a furrowed brow, you glance down, your eyes widening and eyebrows raising in confusion. And there he stands, Central Cee himself, his presence suddenly filling the confined space of the elevator. His pearly white teeth glint in the dim light, a charming smile gracing his lips.

If your best friends were in your position, they probably would have passed out by now. But you? You simply let out a small laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Mmmmm I don't think so. Your music just isn't my type,” you reply, your tone casual yet resolute. You glance back up at the ceiling, your interest clearly elsewhere.

Central Cee seems momentarily taken aback by your nonchalant response. He had perhaps expected screams of excitement or frenzied fangirling – or perhaps even both. But your composed demeanor only serves to intrigue him further. He closes his lips, the smile still lingering on his face, his gaze lingering on you with newfound curiosity.

"Really now?" he questions, a playful glint in his eyes. "What exactly is your type, hmm?"

“Not you, so it doesn't matter,” you respond with a casual flick of your gaze, focusing on your nail as if it holds the answers to the universe. Impatience begins to creep into your movements, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the control panel, where you futilely press the buttons at random.

"Well, I would like to know," he persists, closing the distance between you with a deliberate step.

"It doesn't matter," you retort, your tone edged with determination.

"Yes, it does," he insists.

"No, it doesn't," you counter.

"Yes, it does."

"No, it do—" You cut yourself off mid-sentence, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you. "Wait, why am I even going back and forth with you?" The question is more to yourself, but Central Cee decides to respond.

"Because you do like me."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I—" You catch yourself falling into the same cycle, causing him to chuckle.

"You know, you're cute when you get mad," he remarks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His words elicit a soft blush from you, prompting you to turn away and face the wall. "Leave me alone," you mumble.

"Awww, I'm sorry, love. Let me make it up to you," he responds cheekily.

"Make it up to me by getting this damn elevator to work," you grumble under your breath.

"If you can admit that I am your favorite artist, then I will make that happen," he confesses, catching you off guard.

You raise an eyebrow, turning to face him. "How?"

He tilts his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Say it, and I will make it happen."

You exhale heavily, skepticism evident in your expression. "Why does it matter to you so much?" you question.

He shrugs, smiling. "Simply because."

You glare at him, his grin only widening in response. You decide to humor him, considering his celebrity status and the possibility of connections. "Fine. You are my favorite artist."

He raises his eyebrows, amused by your half-hearted admission. "I don't think that was sincere enough for me."

You let out another small breath. Stepping closer to him, you meet his gaze head-on. "Oakley, you are my favorite artist. I love your music so much; you are so talented."

His demeanor softens, his eyes meeting yours with sincerity. Something about saying his real name seems to have an effect on him. Whether it's your beauty or simply the use of his name, it stirs something within him, making him feel... nice.

You find yourself studying his features, admiring the way his light tan skin complements the arch of his eyebrows and the depth of his chocolate eyes. His small smile draws your attention, and you instinctively take a step back, coughing lightly to dispel the tension.

"Uhm... okay, I said it. Now, do your magic."

"You're right," he responds, retrieving his phone from his pocket.

"YOU HAD A PHONE THIS ENTIRE TIME??" you exclaim, incredulous.

"Yes," he simply responds, unlocking his phone.

You sigh. "Why didn't you say something?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Who wouldn't want to be trapped in an elevator with a beautiful girl like you?"

You open your mouth to reply, but the fluttering sensation in your stomach leaves you speechless. Despite your indifference towards his music, you can't deny his charm.

For a few moments, you find yourself lost in thought, your gaze dropping to your shoes. His voice interrupts your reverie, causing you to lift your head.

"Damn. I don't have any service," he says, raising his arm in a futile attempt to get a signal.

You watch as Central Cee furrows his brow in frustration, tapping futilely at his phone screen in a desperate attempt to find a signal. Despite the annoyance of being stuck in an elevator, you can't help but feel a strange sense of camaraderie with him, a shared bond forged in the confines of this metal box.

As the seconds tick by, the silence between you grows heavier, the tension palpable in the air. You glance at Central Cee, taking in the way the dim light of the elevator accentuates the contours of his face, casting shadows that dance across his features. Despite your best efforts to ignore it, you can't deny the flutter of excitement that flits through your stomach at the sight of him.

"Anything yet?" you ask, breaking the silence with a voice that comes out softer than intended.

Central Cee shakes his head, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Nothing. It's like this elevator is in its own little world, cut off from the rest of the universe."

Central Cee chuckles softly, the sound echoing in the confined space. "and here I thought being a famous rapper would exempt me from getting stuck in elevators," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You smile, appreciating his attempt to inject a bit of humor into the situation. "Guess even celebrities aren't immune to elevator mishaps," you reply, your lips quivering in a half-smile.

He returns the smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "At least I'm stuck in here with someone interesting," he says, his tone laced with sincerity.

A blush rises to your cheeks at his compliment, and you quickly avert your gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Thanks," you mumble, "I guess you aren't so bad yourself.."

Central Cee's smile widens at your response, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment," he says, his tone teasing yet genuine.

You chuckle softly, feeling a sense of ease settle over you as the tension between you dissipates. "Consider it one," you reply, meeting his gaze with a shy smile.

As the moments pass, you find yourself drawn into conversation with Central Cee, the topics ranging from trivial matters to deeper discussions about life, dreams, and everything in between. Despite the unusual circumstances that brought you together, you can't help but feel a sense of connection with him, a feeling of understanding that goes beyond mere words.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity but is likely only a few hours, the elevator lurches back to life with a groan of protest, the sudden movement catching you off guard. Central Cee reaches out a hand to steady you, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin.

"We're moving again," he says, a note of relief in his voice.

You nod, a sense of anticipation building within you as the elevator ascends towards the surface. “Finally,” you say, though a pang of reluctance tugs at your heart. Deep down, you wish the elevator would stay broken, prolonging the fleeting moments you've shared with him. In the brief interlude of confinement, you've come to appreciate not just Central Cee, but the person behind the persona, Oakley. As the elevator hums back to life, you resign yourself to the inevitable parting that awaits you both, returning to the separate paths your lives had veered from.

Central Cee begins to adjust his attire, meticulously covering his features with the ski mask and glasses, returning to his "disguise". “Don't worry," you assure him, offering a small smile, "I won't breathe a word of this to anyone. It'll be our little secret.” Before he can respond, the elevator doors glide open, ushering in a flood of light and fresh air. Eager to break free from the confines of the elevator, you step out quickly, wary of being trapped again.

“Hey,” Central Cee calls out to you, his voice laced with a hint of concern, “I’ll see you tomorrow,yeah?” A flicker of something indefinable passes between you, a silent understanding that transcends words. Though you yearn for a deeper connection, you suppress the urge, unsure of what you truly desire. With a small smile, you nod in acknowledgement, “Yeah.”

As you both walk away, your steps leading you in opposite directions, you can't help but feel a sense of resonance, a shared moment that binds you together in thought. Despite the divergence of your paths and the separation of your lives, in that fleeting instant, your minds are aligned, fixated on each other, entwined in a momentary bond that defies explanation.

#central cee #centralcee x female reader #central cee fanfic #centralcee imagines #central cee x y/n #central cee x reader #fanfic #imagines

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tojisbbygworl · 11 months

Text

Just For The Night - Hobie Brown x Black!Punk!Reader pt. 2

Summary: Two anarchists meet at a concert and decide that one night just isn't enough...but one night is all they have

Words: 5,697

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Mutual Pining, SMUT, Oral (f receiving), Degradation, Marijuana, High Sex, Pussy Whipped, Slight Accent Kink, Slight Angst, Yandere if you squint, Reader and Hobie are 21+, Canon Divergence (Doesn't follow ATSV events/Hobie's universe is present day instead of 1978), Mentions of protesting and Cop City in Atlanta, I tried my best with the British slang

author's note: Here's part 2! This one is muuuchhh longer so you can really skip the part before the page break if you're just here for the smut. It's mostly just her (your) backstory.

Part 1 Epilogue

AO3 Version

My AO3

Masterlist

"Shit, it's brick out here."

"You're telling me." The difference in temperature from the sweltering venue to the city almost made Hobie want to go back inside and fuck her in the bathroom instead. But Y/N did say that she had a blunt at home and she seemed very eager to smoke it. Or fuck him. Either one was good.

He took a moment to admire her. He was right about her Demonias. They were long with lot's of large buckles and he loved that he still towered over her even though they were platforms. Now that they were out of the dark building, he could see the various tattoos that littered her arm and thigh. Fuck him, he was going to have fun with her.

She told him that she didn’t live far and they could walk there. That was fine with him, he didn’t want to get on a cramped train anyway. He did wish that he could just swing them there, but then he wouldn’t see the way her ass moves while she walks.

He would be lying if he said she didn’t intrigue him. From his knowledge, Atlanta, Georgia was considered the Deep South of America. It had to have been hundreds of miles away. And this area doesn’t seem like a place someone who was swimming in money would be living in. Not that it was terrible, more so humble. Like where he lived.

“So, tell me,” he calls out to her. She was walking a little ways ahead of him, courtesy of Hobie wanting to ogle her. She turned around when he spoke. “How does an Atlanta babe find herself at a Rico Nasty concert in Brooklyn?”

She waits for him to catch up to her then starts walking by his side. “Huh, it’s a…long story.”

“I don’t mind.” He answers honestly. Since they’ve left the concert, Hobie has felt a strange pull towards her that exceeded his feeling of lust. He wondered if she felt the same.

She went quiet and opted to look thoughtfully towards the ground. Hobie began to backtrack. “Or, I could shut up and let you sit on my face instead. Whichever one you want.”

She squealed and hit his chest making him laugh. It wasn’t really a joke, but Hobie’s glad to see that he didn’t make her uncomfortable. “Nah, your good,” she reassured him. “I can do both.”

“Oh?” Hobie raised his eyebrows and gave her his full undivided attention. She takes in a deep breath, let’s it out, and begins to tell him her story.

“Well, you seem like someone who can appreciate a rebel.”

“Yeah?” Hobie bemused. What would this girl be rebelling against? “So, what your like a runaway? Parents, maybe?”

She looked away. Ah, he read her like a book. Then she dropped a bomb on him. “Eh, kind of. More so the Atlanta Police Department.”

He froze. She giggled to herself pretending to not notice and turn around when she was some feet away. She knew he wasn’t expecting that. No one does. She could count on her hand how many people up here she’s told and he was one of them. She trusted him, and she doesn’t know why. She hoped he felt the same.

Hobie couldn’t take his eyes off of her. When he realized how far she was, he ran to catch up. “You're on the run from the Atlanta PD?” She couldn’t contain herself enough and she let out a snort and nodded her head. Hobie shakes his. “No. I don’t believe it. You’re having a laugh.”

“I’m deadass.” She answers still laughing. Hobie drops his head in utter disbelief.

“Well what in bloody hell did you do?” The both of you start walking again.

“...You might not know but, a couple years ago there was a huge uproar of protesting here. In the US, I mean.”

Hobie did not know. He assumes something terrible must have happened, and he’s sure that something like that would have reached London. Maybe it didn’t happen on Earth - 138.

He gingerly shook his head. “I was a part of them. I would organize with some close friends and hand out water and snacks while we were there.” She explained.

“My parents weren’t too happy about that. I had just graduated and I wasn’t going to college. I had a job at a tattoo parlor so…they thought I was a failure.” Hobie listened intently to every word she said. “They would say I just love to bring trouble and always used me going out as an example.”

“They were afraid an officer would come to the door next. And then one day shit went left and we were getting sprayed with tear gas. My stupid ass picked up a can and threw that shit. I guess it hit one of them in the face, I don’t know. I couldn’t see shit.” She giggles and he laughs with her.

“I was pinned down and put in a holding cell for about a week.” She continues.

“Shit.” Hobie knew a few people who that’s happened to. Every story shares the same thing, it’s fucking terrible.

She nods. “Yeahhhh…then my parents kicked me out.”

“Shit,” he exclaims. She continues to nod. “So is that how you got here?” She shakes her head. Hobie gasps. “There’s more?” Nod. He gasps again making her laugh at him. “Tell me.”

“Okay, Okay,” She waits to calm down a bit. “I was just staying with friends after that. Then, maybe some months ago, there was this project announced for the city.” Hobie frowns noticing how much more dejected she had become. “They were going to cut down a forest to create a ‘training ground’ for emergency services.”

“What the fuck…?” Hobie was appalled.

“You can imagine how that sounds to civilians, right? A mock city for law enforcement to play cops and fucking robbers.” She spits out. “I was part of the groups of people who stayed in the forest to prevent construction.”

Just like before, he stopped again. This time, in complete and utter admiration. She smiled at him. “That’s…amazing.”

“Thank you.” She nods her head back to the path so they can continue walking. Hobie stands just a little bit closer to her now.

“So...did shit go left again?” He asked only half joking. She grimaced.

“It was bad. There were a lot of gunshots, and screaming. And fireworks.”

“Fireworks?”

“Fireworks.”

He stared at her expectantly. “And what did you do with them?”

She looks around cutely while smiling. Hobie knows that whatever she did, she didn’t regret it for a second. “Maybe I lit up and threw it at one’s foot. And then it lit the leaves on fire.”

He can’t hold back the laugh that kept from his throat. “Ha!” He clapped his hands and looked at her. “What happened after that?”

“I think he recognized me from the protests or maybe I’m just a hot topic, because the way that man came at me and mowed me down.” Hobie jerked his head back.

“What?”

“Boy, yes. That man tried to beat me with his baton.” The story just kept getting wilder and wilder.

“How did you get out of that?”

“I stole his taser and shot it at his chest.”

“No, your taking the piss,” he shouted excitedly. “No you didn’t.”

“Hold on now because he was still holding me so I got shocked too.” Hobie cackled at her. “It worked though. He let me go and I ran away with some of the others. Only a few people stayed behind. I went back home and woke up to my face on the news the next day.”

The the emotional rollercoaster that Hobie was one was something for the books. He had never felt such quick changes in such little time. He was shocked, then sad, then impressed, then elated, then sad again. What is this girl’s life?

“Man I had to get the fuck out of there. My friend took me up to Maryland where her family lived. Then they brought me here. I got a lil’ ugly ass apartment and a new tattoo job. Made a couple friends, and now I’m here. With you.”

That last part wasn’t expected for either of them. It just came out. But it felt nice.

The two of them looked at each other and basked in their presence. She could feel the pride and admiration for her coming off of him in ways. She could see it in his eyes just as brown as hers. Good. He wanted her to.

A car pulled up from down the street. The both of them were released from their trance and looked. They recognized those kinds of headlights anywhere.

Hobie fought the urge to try and hide before the cop car got to them, as he didn’t want to scare her. There was no reason for her to run from NYPD, right?

Wrong. She grabbed his hand and slipped into the alleyway.

Hobie just let her pull him along. She clearly knows what she’s doing. After coming out on the other side of the street, she begins to keep her eyes alert. She lets go of his hand and continues walking. She just won’t stop giving him reasons to want her, huh?

“And what was that about?” He teases. She smirks at him.

“I didn’t come to New York to be a good girl.” And it was as simple as that.

She walks a few more feet then turns wondering why he’s not saying anything. But when she meets his eyes her heart start beating in anticipation. He was staring her down hard. His smirk was small and his eyelids were low. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

Hobie uses her surprise to his advantage. He walks up to her and pulls her into a tiny space between two buildings. It wasn’t much of an alley, but it did enough to shield their bodies from the street light; it only shining his wicks as he towers over her body and presses her against the wall. He nudges her chin up, winks at her, then meets her lips. Her hands rest on his shoulders as his arms trap her in. He resists putting his tongue in her mouth, as she still had her makeup on and this sweet but desperate kiss would turn sloppy.

He’s the one who has to pull away, her eyes were still closed when he did. “How much longer do I have to wait before I can have you?”

She catches her breath and tells him, “We’re only a couple minutes away, Hobie.”

Hobie leans down again and kisses her neck. She shudders and moves her hands to the back of his. Hobie gives her soft smooches, one lick, and a bite. Then, one more kiss, before he finally pulls away. He tugs her back onto the street and nods his head down the path. She starts to pick up the pace.

Her building wasn’t too shabby. At least the walls looked freshly painted. The inside of her apartment looked very cozy. She had rugs wherever it made sense to put them and low beam orange-yellow lights. She was walking ahead of him and turned around to speak. “Get comfortable on the couch. I’ll be right back.” Then she disappears down a hallway.

Hobie pulls off his boots and places them against the wall. Then he takes off his jacket and a few extra accessories that were a bit uncomfortable now that he had no adrenaline. He walks into her living room and plops himself onto the comfy, leather couch. Faux, he hoped.

He rests his arms and hangs his head backwards over it, eyes closed. Before Y/N disappeared down the hallway, she had flicked a little device on the wall. It must have been the heater since Hobie had just heard something blowing air in the walls. He lifts his head up and takes in his surroundings.

It was a bit small, but perfect for one woman living alone. There were unlit candles on almost every surface, and a beats pill sitting in the side of the room. His favorite sight, by far, was a fat bong sitter right on the coffee table. He chuckled to himself. She could probably live here with a significant other.

It was times like this that he wishes he was normal. He wishes he could wake up to a beautiful face, smoke something, leave home to work, dismantle corporations, or just spend time with his friends, then come back home to that same face, light some candles, and enjoy the rest of his night in her arms. He doesn’t understand why he’s thinking of her when he imagines this, but he invites it.

She comes back with a burner and a small Bic lighter. She uses the burner to light the various candles and Hobie admires her. She still had her clothes on except her shoes which he was happy about. He really wanted to see her tits in those fishnets. Her makeup was off. Her skin was glowing. Her Bantu knots were still in her head. He wondered if she would let him help her take them out, but he’s sure she just wants to fuck and get it over with.

He stops watching her to think about it for a second. When they’re done smoking and having sex Hobie would leave. Not just leave, go back to his own dimension. The thought that he couldn’t keep tabs on her, maybe follow her Instagram or even get her number hadn’t even crossed him. He didn’t like it.

His face must have seemed troubled, because she stopped and looked at him in concern. “You good?” She asks getting his attention.

“Hm? I’m fine, love.” She nods and reaches into her pocket and throws a condom onto the table, then behind her ear to take the blunt out. Then she sits next to him on the couch.

“Want some music?” She asks. Hobie nods. “I’m all punk’d out. Can I play RnB instead?”

“Please do. I feel like chilling right now.”

The pill begins to play soft drums and a bass before Erykah Badu starts singing. He liked music from Miles’s universe, regardless of the genre.

It’s like an unspoken agreement that they would be hanging out for a while. She lights it up, takes a couple puffs, then hands it over to him. He does the same. He takes longer drags producing a much larger cloud then breathes it all in. She looks at him incredulously.

“Ay? Problem, love?”

Her eyes narrow. “You think you’re so cool?”

He takes another drag. “I am.”

She grabs it from him and does a French inhale. Hobie couldn’t stop looking at her. He reaches his hands behind her back and pull her even closer to him. Her legs rested on his. She hands it to him.

“I told you everything about me. What about you? Did you travel to America just to see Rico?”

Hobie shook his head, trying to rack his brain for a proper explanation. “I travel around a lot. Had a pen pal who lived here and I came to see him. He told me about the concert so I went with him. Not as interesting as your journey.” He takes a drag. “Although I’ve had my fair share of trouble with cops.”

“Is that why we click so well?”

He smirked at her. “Yeah.” Another drag. “But, as banging as you are, you’re not on my level.”

Raising her eyebrow she sits up. “And why the hell not?” She jokes.

“Haven’t killed a cop yet.”

It was her turn to be shocked. She gave him the same fascinated look he had. “You’ve killed a cop?”

“Check the laces, innit?”

She stretches her head over the couch to look at his shoes and sure enough, his laces are blue. Speechless and filled with admiration, she freezes. Her neck is exposed, and Hobie doesn’t stop himself from licking it then giving it a smooch. She gasps and shudders. Slowly she smiles as she sits back down and stares at him.

“Does that excite you?” Hobie asks. She nods. He shifts, his pants beginning to get uncomfortable. He puts the blunt down on the side table, grabs her and pulls her into his lap. Her center collides with his crotch and they both groan. Hobie picks up the blunt, puffs on it to light it up again, then hands it to her. “Hit it nice and slowly. And lift your head up.”

She does as he asks. Hobie pulls her neck down to his mouth and his begins to bite and suck on it. She whines and takes the blunt out of her mouth, not being able to focus on it. Hobie hums in desperation when she starts grinding on him.

“You’re a proper sket, aren’t you?” He whispers. He’s sure she has no clue what he means, so he brings her face down to look at him. “Just a big fucking slut.”

She bit her lip and nodded. Hobie smirked, takes the blunt and drags, then kisses her. The smoke escapes their conjoined mouths as they explore them with their tongues. She starts to suck on his, making him hold her tighter to his body. Hobie makes a sound of pleasure in his throat that ripples through his chest. He pulls his face away from hers and they pant while staring at each other.

“Take this shit off.” He lays her down onto the couch and stands up to pull his shirt and jeans off. She takes off her shorts and fishnet bottoms at the same time. Before she could take off her top, Hobie holds her thigh and squeezes it. “Only take off the shirt.”

She nods and pulls the crop top off. Her tits fall in unison constrained by the fishnets. Hobie could moan at the sight of them. He was right about how good they would look. He doesn’t waste anytime in getting between her open legs and grabbing them. He lets his thumb flick her nipples, enjoying the feeling of fabric and skin. Her small moans go straight to his member, and he decides to take his underwear off completely. She braces herself.

He is long and curved. She knew he would ruin her when she got him home, but she underestimated how nice his dick looked.

“Don’t get scared. I’ll take good care of you.” He tells her.

“Yeah you better,” she tells him. She begins looking around. “Hey, where is it?”

“This?” He pulls out the blunt from seemingly nowhere then the lighter lighting it up once more. He hands it to her then leans over and takes a nipple into his mouth. Her moan was lethal, and Hobie loses his resolve. He was going to tease her, but he couldn’t deny the pleasure shooting through his body as he licks her nipple through the small diamond hole. She begins humping the air.

“You’re desperate to be played with aren’t you, love?”

“Uh-Huh” she says breathy. Her eyes are red and lidded. Hobie gets an idea.

“Hand that over,” he takes a couple more puffs giving her a kiss afterwards. She reaches out for it and he smirks at her. He holds it away from her, rubbing her thighs. She lets out an exclamation.

“Excuse you. That’s my weed.”

“What’s yours is mine.”

“Um, what’s mine is mine.”

Hobie trails his finger to her wet center, playing with her thong before pushing it to the side. He puts his thumb on her clit and she flinches. “Oh…”

“Yeah. Stop talking all that shit.” He begins to rub his thumb around it, his finger getting wet with each pass over. She’s whimpering and jerking her hips into his hand. “You like that?” All she can do is nod.

Hobie slows down and switches fingers. He smokes while inserting his middle finger into her. As it sinks further and further, she lets out a satisfied moan. He pumps it in and out of her pussy, a squelching sound filing the air.

He leans down and puts his tongue on her clit not letting up on fingering her too. She lets out a loud moan. Hobie puts the blunt on the floor, obsessed with the way her pussy gushes in his mouth. She starts to hump his face. Hobie watches her hand begin to reach out to him, then he grabs it and puts it on his head, wrapping her fingers around his wicks. He moans when she begins to pull him further into her pussy. He pulls his drenched finger out grabs her thighs and grips them tightly. He shakes his head back and forth, sucking and spreading her juices across her vagina.

“Ooo, I’m gonna cum.”

When he hears that he lifts his head and wipes his mouth. She whines but he shushes her by taking the blunt, holding it to her mouth, and she takes a drag from it. She is completely relaxed as she breathes it out, her eyelids lidded and eyes fluttering into the back of her head. He thought it was the sexiest thing you had done that night.

“Fuck, you’re peng.” Shit, he has got to start learning American slang. “That was sexy. I want to see you do it with my dick inside you.”

He takes the condom and rolls it on his dick, groaning under his breath from how it feels. He aligns himself with her hips.

“Ooo,” she lets out. “But wait, you don’t want some head?”

Hobie shakes his head and jerks himself. “I want you now, beautiful.” He keeps the blunt in his mouth and slaps his dick on her pussy. Her juices splash onto their thighs. Hobie grunts.

Keeping his head down, he looks at her face. Her eye lids are still low, but he can see her beautiful brown cornea staring at him full of lust and want. With the blunt in his mouth, he talks out the side of his mouth. “Beg for it,” he says.

Her eyelids widen, but the promiscuous look on her face doesn’t change. “What, baby?”

“Mm,” he says pleased by the pet name. He takes it out of his mouth and smiles at her. “Beg me to fuck you like a whore, love.”

She scrunches her shoulders up and tries to close her thighs, but she smiles and bites her lip. She liked the degradation and embarrassment of it all. Hobie liked it too. He pulls her thighs apart again. Placing his dick on top of her pussy, he waits for her to follow his instruction. “Come on, I know you can, pretty girl. You want this dick don’t you?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Call me baby again.”

“Please fuck me, baby.”

Hobie pumps his dick even more. He places the tip right at her hole, becoming evermore impatient. “Fuck, now say my name.”

“Hobie…mmm…” he slowly sinks himself into her.

“Fuck, say it again.”

“Hobie…” They sigh together when he’s fully sheathed inside of her. Her walls are already clamping around him. She’s so wet, and ready for his dick. Hobie keeps himself inside her and lights the blunt again reveling in her desperation. He takes his precious time to smoke some more while she begins to whine and grind herself onto him.

“Hobie, please fuck me.”

“Wait.” She whimpers for him, tears begin to form in her eyes from the depravity.

“Hobie…”

“If you keep saying my name like that I might stay inside you like this.”

“No, please don’t. I need it so badly.”

He inhaled a ghost. “Yeah?” He slowly unsheathes himself then slams back into her. She yelps.

“Yes, daddy,”

Hobie whistles. “Oh, I didn’t know you had that in the vault. You wanna keep calling me that, Atlanta babe?"

“Start fucking me and I’ll call you whatever you want.”

Hobie chuckles. “You got a mouth, don’t you?” He holds the blunt to her mouth again, grabs her hips, then starts fucking her. "I like baby a little more." She blew out the smoke the same way, it coming out in puffs from Hobie’s humping.

“Shit, love. You’re amazing.” He takes the blunt away and places it on the side table. Hobie grabs both sides of her hips and begins to fuck her harder. Their moans fill the apartment. Hobie stares at her beautiful breasts bouncing in her fishnets. Hobie’s too tall to lean down and suck on them, so he grabs one instead and squeezes it. She looks into his eyes and grabs his face. She smiles at him. Hobie’s eyes fill with curiosity.

“You can smack them if you want.”

Hobie slows down in disbelief. Then he smiles and starts fucking her harder. Hobie takes his hand and smacks one, as she requested. She moaned with a permanent beam on her face. Hobie is completely and totally enamored. He stops fucking her and pulls himself out.

“Come sit on me.”

“Okay, baby”

Hobie sits upright on the couch. She climbs on top of him and grabs his dick, loving the little grunt he let out She inserts him back inside her. They moan together while she sinks down onto his curved length. She pauses when he’s fully inside, his dick hitting places she didn’t even know could feel so good.

She grabs his face and pulls it up to meet hers. They stare into each other’s eyes for what felt like forever. Hobie lost himself in hers. He couldn’t move or speak or think. All of his emotions were portrayed in the way he looked at her. He wanted her, badly. In this moment she became everything to him. Then she started to rock.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered embarrassingly. The sounds that left his love’s mouth were lilted and pleasured. It didn’t take long for her to go faster. “Just like that, babe.”

Hobie’s breaths are loud and raunchy, while she lets out small pleasured hums. He takes his hands and rubs up her torso. Hobie wraps his arms around her waist and embraces her tightly. His head rests in her neck as he shifts down the couch the begins lifting his hips up into her. She doesn’t sound so quiet anymore.

“Oh…Y/N…” he whines.

Something inside of Hobie broke and he felt completely vulnerable. If she were to ask him anything, he would answer truthfully. He wanted to tell her everything. About the spider society, him being a spider man, the multiverse and everything within it. He wonders if she would accept it. Hell, he felt as though he could, she reacted better than he imagine she would when he told her he’s killed a cop.

For some reason, he felt like he could trust her. He thinks if he did tell her the whole truth, she wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. How would she react if he opened a portal right then and there and brought her to his own apartment in his own universe? Would she be okay with it? Would she even come in the first place?

He liked the idea of keeping her with him. He liked the thought of seeing her all the time without the risks of inter dimensional travel. Just coming back home, after the most tiring and troublesome day of working for Miguel, and seeing her beautiful body and even more gorgeous face.

Mm, he really liked it.

“Ngh…fuck, Y/N,” he whines into her ear, holding on to her body for dear life.

“Hobie, I’m gonna cum,”

He smacked her ass then pulled her face towards his. "Call me baby."

"Baby, I'm gonna cum." He bites down on her shoulder and begins to really pound into her forcing quick breaths from her lungs.

When the both of them come undone, they stare into each others eyes, not saying a word. She slowly grinds into him, and it overstimulates the both of them.

“Fuck, doll,” he whimpers looking between their stomachs. He was completely seated inside of her, and made him want to go for a second round. It normally would take him a minute to get himself back up, but with the way she was yearning for him with her eyes, it won’t take him long before he flips her around and takes her from behind.

As the both of them were coming down, Hobie began to feel an overarching sense of anxiety. This wasn’t Spidey-sense as there wasn’t any feeling of danger. No. Hobie was feeling…grief.

Grief from what? Why is it that he didn’t want to stop humping into her? Making her whisper curses into his ear? Was it because if he did, that would mean what they were having was over? If he pulls out of her, he’ll put on his clothes, find an alley, and travel back to Earth-138. Hobie can’t see or contact her. He would be gone forever.

Did she feel the same? Is that why she refuses to let go of him? Why she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears as she continues to milk his dick?

He could use some rest. He wanted nothing more than to finish smoking and fall asleep. But, when he thought of his bong at home it felt…wrong. As if there was a question and that wasn’t the right answer.

Why is he instead thinking about finishing what they were smoking then falling asleep on her bed? He needed to get a fucking grip. So he knocked out of his stupor. It felt like a bucket of cold water splashed over him and he came back to reality

She felt the shift. The thought they both shared that it was time to stop. Their time together has come to an end. The toll of a bell rings through her chest, and she fights the tears as she climbs off of him, kissing him sweetly before she goes.

Hobie sits there and looks at her standing up. He enjoyed that kiss. He wanted another one. He needed another one. He swallows his spit and asks her, “How was it?”

She smiles at him shyly. She was just the prettiest thing he had laid eyes on. “Amazing, Hobie.”

He smiled in content and relief. “I live to please,” he joked. It was otherworldly for him.

She giggled and walks by him, but before she could go, Hobie grabs her arm and pulls her down towards him. He captures her lips in a blissful kiss, then lets her go so she can walk to her room for a minute. Hobie isn’t sure what she’s doing, but while she’s gone, he lets his mind run. Tonight, he had found a perfect woman. She was beautiful and disruptive, not performative in anyway. All the qualities of a superhero in one civilian body. If anyone deserved the spider bite, it was her.

This…can’t be the last time he sees her. And why does it have to be? No one cares about the casual travel rule; everyone visits each other’s worlds all the time for whatever reason. The only thing was doing it sparsely so Miguel doesn’t catch on. Hobie could pop in here and there, right?…but would she want that?

How could it even work? He has no way of contacting her, so she’ll never know when to expect him. Is she just supposed to wait for the one day he can finally show up?

This was frustrating. Hobie always breaks the rules. He does what’s not supposed to be done, but he can’t figure out how this relationship would ever work. He can’t bring her with him, lest her particles stretch, bend, and spread across space and time, and he can’t stay here. His people need their spider man.

Damn, he wants to keep her so bad. She is perfect. Even if he could get to America back home, he would never be able to find her. The story is different in every universe. Hell, she probably wasn’t even in America.

She comes back into the living room adorned with pjs to see Hobie standing with his clothes back on. The condom had long been thrown away. Some of his belts and accessories were off as well as his jacket, but he looked as though he was ready to go. She felt…broken. And she didn’t know why.

This wasn’t her first one night stand, but she doesn’t think she’s ever clicked with someone like this before. Definitely not a stranger. Definitely not a fine stranger like him. He was perfect to her, in every sense of the word.

And she to him. Certainly, this was his Gwen Stacy. “You goin’?” She whispered. She cleared her throat and held up the roach. “Thought you would want to finish this.”

Hobie could feel that she was just as desperate to get him to stay as he was inclined to. He looked into her longing eyes with some of his own feelings, and considered a possibility. If Miles can have his Gwen from a different universe, why can’t he have the same? It worked for Miles.

And he knows the answer. It’s because she’s a regular person. Hobie is Spider Punk. He doesn’t belong here, and she doesn’t belong with him. But it wouldn’t hurt to dream of getting what he wanted.

He clears his throat. “I, um…” he couldn’t find the words he wanted to convey. How does he say, “I’m a spider man from a different universe and we will never see each other again.” without scaring her from how clinically insane it sounded?

Luckily, she speaks for him. “I’m saying…you can stay the night.” She finishes confidently. “If you wanted.”

He did. He did want to. He wanted to stay with her so bad. But he shouldn’t. He’s spent way too much time here, and he has no idea what would alert Miguel…he should go. He should go. He really should go.

Hobie…

Go.

“I would love too.”

Her beautiful smile makes its appearance and the doubts that Hobie had melted away. He drops his things and start to take off his shoes. When he walks towards her, he notices how badly she’s struggling to contain her excitement and he knows he made the right choice.

“…Just for the night,” She says, giving him the roach.

“Yeah.” He takes it from her and grabs her hand to walk down the hall into her room. “Just for the night.”

He’s gone before the sun is up the next morning.

ending a/n: I hope y’all liked this. I love writing angst so much y’all don’t even understand I had to put some in here. And yes, he takes her hair down for her.

I am cursed with writing way too much and I apologize for all that reading. I hope you still enjoyed it. It was very fun to write and it’s probably one my most favorite things I’ve ever written. I love Hobie so much, maybe I’ll write for him again idk chile. Maybe I’ll write these two again in an unrelated fic. Or maybe I’ll continue this and y’all can get y’all’s happy ending. Maybe. I don’t rly write those lmao.

Part 1 Epilogue

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Taglist: @otaku-degenarate

#across the spiderverse #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider punk smut #black reader #spider punk x you #hobie brown #hobie brown x you #hobie brown smut #smut #spider punk x black reader #spider punk x black!reader #spider punk x black!reader smut #spider punk x black reader smut

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siilvan · 9 months

Text

bloodsport – II

prologue | part one | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: you never realized how boring captivity could be. you hate to admit it, but makarov is the only interesting thing around, and perhaps the closest thing you have to an ally in this place.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra, no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, descriptions of blood/injuries, inaccurate medical procedures, reader gets harassed :/, reader kills a dude, russian written by a non-russian speaker (please correct me if it's wrong!!)

word count: 3.7k

note: the temptation to write the filthiest makarov/reader/yuri fic is slowly taking over my brain. i'm begging activision to reveal my ex-war-criminal husband already bc i have two hands for a reason

true to his word, you don't see makarov for the rest of the day. after you're brought back to your cell and locked away, you take the time to rest and gather your thoughts. the lumpy bed provides little comfort as you try to sleep, but it's better than the cold floor. you manage to drift off eventually, even with every voice and sound in the corridor stirring you awake.

when you finally drag yourself out of bed the next morning, blinking away any lingering exhaustion and gently stretching your sore muscles, the sky is still dark. the storm that was raging all night had subsided for now, and through the single barred window on the back wall, you can see groups of soldiers outside. running drills, training in marksmanship, transporting supplies, patrolling the grounds - it reminds you of the bases you've visited with the team.

the team. you trudge over to the only other furniture in the room, the metal chair that you moved to sit near the window, and plop down onto the seat unceremoniously. with how muddled your mind has been since the conversation with makarov, you've hardly had time to think about them.

they're alive. you just need to keep telling yourself that. they'll come for you as soon as they can. all you can do until then is keep faith and survive.

as a pair of boots stomps down the hall towards your cell, you begin to ponder if taking matters into your own hands is the only way you'll escape. you're just as capable as the rest of your team, surely you can find a way out of this crumbling prison.

you turn your head at the sound of keys jingling. a guard is standing at your door, unlocking it, before looking at you. "let's go," he says, thick accent lacing every word. "you're on a schedule."

with a small wince, you rise from the chair and cross the room. the guard starts down the corridor, heading in the opposite direction that you went yesterday. you follow close behind, clammy palms wringing together. it almost feels like you're restrained again, with metal cuffs digging into your wrists and binding you, keeping you from struggling or defending yourself.

after descending a staircase and passing a few corners, you reach wherever the guard was taking you. he pushes a door open and ushers you inside, revealing a sizeable shower facility. you send him a cursory glance, confused as he motions for you to step further into the space.

"shower." he mutters, standing by the door. you wordlessly turn to the showers, then back to him.

"do you mind?" you ask, nodding towards the door. "i'd like a little privacy. it's not like i can tunnel my way out."

he shakes his head at first, refusing your request, until you decide to do the same, silently staring at him. a beat passes between you until he spins around, grumbling something along the lines of "hurry up," and exits the room. once the door slams shut behind him, you let out a relieved breath and walk over to one of the many stalls.

you scan the area before carefully undressing, paying close attention so as to not mess up your bandages or strain any of your healing injuries. you quickly dive past the thin curtain and toss your clothes over the curtain rod.

a string of curses fall from your lips when you twist the knob and cold water pours out of the shower head, prickling like ice against your skin. cleaning yourself up whilst protecting your bandages is a difficult task, but you manage to keep them relatively dry. you were in need of a fresh set, anyway. grains of sand and dust leftover from al-mazrah is washed down the drain, and as you start to adjust to the freezing temperature, some of your muscle aches follow suit.

a few minutes of relief pass by as you try to relax, though the bliss is short-lived when you remember your conversation from yesterday. you hate the thought of listening to makarov of all people, but did he have a point? are you truly just as bad as him, even with good intentions being your motivation?

you're well aware of what your job entails. as captain price so bluntly puts it: we get dirty, and the world stays clean. you know that some missions leave a sour taste in your mouth and a doubt in your mind. are you truly doing the right thing? can you do better? is there a way to save everyone?

as you shut off the water and attempt to dry off with a clean towel left on a small bench nearby, you realize that you're giving makarov exactly what he wants. he brought up the topic with the intent of messing with your head. he's trying to break you - for whatever reason, you're not sure. all you know is that you can't give up. you have to stay strong for the team.

you pull your clothes back on, nose scrunching at the uncomfortable feeling of damp gauze sticking to your skin. the guards seemed to bounce between civility and cruelty depending on the moment; perhaps you can catch someone in a good mood and request a replacement.

the door swings open and you jolt, spinning around to face the intruder. the man from earlier is standing in the doorway, a look of disinterest evident even through his balaclava. "you are done, yes?"

clearly he isn't the person to ask, you think, following him into the corridor. he leads you back down the same path as earlier, through winding halls and up a set of stairs, stopping once you arrive at the cell you call home. you keep an eye out for anyone along the way who looks to be doing well, searching for a person to seek help from.

no one catches your attention, leaving you only one option: the guard currently locking the door behind you.

"uh– can i ask you a question?" you turn around to look at him, wrapping your hands around the iron bars. he sends a small glare in your direction, but pauses nonetheless.

"what?" he murmurs, standing up straight.

you lift your arms, showing off the damp and gradually loosening bandages. "any chance i can get these changed?"

his eyes flit down to your arms, then back to your face. he sighs, heavy and deep, and grumbles out a reply. "i will get the doctor."

with that, he leaves your sight, lifting a hand to his radio and saying something that you can't understand. "should've agreed to those fucking russian lessons from price," you mumble, staggering across the room and sitting on the bed while picking at your loose gauze.

it feels like an hour passes by before you hear someone coming down the hall again. by this point, you were assuming that the guard had forgotten about you.

you sit up from your slumped position against the metal frame and are immediately greeted by a new person on the other side of the door. an older man, nicely dressed and carrying a heavy bag that you fear will topple him over, regarding you with a grin that feels out of place in this shithole.

"you must be petra," he starts, pushing the door open and letting himself inside. he keeps his distance, both hands visible and wrapped around the handle of the bag in front of his body. "doctor tarkovsky." he continues, introducing himself. you nod, watching closely as he approaches you and places his bag on the bed next to you. the chair is dragged over, much like the other day, and he sits.

"the work you did... you saved my life, doctor." you mutter, allowing him to take one of your arms into his gentle hold. he hums in reply, taking great care in undoing the dressings.

"спасибо, but it was not me that saved you." he chuckles softly, eyes briefly lifting from your arm to meet your gaze. "the commander was responsible for that. by the time you arrived here and into my care, he had managed to stabilize you."

he mumbles something to himself about "his military days" while dropping his gaze back down to your newly exposed skin. your eyes follow his, and you wince at the sight of burn marks and stitched lacerations. a cold breeze enters into the room through the window and stings as it sweeps over you, making you clench your hand into a tight fist.

"the commander? you mean makarov?" you ask, forcing yourself to look away and stare at the wall behind the doctor. the same man that put you here is the one that kept you alive. go figure. you glare holes into a random brick, trying to make sense of it. based on the few interactions that you've had with him, as well as the many things that price had to say, that kindness seems out of character.

the fact that he hasn't tortured you to the brink of insanity is odd enough.

"yes, he demanded that i give you the best treatment. said he wanted you alive and in good condition." the doctor rummages through the bag next to you and begins to clean your wounds and apply new dressings, deft hands making quick work of the process. you remain silent as he wraps your arm in a new set of bandages, waiting for him to finish.

you finally speak once he's halfway through rewrapping your other arm. "is he always so... touchy?" you murmur, almost a whisper.

"touchy?" he repeats the word.

"i think i pissed him off yesterday," you say, tongue darting out to wet your chapped lips. "ended up slammed against a wall. is he always so quick to anger?"

after securing the bandages on your arm, the doctor leans back and shakes his head. "commander makarov is usually the calmest person in a conversation," he replies with a surprised huff. "whatever you said or did must have struck a nerve, made him lose his temper. even the soldiers working under him struggle to do such a thing."

you furrow your brow at him. he waves off your befuddlement and gets started on treating your other injuries - namely, the large gash on your side and the burns on your back. as he's loosely wrapping your back in gauze, he makes another comment.

"it could be that you angered him, rather than what you did."

"i angered him?" you parrot back to him, craning your neck to look at him over your shoulder. the doctor nudges you forward again and hums affirmatively.

yet another thing that doesn't make any sense, you think. besides your affiliation with the one-four-one, there's nothing about you that should stand out to a man like makarov. you don't possess any top secret intel or really hold any importance to anyone outside of your team; so, why is he treating you so strangely? is it a game he's playing, trying to mess with his real enemy, the captain?

are you merely a pawn, a bargaining chip between two forces much bigger than yourself? makarov is dangling your life like bait, hoping to catch a better prize. you squeeze your eyes shut and take in a deep breath, considering your options.

makarov would only hold onto you for one reason. drawing out captain price. that means price is alive, at least to makarov. if you stay here, you might be able to confirm this plan for yourself. however, if you can escape and deliver all the intel you've collected so far, you could prevent the plan from advancing any further. no matter which option you choose, rotting away in this prison cell won't help.

as kind as the doctor is, he's still one of makarov's men. you can't trust him. you're on your own.

"so, is it going to scar?" you inquire with a smile, fixing your shirt after he pulls away. he moves to gather his things, reaching into his bag and handing you a dose of painkillers.

he sighs and sends you another smile of his own. "the burns aren't deep enough, thankfully, and the lacerations shouldn't scar so long as they're properly cared for. you are very lucky."

"guess i am. thank you, again."

you swallow down the pills - dry, much to your chagrin - and give him a small wave as he exits the room, the iron door closing behind him with a soft clunk. the guard from earlier reappears to lock it moments later, leaving you trapped in the cell once more.

⋆⋆⋆

another five days pass by, and you mentally curse whatever higher power put you here. your routine remains largely unchanged: at roughly seven o' clock, one of the guards stops by to take you to the showers. by seven-thirty, the doctor arrives to change your bandages. you're given your only meal around noon and left to your own devices until eight in the evening, when the doctor arrives to change your bandages again.

you are slowly beginning to heal, at least. the lack of nutrition was stunting the process, but according to the doctor, you were still on the mend. it won't be long until you can get the stitches taken out.

you've spent several of these past one-hundred-and-twenty hours wondering if that's what makarov is waiting for. he wants you alive to torture, to indulge in breaking something fixed by his own hand. maybe the doctor is in on the plan. you wouldn't be surprised to discover that he's reporting your healing process to makarov, giving him a countdown of sorts.

as you rest on the cold, hard stone floor, with your back propped up against the side of the bed, tossing a rubber ball that you pocketed at the wall, you question if your paranoia is getting the better of you.

the rubber ball rolls across the ground after you throw it at the wall. it starts to come back to you, before bouncing off the edge of your boot and heading towards the door. you lazily follow it with your eyes, until you notice a person standing at the other side of the bars, their gaze transfixed on you.

it's a man wearing an outfit similar to the doctor's, though you can easily tell that he's substantially younger. in his late thirties to early forties, you estimate. he carefully kicks the ball out of his way after entering the room. you watch him like a hawk, an uneasy feeling washing over you.

"i'll be handling your care today." he announces, plopping his similarly-designed supply bag on the mattress. you pull yourself up to stand and dust yourself off, taking a healthy step back from him.

"something happen with doctor tarkovsky?" you ask as the younger man rummages through his bag and slips on a pair of latex gloves. he shakes his head, not even bothering to look at you, and continues searching through his supplies.

"tarkovsky is busy," he responds, motioning for you to sit. you hesitate for a second, but ultimately decide to shake off the nerves and follow his orders. "i'm going to start with your back today." he adds. you nod, moving to face away from him and lift your shirt up.

he's silent while replacing the gauze, and you're not sure whether you prefer that or talking. his touch is slightly less gentle, which you chalk it up to less experience. eventually, he moves on to the gash on your side, settling in the normal chair with an expression that you find hard to decipher.

your unease is suddenly validated as he cleans the stitches. his unoccupied hand comes to rest on your thigh, just above your knee, catching your attention. your eyes fall from the wall to his hand, then to the open bag at your side. laying near the top of it is a scalpel - small, but lethal in the right hands. you clear your throat and shift, bouncing your knee under his hold, testing the waters.

instead of removing his hand, he slips it just barely higher. you squint, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, debating on acting now or waiting a little longer. maybe he doesn't realize it.

as his hand slides higher, though, gloved fingertips digging into the plush of your thigh, that notion goes out the window. you slowly lower your hand closest to the bag and place it on the mattress next to it. the younger doctor pulls back, examining his work, his thumb rubbing languid circles into your skin. you act while he's distracted.

with trained proficiency, you grab the scalpel from the top of the pile and shove the man forward, slicing across his neck in one swift motion. he stumbles backwards, reaching up to desperately grasp at his throat as he chokes on the blood pouring from the open wound.

"don't fucking touch me again," you seethe, fixing your shirt and holding the scalpel in a white-knuckled grip. the sounds of him tripping over the chair and falling to the ground alerts the guards stationed in the corridor, who immediately rush through the door with their guns drawn and pointed at you.

they're shouting at you, but you can't make out what they're saying over the blood pounding in your ears. you turn away from the dying man and stare them down, unmoving from your spot in the middle of the room.

after a brief standoff, the guards suddenly look over their shoulders and shuffle away from each other, revealing a familiar face. one you haven't seen in almost a week, and assumed you wouldn't see for a while longer.

makarov steps to the front of the small group as the ringing in your ears begins to subside. his eyes dart from you to the man lying on the ground, having choked to death shortly before he arrived at the scene. he chuckles, low and controlled, and turns to the guards.

"убрать этот беспорядок," he mutters, waving towards the corpse. the men holster their guns and move past him, lifting the body up and carrying it out. as the group disappears down the hall, you find yourself alone with makarov. the scalpel slips from your fingers and clatters against the floor, pulling his focus back to you.

"well? are you going to punish me for that?" you ask plainly, the pool of red still visible in your peripheral vision.

"should i?" he counters, casually sauntering across the room. his gaze flits from yours to your cheek, which you soon realize is wet with the man's blood.

you shrug, shoulders drooping. "i killed one of your men. most people would punish a prisoner for less."

he wipes the blood off your cheek with his forefinger and huffs softly, seemingly pleased with the situation. it's only now that you notice his slightly disheveled appearance; his white dress shirt is untucked and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms that are covered in a light layer of dirt. minor cuts and bruises bloom on his skin, resembling self-defense wounds.

"i could never expect a member of the one-four-one to accept capture quietly," makarov remarks, picking the chair up off the floor. "i'm surprised it took you this long, if anything. i was expecting to receive reports by the second day."

he raps his knuckles against the seat twice, urging you to sit. you end up mirroring your first interaction after he sits on the bed across from you, elbows resting on top of his knees.

you grab a set of cleaning wipes from the bag forgotten at the foot of the bed and offer them to him. "so, i'm assuming you're not here to share the fun story behind those obvious self-defense wounds?" you tilt your head to the side, regarding him with a sarcastic smile.

"like i said in our prior conversation," he takes the pack from your outstretched hand and haphazardly wipes his arms clean, the lack of care enough to make you inwardly flinch at the potential pain. "once traitors are found, they are dealt with."

"seems like they got to you first," you snort.

besides a pointed glare, he doesn't dignify your comment with a response. instead, he takes your arm into his hold, removing the old bandages with almost the same level of indifference that he treated his own injuries with.

"ow." you grunt, a bit overdramatic. in truth, his touch isn’t any less gentle than the doctor you just killed.

"stop complaining." he responds bluntly.

"maybe be more careful, then." you snap, tugging your arm back. you're being intentionally difficult, pushing his buttons, but you deserve to be a little shitty to the man holding you hostage.

makarov grabs your elbow, one of the few relatively uninjured parts of your arm, and yanks you forward, until your free hand slams down onto the space next to him to catch yourself from falling. he leans in, your noses nearly touching, and sneers.

"this is the extent of my kindness, petra." he tightens his hold when you try to create some distance, locking you in place. "do not tempt me to withdraw it." he whispers, dark eyes boring into yours.

you swallow back a whimper as his grip tightens again, blunt nails digging into healing skin, nodding in reply. he releases you a moment later and resumes his previous actions, quickly yet effectively rewrapping your arm. you grudgingly decide to cooperate for the other set, making it go by much faster than the last.

"tarkovsky said you're usually pretty calm," you mumble as he secures the bandages in place. "is it the one-four-one that frustrates you so easily? or, am i just a special case, hm?"

makarov, clearly interested in continuing the running theme since your first meeting, does not respond. you really should get used to it. you say nothing more as he stands up and grabs the discarded supply bag, walking towards the door. he pauses, holding the door open, and you nearly miss the words said to you over his shoulder.

"anyone else would be dead already."

translations:

спасибо (spasibo) - thank you

убрать этот беспорядок (ubrat' etot besporyadok) - clean up this mess

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