#anyway i was in the middle of another set & got *waves hands* distracted | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thecreelhouse · 3 months

Note

😬🧸👀 - with Gator🤭

sorry this took so long bb! I kinda got carried away 😅 but I hope you enjoy!!

18+//MDNI// AFAB reader with intense menstrual sickness, no use of y/n, implied smut, etc. etc.

😬 confessing feelings

🧸 exes with feelings

👀 forced proximity

“You’re really gonna make me sit in here all night?”

“Sure am.”

You flop back onto the rickety, worn cot in the holding cell, grumbling to yourself while Gator’s leaned against the wall, eyes fixated on you.

“Wanna share that one with the class?” He taunts, just waiting for the tiniest fuck up to add to your charges. You just lift your middle finger into the air and hold it towards him. “Yeah, still fuckin’ immature. Figures.”

Scoffing, you sit back up, ignoring how dizzy you are from the sudden movement; putting your ex boyfriend in his place, even behind bars, was more important than how you were feeling right now.

“Me? Gator, when the fuck are you gonna become more self aware? You’ve got the maturity level of a teenage boy, I swear.” He just rolls his eyes over your words, blowing thick clouds from his vape, ignoring the way your comment jabs at his feelings anyway. “Did you even think to ask why I did what I did?”

Gator strolls up to the bars, glaring at you, with that stupid fucking vape in hand. “What? Why you stole? Why would anythin’ justify that?” As he takes another hit, you push to your feet, ignoring again how lightheaded you feel before stomping over to the other side of the cell. You’re quick to grab the vape from his hands through the metal bars.“Hey! Jesus, why are ya’ actin’ like you’re on the fuckin’ rag?”

“Because I am, asshole!” Glowering at him, you back yourself up further into the cell, tauntingly waving his vape in your hands. “You ain’t gettin’ this back.” You take a glance at the flavor and laugh. “How did you give me shit for liking fruity drinks, but you’re out here inhaling strawberry bubblegum like that ain’t the same thing?”

“Can’t believe I forgot how goddamn irritatin’ you get on your period.” He’s grumbling while searching his pocket for keys to the cell.

“Can’t believe I forgot how misogynistic you can get.” You spit back, ready to throw more sharp words his way, but an intense, shooting pain runs down your lower stomach, through your legs and to your knees. Instead, the only thing leaving your mouth is a collection of variations of ‘fuck’. “Fuck this, fuck this stupid fucking town, fuck you, fuck periods, fu—”

Distracted by your pain and justified anger, you’re caught off guard when Gator pushes you into the nearest wall, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. He pushes you hard enough that you huff the air out of your lungs, but not hard enough to hurt you. Everything already hurts, anyway, but it’s still a dick move on his part.

“Gator what the fuck is your problem?!”

“What’s yours?” He grits through his jaw, set stiff in his own anger. He easily grabs the vape from your hands, stuffing it in his pocket, but still keeping a hold on you with one hand. You try to fight his grasp, but can’t free yourself. “Thought you liked playin’ rough.”

That’s it. You think to yourself. I’m fuckin’ sick of his bullshit.

“Yeah, when I’m not about to pass out, you stupid fuck.” You meant for your words to come out with an edge, but you just sound weak; this was normal with your period. It drained you down to nothing every month, hitting you with all kinds of sickness, migraines, sometimes even fainting, but you’ve gotten better at catching that before it can happen.

Except right now, where you were more concerned about giving Gator a taste of his own medicine, and now your ears are ringing while the edges of your vision darken.

“Shit,” Gator grabs a stronger hold on you before your knees can buckle as another flash of pain runs down your legs. Now he remembers. He wants to kick himself for forgetting how brutal your cycles were, when long ago, he was the one to comfort you through them. “C’mon, you need to sit.” He leads you to the cot, helping you lift your legs as you lay on your side, face scrunched in pain. “Do you need anythin’? Like will anythin’ help right—“

“Unless you’ve got a heating pad, no.” You laugh mirthlessly as you hug yourself around your torso. “And you fuckin’ took my painkillers. So that’s a bust.”

“They weren’t yours—” Gator shuts himself up quickly; now’s not the time to shame you for your first and only harmless crime. “Hang tight,” He rushes out of the cell, not bothering to lock you in again. Not like you could sprint for the door right now anyway. Gator comes back, ripping open an evidence bag as he makes his way to you.

“Gator, wait, what the fuck, you can’t just—“

“Case was dropped and they never came back for it.” He answers before you can finish your thought, plugging a heating pad into a nearby outlet outside the cell; thank goodness the cord is long and reaches into the hallway.

“Wait… why was a heating pad used as evidence to begin with?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, it’s clean and works,” He hands the heating pad to you, and you take it without further question.

You press it against your body where you need it most, and feel slight relief. It doesn’t make the aching cramps and shooting pain down your legs stop, but it helps ease up on that, at least. “Thank you,” you speak up softly.

Gator nods before holding a finger up, “Hang on.” He disappears again, and comes back just as fast as he left, water bottle in one hand, and over the counter painkillers in the other. “Will these help?” You silently nod, grabbing both items from him and sit up. As you take double the recommended dose, desperate to make the pain go away. Gator drags a chair in to sit next to you, asking the question you offered earlier, “You still wanna tell me why you were stealin’?” His tone isn’t belittling, if anything, it’s just curiosity and concern that carries his words.

Sighing, you reply, “Have you seen how expensive everythin’ is lately?”

“Well, yeah, but you’re still workin’, right?”

“They cut my hours at the diner, and I’ve been struggling to make ends meet.” It’d normally embarrass you to be so upfront about financial issues, but you did offer an explanation earlier, and now you’re in a daze from the pain, slowly subsiding, now slipping into the post-pain fatigue you usually get. The last thing on your mind is caring about your pride. “Didn’t have enough for painkillers and tampons, ain’t that messed up? I get it, stealing’s bad, but what the fuck else was I supposed to do?

“You coulda’ called me.”

“Gator, the last time we talked was months ago, and you told me you wished we never met.” He winces at his past words being dug up. How could he say that to you? There was never a reason to end things the way they ended.

There was honestly never a reason to end things at all.

“I shoulda’ never said that shit to you. M’sorry.” Gator’s ashamed he let things fall apart the way they did. He’s ashamed he even created cracks into the only sturdy relationship he’s ever been in. “So much was buildin’ up and I was overwhelmed… and that’s no excuse for the way I hurt ya’. And m’sorry I never asked why you would even steal to begin with. I just knew it wasn’t like you, but I didn’t think to ask anythin’ further.”

Yawning, you fight off the urge to let your eyes rest closed. “If you were anyone else, I’d be throwing that apology into the trash right now. You’re lucky I still got love for you.”

It’s silent for a moment, but the moment feels like it lasts an eternity, until Gator speaks up. “You’re just sayin’ that to butter me up and kick the charges under the rug.” He wants to say he still loves you, too, but he’s worried it’s not the time or place.

Brows scrunching together, you shake your head, “What? No way. I mean it, even if I’m pissed at you right now— oh… oh no. Um… Gator?” Your eyes traveled to the once open door of the holding cell, now shut and locked, with Gator’s keys just past the bars on a desk nearby. “Please tell me you got spare keys.”

Puzzled, Gator’s head spins to the door. “… No.” It’s late, and he’s too worn down from the day to start yelling in frustration over this, so he just slides his hands over his face, sighing roughly into his palms. “Fuck my life. When did that even fuckin’ happen?”

You shrug. “Karma.”

“Ka— Hey, don’t you start.” Gator warns. “I’m stuck in here with ya’ now, so be nice.”

“For how long?”

“…. ‘Til sunrise. So that’s in,” Gator checks the time on his phone, grumbling in defeat. “Three hours.”

“That’s what you get for arresting me at a 24 hour convience store at 3 am.”

“I- I was doin’ my job!” Gator crosses his arms as he slides down in his chair, annoyance plastered all over his face. “The fuck are we gonna do for three hours?”

Again, you shrug. “Ain’t my problem, I’ll probably sleep, I’m tired enough to on this shitty cot anyway.”

Gator groans, defeated and bored already. Then, a thought crosses his mind that he has no business bringing up, especially not locked in a cell with you, but he’ll take his chances. “Hey, does touchin’ yourself still help with cramps?”

You pop an eye open to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

Blushing, he tries explaining, “Y- yeah, remember how I used to help ya’ with that sometimes?” He’s being polite, because it was every time you had your period. “Does it still work?”

“… Maybe, why?”

He clears his throat before going for it, “I can help… if ya’ want. Least I can do for throwin’ you into this mess.”

“Gator … I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You ignore how your stomach flips at his suggestion, missing how his fingers felt on your skin. “I can just do it myself if I really need anyway.” As your sentence ends, you whimper in pain; most of it had faded off, but you’re still getting flashes of cramps every so often.

“Seems like you need it.”

Narrowing your eyes, you sit up, hissing in pain as you put your back against the wall while your feet kick off the side of the cot. “Doubt you know how to get me off anymore.”

Gator shifts the chair closer to you, spreading your legs to sit between them, hands on your thighs. “That a challenge?”

“Sure is.” You try holding a smug face, but it wavers as his hands travel upward, wasting no time to unbutton your jeans.

“You cool with this?” Gator asks, hand hovering over your underwear, eyes locked with yours. You nod, eyes dark and hooded with lust and a desire to forget about these fucking cramps for even a moment, breathing out a soft “uh-huh”.

Keeping his touch over the fabric, Gator gently rubs your sensitive nub, tugging a breathy whine out of you as your head tilts back, resting against the wall. Your hips twitch forward, pushing your core into his hand, earning a smirk from him. “There y’go, sweetheart. Gonna take good care of ya’.” It’s not long before you’re starting to shake and tense up, climax just within your grasp.

A sound of metal clinking together echoes out from the concrete floor, breaking the focus for both of you. You look down and see another set of keys that fell out of one of Gator’s pockets, then slowly look back at him. Gator’s jaw falls, embarrassed he didn’t even realize they were with him.

“Oh my god….” You’re shocked, but at least he found them now, rather than three hours from now. Still, you’re suspicious. “Did you pretend we were locked in?”

“No! No, I— I thought I lost those last month,” Gator sheepishly admits. “I swear none of this was on purpose. We can stop if you want. I’ll take ya’ home and handle the charges. We don’t gotta speak ‘bout any of this ever again.” He begins pulling his hand away, but you grip his wrist, holding his large hand against your clothed cunt. The bold action makes him groan lowly, eyes fixated on the scene between the two of you.

“Absolutely not,” You grind against his touch, whining as his fingers begin to move against your clit again. “Not ‘til you finished what you started, Tillman.”

#gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman smut #answered #prompts #tysm dolly for sending these<3

60 notes · View notes

poeticandors · 2 years

Text

Your Touch (Has Me Craving More)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader

Part 5 of the TOUCH series

Summary: It's your birthday and Steve has a few gifts in mind to give you.

WARNINGS: 18+ Content (Minors DNI), sexual language, use of a sex toy, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, cursing

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! But thank you all to those who have waited patiently. I hope you all enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

GIF by @his-name-is-ed

“I can’t believe you’re here working on your birthday,” Robin scoffs, leaning over the counter as you kneel in front of it, stocking up the shelves with snacks and candy.

“It’s fine, not like I had made any plans, anyway,” you shrug, standing up with the empty boxes as you walk to the back room, Robin hot on your trail.

“That’s exactly my point. You should’ve had Steve come in for you. If he was really your best friend, he would’ve done so without hesitation.”

“Steve worked the last four days in a row, and closed three of them, I figured he needed a break.”

The truth was, you did think about calling Steve and asking him to take your shift. The only plans you had to celebrate your birthday was dinner with your family, and then you were going to spend the rest of your night with Steve. He mentioned that he had a gift for you, and it would have seemed fine, except that Steve was very ominous about the gift, and asked that you go to his house again so that he could give it to you.

So, rather than switch shifts, you decided that work would help take over your mind and you wouldn’t be focused on the secret gift that Steve had for you. Except, it made you even more distracted. You weren’t sure if Steve got you an actual gift, or if he was hinting at a different type of gift. One that perhaps involved the both of you naked with your bodies pressed against one another as your lips traced every inch of open skin of his.

You weren’t sure what was going on with you. It was as if Steve had taken over your mind completely– you thought of him constantly over the last few days. The image of him touching and kissing your body was etched into your mind, and the sounds he made when he came all over your hand played on a loop. You wanted to feel and hear more of him– you wouldn’t be truly satisfied until you could actually feel him inside of you.

“Hello? Are you even listening to me?” Robin waves her hand in front of you as you come to.

“Oh– sorry, yes,” you feel the goosebumps trail up your arms as you turn your focus back to Robin. This was slowly starting to become an issue. It was one thing to think about Steve fucking you in the privacy of your bedroom, but now you were thinking about him at work.

“You weren’t, but I’ll ask again. Are you and Steve doing anything for your birthday?”

Almost dropping the box you were carrying, you quickly look over at Robin. “What– me and Steve?”

She knows, you panic internally. Oh, fuck, she knows about us.

“Well, yeah? Don’t you guys normally do something for your birthdays? Like have a movie night or something?”

“Oh… right, yeah,” you clear your throat, setting the empty boxes down to be tossed out later. “He mentioned having a present for me at his house later. I was going to go see him after dinner with my family.”

“I hope he got you something that doesn’t suck.”

Laughing softly, you walk back to the front of the store with Robin. Luckily, since it was the middle of the day, there weren’t any customers at the moment so you typically spent time like this gossiping with Robin.

“I’m sure I’ll like whatever he gets me.”

“Okay, okay. In all seriousness though,” Robin sits on the counter. “When are you going to admit that you like him?”

You freeze, glancing over at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, come on,” she scoffs, leaning forward. “Everyone knows you guys have a thing for each other. It’s like, completely obvious.”

“Robin, Steve and I are just friends.”

“No, Steve and I are just friends. Steve and Nancy are just friends. But you and Steve definitely have something different going on. How can you not see that?”

“I– because there isn’t anything going on. We’ve always been friends—“

“I thought you guys stopped talking for a bit? When he was all ‘oh, look at me. I’m King Steve, look at how wonderful my hair is, I can get with any girl I want’,” she mocks, flicking her hair back in what was supposed to be an imitation of Steve.

“Okay, even still. I thought of him as my friend and nothing has changed from before to now even with that small period of time.”

“Except for the way you guys look at each other, and how you guys are always together. Even when you’re not together, you are always talking about one another. Especially the last few days. It’s like all you’ve done is spend time with one another.”

You scoff lightly, placing a hand on your hip. “I— no we haven’t. We’ve seen you too—“

“Oh, no. Don’t you even dare,” she chuckles, jumping off the counter. “You guys have literally only seen me at work.”

“Robin, there is nothing going on between me and Steve. Seriously,” you shake your head.

Before Robin could argue, a group of young pre-teen girls walk inside, and you let out a breath of relief at the interruption. The girls begin talking and giggling loudly, debating on which movie to choose before one finally decides to walk over towards you and Robin.

“I have to rewind some tapes. You take care of this.” You quickly walk off before Robin can say anything else, heading straight towards the back room where a tub of returned VHS tapes sits untouched.

It was a silly thing for Robin to say, wasn’t it? How could she think that there was something going on between you and Steve like that? Sure… you both agreed to be friends with benefits and he has been with you intimately the last few days, but that didn’t mean that you were catching romantic feelings for him, right? It’s not like he was constantly on your mind or that you were eager to see him more and more each passing day.

Except… that he was always on your mind and you did look forward to seeing him each day– it was like your heart would burst the moment you laid eyes on him when he walked in the room. Steve was the only person you could think of to help get you off when you masturbated to the image of him touching and kissing you. Steve could do anything, the smallest thing, and you would find yourself smiling or laughing no matter what.

Of course, you had always wondered what it would be like to date Steve. You wondered if he would look at you the way he did when he was with all the other girls he dated when you were in high school. Would he have shown you off in the same way? How often would he have taken you out on dates?

Sighing, you take the first tape and get to work on rewinding it. You were being ridiculous, fantasizing about that. It wasn’t like it would happen anyways or that Steve had feelings for you. He was your best friend, after all. He only agreed to sleep with you so that you could explore your sexuality and not be a virgin anymore. There weren’t supposed to be any romantic feelings at all during this.

So why were you starting to catch feelings for him?

++++++++++

You walk up to Steve’s house, looking around to see just his car in the driveway. As you stand in front of the door, you can’t help but hesitate to knock. What gift could he have possibly gotten you that you had to wait all day for? That wasn’t the only reason you didn’t knock, however. Your conversation with Robin stayed in your head the rest of the day until your shift, even through the dinner with your family. You kept trying to convince yourself that all of the constant thoughts about Steve were only because you two have become closer more intimately and that it had nothing to do with romantic feelings.

But when Steve opened up the door, everything that was running through your mind right now was put on hold. Steve stood with his hands on his waist, his usual grin plastered on his face. You liked the way he smiled at you— it was almost as if the smile was only reserved for you.

“There’s the birthday girl,” he steps forward, enveloping you in his arms. The scent of his cologne overtook your sense of smell, and you found yourself wishing he would keep his arms around you. “Happy birthday, babe.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you smile, pulling back before following him inside.

“Okay, so… I did get you a present,” he states as you both walk up to his room. “But… it’s not something you should probably show anyone else. Also, if you don't want it, I totally understand. I can get you something else but… I just want you to at least see it first.”

Confused, you stay silent as you follow him into his room. You see a box tied up with a bow sitting on his bed, and look over at him. Steve motions to it, stuffing his hands in his pockets before you walk towards his bed. Opening the box, you almost drop it to the ground at the sight of the vibrator surrounded by tissue paper. Your face feels hot all of a sudden, and you quickly set the box on his bed.

“I- uh… Steve?” You look over at him as he steps towards you.

“Okay, I knew you would freak out a bit. But… I mean, it isn’t that intimidating, right?” he shrugs, before reaching into the box and grabbing it.

Obviously you had never used a vibrator, or any other type of sex toy for the matter. So, to you, the vibrator was definitely intimidating. Why Steve bought this for you, you weren’t sure. Steve weighs the vibrator in his hand, and then looks over at you.

“What do you think, sweetheart?”

“I… it’s a thoughtful gift. But, why did you pick a vibrator to give me?”

“I thought that maybe you would want to try a different way of getting yourself off,” he answers nonchalantly, as if it was totally obvious. “This right here will do the trick and make you feel really good.”

There he goes again. As if you weren’t already trying to push down that fuzzy feeling in your chest, Steve has to go and say something like that and cause the feeling to rise once more. All Steve has been wanting to do for you is help you throughout this newfound experience for you. As he has said time and time again, he just wants you to feel good and find ways to explore yourself and your body.

Steve hands the vibrator out to you and you look down at it. It wasn’t too big or heavy, and seemed like the most convenient size to you. You could easily find a place to keep it hidden until you finally moved out of your parent’s house like you had been planning.

“What do you think, babe?”

“Thank you for this,” you smile lightly. “Really, I appreciate the gift. I’m excited to try it.”

Steve nods, and the look on his face tells you that he is relieved and pleased that you didn’t turn down the gift. There’s another look in his eye that you can’t quite place, though you’re sure he has something to say on the matter.

“So…”

“So what?”

“Are you going to try it?”

“What- right now?” You chuckle, bemused. “...You’re not serious, are you?”

“Why not? Now is honestly the perfect time to try it out. That way, you can decide if you truly like it or not.”

Holy shit, Steve really was being serious. You don’t know why this was still surprising to you– you literally saw Steve naked a few days ago and gave him a hand job. Not to mention, he also saw you naked as well. So why were you being so shy again?

“You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable,” Steve steps forward, pulling you from your thoughts. “I just thought–”

“Okay. I’ll try it now.”

Steve slowly smiles as his eyes shine. “Yeah? You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure. I want to try it now. Here, with you,” you pause. “I mean… not with you, unless you do want to help me with it. Like teach me how to use it.”

It was too late to turn back now. You hoped that you didn’t sound too eager, but at this point you had no reason to be shy with Steve anymore. Plus… the thought of him helping you with using a sex toy made your chest warm. Except, you didn’t want it to seem like he had to help you, despite everything he has been saying.

“But I don’t expect you–”

“You kidding me?” Steve quickly interjects. “Of course I’ll help you. I mean- I made sure it was ready to go for you, after all.”

You want to laugh out how eager Steve suddenly gets, as if he was waiting for you to offer that the moment you opened the gift. He steps towards you, taking the toy, and setting it back on his bed. Exhaling softly, you gaze at Steve, taking in the closeness of him as you feel him place his hand on your hip.

“Can I help you get ready?” He asks, his eyes flicking to your mouth. You glance at his lips as well, taking in the sight of how pink and kissable they looked. All you wanted in that moment was to feel his lips on yours, so you answered him with a kiss.

Steve pulls you closer to him, both hands now on your waist as you press yourself against him. After your first kiss with Steve, you couldn’t stop thinking about how good just doing that had felt. It was so right, and you knew the other guys before that you had kissed could never compare. You grip Steve’s collar, before you feel him walk you back towards his bed, and he pulls back as his fingers graze lower and lower towards the hem of your dress.

“Is this okay?” He breathes out against your mouth. “Can I—“

“Yes,” you pull him back to you, quickly kissing him again.

He wastes no time in returning the kiss, and only moves away to lift your dress up over your head. Steve consumed all of your senses in this moment– his scent was all around you, the taste of him was on your lips, and you relished in the sound of the soft moan he let out as you pressed yourself against him. Your hands lie flat on his chest before you move them down to tug at the bottom of his shirt, and he shakes his head as he breaks the kiss.

“Steve–”

“This is about you, remember?” He gently pushes you back to lie on the mattress.

Steve crawls over you, kissing up along your skin as he makes his way up to your neck. A shiver travels all the way down between your legs as his lips graze against your jaw, and you feel one of his hands come up, just brushing along the side of your breast before it shifts over. He presses his lips to yours once more before he pulls back.

Steve grabs at the waistband of your underwear and begins tugging them off of you and fuck, you don’t know why you’re suddenly feeling shy. It wasn’t as if Steve hadn’t seen you naked already. You open your eyes, watching as he reaches over for the vibrator, and holds it to you.

“I–”

“There are a few settings with this one: a slow, medium, fast, and pulsating vibrations,” he places it in your hand with his moving to cover yours. “I would suggest starting off with the slow one, but that’s totally up to you.”

He kisses you, slow and deep as you grip the toy, and suddenly feel the steady vibrations in your hand. It didn’t seem too much, you felt that you could handle it, and the anticipation was getting the better of you. You could feel how wet you were between your legs already, that was the effect Steve had over you.

Steve shifts to move next to you as you sit up against the pillows slightly, leaning over to kiss your jaw down to your neck as he keeps his hand over yours as you grip the toy. He gently helps you ease it down to your legs, brushing it over your thigh as you breathe shakily.

“You wanna keep going?” Steve murmurs against your skin, his breath hot.

You nod in response, spreading your legs open a little more as Steve moves the toy between your legs. The vibrations tickle against the inside of your thigh as he inches closer and closer to the spot craving to be touched the most. Steve claims your mouth with his once more just before the vibrator presses against your clit.

Gasping against Steve’s mouth, you jump slightly at the feeling of the new sensation. You weren’t sure what to do other than let the toy do the work, but Steve on the other hand continued kissing along your body, keeping his hand over yours to ensure the toy stays in place. Steve trails his kisses up along your neck, and you can’t help the moan that slips out both from him kissing that sweet spot as well as the toy between your legs, bringing a wonderful new feeling.

“How’s that?” He whispers, pulling back to look down at you, his brown eyes blown.

“Good… it feels so good.”

“Want me to turn it up? Or do you want to keep it at the same–”

“More. I want more, Steve,” you all but whine, before pulling him back down to kiss you.

You feel Steve smirk against your lips before there is a small click, and the vibrations quicken between your legs. Your muscles tense, but you keep the toy in place, feeling yourself becoming wetter. Why haven't you gotten one of these toys before now? The pleasure it was bringing you was intoxicating.

But was it the toy, or was it the fact that Steve was here kissing, touching, and helping you bring yourself closer and closer to your impending orgasm? Because you wanted more of Steve– you wanted his lips on every inch of your skin and you wanted his hands touching and squeezing every part of your body.

Movement from Steve stirs you from your thoughts, and you open your eyes to see Steve moving lower and lower down the bed, where he settles to get a direct view of your pussy.

“Steve–”

“I just want to help you out a little more, sweetheart,” he brings one of your legs over his shoulder, putting you both in a more intimate position. Steve grabs your hand that grips the toy and begins guiding it all around your pussy, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

Moaning loudly, you cover your mouth with your free hand as Steve looks up at you.

“Don’t stop making those pretty noises on my account, beautiful. Let me hear you.”

Steve must’ve changed the setting to the highest it could go to because before you knew it, you were feeling the vibrations curl your toes. You barely register Steve’s soft lips brushing the inside of your thigh and you feel your back begin to arch off the mattress.

“Fuck! Oh my god—“

“That’s it, baby. Fuck— do you realize how hot you look right now? Jesus… I’m so fucking hard just watching you.”

Listening to the words coming out of Steve’s mouth has more cries of pleasure coming out of yours and before you know it, your orgasm hits you hard. You grip the sheet and Steve pushes your legs apart to keep them from squeezing around the toy, feeling his eyes on your exposed pussy.

The toy gets pulled away and you feel your body fall slack against the mattress, exhaustion from the toll of the orgasm washing over you. As you lie there trying to compose yourself, Steve once again begins kissing the inside of your thigh, making his way up. It dawns on you where he inches closer and closer to, and you look down at him.

“Steve, what—“

“I just want to try something with you,” his warm breath fans against your skin. “I think you might like it.”

He kisses much closer to your cunt, and you breathe shakily. Steve wants to go down on you. He watched you come from the vibrator as he held it with you, and now he wants to eat you out. Steve looks up at you, his eyes full of hunger and want that sends your mind spiraling. Has he ever looked at anyone else like that, you wonder.

“If you want me to stop–”

“Don’t. Don’t stop.”

Steve smirks, before he surges up and kisses you deeply. Grabbing his face, you return the eagerness of the kiss as you pull him over you. He pulls away only to begin trailing soft kisses along your jaw, moving to your neck down towards your chest. Your bra was still on, so Steve takes it upon himself to reach behind you to unclasp it before he throws it to the ground with the rest of your clothes. He takes one of your breasts in his hand, while the other he begins to kiss tenderly, flicking his tongue over your nipple.

You can’t think of a better feeling than Steve’s body pressed against yours and his hands and mouth caressing you. He gives attention to both of your breasts, moving over to kiss the other while switching over to squeeze the former. Steve begins trailing kisses down the middle of your torso until he settles back between your legs.

He pushes your legs apart, then stares down at your pussy like it’s the best gift he’s received. His silence unnerves you for a moment, but it washes away the moment he licks his lips before delving in.

“Ohhh, fuck,” your mouth falls open as your head tilts back. Steve circles his tongue around your cunt slowly, teasingly as his fingers press into your thighs.

“Holy shit, babe,” Steve pulls away, only to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “You taste so fucking sweet.”

Steve moves his mouth back over you, his tongue flat as he licks up your entire pussy. Steve’s mouth feels so fucking good— you think it feels even better than the toy. He moves his tongue expertly, lightly kissing and sucking everywhere he can.

You roll your hips against his mouth as he hums, and you look down at him only to find that he is watching you closely. Your eyes lock for a moment, the gesture so intimate it has your heart racing. What was going on in his mind right now? Was he as turned on as you were at the moment?

His tongue rolls against your clit as you shiver, moaning as you let your head fall back once more. Steve’s hand squeezes your thigh, and you feel it move towards your center as he slowly pushes a finger inside of you. Gripping the sheets, you take in the pleasure of both his finger and mouth as soft cries release from you. Steve focuses entirely on your clit, sucking and licking at it while his finger works inside you before he adds a second one.

“Fuck, Steve… don’t stop,” you mewl as he begins curling his fingers.

“That good, huh?” He chuckles deeply, teasingly as he pulls back slightly, still pumping his fingers as you nod. Steve brings his mouth back to your clit, continuing the movements of his tongue from before as you bask in the pleasure again.

Your arousal was at an all time high, and you knew that Steve was close to bringing you to your second orgasm. It starts to build up, slowly pooling inside you as Steve moves his fingers and licks at you. He moves his tongue and fingers just right, and you find yourself reaching down to gather a fistful of his hair.

Steve moans against you, moving closer as he eagerly works his mouth over your clit. You pull tighter as you lose yourself to Steve’s touch, rolling your hips for more of that amazing sensation.

“Oh, fuck– Steve, I’m gonna–”

“Go on, beautiful. Come all over my mouth,” he murmurs against you, curling his fingers to hit that spot you’ve been craving since he started.

With the wonderful rhythm of Steve’s fingers, his tongue, and the movement of your hips all meeting together at once, you begin to feel the music rattle along your spine as your orgasm releases. A symphony of moans and cries of Steve’s name over and over again fill the room as your back arches up off the mattress. When it all comes to an end, you find yourself exhausted as you fall back against the bed, your chest rising and falling as you pant.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” Steve slowly pulls his fingers back, and gives one last lick to your sensitive pussy, a jolt shooting through you.

“Sorry, just couldn’t resist,” he chuckles deeply, shifting on the bed.

You look up at him, your vision coming together as Steve becomes clear. You take in the sight of him, his hair a mess from you grabbing onto it, his cheeks slightly pink, and the shine on his lips from your wetness. His gaze was soft as he looked down at you with such a fondness that caused the fluttering in your chest to quicken.

He was beautiful.

“Are you doing okay, honey?” He asks, pulling you back from your stray thoughts as you blink.

“Yeah– yep,” you nod, quickly looking away. “Sorry, I'm still trying to settle myself I guess.”

It soon dawns on you that you were the only one not wearing clothes, and you bring your arms over your chest to cover yourself as best you could. Steve takes notice, and shifts so he can bring the blanket over you.

“Thanks,” you smile slightly, pulling the blanket up to your chest as Steve sits against his head board.

“How do you feel?” He asks, his arm brushing against yours. You wish that you could feel his touch again like before– his hands roaming and squeezing along your body while his lips brushed against your skin.

“Good– great. I feel amazing,” you look over at him. “I don’t know why, but I feel really exhausted from that.”

“Yeah, well, I did a pretty good job, didn’t I?” He grins, laughing when you take his spare pillow and smack him with it.

“I’m pretty sure the vibrator made me come harder than you,” you tease. Though, it was a lie.

Steve looks at you like he knows it’s a lie, too. He gives a smug look as he reaches over to grab the vibrator and set it on his bedside table before settling next to you. The two of you sit in a comfortable, familiar silence– one that didn’t make you feel awkward about feeling naked sitting next to your best friend.

The best friend who just helped you come from both a vibrator and his mouth.

Glancing down, you see the slight bulge pressing against his jeans. “...Do you want me to–”

“No, no. You don’t have to do anything,” he waves you off. “It’s your day today, sweetheart.”

You nod, slightly disappointed at the comment. While it was nice of Steve, you wanted him to feel good as well. Even if you didn’t know much yet, you were willing to try.

“Do you want to stay?” He asks, looking down at you.

“Oh, um… should I?”

“Why not? You’ve stayed the night before plenty of times.” He shrugs. “Plus, it’s late and I don’t want you driving at this time of night. What kind of gentleman would I be if I just let you drive off this late?”

You smile slightly because you knew he was right. You don’t even know why you asked that, you knew Steve was more than comfortable with you staying with him overnight. But this felt different. You never wanted to be around Steve as much as you have as of late. Sure, you did enjoy his company, but now… this was different. You looked forward to spending your time with him at work and outside of work. You longed for him to glance at you when he wasn’t looking, and you ached to be touched by him.

Maybe Robin was right… Maybe there was something between you and Steve.

But did Steve feel the same way? What if you decided to admit how you felt about him and he didn’t feel the same? You couldn’t bear the humiliation and losing your best friend all in one moment.

“So? Are you going to stay? I even have some of your clothes left over still,” he grins, and you’re sure it’s from the memory of the last time you slept in his bed next to him.

Pondering for a moment, you finally cave and nod as Steve gets out of his bed and walks towards his dresser. He takes his shirt off as well, tossing it to his laundry bin as you stare at the muscles of his back, shoulders, and arms. You always thought Steve looked fit, but seeing him like this, just the two of you alone and in his room…

“Here you go. They’re clean, don’t worry,” Steve walks back, holding the clothes back to you.

“Thanks.”

You take the clothes from him as you sit up and the blanket falls from your chest. Your eyes meet Steve’s, and for a moment neither of you say anything. Steve’s eyes slowly trail down to your breasts, staring for a moment and you think he is going to say something before he clears his throat, and looks away.

Disappointed, you slowly pull your shirt and shorts on while Steve pushes his pants off. Once you get settled you move over to let Steve climb in after he turns his light off, lifting the blanket over you both. The two of you lie down, facing one another as you stare quietly. Steve leaves a comfortable space in between you both as he always does, but something deep inside of you wishes he would fill that space by moving closer to you.

“Comfortable?” He asks. The moonlight shining through the slits in his blinds helps you get a glimpse of the soft look on his face as he stares at you. You want to lean over and kiss him, but instead stay in place.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you pull the blanket up under your chin.

“Good,” Steve pauses, as if to say something more, and you hope it’s something along the lines of him asking to move closer to you because you were craving his touch once more.

But he doesn’t.

“Night, babe. Happy birthday again.”

“...Night, Steve. Thank you for your gifts.”

He chuckles softly, before he shifts under the blanket and after a moment you hear his breathing settle in a soft pattern. So many thoughts and images of Steve from earlier flood your mind that you find it hard to sleep at first. Rolling over, you hug Steve’s pillow and take in his scent, and feel yourself beginning to settle in a deep sleep that was sure to be filled with dreams of the two of you.

++++++++++

Taglist: @gabbcabbb @xsammijoanneex @echothy @fujiihime @fangirlcrazy13 @skylermoyer @mochminnie @1950schick @smelly-sock @augustlikesdeath @kaliesworld96 @ami01x @comedic-leftover @multi-fandomgirlie @hippzella @safinsunx @didiiscool11 @shine-dont-shadow @mackenzmeme @melonmochi @danthegirl99 @loveydove99 @damthatamazinggreensandwich @br3ak1ngmyh3artbaby @ejhpmarvelsimp @kaqua @shidoumari-chan @xguardgirlx @quartzneyy @wh0re4harrington @wittlewowa @aynsleywalker @novacrystalli @thatgirlstrawberry @ravenclawbiologist-blog @enjoy-the-destruction @bitchyseawitch @rfpoststs @user240721 @angelulls @variant-lokitty @xtarkid @selfdeprecatingnerd @unlostandunaware @ourautumn86 @m-rae23

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x f!reafer #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x f!reader smut #steve harrington gif #stranger things fic #stranger things #joe keery #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine

772 notes · View notes

apocalypse-shuffle · 1 year

Text

light work w/ JASON•T & DICK•G

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

this is part of the “long overdue” series

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Jason follows a ways behind Nightwing in silence right after they’ve flung themselves over the first building.

Pretense of playful riffing over and done with there’s just…nothing.

Nothing to talk about - or too much to pack into their relatively short journey from The Hill to the cave - and nothing to do but focus.

He swallows down the stiffness in his throat when the thought that a different less tainted less damaged him and Nightwing would’ve made a game out of this. Joked with each other. Laughed.

The reflection he catches of himself in the window of a yellow cape catching the air makes him cut that whole string of thinking.

Jason lands on paved stone in silence and watches Dick get another swing in before activating his coms. The separate unit could only be used sparingly (too easy to attach onto the frequency) but Jason wouldn’t need it to work that long.

He rolls his left ankle, testing the stiffness while waiting for his contact to pick up. It’s mild at best. He’s sure he wouldn’t have even noticed it until he was in his apartment if he hadn’t dropped so specifically as to not catch Nightwing’s attention.

Jason’s just gotten on the line with one of “his people”, a runner who he only bothered to remember the name of because they’d stay useful, when Nightwing finally catches on that it’s only one grapple he’s hearing.

The man retracts his grapple and does a series of flips to land on a roof four buildings away. Jason absentmindedly rolls his eyes while instructing Mensa on what cache to slip into. He’ll have to burn that safe house but he needed out of the area anyway. The clock tower was gone but that didn’t negate the fact that people now thought of The Hill as implicitly bat territory.

He’s instructing where he wants Mensa to leave his equipment when Nightwing finally decides to come over to him despite the way Jason cuts a hand through the air to wave him off.

“Bats, I swear,” he grunts. He tests his ankle one more time to get rid of the crink and watches Nightwing run over.

“What?”

He has enough time to turn his head and prattle off: “Nothing. Just do what I said.”

The vigilante lands in front of him nearer the edge of the roof from Jason’s position in the middle as the call disconnects.

“But you didn’t say anything?”

The other’s voice lilts upward at the end and Jason schools his face, letting himself scoff. He runs his hand through his bangs to swipe the com unit out as he does so.

“Course I didn’t, I couldn’t choose just one.”

Nightwing lets his head tilt, still lost but not nearly as much as he’s letting on. Jason answers his unspoken question anyway.

“They’re not enough words in the English lexicon to describe how annoying you are, Dickhead. I got distracted.”

He doesn’t wait for whatever playact his reaction will be, throwing himself off the building and shooting his line in a slightly altered direction.

Of course Nightwing follows him but it’s not like Jason can’t work around his tag along.

He doesn’t start talking to him again but the man’s gaze setting his back on fire feels even more analytical than his words would have.

Jason grumbles to himself about it but is otherwise perfectly content to let the problem be one of the future. Preferably not his future, but when has Jason ever gotten what he wants?

Jason would never let the other know, but the face he makes when Jason drops down to the street a few blocks later and there’s conveniently a helmet sitting all snug for him on a bus bench is kind of worth the harassment.

He has to tamp down with his jaw until he slips the apparatus on so he won’t laugh right in his face. The helmet’s speaker systems keep his mirth strictly for Jason’s ears only.

His shaking probably gives him away regardless, but he covers it up by letting Nightwing come to his own conclusion that Jason is only taunting him.

And his conclusion’s not wrong per say but - you know? - Jason’s not going to tell him that.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! This takes place in between part one and part two before the guys get to the Cave.

I’ma be honest with y’all I don’t know if the clock tower was located in The Hill during War Games but I do know that I’m tired of looking for the answer. It doesn’t matter anyway I can do whatever the fuck I want.

Is this a little more than 500 words? Yes. But I made the rules and as such I can break them.

Edit: edited this bitch and now it’s 700+ words ????? (pretend it’s 500 tho)

also leave a comment I like them, I just won’t respond cause this is a side blog

175 notes · View notes

tbzhours · 1 year

Text

coffee and you

sunwoo x you, college au, strangers/friends to lovers au, fluff

[summary] after meeting sunwoo, all you could think of was him (and coffee) [words] 1.7k

You were in your car, your thumbs tapping Eric a million texts of when he’ll arrive at the parking lot where you both decided to meet to watch a play. You both were going to go together in one car to save gas but he suddenly wanted to bring a friend along. It would have been okay if Eric had told you beforehand and not right when you were in the middle of getting ready for it.

There were a few reasons why you were excited to see the play. One was that one of your friends, Juyeon, will be acting in it. Another was that Eric will be treating you out for dinner afterwards (seriously, who doesn’t want free food from your best friend?). You hoped that meeting that tag-a-long friend of Eric’s won’t ruin this for you.

But then somehow, that friend just ticked you off when you found Eric’s car being parked a few cars in front of you before you set your phone away and headed their way.

“Why did you drag me along? Don’t you know I already have plans?” Sunwoo complained, pushing his hands into his pockets. Eric made him wear a nice fancy blazer and all Eric could say was how hot he looked on the way there. Sunwoo snickered with a small glare before Eric punched his shoulders lightly.

“Come on! It’s called supporting your friends. Let’s watch Juyeon forget his lines.” Eric laughed, his breath making a smoke of air as he turned forward. That was when he finally saw you walking toward them. “Hey!” He waved at you and you stopped right in front of him, your arms crossed. “Ready to see Juyeon blink on stage?”

“If that’ll make up the one bar of gas on my car.” You snapped your lips at him and turned around so you all could start walking there together before it starts. “You’re paying for dinner tonight so.”

“Whatever you say, my dear.” Eric teased, leaning forward to see your face. “Anyway, this is Sunwoo, the one I keep blabbering about today and this is Y/N, my friend who I met during my first year.”

“Nice to meet you.” Sunwoo smiled. He looked different from when you saw him getting out of Eric’s car. He seemed a bit calmer than that jolly look when he got out of Eric’s car. You reached over a fist to him and got a confused look back from him.

“Nice to meet you too.” You smiled back, waiting for him to respond.

Eric whispered to Sunwoo, “It’s their way of ‘shaking hands’ when meeting someone new. Don’t worry, they don’t bite. Just go for it.”

Sunwoo’s lips beamed after pounding with your fist. In your mind, you wondered why you’ve never heard of this “Sunwoo” friend of Eric’s. Did they just meet recently? You shrugged that thought away and walked with them into the building with the fire inside of you finally burning off.

The next morning came as you remembered learning more about Sunwoo from the dinner treat with Eric. Sunwoo actually tagged along and you learned about how the two met, which was when they joined a soccer club around the same time a few weeks ago. Eric wanted to show that he was the best at soccer when Sunwoo beat him in a quick match. You laughed about the funny encounter because Eric had never mentioned about him. Now you wondered how Sunwoo actually looks like when he’s playing. Probably amazing.

Your mind was suddenly distracted by a text from Eric, which said: That makes up the dinner I gave you. Thanks :^)

You didn’t get what he meant until you reached into your kitchen cabinet to find all of the instant coffee gone. You cursed loudly in your little apartment, knowing Eric had sneaked in and stole the last coffee bag of yours.

That means you would have to wait in the neverending line at the coffee shop before heading to class, which was the worst. You went anyway if it would keep you up in your boring lecture class. You were still cursing under your breath when you heard someone calling your name. You met a familiar pair of eyes before you realized it’s Sunwoo.

“Can I get you some coffee?” Sunwoo asked when he saw you waiting in line close behind him. He laughed a little, seeing your irritated face.

“You don’t have to.” You shook your head, hoping he wouldn't but he shrugged.

“I want to, and you look like you’re in a rush.” He flashed a smile and you knew you couldn’t refuse.

You got out of line and waited with him at the pick-up counter. You looked up at him from the side and asked, “Where are you heading to?”

“Class. Might skip it though.” Sunwoo smirked.

“Wow, I can’t believe I just met another Eric.” You shook your head, lips reflecting us. He’s the definition of a true college student.

“You can’t compare me to him. I’m a much better student than he is.”

“For example?” You tilted your head before you both heard his name being called to pick your orders. He walked over, taking both cups before handing yours to you. You both started heading out of the coffee shop and he looked at you with confidence.

“Buying you coffee.”

You were shocked and nodded nonchalantly. A good student buys their friends coffee when they need it. You found your eyes back at him where his lips were shaped like the crescent of the moon.

“You treat next time?” Sunwoo’s voice rose and you smiled in a yes.

You and Sunwoo exchanged phone numbers before you headed to your class. You suddenly felt excited to text him as you headed to the library to study, your usual time before resting for the night.

You sat down at your usual spot and took out your phone to send Sunwoo a text but you heard him whispering your name in front of you. Your eyes widened as you gasped. You covered your lips and whispered loudly, “I was just going to text you!”

“Really?” Sunwoo chuckled softly. How odd to find him here all of a sudden you wondered but you didn’t let that stop you from getting your things out to study.

In honesty, you would just study quietly by yourself if you were around people you didn’t know but with Sunwoo, you somehow knew you were going to get distracted despite just knowing him yesterday.

“What are you studying for?” He asked, noticing you both using the same textbook.

“Oh, it’s one of my lecture classes about globalizing cities. I haven't fallen asleep in that class yet.” You smirked sarcastically, popping the lid of your pen off.

“No way. You wouldn’t believe this but I’m taking the same class.” Sunwoo shook his head, smiling. He was surprised that he did not even see you on the first day of lecture AKA the only day he would go other than the exam days. Besides, attendance wasn’t going to be part of the grade.

“What?! You can’t be serious?” Your eyes widened again as Sunwoo tried to hold in his quiet giggles, hoping it wouldn’t end up getting you both kicked out of the library.

The next thing you know, you found yourself thinking about him a lot. It became normal for you to be sneaking laughs at your phone with Sunwoo blasting it with messages. He stocked up your instant coffee bags and started to study with you at the same spot in that library after learning about him skipping that one class. He began to send good morning texts, so early in the morning that you felt something was up.

You: why don’t we use this time to study together instead?

Sunwoo: why?

You: idk i find it peaceful to have someone who understands the science of time

Sunwoo: the science of time?

You: yeah… you up for another play tonight? i wanted to ask Eric bc he decided to ditch me for some party

Sunwoo: this is a date?

You: if you want call it that way

Sunwoo: i’ll be at your place at 6pm then :)

You hated yourself with your play of words. You definitely have feelings for him and you knew you just had to tell him soon.

You and Sunwoo were walking hand-in-hand, admiring how spacious your campus looked under the beautiful night lights with coffee in your other hands. Your cheeks turned red as you thought about the enjoyable time you both spent discussing the play on the way back to your place with an unplanned stop at the coffee shop. It was perfect for this cool weather; even in silence at the moment, you loved how you both found it comfortable to only hear your unspoken breaths.

“Well, here we are.” Sunwoo said when you both reached the front door of your apartment building.

“Thanks for coming tonight.” You smiled, your lips still stained in red.

“My pleasure.” He smiled back, not wanting to let go of your hands just yet. “Did you enjoy tonight?” “I should be asking you that.” You laughed, knowing that you were the one who invited him. In fact, you thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to invite him to your apartment for the night. Perhaps for a movie or even a late night dinner because you’re in love with this feeling that you were feeling for him right now. “Did you enjoy tonight?”

“A lot. It was great, so great that I want to ask you something.” Sunwoo held onto your hand tighter before he continued, “Do you want to go out with me?”

“I do want to go out with you, since a while ago.” You confessed, your rosy cheeks blistered in the cold air.

“Since when?”

“When you got me coffee.”

“Which one? I think there’s too much.” Sunwoo’s tiny laugh came out as he grinned at your playful smile.

“I’ll tell you if you kiss me.”

Your words called the sirens and without hesitation, Sunwoo pulled you close by the hand, his lips clashing onto yours as if it was meaning to for a long time. The taste of his vanilla latte roamed against your lips as he left you breathless, your grip on his arm showed that you were responding to it perfectly.

When Sunwoo pulled back and melted in your eyes, there was a thought in your mind that maybe Eric’s text that one morning meant something else.

#sunwoo #the boyz #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #kpop imagines #college au #friends to lovers au #strangers to lovers au #fluff #i'm working on something... hehe #wish me luck with writing~

177 notes · View notes

askdeoxys · 9 months

Text

“I’ll be honest with ya, Deo: I don’t care. Hey! Don’t blame me though! I’m just tired of hearing about it. I mean, no offense, but we get it,” Kujo stated pointedly, a wry yet somehow apologetic smile on his face. It was a statement that instantly killed the conversation at the table which the Hoopa took note of. “..What? All three of us are thinking it! Don’t give me that look..,” he would add with an awkward rubbing of his neck- a guilt beginning to creep up on him.

“...” Deo fell silent. He wasn’t necessarily angry because Kujo simply said what Deo had already thought, but he still knew not how to respond. “My bad. We can move on.” No longer with the desire to gamble, Deo threw his cards into the middle of the table to allow for his two acquaintances to continue without him.

Dioxys looked between the two, unsure of how to broach the tension in the air. For now, he chose to lay his cards on the table and pour the three another round of drinks with his idle psychic touch. He watched the glasses and bottle dance in the air while he mulled over his words, and Kujo would be the one to address the tension in the interim.

“SOooooo.., D’,” the Hoopa started as he looked over at the yellow alien, “In lighter news, Deo and I were talking the other day. Why don’t you say something to Cherri?” He knew the question was extremely pointed, of course, but it would distract the pair with ease. Or, so he thought. Regardless, he grabbed one of the newly poured glasses from the air and shot it back at once.

“You were talking about me, Deo?” Dioxys asked with a cold glare, though his gaze could have burned a hole through his orange acquaintance, “I thought I made it very clear how I detest you talking of me without my knowledge?”

Forced to shunt Kujo’s slight to the back of his mind, Deo shrugged broadly, “But, hear me out. Aren’t you impressed that I can talk about something other than myself?” With desire to deflect in the conversation, Deoxys quickly picked his cards back up as if to resume play, and he’d float one of the glasses closer to him in anticipation for absorption. “Anyways, I heard the deadline has been moved up. Doesn’t that seem kind of.. I don’t know, brash? They’ve barely given you a break, D’.” If there was one thing Deo could distract his mind with, it was work.

However, Dioxys had no interest in approaching that topic. Instead, he chose the lesser of two evils: “There’s nothing to say to Cherri, Kujo,” he replied as straight-forwardly as he could, “We are of two different worlds, and they are an individual who.. -Well, for lack of better phrasing; I am at the bottom of their totem pole.” Already having sensed what the pair might respond with, Dioxys added swiftly, “Socially, at least. Obviously, our work is a different story.”

“Bah!” Kujo slammed his hand of cards on the table with one hand, and with his other hand, he reached over and grabbed Deo’s drink out of the air and shot it back. “You think you know everything, D’, but you don’t know that!”

“I mean, he’s never been wrong before…,” Deo added meekly.

Kujo waved his hand dismissively after he dropped the glass to fall to the ground. Before continuing his rant, he grabbed the half-drank bottle out of the air; “If you had a nickel for everytime you think you’re fallin’ in love..- You don’t even like them that much? Shit, you’re fallin’ in love!” He could not have made a more pointed statement, and it was a statement that would once again cause the table to fall in awkward silence.

“...” Deo sighed. With an idle application of his psionic well, he reconstructed the broken glass from the ground and set it back on the table with an expectation that Kujo would pour him a refill. “..Okay, actually, let’s be honest. Why don’t you say something, D’? What have you got to lose?”

“Friendship,” Dioxys replied without hesitation, “And, to be frank, we have far greater worries we should be focusing on- like the deadline being moved up.” Tired of this path, he decided to choose the other lesser of two evils. “Or, Deo, would you prefer us to tackle your topic?”

“I’m good-”

“GOOD IDEA!” Kujo bellowed with an ignorance of Deo’s expectation to be refilled. “Deo, don’t you think you complain too much? Don’t you think it’s.. -Well, trite? D’ and I get it, Deo. You’re sad. Can we move on?” With an immediate sensing of Dioxys’ anger rising, Kujo quickly continued as if to save himself in this situation, “Okay, I’ll admit, this all sounds really bad. Let me rephrase: you both need to get over yourselves and address your problems because I am honestly real tired of having to babysit the both of y’all.”

“It’s just not that simple,” both Deo and Dioxys responded simultaneously, but Deo would continue to say for himself; “No one can help me but me, and I don’t want to help me.”

Meanwhile, Dioxys would add his own statement right after Deo’s; “I would rather wallow in my pitiful, human tribulations than have someone I care about sour their perception of me. They don’t ever need to know, and I am content with that. All that matters is that we continue on for our goal and succeed.”

Kujo just groaned as he let his slumped posture bring his jaw down to smack onto the table. “What am I going to do with the two of you?”

28 notes · View notes

emberwood-if · 2 years

Note

You know what? Since you already gave us the house's reaction to mc falling for the antagonist, now i want to know how perry would react to mc telling them they have a crush on E?🤣(aspecially if they got a sibling-like bond and mc's pretty young, like 20 or 21) Lmao, i'm sorry but it just seems so funny cause in my head the mc was like "you know what perry? Fine, if i can't crush on a killer i'll just find someone else- hey you know what? Nvm i think E's kinda hot now that i realised it"

your wish is my command hahahah I like how this is sort of a continuation of the previous scenario ask

Also, it's not up to my best quality since I started getting a headache in the middle of it but I hope you like it anyway!!!

"I just don't see what the big deal is."

You stalk down the stairs in a rush, waving a hand at Perry who follows after you.

"The big deal is that you're attracted to (antagonist) which, if I have not already mentioned, tried to kill you."

You say nothing as you breeze through the kitchen, trying to shake Perry off your heels. He's been in a tizzy over your little declaration the other day, unable to get over the fact that you may or may not find (antagonist) is attractive....and total romance material.

You feel his presence as you maneuver around the kitchen, trying to distract yourself. You grab the carton of juice from the fridge, plucking a cup from the stack near the sink. Perry watches you the entire time, the awareness of his gaze leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. How does someone tell another person to 'back off' politely? N would know, definitely. You make a mental note to ask...

Unable to handle it anymore, you give in and turn around the same time Perry teleports in front of you. Jolting, you drop the carton of juice on the floor, mumbling profanities under your breath. "Can you..." You make a vague gesturing motion with your hand.

Perry crosses his arms, hurt. "I'm just looking out for you, MC. I don't want to see you hurt."

"That's sweet, but I won't get hurt." You pick up the carton from the floor and unscrew the cap, pouring some in your glass. When you're done, you turn back around and lean against the counter, taking a sip. "I'm not even going to pursue that."

"Oh, yeah?" At your nod, he lets out a small breath of relief. "Good, I was beginning to debate on locking you in here until you get your wits back."

Your lip twitches and you slowly set the cup down. "Lock me up for finding someone attractive?" "Not just someone." He frowns, full lips curved in a slight pout. "But (antagonist)."

You huff a little. "Whatever. If I can't pursue that, then I'll just find someone else--actually, you know what? E's pretty hot, now that I think about it."

Perry stares at you for a moment, and you swear you see his eyes turn black. "What."

"What?" you ask innocently.

He lets out a massive breath that's a cross between a scoff and a laugh. He steps backward, shaking his head at you. "Very funny. That-that is a hilarious joke."

Now it's your turn to stare at him blankly.

He swallows. "You are joking, right? Please tell me you're joking, MC."

Another twitch of your lip. You can already see his hackles rising. Perry is so easily affected, it's kind of sweet. "Nope. Do you think E is single?" Your eyes widen, and you make a show of growing excited. "You think E would go for someone like me?"

"They're like fifty!"

"They're thirty-two...which, last time I checked, is only two years older than you."

"Okay, but to you, they are fifty. You're barely old enough to drink."

"I'm legal where you're from, you know."

"That's not the point!"

You let out a scoff, putting a hand on your hip. "So what does that say about you?!"

"The difference is that I'm youthful," Perry harrumphs.

"Sureeee." You smile a little. "Get used to it, Perry. You'll be seeing a lot of them soon, if I can help it."

"You--" Perry shakes his head. "Stop that. You're going to give me a headache." He puts a hand to his head. "It's happening already--"

"Relaxxxx," you say easily, "what's the problem with E?"

"Everything. Everything is the problem." Perry grabs your shoulders, though he keeps his grip soft. "Excuse my language, but E is satan reincarnated. They are..." He shivers. "The Worst."

"Worse than the (antagonist)?"

He looks at you sidelong. "Am I a bad person if I have to think about it?"

You sputter out a bark of a laugh so loud he flinches. "You are ridiculous!"

A red tinge rises up his cheeks. "You haven't known E as long as I have. They may charm you and let your guard down with their smile and their perfect teeth, but they're not as nice as they say they are. They're just waiting for the moment you become vulnerable so they can get you in their hands and--"

"I think you're projecting," you muse.

The blush on his face only strengthens. "Whatever. All I'm saying is, you deserve better."

"Awww."

"It's not funny!" "I'm not laughing!" you gape, but really, you are pretty amused. Perry's insistence on worrying about you and your love life is not only sweet, but hilarious. "You should really let go of whatever grudge you have against them."

"I don't have a grudge," he pouts.

"Sure." You pat him on the shoulder, smiling sweetly as you begin to move away. "Or maybe you're secretly in love with them?"

The face of pure horror you get in reply almost makes you choke on your spit. You move away from the kitchen, watching as Perry goes through several emotions ranging from horror, shock, to revulsion.

"Great talk," you say, clicking your tongue and shooting him one last wink before you leave the room.

#ask #anonymous #emberwood #interactive fiction wip #interactive fiction #interactive novel #char:perry #scenario ask

47 notes · View notes

buttercream-squad-imagines · 3 years

Text

Tinder in Real Life

Pairings: Harry Lewis x fem!Reader, Sidemen x platonic!Reader Word Count: 2k Warnings: Language some people may find offensive, sexual themes, recycled lines from Sidemen Tinder in Real Life because I'm not at all creative Request: Hey! Could you do reader x Harry imagine where the sidemen do a collab video with the reader who is also a big youtuber and Harrys celebrity crush. And during the video the reader is very flirty, leaving Harry a flustered mess when the flirting is directed towards him, but very jealous when its with any other sidemen.

The Sidemen were one of the biggest groups on YouTube and one that you were very familiar with. At the age of 23, you were a fair bit younger than some of its oldest members but yet you had a close relationship with JJ, whom you had met through YouTube.

You had started your channel when you were 17, just under four years ago, making makeup videos, which was a passion of yours when you were younger. Not that you were any good at it back then. Those videos quickly become unlisted when your channel started blowing up in late 2016, now nearing 20 million at the present time.

It wasn't long before you expanded your horizons and had started making different sorts of videos, including vlogs of your everyday life - which wasn't and still isn't that exciting in your opinion - and those where you just had a laugh, attempting to do stupid challenges that were so popular back then. It was those, however, that grew your channel. Your fans seemed to love them and so you gradually started to make more.

As your small channel began to grow significantly, it caught the attention of KSI, a member of the Sidemen, who reached out to you to for a collab. You were ecstatic. You couldn't believe it at the time, why would someone like KSI with 20 million subscribers want to collaborate with you? By that time, you couldn't exactly call yourself a small channel anymore, with almost 5 million subscribers but it still didn't make any sense to you.

You and JJ quickly bonded after filming together. You had a very similar sense of humour and interests. As the years went, the older boy became one of your best friends, the nature of your relationship being very teasing and flirtatious but the both of you knew it was a joke. It was just the way you both were.

Though despite having known him for nearing 3 years now, you had never met the rest of the Sidemen, with the exception of Simon, as he lived with JJ. Which is why when he texted asking you to collaborate with the Sidemen, you couldn't turn the offer down. You were a fan of the group and the content they were producing. You thought the videos that they made were exceptional, that they were pushing the envelope of the standard of content on YouTube and often found yourself excited for new videos.

He had explained that they were filming another of their 'Tinder in real life' but a YouTuber version with the likes of BambinoBecky and ChiWithAC. You were so excited. You were finally going to meet the rest of JJ's friends and you had the opportunity to be a part of a Sidemen Sunday.

You arrived at the studio the boys were filming at in the afternoon, finding and greeting JJ before he introduced you to the other sidemen in addition to Lux, Freezy and Stephen.

"And you've already met Simon." He finished.

"Yeah. Nice to finally meet you all. JJ tells me a lot about you guys." You laughed.

"Because that's assuring." Ethan pointed out with a chuckle, the other boys letting out agreements.

"Not all bad, I promise." You teased, winking at him. Ethan felt the blood rushing to his face, immediately becoming flustered and stumbling over his words. You found that you often had that effect on people as you could be very direct and flirtatious even when you didn't mean it. To you it was just friendly banter.

"Geez Y/N, stop flirting with people you met literally five minutes ago." JJ rolled his eyes.

"You sound a bit jealous, Jide." You smirked, a teasing grin spread across your face.

"Nah, allow it." There were eruptions of laughter around the room, coming from the boys. You were quick to notice Harry standing out of the way and was significantly quieter than the others, with what seemed to be a forced smile on his face.

Harry was in his own head, barely paying attention to what was going on around him. When JJ had told him that you were going to be in the next Sidemen video, he panicked. You were an accomplished YouTuber who he was quite fond of to say the least. Well, that would be an understatement, he had a fairly large crush on you. A crush that no one but Freezy and Lux knew about.

He knew that JJ had been friends with you for some time now but never considered the possibility of even meeting you. His anxiety acted as a barrier to even the thought of it. But he was currently in the same room as you and had said nothing more than a short 'hello'. He longed to have the confidence Ethan had to speak to you, even more so for you to look at him the way you were.

Already you were flirting with JJ and Ethan, something that caused a pit to form at the bottom of his stomach. He wouldn't admit it, but he could slowly feel the jealousy forming. Not that he had anything to be jealous about in the first place!

You continued to speak with the boys as you got your mic set up, telling them stories you were sure would embarrass JJ.

"Y/N, stop." The older boy whined. He could be like a child sometimes, but it was one of his more endearing qualities. He simply wouldn't be JJ if he wasn't.

"No, carry on." Simon laughed.

"Oh, don't worry, there's plenty more where that came from." You teased.

"I think it's time we started, don't you think?" Harry grumbled.

"Right." You smiled at the boy, who's cheeks became tinted red. He ducked to hide his face and walked around to stand in the line, hiding himself in the middle.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, I'm 23 and I'm from Y/H/T." You spoke to the camera once you were given the go ahead.

"I'm Simon, I'm 28. I like to practice safe sex."

"Always a good start."

"I could tie you to the bed, so you don't fall off." He finished with a giggle. You acted like you were pondering it for a moment before letting out a laugh and swiping right.

"I'm down for that." You teased. The boys all let out rumbles of laughter

"Hi, I'm Ethan, I'm 26 and kiss me if I'm wrong, but you're gonna swipe right."

"What would you rather?" You joked. Ethan shrugged his shoulders and walked closer to the board, sticking his head through with his lips puckered, eliciting a cry of protest from Harry that this wasn't allowed. You laughed and made an over exaggerated motion to swipe to the right, causing him to pout playfully but walked over to the right anyway.

"Hi, I'm Josh, I'm 28. KSI has a top ten single, but you're the only hot single I can see."

"Wow, that was smooth!" You said with a grin. "Definite yes from me."

"I'm Callum, I'm 26. Are you into fitness?" Freezy asked.

"Can't say I am." You replied, unsure of what turn this could take.

"How about you fitness dick in your mouth?"

"I wouldn't get too excited babes, I gag on my toothbrush." You laughed. "We could try though."

You swiped right on him, chuckling as you watched him let out a yes before joining Simon, Ethan, and Josh. You frowned slightly, a crease forming between your brows as you saw Harry whisper something furiously at his friend but ultimately got distracted by Vik stepping up to go next.

"I'm Vik, I'm 25. My ex-girlfriend always said I'd never do better than her, wanna prove her right?" You could hear the cries of the boys in the background, some scolding him, others laughing.

"Man actually said prove her right. Not wrong." JJ shrieked with a shocked look on his face, holding his head with his hands.

"You need to find someone for that." You snarked, swiping left on the boy, who shrugged and walked off.

"Damn! You got told!" Lux cackled.

"Uh hi. I'm Harry. I'm uh 25, no I'm not I'm 24." He stumbled. "Are you sure you're a muggle? Because that ass is magical."

"You should see how magical it can be." You spoke before cringing at yourself and laughing, swiping right to avoid a reply. The boy's face grew a bright shade of red, closely resembling the colour of a tomato.

"Geez, is that an offer?!" Freezy yelled from the right side. You laughed, observing how Harry whispered furiously to the boy to stop and winked at him once he had could see. Your laughter only increased as you watched JJ step up.

"I'm JJ. I'm 28 and are you a raisin? Cause you're raising my dick." The boy in question stood in front of you so confidently, hands clasped together in front of him so seriously that you just lost it. By the time you composed yourself, there were tears almost falling from your eyes.

"A* for effort." You laughed, swiping right eliciting a cry of success.

You had wrapped up filming your segment of the video, which conveniently was the last of the day. You found JJ who you spoke to whilst the other boys were otherwise occupied talking to each other.

"Cheers for coming, Y/N/N. You've been great."

"Anything for you." You joked.

"Don't tempt me." He laughed. You could feel eyes on you, eyes that were burning into your side. You turned your head to see Harry staring you and JJ down before looking away after being caught in the act, and suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Does Harry not like me or something?" You whispered to JJ, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

"Not that I know of." He frowned looking at the younger boy. "He can be a bit awkward at times and gets flustered a lot."

"Right." You agreed. You excused yourself before sauntering up to the boy in question, calling his name to snap him out of the daze he appeared to be in.

"Oh, um hey Y/N." He stumbled.

"Hi." You smiled gently. "I uh, I was just wondering, do you... have I done something to offend you?"

"Offend me? Why, uh, why would you think that?" He rambled.

"It's just... it's nothing, it's probably just me overthinking things." You waved it off, feeling like a complete idiot.

"I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I don't like you. I don't not like you, in fact I really like you! Oh, um I mean I like you, you're very pretty." The boy couldn't stop rambling which made you laugh. "No, wait."

"You think I'm pretty?" You blushed interrupting him. Harry felt his mouth go dry, not being able to get anything coherent to come out. "Well, Harry, I really like you too."

"What?" His eyebrows shot up so far it was almost comical. "Really? So, you don't like the other guys?"

"What? No." You laughed. "That's absurd. Why would you think that?"

"You seemed very..." The boy trailed off, not wanting to offend you after you had admitted to liking him.

"Flirty?" You finished, causing him to nod. "I'm like that with everyone, I don't mean to be half the time."

"Oh."

"Well, how about you give me your phone number and when you finally grow a pair, you can ask me out?" Your confidence levels had shot up spontaneously.

"Uh, sure." His cheeks had become a dark shade of red as he passed his phone to you so you could put your number in. You kept looking up at him as you typed, putting your name under 'Y/N x' in his contacts before handing it back to him.

"Y/N! Come on! We're going to Nando's!" JJ called from the other side of the room.

"Call me." You winked. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and was currently the only thing from stopping the wide grin from spreading across your face. A grin that hadn't disappeared from your face for the rest of the day, much to the curiosity of JJ, who was disappointed when you refused to tell him why, or more appropriately who, had put the smile on your face.

1K notes · View notes

sanguinescorpios · 3 years

Text

stream sniper

dream x f!reader

summary | dream is on an important stream and too busy to give you attention. unfortunately for him, you’re feeling needy.

warnings | smut, thigh riding, voyeurism, dom!dream x sub!reader, edging, cockwarming, orgasm denial if you squint, this is filthy

word count | 2.8k

it started out innocent. you had been missing your boyfriend; between your school work and his editing, you rarely got to spend time together despite living in the same house.

you admit, you were a needy partner. you liked to be attached to clay’s hip at any chance you got, and he just let you. during recordings, during editing, even during streams; you were always there. it didn’t matter if he couldn’t really pay attention to you or if you had to sit on the couch behind his set up, you just enjoyed being in his presence.

this one, however, was slightly different than the average stream. you could count on one hand the amount of times clay had refused to let you be present for a stream and every time he had, it was a trainwreckstv stream.

it was fine, you always said, you understood. of course he wouldn’t want you there for a stream like that. he had to focus a lot harder on how and what he said on train’s podcast because the demographic and content was so drastically different from his own, and you would only distract him. it wasn’t personal. still, you couldn’t help but feel bitter about it. you missed him; final exams week had just ended and the idea of spending worry-free quality time with him was what got you through it. so you did what your totally logical brain told you to do: walk in anyways.

the door creaked as you opened it and you cringed internally. your sock-clad feet tread lightly as you moved forward into the room, praying your boyfriend wouldn’t notice your presence.

he did.

being a faceless creator, he didn’t even own a camera to accidentally have on, so you were safe on that front. the look on his face, however, told you that you were not so safe after all.

“i thought we agreed on you not being here for this stream?” he asked after tapping the mute keybind on his keyboard. he spun around in his chair with an abrupt kick from his heel, trying and failing to veil his annoyance.

“we did...but i missed you.”

he rolled his eyes, still ticked off but not so much that he was willing to turn you away. he missed you as well, he couldn’t deny it. not having you in his arms for so many hours was excruciating, though he tried not to think so dramatically. clay waved you over to him, the corners of his lips curling up at your attire.

“is that my shirt?” he asked, and you nodded. placing his large hands firmly on your hips, clay kept you close to him while he took a closer look at the oversized red t-shirt. it hung loosely on you, two sizes too big and ending mid-way down your thighs. clay couldn’t help but notice your lack of pants, too.

swooping his head down, he pressed a kiss to your exposed thigh. you brought your hands up to your face, heating up by the second, and giggled.

“no pants, hm?”

you gave him another non-verbal response, bashfully shaking your head while looking down at him through your fingers. he tsked you before pressing another kiss against your skin, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“naughty girl,” he remarked after a few more kisses.

“aren’t you on a stream right now?”

clay glanced behind himself at his monitor, watching as the grown men on the screen argued with each other over some nonsensical issue. returning his gaze to you, he shrugged.

“yeah, but it was getting pretty boring.”

without a warning, clay clumsily pulled you into his lap and spun the two of you back around in his chair. after giving you one more kiss, he placed his headphones back on his head and returned to the conversation on his computer.

“yo, dream, you’ve been pretty quiet, man,” train noted, just in time.

“yeah my cat was acting weird, so i was gone for a minute.” clay placed a hand on your thigh and squeezed, a stupid grin on his face. this was gonna be one hell of a night.

***

you hated to say it, but you regretted crashing the stream. the conversation was painfully boring and dragging on, but there was no way you could leave now with the hold clay had on you. one hand lay around your middle and the other was firmly gripping your thigh. with his calloused fingers rubbing circles into the crease between your leg and your torso and his confident voice rumbling in your ear, you weren’t sure if you’d make it to the end of the stream. maybe he was teasing you, or maybe you were just needy. either way, you were gonna need a little more attention than this.

you stretched your neck in order to meet clay’s gaze, hoping he’d see the desperation in your eyes. instead, he gave you a soft smile and a kiss on the nose before turning back to the screen. he expected you to turn back as well so when you didn’t, he took notice.

reaching to mute himself, he gave you a concerned look.

“you alright, baby?” he asked and you shook your head no, “what’s up?”

“need you,” you admitted, barely concealing the whine that threatened to escape your throat.

clay’s eyes darkened ever so slightly, making it feel like the air had just been sucked out of the room. he was thinking, debating what to do next as he bounced you on his leg. the pace was punishingly slow and you grit your teeth to hold yourself together.

“i’m a little busy, pretty girl,” he began as you let out a whine, “you’ll have to take care of yourself for now.”

you weren’t sure what that meant until you followed his gaze down. oh. oh. he wants you to...use him. okay. you raised yourself off his lap and he gave you a confused look, but it disappeared as soon as he saw you slipping out of your panties and was replaced by a smug smile.

climbing back onto his leg, facing him this time, you let out a puff of air. fuck, he felt good. your already dripping center pressed against clay’s jean-clad thigh, the rough fabric intensifying any amount of friction you could manage. you wanted to move so badly, but clay’s tight hold on your hips kept you stationary. you looked up at him with big eyes, silently asked for permission. finally, he nodded.

you immediately began rutting your hips against his thigh, resting your hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself. fuck, you thought as you felt the sturdiness of him underneath you, his shoulders. small mewls and whimpers escaped you as you increased your pace, chasing a high that you weren’t sure you could reach on your own.

train had clay talking about his sudden success, which was a fan-favorite topic as everyone either hated or loved him for it. the only catch was that, being the nature of train’s podcast, the focus was less on the money and more on the, well, you know.

“think about it, dream. there are people out there fucking themselves to the sound-to the thought of you. isn’t that crazy?” you heard train ask, though it was muffled by clay’s headset.

clay looked down at his lap, on which you were grinding your bare clit like a bitch in heat, and then back up to his monitor.

“not really.”

you nearly moaned at his words, but hid it by sucking a bruise into clay’s neck. clay hissed at the feeling and tried to push you off, but you were unrelenting. you swirled your tongue around the section of his skin to soothe the pain. pulling back to admire your work, you were met with a now aggravated clay.

“y-yeah i’m alright man,” he started, glaring down at you, “my cat just scratched me.”

you rolled your eyes. great excuse, asshole.

you began to lean back down towards his already bruising neck, but were instead met with a strong hand gripping your jaw, turning you to face your now dually frustrated boyfriend. something had shifted, the air felt thicker and clay felt sharper, all softness void from his demeanor. the look in his eyes was made of steel and flickering between your own gaze and your mouth, brows furrowed and tongue dipping between his lips to swipe across them. the little voice in your head was screaming “danger”, but danger didn’t look so bad in that moment. danger looked good, danger looked worth the risk. danger looked like getting the best fuck of your life.

ignited by the heat building in your core and the near-paralyzing look clay was giving you, you continued your previous actions. rutting your hips against clay’s thigh with fervor, you smiled proudly at him. the roughness of his jeans sent shivers through your body, you had to be soaking him and you were only getting wetter by the second.

your chin raised, a smug smile plastered to your features, and that challenging glint in your eye - you were such a fucking brat and clay lived to put you in your place. his hold on your jaw tightened before sliding down to rest on your throat, squeezing until your eyelids began to flutter and your thrusts grew sloppier. the knot in his stomach twisted tighter at the sight. fuck, clay thought, you were something else. something that needed to be taught a lesson.

clay muted again, taking advantage of the ad break to pull down his sweatpants and pull out his cock. he pumped it a few times, precum leaking from the tip and sliding down his length. your stomach flipped at the sight, never not taken back by his size. clay grabbed you by your hips and spun you around so that you were facing his pc, facing everyone on the call that you had nearly forgotten he was still on. then, he began to tease his tip at your entrance.

“this what you wanted, pretty girl? wanted me to treat you like a slut? wanted me to fuck you with everyone on the call?”

you moaned at the feeling of him circling the place you needed him most. the heat was still heavy on you from your previous actions and your body was no less frenzied than before, you wanted your release more than anything. knowing that all of those people were there didn’t help your crazed state. you felt dirty and you liked it.

“sit.”

you lifted yourself over him without a second thought, slick and sensitive from the buildup of your long-awaited orgasm. a moan slipped past your lips at the stretch, feeling every inch of him against your walls as he bottomed out. instinctively, you let your head fall against clay’s shoulder, overwhelmed by how full you felt. god, he felt so good. when you went to move, clay’s strong hands gripped your hips and held you in place.

you whimpered against his neck, trying and failing to get some sort of friction going. when that didn’t work, you opted to clench around him, but clay simply tsk-ed you.

“you’ve been naughty, baby,” he started, “now you’ll sit here like a good girl and keep me warm until the stream’s over.”

what? you thought to yourself, the panic setting in. he can’t be serious!

“no, no, no, no, i’ll be good!” you begged. you’d been practically edging yourself for what felt like hours now, you needed him to let you release.

“i know you will, baby. now sit still for daddy, okay?”

time passed immeasurably slow. your mind was racing with thoughts, trying to focus on anything but clay’s cock throbbing inside of you. you tried your hardest not to squeeze him too often, despite how much relief it brought you. clay was feeling the heat too, your warm, velvety walls gripped him impossibly tight and he was beginning to regret choosing this punishment. you needed the lesson, but god was he suffering for it.

when the stream finally came to an end, the first thing clay did was thrust up into you. you yelped, gripping his arm in surprise at the sudden movement. he started up a steady pace, pounding up into you and rubbing harshly at your clit. the feeling was intense, especially after how long you’d been teased and forced to wait, and you found yourself moaning wildly because of it, unable to control your noises as he spun you around in his lap once again.

“had to-make me-punish you-during a stream, huh?” he taunted between harsh thrusts, grabbing you by your hair and forcing you to look at him. “had to choose today to be a little slut?”

you let out a near-pornographic noise, your eyes rolling back into your head as he hit your most sensitive spot.

“i asked you a question.”

“i’m sorry, daddy. i - ah! - i won’t do it again!” you wailed, head falling back as you felt your release fastly approaching.

clay grunted and forced you to look at him again, pushing his thumb into your mouth and letting you drool around it.

“look at me when you fucking speak,” he ordered.

he picked up the pace in frustration, wanting you to apologize appropriately. you distracted him, you should know how much he hates that. you should also know how much he demands your eye contact, getting fucked or not.

you coerce your eyes open and look at him, not concerned about how absolutely wrecked you must look right now. mascara running down your cheeks with tears from over and under stimulation, eyeliner smudged around your blown out eyes, lips red and sore from kissing on his neck, you were a mess. a hot one, if you asked clay.

“i’m sorry, daddy. i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry!” you continued to babble around his finger as his thrusts somehow grew harder and harder, the pace excruciatingly pleasurable. you were going to cum, you knew that much, but you needed permission.

“gonna cum, daddy!” you warned, feeling the burning knot in the pit of your stomach begging to unravel.

“cum for me, baby. make daddy proud.”

and make daddy proud you did, cumming hard around clay’s cock and feeling yourself spray his stomach with your juices. did you just? oh my god, you did. the embarrassment only made you feel hotter as clay continued to fuck your hole past your orgasm. you whined from the overstimulation, but he couldn’t have cared less.

clay’s moans went from low grunts to higher, breathy gasps, the closer he got the lighter his noises became. his brows were furrowed tightly and his eyes were blown out, the darkest shade of green you think you’d ever seen. the muscles in his arm pulsed as he gripped your waist tighter, completely using you as his own personal fuck toy. he was almost there, you could feel it in the way he gave his all but couldn’t keep up the organized pace he had before. you needed him to cum, not just because you were close to being worked up all over again from the stimulation, but because you wanted to make him feel good. in that moment, making him cum felt like your life purpose, your only purpose. you didn’t just want him to cum, you needed it.

“please give me your cum daddy, wanna feel it inside me,” you begged, taking matters into your own hands, “need you to make me yours.”

at that, clay groaned out a loud string of profanities and came inside of you. he painted your insides, you could feel him everywhere. you sighed at the feeling, warm and full and satisfied. clay let his head fall into the crook of your neck as he breathed through his cool down, pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulder and mumbling praises and ‘i love you’s’. it took a moment for either of you to actually speak, just relishing in the moment and enjoying each others company.

“you gonna move anytime soon, bud?” you finally asked with a giggle. clay simply shook his head and buried it farther into your neck, humming out a ‘no’.

“wanna make sure it stays in for a while.”

you giggled again at his confession, pressing a kiss to the side of his head and ruffling his hair.

“okay baby,” you paused and pouted, “i’m sorry for interrupting your stream.”

clay sat back and gave you a soft smile, pressing his finger to your lips and turning your frown upside down, literally. he shook his head and gave you a sweet kiss, pressing his own lips tenderly to yours.

“don’t apologize, it was worth it.” a cheeky smile spread across his face and you rolled your eyes, the endearing air around you severed by your boyfriend’s childishness. you loved it, though you’d never tell him.

“you think anyone was suspicious of us?” you inquired, hoping to god no one had picked up on your quiet moans while the stream was still going.

“nah,’ clay lied.

#dreamwastaken x you #dream x you #dream x reader #mcyt x reader #dreamwastaken smut #dream smut #dreamwastaken x reader #dream #dreamwastaken #mcyt

2K notes · View notes

chubbology · 3 years

Text

Getting Big

prompt: someone discovering they're a feeder as their feedee partner gets bigger

Sometimes you’re both in bed, distracted and ignoring each other on your phones or laptops, when you notice. Your eyes lift from your phone and notice your partner’s relaxed belly, rising and lowering with calm breath, stretching the fabric of their shirt. Really stretching it now, not just with every inhale, but by default. Not just pushing the seams a little with chubbier hips, but forcing the cotton to bow out close to its limit, forcing the stitching to cave into a belly button deeper and softer-looking than you remember. And your eyes inevitably take in the rest: thicker thighs, more shapely chest, less defined arms, softer jawline.

You’re aware that your partner’s gained a little weight. More than a little, but it’s fine. Probably thirty or so pounds, not a big deal, and you absolutely don’t judge them for it. Have they mentioned it at all? No, they just keep tugging at their shirts and pants. And underwear. Their underwear is getting too small for them, with weight gain making them a bit of a pear and all, but you don’t say anything. You don’t say they need bigger underwear. You don’t tell them how much you appreciate the fact that they need it. As long as they stay mum on the subject of their weight and the fit of their clothes, so will you; that’s your rule.

Sometimes you’re both in bed, watching TV, and they’re eating their way to the bottom of a quart of appallingly flavored ice cream (super-caramel-quadruple chocolate-chunk type stuff), and you keep sneaking glances. Because you’re amazed they’re comfortable enough around you to eat freely like this—or so you tell yourself. Their eyes are so glazed with distracted pleasure that maybe it didn’t even occur to them not to gorge themselves tonight, right in front of you.

Not gorging themselves like some kind of pig—no, it’s just, you both ordered a lot of takeout just a couple hours ago, and then they snacked on chips for a while, and then there was that candy bar they ate on a whim while you took out the trash, and now it’s a whole quart of ice cream. A whole quart. The more glances you sneak at them, the more you notice how their budding second chin peeks out when they chew. The more you notice that their bites seem hasty, as if tinged by some kind of distant, unconscious desperation.

You lean against them as if too tired to stay upright, reaching over them casually, letting one arm rest against their belly. It’s soft. It’s bigger. Not a big deal at all, you tell yourself for the millionth time.

And yet, you ponder their weight more. You’ve been pondering it incessantly. You can’t stop thinking about how they went to the mall two weeks ago without telling you, bought clothes a size up, and already were uncomfortably tugging and pulling on on every tight band and seam again. You can’t stop your thoughts from wandering to the idea of them sizing up again any more than your partner can stop their hands from opening another package of cookies.

“Ugh, this stuff is so good,” they mutter, swallowing the last bite, then closing the lid on the carton and setting it aside.

“Mm. I’ll buy more then,” you say without thinking. It’s fine if they size up again, after all. You’ll love them no matter their body type. Their happiness comes first. “I’m going to the grocery store anyway.”

A couple months later, going to the grocery store is not a chore to you, but a fun outing. You never used to even go down the junk food isles if you were by yourself, but now you scour them carefully. You place things in the cart you know your partner will like, and consider new brands and products they might like to try. It’s all so colorful and thrilling to actually buy. You tell yourself you might even try some of it and ignore the intrusive thought of your partner sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night again to binge on half the goodies themselves.

What niggles at you isn’t that you’re buying way too much junk food for your partner, who’s a little overweight now. It’s not as if they’ve told you to stop, or have implied they want to lose weight, or have said anything about any of it at all. That’s the thing: you’re in uncharted waters, and they haven’t told you a word about whether they fine with the way the tide was turning or whether they were actually really concerned that they were getting heavy and a little jiggly and they didn’t know what to do about it, let alone have the wherewithal to say, Honey, stop buying junk food. I’m getting fat.

Just the thought of the word makes you blush at the box of Fudge Covered Twinkies you’re holding. You quickly set them back on the shelf. Twinkies were practically the poster food for getting fat, right? Surely, your partner would suspect something, even though there wasn’t anything to suspect. You just know that they like food, particularly food that’s soft and sugary and addictive, and what better, cheaper food to comfort them with than Twinkies? No, it wouldn’t be good for their waistline, but you can already see their eyes fluttering closed at the taste—which was probably not even good, but that was hardly the point, was it?

Compromising, you buy a limited edition blue-stuffed brand of Twinkies instead, preparing an excuse that you thought the novelty of it was amusing and wondered if it was good.

But later that night, your partner eats six of them while you play video games and doesn’t mention the novelty of it at all. Your character dies stupidly and your partner laughs at you, belly jiggling as they do. You swallow, eyes fixating on their fat thighs. There’s no other word for them—they’re fat. Their thighs have gotten fat, just like their belly got fat, just like their hips and chest and arms and even their neck and face has been rounding out with so much chub. They were fat and they did eat like a pig, and all signs pointed to more weight gain. They were going to keep gaining weight, and when was it going to stop? When you finally decided enough was enough? When their doctor told them to take control? Yeah, so, you could imagine them awkwardly saying, coming home from the doctor, I guess I gotta lose weight. Maybe they would be holding a pamphlet on obesity or something, looking ashamed.

And maybe they would try at first. You would help. They’d exercise a little here and there, maybe only eat one Twinkie instead of six, maybe not ask for takeout so often. But it wouldn’t last. The second their will broke, yours would too. And you’d both be in bed, distracted by nothing but endless waves of pleasure that your sex life hadn’t known in a while, them leaning back against the headboard, eating every fattening thing you had to offer, which would be many, many, as many fattening things as they’d agree to swallow down like they glutton they were becoming.

“Babe?”

You blink.

“You okay?” they say with that chubby face of theirs, a face that said, I’ve been gaining so much weight, and you’re really aroused.

“I’m glad you like those,” you stutter. You look at the Twinkies box, and so do they. Your mouth keeps moving without forethought. “I’ll buy you more next time. Any other flavors you like?” You set down your controller and push your hand into their hair affectionately. Since they’re slouched, they look up at you, and you lower your hand to the back of their neck, touching the bulge of the fat there. “Want me to get you your favorite ice cream? I know you had a long day at work.” You stand and head for the kitchen, ignoring your partner’s confused ums and wells.

You open the freezer and get one of many ice cream quarts. Thanks to you, the fridge and freezer have been stuffed to the gills with crap, but you can’t regret it, not when it makes your partner look perpetually stuffed to the gills too. You get a spoon and sit down next to them again, brain fuzzy with want. “You’ll feel better when you finish this. By the time you do, I’ll finally finish this damn level.”

“I’m—I’m not…” But the look in their eyes is conflicted. “I’m not that hungry, really.”

You laugh. Your body is buzzing. “Please. With you, when you eat and when you’re hungry are completely unrelated. Let’s make it a competition! Finish before I do. Go!”

“What?”

You’re already starting the level over, thinking to yourself What the hell? Don’t make them eat if they don’t want to. Even if they do want to, even when they’re full, because they’re greedy and addicted, gonna get obese soon—

A minute passes, and they’re sitting up, belly folded in rolls on their lap, looking poised to either stand up and put the ice cream away or rip the lid off and devour it all.

“Eat it,” you say innocently, or try to. It mostly comes out like a pathetic attempt at sounding not-horny.

You glance over, and they still look conflicted, so you lean over and kiss them on their tubby cheek. “Go ahead,” you say, quieter. You meet their eyes. “Don’t you want to?”

They look taken aback now, flushed. All at once, they seem aware of their blubbery, overweight body, and they shift on the couch. You forget the game and lean in again, kissing them on the lips, then deeper as they lean into you. “I know you want to,” you whisper. You cup their fattened hip, squeeze it gently. “I bet you really want to.”

They’re blushing really hard now, gone shy and speechless. So you move closer to them, and since their head is lowered to avoid your eyes, you land a sweet peck on their bulging second chin. Then you peel off the lid of the carton, tear the plastic off, and push the spoon satisfyingly into the over-processed sugar that has been fattening your partner out of their clothes so well.

Despite their air of reluctance, they eat the spoonful you offer as if on instinct. They squirm with pleasure, and your breath hitches when their plump hand twitches out to take the spoon away from you when you don’t use it quick enough. You scoop them another bite. Then another. The room is quiet except for the game in the background and your rapidly beating heart. Their eyelids lower, and you murmur encouraging words to them. That’s it. It’s good, huh? Big bite... The experience seems no less momentous to them than to you, and so you keep going. Their eyes drift shut and so you guide their mouth to open at the right times. Eventually, your cooing gets bolder.

“I know how much you like this. Like eating. Eating a little too much.”

Their mouth pauses around the spoon, but their eyes don’t open. They swallow and wait for the next bite.

“And I know you get up in the middle of the night sometimes, just to eat,” you say. “Eat and eat until your clothes feel tight and your stomach’s queasy, right? You always come back to bed so uncomfortable, tossing and turning, panting a little. Holding back little burps. I wake up and all the junk food I bought is gone.”

Your partner leans into to your next spoonful, then takes it from you. Without meeting your eyes, they start eating from the tub themselves, at twice your pace. You smooth your fingers through their hair. Then rub a hand down their arm, which was now sausage-like with so much fat clinging to it. But it’s squishy, when you pinch it. No firmness anywhere you can see.

“I’m sure you know you’re getting big, baby. You’re getting big. But that’s okay.” You rub your hands over their belly, their hips, their rolls of back fat. “You just keep eating as much as you like.”

And after another pause, they nod.

#weight gain #fic #askbox prompts #genderless #reader feeder #nonbinary gainer

3K notes · View notes

buckyownsmylife · 3 years

Text

You and I - Henry Cavill smut

The one where Henry comes over to fix your computer

Warnings: reader is a henry fan, pandemic theme, lockdown and quarentine-ing, little bit of second-hand embarrassment?, heatwave, henry is feeling deprived in this one, oral sex (f), masturbation (f), dirty talk, brief hairpulling, the name of God in vain, Henry’s monster dick, laughing and teasing while fucking, hand over throat but no actual choking, orgasm control, p in v, unprotected sex

Word count: over 3k, ‘cause I got no chill

A/N: this was inspired by a tik tok someone requested me to write a fic about it. Obviously I took it in a different direction because can I ever follow guidelines? No. I do love this fic, though. Thank you to @lokiscollar for giving this a read for me!

Y/N’s P.O.V

Driving to a secluded location to spend lockdown in felt like a wonderful idea. There was a working wi-fi connection, so I could work remotely from the seashore cabin without any problem whatsoever, and the view was obviously to die for.

I did not expect someone else to have the same idea as me. The cabin next door had been occupied on the same day that I arrived, and much to my surprise, I recognized my new neighbor as someone I never expected I’d come to meet in my entire life: an actor. An actor I actually had a crush on.

Thankfully, the situation didn’t exactly call for mingling. I ran off to hide inside my cottage as soon as I realized who he was, occupying myself with fixing everything for the next day instead of daydreaming about the man next-door.

There would be time for that later, once I got in bed. But weirdly enough, that was the only time I really thought about him during those first weeks of quarantine. Every once in a while I’d get the random wave of curiosity about what he was doing - what did Henry Cavill get up to while spending lockdown by himself? But that was pretty much it.

I woke up every day, had breakfast, worked and then went to bed. Sometimes I’d sit by the balcony and watch the birds fly, taking in the scenery and breathing in the salty water. Even as a kid, I’d always loved the sea. It was comforting, so it made sense for me to turn to it in such a stressful time.

Sometimes I’d hear a bark or two, reminding me of the man who was staying in the other cabin, and it made me smile. I always did like his dog, whenever I saw pictures of him.

I hoped they were alright and that the absence of any human contact wasn’t getting to them, even though it was getting to me. I could feel my own social abilities - which weren’t exactly stellar before - slowly becoming decrepit, and I was scared to think of what my first human interaction would be like once lockdown was over.

I just hadn’t anticipated it would be come so soon.

The morning began as it usually would. I took my shower, I had my breakfast, and I sat in front of the computer with my coffee in hands, ready to start working for the day.

Only the computer wasn’t ready for it, too.

“What?” I talked to myself - something that had become more usual the longer lockdown went on. “Oh, no, no, no…” The situation was looking drearier the longer I stared at my lifeless screen.

Looking up at the clock, I considered my options. Even supposing I could get someone to come to this middle of nowhere to fix it, there was no way I’d be able to get it done before work started.

Sighing, I pushed away from my designated desk to call my boss. Thankfully, he understood and I was left to repair the damn thing and come up with a solution for the next day.

My heart ached at the prospect of having to abandon my refuge because of an electronic malfunction. And that is, if there even was anyone willing to fix the damn thing, considering the pandemic and the rules of social distancing. That’s when suddenly, an idea popped up.

I remembered all the fuss a few months back over a video of Henry assembling a computer all by himself. There was no way someone with that much hardware prowess couldn’t at least know enough to fix this simple laptop.

With that thought in mind, I gathered all of my courage to leave my little shack and make my way to the neighboring cabin. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door, and after a few seconds of silence - he was probably surprised and certainly not expecting anyone - a voice sounded from within.

“Who is it?” Now, I had thought this through. If this man came as far as I had come to this damn forgotten town, it was because 1) he wanted peace and quiet and 2) he was as terrified of the virus as I was. So I knew what I needed to say - what I would like to hear if the roles were reversed.

“It’s your neighbor. My name’s Y/N. I’m so sorry to disturb, but my computer broke and I need it to work and you’re the only person I’m 100% sure has been socially distancing for long enough not to put my life in risk.” After all, I would have seen if someone had come to visit him. I didn’t need to say this because both of us knew it. “Would you pretty pretty please come and check it out?”

Silence followed my question and I sighed, rubbing my sweaty forehead as I knew this was a long-shot. “I understand if you’re unable or uncomfortable doing so, I just figured I’d ask. Thanks anyway!”

I had already turned my back to his front door when I heard it swinging open, the pitter patter of paws following close behind. My eyes took in the man in front of me for only a second before looking down at the dog at his feet, head tilted in interest as he analyzed me.

Immediately, my eyes lit up. “Kal!” I exclaimed, kneeling down to let the animal sniff me so I could pet it. My heart stopped working for a second when I realized what I’d done, though.

“Sorry!” I looked up at him from my kneeling position, trying to ignore how awkward it was, considering what I was close to. “I-I do know who you are, I’m not gonna lie about that.”

I straightened up as he kept looking at me in a way I couldn’t quite define. Neither could I determine how it made me feel, just that it made me avert my gaze so I’d stare at my feet.

“So… Are you gonna help me?” He chuckled at my question, closing the door behind him and taking a step in my direction, making me fumble as I instinctively stepped back.

“Sure.” It was the first thing he spoke to me, but we walked back to my own place in silence. He had his hands in his pockets as Kal followed us closely, his tongue hanging outside his mouth as he happily explored the outside for this little while. “Come on in.”

The way the cottage was set up left little space for him to wonder where he should be helping me. The desk in which I had prepared my set-up stood right by the wall to our left, and there he went without me having to point it out.

I watched a drop of sweat roll down the nape of his neck and fall under his tank top, distracting me as I licked my lips at the sight of it. Then his head turned to look at me and I realized that he was waiting for an answer to a question I hadn’t heard.

“Yeah, huh?” He chuckled again, making my face feel warm - an not (only) because of the overwhelming heat.

“Is it okay if I disconnect the wi-fi?” I wave my hand dismissively, shrugging.

“As long as you’re able to fix this, you can do whatever the hell you want.” I got the impression that I amused him, but he didn’t say anything else as he got to work on my (seemingly) dead computer.

Minutes went by of complete silence, safe from the sounds of typing and metal as Henry worked on the machine and I tried not to bite my nails. Finally, he pulled away from the screen and put his hands on his hips as if assuming some sort of decided stance - but if it was a good or bad thing, I couldn’t tell.

“Tell me, doctor.” I asked, pushing myself away from the sofa to approach him. The smell of a man’s sweat really had no right to be this arousing. “Is it life or death?” Henry turned to stare at me with a quirked eyebrow, and in the seconds it took for him to answer, I was once again distracted by just how hot he was.

“Sorry, what?” I asked when he became silent and I realized he’d asked me something I hadn’t heard once more. His smile said he was annoyed and entertained at the same time. “Sorry, you’re hot, it’s hot, and I can’t think straight,” I sighed, brushing the hair away from my eyes as I pressed my palms against them, trying to pull myself together.

“I swear to God, I’m not crazy.” I tried to look him directly as I said that, but was surprised at what I saw when our gazes met. There was a peculiar sense of yearning that he exuded, something I couldn’t quite place but that took my breath away all the same, especially when he took my silence as an invitation to invade my personal space.

“If you want me so badly, all you have to do is ask.” Silence fell heavily and I was out of breath just from his words - not a good sign. My throat felt dry, too dry, so I swiped my tongue over my bottom lip as I struggled to say something.

“W-why, though?” He tilted his head to the side, eyes inscrutable while he judged my question, trying to understand where it came from just like I was trying to understand his interest in me, when he suddenly smiled.

“I figured it’s a nice way for you to pay me back.” It took me a second to understand what he was referring to, and then my eyes darted from the computer to him, my mouth falling open in offense until he started chuckling. “I’m joking!” But even so, the question remained…

“Sweetheart…” He spoke, voice low and velvety as two strong hands suddenly enveloped my hips. “You’re seriously underestimating how hot you are.” I didn’t know what to say, so I had to make sure I’d hear him right.

“M-me?” A predatory smirk took over his face, slowly. I gulped under its intensity, feeling much like prey as he started to back me against the couch. I fell on top of it with a gasp, and another one escaped me when he used my ankles to pull me closer.

“I wanna eat you out.” It was all I got as an answer, but I can’t say that I minded it. As he dropped to his knees before me, pulling down my underwear before spreading my legs for his eyes to take in, it felt like I got a response from the gesture in itself.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I ate pussy?” The unexpected question made me choke on my own saliva, as he chuckled darkly in amusement at my bashfulness. I could only breathe through my mouth when he leaned down to run his tongue on the edge of my lips, slowly acquainting himself with my taste, making me moan softly.

“I-I definitely and decidedly don’t.” He seemed to like this answer, understand that it delimited exactly the type of fan that I was: the kind that knew what he was and what he liked - his dog, his computer - but not someone who was obsessed with his entire dating history, eager to know his every secret.

The longer Henry ate me out, the clearer it became just how long it’d been since he’d done this. It was obviously something he liked - the way he buried his face against my cunt and engulfed it entirely with his open mouth showed so. And the fact that he licked me and sucked me like he was a starved man? This was a man denied of a pleasure he genuinely enjoyed, that much I was certain of.

“Do you like this?” He asked once he inserted one of his thick fingers inside of me, already stretching me beyond what I could do with my own hand.

“How could I not?” I managed to moan a response, making him chuckle.

“Show me how to find it,” he instructed, eyes sparkling with determination. “I want to find your sweet spot.” I’d never had someone I was with so interested in giving me pleasure before.

Hypnotized, my fingers circled his wrist as best as I could, slowly moving him to run his digits over the top of my channel. He knew when he found it because I cried out for him, closing my eyes momentarily.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, and how could I deny him that, especially when he was looking at me with those darkened eyes? He milked my orgasm until my pussy had stopped clenching around him, but the second that it was done, he growled, getting up to his knees. “Gonna fuck you now.”

He pulled me by my hair, making me moan out loud as he slowly inserted his monster cock inside of me. “Oh, God!” His groan had me panting, cunt clenching around his thickness. I couldn’t understand how I was able to take it, but I was glad that was the case. “So… tight…”

Through his grip on my hair, he pulled me to deposit quick kisses down my jaw. “You take me so well, darling.” It was a compliment I was proud to receive, even though I wasn’t too sure how I managed to earn it in the first place.

“I honestly don’t know how,” I admitted, gasping when he slowly dragged his cock out to slam it in me, but I instinctively pulled my hips away, earning an amused chuckle from him.

“Come back here,” he ordered, already pulling me back to spear me with his painfully hard length. I’d have to be inhuman not to cry out at the feeling of his bulbous head bumping against my cervix. “Are you scared?” He joked as I bit on my bottom lip not to give in and laugh. “You think I’m too big?”

“You’re more than enough, I’ll tell you that.” Now, that had his own laugh escaping his chest, making my body tremble underneath his, inadvertently getting some friction between the both of us. It earned me a moaned out, “Yes…” that got his attention back to where I hoped it would be, and as his eyes settled on me, I briefly wondered if I was prepared for what was to come.

“But now that you got all of me inside of you, do you really want to go?” The whispered question made me shiver. I never expected him to be the type to talk dirty, but then again, I never expected I’d be fucked by him, either.

“No.” It was all the permission he needed.

“Then let me fuck you hard.” And hard he did fuck me. He was hard inside of me, it probably would have been painful for him if he wasn’t so desperately trying to alleviate it by frantically fucking me against the couch.

It was the most deliciously torturous experience I’d ever gone through. I had to bite my lip while I held onto his shoulders for dear life, trying to stop my moans from escaping because I was sure that for once, I’d become a screamer.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Henry didn’t appreciate my efforts to keep his ears from deafening. “What’s wrong?” He questioned, fingers tightening on my hips. “I thought you wanted this.”

Confused, all I could think to say was, “I-I do.”

“Then let me hear you,” he insisted. “You know you can scream all you want. We’re all alone up here on the coast.” Well, he wasn’t wrong. And with that reassurance, I allowed my head to fall back and my mouth to fall open, my moans flowing freely from my body as Henry kept fucking me.

“This is so much better than touching myself in search of a release,” he mumbled at some point, like he was talking to himself. “I was so damn lonely and you have such a tight little pussy.”

Being fucked by him felt like a religious experience. Henry somehow knew the map to my pleasure, easily bringing me to the brink of bliss before I had even managed to wrap my head around this turn of events.

My moans grew louder as I climbed higher and higher, but before I could fully tip over his hand curled around my throat, not constricting any air, just calling my attention.

“Ask for permission, baby.” Just the order had me clenching around him, prompting him to release a moan of his own. All the while, I was groaning in frustration, trying to control myself or say what he wanted me to say, but all that came out of me was, “Goddamn! You can’t say stuff like that.” Henry’s laughter flowed freely once more, making my heart skip a beat. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a fucking movie star and I am not up to fall in love with you.” That had his eyebrows raising in surprise, the smile disappearing from his face before it came back as a teasing smirk.

“Oh, so this is a one-time thing.” The taunting manner in which he said it surprised me in turn, so I hesitated before nodding. I mean, of course it was, right? He didn’t even know me. This was strictly sexual and physical, I would not be fooled by my own hormones. “My cock is not enough for you to want to get to know me some is that it?” … Was he testing me?

“Yes.” His smirk only grew at the word. “This is a one-time thing.”

“We’ll see about that.” His fingers ran down my body to graze over my clit. I sucked in a breath, trying to keep it in, knowing I was going to lose. Eventually, as my thighs began to tremble, I gave in altogether.

“Please, let me cum, please.” His eyes softened at my broken and desperate plea, hand gripping my cheeks as he finally nodded.

“Keep staring at me as you cum,” he commanded, still just as bossy. “Show me how pretty you look when you cream all over my dick.” That was all I needed to succumb to the pleasure he was subjecting me to.

I felt his cock, still hard as it pumped rope after rope of cum inside of me, and by the time I was able to open my eyes again, he was panting over me, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my face.

I didn’t have the time to think about what I should do - push him away, try to pretend this didn’t happen - because the second I began to adjust on the couch, he pulled me to rest against his chest.

“Let’s stay here for a little while,” he quietly asked me. “Then we’ll figure out if there’s enough room for me to take you in your bed.”

#my fics #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #smut #henry cavill request #henry cavill requests #my requests #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill reader #henry cavill reader insert #henry cavill reader inserts #rpf #fanfiction #henry cavill oneshot

1K notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself)

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Warnings for: canon-typical dismemberment, unfortunately-aimed puppy crushes

Word count: 5,839

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

The first time a Jedi meets a Skywalker, it’s on Bandomeer.

The planet is close to Mandalorian space. Finding someone associated with Mandalore is, technically, not that surprising. There are even Mandalorian operations on the planet.

What is surprising is the fact that the person from Mandalorian space is an unfamiliar Jedi Knight who is utterly unstoppable.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi has no way of knowing how similar his experiences are to what might have been, on this planet. Mandalore has been interfering in operations here ever since Ylliben Skywalker started reporting visions about the coming catastrophe. Where that interference has helped or hurt... well. There’s no way to know.)

(Is there?)

When Xanatos shows up and starts taunting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, there’s a giggle from the doorway.

All three have to turn to look at the individual in question.

Mid-twenties, leaning against the doorframe, slim but strong, covered in dark fabric and half a set of armor. A scar by one eye, well-kept hair, and a smirk that could burn the longest fuse. A lightsaber, unlit, in one gloved hand.

This man is... very attractive, Obi-Wan thinks. This is not an appropriate thought for the situation. Obi-Wan thinks he can maybe blame it on the exhaustion.

“No, no, keep going,” the stranger says, sounding like there’s a laugh stuck in his throat. He waves dismissively. “Let’s, ah, let’s hear the master plan. Good ranting voice, maybe a six out of ten on the ‘I’m better than you’ and a four on the actual intimidation. You can do better.”

“Excuse me?” Xanatos hisses, sounding incredibly malicious to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Just who do you think you are?”

“And now you’re overselling it,” the stranger sighs. “Are you new at this? You seem new at this.”

“I would... also like to know who you are,” Master Jinn admits, shifting uncertainly as he tries to keep both du Crion and the stranger in his sights.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jedi Knight, here to fight darksiders because... that’s my life, apparently,” the man says, looking down at his arm for some reason. He shakes his head and looks up at them with a bright grin. “Do you need some help, Master Jinn?”

“You still haven’t told us your name.”

“This is true,” the knight says. “That said, I’ve been told by my boss to explicitly avoid naming myself while on this mission for a variety of reasons.”

“Your... boss,” du Crion drawls. “Not the Council, then.”

“Current supervisor,” the stranger offers as correction, completely unconcerned. “It’s a complicated situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry about nonentities.”

The man purses his lips like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh again. It’s very mocking. “Sure, kid.”

Xanatos has had his lightsaber out ever since Obi-Wan and Master Jinn entered the room, but he does one of those fancy, meant-to-be-intimidating one-handed saber twirls as he turns to face the Knight.

The man’s smirk widens. “You do realize you’re going to lose, right? C’mon, kid--”

“I’m older than you!”

“I did like zero research on you as a person, just your many and varied crimes; how old are you?”

Du Crion’s face goes pinched. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Ah, yeah, no, I’m older,” the knight says. “Only a few years, but I’m also a delightfully obnoxious little bastard who ages real slow for, uh, reasons--”

Obi-Wan is fascinated. This man is very strange. And very pretty.

Obi-Wan may be light-headed. Is he bleeding? Blood loss would explain this.

Obi-Wan isn’t bleeding. Damn.

“--anyway, I’m sure I’ve got a more interesting life with more mature experiences than you,” the knight says. “So even if I wasn’t older in body, I’d be older in spirit.”

The knight’s entire sense of being carries such an air of banthashit that Obi-Wan can barely believe it. It’s almost impressive. Obi-Wan wonders how often this man just opens his mouth and immediately gets punched in the face.

“You talk a lot for a man in someone else’s domain.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” the knight says. “At least I’m not flirting with you. That’s what my master did with almost every darksider we met except his grandmaster.”

Du Crion pauses.

Obi-Wan has the distinct feeling that he and Master Jinn have lost any control they might have, at any point, had over this situation. They hadn’t had much control in the first place, but anything they did have is squarely in the stranger’s court right now. The silver lining to that is that du Crion is thoroughly distracted and has also lost some control of the situation.

“Besides,” the man continues, completely ignoring the very red lightsaber that is being very obviously readied for his death. “This is not that big of an advantage for you. I mean, hey, the fancy central console that can only be reached by skinny walkways with no railings are a nice touch, all chromed metal and minimal lighting, very dramatic, but there’s no lava. I’m not, like, chained to a rock in the middle of an arena for a public execution at the hands of starving animals the size of a fighter ship. You’re threatening to kill me personally instead of standing in the most expensive box of the theater, sipping your wine and congratulating yourself on step one of a plan that has another fifty-thousand steps and no end in sight. You--”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been in worse situations by better darksiders than you. This is sad. You’re sad. Try harder.”

Obi-Wan makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Nobody seems to notice, but Master Jinn does put a hand on his shoulder. That’s nice.

“I don’t have any interest in setting up a public execution.”

“What kind of a Sith wannabe are you?” the knight asks, tilting his head. Obi-Wan distantly notes that his hair is longer than initially assumed; it’s just held back and curled. “Public executions are a whole thing. It’s like you’re not even trying. Tell me you’ve at least got vague plans to hand me off to a pirates instead of killing me so you can make some comment about me not even being worth the effort.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” du Crion asks, his voice the kind of forced casual level nonsense that shows he’s actually very, very frustrated. Obi-Wan could almost believe that du Crion is as uninterested as he’s pretending to be.

“If I was trying to get myself killed, I’d... pick a fight with the Trade Federation, maybe? I mean, I survived that when I was nine but they’d probably take me more seriously this time.” The knight taps at his chin. “I don’t even know where the actual Sith is, but--”

“There are no more Sith,” du Crion scoffs.

Oh, the knight looks pitying now. Obi-Wan likes that much more than he should. It just really suits the man’s face.

Quin’s going to make so much fun of him later.

“I have fought multiple Sith,” the man says, slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to a child. “My master fought more than that. I lost my arm to a Sith when I was nineteen. You can say they’re gone, but I don’t trust like that.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” du Crion says, rolling his eyes. “It has been a thousand years since the Sith were wiped out. Much as I’d like them to still be around, I’m not going to--”

“Oh!” the knight exclaims. “You’re lying! You do think they’re back, this whole mess is you auditioning.”

Du Crion stares at the man as though he’s lost what few marbles he had. “Excuse me?”

“You want to be the next Sith Apprentice,” the man says, cheerfully unconcerned by the mounting tension in the air. “That’s adorable. Well, no, actually, it’s very bad, both for you and for everyone else, and now it means I can’t just kill you in battle like I was planning because the Jedi are going to need you for information. Blast.”

Du Crion’s eyes widen. It is not in fear, but in incredulity. Obi-Wan thinks that it’s all in the eyebrows and the tight, befuddled smile. “You were planning to kill me, Jedi?”

“I mean... yeah, kinda,” the knight says, shrugging. “Quick and clean option, that.”

This time, Master Jinn is the one that makes a disbelieving noise that both of the bitchy twenty-somethings ignore.

“You’re a Jedi,” du Crion points out, entirely pleasant.

“...yes,” the man says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Technically.”

Du Crion is very much distracted by this. “Technically?”

The man wiggles a hand. “Arguments can be made. I certainly was trained as a Jedi and consider myself to be one. My knighting was according to protocol, and at the Temple. Technically.”

“...but?” Master Jinn prompts.

The knight smiles like he’s got something very spicy in his mouth and is unwilling to admit it’s too much for him. “But nothing! Don’t worry about it. There’s a fight to be had with a Sith wannabe who doesn’t realize he’s not going to measure up.”

“Arrogant,” du Crion accuses.

“No,” the knight immediately says. “You just don’t fight a galactic war without learning which opponents are actually going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan leans into Master Jinn’s side, his legs feeling a little too much like jelly. He whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“As do I, Padawan,” Master Jinn mutters back, and something in Obi-Wan’s heart twists. He’s a padawan! Master Jinn’s actually going to go through with it!

The fight does actually happen, at that point. The knight lights his saber and leaps forward, flashing through Djem So movements without a moment’s hesitation. For all the trash talk and boasting, the fight isn’t actually over very quickly. Du Crion is good, even without having had a chance to spar against a real person since he left the Order. Power flows around him, dark and heavy and sharp in ways that the Force usually isn’t, and the red saber snaps through the air with a speed Obi-Wan can barely track. Xanatos du Crion is, without question, danger incarnate in this moment.

The unknown knight is better.

There are attempts at banter, mostly by the stranger. Du Crion is too focused on the fight to bother responding. Obi-Wan just clings to Master Jinn, trying to stay awake and aware. It’s difficult, given the past few days, and even with help from the Force, he’s flagging.

The way the knight moves is... captivating, though.

(Quinlan’s going to laugh at the top of his lungs, later. Obi-Wan’s going to blush and stutter and bury his face in a pillow, and Bant’s going to pat his back like the amazing friend she is, and Quin’s just going to laugh, like an asshole.)

The fight doesn’t end cleanly. The knight cuts du Crion’s saber in half and, in the same movement, cuts the man’s hand off.

Obi-Wan’s seen too much blood in the last few days for it to shock him, but the smell is... unpleasant.

“I don’t suppose either of you carries Force-nullifying cuffs?” the knight asks, holding his saber to du Crion’s neck with an expression that is amused and satisfied in equal measure.

“No,” Master Jinn says. He seems... very bothered. Well, du Crion was his student once. Obi-Wan can’t imagine he’d be very calm if he had a student that went dark and started killing children. “Was cutting off his hand really necessary?”

“I feel like half my fights end with either someone dying or someone losing a limb,” the knight muses. “Sometimes that limb is my own, even!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if the man is manic or just trying to throw them off their rhythm. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Okay, I have Force-nullifying cuffs of my own,” the man says. “But these things are expensive as hell, and they weren’t paid for by the Order, so just giving them to you isn’t really on the table. That said... my ship kind of got shot down on the way here. If you could give me a ride off-planet--”

“Our ship was also shot down.”

The knight blinks at him, and then kicks du Crion in the hamstring. It’s not a very hard kick, but du Crion shoots him a look of offense that’s probably justified. Getting kicked when one is already down is never a great feeling.

“Stop shooting people,” the knight scolds.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely like he’s having a fever dream.

“Okay, new plan,” the man says. “What kind of ship did you come in?”

“KYL-3400 small transport,” Master Jinn says, with not a little hesitation. “Why?”

The knight grins. “I’m going to cannibalize it for parts.”

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

Jango has known Anakin Skywalker for six years. Many of those years have been spent being yanked into babysitting for the man. For reasons Jango doesn’t feel like examining, this will likely continue.

“You’re late,” he says, as the man in question stumbles out of a battered ship that looks only barely like the one that left three months ago. “I thought you said Bandomeer was a quick fix.”

“Ship got shot down, had to help some Jedi, ran into fucking Onaka on the way back,” Skywalker grouses. “I feel like shit. Where are my kids?”

“Buir says you have to go to medical.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. My kids, Jango.”

“They can visit you in medical.”

“And, what, Mereel’s gonna go there for a debrief?”

“Your debrief is going through me,” Jango says, and doesn’t let himself flinch when Skywalker makes a face. “He’ll check in later.”

“Yeah, no,” Skywalker says, taking a step forward and then swaying with a curse. “Listen, this actually does need to go to Mand’alor direct, not just the Alor-in-training--”

“Please don’t do that with my language,” Jango immediately says. “That’s not--no. ‘Alor-in-training’ isn’t a thing. Don’t do that.”

Skywalker turns on his heel with a frustrated snarl, and Jango’s eyes widen as the stupid tunics the man wears flare out.

“Is that a blaster wound?”

“No.”

“Yes it--for fuck’s sake, Skywalker!” Jango growls and just goes over to grab the taller man by the shoulders and march him to medical. “I’m calling your sister.”

“Don’t tell Shmi, she’s got enough to--”

“I’m calling your sister,” Jango snaps. “And you’re going to deal with it. Ka’ra, do you even think? Is there a brain in that head of yours?”

“I’ve been told my braincell is lonely.”

“I’m going to shove you in a trash compactor, dikut’la jetii,” Jango mutters. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go deal with it on my own?”

Jango strangles his own scream and shoves Skywalker into the nearest examination room. “Fix him!”

The medic looks up, raises a brow, and turns to Skywalker. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” Skywalker shoots back, grinning like they’re sharing battle stories over a drink in a cantina.

The medic--Mirka’lu, he thinks--crosses her arms. “General.”

Oh man, the medics must be angry with him already if they’re already jumping titles like that.

“I’m just a knight--”

“General Skywalker.”

The man in question grimaces. “I maybe got shot during an altercation with some pirates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And... I maybe--maybe--picked a fight with some Hutt enforcers.”

Jango’s going to wring his neck.

Right after he calls Shmi.

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

Komari does her level best to not shift nervously under the judgmental eyes of the man they’re pretty sure is the Mand’alor. Her master’s got the situation under control. She’s just there to observe. They’ve got an entire team--

“Is that your way of telling me that your Order did minimal research on the situation before coming to intervene, and the only reason you bothered to reach out is because one of my men, weeks ago, let you know that Death Watch is setting traps for both my people and yours?”

Komari feels the flare of annoyance from Master Dooku. She doesn’t react, but she can hear the tension when her Master speaks.

“I assure we would not have attacked on Galidraan unless attacked first, or if we’d found solid evidence of the actions we were informed of,” Master Dooku says, quiet and even. “All your messenger did was save us all a little time.”

Mereel smiles thinly. “Saved us all some lives, more like it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, jetiise aren’t the only ones with Force-Sensitives,” the Mand’alor says. “I’ve more than a few under my command. Visions aren’t foolproof, I’m aware, but I’ll be damned if such a warning goes completely ignored.”

Master Dooku makes a low humming noise. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure of what it is that you’re expecting out of our... presence. We are not here to help you claim your presumed throne. We are only here to stop the killings we were told about.”

“I don’t need your help to reunite my people.” Mereel waves a hand, batting the mere suggestion away. “But I’d appreciate the help with taking out the terrorist group that’s actually going out and murdering the helpless, this planet’s farmers and doctors and children. Kyr’tsad isn’t just a thorn in my side, Master Jedi.”

“And what proof do I have that you aren’t just the same kind of monster as you claim they are?” Master Dooku challenges.

It’s a little brazen, considering how dicey these negotiations are. For all that Komari herself doesn’t wince, someone behind her outright hisses in dismay. She agrees with the sentiment.

Mereel just laughs at them. He catches the eye of one of the armored individuals along the wall, human or close to it, and nods to himself.

“Right,” the man says. “Well, we have our own Jedi. Would you like to meet him?”

Master Dooku is immobile, as if carved from stone. The rest of the group is... not.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Master Dooku says, and Komari feels the tension in him wind further through the training bond. There are a million questions to be had here. None of them can be answered without the supposed Jedi.

“Great,” the Mand’alor says. He leans back in his seat and turns to the door. With the press of a button, the door slides open. “Ben!”

A child darts into the room, stops, and bounces on their feet. Probably male, Komari thinks, and very anxious. The child’s eyes dart about the room, taking in every single Jedi in sight. When that gaze lands on Master Dooku, there’s a flash of recognition and... not hate, but distaste. Confused and distant dismay, maybe. The child turns back to Mereel.

“Mand’alor,” the child greets, still bouncing. “Am I needed?”

“Thought I told you this meeting was for grown-ups,” the Mand’alor says.

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to listen in.”

“That door is soundproofed and you know it.”

“So?”

The Mand’alor grins. “Do me a favor and go fetch your dad.”

“Buir’s still sleeping,” Ben says, grave as dirt. It’s a strange expression for such a small child. He can’t be older than eight, and Komari’s pretty sure even that’s a stretch. “Shmi’s gonna be mad if he has to wake up before the bacta’s done.”

“I just need him for negotiations,” Mereel assures the child.

“Aggressive negotiations with a lightsaber?” Ben asks, and Komari nearly chokes.

“No, just regular ones.”

Ben nods sharply, and then turns and runs out.

“That boy...” Mereel mutters, but it’s fond. “Anywa--”

“BUIR!” Ben’s voice echoes from the hall, faint but audible, along with some very loud banging on what is presumably a door. “DAD! WAKE UP, THE COUNT IS HERE!”

The Count? Komari wonders. Even Master Dooku seems surprised.

The question is clearly on more minds than just her own. Mereel raises a brow at Master Dooku and gestures vaguely. “Didn’t know any of you were nobility. You a Count, Master Jedi?”

“No,” Master Dooku says, and before the Mand’alor can press further, he adds, “but if I were to retire from the Order, the title would be mine to inherit. As I have no intentions of retiring, I am not and will not be a Count, but I assume that is what the child is referring to.”

“Ben,” the Mand’alor corrects. He seems pleased with the reasonable answer. “Ylliben Skywalker. I suggest you refer to him by name.”

“You have a fondness for him,” Master Dooku notes.

Mereel shrugs. “No more than any other child, objectively, but his father is one of my more effective allies, and he gets antsy about things. Saying ‘your child’ won’t be a problem, but ‘the child’ is... well.”

The smirk is a challenge that Komari doesn’t feel ready to meet. She’s glad it’s not hers to handle.

“Why do you ‘have’ a Jedi?” Master Dooku asks, pushing the conversation back to the point Komari’s sure he was initially aiming for.

“Found him in a snowstorm, brought him inside,” Mereel says, grinning. “And then he refused to leave, the shabuir. Troublesome man, like you wouldn’t believe, but useful.”

“Like a feral tooka,” someone behind Komari mutters. She feels a part of her soul die.

You can’t just say that in front of the Mand’alor! she screeches in the depths of her mind, despairing.

“Exactly,” Mereel agrees with a laugh. “Skywalker’s a feral tooka.”

Komari dies a little more.

“Talkin’ shit about me, Mereel?”

...oh no.

This one’s pretty.

The man is tall, dressed almost entirely in black, and looks like shit.

“You look like you got run over by a herd of bantha,” the Mand’alor notes.

“I got back less than a day ago,” Skywalker growls out. He leans against the wall behind the Mand’alor’s desk. He folds his arms. He glowers around the room. “The kriff is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Master Dooku,” the man in question says, a little pained. “As I informed Mand’alor Mereel, I may technically have claim to that title, but I am a Jedi. So long as I remain a Jedi, the title isn’t actually mine.”

Skywalker makes a face, and then shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. Jaster, what the hell do you need from me?”

“Well, some manners would be nice.”

“I got shot and am putting myself in a position to get yelled at by baar’ur Mirka’lu for coming here when I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” Skywalker growls out. He kicks Mereel’s chair, glaring at the back of the man’s head. “You’re lucky I put on pants.”

Mereel seems unbothered by this statement or treatment.

Komari thinks her eyes may currently be the size of dinner plates.

“You’re the one from Bandomeer.”

Skywalker’s head snaps up to focus his gaze on Master Dooku. “Say what?”

“You’re the one my former Padawan encountered on Bandomeer,” Master Dooku says, something satisfied in his tone. “He said you refused to give a name, but the physical description does match.”

“Oh, lovely, Jinn’s been gossiping,” Skywalker mutters. “That’s just--”

“General Skywalker,” Mereel says, voice finally slipping to something more stern than amused. “If you could please focus.”

Skywalker rolls his eyes and mutters something about painkillers.

“Buir?”

Skywalker’s head tilts to the side, and he holds one arm out to the side. The kid from before--Ben--darts in to cling to the man’s side. A slightly taller Togruta follows in and ducks in under his other arm. Both children keep a wary gaze fixed on the same person, and their adult...

Every look from this man is a new challenge to Master Dooku.

“They’re yours?”

That is the exact question Komari was hoping her master wouldn’t ask.

“We’re in Mandalorian territory,” Skywalker says. “They’re Force-Sensitive orphans with an incredible amount of potential. If I didn’t claim them, someone else would have.”

It’s not an airtight justification--the man could have just sent them to the Temple--but the air around him is roiling with aggression. This man does not like Master Dooku, and is more than a shade protective of these--his--children. Komari shifts her weight and worries as the pregnant silence grows heavier.

“As you say,” Master Dooku allows, and some of the bowstring-tight tension in the room loosens, drains away like foul bathwater. “If I may... I was unaware you were a General, nor that Mandalore had a standing army large enough for such a position.”

“He’s not,” Mereel says. “Used to be, won’t tell me where. It’s not my business, or yours. Title’s a holdover from whatever war he was fighting before we got him.”

Komari is not the only person whose heart drops as Master Dooku says, “Qui-Gon claimed that the rogue knight he’d met on Bandomeer mentioned a galactic war against the Sith.”

Mereel blinks, and then turns his seat around to look at Skywalker. The other Mandalorians look at Skywalker. Every single Jedi also looks at Skywalker.

The Togruta child sticks her tongue out at Master Dooku.

“I did say that,” Skywalker says. “What of it?”

“You know, when I said I didn’t care what fight you were running that turned you into a soldier, I kind of assumed it was something on the level of, say, a system-wide civil war,” Mereel drawls. “Not galactic Force nonsense.”

Skywalker shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Because you’ll lie?”

“No, I’m just going to be really annoying about it,” Skywalker tells him. The Togruta giggles and shoves her face into his side. “Or, hell, I’ll let Ben do it. We both know he can talk circles around basically everyone in this room.”

“Skywalker.”

“Mereel.”

The two hold gazes for a moment that lasts just a little too long, and then Mereel breaks it off. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course, Mand’alor,” Skywalker says, with a grim sort of smile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Mereel doesn’t seem particularly impressed by that.

Komari wonders if anyone else remembers that Skywalker was supposed to be here to make negotiations easier.

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

Yan Dooku is having a Day.

He’s not entirely sure whom to blame for this mess. Perhaps Yoda, for suggesting he handle this mission. Perhaps the governor of Galidraan, who decided collaborating with terrorists for his own gain was a good idea. Perhaps Jaster Mereel, whose influence and power is enough that Yan needs to tread carefully. Perhaps Qui-Gon, for giving him just enough information about Skywalker to cause some drama.

Perhaps Skywalker for being a recalcitrant, ornery bastard who delights in Yan’s suffering.

(One of the Mandalorians calls him that to his face, and Skywalker informs the man that “my mother always told me I didn’t have a father,” and stares until the Mando stammers out an apology and turns on his heel.)

(The smirk on Skywalker’s face is certainly informative.)

“Hi.”

Yan looks up from the datapad he’s been using to try and punch out a report, for all that he can’t find the words he needs, and sees the Togruta youngling from Skywalker’s side hanging upside-down from a ventilation grate.

He blinks evenly at her. “Good afternoon. Is that your normal manner of traversing the building?”

“Yeah, when Jan-Jan isn’t yelling at me about it,” she says, and drops from the ceiling. Seemingly without paying attention, she directs the grate itself back into place with the Force, screws reattaching themselves with only the slightest whisper. She’s done this many, many times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

“Jango Fett,” she clarifies. “Ad be Mand’alor.”

Child of the king.

He does remember that much from the briefing.

“I see,” Yan says, rather than try to tackle whatever the usage of such a nickname implies. “I’m afraid nobody’s seen fit to introduce you, youngling.”

“I’m Sokanth Skywalker, but most people call me Soka,” she says, with a bouncing, shallow bow. Full of energy, this one. “I’m eight.”

“The General is your father, then?”

“Mm-hm! He adopted me when I was almost two,” she says, and climbs up onto the bench. She wraps her arms around her knees and beams up. “Ben was still a baby, and we didn’t go get Shmi until a few months later when Skyguy could afford it.”

“Skyguy?” Yan prompts.

“My dad,” she explains, head tilting a little as she studies his reaction. “I... I’ve always called him Skyguy. He took care of me before he adopted me, for at least a year. He says I called him Skyguy when I first started talking, back then, and then he didn’t make me stop when he adopted me.”

“I see,” Yan says. “Does your father know you’re speaking with me?”

“Probably.”

“And would he approve?” Yan hints as heavily as he can. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s because we’ve all seen what you could be,” she says. “But you’re not the Count yet, so it’s okay.”

Information. “Ah. Visions, then. That would explain some things.”

“Ben gets them the most,” she keeps talking. “But it’s not just that. It’s like... patterns. The Sith are going to target you, because they’re going to think you’re worth corrupting.”

“And you’ve seen enough Sith to know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Visions are not foolproof,” he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. He’s not used to interacting with children of this age, and this one comes with a father in the Mand’alor’s confidence, someone he can’t afford to irritate by making a daughter cry. “I have a friend who is very prone to visions, and some come true, some don’t, and others--”

“Are self-fulfilling,” Sokanth finishes for him. “I know that. But my dad’s actually fought Sith, y’know. The guy who cut off my dad’s arm used to be a Jedi Master, like you, and he was all fancy-schmancy and a history nerd for Sith stuff, and didn’t like the Council or their decisions very much. Like you.”

That’s... very personal.

“A surface-level similarity is not enough to make the claim that I am to become a Sith,” he says.

She blinks at him, eyes too large for a face that’s so near to human in bone-structure. It’s unnerving. “Whether or not you Fall is your choice, Count. All I can tell you is that you are the kind of person they look to groom... if only as a pawn.”

The words are too old for a girl her size.

“You speak as if you’ve faced the Sith yourself,” Yan says, well aware now that he needs to tread carefully, but... “You’re too young to go out into the field. I can’t imagine your father would allow a child like yourself to go up against someone that dangerous.”

She blinks those too large eyes, and tilts her head in the other direction, and then smiles. “You care. That’s good. Keep that compassion, Count.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re evading the question.”

Sokanth giggles. “Maybe. Buir doesn’t like us talking about it much. It makes him sad, ‘cuz he can’t help us not hurt, and a lot of it is really scary. It’s like... my memories are too big for my head. I don’t get a lot of visions, but I get a lot of dreams of things that happened that I’m not alive for. And buir does remember those things happening, so it’s true, and it happened, but I only... sort of remember it, and when I think about it too hard, it hurts my head. Or I get nightmares about it, and I don’t like those. Ben’s got it worse, though. He has more to fight.”

It’s a lot of information.

It’s confusing information.

It’s... possibly information that the General has asked her to feed him for reasons he can’t even begin to guess at.

“In this war your father fought,” Yan asks, “were you a soldier as well?”

“Commander,” she corrects, voice soft. “That’s what the dreams call me, before they start screaming.”

“How old are you really?” He asks, before he can quite stop himself.

She laughs, suddenly bright again. “I’m as old as I look. I’m eight. Just because the Force gives me memories I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t a kid. Sometimes Ben tries to act older than he is ‘cuz of the memories, y’know. Buir gets sad whenever he does that, ‘cuz he thinks we deserve to be kids before the galaxy goes to hell again.”

“He’s sure of such a thing?”

“It always does,” she says, with the air of someone who isn’t sure how their conversation partner could be quite that dense. Her voice takes on a sing-song cadence, like she’s telling a fable instead of a philosophy. “War always comes eventually. Not every sentient is selfish, but enough are, and they tend to be the ones that claw their way to the top. The rich and powerful will take and take and take, and then, when there’s nothing left, they will use their living stepping stones to tear each other apart. All we can do is be ready to end it as quickly as possible once it comes.”

Yan lets the claim sit for a long, quiet minute. “Did your father tell you that?”

“No,” she says. “Ben did.”

The six-year-old.

“He has a way with words,” Yan manages.

“Sometimes he uses his stuffed animals to host courtroom dramas,” she says. “He makes me look up the right laws so it can be procedurally accurate, ‘cuz he’s a nerd but so am I, and it makes Skyguy happy when he sees us playing like that instead of just doing saber forms and stuff.”

Yan has... no idea what to do with that. “I wouldn’t normally call courtroom dramas a normal children’s activity.”

“Yeah, but Ben’s a nerd,” she says, as if that’s all that needs to be said. Maybe, for her, it is. “And there’s only so much time I’m allowed to spend hunting.”

Right. Togruta.

“And what was your father doing at that age?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that,” she says immediately. “Because it’s very private and he and Shmi get upset if we bring it up, ‘cuz of trauma and stuff.”

Shmi. The... sister, he thinks. People seem to be unclear on that. He’s heard a few refer to the teenager as just “one of Skywalker’s,” so that’s something to consider. She’s near-perfectly halfway between the children and the General, in terms of age, so it’s a little ambiguous where she fits.

That said, he’s been in a lot of places in his time as a Jedi Master. It’s taken him a little longer than it should have to realize, but he thinks he’s got at least part of the puzzle.

Skywalker’s a slave name. Tatooine, specifically.

It’s not confirmation, really, but...

Well. He thinks it’s better he doesn’t dig, on that subject.

“Hey,” Sokanth says, tugging at his sleeve. “Can I ask ya something?”

“I cannot promise an answer, but you may ask.”

“Can you spar with Skyguy? I wanna see who wins.”

#Disaster Lineage #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Obi Wan Kenobi #Qui Gon Jinn #Count Dooku #Yan Dooku #Ben Kenobi #Jaster Mereel #Xanatos du Crion #Jango Fett #Komari Vosa #time travel #de aging #age shifting #family #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #500 notes

894 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

The Summer Before College | Marcus Moreno x reader

summary: just because you got some good scholarships doesn't mean you couldn’t use some extra cash. luckily, babysitting for a family friend has been a steady side gig for you. rule number one of babysitting: don't let your wandering eye rest for too long on the hot single dad.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut (dub con elements? but she’s into it lol don’t worry), age gap (he’s 40-something, reader’s 18/19), loss of virginity, pussy spanking (like, once), lots of petnames and ‘good girl’s, not a dark fic but kinda pushing it, not explicitly dad's best friend trope but it has that energy and I've decided that he is in fact friends with the reader's dad

a/n: this has basically nothing to do with the movie. he’s just a hot dad. don’t overthink it.

You knew the walk to the Moreno's by now: down two blocks from your house, take a right at San Vicente, a left on Birch, a few houses down and you're there. With your full backpack weighing on your shoulders it felt longer than usual, but you made it anyways and knocked on the front door.

"It's open!" a voice called from inside, and you turned the knob and swung the door open.

You almost regretted wearing your tiniest jean shorts, from the way Mr. Moreno did a double take when you walked in. But hey, it was the middle of summer and he would never look at you like that— you were just his daughter's babysitter, ever since you were sixteen; he was probably just surprised to see that you were wearing something other than your school uniform. Maybe some part of you wished he would look at you like that…

Missy called your name, tearing you from your thoughts, jumping up when she saw you and beaming as she rushed to give you a hug. "Hey!" you greeted in return.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Mr. Moreno nodded in your general direction, apparently already dressed for whatever it was he had to do, slipping on his jacket from where it hung on a hook by the door. "She's already had dinner, so just homework and bedtime," he explained to you as you nodded dutifully.

"Bedtime? Dad, I'm not a little kid anymore," Missy rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you're a big kid and you need to be asleep by 10. It's a school night."

She huffed but didn't protest, and you joined her on the couch because she wanted to show you some drawings she’d done earlier that day. "Bye, Dad!" Missy waved when he left, and he turned back quickly to blow a kiss in her direction.

Once you helped her finish her homework (frankly, you didn't have to do that much— she's a smart kid), the two of you enjoyed some video games before you finally got her to start getting ready for bed.

It was cute how confident Missy was that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, only for her to be snoring within five minutes of her head hitting the pillow. You were envious of how easily she could sleep; you could kill an hour just tossing and turning and readjusting your blanket. But that wasn’t going to be your problem tonight: you weren’t going to sleep yet, until the man of the house returned, meaning all you had to do was wait.

Even in summer, having already graduated, you had plenty of work to do while you waited for Mr. Moreno. Knowing what classes you had in the fall, you bought your textbooks a bit early and planned on reading them all before the semester began. You’d already gotten through Philosophy Through the Ages and now you continued from where you left off in the middle of Introductory Physics.

What surprised you was that you had time to finish that one, too. You had anticipated that Mr. Moreno would be back before you made it to the module on fluid dynamics, but you reached the index at a quarter past midnight and he was still gone. You shrugged and picked up the next one— A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry— hoping he was alright and that he’d be back soon.

You had to make yourself some coffee when 1 a.m. rolled around; tired, anxious, and distracted, you realized this was probably not the best state to be attempting to study in, but you didn’t feel like you had a choice. You didn’t want to fall asleep here, you’d promised to watch Missy and you couldn’t exactly do that while asleep… plus, he would probably be back any minute now. Sure, you’d been saying that to yourself for nearly an hour and a half now, but it was more true than ever.

It was another hour and a half, though, until his car pulled into the driveway and he pushed through the front door, prompting you to set aside your textbook.

“Good evening,” you greeted, standing up. He looked a little disheveled— but it worked for him, with that curly hair all messed up in just the right way. Maybe it was just that it was late or that it was the rare time you saw him without Missy around, but there was a darkness about him now, not sinister so much as just purely intimidating. It was like you hadn’t really taken him seriously before, and now you were appreciating that you should have.

“She’s asleep?” he assumed, glancing over to the hallway which his daughter’s bedroom was positioned at the end of before slipping his jacket off and hanging it by the door.

“It’s half past two, so… I really hope so,” you chuckled.

“Shit, is it that late already?” he groaned, glancing at his watch.

“Did you not notice?”

“I.. got carried away.”

You didn’t want to know what he’d been out so late for. It was none of your business, and you figured you were better off without any secrets to keep— you’d never been so good at keeping secrets, even your own.

“Been studying this whole time?” he noticed as he glanced at the textbooks on the couch, grinning a little. It sort of felt like he was mocking you, and it made your cheeks warm as you nodded. “What a good girl.”

That made a cold tingle crawl up your spine. Sure, other students had called you that before, and plenty of your teachers, but when he said it, like that… it felt entirely new. “I try,” you managed to respond eventually.

“You’ll do well in college, I bet.”

“You think so?” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he nodded confidently. There was something comforting about the way he smiled at you; yet, there was something predatory about the way his eyes glanced down your body and back up slowly.

As you turned and bent over to pick up your textbooks off the couch, you could tell that he had stepped closer; you could just barely hear the soft noise of his footsteps on his carpet, just barely feel the warmth of him behind you, just barely pick up on the slow, thoughtful breath he took in and out through his nose.

Standing back up slowly, you felt him do it again, right against your neck.

“M-Mr. Moreno,” you stammered, shivering when his hands gripped you on either arm. Not a tight grip, per se, but one that made his strength obvious.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he breathed. “Not when we’re alone.”

Not that you really had any plan on how to respond to that, but if you had, it would've been forgotten as his lips brushed over your neck, leaving teasing kisses in a trail over your pulse.

"Wait—" you blurted out instinctively when his hands moved to your waist, cut off by your own shaky sigh and suppressed moan. “What if she wakes up?” you questioned anxiously, glancing down the hallway and hoping you wouldn’t find Missy there, watching her dad feeling you up— and you letting him, not just that but enjoying it. Of course, the hallway was deserted, but you couldn’t feel certain it would stay that way.

“She won’t,” he assured. “Not if you can be a good girl and stay quiet.”

You made a little whimpering noise as you wondered if you could. You didn’t know how, really; you were good at being quiet when you were alone, but being alone had never felt like this. Forbidden, sexy, terrifyingly wonderful… nothing had ever felt like this.

“Do you want me to stop?” he purred, sounding like he already knew the answer.

“No,” you answered a little too quickly, “please… please don’t stop.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grinned. “Tell me what you do want.”

“I want…” you sighed and started over again, willing yourself to speak your thoughts aloud even though they made a pit of guilt sink in your stomach. "I want you to make me feel good."

You knew it was a sort of childish way of putting it, even before he laughed at your statement, but you weren't sure what else to say. "Yeah? I can do that," he decided. "But I can make you feel good in so many ways…" he trailed off as his right hand slipped lower and lower, finally landing between your legs as you gasped. Two fingers slid over the crotch of your shorts, and somehow he managed to bump against something that made electricity shoot up your spine and your hips buck into his touch of their own accord. You felt his smile widen as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin of your neck. "You'll have to be more specific," he finally finished. "How do you want me to make you feel good?"

"Inside me," you whined, "I want you inside me."

There was a sudden shift as it seemed like the control he had over you suddenly did not extend to himself; he growled a bit and pulled you into him, and you could feel the hard shape of his cock, through his trousers and your shorts. You could feel it pressed just above your ass and it made you squirm against his embrace. "Feel what you do to me?" he grunted, and you nodded quickly. "Good."

He spun you around quickly, pulling you close to him and burning right through you with those brown eyes darker than ever, but just as you thought he might kiss you, he spoke instead.

“My bedroom’s upstairs,” he informed you quietly.

You just nodded, following him as he pulled you along through the house, up the stairs and past the door to the master bedroom of the house.

Now that you hadn’t seen it coming, of course, was when he chose to grab you and kiss you suddenly. It was rough and passionate and nothing like you could've imagined; you were certain you'd never been kissed like this, like he needed to kiss you more than he needed anything.

Your arms slipped around his neck as he pushed you back against the wall, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he kicked the door shut behind the two of you. Little moans were muffled by the kiss— and it took you a minute to realize they were yours. You didn’t even sound like yourself; probably because you’d never felt like this before, and therefore had never had any reason to sound like this.

You could feel his cock between your legs, though unfortunately not in the way you wanted. Still, it drove you wild to have him so close like this, to try to imagine how the thick shape you were feeling would ever fit inside you.

His hands were so strong and thick that you worried they’d stretch out your tank top just by reaching under it— well, that is you would have worried about that if you could think about anything else but his hands reaching under your tank top. He didn’t even waste his time touching you over your bra, instead making quick work of the clasps with one hand before coming back to grope one breast in his palm, then the other. Just that was enough to make you run your fingers into his hair, but a little pinch to your raised nipple made your fists tighten and pull— you didn’t mean to, and you were just about to feel bad about it until he growled a little. It seemed like a growl of approval, considering he pinched your nipples harder to make you do it again.

“Feels good?” he asked with annoying (yet arousing) confidence.

“S-so good,” you slurred, stumbling over your words as you tried to think as clearly as possible through the thick haze of pleasure clouding your mind.

As he guided you to set your legs down and unhook your arms from around his neck, you felt a bit like a doll being posed; when he pulled your top over your head and your bra from your arms, you felt like a doll being undressed. You sort of didn’t mind it; you were happy to let him take the lead, confident he knew at least 100% more about this than you did.

He knelt down before you as he roughly pulled at your tight jean shorts, his knuckles nearly bruising your hips as he stripped you. Your underwear were not the pair you would’ve worn if you had known somebody was going to see them, just a plain dark blue color that made you feel so drab as he came face-to-face with them. He didn’t seem to mind much, grinning up at you as he slipped his fingers under them and pulled them down, too. Your face was so hot and yet your legs were breaking out into goosebumps simultaneously, and a shiver rolled up your body when he growled at the sight of your body laid bare for him. Before you could even process it, he stood up and grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed and spreading your legs.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praised with a smile that made you feel a little light-headed, swirling a few fingers over your swollen button until pulling them back to spank you there— it wasn’t even that hard, but you yelped and jolted and he laughed darkly. “So sensitive,” he purred, his words walking a fine line between a compliment and a taunt, “so wet.”

Another finger slipping down to your entrance proved him right, your arousal plentiful as his touch glided through your folds.

Suddenly overcome with a moment of bravery, you sat up and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, making him smile down at you. “Let me help you,” he offered as he worked the buttons instead, freeing you to try to open his belt. “Look at you, acting so desperate…”

At this point, you weren’t even offended by that; you wanted him so bad that you didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed by it anymore.

He slipped the shirt off of his shoulders just as you finished opening the belt. He pushed your hands away, and now you could see the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you down by your wrists. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, señorita,” he purred.

Why did feeling powerless to him turn you on so much? There was no real fear to it— you knew and trusted him, you would never have developed your misguided crush on him if you didn’t— and yet there was a strong edge of uncertainty as he kissed your neck and moved down your chest, between your breasts before he stopped to kiss those, too.

“Oh god,” you breathed, and he smiled against your skin before sitting up and staring down at you. It wasn’t apparent if it was distant streetlights or the moonlight shining in through the window, but either way it cast a cold blue light into the room that reflected as a glimmer in his eyes.

“Not gonna make you wait any longer,” he promised in a low voice, reaching down to push his unbuttoned belt and trousers to his thighs— those thick, muscular thighs that made your lip catch between your teeth.

Your breath caught, too, but in your lungs this time as his cock was exposed: thick, swollen, veiny… it looked picturesque, if thoroughly intimidating. You couldn’t figure out if you wanted to move towards it or sheepishly crawl away.

"Why do you look scared?" he asked, his voice so much deeper than you remembered it from before, even if there was genuine concern somewhere in his tone.

"Is it gonna hurt?" you asked instead of answering.

"Baby…" he sighed huskily, "are you a virgin?"

You bit your lip and looked away, irritated that you hadn't managed to hide your fear enough to keep your secret.

He sighed, your silence apparently answer enough.

"Do you not want to, anymore?" you asked anxiously, afraid you had completely killed the mood. Part of the reason it'd taken you this long to lose it was specifically because people seemed intimidated by the idea of being your first.

"No, no, I— no," he asserted sternly. "I just need to… change my approach, slightly.”

He leaned down a bit, hovering over you as he trailed his hand up your leg, rubbing the inside of your thigh before finally drawing circles over your aching clit with his thumb, causing you to shiver and moan quietly.

“And, to answer your question, it won’t hurt. Not if I get you good and ready for me,” he explained, pushing just one finger into you— and even that small of a stimulation made your eyes flutter shut, with his fingers being so much thicker and stronger than yours.

The second made your fists clench around the satin-y sheets beneath you. You didn’t dare open your eyes, knowing you’d find him staring down at you and you weren’t ready for that, weren’t ready to see his reaction to your body in such a vulnerable state. You could hear his reaction, though, with the rough groans and satisfied sighs he let out as he pumped his fingers into you.

When three fingers filled you, your eyes shot open. “Fuck!” you yelped.

He smiled but slowed down, apparently taking some pity on you— but not enough to stop him from pressing down harder on your clit.

Just when you figured he’d warmed you up enough and he’d fuck you like he promised, he slid lower and the bed and bent down, adding his tongue into the mix with his fingers. It was… overwhelming, and hot, not just psychologically but literally: it was physically hot, as in temperature. How was his mouth so warm against you, and his fingers so warm inside you?

When he latched his lips around your clit and sucked on it, you saw stars. Energy gathered in your gut and burned so bright that you thought you might explode. Really, it was more like an implosion as the coil inside you snapped and your thighs accidentally clamped down on his hand. It didn’t faze him though, it didn’t even slow him down as he moaned a little against you and curled his fingers even harder. You didn’t remember reaching down to grab his head, you just felt his hair between your fingers as you pulled it roughly, gasping his name.

When he did stop, sitting up and wiping his face with the back of his hand, you just looked back up at him as you caught your breath. He laughed, and you realized you were gawking unintentionally.

“I’m guessing you’ve never come like that before?” he ventured. You didn’t know if ‘like that’ meant from oral or just so suddenly and intensely, but it was true either way so you nodded.

When he reached down to grip his cock with the same hand still wet with your slick, you held your breath without realizing it. “Please put it in me,” you whimpered.

“I will,” he assured as he guided the head of it through your slick folds, stopping to tease your clit as you jolted from the contact on the sensitive nerves. Something surreal and indescribable tingled under your skin— you could hardly believe that this was happening, let alone with him, with Mr. Moreno. Or, Marcus. You were on a first-name basis by now, surely.

He pushed forward in one smooth, slow stroke until he was all the way inside you, his body filling yours to the brim as you quivered from the sensation of being stretched so wide.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked roughly.

“...almost,” you answered hesitantly, unsure how to describe the sensations you were feeling; not exactly pain, but not not pain. The favorite pain you’d ever felt in your life, easily.

He chuckled as he gripped your hips a little tighter. "I'm gonna move now," he announced. You nodded your approval, sighing shakily as he pulled his hips back and you felt the intoxicating friction of his cock against your walls.

"Ffffuck," you whimpered, gasping when he slammed his hips forward again. Your eyes rolled back in your head when he pushed as deep into you as he could with each thrust, still measured but not exactly gentle as he set a pace faster than you’d prepared for. But it was good, god it was so fucking good you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. "Marcus," you sighed, barely recognizing your own voice when it was heavy with need and arousal like this.

He grinned when he heard his name cross your lips, grinding his hips against yours for emphasis until you were forced to arch your back. "You like it rough, don't ya, honey?"

You nodded, confident that you liked it however he was doing it.

"Fuck, I knew it. Knew as soon as I saw you."

Before you could wonder what he meant by that, he was already moving fast enough to make your head spin. You had never had anything so deep inside you before, and when he pushed your legs up and back against your chest, you had no choice but to scream with pleasure.

Just before you reached the peak of it though, his hand clamped down over your mouth to muffle the sound. "Gotta be quiet," he reminded you through his teeth before relaxing his hand a bit so you could still be heard somewhat

"I can't," you whined, "Marcus, please, I can't stay quiet—"

"You have to."

"Feels too good," you whimpered your excuse. "F-fuck, slow down, I won't be able to stop it—"

He cut you off with a kiss, slow yet dominating, and your moans were muffled by his lips. You still sounded so loud in your own head, but at least your cries weren't echoing against the walls of his room anymore.

What was echoing were the sounds of skin slapping on skin as he pounded into you, roughly finding every delicate spot within you and making the backs of your thighs sore as his hips slammed into them. It forced your hands to grip at his muscular shoulders and your nails to dig into the skin there. You hoped there would be little half-moon shaped marks there tomorrow, maybe one would even scar so he'd have your mark on his body forever; after all, he'd carved a permanent space in your body by taking your virginity. Even if you couldn't dream of being as special to him as he was to you, you liked the idea of giving him something that he couldn't give back.

That energy was building again, different from before but no less powerful and persistent. "I'm gonna— fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm so close," you whispered.

“Yeah? Go ahead," he encouraged. "I wanna see you fall apart just for me, wanna feel you come around my cock."

You hadn't realized he'd be able to feel it, and the idea of that was so filthily beautiful that it pushed you over the edge, your whole body tensing up in sudden waves of pleasure so intense that it made your eyes water.

Through the static filling your ears, you heard his low, husky voice encouraging you: "Good girl, just like that, don't fucking stop."

You'd always been powerless to his voice, but this was another level. It was as if your body understood and met his demands, continuing to ride the peak of your sensation so long as he growled in your ear just right.

It was much too tender, the way he brushed the stray hair away from your face, the way he kissed your slack mouth again, the way he held you tighter and mumbled more praises to you. It was more romantic than it had any right to be, and you had to bite back the words of affection threatening to spill out of your mouth.

I love you, you wanted to tell him, I've loved you for years, but it was beyond inappropriate. You didn't want to play the role of the innocent virgin who thinks sex means being in love and lets herself catch feelings for the older man who is just taking what he wants and, at best, doing her a favor so she doesn't have to go off to college and get her cherry popped there. Maybe that was accurate, but that wasn't who you wanted to be.

You wanted to be sexy, and mature, and in control. You wanted to play a new rule, one that still felt foreign and yet closer than ever. So you wrapped your legs around his hips and held him deeper in you, smiling with a little growl of your own.

"I want you to come inside me," you informed him with a purr, loving the little moment of shock that passed over his face before he groaned, fucking you a little faster and more erratically.

"Fuck, really?" he rasped.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and nodded.

"You're on the pill?"

Another nod, this one finished off with a shiver as you wondered how much more of this your body could take.

He grinned and picked up the pace again, his moans getting a little louder with each movement. "Fuck, I'm gonna come— gonna fill up your tight little pussy, is that what you want?"

You nodded feverishly, already close to the edge again as you imagined what it would be like to have his come in you for the rest of the night. Was he going to make you walk home with it leaking out from between your legs? Why did that idea make your inner muscles involuntarily tighten around him?

With a string of curses and a grip on your thigh tight enough to bruise, he reached his own peak and you felt his cock flex and pulse inside you, a new warmth filling your gut from the inside out.

It's hard to say how long the two of you stayed like that, since you were busy basking in the afterglow (and, less enjoyably, worrying about the consequences that tomorrow morning would bring).

When he pulled out and collapsed beside you, you wondered if you should get up and get dressed.

"Stay here tonight," he instructed you, as if somehow a response to your internal thought. "Your folks won't freak out if you're out all night, right?"

"I'll just tell them I slept over at your place," you shrugged. With a confused look from him, you clarified: "on the couch."

"Right," he nodded as he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you closer, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck. In this way and in so many others, it was how you expected (and hoped) losing your virginity would go: someone you trust and who cares about you, with enough attention on you that you didn't feel much pain, plus cuddling afterwards. But, in even more ways, it was unlike what you'd ever thought possible: it felt incredible and you came so hard that your ears were still kind of ringing, you didn't use a condom or even think to mention it, and finally— and most absurdly— it was with Marcus fucking Moreno.

Frankly, considering his performance earlier, "fucking" very well could be his middle name.

"You should sit for me again next week," he suggested quietly.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

"No," he grinned, "but I'll be sure to come back real late, after she's gone to bed, so I can show you all the other ways I can make you feel good."

"H-how many ways are there?!"

He just laughed, pulling you closer and placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Oh, sweetheart… so smart, but so innocent. We can fix that.”

You weren’t sure entirely which of those two things he intended on fixing.

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x y/n #pedro pascal x reader

2K notes · View notes

soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

Harley's Plea for Help ch. 6

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6-- you are here

Yet another night of barely any sleep, but this time Marinette didn’t have the coffee-angel Red Robin at her rescue. No, instead she had to go completely uncaffeinated until she and her class got to Wayne Enterprises. Madame Mendelieve could only sigh as she watched Marinette scamper off to the café as soon as they made it past the initial security of the building. A couple of her classmates chuckled or snorted at her familiar behavior.

It was the same barista at the register as before, but this time Marinette felt too tired to properly order or be adventurous in looking for new flavors.

“I feel like death. I don’t care if it tastes like pure bean oil today. Flavors will take away from the amount of coffee you can shove in one cup, right?”

The poor barista blinked, eyeing the deep bags forming under the poor girl’s eyes. She sighed. “I had hope yesterday that you were just a normal caffeine addict. Now I see we actually have a second Mister Drake,” she said it as if she was mourning at Marinette’s grave before poking a few buttons on her touchscreen order station and turning her head. “One Insomniac CEO, but not for the boss!” She called out. The barista making the drinks paused for a second with wide eyes.

“We have another one?!” He asked, shocked. “Piece of advice?” He turned to Marinette. “Get some sleep.”

“Sleep is for the dead,” Marinette deadpanned back. “I got stuff I need to do today.”

The guy just shook his head and sighed, making the drink as Marinette paid and left a good tip. The drink came out fairly quickly, and everyone behind the counter stopped for a moment to stare as she gulped down the hot drink with no concern for her tongue or throat. A satisfied sound left her as she finally pulled away from the cup.

“This is really good!” She complimented, turning to the Baristas with a still-tired smile. It would take a minute or two for the coffee to have full effect, but she already felt better. “A little too bitter for my usual tastes, but perfect for days like today. Thanks!” She waved at them before turning around and seeing that her class was already gone again. Before she could fully process that though, a hand slapped down onto her head and ruffled her hair.

Surprised (really, not a lot of people could sneak up on her anymore. Just how tired was she?) she let out a high pitched squeal.

“You’re a good kid,” the soft, slightly scratchy voice that said that made Marinette’s shoulders drop and eyes widen. Tilting her head back she was greeted with the widely-grinning face of Jason Todd. He was once again in the uniform of a security guard.

“Wha— Uh,” Marinette couldn’t quite find the right words right away. She was too stunned. Jason just chuckled, jerking his head to indicate the same door her class had gone through the day before and leading the way over there. Marinette scrambled to catch up.

Once they were far away enough from prying eyes and ears, Marinette cleared her throat.

“Um,” she started. “Did… I mean, do you..?”

“Yeah, our mutual friends had a chat with me last night,” he confirmed casually. He sent her a meaningful look even though his grin never left his face. “Like I said; you’re a good kid. And I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re not responsible for the things your parents have done, you know.”

The girl at his side hummed noncommittally, not fully convinced but also not wanting to argue.

“You’re not,” he repeated firmly, stopping in the middle of the side-hallway. They could see her class at the other end getting checked in, but didn’t make a move to join them yet. “I mean it. The stuff that happened to me, none of that was you. Hell, you were a little kid back then. And there’s nothing you could have done to stop it, either. I’m not gonna hold anything against you just because you’re his child. You didn’t ask to be,” he shrugged. “Besides, I get it. Biological relation doesn’t equal family. Trust me,” his grin was gone and a tired one replaced it. “I know that better than most people.”

The pigtailed girl could only gulp, taking a deep breath as she forced down the tears that wanted to bubble up. She had had this conversation with Adrien a few times, but even then she had been convinced that he just didn’t understand. He was just being nice. But this— Jason’s words were more valuable than gold to her. He had no reason to be nice, so it had to be at least partially sincere.

“Thanks,” she whispered once she was positive she wasn’t going to break. She lifted her cup up and took a long sip of her coffee. The slight burn against her tongue helped ground her. “That means more than you know.”

Jason chuckled. “Nah. The fact that you stood up for me to the Bat,” his grin returned to his face full blast, making dimples appear on his cheeks. “Now that, you have no idea how much that means to me. You must have some serious guts to lecture that guy, too. Is it too late to adopt you for myself?”

That tore a quick laugh out of her, making her classmate’s head whip over to the opposite end of the hallway where she and Jason were. She quickly quieted herself, but her eyes danced with amusement as she looked up at Jason. “You’re too young to be my parent anyway, but I wouldn’t say no to a brother,” she joked. Jason’s eyes sparkled.

“Good, exactly what I was aiming for!” He slipped a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. “That’s my number. Call me if you ever need anything, got it?” He turned to resume leading her back to her class and she quickly slipped the paper into her pocket before anyone saw and got the wrong idea. “And I mean anything.”

Marinette just smiled and nodded. By then, they were close enough for Alya to smirk and ask; “What took ya so long, girl?”

“Oh,” Marinette shuffled a little on her feet before an observation gave her a last minute idea and she straightened up with a wide smile. “We just got distracted talking about motorcycles!”

Jason’s eyebrows raised for a quick second before he settled his expression again and played along. He had figured that not many people knew about her biological family. That part made sense. But she had been a total mess just the day before when she had tried to lie about Paris’ little villain problem in front of Bruce. How was she able to actually come up with a good lie this time around, when she had been just as much put on the spot? He wondered to himself about what was different about this situation to allow her to lie more easily. Maybe Bruce not being there was part of it— she seemed easily flustered by famous people.

Think of the devil, because no sooner had that thought finished developing in Jason’s mind before Bruce Wayne walked into the hallway with a paparazzi-ready smile. Jason rolled his eyes and sunk to the back of the group silently, sinking back into his job and keeping an eye on their surroundings. He listened as Alya laughed softly and elbowed Marinette even as the group turned their attention to Bruce.

“You and your bikes,” Alya teased. “If someone knew enough about motorcycles, I bet you’d marry them on the spot.”

“Nah,” Marinette whispered back. “If they gave me a really nice one though? That’s marriage potential for sure.”

The two girls laughed for a second before focusing back on the tour. Adrien wasted no time making his way to Marinette’s side, silent questions in his eyes. Jason watched with interest as the two seemed to silently communicate with one another. It was obvious that Adrien was calling her lie, and Marinette was essentially silently telling him that she would explain later. It was so seamless and subtle that if Jason hadn’t been extremely familiar with that kind of communication already, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Once again his eyebrows rose a tick on his forehead, and he made a mental note of the interaction. That kind of silent conversation wasn’t an easy thing to do with people. It was most commonly seen in married or otherwise long-term couples, childhood friends, family, or hero partners. The childhood friends and family sections were already ruled out from their background check on her and Harley herself had mentioned that even though Marinette had once crushed on Adrien, she had unofficially adopted the boy as her brother since then. Though, their time as close friends was only documented as having lasted about a year. That wasn’t quite enough time for that sort of effortless silent communication to be possible.

Of course, Jason had his suspicions already. But there was no rush, either. The Clown was on the move and more important to focus on for now. He could focus on the puzzle that was Marinette and Adrien later.

Bruce took over the tour as he had the day before, and the class was instantly riveted once again. If the fact that they were being led through the building by the very man who owned it wasn’t awesome enough to get everyone’s full attention, the man’s personality was. He came off a little carefree and very kind, but there was an obvious undercurrent of just how much he loved his company that showed that he did take it and his job seriously. Just, not too seriously either. And he interjected everywhere he could with personal stories and anecdotes and little bits of his family history that the normal tour guides might not have known. It was not long after he announced that he was going to take them to a lower lab set aside specifically for their class’ tour, so that they could do their first interactive activity, that jason found the opportunity to sidle up next to Marinette on the opposite side from where Adrien walked alongside her.

“So,” he said casually. “How’d you know I ride a motorcycle?” he smirked to show he wasn’t upset as he looked down at her curiously. Marinette blinked, taking her attention away from Bruce to look over at Jason. Once his words registered, she smiled widely and pointed to one of his pockets. The corners of his bike gloves flopped over the edge.

“I noticed those. I figured you’d have a negative reaction that might give us away if my lie was too off the mark, and I do have a habit of saying stupid things if I don’t have a clue or something to play off of. I also had to make it believable for the class, and they all know that my Nonna has played a huge part in my love for motorcycles. I plan on getting a license to drive one when I turn sixteen later this year,” she told him softly. “I tend to gush whenever I see a cool bike, so I knew they wouldn’t question it.”

Jason huffed a little bit of laughter under his breath. It was like the trope of a character looking at random items in the room to come up with a fake name, but somehow it had actually worked for her. She was quick-witted and clever, he had to admit. And observant.

“I was running late, so I must have left them in my pocket when I was changing,” he admitted, unbothered. “Ah, here we are,” he nodded to return the two teen’s (he had noticed Adrien paying close attention as he and Marinette had their conversation) attention back to the tour. Bruce opened the door for the class with a flourish, gesturing for everyone to go in.

“Since these first few days are going to be tours and lessons about working in general, your first activity of your trip is to solve various problems we’ve given you based on real situations that WE employees have been in before. Split up into groups, and choose a table. Each table has a different problem covering a different industry. Reporting, Science— specifically research and development, business management, and entertainment…”

—*—*—*—*—*

“It’s straight,” Adrien assured her, trying to keep himself from laughing as Marinette straightened his tie for the millionth time. “I promise. And you look fantastic.”

Marinette stepped back, nodding at Adrien’s appearance in approval. “I know. We both look great, but…” she fidgeted and then stepped forward to go right back to over-straightening his tie. Adrien snorted, grabbing her hands before she could touch the poor thing again and lowering her arms to her sides.

“Calm down. Like you said, we both look great. You don’t have a single hair out of place, the outfits you made us look amazing, and my tie is at a perfect ninety degree angle to my collar. Take the model’s word for it,” he teased with a lopsided grin. “We look ready for the front cover of a magazine. So just take a deep breath, because we should get down to the lobby soon to wait for the ride he’s sending for us.”

“Right,” Marinette nodded. She followed his advice and took a deep breath. Once she was suitably calmed, she opened her eyes and nodded at him. Adrien smiled and held out his arm, making Marinette snort as she took hold of it gently and let him lead her to the elevator.

Bruce had not specified whether the dinner was going to be casual or formal, but with the fact that his kids were going to be present and it was at his own house, Marinette had a feeling it was going to be more of a casual thing than if they had went out to a fancy restaurant with a black tie dress code. At the same time, this was the Wayne manor they were talking about. She didn’t want to be underdressed, either. Not to mention that it was her design skills that had played a huge part in her winning the contest in the first place, so she felt like she had to show her work again to prove that they had chosen the right person.

A playful wolf whistle greeted the two of them when they got down to the lobby. Alya was, to no one’s surprise, the perpetrator. She stood in the lobby with Alix, Nino, and Max, who all had known about the dinner and agreed to be there to see the two of them off and put Marinette’s worries to rest. The four of them jogged over, Alix smiling and adding her own soft whistle of appreciation.

“You guys look great,” the short skater assured them, taking the time to skate slow circles around them to make sure that nothing was wrong with their outfits. “I think you’ve outdone yourself, Mari! Very cool.”

Alya nodded eagerly, bouncing in place with a wide, beaming smile on her face. “Ah! The both of you look ready to kick ass and woo rich people!” she added. Max pushed his glasses up on his nose with a small grin.

“There is a ninety-five percent chance of your work impressing all of the Waynes,” he said in his own version of encouragement.

“You guys got this!” Nino shot them a thumbs up. “They beat me to all the stuff I wanted to say.”

Marinette beamed, laughing along with her friends as she allowed herself to relax a little. Adrien’s outfit was of her own making, a subtle way for him to rebel since his father had sent him with his own Gabriel brand suit should an appropriate opportunity to wear it come up. Adrien had no plans of ever putting his father’s suit on his body. In an effort to spice up formal men’s wear a bit without making the whole thing white and silver like Gabriel wanted, Marinette had made him a classic silk shirt in black, with short sleeves that fell at that perfect halfway point between his elbow and shoulder. The sleeves had thick cuffs in a dark forest green, with decorative straight stitches on the seams in a bright magenta pink thread. On top of that was a corset-style sleeveless vest with a deep V. The majority of the vest was the same black as the shirt, but with dark green hand-stitched swirls that were just barely bright enough to be contrasted against the black. It created a very subtle pattern that would be hard to see in the wrong lighting, but would make it look that much more expensive and elaborate in the right lighting. The lapel of the vest was in the same dark forest green as the cuffs of his shirt, with a few decorative swirls embroidered on the very corners. The piping of the corset-vest made three curved lines on either side of his waist, curling from mid-rib cage to his waist. It gave him a slightly more feminine twist to his outfit, making his waist look smaller even though it wasn’t actually pulled very tight on him— it was mostly the illusion made by the piping rather than the actual tightness of the garment. The two outside piping lines were done in a magenta pink, while the middle piping line was once again in dark forest green. Unlike most corset-style vests, this one had no buttons or zipper on the front at all. Instead, it was closed only by corset lacing in the back, the laces done in such a dark shade of green that it was almost black, while the eyelets that the laces were threaded through were that same magenta pink as the piping and decorative stitches elsewhere on the outfit. The tie that Marinette had spent so long making sure was straight was almost entirely soft lace, but it was layered in such a way with layers of sheer green and pink lace that it looked like it was a constant swirl of the two colors. If someone got close enough to see the pattern of the lace tie, they would notice that it was a pattern of cats chasing a butterfly.

Underneath the artistic top of the outfit were black dress pants, once again with thick forest-green cuffs on the bottoms. But instead of the decorative stitching, the pant legs flared a bit at the ankles for just a little extra drama. Magenta-pink Oxfords peeked out of the wide cuffs. The green detailing made Adrien’s eyes pop, while the pink accents gave his boyish charm a little more of a feminine touch that almost seemed to highlight his naturally sensitive and charming nature.

In contrast, Marinette wore a sleeveless pink pantsuit. It was the same shade as the pink accents in Adrien’s outfit, and had a built-in corset as well that went only around her natural waist. The corset boning on Marinette was a solid black, while the rest was just the same base pink as the majority of the suit. The black of the boning seemed to flow downwards, changing from boning into thick hand-embroidery in thread of the exact same black. The embroidery flowed down the sides of both legs, in the shape of tree branches and apple blossoms. Pale green accents in the form of swirls at her high neckline and a pale green lace capelet that was the only thing covering her shoulders helped tie her outfit in with Adrien’s. She also wore pale green low kitten heels and her black hair up in a braided bun. With how her pant legs were form-hugging until they flared out slightly at the heel, and the lack of sleeves exposed her toned arms and shoulders and emphasized her strength there without making her look unbalanced or too masculine for the rest of the outfit’s style, she looked ready to rock the business world. Her bright blue eyes clashed with the green details of the outfit just enough to bring attention to them, assuring that people who met her eyes would not be able to easily look away.

The quick snap of a phone’s flash went off, drawing everyone’s attention to Madame Bustier. She was beaming at all of them, and had just taken a picture of her two students all dressed up. She waved her phone happily. “I’m sending this picture to the both of you. I’m so proud of you guys!” she gushed.

Marinette and Adrien both blushed deep red, shifting in their spots. They were confident in their looks, and Adrien was just as proud of his pseudo-sister, but neither of them was very good at handling so much positive attention aimed only at them. Especially not from their extremely sincere friends and teacher.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng?” An older gentleman with a British accent turned everyone’s attention to him. The first thing Marinette thought was that he had kind eyes. He also had soft wisps of white hair on his head, carefully trimmed and slicked back. Of course, Marinette and Adrien also couldn’t miss the high quality and perfect press of his carefully maintained suit. Once he had shown all the proper credentials to Madame Bustier, he introduced himself to the two well-dressed teens with a shallow bow. “I am Alfred Pennyworth, the butler for Wayne Manor. I am to escort the both of you there for supper tonight.”

“Oh! Thank you so much, Monsieur Pennyworth,” Marinette said, walking up and shaking his hand. Adrien was right by her side the whole time, matching her smile watt for watt and shaking Alfred’s hand with just as much enthusiasm.

“Yeah, thank you for having us over. I know it was technically Bruce who invited Marinette, but you’re probably the one that has to do all the work. So, thank you. We really appreciate it,” he told the man sincerely. Alfred’s answering smile was soft, almost fond.

“Yes, I admit I am in charge of most of the work for tonight. But you shouldn’t worry, it’s no different from any other day at the manor,” he said lightheartedly, a little bit of good natured snark shining through his otherwise proper behavior— “Every last one of the Waynes would die in less than a week without me to keep everything in order,” he joked. “Allow me to lead you to the car.”

Marinette and Adrien followed behind Alfred. She didn’t know if it was the calming aura he put off, or if it was the gentle way his eyes sparkled that made her want to look after him. But whatever it was, she found herself wanting to protect this kind old man already. Which is why her eyebrows slightly pinched together. Before climbing inside the luxurious town car he had brought for them, she couldn’t help but turn to Alfred and ask;

“I hope you aren’t overworked. I don’t want to overstep, Monsieur, but isn’t the Wayne family rather large for one person to look after on their own?”

Alfred laughed gently at that, his eyes once again softening. “Do not worry about me, Miss Dupain-Cheng. They are family to me. And though, yes, you are correct in assuming they are a handful, they are also wonderful people. They help me where they can, but taking care of themselves is not their forte. Being able to do that for them is my greatest joy.”

The wrinkles in Marinette’s brow smoothed out and she smiled. “That’s so sweet. You’re making me want to meet them all even more.”

Something about that twinkle in Alfred’s eye made her feel like he was laughing at some joke she didn’t hear. “I’m sure all of you will get along swimmingly.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“I FOUND HER FIRST!”

Alfred had barely opened the manor’s doors to let Marinette and Adrien inside before the chaos started. Or rather, before they were let in on it— it seemed as if the chaos had already been going on for a while.

Jason skidded across the floor in a mad dash, having to grasp the doorframe he was running out of so that he could turn the corner sharply and veer towards them.

“Tell them, Marinette! I found you first, you’re my sister now, don’t fall for any of their Jedi mind tricks!”

Marinette just blinked, a little caught off guard. It hadn’t exactly sunk into her head until right that moment that ‘Wayne Family dinner’ would include Jason. Her mind was still catching up to the fact that she was seeing him out of his security guard uniform for the first time. He wasn’t dressed up at all, in a well-loved brown leather jacket over a white shirt and dark wash jeans. He still had his motorcycle gloves on. Marinette looked down at first herself, then Adrien.

“Are we overdressed?” She asked with a grimace. Jason huffed.

“Of course not, you guys look amazing! But seriously, tell them that I claimed you as my sister first and none of them are half as cool as me.”

Marinette and Adrien traded glances before laughing together.

“If we’re being technical here,” Adrien drawled mischievously as he straightened out his vest. “I met Marinette first, and she adopted me as her brother long before we met any of you,” he pointed out with a sharp grin.

“Ha!” a younger man laughed pointedly, following after Jason. The newcomer was dressed more formally, in a dress shirt under a very luxurious looking burgundy designer sweater. Under that, he wore black perfectly-pressed slacks and nondescript oxfords. His collar showed signs of housing a tie earlier, but he had clearly taken it off sometime earlier. His hair hung slightly long, framing his face with two long locks while the back of his hair slightly stuck up in all directions in natural tufted curls. Like Jason, his hair was jet black and he had bright blue eyes. He was also about half Jason’s size, much shorter and leaner than his adoptive brother. “He’s got you there, idiot,” he snarked smugly at Jason before turning to the two guests. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, Mister Agreste. I’m Tim Drake-Wayne, it’s nice to finally meet both of you,” he introduced himself as he walked over to shake their hands. “And your outfits are amazing! Did you make them, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“Marinette,” she corrected with a lopsided grin. “My last name is a mouthful, and I prefer to just go by Marinette anyway. And yes, I made both of these outfits before we left Paris,” she admitted, trying her best to seem professional. She had already ruined her chances of that with Bruce and Jason, but this time she was prepared!

“They are just as impressive as the rest of your work that I’ve seen. And call me Tim, it’s only fair,” and then he smiled.

Damn his boyish grin. He wasn’t someone Marinette had a crush on— he wasn’t her type— but damn he was unfairly charismatic and charming. His smile temporarily short circuited her brain. That was exactly the kind of boyish smile that had started her crush on Adrien, and that she was unfairly weak for. Now she felt a deep-seated urge to protect this boy and his smile or so help her, someone would be sent to the ER if he was hurt and it wasn’t gonna be her. And she didn’t try to dissuade herself from that strong protective urge, her mother had already assured her that all the Waynes were trustworthy and that Tim in particular shared a lot of her bad habits. She could allow this little bit of vulnerability. Hopefully.

“... I’ve only known you for two minutes, but if anything happened to you I would kill everyone in this room and then myself,” she breathed. Adrien elbowed her hard, making her yelp.

“You said that out loud Mari,” he deadpanned. A deep flush immediately came over her face, and she covered her mouth with both hands.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry— but you— just forget I said anything. Please!”

Tim was visibly shocked, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Jason snorted, overcoming his own brief moment of shock pretty easily.

“Careful there,” Jason chided good-heartedly. His gaze met Marinette’s with a slight weight in it though. “You barely know the guy. He’ll annoy you out of your mind soon enough.”

Marinette caught the hint, wincing and changing the subject. Jason could see that she had done exactly as her mother had warned— she had gotten attached to Tim almost immediately. And while he wanted to believe Marinette when she said that the same wouldn’t happen with Joker, that she was not going to repeat her mother’s mistakes…

He couldn’t help but worry. Joker was a slippery bastard, and good at getting past people’s defenses.

Tim eventually led them all to the dining room, where several people were already sat waiting for them.

“We decided it would be best if we didn’t all swarm you at the door,” Tim explained, grinning at her kindly. “Take a seat wherever you want, Alfred is probably going to be done with dinner soon.”

Marinette and Adrien both nodded, going to sit by each other’s side. Adrien put his hand on her knee when they sat down, and traded a meaningful look with her.

“Calm down,” he whispered. “We’re not in Paris. And if you slip, I’ll catch you. Promise.”

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed a little. Yeah, she could trust Adrien to make sure she didn’t slip up too much. Get too careless. He’d watch her back like she did for him. She’d be okay. They’d both be okay.

“Thanks, Adrien. I needed that.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Permanent tag list:

@rosalineandrosemary @neakco @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @trippingovermyfeet @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @bigpicklebananatree @fantasylover-92 @prongs-flowers @jumpingjoy82 @prettylittlebutterflie @queenz-z @literaryhiraeth @waffelyunsure @deathssilentapproach-blog @waiting247 @theirlmikan @unoriginalmess

Story Tag list:

@golden-promises @tazanna-blythe @chocolatecatstheron @dorkus-minimus @laurcad123 @mizzy-pop

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @deathssilentapproach-blog @user00000003 @frieddonutsweets @blur-of-colours @prettylittlebutterflie @ladyqnoirr @a-star-with-a-human-name @mizzy-pop @laurcad123 @literaryhiraeth @asrainterstellar @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @miraculous-trinity-leo @missanalysis @lovelyautumnsunflower @lolieg

#maribat #maribat fic #maribat fanfic #pre daminette #damienette #eventual daminette #platonic harley quinn x marinette #bio!mom harley quinn #bio!dad joker #platonic timinette #platonic ivy x marinette #platonic jasonette #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #ml x dc #dc x miraculous #platonic adrinette

303 notes · View notes

lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

Text

I've got you

*James Conrad x reader*

Parts: Oneshot/Drabble

Words: 1.7k

Prompt: "Imagine being on Skull Island (or somewhere equally as fucky) and Conrad shines a flashlight out into the darkness, only for several pairs of eyes to reflect back. His hand tightens around yours and every muscle in his lean body tenses. That deep voice gets low and quiet, warning you not to run. The second you try to bolt--because duh-- he tugs you against his firm chest and his lips are on your ear."

A.N.: This is a gift for @hopelessromanticspoonie who had this idea yesterday 💚✨ She (and her lovely anon) deserve some Conrad goodness! I hope you guys enjoy this quick little snippet 🖤 I am actually writing a longer Conrad series currently, but that will still take a while ☺️

______________________________

The low growling sounds outside your tent should have been warning enough, had they already sufficed to wake you up in the first place. If not that, then at least the distant screeching that carried through the cold night air at a bone-chilling frequency, haunting echoes in your mind filling the silence in between.

You should never have left your tent, should never have come on this bloody excursion to the middle of nowhere in the first place! But of course, you just had to be curious and go check on the noise by yourself instead of waiting for one of the men with the heavy guns to take care of it. Just had to prove to them that you weren't just the frail and frightened little thing they saw in you no matter what you did. You had to prove it to him. James Conrad, the man of both your daydreams and sleepless nights. Gods, you had been falling for him from the first day of this doomed mission. Him, with his incredible blue eyes and that unforgettable voice that could put the fear of God into every soul when he bellowed commands across any battlefield, and that yet would recite Shakespeare in the softest flowing melody like he was born to do nothing else. A voice dipped in liquid sin that should not be uttering compliments like languished breaths in the dark. Not without unravelling you softly in the sweetest torture known to man.

Well, you should have gotten a grip on yourself and your pathetic insecurities and just told him how badly you'd fallen for him days ago. Now, however, you were going to die lonely and frustrated, a mere hundred yards away from the well protected camp you'd been stupid enough to leave. Great job, idiot…

The same growling that had woken you up was all around you now, louder, so much louder than before and you couldn't believe that you had been so stupid to walk into this trap of… whatever was lurking in the darkness around you now. You didn't dare to move, didn't dare to make a sound… and simply clung onto the childish belief that if you couldn't see what was stalking you right now, it couldn't see you either. Not that you would've been able to see much anyway, with the stream of tears that was running down your cheeks now.

"Y/n! Are you out of your mind?! You shouldn't be out here alone in the middle of the night!" Conrad's scolding voice behind you, in that delicious British accent nevertheless, sent an immediate shiver down your spine, but unfortunately for more than one reason this time around. Gods, he was here… you only hoped that he had come as your salvation and not a second course to the hidden predators' nightly meal.

"James… They're everywhere, in the darkness… I'm so sorry." You whispered in a tear laced voice, too far frozen in your fear to turn around to him even when you felt his radiant presence coming up right next to you. So close that his warmth was almost seething on the chilled skin of your arm and shoulder. Gods… you had been so stupid indeed; you were absolutely bloody frightened and helpless out here, who had you been trying to fool!

When Conrad finally switched on his flashlight to shed some literal light onto the darkness ahead that you were still staring at relentlessly, you barely held back your startled scream by biting down hard on your bottom lip. There were eyes, so many eyes that reflected the light right back at you from the undergrowth in a glowing hollowness that spoke of nothing but hungry fixation and thus, impending death. Conrad next to you tensed in an instant, every muscle in his lean body coiling in a display of controlled strength, preparing to fight and defend himself. Or rather to defend both of you, for not even a broken second later his hand wrapped tightly around your lower arm as if purely on instinct, and your breath caught in your throat in return. A few deafening heartbeats long you both stayed frozen like that, until slowly, painfully, deliciously slowly, his hand slid down your arm to hold your hand instead, interlacing your fingers with his in the same unfaltering, strong hold.

"Don't move…" He drawled under his breath, commanding you with the deep tone of his voice alone to surrender his will no matter what he said. Thus you could only clasp his hand in a death grip in return, breath coming out in shallow pants as your heart thundered in your chest like the storm approaching in the distance.

And yet, when another loud growl announced that these beasts were drawing closer to you still, almost up your neck already with their teeth or claws sunk deeply into your tender flesh, the sound startled you so far beyond your reason that your flight instinct grew unbearable at last. Every fibre in your body burst in panic, and you bolted without thought, without reason, but you did not get far. Fast as lightning to match the thunder in your heart, Conrad's arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you flush against his chest, holding you tightly against his strong body while your excess adrenaline merely caused you to whimper into the soft fabric of his shirt.

"Shhh... I've got you." His voice was surprisingly soft now, reassuring and calming almost as if just to soothe your fears, while the gentle brush of his lips against the shell of your ear caused you to shiver for entirely different reasons. A soaring heart and tingling exhilaration made for an odd mix combined with the prominent fear of death, but in the end it only heightened your every sense to the incredible. If you were to die now, you at least would do so wrapped up in the arms of the man you loved. La petite mort, only in the opposite direction of what you would have wanted for him and you.

"James…" You breathed into his chest, desperately trying to keep yourself from trembling too noticeably, which only made him tighten his hold on you with a sharp intake of breath.

"Shush now, darling, and listen to me…" He replied in an equally quiet tone, still staring into the hollow eyes of death with his head so closely next to yours. "I will throw the flashlight ahead into the forest as far as I can to cause a decent distraction, and then you and I will run back to camp without turning back. We should be safe behind the barriers we've set up. Do you understand?"

You nodded slowly with a shuddering breath, then turned your head ever so slightly to glance up at him with all those sharp lines of his stern features, while at the same time he dropped his arm from around you and instead took a tight hold of your hand again. Then in the matter of broken seconds, he threw the flashlight as far away from your path as he could, and finally dashed off back towards your camp while pulling you along by your hand. You were quick to comply, running as fast as you could while your lungs burned all the more, but both Conrad's death grip on your hand and the howling behind your back made for a magnificent motivation to keep running either way.

The hundred yards still were torture to your mind and body, but even without the light you could see the barriers drawing nearer and nearer. When you finally reached the gate of the improvised defenses, Conrad didn't waste any time to rush you through before it was barred off from the inside right behind you. The howling, however, remained right outside before the gates and still made your blood freeze over even now from the safety of your camp. Good gods… you really had cheated death. Again.

Panting, you finally dared to look up at Conrad once more. He was still clutching your hand as if he was afraid you would vanish if he let go, and when his burning gaze met yours in that undivided intensity, you couldn't keep your lips from trembling, nor your words from spilling over at last. "I'm so sorry, I… I really didn't mean to cause you so much trouble, I'm so sorry, I just… wanted to prove to you that I'm worth your-..."

You didn't get any further when his hand rose to cup your cheeks with a start, elegant fingers entangling in your hair as he pulled you close to him and pressed his lips to yours in every bit of passion and urgency you had been yearning for for so long. It took you but a broken second of surprise before you melted against him with a faint moan, returning everything he gave you and everything you had beyond. This was heaven… A heaven you were granted only after surviving in hell.

When you finally pulled back, both breathless far more thoroughly than just from your run, Conrad leaned his forehead against yours so very gently, and yet refused to release you from his incessant hold. "You are worth all there is and more, darling. I can bear absolutely anything for you, and with you, you must know that. All except for losing you."

"I'm so sorry." You breathed, eyes closed as you revelled in the roaring waves of unadulterated affection washing over both of you now. "You won't lose me, I… I won't let that happen. I've got you just the same."

Your words brought a smile to his face, you could feel it all around you, could feel it against your lips a second later. He wasn't a man of many words, you knew that, but the ones he spoke were always the most beautiful and honest to his soul. So you did know indeed, you both had each other and that was all you would need.

______________________________

General Tags:

@wegingerangelica @dreary-skies-stuff @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @kthemarsian @lady-of-lies @strawberrysandcream @noplacelikehome77 @theoneanna @mishaandthebrits @i-am-a-mes @nonsensicalobsessions @exygon @hiddles-lobotomy @rjohnson1280 @annwhojumps @spookycatqueen @salempoe @headoverhiddleston @fanfiction-and-stress @thecreatiivecorner @themusingsofmany @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpionchild81 @crystal-28 @adefectivedetective @lokis-girl-in-mischief @booklover2929 @iamverity @lovesmesomehiddles @akk4rin @whitewolfandthefox @stuckupstucky @kassablanca13 @delightfulheartdream @hayalee8 @lemonmochitea

#james conrad #james conrad x reader #james conrad imagine #james conrad x you #kong skull island #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #I can't usually write short stuff

805 notes · View notes

lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

Body Shots (Pierre Gasly)

Inspired by (and beta read) by the amazing @limp-wrist-max thank you Mea!

Masterlist

Word count: 3.5k

Recommended song: “Lucky You” by Sim Dane

Vacationing in Milan had its perks. Fine dining, luxury stores that were prime for window shopping, and the proximity to your best friend, to name a few.

When you'd touched down in Milan you had had no intentions of visiting Pierre. You had just finished your exams for your summer class and had a week before the next semester started up, so you had simply booked the cheapest ticket and boarded a plane.

The intent had been to have some good wine, good food and unwind. Pierre saw your Instagram story minutes after you posted it and recognized the bakery you stopped at for lunch. And once he found out you were only a few minutes away from that weekend's grand prix, he had ideas that didn't involve you reading a novel all day.

Pierre had insisted that a last minute cancelation by a family friend had left a paddock pass unclaimed and had suggested you take it.

"You're my best friend, it'll be fun to have you experience a weekend through my eyes for once instead of sitting in the stands. Come visit me."

Something in the inflection of his voice made the simple request rub you raw. He missed you. It had been months since your last get together and you couldn't blame him. The last year had been rough for him and he rarely had anyone physically at his side to help him through it.

Inviting you instead of one of his parents was about more than your current proximity to the track. He hadn't missed a beat in asking you, not hesitating to consider anyone else being with him this weekend.

Your stomach had turned as you climbed in a cab Sunday morning, not out of fear of something going wrong but because of the nagging feeling that something was about to change.

You'd known Pierre since you were kids. Your brother had raced in karting before pursuing another dream, but in the few short years you'd hung around European tracks you had managed to forge a bond with one of your brother's rivals. That friendship carried on regardless of the distance that separated you, kept alive by visits in the off season and once a year trips to the racetrack at Silverstone.

Pierre met you at the gates and you had barely seen him since.

A decent qualifying session saw the Frenchman start P10 on Sunday's race. He didn't hide the fact that he was disappointed, but come time for his final meeting with the team you'd never guess he was anything but ecstatic.

You had to be conscious about your mouth hanging open when Pierre stepped into the garage in his fireproofs with his suit half undone. The tuft of blond hair peeking through his backwards cap floats on an invisible breeze and he bounces on his toes. His brow furrows when he is handed a data sheet, listening intently to what the engineer points out.

Butterflies riot in your stomach when Pierre catches you staring and winks. You pray he writes the blush on your cheeks off as the heat and he must, because he raises his eyebrows and flexes a bit.

You laugh to cover the way you want to do nothing but strip him out of that tight fitted white shirt. Your crush was getting out of hand. Pierre's shameless, friendly flirting only escalated matters.

You told yourself it was nothing. He was like this with every girl he met, making a fool of himself to earn a laugh. You were no different, except maybe that you were a constant where most other women only got to enjoy his playful personality for a short time.

You're treated to a few long minutes of watching Pierre prep to climb into the car before he's heading out on track to line up at the grid.

The race starts off fine, Pierre's pace is better than expected. One of the Haas's breaks down at the pit entry and Pierre's strategist decides to bring him in for a fresh set of tires. A kiss seems like the proper reward for their stroke of brilliance, which affords Pierre the advantage when the pits close soon after.

Restarting on lap 28 is nail biting. Hamilton, Stroll, and Pierre make up the podium places. The entire garage gasps when Stroll goes wide at turn four. Hamilton serves his penalty and Pierre inherits the lead. Sainz jumps on the opportunity to attack.

Pierre defends brilliantly until the final lap. The team erupts when he crosses the line first, bringing home the win.

Red, white and green confetti sticks to his skin as he sprays the champagne over all of you. In the heat of it all, Pierre sits on that top step and shakes his head. You already know that the photos of him being snapped from all angles will be gorgeous, the sun shining down on the first French grand prix winner in decades.

A legend in the minds of his people and in yours.

You could scarcely believe it yourself. Your best friend had finally, after years of being pushed down, won a grand prix at the temple of speed. Red Bull had been wrong, just as you'd insisted when Pierre cried over losing his seat and his friend in one weekend. But god, did Pierre rise above it all.

Pierre catches your gaze just before he leaves the podium. A lifetime of emotion swirls around him like an enigma, begging you to find out what it was hiding. Your wave is barely more than a lift of your hand but Pierre notes it nonetheless, tipping his trophy in your direction.

You wait patiently on the sidelines as Pierre poses for pictures with his team on and off the track. His attention constantly falls on you, his grin widening each time he sees you tucked under the arm of an enthusiastic mechanic or crew member. Alpha Tauri was a family and you were an honorary member thanks to your connection to their driver.

An action packed hour of cameras passes before Pierre is able to break away. As soon as he's given the go ahead he passes his trophy off and marching to you. You're both practically running by the time you meet in the middle. You crash into him and he lifts you off your feet in a crushing hug.

"You did it," you whisper, overwhelmed by his success now that you've gotten the chance to celebrate with him. "I'm so proud of you."

Pierre laughs as he sets you on your feet. His smile is wider than you've ever seen it and you're sure his cheeks must be sore.

"Wish they allowed us to bring a friend up there," Pierre says softly, a smile melting into a sly smirk. "Seeing you doused in champagne is an image I wouldn't forget."

You shake your head, caught up in his ceaseless flirting. He had no idea that his honeyed words and gentle touches lit something inside of you, rattling your brain and making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. Instead you snatch the black and gold Pirelli cap off his head and place it on your own, earning you a peal of laughter.

"Looks better on you anyway." Pierre runs a hand through his sweaty, champagne doused hair, leaving bits sticking up at odd angles.

Someone calls Pierre's name, far enough away that there's no rush. Pierre's hands remain planted on your waist and yours stay wrapped around his neck. By the way his bright blue eyes bore into yours, you swear he's thinking the same thing you are.

"Thank you for believing in me," he murmurs, gaze falling to your lips.

"I knew it was just a matter of time," you tell him, inching up on your tiptoes. Tempted by his win, you want to ruin the best friendship you've ever had. You want to discover if the lips you spend far too much time dreaming about felt as soft as they looked. You want to know how it feels to be lost in Pierre, newly minted race winner, and find out just how he dealt with the adrenaline and euphoria of his incredible drive.

"Well done mate!"

Max Verstappen startles the two of you apart. You take a healthy step back and drop your gaze to the ground to hide your burning cheeks.

"Thanks." Pierre accepts the Dutchman's embrace and claps him on the back. "Sucks I didn't get to fight you for it."

"There will be more chances in the future. And I didn't expect to see you here, that's a nice surprise." Max knocks you with his shoulder, tipping you off balance. On instinct you latch onto Pierre's arm to steady yourself. You wait a heartbeat too long to remove your hand and both of you find anywhere to look but each other.

"So where's the party?" You ask, searching for a distraction from the way your palm still burns.

"Definitely not at Red Bull." Max shudders and you laugh because that's what you do when someone is being over dramatic. It rings hollow in your ears.

"I hear there's a few guys with adjoining rooms at the hotel who bought plenty of booze," Pierre says. "You and Dan wanna come by?"

"Is that really a question?" Max grins, already typing out a text as Pierre feeds him the details.

**********

"You should do body shots," Max suggests, which earns a roaring laugh from Daniel and a half hearted one from Pierre.

"I don't think so," Pierre says, "there's no one here I trust enough to let that happen."

"Not even your best friend?" Max gestures to you and shoots you a wink when Pierre glances over. "I think she's trustworthy."

"No thanks." Pierre holds up his plastic cup and salutes Max before draining it to the dregs.

Pierre's immediate refusal hurt more than it probably should have. You hadn't expected him to jump at the offer but having him shut the idea down so thoroughly hadn't been what you wanted either.

Max notes your pouty lower lip and speaks on your behalf. "Come on mate," Max insists. "You just won your first prix, live a little! It's not like you've got anything to lose, she's your best friend."

"That's exactly why-"

"Shut up, it would be fun! Wouldn't it?" Max says this last bit to you, a wild grin on his face.

Max expects you to turn red and object. That was his end goal. But what the Dutchman hadn't counted on was how drunk you already were on Pierre. On his smile. On his bright blue eyes, swirling in the aftermath of his unlikely triumph. And mostly on the not-so-sneaky way he glances at you every few minutes.

"Let's do it."

Pierre blinks, searching your face for any sign of distress. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, why not?" You shrug, suddenly fearing that you'd read him wrong and he really was against this whole thing. "Unless you don't want to-"

"Get the vodka," Pierre interrupts, nodding to Max though his stare remains pinned on you. Pierre latches onto your wrist and drags you around the room until he finds a table long and sturdy enough for his liking.

"This a good height for you?"

The coffee table is low enough that you'd have to kneel. Luckily getting on your knees isn't something you'd mind doing for Pierre. You lick your lips without thinking. Pierre's pupils blow wide, black swallowing the swirling oceans of blue.

"Sure," is all you manage.

"Good." Apparently neither of you were able to focus on speech. You work together to clear the empty plastic cups and used napkins from the surface. Your hands brush when you both reach for the last cup and you just catch the way Pierre's breath hitches.

You and Pierre have danced this dance since you were teenagers. Each of you knows the steps by heart. The only difference is tonight neither of you were poised to bow out before the final lift.

"Beep beep, bitches!" You yank your hand away when Max's shout reaches you. Pierre's hand lingers in front of him, outstretched as if your palm remained grazing his thumb.

Max holds the bottle of vodka over his head as he wades through the crowd. "You're all about to be very, very entertained."

"Where's your chaperone?" You ask Max, searching for Daniel in the low lighting. You press your palm to your thigh, dissipating Pierre's lingering heat.

The Dutchman waves you off. "Went to get us more drinks. Pierre, isn't it kinda hard to do body shots if you're still fully clothed?"

"Who says I'm the one getting undressed?"

Max's grin dimples his flushed cheeks. "I mean you can ask her to take her shirt off in front of all these people if you want to."

"No," Pierre responds quickly. "Fine. I'll do it."

When Pierre strips off his shirt he gets more than a few whistles from men and women alike. That tended to happen when someone was built like a Greek fucking god, you supposed. Whoever voted for People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" and decided on Michael B. Jordan had clearly never laid eyes on Pierre, with his bronzed skin, endless expanses of muscle, and brilliant cheshire grin.

Michael B. Jordan who?

Pierre hands the team branded shirt off and lays out on the table. He pillows an arm under his head, bare bicep flexed as he gets comfortable. Leaning in to kiss along the hard muscle was out of the question, however tempting it was.

Pierre looks up expectantly. "You coming?"

Holy shit, this was actually happening.

"Yeah, I'm coming." You sink to your knees and Pierre laughs.

"Up here." He pats his thigh with his free hand and beacons you forward. "Please."

Screw it, you've already thrown your friendship out the window. This night ended either in heartbreak or awkwardness, might as well get your money's worth.

A few whoops break out above the music. The bassline isn't the only thing thundering in your chest as you straddle Pierre's thighs, hands braced on his chest.

"Okay?" Pierre whispers for your ears only. You nod with what you hope is a charming smile.

"Alright move," Max says, shooing you back until you're resting on your haunches. Max flicks the cap off the bottle and you grab it to take a long sip.

Max gapes at you and you wipe a hand over your mouth. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."

Pierre's thighs tense beneath you in response to your bold declaration. Dozens of Pierre's friends and team members gather around. For all you care, Pierre is the only person in the room.

"Last chance to back out," Max warns. You're too busy tracking the drop of liquid that falls from the neck of the bottle to splash onto the crease of Pierre's abs to bother responding.

"Pour it out." Pierre's chest sinks with his demand, doing nothing but sparking your imagination, creating images of him heaving beneath you. You'd sell your soul to recreate the way you're currently poised above Pierre's hips with a little less clothing and no audience.

Max gives up hope on you replying and dribbles the alcohol up Pierre's abdomen, stopping just below his pecks.

"Have at 'er-"

Your tongue is on Pierre's skin before Max has finished his sentence. You feel the muscle tense beneath your tongue, going rigid at the first contact. The burn of the vodka doesn't even register as you lap it up, catching the drips that fall over his sides.

You aren't sure either of you is breathing. Salty sweat mingles with the sharpness of the alcohol, an afterthought barely worth mentioning.

Blame the liquid courage or blame the high from Pierre's win, but you were confident Pierre was enjoying this just as much as you.

Planting a hand on Pierre's hip, you steal a glance up at him to find him locked on you. You take that as permission to continue, dragging your tongue flat up his stomach and continuing well past where the vodka had been poured. Up between his pecks, over the curve of his throat that bobs beneath your tongue, over his chin until you meet his lips, already parted and waiting.

Neither of you pay the shouts cresting around you any heed. You've both waited too long for this, endured too many almosts and what ifs to let the opportunity slip through your fingers. Your sticky hands cradle Pierre's face, angling it in a way that's to your liking so you can explore more of his mouth. He tastes like whiskey and mint, the juxtaposition of hot and cold scattering your thoughts. One of Pierre's hands finds the nape of your neck when you gasp for air, refusing to let you end the moment.

And it's pure, unending bliss that floods your veins when he nips at your lower lip, swollen and surely reddened from his kiss. His thumb sweeps across the back of your neck while you both fight to catch the breath currently evading you.

Daydreams didn't hold a candle to the real thing. One taste and you were addicted, craving as much as Pierre was willing to give.

"Hey," he murmurs, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a stupidly gorgeous smile.

"That was nice," you tease, tangling your fingers in the silky blond strands of his hair. "I wouldn't be opposed to doing it again."

"Me too. Maybe somewhere where it's just us though. I wouldn't want to scandalize my team any further." You manage to steal another sweet peck before Max hauls you off Pierre.

"Fucking finally," Daniel says, clapping when you're upright again. "Do you know how long I've been trying to orchestrate this? The two of you really are dumber than a box of rocks. I can't believe all it took was Max suggesting body shots to get you two to kiss."

The arm that wraps around your waist feels right. Pierre hasn't hugged you like this before, with his chin resting on your shoulder and his nose nuzzling your neck, but it already feels like home.

Pierre ignores Max completely in favor of pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. "Why don't we go back to my room? I'll pour more alcohol on myself if that's what it takes to convince you."

You're just about to take him up on the offer when one of his team members taps his shoulder. He glances at them impatiently, which the man thankfully doesn't take personally.

"They want some photos with you holding your trophy," he explains, handing a shirt and the star shaped interpretation of the Italian flag to Pierre. "It will only take a few minutes, they promised not to keep you long."

Of course everyone knew exactly where your minds were. Sanity had long since left the premises, tangled up in crisp white sheets. Pierre's entire team and half the Red Bull garage had seen what had gone down while the prix winner was sprawled on that coffee table. There would be no chance of denying it in the morning.

And while you'd never imagined that the first time you'd kiss your best friend would be directly preceded by licking copious amounts of shitty liquor off his super-heated skin, now that you'd experienced it any other way seems forgettable.

Pierre sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, I already have my trophy, but…" your stomach lurches when you realize he means you. Pierre catches the way your mouth hangs open and he shoots you a grin before accepting the real trophy.

"You carry it," he says, not giving you much of a choice as he thrusts it into your hands. "I'm occupied."

You're about to point out that his hands are, in fact, free and that the more likely reason for insisting you carry the trophy was his usual post-race laziness when he slings an arm around your shoulders and tucks you tight to his side.

"Is this okay?" Pierre asks when you involuntarily stiffen. God, it was more than okay, it was perfect, it had just caught you by surprise. You'd only kissed him a handful of minutes ago and Pierre was already wrapped around your finger, smitten as if you'd been a couple for years.

"Yeah no, it's perfect. Simply lovely," you say quickly, stumbling over your words.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Your answer comes in the form of a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. You prop the trophy on your hip and smile up at your race winner.

"You don't have to ask that ever again. My answer is always yes."

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly oneshot #pierre gasly x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 rpf #f1 #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 rpf

261 notes · View notes