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navybrat817 · 2 months

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Just Like That

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier. Word Count: Almost 5k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, pining, flirting, slight possessive behavior, talk of undercover mission, "only one bed" trope, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: A combination of @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge and my Bucky Barnes Smut Menu, courtesy of @ellemj. "Only One Bed" Trope and the dialogue prompt in bold italics. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The engagement ring on your finger suited you. Not large or overly flashy, the single diamond radiated a subtle sparkle. It was beautiful and a perfect fit, a representation of the unifying love of marriage. When you looked at it under the light, it was almost as if you could feel the love that Bucky had for you.

If only that were the case.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” You asked, taking a seat at the table across from Bucky.

“So we can practice and make sure we’re a convincing couple,” he replied.

You sighed as you glanced around the hotel room for the umpteenth time. A small sitting area, a dining and kitchen combination, a single bathroom, and a bedroom. When you pointed out that there was only one bed, Bucky reminded you of the expectation that the two of you had to sleep together while on assignment since you were going on a couple's retreat. Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have a crush on him, right?

Right.

You were completely enamored with Bucky Barnes, the handsome former assassin turned agent for the revamped SHIELD. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”

“What? No. Bucky, you aren't terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty.”

“You're talking to a guy who hasn't been on a real date since the 40s,” he deadpanned.

He had a point. Plus, from what you understood, Bucky wasn't exactly interested in dating anyone. Every time Steve or Natasha suggested he go on a date, he found a way to brush it off or change the subject.

Even if he was interested in dating, did he think of you as anything beyond a colleague?

Taking this assignment may have been a mistake.

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you said.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a week just to back to being coworkers after?

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Bucky. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at a coffee shop. We both ordered the same drink.”

“An iced caramel macchiato,” he said.

“And we reached for the drink at the same time,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And I immediately asked you out,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “You did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went to dinner and talked a bit about ourselves. You told me you're a mechanic and I told you I’m a teacher. And once dinner was over, we went back to that same coffee shop and we shared an iced caramel macchiato.”

“Even proposed to you at the same shop,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone.

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, it just would've been nice if we met at a coffee shop,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“What’s wrong with how we met?” He asked, crossing his arms.

The metal arm gleamed under the light. You noticed that he had a tendency to wear long sleeves and gloves whenever he was in the building, but seeing him with his sleeve pushed up and missing glove? You would almost say he was comfortable around you.

Again, he had to play the part right.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. “Do you not remember what happened or are you just being nice?” You asked.

Months ago, the day you met Bucky, Steve informed you that he planned to introduce you to him after he came back from a long assignment. Not only were you excited to meet one of his best friends and a great soldier, but you had wanted to make a good impression on him. What you did was make an ass out of yourself when you turned the corner only to smack right into the former Winter Soldier.

And splattered your beverage on both of you in the process.

Instacrush and a horrible impression on your part.

Bucky’s lips curled in a smile as your eyes widened. “You do remember,” you said, wadding up a nearby napkin and tossing it at his face, which he easily caught. “Oh, my God! That’s why you chose ‘coffee shop' for this, didn't you?”

You concentrated so much on getting the backstory right that it didn't occur to you that he was maybe poking fun at you. He wasn't the kind of guy that liked making others feel bad though. Tease you, sure. Outright make fun of you at the risk of hurting your feelings? He would never.

“Hey, I didn't choose how we met, but I also didn't object,” he said, raising his hands in surrender when you went to throw another napkin at him. “And I wouldn't forget meeting you, doll. You make a lasting impression.”

You wished you had done something to make him remember you besides spilling a drink on him. “I guess making an idiot out of myself is a lasting impression,” you teased.

Something dark flashed in his eyes, making your breath hitch. “That’s not what I meant. You didn't make an idiot out of yourself and I don't like you thinking that or talking down about yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, not used to someone getting so defensive at your self-depreciation. There was something sexy and heartwarming about it. “You were very nice about the whole incident.”

“You were nice, too,” he said, gesturing to his torso. “I mean, you offered to buy me a new shirt.”

“Because I spilled my drink on it! I felt bad,” you said.

“And when I said you didn't have to buy me a new shirt, you said, ‘Are you sure I can't pay for the dry cleaning at least, Sergeant Barnes?’” he said in a falsetto voice.

He chuckled when you rolled your eyes. “I don't sound like that, first of all, and I was being considerate,” you said. You couldn't believe he remembered your exact words. “And you just gave me that half confused smile of yours before I grabbed napkins for both of us to clean up.”

“You mean this?” He asked, his lips stretching in that familiar awkward grin.

“Yeah, that,” you giggled, your heart doing that funny flip that happened far too often around him.

In the beginning, whenever you smiled at him, he gave you that very look in return. Somewhere along the way, the uncomfortable glances on his end became genuine fondness. It didn't mean anything though.

Just an agent being kind to another agent.

Bucky stared at you as you continued to giggle at the memory. “I’m sorry. I just-”

“I love your laugh,” he said, almost making you choke on your own breath. Nothing like forgetting how to be a human and breathe. “And your smile.”

Maybe he had switched back into practice mode. “You do?” You asked, playing along as you smiled directly at him.

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice thick as he unfolded his arms. “You know, you're one of the people that actually smiles at me. And you look me in the eye when you talk to me.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Because some people are still afraid of me,” he whispered.

Your heart sank. He was a good man. A hero wrongly painted as a villain. It wasn't fair what he went through and you had no reason to fear him.

Why couldn't everyone else see the good in him?

“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky,” you promised. And after what he went through, frightening people was the last thing he would do. “Never have been. Never will be.”

“Maybe you should be,” he muttered, some of the light leaving his eyes.

Your eyes narrowed as you tempered the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Seeing this vulnerable side of him also brought out your protective instinct. “Listen to me. You’re amazing and a good man, okay? And if I don't get to call myself an idiot for spilling a drink on you, then you don't get to say I should be scared of you, Sergeant Barnes,” you said with an air of finality.

He gave you an impressed smile. “Just like that? Because those are totally different things you're comparing.”

“Just like that,” you said, putting your hand on the table for him to take if he wished. “Do you trust that I'll have your back on this mission? Because I trust that you'll have mine no matter what.”

He stared at your upturned hand for a moment before he took it. “You're one of the only people I do trust,” he admitted.

His eyes bore into yours as you tried to find the words to respond. He wasn’t feeding you a line to make you feel good about yourself. Bucky Barnes trusted you.

“Then trust me when I say we got this,” you promised. You would look out for him and let him know that he hadn’t misplaced his trust in you.

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

“Oh. Well. My last boyfriend dumped me for being an agent. Seriously, he didn't like the fact that I could kick his ass if I wanted to,” you told him, squeezing his hand without meaning to. He didn’t object. “Which I wouldn't.”

“You could kick my ass if you wanted to,” he winked. Physically, Bucky was broad and strong. You weren’t sure you could take him in a real fight, but you could take him another way if he ever offered. “And your ex sounds like an asshole if he can’t stand beside and support an amazing woman.”

You smiled humorlessly. “Thanks, Bucky, but I’m not-”

“I swear to fuck if you talk down about yourself again, I will put you over my knee,” he threatened, his eyes darker than they were seconds ago.

You didn’t laugh as he stared at you. Neither did he. Your clothes suddenly felt too heavy, your body too warm. Licking your lips, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Is that a promise?”

Bucky pushed his chair back and pointed at his thigh, his eyes still on you. “Get over here and find out.”

Oh, fuck.

The sound of Bucky’s phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,” he muttered, taking his hand from yours. “It’s Steve. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” you said, almost knocking the chair over as you stood. “I think I'm going to call it a night.”

“Wait, what?” He asked, answering the phone. “Hold on, punk,” he said, covering the screen as he looked at you. “You’re going to bed now?”

Guilt settled in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. “Just going to lay down. I may not go to sleep right away. And we can practice more in the morning,” you replied. You just needed to step out of the room and take a breath.

He waited a beat before he nodded, the tension still lingering. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, leaving him alone so he could talk to Steve.

You splashed a bit of water on your face when you went to the bathroom to change. The assignment hadn’t started and you couldn’t keep your cool. With squinted eyes, you pointed at your reflection and mentally scolded yourself. Yes, you wanted Bucky Barnes and maybe, just maybe, some part of him wanted you. At least, he wanted you enough to put you over his knee.

You couldn't have him though. Could you? Mixing business with pleasure could lead to complications if you crossed that line, but it wasn’t like you’d break some major bylaw by being his girl.

Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“Get your shit together,” you hissed, rushing through your nighttime routine and changing into your comfortable yet sexy nightgown.

Your eyes went to the bed when you left the bathroom. Just a regular hotel bed. Inviting, but not overly frilly. Large enough for the both of you, but small enough that you might end up in each other’s arms.

“It’s going to be a long night,” you muttered.

Sighing, you left a light on for Bucky to see and crawled into bed, shutting your eyes as he wrapped up his call with Steve. You tried to block out the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom. Maybe his nighttime routine would take a bit longer than you thought and you could drift off and wake up to the sight of his beautiful eyes and-

The bed dipped as Bucky curled up behind you, your eyes opening when he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. You were conscious of every shift in his body, every breath he took. How you could smell his lingering cologne as he pressed himself closer. How he ran warmer than you and you wanted him to heat you up even though you weren’t cold.

And that he wasn’t wearing a fucking shirt.

“I know you aren’t sleeping,” he whispered, his fingers brushing along the fabric that covered your skin. “Your heart’s beating too fast.”

He was right. It was about ready to burst through your chest. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” He asked, helping you roll over so you were on your back. He didn’t remove his hand though. “Did my ‘threat’ make you uncomfortable?”

“No, it didn't,” you assured him, heat pooling between your legs that you couldn't prevent. “I wouldn't have continued with the banter if I was uncomfortable.”

“Just making sure,” he said. “I was only teasing.”

You huffed out a laugh in an effort to cover up the crushing feeling in your chest, your arousal fading to a dull ache. “Of course, you were,” you uttered. Teasing. Nothing more. “Good night, Bucky,” you said, turning your head away.

He brought a hand to your cheek and brought your face back toward him. How did his eyes look so blue in the faint light? “Don’t go to sleep yet, please.”

“Why not?”

“You rushed to bed and now you're shutting down. I clearly said or did something wrong,” he sighed, which made you feel bad. He hadn't done anything wrong in your eyes since it wasn’t his fault you wanted his teasing to mean something. “I need to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix because you didn't break anything,” you said, the ring heavy on the finger. “But can I ask for a favor?”

“Of course,” he whispered.

You didn’t dare search out his gaze when you said, “I may need reminders this week that you don't actually have feelings for me.”

A few seconds went by before he asked in a small voice, “What?”

You took a breath to compose yourself. The last thing you needed to do was get upset for no good reason. “We’re going to hold hands and cuddle and share a bed and be a couple, but you may need to give me a reality check now and again that you only see me as an agent. Okay?”

Maybe he’d ask Steve for a new partner in the morning.

“You think I only see you as an agent?” He asked, sighing when you nodded. “I used to be good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Teasing. Flirting,” he answered, leaning in close. He stopped just before his lips touched yours. “Kissing.”

“Wait. You were flirting with me?” you said, not moving forward or back as you put a hand on his chest. His heart raced as fast as yours. And your brain couldn’t compute that implication that he wanted to kiss you. “You weren’t just practicing for the assignment?”

He huffed out a laugh this time. “You’re killing me, doll,” he whispered, closing the distance.

You imagined Bucky kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered.

You never stood a chance.

“So, you like me?” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole week together for this assignment and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and trusting you.” He chuckled almost shyly as his words sank in. “I took this assignment because of you.”

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Bucky Barnes liked you. Wanted you. “Thank fuck,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the super soldier was an entirely different level of gorgeous. He towered over even the largest of agents, with the exception of Steve, and his dark lashes framing his steel eyes were enough to pull you under.

And who were you compared to him? Just another agent. Average.

“Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth.

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He smirked against your skin before he reached down and tore your panties away. “I haven't gone on a date because of you.”

Your body throbbed with need as you met his gaze. “You're just saying that to get in my pants,” you joked.

His eyes raked down your body, stopping between your trembling thighs as he pushed his pants and underwear down. “If I had my way, I would've taken you out first,” he said, drawing a moan from you when he wrapped a hand around his thick cock. “But all I can think about right now is how loud you’ll say my name when I make you come.”

“Bucky,” you moaned, tempted to reach down and touch yourself to the sight of him.

“Louder than that,” he said smugly, rubbing the tip of his cock along your slick folds. “Fuck, I wanna take my time and explore you. Make you feel like a goddess. Treat you the way you deserve.”

It warmed your heart and sent another wave of desire through you knowing he wanted to take care of you. “I know you'll treat me well,” you smiled, opening your legs wider. “But for now, please, fuck me.”

He didn't ask about birth control, which you were on. You didn't ask about condoms. It didn't matter. You wanted to feel all of him.

You glanced down as he lined himself up, watching as he slowly eased into you. It was overwhelming as you took every inch, your mouth falling open with a moan. You floated in a cloud of lust, the sound of his groan reaching your ears.

“Look at me,” he ordered as he bottomed out.

Your eyes flew to his as he gripped your chin. The feel of him inside you, his eyes staring so intently into yours that he practically touched your soul. It was almost too much. And that was when he began to move, the weight of his body on top of yours as he fucked you in slow and deep thrusts. It was the kind of lovemaking that would make you crave more.

Crave him.

“Knew you'd take me well,” he grunted. You whined, the praise going straight to your core as you tightened around his thick cock. Your walls couldn't stop gripping him as he slid in and out. “Knew your pussy would be greedy for me. Won’t let me go.”

Your head fell back against the pillow, dizzy as he trapped your body under his. As he rolled his hips, you wondered if he’d let you ride him at some point. Maybe he’d fuck up into you as he brought your hips down. Or maybe he’d lay back and cup your breasts, let the weight bounce in his hands as you took all of him.

You’d take whatever he gave you.

The growing pleasure within you was like you were burning from the inside out, each movement from him stoking the flames. His low groans mixed with your whines, his thrusts increasing in speed when he brought his thumb to your clit. Your hand worked its way back into his hair as you cried out his name, your control slipping further and further away as he took over.

“Just like that,” he moaned. “Don’t hold back on me. Wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”

“Bucky, I'm gonna…” you trailed off, your orgasm building fast in your core and ready to burst.

“Come,” he finished for you, a filthy smirk on his face as he laced his fingers with yours.

One more thrust and you were gone, his name falling from your lips as you came. Your mouth stayed open as you spasmed, pleasure rushing from head to toe. You panted and didn't care if you'd ever properly breathe again. That was how good it felt.

“I’m close, doll,” he gritted, resembling a growl as he continued to fuck you and chase his release. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna own you.”

“Come inside me, Bucky,” you begged, watching through half-lidded eyes as his face contorted in ecstasy. It was such an erotic sight. “Please.”

He buried himself deep with a long moan as he filled you in hot, thick spurts, nuzzling his face in your neck when he finished. He said your name as he heavily breathed against your neck and it was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You wrapped your arms around him when he stayed inside you, not at all bothered as your mixed release slowly trickled out.

You didn't want him to let you go.

“Well,” you huffed, a dopey smile on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I don't think we’ll have a problem convincing people we care about each other.”

He chuckled, kissing your warm skin. “And we won't have a problem sharing a bed,” he said, keeping you close as you yawned. “Sleep, doll. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, too,” you said, feeling him smile against you as you drifted off.

The delicious ache between your thighs was the second thing you noticed when you woke up. The first, of course, was Bucky’s arm and leg draped over you: warm, protective, perfect. He was still fast asleep, the blanket pooled around his waist, completely at ease with the world. You could get used to waking up like this.

You hesitated before you touched his cheek, not wanting to wake him as you kissed his forehead. You wished you had time to kiss every scar on his body and worship him the way he said he wanted to worship you. The two of you would have to leave the bed sooner or later. There was work to do.

“Mmm. Morning,” he said, his voice laced with sleep as he cracked an eye open.

“Morning,” you whispered, cuddling closer as he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed over the ring. The motion made you brush against his crotch and you were close enough to hear the hitch in his breath. You did it again, keeping your gaze innocent as he opened his eyes more and groaned.

Yes, there was work to do, but it was still early.

“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?” He teased.

“Yeah, I’m still horny,” you replied. Waking up next to him would arouse anyone. “Need you to fuck me again.”

“You won’t be able to walk if I fuck you again,” he smirked, rolling on top of you and digging his fingers into your waist.

“Should’ve known you’d be a cocky boyfriend,” you teased back, your heart thundering in your chest as he leaned down and skimmed kisses along your jaw. “Sorry, we didn’t put a label on this and there’s still stuff to figure out and the mission and-”

“Hey. Boyfriend, your man, whatever you want to call me, I’m yours,” he cut you off, his mouth drifting to your neck. “And I still owe you a date, got it? You’re my girl. You’re mine.”

“I'm yours,” you gasped when he nipped your skin hard enough to sting, his tongue soothing it after. You were his and he was yours. “So, we're a couple now? Just like that?” You smiled as he worked his way back to your lips.

Bucky answered you with a kiss. “Just like that.”

I struggled a bit with this one after having to scrap almost 2k and go in another direction, but I ended up falling in love with it. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 5 months

Text

Parties were NOT Simon Riley's cup of tea. Not only did they drain his social battery, but he was the type of man that much preferred the comfort of a good book and his bed over that of social interaction.

But today was New Year’s Eve, and not only had Soap practically threatened him to come, you would be there. Seeing you would make attending the shitty party worth it. Seeing you always made anything worth it.

Simon walked into the mess hall, his heart racing slightly as he realized just how many people were here. All of the soldiers still on duty were gathered, eating, drinking, joking. Just the sheer amount of chaos that was ensuing made Simon want to run back to his room.

Until he saw you.

He found you watching TV, nursing on some concoction of drink, a languid smile on your lips as you saw him approach.

“Sergeant.” Simon nodded in your direction as he came to stand by you, thankful you couldn’t see the crimson forming in his cheeks.

“Lieutenant.” You smiled up at him, before letting your eyes fall back to the TV in front of you. "Surprised to see you here tonight."

Simon grunted in reply, his eyes scanning the crowded mess hall, finding his Scottish friend laughing with a group of recruits. "Johnny forced me. Plus, the company isn't so bad."

You turned your face slightly, a blush reaching your cheeks at his admission. "Glad to know my company is suitable for you."

You both stood watching the party for a while as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. This was one of the things Simon adored about you. You never forced him to talk, which frankly, made him all the more eager to do so with you.

“Y/N-.” He began, but Johnny had cut him off with a tap of his glass.

"Alright everyone, begin the count down! It’s ten seconds to midnight!” Johnny called out, grabbing everyone's attention, prompting nearly everyone in the mess hall began to shout out the countdown.

"Ten!"

You couldn't help but look over at your lieutenant, your breath hitching slightly as you saw he was already looking at you, his soft brown eyes softening as they locked on you.

All of the noise in the background, the cheers, the conversations, the sound of the TV, all vanished in that moment. The only thing mattering to you was the way that Simon Riley was looking at you.

"Nine!"

Your many years alongside him began to swirl in your head, all the long missions, the close calls, all those times he risked his life for you, and you for him. All those times he'd let you in to see the man behind the mask, the man that was Simon Riley.

Your feelings for him had only grown in all the time you'd been alongside him, and you found yourself utterly and completely in love with your superior.

"Eight!"

Simon took a step closer to you, his eyes remaining as stoic as ever as they stayed locked on yours. You always hated how you could never tell what he was thinking, could never read what he was feeling by his looking in his eyes.

God, what you would give to be able to know what was going on in that gorgeous head of his right now.

If only you fucking knew.

"Seven!"

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as his he now stood almost chest to chest with you, his frame towering over yours as he looked down at you. You blinked a few times, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him. "Hi."

"Hi." He replied, his tone quieter than usual. His hands began to shake slightly as he slowly began to move one of them toward the base of his balaclava.

"Six!"

You watched as he pulled his mask up, revealing a handsome jaw, lined with stubble. His lips were littered with scars, and you couldn't help but stare at them. From what little you could see of his face, you realized just how fucking pretty he was. As if there was any doubt.

"S-Simon." You breathed out, the intensity of his gaze sending a heat coursing throughout the entirety of your body. You couldn’t help yourself, you let your hand grip lightly at his arm, prompting him to chuckle softly.

"Five!"

Simon leaned toward you, his finger lightly touching your chin as he tilted your face up towards his. You found yourself leaning up toward him, your heels leaving the ground slightly.

His touch was so gentle against your chin despite the rough texture of his fingers, and it took everything in you not to moan at the tenderness of his touch.

"Four!"

“You want this?” He asked, his voice holding a nervousness you’d never been on the receiving end of before. “With me?”

All you could do was nod up at him, not trusting yourself to speak. You don't think you'd ever been this nervous in your life, your mouth running dry in anticipation.

"Three!"

This was it, wasn’t it? After all these years, after all those long nights, those deep talks, those longing glances… was this really about to happen?

"Two!"

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you felt his breath on your mouth, his lips being just a hair away from your own. You could hear him inhale sharply, and watched as his eyes darted toward your mouth.

"One!"

It was as if time stopped when his lips finally met yours. They slotted against yours so effortlessly, almost as if they were made to be kissed by you.

After years of loving Simon Riley, he was finally, finally kissing you. And it was everything you could ever have hoped it would be.

He pulled away a moment later, the smile on his lips now reaching his beautiful brown eyes. “Happy New Year, sergeant.”

A Happy New Year indeed.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2

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yueebby · 7 months

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hii omg I love ur fics sooo much they're really helping me recover from.. gege. I was wondering if I could request gojo x drunk!reader. like maybe they come back from partying with geto and shoko and are just completely tipsy. but they're reallyyyyy affectionate and flirty and gojo literally goes insane like his heart can't take it . bonus points if reader won't stop peppering him in kisses.

"you're sooooo hot.. and- and strong! ohmigosh are you single?" AND MANS IS JUST BRIGHT RED.

preferably fem-reader thanks ^__^ <333

drunk in love — gojo satoru

contents. fluff, established relationship, alcohol (drunk!reader), gojo being gojo, youre drunk and in love but gojo loves you more

notes. anon your request was so cute i just had to write it TT i kind of got carried away from the original prompt.. but enjoy this as a form of therapy from that one eyed cat!! ps i hate drinking so idek if this is accurate :>

the night had been long, and shoko is starting to regret letting you consume what felt like half your body weight in drinks during your night out in roppongi. impatiently, she checked her phone, hoping for a response from gojo to her text message. huffing in frustration, she turned to geto, “i thought you called him. where is that idio–”

"shoko, who is that?" in your drunken stupor, you shamelessly ogled the stranger approaching the entrance of the bar. shoko facepalmed as she watched your intoxicated heart eyes for the snow-haired man.

"she's all yours now."

gojo chuckled when he saw your inebriated state, "what did they do to you?" he had just returned from a tiring mission, but seeing you was enough to lighten the weight on his shoulders.

you shifted your gaze between shoko and the handsome stranger, causing mental whiplash. a mumbled apology escaped your lips before you left shoko's side to get a closer look at the man.

amusement danced in satoru's eyes as he observed you stumbling toward him. as the loving boyfriend he was, satoru wrapped a strong arm around your waist to prevent you from tripping.

you placed a hand on his chest to steady yourself, and couldn't help but notice the firmness of his physique. "so strong," you hiccuped, running your finger down his chest, "and handsome... are you single?" you blinked up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes.

suguru, watching from the sidelines, struggled to stifle his laughter as he observed his best friend's face growing increasingly red. the way you were looking up at him was driving him crazy. satoru cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to regain his composure though it was hard with the way his heart was beating so erratically.

"do you not remember me, sweetheart? your strong and handsome boyfriend?" satoru's glossy lips turned down in an exaggerated pout, and you gasped, confused on how you'd forgotten a face so beautiful. it was dangerous, how tempting the man in front of you looked.

giving in to your impulsive thoughts, you grabbed his face with one hand, squishing his cheeks together. satoru’s eyes widened as he noticed your intent on his puckered lips.

with an impish grin, you planted a series of quick kisses on his cheeks, then moved to his lips.“how,” kiss. “could i,” another kiss, “forget,” kiss, “such,” kiss, “a handsome face?”.

suguru and shoko watched in mild horror, as you showered gojo with affection. a dopey grin spread across his flushed face as he allowed you to have your way with him. he's afraid he might implode from the how adorable you were.

“i’m the most handsome man in the world, yeah?” he asks you with a grin, encouraging you to answer as he pulls you closer by the waist. satoru couldn't fathom what he had done to deserve this, but he would gladly repeat it tenfold if he could relive this moment once more.

you nod happily. “the most!”

“well aren’t you lucky to have me as your boyfriend.” satoru flashes his cerulean eyes at you above those dark sunglasses of his. just when you think he can’t get any hotter, he proves you wrong.

your friends' silent presence is suddenly shattered by laughter, jolting you back into the awareness of their company. satoru’s grin dissipates into a frown when he sees that your attention is taken off of him.

"'[name] is lucky to date him,' so he says," shoko giggles. "suguru, do you remember that one time satoru pretended to be a waiter at the restaurant [name] was on a date?" shoko not-so-secretly says to geto. "he got all drunk and then started rhapsodizing about how he was going to marry her."

satoru gasps at the memory of his awkward pining days. his attention quickly diverted back to you, anticipating your reaction.

suguru hums, “ah, or that one time he got distracted and nearly got us killed on a mission all because [name] sent a selfie.”

you pull away from satoru’s hold and he swears he feels all the warmth leaving his soul. his hands instinctively reach out to you, but you’re one step ahead, already making your way to the evil pair in front of him.

“really?” you ask the two, eyes shining eagerly.

shoko nods, an evil grin growing on her face, “you seriously never noticed that stupid dazed look he has when he sees you? even yaga has noticed it.”

gojo’s jaw drops at the sound of his best friends’ attempt to embarrass him. in his defense, he was just a man in love! satoru's infamous pout returns, and he’s trying to pull you back into his embrace and away from those traitors. to his dismay, you ignore him. did you even know that he was dying by the second without your affection?

“tell me more!” you gush, entranced with the idea that your boyfriend was just a lovesick puppy.

“is that really necessary?” satoru mumbles under his breath, though the telltale reddening of his ears betrays his indifferent facade.

“toru i didn’t know that you were obsessed with me,” a giggle erupts from you. to show your adoration, you turn back to cup your boyfriend’s face. he leans into your touch immediately.

“i still am y’know,” his gaze softened. your heart melts at the way he lowers his voice.

“i can’t watch this any longer,” the short haired female gags, searching her coat pocket for a much needed cigarette. suguru agrees silently, tearing his eyes away from the cloying display of affection.

you don’t notice your friends leaving while you’re too engrossed doting on satoru.

“baby– heh– we should head home now,” he groans softly, shivering upon your fingers tracing his undercut. if you continue this any longer, satoru's brain will be fried to the point that no reversed curse energy could fix. the effect you had on him was undeniably unjust.

“can you run me a bath when we’re home?” you pleaded, your voice tinged with weariness. after a night of drinking in roppongi, you felt the weight of the celebrations clinging to your skin.

satoru's lips curled into a playful smirk as he recognized the opportunity presented before him. "only if you'll let me hop in~"

a mischievous agreement danced in your eyes as you responded, "hm okay." you leaned in to place a tender kiss on the corner of his lips. satoru, his affection intensifying by the moment, gently gripped the back of your head and guided your lips back to his. gosh, he was so in love.

i was going to post all mine but im currently rewriting it so bear with me please !!!!

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk fluff #gojou x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader

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hazelfoureyes · 2 months

Text

I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late.

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence.

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth.

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash.

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off.

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim.

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now.

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow.

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of.

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter.

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you.

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.”

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better.

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so.

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up.

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his.

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror.

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks.

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean.

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile.

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely.

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek.

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon.

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?”

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before.

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad? Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star.

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes.

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.”

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.”

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers.

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man.

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die.

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying.

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy.

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving.

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously. He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there.

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat.

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead.

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps.

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you?

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth.

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.”

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning.

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move.

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch.

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm.

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you.

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone. You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean.

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

1K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 2 months

Text

It Started With an Appendix

Carlos Sainz x nurse!Reader

Summary: in which an inflamed appendix turns out to be the ultimate matchmaker

Warnings: medical ethics are basically thrown out the window

“Y/N, the patient in room 312 is awake,” a voice calls from the hall outside the nurses’ station.

You make your way down the bright, sterile corridor toward the private room, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Taking a breath, you rap your knuckles lightly on the door before entering.

Carlos Sainz Jr. is propped up in the hospital bed, blinking slowly as the anesthesia wears off. His tousled hair and grogginess make him look adorably vulnerable.

“Hola, señorita,” he slurs with a lopsided grin as you approach. “Are you an angel? You must have fallen from heaven.”

You can’t help but giggle at his cheesy line, shaking your head in amusement. “No, Mr. Sainz, I’m your nurse. You just had your appendix removed.”

“Call me Carlos,” he insists, his Spanish accent thick and velvety. “And you’re definitely an angel to me.”

Suppressing another laugh, you check his vitals and make a note on his chart. “How are you feeling, Carlos? Any pain or nausea?”

“I feel ... floaty,” he murmurs, blinking slowly as he looks you up and down. “But you’re making me feel much better already.”

You bite your lip to contain your smile. This man is incorrigible, even fresh out of surgery. “That’s the pain medication talking, I’m afraid.”

“No, no ...” Carlos protests weakly. “You’re just ... muy bonita. So beautiful.”

His boldness makes warmth bloom in your cheeks. You clear your throat. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? The anesthesia can make people loopy for a while.”

“Don’t go,” he pouts, trying and failing to grab your hand from the bed. “Stay and keep me company, hermosa.”

You gently lay his hand back at his side. “I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything, okay?”

Carlos levels you with a look that could melt glaciers. “At least tell me your name, ángel?”

Holding his smoldering gaze, you reply softly, “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he echoes, savoring each syllable. “What a beautiful name. Maybe I’ll dream of you, Y/N ...”

With a flustered smile, you turn and exit the room, his flirtatious words still ringing in your ears. This man is going to be the death of you.

Over the next few hours, you check on Carlos periodically, each time greeted by a fresh cheesy line or thinly-veiled compliment. He’s relentless, but also strangely endearing in his drug-addled state.

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

“Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got fine written all over you.”

“I must be in a museum, because you truly are a work of art.”

You roll your eyes at each one, but can’t deny the little thrill it sends through you. Despite his grogginess, Carlos’ charisma still shines through effortlessly.

By the time your shift ends, you’re almost disappointed you won’t get to hear any more of his terrible pickup lines. You linger a moment in his doorway after bringing him his evening dose of medication.

“Feeling any better?” You ask kindly.

Carlos gives you a crooked smile. “I feel a lot better when you’re around, querida.”

You shake your head in playful exasperation. “Get some rest. I’m off for the night.”

His expression turns almost ... wistful? “Will I see you again?”

Something warm blooms in your chest at his hopeful tone. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” you assure him. “Same time.”

The bright grin that stretches across his face is worth a million cheesy lines. “Buenas noches, mi ángel.”

You don’t bother holding back your smile this time. “Good night, Carlos.”

As you make your way home, his handsome face and melted chocolate voice keep popping into your mind unbidden.

You try to push thoughts of Carlos from your mind as you cook yourself dinner and get ready for bed. He’s just a patient — a ridiculously charming one, yes, but a patient all the same.

Still, as you drift off to sleep, his teasing grin and warm brown eyes seem seared into the back of your mind ...

The next morning, you arrive at the hospital with a new spring in your step. You can’t help but look forward to seeing Carlos again, newly appendix-less or no.

When you enter his room with his breakfast tray, the sleepy Spaniard perks up instantly at the sight of you. “Y/N! Buenos dias, hermosa!”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Good morning, Carlos. How are you feeling today?”

“Much better now that mi ángel has arrived,” he declares boldly.

As you check his vitals, he continues to bat those ridiculously long eyelashes at you. “You must be a hell of a thief, because you stole my heart from across the hospital room.”

You snort at the line, rolling your eyes in amusement. “You do realize those cheesy pick-up lines aren’t going to work on me, right?”

“Not cheesy ... poetic,” Carlos argues with an impish grin. “Poetry for a woman of your beauty.”

You raise an eyebrow in mock skepticism. “Is that so?”

“Of course,” he nods matter-of-factly. “Here, let me demonstrate ...”

Carlos clears his throat dramatically. “Your eyes shame the brilliance of the desert sun, while your lips put roses to shame with their beauty. A sculptor could study your face for a lifetime and never capture its perfection in marble.”

Despite yourself, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks at his earnest compliments. “I ... you can’t just-”

But he’s not done. “While bandits would slay and sack entire cities for even a glimpse of your splendor. Why, the gods themselves weep at being outdone by such a radiant vision of loveliness!”

By now, your face is burning scarlet as he gazes up at you, eyes sparkling impishly. “Th-that’s enough, Carlos,” you manage, turning away and busying yourself straightening his blankets to hide your flustered expression.

You can hear the grin in his voice. “Too much for you, hermosa? I haven’t even gotten to the part about your luscious ti-”

“Carlos!” You squeak, spinning back around with wide eyes.

His mischievous laughter fills the room, head thrown back in pure delight at your scandalized reaction. The melodic sound is utterly infectious — soon you find yourself giggling helplessly along despite your embarrassment.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” You admonish once you’ve caught your breath, trying and failing to look stern.

He winks unapologetically. “I’m just being honest, ángel.”

You shake your head in feigned exasperation, trying to ignore the little thrill his flirtations still send through you. “I should get going before you corrupt me further.”

As you turn to leave, Carlos calls after you. “Until later, mi amor! Don’t forget my poetry books for next time!”

His infectious laughter follows you into the hallway, that bright sound certain to play on a loop in your mind all day ...

Over the next few days, Carlos’ recovery progresses smoothly — maybe a little too smoothly, you think with a private smirk. His cheesy compliments and relentless flirting show no signs of letting up, much to your mingled embarrassment and secret delight.

“For you, hermosa, I would wrestle bulls and paint sunsets!”

“Mother Nature herself must be jealous of your radiant beauty.”

“Careful, or you’ll put the Arabian sun to shame with your smile!”

You somehow manage to roll your eyes and blush simultaneously each time he unleashes a new line. Part of you wishes he would just give it a rest already. But an even bigger part never wants this game you two have going to end.

On your third day caring for Carlos post-op, you arrive to find a small bouquet of red roses sitting on his bedside table. “These are for you, querida!” He announces happily when you enter.

You blink in surprise, taking in the brilliant flowers. “Carlos, you didn’t have to-”

“Of course I did,” he cuts you off dismissively. “An ángel as dazzling as you deserves all the flowers in the world.”

A pleased smile tugs at your lips despite yourself as you inhale their sweet fragrance. “They’re lovely, Carlos ... thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi amor,” he grins impishly. “Though it pains me to give a rose to one who outshines it so effortlessly.”

You shake your head, fighting a blush yet again. “Are you always this much of a shameless flirt?”

His eyes dance with impish delight. “Only to beautiful nurses who make my heart race faster than any lap around the fastest street circuit on the calendar.” Carlos pauses, expression turning serious. “Truthfully Y/N ... I know I’m a patient, but I feel a connection with you. Something deeper than just pretty words.”

You regard him carefully, caught off guard by his sudden earnestness. Part of you wants to laugh it off, dismiss his words like all the cheesy lines before. But something in his warm and open gaze gives you pause.

“I ... feel it too,” you admit quietly after a moment. “I don’t know why, it’s just ... a spark. Like we’ve known each other for years.”

Carlos’s face breaks into a brilliant smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Exactly, ángel! A connection of the soul — that is what it feels like to me.”

He holds out a hand in invitation, eyes soft yet intense. “Come over here? Let me get a closer look at mi amor’s beautiful face.”

You move toward the bed instinctively, taking his hand as he guides you to sit at the edge. His touch sends little electric tingles coursing through you that raise goosebumps along your arms. Even when you’re seated, Carlos has to look up slightly from where he’s reclining on a pile of pillows to meet your eyes, his thumb caressing your knuckles tenderly.

“So lovely,” he murmurs huskily, eyes tracing your features reverently. “A woman more beautiful than Aphrodite herself. And just as captivating ...”

Slowly, carefully, he lifts your joined hands to brush his lips along your knuckles in a feather-light kiss. The simple, intimate gesture steals the breath from your lungs.

“Carlos ...” you start breathlessly, hardly daring to move lest you break the hypnotic spell between you two.

He gives you that crooked, heart-melting grin. “Let me take you to dinner when I’m out of here, mi ángel? So I can woo you properly like you deserve.”

Despite the warm tingles his attention still sends through you, you nibble your lip uncertainly. “I ... I don’t think that would be appropriate. You’re my patient-”

“Just dinner,” he interjects smoothly. “As a thank you for taking such wonderful care of me. I insist on repaying you somehow.”

You search his face, wanting so badly to throw caution to the wind and say yes. He could charm the feathers off a bird, this man.

“Just dinner,” he reiterates in a low, sincere tone. “And if nothing else ... maybe we both make a new friend, yes?”

A slow smile spreads across your face, anticipation blooming in your chest. “Alright then. Just dinner.”

The boyish grin he gives you makes your breath catch. “Excellent! I’ll wine and dine you like a true gentleman, you’ll see.”

You roll your eyes, even as a giggle escapes you. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Carlos lifts it once more to brush his lips across your knuckles, holding your gaze intently.

“I cannot wait, mi amor.”

***

The luxurious restaurant that Carlos chose for your dinner date is dimly lit by ornate lanterns and alive with the sounds of traditional music. You can’t help but let your eyes linger on him as you’re shown to your private table tucked away in a secluded corner.

Even in a simple shirt and slacks, Carlos looks effortlessly dashing. His warm eyes crinkle at the corners when he catches you staring, rewarding you with that heart-melting smile.

“See something you like, querida?” He teases once you’re seated across from him.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks at being so brazenly caught out. Recovering quickly, you arch an eyebrow cooly. “You just look different out of that hospital gown, that’s all.”

Carlos throws back his head with a rich laugh. “Ah, so you prefer me in my natural state then? Bueno, no complaints here!”

You shake your head in amusement, trying not to smile too widely. “Is that ego really as big as they say?”

“What ego?” He asks innocently, shrugging broad shoulders. “This is merely healthy self-confidence, mi ángel.”

The banter comes so effortlessly between you two, like going back-and-forth with an old friend rather than a man you just met days ago. Carlos reaches across the table to take your hand, calloused fingers stroking your knuckles gently.

“Truthfully? I’m just thrilled you agreed to have dinner with me tonight,” he admits in a low tone. “I wasn’t sure if all my flirting was too much.”

You chuckle softly, gazing at him through the glow of the lantern between you. “It was definitely ... persistent. But also strangely charming, if I’m being honest.”

A pleased grin stretches across Carlos’ face, lighting up his handsome features. His thumb caresses your knuckles tenderly as he holds your eyes.

“I meant what I said, Y/N ... I felt an unexplainable connection with you from the moment I woke up in that hospital bed.” His expression turns almost wondering. “Despite my joking and terrible pick-up lines, there was something deeper drawing me to you. Like my soul recognized yours, si?”

You nod slowly, inexplicably understanding exactly what he means. That spark, that feeling of having known him for years — it’s indescribable and yet so real at the same time.

“I felt it too,” you murmur. “A pull, like I was meant to meet you.” You give a soft, self-conscious laugh. “It sounds silly saying it out loud.”

But Carlos shakes his head adamantly. “Not silly at all, cariño. Spiritual, cosmic, whatever you want to call it — I felt it too, and I don’t question these things anymore.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Do you know what the nomadic Bedouin peoples of Arabia call that? Finding your namiah.”

You can’t help the way your heart flutters at the unfamiliar word and the enchanted look on his face. “What does it mean?” You breathe.

“It translates roughly to your twin soul,’" Carlos explains in a hushed tone. “Two souls destined to connect in this life. Bound together across lifetimes, finally reunited.”

He gives your hand a meaningful squeeze, utterly transfixed. “The Bedouins believe when you encounter your namiah, it’s sacred — a reunion that must be honored and embraced, regardless of what life may throw your way. Because you’ve been given a second chance with your twin soul.”

His words seem to reverberate somewhere deep within you, ringing with an ancient truth you can’t fully grasp but feel with your entire being. Impulsively, you lift Carlos’s hand to your cheek, holding it there as you bathe in his wonder-filled gaze.

For a long, charged moment, the whole world narrows to just the two of you sharing this cosmic revelation. Then the spell breaks as you let out a breathless laugh, eyes shining with amazed delight.

“You believe in destined soulmates? I never would have guessed,” you tease gently.

He chuckles warmly in return, leaning back but keeping your hand pressed tenderly against his cheek. “The universe works in mysterious ways, querida. I’ve learned not to question things my heart recognizes as true.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken understanding and newfound intimacy. He grazes his thumb along your cheekbone reverently.

“That’s why I couldn’t stop myself from flirting with you, you know,” Carlos muses in that rumbly tone. “You captivated me from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I knew I had to at least try winning your heart, mi ángel.”

You shake your head in fond exasperation, fighting a smile. “Carlos Sainz, actually a hopeless romantic? Who would have thought ...”

His playful grin is back in full force. “Only for you, hermosa.” Then his eyes take on a hint of hesitant hopefulness. “Speaking of ... there’s actually another reason I wanted to take you to dinner.”

You regard him curiously as the waiter arrives to fill your glasses with water. “Oh? Do tell.”

Carlos takes a fortifying sip before fixing you with those warm, earnest eyes again. “I would be honored if you came to Australia with me in a few weeks. As my guest for the race in Melbourne.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, mouth falling open slightly. “The ... the Grand Prix? In Australia?”

He nods eagerly. “It’s at the end of the month. I will arrange for your travel, put you up in the plushest hotel, everything. My treat.”

Carlos leans in closer, an impish gleam dancing in his eyes. “It would give me the perfect chance to keep wooing you properly, mi amor.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, barely able to wrap your mind around the unexpected invitation. “Carlos, I ... I can’t just fly across the world like that! I have work, responsibilities-”

“Ah, but you’d only need to take a week or so off,” he counters smoothly. “I’ll handle all the details. You just need to relax and be my honored guest for the weekend.”

He gives you that smoldering look that makes your heart skip a beat. “Let me spoil you, mi ángel. Just say the word and it’s yours.”

Part of you is tempted — so, so tempted by the enthralling prospect. A luxurious vacation with this enchanting man who is already well on his way to sweeping you off your feet? It sounds utterly magical.

But the practical part of you holds you back, brow furrowing with uncertainty. “I don’t know ... even taking time off for a trip like that would be difficult.”

Carlos regards you intently for a moment, reading your hesitation. Then he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, voice turning softer yet insistent.

“Y/N, when was the last time you took a real vacation? Away from the hospital, away from responsibility for a little while ... to just breathe and enjoy life?”

You open your mouth automatically, then pause. Truthfully, you can’t even remember. Life has become an endless cycle of work and sleep with little room for anything else.

“Exactly,” Carlos nods knowingly at your silence. “Everyone needs to get away sometimes, querida. To recharge their soul before the daily grind drains them completely. Even an ángel like you.”

He fixes you with those molten brown eyes again. “Let me give that to you, mi amor. A week to relax, to be spoiled and carefree in one of the most beautiful corners of your world.” One side of his mouth quirks up teasingly. “And with a ruggedly handsome Formula 1 driver to keep you company, of course ...”

You chuckle in spite of yourself, warmth blooming in your chest. He has a point — when was the last time you allowed yourself to have fun and truly unwind? You certainly can’t remember. And if there’s anyone who seems like the ideal travel companion ...

Carlos notices your resolve softening and presses his advantage. “I promise you, it will be an experience you’ll never forget. Put yourself in my hands for just one week — let me take care of everything so you don’t have to lift a finger. What do you say, hermosa?”

His gaze is so open and full of restrained yearning that your breath hitches. You search those bewitching eyes for one more long moment, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of a decision.

Then, with a breathless laugh, you give in to impulse.

“Okay! You win. I’m yours for a week in Australia. Show me what you have in store.”

The smile that slowly spreads across his face is brighter and more radiant than the high desert sun. Carlos lifts your hand to his lips to brush a lingering kiss across your knuckles, sending delicious sparks dancing along your skin.

“Your wish is my command, mi ángel,” he murmurs fervently against your fingers, holding your breathless gaze. “I’ll make sure it’s a trip you’ll never forget.”

***

The bright Australian sun feels glorious on your skin as you relax on the private rooftop terrace of Ferrari’s plush motorhome. Leaning back on the cushioned lounger, you close your eyes and inhale the first deep breath you’ve taken in ... well, you can’t remember how long.

For just this fleeting moment, all the stresses of everyday life as a hardworking nurse seem to melt away into the balmy afternoon air. You’re worlds away from the frenetic hospital routine, from the bright fluorescent lights and permeating smell of antiseptic. Here, surrounded by towering palms swaying lazily in the breeze, you can almost imagine you’re at a lavish resort rather than the Albert Park paddock.

Almost.

A fond smile tugs at your lips as the roar of engines echoes across the circuit. That unmistakable sound is your reminder of just how enchantingly surreal this entire experience has been.

When Carlos first invited you to be his guest at the race, you expected some form of VIP experience to watch the Formula 1 action up close. But you never could have imagined the level of extravagance and pampering he had planned.

From the moment you landed, you’ve been put up at a five-star hotel in the lap of luxury — a stunning penthouse suite, complete with a butler at your beck and call plus a private concierge team to arrange anything you may need. Not that you’ve had time to need anything, with Carlos’s personal assistant, Elena, catering to your every whim.

You had tried to object at first, insisting this level of opulence wasn’t necessary. But Carlos merely placed a finger over your lips with a mischievous grin.

“Ah ah ah, mi ángel — you agreed to let me spoil you for a week, remember?” He chided playfully. “No objections!”

Before you could protest further, he pulled you into his arms, warm and solid and smelling faintly of bergamot. “Just relax and enjoy la buena vida for once. That’s my only condition.”

Looking into those warm brown eyes, you found yourself getting deliciously lost as his breath fanned across your lips. What choice did you have but to nod breathlessly and let yourself be whisked away into his lavish wonderland?

And it has been nothing short of wondrous so far. After being settled into your palatial suite with its giant marble bathroom and wall-to-wall windows, Elena escorted you into the exclusive world of Formula 1.

The Grand Prix itself is certainly glamorous — the electric atmosphere, roar of the cars driving at breath-taking speeds, and prestigious crowds dripping in finery and jewels. But it’s the behind-the-scenes action in the paddock that truly left you dazzled.

Elena led you through a dizzying labyrinth of state-of-the-art motorhomes and garage bays with cutting-edge equipment full of personnel bustling about in a flurry of coordinated movements. She introduced you to a mind-boggling array of mechanics, aerodynamicists, race strategists, hospitality workers, and more.

The entire operation felt like the world’s most organized theatrical production playing out before your very eyes. And at the center of it all? A beacon in red drawing all eyes to where he’s leaning against a metal wall towards the side of the garage? None other than Carlos himself.

Seeing him in this element, commanding the hushed and reverent attention of dozens of crew members with an intense yet unhurried confidence ... there was something almost unbearably sexy about it. His typical warmth and charm were overshadowed by a blazing intensity and poise more potent than any poem he could compose under the haze of painkillers.

Between briefings and warm ups, you managed to steal a few stolen moments with Carlos. Whether brushing a clandestine kiss to the back of your hand or pulling you aside for a heated embrace out of view, he always reaffirmed this sublime fantasy was for you … and you alone.

“Having fun so far, mi ángel?” He would murmur, lips brushing your ear as his hands skimmed teasingly down your sides.

You shivered at the gravelly timbre of his voice, rendered speechless by the fire flickering in his eyes. How could anyone put the depths of your experience into words?

So you simply answered by pulling him into a searing kiss, fingers tangling in those sinfully tousled locks. By the time you parted, Carlos’ pupils were blown wide, chest rising and falling heavily against yours.

“Save some of that fire for after the race, cariño,” he’d say thickly with a wolfish grin. “You may just be the greatest distraction I’ve ever had to overcome.”

With one last smoldering look, he rejoined his crew, leaving you flustered yet utterly euphoric. Yes, Carlos Sainz had managed to spirit you away into an all-encompassing dream — one you never wanted to wake up from.

The sound of a nearby door opening brings you back to the present with a contented sigh. You let your eyes drift open again, blinking against the brilliant sunlight as a familiar figure emerges onto the terrace.

“There’s my hermosa,” Carlos greets you warmly, slipping off his cap to run a hand through his ridiculously perfect hair. The simple gesture makes your breath catch as always.

You feel a smile stretch across your face as he approaches. “Hi there, stranger. Taking a break?”

“Something like that,” he chuckles, dropping into the lounger beside you with a groan. “Just a quick respite from the crowd.”

Carlos turns toward you with poorly concealed mischief dancing in his eyes. “Though ... I may have also needed an excuse to see this beautiful sight again.”

You roll your eyes in exaggerated exasperation to hide your giddiness at his flattery. He’s been adorably smooth this entire trip. “Save your lines, Casanova. You already got me here, remember?”

“Ah, but a man can never compliment his lady enough,” Carlos objects smoothly, grasping your hand in his calloused one to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Starting with how radiant you look basking in the Australian sun, mi ángel. A lesser man would get jealous.”

You shake your head, even as tingles race across your skin from his gesture. “Is flattery how you butter up any pretty girl who catches your eye?”

“Just the especially gorgeous ones,” he winks unapologetically. “But there’s only one who’s made me want to be a hopeless romantic.”

With dizzying ease, he leverages himself across the narrow space between you, caging you in on all sides with his toned arms. Your breath catches at his sudden proximity, pulse quickening from the heated look in his eyes.

“Perhaps I should stop with pretty words ...” Carlos rumbles in that velvety accent, closing the remaining distance until you can feel the heat radiating from his body. “And use actions instead.”

His mouth captures yours in a slow, smoldering kiss that has you melting bonelessly against the plush cushions. Large hands splay across the dip of your waist, firm yet intoxicatingly gentle. You melt into the unhurried caress of his lips, addicted to the way he sets your entire body deliciously alight.

When you finally part, you’re flushed and breathless, gazing up dazedly at his twinkling eyes. “You’re ... terribly persuasive, Mr. Sainz,” you manage.

He rewards you with a wolfish grin and another toe-curling kiss. “Only for you, mi amor,” he growls against your lips, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. “Only for you ...”

A tiny gasp of surprise parts your lips as Carlos suddenly freezes, mouth going taut. You tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze questioningly.

“What’s wrong?”

He drops his darkened eyes down toward his palm sheepishly. It’s then you notice the tiny trickle of red seeping from a paper cut across his skin.

“Oh no, it seems our ... passion got a bit too rough,” Carlos grins cheekily. “Gave myself a battle wound.”

Rolling your eyes, you gingerly take his hand to inspect the miniscule wound. Just a thin cut that was reopened, likely from reviewing telemetry packets between briefings.

“It’s nothing serious,” you chide. “Though I suppose I could play nurse for you one more time.”

He gives you a devilish look from under his inky lashes. “Please do, mi ángel. I’ll need your ... very special care.”

You level an unimpressed glare at him, slipping off the lounger toward the rooftop bathroom to grab the first aid kit inside. By the time you return, Carlos has the audacity to be sitting patiently with his lightly bleeding palm extended in offering. Like a king awaiting tribute from his loyal subjects.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” you scoff, cracking open the kit and perching on the edge of his lounger. With the utmost care and tenderness, you gently apply antibacterial ointment and wrap the cut with an oversized adhesive bandage.

“There, all better, your Highness,” you announce with a solemn nod.

But rather than releasing your hand, Carlos envelops it fully in both of his. His warm eyes search yours impishly.

“Actually, hermosa ... there is one last thing that could help it heal even faster.”

You quirk a skeptical brow at him, already thoroughly endeared by whatever outrageous thing is about to come out of his mouth. “Oh? And what’s that?”

The corner of his lips twitches up in that rakish half-smirk you adore. “A magical, healing ... kiss.”

Of course. Of bloody course.

“You can’t be serious,” you laugh, trying in vain to tug your hand back. Carlos simply holds it fast, fervently earnest despite the devilish twinkle dancing in his eyes.

“Completely serious, mi amor! The power of a beautiful woman’s kiss has incredible healing properties.” He pulls your hand close. “Especially from an ángel like you ...”

Warmth blooms across your cheeks at his antics, head shaking in amusement. Even after weeks of witnessing Carlos’ particular brand of cheeky charisma up close, he can still catch you off-guard and leave you deliciously flustered.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” The reprimand lacks any bite as you can’t help but grin back at him, captivated as always.

His answering look is all playful innocence — one you know better than to trust for a single second. “Does that mean you won’t bless me with your magic?”

Brown eyes beg at you over your trapped knuckles, full lower lip jutting out in a pout far too enticing to resist. With a shaky laugh, you finally acquiesce and bend forward to press a slow, petal-soft kiss over the bandage.

A grin stretches across Carlos’ face once you pull back. “My hero!” He exclaims, catching your hand in both of his to nuzzle the inside of your wrist adoringly. “See, querida? Already I can feel the enchanted restorative properties working wonders.”

“You’re utterly shameless!” You let out another breathless laugh.

“Only because you make me crazy, mi ángel,” Carlos retorts with an exaggerated groan, tugging you closer until you half-cover his toned body.

You go easily, resting comfortably against the solid wall of his chest. Strong arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place as Carlos pillows his cheek atop your head with a contented sigh.

“You render me nonsensical and utterly bewitched. I’m powerless against your effortless magic.”

The words rumble through you in that low timbre you’ve become addicted to, spreading warmth from the crown of your head to the very tips of your toes. With a quiet hum of contentment, you tuck yourself tighter into his side and watch the swaying of the palms framed against the brilliant blue sky.

In this moment, the entire world seems to shrink away into insignificance — nothing but you and Carlos tangled in this serene haven apart from all space and time. Nothing but the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, the cocooning circle of arms that sets you ablaze and soothes you in equal measure.

Just as you feel yourself being lulled into a state of blissful relaxation, Carlos presses a lingering kiss to your hair. His chest vibrates with quiet yet fervent words.

“Thank you, amor ... for giving me a chance to make you mine.”

Pure affection blooms golden in your chest at the reverent sincerity of his tone. You tilt your head up to find his warm brown eyes already trained on you. Filled with adoration yet still flickering with that insuppressible spark of mischief and zest you adore so much.

With an impulsive hand curling around the nape of his neck, you pull his mouth down toward yours. As you part, twin smiles linger on your swollen lips.

“And thank you,” you smile wryly. “For having an appendix that decided to take matters into its own hands so we could meet.”

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shoyoist · 6 months

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── 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 : hinata shoyo.

content: fem!reader. public sεx in the back booth of a cafe. dirty thoughts, teasing, fingering, a little overstimulation, shoyo is a liiittle mean but he's just so eager to have you!! mentioned pussy eating at the end.

— . ｡˚ ♡ you just can't wait to have shoyo's fingers in you. and neither can he.

one of the first things you notice about hinata when you meet up with him after his years away in brazil, is that his hands are big.

he'd already been growing taller and filling out when he left — but that was nearly three years ago, and seeing him for the first time after so long felt like a dream — because despite looking the same, he also looked just that different. it wasn't just his hands, really — he was big.

his neck was thicker, the expanse between his shoulder and neck offering much more space for your arms than it used to, as you wrapped them around his neck in a hug. his arms, his chest, his stomach, as they press against yours in the embrace, they feel bigger, more muscular than you remembered.

but what you notice the most, what would be a subtle change compared to everything else — is that his hands are so big. maybe because you hadn't seen his hands properly in any of the pictures he'd sent you, but it was the most surprising change about him.

his fingers that just used to be long and lithe, are now thicker — knuckles tough and edges calloused, the backs of them rosy and tanned and the palms hard and smooth, pink at the rounder points.

and as he holds your hands in his, gives you a smile that pours love and longing and happiness and tender adoration into you as he tells you, “hi, baby. i missed you.” — all you can think about is that you want your pussy stuffed with those fingers of his.

and eventually — because he is after all, your beloved shoyo that would do anything for you — you tell him.

hand in hand, walking the distance from your place to the café you used to frequent together, you tell him that his hands are so nice.

his fingers are so thick (“look! see how big they are compared to mine?”) and then while you're talking to each other over cups of coffee, you finally tell him — albeit slyly and mostly as a tease, you admit that you want his fingers in your cunt.

what you don't expect is for him to immediately oblige.

you're sitting together at the very last booth of the small, cozy little cafe, away from all the windows and concealed from clear view — and you'd thought it'd be cute to fluster him with a dirty little comment, and get him hooked for when you both get home.

but when you tell him, “they'd feel so nice curling deep into my pussy, don't you think?” hinata stares at you for only a few seconds — before he has you pressed against the back of the booth, one legged hooked over his knees and the other dangling over the edge of the seat as he forces your legs open.

“mhm,” he giggles at your wide eyed, stunned expression, wrapping a muscled arm around you and adjusting your position so effortlessly, as his other hand slides past the waistband of your skirt to palm at your clothed cunt. “let's see how it feels, then. oh — pretty pussy's wet already, huh? missed me much?”

you're too dazed by the contact and the delicious feel of his touch on your clit to form words and tell him yes, yes yes you missed him so fucking much, more than he knows — but you think you missed him more than even you know.

his eyes are brighter than you remember as well, you see as you blink up to meet his gaze—

his body language, his confidence, it's so different compared to how he was before.

you'd only gotten together in your third year of highschool, and really you'd only fucked once before he left for brazil — but you'd loved him long enough to know.

this isn't the same hinata that you kissed good-bye at that train station years ago.

correction: he is the same — but he's also more.

you stare, stars in your eyes — and he gives you a handsome, rogueish grin as he slips two digits under your panties and into the slick mess of your hole, like he knows every single thing he's doing to you right now.

to your body, to your mind, to your soul.

it's overwhelming enough, to have the love of your life return home to you after more than two years of being so, so far away from you.

overwhelming enough to see that he has changed so very much, to see that suddenly the sunny, sweet boy you'd fallen in love with has become a fire, a hot searing flame that's ready to sweep you off your feet and singe you, burn you with his kisses and his touch.

but right now, you can't even think clearly about it all — because fuck, fuck, fuck, he's sliding his fingers into you, and it feels even better than you thought it would.

“sh—shoyo,” you whimper, cheek pressed to his chest as he shields your body with his, just in case. “wait, wait — didn't mean right now, i—”

“hush,” he hums into your ear, thumb gliding up to find your clit, and when he presses into the sensitive bud, you can only obey and hush — pressing your lips shut tight to prevent the gasp of pleasure that builds in your throat from getting away.

the café had been pretty quiet and peaceful when you'd both walked inside, and even as you ordered from the counter and brought your trays to the back booth — but suddenly, you're so afraid that people might come and see. afraid that a waiter might come over and see.

“sho—” you try, but he shushes you again, and you feel so hot, it's all so sudden you can't think.

“couldn't wait, sunshine, 'm sorry.” he mumbles into your hair, pulling you even closer, and you feel a little cramped as he tugs your legs even further apart, fingers sliding knuckle-deep into you. “was thinking things the whole time, you're so gorgeous now, can't wait when you're so hot.”

“i—” you whimper again, grabbing his shirt and curling it in your fist. “me too, shoyo, me too.” there's an impatience in the both of you that was hardly satiable when kept apart from eachother, but now, with the two of you like this, there's no way to keep it at bay.

the stretch of his fingers in your cunt is impossible. so much compared to your own fingers, so hot and hungry compared to the toys you use (ones he'd bought and sent home to you during his time in brazil).

he fucks his digits into you like he's been dying to do this to you, like he's desperate to hear those pretty sounds you make in his ear again, like he's been thirsting to make you cum like this forever.

you're going to hit your orgasm so quick, you can already feel it.

you're going to cum slumped in the back booth of this little café, that you'd visited so long ago on your first date with hinata. this little café where you'd first kissed him. this little café where you'd had a valentine's day brunch with him, just two months before he left.

“shoyo,” you can't help the moan that slips out, pussy only clenching around harder his digits when you see the way his eyes cloud with lust upon hearing your voice. “shoyo, shoyo — gonna cum.”

you hope nobody hears you — and you hope that if they did, they'll stay the fuck away and mind their own business, and let hinata take care of you.

you need it. he's so warm, so hot, and he's fucking you so good with just his fingers — thumb rolling your clit just fucking right while he curls his fingers into your velvet walls, giggling under his breath when your pussy squelches messily each time.

“that's right, baby,” he coos, kissing your hair. “cum for me. nice and hard, mkay? else we might hafta try again.”

his voice cracks so well at just the right moment as he says it — and you don't know if it's the zap of need that courses through you at the sound of his voice breaking, or if it's just the bliss he's giving you with his fingers that makes you cum instantly, but you do.

your pussy wraps around his fingers so tight — your own hand flying up to clamp over your mouth and muffle your cry, as your body finally unfreezes and you crash into your high.

knees knocking together and squeezing hinata's arm between your legs, you fall lax against the leather seating of the booth — cushioned by his body because he still has his other arm secured around you — and you cum. “fuck, shoyo.”

“that's good,” hinata encourages, his whisper hot in the shell of your ear. “fuck, so messy. so messy, baby, how do we clean you up?”

you can't help it — and he's making it worse, curling his fingers in, knuckles digging into your walls as he tries to go even deeper, never relieving the pressure he's out on your clit, god— “shoyo, fuck, fuck.” you’re afraid you might shatter into a million pieces right there on the damn seat. you haven’t had someone else touch you in a long time, and getting an orgasm ripped from you like this is almost too much. “sho—shoyo, please.”

“please, what?” he giggles, still unrelenting, like he’s missed having you like this, like he really can’t be a good boy and wait until you get back home before he eats you up and makes you his girl all over again, for the first time in years.

“not here,” you say breathlessly, gulping down the cry of pleasure that springs up your throat when he lets go of your clit for a moment, only to flick his thumb at the ravenous bud again. “not here, please. i can’t—”

“can’t what?” he asks, almost impatient. he bites at your ear, and you feel so fucking hot, so dizzy with pleasure, but you can’t. not in the back booth of a god damn café, where you could just be caught with MSbY’s newest outside hitter fitting his fingers into your starving little cunt.

you grab his wrist and tug, giving him the most serious look you can with all the stars in your eyes. “can’t be like this, shoyo. not here. please? wanna go home. want you in me. at home.”

his lips pull downwards into a disappointed pout, but he only presses his body closer to you, hot and heavy, his weight so new on you. “you promise t’ let me fuck you like this in your bed then?”

the fact that he can make you blush harder with a few words even as he’s got your pussy full of his fingers is astounding, really. but you feel your face heat up as you nod, telling him you promise. you need it more than him. you need him so, so fucking bad.

with a delighted laugh, shoyo pulls away, almost too quickly and you’re forced to stifle the needy whine you want to let out because you know he’ll be on you again in no time if you act like that. he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking on your slick, eyes dulling with lust as he gets a taste of you. “let’s go, then. we can have this date later.”

“wh—what about our food?” you can’t even ask before he’s getting up and pulling you to your feet. he gives you a quick kiss, and your eyes widen when you taste yourself on him. god, it’s almost embarrassing.

“i’ll pay for it now, we’ll tell them we’re coming back in a bit.” he grins at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you up against him. “i can think of something else i’d like to eat right now.”

by the glint in his eyes and the lingering taste in your mouth, you know exactly what he means the instant he says it. and you can’t help but blush again. god, he’s such a fucking charmer. “mm, alright. let’s go then.”

“that’s my girl.”

#₊˚ପ⊹ REKHA™.#₊˚ପ⊹ NYCHTA.#hinata smut #haikyuu smut #hinata shoyo smut #hinata x reader #haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hq smut #haikyuu!! smut #hinata headcanons #hinata drabbles #hinata shouyou smut #haikyu x reader #haikyu smut #hq x you #haikyuu x you #hinata x you

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geltears · 4 months

Text

heart throb

Nanami Kento x Reader

Nanami basks in the presence of his wife, his toddler and precious newborn daughter -> @suyacho girl!dad collab entry

prequel: 3’s a crowd (smut)

cw: dad!Nanami, wife!reader, toddlers & newborns, tooth rotting fluff, slight suggestiveness

Shhh.

Nanami ushers your 5 year old through the door, shushing her and rubbing one of his big hands gently over her head, ruffling the not-so-neat up-do you sent her off with this morning.

The house is silent and cold save for the heat radiating from the kitchen where he knows you've already made dinner and left it on the stove to cool. He swoons at the sight of you when he finally spots you cuddling your newborn on the rocking chair, both your faces scrunched in peaceful delight as you sleep.

"Mommy?" Namiko's whisper isn't as quiet as she hoped and her baby sister begins to stir in your hold, small legs kicking softly at the pink blanket swaddling her.

"Hi baby, how was school?" you coo at her, beckoning her over as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

Subconsciously, you begin to bounce the restless baby in your arms, causing your husband to grin widely at you, pearly white teeth joining the other features on his handsome face.

Nanami watches with pure love and adoration as you shift to fit your toddler into your side, so carefully that your 4-month old just lovingly blinks at her father. His shirt is impossibly tight as warmth blooms in his chest for you and your daughters.

His sweet girls.

Namiko begins to babble about her day to you, most of it nonsensical and completely exaggerated but you smile at her anyway and tickle her belly to make her burst into a fit of giggles as you gush over the details with her. When you finally take notice of your poor husband it's because he's making faces at the baby and his googly eyes have become almost impossible to ignore.

"Hi Ken," you say, leaning to press a wet kiss to his cheek teasingly, "You having fun making faces at Keiko?"

Kento pokes his tongue out at you and Keiko gurgles as she attempts to copy her papa, spit bubbling out the corners of her mouth instead. Ever a daddy's girl, she starts to make grabby hands at him.

He scoops her up and spins around as he cradles her protectively to his chest, making her squeal out more delightful baby sounds and kick her feet wildly.

Keiko is such a strong baby, or so Nanami says as he winces playfully and clutches his chest in faux defeat. Your baby only stares up at him, blissfully unaware of her father's antics with nothing but pure amazement swimming in her pretty brown doe eyes.

Kento kisses her blonde tuft of hair softly. She's his mini-me, he swears.

"Mommy," Namiko croons in your ear, pawing at your side excitedly. You hum. "Can I hold Keiko, pretty please?"

There's not much you can do when your daughter sets her mind on something, especially when she pouts at you and leans her head into your side, attempting to snuggle closer to you.

Namiko doesn't mind having to sit on the baby play mat or having to put a pillow underneath the area that Keiko hovered over. She just basked in the rare opportunity to hold her baby sister that she had begged her papa for.

Nanami remembers the night vividly.

He had just told Namiko a bed time story and finally gotten her to settle into bed yet she still seemed so quiet and broody, a feeling that he recognised all too well. He would pluck the stars out of the sky and exploit Satorou into doing outlandish things if it meant keeping his girls happy but he couldn't help but be shocked as she popped the sudden question: 'Can I get a baby sister?'

"She's so cute," Namiko gushed. She poked a finger at her sister's belly lightly, giggling when the baby girl flashed her a gummy smile.

While your little girl made baby noises at her sister and rocked her gently, your husband had padded over to sit at the foot of your rocking chair.

He kissed your ankle softly, chuckling when you gasped and tried to shake him off. "Rough day baby? Is Kei still fussing?"

Nanami melded both your feet in his big hands, rubbing and caressing the stress away as you sighed in relief. Your eyebrows furrowed and if it were anyone else but Nanami who had spent countless nights admiring the slope of your face, the faint dark circles under your eyes would go unnoticed.

But it was Nanami, your husband, your love.

His heart ached for you and your sweet baby and her habit of bawling through the day.

"Hm Ken," you mused, one manicured hand coming down to tangle in his hair, "She slept 'til lunch."

Your pause morphs into a guttural groan as Kento presses firmly on your calve, working the stress out of you. "I fed her, pumped some milk for her nightly feed- and then you came home."

"See, she's a sweet girl. Just a lil fussy like our first baby, right?"

You giggle at him, forgetting that under your husband's cold appearance, he was still your sweet and charming Kento who had swooped you off your feet in high school and never let you down since then.

"They get it from you," you insist.

There was much to fix in the Jujutsu world, mischief was amock and perhaps, he could sense danger brewing. But for now and in the comfort of the walls of your home, lined with the scent and memories of his favourite girls, Nanami was at peace.

In the presence of his wife and daughters, there was nothing that could upset Nanami Kento and overpower the love he held for all of you.

Ao3

#nanami kento #kento nanami #jjk nanami #jjk fluff #dad nanami #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami fluff #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento imagine #fem reader #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x you #nanami x you #sfw #ella🌬

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delulujuls · 4 months

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the prettiest boy in the paddock | op81

hi there, here comes the 1.3k of wholesome fluff with the pastry boi. its just-uh, i already know that i wanna write a part two for this so watch out!

summary: oscar is feeling a bit down but little does he know that for two people out there he is the prettiest boy in the paddock

warnings: none

pairing: fem!mclarendriver x oscar piastri (ft. lando)

Oscar never had an opinion about his appearance.

Whenever someone asked him if he considered himself as an attractive guy, he would just shrug. Passing by shop windows, mirrors, or surfaces reflecting his image, he never stopped to check if he looked good. The same applied to taking pictures of him. He never needed to have a say in them; he didn't feel the need to improve any shot, as he might not look favorable in it. If the photographer thought he looked great, who was he to judge?

This, of course, didn't mean that Oscar didn't take care of himself; quite the opposite. The Aussie was always neat, smelled good, and sometimes even used hair conditioner, lip balm or even a hand cream. Looking at him, you could notice a handsome, young man with a well-built, slim figure, a pleasant gaze, and an infectious smile.

The fact that Oscar was attractive was especially noticeable on social media. He was adored by fans. The papaya army loved the McLaren duo, and Oscar was no less popular with the ladies than Lando. If anything, sometimes it seemed like his name was shouted even louder.

His teammates also shared the same opinion. Oscar was a good-looking lad, so it wasn't surprising that during conferences, interviews or casual conversations Lando couldn't take his eyes off him and Y/N took every opportunity to throw compliments at him. However, these compliments were one hundred percent sincere and true and Oscar took them very personally, blushing like never before. These compliments were perceived as harmless, friendly jokes by the public, but both Y/N and Lando believed that their friend was the indeed the most beautiful.

However, this didn't change the fact that sometimes Oscar had a bad day. This was one of those days.

With the hood pulled low over his head, the person in the orange McLaren hoodie entered the dining room. Y/N was slowly having her breakfast, scrolling through social media. She usually went for meals early to avoid crowds and have some time to clear her head. Her surprise was evident when someone pulled a chair next to her and took a seat.

"Oscar?" the girl asked in surprise, barely able to see her friend's face under the hood. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I couldn't sleep."

He muttered under his breath and opened a small chocolate packet, pouring it over his pancakes.

Y/N blinked several times, holding her phone in her hand. Clearly, something was off.

"Is something wrong?"

Oscar shook his head and leaned his elbow on the table. He ate in a hunched position, with his back slouched. It looked like he was hiding from someone. Or hiding something.

"You haven't convinced me."

She replied, putting down her sandwich.

The Aussie ate in silence. Only his chin and chocolate-stained lips were visible under the hood. Y/N looked at him, waiting, but when she saw it was better to drop the subject, she returned to her breakfast and scrolling through Instagram.

When Y/N finished eating, she glanced at her friend one last time. He still sat with his head down, swiping his finger on his phone screen. She gathered her things, planning to leave the dining room, realizing there was no chance for a normal chat with Oscar.

"See you around, grumpy."

As she stood up, she heard a quiet question.

"Can you help me?"

Y/N paused and finished her coffee.

"Of course I'll help you, but first I need to know in what matter."

She replied without hesitation, looking down at him. He raised his head and for the first time that day, she had the chance to look at his face.

"Do you have a moment now?"

The girl checked her phone's clock and nodded.

"To my room, then."

Once they were in her room, she sat on the bed and Oscar, after closing the door behind him, walked slowly into the room.

"I'm all ears."

He took his hands out of his pockets and sat next to his friend. He sighed and took off the hood, turning his face toward Y/N in silence. She looked at him surprised, studying him.

"What? You don't have the answer written on your face."

"I do," he replied tartly "You don't see gow terrible i look?"

Y/N furrowed her brows. She had no idea what he was talking about. He looked exactly the same as always.

"You look cute, just like every day."

She said playfully, smiling, but he wasn't in the mood for jokes. He lowered his head and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Acne," he said, resigned, lowering his hands to his knees. "It's worse than ever."

She gently touched his chin and turned his face towards her. Oscar avoided eye contact. He felt embarrassed, unsure whether he was more ashamed of coming to her with such a thing or of his appearance.

"If you want me to help, first, don't touch your face like you did a moment ago."

The girl smiled and brushed the hair from his forehead with her hand.

The Aussie looked into her eyes and, seeing her smile, he felt a little more confident.

"Can you help me with this? I have no idea what to do."

"You're lucky you're friends with someone who has half a Walmart in their makeup bag."

Y/N smiled and stood up, going to the bathroom. After a moment, she returned with a pink headband, which she placed on Oscar's head to keep his hair away from his face.

"Have you washed your face today?"

Oscar nodded.

"What do you use for face wash? Tell me about your skincare routine."

To be honest, there was nothing much to talk about.

"Uh, I wash my face with water, morning and night, when I take a shower."

Y/N blinked several times and looked at him in shock.

"And that's it?"

He just nodded. To his surprise, his friend smiled and clapped her hands.

"Great, I can teach you everything."

"I don't know if I'm ready for that."

Oscar replied uncertainly, but he obediently stood up and followed the girl to the bathroom.

"Don't worry; it won't be anything crazy" Y/N said and took her face wash gel in her hand "It's gonna be Piastri's friendly skincare."

He listened to her even more carefully than when he analyzed the race result with the strategists. He asked when he had doubts, trying to remember every word she said. When he finished washing his face, she applied a gentle scrub and face mask after. After that, it was the time fot rest of the skincare routine. Y/N took a bit of cream on her fingers, which finished off all the major skincare. She crouched down in front of him and smiled, applying the cream to his face.

"Smile, Osc. You are beautiful."

Piastri involuntarily smiled at her compliment.

"Immediately better."

She added, massaging the remaining cream into her hands. For some imperfections, she applied a clear, specialized ointment and removed the headband from his head. She stood up, taking a brush and combing his hair.

"Thank you, Y/N."

Oscar replied, looking at her from below. His brown eyes sparkled as he raised his head to look at his friend.

"You are welcome, pretty boy."

She replied. She wanted to kiss his cheeks but refrained, partly because of the multi-step skincare routine on his face, and partly because Oscar was her friend. But mostly, it was about skincare.

"And you're beautiful, don't forget that."

"Of course, I am" a loud interjection from Lando was heard as he entered the room, making himself comfortable in it, quickly appearing in the bathroom "What's going on here and why without me?"

"You miss everything because you're the last one to get up"

Y/N replied, putting her things back into her cosmetic bag.

"Not true, don't be mean."

Lando retorted, but quickly his gaze turned towards Oscar and the Brit smiled at the sight of him "Wow, Osc, what a glow, mate!"

"Y/N did her hundred-step skincare on me."

"Really? Why are you torturing our friend?" Norris asked, sitting on the edge of the bathtub next to the Aussie.

"I asked her myself," the younger boy replied before the girl spoke up, ready to throw some sort of retort at her friend, "I wasn't feeling very confident this morning, my acne was killing me a bit and it's gotten worse lately."

Oscar admitted, still a little embarrassed by his problem.

"Aw, Oscar," Lando wrapped his arm around him and kissed him on the cheek. "You'd win the competition for the prettiest boy in the paddock."

Piastri blushed and lowered his gaze. A slight smile appeared on his rosy lips.

"Oh yes, you would definitely win."

Y/N replied and put her makeup bag aside, also sitting next to Piastri and kissing his other cheek, feeling a bit more confident after Lando did the exact same thing. Oscar blushed even more and raised his hands to hide his face, but lowered them halfway.

"I can't touch my face, damn it!"

#f1 imagines #f1 oneshot #f1 #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #lando norris #ln4 #op81 #op81 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you

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palioom · 4 months

Text

little dove

summary: your first attendance of a huge feast is bothersome, alone and inexperienced as you are. until the eyes of a certain prince won't stop following you.

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; virginity/innocence kink; implied age gap (oberyn is in his early 40s, reader early 20s); fingering; unprotected p in v; creampie; some biting

a/n: another fic from last summer, hope you enjoy! ; headers & dividers by @/saradika-graphics

follow @palioomfics & turn on notifs for future updates

• masterlist •

Oberyn had been watching her all night already, his dark eyes following the shape of her wherever she went. Between the bustle of the people, her bright orange glowing dress like the sun, rising and settling as she appeared and disappeared, standing around like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

It was adorable, a smirk gracing his features as he watched her wring her hands, smiling sheepishly when someone approached her.

So innocent.

He could see the nervousness on her face from where he sat, the uncertainty, clearly not used to people approaching her.

He could see the heavy rise and fall of her chest, exposed by the deep cut of her garments.

Taking another sip of his wine, Oberyn stood, deciding now was his time.

The festivities had been going on for a while, and even though he had planned on celebrating with a group of people in his bedchambers later, she had thrown those plans into the wind the second he set sight on her.

Something just intrigued him, maybe it was the innocence she seemed to harbour, maybe it was her beauty.

Whatever it was, he had to know more, waiving away another woman that approached him with a polite smile, then walking over to the mysterious woman.

She looked around nervously, playing with the rings on her hands as people passed by her, some stopping to talk to her.

Feeling incredibly out of place at this feast, her first big one, she didn't quite know what to do. Her parents were somewhere, as were her siblings.

The lords trying to speak to her made her feel uneasy, knowing she was supposed to find a possible suitor at some point, but wanting nothing more than to flee this place.

In fact, she was thinking about just leaving, when she was approached again.

Tall, dark haired and handsome. The Prince of Dorne, Oberyn Martell.

She had seen him at his table, stealing a glance every once in a while and looking away when his dark eyes caught hers.

And now he stood in front of her, flashing her a wide smile.

“My Prince.” She said, curtsying as well as she could, perhaps a little clumsily.

Out of everything she had expected to happen today, she did not expect for him to approach her.

“Do you intend to sulk in the shadows all night, my dove?”

She blinked up at him, once again playing with the rings on her fingers.

“I have not been sulking.” A frown graced her face, a slight tremble in her voice. His presence was intimidating, but different from the other people who had approached her. “I have been observing.”

Oberyn chuckled, taking a small step closer to her, watching her step back just a little in return. So close to her, he could practically feel the nervosity radiating off of her, trying to hold eye contact before they moved away again, looking at anything but him.

“Observing by turning down all lords and ladies who approach you?” He said, watching her fingers stop for just a moment, as if she had been caught, before fiddling with her rings again. “I must admit, I have been watching you for a while - you are the only lady not dancing, not talking to anyone. Just standing in your corner, sometimes moving to follow the servants for a drink or something to eat.”

She stayed quiet. Had she been that noticeable? Just by standing around, hoping for a saving grace?

“I assume this to be your first attendance at a feast this big, am I correct, my dove?”

That nickname.

It made her feel warm, a different kind of warmth than the Dornish weather. Running through her in an unfamiliar fashion, her veins like molten metal, a strange feeling moving up her spine..

“Yes, my Prince.” She said, nodding, but not looking at him.

Oberyn noticed how she became more nervous, smirking at the display in front of him.

“My parents have kept me from them for long, I was only ever allowed to attend small ones.” She continued, sighing. “It is quite overwhelming. I am inexperienced in these kinds of things.”

Her words made him inhale sharply through his nose, still smiling.

If she was inexperienced in this, what else was she inexperienced in?

He had wanted her before, but now the desire for her burned even brighter. Oberyn wanted to show her the things her parents have undoubtedly sheltered her from.

To keep their daughter pure for a potential suitor.

“I understand, my dove. Would you perhaps allow me to accompany you to a place more quiet?”

Usually, he did not beat around the bush when it came to a potential partner for the night.

But it was different with her. If he was blunt he would simply chase her away.

She didn’t look at him, thinking about his question.

All the other men and women that had asked before had made her feel uneasy. Unsure why they wanted to whisk her away, promising a better night someplace else.

But the Prince of Dorne? He made her feel different. A heat and a pressure in her abdomen that she never felt before.

She knew of the rumours, that he took many partners, for whatever they did. Yet, as he stood in front of her, charming smile and good looks, she felt herself drawn to him.

Oberyn reached out, placing a finger under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “I asked you a question, my dove.”

His fingers on her chin made her still, just looking up at him with her big eyes, lips slightly parted. The touch made that pressure worse, breath hitching in her throat.

“My Prince, I’m-” She stumbled over her words, unsure what to answer.

He just chuckled, a sigh leaving him. “You are quite easily flustered, my dove. Come with me, please.”

Holding out his arm for her to take, he hoped she would. Such an innocent, pretty thing. There was something so endearing about the way she was behaving.

She swallowed hard, looking from his face to his arm, hesitating for a moment. Something drew her to him, and after another moment, she hooked her arm into his with a nervous smile.

Oberyn walked her away from the feast, the noises dying down behind them as they walked the long corridors.

“What did the other lords and ladies ask of you, my dove?”

She sighed, glad to be away from the bustle in the halls, but feeling uncertain now, a throbbing at the apex of her thighs distracting her.

“They wished to take me away for some fun. I’m unsure what they meant exactly.” She didn’t look at him, too nervous to meet his dark, piercing eyes.

It was intimidating, she had never been in the presence of a man other than her father or her brothers alone. She knew how to behave, for the most part, but nonetheless was it a little scary.

Oberyn smirked, looking down to her, seeing how she only stared at the floor or ahead of them.

“You did not know what they were implying?” He asked, a bit amused but genuinely curious. “My little dove, you must be younger than I thought or your parents simply were too careless with your education.”

She remained quiet, her cheeks growing hot.

A sense of shame washed over her, that he thought she was too young. It was as if her friends were with her, giggling and whispering because of something she didn’t understand.

And when she asked, they never explained, finding it too amusing to laugh and belittle her.

There was something she was missing out on, and she hated not knowing what.

“My dove, you do not have to be ashamed.” He said, his other hand coming to gently rest on hers. “If you wish, I could show you.”

He had been right about the assumptions of her being a virgin, too innocent for her own good.

Walking next to her, he felt something else besides the desire for her, a need to protect.

As if he was the only one allowed to show her, that anyone else would simply take advantage of this fact.

Now her eyes met his, brows furrowed.

“Show me?” She echoed his words. “How? What exactly?”

Oberyn just smiled, eyes leaving hers to look at the guards standing by the door of his chambers.

He stopped, not too far away from the door, looking back at her.

“Do you wish for me to show you, my dove?” He asked, brushing back a strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “If not, I understand.”

She should be wary. Despite him being the Prince of Dorne, she should think about this. But she was curious, so curious about what this thing was that she had been missing out on.

And there was still that feeling inside of her.

“Yes, my Prince.” She said with a small nod. “I am curious, please.”

He chuckled, his knuckles brushing over her cheek. “Please, call me Oberyn, my dove.”

Moving along, the guards allowed them to enter, the heavy door falling shut behind them. Oberyn let go of her arm, walking over to a table to pour himself some wine, then offering her a cup.

She took it with a small nod, taking in his quarters. They were richly decorated, the bed massive.

Just how she would imagine it, if she had ever spent time on that before meeting him.

Taking a sip of her wine, Oberyn laid a hand on her waist with a gentle smile, pulling her closer to him.

“Most people stare when they first come here.” He said, his hand wandering up and down her side. “Don’t be nervous, little dove.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. That was easier said than done, the heat inside her becoming unbearable at this point.

His hand on her side felt like it was burning her, even through the thin fabric of her gown. Like it was hot coals placed on her.

“Have you ever been kissed, my dove?” He asked suddenly, eyes searching hers. Pulling her just a little closer to him.

She shook her head no, slowly. Heart beating in her throat, he was so close to her.

She could feel the warmth of him, twirling the cup of wine in her hand.

“Would you allow me to?”

There was some hesitation inside her, her hands stilling. Should she allow him to? She wanted to, somehow.

Often had she imagined what it felt like, kissing someone.

Her answer came in the form of a nod, her head barely moving.

Oberyn smiled, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

“Oh, my little dove.”

Despite his growing desire, he moved gently, bending down to place his lips onto hers. The small gasp that left her made him chuckle, his other hand coming to rest on her hip and pull her hips flush against his.

She stiffened beneath his touch, liking the way his lips felt on hers, surprisingly soft, while his beard and moustache tickled her skin. Holding onto her cup tightly, she closed her eyes, humming when he deepened the kiss and she tried to match his movements, clumsy and inexperienced.

When he parted from her, she chased after him, opening her eyes when she couldn’t. Oberyn laughed at that, staying close to her, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

She looked adorable, the way she greedily breathed in air, lips slightly parted. Still too nervous, too stiff.

“What do you think, my dove?” He asked, leaning closer again so their noses were almost touching. “Would you like for me to show you more? There is quite an array of things I could assist you with.”

His fingers curled into her hip, and when she nodded, he only smiled wider.

“I promise to be gentle, my dove. A beauty such as you needs to be handled with care.”

She didn’t know what he meant, but it didn’t matter, because as soon as he kissed her again, more eager this time, her mind went blank.

His hand briefly left her hip to take the cup from her hands, placing it on the table next to them, before it was back, pulling her against his chest and making her gasp.

Letting his tongue glide against hers at the opportunity, Oberyn heard her muffled moan, relishing in the sweet sound.

The way she tried to kiss him back was delightful, so tender and new, trying to keep up with him.

Slowly he manoeuvred her back towards the bed, having to hold onto her waist as her steps became unsure, stumbling backwards once, her cheeks glowing even hotter.

The throbbing only became more intense, and when they reached the bed and he gently pushed her to sit at the foot of it, she squeezed her thighs together, looking for relief.

There was a wetness now that felt foreign to her.

Oberyn noticed, amused at the display.

“Are you aching, my dove?” He asked, his hands coming to the belt tied around his waist.

Aching.

It did hurt, but in a different way. Not like a bruise or a cut.

She nodded. “A little. My Prince- Oberyn, what- I don’t understand what is happening.”

Poor thing. Her parents had done a horrible job to prepare their daughter.

To leave her in the dark at such an age.

She watched him undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor before motioning for her to move further back to the middle of the bed.

“You’re aroused, my dove. You feel the need for cock.” He explained, shedding his robe, then crawling over her. “Have you seen a cock before, little dove?”

Her mouth went dry as she watched him undress, now only clad in a dark orange tunic and his breeches.

Aroused.

Of course. But was she really aroused by him? In need of his cock?

She nodded, and she could see a flash of surprise grace his features.

“In the bathhouses, yes.” She tried to hold his gaze, now hovering over her and letting his hand glide down her side. “From afar.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her cheek, then her neck, hearing the breathy moan spill from her lips, feeling her back arch slightly.

“In the bathhouses…” He repeated in a whisper, still some amusement in his voice. “Yet you don’t know a thing about this… about desire and fucking.”

The word felt vulgar, so close to her ear.

And she felt embarrassed again. That she didn’t know more, that she didn’t understand she was aroused just by him being near her, by him kissing her, by him hovering over her.

“Do you want me to show you, my dove? The thrill of desire?” He asked, still mouthing along her neck, gently, just feeling her as she squirmed, her own hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. “How to fuck?”

Her breath hitched in her throat when he sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder, a throaty moan leaving her.

“I- I do not know, Oberyn.” She stammered, fingers digging into his shoulders. The throbbing and the pressure were distracting her, just needing relief. “It hurts, it really hurts.”

His hand moved lower, down her side and to her thigh, gathering her skirts before it dipped below them.

“I can help you, my dove.” His hand wandered between her thighs, finding her dripping already, a soft sound escaping him at the feeling. “Oh, my dove. Wet and gushing like a waterfall and I have barely touched you.”

He sounded pitying almost, his fingers slipping between her folds, raising his head to watch her face when he found her clit.

A hiss left her, looking at him with wide eyes at the foreign feeling. It felt good, strange but good.

“Have you never touched yourself before? Brought yourself to the peak of pleasure?” He asked, drawing slow circles into her clit, with featherlight touches.

She shook her head, trying to keep her eyes open, her legs opening further.

“Never, I didn’t know-”

“You poor thing.” He cooed, kissing her.

When his fingers left her again, she whined in protest, one of her hands reaching out to grab his wrist.

She didn’t even really know what was happening, simply that his touch felt good and that she wanted more.

Needed more.

The burning sensation inside her was so consuming and overwhelming while also hurting her.

“Oberyn, please, continue.” She said, guiding his hand back down but he escaped her grasp.

“Do you know anything about this, my dove? About fucking, the feeling of something stretching you open? Feeling somebody’s naked skin against yours?”

Stretching her open? It sounded painful, she couldn’t imagine how anything could do that, and where.

But she didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to embarrass herself further.

She shook her head again. “No, I don’t.”

He chuckled, his hand coming up to tug one of the straps of her gown down her shoulder, then further down her arm, exposing her breast.

“My little dove, so innocent, so pure.” A sigh left him, watching her face as he touched her breast, just lightly brushing over the hardened nipple. Nothing could have prepared him for just how much her innocence spurred him on. “I will take care of you, just allow me to do so.”

“Please, please, Oberyn.” She whined, desperate. His hand felt good on her, back arching off the bed and into his touch, her head thrown back as she closed her eyes.

This was what she had missed out on, something so good and intense. If only he could touch her again.

Slowly Oberyn undressed her, slipping the garment down her body and kissing each inch of newly uncovered skin. Taking in how she whined and moaned, took in a sharp breath or hissed at the sensation.

She felt exposed, once he sat back and pulled the gown down her legs, his dark eyes raking over her naked form as she laid before him, resisting the urge to cover herself.

So sweet and pure. And he would be the one to ruin her, to taint her beautiful body.

Thank the Gods it was him and not someone else.

“So pretty.” He said, a hand gliding up and down her thigh, the other working open his tunic. “My little dove, all for me to enjoy. I shall show you the heights of pleasure.”

She watched as he shed the garment, exposing his toned torso, the muscles under his skin moving. She was mesmerized, despite having seen this so many times at the bathhouses, when she came to find her siblings or her parents.

His hands moved down to his breeches, opening them just as slowly as he had done with the rest of his clothing.

“It seems as if my little dove has found something she likes.” He chuckled, shedding the last piece of clothing, kneeling between her spread legs, just as exposed as she was.

Cock heavy and throbbing, her eyes were fixed on it.

It was bigger than what she had seen before. But she didn’t know if she should mind that.

“Don’t be scared, my dove.” Oberyn said, moving to hover over her again, one hand on her thigh, his cock brushing against her stomach. “I’ll prepare you to take me.”

“Take me?” She asked, gasping when his hand found that sweet spot again, applying more pressure this time and leaving her breathless.

He hummed against her neck, kissing and sucking on her skin, taking in her sweet sounds.

So adorable, needing to be taught. Not knowing what pleasures awaited her.

His hand moved lower and he felt how she stiffened when one finger pressed against her hole.

“Don’t be scared…” He repeated, slowly pushing a single digit in, groaning when he felt her squeeze around him, her nails digging into his shoulders with a whine.

It felt strange, his thick finger inside of her, moving in and out slowly. Yet it also felt good, her hips rolling on their own, legs opening wider.

“Oberyn-” She moaned, voice breaking, the pressure inside her easing just a little.

His mouth found hers again, continuing to move his finger slowly, his cock twitching at the thought of burying himself inside her soon.

“Tell me how it feels, little dove. You might be ready for another finger soon.”

She whined, concentrating on the foreign feeling, the stretch when he pushed a second finger in.

“It feels good, my Prince- Oberyn.” She breathed, her mind feeling as if it was floating on a cloud, hissing when he scissored his fingers inside of her. “It hurts a little, but it feels good.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek and down to her jaw, then down her neck again.

“My dove, you feel splendid, gripping my fingers so tight with your sweet cunt.”

Something inside her built, blood hot like molten metal as it rushed through her, building her higher and higher until he took his fingers from her again.

A noise of protest died in her throat, his teeth softly sinking into her shoulder.

He grinned at that, lifting his head to look at her, bringing his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a deep hum.

“Finer than any wine.” Oberyn said, positioning himself so his cock was lined up with her. “My dove, I promise to be gentle. It may sting nonetheless.”

She nodded, drowsy and wanting nothing more than this ache to end. He said his cock would help, and so she wished for nothing more than him to enter her where his fingers just had been.

“Please, help me relieve this ache.” She said, feeling him against her, so much thicker than his fingers.

Oberyn watched as he entered her, grunting at how tight she still was, seeing her eyes squeeze shut and take a sharp breath.

It stung, he hadn’t lied about that, his lips finding hers as he pushed in further, muffling her whimpers while he buried inch after inch inside of her.

All the way until he was fully sheathed inside of her, hips flush against hers, one of his hands coming to rest on her thigh, squeezing it gently.

“It hurts, Oberyn.” She breathed when he broke from her, looking back at him, his lips on her cheek again.

“I know, my dove. You will feel better soon, don’t you worry.”

It was so new, the sensation of being filled, of him inside of her and stretching her out just as he had said.

Overwhelming, someone being so close to her, inside of her, his hot skin against hers, his soft lips on her cheeks.

The pain slowly fading into a need, the throbbing returning, as did the pressure.

Her hips moving on their own, making him chuckle, the sound vibrating against her chest.

“Are you sure you wish to continue already, my dove?” He asked, kissing a spot just below her ear that sent a shiver through her. “I cannot stop myself if we do, your cunt is simply too tight and inviting.”

She nodded, whispering a silent please.

So he slowly pulled back, setting a lazy rhythm of shallow thrusts, her dragged out moans like music to his ears, a little symphony written just for him as he drove back into her over and over again.

“You feel perfect, my dove, what an honour to teach you about the pleasures of the flesh.” Oberyn groaned, his hands grabbing her legs and wrapping them around his hips, making her whimper loudly. “You won’t find a nicer cunt than that of this little virgin dove.”

She let him move, rolling her hips, trying to meet his thrusts, that something inside her building again, becoming stronger this time.

If this really was what she had been missing out on, what she had been ridiculed for, she never wanted it to stop now that she had it.

The feeling pleasant as the ache became less and less present.

Oberyn had to hold back to not just drive into her with his entire force, losing himself in how good she felt, but still wanting this to be something good for her, as much as he desired her.

Already knowing he would seek her out again and again, her innocence far from gone, her sounds so sweet in his ears, her hands so soft as they grabbed at him, trying to find purchase on his body.

“My dove, you are close, I can feel you.” He rasped, his movements becoming sloppier, lips dancing over her skin. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Close to what?” She asked, words catching on her breath, feeling something but unsure if it was what he meant.

Gods, she was so adorable.

“Oh, you will see, my dove.”

His hand moved between them, finding her clit.

And with just a few movements, something snapped inside of her so suddenly and with such force that all breath left her, a strangled noise catching in her chest as her veins burned, the pressure in her abdomen released.

She was trembling, holding him against her tightly as he kept moving, thrusts harsher now.

“There you are, my little dove, isn’t that wonderful? The heights, the peak?”

It was a pretty sight, her face contorted in bliss and pleasure but also so shocked by what was happening to her, by these new feelings.

She could only whine, falling silent when she heard him grunt deeply into her ear, stilling above her.

Spilling himself deep inside of her before rolling off of her, not separating but rolling her with him so she came to rest on top of him.

She felt exhausted suddenly, the euphoric feelings still coursing through her veins.

And he felt solid beneath her body, catching his breath just as she did, his hands carding through her hair.

“Now, my dove, how do you feel?” He asked, watching her face as she rested on him. “Are you satisfied?”

If anyone had told her just a few hours ago that she would land in the bed of the Prince of Dorne, she would have laughed at them.

But now, it seemed quite nice.

She nodded. “I feel exhausted, but I am very grateful for what you showed me.”

A smile stretched her lips wide, he liked it. She seemed to be less nervous.

He chuckled, one hand wandering down to smooth over her back. Normally he would be far from done, already planning another round of pleasure.

But she truly seemed too exhausted by this. After all, she hadn’t even known about any of this until now.

Her eyes drifted shut, but she was still awake, listening to his heartbeat.

“Oh, my dove.” He said quietly, kissing the top of her head. “There is so much more to show you, I am far from done with you.”

She felt warm at the idea, curious what else there was to discover. Her eyes felt too heavy to open them again, slowly drifting off into sleep on top of him.

Oberyn simply smiled, sighing deeply.

Yes, he was far from done.

There was so much to learn, so much to discover.

And he couldn’t wait to see her face once he began to truly teach his little dove.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell x you #game of thrones #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedrostories #my writing

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cyborg-franky · 4 months

Text

Their reaction when you give them your number

Some headcanons!

SFW GN Reader Chars: Ace, Robin, Marco, Kid, Killer, Buggy

Ace

He’s been flirting back and forth with you the entire time you’ve been working. He came in for his brother's friend's birthday but has spent more time talking to you and honestly? You didn’t mind. He was cute, funny, and very sweet. His flirting was a little awkward at times, you guessed as handsome as he was he had some self-esteem issues. But the more you talked with Ace the more his confidence grew.

It was late and pretty quiet, he chatted to you about his brothers as he leaned on the bar, you cleaned and got ready to close, just enjoying his voice, and how genuinely caring he seemed. It was then you grabbed a piece of paper, wrote your number on it, and slid it across the bar.

“What’s that? How much of a tab did me and those idiots wrack up…” He hummed and flipped the paper over, his eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up when he saw the number. You couldn't help the sly smile on your face when you could see the blush on his cheeks, even in the low light of the bar.

You sure hoped he’d call. He chuckled and put it in his pocket, trying to act cool about it even with his cheeks on fire.

Robin

She had to have been the most beautiful woman to have ever set foot in your store. The way she walked around in her summer dress, the fabric flowy in the breeze, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear as she picked up a huge heavy book, her eyes scanning each with a smile on her lips.

You felt entranced and intimidated by her in equal measure. Each movement was poised and elegant. She glanced over her shoulder and saw you staring at her, the sparkle of mischief in her eyes reached the sly smirk.

Grabbing an arm full of books so big you could murder a man with she set them down on the counter and you had to try and remember how to talk again. “Is it okay if I buy a coffee and read one of these?” You nodded, she could have robbed you and you would have thanked her.

As she paid for her books you quickly wrote your number on a note and slipped it in one of the books as you placed it in a bag for her. She bought her coffee and books and sat down on one of the big armchairs. You gripped the edge of the counter when you noticed she went right for the book you’d put your number in.

Robin saw the piece of paper and shot you the most wickedly sinful smile you felt your heart would explode.

Marco

He came into your work at least once a week, maybe more, and his order was always the same. He was a creature of habit but never boring. You always stood and chatted with him between his order and bringing it to him. He was polite and handsome and always had this lazy smile on his face that you found yourself looking forward to seeing.

Marco always had a kind word for you, would comment on your hair, how you wore it that day, how your new shirt was nice and suited you. He was full of compliments but he never came across as creepy. You adored his voice, his laugh, and how he always had a crazy story about his friends.

You felt like you knew them.

One night he came in with some of those said friends, a rowdy bunch but just like him, polite and chatty. You set down the tray of drinks and Marco leaned back in his seat taking his. “They make the best drinks, it’s why I come back all the time,” Marco said before sipping his drink.

“Yeah, right, that's the only reason.” Thatch teased and got a nudge. You didn’t know what the man meant by that but Marco met your eye and gave you a sheepish smile.

The group all started to leave and the man with the big hair, Thatch, came over to pay the bill. “Hey, I think you and Marco might have a sweet spot for one another, sorry if I’m misreading that but… maybe you could give me your number, to pass on?”

You blinked, processing what he was asking before grabbing a coaster and writing it on. Thatch paid and practically ran to Marco and brandished the coaster at him. “Got you a present!” Marco looked at it, then back at you. You watched as the smirk on his face grew and he placed it in his pocket.

Kidd

His entire group was loud but you didn’t mind. You were used to his sort coming to this bar, parking their motorbikes outside, and stomping into the bar with their heavy boots and loud voices. They’d been polite enough to you though.

Serving them rounds of beers when they raised their hands, always paying. You knew this group pretty well by now. The red-haired man who was the leader spoke with you casually. He leaned on the bar and laughed at jokes and comments yelled over the room at him.

“Got anything fun planned this weekend?” You asked as you handed him another beer, he took a swig before thanking you. You could see him thinking over your question, you always had a feeling he and his gang got up to all sorts. Maybe he was debating on what he could tell you.

��Nah, unless you wanna finally fess up to being into me an’ wanna hang.” He said, the smirk on his painted lips, showing his teeth. He was cocky and overconfident but God daaamn did it work.

“What makes you think I’m into you?” You asked, well, he was right but still.

“Babe, I just know, so gunna give me your number or do I have to beg?” Kidd asked with a gleam in his eyes. You loved feeling you had all the power in this situation. You met his eye before ripping off a piece of a poster hanging up behind you and putting your number on.

“You don’t have to beg, this time.” You chuckled and handed it to him. He laughed loudly and put it in his jacket pocket, looking smug.

He’d won.

Killer

Killer came into your shop every other week, always for something for his bike. It could be a check-up, a new decal, a sticker or just to get someone to clean it. He was a man of few words but he was pleasant to be around. His small talk was never dull or seemed forced, he enjoyed hearing your stories and learning about you.

Sometimes you even got to hear his voice, get to learn about his life; How he was part of a group who drove around together. You were very intrigued by him. The way he’d take off his helmet and all that blonde hair would come tumbling out, you could have sworn the world become slow motion whenever he did that.

He was gorgeous.

“Going for a drive this weekend?” You asked when he set down his helmet, one of the mechanics working on his bike already. He shook his head “Just thought I heard something when I’d started her,” he said and stared across the room.

Killer didn’t leave, didn’t go for a walk, instead while his bike was being checked he simply stood and talked to you. It was nice, he was a good guy. The mechanic came in and handed you the paperwork. You looked it over.

“Good news! The small issue has been fixed and since your in here all the time we won’t charge the normal rate,” your heart was beating when you sneakily wrote your number on the paper and handed it to him.

He said his goodbyes and walked away, reading over the paper before he noticed the number, he turned and looked at you. Wordlessly, effortlessly cool he just gave you the thumbs up and grinned.

Buggy

He was a strange guy, how he seemed to think he was so slick every time he came in. Acting like this wasn’t the 18th time he’d been in this week. He was strange, sure, but he was cute and no one had made you laugh so much. Sometimes you didn’t think he meant to be funny on purpose, his charm was just a silly guy.

But as goofy as he came across he was still unreasonably handsome and had his own brand of charisma that had you so taken with him. He came in on his way back from work and asked for his regular order, which you knew by heart now.

He would go on about his day, complaining about someone called Shanks that he worked with. The way he told his stories was so over the top and so hilarious that you couldn’t help but stand there chuckling and hanging on to his every word.

“So yeah, that dickhead set me back like 20 minutes.” He mumbled and sipped his shake, eating a few fries “Well, hopefully, your weekend will be better.” you said as you refilled the napkin holder.

“I’ll still be in though, I gotta get my fix.” He said and held up his drink, you weren’t sure if that was all he meant either. “Oh no, I won’t be in, I have the day off.”

He seemed crestfallen at that news, deflating in his seat with a frown. “Ah..” he mumbled as he stuffed more fries into his mouth. “But maybe we can arrange something?” you pulled out a napkin and wrote down your number, setting it next to him.

Buggy had been drinking at that moment, he stared at your number and snorted, his shake and the straw shooting to the back of his throat, causing him to splutter, some of his drink coming out of his nose as he became a flustered mess.

You laughed and watched him grab at handfuls of napkin to clean himself, wheezing as he did so, trying and failing to calm himself down, he croaked out “Sounds great…”

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sanatomis · 22 hours

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cw. none except satoru being disgustingly cute (part 2)

satoru isn’t used to people calling him anything other than his surname. gojo-san to most, gojo-sensei to others. it’s simple, and gets the job done.

only a handful of people stick to calling him by his given name. to them, he’s satoru. it’s easy, and rolls of the tongue, and he greatly prefers it over the sound of his surname. it makes him feel like an actual person.

satoru never entertained the possibility of being called anything else other than those two names. he didn’t think it would ever happen.

for once, he was glad to be proven wrong.

“tough day, pretty?” you ask gently, and he sighs with a nod as he throws himself into your opened arms. his body moulds easily into yours, and he lets out a heavy groan as he settles onto the couch with you. the groan is loud, and over-exaggerated.

it’s so satoru.

you have to stifle a giggle.

“everything went horribly wrong,” he grumbles, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “the higher ups were up my ass again, my students laughed at me again, and when i finally made it to that bakery you liked they were out of your favourite pastries so i couldn’t get them for you—again!”

“oh, my poor baby,” you coo, and gently push his bangs out of his face. he nods in agreement, faking an immense amount of sympathy for himself. “‘s okay, at least you tried, hm? i think that’s very sweet.”

satoru hums, as if he’s deeply thinking about your words. “’m still your baby?” he mumbles, deciding that’s the most important thing right now. his eyes briefly flutter shut, consumed by utter bliss as you play with the hairs on his undercut.

“mhm, still my baby.”

“yeah? what else am i?”

this time you do giggle. he does this sometimes. you aren’t exactly sure why—but on tough days, satoru likes to crawl into your arms and listen to you call him every cheesy nickname under the sun. it’s easily providable and makes him so very happy, so you always indulge him.

“my honey bun.”

“and?”

“my boo bear.”

“mhm.”

“my sweetheart.”

“yes?”

you laugh softly. “my mochi,” you coo, and pinch his cheek. it’s a little squished because he’s laying on your chest, but it emphasises your point.

he grins under your touch. it’s adorable.

“keep them coming, please?” he asks, and you do. you always do, unable to refuse him. especially when he asks so sweetly.

“my sugar cookie.”

“my muffin.”

“my baby cakes.”

“my angel.”

“my love.”

“my husband.”

“h—huh?” satoru stammers, looking up from your chest. he lays his chin on your sternum, baby blue eyes blinking up at you. they’re filled with awe, surprise, and utter glee. “that’s, i’m not. . .”

“just testing the title, baby,” you tell him, and continue playing with his hair. he bathes in your touch and you smile softly as he grabs and kisses the palm of your hand. “what do you think, hm?”

“i think you should call me it again.”

“oh?”

“mhm,” he mumbles.

“my dearest husband.”

“again.”

“my handsome husband.”

“again.”

“my sweet husband.”

“again, please?”

you hum, impressed. “my well-mannered husband.”

satoru chuckles, and lays back down on your chest. his white hair tickles against your skin, and he sighs in content.

“i think i want to be your husband for real.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he mumbles and nuzzles further into your hold. “y’ve got the same ring size still, right?”

“i sure do,” you say, a content smile on your lips as you watch him slowly doze off to sleep.

“hm, good to know.”

for satoru, those nicknames make him feel as if he’s something even greater than a person—it makes him feel yours.

he’s not just gojo, the strongest. he’s not just satoru, the at-times somewhat immature adult with the sweet tooth of a child.

he’s yours. your baby. your honey bun. your boo bear. your mochi. your boyfriend. your love. and for satoru, there’s no greater thing in the world than that.

#ꕤ — sanatomis darling: gojo satoru #usually i list the nicknames i have from him of the top of my head but i’ll admit it guys #i opened my notes app for this one #i call him so many nicknames i know mimi is sick of us #very self-indulgent once again my apologies (or not)#HES JUST SO #adorable #he’s everything and he deserves every nickname #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader fluff #satoru gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #⍣ ❥ ೋ 𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑖-𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒.#sneaking it in again guys sorry

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bruisedboys · 5 months

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i love ur writing sm 🥹 since we got jealous!finnick can we get jealous!reader and how finnick reacts to it? ❤️

“Baby, come on.” Finnick follows you out of the glass elevator, almost jogging to catch up with your angry march. You speed up pointedly. “What did I do?”

“Nothing, Finnick,” you say sharply, without looking at him. The entire elevator ride was heavy with your silent irritation. You don’t want to talk about it, obviously.

“Well, why are you acting like I did?” Finnick presses.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You— sweetheart.” Finnick snags your wrist and pulls you back. You scowl, annoyed at being pushed around. You struggle in his grip but he only grabs your other wrist, holding you still. It’s times like this that you hate having such a muscular boyfriend.

“Come on,” he says, practically begging with you now. “What’s the matter? I don’t understand why you’re so mad.”

“It’s nothing,” you say through your teeth, still struggling against his grip.

Finnick rolls his eyes and holds you tighter, his fingers digging into your wrists. “Is this about Johanna?”

“What?” You falter in your attempts to escape. It is about Johanna, actually. You’d rather he didn't know that, though. “Why would it be about Johanna?”

Even to your own ears your incredulity sounds fake, your voice a notch too high. Finnick stares at you hard and you look away, burning hot under his gaze. Big mistake.

“So it is about her?” he asks slowly. You can hear the knowing smirk in his voice.

“I don’t—“ you stammer, desperately trying to string together a lie that’s not as embarrassing as the truth. You stare at him and his awful grin for a few seconds, fuming. Then, “Fine, yes, it’s about Johanna. She wouldn’t leave you alone!”

“We talked for ten minutes, honey,” Finnick says, measured to your frantic. “You know she’s just a friend.”

“She called you handsome and then winked at you,” you say, mortified, your act completely forgotten. "What am I supposed to think about that?"

You realise your mistake too late — you’ve given yourself away. You’re about to take it back in an attempt to save yourself from an onslaught of teasing when Finnick laughs.

“So you’re saying I’m not handsome?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

Bastard. You hate him, you swear.

“Never mind,” you say bluntly. “Whatever.”

You twist out of his grasp and stalk off. You’re still absolutely rolling in annoyance when you get to yours and Finnick’s shared room. You get as far as the entryway before Finnick’s on you again like a hawk. He grabs you while you're sliding your shoes off and pushes you none too gently against the nearest wall.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Sure you are. You just laughed at me!" You say incredulously, hitting him in the chest.

“Because you’re being silly, darling," Finnick says. Somehow, he makes it sound affectionate. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. "Johanna’s a friend. How can you think I’d ever look at anyone else that way when I have you, hm? I’m yours forever, sweet girl."

You blink at him. What is his problem? He laughs at you for being jealous and then says something as life ruining as that? He’s gonna be the death of you one day.

"You really need to stop saying things like that,” you say weakly.

Finnick tilts his head to the side, a knowing look in his ocean eyes. “Why’s that?”

You glare. “You know why.”

Finnick just laughs. “You’re adorable.”

You’re about to tell him to shut up when he kisses you, too fast for you to see it coming, too lovely for you to stop it. His mouth is warm. He tastes like wine. You forget you’re angry at him. When he’s kissing you like this, you have no reason to be jealous. You guess you never really did.

“I’m sorry,” you say when he pulls away. His kiss has unravelled you. Sucked away all your anger and hot jealousy. “For being so mad at you. S’not your fault.”

"It's okay," Finnick tells you, shrugging. He dips down to kiss you again. You push up on your toes to reciprocate his heat, your hand pushing up to love on the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s pulling back before either of you can get too carried away, a smug smile on his pretty mouth as he says, “Jealousy looks good on you, baby."

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it 🤍

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luvh4nji · 5 months

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𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐙 + 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐒/𝐎

warning: general drunkenness, reader is referred to as "girl" in san's

seonghwa ; he's so unbelievably soft for you. something about having his pretty baby so in love with him, hanging off his arm and pressing your side impossibly closer to his, even when you're not completely yourself, makes his heart swell in his chest, his stomach doing somersaults.

"be careful, love." he chastises you gently, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to his side, thumb rubbing little circles on the skin of your shoulder. "don't want you getting into trouble, yeah?" and you just swoon over him, turning in his hold so your arms snaking around his own shoulders, nuzzling into his chest. and you're too hazy to notice the soft look in his eyes and the soft blush that covers his cheeks.

hongjoong ; he seems like the type to be a little insecure in a relationship. he's so busy, he porbably doesn't feel like he gives you enough attention and it gets him down a little bit. the question of what if you find someone who treats you better? always sits in the back of his mind. but when you get all clingy and sweet with him when you get a little drunk at the studio, his worries almost seem to dissipate.

"and those are the reasons why..." you start, cutting yourself off with a hiccup, resting your head against his chest from your spot in his lap. "those are the reasons why i love you." you finish, smiling to yourself in your drunken daze. "ah, okay, i see. " he indulges, nodding and smiling down at the mess you are in his lap. he hears something that sounds like a muffled "you better" coming from you, feeling the vibrations of your voice as he runs his fingers down your back.

yunho ; he would think you're the cutest thing he's ever seen <3 he's truly the type to be completely entranced by his partner and to see you have that same reverence for him? it just makes him so, so happy. he's the type to have you close to him all night, sitting in the booth of the bar wiht his arm slung around your shoulders while you lean against him, ead on his chest, hand lifted to hold his, looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

"you feeling okay, baby?" he asks, noticing how quiet you'd gotten. and you'd just nod against his chest, sniffing a little bit from the drinks, mumbling that you're fine and that you just want to look at him, blinking slowly as you explain yourself. and he gets so red, smiling brightly and keeping you close to his chest proudly while the rest of the guys at the booth tease you relentlessly.

yeosang ; he gets so shy and flusterd, poor guy :( he's not a very touchy person, generally speaking, so when you go to him, laying your head in his lap where he was sitting on the couch in your apartment, once the sleepy affect of the beverage has sunken in, gazing up at him with big, lovestruck eyes, he can't help the soft pink that colors the shells of his ears.

"are you okay, y/n?" he asks, voice low, with that shy quality to it, as you look up at him, your hand reaching to cup his face, fingers tracing his birthmark delicately. "better than okay, sangie." you grin, running a thumb over the crest of his cheekbone. "i got so lucky-- to have someone to beautiful." you hiccup through your words, making him look up and away from your reverent expression, biting the inside of his cheek to hold in a smile.

san ; loves it. adores it even. you already knows he's absolutely a clingy drunk and he loves that you are too because it just proves to him how perfect you are for each other. he's the type to believe in soulmates and this is his sign. he just loves how you look at up at him, blinking slowly, and grabbing his hands, pressing little kisses to his knuckles and telling him how how handsome he is.

"yeah, honey? i'm the prettiest boy you've ever seen?" he asks, half-teasing, but you just nod in agreement, movements slow and lazy due to the alcohol flowing through your system. "i'm glad you think that." he says through a soft smile, reaching to ruffle your hair from you're leaning against his chest. "cause you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen. makes us a perfect match, doesn't it?"

mingi ; adores you when you get clingy. he's absolutely the type to revel in your physical nature. he loves how you excited you get to see him when he comes to pick you up from the bar after your friends had called him, asking for his assistance in getting you home. he loves how you run up to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, telling him how much you missed these past few hours that you'd been out.

"missed me?" he asks, only half-teasing, laughing to himself when you nod against his chest, mussing your hair in the process. "i missed you, too, honey." he grins, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. "now lets get you home, yeah?" and he smiles to himself at how you cling onto his arm, grip vice-like in the car.

wooyoung ; he doesn't seem like the type to let himself be soft often. he feels like he has to be funny or flirty or abrasive at all times, but all those walls come down when he's around you, especially when your uninhibited and he knows you need his help. his voice gets so soft, touch gentle as he lets you wrap yourself around him, nuzzling into his chest, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin there.

"okay, baby," he starts when your body goes nearly limp against his. "you think it's time to go home?" and you just shake your head, hair mussing against him, before raising your gaze to meet his and mumbling something about how you'd go wherever he wanted you to. and he'd just laugh, soft and warm, wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you out of the bar. "alright, alright. let's get you home, lovey.

jongho ; although he doesn't necessarily seem like the clingiest person himself, he does seem like the type to enjoy having a clingy partner. it has something to do with him liking to be needed. it makes his chest puff up in pride and his eyes shine when you latch onto him. especially when you're all hazy and uninhibited, letting him take care of you.

"oh, really?" he grins pulling you close to him as you grapple onto his strong arms as you mumble something about how strong he is and how you adore him and everything he does for you. "you need me that much?" he asks, tone almost condescending if it wasn't him, and if you weren't inebriated. he shifts his grip around you as you nod againist his arm, staring up at him with big, sparkly eyes. the image of you so adoring of him makes his heart swell in his chest, biting his lip and trying to swallow his smile.

#ateez #atz #ateez reactions #atz reactions #ateez imagines #atz imagines #ateez fluff #atz fluff #ateez headcanons #atz headcanons #jung wooyoung #park seonghwa #choi san #kang yeosang #song mingi #choi jongho #kim hongjoong #jeong yunho

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