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#have I mentioned that I love his little tucked shirts
moonstruckme · 3 days
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Hiiii!I hope your doing great I saw your requests just opened and I was wondering if you would mind doing a poly emt marauders with a reader that’s in hospital and they don’t know until they’re like bringing in someone in or something and their like why didn’t you tell us and she’s like oh cause I didn’t want you to worry.Something like that if not it’s fine have a good day!!!🌊
Thanks for requesting gorgeous! Not super sure if this is accurate since I don’t think paramedics usually spend much time inside the hospital but oh well haha. Hope you have a good day too! <3
cw: hospital/emergency room, mention of broken bone
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 827 words
You’re just on your way out of A&E, feeling sore and shattered and more than a little sorry for yourself, when someone says your name. With an odd mix of relief and trepidation mingling in your chest, you turn. 
Sirius makes it to your first. He takes your face in his hands, eyes scanning it over thoroughly before starting to make their way down your body. “Baby, what’s happened?” 
“Hey,” you say, “what are you doing here?” 
“Um, no.” James gives you a funny-looking smile, amusement tangled up with worry. “It’s fairly normal for us to be here, what are you doing here?” 
“I, um—” 
“Idiots.” Remus bypasses them both, taking your injured hand gently and holding it up where your other boyfriends can see it. “What happened here, lovely?” 
“I broke my finger,” you admit. 
Sirius looks devastated, though with the splint binding your two fingers together you thought it was fairly obvious. “How?” 
“Shut it in my car door.” 
James winces and Remus tsks compassionately, turning your hand so he can see the injured digit from another angle. 
“How long have you been here?” he asks.
You shrug, not quite looking at any of them. “I had to wait a while. A few hours.” 
Remus’ look lets you know your sheepishness isn’t without good reason. “Did you drive yourself like this?” 
You nod meekly. 
“Angel!” James wraps his arms around you, tucking your head underneath his chin, and you go happily. You’ll take his mollycoddling over Remus’ reproachful stare any day. “Why didn’t you call us? I can’t believe you had to sit here all by yourself.” 
“I knew you were busy at work, and I didn’t want to worry you.” Now Sirius is glaring at you, too. You snuggle further into James’ embrace. “It wasn’t so bad.” 
“Did they have to set it?” Sirius asks. 
Your face heats. “Yeah. It was pretty weird-looking when it first happened.” 
James makes a pitiful whining sound. “Poor love.” 
“How long did they tell you it’d take to heal?” Remus’ voice sounds somewhat gentler now. He finally relinquishes your injured hand to Sirius, who starts turning it about and inspecting it in the same manner, like the doctor who splinted it for you might not have done a good enough job. 
“Six to eight weeks,” you say glumly. It already feels annoyingly constraining not being able to bend either of those fingers; you’re not sure how you’re supposed to deal with it for weeks on end. 
The boys exchange a look, and James drops the protective circle of his arms from around you. “I’m going to go find Amelia,” he says, “see if she’s on break.” 
You clutch at his shirt with your good hand. “Don’t leave me,” you whisper. 
Your boyfriend smiles, dropping a kiss on your head. “Sorry, lovie.” 
“I think we ought to feel insulted,” Sirius comments as James walks away. Remus only shrugs. 
He reaches for your face now that it’s not hidden under James’ chin, wiping frownily at something on your cheek. 
“Are you feeling alright now, dove?” he asks, and you veritably liquefy at the tenderness in his voice. 
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You shrug one shoulder lightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but it really wasn’t awful.” 
Sirius gives your wrist an admonishing little squeeze. “You have tear marks on your face,” he contradicts you softly. 
“Oh.” You run a finger under your eyes, feeling your face heat. 
Remus tuts and lets his hand against the side of your neck, thumb stroking at your jaw. “We’re only on shift for another hour,” he tells you. “James is finding our friend Amelia so you can stay in the break room with her until we can come back and get you, okay?” 
You shake your head, and his stare hardens but you say anyway, “I don’t need to be babysat. I can get home on my own.” 
“You shouldn’t be driving after having anesthetic.” 
You narrow your eyes. “Wouldn’t they have told me if that were the case?” 
“We don’t want you driving with a numb hand,” Sirius clarifies. When you turn your attention to him, he gives you a stern look. “You should have called us in the first place. Just let us do what we can for you now, okay?” 
You sigh in resignation just as James comes up behind you again. Seeing as no one has taken over hug duty, he wraps both arms around your waist, setting his chin on your shoulder. 
“Okay,” you tell Sirius. 
“Oh, excellent. All on the same page, are we?” James turns his head to smooch your cheek. “Knew you’d come around, angel. Amelia’s ready for you, so you can hang in the break room until we get back.” 
“Is she going to baby me too?” you joke, letting him steer you towards the hallway. 
“Probably not,” Sirius says, “but don’t you worry, sweetness. We’ll make up for that when we get you home.” 
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moondirti · 14 hours
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Your ghostsoap x preg!reader!!??? I'm in love I need more of this. You have more thoughts for that universe? I just fell in love with your writing.
Let me camp in this corner of your blog, I'm friendly and don't bite (⁠~⁠ ̄⁠³⁠ ̄⁠)⁠~
they're all i've been able to think about all day. of course i have more to say <3 if you're curious, anon is referring to this, which should be read before this part.
tags: DARK FIC. manipulation. vehicle tampering. planned abduction. pregnant fem!reader. established ghostsoap – who are not the fathers but would definitely like to be. mentions of somnophilia
Delusional as they might be, it's hard to justify something as egregious as blunt-force kidnapping. Though it briefly occurs to Simon – to pluck you from the parking lot and drive off the hour after they decide to keep you – the logistics don't iron out. Of chief concern, you're six months pregnant. What they'd typically use for POW's thus become's inconsiderable for you; Johnny's the wiz, but even he knows the effects chloroform can have on a foetus. The alternative isn't any better, either – his partner just balks at the idea of tying you up and throwing you in the trunk. (She'll never git ower it, Si. Dae ye want her tae hate us?)
So, things unfold in a far subtler manner.
They go home that night they first meet you. Can't coordinate without resting on it, they rationalise, without scoping their place to assure it's suitable for their soon-to-be-mother. They tuck away the knives laying on random countertops, air out the quilts gifted to them by Johnny's ma in an attempt to make their room cozier. And when they sleep, they dream of you tucked in between them, knocked out, sex-drunk. Dressed in nothing but a shirt, cunt bared for either of them to toy with throughout the night.
Hours upon hours later, well into noon the next day, Simon wakes to find his boy rutting into his thigh, still somewhat comatose, and sneaks a rough hand into his boxers to tug the tension out of the poor thing. They only get up as the fissures of dusk begin to spread across the sky, loading their car with a toolbox and making the drive back to The Dahlia, staking out in the parking lot as they wait for you to arrive for your shift.
(Johnny had deployed the old charm as you brought out their food in two baggies last night, disguising the trap with a lilting laugh as he audibly wondered why you picked up such a late shift.
You’d only shrugged and said you preferred to work nights.)
Sure enough, you pull up in a beat-up Kia at 2200, fussing with your bag as you stumble to the back entrance of the roadhouse.
"Forgot to lock it." He mutters, following your form until it disappears from view. Johnny only frowns, tightening his fingers over his thumb. A little nervous tick.
"Should we be doin' this?"
"And what is this?" Simon turns to appraise the scotsman, larger hand enveloping his, calloused fingertips smoothing over scarred knuckles. "Y'think they'd be kinder to 'er? The type of scum we know grace this earth? It's a wonder she made i' this far, Johnny."
He isn't convinced.
"Look a' me." Blue eyes widen to meet his, dark as their owner battles intuitions that have always been straighter than the Ghosts'. "Wanna give 'er a good life, yeah?"
"Aye. The best."
"Would she be so convinced?" But he knows the answer. They both saw the way you withdrew after being hit on, losing the effusiveness you initially greeted them with. Avoidant. Classic case of hyper-competency, perhaps the very reason you put up with such shitty circumstances to begin with. A stubborn knot they'll have to undo themselves.
And Johnny likes the challenge.
"Lass's got something tae prove." Moments pass in silence. Then: "Ah’ll get th' wire."
"Atta' boy."
They only enter the establishment an hour before the end of your shift. It’s 0600 and space is sleepy. At a point that had escaped their notice, someone had made the choice to shut the overhead fluorescents, and so all that functions to illuminate the dinette is the pale dawn outside. Johnny finds he prefers it like this, grumbling a tired endorsement, before branching off in search of the bathroom, hand rubbing the sore column of his throat.
The softening mass in his pants jumps once Simon catches sight of you, balancing two trays in one hand as you wipe down the serving hatch. He doesn’t need to say anything. You catch the dark blur of him in the corner of your eye, shuffling into a booth, where he occupies an entire side with the mere spread of his legs.
“Hello again. Just you today?” You’re twirling your pen, cradling your belly, and he notes the perpetual shadow cast under your eyes. Poor pet.
He shakes his head, then cocks it toward the loo. “Think he’ll have a go at the toastie today.”
“Good choice. Hard to fuck up.” You give him a tired smile. “And for you?”
“M’good.”
“You sure? Look like you’ve been on the road again, and-" You pause, the water of your eyes rippling as you appraise his mask. Something seems to click just then, because you nod and tuck your notepad away. “I’ll ask again at the end. Maybe you’ll want something to-go.”
In the end, they do take something to go.
Not as greasy as the toastie Johnny spends the hour tearing into, glossing the pads of his fingers with oil. Nor as sour as the coffee he sipped on last night, burnt and way past freshness, just like you’d warned them about. But a much, much sweeter keepsake. Something that’ll sate them for much longer.
You’ve already clocked out once they leave The Dahlia, faces grim but as innocent as they can possibly muster. Sure enough, you’re out standing by your car, wiping tears with the back of your hand. They’re close enough that they can catch snippets of your conversation on the phone (No, I don’t– and It is old but never–).
They wait until you grow desperate, hiccuping – Don’t have that kind of money. Please – before intervening.
“Hey. What’s the matter, hen?” Johnny approaches first, concern no faux thing, smoothing a hand down your arm. What Simon said earlier comes back around (Wanna give 'er a good life?) and his chest tightens at the sheer despair he sees etched across your face. You shouldn’t be this stressed about anything this far along, should have someone taking care of you.
He, they, can be that for you. Could give you everything you ask for and more.
“M-my car. I-I don’t– I don’t know what’s wr-wrong with it, and–”
“Shhh, issalright. Not starting, eh?”
“No. And I have to- to get home before… before–”
Simon steps in, crowding you against the side of your car. You don’t have it in you to look for the red flags; the glances they throw one another, the subtle crinkle in the masked one’s eyes as he smiles. No, you don’t– can’t consider it dangerous. Not when these two wonderfully kind men, who tipped you 100% of their bill both times they came in, are one of your only means of getting help.
“Where do you live? We’ll drive ya if it’s on our way.” A lie. They’ll drive you regardless, and you won’t be taken home.
“Oh- no. That’s okay, really. I’ll just a-ask my boss if I can get a sub on my pay, and–”
Johnny smooths a finger across your cheek.
“Nonsense, hen. It’ll be a skoosh.”
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too-deviant · 2 days
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jackie and wilson.
previous | next masterlist
pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader
summary: you haven't been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile
word count: 5.3k
content: fluffff, loser!reader, happy!luke if you squint and a sprinkle of loser!luke, brief mentions of suicide but nothing heavy, we finally find out which state reader is from
notes: this is so cute i love them.
PART III — she’s gonna save me, call me ‘baby’, run her hands through my hair
Wading through a misty green lake with Luke Castellan was not on your camp bucket list — something you’d produced with a young girl called Silena who you’d met in the arts and crafts cabin — but alas, here you were; knee deep in pond water and ankle deep in whatever sludge lived at the bottom, hands searching blindly along the floor while you tried your best to keep your chin dry. 
You probably wouldn’t have been there if you were any good at Volleyball — which really doesn’t make much sense with the given context. 
Okay, here’s what happened. It was Saturday at camp halfblood — and while you had been there for a solid three days now, you were yet to experience the joy of the weekends. Not that you knew they were any different, not until Travis Stoll approached you after breakfast. 
“Heyyyy, uh...newbie.” He chuckled, sidling up beside you while you were occupied with deciding whether your camp shirt was better tucked into your shorts or left hanging over them. 
You turned to the boy with an amused smile, reminding him of your name. He snapped his fingers at you, “I knew that. I did. I just prefer newbie.”
“What’s up, Travis?”
He dropped his finger guns, rocking back and forth on his feet and looking at you sheepishly, “Well, me and a few friends were gonna chuck a ball around on the beach and we need an extra player to make it even. Now that Luke’s not an option.” 
He muttered that last bit low and under his breath, not in hopes that you wouldn’t hear but in hopes that Luke wouldn’t — there was no telling how far he was from you at any given moment, but he wasn’t going to tell you that, so he just put on his charming Stoll Smile and said, “So, wanna join us?” 
You didn’t have anything to do that day, and since you’d assumed you were in for another long eight hours of finding out what you were good at and failing, a friendly game of ball (which you were safe to assume was volley, per what Luke told you yesterday) seemed like a great idea. 
Only it wasn’t — friendly, that is. You wandered over to the net set up on the beach with Travis at your side and a taller girl with curly blonde hair narrowed her eyes at you in suspicion, “How good are you at this?” 
“Uh —“ You shrugged, shaking your head slightly, “I’ve never played. We don’t have many beaches where I’m from.” 
“You don’t need a beach to play volleyball, newbie.” Connor Stoll appeared out of nowhere, grinning at you, “But it’s easy to pick up. You can be on our team.”
Their team consisted of Connor, Chris, Poppy from the Demeter cabin, Evie and Evan (twins from the Ares cabin) and now, yourself. Apparently it was a lost cause whenever the Stolls were on the same team, so Travis was on the other side of the net with the blonde girl from earlier — who’s name you’d learnt was Sabine, and who’s godly parent was Nike, which did not decrease your nerves even a little bit. 
“It’s pretty simple once you get the hang of it.” Evie explained to you once she noticed your unsure eyes. “Just don’t hit the ball twice in a row, Sab’s a stickler for that rule.” 
“Other than that, we’re pretty lax.” Her brother tagged on, smirking at you, “This isn’t the Olympics.” 
“Tell her that.” You side eyed the blonde on the other side of the net, who was cracking her knuckles and discussing strategy with Travis and Brynn, an Athena kid with a bright blue buzzcut. 
The twins let out identical chuckles, sharing a look before patting your shoulders, “You’ll be fine.” 
You didn’t have time to quip that the pair of them talking at the same time was a little foreboding before the game was on, and a volleyball was heading straight for you. 
To be fair to you, you lasted longer than expected. Maybe it was your battle instincts kicking in, but you hadn’t missed the ball once — sure, your defence lacked any real strategy and was more you hitting the ball in whatever direction and hoping for the best, but it was working, so why complain? You wouldn’t qualify for varsity, but at least you were one upping a Stoll brother — the same couldn’t be said for most campers, you knew that much. 
You actually thought you were getting pretty good, too. Your team was up by a few points (no thanks to you, all thanks to Evan. Seriously, he was like six foot four) and Sabine was getting angry. Every now and then she’d turn and scowl at Rhea, one of her teammates, and the girl would just shrug in response before returning to her position. But then, just when you started to get confident with it, Travis got you. 
Hard, too. You were paying close attention to your feet, making sure you didn’t trip over any sand when you had to move, and unfortunately didn’t notice the ball coming at you until it clipped you in the face. You went down onto your ass, both hands flying to your nose and groaning when you felt a warm trickle of blood slide through your fingers and down your hands. 
“Holy shit, newbie.” Travis sped over, dropping to his knees next to his brother and hovering over you, “I am so sorry, are you okay?” 
Your speech was muffled and nasally when you replied with a swift, “No, asshole!”
“Shit.” He muttered, looking between Connor and Evie, “Uh, I can take you to the infirmary if you want —“
“I’ll take her.” Evan interrupted. He was crouched somewhere behind you, looking at your teammates over the top of your head. You felt his hands flatten on your back as he pushed you up to stand, the rest of the group joining him and wincing when some blood dripped onto the sand. 
“It’s okay, you don’t have to —“ You held out a hand in his direction now that you could see him, only to press it firmly back against your face when your nose simply started to gush once the pressure had been removed. 
“Yes,” He nodded, “I do. Let’s go.” 
You let him lead you, sending an apologetic look to the remaining teens on the sand — you were pretty sure it looked nothing like an apology since your hands were covering half of your face and there was blood seeping through your fingers, but it was the effort that counted. 
You didn’t receive as many looks as you thought you would’ve on the walk to the infirmary, although you assumed demigods had gotten worse injuries than a nosebleed before, so it wasn’t exactly odd. When you got there, you stopped on the porch and tried to speak to Evan as best you could without letting any more blood spill. 
“You can — you can go.” You said through your hands, “I got it from here.”
He looked a little unsure, but you nodded firmly and he turned back the way he came. It was pretty embarrassing, walking into the infirmary with a bloody nose on your third day at camp, but the Apollo kid who took care of you said it was only a matter of time before you shed first blood, and that you’d better thank the gods it was a volleyball and not a hellhound that did the damage. 
They stopped the bleeding with some sort of special gauze and told you to be a little more careful before sending you on your way — which was when you found Luke. 
You didn’t even see him at first, more focused on folding the gauze you’d been given into a perfect square while you stepped off the wooden porch. But then a voice muttered your name in slight shock and confusion, and you looked up to meet those baby brown eyes you couldn’t help but love. 
You grinned, “JoJo.”
Luke shook his head, “What were you doing in the infirmary?” His eyes tracked all over you, assessing for any visible injuries. When he found none, he turned his questioning gaze back to your face. 
You sucked in some air through your teeth, embarrassed, “I, uh, got hit in the face with a volleyball. Turns out, I’m awful at it.” You let out a weak chuckle, and Luke rolled his eyes in amusement. 
“Of course. I thought baseball was your thing?” 
“It is.” You nodded, “But there’s nobody out here to play with, so…” Then an idea sprung, and your face lit up so visibly that Luke took a tentative step back, “Hey, why don’t you come watch? We’re playing on the beach.”
“Oh.” The boy paused, eyes sliding to the beach and back to you, “I don’t think so…I, uh, tend to spend my weekends alone.”
“You spend your everything alone.” You pointed out with a raised pair of brows. He pursed his lips. You sighed, “Come on. You don’t have to play.”
He looked as if he was thinking about it, and your hopes were raised a little. You liked Luke, you wanted to know him better and one day consider him a friend rather than a guy you harassed every day. But you were very aware of his aversion for all things social — the comment Travis made about Luke not playing with them anymore saddened you, and it pained you to imagine Luke all alone while his brothers and friends still had fun around him. But then his face dropped, and so did yours, Luke shaking his head no. 
“I just…” He shrugged, “I don’t really…”
“It’s okay.” You interrupted before he could spout out his excuse. He didn’t need one. “We can do something else.”
“Oh, I —“ Another shake of the head, “You go back to them, don’t let me ruin it.”
“You aren’t ruining anything.” You said plainly, and you thought that those four words hit Luke a lot harder than expected, because he had this pensive look on his face that didn’t fade until you spoke again, “Listen, I know baseball isn’t exactly a camp sport, but I’ve got a ball. This place has gotta have bats — I mean, if it’s got swords, it’s got bats, right? So we grab them, we go off somewhere and take turns batting. I need to stay in practice anyway, if I’m gonna make varsity.”
You sent him your shiniest smile paired with some doughy eyes, and after squinting at you for a solid ten seconds, Luke agreed to your idea with a hesitant nod. You weren’t exactly expecting him to jump up and down in joy, so you took the liberty of doing that before asking him, very enthusiastically (because if you stayed positive, maybe it would rub off on him), to go look for a bat while you grabbed your ball. 
Chris caught you exiting the Hermes cabin while he was filling up his water bottle using the outdoor tap not far from the porch, asking you what you were doing with a baseball. You explained that volleyball was definitely not your thing and ignored his chuckle of agreement in favour of informing him that you would be teaching Luke how to become the next Babe Ruth. He raised a brow. 
“Really?”
“Uh, yeah.” You replied, a little put off by his reaction. “Is that a problem?” 
“No, no.” He backtracked quickly, hands raised and water sloshing around his bottle as the movement, “I just…I dunno. Luke’s been a little off recently. If I were you, I wouldn’t meddle in it.”
“Meddle?” You asked, shaking your head, “In what?”
“In his…” He puffed out his cheeks, trying to find the words, “His funk.” He shook his head then, eyes glossing over as he thought about it, “He failed his quest, he’s a little butthurt, but…he’ll get over it. Y’know?”
You didn’t know. 
“I just don’t think he needs babysitting.” He firmed, looking confident in his wording now that he’d found it, “He’s just gonna talk your ear off about how much he hates his life until you’re borderline suicidal. I wouldn’t bother, personally. He's a big boy, he can get over it.”
You rolled your lips over each other, staring blankly at Chris as he sent you a polite smile and walked back to the beach. Slowly, your eyes narrowed, and your brows pulled together. But you didn't say anything, you just turned around yourself and walked to where you’d asked Luke to meet you. 
He was tossing the bat between his hands when you got there, dropping it in his left when he spotted you and nodding, “Alright, where are we doing this?”
You stopped, snapped out of a stupor you didn’t even realise you were in and blinking at him. For the first time since you’d met, it seemed that he was more focused and lively than you were. It irked him a little bit, and he frowned, “Sunny?” 
“Sorry.” You responded immediately, shaking your head to rid yourself of your spiralling thoughts, “I just…uh, let’s go somewhere clear. We don’t wanna hit anyone with the ball.” 
Luke led you to a clearing in the woods, explaining that the wood nymphs would be able to help you if the ball got lost in the foliage, so there was no need to hold back the arm you’d been bragging about for the entire walk. You just smirked, raised the bat level, and nodded at him to serve. 
Yes, you were a thousand percent better at baseball than you were at volleyball. You knew that, of course, but it was nice to be reassured. Luke wasn’t half bad either, but you were also a really good runner, so you kept having to remind him that an average level fielder wouldn’t have a chance against his bats — you just so happened to be way above average. 
Plus the wood nymphs were very helpful — apparently they didn’t get to watch many demigod activities other than capture the flag so it was refreshing for them to see you two play, and to actually be able to help. 
All in all, you were having a great time. Which of course meant that you were long overdue for something going wrong. Of course. 
“I can’t find it.”
“What?” You asked breathlessly, staring at the tree nymph who shrugged at you plainly. 
“It rolled into a pond, I think.” He sniffed indignantly, “And I am not climbing into a pond.”
“Oh, and you expect us to?” 
And that, kids, is how you ended up knee deep in pond water and ankle deep in something else — with Luke Castellan right by your side. 
“This is so gross.” You whispered, grimacing as your hands ran over the murky bottom. You couldn’t see anything but your own reflection when you looked in, so you were replying on touch alone to help find your ball. “I can’t believe this. My lucky ball and it falls into a pond! Not so lucky anymore, huh? Yeah, lucky my ass.”
“Hey, Sunny?” A slosh of water rippled over you and you had to straighten up to avoid the tiny waves splashing in your face. They only increased at your movements, but you were too busy glaring at Luke to notice. He pressed his mouth together, holding in a chuckle, “You’re not being very sunny right now.” 
You huffed, flinging your arms out at your sides and wincing when you splashed water on yourself by doing so, “I —“ A huff, “I don’t feel very sunny, Castellan. I am wading in sludge.” 
He actually had the audacity to let a tiny grin slip through, “Wow, the last name? You’re acting like me right now. It’s weird.”
“I can’t believe this.” You repeated, narrowing your eyes at the boy, “I’ve been trying to cheer you up since the day I met you and when you finally do, it’s because you’re relishing in my pain? Fuck you.”
As if he was trying to piss you off, Luke laughed. He actually laughed, exactly like he had yesterday and if you weren’t so annoyed you’d be smiling at him for it. But you were annoyed, so all you did in response was send a wave of pond water at him and drench his front. 
He stopped laughing. You started laughing. 
“Okay, is that how you wanna play this?” He asked, stepping closer, “Is it?” 
You grinned, stepping back. The water moved when you did, and the paired struggle of your’s and Luke’s legs under the water just increased the waves that oscillated around your knees. It slid up to your thighs and threatened to wet the denim of your shorts, but you were too busy prying your foot out of whatever the hell lived at the bottom of the pond so you could escape Luke’s wrath. 
You shook your head, “You don’t wanna do this.”
He nodded mockingly, “I think I do.”
Then it was on. He lunged for you, and you dived to the left in a swift attempt to get around him. Water was splashing everywhere at this point but neither of you cared — especially when Luke’s hands were mere inches from your arms, waiting for your ankle to snag on some algae and pull you back so he could push you over. You were smarter than that though, so you did a swift one-eighty, dragging your hands under the water with you as you did — the wave that accumulated from the momentum doused Luke from head to toe, his curls sticking to his forehead. He wiped them away and blew hard from his mouth before forming a weak glare in your direction.   
Your jaw trembled as you held in what you knew would be some serious chortles — but it was silent. The only noise apparent was the settling of the waves now that you had both stopped moving and Luke’s heavy breathing in front of you. He shook his head, stepping forward slowly, and you braced yourself for what was about to come. 
“Hey!” 
You paused. You shared a look with Luke before looking confusedly at the form that had appeared suddenly between the two of you. It was a girl by the looks of it, only she was made entirely of the water the two of you were standing in. She glared between the pair of you, hands on her hips. 
“I don’t appreciate all this splashing.” You felt suddenly like you were being berated by a school teacher for talking too loud during class, “Are you trying to drain my pond? Are you?”
“N—No.” You responded, shaking your head, “We were just looking for — ”
The water nymph held up your ball with a stern expression, “This? Yeah, it looked like you were.” 
Her sarcasm was not lost on you, and you tried your best not to meet Luke’s eyes, knowing they would fail you the second you did. Instead you looked at the nymph before you and took the ball from her outstretched hand, “Thank you. And, um, sorry…about the splashing.”
She folded her arms, lifting her head and straightening her shoulders, “That’s okay. Now get out.”
You were both quick to exit the water, although not too quick that you made anymore of it splash onto the rocks. Once you were out, the nymph nodded in satisfaction and melted back into the pond, and you and Luke were finally able to breathe. Then, you both burst into laughter. 
“Oh my gods.” You huffed, shaking your head and looking down at yourself, “Did we just get into trouble?” 
“With a water nymph?” He finished, shrugging off his wet shirt and wringing it out, “Yeah. How embarrassing.”
Your mouth was suddenly very dry. You knew Luke was strong — he had to be to fight a dragon and come back alive. To be known as the Best Swordsman in Camp. To be trusted by so many campers despite his newfound, distanced demeanour. But damn. 
You blew out a long puff of air, hoping your reddened cheeks could be excused as some light sunburn. You weren’t as soaked as he was, but you still wafted your damp shirt from your body in hopes that it would dry — and also to give yourself something to do that wasn’t ogling at Luke’s lean figure. 
He spread his shirt out on a rock, ensuring the sun was hitting it right before lowering himself to the ground on the dry grass a few feet away. He leant back on his hands, face to the sky, and revelled in the warmth. You stayed standing, fiddling with the button on your shorts, staring at him. At the scar on his face, at the rest of them along his chest. 
He cracked one eye open, glancing at you, “What?”
“I, uh.” You licked your lips, “Nothing. Nothing.” You muttered, taking a seat beside him and crossing your legs. Your gaze stuck firmly to your lap and you waited for his to return to the sky. It didn’t. 
“You can ask me.” He said then, shrugging. 
“What happened on your quest?” You let slip, and when he stayed silent for a second too long, you realised that maybe that wasn't the question he was giving you permission to ask. “I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business, it’s nobody’s really. But Chris told me before that you’re in a funk and that seemed like a gross understatement but then again I’ve known you for, what, three days? He’s known you for years, so surely he’s right. But you just seem like it’s more than a funk, and I don’t know what to believe because I don’t know what happened but I also don’t want to ask because it’s none of my business and it’s also very clearly a sore subject because of what happened with Dean. Not that I think you’re gonna fly off the handle or anything, but it’s definitely a touchy subject and I can’t just go demanding all the details just because I wanna be your friend and— ”
A hand over your mouth stopped you from continuing what Luke was sure to be a very long tangent. He looked at you, half in shock, half in amusement, and huffed out a laugh, “Sunny, you need to calm down.”
You couldn’t respond, but you did nod. He removed his hand slowly and you swallowed your embarrassment. Luke sat up fully, straightening his back and clearing his throat, “Uh, okay. Have you heard of that Hercules story? With the golden apples?” 
You nodded, afraid to speak in case you went off on a rant again. He nodded with you, “Yeah, well, my father sent me on that. The exact same quest…except I failed.”
That explained the scar, and the dragon story he’d mentioned very briefly yesterday. He started to go into a little more detail about his quest — and suddenly you were overcome with this…angry sort of sadness. 
Hermes sent Luke on a quest that had already been done. After hearing Clarisse yap your ear off about Kleos, you understood why he’d been a little bummed. Honestly, if it were you, you wouldn’t have even gone. What’s the point in doing a quest that’s already been done? But you didn’t say that to Luke, who seemed a little deep into his story. You just simmered in your irritation while he continued to explain his battle with Ladon, and his ultimate failure. 
“I refused to leave the infirmary for a week.” He chuckled, but it was a little sad. “I mean, I’m supposed to be a leader here, and I fail my first quest? Some demigod I turned out to be.” 
Without even thinking, you shook your head, “You didn’t fail.” Luke looked at you, confused, “You battled a dragon with a hundred heads and lived. That doesn’t sound like failure to me.”
“But I didn’t get the apples.” He explained. “I disappointed my father.”
“Your father…” You said slowly, unsure of how your next words would land, “Who I’m going to assume had never spoken to you until the day he gave you your quest?” Luke nodded after a brief pause and you took that as permission to continue, “So who cares if he’s disappointed? He clearly doesn’t care if you’re mauled by a dragon.” 
“Exactly.” Luke replied, brows pulled together in the way they had been when you’d first met. Angry, irritated. Disappointed. “Everyone keeps telling me to get over it. That demigods have failed quests before and it just means I need to try harder next time but…why should there be a next time? Really, if you sit and think about it for a second, why are we even here? To train, so we don’t die whenever monsters come and attack us? And who’s fault is that? Maybe if our parents were good people, there wouldn’t be any monsters trying to murder their kids. If they cared, even a little bit, they’d do more than just claim us and leave us to die!” 
He scoffed, looking in the direction where you knew the rest of the campers resided — playing games, building weapons, dedicating every waking hour to becoming the best of the best. And for what? For glory? For a pat on the back from a parent who can’t even be bothered to raise them? 
“They don’t get it.” He said then, turning back to you, “They think this is all okay. They’re too invested to realise that they’re just being used. They’re so focused on getting a shred of recognition from the gods that they don’t understand that it’s never gonna come.”
“So…” You finally spoke, your first words in a minute, “What do we do?”
Luke shrugged then, “I don’t know yet.” 
It was silent for a long time after that. Luke stayed staring at the floor and you led back to stare at the sky. He was right, wasn’t he? Sure, you’d only been in this for a little while, but you weren’t stupid. You knew the gods didn’t care — you’d figured out that much when you got to camp. A dumping ground for demigods. Demigod daycare, except mommy isn’t coming to pick you up at three o’clock. Luke deserved to be angry, he deserved to mope — they all did. 
But they wouldn’t. You could sit there and curse the gods for hours on end, but that was still half of you. And that, you thought, was probably the worst part of it all.  
You were so caught up in your feelings that when the tree that had been shading you phased into a nymph and walked away, you jumped halfway out of your skin, “Jeezum crow.”
You looked at Luke, expecting him to either share the same dumbfounded look on his face or be laughing at you — something he seemed to be doing a lot of today — but instead he was staring at you, slack-jawed and wide eyed. You blinked, “What?”
“You’re from Vermont.” 
Your mouth snapped shut, and his expanded into the grin you’d been hassling him for since you’d set your sights on him. You sighed, “Fuck.” 
He let out a disbelieving laugh, “You’re from Vermont! Holy shit. I should’ve known it when you called me a flatlander.” He threw his head back, and you shook yours at his dramatics. But he didn’t care, he just pointed at you, “You’re a fuckin’ woodchuck!” 
“Oh my gods.” You groaned into your hands, pulling yourself to your feet in hopes of escaping his sudden glee. “Is that so bad?” 
“No.” He laughed, following you, “I’m just amazed that I figured it out. I’m a genius!”
“Okay.” You sent him a blank look, but it only lasted a few seconds before your tiny smile was fighting through, “It’s not like you’ve discovered the meaning of life. Calm down.” 
“Never.” He shook his head, “This is my greatest achievement.”
“You fought a dragon.” 
“Screw the dragon!” He gripped your biceps, grinning at you, “You’re from Vermont!”
“You’re not funny.”
“And yet you’re laughing.”
“I am not.”
“You are.” 
“I’m not!” 
____________
“What’d you do to him?” 
You threw a piece of salmon into the fire, glancing at Chris, “I’m getting deja vu. Haven’t you asked me this already?” 
“Yeah, but…” The boy looked behind him, back at the Hermes table, where Luke was perched on the end and waiting patiently for you to come back from the hearth before digging into his food, “This time I mean it. I mean, he still isn’t talking to us, but he’s sitting on our side of the table again. You can be honest with me…” He sent you a grave look, “Did you give him a BJ?” 
“What? No!” You threw a pea at him. “I just listened to him.” You tried to be a little serious, but clearly Chris wasn’t getting the hint, so you relented, “And doused him in pond water.”
He laughed at that, nodding proudly. You turned back to the fire, asking Aphrodite to get rid of your split ends. You’d given up on praying to your father, deciding to go through every Olympian until one of them answered. So far, only Hera had responded — you assumed so, anyway, when a cuckoo woke you up from your afternoon nap. That wasn’t very helpful, but at least it was an answer. You didn’t suspect campers prayed to her often, so she probably appreciated the sentiment. 
“So…” Travis smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you once you sat down. He sent this look around the group, but even Connor gave him a weirded out look in response. He huffed, “It’s team day tomorrow.”
A collective ohhh seemed to hum around the group, but you were still confused. You sent a questioning look to Luke who said, “For Capture the Flag. Tomorrow is when all the cabin counsellors gang up and decide on the two teams.”
“Then we have five days to strategise.” Travis continued on very dramatically, hands splayed on the table, “And on Friday…we battle.”
That seemed to lift the energy up a bit, the people around you sharing mischievous looks. They started to discuss amongst them who would be the best cabin to ally with, Lana turning to Chris, “Who are you gonna pick?” 
Chris went to speak, but paused. He seemed to think about something, looking slightly scared but still turning to the boy across from him anyway, “I thought maybe…Luke would like to reinstate himself as team captain this month.”
Right, you’d completely forgotten. During your spear lessons with Clarisse, you’d asked her why it was so important that you be amazing at fighting quickly if monsters couldn’t get into camp. She’d then explained the whole situation that was Capture the Flag — how it was a bigger deal than the super bowl around here — before briefly mentioning that Luke had always been Hermes team captain, but stepped down for the last game because his scar was still healing from his quest. Chris had taken over for him, and based off of the looks the people around you were sporting, you assumed they weren’t expecting him to give up his title so quickly. 
You couldn’t blame them. Luke hadn’t exactly expressed much desire to captain this time — he hasn’t expressed much desire for anything these days apparently. You were all waiting for him to let Chris down easy, but instead he looked up from his plate with an indifferent nod and said, “Yeah, sure.” 
Nobody said anything. Except Chris who, when Luke stood to rack up his empty plate, looked at you gravely and asked, “Was it a handjob?”
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thoseboysinblue · 2 days
Text
What Nobody Sees
Part 3
Tumblr media
Christian Pulisic x reader
You have unexpectedly found yourself tangled up in a long-term situationship with Christian.
Word count: 7700+
Warnings: Swearing, smut (under 18 DNI)
Song Inspo: Sin So Sweet by Warren Zeiders
Requested: No
Author's note: The original concept for this is based on a dream I had. Once I heard the song, I knew it was an immediate fit. This will be a multi-part series. Thank you, as always to @neverinadream for helping me to flesh this out. Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!
Also, I know it has taken a while for me to update, thank you for your patience and I hope it is worth the wait.
You wake in the early hours of the morning, darkness enveloping you as you remember where you are. Christian's scent surrounds you, his arm is thrown delicately over your waist, your legs are tangled with his, and the sound of his slow and steady breathing fills the space.
You shift slightly and his arm tightens around you pulling you closer to him.
"You ok," he whispers as he nuzzles into you, lightly kissing your shoulder.
"Mmm" you hum, as you twirl your hair into a bun and tuck the loose end under your head so that it won't be in his face.
He takes advantage of your exposed neck, trailing a row of soft kisses along the side before giving in to his stronger desires and licking a stripe back to your earlobe and softly nipping it with his teeth.
A quiet groan escapes his lips when you involuntarily grind your ass against his semi-hardened cock. He slides his hand under your shirt brushing his thumb over your nipple as he cups your breast in his hand, enjoying the soft moan that he pulls from you.
I love the way she reacts so easily, he thinks to himself as he feels the goosebumps erupt on your skin. He raises your shirt over your head tossing it to the floor along with his own as his hands hungrily roam your body.
He continues trailing kisses along your neck and shoulders as he dips his hand between your legs and brushes his fingers over your clit earning another soft moan as you once again grind your hips against him.
"Stay on your side," he whispers. He slides your shorts and underwear down your legs before removing his own and nudging your knee a little higher to give him more access to you.
He presses his tip against your entrance feeling how wet you already are for him. He drops to one elbow, his face and body hovering slightly over yours as he pushes into you fully.
You both sigh as he stretches you out and begins rocking in and out of you slowly. You intertwine your fingers with his hand he's using to prop himself up as he brings his other hand up to roll your nipple between his forefinger and thumb.
You've never felt so completely comfortable with someone in bed as you do with him. Even though you both often praise one another or mutter filthy things back and forth, you know it's not necessary right now; you both know what the other needs without saying a word.
The two of you have learned that you can trust each other to be met with no judgement when trying something new is mentioned. Sometimes those experiments have worked out great, sometimes you were both left in a heap of laughter on the bed.
The room is filled with quiet moans and heavy breathing as Christian picks up the pace ever so slightly. His cock dragging perfectly against your walls and brushing over your sweet spot with every thrust.
You press two fingers to his lips, feeling him smirk before drawing them into his mouth to coat them in his saliva.
You slide your hand down your body and when your fingers brush over your clit you clench around him as he whimpers against the side of your face.
He continues rolling one nipple between his fingers before dipping his head to pull the other between his lips feeling you clench even harder around him at the sensation.
He pulls off of you with a pop, "baby, you close? I can't hold it much longer," he groans.
You nod as you grind your hips against him and he thrusts deeper into you.
"So close, Chris," you whisper as you feel his hips start to falter.
"Cum for me, my pretty girl," he whispers against your jaw and that's all it takes to topple you over the edge, Christian following quickly behind you as he stills himself deep inside of you.
Warmth spreads in your chest at him calling you his "pretty girl." It's by far the sweetest thing he's called you. You're used to him calling you his little slut or his dirty girl, but his pretty girl, that's new.
He leans down and presses a barely there kiss to your lips, silently celebrating that you didn't turn away from him before pulling out of you and laying back down beside you.
He pulls you flush against him, your back pressed against his chest as his arm wraps around your waist. He places a few delicate kisses along your shoulder as you trail your fingertips along his arm.
You lay in silence for a few minutes, cloaked in the darkness of the room, while your mind races. This feels like more than just sex now, you think to yourself as Christian's thumb traces circles over your ribs.
"I love," he breaks the silence and pauses when your breath hitches in your throat. He takes a breath in before starting again, "I love that I know what it's like to make you cum in the middle of the night." He smiles against your shoulder as you nod.
"You're a fucking dream," he whispers as he runs his nose along your neck.
"Maybe a wet dream," you giggle as he kisses the sweet spot just below your ear.
"Still a dream," he laughs lowly.
He whines as you shuffle away from him slightly.
"I'll be right back," you giggle and kiss him on the underside of his jaw and slide out of the bed. You grab a shirt from the floor and make your way to the bathroom to clean up a bit. When you pull the shirt you grabbed over your head, you realize it's his. You shrug and admire yourself for a moment in the mirror, your eyes floating along where his shirt hits you mid-thigh.
What am I doing? You think to yourself as you realize the already blurred lines surrounding you and Christian becoming more and more blurred every day.
It's just a fling. You tell yourself even though you know it doesn't feel that way anymore, maybe if you keep reminding yourself it will help to soften the blow to your heart when this inevitably ends.
He catches a glimpse of you in the mirror at the end of the bed before you turn off the bathroom light as you rejoin him. Butterflies swarm in his belly when he notices you're in his shirt. You've stayed with him a few of times before, twice during the World Cup, and once after winning the Concacaf back in June; but you've never worn his clothes before on those occasions, and he can't deny that it short circuits his brain a little.
He scoots towards the center of the bed, holding his arm out to invite you to snuggle into his side. You join him and lay your head on his chest, softly dragging your fingers over the smattering of chest hair he hasn't shaved.
"Everything ok?" he asks quietly, kissing the top of your head.
"Yeah," you sigh, "funny how I thought this was going to be a one time thing," a quiet laugh escapes your lips.
"That was never going to happen," he chuckles, "I was addicted from that first time."
"We should go back to sleep," you whisper hearing him yawn in agreement, "we have a long day tomorrow, and you don't need to be tired."
"You're worth being tired for," he whispers as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you gently.
*****************************
Flashback to May/June 2022
"Hey you," you chuckle as Christian pulls you into a side hug, "long time no see," you grin at him as you sit down at the table across that's serving as your makeshift desk while he sits across from you.
"It's good to be back," he gives you a slight smile as he leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out under the table.
"How was Florida?" you make small talk while you shuffle though a few papers.
"It's always nice to be home," he shrugs, "glad I get to go back for a couple of weeks after camp before preseason starts back up."
"Yeah, I know you're ready for some downtime," you say absentmindedly as you finally find what you're looking for.
"How are things in London?" you glance up to him, catching his eyes before he looks down at his hands that are resting on the table.
"Fine, good" he huffs before looking back up at you forcing a smile.
You reach across the table and place your hand over his, giving him a reassuring squeeze which causes him to sigh.
"How long have we known each other, Christian?" you ask him quietly.
"Three or four years?" he looks at you puzzled.
"Have you forgotten that we've been friends long enough that I can tell when you're just giving a diplomatic answer," you narrow your eyes at him.
"You don't have to tell me, and I won't push you to talk about it, but know that if you want to talk, I'll listen, ok?" you offer him a slight smile, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.
"Thank you," he sighs before offering you a sincere smile.
"I've looked back through all the data I've been collecting since I started working with the team in January, including what's been sent to me from Chelsea, and everything looks good fitness wise," you say as you glance back through your notes.
"So, let's get you some minutes in, get these matches out of the way, and get you to your downtime with your family, ok?" you nod at him.
"Yeah sounds good," he says as he looks at you but seems a bit distracted.
"Alright, go get me that trouble maker friend of yours," you chuckle letting him know you're done with your brief but required meeting.
He chuckles as he stands, "I'll let him know."
He starts to leave but turns back to you, "hey, y/n?"
"Yeah?" you look up at him.
"It's good to see you," he smiles at you, a genuine smile that reaches his eyes.
"Good to see you too, Chris." you grin back at him.
The training sessions leading up to the four scheduled June fixtures go relatively smoothly, everyone falling into the normal camp routines. You chuckle to yourself when several of the guys decide to go for mullets asking them if they'd lost some kind of bet.
When you first started working with the team, you steered pretty clear of hanging out with them outside of training and film sessions, but during the March camp, you started hanging out with them a little more and more. You'd begun joining in on their gaming nights, quickly usurping Princess Peach in MarioKart and shocking all of them with your competitive side. You had even started playing "drinking games" with them, encouraging them to bring their favorite hydration drinks to your room or wherever you were meeting up in order to make sure they were staying on top of their health.
When Christian showed up for training one morning with blonde highlights you couldn't deny that it surprised you and made you painfully aware of how good it looked on him.
"Y/n," Weston grins as he pushes through the door to your room with Christian following behind him, "what do you think of CP's new hair?"
"It's not bad," you grin back at him, "very Florida fuckboy," you chuckle as you ruffle your fingers through Christian's hair.
Christian locks eyes with you, arching an eyebrow at you, but you don't miss the sharp intake of breath he takes when you scratch your fingers against his scalp.
He can't deny that hearing you call him a fuckboy sent a flicker of heat down his spine, your words in combination with your fingers in his hair causing his dick to twitch.
"Had a lot of experience with fuckboys, y/n?" Wes chuckles.
"More than I'd like to admit," you roll your eyes before throwing Christian a wink.
"Do we need to stage an intervention for you?" you grin at Christian as you prop your door open waiting for the others to join you. "Deleting social media posts, new hair, it's like your going through a bad breakup" you giggle.
"Nah, I think I'm alright," he grins back, "just getting some hate on those posts so got rid of them, and just trying something new for the summer," he winks at you.
Once everyone has joined you, you are all sitting around in your room, playing never have I ever. The guys sipping on waters and electrolyte replacement drinks while you do the same.
Things stay fairly innocent at first, but naturally take a turn as they usually do.
"Never have I ever given a lap dance," Tyler chuckles when several of the guys and you drink.
You notice Christian keeps glancing towards you with each confession, and you can't help but glance back at him to gauge his reaction each time.
"Never have I ever been skinny dipping," Christian shrugs before taking a sip of his drink.
"Never have I ever gotten myself off in front of someone else," Wes notices that you take a sip of your drink and widens his eyes at you.
But you've noticed that Christian has also been sneaking in drinks as well to nearly everything mentioned.
"Alright," Jedi wiggles his eyebrows, "never have I ever tied someone up or been tied up."
You take a bite your lip to keep from smiling before taking a long drink of your drink.
"Y/N" Wes acts shocked, "here I thought you were all innocent, but I don't think we've found anything you haven't done yet," he eyes you up. "It's always the quiet ones that surprise you," he chuckles.
You watch as Christian makes eye contact with you before taking a drink of his drink without anyone else noticing.
"It is always the quiet ones" you grin, never taking your eyes off of Christian.
As everyone finishes up the game and starts to head back to their own rooms Christian lingers for a few minutes, "thank you," he smiles at you and you look at him puzzled. "For making things more fun, I'm glad you're here."
"Oh, well it's nothing really, but I like hanging out with you guys so I'm glad you're enjoying it," you smile back at him.
"We still on for tomorrow night?" he tilts his head to the side just slightly.
"Yep, you, me, and Wes have a date with some film," you nod at him.
"Good" he whispers as he leans down and barely grazes a kiss to your cheek, his hand giving your hip the slightest squeeze. His actions causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin.
The next evening you show up at Christian's room, a few minutes late having gotten caught up in a conversation with some of the other staff members during dinner.
"Hey, sorry I'm late," you shake your head as Christian lets you in his room. "Where's Wes?" you ask as you drop your laptop on his bed and kick your shoes off.
"He got pulled into a press conference and then he said he has some other things he's got to handle tonight," he shrugs at you, "so afraid you're stuck with just me."
"Whatever will I do?" you chuckle at him, but the thought of being alone with him makes you dizzy.
"We'll probably get more done without him," he grins at you as you nod in agreement.
"Damn it, I forgot the connector for the TV, I can run up to my room and get it," you trail off.
"Nah, we can just watch on your laptop," he settles onto the bed as you do the same.
You're both sitting with your backs against the headboard, your laptop sitting in the open space between you. You point out a few things about the team they will be playing against in a couple of days from some highlights you'd spliced together, showing him some vulnerabilities you noticed from both their offensive set pieces and the way they defend set pieces.
When you pick your laptop up to switch to a different video, he shuffles closer to you and takes the computer and balances it on one of each of your legs. His proximity and feeling him so close to you sending a jolt of electricity through your skin.
You continue pointing out a few things you've noticed, especially some defensive weaknesses you think he could exploit, but every nerve in your body is on high alert with each and every glancing touch from him.
"It's sexy the way you can break things down," he mumbles out loud, but he meant to only think it to himself.
You pause the video, and look at him, "I'm sorry, what?" You notice the tips of his ears are pink.
"I like the way you break down film," he breathes out.
"That's definitely not what you said," you chuckle.
You move to restart the video, deciding not to press him on his choice of words. But he grabs your wrist to stop you.
"You're right, I said it's sexy," the low tone of his voice making you shudder.
"Is that so?" You arch an eyebrow as you turn to face him a bit more.
"And? Is that hard to believe or something?" his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip.
"Come on, you know you're hot," he knits his eyebrows together.
"I mean, maybe to some people," you shake your head as quiet laughter escapes your lips.
"The way you think is sexy, you are sexy, to me," he emphasizes the last two words of his statement.
"You can't mean that," you smile nervously. "You're um, you're you," you motion up and down him with your hand, "and I'm, well I'm not exactly the type of girl that you're probably used to."
"No, you're not, but that doesn't make you any less hot," he brushes his lips against yours, testing the waters.
The kiss stuns you, but your body immediately reacts to his as you both share a brief smile before he kisses you again, a bit more fervently this time.
A soft groan escapes from deep within his chest when you thread your fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck and allow him to slip his tongue into your mouth.
He pulls away from you just long enough to close your laptop and sit it on the bedside table. He turns back to you and tucks a lose strand of hair behind your ear before skimming his fingers along your jaw and tilting your face upward to kiss you again.
As your breathing becomes ragged, his kisses lower to your jaw and along the column of your neck as he slides on hand under the hem of your shirt. His position changes as settles himself between your legs, his hardened bulge pressing into your thigh.
"Christian," you breathe out.
"Hmm," he mumbles against your collarbone.
"Should we be doing this?"
He brings his face up to hover over yours, his eyes dark with lust.
"Maybe not, but I don't really want to stop," he admits quietly, "do you?"
You blink a couple of times as you contemplate his words, "not really," you sigh as he softly places his lips on yours.
He leans back again, judging your expression, "we can stop if you want to, at any time y/n. I don't want to, but I will."
"No," you shake your head slightly, "no, I don't want to stop." You lean up and kiss him again, nipping softly at his lower lip as he lets out a quiet moan and grinds against you.
"You have no idea how bad I want you," he whispers against the shell of your ear, one of his hands skimming against your waist again.
"I want you, too," you whisper back, tugging at his shirt.
He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head while you do the same. A shy smile spreads over his lips while you both take each other in.
He cups his hands over your bra, the thin lace separating his thumbs from your nipples when he brushes over them before sliding his hands around to the clasp. He pauses for a moment, waiting for your approval before he moves any further. You give him a quick nod and he undoes the clasp, removing the straps from your arms as he kisses over your collar bones and tosses it to the side.
You settle back onto the pillows as he holds eye contact with you. "You still ok?" asks quietly as you give him a reassuring smile and nod. Only then do his eyes drop to your now exposed breasts.
He grazes his thumbs over your already hardened nipples, pulling a quiet gasp from you before dipping his head to pull one of them into his mouth.
He switches between one breast and the other, flicking his tongue over your nipples, sucking at them and rolling them between his fingers until your breathing is heavy, quiet moans are falling from your lips, and you are grinding your core against him seeking out any friction you can get.
He kisses his way down your stomach until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. He glances back up to you, once again silently asking for permission as you lift your hips and give him the slightest nod.
He slides your shorts and underwear off, biting his lower lip as he sees you laid bare for him. You move to cover yourself under his intense stare but he grabs your hand and stops you, faintly shaking his head as his eyes burn into yours.
"You don't need to hide from me," he smirks as he settles between your legs and kisses over the tops of your thighs, "you look incredible like this, you always look amazing, but like this..." he trails off as a groan escapes his lips.
He traces his fingers around your entrance, brushing his thumb over your clit and watching your reaction, desperate to learn what makes you feel good.
"We should probably try to be quiet," he whispers against your stomach as he continues teasing you, "even though I'd love to make you scream," he winks at you causing you to giggle quietly, somehow breaking the tension in the room.
He hovers his face of yours as he slides one finger into you feeling you instantly clench around him.
"Use two," you whisper against his lips.
He nods and slides a second finger into you while massaging your clit with his thumb. You arch your back to meet his movements and he presses his lips to yours to swallow your quiet moans.
"Can I taste you?" he asks quietly as he kisses along your jaw feeling you nod as you sigh "yes."
He slides his fingers out of you and pulls them into his mouth, humming at the taste, before settling between your legs with his face hovering just above your core.
You whine at the loss of contact and buck your hips towards his face as his warm breath fans across you.
He chuckles before he dips his tongue into your entrance, a faint moan escaping his lips as he licks his way to your clit. He sucks lightly before, tracing his tongue along your folds again and pushing it deeper into your entrance again.
He licks back to your clit, flattening his tongue against it before sucking and flicking at it, slipping two fingers back into you and feeling you clench around them.
He moans against you when you thread your fingers into his hair and tug slightly. He curls his fingers against your sweet spot and the moan of his name that falls from your lips makes him dizzy.
"Yes, Christian, just like that," you breathe out as involuntarily grind against him, "you're gonna make me cum," you moan.
He keeps doing exactly what he's doing, knowing that you are enjoying it. He sucks and flicks at your clit and continues working his fingers into you perfectly until he feels you clenching and shuddering around him.
He reaches one hand up to roll your nipple between his fingers and that's all it takes for you to come undone. Your orgasm washing over you with a moan of his name. He slows his movements and kisses over your clit softly as you come down from your high, grinding his painfully hard cock against the mattress desperately.
He kisses his way back up your body as you work to steady your breathing. He moves your hair away from your face and rubs his thumb soothingly over your cheekbone before leaning down to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself.
You hum against his lips, "that was, um, you were, holy shit, I can't think right now..." you trail off as he chuckles against your neck.
"We don't have to do anything else if you don't want to," he smiles softly down at you, "but it's so hot when you cum."
"I want more," you whisper against his neck as you trail a few kisses there, enjoying the whimper that escapes his lips when you find his sweet spot.
You trail your hands down his back, having come down from one high but craving another. When you reach the waistband of his shorts and push on it slightly, he sits up between your knees and pushes his shorts and boxers down, freeing himself as he kicks them off the end of the bed.
He grips his cock firmly, smirking when you bite your lip at the sight of him. He smears the leaking pre-cum over his tip with his thumb before bringing his thumb to your mouth to tug your lip free. He grins as you pull his thumb into your mouth, getting a slight taste of him, while never taking your eyes off of his cock.
"My eyes are up here, y/n" he chuckles as you look up to him blushing slightly.
"Yeah, I know where your eyes are, but I'm not worried about them right now," you grin.
A groan rips from his chest as you sit up just enough to wrap your fingers around him.
"I wanna feel you," you tug at him, "I want you," you nip at his earlobe as you pull him back down on the bed with you.
He pins one of your arms above your head while both of you line him up with your entrance. You grip your fingers into his hip as he barely pushes into you before pulling out and running his tip up to your clit. He teases you a couple more times before you hook your leg over his hip to hold him in place.
"Please quit teasing," you groan as you thrust your hips upward desperate to draw him into you further.
"Hmmm, I think you like it though," he chuckles as he inches into you a little more.
"Fuck, Christian, please." you breathe out, "don't make me beg."
"Oh, but you already are," he smirks at you, "and it's so hot, I'm tempted to make you do it a little more. But, fuck, I need to feel you."
"Fuck" you both moan as he pushes into you fully. His hand grips the one hand of yours he has pinned above you tightly while you dig your fingertips into his hips and arch your back pressing your body against him.
You gasp when he pulls out and slowly pushes into you again allowing you to feel every inch of him.
"Shit you feel good," he breathes out as he rocks into you slowly at first, your walls fluttering and clenching around him, "so fucking good."
He sets a steady pace, both of you panting and moaning quietly as you get lost in one another, but you can tell he's holding back a little.
"You can go harder," you grip his fingers tighter as he hits your g-spot.
"Hey" you whine when he pulls out of you completely and sits back on his knees.
He grabs a pillow from beside you, and jerks his chin up "lift your hips for me," he smirks when you comply.
Once he has the pillow positioned under your hips how he wants it, he pulls one of your legs over his forearm before pinning both of your arms above your head and pushing back into you.
You gasp at the new angle, feeling him deeper and even better than before.
"You like it a little rough, hmm," he groans into your ear but all you can do is moan in response.
"You're being so good for me, taking me so damn well, y/n" he moans against your neck when you clench around him at his words, "mmm you like that too, I think, you like it when I tell you you're good."
"Yes," you breathe out, "you feel so fucking good." You feel him twitch as he whimpers against your shoulder. You want to cringe at yourself for the praises that fall from your lips, but you can't because all you can think about at the moment is how good he feels and how well he is fucking you.
"Please, just like that, Christian" you moan, as his cock hits your sweet spot repeatedly.
"You gonna cum again, am I gonna make you cum again?" he stammers out as he feels his own high building.
"Yes, fuck," is all you can manage before you clench harshly around him and you break one of your hands free to grip into his bicep.
"That's it, let me have it, y/n" he groans as he feels you come undone, halting his movements for a few moments.
Once he knows you are through your own high, he thrusts lazily into you a few times, letting you catch your breath before picking up the pace again.
"I'm close," he whispers, "where can I..." he trails off.
"My mouth" you interrupt him, "I want to know what you taste like."
"Fuck," he groans, your words catching him off guard.
He pulls out of you quickly and stands on his knees while you sit up and position yourself on all fours in front of him, bringing one hand up to guide him into your mouth as he pulls your hair out of your face into a makeshift ponytail.
"Shit" he whimpers as you swirl your tongue around his tip before taking him fully into your mouth.
"Yes, just like that," he moans quietly when his tip hits the back of your throat causing you to gag.
"I'm gonna cum," he holds your head steady as he thrusts into your mouth, his hips beginning to falter as you grip your fingertips into his thigh.
A moan of your name falls from his lips as he releases into your mouth, the salty but sweet taste of him making your head spin. The image of him with his head thrown back in pure pleasure is one that will be burned into your memory. When you pull off of him and his head rolls forward to look at you, you open your mouth showing him his cum and he groans again. You throw him a wink before swallowing and licking your lips clean.
He collapses on the bed next to you and pulls you down beside him while he catches his breath.
"You're naughtier than I thought you would be," he chuckles as he nuzzles into your neck. Both of you covered in a light sheen of sweat as your breathing steadies.
"You've been thinking about me? Like this?" you question him, a bit surprised.
"Mmmhmm," he kisses your shoulder, "especially since last night with that drinking game," he confesses.
"Well, it is always the quiet ones, Christian," you giggle as he nods in agreement.
You lay there for a few more minutes as he trails his fingertips over you before you get up and grab your clothes.
You head into his bathroom to get dressed, the sudden realization of what just happened hitting you like a ton of bricks. You just had sex with Christian, really good sex, but still, that had to have broken some kind of rule. Fuck, this was stupid, you think to yourself as you drag your fingers through your hair trying to make yourself look more presentable.
You emerge from the bathroom to find Christian sitting on the bed with his shorts back on.
"I should um," you look down at your hands nervously, "I should go." You quickly grab your shoes and leave before giving him a chance to speak.
Once you're back in your room, you collapse on your bed, tears falling from your eyes as you think about the implications all of this could have on your job, your future, especially if anyone else found out. You're also worried about what he might think of you now, you were friends with him, now you've just slept with him, and you assume he thinks the worst of you at this point.
A quiet knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts as you get up and wipe the tears from your face, taking a deep breath before opening the door.
"Hey, you left your laptop," Christian stands in your doorway holding the computer out for you.
"Wait, are you crying," he asks, his voice full of concern as he edges his way into your room closing the door behind him.
"I'm fine," you offer him an unconvincing smile.
"No you're not," he says as he leads you towards your bed, putting your laptop down before sitting on the end and patting the open spot next to him.
"I am, really," you sigh as you sit down beside him.
"Come on, I know you're lying," he rolls his eyes before reaching up to gently turn your face towards him.
"Is it me?" he asks quietly, sighing when you nod.
"Do you regret it?" he looks at you sadly, like it will kill him if you say yes.
"No, it's not that," you answer him honestly, because you don't regret it, not in the least.
"Then what is it?" he gently pushes you for an answer.
His hand slides around your waist and pulls you closer to him as you rest your head on his shoulder and he rests his head on top of yours.
"I don't regret it, and I don't want you to think that, but it's all just kind of hit me and I don't know," you sigh, "I mean we work together, and there's probably rules against it, and you probably think I'm a slut who just sleeps with everyone..." your words trail off as he gets up and moves to kneel in front of you.
"Look at me, please," he asks quietly.
You open your eyes to stare down into his as they silently plead with you.
"First of all, I'm not going to let you say that about yourself, because I don't think that at all, I could never think that about you. We are two consenting adults who just had amazing, mind blowing sex in my opinion. Secondly, I don't know if there are rules or not, but no one else has to know, it can stay between us. Last, I'm begging you, please don't say this was a one time thing," he slides his hands over yours, kissing your fingertips.
"Christian, I don't know if we should," you shake your head at him, "but thank you for keeping it between us."
You feel slightly better when he stands up and pulls you into a hug.
"Guess I'm the first victim of your blonde fuckboy summer," you giggle against him as you feel him shake with laughter.
"I'm not a fuckboy," he chuckles.
"Yeah, you'd have to actually talk to people for that," you grin at him when he nods and brushes his fingers through his hair before settling them back on your jaw.
"Are we good?" he asks quietly.
You nod, "yeah we're good."
"Ok, I'll see you tomorrow then," he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead before leaving.
You try to act as normal as possible over the next few days, but Wes notices that there seems to be some tension between you and Christian. When he asks you about it you try to play it off, but you're not sure how convincing you were.
"We have to do better at acting normal," Christian says to you one evening when the two of you are alone in the elevator.
"I know, I'm trying," you smile at him.
"I can't stop thinking about it," he says quietly.
"Me either," you agree with him as he loops his pinky with yours.
"But I'm not sure we should again," you say lowly.
"I know," he sighs.
"See you tomorrow," he leans down and kisses your cheek before you get off of the elevator at your floor.
You and Christian have gone somewhat back to normal after Wes questioning both of you and you are thankful that he no longer seems suspicious that something happened.
The last match of the camp is a muddy one in El Salvador. As much as you're trying to pay attention to your work, seeing Christian soaked to the bone and covered in mud has you aching for him in a way you know you shouldn't be.
"You played well," you smile at him as you hand him a towel and he uses it to wipe his face before handing it back to you and pulling his shirt over his head to give you his monitor. You take the monitor from him and hand the towel back to him but he doesn't miss the way your eyes drag over his naked upper body and bite your lip subconsciously.
The #10: you wanna hang out tonight when we get back to the hotel?
Y/N: I need a long shower, but maybe after that?
The #10: I could use another shower, still finding mud 😉
Y/N: I suppose that could've been taken as an invitation
The #10: only if you meant for it to be 🙃
Y/N: meet me at my room. Do not get caught.
The #10: 🥷
When you got to your room you turned on the shower and peeled your soaked jacket off, leaving you in an equally soaked USA shirt that left very little to the imagination.
Your stomach somersaulted when you heard a knock at the door. You open it and Christian's breath hitches in his throat at the sight of you. You pull him into your room and shut the door behind him as his hands immediately start roaming your body while he attacks your neck with kisses.
"You're wet," he chuckles against you.
"Soaked," you mumble back as he pulls your shirt over your head while you work to undress him as well.
You're both a tangled mess by the time you get into the shower together.
You trail kisses down his neck and chest until you've settled on your knees in front of him, his thumb caresses your jaw as you look up at him, watching as the droplets of water fall from his hair and roll down his body.
You stroke your hand along his hardened length a few times before licking a stripe from his base to his tip.
"Fuck," he groans.
"Is anyone in these rooms around you," his eyes burn into yours while you swirl your tongue around his tip.
"Nope, we're scattered all over the place," you grin up at him.
"Good," he winks at you.
You take him into your mouth, sucking lightly as you run your tongue along the vein on the underside of his shaft and work his base with your hand.
"You're fucking good at that," he moans as his head tips back and he grips his fingers into your hair. He steadies your pace just slightly, and the whimpers and moans escaping from him send a wave of pleasure to your core.
You trail your free hand down your body, moaning against him when your fingers meet your clit before sliding two of them into you. You moan again when you pulse them against your sweet spot, sending a vibration through his cock causing him to look down at you.
"Holy shit," he takes in the scene in front of him, water glistening all over your body, your lips wrapped tightly around him as you fuck your fingers into yourself.
He pulls you off of him, quickly pulling you back to your feet and reaching his hand up to brush his thumbs over your nipples causing you to shudder.
"If you need to fuck something, y/n" he grins as he wraps his fist around his cock, "it should be me."
You turn around in front of him and bend over just slightly, pressing your hands against the tile, "fuck me, Christian," you breathe out.
You look over your shoulder to see him staring at you, blinking.
"I want you to fuck me," you say again, a little more desperation in your voice than you'd like.
He reaches behind him and takes removes the detachable shower head from its holder and guides it down your body, streaming the water directly over your clit.
A loud moan escapes you as you reach for the wrist that's holding the shower head making sure he keeps it in just the right spot. He's smooths his hand over the curve of your ass before grabbing his cock and lining it up with your entrance.
You push back against him causing him to chuckle, "so needy, baby." You clench around nothing at him calling you baby before he pushes into you in one long stroke causing both of you to moan.
His hips snap into yours quickly as you fuck yourself back onto him, knowing your high is rapidly approaching.
"That's it, y/n," he groans, "take what you need."
"You can be a slut for me, baby, it can be our secret," he moans as you clench around him.
"Ohh, fuck, I'm not sure if you like being called my slut, or a good girl more," he chuckles when you clench again.
"Maybe my good little slut," your legs shake nearly causing you to collapse, "hmm, yes, that one I think," he leans down to speak directly into your ear burying himself fully into you.
"Come on, y/n, cum for me," he says lowly before driving into you again harshly until you come undone and push the shower head away from you, your orgasm violently ripping through you as he slides his arm around you to keep you upright.
He fucks you through it chasing his own high, you watch him through your blurred vision in the mirror. When he pulls out of you and wraps his fist around his dick you turn slightly to watch over your shoulder as he releases onto your back.
He notices you watching as he finishes, smirking and throwing you a wink as you watch him in a completely fucked out haze.
He takes the shower head and washes his cum from your back before standing you upright, his arms continuing to keep you steady.
You wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head against his chest after he's put the shower head back in the holder letting the warm water fall over the two of you.
"You ok?" he says waiting for you to nod before he removes his arms from around you and grabs your body wash.
You both shower off and wash your hair before stepping out of the shower. He wraps a towel around his waist as you dry off and wrap yours around you as well moving on to towel drying your hair. He watches as you brush your hair and get dressed, taking a few minutes to dress himself as well.
"Hard to believe it's gonna be a few months before I see you again," he says as he sits on the end of your bed and pulls you to stand between his legs.
"Yeah, I guess September," you shrug at him.
"Well you have an open invitation to visit me in Florida, or we're doing preseason in the States..." he trails off looking up at you.
"Christian, that's probably not a good idea," you frown at him, "I mean, I think it would raise a lot of suspicions if I was visiting you outside of camp."
He nods, "yeah, you're probably right."
"So next camp?" he smirks at you.
"Next camp," you shake your head at him.
****end of flashback***
**********************************
You wake before your alarm, staring at Christian as he sleeps quietly, still wondering to yourself how you got to this point. You reach over to trace your fingers against the slight stubble on his jaw.
"You keep doing that and I'm going to fall in love with you," he mumbles sleepily, the huskiness in his voice evident.
You pull your hand away and he chuckles and pulls it back, kissing the inside of your palm without ever opening his eyes.
"You can't fall in love with me," you whisper and he opens his eyes to look at you, taking in the softness of your features bathed in early morning light.
"And why is that," he knits his eyebrows together.
"Because I'm the girl you fuck on international break, Christian, not the girl you fall in love with," you try to smile but he knows it's forced.
His alarm interrupts your conversation.
"We should get up," you say quietly, "we need to run."
He shakes his head, "I did my cardio for the day around 2 am I think."
"Nope, doesn't count," you grin as he tries to pull you back into the bed when you move to get up.
You finally pull him out of bed, "I will not be a distraction," you look at him sternly, before turning away to go get dressed.
"Hey," he grabs your wrist and turns you back to him, "you are not a distraction." He emphasizes his words slipping his fingers through yours and squeezing slightly.
You are everything, you think you're not, he thinks to himself.
Taglist:
@chilwellspulisic @neverinadream @pulisicsgirl @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @nyctophilic0vitnir @lunamelona @tall-tanned-tattoo @lizzypotter14 @xjval @notsoattractivearenti @landoslover @brasiliangp @judeswifeyyyyyyyy
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hazz-a-bear · 2 days
Text
LATE NIGHT TALKING, wen junhui
♡⸝⸝ Jun would go through all his practices, his schedules and all the draining busyness of his life ten more times if, at the end of the day, it meant he could still curl into your arms and melt into a bliss of comfort, spilt-tea and a whole lot of shit-talking.
.ᐟ fluff. like no angst this time, i promise. just jun and reader engaging in sleepy late-night talking. jun is the best person to share tea with, change my mind. sugar daddy black card owner woozi makes an appearance (this should be a earning of its own) mention of some sexual activities. some seungcheol slander but we love him. also seokmin being a clumsy little ball of sunshine.
a/n - finally finished a fluffy jun fic because I keep giving him hell in all my other drabbles. took me so long to finish but so so worth it! please give me some feedback <3
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"We should really go to sleep, baby. We have to get up early tomorrow, remember?"
You groan when Junhui reminds you, for the nth time that night, about how you're supposed to wake up at ass crack of dawn tomorrow to go to work.
"Do not even, Jun. I feel a migraine coming when I even think about it" You complain from where you're laying on your stomach, arms spread out and one cheek pressed against the mattress. You watch as Jun laughs next to you with his eyes crinkling and all. He turns his head your way, looking at you with his familiar starry eyes.
"But really, love" He says, bringing up a hand to brush against the back of your head. His arm is bent at a weird angle since he's laying on his back but it doesn't stop him from stroking the back of your head, knuckles comforting running along your hair in an attempt to soothe you down. "I have to leave early too. Rehearsal is starting at 7.00"
"Jun, Noo" You whine, the idea of the two of you two parting for the day annoying you. "Why do you have to go early?"
Jun laughs again as you roll onto your back, ending up half on top of him in the process. Instead of pushing you away, Jun let you sprawl out on top of him without a complaint. You're spread over him, possibly suffocating him, when one of his hands comes up to slither around your stomach. Silently, you let Jun manoeuvre you into the spot right next to him, body curling in on him once you're safely tucked to his side.
"I know, baby, I know. I wish I could stay with you too. I hate going to practices and not seeing you every day"
"Woah" You smile with faux astonishment, looking up at Junhui. "Can you say- here let me get my phone. Can you say that again, Jun. I bet Seungcheol would love to hear that"
Jun watches you with amusement as you reach over him towards the nightstand, where your phone lies. But before you can pick up the device, he's pulling you down on top of him with a fond giggle.
"Oh, you're so eager to get me fired, hm? Is that it? Is that it, baby?"
You push your face into his t-shirt as Jun wraps his arms around you, almost suffocating you as he tries to annoy you with his best baby voice. He continues to coddle you, pulling you more into him and burying his face in your hair while trying to jostle you in his hold.
"Now, now, we can't have that, can we? Who's gonna pay off my Amazon wishlist if you lose your job?" You laugh trying to get out of his grip. "We absolutely can't have you getting fired"
"Woah, your amazon list? The one where you have like ten thousand items on? You expect me to pay all of those?" Jun dramatically gasps as he pulls back to look at you, eyes wide and all kind of dramatic. "Baby, I'm no Woozi"
His comment immediately has you throwing your head back.
"Oh my god, Jun" You speak through your chuckles. You can feel Jun's eyes settled on you, watching you laugh into your sleeve with glistening eyes.
"Speaking of, Junnie. Have you seen that one clip of Woozi handing his black card to Vernon? To get fucking bubbles?" You groan, rolling on top of Jun again. "I need someone to hand me their black card to get bubbles too, Vernon is living the baby girl dream, it's not fair"
Jun groans at your voice, hands coming up to hover over his face. "Baby, I gave you my card yesterday and you got-"
"No, like, imagine Jun. Having a sugar daddy like him?" You suddenly cut him off and turn to him with a serious look in your eyes. "Wait, oh my god. Do you think you can set me up with him?
Jun looks unsurprised while you scramble to sit up from his side in a sudden urgency. "Oh my god, Jun, please. Please tell him to hit me up"
"Yup, of course. I'll ask him" His voice is light, unphased at your eagerness. After all, it's common for him to listen to you and beg him to set you up with somebody from his own group. It happens on a daily basis, with different members over and over again. Last month, it was Seokmin. You had been watching Hansol's 'Black Eye' music video on a loop for the entirety of the last week. And now there's a Mingyu pc dangling from your work bag.
It never bothers Junhui. Because who cares if it was Jeonghan or Jisoo in the back of your phone as long as he's still the one who's in your heart and goes to bed with you every night? (And especially not when the considerably sized Junhui shrine has been sitting in the back of your closet like a proud monument over the years)
"Oh my god, thank you so much. I love you, baby" You whine and reach to press a fleeting kiss to his cheek, Junhui accepts it with a nod and a broad smile. "Ugh, I'm literally on my knees"
"Like you did about thirty minutes ago?"
Of course. This is Wen Junhui we're talking about.
"Junhui, you- oh my god. What the-" You stutter for a moment before, "Wait, wait. Hold up. Why was that kinda good?"
Jun shrugs when you eye him, still in his lying position. "That was a good comeback, Ten out of ten, good job baby"
"Is it blowjob worthy?"
What's the point of his existence if he doesn't throw in some earth-shattering comment at the most surprising time in the most laidback voice?
"Nope" You deny as you lay back down next to him "It wasn't that good, baby, know your limits. And, also, you can't keep getting horny all the time, Jun. I'm convinced you're a dog in heat now"
"Oh, I know you love it, you freak" Jun laughs lightly.
A silence blankets the two of you after that, the only sound falling in your ears being your synced breathing. The night around you is chilly, prickly against the skin of your fingers.
Your body heat has always run colder than usual, palms and feet are always cold. So when you inch towards Jun and sneakily drag your toes against his legs, he's grumbling.
"Yn, no. Cold feet- get away from me" You laugh as Jun tries to shuffle away from you, deemed unsuccessful when you throw a leg over his him and lock him down. Jun continues to let out all kinds of groans of complaint, going off about how he's sick with you trying to rub your cold skin against his.
You listen to his complaints, half bemused and half pretending to listen with a pout. Yet you couldn't help but let a genuine smile paint across your lips at the way Jun keeps talking, hands flailing and everything.
"- See, you're not even listening to me" Jun is staring down at you, his speech on 'why my girlfriend trying to freeze me to death; with proof' long forgotten. "Yn, are you?"
"Not at all, baby" You hum, attention set on the way wisps of brown hair fell against his forehead.
Jun just looks so soft like this. In his sleep shorts, a white t-shirt that you don't know belongs to which one of you, hair feathery against his and eyes laced with tiredness yet not enough to lull him to a night of sleep - he looks like a little pampered baby and it makes your heart swell a little.
"What are you staring at?"
"You look so cute right now" And immediately, even under the darkness of the night, you can see the way a flush washes over his face. Jun is so easy to fluster.
"What do you mean?" He says shyly, looking away. "I always look the same"
"True, but," You reach up, bringing your fingers to brush away the strands of hair that fall into his eyes. Your palm settles into the side of his face, keeping his eyes on you. "You look so rested, baby. So well. I love you like this"
Your eyes flutter close when his lips settle on yours. His hand comes up to hold your own against his face, pulling you to him. It's a lazy kiss, just lips resting on each other and nothing more, nothing less. Your thumb brushes across his cheek like they always do. A simple declaration of love whispered in the dark of night with just a press of lips.
"Let's actually go to sleep now, yeah?" Junhui whispers as if not to disturb the quietness around him. His eyes are still closed and his lips brush against yours when he speaks. "I love you"
You feel him pull away, making you lay down on the sheets again. He reaches towards the bedside table where a silicone night lamp in the shape of a cartoon cat sits. It's the first gift you have given him. No special occasion, just because it reminded you so much of him.
It's been years since you gave it to him, all shy smiles and surprised eyes from him. And to this day, Jun turns it on a moment before the two of you sleep, illuminating a small part of the room in a warm light.
When Jun returns to your side, you latch yourself to his arm. One of you will wake up with a dead and prickly arm tomorrow but neither of you cares anyway. Jun pulls you more into him, legs entangled and your head resting on his shoulder. You're almost certain that he's falling asleep at the silence but no, neither of you are done yet.
"Yn, oh my god. I forgot to tell you" Jun's voice is pitched, excitement bubbling at his words and immediately you're all ears. You roll, almost on top of him, before propping up with your hands under your chin. The angle is uncomfortable, with your hands digging into his chest and you having a view up his nostrils but if the tea is hot enough, you need to hear it.
"Seokmin almost burned off Seungkwan's foot today" Jun says, breaking in a story that happened during practices today.
"What the fuck? How even?"
"Okay, so," And then he starts, his sleep postponed. "Seungkwan wanted some hot water because his throat was acting up. And he asked Seokming to get it from his. So Seok got the flask it was in and you know, he was trying to be extra nice and pour it into the cup and give it to Seungkwan"
"Oh no, Seokmin's hand-eye coordination only works on stage" You gasp, making Jun nod his head frantically. "Did he spill it?"
"Exactly, baby" He confirms with wide eyes, matching with yours. "He almost dropped the entire thermal on Seungkwan. And mind you, yn- this is like hot hot water we're talking about!"
"Oh my god"
"Yeah! He fumbled and somehow ended up with everything on the floor. Right there, in the practice room," Jun finishes with a sad sigh, one hand falling against the mattress and the other on your back.
"Oh, lord. Poor Seokminnie" You say, making him look towards you with equally sympathetic eyes. "I bet Seungcheol made him scrub the floor"
When Jun stares at you with an exasperated look and tight lips, you gasp and sit up a little.
"No way, he actually did?" Your voice is loud as you scramble on top of Jun, an accusatory voice shooting out of you. "That fucker. Everybody knows Seok's not good at pouring stuff or holding things for more than 10 seconds, baby, it's not his fault"
'I know, Seungcheol is just a grumpy old man. He likes to see us suffer" Jun's laughter dies down slowly, and a quietness settles in once again around the two of you.
If there was anything you loved more than quiet nights like this - Jun's breathing against your chest and his hand running down your back in the softest touch, it would be when he starts talking. As cheesy as it sounds, his voice was something you could listen to forever. The way his voice sounds feathery when he's happy, the way it muddles together without a beginning or an end when he's excited or even the way his voice withers in breathy hiccups when he pushes his face into your neck and breaks.
Jun's voice - all slurred words, sometimes jumbled together and spoken in a comforting baritone - was your favourite sound in the whole world.
(That might be a lie because your actual favourite in the whole world sounded something like the voice in the app that reads out your bank balance, but Jun doesn't need to know that)
"You're getting sleepy," The said voice of your boyfriend is what breaks you out of your trance. Blinking your eyes open, you realize you've closed your eyes during your inner monologue without even noticing.
"I'm not. I can stay up," You say in an assuring voice, going to cuddle into the warmth of Jun's body. "I wanna keep talking to you"
Jun's arms tighten around you as you mumble, eyes heavy with exhaustion. You can almost picture him gazing at you with lips down turned and eyes dripping with fond.
"Oh, sweetheart. I know you want to. But we should get some sleep, yeah? Busy day tomorrow for both of us. So let's go to sleep, okay?"
A reply comes to him in the form of a whine. He should've expected you to put up a fight at the end of the day, not wanting to close your eyes and rest instead of staying up late gossiping with him. And as much as he wanted nothing less himself, he also knew the regret you both would face tomorrow if you didn't get enough sleep. After all, neither of you was a stranger to sleeping through alarms, running around the house half-dressed and feeling all kinds of miserable while almost falling flat on your face at work.
"Junni, did I tell you about the love triangle at work? Lord, I don't think it's a triangle anymore, baby"
Jun almost snickers at your sleepy mumbling, eyes drooping and words slurring in a state of half-awake. The way you try to keep the conversations flowing even though sleep is clearly overtaking you gnaws at his heart. His soul swells a little when he is reminded of how much you enjoy chitchatting with him.
Whether it's family gossip, shit-talking about your co-workers or absolutely destroying your neighbour and her seventy-year-old chihuahua - the two of you could go on for hours, days even. And the fact that you are so willing to throw away your sleep schedule, just to spend time with him makes him choke back a sob.
"- yeah, I think it's a lo- love pentagon now. It's all such a mess, Junnie"
"Yeah?" Jun eggs on your mumbling, hand still running down your back in the way he knows would put you to sleep. "Baby, as much as I like to hear about Sarah and her twelve boyfriends, let's go to sleep, yeah? I promise I'll listen to it tomorrow. You can tell me all about it, okay, sweetheart?"
When he finally receives a small nod in return, Jun sighs. Knowing you're too tired to keep it up, he moves the two of you slightly till you've got one leg thrown over his hip and one of his hands on your back. You nuzzle your face on his shoulder, trying to find a position comfortable enough to fall asleep on and Jun almost cried at the way it resembles a cat. But for now, he sticks to brushing off your hair from your forehead and pressing his lips to your skin.
"I love you, sweetheart. So much, okay?" He lets his lips rest against your forehead, your skin cold against his. He can feel you press your own kiss to his shoulder in a fleeting manner.
"I love you too. I'm gonna miss you tomorrow"
And finally, after what feels like hours of laying next to each other, Jun feels his own eyelids drooping. The exhaustion of the non-stop rehearsals and schedules finally catches up to him as time passes. Although curling into you at the end of the day always soothes his soreness away, he still allows himself to bask in the feeling of his limbs melting into the mattress. The fact that he has to get up early tomorrow, go through the labour again and work himself to the bone nags at the back of his mind. Yet the thought of you being there with open arms and a shit ton of stories about everything immediately makes it somewhat better so he closes his eyes with a small smile grazing his lips.
But just when he's finally settled into the comfort, breathing even and sleep just around the corner - you're scrambling next to him.
"Oh my fucking god, Jun, I forgot to tell you about the baby-"
Oh god. He loves you so much.
"Baby, I will throw you across the goddamn room if you don't shut the fuck up"
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str4wberriesforyou · 17 hours
Note
wanna read hamzah being a little spoon soooo bad 😁😏
the littlest spoon
hamzahthefantastic x reader
I think this one turned out so cute tysm for your request🥺🫶
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You’re grateful for nights like these, when you can just light a candle and unwind, scroll through your phone while your boyfriend taps away on his computer. He sits at his desk, glasses low on his nose and hair still wet from his shower earlier.
You put your phone down after the clock hits 11:30, plugging it into its charger after setting your alarm for the morning. You slide out of bed, approaching Hamzah with a gentle smile adorning your lips.
Without turning his head from his computer, he reaches his arm out and pulls you closer by your hips to his side, rubbing his hand along the side of your bare thigh. “Hey, baby.”
“Hi.” Your voice is low with fatigue. “Come to bed.”
Your fingers reach for his wet curls, sifting through them and arranging them in ways you know Hamzah would hate. You giggle to yourself after giving him a middle part.
“Stop,” he laughs, swatting your hands from his hair. “Get in bed. Let me go brush my teeth and I’ll join you.”
He stands and your heart flutters in a funny way. You nearly forgot how much taller he is than you, now having to crane your face up at him instead of down.
He thinks it’s the cutest thing though, and can’t resist taking your cheeks in his hands and laying his lips to your temple. His lips are soft and warm against your hairline, so you close your eyes for a moment to savor it, your hands holding onto his forearms.
After just a few more smooches to your head, he pulls back.
“Go,” he turns you, lightly smacking your ass as you crawl under the covers.
You laugh, kicking your feet at him. “Pervert.”
He returns with fresh teeth and strips out of his t-shirt, clad only in his plaid pajama pants as he crawls under the covers with you.
Feeling his weight dip into the mattress, you turn around to face him on your side, but he tsks at you.
“Turn around, I wanna spoon you.” His tone is needy, like it’s something he’s been looking forward to all day.
You hum in contemplation. “What if I want to spoon you?”
His face pulls back in confusion, brows furrowed like the concept is so strange. “Like…you want me to be little spoon?”
“Yeah.” You beam at him.
Who the hell could say no to that?
The defensive hyper-masculine in him wants to refuse. Do you take him as some sort of sissy? He’s a man, he doesn’t need to be coddled.
But… then he remembers Martin mentioning how nice it feels to be little spoon. To be held. It has always felt nice being held by you outside of bed, but he’s never tried it this way.
“O-okay, I guess.” He laughs, awkwardly finding his way on his side, his back to you. “Is this…what do I do?”
You don’t say anything, but rather slip your arms around his middle, pulling in close enough so that your chest is tucked up to his back, your heart drumming against his. Your legs intertwine with his, and your cheek meets his shoulder blade.
Hamzah’s abdomen is fluttering with butterflies, your soft, cold hands rubbing sweetly against the skin of his stomach.
“You’re so warm.” You sigh.
“You’re freaking cold. Your hands are like ice.”
He loves it, though, even if he’d never admit it out loud. This is the safest he’s felt in a while, and the little boy in him wants to cry. He holds it in, deciding to wrap his big arms over yours and sink into your embrace. Within minutes, his breath matches yours and he lulls to sleep.
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lees-chaotic-brain · 2 days
Note
Okay, ocean-loving Inumaki, you know? those who love jellyfish and have shark pajamas. Taking him on a date to the aquarium, I feel like he would be very happy and look so tiny 🤏🏻 Whatever. I love how you writing you're great!
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You take Inumaki on an aquarium date
WC: 1.4k
CW: mentions of octopi having sex ig, fluff, NOT beta-read, read at your own risk
Note: @kainlvstoge omg i'm sorry this took so long, but thank you so much for your kind words!! i had never thought about my boy inumaki as an ocean lover, but i can see it now that you said it. anyways, i hope you enjoy it!!! also: i had to do a little research for this fic, so take any facts with a grain of salt
Event Guide | Event Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation
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Every single date your boyfriend had taken you on was perfect; like something out of a dream. Picnics in a field of wildflowers on a sunny spring day, stargazing at night from a blanket nest in the back of a pickup truck he borrowed from one of Nobara’s relatives, watching fireworks on a balmy, clear summer night. Every romantic fantasy you ever had, he fulfilled, just by listening to you ramble about yourself.
Which is why you wanted so desperately to return the favor, and take him on his dream date. But there was one little problem. Actually, one looming, mortifying, mountain sized problem: you had no idea what his dream date would even look like. For weeks you pondered, agonizing over  whether or not to straight up ask him, ruining the surprise and admitting you’re a terrible significant other in the process. No. You couldn’t ask him. So you did the next best thing, which is why you were currently treating his best friend to coffee.
“So uh, not that I don’t appreciate it  or anything, but may I ask why you suddenly insisted on buying me coffee?”
Too nervous to meet Yuuta’s piercing blue-gray eyes, you stared daggers into your innocent chai latte.
“This is actually super embarrassing, but would you mind if I asked you for some advice?”
“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, but go ahead.”
Starting off, you told him about what a thoughtful and sweet boyfriend Toge is, before moving on to explain your dilemma, asking him for his help.
“And it’s not like I haven’t had a ton of ideas! It’s more like, none of them feel right, and I want this to be perfect.” You finish your explanation, looking at Yuuta hopefully. “So, I was hoping that as his best friend, you might have some suggestions?”
“Actually, I do.” He leans forward a bit, in a conspiratory manner. “Not a lot of people know this about him, so I’m not surprised you don’t, but you can’t tell him I told you, deal?”
You nod, willing to agree to pretty much anything at this point.
“He’s like, obsessed with anything ocean related. I mean, he’s a total geek about it. He’s got tons of facts about sea creatures memorized, and even has this pair of pajama pants with little jellyfish on them. So I’d take him to the aquarium if I were you. Before the two of you started dating, he used to drag me there every other weekend.”
You sat back in your seat, stunned. How did you not know this about him? In a week or so the two of you will have been dating for a year! Smiling, at Yuuta, you return to the campus and thank him profusely for his insight before returning to your room and pulling up the local aquarium’s website. You had a date to plan.
A little over a week later, your one year anniversary had arrived and you were ready. You had told your boyfriend to keep his schedule open because you had a surprise planned for him, so when you were ready with the tickets tucked securely in your bag, you told your boyfriend to meet you at the school gates.
When you arrived, he was already there, and you took a moment to appreciate how attractive he was in his casual clothes. He was wearing a black long sleeved shirt with a baggy white t-shirt over it, his black cargo pants mostly covering his battered converse. Looking up from his phone he waved at you grinning. Running up to him, you flung your arms around his neck, feeling his chest rumble with laughter as he caught you. 
“Konbu!” He greeted you, before pulling out his phone and typing something.
You look really nice today :)
“Thanks Toge!! I like your outfit too! It looks very comfortable.” You rub your hands up and down his sleeves for emphasis. “Now let's go!”
You grab his hand, and drag him off to the bus stop, ignoring his protests and questions regarding your date, simply telling him it’s a surprise for a reason.
After a short bus ride filled with mock bickering and laughter, you pull him off at your stop and wait for him to realize where you are.
The aquarium?? He waves his phone in your face, looking at you questioningly. How did you know?
You wink at him. “I have my ways. Now, do you want to go in, or not?”
His eyes widen, and he nods in excitement as he grabs your hand and tugs you along. After giving the lady at the booth your tickets, you let him take charge, as he clearly  was well acquainted with the place. Pulling you along, he chattered away excitedly via his phone, spewing random facts left and right.
For example at the shark exhibit:
Did you know that sharks are covered with little teeth called dermal denticles?? That’s why their skin feels like sandpaper!
He pressed his hand to the glass separating him from the shark with excitement in his eyes, as if he were imagining what it would feel like to pet one. You watched him, fascinated with this new side of him you were discovering.
At the octopus tank:
Did you know that having sex gives male octopi dementia? Imagine if humans were like that, it’d be hysterical
You shake your head as he giggles to himself, and let him guide you to the next exhibit.
Finally, the two of you take a break, buying lunch and sitting on a bench to eat. You observe the happiness on his face as he uses his fries to draw in his ketchup, positive the aquarium was the right choice. Sending Yuuta a silent thank you, you begin eating your own lunch.
The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, leaning against each other as you eat before you speak.
“It’s really cool that you know so much about the ocean and sea creatures, and it’s adorable how excited you get when you see them, but…I don’t exactly know how to say this, but why sea creatures? What got you so into them?”
Thoughtfully, Inumaki takes another bite of his sandwich before setting it down and grabbing his phone after wiping his hands. He types for a few minutes, pausing occasionally to delete a sentence and rewrite it. After what feels like forever, he scrolls back to the top, reads what he wrote, and hands you the phone.
I guess it’s probably because of my cursed technique. There’s not really much sound underwater, you know, but all of these creatures can still communicate. Like, did you know that lobsters pee out of their eyes, and that they pee on each other to communicate? Sure, it’s gross, and I can’t just go around peeing on people if I want to tell them something, but somehow it made me feel less alone. So every time I was frustrated or annoyed, because I couldn't speak, I went and learned something about sea creatures instead of feeling sorry for myself.
As you read, your heart hurt for him, but at the same time you were glad that he had found an outlet for his negative feelings. Handing him the phone back, you pulled him into a hug.
“I think it’s great that you found such a positive way of coping when you felt insecure, but I’m sorry you ever felt that way. I wish you had told me about it sooner, and I wish I had taken you to the aquarium before this.”
He pulled away, and you didn’t need anything typed out to read the vulnerability in his eyes.  “I don’t think you’re weird for loving sea creatures at all, and I don’t care that you can’t talk. I understand what matters, so you don’t need to use your words. And, if you’re okay with it, I would love to keep coming back here so you can teach me more about sea creatures. I want to know all sides of you, Toge. There’s not a single part of you I don’t love. So, let’s come back next weekend, what do you say?”
He nodded, and pulled you back into a hug. Nestling into his arms, you soaked up his warmth, feeling his love in his embrace. Because that was enough for the two of you to communicate.
All you needed was each other.
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mystery-box-gifs · 2 years
Photo
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Jinyoung - Homecoming BTS Prt. 2
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ddejavvu · 9 months
Note
I’d love to see a jake seresin x secret wife au. The dagger squad doesn’t realize he’s married until Phoenix invites reader out to the bar with them! Thanks you’re the best!!
You're reminded just how little you know Natasha when she invites you out for drinks, and you end up at the bar adjacent to the naval base. You've been inside only once with Jake before, when you were still dating and he was going through training at top gun. Now he's a graduate, and the place brings back fond memories. You've chatted, of course, when she stops by for breakfast at the bakery you work for, but you've never discussed her career before.
"Hope you don't mind we're close to base," She grins, "My friends wanted to meet here, and I get free drinks 'cause the bartender likes me. They have this bell system to embarrass all the assholes here, and I think I ring it more than she does."
"I've been here before," You admit, tentatively grabbing her arm as she weaves through the crowd, "My husband and I came here once, a long time ago. I don't think the bartender was a woman, though."
"She just bought the place a few years ago," Natasha nods, sliding onto a stool at the bar, "Careful, don't put your phone on the bar."
You tuck the device safely away in your pocket as a brunette woman turns to you, a sweet smile on her face as she recognizes Natasha.
"Hey, Phe," She hums, and you don't have time to ask what the nickname means, "Brought a friend?"
"I'm Y/N," You introduce yourself, noting that they seem like close friends, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Penny."
You nod and beam at her when she offers you an identical bottle of beer to the one Natasha takes. You decline, though, ordering your usual instead. Jake's out with his friends tonight, but he's pledged to be a responsible drinker in case you need to be picked up from your girls' night.
"Can I get, uh," Natasha peers through the crowd, turning back when you assume she's found her target, "Five more?"
"Fanboy's got one already," Penny hums, taking four chilled bottles from beneath the counter, "You want help carrying them?"
"We're good!" You wrap one hand around two bottles, trusting Natasha to lead you towards her friends in the hectic crowd. You don't remember it being this busy when you'd come with Jake, maybe the new management really helped.
She treks you all the way over to a pool table along the wall, where a few men in jeans and t-shirts are huddled. You're taken by surprise, though you're not sure why. You'd automatically assumed her friends would be women, and you wonder if that's concerning. Possible internal bias aside, you smile at the men who stand to greet you.
"Hello," You wave, handing off beers to the two that meet you first,"I'm Y/N, you're Natasha's friends?"
"We are," A tall man grins, holding a hand out for you to shake now that it's not wrangling beers, "I'm Reuben. But you can call me Payback, if you want."
Natasha still has one of the beers in her hands, and you hear the man beside her, who she greets as Fanboy, mention something about the bathroom. Apparently you still have someone to meet.
You refocus on Reuben, "Payback," You tilt your head slightly to the side, "Is that a callsign? Are you a pilot?"
"We all are," The man who'd taken the other beer from you nods along with Payback, a burnt red mustache on his lip, "Natasha's is Phoenix. And I'm Rooster."
Your stomach drops.
"Wait, uh- Rooster? And- and Phoenix, and Payback," Your head spins slightly with recollections of Jake's crazy work stories, and you take a step back, "Are you- you're all stationed to this base?"
"Temporarily," Rooster frowns, "Hey, are you okay?"
"My husband-" You don't get the words out before he emerges from the bathroom, stopping dead in his tracks with a furrow in his brow that wrinkles his forehead.
"Darlin'?" He calls, just loud enough to be heard over the music.
"Jake?" You're equally incredulous, "I- these are the friends you're going out with?"
"Yeah, I-" He wanders closer, still at a general loss for words, "You know Phoenix?"
"Natasha gets breakfast at the bakery," You breathe, now that he's close enough to hear your dumbfounded murmur. You have an audience, but you don't care, not as Jake's confused expression melts into a sheepish smile.
"Well, small world. You look stunning tonight, honey."
"Thanks," You grin bashfully, keeping one hand on your drink and using the other to cup his cheek, tugging him down into a quick kiss. No matter how chaste it is, it gets a reaction.
"Oh," Fanboy gawps, "You're- her husband? You- Hangman, dude, you're married?"
"I am," Jake hums, ringing an arm around your waist and taking the beer from Natasha that she's too shock-stricken to hand to him. He pops the cap off on the edge of the pool table, bringing the fizzing mouth to his lips for a swig. He swallows, "Six years and counting."
"You're married to Hangman," Natasha- er, Phoenix repeats, "You married him?"
"Uh, I did," You laugh, twisting the ring on your finger.
"He never wears a ring," Rooster narrows his eyes at Jake accusatorily, "What, you're keeping her hidden away or something?"
"No," Jake scoffs, "It kept getting dirty when I was doing maintenance on my jet. I keep it on my dog tags, Bradshaw."
He brandishes the chain with both his ID and wedding band on it, and Rooster takes a swig of beer in response.
"How the hell was I supposed to know that, man? I don't stare at your chest in the locker room."
"Well you're missin' out," Jake drawls, turning to grin at you, "Ain't that right, honey?"
"Jake," You hiss, "Not here!'
"Oh, don't get all fussy. Most of these guys have seen my dick," He waves a dismissive hand in the air, nearly spilling his beer. You swear you hear someone mumble, 'unfortunately', but Jake drowns them out, "They don't care if we flirt. Hey, whaddya say we sharpen up those pool skills of yours?"
"Alright," You nod, letting him lead you over to the table, "Natasha, can you hold my drink?"
She takes it like it's her duty to protect you, even though your big strong husband has just bent you over the pool table. It takes you a few tries to be able to hit the ball at all with your clumsy grip on the cue, but when it finally cascades the colorful targets around the table, Jake whoops, landing a congratulatory smack to your ass that his friends groan at.
"Nice goin', darlin'. Gonna beat Bradshaw into the ground in no time."
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evielmostdefinitely · 4 months
Text
scorned earth |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|
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prompt: the last stop on your honeymoon tour of the districts, leaves coriolanus to show you parts of his past, making new memories with you. based off this ask from the other day :)
contains: smut 18+. dark!possessive!coriolanus. mentions of corio's past. dom/sub dynamics. skinny dipping, semi-public sex. pinvsex. mean-ish!coriolanus.
“Where are you taking me?” You looked around at the tall trees, the sun peaking through the branches onto the moss covered ground. Your hand in Coriolanus’, fingers intertwined, letting him lead you through the thicket of trees. 
“It’s a surprise, my love. I told you.” Coryo’s eyes were bright, daring with excitement. Turning back to look at you over his shoulder, the sun caught in his baby blues, making your heart skip. “You trust me, don’t you?” 
You melted at his words, smiling softly. “Of course, I do.” You whispered, letting him tug you through the forest. “I-I’m just worried about snakes, or bears, or-” 
“-I won’t let them hurt you.” Coryo smiled, squeezing your hand. The pistol resting on his hip offered some comfort to you. “That’s why I’m going first.” 
You’d blame it on the warmth of the day, hot but breezy, as the reason you were so flustered at his words. The heat in your cheeks, tingling up your spine. District Twelve was the last stop on your tour, the last stop on your honeymoon. Coriolanus insisted on showing you around, to some of his favorite spots from his Peacekeeper days. After putting the town on a strict lockdown- you weren’t sure why he did it, but you didn't dare question it- he dragged you out here. 
“This is…” You looked at the water, sparkling from sunlight, and the greenery all around it. 
“Breathtaking isn’t it?” Coriolanus’ arms found your waist, chin tucking over your shoulder. The breeze fell between the two of you, fresh air, not smoggy or stuffy like the polluted city air of the Capitol. 
“It is.” You nodded, hand sliding over his biceps, leaning back into his touch. “How’d you ever find this?” 
Coriolanus paused for a moment, heart skipping a beat at the thought of her. He wouldn’t tell you about her, not now, at least, it was your honeymoon. “We used to come out here on our days off.” He said instead. It wasn’t a complete lie, he supposed. 
“Stay in that cabin, sometimes, when it would rain.” Coriolanus pointed to the cabin, a little more worn than he remembered, a lot colder looking too. 
You turned, smiling at the sight. “That’s… This is very nice.” You grinned, head tilting back to meet his gaze. You looked pretty like this, Coryo decided, under the bright District Twelve summer sun. 
“Would you like to go swimming?” Coryo smiled, hand brushing over your hip, squeezing it gently. 
“Swimming?” You giggled. “In what, Coryo? I didn’t pack any swimwear.” 
“Do you think they have swimwear here?” Coriolanus scoffed lightly, shaking his head at you. “Just go in your undergarments.” 
“Coryo.” You blushed, looking around like there might be others to overhear. It was so improper, you were surprised he even suggested it. 
“Or just go without anything on.” Coryo rasped, his crotch grinding lightly into the fat of your ass. Your body jolted with electric heat, grabbing at his arms. “No one’s out here, darling. I won’t mind.” His breath was hot on the shell of your ear, leaving you shivering at the thought. 
Your hands trembled lightly with excitement, pushing down the straps of your dress, gaze on Coriolanus. He grinned proudly as you stripped, your eyes on him so obediently- just as he trained you to be. You were bare, arms covering your most private parts, standing in front of him on the small dock. 
Coriolanus followed, slinging off his slacks, his shirt, grinning at you with that familiar, wild look in his eyes. It made your heart flutter, his gaze animalistic, roaming all over your body. 
“I’m going to throw you in.” Coriolanus growled playfully, though his eyes were primal. 
“Don’t you dare, Coryo.” You pointed at him, walking back on the creaking dock. “Coriolanus Snow, I swear-” 
Coryo lunged at you, laughing at how you shrilled, your scream bouncing off the trees, the mockingjays echoing it through the breeze. Your bare feet padding against the wood, ass jiggling with your run, taunting him. You skidded to a stop at the edge, whipping around to look over your shoulder. Coriolanus pacing towards you, arms reaching out for you, eyes narrowed with a primal sense that had you reaching your arms out in instinct. 
“Coryo, no!” Your squealing pleas were cut short, his hands on your waist, slinging both your naked bodies into the lake water. 
Cool water plunged around you, hands clawing at Coriolanus even under the murky water. You surfaced, a large gasp of a breath, hands hitting the rippling waters with a panicked fury. You could swim, sure, but not very well, especially not when you were thrown in unexpectedly. 
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Coriolanus hummed, hands pulling you into his wet chest, bobbling with you through the water. You crawled up his back, legs wrapping around his waist, hugging him tightly to you. 
He could feel your heart beating on the back of his chest, your pebbled nipples from the cold water pressing to his back, making his cock lurch with lust. 
“Don’t you dare let go of me.” You hissed, nails digging into his shoulder. “There’s no telling what’s in this water. I can’t even see the bottom.” 
“Oh,” Coryo taunted, chin hooking over his shoulder to grin at you. “Might be a monster, hm? Might come up and bite you.” His fingers pinched the fat of your ass, you squealed in his ear, feet pushing up on his hips, dunking him slightly. 
He sputtered, water, feet kicking steadily under the water to keep you both afloat, wiping the droplets out of his eyes. Your pouting face greeted him once his vision cleared, brows creased in a deep furrow. “That wasn’t funny.” You grumbled. 
“Oh, don’t be pouty with me, darling. I was only teasing.” Coriolanus’ hands found your waist, pulling you around his body so you rested on his hips, legs still tight around him in a vice. “You know I wouldn’t let anything hurt you, petal.” He muttered, cupping your jaw gently. 
It was a rare pet name, but by far your most beloved, which is why Coriolanus used it so sparingly. Only when he was especially in love, when he wanted you to know. 
You ducked into his kiss, your own hands on the back of his head, pulling you closer and closer to him. His lips moving on yours, noses brushing, teeth gnashing in a positively sloppy makeout. It felt exhilarating to be doing this in public, showing such crude affection outdoors, even if no one else was around. 
Coriolanus’ hand on your hip, squeezing gently, sliding under the water up your back to cup your breasts under the water. You giggled breathy into his kiss, legs tightening under the water. Coriolanus tipped you into the kiss, dunking you under the water accidentally. 
You sputtered, coughed at the water invading your nose, glaring back at him. He grinned cheekily, squeezing the fat of your left ass cheek firmly under the water. “Maybe this isn’t the best idea.” He hummed. “Far easier in the bathtub, I’m finding out.” 
You blushed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “So what then? On the banks? Like animals?” 
Coriolanus’ eyes left your gaze, darkening at what he saw past you. You could see the change in them, that crossed over to something sinister and dark, it made your stomach flip with thrill, anticipation. 
“No,” Coryo’s eyes met yours, lips curling in a sinister smile. “I have a better idea.” 
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“That’s it, that’s perfect, my love.” Coriolanus grunted, head tipping back into the hardwood of the floors. 
The floorboards squeaked beneath you, with every rise and fall of your hips. Your hair was still damp, as was his, bodies still soft from the water that hadn’t been wiped away. His hands pawed at your breasts, squeezing them with every roll and rise, riding him in the small cabin. 
His mind flooded with memories, memories of before, everytime he looked around. The dark day he didn’t want to remember, a dark time before you. Coriolanus felt guilty, thinking of her while you were on top of him- his wife. So he did what he could to keep his mind from wandering, pawing at your breasts, grabbing at the fat of your ass, but he swore- swore he could hear the mockingjays singing that same song over and over. 
“Wait, just a- hold on, darling girl.” Coriolanus grunted, pressing on your hip to stop you. 
“What?” You panted, chest rising and falling sharply. “What’s wrong?” You muttered, purely lust drunk, your eyes told him so. 
Coryo smiled, cradling your jaw gently, pulling you to him. Your body folded over his, lips on his, kissing him passionately. Coriolanus flipped the two of you, rolling you lightly onto the wooden floor, the floorboards groaning at the shift. His hands cupped under your knees, pressing your thighs forward, letting you hook them over his shoulders while he bottomed out in you, smug at how your eyes rolled back. 
“C-Coryo,” You whimpered at the sudden change of pace, his hips snapping and rolling into you sharply, cock spearing that spongy spot that had your eyes rolling back, mouth falling open dumbly. 
Coriolanus’ pace didn’t stop, fucking you nearly barbarically, at a punishing pace. You hadn’t expected it, truthfully, he normally saved this type of sex for when you’d been bad, when you needed to get fucked like this. Maybe he needed it. Something about District Twelve had him off, but you didn’t pry. 
“Look at me.” Coriolanus growled, hands pushing into your hips, fingertips curling so sharply you knew there would be bruises. 
Your eyes fluttered open, glazed with ecstasy from every punctuating jab of his cock into you. “Who do you belong to?” 
You were confused, mind dwindling away, thoughts following them. Coriolanus tapped your cheek lightly, hard enough to get your attention, eyes snapping obediently back to him. “Answer me.” Coryo repeated through gritted teeth, his pace not letting up, not once. “Who do you belong to?” 
“Y-You.” You shuddered, body rolling with another wave of pleasure, thighs trembling around him. 
“Say it again.” Coriolanus spat, reaching forwards, hand cupping your cheeks, squeezing them between his fingers so your lips puckered. “Who do you belong to?” 
“You, Coryo, you. You- oh!- it’s only you. Only you.” You babbled, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes as your orgasm consumed you. He didn’t stop, squeezing tighter around your cheeks. 
“You’re all mine. Mine. You belong to me, you got that? Not anyone else.” Coriolanus growled, his thrusts faster now, leaving you no time to recover. You whimpered at the sensation, the sensitivity. 
“You’re never leaving me, either. You got that?” Coryo snarled. Your eyes had glazed, looking at the wood ceiling above him, half heartedly pushing at his arm. 
Coriolanus’ hand pulled your chin back to him, stilling suddenly, still deep inside of you. “Look at me.” He sneered. Your eyes fluttered to him. “You’re not leaving me, ever.” He held your gaze, his wild eyed one peering back at you. 
“Say it.” Coryo demanded. You whimpered, his hips pressing further into you, filling you more- you didn’t even know he still could, you felt so full already. “Say it!’ 
The sheer possessiveness, his tone, a chilling edge that had you shuddering. “I-I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered, voice caught around the lump in your throat. “I’m not going anywhere, Coryo, staying with you.” 
“Forever?” Coryo hated how needy he sounded, but he doubted you noticed, not with the way your lip was trembling, eyes glazed. 
“Forever.” You repeated, squeezing his wrist lightly. “Forever with you. Only you.” 
Coriolanus dropped himself over you, face buried in the crook of his neck to breathe in your sweat soaked scent, rutting into you like a mutt in heat until he was spilling, presseed deep inside of you, milking his load into you. 
The walk back to the train was much slower this time. You clung to Coryo, legs wobbly and unsure, his arms wrapped around your back. It was silent, the chirping of the birds, the breeze floating between the leaves, your only sound. 
Coryo left you later that night, tucked into the bed, pressing a kiss to your head. You didn’t pry as to where he was going, and he was grateful for that. You didn’t ask why he smelled of smoke when he came back, why he was just as ravenous as before, which he was even more thankful for. 
As Coriolanus left you, meeting with the General over the Peacekeepers, leading them back through the thicket, he thought of her. Her smug grin, her in his mother’s shawl, how she’d just left it- left him. He thought he’d never recover after Lucy Gray. Then he met you. How you treasured every gift, only looked at him, craved him the way he did you. 
You wore his mother’s ring with pride, and he knew she’d be pleased with you. 
Which is why he had to kill all of his past before you. 
Kill the woman who wrecked him, the girl who took his heart and shredded it, made it jagged for your hold. 
And as the cabin burned, scorched under the starry night sky, Coriolanus was pleased knowing his last memories of the cabin were with you instead of her. 
Knowing that part of him was ash like the wooden cabin was now, soot mixed with the soil of District Twelve. 
Coriolanus returned back to you, holding you as close as he could in his arms, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. You were his, and he was yours. Now until forever.
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daisynik7 · 6 months
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Teach Me, Senpai!
Pairing: Ino x f!reader x Nanami
Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~2.6k
cw: smut - threesome, spit-roast, PIV sex (doggy style), blow job, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, Nanami is sorta a perv oops, Ino calls Nanami senpai, a hint of a breeding kink, use of pet names, everyone is an adult here in case that doesn’t come across clearly
Summary: Takuma Ino is your silly, golden retriever boyfriend who brings you along to meet his mentor, Nanami Kento. You’ve heard a lot about him, mostly because your boyfriend constantly praises him for being so amazing. You underestimate how close their relationship is until Ino starts asking his "senpai" for pointers on how to spice things up in the bedroom. What better way to learn than to demonstrate, right?
Author’s Note: I'm currently in heat, can you blame me? I tried my best to edit and proofread, sorry if there are any glaring grammar mistakes or typos, please ignore! Tagging @todorosie @crazychaoticizzy @gojoloves @brightnessemma @batafuraikisu (I know you didn't ask, but I'm tagging you anyways bc ily and I think you'd like this lol). I'm sorry if I missed any tags, Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciate, thank you for reading! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.
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“You’re going to love him, I swear!” Ino insists, dragging you down the hallway of the office building, past empty cubicles. It’s past five and all the employees are out for the remainder of the day. 
“I just don’t see why I have to meet him,” you argue, following him reluctantly.
“Because he’s important to me! He’s my mentor, my senpai! I have the highest respect for him, and I think it’s cool for you to finally put a face to a name. Aren’t you curious about the guy I’m always talking about?”
“Not really,” you answer, rolling your eyes. Honestly, you’ve grown sick of hearing your boyfriend gush so much about this Nanami fellow. You’re starting to feel jealous about how highly he thinks of this other man. “Why are we even here? This seems like a very random meeting spot.”
“We debrief here sometimes after our missions. He used to be a salary man, so I guess they still let him use the office.” They arrive at a closed door at the end of the hall. Ino knocks twice, a bright smile on his face, a little too excited for this.
A well-built blonde man answers, donning a blue dress shirt and spotted tie. You immediately notice how large his hands are, clenched to the door frame, staring at you from behind steampunk glasses. “Hello.”
“Nanami! Hey! This is my girlfriend, the one I’ve been telling you about.” You introduce yourself to him with a handshake, confirming that they are indeed very big compared to yours. You feel guilty noticing something that can be misconstrued as inappropriate, even lewd in most cases, so you quickly let the thought fade, stepping inside the room. 
It’s a normal looking office, quite barren, except for the few papers stacked on the desk and a map posted on one of the walls. There’s a single chair facing the table, so you take that as Ino stands beside you, arm around your shoulders. “Thanks for letting us stop by. I really wanted to introduce you two to each other.”
Nanami nods curtly, leaning on the edge of the desk in front of you. Your eyes almost drift toward his crotch, curious about his size, but you resist the temptation, ashamed of yourself for even imagining something so completely wrong, especially with your boyfriend right next to you. “You said you wanted to speak to me about something,” he says, focusing on Ino. He removes his glasses, tucking them in his breast pocket.
“Ah, right! Well, I’m a little shy to ask, especially since I haven’t mentioned it to her yet…” Ino scratches his nape nervously, tugging his beanie to cover his reddening ears.
You look at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”
He bites his lip, choosing his words carefully before speaking. “Well, you know how you and I have been…you know, having some trouble in the bedroom?”
At that, you immediately freeze, gaping at him, shocked. A strangled noise comes out of Nanami’s throat, equally jarred.
Ino continues. “I want to get some advice from someone I really trust, like Nanami.” He glances between you, waiting for a response, an uneasy grin on his face. 
You’re stunned, heat surrounding your entire body now, mortified that your boyfriend would casually bring this up without any warning whatsoever. It’s no secret to either of you that your sex life has gotten a bit lackluster recently. Besides missionary and the occasional blowjob, there isn’t much else that you’ve tried in the bedroom. Neither of you are that experienced to begin with, and you both lack the confidence to initiate something different, something new. It’s a matter that you’ve been meaning to resolve privately. Or so you thought. 
No one speaks for what feels like an eternity. You’re tempted to grab your boyfriend and haul ass out of there, hoping this entire conversation can be forgotten or played up to be some kind of cruel, sick joke. However, you remain seated, curiously anticipating Nanami’s response. After all, you haven’t flat-out refused yet, and neither has he. 
Nanami clears his throat. “What kind of advice do you need?” You’re surprised that he’s even entertaining the idea. 
“I just want a few tips on how to spice things up,” Ino answers. “Make it more enjoyable for her.” He puts his arm around you again, squeezing your shoulder. You don’t know whether to punch him or kiss him; the arousal growing between your legs says the latter. The thought of another man who’s practically a stranger instructing your eager boyfriend on how to pleasure you is titillating and definitely something different, something new. You won’t deny it: you’re intrigued. 
Nanami crosses his arms over his chest, avoiding either of your gazes, focused on the floor instead. “I will help, if you both consent to it.”
Ino turns to you with puppy dog eyes. “Babe, you cool with this?”
Too invested now to refuse, you reply, “Sure.”
Your boyfriend lets out a sigh of relief, the tension relaxing in the air surrounding you. “Sweet. Me too.” He looks at Nanami, a bright smile on his face now, clearly thrilled about this. “What’s first, senpai?”
Nanami clears his throat again, standing up straight, taking a step towards you. “Well, foreplay is always a good place to start.”
Ino sticks his finger up. “Right! Foreplay. Uh, do you have a pen and paper so I can take notes…?”
“You don’t seriously need to take notes on foreplay, do you?” he snaps. “It’s as simple as kissing and touching on all the right spots.”
“What spots are those?” 
“It’s probably better if you ask her.” Nanami points to you, making direct eye contact. “Where do you like to be touched?”
You swallow hard, timid from being put on the spot like this. “Just the normal places.”
“The two of you have to communicate better if this is ever going to work out,” he says, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Show him.”
Committing to this fully now, you stand up, grab Ino’s hand and brush it against your lips. “I like it when you kiss me. And when you touch my lips.” 
He smiles at you. “That’s good.”
“You can also put your fingers in my mouth every once in a while. If you want,” you suggest, licking the tip of his middle finger. 
He smirks. “Yeah. I definitely want that, too.”
“Sometimes, it’s better to learn by doing it,” Nanami interjects, watching the two of you carefully. 
You gaze at Ino’s lips, then into his eyes, nodding. He leans in, kissing you slowly. He’s always been a good kisser, a great one, actually. The problem is that he’s too gentle with you. 
“Kiss her neck,” Nanami orders, arms at his sides now, hands clenched into tight fists. 
Ino follows, trailing down your chin until he’s at your neck, sucking on your skin. 
“Put your fingers in her mouth. She said she likes that, right?”
Ino hums, tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb before pushing it in. You surround him, using your grip to pump him in and out of you. His other hand drifts to your waist, teasing the elastic of your pants.
“Are you getting wet, sweetheart?” Nanami’s voice is low and sultry; the use of the pet name has you unraveling much quicker than you expect. Without thinking, you breathe out, “Yes,” pushing his fingers deeper down your throat. 
“Fuck, baby,” Ino moans, hot on your ear. “Where else do you want to be touched?”
You pull him out, swallowing your thick saliva, placing his hand between your legs. “Touch me here.”
Ino, eyes glossy with lust, slowly shimmies your pants down your legs, revealing your soaked panties. “Oh shit, you really are wet, fuck.”
“Eat her out,” Nanami demands. There’s a desperate gruffness in his voice that’s undeniable now, and one glance is all it takes for you to realize that he’s hard, an impressive bulge strained in his slacks. He shoves all his belongings off the desk, making room for you. “Here. Do it here.”
Ino curses under his breath, cock stiff in his sweats, leading you to the table, where you sit at the edge, spreading your thighs open for him. He slips your panties off, licking his lips before diving into your arousal, tongue pressed firmly on your clit. “Fuck,” you moan, squirming from the sensation. 
Nanami walks to the other side, near your head, staring at Ino’s face buried in your pussy. Instinctually, you reach for him, pulling him by the belt, tongue hanging out. His eyes flit to yours, surprised when you say, “Touch me, senpai.”
Ino moans into you, clearly turned on by it. Obliging, Nanami hoists your shirt off, leaving you in just your bra, which he hastily unhooks to bare your chest. Bending towards you, he wraps his lips around one breast, suckling at your teat, his hand working the other nipple, pinched between his fingers. You’re close to your climax; you just need a little bit more. As if he can read your mind, Nanami releases you with a pop, saying, “Suck on her clit until she comes. Fuck her with your fingers at the same time.” His sudden vulgarity spurs you on, grinding your hips against your boyfriend’s face, pulling Nanami back to your tits.
Ino muffles, puckering his lips around you, sliding his middle finger inside you. You throw your head back on the desk, ecstasy rippling through your entire being, knees shaking with sensitivity. 
“Yeah, she likes that,” Nanami purrs, flicking his tongue on your peaked nipples. “Put another in. One at a time, until she’s full.��
Ino manages to fit three of his digits inside you before you orgasm with him latched to your swelling bud, coating him in your slick. He doesn’t stop licking until you’ve come down from your high, pushing his head away, overstimulated. Nanami removes himself from you, unbuckling his belt, watching intently as your boyfriend slips his wet fingers inside your mouth. “Taste yourself babe. You’re so fucking good.” You slurp your own juices off him, pussy throbbing, aching to be fucked. 
“You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” Nanami murmurs, shimmying out of his pants, erection protruding from his briefs. He palms it, rubbing his thumb over the wet spot oozing from the tip. “Ino, tease her a little bit.”
“Yes sir,” he salutes, pulling down his bottoms, cock sprung against the hem of his sweater. He taps the tip of his dick on your puffy bud, smiling wide as you writhe for him. “Damn, baby. I’ve never seen you this wet before.”
“It’s a good thing you came to me then, isn’t it?” Nanami mentions, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “Now turn around for us, princess. It’s going to feel so much better for you like this.”
You obey, readjusting your body to bend over the desk, ass pushed towards Ino, desperate to be used by them both. Your boyfriend positions his cock at your entrance, huffing, “You ready, baby?”
“Yeah. Fuck me, Ino,” you moan. “Fuck me hard.”
He glides in slowly, stretching you out little by little, easing into you. Once he’s all the way in, groin pressed to your ass, he starts thrusting at a steady pace. It increases gradually until he’s pounding away at you, hitting that sweet spot over and over until your eyes glaze over, in a total state of bliss. 
Nanami studies you, enjoying the show until he notices you staring at the bulge in his briefs, tongue lolling, practically begging for him. He smirks at you. “You want all your holes stuffed, don’t you, sweetheart?”
You nod, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth, eyes weepy, peering up at him. How could he resist such a cock hungry slut like you? Especially when you look at him like this? 
“I’m going to give you my cock then. Think you can take it?” he asks, shoving his underwear off, cock flopping against his abdomen. 
“Oh yeah, she can fucking take it,” Ino grunts, hands gripped to your hips, still fucking you with fervor. “Right babe?” He delivers a fresh slap to your ass, which echoes off the walls of the office. 
“Yeah, I can take it,” you mumble, gulping down the spit collecting on your tongue. 
Nanami hums, satisfied with your answer, inching his dick closer to your mouth. “Open up for me, sweetheart.”
You do, swallowing him until he bottoms out to the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex. He stays still, staring at you, relishing this lewd sight. “Ino, your girlfriend looks so pretty with my cock in her mouth. Don’t you agree?”
“Fuck, yeah. So fucking hot how she just takes it. She’s a good girl, always has been,” he says from behind you, spreading your cheeks open to watch himself disappear into your pussy with each thrust. 
“You’re a lucky man,” Nanami mutters, tipping your chin up, gazing into your eyes. “And you’re a lucky girl, aren’t you? Getting fucked by your boyfriend and his senpai.” Nanami begins to move, pumping himself in and out of your hungry mouth, your tongue running along the underside of his dick. 
Ino shrugs his beanie off, running his fingers through his hair, damp with perspiration. “Oh fuck, baby, you’re taking us so fucking good.”
“Like a proper slut,” Nanami adds, tracing the outline of your lips, glossy with spit, stretched around his shaft. “Do you suck his cock as good as you suck mine?” 
You nod, swallowing your gag reflex as the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat with each solid thrust of his hips. Your second orgasm approaches quickly, your pussy clenching Ino’s cock, though you can’t say anything while gobbling up Nanami’s cock, so you let it be, continuing to be spit-roasted over the desk, thirsty for their cum.  
“Fuck, I’m going to come soon,” Ino says, slowing his pace. “I’ve never…I’ve never come inside her before.”
Nanami, still relishing his blow job, asks, “Why not?”
“Too scared to get her pregnant,” he admits. It’s true; Ino always pulls out, even when you beg him to finish inside you. You appreciate that about him, but in this moment, you want nothing more than his cream pie filling you up. 
“Is she on birth control?”
“Y-Yeah.”
Once again, as if psychic, Nanami responds, “Then I’m sure she wouldn’t mind getting your load just this once. Right, sweetheart?”
Your words are muffled. Nanami pulls out, cock wet with your spit, stroking it in his fist. “What was that, princess?”
“I said yes! Give it to me, Ino!” you whine, shaking around him. 
“Fuck, are you sure, baby? You sure you want it?”
“Give it to me. Want you to breed me,” you blurt out. 
“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Nanami coos, slapping the head of his cock on your tongue. “How about here? You want it here too?”
You glance at Ino, who’s watching. He nods, licking his lips. “Yes. Want your cum inside me, senpai,” you reply. 
He smirks, pushing himself back inside you, his length sliding on every inch of your tongue. “Good girl.”
It doesn’t take long for both men to come, Ino shooting his seed deep into your womb, stuffing you full, Nanami spurting ribbons into your mouth, guzzling down each drop. They pull out slowly, cocks sensitive now from the stimulation. You roll over onto your back, catching your breath, looking up at them with a satisfied smile on your face. 
Nanami cups your cheek in his hand, thumb brushing delicately against your skin. “Such a messy girl. I think she needs a few more lessons. What do you think, Ino?”
Your boyfriend’s eyes are blown wide, staring at the lewd sight before him, your pussy leaking with his cum, your mouth drooling with Nanami’s. “Yeah. Definitely needs more, senpai.”
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barefoothighlander · 11 months
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call me little sunshine
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-summary: you come home for summer break to find a new man has moved in next door, he’s charming and mysterious so you welcome him to the neighbourhood
-simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader
-warnings: mdni 18+, dark themes, slight stalker!ghost, dub con, corruption, masturbation (fem), unprotected p-in-v, fingering, creampie, dumbification kinda, size kink, dom!ghost, orgasm denial, ghost has a filthy mouth, spit play if you squint, loss of virginity, oral (fem rec), mention of alcohol, mention of scars, age gap (reader is in 20s, ghost is in 30s)
next part masterlist
a/n: this is pure smut with plot and I regret nothing, this fic contains dark themes so please be advised, also not proofread.
The air was thick, its humidity almost choking you as the sound of thick waves lapping on the beach overtook your hearing, the hot June sun welcoming you as you stepped out onto the porch. You loved being home, even if it was only for a few months, you missed the simplicity of being there, no coursework to worry about, no job weighing on your mind just cold lemonade and swimming in the ocean.
As you situate yourself on your porch, book in hand your eye is caught by the sight of a large broody man moving boxes next door, your dad hadn’t told you that anyone new was moving in, you didn’t even know the previous owners had left, shame, you really liked them, you shake him from your mind and return to your book, settling in against the soft seat cushion.
You read for a while before feeling yourself grow thirsty, moving to the kitchen of the house to find something to drink, as you look out the window above the sink you see him again, only this time he’s not wearing a shirt, it’s tucked into the band of his jeans, every sweat covered muscle gleaming in the sunlight. Your eyes linger on his form before he catches you, stopping what he was doing and giving you a polite smile, you feel your cheeks blush as you return the sentiment with a shy wave, moving out of view to set your back against the wall.  Your skin was hot, you figured it had to be from the weather outside deciding to change into something a little more comfortable for the weather, returning outside in a short white dress, patterned with small bumble bees, it sat low on your chest with thin straps that tied into little knots, perfect for the warm weather.
You glance over toward your car, noticing it could use a little cleaning, grabbing a few rags and making your way over, you lean over the hood, dousing the mental in soapy water, moving around, scrubbing different spots, you stand up, legs drenched in water as you hose down the vehicle.
“You’ll have to clean mine sometime” you hear from behind you, turning your head to see him, he’s practically glowing, you have to raise a hand to the sun just to look at him, he’s close, close enough that you can make out every groove of muscle, every scar that littered his toned form, the only thing you can’t make out is the dark ink that decorated his forearm.
“My truck is pretty dirty” he says breaking your trance.
“Oh,” you laugh
“Guess that happens during a move” He gestures toward a large stack of boxes.
You stifle a laugh, “Yeah doesn’t look great”
He smiles, it’s bright and genuine, “I’m Simon” extending a large hand toward you, you smile raising your hands to show the dirty water on them as he laughs, grabbing yours, enveloping it, lightly running a thumb over the skin, the simple contact making you swallow a lump in your throat.
“Right well, I should probably go shower”
He releases your hands, looking at the wetness on his palm that had transferred, watching your dress blow slightly in the wind, threatening to give him a peek at your ass, taunting him, he clicks his tongue before returning to his own work.
The shower does little to soothe you, a growing sensation in your lower stomach as you enter your room, towel-clad body moving around to pick out comfy clothes, it was nearing nightfall, the sound of cicadas echoing outside your open window, remnants of the sunset bathing your bedroom in a warm glow, you huff a breath to yourself, resting on your bed, hips wiggling a bit trying to ease the gentle thrum between your legs, you try to distract yourself with a book but with every turn of the page you find your mind wandering to him, his broad form glowing in the sun, the gleam of his smile, his dark eyes that stared into your soul. Putting your book to the side you gently move your fingers down your body, ghosting over the hem of your panties, teasing ever so slightly before dipping below the band, gentle fingers circling over your clit. You elicit a quiet moan, not used to the sensation, you continue circling as your jaw falls slack, free hand coming to cup at your breast under your shirt, you quicken your pace, back arching off the bed as whispers of moans fall from your open lips, images of your neighbour flashing before your eyes, you imagine his fingers, rough, roaming over your skin, teasing over your sensitive bud as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten, you grip the sheets as your orgasm washes over you, whimpers of his name falling from your tongue. You lay in your bed breathless, turning over in your bed as sleep takes over your mind.
You woke early the next morning, your skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as the heat creeps in through your window, you rub your eyes and move to get dressed, you had to go into town and it was hot again today, you settled on a simple skirt and tank top, something that would let your skin breath as you packed your bag, bidding your Dad a good morning before getting into your car. Your errands took longer than expected, a harsh rain setting over the terrain as you pulled into your driveway, you catch a glimpse of Simon on his porch, a glass of whiskey in hand as he watched the rain fall, offering him a small smile before making your way to the door, digging through your bag to find your keys, panic setting in when you realized they were nowhere to be seen, you peer through the window, willing someone inside to appear and let you in, out of the pouring rain, but no one’s there. Defeated you turn your back against the wall, huffing a breath.
“Locked out?” you hear him call, standing in the safety of his covered entrance.
“Yeah, forgot my keys inside”
“Did you want to wait inside mine?” he offers
You think for a minute, “No that’s alright, I can handle a little rain” you laugh
“You’re gonna catch a cold” he states plainly
You mull it over in your mind, you really didn’t want to be standing in the rain, you nod and make your way over to him, you miss the way his eyes linger on your form, your clothes soaked, clinging to your skin, allowing him the perfect view of your breasts and ass.
“Here come inside”
The two of you step inside, you look around the room, it’s not heavily decorated but small trinkets litter the shelves, a couple plaques hung around the room.
“Wait here, I’ll get you some dry clothes”
You remain still in your spot, and he returns with a small stack of clothes.
“Bathrooms over there doll”
You smile before making your way, his eyes glued to your curves, watching the way your hips move as you walk away. You close the door, stripping your clothes before throwing on the ones he had given you, no doubt belonging to him considering the way they hung loosely on your body, your hair was drenched but there was nothing you could do about it. You return to him standing at the bar,
“Give me those” he says hand extending to the mess of wet clothes in your hand, taking them from you to throw them in the dryer.
“You can sit if you’d like” he points toward the couch across the room,
Smiling at him before making your way over, he follows, propping himself right next to you, you can feel the heat emanating from his body as he reaches an arm to rest behind your head.
“So you just moved in?” you try to make conversation
He takes a swig of his drink turning to face you, “About a week ago, it’s a nice spot”
You nod, “I grew up here, parents moved when I was 4”
“Mmm I didn’t see you when I moved in”
“I just got back from school, summer break”
“Ah, university?” he asks, innocently enough
“Yea, I’m studying history”
“Interesting stuff”
You nod in response,
“I’ve got some old books upstairs, unpublished works from people who’s names I can’t pronounce”
“Where’d you find them?” slight smile creeping onto your face
“Can’t remember, wanna check them out?”
You nod as he guides you up the stairs, leading you into a small study, a sizeable bookshelf sits in the corner, beside a large grey safe.
“What’s in the safe” you turn to face him, he’s leaning against the doorway pinning you under his stare.
“Nothing you need to worry about doll”
You blush at the nickname, he moves across the room picking out an old leather bound book and handing it to you, his fingers ghosting over yours, the contact sends chills up your spine.
“I haven’t read this one” you say shyly
“Well it’s yours anytime you want it” he says, fingers roaming up your bare arms, your eyes are locked on his, body frozen from the contact.
“Can I ask you a question?” he says, leaning down to place his lips next to your ear, his English accent suddenly thicker, his words drenched in honey, you nod, unable to think of words. “Do you like teasing me”, you quirk your eyebrow,
“Huh?”
He smiles against your neck, his hot breath making your hairs stand on end,
“The tiny dresses, the practically see through tops, bending over right in front of me”
You’re confused, “I don’t know what you’re talking about." He bites at your neck causing a small moan to fall from your lips,
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about love”
You shake your head, “No I swear-” your words cut short at the feeling of his palms roaming under your loose top, coming to rest under the curve of your breasts, your breath hitches as you feel the pad of his thumb come to swipe over your hard nipple.
“Think you can get away with it hmm, making me hard, serving yourself up on a platter for me”
Your eyes flick to his, “I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to”
He shushes you, his hands moving down to grab at the meat of your ass as he presses his body into you, the firm contact of his length pressing against your thigh making you drop the book in your hands.
“S’alright doll, I’ll give you what you need”
You clench your eyes as you feel his hand cup your sex,
“Tsk, no panties, and you tell me you aren’t teasing”
“Th- they were wet”
“Mm so are you” He strokes two fingers through your slit, grazing your clit, forcing your head to fall forward against his shoulder as your hands grip his shirt. He teases over your clit, as you try to grind yourself onto his palm, desperate for contact.
“Needy girl” he whispers, kissing at your pulse point, he slides a finger into you, groaning at the way you clench him.
“Fuck you’re tight, gonna have to work you open for me huh” He grins a sadistic grin, peering at your scrunched face. He continues fucking you with one finger, his rough palm colliding with your clit, creating the perfect mixture of contact that has you teetering on the edge. As you’re about to tip off the edge he removes his hand, earning a whine from you, whimpering at the loss of contact, the heat still burning in your lower stomach.
“Stand up for me pretty girl”
You do as he says, feeling his arms grip under your knees, easily lifting you from the ground to plant you on the desk, kissing at your collarbone as he finds the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. The cool air grazes your skin as goosebumps begin to form, you watch him with doe eyes as he sinks down, lips latching onto your nipple, his hand coming to toy with the other, he sucks your nipple in, biting it lightly earning a gasp from you as he moves to give the same treatment to the other. He sucks at the valley of your breasts as he moves to take off your pants, urging you to lift up a little so he can slide them off, he moves back, hands spreading your legs as he’s looking at your dripping pussy.
“Such a perfect little cunt” he says, placing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs before licking a stripe through your folds, stopping at the top to tease over your sensitive bud, you instinctively clamp your legs, he grips your thighs, spreading your legs wide allowing him to kneel directly in front of you, the sensation is too much, you’re a mess of moans and whimpers, that familiar heat boiling in your stomach as you clench around nothing, he studies your movements, detaching himself at the last second to bring you slowly back from the edge, you try to grab his head to move him back but he stands firm.
“You’ll cum when I want you to”
You whimper,
“Tell me what you want baby”
You force the words from your throat, "I want to cum”
“Use your manners”
“Please, let me cum”
He smirks, fingers pinching at your nipples, bringing his fingers back to your leaking hole, you moan at the stretch, he pumps slowly, easing you into it as he watches your face contort with pleasure before latching his lips back to your clit. He pumps his fingers into you quicker, your moans growing louder, he bites lightly at your bud at you elicit a yelp, replacing his fingers with his tongue, his thumb circling over your clit, you’re so close you could scream.
“Come on baby, cum on my tongue, taste so good” His praise dries you forward, your hands gripping his hair as your back arches, your orgasm taking over your body, a blinding white light obstructing your view as your moans fall from your open mouth.
“Good girl,” he says, moving up to kiss you harshly, “taste that baby? so sweet”
Your breath is heavy, your mind clouded from your orgasm, you feel weightless as he picks you up, laying you back against the desk.
“Wait” you manage, “I’ve never”, his smirks grows
“Aw baby, are you a virgin”
You nod sheepishly, his mind floods with a million ideas, but right now, he has to feel you. He climbs over your body stripping himself of his clothes, your eyes come into contact with his hard length, widening at the sight.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle” he coos, tip teasing at your folds, he grabs your knees, spreading you wide forcing your body against the mattress as he holds you under his weight, even if you wanted to fight back you couldn’t, body weak from his touch. He pushes in slowly, just the tip at first, watching as your eyes squeeze shut.
“Look at me, wanna watch you as my cock splits you open”
You follow his command, scared of what might happen if you didn’t, as he pushes in further, the stretch of him practically tearing you in half,
“Fuck baby not even half way and you’re squeezin me so tight”
You moan at his words as he continues to press into you inch by inch before bottoming out,
“That’s it baby, just relax”
His thrusts are shallow and slow, easing you into it as your hands cling to his shoulders, he pushes in deep as your back arches, your clit grazing against his pubic hair. He places a firm hand on your lower stomach,
“Fuck, you see that doll” You glance down at where your bodies meet, “Can practically see myself inside you”
Your body fights against the intrusion, the pain of him pressing against your cervix, you’re writhing under him but he leans down to cage you against the bed as he starts fucking into you faster. You’re breathless, careless moans slip from your mouth.
“You feel so good, don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop myself”
You moan in response and he laughs, “Only had my cock for a minute and already can’t talk, you cockdrunk baby,” he says, hand grabbing at your jaw to hold it open before leaning up to spit in your mouth, 
“Swallow it” he orders, and you do, the remnants of his whiskey linger, burning your throat as he continues fucking you at a relentless pace, your muscles are weak as he moves back, gripping your thighs tight to your chest, holding you down with his weight.
“I’m gonna fill this little pussy, let everyone know you’re mine” he grunts
You shake your head, trying to tell him no but it comes out as mumbles,
“Shit I’m sorry love, just feels too good”
You claw at him but he persists, long strokes filling you as his balls slap against the skin of your ass,
“Squeezin me so tight, m’gonna cum”
Your attempts at refusal are useless as his balls tighten, pressing himself deep into you as the warm sensation floods your abused hole, fucking into you a few more times making sure you got every last drop before pulling out, he steps back to examine his work, pressing a finger into you,
“Gotta make sure it all stays in”
You groan at the intrusion, the contact making you twitch slightly, he moves beside you placing a kiss on your head,
“Did so well angel”
Your body is jello, limbs exhausted as he holds you tight to him, moving you to the bed across the hall. You don’t know when you fell asleep but you wake up and he’s gone, the remnants of his spend leaking from your sensitive cunt, as you try to get up, noticing the pile of clothes set next to the bed, you dress carefully, trying to maintain your balance and making your way down the stairs, noticing his broad form sat on one of the porch chairs, you creep your way to him, standing by his side.
“Better get home pretty girl, Daddy’s back,” he says nodding towards your father's car in the driveway, your throat is dry, as you walk back to your home, you feel his eyes glued to you, you feel like his prey. You step inside and are greeted by your parents asking about your day, your mind freezes,
“Are you alright honey?”
You take a minute, “Yeah just, super tired I guess, I’m gonna head upstairs” sparing them a smile before making your way to your room, you step into the shower trying to wash everything off you, the warm water soothes your body before you step out, looking at your form in the mirror, noticing a deep purple mark between your breasts, running a light hand over it. You change into pyjamas and settle into bed, your mind is tired, your body is tired, you toss and turn trying to get comfortable, cringing at the feeling of Simon's seed still spilling from you, you turn over in your bed, clenching your eyes shut hoping you were simply imagining him as once again sleep takes over your body.
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lheebra · 3 months
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𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑.
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ALTERNATIVELY … ENHYPEN’S WAY TO SHOW YOU LOVE (hyung’s line version)
find maknae line’s version here.
✰ PAIRING. bf!enha hyung line x gn!reader.
✰ GENRE. fluff!!
✰ TW. mentions of food. mentions of kissing.
dani’s podcast🎙️: if you’ve read this in the past?? no u didn’t (gaslighting u rn,,) anyways!! enjoy this one^_^ // likes are v appreciated but comments and reblogs with comments are more appreciated! i’d love to hear ur thoughts on this one🤍
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𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆. has thousand playlists with your name as the title because every love song he hears reminds him of you. slow dancing in the middle of the night as he hums to the soft melody playing in the background. kisses all over your face. teaches you how to play his favorite games and always lets you win because he loves the way your pretty smile lights up your face. gentle and warm hugs. has a pic of you as his lockscreen. always tucks your hair behind your ear. always swings your intertwined fingers while walking. deep and long conversations while laying beside each other at night on your shared bed. always so enthusiastic about spending time with you. a lot of inside jokes. always sharing his food with you. lets you sit on his lap whenever he’s busy with his computer, one hand busy on the mouse while the other draws patterns on your back. karaoke battles with the both of you singing your heart out and laughing loudly when someone sings off-key. flirts with you with dumb pick-up lines just to hear your melodious laugh. loves when you baby him. he feels so infatuated by you so his lips linger a little bit more on yours with a small smile, before he whispers his “i love you’s” to you. "i know i’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please."
𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆. always ties the laces of your sneakers for you because he doesn’t want you to fall. nights of baking pastries together while playing around and throwing the flour to each other. purchases random souvenirs and expensive gifts because he says “it reminded him of you.” gives you heartfelt hand-written letters. stargazing together but he’s only staring at you because you’re the prettiest star for him. loves snuggling with you. his eyes fly automatically to you whenever he says a joke just to see if you found it funny. spending quiet afternoons reading together. wants to try a lot of stuff with you so he’s always taking you out on dates to different places. has a printed picture of the both of you on the back of his clear phone case. cooks breakfast for you and leaves a small kiss on the crown of your bedhead when you sit on the kitchen table. always paying attention to what you like, so he can get it for you later. knows your coffee order by heart. always so willing to help you. fixes your jewelry or clothes if he sees them out of place. tries to bite back a love-sick smile and fails miserably every time he hears you calling him “love” or “baby.” always kissing you good morning and good night. holds you tightly to his chest every night you go to sleep because you’re his entire world. “i hope you know by now how much you mean to me.”
𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍. lets you borrow his plaid shirts because he loves how his clothes look on you. butterfly kisses. sending each other cute dog pics you see on the street whenever one of you is away. writes song lyrics about the way you make him feel. loves taking candid pictures of you because for him you’re the prettiest when you’re caught by surprise. looks at you with so much tenderness and love in his eyes that he makes you love yourself a tad bit more. always kisses the back of your hand. having a shared playlist and adding songs that reminds you of your relationship. a lot of skinship, him always finding a way to being close to you whether is grabbing your hand to put it on his thigh or encircling your waist with his arms. will laugh with you about the stupidest of things. calls you can’t help but blush faintly whenever you leave a longer kiss on his lips. always runs excitedly to you when he sees you entering a room. has thousand polaroid photos because he wants to make an album for you. talks about you to other people with stars on his eyes and a love-sick smile adorning his features. is careful with you all the time. tickle fights. his voice never falters whenever he’s processing his undying love for you. “everything about you is so beautiful to me.”
𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍. leaving quirky love-notes for each other around in your shared apartment. undivided attention from his part, always carefully listening to whatever you’re saying to him. forehead kisses. lets you fall asleep on his arms even if he sometimes get tired of the way he’s laying. always answers your texts quickly. lingering stares and shy hand holding. tries his best to beat his shyness so he can voice out how much he adores you from time to time. loves seeing you smile because it makes him a little more happy that he’s alive and that he’s sharing his time with you. always being soft-spoken with you. teases you about you “being obsessed with him” yet the both of you know that he’s the one obsessed with you. his heart can’t help but beat a little bit faster whenever you introduce him as your boyfriend. looks straight into your eyes before he leans for a heart-fluttering kiss. a little bit overprotective, so he always makes sure you feel comfortable whenever the both of you are out. sighing in content when you play with his hair while he lays comfortably on your lap. loud laughs whenever it’s only the two of you. teases you in a light-hearted manner and pulls you for a hug when he sees you start pouting. has a reserved smile he only uses with you, one that needs no words and that never fails to lets you know about how badly in love he’s with you. “ah y/n, you’re kinda cute… only kinda.”
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permanent taglist: @taejays
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motherofagony · 4 months
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FIRE WALK - one shot
joel miller x f!reader
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pairing: au, no outbreak!joel x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni word count: 6.5k summary: a chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt. content warnings + tags: age gap (we'll say 15-20 years), very brief references to past non-con encounters (not with joel, no details just shitty men in general), soft!joel, alcohol, mentions of family trauma and ab*se, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (f + m receiving), A Scene With a Belt™, slight mentions of reader's clothing but no physical descriptions otherwise, love as consumption and women as fruit a/n: this was a brain-worm of a one shot, so i had to press pause on AHFE and get it out. consider it a dirty love letter to strangers with stories in shitty motels. and i have to give the biggest thank-you to @iamskyereads for stepping in and offering to be my beta reader in the final hour. she was so unbelievably thorough and thoughtful and kind. i owe you big.
New-age boogeymen hang two-way mirrors and jiggle motel door handles with broken hangers.
That’s what the news says.
August licks an unforgiving line of heat up your back, and cutoff denim and halter tops do nothing but give the sun more skin to burn. 
It’s sweltering, brutal as an Arizona summer is, and The Palms Motel promises a pool and a mini bar on their dirty marquee. You’ll take what you can get, can’t really afford to be picky with fifty dollars in your pocket, but at least maybe you’ll live like royalty tonight.
Some guy you met — Tom, Tim, Jim, whoever — pulls his convertible up to the front office. Your knees knock together over the speed bump, cartilage kissing bone.
It’s the closest you’ve ever come close to a chauffeur, but the chauffeur you see in movies doesn’t usually take liberties with trying to work his grease-speckled mechanic hand up the passenger’s shirt.
You met him at a gas station in Tucson, thumbing your way from northern Texas to put as much distance between you and your whiskey-breathed dad as you could. He’d torn your clothes apart at the seams with his eyes when he spotted you in the parking lot, swimming in blood-infested waters with sharp, sharp teeth.
There was no plan, no directions penned and cities circled on a folded map, just glass in your hair and a final straw.
He asked if you could buy him some booze — revoked license, baby, y’know how that goes — and you shouldn’t have, but when he flashed a leather wallet thick with cash, you knew you’d be stupid not to.
You hid behind a shelf inside the gas station while he idled in the parking lot and plucked a fifty from the wad, stuffing it deep in your bag. You grabbed some shitty malt-something from a fridge along with a 6-pack, flashing the slack-jawed cashier a wink. 
He didn’t try to hide the eye contact with your tits, but neither do most men. Sometimes you milk it in your favor, sometimes it just makes your lunch rise to the back of your throat.
And when you’re by yourself, it’s hot iron, ready to strike. A doe in their headlights, a buck with a nice rack. Skipping through the center of their bullseye.
You bought a little palm-sized bottle for yourself and tucked it safely next to the stolen cash in the abyss of your purse. These tiny cons got you by, made power surge deep in your belly. It made loneliness feel worth it, knowing you had an upper hand to lean on if you were ever in a bind.
He bitched about inflation when you came out with less than was reasonable for the amount you spent, and you just shrugged. Not your cash, not your problem. 
You bartered for a ride to the nearest motel, and now Tom-Tim-Jim is asking you over the purr of the engine if you need company for the night.
If you were feeling a little more you, you might’ve taken him up on it. Maybe he would’ve even paid for the room, maybe he wouldn’t get angry like your dad does. Maybe he’d be able to fuck you without hitting you.
You’re good at diffusing the temper in most men, can touch them in ways that make them grit their teeth, can be a good girl and go fetch.
But you’re not in the mood to bend, to give someone’s son — someone’s husband with a tan line around their ring finger — a place to wipe their shoes on. You don’t feel like wiping their dirt, your mascara from your eyes and saying thank you while they zip up their pants.
And you sure as fuck don’t fancy being on a milk carton.
“I’m alright, sugar. Thanks for the ride,” you say, dipping your chin to peer over your sunglasses. “I know where to find you, don’t worry.”
Yeah fuckin’ right.
He doesn’t try to conceal his disappointment, just sucks his teeth and squeezes at the exposed skin of your thigh. His way of saying goodbye to something he could’ve dripped sweat on, came in too early. You think your flesh might rot off in chunks. 
You open the door and swing your legs out in a way that’s a little too eager.
Tom-Tim-Jim waves solemnly with two fingers up and two bent, and then he’s gone in an aggressive rev.
The motel might’ve been a kitschy dream in its heyday. It’s not a total dump; more of a vintage skeleton of washed-out pink and umbrellas that’ve been ripped by weather and overuse. There are a million faded emblems of cartoonish palm trees. It’s almost endearing how tragic it is.
You can tell that it was popular and swarming with tourists at one time — there are dusty, water-stained pamphlets lining the wall next to the front desk that brag Named one of Arizona’s top destinations in 1996!
A mounted fan whirs and oscillates, but it might as well be someone blowing hot breath down your neck. 
There’s a tired woman holding down the fort at the desk with a name tag that claims Brenda, and she looks surprised to see you. You figure most customers are stopping in for a night’s rest on the way to somewhere more important, their final destination. But you don’t look like you have anywhere better to be.
“Hey, honey,” Brenda trickles, laced with an accent that’s more New Orleans than Arizona. “Need a room?”
“Yeah, just for the night,” you say, fishing out your wallet with confidence that doesn’t meet your eyes. “How much?”
“Forty-five a night, ‘less you wanna upgrade to the honeymoon suite.” She looks somewhere over your shoulder.
That’s nearly everything you have, but it sounds a lot like tomorrow’s problem. At least you’ll be safe tonight from the prowling stares of nighttime predators, and the leftover change will give you a decent vending machine dinner.
“Just a normal room’s fine,” you smile, sliding over the crumpled, stolen fifty.
Brenda types busily on the keyboard, asking for your name but nothing else. And when she hands you a plastic keycard, you finally relax your shoulders. Untangle the nerves in your lower back that are choking one another.
Room 17, it reads. Your oasis awaits!
You thank her, spin on your heel, and immediately bump chest to chest with something hard.
You’re eye level with a worn, cornflower blue t-shirt, ringed with a light stain of sweat at the collar. They’re grasping both of your arms to steady you, and you’re snagging the gaze of a tousled man with a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Watch where you’re goin’,” he murmurs, but it isn’t reprimanding or mean like you’re used to, just sickly sweet and Texan. Syrupy in a way that drips right down between your legs.
You don’t remember seeing anyone else in the lot when you’d pulled up. And the stealth of him entering soundlessly behind you sends a jolt of electricity up your spine, the clench of something that would be fear if it were any other stranger.
But he doesn’t look at you with intent to devour or to claim. Just eyes you like you’re anyone else. An equal. The bare minimum, but rare and shiny nonetheless.
“Sorry,” you breathe, and he’s releasing you a little too quickly for your liking. Leaving brands on the creases of where your forearms meet upper and elbow.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
So you don’t.
You brush past him on the way out, a polite nod. And that’s that. 
The heat is the kind that feels hotter, unbearable when paired with the shrill sing of cicadas. An endless buzzing that you think might be the sun sizzling on the concrete. If you stood in one place for too long, your flip flops might very well melt you in place.
Your room key clicks to unlock Room 17, and you push the door open to a heavy, humid space that smells vaguely of mold. You’re so grateful for the privacy that you can’t even bring yourself to wrinkle your nose.
Flip flops discarded, your toes sink into shag carpet — a dirty luxury that makes you moan. It’s only been two days since you left home, fled home, but it beats sleeping with one eye open on a bus stop bench.
You up-end your leather bag, dumping all of its contents onto the bed. Cigarettes, some loose film canisters, your toothbrush, a lighter. There wasn’t much time to pack, nothing worth bringing, and the less, the better. Nothing to weigh you down if you had to dip at a moment’s notice.
It takes you only a couple minutes and a light sheen of sweat to realize that the A/C is busted. Smothered, you try to crack open a window in the bathroom, but it’s no cooler than the hell you’re standing in.
When you let Brenda know, she just shrugs with an apologetic kind of half-smile.
“Most of ‘em are out these days, honey,” she says, and you decide then that it’s a small price to pay. “We got someone comin’ to look at it next week.”
You shoot her a smile, figure that she’s had enough rotten backtalk in her day. You scoop a set of flamingo-themed matches from the bowl on the counter and turn around, only to see a familiar blue shirt waiting his turn.
His eyes try not to roam, but he’s giving you a nod and stepping up without hesitation, asking Brenda for extra towels.
The way that she titters and blushes, you’d think he’d asked if he could spit in her mouth.
It irritates you, and you can’t say why.
The door chimes behind you as it closes, and you linger, striking a match and lighting a cigarette. When he emerges, a stack of towels so high it’s hitting his chin, you step in stride on the walk back. Tracing his footsteps, catching up with his shadow.
“You followin’ me?” you quip, a cigarette dangling from your mouth. The cherry ignites on every breath, smoke erupting in tendrils that hug each word.
He answers with a laugh, turns and squints back at you with one eye. Almost as if he was expecting you to ask.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? Could say the same to you.”
You stop in front of 17, hand over your brow to shield from the sun that’s winding its way down, getting ready to tuck itself in for the night. There’s nothing that touches your tongue that doesn’t sound exactly like a fuck yes. So you don’t say anything.
“Enjoy your sauna,” he chuckles over his shoulder, passing you with his towels on the way to Room 20.
Led Zeppelin filters out through the radio, half-static, half-electric. Your legs are crossed in the air behind you, and you’re posted up face down on the bed, kicking along to the beat while you flip through whatever Cosmopolitan someone left behind in a drawer.
Someone raps a few times on the door, and if it’s a repairman, they’re getting their fucking dick sucked.
You army-roll off the flowery duvet, abandoning a how-to on finding your g-spot, and you peer through the peephole.
Your breath hitches on a soft swear.
When you open the door, you see Blue T-Shirt standing there, skin creasing around his eyes slyly. An unopened beer hangs and swings from his restless fingers. He offers it up wordlessly, the butt of it pointed at you.
It’s ice-cold and slippery to the touch, erupting goosebumps on your forearm. Saliva coats your tongue, and you don’t think it’s the thirst for alcohol, but maybe the tall drink of water. 
“Um… thanks?”
“Figured you’d either be dead by now or parched,” he says smugly, and it’s velvet to your ears.
“Oh. Yeah, thanks. I got the fan to work at least,” you mutter, jerking your thumb vaguely behind you.
“Listen, uh —”
He’s rubbing the nape of his neck, and you catch the way the network of muscles flex from his elbow to the seam of his armpit. He looks like he’s in pain, struggling with the fit of a puzzle piece into something rough and jagged.
Something he shouldn’t be trying but has to see it through, exhaust it until it’s definite one way or the other.
You just squint, sucking in the corner of your lip between your teeth. You nearly grin, but it’s much more fun to watch than to connect the dots for him.
“A/C works in my room, so ‘f you wanted to… y’know,” he trails off, not even sure in his own offer. “No pressure. It’s hot as hell outside, don’t want you t’get heat stroke ‘f I can help it.”
This kind of approval you like. This kind that sizzles girl-honey between your legs, winning it from a man that’s playing to earn, not to cheat.
“I try not to make a habit out of going into motel rooms of guys I don’t know the names of,” you harp sweetly. But it might as well be a done-deal.
“D’you make a habit outta accepting beers from ‘em?”
You smile. Typically, yes.
“Joel.”
His hand shoots out, strong and suggestive. Fingers like alligator teeth that’ll grip you, hold you under until you thrash. 
And you pluck your cigarettes and gifted liquor bottle from the bed, arms full when you carry them down to Joel’s room.
You’re sprawled on the full-size bed next to his, head propped up on hand propped up on elbow.
You’ve been trading your little fist of bourbon back and forth, swapping stories in the same way. Somehow, you fall into it easy like old friends, and it’s nice to follow someone’s lead instead of keeping one step, three, seven steps ahead. Arm outstretched to the door knob, feet ready to break into a run at the change in tone, blackening of pupils.
Without meaning to, you’ve wordlessly agreed that the person in possession of the bottle has the proverbial mic, and they swig to help with details and theatrics. It’s counter-productive in flow, but it makes you laugh when Joel exaggerates the story he’s telling on purpose, reaching out to pass it back and suddenly yanking it back, remembering a shade of gray or a funny expression.
Your knuckles keep zapping each other, brushing a little longer than the time before. There’s no numbness to consensual touch.
Joel’s mid-40s. From Texas, like you. He came to visit his daughter Sarah at college, says she’s growin’ up too fast, doesn’t need her old man anymore. It’s a thrill to see someone talk about their own flesh with love, admiration for who she is and who she’s becoming. You find yourself leaning in, enraptured that there are no IOUs or fine-print that you know to come with a parent’s love.
Mentions of his stubborn brother Tommy who he works with and who just can’t stop getting into trouble. The unspoken guilt that maybe he could be the one to keep him out of jail if he tried harder. It doesn’t work that way, and you tell him so.
You tell him about your dad when he asks about your life, your story, and you don’t know why you do but maybe you know exactly why. No one ever gets close enough to ask, so it comes leaking out of the corners of your mouth.  
You’ve never told anyone, not even your diary, not even the guidance counselor who slipped a note to your fifth grade teacher and pulled you out of class. Shaky fingers, shaky limbs when they asked if they could roll up your sleeves just to see and you said no. 
Crying because you knew your dad wouldn’t let you go back. Not to school, not to your friends.
You omit the nitty-gritty details, but Joel gets the gist. Swigs his share of the liquor a little too angrily with tight lips. Not like your dad does, but you don’t miss the irony of it all.
He holds anger for you, on behalf of you. It simmers as he listens to you in patient silence, coming to a boil at the bad parts when he gets up and starts walking lines in the shitty carpet. Pretending to look outside in interest at his truck parked at the end of the lot, but gripping the curtains until you can see every expanse of bone in his hand.
You don’t need this from him. It’s a hurt you’ve wedged between the pages of a book and doused in flames of acceptance long ago. But it spreads from your toes to your ears, the burn of someone feeling like this. For someone like you.
He finally settles down in an armchair by the window, a funny corduroy thing that would probably light up under a blacklight on one of those crime shows. Legs parted, a warm stare on the way you take up space on the bed. Facing him comfortably, your vision buzzing around the edges. A loose smile shared as if this room was meant for the two of you all along.
“So, what’s your plan?” Joel’s humming, his words getting lost in an echo of the bottle neck.
You don’t have one. Can’t have one when you have nowhere to go but gone.
It stretches on and on between you — a mouth opened and closed too many times on possibilities. If you admit to it, you end up with pity or an upper hand dealt to a stranger. You can’t afford to owe anyone a favor, nor can you front the cost of needing one.
But you’re so tired.
“Dunno. I’ll figure it out.”
“You got enough time for that?”
And you know what he means. Enough time in the motel, enough time before you’re a thief at wit’s end, doing anything for survival. He doesn’t need to ask to know you don’t have a destination, some relative waiting for you in a California dream.
You’ve excused yourself to the bathroom, soft radio bleeding in under the door, arms braced on the sink, all glossy eyes.
You want him, bad. But he won’t make the first move, won’t take advantage of what isn’t his and what others before him took without asking. You’re a pawn, entitled to the first move. The rejection would kill you, but not knowing would be worse.
He could hold you soft, give you something to think about when tomorrow rips you both in opposite directions.
When you pull open the door, Joel’s frozen in mid-stride towards you, like he’s just made up his mind about something.
He straightens but he’s still. Afraid of moving too fast, saying too much, scaring you into flight. Out of the unlocked cage of his room — something he did on purpose, because he doesn’t expect anything from you and wants you to know he doesn’t.
You meet him in his dusty shag quicksand. You take his wrist in your hand, kiss the thrum of life in the dip where veins meet palm. An offering.
Joel looks like he’s in pain, like what you’re doing is excruciating and thorny. The front of his jeans strains. He’s searching you for any hesitation, any obligation because he did something kind. He knows what currency you feel the need to pay in, and this isn’t that.
“Please,” you whisper simply. And he nods, accepting, succumbing.
There’s a careful meeting of lips, wanting to do it the right way, in the right order. When you push your tongue in, used to the pace of animals, he just holds your face and slows you down. It’s languid, his mouth showing you what sweet and gentle can taste like. Your tongues take their time, and your hands slip beneath the hem of his shirt, all ribbed muscle with a sprinkling of hair.
He shudders against the lightness of your feather-fingers.
Joel’s hands are peeling your shirt off, his thumbs resting to press against pillowy hips. He’s not letting your lips go, something like impatience stirring in you. 
Doesn’t he want to fuck you hard? Fuck you fast and selfish?
Isn’t there a catch?
He’s taking his shirt off now, up and over. Carved by Michaelangelo, thrown up on a ceiling in a library book you read once. You’re touching him in reverence, but not letting yourself learn too much of him.
His eyes are molten. Joel walks you back to the edge of the bed, scratchy quilt tickling your thighs when you fall back on it. You start to pose yourself, angles that make you look more desirable, pliable. But he’s not paying attention to that, just unbuttoning your shorts, kissing the jut of every curve and permeating down to the bone, punching out a soft groan when he slides the denim off and sees the shining ambrosia that’s waiting.
He’s kneeling, tugging you down to meet his waiting mouth. And you’re just breathless, flinching when he pulls you apart, guiding your legs over his shoulders and wasting no time devouring you. Your legs, his bib.
Joel’s tongue flicks through the shell of you, teasing you in alternates of quick and slow, starving and full. It feels like a slice of heaven. 
You pitch out a tangled gasp, hands instinctively moving to knot in his hair. Anything to hold onto, a different kind of grounding.
“So wet f’me,” he vibrates lowly into you, all husk. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet.”
He sinks a middle finger into you, and you’re keening, hips canting and unable to stay glued to the mattress. You feel him smile against your cunt, just pressing his forearm across your lower half to keep you still.
Joel’s twisting and working into you, onto you, and you’re so fucking close from just this — a tiptoeing to the edge that grows longer, more erratic in stride. He sucks your clit — pulsing sensitive, so swollen — into his mouth and grazes it with the tip of his tongue just so. Baring his incisors and closing around you in a delicious scrape like a Venus flytrap taking its meal.
You think you see God behind the flutter of your eyes.
You’re close enough to warn him, to rasp it out in the symphony of moans. His free hand reaches up to roll your peaked nipple between his forefinger and thumb, and he stretches you with an added ring finger. You’re writhing. Possessed.
He’s watching you through thick lashes. Letting your heels dig into his shoulders as the drenched sounds of you fill the room.
“Joel, please — I’m gonna —”
“C’mon, pretty girl,” he just murmurs.
You feel that little pull at your navel.
And you’re tipping in a freefall, seeing stars. You clench down around his fingers, fingers that are still pumping against that spongy spot deep inside you. Your arousal gushes, wet and sticky against the scrape of his beard. He laps you up, the sight making heat creep up your chest and wrap around your neck.
When he lifts his head, he’s high on it. Pupils dilated like tiny, round moons. Your orgasm glistens on him, smeared over lips and chin. The fur of a peach peeled back far enough to sink teeth into.
It’s fucking filthy.
Joel places open-mouthed kisses from your hip up to the center of your breasts, a trail of your orgasm shiny on your skin in perfect, sloppy Os. His breath meets your throat where he nips at you, and you don’t have time to drag in a breath before you’re tasting the saltiness of yourself on his tongue.
Your fingers fumble on his belt, practiced with years of releasing the tension on the metal prongs, the slithering sound whooshing from the loops of pants. You’re good at it, like you used to be good at gymnastics until your mom stopped getting out of bed to drive you. 
There was always a little gold for contorting your body.
He detaches from you unwillingly, putting all of his weight on his knees and shins as he straddles the space of your thighs.
You’re pulling yourself up in a sitting position, pushing denim and boxers down past his hips. Letting his cock spring free, the head a dark pink and beaded with precum. You swipe the flat of your tongue against it, peeking up at him while you soak up the taste of it. 
When you push the length of him into your mouth, ridged hard with veins, Joel tips his head back, chin to the ceiling. He groans something brutish yet helpless, cradling the back of your head. You’re seated in the driver’s seat, all control. 
It’s new, different.
But then he’s moving his hips back, pulling himself from your mouth, wiping the saliva from your chin with a steady thumb.
“Don’t need t’do that,” Joel whispers hoarsely. “Not ‘f you don’t want to.”
Confused, you knit your brows. He laughs darkly, shaking his head.
“Didn’t mean it like that, it’s — it feels fuckin’ good,” he says, awestruck. “Would just rather make you feel good instead.”
Oh.
He doesn’t wait for an answer or a negotiation. The rest of his clothes pool on the floor in a pile, and he’s climbing back over you, an anchor or a buoy in a storm.
He lines himself up at the seam of you, puffy and so wet from before, nudging the tip of his cock at your warm center. A thumb coaxing the bud at the apex of you in lazy circles.
Joel’s sliding in slowly by each inch, filling you full until there’s nothing left and his patch of hair prickles the pearl of your clit. All you can do is whine and tense around him.
He’s resting tentative hands on either side of your face, indenting the weak mattress with handprints. He groans, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t give in when you try to rock against him.
“This alright?”
You’ve forgotten how to do anything, hoping that digging your fingertips into his forearms is communication enough.
“I’m gonna need a yes, baby.”
You feel around in the dark for the tether back to your body, and it jerks you like a marionette, giving him a nod.
“Yes. Fuck.”
That’s enough. He’s rewarding you with a roll of his hips, and you feel like you’re on fire. It’s a stuttering, painfully slow pace at first, his mouth so close to your ear that every grunt is amplified. But it evolves into something eager, unsatiated, snapping up into you with a relentless sort of fucking.
He’s hitting that place so deep within you, letting you unravel and grow hoarse from the moans tearing their way up your throat. That pressure is roiling, the kind that you get only when you touch yourself but intensified by a million.
It just feels so right, because there’s nothing to prove. 
You’re ships passing in the night, strangers making a pit-stop on the way to nowhere. There’s no backstory, no history to make mention of. No shame in the morning when he inevitably rolls over and pretends to be asleep, and you scrub off the smell of him with your provided travel-size shampoo.
It’s not love, but it might be the closest you ever get.
The glow of him above you, a deity with his face screwed in agony. Chasing after you when he feels the tightening of your cunt, the easy glide of every thrust that tells him you’re close.
Then, you’re snapping like a rubber band. Gushing in a dripping mess that trickles to where your ass meets thigh. Crying without tears, overstimulated but blissful. Joel is quick to follow, like he’s been waiting his turn.
He’s trembling, emptying inside you in a warm flood. Groaning low and beautiful, gripping your hips to keep you flush to him.
When pulls out, tearing himself away, he’s slinging an arm over his eyes on the pillow beside yours. One hand on your leg to make sure you don’t go anywhere.
“So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him mutter.
At some point you drift off, his arm draped over you. You open a bleary eye to a neon 2:49AM that casts a halo over the nightstand. Joel’s tucked you in, the thin duvet snug up to your shoulder. He’s not snoring but not not snoring, just breath getting caught in his throat in a satisfied, well-spent way.
It’s all too much, too pure to be real.
Before you let yourself change your mind, you slink out from under the warmth of your generous stranger. You step in your shorts one foot at a time, tugging them up gelatin legs too springy from coiling and uncoiling.
You promise yourself that you’ll take just one mental picture as a keepsake, and it’s this. A sleepy Joel who will be well on his way to a second cup of coffee on the way out of Arizona, maybe even nursing a little headache behind his right eye. And he’ll remember an apparition of some girl he fucked in a motel. The touristy thing to do, a sight to see. 
He might even tell Tommy, say you were a crazy little thing with too much baggage, but it was fun to stay up past his bedtime.
You don’t mean to do it, really you don’t, but you flip through his wallet that lays innocently on top of the TV.
If you take a little something, that’ll turn this into another one of your stories that you tell your kids born from a loveless marriage somewhere in the crevices of a future from now. It won’t pull on the tendons of your heart.
And it won’t mean anything. You won’t let it.
The next morning, there’s a soft knock at the door, and it’s probably housekeeping kicking you out for overstaying your welcome. Time to turn down the bed for the next lost soul. You imagine Joel’s long gone, hopped in his truck and back to a reality you’ll never meet him in.
Your fingers are slow to gather up your purse, and you’re shoving your toothbrush in from its place on the sink.
“I’ll be out in a second!” you yell in a voice that reeks of years of diner-flavored customer service.
More persistent knocking that borders on pounding. It shakes the chain in the deadbolt.
You’re yanking open the door, and there’s Joel, white shirt and jeans. And it isn’t that cushion of admiration from last night, no greeting with a chaste kiss on the cheek.
Just a wolf coming to claim his continental breakfast.
Fuck.
You try to shut the door, suddenly too ashamed of what you’ve done, and to someone undeserving. Someone that showed you kindness, empathy.
But his boot catches the door before it can close, and he’s inside, slicing through the space between you. It’s not quite anger, but it’s shadowy. Sardonic.
Your shoulder blades kiss the cheap wallpaper.
“You’re real funny, y’know that?” he starts, and he’s smiling but not really.
Shrinking small, so small that maybe you’ll disappear.
There’s a tick of silence. His thumb skates to your collarbone and then to the hollow at the base of your throat. He wants to squeeze but he doesn’t, his fingers wrapping loosely around the column to fix you there. Heat creeps up the back of your neck into your hairline.
The instinct to flinch bubbles up against your joints, but you can’t bring yourself to.
“Y’think you can fuck me,” he muses, disgustingly deadpan, “‘n steal from me.”
Dread weighs heavy like lead in your stomach. You can’t stop yourself from shaking your head, still playing dumb.
He bristles at that, thunderous. You both know it’s a lie; you’re a hundred dollars richer than you were last night. His fingers briefly flex around you in a way that you’ve seen before, and horror hits a fever pitch in you.
Tears prick your eyes, and you’re putting your palms on his chest and shoving, but he doesn’t give. Unstoppable force meets immovable object, and all that.
It’s not so much the blaring punctuation in a sentence, the ticking of dynamite ready to blow. He’s confronting you with proximity, with your own dishonesty. Wanting to shake you and tell you that it doesn’t have to be this way.
Joel just leans in closer, almost grazing noses. You try to breathe around the lump of panic.
“The hell’s the matter with you?”
It’s disbelief, it’s hurt. In the same way, it’s understanding, incredulous. It’s him stepping back and loosening the hold around your neck like no one’s ever done; it’s softening and imploring.
He’s shoving his hands in his pockets, guilty and recoiling. Sorry he could even make himself look like one of them — a forced penance in the flesh.
There’s no answer that can justify what you did. Nothing simple about nothing personal. But truly… that’s all it was. A pie wafting steam on an open windowsill. Something to make you feel better about the void he’d leave.
“‘F you needed money, you coulda just asked.” 
He’s disappointed, desperate. In a tone that really says, I would’ve done anything you wanted.
A dam inside you gives, crumbling deep at the foundation and knocking the walls down around you. Words don’t come, but you shove your hand in blind into your bag, pulling out the loose bill and extending it.
Joel sees the regretful offering and your heart with x-ray vision. That you think of yourself as a doll, less valuable without her box. Used without tags. Free to a good home.
He shakes his head, the softness of a keep it barely peeking out of his mouth.
You’re skinning yourself raw, wanting another way out but having none. With half a mind to say that the next night could come with fangs.
You feel the stab of relief, and shame. So much shame.
Like a soothsayer, he foresees the coldness of a bench, the shrinking of you into the safety of an alley.
You drop to your knees in exaltation, thinking you know what’ll fix this. You can’t see through the watercolor blur of your tears, but you touch his belt with fingers that are cold to the tips.
But Joel knows what you’re doing, shaking his head no no no.
He won’t let you do it like this. He drags you up gently by the elbows. Pulls you into his chest, says stop stop stop. Kisses your hair, then your lips. You cry until he can taste the tears, until the front of his shirt is damp.
“I’m sorry,” you rasp out roughly. “I’m so sorry.”
He tells you to never say sorry to him again.
Joel pays for a room for two more nights, but only one — his with the working A/C.
You move your toothbrush and your bag over to Room 20.
You go to the pool, swimming laps around him in a tank top and your cherry-embroidered underwear, squealing and splashing in a flail when he swims underneath your legs and stands up to hold you on his tan shoulders.
Sunscreen streaks greasy on your stomach when you lay out together on the loungers after. Joel likes a cat-nap with his face under a towel, grumpy and tired from the sun. But he never snaps at you, never gets impatient when you ask too many questions while he’s dozing off.
You learn the pinched expression he makes just before he comes. That his right palm has hundreds of lines you can see best by lamplight. He misses the noise of Sarah in his house, of sharing the coffee pot with someone. He doesn’t like the small piling of toast crumbs left only by him on the kitchen table.
He learns that you apologize for wet, clean hair on his pillowcase, for laughing too loud. Things that don’t need a sorry. A collection of oversaturated manners that might take time to unlearn, but he promises to teach you.
He learns that you approach an orgasm with tentative toes in cold water, almost unbelieving that sex can give, give, give instead of take, take, take. He learns that you like the meeting of eyes when he’s buried between your legs, pushing your thighs apart to keep from suffocating. That when he does let you get on your knees for him, you know just the spot to caress with your tongue on the underside of his cock.
Joel’s belt is snaked under your stomach, across your hips, fists intertwined in the leather as he pulls you back, slams himself forward. It bites and creates indents in your flesh, and you don’t care. He gives you marks to love, to admire in your reflection, never ones that are ugly. Never ones out of hate over spilled milk.
There’s a dirty slap of skin, growing louder, competing with your moans. Your nails are tearing into the cheap sheets, and Joel’s so close but won’t come until he coaxes another out of you. A grand total of at least four by now, but you’ve lost count.
At long last, you splinter around him. Pitching off the cliff in a cry. Joel’s leaning — his chest, your back — and spilling deep, holding onto you for dear life. You hear him whimper in a strangle. Big, tough game that’s been taken down with an arrow in his chest.
Hot tears are flowing out of you, stuttering sobs close to follow, and Joel pulls out slowly. Seems to know why. And he rolls you over, into him, hand careful in slow strokes against your hair.  
You’ve never been good at goodbyes. Maybe that’s what this is.
Men like to say that women like you are insane, too analytical, too tear-streaked, too conscious of the way they look when they sleep. Because waking up with your mouth open, a drying corner of drool threatening your cheek is too human, not pretty.
Sometimes women like you are dead, rotting pomegranate flesh. Long forgotten in decay on the ground when the weight became too heavy to hold yourself up. And those men pick up your seeds and shove them squelching back into places where they don’t fit. 
The winters come bitter and harsh, but you’re always reborn in the spring. And without fail, you grow back fiercely into a tree reminiscent of Eden, low-hanging apples plucked and bruised and bitten into once and spit out in tart disgust. 
Women like you choke men like this with your pits, strangle them with vines, poison them with berries. They can consume, but so can you.
But then, in the ripe, cool shade of summer, you’ll have a visitor like Joel that will come with a basket and a blanket and they’ll stay and read books beneath you. They’ll enjoy your fruit, you’ll drip from their mouth and dry tacky like flypaper, and they won’t be able to imagine a day before you. 
They’ll collect all the pieces of you on a Tuesday morning and give you change to get a Coke after checkout. They’ll tuck you into the front seat of their truck, let you put your feet up on the dash, hand protective and calm on your thigh while the other steers you both back to Texas. A new home without shouting and bottles thrown.
And they’ll stay through every season.
1K notes · View notes
moonjxsung · 5 months
Note
i love your fics and was wondering if you’d be able to do a oneshot about an inexperienced reader with chan where he has a corruption kink ! thanks 🫶🏽
Warning: smut below! mdni.
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“This one’s Ursa Major, Chan says, pressing a gentle kiss to the birthmark on your arm. “And this little one is Hercules.” He rotates your arm is his grasp, grazing his lips over the birthmark on your inner wrist and placing another tender kiss.
“What about this one?” You question, flashing him a smaller one just below your elbow.
“That’s all the constellation names I know,” Chan replies with a breathy chuckle. “So this one can just be mine.”
He pulls your arm up to his lips, earning a laugh from you, as he awkwardly angles your arm and seals his words with a chaste kiss to your elbow.
You smile at him from where you’re laying, across from him in his bed, one hand tucked under the pillow, while the other mindlessly traces patterns onto his skin.
This sight makes your heart flutter- your boyfriend alongside you in his bed, looking particularly handsome in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, his brown hair tousled casually around his chiseled face. He makes your heart skip several beats, but he also intimidates you, being one of your first very serious boyfriends. Sure, you’ve kissed guys and dated around. And you’ve also slept with a fair few men up to this point. But Chan is different. He treats you far better than those other men- he buys you nice things, he satisfies you physically and he respects you more than anyone has before. That’s not to mention he gets you insanely horny at the smallest touches, even his voice serving as erotica sometimes, making you press your legs together for some sense of relief as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear and grazes his fingers along your skin.
“Got any other birthmarks I should know about?” Chan questions, reaching a hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
“A few,” you reply, shooting him a small smile. “They’re just not visible in these pajamas.”
“Yeah?” He says, propping himself up to hover over you again. “Do those ones want constellation names, too?”
You hum in response, pulse already racing at the implication of undressing in front of him. It’s an exciting combination of arousal and anticipation, and you briefly wonder if you’ve ever known somebody who keeps you on your toes like this before.
“Maybe,” you reply, massaging a hand through his curly tresses. “But you have to find them.”
“I can do that,” Chan whispers in reply, already working kisses down your neck, the ache between your legs already wet for him at the sounds of his plump lips attaching to your flesh and working you in a frenzy.
His calloused fingers move to the straps of your tank top, where he slides them both off and begins working little kisses along your shoulders and collar bones. You whimper at the contact, wanting so badly for him to relieve the growing ache between your legs, but you’re simultaneously too shy to ask for it, and fear that you’re inadequate to lead him on the way he wants. It’s no secret to you that Chan has another side to him- he’s dated plenty of girls, engaged in a myriad of lascivious acts with them and he knows exactly what he wants at all times. You, on the other hand, know next to nothing about what you like, aside from the few times a boyfriend has casually fingered you or given you subpar head. It’s your innocence you fear will drive Chan away when he realizes; he likely wants someone who’ll do the tricks he already knows drive him crazy.
As his hands find their way to your breasts, you stop him suddenly, pulling away and flickering over his gaze nervously.
“You okay?” Chan asks, looking down at you breathlessly as he attempts to read your expression.
“Yeah,” you reply, reluctant to say the rest of your sentence. “I just…”
“You just what?” Chan says, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. In fact, I can just put on a movie for us and we can cuddle, yeah? What movie you feeling?”
“No,” you say, pulling him back toward you when he faces the television.
“I want to,” you emphasize. “I’m just not as… experienced as you. And I want you to do it the way you want.”
Chan smiles down at you, chuckling lightly when he takes notice of the way your eyes practically sparkle as you look up at him, pleading for him to use you however he wants.
“You want me to take control?” Chan clarifies, toying with the hem of your pajama shorts.
“Yes,” you reply assuredly. “I just want you to… use me.”
Chan groans a little at your words, his mind already running rampant with thoughts of you under him, all fucked-out in pleasure.
“I don’t want to overstep your boundaries-”
“You’re not,” you assure him, giving his forearm a little squeeze. “I’m asking you to. I’m already wet for you, baby. Please, just use me.”
With one hand, you guide his hand down your shorts, running the pads of his fingers over your panties and letting him feel your preemptive arousal for him. He smiles a little at the sensation, his cock hardening at the sight of you all needy and begging for him.
“It’s hard to say no when you’re begging like this,” Chan states, grazing his lips over yours.
“Then don’t say no,” you reply, finally closing the gap between you two and kissing him.
Chan gives into you fully now, his plump lips pulling yours between his teeth and nibbling hungrily, moaning against you as he pushes you further down against the bed and works kisses down your neck again. He pulls your flesh mercilessly between his teeth, sucking loudly and pulling away, trailing dark purple bruises down your skin and groaning at the sight. His hands tangle themselves in your hair, pulling your locks into a makeshift ponytail away from your neck as he exposes more of you to kiss, more of you to bruise.
“This what you want?” Chan asks in a low voice, grunting against your skin as you whimper weakly in his grasp. Your skin is tender to the touch now, the bruises burning delightfully as he practically bites you, trailing down until his lips graze your breasts.
Chan wastes no time pulling off your tank top, latching his lips on one of your hardened nipples as he tweaks the other one between his fingers, gradually toying until he’s pinching you in his grip. You groan at the sensation, shivering a little as his gentle sucking quickly transitions to nibbling, his teeth grazing your nipple before biting gently and earning a startled gasp from you.
Chan looks down at you through hooded eyes, his expression unlike one you’ve ever seen on him before. His eye bags are somehow more prominent like this, not a hint of a smile on his face as he gauges your reactions to the stimulation, breathing heavily when a moan or a muffled breath escapes your lips. He looks almost animalistic like this, eager to please you the way he wants to, your innocence and purity set aside as he uses you like you requested.
As his tongue swirls around your nipples, your back arching into him in pleasure, his hands snake down to your pajama shorts, practically ripping them off of you and dipping inside your panties, where his fingers attach themselves to your clit. He starts in circular motions, his mouth reattaching to your breasts as you grind up against his hand to chase the delicious friction. And then without warning, his fingers are inside of you, pumping in and out of you as he steadies your hips against the bed with his palm flat on your stomach.
“Stay still, baby,” he orders. “You asked for this. Don’t move unless I tell you to.”
You nod breathlessly against him, trying your best to steady your movements as he works his fingers in and out of you. But you’re eager to feel him all over you, already dripping at the sensation of his fingers caressing your walls with every thrust, your sopping cunt emitting lewd sloshing noises as he picks up the pace and fucks you even faster. You can feel your first orgasm approaching quickly, your walls clenching around him as he nibbles on your breast particularly hard, earning a fervent moan from you. And then without any time to warn him, you’re cumming around his fingers almost instantly, coating his fingers in a generous trickle of your arousal as you writhe below him. It’s a new record for you to have cum this fast with someone, especially considering it’s your first time having somebody take the reins like this. But Chan continues pumping in and out of your swollen cunt, angling your face toward his and forcing your gaze on him.
“You ever tasted yourself before, baby?” He asks curiously, continuing to smear your arousal around you.
“N-no,” you breathe out, already turned on at the thought of it.
Chan smiles down at you, bringing the two fingers from your pussy up to his lips, swirling his tongue around his own fingers before shoving them in his mouth and licking his digits clean. You whine a little as he does, desperate for him to fulfill his ask like he mentioned.
“You want to taste?” Chan asks, his voice muffled as he talks with a mouthful of his own fingers. “Beg for it,” he then says, his voice coming off as cockier than usual as he looks down at your helpless state.
“Please,” you beg, your mouth salivating at the way his lips glisten with your arousal. How badly you want it to be you tasting your juices like that, desperate to relish in the same pleasure he is. “Please let me taste myself,” you ask again, whining in his grasp.
“So needy,” Chan says in an amused tone. “All for me, yeah? Never tasted yourself before?”
You shake your head no, your eyes flickering desperately between his plump lips and his slender, wet fingers. “Guess this’ll be your first time,” he says, pulling his fingers out of his mouth. “Open your mouth for me.”
And you do, parting your lips and sticking out your tongue for him, but he doesn’t follow with his fingers; instead; he grips your throat, forcing your gaze on his, leaning over you and parting his lips over yours, too. He gathers a generous wad of spit in his mouth, pursing his lips together as he lets it trickle from his mouth into yours, a string of saliva connecting still present as you feel your salty arousal hit your tongue and slide down the back of your throat.
“Swallow,” Chan orders, gripping your throat a little harder as he watches you bring your lips together and force the saliva-cum mixture down your throat. Your heart races with excitement as a smile grows on his face, watching intently as you stick your tongue back out at him, your mouth void of any remnants of your arousal.
“Good girl,” Chan says, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
Your heartbeat quickens again as Chan sits up now, pulling down his sweatpants and freeing his hardened cock from his pants and then his boxers. He looks painfully hard for you, a string of precum dripping from the tip of his cock as he finally stands up off the bed, nearing the edge and motioning to you.
“Bend over,” he orders, guiding you by your waist. “On the bed.”
You reluctantly assume your position, your feet hitting the ground as your chest falls over the duvet, glancing back at Chan as his hand meets the base of his cock.
“Like this?” You question, hair falling into your face as you watch him pump himself a few times.
“Just like that, baby,” he replies, reaching out to take your hands in his and pinning them behind your back. “I want your face down,” he says, guiding you so that you’re pressed against the mattress, your back arched up to give him better access to your cunt as he holds your hands behind your back.
“Have you ever been fucked like this, baby?” Chan asks in a gentle tone, taking a step forward to that his cock is resting at your entrance.
“No,” you admit shyly, your walls fluttering in anticipation.
“Just relax for me, okay?” He tells you, continuing to pump himself over you, your breathing growing ragged in anticipation.
“This is your first time, so we’re gonna use the light system. Say red if you want me to stop, yeah?” He explains, groaning a little as he smears his precum down his shaft. “You look so good for me, all ready for me to use you. Fuck, I could watch you like this all day.”
You whimper at his praise, nodding back at him as he taps the tip of his cock gently against your entrance. And then he finally slips inside of you, bottoming out with ease as you take him wholly.
“Fuck, you’re soaking,” Chan says, adjusting his grip on your wrists and holding them in front of himself as he begins to move. He starts with gentle thrusts, the lewd sound of his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy teeming all around the room and making your head spin with pleasure. His cock kisses your cervix as he pumps inside of you, groans escaping his lips as he fucks you a little harder and tightens his grip on your wrists.
“That feel good, baby?” Chan asks breathlessly. “Talk to me.”
“Y-yes,” you reply in a shaky tone, a stream of drool escaping your lips and trickling onto the mattress below you. You can barely get a word out, feeling entirely too fucked-out in pleasure by your boyfriend, the feeling of him using you making your walls clench with every movement. He slows his pace a little bit, reaching down to caress your spine with his hand and gauge how you’re feeling.
“Color,” he says plainly, his thrusts much shallower now.
“Green,” you breathe, another pool of drool escaping your lips onto the duvet below you. “Harder,” you manage to breathe out, your entrance already missing the fullness of his cock when he’s railing you like this. You know this is going to be a regular occurrence from now on, dripping in anticipation as you wait for him to move faster again.
“What was that, baby?” Chan asks.
“Harder,” you say again, whining into the mattress. “Fuck me harder, please. Feels so good.”
Chan chuckles lightly at the sight, your drool pooling alongside the trickling mascara around your eyes, your breasts bouncing with every thrust as he pulls you closer to him and picks up the pace again. He’s never seen you like this before, completely submitted to him, reduced to a whiny, drooling mess, all for his aching cock. But he loves the way he’s driven you to this, knowing very well it won’t be the last time he makes you beg for him to corrupt you.
“Fuck, baby,” Chan breathes. “I’m gonna cum.”
You can’t say anything in response, pornographic moans escaping your lips in harmony with his grunts, so close to your release now as he pounds into you, the room filled with sounds of slapping skin and breathless lovers. Chan’s hands pull your makeshift ponytail against him, giving one particularly hard thrust as he lets out a fervent moan at the friction. And then as he holds you still, his cock twitches inside of you, emptying a generous load of his cum inside of you and coating your walls entirely in his milky white arousal. He holds you still, thrusts slowing down to let you breathe, and massaging little circles into your back as he finally feels you tremble and find your release around his still-hard cock, dribbling arousal on him and the carpeted flooring.
You shiver in a mix of pain and pleasure when he finally pulls out, caressing your waist with his hands and guiding you up again.
“You okay, baby?” Chan asks, giving you a little kiss on your exposed back and trailing his fingers over your spine. “Sit down for me, yeah? Gonna get you some water and a towel.”
You do as you’re told, legs still trembling as you sit on the edge of your bed and catch your breath, the ache between your legs quickly replaced by a languorous sensation to be close to Chan once again.
Chan’s calloused hands work little massages into your shoulder blades as he holds you against him, grazing his lips over your skin and smiling against you.
“You did so well,” he says, pulling the blanket up higher so that your torso is warmly covered by the knit.
“Felt so good,” you hum in response. “We’re definitely doing that again. I want to keep trying new things with you.”
“I can do that,” Chan says, grazing your hand with his fingertips. “We’re not in any rush.”
You nod at his words, laying back against him and shutting your eyes in a state of blissful weariness.
“For now,” he continues, running a finger across your neck. “We have a few new marks to assign constellation names to.”
You chuckle softly against him, your eyes remaining shut as he speaks in hushed tones.
“I thought you ran out of constellation names.”
“I did,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to a purple bruise painted on your flesh.
“They can just all be mine.” He moves to kiss another one, careful not to apply pressure to your bruised flesh.
“This one is mine,” he presses a little kiss, moving to the next. “This one is Channie’s. And this one belongs to me…”
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uhlunaro · 1 year
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heyyy!! could i make a request where re4!leon is like head over heels with his partner but doesn't know how to approach, so luis realizes that and comes up with a plan!!! that involves him talking to leon about wanting to ask her out or something like that, and he mentions on how pretty she is, so leon is holding himself back from punching ot screaming at him. then luis becomes more touchy with reader like small touches on hips, waist, hugs and also more flirty. then leon ends up confessing and he gives reader a bunch of hickeys so luis knows she's taken
you can also add smut but that's up to you
sorry for the long request lol 😭
bestie i had every intention of including smut but it just didn’t work out that way… anyway this is very cute and light-hearted so no warnings here!!! i had so much fun with this, especially writing luis
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“So. You and, uh… what was her name again?”
They trek through a dangerous, half-collapsed mine shaft, and Luis chooses now to make small talk. 
“Not sure how any of this is relevant.”
“Already so territorial, hm?”
“I don’t—“ Leon’s never been one to lose patience, to own a temper, but Luis’s endless prodding effectively grinds his nerves to paste. “She’s my partner.”
“She’s also very pretty.” At the roll of Leon’s eyes, Luis tosses back his head in a show of boisterous laughter. “Oh, please. You’re a man with eyes. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“Haven’t really had the time.”
“In that case, I suppose you wouldn’t mind if we got… closer.”
“Be my guest.”
“You say that, but I’m sensing some hostility in your tone.”
He tries to bite his tongue. Really, he does. But with the heat of underground and the high-stakes stress of the mission and his temporary partner making advances toward his permanent one—
“I really should’ve left you in that sleeping bag.”
Luis brushes off the hostility with infuriating ease. Just a shrug of lazy agreement and a show of pearly teeth. “Does she know?”
“Know what?”
“That you like her.”
He thinks to argue, to defend himself, but Luis possesses a sharpness befitting a scientist… Biologist. Whatever he is.
“No, she doesn’t.”
It’s almost painful to admit, to say aloud. To recognize that he once again has proven himself lovesick and naive. He thought he was done with it all the first time. Butterflies in his chest, the insufferable longing, the inevitable heartbreak.
But it’s you. His partner, his long-time friend, his—well. He won’t say love. That would mean finally admitting it to himself.
You trained together.
You fight together. 
You bleed together.
You survive together.
During your first meeting, you bloodied up his nose then laughed in his face, then hand-scrubbed the stains from his shirt right outside the dorms in a show of apology. 
He remembers the sleepless nights, and the piss-poor rations, and your complaints about the weather. 
You’ve always been there, tucked away in some far-off corner, slumped against his side, urging him along. To keep going, to keep fighting.
Who else but you?
“You have to tell her. You know that, right?”
Maybe Luis sees something in him. Something that makes the man lower his voice, to speak with such bone-deep passion.
“I can’t.”
“Why not? It’s quite simple.”
“No. It’s not.”
“Yes. It is.” Luis suddenly halts, and Leon accepts his fate. “We should practice.”
“… Practice.”
“For your grand confession, of course. Our lady deserves something proper, from the heart.”
“I’m a little more worried about—“
“Yes, yes, the president’s daughter. It’ll only take a second.”
Ashley Graham is going to die, all because this strange, charismatic man wants to entertain hypotheticals.
Still, Leon relents.
“Only a second.”
“Fantastic. Okay, I’ll play you.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“But shouldn’t I play me?”
Luis sighs. “You are impossible.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The two men stare at each other, neck-deep in a battle of wills.
Leon breaks first.
“Fine. You win.”
Like the flip of a switch, Luis falls back into an attitude of ease, and flashes a teasing grin. “So, it would be best to do this after you’ve rescued her from the clutches of los ganados.”
“She doesn’t need rescued, Luis.”
“Just play along, alright?” Leon twitches his shoulders in a lazy shrug of agreement, and the other man continues, pacing back and forth along the path. “As I was saying: we burst into the room where our lovely lady has been… residing. After an explosive firefight (which I will let you take the glory for), the two of you reunite in a tender display of affection.”
Luis pauses. Something about dramatic effect.
“That’s when you take her into your arms and confess. I’ve thought of you every moment we were apart, and I realize now how foolish I’ve been. My heart beats for you, and you alone. If we survive this, allow me the pleasure of taking you to dinner. And then you kiss. The end.”
Leon blinks. It’s all he can do, really. The scenario is so absurd that in any other situation he would laugh himself to tears. 
“And that… works for you?”
“Like a dream.”
“I don’t buy it.”
“You don’t have to recite it word-for-word. It’s more of a guideline, you see.”
Still, Leon stands there and thinks.
This would never work. Not on you. You appreciate simplicity, have always found comfort in bare minimums. An unfortunate side effect of military life. 
But if he strips away the flowery language and trims the fat, it could work. It’s not like he doesn’t need the help where you’re concerned. 
“I’ll think about it,” Leon says, and they continue on.
When he sees you next, you kneel inside a branched-off cave, inspecting boxes and barrels. Some of the lids are broken off, others caved in to expose the contents inside. Just behind you sits three sticks of strapped-together dynamite.
The heart inside his chest threatens to spill between his ribs at the sight. Everything looks a little brighter, fuzzy at the edges.  
Luis nudges him hard in the ribs, nods over to you with wide eyes. A silent scream of say something!
“About time you showed up, Leon.” They turn to look at you as you wipe the dust from your shirt then heave out a sigh. “Hello, Luis.”
The man in question saunters over to where you stand, grin wide and wolfish.
“Ah, mi señorita.” He presses a kiss to the back of your palm, and you smile. “¿Estás bien?”
Something bitter coats Leon’s tongue.
“Sí, pero este ganado...”
You step aside to reveal a man slumped beneath a broken box, chest pockmarked with bullet wounds.
“How’d you get here?” Leon asks, cutting a quick eye to Luis and the hand he wraps around your shoulder.
The hand that curls tighter, a jesting lilt to the other man’s voice as he says, “Oh, come on. What matters is that we’re all together now.”
“One big, happy family.” You gift Leon a smile that burns bright as sunshine, impossibly warm. Like he’s been caught in a great blizzard and the mere sight of you chips away at all the lingering frost. “Right, Leon?”
You feel like sanctity, a blinding light at the end of a crumbling tunnel. A buoy, a deep-rooted redwood, an altar, the prayer itself. 
This village doesn’t know a goddamn thing about worship.
“Right.”
Luis leads you from the cave as Leon grabs the dynamite, arm slung heavy around your shoulders. He speaks to you, simple small talk, questions concerning your background.
He asks your name.
“Sorry. Only Leon’s allowed to know that.”
“Oh, you wound me. I thought we were friends.”
“Let’s get rid of this cult, and then we’ll talk.”
“That is music to my ears.”
If Leon didn’t know better, he’d think his skin green at this point. Something festers between his ribs, a viscous tar that chokes at his throat. Leaves him speechless and sullen.
He hates it. Hates the way you render him to useless emotion, so powerful and overwhelming.
He should be past this by now. Over it.
But it’s you, and you make him stupid.
“Unfortunately,” you duck away from Luis’s touch and move toward the entrance of the cavern, “I’ll have to catch you two later. There’s information I still have to collect.”
“Now? Really?” Leon asks, feet following you on instinct. You’re a team. Always have been. Where else should he be but at your side?
“This is what I came here to do.”
“But what if you—“
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“You know I will. That’s half the job.”
You smile at him again, until Luis clears his throat to redirect your attention.
“Might I suggest a short farewell? I can stand… somewhere else. Over there.” He stares at Leon, raises his brows in silent prodding.
Oh. His heartfelt confession. Right. 
“This place is dangerous,” Luis continues. “You never know what could happen.”
You meet Leon’s eye and nod in agreement. “Right. Yeah.”
Luis throws him a thumbs up before slinking away to the other side of the cavern, lingering somewhere out of sight.
Leon turns to you and clears his throat. Adjust the fit of his gloves. Tightens the straps of his body armor.
He’s nervous, and he’s doing a shit job at hiding it.
“So, uh. Comms still working?”
“Yeah.”
“What about guns? Have enough ammo?”
“Loaded and ready.”
“And you’re sure you aren't hurt.”
“I’m fine. Seriously.”
“You’re sure.”
You lift a hand to rest against his bicep, lightly squeezing. An attempt to reassure, comfort.
“What’s wrong?” you ask. “You’re acting weird.”
“Am I?”
You level a glare at him, and he stiffens.
Because he is acting weird. There’s a certain discomfort to the air, a tension that cracks the smooth edges of his aura. And you notice. Of course you do. You know him better than anyone, and the arms-length conversation he currently holds you at has tipped you off. 
“Did something happen with Luis?”
“No. It’s just been a long day.”
He can’t do it. Not now. Not when you look at him like this, a dissection of atoms and bone marrow.
You step closer, almost chest to chest, and his head begins to spin. A stifling heat rises to his face.
You speak in whispers. “Is it because he’s been flirting with me? ‘Cause listen, I won’t let that distract me from the mission. He said it himself: that’s just how he is.”
“No, that’s not—“
“Then what is it? I know you. Something happened.”
“Have dinner with me.” The words rush out. He doesn’t think, just speaks, and his tongue burns with regret, but he can’t stop talking. “After we get out of this place and take Ashley back to her dad, we should have dinner.”
Your eyes roam his face, and you say nothing. He swallows thick, shifts on his feet with a crunch of gravel that cracks loud amongst the silence.
His grand confession, little more than word vomit. Truly, it isn’t a confession at all. You eat dinner together all the time. Hell, you sleep in the same bed sometimes, share blankets. You’ve seen each other naked.
You make him stupid, make him feel young again—a flash of red, a manipulation, a cable car kiss.
But you don’t make him feel the way she did. Your affections hold no ulterior motive, no means to an end. You care because you simply do, and he doesn’t know how to cope with that.
He should try again.
“I was worried about you while you were gone. I’m too used to having you with me, I guess.” He hopes you’ll understand, read between the lines, catch the things he says and the things he can’t yet. He shakes his head. “What I’m trying to say is: I had to live in a world without you, and I never want to do that again.”
You take a moment to process, simply stare at him, into his eyes, and he hopes you see that he’s trying. That he means what he says.
“You… oh. Oh. You’re asking me on a date?”
He exhales a laugh, and his lips curl into a tender smile. “Yeah.”
He braces for the rejection—a wince, maybe a frown, maybe you might laugh in his face. Maybe you’ll request a transfer, another partner as soon as you reach HQ. And he’ll be okay with that. He’ll have to be.
Your gaze lowers, as if searching for something in the fabric of his shirt. “I didn’t think you cared about me like that.”
“You have no idea.”
“And you don’t either, apparently.” Your lips stretch wide into a sheepish grin, and you scrub a thumb over his cheek. Over the smear of soot that he never bothered to wipe away. “I thought my hints were pretty good, but apparently not.”
“You were dropping hints?”
You laugh, rest a hand against the body armor covering his chest, and he thinks he might die. Genuinely, truly die. “Yeah. I guess I should’ve just said something. Communication and all that.”
“To be fair, they never taught us that in training.”
You toss your head and tug him closer by the hem of his shirt. “Just hurry up and kiss me before you go.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Your lips meet, and although your laughter offsets the angle, and you’re both covered in a layer of grime, and he stumbles over a rock at one point, it’s sweet and tender and all the dreams he’s had over the years could never ever compare to this—you, tangible and warm and beautiful, returning his affection.
He should pinch himself later.
He pulls away and your chest expands on inhale, heavy and breathless, and you look at him like he hangs the stars in your sky, and he knows he doesn’t fare much better. 
“Maybe we should just stay here,” he says, mouth stretching into a smile. “Make up for lost time.”
“That’s tempting, but you kinda have a cult to destroy. And we can’t forget the president’s daughter.”
A thought crosses his mind, then passes by again, then sticks. He recalls what Luis said, something about being territorial, and he knows it’s weird and possessive—
But the curve of your neck is right there, and the urge won’t leave him.  
“Can I do something, then? Before we go?”
“…Now you have me curious.”
You allow him to tilt your head back, a forefinger soft beneath your chin, and his lips press to your neck. Open-mouthed kisses that leave you sighing. Then he suckles at the heavy thump of your pulse, and something coils in the pit of his stomach.
He pulls away and meets your low-lidded gaze. 
“Hickeys? Really?”
A mottled discoloration against your complexion, still slick with spit beneath torchlight.
“In case anybody tries to get handsy.”
“Like who? Los ganados?”
“And others.”
You smack the back of your palm against his arm, and he grins. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Luis.”
He shrugs, watches as you laugh. As your nose scrunches and your teeth gleam and your eyes shape to crescents.
“Guilty as charged,” he says, and you kiss him again. 
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