#he's opening up and that's good but god at what cost????
Text
I need to...
Enjoy my Summer I.
MASTERLIST
Summary: You start off your summer in Dorne, with your girl best friend and your godmother
Pairings: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x Sara Snow
Warnings: cursing, horny people, PDA, teasing, fears of cheating, discussion about cheating, all in good fun, might miss some warnings, you know what this is about jeje
Wordcount: 4,4 k
Notes:I can't apologise enough for the delay to this! I had most of the next chapter and nothing on this one! jeje I had a HUGE block... and eventually, I managed... but I feel like there is nothing intense on this chapter, but still... I hope you all liked this!
“Cregan! Jace! Look who we run into!”, you said excitedly into the back camera of your phone. Jace and Cregan’s mouth opened widely when they saw who you were with
“Hello, I’m Oberyn Martell and this is for these lovely ladies’ boyfriends, Jace and Cregan!”, the charismatic man said, waving at the camera
Then you and Sara show up in screen, Oberyn grabbed you both under each arm and kissed your cheeks
“You are lucky men!”, he teased. You show up giddy and giggly, hugging onto Oberyn martell
The boys’ smile wiped out immediately, sharing concerned looks
“Is Oberyn going to… fuck our girlfriends?”, asked Jace, with a traumatised look on his face
“No! No”, muttered Cregan looking at the road ahead, “I don’t think….”, they both looked ahead wide-eyed and mouth agape…“Well…”
“He is going to fuck our girlfriends isn’t he?”, asked Jace
“Alright search where is the nearest airport and how much is going to cost us the next plane ticket to the fucking watergardens…”
“We can’t leave the car in here dude!”, muttered Jace, typing on his phone, “besides is going to cost us like a thousand golden dragons and 12 hours with three different connections, by the time we get there…”
“You are right, is crazy….”, they spend the next minutes in silence, just looking at the road, “Look…”, started Cregan grabbing onto the wheel, “...he is Oberyn Martell alright? I don’t know if the girls choose to… do… him… but… if they did… I mean…”, Jace nodded nervously
“Yes we couldn’t blame them, I mean, if I encountered him, and he invited me to his hotel room, I’d go too”, Cregan nodded enthusiastically
“Yeah, right? Mee too, and I wouldn’t like my beautiful girlfriend to be mad, because… he is Oberyn Martell, right? everyone’s favourite actor/philanthropist/playboy/martial arts specialist/tv personality”
“Yeah so if they decided to… go back to his room with him…”
“We shouldn’t be mad”, said Cregan
“Right, right, if anything… we are jealous”
“Right!”, said Cregan, and they both went back to stare at the road ahead
Cregan wished he had gone with you instead of having all those boring family reunions, specially with Robb being so mean, he was forced to hang out in the kid’s table, it was a bit embarrassing, considering he was twenty
But that was done, and now, Jace and him where on his car, on their way down the routes of the North, their plan was to explore some cities as they made their way towards Harrenhal, give the girls time to join them when they finish in the Watergardens
But Cregan was so happy to receive all those exciting texts from Sara, she was having the time of her life thanks to you, and those texts from you to… made him blush as he was looking straight ahead
He wasn’t worried about you and Oberyn, not at all, but he did wish he was with you right now, having met him and together in the sun… summer… made him so horny, he didn’t even know why.
“We should be arriving in Castle Cerwin in a couple of hours”, offered Jace with a smile
Castle Cerwin was a cool town but not where the boys would like to be
But this is the decision they had made so it's the one they were sticking to, besides they were meeting some of Cregan’s friends so it was going to be a fun night in the town with all boys
Then…. Like five other towns in their way to The God’s Eye
But meanwhile
“Should I feel bad that you didn’t bring your boyfriend for me to meet?”, asked Your Godmother over her Chanel sunglasses
As Sara enjoyed the pool over an inflatable flamingo, your godmother started the third degree on you.
“No”, you said shakily, “It’s nothing like that, it's just, he had things to do with his family”
“How serious is this?”, she asked, not convinced
“I think pretty serious”, you whispered as you sunbathed by her side
“It’s a bit soon, don’t you think?”, she asked, concerned
“We thought things through”, you reassured her, “we are taking things slow”
“Are you?”, she asked, well, not really
“My therapist says he is been good for me”, you said, that seemed to content her
“And when can I meet him?”, she asked
“After this, we are all going to the God’s Eye”, you offered with an apologetic smile
“Alright, maybe next season”, she muttered, you only laughed
“It would mean a lot to me if you met him”, you said with a soft smile
“I can’t wait, my love”, she answered, “from what you have told me, he seems like a great guy, and if he is half as nice as his sister… I’m sure he is the right one for you”
“Well, is too soon to speak about forever, but that is how it feels like right now”, you whispered with a silly smile, and you found your Godmother smiling back at you
“I’m so glad you finally found someone who can… well… a decent man”, she finished, you giggled
“After this we are going to Daemon’s house, in the Island of faces”
“I’ve heard”, she teased, “without any adult supervision?”, you giggled
“No… I don’t think so…”
“Take care, alright?”, she asked, “please?”
“Of course”, you whispered
“And tell that little Cregan that if he doesn’t take care of you… I can pay someone to take care of him…”
“Godmother!”, you chided playfully
“I’m just teasing…”, she said sipping her cocktail
You spend the rest of the day in the pool, and by the end, you had an early dinner, and started sipping cocktails with Sara. Your godmother left you, and you both were alone to go to the club that was inside the resort.
You didn’t felt particularly in a party mode, and even though you were with Sara and you were having the best of times, you missed Cregan and Jace, there is some things that you’d rather do with them, like going out to a club, but you were determined to have a great time only with Sara.
The boys haden’t answered much, and you understood, they were driving, you really wished they would let you know when they arrived at their destination, but you didn't want to be pushy… or even come out as controlling
Maybe they were at a spot where they didn’t have a signal… those thick woods around the roads in the North were tricky, you really didn’t want to be concerned… it was a bit frustrating… not knowing what to say or do in this situations
You cared for Cregan and you wanted to talk to him, make sure he is good and having a good time
They barely answered to your video of Obryn Martell when you encountered him
IT WAS OBERYN MARTELL! He was everyone’s favourite actor/philanthropist/playboy/martial arts specialist/tv personality, and they barely answered!
You had to take a long breath
They were driving, haven’t even made it to Castle Cerwyn yet, probably
Your phone “dinged”, it was a text from Cregan
Just arrived at castle Cerwin to Ben’s house, everything is fine, ttyl
“That’s it?”, you asked Sara, as she was applying her lipstick, she read the text and raised an eyebrow
“Well, at least they are fine”, she said dismissively
“Nothing from Jace?”, you asked her
“I’m sure they are fine! Just tired! They had been driving all day”, she said mindlessly, and you wanted to be alright with them… lack of communication
You weren’t stuck to your phone all day either, right?
I’d love to “see” you later, videochat?
You typed, but you erased it before you hit send, you didn’t really want to be clingy.
You look at the mirror for the last time, you were looking fine, so was Sara, with simply dresses, hair loose, simple makeup, comfortable shoes
You had no expectation of the night whatsoever, only to have some Dornesy cocktails and have a real girls talk with your friend
You decided to go to a club a couple of hotels over, they say it was the most fun, you took a hotel van to the place, a method of transportation that was not going to be available later at night
The place was nice, over the beach, a nice looking bar, it was already night, so everything was lit up, outside with torches and other “tiki” looking decorations
You ordered a round of fruit-based drinks and you couldn’t stop chatting about everything you had seen and do for the last couple of days.
Sara had never travelled out of Winterfell before and she was looking at everything with wonder, it was actually refreshing, more so since you haven't been to the Watergardens before either, so it was all new to you too.
The people were nice, and very good looking, the sights were amazing, the Watergardens were some sort of an oasis in the middle of a desert, they were breathtaking
You were having the time of your life, with your godmother and your friend, and yet… you were missing someone, and you spent all day wondering what would it be like if Cregan was here with you, and Jace as well.
It was such a romantic place!
Even though you weren’t sure how comfortable you would be around Cregan wearing a bikini, but at the same time… you felt so… warm… just by thinking about it
You couldn’t wait to meet them in the lake, it was going to be such a great time!
Both your phones “dinged” at the same time, and you grabbed them together, it was a notification of a publication of Cregan and Jace, together.
You found it odd, but went to the publication
And paled
Your boyfriends had encountered the one and only…
“IS THAT…?”, You asked
“Margaery Tyrell”, muttered Sara, looking wide-eyed the photo they posted
“Impossible!”
“Well she was on a national tour!”
“Oh for the gods”
She wasn’t alone, she was with her best friend and also a singer… Jeyne Westerling
One for each
They seemed pretty cosy, judging by the background, they were in some restaurant
“Do they think they didn’t take it well that we met Oberyn Martell?”, she asked fearfully, you didn’t know what to think, what to do
Why didn’t he text you personally?
Why did he have to post it? Well, it was a collab with a friend, a friend posted it, but tagged them so, it wasn’t them, they were probably too busy just… chatting it up with two of the most gorgeous and talented women in the entire continent
“Oh gods”, Sara sighed, “should we call them?”, she asked
“No”, you said firmly, sipping on your cocktail, “we shouldn’t bother them”
“You don’t think they'll have dinner and party together, right?”, she asked fearfully
“No, no I don’t think so”, but when you better thought about it. They were two handsome, hunky, smart, kind, amazing young men and… They would be the biggest idiots if they wouldn’t
“I see concern in your face, should we be concerned?”, she asked, and then you shook your head
“They weren’t concerned about us and Oberyn, right? They are the boys!”, you said as it was obvious, “Cregan and Jace! Not any other!”, you said simply, “we took the video with Oberyn, and sent them a greeting because we knew they were fans as everyone else is, for the record, they did the same! I mean… if they saw Margaery and Jeyne and didn’t take pictures with them like… they are idiots!”, and now you were rambling
“You are rambling”, she said
You looked at your phone as if you could call Cregan with your mind, but it wasn’t working, they didn’t call you, they didn’t ask Margaery to send you a greeting.
Gods
It would be so much better if you could call him, call them, and talk, and hear how much they miss you, as much as you missed them.
“Let’s talk about something else”, Sara offered, ”they are not torturing us all day, we shouldn’t torture them”
“Yes! Yes”, you said simply, and you started talking about the plans for the remaining days.
But something was bugging you, in the back of your mind
It was probably the lack of texting from your boyfriend and best friend
And the very possibility they could be partying with the most perfect and famous person you had ever seen.
You both tried to keep your mind off of things, the place started to get crowded, and you lost your table as it was clear to set up a dance floor and now you were talking at the bar, snacking on Lys fries and still sipping on a new cocktail
Oh if you only notices how far you had moved from your cellphones in the bar
It had been a couple of hours, you had shooed away a couple of guys who were a little bit straightforward
“Want to dance?”, you asked her, and she nodded enthusiastically
“Yes! Let’s do it!”, you looked for your belonging in the bar… and nothing
“Where are our phones?”, you asked, searching frantically
“They were right here!”, she said, as scared as you were
“Dammit!”
You looked everywhere, asked all the bartenders, but nothing, someone took your phones
“We should go back to the hotel”, you said, the night a bit spoiled, you weren’t concerned, they were locked, and unlocking your phone and Sara's was impossible because of the making of the phone itself, but still…
“Yes, before it's too late to get a cab”, she muttered
. . .
“I can’t believe we met Margaery, she was so nice”, muttered Jace with a dreamlike expression on his face
“Yeah, who would have thought? Of all restaurant in the the city, that would have walked in the same one”, said Cregan
“The girls seemed oddly quiet though”, said Jace
“I didn’t send them the pic yet”, said Cregan
“Wait… Ben uploaded something”, said Jace, looking into his socials, “and Sara saw it”
“You have no more messages from her? I have nothing from (y/n)”, Spoke Cregan, now concern
“They wanted to talk but it was when we were in the HIghway entering the city and… it was messy, and we had started fighting!”, muttered Jace
“And then we barely texted them when we were greeting Ben and his ten siblings and his parents!”. Said Cregan
“We told them we couldn’t talk and then Ben uploaded a photo with Margaery Tyrell”
They shared concerned looks
“Are there any chances that they are angry… very angry… possibly contemplating calling back Oberyn Martell because they think we…”
“Yep”, answered Jace quickly
“Oh for the Gods!”, Cregan moaned, rubbing his face, “they hate us!”
“Nah, come on, they are… rational people… right?”, whined Jace, “they are not… criminally insane and go on a guy-kissing rampage only because we didn’t answer a text”
“You are right”, he said simply, “yes you are right, they are probably already in bed, and tired, you know, sunbathing is tiring, the sand like… steals your energy away, right?”
“Right! Right! Right!”
“Are you freaking out?”, asked Cregan
“No no, if anything we should be angry, they are not answering our texts… they are being childish!”
“Right!”
“Right, yes, because, what? They believe we stood a chance against Margaery and Jeyne? Like they would be remotely interested in us…?”,
“Well… they did ask us where we were staying”, said Cregan between greeted teeth
“We are so screwed”, muttered Jace, “we didn’t even tell them, meaning… they at least made Oberyn send us a greeting… right?”
“Oh gods”
“They must be so angry Cregan, I don’t want to lose Sara! I love her”
“I don’t want to loose my girl either, I love her too…”, and then, at that fundamental moment, they stopped their neurosis to look at each other
“YOU LOVE HER!?”, asked at the same time
“And we didn’t even got to tell them!”, said Cregan
“Gods”
“They must be so angry right now…”
“We will fix it, alright? Nothing happened!”, Jace tried to assure himself
. . .
“My feet hurt!”, whined Sara, and you were thinking the same thing, you were probably bleeding inside your high heel sandals
You couldn’t find a cab, of course, so you were walking back to the hotel
“Mine too”
“I want to sleep in that magnificent bed, I want to talk to my boyfriend”, she whined
“Me too”, you agreed
“Do you have your tablet? From there we can let them know our phones got stolen”
“Yes, and we need to get new ones in the morning”, you muttered, whining about your aching feet, “shouldn’t have we gotten there by now?”, you asked, looking around
“Yes, actually, the ride there was straight down the road, and then left..”, muttered Sara, “so naturally…”
“No, no it wasn't left, it was right, the side of the beach was the right”, you said
“Yes but remember the roundabout of the hotel? Makes you think that you are on the right, but it’s actually left”
‘I don’t understand”, you muttered, you looked around, and nothing looked similar, “no…”
“What?”, she asked
“We have been walking the wrong way!”, you whined
“Noooo!”
“YES!”
“DANG ITTTTT”
You were turning around, to go the other way, but suddenly… the most majestic sports car turned around the curb, and stopped right by your side
You couldn’t believe your eyes, it was actually Oberyn!
“Can’t believe my eyes! The northerner girls!”, he said, he wasn’t alone, he was accompanied by a gorgeous woman
“Hello Oberyn”, Sara greeted with the greatest smiled
“What are you doing here alone? Shouldn’t you be partying? Taking advantage of this beautiful city and its night life?”
“Yes we were but our phones got stolen, we couldn’t order a cab to go back to our hotel”, you said with a shy smile
“Say no more, get in”, he invited, the woman just looked at you and smiled… not kindly, but… it was nice nonetheless
You were going to say now, but if you took two more steps on those ridiculous shoes you decided to wear, you were going to cry
You shared looks with Sara and got in
“This is Ellaria… my wife”, he introduced
“WHAT!?”, you both asked at the same time, both relaxed and happy
“Nobody knows you have a wife!”, said Sara
“I know!”, he said with a big smile, she looked back at you both
“So, these are the girls you talked to me about, asking you to send a video to their boyfriends”, said for the first time Ellaria, she had this seductive, smooth voice, with the characteristic Dornish accent, and you couldn’t get over how beautiful she was
“Yeah! exactly, where did you say they are? Why aren’t they here with you!?”, he asked, almost scandalised, and he turned on his sports car and you started sliding through the streets of the Seaside resort of Sunspear… The Watergardens, “you know they do call this city… the city of love”, he giggled
“They wanted to do a roadtrip of the North, we are going to meet in the God’s Eye”, you said softly
“Oh, Riverland, nice”, he said, “I heard there is a festival there at the middle of summer, it was quite the event”
“Really?”, you asked
“Oh yeah, it was quite fun, the Lake Party, but it’s been a bore for the last couple of years”, contributed Ellaria
“Yeah, maybe we should go”, said Oberyn, Ellaria smiled
“Maybe we should”, she teased, “we can make it matter again”, they shared this significant look, like there was nothing else in this world but them, they were so in love, you could tell, they were both beautiful. It was barely a second, he was driving, but still…
You felt joy when you watched them, but… not envy or nothing like that, you…
Were watching what is what like to be with Cregan
Oh how you loved him
Wait… WHAT!?
“Here you are ladies”, he said happily, pulling the car to the hotel’s entry, it was of no surprise he knew which hotel it was, you had met at the club this morning
“Thank you so much Oberyn!”, Sara said
How could this happen? you were with one of the greatest stars of the century, and you only cared about Cregan, and how much you wished he was there with you.
“Let’s take a picture for the socials”, said Ellaria, taking a selfie with you both on the back seat and Oberyn and Ellaria smiling, “I’ll upload it, what are your users?”, she asked
You gave them your social media data, you couldn’t believe this was happening
“Thank you so much, both of you, thank you!”, you said with a grateful smile, “It would be so amazing if we meet again in the Lake!”
“So we can finally meet this boyfriends of yours”
“There must be something in the air, they met Margaery today, and Jeyne”, Sara told them, they shared concerned looks
“Really?”, and then they both looked back at you
“What?”, asked Sara
“Nothing, i’m sure it went well”, said Oberyn
“Oh come on!”, you said to him, “now i’m concerned”
“No!”, said Ellaria, sharing looks and kept repeating like a mantra, “no no no no”
“Ok you look for the picture… is under @BenTallheart999”, you commanded, she looked it up, his account was public, and saw the picture
“Oh, they are delicious!”, she adored
“Hey!”, teased Oberyn, with a big goofy smile, “You know what? let’s discuss this in the bar”
He was so chaotic and funny, you actually went to the hotel bar, you ordered drinks and snacks, and you spent two hours talking about Cregan, and Jace, and their relationship, they were actually giving you advice.
“I think you both need to downplay it, making them wait, and always be on guard”, said Ellaria, “that is how I caught this one!”, she teased pointing at Oberyn
“NOT TRUE!”, he said, “and no!”, he said pointing at you in warning, “it’s clear that these boys feel the same, jump all in!”
“NO!”, fought Ellaria, “you don’t want to give them the power”
“What if… now that we are not answering… they actually go somewhere with that pair of international stars!”, Sara said, concerned
“They will not!”, said Oberyn
“But we have barely talked since we parted ways!”, you said
“Because they are on a road trip! And you are in the pool or beach all day”, he tried to reason, “they understand, you understand, right?”
It was such a chaotic and wild night, you will definitely remember it
You went back to your room, your godmother probably asleep, in her own suit
You almost threw yourself on top of your tablet, and logged into your account
Messages started pouring in, and hundreds of requests to being followed since, of course, OBERYN MARTELL HAD TAGGED YOU ON A PHOTO
And you had several messages of Cregan
Hey love, are you alright?
Haven’t heard from you in a while”
Is everything alright?
I don’t want to sound… or actually… seen controlling but, we are getting a bit worried
Maybe you are sleeping
I miss you
The last text reached you like twenty minutes ago, so you texted back quickly
Cregan! I never meant to worry you, Sara and I went for a drink in a nearby club, and our phones got stolen!
We are back in the hotel
You won’t believe who brought us back!
Oberyn Martell again! AND HIS WIFE, it was bananas
Are you guys alright?
“Give me!”, demanded Sara, and you gave her the tablet, and she logged in her own account
“A couple of concerned messages from Jace”, she muttered
I swear nothing happened with Margaery, or Jeyne, they were great, but nothing happened
Are you angry?
Please don’t be…
I miss you terribly
Please give us a sign that you are alright
“We need to talk to them”, you said
But for tonight? You went to sleep, you were so, so tired
The very next morning, over orange juice, and a big breakfast… you both decided to call Cregan and Jace
“Hey loves!”, as soon as you saw them, you felt relieved.
“Hey girls!”
“We miss you!”, said Jace
You were placed next to Sara, and you couldn’t wait to tell them everything that had happened over the last days, they had been so chaotic
“Our phones got stolen last night!”, you said quickly
It was all fine, and you couldn’t believe you ever doubted them, they were Jace and Cregan, your boys! You only needed to talk to them, Oberyn was right…
It was all good
So… it was so good, you spent the next few days enjoying the pool, the beach, your godmother, eating in the most delicious restaurants, and having the time of your life, taking a long breath of fresh air…
Recharging your batteries after life-altering decisions you had made this year… and especially… to make you think about what you wanted, and where you wanted to go…
And who you wanted to go with you
Cregan
Sara
Jace
Your Godmother, the most important people in your life, and this trip helped you realise that, you were so, extremely happy
You wanted to enjoy those days with your godmother, she invited you here, she wanted to see you, it was mean of you to want to leave because Cregan wasn’t here, so… you were here now, and you enjoyed it to the last second.
Sara, who had never been outside of the North, was seeing everything for the first time and it was so refreshing! She was extremely grateful, and you talked to the boys everyday for an hour about everything they did that day
They were excited, they learned how to properly see a map, because they didn’t want to rely on their phones as much, they sometimes stopped to camp, yes, actually camp, set a campfire, and roast marshmallows, they say they were practising for the summer at the lake, because you were going to have a lot of that.
This was only just beginning
After chapter notes: Oberyn Martell in this universe is like… if Jackie Chan had a lovechild with Robert Downey Jr’s Tony Stark 😂
Sorry if it wasn't that exciting... perhaps I'm saving myself for the next one
TAGLIST!
@mxtokko @princesssterek @thefandomimagines @iamavailablesstuff @misspascalpunk @sweethoneyblossom1 @ipostwhtifeel @lunamoonbby @ahristata @watercolorskyy @yazzzmints @n4tforlife @littleshadow17 @alexa4040 @speedyballoonpainter @hc-geralt-23 @rayrayredpanda @eralen @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @iloveallmyboys @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm @ttkttt @aleemendoza2425-blog @drwstarkeyy @casualfansoul @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bruher @@toms-cherry-trees @happinessinthebeing @warmness0ul @jennifer0305 @missusnora @a-beaverhausen @snowtargaryen @qu44nbl4ck @juhdoche
#misguidedneed#cregan x reader#cregan stark x you#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark#cregan#hbo house of the dragon#house of the dragon
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
I just watched s2 episode 10 in the english dub and I have to say. Nothing could have prepared me for Howard's delivery of that final scene where Xie Lian gets worked up about the truth coming out.
The just...sincerely agonized delivery of "That my words were the empty ramblings of a sad child!!" shook me to the core. The absolute self-loathing in that line, the raw emotion. The way concealing the truth was done to spare Lang Qianqiu but also at its heart was about Xie Lian's unresolved feelings of humiliation and shame, the way [redacted] did everything in his power to make Xie Lian lose faith in himself and the possibility of good prevailing in the world.
The way TGCF keeps me up at night, man...
#tgcf#xie lian#lang qianqiu#the runner-up line that devastated me too was: 'it's the least of what I DESERVE!!!'#i dont think there are words to describe how that made hua cheng feel knowing all that he does (from his time as wu ming)#legitimately its on the spectrum of mantis shrimp im guessing bc i can't fathom trying to put it into words either#the way xie lian won't stop punishing himself for wishing for better--for wishing for peace and collaboration--even 800 years later#the way he continues to take responsibility for all the wrongs others commit--the way he deems himself a failure ->#for things he simply could not change or did not purposefully incite. the way he won't stop punishing himself when things go wrong#i honestly cant get over how acutely xl feels like the result of gifted child syndrome#having all of these grandiose expectations placed on him and doing his utmost to uphold them at any cost#doing everything he can to the point of self-destruction to do the right thing#only to end up hated in the end when he proved to have limits--even as a god#and discarded despite his efforts; ultimately deemed worthless for not measuring up to what were impossible/rigged standards from the get g#and like . the way up to this point they made the creative decision to make xie lian's emotional range fairly static#not that he's unfeeling but that he doesn't tend to raise his voice or express anything extreme (for good reason)#until this precise moment where it all comes flying apart with so many old scars torn open#absolutely fantastic im on the ground#honestly i feel like i forget how difficult a decision this had to be for hua cheng#i mean naturally he chose this because he wanted xie lian absolved#and ultimately xie lian really does need to stop the self-flagellation--he takes it too far#but watching him tremble with fear haunted by the echoes of what he almost became#fucking cHRIST
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
me when the bacteria c o l o n i s e s
#m a n. i thought that the sample would turn out negative for bacteria (like the rest have been for the past. what. year and a quarter(?))#esp since the agar testing stick things used were freshly expired (thanks for the expired reagents workplace; cost cutting ftw!!!!)#but. ewwwwwwwwwwww it actually grewwwwwwwwwwww#and the small stick thing was covered from like top to bottom in countless dark red colonies. ewwwwwwwwww#all the other agar stick things were completely clean though so it was def a problem with the sample and not with my handling of the agar#in any case!!!!!!! it was the first time i saw a positive for bacteria growth on a sample and!!!!#it was also my first time reporting the results for this test!!!! without any of the test-familiar staff around!!! so!!!!! not fun!!!!!!!!#i didn’t even k n o w what they meant when they asked to ‘describe the colour/appearance of the colonies’ bc the managers’ expectations are.#just. *weird*. sometimes. ughhhhhh im ready for the inevitable groupchat callout on tuesday with ‘who taught you to report like this????’s#well e x c u s e me for not knowing sir you never taught me how to report colony growths or anything auauaaaaaaaaaa#but is ok!!!!!! i’m taking tuesday off anyway!!!! it’ll be the tuesday workers’ problem now!!!!!!!! good luck guys!!!!!!!#at least there was no fungi either… now *that* would’ve been extra gross#the bio class flashbacks were r e a l today… thank god i don’t ever have to open that stupid pharmacopoeia ever again#also reminds me of (one of) my stupidest moments in a bio class though…#back in the days of yore (read: anatomy class in the year of ‘17) i was an absolutely horrible student who’d never fail to nap in class#so when my lecturer asked connecting questions down the class register…#yk stuff like asking student 1 to ‘name a type of cell’ and then asking student 2 to ‘name an organelle that a [student 1’s cell] contains’#he asked the girl before me to name a hormone. she answered ‘growth hormone’. and i was like. dammit. idk where it’s found. lolhelp.#(bc i never read ahead either + the growth hormone didn’t even show up in lessons during that school term)#so when he inevitably asked me to ‘name the organ that produces the growth hormone’ i answered (exact quote) ‘i don’t know; the ovaries????’#the class laughed. sad. the lecturer retorted with sth like ‘then are you saying that boys can’t grow?’ and i just shrugged#the girl after me (who incidentally has the same first+last name as me phonetically speaking) gave him the right answer thoughhhh#i hope i managed to buy my name twin enough time to look up the correct answer (if she didn’t already know it) with my stupid guess#yeahhhhhh i do n o t miss bio class. at all. giggity#anyways that’s enough flashback sequences for one year. can’t believe the next year’s less than 10 days away tbh. can’t wait!!!!!!!!
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.
Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind:
1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge?
2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.
Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing.
Word count. 9.0k
A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.
Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.
With a capital h.
Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.
Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly.
The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air.
Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.
Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome.
What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.
Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?
Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real?
You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.
But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique.
“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable.
“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot.
You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks.
Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”
You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo?
In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.
God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol.
“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.
You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.
Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-”
And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.
Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine.
And then it’s all black.
To match his eyes.
---
The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact.
Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into?
Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment.
Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful.
And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that.
With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.
And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”
You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”
Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.”
You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-”
“It’s al-”
“I swear I’ve seen ankles-”
A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.”
And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about.
Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”
And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling.
As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.
You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso.
It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.
You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye.
Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve.
At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.
“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-
Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.
Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.
…
Nahhh.
Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.
Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.
And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again.
His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.
Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.
So he does have nipple piercings.
God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.
As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.
The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through.
Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.
“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.
Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,”
You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”
His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”
“Oh, it’s on now.”
“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.
Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.
---
Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.
Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him.
But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.
Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”
“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”
Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”
Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that-
A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.
Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…
Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory.
Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.
So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.
Like, right now.
Shit.
With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.
And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.
With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you.
Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.
With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock.
Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.”
Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-
He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock?
One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well.
Or maybe…
Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins.
Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”
“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him.
All for him.
It’s too much.
“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.”
Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon.
Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind.
Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand.
Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.
But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.
Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could.
“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”
“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”
You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him.
You.
And then he’s cumming.
A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-
You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.
You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.
Shit.
Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.
But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him.
Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-
…
God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow.
Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course.
Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.
…
Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved.
Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.
Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.
At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.
Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.
And you didn’t mind?
In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-
Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?
You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-
Click!
You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.
---
You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies
And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.
But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.
You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.
Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt.
Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time.
It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.
“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R.
It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.
You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?
And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right?
It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.
Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.
Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.
Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.
Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.
Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.
This was absolute torture.
“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.
His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”
You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”
Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success.
“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.
You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him.
A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm.
“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”
His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.
You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”
It was like something snapped.
Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.
Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.
He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.
Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.
You minx.
Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.
God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.
Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.
“Kiss me, you fool.”
And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.
With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing.
You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”
Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”
“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.
Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.
Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting.
“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue.
“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that.
Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-
Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.
Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.
You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire.
Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously.
And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?”
You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”
Smack!
The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.
“What was it, sweetheart?”
You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”
“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions.
God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”
And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples.
Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping.
Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.
Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing.
“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips.
He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.
Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face.
He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”
Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-
His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.
“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue.
Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”
As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.
Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water.
Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.
So you do.
Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide.
“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need.
You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you.
And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue.
“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”
Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs.
You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could.
Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life.
A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.
He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl.
Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”
“Feels perfect.”
But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.
Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.
Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.
Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-
Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.
Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips.
Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.
So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same.
Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat.
Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later.
Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face.
You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt.
“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.
And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well.
“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him.
Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more.
You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty.
And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.
The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.
“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”
A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”
Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.
Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.
You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock.
And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass.
“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them.
Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?
“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.
And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”
The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”
His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?
“Wha-”
And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.
Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.
Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him.
But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.
There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.
Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason.
“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.
“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”
You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.
And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders.
Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more.
Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him, “More? My sweetheart wants more?”
And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get.
“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.
And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.
Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”
“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.
“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”
You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”
You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”
“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.
And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.
Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”
“I know.”
“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”
“Choso, just kiss me.”
And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you.
And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut.
White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.
It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want.
As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully.
A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.
In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.
Too afraid to break you.
To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.
And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.
“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually.
“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves.
Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”
“Nope.”
Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed.
“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.”
Except maybe those.
You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.
Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.
“Well, we still have time so how about-”
A distant click!
“Honey, we’re home~!”
Shit.
A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#choso x reader#choso smut#choso x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#choso#tonywrites#choso kamo
11K notes
·
View notes
Text
wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1
genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...
word count: 3.6k
It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this
auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!
nsfw warnings under the cut!
18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie
It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day.
To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.
The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—
“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.
His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”
“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.
You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes.
“What about Max?”
Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”
“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.
“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”
—
The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.
Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.
His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.
OK, nice. Did u need something?
No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?
Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.
I thought we agreed no contact unless business
He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.
Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.
Yeah. Got a drink.
I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.
How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.
Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit
Yeah? I missed you today.
Really?
A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.
He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?
You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading.
So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.
The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.
And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.
It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.
I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.
He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.
So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.
He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.
In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.
He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.
The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.
He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.
You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.
Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.
His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”
One week later
“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”
The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.
You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka.
Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.
“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”
You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”
“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”
“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”
“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”
“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.
“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”
“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”
He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”
“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.
“Wanna test that out? Come play.”
Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.
“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.
“You got it wrong. Teaching.”
He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.
If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.
You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?
You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.
Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.
“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh.
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.
You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—
“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.
“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.
“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.
“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.
“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.
“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward.
“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.
“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.
“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”
“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.
“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.
It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed.
He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.
“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”
“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.
“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control.
“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”
“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time.
“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”
His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.
“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.”
Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.
“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.
“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.”
You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.
#f1#max verstappen#max verstappen smut#max verstappen imagines#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x reader#f1 x reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
cod twt visuals part 3
WARNINGS : NSFW, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, f!reader, the links are literally p#rn, proceed at your own risk
CHARACTERS: ghost, soap, gaz, alejandro, price, könig, keegan
If the links don't work for you try logging in on twt, or opening the links from your phone's browser
ghost
❥ ghost bouncing you up and down his cock while you take a shower together- it started out innocent enough, with you just washing each other, but as his hand brushed past your breasts, his cock immediately twitched, hardening fast against your belly and he cursed under his breath, apologizing nd saying that he ruined a soft moment- but you just shake your head, "I've been wet for a while now.. you're so pretty Simon," he almost LOOOOOSES his mind
❥ anal with ghost:)
❥ p sure this one was also in a previous part but it's sOOOO GOOODDDDD like this is exactly how i envision ghost would fuck, holding you by the waist, with your back arched, nd all you can do is moan<33 "Jeeesus.. fuckin' look at you,"
soap
❥ THISSSS BUT HE'S WEARING HIS GHOST MASK yeah, no yeah. goes absolutely feral when you start throwing your ass back at him, "Oh fuck, baby yeah..." "Get that dick,"
❥ soap doing what he does best- sucking your tits and fingering you at the same timee, loves when you grab him by the hair and angle his head upwards, so that you can push your mouth against his, panting against his lips as you make out, hips grinding down on his fingers "Fuckin' love these tits, fuuck,"
❥ riding soap:(((( he's being such a good boy for once and lets you take charge<3
gaz
❥ kyle is a certified pussy eater and i won't hear anything different- he LIVES to go down on you, sucking and lapping at your cunt with a smirk on his face. Sometimes when he feels a lil cheeky he'll try to talk to you without pulling back- and his words get all muffled, and it's the lewdest thing ever, "S fcking goodmmf baaaby, God." "Why do you taste so good, huh?"
❥ he loooves touching you over your panties that's it that's the post
❥ yup yup yup
alejandro
❥ he's a groaner and we all know this
❥ no but imagine you rile him up so bad that he gets fucking rough with you, fucking you dumb till you stop being a brat- making sure to grab you by the throat the minute you start running your mouth again
❥ more rough alejandro omfg.🤭
price
❥ you ALREADY KNOWWWW side fucking with price<33333
❥ price fucking you in the car immediately after you come and pick him up from the base after mooonths of not seeing each other:( "Christ, I missed you honey.." "Did you miss me, hm? Miss this cock?"
❥ SAME VID AS IN THE FIRST PART I THINK, but some of yall cant open it so maybe you can from this one<3
❥ try not to get caught fucking on base with price FAILED again bc of how loud you're both moaning, and he still thinks y'all are being careful 💀 pls (ghost is literally traumatized and avoids eye contact with you at all costs)
könig
❥ please, PLEASE let könig fuck your thighs, he'll go feral omfg
❥ not a visual, but könig touching himself nd thinking about you???? yeah you best believe he's loud af. Pretty baby almost cries when he makes himself cum, all the while thinking that it's your pussy that's taking it all in<3
❥ könig always makes sure he preps you well, and what better way than to use his mouth??
bonus
keegan
❥ keegan can never help himself whenever he wakes up next to you, you just look too fucking good- his cock hardening at the sight of you, still naked from the night before and he curses, his hands sliding down your back to cup your ass, whispering against your neck "Wake up baby.. I need you,"
❥ no cause why would keegan do this?? he's a fucking menace i just know it
❥ he would have cum inside you anyway, but the fact that you asked for it? it makes his mind fog up, literally can't think of anything else besides you and how fucking good your pussy feels around his cock<3
<3
#cod smut#cod x reader#cod mw2 smut#cod mw2 x reader#mw2 x reader#mw2 smut#cod visuals#mw2 visuals#john price x reader#john price smut#price x reader#price smut#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#ghost x reader#ghost x reader smut#ghost smut#soap x reader#soap x reader smut#john mactavish x reader#john mactavish x reader smut#john mactavish smut#konig x reader#konig x reader smut#alejandro vargas x reader#keegan russ x reader#kyle garrick x reader#gaz x reader#gaz x reader smut#keegan russ smut
6K notes
·
View notes
Note
Texting bf's dad hotch by accident when you're drunk and trying to get your bf to pick you up...
this idea >>>>
also aaron has another son besides jack in this
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
They were just a few margaritas. You didn’t expect a casual girl’s night to turn into a pounding headache and a room that was spinning around you.
It was fun and your friends wanted to stay longer, but your upset stomach would not let you enjoy the rest of your night. You were more than ready to get out of there.
“I’m gonna ask my boyfriend to come pick me up,” you told your friends, who seemed a bit too drunk to process your words.
As carefully as you could, you made your way outside the bar, and took your phone out of your purse. Going through your contacts you stopped when you spotted your boyfriend’s name.
‘Babe can you come and pick me up? I can’t drive’
You hit send, and right after, you shared your location with him.
‘I’ll be there in 20.’
Oh.
That was it? No whining? No scolding you for drinking too much? No complaining about you being an inconvenience?
It was a full moon; maybe he was going through some kind of transformation.
You closed your eyes for a bit and rested your head against the wall. The minutes would simply not pass fast enough. I’m never drinking again, you thought.
Your phone buzzed in your hands and a new message flashed across the screen.
‘I’m here.’
You were ready to lift your head and search for his car, but your eyes were glued on the contact name that appeared above the text you had just received.
It didn’t say Mark. It said Mark’s dad.
No way, you thought. No way, I asked Aaron Hotchner to come pick me up from a bar because I’m wasted.
But that was exactly what you had done.
The word embarrassment didn’t even begin to cover the range of emotions you were feeling at that moment; especially as you watched him get out of his car and walking towards you.
Why did he have to look so good? As if drunk texting him wasn’t embarrassing enough, he had to look like a god in a suit that cost more than your monthly rent.
‘Mr. Hotchner,” you said, when he approached you. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to text you. I wanted to text Mark, but I got confused and God…I’m so, so dizzy.”
His expression stayed serious, but he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Let’s get in the car.”
Aaron opened the door for you and held your hand so you could get inside. You expected him to close the door but instead he leaned over you and fastened your seatbelt for you.
Your heart started jumping around at the smell of his cologne and the feeling of his face so close to yours. You weren’t proud of it, but Aaron Hotchner was your forbidden desire. And the star of more dirty dreams than you’d ever dare to admit.
His thick fingers brushed against your stomach as he made sure that your seatbelt was tight enough to keep you safe.
You shut your eyes and took a deep breath trying to calm your body down.
“Are you alright?” he asked, softly.
His deep voice was the cherry on top that had you melting on your seat.
“Yeah,” you answered weakly. “Just dizzy.”
He closed the door and made his way to the other side, and soon he was on the driver’s seat.
There was a small water bottle in the cup holder and he picked it up. “Here,” he offered, “Have some water. It’ll help.”
“Thank you,” you said taking it from his hands, and shivered at the contact when your fingers brushed.
The bottle was half empty which meant he already had some of it before you. He had wrapped his lips around it; around where your lips were now.
You devoured any water that was left and realized how bad you needed to get hydrated. “I needed that.”
“I can tell,” he laughed. “Come on,” he added, and started the car. “Let’s take you home.”
“Were you asleep?”
“Hm?””
“When I texted you. Did I wake you up?” you asked with a worried tone.
“I rarely sleep, honey. You don’t have to worry about me.”
You pressed your thighs together at the sound of the pet name and the sight of his hands around the wheel.
“Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course,” he said. “You needed me.”
“I did,” you said, breathless. “Mark would…”
You paused.
“Go on.”
You hesitated. “He would have probably told me to call a cab.”
“He’d let his girl get in the car with a stranger in the middle of the night? When she’s drunk?”
“Sometimes he gets upset with things like that. And, listen, I get it. I can be trouble sometimes.”
“Oh you can be,” Aaron said. “But not for the reasons you think.”
“What do you mean?”
He ignored your question, but it didn’t take too long before he spoke again.
“I’m gonna have a word with him. He’s not treating you well.”
“No, please don’t.”
The only thing that talk would achieve would be Mark getting upset with you.
There was a long pause, and you took advantage of the silence to stare at him. His side profile, his hands, his arms. He was perfect.
‘I wish Mark was more like you,” you said before thinking any better.
“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t say things like that.”
“I could say way worse.”
He chuckled. “Unless you want both of us to get in trouble, don’t.”
“But-”
Aaron reached out to hold your hand, making you go quiet. “You’re drunk. But what I do want you to know is that I’m always here, okay?”
“Okay.”
He squeezed your hand and didn’t let go the entire ride home.
part 2
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
You’ve Never What? (Dean Winchester)
Description: Y/N has never rode anyone’s face before and Dean is shocked.
Warning: Face Riding, Age Gap
Word Count: 1,531k
I sat at the table eating alongside Dean and Sam. I made us mac and cheese because we’ve been having take out all week and I wanted something different. The boys and I were pretty close, almost like a family but I certainly didn’t view them as family. They were both so hot but one of them caught my eye more than the other. Dean. He was older than me, sure but only 14 years. He was strong and muscular and oh my god his voice? I could get off to the sound of him talking. He was so hot and he knew it which was why he talked to the why he did. Anytime he saw a pretty woman he had to voice it and say what dirty things he wanted to do to her.
It made Sam and I roll my eyes but we were rolling them for different reasons. Sam was annoyed and didn’t wanna hear his brother talk about that stuff and I was annoyed he wasn’t talking about me. But why would he? He probably has zero interest in me. “Y/N are you okay?” I snapped out of it and looked at Sam. “Yeah sorry.” I said and went back to eating. “Man, I would love to be on the beach right now with some hot chicks.” Dean said. Sam and I look at him. “A hot girl sitting on your face. It’s the dream isn’t it?” I shrugged at him. “I don’t know, I've never done it.” I said.
Sam looked at me with his eyebrows raised and Dean’s jaw dropped. “You never what?” He asked in shock. I shrugged. “Being with you guys the past 5 years I haven’t really had time.” I say. “Before then?” He asked. I shook my head. “Well sweetheart if you want to just ask.” He said. It was my turn to be shocked and I squeaked out a “what?” Sam got up with his bowl and walked to his room. I didn’t blame him. “If you ever want to experience it just ask.” My face was red. “Oh come on. I see how you look at me sweetheart. I’m not an idiot.” He says. I just stare at him too shocked and embarrassed to even process what is going on. “Dean, what if this ruins our friendship?” I asked after a few minutes. “I won’t let it.” He says. How could he be so sure? “You can’t know that it won’t.” I whisper. He gets up with his bowl. “The offer still stands.” He shrugs.
I sat in my room on my bed thinking about what he said, what he offered. It would be a dream but at what cost? I didn’t use to do anything and it would be awkward after. I had a pretty good relationship with him, I didn’t want that to be over because of hormones. I really liked Dean too. I didn’t just want us to do sexual stuff, I wanted something real with him. But the more I thought about it the more I realized what if this was my only opportunity to be with him in any way? If he thinks it won’t affect our relationship then maybe it won’t.
A knock at the door snapped me out of my thoughts again. I got up from my bed and opened the door revealing the man I was just thinking about. “Hey Sam bought some pie if you want some.” He suggested. “Yeah sure.” I say and walk out of my room. I followed him into the kitchen where the pie was. It looked and smelled delicious. “You want me to get you a slice?” He asked, grabbing a knife to cut the pie with. “Yes please.” I say. I sat at the table and watched as he cut two slices of the pie for us. He brought them over and sat down next to me. “Thank you.” I say and start eating the pie.
We ate in silence for a while but I was thinking too much about the conversation earlier. Dean seemed to notice. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” He said. I looked at him. He didn’t make me uncomfortable, just made my feelings worse. I shook my head. “No you didn’t but I think…I wanna take you up on your offer.” I say. “Are you sure?” He asked. I nodded. “Yes.” Before I could say or do anything he leaned over and kissed me. Catching me off guard. It took me a minute but I kissed back. Our lips moved together at the table and he pulled me closer. His arms wrapped around me pulling me into his lap. I straddled him as our lips didn’t stop. My hands run through his hair and his hands run up and down my back. Wherever Sam was I only hoped that he didn’t walk in on this. I pulled at his shirt wanting him to take it off. He pulled away from the kiss. “Not here. In my room.” He said against my lips.
I nodded and got off him. He took my hand and dragged me to his room. He closed the door and took off his shirt revealing his beautiful body to me. “Take off your clothes, sweetheart.” He told me. I took off my big shirt revealing my matching bra and panties to him. I looked at him as he walked up to me. “Wow. You’re so beautiful.” He says and cups my face. I stare at him and look at his lips as he leans down and kisses me. This was a different kiss than the one we had in the kitchen. This one was more passionate and slow and not so lustful. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned up to deepen the kiss. “Jump.” He mumbled into the kiss. He caught me and I wrapped my legs around him. He turned us around and fell onto the bed with me on top. I pulled away to catch my breath. His eyes stared into mine and his hands ran up and down my thighs. “Take off your panties.” He tells me and I do, throwing them somewhere in his room. I straddled him once more and he tugs me up his body.
My nerves grew as I got closer and closer to his face. He smirked up at me and my breath got heavier. “It’s okay sweetheart.” He tells me in a soft voice. I nodded and he helped me to where I was hovering over his face. I looked down at him and I saw my juices drip onto him. I gasped in embarrassment and went to apologize. “No need. Your juices are going to be all over my face.” He winks. I let out a breath I was holding in and he lowered me onto his face. I gasp as I feel his hot breath tickle my area and his nose settle on my clit. “Fuck.” I gasped. His tongue began swirling my hole making me let out a little moan.
I didn’t have anything to grasp onto so I laced my fingers through his hair. His tongue entered me a little, making me moan louder than I wanted to. His hands that were gripping my hips started moving me. My clit was dragging on his nose and his tongue was moving in and out of me. My moans grew as I let myself ride his face. Though his tongue couldn’t go super deep into me but it still felt good. His nose was perfect for riding and I took a mental note of that. With my clit constantly bumping into it my high was very close. I moan his name over and over like I was praying to the man below me.
He hummed against me making vibrations course through me. “Dean fuck i’m really really close.” I whimpered. He sped up his movements and within seconds I came all over his tongue and nose. My hips stuttered on his face as I rode my high. Once I became over sensitive I pushed myself off his face with shaky legs. He helped me stay up as he smirked at me. I gasped seeing his face covered in my orgasm. He licked his lips and hummed. “Are you okay?” He asked me. I nodded and chuckled. “Yeah definitely.” He helps me off him and I collapse next to him. “I’m glad you enjoyed that.” He winked.
I laughed and looked up at the ceiling. “That really was amazing.” I whispered. “You can have my tongue and nose anytime you want.” He tells me. I looked over at him and he was already looking at me. “I know that I talk about women a lot and I know you and Sam hate it but I really like you and I want something more than just this.” He motioned to what we just did. I was shocked that he returned my feelings. “I like you too Dean. And yeah I was hoping that this wouldn’t have been a one time thing either.” I say. He smiles and leans in and kisses me.
#supernatural imagine#supernatural#spn#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester smut#jensen ackles#sam winchester#supernatural smut
525 notes
·
View notes
Text
sunset anew | dick grayson
Summary: You're a little nervous to become the Mrs. Grayson. Luckily, your husband-to-be knows just what to say to soothe your worries.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader
Word count: 1.7k
Warnings/tags: wedding, anxious reader, the batfam actually gets along, fluff!! (dick is my wife.)
If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡
the divider
Contrary to popular belief, Gotham isn't a complete eyesore.
Sure, it's no vacation spot, and it's probably not the ideal place to settle down. But there are beautiful parts within the grunge.
Your wedding planner had shown you multiple locations, from Napa to the Bahamas. Bruce had insisted cost was no problem.
But that wasn't what made you choose Gotham.
Your forearms rest on the polished stone-top railing that surrounds the rooftop of the nicest hotel in the city. Thirty-two floors, all rented out for you.
You look down at the tiny cars and people below. Your heart swoops.
Your heels are in one hand. The sun crests the horizon; soon, yellow will melt into buttery orange and pink. It’s the first sunset you knew. The only sunset you know. And it’s the same one you saw the first time you met your almost-husband.
You'd come up here so you wouldn't miss it. Just this one time.
“Found her!”
You jump as the roof access door opens. Damian and Duke walk out. Duke gives you a warm smile.
"Jesus, you guys," you say, hand on your chest. “Way to scare a girl.”
“Sorry. You look really nice,” Duke says, smoothing his bowtie.
Damian crosses his arms, clearly unimpressed.
“Frightening you is the least of our concerns. We thought you’d run. Which would be understandable, considering the family you’re marrying into, but Father spent a lot renting the hotel. Plus, Grayson would’ve been inconsolable, and extremely annoying.”
“Dude,” Duke says, elbowing Damian. “Chill out. It’s not like she was actually going to leave him at the altar.” He squints at you. “Were you?”
“No! I wasn’t going to leave him at the altar, oh my God.”
Damian nods. “Good." He taps his watch and speaks into it. "Grayson, our work is done. Come to the roof.”
Duke gives you a wave and they wordlessly leave the way they came. You sigh and start to slip your heels back on. There’s some whispering at the bottom of the stairs, and Damian shouts “no!” before it’s silent.
You have one heel on when Dick emerges.
He’s unfairly handsome in his tux, hair somehow both neat and tousled. He also has what looks to be Damian’s tie wrapped around his eyes. You step out of your heel, unsure.
"Hey, sweetheart," he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to scare you."
"It’s okay, baby. Why are you blindfolded?"
"Bad luck to see the bride, duh."
You can't help your idiotic grin at that. "I think it'll be fine, Gray. You didn’t have to take his tie.”
"Maybe you haven't met my family; we're not known for our good luck streaks.”
"I'm madly in love with you,” you say, feeling gooey.
Dick beams, and you nearly forget about the sunset altogether.
"I'm madly in love with you too."
You kiss him and he blindly returns it, following your lips even after you step back. You cluck your tongue and nudge him away. He obeys, though not without sliding his hand onto your waist and tugging you away from the roof. You follow because he's such a worrier.
Dick reaches for your hand and squeezes.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah. Sorry I disappeared. I didn’t know the calvary would be sent after me.”
“Yeah, uh…” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Again. I got worried.”
The guilt sinks its claws deeper. You frown and touch his cheek.
“I would never leave you at the altar, Dick.”
“I know! I know that. They’re idiots; don’t listen to ‘em, whatever they said."
You cup his face with both hands and kiss him again. He squeezes your wrists and you can feel the relief rolling off him in waves, as much as he tries to hide it.
“Was my absence noticeable?” you ask.
"Just to us. Don’t worry about it. The Wayne family are professional crowd entertainers."
"I take it Bruce is doing card tricks?"
"Yep,” Dick says. “He’s pretty good too. Might retire the suit."
You laugh. "Sorry I'm missing it."
"Trust me, you'll get your fill soon."
“We can go down now,” you offer, even though you’re still waiting for that sunset.
He shakes his head. “There’s no rush.”
You smile and rest your head on Dick's shoulder. He accepts you instantly and wraps his arm around your waist.
"You feel really beautiful," he says.
"Charmer."
"I'm serious!"
"I know. That's why I'm so damn sweet on you, Gray."
"I've got a shot with you, then?" he asks.
"Oh, big time."
He nuzzles your neck. You breathe in his scent: wine from earlier, detergent, the hair gel he uses to effortlessly capture the bed head look.
"We didn't have to do this today, you know,” he says, voice vibrating through you.
You pick your head up in alarm.
"What're you talking about?"
"If-if you're getting cold feet, I mean," he adds. "Second thoughts. We can always reschedule."
"Dick, no, I'm not getting second thoughts. I want to marry you today. I will marry you, okay? We've been together for almost four years."
"So? You know how long Batman and Catwoman have been skirting around each other? We've all got a wager going. Including Alfred!"
You snort. "Okay, well, excuse me if I don't want your family to bet on how long it's going to take us to marry."
"Afraid that ship's sailed."
"Of course it has."
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. His arms drape over your hips. You trace the shape of his lips with your index, up his Cupid's bow and up the tip of his nose. Dick has such a lovely nose. You've always thought so.
“So who bet that I’d actually made a run for it?”
“That feels like a trick question,” he says.
“Jason?"
“Jason adores you, actually. He didn’t doubt your loyalty once.”
“Damian had his doubts."
“Damian's thirteen, he doesn’t know shit.”
You snort and kiss his cheek. “Well, I forgive him. He was protecting you, that’s all.”
"If it helps, everyone else was certain of your loyalty," Dick says, letting you paw at his face. “Myself included.”
"That does help, actually.”
Dick stops your hand in its journey and rests your palm on his cheek.
"What were you thinking about?" he asks quietly.
You stiffen a little. "Nothing. Just needed some air."
"You sure?"
You know what he's doing: feeling your pulse to see if it changes, listening to your breathing, watching if your shoulders tense. He's a detective first, and a damn good one.
You slump in defeat.
"What if I'm not… good at this? At being… us?”
"What?" Dick asks in disbelief. "What are you talking about? Of course you’ll be good at it. The real worry is me, babe. I mean, you're incredible. I'm the one who runs around in spandex at night."
"Gray, I'm serious," you say, resting your head on his heart. "All those people who’ve been watching us, waiting for the future Mrs. Grayson to slip up. I just—I can't help but wonder if it's prophetic. I wonder if maybe you deserve more."
"Hey. Now I can't predict the future. But even if I could, I don't believe there is a timeline out there where I could ever want or need anyone but you. And you're not alone in this, you know? I'm scared too. I'm terrified I'm putting you in danger. Of fucking up completely. But I also know that sometimes… we get good things, you know? It's not all doom and gloom. I mean, you being in my life is proof of that."
God, he always knows how to make your heart ache just right.
"I really want us to work," you whisper, clutching his suit coat. "I just don't wanna let you down, Gray."
"Baby," Dick says, curling around you. "Sweetheart, where did this come from? What makes you think that? You've never let me down, not once. I love you. It's okay if you feel like you don't know what you're doing, 'cause I don't know either."
You reach to untie the tie. Dick lightly grabs your hand, but you continue to tug anyway.
"Wait, babe—"
"Dick, it's okay. I want to see your eyes. Please?"
He lets you pull it off. He squints at the light, adjusting. Then his gaze drops to you and his lips part.
"Wow," Dick says, hands sliding up your arms.
You smile. "Like it? Selina helped me pick the dress, so it's all thanks to her."
"Fuck, baby. I wanna marry you right now. Screw everyone down there. Let's elope."
You laugh, combing back his hair with your fingertips and tucking loose strands behind his ears.
"Gray, you know we can't do that. What about Bruce? He'd be devastated and more than rightfully pissed."
He shrugs. "So what? I'm the favorite, I can get away with it."
"Well, what about Alfred? You'd break his heart."
Dick pauses, mulling that over. You kiss his chin.
"Damn it," he says. "You're right. I couldn't do that to him. He's arguably more excited about our wedding than we are."
"Mmhm. But I appreciate your attempt to be spontaneously romantic," you say, smiling.
Dick tugs you closer still, rubbing your back.
"I would elope," he says. "If you really wanted to. You could convince me to do just about anything. Even if it unleashed Alfie's wrath."
"Don't tell me that," you chide playfully. "You'll give a girl all sorts of notions."
"Oh, I'm counting on it."
Dick starts to kiss up your neck and you happily let him, eyes slipping closed. It's good, until—
THUMP!
You jump. Dick immediately pushes you behind him.
The roof access door swings out so hard it slams against the wall. Jason glares, bowtie already loosened.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You're gonna miss your own wedding, dumbass!" He nods at you. "Hey, future sis. Looking good."
"Thanks, Todd."
"Mm. Everything okay?"
You smile. "Everything's wonderful."
"Yeah, I'm okay too, thanks," Dick says, scowling.
"I know you're fine, idiot. Now come put a ring on it before Alfred hunts you down himself."
Jason turns on his heel, shaking his head. "Responsible one, my ass…"
You look at Dick, grinning.
"Seems like we should go do the marriage thing," you say.
"Seems like." He squeezes your hip. "Do you feel better?"
"Yeah, Gray. I do. Thanks. I love you."
"Love you too, baby. Let's go marry the hell out of each other."
The sunset has morphed into a violet night. But you don't mind that you missed it; you know there will be countless sunsets to come.
#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x female!reader#dick grayson fanfiction#dick grayson fanfic#dick grayson imagine#batman fanfiction#nightwing x reader#nightwing x you#nightwing fanfiction
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven
Dbf!Jake Seresin x fem!reader
12k words (.....yes. 12k. i-)
summary: Flirting with the guy who fixed your car turns out to lead to much, much more when you find out he's actually not just some random guy, but your new neighbour and father's new best friend, Jake Seresin.
a/n: porn with plot. a lot of plot. and a lot of porn. 18+ obviously. reader is twenty-five in this, jake is forty-seven. this is entirely based on my new fixation on dbf!jake. i have so many thots. so many that they led to a 12k oneshot lmfao. anyway, as always, a list of things to watch out for:
pet names used in an unholy way, safe sex (i fucking managed to finally give them a condom whooooohoooo), oral sex for the both of them (yes i also wrote a blowjob. this is unbelievable i know), dom!jake, some praise kink, a smidge of strength kink at the end. a lot of begging. as always. mention of shower sex. mostly vanilla. jake fucks in missionary because he wants to be nice for his first time with her. if there's ever a sequel i swear to god he will be the most unholy fucker ever
top gun masterlist
The first time Jake meets you isn't the first time he's supposed to meet you. He's supposed to come by for dinner that evening, to finally get to know the daughter your parents have told him so much about. And it's not his fault that he meets you seven hours earlier that day. Not really.
Because the pictures your parents had kept showing him were all old. Mostly childhood photographs, some from your graduation, but none recent enough to connect the dots.
So it's really not his fault that he doesn't recognise you when he sees you standing there on the side of the road, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder, the hood of your car all the way up. With how wildly you're gesturing, Jake guesses that you're not particularly close to fixing whatever problem you have.
You're wary when he pulls up behind you and opens his door. It's rarely a good sign when random men prey on very obviously helpless and distressed young women. But Jake doesn't even get closer at first, just stands there in the opened car door and asks if you need any help. For a little moment, you debate whether it's worth the risk. Then your father's voice rings out from your phone and you decide that there's not much this guy could do to you in broad daylight on a well used street with your father on the phone.
So you tell him the truth. Yes, you most definitely have a problem. The way he makes sure it's okay for him to come over and take a look calms you even more. He's considerate and careful and maybe you're actually lucky and he's just a guy who genuinely wants to help.
He steps out from the door and walks up to you and honestly, for a moment there you're startled. He has to be in his forties, but damn, he's attractive. Suddenly you're glad you picked your sundress over your sweatpants this morning.
You let him lean over your car and take a closer look.
"If he can't help, I'll just come pick you up and we'll call a tow truck", your father says after you've filled him in on what's happening. Honestly, you'd really rather not have to call a tow truck though, because that's just going to cost you a bunch of money again, which isn't particularly the way you want to spend it.
Also, this guy leaning over your car - and you're not even denying that you're very much eyeing him up - seems like he actually knows what he's doing there.
He takes a minute or two before he comes up again. He's smiling, which you take as a good sign. He opens his mouth and you hear what he's saying - but because you have no clue what it is that he's trying to tell you, you just nod along. You're not a mechanic, you don't know the goddamn terminology. Something something battery, something something fuel pump, whatever. You take the time to notice his accent instead.
The good news is he thinks he can fix whatever he's found, but you'll still have to get it checked out later on.
He walks back to his own car, rummages around and comes back with a toolbox and an unopened water bottle.
"It might take a while", he tells you as he offers you the bottle. "Feel free to turn on my radio."
You take the waterbottle and bite down on your lip to keep from grinning. He's sweet. Goddamn. Because you've deemed the whole thing safe, you tell your father goodbye and hang up - you honestly just want a bit of privacy to stare at this hunk of a man who's bending over the hood of your car again and offering you a very... good look at his backside.
It's summer. He's wearing a wife pleaser, which is reasonable in these temperatures, but the sight of his forearms working almost makes you feel like he knows what he's doing by wearing it. Does he have a wife to please, though? He's old enough to have kids - your age, maybe a few years younger. He's about as old as your dad. If he has a wife, maybe he's wearing it for her. Maybe she likes the way his biceps flexes just like you do.
You squint at his hands as you uncap the water bottle and take a sip. There's no ring as far as you can see. Would it be entirely unreasonable to assume he's... single?
It's been a minute, maybe, when you decide it's probably awkward for you to stand there and watch him, so you go with his suggestion and lean into his car, palms bracing against the seat to reach for the radio.
You turn it on, switch through a few channels until you find one you like and turn the volume up. Because it's probably just as awkward if you stay in his car - if not bordering on creepy - you step around the opened door and settle yourself against the hood. Your thighs stick to the warmed metal, but that's something you're willing to deal with.
Your eyes cling to him as he works. You don't know what the hell he's doing, you just hope he knows and you're not left with an even worse problem after. But he doesn't seem like that type of guy. And since he's seemingly unmarried... You don't stop yourself from staring.
Fuck, maybe he has a girlfriend, not everyone gets married at thirty. Not everyone wears their wedding ring either. But a girl can dream, right? And you're dreaming, for just a few minutes. You allow yourself to dream.
He looks so good. He looks so fucking good.
Sandy-blond hair, cut short, but not too short, broad, broad, broad shoulders... those arms, that back.
When he straightenes and looks at you, greasy fingers and a triumphant grin on his lips, you also have to admit that he's got chiseled fucking features. You swallow hard and do your best to pretend you haven't been ogling him.
"All done", he says. You raise your eyebrows.
"Really? That quickly?"
He grins and takes a step back, offering you to take a look yourself. You bite back a smile and push off the hood of his car - your hips are swaying as you walk, yeah, but as far as you're aware, he's single and just fixed your car for you, for free, in less than fifteen minutes.
Also, he's hot.
"Looks no different to me", you admit. He lets out a chuckle.
"Try it", he says, reaches for the hood and pulls it down as you slip into the driver's seat. You look up to him through the windshield before you turn the key in the ignition and-
The car starts.
The fucking car starts.
He's actually managed it.
You turn the key back and shake your head in disbelief. If he hadn't accidentally stumbled upon you, you'd probably have had to call the tow truck by now. Instead, you reach for the glove compartment and grab your purse.
"How-", you start as you climb out of the car seat again, shutting the door behind you. "How the hell?"
He chuckles.
"Actually, don't tell me", you interrupt yourself, throwing your hands up. "I don't even want to know. Here."
You reach into your purse and pull out disinfection wipes, offering them to him. He takes one with a smile and a drawled thanks and cleans off the grease on his hands before folding it up and letting it disappear into his pocket.
"So you're my knight in shining armour today", you say, biting down on your lip. Fuck it. You're gonna find out here and now whether or not he's single. "Otherwise I'm sure the tow truck would've cost me a hundred bucks - at least."
"Yeah, probably", he agrees, his eyes dropping to your mouth for just a second.
"Well, then", you smile, as coyly as you can manage. "How can I thank you?"
And just as you hoped, he stills, taking you in - maybe for the first time, you're not sure. His eyes rake down your body, your cleavage, your waist, your legs. His lips tug into a grin, but when he looks back up at you, he's serious.
"No worries", he tells you. "I'm not the tow truck."
He's not pushing you. Actually, he's doing the opposite, and you're not a fan. Maybe he isn't single after all. Maybe he does have a girlfriend. Or a wife. Or maybe he's not interested. Maybe... but you can give it a try, right? Just one try.
"I can't just drive off", you argue, blinking up at him a little more, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Fuck, are you really doing this? Your breath catches for a moment. But then again, if he isn't single, you're just gonna get into your car and never see him again. So who cares? "How about I give you my number?"
Your heartbeat quickens as he looks at you and straightens up. He's still grinning. You can't quite figure him out.
"I'm forty-seven, darling", he chuckles. You try your hardest to ignore how that pet name sounds, all sweet and intimate and god, you'd do a lot to have him say it again.
"So?", you ask and raise an eyebrow. "Does that mean you don't have a phone?"
Jake shakes his head with a chuckle, but you keep looking up at him so seductively, keep smiling so flirtatiously that he can't help himself. You're wearing such a pretty dress, such a dainty necklace around your throat. And you're serious about this.
He's had younger women flirt with him, yes, but usually five, ten years younger at most - and even that's been a while, because he isn't going to bars every night anymore.
You're really young. You're too young. You're, what, twenty-six? You can't be much older.
But you're stunning. Gorgeous eyes, kissable lips, glossy and plush and for just a moment, Jake loses himself in the images his mind seems to produce immediately when he looks at you - has been, from the second he'd spotted you through his windshield.
He's old enough to know better. But he still reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone.
...
The first time Jake officially meets you is seven hours later when he knocks on your parents' door and takes a step back to wait for it to open.
"That's gotta be Jake, someone get the door!", your mother's voice calls out, and it takes a few seconds until he hears soft footsteps coming down the hallway.
Then the door cracks open.
And there stands-
You.
You're smiling widely for the entirety of two seconds. Then your face falls.
Jake feels like the rug is pulled out from under his feet. He tumbles deep down a dark, dark hole as he stares at your pretty eyes, all shocked and wide, mouth open.
"You", you let out, almost breathless.
"You", Jake echoes, in quite the same tone.
Within seconds, you're stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind you and holding out your hand in front of you, as if to keep him a safe distance away.
You're quick, almost stumbling over your own words as you come to conclusions and try to grasp all their consequences. Jake has a hard time even listening to you. He's frozen in his spot, barely comprehending the entire situation.
The young woman that had so unashamedly flirted with him this morning - that he had most definitely flirted back with - is his neighbour's daughter. His friend's daughter.
So he's fucking frozen in spot, yes.
He's frozen even as you're ushering him into the house with a smile on your lips that's just a bit too wide. He's frozen as he sits down at the dinner table and frozen as your mother offers him a beer. He's frozen as he settles on the couch after and as your father turns on a football game. He's frozen as you scoff at the tv and disappear up the stairs.
Your father asks him what's wrong, but there's no way Jake can tell him.
Even without your lecture on the porch, there would've been no way he would have admitted that he's got your number saved in his phone, "Twenty-five" with a winky face emoji behind it.
So he says he hasn't been all that well - maybe getting the flu or something.
Which is bullshit. He doesn't get sick. He's been sick two, maybe three times in all his life.
But he does think he'll be sick when you take your last step down the stairs half an hour later, in pajamas that barely cover anything - satin or something, he's too focused not focusing on your bare skin to notice anything except your bare skin, really. You just traipse over to the kitchen on tiptoes, eyes glued to your phone, hushed voices reaching his ears when you talk to your mother before you reappear in the living room.
"I'm going to bed", you announce, phone clutched tightly in your hands. "It's been a long day."
Jake can't hear your father's answer. He can't hear the commentator or the cheers from the tv. He can't hear anything, not when you're standing there in the doorway, when he's concentrating so fucking hard on not looking at you.
He fails miserably.
His eyes rake down your body so scorchingly hot that they burn holes into your skin. You have to swallow hard at his expression.
You're not tired at all, actually. Yes, it's been a long day, but if anything, you're buzzing with adrenaline. Which is worse. Because the entire dinner long, you've just had to sit there and stare at him and not do anything about it.
So you're aching to finally hide away in your room, to crawl into bed and contemplate what the fuck is happening. And, just maybe, to dip your fingers into your pajama shorts and think about his shoulders, his arms, his jawline...
Jake manages to grunt some kind of 'goodnight' before you flee - but he doesn't manage to drag his eyes back up from your stomach, all exposed and on display for him. And he doesn't manage to hide it from you.
...
He sees you often over the following weeks. He's been over at your parents' house almost every day for the past six months anyway, and that doesn't change just because you've come back home. Your father still invites him for football games, your mother still talks him into coming over for lunch or for dinner or both and whenever they're outside tinkering on something, he's being called to help.
And - because of course, it's your house as well - you're there, too.
All around him, all the time.
At first, it's innocent. You walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water and smile and say hello. You sit on the couch on a call with a friend and wave at him through the window. You come back from a walk with the dog and ask how he's doing before you disappear inside.
But then there come moments... Moments in which you lie down on a sun lounger in a skimpy bikini while he's painting the fence with your father, sunglasses high on your nose, a book in your hands, rubbing sunscreen into your skin and biting your lip when he can't help but look at you. Moments in which you brush up against him in the kitchen with a giggled 'Sorry', your mother's back turned to you as she grabs milk from the fridge, his fists clenching at his sides, his coffee cup held decently in front of his crotch. Moments in which you sit next to him on the couch and have to lean over him with a lengthy apology, your father just disappearing into the bathroom, your palm high enough on his thigh to stagger into the inappropriate.
The only time he's safe is at work. And even then, you're on his mind constantly.
Those pretty dresses you wear all the time, low-cut in the front and so short they hardly reach past your mid-thighs, in all colours of the rainbow. Those skimpy tops with the flowers on them and jeans-shorts or skirts he's more than once noticed are actually skorts.
He shouldn't be attracted to you. It's so wrong on so many levels. You're too young, much too young, twenty-two years younger than him. And - worse - he's best friends with your father.
He can't be attracted to his best friend's daughter. He simply can't.
It's wrong. It's so, so wrong.
But he can't help himself. He can't help himself when you brush up against him, when you touch him, when you look like that right in front of him.
He doesn't know how he survives those first weeks. He doesn't feel like he's alive, really. Every waking thought is of you - of you and of how wrong it is that he can't stop thinking about you. That he keeps imagining what it would be like to hold you, to kiss you, to-
No.
No, he can't.
Even though you're making it practically impossible for him.
And it's not like you really know what you're doing either. But ever since the car incident that very first day back home, you've been picturing those arms, those shoulders - and after the first time you caught sight of him working shirtless on some project in the backyard with your father, those fucking abs. All glistening, sweaty skin, that v-line, that happy trail...
It's not your fault he's starring in all of your late night fantasies now. It's his. It's his because he shouldn't be allowed to look that fucking good, to smell and sound and feel that good, when you can't have him. Because of course you can't.
He's twenty-two years older than you. He's your dad's new best friend.
You can't.
You can't flirt with him like you want to, you can't have him, because it would be wrong. But you also can't not.
You don't mean to taunt him, not at first. At first, it's just instincts. Talk to him, get his attention. But the more you're around him... the less you can control yourself.
You want to then. You want to graze your fingers across his thigh when your father isn't looking, you want to suck the straw of your drink into your mouth while you blink up at him, you want to accidentally drop your spoon and bend over in front of him. You want to because you know he wants you to.
Even though he doesn't say it, even though he forces himself to turn away when you walk by him, you see the way he looks at you. You catch him staring, you catch him eyeing you up and down. You notice the tick in his jaw and the way his fists clench at his sides. You watch his knuckles turn white as he grabs the neck of his beer bottle and takes a deep sip.
You know he's most definitely attracted to you.
Because even if you imagine half of those things - there's still the car incident. There's still your number saved in his phone. There's still 'darling' on your mind. Mostly the way he's repeated it since then, two or three times maybe, each one inspiring more sinful bedtime scenarios.
You can't.
He can't.
And yet neither of you doesn't.
...
Your parents are away when it happens. Your dad has to go on a trip for work and he takes your mother with him, surprises her with an extra weekend of romance just for the two of them. They're gone by Wednesday morning and won't be back until Sunday afternoon and even though you're twenty-five and have experience living on your own, they've asked Jake to check in on you, just to make sure you're okay.
The first time he 'checks in on you' is involuntary. He's just come back from work, it's Wednesday, 3pm, and he's sitting down on his back porch with a beer when he spots you.
He really doesn't mean to. He hadn't even known you were there.
But the fence between your house and his isn't high and so it's only natural that his eyes flick over to your garden once.
And then twice.
Because you're climbing out of the pool in the tiniest black bikini Jake has ever seen in his life, looking like some angelic, biblic, ancient goddess - your hair in a messy bun, droplets of water running down your bare skin, muscles working as you pull yourself up the little ladder and put both feet against solid, dry ground, leaving wet footprints with every step you take until you grab your towel, sling it around your shoulders and-
Look right at him.
Your lips tug into a flirty grin. You wave at him, your hand lingering in the air a second too long before you wrap the towel tightly around yourself and tread towards the fence. Jake can't do anything but watch you go and swallow hard.
The other option would probably be to drag you into his arms and ravage you until your throat is sore from screaming his name.
So he just sits there and stares at you instead.
"Hey there", you greet as soon as you're close enough to the fence that he can't look past your belly button anymore.
"Hey", Jake says and for whatever reason, his voice sounds raspy even to himself. Your grin only deepens.
"Do you have plans for dinner yet?", you ask. You bat your lashes at him innocently as you dry off your arms. "I was going to order take out."
So that's why three hours later, Jake rings your doorbell, in a black button up he spent twenty minutes picking out. The last time he'd spent that long in front of the closet, he'd been about fifteen years younger and about to go on an actual date. This isn't an actual date. This is anything but a date, because he's only supposed to check in on his best friend's daughter. He's supposed to look after you. Keep you safe.
But you open the door in an oversized, washed out band tee and smile so stunningly that he forgets what he's supposed to do in about half a second.
There's a moment of silence as Jake stares at you. He knows that damn band tee.
"Is that... mine?", he asks in disbelief as he waits for the sight to sink in, which it does not do. His mind blanks completely. It's not just that it's oversized and that you look like you're drowning in it, which already has him imagining the way he could flatten his palms against your stomach and feel for you in that heap of fabric. It's also that he knows this fucking shirt because he's been wearing it for the past ten years.
You look down like you're just realising what you have on, not like you'd almost had a heart attack when you'd seen it in the laundry basket, squealing so loudly that your mother had come in to check on you. Jake had worn that shirt the same day and apparently forgotten to put it back on when he'd gone home, so your mother had put it in the laundry.
She hadn't realised that you'd stolen it for yourself before she could wash it. She probably hadn't paid it that much attention.
You had though. And tonight had felt like the perfect occasion to wear it.
"I found it in the laundry", you say truthfully, looking up at him with big eyes. "Dad said it wasn't his so I just took it. Maybe a mix up. Do you want it back?"
Your fingers reach for the hem of the shirt down by your thighs, tugging mindlessly up just a tiny bit. Jake almost stumbles over his own words with how quick he is in denying you.
"No, no, keep it", he reassures. "Keep it."
You let go of the shirt as your grin widens.
"Okay then", you say softly, turn around and leave the door open so Jake can get in. You stroll into the kitchen, crack open the fridge and grab the freshly made iced tea while Jake closes the door behind him and puts away his shoes.
It could have easily been awkward. Honestly, Jake isn't sure that it's not. But it doesn't feel like that. It just feels... heavy. Drowsy. As though you're moving in slow motion, looking at him over your shoulder with a sultry grin. And in his shirt as well. His fucking shirt, it's unbelievable.
You're smiling at him over Chinese take out food with the radio playing softly in the background and the dim kitchen light on and it could have been almost normal, almost nothing, almost just a friendly dinner with his best friend's daughter.
But it isn't.
It isn't because you're leaning over the table and stealing a spring roll from him, grinning at him when he starts to protest. It isn't because you're pushing him back down onto his chair when he wants to get up and help you clear the table, leaning most definitely too close to him to grab his plate and bending most definitely too far down to put it into the dishwasher. It isn't because you're opening a bottle of whiskey, pouring him one and only then asking if he's going to stay and watch a movie with you.
You've already poured him the drink.
Not that he'd been planning to say no.
You're not close to him on the couch, not really. You're a respectful distance away as you put your own drink onto the table in front of you and grab the remote. You're still a respectful distance away as you scroll through a bunch of movies and ask him if he's got any preferences - besides football, of course.
But when you decide on a movie, on one of those rom-coms he'd never watch willingly, you're draping your legs over his and brushing your hair away from your face and he has to swallow hard.
His hands drop to your bare skin almost instinctively. He can't keep them off of you, not when you're this close to him, not when you're offering so prettily. It's like he has to touch you, has to brush his thumbs across your ankles.
This could all be normal. This could all be usual.
Jake doesn't bother paying attention to the movie. It's not like he could possibly pay attention to it, not when his fingers are running up and down your soft skin. So he doesn't really mind that he misses their first kiss, even as you look up from the drink you're refilling with a gasp and wide eyes to watch.
Jake just watches the way your hair frames your face, those droplets of iced tea on your lips before you wipe them off. He's sure he could taste them if he tried to.
You lean back into the couch then and stretch and your shirt - Jake's shirt - rides so far up that he catches sight of your underwear. Fuck.
He has to grab onto you hard so that he doesn't launch himself right on top of you. His mouth is dry all of a sudden, so dry that he has to swallow. You blink up at him as you feel his hands clench around your ankles, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to keep from grinning.
He needs a few seconds to even look up at you. It's like his eyes are glued to that expanse of bare skin at your hip, clinging to the thought of you in your underwear right before him. You're always wearing shorts. You're always wearing shorts. You're always fucking wearing shorts.
Shit.
He shouldn't. He can't.
But his hands brush up your calves and he does look back at you then, which really isn't better, because your lip is still caught between your teeth and your expression is so sinful that he has to bite down on his own tongue.
"Jake", you breathe, all soft and quiet and that's it. That's his breaking point.
You can't just say his fucking name like that, not in his shirt, not while presenting him such a good look at your underwear, and expect him to be okay.
"Fuck", he mutters, then he's on you.
It's an uncomfortable position. You're half turned to him, half away, your legs are still thrown over his lap, which means he can't really push close to you, but his lips are against yours, so firmly, so passionately that you can't care, not right then.
Your eyes fall shut and you kiss him back with the same fervor, the same heat, the same fucking desperation to finally feel him. You part you lips almost too eagerly, too quickly, just so he can stroke his tongue along yours. His hands dig into your thighs, grabbing you tightly, and your arms cross behind his neck to drag him down to you - just that your legs are really in the way now and you have to try and pry one from his lap so that he doesn't crush it, which isn't all that comfortable and takes a while too long to still be sexy. You hardly mind. Jake doesn't either, only pulls his knees up to the couch to climb on top of you.
The whole thing is complicated and annoying and decidedly too time consuming, but his lips are on yours and he's pressing against you, catching himself with a palm against the couch cushions and lowering you to lie down, every single touch frenzied and hurried and hot. Heady and heavy and horny.
You're dragging your hands through his hair, tugging, pulling, scratching your nails across his scalp. He's grabbing your hips with his free hand, grasping your thighs, tangling his fingers in your shirt and digging them into your skin.
You're grinding against him. Not softly, not carefully, not secretly. You're wrapping your legs around him and grinding against him, almost without realising it - you need to be close, you need to be closer. You need to move. You need to feel him.
At the first moan you let out, Jake stills. When you breathily add his name, he pulls back entirely.
It's cold and empty without him, cold and empty and confusing as he settles back on his ankles, panting and wide-eyed. Your arms and legs drop to the couch as you try to catch your breath.
"No", Jake mutters. "We can't."
You push yourself up onto your palms, chest still heaving as you look up at him. Your cheeks feel so hot that you're sure they're embarrassingly red by now and your mind is still hazy with what just happened -
Jake had kissed you. He'd kissed you and you'd kissed him back.
And now he isn't kissing you anymore and you're absolutely not alright with that. You need him to kiss you again. You need to dig your hands into his hair and feel him knead your thighs again. You need to find out what it's like to rake your nails along his arms and scratch down his back.
"Jake", you breathe, staring at him all wide-eyed as he shakes his head and inches even further away from you. He seems like he's in a trance. You repeat his name more forcefully and reach out for him - but he only shakes his head again and runs a hand down his face.
You still for the entirety of two seconds. Then you sit up, inches closer to him than necessary, and toy with the hem of your shirt. You've got a hunch that giving and taking the sight of your underwear will only help your case here.
"Why not?", you ask as you watch his eyes drop down, just like you'd wanted. His breath catches.
"You're twenty-five", he begins, his voice a bit too rough to sound unaffected. "And I'm friends with your father."
You take a long look at him.
"Would you if you weren't friends with my father?"
You bite down on your lip and blink up at him as prettily as you can manage. You're quite sure you know the answer. Especially with that car incident... With your number saved in his phone. With that smug grin you still see in your fantasies.
He hadn't been too concerned with your age back then.
"I am friends with your father", Jake says, all the while struggling to drag his eyes back up your body.
"But if you weren't", you go on, not ready just yet to leave this be - because you know that if you back down now, you'll never get a chance again. Not like this. Not with him. "If you weren't friends with my father. Would you?"
A muscle ticks in his jaw. You hold your breath - one, two, three seconds. Then he's on you yet again and this time, this time with no end in sight. Not as he pushes you back down onto the couch and sets both his palms down next to your head. Not as you wrap your legs around his waist and work the buttons of his shirt, fingers moving so frantically that you slip up more than once - not that you care.
You're kissing Jake. After what has felt like an eternity of teasing and quietly flirting, you're finally kissing him, touching him, feeling him. On top of you, all around you.
Yes, he fucking would. You were right.
His shirt finally unbuttons and you can hardly push it out of the way quickly enough to run your hands down his chest - exploring his collarbones, his abs, that fucking happy trail that has been driving you insane ever since you saw it for the first time. Your fingers brush bare skin, warm, hot, bare skin, before they catch on his waistband. He grinds his hips onto yours as you draw your fingertips along his belt and swallows the moan you so pathetically let out.
You're just about to get to work on opening his belt buckle when he shifts his weight onto one hand and grasps your wrist with the other, pulling an inch away from you as he does so, lips parting in sticky intoxication.
"Jake", you mewl, but when you blink open your eyes he's already shaking his head softly and- grinning. Grinning that smug grin that you've been dreaming of. The one you haven't seen since the very first time you met him. Not with your dad around or directed at anyone else, no. The grin that takes your breath away right then, and you can't even tell why.
It's confident and cocky and cheeky and so, so very, very sexy. Fuck.
You stare at him with wide eyes and parted lips, too caught up in taking him in to notice how he's bringing both your hands up over your head.
"If we're doing this, I'm doing it right, darling", he mutters, all low and rough and the pet name has you clamping your thighs even harder around him. "And only if you want me to."
You can't nod quickly enough.
"I need you to tell me, baby", he grins, exposing those pearly whites that you'd very much like to feel biting into your neck or something. "I need you to say yes."
"Yes, Jake", you push past your lips, breathless and panting and desperate. Desperate for him. "Please."
His chuckle reverberates in your own chest. He runs his hand down your side and rubs a soft circle against the bare skin of your hip, catching on the flimsy fabric of your underwear.
"Already begging for me", he mutters with a grin, his fingers hooking into your waistband. Your hips buck up into his and a moan drops from your lips and Jake just keeps on grinning. Keeps on running his thumbs along your hip bones. "That easily."
You can't even deny it, deny him. You need him to touch you and you need him to do it now.
"You're lucky I want to taste you, because I'm sure it'd be fun to tease you", he chuckles, holds you down against the couch as he sits back on his ankles, keeping your legs spread and the dark spot on your underwear right on display for him. "I could keep you here all night."
You're not sure what excites you more - the promise of all night or the tasting you part. Either way, you bury your hands into your own hair and tug hard to keep yourself from sitting up, pushing him onto his back and riding him into oblivion. He wouldn't let you anyway, you're guessing.
Jake runs his free hand down the inside of your thigh and you really have to concentrate on not moving then. Every touch, every brush and every stroke sends shivers down your spine and pools in your core, heating up each inch of your skin.
When he reaches your underwear once more, he hooks his second thumb into it as well and tugs. Your jaw clenches. God, you've gotta keep still, you've just gotta wait-
He looks up then and raises his eyebrows.
"Please, Jake", you breathe, before he can even say anything. His eyes drop again and he pulls your underwear down, down, down, pushing your knees together to slide them off your legs and you're holding your breath, holding your breath in this intoxicating mess of a moment as he parts your thighs again and leans in. Leans closer.
Leans... not close enough.
Instead, he grabs the hem of your shirt.
"As much as I like that you're wearing my shirt", he mutters, already pushing it up and exposing your stomach to him, "I want to see you."
You let out a pathetic little moan, loosen your hands from your hair and pull his shirt over your head instead, dropping it down onto the floor without looking or bothering where it lands. You're not really bothered about anything besides getting Jake's mouth on you right now.
You're dripping already, dripping down your own thighs as he takes you in - all naked, all bare in front of him, soft skin and smooth curves, chest rising and falling with your heavy breath, eyes half-closed, lips parted and kiss-swollen.
It's wrong. He shouldn't. But he's already gone too far and now, now, with all of you for him to see, to touch, to feel, he can't go back. He can't ever go back.
He wants to burn this image into his memory forever.
"Jake", you whisper, voice just as soft and silky as the rest of you and he snaps out of his trance, runs his fingertips over your stomach, studies you as your breath catches. He leans down again, but his eyes are fixed on you still, focused even as he presses a kiss to your hipbone, then to the inside of your thigh. His teeth graze your skin and his fingers brush against the underside of your boobs.
Fuck.
You bite down on your lip.
Jake thinks he might be in heaven as he palms at your breasts, swiping his thumbs across your nipples and watching your expression change ever so slightly. He breathes against your wetness and his eyes flicker down to finally look at you, dripping for him. His fingers still for just a moment.
If he does this, there's no going back. He's crossing a line that he can never uncross.
But in all honesty - he's already long crossed that line.
So he flattens his tongue against you and tastes you. And you throw you head back and let out a moan that's so filthy that he can't even be bothered to care about what fucking lines he's crossing anymore. He just buries his face in your wetness and basks in the way your eyes roll back into your head.
Your hands dig into his hair all by themselves, tug and pull and push him closer, further into you. You taste heavenly. You are in heaven. You're in heaven with Jake between your legs, brushing his tongue through your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth and groaning into you. He's running his fingers over your breasts, palming and grasping at them, circling and tracing.
That's when the movie stops.
You hadn't even realised it was still on, to be honest, but now, in the silence, your moans echo three times as loud. Jake bathes in the sounds you're letting out. You're absolutely gorgeous like that, teeth tugging at your bottom lip, cheeks flushed, eyes fluttering closed before you blink them open again to look at him, to watch him as he lays between your thighs.
You're soaking in the way he swipes his tongue against you, the way he palms at your skin. With every touch and every brush, you can feel the knot tightening. Can feel the tension in your limbs growing. Can feel the way your legs are starting to clamp tighter, tighter and tighter around Jake's head.
He's so good at this. He's so fucking good at this.
Your grip on his hair tightens so much that you're sure you have to be hurting him, but he doesn't show the slightest hint of wanting to tell you off for it. No, quite the opposite: he pushes further into you and groans his approval.
Which is about the last thing you can take.
Your legs cramp, your hands drag at his hair, your back arches, your head hits the armrest of the couch and Jake guides you through your high, eyes set on you, focused and fixed on you, watching every single reaction you have to him, drinking in the sight of you, drinking in your moans. You're pushing back against him, panting and clawing at him, lips parted and eyes shut tightly as you take in a shaky breath and sink slowly back against the couch.
The air is heavy. Heavy with your emotions, heavy with your orgasm, heavy with your moans.
Jake pulls back slowly, softly, draws his hands down to your stomach to rub circles onto your skin - significantly warmer now than before. You're still breathing heavily, legs unhooking from around his head only reluctantly. Honestly, you wouldn't have minded if he'd just decided to stay down there for the next three to five business days. But you also don't mind as he pushes himself up and presses a kiss to your lips, because he tastes like you and you get to hook your arms around his neck and pull him even further down onto you.
With his half-bare chest pushed against yours, his tongue runs along your lips and you open willingly up to him. More than just willingly. Because with him on top of you, his lips sticky and syrupy on yours, not wanting or not able to part from yours, there's already anticipation running in your veins, wetness pooling in your core again, the urge to wrap your legs around him and grind against him growing and growing with every second that he's kissing you.
You draw your hands down his throat, push his shirt out of the way and brush your palms down his bare torso, all hard abs against your fingertips. He's in such good fucking shape you could truly be running your hands up and down a washboard right now. It feels unfair that he's more than twenty years older than you and somehow fitter.
Your fingers catch on his waistband then.
"Jake", you whine softly against him. "Please, I need you."
He groans, drops his head down to your neck and for a second, you just hear him breathe - all hot and heavy before his lips graze your skin.
"Fuck, you can't say that, darling", he mutters. "You don't know what you do to me."
His belt buckle feels cold against your fingertips, so cold against your sticky, sweaty skin.
"Show me", you whine, beg, plead. He's not teasing you, not taking his time, he's not waiting or edging or anything, and still- Still, you're so fucking desperate. He's finally got you here, finally, and as much as you're sure you'd enjoy his teasing... You just need him to fuck you. Now.
Jake chuckles breathily as he raises his head to look down at you. There's that grin again. That fucking grin.
Then he plants that grin onto your lips and you moan softly, hooking your fingers into his belt and pulling hard. You've just started loosening it successfully when he sits back onto his ankles, leaves you cold and lonely and fully naked on the couch. You mewl.
"Jake-", you let out, but he's already standing up, climbing off of the couch and you're sitting up as if in trance, just to follow him, whatever it is that he has in mind.
He slips off his shoes before he starts to work his belt and then lets that fall to the ground too. You reach for him instinctively, drawing your fingertips along his thighs as he pops the button of his jeans and pulls down his zipper, but when he hooks his thumbs beneath his waistband and tugs down, something snaps inside of you.
"Wait", you whisper. "Let me."
You reach out for him and graze your fingers along his waistband, taking a breath as your eyes flutter up at him. He swallows hard, lets his arms drop to his sides and nods heavily. God, he looks so fucking attractive. His hair all messy, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed solely on you. You make sure to work quickly, almost frenzied, hurriedly pulling down his jeans and taking his briefs right with them. You won't spend unnecessary time on unimportant things.
Your breath catches, palms stilling against his thighs.
Fuck.
Jake's hand twitches, then clenches into a fist. But he stays right where he is, doesn't move an inch. Everything in him screams at him to run his fingers through your hair and guide you closer to him - but he doesn't. He won't. Not tonight, not right now. Right now, he wants to give you every out he can. Just in case you want to take it.
You don't. Of course not.
Not when you can see just how much he's holding himself back.
So instead you lean down and kitten-lick his tip. His hand flexes, again, and even though he lets out a deep groan that will surely echo in your head for the next two weeks, he stays still.
You just wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and take him into your mouth.
He has to close his eyes and tilt his head up to keep from bucking into you. Damn, it hasn't even been that long since he got blown. And he didn't react like a teenager then. But something about your warm, wet mouth, something about the way your dainty fingers reach around him, something about how you eagerly take him so far that he hits the back of your throat, something about that soft little gagging noise you make just before you pull off of him to breathe in deeply-
Fuck, you're making this really hard for him.
"Jake", you mutter, your hand still working him. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, looks down at you sitting there on the couch, completely naked, eyes all wide and cheeks flushed and so fucking stunning. His fingers brush along your forehead, tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear.
"Jake", you repeat, a little more breathlessly this time. "Don't hold back for me. I won't break."
His jaw clenches again, but you just blink up at him, the weight of your words heavy between you. His eyes roam your face for any sign of uncertainty - then he nods. He'd like to disagree, though. He's more than afraid he'll break you.
You're so young, so sweet, so fragile.
Just not innocent. And you feel like you have to remind him of that - of your more than obvious flirting, of your sultry grins and half-naked hints, of your number sitting so unashamedly in his contacts.
So you lean in again, pull your free hand from his thigh and grab his wrist instead, dragging it away from your cheek and planting it on the back of your head as you wrap your lips around him. He takes a shallow breath and your hand drops back down to his thigh. There's one, two seconds in which your eyes just flutter closed and your nails dig into his skin-
Then, finally, fucking finally! Jake tangles his fingers into your hair and pushes you into him. You loosen your hand from around him and put it against his other thigh, allowing him to pull you closer and closer. You breathe deeply through your nose as Jake groans above you - and it takes everything in you not to grin. Instead, you just let him guide you, blink open your eyes to look at him and try to ignore the arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. He looks so fucking good, it should truly be forbidden, because now you have to press your legs together and steady your palms against him.
Jake feels about the same. His breathing is heavy, his grip on your hair firm, and his eyes are set on you - on how he disappears inside your mouth, again and again, your spit coating him, your throat tight. He can't help but push you down, one time, two times, and pull you back, three times, four times, then push you down and pull you back again. And again. And again. He can hardly concentrate on how good you're making him feel when you're looking that fucking sinful.
Shit.
Before he can come right then and there in your mouth, he tugs you off fully, his jaw clenching involuntarily at the soft whine you let slip. But you can barely be truly bothered when he leans down and presses his lips to yours instead. You're not bothered about anything, really - about anything but his tongue against yours as you cross your arms behind his neck and draw him in, your hands dragging into his hair, your mouth moving desperately against his, sloppily, silently begging him for more.
Jake steadies his palms against the back rest and pulls away heavily, breathing hard as you open your eyes again to look at him - half-lidded, all languid and slow. He swallows hard.
"Do you-", he starts, his voice low and rough and you nod, letting your arms drop from around him to point at the side table.
Have a condom, he'd wanted to ask. In any other situation, he'd have one himself, but something about bringing condoms for a check in on his best friends daughter would have felt incredibly wrong.
"In my makeup bag", you say, your voice thin and breathy as he stretches and reaches for the lavender coloured pouch, unzipping it and looking for the condoms between all the brushes and lipglosses. He can barely pull one out before your fingers close around it, before you've carefully torn it open. He drops your makeup bag back onto the side table right as you straighten up to press a kiss to his lips - almost innocent, almost, if it weren't for the taste of him on your tongue. Then you press a kiss onto his collarbone. Then one right onto his abs. Then one just above that happy trail that has been driving you fucking insane. And then, then, you run your tongue over his tip again before you roll the condom onto him.
Which means it's his turn.
And he doesn't hesitate.
He's not rough in the way he pushes you onto your back on the couch, no, he's smooth with it, hands running along your skin as he cages you in, as he rests his arms next to your head - but he's firm nonetheless. He takes control easily, moving you how and where he wants to, claiming your mouth, pressing his lips to yours. You let him. More even, you relish in giving in to him, in giving him control, in letting go, in trusting him. You bathe in his kisses, in his touches, in his soft grunts as he guides himself into you.
"Jake", you whine against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, eyes falling shut. The stretch is delicious, heavenly. He fills you slowly, dragging his lips down your throat as you tilt your head back and let out a filthy moan. Your legs wrap around him, pull him closer. His teeth graze your neck, drawing a moan from you as he settles. He gives you a moment to adjust.
A moment too long.
Way too long.
Even with his lips on your skin, with your nails dragging down his neck, digging into his shoulders, even with him inside of you, you need more. You need him to move. Right fucking now.
"Jake", you mewl, your eyes fluttering open. He raises his head to look at you and- Fuck, good lord. You've messed up his hair and his pupils are wide and his cheeks are red and he looks fucking heavenly. So heavenly that your breath catches. You forget what you wanted to say for a moment. Then his thumb brushes your cheek and you remember.
"Move", you breathe, digging your fingers into his skin and wrapping your legs around him tightly. You need him to move. But his lips tug up in that grin again and, as quickly as you can, you add- "Please, Jake."
His grin widens as he looks down at you, all pretty and desperate, clenching around him, lips parting in a silent moan. It would be so easy to tease you, so easy to make you beg and plead for him... And you'd look so gorgeous doing it. You're already so eager to please him.
But not tonight. Not right now. Right now, he just needs to make you feel good. So he leans down, presses a kiss to your lips and moves. Finally.
You open up to him eagerly, letting him run his tongue along yours, moaning into him as he thrusts into you. Deep and languid, hitting all the right spots like no one has before. Fuck, fuck, fuck-
You're really doing this. He's really doing this. You claw at his back, scratch down his skin, sure to leave bruises as he pulls his head up to look at you, to watch the way you arch up into him. Your skin glistens with sweat, your lips part to let out a breathy mewl and the coil in your stomach tightens, tightens, tightens.
Jake shifts his weight onto one arm, frees a hand to brush his fingers through your hair, tugging, tilting your head back, exposing your throat to him. You moan at the ceiling as he drops a filthy kiss onto your collarbone before he lets go of your hair again, trailing his hand down your side instead - and his hand is so fucking big, so big as he draws it down your body, brushing his fingertips over your boob, sweeping over your hip, grasping your thigh. You pull him down onto you, crash your lips back onto his hard. You need to feel him, you need to kiss him, you need to hold him right now. You need him. You need this.
He smoothes his fingers down your skin until they catch on your clit.
"Jake", you moan into his mouth, pathetic even to your own ears. He only grins into the kiss and circles your clit as he thrusts into you, again and again and again, your legs clenching harder and harder and harder around him before he pulls away, pulls even further away even though you chase after his lips, his eyes roaming your face as you squeeze yours shut tightly.
"Look at me, darling", he drawls, his voice low and raspy, his fingers rough against your clit. "Look at me when I'm fucking you."
You let out some kind of deranged moan at his crude wording, opening your eyes and blinking up at him because there's no fucking way you can deny him. Not when he calls you darling like that. Not when he thrusts inside you just right. Not when the view of him, messy hair and grinning and all, has you clenching around him this hard.
You're close. So close.
"Atta girl", he mutters, and that does it for you.
Your legs cramp and your lips part again to let out a gorgeous little moan that Jake swallows up immediately, slotting his mouth over yours and drinking up the way you clench around him. It takes everything in him not to come too. You're so fucking pretty and you're clenching so fucking perfectly around him, but he needs to make you feel good first, he needs to make you come first, he needs...
"Jake", you mewl, face scrunched up, back arched, as he guides you through your second high of the night. "Fuck, fuck."
He's grinning when you come down. You grab his hand and pull it away from your clit. It's too much right now, too much. It takes a second for you to even realise that he's stopped moving entirely, too focused on watching you, on drinking up the sight of you, tousled hair and red cheeks and parted lips and all. You look like an angel, so fucking heavenly that he can't believe his eyes, not really.
"Jake", you mutter, slurring his name so prettily and pulling him in for another kiss, your arms loose around his neck, your fingers lazily brushing through his hair. "Come for me?"
It's barely more than a breath, barely more than a whisper onto his lips, but he hears it, oh, he hears it. He lets out a groan as he draws away again, his eyes roaming your face. You're unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.
You're asking him to come for you. Begging him to come for you.
And there's no grin in sight, no smug smile, no hint of trying to take control of him - it's not a command, not even close, you're actually, genuinely pleading, your eyes half-lidded and barely focusing, just needing him to feel good now, too.
You're really fucking unbelievable.
He can't remember ever having a woman ask him to come.
He kisses you so hard you become dizzy, pressing his lips onto yours and tangling a hand into your hair. He pushes impossibly closer, thrusts back into you and pulls another string of moans from you, bordering on incomprehensible, hardly more than breaths, mewls that he swallows before they can flee into the empty air of the living room.
His own breathing comes in pants, his muscles clenching and tensing and he's there quicker than he thought he'd be. He's close, really close, and that's when you decide to dig your teeth into his lip and tug and fuck, he's there, alright. He's done then. He spills inside you with a groan, pulling back right as you flash him a dazed grin, eyes fluttering open to take him in.
Your throat feels way too dry all of a sudden.
You don't think you'll get this image out of your head ever again, this image of him coming undone on top of you. It's burning itself into your memory while you watch, never to be forgotten.
Because hell no, you won't forget this.
"Fuck", Jake groans, his voice all rough and hoarse and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips again, slow this time, almost soft. He brushes a thumb down your cheek, lightly cups your jaw and pulls you even closer, your skin warm beneath his fingers.
You tighten your arms around his neck a bit, keeping him firmly there, firmly on top of you, firmly inside of you. But he makes no move to leave, anyway. Just runs his tongue tenderly along yours, unhurried and gentle, and holds you close. You don't know for how long. He could've kept you there for eternity and you wouldn't have minded. How could you mind, basking in the afterglow like this, with his skin sticking to yours, his fingers grazing your cheek, his lips brushing against yours? No, really, you could've stayed there for the rest of forever.
But he pulls back after a while, of course, and pulls out, too. You let out some kind of disappointed mewl, but that's about everything you can do before he gently grasps your wrists and pulls your arms from around him, smiling in a way you can't even begin to complain.
"Lets get you cleaned up, darling", he says softly, carefully helping you sit up, his hands everywhere but nowhere nearly long enough.
You sigh dramatically, blinking your eyes open to look at him, even as you let him pull you up. Your legs feel like pudding. You feel like pudding.
"If we have to", you give in, smiling as Jake grins and shakes his head at you.
"We have to", he chuckles, hauls you up into his arms and waits for you to hold onto him before he carries you into the bathroom - seemingly fucking without any problem whatsoever, as if you weigh nothing at all to him.
You bite down on your lip and rest your forehead against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut to not have to look at him while you contemplate his strength. He should not be this fucking strong. He should not be allowed to be this fucking strong.
"Careful", Jake says, his voice low, as he sets you gently down on the toilet seat. You flinch away from the ice-cold seat against your thighs, fingernails digging into his shoulders for one, two, three seconds before you relax and settle down.
Jake lets go of you just as softly, steadying you until he's sure you won't just fall right off the toilet. He turns and you look up, his back right there to stare at, a smile tugging at your lips again - goddamn, he looks way too good, holy shit. You barely hear the garbage can open and close as he throws away the used condom, then rummages through the drawers until he finds a washcloth that he can soak in luke warm water.
He turns with a smile, grabs your chin tenderly and presses a kiss to your lips, just one, all sweet and languid, so unlike the rest of his kisses. You hardly notice that he's cleaning you off as he kneels down in front of you, simply because you're so entranced by him. God, but he really looks like he's fucking glowing, you hate him for having this effect on you.
He wraps his arms around you again - did he put the washcloth away? fuck, did you miss that? - and you cuddle close, almost (but just almost) letting out a pleased sigh. Fuck, he's so broad and so strong and so comfortable...
He sets you down on the couch and smiles.
"Wait here for me, darling", he mutters, bending down to pick up your shirt (his shirt, really) and slide it carefully over your head once again. You hug yourself close and settle deep into the couch as Jake disappears. His steps echo through the house.
Then there's silence.
Absolute silence.
You rest your head against the headrest and close your eyes, your fingertips absentmindedly drawing circles against your heated skin.
And in this quiet emptiness... the reality of the situation finally sinks in.
For the first time.
Because you just slept with Jake Seresin.
Jake Seresin. Your neighbour Jake Seresin. Your dad's best friend Jake Seresin. Twenty-two years older than you Jake Seresin.
Holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit.
This actually happened. This actually fucking happened. You slept with Jake Seresin. And somehow... somehow- Somehow you can't feel guilty. You can't feel bad or ashamed. Not like you should. And you definitely should. Because this is Jake Seresin, not some random frat guy. This is forty-seven year old, your dad's best friend Jake Seresin.
But you can't feel bad.
You really do try, for the entirety of a minute or two, while somewhere in the back of the house, a door is opened and closed again. But you still can't feel bad. So you don't.
Jake comes back with a water bottle and his briefs back on, which you can't help but feel disappointed at. He sits down on the couch next to you and hands you the bottle.
"Drink", he nods, so you uncap it carefully and take a sip. It's charming, really, how the first time you'd met him with your car broken down, he'd also handed you a water bottle. A grin tugs at your lips involuntarily. It's just coincidence, you know that, but there's something incredibly sweet about the way he's seemingly always made sure to keep you hydrated. There's something sweet about him, simple as that, with how softly he's cleaned you off and settled you down on the couch after.
You put the bottle down on the table and turn to him.
He looks almost normal again, almost like before. He's still nearly naked though (which you certainly aren't complaining about), and his hair still looks like he's just walked straight out of a hurricane. He raises his eyebrows at you as you take him in.
"We should probably talk about this", you say, your voice cracking halfway through. You're not sure you want to talk about it. And with the way Jake's face falls... yeah, he doesn't seem to, either. But he still straightens up and brings some more distance between the both of you.
Maybe that's smart, actually. Maybe. But then again, you've already done everything you could to try and feel bad, so instead of doing the reasonable (you're already way past the reasonable anyway) and pushing further away from Jake too, you stretch out a leg and drape it over his lap again.
A muscle in his jaw ticks and he grasps your ankle almost immediately, as if there's no other choice but to touch you even while he's trying to keep his distance.
"But", you grin, scooching a little closer as an idea forms in your mind, "You know, I still have to shower. Chlorine is so bad for the skin unless you wash it off. And I did spend quite a while in the pool today."
...
It's Monday afternoon and even hotter than the weeks before. You're sitting outside, sunbathing in the fifteenth layer of sunscreen of the day, with sunglasses on that hardly seem to do anything and wearing nothing but a bikini because god, you're fucking melting. It hasn't been this hot the entire year.
The only really good thing about the scorching heat is that Jake, for lack of swimming pools in his garden, is doing sets in yours. You're incredibly glad for your sunglasses, because even though your mother is sitting right next to you, burying her nose in another of the novels she'd checked out from the library two weeks earlier, you can ogle Jake without worrying that she'll catch you.
And goddamn, you're ogling, alright.
It's not like you haven't stared at him enough. Over the past five days, you've barely been doing anything else. Well, except for those times you'd had your eyes closed and his lips on yours, of course. But still, you don't really feel like you could ever possibly get enough of staring at him.
And right now, right now, with the way he climbs out of the pool, arms tensing and flexing, water dropping down his skin, his hands running through his soaking wet hair...
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
You bite down on your lip and press your thighs together. God, if you aren't careful, you'll have to disappear into the house and shower early, because you're sure you could not pass the dark spot on your bikini bottoms off as sweat.
Jake turns away to grab his towel and starts to dry off and you're already mulling over how you'll phrase the message you'll send him (something along the lines of 'tell my parents you need to use the bathroom' with a shower selfie attached? You've already sent him way worse things while he'd been at work) when your mother suddenly gasps.
Three heads turn to her simultaneously.
"Jake!", she chokes, her book sinking down into her lap. Jake raises his eyebrows at her, just as clueless as you are. She parts her lips and then clamps her mouth shut again, apparently lost for words. "Your back."
It hits you like a tidal wave.
Oh, shit. Oh, holy fucking shit.
You should've noticed earlier. Much earlier. You should've- God, he'd known, too, hadn't he? But you'd been the one to stare at his back long enough that you should've noticed. Yesterday. You should've noticed the long, red lines running down his skin. Your long, red lines running down his skin. Fuck, fuck-
"Oh, that-"
Jake stumbles over his own words for the first time ever since you've met him. His eyes find yours, for just a moment or two, and you can see the panic in them. It's the second fucking day your parents are back. The second fucking day. And you're already messing up, you're already-
"I knew it", your mother grins, clapping her hands together and letting out a laugh that startles you so hard you flinch. "I knew you were a womanizer after all! I mean, looking like that, there's no other way-"
"Honey!", your father gasps, and she giggles and throws her hands up. But he's grinning too and you know him well enough to say he isn't really mad that she's complimenting Jake.
"Sorry, sorry, just saying." She chuckles to herself and grabs her book again, her voice dropping to a mumble. "I can't believe it though, we go away for five days and suddenly he's hooking up with someone! I think we need to stop inviting him over so often if we want him to find somebody."
Your father laughs and gets up to offer Jake a beer.
"You didn't happen to see who he brought home, did you?", your mother asks, her voice almost too casual to really be casual as she turns her head to look at you with raised eyebrows.
You choke on your breath.
"Um-", you start, but your father already rolls his eyes and saves you without meaning to.
"You're not nosy at all", he chides, resting his beer bottle against her foot. She tugs it away and shakes her head at him.
"Just curious", she grins. "Just curious."
Yeah. Just curious. You pray to god that just curious won't one day expose the little secret you've got going on with Jake. Next time, you'll really have to be more careful with your nails.
#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin smut#dbf!jake seresin#dbf!jake seresin smut#x reader#dbf!jake seresin x reader#top gun#top gun x reader#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman seresin smut
561 notes
·
View notes
Text
John Price fingering you in front of the mirror, x afab fem reader, MDNI !!!
tags: John price smut, Price cod, John price, Captain john price x reader, Captain price, Price x reader, call of duty smut, cod smut, cod price, john price x reader, captain john price
cw: Mirror kink, “Good girl”, reader gets fingered
A/N: Hey everyone! I’m sorry I haven’t really uploaded much life’s been a bit busy!! I’m working on some things rn but the motivation to keep writing is really low but i’ll power through no doubt 👍👍 enjoy!!!! ps: I barley proof read it 😭
John Price was a mad man; a fucking machine. Built like a superhero, covered in dirt with that sexy beard of his but god damn you’d let him do the unspeakable to you.
He could fuck for hours, for nights- you swore if he had enough energy he could go on for days. But one thing he struggled to do was finger you.
You felt a bit embarrassed to ask why as you always assured him it felt good but the disgruntled expression and sigh he makes when he pulls out of you made you worry. You began to wonder if it was something wrong with you and that’s the reason why.
In your head it made sense, him making it plainly obvious he didn’t want to do it every-time it was over but your mind always made something up to contradict your theory.
If he hated it so much why did he enjoy eating you out? Why would he throw you in the bed, staring at your pussy hungry before attacking your clit fast and hard like the military captain he is? And if he hated fingering you so much why did he offer?
Why did he do that?
You stretched your legs out under your office chair before packing your bag and leaving work, on your way home. Tonight was the night you were going to ask him, embarrassing or not. You couldn’t let your dwelling and overthinking cluster up your head any longer, it was time.
You opened the gate to your rustic home and headed for the big door. The house you two had bought was quiet old and elegant and you’d loved it so much, decorating the decaying walls and overgrown garden and making it your own. You loved the style and it made you feel cozy, this was your dream house.
The door shut behind you and the farmilliar scent of vanilla candles and firewood cascaded through the walls as the fire cracked beside you. You hung up your coat and dumped your bag on the floor.
“Baby? Where are you?” You called and after hearing a couple strained grunts you heard Price yell back a ‘Here’ from upstairs. Curiosity flooded your mind and you jogged up the stairs and pushed open your bedroom door to see him crouched on the floor, tool kit sprawled behind him and a screw driver in his hand.
“What the fuck is that?” The laughter of your voice falling through as you store at the mirror nailed to the wall, it was huge. Something out of a ballet studio and you turned back to him, heavy breathing and whipping the sweat off of his pink face.
“Thought you’d like it, pretty big though.” Yeah, just a little. Head to toe taking all the room and right in-front of the bed, how amazing. Cant wait to wake up to my own reflection.
“Doesn’t exactly go with the rustic design of the house does it?” But all he did was laugh and pull you closer, giving you a sloppy but loving kiss on the lips as you tried to wriggle away. His hands clasped around you waist and you remembered what you were going to ask him. Your mouth fell ajar but before you could speak he was dragging along the wide wooden chair to sit on before placing it infront of the mirror and take a seat.
“Want to know what it’s for?” He asked, words laced with something you couldn’t put your tongue on but you hesitantly nodded, wondering why he bought this. It must’ve costed a lot, and it was rather beautiful, it was as clear as glass. Why did he get this.
Price smirked letting a deep chuckle through his tight lips before patting his laps for you to sit. You sat down hesitantly and glacéd in the mirror at you two, his hands around your waist, just above your black skirt and eyes locked onto you. His left hand trailed up towards your neck sending tingles down your body and dampening your panties again. His other creeping closer down and rubbed your thigh soothingly.
“When I finger you love, I struggle a lot. I know you notice and I want to let you know why I struggle.” His hand reached your neck just below your chin and he tilted your neck back so your head laid on his strong shoulder, still looking at yourself in the mirror, with him in control.
"I love to see my fingers inside you, your cum gushing out after i finger you, but i also love to see your little face. Your cute little scrunched eyes, mouth wide open out of pleasure.” You couldn’t fight back the small whimper you let out as his hands on your thigh slowly rose higher, slipping comfortably under your skirt.
“But darling i’m getting old now, aren’t I? It’s too hard to look up then down then up- I miss a few things and I don’t like missing.” His seductive grin send pools of lava to your stomach and your thighs tensed under his hands as his thick fingers grazed the soft fabric of your panties. Teasing you and loving every fucking second.
“But fuck, from this angle? I can see all of you, all of you at once. Your breathing, face, pussy, everything and I love it.” You shut your eyes in embarrassment and you felt your face burn while he slid your underwear down slowly and gently tapped against your precious sensitive skin.
Tracing slowly down your wet slit coating himself in your taste. He groaned at the feeling kissing your temple while his finger prodded into your entrance greedily. Next time he will take his time, next time he will have you begging for his fingers. Next time because god he couldn’t wait now.
The thickness of his finger stretched you out slightly as he thrusted it in and out of you, burning your hole slightly as he added another and another. Your moans and cries send sparks to his dick below you and you felt him harden more and more beneath you- he didn’t stop to fuck you though.
“Oh yeah darling look at you, fucking look at yourself.” His other hand stretched to your chin, tilting your face up and through tears you watched yourself be finger fucked by John. Tightening around his hand more and moaning louder as tears rolled down your cheek.
“Baby I’m going to-” You started but he shut you up shushing you quiet with a small kiss and rapid movements. His husky voice demanding you just to let yourself go.
“Come on, that’s it. Just let it all go, cum on my fingers. Good girl, oh my god you’re such a good girl.” As you came, cum squirting out of your abused hole and dripping down his sticky fingers. Your back arched and your legs started to shake and tremble against him and he just smiled. Pulling out of you and holding you for a moment, licking his fingers clean.
“Was that good darling? I loved it. So much better than usually fingering you.” You breathing calmed down slowly as you shakily nodded. John leant over giving you another loving kiss before chuckling.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to calm down and then we’ll go again, yeah?”
#john price smut#price cod#john price#captain john price x reader#captain price#price x reader#call of duty smut#cod smut#cod price#john price x reader#captain john price
899 notes
·
View notes
Text
Full
Frankie Morales x afab!Reader
Summary: You want Frankie to knock you up, and fuck, does he wants that, too.
W/C: 1k. (I actually stuck to the word count this time… but at what insanely hot cost?😵💫)
18+ MDNI: Implied established relationship. Literally 0% plot and 100% PORN. Unprotected P in V sex. MAJOR BREEDING KINK. Cumming inside. Slight daddy kink (in the sense that you wanna make Frankie a daddy🫶🏼). One (1) pussy slap. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation kink. Finger fucking.
Pics for aesthetic purposes only.
A/N: This lil drabble is a part of my 1k follower celebration in response to this yummy request made by @javierpena-inatacvest😵💫 Please take a deep breath and get comfortable while you read this…
ANYWAY, happy Valentine’s Day everyone!!! What better way to celebrate than with Frankie and his breeding kink?😋 Hope you guys enjoy, and please do let me know what you guys think!!!! I love love love your feedback (or- in other words) !!!🤭
MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG || 1K CELEBRATION
“Fuck, Frankie…”
“Taking it so good, querida, fuck-”
“Please- shit- please, Frankie, don’t stop.”
“I’m not, baby,” he moans, eyes threatening to succumb to the back of his skull, “Not gonna fucking stop until you’re full of me, baby, yo prometo.” I promise.
“Sh-shit, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, ohmygod-” your eyes clamp shut, your jaw hangs open, ass up in the air as your tears and drool soak the pillow beneath your face.
Frankie speeds up, pummeling into you hard and fast, his large hands coasting the surface of your ass and your back, groaning at the way you twitch and writhe underneath him. His hands settle at your waist, gripping you tightly, accentuating the arch of you. He’s so fucking deep at this angle, you can feel him hitting your cervix with each thrust forward. It’s an addicting sensation right now—and it will be even later, when the dull ache overtakes you. “Give it to me,” he breathes, “cum all over my cock, querida, needa feel you.”
His hand snakes around to your front, the pad of his fingers meeting your clit, rubbing it in the perfect motion that sends you reeling. Fireworks—no, dynamite, explodes behind the dark of your eyelids, your head adopting that fuzzy feeling, your body following suit not long after. “So fucking good, you feel so fucking good, Frankie, oh my God- oh fuck-” you ramble partially incoherently.
Your thighs are jello, unable to keep yourself up as Frankie continues fucking into you; his arm wraps around your middle, his other pawing at your breast. He pulls you up to be flush against his chest as he begs your alter for his own release. “I’m c- mierda- I’m close,” he whimpers right at your ear.
Mustering up as much strength as you can, you twist your head to face him, your hand reaching up and rooting yourself at the back of his messy curls. You yank his head towards you, crashing his mouth against yours. It’s sloppy and wet, swallowing each other’s tongues whole as the thickness of your shared breaths melt into one. Breaking away with a bite to his kiss-swollen lower lip, you whisper into his mouth, “cum inside me, Frankie, please.”
“Baby-” he chokes, his hips speed up, arousing him beyond what he thought was possible. “Want you in me for days, Francisco,” you whimper, licking a stripe on his neck, collecting the salty liquid running down. His hand makes its way back to your throbbing bud.
Your body goes lax in his hold, you secure your grip at the base of his neck, keeping your faces close to each other. He watches with heavy eyes as you struggle to keep your gaze on his, your brows furrowing slightly as your eyelids begin to flutter. “Need you-” you start, a throaty moan cutting you off. “Need you inside me- need you to fuck it so deep, baby,” you sob, “that it has no choice but to fucking take- fuck-”
Frankie’s heart stutters and his cock twitches. “Yeah?” he grits between his teeth. “Want me to fuck you full?” A particularly hard thrust sends you cross-eyed, your nails digging into his neck. “Want me to fucking get you pregnant right now, baby?”
An appreciative little slap to your slippery clit jolts your eyes open, his lustful gaze with a hint of something more—like adoration, like pure devotion—stares you down. You pull him into you once more, a clash of spit and teeth and tongue—you can even taste a hint of your own arousal from when he ate you out before you were begging him to knock you up. “Please- fuck- yes, baby, yes- fucking- let me make you a daddy, baby, please- want you- need it- need you so fucking bad-”
Fuck. Frankie’s pace falters, his hips stammer as his orgasm consumes him—his cum painting your warm walls, filling you up to the brim. You moan at the sensation, your hips thrusting backwards into him, and before you realize it, you’re cumming again, both your bottom halves an utter mess of each other’s arousal.
Frankie softly slips from your heat, and you both hiss at the loss. He releases his hold on you, guiding you onto your back, his hands settling on the insides of your thighs to keep you open for him. His eyes can’t leave the way your pussy looks right now—completely fucked out, shiny with your slick, and filled with his cum. You feel it start to leak out of your hole, and you whine, the feeling so sensitive but dizzying, knowing you’re overflowing with Frankie.
Before you know it, his fingers are collecting the dripping spend, bringing it back to your entrance, and slowly, his fingers enter you, the initial push inward causing more of his cum to seep out of you, but he’s quick to catch the leakage, pushing it back inside of you, where it needs to be.
With one hand holding one thigh down and the other inside of your sex, Frankie’s entranced, starting up a delicious pace fucking into you with his fingers. You’re a moaning mess of curses mixed with his name, overstimulation taking over your body, but you don’t want him to stop.
He couldn’t even if he tried. He’s too caught up in the notion that after this, his sperm could latch, and in nine months from now, you’d be big and round and glowing carrying the product of your love. Fuck, he needs this to work. He’ll fill you up every fucking day if that’s what it takes.
He’s pulled from his trance when a heady moan roars from your throat, “F-fuck, fuck, Frankie, I’m gonna fucking cum again! Oh my god, baby- fuck-”
His eyes are on your face: pure ecstasy, he’s seeing, in the way your head throws back into your pillow, only the white of your eyes showing, as the veins pop out your neck as you scream out in pleasure.
He slides his fingers out, slick with a mixture of both of your arousal, and brings it up to your mouth. He knows how much you love to taste.
Immediately you open up, lapping up your combined flavors greedily, a content, blissful smile plastered lazily on your face.
“Am I full, baby?” You mumble.
“So full, querida,” he whispers, laying his body over yours, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.
“Do you think…” you trail off softly, nervous.
“I don’t know, mi amor,” he breathes, kissing your chest. “Guess we’ll just have to keep you full everyday until we can check, huh?”
Your cheeks heat up, your exhausted pussy already fluttering in anticipation. “Y-yeah. I guess so.”
End note:
LOLOL GUYS I, UH.. I REALLY WENT HARD ON THIS ONE, I'M SORRY BUT ALSO I'M NOT SORRY ASDFGFDFH PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK <3 YOUR GUYS' WORDS MEAN THE WORLD TO ME, I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH
Also how you doing, babe @javierpena-inatacvest?? You alive? Still with me?? I LOVE YOU AHAHAHAH
#L's 1k follower celebration#endless thoughts fics#pedro pascal#pedrohub#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#smut#pedrostories#drabble#triple frontier fic#triple frontier fanfic#triple frontier smut#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x you#francisco catfish morales#francisco morales fanfiction#frankie morales smut#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales#francisco morales x f!reader#francisco morales smut#francisco morales
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
HOW WOULD THE LNDS BOYS REACT TO YOU FORGETTING ABOUT A DATE?
Just some mild fluff before I proceed to ravage you all with more angst writings :)
Read my recent angst please : Damnation
Read my most recent fluff: LNDS Boys as Daddies
Warnings: fluffy af, sfw
Rafayel knows that you know he does not like waiting. But, he also knows the risk of your job and how it sometimes take up a lot of your time. But in this scenario, BOTH of your time. Rafayel sat at home, hands holding his phone, and his eyes would not wander off of the screen. Highly anticipating for a call, a text even. But it never came.
"Rafayel!" The door busted opened, and his burgundy-shaded eyes darted up. His eyes widened as he noticed your arrival, but narrowed again and he turned his head away from you. "Rafayel, I am so so sorry. I had totally forgotten about our date today!"
You walked in, pulling onto the hem of your dress, the one that Rafayel had got it specially tailored for you just for the dinner function you guys would be attending tonight. But, you did promised him that prior to that event, both of you would grab ice cream together. Until, you slept late the night before and you nearly forgotten about the date.
"I do not have the energy to deal with a goldfish. And, I am certainly not going to entertain you." He tossed his phone onto his couch and crossed his arms over his chest, eyes still not facing you. You sat on the marble floor, and reached your hand out to touch his thigh and you watched as the tip of his ear turned rubicund, matching the tint on the apples of his cheeks. Knowing him well enough, the pout on his lips would make him look like a puffer fish. Puff for me or puff me please.
"Rafayel, I am really sorry okay, I did not mean to forget about this date. I just fell asleep pretty late last night as I was filing reports for all of the recent areas that wanderers had appeared and the deadline is today." You sighed and rubbed your hands against his thigh. Eyes scanning his body language, hoping he would not toss a fuss. Not that you mind, but you figured that you would not want him to pull out of the event last minute as this dress of yours does cost him a pretty penny and you wanted the dress to serve its purpose.
His hand reached out to grab yours, to silently indicate you to stop and he turned around to look at you. The pout that was no longer evident on his lips silently made you wished you had teased him further. He actually looked adorable with that pout of his and sometimes it is worth the trouble just to witness it.
Taking in your features, dark circles seemed to be an accessory for your face nowadays. Sighing, he held your cheeks in his lanky hands. "I see that you have not manage to do your makeup. Would you like me to do it for you instead?"
"No no, Rafayel. I was late, I could not possibly ask you to do my makeup! I can do it myself, I brought my makeup along!" You mustered a smile on your face, hands rustling through your bagpack and you pulled out a small pouch, filled with all of the makeup necessities you need for an event. The sight of the makeup bag did not impressed Rafayel but instead made him scoffed at you in return.
"That is a small makeup bag for such a big event. My lover cannot appear looking like a hag, she has to look like a queen. And a queen I shall make her to be. I have better makeup equipment than you eventhough I am a guy." Rafayel tossed his hair back and used his hands to run through his silky purple strands.
"You mean those?" Index finger pointing towards the stacks of paints by the other side of the room. "God knows what other infection I will get this time. The last time you did my makeup with those paints, I ended up with conjunctivitis."
"Hey hey, now, you may insult the tools I have, but you never insult my skills, yeah? I would still admit I did a pretty good job with paint for makeup." He spoke proudly and he stood up, walking off to his lavish bedroom. It did not took him long before he appeared with a bucket bag in his hand. "So I made preparations this time."
He sat down on the floor, in front of you this time, and he opened the bucket bag to reveal all of the makeup tools. They all looked very new and awfully expensive. With silver handles and bristles that looked like it was made out of the finest hairs within the makeup industry you could imagine. "That is a lot of makeup." You blurted out. Can you imagine how many videos he had watched just to get the right makeup kit for you?
"It is to save you from having to bring over your makeup next time and gives me another outlet to channel my creativity. How about we both stay home for now and I take the time to do your makeup, yeah?" He nudged your nose, a smile forming on his pink lips. "I know that I do not like waiting, but for you, I will always be more than willing to wait."
Xavier stood outside of the claw machine outlet, arms crossed on the front of his chest and he was looking everywhere. For you. He glanced down at his hunter's watch. 2pm. But he has not even seen your face since the last hour. You were supposed to meet up at 1pm, but your no-show is getting him a little worried.
He took his phone out of his pocket, going through messages, sliding thoroughly across his message app to ensure he does not miss out on anything: Jeremy...work...work...Jeremy. He really has no friends I guess. Welp, less time for others, more time for you! But none from you. As he was about to give you a call, his cerulean eyes caught sight of you running past the square, before stopping to look at traffic and you continued running. By the time you arrived in front of him, you were huffing and panting. Hands on your knees as you struggled to catch your breath.
"Did your work held you back?" Xavier bent down, clearly concerned as he was analysing the way you were breathing. His eyes at the meantime, scanned your body to ensure that you did not have any wounds on you till he came to your shoes. It was rare for you to wear heels given your job and that you have to constantly be on watch for your surroundings. Xavier's eyes could not leave your pink platform heels. "You ran in those?"
The pointing towards your heels made you snapped your head up to his and his eyes widened, as if he was shocked at your sudden reaction. "Yeah, I figured I might as well dress up a little as this is a date afterall. And furthermore, these heels are only 2cm in height, it will not stop me from fighting wanderers. Stylish and practical." Your chirped, answering his question and giving him extra information that you know he would ask eventually. As you stand up straight, he finally get to take a look at your whole outfit. A white loose polyester-made sweatshirt tucked in behind a denim overall skirt, and it is clear as day that you had put on some makeup. "What are you looking at?"
"It...uhm...you look different." He said, hands coming up to rub his lips, a nature of his when he is either flabbergasted or in awe. "I think you look pretty today." His eyes caught yours again and you felt your cheeks heat up.
"Oh yeah, before i forget, I am sorry Xa---." You wanted to apologise for making him wait for an hour for you. There are times where you would be late to work or to a date, but being an hour late is definitely inexcusable and Xavier had every right to receive compensation from you.
"Don't be." He interrupted you mid way and disregarded your apology. "I can wait. I had nothing to do anyways. I even managed to take a short nap as I was waiting for you." He displayed a small smile, a comforting one. "But I would like for you to pay for my meal as you did made me wait for you for an hour."
Hearing that request, you could not stop a smile from appearing onto your face. Getting complimented by him and also getting forgiven by him seemed like a huge green flag to you and well, you are his afterall as he is to you. You finally take your time to analyse his outfit for the date. There is no doubt he put some effort into this date as well.
A white shirt with black slacks, with a pale yellow cardigan for the an accent of colour to his outfit. Guess he is not that bad at dressing himself up. "You look dashing as well yourself." You complimented and his eyes caught yours once again, a smile emerging on his face. "I like the colours that you had chosen for today. It fits your aesthetic, especially with your blonde hair, the pale yellow really suits you." We all love the soft boys aesthetic, especially if Xavier is your type, squeal.
"I did took some time to research on the outfits that guys would usually wear for dates. Most of the searches showed tuxedos and blazers but I figured that would be too much for casual dates so I ended up settling for this." He gestured towards his own outfit, his tone carrying a hint proudness when he talked about his searching progress. "Anyways, what you do you plan to eat?"
"How does hotpot sound, Xavier?" You reached out to grab his hand and he took the chance to intertwine his fingers with you as both of you started walking down the street together. You noticed how some passerbys would eye Xavier, I mean, who would not? He is such an eye candy especially with the outfit he had chosen for himself.
Xavier looked up at the sky, what was once a sunny scene is now becoming gloomy, with dark clouds closing in one another. A rain is expected to be arriving. "Hotpot in rain sounds like a great date to me. And I personally think with you accompanying me to eat hotpot, I would gladly wait for you always."
The ringing of your phone blasted through the silence of your room and you were jolted awake. You hastily grabbed the device and held it to your ear. "Where are you?" Zayne's voice rang through your speaker.
You sprung up on your bed, the sudden movement made your bed creak and you hear another sentence came through your phone. "Were you asleep?" You hesitated, as you did not want his suspicion to be confirmed. But you did not even get a chance to answer before he spoke. "I am coming over now."
You hurriedly rushed to the bathroom, thinking you could tidy yourself up to give yourself a better reason to explain on why you were late for the morning coffee date you had set with Zayne since last week. But your late night movie marathon gave you such a dopamine rush that your had forgotten the dictionary word of 'sleep' and 'waking up early for a date'.
After you had brushed your teeth, you were going to take a shower next before the sound of the doorbell spooked you. IT WAS BARELY 3 minutes. How close was he to your house? The last you recalled, the coffee shop you guys were planning to visit was halfway across town and that would take around a 30 minutes drive. Another ring of the doorbell turned your fast walk into a straight up sprint, running past the corner of your house to get to the front door. But a slip on your floor mat, made you stumbled and you hit your shin against your coffee table and you squeaked. Yes, squeaked like a rat.
Once you got to the door, you unlocked the bolt and you opened your door, revealing the tall man, wearing all black, with dark features being his trademark. You adjusted your stance and stood still, eyes wandered everywhere, purposely avoiding his intense stare. "You looked like you were in your dreamland." His monotonous voice cut through the tension in between you two. "Is that the reason why you were late?"
You stood aside as he took a step into your house, taking his leather shoes off and he placed it on your shoe rack neatly. "I am sorry Zayne." You closed the door, and muttered your apology as you turned around to face the towering man. "I overslept and forgotten about our date. I am really sorry."
"You do know that if you constantly sleep late at night, it would deteriorate your health right?" He reached out his hand to the small of your back and he slowly guided you towards the couch in your living area. You nodded, eyes still refusing to meet his as you felt guilt eating into your gut. Noticing how you were slightly limping on one leg, he squatted down immediately to take a look at your leg. "It seems like the bang that I had heard just now was from you."
"I...I did not want to make you wait at the door as I was already late for our date." You muttered and mustered just enough courage to run your hands through his slick black hair. His hazel-green eyes looked up to catch yours and he seemed to relax a little. "I am sorry Zayne."
"Come, let's get you seated." Before you could say anything, he lifted you up bridal style and took a few long strides before seating you onto the couch. "Getting yourself hurt just so you can reach to me on time is not an ideal scenario to me. The last thing I would want is for you to be hurt. Wait here." He stood up and took strides towards your bathroom, probably to get your med kit.
Indeed, he comes back with the med kit and immediately started working on the small cut accompanied by a bruise on your shin, applying antiseptic on it before placing a plaster onto the wound. "I am sorry Zayne. I will not be late again. It is so careless of me to miss out on our date when today is one of the only days I get to meet you throughout the week."
"People forget, it is part of the human's nature. Eventhough I am busy, you can always stop by to visit me at Akso Hospital. I can schedule my surgeries to have short breaks in between if your concern is that we are not spending enough time together." His respond is the method he uses to accept your apology. He is not good with comfort, but he does have his ways to show you that he cares about you and about this relationship. "Does your shin still hurt?"
The shake of your head indicated a no and he took in a deep breath, packing the items he had used for your wound back into the med kit and he took a small stool and sat onto it. A big man on a small stool making me gag through my laughs. Although the stool is not that tall, but with a giant like him sitting on it, his eyes are levelled against you. This allows him to see you at a better angle, to analyse your facial features better.
"How long have you been waiting for me?" You asked, eyes looking into his mesmerizing ones and he took your small hand into his. His eyes looked down towards your calloused fingers and he placed a kiss onto the back of your hand, his warm lips no longer a foreign feeling on your skin. Your cheeks flushed at the interaction.
"I figured I could fetch you there instead of having you to sit on public transports to reach there. So, I had my car parked outside of your condo since an hour ago." He said, hands reaching up to touch the side of your cheeks. "Although I was a little frustrated that you were taking a while, but I was more concerned on what had happened to you. You are weaker than what you seem."
"I am not weak." You responded, lip turning into a frown. The sight of you pouting at him calling you weak made him smile. "I was just busy watching movies that I liked yesterday night and I just happened to sleep late. But I am in no way weak or whatsoever. I can take care of myself just fine."
"I never doubted your capabilities to take care of yourself. But for some instances---" He pointed at your plastered shin and flashed you a smirk. "I am glad to identify myself as your appointed physician. But you said that you were watching movies till late night yesterday, and that you overslept?"
You nodded and he added on. "Then I suppose as your prime physician, I would advise you not to sleep late anymore. Instead, we can both watch however much movies you want whenever we are on a date so that could probably prevent you from oversleeping on our dates right?" He looked at you with comforting eyes and he pulled you to sit onto his lap. "And regardless, waiting for you will always be better than seeing you being hurt."
I may or may not have gone haywire on the wordings, so hopefully these would give you guys a good brain rot.
Drop me comments as it would brighten up my day and lemme know if you have any requests as well for any stories :)
#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#xavier love and deepspace#lnds#fluffy#fluff#lnds x reader
575 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi, I would love to request a Joel fic. I love your work and appreciate all of the effort you put into your work.
I’d love something where reader and Joel have always tried to keep their distance from each other because they don’t want to get emotionally attached. But one night they’re drinking alone and reader kind of confesses her feelings without thinking. And Joel doesn’t really know how to respond.
So the next morning he acts like he doesn’t remember because he’s afraid to be with someone. And it hurts reader’s feelings, but she just doesn’t bring it up.
Until one evening they’re on a run together and they stay in a safe house for the night and reader can’t distract herself anymore and she confronts him. Maybe it turns into a passionate fight where he admits he remembered but was too scared to say how he felt.
Maybe ending with some steamy smut with a soft ending? I love a good pining/angst/smut combo and I think you’d absolutely kill this. Of course no pressure if you’re not into it! Thank you for doing what you do and I hope you have a lovely day!
Thank you so much you’re so sweet 🥹🥰 Absolutely loved this request. I changed it up just slightly but I hope you enjoy 😉
Trying Not To Love You
Pairings: Joel Miller x f!reader
Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, mutual pining, oral (female receiving), hidden feelings, confessions, flirting, jealousy, little bit of angst, mentions of drugs and alcohol.
Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰
You were feeling the light buzz from the alcohol tickle beneath the surface of your skin, the whiskey warming you from the inside out as it slid smoothly down your throat. As soon as Tommy had left the tipsy bison, Joel had cracked open the good stuff.
It was a rare occasion that you’d both get this time alone, especially since arriving back at Jackson a few months ago. You were both either out on patrol or too tired to do anything other than sleep.
“I still can’t believe this is our life now,” you say as you sit at the bar sipping on your drink. Joel hums in agreement, shifting on his stool so he’s facing you.
“Feels too good to be true, doesn’t it? Doesn't seem right neither, us here livin’ a normal life while the world is gone to shit.” You can feel his eyes on you as he speaks and god the sound of his voice - that deep southern drawl that gets more prominent when he drinks - stirs something in you.
“I know what you mean but we’ve earned it Joel. All the shit we’ve been through, this is what we deserve.”
“I guess. Just makes me on edge knowing it could all be gone in the blink of an eye.” He downs his drink and leans across the bar to pour himself another.
You use the opportunity to take him in. The way his hair has grown slightly longer, curling at the ends, a significantly more amount of grey littering his dark locks since Boston. The stretch of his plaid shirt across his broad back and shoulders. The sun kissed skin that peeks out from under his shirt at his neck.
Your gaze drifts to his hands and the way the bottle seems so small in comparison. You shiver at the memory of how those very hands gripped your hips last night as he drove into you from behind.
“God, I love you,” you whisper, freezing when you see the way his shoulders tense. Fuck! I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
You were never supposed to feel like this. Weren’t supposed to fall in love. Sure, you both enjoyed each other’s company and fucked when the need arose but that’s as far as it went. You both tried to keep it simple. No living together. No feelings. Just casual. It was easier that way because you had nothing to lose then. Or at least that’s what you told yourself.
“I - I, you….” He stammers as he pours himself more whiskey before turning to you with a wry smile and topping yours up too. “Ellie seems to be settling in just fine,” he stated, quickly changing the subject, his eyes avoiding your gaze at all costs.
“Yeah,” you coughed, the whiskey getting caught with your breath. “She’s eh - she’s made some friends. It’s nice, seeing her happy.”
Joel didn’t say much after that, just nodding his head or humming in agreement and when the bottle was gone, you both got up to leave. “G’night.” He muttered as he turned away from you and walked towards his house.
“Night,” you whisper as you wait for him to disappear inside before letting out a sigh and making your way home. Why did you have to fall in love with him?
***
The following morning you had patrol bright and early and as you made your way towards the main gate, you caught a glimpse of Joel standing off to the side having a very animated conversation with Julie.
Of course, she’s with him. She’d been smitten with Joel since you all arrived in Jackson. You weren’t in the mood for this today. You weren’t in the mood for her today. You didn’t get much sleep last night, unable to get what you’d said out of your head. Why didn’t he say anything? Does he not feel the same? Did he even hear me?
You’d planned to address it this morning and clear the air, not wanting to make things awkward between you both. So, taking a deep breath, you sidle up beside him not missing the glare Julie sends your way as you gently touch his arm, drawing his attention to you.
“Hey,” you smile softly at him and his face morphs into that scowl you’ve come to love. “Can I have a word?”
Joel nods before turning back to Julie and saying that he would see her later. “Somethin’ wrong, darlin’?”
God, I love when he calls me that.
“I just wanted to talk about last night. What I said…I…” Joel furrows his brows as he leans against the fence. “Darlin, I’m ashamed to say, I don’t remember much bout last night. That was some strong whiskey,” he laughs, his eyes meeting yours briefly as he looks around at the others gathering at the gate.
“Oh! Okay. Umm, then never mind I guess.” You feel as if you’ve been stabbed in the gut as your stomach twists into knots. He doesn’t even fucking remeber. Of course, he doesn’t.
“Come on. Best get goin’, we want to be back before nightfall.” Joel pushes off the fence and walks towards the main gate, not bothering to throw you a backward glance as he makes his way out of the town.
Your heart aches, feeling almost like you’ve been rejected but at least this meant that you could both carry on as if nothing happened. Right?
***
Her laugh was shrill as she looked down at her feet, twirling that strand of hair between her fingers as she walked beside Joel.
You roll your eyes for the third time and huff loudly as you watch her flirt with him. The man was oblivious. Alway has been, never believing you or Ellie when you say that someone was flirting with him.
“You and him have a fight?” Tommy asks as he jogs up beside you, trying to keep up the pace. “Hmm?” You mutter as you keep your gaze focused on the man in front of you. The smile he has plastered across his face makes you nauseous.
“You two are usually joined at the hip. He never leaves your side and now he’s up there with….”
“Miss Jackson 2023.” Your tone is clipped and the scowl on your face deepens. Tommy bursts into laughter causing Joel and Julie to turn their gaze in your direction.
“Who pissed in your cereal this mornin?” Tommy asked, a wide smile on his face as he nudged your shoulder. You let your gaze drift from Joel to Tommy and you can’t help but let out a little chuckle.
“M’sorry. Just didn’t sleep much last night. Me and Joel are…we’re good.” Tommy hummed as he let his eyes drift between you and his brother, not missing the way Joel’s gaze lingered on you.
“If you say so. Come on,” he states as he pushes forward, leaving you trailing behind. “Fucking Millers,” you mutter under your breath as you jog after him.
Later that night, you waited for Joel in your dining room. Dinner was waiting on the stove to be heated as soon as he came but as the hours ticked by, you began to realise he wasn’t coming.
That ache in your chest that you had earlier when you saw him smiling at Julie began to creep in again. Where was he? He always came for dinner on Friday night. It had become somewhat of a tradition since living in Jackson. You’d both have dinner here and then somehow find yourself in your bed, wrapped in each other's arms.
The voice in your head told you to go to the Tipsy Bison and see if he was there with her, but with a sigh, you turn out your lights and have an early night.
Maybe he’ll come here tomorrow?
***
He didn’t show Saturday either. Or Sunday and when Monday rolled around, you’d gone from feeling sorry for yourself to downright angry.
What the fuck was he playing at? Why was he being so distant?
Grabbing your bag, you throw it over your shoulders and make your way down the street to the main gate. Tommy had come by the day before to ask if you’d be willing to make a special run for medical supplies to which you happily agreed, as long as it wasn’t with Joel.
Fixing your knife into your belt, you’re startled when you hear that familiar southern drawl. “Hope you brought your gun too, darlin?” Joel stood to the side of the gate with Tommy.
Both Miller brother’s gaze were fixed on you but yours was only focused on Tommy, who you greeted with a scowl.
“What’re you doing here?” You ask as your eyes drift back to Joel, that ache in your chest returning with a vengeance.
“I told ya before, I don’t feel comfortable with you going on runs without me.” He’s staring at you, but his face gives nothing away which only serves to anger you more.
“I don’t need no damn babysitter, Joel. I can handle it. Besides, Jason was gonna be tagging along.” You stood with your hands crossed across your chest, eyes narrowed as you snarked at him.
“Never said you needed a babysitter. I know you’re more than capable of handlin things, but you know I ain’t ever able to sit still when you head out without me.”
“Surprised you’d even notice,” you muttered under your breath. “Fine. If you’re insisting on coming, then let’s head out. I wanna be home before dark.” You turn with a finger pointed to Tommy. “You. I’m gonna be having a word with you when I get back.”
You turn and march off leaving both Miller men staring after you. “Good luck with that,” Tommy says, clapping his big brother on the back. Joel scoffs as he turns to follow you.
***
You could cut the awkward tension with a knife and every time you snuck a glance at Joel, you found him already staring at you. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
“I think we’ve got pretty much everything on the list, we should start making our way back.” You state as you turn away from the shelf, stuffing the antibiotics into your bag.
Joel’s keeping watch, his gaze fixed out the window and gun cocked, and you can’t help but admire him. No. You gotta stop this. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath before closing the gap between you.
He startles when you gently place your hand on his arm. “Did you hear me? We’ve got everything we need.” His gaze holds your own for a moment and you wish he felt the same way you did.
Clearing his throat, he steps back slightly, your hand falling away from him, and you pull it towards your chest before swallowing the lump in your throat.
He steps around you and opens the door slowly, scanning the area before ushering you outside. You’re both halfway down the street when you make out distant voices.
“Fuck.” He curses as his head moves toward the sound. Five men emerge from the tree line and he grabs you by the arm and pulls you along behind him.
“Joel,” you say nervously as he continues to pull you along. His grip getting tighter on your arm and hurting you. “What - what are we gonna do? They’re blocking the way home.”
He doesn’t answer. He just continues to move through the small town quickly as he tries to get you both to safety. He turns abruptly and you gasp.
“Tommy has a safe house nearby. We’re gonna have to stay the night and wait it out.” His face is stern, but you can see the hint of worry in his eyes as they scan your face.
You look over your shoulder, seeing some of the men making their way to the pharmacy and Joel gently whispers your name.
“We can’t take them on. We’re outnumbered. I ain’t risking it. I ain’t risking you.” Your breathing becomes ragged, and his hand gently caresses your cheek. “Come on, darlin’. We gotta go.” He grabs your hand in his and moves you quickly through the town, making sure to stay out of sight before you both disappear through the trees.
***
Night has fallen and Joel is out back grabbing some wood for the stove while you heat up some canned pasta. You’d argued that it was too dangerous to light a fire, but he’d said the cabin was too far out for anyone to see the smoke.
It beats having to huddle for warmth, you think to yourself as you stir the pot. He pushes open the door and throws a log into the stove before moving up behind you.
“Smells good,” he hums, his breath hot on your neck as his hand brushes along your lower back. “It’s almost done. You can sit by the fire. I’ll bring it over in a minute.”
Glancing at him over your shoulder, you see he has taken his boots off and your heart aches at the sight of him looking so relaxed. The cabin and the fire and the two of you alone it’s so domestic and that makes it hurt even more.
Handing him his bowl of pasta, you take a seat on the couch beside him as you both tuck into dinner.
It’s quiet. Too quiet and normally it doesn't bother you. Joel is always kind of quiet, but this is different. There’s an awkward tension in the air and you begin to feel claustrophobic.
You can feel his eyes on you, and it just gets to be too much. “Stop,” you shout as you stand abruptly, turning to face him.
“What are you talking about, darlin?” He scoots to the edge of the couch, hands held up as if in surrender.
“Don’t darlin’ me, Joel. Ugh…. I can’t do this anymore.” You clench your hands into fist as they hang at your side and begin to storm off toward the bedroom.
His hand on your arm stops you though as he slowly steps around the couch to face you. “Baby,” he whispers as he places both his hands on your cheeks. “Talk to me.”
“No! No, you don’t get to do that to me Joel. You don’t get to ignore me for the last four days and then come here and start calling me baby. I’m not your baby. Or your darlin’ and you made that pretty fucking clear the other night when you completely ignored what I said.”
Something shifts behind his eyes, and you know you were right all along about that night. “I don’t….” He mutters but you're quick to cut him off.
“Oh, pull the other one. I know you heard me that night at the bar. I know you heard me say I love you and you made me fucking think you were too drunk to remember. Jesus, Joel. Do I really mean so little to you?”
He shakes his head, but you don’t want to know what he has to say, not anymore. You pull out of his grasp and try to hold back the sobs as you make your way into the only bedroom.
“Shit.” You can hear him curse before the sound of his footsteps echo behind you.
“You’re right. I did hear you and the reason I didn’t say anything that night was because I was scared. I am scared. We’ve been together since Boston and in that time, I’ve grown to care about you. I’ve - fuck, I love you, alright. I fucking love you and it scares the shit outta me because if anythin were to happen to you, it would break me.”
His breathing was ragged as tears shimmered in his eyes. You stood staring at him in shock at what he’d just confessed, and you could feel your heart swell at his words.
“I love you, baby, and I’m sorry for how I behaved that night, for how I’ve been behavin. I thought I could let you go but I can’t, and I don’t want neither. Think you can forgive this old fool?”
You chuckle, unable to believe that you both are such idiots, and you can see the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile as he slowly moves towards you. His hand reaches out, wrapping around your waist and pulling you close.
“Well, what do ya say,” he asks as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I think I can forgive you, as long as you promise to never ignore me again.”
He rests his forehead head against yours, his eyes closing as he lets out a contented sigh. “I swear it, baby. Can I kiss you now?”
His eyes are open now and staring down at you and you feel like you’re on cloud nine. Nodding your head he places his hand under your chin and tilts your mouth towards his own before kissing you.
Is this really happening?
It’s soft at first. His lips gently caress yours until he licks along your bottom lip. When your tongues meet it’s as if you’re two horny teenagers unable to get enough of each other. His hands grab at your ass, and you squeal when he places his hands around your thighs and lifts you.
You wrap your legs around his waist, and he walks you over to the bed, laying you down gently.
Joel is quick to rid you of your clothes, the rough pads of his fingers skimming along your curves. His own clothes join yours on the floor shortly after. His eyes glaze over with lust as he stands at the edge of the bed taking in your naked form. “So, fucking beautiful baby,” he breaths, his voice husky with need.
You rest your head on the pillows and watch as he crawls up the bed towards you, his lips trailing light kisses along your legs and thighs.
“What are you doing, Joel?” His gaze moves along your naked curves until it meets yours. “Gotta make it up to ya darlin,” he rasps and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.
His breath is hot on your skin as he hovers over your aching cunt. His tongue glides along your slick as he teases you. Lifting your hips you plead with him, desperately needing him to touch you. “Please!”
He raises a brow and smiles at you before me burying his face into your curls. “Ooh!” You moan as your back arches off the bed, hands finding purchase in his hair. He moves your legs over his shoulders and buries his tongue inside you.
You writhe beneath him as pleasure begins to build. He alternates between licking and sucking and shoving his tongue inside you that you are a complete and utter mess on the bed below him. That familiar heat begins to form, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to that edge.
“Oh God,” you moan, as your orgasm rips through you. Your body shudders as you come down from your high.
“Taste so sweet, darlin,” he says as he moves up your body, peppering light kisses along your skin. He’s flush against you, the tip of him nudging at your entrance and with one roll of his hips, he stretches you open. He groans loudly as he fills you to the hilt, his eyes closed as he tries to calm himself, desperately hoping he doesn’t cum within two minutes.
Once he has control of himself, he begins to rock into you, his cock pulling out to the tip before pushing back in. You're already sensitive from your earlier orgasm and the way he’s stimulating your clit with his cock has you whimpering beneath him.
His hands grip onto your waist, fingers digging into your soft skin as he sits back onto his knees, pulling you to with him so you’re sat atop him.
He holds you down with his right hand as he pistons his hips up into you, his left kneading your breast as he pulls your pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucks. Your head falls back between your shoulders as you cry out his name. “Joel.”
Clenching around him, he groans - his head resting between your breasts, the feeling of you wrapped around him making him dizzy.
His hands grip your hips as you begin to move with him - rolling your hips over him. You shudder in his arms as your cunt clenched around him once again - his trusts become erratic as he nears the edge.
He grips your hips and lifts you off him as he cums, coating your thighs with his release. As much as you’d love him to finish inside you, you know that it’s too risky.
His eyes are staring at your thighs. At where he’s marked you with his spend. “So pretty,” he mutters as he lifts his gaze toward you. “I love you darlin.”
“I love you too. I’m gonna need to have a shower after that,” you giggle and he pulls you into him, kissing your lips softly.
“How about I run us a bath? Sound good?” He smiles at you, moving a start piece of hair behind your ear.
“That sounds like heaven.”
Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny
@littlemisspascal
@thatpinkshirt @maryfanson
@sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog
@its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso
@doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @hungrhay @rosie-posie08
@manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here
@iccedays
@tusk89 @graciexmarvel
@pedrostories @musings-of-a-rose
@untitledarea @your-voice-is-mellifluous @majestyjade @avengersfan25 @angstismydrug
@mydailyhyperfixations @everythingfan
@pedrosbum
@ryangoslingstanktop
@dzaga890
#pedro pascal#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller smut#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x female reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller tlou
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
my body is my weapon
for @steddieholidaydrabbles popup event for 'spring'
rated t | 734 words | cw: canon-typical violence, mild blood | tags: self-sacrificing steve, hurt/comfort, getting together
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩
Steve was good at this, springing up from nowhere, nail bat in hand, ready to protect his found family. It was a natural instinct at this point.
Didn't matter the cost, didn't matter if he was the only one willing. If Vecna wanted to take someone, he could take him.
With Eddie barely recovered from his first bout in the Upside Down, Max still in a coma, and Lucas being glued to her side to make sure nothing happened, the crew was a little short staffed.
But Steve would make sure that didn't matter.
They prepared as much as they could, which wasn't nearly as much as they should. Vecna was strong, stronger than they expected him to be, and his creatures were wearing them down before he even came to fight.
But El was stronger.
As Steve lay on the ground, bleeding more than he ever had before, certain of his life being over, he thought about every time he'd put himself in front of the kids.
He had no regrets, but he wished it could've played out differently.
Hands on his shoulders made him open his eyes, but his vision was blurry and his head was pounding. Probably another concussion.
"You don't get to die."
Eddie? How was he- why was he here? He was supposed to stay topside to call for help the moment he was signaled.
Maybe Steve was delusional in his last moments. Eddie mentioned that he was hallucinating from the blood loss when it happened to him.
"Steve. Keep your eyes on me," Eddie's voice was panicked. "God, you always have to spring into action, huh? Can't wait ten seconds for someone to help."
"Ed."
Steve could make out the outline of his head, but not details.
"'S what 'm good for."
"That's bullshit."
And then everything went black.
Steve's only thought was that he wished the last things he heard weren't those words.
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩
His head was pounding again, and the incessant beeping surrounding him wasn't helping.
"If it hurts, don't open your eyes."
The voice sounded an awful lot like Eddie.
"Mm. Thirsty," Steve whispered.
"I got you," Eddie's hand was on the back of his head, gently lifting, while the other must have been holding a cup of room temperature water to his lips. "Little sips."
Steve didn't think much of what was going on. If this was the afterlife, at least he had someone taking care of him.
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩
The next time Steve was conscious, his head wasn't pounding and he could tell the room around him was dark.
He opened his eyes, slowly taking in the hospital room.
Eddie was asleep in the chair next to his bed.
He looked uncomfortable.
Steve tried to shift onto his side, but a lightning bolt of pain shot from his shoulder to his knee, and he couldn't quite contain the gasp he let out.
Eddie's eyes shot open as he stood from the chair, leaning over Steve to see what hurt.
"Shit, are you okay?" Eddie asked as his hands hovered over Steve's heavily wrapped up body.
"Mhm. Jus' hurt," Steve managed to say, his voice raspy. "How?"
"How long have you been out?" Eddie waited for Steve's nod to continue. "First bit was about three days, then you woke up for a minute yesterday."
"Alive?"
"Yeah," Eddie's tone shifted to something more serious, darker. "But no thanks to you. You're good for a lot more than standing in front of monsters, Stevie. You know that, right?"
Steve shrugged one shoulder. "Kinda."
Eddie's hands gently cupped his face, eyes softening as Steve focused on him.
"You're more than a weapon. You're more than an expendable body. You understand me?" Eddie's voice shook as Steve gave a short nod. "You're my world. I can't see my world end."
"I am?"
"Despite my best efforts of trying to move on from the stupid crush I had on you, yeah," Eddie sighed. "Nursed me back to health and made me fall in love with you."
"Not bullshit?" Steve's eyes felt heavy, but he had to fight it, had to have this talk with Eddie before he passed out again.
"Never. You're everything, Steve Harrington. And when you can keep your eyes open for more than two minutes, I'm gonna kiss you so hard it bruises."
Steve smiled as his eyes closed.
Eddie's hands carried him out of hell and into forever.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddieholidaydrabbles#pop up event#spring#cw: canon typical violence#cw: mild blood#hurt/comfort#getting together
444 notes
·
View notes
Note
if you’re taking requests still .. what about latina!reader meeting older!rafes daughter and becoming friends with her and also fucking rafe behind her back 🫢
to put things quite simply: rafe cameron was relieved that his incessantly introverted daughter had finally made a friend. sure, it took her a little longer than expected, she’d remained to herself throughout the entirety of her early school years, but now she was nineteen years old, a freshman in college — and she’d finally made her first official friend. what struck rafe the most about his little girl’s new friend was how different you were from her, you actually put effort into your appearance — immaculately shiny and well kept hair, perfectly applied makeup that accentuated your already tantalizing features, and clothes that showed just enough of you that left rafe wanting more … much to his utter embarrassment and dismay. and god, he loved the way his name rolled off our your latin tongue.
he wasn’t exactly sure when his feelings for you developed, all he knew was it had about a year, since he kissed you for the first time. and now, he had you bent over the desk in his office, his thick cock ramming into your tight and warm wetness, while his wedding ring-clad finger, deliciously massaged your clit. he loved the way you smiled with gritted teeth as you took his entire length like the pillow princess you were. and, all it took was him cumming deep inside of you to realize that he had to keep you around, at all costs. his perked up ears didn’t miss the way you giggled, all cock-drunk at the ‘pop’ when his fat length slid out of your inviting pussy.
taking a moment to steady his breathing, rafe grinned like an idiot, pressing a kiss to your spine, as he softly patted the plush skin of your ass, earning a cute whine from you, “jesus christ, y’did so fuckin’ good, pretty girl,” rafe praised, his eyes hung low as you crouched down, spreading you soft ass cheeks, maintaining his smile at the sight of his cum slowly oozing out of your glistening hole. pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your butt-cheek, rafe stood up, watching as you straightened yourself up with slightly wobbly legs, “i want you to stay the night,” he spoke decidedly, licking over his lips as you spun on your heels, leaning back against his desk.
sinking your top teeth into the fat of your bottom lip, you stretched your swollen lips into a nodding smile, before you shrugged, “and i want you to leave your wife, papi,” you retorted, pulling your lips into a needy pout as rafe sighed, watching as you picked up the photo of rafe, his wife, and daughter that laid peacefully on the corner of his desk, “i guess we have to wait to get what we want, huh?” you forced a smile, placing the picture frame back into its rightful position on the desk, before swallowing thickly.
you cared deeply about rafe’s daughter, you saw how timid she was, how lonely she’d been prior to meeting you, and sure, it was pretty messed up that you’d been fucking her father and having a secret relationship, but you couldn’t control who your heart wanted — it just so happened to be the father of your best friend.
rafe wasn’t happy with his wife, he’d just so happened to become comfortable with their repetitive routine, and the the age gap between you two always rung in the back of his mind. he loved those secret rendezvous with you, whether he took you for a shopping day on the mainland, or managed to steal you away for a long weekend on some random resort, rafe loved when it was you two, away from the harsh reality that was his marriage and you being his daughter’s best friend.
“y’know it’s not that easy, baby — i can’t just fuckin’ get divorced because you want me to, she’s my daughter’s mother,” rafe spoke sternly, now standing directly in front of you, nudging your chin with the side of his index finger as you refused to look at him. with a sigh, rafe place his hands on either side of you, glancing up at you through hooded eyes, “c’mon, don’t be mad at me, princess, y’know i can’t take it,” he pouted playfully, his heart swelling just a bit as you struggled to bite back a smile, before your doe eyes fell on his. with a roll of your eyes, you sighed defeatedly.
deciding to table the conversation, for now, you pushed yourself up to sit on the desk, “i’m sticky, we should take a shower,” you hummed, pulling rafe in closer to you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. pressing a kiss to his neck, you playfully caught his chain between your teeth with a small laugh, “you’re sweaty,” you commented, pulling away as rafe captured your puffy lips into a warm kiss. letting out a soft moan, you wrapped your arms around rafe’s neck as you smiled into the kiss.
sealing the kiss with a peck to your lips, rafe chuckled breathily as he pulled away, a smirk on his face as you wiped his shiny lips with your thumb, “a’ight, let’s go shower, yeah? can’t have my pretty girl walking around all dirty,” he huffed, sliding an arm under the curve of your ass, lifting you onto his waist. with a knowing laugh, rafe smiled as his shirt became sticky from the cum that dripped out of your sensitive pussy, “y’fuckin’ leaking, mama,” he teased further, earning an embarrassed whine from you as you hid your face in the crook of his neck.
pulling your head to face rafe, you couldn’t help but blush as he quickly stole a kiss from your parted lips, just as you were about to speak, “you’re the worst,” you spoke, causing rafe to hum dismissively as he walked backwards into the awaiting bathroom. the two of you completely oblivious to the sound of his wife’s car as it pulled into the driveway.
#anon#asks#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron#obx imagine#obx#younger!reader
456 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
iamcaledonia
I may be slightly obsessed.
bobthedragon2
bob's reblog and stuff
toxicantlockscreens
HEY HEY HAILEY
dieppes
dieppe's
queerlynx
i am not afraid to keep on living