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#thank you for the chicken with glasses
tricitymonsters · 10 months
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How would Mori react to an MC who is undeniably a cat person? Like they NEED to pet every cat they meet and have been late for things for that reason. So much so that their friends tease them for it. Oh, MC is late? They must have met a stray cat on the way.
he would make this stupid fucking face at you all the time ➡️ >:3 while abusing his cat mannerisms to a) get away with shit and b) monopolize all the attention you could possibly give him.
ALSO don't think for a second he won't literally turn into a cat as an Appeal Attempt for MORE attention too.
@epoch-smog once again has provided me with a Mori Abusing His Cat Powers to Gain Affection sketchdump/moodboard ft. their oc Jin who puts up with Mori for some reason
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writtenfangirl · 11 days
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Hungry For You
Another TikTok trend has sparked an idea in me.
Another (short) Charles Leclerc Fanfic
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Y/N spooned the food carefully on to the two plates, casting the hidden camera a wide grin as she did so. While the plates were similar in size, one had a significantly larger portion. The grilled chicken on one of the plates was practically the size of her palm, the pesto pasta still steaming as she dumped it on the plate. On her own plate, she placed barely a handful of food, the chicken cut into three small strips and the pasta’s serving size so tiny, not even a small cat would feel full.
“Babe, it’s time to eat!” Y/N called out as she shot her phone another wink. She’s placed the devise inside one of the cups of utensils, hidden away from Charles’ keen eyes. The camera had a full view of the kitchen island, where she and Charles frequently ate their meals when they were alone.
She heard his footsteps bounding towards the kitchen, the door to his gaming room slamming shut behind him.
“I am starving and it smells delicious.” He practically beamed at her as he took his place on the kitchen isle, oblivious to the camera that was filming his every move. “I don’t know how you manage to impress me with your cooking every time, cherie.”
“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”
“It’s pesto. I already know I’ll love it.”
Pesto pasta was one of his favorite dishes and with the aromatic smells of the basil and garlic hanging in the air, Y/N had no doubts about his statement.
She circled around the isle taking her seat next to Charles, placing the plate with the larger portions in front of him and the smaller sized portion in front of her. But Charles paid the food no heed.
He grinned up at her, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for cooking for us, cherie.”
He did this every time she cooked. Thanked her for her efforts and grinned up at her like she hung the moon and starts. And every single time, without fail, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of that smile.
She handed him his utensils, his food finally snagging his attention before his eyes wandered to her plate. He frowned at the sight of it. “Why is your food so little?”
“What do you mean?” She asked innocently as she took the pitcher of water she had set and carefully filling their glass.
“Your food, it is so little.”
“Yeah, this was all we had,” she shrugged. “I forgot to stop by the grocery store this week and this was the last of the chicken and the pasta.” She took her utensils, getting ready to dig in when all of a sudden her plate disappeared. 
“Charles? What are you doing?” Bewildered she watched as her boyfriend dumped the contents of her plate on to his already full one.
“Eat,” he said as he pushed the fully loaded plate in front of her. There was no annoyance in his eyes, no hint of his previous hunger as he looked at her in earnest, waiting for her to dig in.
“Babe, I’m not even really that hungry,” she protested. “Come on, you need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry either,” he shrugged.
Liar. He’d been complaining the whole time she was cooking about how hungry and excited he was to eat. He always got that way after a training session and he’d been training since 9AM. Whatever lunch Charles ate during a training day was usually only enough to get him going and by the time he found his way home, he was always positively starving. And Y/N knew today was no exception.
“Just five minutes ago you said you were starving,” she deadpanned.
“You spent two hours on your feet, cooking. I know how tiring that is. I really am not hungry.”
She rolled her eyes, even as love bloomed at her chest. “You came from training.”
He waved off her concerns. “I promise, I am not hungry. And tomorrow, I will go to the grocery, buy our stuff and cook you a meal.”
It was a true miracle that Y/N didn’t grab her boyfriend right then and there and drag him to the bedroom. How she managed to snag a boyfriend so thoughtful and so selfless was beyond her. “You’re sure you’re not hungry?”
He grinned at her, his voice going deep and husky as his eyes darkened. “I’m hungry for you.” He gave her what he probably thought was sultry wink but that only served to have Y/N howling in laughter.
There was no denying how in love she was with her boyfriend but she had always been immune to his attempts at flirting. His charms would no doubt have worked on other girls but Y/N only found them cute. 
She was shaking her head as she took the other plate and dumped half of the food onto it. She ignored his protesting as she pushed the other plate towards him. She had given him the bigger chunk of chicken and the bigger half of the pasta but the piles of food were still more or less equal to each other. She doubted he even noticed the slight difference, especially since she pushed the other plate far away from him. “If we’re still hungry at the end of the meal, we can go to the cafe down the street.” 
He raised a brow at her, a smirk pulling at his lips. His face was barely an inch away from her, his green eyes practically glittering as he spoke. “Is that your move, cherie? Starving a man so you can take him out on a coffee date?”
She didn’t even try to stop her laughter, not as Charles pulled her chair closer to his own until she was pressed flushed against him. His arm automatically pulled her to him, his own lips pulled into a smile before he lowered himself on to her mouth. Their kiss was sweet, as sweet as this moment was. A moment that Y/N was sure she would never forget.
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hangmanssunnies · 3 months
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The Hangman Special
Summary: On a night out with your friends at a fancy cocktail bar, you are just trying to keep your head down and ignore the girl that your ex cheated on you with. The night only seems like it's going to get worse when you are dared to kiss a stranger at the bar. However, it seems like the odds might finally be in your favor when you notice a familiar set of broad shoulders. If you can be convincing, you think you might just be able to get your brother's friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin to help you out with your little problem.
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Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader
Word count: 7k
AO3 Link
Warnings: 18+ only, kissing, hot and heavy make-outs, exs, truth or dare, bad friends.
Author's note: Dreaming about kissing Jake in a bar. Thanks to everyone who looked at earlier drafts of this. I hope you enjoy this if you take a chance to read. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.
The bar is buzzing with the loud chatter of patrons, the clinking of glasses, and the rhythmic beat of music. You are sitting at a corner table with your friends, a group with an eclectic mix of personalities. You are known for being more on the shy and reserved side, but tonight, you are even more withdrawn than usual. No one had mentioned that Tassie had also been invited to the evening's hang out at the bar. An oversight you felt was probably intentional since everyone knew Tassie had started dating your ex only a week after your breakup. She went so far as to post a picture of them together on her Instagram. It had been a few months since that happened, and until now, you had managed to avoid running into her. However, it seemed like luck had run out.
"Hey, I've got an idea that would spice up the night," Cece says after the first round of drinks. She is one of your bold and outspoken friends, and you aren't sure you like how she is eyeing you with a mischievous glint. "Let's play truth or dare." 
The whole group groans at the suggestion, and one of your friends vaguely wonders if you're all still in middle school playing that kind of game. Despite the initial lack of enthusiasm, after another round of drinks, the group is laughing and entrenched in the game. 
When Cece sings your name when she finishes her turn, you are nervous by the sly smile she is wearing as she formulates an option for you when you hesitantly concede to doing a dare. "You're the only one of us still single, so I dare you to go over to the bar and give somebody a kiss." 
"What?!" 
"Just a quick one, nothing too scandalous," Cece says placatingly. "Come on, live a little! It's just a bit of fun. What's the worst that could happen?"
"I bet they won't do it. They're too chicken for this kind of thing, not one to step out of their comfort zone," Tassie says. It makes your blood freeze in your veins because you know those words. You have heard that criticism thrown at you in the past, but not from her, from your ex. 
Your eyes narrow at her, and you ask, "Too chicken? Seriously?"
"Yeah. Please, prove us wrong. Show us you can do something spontaneous," Tassie taunts, grinning. You feel a surge of defiance welling up. Even though you're reserved, you are not one to back down from a challenge, especially not when the woman who cheated with your boyfriend is acting like you're the one who should be ashamed. Acting like she is better than you. 
"Fine, watch this," You declare, feeling hot with a mixture of embarrassment and determination. As you stand up, your friends exchange amused glances, convinced that you are about to back out of the dare. 
With absolutely no intention of  backing down, though, you scan the bar. After a moment of examination your heart soars because you realize you have this dare in the bag. You have the advantage even, because there is a familiar tall, broad-shouldered blonde at the bar that you know all too well. Jake Seresin, or Hangman, is one of your brother's best friends, and he is looking just as delectable tonight as he always does. The group would undeniably be impressed with you kissing someone so handsome, and you knew one way or another you could convince Jake to help you out. 
"Cece, I'll even let you pick since you made the dare. Point out the hottest man in the bar, and I'll kiss him." You say confidently. There is no doubt that Jake is the most attractive person there, and he is just Cece's type, too. She falls right into what you want, pointing Hangman out for you. The rest of your friend group hoots, making even more comments that you aren't going to follow through with the dare and approach someone who is that drop-dead gorgeous. 
Ignoring their taunts, you square your shoulders and walk with as much confidence as you can summon into sashaying across the bar. Putting mental effort into trying to project some form of hotness onto yourself not only for the confidence boost but also the bit of spite burning in you. 
Reaching the bartop area, the hesitation starts to set in as you admire Jake's profile. He is sitting on a bar stool leaning against the counter, patiently waiting for the bartender in the crowd that is starting to grow. Taking one last breath to steady yourself, you reach out and delicately set a hand on his bulging bicep. 
"Hangman!" You say brightly as if you're surprised to have run into him. Jake turns to face you at your touch, and an easy wide grin spreads across his face. 
"Fancy seeing you here, my dear! How are you?" He asks as his eyes trace you slowly from head to toe and back again, the grin on his face not slipping once. 
"Oh, I’m fine, and I am so glad I ran into you." 
"Most people are," Jake says, winking at you. You are nearly distracted by his handsome face and flirty tone. He looks like he has put on even more muscle since you saw him last. The green button-down he is wearing appears close to bursting at the seams with how it clings to him. "So, what have you been up to these days?" 
"Are you still single?" You blurt quickly, ignoring his question, not wanting to lose your steam. 
"Yes, Ma'am. Last I checked. Why?" 
"Perfect, can you do me a huge favor?" You ask. 
"I'm always happy to help out a friend," Jake says, sounding increasingly suspicious. The smile hasn't dropped from his face, but his eyes have narrowed slightly, examining you. 
Quickly standing on your tip toes, you loop an arm around Jake's neck, appreciating that he is sitting on a stool, helping level your height difference. Wasting no time, you pull him down to meet you in a quick kiss. Once his lips brush yours, you let go of him, stepping back, not even taking a moment to savor the feeling or enjoy having Jake this close. 
With your mission accomplished, you have every intention of making a hasty retreat back to your friends and hoping that you will be able to forget this. You are going to erase knowing you've kissed Jake Seresin from your brain, and then the next time you see him, you're going to pretend this fiasco never happened. It feels like the best and only course of action for you to take. 
However, you don't even get to make a full step away from Jake before large hands and thick arms circle around your waist, pulling you back towards him. He tugs until you are standing between his spread thighs, his hands maintaining their position on your waist. 
"Woah now, where do you think you're going?" He asks, eyes darting around your face, studying you closely. 
Embarrassment at having to explain your actions rushes through you, turning your stomach and overriding or maybe enhancing the butterflies there. You glance away from Jake towards your friends and see them watching with rapt attention. Then his thumb moves in a slow soothing circle, drawing you back towards him. 
"I'm sorry! My friends dared me to kiss someone at the bar, and when I saw you, well, I knew it wasn't a lost cause because you're not a complete stranger." 
You refuse to believe that the frown that flashes on Jake's face is one of disappointment. However, it's hard to ignore when his eyebrows are scrunched together, and his hands are so warm you feel it bleeding through your clothing. 
"You could at least buy someone a drink before stealing a kiss, you know. That's just some common decency." 
"I'm so sorry, Jake," you apologize again. "Let me buy you a beer for your troubles." 
"Naw, you don't got to." 
"Well, now I have to because you made me feel bad," you say, waving your arm to try and flag down a bartender. 
"I didn't take you for one to just kiss someone on a dare," he says conversationally. You try not to wriggle uncomfortably in his hold, but without even trying, he seems to have pulled you even closer. 
"I normally wouldn't be," you agree. "But the girl who I highly suspect of cheating with my ex while we were still together is here. I'm sure she thinks she's better than me and that I'm a boring prude."
"She clearly has never been around when you drink tequila," Jake laughs. You can't believe he would still remember the camping trip from years ago, where you were drinking tequila. Definitely notable because it was probably the last time you had dared have any of the liquor. 
"Can you please forget about that? And tonight, too?" You request. Jake pretends to think it over, humming lightly before shaking his head. 
"Sorry, no can do. It's already burned into my eidetic memory." You huff at his response, avoiding eye contact with him to try and catch sight of the bartender again. "You know, if you just asked me first, I would have given you the friends and family discount." 
"And what is that?" 
"Pretty similar to buy one get one free," he says, his voice dropping a little lower. Your mouth falls open in surprise, but you can't find any words. "Could have given you more than a quick peck, something that would really wow your friends." 
Trying very hard not to imagine what kind of kiss Jake would consider wowing, you decide to deflect. Jokingly saying, "Didn't think you were from one of those kinda southern states. Do you make a habit of kissing family members?" 
Jake throws his head back and laughs full-bellied at you. "The friends and family of my friends discount then," he amends. 
"I already hate being in this situation. I don't want more of a pity handout than I've already taken."
"Darlin," he sighs, shaking his head at you. "I would have even given you the Hangman special. Which is a deal, bargain, and steal. Comes with a kiss that's guaranteed to impress friends, people who cheated with your atrocious ex, everyone in this bar, and has even been known to, on occasion, inspire a standing ovation." 
"Ha.Ha. You're so funny," you say dryly, rolling your eyes. 
"I am, thank you for noticing," Jake says. "However, I think you deserve that kind of kiss to prove a point to your friends over there." 
"They didn't even think I would be able to make it over here to talk to you." You admit to him, glancing over at your friends again, a little displeased that they are still obviously observing your interaction.
"That them over there?" He asks, following the direction you're looking. You hum in acknowledgment. "Which one's the cheater?" He breathes, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, sending a shudder down your spine. 
You describe Tassie a bit to him, finding yourself shifting closer into his embrace, enjoying how he is somehow able to help most of the chaotic bar disappear from your senses. It's hard to think about the noise or the increasing number of people starting to press in when Jake's touching you. When he picks out who she is, Jake grunts a little. He lowers his face and nearly kisses your neck over the pulse point. His hot breath tickles the spot, causing shivers again as he declares, "I don't see the appeal." 
"Wish my ex felt that way," you sigh. 
"Fuck him," Jake says with conviction. Drawing a bit back from you to make eye contact again. His green eyes are clear, and in the dimmed mood light around you, they seem to shine even brighter than usual. 
"You sure you don't mind me having kissed you to prove a point?" 
"My dear," he laughs like you told him a funny joke. "I can't imagine a situation where I would mind you kissing me. Let alone one where I get to help you out." 
Sliding your hand up his chest to casually rest on his shoulder, you wonder, "Is the Hangman Special still available?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Guaranteed to be wowing?" You check. 
"Got a warranty for you and everything," Jake says lowly. 
Your hand curls around Jake's neck again, and you attempt to tug him closer to you. He doesn't even budge, though. One of his hands slowly traces up your side from your waist until he is cupping your cheek. Then Jake leans close, his breath ghosting over your lips, where he lingers for a moment. Your eyes flutter closed, and as soon as they do, his lips press to yours. This time, it's not a quick peck. 
He is slow and deliberate in how he kisses you. Tilting his head to the side to get a slightly better angle, Jake uses his hand on your face to urge your lips to align better with his. Pliable to his touch, you open your mouth to him, seeking even more, and rewarded when Jake's tongue brushes against your own. You never doubted that Jake would be a good kisser, but knowing firsthand is something you know you won't be able to erase from your memory. When the kiss starts to border on indecent, he pulls away. 
You linger in the moment, keeping your eyes closed until your heart doesn't feel like it's going to burst from your chest. While you are in that limbo spot, his thumb slowly strokes your cheekbone. Sea glass green is the first thing you see when opening them again, Jake not making any effort to veil how he is admiring you. His lips are slightly pinker now than they just were, and you can't help but imagine how pink and swollen they would get if you had the opportunity to get this man alone on a couch. 
Just as you consider requesting that he kiss you again, just to really really solidify how good you are to your friends, because obviously, three kisses are much better than the one they dared you to get, you are suddenly bumped from behind. The motion roughly shoves you against Jake's solid chest. Both his hands automatically return to your waist, tightening as he steadies you there. Glaring over your shoulder at whoever bumped you, he asks, "Are you okay?" 
"Yeah, I'm okay," you breathe. Being this close to him, the woodsy scent of his cologne tickles your nose. And you suddenly wonder why exactly he is in this upscale cocktail bar dressed so nicely. 
"I'm glad you decided to kiss me and not any of these other assholes," he mutters darkly, still glaring over your shoulder. 
"Well, it wasn't really a choice." You reveal, which has his eyes snapping back to you in an instant and a frown pulling at his lips. One of his thumbs that's resumed making circles on your waist stops, and the other falls off your waist entirely now. He doesn't move otherwise, but his presence feels less consuming. Tersely, he responds, "I see." 
"I may have skewed the odds. Told my friends to pick the hottest man they could find. What would you know? They picked you." You explain quickly.
"That's some good luck on your part." 
"It wasn't luck, not really."
"How do you mean?" He wonders. 
"I knew they would pick you." 
"What made you so confident?"
"Because, Jake, you are, hands down, the most attractive person here," you reveal to him shyly. Your fingers curling into his silky shirt, where they have found themselves on his chest after being pushed. 
"See now, I don't think that's true," he says, his eyebrows pulling together. The frown is gone though, the edges of his lips quirking up again. 
"Oh please, Jake. Do not pretend you don't know how handsome you are."
"I'm aware. However, that doesn't change the fact that you're the most attractive person in this bar tonight." 
"You're a flirt," you accuse him. 
"I am," he agrees with no argument. "But that don't make me dishonest or mean I'm not genuine. I haven't been flirting with you just for the sake of it." 
Warmth blooms in your center at his words, and you nearly forget all about trying to escape away from him. Right now, you just want to get closer, as close as he will let you. However, you are pulled out of the fantasy when you look away from Jake's intense gaze to see your friends and how most of the table seems shocked and scandalized. Wryly, you notice Cece giving you two thumbs up. It's like you could almost forget that this was just him being flirty and imagine he was kissing you for more than just helping prove a point. "Well, I appreciate your help with the Hangman Special. I know they will all be impressed and jealous when I head back over there." 
"Now, wait a moment. You can't just sneak away. The Hangman Special not only comes with mind-blowing kisses but also a free night out, all expenses paid, and dinner at any restaurant you choose. "
"You just give that away to any random person who asks?"
"No, only the pretty ones I've had my eye on for a long while," Jake says, his eyes intense, the hand still on your waist flexing tighter for a moment.
"You have?" You ask, completely surprised. 
"Yes, Ma'am," he replies with no hesitation. Before you can respond, the bartender finally makes his way over to you two, asking for your order. Jake instantly defers to you before ordering, asking, "What do you want, my dear?" 
"I thought I already told you I'm taking one of the Hangman specials." You say, after taking a moment to think it over. The grin that lights up Jake's face is sunny and bright, and if you weren't being supported by his strong body, you would have probably fallen over swooning. 
Turning back to the bartender, Jake requests two bottles of water and both of your tabs. As you peek over his shoulder while he signs, you see the bill consists of just one beer, the water, and the two drinks you've had tonight. 
"So you want the full experience?" He asks you when you've taken a sip of water, and he has downed half of his in the same time. 
"From what I know about you, Jake, I don't think you're someone who does things by halves," you answer, fiddling with one of the buttons on his silky green shirt. Then you are pushing a bit on his chest, trying to step away. When you do, Jake's hands find themselves on your hips again pulling you closer to him. 
"Where you going?" He pouts. 
"I just need to grab my purse." 
"Whatcha you need your purse for, sweetheart? Don't you know I ain't going to let you pay for nothing?" Jake drawls. 
"I'm sure you want that to come off gentlemanly, but you're close to flirting with misogynistic." You say, playfully poking a finger into his chest.
"No." Grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips, Jake brushes a kiss on your pulse point, saying, "I know exactly who I'm flirting with, and that is you, my dear." 
The laugh you let out is slightly involuntary, but it makes Jake look like he won a prize, so you can't be too displeased, especially not when he has resumed drawing circles on your skin, and it feels like some sort of hypnosis you never want to end. "I'll be right back, and you can keep flirting with me for as long as you like." 
"That a promise?" Jake asks.
"Sure thing," you agree, but Jake still hasn't let go of you. 
"Do you want some company?" 
"You don't have to." 
"Little worried you're going to try and sneak away," he admits. 
"But Jake, I am sneaking away," you say in a fake whisper as if sharing a secret. "Sneaking away with you from my friends and this bar." It makes him smile again, just like you were hoping it would. "Just wait here for me. Okay?"
"Okay," he reluctantly agrees. Despite agreeing, the hold he has on your hand actually slightly tightens. "One more kiss?"
"I'm starting to get the feeling that you're always going to want one more kiss."
"You already know me so well," Jake grins. You press your lips against his again in a quick kiss, careful not to get caught up in it, before slipping out of his grasp. When free, you practically skip away from Jake to grab your things. 
Arriving back to your friends, you're greeted with loud whooping and even some clapping thrown in. Cece is practically giggling as she says, "I really didn't think you had that in you." 
"What were you talking about for so long?" Another one of the group asks.
"Was that kiss as hot as he is?" Someone else wonders, and then questions are coming from every direction before you can answer any of them. 
"It was great, he's great." You manage to get in. When they start to flood you with even more questions, you cut them off. "I would love to talk all about it, but I'm sorry y'all, I'm actually just over here to grab my purse." 
"There is no way you are leaving with that guy," Tassie says incredulously. 
Irritation and anger flares up in you as you turn to glare at her. "Really, there's no way? And why would that be Tassie?" 
"Come on," she says, clearly surprised that you've decided to call her out. "You're just not the kind of person to go home with someone from the bar, and he doesn't really seem like your type." 
"I don't know how tall, handsome, funny, and phenomenal kisser could not be someone's type," You say harshly, snatching your purse and jacket from where you had been sitting. 
"I'm just trying to look out for you," she responds sharply. 
"I don't think that's true," you snap back. 
"Hey now, why don't we all chill out," your friend Marv cuts in placatingly. 
"Sorry to interrupt," a familiar southern drawl says from behind as a warm arm wraps around your shoulder. You nearly sag into Jake. The urge to explode on your friends, more specifically Tassie, instantly absorbed by his presence. "But I was promised I could take this one out on a date tonight." 
"We can't let our friend just leave with a stranger," Cece says, and you turn to narrow your eyes at her, frowning that she is butting in when she is the one who set all this into motion in the first place. 
"While I respect that, I don't think you get to make that decision," Jake says lightly and a lot nicer than you would have in that moment. 
"You could be a crazy serial killer or something," Tassie says. 
"While I am a killer, that's normally just how people describe me in bed," he answers in a flirty, exaggerated way. That has you nearly coughing, you suck in air so hard. He gently pats your back and continues on. "If you're really worried though, you can look me up on Instagram. That's at LT.H_ANGM_N. I hope y'all have a good night. I know we will be," Jake punctuates the sentence with a kiss to the side of your head. 
Stuck between laughing and balking you glance around at everyone’s surprised faces at Jake’s boldness. You know exactly what Jake's last Instagram post was, having spent several minutes the other day debating whether you should like the shirtless picture of him on the beach. 
"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Jake asks you, practically muttering the words in your ear. All he needs is your nod before he confidently starts to turn you and lead you out the door. You manage to throw your friends a small wave goodbye, but it only takes a few steps for them to be out of your mind. 
"Did you drive?" Jake asks you as the fresh evening air rushes over you both. 
"No.��� And you’re glad you didn’t when it means Hangman will be driving you home.  
"Good," he grins, "do you mind me driving?" 
"I don't," you answer easily, completely content to follow Jake to wherever he is going to lead you. 
He stops in front of a Jeep Gladiator, and you aren't overly surprised by his taste in vehicles. He goes to open the passenger side door for you, but you don't immediately take his offered hand to get inside. Instead, you tug it as you lean against the side of the truck. Jake follows the motion easily, not hesitating to bend down and mold his lips to yours. 
Jake looms over you, one of his hands balancing his weight against the side of the truck just over your head. The other on your side pulling you a bit closer to him. Looping your arm around his neck for some leverage, you let Jake take over your senses. The softness of his tongue paired with how he nibbles at your lower lip pulls a little whine from you.
When you have to pull away for a ragged breath, Jake groans low in his throat as you press teasing kisses down the column of his neck to the V of skin his shirt shows off. The hand on your waist slides up to cup your cheek and pulls you back to his lips. Kissing Jake is easy, he doesn't leave enough room for you to question if he's enjoying it. Nor do you have the capacity to overthink it as Jake's lips move surely and confidently with your own. All there is is him, his warm strong body, soft lips, and the calluses of his fingers. 
Leaning backward, you pull Jake with you wanting to have him pressed flush because even though you're tasting him, caged in, surrounded by him it still isn't close enough. However, the motion presses one of the Jeep’s jutting door hinges sharply into your back. You can't help but gasp a small "ow" as you try to shift. Concern creases Jake's features, and he pulls you away from his truck into his chest, glowering at the vehicle as if it had somehow betrayed him. 
"You okay, darlin?" He asks, his hands tracing down your back checking for injury. You lean more into his chest even though you don't really need the support, it's just nice to be in his arms. 
"I'm fine," you reassure him. 
"Let's get you out of harms way." He says pulling open the passenger side door. As you start to heave yourself into the tall truck Jake is practically picking you up and easily setting you in the seat. You blink at him in surprise at his show of strength. He remains there, standing in the open door, leaning closer and placing his hand just above your knee, his thumb drawing circles there. Then he asks, "So, where would you like to grab some dinner, my dear?" 
"I've heard of this really great restaurant I've been dying to go to."
"Yeah? Let's make it happen then." 
"Mhmm," you hum in confirmation. "It's called Hangman's House." 
Jake's thumb immediately stops moving and the smile on his face seems to shift. The genuine glint there slipping away, to something hard for you to really identify, practiced or guarded. Whatever the change was you don't find yourself liking it and immediately wonder where you misstepped. 
"So, Hangman's House, that's a pretty exclusive place. They don't usually do unplanned reservations," Jake says after what's nearly an awkward silence. 
"That's too bad. I heard that they have great service." You say a little dejected but glad he told you no in a casual manner that you can play off. 
"You're in luck though, my dear, because I know the owner. I think he would be willing to make an exception for us sometime, but they are better known for their breakfast menu." Jake responds upbeat again. 
"I like breakfast." You mutter in what you think is a flirty way. However, it's obvious that you've missed the mark when Jake's hand drops off your leg completely now. 
"Listen, if this is just a one-night thing, just some making out and fun stuff, where you are going to leave in the morning and pretend it never happened next time we see each other," he says seriously. Pausing, he runs a hand through his hair taking a measured breath, and you watch as the muscle in his jaw flexes. "That's fine, but I need to know it now." 
As you study his face intently it occurs to you that maybe even men like Jake Seresin have insecurities. Maybe he was used to interacting with people where more often than not they only saw him as a handsome face with a nice body. People who were ready to leave the next morning. The realization that a one night stand isn’t the series of events he is interested in with regards to you twists a pit of uncertainty in your stomach. You feel a little uneasy not sure exactly where you stand or what he wants with you. 
Reaching to catch Jake's lost hand and tangling your fingers, you start playing with the big class ring he is wearing. He allows the movement and relaxes his hand further, giving you additional leeway. The distraction of Jake's fingers gives you the courage to say, "I guess maybe I misunderstood that this was going to just be a nice fun night with you. Is that not what you were looking for?" 
"I do want that," Jake says adamantly. " However, I don't just want that." 
"What do you mean?" 
"I want to bring you flowers, dance with you, write you love letters. I want to explore every inch of your body and heart until I know what makes you tick. I want you to forget that any other man besides me even exists." Jake presses himself close to you again, and he turns his hand to thread your fingers tightly together. "Now I'm good, and I mean really good my dear, but those aren't goals I can make happen in one evening. So I want to start with tonight, taking you out and giving you a good time. And then I want to do the same thing tomorrow or whenever you have free time. I want to do that for as long as you will let me." 
"Oh wow," you breathe, taken aback by his declaration. "That's kind of a lot." 
"I know, but I don't want my intentions to be unclear. I wasn't lying when I said I've had my eye on you for a while. I'm happy to go at whatever pace you need; I'll do whatever you want. However, if this was all just getting back at your ex and proving a point. If you can't see yourself wanting anything more with me past tonight again, I need to know." Now, Jake takes his turn playing with your fingers as he breaks eye contact to stare at where you're intertwined. "I'll happily let you break my heart, but I don't want to be blindsided by it. 
Surging forward, you pull Jake in to kiss you again. It's an awkward angle, and the way the truck makes you taller than him feels odd. However, none of that matters when his lips are so pliable against yours. 
"I don't want to break your heart," you tell him between kisses. "I want to go on dates with you, and I want to go home with you. I want to go to bed with you and do it more than once if we find out we are compatible." 
"Are you doubting our compatibility?" Jake asks, raising an eyebrow. 
"Not really, but you know it's better to make sure with these things. Have to double check, I think." 
"That makes sense," he concedes. 
"Now let's get some food so you can take me home and then to bed. Show me these killer skills you mentioned earlier." 
"We can do a lot tonight, but we can't sleep together," Jake says mournfully.
"Why not?" You ask confused. 
"Everyone knows you don't sleep together until the third date," Jake drawls.
"That's a cliche. Plus, why does it really matter?" 
"Because I've been dreaming about forever with you, and when you want forever with someone, you don't want to skip any steps." Jake answers, dead serious and earnestly. It makes you wish you weren't in such an awkward position in the truck. If you were still outside pressed against it, or in the bar even, it would be so much easier to show him the appreciation and affection burning inside. 
"We've got to be somewhere near the third date by now. We have tonight and that camping trip we went on. Oh, and that one time that everyone went bowling. Plus, there was that bonfire a few months ago!" You say, trying to think of occasions you and Jake had spent a good amount of time together. While considering it, you also realize he has nearly always gravitated to your side during group interactions, and going off tonight, that clearly wasn't as coincidental as you had previously thought. 
"You deserve real dates," Jake responds with conviction, and the look in his eye really isn't something you can or even want to argue with. There isn't anything wrong with someone wanting to act like a gentleman with you; it's actually flattering, especially when it's clear Jake isn't going to play any guessing games with you concerning his feelings. 
"Well, then we are wasting time when we could be on our first date," you say, pressing another peck to his lips and lightly pushing him away from you. 
"One last kiss," Jake whispers as he lurches close again for another peck. Then, he gently closes your door and jogs over to the driver's seat, asking where you want to get a bite to eat. 
The two of you end up at a fancy Italian restaurant where you share an appetizer, bottle of wine, and dessert. During dessert, Jake insists you pose for a picture. Despite your initial resistance, he convinces you, and then, nearly as soon as he takes it, your phone lights up with a notification telling you that you’ve tagged you in his story. He tells you before you even ask that he hopes your friends looked him up on Instagram but requests that you repost it on your own just in case they didn't. He claimed it's so they know he's not kidnapped you, but you suspect that it's more likely he wants to prove a point. And it's something you don't mind one bit, especially when he easily lets you post a picture of him on your own story. 
After the restaurant, Jake drives you both out of town a bit to where the sky is much clearer and the stars are visible. The evening isn't warm enough to cuddle in the truck bed like he wanted, so instead, you end up in the backseat with the moon roof completely rolled back. You manage to pretend to be looking at the stars for about three whole minutes before crawlingl into Jake's lap to kiss him. 
Before the making out can get too heated, Jake grips your chin, urging your face upwards to look through the moonroof. Gruffly, he mutters into your ear, telling you to behave. Words that only make you squirm in your newfound place sitting on his lap. He lets you stay there, though, his hands steady on your hips, and his lips leisurely brushing yours or your neck whenever inspiration strikes. 
"What were you doing out tonight looking so nice?" You wonder absentmindedly, unbuttoning the top button of Jake's shirt. It's not with an ulterior motive. Really, it's because Jake's shirt is so soft, and the top of it is hiding his dog tags from you, which you have suddenly decided is unacceptable. The new skin exposed to you is just an added benefit. 
"Ah, nothing to worry about darlin'." 
"Common, you can tell me," you say, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. 
"You know, whinnies?" 
It takes you a moment to place the restaurant and remember that it's across the street from the bar where you met up with your friends. "The wine bar?" 
"Yeah," Jake confirms. "Well, I was on a date there." 
"Oh." When Jake doesn't say anything, you decide you have to push the conversation forward. "So, what happened to your date? Were they not nice?"
"No, she was real sweet," Jake says, and you feel your stomach drop as if you aren't in the back of his truck and sitting in his lap right now.
"So why did you end up at Gem's?" 
"I was checking Instagram before she got there, and I saw you post that you were at Gems, right across the street. And no matter how nice she was, I knew it wasn't fair that I was thinking of a different person the whole time. So, we didn't even make it through appetizers before I had to be honest with her about that, and then I swung by Gems, hoping I would bump into you." 
"You were at the bar just to see me?"
"Sure was. So imagine my surprise when you found and approached me first."
"How would it have gone if you had approached me first?" You wonder. 
"For one, I would have offered to buy you a drink before stealing a kiss," Jake says teasingly. 
"You're not going to let that go, are you?" 
"Probably not for a while," he tells you. You groan and hide your face in his neck as if that will save you from some of the embarrassment. Feeling his chuckles in his throat and rumble in his chest is soothing, and you pepper more kisses to his neck and collarbone as if you were tracing the sound.
"You wouldn't have left without a kiss, though?" 
"I wouldn't have left without seeing you, and I would have done everything to try and convince you to give me one," Jake promises. 
"How would you have kissed me for the first time?" 
"Are you asking for another demonstration?" he wonders. As soon as you nod in affirmation, he pulls you close, repositioning you on his lap so you're straddling him. The darkness of the truck makes it so you can't quite see how green his eyes are, despite that they are still somehow bright.  He holds eye contact with you for a long moment. His hand cups your cheek, and like earlier in the night, he pauses, not closing the gap, observing you close. When you try to lean forward and seal your lips, he backs his head away. Then he chastises you while wearing a smirk, "I'm goin' to kiss you, baby. Now, let me do it how I want." 
Anticipation tingles in you as Jake leans close; however, at the last minute, he swerves, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then the other cheek, your forehead, and your nose. Finally, his lips meet yours firmly. Closing your eyes, you sigh into the kiss. The feeling of being intimately connected to Jake again is nearly the same as relief. When your mouth opens, Jake licks into you, searching out your tongue with his own. 
There no longer seems to be any will in Jake to tamper down the heat of your kissing. He allows you each time you push the envelope of the moment being just the soft sweet first date kissing he initially claimed to want. As he sucks on the sweet spot, her discovers on your neck, the way you grind downwards is involuntary and completely by accident. A low moan comes from Jake, and you like the way it sounds. So, the next time you grind down on him, it's completely intentional. 
The dark slacks he is wearing don't do much to conceal his hardened length. After a few more rolls of your hips, Jake's hands tightly grip your waist helping you grind against him. He urges you into a rhythm that has whimpers, moans, and gasps passing from both your mouths between hot kisses. As you try to speed up, frantic lust beating so loud you can hear it in your ear, he doesn't let you. Though you are on top of him, there is no doubt that Jake is in complete control. 
Just from this night, it's not difficult to imagine how he will be in the bedroom. Strong,  consuming, and in control. You can picture how he will confidently lead you exactly where you want to go, and you will get there because just a back of the car's make-out shouldn’t cause someone to be as turned on as you are right now. You unbutton his shirt and let your hands roam over his chest. Dragging your nails along his abs causes a full body shudder and Jake to grip your ass so hard you think you might bruise. It doesn't bother you, though, because how can anything that gets you closer to his cock be a bad thing? 
“Jake,” you say in a sudden moment of clarity. He hums his acknowledgment but keeps kissing at your neck and squeezing at your ass. A particularly hard thrust upwards from him nearly has your brain going fuzzy as you desperately try to hold yourself together.  “Jake,” you repeat more forcefully, “we need to stop.” 
“What’s wrong?” He asks concerned, detaching his lips from your skin and losing his hold so he is barely touching you. 
“If we keep at this I'm going to beg you to fuck me right here right now,” you answer. He makes a strangled groan. With his swollen lips, lust filled eyes, and hard dick you're sure he wouldn't actually mind. “Which would be amazing but you told me about a three date rule and I agreed.” 
“I did say three dates,” he responds and looks like he hates himself for it. 
“But if it doesn't actually matter I would like to suck your cock at least once before we fuck.” You boldly tell him, twisting his dog tags in your fingers pulling them taut against Jake’s neck until the release beads give away. The chain falls into your grasp, and you use the warm metal to distract yourself. 
“Fuck me,” he breathes throwing an arm over his eyes and leaning back. “You're perfect, you know that?” 
“I'm not.” 
“You are. So perfect, so hot.” He kisses you like he's about to ignore what you just said. Hot and a little sloppy with tongue and a bit at your lower lip. When he pulls away he rests his forehead against yours saying, “We are going to stop now  because I don't want there to ever be a doubt in your mind that I'll keep the promises I make to you.”
Your stomach flips with affection, and you sag, leaning heavily into Jake, just hugging him tightly, waiting for the lust that's sparked to cool. The two of you even manage to get some actual stargazing in where hands roam but in more so in an exploratory way than sexual. 
Holding hands driving back into the city you can’t stop staring at Jake’s profile, or admiring his fingers or tracing the veins of his forearms. You are focusing on trying to convince yourself that this isn’t a dream, you're definitely going to wake up with hickies in the morning, and another date with Jake Seresin scheduled tomorrow. It’s something that if you had been told at the start of your evening, you would have laughed at the absurdity of the idea. 
"I know it's really soon, but do you think that if you asked me again in a few weeks if I'm still single, we'll be able to change my answer?" Jake asks you after a bit breaking the comfortable silence you two had been in. 
"I think that's possible. What do you think about that?" You wonder. 
"I would change my answer tonight if you wanted me to."
"Jake..."
"Listen, I really like you, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. So as soon as you give me the okay, I will bring you flowers with a promise ring and ask if you want to go steady with me." Jake's thumb rubs along your pulse affectionately, "I'll change my Facebook relationship status. I'll get a nice little charm with your name on it for my dog tags. I'll take you to meet my friends and brag about how amazing you are." Jake leans over at a red light to press a soft kiss to your lips. "The whole shebang." 
"That sounds nice. Does that deal have a special name, too?" 
"Yeah, we can call it the Jake special. It is a whole package, long-term, all-inclusive deal." 
"Extended warranty?" You check jokingly.
"It actually has a no-return, no-refund policy," Jake answers.
"That's a pretty big commitment," you whisper back, even though the idea of keeping Jake all to yourself sounds nothing but appealing. 
"It's not something that expires. So how about tonight, we just worry about getting you home where you're going to let me walk you to your front door and give you a kiss goodnight."
"Just one kiss?" You ask in a pretend pout. 
"Let's shoot for two, but don't be surprised if it's three, maybe even four." 
"I want five," you declare stubbornly.
"Then I'll give you six," he easily offers. 
You try to hide your smile but don't quite manage it. It's a permanent fixture the whole drive home and during all seven of the goodnight kisses you get. They aren't the best kisses in the world because Jake is smiling through them, too. It's okay, though, because you both know there's going to be more in the future, a lot more. 
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bambiesfics · 5 months
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⊹ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭 ⊹
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warning: water-sports, extreme overstimulation, graphic depictions of lesbian smut, r!receiving finger bang, sarcastic Ellie, fluff + loving at the end.
vague description: reader has a full bladder and is trapped in Ellie William’s hatchback.
author’s note: re-upload of my fic from last blog, also don’t read this in public. It gets intense.
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“Pinup paradise diner…home to… ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake Jars?’”
You read, with your face nosed deep into the crease of the monotoned map. You deflated back into your seat, irritated at the amount of eye-strain required to make out such small font. And let the roadmap blanket the top of your thighs.
“Is that where we’re going next?”
Ellie's eyes were intently focused on the red Honda Civic in front of her, the one she’d almost rolled her windows down to spit at, less than a minute ago. Her stacked bracelets clinked as she cracked the knuckles of each one of her boney fingers.
“Is that what it says on the map?”
You flipped back to the legend, squinting at the list of diners, drive-ins, and street trucks. The corner of her plump smile quirked, hearing you mutter,
“Jesus, how do you read this thing?”
Your squint jumped between Ellie and the page, “uhhhh…yes?—yes!”
“Then that’s where we’re going next.” She crudely cracked her pinky last. The last finger with chips of black nail polish speckled on it and a snug silver braided ring that hugged it. She settled into her seat, merging onto the left lane.
“Pinup Paradise? Really? Seems like an odd choice for a drink after going to Whopping Wrap.”
You flipped the map neatly back onto your lap as your girlfriend flicked the blinker up.
“Milkshakes after chicken wraps Ellie? Really?”
“Hey—Tommy said they have the best milkshakes this side of the state. That type of man, the fucking lumberjack he is, does not fuck around when it comes to satiating that gnarly sweet tooth.”
She muttered “He probably has cavities bigger and darker than the cracks in the Grand Canyon.”
And your tiny giggle teased a smile out of Ellie, as she half-heartedly blocked the swats you struck at her with the rolled up map.
Your girlfriend got such a fucked up kick out of busting Tommy’s balls, and he knew it too.
She flicked the signal light up higher once more and cruised right into the strip mall lane that led the car through to the drive-thru, the diner growing closer each second.
In a smooth slow crawl you and your girlfriend rolled towards ‘Pinup Paradise Diner.’
A canary yellow, vintage diner, littered with paintings of 50’s pinup models that decorated all of the glass windows.
A drive-thru swinging sign read ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake!’ above the order window.
You were incredibly humored, noting all the double entendres and puns that weaved through the slogans graffitied across the menu board and windows.
A young crew member poked her head out of the order window, smiling tightly before asking for both of your orders. She watched on while Ellie fished for her peeling leather wallet in the back pocket, and poked her head out of the side of the hatchback window.
“Hey, can I grab a blueberry crust milkshake? And she’ll have….” Ellie trailed off, shooting you back a look with her eyebrow raised.
“…What’ll you have?”
“I’ll have a vanilla bean milkshake please. Also could I get a bottled water, if you have that?”
“Okay, so right now we only have the 1 liter sized bottled water.. would that be alright?”
“Ah, I’m sure that’s no problem, I’ll take it. Thank youuu.” you sang, and the girl mirrored your gentle smiled. You settled back into your seat and she closed the window.
“Why’d you get water?”
Ellie observed, hastily touching up her upper and bottom lashes with mascara, in the dash mirror, before she had to put her foot on the gas.
Vain. You teased in your head.
….But so pretty.
The mascara made her already long lashes, even longer. Her dark brown eyeliner was smudged, yet the grittiness was still so attractive on her. “You should wear brown eyeliner more Els. It really brings out the green in your eyes.”
She side-eyed you suspiciously.
“Thanks?…”
And you rolled your eyes. Your girlfriend loved to pretend she was allergic to compliments unless they were talking about her earth-shattering service top abilities.
Ellie grabbed both your milkshakes. And used her teeth to rip the paper cover off her straw while passing you your drink.
She put her foot on the gas and peeled out.
“You still didn’t answer the question.”
“What question?”
“The question of what possessed you to buy an entire liter of water?”
“Because like, you know the sweet aftertaste left in your mouth after you eat something really sweet? I don’t know, but it makes my mouth feel dry.”
“Ah.” she responded.
“…that’s actually real as fuck.”
“Right?” You settled deeper into your seat. Hugging the milkshake to your chest while you stalked a few instagram stories, relaxing into the rhythmic roll of your girlfriend's beat up hatchback.
Townhouses and parked SUV’s started running on either side of the car as Ellie drove on, deeper into suburbia. You pushed yourself up to gaze out the window.
“Where are we going?”
Ellie turned right into a smaller street.
“To find a place to park. I’m tired of driving.”
“Hmm, sorry baby” you hummed as you rubbed her thigh. Your eyes lit up. “Then can I drive your ca—”
“—no. When will you stop asking?”
“When you finally let me drive it? Let me behind the wheel please.”
She scoffed, eyeing you up and down. “So I can end up with my knees touching the back of my skull? Yeah no.”
“You’re not funny Ellie.”
“And you’re the only passenger princess I’ve seen whining to do her girlfriend's job. Be a lady, damn.”
You broke down laughing, clutching your chest while Ellie bit her lip down to put a lid on her own laughter.
You shimmied close to her, your breasts squishing her upper arm.
“Then can I have some of your blueberry shake?”
She circled the straw around your mouth and made you chase it.
“uh ah-uh-hah—Ellie.” You whined.
Ellie barked a laugh at how adorable you looked, and then slotted the straw onto your puckered mouth.
“Mmm…”
“You like?”
“Yeah it’s so yummy. I should’ve gotten that instead.”
Ellie attempted to take her milkshake back, but with some struggle as you leaned further and further into her seat, pressing your front body into her arms just to keep tasting it. You were practically finished your own drink, and were now drinking half of hers. And in that moment you recalled at all the previous times your girlfriend had gripped your ass and whispered how you were a greedy little princess in your ear. Ellie was an asshole through and through.
But she spoiled you, and she loved doing it.
You eased back, and Ellie stole her milkshake back. She circled her tongue around the tip of the straw before sucking it. Wrapping her pink lips around the sticky tip your rosy lip gloss had covered seconds prior.
You dropped your empty cup in the cup holder and went to chug most of your water. It provided an indescribable amount of relief from the saccharine blanket on your tastebuds. A cool feeling that settled in you, as Ellie pulled into a grassy park parking lot.
Willow trees lined up along the curb, their weeping pose provided shade to several lots, including the one above you.
Ellie killed off the engine. She tipped her head against the headrest in relief. She flexed her fingers, stretching out the kinks, feeling the breeze run past.
Her head lolled limply to face you. “Do I really look that good in brown eyeliner?”
“Yes you really do.”
Ellie’s cheek dimpled.
“I love when you tell me stuff like that.”
“Like what? That you look pretty?”
You murmured into her shoulder, looking up at her.
“Yeah, makes me feel…dunno, not like a greasy loser.”
“Please, as if I would ever let a greasy loser bag me.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Jesus, kill yourself.”
She maintained eye contact with you, green eyes jumping between your own. Reflecting the amber beauty of the sun in its sparkle. She gave you a soft smile, you gave Ellie one back. A truce to the constant teasing. And Ellie took it as an invitation to dip her head down, and pull your lips into a kiss. One she’d been yearning to do since she’d first reversed both of you out of your driveway.
Ellie chased the kiss into the back seat. She gripped the fat of your hips to inch you slowly off of the center console and towards the back. She followed, kicking her loose driver’s seat forward with the sole of her sneakers. The slide adjusting rail had seen better days, and had been owned by better people than the currently horny, blunt, ungraceful young lesbian who had an avid penchant for violence, that owned it that day.
Ellie teased her hand up from your hips to the base of your neck, to grab the back of your head as she worked her puffy lips against yours. She was hungry for your little mouth, and it was seen in the way her jaw flexed.
Ellie kissed you with a remarkably intense eroticism.
Her hands ran down over the fabric of your milkmaid top before ripping the holes away from the buttons to let your tits spill out right into her hands. Each nipple immediately kissed the waiting pads of her thumbs, as they moved to greedily massage the sensitive head. Grazing each of your puffy tender domes over and over. “Fuck, need to suck these heavy tits baby.”
Ellie’s lips made their way down your chest. She suckled some swollen red marks into the skin, before making her way lower. Coming eye to eye with your nipples.
“Can you please squeeze your boobies together?”
You took your palms and pushed them together. Ellie's whiny sigh sent heat pooling in your tummy. She leaned in, licking a greedy stripe across both nipples, tickling their head with the tip of her tongue, tonguing the flesh around both areolas. And suckling your nipples intermittently then popping off them. Leaving both of them so puffed out.
Your squeaks filled the expanse of her small car, and her aroused groans joined to match.
She shoved her fingers in the waistband of your tiny denim shorts and tugged at them. They budged, but barely, so you helped your girlfriend. You lifted your ass off the seat and slid your shorts and thong down your thighs, before Ellie slid them the rest of the way off your ankles and threw them in the front seat.
The soft breeze blew past your cunt. Exposing the warm skin to a cooler environment.
“S-should we be doing this in a park?” you squeeked.
Ellie kissed her answer on your lips “there’s” *smooch* “no one” *smooch* “here.” As she shoved her hand down to palm the fat of your vagina. Feeling your pussy fill up her fingers. Ellie curled a middle finger into your tight hole, it barely wanted to split apart to accommodate her finger. But she marveled at how hungrily it sucked her in. She pumped shallowly before adding in her ring finger.
Her chrome ring grazed the swelling mound inside your hole; your g-spot. And it pulled a pathetic mewl out of you. She curled her wrist up, ligament appearing. And pumped harder. Enjoying your shaking thighs in the air.
Your brain was melting into mush. And all you managed were barely coherent babbles.
“…feels ss-s'good” your eyes were rolled backwards.
“God bunny…” Ellie marveled, “your pretty pussy’s so greedy.”
Ellie’s teeth dug into her lip “How did I bag you?”
All you could muster were delirious squeak noises in response as you tugged on the base of her ponytail.
“Look-look down” Ellie’s fingers grasped your chin, pulling your eyes away from her flushed aroused face and towards your own shiny pussy. “L-look at how you’re swallowing my fingers.”
Ellie’s forehead knocked against yours.
“Hey…c-can you squeeze for me?”
You never disobeyed her instructions, not when you both were like this. Nodding limply, you clamped around Ellie’s fingers, a choked moan escaped you. And a deep, throaty groan escaped her. Feeling how tightly you suckled in her fingers, how badly you wanted her there, made a warm heat throb between Ellie’s legs and left her boxers sticking to her sloppy cunt. Ellie could almost cry that she couldn’t bully a cock inside you, just to feel that desperate clamp around her cock.
Her ring pushed into your plump inner walls over and over, and dragged a new delicious zing of pleasure through the ribbed inner walls. Puffy, swollen, and sloppy with slick.
Ellie had a newfound resistance in her thrusting, the clamping, warm grip of your puffed out walls were holding her fingers still. But she kept pumping, like a suction cup being stuck on and popped off.
You were assaulted with thrilling pleasure from your walls clamping, chasing the press of her jewelry. And from your girlfriends frenzied, desperate thrusting. Ellie was just as hazy brained as you.
It was a costly mistake. All of the fluttering was stimulating your pelvic muscles. Which stimulated the other tiny hole snuggled in your pussy. The familiar pressure of a full bladder pressed behind the teeny hole of your urethra. Your squeaks came out strained. You scooted into different positions on the seat, trying to ebb away the pressure.
The shifting positions only made it worse as your tummy squished from movement, and as Ellie pumped upwards.
She jack hammered her fingertips against the puffy roof of your warm cunt. Her feverish ministrations put so much pressure on your bladder. You choked out a breathy plea.
Your hands skated up your girlfriend's torso, past her exposed waist and pebbled nipples that strained against her t-shirt, and finally towards her square shoulders in an attempt to push her back.
She needed off.
“I gotta…uhn… I gotta.” you whimpered.
“What was that?” Ellie sighed.
“I-ah!” The thrust felt so good.
You were whiny “th-think I needa pee.”
“I’m fucking you so good it’s got you confusing cumming for peeing? Y’so adorable it’s insane.” Ellie kissed your lips, picking up her pace.
She took the hand she’d used to squeeze and pinch your tits and brought it down to press on your lower tummy, as she thrust up.
Oh.
“Nnnnhnhn no! ph-please ewwie.. can’t—hold it.” You babbled the same desperate plea incoherently, but with a mouth nearly paralyzed from the incessant abuse of your hole Ellie was doing, you were left whiny and gulping, babbling tiny sentences at a time.
Sweat pricked at your skin, an orgasm was fucked into your vagina, and a full bladder pressed at your urethra. You didn’t know what to do as the mounting climax forced against your urethra left you with a desperate need for release, in the car.
Ellie’s lips kissed your jaw, snuggling against your head.
“You wanna let it out, big girl? Make a big mess f’me. We can clean it all up later, I promise.”
“nuh—ah Ellie no no…aghh! ”
Your urethra let out a thin light spurtle. Settling into the space between you two as more slick gushed out of your hole. You sobbed through your orgasm, from the joint pleasure of climax combined with relief from pressure pressing against your urethra. Ellie kept fingering you through each tiny pump of liquid that squirted from your urethra and through each contraction of its sloppy wet vagina, as slick spilled out of you and ran past your bare ass, onto her leather seats. With each aggressive thrust of Ellie’s fingers—fuck in—pull out—came out spurt after spurt, from each hole. She slowed down once you fell back into the seat softly; boneless and glass-eyed. Like an abused rag doll.
You both caught your breaths, Ellie from the aggressive thump and heat in her pussy. And you from your ‘accident’.
Ellie watched as the looming embarrassment creeped every so slowly onto your face, as the orgasm slowly ebbed away. She placed shaky kisses on top of your head. Cupping the back of it in support.
Sure, maybe her car wasn’t the best time to explore that kink. Seeing as the bottom half of her shirt and her belt was wet.
But she wasn’t going to let her girlfriend curl in on herself in shame, just because of her body’s natural reaction. Especially one that Ellie practically fucked out of you.
If not for the small space of the car she might’ve pulled you into her lap, to kiss away the upset creases between your brows. But she could do nothing more than hover above your trembling body, and caress your squished tummy with her free hand, until the shaking eased.
She was breathless. “You did so good, baby.”
You shoved your face into the crook of Ellie’s neck. The sweet cologne on the collar of her shirt calmed you down, with its medley of gourmands, lavender and florals.
Your girlfriend had a way of grounding you. Everything about Ellie had the ability to. From her cold, icy fingers, to her soft, pine scented hair. To her woodsy cologne, always left on the collar of her shirts, ready to tranquilize your unrest.
“nuh-uh I—.”
“—So good. My good girl, doing exactly what I tell you too, c’mere.”
Ellie unplugged her fingers out from your hole and suckled the last bit of slick cream off, then swiped it on her shirt. She licked her lips. Using her now clean hand to cup the side of your jaw and draw you into a heated kiss that left both of you trembling.
You shifted positions in the seat from discomfort.
“You still need to pee s’more?”
“No.”
“Babe…”
“Maybe.”
Ellie reached over and opened your door, then hopped out from her side. Jogging over to shield your body.
You crouched in behind her, her and the car towered over you from both sides.
You pouted up at her, and she glowered down at you. Her arms crossed firmly as she looked away briefly to scan around the area. Before parking her gaze back down at you as the remaining stream from your bladder emptied itself.
“No more vanilla bean milkshakes.” you winced at the feeling of the breeze tickling your swollen labia.
“Of course. Yeah, that was the real culprit. Not the mega-giant 1 liter water bottle.”
You frowned.
Ellie’s arms dropped from their cross, and her black fingernails pinched the fat of your cheek and pulled teasingly.
She reassured you.
“Yeah sure, we’ll blame it on the vanilla bean milkshake.”
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ptergwen · 2 years
Note
starks daughter reader x peter parker, making out? like the avengers ask jarvis to show what’s happening in her room and they see what’s happening?
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ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist
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w/c: 719
warnings: 18+, explicit language, implied smut
a/n: i made one little change so it’s friday instead of jarvis but everything else is the same so i hope you don’t mind and that you enjoy! also don’t forget to join my new taglist y’all mwah
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“y/n…”
you’re kissing down peter’s neck, lips leaving goosebumps on his skin. he’s practically writhing underneath you, and you’ve hardly even done anything.
yet.
“y/n, baby.”
you grip the collar of peter’s shirt in both hands and bring your lips to the shell of his ear.
“yes, peter?”
“c’mon, we can’t. we’re… we’re gonna be late for dinner.”
“wouldn’t you rather eat me instead?”
your teeth sink into peter’s earlobe, a hand traveling down to the bottom of his shirt. peter throws his head back and closes his eyes, trying to resist you, but he can’t. you’re his weakness.
“fuck, y/n/n. don’t do this to me.”
“what, is there something else you want me to do to you?”
you start to pull peter’s shirt over his head, but he grabs both your hands in one of his.
“we’ve gotta go join the others. you know how important team dinners are to your dad.”
“and you know how much i despise them.”
“yeah, but i don’t understand why. i think they’re a sweet idea.”
“i think they suck.”
“how come?”
“steve makes the blandest food, thor has literally zero table manners, and everyone’s always asking me questions. way too many questions.”
“you mean trying to get to know you?”
“it’s the fucking worst.”
peter chuckles and pulls you in by your waist.
“you really are a stark.”
“am i? because the leader of the pack came up with this whole team dinner thing.”
“your dad just wants everyone to spend more time together.”
“well, i just wanna spend time with you.”
you peck peter’s lips. peter smiles and secures his arms around your waist.
“at least wanda’s cooking tonight. means the food will actually have some flavor.”
“yippee.”
peter lets out a breath.
“i’d be more than happy to eat you for dessert, but dinner first, okay?”
“or i could be your appetizer.”
your lips attack peter’s before he can respond. despite himself, he gives in this time, kissing back with just as much fervor.
-
“what’s taking them so long? the chicken paprikash is almost done.”
“looks delish, wanda. i’ve never had sokovian food before.”
“oh, thank you, scott. you’ll love it.”
“sure, sure. i bet i will. i just, y’know… it won’t be spicy, will it?”
sam elbows bucky’s arm.
“dude thinks paprika is spicy.”
“and i thought i was bad.”
scott frowns.
“what? it’s a spice, isn’t it?”
tony enters the dining room with a grin, rubbing his hands together.
“hey, gang. smells good in here, little red.”
“thanks, tony. i’m just about ready to serve it. we’re waiting on the kids.”
“oh? they’re still not down yet?”
“nope,” bruce sighs. “i saw them sneaking up to y/n’s room earlier,” natasha smirks. “dang, you didn’t have to rat them out,” sam remarks.
“like you wouldn’t do the same.”
“fair.”
“stop teasing, you two,” steve chastises. “no, no. this is true. i passed little stark and the spiderling on the stairs,” thor says.
tony glares at thor.
“so you all knew they were canoodling, and no one thought to tell me?”
“uh oh, drama,” scott whispers to wanda. “canoodling?” natasha snorts.
steve shoots them both looks.
“i’m sure they’re on their way down, tony.”
“yeah? let’s find out.”
tony double taps his glasses. his artificial intelligence comes to life.
“friday, show me y/n.”
“on it, boss.”
friday taps into her system that’s installed in your room and broadcasts the feed to tony’s glasses. he immediately regrets asking her to do so when he sees what you’re up to. yours and peter’s tongues are quite literally down each other’s throats, and peter is trying to take your bra off, but struggling to unhook it.
tony rips off his glasses and tosses them onto the dining room table. he shudders, shaking his head to rid his mind of the image. natasha puts on tony’s glasses to see for herself.
“yup. they’re canoodling, alright.”
“for real? this i’ve gotta see.”
“wait your turn, wilson.”
tony snatches his glasses back from natasha.
“absolutely not. no one will be taking turns watching my daughter and parker swap spit. have some class, will you?”
“yeah, have some class!” thor chimes in through a mouthful of bread wanda had put on the table.
wanda joins everyone with a serving plate of food.
“chicken paprikash, anyone?”
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tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @ellebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx
14K notes · View notes
chilichilichilipep · 5 months
Note
Carlos pining for norris! reader whenever she comes for a race to support her brother but she’s quite dense no matter how much he tries to impress her then lando catches on to his crush and helps them kinda get togetherrrr OMGG
My Favorite Work of Art – CS55
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Summary: Carlos has been pining after you since he met you, but has to take matters into his own hands to actually get you to notice
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Norris! artist! reader
Warnings: Longer than my whole schvantz, general yearning, mentions of death, dastardly language, mentions of breakups and cheating (neither committed by Carlos or Reader), maybe a little angst if you squint?, intimate questioning, so much fluff, it's me so of course it's not proofread
Team Radio: Hi lovelies. This one... this one got away from me in ways that I did not expect at ALL. If you are the original nonny and you want me to write something closer to what you submitted please tell me! I will be happy to do it! This is one that I am actually pretty proud of, so please let me know if you like it! I would be open to doing more parts as well. Thank you for taking the time to read this absurdly long team radio before reading this absurdly long fic. Love, E
Read part 2 here
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"Thank you for dinner, Y/N," Carlos smiled at you across the table.
"It's my pleasure!" You beamed back, looking between him and your brother, who sat next to you. "You boys deserve it. I'm so, so proud of you both! A Carlando one-two to end Max's reign of terror is something to celebrate."
The three of you raised your glasses and toasted to a successful Singapore Grand Prix before digging into your meals.
"So, how's business for you lately?" Carlos asked. Yes, he loved your art and even owned a few of your pieces, but really he just wanted to keep listening to you talk. You always had such interesting things to say and he hated that your voice was his favorite song.
"Oh, commissions are fine," you told him before thwacking away Lando's chopsticks with your own as he tried to steal a piece of your chicken. "But I'm having a little bit of art block personally. I want to get pack into portraiture, but I'm really tired of painting self portraits. I'm just by myself so much of the time that I don't have anyone to paint. I need to meet more people in Monaco now that I'm there full time."
"I'd sit for you sometime," Carlos offered, trying to fight the blush climbing his cheeks to the tips of his ears, "if you want."
Your eyes lit up. "Really? I'd love that! When will you be in Monaco next?"
"Um," he struggled, his heart in his throat, "I don't have any definite plans or anything."
"Why don't you come back in a few weeks when Lando comes home? You can stay with us, it'll be fun!"
Carlos' smile showed more teeth than even a dentist would ask for. He looked over to Lando, who had an odd look on his face. "Would that be okay with you, Lando?"
"Oh sure," Lando agreed, suddenly very focused on trying not to smile at his dinner. "That'll be great."
"The fuck are you making that face for?" You ask him, poking him with a chopstick.
"What?" He laughed, fighting back. "I'm not making any face, you terror!"
You rolled your eyes at your brother. Carlos could have died and gone to heaven at how cute you were when you wiggled a little in your seat. "I'm so excited," you told him. Somehow making you this happy felt better than the fact that he just won a grand prix.
--
"So when are you going to tell me that you have a crush on my sister?"
Carlos' doe eyes almost bugged straight out of his head and he froze like a deer in headlights in front of his hotel room door. Maybe if he stayed very, very still, he would become invisible to Lando, who stood behind him in the hotel hallway, arms crossed and very amused. It didn't seem to be working. Carlos cleared his throat. "Uhm, uh, what?"
"When are you going to tell me that you have a crush on my sister?" Lando repeated. He didn't seem angry, he just seemed… Carlos wasn't sure exactly what.
He laughed nervously. "Uh, okay, that's what I thought you said."
"Well?"
"I really don't know what you're talking about, Lando," Carlos lied as he opened his hotel room door and tried to close it before Lando could continue, but the brit was too quick for him, catching the door and pushing his way into the room behind his former teammate.
"I really think you do."
Carlos turned to face Lando for the first time since the uncomfortable conversation began. The younger man's eyes bore into his, waiting for an answer. Carlos realized that there was really no point in lying. "To be honest," he sighed, "I was just sort of waiting for the feelings to go away."
"You've been waiting a year for the feelings to go away?" Lando raised an eyebrow as he flopped down on Carlos' bed.
"It hasn't been a year," Carlos frowned. Lando shot him a look.
"You're kidding right?"
Carlos tried to think back to when he first realized he had feelings for you. If he was really being honest with himself, he'd had feelings for you since he first saw you. That was way more than a year ago. Try four.
It was at Silverstone in 2019. Lando's first home race in F1, and you and your family had shown up in full force to support him. Lando introduced the two of you in the Mclaren garage, and Carlos had had half a mind to scold his teammate for not telling him that his big sister was drop dead gorgeous. Your eyes, your skin, your hair, your laugh, the jokes you made, the questions you asked… everything. You were like breathing. Ever since then, whenever you would turn up in the Mclaren garage before a race, Carlos would try his best to impress you. Even after he left the team, he would always find some excuse to run into you.
Lando smirked, finding a little joy in watching Carlos panic. "That's what I thought. It's okay, Carlos, I'm not upset about it or anything."
"You're not?"
"No. You're a lot nicer than other guys she's been with. But I will be upset if you don't do anything about it."
"Why? She probably doesn't feel the same way, and I really don't want to make things awkward."
Lando leaned forward. "How do you know she doesn't feel the same way?"
"Well if you noticed, I can't have been very subtle over the last few months. She can probably tell and is just being nice."
Lando laughed, much to Carlos' chagrin. "Carlos, something you need to know about Y/N is that she's even denser than you. She's not really one for subtext. Maybe feels the same way you do about her, but you'll never know until you ask!" Carlos sat beside Lando on his bed but said nothing. He felt a little sick to his stomach. Lando nudged him with his shoulder. "Hey, I promise that if I get any indication from her that she's not into you, I'll tell you to call it off. But I really don't anticipate that happening."
Carlos smiled weakly at his former teammate. He liked when they were like this – like brothers – but of course he would never say it. "Thanks, mate," he nudged Lando back. "But don't… don't rush me, okay? I want to… just let me do it when it feels right."
"You're going to look me in the eyes and say that you telling her you 'only won tonight because you wanted to make it exciting for her' is you taking it slow?"
"Oh fuck off."
A few weeks later
Day 1
Carlos and Lando had arrived at the latter's Monaco apartment late at night and gone straight to bed. Now the morning sun beamed in through the guest room window and coaxed Carlos awake. He yawned and stretched before rolling over to check his phone. He had a text from Lando.
Playing padel with Max. Have fun ;)) lmk if you need a buffer.
Carlos rolled his eyes at the message before climbing out of bed and digging through his suitcase until he found a t-shirt. After he slipped it over his head, he padded down the hall to the kitchen to find some coffee and some food. He wondered if Lando even had a coffee maker.
Golden light poured in through the massive windows in the kitchen and living area, and the apartment smelled like you. The space was clean but not pristine, and it was definitely evident that a chaotic mind lived there and had done their best to tidy. Carlos chuckled to himself thinking about you careening around the apartment like a hurricane trying to make it presentable before he and Lando got there.
"Morning, sunshine!"
Carlos just about jumped out of his own skin at the sound of your voice behind him. He whirled around to see you, cheeks sunny, dressed in a white button-down splattered in paint that draped halfway down your bare thighs. You pranced over to him and enveloped him in a hug. "I'm so happy you're here!" You told him, "are you still good to sit for me today?"
"Oh, yeah," Carlos shrugged like it wasn't the singular reason he came. You grinned and released him from your clutches, heading over to the coffee machine on the counter. Thank God, Carlos thought. He wasn't going to be able to make it through today without caffeine.
"Coffee?" you offered, and he accepted. "I'm getting set up now," you told him as you poured. "We can start after you eat if you want? I'm sorry I didn't go shopping before you came, but there's eggs and toast that you're welcome to."
"That's totally fine. Did you eat already?" Carlos asked as he opened the fridge.
"No, I want to get prepped so we can start as soon as possible."
"Y/N, come on, you have to eat."
"Says who?" You smirked, leaning against the counter behind him.
"Says me," Carlos quipped, leaning closer to you. He was finally getting somewhere.
"Bossing me around in my own home?"
"C'mon, let me make you breakfast."
You shrugged and smiled. "Fine, if you insist." Then, much to Carlos' surprise and chagrin, you walked right back down the hall to your studio. "Call me when it's ready! Thanks Chili!" You left him completely dumbfounded in the kitchen. He was going to have to work for this one.
--
Carlos sat in the chair beside your easel in your studio as you got your things in order. He scanned the room, admiring the hanging plants and half finished paintings before noticing the queen mattress in the corner. "Do you sleep in here?"
"Oh, yeah," you hummed absentmindedly. The room you're sleeping in used to be mine, but I decided to move in here. I like to be near my work, and there's something grounding about sleeping so close to the floor."
"Wait, did I kick you out of your room?" He asked, horrified at the thought.
"No, no. I like you, Chili, but I don't like you that much," you joked, unaware that it felt like a knife iin Carlos' gut. "Do you mind if I play some music?"
"Oh, no, do whatever you need," he assured you. Soft jazz fell from the speaker near the mattress as you began to paint. He watched you intently, studying how your face contorted in focus, how your hands handled the brushes and paint like you were performing a magic spell. "Um," he started, "do you usually like silence while you paint someone? Or do you prefer conversation? Because I'm okay with either, I just… wanted to ask."
You smiled at his consideration. "You're sweet to ask. I like a little of both. I don't mind talking in the least, especially with you, but while I'm working if I talk I prefer to have more in-depth conversations. I'm not great with small talk."
As if on cue, Carlos's phone buzzed. It was a text from Lando that included a link at the bottom.
For when she's painting you. 36 questions that will make you fall in love
Carlos reluctantly clicked on the link and scrolled through the article. "In depth conversations, huh?"
"Mhm," you nodded, lips pursed as you focused.
"Okay, well," he glanced down at his phone, "if you could choose anyone in the world, who would you want as a dinner guest?"
A smile pulled at your lips. "That's a good one. Maybe the Smothers Brothers?"
Carlos laughed. "Who?"
"The Smothers Brothers. They're these two American comedians from the 60s and 70s that I really like. My dad has one of their records."
"Why do you want them to come for dinner?"
"Well, I feel like there's no way it wouldn't be a great time, you know? I would have said someone like Lenny Bruce or something, but you know… drugs. Also he's dead." Carlos laughed again. He loved your brain, and he loved how the things you said helped him get to know it. "What about you?"
"I don't know… maybe Ronaldo?"
"That's fair. Has anyone ever told you that you have the most beautiful nose?"
"What?" Carlos sputtered, taken aback both by the topic shift and the question itself.
"Your nose. It's gorgeous. You're a very compelling subject, you know," You told him nonchalantly before glancing away from your painting and at his surprised face. "I take it nobody has ever told you that."
"Charles called me a toucan the other day."
You burst out laughing. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, and just the sight of your smile brought one to his own mouth. He was completely and utterly fucked. "Oh no," you wheezed, "not a toucan! That's terrible!"
"It's okay. I told him he looked like an Afghan hound."
"Are those the ones that look like free spirited women in their fifties names Susan?"
"Yes."
"That is incredible. Well done, Chili."
Morning bled into afternoon before either of you knew it, conversation so free flowing that it felt like time itself was suspended. The only indication that any time had passed at all was when Lando knocked on the door to remind you to eat lunch. He knew that sometimes your creative flow needed to be broken for you to remember that you had basic needs. While you went to the kitchen to prepare some sandwiches and Carlos got up to stretch, Lando pulled him aside.
"How's it going?" he asked Carlos under his breath.
"Really well," Carlos confirmed.
"Anything… happen?"
"No, but I'm getting there. You still think I should go for it?"
Lando nodded as you came into the room with a plate of sandwiches and stopped in the doorway. "Why do you two look like your in cahoots about something?"
"What is cahoots?" Carlos asked, genuinely confused.
"She thinks we're conspiring to overthrow her," Lando quipped, snatching a sandwich from the plate in your hands. "Might have some guys over to play FIFA later, just FYI. Should I tell them to eat before they come?"
"No, I can cook," You shook your head and tilted the sandwich plate towards Carlos for him to take one. "We'll do a carbonara or something. As long as you're good with me sending you to the store."
"Yeah," Lando waved as he walked out of the studio into his office, "I'm gonna stream, grab me if you need me."
After you finished your lunches, you and Carlos got back to it. You made great progress on your portrait, but the best part was the conversation. It was so natural, so engaging. You talked about everything from getting nervous before making phone calls, to how you thought you might die, to what you were most grateful in your lives. Carlos was almost upset when Charles, Max, and Alex arrived to play video games because it meant you had to start cooking.
"I think we made amazing progress today," you sighed, stepping back to look at the portrait. It was nowhere near done, but was definitely starting to take shape. Carlos rubbed his neck, which was a bit sore from sitting still, and stood behind you, admiring the piece.
"It looks amazing," he praised. "Do you want help with dinner? I don't wanna brag but I make a mean carbonara."
You giggled. "Sure. Thanks for doing all this Chili."
"Anything for you." You smiled, he said it like it was a joke, but he knew that it wasn't. It really wasn't.
Day 2
After following the same morning routine as the previous day, you and Carlos headed into your studio. You fed some jazz through your speaker, lit your scented candle, and got to work again. Carlos hadn't slept particularly well the night before after overhearing what Lando and the other drivers had whispered after he went to bed.
"So has he made a move?" Charles had hissed.
"I've been assured that it's coming," Lando had told him.
"It's taken them long enough. Is Y/N still totally oblivious?" Max had asked.
"Honestly, when I told him to make a move I thought she was, but now I'm not totally sure."
Carlos was pulled from his recollections by you adjusting the angle of his face by grabbing his chin with your hands. Christ, he was fucked. "What is your most treasured memory?" Carlos asked you, selecting the question from the list that Lando had sent him.
"Um," you thought out loud before chewing on your lip and scowling at the portrait, no doubt correcting some error that only you could notice anyway. "As boring as it is, it's probably something mundane. Laughing with friends from college over cheeseburgers at 3 in the morning, dancing with Lando at that F1 gala he brought me to, something like that. I treasure the everyday. Things like flowers on the table, spontaneously dancing with someone, painting you."
Carlos' heart fluttered so strongly that he almost clutched his chest. I love being painted by you, he wanted to say, but "I… I like that," was all that came out. "I've always admired how much appreciation you have for the little things."
"The way I see it, everyone has to do something to make their life worth living. For you it might be racing. It makes you want to stay alive, it keeps you interested. Seeing the wonder in normal things and then making art out of them… that's how I communicate, you know? That's how I feel understood, how I can be sure that someone sees the world through my eyes. For me a life without beauty is just… boring. Does that make sense?"
"It does," Carlos nodded, gazing at you intently. Fuck, he thought. He was in trouble.
"What about you? What's your most treasured memory?"
He thought for a moment, trying not to get distracted by how mesmerizing your brushstrokes seemed to him. "Winning my first karting race is up there. And first F1 race too. The best parts were getting to celebrate with my dad afterwards."
"How is your dad?" You asked.
"He's good, he says hi to you and Lando."
"Hi, Mr. Sainz," you said do nobody in particular. "Okay now I have a question for you. Opposite end of the spectrum."
"Okay," he agreed, awaiting it anxiously.
"What is your worst memory?"
"When Maria died," Carlos answered immediately. It wasn't in doubt. "My mentor. It was just very sudden, nobody expected it. I mean, who has a heart attack at 33, right?"
"That's terrible," you mused. You weren't painting, just listening. "I'm so sorry, Carlos."
"It's okay. What about you?" He asked. He was ready to be done talking about it.
"Mine isn't as serious," you shrugged. "I dated a guy in college that I thought I was going to marry. Turns out he was cheating on me for three out of the four years we were together. But the shittiest part was that he made me feel like it was my fault, you know? Because there were things I wouldn't do, because I wasn't pretty enough to keep his attention. It was pretty brutal."
"That's horrible," Carlos muttered. He didn't just feel sorry for you. Hearing about someone mistreating you actually made him upset. It made him angry. "Did Lando at least beat him up?"
You chuckled softly. "He knew the guy's address. I just chose not to ask questions."
"I'll definitely have to ask him about that. And just for the record, you are pretty enough to keep anyone's attention, Y/N." You met his eyes at the sound of him saying your name. "I'm serious. Bastard must have been blind."
He thought he might have even seen a blush creep into your cheeks. "Thank you, Carlos," you responded softly. You stared at each other, drinking each other in like cold water in the desert. He couldn't help but feel like you weren't just looking at him. You were looking into him, you were staring into his heart.
"What…what um," Carlos stuttered, trying to pull himself back from the edge of loving you, "what do you think is the purest expression of love that you can receive from another person?" It wasn't his fault, it was the next question on the list. Right?
You pulled your eyes off of him and stared intently at your portrait, which stared back at you. "Silliness and dancing."
"That simple, huh?"
"Yeah. Willingness to be silly with me and willingness to slow dance with me. I don't know why that feels almost more intimate to me than sex. I mean, don't get me wrong, sex is great, but… when you're dancing, when you're holding someone and they're holding you, and there's no gratification besides closeness… yeah, that's my answer, I guess. You?"
"Sharing. Sharing food, sharing clothes, sharing experiences. Cooking together, racing each other, letting someone into your favorite activities and being welcomed into theirs."
Even with the jazz music playing in the room it felt like silence before you spoke. "That is really nice. Alright, well, I think we can be done for the night." Carlos looked down at his watch and at the darkness through the window pane. How was it already night? It felt like you'd only just started. "I think this is nearly done. I just need to do some finishing touches tomorrow when my eyes aren't so tired."
Just like the night before, Carlos rose, stretched, and moved to stand behind you and examine your work. He thought it was as beautiful as it could be, considering it was his face. "It's coming together," he grinned down at you. You looked like you were about to say something back to him when the song changed on the speaker.
"Oh, I love this song," you smiled contentedly, swaying a in place a little to the rhythm.
"What is it?"
"Again by Doris Day," you told him. With a sudden burst of bravery, Carlos stepped between you and your painting, swaying at the same pace as you, and took you in his arms to dance. Neither of you said anything, there was nothing to say, you just…danced. Carlos was a good dancer. You both gazed into each others' eyes for a moment before you slowly rested your head against his chest.
Carlos' brain was short-circuiting, his heart was going haywire, but somehow his body felt calm. You were in his arms and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. The song faded out and your swaying followed suit and then you stood there, still silent. He waited for you to look up at him, mustering up all the courage he could find to lean down and kiss you, when you said, "We should probably get some rest."
Record scratch.
Carlos let his arms fall to his sides and you did the same. "Yeah, probably," he managed, "I'll see you in the morning."
Day 3
Breakfast, jazz, candle, showtime. Your morning routine with Carlos had become dangerously domestic. It put him in danger of never being able to live without you pouring him coffee and eating the eggs he made for you, just the way you liked them. You looked at him inquisitively as he sat down in his chair for the final day of painting.
"You look tired," you told him.
"I couldn't fall asleep for a while last night," Carlos admitted. "It's okay though, I'm fine."
"If you say so," you shrugged, beginning once more to put paint to canvas.
"Hmm, okay, what to talk about today," Carlos stealthily tried to scan through the list of questions. "Okay, tell me about an embarrassing moment in your life."
"Trying to humiliate me, Sainz?"
"Always." He laughed. Never, he thought.
"Okay, one time I was sick on an overnight school trip to Rome, and I was staying in a hotel room with three other girls. I don't know what I was sick with, I've never been sick like that in my life, but I remember waking up and needing to pee, so I started walking to the bathroom and before I could get there I peed my pants. I just… there was no warning. I didn't even need to go that bad. Turns out one of the girls, who was extremely popular, was awake and saw it. Safe to say I was ostracized from her group of friends after that."
"That's horrible," Carlos couldn't help but laugh, "how old were you?"
"I was seventeen."
"Seventeen?!"
"I was sick!"
"Ay dios mio, that's so bad. Mine is not nearly as terrible as yours."
"Well, share anyway please, I don't want my pee story floating around in the air by itself."
"When I was probably fourteen I tripped and fell off of the podium at a karting race."
"That's not that bad."
"Does it help you to know that I faceplanted and broke my trophy?"
"A little, yeah."
A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you worked, filled only with the crooning of Chet Baker, the swiping of brushstrokes, and the muffled voices of Lando and his padel buddies mulling around in the kitchen after their match. But Carlos could watch you forever. His heart started to slam against his ribs so hard he thought it might actually escape.
"If you were going to die tomorrow, what's one thing you'd want to confess?" you asked him out of the blue. He stared at you for a moment. You had just given him the perfect window, but after last night, after you'd stopped him from leaning in, was it really such a good idea?
"I feel strange when you're around."
"Huh?"
"That's what I would confess," he emphasized.
"You feel strange? Do you have a fever or something?" You set down your brush to press the back of your hand to his forehead, then his cheek. He reached up and caught it, holding it to his face before looking directly and unwaveringly into your eyes.
"No, Y/N, I'm not sick. I'm just saying that... I'd confess that I feel strange when you're around. I'd confess that I feel your absence in everything I do alone, in everywhere I go without you. I'd confess that every time you come to a race I try to impress you, to get your attention. I'd confess that I've… I've liked you for a really long time, but since you started this portrait, since we've been spending these days together…" He trailed off, eyes still locked on yours. They were filled with shock and something he couldn't read. He let the pair of you sit in the gravity of what he had said.
"I'd confess…" you began, startling him a little, "… that I think I might be falling in love with you."
He didn't need to hear another word. Instead, he reached for your face and pulled you down to kiss you fiercely. It was like you were oxygen and he'd been holding his breath. You sank down to sit on his lap, raking your fingers through his hair and undoubtedly getting paint on him. You moaned quietly when he pulled away, desperate for more of him.
"Can I ask you one more question?" He breathed, and you nodded. "Did you really not know?"
"I really didn't know. I hoped, but I didn't know," you confessed to him, and he shook his head in disbelief.
"Unbelievable. I must be smoother than I thought."
"Well you are the smooth operator."
He smirked and grasped the back of your neck firmly. "Mi pequeña boba hermosa," he whispered against your lips before kissing them again, basking in the glory of finally getting to touch you.
"What are we going to tell Lando?" You mumbled, the painting beside you long forgotten.
"I have a feeling Lando already knows," Carlos told you.
"What?"
"Listen," he told you, and you did. The chatter in the kitchen had stopped, but was soon replaced with your brother's voice hissing from the other side of the door,
"Shit, they're onto us!"
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norrizzandpia · 1 month
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https://www.tumblr.com/norrizzandpia/734852138798399489/bruh-lando-is-so-the-type-of-guy-to-pass-the-salt
Omg PLS turn this into a fic 😭😭😭😭
I turned this into a small blurb bc i can see this happening for lando way too much lol
She Calls Me Daddy Too (LN4)
Summary: When Y/n and Lando are having dinner at her house with her parents, Y/n asks her father to pass the salt. Too bad she didn’t specify which one she was referring to.
Warnings: inferences of Lando’s daddy kink lol, a moment of awkward silence after lando spills the deets on their sex life
Lando had met Y/n’s parents a multitude of times before. They loved him, continuously talked about how they couldn’t wait to attend their daughter’s and his wedding one day. Anyone could see how much they adored him for their daughter, so as they talked at the dinner table one Sunday night, there was no passing silence or awkward bubble where everyone was trying to figure what to say next. The conversation always flowed.
A homemade meal made from Y/n’s mother and father made her smile as she bit into the chicken her dad had smoked for the family. Usually, he was gracious with the seasoning and spices, but, for whatever reason, this time he had lacked on the salt portion.
She frowned slightly, “Daddy, can you pass me the salt?”
The next few moments were pulled from Y/n and Lando’s worst nightmares. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Lando, too invested in the delicious food melting in his mouth to think, nod his head and begin to move his hand toward the glass container. All at once, her father moved in the same way too. Their hands knocked each other’s as they both reached the salt at the same time.
Y/n paled.
Lando, finally realizing what he had just done, started coughing on his food.
“Oh, honey,” Y/n’s mom yelped, concerned, as Lando clutched his chest, trying to control the food in his mouth.
Y/n’s father, the poor man, stilled in his seat with his fork and knife still grasped in his hands. All he could do was look helplessly between Lando and Y/n, his daughter and her boyfriend, as his brain caught up with the implications of the past actions made by Lando.
Lando flopped back down in his chair, “Um, I’m- uh, I’m so sorry.”
Y/n didn’t dare to look anyone at the table in the eye.
Her father cleared his throat and slid the salt across the table to Y/n, the scratching achingly loud in the silence, “Thank you, dad.”
He mustered a smile, “No problem, sweetie.”
Nobody said anything for the next ten minutes, everyone shoving food down their throats in an effort to make an excuse for not conversing. When her mother finally had enough of it all and started pouring everyone generous glasses of wine, the four loosened up.
And, as they all stumbled to the door, Lando and Y/n’s Uber waiting outside, her father patted Lando on the back, “Whatever happens behind closed doors, I don’t want to know about. Got it, son?”
Lando’s cheeks and ears reddened, “Yes, got it. Sorry again.”
Her mother shook her head with a drunken smile and waved her hand, “Nah, you’re okay. We were once young and in love too. It’s all we could think abo-”
Y/n squealed, “MOM!”
At that, Y/n was pulling Lando away from the godforsaken dinner and into the back of their car.
She would go on to refuse to call him daddy later that night.
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moonstruckme · 1 month
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Your work has been a great source of joy and relief to me (at last after a day of shitty circumstance i get to thrive in my free time with your witing) and i just want to thank you for that...💗💗💗
But i do also wanna request a jealous reader to james or remus, I'm genuinely curious as to how they'll handle that and what will they do to satiate reader
Thank you, sweetheart! Love you <3
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words
James looks especially sightly today, his brown skin gleaming in the sun and hair stuck slick to his forehead. He’s shirtless, which is always a treat, muscled abdomen sometimes distorted beneath the pool water and sometimes slipping above, inadvertently teasing, and his shoulders look especially strapping with Lily’s pale thighs seated atop them. 
You really like Lily. You’re quite disappointed in yourself, actually, for the hot flash of malice that goes through you when she burrows her manicured fingers in your boyfriend’s hair, laughing about losing her balance. James moves his grip from her knees up to her thighs, promising he’s got her. Something foul and warmish curdles in your gut. 
On the other side of the pool, Sirius and Remus advance like a totem pole with two wildly different faces, one menacing and the other reluctant. They’d asked if you wanted to play chicken, but getting pushed and shoved by Sirius isn’t your idea of a good time. You figured you’d be more content here, sitting on the edge of the pool with your feet kicking idly in the cool water, but now you can see how it does sort of look like a couples activity, Sirius atop Remus’ shoulders and Lily on James’. It’s no secret that James had pined after Lily for years. It was back in their school days, before you met him, but it’s been brought up a few times in a teasing way that’s made it clear to you that everyone knew how he felt about her. You wonder if Lily ever thinks about it. If she’s assured, consciously or not, that she could have him back at any time of her choosing. It’s not something you love to dwell upon. 
The pairs are fairly evenly matched. Sirius fights dirty, splashing water up at Lily and trying to unhook one of her knees from around James’ shoulder, but Remus can’t be bothered to participate and looks like he’d be just as happy to be pushed over and call it done. Lily, meanwhile, isn’t as creative a fighter and is only shoving at Sirius’ shoulders, but James provides a strong base. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of her legs, calling up encouragements and occasionally freeing a hand to pinch upwards at Sirius’ side. Sirius shrieks and swears at this, claiming that it’s against the rules. Eventually, Remus gets tired of supporting his boyfriend’s weight and feigns a fall back into the water. Sirius squawks as he goes down, and Lily and James cheer and high-five before he helps her dismount with far more grace. 
You clap and smile like a good girlfriend. James beams as he swims over to you. Sometimes looking at James’ smile at full capacity is a bit like looking at the sun, and you feel like you need some special glasses to gaze directly at it. This is one of those times. 
He takes your calf in his big hand and leans his cool cheek on your warm knee and makes you feel like the most special girl in the world, and you can’t stop thinking that Lily probably knows this exact feeling. 
You make extra sure to be nice to Lily on your way out later that evening, guilty and vexed with yourself for the way you’ve been thinking about her, and James waves a friendly goodbye to the group as you both step outside. 
Instantly, his arm is around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. James was prepared for the nighttime chill, pulling a sweatshirt out of his bag as soon as the sun set, whereas you’re in a tank top and shorts that have grown damp from your swimsuit. You lean into him gratefully. 
“Did you have a good time today?” he asks.
“Mhm.” 
“Yeah?” He tilts his head a bit, looking down at your face. “You seemed a bit off.” 
You shrug. You should’ve expected James would notice. “I guess I just wished I’d participated more.” 
He makes a contemplative humming sound. “You don’t mean that you think people didn’t want you to participate, right? They love you, angel, you know that.” 
“No, I…” You want to say I know, but you’re worried you’ll sound conceited. You never usually second-guess yourself like this around James. You sort of hate it. “I just didn’t realize that if I said no to playing chicken, Lily was going to be your partner instead.” 
He’s quiet for a second. Something in your gut twists uneasily. 
“I thought you liked Lily.” 
“I do.” 
“Are you jealous?” 
“No.” 
You answer without thinking, because whatever you might be feeling right now, you are not a jealous person. You won’t be that kind of girlfriend. The breeze picks up, and goosebumps prickle down your arms, making you shiver.
“Are you cold?” James asks. 
You know he’s going to want to give you his sweatshirt, and you really can’t be taking things from him right now. “I’m alright.” 
“You know you’ve got nothing to worry about with Lily,” he tells you, thumb brushing softly over the skin of your bare shoulder. It should be reassuring, but suddenly you’re thinking about how this same hand looked so comfortable wrapped around Lily’s thigh. You step out from under his arm, crossing your arms as casually as you can against the chill. 
“I’m not worried,” you reply. 
James looks perplexed, and also a little dubious. The thought of him not believing you, even if you are lying, fills you with a burning indignation. 
“I just don’t see why you had to be touching her so much,” you say. “You could’ve looked a bit less eager.” 
He actually laughs at that, but the look on your face stops him quickly. “Sorry, but did you really think I looked eager?” he asks, a little smile still teasing the corners of his lips like you’re a child he has to talk down from a fit. “That’s just part of the game, sweetheart.” 
The way he says it, sweetheart, suddenly feels less affectionate and more like a placation. Condescending. Heat builds behind your eyes, and you realize with horror that you feel like you might actually cry. You’ve never felt so distant from James. Not even when you’d first started dating. 
You pick up your pace, staying ahead to keep him from seeing your face. “You didn’t have to touch her legs so much,” you huff. 
“That’s just how it works!” he laughs, incredulous. 
You roll your eyes, and James lengthens his stride to catch up to you. 
“So let me get this straight,” he says. He sounds more serious than before, which you thought you’d wanted but now you’re not so sure. Your heart trembles. “You wanted me to throw the whole game to just avoid touching my friend’s legs?” 
“She wasn’t always your friend,” you remind him. 
“Yes, she was.”
You don’t know how to respond to that. From a factual standpoint, he’s not wrong, but you know that Lily was more than that in James’ head for quite some time. He can’t boil it down to something so simple. 
The silence stretches out between you, ice-thin and just as cold. Then you shudder again, and James sets a hand on your shoulder. It’s only there for a second before he retracts it, as if unsure what he’s allowed. Your heart throbs. 
“You are cold,” he says, and his tone is doting teetering on the brink of accusatory. He grabs the hem of his sweatshirt. “Here, have—”
“I don’t want your sweatshirt,” you say sharply. 
James pauses. “Why not?” 
“I just don’t.” 
“Sweetheart, you’re cold.” 
“So what?” You cross your arms harder, trying to hide your trembling under the guise of general agitation. “That’s not what we’re talking about.” 
“What are we talking about?” he asks you. “How I let Lily sit on my shoulders as part of a game and now I’ll surely leave you for her?” 
Even as a joke, it stings. “Would you?”
“Of course not!” His hands spread out in front of him, helpless. “What do you want me to do? Should I just never be friends with another girl again?” 
“No, it’s not—it’s not that.” Your eyes burn. You’re frustrated with him for intentionally missing the point, and frustrated with yourself for needing his reassurance in the first place. “I just want to know that you’d pick her over me.” 
“I have!”
“You didn’t pick, James.” Your breathing is starting to sound ragged. The words taste acidic in your mouth. “She picked for you.” 
“Angel, that was ages ago.” James softens his voice, likely hearing the tears in yours. “I don’t see her that way anymore. She was right, we wouldn’t have worked together.” 
“But how can you know that?” Your voice breaks just as a harsh shiver goes through you, and you wrap your arms more tightly around yourself. 
“Alright, that’s enough.” You don’t have to turn around to hear that James has stopped walking behind you, his footsteps halting. Reluctantly, you slow in response but don’t turn around, waiting to see what he’s doing. “Come here.” When you don’t move, his voice hardens into a tone you don’t hear often. “Come here.” 
You turn around, more curious than anything, and James has taken his sweatshirt off. He tugs it over your head before you can say anything. 
“James!” you protest, squirming, but his hold is strong. He manages to wrestle your torso in and get one of your arms into a sleeve before he seems to decide that’s good enough and leaves you be. 
“Quit being so stubborn,” he says, still in that same tone. You stop trying to get the sweatshirt off immediately, hands dropping to your sides. James has never been so stern with you before. You don’t quite know how to react. “You’re freezing, and your hair’s still wet. There’s no sense in suffering through it just because you want to have a row.” 
“I don’t want to,” you tell him, but your words sound petulant even to your own ears. 
“Then listen.” He takes your jaw in hand, setting his eyes on yours. “I do not want to be in a relationship with Lily. I thought I did once, but I don’t anymore.” He waits a second, making sure this sinks in, before his voice softens. “I’m going to be friends with girls. That’s just…that’s the way I’ve always been. But I’m with you because I’m happiest with you, and this isn’t going to work if you don’t trust me.” 
You nod, suddenly flooded with self loathing. A tear skids down your face when you blink. “I’m sorry. It’s not about…I do trust you, I promise. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” 
“Honey,” James murmurs. The tear lands on his index finger, and his face pinches like it stings. “Listen, if I saw some guy with his hands all over you, I’d—”
“In a bathing suit,” you add tearfully. 
“With his hands all over you in a bathing suit,” he amends, “I’d probably be upset too. But you’ve got to tell me these things, you know? If you’d brought it up at the time, I could’ve told you I don’t feel that way about Lily and maybe you would’ve had a better afternoon.” 
“I didn’t want to be the jealous girlfriend,” you admit. “I really do like Lily, I didn’t mean to accuse either of you of anything.” 
“I think…I think some amount of jealousy has to be normal,” James says, brows bunched pensively even as his finger strokes at your cheek. “We’re each other’s, you know? It’s just letting it get in your head that’s the problem. If you’re thinking I’d pursue someone else while I’m with you, that doesn’t reflect very well on me.” 
You shake your head, leaning away from James’ hand to wipe your nose. “I don’t really. I know you’d be—you’d at least be nice about it. You’d tell me.” 
Pain etches itself into the indent between your boyfriend’s brows. He takes your face between both hands now, looking into your eyes determinedly. “I love you,” he says, bending to press a firm kiss between your brows. “Understand?” 
You wrap your arms around his middle, pushing past his face to tuck your head under his chin. “I love you too.” Your voice is ardent if a bit wobbly, tears that feel more like a reaction to a past fright than anything else still moving sluggishly down your face. “I’m sorry.” 
“It’s forgiven, sweetheart.” James’ big palm comes to rest between your shaking shoulder blades, scrubbing up and down firmly. “Let’s get home, yeah?”
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javiscigarette · 7 months
Text
Ease
Javier Peña x f!reader
Requested:
requesting… daddy!javi comforting u after a stressful work day 👀 pls n thank
warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, fingering, squirting, spitting, spanking, a bit ass play (I cant resist), dirty talk, daddy!javi obviously, d/s dynamics obviously, extreme overuse of pet names and I'm not sorry, fluffy Javi deserves its own warning
w/c: 5.3k
a/n: the long overdue Javi fic is finally here lmao I wrote this very quickly and I haven't written for him in a long time so it may not be my best but I'm honestly just proud that I finally got something out :)) pls let me know if you like it!! ALSO! I reached 1.5k followers awhile ago which is just mind blowing so I just wanted to say THANK YOU to everyone who has joined me and continues to support me. This blog and all the friends I've made here have helped me through some pretty rough times and I'm forever grateful AHHH I just you all soo much!!
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You’re not there to greet him when he opens the door. Usually you’d have a glass of whiskey in your hand for him, already a little tipsy from the glass you had for yourself earlier.
There’s a unpleasant shiver that runs down his spine as the thought of you being in some sort of danger immediately crosses his mind. But the sound of you puttering around in the kitchen gives you away. That and the haze of smoke and smell of burnt food wafting through the entire apartment. 
He kicks his shoes off and loosens his tie as he rounds the corner to the kitchen to find you standing in front of the stove, tending to what he assumes is some chicken in a pan. The exhaust fan on the range hood and the ceiling fan are working overtime, pushing the smoke out of the kitchen and through the open window. 
“Hi, bebita” Javi says as he enters the smokey kitchen. You don’t say anything in response, just give him a quick sideways glance before turning back to the stove. 
He crosses the room and moves to stand behind you. Maybe if he had seen the frown on your face, or the way your eyebrows are deeply creased in frustration, he would’ve said something very different. 
But he didn’t see. 
“Dinner smells delicious” he teases, squeezing your hips. He’s expecting a little chuckle from you, or at least an annoyed eye roll with a hidden smile. 
So he’s caught very off guard when you slam the spatula down on the counter with a loud, frustrated sigh.
“Well I’m sorry that I tried to make a nice meal. Guess I’m fuckin’ useless at that too.” 
You try to push yourself out of his grasp, but his grip only tightens. 
“Hey okay okay, easy.” Javi soothes, turning you around so you’re facing him. “What’s wrong, bebita?” he asks, his tone immediately switching from teasing to soft and tener.You puff out a heavy sigh, refusing to look up at him and staring at his white shirt stretched across his chest instead. 
All the thoughts about your horrid day at work that you’ve been trying to block out break the damn and come flooding back into your head; your boss telling you that you fucked up two different major tasks and refusing to tell you how to do them correctly, catching your coworkers gossiping about you in the breakroom, your computer dying right before you could save any of the work you had done for the day, and how you tried to come home and cook as a distraction but you clearly forgot about the chicken sitting on the stove and almost caught the house on fire. 
You hadn’t even noticed the tears welling up in your eyes until Javi is wiping away the ones that have brimmed over and slid down your cheeks. 
“Cariño…” Javi whispers, his tone drenched with concern. That’s all it takes. You instantly break down, falling forward into Javi’s chest as your whole body shakes as you sob, your tears wetting the crisp fabric of his shirt. 
You tell him everything in between wet gasps and uneven breaths, unloading everything at once. He just holds you through it, nodding along and giving you an occasional understanding hum while running his palms up and down your back until you finish talking. 
“Your boss is an asshole” is the first thing Javi says. “Your coworkers too” 
You respond with a pathetic sniffle. “I really fucked up though. And now everyone thinks I can’t do my job” 
"Bebita,” Javi starts, continuing to rub soothing circles on your back. “Everyone has tough days at work. It doesn't define your abilities or your worth. You're so much more than a single bad day."
You sniffle again, still leaning heavily against him for support. 
"It's just... I'm tired of feeling like I'm constantly failing."
Javi clicks his tongue and moves one hand to use two fingers to gently tilt your chin up, making you meet his easy gaze. 
"You're not failing, mi amor. Sometimes things don’t go as planned and that’s okay. You're learning and growing."
You wish he wasn’t so right all the time. Sometimes talking back to the false narrative that runs rampant in your head 24/7 is too much work. 
"I know”  you sigh, wiping away tears with the back of your hand. “It’s just hard not to let it get to me."
Javi's thumb brushes against your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. 
"I understand. Just remember you're not alone in this. I’ll always be here for you, my sweet girl” 
You manage a weak smile, feeling a bit of warmth starting to seep back into your heavy heart. 
“Thank you” you whisper.
Javi smiles warmly, his eyes full of admiration and unwavering support. 
“Of course, baby. I’m here for you always. No matter what.” 
You let your head fall back to his chest and you take a deep breath. He keeps rubbing your back, physically feeling the tension leaving your body as you melt against him. Without your brain in overdrive, you finally register the smell of his faded cologne and his cigarettes sticking to his shirt, the scent immediately washing away more of the tension in your muscles. The warm feeling in your chest starts to spread all the way down to your toes, your whole body feeling 10 times lighter than it did 5 minutes ago as his embrace brings you a sense of solace you hadn’t experienced all day. 
After another silent minute or two, he places a kiss to your hairline before leaning in close, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. 
“You know, there’s another way to forget about it for a little while.”
His low voice alone already has the base of your spine tingling. You pick your head up to meet his gaze, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. 
“Yeah?” you ask, a weak smile slowly spreading across your face.
“Mhmm” he hums, his hands sliding down to your waist and slipping under the hem of your shirt, his warm fingers splaying over your skin. 
"You've had a tough day," Javi continues, his voice a sensual murmur. "And I think you deserve something to take your mind off all that stress."
His words, laden with suggestion, push all the worries out of your body, replacing it with a thrill that courses through your veins. He leans in until his face is inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Let me take care of you, bebita."
All you can do is nod dumbly. Javi grins as he pulls you in closer. His lips capture yours in a slow, tantalizing kiss, his lips soft and warm against yours, the taste of him flooding your senses. His hands slide up from your waist to your rib cage, rucking up your shirt in the process. Every touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, drawing you impossibly closer to him. He pulls away just long enough to pull it over your head before his lips capture yours again. 
He wraps one arm around you, keeping you close as his other hand cups your jaw, his fingers curling around the back of your neck as his thumb mindlessly brushes your cheek. Your hands find their way to his back, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. 
He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and you part your lips with a soft sigh, his tongue immediately sliding against yours. It’s a dance of desire and vulnerability, an unspoken promise that he’s here to take away all of your worries. The rest of the world quickly fades into a distant blur, leaving just the two of you in this electric connection.
 His lips eventually leave your mouth, his breathless chuckle fanning across your jaw at the sound of your quiet whimper. He trails wet kisses along your jaw, down to the side of your neck, each one accompanied by a soft exhale that causes goosebumps to erupt over every inch of your skin. The sensation is exquisite and maddeningly arousing, and you find yourself tilting your head back, giving him better access. 
His teeth gently graze over your pulse point, sending shiver coursing through your entire body. Your heart races as he finds a spot just below your collarbone, nipping and sucking before soothing the dark spot with his tongue. His hands roam your torso, big, warm palms exploring every inch of exposed skin. You can feel the bulge in his jeans rapidly grow against your hip and your core throbs with a dull ache in response. Everything that happened earlier is miles away as you feel yourself relaxing deeper into his embrace, losing yourself in him. 
He pulls away when you whine quietly and looks down at you, his pupils already blown with lust and desire. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear then ducks down to place a chaste kiss to your lips before whispering “Bedroom. Now.” 
You nod and turn to head out of the kitchen, letting out a small giggle when he lands a quick slap to your ass. His eyes are glued to your backside as he follows you to the bedroom, his fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt along the way
You flop down on the edge of the bed with Javi just a few steps behind you. He tosses his shirt to the corner of the room and starts working on his belt as he stalks towards you. You smirk and reach behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra and letting it slide off your arms. Javi licks his lips at the sight of you sitting there in only your soft cotton shorts, looking like he’s about to pounce on his prey. 
He crosses the room until he’s standing inches in front of you, then slips his belt out of the loops and tosses it aside. You reach out, intent on undoing the button and zipper of his jeans but he stops you by wrapping a large hand around your wrist before you can touch him. 
“Nuh uh, baby. I’m takin’ care of you tonight”  
His words send a strong pulse of excitement down your spine and your heart pounds in your chest. He lets go of your wrist and you let it fall limply back to your side as you stare at him through your lashes. 
“Take off your shorts.” 
You immediately follow his command, quickly standing and moving to slide your shorts and panties down your legs so fast that you stumble a bit when they get caught around your feet. Javi reaches out and grabs your arm to steady you as you step out of your shorts and kick them to the side. 
“Good girl” he chuckles, dropping his hand from your arm. You watch with wide eyes, saliva gathering in your mouth as he shuffles out his jeans, his hardened cock gently slapping against his lower abdomen. He catches your gaze and gives you a knowing wink before making his way onto the bed. You stand in place, patiently waiting for your next set of instructions as he props himself up against the headboard. 
“C’mere” he says softly, patting his thigh. You positively beam as you climb on the bed towards him. You face him and you’re about to straddle his lap, but he stops you with a hand on your hip. 
“Turn around, cariño.”
You listen and immediately turn around and sit down between his spread legs, pressing your back into his chest. His cock presses firmly into the small of your back, a warm and welcome presence. With a contented sigh, you lean back and rest your head on his shoulder. 
“You listen so well, baby” Javi rasps, his voice rough with arousal. You only hum in response, your lips curving into a grin as you glow under his praise. He presses a kiss to your temple and his hands find your torso once again, slowly sliding up and down your sides. But he can only resist temptation for so long. 
He uses both hands to cup your breasts and you both let out soft sighs in unison. 
“Tan bonita, princesa” he whispers, his fingers finding both of your nipples. A small noise escapes from your parted lips as he feathers the pads of his fingers over the sensitive buds, teasing you until they’re stiffened peaks. He then pinches both, gently rolling them between his thumb and fingers. 
“That feel good?” he asks softly, his lips moving against your temple. 
You nod, letting out an uneven breath as you involuntarily push your chest forward into his touch. He pinches a little harder, pulling a delicate gasp from you. His cock twitches against you in response. 
“Want you to use your words, bebita.” 
You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before responding. 
“F-feels good, Javi.” 
He clicks his tongue and squeezes a little harder again. 
“And what do you call me when I’m makin’ you feel good, princesa?” he asks, his voice dangerously low in your ear. 
Your mouth goes dry and your heart skips a beat in your chest. 
Fuck. 
The stress of your day was already far in the back of your mind, but Javi was intent on erasing it completely. And he knows exactly how to do so. 
“Daddy” you correct yourself, the simple word placing you on precipice of submission “Feels really good, daddy” 
“That’s right, bebita” Javi groans softly, his cock twitching in approval. “Such a good girl for me.” 
He then hooks his chin over your shoulder while you exhale a long, shaky breath as one of his hands leaves your breast and slides down your stomach. You clit pulses in anticipation, but he avoids where you want him most and instead smooths his hand over the top of your thigh. Your chest heaves with every breath as he teases you with gentle touches, getting you all worked up just the way you both like it. 
“You want me to touch you, princessa?” Javi asks, his fingertips dancing delicately on the inside of your thigh. It tickles and you reflexively try to close your legs, but he brings his foot to the inside of your calf and pushes it to the side before placing his foot flat on the bed, keeping your leg firmly in place. “Answer me.” 
“Yes, daddy, please” you whine, your voice coming out a lot more desperate than you intended. 
“Where, baby? Tell me where you want daddy’s fingers.” 
He’s teasing you, but it serves as an excellent distraction –  the events from earlier today are the least of your concerns right now. 
“You want them here?” he asks, his fingers now just barely tracing your dripping seam. “Want me to touch your pretty little pussy? Rub that pretty little clit?” 
You nod fervently and buck your hips up without thinking, your body betraying your patience and chasing after his touch. Javi chuckles darkly and harshly pinches your nipple with his other hand, making you jump in surprise. 
“Tell me, baby. Be a good girl and tell me.” 
You whimper, a hot flush spreading across your chest and creeping up your neck. You’ve been here a thousand times with him, been in far more desperate situations too. But the butterflies still tickle your tummy and the tips of your ears burn with embarrassment. 
“Want…want you to touch my pretty little pussy, daddy.” you murmur, the last of your sentence barely audible. 
He immediately rewards you by dipping two fingers into your slippery folds, groaning softly in your ear when he feels how wet you are for him. “Mmm that’s my good girl. Always fuckin’ soaked for me, huh?” he asks, dipping the tips of his fingers into your hole, gathering your slick and dragging it up to your clit. You nod lazily, your eyes fixed on his hand between your legs. 
He starts with slow, languid circles, his cock pulsing against your back with every small noise that bubbles up out of your throat. His other hand is still occupied with pinching and rolling your nipple. Hot arousal flows through your veins, every nerve ending on fire just from his easy touches. You want it faster, you need more. But you know he won’t give it to you unless you ask. 
“Pl-please, daddy. Faster please” you huff, squirming in his lap as you try to suppress the urge to buck your hips up again. 
“Look at you, princesa. Being such a good girl asking’ nicely like that” Javi whispers, instantly picking up the pace of his fingers and adding more pressure. You let out a long, low moan, the sound of it filling the bedroom. “Sound so pretty too” he adds, pressing his lips to your temple. 
His other hand leaves your nipple and he shushes you softly when you whine at the loss. He doesn’t tease you this time, his hand immediately joining the other between your legs. He keeps his two fingers on your clit, rubbing firm circles just like you asked while his other hand finds your leaking entrance. 
He doesn’t make you ask again before he slides his middle finger inside of you, probably more out of his own desperation to feel you clenching around him. You’re absolutely soaked, you juices freely flowing out of you, down his finger and into his palm like warm honey. He wants to draw it out, slowly work you up until you’re about to snap, but he’s not feeling very patient anymore. 
He slides his finger in and out of you a few more times before adding a second, curling his fingertips. He finds the spot inside of you instantly and you reward him with a loud gasp, your whole body trembling as you relax against his chest. 
“That’s it, baby. Just relax for me” Javi coos, his voice tight and strained as he tries to contain his own excitement. He pumps his fingers inside you, his fingertips nudging against the spot that has your whole body jolting with every pass. Every inch of your skin feels on fire as he works you, lewd sounds filling the room as he plays with your slick pussy. You feel wetness on your back and quickly realize that it’s his precum leaking from his warm tip, smearing against your skin as you squirm around. 
“Mierda, princesa” Javi groans as you clench tightly around his two fingers. “You close, baby?” he asks, already knowing the answer. You answer with a high-pitched whine, throwing your head back on his shoulder. 
“Cum for me, baby” Javi grunts, moving his fingers faster, bringing you to the edge. “Cum all over my fingers and then I’ll fuck you, nice and deep just how you like it” 
His fingers are relentless, rubbing dizzying circles on your clit and punching up into your g-spot. You can’t hold back anymore, rocking your hips and grinding down on his fingers. Your chest burns with every breath you manage to suck in, the hot coil in your tummy wound tightly, threatening to burst at any moment. You open your mouth and try to tell him that you’re about to cum, but every time you try to speak, the only sounds that come out are loud gasps in-between broken moans. 
And then you finally snap. Javi groans as you clamp down around his fingers, so tight that he can hardly keep moving them. He then quickly pulls them out, his eyes wide with amazement as your juices gush out of you, drops of it landing on his leg, most of it soaking the blankets underneath you. 
 “There’s my good girl” he hisses between clenched teeth. He watches intently as you thrash around, the sight of you squirting and the sweet sounds of your moans going straight to his cock as he works you through your orgasm. He doesn’t let up until you come down, whimpering and jolting at his touch. 
You collapse backwards against his chest, your head on his shoulder as you pant and try to catch your breath. He goes back to tracing your seam, his touch featherlight once again. You let out a sigh, your limbs heavy and head fuzzy with pure ecstasy.
He eventually moves his hands away, placing them on your thighs and letting out a low whistle. 
“Did so well, princesa. Look how much you came for me” Javi rasps, nosing at the column of your neck.
You pick your head up, looking down at the aftermath of your orgasm. You laugh breathlessly at the dark spot underneath you and the liquid on Javi’s calf shining in the dim glow of the lamp on the bedside table. Javi’s chest rumbles with his own chuckle as he presses sweet kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. 
He doesn’t give you much time to recover before he taps your thighs and gives you your next command. “Hands and knees, princesa.” 
You’ve barely had time to catch your breath, but your pussy still aches in anticipation of his earlier promise. You take a deep breath and find enough strength to sit up straight. Your limbs are weak and noodly as you crawl over to a dry spot on the bed and get into position, your ass in the air with your face pressed against the soft blankets. 
You crane your neck to watch Javi who flashes you a devilish grin as he assumes his position on his knees behind you. You give him a sweet smile back and wiggle your ass. And he takes the bait, groping your cheeks with both hands before he spreads you open, putting everything on display just for him. 
“Fuckin’ gorgeous, baby.” he growls before leaning over to spit. You gasp and moan softly at the feeling of the warm liquid landing on your asshole and sliding down to pool at your swollen clit. He then brings his thumb up, using the pad to gently rub his saliva against your puckered hole. “So fuckin’ gorgeous” 
“Daddyyyy” you whine pitifully, pushing your hips back into his touch. He chuckles breathlessly and wraps a hand around the base of his cock and lining himself up. 
“You’re so good, baby.” Javi starts as he slides his cock in the mess between your cheeks. “My strong, beautiful, intelligent, good girl.”
Your face heats up at the praise, the words stirring up the butterflies in your stomach yet again. 
“Thank you, daddy” you murmur, the sound muffled by the blankets. Javi just hums and continues to glide his cock through the wetness, addicted to the way whimper every time his cockhead brushes against your swollen clit and your aching entrance. You whimper and wiggle your hips again, trying to get what you want. 
“Repeat it.” Javi commands simply. “Wanna hear you say it” 
You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper again. He’s completely taken over your headspace now, forcing you into a place of submission where there’s no room to think about anything other than him and what he asks of you. This is how he takes care of you, how he can turn every bad day on its head and take away every single one of your worries until you’re a blissed out mess underneath him. And he’s really fucking good at it. 
“I’m your strong, beautiful, intelligent, girl” you choke out, a fresh wave of slick gushing out of you and onto his rock hard cock at the forced admission.
“Forgot one” he breathes, his thumb still rubbing at your tight little hole. You wrack your brain, thoughts moving slower than syrup in your head as you try to remember what he said not even 10 seconds ago. 
“Good.” you say, as soon as you remember. I’m you’re good girl, daddy.” 
“Yes you are, baby” Javi says, notching his tip at your entrance. “So fucking good for your daddy.” 
He pushes all the way in, burying himself to balls deep in your aching cunt in one smooth movement. The sounds you make are obscene as you twist your fists in the blanket underneath him. He’s so deep, you swear you can feel him somewhere near your lungs. Just like he promised. He moans roughly behind you, the feeling on your warm walls squeezing rhythmically around his neglected cock overwhelming all of his senses.
But you don’t let him catch a break. You barely give yourself time to adjust before you take matters into your own hands and start rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his cock. Javi inhales sharply, both hands finding your hips and trying to hold you in place, but you’re not having it. 
“Daddy please–oh shit– please fuck me, need it so bad” you whine as you continue to rock your hips despite Javi’s best efforts to stop you. 
Javi just growls in response, his fingertips digging into your hips as he slides out until just his tip rests inside before slamming back into you. The loud moan that he pulls from you travels as a shiver down his spine and fuels his fire. He quickly finds a steady pace, brutally slamming into you like he’s fucking the stress out right out of your body. You let all the moans and whines and whimpers float freely out of your mouth as you take what he gives you, as he fills you up and stuffs you full over and over and over again. 
“You're so good for me” Javi grunts, gripping your hips and moving them backwards to meet his every thrust. “Feel so fucking good squeezing me like that, this tight little pussy was fucking made for me” 
Your eyes roll back into your head, his words once again turning your brain into mush as he fucks you into another plane of existence. You’re already teetering on the edge of another release, your lower abdomen burning with it, your swollen, neglected clit pulsing and desperate for attention.
And Javi feels it too.
“Already gonna cum again?” Javi asks breathlessly before landing a smack to your ass. You yelp in shock and there’s another wave of your juices leaking out onto his cock. 
“Ohh you like that, don’t you baby?” Javi coos before spanking you again, this time a bit harsher. Your face scrunches in pleasure and words have completely eluded you so you just cry out against the mattress, hoping that and your clenching pussy gets the point across. 
Thankfully Javi doesn’t ask you to answer him. Instead he keeps fucking into you, delivering firmm hits to your ass, completely mesmerized with the way it jiggles as he spanks and fucks into you. He’s just as close as you are, never lasts very long if he’s inside without cumming at least once beforehand. 
He moves one hand from your hip to between your legs, his fingers tracing where you’re stretched out so nicely around his thick cock before they land on your clit once again. You sob as he starts immediately rubbing fast, harsh circles that send you speeding towards the finish line. 
“Oh fuck, daddy! Gonna cum m’gonna cum pleasssee let me cum” 
Javi sucks in a harsh breath, his eyebrows furrowing together as his cock lurches inside of you. 
“Yeah, fuck yeah, baby. Cum on this cock like a good girl” Javi grits out, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenches his teeth together, trying to hold himself together. Your hands scramble against the blankets as he slams into you with newfound vigor, pushing you up the bed with each thrust and making you scream in ecstasy.
“Cum and then I’ll fill you up” he grunts. “I’ll fill you up and fuck it so deep that it’ll be leaking out of you for days, just reminding you of how good you are for me. Always so fucking good baby jesus christ” 
His filthy promises send you flying over the edge. You bury your face in the blankets and scream, your legs giving out from the force of it, your hips dropping to the bed and leaving you in a prone position. And Javi doesn’t miss a beat. He presses his chest against your back, using his freehand to support the bulk of his weight as he keeps working his fingers on your clit the best he can, not letting his pace falter even once. 
The new position shoves his cock even deeper inside of you, punching against your cervix with each thrust as he rearranges your guts. Your only option is to lie there let him drag out your release for as long as possible. 
“That’s it” Javi rasps, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked now. “Sweet little pussy is fuckin’ milking my cock, cariño. You want my cum? Want me to stuff you fuckin’ full?” 
You’re too far gone to respond, reduced to nothing but putty in his hands, your trembling body limp and pliant just for him to use. He can only hold it together for a few more thrusts before he buries himself all the way inside of you, spilling his hot seed deep inside of you.
Staying true to his promise, he fucks you through it, shallowly moving his hips and pushing his cum as deep as possible. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, the sensation of it all pushing you over the edge once again, though you’re not sure if you ever came back from the last one. Javi watches in amazement as you cum again, your voice breaking on desperate sobs while you squeeze around him, truly milking him for all he’s worth.
He moves his hand from your clit once your moans start to die down and then collapses on top of you, carefully though as not to completely crush you. You welcome the weight, a comforting pressure that makes you feel so warm and safe and secure. 
He stays buried inside of you as you both come down. You can feel his heart pounding from where his chest is pressed against you, his warm breath fanning across your neck as you both try to catch your breath. The two of you stay there for a while, basking in the post coitus glow. His cock softens inside of you and he only moves when his cum starts to dribble out of you. 
You whine softly as he moves to sit up, his now soft cock slipping out of you and leaving you feeling empty. But the feeling doesn’t last too long. 
He scoots back so he’s kneeling between your legs, both hands on your cheeks and spreading you open again. You feel his eyes burning holes into your skin as he watches his cum slowly leaking out of you. He doesn’t let it fall too far though, using a finger to scoop up all that’s dribbled out and pushing it back inside. You moan softly at the sensation and it takes everything in him not to fuck you with his fingers once again. 
“Think we need to get you in a nice hot shower” he says, his tone sweet and soft once again as he removes his fingers. 
You turn your head to look at him through hooded eyes, a dopey smile plastered to your face, looking completely fucked out.
“And we’re ordering take out too” he announces, leaning over to place a sweet kiss on your cheek. Images of the burnt chicken sitting on the stove float through your head, along with fuzzy memories of the events from earlier today. But you don’t give a single fuck anymore. Javi thoroughly wiped every ounce of stress from your brain. And now anything that isn’t directly related to you and Javi at this moment, on your shared bed in the dim light of the evening sun filtering through the curtain is far, far away. 
“We’re not getting fucking chicken” is all you say and the sound of yours and Javi’s laughter rings pleasantly through the room and in your ears as content seeps deep into your bones.
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I LOVE THIS MAN okay thank u for reading <333
1K notes · View notes
catladyoftheyr · 17 days
Text
Muscle Memory
Pt 2
Miguel O’Hara x reader
Summary: you left town for your career, but you and Miguel always end up hooking up whenever you come back home.
Warnings/ Authors note: I was listening to Muscle Memory by Kelsea Ballerini and I had a vision and had to write it down.
Warnings and other things to be aware of : SMUT (FILTHY 18+ I’m so serious), alcohol, but neither character becomes inebriated, rough sex, unprotected p in v, light choking, filming of sex, oral sex for both parties, lots of dirty talk, creampie, facial, semi public sex/exhibitionism. You’re fucking against his car in a back alley parking lot.
Word count: 2.7k
Special tag for @lazyjellyfish300 I know you wanna read it bb 🕷️🪼
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You haven't been home in months, but as you walked through the entryway of the local dive, you saw that your favorite spot on the end of the bar was still open. You slid onto the stool and ordered a margarita on the rocks. You sipped your drink quietly and pulled out your phone to check your email. You moved to a larger city after college for your career, but now it felt like work followed you everywhere you went, even off the clock. You were so absorbed in work that you didn’t notice that someone had taken the seat next to you at the bar: at least until you heard a familiar voice.
“Every time I see you you’re on that damn phone”
“Some of us have jobs, Miguel.”
“I have a job, thank you very much. It’s my bar you’re sitting in if I recall.” He smirked as he said the last sentence.
“Don’t you have work to do then? Besides terrorizing paying customers?” You couldn’t help but crack a smile. Miguel might be annoying, but he was still the closest friend you had back home. He’d never resented you for leaving town, even if he’d wanted you to stay.
“You know your drinks are on the house when you come here, cariño”. He made his accent heavy when he used the pet name. He knew you had a soft spot when he spoke Spanish. Miguel motioned to the bartender and ordered you another margarita
“It seems like bad business practice to give free drinks to any beautiful woman that walks through your door. O’haras is gonna close if you keep it up” you joked, sliding your phone back in your pocket.
“Aye, only for you. How long are you staying this time?” He replied. He slid your drink in front of you, toying with the straw. The glass looked comically small next to Miguel’s large hands. Your mind drifted to the nights where his hands had been tangled in your hair, palming your breasts, and inside your-
You came back to reality when you felt Miguel playing with your bra strap under your sleeve. The song had changed to something country, and Miguel was humming in your ear. “You know what they say, tequila makes her clothes fall off” he whispered as he slid your strap further down your shoulder.
You slid your strap back in place and moved Miguel’s hand back to the bar. “You’re gonna have to do better than if you want to get in my pants tonight, Mig.” You wanted him just as badly, but weren’t ready to give in just yet. You wanted to make him work for it. “I bet you can’t beat me at pool”
Miguel let out a loud laugh and threw back his head. “That’s not even a fair fight. I’d feel terrible seeing you lose.”
“Aww is Miggy scared to lose to a girl? Sounds like you’re a chicken” you replied, knowing exactly how to rile him up. You got a thrill out of agitating Miguel, the way his forehead creased, his mouth curling downward.
“I’m telling you right now that I’m gonna wipe the floor with you,” he shot back, clearly holding back a smile. “Don’t expect me to hold back just because you suck” he chuckled.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less than the best from Miguel O’Hara.” You walked over to the pool table, sensing Miguel’s eyes trained on your ass as he ordered another round of drinks. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not polite to stare?” You called after him.
“I’m just admiring the view, baby”
If he wanted a show, you’d be sure to give him one. You made sure to raise your arms as high as you could when you reached for the pool sticks. You made sure that your shirt rode up, exposing a strip of skin above the waistband of your shorts. You handed one of the sticks to Miguel with a smug grin on your face. He bit his lip as he watched you arrange the balls in the rack; he ogled you as you deliberately arched your back bending over the table. “You can break,” you said flirtatiously.
Miguel took on a look of intense focus. You could see the way he calculated the best angle to shoot from. His t-shirt came untucked from his jeans when he moved around the table. You took in the view of his tanned skin, and the way his immense frame loomed over everything. Miguel had sunk three balls in quick succession before missing his next shot. He swore under his breath and turned to face you. “Your turn, sweetheart.”
“Come on, Mig. At least give me a chance to play before you sink everything.”
“No way! I told you I wasn’t going to go easy on you.”
You knew you didn’t stand a chance at winning; but you weren’t giving up without a fight. There weren’t any rules about distracting your opponent. You gave your shorts a gentle tug to emphasize your figure before analyzing which ball to aim for. You picked your target and leaned forward, moving your hips from side to side knowing Miguel was watching you. You took your shot slowly and watched with disappointment as the cue ball sank into a hole. “Fuck”
“Woof, a scratch on your first turn? You’re making this too easy” Miguel taunted you with a smirk. He grabbed two bottles of beer off a table and tore off the caps with his teeth, spitting them into his open palm before shoving them in his pocket. It was his favorite party trick, and he knew it turned you on. He turned back to the pool table. “Watch and learn, nena. This is how a pro does it.” He sunk two more stripes and missed the third.
That made five balls to your whopping total of zero. Time to ramp up your distraction strategy. “If you’re so good, then why don’t you help with this next shot?” You tried to sound as innocent as possible.
Miguel obliged and stood behind you, his frame towering over you. He placed his arms on yours and the heat of his body sent shockwaves down your spine. You bent together in perfect sync as Miguel showed you where to aim, saying something about keeping an eye on the ball and how to line up your shot. You weren’t listening, instead pressing your hips against his. You moved slowly and deliberately, grinding against his crotch. The friction was driving you both crazy, but neither of you wanted to be the first to admit it. Miguel stifled a moan and pressed into you even harder. Neither of you cared about pool anymore. He nipped at your ear and you tried not to squeak. The pool sticks fell to the tabletop and Miguel leaned to whisper in you ear.
“Follow me.” Miguel grabbed your hand and you both stumbled out the back door of the bar into the parking lot. Immediately he had you pressed against the brick wall of the building. His lips crashed into yours, desperate and frenzied. You kissed back and grabbed his hair in an effort to pull him even closer. His tongue found its way into mouth while you moaned into the kiss. Miguel broke the kiss only to move his lips to your neck. “You’re such a fucking tease.” His eyes bored into yours. “Every time you come home you come into my bar, practically fucking begging to end up underneath me.”
“And you it up, Miggy.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and hoisted yourself up to cross your legs behind his back. “You want me so bad; you’d do anything for this pussy.” Miguel’s hands cupped your ass, sliding under the hem of your shorts. You moaned as he kneaded your flesh expertly. He carried you over to his car while you were still wrapped around him. Miguel let you down and leaned against the hood of his car, his cock clearly straining against the denim of his jeans.
“This is what you do to me, baby. You drive me so fucking crazy.” He groaned. You rubbed his cock through the fabric, relishing the noise he made as you teased him. You unbuckled his belt and tugged down his pants and boxers. Miguel’s cock sprang free and you could barely wrap your hand around his thick girth. You were no stranger to his body but could swear he seemed bigger than you remembered. Miguel moaned loudly as you slowly your hand up and down his shaft, taking care to rub your thumb over his sensitive tip.
Whenever you and Miguel hooked up it felt natural. You’d done this so many times you both knew exactly what the other liked. Every nook and cranny, every secret spot. You knew exactly which buttons to press to drive each other wild. You picked up the pace of your strokes before kneeling to take him in your mouth. “Please baby. I need more. Need you to suck my cock.” Miguel’s voice was desperate and pleading. You licked from base to tip, tasting the salt of the precum he was leaking like a faucet. You bobbed your head up and down, struggling with his size. Miguel bucked his hips in response and you made it halfway down the length of his cock.
You came up for air and spit in your palm and began stroking the base while you sucked. Miguel groaned and you felt him wrap a hand in your hair, pushing your mouth down further. “Come on baby, I know you can take me.” Your hands fell to your sides and Miguel’s hands guided you up and down his shaft. “You’re so fucking pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock.” His pace quickened and he began to fuck your face, thrusting down your throat. He pulled out of your mouth and started stroking himself. “Fuckkk I’m gonna cum. Open your mouth for me, baby.” You closed your eyes and stuck out your tongue, feeling ropes of semen hit your face and tongue. You licked your lips, tasting the salt and sweat. You opened your eyes to see Miguel had his phone out. “Smile for me, hermosa. You look so pretty with my cum on your face I want to remember this” he cooed while snapping pictures.
Miguel helped you up off your knees and swiped his fingers softly across your face before popping them into his mouth to clean them. He kissed you again before pressing you face down against the hood of his car. You felt his large hand palming against your pussy through your shorts. “Mmmplease, Mig. Don’t tease me like this.” He kept rubbing, pressing the fabric into your folds.
“You’ve been teasing me all night, baby. Paybacks a bitch.” Miguel crouched down and kissed your pussy through your denim shorts; You felt him massage your ass while he pressed his mouth against you. He pressed down firmly as you squirmed under his touch, desperately trying to increase the friction. “Stop fucking wiggling.” He yanked your shorts down so the only thing between him and your cunt was the thin fabric of your thong. He rubbed your clit through your panties and you gasped.
“Please, baby. I need more” you moaned breathlessly. He picked up the pace, making quick circles around your bud with his large fingers. You felt the pleasure building steadily as Miguel worked his magic. “Ah! I’m almost there. Keep going, Miggy!” Just as the words left your mouth he stopped, leaving you hanging on the edge of your orgasm. “What the fuck was that for?!” You turned to face him and saw a shit eating grin on his face. “It’s not fucking funny, Mig” you groaned.
“I told you, payback is a bitch. You don’t get to cum until I say you can, baby.” You sighed and Miguel pressed you against the car hood again with one hand, using the other to push your panties to the side. He slid one thick finger into you and moved it slowly in and out. “You’re so fucking wet for me baby. And so tight. I’m gonna stretch this pussy out” he cooed, adding a second finger. “That’s it, baby.” He knelt down again and you felt him trade his fingers for his tongue. He darted in and out of your entrance, and you flooded with wetness. “You taste so fucking good”. Miguel continued licking, kissing, and sucking every fold of your slit. The pleasure building up was starting to become unbearable; you had no idea how you were going to be able to hold back. Then Miguel said the magic words: “Cum for me, cariño” he purred, sucking on your clit as if his life depended on it.
You let yourself fall over the edge and you gasped as your orgasm overtook you. Waves of pleasure racked your body and you found yourself speechless. You were coming down from the rush when you felt the tip of Miguel’s cock poking at your entrance. “It’s too big” you moaned, already feeling the stretch from just the tip.
“Shhh, it’s okay. You’ve done this before. You’re so good at taking me, baby.” Miguel replied, pressing in another inch of his girth. He grunted as he felt you stretching around him. “Your pussy is so good. You make me feel so good.” Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you up to his chest, pushing his cock in further. He grabbed your hair and turned your face toward him to kiss you again. The kiss deepened and became frenzied as you felt him going deeper and deeper until he finally bottomed out inside of you. You felt so full you couldn’t believe he fit inside of you.
“Your cock is so fucking big, Miggy. I need you to fuck me.” You moaned, not caring if anyone else was around. Miguel took your words to heart and immediately started pumping in and out, your wetness running down your thighs. He kept a steady pace, hitting the sweet spot inside of you with every thrust. “Fuck me harder” you cried, cockdrunk.
Miguel pulled out and flipped you over, dragging you both to the side of his car. He pulled out his phone again and pressed record before reentering you. “Put on a show for me baby, show the camera how good I make you feel.” You moaned louder, happy to show off for him. Miguel pushed up your shirt to expose your tits and palmed them roughly with one hand. He groped and squeezed, pinching and rolling your nipples between his digits.
“Fuck, Miggy. You feel so good. Keep going”
“You’re taking this cock so well, baby. The camera loves you. You’re such a little slut for me I love it.” He pumped harder, hitting your cervix with his tip. His spare hand moved from your chest to your throat and he squeezed lightly. You let out a moan and felt pleasure start to build in your core again. You used one hand to start rubbing circles on your clit while Miguel was thrusting. “That’s it, baby. Rub it out for me. You’re taking my cock so well.”
“M-mig I’m close. I’m gonna cum” you squeaked out, the circles on your clit becoming more frantic.
“Go on, nena. Cum on my cock. Show me how pretty you look when you’re cumming for me.” Miguel’s encouragement pushed you over the edge and your second orgasm ripped through your body. You felt yourself clench tighter around his cock and he thrusted harder, taking his hand off your throat and using it to steady you against the side of the car. “I’m gonna cum, baby. I’m gonna put a baby in you, then you can’t leave me again.” Miguel gave one final thrust before you felt him release, spilling his seed inside of you. He grunted before pulling out slowly.
“That was so good, mig. I remember why I come back to this place when I’m in town now” you joked, pulling your clothes back into place. Miguel finished redressing himself and planted a soft kiss on your forehead.
“Yeah? Well maybe you should come home more often then.”
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skteezcursed · 27 days
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❝HELLO, DARLING❞ — h.hj (request)
PAIRING. idol!hwang hyunjin x fem!reader.
GENDER&WARNINGS. smut. idol! au. pleasure dom hyunjin. sub reader. established relationship. pet names (darling, baby, slut). fingering. cunnilingus. praised degradation. overstimulation. clothed sex. nipple play. unprotected sex (please don’t). again, this turned out way filthier than i originally planned.
SYNOPSIS. Hyunjin gets back home after a formal event, he knew you loved to see him in a suit, so it was no real surprise when he found you eating him up, so he decided to take advantage of that as you were so pretty waiting on the couch for him to arrive.
WORD COUNT. 3,4k.
NOTES. english is not my first language. request made by my little star @straykidsholicleigh, thank you babes, hope you like it! bye ♡.
IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraing how any of the people quoted here are in real life.
CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡
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                It hasn’t been long since he left the event, his eyes still hurt from all the camera flashes, all he could think about was getting to your house for a much deserved five days of rest before heading back to the recording studio for the next comeback. As he checked the time, he sighed, you were probably half asleep by now, but it didn’t matter, all he wanted was you wrapped around his arms, your scent intoxicating his lungs, just having you close, that was all he wanted.
                Hyunjin said a quick goodbye to the other members in the car and the driver as they left him on the parking lot of the apartment building, his face quickly masked and sunglasses on his eyes, covering the recent piercing he got on his eyebrow. He politely said goodnight to everyone he encountered, hoping no one would recognize him, pressing the button to your floor, his dried throat not helping with the anxiety that still rushed through his veins from the event, something that always happened, something he’d probably never get used to it.
                His fingers quick to type in the sequence of numbers to enter your apartment, finding it on a dim light, chuckling as he stepped inside, realizing how you’d still cared for him. Quick feet towards the chicken as he took both glasses and mask, his hands found a glass, quickly filling up with water, his throat thanking him for that, as he put some more water, turning around drinking a few more. His eyebrows quirked up as he found you staring at him, a smirk finding his delicious lips as he left the glass in the sink, lazy steps your way as he reminded how you loved him in a suit.
                “Hello, darling,” his hoarse voice made the tingling sensation, that it always accompanied his presence, to rush through your body, as he noticed how you shut your legs, the smirk grew wide as he squats at your side on the couch, “why aren’t you asleep, baby?”
                “Wanted to be awake when you came home,” your eyes lingered a little too much on his piercing – that you loved so much – and his plumped lips, as your hands wrapped around the suit he was using, unlike his usual choice, black on black – which you loved – he had a black and white. “Have to thank you stylist for the change in the black-on-black choice.”
                “Does my darling like this choice of suit?” He purred as his lips met the spot bellow your ear, making you gasp as his left hand found your thigh. “Or would she prefer to see it on the floor?”
                “Floor, please.”
                He chuckled at the reaction he got, stepping away from you to leave the black suit in a place it wouldn’t be damaged in anyway, as he turned to you loosening his tie, you were already turned to him on the couch, your feet now touching the floor, but your legs were crossed and your silk night dress hugging every single part of your body, including your hardened nipples, which were the first to catch Hyunjin’s attention as he rolled up the sleeves of the white shirt, unbuttoning the first three buttons of the shirt as he approached you.
                Eyes lingered on his veiny forearm, falling on his hand and long fingers, imagining how well they always took care of you, how they curled inside of you… You pressed your thighs together, getting a ‘tsk’ from Hyunjin as his hands went up your half-covered thighs, fingers each time closer to where you wanted them as your eyes lingered on his forearm, God you loved when rolled up his sleeves, the pool in your underwear making it even more clear how much you liked it.
                “What is it my darling?” His hands found the inside of your thighs as his knees found the floor, as you pressed your thighs again, his hands swiftly and firmly spread them open, the wet patch on your laced underwear now completely visible to him before he got closer to you, the end of his tie finding your clothed clit, the wetness making the fabric thin enough to make you jolt at the contact his tie had with you clothed clit. “Did my suit turned you on that much? Or was it my rolled-up sleeves?” You whined as one of your hands found his tie pulling him closer, trying to feel his lips on you. “Or is it just the need to have me inside you, somehow?”
                “Hyunie, please…”
                His smirk vanished as his lips crashed into your, firm, dominant, hungry. His hands quickly spreading your legs further apart as his clothed crotch pressed deliciously on your soaking core, making you moan in between the kiss before his teeth bit your lower lips, pulling it lightly as his eyes met yours, both full of lust, hungry for each other.
                “How may I help you, darling?”
                “Please, Hyunie, I need you.”
                “Where do you need me though?” His left hand squeezed your right thigh as his right hand wandered on the inside of your left, the tips feather like touches, burning your skin as they got closer to your soaking cunt. “Is it here?” He squeezed your inner thigh closer to where you wanted him, as you shook your heard he sighs and kept moving his hands, as his fingers quickly found your wet underwear, but quickly went up, to your nightgown, finding your hard nipples not so well hidden under the silk dress. “How about here?”
                You arched your back as he pinched your right nipple, a chuckle leaving his mouth as he pulled the upper part of the nightgown down, just enough to expose your hardened sensitive nipples as his right hand took the right one, as his mouth found the left, your right hand pulling him closer to you by the tie before your left hand find his wine colored hair, pulling it as his teeth bit your left boob, leaving a mark for the morning.
                His wicked grin quickly finding your eyes as his right hand pinched your nipple once more as he lashed forward, silencing your screamed moan with his lips, but this time it was sloppier, you could tell your lips were red and swollen just like his, just how he knew you liked to see him. His fingers pinched your sensitive nipple one last time making you cry out a moan as his hands wrapped around your neck, no pressure, just asserting dominance, light pressure squeezes that made you see stars as you felt his bulge again against your soaking cunt as he kissed all the way down your jawline until he found the sweet spot below your ear.
                “You still haven’t answer, darling,” his thumb pushed your jaw up and his teeth sank in your neck making you moan as he marked you once again, your hips moving as you tried to get more friction against his bulge, making him laugh against your neck. “Such a pathetic little slut aren’t you?” You whined as you felt his hips took a considerable distance from you, shutting your legs around him, making him laugh and pull your face to him, his lips mere millimeters away from yours. “You either tell me where you want me, or I’ll leave you alone to take care of yourself, got that bitch?” You could cum just by the way he was talking, just by the looks he was giving you, just because of him. You nodded and gasped as his grip around your neck tighten. “I knew you were a good slut, just need to be reminded of your place.”
                “Hyunie, ple-please,” you whined again taking his forearm and pulling slightly, but he didn’t make a single attempt on letting your neck go, “please Hyunie, I need you, I need your fingers inside of me, please.”
                He could have cum at just the sight of you pleading for him to touch you, he loved to make you beg, he loved to see you melting under him, his pretty little darling, his fucking dirty slut.
                “Should we remove this shameful piece of fabric then?” You watched as both his hands found your panties ripping them apart, the lace destroyed but you couldn’t care less as you felt the cool air against your hearted soaking core. “Now, let’s see how wet a bitch can get,” his long middle and index fingers moved slowly around your labia, your arousal quickly wetting them as he parted your lips making you clench around nothing, “such a filthy little slut and this is all for me, isn’t it?”
                The tip of his index finger played with your entrance, as he lowered himself, not breaking eye contact until your glistering pussy was the only thing he could see, taking his finger out before opening you up even more. His hot breath reaching your clit making you clench and he chuckled as he saw it happen, you tried to force your legs shut, but he forced them open as his eyes trailed back to your face, while his own reached closer and closer to you clit as he placed a lazy light kiss there, making your hips jolt and a whine leave your lips, the smirk present as his tongue licked your folds lazily making you moan as your right hand found his wine color hair, fingers lazily messing them up so you can catch his stare as he kissed your clit once again before inserting his index and middle finger inside you making you gasp as he quickly lifted himself to crash your lips together as he swiftly moved his fingers in and out of you.
                Your hips trying to follow his fingers movements, as the heated sloppy kisses moved for your lips to your jaw and neck before it lands on your uncovered breasts. The end of his tie finding your clit again, touching It ever so lightly to become a torture, but you couldn’t stop the movement of your hips, not as his fingers pumped in and out, his teeth biting your breasts as his tongue wet your nipples from time to time. You were a huge mess under him, just like he loved it.
                The so familiar heat started to build up on your core, Hyunjin knew as his left hand held one of your trembling legs open as considering how much you clenched around his fingers, the moaning mess you were becoming, barely able to hold eye contact as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your back arched trying to give him even more access to your chest. You felt his smile and you knew you were doomed, as you barely had time to say anything before he stops his movements inside of you, making you look at him with a frustrated face.
                “Hyunie, why?”
                “All in good time, darling, need to have my time with you,“ he pulled your hips closer to the edge of the couch before pushing both legs against your chest, his hot breath meeting your swollen sensitive bud. “Such a pretty little cunt you have darling, and such a mess my little slut did, will you be good to me, hun?” Your breathing was erratic as your eyes met his, waiting for your response, as you did nothing, he kissed your clit making you whine. “You better answer when I talk to you, bitch, or else this pussy will not be filled with any cock tonight.”
                “Sorry Hyun, I’ll be good, I’ll be a good slut for you.”
                “That’s right, darling, you will be,” his tongue quickly giving kitty licks to your core and clit, making your right hand find his hair pulling ever so often as your hips moved trying to get the best of friction, seeking out your high that had been so wrongfully denied before, feeling his nose against your clit ever so often before his left hand go over your hips holding you down, “behave, I thought you said you were gonna be good, but I guess a bitch is always a bitch, right?”
                Before any word came out of your mouth, his index and middle finger entered you again making you cry and squirm, but Hyunjin didn’t complain, you could feel the vibration of his chuckle throughout your body as he took your clit in his lips, his fingers curling inside you at times he slowed down his pace, he noticed your shaking legs, your rapid breathing, how your eyes were rolling to the back of your skull as your open mouth left some moan escape from time to time.
                As his face left your cunt and his fingers started to lazily move in and out of you taking away your orgasm for the second time. You cried finding his glistering lips and nose close to your face as he crashed his lips into yours once again, you could taste yourself on his tongue, both hands finding his neck and hair as your started to made out as his fingers slowly started to gain rhythm again. The orgasm building it up faster this time around as you opened your mouth moaning loudly, your right hand finding his forearm, nails digging into the skin, as your eyes opened to get drunk on the sight of him on top of you.
                And good God, how you loved him like that.
                His hair messy, his face red and glowing from your arousal, lips red and swollen, eyes dark with lust, the sly smile on his lips because he knew how good he made you feel, because he loved how much of a mess he could make out of you. His loose tie hanging from his neck, his shirt rolled up to the elbows leaving his forearms to show just how well he was working out as his fingers disappeared inside your sensitive cunt, you saw when his thumb quickly went to your clit, circle movements tortuously joining his fingers curling inside you, making you nails dig harder on his skin, but he didn’t seem to complain as your hips also moved quickly helping you get to your high, just praying he wouldn’t deny you a third time.
                “Hy-Hyunie, please!”
                “Let go darling, I got you,” the buildup came rushing in as you screamed your denied orgasms, your left hand pulling his tie as his face found the crook of your neck, open mouth kisses being left there as his fingers lazily helped you out of your high. “Guess I stretched you enough to take my cock, what you think hun?”
                “Yes, yes please.”
                Your limbs were weak, but still you tried to reach for his clothed hard leaking cock, your mouth watering at the tent in his pants and your pussy clenching at nothing at the thought of his cock deep inside of you. Instead of letting you take his cock in hands, he held your wrists on top of your head as he laid you down, right hand bringing your trembling leg to the couch’s back rest as his left held your wrists in place on the arm rest.
                “So pretty all fucked out like that,” his right thumb caressing your bottom lip pulling it down before putting both his fingers drenched in your arousal inside your mouth, “lick it clean, bitch.”
                And so you did, your tongue skillfully wrapping around his long fingers, your taste filing your mouth as Hyunjin started to lazily pushed his clothed bulge against your sensitive core, making you squirm under him before taking his fingers out of your mouth, bringing his lips to yours, your taste on both your mouths making him ever harder as his right hand took his belt away and unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down to his knees as his cock twitched inside his underwear, making you parted your lips so he could properly see your face as he entered you.
                His fingers pulled down his underwear just enough to free his red angry leaking cock and balls, his eyes focused on you as he stroked his length, using the precum to help as your eyes wouldn’t leave his wet red tip, your mouth watering and all you wanted was to take his cock in your mouth.
                You bit your lip as you noticed Hyunjin guiding his cock to your entrance, the tip finding your clit, playing with it, making you roll your eyes, moving your hips without noticing, feeling the squeeze on your wrists, making you stop and find Hyunjin’s eyes and sly smile already on you as he once again played with his cock on your clit before lowering and finding your heated entrance, pushing just the tip inside watching as you opened your mouth with a gasp, feeling every inch on his long cock entering you, your walls hugging him all the way down as you felt his tip on your cervix.
                As you adjusted to his size, Hyunjin’s face found your neck, open mouth kisses being left there are he tried to move oh so slightly, testing how much you could take after the overstimulation he caused you earlier. As your nails found his wrist, his eyes went to yours, pleading, lustful. His lips found yours once again as his right hand settled on your hips, not breaking the kiss and he started to move fast, hitting your cervix so tortuously and deliciously that you moaned against the kiss, breaking it as his forehead touched yours, both eyes meeting.
                “Fuck, you taking me so well darling, such a good slut for me, taking my cock so well,” although you tried, you couldn’t form words, the overstimulation with how his cock was now hammering inside of you, “Oh, did I fucked you dumb, bitch? Did you like my fingers and cock so much you can’t utter a single word?”
                “So, fu-fucking go-good,” you muttered as you felt his movements become sloppier, his breathing erratic, not much different from yours. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, he was close, his lips found yours before a moan escape your lips as his right fingers found your sensitive clit again, making you cry out trying to move your hands which Hyunjin held firmly around his left hand. “Hyun, too much, so full, so- AH FUCK, PLEASE, DON’T STOP! FUCK-FUCK-FUCK!”
                Your whole body started to shake uncontrollably trying your best to decrease the overstimulation you were feeling, but Hyunjin wouldn’t let you, his body on top of yours, his right fingers still working on your clit as his thrusts became erratic, his face hiding on your neck, open mouth kisses and small bites being left there as both became a moaning mess chasing each other high. You felt the twitch of his cock and you knew it wouldn’t take long, so you tried to hold on to your high, just waiting for the moment he let his seeds fill you up.
                His thrusts stopped, his cock buried inside of you as you felt his seeds being spilled inside of you, finally allowing your body to relax as he moved a few more time, getting both of you out of your high. His left hand left your wrists, staying beside them on the arm rest, his right hand went up to the back rest as he let go on top of you, a warm and heavy blanked on top of you as your hands found the nap of his neck and his shoulder blade, light caresses there as both your breathings started to stabilize.
                “God, you are so perfect,” his eyes lifted from your neck, your hands cupping his face as he leaned in your touch, right hand on the cushion under you as the left sustained his body on the arm rest, “so perfect for me, I love you, I love you do fucking much.”
                This time, the kiss was tender, contained, sweet. Your hands playing with his hair as you pulled him in, feeling his cock twitching inside, making you clench and involuntarily move your hips making him groan against your lips, a giggle left your lips as he pressed your foreheads together.
                “C’mon baby, you started it!”
                “You’ll be the death of me, you know that right?”
                “And you love that,” you smirked kissing him again before opening your eyes, finding his glossy eyes staring back, “I love you so much Hyunie.”
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taglist: @straykidsholicleigh | @tinyelfperson | @skyisnthere101 | @itzyeunusiastrie | @not-the-herb-sage | @hyunlvrs |
general masterlist here ♡
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©skteezcursed (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.
DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.
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auggieblogs · 5 months
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"Totally worth it" | CL16
Charles Leclerc x reader Author's note: Hey, hiiii, loves. I hope you all are doing good!!! This fic is inspired by that one episode of "How I Met Your Mother"... you'll figure out which one. Happy reading, everyone<3
―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist
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The sound of footsteps echoed through the house, signalling Charles' return from the grocery store. You were curled up on the couch, feeling absolutely miserable with a cold and a slight fever. Your tissues were piled up beside you, and you had a blanket draped over your shivering form. The room felt cold despite the heater being on, and you couldn't help but sigh in discomfort.
Charles burst into the living room, carrying bags of your favourite snacks and a brown paper bag from the drug store. "I'm back, amor," he announced with a warm smile, placing the bags on the coffee table.
You smiled weakly in response, appreciating his effort to make you feel better. "Thank you, baby", you mumbled, your voice hoarse.
Charles came over, his brows furrowed with concern and felt your forehead. "You're still warm," he said softly. He then fetched a thermometer from the medicine cabinet and sat down beside you. "Open up for me, y/n." He gently placed the thermometer under your tongue and waited patiently. After a moment, he checked it and smiled, "Your fever has gone down a little bit."
You sighed in relief as he kissed your forehead, his lips warm and comforting. Charles turned on Gilmore Girls, and fluffed the pillows behind your head. He snuggled up beside you, gently kissing your knuckles.
As the day turned into evening, Charles decided it was time to make you some dinner. He headed to the kitchen, despite his terrible cooking skills, he was determined to make you some homemade chicken noodle soup. He had learned the recipe from his mother and hoped that he could manage it for your sake. You could hear him pottering about and occasionally muttering to himself.
Charles prepared the soup with love and care, making sure the broth was just right, the noodles were cooked to perfection, and the vegetables were tender. He even added a little extra seasoning, just the way you liked it.
He eventually returned with a steaming bowl of soup, a proud smile on his face. "Here you go, my love," he said, sitting beside you.
Now, I know I'm not the best cook," he admitted, "but this is the one dish my mum taught me to make. I hope it's not too terrible."
You couldn't help but laugh, a sound that turned into a coughing fit. Charles quickly handed you a glass of water before blowing on the soup to cool it down. He took a spoonful and carefully brought it to your lips. "Here, amor, let's see if it's edible."
You took a tentative sip, surprised by the taste. It was actually quite good. You nodded and smiled as Charles fed you spoonfuls, his eyes never leaving your face.
Once you had eaten, he gently wiped your mouth with a napkin and placed the empty bowl on the nightstand. Then, he tucked you back in bed, ensuring you were snug and comfortable.
He leaned in to kiss you goodnight, but you stopped him, concern in your eyes. "You don't want to kiss me, you'll get sick, Charlie."
He didn't say anything but held your face in his hands and kissed you sweetly. He'd risk a cold to take care of you.
Charles climbed into bed with you, a book in hand, and began to read aloud. His voice was soothing, and you slowly drifted off to sleep.
A few days later, it was his turn to succumb to the cold. You found him wrapped in a cocoon of blankets on the couch, looking miserable and adorable all at once. You prepared a warm bowl of soup and fed it to him, blowing on it just as he had done for you.
As you sat by his side, feeding him spoonfuls of soup, Charles couldn't help but smile through his stuffed nose.
"Totally worth it," he mumbled between bites, making you giggle.
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all my life i've been frozen, forgive me if i wince at your warmth; kiss my blue lips and say the frost brings out my eyes.
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jd6 x reader: maybe roommates wasn't the best idea (sugar pt. 2).
(warnings: blasphemous filth (we're back, and this is a good one), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (f on m), hair pulling and spit and all my usual stuff (you guys know. legs and lips and all that nonsense). lots of whining and whimpering from the ducks defenseman with the giant traps. descriptions of general insecurity (but of course!). know yourself and your limits, please don't read if you're not 100% sure).
(a/n: alright, my favorites. here you have it, the promised continuation of my jd6 sugar piece from halloween (so please read that here first so this makes sense)! and yes, it's long (11.1k), so thank you, as always, for your support and kindness and patience and gentleness. congratulations to jd6 for his return to the big leagues. this is his prize, i'm sure he'll be thrilled. it appears it's impossible for me to write a story without using tz11 as a comedic side character. obviously there is nothing realistic about this, such is the upside of fictitious writing. can you tell i had an idea for like two scenes and then filled in all the blanks? (been wanting to write gaming chair head for a million years). if you relate to the more serious insecurities addressed within this story, know i'm here for you. please believe that it is so utterly and completely fathomable that people are and will be attracted to and interested in you! anyways, please let me know what you think (and who/what you want next)! go canucks (and all-star qh43). until next time, all my love).
it had taken little convincing on either side for jamie to move in with you. it was sort of funny, how not so long ago, it had been only you in your apartment, and now he was there, too, evidence of him all around.
a few months in, you had almost forgotten what the fridge looked like without his recovery drinks lining the shelves, what the living room smelled like without his favorite candle burning, what the mudroom looked like without his shoes and bags littered around the door.
you had grown accustomed to him, in his entirety, and the more he revealed about himself, the more trouble you had remembering what this place had been like without him.
it seemed so crucially important that you knew about his culinary endeavors (he was trying ever so hard to branch out beyond chicken and rice). it seemed of the utmost significance that you understood all of his favorites of everything, and that he knew all of yours in return. because if you didn't, one of you might bring home a flavor of ice cream the other didn't like, or flowers the other didn't like the color of, or something like that.
and if he didn't know the names of your favorite movies, how would he be able to talk to you about them? and if you didn't have a little bit of a grasp on the gaming world, how could you keep up when he rambled on about it?
you told yourself it was only polite that you knew about his interests, and his family, and his friends, and his dreams. that he was only being polite when he asked about all of yours.
you were sort of shocked at how quickly he had made his presence known within your routine. his schedule merged with yours on the calendar attached to the fridge. his friends came over to play video games, yours to watch movies.
you were proud of yourself for how you had handled his moving in, really, but you'd be lying if you said he didn't have an effect on you. he was the same blushing, stuttering, beautiful boy who had dropped that plant in your doorway, after all.
and you were acutely aware of the effect he had on you, from that very first day. he didn't seem to let you forget it, like the night, a few days into your new arrangement, when you went into the kitchen around midnight to get a glass of water.
something you had done, time and time again, almost every night, alone. so you were startled, to say the least, when you felt a figure behind you. you whipped around, your heartbeat elevated, thudding in your chest, in your neck.
you placed a hand over your heart to still yourself when you recognized that shaggy dark hair, square face, broad build.
"fuck, jamie," you practically whispered, your voice tense, "you scared me." you made to pour him a glass of water, willed your body to emerge from danger mode.
"'m sorry, petal," he murmured, and his tone alone could have set your body ablaze, rumbling through you like an earthquake. "didn't mean to." apology thickened his words like cornstarch.
"'s okay," you said as you passed him the glass, took a sip from your own.
if it was light you would have seen his eyes track the motion, how his gaze seemed to get stuck on your lips around the rim of your glass.
there was something very heavy about sharing this space with him, especially now, in the cover of the night. you felt freer, almost indulgent, in taking him in. less guilty in your secret wanting. suddenly your brow furrowed in concern. "did i wake you up?"
he shrugged, took a sip of his water, which made your swallow shaky. "walls are thin," he rasped. "just wanted to make sure you were okay."
your exhale was shallow as you took in his words. this exchange in the dark was too dangerous, too much. you made to go back to your room, stopping to place a wanting palm on his corded shoulder as you passed him. you felt him flex instinctively under your touch, suddenly wanted, simultaneously, to be anywhere but here and to never leave. "thanks for checking on me, jamie," you whispered. it seemed to have been so long since someone had done that.
there was a pause full of uncertainty. "'course," he replied, rough and rolling.
you were so, so, close, and such a predicament could have ignited the foundation of the building in all of its seriousness.
that exchange, so early on in knowing him, nonetheless had you promising yourself that you wouldn't let your relationship with jamie grow beyond anything besides roommates. just roommates, you said, and that's it. anything past that boundary was too dangerous, too charged, too soaked in meaning and feeling and wanting.
but such a promise was proving hard to keep, even months later. because as comfortable as you had grown to each other, there was something so deliriously uncomfortable about being so close to each other, so ridiculously entwined in each others' days, and yet not touching, not indulging the desire you both so felt. so scared to look desperate, to be caught red handed in want, even if that was exactly true.
regardless, such a promise was proving hard to keep, especially on days like today.
you were sitting at the kitchen counter, one leg pulled up to your chest as you sat on a stool. you still worked at the same coffee shop, and you still loved it, but you had picked up some copywriting jobs here and there, too.
naturally, you looked up when you sensed another figure enter the room. your gaze caught on a very sleepy jamie with a very sleepy smile.
"morning," he said, his voice rough and raspy with remnants of night.
you felt your mouth tick upwards in response to his presence. "morning, jamie," you replied, shifting on your stool, willing jittery attraction out of your voice, out of your head. there was no space for that here, you told yourself. you cleared your throat as he made himself a cup of tea. "doing anything fun today?"
he turned to you, leaned his frame back against the counter, a movement so comfortable it made you blush. he hummed, thinking, before meeting your eyes. "nothing out of the routine," he mused, his gaze on you making you feel his attention in your feet, in the tips of your fingers. "when're you working? maybe i'll swing by."
your chest thumped at the thought of him taking time to come see you, even though that wasn't necessarily rare anymore. he visited your coffee shop at least once a week, but the sentiment of it all wasn't lost on you. the preciosity of someone deeming you worthy of a drive, however short.
you leaned on your clasped hands, scrunched up your nose in gentle pleasantry. "two to close, today," you told him, "but you don't have to come."
his eyes softened ever so slightly, his expression all maple syrup and pancakes on a lazy sunday morning. "want to, petal," he told you, taking his mug and starting back towards his room. "give me something to look forward to, eh?"
you were glad to hear his door swing shut behind him, if only so that he didn't see your face scrunch up further in guilty delight, at being his something to look forward to.
if jamie had settled into being your roommate, your favorite coworker had not settled into that fact. or maybe she had settled in, but it didn't appear that she would be giving you or him a break anytime soon.
it had only been a couple of months, and she had yet to go a day without bringing him up, nevermind going a visit without saying something you were sure would embarrass him.
as promised, after his workout and skate, the bell above the door jingled. you swore the sound was louder, more jubilant when he opened the door than any other patron.
he's here, the bell seemed to sing, finally, finally, he's here! you fought the urge to shush the inanimate object.
"well, well, well," your coworker said, wiping down the counter, "honestly, 6, i'm shocked you had any time to stop by, given your packed schedule of not shooting the puck."
you shook your head at her. "don't be mean, lovely," you chastised. you locked eyes with jamie, molten chocolate and stained glass. "i'm sure you shoot just enough."
his returning grin was carefully confident. "right as always," he told your coworker, "if we had a coaching opening i'd put in a good word."
this quickly spurred your coworker into a heated rant about how poorly the coach of the ducks was handling his roster full of young talent.
you began the process of making his drink, the one he insisted on ever since that first day. he had told you before that nothing could possibly be better than your fall themed treat. as you shook the maple syrup and espresso with ice, you missed the way a flush dusted across the bridge of his nose, like a day out in the sun.
your coworker did not miss this, however. she smirked, tilted her head. "a bit hot in here, drysdale? you look a little flushed."
he shot her a look, one which she mimicked before you turned to hand him his drink.
"here you are," you said as his hand closed over yours around the to-go cup.
your mind sparked and sputtered at the feeling of his warm hand over your fingers. he could have grabbed under your hand, the hopeless romantic in your head screeched. he could have avoided your touch, but he didn't!
but you had long ago resigned to refusing to listen to the hopeless romantic, in all of her desperate and shameful loveliness. you couldn't trust her, you had learned. she only ever left you feeling lost and longing.
so you silenced her, ignored her big, teary eyes as you dismissed her for the thousandth time, pulled your hand away.
"thank you, petal," he said, so genuine and sweet, so exactly him. it seemed cruel that you still weren't used to him, to his kindness, that he was still evoking this kind of response from you.
your only solace was that he didn't seem to be finding it especially easy, either, if his flickering gaze or flexing hands were anything to go by.
"you're welcome," you replied. "headed home now?"
he hummed in affirmation, rocked back on his heels. "when will you be home?"
you could have sighed at just how domestic it all was, like some kind of sixties fantasy. honey, i'm home! echoed in your head.
but you shut that down as quickly as it appeared. "why?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, "expecting company, or something?" your mouth quirked. "maybe a girl?"
he paled, and you were surprised at your nerve, too. you didn't really know why you were doing this, why you would ask. you and jamie didn't have that kind of relationship, and why would you ask that anyway, when you knew for a fact one of the possible two answers would cut through you like a warm knife through butter?
thankfully, your coworker broke the tension with an exaggerated laugh, actually slapping the counter before looking up and clocking both of the confused looks turned her way. "oh," she said, looking between the two of you, "was that not a joke?" she nodded. "alright then, my bad."
jamie gave a short shake of his head as if mentally moving on. "no one's coming over," he said to you, "just wanted to know when i should make dinner."
in a cartoon, your heart would have beat out of your chest, through your shirt and folded apron. "i'll be back at seven," you told him. "i'll see you then?"
his smile warmed the room. "see you then, petal."
the bell rang, this time dreary and disappointed, as the door shut behind him.
your coworker immediately turned to you, eyes teasing and playful.
"if you're gonna say something, lovely, just say it," you prompted, taking out the closing checklist.
she was practically buzzing on her feet. "tell me you've given up on your no fraternizing with roommates rule," she begged, clasping her hands for emphasis. "tell me you realize how obvious you're both being."
you waved her off, shook your head. "the rule is there because it's important," you chided, "and there's no way he's into me like i'm into him." a line you had used about almost every guy you had liked, repeated so many times in your head it was practically a hymn.
she folded her arms in front of her chest, rolled her eyes. "when you're ready to come to terms with people finding you attractive and interesting and wonderful, as you are, let me know," she called out over her shoulder as she went on her smoke break.
her words stayed with you, though, because they were meaningful. it was hard for you, dreadfully so, to even fathom that someone could find you worthy of their time, their energy, their attention.
even when you were actively flirting with people, acting confident, like you were that first day when jamie walked into your coffee shop, it felt as false, as foreign, as theatrical as shakespeare in the park.
why was it so easy for you to give all of that to others, why did you want to give it to them so desperately? why did it feel like such an impossible ask for someone to give that to you?
her words were burrowing in the back of your mind as you locked the front door of your apartment behind you, breathed in a delicious smell, maybe rosemary? thyme?
you let yourself drift into the kitchen, were met with a freshly showered jamie in pajama pants and an old ohl t-shirt. he stood over the stovetop, humming something, before turning and meeting your eyes, sending a spark flickering through your veins.
"welcome home, petal," he said, his full lips quirking up in that gentle smile you had come to crave.
"long time no see," you teased, knowing it had been only a couple of hours.
his gaze was full of something heavy when he tilted his head, heaped some pasta onto two plates. "felt long," he admitted, "the house is so weird without you here."
your stomach flipped. he couldn't just say things like that, you decided, if he didn't expect you to melt completely, a puddle of pink glitter glue on the hardwood floor.
"weird how?" you asked, hating yourself for pushing.
your mother's voice was jarring, harsh in your head. don't fish for compliments, she always said, it's vain.
now that you were older, you wanted a chance to respond to her. is it fishing for compliments if you never get any? if all you ever hear is how you could do better? you took a breath. is it so wrong to want to hear something good?
jamie didn't appear to think you were being vain, anyways. "weird like quiet," he said, gentle and soft, "i don't know, honestly, just different. it's better when you're here."
you couldn't help but blush at his words, even though you had asked for them. the mother in your head scoffed.
you smiled at him, so genuine you could feel your eyes crinkle at the corners. "i think it's better when you're here, too," you said, low and loaded like a secret.
suddenly the air between you grew thick and heavy, simmering with something the reason in you knew better than to identify. you held each other's gazes for a moment, almost begging, daring the other to do something.
you had never been the kind of person to pick dare during sleepover games, always felt truth was the safer bet. now, there was nothing safe about the truth, either. you cleared your throat, fidgeted with your fingers, dropped your gaze and asked him about practice, what he made for dinner.
do you think about me like i think about you? you wanted to ask him. have you ever wanted me to just hold you after a long day? have you ever thought about what my lips would feel like on your neck?
you shivered, pushed the thoughts away as you ate dinner together, tried to lean into the privilege of spending time with him, even if you wished for something more.
can't this be enough? you pleaded. why isn't this enough?
the words of your routine spun around the two of you like a whirlpool. work, skate, game, lift, dinner, road trip, copywriting. the words of your combined schedules swirled around your head.
better those that the other words, always lurking around the two of you like childhood monsters under a bed: eyes, heat, lips, sweet, gentle, soft, shoulders, arms.
you must have zoned out, because he waved a hand once in front of your face. "petal?"
you shook yourself out of your trance-like state. "sorry," you said, already feeling the familiar flush of embarrassment.
he fixed you with a look. "for what?" he asked, less confused, more curious.
you closed your eyes for a second, took a deep breath. why was he making you explain this? "i mean, i was probably staring at you, right?" you said, feeling the shame of it prick you on the fingers like a thousand needles.
his gaze dropped to your mouth for a millisecond before meeting your eyes again. there was a silence, and when he spoke again, his voice was husky. "you can stare at me all you want, petal."
you could have whimpered, could have screamed. don't say things like that to me, you wanted to tell him. tell me things like that every second until i die, you also wanted to say.
"really?" you whispered, too starry-eyed to cringe at yourself. your food lay forgotten in front of you. how many times had you eaten dinner together, just like this? how many times had you pushed this feeling away? was it possible that he was doing just the same?
he hummed, ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, a self-satisfied move from him you have never really seen before. you rubbed your crossed ankles together.
you took a breath, a last beat of courage, before reaching across the counter and brushing his hair from out of his eyes. his skin scorched your fingertips, his eyes made your breathing slow and shallow. "you can stare at me, too," you said to him, pulling your arm back.
his eyes were full of understanding. "i know," he told you. "i do."
that knowledge was still haunting you days later. that he noticed you, registered your presence, like you did him. how could you ever act normally again, knowing this? how could you ever act without the constant weight of him around?
so you did the only thing you could think of - you ignored him, avoided him, hoped to skillfully evade his careful gaze, however much it hurt you not to see him, to talk with him, to ask him how practices and games went.
such a task became impossible when the bell clinked cheerily, the following weekend, signifying you and the coffee shop of the arrival of its favorite patron.
you looked up, halfway surprised to see him enter with another person, too, a teammate you had met, you were sure of it, but one you couldn't quite recall the name of. the two of them approached the counter in a shroud of laughter and easiness.
apparently, your coworker recognized the friend, too, because upon their approach she began a slow, sarcastic applause. "gentlemen," she said, "allow me to congratulate you on a recording breaking game last night."
jamie and his friend shared a look. "um," jamie began, careful, "we lost last night."
"oh," your coworker finished an order and set it on the pick-up counter. "i should have clarified. the record was for laziest defensive performance i've ever witnessed." she gave them a quick thumbs up. "congrats again! know you guys have been working real hard for this one."
jamie shook his head lightheartedly before locking eyes with you, smiling slightly. you hadn't really spoken since the other night, but you still didn't really know what to say. you didn't know where you stood, what lines were still drawn.
thankfully, your coworker refused to drop it, not leaving any opportunity for silence, now speaking directly to the newcomer. "i'm so happy you're here, 11," she continued. "you know that you're allowed in your own defensive zone, right? feel free to cross the red line, i think you'll find that defense makes winning a lot easier."
the object of your coworkers jabs turned to jamie. "am i supposed to take this?"
jamie shrugged. "i usually do."
she waved him off. "yeah, but you're hoping i'll put in a good word with your roommate." you blushed at her words, hope sparking at the possibility of them being true.
jamie didn't drop your gaze. "yeah, and how far is that getting me? you gonna put in a good word?"
every fiber of your being told you not to take his words at face value. every fiber of your being wanted to.
she scoffed. "yeah, right. if anything i'd just say you're a pushover."
the newcomer scrunched up his expressive face. "well, in that case, why don't you keep your thoughtful advice to yourself?"
she tilted her head back and laughed. "what, 11, can't take a little feedback?" she pouted, false pity all over her face. "guess you're every bit the flashy bust they say you are."
"no one is saying that!" he fumed, "literally name one person who is saying that!"
you and your roommate stifled your laughter as their argument grew.
you made him his drink, handed it over. his face was gentle, soft as took the cup from you. "you're avoiding me," he said, not accusatory, a simple observation.
you couldn't lie to him and say you weren't, so you only stayed quiet.
"i miss you," he said, so simple and genuine in its honesty that you could have cried.
"i miss you, too," you said, easy as an exhale.
his gaze glimmered. "so watch a movie with me tonight, yeah?"
your mouth twitched, because you wanted to, so badly, but you didn't know if you could trust yourself.
he shifted back and forth on his heels. the sun dripped so languishingly over his brow, down his jaw and neck. "please?" he asked, and you were done.
"okay," you conceded, butterflies already fluttering to life in your stomach at the thought of spending tonight with him on the couch.
a thud and a grunt shook you both from your conversation as you turned to your respective friends. your coworker appeared to be throwing bags of coffee beans at jamie's teammate. "can't hide behind a ref now, can you?" she taunted the lanky newcomer, who struggled to catch the bags.
"this is the behavior of a deranged fan," he pointed out, placing the bags back on the counter. "i hope you realize that."
"you wish i was a fan of yours," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "on an unrelated note, can i take a video of you wishing my little brother good luck on his math test tomorrow?"
the video was filmed, reluctant thanks and apologies were given and accepted.
"i apologize for the physical assault, but not the truth, 11," your coworker conceded, "and you're only getting any apology at all because this is going to mean the world to my brother."
"can't you just apologize normally?" you pushed, looking to make the rest of the patrons more comfortable, the energy less combative.
"tell you what," she said to him, "if you put in some effort next game to something besides michigans and between-the-legs shots, i'll give you the best apology you've ever seen."
jamie hissed. "he's gonna take that in a way you won't like."
his teammate leveled your coworker with a smirk. "do i get to pick how you apologize?"
she scoffed, an angry flush all over her face. "no, you don't get to pick! what the hell is the matter with you?"
you and jamie shared a look at their bickering. see you at home, petal, he mouthed to you on the way out, argumentative words still saturating the air.
bye, jamie, you mouthed back with a wave.
when you got back from work, called out your greeting, settled in, and changed out of your uniform, you found him on the couch, were all too happy to join him, however off limits it felt.
he felt off limits, like this, all messy hair and eyes tired with the day, worn-in sweatpants and sweatshirts from junior hockey and lazy stretches that revealed slivers of skin.
you lifted up a blanket, pulled your knees to your chest underneath it, avoided his gaze. "your friend's a character, hm?" you started.
he shifted his posture to get a better look at you, even though he was now faced halfway away from the movie he was in the middle of. "who, trevor?" he gave a playful roll of his eyes. "ignore him. he thinks your friend's hot and doesn't know what to do about it."
"that's him flirting?" you said, eyes wide, words spoken slowly for emphasis. "good grief, his act needs some work."
jamie's smile slanted into something dangerous. "what, wouldn't work on you, petal?" suddenly the blanket over you seemed like entirely not enough coverage. you felt completely exposed as you gave a slight shake of your head. he draped a heavy arm along the back of the couch. "no?" he paused, forced you to meet his magnetic gaze as he ran a hand through his hair. "what would work on you, then?"
you searched his eyes for a drop of humor, of teasing, of something that would hurt you, as you had long ago trained yourself to. you could sniff out potential abandonment, embarrassment like a bloodhound. but you came up empty, with him.
what could you say to him? that anything that he does, anything he could ever do, that's what would work on you? that he works on you?
your careful silence could have been a banshee scream into an open expanse as the air between the two of you again adopted that rolling flame, that lick of heat up your bare legs.
your eyes widened as he tugged your feet and calves into his laps with one hand, gently but firmly, just enough so that you could feel the warmth from his thick quads pooling in the backs of your knees.
just close enough to want more. just close enough to know you shouldn't.
"'m picky," you said, almost out of breath, swallowing your uneasiness down until the only thing you felt was him. "not into the interest disguised as insults."
he hummed as if he understood, ran his fingers over your shins, feather-light, so much so that later you would wonder if you had only imagined he had touched you. "so what?" he said, meeting your eyes in the dim light you had long ago deemed especially dangerous. "like to be called pretty, petal? like it when they make it, so, so easy for you?" his fingers dragged across your ankle in an electrifying way that had you forgetting about your promise. "like when they go slow?"
you let out some kind of strangled sound, halfway between a nervous laugh and a whimper. because you did like all of those things, of course you did. you liked proof that people cared about you, how could you not?
you couldn't even dwell on how delicious the word pretty sounded in his mouth, how much you wanted to taste it, because something else in his wording willed confidence into your body, clarity into your head in place of guilt.
"who's they?" you asked, your voice steadier than it had been in weeks.
"hm?" he asked, rough.
"i said," you repeated, shifting your body until you rested on top of his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. "who's they?" you were closer than you had ever been as you felt him underneath you, almost chest to chest. so close you could feel his breathing stutter against you. you brushed his messy hair from his face until you could see his eyes in all of their gorgeous truth. "i don't care much about them, jamie."
something rumbled in him, something you felt in your bones. he looked so, so beautiful, and his mouth was right there, and was he tilting his head closer to you? and-
"jim! when the hell are you gonna give me back my blender?" your door swinging open and shut might as well have been a strike of lightning as you scrambled away from each other. trevor's voice cut through your apartment like thunder, like a cold shower.
in a moment he appeared in the doorframe, suddenly eyeing the two of you with the suspicion only a best friend could muster. he gestured between the two of you, now comically far apart on opposite sides of the couch.
"what's going on here?" he asked.
jamie tilted his head back again, wiped at his face with both hands. "sure, yeah, come on in," he said to trevor through his fingers.
"how did you get in here?" you asked, you voice still dark with want, the aftermath of confidence still lacing your tone.
"key," trevor said, waving you off as if this piece of information wasn't relevant. "why?" he looked between the two of you again, eyes narrowed. "'m i interrupting something?"
silence followed. you didn't look at jamie, and he didn't clarify. "no," you said finally, not angry, but knowing the moment was over. "i guess not."
and so you pulled yourself up, made your way back to your room, every inch of your skin buzzing, every heartbeat a burst of electricity through your body.
voices grew fainter as you neared your door.
"if you'd just give me back my blender this wouldn't be such a problem," trevor hissed.
"and you couldn't've shot me a text? figured you'd just break in to my house?" jamie's voice was resigned. you knew he could never stay mad at his friend.
"it's not breaking in if you gave me a key, scumbag."
you shut your door behind you and collapsed onto your bed, still feeling the phantom of his body underneath you, the ghost of his fingertips digging into your hips. you groaned into a pillow, hating that when you closed your eyes all you saw was his full, pink mouth.
the next day, when you relayed all of this new, and not so new information to your friend at work, she shook her head slowly.
"i don't know," she said, pouring a double shot over ice, "but it sounds like you've either gotta make this thing serious or check out your other options." she shot you a look. "no more of this pining bullshit."
you whacked her with a rag playfully, but sighed. "i can't make it serious. and i don't have other options, so looks like pining's all i got."
"tell me you're kidding." she glared at you. "i've had like three friends just in the past week come in and text me after asking if you're single."
you scrunched up your face. "no, you haven't," you said, knowing there's no way that could be true.
"callin' me a liar?" she prompted, pulling out her phone with her free hand and scrolling until she found one of the texts, facing it to you.
sure enough, there was a message from some guy, some ordinary name, asking if she'd set him up with the "smoke in the canada hat," referring to the hat you had borrowed of jamie's earlier this week.
"whatever," you said, "it doesn't really matter."
"it does matter." your friend set the drink down on the pickup counter and turned to meet your gaze entirely. "it matters to me that you find it so hard to believe that people are into you." she grasped for one of your hands, held it firmly.
her touch was welcome, and so were her words. because honestly, you knew why you found it so hard to believe. because even though you had a pretty good relationship with yourself, even though you knew now that you were beautiful, and smart, and funny, and kind, when you were young, you didn't know that. when you were young, the people you were closest to were basically telling you that you weren't those things.
flashes of tense family dinners, long car rides during which you were the butt of every joke shot across your mind like meteors, just as destructive.
saw you talking to a boy today during lunch, one of your older siblings would say after a long day, maybe middle school, maybe sophomore year. is he your boy-friend? the words slow and taunting, malicious, immediately making an angry, embarrassed flush break out across your face.
don't be ridiculous, peanut, your mother would scold your sibling from the front seat, it's rude. and it's not like she was wrong, the boy you had been talking to wasn't your boyfriend, but it stung like a wasp nonetheless.
why is it ridiculous? you wanted to ask, tears brimming, hot behind your eyes. would that really be so hard to believe?
or countless calls with your parents during your first year of college, each more demeaning than the last. you know you're allowed to date, right? your mother might say. you know we aren't strict about that kind of thing. you held back a bitter and sarcastic congratulations.
i know, you would say, trying to hide the defeat you felt at the disappointed sigh she had done such a poor job of hiding.
every not-so subtle jab landed deep, until even the words put yourself out there induced a physical reaction.
it hurt to think about allowing yourself to want, to be wanted, because what if they laughed in your face? what if it all really was ridiculous, all this time? what if it really was hard to believe?
you sighed, now, squeezed your coworker's hand.
"how about this," she proposed, her eyes as soft as you had ever seen them. "how about i set you up with one of my friends who's interested, just one date, and we see how it goes? no pressure, and i'll make sure he knows it's no pressure. think of it like practice."
you thought for a moment, bit your lip. you could use a stress-free practice, that much was true, and you trusted this friend to not set you up with a sleaze-ball. and, you confessed, if you wanted to fizzle out whatever was going on with your roommate, this would probably be a good start.
so you agreed. the decision was made easier by the fact that jamie was on the road this week, so you didn't have him to distract you. the day of your dinner date ended up being the day he was set to return, but he wasn't supposed to get back until the middle of the night.
you wouldn't have to explain yourself to anyone, or even tell anyone how it went, if you didn't want to, you reminded yourself. just practice, no pressure.
and the guy was really sweet, honestly. he was good-looking, too, if not a bit more lanky, taller than the guys you usually went for. he asked you questions, and seemed to care about the answers, and you found yourself in a full conversation with him pretty easily.
but then something in your mind would catch on his shoulders and think not big enough to sink your teeth into, and then on his mouth and think he'd never call you petal, and then on his cheeks, which didn't blush the whole night, not even once.
and he was a really nice guy, but you found yourself wanting to invite him to join your friend group's book club, not invite him back to your place. you found yourself thinking quite intently about a certain person who was not, in fact, the man sitting across from you at the table.
which was fine, you realized, because this is practice, and he doesn't have to be the one. practice means you can find a friend.
so, with a smile, a shared admission that you would like to get to know each others as friends, and a promise to send him the address to the next book club meeting, you left your first date in forever feeling proud of yourself.
on your way back into your apartment, you sent your friend from work a thank you text before making your way to your room and changing into something more comfortable.
you settled on sleep shorts and an old t-shirt before heading to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, breathing in the smell of steeping chamomile when a sound behind you made you jump.
thankfully you would recognize that frame anywhere. you exhaled. "jesus, jamie," you breathed, "thought you wouldn't be back 'til later."
he stepped forward, the light so dark and dim and dangerous, especially after not seeing him all week. the slope of his high cheekbones, the sharp cut of his jaw, the deep pooling of feeling in his eyes. it all rushed at you a million miles an hour and stole your breath.
"got in early," he explained, his gaze ever so slow down your figure, like he was mapping it, committing it to memory. "were you out?" he asked, his voice suddenly rough.
you swallowed, thinking about what to say. a pause settled between the two of you, thick like mud, decadent like chocolate pudding.
i missed you, you wanted to tell him. tell me you missed me, too.
he inched closer still, leaned against the kitchen counter as you busied yourself with stirring your tea with the tea bag. "don't wanna tell me?" he mused. "how could that be, petal?"
you didn't meet his eyes, suddenly feeling childish. "went on a date."
you were both silent, for a moment. you looked up to check if he was still there. "and why didn't you wanna tell me?" his voice was gravelly.
your hands were shaking, you realized, so you set down your mug, crossed your arms against your chest with a sigh. "he was nice," you admitted, didn't quite miss the green flame that sparked across his gaze, blinked out in a moment. "but i was distracted." you looked down at your feet.
then he was right in front of you, a step apart. it had been so long since you had been so close, and the memory of what had happed that last time burned between the two of you, unspoken, yet the most obvious fixture in the room.
you looked up to meet his curious, careful gaze, wanted so badly to lean forward, sink into his broad chest, breathe him in and never stop.
"by what, petal?" he asked, so close you could practically feel the words on your own lips, his tone so low and heavy your stomach dropped.
you swallowed, watched his eyes track the movement. "you," you said simply, honestly.
and then his eyes searched yours for a single telling moment before his hands came to cup your face, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that held a million i missed you, i missed you, i missed you's.
you let out some soft noise into his mouth at the lovely pressure of his lips against yours, so firm and knowing. you pressed yourself so closely against his chest, one hand on his collarbone, the other grasping around his neck.
he leaned forward into you so pleasantly before moving his arms down to lift you by the waist, setting you down gently on the top of the counter, moaning when you fixed your hands in his hair.
you swallowed down his sounds like elixir, wanted every single one of them, as his wide hands kneaded at the flesh of your hips slowly. you raked your hands down the back of neck delicately, enough to relish in the shudder left in their wake.
finally, you both pulled away, only just, only enough to slow your heaving chests, enough to selfishly see the effect you both had on the other. matching glossed over gazes, swollen lips, exhales heavy with unspoken words.
you pushed some of his hair from his face, soft under your gentle fingers, could have swooned at how he was looking at you, right now. like there was no one else in the universe, like the stars existed only for you.
"i have to go home tomorrow," you said, suddenly, like a ridiculous idiot, wanting to shove the words back into your mouth as he traced light circles across the tops of your thigh. why did you say that?
but his expression didn't change. "i'll come," he said immediately.
your heart jumped, but you didn't want him to come and see your family, really, because family gatherings never were the most flattering, for you. "you don't have to," you said, "i know you're busy, and it's just for a little bit, just for the day."
"i'll come, petal," he repeated.
your mouth quirked, just a bit. "yeah?"
"yeah," he said, a drowsy smile slanting across his face. a smile you couldn't say no to, a smile you just had to feel against your lips.
a smile that meant, the following morning, you were standing on the front step of your childhood home next to jamie, who was holding a potted plant.
"you know you didn't need to bring anything," you said after you rang the doorbell, jittery with nerves. how long had it been?
he only pinched you lightly in the side. "swear i won't drop it this time, petal," he said with the easy tone that calmed your nerves, if only slightly.
and then the door was opening, and you were ushered in among a flurry of hugs and exclamations of it having been to long.
your older brother said you looked different, your mother said you needed to visit more often. you had the sinking feeling that coming home was a mistake.
then came the inevitable. "and who's this handsome young man?" your mother asked in a sugary sweet tone that made the room smell like the dentist's office, at least to you. "is this that friend from work you told me about a while ago?"
you opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it again, slightly confused, maybe disappointed? other people's parents assumed they were dating any person they spoke to, which you were sure was its own beast, but you had actually brought someone to a family meal and your mom thought he was your coworker?
"uh," you started, struggling to find your footing. "this is jamie."
you wanted to put your forehead through the tastefully muted wallpaper of the mudroom, but jamie only shook your father's hand, endured awkward hugs from your mother and siblings, handed over his plant with practiced grace.
you felt your hands tremble ever so slightly, willed them to still, begged any courage and confidence to show itself, but your chest was tight, like your lungs were filling up with polluted water.
jamie caught your eye, registered your defensive stance, gave you a look full of softness and acceptance before stepping to your side and pulling you in for a gentle side-hug, his embrace strong and sure in all the ways you were not. he pressed his lips to the top of your head, lips you still felt the memory of on your mouth, lips that sent a shiver of stability down your spine. "much better than last time, eh, petal?" he said, looking down at you, still tucked into his side. "no dirt under your nails, this time."
you couldn't help but give a slight shake of your head, squeezed him tighter in a way you hoped said thank you.
when you looked back up to your family, there was an almost comical look of surprise in your mother's eyes, a look of extreme boredom in your siblings'.
you father cleared his throat. "brunch's ready," he said, urging your mother to lead you all to the dining room.
jamie pulled out your chair for you, leaned forward to your ear when you sat down. "look so pretty today," he whispered, his voice a low rasp, only for you, only to help you settle, only because it was the truth.
"you know, jamie, she's never brought someone home before," your mother said at some point during the meal, like it was some kind of inside joke between the two of them, a joke you were not a part of. she shared some kind of look with him, but his face was blank. "honestly, we were starting to get worried." your father and her gave light laughs, laughs that made your stomach roll with anxiety, shame.
good god, couldn't they give you a break? you pushed your food around your plate, very much not hungry, very much wanting to leave.
jamie didn't laugh, though, didn't indulge them, didn't pretend like he was in on their joke. "worried about what?" he asked, his expression and tone entirely plain and curious, waiting patiently for elaboration that never came. his question was met with flickering glances between your parents, nervous laughter dying in their mouths.
you looked down at your plate again, bit your lip to hide your smile, reached under the table to squeeze his hand. he squeezed yours right back.
the rest of the meal was fine. soon enough, you were saying your goodbyes, doling out your own awkward hugs along with vague assurances that you would be back soon.
"and it was so wonderful to meet you, jamie," your mother said, a hand on his forearm, "know you're welcome here anytime."
you pushed aside the spark of jealousy within you. what would it be like to know that for yourself? to feel welcome in this home, whenever you wanted?
jamie just looked at you with that molten softness in his dark eyes. you pushed his hair from his face, the way you had grown accustomed to doing, more a comfort to you at this point. he leaned into your touch, however slightly.
"thank you for having me," he said, politely, before looking at you once more. "'m honored to be the first person petal's felt comfortable enough to bring home."
you could have melted at how genuine he sounded, at the idea that he was honored to be around you, of all things, at all.
when you were both in the car, you turned to him. "you didn't have to say that, you know," you told him as he pulled the car out of the driveway, started the trek home.
he just kept one hand on the wheel, took yours with the other. "wanted to," he said, glancing over at you with a steadiness that was impossible to deny. "meant it."
a smile came easily to your face, a flush came easier. he lifted your hand to his mouth, lightly pressed his lips to the top of it, making you shift in your seat with poorly hidden delight, perfectly warm all over.
you arrived back home, and fell back into your routine.
jamie dropped you off at work the following day, rolling his window down when you got out the passenger door. "petal!" he called.
you turned, that grin that seemed to be every-present around him on your face. "yeah?"
the faintest of blushes began to prick at his cheeks. "can i have a kiss, please?"
you were all too willing to comply, leaning against the side of the car and pulling his lips to yours with a gentle hand on his jaw. "see you later?" you murmured against his mouth, butterflies so alive in your stomach you half believed they would fly up your throat. he nodded, a little dazed, promised to see you after your shift, as he had the day off.
the lovely dizziness began to dull as soon as you entered the coffee shop, as there was a very unexpected guest behind the counter with your friend.
"have you never even heard of a latte?" your coworker seethed, the words hard and angry through her teeth.
"feel free to call this off at any time, sugar," a smug trevor drawled, wearing an apron and a haphazardly drawn name tag.
you set your things down and began to tie your own apron around yourself. "afternoon, lovely," you greeted your friend before looking at the newcomer. "trevor."
he nodded to you with a smile in a greeting of his own before the espresso machine started making a menacing sound.
you took the next customer's order, began to prepare it. "do i wanna know why you appear to be an employee today?"
"lost a bet," he said, looking at your coworker, who grimaced.
"we agreed that if he didn't block five shots against the hawks last week, he'd work a shift," she crossed her arms over her chest. "but already this is more of a punishment for me than for him."
he turned up his smile to the megawatts.
you shook your head with a laugh. "you know this is breaking, like, a billion laws," you said, pouring soy milk into a cup. "we can't just hire randoms to work a single shift."
trevor placed a fake-offended hand over his heart. "i'm not some random," he clarified.
"according to california law, you are," you said, matter-of-factly, finishing off the drink and placing it on the pickup counter.
"oh, whatever, 11, just go," your coworker said, exasperated, "you've already messed up like twelve times in the last two hours."
he pouted, teasing like a kindergarten bully, all grown up. "you wound me, sugar," he said, turning around slowly. "untie my apron for me?"
she took off her bucket hat and whacked him with it. "don't think i've forgiven you, either," she said, pointing a warning finger at him.
"wouldn't dream of it," he cooed, taking out him phone. "haven't i earned a drink for my troubles? jimmy won't be here for another five minutes."
you scrunched up your brow. "jamie?" you groaned for him, "wish you'd called it quits like two minutes earlier. he was just here."
both your coworker and trevor whipped their heads around. "jim dropped you off?"
you nodded. your coworker gave you an impressed grin, held her hand down low for trevor to slap in a high-five. "let's go," she said, pumping her fist.
you rolled your eyes at the two of them. "so the goon squad is working together, now?" you asked.
trevor rested his elbow on the top of your friend's head, making her hiss and bat his arm away. "best team around," he said, smugly, before looking at his phone. "time to go," he stated, accepting the two drinks you pushed into his hands with a thank you. "until next time, sugar," he said, looking at your friend.
"the red line won't hurt you unless you let it," she called out behind him.
you immediately started peppering her with questions about her bet with jamie's teammate, trying to get her to admit she didn't hate him as much as she let on.
"jamie says he just thinks you're hot and doesn't know what to do about it," you told her before she went out back for her break.
she fixed you with a look. "you can tell jamie that his friend better find out what to do about it." you laughed as the door shut behind her.
the rest of your shift went by terribly slowly. it wasn't that busy, and, honestly, you really missed jamie. you had only just found out what his lips felt like on your own, after all, and now you were having a hard time thinking about anything else. no one should feel this overheated, this distracted, while trying to steep peppermint tea and froth oat milk.
too many times, you lost yourself in daydreams about what his thighs felt like underneath you, how his fingers would feel like in your mouth, what his hand would feel like, gripping your hair.
you just wanted to be close to him, as close to him as possible.
by the time your coworker was dropping you off at your apartment, your mouth was practically dry with want, and if someone were to call you desperate, you weren't sure if you would have it in you to care.
you locked the door behind you, the silence in the kitchen and mudroom telling you he was probably in his own room, probably gaming.
you could have whined, thinking you would have to wait until he was done until you could kiss him, touch him, feel him how you wanted to.
you lasted pretty much as long as it took you to change into more comfortable clothes. undeniable want had you rapping your knuckles lightly against his door, exhaling gratefully when a soft come in wafted through the air.
and then the door was open, and he was there, exactly as you had thought him to be. his headset pushed his messy hair up in different directions, his knees spread wide, his posture relaxed.
he made eye contact with you, something warm shining in his gaze as he pushed his mic away from his mouth. "hey, petal," he rasped, his voice weary with use. "you're home."
you nodded, bit your lip, twisted the sole of your foot into the ground slowly. "know you're busy," you said, soft, almost bashful, "but can i just sit with you?" you swallowed down any shakiness. "couldn't stop thinking 'bout you at work."
you knew he wouldn't laugh at you, but were splendidly pleased anyways when he simply nodded, let that smile slant across his face, opened up his arms in invitation, contentment obvious in his expression.
you breathed out and crossed the room to where he sat, lowered yourself onto his lap as he spread his legs apart wider to make you more comfortable. you crossed your legs over his thigh, leaned back into his chest, let the warmth and feeling of him envelop you like a fog. his arms came to reach around you as he kept playing, fiddling with his controller. you could have fallen asleep here, if you weren't so alert, if every inch of your body didn't feel like it was slowly catching flame.
you hummed, shifted your hips back against him, making him let out a soft grunt. "getting comfortable?" he whispered, to which you nodded, smiled, leaned your head against his chest.
you tried to stay still, watch the screen as he played, but something about feeling his breaths against your back, the heat of him pooling in your neck, the firmness of him underneath you, it made you restless, impatient.
so much so that after maybe a few minutes, you were craning your head up to press your lips lightly to his jaw, his throat, just behind his ear, twisting your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.
he let out a groan, low and dangerous. "thought you just wanted to sit," he said, his mouth quirking up, a tightness to his voice that hadn't been there before.
"changed my mind," you mumbled into his shoulder, grazing your teeth over his deltoid.
"be patient, petal," he rumbled, "wait 'til 'm finished, hm?"
you pouted against his jaw, figured you had done months of waiting, if you counted back to that first day. more than your fair share. you were done being patient.
so, instead of waiting, like he had asked you to, you wordlessly pushed yourself from his chest, sank down to your knees into front of his chair, gently placed your palms on his thighs, forcing his attention to you.
his gaze settled on you like heavy sediment, scorching, bubbling. when he spoke, you felt it against your face like a caress. "fuck, petal, dreamt of you like this."
your smile was slight, sly. "what? on my knees for you, jamie?"
he gave an almost pained shake of his head, made some strained sound of refutation. he set his controller down and pulled off his headset, tossed it aside as you tugged at his sweatpants, rolled your hand over him, hard and hot.
he tilted his head back, groaned. "dreamt of you lookin' at me like this," he confessed, words thick with revelation, "like you want me."
something almost religious passed between you, because what was this, if not something worth worshipping? something built on devotion beyond logic, beyond better judgement?
"i do want you, jamie," you said, finality swimming in your heated tone, "i want you so, so bad."
you bit your lip to hide your grin when he whimpered at your words, his eyes screwing shut as you took him in your hand, spit onto his cock, pumped him up and down before running your tongue along the length of him, drinking in his sounds greedily.
he rooted his thick hand in your hair, draping it away from your face as you sunk your mouth down onto him. "fuck," he choked out, slow and strained, "fuck, petal, you can have me."
you moaned around him, grounded by his grip, the pleasant tug on your scalp, urged him to the back of your throat until your eyes began to water, until his thighs began to tense, before retreating again, peering up at him, eager to take every inch of him in, like this.
so unguarded and uncontrolled, knowing he was thinking only of you, pure want dripping down his frame and face like watercolor, this image of him made you acutely aware of just how wet you already were.
you tugged your hand up and down him again, grinned when he shuddered. "taste so good, jamie," you rasped, running your thumb along the tip, "'ve wanted your cock in my mouth for so long, baby."
his chest rose and fell as he moaned, desperate, overwhelmed. his thumb circled your jaw as you continued moving your hand, spitting onto him again. "should've told me, petal," he whined, "would've given you anything you wanted." his voice shook, you felt his muscles tense again as you took him in your mouth again. "waited so good for me, hm?"
you hummed, held him in your mouth, hollowed out your cheeks until tears broke your waterline, his grunts telling you he was close as you let your nails dig into the tops of his thighs.
"fuck, 'm gonna cum," he breathed, "feel so good like this, petal, too good, can't hold on." his grip in your hair tightened, his hips bucking up, hitting a deeper spot in your throat. he made to pull back, but you only moved your head with him, swallowing around him until you tasted him on your tongue, his moan resounding in your head like an organ in a cathedral.
only after he finished did you pull your mouth up off of him, tilted your head onto your elbow, which was resting on his thigh, red with marks from your clutching hands. you watched him come down from his high, watched his lashes flutter as his eyes opened, felt his grip loosen in your hair and his hand come down to rest under your chin, as gentle and affectionate a touch as you had ever felt.
he led your mouth to his, lifting you off of your knees, slanting his lips across yours like a smile before pulling away, looking at you for a moment, tracing your mouth with his thumb. "look so pretty like this, petal," he praised, low and steady, "so fuckin' perfect."
and you blushed, because you knew how you looked.
you knew that your face was flushed with exertion, knew that spit ran down onto your chin, knew that your lashes were clumped together with tears, knew that your lips with swollen and your neck shone with sweat.
he kissed the corner of your mouth anyways, looked at you like there had never been anything more beautiful. "let me taste you, hm?" he murmured against your skin.
you shivered with pleasure at his words, but whined. "need you so bad, jamie," you pleaded, "need you inside of me." you peered up at him through your lashes. "please?"
he shifted until you hovered above him, tugged your shorts aside, ran his fingers through your folds and cursed at how wet he found you. "anything you want, petal," he rasped, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking you off of them. "fuck, pretty girl, askin' me so nicely, hm?"
you nodded feverishly, reached under you to find him impossibly hard, again, before angling him to you and sinking down onto him, your knees on either side of his hips.
his head fell back at that first feeling, your mouth dropping open as your body pulled taut at the stretch. you whimpered when he reached behind you to pull you to his chest, changing the angle, while he shifted under you, both of you breathing heavy, searching for something to stop you from floating away.
you settled on letting your heavy head drop to his neck, letting shaky exhales escape past your teeth, melt into his collarbone like snowflakes on windowpanes.
he clutched at your waist, began to slowly move his hips, lifting you up and down in a rhythm that burned behind your eyes, that you felt on your tongue, in your toes.
"how do you feel like this?" he whispered, practically to himself, as if in a dream, as he kept up his pace, slow and brutal.
"like what, baby?" you breathed, picking your head up and beginning to fuck back onto him with more force, wanting to feel him harder, deeper.
"fuck," he whimpered, searching for an answer, his messy hair falling into his face, sticking to the gloss of sweat shining on his brow, "better than i imagined, petal. so perfect, made for me."
you moaned at his admission, reached around his neck for support. "been thinkin' 'bout me, jamie?" you asked, an almost cocky grin peeking through.
"so much," he whined, picking up his pace now, causing you to choke down a strangled moan, "fuck, petal, was worried you'd hear me through the walls."
his confession shot right to your core as you clenched around him, imagining him trying to keep quiet, touching himself, thinking of you. you dug your nails into the back of his neck as he laid a hand across your stomach, pressed down until he could feel the outline of himself inside of you, moving in and out.
the sensation was so intense that you had to shut your eyes, the pressure inside of you pulling so tightly you bit your tongue.
"like that, hm?" he said, only the faintest trace of smugness in his tone. "like that i thought of you with my hand around my cock, petal?"
you nodded, moaned your affirmation, felt yourself grow so deliciously close.
"thought of you, just like this," he breathed into your neck, still pushing at your stomach, hitting somewhere impossibly deep inside you, hard and fast. "squeezing me so perfect, making those pretty sounds for me."
"'m so close, jamie," you pleaded, your voice wrecked, your jaw aching, "please make me cum? need you so bad, been needin' you for so long."
his neck tensed under your palm as his thrusts grew sporadic, his breathing labored. "fuck, petal, cum on my cock, yeah?" his other hand gripped your hip so hard you knew it would leave a mark. "been such a good girl for me."
you came apart at his words, collapsing onto his chest, clenching down on him so completely that he reached another high, warm and absolute. he stilled, both of your chests rising and falling against each other. you ran your fingers soothingly over the back of his neck, he rubbed circles into the sides of your hips as if in a daze.
finally, when the fog cleared like falling rain, you pulled back to look at his face, flushed, long lashes framing heavy lids, his gaze thick and syrupy with affection.
you lightly swept the damp hair from his forehead, pressed a gentle kiss to his brow that made him smile up at you lazily.
he ran his thumb along your cheekbone. "wanna stay in my room, tonight?" he asked, cheekily, like you were kids planning a sleepover, scheming up the best way to ask your parents.
so you just nodded and laughed, and he kissed the laugh from your lips as if it tasted of sugar.
fin.
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nydascienceguy · 8 months
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army sergeant ony 🌴:. who came back from 8 long months of deployment, you making a big sign saying “welcome home ony! 🩷” with hearts all around and signed by loved ones and friends. you standing anxiously looking as all the military officers came from the entrance people cheering and people crying, you finally saw ony.
army sergeant ony 🌴:. as soon as he saw you running towards him crying hugging him as hard as you can laughing and kissing you all over your face as you did so back.
“hey maaa, i missed you sm. dont cry you finna make me cry.” he said the last part where he sadly whimpered hugging you tightly taking off his hat.
army sergeant ony 🌴:. who grew tremendously over those 8 months, he grew almost half a foot. and now he has a stud nose piercing complimenting his dark skin. his muscles grew too and his voice was a little lower. he made sure to look his best before seeing you getting a new cut and waves, oo! he could knock you off your feet 🩷.he looked down at you wiping your clear tears with his tatted smooth thumbs.
“c’mon ma, lets go home. imma make you feel better.”
army sergeant ony 🌴:. who entered the house, breathed in and breathed out looking around. it was a little different from before he left and he loved how you redesigned it. your guys wedding picture in a big frame now instead of a little one on a cabinet. and some new paintings matching the green aura colors surrounding the house.
army sergeant ony 🌴:. who could smell the cooking from the kitchen setting his big duffel bags down heading to the kitchen wrapping his hands around your waist as you finished up your chicken alfredo.
“babyy, i told you to sit down. you shouldn’t be standing.”
“im not no baby ma, i can handle myself.” he chuckled in your ear sending shivers down your spine. you finally finished placing the alfredo on the 2 plates complimenting it with adding homade garlic bread.
you placed the two placed by each of the chairs of the dinner table where you and ony sat. ony thanked you kissing you on the face then eating a bite of the garlic bread and pasta and his lit up. he ate like he never ate before.
army sergeant ony 🌴:. who told a bunch of stories of all the people he met in the country he was deployed in, almost fluent in their language. the culture shock and different foods he was served. he told you everything and you listened, you were admiring the way he spoke teaching you some words of that language.
army sergeant ony 🌴:. who saw a half bottle of red wine in the fridge when you were cleaning the dishes.
“maa, ik damn well you wasnt gon’ drink all this when i was gone!” he teased taking the bottle out of the fridge closing the door and grabbing wine glasses, you smiled finishing the last dish drying your hands.
“c’mon ma, you need a break too.” he said calmly leading you to the soft couch as you sat buy him as he poured the red wine in both of your guys glasses. as you both drank he looked at you worried.
“ma, are you ok? you’ve been real quiet ever since i got home.” he asked, you sighed putting the wine glass on the coffee table.
“i-, i just can’t believe your here. you’ve been gone for 8 months and i’ve been missing ever since and now that your here i just want you and see you without me interfering.” you explained.
he chuckled setting his glass down.
“ma, you what we can make up those 8 months for? it takes two people and you gotta interfere.” he says seductively taking off his army jacket to reveal a white skintight shirt underneath, your eyes widened to see how muscular he got ever since, bigger pecs, more veiny arms costumed with more tattoos.
“u down ma?” he asked coming closer to you, you nodded quickly.
“spread your legs. now”
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gonna leave yall on a cliffhanger toodles!! -ny ⭐️
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halfmoth-halfman · 1 year
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life's little comforts
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Medic!Reader Synopsis: Soap finally gets a better glimpse into your relationship with the Lieutenant- even if it's not the way he wants. Word Count: 3.9k Warnings: alcohol, smoking/cigarettes, torture, gore, blood, canon typical violence Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. part one. part two. part four.
It’s late in the day when Soap walks into your office.
He hadn’t planned on being here, but after literally running into you- he wasn’t paying attention, and you took a corner too quickly- you’d asked him to grab a file from your office and bring it to you in Price’s office. You didn’t give him the chance to decline- not that he would’ve- continuing down the hall with a quick thanks.
It feels a bit like breaking and entering, like sneaking into his parents’ room as a child when they weren’t home. It’s too quiet, the sound of boots against the vinyl plank echoing in his eardrums as he heads to your desk. It’s a stack of papers in a bright blue file; you can’t miss it, you’d told him. 
He can miss it, apparently, since the file seems to be absent from your desk. Your plethora of colorful office supplies sits neatly organized atop your desk alongside your phone, computer, and printer, but there’s not a single file in sight. There are stacks of papers on the filing cabinets- the doors of which, he discovers, are locked with no key in sight- behind your desk and an absurd amount of sticky notes covering the locked glass planes of the pill cabinets. His only other option is-
He doesn’t want to go through your desk. It feels silly but somehow he imagines the desk sitting in front of him to be an extension of you. If he peeks inside the drawers, will he find clues about what makes you, you? He can’t imagine you’ll be angrier about him going through your desk than not bringing you the file but still, he hesitates.
It takes him two minutes to talk himself into it, telling himself not to look at anything that doesn’t look work-related. 
It takes one minute for him to completely disregard that as he pulls open the bottom drawer and sees the thick black edges of a picture frame beneath the file he was sent to find. He pulls the file and the frame from the drawer, setting the file on your desk with no consideration as he examines the photo. Saying the picture is old is an understatement. Deep creases run down the center and across it- someone’s folded and unfolded it several times- with the edges frayed away to almost nothing. The image is faded to all hell, but Soap recognizes the two figures in it with ease.
You’re in a warehouse perched atop a stack of black military crates, putting you at eye level with Ghost, who stands leaning against the crates in the space next to you. Your hair is longer, left down and pushed back by a pair of sunglasses and you’re dressed in all black with a matching tac vest. Ghost is dressed similarly, all black and all tactical, but the familiar skull plate is replaced by a pair of black sunglasses resting over his painted balaclava. The two of you are facing each other, covered in dirt and grime and what is most likely blood, but you’re beaming up at Ghost like you’ve won the lottery, as he cradles your left hand in his gloveless hands, caught in the process of sliding a solid black ring onto your finger.
The words Ghost & Hornet are scrawled across the bottom in someone’s chicken scratch above a date that's been worn away. 
How long ago was this taken? Why is your callsign Hornet? What did you do before you became the 141 doctor? Who took this picture? If it wasn’t one of you who took it, then who gave it to you? Questions swirl around Soap’s head as he stares down at the picture in his hands. 
“Did you grab that folder?”
Soap drops the frame back into the drawer, kicking it shut with lightning speed as the door swings open and you peek your head inside. 
“Got it right here!” You barely take a step inside your office before he’s meeting you at the door, shoving the file into your hands. “Need anything else?”
“No, that was it,” you smile up at him- a small imitation of that same beaming smile in the picture- taking the file. “Thanks for grabbing it for me.”
“Of course, Doc.” Soap follows you out of your office and the infirmary, watching you continue down the hall before he splits off toward the barracks. 
He respects you and Ghost, respects your privacy, but all the clues and all the hints have piled up into a perfect little mystery waiting to be solved. 
What’s the saying: curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.
-
Three weeks turns to six weeks turns to nine weeks turns to twelve.
If Soap never has to see the glittering crystal white of snowfall again, he’ll be glad for it. The mission wasn’t supposed to take this long but, as all missions that take place in the ass end of nowhere seem to do, something went wrong and the team is stuck in the Narsaq mountains. 
Everything was fine after the first delay; the team was frustrated but optimistic for the most part. After the second delay, there were small cases of worry and bickering but everyone was able to stay on track. Things go downhill at the start of month three and by the end of the fourth month, it’s a miracle that any of them are speaking to each other.
Soap drags his feet up the stairs to the base rooftop where Ghost is on watch. He assumes you’re there too; Price had sent you to relieve the Lieutenant not ten minutes ago before deciding two pairs of eyes were better than one and sending Soap up after you. You weren’t happy about it- your hatred of the cold stronger than anyone else’s- and you’d frowned at Price’s orders, stomping your feet the entire way out of the room. Soap could see the irritation rolling off of Price in waves before the Captain uncharacteristically snaps at him to follow you and send Ghost back down.
The rooftop door is held open by a rock, letting the soft flurries of snow drift inside and coat the top four steps. Soap takes those steps carefully, not trusting the rusted railing and the way it grates and shrieks whenever someone leans on it. Bracing himself for the cold, he tucks himself further into his heavy jacket, stepping onto the rooftop and into the ankle-deep snow. He turns to the right and comes to an immediate standstill when he spots you and Ghost. 
You’re both leaning against the broken a/c unit, staring out into the endless white of the mountain range. Ghost’s mask is pushed up to his nose as the two of you pass a cigarette back and forth but he’s shed his jacket, leaving him in a thermal long-sleeved shirt. There’s no mystery as to where the jacket went; you’re happily drowning in the oversized garment, snuggling into the fabric every time you pass the cigarette back to Ghost.
Soap creeps back to the staircase, stepping softly to avoid the crunch of the snow. He peeks outside again, catching you as you watch Ghost take a long drag from the cigarette. He holds the cigarette out to you, keeping his eyes forward; a perfect distraction as you lean forward and press a kiss to the sliver of skin on his wrist peeking out between his glove and shirt sleeve. You pluck the cigarette from his hand, looking back out over the snowcaps with a playful smile- the first smile Soap’s seen on your face in weeks. Ghost shakes his head, pinching your ear when you turn away from him but it’s obvious the way the tension eases from his shoulders. 
Soap chuckles to himself, moving back down the staircase to take a seat at the bottom of the steps as he decides Price can wait a few more minutes.
-
Rough missions are par for the course for the 141, everyone knows it. 
Everyone has their own way of coping, their own personal rituals for decompressing. Before you had joined, Soap had no idea what Ghost did after a particularly hard mission. Staying true to his namesake, the man would simply vanish, appearing hours, sometimes days, later without a word. 
He never explained, and no one ever asked.
It’s still true now, though everyone knows if they really need his whereabouts they can ask you; whether or not you’ll tell them is a different story.
But then there are the missions that stick- the missions where the blood sinks into the skin and stains the bones red. Where dying faces are burned into the backs of their eyelids and imprinted in the parts of the brain that will last long after everything else has faded. Where the chorus of bullets and death rattles drown out all other sounds long after the fight has ended.
Ghost doesn’t bother with pretense after those missions. Instead, he beelines to the infirmary, disappearing into your office where you allow him to stay, keeping the door locked unless you- and only you- need to get something. 
Soap gets it- he’s probably one of the few who do- which is why he does his best to keep his distance from you and your office unless it’s an emergency. 
It’s late when he passes by the infirmary. Exhausted and sore, he shuffles towards his room on his way back from the fitness center- his own way of coping- passing by the infirmary doors. It looks mostly empty, the only light coming through the glass on your office door, and he thinks for a brief moment that he should check on you and ask after Ghost. 
He makes it to your door, taking note of the shade that’s drawn halfway up. He bends slightly to get a clearer view inside, the lamp on your desk the only dim source of light in the room. Ghost sits in one of the chairs in front of your desk with the entirety of his body weight leaning forward against you as you stand between his legs. His head is down, pressed against your stomach and his hands grip tightly onto your hips. 
Soap doesn’t need more light to see the tension wound up in Ghost, the weight of the mission bearing down on his bowed back.
You, on the other hand, are the embodiment of peace, supporting the weight pressed against you, hands running over Ghost’s shoulders and kneading into the tight muscle. Your fingers dip just under the collar of his shirt, skirting across the edges of his mask and you bend your head slightly. Soap can see your mouth moving and Ghost nods to whatever you ask him. 
You gather the bottom of the balaclava in your hands, pushing it up just enough to get your hands underneath and around the base of his skull where you continue kneading into his skin. Ghost melts into you, pressing himself as far into you as he physically can. 
You say something else and Ghost leans his head up to look at you just as you lean down and-
Soap steps back from the window, turning in his heel to head straight out of the infirmary with the affirming knowledge that you’ll both be okay.
-
There was a healthy mix of excitement and apprehension when Price told them they were teaming up with another task force. Guesses were thrown out over who this new team would be, what they’d be like, who’d be the better shot-
(“There’s no way they’ll be a better shot than me!”
“Everyone’s a better shot than you, Johnny.”
“…that hurts, Lt.”)
You don’t take part, letting the team speculate without adding anything yourself. Soap and Gaz try to get your input, teasing you until they think you’ll relent but they get nothing out of you.
Two weeks later, they’re gathered in the briefing room when the doors burst open, followed by the thundering of boots as three strangers in solid black tactical gear swarm you. Soap is on his feet in seconds as the largest one grabs you by the waist to swing you around and you…laugh?
You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? What’s going-
“At ease, Sergeant,” Price laughs, entering behind the boisterous group alongside an unfamiliar woman. The three strangers set you down, the smallest one looping an arm around your shoulders while the man who had picked you up claps Ghost on the shoulder with a wide smile. 
“Missed us, Casper?” 
“Like a knife in the gut,” Ghost deadpans.
It takes a minute for things to settle before Price makes introductions: Sergeant Theodore “Grizzly” Lin, Sergeant Charlotte “Firefly” Bishop, Sergeant Kenneth “Trip” Hale and Captain Juliana Owens. 
Your former team. 
Soap has so many questions, so many things he needs to know, but he doesn’t get the chance after introductions are made as Price and Captain Owens call the room to attention.
The mission sounds simple: your team has the locations of several hidden terrorist cells and will infiltrate and wipe them out with the 141’s help. It’s nothing either team hasn’t done before, but the additional manpower will help to get this done before the enemy decides to move house.
They mesh well with the 141, blending in almost seamlessly on base.
On the field is an entirely different story. 
The 141 works well together, Soap knows that, but your team is on an entirely different level. They operate like a single person, moving with and covering each other without a word- like they were trained to protect each other from birth. Soap isn’t sure what’s more unsettling: the ease with which they hunt down their enemies or how effortlessly you slip into your role alongside them. He knew you could handle yourself, but after watching expertly slice through the jugular of a close-range enemy before twisting your hands around their neck to force the blood from their artery out through your fingers, he realizes how deeply the team has underestimated you.
And if he’s a little scared of you after that mission, he’ll never tell. 
For the three months that your former team occupies the 141 base, Soap takes every opportunity to speak with your old teammates. He gets the most information out of Grizzly; the man is more than eager to brag about your abilities. Trip and Firefly offer occasional information if he asks, but it’s usually too vague for Soap to understand- like some kind of inside joke he’s only partially in on.
He gets a few tidbits from you: Theodore is as cuddly as a teddy but fights like he’s trying to maul his enemies, Charlotte- Charlie, she prefers- is a former fighter pilot with an allegedly long history with arson, and Kent is a mastermind when it comes to trip mines despite being clumsier than a newborn deer. He gets a couple of old mission stories from you too, nothing too detailed, some including Ghost, and all suspiciously absent of your involvement.
 He asks Grizzly one day during a rare moment of downtime when you’re too occupied in your office to stop him-
(“What’s the story with the Doc?”
“Who? Hornet?”
“Why Hornet?”
“You ever seen a hornet in a beehive?”
Soap hasn’t. And judging by the feral smile that splits Grizzly’s face in two, he doesn’t want to.)
The teams go out to celebrate once the mission wraps up. It’s a long night filled with too much alcohol and too little supervision that ends at a run-down bar occupied only by both teams and the bartender. Soap taps out after losing the third round of billiards- even with Grizzly and Trip on his team, Gaz and Firefly still manage to wipe the floor with them every time- heading to the bar to get another beer.
“Cleaning crew cleared out the apartment. Said it looked like a random break-in, but we’re assigning you a new safehouse just to be sure.” Soap’s ears twitch as he hears Captain Owens speak. He glances to his right where you and Ghost sit at a table across from Price and Owens looking too serious for the occasion.
“What about the house?” you ask, folding your arms over your chest.
“No activity, but I’ve got eyes on it,” Owens sighs. 
“You can take some time if you wanna check it out for yourselves,” Price suggests. You and Ghost share a brief look, an entire conversation passed between glances.
“Maybe another time,” you answer with a casual shrug.
“I swear, I’ve never met a couple more averse to spending time together at home than the two of you-” Owens shakes her head, turning to Price with a teasing grin. “You lettin’ my kids have too much fun on your base, John?”
Soap nearly chokes on his beer as you groan, scraping your hands down your face, and Ghost rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t roll back into his head.
Your former Captain knows- that makes sense if he thinks about it- but Price… Soap clearly remembers Price denying any knowledge of your and Ghost’s relationship. If he knew, if it was meant to be a secret, then why give him hints?
Soap is desperate to know more, the alcohol spurring him on as he gathers the questions in his head sorting them by level of importance so he’ll know which to ask first come tomorrow. 
He doesn’t get the chance, as the team departs first thing without a word of goodbye and Price calls everyone in for a new mission.
-
Soap has seen his share of gruesome things, but this is-
They’re gathered around the small monitor, unable to tear their eyes from the screen. The video had been sent to Price with no name attached to it. It’s grainy, most likely recorded on an older camera but the audio…the audio is crystal clear.
And the way your screams echo through the room will haunt them for the rest of their days.
It was an accident. Through pure shitty luck, the team had been separated, then separated again, and once more until everyone was on their own trying to retrieve intel from an empty base that turned out to not be so empty. The intel was retrieved and their opponents made an uncharacteristically hasty exit. It isn’t until exfil arrives and you don’t that they realize what’s happened.
Now, after two months of agonizing silence, they get this.
You’re strapped to a metal chair, beaten and bloody, when one of your captors yanks your head up by your hair. He growls something at you in muffled Russian and when you answer him with silence, he spits in your face. You meet his taunting gaze with a severe glare and the man laughs, letting go of you to call someone else over.
He steps in front of the camera, blocking any view of you, but there’s still a clear view of one of his men approaching you with a cattle prod. The man speaks directly to the camera- directly to the 141- his voice almost drowned out by the buzz of the prod and the scream you let out. 
The video ends there, fading into jumbled static before starting over again.
“It’s proof of life,” Price sighs, shutting the monitor off. “They’re offering a trade. Intel for the doctor.”
“Can we trace it?” Gaz asks. 
“Laswell’s working on it.”
The room falls into silence and Soap can’t help but look at Ghost. He appears calm, standing still with his gaze focused on the monitor, but Soap knows better. There’s nothing in those eyes, Ghost’s mind completely vacant, an empty shell of a man stuck standing before them. With nothing more to add, Ghost turns, walking out of the room without a word- a true statement to his name.
He’s been like this since you disappeared- disassociating so hard he might as well have been taken with you. He broke out of it once, when Gaz suggested changing your status from MIA to KIA. 
Gaz’s black eye took almost three weeks to heal and Ghost vanished from the base until it did, returning without an apology and a tension that followed him into every room. 
It takes another agonizing week before Laswell comes back with anything, but she delivers more than enough information. Price is barely off the phone with her when the team is gearing up to go and find you.
And, oh, when they find you-
Soap isn’t sure there’s a need for the entire team as Ghost tears a warpath through their enemies. There’s no words, no mercy, no stopping as he cuts down person after person after person. He’s coated in gore and viscera, thick crimson a stark contrast to the bone white of his mask, hands dripping with enemy blood- an angel of death coming to collect. 
Soap finds you first while clearing a room as Ghost bludgeons one of the guards to death in the hallway.
You’re huddled in a corner of the cell, leaning against the grimy wall curled in on yourself. Soap lowers his gun, approaching cautiously as though you’re a wild animal, speaking softly, “Doc?”
Soap jumps back as you lunge for him, swinging what looks to be a piece of broken glass. He can feel the sharp sting as you catch his arm, taking several steps back until he’s almost out the door. You move back, pressing yourself against the wall with your hands up; your fingers so tightly squeezed around the shard in your hand, Soap can see the fresh blood sliding down your palm. 
“Easy, easy,” he coaxes, hands up, palms facing out as he calls back over his shoulder. “Ghost!”
The man materializes out of thin air, nudging Soap out of the way as he takes in the scene before him. You look like hell, dressed down in a torn shirt and pants with one eye swollen shut and covered in so much dried blood that they can’t tell where your injuries are. 
Slowly, Ghost takes a step into the cell.
“Don’t!” you yell, voice hoarse. “Nor- Norilsk, six years ago. We were…we were on a mission and one of our team was KIA. What was the last thing he said to us?” Ghost takes a careful step forward, bloody hands raised.
“Should’ve had that last drink,” Ghost speaks lowly, inching towards you. “Barely got it out through the blood but he never stopped smiling.” 
He gets close enough to reach out to you, hands gently wrapping around yours as he eases you into letting go of the glass. It clatters to the floor, snapping in half against the moldy concrete.
“I-I didn’t tell them anything.”
“I know.”
“They tried to get me to, but- but I didn’t-”
“I know.”
“I fought back.”
“I know, love.”
Ghost maneuvers you forward until you’re pressed against his chest, forehead digging into the hard pockets of his tac vest. Soap turns his back, giving the two of you a moment and keeping watch. He can hear Ghost’s low murmurs and the rattling of your voice.
You meet up with Gaz and Price ten minutes later, when you’ve collected yourself enough to separate yourself from Ghost. You roll your shoulders back, biting back the pain to stand as tall as you can. Price sets a hand on your shoulder, giving it a soft, comforting squeeze.
Are you okay?
You reach back where Ghost stands directly behind you. His hand finds yours, squeezing three times. You squeeze back once, then twice, then three times before letting go. You give your best smile, feeling the comforting weight of Ghost behind you as you nod at Price.
I will be.
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nanawritesit · 3 months
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Jungkook Imagine: Taking Care of Him When He Gets Sick From Playing with Bam in the Rain
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a/n: i think i might have accidentally deleted the actual request for this when i was cleaning out my ask box, but i know for a FACT it was requested 😤 it’s been on on my to do list for a while now, and i miss him sm rn, so here it is :)
TW: sick!jungkook, it’s just a cold but he’s kinda whiny, living together, mentions of food
—————
“Jeon Jungkook, you get back here right now!” you screeched from the back porch steps. It was pouring down rain and chilly, but you were safely tucked under an awning with one of your boyfriend’s sweatshirts on.
“Don’t worry, honey!” he yelled back, chasing his pet doberman all around the backyard. “Bam loves the rain!”
“It’s not Bam I’m worried about!” you retorted. “You’re not wearing a coat or hat, and you’re gonna get sick!”
“I’m not going to get sick!” he argued, putting his hands on his hips sassily. “Don’t worry about me! Just go back inside, I’ll be there in a bit. I just want to make sure Bam gets some exercise in.”
You rolled your eyes and turned back around to walk into your shared apartment. Songie and Paengie, your other two greyhounds, cocked their heads at you as you entered the living room.
“Kids, your daddy is an idiot.” you sighed, petting their heads.
—————
“Ugghhhh….” you heard your boyfriend moan from his bedroom.
You laughed to yourself as you finished preparing his soup. Oh how you loved being right.
Picking up the bowl and a big glass of water, you made your way down the hall to where he laid in his bed, bundled up in a million blankets.
“There’s my beautiful nurse…” he beamed with a crooked smile when he looked up and saw you. All three dogs perked up from their places on the bed, looking at you with wide eyes.
You gave him a warm smile and sat down on the bed next to him. “I made you some chicken noodle soup. And here’s some water, you’ll need to stay hydrated.”
“You’re the best, baby.” he pouted affectionately, sitting up to take the bowl from you. He winced as he did so. “Ah, it hurts to move…”
“Your muscles are just weaker because your body’s trying to fight off the infection.” you explained with a small smile.
“Is that why I’ve been so tired?” he asked, eyes sparkling innocently. You would think he’d never been sick before.
You nodded in confirmation. “You’ll need to get lots of rest to get better.”
He blew on a spoonful of the soup, then ate it slowly. His eyes squinted shut at the warmth and comfort of the meal. “This is so good. Literally the best thing you’ve ever cooked for me.”
You scoffed dramatically. “Ouch, thanks darling.” you grumbled sarcastically.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” he pleaded, reaching for your hand. “I just meant that it’s really touching that you’d take the time to make me soup while I’m sick!”
“I know, baby.” you shushed him, brushing some of his hair back. “I was just teasing.”
He breathed a sigh of relief, going back to his soup. “That isn’t a very nice thing to do to a sick person.”
“Well, if you had listened to your partner, you wouldn’t be sick right now.” you quipped back, a satisfied smirk on your face.
“Yeah, you’re right…” he sighed in defeat. “I definitely learned my lesson.”
You grinned triumphantly. “Good boy. Have you been feeling any better?”
“Not really. My throat still hurts and my nose is runny.” he complained. “But having you take care of me makes me feel a bit better.”
You smiled, squeezing his hand. “It’s no trouble. I’m not heartless after all. Hearing you admit I was right is reward enough.”
He chuckled at your cheekiness. “If I wasn’t so sick right now, I’d kiss you.”
“Awh…” you pouted, rubbing his thigh comfortingly. “When you’re better you can give me the biggest kiss in the world.”
“That’s all the motivation I need.” he grinned hopefully.
“Alright then, finish your soup and water and go straight back to bed.” you instructed, ruffling his hair a bit before you stood up to leave. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Yes, nurse.” he replied, giving you a theatrical salute.
You chuckled, then leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.
“I love you, Y/N.” he whimpered as you opened the door.
You turned around momentarily to smile at him. “I love you too, baby. I hope you feel better soon.”
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