#they all live off of ration bars | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

venusstorm · 11 months

Text

𝘽𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙨

The time in which you gifted Bucky Barnes an adorable little keychain for his motorcycle.

ෆ Warnings: 18+ – MINORS DNI, fluff, insecurity, Bucky can’t stop lifting you up

ෆ Bucky Barnes x Reader

ෆ w/c: 1.2k

̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟

"Isn't this yours, honeybee?" Bucky questions, dangling the bright yellow bumblebee with a pastel pink heart in his hand. He inspects it carefully, turning it around before offering it back to you.

You shake your head, "It was, yea...but..."

Bucky stares at you expectantly and suddenly the entire idea sounded foolish. You couldn't help but envision him laughing at you, snorting at how ridiculous he'd look flying down the highway with your dumb keychain flapping in the wind. It'd stick out like a sore thumb against his jet-black bike, the rev of his engine alone probably sending the poor bee soaring into the clouds.

"I put it in there by accident," you laugh nervously, reaching out for the tiny bee. But his hands clenched tightly around the keychain before you could grab it.

Almost tauntingly he lets it hang in front of your face, staring at you with a half smile.

"On accident?" He hums. "So the keychain that's been on your backpack since the day I met you just somehow found its way into my birthday present?"

You shrug. "I took it off and must've misplaced it."

His eyes glimmer with question but instead of pushing further, he lets it go. He shrugs, "Okay."

Your face falls as he hands the keychain back to you. You squeeze the poor ball of fluff, trying your best not to belittle yourself for being so nervous.

It's for the best, you told yourself. I'm sure he doesn't want some weird form of "staking claim" on his bike. His buddies would make fun of him for it anyway. It's better if it stays with me. Yea. Better.

Hurriedly you try to direct your attention away from your thoughts, shoving the keychain into your pocket.

Your solemn expression brightens into excitement. "I have another surprise!"

You take Bucky's hand, leading him towards your living room which noticeably had a different ambiance than usual. He happily trails behind you, watching your joyous face with adoration.

Every time he's with you his brain goes fuzzy. You allow him to decompress, relax, and think about nothing besides the moment he's in. He craves getting off of work and coming straight to your apartment, still sweaty and dirty from working at the bar, and yet you run up and give him the biggest hug. "Hang on, let me take a shower, honeybee." But you'd ignore him, smashing your lips against his until he gives up rationalizing and allows you to strip him bare.

"I know it's kind of corny and if you'd rather go out and celebrate I completely understand. I just thought this would..."

He can't focus on your words. Not as he's looking at what you had done. Candles lit around the room, the whole place smelling of warm vanilla and cinnamon. Fairy lights twinkled around the ceiling, draping over the windows. The coffee table has been shoved to the side and in its place is a bundle of blankets and floor pillows. Balloons and streamers are scattered across the room, and finally, he zones in on the blue and white cake.

"Happy Birthday James!" it reads. He could tell that you made it because of the bright red heart dotting the i.

He whispers your name in pure disbelief.

"Yes?" You stare up at him with admiration. You truly love this man and want to do everything in your power to show it.

"C'mere, baby." Bucky scoops you up into a hug, hiking you up until your legs are wrapped around his waist. He holds you close against his chest, kissing you sweetly. "You did all this for me?"

You nod, eyes wide as he stares at your lips. A look of pure hunger ravishes you. Bucky presses his forehead against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He couldn't recall a time before you when his heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest. Nor a time when his eyes became so glazed over with pure adoration that he swore he'd cry right then and there. He was hesitant about this future, the new world that he found himself forced to live in. But the moment he saw your sweet smile for the first time, all that faded away.

"Thank you, Princess." You whimper as he whispers into your ear, his hands traveling up the Henley that you stole from his drawer. He didn't mind you stealing his clothes. The first time he caught you he handed you a pile of his shirts, begging you to take them and wear them as your own.

He kisses your shoulder softly. "Thank you for being here for me."

"For taking the time to know me and care for me."

His lips press against your neck, a soft groan rumbling within his throat. "I still remember the day we met...felt like the universe was finally giving me my happy ending."

You state his name breathlessly. "I'm supposed to be celebrating you, not the other way around."

He ignores your remark, his eyes narrowing as his brain begins to churn. "Do you trust me, sweetheart?"

You respond without hesitation. "With everything."

"And you'll always tell me the truth, right?"

You nod reassuringly.

He releases his grip on your legs, setting you back onto the ground. "So tell me what this is about." His hand shoots into your pocket, pulling out the black and yellow bee. He squeezes it in his hand before laying it out in his palm.

"I told you–"

He raises an eyebrow, "The truth."

You didn't want to come off as too clingy and you didn't want to hear Bucky reject your gift. Thank you baby but...it's a little childish. You could hear the words flowing from his lips perfectly. He'd hate it.

"I–"

Bucky pulls you closer. His eyes flooded with warmth. "Please."

"It was for your bike," you whisper. "And before you say anything. I know it's dumb...that's why I took it back."

"My bike?"

You nod wordlessly. "I thought it'd be cute if you had a little piece of me wherever you go. But the more I thought about it the more I realized how stupid it'd probably look. I mean...none of the other guys have–"

Bucky cuts you off, lifting you off the ground and back into his arms. "Oh, baby...is this what you were hiding?"

You nod sheepishly. "It's stupid."

He shakes his head. "It's perfect. You're perfect. M'gonna tie this onto it right now, honeybee. The guys are going to be so fucking jealous when they see what you got me."

Your lips broaden into a smile. "Really?"

Bucky hugs you tightly, his hand caressing your head against his shoulder. "Gotta let the whole world know I've got the most thoughtful, gorgeous person by my side. M'never taking it off, baby. It goes where I go now."

You squeal as he races into the garage with you in his arms, flicking the lights on and heading towards his bike. He sets you down gently, making a show of the keychain in his hand before attaching it to his key ring. Happily, he throws his leg over the bike, twisting the ignition. The bike roars to life and the sight of your bright yellow bee against the black exterior makes you burst out into laughter.

Bucky grins. "See? It's perfect, baby. Told you."

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fics #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes gifs #biker!bucky #biker bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #soft!bucky #honeybee x Bucky

6K notes · View notes

joeybsversion · 4 months

Text

Contract

Joe Burrow x Reader

Joe and reader sign a dating contract

“Should I even ask how you got in here?” You sigh, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Did you read this yet?” Joe hands a stack of papers to you.

“I saw it in my dressing room.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He forces the papers towards you again.

“What is this?” You look up at him.

“Our dating contract.”

“Why is it pink?”

He rolls his eyes, “Someone left it in the copy machine and I didn’t know how to change it.”

Your contagious laughter fills the room. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?” You take the paper from his hands.

“Publicity.” He says, almost as if he’s asking a question. “Both of our managers agreed. It’ll be a good story line for the NFL, especially as I head into the play offs.”

“And I’ll benefit how?” You ask, flipping through the pages.

“Don’t you have a movie coming out or something?” He furrows his brows.

“No I live on this set full time.” You roll your eyes at his stupidity.

“They said it’ll bring more attention to you and the movie I guess.” He nervously paces across the room. “Can you just sign it so I can get out of here?”

“I’ll think about it.” You say with a smirk.

A few hours later your cuddled up on the couch with a glass of wine after a long day on set. The constant buzz from your phone pulls your attention ration away from the TV screen in front of you.

“What do you need?” Your voice is rough as you answer the phone.

“Did you check your schedule? We have another fake date planned for tonight.”

“A fake date.” Your lips curl at the idea.

“Correct. Party to celebrate making it to the play offs.” The line is quiet for a minute. “I’ll be there in 20 minutes to get you.”

“See you soon, babe.” You tease. If you’re going to be a fake couple, you better act like it.

“Wow.” Joe says as you climb into his car.

For the first time, you don’t sense a tone of disgust in his voice. “Not so bad yourself.” You pull your seatbelt across your lap and admire Joes outfit.

After a silent card ride to the private downtown party, you climb out of the car, cameras flashing and paparazzi yelling in your direction. Joe comes around to your side of the car and wraps an arm around your waste to pull you close. You feel your heart skip a beat and butterflies fill your stomach with a warm sensation. Joe leads you into the restaurant and towards his group of friends.

“You can let go now.” You try to pull away from his grip.

“We have to act like a couple.” He reminds you and pulls you back to him.

“Right.” You flash a fake smile.

Joe makes his rounds, introducing you to the rest of the team. For the first time, you felt like a normal person. People weren’t asking for pictures, or hounding you with questions about your next big role and security wasn’t needed. For the first time in a long time, you forgot you were a celebrity.

Drinks were flowing, the music was loud, and sweaty bodies continued to crash into each other. Taking advantage of the fact that you felt like an average person, you continued to let people bring you drinks.

You could feel Joe’s eyes on you all night. Everyone once in a while he’d come over and check in on you, his hands would find your hips and his eyes would lock on your. “Doing ok?” He brushed his sweaty hair off of his forehead, the curls falling back into place perfectly.

“Yeah. I hate to admit it but I’m having fun. I think I could get use to this.” You press your drink to your lips. “I feel free here.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” He smiled.

Joe really was a good guy. While you weren’t fond of the whole contract situation, you were glad it was him. It could be so much worse.

“Burrow!!” One of Joes teammates calls from across the bar before the handsome quarterback disappears back into the crowd.

You find yourself at the bar again, ordering another drink and slowly swaying to the music before you feel a hand pressed to the small of your back. You turn to meet a handsome, tall man.

“Hi.” You smile, the same butterflies you felt with Joe explode in your stomach again.

“Hey. I’m Sam. One of Burrows teammates.” He places his large hand out and shakes yours.

“Nice to meet you, Sam.” You smile, leaving your hand locked in his.

“So, how’d Joe get so lucky?”

You blush, looking down nervously. “You’re not so bad yourself.” You smile back at Sam.

Sam, much like Joe and the rest of the team, was very easy to talk to. You felt yourself getting lost in his eyes and laughing at all of his jokes.

Across the room, you can feel Joe staring at you. His eyes burning a hole in the back of Sam’s head. His jaw tightened when another silvery pearl of laughter over from the bar. You had been talking to Sam for the past several minutes. Not just talking, you were laughing and giggling like he was a comedian when Joe knew for a fact he wasn’t that damn funny. Irritation raged through his body as Sam leaned closer to you, causing you to laugh again. You’d never laughed that much with him. And he was your fake boyfriend.

Joe tried to pull your attention away from Sam multiple times. Now that you were finally able to relax and feel ‘free’ as you had told him before, you were flirting with Sam Hubbard.

Joe stormed over to you and Sam and practically ran Sam over. Up until this point, Sam had been one of his best friends but now he wanted to rip his hands off for touching you like that. Like you could possibly belong to Sam when you so clearly were dating Joe. Or fake dating that is, Joe thought to himself.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up as Joe stepped in front of him. “Excuse me.” Joe rudely interrupted, “I need a second with her.” He took you by the hand and led you to a quiet corner.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Joe stammered.

“I’m having fun.” You smiled back in Sam’s direction, his eyes were still locked on you. “I’m leaving with a guy at the end of the night.”

“Have you lost your mind?” His eyes go wide. “Do you remember what we’re doing here? You can’t leave with him!”

“You can’t stop me.”

Joe smiles suspiciously, “You’re right, you are leaving with a guy tonight. Me.”

You laughed. “No I’m not!” You slurred.

Joe leaned in close enough that you could taste the alcohol on his breath. “You have two options.” He whispered. “You can walk out of hand in hand with me, like an adult.” His leaned in closer if that was even possible, you could feel his lips as they whispered against yours. “Or I can carry you out of here over my shoulder. What will it be babe?” Your eyes meet his as he finally closes the gap between both of you.

Complying with his order, you take Joe by the hand, say your goodbyes, and leave the party. Outside you’re met by another crowd of rowdy photographers and fans.

“Stay close.” Joe leads you through the crowd.

As both of you had been drinking and were unable to drive, Joe ordered a car to pick you up. You climbed in quickly behind him, climbing into his lap and clinging to him as if he was your only sense of security.

“I know this is supposed to be fake, but I’ve been having a lot of fun with you. And it makes me so jealous to see having fun with other guys.” Joe slurs, his grip tightening around you. “I’ll give you anything you want if you give me the chance to make you happy. No more of this fake dating shit. I want you to be my girlfriend. I want to give it a shot with you. Take it or leave it because I’m not open to negotiations. You’re mine.” Joe crashes your lips together again.

“Only you could make asking me to be your girlfriend sound like a business deal.” You giggle.

“Please be my girlfriend.” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I am.”

“My real girlfriend. No more contract. No more fake dates. No expectation.” He kisses you again. “Be mine.”

#joe burrow #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow one shot #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow insta au #joe burrow instagram

462 notes · View notes

hey-august · 1 month

Text

March Madness Event - Winner (NSFW | Buggy X Marine!GN!Reader)

Woah woah woah, this story concludes the March Madness event!

(In case you missed it, throughout the month of March I posted polls pitting kinks against kinks. The ones that lost in the polls received short stories involving a bit of failure. The kink that won at the end of the month was slated to receive a proper story. And that's where we are now!)

I'll be honest, I did not expect this to be the winner. Then again, I should have seen it coming with how it took off in every poll it was in.

Thank you all for participating! Voting, reading, commenting, liking, reblogging - everything!!

I hope you enjoyed this event and that you enjoy this story. 🩷

Description: As a Marine, you're responsible for safely escorting the captured prisoner, Buggy the Clown. Things don't go according to plan and while the prisoner remains captured, not all of him ends up behind bars...

Teeny tiny teaser: "This fucker needed to know the effect his dumbass decision had on others."

Word count: ~3.4k (I don't remember the last time I wrote a one-shot this long 🥴)

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, marine!reader, no use of Y/N, insertion sex, bit of degradation, cockwarming (not solely intimate, but there is some eventually), misuse of devil fruit powers

“I can fuck you harder if you uncuff me,” he said through gritted teeth. “C’mon, tell me you don’t want that.”

The teasing remark was hissed behind your ear, sending a shiver through your body. Your weak fucking body, nearly wiped of all self-restraint. A thin thread of rationality kept you tethered to a sense of preservation, but the constant pounding threatened to snap that hold.

You were responsible for locking up the prisoner - a duty you’ve fulfilled many times without issue. Over the years, your strength and cleverness helped you climb the ranks of Marines, yet this was the first time you failed to complete this responsibility. Well, you haven’t failed yet, but the more the thread frays, the more your legs shake, the more his heavy grunts fill your ears…

Your shaky hands gripped the seastone cuffed wrists wrapped around your body. Although the pirate couldn’t grip your hips the way either of you wanted, he was able to pull your body towards his as he relentlessly slammed himself in you.

Of all the captured criminals you ever escorted, it was the goddamn clown that broke you. The pathetic clown with a face of smeared paint. Left behind by his crew. A captain who was visibly crestfallen when none of the Marines appeared impressed by his presence.

Despite his circumstances, the prisoner - Buggy the Clown - lived up to his namesake. Nearly every comment out of his mouth was a joke, often at the expense of anyone around him. The lack of laughter after each quip should add to embarrassment and pity for the clown, but you found yourself enjoying the amusement he was clearly creating for himself. It was…endearing.

As his sole escort below deck, his attention quickly turned towards you and the warm fluttery feeling you had moved lower in your body. Silence only protected you for so long before your face was too red to ignore, giving the clown encouragement to continue. Changing tactics, Buggy started spouting cheesy and overused pickup lines. Each remark said with unabashed enthusiasm added to the heat on your face.

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.” “I’d like to report a crime. My breath was stolen.” “That Marine uniform doesn’t look so bad on you. But it would look better on the floor.”

Those comments were so stupid and worked so well. A few hissed retorts and threats of punishment were disarmed with a charming smile. You had no chance of winning whatever this game was. Secretly, you weren’t sure you wanted to win. There was something alluring about this pirate who tried to hide behind jokes and laughter that you wanted more of.

Arousal easily increases in potency when mixed with other feelings. For you, it was unexpected affection and the lure of degeneracy. For Buggy, you assumed it was the fear and anxiety that comes with imprisonment. Each concoction was perfectly portioned and all it took were choice words, overly-familiar touches, and curious glances for the poison to take effect.

Alone in the room, it only took seconds to pull your pants low enough to grant Buggy access. You leaned forwards, steadying yourself against the wall, while he grabbed the lower hem of your top. His thrusts were erratic and sloppy as he tried to find a decent pace. There was barely enough time for this moment of guilty indulgence and you both wanted as much from it as possible.

Bringing his bound hands overhead, Buggy pulled you close to his chest until you were wrapped in his hold. With his hands closer to your hips, he was able to move both of your bodies at a quick tempo. He was rewarded with a whine that escaped your heavy breathing.

“S’that how you like it? Hard and rough? I didn’t expect you to be so fucking filthy. Do all your prisoners get welcomed like this?”

Fuck. Why did his voice sound so good? And why did it sound better saying such degrading shit?

You shook your head and leaned into his touch, wanting to feel more. “Sh-shut up. Don’t you ever stop talking?”

“You d-don’t want that,” Buggy groaned. “I can feel your body squeeze when I talk. You like it.” His teasing was met with a delicious whimper.

Every word from his mouth had your head spinning. You wanted so much more. You wanted to taste his voice, to feel his mouth against yours, to feel his lips on your skin, but he wore that stupid face paint. You wanted his touch everywhere, for his hands to roam your body, for him to hold you tighter, but he needed to keep the cuffs on. Buggy was a Devil Fruit user. He was dangerous. And he was breaking you down.

Almost as if he could read your mind, Buggy started describing all the ways he wanted to screw you. How good you are at taking him. He wants to hear how good he makes you feel. Lost in the haze of lust, you barely remembered pulling out the key you wore on a chain and had tucked under your clothes. Your palm ached from how tightly you gripped the key while fighting against the horny instincts crowding your body.

You were so close, so achingly close. Maybe if you timed it right, it would be okay. You could minimize the danger. That makes sense, right? It could work. The wisp of rational thought faded away so softly that you didn’t miss its absence.

“Please,” was all you could get out as you unlocked the cuffs and let them fall to the floor.

It was like you released a feral animal with that decision. You didn’t realize just how much the seastone had sapped from Buggy until you felt his bruising grip as he brutally slammed his hips into yours. Even his cock seemed to get harder as it was bullied deeper in your body. He struggled to stay quiet, grunting like a wild boar as he rut into you.

You were on the edge of the precipice, ready to throw yourself over the ledge, when a horrible sound yanked you back to solid ground. A piercing siren sound filled the ship, signaling the top of the hour and a change in duties. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You needed to finish your job before anyone found out what you were doing. Who you were doing.

In a panic, you elbowed the pirate and spun around. “They’re gonna catch us,” you said with wide-eyes.

With all his blood below the belt, Buggy was already caught off-guard by the loud noise. Your rapid change from a whimpering needy thing who needed to be railed, to a Marine who wanted to follow the rules was a lot for the pirate to follow after losing the trail of his own orgasm. All he could do was struggle to pull up his pants as you shoved him into the jail cell and locked him in. Thoughts slowly returned to his head and weakness seeped back into his body as he watched you fix up your uniform before freezing.

“What the fuck did you do?” The question started as a shout before you restrained the rest of your temper.

“I wanted to make sure you come back for me,” Buggy responded with a wink. “Besides, we didn’t get to finish. I figured you could keep it warm for me until the encore.” He reached down and grabbed the crotch of his pants, which was baggier than it should be.

“Are you fucking ser-” The rhetoric question was stopped by the throbbing in your body.

Between your body fully accepting the rough fuck and the whirlwind of anxiety about being caught, you didn’t notice that Buggy left you with a piece of himself. Of all the things he could have done with his Devil Fruit powers in that moment, rather than doing something, anything, that could help him escape, the clown chose to part from his dick. What a fucking joke.

---

It was a sunny day with just enough of a breeze to keep the sails full and to blow away excess heat from the sun. The gentle wind helped dry the perspiration on your skin as you crossed the deck, towards the meeting room. While the air carried away some of the physical evidence, your body still burned and you chose to believe the unrelenting heat was shame. Punctual attendance was critical on the ship and you couldn’t even spare a few minutes to evict the pirate’s privates without risking a penalty.

With each step, you felt the fullness between your legs and the stretch from his girth. You couldn’t remember what it meant to walk normally. Every movement was over thought and analyzed. What felt normal made your core feel too tight against the intrusion. Longer strides had you worry that he might slip out. While it seemed unlikely (all of this was unlikely already), you worried about losing this bit of Buggy. There would be no reasonable way to explain a lone penis anywhere on the ship.

As hard as you tried to be upset with Buggy’s stupid horny decision, your body was still flooded with hormones that drowned logic and only allowed obscene thoughts to float. You were deep in a fucked up situation and you were enjoying it.

You arrived just in time for the meeting to start. It was a daily check-in where attendees would recite numbers and metrics that meant nothing to you. It was important and wholly unnecessary. The returning sheen of sweat and lingering redness on your face could be excused as the hustle needed to arrive on time and not the throbbing you felt inside.

Settling into one of the open chairs, you couldn’t find a position that was remotely comfortable. There was minimal padding on the wood chairs and the backrests were at an awkward height that provided no support. Leaning too far one way pushed Buggy further inside and you just barely concealed the discovering gasp as a deep breath.

Crossing your legs was a terrible idea, as it only added to the unforgiving pressure. The sensation attacked you both, as you felt the confined cock flex in its warm prison. You quickly uncrossed your legs, glad no one could see how they shook under the table.

Wicked voices began whispering to you, talking over the droning presentation at the head of the table. You couldn’t find any reprieve from what you were feeling. The only thing that made you feel better was giving in. You could afford to let your mind drift, this meeting was only to make others feel important. You had your own feelings to deal with.

Your mind wandered down to where those feelings radiated from. To the frustrating ache between your legs. Buggy was a good length, on the longer end of average, but his thickness was far more than average. Thankfully he got you so riled up earlier and all you had to suffer through was a burn that he quickly fucked away. Your body had grown accustomed to the wideness, but being held open for so long was different. Even through the uniform, you felt exposed. With each twitch from your hole as it fruitlessly tried to find some give against the occupant, you fell apart a little more.

You shifted in the chair again, cautiously rolling your hips with the movement. Just once. And then again, under the guise of trying to get comfortable. Fuck, that did feel good. Your body shifted against Buggy’s member just right. You tensed against him, chasing that sensation, and receiving a heavy throb in response.

Your name broke through the fog you willingly got lost in. Your eyes snapped to the man standing at the head of the table.

“Is there something more important than going over these reports?”

Maybe your movements weren’t as subtle as you thought.

“No, Sir. Just trying to get comfortable. I apologize for the distraction.” You spoke loudly, overriding the quiver hiding in your throat.

Buggy was reacting to the jolt of tension that ran through our body. Clenched fists pressed into your knees and your toes curled in the little space available in your boots as you rode out his movement. It was incredibly frustrating and absolutely embarrassing. So why did it feel so fucking good?

---

The rest of the meeting ended without further incident. At least, as far as any of the attendees cared. For you, every action and reaction from either of your linked bodies felt like a whole new event to survive. You offered a tight lipped smile to everyone as they left the room, preferring a small audience when you attempted to use your weak legs. Luckily, horniness and adrenaline held you up and supported you out of the room.

The infirmary was a few doors down and it was around the time the doctor took a break. If you were lucky, the room would be empty and you could put an end to this. The luck was debatable when you opened the door to two pale faces. One belonged to the Marine who was on guard duty and the other belonged to the prisoner being guarded. A prisoner who offered you a small smile that matched the one painted on his face.

The guard started babbling when you entered the room. “H-he doesn’t look good, r-right? I brought him h-here, but they’re all on break. I’m wor-worried he’s gonna upch- upchu-ugh, pu- v- vom-”

“Get sick?”

The guard nodded with pursed lips, struggling to hold back the hiccups and sympathetic heaves that wracked their body. “Doesn’t seem ser-serious enough to call the med-ugh medics b-back.”

You looked at Buggy, trying to assess what was going on. Was this a ploy or was he actually ill? Were you going to get sick?

“It doesn’t look that serious. I can stay with him. Why don’t you go lie down?” Your offer was accepted before you even finished speaking.

The infirmary door closed, leaving you and Buggy in an awkward silence. He sat in a chair, hunched over, still giving you a weak smile.

“Are you okay? Is it bad?” You asked, concerned that his flashy self seemed to be affected. Crouching down, you brought yourself closer to his level.

“Bad,” he repeated hoarsely, leaning towards you.

His trajectory would bring his painted forehead to the white shoulder of your uniform, so you intercepted. Pressing your head against his, you waited for Buggy to continue.

“N-need you. Made a bad decision, need you, please.” One of his cuffed hands pawed at the empty space where his dick should be.

With his strength and stamina taken away during imprisonment, Buggy’s self-inflicted secondary imprisonment was too much. He could feel everything - how your body continued to struggle around him, how warm you were inside, how you reacted to his involuntary cries and demands for more. It felt so fucking good, so deliriously wonderful, and downright torturous.

There was no end in sight, though. There had to be a reason you kept him inside, so even if Buggy could come, it would be followed with overstimulation that could go for who knows how long. Not to mention how upset you would probably be if you were unexpectedly full of his hot cum.

Buggy whimpered at the thought. At imagining you full and plugged. Of his jizz dripping out and collecting in your underwear. Of you being an absolute fucking mess under your prim and pristine uniform, because of him.

“Please,” he whined again.

You pulled away and locked the door. “We don’t have a lot of time. Again.”

Buggy bit his lip as you held out your hand to help him up and blubbered what sounded like, “thank you.”

You understood how he felt. So insatiable that nothing mattered more than giving into these desperate needs that aggressively grew out of desire. Giving up on everything but chasing the high, you uncuffed Buggy and undid your pants.

This fucker needed to know the effect his dumbass decision had on others. You shoved his hand down your pants, letting him feel how wildly aroused you were. How much of a mess he made.

His groan was laced with delight and pain at the knowledge. His touch was everywhere, committing all of the evidence of your lust to memory. As his hand crept further, it came in contact with his base and his body jolted at the touch. This was too much.

Yanking his hand out of your pants, Buggy rushed to unbuckle his and expose where his member belonged. Following his lead, you pulled your pants down and turned around. Wary about wasting precious time, Buggy pressed his hips against yours and shuddered when his cock returned to its rightful place. It felt as if his senses increased a hundredfold now that it was back.

“M’close,” he warned, struggling to set a reliable pace.

Honestly, he was about to explode when his hand was down your pants. But he needed this. He needed to feel you moving on his cock. To feel your body react against him. To feel you explode.

As if reading his thoughts, you grabbed his hand and pushed it down. You didn’t need much. This entire time, you didn’t need much, apparently. Just his attention on you was enough to pull you off the trail you were on. And that’s what he gave you - his enthusiastic attention.

His hand moved fervently, following the cues your body gave. The touches that had your breaths teeter on moans, pressure that had your body clench his, sensations that increased the tension in your core.

“Uh-haah, uh-huh, just like that. K-keep going, g-gonna… You’re gonna make me c-” You were cut off as the feeling ripped through your body, sharp and electric. The words in your mouth were wiped away as you fell to the indescribable surge.

Buggy huffed as he struggled to fuck through your orgasm. Your unsaid words rung through his head - he was responsible for this. You were shaking beneath him because of what he did. Your sweet sighs of relief were for him.

“Wh-where-” Buggy could hardly stutter a question he should have asked earlier.

“Finish what you started,” you said, leaning into his touch once again.

Feeling your body melt against his, accepting his thick cock so easily, pulling him deeper - that was more than enough.

“F-fucking shit,” Buggy hissed as he came.

The climax was nearly painful as he shot stream after stream inside your body. Feeling like the release would never end, the pirate clung to you and whimpered with each pulse. Eventually, he ran out. His hold released with a shaky sigh.

Buggy struggled with words to fill the next moment. Something about how this felt good. Maybe a thanks? But before he could decide, yet another loud sound interrupted the moment. A sound that was accompanied by a lurch that threw the pirate back. An explosion. Then came the alarms. The ship was under attack by pirates. You both rushed to fix yourselves up.

“I-I think that’s for me,” Buggy said.

You looked at him incredulously. Was this all a fucking trick?

“I want you to come with me.”

His request kept you silent. This didn’t make sense.

“I didn’t think they were coming. I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. But it was fun - well, I had fun. I think you did too. We can keep having fun, unless you want to keep living this stuffy life.” Buggy spoke quickly.

His explanation was rushed, but you could see a hint of honesty among the turmoil.

Buggy held his hand out for you to grab.

---

Life on a pirate ship was different, but also similar to life with the Marines. Useless meetings couldn’t be avoided and petty drama existed everywhere. But the spirit and passion that came with piracy was unbelievably vast. Joys flew high, parties raged hard, drinks always flowed, treasure was celebrated.

And on Buggy’s ship, there was always more. More life, more color, more light. Dumb jokes, death defying stunts, fantastic skills, and stupid decisions that managed to work out in the end.

One of your favorite things about life aboard the ship were the quiet afternoons you spent with the captain. Afternoons that were spent laying in the shared bed, your body nestled against his. Afternoons full of stories and musings. Afternoons dedicated to the two of you, which you spent slotted together in warmth and intimacy.

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut #gender neutral reader #hey-august march madness

215 notes · View notes

sexydoffyman · 6 months

Text

day 21 - PROSTITUTION

John Price

navigation

genre: smut

mdni

A/N: I'm starting to question why are there people still waiting for this, considering my unannounced 1-week breaks.

Your country was at war. Everyone was panicking, trying to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. Companies were crashing, and people started losing their jobs. People were desperate for even a little bit of money.

You knew you couldn't turn a blind eye to the situation when the war broke out. Everyone thought it would be a one-week thing. No one knew how wrong they were. Fortunately, you found a job right after the announcement.

Sure, this job was described as "unethical" or "dirty", but it got the job done. You had a place to live and food to eat. You understood that the job was risky. And sometimes, some dudes really went far beyond your comfort zone. Well... sometimes is an understatement. It got to the point where dudes not breaking the ground rules was a rarity.

Even tho these things happened, sometimes you knew that during an attack, you'd be most likely spared or even protected. No one would want to lose a sex worker in such a situation.

Your customers were mostly military men and cops. Sometimes, you'd even find yourself a drug dealer. Good news has been spread about the British army joining the war and allying with your country. That also meant that the foreigners would be more inclined to pay more.

One day, you met this particular military man. He was always walking around the building as they had received some intel on the enemy soldiers. You met him in a hallway. You wanted to buy a candy bar. You were exhausted after your last customer.

But just as you walked up to the automat you realised you had no money on you. You sat on the floor in front of the automat and groaned in frustration.

Suddenly, you heard some beeps and thuds inside of the automat. You looked up and saw a man staring down at you with a soft smile. He was handing you a candy bar. You recognised him by the hat he always wore. You took it, still kind of disoriented, as he nodded and walked away.

You stood up quickly and yelled out a "Thank you!" He only waved at you as he kept walking down the hall. You kept bumping into him more and more. You always smiled at him, and he smiled back at you. It was a nice, friendly interaction.

As time went on, the stress took a huge toll on him. He was tired, and he wasn't able to focus. And with all of the weight on his shoulders he decided that he would think rationally and slept with someone.

But finding anyone who would be dtf in this horrible time would be hard. So he decided the second best thing he could come up with.

You heard a knock on your door. You got up, taking all of your strength to smile as you opened the door. You really weren't expecting him to show up. He didn't say a word he just handed you a stack of money. It was like three times more than you usually got.

You smiled at him, this time the smile being more genuine. You invited him in and closed the door behind you. He put the money on a small table that was in the room. You went to ask him if he wanted anything specific, but he already picked you up.

He knew what he wanted and felt a little embarrassed that he had to take such measures. He gently put you on the bed and put your legs on his hips. He closed his eyes and kissed you softly. You kissed him back and waited for what was about to come. You knew he was a military man. And from your experience, it was the military men that usually took advantage of you.

You could already feel the bulge in his pants. He pulled your pants off while still kissing you. He then took his own. He didn't waste a second and slipped into you. You were surprised by the stretch. He was huge, and he was aware of it. He didn't want to hurt such a sweet thing.

He pushed in gently and started to move his hips. You usually hated the sex, but this time it was different. He was sensual. It felt almost loving. You whined a bit. He felt the stress wash off him as he listened to your sounds.

He didn't have to be rough to make you go crazy. He caressed your cheeks and peppered you with kisses. He felt himself get close. He got a little more talkative. "You feel so good, sweetheart." "Just like that, darling." The nicknames he gave you made you shiver. You felt the knot in your stomach snap.

Your back arched as you made a sweet sound. The thought of making you cum made Price feel things he couldn't describe. He pulled out and finished into his hand. You laid on your back as he put you down gently. He took a tissue and cleaned his hand with it.

He didn't understand how much of a sweetheart he was to you. He just thought about the time he saw you so exhausted. He put a few extra dollars on the table and left.

You walked up to the table and chuckled, knowing he'd be there for a couple more months and that he couldn't resist you.

You just had to teach him that he's not obliged to pay that much. (He still pays you huge amounts of money.)

359 notes · View notes

ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

Strictly Scandalous…

You first meet Hangman when he accidentally spills his drink on you at the Hard Deck turning your pretty white dress see through. Conscious of eyes on your chest he offers up his shirt to you and begins trying to learn more about you. Reader, turned on by his protective nature and sexy physical appearance, takes him outside with the intent of showing him how much she appreciated his kind gesture and charming personality only to end up receiving the best sex of her life…and possibly a date.

Listen this concept gave me literal life. I did however make a slight change and instead of sex, we went with the reader give Hangman head because that’s what my brain went to. ✌️

Warnings: This is strictly scandalous, smut ahead.

“I really am so unbelievably sorry—“ Jakes leaning over the booth to get closer to you on his elbows, his T-shirt slung over your now very see-through dress. “I just didn’t for the life of me see you standing there.”

“It’s alright, really.” You mule as you take a sip of the Canadian Club Jake had brought you as a sorry for spilling not one, not two, but three draft beers all over your pretty little ensemble. “Besides, the view ain’t that bad from where I’m sitting, so I guess you can say we’re even Stevens.”

Jake had ripped his own shirt off without a second thought, covering your exposed chest to the prying eyes of bar patrons who watched the dirty blonde, usually stable aviator stumble into you haphazardly as he momentarily lost his footing on the way over to the pool table.

It left him exposed from the waist up, which he’d normally be okay with. But Penny had a strict no nips policy and Jake hated the fact Bradley Bradshaw's Hawaiian throw over had now become his saving grace. He’d never live it down, the shirt or the fact he’d dragged you down in the depths of embarrassment with him. Jake Seresin was on a roll tonight, clearly.

“If it’s Hawaiian shirts you’re into you should be talking to Rooster—“ Jake mumbles under his breath as he watches you from across the booth twirl the little plastic straw around the vessel holding your drink of choice.

“It's not the shirt.” You simply shake your head. “And I don't do mustaches.”

“What is it that you do then?” Jake feels himself gaining some confidence back, he’s sending you one of his signature smirks and he knows just by the way you finish your drink and lean into the booth a little more to close the gap as much as you can that lingers between the two of you.

“Dirty blondes who spill beer on unassuming contacts.”

It's that comment that led you to know, with the copious amounts of alcohol flooding your systems and inability to think all that rationally, not that you didn't want to be grown on your knees in the carpark of the Hard deck. Not that you didn't want Jake's hands wrapped in your hair, helping to guide you up and down his length.

It's just that an all important question had been missed in the meet and greet part of your x-raked rendezvous. Why was Jake at a naval bar in the first place? And he certainly hadn't asked you that question either. But, it was far too late to ask now, consequences be damned you thought.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck–” Like a mantra, Jakes looking up into the heavens above as he bucks his hisp against your face, his cock disapearing and re-appearing moments after having being shoved down your warm tight throat. “Yess–ah fuck!” You've got his shirt on the ground, stopping the rocks from digging into your knees too deep as you work to work him over.

It's damn near organsmic to hear Jake, the man who'd spilt three drinks on you earlier, moan the way he was. Needy, lustful, one hand twisted in your hair while the other cups your cheek. Guiding you as you take every inch he's willing to give you. You hadnt gone into this thinking youd end up sucking Jake off, but fuck it had been one of your better ideas of the night so far.

“Fuugghh–!” Jakes flushed a red hume, it had started to creep its way up his neck from below the hawaiian button up, flushing his cheeks a pretty pink as his breathing laboured and got a little heavier with every passing second he relished in. “Feels so fucking good.”

If Jake had known that all it would take to get such a pretty girl like you down on your knees before him, sucking him senseless in the car park of the Hard Deck, was to spill a few amber beverages across your chest he would have tapped the whole damn keg months ago.

“Mmmhmm–” You simply aren't shy, moaning around Jake's cock as you look up through watery eyelashes to see him looking down at you with an open slack jaw. He has his back pressed against the side of his black F-150 and his jeans pulled down just past his hips, down enough that you could reach in and free him from the confines of his boxer briefs when you had pushed him up against the truck initially to make out.

It had been a feverish, intense hook-up. So feverish and needy that when your hand grazed against Jake's clothed cock he was already hard and standing to attention, hoping that the situation unfolding would lead to something more.

“Ah fuck, darlin, if you don’t sucking me off like that I’m gonna cum down that pretty little throat of yours.” Jakes close, he can feel his orgasm pooling at the base of his shaft. He can feel the all to familiar sensation of his balls tightening, his heart rate spiking, the need to just fuck deep into your throat overwhelming him as he let out groans and frustrated sighs, because he keeps forgetting how to fuckign breathe.

Popping your lips, you pull back and take Jake's sloppy length in your hand, pumping him as you chuckle and smile up at him.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing?” Jakes taking that as the go ahead to rail your throat. Waiting till your lips are once again wrapped around his tip before he's taking over the pace, groaning as your nose hits his manscaped pubic hair. Holding you down as he twitches and leans over you.

“OOhhhhhh fucking christ–” Tapping at his thigh, Jakes pulls your head back just to watch the tears fall freely down your cheeks as you gasp for air, only to do the same thing over and over again because it feels far too good to stop now when hes so close to cumming down your windpipe. “Baby, ahh Fuck I’m there, I’m there ohhhhh ffuugghhh–”

It's an overwhelming sensation, to have Jake buried at the hilt down your throat as he's withering away above you. His vision blurred for a minute as he felt himself releasing into your warm, tight throat. The mixture of saliva and opake cum dripping down your tongue before you swallow. Neat and tidy. “Ahhhh oh my god–”

Despite his inhibitions, Jake Seresin is a southern gentleman at heart. So when he comes down from the high you gave him, he's unlocking his truck, pulling you into it and down onto his lap. Kissing you just to taste himself on your tongue as he cups your cheeks, hot to the touch.

There's no secret just by looks alone that you are by far much younger than Jake. He knows it's not a question you ask a lady either, so he goes about it rather strategically while he's sucking against the pulse point of your neck as you grind yourself down into his lap.

“What do you do, pretty girl?” Jake's mumbling. “You know, when you aren't riding thighs in the backs of Ford trucks in car parks of bars?” And it's your answer that has Jake's voice hitching in the back of his throat. He's just gotten a new gig, as had most of the daggers–they were instructors, TopGun instructors. The newest class were starting Monday…..

“Im a naval aviator–” You moaned, pulling back just so you could rip your dress up over your head, exposing yourself to the drunk in trouble man under you. “Start at Miramar on Monday, Lieutenant Y/n Mitchell at your service.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Jake ‘Hangman Seresin

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

#ohtobeleah 3k celebration #strictly scandalous jake ‘hangman’ seresin #jake seresin x f!reader #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x reader

1K notes · View notes

thesewordsareallihavetogive · 2 years

Text

That's My Wife - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x airline pilot!reader

Summary: 3.2k words. Rooster and his coworkers drew the short stick and ended up on a commercial civilian flight across the country for specialty flight training in Key West. A certain someone makes the flight and travel woes well worth the trouble for Bradley.

Warnings: none really, just tons of fluff! maybe some cursing & frequent usage of she/her pronouns for the reader

a/n: hi!! i posted a little snippet/preview of this fic last night and def did not expect it to get as much attention as it did. i'm so happy that so many of you were just as excited as me to see the finished product! i hope y'all enjoy it! <3

master list

An advanced specialty flight training at the Naval Air Station in Key West had the best aviators in the U.S. military flocking to the vibrant Florida island. This, of course, included Top Gun’s best graduates.

Rooster, Phoenix, and Hangman all had impressive reputations before the Uranium Plant mission led by Maverick. After that mission? They were nothing short of living legends in the Navy. So, naturally, they were among the pilots being sent out for the rigorous training.

The Navy couldn’t rationalize sending a private charter plane or wasting the fuel needed to transport just a few pilots to a base thousands of miles away, so the three aviators were sent on a commercial flight. Phoenix, Hangman, and Rooster got to experience the joys of civilian travel–long security lines through TSA, insufferably stressed-out travelers, and the overwhelming urge to get wasted at the bar conveniently located near their gate.

Hangman joked that if Rooster weren’t in uniform and instead wearing his typical Hawaiian shirts and jorts, he would’ve fit right in with the other passengers. Phoenix, who gave in and treated herself to a glass of wine, snorted before adding that Rooster was uptight enough then to blend in seamlessly.

Bradley would never admit it, but they were probably right. His one consolation was the smile his boarding pass brought to his face. The airline they were traveling with was familiar to Rooster to say the least.

The three aviators received priority boarding as active-duty military personnel. They sat at the very front of the cabin and Phoenix took the opportunity to people-watch as the rest of the passengers boarded. Hangman busied himself with looking into which Key West nightclubs and bars he could hit up after training while Rooster sent a quick text.

2:37 p.m. Hey, baby. Just boarded the flight to Key West. I’ll talk to you when we land 😘 – Brad

2:38 p.m. Have a safe flight, babe 😉💗 – y/n

Rooster chuckled at y/n’s use of a winking emoji before he turned his phone off and slipped it into his pocket. The flight attendants moved down the center aisle to begin their safety demonstration. Rooster was certain he’d sat through the same speech a thousand times, so he got comfortable and closed his eyes to take a nap.

A crackling from the plane’s speakers preceded what Rooster anticipated to be another relatively boring announcement.

“Good afternoon and welcome aboard, everyone. This is your Captain speaking,” an upbeat feminine voice floated through the aircraft’s speakers. Bradley’s eyes shot open wide and he sat up straight at the sound. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“No way…” he whispered to himself with a surprised smile.

Phoenix and Hangman shared a side-eye glance once they noticed the sudden change in Rooster’s demeanor. The man previously looked bored out of his mind and now he was hanging on to every word of the announcement. A wide grin spread across Rooster’s face while the pilot continued her introduction. As they taxied toward the runway, Hangman’s curiosity got the better of him.

“What is it, Bradshaw?” Jake asked with a raised brow. The bastard couldn’t help but be nosy. Phoenix softly elbowed Hangman in the ribs, but she certainly wasn’t tuning the conversation out. Rooster confidently squared his shoulders and turned to look at them.

“That’s my wife,” Rooster stated proudly, referring to the captain’s voice with a grin.

Hangman’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head and Phoenix leaned back with an impressed smile. Rooster’s fellow aviators knew he was married; hell, he wore his wedding ring like a badge of honor. He was quick to reject the frequent flirting he received and would simply raise his left ring finger whenever he was asked out at The Hard Deck–the man was nothing if not loyal. But Rooster was never the type to speak about his personal life at work, much less mention that his wife is also a pilot.

In fact, the only person Rooster worked with that knew anything about y/n was Maverick. Bradley introduced them to each other a few months after they started dating. The younger Navy man knew by the end of their second date that y/n was it for him. It took y/n a little longer to come to the same conclusion, but once she did she never looked back.

Actually, it was Maverick that helped y/n realize just how head-over-heels in love she was with Bradley. He brought y/n to meet his stand-in father figure at Mav’s hanger. In the middle of y/n and Maverick geeking out about all the memorabilia displayed in the hanger and trading flight stories, Rooster ran out to silence his Ford Bronco’s ancient and overly-sensitive car alarm. Pete took the opportunity to let y/n know just how whipped his godson was. “I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time, y/n. He’s bailed on our dinner plans at least three times in the past month just to get a chance to see you when you’re in the area.” Maverick smiled and clasped y/n’s shoulder. “You’re good for him. I hope he’s good for you too.”

And the rest was history. Just after their one year anniversary, Bradley got down on one knee in the middle of a crowded airport after they spent three full weeks apart. y/n flung herself into Bradley’s arms, foregoing the ring entirely and pressed her lips against his before she said “yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” Maverick was one of the few people at their wedding. It was small and intimate–just how y/n and Rooster liked it. Their relationship wasn’t a secret by any means, but they preferred things to be private.

Rooster returned from his trip down memory lane as y/n reached the end of her airline spiel. Her simultaneous light-hearted bubbly tone and professional manner had Bradley sporting a sweet smile.

“Before we take off, there’s an additional announcement I’d like to make.” Rooster perked up. y/n was going off-script. “A little birdie told me that some very special Navy aviators are on board with us today,” y/n’s voice came through the speakers, pride seeping into her tone.

Phoenix and Hangman exchanged amused smirks before staring right at Rooster. In a different scenario, the sudden attention focused on him might’ve made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t care less right now. His wife, whom he hadn’t seen in over a week, was just steps away and he would be able to hold her in his arms again soon.

“Thank you for your service, lady and gents,” y/n finished sincerely. A polite applause filled the aircraft, bringing appreciative smiles to the aviators’ faces. Rooster wasn’t surprised that y/n somehow found out they were on her flight; he knew better than anyone that she was particularly skilled at getting what she wanted, evidently including private passenger information.

With their busy schedules and unpredictable jobs, y/n and Rooster would sometimes go weeks without seeing each other. y/n was gaining seniority in her airline, so she was able to pick and choose her flights sometimes–all of which she strategically planned to be able to visit her husband. When they were on opposite sides of the country, or even the world, it was harder to align their schedules for just a phone call.

A few nights ago, they had synced-up free time and they didn’t waste a minute. Despite the time zone differences, they talked on the phone for hours. Bradley told y/n about his upcoming week of specialty training at the Naval Air Station in Key West. Since there was no pressing mission or deployment, the Navy was opting to send Rooster and his coworkers on a commercial flight rather than coordinate Navy transport. y/n hummed and checked her schedule while they talked. Lo and behold, she would be piloting a flight from San Diego to Key West later that week. Specifically, Rooster’s flight.

y/n didn’t let on anything about their upcoming flight during the phone call, she wanted it to be a surprise. If there was anything being a commercial passenger pilot taught her, it was how to make sure no one suspected anything was wrong while she spoke into her headset mic. Once, she had to make an announcement to casually address turbulence despite her internal panic while she discreetly manually redistributed fuel between engines when the automatic fuel system failed on a cross-country flight.

The very next morning following Rooster and y/n’s phone call, she pulled a few strings at work and was able to glance at the passenger details for the upcoming direct SAN to EYW flight.

Seat 1D: Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

Seat 1E: Lt. Natasha Trace

Seat 1F: Lt. Jake Seresin

If any policies or procedures were violated in the process of y/n finding the answer to her burning question, no one batted an eye. After all, she was quite possibly the most beloved pilot in her airline. So, that’s how she found out exactly which of Rooster’s coworkers would be accompanying him.

As the plane sped down the runway, quickly gaining enough momentum for take-off, Bradley and y/n both fiddled with their wedding rings. It was a habit they’d developed independently, ironically enough.

y/n’s ascent into the air was smooth as always. Even the most nervous passengers appreciated the light-as-a-feather feeling settling over them as y/n gently reached cruising altitude. Rooster was no stranger to his wife’s expert precision and careful handling of her aircrafts. Phoenix and Hangman were thoroughly impressed by y/n’s skill and ease.

Once the fasten seatbelt lights were turned off, the flight attendants made their way down the center aisle of the plane with snack and beverage carts. Hangman didn’t hesitate to order a double shot of whiskey, earning him an incredulous look from both Rooster and Phoenix. ”What happens on this flight, stays on this flight,” he muttered, ignoring the sting in his throat after downing a third of the glass in one go. Phoenix shrugged and ordered herself another glass of wine. Rooster rolled his eyes at both of their antics. Before he could place his own order, the flight attendant addressed him directly.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw? Captain Bradshaw has requested to see you in the cockpit.” Rooster stood up without hesitation, a wide smile on his face. Hangman’s jaw dropped, a small huff escaping his mouth and Phoenix swatted his chest. Before making the short trek to the cockpit, he bought a bag of gummy worms from the snack cart.

He gently rapped his knuckles against the door before slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. y/n didn’t hear Bradley enter the cockpit over her headset, but she instantly recognized his warm cologne. She whipped around and smiled wide at him, taking her co-pilot by surprise. The co-pilot offered to take over and y/n gladly accepted the offer.

y/n typically didn’t haphazardly hop out of her seat while piloting a massive plane with over 200 passengers, but for Bradley, she’d make an exception. She all but threw herself into his arms, sending them both stumbling back a few steps. Rooster gently pulled y/n’s headset off, careful not to mess up her neatly styled hair, before capturing her lips in a searing kiss. y/n’s co-pilot pretended not to notice, but the embarrassed blush spreading across his cheeks gave him away. When y/n pulled away to catch her breath, Bradley pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“How’d you know we’d be on your flight?” he asked, brushing some hair away from his wife’s face.

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” y/n teased with a wink. Rooster was no stranger to y/n’s scheming, but it typically worked out to his advantage so he could live without knowing the details.

She all but did a happy dance at 34,000 feet in the air when Bradley pulled out the pack of gummy worms he hid in his pocket. y/n had admitted on more than one occasion she often got the munchies on longer flights with only stale peanuts to hold her over. She leaned against her husband’s chest and tore into the package of sugary goodness, offering a few gummy worms to her co-pilot in exchange for him swearing to secrecy.

The plane shuddered from a brief pocket of turbulence–one that y/n would’ve handled better, Rooster thought. Bradley braced himself against the wall and pulled y/n against his body to keep her from falling.

“Do you remember the first time we were in the cockpit of a plane together?” Rooster asked with a reminiscent smile. That first experience was undoubtedly more harrowing then the current one. y/n chuckled at the memory.

“I could never forget it, honey,” y/n smiled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek before offering him a gummy worm. The couple stood comfortable in silence for a few minutes, arms wrapped around each other. With the amount of time they spent apart, every moment they got together was precious. Even if they were simply holding each other in the cramped cockpit of an airplane.

y/n’s attention was pulled away from Bradley when a warning light lit up on the dashboard, accompanied by a shrill beeping. Her co-pilot turned back to her, silently signaling that she was needed back in the pilot seat. With a heavy sigh, she untangled herself from Bradley’s arms and pressed a final peck to his lips with a promised “I’ll see you later, baby.”

Rooster watched his wife climb in her well-deserved pilot seat and slip her headset back on. She switched back to her professional demeanor with an impressive ease as she worked to remedy the dash’s highlighted issue.

He wordlessly slipped out of the cockpit and back to his seat. Hangman, who was on the brink of tipsy after his strong whiskey, lost all sense of discretion as Rooster sat back down in his seat.

“Bradshaw, you sly dog. Was the Missus excited to see you?” Hangman poked, focusing on the lipstick print adorning Rooster’s cheek. Phoenix passed Rooster a napkin with a grin of her own. Bradley rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile.

With just an hour left in the flight, y/n handed all the controls over to her co-pilot so she could stretch her legs. Lucky for her, her husband was seated just outside of the cockpit. Whoever booked the seats for the aviators knew what they were doing; Bradley Bradshaw was too tall for his own good, something y/n reminded him of frequently. Ironically enough, she never brought up that teasing point when she needed help reaching something around the house or when they went grocery shopping. The point is, being seated at the very front of the cabin gave Bradley sufficient room for his long legs.

y/n slipped out of the cockpit as inconspicuously as possible. She learned from past experience that passengers tended to freak out when they saw pilots, well, not piloting in the cockpit while the plane was airborne. y/n smiled softly as she took in the sight of her husband quietly snoring with his head leaned back against the chair and mouth wide open. She thought about taking a photo, but she was nearly positive Jake Seresin already had based on the devious grin on his face.

Phoenix noticed movement in the front of the cabin, her eyes eventually landing on a woman in a formal pilot uniform. Her face looked familiar. Phoenix was sure she’d seen her somewhere before. With a final squint, she realized the woman a few strides away was the same woman in all of Rooster’s locker polaroids. Mrs. Bradshaw in the flesh.

y/n offered a friendly smile to Phoenix, who seemed to have figured out who she was. Hangman was still focused on the picture he intended to eventually use for blackmail. Phoenix gently shook Rooster’s shoulder, stirring him from his nap. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes before his eyes settled on his wife.

“Good morning, Brad,” y/n cooed and reached out to grab his hand. He quickly checked his watch before pulling y/n in and kissing the back of her hand.

“Hi, baby,” he greeted with a glint in his eye. y/n chuckled, she knew he was holding himself back from calling her a smart ass while she was on the job. Hangman watched the interaction in awe. Not only did Bradshaw have a skilled pilot wife, but she was also gorgeous and witty? Jake briefly thought about asking Rooster for dating pointers.

The sleepy fog clouding Rooster’s brain cleared when he had three expectant sets of eyes on him, waiting for him to make introductions. He introduced Natasha and Jake first, citing their names and call signs, even though y/n already knew both from the stories her husband told.

“Phoenix, Hangman, this is Captain y/n Bradshaw, my wife,” Rooster finished with a warm smile. Man, he was whipped.

“Outranked by your wife, huh, Bradshaw?” Hangman jabbed harmlessly. The whiskey wore off a while ago, but Jake was always eager for an opportunity to poke fun at Rooster.

“Mmm, I outrank you as well, Lieutenant,” y/n smiled sweetly, responding without missing a beat. Phoenix chuckled and held out her hand to high-five y/n for her quick comeback. Jake was certain he heard Rooster mutter “that’s my girl,” as he looked up at his wife with a grin.

Rooster’s coworkers made small talk with y/n as she pulled her leg up behind her in a subtle stretch, using her husband’s hand to keep steady before switching sides and repeating the motion. In just the span of the few minutes y/n spent talking to Hangman and Phoenix, all of Bradley’s stories involving them made so much sense. When there was a brief lull in conversation, y/n checked her wristwatch, her eyes widening when she realized she’d been out for longer than expected.

“It was really nice to meet you guys, but I gotta get back in there,” y/n said apologetically. Hangman and Phoenix nodded in understanding, they were more than familiar with the painstaking pillar of time in aviation. Bradley gently squeezed y/n’s hand before she left, still trying to shake his nap-induced daze.

y/n turned on her heel just before reaching the cockpit door to face Bradley again.

“Are you free tonight?” y/n asked hopefully. The week-long training wasn’t scheduled to start until the following day, but she knew it wasn’t unlikely that the Navy would have Rooster busy in his spare time beforehand. His wife’s soft voice and wishful eyes were more than enough to have Bradley’s heart melting. Hell, he’d hand in his resignation as soon as the plane landed if it meant he could spend some time with y/n.

“For you? Always, baby,” Bradley smiled and winked at y/n. The captain grinned and slipped back into the cockpit, looking forward to being back on the ground with her husband.

a/n: did anyone notice the Top Gun (1986) reference 👀? anyways, i hope u liked it! pls lmk what you think, i love reading ur comments & reblogs! :)

also!! i have a bit of a prequel for how rooster & pilot!reader met in the works. i'll finish it up & post it if anyone is interested :)

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine

4K notes · View notes

mechaknight-98 · 5 months

Text

Prey ft. Chuu (NSFW)

Author’s note: this is not my normal writing but this girl has been running circles in my brain all day and I hate it. Hopefully, this relieves some of that tension.

There’s nothing quite like the feeling of your cock sliding down an eager throat, but let’s not forget foreplay.

The bar you found yourself in after work was in three words lively, hip, and sexy the colors were like the people were bright and ready to let loose for the night. You sat at the bar finishing up a soju you had been nursing for a while as you wanted to pace yourself not make any hasty decisions tonight in pursuit of a good time. You were a little tipsy so with a bit of priming and prodding you could be persuaded into something reckless, and as if by magic in that moment, she appeared. Her pink bright hair soft eyes and cute smile were charming and (most importantly) disarming.

“Hi there. I don’t think I’ve seen you around before what’s your name.” The lady said to you.

“Oh, I’m y/n Kim.” You answer

“Oooh. I like that a nice strong name.” The girl flirts by touching your arm as she speaks. Her voice is cute and high pitched but there’s something off behind that honeyed tone she speaks in.

“Thanks. What’s your name,” You responded falling further and further into the spider’s web.

“Chuu.” She says with a smile before she does a biting heart hand sign. The name sets off alarms in your head but you don’t fully remember why. You remember a regular of the bar Zarpedon saying something about her but you couldn’t remember what it was.

“So how old are you Mr Kim?” Chuu asks you with bright eyes.

“Oh I’m *2 years older than Chua's current age*” you respond

“Oh, so you’re my Oppa?” Chuu says getting closer and closer. You can smell her perfume the scent overwhelmed your alcohol-addled mind. Chuu does her final move to obtain your heart and runs one dainty finger on your chest before saying “So oppa do you want to have some fun tonight?” Before kissing you. The kiss is short enough to leave you wanting more but long enough to leave you panting. Your head is dizzy and all you can think about is Chuu. You nod at Chuu’s question and race back to your place.

Before the door can even close Chuu is all over you kissing your neck, cheek, and lips. You break from a tense kiss for air, and you meet her gaze. She glares at you hungry gone is the cutie from the bar in her place a starving lioness who found you a helpless impala. She regains some composure putting on the cute look again. Your brain continues to fire off alarms. Something’s wrong, but you can’t figure it out. Before you can process Chu begins to strip and all reason goes out of your mind her sweater is the first thing to go and you notice she’s not wearing a bra. Chuu noticed your surprised look and said “I wanted to surprise you Oppa.” In her cute sing-song voice. It’s not long after she’s fully bare in front of you. You gawk for a few minutes processing before you hear

“Oppa it’s embarrassing being the only one naked. Caution again flees your mind as you begin to strip furiously to join her in undress. When you finish Chuu smiles as she looks at you “Oh Oppa is so BIG and it’s all for me,” she says seductively her voice lowering in pitch and tone you both walk to the couch where Chuu lowers herself bringing us back to where we started

The feeling when Chuu’s pouty lips part and your cock slides in is indescribable. Her throat is wet warm and welcoming. When Chuu bottoms out on you, she groans in ecstasy. You watch as her eyes roll into the back of her head before coming up for air. Her gaze is languid but also lustful. She smiles as she starts stroking your cock while staring at you. “Oppa I want you fuck me till I can’t walk anymore. Will you do that for me Oppa? I promise I’ll be a good girl. I promise I can take it. Chuu rasps her rational mind in pursuit of her basest desires. You groan before grabbing her cheeks and lifting her face to yours where you kiss again. Growing impatient Chuu begins to grind on your cock. Her tongue forces its way into your mouth as you both devour each other. You are now completely at Chuu’s mercy. As the two of you make out you can feel Chuu's pussy drip onto you. You groan and Chuu smiles.

“Put it in Oppa. Please put it in. Fuck me oppa.” Chuu pleads, and who are you to deny her? Your cock slides in her wet tight pussy as if it was made for her.

“Oh, Oppa you’re getting so deep. You fill me so well.” Chuu groans as she begins to bite your neck trying to release some of this tension in her body from the mind-breaking pleasure she feels. You begin to thrust into her and she begins to scream. Her body molds itself to you as you thrust.

“God Chuu you are so tight.” You gasp. Chuu smiles

“Fuck me oppa fuck your good girl” Chuu wails lost in her pleasure her petite but cute tits bounce mesmerizing you as does The rest of her body. How could someone so cute be so frisky you think to yourself but before long her body tenses and you feel her walls tighten even more as she yells “Oppa I’m cumming.” You keep thrusting into her regardless as you chase your high, but before you can join her Chuu stops

“Oppa give me a second.” She pleads. So you relent. Chuu smiles and just like that the sexy vixen is replaced by the cutesy girl at the bar from earlier. “Thanks, Oppa.” She says you still don’t have your cock buried deep in her cunt. Chuu pouts happily and says in her cute voice “So where will you fuck me next Oppa?” Chuu asks going back into her sexy raspy tone. You pick her up spurred on by her words and bend her over the sink before you’re thrusting into her velvety walls again. Chuu laughs as she teases “Oh Oppa is so strong.” She says with a smug grin as you thrust into her deeper and deeper but before you can reach your peak she stops you again. You groan

“Ahh you’re not being a good girl right now you say exacerbated

“But Oppa I want you to give me the biggest load possible.” Chuu whines. Unable to control yourself you grab the Petite girl and throw her to your bed where you begin pounding her. She smiles seeing you having lost all composure and control. You watch her as she screams you grab her tits as you pound the girl her smile grows with each thrust.

Having been on the edge long enough she watches you with the look of a lioness again before saying “Are you gonna cum Oppa?” you nod which sends her further down her third orgasm of the night “Cum with me Oppa.” Chuu screams as she tightens around your cock. Unable to fight back your release you begin to shoot rope after rope into her tight cunt it lasts for so long that you think that you'll never stop cumming in her but after a few minutes your release finally ends and you collapse next to Chuu who stares at you with that cute smile. “Was I a good girl Oppa?” she asks timidly. You nod and Chu nestles into you.

At some point, you fall asleep, but you wake up to see Chu with your cock Dow. Her throat again. Her eyes back to the lioness but you are no longer prey anymore. You growl at her a grab her face. Looks like it's going to be a long weekend.

#chuu loona #kpop fanfic #male reader #chuu smut #loona smut

279 notes · View notes

fatesundress · 10 months

Text

⭑ made with love. draco malfoy x reader

summary. it's winter, you’re sick, and draco is extremely rational a terrible, doting mess about it.

tags. fluff! so much fluff! married couple, gn!reader, lots of banter, post-hogwarts with one fleeting mention of the war, draco's anxiety is whetted by a common cold, he basically treats the reader like they hung the moon in the sky and also have the power to yank it down at any given moment. he's very grumpy. but so so in love.

note. my sweet anons!! i tried on three separate occasions to write the requests in my inbox but sometimes i need to be in the depths of hell (ovulation week) to manage smut. i'm sorry. i've made some progress i swear! but the draco hyperfixation came out of NOWHERE and unfortunately i had to indulge in it. also thank you so much for 200! :’)

word count. 1.6k

You are deplorable.

With a fever temperature of 40° and explicit instructions to stay in bed, you’re discernibly not in bed when he makes it home from the apothecary, a jumbled mess of the blankets he’d swathed you in left in your place. Your slippers are absent. Your slippers — in two feet of snow. Your coat is gone too, at least; ridiculously thick and unnecessarily long, though now he’s thankful for it.

Draco paces. Then he sets the Pepperup Elixir over a flame at his desk to keep warm, pours two drops of Sleeping Draught into a mug for your tea, and paces again.

He should have insisted on binding rings for your wedding, he thinks. Something to trace you in emergencies. There’s little to do without them as you’ve evidently either taken the Floo or Apparated, and, in truth, he can’t remember the last time he’s been this nervous. In school, perhaps? During the war? You have him comparing his nerves over a bad cold to those he felt during war. The insanity of that is actually not lost on him, if that counts for anything.

But you are deplorable, and his. His almost as much as he is maddeningly, irremediably yours.

How he allowed an aliment like this to infect him goes against all evolutionary sense. It’s a fever of its own. Incurable despite knowing its cause, and probably festering worse than yours.

And then the fireplace hisses and out you stumble with soot on one cheek and frost on the other, the neck of your coat zipped up to swallow half of your face. In an arm shoved deep in your pocket, a bag swings from the puffy coat crease of your elbow, and Draco baulks. It’s a muggle grocery bag — translucent enough that he can see the square imprint of your favourite sleepy-time tea, a chocolate bar, cans of what he thinks are soup, and — a lemon? Yes. A big miserable lemon that you’ve deigned was worth almost killing yourself over.

Draco does not hear whatever excuses escape your chattering teeth as he plucks your hand from its pocket, puts the bag down, pulls off your coat while you slap at his hands and insist you can do it yourself, and only because he thinks you’d hex him to oblivion if he tried, leads you with a hand on your back to the bedroom rather than hauling you into his arms and carrying you.

“A lemon,” he says, and is aware by the severity of his tone he might as well be saying a gun, or a missile, or a milk crate of Living Death cartons. “You forayed into a snowstorm for a lemon. Do you think I’m incapable of reading a grocery list? I just Flooed —”

“I got more than a lemon,” you huff in a weak voice.

It is appalling that that’s what you take from his admonishment.

Your snow-soaked slippers are tossed aside as you tumble into bed. Draco bundles you in blankets and holds his wand out to take your vitals. You roll your eyes all the while, but once the cold wears off he’s sure you’ll be burning hotter than you were this morning.

He shakes his head. “Lemons are common stock in apothecaries, you know. The shavings are essential in Weedosoros antidotes.”

“Yes, but they’re always so dry.”

“And chocolate — they sell it at Téa’s across the street for the magizoologists. Did you know that?”

“Hmph. No Cadbury, though.”

“And I’ve already warmed the Pepperup and poured you Sleeping Draught, despite your urgency for this —” He pulls the box of tea from your grocery bag, impressed with an image of a little bear with a red nightcap, a steaming cuppa, and a plate of biscuits — “Inarguably superior muggle panacea —”

“I never claimed it was a panacea —”

“Of which we should have distributed to St. Mungo’s en masse. In fact, I should owl them now so they’re informed the Sleeping Draughts are ineffective by comparison —”

“You’re insufferable —”

“Imagine all the orphans without rest —”

“Actually ridiculous —”

“You’re ridiculous. And I hate this bear. Look at his hat. Bloody Gryffindor.”

“Do you know what the wizarding world is lacking? — If you’re concerned enough to make a donation, Mr Malfoy?”

You think it’s hilarious to call him that. He does well not to mention you are, by law, also a Malfoy, and his money is your money to donate as you please.

“What is that?”

“Soup,” you say. “Canned soup — canned with love.”

“We are lacking soup canned with love,” Draco repeats, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be sure to write the Minister.”

“Do.”

“Only if you stay in bed.”

“Hmmm… mmmm… well. Hm.”

“Incorrigible,” he mumbles, brushing the damp from your face before getting up to fix your tea. (He kisses your cheek for good measure, big sop that he is. You do well not to mention it.) “Don’t move or I’ll cast wards on the fireplace.”

“Oh! Cast wards on the doors, too. I might go for a walk.”

He glares at you from the archway. Your answering laugh is broken by a coughing fit, and you look reluctantly glum when he raises a told-you-so brow.

Draco mutters about how ridiculous you are through the kitchen and back, as he steeps your tea, heats your soup, unstoppers the Pepperup Elixir, pours it in an old shot glass from a trip to Italy (you have no graduated plastic cups lying around), squeezes the big stupid lemon in your tea, carries it all to your bed on a tray and realises, still muttering, that these are a lot of steps. But Draco balances the tray without an utterance of magic. It’s rather impressive. You should be sorely sorry.

You are, instead, asleep.

You’re splayed across the bed like something Baroque, limbs fascinatingly posed: half under the blankets and half stubbornly poking out despite his fervent tucking, head nuzzled into the pillow with a slight frown. If Draco were any better with a camera he’d take a picture. Instead he takes careful steps to your bedside, placing the tray on the nightstand and sitting as close as he can manage without disturbing the (once more, revolutionary) arrangement of your legs. It feels criminal to wake you. His fretful anger that you’d gone out in the cold is whittled to a humiliatingly thin and empty husk, and all that remains is mushy adoration. Damn you for that; you look ridiculous anyhow.

Draco kisses your cheek again. Your nose. Your forehead. He traces an invisible portrait of your face with his fingers, as if he’s ever drawn anything better than nasty stick figures on crumpled parchment in school. You, though, he thinks he knows well enough by memory to try.

You stir, not too far from consciousness that it’s a challenge to find it again, but far enough to be audibly vexed by his summons to the surface.

Draco means to berate you in that way he's so good at — chin pointed and scowl permanently etched — but you grumble with a sick, hoarse voice and he falters in a pathetic display. “You forgot your love-suffused muggle soup,” he whispers, one hand cupping your cheek.

“Ugh.”

“Heinous, I know. Sit up for me?”

“Magic word.”

There’s his scowl. “Alohomora.”

“Not that magic word.”

“Imperio.”

“Unforgivables, Draco Malfoy?”

“Hmm, Locomotor Wibbly?”

You sink further into the bed, pulling the uppermost blanket over your head inch by inch.

“Please,” he says, with profound displeasure.

You sit up and smile.

Draco sighs and lays the legs of the tray out over your lap. You regard his service with sleepy content, one of your hands travelling to his face in what his heart surges to appreciate is an honest thanks after his several near-heart attacks, and then your gaze finds the medically expert Pepperup in an Italian shot glass and it falls.

You groan. “Draco…”

His name says, quite plainly, please don’t make me.

Draco has enough self-respect to at least deny you this. “Wards.”

That says, quite plainly, I was not joking about the fireplace.

You look as though you’re contemplating the severity of two horrors, but it passes fleetingly, with one curse under your breath and a sour expression as you down the shot of Pepperup like… a shot. Burning Ogden’s that scrunches your face up until you shake it away with a blagh noise.

Come to think of it, Draco's choice of glass is much more appropriate than some medical cup.

“Better?”

You shudder. “I will be.”

“Good. Have your love soup and stupid lemons.”

And then, when he isn’t expecting it, your hot palm finds the place it left off; Draco’s healthily warm, sharp cheek, the soft fuzz of hair beside his ears before your fingers card through the longer strands and you hum like he’s your favourite thing to hold onto.

He melts, eyes fluttering shut. You’re sick, and wholeheartedly deplorable, but you’re safe, and it’ll be alright.

“Draco?”

“Mm.”

“The soup.”

He opens his eyes. “The soup?”

“You know it was canned with love.”

“I trust you wouldn’t have bought it otherwise.”

“And,” you say, thumb flush over his bottom lip as you smile a groggy, self-satisfied smile, “it was made with love, too, right?”

He rolls his eyes, and kisses you nonetheless. “You never cease to ask absurd questions.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

822 notes · View notes

eyesxxyou · 4 months

Text

❝ all mine ❞

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. ex!hobie, you cheat on miguel, mentions of fighting, highkey toxic relationship, mentions of sex, hobie being a little shit trying to get you back. you made your decision, thought things were over between you and hobie brown for good. but was your decision really the right one?

wc: 3.3k

You shouldn't be here.

You know you shouldn't be here but you knew he loved this place in all its shitty, humid glory. You knew he'd be here. You couldn't help yourself. Something within the pit of your gut told you to get up and find your way here the moment you saw that post with a caption talking about him stopping by his old haunts before he left the country...leaving you and everything you both once held dear to find a new adventure. Something deep and carnal, something you thought had long died the moment you decided that he was becoming too much; too insatiable, too unpredictable. What you had once loved had become a burden you could no longer handle.

He texted you too. Just seconds after making the most.

'We should catch up.'

So why did you come here? Why did you seek him out?

Maybe you didn't. Maybe you simply wanted to take in this place one last time before he went, revive some long-buried memories you had stored away for your own sanity. Maybe you were seeking closure, the stitches to a wound left fresh and gaping so you could return to your adoring boyfriend at home with a heart that didn't belong to him. He'd play it off like he had it the whole time, place it under his pillow with another man's name carved into the flesh.

It hurt. The way Miguel gave you his all and you couldn't return such affections. He was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. He was sweet, attentive to your needs, had generally the same core values as you. He was the safe bet, the type who wouldn't make plans last second without a hint of rational thought and just hope that they end well. Maybe you got with Miguel — his overplanning self — to compensate for your ex's utter disregard and borderline carelessness. He was impulsive, just looking for the next high to make him feel alive.

But you had been his partner in crime. He was ready to do it all with you.

"___, long time no see. How have you been?" The bartender greets her like an old friend. He's an older man, seen all of your shenanigans with your ex. Had to kick the two of you out a couple of times but almost always welcomed the two of you back the next time you came around. It's been a little over a year now. He had seen you two argue more times than he could count on both hands but no fight seemed as permanent as the final one. You'd fight, stop talking for a few days until one of you came back to apologize and the routine act of make-up sex would commence.

You shrugged with a sigh, glancing vaguely around the dimmed bar as if trying to catch sight of something. Everything was just the same. Nothing changed. Your picture was still hanging up behind the bar along with a dozen others. You two were kissing. He held your waist, hands under your shirt as he held you close. Your fingers were splayed across his cheeks as you held his face, a hint of a smile against his lips as he kissed you. You two were drunk off your asses that night, nearly drunk the whole bar, passed out right where you're sitting. The picture of the two of you sleeping with your faces smushed against the bar was right next to the picture of you kissing.

"Oh- I've been fine. Y'know just...living life." You sighed, tracing your finger in imaginary shapes across the splintered wood. "You remember my usual?" You offer a smile and he returns in. "Of course, darlin'. Just give me a moment." His smile was old and worn but warm. "I haven't seen Hobie yet…if you're here for him." He grabs a glass, places a single ice cube inside of it.

You find your shoulders tensing in defense but you don't deny anything. You know he'd see right through your farce. It's no coincidence you decided to take a stroll down memory lane the same night your ex happens to be in town in the very place you knew he was likely to be. But you don't confirm his suspicions. Plausible deniability and all that. Silence befalls you as you watch him mix your cocktail and slide it down the way toward you. All with a little cherry on top.

Hobie used to pluck the cherry by the stem from your drink. He'd hold it to your lips and have you eat the cherry whole. Then he'd kiss you. He'd take the stem from your tongue and tie it against yours. He was always so good with his tongue, tracing hearts across your skin as he made his way down your naval.

You reached into your bag to pull out your card — or rather — the card Miguel had lent you to use. He was sweet like that; gave you his card when you went out. Kissed you softly and told you to have fun when you claim you were going out with friends. He trusted you with unwavering solitude. His confidence in your loyalty and faithfulness was something you didn't deserve.

You know it when a hand comes to drop a bill on the counter before you can take the honors.

"When have I ever let’cha pay for a drink, doll?" His voice sends shivers down your spine. Over a year and it's like you were never separated. Every muscle, even molecule, every atom in your body still gravitated towards him like a magnet. He was the negative to your positive, the moon to your sun. Something just clicked into place and you aren't exactly sure what it is but it makes you feel complete once more.

He takes a seat stool covered in cracking leather starting to reveal the beige foam padding underneath. He looks different yet exactly as you had left him. His hair was still full and wild and beautiful. The rest was just the same. Same soft, droopy eyes that disappear when he smiles. Lovely, broad nose, and his lips. Oh– his lips were something otherworldly. They looked just as soft as when they last met yours, when they last pulled back to reveal teeth that sank into your skin. Lips that once murmured "I love you" and whispered false promises of the future you've always dreamed of. You and him with a baby, a family of your own. He promised he'd give that to you but you knew better than to trust the sweetened lies that passed by his lips. Hobie wasn't the type so settle in one place, live somewhere quiet and quaint and start a family.

Hobie stared at you as if you were simply a memory he had reconstructed before his own eyes. A gaze soft and tender yet the lopsided smile displayed across his lips told a different story. He was certainly happy to see you, that some part of you still belonged to him, still sought him out given the chance. "___." He saw the way you flinched, turned away from him so maybe he wouldn't catch the longing in your eyes. You missed him more than you should. You shouldn't be here. "Hobie."

"Oh...don' be so tense, sweetheart." Hobie scoffed with careless dismissal. He reached out, a hand on top of yours to soothe your nerves. "Yer a sight for sore eyes. I's amazing to see ya again." Better to simply let things be. He'd never have hard feelings for you, no matter the bad your fights had gotten. You had left him abruptly, cut your ties to him with brutal efficiency in the heat of the moment. Hobie figured that was the end of it, no use in trying to get a deaf person to hear reason.

"Stephen," Hobie spoke to the bartender. "Beer, please." He slid the bartender his 20 and in passing, caught a glimpse of the card you had tossed out. "Miguel...tha’cha new boyfriend?" You try to search for some semblance of jealousy somewhere in his misty eyes or across his sculpted features but there was none. He just awaited your answer, maybe to figure out what reaction he'd have to that. Funny...he was always the type to assume first and ask questions later.

"Yeah."

"Good for you, dove. Wha’s he like? Are ya happy wit’ ‘im?" There could have very well been jealousy somewhere in the heart of his, residual possessiveness he still hasn't gotten rid of. But maybe there was a part of him that just wanted to be assured that you were okay. As...terribly complicated and sometimes toxic as Hobie and your relationship with him was. Neither of you ever wished ill on each other no mater the circumstance. Even when you left, when you packed your bags and told him to go fuck himself. You never meant the things you said. You both knew it.

Are you happy with Miguel? You felt that you should be. He's everything you wanted on paper, everything that Hobie wasn't. But that's just it, isn't it? He isn't Hobie. He doesn't get that wild look in his eyes when he gets an idea. He doesn't make haphazard plans with no regard for consequences. Hobie lives in the moment. Miguel lives for a future that isn't guaranteed.

Hobie knows you too well. He sees the way you hesitate with your answer and speaks again. "I just wanna make sure my girl is being well taken care of." You realize that he doesn't give any indication of being jealous because he knows you still belong to him. He's not threatened by Miguel because if you were truly as devoted and loyal to him as you were to Hobie, you wouldn't be here. Wouldn't have even thought of coming.

You sip softly on your drink before the ice can start to melt, snatching up the card from the counter to place it back in your bag. "Because you took such great care of me."

"I took amazin’ care of ya and ya know it." Hobie had his drink in his hand before he knew it. A quick nod to Stephen in appreciation before the man walked away to give them time alone. "I took care of you, dolli." He whispered softly, gripping the bottle neck with his long, slender fingers. "Don't lie."

"You didn't care about anyone but yourself, Hobie."

"Can we not, righ’ now?" He murmured, pressing the rim to his lips to take a sip. "I came back to catch up wit’ ya, not spark another argument. And tha's not true. I care ‘bout’cha more than anyone." You take note to how he says it in the present tense. He cares about you, not cared.

You sigh, lips pursing against your crytaline glass. "Fine. How has traveling been?" You won't open that can of worms. Problems that went unsolved will remain as such. Maybe it was intentional. Neither of you would be able to find closure and move on if such wounds remained open and untreated. It was intentional on both ends. You weren't ready to let go, even if the pain still remained.

"Incredibly lonely, actually." He admitted, the whisper of a woeful smile crossing the lips you had once adored so much. "Not much fun when you have no one t’share it with." You two had always talked about traveling the world together. Paris, Rome, Tokyo, anywhere your fickle hearts desired.

Sometimes you'd lay awake at night, your head resting upon Miguel's chest, and wonder what life might have been like if you had left with Hobie. Where you might have been and who you might have been if you had simply gone off with him. He had tried to get you to go. Showed up on your doorstep with the keys to his boat and a plan to sail down the English Canal to France, professed his love to you and begged you to come with him. Leave your whole life behind and just start anew like it was just that easy.

Maybe it was that easy.

"Paris was nice but i’ would have been even better with you. So would Barcelona and Rome. 'm going to Berlin next. Leaving early tomorrow. ‘m sure tha’ll be lonely too." You know his bed has been kept quite warm no doubt with men and women and everyone in between alike. The thought makes you sick, green with jealousy. He was yours before he was anyone else's. You wanted to mark him, litter his throat with teeth marks and hickeys so that whoever had the honor of having him would know that he was already owned.

Yet, he claimed he was lonely. He wanted you. He only wanted you. Why else would he have come back? It wasn't just for the shits and giggles or trying to "catch up". Hobie wanted you to go with him though he wouldn't say that outright.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you before Hobie spoke again. "It wasn't all that bad, was it? To you at least? We had our downs but we had way more ups." He nudged you softly with one of those smiles that made your heart flutter and skip vital beats. You thought you just might die if he moved any closer to you.

"If by downs you mean telling each other to go to hell and me nearly throwing a vase at your head then sure, we've had our downs." You aren't proud of some of the things you've done...of a lot of the things you've done. You aren't proud that you're here and not at home, reading Miguel's sweet message of goodnight accompanied by a picture of him in bed. "Please do tell me what our ups were."

"Oh, we've had plenty. ‘m so disappoin’ed you've forgotten so easily." Hobie places a hand on his chest with an exaggerated offense. "Am I really tha’ forgettable?"

No. You wanted to say with quick, biting passion. Hobie was the least forgettable person you've ever met in all aspects. But you don't give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "I don't know, Bee. Maybe I'm in need of a reminder." Now you've gone into flirting with him and you didn't feel bad about it in the slightest. How can you feel bad as Hobie downs the rest of his drink and stands up with the prettiest grin you've ever seen in your life? The same mischievous grin he got when a new idea was sparked in that brilliantly dangerous mind of his. He takes your hand and drags you off of your stool. You stumble along with him, his hand tightly secured around yours as he takes you to the middle of the bar.

You remember this. You remember him putting coins in the old jukebox to play your song, quickly returning to you to take you up into his arms. Your right hand in his left while his right came around to rest of the small of your back. He'd pull you close, smiling with wild joy and youth and the two of you would dance however you so chose.

You missed him. God, you missed him and you hated it. You hated how he touched you with such familiarity. Knew you better than anyone else in the world. You hated that he kissed the corner of your lips and you did nothing to stop him. You hated that you knew this was a ploy to get you back and how you hoped that feelings could override the logical part of your mind and you could convince yourself to go back.

"Is this reminder enough for ya?" He leaned in and whispered into your ear, swaying carefully with you in his hold. Your lips are pressed to his shoulder and you can smell the cologne he had put on just for you, your favorite. He's wearing the shirt and vest you said looks best on him and the jeans you said you liked the very most on him. And of course, the boots he never goes anywhere without. Pulling out all the stops.

It's more than enough, yet, you play coy. "Vaguely."

Hobie likes it when you play coy. You hear him sigh slowly into your ear. "Ya remember the time when I made you miss tha’ flight to go see your parents for the holidays?" He spent nearly an hour between your legs, ravishing your body with orgasm after orgasm until your thighs were trembling around his head. "Or when we got that bottle of champagne and you let me pour it on you." Then he proceeded to lick it up from your diaphragm and naval. "Open." He had muttered and, on command, your mouth had opened up and you let him pour champagne into your mouth.

"Hobie." Your tone warns him but he's quick to bite. "What? Too many good memories?"

"I have a boyfriend."

"Then why are you here, ___?" He snaps maybe with a bit of unnecessary harshness. It's all too easy for the two of your to start arguments. "If ya love yer new boyfriend so fuckin’ much then why are ya here to see me?"

You look away in shame because you know he's right. Your heart hasn't beat this fast since the last time you saw Hobie. It almost feels like it hasn't even moved since then. He left a vacant hole in your chest, took your heart with him but it was an even exchange in his opinion because he left his with you to fill the space he left behind.

Two fingers are on your chin and your face is being brought back to his. It takes you by surprise, how quickly he kisses you. His lips are just as soft as you remembered and even softer than they look. They still taste like mint and a touch of beer. You can tell he's been dying to do this since the moment he saw you and you can't say that you didn't want to either. You melt into him, let him have his way because you want his way too.

"All mine." He whispers, lips hovering over yours before he dove back in. All his. His hand once in yours now comes around the back of your neck to draw you closer. It was home. This was all you've been waiting for for months upon months, maybe waiting for him to come back for you. Well- he has and you still don't have your answer. But Hobie's always been rather good at persuading you, his tongue gently stroking over yours to coax you to agree.

"Come back t’my boat." He attempts to get you to say a small yes now. A frog in a pot of water. He was just starting to crank up the heat.

"You know I can't." You manage to say between muffled kisses. Hobie remains persistent. "Of course, ya can, dove. 'm not asking ya to do backflips all the way there, jus’ come with me." That's how it started. Come with me to the dock, get on the boat, sail away with me. Next thing you know you're in a whole nother country. His voice was so sweet though. It's always been his secret weapon, whispering in your ear with that slight airy tease in his tone.

"Come with me...just for tonight." The two of you still swayed together to the rhythm of the song as it slowly began to come to an end. Between gentle pecks from his pillow-y lips to yours, he kept staring at you, begging you to cave just this one time. But it's never just the one time with him. You know this. You know it won't just stop with this. It's why you left. He had too much power, could make you do anything short of killing someone with enough charm. Look how easily you feel back in.

"Okay...just for tonight.”

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman #atsv #hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown fic #spiderman across the spiderverse #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader smut #hobie x black!reader #hobie x reader #Spotify

258 notes · View notes

moris-auri · 1 month

Text

I can't steal you (like you stole me) - part 1

dividers by @arcielee and @saradika

Summary: Spiraling after an argument with her husband, a chance encounter with a stranger shows her just what she was missing… and what she wants.

A/N; my first Tom Bennett fic so please be kind ❤️

masterlist

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: 18+/Minors DNI, smut, implied PTSD, later mentions of malnutrition and war

15 February 1940

In all the years she's frequented the Minerva Inn, she's never seen it as it is now, a hive of activity and growing more crowded by the minute. Almost every inch of the pub is filled to the brim, the moods of the people who called Plymouth home buoyant and lively, a result of the arrival of the HMS Exeter that had come into port hours earlier, casting a shadow like a great iron gray stain against the blue of the sky.

As her gaze roamed over the gathered people, she mulled over how it was almost too easy to forget the war beyond its walls. The second Great War, the Daily Telegraph had taken to calling it. She remembered it as clear as if it were yesterday, the Sunday that had been like any other. How she had barely stepped one foot inside after hanging the linens up did the crackle of the little radio on the table get louder, Chamberlain's voice resonating throughout the space.

This country is at war with Germany.

It had looped inside her head for days after- as it had for others, she knew without a doubt, almost everyone she had encountered going about their life as best they could, herself included. And when her husband had come home, the day after the booklets for rationing of certain foods had been handed around a month ago, did the inkling that had been a nagging thought in the back of her mind for weeks finally reached a head.

She was unashamedly grateful for it though, the distraction it brought, half afraid to even think what her thoughts would be if she had been locked within a room alone, overflowing inside her brain like water sloshing over the rim of a bucket.

"Another drink, dearest?"

She stilled, startled and caught off guard by the question as a shadow darkened the wood of the bar before her. She raised her head, the tension in her back lessening at the sight of the warmth in Mary's eyes as she met the older woman's gaze. She cleared her throat, letting her gaze drop to the glass in her hands, mulling over it silently. Did she?

The sensible side of her protested against it vehemently, feeling the buzz under her skin, the sensation not unlike a hive of bees. She began to gnaw at her lip, staring at her fingers as she thought it over.

"I shouldn't-" She said, swallowing the lump in her throat, feeling the alcohol burn a path like fire as she drained the glass, the sound of her hair sliding over the shoulders of her blouse filling her ears. "Actually, I would. Thank you, Mary."

Mary only hummed in response, casting a pointed look her way before turning her back to refill the glass without another word. For as long as she could remember, the older woman had been a fixture in this place, full of memories that were equal parts good and bad. Memories of coming here as a girl, hand in hand with her mother or her father. As a teenager with other girls from her school. As a new bride in white, feeling like she was floating on a cloud and full of joy, a smile stretching her lips ear to ear.

She murmured a quiet "thank you" when it was set in front of her, extending a finger out to swirl it over the rim, her shoulders dropping as she let out a sigh, the memories of the events of the past several hours rushing back.

The shouting had been the worst part. Nearly as loud as it was unpleasant, she had wished nothing more for it to end, feeling the anger thrumming under her skin as she forced herself to stand still, voice hoarse, listening to every word that had left her husband's mouth.

A part of her mourned who he had been before everything had gone downhill the day the declaration of war crackled across every radio from Plymouth to Dartmouth and beyond, the news changing them both in more ways than one. It had felt like he had turned into an entirely different person after that, growing more withdrawn and surly with each day that went by, leaving her with the feeling that she was walking on eggshells around him.

It had reached a near boiling point that morning- the details of whatever had set him off then having long since escaped her. "I can't go back there. Not now at least." She said quietly, lifting a hand to push her hair back, feeling the drops of condensation from the glass that had clung to her fingertips land in her hair.

Mary clucked her tongue in sympathy, setting down the pint glass she had been cleaning. "Have you got somewhere to stay?"

"I'll figure something out. I always do," she responded, smiling weakly.

"That you do," Mary agreed, patting her hand. "You're a good girl. Though I'd be more than chuffed to give him a piece of my mind."

She huffed a laugh at that, pressing the back of one hand to her mouth in an effort to stifle it, not that it did much good. "Oh, Mary…" She'd never felt more fond for the woman in front of her than she did at that moment. "Now enough about me-"

She started to speak, only to be cut off by the sound of someone coming closer on her left, the thump of a bag being set on the floor following barely a second later. "A pint for me, thanks."

Mary's attention shifted from her to the newcomer at that, barely wasting a moment before turning her back to them to fill a glass. She vaguely heard the music change, the not quite upbeat tune fading to a softer one, broken by the sound of the wood of the bar creaking as the stranger beside her rested his elbows atop the surface.

Her eye flicked in his direction, eyeing him warily as he turned his head to the side, the point of his chin all but digging into his shoulder.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She pressed her lips together, feeling her cheeks heat as a quicksilver flash of irritation raced through her. Her skirt flared around her knees as she twisted, the heels of her shoes clicking on the worn flagstones. "Excuse me?"

The man turned, one hand hovering inches away from the pint glass, his other hanging at his side. Her lips parted involuntarily when he was face to face with her fully, and she couldn't help but note that he was pretty, startlingly so. His profile was unlike anything she'd ever seen, seemingly to be constructed of chisel sharp edges. Her eyes moved over his face, drifting over the bright shade of his blue eyes, to the beaten gold of his hair beneath the cap before landing on the fading bruise that sat high on his left cheekbone, nearly blending into his skin.

His mouth twitched, one corner lifting higher than the other as he grinned at her, crow's feet forming in the corner of his eyes. "Cat got your tongue?"

A cocky one then.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she spared him another glance before turning away. "Think you're funny, do you?" She had only lifted her glass to her mouth before she felt him shift closer, felt the heat seeping through his clothes.

"Hey now, I didn't mean it like that-'' he protested. His hand brushed across her arm, a layer of goosebumps forming as a response., and a ringing rose in her ears, all but drowning out every other sound.

She rested one elbow on the surface, the wood cool under her skin as she met his eyes again, his accent catching her attention almost instantly. "You're a Manchester boy, aren't you?" She couldn't help but ask him, her interest piqued. Anger still simmered under her skin, though not quite as potent as it had been.

His eyes narrowed immediately, her words seeming to strike a nerve in him. A vein ticked in his jaw, the expression on his face turning unreadable. "So what if I am? You've got a problem with that?" He asked, his tone bordering on defensive.

"You're a long way from home, is all," she responded, shaking her head amusedly. "Plymouth is hours from Manchester."

"My ship's docked for repairs."

"Ah." She made a sound of understanding in her throat. "You're one of the Exeter boys, then." she said, watching him reach for the pint, throat working as he swallowed. His diverted attention gave her the opportunity to take in his clothes, eyes moving over the standard twilight dark shade of blue of his uniform.

His upper lip twitched at the statement. "I am."

"What was it like? That fight you were in? Battle of the River Plate, I believe?" she asked, leaning closer to him. "I remember hearing about it on the radio."

The words died on her lips when his gaze lowered, settling blankly on some point over her shoulder, his expression shifting to something that was almost haunted. A shadow seemed to settle over his face, all but snuffing out any trace of the person she had been talking to only seconds before.

"If you don't-" she laid a hand on his arm, feeling a fool for asking. His gaze rose to her face again, the weight of whatever lurked behind his eyes making her pause, her breath stilling in her lungs. He blinked, once then twice, the movement rapid enough for her to almost miss it.

He let out a low chuckle, the bitter tone to it contrasting with the grin that formed on his lips. "It was fucked," he said finally, and she could see his tongue drag across his teeth left to right behind his lip. "It was fucked," he repeated, not tearing his eyes away from her own. "Seeing them like that-"

He shook his head suddenly, the movement making a strand of hair fall, brushing across his forehead, and she was hit then by the sudden urge to brush it back.

She bit her lip, suddenly desperate to change the subject. "What's your name?"

"Tom," he said, and she was almost sure he was thankful for it. She hoped he was, at least. "Tom Bennett."

She glanced down at the hand he stuck out, hesitating but a moment before taking it. She fought the urge to shiver as she did. The calluses on his palm rasped against her skin, warmth from his hand seeping into hers. He- no, Tom, met her gaze again, and she realized belatedly he had yet to drop her hand. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, reaching for her drink and savoring the burn of the alcohol.

As the night wore on, they talked, time seeming to stop as she sat beside him, the bar surface before them littered with several empty glasses. Loathsome as she was to admit it, talking to him felt effortless in a way, words flowing from the both of them easily. A part of her, half guilt and half longing for something, wondered what it'd be like to kiss him; to press her lips to his and feel the heat of him flush against her.

Her head lifted at the sound of the chiming of the clock on the wall, gaze finding the hands of it showing 11 pm. "I should be going," she murmured, shaking her fingers slightly, fighting the urge to sigh when he let go.

"I could show you a good time, you know," he said as he half leaned against the bar.

Half scandalized, she blinked, craning her head back to stare up at him, stumbling slightly as she stood, sucking in a breath when his hand shot out, clasping her elbow loosely. She all but ignored the warning look in Mary's eyes, feeling almost drunk on the alcohol coursing through her veins and the weight of his attention. "Tell you what," she exhaled, laying her hand on his arm, the material of his uniform coarse under her fingers. "If you're still here tomorrow, I'll find you."

Her hand fell back to her side when Tom shifted, standing to full height. He seemed to fill the space, towering over her, the grin on his face making her heartbeat jump. Something fluttered in her belly at the sight of it. "Is that a promise, then?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Unable to resist, her eyes flicked to his mouth, the thump of her heartbeat echoing in her ears.

She dropped her hand without another word, all but darting around him and making her way towards the door, putting as much distance between them as she could, feeling the weight of his gaze on her back as she moved toward the door on half unsteady feet, a gust of cold February air greeting her as she stepped onto the street.

She tipped her head back against the wall of the pub as she exhaled a breath, rifling through her purse for a light, the orange reddish glow of it casting a warm hue over her face, watching the smoke from the cigarette she held loosely between her fingers wafting higher and higher into the night sky.

#my fics #world on fire #tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett x you #tom bennet x reader #world on fire fic #tom bennett smut

111 notes · View notes

dustofthedailylife · 1 year

Text

Lost And Found

-> Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Welt x (gn!) Reader

Summary: You meet your old childhood friend and crush again unexpectedly and feelings you thought you had long forgotten begin to resurface.

Tags: Fluff, Jarilo-VI story spoilers, childhood friends to lovers, Reader is implied to have known Welt when they were still young so they're about the same age here

A/N: I am on my knees begging for Welt to come home, and he refuses to come home, so I'm offering this fic as a sacrifice to the gacha gods. This is also my first HSR fic! Jing Yuan will probably be the next one I write something for... he is living rent-free in my head atm :3

You were standing in line at the street kiosk for a coffee-to-go and a granola bar. Like every morning before you headed to work. Or whatever your work was, now that the Stellaron was gone. There already had been a huge amount of layoffs lately and you expected that it wouldn’t be long anymore until they would lay you off as well.

It was cold today, nothing unusual on Jarilo-VI, but you felt like it had gotten warmer, even if it was still very minuscule and barely noticeable.

One glance at today’s newspaper revealed yet another Stellaron headline. Nothing surprising.

Silvermane Guards push back on the Stellaron Corruption further. Supreme Guardian Bronya supports the underground with the delivery of rations and supplies.

You heard some strangers from afar had come here and managed to achieve, within a bit more than a week, what people on this planet failed to do for hundreds of years. Something you failed to help with as well, despite coming here for research on the topic yourself.

“Good morning!” The barista greeted you. “The usual?”

“The usual. Thank you.” You nodded with an honest smile.

Once served and paid, you clutched your hands around the cup to warm your hands on the steaming hot liquid.

The brew here could hardly be called coffee when comparing it to the one on Earth, but for what it was worth it made do. All it needed to achieve was giving you a small energy boost and some warmth after all.

Walking further down the street you spotted a lot of new faces. Ever since you’ve been here the underground had been sealed, now that it was back open it was definitely great to see the streets bustling with life again. It gave you hope that things would finally take a turn for the better on this planet.

Maybe that meant it was time for you to leave soon as well. You had no concrete plans on where to go next yet. But essentially as always, you’d just go wherever the stars would carry you.

Lost in thought you didn’t notice how the person in front of you had stopped walking, causing you to bump into them and spill the entire cup of your tastebud-offending coffee over their coat and yourself.

Just fantastic.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. It was my bad, I should have–”

You frantically took out a handkerchief and tried to dry the clothes of the man in front of you, until he suddenly took hold of your hand, forcing you to halt your ministrations.

At that moment he questioningly called your name.

Startled by the strange yet familiar voice, you flicked your eyes up to the face of the man you had just run into. And without a shadow of a doubt; it was him.

His friendly brown eyes still exuded the same comforting warmth as they did all those years ago. Something you thought you’d never see again in this lifetime. Not after he left Earth.

“Welt?” You carefully inquired despite being sure that the man standing in front of you was him. Your childhood best friend. The boy you had the biggest, most mind-numbing, and toe-curling crush on back in the day.

“So it really is you!” He huffed in disbelief with a wide smile and an excited sparkle in his eyes. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Neither did I after you left…”

You paused for a moment to take in his features. He had become old, without a doubt, but he was still as handsome as you remembered. You dare say, it made him look even more handsome than he already was back in the day. Maturity certainly suited him.

“Let's get you a new coffee, shall we?” He points out after both you and he just stared at each other for what felt like an eternity without uttering a word.

"Oh, uh. There is no need. It was my own fault for not paying attention and bumping into you.."

"Please, I insist! Even if it’s just for old times' sake. Although you might have to lead me to a Café since I'm unfamiliar with this city. If you still wish to take me with you in my coffee-stained state, that is…"

He looked at the mess on both his and your clothes before laughing.

But who were you to say no to an old friend? Who, after all this time, still seemed to effortlessly make your heart beat an octave higher.

"I have to warn you though. Don't expect too much from the coffee here. It tastes like hot dishwater at best."

"Well, maybe I like dishwater if I can enjoy it with an old friend?"

After you arrived at one of your favorite Cafés, he led you to one of the tables and pulled out a chair for you, waiting until you sat down. Flustered by the chivalrous gesture you avoided eye contact and waited until he sat down as well before looking at his face again.

Soon after, the conversation with him just kept flowing and it felt as if you hadn't been apart for even a day. Talking to him felt as natural and calming as you remember it. At the same time, it made you painfully aware of how much you had actually missed him.

"Hey, that reminds me, I haven't even asked yet, but what brings you here?"

"Oh, right. My crew and I were responsible for the Stellaron incident." He explained.

Figures. You could've expected that it was him who was responsible for resolving the crisis on this planet the moment you found him again.

“I’m not surprised.” You chuckled. “You mentioned a crew?”

“Yes. We travel together on the Astral Express to planets with Stellaron activity.”

“So you’re essentially the Guardians of the Galaxy?” You joke.

“Something like that.” He laughed as the corner of his eyes crinkled upwards. “Travelling feels great again. When Himeko found me–”

“Himeko?” You inquired a bit too quickly as soon as you felt a pang in your chest when he dropped the name. You tried to stop yourself from doing so but it seemed like finding your old friend again made feelings resurface you thought you had long buried and forgotten. Of course, he too had moved on with his life after so long. It would’ve surprised you if he wouldn’t have found a partner, especially with how handsome he was and still is.

“Is she your wife?” You carefully speculated while trying your hardest not to look hurt by the consideration that she might be.

“Who? Himeko? No… god, no. We’re just colleagues. Friends at most.”

A wave of relief washed over you. Was it stupid to be relieved that he wasn’t in any relationship just for your own selfish reasons? Most likely. It’s not like he’d stay here with you or take you with him all of a sudden. And you shouldn’t expect him to do so either.

Your subconscious feelings were hard to suppress though. No matter how hard you tried.

“What can I get you two lovebirds?” The waitress asked when she arrived at your table with a sweet smile.

“Oh, uh, we’re not–”

“I’ll take just a normal cup of coffee. Black, two pieces of sugar please.” Welt interrupted entirely unphased and not in any rush to correct the waitress about her wrong assumption of your relationship status. He smiled and threw you a glance out of the corner of his eyes as he spoke, seemingly amused by your probably undeniably flustered state.

With a heavily beating heart, you simply ordered the same as him while trying not to sound too out of breath. Not that you were capable of thinking about coffee when your mind was racing at the speed of light.

“I haven’t had the chance to tell you yet, that you look just as stunning as I remember.” He complimented as soon as the two were back alone.

Was he trying to kill you?

“Oh, uhm.” You cleared your throat, feeling how your face had started to burn up. “Thank you. I could say the same about you.”

The wait for your coffee would be excruciatingly slow at this rate. Where were you supposed to look or what were you supposed to say now?

Every ability to converse like a normal human being flew right out the window the moment he complimented you. Lucky for you he seemed to have enough to talk about, so he kept the conversation flowing by telling you about what he had been up to since you last saw each other.

“Anyway, that’s enough about me. What have you been up to all this time?”, he asked as soon as the waitress served your coffee.

“Oh… I actually came here for the Stellaron myself, so I’m basically jobless now thanks to you and your crew.” You chuckled as you took a sip from the coffee. The dark brown bitter liquid enveloped your tastebuds and made you cringe for a brief moment. You would never get used to the dishwater they dare to call coffee here.

“I’ll have to see where I’ll go now. I have no concrete plans or goals. But probably trying to find another planet that might need my help.” You ascertained after a brief pause.

“Why don’t you come with us?”

Taken aback by the unexpected and sudden proposal you started choking on your coffee as soon as he had finished speaking. Despite the butterflies that made themselves known in the pit of your stomach you couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. Simultaneously feeling both hope and old feelings started to bloom inside of your chest once more.

“I’m sorry. I know it might be quite a rash proposal. But it seems we share the same ideals and I thought you would be a great addition to the crew.” He paused and took a sip from his cup, awaiting your answer.

“I–I… Okay. Yeah, sure. I’ll come with you.” You reply which elicited a smile and, what you assumed was, a quiet sigh of relief from him.

“I’m glad. There is so much I still wish to tell you.”

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #welt x reader #hsr fluff #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #hsr drabbles #hsr imagines #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 hsr

508 notes · View notes

gojou-violin · 1 year

Text

a reward for a puppy

☽ 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝐸𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 ☾

| pairing: puppy!denji x mommy!reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI petplay, collar/leash, deep sub space, gentle mommy dommy vibes, jerking denji off, lots of cuteness and my attempt at aftercare cuz cuddles are my love language ok.

| wc: 3.4k

| taglist: @venusflytrapstar , @aylitgirl , @thisbicc

| a/n: bro, venus put in the WORK helping me get on track with this fic. thank you for your help, love <3

Your heart could pop out of your chest at any minute. Truly. It was hard to look at Denji and not want to absolutely pass out just by thinking about how cute and precious he was.

You weren’t exactly sure about everything that happened to Denji before you met him, but over the year or so that you had been taking care of him, you’d come to put some pieces together, like how he lost his best friends, how he was scared of women because of how he had been used before. That was the worst pill to swallow in your opinion. Someone out there had truly done a number on him. The Denji you knew now was different from the one you took in when you found him drunkenly wandering alone between bars that he was getting kicked out of because he couldn’t afford to close out his tabs. You knew that she was the reason. Whoever she was, she was responsible for Denji ending up alone on the streets for a couple of years. She was responsible for the way he tried to run away from you. She was responsible for the way he was always wary of your every move because kindness always seemed to be at a cost for him— But it wasn’t for you.

To you, taking care of Denji was the best thing in the world. He was such a quiet and gentle person who couldn’t take care of himself all too well. Yes, he managed to survive on the streets for as long as he did; and, yes, he had that Devil inside of him to keep him safe; but it was different when he trusted too easily or not at all. He was like a lost puppy. He just needed someone to guide him and make him feel safe, and to support him so that he could live life to the fullest while being genuinely happy.

Denji had the cutest obsession with your body. It took some time for him to warm up to you, of course, nothing happened overnight— But once he was comfortable around you, he started snuggling up to your side, testing the waters to see how much he could get away with. Eventually, laying next you turned into him putting his head on your lap. Him resting his head on your shoulder turned into him resting his head on your chest— He loved to hide his face there when he was scared or bored. And when he was sleeping, he started laying down between your legs instead of on your lap. He specifically liked it when he was between your knees, on his stomach, his arms wrapped around your torso, his face on your chest, your hands in his hair or massaging his back, and your lips kissing the top of his head. When you were watching TV, Denji liked to be between your legs, but with his back pressed against your stomach. Both of you felt so relaxed like that. Every time. It was wonderful to have him in your arms, the safest place for him, as he watched his favorite show or movies, and you entertained him by playing with his hair or feeding him popcorn.

He loved it when you fed him food. That was a process that took longer than anything else, which you were sure had to do with her, but you were at least grateful that Denji took that last step towards trusting you completely.

Denji was obviously such a physical person. It was only a matter of time before he wanted to do more with you, but you were always so worried about upsetting him or letting him down or making him freak out by remembering his past somehow. You were just too hesitant. He would move to kiss you, and you’d have to turn away with a quiet apology. He’d try to hump your leg while cuddling and you’d come up with an excuse to get up. Eventually, though, you ran out of apologies and shitty rationalizations as to why you couldn’t do anything with him. Both of you were adults, and he’d been living with you long enough, it was like the two of you were practically dating already— You just couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

There had been a day when you finally gave in, leaning into his kiss when he made another half-hearted attempt at it, expecting that you’d dodge like usual. And one thing led to another until you were both on your bed with you on top, riding him while he moaned your name and grabbed onto the sheets, barely clinging to his remaining sanity. You learned afterwards that was his first time. You had inklings, of course, but he didn’t outright admit it until after.

Since then, you weren’t exactly sure what to label the relationship that you had with Denji because it was this weird limbo between dating and simply being friends with benefits. Whenever he was hard or you were needy, one of you would pounce on the other. You’d been living with each other for a year. You went out to nice restaurants that required you to get all dressed up. You went to the movies. You went on walks around the park. You worried about him whenever he went out to fight Devils. He worried about you whenever he wasn’t in your arms. That met all the requirements of being a couple, didn’t it?

What really solidified it for you in your mind was when he had crawled onto your lap that afternoon, sliding between your legs so that he could rest against you while he watched TV, and after a few minutes of trying to get your attention by running his hands up and down your thighs, you gave in to what he clearly wanted, which was for someone to help out with the bothersome erection he had straining in his sleep shorts.

With a whiney plea of, “Mommy…” you knew that he was all yours. There was suddenly no doubt about it.

“Yeah, baby?” you cooed so gently in response because you didn’t want to spook him after being so shocked from what he said when all you wanted was to hear him say it again.

“Please,” he begged pathetically.

You indulged him by sliding your hands under his pants and over his hard cock. He melted into you a bit, his head turning to the side so that he could hide his face in your bicep as you started slowly teasing his tip with your thumbs to get a sense of just how needy and leaky he was. It didn’t matter how much the two of you had fucked since that first time together because Denji was always just as cute and pathetic every time.

“Is that it, puppy?” you asked in his ear.

He nodded desperately. “Yeah—” He gasped as you wrapped both hands around his length. “Mommy—”

Fuck, you could die of happiness right then and there when he said that.

“Feels— Feels— S’ good—”

After that day, it didn’t stop. Every time Denji saw you, he’d perk up with a bright smile and jump at you with a gleeful cheer of, “Mommy!” And whenever he was puddy in your arms, you’d pet his hair and whisper, “That’s a good puppy,” to send him deeper into that blissful place of sub-space that he needed so desperately in order to avoid all of the ongoing problems in his life. He liked to sit at your feet now, resting his head on your lap as you played with his hair; and you knew that he liked that spot because if he ever wanted to, he could just squeeze between your knees until you were spread wide for him, giving him the chance to make you feel good.

One day he told you that he was happy to know you. He was happy that you called him puppy. He was so glad that someone good was taking care of him. And he explained that the reason he felt that way was because of the last woman he’d ever opened up to, a woman named Makima who treated him like a dog, like a pet, and not in the wonderful way that you did, had done terrible things to him. You were kind and caring. She was scary and sadistic.

So you did your best to make sure he continued to feel appreciated and cared for. You got him whatever he wanted, fed him food whenever he wanted, and let him cuddle up against you whenever he needed. You started rewarding Denji. For little things, you’d give him headpats or kisses on the cheek, and for the bigger things, you’d give him… Well… You.

Denji put in the work in order to earn you because it seemed like he always needed you.

He came home one day, bragging about the Devil he killed, and how he made enough money off that one kill to pay your rent for the month; and for that, he deserved a big reward. So you scratched behind his ear while praising him for his good work and that you were so proud of him and so thankful that he came home safe, and you did this until he dropped to his knees with a stupid grin plastered to his face and his tongue hanging out with utter happiness. When he was waiting eagerly at your feet, you left to grab his collar and leash from your shared drawer, and Denji happily followed you. He looked so much at peace when you put the collar around his neck. He seemed to melt more and more as you kissed his head when he was wearing what showed that he belonged to you— Which was all he ever wanted. Denji wanted to belong to someone good, and you hoped that you could be that person for the rest of his life.

Poor thing was more than excited to crawl onto the couch with you, to lay between your legs after you reclined back then turned on the TV. It didn’t really occur to him that he’d earned more than that. Denji seemed to be content with the fact that he was there with you, resting against your warm body, hiding his face in your bicep, whining lightly as you tickled your fingers around the collar on his neck.

“Does that feel okay, puppy?”

Denji nodded vaguely.

“What would you like to watch?”

He whispered the name of his favorite show to you, so you played with the remote until you got the episode of the new season playing for him.

“Like that, baby?”

He nodded again before murmuring, “Perfect, Mommy.”

“Good boy.”

Denji nuzzled your arm while you kissed the top of his head. Honestly, did it have to go any further than that? Not necessarily. But Denji knew the rules, he knew the rewards that came with impressing you, and after clearly earning it, how could you deny him his gift? Especially when he looked so cute when he was all blissed-out between your legs—

“Will you do me a favor, puppy?”

Denji nodded. “Anything, Mommy.”

“Be a good boy and watch your show while Mommy makes you feel good.”

His face brightened as a list of potential possibilities began to run through his mind— What were you going to do to him? Tease him? Fuck him? Let him fuck you? Were you going to be nice or mean? Were you going to rush things or let it all brew until he was pathetically whimpering your name? The endless possibilities were running through your head, too, but your mind was made up. You tried to hold him still, because he was always squirmy whenever you played with him, by wrapping the leash around your hand a couple of times before you held on tight then dragged your free hand down his front and under the waistband of his pants. Denji told you once that he had to wear a suit for work back in the day when he did Devil hunting professionally; however, now that he was back to freelance, he got to wear whatever he wanted, including just a t-shirt and some loose fitting pants that gave him plenty of room to move around in while he was fighting— And they were fairly cheap, so he didn’t have to worry about ruining them and feeling guilty about having you buy him more.

“Mommy?” he cocked a brow up at you.

Your hand was sliding into his pants and was wasting no time in taking his semi-soft length in your gentle grip. He let out the cutest, quietest moan you’d ever heard.

“Don’t mind me, puppy.”

“Y-Yes, Mommy…”

You kissed under his ear. The way he tensed as you pumped your hand ever so slowly up and down his length in an effort to get him hard, to which he mewled and screwed his eyes shut to concentrate until you warned him to open up because you told him to watch his show while you took care of him. He tried his best. You could see it while you were peeking over his shoulder to get a good view of his face and what you were doing under his pants, his chin was quivering as he was attempting to hold back any moans from slipping out or from moving around too much before you’d decide to punish him by stopping altogether.

You leaned in to whisper, “You can make noise, puppy.”

A gentle groan left him within an instant. “Thank you, Mommy.” His head fell back onto your shoulder, but his eyes were still open so that he could watch his show— Though you knew he wasn’t really paying attention. “Feels s’good…”

“Does it?”

He nodded. “Y- Yes—” Another moan got caught in his throat as you slipped his pants down to his thighs so that his erection could pop up, giving you more room to please him. “Shit—” His hands grabbed onto your wrist to stop you after you decided to suddenly jerk him off fast and hard. “Mommy—”

“Don’t stop me, puppy.”

Denji carefully let go of you, his hands finding the length of his leash to hold onto instead. “I’m sorry.”

You kissed under his ear again. “It’s okay.”

You continued your movements of dragging your fist up and down his shaft, leading from base to tip, a squelching sound becoming more and more obvious as precum dribbled out of his tip and onto your hand. You tried to play with it to see the clear, gooey strings sticking to your fingers, but Denji wasn’t having it— Not when he was so needy.

Without any warning, Denji suddenly rolled over, his face immediately finding its way to your chest where he could stuff his cold nose between your boobs. You hesitated while letting him adjust. Another pathetic, desperate, needy, pleading whine escaped him as he did his best to hold onto your hips for balance while he was busy running his nose and lips along the outline of your bra around your breasts.

“Mommy, need’ta touch you…” He pressed his hips forward, sliding his length through the loose grip you still have around him. “Please, Mommy.”

It was hard not to grin at him even though he couldn’t see you. With his face buried in your chest, there was no way he could tell that you were on Cloud 9 just watching him fuck your hand at a fast yet gentle pace, something similar to the way he liked to fuck you whenever he was on top and just wanted to make you feel good. Denji wasn’t a selfish man. Though he enjoyed orgasming— craved it, even— he always put your pleasure before his when you’d let him. If he earned the reward of fucking you, he did so in a way that would make you cum; and he’d always hold back long enough to make sure you came first. It was so cute whenever he was thrusting inside of you and his eyes were screwed shut just so that he could concentrate on not cumming.

“Oh, my poor puppy,” you teased. He whimpered when you kissed the top of his head. “You’ve just been so pent up and needy for me, haven’t you?”

He nodded against your chest. “Yes, Mommy—”

Denji was cut off by the way you started matching his movements, fisting your hand along his hard length while he fucked it faster. Every time you were near his tip, you had to tease him. With a gentle swipe of your thumb over the sensitive tip, Denji quickly collapsed from his knees to his stomach, giving up control again so that you could jerk him off and he couldn’t do a single thing about it.

“You’ve been such a good pet for me, puppy. You know that?”

Denji’s nose rubbed against your sternum in response.

“Good boys who earn rewards get to cum. Isn’t that right?”

“F-Fu-Fuck— Yes— Yes, Mommy—”

“My sweet boy…”

“All… All yours, Mommy—” His breath was burning your skin in the best way as he panted, drool likely staining your shirt. “I’m your good boy.”

“Yes, you are.”

After looping his leash around your wrist instead of your hand, you wormed your way down to press your palm flat against his tip so that you could rub back and forth while you were still jerking him off; a dual effort to get him to cum harder. Denji was a squirming mess after that. He couldn’t contain himself, and it was hard for you to keep him somewhat still between your legs, because he was grabbing your hips for dear life while crying into your boobs for mercy.

“I’m close, Mommy— Stop it— Stop— Mommy!”

“Why would I stop, puppy? I told you that you’re allowed to cum. Don’t hold back. Cum for me whenever you’re ready.”

It barely took ‘til the end of your sentence before Denji cried out your name. White ropes of his cum shot out onto your thighs and stomach during the height of his orgasm that you forced out of him; and when it began to slow down, it turned into a spent leak that dripped down your hands.

You kissed the top of his head again as a means to close the gap between the two of you while you were whispering lovely praises to him about how he was so good for you and that he was so precious and that you were happy that he belonged to you.

When he caught his breath and was somewhat alert to his surroundings again, Denji tried to pick himself up so that he could escape you long enough to grab a towel to clean up the mess he made; However, you were still holding onto his leash tight enough that he couldn’t go far before you tugged gently to keep him with you, unable to think about anything about you, which is how it should have always been. You and him. Nothing else.

“Don’t move yet, puppy… Mommy’ll help you when you’re ready.”

Denji slumped against your body, completely giving up control one final time so that you could hug him close, enveloping him in your arms where he was safe and loved and taken care of. If it was possible, you would have liked to keep him there forever. If he wasn’t so anxious all the time, you’d want to keep him at home where you could look after him 24/7 so that you knew he was safe and out of harm’s way. When he was at work, nothing was guaranteed. Maybe if you just held onto him for dear life, refusing to let go, never allowing him out of your arms, convincing him that having his cheek squished up against your boobs was the best feeling in the world— Maybe then he’d stay with you forever.

“I’m so proud of you, Denji.”

He whined happily at the mention of his name.

“You did so well for me, baby.”

You ran your hands up and down his back to help him calm down while he caught his breath. Denji wasn’t wiggling around, which was a sign that he was close to falling asleep; and you knew the second you saw his left foot twitching at the end of the bed that he had actually successfully done so. He was all yours. He wasn’t going anywhere, not in that state when he was covered in cum and sweat, still wearing his collar and leash that you had wrapped around your wrist. Your cute little puppy. You’d take care of him for the rest of his life…

“Goodnight, puppy.”

#op #fanfic #denji #chainsaw man #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man fanfic #csm #csm fanfic #csm smut #denji fanfic #denji smut

1K notes · View notes

hockey-fics · 1 year

Text

No Flirting at Trivia - Quinn Hughes

Summary: After moving to Vancouver by yourself you start to doubt your decisions. But one group of people make you feel a little more welcome in the new city. And there’s one person in particular who makes you certain you made the right decision.

Word Count: ~5,800

Warnings: Pretty wholesome, some drinking.

A/N: Honestly, don’t really know much about Quinn Hughes, he just gives kinda quiet, sweet vibes so I ran with that for this one. Could be way out of character, I’m not sure.

Moving to Vancouver was a huge decision, one that almost didn’t happen. When you got the job offer and they also offered to pay for you to relocate there weren’t any rational reasons to say no. The job was great, the pay was great, the benefits were great. But you didn’t know anyone in Vancouver. You had never moved to a new city not knowing a single person there.

But you didn’t want to regret letting the opportunity go so you packed up everything you owned into a U-Haul and made the journey to Vancouver. For a couple weeks you worried that you had made a huge mistake. Your job was great but that’s where the positives ended. The only social interaction you had was at work, which was even limited with the majority of your days being spent with your eyes locked on the computer in your cubicle. There was a loneliness to your life that made you question if you had made the right choice.

That was until you met Kayla. She lived in the apartment directly across from yours. After seeing each other and exchanging fairly standard small talk a few times she invited you to a dinner party she was having. You said yes immediately and a few days later you were in an apartment with more people at one time than you had talked to in the entire three weeks you had lived there. Not only were you welcomed with open arms that night but you were quickly incorporated into the little group of friends. You were invited to everything they went to and did and you stopped feeling so lonely in the new city.

It had officially been three months since you moved to Vancouver and things were starting to feel more and more normal everyday. It was a Friday night and you were meeting your friends at a pub that they promised had some of the best burgers in the city. When you got there you slide into an empty spot next to Quinn, saying a round of hellos to everyone who was already there. Quinn had made you feel especially comfortable from the moment you met him. He seemed to go out of his way to make sure you were included in conversations, always saving you a spot next to him at every table you all sat at, always asking questions about your life.

“How was work?” Quinn asks.

Looking up from the menu you give him a little shrug. “Not bad, how was your day? Did you have practice today?”

Quinn nods, leaning back in his chair as if even the thought of it was tiring. “Yeah, wasn’t bad though.

“We should go to karaoke,” Kayla blurts out, drawing everyones attention towards her. “There’s that place right down the street, I haven’t been in so long.”

“I don’t know,” Quinn tells her.

“I’m down,” you reply, taking a sip of your drink. You can see Quinn looking at you from your peripheral vision. Turning to look at him you wait for him to say something but he simply turns his attention back to the table.

“Yeah, okay, I’m in,” Quinn relents.

After a little more discussion it’s decided that you would all go to the karaoke bar after a couple more drinks, everyone needing a little more liquid courage to be able to truly give it their all in karaoke.

Once the bills were dropped off at the table you pull your wallet out, glancing down at it before it gets whisked from your line of vision.

“I got it,” Quinn whispers, clearly trying not to make a big deal of it.

Reaching over you try to take the bill back from him, shaking your head. “Why? You bought my dinner the other day.”

“Because I want to.” Quinn places the bill in his other hand with his own bill. “I’m just being nice.”

“Be nice to someone else,” you giggle, glancing around the table, not remembering Quinn paying for anyone else’s bills before.

“They’ve all had years of me being nice to them. I’m still trying to win you over,” Quinn jokes.

“Well you’ve already won me over, but thank you.” When you look away from Quinn you catch Kayla looking at you with a look that seemed to be trying to tell you something but you weren’t sure what that was.

After everyone’s bills have been paid you all make your way down the street to the karaoke bar. You order more drinks and watch Kayla give a very energetic performance of Since U Been Gone followed by a uniquely bad rendition of All Star from Ethan.

You were working on your second vodka soda since getting there when Quinn leans over towards you. “You agreed to come here and you’re not even going to sing?”

Giggling you look over at him, shaking your head. “I don’t think so. I’d definitely need another drink to get up there.”

“What do you want?” Quinn asks with a mischievous smirk.

“A tequila shot.” You really thought it was a joke, not expecting Quinn to buy you a tequila shot just minutes later, but you weren’t going to turn it down either. After the shot you convince Kayla to come up with you for a performance of Build Me Up Buttercup, a song that had never once failed to brighten your mood.

Thank God for the tequila shot, all your inhibitions lowered significantly. Halfway through the song you notice Quinn watching you so intently and your cheeks warm a little. You and Kayla finish up your performance before returning to your seats, Kayla immediately on the hunt for the next victim she would force to get up for a song.

“Not bad,” Quinn comments as you return to your seat beside him.

“Not bad?” You scoff, looking at him with fake offence. “You actually seemed pretty captivated by my performance.”

You watch Quinn glance down at the ground, clearing his throat before glancing back at you. “Yeah, guess it was pretty good.”

Leaning over you playfully nudge his shoulder with yours. “You’re very tense tonight.”

“I’m not,” Quinn says quickly, his voice carrying a defensive tone. “Just not super into karaoke, I guess.”

Nodding you decide to let it go though you weren’t entirely certain that there wasn’t something else going on. “Okay,” you mutter, taking another large gulp of your drink.

By the time you were all getting ready to head home you were a little more intoxicated than you had anticipated getting that night.

“Do you need a ride home?” Quinn asks you while you were all walking back to the parking lot next to the pub the night had started at. He hadn’t been drinking that night and it was only in that moment that you started to feel the self conscious feeling of being the drunk one around sober people.

“If you don’t mind,” you reply sheepishly, looking up at him as you’re trying to continue walking in a straight line.

Quinn reaches out, placing his hand on your waist and tugging you sideways with a chuckle. Looking forward you notice the fire hydrant you were rapidly approaching. “Not at all,” Quinn tells you. “I don’t know if you’d make it home on your own,” he teases.

“I would,” you exclaim. “I’m a very responsible drunk.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sure you are,” Quinn relents.

As you guys get back to the parking lot beside the pub the discussion of rides and Ubers begins. “Ethan is giving me a ride home, I don’t know who else he’s driving but I’m sure there’s probably room for you too, if you want.”

“Quinn is going to give me a ride,” you tell her, glancing up at him quickly, as if to check that he wasn’t going to change his mind.

“You live in completely different directions, our place is on Ethan’s way anyway.”

“I don’t mind,” Quinn chimes in, hands shoved in his pockets as he shrugs casually.

Kayla rolls her eyes playfully. “Of course you don’t.”

You weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean and for some reason the tension those words instil make you uncertain if you should say anything. So you don’t, letting it slide. After saying goodbye to everyone Quinn leads you to where he was parked and you slide into the passengers seat, immediately noticing how nice it was. Sure, you knew it was nice simply from the outside, but you hadn’t fully grasped just how nice.

“I don’t feel bad about you paying for my dinner anymore,” you joke as Quinn gets into the car, pulling his seatbelt on.

“You shouldn’t anyway,” Quinn tells you, chuckling quietly as you continue to look around the car like it was one of the 7 wonders of the world.

“You know how to get there?”

Quinn laughs a little more at that, pulling out of the parking lot. “Yeah, we met there.”

“Oh yeah,” you giggle, remembering the dinner party at Kayla’s apartment directly across from yours. It’s not a long drive from the pub to your apartment and when you get there a part of you doesn’t want to get out and go up to to your apartment alone. “Do you want to come in for a bit?”

Quinn looks over at you, not saying anything for a few seconds, like he was making a much more difficult decision than what you would have expected from your question. “Yeah, sure,” he finally answers, pulling into one of the visitor’s spots.

The two of you head up to your apartment and when you step inside you realize that Quinn had never actually been to your place before. Looking over your shoulder you watch Quinn glance around the room, taking everything in. “Does it get your approval?”

Quinn laughs and nods, following you towards the living room. “It’s very…you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” It sounded like the kind of thing you tell someone when you don’t want to offend them by saying you hated it.

“It just suits you,” Quinn says with a shrug. “I like it, it’s not a bad thing.”

“Oh,” you say, reeling back how defensive you had gotten. Flopping down onto your couch you put on some music before looking back over at Quinn. “I feel like I haven’t said thank you enough.”

Quinn follows your lead, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. “For dinner? I’m pretty sure you have.”

Shaking your head you stare down at the middle couch cushion separating you from Quinn. “No, for everything,” you say with a shrug. “I just…when I moved here it was really lonely and I thought I had made a mistake, I was considering going home. But then Kayla introduced me to you guys and everything started to feel…okay.” You were blinking quickly, trying to keep the tears that were blurring your vision from slipping onto your cheeks, but no matter how quick you were blinking you weren’t able to succeed. “Fuck, sorry, now I’m drunk crying to you, this is so embarrassing,” you say with a quiet laugh, wiping away your tears.

Quinn moves down the couch to sit beside you, looking hesitant as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “Don’t apologize, it’s not embarrassing.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. “But thank you.”

“I’m always going to be here for you,” Quinn replies, a moment of silence falling between the two of you before he adds what sounded like an afterthought. “We all are.”

Lifting your head from his shoulder you look into his eyes and you can feel Quinn shift, a nervous energy filling the room. “Do you, um, do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

After picking out a movie you curl up into the corner of the couch, resting your head on one of the many decorative pillows you had bought when you got there. Your apartment was decorated incredibly well and as much as you enjoyed it you also knew that it was the product of trying to make yourself enjoy your evenings alone in the apartment a little more.

At some point during the movie you stop being able to keep your eyes open, with each blink your eyes were heavier and heavier, harder and harder to open them again. You’re brought back into reality by Quinn quietly saying your name. “Hmm?” You hum, sitting up slightly to look over at him, realizing you had fully fallen asleep. “Sorry, I didn’t realize how tired I was. I should have just let you go home earlier.”

Quinn chuckles, shaking his head. “You weren’t forcing me to stay here, I wanted to be here.”

“Okay,” you mumble, still feeling guilty for falling asleep with him there. “Are you heading home?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Quinn says, standing up from the couch and grabbing his keys and wallet.

“Well thank you for hanging out, even though I was a terrible host.” You follow him towards the door, still feeling a sleepy haze clouding your thoughts. Before Quinn has the chance to open the door you wrap your arms around him. He responds quickly and does the same, pulling you into his body. For the first time you realize how long it had been since you had even just hugged someone like this. You weren’t exactly wanting to pull back, but you do anyway, looking up at him with a tired smile. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

Quinn nods, his eyes lingering on you for a couple seconds looking contemplative before he turns around to head out of your apartment. Once he was gone you lean against the wall in the hallway, staring a little hole in the wall that you had made the day after you moved in, trying to maneuver the couch you ordered into the apartment yourself. Sighing you glance over to your door, as if Quinn might for some reason be coming back, and if you were honest with yourself, you think you might be more than happy if he did. There was something about him, something that put you at ease, made you feel safe and comfortable. It felt different from your other friendships, not that you didn’t feel safe with them, with Quinn it was just different.

Eventually you pull yourself away from the wall, going about your typical nightly routine before settling into bed for the night. You’re awakened the next morning by a knock on your front door, groaning in annoyance as you stumble through your apartment half asleep and a little hungover.

“Hi?” You say, looking over at Kayla when you pull the door open.

“Do you want to go for a run with me?”

“Not particularly, I haven’t recovered from last night.”

“Speaking of that,” Kayla says with a mischievous grin. “What did you and Quinn get up to? Saw his car in visitor’s parking when I got back last night.”

Shrugging you shake your head. “Not a lot, tried to watch a movie and then I fell asleep.”

“So you guys didn’t…”

You stare at Kayla, waiting for her to finish her sentence before realizing what she was asking. “Hook up? No,” you exclaim, shaking your head. “Why would you think that?”

“Well,” Kayla hums, shrugging. “You know, just…I thought it might happen.”

“Why? Do you think I’m into him, because I’m not.” Your voice is defensive and your words might be lies, but you didn’t want all your new friends thinking you had feelings for Quinn so you would rather stop that rumour as soon as possible.

Kayla sighs loudly, looking around as if someone might be creeping around to listen in on the conversation. “It’s not you,” she whispers, looking shifty as she lets out another sigh. “Quinn is, like he’s really into you. I’ve never seen him so infatuated with someone before.”

You have no response to that, your heart hammering so heavily you feel like you can hear it in your ears. “What?” Is all you manage to croak out.

“You can’t tell him I told you though, he didn’t even tell me, I was pretty sure he was into you just watching him with you but he told Ethan and Ethan told me, but I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone else. I just thought that maybe you should know.”

“Oh, okay,” you stammer, nodding nervously. “I, uh, thanks for telling me, I guess.”

“Just, can you also maybe try not to talk about other guys around him or anything like that, I’m sure he’ll get over it but for now if you could maybe-.”

“Yeah, of course,” you interrupt, nodding. You had no intentions of talking to Quinn about other guys, primarily because you hadn’t met a single person to tell him about other than himself, but there were no intentions of having that conversation. “Have a good run, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Kayla nods, making you swear again that you wouldn’t tell anyone what she had told you before disappearing down the hallway. Closing the door you let out a loud breath, your mind racing at a million miles an hour. Was that why things always felt different with Quinn? The only thing that you were certain about was that if Kayla was right then the feelings might not be one-sided.

You wait till that afternoon before texting Quinn, sitting on the couch changing the message about ten times before sending it. ‘Hey, would you want to go for dinner some night this week?’

He answers pretty quickly, evidently not spending an agonizing amount of time re-writing his message. ‘Sure we have a couple road games this week but would Thursday be good with everyone?’

You stare at the message with a sinking feeling. Everyone. This attempt to ask him on a date hadn’t gone how you had hoped, even after the half an hour it took to ask him. ‘I was thinking maybe it could just be us’

This time you watch the typing bubble appear and disappear enough times to know he was also uncertain about what to say. ‘Yeah, sounds good. Does Thursday work for you then?’

‘Yeah, Thursday is perfect’ You breathe out a sigh of relief that he didn’t seem to find your request strange, although you were pretty sure you also had missed the mark on making him know it was a date.

You rush home from work that Thursday, faster than you ever had before, knowing Quinn was going to be picking you up in a few short hours. You weren’t sure why your stomach was tied in knots, it’s not like it had even been established that this was a date. Getting ready takes less time than you had anticipated, the rest of the hour was spent shifting from the couch to the kitchen to the patio, anywhere really, not stay still.

‘I’m here, do you want me to come up?’

The text sends makes your heart pound and your palms begin to sweat and you’re not sure if it’s from excitement or nerves but you ignore it either way and reply to his text. ‘No, it’s okay, I’ll be down in a minute’

You yank on shoes and grab your purse, almost forgetting to lock your door on the way out. In the elevator you lean against the shiny silver wall, tipping your head back and taking a deep breath. It was just Quinn. But you’re just as nervous when you get into his car as you were in the elevator. “Hey,” you say sheepishly.

“Hey,” Quinn replies with an easy smile. “You look nice.”

“You do too,” you tell him, pulling your seatbelt on and entirely missing the wave of uncertainty that washes over Quinn’s face after your comment.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Quinn mutters, putting the car in drive and heading towards the restaurant you had suggested. “How was work today?”

“It was fine, I guess, pretty much the same as every other day.”

Quinn turns his head to look at you when he stops at a red light. “You like it though, don’t you? Like, you’re not planning to leave?”

“No, I mean, yeah, I like it,” you stammer. “Why? Are you scared I’m going to move away?”

Quinn shrugs, chuckling quietly as the two of you continue towards the restaurant. “I don’t know, maybe a little.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him, watching him for a couple seconds before looking back out the window.

You get to the restaurant shortly after and it seems that with every step closer to the table your anxiety was rising higher and higher. Quinn seemed entirely at ease and you wanted to scream at him that this was supposed to be a date, that you were just too nervous and awkward to have clarified that before. But no matter how easy it would be to just tell him, you couldn’t do it. Because what if you told him and he told you he didn’t want it to be a date? You weren’t sure you could handle sitting through a dinner after that.

“You okay?”

You tip your head up from where you were hyper-fixated on the menu in front of you. “Y-yeah, why?”

Quinn shrugs, eyebrows furrowed. “You just seem, I don’t know, uncomfortable or something.”

“No, I’m fine.” You could tell your voice sounded defensive and you wish you could take it back and try to sound at least a little convincing. “Do you know what you’re getting?”

“We’ve been here for five minutes, I’ve barely looked at the menu,” Quinn chuckles. “But I think you need a drink,” he jokes.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” you giggle, glancing over as your server approaches your table. You order a glass of wine, hoping it would get to your table as quick as your server had been there to take your order. Thankfully it’s only a couple minutes before you’re sipping on a glass of pinot noir, trying not too seem too desperate to get it into your system. “Congratulations on your win yesterday, I forgot to tell you that earlier,” you say, leaning back in your chair and hoping to seem natural.

“Oh, thanks,” Quinn replies, seeming to be taken aback by the comment. “I didn’t really think you actually paid attention to that.”

Your head tips to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. “Why would you think that? I watch most of your games.”

“Really?”

Laughing softly in response to his surprise you give him a nod. “Of course, why wouldn’t it?”

“I didn’t think you cared about hockey.”

“I care about you,” you state, immediately wishing you had phrased that differently. It wasn’t that the statement wasn’t true, but the way it made your cheeks flush made you want to take it back. “And hockey is a big part of your life, so of course I’m going to care,” you add, hoping to soften the blow of the first statement.

Quinn is silent, looking down to the table then back to you then out the window you were sitting next to and then back to you. “I care about you too,” he blurts out.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his response. Perhaps he wasn’t as relaxed about this as he seemed. “I’m happy to hear that.”

“I’m getting the steak,” Quinn says, switching the subject quickly. “Do you know what you’re getting?”

“No,” you tell him, taking another sip of your wine as you gaze down at the menu.

Quinn chuckles, shaking his head. “So why’d you ask me if I knew the second we sat down?”

You turn your attention back to him, rolling your eyes playfully. “Because you’re making me nervous.”

“How am I making you nervous?” Quinn laughs, the tension that had been building since you got in his car seemingly fading away.

You bite down on your bottom lip, groaning quietly as you try to figure out what direction to take this. “Because I’m at dinner with a handsome man, why wouldn’t I be nervous?” You add a breath of laughter after, hoping to ease some of the anxiety you felt after saying that.

Quinn clears his throat nervously. “I think I’m the one who should be nervous then.”

“And you’re not?”

“Oh, I am,” Quinn breathes out followed by a chuckle that’s tinged with an energy that makes it obvious he wasn’t lying.

“Glad it’s mutual,” you tease, looking back down at your menu. “I’m getting the chicken caesar salad,” you inform him a minute later.

The rest of the dinner goes by about as well as that moment. You were able to relax a bit more after another glass of wine and a shift of conversation to lighter topics. Of course when the bill comes Quinn swoops in and you can’t tell if him paying for things for you was really ever just a friendly gesture or more than that.

You leave the restaurant and you’re only a few feet down the road when you grab Quinn’s hand. He comes to a halt, turning around with his eyebrows furrowed. “What’s up?”

You let go of his hand, taking a deep breath as you glance around, scared that if you looked into his eyes too long you would back out. “Okay, um,” you hum, taking another breath. “Tonight…this dinner, I was, I thought,” you stammer, shaking your head and letting a nervous laugh leave your lips. “I-,” you begin again before tapering off, it was as if your brain couldn’t figure out the words to explain what was going on. Shuffling closer you bring your hands to either side of his face just before leaning in and pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss before quickly pulling back.

“Oh,” Quinn mutters, eyes wide. “Oh, shit,” he adds a second later. “This was supposed to be…”

“A date,” you whisper, nervously fidgeting with a ring on your finger.

“I’m sorry-,”

Before Quinn can say anything else you shake your head. “Don’t be sorry, I thought you felt the same way but it’s okay.”

“What?” Quinn mumbles. “No, that’s not what I was saying. I do, I do have feelings for you. I just…I’m sorry I was such an idiot and didn’t realize what was going on.”

You wish you could hide the stupid smile that spreads on your lips but you can’t seem to contain it. “You’re not an idiot, I was just too scared to actually actually ask you, to say that it was a date.”

“Well I had fun on our first date,” Quinn laughs, shaking his head as if still in disbelief that he hadn’t figured it out.

“Me too,” you agree, reaching over and taking his hand before continuing on your way back to his car, a sudden ease to your interactions. “Do you want to come over to my place?”

“I don’t have sex on the first date,” Quinn jokes, surprisingly at ease.

“I doubt that,” you tease. “But I don’t either, I want you to sit on the couch while I fall asleep again.”

Quinn stops just beside his car, tugging you closer to him. Leaning back in he presses his lips to yours, this time the kiss has more intention, it lasts longer than a fleeting second and it fills your stomach with butterflies. “Only if I get to pick the movie this time,” he whispers.

“Deal.”

It was nearing a month since you went on your first date with Quinn and you had already been on many more. He had suggested that you make the relationship official about as easily as you had informed him that your first dinner was supposed to be a date. But of course you agreed, having no interest in being with anyone other than Quinn. More and more often Quinn was spending nights at your apartment. Despite your relationship growing you had yet to tell anyone about it. Originally it was because you wanted to explore the relationship and see if it was going anywhere before telling any of your friends, not wanting to complicate things if it didn’t work out.

Quinn had been out of town for a few days and you hated to admit how much you missed him already. But even through your texts he seemed to be able to read you, your phone ringing with the familiar FaceTime ringtone. “Hi,” you say after answering it, already tucked into bed for the night.

“You look cozy,” Quinn comments, also already in bed though he doesn’t seem as close to calling it a night as you were.

“I am,” you hum, giggling. “I watched your game tonight.”

“Oh…that sucks,” Quinn laughs.

You roll your eyes in response, having had this exact conversation almost every time they lost a game. “You know it doesn’t.”

“I like that you watch my games,” Quinn admits, looking sheepish as he says it.

“You’re cute,” you giggle, sitting up in your bed as you begin to feel yourself getting more and more tired. “What time are you getting back tomorrow?”

“Early, I think. We’re still going out to trivia with everyone tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.” You cover your mouth to try to hide your yawn but the little smirk on Quinn’s face tells you that it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Are you going to fall asleep on me again?”

“No, I’m not,” you whine, laughing quietly.

“Hey, um, I don’t know if this is the right time to bring this up, but…” Quinn begins before trailing off.

“What’s up?” You ask, voice soft as your heart begins to race, worried about what could possibly be making him seem so nervous.

“I was thinking, maybe, we could tell people about us? Like, our friends, I mean.”

You let out a breath of relief, your heart rate slowing down. “Yeah, of course we can.”

“Okay.” Quinn’s voice is filled with an equal amount of relief and he’s smiling back at you like you just gave him the greatest news he’s heard all year.

Glancing at the time you let out a quiet sigh. “I really should go though, busy day at work tomorrow.”

“Have a good sleep, I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight Quinn,” you say before ending the FaceTime, falling asleep shortly after with a feeling of contentment.

You knew it was going to be a busy day at work but you hadn’t realized just how busy. You barely had time for even a coffee break and it was already nearing the end of the day and your to-do list still had a few items. You look up at the time in the corner of your computer, groaning as you pick up your phone to text Quinn. ‘I have to stay late, I’ll meet you at trivia’

‘Are you sure? I can wait and pick you up’

‘It’s okay, no point in you not being there the whole time just because I can’t’

‘Okay, I’ll see you there then’

Setting your phone down you get right back to work, trying to get through it as quickly as possible. By the time you’re done you’re already twenty minutes late and it’s another fifteen before you get to the pub, heading inside and quickly finding your group sitting in a booth at the back of the pub.

“There she is,” Kayla cheers as you approach the table. “Just in time, trivia is about to start and we can’t do this without you.”

“I made it, everyone can relax,” you joke, laughing softly. As you get closer Quinn slides out of the booth, waiting for you to get closer before pulling you into a hug. “I missed you,” you whisper into his ear as you hug him back.

“I missed you too,” he replies, not nearly as quietly as you. So he really was serious about letting everyone in on the news right away. As you pull back you look up into his eyes, hesitating for a second before leaning in to kiss him. He kisses you back as you hear mutters at the table. “That’s one way to tell them,” Quinn chuckles as he pulls back, letting you slide into the booth before you.

“What the fuck?” Mia exclaims, eyes wide as they jolt back and forth between you and Quinn. “When did this happen and why didn’t I know about it?”

You feel Quinn’s hand fumble around under the table till he finds yours, slipping his fingers between yours. “Like a month ago,” you admit.

“A month? Like you two have been together for a month and we didn’t know?”

“Yeah, sorta, I guess,” you stammer. “We went on a date a month ago and then didn’t want to say anything till we figured out if we even liked each other,” you joke.

Quinn chuckles, shaking his head. “You needed to figure out if you even like me, I already knew.”

“Did you know?” Mia asks Kayla, her voice still filled with shock.

“Yes, but not because they told me,” Kayla admits, looking over at you with a knowing smile. “Platonic friends don’t spend nearly as many nights together as they’ve been,” she explains to Mia before turning her attention to you. “Kind of upset with you two for not telling me and thinking I would be stupid enough not to put it together when Quinn’s car is in our visitor parking half the days he’s in town.”

“I’m actually very surprised you managed to keep it a secret for so long, I know you’re not great at that.”

“Hey,” Kayla exclaims, raising her hands in defence. “If I was any better at keeping secrets you two wouldn’t be together.”

“What?” Quinn chimes in, eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

You look to Kayla and she looks to you, giving a little shrug to say it was up to you if you wanted to explain it or not. “Well I didn’t just get the courage to ask you on a date out of nowhere.”

Quinn looks to Kayla, putting the pieces together in his head. “I mean, you didn’t actually get the courage to ask me on a date, you asked me to go for dinner and then just kissed me after,” he teases.

“Whatever,” you giggle, rolling your eyes. “Wouldn’t have needed to be so complicated if you had just asked me out before that.”

“Okay, I think you two are very cute together but I’m going to throw up if you don’t stop flirting,” Mia jokes.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “No flirting at trivia.”

“Absolutely none, we’re here to win,” Kayla chimes in just as the host begins his introductions for the night. As he explains the rules you can’t help but look over at Quinn, smiling happily up at him. And suddenly you realize just how right your decision to move to Vancouver truly was.

#Quinn hughes #Quinn Hughes fanfic #Quinn Hughes fic #Quinn Hughes imagine #Quinn Hughes one shot #Vancouver canucks fic #Vancouver canucks fanfic #vancouver canucks one shot #nhl fanfiction #nhl one shot #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #vancouver canucks imagines #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey imagines

590 notes · View notes