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mikkomacko · 2 months

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Him and I

Y'all asked and I have done my best to deliver! This ended up being sooo long and I have so much more I want to write so pls pls pls send in requests for mob boss Nico! Enjoy x

Pairing: Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: cussing, sexual language, mentions of weapons, blood, violence

~~~~

The room rings loud with the clattering of dishes, silverware scraping platters, drink glasses clinking together, but most of all laughter.

You watch the bubbles in your champagne glass fizzle up towards the rim, smiling softly at the way Nico’s chest shakes with laughter against your side. The arm around your waist tightens every time he chuckles, the fingers on your thigh digging into your bare skin.

You’re not listening to whatever Timo is saying that has him laughing like this, but it doesn’t matter to you. All that you care about is that he’s safe at home, happy and having fun with his family.

Looking up from your glass, you take in the room. The overly large dining table is filled with men and boys, everyone crowded over messy dinner plates and drinks. Holtz is feeding scraps to the towering Saint Bernard Nico gifted you when you moved in with him, laces of drooling pooling under the dog’s mouth.

You place your hand over Nico’s on your thigh, slipping your fingers between his calloused ones when he flips his palm over for you. Neither of you say a word, him caught up in conversation and you still admiring the boys in front of you.

Jack and Luke catch your eye, the two brothers bickering a few seats over from you. They’re smirking and poking at each other with their silverware, whatever teasing words falling from their lips lost to you. They’re so endearing, you think as they mock each other, a testament to true brotherhood. Before you can get too sappy over how much they love each other, you realize Luke has stupidly wrapped his hand around the blade of a steak knife Jack had pointed at him.

The warning words are on the tip of your tongue when Jack tugs the knife back and you roll your eyes as blood immediately seeps out from Luke’s clenched fist.

“Jack!” You scold, setting your champagne glass on the table and rising from Nico’s lap. It’s at that moment that the rest of the table realizes crimson red blood is pooling into Luke’s lap and Jack is holding the stained knife.

Rushing around the corner of the table, you tug a cloth napkin off of Daws lap as you rush to Luke. Almost helplessly he pushes his chair out, holding his hand out to you with wide eyes. The wound has begun making a mess on the white marble floors and you dog the splatters of red to get closer.

He opens his hand and you wrap the cloth around it tightly, holding his hand tightly and nudging him up from his seat with a hand on his back.

“Cleaned by the time I get back.” You tell Jack, who’s watching you with a guilty hunch to his shoulders.

“Come on Luke,” you murmur. Tugging the knife from Jack’s palm, you place it on the table and point to the floor. He simply nods, letting you lead Luke off to the bathroom to take care of his hand.

Nico finds you ten minutes later standing over Luke, first aid kit splayed out on the bathroom counter. The young boy sits on the closed toilet seat, his hand held out to you as you finish the last couple stitches.

“How’s he looking boss?” Nico greets, sliding up behind you and looking over your shoulder. Like always, the stitches are clean and neat.

“A little stupid,” you tease, tying off the thread. Nico steps back so you can place the needle and scissors down, swiping a wet rag over Luke’s palm before you wrap a bandage around it.

He tentatively flexes his hand, wincing slightly before looking up at you with a bright smile. That smile fades when he sees the way you’ve got your hands on your hips, one eyebrow cocked.

“What?” He asks, eyes looking between you and Nico. You jab a finger into his shoulder and he flinches, rubbing at the spot as if you could actually hurt him.

“If I ever see you grab the blade of a knife like that I’m kicking your ass and then calling your mother.”

Luke deflates at your words, sullenly nodding. You stare him down for a moment before motioning towards the door. “Go. Drink some water and make Jack get you a cookie.”

He scampers away like a kicked puppy, disappearing down the hallway. Before you can even move, Nico is sliding up behind you again and wrapping his arms around your middle.

His nose brushed the side of your neck, the messy strands of his hair tickled your ear. “That was sexy,” he mumbled lowly, his voice just a rumble. “I like see you get all stern with the boys.”

Butterflies warmed your belly, fluttering in circles beneath his large palms. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, kissing softly at your skin. “So hot seeing my baby boss everyone around…” he dots more kisses along your neck, his breath hot and sticky. Instinctively you melt into his hold, knees growing weak from his attention.

“and then go you’ll go upstairs tonight and bend over for me, won’t you?”

Heat rises to your face, and you’re unsure if it’s embarrassment at his words or because he’s right.

You stand up straight and shove his hold off in favor of cleaning up the bathroom. Nico snickers behind you and when you meet his gaze through the bathroom mirror, he’s smirking.

“Go make sure my house is cleaned up,” you demand through a pout, trying to shake off his teasing. “Or there will be no bending over from me.”

He looks you up and down, his gaze returning to yours and he drops his left eye in a wink. “Yes ma’am,” he complies, smirk still plastered on his face as he lovingly smacks at your ass before leaving.

Deciding to leave the night to Nico, you disappear upstairs to change and wash up for bed. By the time you tiptoe back to the dining room everything has been cleared away and all the boys sent home.

You find your boyfriend in the kitchen, standing over the sink with his back to you. He must not have heard you over the sound of the water running so you take a moment to just watch him.

He’s abandoned the button up he was wearing earlier and now just a skimpy, see through white tank top stretches over his back and shoulders. With each scrub of the wine glasses he’s washing, the ridges of his back dip and rise, pulling that thin fabric even tighter.

You don’t know how long you stand there watching him, but you don’t move until he’s setting the last glass out to dry. His wet fingers tuck his hair behind his ear before reaching for a dishcloth. It’s then that he catches sight of you over his shoulder and he turns, tangling his hands in the fabric and leaving back against the counter.

“Sneaky, aren’t ya?”

You bite back a smile, slinking towards him with a shy little shrug. “Mhmmm,” you draw out, letting your hands slide around his waist. He widens his stance, lets your feet step between his so you can press up close to him.

Nico tosses the rag onto the counter, his dry hands coming up to hold either side of your face. He tilts your chin up until you hold his gaze, the warmth of his dark eyes washing over you like sunshine. Despite his stature and his lifestyle, you’ve never thought of Nico as anything more than a sweetheart.

He’s the most gentle, loving, and kind person you’ve ever met. You take in his features, wonder how anyone can see anything more than his soft lips and scruffy beard that love tickle your face, the straight nose that tucks into the top of your head when he holds you, and the puppy dog eyes that admire your every move.

A gentle smile lifts his lips, dimples sinking into his cheeks and you bask in the light of it. Chuckling quietly, he dips down to kiss the tip of your nose.

“Come on baby,” he says, dropping his hands to your hips and walking you back towards the stairs. “Let me take you to bed.”

Reluctantly you turn around, reaching behind you for his hand to guide him through the house and up to the bedroom. On your way you spot the dog splayed out on his large bed in the living room, and you smile knowing Nico will happy about that.

Once in the bedroom, Nico drops your hand in favor of pawing at your ass and hips. You shake his hands off, turning to wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his. He pulls you into him, gripping the back of your thighs and hoisting you up onto the mattress.

Crowding over you, Nico lays between your parted thighs. You tangle your fingers in his hair and draw his mouth back down to yours. He presses the bulge of his jeans into you, groaning softly when you buck your hips up into him.

“Nico,” you breathe out when he trails his mouth across your jaw, dipping down to the column of your throat.

A mumble of approval rumbles in his chest, his teeth nipping at your skin and you know he’s gonna leave a mark.

“Say my name baby,” he mutters into your skin, snaking a hand between the two of you so he can rub at your clit through your pajama bottoms.

“Oh Nico-“

An all too familiar ringtone makes you both freeze, his phone vibrating in the pocket of his sweats. Laying your head back on the mattress, you try not to sigh in disappointment as he huffs and moves back to dig the stupid phone out.

“What?” He answers, still kneeling between your spread legs. His left hand still strokes up and down your thigh, his eyes following the movement like he’s trying not to look too closely at you.

“Timo man I can’t do this right now- no I-what do you mean?”

By now you know this a call Nico’s going to have take care of himself so you gently push yourself up, taking a hold of his hand and sitting criss cross in front of him.

Nico huffs, squeezing your fingers. “Yeah, come stay with her. I’ll be there in 20.”

Without so much as a goodbye he’s hanging up the phone, tucking it back into his pocket. Nico sighs, hanging his head and taking a few deep breaths. You’re unsure if he’s trying to prepare for whatever was on the other end of that call or if he’s trying to get rid of the hard-on you were previously grinding on so you just stroke through his hair, pushing the loose strands out of his face.

After a moment he rises from the bed, bringing your hand up to his lips for an apologetic kiss. “M’so sorry baby but I gotta go. Timo got word that the Rags are screwing around on this side of the river.”

You simply nod, knowing this was part of the deal when you decided to be with Nico. He leans down again, kissing your lips just once with gratitude. “I promise I’ll be back soon and we’ll finish this.”

Giggling, you shoo him away and lay back on the bed to watch him slip on his zip up and shove his feet into some shoes.

“Timo is coming to stay with you until I get back.” Nico says, his tone all business as he stuff his things into his pockets and slides his ring back onto his pinky finger.

“He didn’t have to,” you say, climbing up from the bed when Nico begins digging through the top dresser drawer. You reach into his nightstand, grabbing the pocket knife you know he was looking for.

“I would’ve been fine,” you approach him, holding the knife out. “But thank you.”

Nico smiles, taking the weapon from you with a chaste kiss. “S’just in case,” he explains, tucking his hand into his jacket pocket. You reach for his necklace, pull out the Devils horn charm and cross so that it gleams on the dark fabric of his track suit.

“Ok, I’ll be back soon baby girl.” Nico says in goodbye and you press a kiss to his cheek before walking him down to the garage. Just as he’s leaving, the familiar headlights of Timo’s BMW pull in the drive and you head to the living room, ready for a movie night with your best friend.

The sun hasn’t even begun to rise when you wake up, disturbed by the empty space on the bed next to you. On your nightstand, the alarm clock reads 3:47 and you frown when you realize it’s been hours since Nico left.

Pushing back the covers, you tiptoe away from the bed and towards the door. If Nico’s not home, you doubt Timo has actually gone to bed so you carefully pad down the stairs and to the living room.

Just as you suspected, Timo is pacing back and forth in front of the couch, the dog watching him with alert eyes. You enter the room, reaching down to pet your good boy when he slinks down from the couch to sit by your feet.

“Haven’t heard from him?” You ask when Timo looks up from his phone at you. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, hair mussed like he’s been tugging at it. “Like at all?”

Timo shakes his head, a guilty frown tugging his lips down. A surge of anger flushes through you and you almost throw something at him for it. He should’ve woken you up hours ago when I became clear that something was wrong.

“What phone does he have with him?” You ask, swallowing down your frustration and anxiety. Nico taught you what to do, how to act. You know how to be in charge.

“His red one but the signal went out at 12 and I haven’t been able to ping it.”

Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest and push past him. Like a lost puppy he follows you, as does your actually puppy. Nico’s office is unlocked, the door cracked open and you push inside with the two stragglers right behind you.

“What are you doing?”

You sit at his desk, shaking the mouse to wake up his computer and the bright screen burns at your tired eyes. Clicking out of Nico’s account, you quickly pull up the one you’d made when you moved in.

Timo comes to stand behind you, watching you type in your childhood nickname as the user and NicosHotA$$$ for the password. He snickers behind you and in any other situation you’d probably giggle with him, but you’re still upset that he didn’t wake you earlier.

“Does he know you have this?” Timo asks, leaning in closer over your shoulder. You quickly pull up the software you were looking for, the login to the tracking app popping up. You enter the same credentials, only hesitating for a moment. You haven’t used this software since you set it up, not having a reason to. It was for emergencies and emergencies only.

“No he doesn’t,” you finally answer, logging in and letting the map load. After a brief second of buffering, the screen focuses in on a bright red dot sitting just off to the side of the Hudson River.

“You chipped him?!”

Scoffing, you snatch a piece of paper off the oak desk and a ball point pen, scribbling the address down.

“No I chipped his watch,” you respond “after he assigned you to follow me 24/7 I figured I deserved the same kind of security for him.”

You log out, making sure to put everything back how Nico had it before shutting the computer off. “Let’s go, you’re driving.” You instruct, “I just need to change real quick.”

Timo physically bawks, looking at you like you’re crazy. “Nico will kill me if I let you go anywhere.”

“If you don’t, I’ll kill you and then I’ll kill Nico.”

Your threat hangs in the air, Timo now silent as he just looks at you. He must be analyzing his next move, trying to figure out a way to stop you but he knows his place.

He may technically be Nico’s right hand man, but you’re the bosses girl. When Nico’s not in charge, you are. It’s unspoken, but he knows.

“Fine,” he agrees. “I’ll go start the car.”

~~~~

Nico has no idea how long he's been sitting in this stupid warehouse with this stupid cloth between his teeth and this stupid thick ass rope around his wrists and ankles. If it had been duct tape he'd been outta here hours ago, back home rolling around in the sheets with you where he belongs.

But this isn't his first rodeo with the Rags, and they've learned their lesson about tying any of his men up with duct tape. Nico's trained them well, taught them to take care of themselves. Especially since the Rags have a thing for holding the Devs hostage, though this is the first time they've managed to grab him.

It's because he was distracted, head still swirling with thoughts of his hands on your thighs, his finger touching and teasing you, winding you up until you were crying his name.

Next thing he knew, his little rumble in the bar alley with Trouba and Kreider was him being sucker punched unconscious and waking up in this stupid, bitter cold room.

And no one has come to talk to him, to threaten him, nothing. It's all feeling useless.

He's wiggling his wrists, the skin raw and no doubt bleeding now, when he hears stirring above his head. His head is a little too foggy to really put the sounds together, but he's certain he hears a body thud to the ground. There's some more grunting and thuds, and Nico relaxes a bit when he realizes Timo probably sent Siegs or Haula after him.

For the first time that night he hears the grinding of a door being yanked open, followed by heavy footsteps and he wishes his stupid chair was facing the other way so he could see who it is. He doesn't have to play the guessing game too long though before the large figure of Timo is stepping into view.

Nico almost yanks his way through the rope at the sight of him, thrashing against his restraints as he glares at his brother in disbelief. One job, Timo had one job, stay with you always. For all they now this could've been planned, Rags could be hounding on you right now because him and Timo left you vulnerable.

"Would you calm down she's fine." Timo grumbles in defense, tucking his handgun into the waist of his pants in favor of yanking the cloth out of Nico's mouth.

"I told you not to leave her alone, fucker! She's-"

He's cut-off by an all too familiar voice. "Sneaky, right?" You run your fingers through his sweaty hair at the nape of his neck, soothing him for just a moment before working at the knot in the cloth. It loosens, drops from his neck and into his lap.

Timo has retrieved his gun again, keeping a close eye on the door behind Nico. The click of a blade cuts through the room and the rope on his wrists goes taut.

“What are you doing here?” He grumbles, wincing at the pull on his wounds.

You finish cutting through the rope, his arms falling limply behind him. “Sorry my love,” you murmur, fingers gently taking in the torn skin. “I was just saving you.”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you sounded sweet, like you were coddling him as you realized he was hurt. But he does know better, and he can sense the impatience and annoyance bubbling under your words.

Oh he’s in for an ear full.

Still, he’s never been one to back down so he challenges you a bit. “I have men for that, ya know?”

You release his wrist and he slowly draws his hands around and into his lap, flexing his shoulders to try and get the blood back to his fingertips. He can already feel the ache in his chest and back and he wonders how the fuck you let him hold you like that on his more aggressive nights in bed.

“Men that couldn’t even find you.” You quip back, and he catches your hip as you go to step around him. His hold doesn’t stop you though, and he watches as you kneel down in front of him to cut through the rope at his ankles.

You’ve listened to him well it seems, or just really paid attention because any identifying marks of yours have been covered. Head to toe in black, thick sturdy boots that mimic the ones he wears on particularly dangerous deals, and all jewelry removed. Well everything except the thin gold chain on your neck, the charm tucked into your long sleeve shirt. And the tell-tell red bandana knotted around your face, hiding everything but your eyes.

Smart girl, he thinks, trying not to smile. He’ll praise you for it later, when you’re somewhere safe.

The rope snaps free, your eyes peering up at him through your dark lashes and the bits of your hair that hangs over your face. You don’t say anything, gaze dark and angry as you flick the knife away and sit back on your haunches. Nico immediately stretches his legs out around you, belly swirling when he takes in the sight of you kneeling between his thighs.

You raise an eyebrow, lifting your hand to hold the knife out to him and he realizes you’ve managed to get back his pocketknife. He melts a bit at that, grateful that you thought to look for it, that you always remember its ties to his family back in Switzerland.

He takes it from you, fingers still a bit numb as they wrap around the weapon. Now that your hand is free you lean in, holding onto his knee for balance while the other one reaches up for his face.

You gently stroke right under his eye, a sting of pain ripping through his cheek and he realizes that’s where he’d been hit. You frown, eyebrows pinching together. “Hopefully you haven’t ruined that pretty face with a scar, boss.”

Behind you, Timo snickers and Nico glares at him, catches the way he’s fighting to not look at the two of you and instead watch the door. Whatever he did up there must have been enough damage though because it’s dead silent.

“I know a good doc,” he replies casually, nodding for you to stand up. “She won’t let it scar.”

He rises with you, wobbly on his feet as the feeling rushes back to them and his head spins for a moment. You immediately press into his side, slipping under his arm like you belong there, and steady him.

“She might,” you say flatly, and he chuckles, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. He really is proud of you, can’t believe that you came to get him even if he’s gonna give you grief about it.

It’s his job to be tough on you, on everyone.

“Let’s get moving,” Timo cuts in, looking to Nico for his next move. He nods to the door, telling him to the lead way. You’re silent on your feet as you walk with Nico and he makes a mental note to ask you how you manage to do that.

Upstairs, he finds exactly what he expected. Bodies lay limp on the ground, chairs and table strewn about the large room. He can’t make out who is who but he immediately recognizes Trouba laying closest to the door, lip busted and bleeding and the whole side of his face already bruising in what looks like the shape of a boot.

He’ll have to ask Timo about that one too.

~~~~

The rising sun shines through the bedroom windows. Nico runs a towel through his wet hair, wincing at the stiffness in his shoulders and the way the light makes his eyes ache.

Before he can so much as grumble about it, you’re entering the bedroom and hitting the switch on the wall to lower the blackout curtains.

You changed while he was showering, back into the cute set of pink silk pajamas you had on earlier in the night and Nico wants to rub his hands all over you, let the soft fabric soothe his angry wrists.

But you haven’t said a word since leaving the warehouse, except to send Timo off to bed in a guest bedroom and instructing he take the dog with him so he doesn’t get lonely.

Tossing the towel into the hamper, Nico collapses onto the bottom of the bed, shoulders slumping forward as he watches you move around the room. You ignore his gaze, digging through the drawers and bathroom until you come up with a first aid kit.

Finally, you approach him, eyes avoiding his as you kneel in front of him again. Compliant, Nico parts his thighs further you, silently begging you to come closer.

You don’t though, instead gently taking ahold of his ankles and drawing his feet out to you. He lets you manhandle him, relaxes into the mattress as you softly massage numbing cream into the bruises on his skin.

And then you’re moving closer, taking a hold of his hands with your soft, warm fingers and he gives in, feels everything ache in his chest.

“Baby,” he mumbles pathetically, “talk to me? Please?”

You trace over the mark his watch left on his wrist, face still hiding from him. “I chipped your watch,” you admit quietly. “That’s how I found you.”

He can’t say he’s angry or upset with the news. He’s the one that taught you about surveillance, about protection. How in this life, you have to be used to someone always watching you. He just wasn’t used to anyone watching him.

He is surprised though, at how you managed that. The watch was from Switzerland, designed by his family and gifted to him. He doesn’t know how you got the chance to chip it.

“Ok,” he replies, making sure to keep his tone even. “You saved me, ya know?”

You reach into the kit for a roll of bandages. “Yeah,” you wrap the gauze around his right wrist, actions a bit rougher than before “and you gave your men orders to leave me at home like a dog.”

Nico frowns at your town, bitter and biting. You don’t talk to him like that, in all the time you’ve been together he’s never heard you like that. It makes his heart sink, makes him want to crumble to his knees in front of you right now.

You finish wrapping his other wrist, dropping his hands heavily into his own lap. Then you finally look up at him, eyes angry and disappointed. Nico can’t help himself, he takes a hold of your face and draws you up towards him.

“Don’t give me those stupid puppy eyes, Nico.” You mutter, voice rising as he pouts down at you. “I found you, I got Timo off his ass, I got your knife back, and I got you back.

“I did it all and you didn’t trust me to! For fucks sake I knocked out stupid Trouba and you still wanted to rip Timo’s head off for-“

“You knocked Trouba on his ass?” Nico cuts off, a smirk spreading across his face. The sight of him dimples must soften something in you because he manages to get you to your feet.

“That was your cute little boot print on his face?” He prods, coaxing you into sitting on his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You reach for the chain around his neck, fingers taking a hold of the pendant and stroking over the devil horns. Bashful, a tiny smile plays at your face and Nico can’t stop himself for kissing at the tip of your nose.

“He messed with you,” you mumble, softer than you’ve spoken to him all night. “And I love you and being a Dev means protecting who you love.”

Nico’s breathless, swept off his feet by the earnest of your words and the memory of them. The same words he’d told you before giving you your own devil horn pendant. He’d said it soften up the conversation, because telling you everything about being a mob wife was rough, but at the end of the day he meant it.

The Devils are a family, a family built by love and he was so fucking smart and lucky to bring you into this. He’d never ever gotten close to even discussing a prinzessin with his family, until he met you.

Obviously that was the best decision he’s ever made.

“You made me proud,” he cups your jaw, urging you to look up at him. “You always do, but especially tonight.

“I was scared to let you get to this side of things because I’ve never done this. I’ve never ruled with someone but after tonight, I know I couldn’t have asked for a better prinzessin to have by side.”

Your teeth sink into your lip, a blush rising in your neck and ears but your eyes have gone all moony and lovesick. He loves that look on you.

“That’s a big word for you to use,” you mumble, a hopeful lilt in your tone. “I don’t even have a ring yet.”

Chuckling, he presses a kiss to your cheek and then your chin and finally on your smiling lips. “You will,” he confirms “and you’ll by my princess.”

You tangle your hands in his hair, giggling as you yank him into another kiss. Nico lets himself get lost in you, pulls you close and holds you tight in his large palms. His brain swirls, the pain of his injuries fading as he losses his breath and himself.

His hands are wondering towards your ass when you pull back from him, lips swollen and messy as you giggle.

“Enough of that boss, I gotta fix that pretty face of yours and you need rest.”

Yeah, the best fucking decision he’s ever made was letting you into his life.

#nico hischier #mob boss au #mob boss nico hischier #new jersey devils #nhl #nj devils #nico hischer x reader

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steleir · 7 days

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ꔫ MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE ଓ. itoshi rin never loved anyone ever since what his brother did, always guarding his fragile heart with an iron fist, until you come along and ruin everything.

ׅ 𓈒 ⁺ ꔫ 0.8k wc ଓ : fem! reader x itoshi rin, fluff, friends to lovers, mentions of fights, injuries, not proofread, lemme know if i missed any.

when it came to love, rin was fundamentally a fool. on top of that, he was a coward. love wasn't his passion, nor was it on his bucket list. at least, not since what happened with his brother, love was never an option. love and get your heart broken again; don't love and stay the same. rin and referred to the latter always.

it was a sort of unspoken rule to himself, that he wouldn't love. maybe once he beats his brother, or maybe not. he honestly didn't care, nor did he think about it much, until his mother would bug him about it.

but then you came along, as though the devil, and you absolutely ruined it all.

yet no matter how he likes to think of you, there was no denying that he was in love, infatuated even. you we’re all he needed. but how could he possibly admit that?

part of him hates you for that—how you just barged through the gates that guarded his fragile heart, which was still trying to fix itself no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he was okay now. that he fixed himself.

“you’re an idiot, you know that, itoshi rin?” you asked as you disinfected his injury, making him hiss and the feeling. he simply looked at you blankly, like he always did when both managed to end up in your bathroom with you bandaging him up after his nth fight of the week. “it’s worse this time.” you stated, looking at him with teary eyes. “rin, you're going to get yourself seriously hurt,” you said as he brought up his thumb to wipe away the tear that slowly fell down your face. “i promise i won't get into another one,” he mumbled, an obvious lie, one you could see right through, but he needed to say something.

“you said that last time, asshole.” you grumbled while rolling your eyes. he hated when you did that; he hated when you were mad at him; he didn’t know why exactly, but he hated it. it made his heart throb. you looked pretty with your teary eyes and the bright pink tint that covered your cheeks and nose, but he still hated it.

“right,” you said, getting back on your feet and wiping away the remaining tears. “i’m done. you can leave now and get into another fight i don’t care.” you shrugged and walked out of your bathroom, leaving it messy with the bandages and cotton lying on the floor and some scattered on the toilet where rin had sat.

“i don’t want to; i want to stay here for a bit,” he said, and you turned slightly. “i said i don’t care.” you repeated your past words, and the tall boy walked towards you, easily towering over you. “why are you so mad?” he raised his brow, holding your wrist tightly. “because i care about you, rin. i don’t know if

one day you're going to show up to my house with a broken limb and bleeding everywhere because you're so easily provoked by people!” you yelled, your eyes quickly tearing up again. “and i don’t like that thought; i don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“sorry,” he mumbled, averting his eyes from yours.

in that moment, he felt like he could just pull you into a kiss for eternity. no one’s ever cared for him like this. you took a deep breath, staring into his intimidating eyes, waiting for a thought on what to do next to pop up. rin hesitated as he opened his mouth to speak, this was probably the worst time to confess, right? definitely. but this is itoshi rin we’re talking about here, he doesn’t exactly care. he held your other wrist as he looked you in the eyes, hoping you’d get the sign, waiting for a sort of green light.

you nodded slowly, and his lips quickly smashed against your own. time seemed to stop in the moment, it was just you and him, like it has been for the past few years. his mouth moved quickly and sloppily against yours, was getting greedy. his hands held your waist softly, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer than was even possible.

your lips are so soft; you know how long i’ve been waiting for this?

slowly he pulled away and straightened his back, completely quiet. he looked at you shyly. “i love you.” he murmured as low as a whisper, but you still managed to hear. before he knew it he was trapped in a hug “for the longest time.”

you didn’t say anything, only hugging him and letting some tears race down your cheeks.

you two stayed like that for a while, complete silence; you had all the time in the world.

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dsiiress · 4 months

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POISON

ain’t nothin’ better for me now, than your poison baby..

this is an original work and was written and published by @dsiiresluvsu on tumblr. this is my work, do not steal.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

cw!!- perv!chosokamo x fem!reader, panty stealing, switchy(?), facesitting, edging (sort of), unprotected sex, piv, creampie, NOT proofread, 2.4k wc, mdni!

when choso kamo received an email saying he’d soon be rooming with someone else, he didnt expect you to be so…

bitter.

“ugh.” you rapped on his door. music was blasting from chosos door while you were on the phone, and it was disrupting your conversation. “is that what you waanntt? youuuuu…” you heard maki sing along to the lyrics. you shot her a glare through the camera while she giggled. you knocked once again, harder and louder this time. “i swear if he doesnt open up right now i-”

“huh?” choso questioned as he opened the door. he towered over you, was shirtless, toned abs glistening, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, hanes boxers peeking from underneath. his black hair was down and damp, instead of his usual ponytails, partially covering his brown droopy eyes. it was quite obvious he had finished showering, the smell of strong cologne filling your nostrils. “um, i…” you shook your head, attempting poorly to keep your composure. “look, im on the phone. could you please turn your, er, emo, loser music down?” you sneered.

“oh, sure..” he mumbled, closing the door behind him. you rolled your eyes in disbelief, returning to your room.

choso lowered the volume on his “emo” music, then sat back in his gaming chair, continuing his business. before you had disrupted him.

‿︵‿︵‿︵

“mmgh, haah~” he moaned. he had just finished showering, now laying in bed with his cock in one hand, and your lacy white panties in another. he pumped his hand on his length, squeezing slightly, trying to imitate the tightness of your cunt. he brought his pantied filled hand up to his nose, taking in your wonderful scent. again, wishing it was you. wishing it was you sitting on his face. oh, he'd eat you so good, you'd stop with that bitchy attitude of yours. stop treating him like this, acting so hard to get. choso could feel himself getting close, picking up the pace while stroking his cock.

bang bang bang! he shot up in his bed, dropping everything, startled. he could make out your voice behind the door, getting up and hurrying to put his boxers and sweats back on. he heard your knocks once more, interrupting them by opening his door. your annoyed expression told him everything, but was he even paying attention to your words? no. not at all. his eyes laid upon your beautiful figure, your white tank hugging your tits perfectly, gray sweatpants that contoured your hips and thighs. his eyes moved up towards your perfect lips, blabbering away about some “phone….loser music…down?” he zoned back in, nodding. “oh. sure.”

fuck. the way you talked to him. it drove him wild. the way you would lecture him for leaving the toilet seat up, yelling when he would leave windows open during the cold hours of the night, sickness surprising you the morning after, and obviously, blasting his loud music. the way your lips fixed when you called him stupid, or a dumbass, it made him feel so small. he loved it. how you made someone as big as him, feel so little compared to yourself.

‿︵‿︵‿︵

choso was gone for the day, leaving you peacefully alone in the shared dorm. you decided to pick up on some chores, you had nothing better to do since you had caught up on all of your due assignments. picking up your soiled clothes, you noticed that a majority of undergarments were missing. you checked high and low, behind the washer and dryer, underneath your bed, everywhere.

except for one place. chosos bedroom.

you doubted they would be in there, but you had to go into there anyways to pick up his dirty laundry. you opened his door, his sweet smell hitting your nose. his room was surprisingly neat, his bed was made, carpet was vacuumed, night stand was littered with a gum wrapper and two books. his gaming chair was tucked neatly into the desk, clothing hamper next to it, halfway filled with his clothing.

you picked it up, about to leave his room when a white cloth caught your eye. it was peeking from his desk drawer, with a familiar lacy patterning. what the hell?! are those…my panties? you thought to yourself. opening the drawer a bit farther, you realized..they were. the same missing panties you were looking for. your heart raced, thoughts whizzing in and out of your mind. those same thoughts paused when you heard the door behind you click open.

“w-what are you doing?”

“i could ask you the same thing!” you shrieked. “you stole my panties! youre- youre a freak!” you yelled at him, furious. “i, um… look i can explain..” choso stammered, a red blush creeping on his cheeks. his hands became clammy as sweat beads dripped down his face, onto his eyebrow piercings. “yeah? then fucking explain this!” you walked up to him, shoving your panties into his face. “you stealing my panties? what are you, some kind of perv-”

chosos lips stole your voice, making you quiet immediately. his hands around your waist, pulling you closer, whimpering into the kiss. pulling away, you looked at his face, scanning his expression. his hungry eyes bored into yours, lips quivering.

“i-i’m sorry, ‘really am..” he whined. you could feel something poking your stomach. was that..you looked down. yep. “you’re really hard? ugh, you really are a freak.” you said. instead of being annoyed, you were surprisingly turned on, cursing yourself. you shoved him onto his bed, his legs spread while he sat back. his pants made it easy to make out the large imprint of his member. damn, how big is he?! you stared in awe, taking in the sight before you. “is something wrong?” he murmured nervously, his chest heaving. “no...you said you're really sorry right?” you asked him, an idea popping into your head. “y-yes ma’am, im sorry n’ i promise it wont happen again..” he stuttered. “then prove it.”

you kneel down before him, bringing down the waistband of his pants. his boxers perfectly outlined the length and thickness of his restrained cock. placing your hand on it, you slowly started to stroke him through his underwear. choso let out a whiny sigh, locking his eyes on you, feeling his body tense. you tugged off his boxers, his member freeing itself at last. the first thing that caught your eye was his swollen, reddish pink tip, beads of precum dripping. the base of his cock was stiff, a vein or two decorating it. it wasn’t too big lengthwise, but god his girth was incredible. you took him in your hands and started lapping at the tip, earning a breathy whine from his parted lips. you started going faster, feeling his tip start to pulsate against your tongue. “fuck, m’gna.. cumm..” choso groaned. you knew this, but instead of letting him feel the sweet sensation of relief, you stopped.

“w-wha..? why’d you stop?..”

“this is your punishment for stealing my panties, loser. hopefully itll teach you a lesson or two.” you told him. “now, kneel on the floor and open your mouth…”

choso obeyed almost immediately, opening his mouth at your request. you slid off your shorts, revealing your bare pussy. as much as you tried to hide it, choso noticed that it was practically sopping wet. aligning yourself with his mouth, you sat on his face, a moan abruptly leaving your lips. choso wasted no time and got to work.

he was no pro, but he had been with a few girls before to know a bit about what he was doing. he flicked his tongue against your bud, swirling circles around the sensitive little spot. you cooed in pleasure, grabbing his hair, trying to force his tongue deeper into your hole to relieve the ache down there. your juices coated his chin, slowly dripping down his neck. you were so messy, but choso didn’t care. he dreamed of having you on top of him like this, groaning and whining on his mouth. you started to shake a little, but he grabbed a tight hold of your plush thighs to balance you. looking down, you saw his deep brown eyes, pooling into yours, filled with lust and hunger. he then started sucking at your clitoris, making your whole body shiver with pleasure. your heart started racing and you could feel your breath hitching. you were close. so close to cumming into the mouth of your roommate who you swore you hated. everything about it felt so naughty.

“r-right there cho..” you cried out, as he ghosted his tongue along your pretty pussy. he was surprised at this new nickname choice you had came up with for him. cho…that’s a first.

“m’close..im gonna-“ you shut your eyes as tight as you could, hips bucked into his mouth as you reached your peak. choso quickly drunk it up, savoring your sweet taste. “mmm, you taste s’good, miss..” choso murmured, making your cheeks flush. you released his hair from the tight grasp of your palms, and dismounted his face. you now sat on top of him, in a straddling position, rubbing your still sensitive area against his. circling your hips against him earned you a soft hiss of pleasure from his mouth.

“you want me to put it in?” you teased, holding his tip just infront of your entrance. choso nodded, his greedy eyes rolling back a bit. “well, you’ve been so naughty lately.. i need to hear you say it. tell me how badly you want to be inside of me..” you purred into his ear.

“i wanna be in you so badly, miss. need to feel how tight and warm you are, please ma’am.. ill make you feel so good, just pleasee…” the young man pleaded beneath you. he was so needy, so desperate. you slowly started to sink down onto his member, wincing from how thick he was. you were worried he was going to break your insides as he went deeper and deeper, your mouth going agape from how good it felt. choso leisurely started thrusting into you, quickly grabbing ahold of your hips, his cock being swallowed by warmth. you felt him start to mold your walls, the thickness filling your hole up completely.

“mmnagh, you feel so good…” you groaned while feeling your brain turn to mush. chosos cheeks turned a light red, surprised at how quickly you melted infront of him. taking advantage of this, he increased the pace, causing more poorly muffled moans to spill from your mouth, but quickly shutting you up by interlocking his lips on yours. he held your face sweetly, continuing his thrusts, making them slightly faster now. he pulled away, moving his lips onto your neck, sucking slightly.

“w-what are you doing?!” you tried to yell, which failed poorly, making it turn into a moan. his cock rutted in and out of your slit, grazing against your g-spot. “marking my mama..” choso panted heavily.

the sound of your skin slapping against his filled his room, drowning out the music that was playing in the background. rhythmic sounds of pwap, pwap, pwap, rung in your ears, making you clench around him.

“s’t-tight…gonna cum…” he shakily breathed out, long black eyelashes fluttering as his thrusts became sloppier by the second. you felt a tightness in your stomach, indicating that your high was approaching as well.

“mm, me too!…” you gasped, bouncing on his cock, as your vision went hazy. “cum inside of me, p-please.. i need it…” you begged the raven haired man beneath you, making him lose his mind completely. the band in your stomach popped as you rode out your high, feeling chosos essence seep into your sensitive cunt. his eyes rolled back as he thrusted deeply a few more times, making sure his seed wouldn’t drip out of you.

you rested your head onto his shoulder as he did the same, your breaths being the only thing the two of you could hear. choso pecked your cheek as he told you, “you’re so pretty, mama…m’sorry..”

“i-its okay..” you managed to mumbled out, making a small smirk decorate the young mans face.

“maybe i should steal your panties more often then.”

a/n- this was sort of rushed lmao and i didnt proofread this at ALL😭, i hope you all enjoy it though! love you bbs!!

xo, dsiires

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #luvqupids #anime #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #choso x reader #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #maki zenin

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superbeans89 · 2 years

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Huh. This is pretty much the exact same task they had on NZ2.

And Chris Ramsey immediately made himself a huge target

#taskmaster s13 spoilers #throw a shoe at a toilet roll tower

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somewherebetweendisorder · 6 months

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Touch Starved

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Warnings: slight angst I guess? fluff??

~~~

You were used to Jason coming home broken and bloody. Or at least, you should be used to it after two years, but it always comes as a paralyzing shock when he stumbles through the window, eyes wary as they land on you. Tonight is no exception. Just as he is inside the room, he falls to his knees, looking up at you.

"It's bad tonight," he warns, not quite meeting your eyes.

You step closer with the caution you would use to approach a wounded animal. There are days you forget this is your reality. Days when Gotham City didn't demand your fiance's time and soul. Days when the streets didn't deliver your boyfriend back to you, worse for wear and half dead. Days when the thought of having to stitch Jason up didn't even cross your mind.

Those fleeting pieces of normalcy were what propelled you through these nights. The hope that there would be another sunny day, sitting across from Jason at your favorite cafe, soaking up the heat like the baguette in your hand soaking up the minestrone in your bowl. Spoon froze in space halfway to your mouth as he recounted stories of growing up with Dick and Tim. Love weighed down the air around you, heavy with desire and longing and words you were both too terrified to verbalize. But you knew, you both knew what lingered there, in the tiny space between you.

So with that image in mind, fading in potency as you helped Jason to his feet, brought back to reality, you vowed to get him through tonight so that another day was possible. No matter what it requires of you. No matter how brutal the task, like a lighter held to wax, melting away your optimism.

"No."

The word is a cacophony in your bedroom, not a word he uses on you often. You struggle to remember the last time he said it. You can't. Meeting his eyes, a deep green, like spring foliage, you are alarmed by the apathy projected at you.

"What?"

"Not tonight. I'll do it."

"No, Jason, let me help. Please." You know the edge of panic is unmistakable in your voice, but you don't care. If he shuts you out now, it'll take ages to fix the damage.

He shakes his head but doesn't stop you from helping him into the bathroom and easing him down onto the closed lid of the toilet. He grunts in pain, and you wince, reaching for the first aid kit below the sink. The cache of gauze and hydrogen peroxide was long ago depleted from the original case. You have to buy more every couple of weeks.

Twisting the cap off of the brown bottle you set it on the edge of the counter along with a roll of gauze, a tube of ointment, and a pair of scissors that you just sterilized. You force your mind blank as you avoid his hard stare and hiss of pain as you work off his leather jacket and toss it on the floor. You cut off the black shirt he's wearing. It's beyond saving.

Once his torso is bared you set to work, cleaning the numerous wounds. You press a little too hard on a deep cut and he growls, hand encircling your wrist to stop you.

"Y/N."

"I'm sorry, Jason. I'm sorry. It's just-"

"Y/N," he repeats, firmer this time. "Stop."

He pries the antibacterial-soaked cotton pad from your hand and stands, towering over you.

"I'll finish. Go to bed it's late."

His words are dismissive, and he's already turning away from you, but your hand on his uninjured bicep stops him.

"Jace," your voice breaks on the nickname, your frayed nerves catching up with you. "What's going on? Why are you shutting me out?"

He doesn't answer, keeping his back to you. As the tears begin to track down your face, you trail your fingertips down his skin. The touch is soft, meant to soothe, but it's too much for Jason. He's been touch-starved his whole life, and on his worst days, your affection is overwhelming.

"Just stop!"

"No! It's been too long for you to revert to this self-destructive behavior. Stop shutting me out! Let me love you. This is how I love you. Just- Stop Jason, please."

His eyes finally meet yours, bloodshot and overflowing with emotion. Before you know what's happening he's easing down to his knees again, burying his face in your chest, breathing irregularly.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. It was so close tonight I just-"

"It's okay. It's okay," you repeat, fingers gently combing through his hair.

His lips seek yours out, desperate and hungry. You can sense it all, the toll that tonight took on him and the fear that lingers. You give in to the kiss, parting your lips and allowing him to deepen the kiss. As his hands begin to creep up your sides you struggle to tap back into the rational side of your brain. Mind foggy from the kiss you take a small step back, fingers ghosting over his lips.

"Let's finish getting you cleaned up, Jace. Then you can take me to bed."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd angst #jason todd fluff #jason todd

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noosayog · 8 months

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[... and yet, it's you] - ft. oikawa toru

summary: there's a chinese song with the lyrics 【咸魚白菜也好好味】 which translates to "eating even dried salted fish and bok choi is good." with the meaning that i'm happy with anything as long as it's with you.

wc: 1.3k

for @shibaraki's komorebi collab! thank you for letting me participate, Monty!

1. Sharing a bathroom

The shower is already running when you finally drag yourself out of bed. Your vision is still bleary as you methodically brush your teeth, content to let your mind slowly clear out its sleepy fog to the sound of Oikawa humming in the shower.

You're at the toilet when Oikawa says, "why do you always do that?"

"Do what," you respond.

"Like… let out a little bit of pee before you pee the rest of it out."

You laugh a bit. "You're gonna think it's stupid."

"Just tell me," he says, seriously curious now.

"Once when I was really little, I dreamt that I was peeing in the bathroom but then realized I was still in bed when I woke up to myself wetting the bed."

The shower stops so you can hear Oikawa chuckling. "That wasn't what I was expecting."

"Well, I don't know what you expected but I'm not risking anything. I was traumatized."

"As someone who shares a bed with you, I'm grateful for that."

2. Movie Dates

When you pick up Oikawa's facetime call, you immediately greet him with a "I'm watching a movie and I'm getting to the good part. What do you want?"

He scrunches his nose at you, whining. "Rude!"

"Well?" you prompt. "What do you want?"

"Is it so bad that I missed you and wanted to talk to you?"

You roll your eyes, but affectionately. "I'm putting you on mute."

Oikawa throws out a half-hearted protest but he'll count it as a win that you didn't hang up completely. You mute your side of the line and prop your phone on the tea table facing you, continuing to watch your movie. Oikawa's perfectly content just watching your facial expressions through the small screen and obediently stays quiet.

He mutes his line. too, putting on reruns of an older match but periodically looks over to check in on you. And every time he does, he can't help the grin that stretches on his face as he watches your expressions change scene to scene. Eventually, he keeps his attention glued on your face through the screen, watching your light chuckles and your mouth moving when you exclaim in disbelief over something stupid a character did. By the end of the movie, you’re swiping tears from your eyes and you finally notice that your boyfriend has been watching you.

"Oh my god, Toru," you unmute to say. "That was such a good movie. We have to watch it together next time."

Oikawa's smile widens, eyes crinkling affectionately. "Anything you want, babe."

3. Out Shopping

On a rare Sunday that Oikawa actually takes off, the two of you head to the nearest major shopping mall to pick up some kitchen items. Oikawa keeps a tight grip around your hands as you ooh and ahh at all the colorful things in the mall; one distracted moment and he would lose you in the sea of people.

As you wander to aisles, you pass by the televisions where a rerun of an Olympic volleyball match is playing. Oikawa instinctively slows down to pay attention, taking mental notes of things he should try at tomorrow's practice.

His attention is pulled away when he feels you trying to pry your fingers out of his fists, only able to pull at his hand when his grip tightens.

"Toru," you say, "let go. I want to go see the bowls over there."

"Okay, let's go then," he agrees, tearing his attention away from the screens.

"No," you say, continuing to tug at your joined hands. "You can keep watching. I'll go look myself."

"What? Why? Let's just go together," he offers, but you tug your hand free.

"It's fine," you say, already walking towards the display that has your attention.

"Hey!" he protests, trying to follow your figure that has already blended into the crowds. Even with his towering height, he does his best to follow after you, locking in on the colorful sweater you decided to wear today.

Despite Oikawa having a significant edge over you in the height department, your little legs carry you surprisingly fast as you weave through people moving in every direction. The distance between the two of you grows larger until you finally stop to admire the collection of pottery on the shelves. He hastily closes the distance before you take off again.

"Geez, for someone so short," he punctuates this statement with a heavy hand on your head, leaning heavily on it to dramatically catch his breath, "you sure walk fast."

You swat his hands away and reach up to the top shelf for the set of bowls you like.

He easily grabs them for you and puts them into the basket that he was sure wasn't in your hands when you were still by the TVs. He plucks the basket out of your grip and continues to tease you.

"It's always the short ones that walk like today's the last day of their lives," he laughs.

"Shut up, Toru," you fix him with a scathing glare and he holds his hands up in surrender.

You scoff, but take hold of his hand again, leading him to the next display you want to take a look at. He smiles contentedly now that your hands are joined again. And that's all he really wanted.

4. Bedtime Routine

You’re in bed, all tucked in when Oikawa finally joins you. He quietly prepares for bed and gently gets under the covers so as not to wake you. His arms reach over, ready to pull you in for a good night kiss but he doesn’t get the chance because one of your hands pops out from under the duvet to smack him in the forehead.

“Ow! Why?!” he sputters.

You scowl at him. “How many times do I have to tell you to shut the door when you come in!”

“Okay, okay,” he rubs his forehead but obeys. The door shuts. “Happy?”

You grunt.

He chuckles a bit, charmed at your grumpiness.

He tries again to pull you in, but this time, your hand reaches out to pinch the nearest part of his body. That happens to be his left pec.

“Ouch! What now?”

“Did you open the windows?”

Without complaint, he climbs out of bed again to open the window, allowing a gust of cold night air to swallow the room. He sees your legs wiggle a bit from under the duvet and smiles inwardly.

For the third time, he climbs in bed but stays a good distance away in case he forgot any other part of your night ritual.

You turn around to face him, duvet pulled above your nose so he can only see your eyes.

“Why are you so far?”

“Are you done hurting me?”

You scoff. “As if you even felt any of it.”

“My forehead is red!” he exclaims.

“Fine, stay on that side then.”

Oikawa can’t help but laugh, shifting over to you and wrapping you up in a hug so tight, you let out a squeal when he squeezes. He doesn’t want to let go, so he keeps his arms tight around your torso and turns to lay on his back, pulling you so that your entire body is splayed over his.

“Toru, I’ll squash you!”

He ignores you and just nuzzles gently into neck. You sigh and shift so that you’re chest to chest with him, your head falling to the side so that your noses don’t collide. You’ll never tell him that you like the windows open every night so that the room is cool enough for you to bask in his warmth without overheating.

Oikawa sighs, smoothing his palm over your back. “Good night, baby.”

You murmur it back.

Oikawa thinks this is it. This is the life - just being able to do your silly nighttime routine with you. Your warmth lulls him to sleep and he’s almost there when he feels you prop up, palms pushing hard enough on his chest that it forces an exhale out of his lungs.

“Did you get me a glass of water? You know I get thirsty in the middle of the night.”

He sighs, but obliges all the same.

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hellishjoel · 7 months

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playing hooky

9.2k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter l Next Chapter

summary: Frankie calls in sick for his shift. You simply must investigate.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), mentions of reader previously being on her period, smoking w33d, getting h!gh, swearing, pet names (angel, princess, etc.), handjob if you squint, oral (f! receiving), unprotected p in v, h!gh sex, aftercare, tangled feelings/messy emotions, sitcom vibes

A/N: tune in next time for a special halloween episode of Table for Two!

follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!

“We’re not at the diner right now, y’know? We can,” he pauses to find the right words, seeming to get lost in the beautiful hue of your eyes. “We can take things slow. Wanna take my time with you.”

You purse your lips as you scribble another drawing on your order pad. You’re sitting at one of the empty barstools at the counter, one leg lazily swinging back and forth while the other is brought up under you.

“You’re gonna get hip dysplasia.” Carla, your sarcastic manager, hums as she passes you. She playfully smacks you with her own order pad before she settles down beside you, a loud and tired sigh leaving her ruby-red lips. She rolls her swollen ankles, a side effect of being on her feet all day. A side effect of being alive.

Your eyes lightly screw together, eyebrows knitting in curiosity. “I thought only animals get hip dysplasia.” You trail off and watch her sit with slight confusion. She parts her lips and takes a breath before her face contorts in thought.

Finally, Carla reemerged with a new confidence. “No, baby, because my cousin- my second cousin,” she illustrates all of this with her hands. “They were born with it! I swear, look it up.”

You stifle a giggle before you both hover over your phone in search of the truth via Google. That’s when you clock the time.

Your head swivels to the wall clock and confirms it’s half an hour past five in the evening. “No Frankie tonight?” You ask, eyes still attentive to your phone as you attempt to try and hide any obvious interest or concern. Where the hell was he?

Carla eyed you up and down. Since when did you start caring if Frankie showed up for his shifts or not? She decides not to press it, clearing her throat as she moves off her barstool once she hears the doorbell chime, a new customer sauntering in.

“Just said he was under the weather. And we don’t need another sick line cook, that’s for damn sure. Everyone would be coughin’ and sneezin’ over their undercooked bacon and runny, nasty eggs.” She said with a little umph at the end for distaste.

You sigh and nibble on your thumbnail.

Frankie was a bit of an ass, but he made the shifts go by faster. Yes, even before you started fooling around, he was entertaining.

Let’s see, there was the night he tried to see how many coffee cups he could stack and if he could make a tower to the ceiling - he tried this multiple times, and each attempt left glazed ceramic shards everywhere, to which Carla made him sweep up.

There was another time the diner needed supplies, and Rudy, the owner’s son, sent you and Frankie on an errand run. He pushed you in the cart through nearly the entire store, in search of toilet paper and paper towels, dish soap, and other amenities. Frankie bought you a Redbull at the end of it.

Now, more recently, Frankie fucking pavloved you! Like a damn dog! Every time you worked a shift, you got ferociously horny. You had gotten so used to clocking in, working for a bit, then getting your needs met. And now that you had finished serving time being on your period, you were needy for what you missed while you were surfing the crimson wave.

Your foot, more anxiously now, taps against the metal stand of the barstool you were sitting on, huffing in annoyance hearing that Frankie was ill. The pit in your stomach was already coiling, searching for a release that just wouldn’t be satisfied tonight. Or would it?

You’re not in the back kitchen as much as everyone else, but as the end of your shift wound down and it was nearly ten o’clock, you decided to piece together a panini and a side of fries for Frankie. You thought about how he learned you weren’t feeling good just last week, and he knew how far a simple meal went to make you feel better. Maybe you could do the same for him. And that was it. You swear there were no ulterior motives. Just a nice coworker bringing a bite to eat.

You yank your phone from your uniform. Your fingerprints smear your phone screen with grease from the fries.

text me your address if you’re still up

frankie (work) Huh?

You have to will yourself not to roll your eyes.

read the first message again and ask me if you’re still confused

frankie (work) Okay sassy pants 194 Rivercrest Apartments #501

His stupid reply leaves a broken, twitchy smile on the right side of your mouth. Stupid asshole.

Once the restaurant closes, your clunky car takes you across town to Frankie’s apartment. Your gleamy, tired vision catches the streaks from passing cars and street lamps. You pull into a visitor parking spot and let out a disgruntled sigh as you sit in silence, waiting in your idling car.

A weird part of you is nervous. Overthinking. Was this taking it too far, helping him out while he’s sick?

You push aside any nerves and force yourself out of the car, a death grip on the doggy bag of food you had packed him. The evening Texas air tickles your bare legs, trying to adjust your uniform under your jacket after it got smushed around in the car. You buzz his number before you hear the entrance’s lock click, allowing you in.

Glancing around for an elevator is hopeless. The entrance leads you straight to a set of stairs, and you clench your jaw in annoyance. God dammit. You were not a woman who prayed to the cardio gods.

Your lungs feel strained, and your feet ache, desperate to sit down after your shift and the mild hike up to Frankie’s apartment. You rap your knuckles against his door in disdain, lips parted with a few light pants for breath as you wait. The door had a few random dents and marks, obvious trails of someone moving items in and out of the apartment over time. The numbers on his door were crooked, the paint chipped. Did he have to live in such a sketchy place? It looked like the birthplace of tetanus.

There were a few heavy footsteps on the other side before the door jangled open. And a very healthy, Frankie opened the door. Your face fell, and your eyebrows furrowed. A heavy whiff of weed smacked you in the face, and you swore it nearly gave you a contact high, even from the hallway.

Frankie was all too happy to see you here. You drove all the way to his apartment just to see him. His face was dripping in a smirky grin. He barely fit through the door frame, his large broad shoulders and tall stature filled the entire rectangular entrance. He crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against his door. He was perfectly fucking fine.

“Hey, princess. Surprised to see you-”

Your lips purse and your eyes screw tight as you smack him with his bag of food. “What the hell-” smack, “is wrong with you! Fuckin-” smack, “asshole!”

He’s slow to defend himself at first, letting you exhaust your hits as you fist the brown paper bag in annoyance. Finally on the last hit, he swipes the bag from your hand and sighs. He’s trying to dial down his stupid smirk, but it ends up turning into this stomach-twisting, sweet smile.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and chew on the inside of your cheek. “Carla told me you were sick.”

“I am sick.” Frankie playfully defended, standing straight and shrugging his shoulders with a half-innocent smile. “Sick.. and tired of working.” He laughs at his own joke, and you bite back a smile. Such a fucking dork.

You’re at a weird standoff outside of his apartment. It’s like he’s holding your invitation to enter over your head, and out of your reach. He wants you to ask. You want him to ask. You’re both so goddamn stubborn. You cross your arms and stand straight, eyeing him down.

Frankie rolls his eyes, his smile breaking into a larger one as he grabs your wrist and pulls you inside. “So fuckin’ difficult.” You hide your smile as your face lightly glides against his chest, unintentionally inhaling his scent. By the looks of his hair, he was fresh from a shower.

Frankie closes the door behind you, and his front brushes against your back as you stand in the tiny entrance hallway to his apartment. Music was playing deeper inside.

His hands gently settle themselves on your arms, slowly coasting his warmth up and down your goosebump-covered skin. You inhale slowly, your back lightly resting back against his front. He was so easy to sink into. But then you remember how he bailed on work today, and you jut your elbow into his gut. He lets out a puff of air at the force you hit him with.

“You’re such an ass ditching work. Ditching Carla.” You say as you step away from him and invite yourself further in, exiting the dark hallway and working your way further into the apartment. “We had to make do-it-all Paul step into the kitchen. Do you know how terrifying that is? Such a dick, Frankie.”

“And you’re so sweet for bringin’ me food.” You hear him rifle through the paper bag, digging out his packaged food, and seeing him smile at the contents. “Thanks. You shouldn’t have.” He brushes past you and towards the kitchen while you stand in the living room.

You didn’t concern yourself much with Frankie up until recent events, it was odd to see his evil lair. Okay, he wasn’t evil, but you know what I mean. You take in as many important details as you can while you slowly peel off your jacket and toss it on his couch.

It’s quaint, really. He has no other furniture in the living room besides a couch, which you feel is by design. It sits perfectly opposite his mounted flatscreen. The walls are plain beige but are decorated with band and movie posters. You admire one that was purposely framed, unlike the others, with signatures. You didn’t recognize the band, but by their look, they seemed like an 80s rocker group.

Below his flatscreen was an impressive vinyl collection, a record spins, and you recognize it as the melody you initially heard upon entering. It was serene, jazzy almost.

“This is what you listen to when you’re alone?” You tease, kneeling down and flicking through a few album covers to see his taste. It was expansive, to say the least. There were only a fair few that you recognized. TOTO, ABBA, Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, Metallica, a little Van Halen, and a whole lot of The Beatles.

Frankie sucks the salt from the fries off his fingers, seeing he’s already munched on half his panini. “It’s something I listen to when I’m stoned.” He half-jokes, a slight smile on his face. So that’s what he’s been up to.

“You called in so you could lay around your apartment and get high all day?” Your tone is playfully judging, but he gives you a proud nod, not a care in the world behind those slightly glazed eyes.

“I didn’t really lay around all day.” His tone is softer since you’re both so close. He’s standing just to the right of where you’re kneeling down, your head could lay against his thigh if you wanted. “I was trying out some new recipes and shit.” He mutters as he points a thumb behind him and to the kitchen. You glance up and notice his pretty curls in the light. You don’t often see him without his hat or his bandana. Come to think of it, you don’t really see him outside of his yellow-stained apron.

Your eyes slowly took Frankie in, seeing him casually for the first time outside of work was startling. He was big. Tall and broad, with squishy thighs and a soft tummy, strong arms, and defined biceps. He was comfortably relaxing in a pair of black basketball shorts that landed just above his knees, eyeing a few tattoos by the hem. On his upper half was a tattered, well-loved Lakers shirt with a small tear at the shoulder, which has since been sewn closed. He had a little bracelet on, one of those leather brown ones that twisted around his wrist, accompanied by a spherical, multicolor beaded one.

Your eyes linger for a hair too long, and now he’s already smirking at you. “Like what you see, princess?” God, that stupid fucking nickname needed a break. Heat shoots up your spine nonetheless, and you have trouble staring daggers at him like you usually would.

You huff a breath through your nose and stand up on your feet, raising your eyebrow at him. “What do you mean you trying new recipes? You can actually cook?” It sounds rude and sarcastic, but you thought Frankie just goofed around at work and cooked for the cash, not as a hobby. You slowly make your way past him, eyeing his kitchen in the process.

There are recipe books, honest to god recipe books. Big ones, small ones. Different categories of food outlined on the covers and spines. And his kitchen was a chaotic mess, with multiple cutting boards of varying sizes across his already limited counter space. There were bright-colored vegetables cut up and diced, the scraps having been tossed in a spare plastic bag sitting on the sidelines. There was an open bottle of soy sauce and another for sesame oil, a little tin of cornstarch, and diced chicken sizzling in oil on a frying pan.

You take a few steps in further, your sneakers landing on linoleum as you really smell what’s simmering in a large skillet. Mushrooms, bell peppers, green onions, broccoli, and peas are cooking in a thick sauce, coating them amidst freshly minced garlic onion. Your lips part as you inhale, and you can’t believe it. You don’t even know what it is, but it smells heavenly.

You finally have to ask, because hunger is carving a hole in your stomach. “What are you making?”

Frankie parks his hands on his hips and looks at you with knitted eyebrows. “What? You’ve never had stir fry before?”

You purse your lips and reach for the spatula, looking to Frankie for reassurance, to which he nods his head. Go for it.

You smile as the vegetables sizzle once you push them around on the pan, relishing in the attention as you allow the other less glazed vegetables to catch some heat from the burner. Frankie hums, like he’s debating something, like he’s learned something from his little experimentation. He reaches past you, his front brushing against your shoulders as he reaches around you and adds a little brownish-amber liquid to the pan. It sizzles, splashes, and dances across the different vegetables, which makes you grin.

You were never big into cooking, especially since you started working at Tommy’s Diner. You’ve seen enough grease to last a lifetime. You were fine settling in on the couch with a bowl of cereal and a glass of cheap wine. You saved making extravagant dishes for when you had a date over, and even then, that was risky.

But there was something about Frankie actually knowing how to cook cuisine that you liked. “I didn’t know you knew how to make dishes besides burgers and fries.”

He sneers and rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling the entire time and lets you continue slowly shifting the vegetables around, watching as the glaze sizzles. “I didn’t know you cared enough about me to visit me at my apartment. We’re both a bit surprised tonight.” This was your worst nightmare.

“I only came here under the impression that you were sick-”

“So you came to my aid?”

“Psh,” You huff, “You wish. But no.” You insist more forcefully, setting the spatula down and turning to face Frankie, who is all too close to you. You lose a lot of your angry traction as his hand finds your hip, feeling his fingers flip to the stovetop’s burner switch to a lower setting.

His hands navigate you away from the oven, your back flushed against his counter now. His eyes trail you, grazing over your body as his hips now plant you in one spot. You swallowed a lump in your throat, your still resisting hands planting against his chest. You can feel his cock twitch against your thigh.

You can’t explain why your fingers twitch and start to clutch his shirt, pulling him a little closer. Stupid Frankie with his goading smirk, bringing his forehead down against yours. It was so hot in his kitchen, in the middle of summer. You feel a bead of sweat sprout behind your ear and lightly glide down your neck as you flutter your eyes closed. It wasn’t often you felt your power to resist him rendered useless, but tonight you felt like he had a quite literal home-field advantage.

“You want me to stop?” He asks, voice low and lust-drenched. His leg parts purposely between yours, jutting them open and spreading what was his.

Your throat is closed off, the lack of air draining from your busy head. “I..” Your words fall off, distracted by something scampering through the living room.

“Do you have a cat?” Your eyes light up as you slink past Frankie. He found your stray of attention a bit adorable, despite being given a slight case of blue balls.

You carefully padded out of the kitchen and into the living room, using the excuse to slip off your sneakers at the entrance. The small orange cat had curled up onto Frankie’s couch by your tossed jacket from earlier, forming a perfect circle amongst all of its tangerine fluff. Its eyes were closed serenely, absent of a new presence. It was fucking adorable, in short.

Frankie was still flummoxed in the kitchen, adding the cooked chicken into the stir fry before turning the burner off and putting his masterpiece aside. “That’s Leo.” He announces, Frankie’s voice carrying annoyance that he lost a sure thing in the kitchen. Now you were cooing over his cat.

He settles two bowls on the counter and adds the stir fry to each, a few splashes of the sauce splattering around the rim of the bowl. With two forks randomly stabbed into the piles of food, he walks one of them out to you. “Could have eaten this whole thing by myself.”

You smile, taking the offering and humming as you flop on the couch, the orange tabby finally peeking its eyes open. “I don’t doubt that, so thanks for sharing.” You recognize how he had eaten the panini and fries, and he was still excited over the stir fry. Poor guy probably had the munchies like crazy.

With the kitty taking up one of Frankie’s couch cushions, he’s forced on the end with you in the middle. He sets his food aside on a spare side table and reaches for a small pipe, your breath pausing at the sight. “You want a hit?” He asks.

His face glows orange as he flicks on the lighter, spreading the flame over the green, now black, substance in the tiny bowl. He inhales, and you watch in mystification as he takes in the smoke filtering through. Your heart thumps harder in your chest, the right side of your mouth twitching up in a sly smirk.

Let’s smoke weed with Frankie Morales tonight.

He lets out a labored breath, the smoke flying loosely in the air and creating hazy grey circles that flood the ceiling before disappearing altogether. The stench fills the small apartment rather quickly.

“I get really weird dreams after I smoke.” You whisper, biting down on your lower lip as you glance down at the pipe he’s holding, a small glow still coming from the weed.

“It’s still lit if you want some.” His voice is low from smoking, and you have to clench your thighs closer together. Damn this stupid uniform, you wished you would have brought a change of clothes so you’d at least be comfy eating stir fry, petting his cat, and getting stoned with him.

He raises the piece in an offering, and you look to him for one last look of reassurance. It’s polite to be offered free weed, especially since he’s the one who paid for it. He gives you a nod and looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. Are you crazy? If you want it, take it.

So you do. And you smoke it. And you pat yourself on the back to do so without coughing. It’s a small hit, but you don’t need much, your brain already feels like it’s as light as a cloud, dancing in slow motion. You giggle by accident.

Frankie lets out a sputter of laughter, watching you get high with him is a bit comical. “Princess knows how to smoke. Kudos.”

You let out a puff of laughter through your nose and grab your warm bowl of stir fry, stabbing into a green pepper. “Shut up, Frankie.”

He ends up putting on a show you both agree on, something comical that makes you both laugh your high asses off. You eat the stir fry and almost forget Frankie is the one who made it. It was delicious, you ate everything down the the finely chopped green onions.

You both shared another hit, and you felt like you were loosening up. Any need to hold onto control slipped through your fingers. Any issues you had been dealing with drifted away. And you realized how stupidly happy you were to be beside Frankie. Trying to do anything of actual initiative went out the window after your second hit. You both found yourselves on the floor of Frankie's room, sat side by side, heads resting on the edge of his bed as you both stared up at the ceiling and spoke gibberish.

“Aliens?” He asks, your thighs brushing.

“Of course.” You hum, slowly blinking in a gentle haze. “Ghosts?”

He sighs and takes a long time to answer, which apparently offends you because you snap your head up and look at him in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious. If you believe in aliens, you have to believe in ghosts.” You argue as you stare at his fan.

He lets out a throaty groan, closes his eyes, and runs his hands down his face. His curls are pretty. They haven’t been run through a million times yet or smothered by a bandana or hat.

“I think… I do believe in ghosts. I just don’t want them to bother me.” He says, a weak smile on his face.

“What? Like you’re afraid to be haunted?” Your head lays back on the bed but rolls over, watching his profile while he continues to look up absentmindedly at the ceiling.

He’s silent for far too long. Finally, he rolls his head over to face you, your noses lightly brushing. He’s so close that looking at him feels a bit cross-eyed.

“Wait- what? Sorry.” He finally says with a broken, short laugh.

“Can you focus?” You ask teasingly, pushing your hand up against his cheek and making him stop staring at you.

You take the soft silence as an opportunity to rest your hand lightly on his thigh. He does the same, except he feels the warmth of your skin and the material of your uniform. Goosebumps form shortly after, and you smile shyly up at the ceiling.

“Have you…” You start to say but trailed off, bashfulness overcoming you.

“Have I what?” He asks. You both blink slowly as a car’s lights flash through his window only for a few seconds, lighting up the dim room before it is filled with darkness again. The moon and an orange lava lamp was the only source of glow.

You distractedly look away from him, admiring a tapestry on his wall and his soft comforter. “Have you had sex with someone high?”

He shrugs and slowly smiles before gently nodding his head against the edge of his bed. “Yeah. Have you?” His head rolls over to look at you again. You feel his warm gaze, but you just keep your eyes locked on his ceiling fan.

Warmth and a subtle shyness flush across your chest, your thighs nearly trembling in excitement. “No.” You whisper.

He doesn’t say anything, but he watches you for a few moments.

“Want to, though.” You finish, feeling a knot slowly grow in your stomach.

Frankie’s eyes flick to your long lashes, then down to warmth creeping up your neck. “Yeah?” He asks.

You gently nod, too, eyes still too shy to meet his own. “Yeah-”

He doesn’t let you get out one more syllable. His large hand comes up and meets your cheek, guiding your head to meet his gaze.

Frankie kisses you deeply but at a slow pace. And you’re feeling a desperate hunger to have him. You eagerly cup his cheeks in return and swing a leg over his lap, intensifying the kiss as your hands glide down the landscape of his clothed chest, bunching up his shirt in the process. You feel like a horny jackrabbit, but it’s really all his fault. You can feel his half-hard cock as you grind the center of your pelvis over his own, whimpering into his mouth desperately.

“Take care of me,” you whisper, and it ends up sounding a little more like a desperate, whiney plea.

Frankie’s lips part against your own, feeling the neediness of your touches. His hazy vision peers open, breaking your kiss for a moment.

“Hold on, baby,” He sits up a little bit against the bed, his eyes scanning yours with a certain deepness.

You pause, your chest heaving lightly as you regain your breath. “Frankie, come on, don’t make me beg.” You say as you lean in once more, but he catches your face and pauses your movements. You feel like a deer in headlights, static tingling in your ears as you feel a sudden rush for embarrassment. Why wasn’t he just as excited? Or eager? Or desperate? Were you the problem?

Suddenly, your eyes were dashing around for an escape. Then he speaks your name. Soft, gentle, careful. Hear him out. You swallow your pride and stay seated over his lap.

You can’t help but let an awkward chuckle escape between you, eyes having a hard time meeting his. You playfully scoff and smack his shoulder lightly to regain a sense of control. “Shut up, Frankie.”

His head cocks, and he looks at you with that stupid fucking smirk. “You don’t know how to take it slow, do you?”

His words antagonize you, and your eyes light with fire. A defensive fire, because he was right.

Slow meant feelings, slow meant experiencing, slow meant bonding. You weren’t slow. Sex was supposed to be fast, hot, desperate, counting down the seconds until a sweet escape, racing to an orgasm, chasing it like a fever dream. You weren’t good at slow.

You hate that Frankie has learned this about you. Giving up the upper hand wasn’t in your caliber. And you find yourself frowning as you look down at him once his smirk washes away. He’s looking at you like he cares. Even with you both stoned, brain’s hazy and light, he sees through all that and looks at you like he gives a damn.

He lightly shrugs his shoulders and softens the hold he has on your face, his thumb gently stroking along your cheekbone. “Can show you.”

Hesitancy screams across your blank face, but he reads you better than anyone else. He speaks your name, more genuinely explaining his offer. “Let me teach you.”

You let out a gentle sigh, slowly giving in to temptation. Because having him at all was better than not. So you take it slow. Frankie teaches you zen. Teaches you how to melt.

One of his hands falls from your cheek and lands on your waist, gently stroking your hip in a soothing slow circle. It feels like heaven.

His brown orbs dip close, and you let him take the lead. He kisses you tenderly, soft. His tongue lines your lower lip once he’s ready to lightly increase the intensity, begging your mouth for permission to part. If it was any other night, your tongue would be down his throat, and you’d be a grinding, sloppy mess in his lap. Let him teach you.

You take a deep breath in as your tongues tangle.

It almost makes you giggle again, because it feels stupid, but you sort of like it.

His stubble brushes your face, and you fight to release a moan. Frankie’s hand on your hip shuffles to your lower back, and you feel him add pressure. Your chest meets his, and you let yourself melt into him. His strong torso easily keeps you both up. Your heavy breaths hit the room, and you force yourself to pull away for air, despite how much you enjoy making out with him. He grins at the sight of satisfying you.

Frankie pushes a stray hair that’s fallen out from your loose ponytail behind your ear, smiling as his hands move to the back of your uniform. This will be the first time he actually undresses you properly, not just shoving the material up past your ass so he has access to your pussy.

“You know how to work the zipper?” You playfully ask as you settle your head on his shoulder, taking the slower moments to breathe and relax.

He stuffs down a chuckle and nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think so. Am I doing it right?” He asks as he guides the zipper down your back, feeling your flesh exposed to the rest of his room.

You purse your lips and slowly sit up in his lap, watching him take in a deep inhale as your centers brush lightly. You hide your coy smile as his eyes light with excitement, but he’s made a point to be slow with you. You guide the sleeves of your uniform down to your hips, exposing your breasts to him. Giggles leave your mouth as you wiggle out the last bit of your dress, Frankie is more than happy to help you.

“I’m feeling a little alone here.” Your voice is soft, tugging at his shirt before you push it up just past his pecs. Your high ass got a little distracted, staring at the hair sprinkled in dark trails across his torso, feeling him struggle in his shirt as he laughed.

“Focus, princess,” his arms tangle with his shirt before he tosses it off, especially since you started slacking. You shyly smile and flutter your eyes down to his warm body as your hands explore the landscape for the first time. You had yet to undress each other like this, you sort of liked it, especially with this whole slow and steady thing going for you both.

Frankie leans back against the bed, admiring the sight before him. You feel a little awkward, goosebumps rushing up your arms as you shyly smile and playfully push his face away. “Stop staring, perv. You’ve never seen a pair of tits before?”

He’s quick. “Not a pair that nice.”

You smile and crack out a laugh, knowing sex has never felt this casual before. No pressure. Good vibes. And it’s not just because of the weed. It’s because it’s Frankie. And he looks at you like you put the sun in the sky and you could do no wrong. But then he starts staring at your tits, and you realize he’s just another guy.

His hands caress your waist, thumbs dipping into the curves and appreciating the way they run up you like beautiful rivers. You decide to do the same. Your hands slip lower, letting his happy trail guide you to his black mesh basketball shorts. His rough and calloused hands cup your tits, taking them in his palms and giving you a tentative squeeze. He’s figuring you out, what you like, what makes you squirm and whine. As soon as he pinches your nipples between his thumbs and pointer fingers, a broken gasp is elicited from your mouth.

“Shit,” you curse breathily. Everything was a bit heightened right now, including your sensitivity. It felt like a million little strums were being played, making your spine shiver and your head grow foggy. And you were determined to make him feel the same way.

You bite down on your lower lip, fishing your hand into his shorts and fisting a hand around his already hardening cock. A smirk tangles on your lips as he lets out an earthy grunt, low to the ground and heaven to your ears.

You start a bit fast, eager to please, wanting to see him tremble for your touch.

His lips meet yours in a distracting manner, rocking your steady pace. “Slow.” He murmurs against your lips, and you gently nod, a shy smile spreading from embarrassment.

“Slow.” You whisper, your lips brushing his. Your ego trips on the power you have over him, fisting him, his heavy length weighing in your hand. You couldn’t even fully wrap your fingers around him, he was all just… girth. Your body ached for him, needy for the feeling only he could satisfy by being inside of you. His tip trickles with precum, and a low moan drips off his tongue like honey. It fuels you.

“Spit on my cock, princess.” He grunts out, his face leaning in to capture one of your nipples in your mouth. You squeak lightly in excitement before doing just as he asks of you.

You angle your head over your centers, letting a long line of saliva puddle down onto him. It meets the strokes of your hand, and Frankie’s jaw twitches as he squeezes your breasts involuntarily harder. You let out a long whine as your nipples form peaks between his fingers, feeling your heart thrum against your chest.

Frankie likes how you look on top. Back arched, chest pushed up, messy hair falling loose, eyes lit with an eagerness and curiosity for him to teach you the method of going slow. Admiration mixed with respect. He feels like he’s dreaming.

All he can imagine is you like this, bodies in sync, riding his cock. Tight walls milking his cock for everything he has. His skin becomes riddled with goosebumps, thinking about your nails digging into his chest, your tits rocking up and down, how he would tumble out moans of your name and squeeze your hips with adoration. Yeah, he’d like to see that one day.

He’s not sure how much longer he can last with merely your hand on him.

“C’mere, baby.”

A gasp of surprise jumps from your throat before you can stop it, Frankie managing to stand up off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist for security. His strength, how easily he lifts you and shuffles you around like a ragdoll spurs white hot heat in your stomach. You were going to fuck him good if you ever got past the going slow part.

His smirky mouth meets yours in a hot kiss, one heavier than before. Like he’s needy for you. Your eyes melt closed as your fingers wind into the pretty curls that were formed at the nape of his neck. Your back meets his mattress and blankets, your fingers dance along the pattern, your high mind hypnotized seeing Frankie on top of you.

His body rests between your parted legs. You whimper into his mouth, feeling his hardened cock resting against your core.

“Take my fucking panties off,” you beg more than you mean to.

Frankie tries not to sneer. His teeth capture your lower lip, and you mewl out a moan before he lets you go.

“To hell with going slow.”

You hastily nod, feeling his fingers grip your panties at either side of your hips before he shuffles them down. You whine with how the sticky center stays latched to your core, he gently peels it loose with a hellish smirk.

Frankie’s heart thrums against his chest and echoes into his ears. Hearing you desperate for his touch was heaven, he felt undeserving to have such an angel vying for his attention. “So wet f’me, barely touched you, princess.”

He discards your panties to the side, off on the floor with the rest of the clothing you both have shed. You’re completely naked together, makes you a little nervous.

Frankie promised to speed up, but you’re finding harmony in the way his soft lips trail down your body, leaving wet prints between the valley of your breasts to the soft skin of your stomach. Your breaths come out heavier, thighs shaking as he drops back down to kneel at the edge of the bed. His hands grip your thighs and yank you impatiently closer to his eager mouth. You whimper as your body is shuffled closer, your fists that were clutching the sheets being torn away.

You giggle as your thighs shake around his head, feeling those perfect kisses move between the warmth of your legs.

“Fuck,” you finally let out, excitement seeping through your bones. Frankie’s stubble drags across the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, and again, you feel that heightened sensitivity that makes your stomach roll.

Frankie decides that dragging out the teasing is enough. He wanted to taste you, every mile, every inch, every centimeter.

Your core glistens in his eyeline, begging to be touched, kissed, fucked. He can’t help but dive in. His dopey brown eyes meet yours as his face disappears lower and lower before he’s past the valley of your tits, and all you can see when you crane your neck are those mocha brown eyes.

His tongue tastes you, and divides your folds, as he laps up your juices.

The feeling is exhilarating, like the rise and fall of a roller coaster.

A gasp riddles its way up through your throat, concaves your chest, and your pupils blow wide in excitement. Frankie enjoys your taste but aims to pleasure. His mouth latches onto your sensitive clit and suckles, his tongue intervening every few swipes to flick across your clit. Rise.

His large hands grip the outside of your thighs, pinning your lower half to his mattress, and lapping over you in a heated race to the finish line. Your face contorts in pleasure, fingers drifting down your stomach before you wind them in Frankie’s hair. He growls against your pussy, you’ve never felt your blood pump faster. Fall.

“Fucking- Christ,” you push out, gripping his hair strands tighter and making him grunt hot heat against your core. “Feels so fucking good- oh my god,”

He pulls away for a breath and sucks a love bite into the sensitive flesh of your thigh until it swells pink and purple. One of his hands on your outer thighs wraps around the shell of your body, playing with your clit. He slowly shakes his head as he looks at you. You wonder if he shares your hazy vision. The pleasure makes you feel like you’re seeing double.

“Christ isn’t making you feel good,” his words make you whimper, “I am.”

You quickly nod, but you realize your body can’t move quickly under the influence. You’re just hazily bobbing your head, your hand in his hair dropping to his strong bicep.

“Frankie, I need you,” you plead as you gently sit up on your elbows and cup his cheek, wiping your glistening slick off his pretty bottom lip. “Need you inside of me.” You whisper, a desperate look splashed across your face.

You hated how much power he had over you. He almost just made you cum from playing with your clit. You need him biblically, fully, flesh and blood, blood to bone. It was carnal, primal.

He doesn’t need much further convincing. Frankie preferred to pull an orgasm from going down on you, but he listened to your needs and what you wanted.

His lips meet yours in a hungry kiss, working you further up the bed and letting you collapse into his pillows. Your eyes catch the sight of a dream catcher while his tongue tangles with yours. You flush at the taste of your own arousal. That’s when you realize his hand is still between your thighs and working soothing circles into your clit.

You whimper as he adds a tad bit more pressure, and you feel the white-hot heat of adrenaline making your stomach pool even more excitement into your tummy.

“Frankie,” you whisper softly, and his forehead rests over yours while he guides his shaft to your center.

He lines his tip up and down between your folds, your jaw dropping as he sickeningly uses your slick to lube himself. He lets his entire shaft rest against your sex, and he does slow thrusts back and forth, lining his entire cock with you. Holy fuck. A shiver was sent up your spine, goosebumps parading across your body.

Your chest swelled for him.

“What do you say?” He asks in a taunt, knowing how weak you are.

You huff and move your hands up his arms and hang them loosely around his shoulders. He complies in moving in closer.

“Please.” You finally admit between gritted teeth, which makes him grin.

“Alright, princess,” his forehead now rests against your temple, cocking his chin down to get a better angle of your centers. He guides his tip to your entrance, slow and patient, before he notches himself inside of you.

Your eyelashes flutter, and you watch as his eyes clench closed. He likes to act all tough like he wouldn’t fold for you, but you know he would time and time again without having to say more than a simple please.

Both of you share unsteady breaths. It feels like a dam is giving way inside your chest.

Frankie thinks how he has never been inside a tighter pussy, squeezing the last bits of air from his lungs.

Your walls pulsate around the intrusion, but your dripping core and his wet tongue from earlier allowed him to slowly push in, inch by inch.

You swallow a lump in your throat. You don’t realize your eyes are closed, and you're gripping him around the neck to keep him close until he sponges a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Alright?” He forces out. It’s like you’re choking him, and it makes you twitch up a smile.

“Mhm,” you muster up, feeling his chest rumble lightly with laughter.

“Baby,” he whispers, and your chest surges at the pet name. “Can’t breathe.” Oh, shit. You damn near had him in a headlock.

You loosen your grip around his neck, shyly smiling as your desperate hands look for something to ground you.

Frankie stays flushed inside you but shifts to be more centered over your body, gently resting his forehead just above yours.

“C’mere,” he whispers before he takes your hands. You decide not to question why he interlocks your fingers. But it feels safe, and you’re still high, so you’ll blame any poor decision-making on that.

“Fuck me,” you finally grit out, desperate for him to just fucking, “Move.”

Your whine is met by him reeling back his hips, only for him to plow right back into you at an unforgiving rate. A gasp ripples through your throat, and you feel like screaming. Your entire goddamn body was on fire with the way his girth parted your walls, splitting you open. You let out a string of whimpery moans, and your eyes glared desperate daggers into him.

“S’what you wanted, right?” He grunts out, jaw tight, pretty curls falling limply in front of his eyes and crowding his forehead. “You wanna be fucked hard, is that it?” He can barely speak authoritatively, you’re squeezing him like your last lifeline.

But he’s right. Tears cloud your vision, and you weakly nod as desperate puffs of air leave your pretty parted lips. “Yes,” you squeak out, relaxing your hips so Frankie falls into you more.

“Feels so fucking good, can’t-” An eager cry leaves your lips as he pulls himself out, just to thrust right back in and rocking you further up his bed. Your chin tips to the ceiling as you curse every god, man, woman, whoever the hell created Frankie Morales.

“Can’t what, princess?” His tone is lower, sinister even as your walls twitch around him but only gush out more arousal for his cock to slide in and out of you.

You find it hard to string together syllables. So he squeezes your hands that you’re holding for dear life. He stills inside of you until you answer.

“Shit,” you whimper.

“Can’t what, angel?” He probes again, cocky asshole waiting for his answer.

You whimper and peek open your eyes. The right side of his face is highlighted silver from the moon, your hazy vision thinks he looks like an angel. His hand wanders between your centers and finds your throbbing clit, making you cry out the answer. Your face crumbles as you own up to what you need to say.

“Fuck! Fuck, Frankie! Can’t go without your dick,” you pant out as he subtly rocks into you at a good pace upon your confession. “Can’t even go- can’t even go a week without it,” you admit in defeat.

That stupid, cocky smirk of his graces his parted lips. It’s crooked and perfect, and he’s fucking you like your life depends on it. Because it does, you think.

His thighs clap against your ass, pounding you into the bed, drilling you into place, suffocating the air from your lungs.

Your vision goes hazy, seeing white, then rainbow, then stars. They cloud your vision, and you’re not sure if you’re still high off the weed anymore. Or just high off Frankie.

You whimper strings of his name tangled with profanity, he’s still filling you to the brim. It once seethed hot with pain, but now your stomach is contorting in pleasure. It’s like he knows exactly how to crack your vault, penetrating your walls, unlocking something deep inside of you that no one else manages to know the code.

His messy fingers continue to circle your clit, and you know your end is coming.

Frankie’s grunting with every thrust, moaning a symphony of your name every chance he gets. He likes holding your hand, resting his sweaty forehead against your own, listening to you beg for his cock, for your finish. It’s the only thing he wants to give you. He’d be at your every beck and call if you let him. He wouldn’t mind if the only thing he ever got was a fraction of your praise.

Frankie’s thighs clap against your ass, the sound echoes around his bedroom. If his neighbors didn’t know his name, they did now.

“Fuck! Frankie!” You cry out, feeling every inch of his cock massage your insides. His tip kisses your cervix, and your jaw drops. Nothing more comes out of your mouth, so your blown-out eyes do all the talking.

I’m so fucking close.

“I know, baby, feels good, doesn’t it?” He grunts as his balls slap against you. “Feels good having my fat fucking cock inside you, huh?”

You shake under him, your thighs clench around his hips, and you pray to the gods for making Frankie. You take back what you thought before, you need him.

You don’t care that he’s a little older, that he’s an asshole, that he eggs you on.

Because in the shelter of his bedroom, locked in your embrace, he swallows your name and persuades you into pleasure, time and time again.

Your clit tingles, and your walls furiously clench around him. Finally, your mouth finds words to try and elaborate on what you’ve been holding inside.

“Fucking- shit! Fuck me harder, right there- fuck me, Frankie! God- I’m coming!” You cry out as his pants fill your space, fanning across your face. He fucks you harder and faster as you near your orgasm, wanting to help you reach it. And he gets you there.

Your back arches, and he groans lowly as he stills inside of you. It’s almost beautiful the way you cum in unison.

Your hands hold his tighter, and he reciprocates by squeezing gently. I’m right here, I’m here, baby.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, still. Your hips get a little achy. He feels you twitch and knows it's time to let you go.

A gentle whimper leaves you as he pulls out. You feel a bit empty, a little cold.

His sweet laughter makes you peek open your eyes. He’s trying to move out from around you, but you haven’t let go of his hands.

You shyly let go, and both of you squeeze your hands to flex the knotted muscles and stiff knuckles. You close your legs and lightly curl up. He doesn’t come to rest, he gently pats your outer thigh once or twice before he disappears to his bathroom.

You think he couldn’t have been gone for more than thirty seconds, but he comes back in a fresh pair of boxers and his basketball shorts, his tanned torso still exposed for your viewing.

“Frankie,” he pauses like a deer in headlights as he stands up from grabbing your panties. “I’m gonna… spill.” You finally pitch out, a bit embarrassed.

“Oh,” he says, feeling like an idiot. He circles back to the bathroom and grabs a towel and a wet washcloth.

“Sorry, my brain is all-” he starts to say, but you quickly shake your head.

“I know me too. S’okay.” You whisper with a smile as you weakly sit up on your elbows. The record playing in the living room had stopped. He shimmies the towel under your hips before he aids you with a clean washcloth.

Feels too domestic, so you take over, much to his annoyance. You wrap yourself in the towel once you’re done, and sit up to retrieve your uniform. You dread putting it on.

“Can I take the towel for the way home? My underwear is still too..” you trail off. Soaking wet was the words you would have used.

Frankie’s face screws up in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together.

“You’re going home?”

Now your expressions match. “Yeah?” It sounds more like a guess than a statement. “What else would I do?”

Frankie shifts back and forth on his feet before he sits down beside you on the bed. “Dunno. Stay here.”

You take in a hesitant breath, and he feels it. “You shouldn’t drive home, you know. You’re stoned. And tired. Don’t need you falling asleep at the wheel or some shit.”

You frown. Staying here does sound nice. Thinking about going down those five flights of stairs with your jelly legs sounds like a walk to hell.

But there’s a certain rule about sleeping over. One you don’t want to cross. You and Frankie are just fooling around. Nothing more.

“I don’t know, Frankie.” You say with a small frown, tightening the towel around you even more. His sullen look deepens at your words. He doesn’t want to overly convince you. If you want to go, he doesn’t want to stand in your way.

You chew on your bottom lip and weigh your options. You don’t want to go down the stairs. You’re tired as fuck, and you don’t want to get pulled over or something else. And you really don’t want to put your uniform back on. And you want to stop trying to put issues in your own way when you really just want to stick around. But the decision is made for you.

“Stay.”

Your eyes meet his. He’s more certain now, going after what he wants.

“Stay the night, it won’t kill you. I’ll get you something more comfortable to wear, and you can just…” he trails off and shrugs.

“Stay?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. He nods.

You sigh loudly but inevitably smile as you point to his closet. “I need a shirt. Please.”

A big smile glides across his face, and you can’t believe you’re the one who put it there.

“Alright, princess, whatever you say.” He squeezes your thigh and stands up, his back to you as he fishes through his closet and smells a few shirts to see how clean they are.

You roll your eyes and sigh as you fall back into his pillows.

You change into something clean, you hope it’s clean, and end up curling into a protective ball under his covers.

His cat, Leo, circles up by your feet, and you coo, gently stroking the pretty fur along his back. Frankie retrieves two glasses filled with water and hands you one. You instantly take a few gulps before your hand gently strokes down the shirt he’s put you in. It swims a bit on you, but you like it. The hem hangs at your thighs.

“Can you get in here?” You ask impatiently. “M’getting chilly.” You whisper with a coy smile.

Frankie blows out a few candles in his living room and finishes putting away any leftover stir fry.

Your high has worn off, and now you’re just a sleepy little thing. A long shift plus getting railed would be your new nighttime sleep aid.

Now that the apartment is drenched in darkness, he pulls back the covers and moves in beside you. Cuddling was not an option. He spoons you, yanking you halfway across the bed and out of your little ball. His warm flesh meets your back, and you hum at the feeling. He was a furnace. His head settles above yours, you feel the stubble gently poke at your hair. Your eyes are already closed as his arm wraps around your waist, an affirming hand settling on your tummy. He must need skin-to-skin contact because his hand slips under the shirt he’s put on you and settles on the warm skin by your belly button.

You let out a short little laugh. “You do this with all the girls you sleep with?”

“No.” He quickly says, and your eyes peek open.

“No?” You ask curiously.

“No. Just all my coworkers I sleep with.” You roll your eyes and reach around to slap the back of your hand against his hip, forcing out a chuckle from him.

“M’kidding.” He somehow pulls you closer. Your head rests comfortably on his bicep, the cold tip of your nose warmed by his flesh.

Questions pour out of your stupid brain. Were you the only one he was sleeping with? If you weren’t, who else was there? Was this normal to him, cuddling after a friends-with-benefits situation? Did Frankie want something more?

You sigh and close your eyes, attempting to shut off your brain as your finger lazily draws shape on his forearm.

He murmurs a goodnight against the shell of your ear. You blame how happy and comfortable you are right now on his cat. And it somewhat makes you feel better. You never pictured falling asleep beside your coworker, let alone Frankie Morales.

Sleep eventually overcomes you. You dream of Frankie sitting in a bowl of stir fry like a hot tub.

---

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follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #fuck yeah frankie #francisco morales #catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales

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slxtmeri · 10 months

Note

imagine going to a bar with schlatt, purposely flirting with other people in an attempt to make him jealous which results in him teaching you a lesson when you get home. or in the toilets.

THANK YOU FOR THIS CHARLIE I LOVE YOU.

a/n: meri wrote a fic? wtf wtf wtf wtf

thank you for 200 followers!!

cw: smut, choking, pet names, oral + fingering (fem receiving), afab!reader, unprotected sex, creampie, etc.

jealous? ~ schlatt

it had taken you a while to finally convince your boyfriend, but the two of you were finally on your way. sitting in the backseat of the uber you had ordered for the two of you, schlatt was finally starting to warm up to the idea.

in your words, you and schlatt didn't "let loose" enough. so now, here you are, on your way to the new, invite-only bar that had recently opened in the town the two of you lived in.

"c'mon, jay, it'll be fun!" you say, leaning on his shoulder.

"yeah, maybe. as long as the booze is good." he says reluctantly. you smile up at him, used to his antics.

"ted didn't get us invites just for you to be ungrateful! just try to enjoy yourself." you plant a kiss on his cheek and a small smile adorns his face.

"of course, doll."

the uber arrives at your location and you go through security fairly easily. you both walk in and greet your friends charlie and ted, then head off to explore the rest of the bar.

it was crowded, with people dancing and swaying along to the beat of the music. you and schlatt make yourselves comfortable in one of the secluded corners of the bar.

"i'm gonna go and grab us some drinks, okay?" he says, turning towards you and pointing towards the bar.

you hum, acknowledging his words and he walks away in the direction of the bar. suddenly, you see a man who looked to be in his early twenties walking up to you.

"hey, gorgeous, you alone tonight?" he says with a wink, not waiting for your answer as he slides into the spot that schlatt was previously standing in. you were ready to get up and walk away, but you see schlatt at the bar, watching the two of you as he waits for your drinks.

this could be a lot of fun, you think, turning towards the man.

"what's your name, sweet cheeks?" he says, facing you.

you inwardly cringe at the man's choice of words as you study his features. he seemed to be much shorter than jonathan, with blond hair that swept down over his eyes.

"what's yours?" you ask, tilting your head and batting your eyelashes purposefully so that schlatt would see your mock attempts at flirting.

"jake, now it's your turn to tell me yours, little miss." he states, reaching over and playing with a loose strand of your hair. you step back, away from him and turn your attention to your boyfriend. at this point, you see schlatt in your peripheral vision, visibly fuming. he walks away from the bar, your drinks forgotten.

"uh, well you see-" you begin, but were cut off as schlatt reaches the area and begins to talk.

"who is this guy, babe? some college dropout trying to catch your attention?" he says with a scowl, displeasure evident on his face.

oh shit, you thought, maybe this wasn't such a great idea.

you plaster a nervous smile onto your face and begin to speak, but once again you were cut off.

"i'm jake. who are you? i thought this pretty lady was alone tonight." he says with a cocky smirk.

schlatt steps towards you and slides an arm around your waist. your heart is beating fast, knowing that he's upset.

"listen here, punk. this girl is mine, and she's not interested in puny guys like you." he seethes as he towers over the smaller man.

"w-well, she doesn't seem to mind my company. we were just talking is all, man. can't blame a guy for talking to a pretty girl." he stammers, putting his hands up and backing away.

"yeah, well she's even prettier with her legs open and eyes rolled back, but i guess you'll never get to see that, huh?" schlatt scowls and drags you towards the opposite end of the bar.

"jay, i didn't mean to-" you begin, shocked at the exchange of words between the two men.

"shut up, dollface. let's teach you a lesson, hmm?" he says, finally finding the bathroom and pulling you inside.

he locks the door and walks towards you until your back is hitting the wall, with nowhere else to walk.

"what were you trying to do out there? flirting with another guy so i'll get jealous? guess what, sweetheart. it worked." he seethes, wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing, eliciting a strangled moan from you.

"pl-please, jay. was only playing." you stutter out, jolts of pleasure running through your core.

he only laughs and leans down to kiss you on the lips. the kiss is full of passion and lust, and his tongue explores your mouth with heat.

his free hand travels to the straps of your mini dress, easily pulling it down, leaving you in your underwear.

he breaks the kiss to lift you up by your thighs and push you against the wall, dropping to his knees.

"be a good girl and stay quiet, ok? don't want the fancy members of this bar hearing your slutty noises." he hums, pulling your panties down and settling your legs over his shoulders.

you stifle a moan that threatens to spill from your lips as he slips in two digits, pumping them into your tight cunt with no prep.

"fuck, jay. s-slow down." your back arches as he stretches you out on his thick fingers, your eyes shutting out of instinct.

"look at me, slut." he harshly squeezes your thigh with his free hand and your eyes snap back open, eyes on his face.

"you're so fucking wet, baby. you getting off of the idea of me getting jealous, huh?"

he lowers his head and flicks his tongue around your swollen clit, drawing out an almost pornagraphic moan from you.

he continues to finger you and suck on your bundle of nerves until you slowly begin feel that ball of pleasure in your core tighten.

you try to buck your hips but he stops you, holding you down.

"please! p-please, m'gonna come, jay." you cry, throwing your head back onto the wall.

as soon as you tell him this, though, he stops. he pulls out his fingers and stands up, lifting you up with him.

you immediately whine at him, but he just wraps his hand around your throat again, shutting you up.

"this is a punishment, not a reward. be a good girl and maybe i'll let you come, yeah?" he says, placing you on the bathroom sink and kissing you once more.

you moan into the kiss and reach up to grab a fistful of his hair, making him groan and pull away, quickly unbuckling his belt and pulling out his cock.

you turn around and face the mirror, ass on display for him.

he strokes himself before lining himself up and pushing into you, making you both moan out.

soon enough, you've both forgotten about staying quiet, and he's pounding into you while you're moaning and squealing out his name.

"th-that asshole could never fuck you like this, baby. only me." he groans into your ear as he pistons into you at a brutal pace.

"m'only yours daddy. fuck, only yours." you're moaning out, back arching as one of his hands toys with your nipple.

once again, you feel yourself teetering at the edge, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut out of pleasure.

"jay, please. please, need to come. only for you daddy, please." you sob out, your eyes filling with tears.

"go ahead and come, doll. such a good girl." his hips continue their brutal pace as pleasure overtakes your senses.

you're moaning out his name as you clench around him, and his hips stutter moments after. he fills you with his come and slowly pulls out, breathing heavily.

after you both recover, he's turning you around to face him.

you look up at him with fucked out eyes and he caves, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

"what was that guy's name again?" he asks you with a smirk on his face.

"uhm, i don't remember... blake, maybe?" you say sheepishly, looking up at the love of your life with a smile.

#meris moots #200 followers #mcyt smut #mcyt x reader #dsmp smut #smut #mcyt #dsmp #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader smut #jschlatt smut #jschlatt imagine #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x reader #schlatt #schlatt smut #schlatt x reader smut #schlatt x you

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yjhariani · 1 year

Text

[At some point in their campaign]

Price, the DM: You see there is one entrance into the tower. It looks to be a metal door.

Gaz: I push the door open.

Price: It doesn’t budge.

Soap: I pull it open.

Price: Doesn’t budge as well.

Ghost: I’m kicking the fucking door down.

Price: Roll strength check.

Ghost, rolling a strength check: Fourteen.

Price: Doesn’t budge.

Y/N, flabbergasted: Excuse me?! It’s a fucking door!

Price, calmly: It’s a metal door.

Soap, seriously: I will slowly take out my warhammer.

Gaz: No. Let me try this. Then, I take out my lockpick and try to pick the lock.

Price: Roll sleight of hands.

Gaz, rolling sleight of hands check: Fuck… thirteen.

Price: You try picking the lock. You heard it ticking a couple of times, but then out of a sudden you felt your lockpick get stuck in the keyhole.

Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Y/N—layering on top of one another: Oh, fuckin’ he—steamin’ Jesu—you got to be shitti—fuck you, DM.

Price, with a mischievous smile, still calmly: What do you do?

Y/N, after taking a deep breath: Alright. I’ll look for a window.

Price: Roll perception check.

Y/N, talking to a die: You better be useful or I will throw you down Soap’s toilet.

Y/N, rolling perception check: Natural twenty!

Soap: Oh, thank goodness.

Gaz: Finally something good.

Ghost: I still don’t feel good about this.

Price, after waiting for the table to calm down: You do find a window.

Y/N: Yeah! Where is it?

Price: It’s twenty five feet above you, at the top of the tower.

Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Y/N—again, layering on top of one another: Fuck—Balls! Tits!—you can’t be ser—AAAA!

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader

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badingsm · 8 months

Text

Warnings: Too much fluff, suggestive contents, cursing, and Aunt Yelena!

To those who requested, here you go! 😗

Note: I needed some help from AI for the description of the house because I suck with describing things, otherwise, the rest is all mine.

"Baby, I'm home!"

"In the kitchen!" You informed Natasha, your wife, who had just gotten home from the tower after she submitted her post-mission reports.

Currently, you're tending to your hunger in the kitchen, munching on the delivered chicken wings, lasagna, donuts, and ice cream that you've bought online.

"Hi," Natasha's head poked from the doorway, looking through the variety of foods that you've got all to yourself, smiling amusingly at you, "You hungry, moya lyubov?"

"Don't be homophobic, I'm starving." You frowned, hating the interruption but loving the way her lips had collided into your skin, missing her already even though she had just left a couple of hours ago. "Is Willow still sleeping?"

"Mhm," She smirked while wiggling her brows suggestively as she traced her heated palms around your shoulder, "You know, I've been missing you a lot lately because you always have to tend our Willow."

You raised your brow at her, rolling your eyes. "She's eight months old and in need of some caring hands to guide her."

"Oh, baby," Natasha tutted, "I need some caring hands too, you know...while our daughter is still not in need of yours."

You pursed your lips at that, silently looking back and forth between your wife, who's made you feel really hot, and your food, the one that you can't stop thinking about since last night. Seriously torn between the two.

"Would you let me eat my ice cream on your abs?" You looked up at her with doe eyes, defeatedly sighing, making her chuckle lowly as she looked at you with lustful ones.

"Deal."

There was a quick exchange of sloppy kisses, and the next thing you knew, you were both locked up in your shared room with soundproofed walls, seeing white.

Two months later..

"Love, wakey wakey," Natasha mumbled in your ear, shaking your sleeping form gently.

"Piss off!" You groaned, turning away from her, which made her chuckle, kissing the exposed skin on your neck. "Natalia, I'm telling you, if I don't get my sleep, I will make sure that you don't get to see your daughter ever and-"

You didn't get to finish your sentence because soon, your body voluntarily stood up on its own, making your way quickly into the bathroom when something went up into your throat.

Natasha was quick enough to rush to your side, helping you while she rubbed your back comfortingly. "You okay?"

"I'm puking my guts out, and you're still asking me that?" You scoffed at her sarcastically in mid-session.

"Okay, sorry, I was just asking." Natasha frowned at the attitude but decided to ignore it instead. "Why are you throwing up anyway? Did you eat all the cookies again?"

"Hey, it's Wanda's cookies!" You protested, cleaning yourself because you felt icky after flushing the toilet bowl. "Her cookies are special. I don't know why; maybe she's putting her magic on them, but they're really yummy, so don't blame it on me. Blame Wanda."

"Mhm, whatever you say," Natasha uttered unconvincingly, causing you to pout at her through the mirror as you brushed your teeth. "I'm thinking about visiting the compound with Willow later; would you like to come?"

"Why?"

"Her aunts and uncles are bugging me." She pursed her lips while brushing her teeth beside you also. "They said that I've kept her all to myself, and they want to see her."

It's true, though.

You were staying in some hidden land in Ohio, where only Natasha and you had access. You both have asked Wanda to make your house invisible in the eyes of the others in order for you to be safe, which she easily agreed to.

Your home is the perfect combination of aesthetics, simplicity, and elegance, making it the ideal paradise for a family. Its façade exudes timeless charm with its deep color palette and graceful architectural lines. As you enter, an open-plan living space greets you, characterized by a clean, streamlined design and plenty of natural light streaming in through the large windows. The fully equipped kitchen, decorated with sleek cabinets and modern appliances, seamlessly connects to the cozy dining area, making it the center of family gatherings. Upstairs, you'll discover quiet and spacious bedrooms, including the master suite, a peaceful hideaway with an en-suite bathroom and dressing room. The meticulously landscaped backyard provides a peaceful outdoor oasis for relaxation and play, completing this elegant yet unpretentious family residence.

In addition to that, you've stopped taking missions, wanting to focus solely on your daughter and family. For now, at least.

So..

You smiled, longing for your friends while being a mother. Wanting to talk about your journey of motherhood with Natasha and Willow with your friends would surely make your day.

"Sure, let's go and make some trouble on Tony's property!"

"She's grown so much!" Kate gushed while Yelena held your guys' daughter tightly in her chest. The blonde melted at the sight of her niece clinging onto her (not that she'll ever admit that), like they had already made some connection after seeing and clinging to each other for ten minutes. "She's so cute. I want to have one-"

"What?!" Yelena widened her eyes, slightly raising her voice in shock, causing Willow to pout at her with wide orbs, thinking that her aunt was yelling at her. She saw the tears gathering in the corner of your daughter's eyes, causing her to panic and feel guilty at the same time she comforted her, "Oh, no, no, no, no—I'm sorry, it's not you. It's Kate Bishop, I promise!"

"Do you keep saying my full name just to point out that you know it?"™ Kate sighed, making faces at Willow to make her laugh.

"Yes," Yelena proudly stated, "I know a lot about you. Mother, Eleanor. Arrested for-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Kate quickly mumbled, stopping Yelena from discussing her family history in front of you. "Can I hold her now? You've been holding her for so long already."

Yelena glared at her, "No."

"Come on! Let's take turns."

"Um, excuse me," You interrupted them both. "My daughter's not a toy; I just want to remind you guys, you know, in case you forgot, that's all."

"I'm still mad at you," The blonde told you pointedly, her attention shifting into you. "You should've told me, so I gave my sestra some shovel talk."

"Yeah," You cringed, looking at Natasha, who was laughing quietly at your side, "Let's not do that. Not really cool, dude."

You bid your goodbyes after that, leaving Natasha with Yelena, Kate, and the others, letting them meet and bond with your daughter, chuckling lowly as you heard Natasha in your earshot while you find your way to the medbay, where you're sure Bruce and Tony were.

"Shovel talk? Really?"

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!" You greeted loudly, not bothering to knock as you entered the lab. Bruce jumped slightly from his seat while Tony had just looked up from his sciencey tech to blink at you before turning his attention back to the equipment, causing you to frown and say, "Hey, didn't you miss me?"

"No." Tony stuck his tongue out at you childishly, making you gasp in offense. "See? We bond over our ego and pride. I told you before, you should've just married me instead of Red."

"Okay, first of all, I'll tell Pepper that you said that." You smirked teasingly when he widened his eyes in panic. "And secondly, dude, that's fucking disgusting, so fuck you. Lastly, fuck you very much because I feel disgusting now."

"Hey, Y/n," Bruce gently cut in his greeting, "How are you?"

"I'm fine." You shrugged. "We've brought Willow along, though."

"Really?" Tony looked up at you with interest. You nodded as an answer, causing him to sprint off the room, shouting, "You should've started with that!"

Now that you're finally alone, you've turned to Bruce.

"Thank god the nosy is finally gone!" You breathed out lowly, resulting in some manly chuckles from him. You laughed with him for quite a while before turning serious and mumbling.

"Bruce, we have a mission."

"Hey, baby," Natasha mumbled from your side. You're all gathered in the dining area in the compound, having some dinner together, courtesy of Tony's credit card. "Where have you been a while ago?"

"Bruce," You replied shortly with a shrug, munching onto your fries and dipping them in the ice cream that you'd specifically asked for yourself.

"Why?"

"Too many questions, Natalia." You pursed your lips, looking over Thor, who's playing with Willow to keep her attention away from you. "Hey, Thunder, show her some tricks!"

"Absolutely not!" Natasha reprimanded quickly, turning her attention to the team with full authority. "No tricks, no weapons, no fighting, or anything around my daughter, understood?"

"Copy." All of them replied with an eye roll, causing the former assassin to glare at them in warning.

"Hey, Romanoff, you've got a cake here!" Sam called Natasha from the doorway, having just gotten home from his mission in Nebraska. He dropped the sealed cake in front of your wife, making the redhead frown.

"I didn't order anything," Natasha mumbled cautiously. She was being extremely careful when she opened it; her trained senses and alert mode were all turned on, not wanting to put anyone in harm's way just in case there was a bomb inside the box.

"Couldn't you be any slower?" Yelena groaned impatiently from her chair.

Natasha gazed at her with furrowed brows and scolded, "Shut up!"

"You're such a mom!"™

"It's because I... am..." Natasha's sentence had died down in her tongue when she finally opened the box. It was your guys' favorite cake from the store down the block. She blinked owlishly at the dedication written on the cake, trying to make sure that she wasn't hallucinating in any way. The redhead read it out loud again, still not wanting to believe it.

Hi, Mama! We'll see you in March!

"What does this mean?" Natasha gazed at you, already tearing up. "We'll? Meaning.."

You nodded eagerly, sobbing uncontrollably, "We're having twins, you sharpshooter!"

"Oh, my god! This is amazing, baby!" Natasha lunged at you with kisses, not caring about the teasing whistles that she got from the team. "Thank you! I'm so happy, moya lyubov!"

You chuckled at her, kissing her passionately while she returned the sentiment with the same intensity, only breaking apart when you heard Yelena shouting about something that had you gasping with a horrified look when she began running away with your daughter.

"Fuck yes! Willow's mine now!"

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #soft natasha romanoff #marvel

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tvgals · 10 months

Text

‘ PRETTY IN PINK ‘

harvard professor! toji x black! elle woods! reader

getting into harvard law was a piece of cake, but somehow getting into your professors pants was harder!

cw: black! reader, age gap by like 15 years, set in 2001

ENJOY !

you pull your pink satin eye mask over your bonnet and stretch. today was the day, the day you’d finally get professor fushiguro to give in. you’ve had your eye on him since you were a freshman, his brood and sarcastic demeanor making him even more attractive. you hop out of your bed and start to get ready. after half an hour of doing what you need to do, you grab your bella louis vuitton tote and slide into your heels, walking out the door. arriving to your first class you’re already out of breath, not from the route there, of course not, but the fact your english teacher, is sitting on toji’s desk. laughing. you purse your lips together and stare, holding your designer purse in front of you. it didn’t take long for toji to notice the girl wearing all pink in his doorway.

“need something?” toji said in his oh so deep and gravely voice. “oh no! i was just about to ask a question but i see you’re already talking to someone. i’ll be on my way.” and with that you speed walk down the hall, the familiar clacking of your heels against the schools polished marble floor getting further and further. tears well in your eyes, but why? it’s not like you and toji are dating, and if you two were, you’d be sure you still wouldn’t let these fat tears roll down your face. you race to the bathroom and push your bottom eyelids up on the way, forcing them to close. once you arrive you take the biggest stall there is and sit on the toilet, hiding your face in your hands. after about six minutes of sulking by yourself, you hear another pair of heels clacking against the floor.

“y/n?” spoke your english teacher. “yes?” you respond, trying to make it seem as if you weren’t just crying. “toji doesn’t like crybabies. i know you’ve been trying to get in his pants and all, but don’t bring the whole class down because you can’t handle your urges.” and with that, she leaves, leaving you a dumbstruck mess. the day just started. it’s only 7:30 in the morning. you take a moment to regather yourself, and walk out. this has been terrible already. you walk into your first class and sigh, ten minutes late. you’ve never been late a day in your life! you plop down in an open seat and grab your notebook, jotting down notes when it’s needed. everyone has had their eyes on you since you’d came here, your bold style and personality attracting attention wherever you went. now was not a good day to have eyes all on you. your usual behavior being a stark contrast to your now sad and mopey one.

“y/n stay after class please.” you teacher slips in during a lecture, you were lucky you caught it unless you’d be in for a treat. class was over and you stood by your teachers desk. “yes?” you ask, fiddling with the straps of your purse. “you’re never late. is something wrong?” she asks. your calculus teacher was a nice old white lady who wore a huge pair of wired glasses. “nope. just tired from exams and stuff.” you chuckle, fidgeting with your hair. “okay okay. well, make sure you get your eight hours to stay beautiful.” she grins. you leave with a “thank you.” and go to your next class.

lunch rolled around and you decided to make your way into toji’s classroom, standing in the doorway as seductively as you could. “hey, toji.” you say, rocking back and forth on your heel. “y/n.” toji says without even looking up from the paper he was grading. “could i speak to you?” you ask, walking towards toji and stopping in front of his desk. toji looks up at you through his glasses a smirk adorning his face. “speak.” toji tells you, looking up at you fully. “is there anyway i could get extra credit?” you ask, putting your louis vuitton bag on his desk, starting to unbutton the top of your blazer. toji starts laughing, standing up and towering over you. you look up at him, swallowing hard.

“you think seducing me will get me to want you more?” he asks, pulling you into his body into the small of your back. he leans down into your ear, his breath hitting the shell of your ear. “because it’s working…” he says, trailing his hand down your skirt. you let out a sigh, bringing your arms around his neck. “lunch ends in 10 minutes…” you whine out, propping yourself against toji’s desk. toji looks up at you with a hungry stare. “better cum in 10 minutes then…” toji chuckled, pulling your panties to the side and slipping two fingers into your cunt with a groan. “look at you.” he grins. “what’s your grade?” toji asks, making casual conversation.

“a…b minus..” you whine, arching your back. “mmm…you’re a smart girl. i don’t have any idea how you have a b minus in my class. it’s as if you’ve been planning this for a while.” toji smiles, pumping his fingers faster. he was catching onto you. it was as if he knew your every move. when you only responded with breathy moans and a whine of “five minutes left…” toji grinned at you, curving his fingers — hitting that spongey spot in you. you arch your back and cum on toji’s finger with a high pitched moan. toji slaps his hand over your mouth and takes his fingers out of you, sucking on his fingers.

“go to class.” he says, popping his fingers from his plush lips.

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cupid-styles · 8 months

Text

the punishment

an extra for this one-shot about sugar daddy harry

in which mia is craving attention from her boyfriend, but she goes about it the wrong way.

content warnings: smut ! (spanking, dirty talk, harry being a mean dom, ruined orgasm, breeding kink, light bondage, spitting)

word count: 2.2k

main masterlist | sugar daddy h masterlist

talk to me

Mia can be a brat.

Harry knows this — it's not a new revelation, and he probably realized it the first time they met when she fired back sarcastic comments about him having a bad dating profile.

(In hindsight, she was absolute right, as she is about many things, but he'll never admit that. At least not for right now.)

They've only been seeing each other for around two months and properly dating for one, but Mia is a creature of habit and he's gotten to know her quite well. She's always cranky after a late afternoon or evening class, she gets a headache when she's hungry, if she drinks more than three glasses of wine without any water in between, she's ending the night with her head in the toilet.

Harry doesn't mind any of these things — he's actually really enjoyed getting to learn the things that make her her, and even if he's holding her hair back with her knees pressing into the heated floors of his bathroom, he adores her.

He really, really adores her.

That's why he's all but clamoring into her apartment, eyes wide with concern, his fist rapidly hitting the wood — because while she was waiting for him to come over, his pretty, lovely Mia is walking around in nothing but a baby tee and a slinky pair of white underwear, and he can see her straight through her window.

Harry considers himself to be well-versed on the threat of violence against women, so he's immediately pounding on the door, demanding she open it. When she does, she swings it open with a look of confusion, still in the same scraps of fabric that barely cover her body. He hisses out and nearly pushes her through the doorframe, slamming it behind them.

"Mi, your fucking curtains are open," he sneers, brushing past her and straight to her living room. He grabs the fabric and pulls them closed, a scowl on his face when he turns around to look at her.

She's standing behind him with her arms crossed, tucked under her breasts just enough to push them up.

"Okay," Mia replies with a shrug, "Are you done?"

Harry furrows his eyebrows, a crease forming between them as he glances back at her now covered window. Is he hallucinating? Why isn't she concerned?

"What are you talking about? Mia, someone could have seen you—"

"Yeah, you did."

"Exactly, but it could've been someone more dangerous than me and you could've gotten hurt—"

"But I didn't."

He huffs in annoyance and steps closer to her, trying to read her expression through his own squinted eyes.

"No, you didn't. But I don't want you prancing around your house with the windows open so some weird perv can watch you. Especially when you're wearing... that."

Mia tilts her head to the side, her lips slightly pursed. "Wearing... what? My pajamas?"

"Those aren't your pajamas, Mia."

He's growing increasingly frustrated with her, not understanding why she's fighting him on every little thing, even if it doesn't make sense.

And then it clicks.

She's doing it on purpose.

She wants to be punished.

"I don't get why you're being so conservative," Mia says with a roll of her eyes, "Maybe if my boyfriend actually paid attention to me, I wouldn't have to try to get it from weird pervs."

Harry's eyebrows shoot up and he surges forward, his form towering over hers. He grabs her by the hips, his fingertips slipping underneath the tight waistband of her underwear. He pulls at the fabric, holds it, and then lets it snap against her skin. She gasps in surprise, but refuses to back down — he can see it in her eyes, she only wants to continue challenging him.

"Is that what you want?" Harry snarls, ducking down so he's at eye level with her, "Attention from strangers you've never met instead of your sweet, loving boyfriend that buys you whatever you want?"

His hands travel around to her ass, cupping and massaging the soft flesh. Goosebumps raise over her arms and legs at his low tone, her eyes rounding out as he grabs at her skin.

"No answer?" he continues, clicking his tongue against his the roof of his mouth, "No? Nothing? You don't wanna admit to me that you know how I sweet I am on you, huh? Remember when I bought you all that makeup you wanted last weekend? And what about the massage I scheduled for you when you were feeling tense from school, hm?"

Mia opens and shuts her mouth, her words dry in her throat every time she goes to answer. Of course she knows how much Harry does for her—how much attention he gives her in a million different ways. But the longer he paws at her ass, arousal quickly dampening the white fabric covering her modesty, she finds that it's impossible for her to verbalize anything, entirely too swept away in Harry's dominance.

"What, you don't wanna be such a brat now?" he pushes, one of his hands moving up the length of her back. He grabs a handful of her hair and pulls, his grasp tight as Mia lets out a wet gasp.

"I'm not a brat," she finally mutters out, teeth grit from the slight bite of pain at the base of her skull, "You just don't how to fuck me, is all."

"Now, I know you're not that fucking dumb," Harry hisses, angling his face closer to hers so that they're almost nose-to-nose. "I know you're just feeling bratty and you want my attention, so I'll give you one chance to apologize. Now."

They both know there's not a chance in hell she's saying she's sorry.

He releases her head and shakes his own, using his newly free hand to grab her jaw. "Open."

She doesn't.

"Mia, open your fucking mouth."

Harry swears her lips pull even tighter together.

"You're an absolute menace, you know that?" he mutters. She's not sure what's she's expecting—she knows she's being the absolute worst right now, grating every last ounce of his patience—but it's certainly not his spit landing on the surface of her lips, a wicked smirk on his face, as if to say I-fucking-told-you-so.

"Lick it up," he simply instructs, removing his hands from her body. She does as she's told, nervous bouts of energy firing through her as her tongue peeks out of her mouth to get rid of his saliva. It's dirty and demeaning but so, so good.

While she does that, he makes a move to remove the leather belt slung around his hips. They've experimented with the belt a few times, but nothing more than a few swats to her thighs or bum — it's intense, and after a few hits, it becomes unenjoyable.

So she's expecting that, but instead he sits down on the couch and pats his thighs. Silently, she complies, prepared to straddle his waist.

"No." he says curtly, nudging her body away with his knee, "Tummy down, ass out."

Mia swallows and nods, slowly lowering her body over the length of the couch. She stretches her torso across Harry's lap with her bum fitting just below his thigh. Once she's settled — with no help from Harry, may she add — she feels him wrap the leather around the thick of her thighs, securing it tightly with the metal buckle. She gasps at the roughness of it; how he's just manhandling her like some kind of doll, the arousal leaking from her pussy smearing between the insides of her legs.

"Why did you have me come over if you just wanted to be a naughty little brat?" Harry asks, his palm finding the globes of her ass, rubbing over them softly.

"I don't know." she mumbles as she crosses her elbows under her chin.

Suddenly, his hand disappears, and just as quickly it's back, a harsh smack sounding through the room as it comes down on her ass.

"Oh!" she exclaims, flinching slightly at the surprise of pain.

"Give me an actual answer, pet."

Mia swallows nervously and rolls her lips into her mouth. "I... I missed you."

"You missed me?" Harry scoffs from above, "So you thought that was the best way to get my attention?"

"We've both been so busy with work and school... jus' wanted your attention, daddy."

He sighs and trails his fingertips up her spine. She allows her eyes to flutter shut at the gentle touch, a reminder that even if he could be mean and punishing, he was still her Harry.

"I know, you're right," he eventually murmurs, moving his hand up to her hair and stroking it, "I know we haven't seen each other much lately and I'm sorry for that."

Mia doesn't reply to that, instead shifting her position slightly, her thighs starting to feel irritated from the constriction of the leather.

"But you know there are better ways to communicate that to me than doing what you did," Harry continues, forming her hair into a loose braid as he speaks, "Your safety and happiness is my number one concern. Always. And I'm not happy that you put your safety at risk just to get my attention."

"I know," she whispers. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are. You're my sweet girl, I know you didn't mean it." He keeps his voice low, his chest vibrating with his words as his other hand dips below the waistband of her underwear, plucking at the thin fabric. "Still gonna have to punish you, though."

Mia makes a hmph sound and he smirks, snapping the waistband again.

"Thought you were doing being bratty. Are you gonna take your punishment like a good pet?"

She can hear the taunting tone in his voice without having to turn around and see his impish face. Even though she's craving his touch, quickly becoming desperate to have his hands on every inch of her skin, she knows disobeying him won't get her anywhere — at least not now, after she's made a scene he won't let her forget.

"Answer me, pup." His words are punctuated by a firm slap across her right ass cheek, a gasp falling from her lips. The quick sting feels good, especially since she knows it's coming from her lover.

"Yes, daddy." Mia replies, pressing her thighs together.

"There's my good girl," he says through a low voice, smacking her left cheek this time, "Now, what are you gonna do the next time you want my attention? The next time you're missing me and thinking of being naughty?"

"Gonna tell you," Mia winces as he delivers another blow. "Not gonna be bad, gonna communicate."

"That's right."

The slaps come faster after that; he counts out 10 but her mind grows fuzzy somewhere around 8, when her skin feels hot to the touch and she's sure the imprint of his hand is clear as day on her ass. The thought makes her core flutter.

"Good job, baby," Harry murmurs, smoothing his hand over her lower back. He uses the other to unbuckle the belt and she hears it tumble to the floor. "You did so good."

She hums, crossing her ankles behind her, "Am I done being punished?"

"Hmm, what do you think?" Harry gently tugs her up so she's on her knees, splitting her thighs to pull them over his waist, "Do you think you deserve some pleasure now? Or should I make you watch daddy just jerk himself off instead?"

A whimper scratches its way out of her throat as she shakes her head, eyes wide.

"No? You don't think I should just tuck my cock into those pretty little pussy lips? Rut against you until I cum all over my pussy?" He presses soft kisses along her jaw and up to her ear as he speaks, a juxtaposition from his dirty words. "And instead of letting you play with my cum the way I know you love... I'll just shove my fingers inside to make sure it sticks, hm? No orgasm, just get you knocked up, all swollen with daddy's cum."

"F-fuck," Mia mewls just as Harry raises his thigh ever so slightly, just enough to brush up against her sensitive clit. Her hips stutter; she's expecting him to scold her but he doesn't, and so she rolls them once more, the smallest bit of pleasure electrifying her entire body.

"Does that turn you on, puppy?" Harry whispers against the shell of her ear, making her jaw drop as she ruts her pussy over his thigh once more, "Having an older man get you pregnant? Make you a mumma? Gorgeous girl with a swollen belly full of daddy's cum, hm?"

"Daddy," she moans, ducking her head back. The stimulation between his words and his muscular thigh is almost too much. She feels like she's close to exploding, every cell in her body erupting into stars.

"You're such a dirty girl, aren't you?" He presses with a dark chuckle, "Should've known from the second I set my eyes on you, going on a date with someone so much older. Just wanted my cock the whole time. Wanted a real man who could take care of you and get you pregnant."

She's moving her hips impossibly fast against his leg now, the layers of fabric doing nothing to stop the bliss quickly zipping through her body.

"I'm gonna— I'm gonna—"

"You're gonna what?" Harry mocks, the sudden feeling of his fingers denting her hip bones making her eyes snap open, "I know you're not gonna say you're coming, puppy."

Mia's jaw drops, her pussy clenching at the orgasm that could have (should have) been. She stutters through an attempt at words but she's too surprised, the evil smirk on Harry's lips distracting her.

"Think that's enough of that for today," he says, tapping her legs once as a wordless request to get up. "Have you eaten? I'm starving."

As Harry trails into the kitchen to look through the contents of her fridge, Mia stays frozen on the couch.

Oh, she was going to get him back for this one.

#writing #sugar daddy h #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles fic recs #one direction

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christinarowie332 · 6 months

Text

who’s on top?

chris sturniolo x reader (smut)

smut !

chris and reader takes some scandalous photos before leaving for dinner , where a girl gets a little too close to chris …..

warnings ; smut , angst, nude photos , alcohol, arguments, choking, ends with some goofy fluff (really long( (not proof read)

requested: by anon , and @oversturn 🤍

———

my feet hit the cold floor of chris’s bathroom, water droplets rolling down my legs , pooling onto the tiles . i grabbed my towel off the toilet seat and wrapped my body in the soft material before walking towards the door to his bedroom.

“chris are you gonna shower or are u just gonna go like that?” i ask as i enter his room , seeing him lay against his headboard scrolling through his phone. he peels his eyes away from the screen , and meets my eyes , sending me a warm smile and getting up from his seat .

“i’m just gonna have a quick one , what times the reservation?” he replies walking towards me and putting both hands on my hips .

“i don’t think we have one , laura just said try and get there for eight , we have like an hour to get ready” i reply calmly, fixing his hair from his eyes . he nods and places a peck to my forehead , before walking past me to the bathroom.

as he showers i take out the clip holding my dry hair , and sit in the floor in a towel doing my makeup, it only takes a couple of minutes as i don’t need to look amazing for chris’s family and friends, they’re my friends too. we’ve been friends for years and dating for a few months .

i finally finish my makeup as chris steps out of the bathroom , a towel around his waist just low enough to see his v line , god he’s hot . he notices me staring and walks towards me . towering over me . “you look beautiful” he says while crouching down , before tilting my jaw up with two fingers so i meet his eyes . his skin is still steaming from the shower , water strung to his torso , bleeding into the crème towel .

i’m left speechless at his comment , his relaxed eyes , his wet hair , his pink lips . he still makes me nervous to this day . and he knows it , the smirk on his face grows as he leans in and slowly kisses my lips , fingers still placed on my chin . i kiss him back before he pulls away smiling .

“i have an idea…” he says with squinted eyes , my eyes brows furrow as he grabs my hands and practically drags me up from where i was sat . as soon as i’m on my feet he’s running off towards my bedside table next to his bed , the contents being random things i would need while staying at his , tooth brush …. condoms ….. underwear…. makeup….. deodorant…..-

“what’s with the polaroid camera?” i say as he spins around , my camera in hand and a cheesy grin on his face .

“just trust me okay?” he says as he softly trails his fingers under the towel on my chest , and un tucks it . dropping the towel to the floor .

“CHRIS?!” i shout as i try and cover my body , he just laughs and drops his own towel , making me ten times more confused .

he says nothing as he walks towards me , and peels my own arms from covering my body , looking down at me and observing everything. he spins us around , so my back is pressed against his chest, he trails his free hand down my side, back up again , and picks up both of by tits , covering the nipples . using his arm as a sort of bra . he brings the polaroid up so it’s next my head. pointing in the mirror and kisses the crook of my neck . snap. he takes a photo in the mirror , my head snaps towards the noise , as the camera prints off the image and he takes it and throws it on the bed .

i can feel his hard on against my ass , so i decide to choose the next pose . i turn around and place my knees of the floor , being at eye height with his dick . i start kissing the tip and his head throws back .snap. he takes another photo . i look up too him innocently, knowing i’ve starter something i can’t finish . he knows too . he bites his bottom lip as i stand back up .

“one more for good luck?” i ask as i turn around towards the mirror . he smiles and raises the camera . i decide that teasing him now would be beneficial to me later tonight . so i bend over and cover my breasts with my arms slightly, my ass is pressed harshly against his dick , one of his hands grabs by hip harshly , as he snaps another photo biting his lip .

he throws the picture on the bed and turns me around , grabbing my neck slightly and pulling me towards his face . the kiss is a hungry one . my hands grabbing anything i could find , his hair , the back of his neck , his shoulders. pulls away , hand still on my neck , his wet and swollen lips matching his now very hard dick . pity . we’re late .

i walk away from him and get into my clothes, touching up my lipstick as it’s now smudged , chris gets clothed , constantly moving the fabric on his crotch , trying disguise his half erect penis .

“bro i’m gonna have to go to dinner with a stiffy” he says while putting on his hoodie . i laugh and finish putting on my heels .

“you were the one who suggested taking nudes ten minutes before we had to leave dumbass” i reply between laughs ,standing up and brushing down my black skintight dress . walking towards chris and fix his hair slightly for him .

“i forget how hot you are sometimes , though this dress is reminding me” he says while placing his hands on my waist and running them to my ass . i let out a breath though my nose , still focused on his half dried hair .

“careful you’ll wake up your little friend” i reply meeting his eyes and smirking , before turning around and grabbing my leather jacket off the bed noticing the now fully processed polaroids . damn i am hot .

we arrive at the restaurant and take our seats. chris is sat next me to obviously, and around the table are his brothers , our friends and laura . the table is filled with laughter and conversation, chris’s hand gently sat on my thigh .

our peace is interrupted as a waitress walks over to take our food order , i take no notice of her at first , but as she takes matt’s order opposite me , i watch her glance at chris . no biggie . it was just a quick look . he’s a handsome guy i can’t blaim her ? but someone please tell me why she’s still fucking looking ?!?!

chris is talking to laura at this point and doesn’t notice as she moves to take nicks order , still looking at chris ? LOOK AT NICK BITCH . i put my arm around the back of my chair and play with chris’s hair as he speaks , the blonde girl taking nicks order doesn’t care to notice me , and flicks her hair over her shoulder before moving around to laura . this makes chris look to me . he notices the scowel that’s currently plastered on my features towards the girl and glances towards where i’m looking in confusion.

i don’t even notice chris’s attention on me as i’m currently trying to kill this bitch with my mind . i wanna wrap her perfect hair around her neck and squeeze until her eyes-

“y/n what do u want ?” chris’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, i realise i haven’t even looked at the menu yet . fuck .

“i’ll just have whatever your having ,babe” i reply , attempting to make the ‘babe’ louder . the waitresses attention is not swerved. for once she’s actually looking and talking to laura .

my heart quickens slight as she turns towards chris , “and what could i do for you?” she says white batting her eye lids like a fucking disney movie , bitch moves in slow motion . my eyes twitch as she puts her hand on his shoulder and laughs . my eyes widen at the sight of her perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder, i will cut that thing off . i will literally grab a butter knife from ur pocket and-

“ok so any more drinks ?” she asks the entire table .

“we’re fine ,u can go now” i reply without thinking , and i immediately regret it as i see chris’s head snap in my direction . so now u pay attention ? i scrape my chair from the table and speak “im getting some air”

i walk back to the table after a couple of minutes outside and i see the waitress bring chris a drink , with a note . he takes it with a smile and caries on his conversation with matt . fuck this.

i walk towards the bar and ask to speak to the blonde girl . waiting for her to come over . she walks over with a smile before noticing my angered expression and dropping her face . “hi what can i get for you?”

“vodka and cherry, with ice , oh and you to stop flirting with my boyfriend” i say with fake kindness, opening my wallet and grabbing my card . the polaroid of us that we took earlier being shown to her in all its glory , chris’s face being in full view as i crouch infront of his dick .

“oh! oh i’m so sorry i didn’t realise-“

“that we were together ? yeah , i thought so , i’d like to know what the fuck you just passed to him with his drink?” i cut her off before stirring the drink the made and waiting for her to reply.

“nothing ! i swear it was just a napkin” she replies , her voice slightly shakey as she takes my payment .

“ok , so now your aware , do your job and leave my boyfriend alone … hope your not expecting a tip” i say before grabbing my drink and walking towards the table .

i sit down next to chris . and place my drink next to his , an identical one . what? his face lights up as he sees me and places a hand on my thigh again before speaking. “you okay ?”

i smile at him and say i’m fine , turning towards my food and eating it in silence. my chest still heavy and adrenaline still pumping from the conversation i had .

we finish our food and i’m silent in the uber home , i walk straight to chris’s room .

i roll my eyes at the sound of him walking in after me . i throw my leather jacket on the bed and turn to him .

“what the fuck is wrong?” he asks as i face him ,”you’ve been acting weird since we got to dinner , literally haven’t said a word to me ?”

i can slowly feel the anger rising in my chest , and the tears threatening to spill , “chris please don’t fucking start , i cannot be bothered with this tonight” i reply attempting to walk away from him , but i’m met with a hand around my wrist . “CHRIS I SWEAR TO FUCK”

“WHAT’S WRONG ?” he raises his voice , but not an angry way , just slightly pleading with me

“what’s wrong ? WHATS WRONG ??? THAT WAITRESS WAS EYE FUCKING YOU THE ENTIRE DINNER !”

“WHICH WAITRESS?”

“OH YOURE TELLING ME YOU DIDNT NOTICE THE BLONDIE SLIPPING U A DRINK AND BATTING HER EYELASHES AT YOU”

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT-“

“I LITERALLY HAD TO THREATEN THIS GIRL ! LIKE FULLY WENT OVER AND DID THE WHOLE-“

“you what?” his soft voice catches me off guard . his face wasn’t angry it was neutral as he places his hand on my waist. my eyes soften as i let a breath out . i’m not angry at him at all . he has done nothing . but he’s still mine . no one else’s. mine .

“get on the bed , clothes off . “ i say taking my own clothes off . my words completely catch him off guard , eyes widened and eyebrows furrowed. he does as i say tho , rapidly ripping off each layer of clothes before taking my face in his hands and attaching his lips onto mine .

the kiss was passionate , almost violent. our tongues battling for dominance , there was no winner as my teeth grab his lower lip causing him to hiss . he walks us to the bed before we collapse into it , him towering over me still tongue deep into my mouth . he pulls away smirking. “all this for a girl just looking at me ?” he says tilting his head before i answer him by leaching forward and attempting to attach our lips once more . he moves his head back and moves his hand from the back of my neck , to my throat , pressing down slightly, making the pool of arousal between my legs grow more . “what’s gotten into you mama?”

“nothing , so let’s fix that shall we?” i grab his hand from my throat and flip us over , holding him down by his chest . the confidence from my argument with the waitress still lingering . “she was looking at you, so i have her something else to look at , those polaroids ? how about we make some more of them hmm?” i whisper in his ear before placing a sloppy kiss to his neck and biting down slightly on the skin , pulling a whimper from the man beneath me .

he nods rapidly as i trail my fingers down his chest , to his happy trail and down to his bare and very hard dick , stroking it before running it between my folds .

“what got you so wet hmm?” he asks breathlessly before his head throws back at the feeling of me placing his tip in my entrance , sinking down on lit slightly .

“just shut up and fuck me” i reply before he thrusts upwards harshly, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth , i moan loudly before i feel a hand around my throat . i lift myself up and down on his dick , his hand pressed harshly on my hip , sure to leave a bruise. i smack his hand away from my throat and i hold his arms down as i continue to ride him .

“fuck , fuck Y/N FUCK” he screams before i slap a hand over his mouth and continue my movements , his hand being free now slaps my ass before rubbing and massaging the pain away , helping me move up and down .his moans muffled by my fingers ,he starts to thrust up into me . reaching a spot deep into my core making my eyes roll back into my head .my hands grab the headboard ,allowing his hands to grab my tits , leaning up to suck purple marks into any skin he could reach .

“AUGH, chris , chris FUCK RIGHT THERE” i allmost scream as he continues his relentless deep thrusts , he flips us over once again , moving me by my neck.

“chris” i choke out as his pressure makes it hard for me to speak . he keeps his grip on my neck , but releases enough for me to talk . a conversation we both had a while back making it clear both of our boundaries, and love for choking . he moans slightly and nods. telling me to speak . “chris baby FUCK, i’m so close CHRIS FUCK” i struggle to keep quiet as his speed picks up , making the knot in my stomach slowly tighten.

“me too baby , me TOO FUCK” he replies before i grab him by his throat and attach our lips , trying to muffle our moans as we both reach our orgasm , i feel him release into me , making the knot in my stomach snap harder then i ever have before . my head throws back as to not bite down on his lip at the feeling , a loud and allmost pornographic moan erupting from my mouth . he slows down his thrusts before collapsing onto me , still twitching slightly as my legs shake beneath him .

we stay like this for a while , our tired and sticky body’s attached together , heat and sweat rolling off our skin . he finally flops down next to me , our chests still heaving breaths and his cheeks red and plump . i grab a tissue from the side of his bed and clean myself up before sliding a spare pair of underwear on and pulling the sheets over us both .

“you okay?” he asks turning towards me and leaning his head on his hand , held up by his elbow resting on a pillow .

“am i okay?? i’m pretty sure you busted s blood vessel from that” i reply stroking his face , before kissing his forehead and moving his hair from his sweaty skin .

“that was literally the best sex we have ever had , all it took was some blonde girl to flirt with me a little” he replies laughing before his face drops at the sight of my serious face.

“so you remember the colour of her hair ?? YOU REMEMBER HER FLIRTING WITH YOU?!” i say in fake anger , before laughing at his face dropping.

“IM STILL SO CONFUSED THO” he says sitting up against the headboard .

i roll my eyes at him and lie my head on his lap i’ve the covers , his hand meets my hair as he runs his fingers through it gently , looking down at me with soft eyes .

“she bought you a drink chris!” i say softly , my voice high and defensive.

“what drink ? what are you talking about baby?

“the cherry one !”

his face drops before he starts to laugh , his eyes sauinting before he rubs his fingers over them .

“what?” i reply ,confused as to what the fuck this kid finds funny right now .

“bro i bought you that drink , she didn’t do shit , i got it cuz i thought u liked cherry shit right?”

oh ….

“oh!” i say relaxing my body .

“your so stupid sometimes”

“CHRIS?!”

“LOVE YOU THO”

“NAH FUCK YOU”

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this took so long to type it in so much pain ! this is shit as well but i tried !!

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