#HE BETTER LIVE I SWEAR TO SHIT I SWEAR TO ABSOLUTE FUCKING SHIT
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been playing yttd over the course of the last few days and it's really good and also if ANYTHING ever happens to gin again i will commit crimes
#mine#yttd#yttd spoilers#the game is really good though like genuinely holy crap#we arent done yet but we are on chapter 3 rn#gin is very obviously our favorite we are never immune to wittle guys AND HE IS JUST A WITTLE GUY#AND A CANONICALLY AUTISTIC WITTLE GUY WE ADORE HIM SO MUCH#HE BETTER LIVE I SWEAR TO SHIT I SWEAR TO ABSOLUTE FUCKING SHIT#the trial w him getting poisoned.... bro. you look me in my eyes NEVER FUCKING HURT HIM AGAIN#EVER#and him always defending sara and calling all the girls his big sis i cant i cant i adore him thats my son#THATS MY SON!!!!! NEVER HARM A HAIR ON HIS WITTLE HEAD AGAIN#also sou is absolutely fucking insufferable he makes me miss & appreciate n*gito which is like. fr fucked up#i didnt think that was possible but here we are#& i feel like a bad person bc in spite of that i chose him over kanna......#I JUST. I FEEL LIKE HE'S V MUCH INVOLVED SOMEHOW IDK BRO#IM ONTO HIS SHIT. he already lied abt his identity he feels so involved bro.#idk how Exactly. he's a bit too obvious to be the mastermind or an organizer but.#he def is involved. with the strings. Somehow. and i hate him.
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YouTube yesterday: Hey btw The Longest Johns just released a song about Horatio Nelson's death.
Me: Cool, excuse me as I stare off into space and think about L'Manburgian soldiers' reaction to hearing about Kiril's dying to withering whenever I play the song.
#regicide au#like yes I know realistically Kiril would be a bit of a controversial figure in L'Manburg#his father (and ancestry in general tbh) represents centuries of colonialism and oppression#like ffs you can't just walk into a place like Pogtopia going 'hi I promise I'm a good Krafta'#when you've had to spend the past few years drastically unlearning all the colonialist propaganda you were fed as a child#anyway Artur is representative of continuing the oppression of an entire people no matter how hard you have to grind your boot on them#while Kiril represents the effort to at least make a start on fixing the mistakes of the past#with liberation in the hopes that will open the door for reparations etc#not that he ever expects to see that because he'll be dead from fratricide#(not to mention shit like that will take generations for the wounds to begin healing so no veteran of this war will live to see it either)#he still wants to do *something* as a way to work towards that better future though#a war of independence sure as fuck wasn't what he imagined but 'the universal language is violence' yada yada#it certainly seems to be Artur's universal language#and Kiril gains an even better image of himself as a general who is willing to fight and potentially die with his soldiers#those under his command absolutely have deep respect for him thanks to how he conducts himself#...and then the withered arrows start flying#people are going to end up talking about how he never let on he was hit himself#he simply visited the affected soldiers in the infirmary some of whom were doomed to die in one of the worst ways possible#then he was gone. just grabbed by his brother so he could be killed in Rayusel (or away from the public eye in general)#rumours are going to fly about all sorts of things pertaining to Kiril's final hours but one thing is for sure#there is going to be grief amongst the soldiers who loved him#'let him die in peace' ...yeah they really are going to hope that somehow he didn't suffer as much as a typical withering victim#god I am just shaking this song vigourously by its shoulders I swear
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Gonna throw up If I can't talk about them-
Bunch of Aiden analysis under the cut because he's just SO OBSESSED CODED AND NOBODY TALKS ABOUT IT 😭 (I will be very weird about it)
The way it's so doomed from the start. He's already so fascinated by her. It's in the little jump he does when she sits in front of him, like a secret they're both in on, like her sitting in front of him is some obscure way of her inviting him into a conversation.
Why is he like this (not positive but not negative either)
He has such a cocktail of personality traits and, most certainly, mental disorders, and his own history that makes it so, when he's in love, that it WILL blow up in his face.
The fact that he's been homeschooled for his entire life- he has no idea. HE DOESNT EVEN KNOW. He doesnt realize that its not normal. of course he doesn't :( His parents obviously leave him alone for long stretches of time and he doesn't seem to mind this. He hasn't had the chance to develop his social skills at all-
It's why he's so, let's be real, creepy. Ash makes it very clear she's not interested and he just keeps worming his way into her life. He plots so that she'll go on the field trip, he follows her around, he goes to her fucking house on the first day. LIKE, HELLO? RED FLAG?
He's having evil thoughts here I swear 💀
And already so quickly after meeting her he makes Ash his priority. He asks to sit next to her, he engages and makes an effort to talk to her. Tries to joke around with her. Gives her a nickname. Touches her. He's so touchy.
And defends her!!! When Tyler gets pissed at Ash, he honestly goes off on him even tho he KNOWS Ash can defend herself- and he's so...dark about it. There's a threat hidden behind his words. He's MAD here, right? Tell me I'm not crazy, please-
He also very clearly has violence on the forefront of his mind 💀 He's the first one to actively attack the phantoms; not to defend himself, not to defend somebody else (well, he pulls Ash out of the way), but for fun. And he's disappointed when they don't scream. He's sadistic, he likes causing pain, it's something he relishes in.
I mean look at how he smiles!!! None of the other kids have such an...active ENJOYMENT in fighting the phantoms, but for Aiden, it's almost like he finds relief in it, some way to vent out his frustrations. He's eager for a fight, for a thrill.
That's how Aiden sustains himself, he pretty much operates under "I'm here for a good time, not a long time." Everything he does gives him a boost of adrenaline, no matter the consequences. He got into a fight? Eh, who cares about all the bruises, at least it got his blood rushing. Broke a bone while doing parkour or smth? Whatever, the way his stomach dropped when he was falling as totally worth it.
It's a very dangerous mentality to live with, obviously. He's an adrenaline junkie. He's an addict. More than anything else, Aiden wants something that makes him feel alive.
And what makes you feel more alive than love?
Like not to minimise or anything but he's known her for like. 2-3 months- and he's already SO scared of losing her. Like I just don't think he would have had this type of reaction with anybody else besides Ben. He would have absolutely lost his shit if Ash 'died'.
He's a straight up love junkie. He's obsessive. Nothing beats the high love can give you. It overrules everything else. If Ash (or whoever he's interested in) feels bad because of smth, he's done with it.
He LIKED dying. He LIKED the adrenaline rush. But he won't do it again. Not because he had some realization that he didn't want to die, that he still wanted to live and do things, but because Ash was upset. Because this, this rush of care from her part, the way she was so scared of him dying that she was shaking, nothing could fill the hole in his heart better than that. And now that he has a taste for it, he won't let go easy. He will keep on living- if it means Ash will be by his side.
Which is a very dangerous position to put her in. Ash already feels responsible for her friends, and she doesn't even know that Aiden has "put" his life in her hands, not that it's her responsibility, because it isn't, but she will certainly feel responsible if Aiden does something FOR her.
Like He's so fucking obsessed and he doesn't even realize it- like look at how he sees her 😭 THE HEAVENLY GLOOOOOOW, LIKE SHES AN ANGEL AND HE THINKS SHE CAN SAVE HIM. BABY SHE CANT, YOU HAVE TO SAVE YOURSELF.
He could spiral so fucking bad. He could do some absolutely heinous things. Because he just doesn't know. He doesn't know how to love truly, yet. For him love really is that rush of adrenaline, the knife carving out his heart, he could be putty in her hands, or her executioner. This love that can be so obsessive, that he NEEDS it to function, like its water, like its the air he breathes. Its a compulsion, a fixation, a longing that burrows into your very soul. Ash doesn't even know what she's getting herself into-
Godddddd, it makes me so sick/ pos, it's SO FUCKING INTERESTINGGGGGG. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.
I literally cannot function around this drawing 🫠
The. The hand. That way he's grabbing her. He's pulling her back. Towards HIM. like "this is mine. And I'm not sharing." And that little fucking look in his eyes, he just looks SO fucking pleased with himself. And Ash looks so...resigned. they're so doomed-coded, i love them so bad.
I don't know how I was supposed to NOT make a killer au, when he's just...like that around her.
Love is a wonderful thing. But love is also cruel, it is vicious, it is possessive and obsessive, and it will leave carnage in its wake.
Romantic love is an obsession. It possesses you. You lose your sense of self. You cannot stop thinking about another human being. -Helen Fisher
#sbg#school bus graveyard#school bus graveyard webtoon#sbg (webtoon)#aiden clark#ashlyn banner#aidlyn#aiden x ashlyn#im gonna scream#rip my teeth out#idk idk#im just mentally ill about them 🫠#tw obsessive behavior
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Always Ever Only You Part 26 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: No matter what Bradley did, you seemed frustrated with him. You needed a new car, but you needed to start communicating with him even more. He was scrambling to try to fix everything, but it was hard when you could barely stay awake for a conversation.
Warnings: Swearing, drinking, pregnancy topics, angst
Length: 5900 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32
When nearly a week had gone by, and you still wouldn't focus on picking out a new car for yourself, Bradley was starting to get frustrated. Sharing the Bronco with you wasn't a big deal. You respected it and treated it well, but he had to play nice when you wanted to use it to go to brunch on Sunday with Cam and Maria at the same time he wanted to play golf.
"Can't Jake pick you up?" you asked him with an annoyed sigh. "I'll text him and ask if he can come get you."
"Why can't Cam or Maria pick you up?" he asked, feeling kind of fucking fed up with you at the moment.
"Fine," you replied, an eerily calm expression taking over your face. "I'll have one of them pick me up for brunch in the morning. Don't worry about it."
You turned on your heel and walked back to the bedroom leaving Bradley raking his fingers through his hair. He had finally started to feel normal again after having your parents at the house for a few days. It's not like they were even loud or inconsiderate, but he just struggled a bit with it anyway. He wasn't used to closing the bedroom door knowing Tramp liked to wander around the house at all hours of the day and night. He liked to take a piss with the bathroom door open, and he liked to randomly reach up under your shirt when you were in the kitchen if you welcomed it. And he just couldn't do any of that with other people in the house, even though it was family.
"Fuck," he mumbled. It wasn't even a big deal for you to take the Bronco to brunch. Jake or Javy could easily get him on their way to the golf course, and now he needed to go apologize to you. But the bedroom door was closed when he got there, and he immediately felt like he needed to be touching you, because you were literally the only person who could be in his personal space all day long and not usually annoy him in the slightest.
When he turned the knob, he was relieved to find it wasn't locked. "Baby Girl?" he called out cautiously, and then he found you in the bathroom. "Shit," he whispered, watching you wipe your eyes before turning toward the mirror, but there was no way to hide from him in here. "I'm sorry."
"Could you just leave me alone?" you asked without looking at him.
The words caused him physical pain, because that was the last thing he wanted right now. He'd gotten used to how much better everything was recently, and he was absolutely unwilling to stop communicating with you. "Can we talk about it? About a car? We could buy one tomorrow if you pick one out."
You turned and snapped at him. "Maybe next time just don't fuck up the one I already have!"
He had apologized to you countless times. He'd given your shit car a eulogy. He had offered to buy you any car you found that you wanted, but now he was just as mad as you were. "I just wanted to tell you that you can use the Bronco tomorrow."
"How generous," you replied sarcastically. "But I already told you I'll get a ride from Cam or Maria. Now would you please leave me alone?"
Bradley nodded and retreated back to the living room couch with Tramp, because he didn't know what else to do. He stretched out and decided to look at cars until you resurfaced to make dinner. There were two huge dealerships in San Diego that had the current model year of your old car, and they both had them stocked in several colors with different options available. You could get a new red one with a sunroof and gray interior just like you had before. He'd upgrade the stereo package to make riding in it less painful for him, but he'd buy it right now if you said it's what you wanted.
As he thought back to the way you dragged your feet about wedding planning, he muttered a string of obscenities. At this rate, he'd be sharing the Bronco with you for a long time. He bookmarked a bunch of new cars, and then he searched all over the country to see if anyone was selling an exact replica of the one he totaled. A few hours later, it occurred to him that you never came back out of the bedroom. He scooped up Tramp where he'd fallen asleep on his chest and carried him back down the hallway.
You were sound asleep in bed, curled up on your side, breathing softly. Bradley checked the time again. It was only 7:15, but maybe you just needed to rest. He tucked the covers up around your shoulders and kissed your forehead before venturing back out to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich before working out.
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By the middle of the week, you were aggressively annoyed by everything, but mostly Bradley's voice. On Sunday, Cam picked you up for brunch even though Bradley told you a million times you could use the Bronco. You didn't even want to use the Bronco. He could use it all day long. And then you went back to Cam's place and lounged on his couch until you were starting to get hungry for dinner. If Bradley wondered why you were out for a six hour brunch, he didn't ask.
But when he eventually called your phone, you asked Cam to drive you home. "Your husband is like a twelve out of ten," he murmured as he drove you. "Don't be mean to him." Then you climbed out of his car onto your driveway and rolled your eyes, because after that he was getting on your nerves, too.
So on Monday and Tuesday, you just avoided Bradley as much as you could at work after driving in with him, but on Wednesday, as he pulled into the parking garage, he cleared his throat. "Hard Deck tonight?"
"You can go," you replied as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "You can take the Bronco, and I'll just stay home." You bit your lip immediately as you said the words, because you felt like crying. You couldn't understand what was wrong with you as tears burned your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was skip a fun night out. You also didn't know why you couldn't commit to a car. Everything felt like too much the last few days, and you wanted to scream.
"Can we talk about this?" Bradley asked, his voice pleading with you, but you didn't even know what to say.
"Later," you told him before heading for the building, but he was right behind you, undeterred.
"Don't give me that later bullshit. We've been talking and communicating a lot better, and I absolutely refuse to stop doing either of those things!"
You spun around so fast, he almost collided with you. "I have a meeting with Bickel, okay? About Annapolis. And it starts in twenty minutes. And I'm tired. And I miss my car. And I need to go."
After that, you weren't sure if he followed you or not, because you didn't turn around to check. When you got to your office and opened your computer, you saw the calendar reminder that made more tears cloud your vision. You cradled your forehead in your hand. Saturday was Carole Bradshaw's birthday.
The fact that you forgot it was coming up was worrying, because you couldn't let work take over your life again like it had in the past. You'd been mentally planning to make another fancy dinner to celebrate her day, the way you had for both of Bradley's parents' birthdays last year. Filet mignon and crab cakes and brownies.
Fuck. You wanted to sit alone in your office and cry all morning, but now you had four minutes until you had to sit down with your boss. You pulled yourself together the best you could and made your way to talk to Bickel. Cat was there too, and you could feel her intense gaze on you as if she was physically touching you. You knew she could tell something was on your mind, but you sat as calmly as you could and looked through the folder of information that was given to you.
Bickel folded his hands on his desk and said, "I'm letting the two of you decide how you'd like to present our work in Annapolis. I'm trying to finalize some dates for us, but it's looking like the first week of August. This would add two million dollars to our pending budget for next year, which would give us the opportunity to explore an even more advanced comms system. And it would be a great way for me to push for your promotion, Lieutenant Coleman."
"Yes, Sir," Cat replied immediately. When you were both dismissed, she took you by the arm out in the hallway and whispered, "Please, I need you to focus on this for me. Okay? Why do you look like you're on the verge of tears?"
"I'm having a bad week," you whispered, still unsure why you felt like this. Your fingers were tingling, and you were so anxious, you were about to walk yourself to see Dr. Genevieve. But you hadn't eaten breakfast, and it was almost lunchtime now after Bickel kept you so long. "I need lunch," you told Cat, and she sighed and walked down to the cafeteria with you.
Part of you wanted to see Bradley, but part of you did not. And something about the idea of a burrito bowl was turning your stomach just looking at it. You picked out a sandwich and some soup and found a spot at a table that was completely empty except for Bob.
"Hi," you said softly, and he looked up from his notebook with a smile as you slid into the seat across from him.
"Hi," he replied in his sweet voice that immediately made you feel calmer. "I actually was hoping to see you to thank you again. Maria has been really accommodating about me moving in, and this way I don't have to commute into the city every day."
You waved him off as you tried a spoonful of the flavorless soup. "I'm just happy it worked out. For both of you. I didn't want Maria to have some creep move in since she couldn't find anyone else. And obviously you're just lovely, Bob."
He visibly bristled a bit. "No, she shouldn't have to deal with a creepy roommate."
Then Jake dropped down in the seat next to yours and turned to smile as Cat sat on his other side. "Angel. What the hell are you doing to Rooster now?"
"What do you mean?" you asked, looking around, but your husband and Nat were still in line for food.
"He's fucking miserable today. Cranky as hell. And I know for a fact nothing can set that man off the way you can. It's honestly pretty funny, but he did snap at me three times. It's like dealing with Hondo all over again."
"Sorry," you heard Cat mutter as she ate her lunch.
You gripped your spoon in your hand and took a deep breath, but all you could say was, "I don't know." You truly didn't know what was going on. Your brain was in a constant fog, and you felt so antsy.
Bradley sat across the table from you, eyeing you carefully from his spot next to Bob. You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but you didn't know if it came across that way when he just looked sadder.
"Who's coming to the bar tonight?" Nat asked loudly.
After Jake and Cat agreed to go, you quietly said, "Not me. I have to catch up on some things I was supposed to read, but I'll drop Bradley off for the night."
Your husband shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but Nat was already squeezing his shoulder. "Sounds good," she said, and after that, he sat quietly.
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Bradley flew all afternoon, and it was bad. Just really, very bad. He was distracted, and the fact that Javy had to keep repeating himself was about to earn Bradley a lecture from Maverick if he didn't pull it together. But you were just making him so sad, and he had no idea why you were currently barely able to look at him without crying or yelling.
He hadn't even done anything. Had he? Yeah, he'd completely destroyed your beloved car, but the visit with your parents had gone pretty well. He hadn't missed any important dates of anniversaries. He'd been keeping up with his chores at home.
You'd been running a bit hot and cold in the bedroom. He'd never push you for more than you wanted to do, but then perhaps he hadn't been good for you recently? The mere thought had him squirming and sweating in his cockpit as he followed Javy into a dive. Shit. Could that be it? He always got you off. Except that he knew he hadn't in the family bathroom at the Padres game, but you and he had been in a rush. And that night last week when you started yawning while you rode him, he distinctly remembered you saying it didn't matter if you came since you were so tired.
Shit. Things had been going great, he didn't realize what he'd been doing, and now he had to figure out how to fix it when you seemed so disinterested in talking to him. As he brought his jet back down to the tarmac he tried to come up with a plan, but he felt helpless. These were the times he felt like having a mother of his own would come in handy, because he couldn't exactly take this to your mom.
"Fuck." He wrenched his helmet off and ran his fingers through his hair. You were sending him off to the bar alone tonight to get him out of your space, he could tell. So maybe the best thing he could do right now was just follow your lead.
After he showered and headed for the parking garage, he found you leaning against the side of the Bronco waiting for him. "Hi, Sweetheart," he said, leaning down to kiss you softly.
Your quiet response of, "Hi, Roo," made him feel a lot better, and you let him buckle you in, which was great. But then you said, "I'll just drop you off at the bar later and come back for you. I have some things I want to get done."
He nodded. "Sure. Whatever you want."
Back at home, he was able to coax you onto his lap for dinner at the dining room table, and even though it was a quiet affair, he didn't mind. He just rubbed his hand up and down your back, and eventually you sank back against him even though you'd only had a few bites of food. You were practically asleep on him as he finished eating, but you jolted up when his phone vibrated against your hip.
"It's probably just Nat," he whispered, and you nodded as you checked the time.
"I'll drop you off whenever you're ready, and I'll come back for you around ten?"
He cupped your perfect cheek in one hand and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to come? I can help you get caught up with work tomorrow or this weekend. I'm a pretty good helper."
You cracked the tiniest smile as you said, "I'm just not in the mood. You go and drink and have fun, and I'll come back for you."
He kissed your cheek. "I'll be waiting, ready to come home with you whenever you get there."
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When Bradley climbed out of the Bronco, you watched him head inside the bar. He was wearing his white and yellow floral print shirt, part of the matching set that he'd bought for the two of you, and he looked so sexy, you were thrumming with need. You were all over the place. A few days ago, the mere sight of him had you ready to climb out the window, and now you were on the verge of chasing him down to fuck you.
"Get a grip. My god," you moaned as you pulled back onto the road. At least now you could go to the store and purchase everything you'd need to make Carole's birthday dinner in peace.
The store was quiet, which was great, because you didn't currently know if something was about to set you off. You grabbed a cart, and the cool metal against your hands felt nice. A smile found its way to your face as you listened to Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac playing throughout the store and picked out some beautiful looking steaks. Then you found everything for the crab cakes and the brownies, and you got a bottle of expensive champagne.
You were already feeling better now, almost excited to celebrate the mother-in-law that you'd never had the privilege of meeting. She deserved a special day and a fancy dinner, because even though you didn't know her personally, you were absolutely certain Carole Bradshaw was incredible. The sparkle of your engagement ring caught your eye, and you stood in front of the wine and champagne and sobbed quietly until you felt like you could continue shopping.
It had to be the combination of work and her birthday and your car that was setting you off. No matter how bad it made you feel, you'd pick out a new car this weekend. You knew there was enough in your savings account for a down payment, so you just had to force yourself to bite the bullet. You'd do it for Bradley and for yourself.
While you unpacked the groceries, you made a sandwich, finally hungry again after you'd barely been able to eat dinner. But that started to make you too full after just half of it. "Don't tell Daddy," you whispered before feeding it to Tramp.
Then you sat at the island and read through the folder from Bickel. You had weeks of research and planning ahead of you, but it would be worth it for the grant money. Cat was a solid gold choice as a partner for this, especially since she was motivated by that promotion she wanted. You were excited, but realistically so. You needed to make sure you didn't overdo things this time around. You could rely on Cat as much as yourself, and you knew that now.
When you checked the time on your phone, it was already 10:30. You texted Bradley and let him know you'd be there soon. When you started the Bronco, you got a text back.
Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: Can't wait for you to take me home.
You smiled and sang on your way there, already feeling better about having everything for Carole's birthday dinner ready to go. You parked the Bronco and headed inside, twirling Bradley's keyring on your fingers. As soon as you pushed the door open, the wave of noise hit you, and you made a beeline for the pool table. Penny's summer drink specials must have been on point, because the place was packed.
Just when you were trying to squeeze between two massive guys, you caught sight of Bradley just in time to see a woman walk up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. Maybe he thought it was you at first, because he spun to face her with a smile on his face. You got jostled around a little bit as your steps faltered and came to a stop. Bradley was conversing a bit with her now, although his smile was gone, and you watched as she reached up with her perfectly manicured nails and dragged them along his paper airplane tattoo on his bicep.
"Oh, hell no," you gasped, registering that Bradley looked surprised, and not in a good way. But you were frozen to the spot now as disgust, embarrassment and jealousy washed over you. It wasn't like he wasn't wearing his wedding band. He was. How was that not enough? You couldn't decide if you wanted to run away or rip her head off.
Bradley immediately started to back away from her, shaking his head as he went, and then his gaze connected with yours. He mouthed your name, and you could see the concern on his face as you swallowed hard. Instead of running away, you stood there like an idiot when he came rushing in your direction.
"Sweetheart," he said, reaching for your hand, his eyes on yours.
"Who's your friend?" you asked. Your voice sounded like it belonged to someone else while your throat burned.
You let him wrap one big hand around your back and pull you closer, holding you there. "No idea. Never saw her before thirty seconds ago."
"I didn't like her touching you."
His eyebrow quirked up as his hand dipped a little lower. "Neither did I. Especially since I got the tattoo for you, Baby Girl."
You had your arms around his neck instantly, the other woman forgotten as you kissed your husband. He tasted like your favorite beer, and you whimpered. But your body felt somehow both too tender and too needy pressed up against him as you said, "It's for me. Mine. Let's go home."
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Bradley let you drive since he'd had a fair amount to drink. That fucking woman just about ruined his night by asking him what he was drinking and then touching his arm, feigning interest in his unique tattoo. The past week had already felt like touch and go with you, and he was unwilling to make it worse. He still wasn't quite sure how to get things back to where they had been just a short time ago.
When you parked in the driveway in the spot where you used to park your car, he almost winced. But you crawled over to his lap and started to unbutton his shirt. "Take me to bed," you told him, rubbing yourself on him through his jeans.
He grunted in response, carrying you up to the porch and wrestling with his key in the lock as you kissed his neck. Clothing was discarded along the way, and when he got you in the bedroom with the soft lamplight illuminating your skin, he moaned.
"Jesus Christ, you're a dream."
Truly, your tits had never looked better, and somehow the aroused looking little scowl you were shooting his way was really working him up as you shimmied your jeans down your legs. He was hard when you finally pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top.
"I love you," he promised as your lips met his, and you sank down around his length. Warm and wet and perfect. Holy shit, you felt incredible as you rolled your hips slowly, his hands settling at your waist. You were velvety smooth everywhere. The only thing he wanted.
He held your hips in his hands and thrust up into you as his lips met your nipple. You moaned as he licked you, but as soon as he sucked hard, pulling you between his lips, you gasped. So he did it again and again, but your hips stilled and your hands left his shoulders and reached for his cheeks.
"It hurts," you gasped, pushing his face away from your chest. "Stop."
He let his head settle back on the pillow. "Sorry." Tentatively, he brought his hand up to your left breast and gave you a nice squeeze, but you pulled away further. Then you were kneeling next to him with your arms crossed over your chest. "Sorry," he repeated. "But I always touch you that way?"
You burst into tears and said, "It just hurts."
And that was the last thing you said to him for the night as you crawled under the covers. As soon as Bradley got his erection under control by pacing around the bathroom, he walked back to the bed to find you sound asleep.
On Thursday and Friday, you didn't even acknowledge it. When he asked if it was okay if he touched you on Thursday morning, you went willingly into his arms as the toaster popped out your breakfast. And on Friday morning, you let him snuggle with you a little bit before you got out of bed, so at least he was fairly convinced you weren't too mad at him. But he just knew he hadn't been doing enough for you in bed which really pissed him off.
He was older than everyone else around him seemingly all the time, and now he was feeling insecure about it again. If he could just manage to get you to have a real conversation with him, then he'd try to fix this. But you were busy with work, something else that had a red flag shooting up in the back of his mind. No, he was not going to fuck this all up yet again. You and he had something special, and he was going to demand a conversation.
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You poked at your lunch on Friday as Jake and Bradley argued next to you in the cafeteria. You were barely able to pay attention to them, because you were so tired, and you had another meeting with Bickel in an hour. As far as you could tell, you were getting the flu, which seemed weird for July, but nothing else made sense.
No matter how much you slept, you were exhausted. Your body was aching, and you were so damn moody. You'd practically accosted Bradley on Wednesday after you picked him up from the bar, but then you fell asleep as soon as you told him your breasts hurt. You felt embarrassed now as you looked at him next to you, because after all of that, you didn't even let him finish that night.
As you adjusted your shirt, you could have screamed at how tender your nipples were. At least it was Friday. You could catch up on reading for your presentation research, and then you could sleep.
"Come on, Rooster," Jake complained. "You have to come tomorrow. I'll leave the hard seltzers at home, and Javy and I will behave."
Bradley turned to look at you with big, brown eyes before he told Jake, "No. No golf tomorrow. I have some things I need to take care of." Then he turned back toward you and softly said, "We're talking tomorrow. About a bunch of stuff. Until we are sorted out."
Now you felt guilty as Jake shot you a look. "We can talk tomorrow afternoon, Roo. Go play golf."
"Yeah, Bradshaw," Jake piped up. "Angel said you can do shit with her in the afternoon. So you'll come with Bob, Javy and I? You know Reuben sucks at golf. He's even worse than you."
"Go," you told Bradley, kissing the edge of his mustache before you stood. "Yes, Jake, he will be golfing tomorrow. I plan on sleeping in, and the quiet house will be nice."
Bradley reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he looked up at you. "I love you."
You nodded. "I love you, too. I need to go get ready for a meeting." His eyes were on your body as you walked away, but you needed to focus on work right now.
It was all you could do to go back to Bickel's office with Cat and not fall asleep in his soft leather chair. Your boss's calm voice and the warm room were almost too much for your senses. You were fighting with yourself to keep your eyes open. Fighting with everything you had to stay engaged. An hour went by and then two, and he was still talking, and so was Cat, and they kept asking you for input. You were clinging to your extensive knowledge on the subject matter and hoping for the best when Bickel's desk phone rang, and he finally dismissed you.
"This is so exciting," Cat gushed out in the cooler hallway. "I was telling Jake last night that you and I are going to have the best presentation at the Naval Academy next month, and do you know what he said?"
"Hmm?" you hummed as you walked to the lab.
"He offered to watch Jeremiah!"
"Oh." You hadn't even really considered how hard it would be for Cat to go to Maryland with you, but this was probably a big deal. Jeremiah wasn't even two yet. "Wow. Look at Jake being an exceptional boyfriend. Good thing I pushed the two of you to actually communicate with each other."
Cat laughed and hugged you before entering the lab, but you cringed. Communication. You'd talk to Bradley tomorrow afternoon. You'd pick a car tomorrow afternoon. But when you got home today, you were going to take your temperature and then get in bed.
You had to wait by the Bronco for such a long time, you contemplated texting Bradley to see what the holdup was. It was late, you were actually starving, and you wanted to go home. You shifted your bag from one shoulder to the other, beyond annoyed that there was only one key to this thing; you couldn't even sit inside. You glared at the pretty blue paint, really missing your ugly red car with your whole heart when you heard boots pounding the pavement behind you.
"I'm so sorry, Baby Girl," Bradley gasped. He must have run the whole way here from the tarmac since he was still in his flight suit. "We ran over. I should have left the keys with you this morning. I"m sorry."
You nodded as he helped you in the passenger side door and buckled you in. "Okay."
He pulled out of the parking garage, glancing at you every few seconds. "All you're going to say is okay?"
You yawned wishing you could get undressed. "What do you want me to say, Bradley?"
He was quiet for a few blocks, but when he turned down your street, he let loose. "I want you to say something more than okay. I want you to fucking talk to me, alright? I feel like everything I'm doing right now is making you mad at me, and I hate that. I fucking hate it." He hit the brakes a little hard in the driveway, and now you were alert as you started crying.
"Fuck!" Bradley growled, hands gripping the steering wheel. "I'm sorry." He looked so upset right now, you didn't even know what to do as tears streamed down your cheeks. Then he was running across the driveway and helping you out of the Bronco and into the house, but the tears kept coming. And now your head was throbbing and you felt so sick.
"I just want to go to bed," you gasped. "Please," you begged as he kissed your forehead over and over again while Tramp jumped around.
"Of course," Bradley whispered, his lips meeting your face again before he knelt in front of you. He kissed your thighs through your khaki pants and helped you out of your boots, looking up at your face which you were sure looked like a wreck. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I yelled."
"It's okay," you managed as the room spun a little bit. "I just need to get in bed."
He carried you there, and it felt amazing to not have to walk. Then he set you on the bed and undressed you as he asked, "Do you want some water? A snack?"
You nodded and got under the covers, and said, "Yes, please," as you started to doze off. All you managed to do was eat a handful of trail mix and chug a glass of water before you passed out.
When you eventually woke up, you felt a little better, but when you rolled over, the other half of the bed was empty and cold. It was eight in the morning according to your phone. You'd just slept for over twelve hours, and Bradley was out playing golf now. The cool fabric of his pillow on your face felt so nice, you rolled over all the way. You must have a fever and the flu. You felt too hot, and your breasts were aching. So was your abdomen. Your period was probably about to start.
You frowned and looked at your phone again, opening the calendar app. It was Carole's birthday, but it was apparently also five weeks since you'd had your period. "Oh my god." You practically fell out of the bed, your legs tangling up in the sheets as you tried to get to your feet.
"Oh shit," you gasped, running for the bathroom. You didn't know what to do first, but your stomach won as you lunged for the toilet and threw up everything in your stomach. "Gross," you groaned as you flushed the toilet, but as soon as you tried to stand, more came up. Your heart was thudding in your chest as you forced yourself to be patient and let your stomach empty itself.
When you finally could, you got to your feet again, removing your glasses to rinse your mouth out and splash water on your face. Then you dried yourself and slid them back on. You eyed the linen closet next to the door in the mirror before turning around slowly. As you strode across the tile floor, Tramp came in to investigate, but you ignored him as you closed the distance to where you thought you might have one last pregnancy test hidden away.
You opened the narrow door and knelt down, and then you started throwing everything from the bottom shelves over your shoulders, frantically searching. You saw the box, and you tore it open. You already knew what to do, because you'd done it so many times before, but your hands were shaking as you removed the test and looked at it on your palm in the foil wrapper.
Tramp whimpered at you as you got to your feet again and made it to the toilet, this time pulling your underwear down as you went. When the wrapper fell away, you took the test, hands shaking as you set it on the edge of the sink vanity when you were done. Then you wiped as you started to panic. Three minutes. You needed to wait for three minutes.
Your phone was simply too far away as you started counting out loud, your voice echoing around your bathroom. It wasn't ready yet. You climbed into the empty bathtub, sitting and wrapping your arms around your knees. And you counted.
You closed your eyes, and you counted. You looked at Tramp, and you counted. You pressed your forehead to your knees, and you counted all the way until you reached one hundred and eighty.
"Three minutes," you whispered, your heart beating so hard, it was making you feel like you might need to throw up again. You climbed out of the tub onto unsteady legs and held your breath as you walked to the vanity. Very carefully, like it was the most precious thing you'd ever touched, you picked up the test. You checked the result before promptly dropping it to the floor.
------------------------
Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 27
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false god
PAIRING harry styles x reader
SUMMARY harry’s having trouble finding enough time to spend with y/n, even after she drops everything and joins him on tour. when they talk, they only seem to argue. when they don’t, they only seem to fuck.
WARNINGS she’s an angsty one— lots of miscommunication, poorly executed arguments, and general couple fighting content. BUT!! there is lots of really cute fluff at the end :> also, beware of smutty content such as soft!dom harry (my favorite), oral (f!receiving, implied m!receiving), unprotected p in v, a brief hesitation to get naked on y/n’s part, an even more brief mention of bondage play, harry leaves like one love bite, and tooth-rotting holding each other while having sex content. lmk if i missed anything!
WORD COUNT 5.5k
AUTHOR’S NOTE fun fact this was supposed to be done months ago and then literally everything that could have gotten in my way did just that. but she’s here now!! writing this was a challenge but i feel so good about it now that it’s complete and i can’t wait for you all to read it. please lmk you enjoyed by leaving feedback and/or reblogging!! special thanks to @cherryjuiceblues for beta reading for me <3 ily <3
LOVER SELECTION one-shots here.
copyright © sleepyhollands. all rights reserved. || my masterlist.
“harry, it doesn’t matter if—”
“it does to me!”
“hey, there are two people in this relationship, you know.”
“yeah, an‘ one of ’em feels like right shit on what’s meant to be the greatest tour of his life! doesn’t that mean anythin‘ to you?”
“of course it does, i just—”
“really? ’cause y’could’ve fooled me, love.”
“harry, i swear, if you interrupt me one more time, i’m booking the next flight home.”
… tour had been going really well for harry! he was playing back to back sold out shows in some of the biggest cities in the world, with adoring fans lining up by the thousands, itching to hear him sing live. he’d already had some really sweet interactions on stage, and no crazy mishaps had occurred (he was especially proud of himself for having ensured everyone’s safety so far). just in the last week alone, he’d been nominated for three different awards for his newest album and performances. anyone could see that he was living a dream— the dream, really. the kind that only comes true once in a blue moon.
and yet… tour had been going really poorly for harry. now, he doesn’t like to complain about much; he knows just how fortunate he is, and actively tries to see the bigger picture when frustrated. but it was really hard to zoom out of his particular situation when he was so zeroed in on a particular aspect that had been bugging him for weeks— y/n.
don’t get him wrong! y/n herself wasn’t what was bothering him. it was more so her presence, and his… lack thereof.
if there’s one thing harry prides himself on more than anything, it’s being an attentive lover— even in the most innocent and platonic of ways. he tries his absolute hardest to be a supportive brother, a considerate son, a (hopefully) decent role model to those who look up to him, and especially a present, loving boyfriend. and for the most part, he’s just as successful in those aspects as he is in his career. in fact, y/n regularly speaks of how harry treats her like she hangs the stars in the sky just for him, how he makes her feel like the most special girl in the world.
but this tour was taking its toll, and harry was taking it out on y/n. he’s never been great at communicating everything in the most positive of ways— that’s where he turns to songwriting— and he’d let his emotions get the better of him after letting them build up for the past couple of weeks. he wasn’t proud of himself, but he needed an outlet.
harry didn’t mean to start the fight. but when y/n asked him where he’d been after a last minute management meeting following that night’s show kept him an extra half hour later than he said he’d be, it was like all the frustration just erupted. inadequacy is one of his least favorite feelings (next to loneliness), and being a barely-there or only-sometimes-there boyfriend couldn’t be more of a trigger for that particular emotion.
now here they were, vexation filling the tour bus around them like a fog they could barely see through, inhaling it with every breath and releasing it back into the atmosphere surrounding them. harry huffed out a sigh, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he angrily looked out the window of the tour bus to distract himself for a moment, having to mentally step away from the argument at hand, even if just for a few seconds. watching as the dark streets outside shined with the headlights of other vehicles, he found himself wishing he were in one of them. it would be nice to be in a car alone, nothing but his thoughts and some music to keep him company.
but he had real company. she was standing not six feet away from him, emulating his defensive position with her arms drawn across her own chest, jaw clenching and relaxing every other moment. when he finally turned to look at her again, he exhaled loudly.
“we were crazy to think that this could work,” he mumbled, barely audible to y/n, but she was able to make it out.
even when they fought, the girl seemed to be in sync with him, inhaling deeply, subconsciously countering his previous expulsion of breath. the yin to his yang.
“what are you talking about?”
harry groaned at her words. how didn’t she get this? “y/n, i’m never around! i wake up when you’re still asleep, prepare for the day, go to the venue, help set up the stage, sound check, rehearse a bit, and then ’m off t’go get ready for a show that lasts two hours. almost each night! i come back exhausted and aching to sleep! where d’you see yourself fitting in there?”
when y/n realized it was her turn to speak again, she said, “first off, do you think you could please calm down a little? i can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
his eyes narrowed. “like what?”
“when you’re acting like a child, harry! i mean, for god’s sake, i’m not nine! i can handle hanging out on my own for a few days at a time and just getting to cuddle with you at night until you have a day off. it’s not like i don’t have things to do throughout the day, too.”
while harry tended to say things he didn’t exactly believe in the heat of the moment, y/n meant every word she uttered. she really was content relaxing in the tour bus or a hotel room taking care of work on her laptop, catching up on new episodes of her favorite shows, or even going out to explore whatever new city they were in by herself. harry had breaks between show days once or twice a week, and the thought of having those days to themselves was enough to sate her desire to spend time with him. it annoyed her that he didn’t understand that, as she’d never been the clingy type and was always very self-sufficient.
“oh, i’m acting like a child, am i? right, i didn’t realize that wanting t’be present in my relationship with my girlfriend was childish, but hey, you learn something new every day, i s’pose.”
oh, y/n was really starting to seethe now. letting her arms fall to her sides with a frustrated puff, she began again.
“god, harry, you’re not childish for wanting to spend time together! i’m saying you need to realize that i’m perfectly capable of waiting for your days off to really spend time with you. you’re acting like we can’t function without each other!”
“the whole idea of you comin‘ on tour with me was to have this time together, y/n,” harry fired back. “if we’re barely going to get to see each other anyways, then what’s the bloody point?”
…
harry might have spoken too soon. at least, that’s what he thought as he laid overtop y/n on the tour bus couch, because now the point might very well be getting to just feel her lips on his every now and again.
it was late; harry had just come back from a show. usually, he’s too tired to do anything but crash onto a cloud-like mattress after all the jumping around he does on that stage, but this time all he wanted was his girl. it’d started innocently enough, with harry pulling y/n into his lap on the worn, red leather of the couch. his hands roamed along her hips and down to her waist beneath her soft hoodie (which wasn’t even technically her’s, but is it really theft if harry just leaves his clothes lying around for her to nab?), exploring the soft expanse of her skin, not straying any lower. her own hands were hidden in his curls, lightly scratching at his scalp in what she hoped were soothing motions.
harry knew he was done for once he initiated the kiss. tentative at first, he pressed light pecks along the corner of her mouth, quick and feathery, like he didn’t really care if he got to kiss her so much as he got to hold her, or simply be with her. but soon, the eagerness set in, like he wasn’t sure when the next time he’d get to have her was, and suddenly he was capturing her mouth with his own, barely giving her a chance to breathe as he tasted her. while harry never really believed in a higher power, he could have sworn he found religion in her lips.
things only escalated from there. it wasn’t long before harry was wrapping his muscular arms around y/n, so tight that he accidentally squeezed too hard, earning a squeak from the girl. he muttered a hushed but sincere “’m sorry, darling,” to compensate. one hand supported her head, the other splayed across her back as he laid her against the cushions so that he could keep loving on her on the way down. he relished her little whimpers that she tried so hard to suppress, grinning against her jawbone, her neck, any skin he came across on his journey south to more pressing territory.
harry didn’t bother removing y/n’s hoodie, opting instead to push it up past her naval in favor of gaining access to the waistband of her fluffy sleep shorts. he felt her hands tighten their grip ever so slightly on his shoulders as he hooked his fingers under it, relaxing again when he rubbed the pad of his thumb delicately along her hipbone, reminding her it was only him.
it was a thing with y/n. she loved harry, of course she did, and she trusted him more than anyone. and maybe it was the way she was brought up, or perhaps a few poor experiences with sexual partners in the past, but there was always a fleeting moment of anxiety before shedding the clothing barrier before sex. like dipping a toe into a cold lake and hesitating a little, then ultimately deciding that jumping in wouldn’t be so bad.
harry never pried. the first few times they’d slept together, he noticed her nerves, and asked her if she was sure she wanted to continue. y/n had said yes each time, and after a while, he stopped asking. but still, whenever he noticed that brief nervous shift, harry gave her a chance to change her mind.
this time, he bided his time by sponging tender kisses right above where his fingers were still half hidden under her shorts. he wanted her to feel safe, and taken care of, and he hoped his gentle touches and even breathing could remedy her anxiety. as he waited, harry’s mind drifted…. he was getting lost in the feel of her soft skin, its dips and curves and blemishes. he thought about her waist, how his hands fit so perfectly against its sides; her tummy, and how the muscles there jolted when he tickled them; and her hips… god, if y/n’s body was a church, her hips could be the altar. harry was ready to say a prayer right then, thanking every higher power for blessing him with this gorgeous girl—
“harry?” his love’s melodic voice interrupted his thoughts, and harry’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, his nose continuing to skim just above her navel. “um… you can keep going. please.”
the corner of harry’s mouth quirked upward, and y/n could have sworn she caught a glimpse of mischief in the jade of his irises, but it was gone in an instant, as he wasted no time in stripping her of her bottoms.
…
“god, h-harry,” panted y/n, her grip on his curls constricting with every lick to her core, “’s so good, oh—”
“would feel even better if y’stopped trying t’run away from me, wouldn’t it? don’t wanna have to tie you down.”
y/n couldn’t help it! it wasn’t her fault if harry’s tongue was just too good and her body’s natural reaction was to attempt to escape his grip for a little relief. if anything, he should be happy— they’d been at this for so long y/n lost count of the minutes, and after two toe-curling orgasms, one would think harry’s jaw could use a break.
but that thought flew out the window when y/n remembered who she was metaphorically in bed with.
“’m sorry…,” she whimpered, gripping the side of the couch cushion as her eyes squeezed shut.
“don‘ have to be sorry, darling,” harry mumbled against her folds, chin glistening with her arousal as he placed a soft kiss to y/n’s clit, making her jolt in his hold. he breathed a short laugh, adjusting his arms so that one held her upper thigh next to his head, while the other pinned her hips to the red leather, restricting her ability to move. “jus’ wanna make you feel as good as possible, is all. will y’let me?”
harry turned his head, nipping at the inside of the girl’s thigh, and she gasped at the brief assault on the softest skin of her body, now adorning the mark of his front teeth that she loved so much. she shuddered a breath as best she could, and harry could tell by the way her knuckles were turning white in their grip on the couch that she was trying her best to be good. feeling a twinge of guilt, he figured maybe he should offer her a second to breathe. y/n opened her eyes when she felt harry’s lips retreat from her aching cunt and the weight of his head rest against the love bite.
“hey.”
y/n cast her gaze down upon the boy (who looked far too innocent, considering what they were doing) with his cheek laid on her inner thigh, stray hairs tickling her just a tad. playfulness swam in his eyes, but there was an underlying current of concern.
“doin‘ okay?”
she nodded, gulping. harry noticed.
“because we can take a break if you want to. just say the word, okay?”
“i will, i-i promise. but… can you please keep going?”
that was all he needed to get right back into it, only with even more fervor than before. when y/n reached her third and final peak of the night, her whole body shook, and harry had the pleasure of getting to watch as he helped her ride out her high. he almost came in his pants, rutting his hips into the sofa, moaning against her core, begging her give it t’me, love, that’s it.
harry pulled back when she started pushing at his head, whining for relief as he gave one final lap at her core. he grinned at her fucked-out figure as he wiped his face on his forearm, then took her hand that had been grasping at the cushion in one of his, bringing the back of it to his lips for a gentle kiss.
“feel all right, baby?”
“mhm,” she hummed between heaving breaths, glancing at what she assumed could only be a quite painful stiffy between his legs as he sat up, “do you?”
harry followed her line of vision, offering her a chuckle and an i’m fine, using his free hand to smooth his thumb along her brow. before he could even register it, her palm slipped from the grip of his other hand and traveled down to rub against the bulge in his pants, earning a sharp hiss from her boyfriend and a deep groan soon after.
“why don’t you let me repay the favor?”
…
harry was pretty sure y/n was asleep. if she wasn’t, she was definitely on the verge— her breaths were deep and even as she laid in his hold, her head on his chest, ear pressed overtop his steadily beating heart. and who could blame her? the evening’s activities had worn her out, which meant harry had done his job properly. he was more than happy to be wide awake, running his fingertips up and down her arm, inhaling the sweet scent of her fruity body wash while she dreamt if it meant she was rested and content and happy.
moments like these made harry think they could get away with it. the long hours spent apart, the hectic schedules, the fighting. sure, it was tough, and yes, they both had a temper that rivaled one another’s for the ‘least amount of patience award’ on any given day. but every missing ounce of patience was compensated by double its weight in love. they loved one another enough to make it work.
they could make this work.
right?
…
“jesus, harry, how do you think that makes me feel? you’d honestly rather i not be here? are you actually that insecure?”
“c’mon, y/n, you know tha’s not what i meant.”
y/n felt like they were going around in circles, having the same fight over and over again. only this time, the couple found themselves in a beautiful hotel room, with a beautiful view overlooking a beautiful city. and instead of getting to enjoy it, y/n was glaring at harry though the vanity mirror, his back facing her as he tamed his wild curls for tonight’s show… which he had to leave for in just a few short minutes.
the balled up fist on y/n’s hip flew up to her face, fingers flexing to pinch at the bridge of her nose as her eyes squeezed shut for a moment.
“i can’t believe this. i dropped everything to be here with you— to support you on the most incredible tour of your career— and instead of being happy i’m here as opposed to the alternative of thousands of miles away in a different time zone for months, you’re sitting here bitching about being too tired?”
harry sighed deeply, only infuriating y/n more. “you’re missing the point. ’s not that i don’t want you here, or just that ’m too tired. ’s knowing you’re sitting around by yourself, waiting on me while ’m working, when you could be out with friends and family, or sleeping in the comfort of your own bed—”
“that you’re not in!” the girl loudly interjected— how didn’t he get this? “i put all those things aside for us, har. it’s not like i’m leaving my life behind for years. christ’s sake, the tour is over in two months! but somehow, being away from my home and routine is easier than being in the same room as you right now.”
harry contemplated his next words carefully, turning them over in his head a few times and editing any obvious mistakes, leaving the pair of them to marinate in suffocating silence for a good ten or so seconds before he finally spoke.
“y/n… i can’t be a good boyfriend and a serious artist simultaneously, okay? not while ’m on tour. i can’t keep losing sleep over how well i’m balancing—”
“okay, you know what, harry? you know what? maybe you should just leave me, then. wouldn’t that be easier? you’d be able to sleep better at night, right?”
they both knew she didn’t mean it, though harry couldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt to hear. but she was pissed, and harry knew better than to try to reason with her when she was like this.
when she realized he wasn’t going to respond, instead electing to stare brokenly into the mirror, she continued. “you know damn well how hard i work for this relationship. i’ve flown across the oceans that have separated us, driven for hours just to get to see you for, like, one— hell, i’ve skipped some of my most important classes so we could go to shitty dive bars in the middle of the day together! yeah, remember that? i love you, okay? people who love each other are supposed to be grateful for any time they have together at all, no matter if it’s every day or once a year.”
y/n took a breath, finally cooling down after her heated rant. she took a moment to take in the sight of her boyfriend, dressed so vibrantly, feeling anything but.
“they warned us about times like this,” the defeated tone of y/n’s whisper was enough to finally get harry to say something.
“what was that, love?”
the girl swallowed the little saliva in her mouth before speaking up a mere decibel. “remember what my parents said? ‘the road gets hard, and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith,’” she imitated her father’s deep voice, and if not for the circumstances, harry might’ve laughed.
they weren’t lost, were they?
…
if there was such a thing as heaven on earth, y/n is pretty sure she’s been there. in fact, she goes there whenever harry so much as touches her.
when he kisses her shin as they lay watching a movie together on the couch, pulling her leg up off his lap and craning his neck downward to meet it in the middle. when he runs his fingers down the bridge of her nose, making an exaggerated boop! noise once he reaches the tip, gently pressing against it like a doorbell. and especially when he has her like this.
harry’s arms felt secure wrapped around y/n’s torso, her hips moving back and forth atop his own. the feeling of his cock twitching and shifting inside her while her nipples rub deliciously along his chest made her dizzy, like she had just gotten off a loopy rollercoaster. harry’s back arched just slightly off the plush mattress of their hotel suite’s bed when y/n gave a little bounce, arms constricting around her and forcing a pleased sigh to fall from her lips.
the girl hid her face in the crook of his neck, and harry could feel each and every hot breath against his skin. lost in pleasure, he let his large hands migrate from her hips down to her bum, where he gave a small pinch to the flesh, eliciting a yelp and a small jolt from y/n.
“sorry, baby,” he laughed, “couldn’t help m’self.” harry gently flattened his palm against the now tender skin, rubbing there softly in an attempt to soothe the little ache he left. when he felt satisfied, he shifted to rubbing between her shoulder blades instead, his other arm still wrapped around her lower back as she returned to her previous rhythm above him.
y/n could tell harry was enjoying himself. his groans alone were evidence enough, not to mention the little utterances of “shit, darling,” and “so good t’me,” he frequently let slip. but perhaps he just needed a bit more to reach his high, because without warning his hands were on her thighs, gripping tightly as he began to thrust upwards into her at a much quicker pace than she had originally set— it had her seeing stars in a matter of mere seconds.
“oh, god— harry,” y/n gasped out, gripping the edge of the plush pillow by harry’s ear. she could feel him hitting that special spot inside her with every snap of his hips, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back into her head, muscles tightening all throughout her body.
“almost there, angel… just…,” harry’s thrusts began to slow, becoming more deliberate, and now he was moving her hips to grind against his each time they met, sending y/n over the edge.
y/n’s moans were long and drawn out as she came, body spasms making her hold on more tightly to harry for stability. she didn’t even hear him finish, too busy reveling in the euphoric feeling of cumming in his arms, surrounded by warmth and love and feeling the safest she had in a long while.
it was moments like these where y/n couldn’t fathom how she’s ever been upset with harry. he was perfect, lying here under her unsteady body, breathing deeply not only to catch his breath, but to take in the smell of her. she wanted this for eternity. and if this was heaven, then surely hell was when they fought with each other.
…
y/n thought she was dreaming at first, not used to being roused from her slumber by anything other than her well-timed alarm and the occasional bark of a dog on a nearby street. she expected that after blinking the sleep from her eyes a few times, the vague image of her favorite boy would dissipate, and she’d fall back into the comfort of her warm pillow. but when she squeezed them shut once, then twice, and her boyfriend’s face was still a foot away from her’s, brushing his fingertips up her nose and along her brow, she set aside her exhaustion in exchange for confusion.
now, harry knew better than to wake y/n up. in most circumstances, she’d tell him off, or gently kick at him to get him to leave her alone. he found it rather endearing, and it’s one of the reasons he’s so protective of her in her sleep— always holding her close to keep her safe, shielding her eyes from any light intruding on the space she lay, making sure both their phones were set to ‘do not disturb.’ but he had to make an exception, just this once.
“darling,” she barely registered his whisper, “wake up f’me, please?”
a whine fell from y/n’s lips, her eyes scrunching shut as she turned her body away from him, which harry knew was code for let me sleep, for fuck’s sake! a smile graced his lips at the action, jotting down a mental note to make this up to her later.
compensating for the newfound distance between them, harry scooted closer to her. he kneeled on the floor next to the bed, close to the pillows she rested upon. he laid one arm against the mattress, perching his chin on the back of his wrist. using his free hand, he continued to brush his fingertips lightly against his love’s cheek, her jaw— all along her face, really. god, her loves her face so much.
“please, baby?”
harry had just come back from one of his best performances yet— the crowd’s energy was unmatched, the chemistry between him and his band members was palpable, and he’d managed to not get hit with any flying objects all night! but what really did it for him was the fan project he was surprised with at the end of the show. thousands of people in the room wore light-up bracelets that shone pink and blue during one of his favorite songs, ‘love of my life.’ if harry’s heart had been any more full in that moment, it might’ve exploded right there in his chest.
he had been on cloud nine for a moment. but soon, realization washed over him in a way that squeezed at his lungs, stealing his breath for a second. the love of his life was somewhere miles away, probably sitting in their hotel room watching a comfort film, oblivious to anything he was feeling on that stage. he just wanted to go home to her and gush about what had happened, and how he wished she’d been there, and how it made so much sense that it would happen during ‘love of my life’ because it was the perfect representation of the amount of love he had for his, and how if she’d have been there, he would have looked directly at her and smiled the whole time.
it made him realize how bloody stupid he was.
in retrospect, the conversation he’d needlessly just woken y/n up for could have waited until morning. but then harry wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he didn’t tell her he was sorry right away.
a groan sounded through the room, followed by the ruffling of bedsheets as the girl turned back over to glare annoyedly at harry. he let out a soft laugh at her behavior.
“’m sorry, baby. know you jus‘ wanna sleep right now, but ’s it okay if we talk for a mo‘?”
“now?” y/n asked in a gravelly voice.
“now, m‘ love.”
with a soft sigh, she relented, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her knuckles. harry caught the motion, bringing his hands up to pull hers away from her face. he didn’t like when y/n did that, as she always managed to do it too roughly. instead, he held her smaller hands in his own, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her.
“what is it?” y/n asked through a yawn. harry looked at her for a moment— really looked at her— before responding.
“i’m sorry.”
it took her a moment to register his words. “for waking me up?”
harry laughed that dreamy laugh she loved so much, and it almost made up for the fact that she was up at twelve thirty in the morning. “no, y’little minx. not for that. well, yes, for that, but that’s not what i meant.”
“what are you sorry for, then?”
harry looked at her with an expression y/n couldn’t place. it look him a few beats to speak. “i… i’m sorry i was such a prick before. i love that you’re here, an‘ that i get t’see you when i’m off. know you put aside a lot for this, an‘ i ruined it with m’own problems. didn’t mean to.”
y/n’s features softened at the boy’s sincerity, and if it weren’t for the warmth his hands encapsulating hers provided, she’d have reached out and held his face, peppering kisses over every dip and curve.
“i know you didn’t…. i’m sorry, too.”
“for what?”
“i should’ve listened better. you were trying to tell me how you felt and i just disregarded it. that wasn’t very nice of me, either.”
the right corner of harry’s lips tugged upwards, morphing his mouth into that little half-grin y/n adored so much. “think we can get past it, darling?”
the girl scooted forward the tiniest bit, harry’s magnetic pull too hard to resist. though they were the only two in the room, she whispered, “i’ll forgive you if you forgive me.” harry liked how she made something so simple sound like a secret deal between them.
harry’s half-smile quickly quirked up, completing itself, and y/n swooned over his dimples and adorable bunny teeth. a short and quiet breath of a laugh fell past his lips, and for a moment, he just looked at her. but his gaze caught a glimpse of uncertainty in her eyes, and his grin faltered a bit.
y/n was always good at hiding her true emotions when she wanted to. not when it really mattered, don’t get her wrong— she wasn’t one to take anyone’s shit. but at dinner with her parents or meetings at work, she was able to pretend she wasn’t exhausted or annoyed. it never worked with harry, though. he could read and understand her like his own lyrics, and tonight was no exception. he saw through the mask of humor at her uncertainty, and a pang of guilt bloomed in his chest.
he let out a sigh as he beckoned her forward by gently tugging her hands, still in his, toward him. “c’mere, baby,” he said softly, pulling his love into his lap. y/n curled into him, knees tucked upward into her chest as his strong arms found purchase around her frame, holding her tenderly but securely. one of harry’s large hands held the back of her head against him, her ear right over his heart, listening to it beat for her.
“love you like crazy. you’ve no idea.” he peppered light kisses to the top of her head, so softly she might’ve missed one or two. “thank you for comin‘ an‘ s’porting me. means the world, honestly.”
“i’m happy to be anywhere with you, har,” she replied in a voice honey-thick with sleep. “even if it’s just for a few minutes. always so happy to have you.”
harry closed his eyes, laying back into the pillows, bringing y/n down with him so that she was laying overtop his sturdy body, inhaling his every exhale.
“you have me,” he said, though he was almost certain she didn’t hear him, likely already pulled into the void of sleep, drawn in by the comfort of harry’s arms, his smell, him.
“you’ll always have me.”
taglist (final time using the old one, see new link in bio): @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy
#harry styles#harry styles smut#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#harry styles x reader#harry styles x reader smut#harry styles x reader angst#harry styles x reader fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x you smut#harry styles x you angst#harry styles x you fluff#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x y/n smut#harry styles x y/n angst#harry styles x y/n fluff#harry styles one shot#harry styles one shot smut#harry styles one shot angst#harry styles one shot fluff#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfiction smut#harry styles fanfiction angst#harry styles fanfiction fluff#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfic smut#harry styles fanfic angst#harry styles fanfic fluff#soft!dom harry styles#dom!harry styles x reader
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Hey hey :) I absolutely love your writing I can't stop myself from reading and rereading them over and over again!
I don't know if you're taking any requests, but if you are could you write about seventeen being softdoms. Like them being all manly + all soft for their s/o. Masculine without the toxicity lol
If not you can just ignore this ask 🥰
author's note | ah we love us a softdom seventeen 😍 i decided to split it up to sfw and nsfw, hope you don't mind <3
also, my inbox is open again, so if you guys have any requests or asks feel free to write me!
soft dom seventeen | ot13
SFW
The type to spoil the living shit out of you, because you deserve all the best things in the world (one word from you and the next day you’ll get whatever you mentioned). Also, may be a bit overprotective, but it’s just because he doesn’t want you to get hurt. He makes it his life mission to keep you safe at all times, so he will fight anyone who dares to make you uncomfortable. Even when he’s angry or having a fight with someone, the second you enter the room, he’s all like “hi baby ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶”:
➼ Seungcheol, Mingyu, Chan, Wonwoo
A complete gentleman who will do anything to make you feel like a princess. No matter how bad of a day he’s having, one look from you and he’s all smiley and happy again. His heart eyes are reserved for you and you only and he will not hesitate to use them in his favour. Protective, but not in an overbearing way. He’ll just shoot the stranger one look and they’ll know that it’s better to not make you uncomfortable. Bonus: he gives the softest kisses in the world (they make you melt on the spot):
➼ Joshua, Dokyeom, Jun, Seungkwan, Vernon
He knows how weak you are for him and he will use that to his advantage. A lot. He just loves messing with you and seeing you all flustered because of him (don’t worry, he makes it up with a lot of kisses). He’ll do anything you ask him for - there is nothing more important to him than your happiness. So you can say that he’s weak for you as well??? He’s a certified simp, what can I say. Also buys you flowers out of nowhere and gets you your favourite candy just because he can:
➼ Minghao, Jeonghan, Woozi, Soonyoung
NSFW
Will be destroying you with his cock, while telling you how pretty you look. One second, the most sinful words are escaping his mouth, mocking you how weak of a slut you are for him and the second he’s giving you gentle kisses on your neck, soothing his previous made hickies. BUT, turns into a completely different person when he’s finally satisfied with how many times he’d made you cum. The aftercare is top tier and he turns into the softest and gentlest being:
➼ Seungcheol, Mingyu, Chan, Wonwoo, Woozi
Treats you like you are made of porcelain, while still fucking you nice and deep, hitting all of the right places. Most likely will make you come with his mouth or fingers a couple of times, before he slams his cock into you, making you see stars. Repeats how pretty you are and how good of a job you’re doing, while sucking your nipples and circling your clit with his thumb. He swears he lives for your moans and the way you push your hips against his face when he’s eating you out:
➼ Joshua, Dokyeom, Seungkwan, Jun
Teases the shit out of you, before he even pulls out his dick from his briefs (which at this point you’re practically begging him to fuck you). Will make you say exactly what you want him to do to you, every single sinful thought that you’re having or else he’s just going to leave you hot and horny. But, when he’s satisfied with how wet and needy you are, he’s ramming his cock into you in no time. The touch of his fingertips is feather like, his lips slowly outlining the shape of your body, while his cock is fucking you dumb:
➼ Soonyoung, Vernon, Minghao, Jeonghan
taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm
#seventeen imagines#seventeen x you#svt reactions#seventeen reactions#seventeen carat#seventeen#seventeen fluff#seventeen kpop#seventeen x reader#svt fluff#seventeen scenarios#seventeen reaction#seventeen smut#svtdaily#svt#svt x reader#seventeen x y/n#seungcheol smut#seungcheol fluff#jeonghan fluff#jeonghan smut#mingyu smut#wonwoo smut#wonwoo fluff#joshua smut#joshua fluff#hoshi smut#dk smut#minghao smut#minghao fluff
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deal - cl16 (18/?)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.
Chapter Summary: Canned soup always works wonders.
Warnings: cliffhanger (whoopsie), angst (duh), Lando is a cutie, swear words
Word Count: 3.6k
series masterlist
previous part
A/N: not 10k words, but I did my absolute best. thanks for always having my back. I love you.
"Fuck!" You cross your arms in front of your face and exhale deeply. "FUCK!"
How hard can it be to find an apartment in the south of France? An apartment that has a shower, a bed, and a stove top? A window would be ideal, too, but you have to cut back somewhere, after all. But even a single room in a shared apartment costs almost 2,000€ - how much do you have to pay for an apartment where your privacy is not disturbed?
Although that didn't bother you much in this apartment either. After all, you even shared the only bed with Charles. Voluntarily. The longer you think about it, the worse your headache gets.
After slamming the door in his face yesterday and then wallowing in your misery for hours, you decided to tackle the apartment hunt this morning. You don't want to spend a second longer than necessary in these four walls, which is why you briefly considered asking Kika if you could move in with her and Pierre at short notice and only for a short period of time.
But then you would also have to explain what happened. And since both of them are Charles' friends first and foremost, you don't want to get in the way, even though he's been acting like a huge asshole.
Meanwhile, you're neither sad nor angry - you're just disappointed.
Of him, because he's gone to so much lengths in the last few days to make you feel at home in his company and presence. He showed you the place that is most important to him, told you about his father and showed you his vulnerable side. He has indirectly supported you financially by getting Joris to pay you back and waiving the accruing rent. By God, he even took you to dinner with his friends so you could meet them because he thought "you'd fit in quite well."
And then he ditches you, showing his coldest, rudest, nastiest side by using what your last relationship failed at against you.
But you are even more disappointed in yourself. There has been absolutely no reason why you should trust Charles so much after such a short time. You told him about Raphael, that he left you because you wouldn't sleep with him, and that he cheated on you. You took his compliments without even a thought as to whether he meant them. You had even had a fucking - hot - sex dream with him.
You trusted him blindly. And that's getting back at you now.
Lounging lazily on the couch and looking at apartments that are definitely beyond your budget isn't an approach to making you feel better either, so you decide to pack your suitcase already.
If you can't find a place to stay in a hurry, you'd move to a hotel first. Or a hostel. You wouldn't have any privacy there, but at least they are so cheap that you could stay there longer and thus have more time to look for something reasonable.
And anything is better than staying here.
You open the suitcase you've kept in the closet for months, spread it out on the bed, and start putting your clothes in it. Sweaters, jeans, gym clothes, underwear - the stuff you don't want to leave home without. When it's filled and locked, you put it next to the door of your room. But only to realize that your whole life doesn't fit into one suitcase.
You put your hands on your hips.
You still have a few days before Charles returns. Theoretically, you would still have enough time to get another suitcase, because you haven't packed your shoes or bathroom utensils yet. And you can only fit a few things into your gym bag.
A ping sounds from the living room, and as you poke your head into the room, you see your cell phone light up on the coffee table. You pick it up to read the message.
Lando: Hi. I wanted to check in and see if you're feeling a little better today. Been worried about you all night.
You're chewing on the inside of your cheek.
Yesterday at noon you sent a message to Lando saying that you were feeling unwell and so unfortunately you couldn't go out with him. Aside from the fact that your eyes were swollen from crying and no ice cube in the world could have helped you with that, it didn't feel right to have dinner with him.
Charles had thrown it at you that Lando only wanted to go out with you to get you into bed. How much truth there was to that, you don't know. After all, Charles said some things that hurt you. But whether you can take them at face value is another matter.
Charles has known the Brit for much longer and, above all, better than you. And the way he has courted and flirted with you since you first met, there may be some truth in Charles' words.
But even if there were, Charles has no right to judge. To judge how you handle the matter, whether you like going out with Lando or not. And if you were to go out with him, it could be on a purely friendly basis. Maybe you would have dated and immediately realized that you would be better off as friends.
But you can't find that out now without worry. Now that Charles has hurt you so much and pushed you away. His words are burned into your mind, which is why you answer Lando carefully.
You: I'm feeling better already, thank you. I'm sorry I had to cancel our dinner.
His reply comes immediately.
Lando: You don't need to apologize. I'm just relieved that you're feeling better. Have you eaten anything today?
As if on cue, your stomach is growling. Yesterday your mood was so low that you lost your appetite and, apart from a few cornflakes, you couldn't choke down anything. And that's exactly what you answer him.
Lando: All right. Give me half an hour and then I'll be with you, okay?
Indecisive, you type a reply, delete it, and start again. Does it make sense to let Lando into the apartment while you're in the process of packing your bags? If that's exactly what Charles was addressing?
Charles can go to hell.
You merely give Lando a thumbs-up in response before putting your phone aside and going to the bathroom to get ready for a bit. You may not care how you look right now, but you still don't want Lando to think the worst of you. You comb your hair, wash your face, and slip into more appropriate clothes than your sleeping clothes before cleaning up the living room a bit.
When the doorbell rings, you flinch.
You open the apartment door and a smiling Lando stands in front of it. He is wearing a black sweater with a zipper on the collar and black sweatpants. In his hand he holds a white bag.
"I didn't know which canned soup was your favorite. And that's why," he raises the bag next to his face, "I brought a selection." Grinning, he pushes past you and enters.
You close the door behind him. "You didn't have to do that."
As if it were a matter of course and as if he were here every day, he takes off his white sneakers and heads toward the kitchen, which of course he finds immediately because of the size of the apartment, and takes the cans out of the bag. "I know," he replies to you, setting the soups side by side before turning to you and resting his hands behind him on the edge of the counter. "But I'm someone who cares about his friends when they're miserable. So," he rubs his hands together. "which soup do you want to try first?"
The selection the Brit brought with him is limited to chicken, beef or vegetables, with the picture on the can of the former looking the most appealing. While he heats the soup in a small pot on the stove, you sit at the dining table and watch him.
"May I ask why you weren't feeling well yesterday?" he asks, wooden spoon in hand, stirring the soup.
Indecisively, you look at him.
Lando is Charles' friend. And you don't want to tell him about how Charles treated you yesterday any more than you want to tell Kika or Pierre. Because even though he hurt you so much, you don't want his friends to think badly of him.
Lando hands you a bowl of soup before sitting down across from you in the seat that actually belongs to Charles. An image flashes before your eyes of you eating croissants for breakfast with your roommate. Sitting across from each other, eating pasta, even though you've only known each other for half an hour.
You barely noticeably shake your head to get rid of the image. A movement that Lando takes as an answer to his question.
"Okay. But if you need to talk to someone, I'm here for you."
You smile at him. It's the exact same phrase Charles said to you in the most beautiful place in Monaco when you were feeling so bad about Raphael's call. It feels like a lifetime ago.
"Thank you," you reply to Lando. "I really appreciate that."
As you comfortably spoon up your soup in a slightly better mood, the Brit tells you about his plans for the coming Christmas. He wants to fly back to England to be with his parents and siblings. He shows you pictures of his niece Mila, who steals the show in every photo, but you can't blame her with the chubby cheeks.
"I can't wait to see everyone again," Lando says as he puts his phone in his back pocket. "Are you spending Christmas with your family, too?"
You shake your head. "Nope, I'm staying here."
Lando looks at you, confused. "Alone? What about Charles? He'd take you to see his family for sure."
He would. In fact, he offered when the two of you sat at Jori's dinner table a few days ago. You remember how the two of them joked around, even though Charles had been busting his best friend's chops just minutes before. You thought that you wouldn't do anything that would risk that friendship.
A thought you had often.
"Where is he, anyway?" asks Lando, stretching to be able to see the rest of the apartment from where he's sitting, which isn't difficult when the apartment itself isn't particularly much bigger than a shoebox.
You look into the empty bowl you're clutching tightly. "He has meetings in Italy," you reply curtly, setting it on the table in front of you before pulling your knees up to your chest.
Your friend raises an eyebrow. "Are you going there too?" As you shake your head in confusion, he points to a spot behind you with a nod of his head. "I'm just asking because there's a suitcase there."
As you turn around, you immediately realize what Lando means. You've left the bedroom door open, and from where he's sitting, he has a perfect view of the doorstep. Right to where your suitcase is.
"It's not for that," you reply.
"What for then?"
You stand up to stall some time, and to avoid looking Lando in the eye. You rinse the bowl slowly, hoping you'll think of another good excuse to give him. But you don't want to lie to him either. After all, Lando doesn't deserve that.
And that's why you don't say anything as you reach for the kitchen towel to dry the bowl. You rub over each spot at least three times, and even though it's already completely dry, you keep wiping over it.
When you suddenly feel a warm hand on your shoulder, you wince.
"What did he do?" Lando's voice is calm and gentle as he takes the bowl and cloth from your hand and sets both down on the countertop.
"Nothing," you reply curtly, and are about to grab a glass from the cabinet when his large hand clasps yours and stops you in your tracks.
"Come on, Y/N." Lando pulls lightly on your hand to make you turn in his direction. You keep your head lowered, however.
If you were looking at him right now - you just can't lie to him.
"I know Charles," he says softly, before placing his index finger under your chin and lifting it to make you look at him. When you look into his worried blue eyes, you've lost the fight. "What did he do?"
You can't stop the tears that gather in the corners of your eyes. Nor can you stop them from rolling down your cheeks as you try to blink them away. Lando thinking badly of his monegasque friend is the last thing you want.
But if you move away from here, you certainly won't see Lando again either. And then, theoretically, you may as well not care what he thinks of his friend. And after all, it's not like Charles didn't deserve it, the way he treated you. Charles brought it on himself.
You tell Lando everything.
You start with the fact that Raphael cheated on you and dumped you. That you lost your job a few days ago and Charles was suddenly standing in your - his - apartment. You tell him about your agreement to share the apartment because he still lets his ex-girlfriend live in his first apartment and that after four days he grew so close to your heart that it made you dizzy.
You tell him about Raphael waiting for you in front of the apartment on the day of the dinner with your friends, and that's why you had to spend the night at Kika's, and that Charles called you in a panic and after that you shared the bed for the first time. How you were so unsure about your feelings, because Charles is Charles, and that he had you completely wrapped around his little finger, even though you've only known each other for a few days.
You tell him about yesterday morning. What he threw at you, even though he knew exactly how much it would hurt you. How he talked about his own friend to make you feel even more insecure. And you tell him that you told Charles that you were going to move out.
Lando stays silent the whole time, but doesn't take his eyes off you. His eyes follow every tear that drips from your chin onto your sweater, and in between he gently squeezes your hand as a sign that he's following your story.
When you fall silent, he says nothing at first, but pulls you toward the living room, where he places you both on the couch. You worry that you've told him too much, gone a giant step too far, but it all just poured out of you and you couldn't stop the torrent of words.
But Lando doesn't seem to be angry with you. Quite the opposite. His gaze seems softer as you look at him. "I'd like to offer you the guest room in my apartment," he finally says. "But I don't think you'd accept the offer."
You tighten your mouth into a thin line. "I think it would be best if I just moved away. There's nothing keeping me here. No job, no responsibilities. I can go anywhere." You wrench your arms in the air. "Maybe I'll get a job in the United States. Or in Australia. Just really far away from here."
"That would be a possibility, of course," Lando replies. "But that can't be what you really want, can it?"
Puzzled, you tilt your head. "Why not?"
Lando leans against the back of the sofa. "You could have moved away when you were fired. Or when Raphael dumped you. But you stayed."
You shrug helplessly. "But now I have a reason to leave."
"Do you?" he asks.
"Obviously."
"Then why didn't you tell me everything yesterday? Or when I was just outside your door? Or warming up your soup?" he counters. You don't like the direction this conversation is taking. "You could have told me all about it right away. But you didn't, because you didn't want me to think badly of Charles."
You shrug, trying to express your indifference towards your still-roommate. But Lando isn't buying it. Not one bit of it.
"Come on, Y/N. You can't tell me you don't care about him at all. If you did, you wouldn't be so upset by all this that you'd want to leave the country. And then you wouldn't have tried to protect him in the first place."
You hate that he's right.
"I didn't realize you were so emotionally mature," you reply to him, slightly flippantly, and no sooner have you said it than you're sorry. "Sorry. You're not the person I'm mad at." You pucker your mouth into a thin line. "Are you mad at him? At Charles?"
Lando shrugs. "I'm not thrilled, of course, that a friend of mine would talk about me that way. Especially since he knows none of it is true," he explains. "Charles is good at pushing people away who mean something to him. I just don't know if he's doing it to protect the person or himself."
"Definitely himself." You shake your head. "You don't do something like that to protect someone! That's complete bullshit!"
"Are you sure about that?" Lando rubs his palm over his cheek. "Weren't you planning on sleeping on the couch and breaking your deal?"
You raise your index finger. "Nuh-uh. That was to protect myself."
"So you haven't been telling yourself the last few days that a friendship between you is better? After all, your ex cheated on you and left you because you wouldn't sleep with him. You got fired, Y/N. Your emotional baggage is higher than the Eiffel Tower." He puts a hand on your shoulder. "You know I don't mean that in a bad way, or to hurt you. But I'm sure you're trying to protect not only your heart, but Charles' heart as well."
You feel tears welling up in your eyes again. But this time you don't even try to stop them. "He deserves someone better. Someone who won't lie to him. Someone who doesn't carry around so much baggage." You shake your head slightly and wrinkle your nose. "He deserves someone great."
Lando's hand moves from your shoulder down their arm until he can intertwine his fingers with yours. He squeezes them gently. "I know someone who's been hurt so much, but still sees the good in people." He smiles at you. "I don't know anyone more great than you."
Lando stays with you for the rest of the evening, trying to distract you, which he clearly succeeds at with the miserable rounds of Uno in which he cheated at least twelve times. As you part with a tight, friendly hug, he presses a kiss to your cheek.
"You're still allowed to be mad at Charles. What he did is absolute bullshit," he says as he slips on his shoes. "But wait a little while before you move out. Maybe he'll come crawling back and apologize. Besides, for selfish reasons, I don't want you to move to the United States. Or Australia. Or anywhere else." He gives you one last squeeze. "If you need anything, call me. I'll be right over."
"I know," you smile, "and thanks again for the soups."
He raises his index and middle fingers to his temple, a joking goodbye. "You're always welcome. See you around. Here in Monaco."
You close the door behind him and actually feel a lot better. Lando's presence was comforting and warm, and he's someone you definitely wouldn't want to miss as a friend.
After brushing your teeth and combing your hair, you settle into bed. Your suitcase is still at your bedroom door, but the decision to move out isn't as set in stone as it was just a few hours ago. Perhaps you would look for a hotel for the time being to gain some distance. And then seek a conversation with Charles to have his behavior explained to you.
Friends don't treat each other like that. And he's definitely going to have some work to do to straighten that out. But there needs to be distance between you to make it work, which is why you're looking for hotels in the area to check into tomorrow.
A violent knock on the front door startles you. It's the middle of the night and you're not expecting anyone, so you carefully tiptoe towards the door. Maybe it's Lando, who left the rest of his soups here, or maybe he left his cell phone and can't call you to let you know he's coming by. Or maybe it's just a neighbor who got the wrong door.
It could have been all of these possibilities. But it's none of them when you open the door.
And you immediately regret that you didn't move out yesterday.
next part
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc prompt#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc imagine#lando norris#carlos sainz jr#charles leclerc fanfic#formula one#charles leclerc fanfiction#f1 edit#charles leclerc cute#charles leclerc x yn#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x female reader#Charles Leclerc fluff#Charles Leclerc angst#f1 smut#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic
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[Task force 141 + others with Gen z!reader] [pt3]
A/N: Some of these you /may/ have seen on tiktok, that is me who posted them on tiktok. I am green haired bitch so no I didn't steal anything LMAO. I hope these live up to yalls expectations.
The last two of these my lovely friend gave me inspiration for <3 @frogchiro
Warnings: She/her pronouns swearing, age gaps, tiktok memes (like always lmk if I miss something!)
~
You steal Prices hat on numerous occasions bc its a fashion abomination and you refuse to let this man wear it around you. You hide around base as frequently as you can.
Jokes on you though bc he will literally wait til it's your birthday and buy you a matching one and will laugh at your scream of disgust.
Gaz one ups him by gifting you a matching hat as well, putting it on your head as he flicks the brim.
"Thanks Gaz! I love it!
"And not mine?"
"You're on thin ice, old man."
Price gets gifted a set from manscaped by the guys as a gag gift. He uses it for his beard bc he never bothered to look into why everyone was laughing around him.
Price takes your phone when you try and show him memes, squinting hard as fuck like a dad 💀
Soap, if yall have the time off takes you to scottish football games and it's a whole thing. You sitting there while he gets drunk out of his fucking mind, hollering and whooping and you're there trying to sink into your seat.
Chances are someone's gonna shove you and you're gonna trip and fall bc everyone's so amped up and Soap threatens to beat the shit out of them. It's a miracle y'all don't get kicked out 💀
If you have tattoos, Soap is the first one to take a marker set and color them in and adding his own additions. If you were ever to get them actually tattooed, he would tear up and pretend he isn't emotional about it.
"You like me that much Bonnie?"
He would get something of you too, so it evens out. This also makes Ghost in turn get a tattoo for you bc he refuses to be out done and he's just as attached
Neither of them get your call sign or your name, but they get something personal to what each of them associate you with.
The first time you meet Alex, you're across the room doing something that has your focus and didn't realize this is actually your first time meeting him. You ask him for a hand only to look up and see him extend his prosthetic at you with a smile and you scream.
"You asked for a hand but best I can do is a Leg." Price comes running and he sees the scene and rolls his eyes.
Everyone single one of them are the definition of "my girl can wear whatever she wants bc I'll break your jaw." meme btw. You can take care of yourself but you never need to bc they will beat a bitch up.
Laswell invites you constantly to come over and meet with her wife, esp if you don't have a mother figure. She always always tries to come on base to see you and always has a birthday and Christmas present on it's way to you wherever you may be. Her wife loves you to death and they've pretty much adopted you and you cannot escape it, oh well.
Gaz buys you whatever your little heart desires, especially if he's deployed away in a country where they sell exclusives of whatever you enjoy. It's a pain in the fucking ass to try and ship a anime figure to your place from Japan but he's gonna try his best.
Ghost doesn't share his food, or at least it was before you came along. He groans and grumbles about having to feed you but he wouldn't do it if he truly didn't want to. Soap asks and Ghost tells him to fuck off.
If you watch anime, please imagine trying to get everyone in the room and trying to explain who Dabi is. They're all so fucking old they keep thinking you're referring to the elf from Harry Potter and it infuriates you to no end.
Soap and Gaz know better but it's funnier to see you mad.
Being the youngest, they absolutely force you to do the jobs they don't want to. Whether it be cleaning the barracks, to cooking dinner when able, it doesn't matter bc they'll all pull rank on you.
"You're the new kid, get to it then."
"Ghosttttt-"
"Don't Ghost me."
Soap is the kind of motherfucker to play the fifa games and doesn't understand that he's stupid for buying it every single year bc there are no changes oncesoever. He will not listen to you about it and you've given up.
Ghost will see you talk about your etsy list and will ask for your phone, you trust him so of course you hand it over. He hands it back to you and it's just, all purchased. He says nothing while he sips on his tea while you scream at him asking why he did it. He won't tell you but it's because he knows it makes you happy and it'll keep your mood up, giving you a reason to be motivated to get through missions. It's also because he knows that retail therapy is a thing for your generation.
Soap, if you do any, is actually really good at doing your makeup! He knows how to do everything and he refuses to elaborate. (As a kid he'd do his mom's makeup when she went out for dates) he's the one who helps you doll up if you're going undercover.
Ghost, Gaz and Price find you unfunny whenever you make a "wow I wish British people were real." You say it so often and it gets annoying but they also just accept it's a part of life.
Soap personally enjoys the "SCOTLAND FOREVERRRRRRR" meme and will scream it with you. Ghost threatens to cut yalls tongue out.
Other parts can be found under #Kayla writes <3
Taglist:
@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess
@stupid-ninja @milkmily
@lune-la-chanson @tamayakii
@teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel
@perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains
@marsbar127xx @baddump
@xncasi @king-cookiex
@palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky @wolfyland07 @diejager
@hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom
If you'd like to be tagged, go to my pinned post and comment there :)
#ghost <3#soap <3#price <3#gaz <3#call of duty#call of duty x reader#ghost x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#price x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#john price x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gen z! headcanons#kayla writes <3#laswell <3#fem reader
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𝑴𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝑶'𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝑺𝒆𝒙-𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
♡︎ 𝐂𝐖: 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝/𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠
Loooong tongue
Makes effective use of it too
Likes to roughly (tongue) fuck you
He likes the way it makes you bounce
Speaking of bouncing
PLEASE sit on his face
Suffocate him
Gets pussy drunk really easily
Use a more firm/controlling hand when you ride him (face or dick) and you'd swear you see hearts in his eyes
Lives to bring you pleasure
But also isn't shy about taking his own
Has a prominent underside vein that trails the length of his cock that is highly sensitive
Will curse up a storm if you tease it with your tongue
Gentle undulations from the soft, moist muscle that is your throat around his cock leave Miguel a moaning, loose limbed mess
Will leave you with a scratched up back if you move your hips just right
Scratches in mind, Miguel is always careful not to hurt you too severely with his talons
He also is very cognizant of his own enhanced strength, and controls himself accordingly
BUT
He absolutely can and will go feral on you if you provoke him enough
"Provoke him how?" you may ask
Well, here's a quick fire list of things that drive Miguel's libido through the roof:
Calling him daddy/papi
Scratching the hair at the base of his scalp with your nails
Sucking his tongue
Wearing his clothes
Pulling/tugging his hair (he luhs dat shit)
Complimenting him in any way
Like literally you just have to breathe in his direction and I promise you he'll be ready
Loves to fuck you in the raunchiest positions
He most likes you face down, tongue out, ass up, his hands around your throat
Also, the messier the better with him
Definitely a breeding kink
He would adore seeing you heavy with either his cum or his babies or both
Is quite vocal
Has the prettiest, breathiest moans and whispers
Is a strong proponent for body worship
Likes to lavish you in kisses and positive affirmation
Can be just as gentle and sweet as he can be rough and domineering
Aight sis 👏🏾, now les talk about deez fangs a' his
Sizable, as we've all seen, wickedly sharp and, as I imagine it, very sensitive to temperature and other external stimuli
While I don't think Miguel has a thing for drinking your blood, he certainly has a thing for drawing it
Likes to see pretty crimson decorate your skin
It gives him a bit of a head rush to know that you trust him (and his restraint 🙃) enough to allow him to bite you
Which, he definitely does bite you
Not always hard enough to draw blood, but it happens
He thinks your fascination with his fangs is hot
Actually come to think of it, that’s another one of those things that turns him on
That thing being you licking over or just generally appreciating his fangs
Very handsy
He also loves to man handle you with his super strength
Has an overall strength kink but it's his own strength that turns him on
I said before that Miguel prefers fluffier girls and I meant that, so if you’re heavier he loves to A.) give you reassurance that you’re beautiful and B.) massage and rub you all over
He especially likes the way the fat of your breasts spills through the gaps between his fingers when he grabs them
May or may not have a bit of a mommy kink 👀
Sorry these are so all over the place y’all, I just have many horny thoughts about him and they all tried to spill out of me at once, so there you have it. 😂 I'll probably add more as I think of them, or just create a part two.
Hope you enjoyed! And feel free to share your sex-canons about Miguel in the comments!
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It is currently 3AM for me rn so apologies in advance if this looks like it was typed by a drunk person,
I've had this idea at random, but I'd like to request Teen!Gojo with Male!Reader(who Gojo has a fat crush on) who is very physically affectionate and by the power of plot armor has the a ability to break through Gojo's infinity. And so he uses this power, not to beat the living shit out of Gojo but rather to sneak behind him and either give him bear hugs from behind or tickle his sides whenever he isn't looking.
★ - Thank you for requestin' anon !! 'm in love with this concept s'muchhh!
☆ - Teen! Gojo Satoru x Plot armored! Male Reader (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)
You,—contrary to popular belief— weren't a strong sorcerer.
At least not compared to the almighty Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. The strongest sorcerers of the modern era.
Though, there is one thing about your technique that could easily make you one of the strongest. If you trained and worked with it, but that's too much work.
Your technique was sort of like Shoko's. RCT, but you had better control of it due to constant training when you were young.
So, what does a young teenager, whose bored out of his mind, do at times like these?
Stifling a giggle, you channel your cursed energy on your hands, sneaking up behind Gojo who was too busy arguing with Geto about something.
You pass through Infinity easily, grabbing Gojo by the waist, picking him up, and twirling him around. "Hi, Gojo!!"
Gojo yelps in surprise. It isn't every day—scratch that— no-one was able to get through Infinity unless he lets them. No-one except for the person holding him, who as much as he denies, has a fat, big, huge, ginormous, and massive crush on.
"[Name], it's great to see you," Geto says sharing a knowing and mocking look at Gojo, who is desperately trying to calm himself.
You keep your hands on Gojo's waist, peeking your head through the crook of the albino's neck. "Do you know when that crepe store down the street opens?
"Uhm... it opens tomorrow at 3," Gojo mutters as he pushes his glasses further up his face to hopefully hide the increasing blush on his face.
[Name] giggles happily, spinning Gojo around a few more times. "We should go when it does! It'll be like a nice little get-together!"
Geto snorts. "Ah, I won't be able to go and Shoko is... being Shoko. You and Satoru should go together don't you think?"
Gojo snaps his head up glaring daggers into his friend's eyes. He knew exactly what Geto was trying to plan, and [Name] being the absolute angel he is—
"Yeah, that sounds fun!! Just me 'n you, right Gojo?"
—agrees without a second thought.
[Name]'s hands move from his waist to his torso, a scheming smile on his face.
"[Name] don't. I swear to—"
Gojo interrupts himself with a loud laugh his hands on [Name]'s wrist, his glasses falling onto his nose as he shakes his head frantically. "S-stop it! Suguru! Do s-soemthing!"
Geto raises his hands up defensively. "Hear no evil, see no evil."
"[N-Name!] St- ah! Stop ittttt!!" Gojo's eyes are brimming with tears now, his chest heaving and his body convulsing. He hates being tickled, mostly because his body is so damn sensitive due to Infinity.
But [Name] just... God he doesn't know where to start.
You let go of his torso with a bright smile your hands immediately settling back on his waist. You were a big physical touch person if that wasn't already obvious.
"We're gonna have so much fun on this date, Gojo!"
Geto laughs at his friend's expense who was blushing. Like, whole body blushing.
Gojo swallows thickly, forcing himself to remember it was a friend date. They were just friends.
Only friends.
Fuck, he was in love with this idiot.
"Y-yeah. We'll have fun without Suguru!" Gojo is quick to regain his normal attitude. Well, as normal as it can be with the man he swears he's going to spend his life with nuzzling his neck, talking with Suguru about something he couldn't care any less about.
"I'm glad I'm not coming. I know you'll have a fun time, [Name]. Satoru has quite the surprise for you." Geto teases, drawing an air heart between the two.
"Suprise? What suprise?"
Gojo blushes it feels like his skin is going to melt off. "Nothing! Suguru is making stuff up!"
"Mhm. Sureeee."
[Name] presses into Gojo's cheek. "C'mon tell me!"
Gojo glares at his friend who just shrugs.
So much for being his best friend.
#writin' shit.#ANSWERED LETTERS — 001#gojo x male reader#jjk fluff#jjk x male reader#gojo satoru#male reader#★: anon!#Gojo fluff#Fluff#jujutsu kaisen
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PANCAKES — sae itoshi.
"what the fuck"
sae curses out loud. loud enough to catch your attention all the way from the living room. a disgruntled sigh leaves his lips when you walk over to him, peering at the burnt chocolate sticking to the pan.
"... were you trying to melt the chocolate?" sae glares at your snickers.
"how the fuck do you do this, why won't it melt?" he grumbles.
"because you're doing it wrong. boil some water and use another bowl to melt it" you smile at the utter bewilder on his face, offering to help. sae refuses all the same, muttering something unintelligible. something that sounds like i can do this on my own, you just watch me.
see, it all started when you made a snide comment about how he shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen all alone. it was a lightheaded remark, one that slipped past your lips with bubbling giggles and mixed with the fragrance of hot brewed coffee in seconds. and when he found you laughing a little to yourself, you were amused— to say the least, at the way he looked almost offended.
truthfully, itoshi sae is no chef. and he's aware.
but he reminds you of the times he makes instant ramen, though always a little soggy ( he adds more water than needed ). and the times he brings you breakfast in bed, ( although the french toast is always slightly burnt ). and didn't you say it yourself that he makes you the best sunny side up eggs?
that's when he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, letting the apron tightly hug his body. he told you he can make you something nice and warm right then. if you weren't being serious with your teases, sae sure was. you let him tell you he wasn't offended, no, just merely surprised. it's not that he's pouting, as if. he's just concentrating. those aren't silent huffs, of course not, it's just that he's never made pancakes before.
as if to prove his point, sae hip bumps you out of the way to get to the counter. you're left gaping at him, dumbfounded.
it was subtle, barely noticeable. just the casual sway of his hips against yours as he walked past you. but you knew it for what it was. if nobody else could see it, you could.
sae had hip bumped you. like a fucking child.
that's when you decided perhaps it was better to busy yourself with a movie. let the undeniably —though you let him believe otherwise— challenged man channel his inner chef. that's also when he actually started pouting. sae always thinks he can do way better when you're watching him. ( he would rather die than actually say that. )
which brings us back to the burnt chocolate in the pan. you laughing. sae glaring.
"that's why i told you to stay here", sae grabs another bar of chocolate, "how was i supposed to know that".
"which proves my point, you can't be left unattended in the kitchen." you swear if looks could kill, you would drop dead right now.
"’m not asking you to help me. just tell me when i do something wrong" he mutters quietly, focusing all his attention on melting the chocolate right this time.
your smile comes as naturally as breathing. at the slight furrow of his brows in focus, at the determined glint in his eyes. slightly parted lips and the steady rise of his shoulders with each breath he takes. any normal observer would not be able to tell apart from the usual monotonous expression sae wears to the contrast you can see now. but you're not just any normal observer. you're the reason sae is wearing a light pink apron, the reason he's spending his day-off in the kitchen making pancakes, why his hands are dusted with flour, the reason he absolutely can not accept anything less than perfection.
itoshi sae is making you pancakes.
the idea is as baffling as it's sweet.
"what would you do without me?" you joke, bringing your arms to tightly wrap around his torso. sae places his hand on your back, resting his chin on the crown of your head "i would be sleeping and not dealing with this shit".
"you would never know how to melt chocolate" you laugh— and it's the laugh that makes sae aware of his own heartbeat, the way he's absently tapping to its rhythm on your back.
his own chuckle rumbles through you, "and i would never know how to melt chocolate".
© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]
soft sae? soft sae. i don't know anymore tbh. is he ooc? perhaps. do i care? no.
#❀˖° ─ hana writes.#sae itoshi#blue lock#sae itoshi x you#itoshi sae#itoshi sae x you#sae itoshi x reader#blue lock x reader#blue lock fluff#sae x reader#sae itoshi x y/n#blue lock x y/n#sae itoshi fluff#bllk fluff#bllk#bllk x reader#blue lock sae#itoshi sae x reader
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I can't belive you're here. - Quinn Hughes x ofc
Photo from Pinterest
Title: I can't believe you're here.
Author: Tory / @tkwrites
Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts
Warnings: Unprotected sex - p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), Captain kink unlocked, oral & fingering (f receiving), squirting, swearing, surprise visit, if I missed anything, please let me know.
Summary: After a very long time apart due to bad timing, Sarah surprises Quinn on the road. Wearing his jersey, she fulfills one of his long harbored fantasies. The night just gets better when he sees what she has on underneath.
Word Count: 6,000
Comments:
Hoo boy. This is by far the most depraved thing I’ve written. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
If you did enjoy it, please let me know! Your comments and questions inspire me to keep writing!
To the lovely anon who requested this: I hope it lives up to your expectations. I had so much fun writing it.
Anonymous asked:
'In some ways, he’d love to see his name across her back, but not at a game.'
Ohhh, I'd love to see something about this in the future. Later on in their relationship, he's on a roadie and not seen Sarah for 4 weeks due to it and some study trip prior. He has just played either Brady or his brothers who noticed he's really down and missing her, they call Sarah and organise to fly her to his next destination to suprise him after the game. She's waiting in his hotel room, wearing nothing but his jersey to cheer him up after a loss 😉
Or a more wholesome storyline of her first WAG jacket or something aha
Absolutely love all your pieces and can't wait to continue reading of their universe xx
I can't believe you're here.
A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot
Fatigue and failure were deep in his bones as he walked into the hotel.
Logically, Quinn knew winning streaks always come to an end. It was impossible to have a perfect 82 game season. No one had ever come close to that.
It didn't matter how much he tried to reason, it still felt like shit to be on the receiving end of a shut out after two straight losses.
The fact that they were still on the road didn’t help. The fourteen day trek away from home was always terrible, no matter when it fell in the season, but having it come right after Sarah had to be at a conference was torture. It meant he hadn’t seen her in over 12 days.
It was terrible timing. The day after he got back from the six day Midwest road trip, she left for a seven day ocean conservation conference in Costa Rica. She got back two days after he had to leave again.
It had been nineteen long days since he'd seen her for more than twenty four hours.
They talked and sent messages and photos, but it wasn’t the same as talking face to face and kissing her and feeling her skin and smelling her perfume.
He’d learned from the past and brought her pillowcase with him, but even that was beginning to smell less and less like her.
He only had to get through three more games and five and a half more days before he'd be back home and in her arms.
One of the team assistants ran up to him in the lobby, “Hughes,” he said, a little breathless, “they changed your room.”
“What?” he asked, trying to pull himself from his misery and back to the present.
“They had to change your room. Something about the heater being broken,” Sean said.
“Okay. Petey still with me?”
“No, they had to separate you,” Sean forced the key into his hand as they stepped on the elevator, “I already moved your bags.”
He’d slept four quick hours in a room that felt perfectly fine before heading to the pre-game meeting and meal. He couldn’t remember if he’d left his stuff all over the bathroom counter. Hopefully, Sean didn’t have to go through too much trouble. Quinn definitely owed him dinner.
The room was dark when he walked in. And it smelled like… it smelled like Sarah’s smoky vanilla perfume.
Fuck. He missed her so much, his mind was playing tricks on him.
At least he would have a room to himself, and could call her in peace without the threat of Petey listening in. They could probably even get some phone sex in, which hadn’t happened for far too long.
Then, he would get a full night's sleep before their flight to Chicago. That, in itself, was a rare luxury he was outrageously thankful for.
When he flipped on the light, the first thing he noticed was the king size bed. The bedspread was mussed, as if someone had been lying on it. Strange for any hotel, but especially one this nice. Rooms he came into often looked so pristine, it was as if no one had ever stepped foot in them before.
He pushed the worry out of his mind and started toward the bathroom.
“Hey.”
Great, now he was hallucinating. It sounded like Sarah was right behind him. He must be more tired than he thought.
“Quinn?”
He stopped dead in his tracks, backpack nearly slipping to the floor. If he turned and she wasn’t here, he didn’t know what he’d do.
A touch grazed his shoulder, and a strong whiff of her perfume made his knees shake. “Sarah?” he asked, hoping against hope. Why would she be here?
“Yeah,” she said.
He turned and felt a strange, strangled sort of gasp escape his throat.
Sarah was in his hotel room. She was here. She was in Boston. How was she here?
When his brain finally reconciled the fact that she was actually in front of him, he noticed she was wearing his flying skate jersey.
“I - how?”
She smiled softly, set his backpack aside and wrapped her arms around him.
His body caught on before his brain did, hugging her against him fiercely.
Coming home from her conference in Costa Rica, which had been lovely but incredibly socially exhausting, all Sarah had wanted was to fall into bed with Quinn. When she came home to a dark and empty house, it had been a rude reminder he was on the longest road trip of the year. The apartment felt too big without him in it, especially for so long.
“I missed you so much,” she said into his neck.
“How did you do this?” he finally asked.
He’d known other players' wives and girlfriends occasionally showed up on road trips, but generally, their partners always knew, and it was usually because they were close by one of their hometowns.
“Brady called me. He said you were so sad and not yourself on Wednesday, he wanted to do something. So he bought me a ticket and called Brock to get the schedule.”
He sniffed and she pulled back.
“Oh, Quinn,” she said upon seeing the tears pooled in his eyes.
“I’m just…” The shock of seeing her brought all his emotion up to the surface.
“I know,” she said, pulling him into her again, feeling a few tears slip down her own cheeks. It felt so good to hold him.
His mouth landed on her neck. It was a comforting thing to taste her skin as they embraced. He mumbled something against her.
“Sorry?” she asked, trying to pull away so she could see his face.
He didn’t want to let her go, not even for a second. Instead, he lifted his lips just enough so he could repeat, “I missed you so much.”
“I know Quinny,” she said, running her fingers into his hair. “I missed you, too, but I’m here now, and we have all night.”
His mouth was still on her neck, though he’d started moving with more intent, licking and kissing. The shock to his system was giving way to relief and desire.
Finally fed up with his teasing, Sarah took his jaw in her hands and forced his head up so she could kiss him.
He sighed into it, and found some way to pull her tighter against him.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she was wearing his jersey, but the shock of her in his hotel room, seeing her face and her blue eyes and her lips - god her lips, he couldn't get enough of them - stole all of his brain power. Now, as his hands splayed across her back, feeling the numbers patched and stitched there, the reality of it hit him.
Forcing himself to break away so he could look at her, his knees threatened to buckle when he noticed she wasn’t wearing anything else - not that he could see anyway. The fabric hit her upper thigh, leaving much of her legs bare.
“I -” he tried to say something, but lost the words.
The idea of wearing his jersey came from Emma. Sarah thought it was cheesy, but Emma assured her he’d love it. She’d surprised Brady at the end of a roadtrip like that, and “I swear his brain, like, short-circuited or something. He just stood there, staring at me for like 30 seconds before he went wild.”
It didn’t surprise her Quinn didn’t have the same immediate reaction. He was so much quieter than Brady, and from what she could tell, they had a much more subdued relationship than the Tkachuks.
The way he was looking at her now, though - like she was the thing he'd been anxiously waiting for on Christmas morning - made it all worthwhile.
“I borrowed it, I hope that’s okay.”
“Yeah,” he breathed.
When they were apart, the mechanics of an orgasm could be there, but it just wasn't as good. It could never be. She missed feeling him: his skin, his breath, the rigid length of him inside her.
It wasn’t that she’d been hoping he’d ravish her right away (okay, maybe she had been, but she knew Quinn, and knew he would never react that way), but all this looking without any touching was getting out of hand. Impatience was pulling tight through her stomach. The prospect of finally feeling fulfilled was driving her crazy.
She needed to give him a little nudge.
Leaning in, she let her lips graze his ear, down to his jaw and then back. He made a soft, breathy noise, and she knew she almost had him.
Just one more push.
“How do you want me?” she asked, following it up with a slow, open mouthed kiss to the soft spot under his ear.
Blood rushed from his head so fast he felt dizzy.
“I want you to ride me in this,” he managed to say, fingering the stripes on the sleeve.
It was a fantasy he'd harbored since middle school, but had yet to experience. He'd asked his college girlfriend once, and she had scoffed, telling him it would get too hot, which he thought was a strange argument considering a jersey was designed to do the exact opposite.
Sarah didn’t acknowledge his request other than popping open the buttons of his shirt, one after the other. That set him into motion, tugging at his clothing. He couldn’t get it off fast enough.
Through a jumble of arms and hands, tangling in their effort to get him naked, they found themselves on the bed. Quinn flat on his back, breath heavy with anticipation, and Sarah astride him, trying to game plan her next move. She had on lingerie he’d never seen before and didn’t want it to go to waste, but he wanted her in the jersey, and she couldn’t take anything off without spoiling the surprise.
He grew impatient as she debated, shifting his hips up, trying to entice her onto him already. “Sarah,” he whined.
Finally, she decided to just move it to the side, and sink onto him. The stretch after so long was a pleasant burn.
His eyes rolled back, and his hips jumped, wanting to fill her more.
“How are you so wet?” he asked. They hadn’t kissed for that long. Usually, it took a little more to get her this soaked.
A wicked smile spread over her face, “I may have gotten myself off while I was waiting, thinking about finally seeing you again.”
“Fuck.”
She was a vision. Riding him after so long? Wearing his jersey? Confessing to touching herself in this bed thinking of and waiting for him? He was the luckiest man on the planet.
She pitched forward to get the right angle, and moaned, loud and earnest. Good thing they moved him two floors up from the team.
He tried to brace himself, but the fantasy of it, of her being here and wearing his jersey - the golden C winking at him, reminding him of all the work he'd done to get here - knowing his name was on her back made him groan out loud. His restraint stretched until it was paper thin.
His hands explored under the jersey only to feel something smooth tied at her hip and lace at her ribcage.
He coughed, “are you wearing lingerie?”
“Just for you,” she said, meeting his heated gaze with a coy smile.
He didn’t think this could get any better. Now, his mind was wild with possibilities.
“Come for me and I'll show you.”
Holy shit.
The little control he had snapped and he flooded her with a loud groan of her name.
Sarah's hands traced his arms, entwining their fingers before guiding them to rest on either side of his head as she leaned forward to kiss him.
His chest pressed into hers, catching the scratchy logo on his jersey as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
Shaking her head, she pushed herself off of him to go to the bathroom. She needed to clean up and readjust before the next part of her plan could move forward.
He lay there and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. It was almost too fast for him to remember the way he wanted. The bathroom door opened, and he looked over.
“Alright, captain,” she said, leaning on the door frame. She felt incredibly silly, but relished the way his eyes widened at the nickname, “are you ready to see what I have for you?”
Oh God.
He nodded, though he wasn’t sure how he could possibly be prepared for what was coming.
“Do you want to, or should I?” she asked, fiddling with the hem of his jersey, exposing the little heart tattooed on her thigh.
“You can.” His voice squeaked a little as he said it, and he blushed.
Being sexy wasn’t really in her forte, but Sarah tried her best. Lifting the jersey over her head, she thought briefly about tossing it in his face. Deciding that was a step too far, she let it fall to the floor.
Quinn gaped.
Most of the time, Sarah wore cotton briefs - occasionally she switched them for lace or a thong, but this was something totally different than what he was used to seeing her in.
For one, the matching set was so sheer, he could see her nipples through the swirling pattern of the black lace. Then, there was the fact that it was obviously made to be removed. The bra tied in front and her underwear tied at the hips, each with a silky black ribbon, like she was a gift for him to unwrap.
His mind ran away with the thought of tugging the bow on her bra undone with his teeth.
When she did a little twirl so he could see the back, the breath knocked out of his lungs. She looked so damn good, she might just kill him. His heart might just explode.
“What do you think?” she asked, walking closer. She could already see how much he liked it in his wide eyes and panting mouth, but she wanted to hear him say it.
“I -” He didn't know it was possible to get hard so soon after coming.
“Do you like it, Captain?”
His breathing hitched. He never thought he'd have a captain kink, but hearing the title come out of her mouth while she was wearing that? He might just develop one.
Adjusting the bows at her hips so they sat more naturally, Sarah looked at him and repeated, “do you like it, Quinn?”
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Yes. I love it.”
She smiled and climbed onto the bed then straddled him. His hands went to her waist of their own volition.
Her hips ground down.
“You can’t do that,” he said, teeth gritted as he forced the words over a moan. The soft texture of the lace against his cock was incredible.
“What?”
“You can’t ride me again. I won’t last and you haven’t come yet.”
She leaned down so her mouth was inches from his, her breath making him hyper aware of his own mouth and how much he wanted it on her.
“And what are you going to do about that, Captain Hughes?”
He topped her so fast that Sarah grunted and let out a little giggle when her back slammed into the mattress.
“Sorry,” he breathed, only half meaning it as he planted a wet kiss at the base of her throat. He moved down her chest, following the outline of her bra with his mouth. He almost made good on his fantasy of biting it open, but held off. He wanted to watch her fall apart with it on.
“What were you thinking about when you were getting yourself off?” he asked, kissing over her tattoo.
“You,” she panted.
“And what were you imagining me doing?”
She whined.
“What was I doing, Sarah?” he asked, lifting his mouth from where he’d just kissed down to the band of her panties.
“You were eating me out,” she confessed, a blush rising high on her cheeks.
Sometimes, he wished she would have told him how much she fantasized about and enjoyed oral sex before the first time he’d done it. There were four solid months he could have been pleasing her he would never get back.
He smirked a little, “is that what you want now?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?” he asked, tracing his fingers up and down her thighs.
“Yes, Quinn.”
He tutted, “Yes, what?” he asked as his lips went to her inner thigh.
The bolt of electricity that fractured up her spine tipped her voice into a high, breathy whimper.
When she didn’t answer, he repeated the question again, ghosting his fingers against the lace of her panties.
Her hips jumped. “Yes, Captain.”
Oh, it was definitely a kink now. He couldn’t get over the sound of it coming out of her mouth.
He made a satisfied noise and hooked two fingers under the lace gusset, pulling it away from her experimentally. The ties pulled taught, but didn't seem to want to slide over her hips. He tugged again, a little harder.
Flinging a hand down, Sarah grasped the band, “you're going to rip them.”
“I'll buy you more,” he said, almost off handedly, still pulling.
“Quinn, that's not the point. Please don't.”
The pulling stopped, and he pulled back to look into her face. “Okay. I'm sorry.”
Her face melted into a smile, “thank you.” She reached down to ease the ties over her hips.
“No,” he breathed.
Her eyes snapped to his, questioning.
Before she could ask what he wanted instead, he was knocking her hand away and licking one of the ribbons at her left hip into his mouth.
He pulled it away from her with his teeth, eyes growing darker when the bow unraveled and the pieces fell apart.
Taking his time to kiss and lick his way to the other tie, he repeated the action, and groaned when it also untied so easily.
He pulled on the whole thing and flung the garment away. It sailed somewhere across the room, ties flailing.
Sarah bought this set because it was cute and sort of reminiscent of her black bikini he liked so much. She didn't realize what a fetish he would have for the bows.
Settling back between her legs, she whined as he parted her lips and blew on her hot core. Shivers ran up her spine and down to all her fingers and toes.
“What were you thinking about?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you were touching yourself, what were you thinking about me doing?”
“You were eating me out,” she repeated, confused.
His laugh chuffed a burst of hot air against her that had her squirming.
“I mean how. What exactly was I doing?
“You want me to describe it to you?”
“I want to do it for you,” he confessed, voice gravelly.
She made a little squeaking noise that told him how much that idea excited her.
“Tell me how you want me to touch you,” he said before he leaned in to press his tongue against her, just to feel her twitch.
Something inside her broke. Even though she felt depraved at the very thought of telling him this, it was too late to go back. The possibility of feeling it had taken over her body and wouldn’t let it go.
“You had your fingers on my g-spot,” she breathed.
“How many?”
She squirmed again.
“How many, Sarah?” he repeated, circling her entrance, enthralled at the way she flexed.
“Two.” Her mind made her continue and she squeaked, “then three.”
His eyes widened and shot to hers. “Will they fit?”
She nodded. “If you get me off first, they should.”
His eyes were blown dark and full of mischief when he glanced down then back up to meet hers again. “And how was I using my mouth?”
She moaned out loud just thinking about it. “You were doing that suck and flick thing with your tongue.”
He had no idea what she meant.
He'd done it before: the night they'd been eliminated from the finals last season, but she couldn't very well bring that up. I want you to eat me out the way you did when you'd had one of the worst nights of your career? There was no way. Maybe if she demonstrated...
“I can show you,” she said, grasping one of his shoulders, “I need a part of you.”
He toyed for a moment with the idea of presenting her his dick, but if he did that, he wouldn’t want to stop feeling her mouth, which defeated the whole purpose of this. Instead, he crawled over her and tipped his head to expose the column of his throat.
His eyes rolled back as her open mouth connected with his hypersensitive skin. She ran her tongue over his pulse, following it with her bottom lip, before ending with suction, and a flick with the tip of her tongue.
Moaning, he ground against her hot center when she did it again and again.
He wrenched himself away before he could follow through with his desires to sheath himself and take her any way she would let him.
Settling back onto his stomach, he shook his head to get back into the right frame of mind before leveling his gaze with her perfect, pretty pearl again.
He tried to follow the movement of her mouth, and her hips jumped at the feeling.
“Quinn,” she whined as he eased two fingers into her, curling them against that sensitive spot. “Oh my god.”
He continued on. She could feel the movement of his chin, up and down and in and out with each pass of his tongue.
“Harder,” she begged.
He dug his fingers into her soft spot even more.
Throwing her head back, she moaned loudly. “Oh my god, Quinn. Just like that. Don't stop. Please don't stop.”
Like he would ever stop when she was at his mercy like this. Grinding into the mattress, he continued on, moaning at the way her body undulated as she moved with him.
She let out a gasping noise as if someone had forced all the air out of her in one swift hit. Her core began to pulse around his fingers, trying to suck them deeper inside her.
Tipping her chin back, Sarah sighed as wave after soft wave of pleasure crashed over her.
When she stopped contracting so tightly, he waited until one of her aftershocks passed to work another finger into her.
Her voice echoed around the hotel room as she cried out.
He said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had the wherewithal to separate them from the team. There was no way he wanted anyone, let alone someone who knew them, to overhear this.
“So good, Quinn,” she croaked out. “Feels so full.”
He continued kissing her bundle of nerves the way she wanted, pausing every few passes to suck a little more intensely.
A surge of pleasure coiled low in her belly, winding tighter and tighter until every breath ended in a moan. She felt so full and stretched open. So… Alive. All other thoughts fell out of her brain except Quinn and his silver tongue and wicked fingers.
Feeling as if she might just shatter to pieces if she didn't get some relief, Sarah moaned and panted and begged, “please, Quinn. Please.”
She had no idea what she was asking for, but the waves of pleasure kept coming and coming until it was winding up her spine and pulling so tight, she thought it might just wrench every vertebrae apart and fill each gap with the soft promise of her impending release.
He could feel her high building and kept urging her up the slope. Anxious for her summit, he sealed his mouth to her, milking her clit like her orgasm might just satiate his hunger.
“Quinn,” she gasped, spine arching as her hands abandoned her nipples and rummaged for some way to ground herself. One ended up in his hair, and the other fisted into the bedspread. “Oh my god. I think I'm gonna…”
Her voice dissolved into a noise he'd never heard her make as her muscles locked around his fingers. He forced them to continue, working through her orgasm.
Quite suddenly, as pleasure whirled through her veins, a feeling, intense and ferocious, swelled within her.
As a tsunami of white-hot ecstasy crashed over her, he unlocked a space deep within her she didn't even know existed.
“Oh, fuck! Quinn!”
Something molten erupted in her belly like a long dormant volcano.
Vaguely, she heard him groan as if every fantasy he'd ever had was being fulfilled.
Though he knew women could, he’d never seen it in person, never even imagined what feeling her release gush over his hand would be like.
Sometime last season, Beauvillier had gone on and on about making his girl squirt, and Quinn remembered wishing he would keep it to himself. He didn't want to think about that every time he saw them together.
Now, having experienced it first hand, he understood why Tito wanted to tell everyone he knew.
Pleasure continued to ripple through her. No high had ever gone on this long. It eased away the tension that had knotted up in her body, until all at once, sensitivity and overstimulation set in.
“Too much, too much,” she croaked, trying to squirm away from his touch.
He’d been so mesmerized watching her face, he hadn't realized his fingers were still moving. They uncoiled and stilled, and she melted into the mattress as a sigh melted from her lips.
Her chest rose and fell steeply, the tie of her bra pulling taught with every heavy inhale, making the cups ride up the swell of her breasts. God, she was so beautiful.
It took quite a while for her to come down. He gently eased his fingers out only after she stopped pulsing.
A whine escaped her throat at the sudden emptiness.
Slowly coming back to herself, Sarah registered something wet underneath her.
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Did I -” her eyes darted to his as her face flushed with the reality of what had just happened, “did you make me squirt?”
“Yeah," he said, crawling over her again, "and it was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life.”
The embarrassment she felt at making such a mess ebbed away with his confession.
“No one's ever done that to me before. I haven't even been able to.”
A look of immense pride took over his face. “Did you like it? I mean, it seemed like you liked it.”
She nodded, “I've never felt anything like it.”
He brought his lips to hers, and the taste of herself on his tongue made her passion throb to life again.
“Well, Captain,” she said a little while later, smiling at the way his jaw slackened and eyelids grew heavy at the title. “I think I've got one more round in me. What do you want?”
He twitched against her.
“I just want you,” he brought his mouth to her neck. “Want to feel you come on my cock,” he murmured into her skin.
“I think we can arrange for that,” she said, fingers winding into his hair.
Bracing up on his elbows, his gaze fell to her bra.
Instead of using his mouth, he twirled one of the ribbons around his finger and pulled gently to ease the bow undone. It fell apart, revealing a knot in the middle.
“It kept coming undone,” Sarah confessed, hands coming up to help him with the knot, which had pulled incredibly tight amidst her heavy breathing and writhing around.
“I think it's stuck. I can't get it out while it's on me, anyway,” she said, raising her arms above her head. “Here.”
At least he'd been able to remove her bottoms the way he wanted. He eased the lace over the swell of her breasts and helped her lift it off.
He made love to her the way he did whenever he got home from a long time away - earnestly and full of wonder, compliments falling from his lips like raindrops, as if they didn’t cost a thing.
“Fuck, Sarah, you feel so good.”
“I can't believe you're mine.”
“You're so pretty. I can't stop looking at you.”
“God, I'm so lucky.”
They didn’t cost him anything, but they made Sarah feel like she was worth a million dollars.
“I love that sound,” he murmured when she gasped in pleasure and followed it with a low moan.
As he drove into her again and again, he shuttered and moaned, feeling like she was going to shatter him into a million little pieces
He'd been hot all night. A sheen of sweat had spread over his skin as soon as she'd climbed on top of him in his jersey. The prospect of a fantasy being fulfilled sending his body into a frenzy. Working her up to that intense high hadn't been a walk in the park either. He'd been on edge and so focused. Now, he felt like his body was on fire.
She felt and sounded and looked so good. He couldn't think of anything but her.
When she tipped her face to the side with a loud moan, he attacked her jaw and neck with his lips, desperate to taste her again.
She was here. She was in Boston. She was here, in his hotel, in Boston. He just made her squirt, and he didn't have to be down to the bus until 10 the next morning. He must have been doing something right.
When he felt her fall apart around his cock, he breathed through it and hung on for dear life, twitching with the bliss of it.
Coming down from her high, Sarah was mesmerized by him. The defined set of his jaw, the sweaty sheen to his skin, how his curls fell over his forehead.
“You're so handsome, Quinn.”
She knew he was holding on, hoping to urge another high from her, but she didn't have one to give him. It was time to send him over the edge.
Propping up on her elbows, she traced her mouth along his jaw up to his ear. He let out a panicked little whimper.
“Want to feel you,” she whispered. "Want you to fill me up."
His hips stuttered.
“Come for me, Captain.”
White spots blipped in his vision and he had no choice but to obey.
Her name fell from his mouth like a prayer as she pulled him over the edge.
When they walked back in the room after showering, Sarah realized just how much of a mess she'd made of the bed. There was no way they could sleep in it as it was.
“Oh no.”
“What?” Quinn asked, lowering the towel he was running over his hair.
“We need new sheets and housekeeping is going to know exactly what we've been doing.”
“No they won't.”
She pointed to the bed, “you want to tell me they're not going to know we weren't just having sex?”
He laughed, “fine. So they might know. What does it matter? It's not like we know any of them.”
“It's so embarrassing.”
“What is? That your boyfriend made you come so hard you squirted?”
“No,” she was blushing though, “I mean…no. That was amazing.”
“So what's the worry?”
“I just…I don't want anyone else to see.”
He laughed, “that's fair. I can just ask them to bring some extra bedding. No one has to come into the room.”
She nodded, “okay.”
He called the desk, and despite his insistence he would prefer to make the bed himself, the hotel sent someone up anyway.
Sarah folded the comforter before hiding in the bathroom.
Quinn noticed the housekeeper's eyes lingering in one corner of the room. When he glanced over, he saw Sarah’s panties from where he'd thrown them, ties scrawled over the carpet like calligraphy strokes. So much for being discreet.
After giving the woman a tip, he tucked them in Sarah's suitcase before letting her know the coast was clear.
As they settled into bed, Quinn relished holding her close.
Before sleep could overtake her completely, Sarah needed to set something straight.
“I hope you know that Captain thing is only for special occasions. There is no way I'm calling you Captain all the time.”
“That’s fine,” he said, laughing. “Makes it more special when you do.”
“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to like it so much,” she said.
She’d called him Captain as a kind of joke, and half expected him to tell her not to do it again. Quinn didn’t even like pet names. She vividly remembered the way he grimaced the first (and last) time she called him baby.
He ran his fingers through her soft hair. “I don’t know that I would have either. I’ve never had that happen before. You said it, and it went straight to my dick. I think your lingerie had something to do with that.”
She propped herself up on an elbow. “You liked the lingerie?” she teased, full well knowing the answer.
He scoffed, “I'm going to dream about it for the rest of this damn road trip.”
Giggling, she leaned down to kiss him. “Maybe I'll have it on when you get home,” she said against his mouth.
He groaned, “don't joke about that.”
“Why not? Wouldn't it give you something to look forward to?”
“I always look forward to coming home to you.”
She looked down at him for a long time, memorizing the love in his eyes. “I love you, Captain Hughes,” she said before lowering her mouth to his to tell him that way too.
“Tease,” he chided when she pulled away.
She smiled and settled back, laying her head on his chest.
“I love you, too,” he whispered into her hair before they fell asleep. “I can't believe you're here.”
The next morning, Sarah put his jersey back on and put his morning hard on to good use - slower this time so he could remember it properly.
After room service breakfast and a very steamy shower, he walked her down to the lobby to catch her car to the airport.
“I love you,” he said, kissing her forehead.
“I love you too.”
“Thank you for coming.”
“You're welcome. You should really be thanking Brady, though.”
He watched her pull away before heading back to his room to pack his bag.
On the elevator ride, Quinn did just as Sarah suggested.
Love you man. I owe you big time.
Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist
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#quinn & sarah snapshots#quinn hughes#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes smut#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes oneshot#quinn hughes x ofc#quinn hughes x oc#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#nhl smut#hockey fic#hockey romance#requested#tkwrites requests#asks#answered#qh43
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You Better Jump... (1 of 2)
neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈2.5k
Summary: You wake up after a drunk night out to the lock on your door broken. The neighbor who lives in the same apartment complex as you offers to fix it for you.
Warnings: canon divergent (no outbreak) & mentions of Sarah but we don't see or interact with her (AU - she moved out, lives on her own). allusions to further sexual activity between reader and Joel, mainly fluff and flirting and embarrassing interactions that'll give you butterflies, an unhinged best friend (vulgar dialogue from said best friend), cellphone audio connecting elsewhere where other people can hear..., 18+ MDNI. F masturbation in a bathtub, Joel having incredible self control until he doesn't, making out... (I think that's it! As always, let me know if there's anything I missed that should be in here!)
Author's note: I intended for this to be a one shot, but I just know the next part will be pretty long. I still need to write up a few more details for part 2, but it will be posted VERY SOON! For now, please enjoy this. :)
PART 2 HERE (VERY NSFW, 18+ MDNI)!! || MASTERLIST
“Shit, I don’t even know which lock to get,” you mutter to yourself as you stand helplessly in the middle of the aisle.
You went to the bar last night, got a little too drunk for your own good, and when you woke up in the morning, your front door’s lock was broken. You genuinely don’t know how that happened, but you do know that you need to fix it as soon as possible, especially with the fact that you just moved in not too long ago and you live alone.
“Hey there,” a rough Texan drawl says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You look up to see a tall, broad man. Soft, brown eyes, a mustache and some scruff along his jawline. He’s clad in a dark blue t-shirt and some jeans. He’s handsome, and oh god, you’ve been completely gawking at him instead of responding. You finally meet his stare, and his eyes twinkle in delight, like he’s enjoying the attention you’re giving him. “Oh, hi, uh- I’m sorry, just kinda zoned out there for a sec,” you ramble on, trying to save yourself from the embarrassment.
“Oh,” he chuckles, “don’t worry about that.” He smiles, and you’ve never experienced anything more beautiful. “I, uh, couldn’t help but recognize ya, and overhear ya about the locks?” You give a confused look, and he continues, “I think we live in the same apartment complex. You just moved in a few weeks ago, right? I’m Joel.”
You are seriously so confused right now because you are so sure you would never forget if you had a neighbor that looks this handsome. And apparently all your defenses are down right now because you just fucking said that out loud.
You can see Joel’s cheeks and neck flush into a bright red, his hand shooting up to rub the back of his neck and the blush in your face follows. “Holy shit, I did not just fucking say that out loud,” you groan as you bury your hands into your face. You realize you still haven’t introduced your name, so you quickly squeak it out. He tells you it’s nice to meet you followed by your name, and he rambles on, “And I, uh, I’m flattered...you’re, uh, not too bad yourself.” Your head shoots up, and you swear your face cannot get even redder, but somehow it does.
He senses that you can’t handle anymore of this god awful attempt at flirting, so he saves you by continuing his original thought. “Well, what I was tryna say was- I overheard you sayin’ ya didn’t know which lock to choose? I’m pretty handy in the maintenance department, and I’ve helped a few neighbors in our complex with much more complicated than door locks. Maybe I can help ya?” You feel all the stress from your body completely fade away, and you absolutely take advantage of this beautiful man offering to help with your locks.
“Oh my god, really? I owe you one, thank you so so much,” you tell him. He smiles. “It’s no trouble at all, darlin,’” he says as he grabs the correct lock for the apartment complex, “this is the one we’d need.”
All you came here for was for the lock, but you ended up staying with him and having conversation throughout his entire Home Depot run. Turns out he’s a contractor, used to live in a home but since his daughter moved out he doesn’t find the necessity of having a big home for himself. He didn’t sell it though, he let his brother and his wife take it over. Very minimalist kind of guy.
You forget you two didn’t drive to the store together, so you’re almost kind of bummed at the fact that you have to separate from him. He bids you goodbye and says he has to run a few more errands. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour or two. Is it okay if I swing by your place then?”
You’ve been so entranced by his presence and your guys’ conversation that you forgot the entire reasoning behind why you began talking in the first place, and it’s heavily evident in your confused look. His lip quirks up again, “…to fix your door lock,” he adds, amused.
You mentally slap your forehead. Fucking get it together, you think to yourself. “Yes,” you immediately blabber out as soon as you realize you’ve gone quiet again. “Yes, that’s perfect.”
“Alright, darlin’, I’ll see you in a few,” he says as he shoots you a wink and begins walking in the direction of his truck, and there goes that nickname again.
Oh, you are absolutely fucked.
✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
It’s a ten minute drive back home, and as soon as you get back in the car, you call your best friend and tell her what an absolute fool you made out of yourself.
“BITCH,” she screams, gasping for air at how hard she’s laughing, “I can’t fucking stand you, oh my god, I’m crying.”
“You’re such a bitch,” you tell her, while tears are also streaming down your face, attempting to catch your breath. “Dude, I swear, once you get a good look at him, you’ll see what the fuck I’m talking about, and you’ll see my reaction was VALID to such a beautiful looking man.”
She stays on the phone with you for the rest of your little drive, and ends your guys’ conversation with, “In all seriousness, though, you better jump on that di-”
You gasp out and yell her name, “OH MY GOD, you’re done. Goodbye.”
She cackles, “Update me later, babe. I love you.”
“I love you more, you fuckin’ menace,” you say as you park.
✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Your next few hours are filled with you absolutely stressing. You know Joel is just coming to fix the door, but you can’t shake away the nerves. So you spend the first hour absolutely deep cleaning your apartment.
You still have about maybe an hour left, so you decide to try and calm your nerves some more with a quick bath. You quickly undress and give yourself a quick wash in the shower to wash all of today’s dirt before you set up your bath.
Filling up the tub, you throw in some lavender scented bubbles and light your favorite cashmere vanilla candle, the combination of the scents immediately relaxing you. Maybe a little too relaxed, though, because as you sink deeper into the tub, your body can’t help but continue to rise in heat at the thought of Joel. Without thinking, your eyes slowly close and your hand drifts closer to where you’re aching the most.
You start by drawing soft circles on your clit, pulling soft little mewls from your throat. The thought of those big rough hands pushes you to move a little faster, and the thought of that scruff rubbing against your inner thigh pushes you to dip your middle and ring finger into your entrance, pumping in and out with such a need you haven’t experienced in a while. The sounds coming out of you now are high pitched and whiny, and you can’t help the way your body writhes against the bathtub, sloshing water out the sides.
Your hips are grinding up against your palm, stimulating your clit while your fingers hit that velvety spot that drives you absolutely mad. You bring your other hand up to your mouth as a reflex to silence your sounds, but an image flashes in your mind that it was Joel’s hand over your mouth instead, and that’s what ends you.
Your eyes clamp shut, head thrown back, spine completely arched, and all you can see are little white fireworks behind your eyelids as your orgasm breaks you, the lukewarm water feeling hotter than when you first drew the bath.
You sit there for a moment to catch your breath, willing your body to work since the man you just touched yourself to should be here in any minute.
You dry yourself off, putting your hair up in a towel and dressing in some gray sweat-shorts and a tank top, not caring to completely doll your figure since he’s in your home after all. Right as you finish up your skincare, you hear a knock at your door. You take one more look at yourself, and you’re still absolutely flushed with a hint of that orgasmic glow, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If he can make you cum like that with just the thought of him, you’re absolutely gonna take your best friend’s advice from earlier.
✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
You open the door for him and immediately the heat you tried to save yourself from is back, tenfold. “Hey, darlin’,” he says with a smile. The nickname makes the butterflies in your tummy flutter harder than before. You give a sweet smile back. It’s his turn to melt, but you don’t clock it as easily as he can with you.
He steps inside, a little closer to you, and immediately he falls to his knees. You watch him, wide-eyed, as he pulls out a few little tools from his back pocket, and suddenly you realize you were holding your breath. Here he is, wasting no time getting started on fixing your door for you while you stare at him like he’s giving you a strip tease, all because he got down on his knees.
You clear your throat, trying to regain your composure, and you offer, “C-can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee, tea?”
He looks up at you, and he cannot get enough. Your flushed cheeks, the way your body language shows your excitement and nerves all in one, your towel lopsided on your head. So goddamn beautiful, he thinks to himself. Again, it’s his turn as he zones out in his thoughts, but this time, you do notice, and you can’t help but feel a sense of confidence shoot down your spine at the fact that you’re affecting him just as much as he affects you.
Your smirk grows the longer he stares, and finally he realizes what’s happening, and his face goes tomato red. He’s pretty sure no one has ever seen him blush this much since he was a teenager. “Some water would be wonderful, sweetheart, thank you,” he says, thanking whatever God in existence that his words were coherent and not a blubbering mess like his brain.
“Coming right up,” you say, and make your way into your kitchen, thankful for the little private moment to yourself. As you grab Joel a cup and fill it with ice and water, you feel your phone ring in your pocket. It’s your best friend. You bring your phone to your ear, hitting the answer button on the way up.
“Hello?” you repeat several times before you hear your best friend, but not through your phone. Forgetting the water for a minute, you scramble to the living room, where Joel is right next to, to hear your best friend coming from your living room speaker: Hello? Can you hear me?? I said did you jump on sexy neighbor’s dick ye-
You hurriedly end the call and throw your phone across the room. Your heart starts to pound even harder when you see Joel in your peripheral view, still working hard on the lock, but he is definitely in the proximity to have seen and heard everything. You quickly turn back to the kitchen to grab the glass, purposely avoiding Joel’s eye.
Quickly you grab the glass and place it on the little table near the front door. Joel sits back on his haunches for a moment and takes a long gulp of the ice cold water. Too amused at the display that happened moments ago, he can’t help himself when he says, “So… sounds like ya got your hands full with that friend of yours, hm?” He looks up at you with mischief in his eye.
And just like that, any sense of confidence you had at having the upper hand over this Texan man went down the drain. You completely fumble. “Oh- I- yeah, my best friend… Did you hear- Fuck, no, of course you heard, I-”
Joel pulls himself up to stand at full height, now towering over you. He brings his pointer finger and thumb to your chin, pulling you to meet his eyes while also pulling you from the hole you keep digging deeper. You immediately shut up. He has a crooked grin plastered on his face when he says, “I didn’t hear a thing,” followed by a wink. You can feel your knees wanting to buckle. You breathily squeak out an okay and he assures you with another okay in response. You two stare into each other’s eyes for a moment before Joel, without thinking, says, “Let me take ya out to dinner.”
You slowly pull away from his grasp, afraid you’re invading his space even though he just asked you out on a date. He takes it as a sign of discomfort and immediately creates an arm’s length of space between you. “I-I’m sorry if I overstepped or made you uncomfor-”
“No, Joel, hey,” you cut him off quickly, stepping slightly closer. “You just surprised me, that’s all. I’d love to go to dinner with you,” you beam up at him, your bottom lip wedged in your mouth to ease your nervousness. “I just pulled away because I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything,” you quickly add.
“That’ll never happen,” he softly says. He steps closer again. “I’m sorry, but I- Shit, okay, I’m a gentleman through and through, but I-” he pauses for a moment, “I just- I really need to kiss you-”
You don’t let him finish his thought as you grab onto his arms and pull him into you, guiding both his arms around your lower back and guiding your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. It’s a battle of teeth and tongue, and the way your noses bump each other ever so often is enough for you to completely buckle. His hold on you is tight enough to keep you standing, but you truly don’t know how much more of this you can take with a certain bulge pushing into your lower belly. His one hand falls lower and testing the waters, he lightly grasps onto your asscheek. You moan into his mouth at that, and he takes that as your signal for him to fully grab you, hiking you up onto your tippy toes in an attempt to consume more of you. He breaks the kiss a little to give you some airflow back, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he brings his kisses to the side of your mouth, to your cheek, gliding down your jaw and neck, licking and nipping anywhere you give him access to.
You were right. It’s not quite exactly your thighs like you were imagining earlier, but the way his plump lips, mustache, and scruff feel along your neck is absolutely sinful and addicting, and…
Oh, you are absolutely fucked.
Author's note - extended: I hope you guys enjoyed this enough to tune in to part 2! The 2nd part will be very SMUTTY, so... ;)
EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller#pedrohub#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel x reader#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou smut#smut#joel miller fluff#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal#endless thoughts fics
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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 10 Things I hate about you ´ˎ˗
Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: Percy starts trying to make his move on Y/N, but she just won't budge!!
Warning(s): swearing
Word Count: 1902
╰➤ MASTERLIST pt2
"That's actually the new rule? God Silena must hate you," Piper joked.
"You wouldn't even imagine, she's so dramatic. And her taste in boys isn't any better," you shook your head. You were both walking to get some water, absolutely dehydrated from soccer.
"Makes me glad I like girls," you both laughed. As practice neared it's end, Piper was heading towards her dad's car to go home. You made your way over to the bleachers where your bags sat and grabbed them before heading back to your car. When you sat down, you got a text from Silena,
'can u get some McDonalds on ur way back'
'no'
'sike im going now'
You pulled into the parking lot seeing the drive-thru line was too long to wait. You walked up to an empty kiosk, to tired to interact with anyone, and ordered your food.
"You go to AHS right," a guys voice you didn't recognize asked from behind you.
"I don't know, what does my uniform say?"
"That you're a soccer kid. You sure your any good?"
You sighed as you turned to face the mysterious boy behind you. He was taller than average with messy black hair. He had a hoodie with some sweats on. "Soccer balls aren't the only kind of balls I can kick the life out of, so can you fuck off?"
"Woah, feisty one aren't you?"
"By feisty would you maybe mean iconoclast, orrr?"
"Maybe more intractable," you raised your eyebrows.
"Wow, big words huh," You went to turn back and finish ordering. Percy took the chance to walk over, leaning on the machine whilst facing you.
"What? Did you think I was stupid?"
You internally groaned, why was he still here? "You definitely have the look. Now, do you mind?"
He was standing in front of the machine to pay, "Oh, never."
He had a shit eating grin as he pulled his phone and paid. "Hey! I didn't ask you to do that."
"Call it my treat," he smiled.
"No I'm paying you back, I think I have cash in my bag," you went rummaging through your bag to find absolutely no cash. "Apple Pay?"
"Hey, are you asking for my number? That's really sweet," it feels like an aneurysm just burst from the annoyance this conversation has left you with.
"Nevermind fuck you I'm not paying you back," you spat back.
"Meaning now you owe me," Percy said. Deep breathes.
"I don't owe you shit, its not like I asked you to pay."
"Yeah yeah, potato potato," Percy made his way towards the door. "See ya around, I'll figure out how you can return the favor."
You might just have to air out the McDonalds. You sighed and waited for five minutes as they called out for your order. When you grabbed the food you made your way home, eating Silena's fries on the way back. Dad was working late at the hospital so it was just you two.
"Have I ever told you your my favorite sister?"
"No not as of late," you put the bags of food on the table and started chowing down. "You literally haven't spoken to me in two days. Be glad I'm so nice."
"Well nice is a really strong word," you glared at her. "If you really wanted to be nice, then you'd-"
"No."
"You don't even know what I'm gonna say."
"Fine, what?"
"You'd go on a date so I can go on a date-"
"No," Silena grunted loudly.
"Why do you insist on keeping me captive in this home. I wanna enjoy my teenage years you know."
"You not missing out on much. The guys here are lame, including your oh so dreamy Lukey."
"He's literally amazing. Like have you seen him? His car?"
"Hard to miss. He's just so in your face, it makes me sick," you faked gagged.
"Haven't you ever wanted to live the perfect teenage life."
"Tried it. It sucked, not what it's caked out to be," you smiled as you started to clean up. Silena leaned back into her chair sighing, looking defeated. "You know, college is only two years away. I think you'll be fine until then."
"My life is so boring," she said as she walked up to her room. You could tell she was upset, but you weren't going to date some loser just so she could get tossed by Luke when he was bored. That was something he did a lot.
You went to do some homework at your desk while listening to some music. You saw your phone went off and went to check it, someone had texted you.
'I think I found a way for u to pay back the favor'
There's no way.
'how tf did u find my number'
'dw bout it??'
'why u gotta be nosy??'
'im blocking you'
'wait??'
'no??'
'fine wtf do u want'
'on Friday there's a party'
'no'
'alright I'll pick you up at 9'
'no you won't???'
He stopped answering after that. How on gods green grass did he find your number? You just ignored it, putting your phone on silent and getting back to your homework. Without realizing it, you fell asleep at your desk.
You woke up when you heard banging at the door, "Y/N!!"
You leaned up and stretched in your chair. Desk naps are absolute back killers holy. "What do you want?"
"Did you ever make it to your bed," Silena looked at you up and down.
"No, what time is it?"
"Time for you to hurry the hell up, we need to leave now," she said as she stormed out. You groaned as you stood up and walked over to your closet, grabbing some jeans and a hoodie before running down toward your car. "About time."
"I could just not drive you," you said as you both stepped in the car. You were just joking of course, she doesn't need to be asking Luke Castellan for a ride anyways.
You pulled in the parking lot, and before even coming to a full stop, you saw your sister jumping out and making her way to Mr. Convertible. BARF.
"Dude, I don't think the plans working," Charles said, sounding worried.
Leo sighed, "look we just need some time, Y/Ns not gonna just give in after like, a day."
Charles groaned as he stared at Silena and Luke flirting from a mere 50 feet away. The way her long hair flowed in the wind, the way her lip gloss shinned in the sun, he couldn't get enough. "Whatever, I have French tutoring with her later, we'll see how it goes."
"Not gonna lie this is kind of hard," Percy said from behind the two, making them jump.
"Jesus, you need a bell or something," Leo said with his hand on his heart, feeling it speed up.
Percy rolled his eyes, "Anyways, I think she blocked me, and all I did was pay for her food."
Charles just softly facepalmed. When he got his face out of his hands, he saw Luke walking towards them.
"Luke," Percy cheered while holding his arms out. Luke did not return the hug.
"Dude, I'm not paying you to get fucking aired. I need you to take her to the party this Friday. Not the one in 20 and a half years," Luke complained.
"Dude, its not like Y/Ns the easiest person to ask out around here," Leo chimed.
"Literally," Percy agreed. "Look, I invited her out to the party, just gimme a moment bro."
"Plus, I'm gonna need a pay raise."
Luke laughed in his face, "Yeah no way."
"Then you can say goodbye to little ms Silena over there," Luke rolled his eyes as he pulled out his wallet, slapping a Benjamin into Percy's hand. "Love you too."
Luke just held up his middle finger as he walked off, "He's such an amazing ray of sunshine isn't he?"
Percy and Charles just stared at Leo, "What? Am I not allowed to be my funny and whimsical self?"
They both walked off without saying a word.
Silena and Charles have their free period and use it to study on some French together.
"So how's operation 'get my impossible sister a date' going," Silena asked.
"Well, we have a guy, but she's just not going for him. We need some help here, what kind of guy does she go for?"
"The problem is she just DOESN'T," Charles gave her a look before she continued. "Not like that. I mean, she thinks guys like Logan Lerman and Dylan O'brian are pretty hot, so Percys probably her type."
"Okay so we got that right at least," he grumbled.
"I mean the reason she just shits on all the guys here is because she thinks of them all as 'misogynistic assholes of the patriarchy,' she rolled her eyes.
"So what, a guy who can shut the fuck up when needed or something," Silena laughed at Charles joked, and he sweared he started ascending.
"Yeah just maybe," she smiled.
"Silena, can I ask you something?"
"Whats up?"
"You know the party on Friday. Would you wanna go? I mean if Percy can convince your sister and all you know."
"Of course I want to go, which is why I really need Y/N to just man up," she paused. "or woman up, I guess."
﹒º. ౨ৎ
You sat back and doodled in your notebook in your English class. After spending most the class debating over sexist views in classic literature, you felt kind of annoyed. Its like no one cares these days, you know?
The bell rang and you walked over to your friend Hazel. "Honestly you should be like a lawyer or something, watching you arguing these boys is like music to my ears."
"You might be on to something, I love belittling them as it is. Imagine I got paid to do it," you laughed. When you walked out the class, you saw Hazel's boyfriend, Frank, waiting for her outside. You waved hello then paused when you saw Percy next to him.
"Oh look who it is," Percy exclaimed. You didn't even waste your breathe as you just turned and walked off towards your locker. Percy quickly rubbed his temples and ran after you. "Where ya going?"
"Anywhere," you said as you made it to your locker to grab your next books. Percy stood off to the side, leaning on the lockers. "What do you want now?"
"To take you out this Friday night," he smiled.
"I'd rather swallow 4 laxatives and a bowling ball and staple my ass cheeks together than be stuck in a room full of intoxicated teenagers," you slammed your locker shut and walked off.
Percy followed after you, "Don't you have the fun vocabulary!!"
"Extensive," you smirked.
"Look, it'll be fun."
"Doubtful."
"Do I need to ask in like, fucking greek or something," Percy pleaded.
"Maybe choose a language you actually know first."
"Μπορώ να μιλήσω ελληνικά μια χαρά," you looked at him wide-eyed. "Why must you continue to doubt me?"
"How do I know you didn't insult me?"
"I don't know, just trust me maybe," you shot up an eyebrow with an amused upside down smile on your face. "όπως είπα, θα είμαι εκεί στις εννιά εντάξει."
"No, to whatever you just said," you chuckled as you headed off to your next class.
﹒º. ౨ৎ
✰ Μπορώ να μιλήσω ελληνικά μια χαρά - I can speak Greek just fine
✰ όπως είπα, θα είμαι εκεί στις εννιά εντάξει - like i said i'll be there at nine ok?
✰Taglist: @liviessun
(just lemme know if u wanna be added)
#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#percy jackson pjo#percy pjo#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson x you#silena beauregard#silena pjo#charles beckendorf#charles pjo#charlena#luke castellan#luke pjo#leo valdez pjo#leo hoo#leo valdez hoo#leo pjo
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The Younger Kind Part 8 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley is having a hard time trying to convince himself that being with you is wrong, but he plans another date anyway. You're floating on cloud nine after Saturday night, but you're quickly brought back down to earth the next time you see him. Lucky for you, Bradley more than makes up for his indiscretion at the end of the night.
Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)
Length: 4900 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
Check out my masterlist for more!
Bradley was completely stunned, sitting on his living room couch with his soft cock hanging out of his jeans. He heard you start your car, and he saw your tail lights shine through the window blinds as you backed out of his driveway and drove away.
After nearly a year of being touched by nobody but himself, you got him off so good, he still couldn't move ten minutes later.
"Holy shit," he whispered to his silent living room. You had just given him the best blowjob of his life. His entire life. Bradley had been with his fair share of women, gotten more head than he could keep track of. But you were the best. Hands down, the fucking best he had ever had.
Maybe it was because it had been so long since he'd been with someone, but he tended to believe it was just you. He was so attracted to you, he should have known you would absolutely blow his mind like that. He should have known you would show up Amanda and Grace and Talia and become the only one he was thinking about.
Then Bradley cradled his face in both of his hands. You had caught him ready to jerk off with your sweatshirt, moaning your name. How fucking embarrassing. And then you'd agreed to do him a favor and get him off. Your words echoed through his mind, "I can help you with that. If you want."
But you were unattainable. Off limits. The babysitter. Noah was so attached to you. When Nat found out, she was going to lose her mind. And probably not in a good way. Because Bradley was a thirty six year old man with a ridiculous crush on a woman twelve years younger than him.
He forgot to pay you before you left. Oh god, how was he supposed to pay you after you sucked his cock for him? He was starting to feel worse and worse now.
Before he could change his mind, he grabbed his phone and messaged back the first random woman who was trying to chat with him in the app. He'd set up another date. He'd set up a million more dates if he needed to. If he didn't get you out of his mind, he'd have to find a different babysitter and break Noah's heart. And probably his own as well.
------------------------
You were still giggly the next day. You couldn't stop thinking about Bradley. You'd given him a blowjob. He had been moaning your name! You wanted to do that again. Maybe he felt the same way about you that you did about him. Your heart was pounding.
After several texts from Greyson, you decided to keep ignoring him. You had a lot of schoolwork to catch up on, and it didn't help that you knew how big Bradley's dick was and how he tasted. He was bigger and better than Greyson in every way. It wasn't making your day easier envisioning Bradley's eyes practically rolling into the back of his head while you sucked him off, but you indulged in the memories anyway.
The fact that you were masturbating to the thought of him cumming in your mouth when Bradley texted you on Sunday evening should have embarrassed you. But it did not. It made you feel even hotter for him. You really hoped this was him making the next move.
Any chance you're free to come over on Wednesday when you finish your classes?
You bit your lip and squealed, forcing yourself to wait more than five seconds before you texted him back. And when you did, it was with a giddy smile.
I can head over right after class, Daddy. See you on Wednesday.
He didn't end up writing back, but you knew he was busy. So you spent the week avoiding Greyson as much as you could. And when you saw Penny when you were out taking a walk, she waved you down.
"How are things working out with Bradley and Noah?" she asked you with a smile.
Your mind returned to the velvet feel of his erection gliding over your tongue and the broken, raspy groans of his delicious orgasm.
"Oh, so far so good," you said before pressing your lips together. "Noah is the sweetest child in the world. And Bradley, well. He's actually kind of sweet too."
Penny just laughed and nodded her head. "He really is. When my bartenders found out he's dating again, they both lost their minds. I was thinking about trying to see if he was interested in going out with either of them."
Your heart suddenly felt like it was resting against your lungs, making it difficult to breathe. "Oh. Do they seem like his type?"
Penny laughed harder now. "Bradley's type is female."
Okay, that you did believe. Or rather, you believed any woman who was into guys would be into Bradley. As long as you were cool with Noah, the man was the total package.
"He only has the most wonderful things to say about you, too," Penny added with a smile. "He said that even though you're so young, he knows he can trust you with Noah. And I don't think he would say that about very many people."
You couldn't decide if that was a compliment or a slight against your age. And when you drove to his house after your final class on Wednesday, you started to feel awkward. Neither of you had mentioned the fact that the last time you were here, you'd had his dick in your mouth.
"Hi," you called out when you let yourself in, and Noah came running to greet you at the door. You scooped him up in a hug and started to carry him to the kitchen. "Where's your dad?"
Noah just kind of shrugged. "Getting dressed." When you set Noah down at the kitchen table, you immediately noticed a coffee cup sitting on the kitchen counter with Princess scrawled across it.
You picked it up and took one sip of the French vanilla latte, and then you heard Bradley's voice. "Hey. Princess." You spun around with a bright smile on your face, but his expression had you immediately biting your lip and furrowing your brow. He looked confused and irritated and maybe a little sad. None of those expressions were right for his handsome face.
"Hi," you said softly, hoping you could make him smile. "What are your plans for tonight? Going to try to give me a sore throat again?"
His gaze dropped to the floor, and then you really took in what he was wearing. A nice shirt and chinos. He was going out. He hadn't invited you over to see you at all.
"Um, actually," he muttered, but you cut him off.
"Actually, you're going on another date?"
"Yeah." He nodded and briefly met your eyes. "Someone from the app."
He only needed to use you to get his rocks off so he could go out with someone else. God, you were so fucking stupid. He didn't want you at all. He probably thought of you as practically a child. And maybe he found you attractive enough to think filthy things about you, and allow you to suck his dick, but that was it.
"Okay, have a great time," you said, setting the coffee cup down on the counter. You didn't want another sip.
"Princess," he whispered, reaching out for you. But you managed to sidestep him as you sat down next to Noah and picked up a coloring book.
"I hope she's as much fun for you as I was on Saturday night," you said, biting down hard on your lip to keep from screaming at him.
You felt his presence behind you to the point you could almost feel the warmth of his body. But he didn't say anything, he just placed your coffee cup on the table in front of you, spinning it until the writing was facing you.
"Thanks for the coffee. I hope you find what you're looking for tonight."
You heard him swallow hard, and then he kissed Noah's head, and then he was gone. And you were left to color some dinosaurs with the kid you wanted to spend all your time with. Too bad his dad was sending you so many mixed signals, you felt like crying.
----------------------
Bradley felt like an asshole the entire time he was with Gabby. She seemed really sweet, but he couldn't stop thinking about what you said to him. As if you weren't what he was looking for.
In all actuality, you really were not what he was looking for. But you seemed to be exactly what he wanted. But wanting someone and having long term compatibility were two completely different things.
"So...." Gabby said for the third time. Bradley could barely focus on her or his dinner. "Tell me more about yourself, Bradley."
He started rambling on about work or some shit. He wasn't even really sure. This conversation was painful compared to the way you and he were together. Or at least the way you and he were before he started to fuck everything up between the two of you. The drunk kissing was bad enough, but the blowjob was just the nail in the coffin of the flirting with you that had him absolutely smitten in the first place.
Now Gabby was saying something about her job, and he couldn't handle it anymore. "Gabby? Sorry, but I think I'm just too distracted for this tonight."
She glared at him across the table. "Yeah, I noticed. I don't care how handsome you are if you're going to be rude. Pull your head out of your ass next time you ask someone out."
"I'm sorry," he muttered as she stood up to leave, and not a minute later, the waiter arrived with both meals.
He looked at Bradley cautiously. "Can you pack both of those to go? Please?" Bradley asked. He was going to have to leave this guy a hefty tip, but that was fine.
He had barely been gone for an hour and a half, and that included driving to the far end of the city. When he pulled into his driveway, he grabbed both meals, and made sure he called out from the front door. "I'm back."
You popped around the corner with Noah in your arms, and Bradley's heart leapt. "You're early," you said in surprise. "We're just about to get in bed." Bradley could tell how tired Noah looked, but he could barely take his eyes off you.
"Do you want to sing with us, daddy?" Noah asked with a yawn, and Bradley was of course drawn to the two of you like his life depended on it.
"Of course, bub." A minute later, Bradley was watching you tuck his son into bed while you sang a ridiculous song about dinosaurs that sounded made up. But Noah knew all the words too, and you were both laughing.
"Night, kiddo," you whispered, brushing his hair back from his forehead. Then you slipped past Bradley without another look in his direction. When he gently reached for your hand, you yanked yourself free and kept walking.
Bradley quickly kissed Noah, and then he was following you into the kitchen where you were packing up Noah's art supplies without a word. There was an open bag of Skittles on the table next to some of your textbooks, and Bradley didn't want you packing those things up. They looked like they belonged there.
He cleared his throat. "I brought dinner back for you. If you want it."
You laughed a little sarcastically. "I'm not eating another woman's leftovers, but thanks anyway, Bradley." You put your books into your tote bag, and Bradley took a step closer to you.
"Princess," he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed for a beat. He wanted you, and at times like this, he felt like you wanted him, too. "It's not leftovers. My date bailed before the food came out."
Your stomach growled when he opened the takeout containers, and you rolled your eyes. "Fine. I'm starving." He let you pick between the two meals, and you chose the one he had ordered for himself. He didn't care, he'd eat his date's food. He could barely even remember what her name was at this point, because you were plating and microwaving the entrees like you lived here.
"I'll just eat quickly, and then I'll be out of your hair," you told him, taking a bite of his filet mignon. Bradley settled down into the seat next to you. He wanted more than anything to talk with you, but he didn't know how. Not after what he let you do last time you were here. So he just took a few bites of food and watched you.
"Your date bailed early? What did you do?" you asked between bites of steak. Bradley watched your eyes flash with mischief. "Does she know what you did to get those free coffees from the barista?"
Bradley chuckled and shook his head.
"Oh my god, did you insult her after she told the waitress to hold the salad dressing?" you said, biting into your plush, glossy lip. Then your expression clouded a bit. "She didn't say something negative about Noah?"
Bradley scraped the last bite of his food onto his fork and finished eating. "No. Actually I didn't even get to mention Noah. And I have no idea if she ordered a salad. I can't even remember if I had a salad, Princess. I was so distracted all night."
"Why were you distracted?" you asked softly while Bradley took both plates to the sink.
He reached into the refrigerator and opened a beer, drinking half of it while he decided what he wanted to say to you. You popped a red Skittle followed by two yellow ones into your mouth, and the movement of your jaw took him back to Saturday night. His cock hitting the back of your throat. His hands on your jaw and your face. Those pretty lips wrapped around his balls.
"Princess," he groaned, and he watched you shove the last few Skittles into your mouth before jumping to your feet.
"Well, I'm going to head out," you said a bit breathlessly. "Oh, and thanks for dinner and for clarifying that these were not sloppy seconds."
Bradley set his beer on the counter and followed you out into his living room, your tote bag swaying along with your ass in your tiny shorts. "Fuck, Princess. Wait. Please?"
"What?" you asked, glancing back over your shoulder.
Bradley reached out and ran his fingers along your cheek inhaling the scent of wildflowers. "My date bailed, because I was awful. I wasn't paying any attention to her. I can barely even remember what she looked like."
You turned to face him. "What was her name?"
He shook his head. "I can't fucking remember. All I can remember is you. Even when I'm not with you. That's why she hightailed it out of the restaurant."
You pressed your lips together, but you didn't back away when Bradley stepped into your personal space. "You've been thinking about me?" you asked in barely a whisper.
"Nonstop, Princess. And you wanna know about sloppy seconds? Anyone else ever gives me a blowjob, and I'll be thinking about you the entire time."
Your lips parted on a soft gasp. "Oh."
He nodded, stroking his thumb across your lips. "Best I ever had. I already couldn't stop thinking about you, and that just made it a hundred times worse."
"Bradley," you whispered, pressing yourself against him. He didn't move as you eased yourself up onto your toes and kissed him. You nibbled softly on his lips and sighed, then looked up at him like you felt the same way he did.
It was so innocent, so fucking sweet. Or it would have been if Bradley wasn't wrapping both hands around your hips and licking the seam of your lips. You parted them immediately for him as your arms came up to wrap around his neck. Bradley tasted your tongue and grunted when he felt your fingers running through his hair.
He broke the kiss and let his hands slide down to palm your ass. "You taste like Skittles. I love Skittles."
You smiled up at him. "Sorry, I didn't save you any." Bradley planted his lips on the side of your neck and listened to you moan and dig your fingers in his hair.
"I don't deserve any, remember?" he asked, rubbing his mustache below your ear. "I'm a peasant. You're the princess."
You made a soft sound that went right to Bradley's cock as you guided his lips back to yours. "Last time you kissed me, you were drunk," you whispered to him before mashing your lips against his. You were pushing him, walking him back toward the couch, and Bradley couldn't help but go where you wanted him to.
He sat down a little hard against the cushions, his head tipped back to look up at you. "Yeah. I was kind of drunk. And that was a sin, because my memories are a little fuzzy. And you deserve to be remembered with crystal clarity, Princess."
"Do I?" you asked coyly, standing between his spread legs and clasping your hands in front of you.
Bradley reached out with his right hand and ran his knuckles up and down your thigh. "Listen, Princess. Your lips wrapped around my cock will fuel my fantasies for years to come, but right now I want my mouth involved as much as possible."
You were instantly climbing into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing your mouth to his again. Bradley welcomed you back into his arms like you belonged there. You peppered some kisses to his lips and mustache before you pulled away from him a little bit with a smile. You were irresistible, and he was grinning right back at you.
"Okay, go ahead," you told him, gripping his hair and tipping his head away from you. Bradley grunted as your little denim shorts rubbed against his pants creating some friction. "Try to kiss me better than you did after you were out drinking the other night. Because I thought it was pretty great, actually."
He let you tug his hair which was making him throb for you. "What do I get if I win?"
You moaned softly. "The satisfaction of a job well done?"
He shook his head. "Not good enough."
You laughed. "A pat on the back?"
"No," he said, stroking your cheek with his fingers and coaxing your lips closer to his. "I want a fifty percent share of all Skittles consumed in my house."
You gasped so theatrically, he laughed out loud. "That's scandalous. Twenty five percent, or I'm leaving," But you were inching closer and closer to him.
"Deal, Princess," he whispered against your lips, and now he found himself trying to outdo any kisses that came before you. It actually wasn't hard. You'd been his best the last time you were here. Now he wanted to be the best for you. He started off slow now, his fingers teasing along your cheeks and all over your neck. He knew his mustache was prickling along your lip, but you seemed to like it as you were grinding against him a little bit now.
Bradley made sure he was using just the right amount of pressure with his lips, always drawing you back to his kisses. The little sounds at the back of your throat were encouraging, as were your fingers which had dipped inside his shirt at the back of his neck.
He sucked gently on your bottom lip now as his hands found their way to your waist. He nibbled softly on your lip before releasing it, and he was so pleased to see he had kissed off all of your lipgloss. Now your lips just looked extra pouty, and your eyes were needy.
"How am I doing so far?" he teased, kissing along your chin and your jaw, eventually letting his lips settle on the front of your neck.
"You must really want those Skittles," you gasped, head tipped back as he worked his mouth against your soft skin. He sucked gently on you there, nearly thrusting against you as you rubbed yourself on him. "Oh!"
And then his hands were a little rougher, squeezing your hips and wrapping around the back of your neck. You leaned into him, clearly not afraid of what his body was demanding as he tasted your tongue and your teeth. He felt your hands on his chest and abs. He could feel your warmth against his cock as you rocked your body into his. He could feel your nipples, hard and rubbing his chest through too much fabric.
"Princess?" he asked, his lips brushing against yours.
"Yeah, okay," you said, gasping against his lips, kissing him between sentences. "You win. Twenty five percent of the Skittles. They are yours."
He kissed you, laughing against your lips. "That's really nice and all, baby. But I'd rather taste you right now?"
"Me?" you asked softly, putting a few inches between your mouth and his.
"I want to know if you taste sweet all over, Princess. Will you let me find out?" he asked, stroking his index finger along the zipper of your shorts. He was gauging your reaction to him as you bit your lip and tried to squeeze your thighs together.
"You want to go down on me?" you whispered, hands gasping along his abs.
He nodded. "Real fucking bad, Princess."
You licked your swollen lips and whimpered. "Okay, Daddy."
-------------------------
Bradley had been so sweet, his brown eyes like something from your dreams. His lips and his hands were all over you, turning you on and making you so wet. But now he wanted to taste you? Find out if you were sweet?
As soon as you called him Daddy again, he had the front of your shorts open, and you were lying on the couch on your back with his big body over yours.
A moan escaped your lips as soon as he eased his hand inside the front of your underwear and over your clit, and then his mouth was on yours, devouring you. You were making little noises against his lips as he stroked you just the way you liked to touch yourself. It was like he knew how crazy this would make you. And when his other hand ended up inside your shirt, pulling down your bra and stroking your nipples, you groaned his name.
"You're soaking wet," he said, rubbing his mustache along your jaw in time with his fingers as they worked their way down toward your opening. He teased you like that until you were begging him for more, your fingers tangling wildly in his hair.
"Please, please," you gasped, and then Bradley was sitting back a bit, his hard dick on display for you through his pants. He yanked your jean shorts down your legs and tossed them to the floor, followed by your lacy, white underwear.
"Oh, fuck me," he groaned as he looked at you, bare for him from the waist down, except for your socks and sneakers which he left on.
Then without hesitation, Bradley stroked his hands up the backs of your thighs, spread them wide and brought his mouth down to your pussy. He placed the softest kiss against you there, his mustache making you bite down on your lip in response to the sensation.
"Bradley," you gasped, feeling your lower back arch off the couch as he ran his tongue from your opening all the way up to your clit in one glorious swipe.
You should have been embarrassed by the way you were reacting to him. But he just looked up at you with his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently before he released you. "You're so sensitive, Princess," he grunted. And then he was running his nose through your wetness and kissing you everywhere. "And you taste so good."
This didn't feel like you expected it to; it felt so much better than that. Bradley's lips and mustache and his fingers and tongue. Everything he did had you gasping, crying out for more.
"I got you," he promised, spreading your legs wider every time you tried to squeeze them against his head. You were writhing against the couch now, simultaneously trying to pull yourself away from his mouth and also rub your clit against his nose for more.
"Oh god!" you groaned, loud enough that you should be concerned about waking up Noah. But you couldn't stop! Bradley was licking up and down your slit with sure movements and then sucking on your clit until you were practically in tears. Over and over again. Then Bradley was shoving his fingers inside you and kissing your clit before circling it with his thumb.
"You're getting loud, Princess," he whispered, guiding his body over top of yours again. You wrapped your legs around his hips when he kissed you with his wet lips and face. You were licking yourself off his lips when he asked, "You like how you taste? You're so sweet."
You could only whine in agreement as he pushed your shirt up and buried his face against your lace covered breasts. He kissed his way back down your body, and soon you were grinding against his face while he held your thighs.
"Oh, god, oh!" you gasped when he was licking and sucking again. You closed your eyes tight as your legs started to shake. And then Bradley pumped his fingers into you a little slower and sucked on your clit with a little more pressure, and you felt yourself clenching hard. You rode his fingers with your feet planted on his shoulders, and he looked up at you like he owned you.
"Daddy!" you cried out, enjoying what was quite obviously the longest and best orgasm of your life.
"Call me Daddy again," he demanded before sealing his pretty lips around your clit once more and sucking.
"Daddy!" you groaned, pulsing around his fingers. And then everything felt wet. Really wet. And Bradley's face turned to an expression of awe. And his face was wet, too. You sat up and looked down your body to where his fingers were still rammed inside your pussy. But the couch was wet. "What happened?" you asked, but his lips were on yours, and he was pushing you back down again.
"Princess," he groaned, still moving his fingers gently inside you, and now you were finally coming down fully from the peak of pleasure he had brought to your body. "Christ Almighty, baby. You're the sweetest fucking thing, aren't you?" He kept praising you, his lips all over your face. And when he finally withdrew his fingers and brought them up to his mouth, you helped him lick them clean.
And then he was gaping down at you, stroking his knuckles along your cheek. "What happened?" you asked softly. You didn't think your body would ever recover fully enough for you to speak louder than this, but you didn't care. Everything felt too good.
"You squirted for me," he replied, those big brown eyes roaming all over your face before he kissed you.
Oh. You still felt wet. You had made a mess on his couch. You could feel the warmth rising in your cheeks. "I didn't mean to," you whispered, suddenly feeling very shy.
"Was so hot," Bradley whispered next to your ear. "Princess." His lips on the shell of your ear and his hard cock pressing against your hip made you feel a little bolder. You tried to sit up, but he was huge on top of you.
"Do you want me to get you off?" you asked, reaching down toward him. But Bradley took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles.
"No. You've done plenty. You're a Princess, made to be worshipped." You settled back against the couch cushions and let him kiss along your neck until he had his fill.
-----------------------
Bradley helped you get dressed. Then he walked you to your car. Then he kissed you goodnight. And then he paid you for watching Noah which made him feel physically sick. You tried to push the money away, but he insisted. Then he went back inside into the bathroom and came hard after stroking himself three times to the thought of your pussy soaking his face.
He was a mess. A literal fucking mess now. He sat down on the bathroom floor. He had no idea what to do. But then he laughed out loud when he remembered how his night started. He had been on a date with some random faceless woman earlier, but his night had ended with his own face buried in your pussy.
This was not a good idea. None of this was a good idea. He needed to figure this the fuck out.
------------------------
Nice work, Bradley. Amazing effort. Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 9
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maannnn i love a good/shy girl and bad boy trope but that could just be my corruption kink talking…like you can’t tell me fontaine wouldn’t be absolutely obsessed
fontaine would be absolutely obsessed.
he first spots you hanging around with yo-yo, this after they all moved down to memphis, and he’s hooked. you heard about what they did back in the glen and though you’re amazed, you’re also kinda scared cause. . this nigga used to be a drug dealer and he still got them aggressive nigga tendencies 😭😭
so one day bout a week or two after he sees you he tells yo-yo and charles that he wanna get to know you. yo-yo’s face immediately scrunches up.
“her? nah, taine.”
“what you mean nah?”
“she kinda. . you kinda rough around the edges, nigga. you might scare her. she come from a good family. ion want her involved in our shit.” yo-yo laughs, shrugging fontaine’s interest in you off. she thinks her words will turn fontaine off.
but charles smiles from across the room at fontaine as yo-yo goes back to studying, cause slick knows fontaine ain’t giving up.
and he doesn’t. yo-yo should have known better than to invite you over and then not be there when you get to the house. when charles sees you outside he disappears into his room, tells fontaine “taine! that girl you was presssin’ yo-yo bout out there!”
fontaine immediately sets his blunt down and checks his face in the mirror, fixes his chain so it hangs just right and makes his way to the living room to open the door and welcome you in.
“yo-yo ain’ here right now,” he calls over his shoulder, and you peep the gold grills sittin' pretty between his even prettier lips. he plops down on the couch, spreads his legs in a way that has you wondering just when yo-yo was gon tell you about her fine ass friend.
“that’s fine. i’ll jus’ wait out here.”
“aight. you smoke?”
“yeah.”
“stay right here.”
you watch him walk away, watch his thighs in his lil hoochie daddy shorts, watch his walk that draws you in just a little more than already are, watch him gaze back at you one more time before he disappears into his room, something you definitely did not hallucinate.
tearing your eyes away from the space that he occupied before he made his way into his room, you sink back into the couch and take a breath. you cannot be doing this shit. that’s yo-yo’s homeboy. her fine ass, pretty ass homeboy, who offered you a blunt within 30 seconds of knowing you, who’s dick is definitely big, who yo-yo will just have to understand that you want, who’s coming back out of his room with the blunt and handing it to you to puff first.
fontaine sits closer this time, and chills settle all over your body. even with the weed spreading through you, you’re still a little nervous. shy, even, cause you can feel his eyes roaming your body, glued to the exposed skin of your thighs and the gloss on your lips, your hair and your bracelets— you can feel his eyes on you.
“how long you known yo-yo?” fontaine speaks first, passing you the blunt back.
“‘bout a week after y’all came down here. we met a’work.”
“mhm. you seen what we did?”
“yeah. shit was cool as fuck. y’all doin’ that here?”
“maybe. we think we found som’thin like back in the glen. we’on’t know yet.”
“yo-yo told me how y’all saved her, she said you was ready to fuck them up when she got snatched.” you laugh, eyes damn-near big red hearts as you gaze with heavy eyes at fontaine.
“i was. i care ‘bout her,” he shrugs, handing the blunt back to you.
“‘s sweet.” your tongue is heavy now, and fontaine’s a little close, and you know you shouldn’t want to kiss a man like fontaine but you really do want to.
shit.
the blunt’s halfway between your hand and fontaine’s when yo-yo busts through the door yelling “fontaine, nigga i swear to god you better not be in here tryna seduce my girl.” her eyes settle on you, and fontaine, and the blunt, and the smoke in the air and— “goddamnit motherfucker, i told you leave her alone.”
“ian doin’ shit yo-yo. jus’ talking.” he smiles snarkily, golds sparkling, cause everybody in the damn house knows he’s not just talking.
“she right fontaine,” you speak up, though in the front of your mind you wanna give him a chance. but he’s. . different. and you’re nervous. you don’t know if you can fit in with him.
fontaine’s silent. two sets of eyes fall on him.
“‘s whatever.” fontaine gets up, says goodbye and then he’s disappearing into his room.
“you knew fontaine wanted me?”
“yeah. but, you know, that’s fontaine. and you’re you. ion know if you can keep up with him.”
you leave it at that. it’s whatever.
xxx
. . well, it’s not whatever. cause why the fuck is fontaine’s mint green pontiac pulling up beside you on your walk home from work.
“what a gentleman,” you joke.
“had to make up for stormin’ off las’ week. i got you some shit.”
“you’on have to make nothin’ up. yo-yo right. we different.”
“and what that mean? that we can’t get to know each other?”
“gon’ on fontaine. you know what yo-yo said.”
“fuck what yo-yo said.”
you’re silent. thinking. contemplating. do you really wanna fuck with this nigga? you don’t know.
“whatever.” you scoff, though you don’t speed up and you don’t want him to drive off.
“jus’ lemme take you home.” you raise your eyebrows and tilt your head at the implications of his words. “your home.” he clarifies, and all it takes is a sigh and a “home. and that’s it.” from you and he’s hopping out of his car opening the door for you.
the ride to your house is fun. between fontaine’s goated ass playlist and the not-so-small talk y’all make, it’s a dream. fontaine’s not that bad at all. he’s a big-ass softie, but he will fuck someone up if they fuck with something he love.
and you’re not that shy when you’re comfortable, not all nervous when you don’t feel you have a reason to be.
when fontaine drops you off at your house, the air in his car hangs heavy with the unanswered question.
“lemme think about it ‘taine.” you speak before he does.
“okay. i think you cool for real. hope you gimme a chance.” he grabs the bag of snacks he bought you and hops out of the car and walks around the front, opens the door for you and walks you to your front door.
“thank you for the ride fontaine,” you smile at him. you don’t know why, but you grip his face and lean forward, and he’s meeting you in the middle and shit, you’re kissing him and he’s kissing you and your bags of snacks is on the ground, and fuck what yo-yo says cause goddamn his lips feel good on yours.
you both pull away. it’s quiet.
“imma take that as a yes.”
xxx
“thought you was shy.”
you wish you could hit this nigga in his mouth, but you’re currently between his legs with his dick down your throat, swallowing and gagging and looking up at him with teary eyes, your makeup running down your face.
“you ain’t fuckin’ shy. you nasty.”
you are. you’re nasty when you let him cum down your throat, and you’re nasty when you grind on his face, huffing out breathless laughs at the way he eats you out like he needs your taste to fucking breathe.
“taste so fuckin’ good, got a nigga goin’ crazy.”
you’re nasty when you turn around and prop yourself up on your hands and knees, slurring fontaine’s name while he digs so deep in your guts you see fucking stars.
“tried to hold out on me, give me all that shy shit, but you fuckin’ me like this now. i wan’t even tryna hear allat.”
and you are fucking him, good at that.
“knew from the second i seen yo ass. .” he trails off, too focused on watching where you hold yourself on display for his hungry eyes, on where he disappears into you, on the white ring that appears on his dick every time he pulls out just to sink right back in. you don’t speak, too caught up in how good he feels and how he makes you feel secure enough to take what you want.
and you are nasty. it’s only been a week since he drove you home.
xxx
y’all don’t tell yo-yo nor charles, but when yo-yo gets home and you and fontaine are a draped over each other on the couch and charles just smiles when she asks if anything happened, she knows. ain’t shit she can do, though, but shoot fontaine a death stare, one that tells him not to fuck you up. he nods, and she can tell he’s sincere.
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