#I really really love a good description of a smell could you tell?
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un jour c'est toi que je partirai
Notes: Howdy! ok so this is a filler chapter. this was originally gonna be chapter 3 buuuut the way I started it wasn't matching how I wanted the chapter to end. so pls forgive me lmao. I wanted to get something out to you guys bc I know it's been a while since the last chapter. I still don't know if i want this series to end before the next season comes out or not but I'm def gonna keep writing itttt
Warnings: cursing? she/her pronouns. mentions of suicide, idk if this should be a tw but description of a panic attack, carmy is a perv in this lowkey. masturbation. when I said philip, i was totes talking about lip gallagher. not too much happens in this. please let me know if I missed anything and thanks for reading <3.
masterpost
“Mikey killed himself.”
He couldn’t do it. Where are you, Carmen? His brother’s funeral was today. You’re supposed to be here. He’s sorry, but he can’t. What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? He still couldn’t believe it. Fuck, his chest was starting to hurt. He was getting sweaty, his hearing began to fade in and out, and he couldn’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe. He can’t stop the tears or the sob that tore through him. It echoed throughout his apartment. Fuck this shit.
He stood in disbelief as he looked upon the one restaurant that could have him shitting bricks. It looked old. And, familiar. And, not his, but absolutely fucking his now. Shit, he couldn’t fucking believe it. This fucking restaurant that haunted his dreams, that he spent his whole life chasing was officially his. He hurried to unlock the door and get inside. He hadn’t told anyone that he was back in Chicago. He wanted to embrace it on his own for a second. It still smelled the same, like Mikey and cigarettes, grease, bleach, and Mikey.
He looked at the picture frames, news clippings, and awards scattered across the wall. He was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. He hadn’t set foot inside this place in two years, and now his brother is dead and he’s standing in his restaurant.
He heard the bell ring and turned to see his big sister, “Carmy?” God, did he miss her. He missed them all, he really did. Even insufferable Richie and fucking Fak. And, Y/N. He hadn’t let go of the last conversation they shared. His one shot at true love and he’d gone and fucked it all. Whatever.
He walked over to Natalie, embracing her dearly. “Hi, sis.” He smirked at her as she gasped and swatted his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? I would’ve gotten you from the airport,” she said with a frown. He shook his head as he waved her off. He smiled up at her, genuinely smiling. “I wanted to surprise you.” “Consider me surprised. So, had a chance to take a look around yet?” He sighed and shook his head. “James told me the store’s not really in good standing?” Natalie let out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck no. I don’t know what the hell Mikey has gotten himself into, Bear.”
“You, uh, you know where he keeps the records and shit like that?” Natalie shook her head as she took a seat in one of the booths, “you’d have better luck asking Richie.” Ugh. Carmen loathed Richie. But, he tolerated him because he was family and Mikey’s best friend. “Have you seen him around lately?” “Yeah, I told him to meet me here so we could get a headstart on figuring out all of this shit.” Carmen sat in the seat across from Nat, “good. I bet he’ll have some idea.” Natalie nodded slowly as she thinned out her lips. “So,” she says as she clasps her hands together in front of her, “does Y/N know you’re here?” Fuck. She doesn’t know.
Honestly, he didn’t know if he should even tell her. Would she come to see him? Did he have a chance? He hadn’t seen or heard anything about her since Christmas dinner. “No, I haven’t spoken to her since Christmas.” He paused before speaking. “You know she told me she loved me that night?” Natalie had some idea of what was going on between them. Carmen, being the moody little brother he is, kept her out of his business as much as possible. And, Y/N tried to spare her the details for fear of grossing her out.
“And, what did you say?” “That I loved her too.” For the first time, he was honest. So honest that it scared him. When he thinks back on that night, it almost makes him want to vomit. She felt bad for her brother, this need for Y/N but being unable to do anything about it was eating him up inside and anyone could tell that he wasn’t alright. Pair that with grief and an existential crisis, she didn’t know how he was managing. “How is she?” He knows Mikey’s death couldn’t have been easy for her either. “She’s..coping as best as she can.” He’d love nothing more than to be with her in moments like these, ones that you know you shouldn’t be going through alone.
“She seeing anyone?” Carmen couldn’t help himself as he asked. Natalie hesitated before answering and that filled Carmen with such dread. “Um, some guy that she went to college with. I think his name is Philip?” He flinched like he was about to be hit. Now, he knows more than he’d like. “Are they like dating? Boyfriend and girlfriend?” Carmen wasn’t trying to pry information out of Natalie for his own personal gain, no way. He was simply inquiring about a friend.
“Why are you asking?” Natalie was suspicious of the younger boy. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was planning to shoot his shot with Y/N (eventually). It’s about damn time. He shrugged, “Just curious.” She nodded, not believing a word he said. “As far as I know, they’re not too serious but definitely more than friends.” He could only imagine what that meant. Were they already having sex? That was not his business. He needs to get a grip on reality. He nodded and began to stand, just as he was doing so, Richie rushed inside. They hugged and began their bickering immediately after. Natalie just chuckled and walked away.
Carmen was tired. So fucking tired. It hadn’t even been a full day and he’d endured so much bullshit. The ripping and running and trying to find a decent crew wore him out. He didn’t make it to his bed when he got to his apartment. Instead, he plopped down his couch. After a while, his mind drifted to her. He missed her. Fuck, when didn’t he? He found himself thinking about her constantly. What was she doing today? What did she eat? He was sure it wasn’t nearly as good as what he could make for her. She loved when he cooked for her, so he always did. Never did he allow her to even touch a cooking utensil. He never complained about it either. He loved it just as much. Maybe even more.
Then, he began thinking about her warmth. He missed it so much that he craved it. It had been too long since he last felt her. Or smelled her scent. He wondered if her lips still felt or tasted the same. Was her skin still as soft as he remembered? Why the fuck is he doing this to himself? It was too late as he felt himself straining against his pants.
He tried to ignore the lust that was creeping into his head. But, he couldn’t stop himself and he was getting harder the more he thought about her. She made him behave like a fucking pervert. He couldn’t take it anymore. He unbuttoned his pants and slid his hand inside his boxers. Pulling his cock out of his pants, he squeezed the base of it. This was fucking humiliating but it felt too good. He felt bad for thinking about her while doing this. But, he was doing it anyway.
He thought about her face as she was being pleasured, the sounds she’d make. He imagined it was him who made her cum. Just as she was beginning to reach climax, he was cumming all over his hand. He always came the hardest when he thought about her. The deep embarrassment was almost enough to make him never think about her like that, though. Almost. He cursed himself as he wiped his hand on his khakis. It was getting late and he figured he should get ready for bed. She never left his thoughts as he (finally) drifted to dreamland.
#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto angst#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x reader#the bear
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Can i request lando x fem!reader who always is moving in some way? like she has to be bouncing her leg or tapping her fingers, playing with her hair, biting her nails, cracking her knuckles, shaking her feet, rolling her ankles over etc.. or else she feels out of place. Lando gets confused because he notices how her movements stop when she is around him and she has to explain that she doesnt need to move with him because he makes her comfortable aka just super fluffy?
if not no worries, ik this is a very specific idea and so i was actually worried about requesting it because i was scared no one would understand what i meant due to this being a personal experience 😭
love you have a great day xx
Calm The Noise - LN
I love Lando's curls but there's something about his hair in this gif that got me kind of like...man is a son of Aphrodite (oh my god, next fic name?).
Y/n doesn't even notice she's doing it herself. The leg bouncing could maybe see as a matter of just boredom and keeping herself moving, but Jon had mentioned concern about her constantly cracking her knuckles and was almost alarmed when she was very obviously cracking her neck in a way that isn't healthy.
Lando hadn't noticed it because...he's never even seen her do any of these "nervous ticks" as Jon described them, trying to be as polite as possible about them but it's obvious that there was limited choice of description.
In order to figure out what was going on, Lando ended up starting to get sneaky when making y/n aware of his presence. He watches her bouncing her leg and bending her fingers to abnormal angles still she seems satisfied with the feeling of her joints popping.
"Hey, baby." Lando greets and like that, her body is relaxed and still rather than tense and restless as it had been. "Everything ok?"
"Yeah, everything is good." Y/n nods brightly almost a bright light compared to the persona she had without him there.
"You sure?"
Y/n deflates a little in a combination of confusion and feeling like she's missing something.
"Should things not be ok?" Y/n questions making him look at her for a moment then leaning in to kiss her.
"No, I just like to double check." Lando smiles with a small shrug while hugging her closely. "You'd tell me if anything wasn't ok?"
"Yeah, of course." Y/n nods still frowning a little before she takes in a deep breath and smiles a little.
-
It took a couple more occasions that he noticed she just looks almost uncomfortable until he's there and it's when talking to Oscar about it just to see if his teammate had noticed. Not that he expects Oscar to spend much time noticing what his girlfriend is doing.
"Maybe you just make her feel safe." Oscar shrugs not thinking much of his comment but it really strikes a chord with Lando.
"You think?"
"Maybe." Oscar states before Lando stands up and leaves. "Yeah, bye then!"
"Sorry, I got something I need to do. See you tomorrow mate" Lando calls as he disappears to get back to the hotel where y/n is sleeping still trying and deal with jet lag.
It's a Thursday and all the media duties are done. They've just sort of been doing all the extra bits.
Heading back, when he gets in y/n is curled up. Bundled in the thin sheets with what he assumes is requested extra blankets that she must've called the main desk to send to the room since he didn't see them earlier.
He sighs relieving himself of his clothes and smiling as he climbs under the covers behind her. His cooler body disturbing her peace, making her stir from the depth as he pulls her tighter against himself.
"You're back early." She murmurs not even needing to open her eyes.
"How'd you know it's me?" Lando questions making her smile a little, eyes still closed as she tries to keep herself above the surface of sleep while her body tries to drag her back down to sleep.
"I know how you smell." Y/n yawns deciding that the fight trying to stay awake isn't doing her any favours. So she keeps her tired eyes open and stops the fight.
"How do you know I'm back early?"
"You told me when you were planning to be back, so I set an alarm for 6." Y/n smiles while Lando feels his heart beat change it's rhythm at the thought that y/n would make sure she was awake for him to be back at 6:30 so they could get dressed and shower then head out for dinner. "So what are you doing back so early ruining my efforts to make sure I'm awake for your return?"
"Do I make you feel safe?" Lando questions making her roll over and look at him so quickly, the speed of her head initially whining around has to hurt a little.
"Ok, what is going on? Am I doing something wrong? You-You ask me like 5 times if I'm sure things are ok and now you're asking if I feel safe? Can you please tell me what's happening here?" Y/n questions looking distressed more than anything.
There's a bit of guilt at her reaction and he decides to just come clean about it.
"Jon kept telling me that you're always cracking your knuckles and your neck, which really freaked him out, and that you're always bouncing your legs. I didn't notice it then I started kind of stopping to see if you did and I noticed you only do it when I'm not there. Or you don't know I'm there."
"I do?"
"Yeah-There's nothing wrong with it, it's just something I noticed and I didn't want to mention it because I don't want you to over think it. Like you usually do." Lando explains while she huffs at the fact that he's right about the overthinking remark. "Anyway, I was talking to Oscar about it. He said it might be because you feel safe with me."
Y/n kind of goes silent thinking for a moment on it.
"Yeah...I guess I do feel safer with you than when you're not around." Y/n before watching him grin at her. "No need to look so beyond happy about it."
"I'm not sorry."
"Everything does feel kind of better with you around. It's like you mute out all the noise when I feel overcrowded sometimes." Y/n admits making him almost frown because he hates the thought of y/n letting her own mind be the main source of her discomfort.
"I'm here whenever you need me to calm the noise, baby." Lando smiles kissing her temple.
-
After confirmation that he is the person that makes her feel safe and settles any subconscious nerves.
Walking into the McLaren unit, y/n has been waiting for him to reappear after qualifying. She's actually in a conversation with Zak, which is a little bit of a surprise since usually Zak doesn't bother to involve himself with the drivers girlfriends.
She's nervous, for obvious reasons on this occasion.
But as soon as Lando's large hands clamp down on her shoulders she melts back into his touch with her body relaxing immediately and he's beginning to feel like he's got some super power that renders her completely calm.
Zak greets him and seemingly to y/n's relief he begins speaking to her boyfriend instead of focusing on her.
"Y/n, baby, you coming with me?" Lando asks leaning down to speak in her ear once Zak gets distracted.
"Yeah." Y/n nods smiling when he pulls out the chair as she stands and locks his hand with hers, kissing the back of it as they walk to his driver's room. "I don't think I've ever talked to Zak before...he just came and sat with me and started talking about how he was looking for to next season already and that he was happy you had me to support you."
"I think you've just got the Zak Brown stamp of approval." Lando jokes, though he actually feels like that was the CEO's way of noting that she seems to be a permanent fixture in Lando's life and if that's the case he wants to be welcoming to her.
#f1#fanfic#formula 1#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x y/n#lando x reader#norris#lando#lando norris one shot#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#ln4 fluff#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#mclaren f1#ln4 fic#mclaren#lando norris mclaren#mclaren racing#mclaren formula 1#ln4 one shot#ln4 x you#ln4 x y/n
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Forbidden Fruit
Description: The newest object of your affections happens to be Eddie; your father's closest friend!
A/N: this is just smut personified and I ain't even sorry. Enjoy it with caution, hells saving a mighty fine warm spot for you ;).
Warnings: age gap, Eddie's in his forties, reader implied 20s. Voyeurism, fingering, p in v unprotected sex (wrap the thingy, trust me I'm old)
5k words
Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Delicate fingers are slipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts. You stroke at your soft skin, running in teasing patterns. Your body begins to react to your secret touches, downy hairs starting to stand on end as your skin prickles with sensation. Then your hand drifts lower, lower, until it meets your pubic hair. Massaging your breast with your other hand you try to relax and empty your mind, just focus on the feeling. Not that it works. All you see when you close your eyes is Eddie.
This is wrong. So fucking wrong. He was at least 20 years your senior. Hell, he was one of your father's closest friends. It may as well be forbidden. He probably thinks of you more like a daughter than a lover.
You couldn't help it though. Recently he was just looking so damn fine. You're not sure if it was just him getting better with age, or you growing up and appreciating the man in front of you. Either way, woof.
Your fingers find your clit as you think back to earlier today; the events of which hadn't been much help in quenching your mounting feelings. It had been a lovely day, the sun was beating down and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Eddie and your father had teamed up to do some of the yard work. Eddie was always on hand to help with any manual labour, or to fix things. He was really very good with those hands.
Well, it was a beautiful day, so sunbathing seemed perfectly acceptable behaviour, and not an excuse to be in the yard at all. Nuh uh. You'd headed outside in your skimpy red bikini, book in hand, and laid on a lounger keeping one eye on Eddie.
God, he'd looked particularly good today. His hair was grasped in a messy bun with a shock of grey and white visible through it. His stubble looked a few days old, peppering his chin and sharp jaw. Those eyes of his sparkled, a deep chocolate brown you wanted to dive into. Jeans clung to his muscular thighs, only wearing an old wife beater on top, showing off his tattoos and chiselled arms. There was a brief moment when he'd lifted up his vest to use it to wipe the sweat from his brow. Abs had gleamed in the midday sun, flexing and taunting you on purpose, or at least it had felt that way.
When your father had gone inside to grab them both a beer, Eddie had sauntered over to you and crouched right by your lounger. You had done everything you could to keep your face neutral, even though your head was screaming and flinging its metaphorical hands in the air.
"Hey sweetheart."
The gravel in his voice sent shivers down your spine.
"Hey Mr Munson." You responded, trying to keep your eyes on your book.
"How many times I gotta tell ya? Call me Eddie."
You glanced over and saw a slow grin creeping across his face, as he eyed you up and down. Is he checking me out?
Tearing his eyes away, he spoke again.
"So, where's the little boyfriend today?"
"What? Oh, him. We broke up. He was… selfish" you reminded yourself of all those disappointing encounters, flicking through your mind like a magazine of the mundane.
His grin widened at that.
"Oh, that's such a shame."
He sounded so sincere, but that smile of his was certainly telling a different story. You found yourself looking at the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned. Probably thought he wasn't good enough for me, just like father said.
It was like he'd read your mind.
"He wasn't good enough for you anyway."
"You think?"
He'd leaned into you, as if telling a secret. You could smell him, lingering sweat, aftershave and cigarettes. Drawn to him, you'd sat up and moved a little closer. His words were a whisper in your ear, his hot breath on your neck making your heart beat just a little too fast.
"What you need is a real man."
Mouth falling open, you snapped your head to face him. A quick wink and he was back on his feet, smiling at your father who had just returned from the kitchen. He had walked off without a glance back.
You press your clit harder at the memory of his words, your other hand snaking its way into your top to tease at your hardened nipple. A real man.
Was he talking about himself? Or had he just been teasing you for your taste in boys? Either way, his words had made you wet, your thighs clinging together in supplication.
Fuck it. If he was on your mind you may as well lean into it. Your thoughts wandered, making up scenarios in your head, thinking of those thick fingers replacing yours. Your speed on your clit doubles, thighs squeezing together. It still wasn't enough. There wasn't enough pressure.
Pulling your hand away in a huff, your eyes land on a cushion on your bed. Hmm, now that just might do.
Clambering to your bare knees, you straddle it, positioning the seam to sit just where you needed it.
Now, this was better. You could almost imagine him underneath you as you humped at his impressive length. You assume he had a huge cock. Well, he did in your fantasies anyway. Pulling your top off and away, you tease at your sensitive nipples, one hand keeping the cushion in place.
So close, you were so close. The warm feeling was pooling in your belly, your clit humming with desire. Scrunching your eyes shut and whimpering, a particularly good rub had you moaning out "Eddie!"
Unfortunately, you had failed to hear the approaching footsteps.
"Yeah sweetheart?"
Frozen, you can only watch in abject horror as your bedroom door swings open and the object of your fantasies is standing in the door frame.
"Oh shit, I thought- did you just say my name?" He seems split between looking away and getting an eyeful.
Grasping the bed sheet you quickly cover up your bare chest, cheeks burning scarlet.
"Sorry." He adds, looking you up and down one last time, and finally swings the door shut.
Well that's it, now I need to move to a different state. Fuck fuck fuck.
"Hey, honey, come hear a sec!" Your mother's voice, ringing up the stairs. Trying to get the blood to diffuse from your cheeks with sheer force of will, you hastily scramble to put your top back on.
"Coming!" You shout back. Well, you nearly had. So fucking close.
Making your way downstairs past the bathroom you see your parents arm in arm, Eddie spread out on one of the bar stools in the kitchen. Practically feeling his grin from here, you focus on your parents.
"We're going out to dinner hon. Mr Munson here, well he was going to have a look at the cable. I can't get the damn thing to work. Sure you don't mind Eddie? Ain't you got somewhere else to be?" Your father looks towards Eddie with his question.
"Nope. Completely free. I'm sure I can fix it."
"Thanks buddy, you're a lifesaver. Hon, can you look after him? Make sure to give Mr Munson anything he needs."
Cheeks flaring again with heat, you mumble out your agreement.
"Thanks sweetie!" Your mother adds, planting a peck on your cheek. Then, they leave. It's just you and Eddie.
He begins to walk towards you. The walls suddenly seem too close, your skin itchy, hairs standing on end. He stops in front of you, too close for comfort. A rough hand reaches to you and you flinch. He quickly pulls it away.
"Well, better fix the cable." He smiles at you, and turns on his heel to the TV room, leaving you staring at his retreating ass as he leaves.
Maybe he's not going to mention it?
The thought seems too good to be true. You turn to leave, back the way you came, but a strange force is pulling at your gut. Pretty soon you're standing in the door frame of the TV room, staring at Eddie's ass as he bends to look at the cable box.
Fuck, that perfect ass.
He must have changed from earlier. Maybe he'd had a shower? He certainly smelled good. Staring at his back you notice his hair looked damp.
OK, so, ignore what happened. Eddie seemed to be. Act natural. Be a good host.
"Eddie, do you want a beer?"
He doesn't bother looking back, but you hear his deep voice say, "sure thing sweetheart."
Making your way back to the kitchen, you grab a beer for him and one for yourself, to steady your nerves.
Placing it on the coffee table, you let him know it's behind him, as you swig your own.
"Could you come down here sweetheart? I need a hand."
You fall to your knees beside him.
"Show me your hands?"
Confused, you hold your palms up.
"Perfect, tiny hands. Here." And he grasps one, swallowing it up in his large palm. The skin on skin contact is a shock to your system.
He pulls your arm gently.
"There's a cable right there, can you reach that?"
Sticking your tongue out of the corner of your mouth, you extend your arm, reaching into the gap he couldn't quite hit.
"Got it."
"That's it. Good girl." You suck in a sudden breath at his words, warmth simmering in your core. Eddie doesn't seem to notice.
He's adjusting some other cable, moving the network box to a better position as you stare at the veins in his neck.
"So, did you finish?"
"Huh?" Confusion floods your face as you scrunch your eyes at his words.
"Earlier, when I walked in. Did you finish?"
Your mouth hangs open. He mentioned it so nonchalantly, not even gaining eye contact. You're so shocked that you answer him without thinking about it.
"N-no."
"Shame."
What sort of alternative reality is this?
"OK, can you feel my hand? Give me that cable."
You pass it to him wordlessly, fingers brushing his ever so slightly.
"There. Should be fine now. Try the remote."
Turning the TV on, it does indeed work. You switch it off as Eddie sits back on his heels.
"It just wasn't wired correctly. Easy mistake to make. So, you need a hand?"
"Huh?" You sound out doltishly as he swigs his beer.
"Seemed like you could do with some help earlier is all."
Swallowing hard at his words, you feel your thighs clench and your heart race.
"Eddie, what are you saying, exactly?" Words spilling out a lot calmer than you felt.
"All I'm saying is, you looked like you could use some help. I reckon I could help you out. A lot more than a cushion, anyway." He says, a slow smile spreading over his face making your knees want to melt.
You stare and stare, momentarily lost for words.
"Come on sweetheart, there's a reason why you were moaning my name. We need to get whatever this is out of our system. "
You will your legs to move, to flee. They don't. They have their own agenda it seems, taking a shaky step towards him, and another. He's still kneeling on the floor, a slight smirk pulling at his face as if he has all the time in the world.
Your knees do buckle then, under the weight of his words, as you mirror his position. There's a slight gap between you, but you're closer than you think you ever have been. The air between you seems to hum with desire, an electric current buzzing back and forth.
Reaching out with hesitant fingers, you finally close the distance, resting your hand softly on his knee.
"I'm- I'm sorry that I, erm, said your name, it's so damn embarrassing-"
"Don't be sorry," he responds, his giant hand coming to rest over yours sending your pulse into overdrive, "that was the hottest thing I've ever seen."
"Really?" You can't help the disbelief dripping all over your tone.
"You're kidding right? I've been fuckin' hard for the last hour, I'm sure it's not healthy."
You giggle into your hand at his confession and move to look down, but his hand is on your jaw then, pulling your chin up.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, you know. We can just forget all this and I'll leave."
His stare is firm and sincere, but there's an undercurrent of need behind those eyes, one that's making the pulse between your legs hammer out a tattoo on your insides.
Before it even registers in your head, you're the one pushing toward him, drawn in by that stare. Your lips are crushing against his when you realise you had taken the leap and kissed him. Eddie's hand presses into the small of your back, pushing you bodily against him, the other snaking into your hair. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss his tongue begins to slide against yours. Never had a kiss felt so good, so sordid. You wrap your arms around his middle to steady yourself as he explores your mouth greedily.
A slam of a car door snaps you back to reality; pushing your body off him hurriedly you look around with wild eyes.
"Hey, sweetheart, it's OK. It's not them, it's too early for that."
You stop and listen, and realise he's right.
"Sorry."
"Hey, it's OK." He smiles, flooding your tummy with warmth.
"You wanna go and get comfortable, sweets? We can, well, just this once."
You nod and stand up wordlessly, leading him to your bedroom. Your pace is slow and measured as you walk up the stairs, belying the running commentary in your head.
Oh fuck, I can't believe this is happening. This is Mr Munson for fucks sake. Dad would absolutely freak. Oh fuck.
As you're closing the door, he's kicking his shoes off and sitting up on your bed. His rough demeanour and chiselled physique look so out of place, juxtaposed by the sweet pink bedclothes.
"Come here sweetheart, right here." He says, patting his lap. You move over to him, trying to work out exactly where he wants you.
"Knees either side, come on baby, I know you know how to straddle." His smile is dipped in sin, biting his lower lip slightly and flashing his teeth. You take a shaky breath and mount him, your thin sleep shorts barely covering your expectant pussy.
"Can you, um, take your jeans off?" You ask hesitantly, "I wanna feel you."
"Whatever you want baby, I'm here to help."
You sit awkwardly to one side as he wiggles his jeans off those perfect hips, giving you a teasing sliver of his lower abdomen to gawp at before he's gripping your hips forcefully and pushing your core down against his solid bulge.
"Hmm, nearly perfect," he says, giving you an appraising look.
"What's not right?" You feel your cheeks blush, waiting for him to point out some flaws you have.
"Well, I'm sure when I walked in earlier with you in this position you were topless."
An impossible amount of blood flushes your face, chest, neck. Eddie's thumbs trace calming circles into the flesh of your hips, catching the hem of your top and slipping just beneath.
Lifting your top up hesitantly, you move your arms up and away, discarding the clothing on the floor of your room.
Eddie's eyes are fixated on your nude breasts, letting out a slow breath. He holds your hips harder, fingers bruising into you.
"There. Perfect. You are perfect sweetheart. Such a good girl for me."
It's deeply pathetic, the noise that escapes your lips at his praise, but it serves to break the spell Eddie is under and forces him to look at your rosy cheeks and pouting lips.
"Fuck, you like that sweetheart?" He asks, large hands clinging to your hips, starting to grind you back and forth. His breathing is laboured, as if he's trying to hold himself together.
"Yeah." You say back, voice small, hiding under his studious gaze.
"Don't go all shy on me now baby. This good, yeah?"
You nod, mewling at the sensation. He's rock hard, and just the feel of his solid dick rubbing back and forth, hitting your swollen clit with each pass has your head spinning. Just two layers, two layers of flimsy fabric lay between him and you. Between him entering you.
"Talk to me sweetheart. What do you need?"
His eyes are searching yours, so eager to make you happy.
"Please, please play with my nipples."
A rough hum rumbles from his throat, hands creeping up to your chest.
"So polite. Whatever you need sweetheart."
Taking over grinding over his member, you feel your skin thrumming, heat bubbling in your gut as his hands begin to trace over your curves. His thumbs graze the underside of your tits with confident movements. Expecting him to start pinching at your nipples, it takes you entirely by surprise when he leans forward and takes one in his mouth, sucking hard.
Whimpering quietly, you grip his shoulders, willing yourself to be quiet. It's like Eddie can read your fucking mind. Unlatching from your nipple, he grabs your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your eyes to meet his.
"I told you. Don't be shy. It's just you and me here. I want to hear you. Every whimper, every fucking moan. I'm committing this to memory, so make it a good one."
A watery grin unfurls over your face, eyes tearing up unexpectedly.
"OK Eddie."
"Good fucking girl."
"Oh God-"
Before you're done moaning at his words, his lips are immersing your nipple again, wet and warm and rough; as he pinches the other with hardened skin fingertips. A thick tongue darts out, flicking back and forth over the hardened nub.
"Oh Eddie, oh fuck!" Your moans are loud and unashamed, your hips frantically humping over his turgid cock, clit swollen, nearing on sore.
His breath diffuses over the sensitive skin of your breast.
"See that's it baby, I know, I know. Keep going, use me."
Chasing your release your movements become almost violent, hands grasping onto his wavy locks and tugging hard. He groans at that, almost a growl. Teeth scraping your aching nipple, he unlatches with a wet pop and instead bites into the joining spot between your neck and shoulder harder than anyone had done before. The act was bordering on feral. An animalistic gesture, sucking on your flesh as if he was sucking the orgasm out of you.
It was working. The low simmering in your gut had bubbled over, threatening to pull you under into the deep depths of pleasure. You let it, screaming out his name as you lost breath, quickly losing yourself in the gaping depths of your release.
Slowing your frantic rocking movements, you finally slow to a halt.
"Feel better sweetheart?"
You hum, fingers tracing over the muscles of his toned arms. Your pussy hasn't gotten the message however, clenching around nothing. Your walls are pulsing, wanting to clench onto something, anything.
"Yeah I'm good."
"Don't lie to me."
Gasping at his hard words, you look into his eyes.
"If you're done I'll leave-"
"No!" You shout, gripping him harshly,
fingernails embedding into his skin. This can't be over, not yet.
"See?" He laughs, almost mocking you, "if you need more, say so. I want to help you. What do you need?"
"I-" fuck why is this so difficult? "I need, I need something inside me."
"See? Was that so hard? You want my fingers baby? I'll make you come, as many times as you need."
You nod enthusiastically, slipping off his lap. He turns you to the side suddenly so your legs are draped over his. Firm, smooth strokes rub up, up, up your thighs making you quiver.
"Take these shorts off. I need to see that pretty pussy of yours."
Wiggling out of them, they land on the floor in a heap.
"Fuck. Spread your legs a little."
It isn't in you not to comply. Your knees fall open, entirely exposed.
"Well, look at you. Fucking perfect." A rough hand slots between your legs, two fingers rubbing the length of your pussy.
Leaning back on your hands, your back arches into his touch, hips moving upwards to meet each stroke.
"You really want this? You want me to fuck you with my fingers?" His movements are tantalising and slow. Your body begs for more, more.
Nodding at him, you soon see it's not enough.
"Use your words sweetheart." Fingers whisper across forbidden skin, circling around but never touching your clit.
"Oh God please, please I need you, please fill me up!" All modesty forgotten.
"Fuck, yeah that's it, hmm" you feel his fingers swipe your wet lips, about to go deeper. Leaning forward, he angles his head towards your cunt, and spits, hard.
Holy fucking fuck.
That act had you clenching all over again, rocking into nothing.
"Oh she likes that! Dirty girl."
He smiles his approval and gathers your combined wetness, two fingers diving deep inside you. It's aggressive and rough and entirely what you've been craving.
"This what you wanted baby? My fingers filling you up? Fucking into your cunt?"
His words are filthy, switching something inside your head you weren't aware of until just now.
"Yeah, fuck please, stretch me out, I fucking need you baby, please please please!"
Your tiny hands are gripping onto him, desperately seeking him, digging into skin and flesh.
"Oh you are so hot. Keep begging, I like it." His salacious grin pours over his features, fingers working you roughly, nestling into a spot inside that had your toes curling. Your breathing is heavy and ragged, as his other hand slaps harshly against your thigh.
"I said beg."
His ministrations start to slow.
"No, don't stop! Please, oh fuck please, I need to fucking come Eddie!" Your eyes seeking his with a desperate gleam, toying with your features.
"Yeah, that's it sweetheart, fuck," and his hand lands a hard smack against the side of your ass making you shriek.
"You're a dirty girl, aren't you?" His fingers continue, setting a brutal pace, each stroke reaching your g spot pathetically easily.
"Yeah, oh yes, for you I am."
A thick tongue runs up the side of your neck, pushing his fingers harder, deeper.
"Oh Eddie I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, don't stop!"
"Not stopping, not even if you paid me. Come for me sweetheart."
Your hips betray you, rubbing against his fingers as hard as they can, desperately seeking your second release.
They don't have long to look. Suddenly it bursts around you, popping in your head like a firecracker of feeling, pulsing out of you in waves. Your fingers wind into his hair once again as your orgasm floods your system, hands almost frightened of being swept away.
You knew he was good with his hands but fuck, his words were something else.
"Oh my God that was incredible." You stutter out, legs still trembling.
"I aim to please. You good now baby?" His fingers whispering over your arm, catching your nerves, making quivers run over and over you.
If I'm good, he's gonna leave, and that will be it. Fuck, just don't want it to be over.
"No. I need you to fuck me. Just this once. Please. I- I need you to cum inside me."
"Shit sweetheart, you want my fuckin' cock? How could I refuse such a sweet good girl."
Laying you down against your many pillows, he stands, ridding himself of his shirt and pants.
Oh fuck, just look at his cock.
It's swollen, throbbing against his slickened pubic hair, wetted by your own juices. Licking your lips impulsively, you spread your legs wide, wanting to guide his hips between yours.
"Fuck that's a pretty dick. So fucking big."
He looks at you, quirking an eyebrow.
Oh fuck you just said that out loud.
"Yeah? You want it? You want me?"
He's smiling, stroking at his throbbing length, making an emotion akin to jealousness bloom in your chest.
"I need you Eddie."
He climbs between your thighs again, letting another glob of spit fly from those perfect lips of his.
"Oh!" You moan eagerly, writhing beneath him.
"You are perfect, aren't you? Fucking filthy and ready for me." The head of his swollen member nudges your soft opening.
"I'm on birth control, please just fill me up."
"Oh fuck you're gonna make me bust if you keep on like that." The words are admonishing, but he sounds impressed.
His weight dips onto the mattress between your legs, making it sink dramatically. You grab his relatively narrow hips, your slender fingers forcing his body between yours. You need him inside you, now.
The fat, leaking head of his cock rubs against your intumescent lips.
"Fuck me Eddie, I need you, please fuck me!" You blabber, fingers flexing hard against his hard muscles.
The mushroom head of his turgid cock pushes against your sodden opening. It breaches you then, forcing its way into your soaking lips.
Pushing harder and harder into your deepest depths, you whimper, walls quivering around his fat length.
"Eddie, oh God Eddie!" Your moans are unrestrained and throaty, him rubbing against the spot that makes you wobble inside.
"You wanna come again? So fucking greedy sweetheart." You expect those words to have bite to them, but he's grinning, forehead nearly touching yours as he hikes your legs around his middle.
You hump at him recklessly, hips thrusting against his waist as hard as you can.
"Oh my fucking God, fuck!!"
You release hard, wetness squirting over Eddie's imposing length as you moan hard and loud.
"Hey honey, we're home!"
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
Your eyes flick wildly to Eddie. It doesn't help that he seems amused, chuckling a silent laugh into your skin.
"I've, I've gone to bed, see you in the morning!" You cry out desperately, hoping to heaven, or hell, that they listen.
"Eddie fix the cable?" You hear your mom call out up the stairway.
"Yeah he's, he's really good with his hands!" You shout back, Eddie's body shaking with silent laughter over you, the arms caging your head trembling with barely contained amusement.
"Great news, night honey!"
You grip Eddie's shoulders as hard as you can as you listen for the minute changes in air. There it is, mother and father both going to bed.
"Fuck that was close." You huff, releasing your titanesque grip on his shoulders.
"But I'm not done sweetheart."
He thrusts hard and deep against you, his impressive member rubbing against that sweet spot yet again.
"Eddie, you can't, fuck-"
"Oh I can. You just need to shut up." He grins quietly, holding your body close to his.
"Oh Eddie, oh-"
"Shhh, fuck sweetheart, shut the fuck up." He whispers urgently into the skin of your neck. Your mouth forms a perfect 'o', wiggling against him ardently.
He releases his cum into you with a hard, shuddering thrust, throbbing and throbbing out of him. It pumps inside you, pushing you to the edge of coming yet again.
Eddie knows.
Grinning wickedly, he latches his teeth to your nipple again and sucks hard. Moments later you feel your release explode from your core, dampening your bed sheets in the process.
Thrumming against him, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, you manage to coax your breathing to a normal level.
"I hope that's everything you wanted sweetheart, 'cause it aint happening again."
Before you can protest, Eddie is leaving the warmth between your thighs and aiming for the window, so no one suspects what just happened between you two. A few sure movements and he disappears, however reluctantly, into the night. Leaving you huffing, and panting, and wanting.
@eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiethefreakkmunson @munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiemunsonfuxks @eddiesprincess86 @corrodedhawkins @eddiethefreakkmunson @indouloureux @icallhimjoey
#ms gexy writes#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie x you#eddie x reader#eddie munson fluff#older!eddie#eddiemunsonsmut#eddie munson older#older eddie munson#eddie older#stranger things x reader#stranger things#stanger things#stranger things smut
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Jungkook
𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Intro🔞
Unrequited love can be oh-so painful, especially as a hopeless romantic like Jeon Jungkook. You're supposed to just momentarily soothe his aching heart and take his mind off of things- but something about you just draws him in...
Tags/Warnings: Punk!Jungkook, strangers to lovers, Stereotypes, description of Unrequited love, romance, accidental flirting, some angst, major fluff, smut
Length: 2k Words
There is no taglist for this fic.
A/N: this was supposed to be an angsty oneshot. Thanks to @euphoricfilter I decided to make it a softer series instead.
-> Masterlist
♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥
Jungkook doesn't really know you.
He knows that you don't like wearing pants, which is why you wear a simple cotton dress tonight despite the weather outside. You layered a sweater over it, and you wear fluffy overknee socks and boots- everything cute, a little oversized, giving you an overall soft appearance. He also knows that you don't really want to be here, that you accompanied a friend but that she went to make out with some boy she had her eyes on the entire night. And he knows your age, your name, and that you have a very nice voice.
A voice currently whimpering against his ear, as he holds your thighs to keep you propped up against the wall while he thrusts his hips into you. He didn't really think much of it when you suggested this, and he definitely didn't think much of it when he agreed- after all, looks are just looks, down the line, and just because you don't look the part doesn't mean you can't be a little wild.
What he did not expect was for you to turn out to taste so sweet- the entire ordeal of just a quick fuck feeling like something much more than he's used to. You're supposed to just take his mind off of his long time crush currently probably getting railed in the car outside- and you're doing much more than that.
It’s like you’re giving him something entirely new to think about. Like you’re someone capable of filling her place in his head.
Your hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into his leather jacket. The warm skin of your thighs, feeling just so good in his hands. And not to mention that clench of your core around his length, making him feel sensitive even despite the condom he wears.
"What if you just find someone else, too?" You'd wondered at him at the bar earlier, cheek a little squished as you rested your face on one of your hands, looking at him. "She clearly doesn't want you from what I can tell. So stop pining after someone who doesn't see you." You'd boldly stated, throwing the bucket of cold water over his head- shaking him awake, in a way, because no one's really put it out in the open like that to him up until you. It's tough to hear it, but it's the truth- and you're right.
He needed a distraction. And you seemed to be the perfect opportunity.
Lucy had always kept him close- dangling him from a string in front of her heart, never letting him reach it- because it had always been closed off, her interest more in what she could gain from him, and not what she could give him as well. She clearly only really kept him close so he could do things for her- help her move, build up furniture, take care of her cat multiple times a week, even buy her things. Jungkook paid for her rent for half a year- simply because he wanted to show her that he was in it with a full and honest heart.
He wanted her to see him. But just like you said, she doesn't. Because she doesn't want to see him. She doesn't want him.
"And where would I find someone else?" Jungkook had asked, eyes finding yours as you'd shrugged.
"Can't promise you a mind-blowing experience-" You'd told him, one of your legs moving forward to playfully kick his boot. "-but I'm right here."
And right here you are.
You smell really nice- he realizes that as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, your skin flushed and hot against his lips. He's not sure why he feels almost guilty taking you like this- you seem more like someone who deserves a romantic date night and then a good long slow-fuck in an actual bedroom, not some underground club storage room. You're currently single, and he knows that from you as well, but he's sure that you won't have any trouble finding someone in the near future.
Though the thought of it makes him a little.. Upset, almost. Jealous?
"You close?" He growls into your neck, and you simply nod in response, making him chuckle. You seemed so nonchalant about the whole thing, but you're actually kind of cute in this moment. He's, despite his looks, not one to usually do these kinds of things- he's a romantic, even if it's more of an unconventional one. He craves something real and authentic, something that knocks the breath out of his lungs and swallows his heart whole.
Huh.
Maybe under different circumstances, you could've been just that for him. He can imagine falling for you if you'd met sooner, or in a different situation- you seem very nice, with a laid back personality added to it. Your pretty face and pretty body is just an added bonus- and he feels a bit disappointed knowing he'll never see you fully nude.
What could you be hiding underneath those clothes?
For sure something to be worshipped, a body meant to be made love to and not this right now. But you're already at the end, as he bites his lips and pushes you over the edge, your fingers clawing at his leather jacket as you weakly whimper out in pleasure, his own high a lot softer than yours. That doesn't mean it's any less fulfilling- in fact it's a pretty damn good one, drawn out, making the muscles in his thighs stutter a bit as he holds you up for a bit longer, before he slowly sets you back down to your feet.
You avoid looking at him now. He wonders if you regret it.
But is that really any of his business?
"Okay?" He asks, much to his own surprise as he helps you stand, music dull, bass almost the only thing you can both hear as he strips the condom off and finds some tissues to clean himself up- giving some to you as well. You take them silently, and clean yourself up, watching him throw everything into a trash bin nearby. It's only now that you seem to take a look around the small storage room you're both in, before you pull up your underwear, cringing at the odd feeling in your legs. "You good?" Jungkook chuckles- but you still don't look at him, simply nod before you seem to adjust yourself. How do you really feel about this?
It's none of his business. So why does he feel like it is?
"Do you.. I don't know, do you want me to drive you home?" He wonders. "If your friend isn't back, I mean." He adds, and you shrug.
"Yeah." You tell him almost indifferently, before he nods, and leads you back outside, music suddenly loud and clear again. "but.. I think I can see here over there." You mumble, as Jungkook adjusts the back of your clothes for you, something he didn't even notice doing until his hands were already on you. There's something.. odd about you. A strange attraction, almost.
He's not sure if it's just post-sex-attachment, or if it's genuine interest.
“She seems awfully... occupied though.” Jungkook chuckles, watching together with you how she pretty much doesn’t seem to care that she’s basically getting undressed by the guy on the dancefloor. “I’ll wait with you at the bar if you’d like.” He suggests, and you shake your head, visibly disappointed.
“No.” You deny. “Just..” You pull your little bag a little tighter over your shoulder. “..I changed my mind. Take me home, please.” You ask without looking at him, and he nods quietly, a hand on your shoulder leading you outside.
His car is a little old, but the interior is clean and smells nice. He instantly turns the heat on, making sure you’re comfortable, radio playing quietly in the background while you click your phone into the holder, the navigation app having started to show him the journey to your home. “Oh? We don’t live that far apart.” He notices, as he pulls out of the parking lot in front of the club. “I live near the subway station, where that weird store is. The one where that old lady sells healing crystals and shit like that.” He attempts to smalltalk, and you nod.
“Yeah, I know that one.” You answer. “My mom used to be friends with the woman that owns the shop..” You shrug.
“Oh, cool.” He offers. “I don’t really believe in that stuff, but each their own.” He tells you.
“I don’t believe in it either.” You admit. “But my mom does, so I just.. Pretend I do. I don’t like to fight with her.” You say, looking out the window to see it starting to rain a little.
“You seem like someone who doesn’t like arguments.” He chuckles. “Which is a compliment, by the way.” He makes sure to underline. “Can I ask why you.. Seem so sad right now?”
“Sure you can.” You say, before you look back at your hands in your lap. “It’s.. She does it a lot. My friend, I mean.” You admit, before you sigh. “I feel like she’s just.. I don’t know. Like I’m just a placeholder, good enough when there’s no one else around.”
“Hm, I get what you mean.” He answers. “Some people are shit like that. My mom used to marry and divorce like she was aiming for a world record.” He laughs easily, stopping at a red light. “Some people just can’t be alone. It eats them up- so they take whatever company they can, and love too easily.” Jungkook explains.
“But where’s the love in that?” You mumble almost too quiet for him to catch, looking out the window again where two children run through the rain after what you believe might be their mother holding a yellow umbrella.
“For some, that’s love.” He shrugs. “It’s different for anybody. My definition of love probably is different from yours, and that’s fine too.” He offers.
“I don’t even know.. What it is.” You sigh, defeated in your tone. “I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.”
“You’ll know when it happens, trust me.” He tries to lift your mood. “Maybe we can.. I don’t know. Stay in touch, hang around together. I promise I might look like it but I’m not involved in any drug-related drama.” He laughs. “But all you need might just be a good friendgroup, a nice social circle. And I promise my friends are all cool, even though they’re all guys. They’re all in relationships- well, apart from me, but you know why that issue exists.” He chuckles.
“You shouldn’t let her use you anymore, you know?” You say quietly, as the surrounding area outside the car becomes familiar. “You’re.. Too nice for someone like that.” You say, as he parks in front of the apartment building your phone exclaims is your destination of choice. You reach over to take your phone from the plastic holder, when you notice Jungkook watching you intently, before he speaks.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and you look at him with wide eyes, interior lights of his car reflecting in them, making him even more eager to find out how it’ll feel like if you gave him the chance. You shrug, before you nod, visibly confused, while his eyes roam around your face, as if they can’t decide what feature of yours to focus on.
Everything looks too magical right now. Like some cheesy romantic drama.
He’s not sure if he likes it or not.
But as his hand reaches out to help angle your face right to place his lips against yours, he’s surely enough made his decision, sweet lipbalm of yours fruity on his tongue as he fails to keep his cool, leaning over further, both of your eyes closed as you get lost in the whole action- though he finally has to break free, the moment enough to cut the spell you both have been under.
“Well fuck me.” He starts to laugh. “Now I’ll definitely need your number.” he jokes, as he takes out his phone to do just that, your fingers typing in the numbers of your phone, your heart still racing in your chest.
All while his words keep repeating in your head.
'You'll know when it happens, trust me.'
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagine#bts jungkook imagine#bts smut#jungkook fanfic#bts jungkook fanfic#bts jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagines#jeon jungkook smut#jeon jungkook fanfic
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all my life i've been frozen, forgive me if i wince at your warmth; kiss my blue lips and say the frost brings out my eyes.
jd6 x reader: maybe roommates wasn't the best idea (sugar pt. 2).
(warnings: blasphemous filth (we're back, and this is a good one), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (f on m), hair pulling and spit and all my usual stuff (you guys know. legs and lips and all that nonsense). lots of whining and whimpering from the ducks defenseman with the giant traps. descriptions of general insecurity (but of course!). know yourself and your limits, please don't read if you're not 100% sure).
(a/n: alright, my favorites. here you have it, the promised continuation of my jd6 sugar piece from halloween (so please read that here first so this makes sense)! and yes, it's long (11.1k), so thank you, as always, for your support and kindness and patience and gentleness. congratulations to jd6 for his return to the big leagues. this is his prize, i'm sure he'll be thrilled. it appears it's impossible for me to write a story without using tz11 as a comedic side character. obviously there is nothing realistic about this, such is the upside of fictitious writing. can you tell i had an idea for like two scenes and then filled in all the blanks? (been wanting to write gaming chair head for a million years). if you relate to the more serious insecurities addressed within this story, know i'm here for you. please believe that it is so utterly and completely fathomable that people are and will be attracted to and interested in you! anyways, please let me know what you think (and who/what you want next)! go canucks (and all-star qh43). until next time, all my love).
it had taken little convincing on either side for jamie to move in with you. it was sort of funny, how not so long ago, it had been only you in your apartment, and now he was there, too, evidence of him all around.
a few months in, you had almost forgotten what the fridge looked like without his recovery drinks lining the shelves, what the living room smelled like without his favorite candle burning, what the mudroom looked like without his shoes and bags littered around the door.
you had grown accustomed to him, in his entirety, and the more he revealed about himself, the more trouble you had remembering what this place had been like without him.
it seemed so crucially important that you knew about his culinary endeavors (he was trying ever so hard to branch out beyond chicken and rice). it seemed of the utmost significance that you understood all of his favorites of everything, and that he knew all of yours in return. because if you didn't, one of you might bring home a flavor of ice cream the other didn't like, or flowers the other didn't like the color of, or something like that.
and if he didn't know the names of your favorite movies, how would he be able to talk to you about them? and if you didn't have a little bit of a grasp on the gaming world, how could you keep up when he rambled on about it?
you told yourself it was only polite that you knew about his interests, and his family, and his friends, and his dreams. that he was only being polite when he asked about all of yours.
you were sort of shocked at how quickly he had made his presence known within your routine. his schedule merged with yours on the calendar attached to the fridge. his friends came over to play video games, yours to watch movies.
you were proud of yourself for how you had handled his moving in, really, but you'd be lying if you said he didn't have an effect on you. he was the same blushing, stuttering, beautiful boy who had dropped that plant in your doorway, after all.
and you were acutely aware of the effect he had on you, from that very first day. he didn't seem to let you forget it, like the night, a few days into your new arrangement, when you went into the kitchen around midnight to get a glass of water.
something you had done, time and time again, almost every night, alone. so you were startled, to say the least, when you felt a figure behind you. you whipped around, your heartbeat elevated, thudding in your chest, in your neck.
you placed a hand over your heart to still yourself when you recognized that shaggy dark hair, square face, broad build.
"fuck, jamie," you practically whispered, your voice tense, "you scared me." you made to pour him a glass of water, willed your body to emerge from danger mode.
"'m sorry, petal," he murmured, and his tone alone could have set your body ablaze, rumbling through you like an earthquake. "didn't mean to." apology thickened his words like cornstarch.
"'s okay," you said as you passed him the glass, took a sip from your own.
if it was light you would have seen his eyes track the motion, how his gaze seemed to get stuck on your lips around the rim of your glass.
there was something very heavy about sharing this space with him, especially now, in the cover of the night. you felt freer, almost indulgent, in taking him in. less guilty in your secret wanting. suddenly your brow furrowed in concern. "did i wake you up?"
he shrugged, took a sip of his water, which made your swallow shaky. "walls are thin," he rasped. "just wanted to make sure you were okay."
your exhale was shallow as you took in his words. this exchange in the dark was too dangerous, too much. you made to go back to your room, stopping to place a wanting palm on his corded shoulder as you passed him. you felt him flex instinctively under your touch, suddenly wanted, simultaneously, to be anywhere but here and to never leave. "thanks for checking on me, jamie," you whispered. it seemed to have been so long since someone had done that.
there was a pause full of uncertainty. "'course," he replied, rough and rolling.
you were so, so, close, and such a predicament could have ignited the foundation of the building in all of its seriousness.
that exchange, so early on in knowing him, nonetheless had you promising yourself that you wouldn't let your relationship with jamie grow beyond anything besides roommates. just roommates, you said, and that's it. anything past that boundary was too dangerous, too charged, too soaked in meaning and feeling and wanting.
but such a promise was proving hard to keep, even months later. because as comfortable as you had grown to each other, there was something so deliriously uncomfortable about being so close to each other, so ridiculously entwined in each others' days, and yet not touching, not indulging the desire you both so felt. so scared to look desperate, to be caught red handed in want, even if that was exactly true.
regardless, such a promise was proving hard to keep, especially on days like today.
you were sitting at the kitchen counter, one leg pulled up to your chest as you sat on a stool. you still worked at the same coffee shop, and you still loved it, but you had picked up some copywriting jobs here and there, too.
naturally, you looked up when you sensed another figure enter the room. your gaze caught on a very sleepy jamie with a very sleepy smile.
"morning," he said, his voice rough and raspy with remnants of night.
you felt your mouth tick upwards in response to his presence. "morning, jamie," you replied, shifting on your stool, willing jittery attraction out of your voice, out of your head. there was no space for that here, you told yourself. you cleared your throat as he made himself a cup of tea. "doing anything fun today?"
he turned to you, leaned his frame back against the counter, a movement so comfortable it made you blush. he hummed, thinking, before meeting your eyes. "nothing out of the routine," he mused, his gaze on you making you feel his attention in your feet, in the tips of your fingers. "when're you working? maybe i'll swing by."
your chest thumped at the thought of him taking time to come see you, even though that wasn't necessarily rare anymore. he visited your coffee shop at least once a week, but the sentiment of it all wasn't lost on you. the preciosity of someone deeming you worthy of a drive, however short.
you leaned on your clasped hands, scrunched up your nose in gentle pleasantry. "two to close, today," you told him, "but you don't have to come."
his eyes softened ever so slightly, his expression all maple syrup and pancakes on a lazy sunday morning. "want to, petal," he told you, taking his mug and starting back towards his room. "give me something to look forward to, eh?"
you were glad to hear his door swing shut behind him, if only so that he didn't see your face scrunch up further in guilty delight, at being his something to look forward to.
if jamie had settled into being your roommate, your favorite coworker had not settled into that fact. or maybe she had settled in, but it didn't appear that she would be giving you or him a break anytime soon.
it had only been a couple of months, and she had yet to go a day without bringing him up, nevermind going a visit without saying something you were sure would embarrass him.
as promised, after his workout and skate, the bell above the door jingled. you swore the sound was louder, more jubilant when he opened the door than any other patron.
he's here, the bell seemed to sing, finally, finally, he's here! you fought the urge to shush the inanimate object.
"well, well, well," your coworker said, wiping down the counter, "honestly, 6, i'm shocked you had any time to stop by, given your packed schedule of not shooting the puck."
you shook your head at her. "don't be mean, lovely," you chastised. you locked eyes with jamie, molten chocolate and stained glass. "i'm sure you shoot just enough."
his returning grin was carefully confident. "right as always," he told your coworker, "if we had a coaching opening i'd put in a good word."
this quickly spurred your coworker into a heated rant about how poorly the coach of the ducks was handling his roster full of young talent.
you began the process of making his drink, the one he insisted on ever since that first day. he had told you before that nothing could possibly be better than your fall themed treat. as you shook the maple syrup and espresso with ice, you missed the way a flush dusted across the bridge of his nose, like a day out in the sun.
your coworker did not miss this, however. she smirked, tilted her head. "a bit hot in here, drysdale? you look a little flushed."
he shot her a look, one which she mimicked before you turned to hand him his drink.
"here you are," you said as his hand closed over yours around the to-go cup.
your mind sparked and sputtered at the feeling of his warm hand over your fingers. he could have grabbed under your hand, the hopeless romantic in your head screeched. he could have avoided your touch, but he didn't!
but you had long ago resigned to refusing to listen to the hopeless romantic, in all of her desperate and shameful loveliness. you couldn't trust her, you had learned. she only ever left you feeling lost and longing.
so you silenced her, ignored her big, teary eyes as you dismissed her for the thousandth time, pulled your hand away.
"thank you, petal," he said, so genuine and sweet, so exactly him. it seemed cruel that you still weren't used to him, to his kindness, that he was still evoking this kind of response from you.
your only solace was that he didn't seem to be finding it especially easy, either, if his flickering gaze or flexing hands were anything to go by.
"you're welcome," you replied. "headed home now?"
he hummed in affirmation, rocked back on his heels. "when will you be home?"
you could have sighed at just how domestic it all was, like some kind of sixties fantasy. honey, i'm home! echoed in your head.
but you shut that down as quickly as it appeared. "why?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, "expecting company, or something?" your mouth quirked. "maybe a girl?"
he paled, and you were surprised at your nerve, too. you didn't really know why you were doing this, why you would ask. you and jamie didn't have that kind of relationship, and why would you ask that anyway, when you knew for a fact one of the possible two answers would cut through you like a warm knife through butter?
thankfully, your coworker broke the tension with an exaggerated laugh, actually slapping the counter before looking up and clocking both of the confused looks turned her way. "oh," she said, looking between the two of you, "was that not a joke?" she nodded. "alright then, my bad."
jamie gave a short shake of his head as if mentally moving on. "no one's coming over," he said to you, "just wanted to know when i should make dinner."
in a cartoon, your heart would have beat out of your chest, through your shirt and folded apron. "i'll be back at seven," you told him. "i'll see you then?"
his smile warmed the room. "see you then, petal."
the bell rang, this time dreary and disappointed, as the door shut behind him.
your coworker immediately turned to you, eyes teasing and playful.
"if you're gonna say something, lovely, just say it," you prompted, taking out the closing checklist.
she was practically buzzing on her feet. "tell me you've given up on your no fraternizing with roommates rule," she begged, clasping her hands for emphasis. "tell me you realize how obvious you're both being."
you waved her off, shook your head. "the rule is there because it's important," you chided, "and there's no way he's into me like i'm into him." a line you had used about almost every guy you had liked, repeated so many times in your head it was practically a hymn.
she folded her arms in front of her chest, rolled her eyes. "when you're ready to come to terms with people finding you attractive and interesting and wonderful, as you are, let me know," she called out over her shoulder as she went on her smoke break.
her words stayed with you, though, because they were meaningful. it was hard for you, dreadfully so, to even fathom that someone could find you worthy of their time, their energy, their attention.
even when you were actively flirting with people, acting confident, like you were that first day when jamie walked into your coffee shop, it felt as false, as foreign, as theatrical as shakespeare in the park.
why was it so easy for you to give all of that to others, why did you want to give it to them so desperately? why did it feel like such an impossible ask for someone to give that to you?
her words were burrowing in the back of your mind as you locked the front door of your apartment behind you, breathed in a delicious smell, maybe rosemary? thyme?
you let yourself drift into the kitchen, were met with a freshly showered jamie in pajama pants and an old ohl t-shirt. he stood over the stovetop, humming something, before turning and meeting your eyes, sending a spark flickering through your veins.
"welcome home, petal," he said, his full lips quirking up in that gentle smile you had come to crave.
"long time no see," you teased, knowing it had been only a couple of hours.
his gaze was full of something heavy when he tilted his head, heaped some pasta onto two plates. "felt long," he admitted, "the house is so weird without you here."
your stomach flipped. he couldn't just say things like that, you decided, if he didn't expect you to melt completely, a puddle of pink glitter glue on the hardwood floor.
"weird how?" you asked, hating yourself for pushing.
your mother's voice was jarring, harsh in your head. don't fish for compliments, she always said, it's vain.
now that you were older, you wanted a chance to respond to her. is it fishing for compliments if you never get any? if all you ever hear is how you could do better? you took a breath. is it so wrong to want to hear something good?
jamie didn't appear to think you were being vain, anyways. "weird like quiet," he said, gentle and soft, "i don't know, honestly, just different. it's better when you're here."
you couldn't help but blush at his words, even though you had asked for them. the mother in your head scoffed.
you smiled at him, so genuine you could feel your eyes crinkle at the corners. "i think it's better when you're here, too," you said, low and loaded like a secret.
suddenly the air between you grew thick and heavy, simmering with something the reason in you knew better than to identify. you held each other's gazes for a moment, almost begging, daring the other to do something.
you had never been the kind of person to pick dare during sleepover games, always felt truth was the safer bet. now, there was nothing safe about the truth, either. you cleared your throat, fidgeted with your fingers, dropped your gaze and asked him about practice, what he made for dinner.
do you think about me like i think about you? you wanted to ask him. have you ever wanted me to just hold you after a long day? have you ever thought about what my lips would feel like on your neck?
you shivered, pushed the thoughts away as you ate dinner together, tried to lean into the privilege of spending time with him, even if you wished for something more.
can't this be enough? you pleaded. why isn't this enough?
the words of your routine spun around the two of you like a whirlpool. work, skate, game, lift, dinner, road trip, copywriting. the words of your combined schedules swirled around your head.
better those that the other words, always lurking around the two of you like childhood monsters under a bed: eyes, heat, lips, sweet, gentle, soft, shoulders, arms.
you must have zoned out, because he waved a hand once in front of your face. "petal?"
you shook yourself out of your trance-like state. "sorry," you said, already feeling the familiar flush of embarrassment.
he fixed you with a look. "for what?" he asked, less confused, more curious.
you closed your eyes for a second, took a deep breath. why was he making you explain this? "i mean, i was probably staring at you, right?" you said, feeling the shame of it prick you on the fingers like a thousand needles.
his gaze dropped to your mouth for a millisecond before meeting your eyes again. there was a silence, and when he spoke again, his voice was husky. "you can stare at me all you want, petal."
you could have whimpered, could have screamed. don't say things like that to me, you wanted to tell him. tell me things like that every second until i die, you also wanted to say.
"really?" you whispered, too starry-eyed to cringe at yourself. your food lay forgotten in front of you. how many times had you eaten dinner together, just like this? how many times had you pushed this feeling away? was it possible that he was doing just the same?
he hummed, ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, a self-satisfied move from him you have never really seen before. you rubbed your crossed ankles together.
you took a breath, a last beat of courage, before reaching across the counter and brushing his hair from out of his eyes. his skin scorched your fingertips, his eyes made your breathing slow and shallow. "you can stare at me, too," you said to him, pulling your arm back.
his eyes were full of understanding. "i know," he told you. "i do."
that knowledge was still haunting you days later. that he noticed you, registered your presence, like you did him. how could you ever act normally again, knowing this? how could you ever act without the constant weight of him around?
so you did the only thing you could think of - you ignored him, avoided him, hoped to skillfully evade his careful gaze, however much it hurt you not to see him, to talk with him, to ask him how practices and games went.
such a task became impossible when the bell clinked cheerily, the following weekend, signifying you and the coffee shop of the arrival of its favorite patron.
you looked up, halfway surprised to see him enter with another person, too, a teammate you had met, you were sure of it, but one you couldn't quite recall the name of. the two of them approached the counter in a shroud of laughter and easiness.
apparently, your coworker recognized the friend, too, because upon their approach she began a slow, sarcastic applause. "gentlemen," she said, "allow me to congratulate you on a recording breaking game last night."
jamie and his friend shared a look. "um," jamie began, careful, "we lost last night."
"oh," your coworker finished an order and set it on the pick-up counter. "i should have clarified. the record was for laziest defensive performance i've ever witnessed." she gave them a quick thumbs up. "congrats again! know you guys have been working real hard for this one."
jamie shook his head lightheartedly before locking eyes with you, smiling slightly. you hadn't really spoken since the other night, but you still didn't really know what to say. you didn't know where you stood, what lines were still drawn.
thankfully, your coworker refused to drop it, not leaving any opportunity for silence, now speaking directly to the newcomer. "i'm so happy you're here, 11," she continued. "you know that you're allowed in your own defensive zone, right? feel free to cross the red line, i think you'll find that defense makes winning a lot easier."
the object of your coworkers jabs turned to jamie. "am i supposed to take this?"
jamie shrugged. "i usually do."
she waved him off. "yeah, but you're hoping i'll put in a good word with your roommate." you blushed at her words, hope sparking at the possibility of them being true.
jamie didn't drop your gaze. "yeah, and how far is that getting me? you gonna put in a good word?"
every fiber of your being told you not to take his words at face value. every fiber of your being wanted to.
she scoffed. "yeah, right. if anything i'd just say you're a pushover."
the newcomer scrunched up his expressive face. "well, in that case, why don't you keep your thoughtful advice to yourself?"
she tilted her head back and laughed. "what, 11, can't take a little feedback?" she pouted, false pity all over her face. "guess you're every bit the flashy bust they say you are."
"no one is saying that!" he fumed, "literally name one person who is saying that!"
you and your roommate stifled your laughter as their argument grew.
you made him his drink, handed it over. his face was gentle, soft as took the cup from you. "you're avoiding me," he said, not accusatory, a simple observation.
you couldn't lie to him and say you weren't, so you only stayed quiet.
"i miss you," he said, so simple and genuine in its honesty that you could have cried.
"i miss you, too," you said, easy as an exhale.
his gaze glimmered. "so watch a movie with me tonight, yeah?"
your mouth twitched, because you wanted to, so badly, but you didn't know if you could trust yourself.
he shifted back and forth on his heels. the sun dripped so languishingly over his brow, down his jaw and neck. "please?" he asked, and you were done.
"okay," you conceded, butterflies already fluttering to life in your stomach at the thought of spending tonight with him on the couch.
a thud and a grunt shook you both from your conversation as you turned to your respective friends. your coworker appeared to be throwing bags of coffee beans at jamie's teammate. "can't hide behind a ref now, can you?" she taunted the lanky newcomer, who struggled to catch the bags.
"this is the behavior of a deranged fan," he pointed out, placing the bags back on the counter. "i hope you realize that."
"you wish i was a fan of yours," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "on an unrelated note, can i take a video of you wishing my little brother good luck on his math test tomorrow?"
the video was filmed, reluctant thanks and apologies were given and accepted.
"i apologize for the physical assault, but not the truth, 11," your coworker conceded, "and you're only getting any apology at all because this is going to mean the world to my brother."
"can't you just apologize normally?" you pushed, looking to make the rest of the patrons more comfortable, the energy less combative.
"tell you what," she said to him, "if you put in some effort next game to something besides michigans and between-the-legs shots, i'll give you the best apology you've ever seen."
jamie hissed. "he's gonna take that in a way you won't like."
his teammate leveled your coworker with a smirk. "do i get to pick how you apologize?"
she scoffed, an angry flush all over her face. "no, you don't get to pick! what the hell is the matter with you?"
you and jamie shared a look at their bickering. see you at home, petal, he mouthed to you on the way out, argumentative words still saturating the air.
bye, jamie, you mouthed back with a wave.
when you got back from work, called out your greeting, settled in, and changed out of your uniform, you found him on the couch, were all too happy to join him, however off limits it felt.
he felt off limits, like this, all messy hair and eyes tired with the day, worn-in sweatpants and sweatshirts from junior hockey and lazy stretches that revealed slivers of skin.
you lifted up a blanket, pulled your knees to your chest underneath it, avoided his gaze. "your friend's a character, hm?" you started.
he shifted his posture to get a better look at you, even though he was now faced halfway away from the movie he was in the middle of. "who, trevor?" he gave a playful roll of his eyes. "ignore him. he thinks your friend's hot and doesn't know what to do about it."
"that's him flirting?" you said, eyes wide, words spoken slowly for emphasis. "good grief, his act needs some work."
jamie's smile slanted into something dangerous. "what, wouldn't work on you, petal?" suddenly the blanket over you seemed like entirely not enough coverage. you felt completely exposed as you gave a slight shake of your head. he draped a heavy arm along the back of the couch. "no?" he paused, forced you to meet his magnetic gaze as he ran a hand through his hair. "what would work on you, then?"
you searched his eyes for a drop of humor, of teasing, of something that would hurt you, as you had long ago trained yourself to. you could sniff out potential abandonment, embarrassment like a bloodhound. but you came up empty, with him.
what could you say to him? that anything that he does, anything he could ever do, that's what would work on you? that he works on you?
your careful silence could have been a banshee scream into an open expanse as the air between the two of you again adopted that rolling flame, that lick of heat up your bare legs.
your eyes widened as he tugged your feet and calves into his laps with one hand, gently but firmly, just enough so that you could feel the warmth from his thick quads pooling in the backs of your knees.
just close enough to want more. just close enough to know you shouldn't.
"'m picky," you said, almost out of breath, swallowing your uneasiness down until the only thing you felt was him. "not into the interest disguised as insults."
he hummed as if he understood, ran his fingers over your shins, feather-light, so much so that later you would wonder if you had only imagined he had touched you. "so what?" he said, meeting your eyes in the dim light you had long ago deemed especially dangerous. "like to be called pretty, petal? like it when they make it, so, so easy for you?" his fingers dragged across your ankle in an electrifying way that had you forgetting about your promise. "like when they go slow?"
you let out some kind of strangled sound, halfway between a nervous laugh and a whimper. because you did like all of those things, of course you did. you liked proof that people cared about you, how could you not?
you couldn't even dwell on how delicious the word pretty sounded in his mouth, how much you wanted to taste it, because something else in his wording willed confidence into your body, clarity into your head in place of guilt.
"who's they?" you asked, your voice steadier than it had been in weeks.
"hm?" he asked, rough.
"i said," you repeated, shifting your body until you rested on top of his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. "who's they?" you were closer than you had ever been as you felt him underneath you, almost chest to chest. so close you could feel his breathing stutter against you. you brushed his messy hair from his face until you could see his eyes in all of their gorgeous truth. "i don't care much about them, jamie."
something rumbled in him, something you felt in your bones. he looked so, so beautiful, and his mouth was right there, and was he tilting his head closer to you? and-
"jim! when the hell are you gonna give me back my blender?" your door swinging open and shut might as well have been a strike of lightning as you scrambled away from each other. trevor's voice cut through your apartment like thunder, like a cold shower.
in a moment he appeared in the doorframe, suddenly eyeing the two of you with the suspicion only a best friend could muster. he gestured between the two of you, now comically far apart on opposite sides of the couch.
"what's going on here?" he asked.
jamie tilted his head back again, wiped at his face with both hands. "sure, yeah, come on in," he said to trevor through his fingers.
"how did you get in here?" you asked, you voice still dark with want, the aftermath of confidence still lacing your tone.
"key," trevor said, waving you off as if this piece of information wasn't relevant. "why?" he looked between the two of you again, eyes narrowed. "'m i interrupting something?"
silence followed. you didn't look at jamie, and he didn't clarify. "no," you said finally, not angry, but knowing the moment was over. "i guess not."
and so you pulled yourself up, made your way back to your room, every inch of your skin buzzing, every heartbeat a burst of electricity through your body.
voices grew fainter as you neared your door.
"if you'd just give me back my blender this wouldn't be such a problem," trevor hissed.
"and you couldn't've shot me a text? figured you'd just break in to my house?" jamie's voice was resigned. you knew he could never stay mad at his friend.
"it's not breaking in if you gave me a key, scumbag."
you shut your door behind you and collapsed onto your bed, still feeling the phantom of his body underneath you, the ghost of his fingertips digging into your hips. you groaned into a pillow, hating that when you closed your eyes all you saw was his full, pink mouth.
the next day, when you relayed all of this new, and not so new information to your friend at work, she shook her head slowly.
"i don't know," she said, pouring a double shot over ice, "but it sounds like you've either gotta make this thing serious or check out your other options." she shot you a look. "no more of this pining bullshit."
you whacked her with a rag playfully, but sighed. "i can't make it serious. and i don't have other options, so looks like pining's all i got."
"tell me you're kidding." she glared at you. "i've had like three friends just in the past week come in and text me after asking if you're single."
you scrunched up your face. "no, you haven't," you said, knowing there's no way that could be true.
"callin' me a liar?" she prompted, pulling out her phone with her free hand and scrolling until she found one of the texts, facing it to you.
sure enough, there was a message from some guy, some ordinary name, asking if she'd set him up with the "smoke in the canada hat," referring to the hat you had borrowed of jamie's earlier this week.
"whatever," you said, "it doesn't really matter."
"it does matter." your friend set the drink down on the pickup counter and turned to meet your gaze entirely. "it matters to me that you find it so hard to believe that people are into you." she grasped for one of your hands, held it firmly.
her touch was welcome, and so were her words. because honestly, you knew why you found it so hard to believe. because even though you had a pretty good relationship with yourself, even though you knew now that you were beautiful, and smart, and funny, and kind, when you were young, you didn't know that. when you were young, the people you were closest to were basically telling you that you weren't those things.
flashes of tense family dinners, long car rides during which you were the butt of every joke shot across your mind like meteors, just as destructive.
saw you talking to a boy today during lunch, one of your older siblings would say after a long day, maybe middle school, maybe sophomore year. is he your boy-friend? the words slow and taunting, malicious, immediately making an angry, embarrassed flush break out across your face.
don't be ridiculous, peanut, your mother would scold your sibling from the front seat, it's rude. and it's not like she was wrong, the boy you had been talking to wasn't your boyfriend, but it stung like a wasp nonetheless.
why is it ridiculous? you wanted to ask, tears brimming, hot behind your eyes. would that really be so hard to believe?
or countless calls with your parents during your first year of college, each more demeaning than the last. you know you're allowed to date, right? your mother might say. you know we aren't strict about that kind of thing. you held back a bitter and sarcastic congratulations.
i know, you would say, trying to hide the defeat you felt at the disappointed sigh she had done such a poor job of hiding.
every not-so subtle jab landed deep, until even the words put yourself out there induced a physical reaction.
it hurt to think about allowing yourself to want, to be wanted, because what if they laughed in your face? what if it all really was ridiculous, all this time? what if it really was hard to believe?
you sighed, now, squeezed your coworker's hand.
"how about this," she proposed, her eyes as soft as you had ever seen them. "how about i set you up with one of my friends who's interested, just one date, and we see how it goes? no pressure, and i'll make sure he knows it's no pressure. think of it like practice."
you thought for a moment, bit your lip. you could use a stress-free practice, that much was true, and you trusted this friend to not set you up with a sleaze-ball. and, you confessed, if you wanted to fizzle out whatever was going on with your roommate, this would probably be a good start.
so you agreed. the decision was made easier by the fact that jamie was on the road this week, so you didn't have him to distract you. the day of your dinner date ended up being the day he was set to return, but he wasn't supposed to get back until the middle of the night.
you wouldn't have to explain yourself to anyone, or even tell anyone how it went, if you didn't want to, you reminded yourself. just practice, no pressure.
and the guy was really sweet, honestly. he was good-looking, too, if not a bit more lanky, taller than the guys you usually went for. he asked you questions, and seemed to care about the answers, and you found yourself in a full conversation with him pretty easily.
but then something in your mind would catch on his shoulders and think not big enough to sink your teeth into, and then on his mouth and think he'd never call you petal, and then on his cheeks, which didn't blush the whole night, not even once.
and he was a really nice guy, but you found yourself wanting to invite him to join your friend group's book club, not invite him back to your place. you found yourself thinking quite intently about a certain person who was not, in fact, the man sitting across from you at the table.
which was fine, you realized, because this is practice, and he doesn't have to be the one. practice means you can find a friend.
so, with a smile, a shared admission that you would like to get to know each others as friends, and a promise to send him the address to the next book club meeting, you left your first date in forever feeling proud of yourself.
on your way back into your apartment, you sent your friend from work a thank you text before making your way to your room and changing into something more comfortable.
you settled on sleep shorts and an old t-shirt before heading to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, breathing in the smell of steeping chamomile when a sound behind you made you jump.
thankfully you would recognize that frame anywhere. you exhaled. "jesus, jamie," you breathed, "thought you wouldn't be back 'til later."
he stepped forward, the light so dark and dim and dangerous, especially after not seeing him all week. the slope of his high cheekbones, the sharp cut of his jaw, the deep pooling of feeling in his eyes. it all rushed at you a million miles an hour and stole your breath.
"got in early," he explained, his gaze ever so slow down your figure, like he was mapping it, committing it to memory. "were you out?" he asked, his voice suddenly rough.
you swallowed, thinking about what to say. a pause settled between the two of you, thick like mud, decadent like chocolate pudding.
i missed you, you wanted to tell him. tell me you missed me, too.
he inched closer still, leaned against the kitchen counter as you busied yourself with stirring your tea with the tea bag. "don't wanna tell me?" he mused. "how could that be, petal?"
you didn't meet his eyes, suddenly feeling childish. "went on a date."
you were both silent, for a moment. you looked up to check if he was still there. "and why didn't you wanna tell me?" his voice was gravelly.
your hands were shaking, you realized, so you set down your mug, crossed your arms against your chest with a sigh. "he was nice," you admitted, didn't quite miss the green flame that sparked across his gaze, blinked out in a moment. "but i was distracted." you looked down at your feet.
then he was right in front of you, a step apart. it had been so long since you had been so close, and the memory of what had happed that last time burned between the two of you, unspoken, yet the most obvious fixture in the room.
you looked up to meet his curious, careful gaze, wanted so badly to lean forward, sink into his broad chest, breathe him in and never stop.
"by what, petal?" he asked, so close you could practically feel the words on your own lips, his tone so low and heavy your stomach dropped.
you swallowed, watched his eyes track the movement. "you," you said simply, honestly.
and then his eyes searched yours for a single telling moment before his hands came to cup your face, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that held a million i missed you, i missed you, i missed you's.
you let out some soft noise into his mouth at the lovely pressure of his lips against yours, so firm and knowing. you pressed yourself so closely against his chest, one hand on his collarbone, the other grasping around his neck.
he leaned forward into you so pleasantly before moving his arms down to lift you by the waist, setting you down gently on the top of the counter, moaning when you fixed your hands in his hair.
you swallowed down his sounds like elixir, wanted every single one of them, as his wide hands kneaded at the flesh of your hips slowly. you raked your hands down the back of neck delicately, enough to relish in the shudder left in their wake.
finally, you both pulled away, only just, only enough to slow your heaving chests, enough to selfishly see the effect you both had on the other. matching glossed over gazes, swollen lips, exhales heavy with unspoken words.
you pushed some of his hair from his face, soft under your gentle fingers, could have swooned at how he was looking at you, right now. like there was no one else in the universe, like the stars existed only for you.
"i have to go home tomorrow," you said, suddenly, like a ridiculous idiot, wanting to shove the words back into your mouth as he traced light circles across the tops of your thigh. why did you say that?
but his expression didn't change. "i'll come," he said immediately.
your heart jumped, but you didn't want him to come and see your family, really, because family gatherings never were the most flattering, for you. "you don't have to," you said, "i know you're busy, and it's just for a little bit, just for the day."
"i'll come, petal," he repeated.
your mouth quirked, just a bit. "yeah?"
"yeah," he said, a drowsy smile slanting across his face. a smile you couldn't say no to, a smile you just had to feel against your lips.
a smile that meant, the following morning, you were standing on the front step of your childhood home next to jamie, who was holding a potted plant.
"you know you didn't need to bring anything," you said after you rang the doorbell, jittery with nerves. how long had it been?
he only pinched you lightly in the side. "swear i won't drop it this time, petal," he said with the easy tone that calmed your nerves, if only slightly.
and then the door was opening, and you were ushered in among a flurry of hugs and exclamations of it having been to long.
your older brother said you looked different, your mother said you needed to visit more often. you had the sinking feeling that coming home was a mistake.
then came the inevitable. "and who's this handsome young man?" your mother asked in a sugary sweet tone that made the room smell like the dentist's office, at least to you. "is this that friend from work you told me about a while ago?"
you opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it again, slightly confused, maybe disappointed? other people's parents assumed they were dating any person they spoke to, which you were sure was its own beast, but you had actually brought someone to a family meal and your mom thought he was your coworker?
"uh," you started, struggling to find your footing. "this is jamie."
you wanted to put your forehead through the tastefully muted wallpaper of the mudroom, but jamie only shook your father's hand, endured awkward hugs from your mother and siblings, handed over his plant with practiced grace.
you felt your hands tremble ever so slightly, willed them to still, begged any courage and confidence to show itself, but your chest was tight, like your lungs were filling up with polluted water.
jamie caught your eye, registered your defensive stance, gave you a look full of softness and acceptance before stepping to your side and pulling you in for a gentle side-hug, his embrace strong and sure in all the ways you were not. he pressed his lips to the top of your head, lips you still felt the memory of on your mouth, lips that sent a shiver of stability down your spine. "much better than last time, eh, petal?" he said, looking down at you, still tucked into his side. "no dirt under your nails, this time."
you couldn't help but give a slight shake of your head, squeezed him tighter in a way you hoped said thank you.
when you looked back up to your family, there was an almost comical look of surprise in your mother's eyes, a look of extreme boredom in your siblings'.
you father cleared his throat. "brunch's ready," he said, urging your mother to lead you all to the dining room.
jamie pulled out your chair for you, leaned forward to your ear when you sat down. "look so pretty today," he whispered, his voice a low rasp, only for you, only to help you settle, only because it was the truth.
"you know, jamie, she's never brought someone home before," your mother said at some point during the meal, like it was some kind of inside joke between the two of them, a joke you were not a part of. she shared some kind of look with him, but his face was blank. "honestly, we were starting to get worried." your father and her gave light laughs, laughs that made your stomach roll with anxiety, shame.
good god, couldn't they give you a break? you pushed your food around your plate, very much not hungry, very much wanting to leave.
jamie didn't laugh, though, didn't indulge them, didn't pretend like he was in on their joke. "worried about what?" he asked, his expression and tone entirely plain and curious, waiting patiently for elaboration that never came. his question was met with flickering glances between your parents, nervous laughter dying in their mouths.
you looked down at your plate again, bit your lip to hide your smile, reached under the table to squeeze his hand. he squeezed yours right back.
the rest of the meal was fine. soon enough, you were saying your goodbyes, doling out your own awkward hugs along with vague assurances that you would be back soon.
"and it was so wonderful to meet you, jamie," your mother said, a hand on his forearm, "know you're welcome here anytime."
you pushed aside the spark of jealousy within you. what would it be like to know that for yourself? to feel welcome in this home, whenever you wanted?
jamie just looked at you with that molten softness in his dark eyes. you pushed his hair from his face, the way you had grown accustomed to doing, more a comfort to you at this point. he leaned into your touch, however slightly.
"thank you for having me," he said, politely, before looking at you once more. "'m honored to be the first person petal's felt comfortable enough to bring home."
you could have melted at how genuine he sounded, at the idea that he was honored to be around you, of all things, at all.
when you were both in the car, you turned to him. "you didn't have to say that, you know," you told him as he pulled the car out of the driveway, started the trek home.
he just kept one hand on the wheel, took yours with the other. "wanted to," he said, glancing over at you with a steadiness that was impossible to deny. "meant it."
a smile came easily to your face, a flush came easier. he lifted your hand to his mouth, lightly pressed his lips to the top of it, making you shift in your seat with poorly hidden delight, perfectly warm all over.
you arrived back home, and fell back into your routine.
jamie dropped you off at work the following day, rolling his window down when you got out the passenger door. "petal!" he called.
you turned, that grin that seemed to be every-present around him on your face. "yeah?"
the faintest of blushes began to prick at his cheeks. "can i have a kiss, please?"
you were all too willing to comply, leaning against the side of the car and pulling his lips to yours with a gentle hand on his jaw. "see you later?" you murmured against his mouth, butterflies so alive in your stomach you half believed they would fly up your throat. he nodded, a little dazed, promised to see you after your shift, as he had the day off.
the lovely dizziness began to dull as soon as you entered the coffee shop, as there was a very unexpected guest behind the counter with your friend.
"have you never even heard of a latte?" your coworker seethed, the words hard and angry through her teeth.
"feel free to call this off at any time, sugar," a smug trevor drawled, wearing an apron and a haphazardly drawn name tag.
you set your things down and began to tie your own apron around yourself. "afternoon, lovely," you greeted your friend before looking at the newcomer. "trevor."
he nodded to you with a smile in a greeting of his own before the espresso machine started making a menacing sound.
you took the next customer's order, began to prepare it. "do i wanna know why you appear to be an employee today?"
"lost a bet," he said, looking at your coworker, who grimaced.
"we agreed that if he didn't block five shots against the hawks last week, he'd work a shift," she crossed her arms over her chest. "but already this is more of a punishment for me than for him."
he turned up his smile to the megawatts.
you shook your head with a laugh. "you know this is breaking, like, a billion laws," you said, pouring soy milk into a cup. "we can't just hire randoms to work a single shift."
trevor placed a fake-offended hand over his heart. "i'm not some random," he clarified.
"according to california law, you are," you said, matter-of-factly, finishing off the drink and placing it on the pickup counter.
"oh, whatever, 11, just go," your coworker said, exasperated, "you've already messed up like twelve times in the last two hours."
he pouted, teasing like a kindergarten bully, all grown up. "you wound me, sugar," he said, turning around slowly. "untie my apron for me?"
she took off her bucket hat and whacked him with it. "don't think i've forgiven you, either," she said, pointing a warning finger at him.
"wouldn't dream of it," he cooed, taking out him phone. "haven't i earned a drink for my troubles? jimmy won't be here for another five minutes."
you scrunched up your brow. "jamie?" you groaned for him, "wish you'd called it quits like two minutes earlier. he was just here."
both your coworker and trevor whipped their heads around. "jim dropped you off?"
you nodded. your coworker gave you an impressed grin, held her hand down low for trevor to slap in a high-five. "let's go," she said, pumping her fist.
you rolled your eyes at the two of them. "so the goon squad is working together, now?" you asked.
trevor rested his elbow on the top of your friend's head, making her hiss and bat his arm away. "best team around," he said, smugly, before looking at his phone. "time to go," he stated, accepting the two drinks you pushed into his hands with a thank you. "until next time, sugar," he said, looking at your friend.
"the red line won't hurt you unless you let it," she called out behind him.
you immediately started peppering her with questions about her bet with jamie's teammate, trying to get her to admit she didn't hate him as much as she let on.
"jamie says he just thinks you're hot and doesn't know what to do about it," you told her before she went out back for her break.
she fixed you with a look. "you can tell jamie that his friend better find out what to do about it." you laughed as the door shut behind her.
the rest of your shift went by terribly slowly. it wasn't that busy, and, honestly, you really missed jamie. you had only just found out what his lips felt like on your own, after all, and now you were having a hard time thinking about anything else. no one should feel this overheated, this distracted, while trying to steep peppermint tea and froth oat milk.
too many times, you lost yourself in daydreams about what his thighs felt like underneath you, how his fingers would feel like in your mouth, what his hand would feel like, gripping your hair.
you just wanted to be close to him, as close to him as possible.
by the time your coworker was dropping you off at your apartment, your mouth was practically dry with want, and if someone were to call you desperate, you weren't sure if you would have it in you to care.
you locked the door behind you, the silence in the kitchen and mudroom telling you he was probably in his own room, probably gaming.
you could have whined, thinking you would have to wait until he was done until you could kiss him, touch him, feel him how you wanted to.
you lasted pretty much as long as it took you to change into more comfortable clothes. undeniable want had you rapping your knuckles lightly against his door, exhaling gratefully when a soft come in wafted through the air.
and then the door was open, and he was there, exactly as you had thought him to be. his headset pushed his messy hair up in different directions, his knees spread wide, his posture relaxed.
he made eye contact with you, something warm shining in his gaze as he pushed his mic away from his mouth. "hey, petal," he rasped, his voice weary with use. "you're home."
you nodded, bit your lip, twisted the sole of your foot into the ground slowly. "know you're busy," you said, soft, almost bashful, "but can i just sit with you?" you swallowed down any shakiness. "couldn't stop thinking 'bout you at work."
you knew he wouldn't laugh at you, but were splendidly pleased anyways when he simply nodded, let that smile slant across his face, opened up his arms in invitation, contentment obvious in his expression.
you breathed out and crossed the room to where he sat, lowered yourself onto his lap as he spread his legs apart wider to make you more comfortable. you crossed your legs over his thigh, leaned back into his chest, let the warmth and feeling of him envelop you like a fog. his arms came to reach around you as he kept playing, fiddling with his controller. you could have fallen asleep here, if you weren't so alert, if every inch of your body didn't feel like it was slowly catching flame.
you hummed, shifted your hips back against him, making him let out a soft grunt. "getting comfortable?" he whispered, to which you nodded, smiled, leaned your head against his chest.
you tried to stay still, watch the screen as he played, but something about feeling his breaths against your back, the heat of him pooling in your neck, the firmness of him underneath you, it made you restless, impatient.
so much so that after maybe a few minutes, you were craning your head up to press your lips lightly to his jaw, his throat, just behind his ear, twisting your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.
he let out a groan, low and dangerous. "thought you just wanted to sit," he said, his mouth quirking up, a tightness to his voice that hadn't been there before.
"changed my mind," you mumbled into his shoulder, grazing your teeth over his deltoid.
"be patient, petal," he rumbled, "wait 'til 'm finished, hm?"
you pouted against his jaw, figured you had done months of waiting, if you counted back to that first day. more than your fair share. you were done being patient.
so, instead of waiting, like he had asked you to, you wordlessly pushed yourself from his chest, sank down to your knees into front of his chair, gently placed your palms on his thighs, forcing his attention to you.
his gaze settled on you like heavy sediment, scorching, bubbling. when he spoke, you felt it against your face like a caress. "fuck, petal, dreamt of you like this."
your smile was slight, sly. "what? on my knees for you, jamie?"
he gave an almost pained shake of his head, made some strained sound of refutation. he set his controller down and pulled off his headset, tossed it aside as you tugged at his sweatpants, rolled your hand over him, hard and hot.
he tilted his head back, groaned. "dreamt of you lookin' at me like this," he confessed, words thick with revelation, "like you want me."
something almost religious passed between you, because what was this, if not something worth worshipping? something built on devotion beyond logic, beyond better judgement?
"i do want you, jamie," you said, finality swimming in your heated tone, "i want you so, so bad."
you bit your lip to hide your grin when he whimpered at your words, his eyes screwing shut as you took him in your hand, spit onto his cock, pumped him up and down before running your tongue along the length of him, drinking in his sounds greedily.
he rooted his thick hand in your hair, draping it away from your face as you sunk your mouth down onto him. "fuck," he choked out, slow and strained, "fuck, petal, you can have me."
you moaned around him, grounded by his grip, the pleasant tug on your scalp, urged him to the back of your throat until your eyes began to water, until his thighs began to tense, before retreating again, peering up at him, eager to take every inch of him in, like this.
so unguarded and uncontrolled, knowing he was thinking only of you, pure want dripping down his frame and face like watercolor, this image of him made you acutely aware of just how wet you already were.
you tugged your hand up and down him again, grinned when he shuddered. "taste so good, jamie," you rasped, running your thumb along the tip, "'ve wanted your cock in my mouth for so long, baby."
his chest rose and fell as he moaned, desperate, overwhelmed. his thumb circled your jaw as you continued moving your hand, spitting onto him again. "should've told me, petal," he whined, "would've given you anything you wanted." his voice shook, you felt his muscles tense again as you took him in your mouth again. "waited so good for me, hm?"
you hummed, held him in your mouth, hollowed out your cheeks until tears broke your waterline, his grunts telling you he was close as you let your nails dig into the tops of his thighs.
"fuck, 'm gonna cum," he breathed, "feel so good like this, petal, too good, can't hold on." his grip in your hair tightened, his hips bucking up, hitting a deeper spot in your throat. he made to pull back, but you only moved your head with him, swallowing around him until you tasted him on your tongue, his moan resounding in your head like an organ in a cathedral.
only after he finished did you pull your mouth up off of him, tilted your head onto your elbow, which was resting on his thigh, red with marks from your clutching hands. you watched him come down from his high, watched his lashes flutter as his eyes opened, felt his grip loosen in your hair and his hand come down to rest under your chin, as gentle and affectionate a touch as you had ever felt.
he led your mouth to his, lifting you off of your knees, slanting his lips across yours like a smile before pulling away, looking at you for a moment, tracing your mouth with his thumb. "look so pretty like this, petal," he praised, low and steady, "so fuckin' perfect."
and you blushed, because you knew how you looked.
you knew that your face was flushed with exertion, knew that spit ran down onto your chin, knew that your lashes were clumped together with tears, knew that your lips with swollen and your neck shone with sweat.
he kissed the corner of your mouth anyways, looked at you like there had never been anything more beautiful. "let me taste you, hm?" he murmured against your skin.
you shivered with pleasure at his words, but whined. "need you so bad, jamie," you pleaded, "need you inside of me." you peered up at him through your lashes. "please?"
he shifted until you hovered above him, tugged your shorts aside, ran his fingers through your folds and cursed at how wet he found you. "anything you want, petal," he rasped, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking you off of them. "fuck, pretty girl, askin' me so nicely, hm?"
you nodded feverishly, reached under you to find him impossibly hard, again, before angling him to you and sinking down onto him, your knees on either side of his hips.
his head fell back at that first feeling, your mouth dropping open as your body pulled taut at the stretch. you whimpered when he reached behind you to pull you to his chest, changing the angle, while he shifted under you, both of you breathing heavy, searching for something to stop you from floating away.
you settled on letting your heavy head drop to his neck, letting shaky exhales escape past your teeth, melt into his collarbone like snowflakes on windowpanes.
he clutched at your waist, began to slowly move his hips, lifting you up and down in a rhythm that burned behind your eyes, that you felt on your tongue, in your toes.
"how do you feel like this?" he whispered, practically to himself, as if in a dream, as he kept up his pace, slow and brutal.
"like what, baby?" you breathed, picking your head up and beginning to fuck back onto him with more force, wanting to feel him harder, deeper.
"fuck," he whimpered, searching for an answer, his messy hair falling into his face, sticking to the gloss of sweat shining on his brow, "better than i imagined, petal. so perfect, made for me."
you moaned at his admission, reached around his neck for support. "been thinkin' 'bout me, jamie?" you asked, an almost cocky grin peeking through.
"so much," he whined, picking up his pace now, causing you to choke down a strangled moan, "fuck, petal, was worried you'd hear me through the walls."
his confession shot right to your core as you clenched around him, imagining him trying to keep quiet, touching himself, thinking of you. you dug your nails into the back of his neck as he laid a hand across your stomach, pressed down until he could feel the outline of himself inside of you, moving in and out.
the sensation was so intense that you had to shut your eyes, the pressure inside of you pulling so tightly you bit your tongue.
"like that, hm?" he said, only the faintest trace of smugness in his tone. "like that i thought of you with my hand around my cock, petal?"
you nodded, moaned your affirmation, felt yourself grow so deliciously close.
"thought of you, just like this," he breathed into your neck, still pushing at your stomach, hitting somewhere impossibly deep inside you, hard and fast. "squeezing me so perfect, making those pretty sounds for me."
"'m so close, jamie," you pleaded, your voice wrecked, your jaw aching, "please make me cum? need you so bad, been needin' you for so long."
his neck tensed under your palm as his thrusts grew sporadic, his breathing labored. "fuck, petal, cum on my cock, yeah?" his other hand gripped your hip so hard you knew it would leave a mark. "been such a good girl for me."
you came apart at his words, collapsing onto his chest, clenching down on him so completely that he reached another high, warm and absolute. he stilled, both of your chests rising and falling against each other. you ran your fingers soothingly over the back of his neck, he rubbed circles into the sides of your hips as if in a daze.
finally, when the fog cleared like falling rain, you pulled back to look at his face, flushed, long lashes framing heavy lids, his gaze thick and syrupy with affection.
you lightly swept the damp hair from his forehead, pressed a gentle kiss to his brow that made him smile up at you lazily.
he ran his thumb along your cheekbone. "wanna stay in my room, tonight?" he asked, cheekily, like you were kids planning a sleepover, scheming up the best way to ask your parents.
so you just nodded and laughed, and he kissed the laugh from your lips as if it tasted of sugar.
fin.
#hockey#hockey smut#nhl#nhl smut#smut#jack hughes#jack hughes smut#quinn hughes#trevor zegras smut#jack hughes x reader#jamie drysdale imagine#jamie drysdale x reader#jamie drysdale#jamie drysdale smut#anaheim ducks#quinn hughes smut#jamie drysdale x y/n#new jersey devils#luke hughes smut
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The Rite of Movement | drabble
“oh sweet, sweet, dark haired man”
A/N: what’s crazy is that this idea came to me because I was watching Iron Man 2 and when Tony Stark is drunk at his birthday party?? I also do not understand the correlation whatsoever, but here we are 🤣 and Mai Tais are no joke lol
~word count: 1k~
Summary: it’s the first night of yours and Joel’s honeymoon, and he’s had a few too many Mai Tais tonight, baby love.
Pairing | pornstar!husband Joel x pornstar!female reader
Warnings: alcohol consumption, implied smut, established relationship, dirty talk, teasing, flirting, language, breeding kink??, Joel forgets you’re his wife in an endearing way, he also wants to pump you full of his babies, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!
series masterlist
“Baby loooove.” He hummed into your ear, arms looped around your waist for support in his drunken stupor.
Joel had a few too many Mai Tais the first night of your honeymoon. Combined with hours laying in the sun, endless amounts of delicious food and love making with you, he was in a syrupy sweet, love sick haze.
“Let’s get you back to the room, okay baby?” You had your arm wrapped around his middle, guiding him towards the direction of your private honeymoon suite.
“Can’t feel my legs.” He giggled, burying his face into your neck, steps staggered as you guided him along, “and you smell fuckin’ delicious! Jesus fuckin’ Christ, what perfume are ya wearin’, baby love?”
“That would be the rum talking, baby.” You giggled with him, giving his waist a gentle squeeze. “It’s your favorite perfume, Joel.”
He chuckled, peppering kisses against your exposed neck, leaning further into your supportive hold around him, “Well, ain’t I the luckiest man alive. Where ya takin’ me, pretty girl?”
“To the room, baby. And then we’re gonna get you some water, okay?”
“And you’re coming with me?” He questioned softly.
“Course I am. Gonna get you nice and comfy and we’ll have a good snuggle.” You promised him.
“Oooh! A snuggle with my baby love? Well, now I’m really lucky!” He chuckled. “Man, this place is so beautiful, isn’t it?” He detached his lips from your neck and tilted his chin upwards so he could look up at the millions of stars and the gently swaying palm trees.
“It’s very beautiful, baby.” You agreed.
“Not as beautiful as you, of course. You’re like—the most beautiful person ever, so beautiful that sometimes my brain turns to absolute mush when you’re around me! Isn’t that crazy?” He said with a lopsided grin, eyes barely peeked open as he looked over at you and leaned in to nuzzle his nose against your cheek.
“You wanna hear something just as crazy, baby?” You met his hazy gaze with a soft smile tugging on your lips as you reached your freehand up to brush away a few stray curls from his forehead that were obstructing his view.
“What could be crazier than that, baby love?”
“Sometimes my brain turns to mush when you’re around me too, Joel.”
He gasped in surprise, not believing the words leaving your mouth, “whaaat? No way! That is crazy!” He hiccuped, “‘scuse me baby love, m’ a bit drunk right now. Too many Mai Tais.” He rasped.
“It’s okay, baby. That’s why I’m here. Getting you back to the room safely.” You reassured him.
He nodded, crouching down a little so he could bury his face into your neck once more despite the faint strain in his lower back that he was feeling at this angle. “Baby love, I may be super drunk right now, but imma tell you somethin’, ‘kay?”
“I’m all ears, baby.” You mused.
“One day, and I’m hopin’ it’s soon, m’gonna ask you to be my wife and we’re gonna have lots and lots of babies—if that’s what you want, of course. Hopefully my swimmers are healthy n’such but if not, then there's other options. Hey—why are you gigglin’ over there?” He pouted his lips against your skin, tilting his head back so he could look over at you.
“Baby, my sweet, sweet, dark haired man, I am your wife! We’re on our honeymoon right now, Joel.” You softly reminded him as you held back your giggles as best as you could.
“WHAT? Oh my goodness—you’re my wife? Oh, goodness! I really am that lucky, huh? Wait, lemme see the ring! I better have picked out a good one or so help me—”
“Joel!” You giggled, “those Mai Tais really got to you, huh? You had the ring custom made, baby.” You stopped walking, letting him grab your left hand in his big warm palm and ogle at the dainty rock on your ring finger.
His eyes were dazzling like the stars glimmering above as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed his lips to your fingers and one to the ring. “Very, very, beautiful.” He hummed. “I have good taste, huh?”
“You do, baby. You have wonderful taste and I’m so lucky.” You preened.
“No, no, I am the lucky one here, baby. And tomorrow mornin’ when I wake up hungover, imma treat you sooo fuckin’ well. Breakfast in bed, mine between your thighs, of course. And then I’m gonna feed you my cock—”
You shushed him with a sweet kiss to his lips, “I love you so much, my sweet dark haired man.”
“Mmm.” He hummed against your lips, pulling you in closer, “I love you more, my baby love. Can I pump you full of my babies tomorrow mornin’, please?”
“You’re such a horndog, Mr. Miller.” You giggled against his lips, kissing him deeper, “You can pump me full of your babies, okay? And maybe we’ll get lucky and one of them will stick?”
“Jus’ how you like me, Mrs. Miller. Oh, and one of ‘em will stick. I believe in my trusty little swimmers.” He slowly pulled back from the kiss so he could look at you.
You took all of him in from his messy hair, to his beautiful brown eyes, the flush to his neck and the apples of his cheeks, his swollen lips from your kisses, and his glistening tanned chest peeking out through the opening of his shirt.
“You’re so beautiful, Joel.” You breathed out, and you could feel tears begin to prick in the corner of your eyes.
He sniffled, eyes equally as glassy, and he brought his warm palms to rest along your cheeks, and gently pressed his forehead against yours, “my baby love, if you don’t quit that sweet talkin’, I’m gonna turn into a puddle of waterworks.” He playfully warned you.
“Okay, Mr. drunk sappy pants, let’s get you home.” You pecked his lips one last time before wrapping your arm back around his waist so he could lean into you.
“Lead the way, baby love.” He whispers soft and sweet, drunk on Mai Tais and your love.
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#fic: oh sweet sweet dark haired man#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel x reader#joel x you#joel x female reader#joel x f!reader#joel miller fic#joel miller fluff#husband!joel#pornstar!joel#joel miller imagine#joel miller drabble#joel miller one shot#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel tlou#joel the last of us#joel miller au#the rite of movement
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7. honey cream
frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of do me yourself
summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.
wordcount: 3.9k
chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. anxious!reader.
an: can i just say a massive thank you to all those who show up EVERY SINGLE WEEK. i adore you so much. thank you. if you're new to the ride, also welcome. even if i loved this story so much, i never expected people to love it even half as much as me, never mind the love i keep getting. so thank you.
prev chapter | series masterlist
key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics
Nice forearm in your story.
Thanks, It’s this guy I met in a hardware store? We’ve been kind of seeing one another.
Oh, tell him he has a nice watch.
I’ve been told to tell you that you have a nice watch.
You’re hilarious.
I try to be.
You can say no to this, but do you want me to call you later?
That’ll be nice. I’ll be working late so I'll take a break when you do.
Tomorrow, I just need to grab some bits from the store and then I’ll be with you.
Are you sure you want to spend your day off helping me paint?
I was promised to see you in overalls, so yes.
They’re nice, but please lower your expectations.
I bet they look great on your ass.
Everything looks great on my ass.
Including my hand.
Yes, specifically when you slipped your fingers in my jeans pocket on the way to brunch.
I can’t wait to see you.
Drive safely, Butterscotch.
“I feel bad that your day off is spent painting.”
Flicking the lid off with a screwdriver, Frankie just smiles—eyes looking up at you from under his cap.
When he looks at you, you might as well be a fly irresistibly drawn to the brilliance of it, captivated by it.
He’d come in clothes that were long since paint-splattered. A set, you assume, he wears most times—an over-washed and over-loved flannel over a greying white tee, and a pair of cargos that have more pockets than you know what they could be used for.
It had been more natural when he’d arrived this time. A sweet kiss at the door, a long hug where he walks you in and his heel kicks your door shut. A muttering of 'you smell nice', into your neck—grinning over his shoulder because you’d sprayed far too much of your perfume.
“Don’t—I want to be here.”
“I think I’ll likely apologise another three times, at least, before we’re done.”
Standing, wearing a slightly twinged expression on his face, he steps over the clean trays and folded step ladders. His hand rises, turning the beak of his cap around, before he’s in front of you, staring at you before he kisses you.
Kisses you like he wishes to rid you of your worries and make your guilt wash away. Like he wants to empty your mind of things you’ve once been told, make you forget them, purge them. Fuck, his mouth almost does.
“So, rule of thumb—ceiling, walls and then kickboards, window sills.”
“Did you… Did you really just finish kissing me and immediately talk about painting?”
Grinning, he chuckles, bending down to grab a paintbrush. “Did you want me to linger on why you feel bad, or are you ready to get your hands dirty?"
You hesitate for a moment before taking the brush, fingers brushing over his. “I guess I’ll get dirty, since it’s with you.”
He seems to swallow, gaze holding yours as a soft smile tries to tug at his lips before flattening out to a line. Then, you just watch as he pours the off-white paint into the trays—its thick, glooping contents filling it quicker than you’d banked on, but he took it perfectly in his stride.
The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, forearms flexing as he tilts the larger tub until he appears content with the measurement in the tray.
You know a thumb covered in paint shouldn’t cause your throat to dry, but it does. Your mind thinking up all the places he can leave a stamp of it, a trail of it, turn you into a map showing where he’s been—over a thigh, collarbone, your —
“Race you to the end of the wall?”
Blinking, finding him already readying his roller on the blank, sun-stained wall.
Before you can respond, he's off. The roller glides smoothly across the wall, leaving a trail of fresh paint in its wake. You laugh, shaking your head at his competitive spirit before joining him, your own brush meeting the wall—cutting in.
In time, the room fills with the rhythmic sound of brushes against the wall, the occasional laughter, and gentle conversations. The room transformed over the hours, looking fresher, already a thousand times better than it had this morning with the patches off filled in holes and cracks.
Taking the brush from your hands, you step back to the middle, looking around, not initially aware of how he’s looking at you. Not until you spot a satisfied smile and a glint in his eye.
“We did good, didn't we?”
You shrug. “Think you could do better—put your back really into rolling next time.”
Shaking his head, he throws your brush into the used tray before he’s grasping, tugging, your body connecting with his in an oomph—his reflexes quicker, arms longer than you’d expected—as laughter escapes out as you slide your hand around the back of his neck.
“Thank you. For helping me.”
“Sure,” he whispers, cheek close to yours, fingers on your hip. “Have I told you how good you look in your overalls?”
Rolling your lips, you slowly turn in his hold—all set to turn his cap for him again. To whisper to him that they’re easy to remove too, that he could slide his fingers up, even slant your mouth back over his again.
But you hear his stomach. It rumbles—practically thunderous.
“I haven’t even offered you food,” you confess, words laced with guilt. “I should make you food.”
“You don’t have to…”
Fingers entwining with his, you pull him—finding him happily following, even as he mumbles about cleaning up, that the paint will dry in the tray. You don’t loosen your hold until the two of you are in the kitchen, a hand needed to open the fridge, both required to pull out some ingredients.
“You cooking for me?”
“I’m going to try, if that’s okay?”
He leans against the counter, watching you with a soft smile.
“I'd love that, baby,” he says, the affection in his voice making your heart flutter like it keeps doing.
Before you’ve even sliced the first vegetable, Frankie excuses himself—a kiss to your cheek, all domestic, normal. It not feeling weird even as he goes back to the “project room” and you hear him tidying.
Because it’s not odd in the slightest him being here.
A thing you turn over as you continue to prepare ingredients, cutting and marinating. By the time he’s returned, sporting an amused smile on his face, you’re about to begin frying things.
“Can I do anything?”
Shaking your head, you glance at him over your shoulder, finding he’s taken up his earlier spot. “Just keep me company.”
And he does. Asking you things, questions—some about your childhood, your family, friends. Every word spoken, he hangs onto. Staring like he’s making notes in his head, committing them to memory, somewhere inside that beautiful, amazing mind of his.
“Should I get used to you cooking if I come round and help you with your project?” he teases, taking a water from the fridge like you’d instructed.
“You better not get used to it,” you retort, throwing a small piece of bell pepper at him playfully. He ducks, laughing. “I batch cook most of the time—easier when you eat for one.”
His eyes follow as you move around the kitchen with a fondness in his eyes, you focusing on not burning anything. Stomach knotting itself when it comes to dishing it up, placing it down, and watching him slide into the stool.
When he takes the first bite, you swear you are frozen—unable to move, or think. Eyes just focused on his, watching, waiting, until you breathe a sigh of relief at the way his eyes light up. “This is really good, baby.”
You can't help but feel a little proud. “Thank you.”
He raises his water in a toast. “To more cooking then,” he proposes, and you laugh, agreeing wholeheartedly.
As you stick your own fork in, it's easy to find comfort in the shared silence, a contentment you continue to be amazed at. The atmosphere all at ease. There's no need for words as you both eat, side-by-side, a relatively normal thing for most, but not for you.
But, none of it feels weird, awkward. It never has—even if part of you continues to wait for it. If anything, it continues to be comfortable, right.
Even as the food effortlessly vanishes off both of your plates, it's not until you've reached your fill that you clear your throat.
“So, how often do you have Luca?”
Chewing his food, he puts down the remainder—wiping his fingers on the napkin. “It’s a weird rota. But it works? I’ll have him in the week for two nights and then overnight on a Saturday one week and then one night in the week the following and then Friday to Sunday, and then I’ll have him for three nights in the week the following. Sometimes, extra if I have time off or I want to take him to see family.”
Nodding, you take a sip of your drink.
“Does that… bother you?”
“No! No, of course not,” you grin. “He’s the most important, in all of this. It was just curiosity, I couldn’t… I couldn’t work out the pattern.”
Chewing his cheek he smiles. “You trying to work out when I’m free?”
Shrugging, you look away, aware of the heat warming your cheeks. “Well, someone did post about brunch on their Stories…”
“I remember someone else posting my forearm on theirs.”
Smiling, you plate your cutlery down. “It’s a very nice forearm.”
Shoulder nudging you, Frankie chuckles—cutlery lined up on his plate, your hand moving to take it. Sliding around the kitchen as he begins debating what part of him will appear next, a thigh, an ankle.
“I can include all of you next time, if you like?” Hand testing the hot, soapy water filling the bowl.
“Yeah?”
Licking your lips, you smile. “I don’t cook for anyone, Morales.”
Shifting to meet your gaze, his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Is that right, Rainy? I must be pretty special then.”
“You have no idea,” you reply, your voice a mere whisper but the words carry an immense weight, one you suspect has snuck out, and embedded itself into him.
You're quick to turn your back to him, hide the heat and shyness, as you carefully rinse off the dishes. Only hearing the stool shift at the last moment, the sound of his sock-covered feet padding around until he's standing behind you.
His presence is unmistakable, more so when he places his hands on your hips. “I think I'm beginning to,” he murmurs into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.
You turn to face him, the plates forgotten in the sink. Looking up into his eyes, seeing a reflection of things fluttering in them.
“You better,” you say, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek, “because I'm not planning on posting anyone else’s arm for a while.”
His grin widens at your words, his hands pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. "Good, because I don't plan on trying brunch with anyone else."
And as he leans down to kiss you, he pauses, mouth hovering over yours. “Speaking of…”
Narrowing your eyes, you retract your head, soap suds sliding off your wrists.
“My friends… they want to meet you.”
His words catch you off guard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Meet...me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.
As soon as he confirms with a simple nod, you feel a tightness in your chest. An explosion in your mind. A vortex of thoughts, all overwhelming, non-stop.
Each second you try to breathe, the knot in your chest tightens, sitting, carving a bigger hole where your happiness had just been—
“Yes,” he confirms, his hands soothingly rubbing circles on your hips as though noticing your sudden tension. “I think, maybe, I’ve talked about you too much?”
Running your teeth over your lip, you feel a piece of skin. One sticking up, not as smooth as the rest. Lip balm would solve it, fix it—but you pick at it anyway, pick, pick, pick—
Running your teeth over your lip, you notice a stray piece of skin, protruding slightly, disrupting the otherwise smooth surface. Lip balm would fix it, effortlessly smooth it out—but despite knowing this, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to pick at it. Listening to him as he explains, hearing names, a day suggested. As you compulsively pick, pick, pick—
Until he says your name.
Soft. Gentle. So cautiously spoken it makes your heart do a double take as you taste copper on your tongue.
“Are you sure? I mean, I want to. I just… don’t want to intrude or anything,” you reply, and you know it’s left your mouth shaky, bathed in nerves.
Attempting to shake the suds from your hands, hoping to fling off the worries with it, you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. Mind a flurry, a snowstorm of ifs, buts and maybes.
Because meeting his friends is a significant step—a thing you’re happy about, pleased he feels the same way. Yet, you're also terrified.
Digging your hip into the counter because of it, rooting yourself as you flex your fingers.
“Hey.” His fingers gently lift your chin, forcing you to look up at him; eyes full of warmth and reassurance. "You wouldn't be intruding, baby. They're… they’re like my family and… I want them to meet the person I can’t stop thinking about.”
Shoulders sliding down from your ears, you move to rest your hands on his waist. “You really talk about me that much?”
Scrunching his nose, he smiles. “A bit.”
“Okay,” you agree, your voice sounding more confident than you feel. “I'll meet your friends.”
“Great,” he grins, his relief evident. He pulls you close, hugging you tightly. “Benny—the one who fights—that's who we'll be supporting.”
“When?”
He frowns, but vanishes it away as though realising you hadn't been listening. “Not this weekend, but next. They’re going to love you, I promise.”
“I hope so,” you whisper into his chest, your heart rate trying its best to slow down.
I need you to tell me what I need to do with the office room, if your friends happen to not like me.
They’re going to like you.
But if they don’t.
Rainy, they will. Introducing you is more so they don’t think I’ve made you up.
You have a habit of making up people?
No. But apparently, the way I talk about you makes it seem like you’re made up.
Why?
Because you’re perfect.
I am not.
You are, but let’s have that battle another day. What are you worried about?
It sits there, in your fingers. The answer to his question.
Foot kicking out at your kitchen island, laptop light illuminating your face as you roll your tongue over your lips.
Foot kicking out nervously at the kitchen island, the harsh glow of the laptop casting an eerie light across your face, you roll your tongue over your lips.
A nervous tic. One you find yourself repeating—letting it trace over the same path again and again, desperately seeking a sense of calm that seems perpetually out of reach.
The question doing its rounds, spinning and swirling: What are you worried about? What are you worried about?
Like a bell has been wrung, it blares out. The answer.
It vibrates through your bones and comes back to you in an echo. Almost a chorus: That I’m not good enough.
A thing you’ve done well to ignore, to stuff down. But now, it's crawling up out of its boxes, the tape having barely kept it down, flapping about in the whirlwind of worries in your head.
As your phone screen dims, memories flood, recalling the evidence. The words flung at you, feelings you’ve wrestled with in bathrooms at loud parties and brutal quiet nights; arguments in places that don’t feel like home and tears against brick walls that cut shoulders.
Unlocking your phone, you tighten your jaw because he's not like them. He's good, kind. A sudden unwillingness to bend to insecurity roaring inside of you as you list every good thing about him; not willing to let a good thing be ruined by things that could never happen.
Sliding your fingers over the screen, you type words that seem easier, less difficult to confess:
Living up to the stories you’ve said.
No stories, just a mention of your name and apparently a smile they’ve not seen in a while.
With a mouth-closed grin, you purse your lips.
Reading over the message again and again as your teeth sneak out to bite your lip, thumbs darting out over the phone’s keyboard.
Would it be okay to pick you up?
You want to pick me up?
I do.
Yeah, sure. I was going to offer to pick you up.
I think I’d like to pick you up, and if I don’t make a fool out of myself, would you like to stay over?
I’ll pack your robe.
As soon as he throws his bag into the backseat and slips into your car, you feel at ease.
The drive over to grab him had been a combination of whispered mutterings about how it was going to be fine and a mind full of all the ways it wouldn’t be.
It’s further helped when his lips press to your cheek, allowing hands to loosen on the steering wheel, and when that low voice sweeps over you as he greets you—as other words hang there unspoken.
You almost say it on sight, I've missed you.
Because you have. A week and a half of messages and phone calls sufficing, but you’ve missed his presence, his face, the chance to brush your fingers over his cheek.
“You look nice.”
Eyes widening, he stares down at himself, palms brushing out over his thighs. “Me?”
“No, the ghost you brought with you—of course, you.”
Snorting, he fastens his seatbelt. “Says you, hermosa.”
“Smooth talker.”
The drive to the fight continues with similar, gentle teasing, all comfortable conversation filling the vehicle. He begins to fill you in on the new developments in the saga of Luca’s newfound love for blanket forts rendering the living room a disaster and you about the sign-off on the work you'd been worked up over.
As you navigate the roads, excitedly sharing about how you've picked a wallpaper you like, Frankie's warm hand finds a home on your thigh, his thumb idly tracing patterns over the fabric of your jeans as he continues talking.
No smirk, nothing. Just the usual smile, as if he'd done this before.
Yet, he hasn't. Unfamiliar sensations surge through your body, catching you off guard, body all ill-prepared for the way it warms you. It almost urges you to shuffle in your seat so his hand rises north; Electricity crackles along your veins, accompanied by a tightening in your abdomen that refuses to dissipate. And, it only worsens when he coughs and his hand grips you a little tighter.
As more of the cityscape flits past your windows, you steal glances at Frankie. His profile illuminated intermittently by the passing street lights, shadows highlighting the rugged contours of his face.
By the time you're pulling into the parking lot, you wish the drive had been longer. Momentarily, you press your thighs together, for reprieve. Only doing so when his hand moves to open the door, the liveliness and music spilling out onto the sidewalk as he comes around the vehicle to take your hand.
“So, where will your friends be?”
Frankie tightens his hand on yours, leading you, holding the door open. “They’ll be in the locker room. Will is Ben’s non-official trainer.”
Nodding, you smile, letting him lead until the two of you come to a stop at the bar—him asking you what you’d like, giving you a look that says please don’t fight me as he takes out his wallet.
“You not needed there?” Shaking his head, ordering drinks as he faces his head forward but his eyes slide down to you. “And what are you, what's your role?”
“His other non-official, less present trainer.”
“You slacker.”
Shrugging, he shakes his head, paying for the drinks. “I know, so much free time to do it too.”
Grinning, you follow him to a spot out of the line, sliding your arm around his back, curling into him—the ice cubes in your plastic cup colliding in the fizziness of your drink.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Because you missed me?”
His mouth opens, parts—the tip of his tongue peeking out as you feel his chest expand before relaxing. “Yeah. Nine days was too long.”
Biting the inside of your cheek, you slide your hand under his jacket, it taking a moment, more awkward than full of ease before you can fan your fingers out against him.
“Technically, it was five—if you count me half-waving to you when I came in to get a screwy.”
Almost spluttering as he takes a sip, he clears his throat, staring down. “You can’t call it a screwy?”
Narrowing your eyes, smirking away. “And why not, Morales?”
“Because suena mal... dirty,” he argues, trying to suppress a laugh.
Your eyebrow raises in question, but before you can retort, his lips are on yours, effectively silencing you. The place around you is all of a sudden silent, muted—as if no one else is around at all. The ring, the lights, and all of the people blurring into nothing, not as your fingers tease over his chin, as your mouth reminds itself what his feels like.
Pulling back, mouth hovering close to his. “So, what do I need to know about your friends? Outside of the obvious.”
The obvious is that they all served together. Frankie had explained it one night as you cooked for yourself, him on a shelf—face filling the screen as you sliced and brewed on the stove.
It was clinically given, top-level you'd been sure. Just the need to know—the need to understand.
“Well, Ben is loud—but he’s gentle. Will is a bit protective, especially since we've all been through a lot together," he begins, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. “But they're good people. They're upfront and honest.”
“Does Harold like them?”
Tutting, he pauses as he lifts the plastic cup to his lips. “The only person Harry likes is you. And his own family.”
“I’ll be sure to drop that in conversation then. Show them I’m one stamp approved already.”
Tilting your chin up, he licks his lips—slowly, intently. “You have nothing to worry about, alright?” You nod, trying to take in his words. “I mean it.”
“Okay.”
Kissing the top of your head, Frankie keeps his arm around you. Even when Benny's name is shouted and the crowd goes wild.
I think they like me.
Are you texting me from the bathroom?
Maybe. But, I think it’s going well.
Baby, are you peeing and texting me?
No! I dried my hands and then messaged you.
So you’re leaning against a dirty wall texting me.
Are you grinning like an idiot at your phone?
Don’t answer I can see it.
Shut up.
If that’s the grin you wear when I message you, no wonder they wanted to meet me.
Basta!
You're cute when you're flustered. Can see the red climbing up your neck from here.
Come back and keep me company.
Grin a bit more and I might.
Rainy.
Fuck you're handsome, Butterscotch.
NEXT CHAPTER ->
an: while the meeting happens off-paper (haha wanted to say off-screen) all meetings won't appear like this 👀. we knew they'd love her, and in time we'll see how much. also, her texting him in the bathroom may be my fave thing she's done off her own accord (i am merely just a body and fingers when rainy begins talking to me)
#frankie morales x reader#francisco morales x reader#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales#triple frontier x reader#francisco morales fanfiction#triple frontier fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#francisco catfish morales x reader#catfish morales x reader#pedrostories#jo: dmy#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction
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little wallflower | bradley bradshaw x hearing impaired!reader
disclaimer: hello all. i wrote this for all of my lovelies who have loss of hearing, or have any type of hearing impairment, or am hearing and want to read a cute little fic. i myself am hearing, and i took a bit of inspiration from me being bradley, seeing as i work with a wonderful person who's deaf, and they are SO helpful and encouraging in my journey to get better at signing. if there are any inaccuracies, i apologise profusely - i tried my best to research what i could. seeing as i'm not american, i am learning ssl, and hope that I got the american signs right. please tell me what you think?<3
warnings: ignorance about hearing disabilities (nothing malicious at all, just good ol' norm thinking), bob being the mvp and a sweetheart, cursing. no use of y/n.
word count: 2.5K.
description: Bradley had seen you sitting on your own many times, and was bewildered as to why no one was talking to you.
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Bradley had noticed you a few times, often sitting by yourself nursing a beverage. Sometimes you were looking at your phone, and other times you were just observing the surroundings, smiling softly at the people who milled around. Bradley had never really seen you interact with anyone at all, except for ordering beverages from Penny, and then you always showed her your phone - something that puzzled Rooster a little. Perhaps you wanted to see if she had a particular drink that wasn’t too easy to get ahold of? Either way, he was enthralled by you. The way your soft smile lit up your face, and the way you seemed to be a little bit of a wallflower intrigued him. He also found himself wondering why you were always sitting alone. He’d only seen you once with another person, a friend who was gesticulating as you laughed - it was a very pretty sound, he decided, before he was ripped away by Payback to play pool.
Bradley always walked into the Hard Deck thinking that this would be the night he’d go over and talk to you - ask what you were drinking, where you were from, if you’d like to go out with him… but every time he chickened out, afraid that such a pretty person wouldn’t want a ruddy naval aviator who smelled of jet fuel and couldn’t stay in one place for too long. He kept his distance for a few weeks, stealing longing glances whenever he could.
One day, as he was sipping his beer slowly, Phoenix approached him with a roll of her eyes “When are you gonna make a move, Rooster? You’ve been staring for weeks,” she inquired, raising a brow at her friend.
“Make a move? Rooster?” Hangman smirked, letting his sentence hang in the air to rattle Rooster a little “who are we talking about?” Jake continued, his eyes scanning the filled bar. Natasha nodded her head towards you, and Hangman followed her gaze.
“Oh them? Don’t bother Rooster, they completely ignored me the other day. Wouldn’t even respond to my question,” this had Bob scoffing out an uncharacteristic laugh, that sounded somewhat like he was telling Jake that he was being an idiot. Hangman furrowed his brows, looking at Bobs’ smiling face “what’s with him?” He muttered as the WSO went up to get another bottle of water.
Rooster simply shrugged, watching you make your way over to the bar, near where Bob was stood.
“C’mon Roos, go talk to them!” Phoenix gave him a gentle push in your direction, and Bradley could feel butterflies thrash around his midsection as he cleared his throat before approaching you. You seemed to be deep in thought, waiting for Penny to help Bob with his order.
Standing next to you, Rooster looked down and smiled at you, before saying hi. You didn’t seem to notice at all, and Bradley suddenly wondered if perhaps Jake was right - you completely ignored him. Now, Rooster thought of himself as well raised - he didn’t want to touch you without your consent, but he also didn’t want to give up, even though being ignored was a pretty big sign you weren’t exactly interested.
He had to, though - he had to hear you say you weren’t interested before he gave up. So he reached out gingerly, only hesitating for a second before softly tapping your shoulder. You jumped as if you hadn’t noticed him standing there at all, and as you turned to look at him, your eyes had turned wide with surprise.
“Hi, I’m so sorry. I’m Rooster— I mean, my name’s Bradley, but uh I’m called Rooster by— uh… I was just wondering if I could buy you a drink?” He was rambling. Since when didn’t he know how to speak to a beautiful person? He could hear Bob barely containing his laughter behind him, and he had to fight the sudden urge to throw an elbow back to shut him up. You blinked, opening and closing your mouth a couple of times, with a pained expression. Damn. He’d blown it. He sighed and nodded slowly “I get it, sorry to have bothered you,” he felt dejected as he turned to leave, but stopped as he felt your hand on his wrist, and heard a sound that resembled “No”. It was soft, and little too quiet to actually make it audible in the loud, boisterous environment you were in.
He turned back, looking at you quizzically as you lifted a finger into the air - signalling him to wait as you tapped away on your phone. A frustrated noise left your throat as you scrambled to find the notes app you’d installed on your phone.
“They can’t hear you,” Bob spoke up from behind Rooster, coming to stand beside his pilot friend. Bradley looked at him, bewildered - what did that mean? Bob quickly waved a hand in front of your face, and Rooster slapped his arm - what the fuck was he doing? That was rude as hell. Bob only shook his head and laughed at Bradley’s exasperated look.
As you looked up, Bob smiled at you before signing with his hands swiftly. Rooster took in how your facial expression went from relieved to elated, smiling as you replied with your hands.
“Do you want me to translate what my idiot friend said?” Bob spoke softly as he signed, making that beautiful laugh fall from your lips again. Oh my god, Rooster thought, both he and Hangman were fucking idiots. You couldn’t hear them. He almost groaned at his ignorance.
He thought of himself as a man that was very ‘with it’. He considered himself a feminist, he thought everyone should be treated the same and that no person held any particular advantage over any other - he felt that people could believe in what they wanted and say what they wished as long as it didn’t hurt or put others at risk. But he had actually never really ransacked himself about his knowledge about hearing disabilities, which he felt slightly ashamed over now.
He watched you nod with a big grin, and he had to trust that Bob translated what he said (favourably, he hoped, perhaps Bob would take pity on him and wouldn’t translate into ASL how he’d fumbled it all). He watched you furrow your brow as Bob signed something that Bradley could only guess was “Rooster”, tapping his forehead twice with his thumb, his middle finger and pointer finger forming a V. He couldn’t be sure, but it made sense in his mind.
You locked eyes with him and his heart stuttered a bit as you smiled, repeated the sign Bob had made to his forehead and softly spoke “Rooster?” And then pointed right at him.
“They’re asking if you’re called Rooster” Bob smiled, he didn’t doubt that Bradley had surely understood, but Bob could tell that Rooster felt a little frozen under your gaze - and he figured he’d help kickstart this conversation by breaking Bradley’s little trance.
“Oh, yeah! I’m Rooster. Or Bradley.” He looked at you and then Bob before hesitantly trying to copy the sign they had made. You laughed and moved closer, adjusting his hand so it was at the correct angle before nodding at him with a big smile. Oh god, those butterflies came back with a vengeance having you standing so close to him.
“How do you sign ‘thanks’?” Rooster almost panicked, looking at Bob - was he being rude by asking Bob instead of you? Bob just smiled and put his fingertips, his palm open but not spread, to his chin before sliding it outwards ‘thank you’ he said softly. Rooster repeated the sign to your smiling face, and he felt as if he could stare at the way your eyes twinkled happily forever. It made his heart clench.
“I’m sorry that I assumed you could hear me,” Bradley said and watched as Bob made a fist, circling it in the middle of his chest before signing something else that was too fast for Bradley to differentiate. You just smiled at him and shook your head, Bradley took that to mean “don’t worry about it”, your facial expressions were so vivid and beautiful to him.
You signed rapidly to Bob for a few moments, holding your phone out briefly before you stopped. Bob smiled and turned to Rooster “They say they’re pretty good at reading lips, and that you two can use the notes app or texts if they can’t understand. You’re on your own now, pal” Bob smiled, patting Bradley’s shoulder.
“Bob, thank you so much. I had no idea you knew how to sign!” Bradley sighed, really feeling surges of gratitude to the WSO. Bob smiled before replying that his parents couldn’t hear, and he learned to sign and talk at the same time.
“That’s fascinating,” Rooster replied with a smile as you signed something to Bob that made him laugh. “What did they say?” Bradley asked eagerly, and Bob shook his head. “They said they appreciated me translating, but that they had a hard time with my accent” Bob smiled at Roosters bewildered face.
“I’ll educate you later. Have fun, man!” He simply said before retreating to the pool table. You took a hold of his hand gingerly, and Bradley felt his heartbeat pick up slightly at the feeling of your warm skin against his.
Making your way to the table you’d occupied earlier, he sat down opposite you. He felt a little out of his depth at first, talking whilst your eyes flickered between his lips and his eyes - but as he got more used to you taking a moment to write down a reply, or speaking shorter sentences in response, he felt as he would with any other person. He just wished he could sign as efficiently as Bob did, it would make everything so much easier for you. He wanted to learn how to sign so you wouldn’t have to concentrate so much on reading his lips. Why hadn’t he learned from the jump? It seemed silly now that not everyone was taught sign language in school.
You spent the night in that booth, laughing and getting to know each other, finding that you had quite a lot in common. Bradley thought you were just the sweetest, and he tried his best to not offend you or ask stupid questions - though sometimes they slipped out anyways. Like when he asked what type of music you listened to. He could kick himself. He actually apologized profusely before he saw you shake your head before typing on your phone.
“I hear a little bit. They call my impairment ‘severe’, but I can still hear some loud noises, and I love music that has a lot of bass in it - I love the thrum of the melody it gives” you smiled kindly at him, and he smiled back, grateful that you didn’t seem to mind explaining the most obvious things to him.
“It’s okay to ask about, you know? I don’t mind if there’s anything else you’re curious about,” you’d typed in after a beat, showing him the screen. He read the words quickly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, speaking slowly he asked how it was that you spoke - could you hear yourself? He felt stupid asking, but your voice was so sweet and soft, he was puzzled as to how one could form words without hearing them.
You smiled, typing away on your phone. You’d apparently lost your hearing after having learnt to talk, which made it easier to maintain the feeling of speaking certain sentences and words. You explained you preferred sign language, just because you couldn’t tell if your volume was too loud or too quiet, which explained why you’d spoken so softly, not wanting to seem like you were shouting.
Bradley smiled, mesmerized about your abilities, and he told you so as well. He could tell you were blushing at his compliment and that made him smile all the wider. Suddenly you took hold of his hand and held it to your throat before typing a quick “I can tell somewhat from how the vibrations feel in my throat when I speak - but it’s hard to tell what volume it’s at” and then you said “Rooster” out loud with that sweet voice Bradley had already come to love, even if it didn’t sound like everyone else. Perhaps that’s why he liked it so much. He could feel the vibrations that thrummed in your vocal chords, and he smiled. He’d never thought about any of these things.
You lifted your hand, raising a brow as if to ask a question, and he nodded - you placed your hand on his Adam’s apple. He laughed before saying that he thought you were beautiful. You smiled, looked down and blushed again before clearing your throat and slowly saying “You have a nice voice,”
Bradley beamed at the compliment “Yeah?” You nodded before typing “I can tell” with a little wink. God, he was a goner.
All too soon, Penny announced last round - and he made sure to swap numbers with you. You emptied your drink and typed out “I had a great time tonight. I’ll text you?” You smiled uncertainly, and he typed back “So did I. Please do text me so I know you’ve gotten home safe?” You grinned and nodded before wrapping your arms around his neck in a parting hug, waving goodbye sweetly before making your way out of the Hard Deck.
“Wow,” Rooster let out a breath as he made his way back to his friends who were slow to make it to the front door. Making eye contact with Hangman, Bradley groaned and said “Hangman, we’re fucking idiots,”
“I don’t even want to talk about it,” Hangman replied with a similar type of “fuck I’m dumb” groan. Bob was silently laughing behind them “That was absolutely golden,” he sniggered, throwing his arms around their shoulders and shaking them “Just two dumb pilots, huh?” He and Phoenix laughed.
“Jesus,” Rooster shook his head. “Bob. This was 'Rooster', right?” He signed and Bob nodded, laughing again “and 'thank you'” he repeated what Bob had showed him earlier. The WSO smiled and nodded at his friends eagerness.
“Can you help teach me sign language, Bob? I’d love to be able to talk to them better” Bradley sighed, wishing he could learn it all right this second. Bob smiled, he could tell this meant a lot to his friend, so therefore he said
“Of course, Brad. We’ll start with the alphabet tomorrow"
#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x oc#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x oc#rooster x reader#rooster x oc#rooster x you#tgm fic#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#my writing
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Tainted Love
Fic description: This is a dark fic. 18+ MINORS DNI. Dom!-coded Billy Loomis + hyperfeminine, sub-coded afab reader: they are married, committing crimes together <3 and having a wonderful domestic life <3 besides all the blood and murder. Smut/horror genre: kinks include service!, blood!, knifeplay!, ropes!, choking!, spanking!, free-use!, SERVICE, d/s mental dynamics, majorrrr daddy!kink, exhibitionism
If you like this post, pls engage, comment, reblog! It means so much to me, Ty <3 WC 2.7k
October 10, 1996.
The dark red, yellow, with tinges of brown leaves tumbled down the secluded suburban street. A tan cottage stood at the end of a cul-de-sac, yard neatly trimmed, wind chimes ringing on the porch where they hung. A dim light inside. A black van pulls into the driveway, scaring away a few neighboring birds. The door shuts — a young man enters the house.
——
You were just about finished with tonight’s dinner when your partner came back from college. You loved Billy dearly, and so you did almost everything for him. It was your dynamic — and he loved it as well. You served him, your Billy, your daddy.
How exactly did you get involved with a serial killer? Involved far enough to be an equal partner in his crimes? Involved enough to be so cautious and excellent at keeping first-degree murder a secret? Involved enough to live with him?
—-
It began last fall. A chilly November morning, fog rolling in on the campus. You walked in your pretty pink outfit, donning lace and frills, kitten heels, and butterfly hair clips. You were only nineteen. Young. Innocent. You were looking for your ‘Introduction to Early Modern Literature’ class, yet happened to wander over on the other, more secluded side of campus. You stumble over a rock on the sidewalk. You fall, beautiful rosy cheek now stained with a gash of bright, red blood.
Your hands, your knees, cut up from the bumpy pavement. You start crying. This was just too embarrassing!! With your social anxiety and shyness, you really hoped nobody had seen this. You did not like to be perceived by people — that is just how you were. You look around — not a soul to be seen.
Except for a man — lean, sitting on a brick bench, cigarette in hand. You couldn’t make out how he looked, yet fear overtook you as he started making his way over. You start to scramble up, hoping to run away from him, yet your bruises were just too intense for you to do so.
His deep voice asks you, “Hey, sweetheart, you okay? You nod. “Yeah jus’ a few scratches. Can’t see too well in the fog,” you sheepishly explain. “Hey, no worries. Here, I’ll help you up, yeah?” You oblige, taking his big calloused hands in yours as he helps you stand. You finally get a good look at him. God — he was handsome. More than handsome. Extremely, extremely, attractive. You got wet just by looking at his deep brown eyes and crooked smile looking down at you.
“Hey. Don’t be too shy, hun. Come. Want me to help you fix those bruises? There’s a bathroom right around the corner, he suggests. You nod silently, agreeing, following him to a door on the left.
He begins wiping your bruises with a wet towel, trying to stop the bleeding. His tongue pokes out of his mouth as he focuses. You see more of him now. He wears all black. Smells like cigarettes and a dusty old basement. “So what brings you to this part of campus?,” he asks, brown eyes focused on your bruises.
“Just got lost. Needed to find one class but couldn’t. Maybe I’ll skip today anyway…,” you trail off. “Aw. Today’s your first day huh?,” he coos at you, with a smile you just couldn’t figure out. “Um. Yes. I don’t really know the campus, so…,” you quietly answer him, afraid to look into his eyes. His voice, his face, it all made you thirst for him even more.
“I could tell. Hey. Maybe you should skip. Been looking for someone to hang out with,” he suggests, finishing up cleaning your bruises, putting a few bandaids on you. “I’m Billy, by the way.” You introduce yourself to him, a little smile forming on your face. You ended up skipping class that day, spending time with him in that secluded courtyard, smoking cigarettes, listening to The Smiths. You ended up fucking in the bathroom a few hours later. You knew that you were indubitably attracted — glued to him and everything that he was. Something did feel a little off about how he treated others — you did not care.
So it was.
——
~Present day ~
You hear the keys jingle in the doorway, heavy boots make their way towards the kitchen, where you were. You currently donned a short little black dress, fishnets, with nothing underneath. You were waiting for him.
“Hey, sweets. Looking good today,” he compliments you, as he takes your small hand in his, moving you closer to him, wrapping a hand around your waist. You giggle as he peppers your cheek with kisses. “Sweetie. Want’a ask you something,” he insists, quietly, yet confidently. Your big eyelashes blink as you wait for his question.
“Wanna play with me tonight?,” a sinister smile adorns his face, his brown eyes filled with a hint of malice, excitement. Your eyes match his. You loved playing with him, your sessions, where you gave over complete control of yourself, to him. You trusted him completely. He led, you followed.
You were his. His prey, his little girl, his accomplice. You were his, devoted completely, mind and body. The two of you even had matching tattoos: a forever symbol of your unique relationship.
“Yes, daddy. What first?” He chuckles lowly. “Glad you asked, princess. We’re going to the van.” You smile back at him, as he gives you a kiss, pulling you closer to him by your neck. You knew what to do, sticking your hands out, as he takes a rope from the nearby drawer.
The rope felt nice around your wrists, you liked to watch him tie it. You didn’t want your freedom when you played with him. “Daddy’s girl, all tied up, huh? Come sweets. Let’s go to the van,” he sneers at you in the best possible way, as he leads you outside. Still, he manages to grab a coat for you, alongside some knives. You suspected that both of you will be using those later.
“Before we leave our house, thought we might have a bit of fun in the van, what’dya say? I think it’ll be nice for my little girl, yeah?,” he croons at you, caressing your cheek, before gripping it harshly, brown eyes boring into yours.
You’re on your knees for him in his dingy van. His waffle knit white t-shirt feels nice on your bound hands, as you see him start to unbuckle his belt, dropping his jeans to the floor of the van. “Give daddy’s cock some love, hun,” you hear, and his strong arms work to push you down to the floor. You look up at him from your back, you see him towering over you, cock in his calloused hand, slowly rubbing it. He lowers his cock and balls onto your face, you love the feeling of his heavy ball sack on your chin. His cock was wide, not too long, yet wide, weeping, with three beautiful veins and a beauty mark <3
It was all red and ready for your wet throat. You took him eagerly, sucking so much pressure, you felt his silky smooth voice moan out in ecstasy. You keep sucking, swirling your tongue around the mushroom tip of his cockhead. He pulls a knife to the side of your cheek. You stop.
“Look what daddy’s got here hun. You don’t like this little toy, do you?,” he taunts. With that, he lowers the knife to your chest, where he makes a gentle cut on it. He liked to cut you with his knife. Another way to possess you, to mark you as HIS.
“Get up, sweets. Daddy’s gonna cum if you keep this shit up.” He chuckles, and helps you up, wiping that little cut he made with a towel. That same towel now goes in your mouth as a makeshift gag.
His hands tightly grip your hips, pushing you down onto the floor of the van again. Hips spread, gagged, hands still tied, you felt his finger swipe across your clit, down your labia, trailing over your wet, wet, pussy. Your hole was clenching around nothing!! He was going to fix that.
“Aww. Look at you , sweetie. Cheeks all rosy, ass up for me, ready to be bred,” he taunts. You only moan in response. “Does daddy’s little girl want to be bred, hmm? Like a little cow?” You moan in response, he tuts, and lifts your neck up gently. “What was that?,” voice low. Shit. You fucked up.
“Yes, daddy,” your voice is muffled through the gag. He smiles again, that dark smile of his. Sinister. Evil. Exactly what you wanted to see. Without warning, you feel him push into you. Wide, throbbing, filling that sweet spot exactly how you wanted. He went slow for just a little, relishing how good his little girl, his breeding cow, dumpster, was for him. Then he went fast. Too fast. You loved hearing the sound of his cock and balls slap against your ass, your squelching pussy <3
You feel so full of him, you saw stars as his wife cock drilled deeper and deeper into you. You felt him twitch inside, your favorite part!! “Take my cum, baby. Fuckin’ take it,” you hear him grunt, as his hands press your body down into a mating press, his stomach now on top of your back. He had you caged in, tied, gagged, absolutely abusing you on his wide cock. You were in heaven. You were his now, in this moment. The both of you came, and of course, he did not let you squeeze his cum out of you.
“Keep it in, hmm? Want our visitors to know that you’re daddy’s girl.” You nod and smile, making grabby hands at him once he unties your wrists, and takes the towel out of your mouth. He lifts you up into his lap, peppering your face with kisses, smiling up at you as you giggle.
He helps you get dressed, gently cooing at you as you show him the carpet burn you got from being on your knees for so long. He kisses it to make it better <3 and even puts on your white frilly socks for you, helping you with your little black kitten heels and your dress.
“Where to next, daddy?,” you giddily await his answer. “Now, we drive. To meet our special guests for tonight,” he replies, your smile now matching his level of sinister. The both of you were about to go have some fun, with some unconventional guests as well.
——-/
It was now almost midnight. After your play session in the van, you couldn’t wait to play in front of your guests!! The both of you listen to heavy metal as Billy speeds down an abandoned road, the rotting leaves blowing towards the sides from the van passing by on the road. He pulls his van up a few meters close to the woods, and parks.
“Coat, baby.” You nod, and he puts your black puffer on. He leads you to the backseat, where a black trunk with a lock is placed. He opens it. His mask. Ghostface. He puts it on his hip, putting on black clothes over his nice ones. He gives you gloves, and a knife. One for himself as well. Binoculars.
“Come, hun. This way.” You follow him up into a tree, where the both of you take turns with your binoculars. He takes out his block of a phone. How you loved the 90’s. He dials the number, telling you to watch their reaction in the windows. “Hi. What’s your favorite scary movie,” Billy's voice drawls out to his unsuspecting victims in the mansion that you were currently hiding outside of.
Billy continued to harass them on the phone, beckoning you down the tree quietly, and closer and closer to the person’s backyard. Billy stays on the phone, pointing at you to stay put, and opens the window on the first floor. You wait outside, as he slips on in.
You knew what to do. You’d wait for his signal, then follow him in. Then, came your favorite part: where Billy shows you off to his victims <3
You see his hand signal through the window. You step on inside, and see the couple tied to each other, this time with metal chains. Billy is wearing his mask. “Just in time for the show, sweetheart. Kneel.”
You do as said, loving the absolutely sadistic smile on his face right now. He puts on your leash ( only for when in front of un-consenting others) and has to crawl to sit at his knees. “You see here, my two pretties, you two are going to watch me fuck my little princess here. After that, I’ll decide if you get to live,” he chuckles in absolute glee.
“By the way, if you two decide to make a sound, or go at my little girl here, I’ll stab ya. Sounds good? My, my, what a perfect, scary movie,” he narrates to himself, to you, to the two victims, who looked like they were about to mentally lose it. <3
He skips with the foreplay, the blowjob, the fingering. He gets right to it. He wants his victims to see his pretty girl, on his own terms. He roughly pushes you down onto the floor, strong hands positioning your hips in place, giving your ass a few harsh spanks <3 you hear the belt buckle slip, and soon enough, you can feel the warmth of his already hard cock near your puffy pussy.
Your eyes are drawn to the couple. You loved being shown off, being watched. They did not want to watch you. But that is okay. Billy is going to make them. :)
They watch in horror as he starts rutting into you like a beast, bloody knife that he used on one of the victims nearing your neck, staying there. The knife soon drops, he gives it to you to hold as he starts losing control. You were too, feeling so full of him, getting an extra serving of his cum :) was your favorite thing to do.
You smiled as the couple looked on in horror. Billy pulled out just the last second before, and came all over your face. “Look so pretty with my cum all over your face, sweet girl. Clean it up f’me, yeah?” You nod.
After you wipe it off, Billy steps back in front of the two victims. “See how nicely I treat my girl? I’m her daddy, after all. Just wanted to show her to you. She’s mine, forever will be. What a nice show the two of you got,” he chuckles, before stabbing one of them, the screams could be heard from down the block.
Billy finished off the other one, not before giving her a good slap and punch. <3 The pool of blood covers the entire kitchen tiling, making it seem red everywhere. It’s on your shoes, on Billy’s. He takes his mask off, and picks you up in his arms.
“Did so good f’me today, sweet girl. So proud of you,” he praises you. “You did good too, Billy. I love how rough you are with them.” He smiles again, giving you a tender kiss. “Let’s leave, huh? Go back home, watch a scary movie?,” he asks. You nod, staying still in his arms as he carries you over the blood, and back out to the woods.
The two of you make it back to the van. They won’t catch you. As long as you’re together, everything was just fine.
#liz’s masterlist#billy loomis x y/n#billy loomis x reader#billy loomis smut#ghostface smut#ghostface x reader#billy loomis fanfiction#billy Loomis hot#ghostface imagine#stu macher smut#dark!billy loomis smut#liz writes 🖤#pls don’t let it flop I’m proud of it!
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Can I ask a another request? I had so much ideas in my mind ya.
poly!tf141 x male reader, who is higher rank than them maybe is a major, he has a cold personality with others, but not with his team one day the task force sees the male reader flirting with a another man when the task force decide to "punish" the reader ya?
smut please and sir kink
YES. birdy, thank you for this ‼️ I'll be tweaking it a tiny bit but HERE WE GO
Yes, Sir.
TW: sex, bodily fluids, graphic descriptions of that sex, a little bit of angst, flirting, punishing (sexual), sir kink, SMUT!!!
You were a major overseeing the task force 141. What a bunch of idiots. They were always getting hurt, especially soap when he didn't wear his helmet on that one mission. You really let him have it that one time. Thank goodness Ghost and Price were more serious than Soap and Gaz, or else you would probably go insane.
But, it didn't mean you didn't have a soft spot for them. I mean, you can't help how charismatic they are. How Ghost gives you an assuring nod when you're indecisive. Price calling you darling with his smooth voice, Gaz's hand slightly grazes your hips while he walks past. How soap looks into your eyes with that loving stare—it's too much for you. You love them too much.
So, you flirted with another man. This one.. let's just say was not like the 141. He was boring. He smelled like nothing while you could bury yourself into your boy's necks for hours.
Maybe it's for the better. The 141 should be focusing on missions, not you. You're above them after all, they should be calling you sir instead of [your name]. Much less [your nickname].
It did hurt you with the thought of them not loving you anymore. You'll miss their affection. But.. it's what is best. After excusing yourself, you just went to your office.
You hadn't noticed you fell asleep in your chair. As you awoke, the 4 men stood behind your desk.
"Ah- 141. Why are you here?" You tried to act natural, as if you weren't sleeping just seconds ago. We saw ye flirtin with that man. Soap spoke, clearly jealous. Actually, all the men looked some form of jealous. Gaz spoke up next. Yea. What's up with tha'? Ghost and Price scowled along with the other two.
"I don't understand the problem." You coldly replied. 'They shouldn't be fooling around with their superior. It was such a mistake to even get romantically involved with these people-'
Your thoughts were interrupted by a hug. Ghost had wrapped his arms around your smaller body. He didn't speak. He just.. held you. You couldn't help as your body melted under him. "...I'm sorry boys. It's just that I'm your superior and I didn't want to distract you. It's unfair, I'm a distraction." You hung your head low. The 3 others came and wrapped their arms around you.
It was quiet for some time in the office. It was nice. It wasn't a sad or awkward silence, just tranquility with your boys.
The following days were nicer. More calm. Soap and Gaz toned down their craziness a tad while Ghost brought you a cuppa occasionally. Some days, Price would take some of your papers and do them for you, taking some stress off your already overloaded brain.
You could sense they were a little bit upset still from when you flirted with that man. Soap and Gaz glared at him, Ghost was always somehow with you 24/7, and you even caught Price telling the man not to go anywhere near you. You had to find a way to calm their nerves...
This was so wrong. It was wrong for you to buy that stupid little lingerie set. 'Are you daft??' You screamed at your brain, but your body didn't stop putting the lace on you. After you were done, you looked into the mirror. You didn't look too bad, actually. You admired yourself, so much that you didn't notice all 4 boys come in.
You were so embarrassed. You didn't lock the door when you knew you'd be undressing!? Those poor boys!
You covered yourself and started spewing all sorts of apologies and excuses, until a finger covered your lips.
Shh, hush love. We all know why you bought those. Planning to seduce us, hmm?
Such a bad boy. What should we do?
I've go' a few ideas.
We should punish 'im.
I like your thoughts, Kyle.
The men came closer, as you felt your embarrassment fade away and arousal taking its place.
Just seconds later, you were on the floor.
I'm not sure boys. Should we fuck 'im with it on or tear it off him?
And waste this pretty view!? Captain, we can't do tha'!
The other two boys nodded, siding with Soap. Thank goodness, you spent so much money on this.
Sir, may I go in this hole? Gaz spoke, opening your legs and pushing aside the lace and caressing your rim. Fuck. You felt yourself harden at that word.
Wait just a minute! I wanna fuck 'im there! Soap protested, pushing Gaz aside.
Well then. What do you want, lovie?
You swallowed. "Well.. who says you both can't go at the same time?" You smiled.
Now, Gaz and Soap were holding your legs open and going down on you like a pair of dogs. Wolves, even. Your dick was painfully hard, tears of pleasure and pain pricking the sides of your eyes.
You looked up to Ghost, your pleading eyes telling him everything. You poor thing. Ghost spoke, his hand drifting down to your neglected dick and stroking it. You humped his hand, arching your back, praying for a release.
"Please, please Ghost make me cum." You begged.
Yes, sir.
Your release found you, coating Ghost's hand in a sticky substance.
I guess we've found sir's kink. Soap chuckled, fist bumping Gaz. Your dick hardened again, earning a pathetic whimper from you. Want us to keep goin' sir? You nodded hastily.
You felt Price's dick touch your fingertips, and you accepted by dragging your hand up and down it. Ghost sped up on your own dick, making you release more than you could even count at the time, as your mind was clouded with ecstasy.
Hours later, your body was filled with cum. It was satisfying to be so full.. especially by the men you loved. They took care of your tired body, cleaning you up and canceling your meetings for the day. They just let you rest. Of course, until Soap slipped up and called you sir. Your dick hardened again.. and who were the boys than to refuse seconds?
#cod modern warfare#kyle gaz garrick#john mactavish#gay#simon ghost riley#john price#cod#john soap mactavish#tf 141#sudzysasks#tf 141 x reader#task force 141#141 x reader#cod 141#mw2 141#poly 141#poly 141 x reader
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I love your Seonghwa unholy hours!
I've always been a fan of mommy hwa... I mean, who isn't? But what about noona/unnie Yeosang? I don't really see a lot of fem Yeosang, but just what if there's a fem dom yeosang?
-🍓
Oh bunny, that is so sweet. In fact, I have literally discussed this with my other bunny and I think that apart from Hwa (who is very obvious), we have several other members who could be perfect for the role of a caring and sweet mommy and Yeosang is one of them.
But for now, our focus is on our beauty Yeo. I am very moody for the second day in a row and for some reason I am in desperate need of care and comfort. So I will spoil you with something loving and tender.
And so, tender and soft Unnie Yeosang pampers her baby by licking her nipples + NSFW link. You have been warned.
NSFW link highlighted in text
Whenever you were feeling needy and tender, Seonghwa was always the first person you turned to. He was naturally gentle and respectful, and you knew that your beautiful mommy would take perfect care of you, pampering you and making you feel like you were royalty.
But today, Seonghwa wasn't around to help you with that feeling, so you decided to see if there was anyone else at home to spoil and cuddle you.
The dormitory was quite quiet. It was very different from the usual chaotic and noisy atmosphere that always seemed to reign in their home.
When you walked in, Yeosang was reading a book on the plush sofa in the living room. As always, you couldn't help but be amazed by his beauty. Yeosang was an Aphrodite in male form, and you couldn't even understand why he wanted to go out with you when he could get anyone with a snap of his fingers. There he is—beautiful and glowing—your gorgeous boyfriend. Your Unnie.
"Sangie, I... can you please hug me?" Your voice was weak and soft as you looked up at him, hesitantly, through the flutter of your lashes.
"Come here, darling." He put the book down and allowed you to sit down on his lap so that your face was buried in the crook of his neck.
Yunho's oversized shirt slipped off your shoulders, revealing your plump chest in a cute pink bra with frills. Oh, you're a cute little girl. "What is it, darling? Are you feeling a little needy?" It was so intimate, whispering in your ear as his fingers drew intricate patterns on your bare shoulder skin. You wished that it could go on like this forever, but at the same time, everything that he was doing was making you feel even more aroused.
"A little, that's... I was looking for Hwa, but he's not home right now. Can you take care of me...Unnie?"
Ah, that's it. The mere utterance of that word was enough for Yeosang to understand what it was you wanted.
"Of course your Unnie will take care of you, darling, just tell me what it is you want?" His wet, soft lips pressed against your shoulder, leaving a soft, short kiss before he moved higher up and peppered your neck with kisses. "Do you want me to put my fingers inside that warm little pussy of yours, darling? Or maybe my tongue? Hmm, you just have to ask and Unnie will give it all to you. I'm gonna take such good care of you, darling."
"Unnie, could you suck me titties? I've got a tender spot here tonight." You still didn't look up at Yeosang, preferring instead to press your face against the warm skin of his neck. God, he smelled so good - like freshly laundered sheets with a sprinkling of flowers. The scent was fresh but soft, and it was a perfect description of Yeosang. He was just like a fairy.
"If that is your wish, my love," Yeosang pulled away from you just long enough to help you take off your shirt and your bra. He didn't think for a minute before running his tongue over the hard, pink nipple of your sensitive, soft breast in front of him.
"A-ah..unnie." You moaned softly as a warm wet tongue pressed against your nipple, one of Yeosang's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, your pussy pressed against his hard cock, his other hand squeezing your tit.
He looked up at you with his bright puppy eyes, pulling away from your tits for a moment.
"Does that feel good, my love? Do you like it when your unnie licks your nipples?" he asked.
"That feels so good; please go on with it." The sound of your voice was more of a whimper than anything else.
Yeosang's tongue slid over the sensitive nipple once more, lapping at it before he took it into his mouth and gave it a light suck.
The stimulation made your thighs twitch slightly in the hope of relieving the pressure that was beginning to build up between your legs. Your wet cunt was rubbing against Yeosang's hard, thick cock, smearing her juices all over his grey tracksuit bottoms. You were already a mess. Yeosang kissed one of your nipples gently, then kissed it again and again before he slowly ran his tongue over your warm, sensitive skin. He continued to run his tongue over the soft skin as his hand played with your other breast, and when he heard you breathing faster, Yeosang gently bit your sensitive nipple.
You moaned, arching your back and pushing your tits even closer to his mouth. Biting your lip and tangling your fingers in your unnie's silky hair, you felt a wonderful flutter in the pit of your stomach. Your rounded cheeks were so hot and red as you noticed Yeosang looking at you, his beautiful lips wrapped around your nipple as he sucked sweetly at your breast, his eyes filled with adoration and overwhelming love. He was such a fool in love with you. You had them all wrapped around your tiny, pretty little finger and didn't even realise it.
As Yeosang sucks your nipple harder into his mouth and his fingers rub your other nipple, an intoxicating, exciting sensation shoots through your cunt. You scream out the name of your beautiful unnie and come. Your juices spill out of your panties and onto Yeosang's trousers, leaving a big wet spot on his crotch.
He flicks his tongue over your nipple a couple of more times before he lets it out of his mouth with a little pop.
"Did you have fun, my darling? Did you get what you wanted? Or is your unnie going to have to start caring for you more?" Yeosang asks gently, lifting his hips slightly and rubbing his thick cock against your sensitive cunt.
It goes without saying: You will never refuse to be pampered and praised by the boys.
#ateez smut#kpop smut#atz smut#ateez hard hours#ateez unholy hours#smut#ateez scenarios#ateez au#ateez x reader#yeosang smut#ateez fanfic#kang yeosang smut
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Nothing But You | Bang Chan/Reader
Pairing: wolf hybrid!Bang Chan x f!human!Reader
Genre: hybrid AU; non-idol AU, strangers to lovers; love in adversity; cozy one-shot; fluff and angst
Word Count: 1434
Summary: The world's not ready for your love, but that doesn't matter. None of it matters - nothing but him.
Part 2: Evergreen (though both can be read as stand-alone works)
Content Warnings: I'd give this a PG-13 for content, but ALL of my work is 18+ (minors, dni); cuddling; co-sleeping; bad weather (but safe indoors); shirtless Chris (Chan is called Christopher); descriptions of hybrid physical features (including some minimal body hair); depictions of prejudice towards, discrimination, and marginalization of hybrids; a character gets lost and is momentarily frightened; allusions to sexual intimacy; implied domestic violence (by an authority figure, not Chris); running away; mention of reproduction (pups); for some reason even though it is explicitly stated I feel the need to mention that Reader and Chris are both adults throughout
Author's Note: I'll tell you what I didn't have planned for this Sunday afternoon and that was a Bang Chan hybrid AU one-shot. But the image of cuddling up with Chan in the middle of a snowstorm took me hostage and now here we are. I've never written a hybrid AU before, so this was very fun! If you read this, I hope this Christopher brings you the comfort you deserve today. 💕
P.S In case no one has told you today, you're so loved and so, so worthy of love. 🧜💜
The icy wind howls, whipping swirling flurries of snow past the windows of the little cabin. You stir, not opening your eyes, heavy with slumber as your other senses remind you of the homey trappings of your shelter. A fire crackles and pops, its warmth licking over your nose and cheeks. A soft, heavy blanket fashioned of rabbit pelts lays over your body, rustling quietly as you nuzzle into the man beneath you.
His chest rises and falls with the even breath of a deep sleep. Your cheek rests against his bare skin and the silky patch of thick, dark hair between his firm pectorals. It isn't really hair - not like yours. It's fur. Soft, dark tufts of it decorate his body everywhere hair would grow on a man; a patch on his chest, under his arms, at the dip of his Adonis belt. It smells like him. Like musk and pine and lavender. Manly and primal, floral and gentle. Christopher.
Hybrids were still treated like dirt in so many ways. They didn't require licenses to live without owners anymore, but still, they were pushed to the margins of the community by the intolerance of common practice. You yourself had been taught to fear them. Monsters, your grandfather had told you, who would turn on their own young in a moment of morbid instinct. Even so, you always found more pity in your heart than terror.
And then, one day, you met him.
You had been loading groceries into the bed of your grandparents' jalopy at the general store and dropped a bag of oats as you struggled to hoist it onto the tailgate. You hadn't even noticed he was beside you when he easily hefted the bag and the remaining two boxes of eggs onto the vehicle without a word. He shot you a little smile, but before you could thank him your eyes were arrested by a pair of sharp brown ears rising from his curly hair. He pulled on a cap and turned to go before you could collect your wits enough to speak.
You had thought of nothing save his warm brown eyes and sweet smiling lips in the weeks that followed, taking any chance you could to steal away to the general store in hopes of seeing him again.
But your paths never crossed. Not until the following summer.
You had packed in to the camping grounds by the lake with a few other girls from your graduating class for a weekend getaway from the menfolk - not that you had any - and you'd joined them rather reluctantly and at the persistence of your grandmother, who insisted a little socialization would do you good.
That first afternoon you quickly grew tired of the chatter. If the weekend was meant to be a reprieve from the men, you grumbled to yourself, then why were they the constant and sole topic of conversation? You gathered up your sketching supplies and walked down the trail a ways, finding that the more distance you put between yourself and the shrieks of laughter and gossip behind you, the better you felt. Soon, you couldn't hear them at all. You settled onto a rock at the edge of a small glen and took your pencil in hand.
Suddenly, some hours later, it dawned on you that your eyes were straining somewhat on the page, and you looked about, startled at the waning light reflecting the late hour. Gathering your things, you hurried back to down the path, only to realize with a sickness in your gut that you were well and truly lost, and that the daylight was nearly spent.
He had found you then, sniffling rather pathetically beside a tree. You'd been alarmed by the sudden sound of his voice, having not heard his furtive approaching steps, but when you raised your frightened eyes to his face the fear had quickly given way to wonder. You'd given up hope of seeing him again, and now here he was, once more in your hour of need.
It was too dark now to find the trail back to the campsite, so you helped divide the load of bracken he had tucked under his arm between you as he led the way back to his cabin, not far into the thick. As you walked you noticed his tail, gray and brown and full behind him. Had he hidden it, that day at the store, you wondered? Did he always when he was around people like you? You remembered how surprised you had been at the site of his pretty ears upon your first meeting and you felt ashamed. You tried to find every possible way to assure him, as you walked and talked, that he didn't frighten you. You hoped he understood.
Before long, you arrived at a little clearing with a log cabin at its heart. Smoke rose invitingly from the chimney, and you found it was as small and homey and warm within as it seemed from the cold darkness of the wood. The stranger gave you bread and stew and hot milk, and you ate with him and told him of yourself and he shared with you in return.
He was a wolf hybrid. The sole survivor of his pack, he had traveled hundreds of miles to settle into the mountains of your home. He made a living hunting, trapping, and gathering the wares of the wild to sell in town, as did a handful of other hybrids living in the mountains - a group of traders known collectively as The Strays. He told you that his name was Christopher, but that most simply called him The Wolf. When you repeated his given name softly and asked if you could call him by it he smiled that smile again, but broader and brighter and with his eyes pressed into little moons and crow's feet in their corners. His canines glinted in the light of the fire and one beautiful dimple pressed into his left cheek.
You were in love.
You asked him, a little shyly before parting the following day, if you could be friends. He smiled sadly and brushed rough fingers over your cheek before telling you that you were already his friend, but that you should keep yourself safe by staying away. People were suspicious of hybrids, and if he were seen with a human woman, it could be dangerous for you both.
At the edge of the campsite, when he turned to go, you grabbed his arm. You told him that every Saturday morning you helped wait tables at Maple's Diner, and that if he came, breakfast would be on the house. You wanted to thank him, you insisted. In truth, you just wanted to give him a chance to find you, should he wish to. Oh, you desperately hoped that he wished to.
And he did. He showed up a few weeks later, ears tucked under a hat and shoulders looking broad in a worn flannel shirt. You gave him coffee and bacon and a pile of pancakes and sat with him when your shift was through. It became a ritual, Saturday mornings at the diner. And then you started meeting for lunch. Then dinner. Then for long walks and trips to the movies. Then he started to take you out for drives in his truck - for picnics in the mountains, to watch the stars from the bed, to never leave the cab or each other's arms as the windows fogged with your labored breaths and mingled heat.
One night your grandparents were waiting up when you returned. Your grandfather was in a rage, your grandmother was all worry and woes. It was a sin, what you were doing, they said. In the eyes of what god, you demanded in return? Your grandmother clung to your arm, begging you to come to your senses - it was dangerous, and worse, you would be ruined for life. You told her that none of that meant anything to you. Only him, he was all that mattered. Only Christopher. To hell with everyone and everything else in that goddamned town that treated him with suspicion and shame - that could never begin to see how perfectly beautiful he was.
Your grandfather forbade you to see him.
You told him you were grown and he couldn't stop you.
He raised his hand, and your grandmother screamed.
When Christopher pulled up in his pickup you were in front of Maple's Diner. He gasped as he crouched to cradle you in his arms and gently brush his fingers over your broken lip and the green bruise on your cheek. He gathered you up, gathered your little bags, and took you home.
Home to the woods.
To the little warm cabin.
To his arms and his heart.
It's the third winter since you left it all behind - everything that tried to keep you from him.
Things are so different now, so simple, slow, steady and intimate in the life you share. You've started talking about pups. Maybe someday. Maybe soon.
You look up at his lovely, peaceful face, washed golden in the firelight, and smile, settling back down against his chest. As the wind howls your eyes slip shut, and you sleep again in the strong, gentle arms of a wolf.
-Fin-
#skz x reader#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz fanfic#skz fantasy au#hybrid#hybrid au#wolf chan#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#bang chan angst#bang chan x you#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x female reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids fan fic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids au#bang chan oneshot#skz oneshots#stray kids oneshot
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Flowers on Your Doorstep
Art cred: Panprika (y'all have no idea how long I searched for this pic, I was losing my mind)
Description: After you bail on lunch, Miguel finds himself seeking advice on how to deal with your cold shoulder.
You’re ignoring him, phone on do not disturb, dodging him on campus and you’re even skipping lab. Of course, the TA said you emailed saying you were sick, but Miguel doesn’t believe it.
He knows you, knows you always push through, that you never skip lab because you’re too afraid you’ll miss something important, and your grades will slip. You’re not sick, this is something else. Something that you won’t tell him, and Brett won’t tell him either.
So, he turns to his next best option, Mina. She’s laying on Gabriel’s bed like she owns it, phone in hand, the room smelling faintly of weed. First, she glares at him, and then clicks her tongue disappointedly, sighing, “you just had to go running around with Ava again, huh?”
“Bro really?” Gabriel groans from his desk, spinning around in his chair to face Miguel. “She’s the fucking worst.”
“She just needed someone to talk to, she doesn’t trust anyone else, I was just being nice.” He says, massaging his temples as Mina continues to click her tongue, the tsk, tsk, tsk sound starting to give him a headache.
“You know what she does to you.” Mina chides, pushing herself up into a sitting position.
He does, he knows it all too well. Ava brings out the worst in him, she corrupted him, as you might say. But she’s still a person he once cared about, even if she stomped on his heart and threw it in a gutter, all the while laughing with her new boyfriend.
“She’s changed, she and Kyle broke up.” He shouldn’t be defending her, he knows that, but there’s still a part of him that wants to prove it wasn’t a mistake to love her.
“Oh again? What is this the twelfth time? I’m sure it’ll last this time around.” She deadpans, raising a perfectly arched brow at him.
Gabriel snickers, then gives Miguel a half-hearted apologetic look.
“What does this have to do with y/n, Mina?” He says tersely, running a hand through his hair, frustration burning, licking at his heels. He just wants to leave, to find you and beg you to tell him what he did wrong.
“She likes you, dumbass, and then she found out you’ve been hanging around Ava, while you’ve been hanging with her. What do you think that looks to her?” Mina asks, her expression making it clear to him that the answer should be obvious, and that she thinks he’s stupid.
He’s going to be sick.
“I—I would never—it’s not like that, I don’t want Ava back, I was just trying to be nice, I didn’t think…”
“Yeah, I can tell.” Mina scoffs, going back to her phone and tapping it a few times.
His stomach churns as he thinks back to earlier this week, the way Ava dragged him away, distracted him with stories from back when they were dating, good ones, funny ones. It was only meant to be a short conversation, you were supposed to get lunch, like always, he wanted to get lunch with you, like always.
He can picture it now, you hiding behind the Sig Epp letters watching him, watching the way Ava still didn’t understand boundaries and put her hands all over him. He could hear the tears coating your voice when he called you, it was like a knife through his chest and he just wanted to go to you. Wanted to wipe away your tears and do something, anything he could, to make it better.
“Look Miguelito just apologize, maybe bring some flowers and wear that sad puppy dog look you’ve got perfected.” Gabriel chimes in, stretching his arms above his head, before standing and approaching him, squeezing his shoulder empathetically. “You can never go wrong with flowers.”
Gabriel was wrong, very, very wrong.
You take the flowers Miguel offers you as he stands on your doorstep, patient, anxious, stomach still twisted in knots.
“Did Ava not want these or…?” You ask, inspecting the flowers with a detached look.
“No—no, I mean, they’re for you, only for you.”
“Oh, okay so she got her own, cool, cool.” You say, placing the flowers on the entryway table next to your door and crossing your arms over your chest.
“I didn’t get Ava flowers.”
“Okay.” You say, foot tapping against the wood laminate of your doorway.
“She’s my ex-girlfriend, we dated for a while, she cheated on me.” He admits in a rush.
Your frigid expression melts into something softer. “I—I didn’t know that.”
He rubs his neck sheepishly. “I don’t like to talk about it. It was a really rough time in my life. But her and I are over, I don’t have any lingering feelings for her.”
“Brett told me. He’s seen you and her together, both before we got close, and after…” You wrap your arms around yourself, your eyes downcast. “If you still have feelings for her, I get it, she’s gorgeous, and you guys have a lot of history.”
“I don’t have feelings for her, we broke up the summer before my freshman year here. She just transferred in at the beginning of this year, and she’s been having problems with her boyfriend. I guess she hasn’t really made any friends, so she’s been leaning on me.”
“And you’re too nice to say no to her.” Your voice is soft, tainted with sadness.
“I told her to find someone else, after you canceled lunch, she wanted to keep talking, keep flirting with me because she knew her ex would see us. I said no.”
You look up at him, half in hope, half in disbelief, it’s written all over your face. “Yeah?”
He nods.
You bite your lip then release it slowly, picking the flowers back up. “These are really pretty.”
He gathers his courage. “Just like you.”
A smile flits across your face. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression with Ava, I shouldn’t have left you stranded while I talked with her, we had prior plans, and I should have stuck to them.”
“It’s okay.” You tell him, holding the flowers to your chest.
He wants to ask you if what Mina said was true, if you feel the same way he does, but it feels wrong somehow. Like it would cheapen the moment.
“Do you want to come in and see our costumes for the dance?” You ask, taking a step back and allowing him entry.
Directly connected parts: Jealousy, Jealousy (previous part) and Semiformal Kisses and Cat Fights (takes place after this current part)
TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey, @scoobysnakz, @ihateuguys, @idkbros-world @smartyren, @deputy-videogamer, @blackrose8425
#meg's writing#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#nerd miguel#nerd!miguel#nerd!miguel o'hara#college!reader#college!miguel#college au
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64 with vampire!Mingi PLEASE!! also congrats on your milestone you seriously deserve it babe <<33333
"Mark Me As Yours"
Prompt : 64 "I didn't believe in soulmates until I met you."
【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : You forgot to tell your vampire lover your heat started. Now, he gets to experience that you taste like in the midst of it.
『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 : 1.03k
-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Suggestive, Fluff, Supernatural.
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Vampire!Mingi x CatHybrid!Reader (Female)
[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Blood drinking. Mating. Marking. Mentions about nests and heat. Description of reader becoming "softer" and "plump." Scenting. Scent changing. Mention of Yunho and health issues. Whimper. Mentions scent glands. Heavy Omegaverse Themes. Begging. Sappy shit. Pet names like Darling and Kitty. Swearing.
Note: ♥︎♥︎ Thank you, baby. I hope you enjoy this fic.
Masterlist | Navigation
It was a normal evening in the manor, Most of its residents have soon left for the night or gone to sleep. But among the normal night sleepers, like witches, wolves or fae, was a lone vampire, Mingi. He chose to stay in for the night, unlike the other vampires of the manor. He wanted a quiet evening with his love, a hybrid… You.
You were currently in the shower, getting ready for the movie night he had planned. You were super excited, never really getting time alone with Mingi, given he was either out working on the vampiric counsel or sleeping during the day. You didn’t mind, though, sneaking in while he was trying to prepare a nest of pillows and blankets so you would be comfortable. You tiptoed until you were behind his bent form, but before you could pounce, he turned around, catching you in his arms. He fell back onto the bed, landing with a huff on top of him.
“Well hello to you too, Darling.” He stares up at you in awe as your big fluffy ears twitch at his deep voice. Your long, luscious tale swings with joy, following a big smile painting your features. You suddenly attack his face with kisses, drawing them all the way down to his neck. He hummed in delight at the feeling, but then, as he slowly slipped into a comfortable spot, a smell invaded his nose.
It was like a salty twang with a hint of orange and poppy seeds, mixing into your natural sent. His hands grip your waist harshly, twisting you both around until you were nestled under his larger frame. You look at him with surprise, ears raised and tail no longer wagging. His nose connects with your neck suddenly smelling the most intoxicating thing. Your blood has gotten sweeter to the point he could smell it through your skin. Your body was plumper, more squishy, and hot to the touch. “Are you?”
“Maybe…” You whimpered, making Mingi let out a groan in desperation. He couldn’t believe you were having a heat right now, and he’s been away neglecting you. When he first met you, he made sure to find out everything about hybrids, specifically cat breeds. He’s never been with you through your heats as you usually take blockers or pills. But this heat felt different, and Yunho, a wolf, said it might be a good idea to see it out instead of holding it off like the past in fear of your health.
“Fuck kitty.” You purred at the nickname, “You are going to kill me.” He moved, pulling you up along the bed so your head could sit on a pillow. He starts to push blankets and pillows around you forming a functional nest of sorts. He knew you would most likely fix and make a new nest later, but for now, the comfort of the soft fabric that was riddled with Mingi’s scent satisfied you for the moment. His warm lips connect with your scent glands, and it brings out a low purr from your throat. The fluff on your tail frizzes up from his touch, and your large ears bow in contentment. But what caught you off guard was when his long, sharp fangs gliding against your hot flesh, drawing a loud gasp from your lips.
“M-Mingi, P-please…” You knew what you wanted, but your dizzy brain made it hard to speak, your tongue feeling like it had been twisted into a knot.
“What is it, my precious baby? What do you want?” His velvet voice melted your tense muscle and ached your core. You rubbed your hips against him in a pathetic attempt to relieve the pain.
“Want…” That’s right, what do you want? Your heart felt nothing but love for your Undead lover, and your pussy craved to be filled by him. But most importantly, you wanted to be his. Be marked you as his. He may not be a hybrid and share the same mating techniques as your species, but He had ways to provide a mark. His mark. If you so asked. But would he want to do it, be bound to you forever?
“Breed… Mate, Bite…” Words spilled out of your mouth before you could control it. Tears swell at the corners of your eyes. You needed him so badly, and Mingi knew it. His heart ached just as much, if not more, than yours. He never thought in all his years on this planet that he would find someone as special as you. Someone he could call his. Call his…..
“You know, I didn’t believe in soulmates until I met you…” He whispered against the shell of your ear. Tears freely pour down your cheeks as your fingers scrunch into his baggy shirt. “I love you so much, Darling.”
“I love you too, Min. Please,” you begged again, and this time, Mingi knew what you wanted. What you needed. Going back to your scent gland, he kissed your hot neck before his tongue flattened against the flesh. He licked a strip before his mouth latched, suckling slightly. Moans were flying from your mouth, cries and pleas following. And before you would begin to beg once again, you felt his fangs pierce the skin, sinking deep into your jugular. Blood pooled quickly into his mouth, and Mingi groaned at the taste. Never in his life has he ever tasted such a sweet yet irony flavour. He was addicted, and if he didn’t have self-control, he would have surely drunk you dry.
But alas, he did, in fact, love you. So he pulled away, eyeing the way some trickles of blood dripped from the wound onto the sage green velvet sheets below. There was a smile on your face, following a small hiccup. Words couldn’t explain how happy you were. Mingi, your undead vampiric lover, sealed a mate mark on your neck. And it may not be a full mark like other hybrids would perform, but it was your mark. A staple to say he was your and you, his.
- ♥︎
#ateez#ateez smut#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#kpop smut#kpop#ateez reaction#ateez reactions#ateez fanfic#ateez fluff#ateez scenario#ateez x female reader#ateez x reader#ateez x reader smut#atz reactions#atz smut#atz fluff#atz drabbles#atz hard hours#atz imagines#atz scenarios#atz x reader#atzsource#atz mingi#ja3hwa#ja3hwa posts#mingi imagines#ateez mingi#mingi smut#song mingi
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Happy 200!
So I’m a sucker for when a character confesses accidentally or the good ol’ talking in their sleep clique. So picture this, Bay Donnie confessing in his sleep with some cute mumblings just as reader pops in. Except it quickly takes a turn, starting as just short sentences-their name-a little confession; but then it gets saucy and goes into #2/ or even #11? Maybe it leads to more? Go with whatever ending feels right.
You can chose whatever reader type you feel best writing this with, and if this happens with a developed relationship or before Donnie + the reader are together
Congrats on the 200!
"Oh, my love, the things you do to me."
Pairing: Bayverse! Donnie x Fem! Reader
Warnings: Implied wet dreams, CNC, Cunnilingus, Sorta gross description, Donnie sorta acts obsessed, Dumbification
Word count: 1k+
✰Masterlist
You never thought you would be best friends with a giant mutant turtle. Yet here you were, up late, at a sleepover with Donatello. You didn't know why you couldn't sleep. Maybe it was the sewer smell or the high levels of candy and soda you just consumed. Or maybe it was the fact that Donnie's plastron was pressed up against your back.
Yeah... It was probably that.
You would be lying to yourself if you didn't say you had a crush on him. Which is exactly what you were doing right now, denying your feelings as you listen to Donnie's quiet breathing. But then you hear your name sighed under his breath.
Was he dreaming about you?
You didn't want to disturb him so you continue to stare off into the darkness of his room. You hear him mumble something under his breath, but you couldn't make out the words. It wasn't until he wrapped his arms around you, fully spooning, that your heart rate increased.
"I love you..."
It came out as an exasperated sigh, almost as if he were out of breath. Your eyes widen as you whisper back "What...?" You don't get a response though, now fully realizing he was still asleep. You shift uncomfortably, not knowing how to get yourself out of this situation. As you try to move away from him, he pulls you right back into his plastron, now nuzzling his face in your neck. "Dee..."
You whisper, not exactly expecting to wake him up. Donnie groans in your ear, mumbling another 'I love you'. You, again, try to move away from him, only to be met with the same thing as before. This time, however, a gentle kiss is pressed against your neck. You gasp softly, feeling another, and then another. "You're so adorable, you know that?"
"How long have you been awake?" You ask, turning to look at him. He looked different without his grandma glasses on, more serious in a way. "Probably a minute or two."
"Can't sleep?" He asks, to which you nod your head. His three-fingered hand reaches up to touch your cheek. Donnie's scaly skin brushes over yours, looking longingly into your eyes.
"Can I help?"
You barely said the word 'yes' before his lips were on yours, pulling you closer towards him. After what felt like hours, you pulled away for air. Donnie leaves soft kisses from your jaw to the base of your neck "Oh, my love, the things you do to me."
Your cheeks heat up as you catch your breath, he nips at your skin, grinding his hips into your ass. "Please, be my girlfriend."
You were speechless, words getting caught in your throat. Donnie didn't really need an answer to that question yet, as you had already agreed to him helping you. He gently rubs your hips, slipping down your pajama bottoms. "Just tell me if you want to stop."
This was all too surreal, you couldn't believe this was happening to you. You bury your face in your pillow as he rubs your pussy through your underwear. Your voice was muffled, but Donnie could still make out what you were saying "I'll... I'll be your girlfriend, Dee."
With that, he moves you onto your stomach, pushing your ass into the air. He slides down your underwear, giving your ass a light smack. Donnie smiles, his tongue licking up your pussy, making you bury your face into the pillow. You continue to moan and whine as he messily eats you out. It was quite obvious he hadn't done this before, and yet it still felt incredible. He hungrily sucks on your clit, saliva mixed with slick coated his chin as he brought you closer to an orgasm. You repeatedly moan his name into the pillow, grabbing onto the sheets that covered his mattress.
"You taste so fucking sweet."
You squeeze your thighs together, another smack is earned to your ass, Donnie spreading your thighs apart. Donatello's tongue, which was larger than average, carefully moves in between your folds, dipping inside your entrance. You were unable to stop your legs from shaking as you held yourself up on your knees for so long. Though, Donnie's hands helped steady you as his tongue curls up into your walls. You moan and whine into your pillow, repeatedly begging to cum. Your voice was muffled but loud through the pillow, so he could still hear you begging.
He continues to push his tongue inside you, speeding up a little. His thumb brushes over your puffy clit, and though he couldn't see your eyes roll back, he quite enjoyed the way your body shuttered out of pleasure. Your hips react against you, jerking back and pressing your cunt closer to his face. Donnie's tongue finds the spongy spot inside you. The one that has your walls fluttering around his appendage.
"Please, don't stop... I'm close."
You were too afraid of his family finding out to let go of the pillow even a bit. You desperately clung onto the material, if you were stronger, you would be tearing it apart. You felt your orgasm approaching quickly, your hips jerking more and more. Donnie's hands traced your ass, up to your waist and back down to your hips as he tongue fucks you like it's nothing.
'I fucking love you.'
The words circle his brain, once, twice, a dozen times. They hammer against his skull, wanting to slip past his lips, but his mouth was already full. Full of the sweet, delicious taste of your wetness. Maybe if he were thinking clearly these thoughts wouldn't feel like they were taking up his life. But, in the dead of night, all Donatello could think about was you. Your sweet, muffled moans, your walls clenching around his tongue. The way your body shook as you came all over his tongue. The way you gnawed at your pillow, tears pricking your eyes; he loved all of it. All of it made his heart swell. He grabbed your hips and turned you onto your back.
"I'm not stopping until you've passed out."
Star's notes -> This took me a week to write... but it was worth it. (Please send more requests, I love writing them!)
(Thank you, sweet anon, for requesting!) (Prompt list)
Taglist -> @raphaelsqueen @mamaemoemu @sleebykei @thejudiciousneurotic | Join the taglist
#☆strawb3rrystar follower special#tmnt bayverse#tmnt bayverse x reader#bayverse donnie#bayverse donnie x reader#bayverse donatello#bayverse donatello x reader#tmnt#tmnt x reader
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BakuSquad Boys: Showering with Them (Pt. 1)
BakuSquad x (Gender-neutral) reader
Characters: Sero & Denki
Warnings: None really; mentions of shaving, nudity, hints at spicier things.
Description: What I imagine showering with these two would be like, from how often they shower to skincare routines and fun little quirks they have. Kirishima and Bakugo coming soon in part 2 :)
—————
He loves to bathe with you, no matter how it’s done. Bath vs. shower, quick or not, he doesn’t care. Sero’s convinced it’s one of the most intimate things in the world. Especially when he shaves your legs for you.
He gets it, sometimes the feeling of hair is overwhelming, but you’re too tired to be able to shave yourself, and honestly, you can’t help but fall in love with the way he plants kisses up your calves as he goes.
Trust me when I tell you ladies, gents and everyone in between, this man is the KING of shaving for you. Body part is irrelevant, he’s got it. Just put your leg up on his, babe, and you’re good to go. And if waxing is more your style, you’re in luck! Your charming boyfriend comes with a handsome smile and an unlimited supply of tape- a handy substitute for wax strips.
Hanta spent hours practicing on patches of his own hair so as to perfect his technique before he dared risk damaging your beautiful skin.
You’re usually both nightly shower-ers, unless Hanta’s weekly night shift interferes, which he hates more than anything. Showering alone in those boxy agency stalls could go suck ass as far as he was concerned. He lives for quiet nights with you. This is where the routine usually begins.
An intimate dinner, low music playing in the background to fill the silence, or burning conversation that just couldn’t wait to be heard. But normally this is saved for the bathroom, this is where you both really begin to wind down for the night.
Celebrating your vulnerability by talking about your days, and gently massaging the stress out of aching muscles; kissing away annoyances to replace them with a new, more comfortable warmth.
The tape-hero’s arms wrap around you from behind as you do your skincare in the mirror. He places gentle kisses to your neck as he patiently waits his turn. There’s never a burden behind these touches, nothing that says you have to go further. Nevertheless, you appreciate the love he puts into each caress of your skin, despite already knowing the outcome of the night will be an early bed time to combat Hanta’s outrageous patrol schedule, and you happily curled up in your hero’s chest. Once Sero does get his turn in front of the mirror, his routine is quite simple.
Having already brushed his teeth to keep that signature smile shining, he uses a basic facial cleanser - one you got him onto. After that, there’s another mystery product that he can never pronounce, but the serum has helped his childhood acne scars to no end. Slap on a bit of moisturiser and he’s done. Simple as that.
He never had a skincare routine before he met you, so these steps feel like quite a milestone achievement to him. Needless to say, he ALWAYS sticks to his routine, and he’s quick to pull you up and help you with yours if you happen to be slacking a little that day.
Never in the history of the world, has a man gone more feral for someone’s body than Denki does for yours. You like to joke that he was actually born with some sort of bloodhound quirk crossed with his electricity. Only your loving boyfriend doesn’t smell blood, oh no. He has a wicked sixth sense about when you are actually, or are planning to get naked; and he refuses to be absent for that particular event.
He normally showers every second day, most of the time that happens to be at the agency, out of convenience. It serves as a good visual reminder to him. He’s not a barbarian though, if he needs a shower, he’ll take one. Besides, it’s not like his routine is exactly consistent. If you’re naked too…well, who could resist?
However, on the odd occasion when you are showering and he doesn’t feel like joining you, he’s not just going to leave the bathroom. No, no, that little sneak will be watching the entire time.
The two of you can still carry on with a conversation for the most part, but the second you stretch your arms up to wash your hair, he’s a goner.
Droolin’ fool type goner.
Kaminari considers it his duty to moisturise your body. He especially admires how smooth your skin is after you’ve exfoliated, but he thinks you’re smokin’ either way. He’s just honoured that you even let him touch you like that. It’s arguably his favourite part of the day, feeling your velvety skin gliding beneath his palms. And it’s not like you dont get anything out of the experience either ;)
Hear me out, Denki LOVES doing skincare with you. Any excuse he has to get close to you is a win in his mind.
To the blond, the feeling of your hands on his face are equally as soothing as the water itself. Your apartment doesn’t have any of those fancy water filters on the faucets, thus, Denki finds showers particularly calming after a long day. Tap water is a good conductor of electricity, and is often useful in helping your sparking boyfriend come back to himself after he’s overused his quirk, or just had a bit of a rough mission.
Sometimes, he can quite literally feel his quirk humming through his skin as it recharges itself, occasionally leaving tiny Lichtenberg figures down his arms.
If you ever do a facemask on yourself without telling your boyfriend, he actually considers it a personal offence. His motto when it comes to skincare is, whatever goes on your skin, goes on his.
Cleansers, serums, balms, creams, masks, the whole nine yards. Denki has never complained once because he truly loves every minute of it. To him, it feels like you guys are secretly matching in an odd way. As he inhales the lingering scent of the new moisturiser you had wanted to try the night before, he’s reminded of all the laughs you’ve had in your tiny apartment ensuite.
Like when he tried to kiss you through the ill-fitting lip sections of a sheet mask, before you had pulled away, lightly swatting his shoulder and warning him about ingesting the serum. The subtle feeling of being close to you provides memories he carries with him everywhere throughout his day, like a badge of honour.
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