#I think I spent over an hour looking for these.
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“baby keep talking, but nobody’s listening!”
anime: jujutsu kaisen
characters: gojo satoru, choso, fushiguro toji
summary: they find you on a date with someone they've never seen before, but they don't need to look for long to see how bored you were. deciding for you that it would be the first and only date you ever went on with that man, they come to your rescue.
warnings: afab! reader, she/her pronouns used, reader is on a date with a man, said date sucks ass (trying to regulate what y/n eats, snarky comments, egotistical, rude to hospitality workers), shoko/itadori/shiu help set you up on a date but they suck at it
↣ gojo satoru
"satoru, you have to get out," you huff at him, crossed arms over your chest. he sat on your cough, flicking through tv channels. "my date is coming here in ten minutes!"
"you mean the stranger that shoko met at the mall and said would 'totally be your type'?" he says, looking over his shoulder to you. you raise a brow. "c'mon, blow him off. we need to finish 'the last of us'!"
"don't you dare watch it while i'm gone, satoru, or god so help me—" your phone rings, interrupting your threat. you answer when you see the number of your date. "hello? oh, yes, this is y/n."
you begin to walk to grab your keys and your bag, satoru following after you when you suddenly stop.
"oh, uh... you want to meet there?" you say, tilting your head, "no, that's fine, i'll leave now. see you—..."
"he's not coming to pick you up?" satoru questions, watching as you take out your car keys.
"he's actually already there. and he's ordered for me." you say with a bit of doubt in your voice. satoru can hear it. "it's fine, i should go now. don't you dare watch that show, i will kill you. see you, satoru."
the whole time you're gone, he can’t do anything. he’s sitting in silence for an hour, not even looking at his phone. he felt angry at himself.
so he followed you, obviously.
he looked up the restaurant you had mentioned to him before and saw the pictures posted online. it looked like such a nice first date place. and that boiled even more jealousy in him. of course he had to follow you.
and luckily he did; you looked miserable.
he takes out his phone as soon as possible.
“you know how many calories are in that meal?” your date said after the waiter left your table, “way better for you than what you wanted.”
you had just told him your favourite dish in the menu. and he told you he ordered you just a salad. while he got two meals because he was ‘bulking’.
when shoko showed you his instagram, you had to admit that he was cute. he was fit too, and you did your fair share of exercise. he had a nice smile and he also posted photos of his dog. but that couldn’t shield you from what was right in front of you.
you found out he was a model for a magazine you’ve never heard of, and while that was impressive, it was his whole personality. you asked about his pet, and he somehow turned it back to his career and how he did a fireman themed calendar last year. you’d think he was surely more than that, but it didn’t seem it. you had barely talked about yourself. it didn’t look like he was interested anyway.
“hm, what did i do today?” he thought out. you cringed at the way he tapped his chin, pretending to think. “i hit the gym at 5am, walked my pet for an hour and a half, took some photos for my resume since i’ve got a new deal coming up, and spent time from then to now just at the studio.”
you were waiting for him to ask about your day. he doesn’t.
“and you know, i’m actually the most valued model at my studio. they always call me for shoots, i’m always first on their list. you’d think i could catch a break every so often,” he chuckles out, rubbing up and down his arms. you hold back from rolling your eyes as you sip your water. “but it’s hard being so… handsome.”
you stare at him and fight the urge to roll your eyes once again.
"what about you?" the moment you've waited for comes a little too late. you're not even interested in speaking about yourself.
"well, i did some grocery shopping this morning—"
"what did you buy?"
"me and my friends are having a movie tomorrow, so i just bought some snacks for us," you explained for some reason, "chocolates, popcorn, chips—"
"junk food?" he scoffs back, "no, no, you don't need all that. you oughta' bring it back and get some fruit. way better for you."
you down the rest of your alcoholic drink you had ordered (the one thing he did let you choose) and look away.
that is when you feel a hand rest on your upper back.
"excuse me, ma'am," you look up and widen your eyes when you see satoru standing before you. he's wearing a white button-up, black slacks, dress shoes and a black waist apron. you freeze up. "the gentleman over there asked me to give you this, already paid for."
you look over to where he was pointing. nanami sits in his own suit as he waves his hand at you, pained smile. satoru places a mojito in front of you. your date stands up.
"the hell? doesn't he see that i'm here?" he scoffs as he stands up. his chair screeches against the floor, which collects everyone's attention in the restaurant. "he's insulting me! what a prick! i'm gonna fuck him up!"
"hey!" you stand up as he begins trudging over. satoru places a hand on your shoulder to stop you, and you see nanami roll his eyes and stand up as well, ready for the fight. "what are you two doing here? and why are you dressed like that?"
"i'm the ultimate undercover agent, of course," he replies. he begins pulling off his apron and dropping it on your seat. he hooks his arm with yours and smiles. "let's get outta' here."
"but my date—"
"he's fine," you watch as nanami dodges one of his punches with and irritated face. "nanami will take care of him."
you let him whisk you out of the restaurant while everyone is watching the two men fight (not really). satoru walks you to his car and starts the engine. you see nanami's car behind his.
"did you seriously bring him along to get me out of that date?" you chuckle as you stare at him. satoru purses his lips and looks away. "thank you, satoru. you didn't have to."
"you're welcome, gorgeous," he responds to you, "i could tell from the phone call that he wasn't all that. wonder what barrel they fished him out of."
you let out a small sigh and look out the window. you were embarrassed; this was the first date you've ever been set up on, and it went horribly. you knew you should've left earlier, not wait until satoru came along. he was your saviour for today, you had to admit.
but what was even worse, you seemingly let than man talk to you like that. you could chalk it up to just being friendly and giving him the best benefit of the doubt, but deep down you know you would never have let that slide with people you know. hell, yaga could speak to you that way and you would still give him an earful.
"don't be sad, y/n, now we can go to yours and watch our show," satoru attempts to cheer you up. he flashes you a smile. "i promise, i won't eat all your food."
"you're a liar, satoru." you laugh back.
"seriously though, that guy was a wreck. why did he keep talking about calories and stuff?" he mumbles out with a disapproving shake of his head, "i had to shut him up somehow. i should've just spilt the drink over him."
"oh god, what about the food? i didn't pay for my meal."
"you mean the salad you didn't want? i cancelled it for ya'."
"why aren't you this nice all the time? you usually bully me." you claim in a joking matter. satoru pouts at you. "i appreciate this, a lot. i guess guys who only ever think about themselves aren't my type."
there's a quietness in the car as he turns on his indicator. you enjoy the little noise coming from the radio, a song that you've heard quite a lot.
"you know, yuuji, nobara and megumi?" he clears his throat.
"yeah?" you respond to him in confusion.
"yeah," he hums with a nod of his head, "i think 'bout them a lot. they're good kids."
"they are," you agree with him. it takes you a few seconds before you look at him again. "satoru, that's not what i meant."
"so am i your type?"
"oh my god."
"answer the question, y/n."
↣ choso
"yuuji?"
"yeah?"
"do you know who this is?" choso shoves his phone into his brother's face.
"uh, that's y/n." yuuji responds in a bit of confusion. the two of them were sitting in a new restaurant with ramen on their tables. choso’s sat nearly untouched for the past ten minutes as he flicked through some pictures you sent to a groupchat with him in it. yuuji was halfway through chewing noodles when choso asked him about the photo you sent a few minutes ago. “why? she looks good.”
“no doubt,” choso mutters in response as he zooms in on the other figure in the picture you took of your reflections in the window, “i mean him.”
“oh, that’s the guy who me, nobara and y/n saw last week at the movies,” yuuji responds, “he asked y/n for her number, so i think they’re out together right now.”
he looks at yuuji in disbelief as the pink-haired boy starts slurping on the soup. it takes him a few seconds to properly react.
“are you serious?” choso says a little loudly. people turn to stare at the pair. “you let him get her number?”
“what? he seemed cool and y/n didn’t seem to mind that i gave it to him.” yuuji holds his hands up in defense as choso angrily glares at the photos on his phone screen. “you said you weren’t gonna’ make a move on her anyway!”
“that doesn’t—” a groan leaves his lips as choso holds his head. he lets in a deep breath. “okay, it’s fine.”
“i’m sorry, choso.”
“no, it’s my fault, i did say i wasn’t going to ask her out,” he tells yuuji, who slowly goes back to eating, “i… i missed out, i guess.”
yuuji frowns as the guy in front of him sadly eats his food.
“you know…” he begins with a small smile. choso looks up to him. “they’re just out for lunch nearby. y/n told me where they were going. we could—”
“yuuji! hurry up!” choso has grabbed his jacket and is rushing to the door before yuuji can reply, “we might miss them!”
yuuji scurries out of restaurant after he gobbles down his ramen. it isn’t too far of a drive, actually. it took about 15 minutes to get there and choso had easily spotted your car in front of a cozy cafe. he parks next to it and almost ducks when be notices you in the chair facing the window, facing the two of them, with your date sitting in the booth — your favourite spot. choso always let you sit in the booth side.
choso clutched onto the steering wheel with gritted teeth. yuuji looked towards you to get a better view.
“huh… she looks annoyed.” yuuji points out.
“this guy…” choso grunts.
inside the cafe, you had taken a few photos of your food and your drink. you’re glad yuuji suggested this place, you loved the service and the food here. the servers were always so nice and helpful and quick, and the food was amazing too.
it was obvious to you that your date didn’t think the same.
“god, everything in here is so…” he begins as he examines the design on his waffles. he cringes a little. “girly.”
“it’s just a bunny design,” you point out as you sadly stir the cat-shaped foam into your hot drink, “it’s cute.”
“it’s embarrassing,” he reiterates. you purse your lips and sip your drink. the delicious taste was enough to make you forget his sour tone. until he speaks up again. “can’t believe your friend told us to go here.”
“i love this cafe,” you state, “everyone here is so nice.”
“the service is slow and they gave me the blueberry waffles instead of the normal ones like i said,” he complains. you set your drink down and hold back from rolling your eyes. “i don’t care how busy you are, you always check five times that the order is correct.”
you don’t even reply to him after that, only trying to enjoy your meal that you paid for. he wasn't helping at all. you thought that because he was so charismatic when talking to yuuji that he was probably a good catch, but you couldn't have been more wrong. maybe he was just putting up a front in order to score you. you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover anymore.
"hey. over here," he begins to snap his fingers and nodding at a server with four full plates of food. the guy looks over frantically, obviously under pressure. "i wanna' ask you something."
"ah, right, give me a second, sir—" the guy was trying to distribute the food with the customers who he was serving.
"i told you, slow service," your date scowls towards you. could you be any more embarrassed right now? the server finishes off his task before coming over to you two. before he can even ask, your date is holding up a nearly empty cup of coffee. "this is the most bitter coffee i have ever had in my whole entire life."
"oh, well, you ordered an americano, sir," the poor server explains, "they tend to be bitter."
"what? no, no, no," the guy in the booth starts shaking his head, "i ordered a flat white."
"you..." the server begins. he was the one who had taken your order too.
"you ordered the americano, actually," you pointed out. the guy raised a brow at you, unamused. "it's okay, you can just order a flat white—"
"god, i did not order an americano." he claims.
but you distinctly remember him saying 'americano' for his drink. and the server repeated the order back to him before it was confirmed annoyedly. you stare down at his nearly empty cup.
"y'know what? just put the flat white on the tab, i will pay for it." you sigh out as you rub your neck.
your date looks more pissed off as the server leaves.
"he was wrong, you don't have to pay for another drink." he mutters out.
"it's nothing, don't worry." you retort and stare back down at your food. you didn't have an appetite anymore and a few minutes pass in silence.
the flat white comes out after such a long time of waiting. your date drinks it quietly, but you notice that he makes a face to show he doesn't like it. you quickly excuse yourself to go and pay at the counter for your food (he insisted on splitting the bill since he didn't like the place) so that you don't have to hear him bicker about it.
"hey," you turn behind you to see choso standing there in a baggy hoodie, a bit nervous, "fancy seeing you here..."
your eyes flicker to outside, where you see yuuji waving at you from choso's car. a smile lands on your face.
"nice to see you, choso," you mutter back as you fish out your wallet. the cashier rings up your total and you press your card to the reader. "how was your lunch with yuuji?"
"good. we cut it short to save you," he bluntly says. you blink as he glares at your date. "i don't like the guy you're with."
"me neither," you sigh out, "i think this is the last time i'll see him. but i gotta' tough it out for the rest of the date."
"you could just leave now." choso adds. he looks at you with furrowed brows.
"ah... i'm not that confident—"
"a takeaway box and takeaway cup, please," choso asks the cashier. she had been sitting there and silently agreeing with you that the guy you were sitting with was a total jerk. "thank you."
he places them in your hands and pushes you gently towards the table.
"who the hell is this guy?" your date scoffs and glares at choso, who does the same back.
"look, i'm not really having a good time on this date," you say as you play with the takeaway boxes. choso hastily takes them from you and fills it with your food in an organised matter. "i think this is the farthest we go. please enjoy the rest of your food, though."
"you serious? ditching me for some jackass?" he accusingly points at choso who wears a shit-eating grin on his face. "this is bullshit!"
"calm down, god..." you groan and rub your temple, "i just don't like you, you're so rude."
"me? you're the one who dragged me to this shithole!"
"shut your mouth before i drop you right now," choso scowls as he pushes the guy back into the booth seat. everyone was watching now, quietly thanking choso for showing up and dealing with him. "grow up, man. you act like a child."
choso grabs your hand and tugs you out of the cafe. you both thank the service with your takeaway in hand. yuuji gets out of the car with a wide smile once you two get closer.
"so, how did it go?" he asks with wide eyes.
you throw your keys at his chest.
"you're driving my car back to my apartment as punishment for setting me up with that asshole," you say with a small frown. you all knew you didn't really blame him, though. "never giving my number out to anyone ever again."
yuuji apologises thoroughly before getting into your car and driving off in the wrong direction. choso opens your door and gives you the food. once he's inside the car himself, he starts it up and begins driving.
you rest a hand over choso's on the middle console.
"thanks, choso," you sigh out, "i should've done that earlier."
"it's fine, y/n, i just wished i came sooner." he replies.
you stare at the side of his face, how irritated he looked just thinking about your date. a smile settles onto your lips and you brush your thumb over his knuckles. he falters and looks back to you for a second before muttering a 'what'.
"i'll take you out for dinner as a thank you," you state, which makes his ears go red, "you're a sweetheart, choso."
"i... uh, yeah, i'll go out with you," he mutters, "thanks..."
the laugh you let out is worth ruining thousands of your dates.
↣ fushiguro toji
"have you ever been to france?" the conceited finance guy in front of you asks, fixing his tie. he wears this smirk on his face that proves that he just knows how rich he was. he wasn't coy at all. you force a smile and shake your head slowly, trying to enjoy your meal at least. "really? that's a shame. i've been plenty of times before, and i've gotta say, the best part is..."
you begin to zone out, sighing to yourself as you move your pasta around on your plate haphazardly. he had chosen such a nice italian restaurant to absolutely ruin your perception of this guy after the first ten minutes of talking to him. you look to your watch, showing it had been only two hours since your date started.
cursing out shiu in your head, you cautiously look out the window to the sky. it wasn't that dark yet, but it felt like your night had been taken away. your mind wanders to yesterday to your conversation with shiu.
shoe
you're getting picked up at 5 tomorrow
y/n
am or pm?
shoe
???
shoe
don't show him how stupid you are, he's a rich guy. maybe he'll bring you to a yacht
y/n
why would i want to be on a yacht for our first date? is he nice?
shoe
he's rich, y/n. that's all that matters.
sometimes, you wonder how he managed to meet all these people. but then you remember that assholes attract assholes. they move together in flocks.
you stare at your red wine and tap your finger on your cheek.
"what do you think about it?" he questions, getting your attention again. you look up to see his smug face. did he really want to know?
"oh, me?" you asks, sitting up straight. you had no idea what he had been saying for the past 15 minutes.
"well, who else would i be talking to, silly?" he says in this mocking tone.
'yourself, it's who you've been talking to all night', you internally say. you had wasted such a nice outfit too. it was such a shame.
"mmm, well, it's a bit—" you begin, only to get interrupted.
"it's insane, isn't it? how could you lose so much money in only a year?" he barks out a laugh, as obnoxious as he was. the table shakes as he bangs his fist against it, waiters and guests looking towards you two. "it's absolutely preposterous! i would never make such a decision like that."
you chew out an awkward laugh before turning to your wine, sipping it.
unknowingly to you, toji was waiting in the car outside the building, getting a good view of you and your new date. he cursed shiu in a huff; not only did he set you up with someone, but the guy was a total prick. he couldn't have done a worse job, and he was broke. he pulled his seat back, watching him with pointed eyes. that guy's mouth hadn't stopped moving ever since you entered the restaurant.
and you? you looked gorgeous, your dress hugged you just right, so much so that he was jealous. toji knows it should've been him to go and take you somewhere like this.
he snaps when the guy calls the waiter over, complaining about his half-eaten food and causing a scene. you looked so uncomfortable. standing up, you excused yourself to the bathroom. and toji is quick to get out of the car.
"he's such an asshole." toji claims as you exit the ladies room. you freeze, pressing out the creases of your dress before walking closer to him at the end of the hall.
"when did you get here?" you ask, hand on your hip, "and how do you know he's an asshole?"
"been watchin' the whole time from the car," he tells you, watching as you widen your eyes and tilt your head at him, "what? couldn't help myself. shiu said you were on a date with some rich guy, 'n i had to see it."
"yeah, well, remind me to kill shiu. he's got the worst taste in men." you sigh out, crossing your arms as you lean against the wall with him. he peers at you. "you know he asked to try every single wine they had before we ordered? and he complained about the merlot not being darker. not only that, he saw my plate and said 'are you gonna' eat all of that?'. the dickhead!"
"that shit looked good." he commented, shaking his head, "who wouldn't finish that food."
"right? ugh, i hate him so much. and he hasn't even asked me about myself other than my name. he explained to me his 'entrepreneurship' and dropshipping. wanted to clock him in the face." you complained more, only fueling toji's own hate for the man.
he lifts himself off the wall, grabbing your arm and dragging you with him. "go 'n get your things. we're gettin' out of here."
"what? what am i supposed to say to him?" you mumble, stumbling behind him, "where are we going?"
"don't say anything to him. if ya' feel bad, pay for your own food." he explains to you, hand moving to rest on your back, "i'm not lettin' you waste that pretty little dress on someone like that guy."
you stare at the back of his head before falling into step with him, stopping at the table with your date. he does a double take once he sees toji, slowly standing up.
"who's he?" he asks, scanning him up and down.
"none of your business." toji retorts, looking down at him.
you begin to grab your purse when he holds out his hand to you. "where the hell are you going?" your date asks you.
"here. for my food." you say, handing him a fifty. the note flutters onto the table in front of him, which he stares at in awe. tugging on your jacket, you stare back at him with furrowed brows. "good luck in life."
with that, you turn around and begin to walk to the exit. behind you, toji sticks his tongue out at the other man and follows after. his hand finds your back once more and you wait to cross the road, sighing out to him, "thank you, toji. saved me."
"no problem." he replies, opening the door for you.
"how did you get in my car?" you ask, sitting in the driver's seat.
"don't ask." he tosses you the keys, making you wonder even more. he gets into the other side, looking back at you. “we’ll hit up that restaurant downtown. the one you always talk about wanting to go to.”
“but you said you don’t like their cuisine.” you claim, starting the car.
“it’s the only place i know that’s fancy.” he explains, looking out the window.
“sweetheart, i wouldn’t say that’s fancy—”
“do you want to go out or not?”
you laugh, reaching out a hand and holding his. he gives a small smile before looking back at you. “thank you, toji.” you say, stopping at a red light. you glance at him, sincere look in your eyes. “it means a lot that you care.”
“jus’ saving you from being stupid as fuck.” he tells you, making you roll your eyes and snatch your hand back, “could ya’ not tell he was a tool when he didn’t knock at your door? motherfucker waited in his car.”
“my god, you’ve been watching since then? toji!” you jokingly reprimand, looking at him for a split second, "i should've known from the start though... he was on his phone the whole time, in the car ride. on bluetooth speaker too."
"i woulda' jumped out the car." he retorts, shaking his head, "we should jump shiu."
"we really should." you laugh, smiling at him, "maybe for our next date."
toji can't help but roll his eyes. he knows deep down that you were hoping shiu was going to set you up with him instead. he can see it on your face, a smile that is pushing through on your lips. you're secretly happy that it was toji who 'ruined' your 'date'.
"i say that because i know you can't pay for dinner."
"did you think i was paying for this one?"
you scoff back, elbowing him, "you leech."
"you know you love me." he says it teasingly, but he knows better than anyone that you actually do.
#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo#gojo x reader#choso#choso x reader#kamo choso#kamo choso x reader#fushiguro toji#fushiguro toji x reader#toji#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk#jjk x reader
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Cat got your tongue?
Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 1.3k | Warnings: oral f receiving
Summary: Azriel can’t help himself when he sees how good you look in your dress for starfall, causing the two of you to take a detour on the way to the celebration
Author’s note: everyone say thank you @writingcroissant for this idea. Also this is unedited, we die like men in these parts
“Where are we going?”
Your laugh bounces off the empty hallways, Azriel’s grip on your wrist firm as he leads you through the house, checking doorknobs as he goes. The sounds of the crowd outside were muffled, Starfall starting in about half an hour.
“Az-” your words are cut off as he finally gets a door open, pulling you inside before pushing you up against the door quickly. He takes your chin in between his fingers, bringing his lips to yours.
“Az-” you giggle between kisses, his lips moving down to your neck. “Az, I don’t want to miss the stars.”
“You won’t,” he mumbles into your neck, his hands tracing down your waist, pulling you into him.
You weave your fingers into his hair, pulling his head up to look into his eyes.
“I spent too long on my hair to have you mess it up before Starfall even starts.” He waggles his eyebrows, his fingers digging into your sides. His breath was warm as it fanned your face, but his words sent shivers down your spine.
“I won’t mess up your hair.”
He leans in, kissing just beneath your ear, trailing down your throat, to the open column of your chest. His name falls from your lips in a breathy moan, your body frozen in place at his touch.
Hisbhands move down to your thighs, gripping lightly. His head is in your chest, kissing your breasts softly as he continues trailing kisses down your sternum towards your stomach. He hooks his fingers into your panties, causing you to gasp as he slides them down slowly. Once they reach your ankles, he taps each of your ankles to get you to step out of them before he tucks them into his pocket.
You peer down at him, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up your ankle, your shin, your thigh, following the path of the slit in your dress.
All while keeping direct eye contact.
Fuck him and his beautiful hazel eyes. Fuck the way he’s looking at you as if you could convince him of anything and he’d accept it. You can’t remember the why of how you’re here in Rhys’s home, in a random closet. All you can think of is his mouth, his greedy tongue, and how desperate you are for it.
When he reached the midway point on your thigh, his kisses became sloppier, opting to just run his tongue across your skin instead.
You moan as he nips your inner thigh with his teeth, a playful smirk disappearing beneath your skirt, only his eyes were visible now.
You couldn’t help but thrust into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. Not even his shadows were touching you, for cauldron’s sake. They were all pooled over his shoulder, content to watch their master perform.
His hands slid beneath your skirts, fingers squeezing your ass before he moved up to your hips. His mouth was inches from you, his warm breath sending goosebumps across your body.
“Cauldron, Az. You look so pretty like this.”
He nipped your inner thigh with his teeth, a soft huff from his lips driving you insane.
Your words weren’t wrong - he looked incredible between your legs. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked up at you beneath his mile-long lashes. Your hands reached down, threading through his dark curls, your thumb rubbing the tan skin of his forehead.
One of his hands slid your leg over a shoulder, and you’re careful to mind your heel from touching his wing.
“Az, there’s a party out there. You love Starfall.”
He pressed his lips to your core and hummed, the vibrations coursing through your body. Your back arched off the door, tilting your head back at just how good his mouth felt just sitting there.
“I want to start my favorite holiday just right.”
His words were immediately followed by his tongue sliding through your folds, your hips immediately thrusting for more. You moaned his name as his tongue flicked slowly through you, and you tug his hair lightly.
“Starfall’s not even your favorite holiday,” you say between pants.
“Silly me,” he replies, gripping one of your legs over his shoulder. You swing your other leg over his shoulder, his body the only thing keeping you up against the door. His hands grip your ass, his forearms holding your weight.
His tongue is slow circling your clit, taking his time tasting you. You dig your feet into his back as you whine, desperate for him to speed up.
“Az, please.”
His eyes flash back up to you, his pupils blown wide as he strokes his tongue even slower across your clit. You squirm in his arms, spurring him to speed up. You gasp, a death grip on his hair as you practically get whiplash from the change in his speed. You use his back to help push your heels off, and you can’t find it in you to care about where they end up.
He works your body perfectly, years of mateship leading him to know exactly how to work your body. You look down as he pulls you closer and closer to your orgasm, watching his eyes stay shut in concentration, his moans doing something to you.
You want to grab his wings, want to hold the talons so you can grind against his face properly. Your hands itch to touch his wings, however you know if you did the two of you would never make it to watch the stars fall from the sky.
Maybe the two of you could skip the charade and just get naked one year and spend the holiday getting messy.
This year the two of you had a foolproof plan - get drunk during the shower of stars, leave when you two couldn’t handle it anymore, and lock yourselves in your cabin for the rest of the weekend.
Something about holidays got Azriel riled up - maybe it was finally having someone to spend them with, or maybe it was just your mate being the horny male he was.
You weren’t complaining as his fingers tapped your ass, asking you to look his way. You looked down to find his eyes already on yours, his eyes full of amusement as his tongue works that perfect spot on your clit. You keep your eyes on his as your fingers grip his hair, riding his face through your orgasm.
His tongue works you through your high until he pulls his face away from you, his chin glistening with your arousal. He holds you against the door as your breathing evens out before gently moving your legs from his shoulders, setting your feet on the ground softly.
He moves the skirts of your dress, straightening them so they cover you completely, fixing the thigh slit carefully. He smiles at you, making no move to clean off his face.
“You’re something else, shadowsinger.”
He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for an embrace. You want to laugh in his arms at how quickly he shifted from horny to sweet, but it’s a line Azriel’s always toed with you.
You place your hands on his chest, using him for balance as you put your shoes back on. He helps hold you as you step into them.
You smile up at him as you reach your hand out, aiming for his pocket, but his hand intercepts yours, bringing it up to his lips so he can kiss the back of it.
“Az.”
“Yes love?”
His eyes peer at you over your hand, reminiscent of how he was looking at you from under your skirts, just a bit less smug.
“Can I have my underwear back?”
“No.”
You sigh, reaching again to his pocket. “Az, the slit in my thigh is quite high. A soft breeze will give everyone a different kind of show.”
He places his hand on your lower back, leading you out of the room.
“I will be hypervigilant. It’s an hour. Then we’ll head out, grabbing several bottles on the way. A celebration all our own.”
You giggle back down the hallway, following Az back to the noise and partygoers, his hand warm in yours.
Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @ninthcircleofprythian
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Thanks for reading 🥰
#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader#azriel#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#acotar writing#azriel smut#azriel x reader smut#azriel x you smut#azriel x y/n smut
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Part 2
Part 1
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie stands and follows Steve to the door as he’s pulling on his shoes. He wants to stop him, pull the shoe out of his hand and drag Steve back to the couch, but he doesn’t have any right. He’s not entirely sure Steve won’t push him away if he tries to touch him right now, anyways.
“You think I’m straight and I was convinced you were into me,” Steve leans against the door frame to pull his other shoe on. He mutters under his breath, “I should’ve never listened to Robin an-”
“Robin was in on this?” He interrupts that thought. It throws Eddie. They’re such a tight knit group, he doesn’t know how they were so far off track with him.
“We spent hours going through every stupid interaction we had. Thought we had it all figured out.” He huffs and walks back over to the coffee table to pick up his wallet and keys. “I guess we’re both idiots.”
“No, Steve,” he tries to reach out and grab Steve’s arm, but he moves too quickly and Eddie’s left grasping air, “you’re not.”
“It’s fine, I’m used to it, anyways.” Steve scrambles to pull his sweater back on, the cold just starting to seep into the night air outside.
“Can you just slow down for a second?” Eddie stops trying to catch Steve and plants himself in front of the door. “What do you mean, you’re used to it?”
“Are you going to trap me here?”
“Answer the question.”
“This part, Eddie,” he sighs and gestures between them like that means anything to Eddie. “Everyone I’ve ever confessed to or made a move on has had the same reaction.” He looks off to the side, unable to look Eddie in the eye. “I’m pretty sure I’m the problem. Good ole Steve Harrington, too stupid to notice no one is interested in him.”
“Steve, you’re not stupid.”
“Feels like it most of the time.” He pinches his nose again, still not looking at Eddie, more like through him, gaze pinned to somewhere in the middle of Eddie’s chest. “Can you please move? We can pretend like this never happened and I promise I won’t make any weird moves on you ever again. I’m still friends with Nancy and Robin after everything, I can do it with you, too.”
Eddie skips over the whole Robin part of that in his head because he doesn’t have the brain power to analyze anything beyond Steve’s feelings for him. He never saw this coming. No one, boy or girl or anything in between, has ever made a move on Eddie before. He’s the local freak. There’s no way he could have predicted the town’s golden boy hero would make the moves on him.
He takes in how disheveled Steve’s become in the last few minutes. How hastily he’s thrown on his sweater. The mess of Steve’s hair from the hand that’s run through it several times since he got up from the couch. Barely laced up shoes so he could get out the door faster. He’s normally so put together and this, the sight of him so frazzled, frightens Eddie.
They were fast friends after everything happened with Vecna, leaning on each other for support. Becoming inseparable with King Steve wasn’t something Eddie ever imagined, but it was so easy. Neither of them were what each other had built up in their heads from the rumor mill around Hawkins. Eddie’s never had a guy friend as close as Steve. Sure, he had Hellfire and Corroded Coffin, but Eddie’s always been a bit of a loner.
It was impossible to feel alone with Steve as a friend. He had a way of knowing when you needed support, always just there when Eddie felt alone or needed a physical presence when the weight of the upside down was dragging him down. There wasn’t a day in the past six months that Eddie didn’t see Steve, even if it was only in passing or a quick little jaunt down to Family Video, he’s a constant presence in Eddie’s life.
To lose that? Would be like losing a part of himself. Like losing a limb. Losing his home.
And he’s scared. He doesn’t want to let Steve walk out that door, the weight of losing him forever lingering in the air. But he can’t trap him here. That wouldn’t be fair to Steve.
He moves out of the way, taking a step towards Steve, but he sidesteps Eddie and reaches for the door.
“Steve-”
“Don’t worry about me, Eddie,” he doesn’t turn around, but hesitates halfway out the door. “I’ll be fine.”
With the soft click of the door closing, he’s gone.
And that should be the end of it. Closed book. Eddie doesn’t like Steve and Steve needs to move on. There’s not much Eddie can do about that.
But it haunts him.
If you didn’t know Steve, you wouldn’t realize that anything was wrong. He’s acting normal, smile on his face when he jokes with Robin, complaining about the kids being terrors, going to his job.
But there’s something in the set of his shoulders, in the way his smile droops when he thinks no one’s paying attention to him, in the way Robin protectively hovers around him when Eddie is nearby. It’s clearly a facade he’s putting on to get by.
And Eddie aches. There’s a pit in his stomach that opened up that day and it hasn’t closed. Steve avoids his touch and the chasm grows larger, dragging Eddie further into the darkness. Casual hangouts halted. No more divulging of nightmares or fears late at night. A piece of Eddie is with Steve and he’s bereft of comfort. Unsettled.
He lies awake replaying that kiss over and over in his head. Thinking about what Steve said after. There’s no comfort in the way he handled the situation. It feels like he miscalculated, like pushing Steve away was the wrong move and now his life will never be the same again.
Maybe it won’t. Maybe there’s no way for them to move forward and for him to not break Steve’s heart every day. Steve said he was an idiot, but Eddie’s positive he’s got it all backwards. Eddie’s the idiot.
And he can’t stop thinking about kissing Steve.
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#katie writes#again I promise this will have a happy ending#feel free to yell at me#angst#the comfort is COMING I swear
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LOVE LETTERS ୨୧
♡: an eternity of silent, mutual yearning and friendship that flourishes into something new when feelings are finally confessed.
notes: charles leclerc/reader, friends to lovers, swearing, humour, fluff, confessions, subtlest suggestive content right at the end but for reader interpretation <3
type: smau & writing ・ fc: lila moss
a/n: my favourite trope ever mwah 🤍🤍 this feels a little messy and stuff but I had a lot of fun writing it and hope you feel the love all over it I have, ily
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yourusername: hello from the birthday girl here <3 thank you so much for all of the kind messages, wishes & gifts. sending lots of love
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friendusername: happy bday to our favourite girl ever 🍰🫶🏼
yourusername: 🤍🤍🤍
user1: happy birthday to our favourite paddock princessss
charlesleclerc: did you like the cake I bought you then, or?
yourusername: I loved it until you threw half of it in my face
charlesleclerc: it tasted nicer that way
franciscagomes: bday girl !!
yourusername: i love youu
franciscagomes: i love you more 🤍
pierregasly: what about me?
franciscagomes: today is about y/n. shush.
I. Your Birthday.
After hours spent with café au lait and too much maple syrup on pancakes in the morning with gift receiving and wishes, a quiet luncheon with those closest to your heart, enjoying the beauty of the shores and rosé champagne, evening eventually settles in a beautiful colour against the heavens of Monaco.
You have never been one for the dramatics or high attention of crowds, settling on an intimate celebratory affair amongst close friends and family: pretty dresses and glasses of Lavender French '75 or those strawberry daiquiris that Ésme is in love with; a sweet, favourite song heard in the background.
Charles arrives fashionably late, the collar of his white-linen shirt loosened and soft, dark-brunet hair slightly tousled as he comes near, the sight of a smile on his face you've always loved, dimples revealed.
There is a certain relief that comes with being graced by his presence, like you had been silently longing and waiting for his greeting before anybody else's, though you disguise it from any chance of teasing.
"(Y/N)," Your name rolls off his tongue like caramel, accentuated as he shifts to kiss both your cheeks in friendly affection before he chuckles at your expression, "Happy birthday." Mon ange.
"Thank you," You breathe, a laugh falling past your mouth at the sight of him in manifestation, inclining your head when you look at him through your lashes, "I was beginning to think you forgot."
"Forget? Me?" The Monegasque exclaims as though wounded, placing his hand to his chest though the smile about his sun-kissed visage never dissipates, stealing a nearby glass of champagne, "Never. I had some work to finish."
There is an edge of teasing beneath your looks, a dance of butterflies in your stomach when he touches the small of your back fleetingly as he shifts past with that signature wink of his, all friendly and humorous in years of friendship, and yet your heart stutters.
You almost say something else, confessions and thoughts that want to erupt from your chest like love letters you have never sent – certain it is merely the liquor fogging your judgement – but he's wandered away with a final promise before a syllable can come forth.
"Let me get the birthday girl a drink, oui?"
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yourusername: july with my favourite people <3
mentioned charlesleclerc, friendusername, franciscagomes and two others
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user1: literal angels
user2: second pic is definitely y/n and charles
friendusername: you still owe me another ice cream 🍨
yourusername: sorry bby, i’ll be at your front door with a double vanilla ice cream soon <3
franciscagomes: 🤍🤍
II. At the beach.
Warm light kisses your skin like heavenly delight, a forgotten copy of Paris' Vogue beside where you are currently bathing with a finished strawberry lemonade, long lashes fluttering when you open your eyes to gaze at the skies above in the heat of July, a mosaic of white and cerulean about the Côte d'Azur.
Most of the others have momentarily departed for the nearby café for new sweet treats, though you are consciously aware of a half-dozing Charles Leclerc nearby against the slight flush down the bridge of his nose and eyelashes that ghost about his cheekbones where he is lying.
Pure bliss; perfect heaven.
"Charles?"
It takes him a second, the mention of his name rousing him to blink out of a hazy hint of a dream with the tilt of his chin towards the direction of your voice that calls to him like an angel's symphony, squinting against the haze of light before a lazy, boyish smile reveals his pearlescent teeth, "Mm?"
Shifting upright, consciously trying not to stare at him for too long though you have come to simply welcome and fall used to the sight of his naked chest, all smooth ridges and lean muscle, you absently adjust the ribbons of your pretty bikini and reach for sun cream.
"Do you think you could help me put some on my back, please?" You ask politely, offering him the item whilst shifting on your knees and gathering the edges of your hair over your shoulder that have fallen loose.
He does not respond initially, not until he's sat upright and shifted closer with a kind edge of a smile that dances across his face, "Oui."
Charles does not hesitate or take advantage of the circumstances, applying the fine lotion against the curve of your shoulders with gentle ministrations and lower down, fingertips feather-light, careful not to linger too long.
The act feels oddly intimate as you gaze towards the serene shores, like his touch is meant for the most secret parts of you, an unconscious shiver and the subtle arching of your vertebrae when he traces a particular area. Whether he notices or not, there is no indication given, instead continuing in a method that seems entirely platonic but leaves an ache in your stomach.
"Merci," You tell him once the deed is most finished and he draws away, shifting just enough to offer a look of him from the corner of your eye in a gratuitous smile.
You wonder if how his gaze lingers is the same way yours does, like a painting worth admiring or a flower in emergence, heart thrumming quicker under your sternum before the moment is broken when he clears his throat.
"Of course."
III. A dinner.
Caffè Milano, a quaint but fanciful and warm establishment tucked in the quiet luxuries of Monaco's principality with its dancing chandeliers, oak-varnished furniture and beloved menu.
A semblance of familiarity, pleasantry and polished glasses clinking against the rhythm of conversation amongst friends in the warm afternoon: a lingering aroma of roses from the centrepiece décor neatly arranged and fine cuisine.
"– Non, I am not lying," Pierre is recounting a recent, humorous anecdote of experience, thumb idly tracing the edge of his wine glass whilst you and the others listen on, your cheeks beginning to hurt from how much you have laughed in the recent half-an hour, idly toying with the necklace resting at the hollow of your throat in common fashion.
"You are." Francisca frowns, albeit fondly.
Your concentration is removed from their talk when there is a subtle caress against the ankle bone, a touch beneath the furniture and a fleeting glance from your peripheral sight at the Monégasque beside you, all handsome smiles and that addictive song of laughter whilst a stray hair falls about his eyebrow, though he does not seem to show any degree of deliberation or notice that his shoe idly touches you there.
You have the urge to hold him, caress him, to press a thousand, butterfly kisses along his jaw and say something you should not. Instead, you continue to listen and nurse the last of your Château-Chalon.
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f1gossip: y/n at the grand prix this weekend <3 our paddock princess is back
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user1: she looks divineee
user2: charles and y/n friends to lovers when?
user3: leave them alone, they’re just friends and have been since childhood
IV. A balcony.
Charles had forgotten his keys somewhere and, until his dear brother could come and return them, you had offered the warmth of your welcomed apartment: all minimalist but homely in décor against a palette of cream, white and the like all complemented by paintings and furniture.
One hour had melted into two by the late afternoon with dusk's slow kiss, hints of lilac and grey in the edge of the skies, your cats curled contently on the plush chaise lounge and resting after endless affections from the Monégasque who seemed to be in love with them.
"Can I join you?"
The voice – honest and clear, albeit a fraction amused – is recognisable as you are drawn out of reverie on the balcony of rocaille motifs, gazing into quiet streets below and the nearby public gardens flourishing with flora, gnawing at your inner cheek as you look to the man where he leans against the threshold, a look in his eye that comes with a subtle indulgence after he stole your favourite bottle of rosé in the kitchenette.
"Of course, yes." Always.
He stands beside you, a few inches apart with his elbow resting against the intricate balustrade when he follows your dreamy stare for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. There is a comfort between the two of you, something you know must come from years of familiarity:
An seemingly endless, innocent youth that manifested in its complications as you aged and neared adolescence, like an evening primrose that flowers and sometimes falls apart, but always returns, even changing with senescence. With age.
You can feel his gaze, almost like an internal, silent imploration for your own, the edges of your fingers and nails polished in a rose quartz-esque varnish that glitters prettily in the evening, and his lips are parted just enough as if wanting to say something before they curve a little higher on the edges, his words hushed.
"Have you ever thought about love?"
Your eyebrows raise a fraction, though it is not so unexpected of a question and one that has been on the edge of your tongue since forever, even with the doubtful inkling that he has merely enjoyed too much wine.
"Sometimes," All of the time. You murmur, a soft, breathless chuckle following as you shrug and tilt your head upwards, gazing above like some wished answer or instruction from the angels or whoever listens, "Why do you ask?"
"Because," His response is delayed, though his answer is sincere and thoughtful like he has been thinking over his words since a time he can't remember until his fingertips touch your elbow fleetingly, "I can't stop thinking about it."
There is a moment, a single fragment, in which you meet his eyes, his touch is known and everything seems to pause like a finished painting, a still image in a history book: his hand, his body and his eyes – the colour of autumn, earth, hints of something else so unique to him.
"Charles, what are you saying?" You laugh softly, looking away momentarily and toying with the knitted wool of your soft cardigan with the kind of feigned indifference that comes with disguising truth, "I didn't think you were a romantic, who has caught your eye?"
For a moment, you wish he would say someone's name, a blessed girl that you have never heard of, so that you can deny your own feelings and settle on the painful reality that you are merely friends.
Instead, his gaze flickers, almost nervously, and a palm cradles the curve of your cheek and jaw with the hesitance of a man of conflicting considerations even when he tries to smile a little. "Please, forgive me."
There is not an instance given to allow any insistence or inquiry as Charles presses a kiss upon your mouth: it is not rushed and there is a desperation there that is not greedy, tasting the remnants of your lipstick and rosé, slow and methodical – longer when you indulge and welcome the feeling.
He does not draw away completely when the feeling ends, his forehead lightly pressed to yours and his touch a little firmer where his fingers curl into your hair, swallowing slowly as his eyes close for a moment until he dares meet your stare once more.
"(Y/N)?"
You smile.
"Je t'aime." There is something in his face you have never seen before, something raw and open like an unfurling rose revealing itself, and you know that your heart is his and his alone.
Another kiss with your prompting, fingertips tracing the soft cotton of his shirt near the shoulder until you drape arms about his shoulders, breathing him in with hints of raspberry, amber and cinnamon, "I love you."
There is poetry in his eyes like those unsent love letters shoved under your pillow, and he delves in, holding you close and intimate until you're most certain, mutually, of the silent yearning you have felt for one another for years.
"C'mere," He mumbles, an arm drawing around the back of your thighs as he picks you up and holds you securely, and you cannot help but laugh in pure, unadulterated glee at his touch and affections, the bottle of rosé abandoned as the night settles in and you are whisked away.
He loves you.
He loves you.
♡ ✧ 。*・.
a/n: please don't forget to interact, like, etc. <3
#୨୧ my works#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 smau#f1 x female reader#f1 fluff#f1 x you#f1 fic#formula 1 smau#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1 imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fluff
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Here's Hoping Things Look Better On the Other Side
Chapter 1: The Cowboy
Rating: E (minors please do not interact)
Words: 6k
Tags: Ghost x f!reader/OC, fingering, unprotected piv sex, oral (m and f receiving), deep throating, soft sex, face riding, dangerous driving practices, one night stands, first meeting, dom!Ghost, flirting
Summary: You decide to spend you last night of freedom before saddling yourself with farm work, saddling up on something else. You know what they say: Save a horse, ride a cowboy.
a/n: happy 1 year anniversary to this blog, as a mark of this occasion I'm doing what I kept talking about but never had the courage for and posting the "official" Cowboy Ghost story, or at least the first chapter. If some of this looks familiar, it's because a lot of my initial posts in the au were straight from this draft
Thank you @ethereal-night-fairy for giving this a once over, you're the best ❤️
There’s plenty about small towns that you miss living in the big city. The lack of bars is not one of those things. At least your friends don’t seem to be complaining. Anything to take the edge off the hours you’d spent in the car. One of the girls laughs pushing at another’s arm, the table is littered with empty shot glasses and half drunk beers. You glance back at the room over your shoulder, eyes darting to find a tray you could pile some of this on to make the bartender’s life easier. It’s dimly lit, as all dives are, and may as well have a sign hung up boasting about how flammable it is with all the wood in here. Wood tables and chairs, wood bar, wood floor, wood walls, you wouldn’t be surprised if the mirror over the back of the bar was wood too.
Still, you’re happy to be home. You miss small town living, miss the farm. You’ve been an accountant long enough, lost the calluses on your hands and you’re ready to dive back in. You’ll have to report to your daddy’s ranch earlier than the sun once morning rears its ugly head. You may as well have some fun, enjoy your last night of freedom before breaking your back breaking horses. And lucky you it’s the start of planting season, plenty of fresh blood in the water.
It’s good timing really. You know everyone in town too well, and the last thing you need is for word to get back to your daddy that you slept with the McKennan boy or worse. No, seasonal help is the best choice for a one night stand. No one you know that knows you(or your father). You glance around the bar, plenty of faces you don’t recognize. No one interesting though. No one that seems like they’d give you anything good. Mackayla already has a hat fixed square on her head, a cowboy coo-ing at her like she’s the luckiest girl in the bar.
Your eyes hit the man hunched against the bar. An unfamiliar face, a dark black hat, and denim stretched tight over his thick thighs. He’s got a good build, broad shoulders, thick fingers that dwarf the long neck in his hand, biceps you could sink your teeth into… You can’t see his face, but there’s an air about him that screams “leave me alone”. That plus the way he keeps to himself says he doesn’t know anyone or care to. Perfect. You toss the last of your bourbon back and toss a few bucks on the table.
“I’m gonna snag a cowboy,” You tell your friends, “Don’t wait up.”
You earn a few thumbs ups, a whistle and a “get it” that makes you laugh, before turning to snag the spot next to your man in black at the bar. You lean against the bar to catch his eye, standing close as you push your chest out, and tip your head. They’re brown, you think, warm like liquor and kept steadfastly forward. Must be having a staring contest with his own reflection. There’s a mask too. A black swath of fabric with a jaw bone painted onto it covering half his face. That explains why you couldn’t get a good look at him across the bar.
“So-” You start, only to be cut off.
Your cowboy holds up a twenty neatly folded between his fingers without even looking at you, "How much is it gonna cost to get you to leave me alone?" He asks, the bass rumble of his voice making you all the more sure of your decision. You glance from the skeletal mask to the black Stetson tipped low over his eyes.
"The hat."
"Not for sale."
“Not even just for tonight?” You ask, feeling buzzed and bold as you lean against the bar. There’s the slightest turn of his head as he looks at you. The warm brown of his eye as it peaks from under the shadow of his brim hits you better than any shot could. His gaze drags over you, and you let it, feeling his eyes settle on the way you push your tits out, then trace down over your hip. Your skin prickles with warmth, your stomach fluttering excitedly. He drags those lovely brown eyes back to meet yours and hums, looking back at the mirror.
“How about a drink,” He says, motioning for the bartender.
“How about two,” You grin, his mask shifts, his eyes crinkling a little at the edges, “What are you drinking?”
“Piss,” He says, pushing his mask up enough to get a swallow of his beer. He’s funny in a dry sort of way, you’d laugh if you weren’t so entranced by his lips against the bottle. You rip your eyes off him when he pulls the mask back into place. You gotta get this man a decent drink. You press up onto your toes to lean across the bar and talk to the bartender.
“Are the Sisters still making hooch?” You ask, the tender nods and grabs two shot glasses for you. You settle back on your feet, feeling the pleasant weight of your companion’s gaze dragging over you. You wait as the glasses are filled with 2oz of the only thing you missed on the coast. Well, maybe not the only thing. A glass of crystal moonshine is set in front of each of you. Your cowboy’s fingers pinch around the sides of the shot, his hand dwarfing the glass as his other hand tugs at his mask. You both tap your shots to the bar before throwing them back. You shake your head at the burn as he lets out a cough.
“Oh that is dead,” He says, lord his voice is so thick when it’s pleased. Rumbling nicely in his throat, you’re desperate to see what it tastes like.
“So,” You draw his eyes back to your face with just one word, “What’s a Manchester boy doing in this shithole?”
He lets out a breath through his teeth, flicking the brim of his hat back to get a better look at you. His eyes make you warm all over in a way that alcohol never could. “Manchester, huh-” He motions for another shot, “You even know where that is, Princess?”
Oh the way he says it, so deep and condescending, but inquisitive, makes a shiver run down your spine. You’d do anything to hear him call you that again. Including answering his question with the minimum amount of sass.
“North of Birmingham, west of Sheffield. Do you need my footie team too before you to take me home?” You smile, tapping your refilled shot against his before downing it. His fingers hesitate on his glass as he looks at you, eyes following your tongue as you lick the last drop of moonshine off your lips.
He reaches up and takes off his hat, settling it on your head. It’s big and warm, and sits just a little too low on you, but you don’t care, it’s his. His claim on you. He takes his shot clean, pulling his mask back up as he tosses far too much cash on the bar and grabs your hand.
You barely get to his truck before you’re pressed against it, his hands gripping your face as he presses his lips to yours. Too eager to remember he’s gotta pull his mask off first apparently. It’s warm and cotton-y. Not that you mind. You laugh, feeling bubbly from the moonshine, as he growls and rips his mask off before kissing you again.
And oh, he’s good with his mouth. You can tell by the slide of his lips, the way he holds your face just the way he wants to. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips and you open eagerly for him, letting him taste the cheap sugary booze you’d been sipping before you saw him. He licks into your mouth, skimming your teeth before twisting his tongue against yours in a way that makes you shiver. His mouth is warm and wet, and he groans when you suck on his tongue. You want to hear that sound for the rest of your life. He tips your head back and back, his hat held to your head by the closed cab door as he crowds you against his truck forcing you to take everything he gives you.
Your chest is warm and you can feel your blood pumping want through to your fingertips as you twist them into his shirt. You want to be drunk on him, want to feel your head spin as your thoughts turn to cotton. You think this is the best decision you’ve ever made. Especially when his hands leave your face to grab your hips, his leg wedged between yours. He drags your hips to grind against his thigh, all hard muscle and oh you can feel him. The hard line of his cock just at the apex of your movements. It makes all your heat drop to pool between your legs. Mm, he was absolutely a good decision.
“What am I screaming for you?” You murmur, between kisses, desperate to know your cowboy’s name.
“Simon,” He tells you, ducking to mouth at your neck. “Simon,” he says it again, bites it into your skin, like he’s reminding himself.
“Simon,” you sigh, enjoying the way saying his name makes his hold on you tighten.
He works your hips against his thigh, his lips sucking at your neck before his teeth dig into the blooming bruises. There’s something animal and desperate in his movements, something that speaks to a man who hasn’t had a woman in a long time. Good. You want all that pent up stress, all the need, that he can muster. You make a soft noise at the twitch of your hips, the tingle of need in your own body starting to soak your panties. It’s only when you start to feel that same wetness soaking the denim scraping your thighs that Simon pulls away.
“You drive stick?” He asks, the warmth of his iris consumed by dark black. You tip your head, pull him back to brush his lips against yours. You want him to keep kissing you, his lips just on the right side of chapped and his tongue exploratory. You hold onto his face until he grabs your wrists and pulls you off. “Manual, Princess. Want you in my bed before I fuck ya.”
“Yeah, yeah,” You murmur, eyes fixed on his mouth, “I can drive stick.”
Simon pulls you away from where you’ve been plastered against the truck cab and opens the door. You squeak when he picks you up and sets you on the seat. Your eyes dart to the wet patch on his jeans, then to check out his ass when he leans down to grab his mask off the gravel. Damn.
You pull your door closed as Simon pulls himself into the driver's side of the cab, turning the ignition and switching gears. You always liked the click of the gear shift, but now the engine thrums in your blood, a heady promise of what’s to come. Simon grabs your hand from where it’s settled on your thigh to hold it under his on the gear shift. He shifts up a gear, then drops his hand to your thigh. His hand is big and warm, a bear’s paw gripping your leg, digging his fingers into your skin. You’re glad Amanda convinced you to wear a skirt.
“You shift when I tell you, alrigh’?” Simon asks, one hand sliding under the edge of your skirt as the other turns the wheel to leave the bar's parking lot. You nod quickly, your fingers tight on the stick shift as his skate across the edge of your panties. One thick finger tip drags along your sopping slit, feeling you through your underwear. He gives you the next gear and you pull the shift with a shaky hand, rushing to accommodate him, to show how well you follow directions(to not get the both of you killed if the engine stalls). His fingers don’t move, giving you space as you shift in your seat.
It’s different when you lean back against the seat again. His fingers press against you properly, teasing you through your panties with his thumb against your clit. The feeling of cotton against the sensitive bud, wet and cool from the night air, makes you whine, and push your hips towards his touch. Simon chuckles from the driver’s seat and you feel a wave of heat rush over you.
“Spread your legs love,” He orders, you’re quick to comply, going a step further to shuck your panties so he can touch you properly. After all, you’ve never been one to disregard an order that directly benefits you. Simon’s fingers touch you, spread your sticky slick folds with a pleased noise. He’s got calluses, you can feel the rough edges of them as he drags his fingers over you, and you follow the motion with a slight raise of your hips. “Eager thing, aren’t you?” Simon rumbles, you glance at him, at his lap. As if he’s one to talk.
His cock must be aching from pressing against his zipper like that. He says something you don’t hear, too busy trying to measure his bulge with your eyes. He smacks his fingers against your slit and you jerk your attention back to him. Shift down. Shift down, you can do that. You know how to do that.
Your clit tingles when his fingers find it, still aching from the smack and desperate for attention. Simon rolls it between his fingers, pinching it enough to be felt before rubbing at it. Then he’s up and down your slit, spreading your slick as it drools from your pussy, lubing his fingers to keep toying with you. You try to keep your mind on his words, try to keep your brain from giving in to the feeling of it. He doesn’t stop rubbing just because you need to shift gears, and it drives you mad.
One thick fingers pushes into your cunt and you whine. Your toes curl as you try to force yourself down against the shallow thrusts he pumps in and out of you. The drag of his callused finger against your walls warms in the pit of your stomach. It’s more than your finger’s ever been but it’s still not enough. You want to feel the stretch of him, you’re sure you’ll need it. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit, your hips following the feeling. He pulls away just enough to add a second finger and you moan.
The stretch is divine. Friction heat tugging at your entrance, pushing warmth through you with every pump. You do your best to fuck yourself on your cowboy’s fingers as the slick noise fills the cab of the truck. Your breathing is heavy, your whines turned to whimpers. He gives you just enough to make you eager for more. His fingers are slow and dutiful as they thrust into you, keeping you alert for his next command.
You try to reach for his cock, your fingers digging at his belt buckle. Only to have his fingers leave you, his firm hand wrapping around your wrist to put it back on the gear shift.
“Gotta be patient, Princess,” He tells you, “you want somethin’ you ask for it.”
Your fingers tighten, and you spread your legs a little wider. “Make me come,” You tell him, because you don’t think he can do it at this angle, with his eyes on the road.
“Good girl.” The praise shoots through you like lightening, your nerves on fire when his fingers push back into you. Slow and steady is gone, replaced by a pace that makes your head spin. Simon’s fingers curl, hitting the soft spongy spot near your entrance until you’re seeing stars. There’s a tightness in your belly, and a heat that washes over your cunt. He keeps his attention on your hole, your tingling clit ignored in favor of punishing your cunt for your attitude.
He doesn’t let up when he asks you to down shift. Your brain mush, your hips squirming as your muscles try to figure out what they’re supposed to be doing. You barely manage to get down to the next gear before you’re consumed by the raging heat and tightness his fingers fuck into you. Your whimpers are full blown moans, his name on your lips as you attempt to find the brain cells to beg for him to let you come. It’s all too much, too tight. You can hear the wet squelch of his fingers louder than the blood rushing in your ears, louder than the rumble of the engine.
You feel wet, something dribbling over your cunt, as your head tips back to account for your eyes rolling. Your back arches and all your muscles shudder as Simon’s fingers work you through the slip-splash of wetness. He only slows enough for you to get your bearings. Just enough for you to take in the wetness on the dashboard and soaking the fingers he raises to your mouth. Another downshift, your eyes fixed on him more than the scenery, your tongue swirling around his fingers.
Simon’s fingers leave your mouth to settle over your hand on the gear shift as you hit a gravel road. It’s so dark out, you could be anywhere, but Simon promised you a bed, and you don’t think a murderer would make you come before killing you. The truck is thrown into park, the engine switched off, your brain catches up just in time for Simon to open your door and pull you out. You’re tugged into a little house, and almost as quickly as the door is closed behind you, you’re set on your knees.
It’s dark in here too, but you can hear the rustle of denim, the groan of a man freeing his hard cock. You know your eyes will adjust, you’re already starting to make out the shadows of moonlight streaming in through the window, but you’re dying to see the monster you’d seen straining against his jeans. Simon’s hand finds your cheek, cupping your jaw as his thumb brushes your lower lip.
“Open your mouth love,” He murmurs, “Lemme feel your tongue.”
You follow his command too eagerly. His shadow leans over you, huge in the darkness, and his tongue drags against yours before he pulls back and spits on it. Your breath stops short, your stomach flipping as it starts to kindle a new heat. Simon’s cock slaps against your tongue. It feels heavy, uncut, the skin soft and salty. He drags it over your tongue, barely dipping into your waiting mouth, lubing himself on his own spit. Your head goes a little fuzzy at the thought. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, your cunt aching between your legs. As if he didn’t just get you off all over his truck.
It’s worth a little embarrassment for the way Simon groans at the feeling of your lips wrapping around his cock. He’s heavy on your tongue, weight against your jaw as he feeds you his cock. Inch by inch, so slow you can drag your tongue over the veins that thrum under his skin. Just the taste of him makes you want to buck your hips, and you reach to settle your hands on his thighs when he hits your gag reflex.
He stills, your fingers digging into muscle and coarse hair. You take steadying breaths through your nose before pushing your head down again. Something bright and ringing like a bell in your head is desperate to know where he stops, to feel him stretching out your throat. You have to swallow, shake your head to find the spot that doesn’t make you gag, not that Simon seems to mind. You think he likes when you pull back, gasping, so you can spit on his fat length and try again. Sucking and bobbing your head as you take him deeper and deeper is the least you can do for this man. That doesn’t mean you don’t feel a swell of pride when your nose finally buries itself in the curls at the base of his cock.
Simon’s hand comes around to cup the back of your head, holding you there. You glance up at him, his eyes shining in the low light. “Good fucking girl,” He growls out, “Just made to take my cock aren’t ya?”
You hum around his length, roll your tongue against him as best you can. His fingers grip your hair and pull you back, your spit slicking his length even with just moonlight setting the room aglow. Simon holds you at the tip, letting you circle it with your tongue, sucking and swallowing down the pre-come that drools from him. Simon’s hips buck, a soft swear dropping from his lips as you take the unexpected inch. His hand leaves the back of your head, fixing his hat where it’s started to tip off you and gripping the sides of your head. You lean back to look up at him, blinking the static of dark vision from your eyes.
“Gonna fuck this pretty face,” Simon tells you, his voice rough, like his vocal cords have been dragged through gravel. Despite the lack of tone, you know it’s a question, one you give a short nod to.
The first thrust of his hips is gentle, testing. You breathe through your nose, let him get acquainted with your gag reflex as you get used to the in and out feeling. Simon holds your head still, inching his cock deeper into your throat with each thrust. You hold your tongue flat against the underside of his heavy length, feeling the pulse of blood, the twitch of muscle as he works himself faster and deeper.
Your throat constricts and Simon pauses, before his hands yank you sharply, bypassing your gag and nestling you at the base of his cock. Your eyes water, your nose starting to run as your throat works around the intrusion. He stretches your throat around his thick cock, you can feel the press of him, uncomfortable but dripping warmth down your spine. Simon pulls you off, and you gasp, suck in a breath as you watch spit string between your lips and his cock. You get one good breath in before he’s fucking your face in earnest.
You whine around the fat cock testing the ache in your jaw as Simon’s hips snap against your lips. His balls slap against your chin, heavy and already pulling tight. You do your best to keep your mouth open, lips sucking at him as he moves. There’s an ache between your legs, a voice in the back of your mind that wishes it was your pussy getting this treatment. You can only imagine how deeply he’d hit you, the stretch of your lips around his cock making you prickle with ideas of the way he’d split your cunt open.
Simon pulls back with a low groan, and come hits your tongue before he’s pushing back in. You blink the tears from your eyes, swallowing as best you can as he comes down your throat. It’s a lot, enough that your hands leave his thighs to cup under your chin, waiting to catch the drool and spend that you’re sure is dripping from between your lips. Warm and bitter, you wonder what he’s been eating since he came to town, if he needs someone to put vegetables on his plate. He pulls his cock out of your mouth and you tip your head back, swallowing the hot come still on your tongue. You open your mouth, tongue out to let him see that you’re empty.
Simon is silent. Something in his shining eyes seems to mirror yours. His thumb strokes over your tongue, with a hum that makes you think he’s got something on his mind. It feels almost sweet, almost affectionate, as his fingers stroke over your jaw. He crouches in front of you, and his hands leave you, only to reappear on your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder as he stands with nothing more than a grunt. His shoulder is broad and warm under your stomach, you drag your hands up the corded muscles of his back and feel a pulse of attraction thrum through the heat simmering in your stomach. Fuck, he’s strong.
You’re tossed onto what must be his bed. You bounce on the mattress and attempt to get your bearings in the low light. Simon’s hat tumbles off your head, and you glance about in the darkness for it. The lamp next to the bed clicks on and you flinch at the sudden rush of light. The wash of warm light is too much after so long in the dark, but you’re faster adjusting to this than the darkness. Simon settles a hand on your thigh, pulling you close as he settles on the bed beside you.
“On me love,” He murmurs and you drag your eyes to his face, “wanna see when you ride my face.”
Oh. He isn’t wearing his mask. His eyes are desperate, brows drawn low to shadow the watery browns that stare at you. His nose looks like it’s been broken one too many times, and there’s a scar running across his lips that tugs a little too much of his teeth into such a pretty picture. There’s something soft to him though, something aching in the length of his jaw that makes you want to hold him close. You must hesitate, must take too long looking at him.
“Tongue still works,” He teases you, the pink muscle dragging over the split in his lip, his teeth.
“You’re awfully pretty to be wearing a mask,” You smile, moving to settle your knees on either side of his ears. (Big enough ears you think he must’ve had to grow into them) Simon hums, his hands coming to grip your thighs and pull you down against his mouth. You can see pink starting to creep over his cheeks even as his tongue drags along your slit. The thought that Simon must not take compliments easily is erased from your mind as his lips close around your clit and suck hard.
The electric feeling jerks through your body. So much time on your knees worshiping a cock that should have been splitting you open left you buzzing and now you’re getting some well deserved relief. Simon’s tongue is hot as it splits your folds, wiggling to lap at the slick you’d been drooling before rolling against your clit. Each touch to the sensitive bud sends another zap of pleasure ripping up your spine. You whimper, your chest heaving with breaths you hardly have the chance to take with the way he sucks at you. One of Simon’s hands leaves you, fishing around on the bed beside you. You frown down at him, pout really, until you feel his hat settle on your head again.
“Gotta keep your- your claim on me?” You ask, though you don’t think your tone is quite right. Simon hums under you, a groan of assent. He tips his head, dragging long strokes of his tongue over your slit. You’re too worked up already, his mouth feels like a furnace, his tongue touches you like a brand. Your hips move on their own, following the course of Simon’s tongue, your clit bumping against his nose as you grind yourself against his mouth. Your fingers hold your skirt up out of the way, you may as well be planning to shred the thing with how tightly your fingers dig into the fabric.
Simon stares up at you, his eyes closing with a satisfied groan as you grind a little more firmly against his tongue. Having his attention on you like this makes your stomach clench. You can feel his smile, feel his teeth just graze over your clit, teasing before he’s sucking at it. You squeeze his head between your thighs, half formed praises on your tongue as you feel your muscles start to tremble from the strain of your tightening orgasm.
The longer he licks you the less you can hear your own thoughts, too consumed by the satisfied groans and slurping sounds between your legs. Simon eats you like a starving man getting his first meal. His hands move to grab your ass, kneading the soft flesh between his fingers, and spreading you open just to feel you. Your slick is smeared over his mouth, smeared over your thighs where his stubble has dragged it across your skin. You feel wet and warm, your cunt tingling on the edge of your second orgasm of the night. His tongue wiggles its way into your hole and you break.
“Fuck me.” You whine, your words almost sobs as he shakes his head. You’re not sure if it’s a demand or simply a needy expletive. It doesn’t stop Simon from sucking your clit hard, his tongue swirling around the bud until your back arches and the tension in your stomach bleeds out in a rush of shivers and moans. Your pleasure coursing through you as Simon licks and sucks at your cunt until you’re jerking at the new sensitivity.
Simon holds your hips, drags you down to sit on his stomach, the firm muscle flexing as your legs are forced further apart by the sheer width of the man. He drags your sensitive pussy against his stomach, letting the blond hair tickle your clit. You pout, settle your hands on his chest to hold yourself steady with even when your muscles still shiver with every twitch of your hips.
His fingers grip the bottom of your shirt when you demonstrate you can grind by yourself. Simon tugs it up over your head and you happily assist in undressing. He’s quicker with your bra, unhooking the clasp before you can shrug the straps off. Simons big hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples. The touch is firm, appreciative, he squeezes the soft skin and you whine.
“Lemme ‘ear it again, Princess.” Simon rumbles. You can feel his voice low in his chest. His hands drop back to your hips to guide you. You don’t need to think to know what he’s asking.
“Fuck me Simon,” You breath, leaning to kiss him. You pull your tongue over his lips, tip your head to clean your come off his face. His mouth opens to catch your tongue, pushing his own to meet yours as you dip it between his lips. His hands raise your hips, angling you to notch his cockhead against your entrance.
You know this part, know the press of your hips down onto him, the breathless anticipation as he slowly stretches you. You must have forgotten how big he was on your tongue. You drop your head to rest your forehead against Simon’s cheek, the stretch of just his head making your eyes start to roll. His fingers stroke down your back, a comfort as you ease yourself down his length. Your every breath feels like it’s softened by a moan. The stretch of him burning against your entrance, his cock dragging against your gummy walls. You feel so tight around him you can feel the curve of his dick, the veins that line it, the ridge of his thick head.
Your legs still shake from your orgasm. If it weren’t for Simon’s hands holding you, you would’ve sunk down to the base of his cock just from the inability to hold yourself up. You attempt to push yourself up from the way you’ve cuddled close to your cowboy, and he holds you tight. The hand which had been petting down your back presses firm between your shoulders, his other arm wrapping over your him. You wonder- and then he thrusts the rest of his fat length into you and you don’t wonder anything else.
You all but collapse on his chest, his arm tight on the small of your back, arches your hips up as you bury your face against his neck. You can feel the mattress dip where he plants his feet before you feel the drag of his cock out of you, and the sweet friction of it sliding back home inside you. You dig your teeth into Simon’s shoulder, the scarred skin dipping under your bite as he fucks up into you.
Each stroke of his cock is like a punch in your stomach. The stretch of your cunt around him, his cockhead hitting your sweet spot every time it nudges your entrance, only adds to the devastating length of him. Your eyes roll, your voice tight when you have the air to let it escape you. He hits something inside you that almost hurts with how good it feels, the electricity of it shivering up your spine and tightening your muscles. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to push your hips back into the feeling.
“Tha’s it, sweet’eart,” Simon murmurs in your ears, “Jus’ like that.”
You whine at the praise, at the groan that follows it. He keeps you held so tightly against him, your nipples dragging against his firm chest with each thrust. You try to kiss at his neck, lips parting to pant with each pull of his cock. He fills you so full and deep you can hardly think. You’ve never had anyone hold you like this, never had anyone fuck you with the same sort of intense desperation. Simon’s lips press to your temple, his hips snapping to meet your weak thrusts with the wet squelching sounds of pleasure following.
Trying to draw a full breath is too much, you moan and squeak against Simon’s skin. Your lips travel over the scarred flesh, your teeth desperate to mark, to hold onto something as your fingers curl against his firm chest. There’s nothing for you to do but hold on and let this man take his pleasure from your body. Your hips stutter, the pleasure hitting you too tightly to keep your muscles moving. The tension in your muscles doesn’t stop Simon’s movements. His groans turn to growls, his lips moving with silent praise as he pistons into your clenching cunt.
The drag of his skin against your soft walls, the burn of friction, coupled with the deep punch of his cock drives you to the edge and holds you there. Every twitch and movement making sparks of pleasure light up your skin. Your muscles shake with the burn of contraction, the ache of being split open. Your cunt burns with desperate heat, and you snake one of your hands down to rub tight circles over your clit. It doesn’t take much for you to fall apart. Your cunt flutters, sucking at Simon’s cock as the attention to your clit shoots up your spine and melts over your muscles. You fall apart, and just as sincerely you fall against Simon’s chest, panting and whimpering his name on every stroke.
He fills you fast, his cock stilled inside your cunt as you feel it twitch. Heat fills you, burns you, marks you from the inside. Simon moans low in the back of his throat. He gives a few short thrusts, enjoying the clutch of your pussy, as you settle into the floating feeling of satisfaction. He pulls out and you feel his come drip out of your hole, sliding through your folds to pool against his softening cock.
"What is your favorite footie team?" Simon asks once he's found his breath. You yawn, wiggling to cuddle against him.
"Reds," You murmur, and hear him snort out a short laugh.
"Liverpool?"
"Can't all be Man U fans," You sigh, and Ghost thinks your voice must be like honey the way it sticks to his mind, "Someone's gotta win games."
Ghost bites down his smile, feeling the way you unspool against him. Your body going lax and your breathing evening out. Do you trust him so readily that you'd fall asleep like this? You barely know him, hell he doesn't even know your name, but here you are.
“Gonna keep you,” He tells you, it feels like speaking sin into the world, tainting this perfect thing that's fallen into his lap, but he's too greedy to care, “Not le’in’ you go, can’t.”
You don’t answer him with anything more than a half asleep hum. Your lashes flutter against his skin, your face pressed against his neck. Wrapped around him with all the comfort he could ask for. Ghost swallows, turns his head to press his lips to your temple, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and the sweat of sex. Such a pretty thing to fall into his arms so willingly. You compliment him too well, know what he wants before he asks for it. He’d be a fool to let you go. No, he’s keeping you, you’re the sort of girl men chase after with wedding rings, and he can already hear the bells ringing for him.
#cod x reader#x reader#simon ghost riley#x oc#cod x oc#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x oc#oc: goose#cowboy au#cowboy!ghost#cowgirl!reader#f!reader#minors do not interact
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Inspired by this gifset, and people in the tags saying "yoga teacher Tommy anyone?"
So, uh, please accept this offering of Season 1!Buck and Yoga Teacher!Tommy 😊 I haven't spell or grammar checked this, so please excuse any errors, I will do that before I put it on ao3 (maybe as a first meeting AU for BuckTommy week?) later lol.
Rating: Mature (esque), Buck is having some not safe for work thoughts about yoga teacher Tommy >.< (and Buck's own arousal 🤤)
Word count: 1.9k~
Enjoy!!
Buck slides through the half-open fire door at the yoga studio without double checking back down the alleyway he walked down. He's on the third yoga teacher from this particular studio, her name is Jewel on Tinder, and they usually fuck in her empty classroom.
She'd leave the door open; he would make his way through half empty hallways and dodge any actual pupils from her classes, and then they'd leave the door unlocked and-
So, he's not feeling like he needs to double check himself as he makes his way to her classroom. He keeps his head high, because if he bumps into Tiff or Kailey, he's not going to say no to them joining either, and saunters his way into Jewels classroom.
Buck feels wrong footed when he opens the door, and there is a man standing at the front of the class. He takes half a step back to check the room number on the door, and it's definitely 217 which is the number Jewel had texted that afternoon when he'd been sexting her from his bunk.
Buck knows he should probably turn around, leave, get out of there, because he has plans with Jewel, except he can't seem to take his eyes off the back of the head of this guy's head.
He's big, and burly, with arms that look like they could do some damage, rivalling some of the bigger men at the Firehouse. They're shiny and look near throbbing, in the way that Buck tends to see from the men at the gym who've just spent an hour working out, beads of sweat along lines of muscle. The kind of men he spends hours talking to about their routine, their protein intake, what weight they've made it up to.
Men who like and appreciate a good workout. Men whose physique Buck admires. Men who Buck looks up and down and commits to memory for inspiration when they're sweaty and their gym clothes no longer hide anything.
And, well, Buck can see from across the room that mystery male yoga teacher is covered in sweat. The guy's tank top isn't hiding anything, stuck to him, and Buck sees his shoulder muscles outlined by the dark fabric.
There is a towel slung over his shoulders that looks equally soaked, catching the beads that roll down his neck.
Buck follows the towel down the planes of the guy's back, the tank top clings to his waist and Buck wants to suck the sweat out of it.
The thought feels like a bucket of water over his head, and he blinks.
What?
Buck's mouth feels dry, and his mind is spinning, completely caught off guard by the desire to quench himself with a strangers sweat, and he's still staring at the guy's hips. He can't stop his eyes drifting lower and over those shorts that are obviously for modesty's sake but are achieving nothing because they've risen up between the guy's asscheeks and are cupping them perfectly.
Buck wants to blame having come here already half-horny and ready for a fuck for the way that his blood is rushing.
A good ass is a good ass.
And mystery male yoga teacher has a delicious looking one.
Buck takes a step back, committing mystery male yoga teacher's back profile to memory, and ready to find Jewel and not think about this.
But then the door swings closed against Buck's ass, and he stumbles forward into the room.
Mystery male yoga teacher jumps up and spins around and, God, Buck kind of wishes he hadn't.
The guy's front is just as gorgeous as the back, hair sticking to his forehead. His pecs are incredibly perky, yet another thing that Buck notices in other men when he's at the gym, and the tank top has risen up slightly to show off a hint of his abs, and the start of the 'v' down towards his groin and Buck would love to get his tongue in that and-
"Can I help you?"
Buck's head snaps up to look at mystery male yoga teacher's face and becomes aware that his mouth is open, and he's been looking at the poor guy like he was a tall glass of water and Buck parched.
Buck unsticks his tongue from his bottom teeth, and swallows. "Hi."
Mystery male yoga teach does not look impressed. He raises his eyebrow, - Buck wonders how someone can have such blue eyes, he could get lost in them - and tilts his head to the side.
"Want to try that again?" He asks.
Buck nods, a little numbly, and now he's looking at the guy's face, he can't stop. Buck kind of wants to kiss the guy's cheek bones, nibble along his jaw, lick the cleft of his chin. Buck's vision whites a little, as he tries desperately to steer his thoughts away from horniness.
"I," Buck starts to say, and his voice cracks so harshly that Buck has to stop and clear his throat. Maybe he was thirsty. "I was here to see Jewel."
"Jewel?" Mystery male yoga teacher says, eyebrows furrowed, looking so adorably confused as his face scrunches up. "Jewel...I don't..." Tommy's face goes completely blank for a second. "Ah, right, Julie. You mean Julie, kid?"
"Sure," Buck agrees, because he doesn't know Jewel as Jewel, but he's fairly certain Tiff and Kailey hadn't used their names either.
Mystery male yoga teacher rolls his eyes. "She went home with the flu just before her last class," he says, "sorry, kid."
He turns away, leaning over to start packing the bag at his feet, and Buck can't help but look at the guy's ass again. Bent over, it only makes those shorts ride up even more, and Buck imagines crawling across the yoga classroom floor and burying his face between them.
Can't be much different than with a woman, right?
Buck kind of wants to be smothered by them, wants to let the guy use his tongue, to feel strong thighs around his head. Buck swallows, and runs his tongue along the inside of his mouth.
"Anything else?" Mystery male yoga teacher asks still bent over.
Buck shakes his head, and then breathes. "No, nope, I'm just-" admiring the view? "I'll be leaving," Buck settles for.
But he doesn't get the chance to move, because mystery male yoga teacher chooses that moment to squat, and his thighs flex and Buck's vision has full on spots dancing in them now, with how easily the other mans legs bend, and how flexible he looks fully squatted, but strong and so in control, because his ass is just inches from touching the ground.
The man bounces when he reaches the bottom of his squat, just slightly, two bounces with his legs spread and his ass dropped, and, fuck, Buck hates that Jewel has flu.
He's going to need to borrow the studios showers to douse himself, for sure, because there's no way he makes it home with how hot he feels right now.
"Look, kid, need me to pass on a message to Julie?" Tommy asks, twisting around - still squatting, how flexible is he? - and looking at Buck.
Buck fumbles to pull his phone out of his pocket. "Nah, I can just-" He clicks the button, only for the screen to stay black. Well, that explained why Jewel hadn't messaged him that it was off. "Damn," he mutters.
Mystery male yoga teacher raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah, actually, can you just tell her that..." Buck trails off, and his face feels warm, because she's not going to know his name, but he can't just tell this adonis his tinder name, and he doesn't tend to tell people outside his job that his nickname is Buck. "Tell her Evan stopped by."
Mystery male yoga teacher bounces on the balls of his feet and stands up, his bag slung over one shoulder, and shakes his head. There's something to his expression, mild disappointment, but also understanding. "Julie's not going to know you as Evan, is she?"
Buck wishes the floor would swallow him up, because this man has him pegged. Or maybe he just knows his coworker really well. Could be either. Buck refuses to be embarrassed by it though, and he shuffles on the spot, puffing out his chest a little, and swallows to steel himself.
"It's, uh, Firehose."
Buck braces himself for ridicule, maybe a laugh, but mystery male yoga teacher doesn't laugh. He smirks instead, and his eyes drift down to Buck's body, lingering on Buck's chest for a few seconds before landing on half-hard cock.
Mystery male yoga teacher's eyes go half lidded, his tongue runs along his lips, and he swallows before tilting his head to the side. Buck wants to preen because he just got checked out. He just got checked out by a hot guy, and based on the reaction, the hot guy liked what he saw.
"Is it now?" Mystery male yoga teacher's voice is just as dry as his expression had been earlier, and something about that flat tone, the obvious flirt in it, does something for Buck.
"People like to tell me it is, at least," Buck flirts back with a wink.
Mystery male yoga teacher's grip on his bag makes his knuckles white, and the man nods. "I guess if it's peer reviewed," he says, finally looking away from Buck's groin to his face, and raising an eyebrow.
"By many people," Buck says, and then flounders a little because he knows he wants to flirt, but he hasn't flirted with a guy before, is he doing it right? "Very good at putting out fires, the pressure has five stars, definitely who you want to call for your emergencies."
The guy barks out a laugh, and maybe Buck missed the mark with that one, but the way mystery male yoga teacher's face scrunches up as he smiles is something Buck wants to treasure.
"Okay, well, down boy," he says. The words send a sharp bolt of electricity down Buck's spine, his skin feels like it's on fire, and he inhales sharply. "I'll let Julie know Firehose was here for her, okay?"
Mystery male yoga teacher is moving closer, clearly ready to leave, and Buck knows he'll probably never see him again if he lets him leave.
"Or, or, you could not," Buck says, quickly, it rushes out of him. "I mean, I-"
All Buck's smoothness is gone, and mystery male yoga teacher is barely two feet away, and now Buck can smell him. He sways on the spot, wants to chase that smell, press his nose into it and smell it forever. Most men at the gym don't get this close, but Buck thinks the gym might be ruined forever if he ever reacts like this again.
"Jewel didn't even give me her name," Buck says, and steps closer to him, "can't have been that serious, you know?"
"You didn't give her yours either," the man points out, unimpressed.
Buck nods, shaking his head in a 'good point' motion. "Okay, but I gave it to you."
Mystery male yoga teacher laughs again. "When I asked you." The lilt to his voice is like a sirens call, and Buck wants to make him laugh again.
"I don't give it to just anyone." Buck tries his best to look up through half-lidded eyes, bites his lip in a way one of his older flings used to like, and softens his eyebrows to appear just a little bit younger.
It works like a charm.
"Jesus Christ," Mystery male yoga teacher whispers, "you're something else, Firehose."
"Evan," Buck corrects, and smirks, because hook, line, sinker, he's bagged himself another yoga teacher.
"Well, Evan-"
Holy fuck, Buck is fairly certain he could come from this man's voice alone, his name in this man's mouth is a weapon.
"-I'm Tommy."
#911 abc#911 fic#bucktommy fic#kinley fic#bucktommy#kinley#evan 'buck' buckley#tommy kinard#wallabywrites#911 au#yoga teacher tommy au#i'll give it a tag in case i come back to do more#which i want to#because a smutty continuation is all i can think about#and i can include *armpit kink*#my writing
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ok ok, hear me out:
Eris being ticklish.
Eris’s mate finding out he’s ticklish.
Eris having to get over trauma of it “not being fitting of an autumn court heir.” Eris realizing it’s not a weakness and it’s just part of who he is thanks to his mate.
Anyway that’s all I really love Eris ✨
Do you think you can send this type of ask and not get at least a drabble??
I miss my mate.
Since his father’s death a few weeks ago, Eris had spent all of his waking hours working - either in back-to-back meetings or holed up in his office over stacks of paperwork.
I only get to see him briefly, stealing a few moments during the day, or when he slips into our bed in the early hours of the morning.
It’s another night of the same thing - the sheets are cold and empty beside me. I throw back the covers and sit up, stepping into my robe before padding down the hallway towards Eris’s study, where an orange glow creeps out from under the door.
I knock softly on the wood panel, and Eris answers with a soft “Come in”.
He’s hunched over his desk, papers and quills litter the surface. His reading glasses are perched on the end of his nose, which he takes off to rub his weary eyes.
“My flame,” he smiles softly, “What are you still doing up?”
“I can’t sleep. I miss you,” I move closer to Eris, who sits back and pulls me into his lap, the heat from his palms seeping into me.
I nuzzle into his neck, my breath tickles the side of his throat and Eris has to stifle his laugh.
I smile against his skin, his reaction not going unnoticed, and I snake my hands under his shirt and up his sides. Eris squirms under my light touch but I don’t stop. My fingers inch higher until Eris has enough and grabs my wrist firmly.
“My love, you’re treading dangerous teritory.”
I lift my head to look into Eris’s amber eyes - and the many thoughts swirling behind them.
“I miss you–” I kiss his left cheek– “I miss your laugh–” I kiss the right side– “I miss your touch–” my mouth finds his and I pour all my love into the kiss.
I remove my hands from his sides, bringing them up to wrap around his neck. “Come to bed,” I whisper again Eris’s lips. “Please.”
Eris gently caresses my face and I lean into his touch. “Okay, my flame. Let’s go to bed.”
#asks#requests#eris vanserra#eris vandaddy#eris x reader#eris acotar#eris vanserra x reader#acotar drabble#acotar#a court of thorns and roses
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it's just indifference
pairing: shauna shipman x reader
summary: You couldn't bite back your bitchy comment as Shauna walked in twenty minutes later than you agreed upon to work on your project, but you soon found that you couldn't regret it at all as you realized how hot she was when she was mad. Especially when it makes her stare you down as she climbs into your lap.
note: smut if it isn't obvious.
Had Shauna shown up on time, this never would have happened. But she was, in fact, twenty minutes late, and you couldn’t resist the urge to let out an irritated sigh as she walked into your room. She stops in the doorway, her hand clenched tightly around your door knob before she lets out a deep breath and closes it behind her. The door clicks shut gentler than you thought her capable of as she starts rifling through her bag for her notebooks.
“Practice ran late,” she says stiffly, a noticeable lack of apology as she collapses into your desk chair.
You weren’t planning on purposely pissing her off, but you quickly realized how hot she was as silently raged in the corner of your room. You were almost amazed at how quickly it happened, how quick she was to anger. It must’ve been something at practice, or on the drive to whatever friend she had to drop off.
It’s why the two of you ended up at your house instead of the library, as you only lived a few streets down. You certainly weren’t complaining. It saved you the hours you would’ve spent fucking around in the library till she got out of practice.
“Yeah, I guess when that’s all you have going for you, it must take priority.”
Her hand slams down on the desk with enough force that it shakes against the wall. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
You shrug leisurely, sitting up on your bed to get a better look at her. “Nothing.”
“No, obviously, you have something you want to say. Go ahead,” she says, leaning towards you, not the slightest bit self-conscious of the way it gives you a clear view down her shirt. Her eyes widen with realization as she catches your eyes flicking downward, her expression turning smug at the sign of interest.
“I guess I’m just tired of having to do all the work because some idiot jock wants to chase a ball around a field all day.”
“I’m not stupid.” She crosses her arms over her chest, her foot tapping impatiently against the ground.
Thinking Shauna was stupid was far from the truth– you were actually quite relieved when you realized you’d been paired together, knowing from personal experience just how smart she was. You’d caught sight of her last English test grade, after all. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen her get her test handed back face down, so you figured she had to be pretty intelligent. Still, it seemed like a quick way to piss her off.
“Is that right?” You ask, feigning disinterest. “Guess I’m just not a fan of your type, then.”
“Not a fan of me, you mean. Whatever. You’re not the first person to assume that all I can do is look pretty and kick a ball.” She scowls.
You laugh, laying back against the bed. “I never said you were pretty.”
“Oh? So you’ve got jokes now, huh?”
“Why? You too sensitive for them?”
She stiffens at that, her brown eyes flashing with annoyance as she stares down at her notes like her life depended on it.
“Is that what you think?” She asks, her body tensing as she tries to bite back a harsh retort. Instead, she sighs out slowly, silently trying to get a handle on her rage as she clenches her pencil tight enough that her hand shakes with the effort. You watch as her knuckles whiten, a harsh set of her jaw that makes you want to push against that fragile sense of control until she snaps.
“Yeah,” you say slowly. “Do you need me to use smaller words?”
That’s it. Her pencil snaps, her notes scattering to the floor as she stands up. She marches toward you, each step heavy and filled with intent. You prop yourself lazily on your elbows as she approaches, standing at the foot of the bed as she shakes beneath the weight of her rage.
“Mm. You don’t like me,” she starts, the bed sinking beneath her as she crawls toward you. You gasp sharply as one of her knees comes to rest against your hip, and then soon the other, straddling you on her knees.
“But you want me.”
Your hands come up to rest on her hips, a movement so unconscious that you don’t even realize till you feel the warmth of her against your palms even through her shorts. She smirks down at you, her gaze almost predatory as she takes in the sight of you.
“You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?” You ask, lamely. It’s not your best response by miles, but you’re far too focused on not embarrassing yourself further as she sinks down in your lap.
You inhale sharply at the sudden weight resting against you, a reaction that clearly delights Shauna as she grips a fist full of your shirt between her fingers.
She laughs, quiet and far too knowing as she slowly rocks her hips forward. The bed creaks with each powerful roll of her hips, the muscles in her thighs flexing distractingly all the while. You’re so distracted, in fact, that you don’t realize her hand has moved until it’s gripping your chin. Her thumb digs painfully into your jaw as she forces you to look at her.
“Just highly enough, I think.” Shauna’s voice lowers into a whisper as she leans closer, turning your head to mouth at your neck. “Don’t act like you don’t like it. I’m pretty perceptive, you know.”
She pulls back, leaving you to chase after her lips before you get ahold of yourself.
“Perceptive, huh?” you ask, running your hands up her sides as you lift her shirt up. Your fingers rest just under her bra, your thumbs just grazing her chest as you watch the intoxicating way she moves. You can’t tear your eyes away from the way her muscles tense, following her as she moves. She hums, leaning forward to show off as she enjoys how blatantly you were staring at her.
“What am I thinking right now?”
“If I answer that, you’ll just deny it.” She moans as she hits just the right angle, her hips stuttering for a moment before she recovers.
“Try it?”
“You’re thinking about how good I feel on your lap,” she tries, keeping a steady rhythm as she lets you pull her shirt off and over her head. You go straight for her arms, squeezing her biceps happily as you test their firmness. You can’t help but grin: she’s just as strong as you imagined she was.
Her breath hitches as your fingers graze her stomach, blushing prettily as she catches you staring at her chest. “And,” she continues, grabbing at your wrists as she pins them down. “You’re thinking you’d like to know how strong I am.”
“Wrong,” you murmur.
She laughs, a dry mocking sound that sends shivers down your spine. Her hands move from your wrists to rest on your stomach as she rests her weight on you, a grounding pressure that keeps all your attention on her as she pushes you down into the bed.
“Yeah?” she asks breathily, clenching the fabric of your shirt between her fingers and watching as it exposes the skin of your stomach.
“Thinking about how much I'd rather be doing our English project.”
She snorts, a dorky laugh escaping that clearly embarrasses her as her hips still. She looks away, hiding the flush of her face as she stares daggers at the sheets.
“No,” you say, amused. “Keep going. I like the whole thing you have going on.”
“That right?”
“Yeah, it's working for you. You look hot.”
“Hotter than Jackie?” She asks.
“Who?”
Her expression is unreadable, a dozen different emotions crossing her face before she finally settles on one you've never seen from her: hunger. She surges forward, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as she roughly grinds down against your lap.
You gasp, digging your fingers into her hips as you pull her harder against you. She moans against your skin, sucking a mark into the line of your jaw as her nails drag across your stomach. Her body’s warm where it's pressed against you, nearly chest-to-chest as she takes what she needs from you.
Her back arches as you blindly reach between your bodies, fingers teasing at the waistband of her shorts as your fingertips just barely slip beneath them. “You’re so annoying,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin as her teeth graze delicately along the skin beneath your jaw.
“God…” she pants, her face buried into your neck as she lets out a whine. Her jaws a little slack, lips parted as quiet sounds are forced out of her.
“You’re so pretty,” you murmur idly, your thumb rubbing across the button of her pants.
“Shut up.” She huffs. “You're so stupid.”
You nod, stupidly, eager to please as your fingers make light work of opening up her shorts. She sighs as the button comes undone, the cool air rushing against her warm skin. She only gets more eager as your fingers slowly pull down the zipper, letting out a breathless laugh against your skin.
She shudders against you as the palm of your hand presses against her stomach, your fingers nearly dipping into her underwear, but not quite.
“Stupid,” she mumbles against your skin. Shauna’s trying to come off as annoyed, but her voice is too breathy and shaky to be effective. “Stupid and dumb and…” She trails off, her body jolting as your hand sneaks beneath the denim.
“And?” You prompt, palming her warm skin through the fabric of her panties.
“Don’t–” Her words cut off with a sharp gasp, her teeth sinking into your skin as she struggles between pushing up against your hand or pressing down against your lap, lost in her need for some kind of friction.
“I hate you,” she says, fingers clutching at your shirt as if to pull you closer. Despite her complaints, she makes no effort to remove your hand from her shorts, shifting on top of you to spread her knees wider. Her voice is strangled as she pants against your throat, shuddering against a particularly clever brush of your fingers—she's so wound up and it's making her desperate.
“You’re kind of mean,” you comment, pressing your palm against her clit as you slip a finger inside her. Her thighs squeeze tightly around your hips, her knees digging into your sides as she stares down at you. Her eyes are slightly unfocused, her teeth digging into her lip to keep herself quiet.
She props herself up on her arms, hands resting on either side of your head as her hair brushes against your face. Shauna uses the position to her advantage, rolling her hips into your hand as she uses her leverage.
“You deserve it,” she huffs, trying to glare at you but ending up moaning as your fingers keep their pace. Her thighs jerk, hips rolling in desperate circles as you coax the pleasure out of her with each torturously slow thrust. She’s wound up so tight she can barely stand it.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” Shauna breaks off into a moan, her fingers digging painfully into your shoulder in retaliation.
She’s arching into your hand, her body trembling with each gasp that escapes her. Shauna’s pissed, and more than a little humiliated to find herself so quickly at your mercy. It’s clear that this wasn’t how she saw this whole night going. She can’t help the roll of her hips against your hand, forcing you deeper as she practically rides your finger. “Give me another one,” she demands.
“Would it kill you to be nicer?” You mutter, slipping another finger inside of her with little complaint. She cries out, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face at how sensitive she is.
“Would it kill you to stop– to stop talking?”
You groan, one hand fisting in her hair as you pull her neck close enough to reach with your mouth. Shauna moans at the flash of pain, and whether it was the hand pulling her hair or the feeling of your teeth sinking into her neck that made her eyes slam shut as she cries out and buries her face into your shoulder, you’ll never know.
“Did you just–”
She slaps a hand over your mouth, embarrassed and shy all of the sudden as she lazily rocks into your hand.
“No,” she hisses, shaking her head even her face flushes a deep red. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, a distracting motion that makes your view down her bra all that more enticing. Her thighs tremble around you, telling enough that even she starts to realize how stupid she looks denying it.
She nearly whimpers as you give her hair a little tug, her hips twitching as she bites her lip to stifle the noise. Shauna’s so sensitive in the aftermath, but she can’t seem to fully pull herself away from you.
“Don’t. Don’t you dare say anything,” she warns.
She pulls her hand away with a gasp as you bite at her fingers, examining them closely as she sits up on your hips. Shauna still can't meet your eye, steadfastly refusing to acknowledge the hand you still have shoved in her pants as she pretends to look at literally anything else in your room.
“It's okay,” you start, a mocking press of your palm against her that has her grinding on your hand again. “I heard finishing too soon–”
“You're the worst,” she manages through gritted teeth, her jaw clenched as she finally manages to look you in the eye. Despite her complaints she's still moving steadily against your hand, the rock of her hips putting your wrist in an uncomfortable position now that she's sitting up.
She opens her mouth, presumably to complain as you pull your hand away, but she shuts up just as quickly as your fingers curl around her chin. Her eyes flick down at your hand, your wet fingers leaving streaks against her face where you hold her.
You watch as her mouth parts, licking her lips before reaching for your hand. She watches you closely as she slowly takes your fingertip into her mouth, her tongue darting out to lap at the web of your fingers before she moves onto the next. She’s almost methodical in her movements, actions perfectly designed to drive you crazy.
God, she was just something else.
“You know what I’m thinking about now?” You ask, unable to take your eyes off of her for even a second.
She hums around your fingers in lieu of an answer, the vibrations making your breath hitch as you stutter over a reply. “Thinking about how good you’d look underneath me.”
Shauna can't speak with your fingers in her mouth and instead lets out a low whine as she sucks on them, tongue swirling around them as she turns her attention to your last finger.
Shauna pulls your fingers out with a wet pop, holding on to your wrist as she drags your spit soaked fingers across your face. You wrinkle your nose as you squirm away from it, but she only delights in your reaction. “That’s for pissing me off,” she mutters, just low enough that you weren’t sure whether it was meant for you or not.
“You don’t think I look good on top of you?” she continues, leaning back on her knees as her fingers play with the waistband of her panties. You watch as her fingertips just barely slides beneath, ensuring she has your attention before the rest of her hand disappears into her panties.
It's too much for her, you can tell. She's so sensitive that she can barely take it, but she stubbornly refuses to stop. The expression on her face verges on pained, a choked noise leaving her lips as her hips jerk clumsily against her hand.
She's battling the urge to keep her eyes focused on you, just barely starting to slip shut before she catches herself. “Fucker,” she grumbles, enjoying your attention despite herself. You run your hands up her thighs, scratching your nails down the length of them as Shauna squirms on top of you.
The muscles in her thighs tremble from the effort after spending so long riding you, on top of the time she's spent practicing. You're impressed she's managed it this long. You can't even imagine how sore she must be. It makes you wonder how long she could go at the top of her game, how long she could–
“Hey,” she whines. “Pay attention. Do you have something better to do?” Shauna can barely find the strength to ride her hand anymore, settling for a slow grind as the sweat drips down her face. Her head is thrown back as she finally lets her eyes closed, exposing the delicate arch of her neck and the beginnings of a dark bruise you'd sucked into her neck.
You can't take it anymore, reaching up and pulling her down to meet your lips before flipping her on her back. Shauna grunts in surprise, squirming beneath you as she pulls her hand out of her shorts. She tugs at the back of your shirt, pulling it over your head and making you flail around like an idiot as she gets it stuck on your arms.
You throw it to the floor with a huff as you finally manage to untangle yourself from it, glaring down at her as she grins from ear-to-ear.
With her back pressed up against the bed, she looks a little more disheveled than before: her hair messy as it spreads around her head, her face flushed with heat as she gives you a familiar smirk.
Shauna laughs, wrapping her legs around your waist and pulling you closer, forcing you down on top of her. She looks so smug, so pleased with herself that all you want to do is wipe that cocky look from her face. You push up on your knees, ignoring her complaint as you trail kisses down her neck.
You can't resist mouthing at her chest through her bra, pulling away with a teasing nip that has her pulling at your hair as you move to kiss your way down her stomach. You sit back on your knees as you get to her shorts, fingers curling around the waist as you start to work them down her legs.
Shauna's all too eager to assist, planting her feet and arching her hips off the bed as you pull her shorts down her legs. She makes a pleased noise as you press a kiss against her knee, hooking her other leg over your shoulder and she spreads her knees wider.
The sound she makes as your lips graze her inner thigh is nothing short of obscene, her hand grabbing at head on nothing but pure reflex.
Her eyes slam shut in embarrassment as she realizes just how needy she sounds. “You–You're so– God. Just eat me.” She pulls painfully against your hair, clearly trying to save face, but no one has to tell you twice.
You're eager to finally get a taste, having wanted nothing more than to bury your face in her pussy for most of the night. She cries out at the first touch of your tongue, so sensitive and so worked up that it's clearly all she can do not to come right then.
Shauna huffs out a laugh as you squeeze her thigh, lazily moving into your mouth in a sign of encouragement. Reassured, you turn your attention back to her clit, giving it as much attention as she can bear.
She swats your hand away as you tentatively trail it up her thigh, keeping your head in place as she pulls you just where she wants you. Shauna gets so eager that you have to pin her hips down, bucking into your mouth as you start to suck and then–
“Fuck,” she calls out, a high and needy cry that you know she'll deny making when she has the ability to. Her thighs shake uncontrollably on your shoulders, breathing heavily as she comes down.
“I'm tired,” she whines, trying to arch away into the bed. You rub the outside of her thigh comfortingly, tentatively licking into her as she relaxes.
“Stop. Stop,” she pants, her foot pressing into your side. “I can barely think.”
“What's a jock need to think for, huh?” You ask, pulling your mouth away from her as you stare up at her from between her thighs. You glance down meaningfully before meeting Shauna's eyes again in a silent question. She seems to honestly consider it for a second before shaking her head, pushing weakly at your face as she lets her legs fall open.
“You're such a distraction,” she complains, her eyes narrowing on the way your face glistens before forcing herself to look away. “We were supposed to be working on the project, idiot.”
“Finished it before you got here,” you say, flopping down next to her as you stretch out. She turns on her side to face you, her eyes narrowed as she tries to find something else to complain about.
Finally, after a long minute of contemplation. “You seriously took all my clothes off but my bra?”
You snicker, one arm resting across your eyes as you block out the light. Shauna huffs, hesitantly scooting closer to rest her head on your chest.
She trails her hand down your stomach, scratching lightly at the skin. “When I can think again,” Shauna warns playfully, lazily snapping the waistband of your underwear against your skin.
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any late night thoughts tonight?
need an excuse to *********
I wasn’t planning on any but for you anon I have smth lil
thinking about academy coryo…you’re paired with him for a project and end up doing the work together one day after school in the library.
perhaps he always had a little bit of a crush on you, he’d always tell himself it’s nothing too major, just the occasional notice that you look pretty, or that your smile makes his heart beat quicker or that he likes the way your school issued shirt fits you just right. Nothing major.
So he’s fairly calm the entire time you’re studying and doing joint research in the library. It was efficient, splitting up tasks easily and reconvening every now and then. Coryo actually found himself liking working with you. And maybe you have to head home early and he says he’s gonna stay back and get some more done. In truth, he just doesn’t want to go home yet. But he wouldn’t tell you that. It would’ve been about 15 or so minutes since you left when he realizes you left your handkerchief behind.
He figures you would come back, would notice that you’re missing it. But you don’t come. And a little more time passes. There’s no way Coryo could bring himself to walking over to your family’s apartment, too many scenarios ran through his head. So he decides to take the handkerchief home with him and give it back to you in class.
Coryo isn’t even sure what ends up compelling him. Maybe it’s the smell of your perfume on the handkerchief or the sole fact that it’s yours, or it’s because he hasn’t jerked off in over two weeks and the image of you in your pretty blue blouse was seared into his mind after sitting with you for three hours.
He finds himself on his stomach in his cramped, uncomfortable bed, boxers not even off yet, your handkerchief at his side, as he pushes himself against the mattress. He’s so hard already, almost too much, he thinks. Barely even remembers ever feeling this needy for a release, it’s always making his hips stutter and press his hardened cock harder on the bed.
Eventually he peels off the boxers, his skin already warm. He didn’t mean to grab your handkerchief. He braced his hand on the bed and his hand just so happened to land on your scarf. The smooth material nice around his fingers, it felt like he was lured to bring the fabric to his cock, sliding himself against it, imagining it was you beneath him.
That he was grinding himself against you. His face is against his pillow and he imagines his head between your breasts, kissing where he can.
That particular vision makes him press harder into the scary, fixing the fabric around his cock so he can be fully buried in you. Something of you.
He switches from grinding to stroking his dick with the fabric, his pace quickening without any thought. It feels too good. Coryo can’t question the morality of this when he hasn’t felt this good from touching himself in so long.
As he turns onto his back he imagines you pushing him down, straddling his hips and sinking down on him. He wonders what you sound like when you’re getting fucked. He wonders if you get yourself off in your pretty room, (he’s guessing it’s pretty).
Coryo can see the way he’s already made a wet spot on your handkerchief and he curses himself for it but he can’t bring himself to stop when he’s so close. His mind quickly racks over where he’d love to cum if he was with you. In you? On you? Would you like that? He opts on thinking about your thighs, about nudging the tip of his cock to the soft skin of your inner thigh as he spills himself, marking you, so close to your cunt but not quite.
A few more firm strokes and he’s cumming hard into the handkerchief, muffling his moans with a hand over his mouth. When he’s done and spent, he looks at the stained handkerchief, his relaxed and satisfied state turning to something of panic.
He needs to clean that good. Or just never give it back to you.
#coryoasks#I said smth lil then this kinda#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus smut
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Joel Miller's Midwestern Road Trip Fantasy - joel miller x reader oneshot
masterlist
summary: an AU of the journey out to wyoming, wherein you and joel's car troubles take a little more elbow grease to solve than strictly necessary.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, post outbreak!joel, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, tlou hbo, protective!joel, non-established relationship, AU without ellie, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), riding, end of the world sex, rough!joel, heavy on the petnames, porn with some plot, porn with some feelings
words: 2.4k
a/n: im a woman of the people! also: the alternate title became the actual title
-
With Joel kept busy under the hood of Bill’s blue chevy pickup, you spent a few hours sprawled out in the bed of the truck, the wind coming on heavier as the afternoon bore on. It made your hair splay out and then skim across your bare shoulders, ridding you of any protection from the sun as it beat down onto the hopeless open field.
Your gaze turned hazy and unfocused in the mugginess of the early September day. The clouds in the sky looked thin and delicate, like silk threads or a broken string of pearls. You had already broken a sweat laying out here, but it was far less suffocating than sitting in the truck. Your position at this point felt unmoveable– your body was laden, even your eyelids, struggling to keep them open under the stifling sunlight.
You heard Joel slam the hood of the truck shut, which preceded a long sigh and the sound of him wiping dry hands against his jeans. He slapped the body of the vehicle on his way over to you, staring down at you with an exasperated look.
“Think it's the heat,” he started, leaning against the blazing metal with his arms crossed over his chest. “Gonna give it some time to cool down.”
Your borrowed truck had started jolting and sputtering a few miles back, right after you had crossed the state line into Missouri. You didn’t exactly feel it was fair for Joel to be so upset by it– you were fortunate to have even made it this far without being on foot. Beggars can’t be choosers, trying to make it all the way to Wyoming on borrowed luck.
“Hope you’re right,” you said, casting your eyes over to him with a hand shielding your brow. “I’m not walking anywhere in this heat.”
He cracked a grin. “Oh, yeah? Is the sun gettin' to you, cowgirl?” He nudged your foot over to the side before hauling himself up to lay next to you in the truck bed, grabbing a hold of your waist to press your bodies together.
The warm daylight was making his eyes look like melted mahogany and the baby blue color of his t-shirt brought out the warmth in his skin. Devastatingly handsome, even with that lingering exhaustion plaguing his expression. He almost never took to your compliments, but in the moment, there were hardly words to describe the feeling pooling low inside of you.
“I’m more worried about you, Eastwood,” you teased, licking your thumb to smudge away the swipe of car grease that had found its way onto his cheek. “I think you’d keel over first.”
You were grinning up at him as he pulled you in by the hips, finally receptive to your efforts to get him out of whatever funk that a broken-down car had put him in.
“Oh, so now you’re happy, ain’t ya? Think you’re funny? You weren’t so chatty in the car, sleepin’ all the way through Indiana. Hm? Hey, c’mere!”
You tried squirming away, but being in the sun had exhausted you and his grip was just too strong and too enticing. His hand found the space just below your sex, running deft fingers across the thick denim of your light blue jeans. He had a firm grip on your face and jaw with the other, kissing you dizzy and breathless. You moaned around the thumb that had made its way into your mouth, tangling your hand into those wind-swept curls.
“I’m starting to think the car troubles were just a ploy,” you said, giggling as Joel shifted to hover overtop of you. “I didn’t know this had turned into Joel Miller’s midwestern roadtrip fantasy.” He hooked his thumbs into your belt loops, decidedly pinning you there.
He silenced your teasing with another saccharine kiss, and you could smell the diluted gasoline and warm grass on him. His mouth was so familiar that you feared the two of you would melt into one, breathing through the same dry, shared lungs.
“You are a fantasy, sweet thing, don’t get that twisted,” he breathed out. You did have time to kill, that was true enough– and you could already tell that Joel was going to make it an obscenely slow death.
He couldn’t have shoved down your tight jeans fast enough. Desperate hands nearly ripped your shirt as he pulled it up and off of you, carelessly pushing your bra out of the way to access the soft skin of your breasts, swollen and sensitive with arousal. His lips and the tip of his teeth grazed the tissue, kissing and nipping and biting wherever he saw fit. Soon, wet mouth and tongue trailed straight down your center, kisses placed haphazardly along your flesh. The mere sight of his bulging bicep as he propped himself up above you with both arms was enough to raise chills all over your exposed skin.
You paused him where he was to desperately fumble with the button of his own jeans and rip down the fly, sliding your hand into his pants to palm his growing erection through his boxers. He intercepted the touch, gripping your wrist tight before pinning it back down above your head.
“Don’t remember sayin’ you could touch me, pretty girl. Needy for me, ain’t ya? ‘M not done with all of you just yet.”
In an instant his head was between your thighs, licking along the depths of your puffy, glossy folds. A calloused hand gripped your thigh, forcing your legs obscenely far apart– exposed. There was nobody else out here, in the back countries of a state that barely existed anymore. You didn’t even care that the warm breeze would have carried your pleading and moaning a mile out, not while his tongue swirled and kissed against the expanse of your cunt. His mouth and tongue devoured you, devoured you like he was starving for it. A shrill beg fell from your lips as he started fucking your slicked hole with three hot, pulsing fingers, desperate for him to either end this here or fuck you faster.
“That’s it, right there, isn’t it?” He said, hunger and aching seeping unabashedly into his voice.
When your walls started closing in around his middle three fingers, suctioning him in even deeper, he finally pulled out of you, leaving you with tears in your eyes and a deep pulse beat inside of you.
“No, no, please don’t stop–”
He licked his fingers clean before pressing his thumb to your lips as he grabbed your face, stopping all of your ramblings for the moment. “Hush, honey. You’re gonna ride me now, and you can fuck yourself as much as you want. Y’want that, doll face? C’mon, I need you,” he said, a stern fondness about his tone.
You complied in strict obedience, letting him rest on his back while you finally peeled yourself up from the hot molded plastic. You finally resumed your work of getting his length free from his boxers, pulling his jeans down to his mid thigh.
You couldn’t wait to slip the thick head of his cock into your wanting mouth, hardly able to handle the sight of his pleasured expression, that pinch in his brow smoothing away. He always made you feel like your own mouth could be medicine. Your head bobbed down his length, running your tongue along thick, pulsing veins. Saliva filled your mouth and you let it come, using your free hand to slide up and down his base while you focused your attention on the more sensitive cockhead. You looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes, grazing his tip against the ribbed roof of your mouth.
“Oh honey, oh honey– not too far, wanna come inside of you. Listen to me now, I know you like feeling all filled up, too,” he said quickly, barely able to get the words out as an involuntary groan clawed its way out of his throat.
You did listen to him, because you were Joel’s– not because he ever told you that, but because you knew you were his last good thing in this life, his last sweet thing, and you would’ve done anything for those praises to fill your ears and blind all else.
You lined yourself up with the reddened tip of his cock and sank down on it, your own head lolling back as your walls contracted and spasmed around him. You moved yourself up and down his length slowly, dizzyingly, for your own selfish reasons– you liked having the control to ensure that you could use his cock to satisfy every hopelessly sensitive spot inside of you.
“More, babygirl, more– fuck, fuck, yeah, keep doin’ that– just like that, jesus christ–”
Your pace quickened as you became increasingly desperate to finish on top of him. His cock filled you to the brim, stretching you out and gagging your channel enough to keep continuously shoving your own wetness back up inside of you– stuffing you, suffocating you. The sheer size of him ensured that you hardly even had to move for it to blind you with pleasure, but for his sake, you followed his instructions.
“My sweet, perfect little thing– oh, holy hell, baby, I can’t– can’t–”
You kept pleading out his name: Joel, Joel, Joel. You said it until you couldn’t even remember how to say it, spell it, form the words with your tongue and mouth. Your orgasm built up frustratingly fast, hitting you in a long moment of nearly unbearable bliss and sweetness. The feeling started so low, nearly where Joel’s cock was hitting inside of you, and climbed its way up until you were lightheaded. Your walls clenched rapidly around his stiff cock, with him blessing your name enough that it would surely memorialize you in sainthood. You were so achy and sensitive by the time you had rode it out fully that you whined and squirmed as he implored you to go on– help him to get there, too.
He came just as hard and fast as you, gripping at your hips hard enough to leave marks as he guided your movements through it for himself. You could feel the hotness of his cum unloading inside of you, straight to your center, like this was exactly what you were made for. It left him breathless, and you pressed yourself close to his chest to kiss him more as he calmed down. You didn’t want to pull out of him– you wanted to savor that warmth, the sticky clickiness of his liquid filling you up to the point that it was spilling out of you. In the end, it really did feel like the two of you had fused into one.
He finally helped you to drag yourself up off of him, and you immediately sank back against his truck bed, your head like dead weight against his shoulder. The outside heat left the both of you covered in a sheer layer of sweat, but neither one made any moves to get up and clean yourselves off.
You just let him tuck you in close, close enough to hear his heartbeat go from rapid to steady and sure. It was almost a rarity to hear it so calm, to know that he felt safe for once, content and warm. After a long few moments of basking in the quiet nature and fleeting sun, you propped yourself up on an elbow to stare down at his face.
His lips had the ghost of a smile on them, and he brought his expansive hand to tuck your hair behind your ears and cup your face.
“Ain’t complaining about the heat now, are you, sweet thing?”
You swatted him on the arm, giving a playful roll of your eyes as you leaned down to kiss him once, twice more.
“I just think we should make a few more of these pit stops before we hit Wyoming,” you drawled, leaning into the touch. “If you can squeeze it into our oh-so-tight schedule, of course.”
“Keep runnin’ your mouth so much and I just might have to.” He struggled to cast a glare at you.
“Mmh, and I bet you’d just hate that, wouldn’t you?”
That got you a rare, genuine laugh from him. “Oh, you know I would.”
-
You stayed a few hours more before Joel tried his luck at starting up the truck again. Much to his delight, the ‘old hunk of metal’ (his words, not yours) sputtered and coughed back to life. He called you his good luck charm, and soon enough the two of you had to get back on the road.
He kept a firm hand on your thigh as he drove, and he didn’t protest when you finally dozed off closer to sunset. He waited until you were asleep to let himself think about the difficulty of the tasks that were ahead of you two. He often felt like protecting you was all that kept him going after all this time, and it hurt like a deep, aching wound to think of the times that he had missed that mark.
You, though. He could still picture your face in the sun without feeling the barrel of a gun pressed to his temple. You were the last thing in this world that he really felt a responsibility for, his last good thing. The last thing for him to lose, too, but he wasn’t willing to let that mistake happen twice. He had this resolve that he wasn’t allowing anything to happen to you while he was still around. Maybe the way he felt about you was selfish, but the last 20 years would do that to a person.
For now, though, he could try and make it worth it. Drive until the exhaustion forced him to pull over, go on for as many days as it took to finally get you somewhere you could be safe. Be happy, get that life that shouldn’t have ever had to be just a fantasy to you.
You stirred after a particularly bothersome bump in the road, tired eyes searching for reassurance in Joel’s face.
“We’re okay, darlin’. Go back to sleep,” he whispered. He ran his thumb across the familiar denim that covered your leg. This is what he could live for. He’d do almost all of it again to get to you.
But for now, the least he could do was let you rest.
-
#joel miller fic#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#Pedro pascal#Pedro pascal x reader#the last of us#the last of us hbo#tlou#tlou hbo#Joel miller tlou#the last of us fic#tlou fanficiton#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#Pedro pascal fic#joel miller x y/n#Joel miller smut#Pedro pascal smut#pedrito#tlou hbo AU#cowboy joel miller
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your honor, they're just my little guys.
shitty sketches of the comic this was supposed to be part of under the cut
#nurt#part two of me posting old drawings that have been sitting in my files forever!#Yeah I actually spent over eight hours on this and then realized their heads were too big...#and so it sat in eternal draft limbo......#sure hope it's not too noticeable!#SO I really like how Kakashi looks but I think Obito came out too rigid.. I wanted to make him look surprised#but I think I ended up too robotic with it#probably should have made him hold a kunai or smth...#kakaobi#tobito#kakashi#naruto#obikaka#kkob#obkk#uchiha obito#hatake kakashi#kakaobi fanart
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Anticipation III
Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader
Warnings: 18+ / Smut
Description: This is the third fic in the Anticipation mini-series (it started off as a oneshot, and here we are 😋)
Anticipation / Anticipation II
Time/Place: June 1, 2024 - Cincinnati, Ohio
A/N: In this fic, Joe & Reader are engaged & living together in a LTR.
Inspo pic: (screenshot from WLWT5 News)
ETA: check out this post by @alertbooty to see the gray shorts in motion 🤤
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Saturday, June 1, 2024 - Cincinnati, Ohio
You come awake slowly, stretching your arms overhead while yawning, the smell of coffee in the air alerting you to the fact that Joe's parents are already up downstairs. They spent the night since y'all got home late last night from the charity golf event.
You check the clock on the bedside table -- 8:09 am -- before turning your head to look at Joe. He's sleeping peacefully, stretched out face down with the covers kicked off. You lean up on one forearm and look down at him in the diffuse morning light filtering in through the window blinds. His bangs are covering the half of his face that isn't buried in his pillow, and his lips -- plump, pink and slightly parted -- are the only facial features you can make out.
As you admire him, he gives a tiny snore and stirs in his sleep, pulling one long leg up in a way that draws your attention to his ass. He's dressed only in a pair of black boxer briefs, and you take your time letting your gaze run over the delicious dips and swells of his mostly-naked, muscular body, from his broad shoulders all the way down to his bare feet. Damn, you think to yourself, your eyes eventually settling on his bubble butt as you lick your lips and consider your options:
Option 1 - wake him up with a good morning kiss planted directly on one perfect butt cheek (which will def lead to other things)
Option 2 - let him sleep since he's clearly exhausted (y'all didn't get to bed until after midnight last night)
~
The Joe Burrow Foundation 2nd annual golf outing was held yesterday. You stayed behind the scenes to allow him and his parents time to shine without having to read a bunch of comments about you under the pics posted on the Foundation's social media pages; half the comments would say he can do better than you, and quite a few of the other comments would grossly objectify you, as usual. It was your idea to stay in the background, and Joe eventually agreed even though the reason for it aggravated him.
He was nearly asleep on his feet when y'all finally got home last night. A week of practice followed by an event where he had to give a speech and socialize with folks totally zapped his energy. He barely got his teeth brushed before stripping down to his undies and collapsing into bed. Luckily he had a shower between his round of golf and the after party.
~
I should let him sleep, you think with regret, your body already perking up at the thought of a naughty morning romp. You gently ease out of bed, giving one last look at his perfect ass before heaving a sigh and walking into the bathroom to start your morning routine.
~ ~ ~
Just over an hour later, you wave to his parents as they pull their car out of the driveway and head down the street, a knowing smile gracing your lips when you walk back in the house to the sound of Joe clomping down the stairs just as you shut and lock the front door.
"Perfect timing," you tease as he rounds the corner and walks toward you, his messy bedhead making you giggle as he shuffles up to you and leans down to wrap you in a tight hug.
"Thanks for handling them," he mutters, his hot breath tickling your neck as he plants a kiss in that sensitive spot just behind your ear.
You sigh as you lean into his warm embrace. "You're welcome," you murmur, relishing the feel of his big body enveloping you for several heartbeats before stepping back and looking up into his face. "I knew you needed extra sleep this morning since you had a hard week."
"You always know just what I need," he grins, yawning and stretching as you grab one of his hands and lead him into the kitchen.
"Speaking of that … have a seat," you state, pointing at a barstool at the kitchen island as you quickly pull items out of the fridge to make his breakfast.
~ ~ ~
Thirty minutes later, he's mopping up the last bite of his turkey bacon frittata with a slice of multi-grain toast as you finish your second cup of coffee.
"What do you have going on today?" you ask.
"Gonna rest for a couple hours then get a work-out in here at home. What about you?" he asks, glugging down his remaining juice before handing you the empty glass.
You grab the glass and reach for his empty plate, giving both a quick rinse before loading them into the dishwasher. "I'm going to Jade's birthday lunch."
He makes a stank face before speaking. "You just spent last Saturday and half of Sunday with the girls."
"Am I not allowed out of the house two week-ends in a row?" you tease.
"I mean … yeah. I was just hoping to take a nap with you after my work-out."
You grin as he shifts gears from stank face to pouty face; he knows you can't resist his pout. "We can still do that," you soothe. "I'll be home around 2:30 or 3:00. That's a perfect time for a nap, don't you think?"
"I guess." He fidgets with his wristbands for a bit while heaving a sigh, eventually shooting you a loaded look from behind the fringe of his messy bangs. "Are there gonna be any male strippers at the birthday party?" he asks in a pitiful tone, poking his pouty bottom lip out even farther for maximum effect.
"No, you goober," you chuckle, walking around the island and stepping in between his spread thighs when he spins his barstool to face you. "Just like there weren't any male strippers at the bachelorette party last Saturday."
"Mmm-hmm," he grumps, trying and failing to look mad as you lean forward and press kisses all over his face.
"Don't 'mmm-hmm' me," you scold playfully. "You saw all the pics so you know the vibe was pretty tame."
"And yet you came home all horny."
You raise an eyebrow at him while shaking your head. "I came home horny because you kept telling me all the filthy things you were gonna do to me the second I walked in the door."
"And did I deliver?" he asks, his faux-mad expression quickly replaced by a cocky grin.
"You always deliver," you purr, pressing a kiss on his lips before heading for the stairs. "I gotta get going," you state, throwing him a smile over your shoulder before you jog up the stairs to get ready.
~ ~ ~
later that afternoon (2:40 pm)
You pull your car into the garage and quickly hop out and enter the house, dropping your bag on the entry table before walking into the kitchen. You set a bakery box filled with three red-velvet cupcakes on the kitchen island before continuing into the living room, making note of the empty sofa. "Maybe he's already napping," you mumble, a grin gracing your lips as you spin around and head for the stairs.
You hear the shower shut off just as you enter the master bedroom; you quickly slip your wedge heels off before walking to the partially-open bathroom door, peeking in just in time to see Joe step out of the shower and grab a towel. You watch him for a minute, your gaze following the path of the fluffy towel as he dries himself off, your pulse reacting to the sight of his tall, muscular body as you push the door open and walk in.
"Hey," he greets, giving you a smile before turning to face the mirror. "How was lunch?" he asks, leaning forward to study his reflection as he tries to finger comb his damp curls into submission.
"Good," you answer, your gaze zeroing in on his plump ass as he continues to fiddle with his hair. You reach for the hem of your sundress and pull it off over your head before quickly unhooking your bra, both items hitting the floor just as Joe meets your eyes in the mirror. "Looks like dessert is gonna be even better," you purr, closing the distance between you before pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.
He makes a sound of approval as you slowly run the tip of your tongue down to the small of his back, lingering there for a bit before heading farther south. You drop to your knees as you grab two handfuls of bare butt, pressing kisses against his warm skin as you knead the perfect globes. "Your ass is a work of art," you breathe, leaning down to nip the fleshy overhang where his left cheek meets his upper thigh. "You drove me crazy yesterday in those gray shorts."
"You mentioned that a few times," he chuckles, spreading his stance as you continue to nip and suck his smooth skin, really getting into it as he wiggles his hips and presses back against your mouth. He usually only lets you do butt stuff in the shower, but you like the vibes he's giving off so you decide to chance it. You trail hot kisses over to his crack before leaning in and fluttering your tongue over his hole. "Oh my God!" he gasps, letting out a high-pitched giggle/squeal combo that has you smiling as you move your mouth back to his left cheek. "Relax," you soothe. "We'll do that later in the shower if you like."
"Sounds good," he murmurs, groaning low in his throat as you continue to suck love bites into his supple skin. You eventually reach a hand between his legs to massage his balls, rolling and gently tugging the sensitive flesh before reaching a bit higher to tease his erection, ghosting your fingertips over it for a minute before gripping it tighter; he bucks his hips into your touch several times before gently removing your hand and slowly turning to face you, hissing in a breath as you lean forward and lick the precum off of his tip.
"Are you wet for me?" he asks, his voice husky with arousal as you continue to tease him with your tongue.
"Soaking wet."
"Good," he states, reaching down to pick you up before striding into the bedroom; he sits you on the bed and slides your panties off before lying down beside you on his back, a cocky grin on his face as your gaze lands on his impressive erection. "Ride me," he orders, watching you closely as you straddle his hips. Chill bumps rise on your skin as you hover over him, his plump tip splitting you open just enough to make you whimper with anticipation.
"Hold on," he urges, wrapping his hands around your waist just before you sink down on him. You flutter your eyes closed, your pulse racing as your body prepares to be impaled on his thick cock. "Look at me," he commands," waiting until your eyes focus on his before speaking again. "Give me a taste," he purrs, licking his lips while flicking a glance down to your crotch, the look in his eyes when he meets your gaze again causing your core to contract.
You reach a hand down and slide two fingers through your slick folds a few times before bringing them up and rubbing your arousal over his lips; your eyes go wide when he grips your wrist and guides your fingers into his mouth, sucking them in as he maintains eye contact. The groan he lets out when he tastes you vibrates through your entire body as he uses his free hand to line his cock up with your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours as you slowly sink down on him.
He continues to suck your fingers as you take him deep, inch by inch, a shiver running through you at the feel of him stretching you open. Once he's fully seated, you lean down and reach forward, gripping the lowest slat on the headboard, the position pushing your breasts against his chest as you start to ride him. Your breath catches in your throat at the feel of his muscular chest brushing against your nipples as you move, the delicious sensation sending a sizzle of electricity straight to your clit and a rush of liquid heat into your core.
"I love how wet you get for me," he groans, wrapping his hands around your waist, his long fingers gripping you hard as he grinds you up and down on his erection, over and over, taking control of the pace as you hold on for the ride. Your sweaty palms slide against the headboard slat as you use it as leverage, your breath coming in quick little gulps and gasps as he pounds into you with a relentless rhythm.
'I need to slow down," he eventually grits out, slowing his thrusts until he finally stops while buried deep inside you. You take a minute to catch your breath before nuzzling your nose into his fragrant neck, pressing a kiss against the pulse throbbing there before kissing your way over to his mouth. He parts your lips with his tongue, groaning into your mouth when you open wide for him, his tongue stroking yours in a slow-burn kiss that makes your toes curl and your core contract.
He breaks the kiss and gives you a loaded look. "Did you just hit a Kegel on me?"
"No," you shake your head. "I mean … yeah … but not on purpose."
He raises an eyebrow at you, trying and failing to look stern as your core clamps down on him again. "I'm trying not to bust and you're hitting Kegels?"
"I can't help it," you whine, squirming against him as he tightens his grip on your waist to hold you still. "It's just my body reacting to how good you feel inside me."
"I know, baby, I'm just teasing," he admits, giving you a dirty grin as he runs his hands over you, rubbing your back, ass and thighs before sliding one hand between your bodies, his agile fingers teasing your clit as you start to move. "I can't stay still," you whimper, pulling most of the way off of him before slowly sliding back down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting as you take him all the way to the base. "Just like that," he urges, "slow and deep."
You sit up a bit and press your palms flat against his chest as you continue to ride him, a delicious coil of tension building inside you as he adds a little more pressure to your clit while using his free hand to play with your nipples. You lose yourself to the feel of him inside you, to the feel of his talented hands teasing you, his husky voice urging you to ride him faster as you chase your pleasure. "Yeah, baby, just like that," he groans, pinching your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to set you off, immediately thrusting up inside you as your climax hits.
You throw your head back as the searing pleasure rips through you, a breathless cry escaping your lips as your core pulsates around him, rhythmically squeezing him as he continues to fuck you through the orgasm; the sounds he makes heighten your pleasure as he follows you over the edge, your body pulling every last drop of cum out of him before you collapse against him.
The next several minutes are filled with heavy breathing as you both try to catch your breath, giggling a bit when you finally roll off of him and collapse on the bed.
"That was intense," you pant.
"Beyond intense," he mutters, pressing a kiss on your shoulder before easing off the bed and walking into the bathroom; he returns a minute later with a damp washcloth, gently cleaning you up before tossing the cloth back in the bathroom. He turns the ceiling fan on before crawling back into bed and pulling you close, your back to his chest.
"Nap time," he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your hair and taking a deep breath as you relax in his embrace.
~ ~ ~
Sunday, June 2, 2024 (the next morning)
You come awake slowly, stretching and yawning before turning your head to look at Joe. The bed beside you is empty, and you wonder where your man is for a sec before easing out of bed and shuffling into the bathroom, a grin spreading over your face when you see a note lying next to your sink. You pick it up and read it out loud.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty. I'm getting in a work-out at the facility. I'll be home early afternoon. Love you."
"Love you, too," you whisper, the grin never leaving your lips as you wash your face and head downstairs to make coffee.
~ ~ ~
Three hours later, you're adding a hefty pinch of red pepper flakes to a homemade bolognese sauce when your phone rings; you quickly wipe your hands off and check the display. "Hey babe," you greet.
"Hey," Joe answers. "Whatcha doing?"
"Making bolognese sauce for dinner tonight."
"Oh yum," he groans. "That's one of my absolute favs."
"I know," you giggle. "What's up? How was your work-out?"
"Good … except …"
"Except what?"
"Did you know you left a huge hickey on my left butt cheek?"
"Ummm, no?" you answer. "I mean, I guess I'm not surprised since I was all over it, but I didn't notice it last night, and you were gone this morning before I got up. Why do you ask?"
"It's just … a couple of the guys noticed it when I was changing in the locker room."
"Oh."
"I mean, it's no big deal. They just …"
"Just what?"
He sighs before answering. "They were teasing me a little bit. Like 'oh I didn't know y'all got down like that' kinda vibe."
"We're engaged to be married, babe," you giggle. "Pretty sure they know we have sex."
"True," he muses. "But one thing they said kinda stuck with me."
"What?"
"The main hickey is on my left butt cheek with a much smaller one on the right. So it's kind of out of balance."
"Well, we can't have that," you purr. "As soon as you get home, I'll even them out for you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you murmur. "This bolognese needs to simmer for a while before it's done."
"Be home in ten minutes," he chirps.
"Don't speed," you giggle, ending the call before placing a lid on your simmering sauce pot, turning the heat to low before heading upstairs.
-----------------------------
shoutout to @sofferaddict who gave me the booty hickey/locker room reveal inspo! 😘
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lil drabble of satoru n reader on a cute pottery class date because I haven't been able to stop thinking about them sobs gimme loverboy satoru pls pls (credit @neptuneblue for this sweet idea ilysm)
0.8k. sfw. set in the same universe as this frat boy gojo fic
You drove past the place weeks ago, nearly getting into an accident maneuvering through traffic to pull into the parking lot and furiously take down the info in the little sign on the window.
Now offering couples pottery classes!
It was perfect and that night you'd spent hours giggling on the old futon in Satorus room talking about going in next week to try a class together. It made your chest feel full and tight, like a million bufferflies were fluttering their wings around hearing him chatter excitedly to you about making the cutest bowl for you.
Just watch, mines gonna be the most adorable one!
You can hear it now in the back of your mind as you stare at your forlorn lover with wet clay splattered all over his hands and smeared in odd patches on his nose and cheeks and you try to hold in the building storm of giggles that threatens to burst like the snap of bubblegum popping.
"What's wrong, baby?" You ask, glancing between the thick, wobbly bowl sitting in front of him and those jewel toned eyes.
"Nothin',' he says and you bite your lip as the laughter threatens to spill over once more.
"It's not nothing, tell me what's up, please?" You implore, reaching across the table to grasp one of his hands, feeling the clay smearing against his and your skin.
His eyes look anywhere but at you for a moment, flicking around the studio before he heaves a particularly dramatic sigh and presses the back of your hand to his cheek.
"I was supposed to make the cutest one for you. Look at it, it's awful."
He sounds so morose you can't help the way you want to get up from the table and cradle his face in your hands, press him against your chest and smother him in affection.
What a big baby.
You can feel your eyes softening before you speak. "Toru you know anything you make me is adorable, right?"
"Aw, don't do the mom voice please baby I can't handle it."
That makes the flurry of giggles erupt, which only serves to deepen his pout and he lets go of your hand abruptly with a hmph before playfully looking away from you. That makes it even harder to catch your breath against the stream of laughter but eventually you do, rising to come around to his side of the table and placing a sweet kiss to his cheek that isn't marred by drying clay.
"I'm serious, I love everything you give me or make for me 'Toru. Because it's from you. But-" you cover his mouth with your hand before he can interrupt, ignoring his exaggerated sounds that threaten to derail your thoughts entirely, "what if we finished it together? Then they'd be like a matching set, like me and you."
You smile at him, removing your hand and for a moment you wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing because he looks so... dumbstruck. It only lasts for a second though, quickly replaced by that familiar, comforting smile.
"Yeah, just like me and you."
It's so soft you almost miss it over the din of others around you in the studio but you don't miss the way your heartbeat picks up, pounding against your ribs as he brushes your knuckles against his lips before turning his attention back to the clay in front of him.
You've never felt so gripped by the urge to tackle and kiss anyone like you do with Satoru.
#txt ☆ˎˊ˗#satoru fluff#satoru x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#gojo x reader#gojo x you#loverboy ☆ˎˊ˗
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As You Wish, Chapter 13
Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.
Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, drinking, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to pregnancy, swearing, references to the hospital, references to an accident
South Trail, Seresin Ranch, Clifton, Texas, Now
Charlie felt a chill run down her spine as their trail group walked steadily down the beaten dirt path. Dad was in the lead, as per usual, and Abby had beaten her in a game of rock, paper, scissors in order to come second. That left Charlie third, close enough to Savannah to hear every muttered complaint and snap of her camera as she took selfies.
“Jakey!!!” Savannah cried out as they emerged from the trees onto a lookout, the ledge watching over a field full of wildflowers. “We need to stop! I need photos of this for my followers!”
Charlie stifled a giggle as she saw her dad’s head slump forwards. This was the fifth time Savannah had whined about needed a photo opportunity since they had left the ranch, approximately five hours ago.
“Savannah, I—”
“This is the last one, I promise!” she squealed, clumsily pulling her horse to a stop and sliding down her side until her suede boots touched the ground. She practically threw her phone to Jake and went to stand on the edge of the cliff.
Jake grunted as he neatly dismounted and patted Firewall on the flank. “It has to be the last one or we won’t make it to the campground before nightfall.”
“Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever,” Savannah chirped as she struck pose after pose.
Charlie and Abby both dismounted and moved off the trail to stand in the shade of the trees.
“It would be mean to scare her and hope that she falls, right?” Charlie muttered under her breath.
“Charlie!” Abby let out a scandalized gasp. “She may be awful, but we can’t wish death upon her…though I would be lying if I said that the same thought hadn’t occurred to me as well.”
Charlie slumped against the tree, watching the horses drag their reins on the ground as they stood on the trail, waiting for their riders to be done. “She’s just…the worst.”
“I know. Why would Mum insist that she come with us instead?”
“She said that she wanted Savannah to have a chance to get to know us.”
Charlie smirked. “Alright then. Let’s let her get to know us. Then maybe she’ll wish she had never met us.”
“We’re not that awful,” Abby rolled her eyes.
“I know that, and you know that, but Savannah doesn’t know that. So, let’s make her think we’re the worst. Then she won’t want to marry Dad because it would mean having to spend time with us.”
Abby grinned, her eyes trained on a spot on the ground. “I think I know exactly how to start.”
Crouching to the ground, Abby scooped up a tiny chipmunk from where it was nestled in the roots of a tree.
“Hey buddy…” she whispered. “I bet you want to see what’s in our saddlebags.”
Charlie covered her mouth to muffle the sound of her giggles as they approached Angel.
“Do it now! Savannah’s got her back to us!”
Quiet as a mouse, Abby slid open the saddlebag and slipped the chipmunk inside. “And now we wait.”
Around noon, Buttercup wandered into the kitchen from the guest bedroom. She hadn’t been lying about having to work. Her deadline was rapidly approaching, and she had been struggling quite a bit with writer’s block, so she had taken advantage of the silence of the ranch house and the beauty of the view and spent the morning writing her heart out. Twenty pages later, and her groove had been interrupted by the grumble of her stomach. So, she saved her work and, slowly as to admire the pictures and paintings on the walls of her ex-husband’s home, she wandered out of her writing cave and into the kitchen, where she was faced with a sweaty Rooster.
“Oh…hey.”
He grunted at her as he dug through the fridge. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”
“Technically, I’m in your way, since this is your home so…don’t worry about it.” All she received in return was another grunt, and she sighed. “I know you’re mad at me. I know you were against our divorce since the beginning, I know you hated the custody arrangement, and I know you blame me for moving to a different continent, but Rooster…” she sniffled. “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of them for me, when I wasn’t here…when I wasn’t strong enough to do it myself.”
She watched as Rooster sighed, his head hanging between his shoulders before he slammed the fridge door shut and turned towards her.
“Listen, it isn’t your fault. You were sick. I remember my mom talking about how she got sick after havin’ me, and…and shit, Buttercup, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. And it didn’t help that we kept getting deployed. You were goin’ through it and none of us could see it. I know you fought like hell, and so does he. I just—”
“You know what its like to not have a dad around, so you wish things had been different for Abby. And you know what its like to not have a mom around, so you wish things had been different for Charlie. Right?”
He blinked at her. “Get your ass outta my head.”
She chuckled before the mood settled around them, still slightly somber.
“I should’ve been able to handle it,” she whispered, and Rooster sighed, leaning back against the fridge.
“Hangman should’ve been able to handle it too,” he shrugged. “I know I was pissed off at you for putting yourself first, and it wasn’t fair. I was more worried about how the divorce would affect the team dynamic, instead of worrying about how the divorce would affect you. But he screwed up too. He should’ve put you first, not the team. That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Buttercup blinked up at him and he shrugged. “I started going to therapy after a bar fight when Charlie was like 2. Court mandated, but it helped. I let a lot of shit go.”
“Good for you,” she smiled. “I am grateful that they had you and Javy to lean on, you know. I’m not just trying to get back on your good side.”
“I know,” he shrugged and turned his back to her. “What do you want for lunch? I could hear your stomach grumbling from my room.”
She grinned and sat at the counter. “I imagine asking you for a salad wouldn’t fly?”
He scoffed without turning his back. “We eat healthy in this house, but we don’t eat rabbit food. What do you really want for lunch?”
She giggled. “What about taco salad?”
He turned and pointed at her. “Now that’s a damn good idea.”
It couldn’t have gone better if they had trained the chipmunk themselves. They had remounted and strolled along the trail for another fifteen minutes before Savannah started pawing at the saddlebag, looking for her oversized, bright pink water bottle. She was able to pry open the clasp of the bag and stick her hand inside. And then it happened…
The chipmunk launched into action, racing up her arm before Savannah could even realize what was happening and landed on her shoulder. Savannah freaked out, screaming and shaking her arm to try to dislodge it. Sweet Angel picked up on her rider’s anxious movements and started trotting down the trail, shaking her head this way and that.
Charlie and Abby watched from the rear as the chipmunk disappeared under the hem of Savannah’s designer t-shirt, Savannah screaming as the rodent searched for an escape. Angel reared up and Savannah clung to her neck. Both girls turned their heads to hide their giggles as their dad scooped the reins out of Savannah’s hands and gently pulled Angel back to the ground, soothing her in a calm voice. The chipmunk finally found an escape through the arm of her flannel, and leapt from Angel’s back to a nearby tree.
“Oh my goodness, Savannah!” Abby called, urging her horse forward. “Are you alright?”
“That was crazy!” Charlie gasped, hiding her laughter behind her hand.
She glared suspiciously at them but said, “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Jake tied Angel’s reins to Firewall’s saddle and turned back to look at them. “We’re going to head to the campground now, okay, Charlie?”
Both girls gave him a thumbs up and he rolled his eyes. When he turned back to face forward, they leaned over and high-fived each other. Neither the chipmunk nor Angel had been hurt, but Savannah screams had been absolutely hilarious. Perhaps their dad suspected them (he knew enough about the great outdoors to know that a chipmunk wouldn’t just materialize inside a closed saddlebag), but perhaps their little prank had allowed their father to see a different side of Savannah.
Lunch with Rooster had been good. The taco salad he had whipped up had been absolutely delicious, the ground beef perfectly spiced, and the spinach base had been simple but brilliant. More than that though had been their conversation. He had filled her in on so much of Charlie’s life (and Jake’s life as well, since it was so tightly woven with Charlie’s). She had always known that Jake would be a brilliant father, but some of the stories that Rooster had shared with her had her torn between laughter and tears. The antics her husband and her youngest daughter had gotten up to were bittersweet to hear about. In her mind’s eye, she could see them happening. She could see Jake flying toddler Charlie over his head, could hear her phantom cries as he gathered her 8-year-old body in his arms and carried her to the car, her arm bent at a painful angle.
As she strolled along the gravel path towards the dude cabins, she could practically see the phantom figures of her family as they lived and grew here. Knowing she had missed so much of Charlie’s life here, she regretted her decision to stay behind on the trail ride, but she hoped that Savannah would be able to make a better impression on her daughters than she had made on her.
“Honestly…” she muttered as she approached Cabin 1, where her brother and Natasha were staying. “What kind of woman doesn’t want to write her own wedding vows?” She sighed and climbed up the few stairs to the porch. “And what kind of sadistic bullshit is it to ask your future husband’s ex-wife to write the vows for you?”
She shook off the question as she knocked on the door. It had obviously been some sort of territorial claim from Savannah, trying to show Buttercup that he was hers now, but Buttercup had no doubt about that. She’d hurt Jake too badly for things to ever go back to the simple, fun, and loving way it had been before.
Natasha threw open the door and groaned. “Thank god it’s you.”
She chuckled and entered the cozy, modern cabin. “Who did you think it was?”
Natasha rolled her eyes and collapsed onto the comfy leather couch. “Javy. He keeps trying to come and talk to me.” Her friend shuddered dramatically.
Buttercup considered her carefully as she lowered onto the other side of the couch. “What’s the deal with you two? I thought Jake was the one you hated.”
Nat sighed and buried the scarred side of her face in the couch. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Buttercup took the pillow from behind her and whacked her friend with it. “C’mon! You’re acting like he killed your dog or something!”
Nat snatched the pillow and tossed it back at her. “Why’re you being so pushy, bitch?”
“Because you and Javy have been at each other’s throats since we got here, and I had to kick you out of dinner last night before either of you said or did something inappropriate in front of my children. And I hated doing that.”
Natasha let out a low whine as she tried to bury herself deeper in the couch. “Sorry…I promise I won’t call him a self-important bastard in front of your children.”
Buttercup barked a laugh and cuddled down into her seat. “But why would you call him that? It’s so weird! I honestly thought you two were into each other back in the day.” Natasha shifted so that her back was towards her friend, and Buttercup read it all in the tense line of her back. “Oh my god, you were into him!”
“Shut up…” Natasha grumbled. “He was into me too.”
“Were you two hooking up?”
Natasha rolled to look at her again. “Yeah. For a couple of months. Whenever we were both at Top Gun.”
Buttercup squealed and crawled across the couch so that she was right next to Natasha. “I knew it!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Natasha grumbled, pushing her off.
“So, what happened? Bad breakup? You act like you want to kill him.”
Natasha groaned. “No, it wasn’t a bad breakup. It wasn’t a real relationship.”
“Did he want it to be?”
Natasha buried her head in the pillow. “Yeah…he wanted to make it official after that last deployment. We fought about it a lot. I didn’t want to risk it because…” Natasha paused and looked guiltily over at her.
“Because?” Buttercup prompted gently, having a sneaking suspicion that she knew where this was going.
“Because I saw how messed up you were after the divorce,” Natasha admitted. “Our jobs are–were–risky enough without being in a relationship. And if our relationship fell apart the way yours and Jake’s did?” She sighed. “I told him no, but he wouldn’t let it go. Then there was the crash, and he came to visit me in the hospital and…” Natasha’s fingers clenched into fists. “He told me he would ‘take care of me’. That he felt like it was time to retire and that he would stay with me and that it would all be okay.”
“And that’s…bad?” Buttercup leaned back, confused. “He cared and wanted to help you? Why is that a bad thing?”
Natasha shuddered. “I couldn’t stand him looking at me with all that pity. And besides, why did he retire? He had the best job in the whole damn world and he willingly gave it up? Are you kidding me? They all gave it up! I mean, okay, Bob makes sense because he wanted to help you but why the hell would the rest of them give it up? Fucking idiots.”
Buttercup bit her lip. A decade of living with the other woman told her that trying to talk to Natasha when she was this fired up would be like trying to draw blood from a stone. So instead, she said, “Where is Bob, anyway?”
Natasha shrugged. “He got a phone call and went for a walk.”
“What is up with him and these phone calls?” Buttercup mused as she folded her legs beneath her.
“No clue. But what is with you deciding to stay back and let Cowgirl Barbie go on the trail ride with your girls and your man?”
Buttercup grumbled at her. “He’s not my man, and you know it.”
“Does he know that?”
Buttercup rolled her eyes. “Of course he does! He’s marrying Savannah, remember?”
Nat rolled her eyes and rolled off the couch before padding into the kitchen. “Of course I remember. That’s why I’m going to get wine. We’re going to need it.”
By the time they reached the campground, Abby was half convinced that Savannah had never been on a horse before. Even though she kept telling stories about her championship barrel racer back on her own ranch, poor Angel kept tossing her head at the confusing signals that her rider kept giving her. Charlie was fully confused. She’d done barrel racing before and the way Savannah was describing it, she knew she had never done it in her life. Her stories about shopping, drinking wine, and winning Miss Texas however, Charlie completely believed. No one could sound so excited about boring adult things if they hadn’t actually done them.
Luckily, they wouldn’t have to share a tent with her. That had been a stipulation of her joining them. Her own tent. Not even shared with their father, just her. Luckily, Jake had packed a hammock that he had already strung up between two sturdy trees for himself, leaving the other tent for his daughters.
All three Seresin’s watched Savannah as she primped in front of her cellphone camera, taking selfies of herself near the lake they were camping by. Jake shook his head with a sigh as he finished setting up her tent and stretched.
“What do we think about a dip in the lake before dinner?” he asked the girls, a wild grin on his face.
Both nodded eagerly and bolted into their tent to pull their swimsuits on.
“Did you bring it?” Charlie whispered, and Abby nodded, pulling out a packet from her backpack.
“Uncle Roo gave it to me and I tucked it away for safe keeping,” Abby replied. “You distract Dad, and I’ll make sure it reaches our target.”
“Deal.”
Both girls quickly changed and headed out of the tent.
“Dad!” Charlie called. Jake turned from where he was talking to Savannah, his hands soothingly rubbing her shoulders as she scowled at him. “Can you help me put sun block on my shoulders? Mom would kill me if I came back burned.”
Jake grinned. “She’d kill me first,” he called back, turning from Savannah and strolling over to Charlie.
Jake sufficiently distracted, Abby snuck into Savannah’s tent and ripped open her packet. She sprinkled the contents everywhere. In her sleeping bag, in her clothes, on her hairbrush, in her shoes, and definitely on the inside of her hat.
With a wicked grin, Abby crumpled up the evidence and crept back to her tent to hide it in her backpack. She emerged just in time for Jake to finish lathering her sister with sun block, the two of them turning to her.
“My turn?” she smiled at him sweetly.
“Yeah, baby, c’mere.”
Charlie turned to Savannah, who was still trying to find the just right angle for her selfie. “Will you be joining us in the water, Savannah?”
The petite blond couldn’t hide her sneer. “I think I’ll pass, sugar, but thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” Charlie shrugged. “You might want to get changed then. It’s going to start cooling off soon.”
Savannah smiled, the pull of her lips a touch too saccharine to be sincere, and said, “Thanks, honey. I’ll do that.”
As Savannah strutted into her tent, Jake joined his daughters and mussed their hair. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”
He took off running, his long legs eating up the ground as his daughters squealed and sprinted after him.
By the time they emerged from the chilly water, the sun was hanging low in the Texan sky and the air had adopted a slight nip that spoke of the coming autumn. Charlie and Abby raced to get dressed in their flannel pyjamas and their thick socks. As they pulled on their matching PJs, they heard Savannah whine and swapped grins.
“I HATE THE OUTDOORS!” she shrieked. “Everything hurts, I have bruises everywhere, my hair is so frizzy, and I must’ve been bitten a thousand times because I can’t. Stop. ITCHING!”
The girls could practically hear the frustrated look on their father’s face as he faced her. “I thought you said you’d been camping before?” he asked, his voice cool under pressure.
Savannah scoffed. “Yeah, in a cabin like civilized human beings. You know, electricity and indoor plumbing? And we never rode to the cabin! We drove there.”
“Who took care of that prize winning mare of yours while you were gone?”
“The staff, as usual,” she replied as though she were talking to a small child. “They do everything for her.”
The twins could feel the rising tension even from inside the shelter of their tent. “Even ride her?”
“Duh,” Savannah giggled. “Daddy paid top dollar for her because I wanted to try barrel racing, but I hate riding, so now she just has babies that we sell. Daddy lets me keep the profit since she’s mine and all. Two of her babies paid for my month-long trip to Paris.”
Jake huffed a sigh. “And you didn’t tell me this because?”
“What does it matter?” she replied coyly, a branch cracking under her foot as she moved closer to him. “We have loads of other things in common, sugar.”
Charlie rolled her eyes at Abby before leaping out of their tent. “Dad! We’re starving! Can we get the fire going so we can eat?”
Jake nodded, his eyes still fixed on Savannah. “You two go collect some firewood, and I’ll get everything ready.”
“Savannah, you want to come?” Abby called sweetly.
Savannah grumbled, her hands scrabbling against her chest and stomach. “Why am I so damn itchy!” she shouted, stomping her foot.
Jake huffed and turned to her. “You’re probably having an allergic reaction to something. Go wash off in the lake while the girls are gone. Take the calamine lotion from in my bag and make sure you cover all your itchy areas. I’ll get you some of my clothes to wear.”
“An allergic reaction to what?” she seethed, glaring at the twins as though she knew it was their fault.
“I think Uncle Rooster might have changed our laundry detergent,” Charlie supplied, grinning at her. “Maybe that’s it.”
“Maybe…” Savannah snarled before stalking off, the sound of her complaining drowning out the twin’s peals of laughter.
Savannah complained that the hot dogs and smores they were eating weren’t on her diet plan for the wedding, but Jake promptly shut it all down by telling her they were her only choice. Grumpy and painted pink from the calamine lotion, she slowly munched on a hot dog, grimacing with every bite.
“Dad?”
Jake grinned at Abby and nodded. “What’s up, kiddo?”
“I know you’re supposed to tell us stories around the campfire…” Jake’s confirming nod gave her the courage to finish. “Could you tell us how you proposed to Mom?”
Savannah’s eyes went wide, and she looked as if she was about to complain again, but Jake cut her a look and she quieted.
“Sure, darlin’. If that’s what you want to hear…” Jake grunted as he settled himself further into his chair, his daughters watching him from a log across the crackling fire. “Let’s see…”
The San Diego Zoo, almost 13 years ago
Jake’s palms were sweating, which was saying something. He was the only pilot of his generation who had not one, but two air to air confirmed kills under his belt. He was ice cold under pressure. Nothing made him flinch. But strolling amongst the different animal exhibits with Buttercup had his hands damp and gross, no matter how many times he wiped them on his jeans.
She was pregnant. Pregnant. With his kid. His twins. This girl that he had known for all of what? Three months? Was having his children. His Buttercup was carrying two baby Seresins, and she wasn’t shrinking from the task either. In the last month since that fateful doctor’s appointment, she had dutifully taken her vitamins and avoided all alcohol, changed up her diet, started exercising more, and all in spite of the fact that she ended up on her knees in front of his toilet every damn morning. But she hadn’t complained. Not once.
My god, how he loved her. Her spark, her sass, that fire in her eyes that challenged him in all the right ways. She was brilliant. She was perfect. And he had to make sure she didn’t wise up and take off on him. Not that he thought she would. They’d exchanged their I Love Yous within the first six weeks of dating, and he knew they rang true, could feel it in every action she took. He wanted that. No, he needed that love every single damn day until the day he died.
“Giraffes are this way, darlin’,” he chuckled as he gently tugged her arm down the correct path.
Buttercup squealed and swung their hands between them. “I freaking love giraffes!”
He shook his head playfully. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“What?” she pouted. “My boyfriend takes me to the zoo to meet the giraffes and I’m not allowed to be excited about it?”
“No, you are,” he smiled, letting go of her hand in exchange for wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s cute.”
“You said it was weird,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, but a good weird. I love your weird.”
“I love your weird too.”
He blinked. “I’m not weird.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re the only person I know who can name every type of military jet. In order of the year they were made.”
“Lots of pilots can do that,” he blushed.
“No they can’t, and you know it.”
“Fine, whatever,” he teased. “The giraffes are here, you weirdo.”
She squealed again and tugged him along to the meeting area, where the tour guide was waiting for them.
The whole tour of the giraffe enclosure, Jake kept a close eye on Buttercup, who was drinking in all the information, and a close eye on his pocket, where the delicate emerald ring was hidden in a velvet box.
He’d had it for over a month. Funnily enough, he had bought it three days before the doctor’s appointment that had changed their lives forever. He hadn’t asked her yet because he didn’t want her to think it was just because he’d knocked her up. But he couldn’t wait much longer. The rumor mill was churning and whispers that members of Dagger Squad were going to be deployed had spread far and wide. He was one of the few members who hadn’t deployed in a while, so he knew it was likely that his number would be up, and he wanted a ring on her finger before he left.
Finally, the tour guide led them up close to the giraffes, who were milling about the wide paddock.
“I’m going to fill their food buckets so that they’ll come closer, and you can say hi, okay?” she grinned at him and, when Buttercup was distracted, shot him a quick thumbs up. She’d done an amazing job at acting like nothing suspicious was going on, and Jake knew that he owed her one hell of a tip.
Buttercup squealed softly as the giraffes came close, and Jake peeked over his shoulder to see the zoo’s cameraman ready at the fence.
“Buttercup?” she hummed in response. “Darlin’, I know we haven’t known each other for very long, and I know I’m not the easiest man to get along with.” She hummed again, completely entranced by the gentle giant that stood in front of her. “Despite all that, I know that I love you. More than any man has ever loved another. You, me, and our babies are gonna be a family, and I would love for us all to share the same name.”
At that, Buttercup turned, her eyes filling with tears as she saw Jake on bended knee in front of her. “Jake…”
He grinned. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”
She sniffled and smiled, brighter than the force of a thousand suns. “Yes. Jake, yes. Of course, I will!” She flung her arms around his neck and cried.
As Charlie listened to the story, her tear-filled eyes watched Savannah stomp away to her tent in a huff.
Morning broke, and with it, so did the silence.
Savannah shrieked and, based on the racket she was making, her tent was probably about to fall down too, if it hadn’t already.
Abby and Charlie shared a startled look and bolted from their tent. They hadn’t done anything. They figured having to listen to a romantic zoo proposal story had been enough torture for one night. But there Savannah was, screaming and shoving at her tent, which had seemingly collapsed on her.
“What the hell is going on here?” Jake shouted, his boots hitting the ground as he took in the sight. “Savannah, what is wrong with you?”
“They did this!” she screamed, a pink painted nail stabbing at Abby and Charlie. “I know they did!”
“Savannah—”
“No!” she shouted, whirling on him. “I know they put that chipmunk in my saddle bag. I know they put something itchy in my clothes. And I know that they made my tent fall down on top of me!”
Abby turned to her father. “We didn’t make the tent fall, Dad. I swear!”
“You see!” Savannah shrieked. “The little demon admits it!”
“Watch it!” Jake growled, stepping in front of Abby.
Charlie bent to look at the ground in front of Savannah’s collapsed tent. “There’s hoofprints here, Dad.” She followed the tracks over to where Angel stood, her reins dragging on the ground. A thin black fiber hung out of her mouth. The exact same colour as Savannah’s tent.
“You expect me to believe that a horse collapsed my tent?” Savannah seethed.
“It looks to be that way,” Jake replied icily. “Now, you owe my girls an apology.”
“An apology?” she laughed coldly. “You heard the little brat. She only denied collapsing my tent, which means she did the other things!” Savannah sneered at her. “I know you’re the British one. I can tell a fake accent a mile away. And let me tell you this. You showing up here was the worst day of my life. I never wanted to be a stepmother! I thought maybe I could handle one kid until I could convince you to send her to boarding school, but two? No one in their right mind would want to be a stepmother to two little brats!”
Jake stepped smoothly in between them, both Abby and Charlie huddled behind him as he faced his fiancée. “Who says I would’ve sent them to boarding school? They’re my girls.”
“I am your girl!” she shrieked. “ME! M.E.! And if you want to marry me, then you have to choose! Because I’m not playing second fiddle to two little she devils anymore! Got it?”
“Then…” Jake chuckled. “I choose them.”
“Excuse me?”
“T.H.E.M? Them. I choose my girls. Got it?”
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#jake seresin x reader#glen powell#as you wish fic#jake seresin#top gun maverick#parent trap au#top gun fanfiction#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman fic
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Can u do a Jenna x Male reader that’s is not famous and is like a stay at home boyfriend that helps Jenna destress everytime she gets home. And Jenna decides she finally wants to reveal who she’s dating?
art.
Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader
Warning/s ; none
Jenna Ortega walked into her home, the exhaustion of another long day on set weighing heavily on her shoulders. As she closed the door behind her, she could already smell the comforting aroma of dinner cooking, and it brought a smile to her face. She knew that Y/N, her stay-at-home boyfriend, had once again prepared something special to help her unwind.
“Hey, babe,” Y/N called from the kitchen, turning to greet her with a warm smile. “How was your day?”
“Exhausting, as always,” Jenna replied, dropping her bag and walking over to him. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her head against his back. “But it’s so much better now that I’m home.”
Y/N turned around to hug her properly, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’ve made your favorite pasta. Go freshen up, and dinner will be ready.”
Jenna smiled gratefully and headed upstairs to change out of her work clothes and wash away the day’s stress. When she returned, they sat down to a delicious meal, Y/N’s cooking always managing to lift her spirits.
As they ate, Jenna recounted the highlights and lowlights of her day, Y/N listening attentively and offering words of encouragement. It was a routine they had developed, a way for Jenna to decompress and for them to connect after long hours apart. The simple act of sharing a meal and talking about their days helped Jenna feel grounded and loved.
After dinner, they settled on the couch, Jenna snuggling into Y/N’s side. He wrapped an arm around her, his presence soothing and comforting. They spent the evening talking and laughing, Jenna’s worries melting away with every passing moment. They watched a few episodes of their favorite show, but Jenna could hardly pay attention to the screen; she was too busy basking in the warmth and security of Y/N’s embrace.
The next morning, they decided to spend Jenna’s rare day off at the city’s renowned art museum, one of their favorite places to visit. As they walked through the quiet halls, admiring the beautiful works of art, Jenna felt a sense of peace and contentment. She knew she was incredibly lucky to have someone like Y/N by her side, someone who supported her and helped her find balance in her hectic life.
At one point, they stopped in front of a particularly striking painting. Jenna pulled out her phone and turned to Y/N. “Let’s take a picture together.”
Y/N smiled and leaned in close as Jenna snapped a selfie of the two of them, their faces glowing with happiness. Jenna looked at the photo and felt a sudden urge to share this moment with the world. She had been thinking about it for a while, and now, surrounded by beauty and with Y/N by her side, it felt like the right time.
“Y/N,” she began, her voice soft but determined. “I think I’m ready.”
Y/N looked at her, surprised but supportive. “Ready for what?”
“To share us with the world,” she replied. “I want people to know how much you mean to me.”
Y/N squeezed her hand. “If you’re sure, then I’m with you all the way.”
With a deep breath, Jenna opened her Instagram app and selected the photo they had just taken.
@jennaortega posted a photo!
liked by username and 2,129,710 others
jennaortega A perfect day with my favorite person. i love you. 💗
She hit “post,” and almost immediately, her phone began buzzing with notifications. They continued their tour of the museum, periodically checking their phones to see the reactions. The response was overwhelmingly positive, with fans and friends expressing their love and support.
As they moved to another exhibit, Jenna’s phone buzzed with a message from her sister, Aliyah.
Aliyah: Finally! You two are adorable! So happy for you both! Can’t wait to double date soon!
Jenna laughed and showed the message to Y/N. “Looks like we’ve got plans to make.”
He grinned. “Sounds like fun.”
They spent hours exploring the museum, losing themselves in the art and each other’s company. They stopped frequently to take more pictures, capturing candid moments of laughter and joy. Jenna felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for these simple, precious moments with Y/N.
That evening, back at home, they curled up on the couch, scrolling through the positive comments and messages. Jenna’s phone buzzed again, this time with a call from her mom.
“Hey, Mom,” Jenna answered.
“Hi, sweetie! I saw your post. He seems like a wonderful guy. I can’t wait to meet him properly,” her mom said warmly.
“You’ll love him, Mom. He’s amazing,” Jenna replied, glancing over at Y/N with a smile.
After hanging up, Jenna turned to Y/N. “Ready for the family meet-and-greet?”
Y/N chuckled. “Absolutely. Bring it on.”
As they continued to read through the messages, one from her co-star, Emma caught her eye.
Emma ❤️🔥: I knew something was up! You two look so happy together. Congrats!
Jenna showed Y/N the message, and they both laughed. “Looks like we weren’t as subtle as we thought,” Y/N said with a grin.
Jenna snuggled closer to him, feeling a profound sense of contentment. They had taken a big step today, and it had brought them even closer together. No matter what opposition lay ahead, they knew they could face them together.
“Thank you for being patient with me,” Jenna said softly.
Y/N kissed her forehead. “Thank you for letting me be a part of your world.”
Over the next few weeks, Jenna and Y/N’s relationship continued to blossom. They navigated the new dynamic of being public with ease, their bond only growing stronger. Y/N became a fixture in Jenna’s world, attending events with her, supporting her through her busy schedule, and continuing to be her safe haven.
The response from fans and the public remained positive, with many praising Jenna for being open and honest about her relationship. It was a new chapter in their lives, one filled with love, laughter, and the promise of many more adventures together.
One evening, as they sat on the balcony, watching the sunset, Jenna turned to Y/N with a smile. “I’m so glad we did this.”
“Me too,” Y/N replied, taking her hand. “Here’s to many more perfect days together.”
They clinked their glasses in a toast, the future looking brighter than ever. Together, they had faced their fears and taken a leap of faith, and it had paid off in the most beautiful way possible. Their love was now out in the open, embraced by the people who mattered most, and they couldn’t be happier.
#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x y/n#jenna ortega x you#jenna ortega x male reader#jenna ortega imagine#jenna ortega fanfic#jenna ortega x reader#dailywomen#imagine#fanfic#one shot
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a Klaus fic with this gem from Ozark “look, I know I kissed you last night but I thought I was gonna fucking die”. Change to fit however you want 😘
the last thing i'd do | klaus mikaelson
author's note; whoever sent this im so sorry it's been in my inbox for seven months
warnings; hybrid!reader, mentions of violence, violence against reader, themes of death, klaus gets crazy :), then there's fluff, a bit of angst still sprinkled in, but there's a happy ending
It's a blood bath, is the thing.
She can't tell what blood is hers anymore, and the ache in her body has done nothing but grow steadily over the past ten minutes. It feels like it's been hours since it all started.
She doesn't remember who threw the first punch, just knows that someone had come at her and she had no choice but to fight back, fight for her life.
There's blood under her nails, and she thinks maybe some in her eyes because they're burning, but it might be the tears shining in them.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Klaus had, for once, been hoping for peace. He was always braced for a fight, but he'd truly been hoping for a painless, quick negotiation.
Of course, it's turned into the worst fight they've had in a while.
She's always been on Klaus's side of things; fights, family, life. She's always had her place here, carved out by none other than the Original Hybrid himself. She's never understood just what he saw in her that earned her this place, but she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
Some– most– call her loyalty a form of naivety. Perhaps the sire bond still lingering, despite the fact that she'd broken it years ago. His siblings call it blindness, or ignorance, in their harsher moments. Her friends, the few that happen to be immortal, too, think she's reckless and just asking for him to kill her. Klaus Mikaelson turns on everybody, eventually, they say. The paranoid, hybrid king trusts nothing and no one. He killed his parents, multiple times, and he's kept his siblings in and out of coffins for most of their immortal lives. Why would he ever enjoy the company of one of his sires?
She's never thought he was perfect. That's something people always get wrong. They think she sees no flaws in him, when really she sees them all for what they are, she sees him for who he really is. She still loves him.
Some days she thinks he knows how she feels for him. Sometimes she can't keep it out of her eyes, and he'll catch her looking at him and his eyes will narrow slightly, like he's warning her to contain it.
Other days, she thinks there's no way he knows, because if he knew the capacity of her adoration, he'd surely have to say something. Tell her to move on. Compel the feelings away, possibly. If he were that cruel to her.
She doesn't think he would be. Since that first day he found her in the woods with what was left of her pack, they'd all watched him in fear. Some confused. Angry. But she was mystified. Enraptured by him and the power that radiated off of him.
She spent a long time feeling weak when she was younger. Even after she triggered the curse. But when Klaus told her she could become immortal, be strong, be at his side, she was the first to accept. The only one in her pack to ask him to turn her.
He'd set his eyes on her, something unidentifiably dark gleaming in his blue eyes, and when she latched onto his wrist to drink his blood, he hadn't looked away from her.
When he cupped her cheeks, he'd brushed his thumbs along the curve of her cheekbones and told her he'd make it quick and painless for her, and when she opened her eyes, he'd be there.
He'd kept his word, then. And he'd kept it ever since.
This, though. He'd given her his word, knowing her hesitance to fight, knowing that unless it was life or death, she'd rather avoid conflict. He promised her there would be no bloodshed here today.
It's not his fault, this time. She needs to tell him that. She needs to be at his side to make sure they're still fighting together, like they have for so long, yet so little time.
She throws a vampire off of her, with nothing but his heart in her palm and she quickly drops it to the ground at her feet. Turning, she pushes through the chaos, trying to cross the room to where she last saw him.
"Klaus!"
Her voice echoes over the mess and she sees him turn in the direction of it, and the fire in his blue eyes has her stopping.
He has blood smeared around his mouth and chin and she knows he's torn out more throats than he can count. The numbers are dwindling on both sides, barely anyone left standing, and she goes to close the space between them when a blinding pain stops her in her tracks.
Her choked off grunt is nearly silent amidst the yelling, but to Klaus it's like a gunshot.
He watches the point of the stake stab through her chest and feels his breath stall in his chest, fingers going numb all the way to the tips.
Her hand comes up, trembling as she skims her fingers over the blood blooming on her shirt around the stake. When she looks back up at Klaus, she tries to say his name but it's suffocated by the blood bubbling up in her throat.
Her knees give out from under her and she hears his hoarse voice yell her name as she goes down.
She can't see it, but she feels the pain that refreshes when he rips the stake from her back and throws it into the heart of the vampire that had attacked her.
She can't see it through the blur of her tears, but the sounds of retreat echo in her ears around the waves crashing.
When Klaus speaks again, his voice is closer and she blinks blearily, finding him hovering above her with wide eyes, looking uncharacteristically scared.
Her brows furrow when she sees the look on his face and when his fingers brush hers, she's quick to intertwine them with hers.
He whispers her name, the sound broken with emotion, and she squeezes his hand unconsciously.
"You're alright," He tries, valiantly ignoring the graying color of her skin despite the fact that he got the stake out of her. "You're alright, love. The pain will go away in a minute,"
She frowns, shaking her head against where he has it cupped with the hand that she's not holding. "Doesn't hurt," She whispers, swallowing roughly around the copper in her mouth.
"What?"
She repeats herself. "Doesn't hurt. Can't feel anything,"
Klaus makes a noise that she thinks might be grief. "No, no, it's alright. Here," He rips his hand from hers and his fangs tear into his skin, and he shoves his wrist against her mouth, letting as much blood drip into her mouth as he can before he heals.
She swallows it dutifully, but that numbness doesn't quite go away, and she wonders why he's so worried about it.
"Sit up," He commands her, though his voice is nowhere near as firm as it can get. "Sit up, and I'll help you the rest of the way. We'll go home, and you can rest."
"Klaus," She says his name, smiling around the syllables. "Come here."
He leans down at her request, eyes fluttering shut on a shaky breath when she lifts a blood-smeared hand up to his cheek. He whispers her name and her smile gives way to bloody teeth.
She uses what strength she can to lean up and kiss him, the pads of her fingers pressing into his pale cheek when he inhales sharply but presses back instantly, deepening the kiss.
She lingers as long as she can until she has to pull away, gasping for a full breath that she can't quite reach.
Still, a smile sits on her lips and when she meets Klaus's worried gaze, she doesn't falter. "Thank you,"
Confusion flutters on his face for a moment, but he jostles her when she starts to go limp in his arms, hand falling from his face. "No," He pulls her weight up, lifting her against his chest as her eyes flutter shut. "No. Wake up. Wake up!"
Silence follows his demands, his pleas, and through the blood on her cheek, a single tear falls from his eye, cleaning as it slides down her skin and falls into nothing.
Despite the silence surrounding him, he feels deafened.
──────
When she opens her eyes again, she can feel her body again in a way she couldn't before. Luckily, she can't feel any pain.
Her eyes go down to her chest where she knows a gaping wound had been, but there's nothing left, not even a scar its wake and she takes a deep breath, relieved that it's not followed by a throttle of blood coming up her throat.
"You're awake,"
The voice startles her, but she isn't scared when she turns her head against the pillow to look at Klaus. A frown sprouts on her face when she sees him sitting in a chair at her side, looking like he hasn't slept in days. It's not always necessary, but they have to take breaks sometimes, and she hasn't seen Klaus look this tired in a long time.
"I am," She says, swallowing a mouthful of spit in an attempt to wet her throat. "I don't think I should be, though."
"I owe many people a great deal of things, so you'd better stay that way."
His voice is dark and she can hear the anger in it, but she's not used to it being focused on her. "You didn't–"
"Do not," He cuts her off, his words nearly a growl that has her eyes widening. "Do not tell me that I shouldn't have saved you."
He leans forward, grabbing her hand in his, and she shrinks with embarrassment when she remembers how she'd touched his cheek and kissed him.
"Klaus," She squeezes her eyes shut, huffing her humiliation out. "I am– so sorry that I–"
"Don't," He cuts her off again, hand pressing pointedly against hers. "Don't apologize if you don't mean it."
She falls silent for a moment, lost as she looks at him. "I just... I thought I was going to die. And I just– I had to have it at least once."
He visibly swallows and she watches that pretty shine light up his eyes again. "You thought you were dying, and the last thing you wanted to do was kiss me?"
She nods despite the toe-curling embarrassment coursing through her.
He cuts a sharp breath out of his nose, shaking his head.
Before she realizes it, he's hovering above her, cupping her cheeks gently. "Silly little thing," He quietly scolds her, not giving her time to argue before he kisses her, ever so softly, softer than she ever thought he could be. Like she'll break beneath his touch if he doesn't treat her like glass.
When he pulls away and she forces her eyes open, she finds herself fighting off a tingling sensation from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. "What'd you do that for?"
He smiles, small and fond. "The next time you kiss me, you don't have to be dying to do it."
"Oh,"
"Don't ever do that to me again," His voice has a warning in it, but she's already smiling too hard to pay attention to it. "You know how I feel about people disobeying my orders."
Her grin is audible when she responds. "Yeah, I do."
#klaus mikaelson#elijah mikaelson#the vampire diaries#the vampire diaries fanfiction#rebekah mikaelson#kol mikaelson#the originals#klaus mikealson x reader#klaus mikaleson imagine#klaus mikaelson one shot#klaus mikaelson angst#klaus mikaelson fluff#klaus mikaelson fanfiction
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