#LIKE WHERE THE FUCK DID THEY COME FROM???
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Okay I have a story.
So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)
During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.
She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!
I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.
I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.
My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.
No. Me and Cat Pole.
It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.
Um.
Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.
Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.
Great.
Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."
I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.
After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.
I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"
My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.
This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.
I take a picture. I text her.
Okay.
I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.
I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.
My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.
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note: im actually proud of this one. i really like it
you've been needy all day. whinging and whining when rafe's attention isn't 100% on you, disturbing his precious work time. you've been teasing him, leaving sloppy kisses on his lip or down the side of his neck and hands wondering too far south. his only response to your frisky touches were harsh "cut that shit out", "don't fucking embarrass me" and "fucking behave." your behaviour got even worse though, going from wandering hands to outright grabbing his cock and moaning in his ears in front of his clients.
"i been tryin’ real hard not to lose my fucking patience with you. okay?" he's mad but you look up at him coyly as if you never did anything. "get in the car. now." you don't dare disobey him, not when he's being so assertive and not after the way you were acting.
—
it's so dirty, the way he's fully clothed in a suit and you've been stripped bare, not a single article of clothing left on you. "this what y'been wantin', huh?" his teeth are gritted and his fingers are moving inside of you, fast. "so fucking needy f'me" the only thing leaving your lips are whimpers and moans. he slaps your cunt at the lack of an answer, watching the way you mewl and writhe.
He keeps his fingers pumping inside of you as he brings his mouth to your clit. "such a slut f'me, yeah?" and then his mouth is on you sucking and licking. he occasionally nips at the bud with his teeth, the action causing you to arch your back off the bed, stilling your hips with a firm grip.
"y'bout to cum, baby?" the condescending tone drips from his lips and you let a desperate "uh huh" slip from yours. he feels your walls pulsing around his fingers and just as your about to cum, he pulls away.
"rafe" you whine out, so high pitched he just chuckles and brings his digits covered in your arousal to his mouth. he hums in satisfaction while you let out a breathy moan.
he's upright on his knees, legs now between yours and spreads them wider. rafe unzips his slacks and lowers it and his boxers enough for his cock to slip out. he leans down his hand next to your head, nails scraping the nape of his neck as he grips the base of cock tapping the head on your clit. your hands wrap around his neck and you let out a soft moan next to his ear. rafe starts moving his hand up and down his shaft, the tip constantly hitting your clit.
"more" you let out a drawn out moan and rafe leans back, pulling his cock away from your cunt. he strokes himself faster and his pants and grunts get louder. he leans down again, swiping his tip through your slit, still pumping himself, looking down at where you're both touching.
you wrap your legs around his hips and start bucking your hips up to try and get him where you need him most and rafe's eyes flit to yours. his movements stop. "y'move, i stop." you know he's serious so you restrain your movements as best you can and he continues.
he's sliding against your folds fast and messy, whining when his tip gets snagged in your hole. "oh, fuck" he whines out loud. "feels s'fucking good." he lets out such a deep guttural, you think you could have come. your squirming so much, eager to come, but you don't want him to stop.
he decides to continue teasing the both of you, pushing the head of his cock in an inch and sliding back out again. he speeds up, doing the action a couples more times, your pussy getting wetter and squelching louder. "pussy's s'fuckin' wet." he alternates between pushing in and sliding against your folds.
his mouth his hanging open as he speeds up his movements, still panting and whimpering. he moves the tip of his cock back towards your clit and starts bucking his hips, his hand still stroking his shaft. you're both whimper together.
His moans begin getting louder and just as you're about to cum he pulls away and spills his seed over your pussy. He slows down his movements and you both watch his cum dribble down your folds to your crack and onto the sheets beneath you.
"I was about to come." you whisper, desperate for release. He reaches to the bedside table and grabs a tissue cleaning himself up, before tucking himself back in his pants and zipping up.
"s'what y'get f'bein' a brat." rafe chuckles as he watches your face fall, knowing you weren't allowed to get off without him. He walks out the door throwing the tissue out on the way to finish his business while it dawns on you that you weren't coming until he was done.
#rafe cameron smut#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron outer banks
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Out of Order
Hockey!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader
Summary: You're running late from practice and the women's showers are out of order. In your haste to make it to class, you utilize the men's locker room while they're on the ice, only to find out that their practice has been cut short as well...
Warnings: Smut (oral, m receiving). Steamy (haha, get it?).
Word Count: 3003
Notes: This would prob never happen but it’s my world and you’re all living in it 😏
Belongs to the Shut Out & Penance world
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“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, staring at the sign hanging over the showers in the women’s locker room. It reads Closed for Maintenance. You’ve completely forgotten that the showers weren’t going to be in working order this week. You hadn’t been paying too close attention when your figure skating coach told you about it before the weekend hit, still too stunned thinking about Azriel when you’d run into him on your way to where all the coaches’ offices are housed.
It hasn’t been a great start to the week. Your alarm went off late, you spilled the horrible coffee you’d managed to make whilst brushing your teeth—no harm there—and you split your leggings after a tumble on the ice. Now, you’re going to be doubly late for class because Coach Vanserra had wanted to talk to you about your routine after practice.
And now this.
Clicking your phone on, you check the time. Yup. You only have fifteen minutes to make your way across campus to class, and you’ve only just stopped sweating from the vigorous run-throughs of the jump you fell on during practice this morning. Anything to get the routine perfect, even if it did mean receiving a few cutting glares from the hockey players who were loitering around for their own practice. The chain reaction of you being late meant that the Zamboni flooded the ice late which meant that hockey practice started late.
Late, late, late.
You would totally skip class too, if it weren’t the one that you were struggling the most in. The Teaching Assistant even allowed you to meet with her before class today to go over the outline of your mid-term, and you really need to do well on it.
“What do I do, what do I do?” you wonder aloud, staring at the bright neon sign. You don’t have enough time to make it home, but—you groan as the idea pops into your head.
The men’s locker room.
There are showers in there. Ones that probably work, too.
Fuck, you really don’t want to do this.
But you have no choice, you’re not spending the day walking around classes a filthy mess or smelling like sweat.
You duck out the door with your things, your bag slung over your shoulder, towel draped over your arm. Your shoes are clutched in your free hand as you duck your head, walking faster. Passing the rink just to make sure the hockey team is still out on the ice, you exhale softly, only allowing yourself a fleeting look at sex on skates.
Azriel is fast. Probably one of the fastest forwards on the team. He slides across the arena with a grace that rivals your own, and you’re impressed. Maybe he’s taken a few figure skating classes of his own. If only you could ask.
Quickly, you make sure that the coast is clear before ducking into the men’s locker room. It doesn’t look much different from the women’s locker rooms, with added urinals. It’s muggy even though it’s early, from the male figure skaters taking showers of their own. There’s a lingering scent of stale sweat in the air that makes your nose wrinkle, but you can push through that if it means you get the shower you so desperately need.
You halt, listening for any noise. Nothing. The locker room is perfectly empty.
You hustle to the back of the room where the showers are located, claiming the one furthest from the door. If someone does come inside, they likely won’t take up the empty shower next to you. Something about bro code and urinals, Cassian once mentioned. You pray that it applies to showers, too.
The walls separating each shower come up to your shoulders, and there’s a pair of swinging doors that keep the area enclosed. The water pressure is incredible, much better than in the women’s showers, and you groan as you step under the hot spray. Your towel is hung on the rack, your bag the furthest from the water as you can manage without getting it wet or being seen by anyone that might come your way.
You scrub your hair quickly, and when you turn around to wash the shampoo out, your eyes connect with a very familiar—and very heated—pair of hazel ones.
Azriel.
Holy fuck, this can’t be happening right now. His dark hair is damp with sweat, clinging to his perfectly tan skin. He’s sans shirt, and when your gaze quickly flicks to below the door, notice that he’s not wearing any pants, either.
Your heart pounds in your chest. He’s not supposed to be in here. You’re not supposed to be in here.
“What are you doing in here?” You exclaim, voice pitching high with your nerves. You slap your arms across your chest, even though you know he’s gotten an eyeful of your breasts from his vantage point, way taller than where the doors end.
“What are you doing in here?” He bites back, and the roughness of his voice makes the warmth pounding against your back converge between your legs. Fuck, he’s so attractive. His throat works around a harsh swallow, and you have to clamp your legs together stifle the throbbing.
Azriel watches you shift on your feet uneasily. Tracks you with his dark gaze like you’re a trapped animal and he’s about to pounce.
You kind of like this look on him.
“The women’s showers are out of order and I’m late for class,” you hastily reply, cheeks burning bright. You don’t know why he’s in here or if the rest of the team is seconds from following, but you need to get the fuck out of here right now, go bury your head in your pillow and potentially never return to the ice rink ever again.
This is utterly humiliating.
Azriel opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, raucous laughter and crude jokes fill the space as the rest of the team enter the locker room. Your heart falls to the floor, swirling around with the soap that’s still running from your hair, and slipping down the drain.
Before you can protest, Azriel’s shoving himself inside of the stall with you, uncaring that you’re completely naked and shouldn’t be here. He presses himself up against you and you slip, but he’s righting you, pulling you into his chest where you can feel how very interested he is in this debacle.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You exclaim, and it’s hard to keep your voice from shouting frantically like you want to.
The air becomes a thousand times hotter. You can barely breathe with him pressed up against you like this, turning the both of you and hiding you from the view of his teammates. Your heart still races in your chest, both because your fucking crush is pressing his naked torso up against yours and with the fear that one of his teammates will take notice.
“It’s either I see you naked, or the entire team does,” he whispers, huskily. “And no way in hell am I letting that fucking happen.” He growls and something like pleasure skitters down your spine.
You swallow roughly, “Good call.”
“Practice ended early,” He tacks on, answering your previous question.
“I gathered,” you breathe, but it holds none of the heat that it normally does when you talk to any of the hockey players. Especially Cassian. “You were out there for like, five minutes,” you whisper-shout. You can feel how red your cheeks are, and while this may be mortifying, Azriel’s hard cock pressed into your stomach only adds to your already heightened emotions.
You wonder what he’d do if you got down on your knees right now.
“It’s been an hour,” he responds, and you hold your breath when the water of another shower turns on. Azriel drags you under the spray with him, making it look to his teammates that he’s showering instead of hiding the figure skater they’ve been arguing with for ice time all semester. “Coach wanted to keep us loose for the weekend. We’re supposed to change and watch film.”
Fuck, maybe you were staring for longer than you thought.
You can’t focus. Your entire mind needs rewiring because all you can think about right now is how Azriel’s bare skin is touching yours. How he towers over you, how he’s staring down at you with a heat that rivals a thousand wildfires. Actually, he’s staring a little south of your eyes, right at your—
“Hey,” you snap softly. Your arms are still tucked tightly over your chest, and you hope you’re not experiencing a nip-slip right now. “Eyes up here, asshole.”
Azriel’s smile nearly makes you slip.
“Can’t help myself,” he defends, and this is the most animated you’ve ever seen him. Out on the ice he’s all broody and serious, head strictly in the game. It’s hot, but this side of him, cheeky and smug, might even be hotter. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Can you feel how hard you make me, baby?”
Gods, if he doesn’t shut up right now, you’re probably going to do something you’ll regret later, like grab his hand and slide it right between your—
“Dude,” Cassian’s voice bellows and you duck closer into Azriel’s chest. Each ridge of his impressive muscles contract as he freezes up and despite your heart feeling like it’s about to pound out of your chest, you can admit that this is thrilling. The thought of being caught in here, surrounded by built hockey players, naked with Azriel, makes your core twist with pleasure. “Since when do you have a pink towel?”
You wince. Of course, he can see where the towel is hung on the rack, the dude is massive.
Azriel lies easily, “Yeah, some chick left it over at my place and I brough it to return to her later.” It sounds like something he’s done before. A bite of jealousy hits you hot and harsh at the thought of him doing this with anyone else.
You clench your jaw, but as if he can feel the way you tense, his large hands come to rest on your hips, soothing across your skin. Fucking fuck.
“Used? Nice one, Azzy,” Cassian laughs and nothing more is said while he returns to his own shower.
Azriel eases slightly, the motion making his abs relax. You want to lean forward and lick over them, but now is nor the time nor the place.
You really need to get the fuck out of here.
There’s no way in hell that you’re going to make it to class, dammit.
You hear more showers turn on, and Azriel removes his hands from your hips to reach behind you for the soap you have on the shelf. You watch him as he squeezes some of the shampoo into his hands before scrubbing them through his black hair. He’s like a fucking dream come true, and his cock still hasn’t gone down from where it’s pinned between the both of you, only the thin fabric of his boxers keeping you and it from meeting.
A droplet of soap falls onto your face, and you flinch, but don’t move. You’re not sure if you can, because your limbs are seized up with nerves. You’re not sure you want to.
Azriel rinses his hands off, slowly bringing them to your face. He wipes the droplet away with his knuckle and the feeling goes straight to your core.
“Azriel,” you breathe, but are promptly interrupted for a second time.
“Hey, man.” It’s Rhys. “You ready to kick the Sea Lion’s asses this weekend?” The water turns on in the shower directly next to you and in your haste to shuffle closer to Azriel, your arm brushes up against his cock and his hands fly out, gripping you firmly to keep you from squirming.
Oh. He’s enjoying being in this shower with you as much as you are.
A smirk makes its way onto your face that makes Azriel’s glorious hazel eyes narrow in distrust.
Reaching carefully behind you, you snag the bottle of conditioner from the rack and press it softly into his hand. His brows furrow in confusion as he answers his team captain. “Yeah, dude, Tarquin and his team don’t stand a fucking chance.” He almost chokes when you slide down to your knees in front of him.
“Damn straight,” Rhys says, while Azriel pleads you with his eyes. You’re not sure if he wants you to stop or keep going, but you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tug anyway.
His cock springs from its confines and the bottle in Azriel’s hand drops, ringing loudly against the floor.
“Shit,” he says, but it’s tight in his throat, like he can’t even get the words out. If someone catches on, he’s screwed.
He leans down to pick up the conditioner bottle and you frown as his cock is pulled from eye-level.
“What do you think you’re doing, pretty girl?”
You lean in close, sliding your hands up his muscular arms, enjoying the way his thick, dark eyelashes flutter under your touch. “Just enjoy, Azriel,” you whisper, your breath casting over his lips. He could grab you by the back of your head and tug you into the kiss he’s been wanting to since the first day you showed up at the rink, snarking at the team for going over their time. His cock jumps at the thought of those pursed lips wrapped around his cock. “And wash my hair while you’re at it.”
“Fuck,” he groans softly, but you pull away before he can rock into you and claim your mouth. He’s been crouched down for too long, anyway, so he rips himself from you, pushing to his feet.
“What do you think about Tarquin?” you hear Rhys ask, but you’re already reaching forward, taking Azriel in your hand. He jerks immediately and when you look up at him, he’s already shooting you an apologetic look, and then another that tells you he isn’t going to last very long.
You like the idea of that. Having this power over him.
He’s hard and smooth in your hand. You watch eagerly as a bead of precum drips from the tip, but it’s washed away by the water still cascading down his body, to your disappointment. If you’re going to be waterboarded, you’re thankful that this is how it’s going to go.
Azriel’s response is choked when you finally wrap your lips around the head of his cock, teasing his slit with the tip of your tongue. The flavor of him bursts on your tongue as another drop of precum follows, and you almost moan before remembering where you are. To keep the noise from coming out, you sink further onto his cock, cutting off your airflow.
“He’s good, but he’s no match for Bloodshed over there,” Azriel answers, and his hand falls to your head, fingers burying into your hair. You can feel the cold of the conditioner and if you weren’t enjoying yourself too much by bobbing your mouth up and down his cock, you’d be worried about the amount he’s using.
“Yeah,” Rhys says. “Their goalie is decent, but our offense is better.”
Azriel hums in response and his other hand finds your face, cupping it and guiding you just the way that he likes.
You take advantage of his help, lathing your tongue across any skin that you can find, reveling in the feeling of it all. Your legs are clenched so tightly together, your clit aching for release. You’re on edge, but you’re terrified of making any noise. You really can’t be found in the men’s locker room like this.
“Dude…” Rhys trails off, and the suspicion in his voice makes you falter, but Azriel’s still guiding your head, trying not to fully say fuck it and jerk his cock as deep as he can go. “Are you fucking jacking off right now?”
“Yeah,” Az answers, because he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He’s still going to protect you, but his hips are moving, his tip hitting the back of your throat but not pushing any further, so you don’t choke. “So, if you’d kindly fuck off, that’d be ace. We’ll talk at film. Tell coach I’ll be late.”
Rhysand’s answering chuckle rings throughout the stalls when he cuts the water from his shower. “Enough said, Az. You’re fucking sick, but I’m out.”
As soon as Rhysand’s out the door, Azriel’s picking up his pace, gasping out that he’s going to release and trying to pry you off his cock like the gentleman he is.
Too bad you want his cum in your mouth.
You curl your fingers into the meat of his thighs, urging him to stay inside.
“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking perfect,” he groans before he releases himself. He’s all heady and musky, and you swallow him greedily, not letting a single drop escape. Gods, you need to stop acting like this, but around Azriel, you can’t help yourself.
He helps you to your feet and ducks down to capture your lips in a heated, desperate kiss. Your hands find his hair, clutching to him as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, silently asking for permission. You grant it to him, and the kiss turns hot and needy, like he’s been wanting this for a long as you have.
You’re breathless when he pulls away, chest heaving, but your gaze stays locked on his, especially when he sinks to his own knees.
“What are you doing?” you pant, planting your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging deliciously into his skin.
“Returning the favor,” he says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world. He taps the inside of your tingling thighs. “Why do you think I told Rhys to tell coach that I’m going to be late? C’mon, pretty girl, open these legs for me.”
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Hockey!AU Tag (will be tagged for any hockey fic, no matter paring):
@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks
#acotar#azsazz#acomaf#azriel/reader#azriel x reader#azriel#hockey!azriel#hockey!bat boys#acowar#azriel smut
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You're standing out on the front porch watching the storm roll in. The crank radio crackles with the weather, reporting that the tornado watch has just been upgraded to a warning. You take a sip from the can perched between your fingers and duck your head out from the cover of the porch to squint up at the sky. It doesn't do much more than drench you, but it's good feeling the rain on your skin.
The wind stops. The sky goes green, then black, then the sirens go off. The steadily increasing wail of them sure makes this all feel eerie, especially when the rain starts pounding the side of the house like it owes the weatherman money. Your radio putters to a stop, and you turn to rotate the hand crank. You barely bend down before an arm hooks your waist and you're seruptitiously scooped up and thrown over a very muscular, and well loved, shoulder.
Simon moves in quick, long, strides around the house, uncaring of the downpour when he's so singularly focused on moving you. He kicks open the storm cellar doors and all but throws you down the stairs. Catching the back of your shirt when you stumble to make sure you don't break your neck. You turn to ask him what the big deal is and he gives you a rough, tight, "stay here" before slamming the door in your face.
Wha- you gotta get the fucking generator running, you don't have time to be sitting in the basement!
-
Ghost grabs the wind up radio off the porch swing and hastily cranks it back to life. Price wanders onto the porch and follows the same motions you did, sipping his beer as he glances up at the sky. "Look at that," Price whistles, just as the wind picks up. You come trudging around the house with a can of gas and Ghost feels his chest tighten.
"What the fuck did I tell you?" He grunts, intercepting you before you can find whatever you're looking for. You're once again tossed over his shoulder and deposited in the cellar where it's safe. Now for the rest of the muppets on this farm.
The dog wriggles when he picks it up, licks his face eagerly and freezes when thunder claps. Only to pick up it's wriggling again in earnest when Ghost passes you, once again out of the safety of the cellar. Ghost grabs the back of your overalls and drags you back to the cellar. He's going to hog tie you. You're not about to get sucked into a tornado if he can help it.
-
Soap glances out the window as the house starts to shake with the sheer battery of rain against it. He shoves his passport into the bag of necessities he's hastily been throwing together. Christ he doesn't even know what he needs in the event of a tornado. Anything he doesn't want to risk losing, but nothing that he's willing to die for.
Gaz nearly kicks the door open, and Soap nearly jumps out of his skin at the noise.
"Steamin' Jesus, ah thought the bloody tornado was in the 'ouse," Soap clutches his heart, switches to clutching the cross around his neck when that doesn't feel like enough. Jesus wept he never jumped so high in his life.
"Price is sittin' on the porch like a fookin' madman," Gaz breathes, the words pouring out of him faster than the rain.
"Where's the doctor, we're gonna need 'er?" Soap asks, suddenly the idea that his captain might be torn asunder seems all too likely.
"It's not the bloody apocalypse," Gaz tells him, shouldering his own go-bag, his eyes as frightened as Soap's rapid pulse, "Just a tornado."
"You are such a fuckin' liar, ahm watchin' the rapture oot there." Soap gesticulates towards the window. Duck stops by Soap's open door and gives the two of them a look.
"Do y'all want a beer for the road?" She asks, unphased by the storm that seems to be bearing down on them. Soap and Gaz stare at her.
"The road?" Gaz asks.
"Thompsons say they saw this thing touch down so I'm gonna try wrestling your captain into the cellar." She shrugs. Soap pales, his eyes dart to Gaz who is already halfway out the door.
"I'm not dying in bloody texas," Gaz grumbles, scooting past Duck, who gives another shrug and follows after him.
Soap starts his hail Marys, may as well get those out of the way.
-
"-really the proper way to experience God's wrath," you joke. Your arms are tied behind your back, legs tied together as you sit on a little folding chair in the cellar. Soap doesn't laugh. Simon sits with his head in his hands. Gaz's foot taps impatiently on the concrete floor.
"Will you stop being such a man!" Your mother gripes, wrestling with your father as he attempts to wander back up the stairs and out into the world.
"How the fuck am I supposed to know the thing's past us?" Price bites back.
"S'what the radio's for," Simon grumbles.
"Did anyone remember to latch the paddock gate?" You wonder aloud.
"You keep your ass in that seat or I swear to god," Simon glares at you.
"You'll what?" You glare, "tie me up and throw me in the cellar?"
#cod x reader#x reader#simon ghost riley#cod x oc#x oc#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost mw2#simon riley#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish#captain john price#oc: duck#oc: goose#cowboy au#cowboy!ghost#cowboy!soap#cowboy!gaz#cowboy!price
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[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( eighth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .
୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight.
୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro
୨୧˚ cw; sugarmommy! reader , sugarbaby! toji , smut , submissive toji , finger sucking , masturbation , oral sex (f!receiving) , profanity
୨୧˚ an; so not happy with my writing in this one, probs will rewrite it one day but here, have a couple thousand words of smut🗣️ this is lowkey another filler but lowkey not at the same time? i wanted to fit in another intimate moment before shit goes south awooooooo
You were not fibbing when you said you knew your way around the kitchen. “Holy fuck,” Toji all but moans, tearing into another piece of tender meat with his canines. It was juicy and seasoned almost too much, just the way he likes it. He squints across the table, where you eat in tandem with much better manners than he could ever hope to have. “Who taught you how to cook like this?”
You shrug bashfully under his gawking, wiping your mouth with a dainty stroke of the napkin you had placed in your lap. “I traveled a lot in between semesters at college. Italy, France, Denmark…” You list a few more places that Toji wouldn’t be able to point out on a map. “Those European countries do food so good, I guess it inspired me to give my best shot at it as well.” Self taught, huh? Yeah, you seem like the type to succeed in everything you try.
The man nods, ultimately wishing he had more to add. He wishes he had just an ounce in common with you, a smidgen of relatability to offer. But he doesn’t. Toji didn’t finish school. He’s never left Japan. He’s never cooked a damn thing from scratch in his life. You must’ve caught on to his struggle and decided to show mercy by adding, “actually, right now we’re eating steak au poivre.”
“Steak au po–” He cut himself off before inevitably butchering the name. “What is that? French?”
You’re nodding enthusiastically. “That’s right. I happened upon this dish when I was staying in Bordeaux with a few college mates.” There’s a sweet smile tugging sheepishly at your lips as you recall the memory. “I fell in love with it the second I tried it, and asked the manager right then and there for the recipe.”
Toji shakes his head with disbelief, talking with his mouth full of food. “You’re just full of stories, aren’t you?”
“Some would call me experienced, yes.”
His brow raises. Experienced? Was that a come on? Toji gives way to his own quaint smile, jutting his chin toward you. “Say it again.”
“Say what again?”
“Steak au whatever.”
You oblige his request, repeating the name back slowly so he could attempt to grasp it. “Steak au poivre. Now you give it a go.”
Toji finishes chewing the mouthful of peppercorn-laced meat, swallowing it down with a swig of the Château Cheval Blanc you’d poured at the start of the meal. Some fancy French imported wine is what he gathered from the long winded description you waxed as you topped off an extravagant glass for him. Wine never really appealed to the man—he usually went for the harder shit. The type that you knock back from lowball glasses. The type to get you piss drunk after three rounds—but it was all you ever drank. It was safe to say he was becoming accustomed to your tastes. Maybe the sweetness wasn’t so terrible. He clears his throat, putting embarrassingly too much effort into his “steak au poivre.” It doesn’t sound pretty the way it did leaving your mouth, and he grimaces. “Can’t fucking do it.”
“I thought you sounded good.” He scoffs at that, but you click your tongue. “I’m serious.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll just leave the French speaking to you.” The plate before him sits scraped clean. You’re still working on your dinner. Fuck, you’re a slow eater. “You know any more?”
“Any more French, you mean?”
He nods along with a gruff hum, swishing his tongue around his teeth, collecting anything left over of that smokiness from the peppered steak.
“Hm. Tu m'as manqué, Toji.” You hide your grin behind the rim of your glass.
Thick forearms crossed over chest, he croons a deep, barely-there chuckle. “I heard my name. Tell me what you said.”
“No way,” you chortle.
“Ah, c’mon. You’re all blushy.” He licks over the chappedness of his lower lip, knowing gaze latched onto your lips. It was hypnotic, your smile. “You say somethin’ dirty about me, ma’am?”
The way in which your eyes widened coquettishly at the accusation had Toji’s heart beating just a bit more erratically. Like a fawn, he thinks. All that was missing on you was a white, cottony tail.
“If I said something dirty, It would have been in a language you could understand.” Finally, you take the last bite off your dish as well. Hopefully that means dinner is officially over; Toji has been craving dessert since he stepped foot in your house and got showered in ‘welcome back’ gifts. “I’m not the type of woman easily embarrassed by my sexuality. I thought you would have picked that up by now.”
He persists. “What are you embarrassed by?”
“Toji.” His name is spoken sharply, a verbal warning that he was tiptoeing the line. Threatening to shatter that layer of thin ice he stood upon. This is what he’s been needing. This is what he’s been fucking needing.
“I’ve been thinking about you, ma’am.” Any semblance of a filter is long gone, melted by the sheer heat of his desire. His limbs feel heavy, hands tumbling into his lap. They rest on the wide surface area of sweatpant-clad thighs, just sitting there. Feeling himself. “This entire week, I’ve been thinking.”
You seem to get the implications of his confession. “In a sexual way?”
“Yeah.” That’s a white lie. To be truthful was to admit that the sexual thoughts Toji let himself think about you were the minority. Objectifying you in the depths of his mind wasn't enough. He thought about your breasts, sure. He thought about your curves, and your ass, and your mouth, and every other body part that would grant him pleasure. But that wasn’t enough for Toji. Fixations of his tended to lead him astray from fantasies, instead breaching carefully saved memories stored within his brain catalog. When he touched himself, it was more or less to remembrances of mundane tasks you’d dealt him in the past. All the times you had bestowed little gifts and knick knacks on a whim just because they reminded you of him. Or when you drag him to the outlets with you for a shopping spree and he’ll act miserable the entire time, but you both knew it was a horribly crafted facade. Or even, like now, when you’d treat him to dinner because you worry over him and his eating schedule. The little things really counted; a revelation that scared Toji shitless, so he opted to ignore those budding, foreign feelings and replace it with familiarity: lust.
“Toji, honey, are you alright?”
What? His breathing pattern was off kilter, and the muscles of his jaw flexed unconsciously. When had he started palming himself? His right hand had grown a mind of its own apparently, because when Toji stole a glance downward, there it was; kneading roughly at the bulge between his meaty thighs. How desperate was he? To go dormant like that, so consumed with the thought of you that he began to instinctually masturbate himself not even five feet away from where you sit. And why… Why wasn’t he stopping?
“Can we fuck now?”
“Oh.” You barely look shocked. Not the slightest bit appalled like he expected you to be. Instead, slide off a ring that took purchase wrapped around your middle finger. A sigh escapes you as you place the band on the table. “I still have more to ask you. I wanted to know how your work trip went.”
Toji shakes his head, something akin to a toddler trying to get fed vegetables. “No.”
“No?”
“I don’t wanna talk about work.”
“Why not?” You frown, leaning forward against the tabletop. “Was it bad?”
He knows what you’re doing. Trying to make him spill any details about his job. Well, he won’t give in.
A heavy sigh slithers out hoarsely from the deepest part of his lungs, and Toji presses his palms to the table, pushing himself up. He stands tall, much like the tent at his crotch, and slinks along the roundness of the dinner table, walking his fingertips across the top all the while. “I don’t want to talk,” he reiterates, breathy and abrasive.
Finally, Toji stands before you. Still, you are seated, unbothered by the towering man’s presence. No, you’re swirling your wine glass sophisticatedly, lips pursed into a narrow line. Like you’re the slightest bit irritated with his persistent defiance.
God, you won't even look at him.
Or maybe, you were never irritated at all. Toji cops a second glance to your lips, finding the faintest ghost of a frown. “You’ve been acting so… so removed. Ever since you left.” Now you’re looking at him; Toji shudders under the intense fire that billows behind your eyes, wide and wetted with worry. “I want you to feel like you can tell me things. I want your trust, Toji.”
You have his trust. Every last crumb of it resides in the palm of your soft hand.
“... And I know that it’s stupid—I’m stupid for wanting that from you. I know what this relationship is, and I know that there are these unspoken boundaries, but I—I can’t—”
It was the first time he’d ever heard you speak with such a volatile expression. There was a tremble of uncertainty in your vocal chords, carrying into the skittish dialogue that tumbled out in rambles. Something about such a show of pity from you, his Y/n, made his guts churn like butter. He can’t listen to this any more. With swiftness, Toji dives down to press his mouth against yours, swallowing the words that die on your tongue. One hand grips the back of your chair, the other holds the roundness of your cheek. He feels your gasp, feels the way your shoulders jolt in surprise, but he doesn’t release you.
This was really only his second instance of kissing you. The first had been in his bed, with his groin pressed to yours, tongue fighting its way to the back of your throat with greedy fervor. This second kiss was anything but greedy, though. Despite the ache that roiled at the base of his stomach, Toji didn’t serve you a kiss that reflected his desire. Tongues never met and spit was never swapped; just lips on glossed lips.
At last, Toji reluctantly peels away. Lipstick residue feels heavy on his mouth, and he knows he probably looks foolish donning remnants of your dark lip lacquer, but he doesn’t move to wipe his skin. The circular bottom of the wine glass clinks as you clumsily set it down, freeing your hands. They branch upwards, finding his face. A pair of thumbs rub the sensitive pads of flesh beneath his eyes, massaging out those ugly, darkened bags that have accumulated as a result of many sleepless nights. It feels orgasmic, the way you handle him.
“I trust you.” The words are out in the air before he has time to think.
You brighten, sunshine hiding in the crevices of your smile. “You mean that?” You ask him, hands petting down the sides of his neck.
He meant it wholeheartedly. The amount of trust left within Toji was scarce. Too many bad people fucked him for life; showed him the meaning of the phrase ‘trust is earned.’ So it really fucking freaked him out how quickly you came to earn it. A little over a year-–that’s how long he’s known you—you’ve have plenty of time to fuck him over. To batter him. And yet, you haven’t. All you’ve ever shown him was kindness and consideration and warmth and everything else Toji never knew how bad he was thirsty for.
“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”
“I trust you, too, Toji.”
He wonders if he deserves that. Because really, what has given you besides his annoyingly closed-off dickhead attitude? He provides fuck all, but you still stick around.
Toji doesn’t say anything. He swoops once more, capturing your lips in a hungrier kiss than before. All the playful innocence is tossed aside, forgotten in lieu of Toji’s devastatingly furious need to consume you. Tongues finally greet each other in a spittle-slicked tango; he dominates yours with ease, worming behind your teeth just to collect your sweet flavor. Wine, he thinks. You taste like your goddamn expensive ass wine.
He feels feverish. One-track minded, hyper fixated on you. On your crossed legs underneath the table. “Fuck,” Toji breathes into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip.
Your hand clashes against the hard wall of his chest, patting it softly. A wordless signal that you need some air, so he retracts. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
The plea goes in one ear and falls right out the other. Toji leeches against your neck, dragging the flat of his wet tongue over that little throbbing pulse point. His teeth grate against your flawless skin, completely none the wiser that you’re even talking to him. You thwack the back of his head, and he lurches into the crook of your shoulder, muffling a groan.
“No marks, I’ve got work.”
His eyes roll, face still burrowed against you. He couldn’t give less of a shit about your job right now.
“Come on, let’s go to my room.”
“Gimme a sec.” He’s still licking below your jaw, making his way down. This stupidly lavish house had been cursed with three levels, your bedroom holed up at the very top floor. Like hell Toji was going to part ways with your glorious body so you two could safely make it up the two ridiculous staircases. Fuck that.
“Toji, I’m… serious…” Your raucous pants of anticipation suggest otherwise. Toji has sunken to his knees, crawling beneath the table and finding a home on the floor before your seat. His kneecaps scream in discomfort as they pin heavily to the wooden floorboards, but Toji bears the pain well ( he’d always been somewhat of a masochist ). Your legs are still crossed, one knee hinging over the other.
“Open these.” Two calloused hands cuff around the thinnest parts of either ankle. Your legs were conspicuously smooth; did you shave for him? There is an attempt at delicacy when Toji pries your legs apart, and it makes you giggle.
“Here?” You laugh more. Toji suspects you’re patronizing him in a way. “I haven’t even cleared the table. Are you really so impatient?”
And here Toji thought he exercised his patience well. He didn’t jump your bones the second of his arrival. No, he waited like a good boy until after dinner. “I’ve waited for this the whole week.” Restless hands walk up those porcelain calves, strong and lean from working in high heels. They wander up, hooking beneath the junctures of your knees; Toji uses his celestial strength to his advantage, maneuvering both legs with ease until he’s got them resting comfortably over his broad shoulders. Toji turns, cocks his head to give a serpentine lick to the inside of your thigh. Then a bite. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I’ll fucking die.”
You peer down at him. “Don’t talk like that.” You feel yourself. Small hands groping your chest, sliding lower and lower. “You’re not going to die.”
His mouth feels sticky, like there’s a spoonful of honey under his tongue. “I might.”
Your heel drives into his upper back, an impish little warning that makes him throb all over. “Don’t talk like that, I said.” Those manicured hands have garnered Toji’s full attention. They descend all the way to the hem of your luxurious dress, wrenching into its hem. It’s the sexiest sight Toji had ever seen: you pulling your dress up with the quickness of a sloth, inching the fabric up until it scrunches around the dip of your waistline.
“These are hot,” he murmurs, thumbing the waistband of the scarlet panties. They were tight, sinking into the ample pudge of your hips and soft tummy. So fucking beautiful, he thinks, the contrast between deep red lace and the flesh of which it lays upon. The perfect, little present gift wrapped in a low-rise lace thong. “Bet they cost a pretty penny.”
You spare a breathy exhale through your nostrils. “I don’t look at price tags when I buy things for you.”
You bought these just for him? “You spoil me.”
“You deserve to get spoiled, baby.”
He is so mind numbingly turned on. Sickening tendrils of appetence bleed into his vision, his lust coils around his limbs and guide his movements like a marionette. Toji thumbs your—his—panties to the side, soaking in the sight of that pretty pussy he’s longed to be back inside of since the moment he pulled out. His face is close, so fucking close that he can feel warmth radiate off your core and deepen his flush.
Perhaps this is how he begins his journey of repayment. Ever indebted to you, despite your odd relationship being a mutually agreed upon situation, Toji fears you’ve truly altered him. For the better or worse he isn’t sure yet; all he knows is that you make him feel good. Better than he’s felt in fucking ages. You said he deserves to get spoiled? Well so do you, too.
Toji eats you with erotic vigor, delving into the deepest parts of your cunt with his lascivious tongue. He’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t possess many skills. He isn’t terribly smart, nor is he gifted with great conversational skills like you. He isn't good at holding a real job. Isn’t very good at expressing himself. Not good at abiding by the law, or staying sober, either. But if ever there was an artistry in which Toji had full confidence he had mastered, it was oral sex.
“Oh, Toji,” you gasped, forcing his face deeper with a hand on the back of his skull. “Right there.”
Toji dug you out, excavating your hole with expertise. One hand slipped up beneath your dress, under your bra, pawing at your breast whilst the other busied itself in his pants. He stroked himself to the heady taste of pussy, fanning your clit with hot puffs of breath. You writhe against his open mouth, hips dancing, hands grabbing.
It’s more enjoyable like this, Toji thinks briefly. To not expect a wad of bills afterward in exchange for his velvet tongue. He eats you for leisure, because he wants to, and because you want him, and no other reason. It’s enough that you both need each other.
Toji groans loosely when you yank his hair, getting off on the way you move his head to your liking. “Suck my clit,” you instruct quietly, and he obliges with upmost obedience, nose nuzzling against the tuft of hair at your pubic bone.
Toji opens his eyes for the first time in a while, then thanks God he did. You look something like a goddess, celestial and righteous in the way your body works against his face. Using him to cure an insatiable desperation, with your lids screwed shut and head tossed back on your shoulders. “Are you gonna cum?” He sits up on his haunches a little taller, a little more alert now to fully experience your orgasm. “Cum in my mouth.”
He begs for it. Begs like a little bitch. Over and over again, mumbling the mantra between rough suctions to your swollen clit. Begging wasn’t like him. His father beat the beggar out of him many years ago, said it was weak to yearn for things so badly. The old man was right, Toji has never felt weaker than he does right now, knelt under the table with his head between your thighs.
“Oh my God.” Your voice is strained thin, each syllable pulled taught. The vice grip on his roots start to sting, follicles ripping from the scalp, but doesn’t tell you to stop. “Toji, fuck you’re so good.”
He’s good.
“You’re so good.”
“Mmn.” He squeezes himself, chokes his dick hard. Toji feels it when you cum. Warmth floods the cavern of his slack mouth, gushing and creamy. You fall silent, stunned by the force of your orgasm he presumes. Toji licks you through your high, guzzling down every drop of wetness that seeps from your spasming slit. It’s hot and gushy and messy; cum dribbles past his lips, collecting in beads that roll down his tensing neck.
Only when you blindly push at his face does Toji part ways with your center, leaning past your trembling hand to nuzzle into your stomach. It’s concave with an ongoing exhale; he nips at your navel. “Breathe.”
“Toji,” you whisper. On the come down, you’re a lot nicer; those needy, grabbing hands of yours now stroked down the tangled mess of his damp shag. He presses a handful of sloppy smooches above your belly button.
The erection trapped in the confines of his pants twitch at the dreadfully angelic drawl of his name. “Good?” His question is gruff and pointless as ever; anyone with eyes could tell you just had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life.
Your head lolls forward, rolling down to face him. Fingertips brush his chin, collecting the sticky residuals that dampened his stubble. You take your lower lip in between teeth when you bring those same soaked digits to Toji’s open mouth. He doesn’t resist you. Fingers are welcomed; he unhinges his jaw, baring the same holy tongue that just drove you to Heaven. You wipe cum-ridden fingers against the muscle, and Toji clamps around them in a vacuum-esque suction, looking up at you through dark lashes all the while. Your thumb traces the raised flesh on his upper lip. That ugly, jagged scar.
He catches your wrist when you move to flee his mouth, holding you in place. Sucking on you, touching himself along the way. Lapping between fingers, tonguing the thin web of skin there.
“So good, baby boy.” There’s the praise he craved, the praise he played oblivious to get. You claw deeper, jutting towards the back of his throat, pulling a scratchy gag from the man. What kind of fetish was this? You made everything sexy, even whatever this humiliation ritual was; watching him choke down slippery fingers with fat tears bleeding at his waterline. “You are so beautiful, Toji.”
“—oh en nah,” or no I’m not had there not been a barrier blocking his teeth from touching. Toji knows he’s an aged man, one riddled with scars and wounds and bruises and gauges and what have you. His skin is nowhere near perfect, baring disgusting reminders of what he does—who he is. Beautiful is what he’d call someone like you. Someone calm and serene, humble and kind. You’re a beautiful sight, and you’re also the complete and utter opposite of him.
“You are.” He wanted to be inside you for this. Toji had been daydreaming this scenario over and out in his head over the long haul of the week, going through the motions of his plan to fuck you. He’d give you everything tenfold, a barbaric fucking unlike your first time together. He imagined finally showing you his version of things, bending you over the couch first thing and blowing his load deep into your cunt.
Toji choked again, and a single thick tear fell from his lashes. You whispered sweet prayers, holding his face, wiping his eyes, fucking his mouth with fingers that tasted of your cum. It was a damn mystery how you rendered him so fucking pitiful, to be nutting on his knees into his boxers like this. A damn mystery.
His breaths are ragged when he explodes, hand and cock obscured by the sweatpants that sat low around his hips. Toji doesn’t stop pumping, tugging the shaft with long, hard strokes, wringing himself dry. Dark eyes weld shut, and he collapses against your thigh with a quake of exhaustion. Toji doesn’t know when you withdrew your fingers; the only tell that gave it away was the string of saliva that slapped coldly against his chin in the wake of your removal. He mewls, a graveling sound that sounds as if his voice box had been dragged through a sea of razor blades.
“You alright?”
A flowery hand slithers beneath his damp cheek, and suddenly his heavy head is being lifted. Toji is forced to meet your soft gaze; adoration brims in your eyes, as though you’re proud of him for creaming in his briefs like some flimsy virgin.
“Answer me, please.”
Toji smacks his mouth, preparing for his voice to project broken and fragmented. “I’m fine.” He could do without the pity; you were cautious to a fault. He wasn’t made of glass.
“You’re filthy.”
He grumbles, feigning grumpiness and averting his eyes off to the side. “I just had your pussy in my mouth.”
You bend at the waist, leaning down to meet him for a kiss. Toji melts against you, cradling your face with his semen-stained hand. You don’t seem to mind the wetness. He’s pouting against your mouth, childlike. “I wanted to cum inside you.”
You latch onto his nose, nibbling the point. “Let’s go clean up.” There’s a telling smile etched onto your lips, and your mouth finds his ear. Whispering ever so sensually, “I have a big shower in my bedroom.”
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tags . • @4imhry @sugurubabe @mastermasterlist1p1 @mikisspeak @fluttershyfangs @iluv-ace @xstom @bratbby333 @mizzfizz @sserafin @wo-ming-bai @maexc @r0semultiverse @r0ckst4rjk @aesukuni @taelattecookie @purple-obsidian @hqtoge @khaothick @saintkaylaa @ya9amicide @crayzyaarna @saiki-enthusiast @haesify @nyamocka @sixxze @lifesucksweswallow @darkstarlight82 @megumisdivinedogs @celestialol @yunho-leeknow @ghostfacefricker6969 @aizawa19 @lupicalbestwolf @nymphsdomain @makuzume @killerkinnie
#❝ 𝐑𝐀𝐄’𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 ❞#jjk smau#jjk texts#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk drabbles#jjk smut#toji fushiguro#toji smau#toji drabbles#toji angst#toji smut#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji x reader#toji fluff#jjk toji#geto smut#nanami smut#choso smut#gojo smut
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Hii!! Could you please write a Max verstappen x soulmate reader. Like they can speak in each other's minds and how they first met. Like fluff or angst or whatever you want . You make the call. Please 🥺🥺
LMAOOOO IM LITERALLY WRITING THIS FOR RHETT ABBOTT
Nothing, just an inchident. Fucking asshole.
Those were the first words her soulmate ever said to her, the first time she heard his voice in her head. She stopped what she was doing, looking around with wide eyes.
What the fuck?
What the fuck?
And that was how it started. The two had be so fucking surprised, buy recovered quickly. They gave awkward introductions, without actually telling each other anything about themselves.
It took the two of them a moment to realise that, whatever they thought, the other person could hear.
It seemed the two of them hadn't shut up since.
She learnt pretty quickly that he loved to talk, that he loved explaining things. He was a nerd, he loved gaming. She could have listened to him go on about gaming for hours (and she often did).
She couldn't remember what she had told him. Definitely everything but her name. God, how long had it been since his voice first entered her head.
Hey, she said as she woke up.
There was usually no response as she waited for him to wake up. She'd tried to use this to work out where in the world he was, but he was always moving, always on different time zones.
A few hours later, there he was. Hello, schat, he said in her mind. A small smile crossed her face. Are you doing anything nice today?
He rarely spoke about his own day, she noticed. But it wasn't a problem. If he wanted to her know, she'd know. My dad got me tickets to see my local race with him, she replied, pausing her makeup to concentrate on talking to him.
There was a beat before he responded. You still there? She asked, pausing on her eye liner.
What race? Cars or horses?
Cars, she responded.
Again, there was a moment of silence. But then, Not the Formula One, right?
She thought back to what her father had told her. Yeah, the Formula One.
Her soulmate when quiet after that. There was a good few hours where she finished getting ready and went with her father to the race track. All that time she'd been trying to talk to her soulmate, and all that time she'd been getting nothing in return.
It was a little disheartening, thinking her soulmate didn't want to talk to her.
No, it was really disheartening.
As she and her father sat in the stands, she couldn't help but sulk. What had she done to upset him so bad he didn't want to hear from her? Of course he could hear everything she was thinking, but she didn't much care if he wasn't going to reply.
But then all twenty cars were on the track and the lights were flashing red, ready to go green.
I'm going to win this one for you.
It had been so unexpected, it nearly had her jumping out of her seat. What? Are you here?
As soon as I'm standing on that podium, you'll know it's me.
She must have realised it then, that her soulmate was down in the number on Red Bull car. She didn't take her eyes off of it for the entirety of the race (unless she was forced to). Holy shit, that was her soulmate down there.
And he did win it. Won it for her. She watched it all, him finishing first, the podium celebrations.
How do I get to you? She asked as she hopelessly looked around. Max Verstappen was her freaking soulmate!
Stay right where you are, schat. I'll come to you.
She told him where she was, apparently able to do that now she knew for sure who her soulmate was. And there she waited as he finished a debrief with the team and got changed.
But then he was striding towards her, cap pulled low. For so many years he'd been just a voice in her head. And now he was in front of her. Smiling down at her with surprise in his eyes.
"You're beautiful." Those were the first words he said to her, the first words that weren't echoing around her head.
"So are you." Wiping her hands on her jeans, she held one out and gave him her name.
Max took her hand and shook. "I'm Max," he said, wearing his usual pretty smile.
Holy fuck, Max Verstappen really was her soulmate.
#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x you#mv1#mv1 imagine#mv1 x reader#mv33#mv33 imagine#mv33 x reader#f1#formula one#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula one imagine#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#soulmate au
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Fucking a curse
Choso x F!Reader
A/n: This is part of my 'Sex' event and collab with other writers!! Please check out the other amazing works here
Synopsis: Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine a curse like Choso could give you the best orgasm of your life
Warnings: Rough sex, intense orgasm
~
For a curse, Choso was strangely incredibly attractive.
At least that was your first impression of him. His long black stringy hair, tied into two high ponytails that jutted upward and outward, and his small dark purple tired eyes, framed by slightly thin eyebrows, yes, from the moment you laid eyes on him you were smitten.
But for someone so breathtaking, Choso's reserved nature served as a stark opposite to his striking appearance. He was fairly quiet, rarely speaking, and often seemed content to observe rather than participate. For a while, he barely seemed to acknowledge you outside of your relationship with Yuji and your crush on him looked painfully one-sided. As a curse, it was easy to assume that he didn't care about you, that your presence was just another detail in his world of silence and observation. it was only natural that you would assume he wanted nothing, or rather, knew, nothing about intimacy.
So how... how did you get in this situation?
"Hngh...." you whine. Everything was hot, too hot. You dizzily look up, breath catching as you see Choso face hovering above you. His dark brown hair clings to his sweat-dampened skin and his eyes gaze down upon you with such raw dirty need that you feel your stomach twist into knots and your pulse quicken.
You are about to say something, something about how hot you are when suddenly you feel Choso's cock head harshly plunge deep into your entrance, the tip pressing against a part of you that you could only dream about reaching with your fingers. The pleasure of the sudden intrusion is striking, numbing, and borderline painful. It makes you reel unconsciously reel back to escape the foreign feeling, but a large strong hand splays itself over your stomach, not only stopping you but applying delicious pressure above where his dick sat deeply in you.
"Can't stay still can you?" Choso's voice comes out breathless, a failed attempt to mask how entirely aroused he is right now. He picks up the pace and leans down until his lips are against the nape of your neck. You whine when you feel soft kisses peppered all over your skin, a shockingly tender yet bold exploration; each nibble and kiss perfectly attuned to your responses, drawing you deeper into a state of blissful surrender. Your cunt flutters and clenches instinctively, sending even more bolts of hot ticklish pleasure to your core.
You are too lost in the pleasure to notice that Choso had placed his hand under one of your thighs, lifting the leg until it's pressed against your chest. The new position allows him to go deeper, which you didn't even know was possible at this point.
"Ah- God, you feel like heaven Y/N" Choso groans and throws his head back. You could almost cum just by looking at Choso because god he looks almost ethereal as he thrusts into you. His pale skin glistens with sweat, each muscle in his abdomen tightening rhythmically with every thrust. His lips part slightly, revealing shallow, hurried breaths. The subtle bobbing of his Adam's apple accompanies each pant, his eyes tightly shut, lost in the throes of pleasure.
"I wannaaaa...." You can't even say the last word because you're afraid it might ruin how fucking euphoric you feel right now. If there was a heaven, being fucked by Choso was it. What was even happening right now? Where were you? You feel so much, you feel everything, everywhere, all in this moment, but your mind and your mouth have never been taught to name this sensation.
"Please, Jesus, please y/n do it." Hes almost whining at this point.
"Choso I'm-" You are not even able to finish the sentence because you are already climaxing on his dick. Choso's ministrations don't cease, in fact he speeds up, making the insanely euphoric wave of pleasure crash down on you even harder. Your mind is blank, your thighs are shaking and your back arches of the bed as Choso fucks you through the most pleasurable feeling you have ever experienced.
"Stay with me baby, we are not done yet."
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#choso x reader#choso smut#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#choso kamo#jjk choso#jujutsu kaisen choso
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but daddy i love him [guilty as sin part two] | charles leclerc social media au
pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader
when an unstoppable force (the sainz men when they feel aggrieved) meets an immovable object (charles and y/n)
MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | TIP JAR
carlossainz55
liked by landonorris, marcmarquez93 and 783,409 others
carlossainz55: never forget where you came from
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user100: insert cricket noises here
user101: who on your PR team said this was a good idea?
user102: they need to be fired, sorry not sorry
landonorris: i love your dad (tell him to stop beating me at golf)
carlossainz55: if he never lets me win he's definitely never letting you win
landonorris: so unfair i thought i was the third sainz sibling :(
carlossainz55: i'm an only child
landonorris: oh-
user103: i need this man to choke i'm being so serious rn
user104: that's so unbelievably fucked
user105: the fact his dad is probably co-signing this shit is insane that's YOUR DAUGHTER
user106: also someone give lando a lil slap around he's on the wrong side of history on this one
yourusername: scandal does funny things to pride
carlossainz55: if the scandal is betraying your family that's all you
yourusername: if we're talking about betrayal then that's your specialist subject mr. i've cheated on every girl i've ever been with - and while we're on the topic of betrayal, yes i was the one who told them
carlossainz55: i've never cheated why are you stooping to lies?
yourusername: you did it right in front of my face when i was a part of this family
carlossainz55: so you've always been comfortable going behind my back
yourusername: that's the thing, when you're treated like you don't exist by your family you learn that blood is not thicker than water
carlossainz55: i can't wait for charles to cheat on you
yourusername: btw i already called marca, they know any of those allegations from you or dad are false - good luck!
user10: obvs i know they should be doing this in private but MORE DRAMA FOR ME BABY LETS KEEP THIS GOING
user107: thank you for the validation y/n i KNEW THE SHIT STIRRING COMING FROM THAT PAPER WAS THE SAINZ CAMP
user108: and they've got the nerve to be talking about stooping - the call is coming from inside the house
maxverstappen1: ugly twins
carlossainz55: really?
maxverstappen1: i said what i said and i mean what i said
carlossainz55: i would say she's not going to fuck you bro but you really never know with her
maxverstappen1: she would never, homewrecking is a trait only the male sainzs seem to have
user109: OOP
user110: max is a real lestappen queen fighting the battles he knows charles can't
yourusername
liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 893,405 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername: if you know within one glimpse, its legendary
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user114: i love how she goes from fighting her brother in one comment section to just showing off her hot bf
user115: tbf charles does have a face you'd go to war for so i get her
user116: i'd abandon my family for that face
yourusername: finally someone who fucking gets it
charles_leclerc: you made me believe in love at first sight
yourusername: awwwwww you're such a sweet talker the REAL smooth operator
pierregasly: i can verify it was love at first sight cause the man did not SHUT THE FUCK UP about you well... ever
charles_leclerc: is it a crime to love my girlfriend?
pierregasly: apparently!
yourusername: he's too cute to go to jail :(
charles_leclerc: they'd ruin me
yourusername: that's my job 🤨
pierregasly: you keep that to yourselves
user117: does this girl need to shade carlos on every single fucking post... yeah we get it he's the only reason you're relevant but god you reek of desperation
oscarpiastri: is this carlos' burner account?
user118: are the grid just sat around waiting to be tagged in to the fight against carlos?
oscarpiastri: what's he going to do? crash into me? he does that every weekend anyway
user119: uh oh carlos oscar is finally fighting back off track what are you going to do
user120: don't worry i'm sure he'll post a selfie with lando and try the whole carlando shtick to get some more PR points
maxverstappen1: oh this was not the shit slinging post i was hoping for
yourusername: something tells me you're having way too much fun with this
maxverstappen1: yeah you might have been abandoned by your family but have YOU considered that this is letting me express all my mean girl energy off track so i am level-headed on track
maxverstappen1: actually i don't even think i'm being mean tbf
yourusername: i'm glad my suffering could be your therapy
carlossainz55: BOO HOO you're not suffering ... it's something called the consequences of your actions (read: actions being a snakey slut)
yourusername: bro over here acting like i committed fratricide
maxverstappen1: TAP ME IN
maxverstappen1: not this man talking about the consequences of actions. kids, here's a little life lesson: if you spend all your time at your current job talking about how you have a much better job waiting for you and how you're too big for this job and plant stories about your co-workers, you can't be surprised that that same job doesn't want to keep you
carlossainz55: i am better than charles
yourusername: lying is a sin
maxverstappen1: and you're going straight to hell
user121: you guys might be mourning the loss of charlos (whatever the fuck that is) but i'm celebrating the absolute shit ton of LESTAPPEN we're getting
user122: max was like oh my bff is dating charles here's my excuse to be nice about him again
user123: if we're being real here the biggest crime of this whole situation is the fact that charles can't really dig the knife in
user124: @ silvia i have maybe £4.50 and a greggs sausage roll to my name but PLEASE LET CHARLES TAP IN
f1
liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 1,298,006 others
tagged: oscarpiastri & carlossainz55
f1: f1... the sport that gives you just as much drama off track as we do on track!
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user125: at this point even before the whole carlos ousting his sister i think oscar was about 👌🏻 this close to rocking carlos nascar style we should let him do it
user126: i will personally pay his legal fees tbh
oscarpiastri: i'm only 23 i don't need two F1-related legal cases to my name
yourusername: i've watched legally blonde about ten billion times let me represent you
oscarpiastri: yeah sounds legit
user127: THAT'S IT WE NEED PROXIMITY CHAT IN F1
user128: the way we know there was a shit talking session like no other after this race
maxverstappen1: i don't kiss and tell but well - yes!
user128: okay since this is clearly a safe space... who was there please spill mr. verstappen
maxverstappen1: ME! charles, pierre, oscar, checo, alex and george!
user128: why the fuck were the last two there?
georgerussell63: i was on official GDPA duty 🤓
alexalbon: that's a lie we're just very nosey
yourusername: they're the biggest PTA moms ever don't even lie
georgerussell63: yes i'll make allergy friendly cupcakes for the bake sale but i'll also spit in them and gossip about your cheating husband - sorry about it!
alexalbon: he's not
georgerussell63: i'm not
user129: carlos slagging off y/n but she's really brought the grid together
user130: george and alex being like we do not care about that but we do want the latest scoop
alexalbon: oh don't get it twisted we're firmly team y/n
user131: we even got the f1 admin in on the drama
carlossainz55: she's probably fucking them as well
yourusername: BORING get a new bit babe
carlossainz55: if i see whore i'm going to say whore
yourusername: aren't you still in that damn stewards office?
carlossainz55: tell your little lap dog to keep his front wing away from my car and maybe i wouldn't
oscarpiastri: suck my dick
yourusername: now that's true poetry
user132: oH!
yourusername
liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 763,409 others
tagged: charles_leclerc, logansargent & oscarpiastri
yourusername: florida !!!!!!!!!!! is one hell of a drug. no seriously what is in the water here i keep picking up these little guys everywhere i go
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user135: she's really like i AM spanish and i will colonise this grid
user136: stealing all the lil cuties for her cause
oscarpiastri: proud to be a part of this weird little circus thing we've got going on
yourusername: oh dibs on ring master
logansargent: i feel like my name is written all over tight rope walking
yourusername: okay yes skinny legend
maxverstappen1: obvs we're a cruelty free circus so no lions but if there were lions, that's me babe
maxverstappen1: SOME people could learn... cough, cough trophy hunters
charles_leclerc: idk i'll just take the one where i can sit there and be pretty
yourusername: and you would be the best at it
oscarpiastri: which one does the least? i'll take that one
user137: bro can we slow the fuck down i was just getting over osc telling carlos to suck his dick now we're talking CIRCUS?
user138: for real couldn't it have at least been cabaret i wanna see ALL of that
charles_leclerc: 🤨
carlossainz55: i think a circus is a perfect way to describe your desperate attempt to stay relevant
yourusername: don't you have a job to go to? oh wait...
carlossainz55: as if i'm threatened by a group with the likes of logan sargent in it
logansargent: bit harsh, i'm a nice guy (unlike some)
yourusername: carlos here's a little bit of a wild thing i'm about to introduce to you.... people have friends?
yourusername: also you WISH you had a face card like logie
carlossainz55: i have friends?
yourusername: no you have PR strategies, there's a difference
carlossainz55: bro learnt the word PR and ran with it
yourusername: tell me one person who would let you crash on their couch?
yourusername: QUICKLY.
fernandoalo_oficial: and don't even think about mentioning me
user139: she hit him with the bianca del rio
user140: OOP and also nando just popping up out of nowhere to diss carlos and never say anything again
charles_leclerc: the drug in question being puppy fever
maxverstappen1: tell me you didn't get a dog
yourusername: boy do i have news for you
carlossainz55: are you trying to baby trap him
yourusername: first woman in history to birth a dog you heard it here first
charles_leclerc: you simply can't be babytrapped when you would literally jump off a bridge if asked to
user141: @myboyfriend TAKE NOTES HONEY ^^^
charles_leclerc
liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,745,093 others
tagged: yourusername & oscarpiastri
charles_leclerc: two kids in one month? someone stop us
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user142: y/n really lost an apartment and a brother and gained about 27 f1 drivers and a dog
user143: glow up of the century some might say
liked by charles_leclerc
yourusername: soz it's a coping mechanism
charles_leclerc: and that's okay <3
maxverstappen1: anything to help with that emotional CONSTIPATION
yourusername: have you tried to live with those narcissistic and emotionally unavailable men?
maxverstappen1: you're asking the wrong person that question honey
yourusername: girl are WE good?
maxverstappen1: no
yourusername: BUT THAT'S OKAY
charles_leclerc: not to rain on this parade but i think therapy would really be a positive move here
user144: i feel bad for charles cause i know these hoes are the type to just tell each other EXACTLYYYYY when they make poor decisions
maxverstappen1: true, no smart bitches would let their bff live with THAT man
yourusername: and let their bff constantly chat shit and ruin their image
maxverstappen1: can't ruin my image if i'm spitting FACTS
user145: max will nawt let this go
maxverstappen1: i'll forget you but i'll never forgive the smallest man who ever lived
yourusername: GIRL
maxverstappen1: whoops, one sec. spoiler alert: y/n unleased poetry. trigger warning: c*rlos s*inz
olliebearman: ollie bearman erasure
charles_leclerc: GASP OLLIE I AM SO SORRY
yourusername: no he actually is he's crying
charles_leclerc: it's the pregnancy hormones
olliebearman: it's okay i swear
charles_leclerc: I'M A TERRIBLE FATHER
carlossainz55: i could've told you that for free
olliebearman: why are you in our family buisness
user146: charles is channelling all of his carlos rage through ollie oh my
olliebearman: i am a happy conduit for my father who is in the ferrari PR jail
yourusername: can we send carlos here and throw away the key?
user147: charles is really out there like keep my girl's name out of your mouth cause even the bitch who stole your seat for a weekend is my SON
user148: y/n wasn't joking about with this grid domination
user149: but also i'm glad all of this fun stuff is happening amongst all of the shit that's been thrown at her from her family
oscarpiastri: a leclerc and proud (i race like my dad and throw shade like my mum)
yourusername: the best way to be
charles_leclerc: proud of you, you're such a good dog brother :)
oscarpiastri: i've just learnt to be patient after alpine and lando
yourusername: you still took your shoes being leo's personal bathroom really well
oscarpiastri: he's too cute to be mad at
yourusername
liked by maxverstappen, charles_leclerc and 824,109 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername: first mother's day with my boys
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user150: gonna enjoy this super wholesome post before... he... ruins it
user151: manifesting a y/n post without that bitter old hag in the comment section
charles_leclerc: the best mother for our fur baby and our miscellaneous other children
yourusername: only the best with you :(
charles_leclerc: ugh i love you so much
yourusername: i love you even more
user152: they're so fucking cute
user153: damn carlos i too would be angry if my baby sister and my teammate outshined my third PR relationship in six months
user154: the sainz family have generational levels of hating, but one does it for good (poetry) and one does it for bad (anything carlos ever says)
oscarpiastri: happiest mother's day to my grid mum! here's to reading them to filth xx
yourusername: OSC!! i always knew you were my favourite aussie
danielricciardo: did my enchante PR mean nothing?
yourusername: i mean i wear it all of the time... but it's osc ...
danielricciardo: true, i broke my hand before i could even think of accidentally hurting him
user155: also babe is looking so unbothered, moisturised and free we need the skin care routine
oscarpiastri: the tears of carlos sainz
yourusername: and cleansing your life of toxic family members
user156: okay clearly oscar was done with the whole "i'm so chill" bit cause since his adoption by charles and y/n he's been non stop on carlos' neck
oscarpiastri: i'm a ride or die for my mum cry about it
maxverstappen1: as the kids would say ... mother is mothering? @olliebearman did i do it right?
charles_leclerc: stop trying to steal my kids
maxverstappen1: BRO I'M TRYING TO COMPLIMENT YOUR GIRLFRIEND
charles_leclerc: that's literally my job 🤨
yourusername: tbf i'll take as many compliments as i can
charles_leclerc: are mine not enough?
yourusername: when you've got a self esteem this low, you gotta take what you can get
charles_leclerc: oh :(
user157: max and y/n fighting over who trauma dumps more about their upbringing
carlossainz55: this bit is very tiring. you'll be a terrible mother and all these people you think are your friends will drop you as soon as they know who you really are.
yourusername: you done?
carlossainz55: as you loveeeee to point out, i don't have much to lose anymore so i really wouldn't test me
yourusername: trying to make me homeless and stealing all of my money wasn't enough?
carlossainz55: charles will know the truth soon enough and you won't have us to come crying to
yourusername: i'll take those chances thank you
user158: hold ON what do you mean stole all her money
yourusername: i was never allowed my own bank account so all my earnings have gone to them!
user159: okay that's it WE RIDE AT DAWN
fin.
note: oh girl life has been BUSY!!! i just got a new job and have been looking desperately for a flat to move out to. also i've had family visiting and going here, there and everywhere. but i hope you enjoy! this was a lil more light-hearted lol (until the end) so enjoy the addition of the leclerc family lore xx
ALSO i wanted to say a massive THANK YOU FOR 6,000 FOLLOWERS love you all <3
taglist: @aadu2173@rhythmstars@kqliie@booksandflowrs@2bormaybenot @firelily-mimi @evie-119 @mehrsdigitaldiary @sltwins @bibissparkles @evans-dejong @eiaaasamantha @23victoria @halleest @venusacrossthestars @boywondrgrayson @rare2306 @charlesgirl16 @reguluscrystals @hiireadstuff @destinyg237 @mael1pastry @sweet-creature98 @changetyre @eclipsedcherry @its-elias-world @brune77e @exotic-iris13 @woozarts @alenix @minkyungseokie @sheridamn @boherahpsody @jaydaaasworld @e-nonsense @vogueprincess @loloekie @dckgzz @cluvsya @amberpanda99 @apollosfavkiddo @lyraconstellation @marshmummy @casperlikej @softtina @gabys-gabs @happyhoganluvr @sesamepancakes @mehrmonga @hdigditditdjgd @elijahslover @k4marina @velentine @callsignwidow @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @thetorturedblogger @bwormie @moldyshorts1997 @mellowarcadefun @ietss @cecedrake2217 @charllleclerc @golden-hoax @nikfigueiredo
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#f1 social media au#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#astonmartinii
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Mafia!Bucky’s Girl gets Arrested
Mafia!Buckys Girl gets Arrested M-Board
Warning:Police Brutality, DD/LG dynamics and Daddy Kink, Protective Bucky and Mafia!Bucky (which is its own warning)
She always knew that it was a possibility but it never really crossed her mind as something that was going to happen. Ever since getting with her Mob Boss boyfriend, the man who had decided she belonged to him the second he set eyes on her and stalked her relentlessly until she finally agreed to be his girl, she had almost always been right by his side.
Bucky knew that Y/n was as loyal as they come and he didn’t doubt her love for him or her dedication for even a second, but he still didn’t want her out of his sight. There are plenty of men out there who want to hurt James Barnes and he refuses to see his Princess be a victim of an idiot with a vendetta or to even see an ounce of pain on her perfect face.
This day however, it was unavoidable.
Bucky had a delivery that needed to be picked up and he had to oversee it personally, something he wouldn’t bring his girl along for and so he gave her a Black Amex that he had just for her and dropped her off at her favorite outlet. He knew that she could shop around there for hours and that she gladly would until he picked her up later that evening.
‘Stay in public Princess, don’t go anywhere outside of this outlet, understand?’ Bucky warned, opening her car door and helping her out.
‘Yes Buck, I promise I will stay here. You know I’ll shop for a few outfits before ending up in the bookstore for the rest of the time.’ She teased making the notoriously angry Mob Boss smile. He had recently cleared out an entire bedroom in his mansion and lined it with wall to wall bookshelves so that she could have her own perfect reading room. She was fixing it up exactly how she wanted to make it perfect and was spending a lot of his money to give herself a library, apparently needing 1000 books before it actually counted as one (not that he minded spending money on her, especially not for something that made her so happy and often inspired new things to try in the bedroom thanks to her Dark Romance books).
‘That’s where I will pick you up, okay? I’ll text you when I’m finished and you meet me here, okay?’
‘Yes Daddy.’ She teased, knowing how much he loved it when she called him that as she pulled him down to her by his suit jacket and pressed her lips to his. ‘You’d better make sure you’re done all your work by the time you pick me up because you’re all mine for the next 2 days.’
‘Yes ma’am. I promised you a nice, quiet weekend just the two of us and I meant it.’ With all the extra time Bucky had been working after one of his biggest allies was arrested, he needed to make it up to his Princess and he had sworn that after the delivery he was all hers for the entire weekend. ‘I’ll see you soon Babygirl.’ With that he kissed her nose and hopped back into the car, leaving his girl to shop for the afternoon.
Y/n spent about 2 hours in her favorite stores getting several outfits and even stopping to pick up a few new lingerie sets that she knew her Daddy would love before entering the bookstore. By the time she had been there for an hour she had purchased 11 books and could be found sitting in a chair by the window with a hot chocolate and a muffin, reading to her hearts content. And that is exactly where they found her.
‘Y/n L/n?’ Y/n looked up to see a small women with her hair pulled into a ponytail holding a badge out to her and couldn’t help the confused look on her face.
‘Um…can I help you officer?’ She couldn’t help her confusion, she hadn’t done anything to warrant being spoken to by the police.
‘Get up!’ The man beside her barked, pulling out handcuffs and yanking her up from her chair causing her to cry out, the scalding hot drink spilling on her hand as she was moved violently.
‘Ow! What the fuck?! You can’t treat people like this! I haven’t done anything wrong, and even if I had you didn’t even give me a chance to comply! Ow!’ The cuffs went on painfully tight as her arm was twisted at an odd angle.
‘Hey, you can’t treat her like that!’ A barista spoke up, phone in hand and recording the interaction.
‘Mind your business unless you would like to join her!’ The man barked, his partner staying quiet.
‘Okay, you need to grab my stuff at least, I have bags there. Hello?! So not only are you violent, you’re deaf and stupid, good to know.’ She groaned.
‘We’ll hold your things in the back. You come and get them whenever you can.’ The same barista said, following with her phone as she was dragged out.
‘Thank you. My boyfriend will be by looking for me when I don’t answer him, my phone is in one of the bags! I-the least you can do is let me make sure my stuff is taken care off asshole!’ The next thing Y/n knew she was slammed against the police car, her face suffering the brunt of the hit as it collided.
‘Y/n L/n, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.’ The women spoke, reading her her rights as she was put into the car. ‘Do you understand these rights as I’ve read them to you?’
‘Do I also have the right to not have your boorish partner throw me around like I’m his red headed step child? I don’t think that was in there. I’m not saying anything to you, and I haven’t done a single thing wrong.’
‘Sweetie, you’ve been doin’ shit wrong since you said “yes” to a date with James Barnes.’ The asshole spoke, starting the car and driving away from the bookstore.
‘Oh, now I understand. You don’t have shit on my boyfriend who you think is some kind of criminal for some unknown reason and so because you’re so shit at your job you violently arrest his innocent girlfriend. Gotcha.’
‘You ain’t been innocent since you started suckin’ his cock. You know it, he buys you pretty things and you stick your tongue out. You’re an expensive whore and nothing more-‘
‘That’s enough Tanner!’ His partner snapped and she listened to them argue about Bucky while trying to get feeling back into her arms and hands that she was leaning on with her knees pressed painfully to the cage between the front and back seat, all the while blood was leaking down her face and onto her sundress. It was sad, this was one of Bucky’s favorites, she only wore it because she knew he was supposed to pick her up to start their long weekend together.
She was led into the precinct pretty easily before walking through the bullpen and seeing multiple cops that she knew Bucky employed. She pushed down the instinct to smile knowing that they wouldn’t get ahold of Bucky or Steve tonight but also knowing someone would call Andy. She had met Andy several times and loved Steve’s twin brother dearly, knowing that if anything ever happened that Andy Barber would be the one getting her out of it. He had taken his wife’s name in law school to get away from his “criminal” last name of Rogers and yet he still represented them as he knew he always would.
‘Sit here, I’ll get something to wipe off your face-‘
‘No thank you, I’ll stay like this. I don’t need your help.’ Y/n told the women who looked at her sideways. ‘I’ll wait until I’m out of here and my lawyer can see the state that 2 police officers put me in just to arrest a women who was perfectly cooperative. He’s going to have a field day with your department.’ She glared, now seemingly pissed off herself, slapping a folder in front of her and opening it to show her pictures of her and Bucky together. One was him helping her out of the car, one was them walking into a premier, her boyfriends arm around her waist possessively as it was in every single picture they had.
‘Seems like he’s pretty taken with you.’ Y/n raised her eyebrows, not willing to say anything about Bucky what so ever. ‘Just like he was with this girl, and this one-‘ she showed pictures of two other girls with Bucky from before they were together. Bucky and Y/n had had the “Ex’s Talk” and they were both honest about past relationships but the thing that sealed it for Y/n right now was that seeing Bucky with these women, he didn’t hold them like he held her. It wasn’t even close to the same and if ever there was doubt that she would rat on her man (which there wasn’t) there sure as fuck wasn’t any now. ‘Let us help you get away from him, he’s a bad man. He’s killed people, God only knows how many of them.’
‘Oh My God!’ Y/n exclaimed, looking at one of the pictures and while the cop seemed to think she was getting through for a single second she was quickly proved wrong. ‘I was having a really bad hair day. Do you think we could get rid of this one? I just look awful.’
‘You’re not taking this seriously at all.’
‘No, and I’m not going to. You assaulted me, violently dragged me in here and now you’re questioning me about my boyfriend like he’s some kind of criminal! He is the sweetest man alive and he would never hurt anyone, now, I’m not going to be saying anything else without my lawyer.’ Her partner scoffed as he stood by the door watching this go on.
‘Yeah, we’ll see how quickly we get around to calling him.’ He laughed and Y/n just rolled her eyes.
‘He’ll be here soon enough.’ She mumbled.
‘What was that?! What are you mumbling you little bitch, if you think for one fucking minute that we give a shit about that murderers whore you’re wrong, and he ain’t gonna save you either! We’ll let you sit in here for days and guess what? Eventually you’re gonna give him up! Just to see daylight again!’ The officer raged before pulling his partner out and slamming the door shut, all lights but one going out and leaving Y/n in almost complete darkness.
She couldn’t tell you how long she sat there in the dark, quiet room just staring at the window mirror. It felt like hours by the time the door opened again and the lights were thrown on making her squint as her eyes adjusted to the harsh brightness. Y/n could hear a familiar voice screaming and the look of apprehension on the women’s face was fantastic after her treatment.
Suddenly a man who looked way too much like Steve stormed in and took in Y/n’s appearance. ‘Jesus! She’s fucking bloody, you have got to be fucking with me if you think this is alright Captain! Uncuff her this instant!’ Andy demanded and the large cop gave him an angry look before doing as he was told, the “discreet” look from his Captain being enough to spur him into action. ‘Are you alright Miss. L/n? Do we need to go to the ER?’ He offered but she shook her head.
‘No Andy, they offered to wash the blood off, I just wanted you to see where they had slammed me into their car.’ He nodded, making a gesture that told her to be quiet and tell him everything somewhere else.
‘I’m taking my client home. I will expect the recording of this interrogation, all of it, every second, to be sent to my office by morning. If even one second is off I won’t stop until this precinct is a fucking In-n-Out burger! Now fuck off!’ Andy took Y/n’s hand and pulled her along gently, not wanting to hurt her anymore than she already was. ‘You did well, I want to take a few pictures of you to have it documented, then we’ll get you cleaned up.’ She nodded along as they exited the building and moved to his car where he took pictures of her face at every angle as well as her bruised wrists and burned hand.
They had just gotten into the car when Andy’s phone began ringing Bucky’s tone and he put it on Speaker immediately. ‘Andy! She’s Gone! You Need To Get Her Back Andy! I Can’t-‘
‘Boss! It’s okay! I got her, I got a call from Officer Bowers when they walked her in.’ She nodded along.
‘He called right away, I saw a few cops that recognized me and the looks on their faces were priceless.’ She joked, hoping to pull a laugh from Bucky but it did not happen.
‘Princess! Are you okay? I swear to God, if they hurt you-‘
‘It’s okay Daddy. Stay at the bookstore, Andy’s dropping me off there, he wants to talk to the barista who recorded my arrest. She was nice, she promised to hold all my bags until you got there.’ She realized as she heard her Daddy’s voice how badly she had just wanted to fall into his arms and cry herself to sleep.
‘Okay Babygirl, I’ll get your stuff into the car. Get her here Andy, now!’ Her Daddy demanded before hanging up the phone, clearly upset.
It took another 10 minutes to get to the store and the second Y/n crossed the threshold she was grabbed and pulled into Bucky’s arms. He was warm and strong, just like every time he held her but this time she needed him to hold her like he never had before as she felt her mind sink back to that small, regressed place that she didn’t go to very often and it was like her Daddy physically felt it happen as her mind receded back into her safe space.
‘Daddy’s here Babygirl. Your Daddy’s got you, not a thing to worry about.’ He swore, not even caring about the fact that he’s in public as he lifted his girl into his arms and cradled her like an infant. ‘Daddy’s gonna take you home now Baby, gonna go home and get you in your jammies, and all snuggled up in the blankies.’ Bucky turned and walked back out the door from where Y/n had just come, Steve promptly opening the back door and letting his boss climb in before going back to start the SUV. ‘Is my Baby hungry? Daddy has food being made right now for my Princess’ dinner.’
‘So hungry!’ She groaned, clutching to his suit jacket and nuzzling close to his warm body.
‘We’re gonna get you all fed and snuggly warm in our bed baby, don’t you worry. I love you so much, Daddy is gonna make sure those awful cops are taken care of…do you want to talk about it?’ She pouted in response and he brushed his fingers through her hair to comfort her.
‘They were all rough and mean. Showed me pictures of us and pictures of you with your other girlfriends to make me talk bad about you.’ Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes.
‘Clearly they’re morons if they thought my Princess would turn on me.’ He chuckled at the absurdity of the idea. He knew how loyal his girl was, and he knew that (despite the fact that he would never let it happen) she would have gone to jail and kept quiet the whole time. ‘Don’t worry baby, this whole week is all about Daddy loving on you. Okay? You’re gonna be sick of my hugs by the end ‘cause I’ve rescheduled all of my meetings and appointments. It’s all about you now.’
‘Could never be sick of you, Daddy. I love you so much!’ She swore, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in his heavy scent. As always he smelled like peppermint and his cologne which was very earthy and smoky which he knew his Babygirl loved, however after having been working tonight she could also smell gunpowder which would have made her ask questions and worry if she weren’t completely at the mercy of her regression right now.
Bucky pressed his lips to her forehead for several seconds as Steve pulled up the driveway and finally parked outside of the cabin style mansion in the woods. Her Daddy knew it was her favorite one of his houses to spend time at which is why he picked it for the weekend before extending it to the entire week after watching her arrest video and the interrogation video that Andy sent him just before they got to the bookstore. Some of her comments genuinely made him chuckle, and he was so proud to hear her defense of him and wonderful acting as she could have really convinced people that her boyfriend was just a sweet business man being targeted by the police maliciously. However after seeing how they treated her, Bucky knew that she would be needing his love and comfort, hating to hear that they had called her a whore and tried to make her think that he was just using her for her body.
As they laid in bed that night after her Daddy had fed her dinner and given her a bath filled with bubbles and sweet smelling bath salts he held her tightly to his chest, caressing her bare thigh as she snuggled him in her panties and one of his Henley’s (which was his favorite outfit to see her in of all time, including both fancy dresses or lingerie).
‘You know that your Daddy loves you more than anything else in this world, don’t you Princess?’
‘Mmhmm…’ she mumbled, half asleep already, Bucky’s ability to make her feel safe and comfortable enough to sleep so quickly being a subject of great pride for him.
‘And you know that you’re not a whore…I mean, sometimes I enjoy it when you’re Daddy’s good little whore but…you know you are so much more than that to me, right?’ She nodded into his chest subtly and he momentarily wondered if she even knew what he was saying.
‘Not a whore. Just Daddy’s whore…I love you Daddy.’
‘I love you too Princess. You sleep now, you can be Daddy’s good little whore in the morning…’ he promised, hearing her little moan and kissing her head before pulling the covers around her tighter, allowing himself to drift off to sleep with his Baby safe in his arms.
Bucky Barnes Masterlist
#marvel#marvel fic#marvel imagine#the winter soldier imagine#the winter soldier#winter soldier imagine#the avengers#mafia au#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia!bucky#mafia bucky x reader#mafia bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky imagine#bucky barnes imagine#bucky fic#james barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#mob boss!bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#Sebastian Stan#bucky barnes smut#mafia!bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#mafia imagine
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Tiktok pranks w/ Emily
I saw someone else do stuff similar to this and I wanted to try it but with Emily, pls don’t take this as copying or wtv 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾😖😖😖
Calling Emily another girl’s name
You set up your phone in the kitchen as Emily’s back is turned, the phone is set to record and you make sure it’s hidden so she doesn’t spot it. Quickly smiling at the camera you pretend to be casual and silent for a second before speaking up.
“Hey, Ella- I mean Em can you pass me a bowl?” you mumble slightly to disguise the “mistake”
Emily’s head whips around at breakneck speed and you fight the urge to laugh as you see the look on her face “Who?”
“You? Babe, who else”
“You said Ella, who the fuck is Ella?”
“I said Em pass me a bowl, so can you pass me a bowl?” you’re lips quiver as your composure and need to laugh heightens
“I literally just heard you call me Ella”
“Dude I didn’t and I just want my bowl so come on”
“I’m ‘dude’ now?”
“Ell- Emily I’m being serious I just want the stupid bowl for my cereal” you turn around to laugh, covering it with a cough
“You just fucking did it again!! You gotta be joking with me right now bruh, ain’t no way in hell…” Her voice raises in pitch and that’s what finally breaks you, you burst out laughing and grab your phone. Shoving it in her face as she quickly turns red from the embarrassment.
“I pranked your ass, I pranked your ass!” you laugh and sing song as you leave the kitchen.
“Fuckin’ whatever dude” she scoffs
“Oh so I’m dude now?” you mock her quickly in return then run up to her with your arms wide as a silent apology.
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Calling Emily you’re friend to get her reaction
You have your phone propped up on your vanity mirror, bare faced and starting to film your GRWM (with a fun little prank in the middle)
Emily had just walked into frame as she’s already done getting ready before you, like always. She always has to make her presence known in your videos to keep the horny singles out of your comments.
“Alright everyone get ready with me! Today me and my friend,” you make it obvious as you point to Emily who’s head is down while she scrolls through her phone “are heading out to get some food and shop. Just like a cute little day outing”
Emily immediately takes notice to your wording instantly, her head pops up and she makes eye contact with you through your vanity mirror. Her face is caked with confusion “Hold on.. your frien-“
You cut her off to continue the prank “I was thinking of doing an OOTD before we go so I’ll probably show y’all my friends fit first then mine”
Her face only scrunches up further as you continue to talk “Who- who’s your friend?”
“Huh? Hold on, let me finish the video and we can go” you say over your shoulder then turn back to the camera, grabbing a curling iron and beginning to wrap your strands of hair around it “you guys have been commenting on where I got my curling iron from and it was actually a gift from my bestie back there-“
You get cut off as Emily storms up to your phone, snatching it from the vanity as the camera is still rolling “Don’t know what the hell she’s talking about, we are NOT friends. I am her girlfriend, her girlfriend that she has se-“
You chase after her and grab the phone before she can finish that sentence “Okay!! Prank worked, by people” and quickly swipe from TikTok.
You’re pissing your pants laughing as you turn to look at Emily who doesn’t look as tickled as you.
You pout and exaggerate your puppy eyes, opening your arms for a hug “I’m sowy my wittle baby, don’t cwy”
She rolls her eyes “I’m leaving without you”
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hope you guys enjoyed!! this is the start of a few fics and hcs that i’m dropping right after this so look forward 🫡🤞🏾
#ncaa women’s basketball#women’s basketball#wnba#wlw#ncaa#emily engstler#emily engstler headcannons#emily engstler x reader
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siren steve and pirate eddie, part 2
pt 1
Steve heals slowly.
He’s irritable and restless, bedridden, and he doesn’t have the strength in his injured tail to support himself if he were to be tossed back into the ocean.
The crew helps him to the deck for a change of scenery and some sunshine - he seems more settled when he can hear the waves and feel the sun on his skin. He’s less snappish, at least, those sharp teeth tucked away behind his pink lips instead of bared in Eddie’s direction.
Eddie had panicked briefly about how much saltwater Steve needs, and he’d rolled his eyes at him. “Keep it near and I’ll be fine,” he tells him. “Half human remember?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, “but the fish part is looking a little dry, sweetheart.”
Steve slaps him with a tail fin.
He finds himself spending most days with the Mer. Part of it is pure fascination - it’s difficult to not want to spend time around a story come to life. And if he neglects his duties as Captain a little, well - that’s what his crew is for.
Slowly, he pulls more from Steve. He finds out what caused his injuries - “the deep holds a lot of creatures that like the taste of Mer,” he tells him. “I swam right into a nest. By the time I realized, they already had me by the throat and were dragging me to the seabed.”
“Gods,” Eddie murmurs, and Steve hums in agreement.
“Evil little things. Razor sharp claws and teeth, and their tails are like whips. They move in schools, so if there’s one, there’s dozens others.”
He speaks of these kinds of creatures so casually, monsters that have worked their way into human lore and others that are unknown to them, but the idea of them still makes Eddie’s skin crawl.
It’s like Steve has a sixth sense for his discomfort. He’s lounging in a long basin Freak and Jeff put together, a shallow amount of salt water in it to keep him comfortable, and he rolls his head to the side, peering up at Eddie.
“They probably wouldn’t turn down a human, either,” he muses, dragging those unnervingly deep eyes up and down him, “but your little lungs wouldn’t survive that deep down, so you’re probably fine.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Eddie snorts, and Steve breaks into a laugh.
As friendly as they’re becoming, Eddie knows Steve still doesn’t fully trust him. He’s excellent at reading people - he knows when someone is keeping secrets, and Steve is locked tight.
He doesn’t blame him. He knows it’s difficult to believe Eddie’s help doesn’t come with strings, and he catches Steve watching him and his crew sometimes, tense and on edge as if he’s waiting for someone to lash out at him.
Eddie hates it. But he doesn’t know how to settle him, not fully, and so maybe the solution is to craft those strings he’s looking so hard to find. Let him find what he’s looking for, but show him that they aren’t as bad as he’s built them up to be in that pretty head of his.
“So what other gifts are you blessed with, Highness?” he asks one cloudy day, the sky gloomy and overcast. A little rain won’t hurt them, but he’s hoping the darker clouds on the horizon will dissipate before they reach them and upend a true storm.
“Divination,” Steve says like he’s bored, and Eddie’s head whips around to stare at him. Steve holds his gaze, his own a little hooded, and he yawns softly.
“What,” Eddie asks flatly. Steve waves a hand dismissively.
“Just about the ocean,” he says, like that isn’t still one of the most incredible things Eddie’s ever heard. “I can tell when danger’s near. When something isn’t quite right. Whole lot of good it did me,” he snorts, glancing down at his scarred torso.
The bandages have been removed, and pink skin is healing slowly where there used to be gaping wounds. His tail is faring much the same, scales missing from where he’d been bitten and ripped at, but the new flesh is beginning to blend in with the bright shades of his lower half.
“Everything was dangerous down there, I just tried to pick the safest option. I’m still pretty sure I chose right.” Eddie frowns.
“You were almost eaten alive,” he says, can’t help it, and Steve cuts him a lazy smile.
“Almost,” he repeats, and Eddie supposes that’s an answer.
He takes a breath, calms his heart, and tries to act like the Captain he is. “So, if you stuck around, you’d be able to tell me what I’m heading towards.” Steve closes his eyes and lets his head hang back, arms resting on the sides of the basin.
“Yes.” A cloud sweeps over them, blocking the sun from shining on Steve’s face, casting him in shadows. “I could tell you if you were sailing into an ambush, or if the waters were acting up, or any number of other useful little tips that could keep you and your crew alive.”
“You’ve thought about this,” he says, and Steve snorts.
“Of course I have. I have no home. No family. Going alone almost got me killed. I’m pretty but I’m not dumb, Eddie.” He opens his eyes, fixing his gaze onto Eddie’s. “So how about we make a deal?” he offers, and Eddie grins.
It’s an easy negotiation. Steve wants freedom. He wants to see the world. And he wants safety while he does it. Eddie wants an advantage, wants to keep his crew safe, wants them to thrive in this difficult life they’ve chosen.
They shake on it. Steve moves lightning fast as their hands meet, a sharp claw nicking his own palm and then Eddie’s, making him hiss.
“Fuck–” he grunts. A burning sensation shoots through him from hand to chest, fire hot and searing. He gasps, fingers locked around Steve’s, who stares at him impassively. “What…?”
“You’ve made an oath with a Mer,” Steve says simply. “You’ll be held to your word, Captain Munson.”
Eddie pulls his hand away and looks at his palm.
A black mark surrounds the cut from Steve’s claw, a swirling spiral that snakes from the center of his palm in three little loops. Steve holds his hand out without being asked, showing the matching mark on his own skin.
Eddie’s no stranger to ink and tattoos, but this is decidedly different. It hums with an ancient kind of magic, a connection that he doesn’t - can’t - understand. Something unnameable settles into his bones.
This is a test, he realizes. Or maybe it’s insurance. Either way, it’s something Steve felt necessary to take Eddie at his word, and so he won’t ask questions - not yet, at least.
“Well, I’ve had worse deals, I guess,” he says, and when he meets Steve’s eyes again, some of the caution has seeped out of them.
Eddie’s sure there’s more to be found out about this creature in front of him, but contrary to popular belief, he can be patient when it counts.
For now he’ll take what he’s offered - a wary friendship. A slow-growing understanding. And a certain type of care, of gentleness, that curls warm within him and grows with every smile and soft look that Steve throws his way.
part 3 coming soon 💕 no tag lists, sorry!
#steddie#mermay#merman steve harrington#siren steve harrington#pirate eddie munson#steddie fic#steve/eddie#stevexeddie#mine
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my glorious queen plum🙏🏾🙏🏾would you be ever so kind and write a jealous toji fic? i understand if you’re busy and can’t get to this my queen but it would be very much appreciated if you did😍😍😍🙏🏾🙏🏾😊😊😊🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
toji didn't usually get jealous, but when he did, it was a shitshow. he did everything in his power to hold back the feelings he got when he saw someone a little bit too close for comfort near you and doing this weird thing called talking. he didn't like it; he loved when there were clear boundaries between not only him and other people but you and other people as well, and when those boundaries got crossed, it wasn't a good time—well, maybe for you.
one jealous fuck was nothing compared to the hundreds he had lined up because of everyone who tried to talk to you.
he didn't like to fuck you out of spite, but sometimes he just had to. you had a place, and he had to put you in it for you to understand. yes, most of the time the jealousy didn't come directly from what you were doing, but he always found himself having to prove to you time and time again whose pussy that was.
sometimes you would just get too close for comfort with the person you were with, and he would just go off the rails, snatching you up to take you home and fucking you until your legs were numb and you were blabbering, soaking in your fluids mixed with his cum. looking at you with piercing eyes, just to fuck you all over again.
some would say that he fucked you out of anger, but it was pure spite. if someone even walked up to you to utter one word, you should be walked away, but here you were with that beautiful smile on your face, speaking to said person.
you were caught on to how mad he got when he would fuck you after, and it felt so fucking good it had you moaning his name and the neighbors banging on the wall, telling him you would never do it again, but you were lying off your ass. you were going to do it again until you were satisfied. you couldn't help that the mad look that he got on his face whenever he would fuck you was sexy.
toji could get his emotions under control like a normal person, but he didn't want to. seeing you close to just anyone brought a boiling rage inside his body that he couldn't get rid of. luckily, he had an outlet for his anger, and that was you. instead of just causing a scene with said person, he caused a scene in bed with you, which was way more fun.
after fucking you for hours on end, he didn't really know what he gained from it besides getting you to cum on his dick multiple times; all he knew was that it felt good to rough you up a little. you didn't know what he gained either, but you loved it, craved it, and yearned for the sex where he was putting you through the mattress and making sure he fit every inch deep inside of you.
"is this what you wanted? hm? talk to me." while pushing himself into your sweet spot continually, you were so high on the pleasure that's all you could say—yes, that's exactly what you wanted. for him to fuck you out of your mind and make your legs sore.
sometimes sensual and slow wasn't always for you. you wanted him to pick you up and just fuck you, so you would have to take realistic measures to ensure that was going to happen, so you had to make him jealous. even when it was clear that he was trying not to get mad, he just failed miserably.
sometimes jealousy was a good thing.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#x reader#zenin toji#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jjk toji#toji smut#toji x you#toji zenin#fushiguro#fushiguro toji
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I’m obsessed with your dad!Anakin series.
I was thinking about maybe like a pool party? And he sees you in a skimpy swimsuit/ bikini and gets jealous, because how dare you advertise what’s his? So he pumps you full of cum and just make you go back to the party full🤭
18+, smut, dead dove do not eat, fauxcest/stepcest, slight exhibitionism.
Yummy ;) but I had a little thought to offer instead.
"You look like a slut, begging for attention," Dad!Anakin whispers against your neck, taking the beer from your trembling hand and sliding his hand down your back, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing it meanly. "Who gave you permission to wear that?"
"You... you said you liked it," You breathe out. The way he can make you this nervous with his presence turns your head into a dizzy mess. Not only does he have you cornered against the kitchen counter, where everyone could walk in and see him groping you, but you can feel his erection against the back on your lower back.
"I did. I do like it. Although I disapprove of you advertising what's mine."
Toying with the bows securing the bikini bottom around your hips, Anakin unties one slowly, giving you the time to move if you really want to... but of course, you stay still. When have you ever moved away from Daddy's precious attention?
"Come on, take a sip. You were stealing it from me anyway," Anakin laughs, guiding the mouth of the bottle towards your lips, letting go of your hip to yank your head back, forcing you to gulp down the cold beer. You drink and drink, wincing at the bitter taste, compelled to please him. Struggling to shake your head causing the liquid to run down your lips, trickling down your chest, raising goosebumps on your naked skin.
"You made a mess, princess," He chastises you, clicking his tongue and slamming the half-empty beer down before spinning you around. "I thought you wanted to be a big girl."
Anakin's head lowers, licking the beer droplets off your skin, humming at the familiar taste mixed with the chlorine water from the pool. Moaning quietly, your hands reach for his shoulders, squeezing them tightly. "D-Dad," you whimper, looking over your shoulder to make sure your friends are still outside. "Not here."
"Oh, so now is not here?" Anakin replies, his tone both mocking and sarcastic. "Well, let's see if you say that once I fuck you right here, just pray one of your little friends doesn't walk in and see you stuffed full of my cock."
#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers!#anisangeldust#dad!anakin#anakin skywalker smut#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker x reader smut#anakin skywalker x you#anakin skywalker x fem reader#anakin skywalker x female reader#anakin x you#anakin smut#anakin x reader#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker one shot
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Perv!Choso roommate Headcanons brain rot
A/N: I know that this is done a lot, but when I say perv I mean PERV
Perv!Choso who does the classic perverted things. He swears he just loves you so much he needs to see you naked whenever he gets the chance to, walking in when you're showering or getting dressed just to get a flashed image in his mind to jerk off to.
Perv!Choso who walks in your room while you're sleeping, your lips parting with every deep breath and you just look so kissable. He was originally there to snatch your panties, but you look so good like that. He starts to pump his fat cock into his fist right there in front of your sleeping figure. He won't touch you, not without permission, but he'll image all he wants.
Perv!Choso watches you play with yourself. The doors just cracked open, and he makes sure to have his eyes on that wet pussy. You looked so needy for something large inside that cunt, and that dildo didn't look that satisfying...
Perv!Choso takes your vibrator and rubs it on his tip, thinking of your pussy. You had this in between your folds, probably inside that wet core, and now it's touching his dick. He can cum from the thought alone.
Perv!Choso who watches you ride your pillows with a toy on your clit, hips rocking against it. Next thing you know your pillow is gone. Little did you know, he's in his room, rutting against the fabric where your pussy was. He's such a a fucking filthy pervert, but it's only for you. He'll never want another one as bad as he does you.
Perv!Choso he won't ever touch you without permission. But when you have on a thin shirt, no bra, and the cold air conditioner makes you nipples hard and poke through, he's fighting the urge to suck and twist them. You can ask to turn the AC down if it's cold, and he'll turn it up and say "I got confused, sorry" when he just wanted your nipples to be a sight he can rub his cock to.
Perv!Choso who watches you intensely as you talk about something. You're so pretty and your voice is dreamy—he can already imagine you moaning for him. Little do you know how hard he's rubbing his palm on his cock under the table. When you start to laugh, the breathy sighs leaving your lips, he begins to take his cock out and stroke it right then and there.
Perv!Choso gags himself with your panties all the time while beating it. Just licking the fabric where you soft pussy should be resting makes his cock leak a pool of precum.
Perv!Choso who comes back into your room to switch out your panties that he soiled, only to see you sleeping naked, curled up in a little ball with your back to him. If he lowers his head enough, he could see your pussy... Glistening. Fuck, where's the blankets? He could care less. He won't touch you, no, no, but he'll get close enough he could feel the heat of your cunt over his tip.
Perv!Choso who stays in your room to cum in his hands. While he's beating it, he's whispering naughty words in your ears to make your dream lewd. And specifically lewd dreams of him.
"Do you feel me inside that creamy cunt, baby?"
"squirt all on me, pretty girl."
"i gotchu, princess, keep riding my face."
"aw, did you just moan my name? Is the dream that good?"
Perv!Choso who hears you desperately thrusting a dildo into your cunt, crying his name after that dream. He knew you would need him after all that teasing he did to your last night, making you cum on your sheets while sleep.
Perv!Choso but, no. He won't come in and help you just yet. After all the teasing you did, he hopes you'll need him as much as he needs you before he is balls deep inside that pretty pussy.
Credits to @bunnysrph for the heart divider and @benkeibear for the MDNI banner
Finally some Choso ones to add...
˚꩜⋆.°⭑Do not copy, translate, or steal in any way, reblogs are appreciated and allowed.
#choso kamo#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#choso x reader#choso smut#kamo x reader#kamo choso#jjk smut#jjk x reader smut#jjk choso
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I'm the dad now
"Come on Dad, this is gonna hurt both of us. Just stop fighting and let go. You're not gonna win."
The hairy man was alone in the bathroom fighting with himself, screaming in pain, grabbing his neck and trying to comfort himself. He spoke to himself, which may sound schizophrenic, but this wasn't the case. He was being possessed for the first time by his teenage son, Joe, who had big troubles at school for skiping classes. Joe wasn't usually the type to skip school, but there was this bully he wanted to get back at. He found way to possess someone, but it took a lot of practice to do. You couldn't just possess someone asleep, but them being awake was the thing that made it so hard. They fought and the more they fought the harder it became to stay in the body. But after many many hours of possessing multiple students of his for just a few seconds, he finally felt like he could be ready to possess his bully now. If it weren't for the letter from school that came in mail this morning. Joe opened it and saw that they asked his father to come by for a meeting with the principal. "Oh, no. My dad can't see this. I have to do something." An evil and slightly reckless idea followed.
And as you guessed correctly, Joe's idea was to just possess his father and go to the meeting himself. Did he think about the consequences? No. But that didn't matter now, because his father still faught for his body pretty hard. The only lucky thing for Joe was that his father won't remember the process of possession.
"I win dad. I am stronger. You have to sleep now and let it go!"
Few minutes of fight followed and then quiet.
Joe laughed with tears in his eyes. Sweat all ower his body from the fight. "You could have atleast made my possession a bit easier than this, dad."
Now was the perfect time to hurry up, dress dad's body and meet the principal. But Joe's teenage mind went to a different place. His dad can be late. It's about Joe's life. Not him. He only has to show up
Joe P.O.V.
"Damnnnnn dad! You have really been hitting the gym recently, haven't you? Maaan look at me" I didn't expect this to be so hot. I was a bit grossed out possessing my own dad, but now I might actually enjoy this.
"I never noticed, how really handsome you are, daddy." Hairy pecs, beautiful biceps. You're a real man, I'd like to be some day. Well... not someday. Now."
"It's actually not your biceps now, dad. It's all mine. Just look at it. So amazing. The boys at school would be so jealous. No they WILL be jealous. Just wait till I show them who I am now."
"Oh dad. Why the hell have you been hiding all this from me. I would have never thought about possessing that fucker Bill. Why should I even bother now about some dumb school shit. I can be an adult man for fuck's sake. I am the man now. I am my DAD."
"These muscles are so firm and tight. I wonder how many times a week you have been going. Might get used to it now." Wait, am I really thinking what I am thinking? Do I want to stay like this. No, this must be the after efect of possession, not just a desire to be the hairy dad of mine.
"Haha, I'm so heavy now that I'd most certainly beat all the boys in the football club. Well maybe not the quarterback, but everyone else I might. Maybe I should get Trevor to possess him. We could enjoy being two studs together. I would be a bit older, but I'm sure he won't mind. Especially not while we are exploring our new bodies."
"Which brings me to this awful towel." I dropped it on the floor where it belongs
"Wohohooo, much better. Damn dad, the razor stays clean all the time for a reason right? I won't change that don't worry. I'm pretty sure Trevor likes his men hairy. Not like he would know what a man's touch is like or even sex. But tonight he will. I will let him scratch my beard, kiss my biceps, massage my back."
"Oh boy, I have to go take care of this beast now. Don't want to cum in the principals office. Haha, I love being my dad."
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keep me here (with your skin on mine again) [17.6k]
summary: it's been a long time coming. he's the bane of your existence, but there's no denying it. your roommate is hot.
cw: gn!reader, afab!reader, smut, jealousy, friends with benefits arrangement, original characters, stephanie brown cameo, intoxication, blowjobs, spit, fingering, handjobs, piv sex, minor voyeurism, references to past voyeurism, masturbation, slight dubcon re multiple orgasms as there isn't a discussion but it's consensual, references to reader's clothing – they wear clothes described as 'short' and 'tight', and 'slutty' at one point (not degradingly), mention of reader wearing a hair towel, presumably after a shower, use of 'cunt', arguments, miscommunication + reader and jason are both petty and imperfect !! minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked
Jason just about falls over himself laughing when you open the door and immediately you scowl. He doesn’t say a word, teal eyes taking in your outfit before his beautiful face screws up, a loud guffaw punching out of him. The force of his amusement is strong enough that he sinks to his knees, clutching the door-frame to steady himself.
“Oh–” you scoff, and he has to yank his fingers away before the door slams on them. “You’re so insufferable!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You hear a pause before he dissolves into laughter again, and you resist the urge to stamp your foot.
“No you aren’t. What the fuck do you want?”
“I can’t talk to you through the door, can you open up?”
You pout. “No.”
“Please? I swear I won’t laugh.”
You make a face at that, disbelieving. “You’re full of shit.”
Another muffled snort through the door. “Okay, I swear I’ll try not to laugh,” Jason amends.
You open the door and he struggles to keep a straight face. You know what you must look like, the hair towel, the pair of pink, heart patterned, fluffy pyjama pants and your bed socks.
“I’ll close this door again,” you remind him when you catch him eyeing the print on your socks, crossing your arms impatiently and he nods, biting his lip to compose himself.
“I thought you were going out.” Jason voices this out loud and you cut an unimpressed look his way when his voice wobbles with the weight of keeping his amusement at bay.
“I am.”
“Oh. Is that the look for tonight?”
You sneer at him. “Is this what you came to ask me?”
“It’s all I wanna talk about now,” he admits, shrugging. He points at your pants and you bat his hand away, hissing. “Where on earth did you get these from?”
“They’re comfortable–”
“I’ll say.”
“–and I got them from my parents, ass hat,” you finish pointedly, hands on your hips.
“Do they hate you?” he drops his voice into a conspiratorial whisper, eyes widening into faux sympathy and you roll your eyes.
“Whatever, man. What do you want? You’re interrupting my getting ready time.”
He lets out a breath obnoxiously, leaning into the door frame.
“Yeah, for bed, it seems.” You stare at him blankly, fighting the urge to strangle him with your bare hands. “Anyway, do you have my charger? Think I left it in here last night.”
Briefly, you consider telling him that you haven’t actually, despite knowing exactly where it is, having been plugged into the outlet between your bed and the wall during your marathon of Gilmore Girls last night. You end up opening the door, waving a hand dismissively at him to check for himself before you move further into your room, returning to your walk-in to contemplate your outfit for the night.
Jason enters the room and you see him move around in your periphery as you push the hangers around. He lingers in your room after he finds the charger, twisting the cable around his fingers absentmindedly.
“You should stick with that outfit,” he remarks, taking a seat on your bed. You look over your shoulder and he elaborates, helpfully, “I think it’ll be a real hit at the club.”
“I’m sure,” you say dryly. “The men’ll be falling all over me.”
He cracks a delighted smirk, nodding. “Exactly.”
“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” you inform him, emerging from the wardrobe and tilting your head to the door. “C’mon, you found your charger. I need to get ready.”
He boos you but stands up anyway and you push him out, palms pressing into his shoulder blades. Jason, ever resistant to making anything easy for you, ever, leans his weight into you, slowing down to a crawl. “So mean. You don’t wanna hang out? You’re breaking my heart, here. I thought we were best friends forever.”
“We’ll be best friends forever if you get out,” you retort, shoving him over the threshold and he cackles.
He’s still laughing long after the door slams behind him.
Jason becomes your roommate on a Wednesday morning. You remember this because you have a full day of classes on Wednesdays, and you’d spent the night before anxiously cleaning in preparation for his arrival. He moves in while you’re in class, and sends you a text as you’re getting out at 5 that he’s getting takeout and did you want anything from the Korean restaurant a few blocks away?
You get home to the smell of tteokbokki, fried chicken and japchae on the counter. Your return home, usually greeted by the sound of silence, is met with quite possibly the most attractive man you’ve ever met in your life in your kitchen, looking up from his phone and nodding a casual ‘hey’.
It isn’t as though you aren’t expecting this. You’d met him several times before, at gatherings and mutual friends’ birthday parties. Still, Jason’s beauty manages to leave you reeling every single time. You stare for a moment, startled, before rushing out a jerky, “Hi!”
He’s silent for a moment before he parts his lips. You track the motion, feeling your throat dry at the awkward, lopsided grin he shoots you.
“Wasn’t sure if you wanted to eat together, or...”
Your eyes widen and you take a few steps forward. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you to start without me, I didn’t think I’d take this long, there was construction on the road and we had to go a different way–”
“You took the bus?” he questions, eyebrows creasing and you nod.
“It’s easier, there’s a stop a block away and it drops me off five minutes from campus,” you tell him, and he nods slowly. “Anyway, I’m sorry, you’re probably hungry, you didn’t have to wait for me.”
He shakes his head, disappointed. “You know, our relationship’s already off to a terrible start, Roomie. I really don’t know how you’ll come back from this.”
You stare for a moment before it hits you: he’s making a joke. You let out a laugh, moving further into the apartment. “You’ll survive a few more minutes, I’m sure.”
“I’m withering away as we speak,” he calls out after you.
You break in your newfound coexistence over rice cakes and stir fried noodles, sweet and sour sauce staining your fingers, sitting at the coffee table while Jason goes through the things he needs to get done, reruns of an old show playing on the TV that neither of you pay much attention to.
“We can go together,” you suggest, when he mumbles something about picking up his groceries, typing out a list on his phone. He looks up in surprise, as though he hadn’t expected the offer.
“You sure?”
You shrug, spearing a rice cake onto your fork. “If you want. I need to get a few things anyway.”
He considers it a moment longer, before nodding. “Okay.”
It takes some getting used to, having this man in your apartment. A week in, you nearly scream when you walk into the kitchen half asleep to find him at the stove – the lack of a shirt is no help in calming your racing heart. But the weeks pass by, and Jason becomes less of the attractive man you share a living space with, morphing into something else entirely as he gets comfortable. By the time you hit the three month mark, his looks are the least of your concern – he’s the bane of your fucking existence.
Kind of.
The two of you settle into your routine and you find out that Jason has a mouth on him. He delights in riling you up, tourmaline eyes flashing with barely constrained glee when you react in kind – bitching at him for coming into the kitchen when it’s your turn to make dinner and offering unbidden suggestions, or squabbling over who got it wrong when you forget to tell him to take a turn on your way to go grocery shopping. You maintain the last one is his fault. How can you forget the route to the store when we’ve gone nearly a hundred times by now?
He somehow manages to draw it out of you, the bitchiness you’ve been carrying with you since middle school and have tried to bury down–nobody likes a smart mouth, after all. But he doesn’t flinch from it.
If you didn’t know any better, you might even say he liked it.
– You do know better, though.
(That one night spent with your hands under the blankets and thoughts of ultramarine eyes is nobody’s business but yours.)
You meet his family. He meets your friends – the ones he doesn’t already know. You somehow end up watching a show together. His sweater lays at the foot of your bed. You’ve slept in his bed and vice versa. You’re sure he’s one of the closest friends you have. He irritates you to no end.
Bit by bit, Jason worms his way into your life and settles comfortably there.
It’s probably why your girlfriends feel so comfortable calling him on your night out and how the ensuing mess occurs.
Jason gets the call around 2 in the morning, the ringtone blaring through his skull just as he’s about to fall asleep. He jerks up, glaring groggily at his phone. He contemplates leaving it to ring, but he spies your friend’s name on the screen and he sighs, wiping a hand down his face.
They’re playing loud rap music when he gets inside, descending the stairs into the dark club. He passes girls supporting their drunken friends on their way out and gently shoulders his way through a group lingering by the double doors leading to the actual club. More than once, he feels an appreciative stare on the back of his neck but he’s preoccupied.
It takes him a moment to spot you over the crowd, squinting his eyes to make out your form through the dim lights. When he does, his throat dries.
He hadn’t seen you after he’d been shepherded out of your room, pulled into a phone call with his younger brother who’d decided that nearing midnight was the perfect time to complain at length about their father. Damian hadn’t let him go until long after you’d left the house, your voice echoing through the walls with a “I’m going! Bye!” that he’d distractedly replied to in between making the appropriate listening noises to his increasingly agitated brother.
You’re holding your friend’s hand at the bar, smiling dreamily and swaying in place when the song abruptly switches to something slower. The clothes you wear leave little to the imagination, short, tight, sinful. He bites his cheek hard, swallowing roughly as he makes his way over. Something green curls in his vision when someone gravitates closer to you, yelling something in your ear. The guy is all leery smiles and appreciative eyes, gaze lingering on the dip of your neckline.
Much to Jason’s displeasure, you don’t back away in disgust, only frowning in confusion and tapping your ear – I didn’t hear you. He repeats himself and Jason watches you process whatever it is that he’s said before a smile breaks out and you laugh, shaking your head. Your eyes glitter, and jealousy burns low in his gut. You don’t seem to realise you’ve ensnared the other man in your orbit, staring up at him over the rim of your drink.
Jason breaks through the crowd and calls your name. Miraculously, it isn’t lost to the crowd and you look away. He finds smug pleasure in the way you startle in surprise, the shape of his name on your lips. He ignores the other guy, leaning an arm against the bar and between the both of you, effectively blocking you off. God, if Dick could see him now. Just the other week, his brother had been giving him shit for the apparent territoriality over you, and he’d gone blue in the face denying it, despite the knowing look on Dick’s face.
“What are you doing here?” you reach up on your tiptoes to ask him.
“Here to take you guys home,” he shouts, leaning in to get his words across. And he doesn’t need to, but he rests his hand on your waist as he does, and you press closer, tilting your face up to pout at him.
“What?” you protest. “Nooo, it’s still early!”
He grins at you unsympathetically. “It’s nearly 3 am, baby, c’mon. You look like you’re going to fall over.”
He only realises he’s made a slip up when your eyebrows crease but you say nothing, only staring up at him with moony eyes before smiling and placing your drink down to put a hand in his, mouthing an ‘okay’. He signals to your friend behind you, who’d called him earlier and watches the exchange with interest. She turns and shouts something over her shoulder, waiting for the third of your party to finish her drink before tugging her along. The three of you hold hands and follow him through the club in single file, a sight that he’s robbed of finding any amusement because he’s trying much harder not to pop a blood vessel at having to stop every few moments. The cause is, of course, you: each time he looks over his shoulder, another man has stopped you to flirt with you. He sends up a prayer for patience, hopes anyone is listening, and continues to pull you along.
The third time, he whirls around to tug you firmly into his side, barking out a harsh, “Fuck off.” at the guy and cutting a scolding look your way for answering his advances. It’s a waste of time, because you’re just grinning up at him in amusement, giggling. He sighs, steering you in front of him and nodding for your friend to take the lead. By the time he ascends the stairs to the exit, he’s sure his blood pressure is through the roof.
“Get in the car,” he sighs and you unlatch yourself from his side – a consequence of simultaneously risking twisting your ankle a block back and falling into oncoming traffic. He’d near grabbed you by the scruff of your neck in pulling you away from the kerbside and further onto the pavement, keeping an arm around your shoulder tightly.
“Okay.” You draw out the word playfully but sink into the passenger seat obediently, your friends following suit.
He shuts your car door, and sighs once more.
The door to your apartment opens quietly closer to 5 in the morning than he’d like, and he’s glad he’s not working the next day as he trudges through the threshold with you in tow, cradling a bag of takeout carefully as you toe off your shoes.
He throws his keys carelessly onto the counter, where he knows you’ll find them when you wake up and move them to the bowl in the entryway – where your keys are meant to go, a fact you’ve reminded him of unhelpfully when he’s running late and his keys aren’t where he left them. Between now and then, he’ll forget this fact, he always somehow does.
Now, you place the paper bag next to his keys and wander away – he looks over his shoulder and finds you shoving your feet into his house slippers, a shaking hand pressed against the wall to steady yourself as you put them on. The sight sends a bolt of affection through him and he turns away, focusing on washing his hands. He calls your name once he’s done, jerks his head to the tap. You don’t protest, only leaning into his side and sticking your hands under the stream of water.
He doesn’t know why he’s not moving away. Your vantage point makes it a little awkward to wash your hands, and it’d be easier if you switched places. Still, he stays, privately, guiltily admitting that the weight of you is nice against his side. Your bare arm is soft against his, and he can smell the perfume you’d used tonight, faint but sweet. If he looks out of the corner of his eye, he can see the glitter of your necklace, thin chains resting against your collarbones and décolletage.
You bump your head against his shoulder, and he blinks, drawn suddenly from his thoughts. Your stare is unnerving, and he almost wonders for a moment whether you can read the shameful attraction in his eyes.
“Come eat.”
He hopes you don’t notice the relief in his sigh as he follows you to the table. The two of you eat in silence for the most part, Jason picking at the edges of the burger he no longer wants and you stealing his fries in between bites of your wrap.
He gets up to go pour you some water – he isn’t sure how much you drank tonight, but he’ll sleep better once you’ve finished a few glasses – when you suddenly break the silence.
“I kissed a guy tonight.” Jason pauses his rummaging through the cupboard for a glass, and hears you muse to yourself, “It wasn’t very good, but I kissed him anyway.”
“Did you.” He keeps his back to you, fingers closing around the glass gently before he takes a breath and turns around. Mechanically, he pours you a glass of water, watching the liquid fill the cup as you stand from the table to pad over to him. He can feel you at his back and when he turns to face you, he thrusts the glass at you.
“Drink.” You take the glass, and he watches you down it. When you’ve finished, he pours you another and nods at you in instruction.
“You okay?” you ask, once he’s satisfied. His gaze catches on the sheen of water on your bottom lip.
“’M fine,” he bites out, forcing himself to relax when you reach out to touch his shoulder, but he only ends up curling his fingers into fists, pressing them into the laminate counter behind him. Your hand flattens against his shoulder, palm resting just above his heart. He can hear it beat in his ears, picking up further when you move into his space. Your chest brushes against his, and he remains still, backed against the counter.
He could move you right now, he knows he could. You’re off-kilter, and he’s much larger than you. He’s picked you up before, for a laugh. It’d be easy to move out from under you. But there he remains, with you drawing closer.
“You’re drunk,” he breathes out against your lips when you’re a hair’s breadth away, moving to press forward. Your lips are parted slightly, and he tracks your tongue as it darts out to wet your lips, flicks his gaze back up your pupils, dark and blown out.
“Not really,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Not as much. I’m just tipsy.”
A breathless sound punches out of him, and Jason feels his lips twitch. Somehow, his hands have migrated to settle against your waist. He runs his finger over the edge of your top, feeling your warmth sear through it. It’s a flimsy thing, thin and slutty – meant for darkened corners and wandering hands. No wonder you’d garnered the amount of stares you had tonight. He flicks his gaze down, and his fingertips have skimmed underneath its hemming, pressing lightly into your sides.
Had the guy you’d kissed tonight held you like this? Jason, envious, swipes his thumbs over your skin and delights in the shiver that rolls down your spine. Your eyelids flutter, and in the dark your eyes are covered in a sheen of liquid moonlight, the universe bottled and staring back at him. He bites back a swear, feeling his jeans tighten.
“You should get to bed.” It takes an effort to force the words out, and they come out hoarse. You stare at him for a few moments longer, unknowing that with each passing second, the thread of his restraint is steadily fraying. Alcohol and drunken desire weigh your eyelids down, and he grits his teeth at your lingering touch before you step away, turning on your heel in the direction of your room.
A single, solitary light in the hallway remains to keep him company in the kitchen, rooted to spot as he hears a muffled sigh of frustration through the walls. Then, the sounds of a zipper, and the rustle of your bed sheets. He curses his keen sense of hearing then, blood turning molten when, a few moments later, you whimper.
He knows the sound. It’s burned into his memory, the day he’d come home early and inadvertently overheard you touching yourself. Hearing it again has him dizzy and unable to move, clutching the counter tops as you try, pitifully, to muffle your moans.
Several minutes pass by. You fall silent after that. Jason thinks he must’ve done something awful in another life, and that this must be his penance, to have you so close yet be unable to do anything about it. He remains in the living room until he’s certain you’ve fallen asleep. Only when all movement in the next room ceases does he move.
You wake up a little past ten in the morning, to your surprise. The light pours in through the open blinds and you squint, rolling over to bury your face in your pillow. Your entire body cracks and you groan at the sensation, stretching across the expanse of your mattress. There’s grit in your eyes from the mascara you’d put on last night, you can feel the coarse flecks of it clumping your lashes together, and your face feels gross.
When you get up, you don’t bother to pull on a pair of pants – you’d discarded your bottoms last night before falling into bed – but switch the top for something looser, a t-shirt of Jason’s you think must’ve gotten mixed up in the laundry.
Your mind stutters over this name when you step into your shared bathroom, and you pause, hovering over the sink with your facial cleanser in hand.
Jason.
The memory of last night makes your face warm, recalling the sharp look he’d pinned you with, marbled features burning from the inside out as he’d let you draw closer and closer, eyes blazing. The ghost of his touch on your skin throbs, something like a live-wire threading itself alongside your every nerve.
You wash your face with careful movements, watching the makeup from last night swirl down the drain. Little else exists in your mind, save for the lingering desire of last night – and all the nights before that had led to it.
Where do you go from here?
You step into the shower, wondering if the two of you will pretend it never happened and continue as normal. You resolve to do as Jason does, nodding to yourself as you smooth your moisturiser into your skin. Judging by the sounds in the kitchen as you step out, you figure he has no intention of avoiding you. That, at least, reassures you and you walk out half an hour later with less hesitance.
“Morning,” you yawn and he looks over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing, bemused.
“How the fuck are you awake?”
“What do you mean?” You take a seat at the counter, propping yourself up on an elbow. There’s a slice of toast on a plate, covered in melting butter and unabashedly, you reach for it.
“Just that you knocked out at like, 6 – that’s mine, you thief,” Jason explains, looking over his shoulder before sputtering when he catches sight of his toast in your mouth. You mumble an apology around the bread and he grumbles, turning back to the stove. “Yeah, you sound real sorry. You couldn’t wait a few more minutes to make your own?”
You grin to yourself, dusting your hands off and leaning forward on the counter. “Aren’t you making me breakfast? I thought that’s what this was. You know, feeding your poor, hungover roommate who you love so much?”
He shoots a flat stare at you and you know you’re right – there’s twice the amount of hash-browns in the pan that he would make for himself, and there’s a carton of juice on the counter waiting to be poured, a plate waiting by the toaster near him.
“You keep that up and I’m giving your share to the neighbor’s cat,” he says mildly and you pout, settling back into your seat.
“Whatever,” you murmur. “Why are you awake, if you fell asleep after me?”
“Because the universe hates me.”
“Bruce called?” you guess and he shakes his head, plating your hash-browns and toast and turning to place it in front of you.
“Dick. Wanted to catch up. Why he chose at 8 in the morning is beyond me, but what the fuck ever,” he mutters, handing you a fork and taking a seat next to you. The proximity makes you shiver when his shoulder brushes against yours and you catch a whiff of his cologne. You cross your legs beneath the counter and hope he doesn’t notice, leaning in to take a bite of your food.
“You hungover?” he mutters and you shake your head. “You drank a lot last night, didn’t you?”
You hum in affirmation, letting him steal a bite of your toast. “Don’t think so. I’m a bit achy, but that’s it.”
He makes a noise in his throat. “Lucky you.”
The way he’d tugged you into his side last night flashes in your mind and you duck your head, warm all of a sudden. “Yeah.”
You stand up to put your plate away, and only when you’re at the sink and Jason makes a choked noise do you realise what you’ve wandered out in. You stiffen.
“The fuck are you wearing?”
You blink, not expecting him to be so incensed. You set the plate down in the sink and turn, looking down at the shirt you wear– the shirt you’re only wearing – and back up at him. It hangs off your frame, somewhat, but you can admit it’s a little on the shorter side as far as oversized shirts go, just skimming below the tops of your thighs. Still, it doesn’t explain why Jason’s expression has gone taut.
“A shirt?” you offer, tentatively.
“Are you serious?” You pause when he gets short with you, eyes narrowing.
“Yes?” You don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry I forgot to put pants on. Why are you mad?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not mad.”
“You are.”
“Whatever.” He wrinkles his nose, and you can see his leg jumping as he taps his foot, agitated. “You should go put some clothes on.”
Your mouth tugs down into an unimpressed frown. “So you are mad about my clothes,” you say flatly. “You’ve never had a problem with what I wear around the house before.”
And you know that he knows it’s true. You’ve accidentally come out in your pyjamas when he’s had his friends over, not seeing the text he’d sent to give you a heads up and he’s only ever laughed it off. You know he’s seen you like this before, too. You’ve grown so used to Jason it no longer occurs to you to cover up – it’s only Jason. He’s used to it.
But then you look at the agitation on his face. You’re beginning to think that maybe he isn’t.
“Maybe I just didn’t want to say anything about it,” he says. “In the interest of keeping the peace.”
You shoot him a withering stare. He’s so full of shit. “So you’re not interested in keeping the peace anymore. Why are you saying something now?”
He lifts a shoulder, churlish. “Maybe I think it’s time. It’s not really appropriate, is it?”
If you weren’t growing madder by the second, you’d laugh in his face at the twitch of his eye as he says that, as though the words coming out of his mouth are pain to get out.
“I pay half the rent,” you tell him hotly. “There’s no one around and you know what, I don’t think you even care about what I wear.”
He looks startled when you say that and you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. You continue.
“All I’m hearing right now is a lot of ‘maybe’ and I’m not buying it. You’re a shit liar, Jason. What the fuck is your problem? The truth this time.”
He blinks, momentarily stunned. Anger like the tide, it washes away to make room for the truth before rushing back in. He stands up, breakfast abandoned, and your heart thrums in anticipation as the chair screeches backwards.
“My problem is you,” he says finally, and your mouth drops open.
“Me?” you squawk, indignant and he nods.
“Yeah, you.”
“What did I do?”
You wrack your brain, trying to come up with a reason he might be picking a fight with you. You hadn’t forgotten to take your clothes from the bathroom after you’d showered in a while, you’d been pretty good about replacing the liner in the bins when you noticed it was full – had you left your dishes in the sink yesterday before you’d gone out? Still, it didn’t warrant this level of a fight. This was beyond petty roommate squabbles – neither of you hesitated to get snippy about pulling your weight, and you forgave each other just as fast, too.
Jason was genuinely pissed off with you. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.
“Is this some sort of game to you?” he asks you, instead of elaborating and you’re left more confused.
“I’m not playing any games with you – what are you talking about?” you demand, exasperatedly and he rounds the counter, stepping close to you. Absently, you’re reminded of last night. (The beat of his heart under your fingers, angry thrumming that echoed the rush of your own in your ears.)
Blue-green eyes narrow at you and he scoffs. “You know how many guys I nearly got into it with last night because I had to come get your drunk ass? The entire time, you’re just smiling–I don’t think you even knew where you were at that point.”
“I knew where I was!” you argue but he continues.
“Then I finally get you home and you decide that wasn’t enough, you have to tell me you kissed some guy, try to put the moves on me, and then pretend like nothing’s happened this morning which – whatever, fine, but then you walk around in this? And I’m not supposed to think you’re playing games?”
You stare at him, heartbeat thundering in your ears.
“You are so stupid,” you breathe out. “What are you, jealous?”
“Yeah,” he huffs out, and you freeze. “Yeah, maybe I am.”
“What?” you mutter, barely audible.
He crowds you into the sink, until you can feel the edge of it pressed against your back. “You flirt with me, and I’m not supposed to do anything about it, because we live together. I have to watch you walk out of the house when you go out in your little outfits, and I’m not supposed to do anything about that either.”
He leans down and you’re nose to nose. “You accidentally send me something meant for someone else, and I’m not supposed to do anything about that, except all I can think about is how it’s meant for not me. Isn’t that a little unfair? How am I supposed to just move on from that? But I did. I made peace with the fact that you’re here, that you’re close enough for me to touch but I’m not supposed to.”
You go hot when you remember that, remembering the horror when in the heat of the moment you’d accidentally sent a photo meant for a hookup to Jason’s contact instead. It did little to comfort you when in response to your harried, apologetic explanation, Jason had simply sent you:
don’t worry
i deleted it
seriously it’s fine
He hadn’t acted in any way the next day to suggest that you’d ruined things or made it awkward, but you’d been mortified. The way he looks down at you now, you think he must be better at hiding it than you thought. Barely concealed lust darkens his eyes, pupils blown wide. It coaxes your own want out of you, your hands beginning to shake as you rest them on the counter behind you. Water flecks your palms but you’re uncaring, staring back at your roommate.
Jason stares down at you, waiting.
Well. You had resigned to doing as he did.
You tilt your head, scrutinising him with narrowed eyes. The edges of your mouth twitch in an effort to stifle the urge to smirk.
“Maybe you should do something about that,” you challenge, leaning in until you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. From here, you can count every eyelash that frames his eyes, can notice the scar just beneath his eyebrow, barely a quarter of an inch, a nick he must’ve gotten in his childhood. You add in a steady, derisive tone, tamping down the excitement that’s already begun to itch underneath your skin in anticipation, “instead of being quiet about it, like a coward. At least those guys had the nerve to try.”
His eyes flash and the breath he lets out is the only warning you get before you’re being kissed to within an inch of your life.
Your first thought is: why the fuck hadn’t you egged him on sooner?
Jason kisses like he might die if he doesn’t get to. You go boneless under the grip of his hands when they settle around your waist, tugging you into him urgently until your chest is pressed tight against his. You scramble for purchase, reaching to tug at his hair while his tongue swipes at your bottom lip and neither of you expect the breathless groan he lets out, but it goes straight to your gut, desire pooling low and driving you to tug again. Your noses bump and he lets out a wrecked laugh into your mouth.
“You’re seriously ruining it,” you mutter between kisses and he pulls away, much to your displeasure. You’re madder still at the way you chase his mouth, leaning in before blinking up at him.
“Yeah, what would you rather I do?”
Insufferable, even after having his tongue in your mouth. You tug his collar and pull him back down. He meets your height with a self satisfied smirk, laughter in his eyes. You’re not so amused.
“I’d rather,” you tell him, “you not laugh in my face while making out with me. It’s really making me reconsider letting you take this off me. I’m not wearing anything under this, you know.”
You want to laugh at how quickly his smirk drops at that but you’re too busy slipping out from the tight space, darting to the mouth of the hallway where you pause grin at him teasingly, tilting your head questioningly. Well? Are you coming or not?
He lunges forward and you squeal, taking off to your room with him hot on your heels. You’re just shy of your door when you’re flung over his shoulder, the world abruptly tipping as he grabs you. He laughs, victorious, and then a moment later he’s inside, you’re being thrown onto your bed. He stands at the foot of your bed for a moment, just staring and you feel a prickle of nervousness roll over your skin, ensnared in his gaze and the anticipation only made worse by the waiting.
And then he’s moving, a knee pressing into the bed as he climbs on, but you stop him, a hand flying to his shoulder. He goes still under your touch.
“Wait, can you–” you pause, feeling your face grow warm. “Can you close the blinds? I don’t want the neighbours to get a free show or something.”
He blinks, eyelashes fluttering before he snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay, sure.” He looks back at you as he pulls them firmly shut, throwing the room sharply into dimness but not before you catch sight of that teasing grin. “And here I was thinking you were so bold.”
“Not that bold,” you mutter, before you grin. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Not with me,” he mutters, climbing back onto the bed. He doesn’t waste any time in putting his mouth to your neck, teeth barely grazing against the skin. You inhale sharply, eyes fluttering under the touch. Jealousy colours his words when he says, “Don’t want anyone else seeing you like that.”
“N-no?” you barely manage to eke out, fingers digging into your sheets. You don’t want to admit his tone sends a thrill down your spine. You’re lucky he’s preoccupied, arching into his touch when his fingers find your sides again, rucking your shirt up your thighs.
“No,” he says firmly, before kissing you again.
When he pulls away you’re a little dizzy, breaths coming out heavy. It takes you a moment to realise your shirt lays over your stomach now, pushed up – showing off the underwear you’d lied about not wearing. He raises an eyebrow at you, unimpressed and you shrug, unrepentant. A finger skims over the band on your hip, hooking underneath it to snap it against your skin. It makes you gasp, and his lips twitch.
“Not wearing anything under this, huh,” he mocks.
“How else was I gonna get you to take it off faster?” you provide by way of explanation, grinning and he shakes his head, looking quite as though he doesn’t know what to do with you. When he pauses, staring, you roll your eyes, pushing up to pull your shirt off. His eyes widen as you settle back into your pillows, and you tell him archly, “There. Now you still get to take off only one thing.”
You watch him swallow you with his gaze, blue-green lingering on every inch of skin bared to him, breathing out heavily. Knelt between your legs, his hands remain hovering by your hips and you push them up, shifting until you brush against him. Impatience makes you petulant, slinging a leg over his hip and reaching out to coax his hand to fucking touch you.
“Do you want to do this?” you ask, when he only brushes a hand over your hip once more, and he frowns.
“Why’re you asking me that? Do you want to stop?”
“No!” you protest. “It’s just – you’ve got me naked and you’re not doing anything about it. It kind of feels like you don’t want to.”
He grins then, incredulously. “God. You’re so whiny. Is this how you are with all your hookups?”
You scowl at him. “You really wanna talk about my hookups? Now?”
His nose wrinkles in disdain and he leans in. “No. I’m gonna make you forget about them, though.”
You don’t know what it is about Jason that draws it out of you – you speak without thinking, dryly telling him, “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
He shuts you up with a glare and lowers himself down, settling on his stomach between your legs. You swallow nervously when his breath skims over the seat of your underwear, the lace already damp. Jason grins to himself when he nudges against the crease of your thigh with his nose and you tremble, biting down a gasp when his fingers hook into the lace and instead of pulling them off entirely, he only tugs them to the side.
He sighs, eyes flicking up to where you stare at him. “So fucking pretty.” He reaches a hand up to press to your mouth and you blink, letting your roommate part your lips with his fingers, pressing them flat against your tongue. It makes your head spin, and you drool over his fingers, wrapping your lips around them and sucking. You delight in the way he watches you do it and emboldened, you reach a shaking hand to encircle his wrist, keeping it in place.
Eventually he pulls himself out of your mouth, but not without shifting against the mattress, and you give him a smile, spit smearing down your chin. He curses under his breath, and you grin when you hear the words, “Fucking brat.”
Thoroughly soaked, he takes his fingers to your cunt and your eyes roll back when he spits onto your clit before attaching his mouth to you. Very quickly, Jason makes a mess of you under his fingers and tongue, pressing inside with ease and curling his fingers to hit the spot you can never quite reach yourself. You see stars, squealing when he bands his free arm over your stomach, pressing down and only intensifying the scale of your pleasure.
Sinking into the mattress, you lose sense of all else but the slick sounds of your sex and Jason’s ministrations, eyes fluttering closed as you whimper. He steadily increases his pace and you’re curling your fingers into the sheets, feeling the knot in your stomach twist and tighten. One twist of his fingers, the tug of his mouth on you, and you’re coming apart with a gasp of his name, hips straining upwards against his arm to ride out your high.
“Fuck,” you breathe out, stunned and staring at the ceiling and he laughs, laving your cunt with another look before he pulls away, delight on his face at the whimper you let out.
“You still wanna talk shit?” he questions, pushing himself up to come into your line of vision. You blink blearily at him.
“Give me a minute. Then, maybe,” you mumble and he snickers.
“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out now. All that attitude, and you didn’t even last ten minutes.”
You frown at him, sitting up and he falls back on his haunches to give you room. “I’m not tapping out, you asshole. When did I say that?”
He holds up his hands. “My bad, sweetheart. Must’ve misread that look on your face.”
“You’re insufferable,” is all you can say back to him, rolling your eyes.
“Maybe,” he admits, before a shit-eating grin curves his mouth upwards. “But you want to fuck me anyway.”
God help you, you really do.
You look down at him instead, and tug on the hem of his t-shirt. “Take this off.”
“Bossy,” he intones playfully, but pulls it off anyway, revealing the torso you’re guilty of having admired on several occasions, all powerful muscle and tanned skin. A thick pattern of hair trails down from his belly button into where his pyjama pants hang low on his hips, and you think maybe you’ve come on the spot again just at the sight of it, pressing your legs tight together.
He snorts above you, but says nothing, letting you push yourself up onto your knees, pressing a hand to his chest. He’s warm under you and just like last night, the beat of his heart is fast. You do what you’d longed to last night, sliding your hand up from his chest to his neck, tugging him down to press your lips against his. He inhales sharply through his nose, as if surprised, and you smile against his lips. You remain like that for a few moments, mouths slanted against each other and panting.
When you pull away, it’s with a fire burning in your gut, flames high and setting your skin alight.
“Those too,” you breathe out, nodding to his pants and not a moment wasted, they join your shirt on the floor. The both of you left in your underwear, you pout at him, brushing a hand over where he strains against the confines of it.
“I want you in me,” you tell him and he swears, screwing his eyes shut. You lower yourself back down, kneeling, to mouth over his hipbone. Tilting your chin up, you watch him shudder when your fingers ghost over the band of his underwear. “Can I?”
“Fuck. Yeah – yeah you can,” he grits out and you grin, pulling them down greedily. You move backwards as he kicks them off, and your mouth dries when you take in the size of him.
He’s bigger than any of your hookups, and your lust is dashed by the worry that suddenly overtakes you.
“Jason,” you say nervously and he hums. “I don’t think that’s going to fit.”
You try to appreciate that he attempts to muffle his laugh but immediately you’re looking back up at him, indignant. “Don’t laugh at me, I’m being serious.”
“Sweetheart, it’ll fit,” he reassures, smoothing a hand over your cheek, uncharacteristically tender. You find yourself leaning into it, a silent you promise? in your eyes. You believe him, though, you realise. “C’mon, let me take that off you.”
You sink back down into the sheets, pushing up your hips as he finally pulls off your underwear. And even though he’d been nose deep between your lips only a few minutes ago, he lets out a low breath at the sight of you, fully bared to him, a curse that skitters over your skin, stomach tightening as he shuffles closer.
He tightens a fist over his cock, smearing his pre over it as he gives it a few strokes before settling in the cradle of your hips. You shiver when he rests himself against you, sliding his cock over your cunt. Your mess clings to him, and the both of you groan when the tip of him catches against you, taking a sharp breath when he bumps against your clit.
“Don’t tease,” you murmur, reaching out to tug him down. He meets your mouth in a messy kiss, supporting himself on an elbow beside you, his free hand pushing your leg apart before guiding himself to your entrance.
You tense at the intrusion before he mutters at you to fucking breathe, baby. Inch by inch, with a thumb guiding tight circles over your clit, Jason pushes inside. The stretch of him is one you’ve not ever experienced, and you feel winded when he bottoms out, fully seating himself within you.
“Fuck,” you whisper. He grins, leaning down to kiss your jaw.
“Told you it’d fit,” he muses smugly, and you let out a dazed breath, pinching his arm. “Ow!”
“Don’t be a dick with your dick in me,” you mutter crossly and he lets out a laugh.
“Sorry. You okay?”
You blink a few times, wiggling your hips – Jason lets out a hiss – before nodding. His fingers haven’t stopped on your clit and slowly, the stretch has begun to feel a little pleasurable. When he pulls out a little before thrusting, you sigh, bringing your arms up to loop around his neck.
“Feels good?” he asks and you hum. Pleased, he begins to move.
Your senses dissolve quickly. The room slips into a cacophony of moans, the air thickening with urgency with every second that passes. Jason had kissed you like it was life or death; it had only been a precursor. Every nerve in your body feels like a live-wire, thrumming with electricity and so utterly sensitive to his every thrust, and touch, and kiss. His hands are bruising on your waist, your hips, your thigh, when he lifts your leg to sling it around his hip. His mouth seeks yours, all teeth and tongue, exchanging panted breaths and moans, mumbled swears spilling from his lips like a broken dam –
So fucking perfect.
Been waiting so – fuck, so long.
So good for me.
Yeah, just like that.
You can’t keep up with it, sinking your head back into the pillows beneath you. He takes advantage to lave his tongue against the exposed skin there, too, teeth working at you until you’re sure he’s left a mark to accompany the others.
Time passes thickly, your sense of it obscured by the man over you. He fucks you right through your first – technically second – orgasm, and works you up all over again, coaxing you through the next one with breathy laughs and a mean smile when you shake your head, tears budding at the corners of your eyes. You fall apart though, you couldn’t not, with the way he touches you as he angles his hips. Absently, you think, if your sheets weren’t already ruined from your makeup last night, they will be now.
“Thought you couldn’t,” he goads you, rolling the both of you over so you’re slumped on his chest and pushing back in you. You curl your nails into his chest and he gasps, “–Fuck!”
Jason doesn’t seem to mind that he’s worn you out too much to do anything beyond lay on his chest. He holds you easily, thrusting upwards. The change in position makes you cry out, tightening around him once more.
He lets out a startled laugh. “You have one more in you, sweetheart?”
You shake your head once more and he pouts, a hand taking your chin and directing your gaze to him. He’s pouting mockingly at you. “No? Are you sure?”
“You’re–” you stumble out, face screwing up under the weight of your building orgasm, “such a bastard.”
He just grins at you, but it’s strained, too, starting to slip around the edges. He tips his throat back, and you can feel his thrusts beginning to stutter. You take the chance to lean down and latch your mouth to his neck, tired hips rolling against his as you return his favour. His hands tighten around your hips and he groans. “Fuck, baby, ‘m gonna come, where do you want me?”
And because he’s stolen away with him your ability to reason, you whine out needily, “Inside. Need you, fuck, please, I need it inside.”
He swears loudly, hips bucking frantically. You keen as you feel your fourth orgasm of the morning roll over you, and not a moment later Jason follows suit. You feel the warmth of it slide down your thigh and his grip around you tightens as he rides out his high, face buried in your hair. His breathing is ragged, and you close your eyes for a moment against his neck, resting. The room falls silent for several moments, only your breathing to be heard as it evens out.
“Gonna have to get you the pill,” Jason mumbles into your neck and you hum. “Fuck, I should’ve gone to the store or something.”
You hug him a little tighter, shaking your head. “It was perfect.”
He laughs wearily, but his arms tighten around you briefly, too. “Not gonna be so perfect if I accidentally knock you up, baby. ‘M smarter about this, usually.”
You grumble, biting his neck gently. “I don’t wanna talk about your hookups with your dick still in me.”
“Should I pull out, so we can discuss them?” he offers, laughing when you try to pinch him.
“You’re so not funny,” you tell him, and he scrunches his nose playfully.
“Yeah, but you need me so bad,” he repeats, leaning in to steal a kiss before you can snap at him. It doesn’t save him; once you recover, you’re reaching to squish his face between your palms.
“You’re the biggest dweeb on the planet, I really hope you know that,” you tell him matter-of-fact-ly. To your annoyance, he doesn’t seem too chastised, beaming up at you when you let him go. You slump back down onto his chest, sighing loudly. “I’m so tired. How do you have that much energy? You slept less than me.”
He shrugs underneath you, a hand settling on your back and trailing up and down. The movement is soothing, and you find your eyelids growing heavier. “Think I’m kind of used to running on no sleep.”
“Freak,” you mumble, and he snickers. “You know, I really wasn’t teasing you when I came out.”
“Hm?”
“No pants. Just forgot,” you slur.
“Go to sleep,” is all he says, but you’re sure you hear a muffled laugh before sleep overtakes you.
You don’t know what you expect to happen from sleeping with Jason. When you wake up, you find that he’d dozed off around the same time as you, but not before cleaning you up and pulling your blanket over the both of you. It makes something in your heart twinge, and you have to avert your eyes when he wakes up not longer after you do. The both of you order an early dinner, having slept through most of the morning and afternoon – “Work tomorrow, too,” Jason had grumbled when you drew the blinds open to a late afternoon sun hanging low in the sky.
“Classes tomorrow,” you pout, as you strip the sheets in your bed. “And I slept through the whole day.”
“Your fault for not sleeping in this morning,” Jason mutters, still in your bed with his face pressed unhelpfully into a pillow. You swat his leg and when he lifts it to shoot you a beleaguered scowl, you gesture to the pillow. He grumbles, sitting up and taking off the pillowcase, throwing it at you. It unfolds halfway through and the both of you stare as it sadly flutters on top of the duvet between you.
“Sad,” you tell him. When the bed’s been stripped, you make him take it down to the laundry – “You have better luck with the machines, they’re always full when I go.”
“That’s such bullshit,” he grumbles, but he takes the basket anyway and heads downstairs to the laundry unit in your apartment building. He’s back five minutes later and unwilling to admit that you’d been right, mumbling a whatever when you let him in because he’d forgotten his keys.
“You wanna watch something tonight?” you ask him as he’s wrangling a fitted sheet over your mattress. The pillowcases and duvet cover replaced, you sit on a chair waiting for your sheet to be changed.
Jason mumbles out a, “Yeah, sure.” and you nod decisively.
Neither of you end up being able to choose a movie. The both of you take turns showering and by the time the clothes have been washed and the food comes, you can’t think of anything you want to watch. You resign to put on a few episodes of your show and call it a night. Though, you worry over your noodles – are you meant to sleep in his bed tonight? Is he going to sleep in yours?
Jason saves you the awkwardness by standing up at the end of your Gilmore Girls episode and heading to his bedroom. There’s no difference in his departure either. He doesn’t kiss you, or hug you or do anything out of the ordinary – he knocks the side of your head with his knuckle and heads off, calling over his shoulder, “Night.”
You’re left there to ponder over it.
You’ve made a disastrous mistake by sleeping with Jason.
You decide this upon waking the next morning and shuffling out into the kitchen to make yourself something to eat before your classes and finding a box of pastries waiting on the counter. You hadn’t expected to have much for breakfast – you were due to go grocery shopping with Jason soon, the fridge growing ever emptier by the day. The sight of it makes you stop short, and you feel that twinge in your heart again, only it’s immediately followed by horror – because you know what it is.
You like him.
You have no time to contemplate this bitter pill, forced to swallow it alongside a few bites of the unforgivably good pastries before getting ready to leave the house – you curse that he’d chosen your favourites, too. You like your roommate. The world goes on. You sit on the bus feeling shell-shocked, sure it must show on your face that you’ve come to terms with a life-changing revelation.
How long have you felt this way, how long have these feelings been blooming inside you, you wonder – feelings that go beyond the basic attraction you’re sure Jason is used to dealing with in his every day life. This isn’t lust, you realise miserably. That would be much too easy.
You like him. You want to strangle him most days, but you like Jason. You like his company, like his stupid sense of humour and despite your better judgement, like his attention. You like that he nags you about pulling your weight, like that he doesn’t care when you mouth off to him, like that he likes you with no pretenses.
Fuck.
There is nothing to suggest in Jason’s behaviour that what’s happened between the both of you actually happened. You feel like a bit of a creep for watching him the way you do, sneaking glances at him over the counter when it’s his turn to make dinner and reading into every syllable of every word he says to you – it begins to feel like you’ve slowly started to go mad. There’s no sign of anything.
Stephanie looks at you oddly when a few days later you both meet up with your mutual friends, pushing a few tables together and ordering nearly everything off the menu – it’s on her, tonight, thanks to the promotion you’re all getting together to celebrate. She drags you into the bathroom before your food arrives and you find yourself spilling the details to her, unable to keep it a secret any longer and almost regretting it when her face screws up into disgust.
“I mean, I knew it was bound to happen but gross,” she squeals, pretending to gag and you glare at her.
“What do you mean? You knew?”
She tucks a blonde curl behind her ear and leans against the bathroom counter, giving you a pointed look. “Are you serious? You had to have known. It was so obvious.”
What you suspect to be an incoming rant is interrupted by the swing of the bathroom door and the call of your names – “The guys told me to come get you before everything’s gone.”
The apparent inevitability of your getting together with your roommate is filed away for later as you exit the bathroom. No sooner than you approach the table do you notice your seat has been claimed, and you look over at Steph when the culprit – a friend she’d brought– smiles at you and apologises, gesturing between her and Jason.
“Do you mind switching with me?” she asks and you blink at her. She tilts her head and you can’t help but notice the shine of her hair, water-like in its movements as it sways. Next to her, Jason eyes you curiously and you smile tightly.
Logic reasons that you have no reason to say no. Jealousy sinks your fingernails into your palm behind your back as you shove your hands into your back pockets.
“Sure,” you tell her, and shove yourself into the seat next to Steph, waving a hand at Roy when he returns from the pool table across the bar and complains about you stealing his seat.
“I don’t see your name on it,” you tell him archly and turn firmly back to the conversation at hand – something about a coworker and someone’s boss that you’re guilty of not paying any attention to. Try as you might, you can’t focus on anything but the laughs from across the table, Steph’s friend leaning in and joking around with Jason.
Stephanie looks over at one point and pinches you under the table, ignoring your hiss to lean in and whisper, “What’s wrong with you?”
You pinch her back, but she simply raises her eyebrows, waiting. You glance over at your roommate, catching his eye before you mutter into her ear – and really, you’re thankful for the ruckus that your table and the dinner crowd provides, otherwise you’d never hear the end of it for ‘keeping secrets’–
“Why’d you invite her?”
She looks back and forth between the two before she raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re seriously pissy because you’re jealous? If you wanted to sit next to him, you should’ve just said.”
You frown at her. “Why would I do that? We haven’t even talked about it, I can’t just tell her to fuck off. He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Do you want him to be?” she asks, reaching for the untouched slice of pizza on your plate.
You sneak a look at Jason, who’s bringing a glass of beer to his mouth, smiling over the rim at not you. The answer is too humiliating to say out loud.
Envy clings to you long after everyone parts ways, waiting on the sidewalk and staring down hard at a piece of gum that’s lodged itself between the cracks in the pavement while Jason says goodbye. You don’t like how thankful you are that neither of them exchange numbers – or the possibility that it will come later.
The routine after a night out is usually like this – Jason tends to linger close by as you wash your face and get changed, sitting over the ledge of the closed toilet lid while you run through the events of the night. Normally, you don’t mind it so much. You’ve even found yourself mirroring him when it’s his turn to come home after a night out, standing outside his bedroom door while he changes and talking through the wall. You like the company, and the mutual dissection of your shared gatherings. It feels domestic.
Tonight, you close the bathroom door on him once you both get home and you can tell from the surprised sputter that he hadn’t been expecting it. But the drive home has given your jealousy time to fester, your blood running hot at the thought of all the shared glances and attention paid to someone that wasn’t you. It’s irrational, and mean, and completely crazy, but you find yourself angry with him for letting it happen and angrier still at yourself for feeling this way.
Jason, unaware that he’s back on your shit list, knocks on the door, demanding to be let in. You liken him to a cat, yowling at your doorstep. There’s a shit eating grin on his face when you open the door that drops the moment he catches sight of the look on your face.
“What.”
“Are you mad at me?” he asks, voice lilting in uncertainty and you huff.
“No, I just want to go to bed. I’m tired.” Lying through your teeth, you look away from where he’s trying to meet your eyes.
“Did something happen tonight?”
You hate the way his voice turns a little soft, truly, earnestly worried. His hands come up, hovering by your sides as if to turn you over and make sure you haven’t been hurt. It should make you melt, but all it does it make you madder.
“Nothing happened, don’t worry about it,” you tell him curtly, and his brow furrows for a moment, thoughtful.
“Is this about Steph’s friend?” he says and your face grows hotter when he says her name.
“No,” you say baldly, turning around and reaching for your cleanser. You work it between your palms with more force than necessary and the words come out of your mouth before you can stop them. “But you know what? I hate her. You shouldn’t talk to her.”
There’s a silence before he replies, and you hate the way he’s somehow found amusement in all of this. Amused, always amused when it comes to you. You wonder if he ever takes anything you say seriously. “You can’t tell me who I can talk to.”
You come up from the sink, water dripping from your lashes and chin and he pauses, meeting your eyes in the mirror.
“Fine, whatever. Go talk to little miss–” Your jaw closes with a clack and you purse your lips, reaching for your face towel. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
He stops you from reaching for the next product in your long routine, a hand circling around your wrist and tugging you a little closer. When you refuse to look up, his other hand tilts your chin up, and you hate him once more for ducking his head to meet your eyes.
“You mad ‘cos I didn’t sit next to you?” he asks, quiet and you scoff, pushing him away.
“No, have you lost your mind? Why would you think that?”
He doesn’t let you go very far, hands settling on your hips and holding you in place. You lift your chin stubbornly, glaring at the cracks in the tile over his shoulder. At the edges of your vision, Jason shuffles closer, bending his head to press his nose into your cheek.
“You know you can’t lie to me, right?” he murmurs, affection colouring his words. Then, voice dipping, he says softly, “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” you protest weakly but his resounding laugh skitters over the line of your neck and you sag against the counter.
“Yeah you are,” he says brightly, and you’re surprised when his lips press chastely into the swell of your cheek. “It’s okay.”
The frustration that’s been simmering in your veins all night boils over when he tilts his head to kiss your jaw. You reach for Jason, guiding his mouth to yours.
He kisses you sweetly tonight, and you squeeze your eyes tightly shut as his lips slide against yours, knuckles bumping against your jaw. There’s this feeling in your chest, champagne fizz-like, a cacophony of bursts, ever rising and rendering you giddy in his arms. It lasts only for a second before you’re pressing further into him, fingers tangling into the thick of his hair and tugging him closer, harried.
The sound of surprise he lets out is muffled, settling against your tongue and swallowed greedily while you press your hips into his. Jason quickly sets you against the edge of the counter, half-hard in his jeans where he stands between your parted legs. Desperation and anger line your movements, pressing closer, closer, impossibly closer to him until every inch of you is near flush against him, separated only by layers of clothing. There’s an urgency to your actions, mapping out his mouth and squeezing your legs around his hips in a bid to relieve the growing pressure.
He pants against your mouth, the hands at your waist kneading your skin through the fabric of your top, fisting it tight and rocking you closer against him.
“Want you,” you demand, breathy and shameless and he groans, eyes screwing shut before he’s nodding fervently, moving away slightly to help you tug your pants off until you’re left only in your underwear. Your hands reach for his belt as his slide down your waistband, spit-slicked fingers sliding against you with ease. You keen under his touch, fingers closing around his length and pulling him out.
You lean over, spitting onto his cock and the curse he bites out echoes in the bathroom. He’s warm in your hand and you delight in the moan he lets out when you pass your fist over his length, echoing it not a moment later when he circles your clit.
Half-dressed and pawing at each other, you rock against his fingers with one hand gripping his shoulder for dear life and the other passing broad, firm strokes over his cock. His hips buck into your fist and you catch his laboured breaths in a messy kiss once more, feeling pleasure coil tighter and tighter in your stomach. A well timed twist of his fingers draws a high-pitched gasp out of you.
“I’m–” you cry and he nods, face twisting.
“Me too.”
Only a few more strokes and the two of you cry out in unison, moans muffled in each other’s mouths as you come. Jason spills over your wrist, his own slowing to a stop beneath the band of your underwear as you let out a ragged breath, pressing your sweaty forehead to his.
His eyelashes flutter against your cheek and you let out a breath through your nose at the tickling sensation. Blue-green eyes meet yours, so close you think you can count the stars in his pupils, and Jason grins, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth.
Moments pass as he slowly dots kisses to your face, trailing over the corners of your mouth to your jaw and chin, sweet once more. You sigh, letting your eyes shut under his touch and leaning into press of his mouth, your limbs loosening under every baby-soft touch until you’re pliant in his arms.
“C’mon,” he tells you quietly, nosing at your jaw. “We gotta clean up.”
You tip your head tiredly, letting him maneuver you around to wash your hands in the sink while he takes care of himself. By the time he comes up behind you again, you’re watching the soap bubbles wash away down the drain.
“You still mad at me?” he mutters into your temple, and you look up to meet his eyes in the mirror. His arm hangs loosely around your shoulder, drawing you back into his chest. He’s shucked his jeans, left in only his t-shirt and underwear. You can feel the press of his skin against the back of your bare legs, the heat of him through his t-shirt.
You shrug, feeling oddly vulnerable. His lips seem to turn down for the slightest moment before he’s turning you to face him, a hand coming to rest against your jaw.
“Tell me,” he asks. The bite of tiramisu he’d had at dinner still lingers on your tongue and you can smell the lingering notes of his cologne. You press up on your toes to kiss him once more, a gentle brush of lips that carries with it the weight of your entire heart before you’re pulling away.
“Don’t talk to her,” you say quietly, too cowardly to say what you really feel. He regards you with a stare that feels too scrutinising for your liking, before he finally nods.
“Okay.” His thumbs sweeps across your cheek. “I won’t.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, averting your gaze as you nod. “Okay. Good.”
You fear you might have revealed more of yourself than you’d intended when, following the events of that night, Jason softens a little. Only infinitesimally, but you notice it – the way he begins to seek you out a little more, the ease with which he settles by your side in the kitchen when it’s your turn to make dinner, taking advantage of the proximity to steal bites of the food from the pan over your shoulder. Still, amongst the feelings that that particular thought evokes, you don’t find regret.
You dare to think that maybe, even, it was for the better when, twenty minutes into a gathering for one of your friend’s birthdays, Jason drags you out to the car under the pretense of going on an ice run and you find yourself making out with him at a red light, his thigh squeezing at the flesh of your thigh as he whispers filthy promises into your mouth. When you return, it’s with a bruise sucked into the hollow of your throat, hidden in the shadowed collar of your hoodie and kiss swollen lips that you can only hope goes unnoticed.
It gives you something of a thrill, kissing in darkened corners and returning to your friends with the taste of each other on your tongue, a secret shared only between you and Jason. You find yourself biting back grins when he meets your eye from across a room, tamping down the excitement of following him into the bathroom and letting him coax you into just one more kiss.
At home, the air is charged with an undercurrent of electricity, thick with the weight of all that has, and could happen. Your movie nights hang on a razor’s edge, the threat of devolving into something else looming between you at all times. Tonight, you give in, sinking to your knees twenty minutes into the movie and taking Jason’s length in your mouth.
He sinks his head back into the couch as you suck his cock, a hand wrapped around the back of your neck. You hum around him, half lidded eyes gazing up at him.
“Fuck...”
His voice is hoarse, a husky groan spilling from reddened lips, and he runs his other hand through his already messy hair, tousled from where you’d run your fingers through it only moments ago.
“Just like that,” he moans, head tipping back down to look at you, blue-green eyes swallowed by the dark of his pupils. “So fucking good, baby.”
You drag a fist up the end of his length, spit and pre-cum smearing over your fingers. It’s messy, quickened movements and wrecked sighs, Jason’s hips taut as he tries not to buck into your mouth. His grasp on his control slips a little when you dig your fingernails into the skin of his hip, nails scratching over where you know him to be sensitive. Startled, he lifts off the couch, hitting the back of your throat and drawing tears to your eyes.
“Shit,” he says, a half moan as he runs a hand down your face. “Sorry, you okay?”
You blink up at him, tears sticking your lashes together, and hum. The concern in his expression bleeds into realisation and he shakes his head, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a smirk.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, dropping back into the couch cushions. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
You pull off him to give him a smile, letting out a little laugh. “Yeah? Feels good?”
The hand on your face presses into your cheeks in warning when he lifts his head to glare at you tiredly, and you snicker once more before wrapping your lips around him.
He comes soon afterwards, pulling out of your mouth and making a mess on your face, spend smearing over your lips and chin. You squeeze your eyes shut as he finishes, the sound of his ragged breathing and the salt on your lips coaxing out your own need, wetness quickly growing between your legs. You think it must be obvious on your face. Jason, after carefully wiping your face, pulls you onto his lap, settling a muscled thigh between your legs and gazing up at you with blazing eyes as if to say, well? Your turn now.
The movie remains long forgotten.
“You okay?”
You purse your lips, fiddling with the straw in your drink. The cafe you’ve met at for lunch is one of your favourites, but you find it hard to focus on your food when you keep meeting someone’s eyes over Jason’s shoulder. The man grins at you when you look back, and your frown deepens.
Sat in front of you, Jason taps your foot under the table. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“There’s some guy behind you that keeps looking over here.”
His brows furrow and he leans in over the small table. “You don’t know him?”
You shake your head. “He doesn’t look familiar.”
He considers your answer and nods, before rising from the table. Startled, your hand flies out to clutch his sleeve, already imagining the blood on his knuckles. “What are you doing? Sit down!”
He looks at you like you’re crazy, and you feel your face grow hot. “Would you chill? I was going to tell you to switch seats with me.”
Your rehearsal of the explanation you’re going to have to give to his older brother that you were partially the reason Jason was in a police station comes to a screeching halt. “Oh.”
Flustered, you awkwardly slide out of your seat and into his. Jason passes your things over as he settles into your previous seat comfortably, and you watch his eyes scan over your shoulder, lingering only once, briefly, on something before he’s meeting your gaze with a small grin. His face doesn’t betray his annoyance, features set in a pleasant, neutral expression – except for the minute tightening of the skin around his eyes.
You squirm in your seat, still feeling the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of your head. “Is he still looking?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off you, shaking his head before, as casually as he would if he were brushing a leaf out of your hair, he extends a hand to curl around the back of your neck and pull you into a kiss over the table. Your sound of surprise is lost to his mouth, and Jason lets out a quiet laugh against your lips. When he pulls away, he lingers for a moment, a hair’s breadth away and bright eyed. “If he was still staring, he won’t be anymore.”
“Oh. Okay,” you murmur, dazed, settling back into the metal of your chair. The feel of his lips on yours lingers for the rest of lunch, and long after you part ways, you for your next class and Jason to work.
“See you at home,” you tell him quietly, as the crossing light turns green at the corner where you’re due to part. He grins down at you, reaching out to pinch your cheek. You half-heartedly bat his hand away, and he laughs, dropping it back to his side. You have the urge then, looking up at him, to hug him, but the seconds are counting down and bravery evades you, still.
“Yeah. See you.”
You wait there at the intersection, long after he’s crossed the street and disappeared around another corner. You aren’t quite sure what you’re waiting for. You aren’t sure how to explain your resulting tardiness to your teacher, either.
How do you explain the twist of your heart when you think of tourmaline eyes, the phantom brush of tender fingers over your cheek? You can only smile apologetically and hurry to your seat, face warming in both embarrassment and longing.
Jason lingers even when he isn’t there, the ghost of him stood in the doorway of your mind, a constant companion to your thoughts. You’d often thought of love as hues of rose, but you feel as though your vision has been wrapped in a sea-glass film, the world around you now cast in glittering jewel tones.
He draws out a different part of you now, you find. Still teasing, he’s the same Jason he’s ever been. And yet...
There’s a softness to your interactions that you wonder if you only see because you want it to be there. Silence between you now settles with a weight behind it, but it feels like the comfort of a down blanket, soft, and grounding, it feels like contentment. There’s a quality to his voice, to the way his mouth forms your name, something wrapped around every letter that makes you burn, hope flickering dangerously in your heart. You dare to let yourself wonder in the darkness of your room, hidden under the blanket – could he?
Hope, dangerous hope. It does away with any sense you have left. Hope turns you sweeter, displays your love-sickness for all to see across your face, eyes always searching for his in a room, smiles turned shyer. You don’t know who you’ve become, gentle and yearning, the cutting remarks you reserve for him now dulled. Hope pulls the words from your lips when you’re watching Jason make to rise from your bed, moonlight spilling across the floor of your bed through a crack in the blinds.
“Do you -” you falter, and he looks back.
“What?”
Your fingers twist in the bed sheets, nervous and you feel a little sick as you say, “Do you want to just sleep here, tonight?”
And you think you’re going to die, then, when he says nothing for a very long moment. It stretches out into the vast nothingness, and you feel shame heat your face, the weight of what you’ve just asked pressing down on your chest. You wish it would be quicker about finishing you off, you wish you could turn back time, you wish –
“Are you -” he falters. “Really?”
It isn’t a no. “Only if you want to,” you say quietly and the silence returns, before you hear the rustle of your sheets.
“Okay,” Jason whispers, and in the dark you think you hear him exhale shakily but you’re too relieved to pay attention, hope’s flickering flame roaring brightly once more.
It isn’t the first time you’ve slept in the same bed. You’ve fallen asleep next to each other on movie nights, and when you’d been too stubborn to call it a night while nodding off watching your show. You know the softness of Jason’s bed, know the warmth of his shoulder against yours. And still, your heart races when he returns from the bathroom and climbs into bed beside you.
This isn’t a first. And yet it feels entirely novel.
His arm finds you in the darkness and he draws you closer to his chest, but he pauses. “Is – is this okay?”
He’s warm, heat bleeding through the thin shirt you’d pulled on. You settle a shaky hand over the one on your stomach, squeezing it briefly. Your throat feels dry as you rasp out, “Yeah. Yeah it’s okay.”
“Okay.” A silence, and you feel the ghost of a kiss being pressed into your hair. “Night.”
“Night.”
You wake first in the morning, turning over and blinking open bleary eyes to the sight of him still in your bed. Your heart stutters at the sight of him, and you feel shame wrap you in its grasp once more as you take him in.
He’s beautiful, you think mournfully. There’s a white hair hidden in the depths of his temple, you notice, and a freckle below his left eye, thick lashes fanning over it. You trace the line of the scar in his eyebrow once more, the subtle cleft in his chin, the shape of his mouth.
He shifts a little in his sleep and it makes you tense, but all he does is curl closer to you, the arm beneath your head flexing as he presses his nose to your temple. His other arm comes to sling over your hip. Affection comes in thick waves to you then, rising in your throat like the tide and threatening to drag you beneath its depths forever. Overwhelmed and in love, you press your face to his chest and hope he doesn’t feel the tear that slips down the side of your face, sliding against the skin of his wrist.
Jason wakes not long after you do, mouth curving into a tired grin when he opens his eyes and Hope, dangerous and fickle thing that it is, burns bright through the morning.
Your name makes you look up from the covert game of not-quite-footsie you’ve been playing with Jason on the couch, trying to keep your giggles to a minimum as you kick his feet away from yours while the others linger in the kitchen, arguing about pizza toppings. Jia bounds over to the adjacent armchair and you get one last kick in before you straighten your expression.
“I haven’t seen you in ages!”
You grin at that, pointing teasingly at her. “That’s because you’ve been flaking on us! When was the last time I saw you?”
Her mouth pulls up into a grin and you’re drawn into a conversation with her, but it’s difficult to pay her your full attention. The press of Jason’s thigh against yours makes your head spin a little, even though he’s busying himself with something on his phone.
Hope has left the both of you teetering on the precipice of something the last week or so, and you’ve started to wonder whether it isn’t entirely implausible that you’re not reading into it. Jason had kept his arm around your shoulder when you’d gone grocery shopping the other day, snickering and leaning in over the console in his car to steal a kiss before you carried the shopping in. He’s been stealing bites of your food off the plate you’d balanced on your knees only a few minutes ago, now empty and set on the coffee table, your drink in his hand as he texts back his brother.
It takes only a few words from Jia for you to lose your footing. You feel Jason stiffen next to you and you pause, registering her words.
“How’s that guy you were seeing? Are you guys still together?”
“What?” you ask and she grins at you, oblivious.
“C’mon, you remember. It wasn’t that long ago. I thought you liked him.”
The precipice of something does not overlook what you had thought it had – you fall, fall, fall, and hope, delicate thing that it is, gutters out before your eyes. You feel Jason draw away from you in the seconds it takes you to reply, only shifting in his seat and already an abyss yawns between the both of you.
Jia, ignorant to the upheaval her words have caused, directs her attention to Jason.
“Did they not tell you?” she laughs, and you want to shake her, but you’re silent. “Oh my gosh, didn’t he show up after your class with flowers?”
Jason looks at you in surprise and you can tell he’s remembering the flowers you’d brought home months ago, bright and red, they’d taken up a spot on your dining table for a week before they’d wilted. You hadn’t bought any flowers home since then – it’d been months ago. Months before you’d ever even come close to touching him, an age before you’d reached whatever weird middle you two were in, playing house like you’d been. Months ago. You want to scream at Jia for even bringing it up but you know she doesn’t mean any harm and really – more than anything, you’re mad at yourself.
It’s your fault, you think, grief and panic curling tight in your chest as Jason mumbles an excuse about having to use the bathroom and rises from the couch. You’re the one who hasn’t made it clear to him, cowardly and comfortable in the in between. All the things you should’ve said slam against the roof of your mouth. You like him, he’s the only one you want to cuddle with on the couch and bring flowers.
The smile on your face feels like a painted grimace for the rest of the night, and you don’t ever seem to get within a few feet of Jason before something comes up and he’s whisked away into conversation. You’ve never seen him so social.
“Oh, by the way, man-” Alex says, when you’re gathered in the living room, swallowing a mouthful of the cruiser that only he can stand to drink. “Steph’s friend, what’s her name – she asked me for your number.”
You can’t help yourself from turning your head, stomach twisting itself into knots, and you meet Jason’s gaze for the briefest moments as he looks over, biting the inside of his cheek contemplatively before nodding his head. “Yeah, whatever. That’s fine, I guess.”
Well.
You remain rooted in your seat for what feels like the longest five minutes of your life, watching the movie with unseeing eyes before getting up with a half-hearted excuse to Jia.
“I’m gonna head home,” you whisper, pulling up a ride app. She turns to you with a pout.
“What? Noo.”
“I just remembered I’ve got a paper I have to turn in,” you grimace at her. “I’ll see you later.”
You whisper a bye to the host, crouching to your knees beside their chair and squeezing their arm with a promise to catch up later before you retreat, toeing your shoes on hastily and shutting the door behind you as softly as you can before rushing to the elevator.
In the car on the way home, you listen to the radio with the blood roaring in your ears. There’s a different kind of burning in your chest now, and by the time you reach your apartment, it threatens to leave only ash in its wake.
You lock your bedroom door when you storm inside, slumping onto your bed face down dramatically until it becomes hard to breathe, at which point you roll over. Staring at the ceiling, you feel the tears you’ve been holding back all night crowd your eyes, angry and leaving burning trails in their wake. You slam a fist against your mattress, letting out an aggravated sigh.
“Whatever,” you muse out loud stubbornly, ignoring the tremble in your voice, the lump in your throat that makes it difficult to swallow. “What the fuck ever. I don’t care.”
It’s a difficult thing to convince yourself of. When you hear the sound of the front door, nearing an hour or so later, your chest tightens in anxiety – far from uncaring, you sit up and watch the shadows in the hall move.
Footsteps pass outside your door, pausing only for a moment before you hear Jason’s door open and close. Your eyes burn once more.
You find it uncomfortable how quickly things turn grey in your home. There are no movie nights after that, no Jason peeking his head through the door of your room to ask you if you want to come with him to run errands, or to try the sauce he’s making for dinner, or if you have any clothes you need to throw in the wash because he’s got room in his basket and he needs to do a round. There isn’t much of anything, actually. Silence, thick and tense, hangs over the apartment and makes every noise all the louder.
You make your own meals, and Jason doesn’t look at you when you take your plate into your room. The groceries dwindle down and you go to the store after your class, only to come home and find bread already in the pantry when you go to put it away. The sight of it makes you grit your teeth, but you have no time to stare at it when you hear the click of Jason’s door opening, hurriedly stuffing the bread away before storming to your room.
There are times when you think Jason might break first on the cold war between the both of you out of pure frustration. It comes in the form of disapproving frowns when you return home late from classes, taking the bus instead of calling him – spite keeps you warm enough to make the short walk home as the weather cools – or leaving your dishes in the sink for the morning because you know he’s too stubborn to break first to yell at you about it. Still, he remains silent as you pass him in the hall.
“You guys need to kiss and make up about it,” is all that Steph has to say about it when you tell her, wrinkling her nose at the thought. “Seriously. He’s been so insufferable, I’m begging you. When he gets in a mood, I have to listen to Tim complain about it and I just don’t have the time to listen to him right now.”
“He can do whatever he wants,” you tell her frankly, curling into the corner of her couch. You pull at the sleeves of your hoodie, scowling at a thread that’s come loose. “I don’t care. He’s the one being childish.”
“Wrong.” She shakes her head, making a buzzing noise, as though the subject of your failed love life is as serious as a game show.
“He is,” you insist, nudging her thigh with a foot.
She shrugs, rolling her eyes skyward. “I never said he wasn’t. I just said you were wrong.”
It clicks for you, then, and you frown. “I’m not being childish, I’m just returning his energy.”
Steph’s face contorts into an expression of disbelief and you falter. “Why would you ever do that? Have you ever considered that just ‘cause he’s book smart doesn’t mean he’s love smart?”
It doesn’t make sense to you. Jason is whip-smart – it’s how he landed his job after graduation in the first place. You didn’t get to work at a leading firm without the credentials, and you’d been to his childhood home enough times to see the various certificates and medals filling a trophy case. Half the space in his room and your living room was taken up by the sheer amount of books in his collection, the spines worn and aged, spanning from romance to philosophy. You think he might be the smartest person you know – it doesn’t occur to you that he’s capable of occasionally making a mistake.
You tell Steph as much and she looks weary as she gears up to explain it once more to you.
“Does it feel right that things are like this between you?” You open your mouth to reply and she shoots you a piercing glare. “Be honest.”
Your shoulders slump. “No,” you admit, meekly.
“Then it doesn’t matter how he’s dealt with this,” she says, slapping her hands over your shoulders to give you a little shake. “You might as well try to fix it. And soon, please. I don’t think I can deal with the fallout from your lover’s spat again in this lifetime let alone this week.”
You apologise mentally to Steph when, going on a week later, you haven’t found the courage to approach Jason. Your temper wavers, constantly, as if unable to make its mind up. You go from shyness, hesitant to even leave your room for fear of bumping into him outside, to indignant, your pride demanding that he be the one to lay his armour down first. He’d accepted the other girl’s number to spite you.
Jealousy curls around your throat, tight, unforgiving, and fills your mind with thoughts of Jason, taking her out, looking at her in the way you want to steal all for yourself, eyes half-lidded and sweet; you imagine his fingers curling around hers, his shoulder brushing against hers on the couch. It makes you feel like you’re going insane, pressing your face into your pillow to let out silent screams, thrashing around on your mattress in the world’s quietest temper tantrum.
Spite drives you to sit in the living room on your day off and put on Gilmore Girls after Jason leaves for work, parking yourself on the couch and starting from the beginning of the series. You reason, despite the kernel of guilt that sits in the pit of your stomach, that even if you were watching the show without him, you a) had watched the show long before the two of you ever had officially started watching it together and b) hadn’t continued without him. The excuses feel pale to you, but you’re stubborn and it’s a harmless slight – one he won’t even know about.
Except, as it happens, you fall asleep in the afternoon and Jason happens to return home just as a new episode begins. You blame it on the tension of the last few days – you’d never slept better than when the two of you had been toeing the line of something more, but fighting with Jason steals sleep from you and you find it difficult to close your eyes without being met with the urge to stand at his door and make him hear you out. Pride and shame war within you at night in place of dreams, and you leave for your classes poorly rested.
You wake at the slam of the front door – you really need to speak to your landlord about replacing it, too heavy to close normally, but you’ve got your hands full being mad – and come face to face with a fuming Jason. He looks between you and the T.V, mouth dropping open.
“Are you serious?” he spits. It’s the first words he’s spoken to you in a week and you draw yourself to your full height, rising off the couch and planting your hands on your hips. His tone lights a fire within you, and you’re itching to let him have it.
“Excuse me?”
He narrows his eyes at you, scoffing. “You’re so...”
“I’m so what,” you sneer and he blusters for a moment, almost apoplectic.
“You’re so childish. What, we don’t talk for a few days and you’re gonna watch it without me?”
You stare at him, incredulous. “You’re the one that started ignoring me!”
“I didn’t see you trying to talk to me, either,” he retorts and your lip curls in anger.
“Why would I talk to -”
“Oh, I knew you would-” Jason cuts you off, but you’re unwilling to back down, raising your voice higher until the both of you are arguing over each other.
“Yeah, because you know everything – you’re so annoying -”
“I’m annoying-” he sputters, lifting a hand to point at the dishes. “I’m not the one leaving my dirty dishes in the sink. You’re disgusting.”
“Whatever, I don’t care. You wash them if they bother you so much! I’m not the one who forgets to wipe the counter in the bathroom after I use it!”
“That’s because you’re too busy leaving your clothes everywhere!”
On and on it goes, every petty grievance met with a complaint in turn. You argue until you’re heaving breaths and Jason is blue in the face, but none of it means a single thing to you, carrying the anger of a far bigger, unvoiced slight. And then, you don’t know how or why, but in a matter of seconds it is no longer unsaid. You’ve spilled it into the air between the both of you and Jason’s staring at you with a glint in his eye as if to say, finally.
“I can’t believe you took her number!”
And you hate the way your voice hitches on the last word, throat constricting as you stare at him reproachfully. You don’t let him reply, stepping closer angrily with your nails pressing into the palms of your hands, upset and hurt. “I told you not to talk to her and you just took it like-”
“Like what?” he challenges, and you can feel your eyes beginning to sting, humiliation washing hot over you. “Tell me.”
But you don’t know what to tell him. All you can do is stare, chest heaving and eyes wet. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he nods.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He lets out a breath, wiping a hand over his face wearily. “Whatever, I’ll talk. Do you have any idea how stupid I felt, playing like I’m your boyfriend and thinking maybe that’s what you want too–”
Your mouth opens helplessly, heart gripped in a tight vice at the hurt in his voice, his nose screwing up in upset.
“–and then I get the biggest reality check of my life, because I guess it isn’t what you want, but I just figured–” his voice cuts off then, and his eyes are ultramarine as he stares at you. “I just thought you’d be straight up with me.”
Panic engulfs you then, at the resignation in his face and you see it then, the profile of his back as he leaves, the packed boxes and the silence of an apartment too big for just one, the emptiness of the room next door, an ever clear mirror – you’re lurching forward before you can lose him.
“It is what I want!”
He doesn’t leave – yet. Your fingers grasp the sleeve of his hoodie tightly, and you can feel a few errant tears in the hollow beneath your eyes, marking a trail down the curve of your cheek as you stare at him.
“It is what I want,” you repeat yourself. Jason exhales shakily, but doesn’t make to remove your hand.
“Then – the guy?”
“I’m not seeing him,” you tell him, shaking your head fervently. “I haven’t -” Face warming, you duck your head. “For a long time...It’s only been you.”
He blinks slowly, lashes heavy as they flutter, eyes rimmed red. The tip of his nose is pink, too, you notice. Jason sniffs, looking away for a moment.
“Then why didn’t you say anything?” his voice is rough, and you take a step closer. Your heart hangs heavy in your chest, and you blink back your grief.
“I don’t know,” you admit. “I was scared. I guess I thought maybe I’d explain at home, but then...”
You trail off and above you, you can hear him kiss his teeth, face contorting into a grimace.
“I–” he blows out a breath. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you, ‘stead of assuming.”
“Yeah, you should’ve,” you tell him sullenly. He grimaces, and you sigh, squeezing his wrist gently. “I should’ve told you, earlier, though – I was too chicken to talk to you, I didn’t wanna ruin it.”
“You should’ve,” he echoes you, lightly, a hesitant grin on his lips. “It wouldn’t have ruined it.”
“I know that now. I thought..” you trail off, embarrassed. He turns his wrist over in yours, your palms kissing, and squeezes your hand encouragingly.
“What?”
“I thought you just wanted no-strings, I thought maybe I was just reading too much into it. You never said anything, either, I thought I’d just be wrecking it if I brought it up,” you admit, averting your eyes. When you chance a look back at him, he looks dismayed.
“I did want it,” he says, lips curving downwards into a frown. “I thought you wanted no-strings, ‘n I was the one being selfish, wanting you to myself.”
The both of you stay there like that, in the middle of your living room, hands linked and an abject feeling of disappointment weighing your hearts down.
“It’s not what I want,” you whisper, desperation lining your voice. “I – I feel crazy, that’s how much it isn’t what I want.”
“What do you want?” he asks, a tremor in his voice.
There’s that feeling again, that choking fear that closes your throat up and roots you to the floor. There’s terror at the thought of being known – but stronger still is the fear of walking away from him at the end of this and it being forever. You struggle, forcing the words out.
“You.” You feel your eyes water once more. “I want you. For me, only. I want you to look at me and steal food from my plate and want me and – and be mine. I don’t care that you nag me about the dishes and I don’t care that you never put your shoes away properly–”
At this, he lets out a choked laugh.
“– and I know we argue all the time, I know I get on your nerves, but I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. Properly, with all the strings attached,” you finish, letting out a shaky breath.
Seconds pass.
“Say something,” you whisper, hand still in his.
Jason offers you a wobbly smile. “I want you to be mine, too,” he says, voice wrought with longing. “It’s all I ever wanted. God, I thought I was going to lose it when Jia started talking about that guy, I kept thinking about him getting to see that side of you, make you smile – bringing you flowers, I want to be the one to do that.”
“You’re the only one I want that from,” you murmur and his lips curve downwards into a rueful smile.
“We’re both pretty stupid, huh?” he remarks. Then, looking away, he clears his throat. “Look, I’m not – I don’t like her like that. I told Alex later not to, uh, y’know. I don’t – I didn’t get her number. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place, but – yeah.”
You stare at him, feeling pressure behind your eyes. Your voice comes out wobbly when you reply, a congested, “Good.” that has his face dropping, moving to curl his arms around you.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs, and you shake your head, pressing your face into his chest. The smell of coffee clings to his shirt, and you breathe it in, comforted by the feeling of his arms holding you tightly to his chest. You cling to him, unwilling to part too soon after the ugliness of the last week, and it’s only when he laughs your name against your temple, curling inwards to meet your height, tall as he is, do you pull away to look up at him.
“Can you-” your face grows warm. “Will you..kiss me?”
The expression on his face is immeasurably soft. You think, a week ago, if you had asked him this way, he might’ve laughed at the tone of your voice, needled you a bit about being so shy. You understand his gentleness now, though, as he murmurs a,
“Yeah, sweetheart. Come here.”
Your wounds remain tender, and Jason kisses you as though you’re something delicate, something to be treasured, lips slanting over yours, feather light, before he presses closer. He’s syrupy sweet, kissing you slow. There’s a newness in every touch, every shared breath and sigh. Hands that have trailed your waist and hips so many times before now squeeze your palms, fingers intertwined like a promise. He breathes your name against your lips, nose pressing into your cheek, still sticky with tears.
“I love you,” you tell him, and he kisses you once more.
In the middle of your living room, you begin anew.
fin.
author's note: holy fuck. here is 17.6k words of what i thought was going to be 80% smut 20% emotion and ended up being whatever this is. i said i wasn't going to start a longfic during the semester and then this would NOT stop bothering me so. here we are...that content warning looks like an ingredients list for real.
anyway i'll post an author's note on ao3 that doesn't sound like brainrot. probably. idk this fic isn't that deep. reader and jason r extremely unserious and also probably a little shitty but it's okay. it's the roomie verse! we didn't come here for innocent angel characters. let's be serious! also i tried to fit in every single roomieverse hc that i could sorry they r something like easter eggs to me. swifties have t@ylor swift you have ME! i was gonna say something about that woman but let me not speak ab her too much with a folklore inspired username LMAO
#divider by ithemes#jasonsmirrorball#roommate!jason#jason todd x reader#jay my heart#jason todd imagine#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x you#x reader#jason todd fic#jason todd smut
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