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misshoneyimhome · 2 months

Note

I’m OBSESSED with your prompt list & I want to request everything for Jack, but don’t want to spam you 😭 so I’ll do one to start hahaha

Can you do Jack with the prompt “Can you help me with my tie?” / “Can you zip up my dress for me?” — either one or both, whatever you’re feeling :)) <3

Babe, feel free to spam me anytime 😉 Although, I'm still practicing my writing skills when it comes to Jack H 🤍

But of course - though I did do a bit of a combo of the two 🌺 and in the end, it turned out to be nothing but sweet fluff

Hope you enjoy it 🤍

Word count; 2.1K

[bestfriend!Jack x reader] - again, I know 🙈

・✶ ｡ﾟ

As one of Jack Hughes’ closest friends, you were simply there for him through thick and thin. From the early days of his hockey career to then, as he’d become a big name in the NHL, you saw every success and setback, always giving him your unwavering support and encouragement.

Your bond with the Devils' star player was definitely something special, built on trust, mutual respect, and shared experiences. Together, you faced the ups and downs of life in the spotlight, as well as found solace in each other's company amidst the chaos of the hockey world.

And to put it bluntly, it wasn’t uncommon for people to mistake you as a couple. Although you tried not to post anything on social media, rumours often circulated. Even family members assumed there was something more to the story when he brought you over at almost every holiday family gathering. However, you were nothing more than his best girl friend. Which to him was probably the highest status one could ever get.

Despite Jack's busy schedule and the demands of his career, you just always remained a constant presence in his life, providing stability and comfort. Whether it was cheering him on from the stands at games or simply being there to listen after a tough loss, you were always there when he needed you most.

You even saw every girl who tried their luck with him, and all of them failed to stick around. Though you weren’t really sure why that was always the case. To you Jack was a good guy, busy sure, but good overall and anyone would be lucky to be with him. However, you could also understand that often his demanding lifestyle simply became too much for anyone to handle. And after every time he showed up at your place, you were the support he needed through every breakup.

And Jack cherished your friendship immensely. With you, he could be himself without any pretence, knowing that you'd accept him exactly as he was. He could put on a facade and a guard for the rest of the world, but with you, he knew it was of no use. You always saw right through him, for better or for worse.

So, when Jack invited you to join him at the Devils’ team event, it wasn't a surprise to anyone. Spending such time together had become second nature to you both, a cherished ritual that brought comfort and joy. You'd even spent so much time with his teammates that a lot of them had grown to be your close friends as well. They were almost like the protective brothers you'd never had.

And you, of course, accepted his invitation without hesitation. So, as you got ready for the event together, you felt a sense of excitement in the air, anticipating a night filled with laughter, camaraderie, and maybe even something more.

Jack stood in front of the mirror, his face displaying frustration as he attempted to knot his tie once again. Though it was something he'd often do before a match, tonight it just didn’t seem to work out for him. The smooth fabric slipped through his fingers, refusing to cooperate despite his repeated attempts. But then, with a soft sigh, he caught a glimpse of your reflection in the doorway, a knowing smile adorning your face.

"Struggling there?" you teased, slowly moving closer to him.

Turning to you, Jack looked relieved. "Actually, yes. Could you help me with my tie?" His voice held a touch of embarrassment, a contrast to his usual confidence on the ice, which made you chuckle softly.

"Of course," you replied, closing the gap between you and reaching for the silk tie. Your fingers skilfully worked the fabric into a perfect knot in no time. And as you adjusted it, your eyes met his in the mirror, and there was an unexpected shift between you, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air.

Then once Jack had sorted his tie, his gaze lingered on you, admiring the elegant lines of your evening dress, and he simply couldn't look away, struck by how stunning you appeared.

"Wow, you look amazing, y/n/n," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

A blush crept onto your cheeks at his compliment, a soft smile forming in response. But before you could form a reply, though, you remembered the zipper on your dress.

"Actually, I could use your help too," you confessed, your voice barely audible. Turning slightly, you presented your back to him, feeling a tiny surge of nerves at the intimacy of the request.

And without hesitation, Jack moved closer, his presence sending a wave of anticipation through you. His hands brushed lightly against your skin as he reached for the zipper, the gentle touch surprisingly sparking some kind of awareness between you.

As his fingers softly traced your back, you felt an unfamiliar desire stirring within you, drawing you both a little closer together. And unintentionally, you leaned in a little closer to him, prompting him to gently rest his palms on your waist, as for a brief moment, time stood still, and you admired each other in the mirror.

It was a moment of soft intimacy hanging in the air, and you couldn’t deny that thoughts were starting to form in your mind. Thoughts that had been there before, yet you always just shook them off, as you didn’t believe they’d mean anything - Was there truly nothing more between you and Jack, or had you been fooling yourselves this whole time?

However, with the evening's urgency weighing on both of you, the passing seconds reminded you of the time slipping away. And with a small sigh, Jack reluctantly pulled away, his hands lingering for a moment longer before he finally zipped up your dress.

"We should probably head out," he said, a hint of regret in his voice.

And you nodded in agreement, carefully stepping away from him. Yet, despite the pressing schedule, the electric tension between you remained, silently hinting at what perhaps could be.

As the night progressed, Jack found himself unable to shake the growing feelings in his heart. And if anything, they only seemed to deepen with each passing moment, fuelled by seeing you effortlessly mingling with the other guests at the event.

"She's looking good, huh?" Luke's voice suddenly snapped Jack out of his thoughts, bringing him back to reality.

"Yeah, she really does..." he replied softly, his gaze still fixed on you from across the room, drawn in by the warmth of your smile.

And Luke couldn’t suppress his amusement and grinned knowingly, nudging Jack with a playful elbow. "So, are you going to make a move or what?"

"What do you mean?" Jack pretended innocence, though his eyes revealed the truth of his emotions.

And Luke had to roll his eyes, not buying Jack's act. "Come on, man, you're practically drooling over her right now."

"I'm not drooling... I'm just admiring how great my best friend looks..." Jack tried to defend himself, but he knew it was futile.

"Sure, sure, but we both know that you're totally checking her out!" Luke laughed, finding the situation more than amusing.

For months, if not years, Luke had had a bet with Quinn about when you and Jack would finally admit your feelings for each other. And not just as best friends. It was obvious to everyone how both of you always tried to act calm and nonchalant, however, there were often hints of something lingering in the back of your minds. Yet, none of you took the step to admit it.

And amidst the brotherly banter, Nico suddenly interrupted with a grin at the sight of their exchange. "What's going on? Who's checking out who?"

"Oh, just Jack ogling y/n," Luke teased, earning a chuckle from Nico.

"I'm not... ogling her!" Jack protested, though the teasing only fuelled his growing attraction.

"Well, I wouldn't blame you if you were. I mean, she looks really hot tonight," Nico chimed in with a mischievous grin. "I mean, if you don't make a move on her, someone else might."

And those words seemed to hit Jack like a splash of cold water, stirring a hint of jealousy in his gut at the thought of someone else showing interest in you. Especially a teammate of his. It was as if it was the push he needed to finally gather the courage to act on his true feelings.

So, as the event neared its end, Jack started to feel a little nervous about speaking his mind, which wasn’t usual for him. But as he prepared to bid farewell, determination surged within him. He simply couldn't let the night pass without expressing his feelings, without taking a chance on what could be.

Standing by the exit of the venue, Jack took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to say. He then reached out, gently taking your hand in his, sending a jolt of electricity through you with his touch.

"Y/n, there's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice trembling slightly with nerves. "Tonight... tonight was different for me.”

“Jack, what do you mean?” you flashed him a crooked smile, slightly unsure what he was trying to say.

“I mean, I think… I think I realised that I have feelings for you, more than just friendship."

His words hung in the air, the weight of them palpable. And as you looked at him, your heart was beating faster than you’d ever experienced. You had to swallow hard as you processed his confession. But then he continued.

"I know this might come as a surprise, and I completely understand if you don't feel the same way," he added with a crooked smile, his gaze searching yours for any hint of a response. "But I couldn't let tonight end without at least trying to tell you how I fe-"

Interrupting him with a surge of confidence, you reached up and tenderly held his face in your hands, pulling him into a gentle kiss. And in that moment, as your lips were connected, Jack felt a rush of emotion engulf him, a sense of completeness and contentment unlike anything he had ever known.

There was a comfortable warmth spreading through him as his mind processed your actions, and though almost completely frozen, he still managed to respond with his hands finding your hips.

And as you slowly parted from the kiss, his heart couldn’t stop racing with a mix of excitement and relief. He looked into your eyes, trying his best to read your thoughts.

"Y/n, I... I," he started, uncertainty evident in his voice.

But you simply smiled softly, your fingers tracing his cheek. "Jack, I've been feeling the same way," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just didn't know how to say it."

Relief flooded through Jack, his tension easing as he released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "Really?" he asked, disbelief tinting his voice.

You nodded, a shy smile gracing your lips. "Yes, really."

And suddenly, it was like a giant wave of happiness washed over Jack, filling him with a warmth he hadn't felt in ages. Without another word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

"Shit, then I’m really happy I told you," he murmured into your hair, his voice brimming with gratitude.

"Me too," you replied with a light chuckle, planting a kiss on his chest. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I just didn’t want to risk… you know, our friendship in case you didn’t feel the same."

“Yeah… I guess I’ve just sort of realised… sorry it took so long,” he added with a sweet chuckle.

“Oh, you know, better late than never.”

And wrapped in each other's embrace, Jack knew this was where you belonged. Looking into your eyes, he vowed to do whatever it took to make you happy, to build a future together filled with love and laughter.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Luke and Nico observed the sweet interaction between the two of you. And with a heartfelt chuckle, Luke turned to Nico with a smug expression.

“Guess I can call Quinn and tell him I won the bet then.”

“What was the bet on?” Nico inquired with a chuckle.

“Oh, just that he said they wouldn’t admit anything before one of them was in a serious relationship,” Luke explained. “But I didn’t think they’d ever get that far.”

“And clearly, you were right,” the captain let out a deep laugh.

#my asks #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #new jersey devils imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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babydollmarauders · 5 months

Text

WRAPPED UP IN A BOW — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which y/n welcomes Quinn home with a gift

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, praise, oral (f receiving), p in v (unprotected). (3.1k words)

notes: welcome to day 8 of the 12 days of kinkmas!

a week. seven days. one hundred and sixty-eight hours.

that’s how long my husband has been out of town.

four road games done and over with and now he’s finally coming home to me.

in retrospect, getting married at the very end of the summer wasn't the best decision Quinn and i have ever made. with no time for a honeymoon before he had to be back in Vancouver for training camp, and then hockey season starting, we've had barely any time to relax and bask in the joy of being newlyweds.

which may be why i'm feeling particularly in the holiday spirit. one more home game and then we get almost an entire week to laze around, celebrate the holidays, and just enjoy the life of being newly married.

i’ve spent the last three days decorating our apartment; a wreath on the front door, our tree with ornaments hung gently on the branches, mistletoe over every doorway. miscellaneous holiday themed trinkets are scattered throughout our home.

but my favorite part of the past few days isn’t the decor, or the music i’ve had blasting, or even the christmas cookies i baked. rather, it’s the idea that popped into my head while shopping for all of the said decor online; when i found a body bow.

and after numerous hours, which were impatiently waited through, and countless youtube tutorials, i sit perched upon the end of my bed, wrapped snugly in the red satin bow.

my breasts are tied high and taut, pushed together tightly by the soft fabric and half covered by the oversized bow; while a strip of the satin reaches over one shoulder and through my legs. technically, all intimate areas are covered, but with one tug of the bow, it would all unravel, leaving me naked and ready. a present for my husband to enjoy.

my eyes are glued to my phone, Quinn’s location dancing across the screen, getting closer and closer to our apartment with each passing second.

it’s not often that i would be awake so late, waiting up for him. often times, i’m asleep when he gets back from a roadie, only waking up when i feel his strong arms wrap around me in bed.

as his location pings at our apartment complex, my heart beat rises in my chest, excitement pulling at my every atom. i’m shaky, phone haphazardly tossed onto my nightstand before i get into position; legs crossed and my weight leaned back on my hands.

it feels as though time is dragging on, towing through metaphorical mud. seconds feel like hours as i wait to hear him enter our apartment.

all the lights are off leading into our room, adding to the illusion that he’ll find me fast asleep.

i’m so lost in thought, knees bouncing in exhilaration, that it isn’t until i hear footsteps bounding down the hall that i realize he’s arrived. blood whirls in my ears, my skin heating up at the mere thought of his touch.

“no, she’s probably asleep.” his words carry through the echoey hallway, “Jack, i’m not waking my wife so you can ask her relationship advice. just call her tomorrow.”

i bite back a laugh as i listen to the one sided conversation with his brother. Quinn’s voice turns hushed as he gets closer to our bedroom, obviously attempting not to ‘wake’ me.

the doorknob twists, the door creaking open to display my husband. his head is down, phone pressed to his ear as he carries his road bag into the room. even from here i can see the crease thats formed between his threaded brows, dark bags accentuated under his green eyes.

he turns, gently closing the door behind him with minimal noise, but when he turns back around, his eyes meet mine. his eyes widen, lips parting with a gentle huff of air before he mutters a quick parting to his brother.

“i gotta go, just call her tomorrow.” the call is quickly hung up, his phone set on the dresser with his bag, never breaking eye contact.

“welcome home.” i watch with a crooked smirk as his eyes rake over my figure, slowly dragging down my body before scanning his way back up.

“fucking shit.”

a giggle rises up my throat at his curse, his steps towards me hurried. he sinks down to his knees, eyeing the intricate bow that graces my body. with his hands finding my knees, he carefully pulls my legs apart so that he can fit between them.

“shit, baby,” he pauses, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a moment, “this all for me?”

i nod, peering down at him with the most innocent eyes that i can summon.

“mhm,” my tone is quiet but sultry, “played so well, and i missed you so much.”

he stands, towering over me now with a dark expression, his pupils blown out in lust.

“yeah? you missed me?” he questions, coaxing a nod of my head, “how bad?”

“so bad, Quinny.” i whine, hands grasping at his tie.

“did you touch yourself? you push your fingers into your pretty pussy? imagine they were mine as you made yourself cum in our bed?”

his words elicit a broken whimper from my throat, my eyelids fluttering as he wraps a hand around the back of my neck, forcing me to tip my head up to him.

“did you imagine my head between your thighs?” his voice drops, “my tongue licking your wet cunt? making you scream?”

my legs are shaking to close, to clench together and bring some much needed relief to my soaked core; but his body blocks me from doing so.

“yes.” i breathe out, eyes closing as he dips down to capture my lips in a bruising kiss.

his tongue slips past my parted lips, the result of a sudden gasp after his fingers curl into my hair, tugging just slightly.

the kiss is messy and deep, tongue’s tangling and pushing against each other, and when he pulls away, saliva coats my lips.

“lay back, baby.”

i drop back at his demand, hair sprawling across the soft mattress behind my head, and watch as best i can as my husband lowers back down to his knees until i can no longer see him.

it’s not but a second later that i feel his soft lips brush against my inner thigh, kissing a path up my leg. an unignorable pulse sparks between my thighs, thumping harder with each kiss, as he gets closer and closer to my wet heat.

wanton moans break the silence of the room, my body quivering with lustful anticipation; but before he can reach the spot in which i need him most, he pulls back, steadily repeating the process on the opposite leg.

a muted whine pulls from my lips as he shifts his path, bypassing my covered core and kissing up my torso. our eyes lock in a heated exchange, neither set looking away, as his open mouthed kisses reach an end, the oversized bow blocking his path.

but just when i think he’ll back away, he captures one tail of the bow between his teeth, slowly pulling back to unravel the satin knot. the glossy fabric falls off my chest, pooling around my body, revealing my bare breasts. my nipples are peaked with desire, stiffened by a mixture of lust and the cold air.

Quinn stares down at me, admiring my exposed figure, before he continues his journey, pressing wet kisses up my sternum. as he reaches my throat, he begins sucking, teeth grazing against my skin before he presses his tongue against it, pulling away to blow cool air against the spot.

shivers travel down my spine, my back arching up into him as he finally presses his lips against mine once more.

“so beautiful.” he mumbles, his hot breath fanning across my lips, swollen and indented with the mark of my teeth.

dragging himself back down to his knees, my jaw slackens as his breath hits my core.

“you’re dripping for me, baby.”

his tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe up my cunt, and my head tips back further into the mattress, my legs pulled over his shoulders as he groans.

“you really are a fucking gift.” he growls, his fingertips tightening in a bruising grip on my thighs.

my breath catches in my throat, blood rushing to my head as his tongue flattens against my clit. he wiggles it back and forth, softly playing with the bud of nerves.

my hands fly forward, tangling into the fluffy waves of hair that fall onto his forehead. as his tongue tenses, trailing down to flick into my entrance, he spreads my wetness, earning a harsh tug of his hair.

my grip coaxes a laugh of confidence from my husband, his chuckles reverberating through my core, and a screamed cry of pleasure echoes off of our bedroom walls, his name falling from my lips like a solemn prayer.

“Quinn, please,” i whimper, a single digit swiping through my wetness and making my voice falter into a high pitched moan.

“doing so well for me, baby.” his praises set my skin alight, heartbeat thumping in my throat.

his middle finger delves slowly into me, curling up into my g-spot as his lips enclose gently around my clit. pumping in, he slowly gets me ready, slipping his index finger in when he deems me lubricated enough.

my thighs close around his head, his free hand snaking his way around to push my leg open, a choked sob of arousal leaving my throat.

i can feel my orgasm creeping up on me, my stomach tying in knots as my eyes roll back.

suckling at my clit, he rolls it softly between puckered lips, his fingers alternating between hooking upwards and scissoring my cunt, slowly stretching me out and preparing me for his cock.

as his fingers speed and his tongue begins to circle and flick against my clit, my legs shake, hands gripping tighter into his hair while curses fall from my lips.

“Quinn,” tears gather along my waterline at the immense wave of pleasure that rolls through my body, “oh my god, right there!”

the tips of his fingers push against my g-spot with every thrust, my back arching as i can feel myself get closer and closer to the edge.

my husband moans, vibrations carrying through my core and spurring me over the edge. my walls tighten around his fingers, trapping them inside of me, and my hips grind against his soft lips as i reach my release.

heavy breathing sounds through the room as i lay back in ecstasy, recovering from my intense orgasm. pulling his cum coated fingers from my dripping pussy, Quinn’s lips pull away from my swollen clit with a pop.

“you taste like heaven.” he hums, coaxing my eyes to open, watching him suck his fingers clean of my release.

“Quinny,” i breathe out, hands reaching out to pull him forward by his tie as he rises from his knees, “i need you.”

“i’m right here, pretty girl.” he gruffs, a hand resting on the bed next to my head, holding himself up as he hovers above me.

he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the spot where my jawline meets my ear. trailing up until he reaches my chin, he suddenly diverts, his lips meeting mine in a gentle kiss.

our lips dance together, his free hand grazing up my body until he reaches my breasts. his thumb rubs over my stiffened nipple, circling it lightly before pinching, the stark contrast drawing a moan from deep within my throat.

i can feel his erection pressing against my upper thigh, my hips jolting up into his in order try and relieve some tension.

pushing lightly at his chest, Quinn immediately backs away, worry filling his eyes, “what’s wrong? did i do something?”

rather than answer, i sit up, beginning to untie his tie. i pull it free from his collar before my hands push at his suit jacket.

“take it off,” i whine as my hands fumble, “all of it, Quinn. i need you. i need to see you.”

his hand cups my cheek, thumb rubbing over my cheekbone as he chuckles, eyes looking into mine.

“get up on the pillows,” he gruffs, watching with fervor as i follow his command, kicking the long forgotten satin fabric off the bed and onto the floor. “good girl.”

sitting with my back propped on the pillows, i watch my husband undress; his suit jacket tossed on the dresser, his button up dropped to the floor as well as the undershirt, before finally the clink of his belt sounds through the silent room.

i admire his upper body as he undresses, mentally praising all the hard work and training that’s led to his muscular arms and tight physique. my mouth waters and i yearn to press kisses to his pale torso, but i stay rooted in my spot, knowing better than to move.

fully naked, his cock stands tall, fully erect with a pink tip, precum beading at the slit, and i don’t think before my hand reaches out, wrapping around his length as he crawls over me.

i squeeze just slightly, my thumb running over his tip and spreading the precum, earning a hiss of satisfaction from my husband.

“stop,” he groans, vocal chords tight, “you want me to fuck you, right?”

i peer up at him with innocence, nodding my head quickly.

“then don’t be a greedy little slut,” my hand drops at his words, allowing him to take a deep breath, “hands and knees, baby.”

i scramble into position, craning my neck to watch his facial expressions as he grabs his base, guiding his cock through the lubricant of my residual cum.

my body shivers as he glides himself through my slick folds, wetting his dick thoroughly. he slides over clit, my legs instantly wobbling as i make a silent squeak.

“Quinn,” my voice shakes, but before i can continue, he’s pushing into me, my back contorting as he runs a hand over my spine.

“that’s it, baby,” he coos after i let out a loud moan, “take it like a good girl.”

i reach back with one hand, desperately grappling behind me for his touch. my request is granted when he grabs my hand, holding it in earnest as his other holds my hip.

“fuck me,” i cry, pushing backwards to sheath him entirely inside of me, “please, i need you to fuck me.”

Quinn clicks his tongue against his teeth, my head hanging forward as he stills, teasing me. i part my lips to begin begging again, but he silences me quick, pulling entirely out before slamming back into me.

he drops my hand in favor of gripping both hips, fucking into me with harsh and unforgiving thrusts.

my arms feel like jello beneath me, quivering with every graze of his tip against my g-spot, until finally i fall to my elbows.

his thighs smack against mine, each thrust pushing me further up the bed until i have to place my palms on the headboard, keeping me steady as my knees dig into the memory foam mattress.

“so fucking wet,” he grunts, pulling my focus to the lewd sounds of his cock sliding through my wetness, “my pretty fucking wife, so ready for me; so easy to please.”

i whine at the use of ‘wife’, the title still bringing goosebumps to the top of my flesh.

“yours,” i gasp, eyes rolling back as he slows his strokes, angling his hips for his cock to run over my g-spot, “all yours. your wife.”

“yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he breathes, “you like being my wife? you like letting me fuck you and call you mine? forever.”

his hand slides to my front, sprawling over my stomach before dipping down to let his finger apply pressure to my pulsing clit.

“yes!” i squeal, hips jerking from the pleasure, “yes, Quinn, yes!”

his finger draws circles on my clit, thrusts speeding as i clench around him.

“who am i?”

my stomach fills with pressure, toes curling as my hair falls into my face.

“my husband!” i scream, legs shaking underneath me.

his finger never relents, my overworked clit tingling, and i can barely stutter out that i’m close before he’s leaning forward, pressing kisses to my sweat coated back.

his soft lips against my heated skin send me over the edge, my eyes drawing shut as i let out an intense breathy moan. my walls clench but his thrusts never ease, only fucking into me with more intensity as he chases his own high, and within a minute, he finds it.

his hips falter, his grip tightening on my hips as he lets out a strangled cry, ropes of cum spilling out of him and mingling with my own.

it’s silent as he stops, nothing but heavy pants and the squelching sound of him pulling out, before he lays down, finally allowing me to drop onto my stomach beside him.

a breathy chuckle leaves his lips, my face buried into the pillow beside him, and he reaches over to scoop me into his arms, helping turn my body until my head is resting in the crook of his neck.

“what a welcome home present.” he laughs, still out of breath, and i giggle into his neck.

“figured you might like that.” i yawn, eyes fluttering shut as i rest a hand on his chest, “well worth staying up.”

“hey,” he coos, head back away in order to look at me. i pry my eyes open, staring up into his, “don’t go falling asleep yet, baby. you need a bath.”

i groan, attempting to burrow further into him, “but i’m so tired.”

he rolls his eyes at my drawn out whine, gently nudging me off of him so he can stand up.

“i’m gonna go draw a bath and get some wine. you don’t fall asleep.”

i nod sleepily, pulling myself up in a sitting position to keep myself from dozing off.

it’s not but five minutes later that Quinn returns, helping me into his arms and carrying me into the bathroom. he sets me down into the hot water of the bubble bath, grabbing the wine glasses off the counter and handing them to me before he slips in behind me, taking his glass back.

having out a deep sigh, i relax into his chest, his free arm wrapping around the front of my waist.

“so,” i start, making him laugh at my tired tone, “how was the trip?”

#faithlynn’s 12 days of kinkmas #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes blurb #vancouver canucks #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #faithlynn’s writings <3

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zepskies · 6 months

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 9

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥Series Masterlist

AN: As promised, comin' at ya a day early! ❤️‍🔥 I hope you enjoy...

Word Count: 5,100 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, fluff, and angst.

Part 9: “Do Not Disturb”

“No one’s gotta know,” he replied. His voice was deeper, laced with grit. “Just try to stay quiet.”

Biting your lip, you slowly began to rock your hips. You had to let out a shaky breath as your clothed core found delicious friction against his muscled thigh, through his pants.

Dean broke through your nerves by claiming your lips. He sucked your bottom lip between both of his, grazing with his teeth. Your fingers sunk into his hair and gripped tight.

He groaned a little, and he slipped past the seam of your lips to slide his tongue against yours, curling and mimicking motions you’ve felt his tongue make inside you.

You moaned a bit too loud at that.

“Shhhh,” he said, low and quiet.

The back of his curled fingers grazed your neck, then down to squeeze and tease one of your breasts through the soft wool of your dress, over the satin bra underneath.

You had to utter a more restrained sound of pleasure at his touch; it was gentle, but firm and purposeful in every way. You couldn’t help but roll your hips harder, finding more friction against your clit and seeking more of the heat now throbbing inside you.

But just as you were about to encourage him to take the dress off, there was a knock on the cubicle door.

You froze, gripping his shoulders tight as your eyes went wide.

Dean broke his lips from yours fast. You were already starting to blush down to your neck. He glanced at you with a cocky smile before he subtly cleared his throat.

“Yeah?” he answered.

Everyone knew his policy: if his door was open, then it was fair game for anyone to pop in on him. But if his office door was closed, he was either busy with paperwork, or taking a nap. AKA: Do Not Disturb.

“Hey, Lieutenant. Just letting you know that lunch is almost ready,” Jack said through the door.

Dean nodded at that in relief. Nothing serious.

“Okay, sounds good. Thanks,” he said. He started to brush his fingers up and down your spine, eliciting a small shudder from you.

You still gave him an incredulous look. How could he keep touching you when one of his teammates was on the other side of the door?

“Oh, and I went to the store yesterday and got the right coffee this time. Gevalia, right?” Jack asked.

“Yep, good job. I’ll be out in a few minutes,” Dean replied. He chanced slipping a hand up the inside of your thigh. His thumb leisurely stroked your clit through your underwear, enhancing the flood of wetness he could already feel through the fabric.

It took everything within you to keep your lips pressed together with no sounds escaping, though a slightly ragged breath released through your nose. Your nails bit warningly into his shoulders. His lips twitched at a smirk.

“Sure thing,” Jack said. “And we’re running drills later, right?”

Dean held himself against an impatient sigh.

“You got it, Candidate. Be ready, I’m kicking your ass today.”

Jack chuckled gamely. “I look forward to it, sir.”

Dean didn’t really like being called “sir.” It made him feel like his dad or something. He wouldn’t say anything about it now though. He preferred to hear Jack’s steps retreating.

When he sensed the coast was clear, he turned his attention back to you. You met him with a reluctant smile. But he stilled your hips when you moved to get off him.

“Where’re you goin’?” he teased.

You let out a quiet laugh. “I think we’ve pressed our luck enough for today.”

Dean leaned in to kiss your cheek. His lips then veered off toward your ear.

“But see, I’m pretty damn sure that pussy’s still on fire,” he said.

The depths in his voice made you shiver. Your spine undoubtedly prickled with arousal again.

He smiled. “You understand, I can’t let you go just yet.”

Was it getting hard to breathe, or was that just you? You swallowed and let your fingers thread through his hair.

“What…um…where then?” you whispered. “Anyone could walk in here…”

He smirked against your neck and teased you with a nipping kiss there, making you inhale sharply. He doubted anyone was dumb enough to walk into his office without knocking, but these walls weren’t by any means soundproof. And he could see that you had your reservations.

“Okay, come on,” he said.

He released your neck and finally let go of your hips. He helped you stand on shaky legs, and you smoothed your pretty dress back down. You gave him a helpless look that said, Dear God, what now?

He smiled and took your hand.

“There’s one last stop on the tour,” he said.

You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head as he led you outside the firehouse and through a side door—into what felt like a large coat closet.

Essentially, that’s what it was. It held all the firefighters’ gear, from helmets, gloves, and overalls to matching navy jackets, lined with neon strips on the sleeves and mid-sections, as well as emblazoned with their last names on the back.

“I see why this was last on the tour,” you remarked dryly. Dean’s hand dropped to your hip as he flipped on the light and shut the door behind him. You felt the heat of his body against your back and tried to resist leaning into him.

“You’re getting the VIP treatment,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice.

But instead of turning you in his arms and pressing you against the wall, like you half-expected, Dean showed you where his gear was hanging up, further into the closet. You first tugged out the sleeve of his jacket. You ran your hand over the capital letters stitched on the back: WINCHESTER. It looked clean, but well worn.

You pulled out a large, but kind of scary looking mask next. It was black and yellow and had a large filter in the front. You knew this was what allowed him to breathe while walking through smoke-filled buildings, but you couldn’t imagine having to wear it for very long.

“This just looks uncomfortable,” you said.

Dean’s lips quirked. “Eh, you get used to it.”

You were curious though. You tried slipping the mask on and struggled, even when Dean tried to help you. Eventually he got the SCBA mask fitted correctly over your face. You were sure you looked ridiculous, and even though you weren’t claustrophobic, this certainly made you feel uncomfortable and closed in.

“It’s like living in a fishbowl,” you complained, already struggling to get it off. “How the hell do you see anything, let alone storm burning buildings in this thing?”

Again, Dean helped you with a chuckle. He was careful not to catch your hair as he slid it off your face and over your head.

“With a lotta training,” he said. “I practiced here at the house, at home, wherever I could. First just 10, 15 minutes at a time. Then half an hour, an hour or more. However long I could take it. I’d watch TV, cook, listen to music. Anything to make it feel more natural, like a pair of pool goggles.”

Your brows raised. “Color me impressed. I think I’d pass out.”

You adjusted where he put the mask, making sure it fit properly on the shelf next to his black helmet. Your hand passed over his jacket once more before you turned to him and let your hand run down his chest.

“Thanks for showing me around,” you said with a smile. “This place has got to be like a second home to you.”

Dean smiled back as he tugged you closer by your hips. “I’m here more than I’m at home.”

Your expression faded a bit as you considered that, and his hanging jacket.

“Have you ever gotten hurt?” you asked. You didn’t think you’d ever asked that yet.

His eyes dimmed, just a little, but his good humor remained. He was about to deflect. You just knew it.

“A couple scrapes here and there. Nothing major,” he said.

You didn’t know how much of that you could believe. You had a feeling he was like your grandfather, and not just when it came to his taste in music. Dean was a certified “downplayer.”

“Right,” you said. You also wracked your brain, trying to remember if you’d seen any noticeable scars, or even burns on his body.

Dean shook his head and dipped down to kiss you. It took you a bit by surprise, but you inhaled sharply as your eyes closed at the feeling of him.

“You’re thinkin' too much,” he said against your lips. And he claimed you again, deeper and deeper, until you were gripping his arms for dear life and he was walking you back to press you against the nearest wall. His hand clenched in your hair, then dragged down the column of your neck, raising goosebumps wherever he touched.

His lips soon replaced his hand. They burned a trail of wet, teeth-grazing kisses down your neck, along the scoop neckline of your dress, dipping his tongue between your breasts. You held him to you with panting breaths. But you also let your free hand wander.

You untucked his shirt from his pants and began roaming the planes of his back underneath the fabric, then the firm wall of his chest and sternum, all the way down to his belt.

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them up against the wall by your head. His molten green eyes stared down into yours, as his knee pressed between your legs. You shuddered and arched into him. Your fingers curled around his hands unconsciously.

“Dean…”

“Gotta thank my girl for giving me such a nice surprise at work,” he said. You felt his lips grinning against yours, even as he grinded his hips into you with blinding friction. You tried to restrain your gasp at the feel of his hard length pressing against your core. Even though you wanted nothing more than more of this, you still had to voice your concerns.

“Dean,” you whispered with more urgency. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry about that.”

You stared up at him incredulously. How could you not?

But he distracted you by sliding his hands sensuously down your arms. Down your sides and hips, just to drag the knitted hem of your dress up from your thighs. Then he slid down, all the way to his knees.

Your eyes widened as his smirk grew deeper. He looked up at you slyly from the ground, and it reminded you of giving him a very similar look when you’d gone down to your knees for him for the first time.

His fingers brushed your skin as he slipped your panties down to your ankles, over your knee-high boots. You fought a shudder at the feeling.

“You’ve got a thing for sexy shoes, huh?” he remarked.

A smile crossed your lips. Shaking your head, you helped him by kicking off your underwear.

“I think you’re the one with the fixation,” you teased back. “I just like what I like.”

Dean chuckled. “Couldn’t agree more.”

He hooked a hand behind your knee and brought one leg over his shoulder. His hand traveled up your leg, and his head turned to press a line of wet kisses up the inside of your thigh.

You sighed, letting your fingers run through his hair as your eyes closed. But your eyes popped open on a gasp as you felt him suck hard near your center, biting and then soothing the spot with his tongue.

You shot him a furrowed look, despite the incredulous smile tugging at your lips.

He just grinned. “Had to be sure you were paying attention.”

You huffed a laugh and gave a sharp tug on his hair. It made him grunt and try to swallow a groan, deep in his throat.

“How’s that?” you quipped back.

“Touché, baby,” he said. But the problem with that was, you felt his lips against your skin, just before his tongue licked a hot stripe across the seam of your pussy. You inhaled sharply and reached for something else to hold onto, otherwise you might rip his hair out.

Your hands found purchase on the adjoining wall and the supporting rail holding all the coats. And a practiced tongue swiped between your folds, carrying wetness to your clit. His face delved in deeper to swirl with his tongue over that bundle of nerves, while two fingers slipped inside your wet heat and into your core.

You shuddered and bucked against him, but Dean held your hip firmly. His body weighed against you, pressing you into the wall to keep you in place. Then his hand and tongue became unrelenting. His fingers stretched you open, exploring your inner walls and finding what made you writhe and choke on your moans.

“Oh my God, Dean…”

He was tempted to smile and tease you some more, but he knew he had to be quick about this; they’d spent a long time in here already.

Still, he was nothing if not thorough.

He sucked and bit down gently on your clit, right before his fingers found and curled into that spongey part deep inside you that damn near made you weep when you came.

And your eyes really did burn as they fluttered closed. Your whole body trembled with the force of your release as you gasped and panted for breath. His name fell from your lips, almost reverently. Soon enough, you were able to wrench your hand from the metal rail to sink back into his hair.

His tongue continued to lap and swipe, more languidly as he felt your tremors subsiding. When he eventually pulled away, he was heaving for breath himself. He barely had a chance to wipe at his mouth and nose before your leg slid forcibly off his shoulder.

He looked up in time to find you sinking down to his level, using his shoulders as leverage. You took his face into your hands and kissed him as thoroughly as he’d worked you over, making you a warm, shaking puddle in his wake. Dean held you to him and kissed you back between panting breaths.

Your hands pressed and made room between you, only to fiddle with his belt and palm at the almost painful hardness of his cock through his pants. He groaned into your mouth.

Fuck it, he thought. He had half a mind to take you right here in the turnout room.

But of course, that was when a knock sounded at the door. It was quiet, but there was no mistaking that warning. Which meant that someone was probably looking for Dean (and was also doing him the solid of tipping him off).

Dean broke from you, and you looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes.

Is that what I think it means?

Yep. Time to go.

With a nod, he helped you up to your feet and found your underwear. You slipped them back on, despite the grimace you made. You were now a bit uncomfortably wet, but you supposed you could deal with that until you got home.

You slipped down your dress and attempted to fix your hair, as well as Dean’s. You bit your lip and tried not to laugh at how you’d wrecked his light brown strands in all directions.

Dean smirked, but he had no time to tease you now either. He held a finger to his lips and closed his eyes for a moment, willing his hard-on to subside. It took him a few moments (deep breaths and unsavory thoughts), but eventually he was able to calm down enough to turn around and crack the door open.

Once he saw that the coast was clear, he slipped out of the closet first. He beckoned you next with his hand. It fell to the small of your back when you stepped out.

He spotted Benny coming out from around the Squad truck. He was wiping grease off his hands, like he’d just been working on the truck. He shot you and Dean a nod.

“Chief’s looking for you,” Benny said.

Dean nodded. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Benny gave him a salute, with deep amusement in his eyes. You blushed and tried not to think about what that look probably meant. You just hoped he hadn’t heard anything.

Dean smiled and walked with you back inside the firehouse. You wished you could just make your escape to your car, but you’d forgotten your purse in the kitchen.

Most of the team seemed to be almost done with lunch. You said hi to Meg again, who gave you a suspicious smile. Your blush started to burn down to your ears.

Gordon was also sitting on the couch. You hadn’t seen him since that somewhat unsavory moment at the Roadhouse, when he’d “shot his shot” with you. He greeted you with an incline of his head.

“Gettin’ the grand tour, huh?” he asked. His smile was pleasant, but there was a gleam of dry knowingin his eyes.

You froze slightly, as your mouth parted and embarrassment threatened to swallow you. You subtly glanced around, trying to see if anyone else was listening, and knowing for that matter.

Dean noticed your discomfort. Again, he rested a hand on the small of your back and shot Gordon a firm look with raised brows. It said, Shut the fuck up, man.

“The Chief’s looking for you,” Gordon said, nodding up at Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean replied flatly.

“Winchester.” A commanding voice carried down the hall.

Your head raised toward it, as did Dean’s. He was more relaxed than you to see the firehouse Chief coming down the hall. You fell into step with Dean as his hand on your back gently urged you forward.

“Chief,” he nodded. He introduced you as his girlfriend, and though you noted the other man’s subtle brow raise, Bobby Singer’s gruff expression lightened (just slightly). He shook your hand, firm and steady. You smiled and greeted him with a respectful nod.

“Hello, sir. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” you said. You almost felt like you were meeting Dean’s father, the way the Chief seized you up a bit.

“Good to meet’cha,” he said. He gestured with a hand over to the now half-devoured cakes in the kitchen. “I was told you brought those in for us.”

Your face briefly ducked with a smile. “Uh, yes. That was me.”

“Well, thank you. I’m sure the whole house appreciates it,” Bobby said, pointedly raising his voice at everyone else in the common room. Meg, Chuck, and others voiced their appreciation and thanks.

“It’s my pleasure,” you said with a short laugh.

Dean smiled as he watched you. But a look from Bobby shifted his attention.

“We need to go over some things,” said the Chief.

“Yes, sir,” Dean said.

Bobby turned back to you. “Thanks for feedin’ the guys.”

“Thank you for letting me visit,” you said. Your sincerity showed in your eyes. “You have a great house here. Otherwise I think I’d still be stuck in that elevator.”

“Thank you, darlin’.” Bobby’s lips lifted in a rare smile. It fell when he glanced over at Dean.

“Meet me in my office.”

“You got it,” Dean replied. He took a moment, however, to touch your arm and press a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll call you tonight.”

That he said lowly in your ear. You bit your lip against a deeper smile, but you nodded, squeezing his hand one more time before you went to get your purse. Dean watched you leave (and he enjoyed the natural sway in your hips, as well as the tousled, slightly frizzy bounce of your hair).

With a long breath, he steeled himself to follow the well-worn path to the Chief’s office.

Bobby was sitting behind his desk, signing some paperwork. Dean’s phone quietly buzzed in his pocket. He discreetly fished it out halfway and found a text from you.

I’ll take care of you when you get off shift, Lieutenant. ❤️‍🔥

Dean smirked, but quickly schooled his expression (and pocketed his phone) when Bobby looked up at him.

“Seems like a nice girl you found there,” Bobby said.

Not that nice, Dean thought salaciously. He looked forward to whatever plans you had for him after his shift tomorrow. He wasn’t the only one with a talented tongue…

“Yeah. You try the cake yet?” Dean asked. He leaned a hand on the spare chair in front of the Chief’s desk. “Orange poppy seed. Who knew, huh?”

“Though next time, when we have a visitor, the tour should refrain from including the turnout room,” Bobby said, his tone both dry and censuring.

Dean’s brows knitted with “confusion.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

Bobby’s frown sharpened. “Do you think I was born yesterday, Dean?”

“Now how could I think that, Chief?” Dean said, deceptively earnest. There was enough gray in the older man’s beard to speak for itself.

Bobby’s face fell into the most long-suffering deadpan.

“Don’t get cute with me, son. I’m not in the mood.”

He’s never in the mood, Dean thought. But his lips twitched with a small grin.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Damn right. And wipe that goddamn smirk off your face! I should write you up for this,” Bobby snapped.

“For what, Chief?”

“You know damn well, for what. You’re just lucky there ain’t no cameras by the turnout room, or I’d be suspendin’ you. Right here and now.”

Bobby peered at Dean closely, but the younger man gave nothing away. Dean now stood with his hands folded behind his back, like the damn professional he should’ve been.

After a moment, the Chief heaved a sigh of ever-mounting exasperation. Like a parent who knew you were guilty, but had no defining evidence.

“This is a firehouse, not the Motel 6,” he barked. “You understand me? You’re my Lieutenant, for God’s sake. You’re supposed to set a fucking example.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now get. For damn sure you’ve got work to do.”

Dean’s face was nothing if not respectful, but Bobby spotted the edge of Dean’s smile when he turned to leave.

This was what Bobby got for going soft on John Winchester’s boy. He shook his head and went back to his mountain of paperwork.

“Idjit,” he muttered, turning the page.

Dean headed back into the common room after he left Bobby’s office. His good mood soured when he saw Gordon pass through the hall. Dean followed him all the way to the locker rooms. He hadn’t shown you this part of the firehouse, only because the guys tended to change clothes right there, instead of heading to the bathroom.

“Hey,” he called out.

Gordon stopped short and looked over his shoulder.

“You got a minute?” Dean asked.

The other man wordlessly agreed, waiting for Dean to catch up with him. They went into the men’s bathroom for privacy. Dean shut the door, then made sure no one else was in the stalls before he met Gordon’s expectant gaze and crossed arms. He was casually leaning against the wall.

Dean’s hands went to his belt.

“We got a problem, Gordon?” he asked.

Gordon’s brows rose. “You got one with me, Lieutenant?”

Dean’s lips thinned. He crossed his arms as well, and met Gordon’s gaze directly.

“Keep making my girlfriend uncomfortable, and we will,” Dean said. His tone was firm in warning.

Gordon took that in with a mild nod and a humorless scoff.

“You know, if anyone but you pulled that shit today, they’d be suspended on the spot,” he pointed out. “But because you’re the Chief’s pseudo-son, you get a pass. And a promotion at that.”

Dean’s frown deepened. He should’ve known it would all come back to that.

Gordon had completed his training and passed his test to be promoted to lieutenant as well, the exact same month as Dean. Gordon was older, with a few more years of experience. But Dean had it on good authority (from Bobby himself), that his own scores had edged out the competition.

“That had nothing to do it,” Dean said.

Gordon shook his head with a rueful smile. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, Winchester.”

Dean sighed in frustration and let his hands fall to his sides.

“Look, if that’s really how you feel, then why not issue a formal complaint with the Chief?”

“And what difference would that make? You’re their boy scout,” Gordon said wryly. “Me? …Maybe I just don’t fit the mold.”

Dean could see that side of it too. Gordon was a damn good firefighter. Dean trusted the man with his life…but there was an edge to him, one that sometimes put people off from getting to know the guy. Dean had known him long enough to see through it, to the good man underneath.

But being a leader was more than just the job. If he’d been in Bobby’s shoes, and it had been down between Gordon and Benny…Dean knew who he would’ve promoted.

“Gordon, you know your worth here. Ain’t nobody thinks you’re not one of our best,” said Dean. “But I am your Lieutenant. If you can’t handle that, then we’ve still got a problem.”

“Look, Dean. I like you. I do,” Gordon said, shrugging his shoulders. “Most days, I do respect you. But you’re also a cocky son of a bitch.”

Gordon then left the bathroom, and left Dean contemplating as a result.

Even after his long 24-hour shift, Dean replayed moment after moment from yesterday. From seeing you, inviting you into his office, reminiscing on memories, both happy and painful to relive, and everything that came afterwards.

He’d had to put his conversation with Gordon aside to focus on the job, but now, what kept coming back to him was seeing you trace the framed picture of his mother. That was one of the few pictures John had been able to save from the fire.

So when Dean left the firehouse in the morning, instead of joining some of the guys for breakfast, he drove over to the 84th Precinct, where his dad was already hard at work at his desk. By the look of his scruffy beard and loosened tie, maybe he hadn’t gone home last night.

Dean knocked on the desk, earning his father’s surprised glance.

“Burning the midnight and the daylight oil I see,” Dean remarked.

John’s mouth tugged at a smile. “Hey, son. To what do I owe the visit?”

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Dean remarked. They used to do dinner at his and Sam’s apartment every couple of weeks, or at least grab a beer at the Roadhouse more often. For the past few months though, John had been even more buried in his work than usual. Dean could guess why.

“Any progress on the case?” he asked.

John huffed. “Which one?”

He gestured at a stack of folders on his desk. All of them signified an ongoing case. But both Winchesters knew what Dean was getting at.

He raised his brows and dipped his chin, trying to catch his father’s gaze. “Dad.”

With a sigh, John looked over at his son fully.

“Nothing I can tell you right now, Dean,” he said. It was a dismissal.

The younger man’s face fell into a frown, his brows knitting together. He dragged a spare rolling chair over and sat, making it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

“So you drop a bomb on me about Mom’s killer, and then it’s radio silence for weeks?” Dean said. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

John finally stopped typing on his computer. His eyes were red-rimmed and tired. Just then, Dean could see the lines of age in his dad’s face more than he had before. It worried him.

“I want to help,” Dean said earnestly.

At that, John firmed up, with a shake of his head.

“This guy’s an arsonist,” Dean tried.

“We’re working with Arson,” John said. “The rest is my jurisdiction, and you’re on a need-to-know basis.”

Dean blew out an aggravated breath and sorted a hand through his hair.

“Dad—”

“Don’t you get it?” John snapped. But when a few heads turned in the office, he forced himself to lower his tone. He met Dean’s eyes. “This man is…well, he ain’t a man, Dean. He’s a monster. I’ve told you enough for you to keep your eyes open, but you’re not stickin’ your nose in this. You understand me?”

Dean’s brows furrowed further, but he finally read the underlying worry in his father’s eyes. Just not for himself.

“For all intents and purposes, Azazel was a mafia leader in the middle of Kansas,” John continued. “He’s got over four decades in the business, and even with Narcotics’ help, finding him and pinning him down’s been a goddamn needle in a haystack, let alone connecting him to these murders. Even with the brand marks on the victims, we don’t even have evidence that someone ain’t just copying his signature, so to speak.”

Dean rested an elbow on the desk and brushed a hand over his mouth as he processed what his father was telling him.

“And those brandings. That’s the only thing tying the victims together?” Dean asked. He watched John closely, how the man’s frown deepened a bit. His eyes never shifted, just met Dean’s head-on.

“We’re still looking into it,” said John.

After a beat, Dean took that with a nod. He was still unsettled, but he got up and clapped his father on the shoulder.

“Call once in a while, huh? Maybe drop in for something to eat,” he said. “My girl’s a good cook.”

John rubbed a hand over his face, but he perked up with a bit of interest.

“Girl? You’re actually seeing someone…in the regular sense?”

Dean rose a brow. “All right, you don’t gotta sound that surprised.”

A smile tugged at John’s lips as he sat back in his office chair.

“Right, right. Cas mentioned something about that,” he said. “…How long you been dating?”

“A couple months now,” Dean said. Honestly, no one was more surprised than him at that fact.

John hesitated, but he nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Good for you, son. Hope I get to meet her soon.”

“You will, if you ever leave this damn desk,” Dean replied, nodding back with a smile. “See ya.”

But his smile dipped as soon as he turned to leave the precinct.

His gut was telling him one thing: his father was still holding something back. Something important.

AN: And there we have it! A little firehouse shenanigans, a bit of Bobby, a fair bit of tension, and a pinch of angst. What did you think?

Next time, we're going to start getting into the meat of the mystery. Along with a bit of drama...

Next Time:

“Dean,” you managed, though your throat became clogged with emotion. Your tears blurred your vision and finally slid down your cheeks.

You tried to push at your seatbelt; it felt like it was cutting your circulation across your chest. But that proved to be a mistake, as the tight fabric just pressed into the bruising you already felt forming against your skin. You couldn’t contain a small whimper.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. His tone was more alert now, changed with the distress he likely heard in your voice.

You took in a shuddering breath as more tears rolled down your face.

“I need help.”

Keep Reading: PART 10

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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#Do Not Disturb #Smoke Eater #Part 9 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #bobby singer #gordon walker #dean winchester AU #john winchester #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

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uzurimisery · 5 months

Text

chapter 2: the players. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

you can't tell me he wouldn't feel so pathetic for wanting you, for needing you. he'd always try and act like he didn't but when he jacked off it was always to thoughts of you.

wc: 6209

warnings: rough sex, male masturbation, hes a perv, not beta read

AO3 version | Series Master

Power and control were paramount to Coriolanus. The feeling of dominance, the ability to command respect, obedience, and even better fear, was a drug to him. It was need that drove him, an insatiable hunger for snow to always land on top.

In his eyes, the world was a game, and he was the key player. Moving and manoeuvring his pieces with calculated actions. The thrill of orchestrating every situation to his benefit pushing him further and further.

That need for control, for dominance, layered over fear and paranoia. He needed to be on top or every carefully crafted interaction he had ever had would be worthless. He’d be worthless. And he was not worthless.

It was so stupid how he lost composure from your naked form. They shaped you like sin, meant for bearing child after child. The swell of your breast suited for a babe attached to it rather than covered in fabrics. He could rut into you like an animal, just like those District filth did, and you could take it. Gnashing teeth, tearing skin, digging into your hips with every thrust. You were so fragile the night of the Gala, so soft, so breakable and by god did he want to break you. Make you pay for this vile feeling he had towards you now.

Maybe he’d even leave you with a child so you’d have a constant reminder of what he could do to you. He needed something to solve the thoughts that have been plaguing him.

For now, he had to keep dealing with this awful lunch with his former classmates and how all they wanted to do was talk about the current ongoing of high society. Idiots. Their conversations rang in his ears like nails on a chalkboard.

“Coriolanus, you never told us how you and the young Miss Gaul came to be together. I could have sworn you told us once that you hated her.”

What he wouldn’t give to take the glass in his hand and break it over Gaius Breen’s thick head. Maybe he’d finally shut up after that with half the glass lodged into his skull and the rest raining down around him. Blood pooling in his eyes as he stammered in confusion.

A shame he couldn’t. Still forced to contend with idiots.

Coriolanus responded with a disarming smile and soft chuckle, voice painting him as love struck. “You’re right Gaius,” he wanted to gag. “I said that once. Y/N and I, as you all know, constantly batted heads. She’s head-strong, never wanting to back down from a challenge. I don’t know when things changed between us, maybe when we were working on the 15th games, all those late nights in the lab.”

He trailed off.

“I started seeing her in a different light with all that forced proximity. Her mind is amazing, as is her wit. Ever since then, I’ve found myself drawn to her in a way I never thought possible.”

Lying was easy for him, but the shocking fact is that the last thing he said was true.

His words silenced the table for a second. The group was accustomed to his disdain of you, always one to be the first to find fault in your person. You were so far from his regular type.

“She’s rather big for you, isn’t she?” Didi Ring pointed out, malice hardly hidden. Clearly still bitter about being rejected by him in the past.

His smile faltered for a second, a flicked of anger flashing in his eyes. Nothing lingering around that anyone would notice.

“She is unlike anyone I’ve ever been with.” Despite his calm tone, his words were edged with venom. “Much appreciated difference to the delicate waifs I’m used to.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, bringing up an unrelated topic to move the conversation along.

Coriolanus relished her discomfort, enjoying the way he made her squirm. The master puppeteer pulling the strings. Each time the group came back around to talking about him, there’d be more questions about you, and he continued to tell the intricate tale of your relationship with him. Each part building you both us as the most in love couple in the Capitol.

Each word tasted like ash on his tongue. The whole luncheon only furthering the turmoil inside him.

He needed to sort his head quickly.

___________

Part of him wondered if what he said could change what the future looked like for the two of you. If he admitted that despite his dislike of your personality, he found the idea of taking you highly appealing. Consuming you, ruining you, making you high on lust. Would you let him? Or would you slap him in the face, scream and kick at him, call him names?

Both options appealed to him. You willingly lowered yourself to be on your knees in front of him, staring doe eyed while he fucked your mouth. But your fighting back excited him more. Pinning you down as you spat at him. A slap to your face when he tired of watching you struggle. To pull your mouth wide and force himself in. Maybe a mix of the two would be the best outcome.

This was clearly not sorting his head out. It was your fault.

The Capitol was unbearably hot today, almost oppressively so, now being three months from when your “relationship” started. He had nearly sweated through his undershirt at the luncheon. He was looking forward to getting into his private lab and getting his mind off everything. To realign with the cruel nature of himself.

As he stepped into the sterile, super cooled environment, the machines whirred, comforting him. It was his sanctuary. A place he controlled.

But you had to be there. Strolling out of your mother’s office in a high neck sleeveless dress that went down to your mid thigh. There were two slits on each side, showing off the expanse of your upper thighs. The cut was below being near any territory that ruined your modesty but was still provocative. When you turned to speak to an assistant, Snow realised the dress was backless as well. Only an intricate chain drew a line down the centre of your back, following your spine, securing the halter neck to the back of the dress. All a challenge to his self control.

He wanted to reach out, grab you by the neck, and press his front into your backside. Feel the warmth of your skin. He wanted to strip away your stature, and better yet, strip your clothes off. But he held himself back, his hands clenched into fists at his side. He still had to pay the part of a gentle lover.

Coriolanus walked up behind you, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished marble. He approached your side, movement purposeful, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Darling,” his hand slipped to the bare skin of your back. “I didn’t know you were going to be in today.” He kissed the top of your head, a display of his ownership of you. Even if you weren’t paper thin like his usual type, you still were small compared to his frame.

“Well, hello there! I was only stopping to drop something off for my mother. Tretonius asked me a question about something.”

“Oh, what about?”

Tretonious began explaining the situation to Coriolanus. Your eyes light up the whole time, animatedly talking through solutions and ideas with the assistant. Your voice was airy and carefree. You even shifted and leaned further into his touch.

Coriolanus, however, was barely listening. Lost in the sensation of your skin under his fingertips. Touching you made his mind go blank. All his plans put on pause and thought of you taking centre stage.

Goosebumps rose where his hand left.

God, you were so different from his usual type. You had sustenance, meat to you. Even strength, as much as a Capitol woman could have. But the draw he felt toward you guided him like the stars did to a lost man. He needed to touch you. To know that he influences you.

He had done leaps of faith for love before and never would he do it again. But he didn’t love you. Love was nothing but a weakness meant for fools. A mistake like that would never be made again.

As he watched you, heart pounding, the dangerous tightrope he was walking kept getting smaller. Teetering on the edge of the precipice, tempted to find salvation for his misdoings between your legs. The balance needed to be found, but god knows if he could do it.

“Thank you for your input, Miss Gaul. I’ll run the simulation with those parameters and inform you of the result.”

Ah yes, work. He was at work.

“Of course. I’m glad I could be of help to you.” You smiled widely, showing your perfect little teeth. Your lips coated in a peachy gloss with some glitter in it. The fluorescent lights of the lab making each particle sparkle.

He should sew your mouth shut and never let another person see your smile. He knew Tretonius was gay and had been married for the past five years, but he didn’t care.

“Walk me out Corio?”

“Of course, darling.”

The walk of you leaving the building was a blur in his mind. You had latched onto his arm as you walked, your chest pushed firmly against it. He didn’t know if it was the heat or your usual habit, but you were clearly braless. He could feel the pebbling of your nipples from the inhospitable environment of the lab. Wondering what they looked like, as he hadn’t seen them before. The sensation of them rubbing against his arm as you walked, sending jolts to his groin. You were intoxicating to him.

He hoped that the feeling would go away and his head would clear once you left the building.

But your presence lingered, a ghost in the laboratory, a reminder of the raw, untamed emotions he had so long suppressed. He couldn’t escape you, your presence would continue to haunt him, even in the privacy of his private lab.

His trousers were tight. You lecherous wench had reduced him to this.

He paced the room, his mind a storm of conflicting desires. One part of him craved the release of physical pleasure, the momentary escape from his emotions. Another part of him resisted, his pride too great to admit just the effect you had on him.

The tension was unbearable, the seam of his trousers rubbing against the head of his penis. The physical ache demanded his attention. With a hiss, he undid the clasp and pulled himself free. He was so hard he felt his head pounding. Even pulling his dick out made him groan.

Debased and depraved, he spat into his hand and tugged himself from base to tip. He thumbed at the slit on the tip, making him even more sensitive. A shudder ran down his spine.

He could picture you barging into his lab, like you had done so many times before, only this time, his cock would be out and on full display. You’d be so shocked, so embarrassed. Stuttering on your apologies and moving to close the door. He’d tell you to wait, he can get himself in order. Looking away while he half-heartedly tucked himself back in, unaware that he was already in front of you, pulling you into the room and locking the door behind you.

You’d get mad at him. Question his intentions. He would back you up against his desk, the ornately carved mahogany stopping just below your ass, forcing you to sit on it. You’d be so worked up, mouth running miles a minute as he grabbed your face and forced you to shut up. He wouldn’t be gentle while kissing you. It was about dominance and control.

One hand would squeeze your neck, cutting off just enough blood flow to make you lightheaded, while the other parted your legs and put his hips between yours, pushing your core against his erection.

You looked so cute when you were mad at him. He wondered how mad at him you’d be when he flipped you onto your back and pinned your hands behind you. Slipping off his belt, he’d secure them, leaving you unable to move. Then he’d flip up your little white dress and strike your ass. You never listened to him, but maybe you would respond to corporal punishment. He’d be hard with each strike, aiming to leave the outline of his hand with each hit.

He’d only stop when your cheeks were cherry red and tears ran down your face. He would be so glad they soundproofed all the private labs as you cried and cried about how mean he was being, how you didn’t understand what was going on. But you’d listen to him, do what he said.

After that, he’d slide your panties down, no doubt covered in sticky, heady wetness. You always struck him as the type to enjoy a heavy hand. He’d slip a finger inside you, testing the waters, before forcing a second one in. Scissoring your pussy, loosening it up for him, he’d tell you just how much he hated that you made him feel this way, pulling out to pinch at your clit. He’d bet the Plinth family fortune you’d squeal, and he’d watch your hole flutter around nothing.

Fuck, he had to know how you tasted.

He’d get down on his knees and push his tongue into you, familiarising himself with your taste, your scent. Then he’d slide down and circle his tongue on your clit. Sucking and pulling on it all while he slipped more fingers into your pussy.

He groaned, feeling himself come close.

He’d make you cum, at least three times analysing the best way to make it happen, before he finally stuffed you with his cock. His male friends had always said they enjoyed when their girls said it hurt, but he didn’t want it to hurt you. He wanted it to feel so good, drive you to the edge of insanity, and ruin you for anyone else. He’d make sure to take you to the edge and over it so many times.

By the time he’d finally cum inside you, you’d be a babbling mess. You’d even thank him for cumming inside you once he told you to. Then he’d pull out, tap his dick on your overly sensitive clit. You’d jump. All your muscles contracting as you tried to catch your breath and steady your mind.

Before anything could leak out of you, he’d take your panties and stuff them in you, making a neat little plug to keep his seed inside you. You’d still be so out of it, you’d moan when he did it too. He’d grab your jaw and spit into your mouth and you would smile while he did it.

His fantasies betrayed what he truly thought about you as he jerked himself off to completion in his lab after just a few minutes of harmlessly touching you. He came hot and heavy on his stomach, glad that at one point he had pulled his shirt up and was holding it by his teeth.

He had a mess to clean up, and this was not helping clear his head.

_________

You and Coriolanus had been asked to figure out a new pod for the upcoming games. Normally the process was a rough one, the two of you always clashing. But since the two of you had spent so much time together in the past six months playing your parts as lovers, and also working, you were more amicable with him.

Sometimes you even sought him out, valuing his mind and approach to design and solving problems. He was good at making the games. You really understood why your mother favoured him as her successor. You would be a great second hand for him one day in the future.

He had even become nicer to you recently. You could laugh and joke around with him if the mood was right. You found genuine camaraderie with him.

The transformation in your dynamic was a welcome change. You both spent so much time together. It was nice to have a solid relationship with him. The lines of where the act started and you began to feel harder to define. Perhaps the act just laid the foundation for a genuine friendship with him.

It was also complicated.

Coriolanus has always been attractive to you. His high cheekbones, pretty blue eyes, and soft blonde hair. He had only gotten more attractive as you both aged. Now at 26 he had filled out, some of his sharp-angles becoming defined muscle. He was tall too, with long slender legs. He was undeniably appealing.

The physical attraction, coupled with the new emotional bond, made a sticky mess of your feelings. It didn’t help that nearly everyday he would kiss and dote on you. The parts of yourself you never liked to admit relished the feeling of his hands on you, the brush of his lips against your own.

On the one hand, something real with him wouldn’t be the worst thing. You had similar views and came from similar backgrounds. HIs intelligence would keep you from ever getting bored in your relationship. It was clear that over time he’d even grown to value and respect your insight, as you did his.

On the other hand, the bubbling attraction you felt towards him complicated everything. You couldn’t help but fantasise about him in your private moments. You had caught him shirtless one day, trousers hung loose and unbuttoned as he got dressed. It was that day you had learned under his button ups and blazers his frame was well built. And that he had a very sizable member. Not super surprising since he was 6’4”.

Sometimes you caught him staring at you, eyes trailing up and down your form. He always thought he was so sly with it. Likely, the surrounding people didn’t notice, but you always did.

The initial stares were subtle, quick flicks to your chest and ass. Always when you wore anything form fitting or that showed more skin. You expected it to be honest. Men always are looking at your assets rather than your person. But things changed.

Now you could catch him staring at you from across the room, be it public or private. His eyes were always tracing the contours of your face, watching your every expression. You first had caught it at an event where someone told you a joke that made you throw your head back in laughter. It was like he was trying to memorise every detail or you and what each emotion looked like.

His body language also changed. It was more intimate. The distance between you is closer when you speak. His shoulders relaxed. He’d brush his fingers against you when motioning to things, not afraid to touch you anymore, even casually.

His smile, usually plastered on like a mask, became genuine when you were alone, laughter more frequent and uncontrolled when together. His voice would drop, raspy and slow, that went straight to your core when he spoke into your ear.

You couldn’t tell if it was part of the act or things had changed within him. He didn’t hate you now; you knew that much.

“What do you think about making a hallucinogenic that coats the Rovers’ teeth?” He tapped a pencil against his notebook. “If we got specific, we could make them picture their loved ones when they saw other tributes.”

An interesting idea, but synthesising something so specific would be impossible to happen before the next games. “It’s a good idea, but I think we need to be more general with it.”

“So just make them hallucinate?”

“Yeah.”

He made the face he made when he was creating different outcomes in his head. Eyes scanning the room as if there was a display in front of him. He could always create a list of variables that could come up.

Humming, he spoke. “I like it.” and then he went back to writing.

His hands were delicate. Long and slender fingers. You wondered if he played the piano. Surely he did. It was refined and gentlemanly, just like he likes to project. Though as more time led you to better understand him, he very much wasn’t. He watched you with hunger anytime you were out.

You often caught yourself questioning if that hunger was real. It certainly looked real. It felt real.

There was a time when one of your heels had broken during a night out and he had carried you from place to place until it was time to leave. During that night, his hands suspiciously were always on your ass. Once you even felt him squeeze the meat, saying that he was “adjusting his grip.”

He felt like fire. You knew the danger of playing with it, but you didn’t fear getting burned. So you kept him at an arm’s length. Always wondering if there was something more or if he had just fully committed to his role. Perhaps you’d never know.

But in the night, when you lay in bed, whispering your secrets to the stars, they’d be ones of him. How you wanted him, or at least to try him. To know him truly. And when you lay there desperate and needy, it was him you thought of between your legs.

“Coriolanus?” there was a question you had to ask him now. “Are we friends?”

It hung in the air. You felt like it was a mistake now to ask him that. He paused his writing, eyes locking with yours. They raged like a tempest, an unreadable depth you were afraid to swim in.

“Friends?” The word tasted strange on his lips.

He had only ever had one friend, Sejanus. If they were really friends was something he didn’t know. He had simply not belittled Sejanus growing up and then, by the time they were mentoring for the 10th games, continued contact would imply that they were close friends. That’s why Dr. Gaul had made him go into the arena after him.

But he had killed Sejanus. It didn’t make him sad either. His “grief” was about being caught, that ‘d be the next to die. But since the guns were gone and everyone else involved was dead, he truly didn’t care about what had happened to Sejanus.

“Yeah friends. I think it’d be nice if we were friends. All things considered.”

You watched the surprise wash across his features briefly. He seemed caught off guard by your question. Like he had never considered the idea.

Coriolanus Snow did not have friends, only enemies.

“I think so too.”

In that moment, a fragile connection became more solid, better defined the boundaries of your actions. It was uncharted territory. A venture into the unknown with a man who you hated months prior.

___________

A week had passed since you had last seen Coriolanus and somehow in that time he had gotten sour with you. Scowling at you the moment you were in private. You had no idea what caused the change. The two of you had officially been friends for four months now.

And despite his glaring, here you both were at some random high society member’s house for a “private dinner” of 80 people, and Coriolanus’ hand had not stopped rubbing up and down your thigh since you sat down to eat. He got dangerously close to your core, fingers brushing the crease of your thigh. You could almost think it was his own desire and not for show. And of course your dress just had to have a slit up to your hip on that side too, giving him plenty of access to your bare skin.

Despite the odd behaviour from him, you remained outwardly composed and playing your part. The dinner was in full swing; the drinks flowing. Both of you had had your share of them too, perhaps Coriolanus had too much.

By now, everyone around you was too intoxicated to notice if you told him off.

“Coriolanus Snow, remove your hand this instant.”

He paused, hand settling on the apex of your thigh. Then with a smirk he brought his mouth near your ear, he breathed on your neck making you shiver. “Or what?” His voice was laced with mockery.

“I will make a scene,” you hissed, eyes narrowed. “And I will tell everyone here how their golden boy can’t get it up.”

He laughed loudly, drawing a few eyes towards you both.

“Thinking about something you shouldn’t be? You know you wouldn’t have to worry about that.” he rose from his seat kissing you roughly as he left. He had drank too much, and felt too loose.

Sobriety was his norm. He hated the sensation of being intoxicated. But this was an event he had to drink at. That made it even harder to keep his thoughts straight around you. Every drink was so bitter and burned the back of his throat. Somehow, he wandered out to a balcony and found company in some semi-notable members of society. The cool night air helped him sober up some.

The entire purpose of him being here was to maintain the illusion of normalcy. For you both to blend in with the polished appearances and mannerisms of the crowd. To push the narrative that the Plinth and the Gaul families supported him wholly. He kept the idle conversation he had made with the group outside until they scampered inside, cold from the chill of the night..

Staring out over the city that one day he would rule, he felt only partially satisfied. Like accomplishing what he has sought to do since he was a child was lacking. Having the country would fulfil one of his goals, but he had more than he wanted. He was so close to that goal too. But even with the thrill of knowing it would all soon be his, a gnawing emptiness chewed through his stomach. The twinkling lights below are no longer enough.

He thought of you. Not even in a debauched way this time. He thought about your laugh, how you snorted when something amused you slightly. You always just wormed your way into his every waking moment. It had been nearly six months since you had started pretending to be lovers.

At first, he hated you. He thought you arrogant and entitled. Then he desired you. Your body is constantly dancing on the edges of his mind. Now he likes you, or thinks he does. You don’t annoy him anymore and you were even friends. He even sought out your company while in the labs. Or the idea of you he liked. Your rough edges cutting against him, making him bleed, but he’d bandage himself and touch you again.

This was the fine line drawn finally so blurred. Smudged beyond belief. The intangible made tangible. Ambition and desire. Power and control.

“You alright? You’ve been out here for nearly an hour.” There you were. Always so devoted to your role, to him. You’d come out here during the winter in your thin dress to find him.

God, that dress.

Red silk fabric draped and pooling around your body. The slit on your thigh and the deep plunge down to just above your navel. It was so unfair to him. How could he not want you when you looked so delectable?

He had had too much to drink. His ribs hurt from how hard his heart was drumming in his chest. Anguish stirred within him, regret and despair burning him.

He wanted to scream and cry. Throw his pocket watch off the edge of the building, shatter the illusion of his life. It was so unfair. He tried so hard, did so much. Then you just had to ruin it all. He had given up these feelings, the craving for intimacy. Lucy Gray had killed that part of him. Torn his heart out and showed him how weak he really was, and now it was happening again. Convinced him that he was immune to love’s allure, no longer beholden to such a useless emotion.

Your presence had infiltrated his every waking moment. He breathed and thought of you. The thoughts only stopped when he slept. Your effortless charm, captivating looks, it was just so unfair.

Was it love that he felt for you or just an overinflation of his own desires, an idealised version of you or the flawed person in front of him?

But you just had to be you.

“Corio, are you okay? What’s wrong?” your hand cradled his cheek as you leaned over, scanning his face, trying to figure out what was wrong. Your touch was so gentle to such a broken man, sending jolts of electricity across his skin.

How could he tell you that there was something so irreparably broken within him? Something that wanted to lock you away and keep you just for himself. To study you and break you down. To wake up next to you in the morning. To know your darkest secrets. To consume your very person. He went from hating you to needing you in his life so desperately.

That he needed you carnally. He could never become the president, but die happy if he had the chance to lie with you.

Your words hung in the air, an invitation to open up and let him in. But he was so lost. He couldn’t tell up from down or left from right. And he was so, so scared. Scared of his feelings, scared of being honest, scared of losing control. But most of all, scared you’d run just like she had.

But he knew no matter how dark his thoughts were, no matter how strong the desire to break you became, he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, barely audible with the wind blowing, but you heard him.

Your eyebrows drew tight in concern. God, you cared for him. Or was it an act? You were so good at playing your part. He just wanted to know if you were honest with him or not. If you could just break his spirit again, he could go back to normal, get over this hump.

“You’re going to freeze out here. We should go inside.”

“I don’t want to.” His throat bobbed. “I just…” finding the right words to say was so hard when the curtain fell and the actor became just a man again.

You sat down next to him, wrapping your shawl around the both of you. “You just what?” you spoke your tone so soft and intimate it made his head spin. “Talk to me. We’re supposed to be a team.”

“I just…” fuck, why can’t he just be honest with himself for once? Stupid Coriolanus, weak and incompetent.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “It’s okay if you don’t know how to say it.” tender comfort spoken like a true lover. “Sometimes it’s enough to just be here together.”

He tilted his head back, tears threatening to spill. He shut them, letting out a sigh. He has never been a coward before. He had always been a man of plan and action. He didn’t have a plan now, but he could take action.

He turned, facing you, taking all of you in. The wind blew through loose hairs, making them flutter around your face. One got caught in your lipstick, the semi glossy sheen trapping it. He pulled it free, making sure not to mess up the colour, and tucked it behind your ear. He couldn’t take his hand away from the side of your face.

“Your hands are freezing.” You giggled as if he had told you a stupid joke that made him laugh in response.

“I think I’ve gone insane,” he confessed, more to himself than you. “I can’t play this part anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

You interrupted him, protesting against whatever he was going to say. “Corio, we have to-” but he cut you off.

“I can’t,” his voice broke with desperation. “I can’t keep pretending that I love you and that when we’re alone, the lines are so blurred it’s not even a line anymore.”

Unspoken emotions hung in the air. He searched your eyes, searching for anything that might give away what you were feeling, but just like usual, he couldn’t read you. He only saw himself desperate and bewitched by you.

The weight of what could come next pressed down on him, tightening his chest. He couldn’t bear the act anymore. The constant struggle to only want you in show. But there was something on the undercurrent with you. Maybe he was projecting his own feelings on you, but he was so certain of it he could almost taste it. It was a risk, a jump into the unknown. He was asking for rejection. For humiliation, just like he had faced before.

Fuck it. Fuck it all.

He leaned in, breath mixing with yours, and kissed you. He actually kissed you. Softly and gently, like the whisper of change. He was ready to pull away, for you to tell him there wasn’t a crowd and you didn’t need to act, to say you were friends and nothing more. But as he was pulling away, your hands wrapped themselves into his hair pulling him back in.

It was an invitation, an answer, a reciprocation. A surrender to the moment, a mutual yearning.

He kissed you like he was starving and you were the last meal he would ever have. He kissed you like you were the cure for everything wrong with him. He kissed you like if he stopped, the world itself would never turn again, the sun would never rise, the tides would never change, that life itself would end. He would cut out his heart if you asked him to. He’d find a way to stay alive and watch you consume it.

His hands were groping at your side, kneading the skin. He was so gentle, so different from how he normally treated you. If he died tonight, pushed off the building by you, he would smile as he fell. Everything he felt, he always felt it so intensely and you burned through him like a wildfire.

There was so much passion. It buzzed in the air, drowning out the sounds of the dinner party. He would give you anything, done anything, to stay like this with you. But it wouldn’t last forever. So he kissed you with all care and longing he had in his heart, pouring his honest truth into it. He wanted to imprint himself on you, leave a mark that would never fade. He would stain you in his colours that would never fade.

In this moment, there was no pretence, no act, no script. It was just him and you.

He had crossed the line, finally shattering the illusion that you had both worked so hard to maintain and craft. He was terrified of the consequences, that if at the end of this you too would run from him. Scared of what he really was.

But he would never be the same. This had changed him forever. The never ending itch was scratched, but he needed more. His hunger for you only increased.

As Coriolanus pulled away, his eyes met yours. The guard you had was down and he could read something in them. Confusion clear, but the undercurrent of hope shining through. Your lips swollen and breaths quick gasps.

You were so painfully beautiful.

You wanted the same thing as him, for the act to be over. The taste of something real changing you both. There was so much that needed to be said, but neither of you moved to.

Instead, you kissed again, and again, and again, each more passionate than the last. Your tongue was soft and wet against his. The chilly night air forgotten as you crawled into his lap. Coriolanus couldn’t stop his hands from running over every bit of you he could reach. When one reached your ass and he squeezed, you moaned into his mouth.

He had thought long and hard about what your moans would sound like, but the reality was so much better than he could ever imagine.

His kisses trailed down your neck, making you gasp and shiver. God, he loved your reactions. You brought out his basest animal instinct. He bit and sucked at your neck, leaving a hickey at the junction before going back to your lips.

You pressed your chest tight against his, hips grinding down against his own. He wanted to leave this party now, to take you by the arm and bring you back to his penthouse. There was no coming back from this, not stopping it. He couldn’t pretend anymore.

The death of an actor.

#uzuri writes #hunger games imagine #hunger games smut #tbosas #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #the death of an actor #coriolanus snow x reader #tdoaa

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slafkovskys · 4 months

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COCKWARMING LUKE!!!! SIZE KINK WITH LUKE!!! literally just youngest child syndrome because he might feel left out or that he’s too different from his brothers because he thinks he’s lacking his rookie year and all angel does is let him rant and then he shows her who the best hughes brother is! :))))

“what if i don’t live up to their expectations?” he questions, closing his eyes as she wraps her hand around his length. his hand tightens on her hip, in the satin fabric of the thin nightgowns jack had started buying for her that they were all very appreciative of, as she notches his tip against her wet entrance. he can tell someone, probably quinn, had heard earlier just based on how easily he slides in.

“whose expectations, baby?” she wonders out loud. she gasps slightly as her hips meet his own, her clit rubbing against his skin when she leans forward, “theirs or yours?”

he can’t focus on anything but her at that point. the way the lace was scratching the top of his thighs, the way her pierced nipples were poking through the cups of her nightgown, that stupid music from the video game he had paused when she stumbled into the livingroom moments before, “i-”

“c’mon, lukey.”

“both?” he wants to touch, wants to feel his cock pushing it’s way through a path one of his brothers has already treaded, wants to hear her little whines and pleas as he does it, “jack and quinn were better than me both their rookie years. i had a shit start, last season, what if this one’s the same?”

“you barely played any games,” she says, “you haven’t even gotten to have a rookie year yet, so don’t compare yourselves to them.”

“angel,” he warns when she shifts.

“can i tell you a secret, lukey?” she whispers like it wasn’t just the two of them. it was late and quinn’s room was just down the hall, but he was notoriously a heavy sleeper. her lips graze over his ear and she grins, “you’re bigger than the both of them. they could never fuck me like you do.”

and that was all she wrote.

#hughes bros x angel #luke hughes

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kaiijo · 2 years

Text

love triangles in twisted wonderland (ii)

characters: ruggie, kalim, cater, malleus, sebek, jack notes: gn! reader, mix of jpn and eng translations

ruggie bucchi vs kalim al-asim

Ruggie didn’t know how he felt about Kalim. On one hand, he represented everything Ruggie really despised — spoiled, oblivious, lazy upper-crust people who wouldn’t know a struggle if it hit them in the face. On the other hand, Kalim never gave him a real reason to dislike him beyond his socioeconomic standing.

That is, until now.

You and Kalim, much to Ruggie’s dismay, had been paired up for some Astrology project. You two had been friendly before but now, you were attached at the hip. Or, more accurately, Kalim followed you around like a lost pup, which made Ruggie roll his eyes every time he saw it. You didn’t seem to mind though…

It was a rare moment nowadays to have you to himself, so Ruggie capitalized on the fact that you were alone at a cafeteria table and that Leona had been sound asleep in the gardens at that moment. Skipping the line and ignoring disgruntled cries, Ruggie got a hamburger and joined you at your table.

You perked up when you saw him, offering him a smile that made his stomach flip-flop. “Hey!”

“You mind if I sit here?”

“You know that I don’t. I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you!”

“Yeah.” Ruggie resisted the urge to point out that Kalim was the reason for it, instead opting to say, “I’ve been studying my ass off for Vargas’s exam.”

“Me too,” you sighed, resting your cheek on your palm. “Who would’ve thought the Headmage would make him do a written exam?”

Ruggie replied, “I heard something different — that Professor Trein basically said Vargas wouldn’t be able to pull together one since he’s got muscles for brains, or something like that.”

You snorted out a laugh, “Even if that isn’t true, it is in my head.”

Ruggie bit down on his lip to keep from grinning too widely. Your conversation carried on, blissfully uninterrupted, for approximately seven more minutes (not that Ruggie was counting or anything) until the exact person Ruggie didn’t want to say bounded over in his endless sunshine.

“Ooh! Is that the blush sauce pasta?” Kalim asked you, leaning over your shoulder. Ruggie huffed when your attention was pulled from him. “Do you think I’ll like it? Can I have a bite?”

Ruggie glared at Kalim as you twirled up a bunch of pasta, holding it out on your fork for Kalim to try. He wondered if Kalim was purposefully a messy eater or if that was just him, but some sauce splattered on his cheek. “Whoops,” Kalim said and you just shook your head fondly, wiping some off with a napkin.

Deliberate or not, Ruggie had one thought cross his mind: Two can play that game. With that, he braced himself and drove his knee upwards into the table. He let out a yelp of pain and your attention was immediately diverted. “Are you okay, Ruggie?” You shot up from your seat and came over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Roll up your pant leg — is it bruising?”

As you started pulling the fabric up, Ruggie shot a sidelong glance at Kalim, who was watching intently with a pout, and his mouth pulled into a smug smirk.

Ruggie: 1, Kalim: 0.

cater diamond vs. malleus draconia

Since Riddle and the rest of the housewardens were away on some bonding retreat organized by Kalim, Cater decided to throw a party. Half of it was to be able to have fun without Riddle getting on to him about the rules, and the other half was because he wanted an excuse to spend time with you outside of class. You had been pretty busy recently so he was really looking forward to chilling with you.

Imagine his shock when he saw you walk into the dorm with Malleus Draconia at your side. Tall, dark, and regal, Malleus cut an intimidating figure as followed you across the room, headed for Cater. “Hey!” you chirped, grinning brightly. “Thanks for inviting us.” Cater’s heart skipped a beat as he soaked in the sight of your smile.

Malleus nodded along and said, “It was very generous of you.”

Part of Cater wanted to say that he invited you, not Malleus, but he definitely wasn’t going to say that. Plus, maybe he could get a Magicam pic with him at this party? “Of course!” Cater replied, “I’m super excited to have you here!” He turned to Malleus and said, “Not often that I see you out and about!”

You looped you arm through Malleus, something both he and Cater took note of, and said, “This is Malleus’s first big party so I was thinking you could show him around and introduce him with me?”

“I’d be surprised if people didn’t know him,” Cater said. “But I’ll definitely help.”

“Ah,” Malleus spoke up. “We wouldn’t want to impose on Cater. I would be okay if you just showed me around, Y/n.”

Cater’s smile faltered but he recovered, shaking his head. What was that about? “It’s no trouble at all, really.”

“It’s uncourteous of a host to leave his guests unattended and to curry favor on one,” Malleus pressed and Cater’s eyes narrowed. What was Malleus playing at?

It didn’t take long for Cater to put two and two together. The way Malleus didn’t reject your touch, the way he arrived with you, the way he insisted that only you showed him around, the tenderness with which he looked at you — Malleus liked you. Panic bubbled up in him. If that was the case, and you brought him with you to Cater’s party, did that mean you liked Malleus romantically?

At that exact moment, another thought dawned on Cater. “Shouldn’t you be at the housewarden retreat?” He nearly jumped when the aura around Malleus became a mix of gloom and irritation.

You definitely felt the shift too as you asked, “Cater, can I talk to you alone for a sec?” You grabbed his arm and hauled him off somewhere, calling sweetly over your shoulder to Malleus, “We won’t be gone long!”

You led Cater to an empty hallway and said, “Malleus wasn’t invited, so I decided to bring him here to, you know, cheer him up!”

Ah, now that made sense. His body relaxed a little. So this wasn’t a date. You just felt bad that Malleus wasn’t invited.

You continued, “I know you’re hosting and it’s a lot to ask, but could you help me just make sure he has a good time? Or at least isn’t sulking alone in the corner?”

Cater considered this for a second. He wasn’t too keen on babysitting Malleus for the night but if it meant spending time with you… “Sure, no problem!” When your face broke into a relieved smile, Cater knew that, somehow, this would be worth it.

sebek zigvolt vs. jack howl

“Master Lilia!” Sebek shouted, rushing into the Diasomnia dorm. Looking up from a game of chess with Silver, who had fallen asleep across from him, Lilia asked, “What can I do for you, Sebek?”

“I seek counsel!”

“Oh? On what matter?”

Sebek huffed, “I am trying to find a way to spend more time with Y/n but I am at a loss for how to do so. Every time I approach them, they are with someone and even when they are not, people pop up everywhere.”

Lilia nodded carefully. “I see.” Lilia thought for a moment before saying, “You have a test in Defense Magic coming up, no?”

“Master Lilia, with all due respect, this is not the time to—”

Lilia held up a hand. “Let me finish, Sebek. You share that class with Y/n, if I recall correctly. So why don’t you invite them to study with you? Just the two of you, no one else.”

Sebek’s face brightened. “Master, you prove yourself once again to be a brilliant strategist! I am indebted to you!”

With a bow, Sebek ran off again, finding you in the Mirror Chamber, leaving your dorm portal. “Human!”

“Oh, hey, Sebek!”

“I am requesting that we study together for the Defense Magic test!”

“Oh!” You nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that would be great actually! It’s kind of one of my worst subjects, so it would be a lot of help to study with someone else.”

“And, of course, I know what I’m doing, so you’re in good hands.”

“Alright, do you want to go to the library now?”

“Ah,” Sebek said, “I… got banned for the day for my volume in the library.” He couldn’t tell if his face was warming from the admission or from your amused stare.

You chuckled and said, “What about the courtyard then? We need to actually do spells anyways, so that’s a better option.”

Sebek nodded and you two walked to the courtyard. As you two started studying and practicing together, Sebek learned two things: one, you weren’t lying when you said Defense Magic wasn’t your strong suit. You managed to put a shield around a bench instead of yourself. The second thing was that, while he was okay at the subject, he was nowhere near good enough to really effectively help you study. And if that was the case, how could he help and defend the Young Master if he couldn’t help you, the person he liked, with such a simple thing as Defense Magic? And if he failed the Young Master—

“Jack!” The call of the name snapped Sebek from his downward spiral, and he followed your gaze to Jack, who was jogging across the courtyard. Sebek couldn’t help but grimace when the other boy made his way towards the two of you.

“Hey.”

You asked him, “Your best class is Defense Magic, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you have time to help me and Sebek with the shielding spell that’s on the upcoming exam?”

Sebek’s eyes narrowed as he watched Jack’s tail start to wag. Before he could answer you, Sebek interjected, “I’m sure we don’t want to bother Jack on his run.”

“I’m, uh, actually just finishing,” Jack said. “It’s okay, I can help.”

Without warning, you wrapped Jack in a hug, ignoring the sweat clinging to him. “Thank you so much, you’re the best!”

Sebek could only glower at your embrace and at the way Jack’s tail seemed to be rapidly picking up speed by the second. It seemed like he would have to take the loss, retreat for the day, and regroup with Master Lilia to craft a different plan.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al-asim x reader #cater diamond x reader #malleus draconia x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #jack howl x reader #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes

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axelsagewrites · 7 months

Text

Jamie Tartt*Phone Call

Pairing: jamie x f!reader

Day three: phone sex with Jamie Tartt – even though he loved to play the long nights away from you were almost impossible to bare so he often found himself hitting call at late hours of the night

Word count: 1226

Warnings: phone sex, teasing, nude pics/sexting, dom/sub vibes, sex toys, vibrator, nipple play, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

Jamie didn’t know how to handle this. You’d been sending him pictures all weekend. It was the first time you’d not been able to make an away game and Jamie didn’t know what was worse; not being able to touch you or the fact he knew with each snapchat notification you’d sent another, but he couldn’t check. Not yet at least however the moment the match was done, won by Jamies frustration and libido, he soon rushed to his hotel room.

“Whatca think you’re playing at luv?” he said as soon as you picked up on the second ring.

You giggled from the other end of the phone from where you sat in your shared bed which felt empty without him, “Whatever do you mean sweetheart?”

“Think being a tease is so funny huh?” he asked, his voice lower than usual as he collapsed into a chair and began going through the snaps, you’d sent him. Jamie groaned when he saw a pic of you in his jersey from behind, back arched, and ass proudly on display. It wasn’t long till his hand slipped beneath his shorts. “Not gonna be laughing when I get home are you,” he said, palming his boner through his boxers.

“Oh yeah?” you smirked, your bratiness evident even through the phone, “How not?”

“Not gonna be able to laugh when I’m fucking that pretty lil mouth of yours,” Jamie said, slowly jacking off through the boxers, “That’ll wipe the smirk off those pretty lips,” he said, his voice darkening as he slipped his hands under the final layer of fabric.

“Maybe I’d like that,” you teased, your hand slipping under the sheets unbeknownst to a very wound-up Jamie. Your fingers trailing up your wet slit before finding your clit, biting your lip lightly as you rubbed slow circles.

Jamie groaned, his head falling back as he desperately tried to keep his grip on the phone, “Bet you would as well. Shame you’re only all talk on the phone,” he said, and you knew it was true no matter how much you would deny it, “Don’t get all shy now princess,” Jamie said, slowing his speed so he didn’t blow already like a teenage boy. “You touching yourself?” he asked and imagining the way you’d be blushing right now.

“Maybe,” you stuttered out, your hand pausing as Jamies chuckled.

“Good girl,” Jamie said, his voice deep as he sped up his pace yet again, “Wish it was me touching you though. Why don’t you use that little present I got you last week?”

Even without him here you could feel your skin heat up. You quickly found the sleek pink vibe Jamie had got you as a going away present. For a moment your mind wandered, remembering how he had tested it out on you that night, “You still there love?” his voice snapped you from your thoughts.

“Um yeah was just looking. Found it,” you said as you started to turn it on.

“Uhuh,” Jamie chuckled, imagining how you looked right now and grinning when he heard it buzzing, “Now be a good girl and let me hear what it can do,” he said.

You shivered at his words but did as you were told. You whined when you trailed it up your pussy, almost whimpering when it grazed over your clit, “Fuck you sound so good,” Jamie said, his own hand speeding up, “Bet you look even fucking better,”

“Not as good as you,” you said, trying to sound seductive but the whimper only made Jamie laugh.

“Doubt that love,” he said thinking back to all the cute little outfits you had sent him, “Whatcha wearing?” he asked.

You glanced down at your choice of clothing and smiled lightly, “One of your jerseys,” you said, and you could hear him suck in his breath over the phone, “and nothing else,” you added, smirking slightly at the way he groaned.

“Fuck baby you’re killing me here,” Jamie moaned, feeling his cock get even harder if that was at all possible at this point, “Why don’t you turn that thing up yeah? You’re too quiet baby,” he said, his voice low. Without questioning you’d press the button, and a quiet moan left your lips, “Cmon baby,” he said, smirk evident through the phone, “don’t be shy baby, let me hear you,”

His words send shivers up your spin as your legs tightened around the vibe, holding it in place with your thighs so your hand could sneak up your shirt, “Fuck Jamie, I miss you,” you whined, rubbing your hardened nipples and wishing it was his hands instead.

“Miss you too baby,” Jamie said, feeling his orgasm building up after too many pent-up nights, “Miss your fucking body. Those perfect tits of yours. can’t wait to get back to you. can’t wait to fuck you. fuck I’m not even gonna be able to make it to the bedroom,”

“Yeah?” you asked, closing your eyes to imagine everything he was saying.

“Yeah,” he said, doing the same, “Never know might just fuck you right there on the couch,”

“Then what?” you asked.

Jamie groaned, head rolling back as he tried not to finish as he spoke, but little did, he know your own orgasm was soon building as you began to squeeze your nipples, rolling them between your fingers like Jamie liked to do, “Then I’m gonna take you to the bedroom. Tear off whatever skimpy little thing you’re wearing baby. Then fuck you till the sun comes up. You still touching yourself?” Jamie asked, snapping you from your daydream.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice coming out more like a moan as small moans kept escaping your lips, “Think I’m gonna- “you started to say before you were cut off by your own moans.

“Turn it up,” Jamies voice was husk and commanding and when you tried to say you couldn’t he almost snapped, “Do it,” he commanded, “Cmon you’ve been so good for me so far. I know you can do it baby,”

You whimpered, your hand slipping down to press it one last time. “Fuck,” you whined loudly, the vibrations sent shocks down your spine, your body twitching as your orgasm quickly approached.

“That’s it baby,” Jamie coached, his own hand speeding up as he chased his own release. “Fuck you sound so fucking good right now,” he groaned.

“I can’t wait any longer,” you whined, your eyes clenched tightly shut as you felt ready to explode.

“Then don’t,” Jamie husked, his hips bucking up into his own hand, “Let go baby,” he said, and his words toppled you over the edge. You didn’t try hold back the filthy moans leaving your lips as you came from just your boyfriends voice but as you were coming down from your high you heard Jamie reach his, muttering curses over and over until you assumed he was done.

Jamie looked down at the mess he had made, making a mental note to add it to your punishment list for when he got back, “You okay babe?” you asked, slightly panting as you caught your breath.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Jamie said, making you laugh as you pulled the covers around yourself.

“I love you too baby,” you giggled and for a moment missing him became slightly easier.

A/N: had to repost this since it never uploaded for some reason yesterday so sorry for the wait for anyone following my kinktober

Tags: @angelbarnes-rogers

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt smut #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso smut #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt fanfic #kinktober

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parvuls · 1 year

Text

The bruise on Jack's jaw looks worse now, in the wan light of Bitty's bedside lamp. Bitty's gaze catches on it while Jack slides off the side of the bed and rubs a hand over it, rasping on fresh stubble.

"Are you sure you don't need anything? Some painkillers? I might even have scar cream for that lyin' around, if you want."

Jack's mouth twitches, but he shakes his head. "It's fine, Bittle. It doesn't hurt that bad."

"If you say so…" Bitty sits up when Jack steps into his underwear and drags them up his thick thighs. He's got some red marks around his hips, but they're faint enough that they should fade before attracting anyone's notice. "That hit was still nasty, Jack. Martin better pay for it next time you've got a game against the Isles."

"Ha. I'm sure Tater's already got it covered." Jack crouches to collect his discarded clothes from all over the floor. He's facing away from Bitty when he says: "Though we’re not playing them again until the middle of March."

"...Oh."

They aren't playing the Rangers or the Devils until March, either; Bitty knows because he checked. That's two months without Jack coming up to New York. Without an excuse to see him.

Bitty tries to rein in his disappointment, and horribly fails.

It's quiet while Jack gets dressed. Bitty watches him from the bed, sheets pooled in his lap, hands fisted in the sheets. Jack pulls on his dress shirt and leaves it hanging open from his shoulders as he slips into his pants, pulls on his socks. His abs flex when he bends down to lace up his shoes.

"We're playing the Flyers in two weeks," he says apropos of nothing while he’s buttoning up his shirt. Bitty stares at the dark strip of hair on Jack’s broad chest, slowly disappearing under the fabric, then determinedly averts his eyes.

"Uh… Okay?"

Jack's face is downturned, shadowed in the dim room, eyes on his hands wrapping his blue tie around his neck and adjusting it under the collar. "Philly’s two hours away. Probably less, that late at night."

Bitty's heart starts beating faster, but he valiantly keeps his expression neutral. "Probably."

"If you want…" Jack’s tone is unreadable. He tugs on the knot of his tie; Bitty itches to get up and bat his hands away, straighten the tie into place himself, but doesn’t dare move.

"Oh, I – if you’re sure!" Bitty bites his lip so hard it hurts. "That’s a heck of a drive after playing a game, though."

Jack puts his jacket on and finally looks up. He looks so sharp in the low light, so elegantly put-together in the tailored lines of his game day suit. It almost hurts to look at him. Only his mussed hair and flushed cheeks hint that he was naked and coming undone in Bitty’s bed only half an hour ago.

"It’s fine. I’ve got this BBC podcast I’ve been meaning to get to anyway." Jack swipes his keys and his wallet from Bitty’s dresser, then takes the step back towards the bed. "Or maybe I could listen to that playlist you made back in college. For before games. If those basses won’t keep me awake nothing will, eh?"

Bitty almost can’t believe Jack remembers that – although, it shouldn’t surprise him that Jack still remembers all of his past teammates’ pre-game rituals. "You, listening to Beyoncé and Sia for two hours? I don’t know, Jack. All that culture shock while drivin’ sounds pretty dangerous."

"Well, I do live for danger," Jack deadpans, and leans down to kiss the startled laugh off Bitty’s lips. Then he pats his pockets one last time, bids Bitty goodbye, and leaves.

Bitty lies down on his bed, still warm with their shared body heat, and tries to convince himself it doesn't mean anything when a boy is willing to drive two hours just for a booty call.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #zimbits #brought to you courtesy of the doc called 'casual screwing'#that currently only contains scenes that are not actually screwing and are CERTAINLY not casual #on a scale of one to you'll drive from philly to ny for a hookup: how obliviously in love are you #pavfics

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the-sun-and-the-sky · 1 year

Text

“Kiss me” “What-”

Summary: What feelings surface when you get jealous?

Pairing: Phoenix x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Jealousy, suggestive comments/thoughts, minor physical descriptions, no use of y/n, military inaccuracies, and zero, absolutely zero, beta reading

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a hot day. Much hotter than it had been in anyone’s recent memory. But if they had thought the heat would abide when the sun went down, they were in for a rude awakening.

You leaned against the railing of the Hard Deck, staring off into the distance at the crashing waves further down the beach. You sighed, imagining how nice the cool water would feel against your near-feverish skin. There was no breeze to speak of and you half-heartedly fanned yourself with your hand. A quickly warming glass of Jack and Coke sat near your elbow.

Behind you, the usual sounds of the bar filled the air. Laughter, yells, and even cheering as some poor person unknowingly subjected themselves to buying a round for the entire crowd. You felt your lips twitch as you glanced over your shoulder to see who it was, but your gaze fell on someone else entirely.

You had only stepped out for a moment but in that time, the naval aviators you had become friends with over the past several weeks had shown up. A quick wave from the short brunette made you push away from the railing and step back into the stifling bar.

As you pushed past several nameless servicemen, your heart did a little flip-flop. Natasha Trace, more casually known as “Phoenix” among her fellow pilots, had caught your attention from the first moment you’d met her. Not only was she incredibly beautiful, but she possessed a lightning-quick wit and packed more comebacks than anyone you knew. How could you have avoided falling for her?

And it didn’t help that from the beginning, the two of you had fallen into a routine of effortless flirting that stayed surface level, never leading to anything more than covert glances and a few accidental brushes. But it was enough to quicken your heartbeat and send pleasant tingles all over your body.

“Hey,” Phoenix said, patting the empty seat next to her as you approached. “Saved you the best seat in the house.”

Quickly you sat down, your knees oddly shaky. You only hoped the blush you felt creeping up your neck wasn’t noticeable in the dimming light.

“You look pretty tonight.” Phoenix had to lean closer to be heard over the music and drunken cheering.

You could feel her breath kiss the column of your neck and it was all you could do to sit still. To give your hands something to do, you smoothed the fabric of your sundress. Small yellow flowers stared up at you.

“How come this is the first time I’m seeing you in a dress?” Phoenix asked, her eyes tracing over the thin fabric that fell around your thighs.

You shrugged, trying to act casual but your slightly breathless voice gave you away. “Never had any reason to, I guess. Or anyone to dress up for.”

That, and the Southern California heat was murder.

Phoenix tilted her head slightly, her perfectly styled hair shining in the overhead lights. Her eyes continued to trace over your body and you willed your heart to not beat out of your chest despite its valiant effort to do just that.

Eventually, she spoke and her voice was almost a whisper. “If I had it my way, you would wear dresses all the time. That is when you’re not busy wearing nothing at all.”

A light gasp escaped your lips. Phoenix’s eyes sparkled and she grinned, clearly pleased by your reaction. Her eyes raked down your body again and you could feel the blush returning. The pilot had never said anything so blunt. It caught you off guard.

Thankfully, a quick word from Hangman had Phoenix distracted long enough for your skin to cool and your mind to start working again. At first, you were grateful for the distraction but that quickly turned to annoyance when Hangman enlisted Phoenix’s help in a game of pool against two men you didn’t recognize. By their tan uniforms, you had to assume they were also Navy but you were sure you hadn’t seen them around before.

You let out an impatient sigh and contented yourself by glaring at the back of Hangman’s head. That man had the worst timing.

Your eyes slid to Phoenix who causally leaned against the pool table, her head thrown back, laughing at something one of the strangers had said. A tight knot bunched in your stomach. Tension tightened your limbs as you watched the other girl talk with the strangers.

The game started and jabs were thrown but you couldn’t hear them over the den. Phoenix stood off to the side to let Hangman shoot. One of the strangers sidled up to her and struck up a conversation. The knot tightened. The slow seep of resentment crept into your bones, making you irritated.

Just as Phoenix laughed at something the man said, something inside you snapped. Sure, nothing ever happened between the two of you, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want something to happen. And if Hangman hadn’t interrupted earlier, it might have. Now this strange man was getting all of Phoenix’s attention.

It should have been you.

Annoyed at yourself for feeling this way and letting it get to you in the first place, you stood and quickly walked back outside.

The sun had fully set, the last hints of color fading from the sky. A slight breeze had picked up, relieving an otherwise unbearable evening. In the distance, the sound of waves crashing against the sand reached your ears.

You took a deep breath of the salty air and closed your eyes. You tried to calm your mind and sort out your feelings with no luck.

It was undeniable. You had fallen for Phoenix at some point but you just couldn’t pinpoint when. Sometime between the stolen glances, the back-and-forth chatter, and the laughter. The pilot had wormed her way into your heart and was now breaking it, all without her knowing.

You risked a glance over your shoulder to see if Phoenix was still with the stranger, but you couldn’t find either of them. They must have left. You probably should too, because you felt weirdly hollow inside.

You had just turned to walk back to your car when someone spoke.

“There you are.”

Phoenix materialized at your side and it was all you could do not to jump. As it was, you did take a couple of steps back.

The easy grin on her face faltered and she reached out to wipe a tear from your cheek. You hadn’t noticed it had fallen.

“Is everything ok?” She asked, worry knitting her eyebrows together.

You nodded, not quite trusting your voice.

“Did something happen?” Concern was evident in her voice.

“No,” you whispered, barely finding your voice. “I’m just tired. I think I should head home.”

“If this is about that guy,” Phoenix said, thrusting her thumb back at the pool tables. “He’s just a friend from basic I hadn’t seen in a while. There’s nothing going on between us.”

“It’s not that.”

Phoenix took a step forward. You barely registered that she was now in your space.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she said, trying to meet your eyes but you were gazing off into the gathering darkness beyond the railing.

You heard Phoenix blow out a long breath. Her fingers drummed faintly against the material of her pants.

“Truth is, I like you a lot. And I’ve wanted to tell you for some time now, but I didn’t know how to. Plus, I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way about me.”

In disbelief, you met Phoenix’s eyes. A shy smile graced her lips.

It wasn’t one-sided after all?

“Was that too much?” She asked, her smile slipping slightly. “I just thought-”

“Kiss me.”

“What-”

“Kiss me,” you repeated, your eyes never leaving hers.

Slowly, Phoenix brought her hands up to cradle your face. You nearly sighed feeling the light touch of her fingers. With one final step, she brought herself into your orbit completely. Her lips brushed yours ever so slightly and you could taste a hint of beer on them.

You settled your shaking hands on her waist and deepened the kiss. Glossed lips met chapped in a cautious dance of discovery. Somehow it was everything you’d imagined and more. Phoenix kissed like she flew, confident with a hint of recklessness.

Her hands threaded into your hair, pulling you closer. The skin where her fingers brushed, burned and you couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like to have her hands on other parts of your body. You shivered at the thought.

Eventually, the two of you pulled away to catch a breath. It was all you could do not to whine at the loss of her lips. You rested your foreheads against one another, panting slightly.

“That was-”

“Yeah,” Phoenix laughed breathlessly.

“Do it again.”

She eagerly complied and it was a long time before either of you went back into the bar to join your friends.

#tgm #tg #top gun phoenix #tg phoenix #natasha trace #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #natasha phoenix trace #phoenix x reader #phoenix x you #tgm fanfiction #phoenix imagine #natasha trace x reader #natasha trace x y/n #phoenix x y/n #tgm fic #tgm angst #natasha phoenix trace x reader

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straykids-97 · 7 months

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Jackson Wang Drabble 🫧

So, I’ve been listening to Jackson Wang a lot lately and I was at work listening to In My Bed and had a random smutty thought. Could honestly be applied to anyone but for the sake of canonicity it will be about the Mr. Wang.

Strangers?

You’re sitting on Jackson’s couch, enjoying the evening by playing card games and drinking. Your usual Friday night these days.

Various different songs play of the speakers of his tv and for a moment, Jackson gives you a sideways glance. You notice, but think he’s trying to read your bluff. Though, that’s not at all what he was thinking or trying to do.

After he beats you for the 7th time, you fold. “I’m done.” You grumble, snatching your drink off the table in front of you. He smiles at you as he slowly takes his drink and begins to shuffle the deck of cards once more. There was a brief pause before he speaks, “This kinda makes me think of the first time I met you.” He reminisces, a soft smile on his face as he looks at you adoringly.

You can’t help but grin back, “Oh?” The night you met was far from a simple night in playing cards with Jackson. In fact, you met him at a club. However, that night ended you with an impromptu dance lesson to one of his songs, In My Head. You both were plastered, borderline blackout drunk. You somehow managed to remember enough of the night and cherished how the two of you must have looked, drunkenly dancing and laughing at your terrible foot work as Jackson tried his damnedest to teach you any semblance of rhythm.

“So, do you come here often?” He asks, gesturing to the room. You cock a confused eyebrow, “Uh yeah. I practically live here.” You snort, twirling your drink around in your hands. “The club? You just not have much of an interesting life.” It dawns on you that he’s trying to roleplay the night you met. After the wave comes over you, you start to play along.

“Yeah well, you see,” you start to explain, “I have this boyfriend who works a lot and I’m just bored. One of my friends invited me out so…” you gesture around the room. “Here I am.” The conversation isn’t exactly what you guys had said to each other at first, but then again, you both were improvising.

“Must not be a good boyfriend if your seeking attention from bored in a club.” He sips his drink and watches you over the rim of his glass, heat in his dark irises. “I think he’s plenty good.” You defend, “he treats me well, he spoils me, he loves me…” you gave your hand, “he’s just busy with work.”

He leans in taking your glass from your hand and whispers, “a man who’s dumb enough to waste time at work and to let you come out without him, must be ignorant enough to lose a beautiful woman like you.” His voice sends chills down your spine as he creeps over your body and wraps his soft lips around yours. You whimper and your hands dive right into his hair, the kiss heating up rather quickly.

Before you knew it, he managed to wiggle you out of your shorts. He’s sitting back in his calves, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs. “I’ll show you how a real man worships their woman.” He parts your thighs and scoots back enough so that his face is level with your groin.

You gasp as he spits, the saliva landing on your damn panties. He gives you that infamous grin as he hooks his forefinger around the hem of your panties. You shudder and he presses a flat tongue to your clot, causing your back to arch off the soft couch. “God- Jack!” You cry out, making a deep rumble emit from the back of his throat.

He wastes no time and immediately presses two fingers into your soaked core, your hands flying to his shaggy licks to grip anything of his. You moan out to God as he causes wave after wave of euphoria.

Finally, he pulls away. His lips and chin are soaked as is the couch beneath you, a mixture of his spit and your juices coat the three surfaces of your thighs, his face and the fabric of the couch.

Panting, you stare down at the man between your thighs. “That’s not how our night ended.” He grins at you as he presses a kiss on the inside of your thigh. “No,” he sighs, coming up to level with your face, “but… that’s how I wanted it to.”

#jackson wang smut #kpop smut #Drabble #smut Drabble #Jackson wang hard thought

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scintillyyy · 2 months

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I'm having trouble choosing between Dick and Tim for the ask game, so instead, I choose Janet!

janetttt <3

Headcanon A: realistic

janet spoke to divorce lawyers three times in her marriage. once was a few months after the circus when her and jack's marriage first started to break down because jack checked out emotionally from the marriage after witnessing the death of the graysons. the second was when tim was 9, they got in a bad fight over jack's tendency to make deals and promises for the company at the gentleman's club without consulting her. the last was the last time they were home before their final trip. they'd long since moved into separate rooms. if they weren't fighting, they weren't talking. what kind of marriage was that? but she hesitated when it came time to actually file. the finality of it scared her, a bit. janet loved her family, after all. should she really upheave her entire life, or could they work it out one last time? if she gets divorced, she has to start everything all over again. she decided trying to save things was worth one last shot.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

janet was big into babywearing when tim was an infant! it's how she could be the woman who could do it all--work & mothering. she had a ring sling with fabric made of vicuña and cashmere. it worked for a few months up until tim learned how to crawl & then there was no keeping him in any sort of carrier without very loud protest & all her meticulous plans to supervise her digs with tim on her back came crashing down to the ground where the fabric of her fancy ring sling also lay, trampled on by her toddler's feet.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

bruce never told tim, but it was very easy to transfer him from boarding school to public school during the time he fostered tim while jack was in a coma. when bruce called the boarding school to get tim's school records transferred over to gotham heights high and cancel the enrollment in boarding school for next semester, the office informed him that there was no need to--his mother had already done exaxtly that about a month before her death.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

janet had started writing a book before she died about the history of gotham city. she was about 80% done with her manuscript. tim found it among his dad's belongings. tim gets the great idea he's going to finish it. it doesn't go well & he fails miserably. helena finds it, along with all of tim's scribbled notes, one day while she's at the nest to talk to him about a case, and can clearly tell he's struggling with it. she remembers that a coworker of hers has been trying to get published with a book of his own, but hasn't been able to get his foot in the door with any publishing companies. she surreptitiously leaves tim his name & contact info by the manuscript.

a few days later, the wayne foundation reaches out to her coworker--they're looking for someone to finish and clean up janet drake's book for publishing. they're offering a chance to get his foot in the door & some pretty sweet publishing connections if he takes them up on their offer. he gladly does, and janet drake's posthumous book tops the nonfiction bestseller list for weeks & helena's coworker scores a 3 book deal of his own. helena's just glad to see her coworker finally get the chance he deserves & to see tim happy. tim builds her a very sweet huntress car for her help. it's perfect. except for the fact that he gave it the license plate "P0P3MBL"

#scintilly ask tag #omnivorouspastry

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bigwishes · 1 year

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Hey could you help me out?

I've been applying to some of the frat houses, but I've never gotten invited. They always make fun of my small frame, saying I should apply to somewhere else.

Is there a way I can get back to that asshole leader. I want him to cower in front of me. I want to be taller and more muscular then any of those douchbags, so they beg me to join them.

Oh sorry you've been having trouble finding a frat to join but I think I know a group of guys who can help you. Funnily enough they made a wish too but don't worry about that.

Brinley, Brayden and Bruce. The three had wished for some jerky jock personalities and they got what they wished for but now they also wanna have the best A lister only party. Well I've already gone ahead and asked them for a favour since I've now granted them two wishes, don't be shy and introduce yourself.

"Hey bro, you can totally join our frat" "Yeah bruh, you'll be so good for what we asked for" "Yeah, man, you'll look so good"

The three pull away to themselves and leave you standing there whilst they chat and laugh, you catch a couple bits of the conversation something about "how big did you ask for?" followed by Brinley and Bruce breaking out in that stupid bro chuckle whilst shoving Brayden between the two of them. They began to turn back and you heard "don't worry, he'll definitely listen"

"Okay bro, all ya gotta do to join our frat is....ride home in the car with us" "yeah bruh and hurry the fuck up we gotta get stuff for the party" "ye-yeah, let get going huh huh" Brinley and Bruce burst out laughing again shoving Brayden calling him a fag. You have no idea what's going on but this could be your only chance to join a frat so you follow them back to their car. You get in and the floor is covered in energy drink cans, the car stinks of stale sweat as you see three gym bags stuffed in the back. Brinley and Bruce take the front two seats whilst you were stuck in the back seat next to Brayden. Brayden stuck his hand under his backwards cap scratching his head and biting down on his lip, almost salivating looking at you. But what why was that jacked stud drooling over your average skinny frame. "Ooooh Brayden, excited about his big changes?" "Yaahhh Brayden, why don't you stick your face in the big boys pits" "BRUH SHUT THE FUCK UP" The car started, buzzing to life and you instantly felt weird like your lungs had been replaced with a void, every breath you took seemed endless. You began breathing through your mouth deeply, huffing like you'd just been running for an hour. You looked down at your body and noticed your chest puffing out with each breath, building, becoming more and more solid. Your arms tingled as they began to inflate. Your shirt rips apart around your torso.

"oh, errr here bro, have my tank top. might be a tight fit huh huh" "YOO BRAYDEN, ROCKIN A HARDY THERE MATE HAHAHA" You noticed Brayden's hard on straining against the fabric of his shorts as he threw his shirt at you. As you put it on you couldn't help noticed what happened to you in the car mirror.

You'd some how bulked up, going from looking like a twig to a football playing jock in a matter of seconds. The tank barely covered your torso, leaving the sides of your chest exposed. Brayden sat next to you staring at your body biting his lip drooling and with all this muscle some confidence was brewing in your gut and you wanted to slam Brayden into a wall.

"oi, don't get comfy mate, Brayden asked for more" "BRO SHUT THE FUCK UP" "you're gonna be on door duty tonight big fella," Great, your first party and your stuck as the fucking door man. Soon the four of you had pulled up at a cheap looking frat house. It looked pretty run down but so did most of the houses on the block. Something still felt off, your body ached. You needed whatever this pain was to go away before the night. Even if you were just the fucking door lacky you needed to be at the top of your game for any guys who might wanna stay the night. Bruce showed you to your room and left you alone until the party. You took a deep breath and the void reappeared in your chest. Each breath your body inflated more, bursting out of your tank and pants leaving you in stretched out briefs.

You couldn't believe how fucking incredible you looked and you were now so fucking horny. You had to find Brayden, he seemed to be drooling over you before so surely he'd wanna feel your massive arms now. You bit down on your lip thinking about shoving Brayden's head down on to your waste and skull fucking him.

You called out for him asking for help with moving something, but when he appeared in your doorway you grabbed him by the shirt and stared to undress him. He wrapped his hands around your torso and dug his fingers into your newly formed back muscles but the pleasure didn't last long before the aches and pains were back, but this time instead of just the feeling of your muscled getting bigger it felt like your spine was snapping. You dropped Brayden on the floor and watched as him and the floor seemed to be getting further and further away. You felt your arms move outwards from your body and your shoulders and lats got wider. Your body became thicker and thicker. You looked at the doorframe it looked like you wouldn't even be able to get through without turning sideways at this point.

Now standing at 8.6ft tall and wider than the door frame you were shocked and what you'd become.

"DUDE WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU GUYS DO TO ME" "oh fuck, when I wished for a large door man...I really got a large door man huh" "WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN" "Bro relax, you're huge and fucking stunning" "Look, It'd be hot if I wasn't at risk of crushing the guy" The other two appeared in the doorway "LETS FUCKING GO BOIIIIS" "HAHA Brayden when you wished for a big door man you really a man..whos a door AHAHAHAHA" "I'm not gonna be your fucking door man, I'm taking this body out on the fucking town boys, not standing in a doorway all night" "OOFT, nah, sorry mate we wished for you so we get what we want" Brinley snapped his fingered and it felt like firecrackers in your head, a moment later your head was hung slack and drool poured out of your mouth and onto your chest. "Okay big man, time for some adjustments, FIRST you'll always be our doorman, personal bouncer and do everything you're told" "OH OH OH, AND SECOND YOU'RE BRAYDON'S PERSONAL FUCK MACHINE HAHAHAHA" "DUDE YOU FUCKING IDIOT, WHAT DID YOU JUST DO" "relax man" "No you fucking idiot, we only got 2 braincells to give him" "huh?" "Jesus fucking Christ Bruce, you always fuck things up like this" "What are we gonna do with this animal now?" "hmm, I've got an idea, but I'll explain after the party"

The lads first party wasn't exactly the A lister only they wished for but, it was good enough to spread the word and Brinley had the bright idea of opening their own mini nightclub in the basement. People would come from every corner of campus just to try and get in, but they had to get past you. The enourmous fucking door man blocking the entrance to the house every single night for hours on end, sometimes not moving for up to 8 hours at a time. But surely there was atleast some part of you left in that empty head because every night when the leaders of other frats came to party you picked them up by the scruff of their shirt and threw them on the street and non of them ever tried to fight back, one even pissed his pants when you caught him sneaking in through the window.

This is you now, from skinny lil bloke looking for a frat to massive brainless hulk who does exactly what he's told and has frat leaders begging him to let them through to the best party on campus.

#male transformation #muscle transformation #muscle #male tf #reality change #tf story #gay transformation

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