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highdramas · 2 months ago

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it had to be you | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!attending!reader warnings: language, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), references to sex but nothing explicit, sweet sweet fluff <3 word count: 3k summary: it is the first year you're attending PTMC's annual gala as an attending. it's also your first year with a date. notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. GALA FIC GALA FIC GALA FIC <3 this is a part of the ring of fire interconnected series, but it’s not necessary to read the prior parts to understand this fic. if you would like to, though, you can find the masterlist here <3 not proofread so apologies for any errors!

“i don’t know…” you hands trail down your torso, looking at yourself and your dress in the mirror. “i think it’s too much. do you think it’s too much? is the red giving, like…” you chuckle a little bit to yourself. “i dunno, blood?”

jack rounds the corner from the en suite bathroom, leaning in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his immaculate dress pants. pressed, tailored, and fitting his legs perfectly– you know if he turned around, you’d find that it fit his ass perfectly, too. not fair, you think to yourself. simply not fair for him to look like that.

his eyes find yours in the mirror, but not before you watch him take in the sight of you from behind. his chest rises with a big inhale, blowing it out through his mouth. “i don’t know how to say this nicely,” he takes a step closer to you. “or gentlemanly. but here goes: if someone saw you in that and their first thought is blood, they might be certifiably fucking insane.” his hands settle onto your hips and he pulls you back into him, back to front, a kiss being placed onto your shoulder. “wear it. it’s perfect.”

“i don’t want to be the gala harlot.”

the vibration of his laughter hits the spot between your shoulder blades and you practically keel over. “it’s perfect.” his hand smacks his favorite spot– your ass. “besides, i found this, and i thought i’d wear it. match you.”

you turn in his arms and he reveals a signet ring, resting on his pinky– a beautiful, flat ruby settled into it. it’s almost a perfect color match. “i didn’t want to go full prom, red tie, but this…” he shrugs his shoulders and looks at you with one perfectly arched brow. “what do you think?”

both of your hands take his and you bring his palm up to your mouth, kissing it. “it’s perfect.”

that look dawns on him. the look that tells you that he has plans that are so far away from any gala, hospital fundraiser, or anywhere in between. you point at him. “don’t.” he leans in and presses your hair back with a delicately precise motion. capable hands. god, you love his hands. “jack. we’ll be late.”

“don’t care.”

“i do,” you rub at his arms, where they encircle your waist and tug you ever-closer, until you’re practically one body instead of two. you feel like that most days, anyway.

you’ve found your rhythm. going from not-official to very-official wasn’t as jarring as you thought it might be, and definitely not as jarring for jack. it was, largely, simple. it was all of the other stuff that wasn’t simple.

it was the fact that now, when you entered work together, you got smirks from tired day crew folks. it was the fact that now, when you have one of your little spats– never disrespectful, always passionate– from across each other, trying to determine the best course of care for a patient, someone else in the room has to determine it a lovers quarrel.

when it was just the two of you, holed up in jack’s apartment after a long shift… it was quieter. you missed that, sometimes.

but jack loving you out loud is worth the stares and the remarks. because you love the way that his gaze lingers on you, freely, wherever you are. you love that he comes by and slides a granola bar into your pocket when he has watched you go nonstop for hours, barely even coming up for air. you love that he’s your boyfriend, but he’s still your attending, too. he’s still your teacher. you love when he guides you through an insane procedure that he hasn’t performed since he was overseas. you love when it works.

even when it doesn’t work. when you work side by side and for as good as you are together, for all of the lives that you save together and apart, you can’t save everyone. and when you find that familiar feeling of despair, and shame, and like maybe this isn’t what you’re built for, jack still finds your eyes. finds your heart, your fear, your anguish. and he walks through it with you. god, he’s good at walking through it with you.

you hope that he feels you’re as good to him as he is to you. it’s the only goal you’re ever trying to achieve, the one way that you want to measure up.

“this is my first time going to this thing as an attending,” you say, not without significant nerves. “now i have to talk to donors and it means something.”

“i’ll be there,” jack says easily, squeezing your arms. he kisses your shoulder again, open mouthed and hot, and it makes your head fall forward, leaning against his shoulder. “you think i’m gonna leave your side tonight, with you looking like that? i’ll be following you like a lost dog.”

a chuckle bubbles out of you and you meet his eyes through your eyelashes. he looks diabolically handsome– he kept his stubble, which you love, obviously– to the untrained eye, he looks polished. but there’s still that roguish glint to him, the thing that no amount of suits or shiny dress shoes could wipe away. “i’ll put you on a leash,” you joke.

“you could do anything you want to me, kid.”

the two of you watch each other thoughtfully. there’s no need to fill the space with words, when silence is this comfortable. it’s a byproduct of years of mentoring, knowing, loving. “you’ll really stay with me?” you ask, your insecurities scratching at your heels.

“you know i will,” he says. “i’ve gone to this thing for a million years. big donors want to know the same three things– tell me about the most impactful case you’ve worked on recently. how do you do it all. can you tell me that my money goes to those who need it. simple.” he can tell that you’re not convinced. “we could always smoke a little.”

you gape at him. “i am not smoking before work.”

“come on– you’re not intubating anyone! we’re gonna be talking with suits!” he laughs at your reaction. “alright, suit yourself. i smoke before it every year.”

within ten minutes, a roach is stubbed out in his ashtray, your lipgloss clinging to the filter.

–

“look at you two!” dana gives you and jack big hugs outside of the ballroom where the gala was taking place, squeezing you against her tightly. “you two look sharp.”

you’re feeling light from the weed, nerves settled like sand at the bottom of the ocean. you look over at jack and pick a strand of your hair off of his suit jacket. he looks at you and shrugs his shoulders. “she laid out my outfit last night,” he jokes, and it makes you groan and roll your eyes.

you shove him a bit and dana laughs. “oh, yeah? been together what, six months, already acting as mama?”

you scrunch your nose up and give her a sideways glance. “hell no.” you laugh and jack has that smug smile on his face. “he’s a big boy. he took care of himself long before i came into the picture.”

dana winks at you. “smart girl. abbot, she’s your lady, not a maid, alright? i don’t peg you as the type, but–”

“yes, ma’am.”

dana laughs. “alright. i’ll see you in there.”

you suck in a big breath. by your side, jack does the same. “are you nervous?” you ask.

“nah. my leg.” he shifts his weight slightly, and your mouth goes into a straight line, suddenly as serious as a heart attack. “don’t look at me like that, doctor. i’m good.”

“okay, but if it’s too much–”

“i know. i’ll sit down and take a break.” he rubs his hand up and down on your lower back. “we should get in there, huh?”

“you’re just trying to get me to stop being all doctor on you.”

he pats your ass one time, with no eyes to take it in. “dunno what you’re talking about.” he says it with that deadpan expression that he loves to wear, but you see the mirth in his eyes.

jack takes your hand and leads you in. the ballroom is immaculate– you’ve never seen anything so… frivolous. it’s the only word that you can think of. there’s waitstaff flitting about with trays of hors d'oeuvres, flute glasses filled with sparkling champagne.

when you look over at jack, he wears a similar, thinly veiled expression of mild disgust. you make eye contact. each of you rolls your eyes at one another, and you slide your arm through his and lean in with a smile. “we could probably give every nurse a significant raise with the money that it took to throw this,” you say under your breath.

“why do you think i need to smoke before i step foot in here,” jack responds.

he guides you towards your place setting– a big circular table, with spots for each attending physician. you gulp when you see your name plate– your name with the appropriate prefix. you pick it up and examine it with a slightly amused smile. you show it to jack who doesn’t say anything, but you can feel pride radiate off of him in little ripples in the way that he puts his hand on the back of your neck and squeezes.

the remarks are kicked off by gloria, and you take a seat. jack tugs your chair so that he can put a dangled arm, draped across the back of it, his fingers brushing your shoulder. you maintain enough self control to not put your hand on his knee. every once and awhile his index finger will trail the back of your neck, the sensitive place between your shoulder blades. you shoot him daggers. he winks.

you finally relent and put that hand on his knee of his right leg.

as you continue to sit, you watch jack shift. in that way that he does when his hip is starting to ache– and you’re tuned in to him and his needs, instantly. you squeeze his knee to get his attention while gloria continues to drone on… and on… and on. “you okay?” you mouth the two words, concern written in the way that your brows furrow.

he gives a noncommittal sound and he gestures for your purse. you fish the little orange bottle out that you always carry for him, and hand him the proper dosage for when phantom pain comes for him.

if it weren’t your partner that were experiencing it, you would find the concept of phantom pain… fascinating, medically. the brain is a powerful, sometimes too powerful, organ. but because it’s jack, and because you can see the set in his jaw and the way that he shifts again in his chair, you don’t care what the brain is capable of. all you care is that his brain stop.

he knocks the pill back and hands the bottle back to you. the slight rattle gets whitaker looking over in your direction, and you make a motion with your finger that says turn around before i make you. he complies with a quickness, and you settle once more with your hand to jack’s leg. you squeeze, gently, only half focused on the words that gloria says.

jack’s hand goes back to its favorite place: the back of your neck. it’s where you carry the majority of the tension in your body. you think jack likes being able to alleviate that, even if just for a moment. you also think he simply likes the way that your eyes roll back, the way that you’ll sometimes steady yourself with a hand that brushes his knee, or waist. you think he likes knowing that he can melt you with one touch in an instant.

now is no different. your eyes flutter shut, and when they open, jack is staring at you with a look of satisfaction that’s only brought out from making you feel good.

“you’re a dog,” you say under your breath.

“you told me you’d get a leash.”

keeping your laughter inside, gloria wraps up her remarks, and encourages everyone in the room to mingle, drink, eat, and dance. you and jack stand, hand in hand, and look at each other with an identical expression that reads, thank god. he leads you to the bar without another word.

that watchful eye stays upon him, and as you wait for your drinks– his whiskey, your martini– he rubs your back and adds, “meds are working.”

“good.”

“you don’t need to watch me like a hawk.”

this gets you to scowl. the drinks are slid in your direction and you take yours, gently clinking your glass to his. “have you ever thought,” you lean in. “maybe i just like looking at you tonight?”

you don’t know if it’s scientifically possible for an eye color to darken in a split second. but if it can, jack’s do. he knocks the contents in his cup back and holds his hand out for you. “dance with me.”

“your leg–”

“if my leg hurts from dancing with you, then so be it. well worth it.” he pauses. “what’s the murakami quote… pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.”

you’re unconvinced, but moved regardless. “you are dramatic.”

“yes i am,” jack flexes his hand. “are you really gonna turn me down in front of our peers? that’s just rude.”

you roll your eyes at him, but your smile is wide and it’s bright and it’s the smile that you get on your face because of jack, and jack alone. you set your drink to the side and take jack’s hand and let him lead you to the dance floor.

people know that you and jack are together, yes, but it’s rare they see you so free with your affection. javadi’s eyes are as big as saucers as the two of you pass by her and mateo. you wink. your arms and hands settle into place: jack’s on your waist. your arms dangled on his shoulders.

it had to be you plays over the speaker system as the two of you take the floor– the harry connick jr. version, the one in when harry met sally. a little bit more flirtatious than the original, the two of you sway in time.

“remember when we watched this movie? way early on?” you reminisce with a big smile on your face.

“oh, i remember. the scene in the diner… you blushed when that came on,” he snickers and his hands tighten on your body. “i don’t think we’d even kissed yet.”

“i didn’t know if you were…” you shrug your shoulders. “i dunno. i think, at that point, i still kind of thought it was all just up in my head. yeah, it’s one thing to smoke weed and watch a movie with your mentor. it’s another to want to have sex with him.” you peer up at him through your lashes. “and i wanted to do all three.”

“ah, kid, you always were an overachiever.”

you laugh, leaning forward. his hand comes up to cup the back of your head as you rest your cheek against his chest, eyes closing, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. his hand slips under your hair and continues to rub at your neck. you sigh. it feels like everything is at right in the world.

“you know,” he starts, his cheek resting on the top of your head. “i could do this forever.”

“dance?”

he chuckles. “no.” your head lifts up and you’re face to face. he takes your hand, puts it on the spot where you just listened to his heart. “just… this.”

the gravity of his words click into place. “oh.”

“yeah.”

there’s a gentleness to his eyes and his words. almost vulnerable– but trusting, too. “i could too,” you affirm without another thought required. you lean forward, your lips at his ear. “as long as you’ll have me, dr. abbot.”

if there was any distance left between the two of you, jack abandons it, pulling you in. he presses a kiss against your cheek.

as he does, a throat clears. you both look over, slightly misty-eyed and fully in love, to see gloria with a pleasantly manufactured smile plastered across her face. “oh, you two. adorable.” she looks at her watch. “patricia miller is here. just lost of her husband. big donor– big romantic, too. i would like you two to get to talking with her before she leaves. don’t forget to share you’re together. that’ll do wonders on her.” she tilts her head to the side. “enjoy your evening. don’t forget to take home a goodie bag.”

gloria saunters off. you look over to jack.

the two of you laugh, loudly, drawing eyes in your direction. robby and collins share a glance, trying to figure out what on earth could possibly be so funny. whitaker checks his shirt to make sure he doesn’t have a stain.

“man,” jack says. “duty calls, right?”

“guess so.” you run your hand up the back of jack’s head, through his silver curls. you feel him shiver as you rake your nails down. there’s a moment where you hesitate, but you don’t find yourself in the business of holding back where jack is concerned, so you say it anyway: “what are they gonna do when there’s two dr. abbot’s? they might combust from donation possibility. nothing sells like a love story.”

jack’s eyes flash. if before wasn’t enough… you think this might just be the confirmation he needs. he doesn’t say anything at first. he leans and he kisses you, taking you somewhere far, far away from this ballroom. “i think i’ll be the one combusting first.”

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #jack abbot imagine #jack abbott imagine #jack abbot #jack abbott #the pitt fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #the pitt #dr abbot x reader #my writing #ring of fire

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yanderedrabbles · 5 months ago

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The North Wind & His Bride

The North Wind was the coldest and cruelest of winds. So when a man came to your father's door claiming to be him and asking for your hand, your father was quick to turn him away.

"My daughter is too bright and too kind to be wasted on the worst of the winds. Come back once you learn to carry spring on your breath instead of snow."

And all that night the wind whispered down your chimney. You dreamt strange dreams - of the colours found only at the edge of the world, of snow flurries and seas black as night.

The man returned the next day. And your father once again refused him. "Come back when you can grant succor to the poor and the pitiful and not freeze them where they sleep."

That night, the wind keened even higher and rattled the window shutters. You dreamt of a wedding dress with frost for lace and a ring the gold of sunrise on snow. When you woke, your ring finger was cold as ice.

The man did not come again that day and you huddled close to the fire, rubbing warmth back into your bones. Your father paced his study and tried to scheme a way of avoiding the wind.

That night, the air laid still as in a coffin and you slept the black sleep of the drowned. You woke in time to see the first snow of the year, two months too early.

Your father's crops froze in the ground or rotted with the thaw. He paced his study and tried to scheme a way of avoiding the creditors.

When next your suitor came, your father's good manners had been worn down by debt collectors and bank notes. He snapped at the wind like a thing cornered. "Come back when you can guide ships safe to port and not wreck them on icy shores."

That night, a blizzard blew in from the north and any creature not crouched by the fire or huddled indoors was found frozen solid. You dreamt again, of a man with cold hands and even colder eyes who danced with you under foreign stars.

Your suitor did not come again but terrible news did. Your brother's ship was wrecked by a storm high on the winter coast. All souls were lost.

Through your grief, a terrible anger began to grow.

When next your suitor came, you greeted him at the door. He had a face as finely chiseled as an ice sculpture and eyes the deep black of the hinterland sea.

"If you would have me as your bride, then I will have a dowry from you."

He took your hand in his and his touch chilled you worse than a corpse's would. He looked at you with a hunger born out of winter and scarcity and cold.

"Anything. Ask anything of me and you can have it."

All through your brother's funeral you thought of ways to avenge him. And now you asked the North Wind for the one thing you thought he could never obtain.

"In a kingdom far south of here, where the snow never falls and the winter never comes, there is a jewel carved from the sun God's bones. Bring me that as a wedding band and I will be your bride."

You thought he would flinch or ask you to reconsider. Instead he bowed and kissed your hand and said he would soon return.

You felt your hope slipping, but he did not return the next day. Or the day after that. The end of autumn came without snow or gales or the return of your suitor. Slowly, you began to breathe again. Began to heal from your brother's death. Began to dream of summer and love and fresh fruit bursting between your teeth.

The winter equinox dawned with clear skies. There was to be feasting that night, and dancing. You dressed your hair with silver chains and sweetened your lips with winter berries. When the music started, one young man after another swept you into his arms and spun you around the bonfire. You tilted your head back and laughed and flirted and forgot all about your suitor.

Near midnight, the wind started to blow. The fire hissed as snowflakes drifted down from suddenly cloudy skies. Your dance partner caught one on his glove and offered it to you. Daring and high on the thrill of dancing, you licked it off his finger. "Tastes of winter in storm," you teased and when he took you for another dance, you wondered if you'd caught yourself a husband.

He spun you around but the arms that caught you were icy cold even through the fine velvet of the wearer's suit.

Midnight tolled and you looked up into the eyes of the North Wind.

He pulled your hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against your skin. At his touch, even the bonfire at your back seemed to lose its warmth.

"The journey south was wrecked with danger and the sun almost melted me clean away, but I have brought your dowry."

Before you could pull away, he slipped a ring onto your finger. It was the gold of fire and sunset and desert sand, and it's warmth spread through you.

The snow turned into a blizzard but you didn't notice it. The wind outside the safety of his arms was sharp as stinging nettles and the townsfolk called to each other in panic, barely able to keep their torches from blowing out.

The North Wind kissed your cheek, eyes glimmering with triumph.

"You're mine now. My spring bride, my dearest love."

All your dreams of a sweet summer love melted. When the snow finally settled, you were no longer in the town square but in a throne room at the edge of the world. Green and blue lights danced in the sky and shone through the palace ceiling, bathed your new husband in all the colours of his kingdom.

He leaned forward and claimed his first kiss.

When you pulled away and tried to step out of his embrace, he tightened his grip and his smile both.

"You are my wife now," he explained in a voice as comforting as frostbite, "And a wife cannot refuse her husband's love."

Your sun ring was the only spot of warmth on your body and you clung desperately to the anchor it offered.

"I would not refuse you, husband of mine. But I am the daughter and the sister of common men and there are traditions to uphold before I can climb into your wedding bed."

"What more must I do to have you?"

What would he be unable to do, here at the end of the world?

"Build me a fire that burns all day and all night on one stick of wood and you can have me as promised."

"These are strange traditions you have, wife of mine. But I have come this far to have you, and I will go further yet."

He left you with a flurry of snow and the hissing shriek of a gale. When he was gone, you paced the throne room from one end to the other and could not find a door. Everything about the room was as stark and cold as he.

Exhausted and chilled, you sat at the foot of his throne. What terrible thing did you do to earn the love of the North Wind? You wiped away your tears and then jumped at the hissing sound they made when they touched your ring. Like water spilled on coals.

"You've melted his heart," your ring hissed. "And he cannot afford to let you go."

You stared at your hand. Eventually you found your voice and the strength to ask, "How do I escape him?"

"Trick him. His heart holds all his power. If you have it, you can ride the wind far from here. He was once a man and still might be tempted into a deal."

The ring was silent after that and you waited for your husband's return with bated breath. It was dawn when he came to you, a branch slung over his shoulder. It was of a dry, white wood that you didn't recognise.

There were no fireplaces in the North Wind's palace and so he laid the branch at your feet before he lit it. It caught with a harsh crackle and fire spread across it in a greenish haze. You stretched your fingers out to feel the heat and even the meagre warmth of it was a comfort.

But that comfort turned to a slow dawning horror when you realised the branch wasn't turning to ash. The fire ate at it but the wood refused to darken.

"It's a branch from Death's own orchard," your husband said proudly. "It can burn for eternity and never go out."

"Well done," you said, even though your lips were numb from panic. "But we must watch it burn for the full day and night or else our marriage cannot be consummated."

He sat down beside you and curled his arm around your waist. "It is an easy task to watch this fire, wife of mine. When I grow tired, I need only think of the reward that awaits me."

For a whole day and night, the North Wind held you his arms and watched the fire burn. When Dawn's light touched his palace again, he kissed your shoulder and then your neck and then your lips. He sighed with a deep contentment.

"At last I will have you."

With each kiss, you felt yourself grow colder. With each caress, the binding ties of marriage grew tighter. All night you thought of a trade to offer him and now you said it aloud.

"Husband of mine, I will come willingly to your bed and serve willingly as your wife. But I would ask you first for a boon."

"Ask, wife of mine. If it is mine to grant, then I shall grant it."

You slipped off his lap and turned to look at him.

"I would have your heart."

The North Wind sighed and miles away, a gale began to form. "You already have it."

"So have said countless suitors over countless years to countless girls. And still they were unfaithful, unkind. If your love ever turns away from me, I will be stuck here at the end of world with naught but sea bears and ice hounds to comfort me."

The North Wind sat on his throne and regarded you with eyes old as the mountains. In his own hall, in his own country, he did not seem like a man who could easily be tricked. Still, you tried. You let your hands drift across his cheeks and up his thighs, let his skin bask in the warmth of your touch.

"Grant me this, husband. And I will be yours for eternity."

Was it lust or love that made him hand you a knife and bid you cut out his heart? He guided your hand to the tender spot between his ribs and the bare skin of his chest almost made your reconsider.

The blade was carved out of whalebone and moonlight and he was bleeding before you even pressed down. You thought of your brother, drowned in the ice so far from home and found the strength to slice into him.

The blood that welled up from his chest was thick and black as oil. Where it touched your skin, hoatfrost bloomed.

He didn't seem to feel any pain - he only pulled you higher up his lap and watched the guilt and horror flicker across your face.

When the cut was deep enough, you pushed your hand into his chest and felt for his heart. His organs were colder even than his skin and it felt like you'd sunk your hands into snow.

The beating of his heart mirrored yours and when you finally grabbed it, the thrumming of his blood sounded just like your own.

You held the North Wind's heart in your hand and pulled it from his chest.

All at once, in all the countless winter kingdoms, the wind stopped howling and the snow grew still.

His heart was the size of your palm and oozed icy blood over your fingers. It was so cold that at first you didn't realise the numbness in your hand was spreading. It crawled up your arm like a burning frost and locked your bones in place.

You couldn't drop his heart even if you tried.

The North Wind looked at you with an indulgent, amused smile. And when the ice reached your heart he leaned up and kissed you.

He kissed you and for once his lips felt warm, felt human. Dimly, you realised it wasn't him who was getting warmer, it was you who was freezing over. Becoming a thing of ice and hunger as he was.

"Now you need never fear I will abandon you." The North Wind ran his hands up your sides and warmth bloomed in his wake.

"Now you can control the wind as I do and ride it to the furthest reaches of the world. You can swim with the sea bears and dance with the witches."

You looked down and realised his heart was almost gone, melted into your bones and blood.

He kissed you again. "My love, you are as free as the wind."

It wasn't until then that you realised the cost of freedom. The cost of having the North Wind's heart. And when he drew you up in his arms and lead you to your wedding bed, you were too cold to turn him away.

#Yandere Fairytales #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere oc x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere male #fem reader #Reader insert #X Reader #Fables #Folk tales #Tales from the hinterland #fairy tales

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bunny-jpeg · 5 months ago

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crisp mornings

simon "ghost" riley

tags: smut/pwp, morning sex, age gap (20s/40s), oral sex, cowgirl position, size difference/kink, retired!simon

sun gleamed through the window in the bedroom. despite living in london, you had seen yourself quite a bit of sun. but this fall day only had streaks of light between grey clouds. you rolled over against your lover and pressed your cheek against his hard chest.

the solid mass of him made you feel protected as you snuggled up against him. he huffed and wrapped his tattooed arm around you. he pulled you closer to him and buried his nose in your hair. he exhaled deeply, feeling content as he held you.

"mornin'." he said as he slowly opened his dark eyes, "lights botherin' ya?" he looked towards the window.

you placed your hand on his chest. the little diamond on your wedding ring gleamed in the morning light. you replied, "nothing your cuddles won't fix." then kissed his muscular chest.

simon curled up closer to you and cupped your behind. he snuggled up closer towards his sweet wife. even gave your behind a small squeeze which made you playfully slap his chest. he only chuckled in response, "aw, i thought you liked when i played with your behind." his voice was like honey and it made your body feel hotter.

"i do. now, do you want some morning tea?" then cupped his scarred face for a moment before you tried to get up. but you didn't get far as he pulled you back into bed and kissed you on the mouth.

"could think of something else to have. something much, much better, lovie." he took hold of you tightly, "something to wet the throat." then licked his lips, his tongue grazed across the scar on his lip.

you cupped our older lover's face and looked him in the eyes, you smiled at him, "i think tea and a blow job will get your going." then pulled away. simon wasn't going to say no to that.

simon was used to the rough and tough of life. so to have a cute little missuses bring him tea in the morning was a bit of a shock at first. but now, he had grown to accept it. you wanted to do things for him, just as he did for you.

you were a marriage of equals after all.

but, he did like the sight of his padding out of the bedroom and return soon after with a mug of tea in hand. dressed in simon's shorts, baggy sleeping shorts and fluffy socks that were pulled past your ankles. you looked comfortable, and simon loved it.

he wondered if there were panties under the shorts, the pair you had on last night were over the desk chair at the corner of the room.

"here you go, honey." you smiled at simon who took the cup from you. before you could sit down next to him on the bed, he gentle pushed you down on your knees. you giggled as you put your hands on his thighs, "someone wants it."

"for you? always, i always want you." he said as you moved your hands to the waistband of his sweatpants. he admired you on your knees, he enjoyed the view. you looked good. you could feel his erection through his sweatpants. you pulled it down and you shifted a little on your knees to get more comfortable.

you took his quickly, lips wrapped around his cock as deep as you could take it. he was big in so many ways, broad shoulders, strong neck, large arms and a massive cock. it took years of dating to take him properly in your aching cunt. you took him beautifully now, you knew exactly how to make him feel beyond amazing. you shifted your knees once more and felt the ache in your core. a want for him.

"oh, hell, love. ya feel like heaven. my little slice of paradise. glad i put a ring on you." he combed his rough fingers through your soft hair as you continued to suck him off.

"si..." you said as you pressed your hot cheek against his thick thigh.

"let's get this shirt off of you, love." he said as he pulled the t-shirt off of you, it left you near naked. you then quickly got your shorts off before you got you got your mouth back on his cock.

the throb of want was felt to your core as you orally pleasured him. he held onto your head a little tighter. you looked like a dream on your knees with simon's cock in your mouth. he loved the feeling, felt perfect around his cock. that was why you're the good wife that simon knew you were.

"my good girl, right, angel?" he kissed you on the top of your head. then continued to move your head up and down his cock. he felt the staggering heat in his stomach. made the fire in his blood only grow hotter. you were damn near perfect, electric as you moved your head up and down. he was painfully in love with you, everything about you.

you were his younger wife that he slipped a ring on when you failed your military entrance exam for the fifth time. simon thought you were a better wife than a soldier.

now you were on your knees, giving your husband the wake up he deserved. drool coated your chin as you pleasured him. you felt the curl of want in your soul. the throb was in the back of your head as you continued to move.

"my fuckin' girl, my missues, my cock hungry little thing." he shuddered as he gripped your head a little tigher as he took a sip of his tea. you knew exactly how he liked it. a bit of milk and a little sugar, perfect.

you moaned from his words as you felt the pleasure between your legs. you moaned as you moved faster. the intense heat left your core throbbing, you felt painfully hot with sweat on your skin. you held onto his thick thighs tighter and moaned around his cock.

soon, simon took your mouth off of his cock and you whined. he picked you up with relative ease and got those panties off of you before you seated yours on his cock. he sipped into you with every more ease.

he groaned as he placed a hand on your hips and picked his cup off the nightstand where he put it before he picked you up. he sipped his tea while you rode him. he admired you as he said, "always make it perfect, love." he kissed your collarbone, his lips warmed by the morning drink. you moved yourself against him and he loved the feeling. he felt the emotional high only increased at the feeling of you/

your cute cunt around his cock as you rode him like you had done so many times. you held onto his shoulders while he drank his warm tea. he admired you and you felt sweat along your backside. you looked beautiful to simon, such a sweet little thing. he couldn't get enough, that was his wife.

the only mrs. riley.

he groaned through a tense jaw and you moved faster. he felt his pulse pick up at the sensation of your cunt around him. "my, my, mrs. riley. most probably feel bad for you. seein' my ugly mug every day." but his words were silenced for a moment before you pulled him in for a moment. he had to steady himself so he didn't splash tea all over you.

"enough of that, sir. i just want you, only you. no one else could be my husband." you held his face.

"mmm, you spoil me." he said with a heavy amount of love in his tone, "i'm spoiled by my sweet little wife. fuck, you feel so good. you feel like a dream. all mine." usually a man of so little words, he was often mouthy with you in the bedroom, he allowed his love to spill from his lips.

simon loved you and wanted you to know very clearly his feelings towards you. you still drove him mad,he was so lucky to have you by his side. he sipped his morning cup once more and you quickly moved against him.

poor thing he knew that angle might have left you feeling particularly achy as you straddled his waist. you looked like an angel on top of his cock, you took him so well even with the slight aches and pains. the pleasure still was immense.

he finished his cup and put the cup on the nightstand then started to really worked himself against you. both hands on your soft hips and he worked his cock up against your lovely pussy. he filled it perfectly as you continued to move against him.

"my wife."

"my simon."

the title sounded delicious a sit came off your tongue. it sounded perfect. he was yours and yours only. why would he anyone else when he had you? he didn't get many miracles in life, but you were certainly one of them.

"my pretty wife. can't get enough of you. this pretty cunt of your, they don't make them like you. so good for your husband, so well behaved for me. fuck, my love." he groaned as he thrusted up into you.

you clutched onto him, his praise made you turned on in a way that made you see stars when you closed your eyes. simon simply kissed at any inch of skin he could get his lips on. his lips on you made our heart race as you neared climax. it didn't take much longer before you held onto him tightly and finished.

"si!"

"got you, beautiful. always got you." and you believed him because it was the honest truth. he wrapped those strong arms around you as you continued to try and meet his pace post climax. you felt the excitement all over.

simon was in love with you, his beautiful lover. even with the size different and the age gap. he loved the sight of you. you continued to look like heaven on his hefty cock.

"fuck." he kissed you as he moved you against his cock while you were panting from the heat of climax. he held onto you tightly and moved with you. you could feel the inferno in your gut, the same as him. you brought him to climax with a few more strokes of your hips. you sent him over the edge and he spilled himself inside of you.

you both slowed to a stop after he finished. you stayed in his lap with his cock inside of you. he gave you gentle kisses across your heated skin. eventually you were put into bed with simon. he gave your stomach a good pat and smiled at you. he admired you lovingly for a moment and said, "love, didn't make yourself a cup. let's fix that." then leaned in to give you a soft kiss before he got up to get you a morning cup.

you watched him go, stark naked and scarred. his stomach back o display as he left the bedroom. you remained cuddled up in bed at peace. you'd always be there for your husband, and he would always be there for you <3

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seasidefallenangel · 3 months ago

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gimme, gimme, gimme a man

calling bllk boys your husband while you're still dating ft. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

notes: fluff, banter, down bad loverboys, use of "wife" in sae's but gn other than that, part 2 here

༄ isagi: “... i’ll grab a chocolate shake, and my husband’s gonna get the vanilla.”

✣ freezes on the spot and stares at you with wide eyes. him? husband? you wanna marry him? he was hoping you were in the long haul the same way he was, but hearing those words from your mouth made him even giddier than he assumed he’d be. imagine when you two actually get married? he’ll be in the trenches.

⁀➷ “did you mean that?” he asks when the worker closes the window while you wait for your order. you can practically see the tail wagging behind him as he beams at you with those sparkling blue eyes. when you give a nod and a small smile, he has to stop himself from blowing up with excitement. instead, he kisses your forehead and murmurs, “i can’t wait to marry you one day.”

༄ nagi:

“oh, that copy in the corner! my husband’s been looking all over for it.”

✣ eternal soldier in the idgaf war. you can’t even tell if he heard you because his facial expression doesn’t budge in the slightest. he’s still tap-tapping away at his phone while the shop employee grabs the game case and hands it to you. it’s only once you’ve paid and left the store that he finally puts his phone down and rests his head on your shoulder from behind, staring up at you with those big, brown puppy eyes.

⁀➷ “‘husband’”? he asked softly, curious but not displeased. you nod sheepishly, admitting it just sort of came out before you had a chance to think. he hums softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and snuggling into your neck. cute as it is, you’re still very much in public, and he’s not exactly light. when you ask him to get off, his face shifts into a pout and he mumbles, “can’t believe i’m gonna marry someone so mean.” despite his attitude, this’ll be lingering on his mind for awhile.

༄ rin:

“excuse me? my husband wanted to kn-” “boyfriend.”

✣ is having absolutely none of it. he swears his blood pressure has gotten concerningly high since he started dating you and dealing with all your stupid pranks. it seems like he’s annoyed since he immediately interjected, but it’s more the opposite. he knows he wants to marry you, but do you really think he’s worth the trouble? looking that far into the future worries him, but he’d never let you know that. ⁀➷ a pair of lithe fingers squeezes your cheeks after rin pulls you away from the employee with a deadpan expression. he pulls at your cheeks with narrow eyes, asking you, “what the hell was that about? husband? are you stupid or something?” your lower lip juts out as you express to him that you really do want to marry him someday, and just wanted to hear how it sounded coming from your mouth. he knows you’re playing him as you try not to grin, but the confession is rather cute. he lets it slide with an “idiot” under his breath, and you decide not to mention the slight blush on his cheeks and the fact he has your hand in a vice grip as you walk out of the store.

༄ sae:

“oi. my wife asked for a medium. remake it.”

✣ beats you to the punch. he’s always one step ahead in every aspect of your relationship, but this is too much. how on earth did he know that you were gonna call him your husband to see his reaction? well - he didn’t. he just refers to you as his wife internally most of the time, and occasionally when he’s out buying gifts and tells the employee who he’s buying it for. after all, you’ll be his wife one day. might as well start early.

��➷ sae glances down at you, raising an eyebrow at your disgruntled expression. when you bemoan that he “stole your thunder,” he flicks you on the forehead before wrapping an arm around your waist. his lips brush against your ear, making you shiver while he speaks, “you do know that you being my wife also means i’m your husband, dumbass. does it matter who said what?” when you sputter and try to pull out the fact he hasn’t even proposed yet, he tugs you closer, looking irritated that you’d even bring up something so simple. it’s a cold day in hell before anyone else gets the chance, and he informs you as such, saying, “because none of the diamonds i’ve found are big enough,” leaving you speechless while he pretends like nothing happened. you’ll never win against him - ever.

#blue lock x reader #sae itoshi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock headcanons #fluff #headcanons #bllk x reader

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mocchiixxx · 3 months ago

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Center of Attention

Seungcheol x Reader | Fluff, Jealous & Pouty Cheol, Playful SEVENTEEN

You peeked into the practice room, excitement bubbling inside you as you spotted SEVENTEEN hard at work. The boys were dancing in perfect synchronization, sweat glistening on their skin as the music filled the space.

Your eyes immediately found Seungcheol at the center, leading the group with his usual commanding presence. Even exhausted, he moved with precision and power, his focus unshakable—until his gaze flickered toward the door and landed on you.

For a moment, he faltered, his steps slightly offbeat. Then, a slow, boyish grin spread across his face as he straightened up, clearly pleased by your unexpected visit.

But before he could make his way to you, someone beat him to it.

"Y/N!" Seungkwan shouted, dramatically throwing himself into your arms. "Oh my gosh, you’re here! You finally came to see me!"

You laughed, patting his back. "I came to see all of you, of course!"

"Hah! See that, hyung?" Mingyu teased, draping an arm over your shoulder. "She came for all of us, not just you."

"Y/N, do you want to see our new choreography?" Hoshi piped up, eyes gleaming with excitement. "I swear it's gonna blow your mind!"

"Oh, oh! Sit here, next to me!" Dino tugged at your wrist, leading you toward the mirrors. "We need a fresh opinion!"

You giggled as the members pulled you into their chaos, talking over one another as they eagerly showed you moves, funny stories, and behind-the-scenes antics.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol stood frozen in the middle of the room, arms crossed, lips pressed into a pout.

Not. Happy. At. All.

He watched as his significant other was swept away by the other members, completely ignoring him. Him! Their leader! The one who was supposed to be getting all your attention right now!

Minghao, passing by, smirked. "You look like a sulky puppy, hyung."

"I'm not sulking," Seungcheol muttered, brows furrowing deeper.

"You totally are," Woozi added, barely hiding his grin.

Seungcheol huffed, hands on his hips. He'd had enough.

With slow, deliberate steps, he made his way toward you, towering over where you sat between the younger members. You barely had time to react before he effortlessly scooped you up—lifting you into his arms like you weighed nothing.

"Cheol!" You yelped, clutching onto him.

"Excuse us," he said firmly, shooting a pointed glare at the members. "I need my girlfriend back."

A chorus of laughter erupted around the room as the members teased and whistled, but Seungcheol ignored them, walking away with you securely in his arms. He carried you to the far corner of the practice room, finally setting you down—but not letting go.

"You barely looked at me," he accused, voice low and sulky.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh at his adorable pout. "You were busy, so I didn’t want to distract you."

"I'm always okay with you distracting me," he grumbled, arms wrapping snugly around your waist. "I missed you."

You smiled, reaching up to smooth his damp hair. "I missed you too, Cheol."

His pout deepened. "Then prove it."

You chuckled before pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. He hummed in satisfaction, pulling you closer, as if to make up for the lost time.

From across the room, Jeonghan shouted, "YAH! WE'RE STILL HERE, YOU KNOW!"

But Seungcheol ignored them all, completely lost in you. Because as far as he was concerned, you were his priority—and finally, he was yours again.

#svt #svt imagines #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #scoups #seventeen #jelous #svt fluff #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seventeen seungcheol

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saintrosalyn · 6 months ago

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BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths.

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep.

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him.

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room.

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself.

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine.

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge.

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift.

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside.

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you.

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst.

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate.

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels.

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver.

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence.

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him.

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in).

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone.

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again.

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong.

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.”

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments.

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head.

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall.

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach.

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon is such a meanie #He's gonna give reader an ulcer fr

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 2 months ago

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──── FIRST KISSES, SECOND CHANCES . ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka he's this close to passing out because you're way too pretty and he wants to kiss you so bad—but he's an idiot, a loser in love, and totally losing his mind over you.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ wc. 985 ⌗ fluff, kisskiss, jake is this close to going insane, mentions of jake wanting to die but not literally─poor guy is just losing his mind over y/n

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── omg tytyty everyone for the love with this series so far !!! i actually love jakeyn so much im so invested in this in ways that are highkey unhealthy...ANYWAYS! one of jake & yn's many firsts! writing this actually made me cheese so hard god im so single pls. jake is also like borderline unwell HAHA

It’s the kind of day where life feels like it’s straight out of a movie.

Soft sunlight, the perfect temperature, a gentle breeze, birds chirping.

Perfect.

And yet—Jake wants to shrivel up into a hole and die.

The two of you are just lying there, propped up on your sides across from one another on the plush picnic blanket, an array of snacks and sandwiches (that Jake definitely didn’t wake up at 7AM to buy from the corner bakery you like so much in fear they would sell out before he had the chance to get them) scattered between you two, and you’re laughing at something he said—and god, he doesn’t even remember what he said—when it hits him.

And oh my god, it hits him hard.

He can’t think straight anymore.

Your eyes are sparkling like they always do when you laugh, your face is glowing with that effortless smile that makes him want to explode.

The way your hair blows slightly in the wind—how it catches the light in a way that makes him swear the sun only shines to make you glow. How your laugh just does something to him that makes it feel like the whole world stopped just so he could hear it.

And it’s all too much.

Jake feels his heart rate spike, his chest tighten, and before he knows it, he’s staring at your lips—just your lips—and your words are starting to sound like mush.

God, he wants to kiss you.

Like, really kiss you.

And the thought alone makes him feel like his heart’s about to break through his ribcage and find its way out of his chest.

But then, of course—the voice of reason pops in.

The same, annoying, one that always shows up right when he lets himself want this too much. The same one that fights him in this very, very common battle…almost daily.

Is this even a good idea? What if you’re not ready? What if it’s just too much, too soon for you?

What if he completely ruins everything before he even gets the chance to have it?

“Hey.”

Jake jolts out of his thoughts. You’re staring at him now, an amused smile playing at your lips as you nudge his arm.

“You okay?”

Jake blinks.

Forces his eyes back to your own (not her lips, Jake, not her lips, NOT HER LIPS).

Then, he clears his throat, shifting slightly as he tries his best to act normal.

“Yeah. Yeah, um, just—,” he places his sandwich down, his hands shaking slightly—god, Jake, “Just…still a little hungry.”

A beat of silence.

He immediately mentally smacks himself because, what the hell, Jake?

You raise an eyebrow.

“Jake, you literally just had a sandwich in your hands.”

“…Right, yeah. Right.”

Another beat.

Then—

You giggle.

Soft. Breathless. Perfect.

And Jake?

It ruins him.

He wants to jump off a cliff.

His heart is hammering, his vision is starting to go a little fuzzy, and he’s pretty sure he’s a solid two business seconds away from either a) passing out, or b) spontaneously combusting—whichever comes first.

He can’t focus. He can't think. He just—

He needs to kiss you.

Like, right now. Like, he literally cannot hold it together anymore.

So, without thinking—without giving himself any more time to overthink it—he leans in. Just slightly.

Your eyes widen, his breath catches, because—you’re so close and he swears you can probably hear his heart beating.

He smells your shampoo, his palms are sweating, and he’s definitely about to pass out, but all he can do is stare at your lips, then at your eyes. Then back at your lips again.

Jake doesn’t even think. He doesn’t even say anything. He just does it.

His lips press softly against yours—so gently at first that it’s barely there, as if he’s testing the waters, as if he’s expecting you to pull away.

But you don’t.

You don’t pull away.

And his heart explodes.

It’s instant. Everything falls into place in that very moment, every ounce of tension in his body immediately melts away.

Jake can’t help but sigh into the kiss, finally allowing himself to give in completely, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, holding you as if you’re something delicate—something so beautiful he could never dream of ruining.

And then you do something that completely, utterly, wrecks him—

You kiss him back.

Softly, almost shyly at first, like you’re just as overwhelmed as he is. But then—oh god—

Your hand goes up and your fingers curl into his collar, tugging ever so slightly, pulling him in even deeper, and Jake 100% knows he never wants to go back to what life was like before this moment.

He’s dizzy. Weightless. Completely and entirely yours in every possible way.

He also forgets how to breathe.

But that doesn’t matter.

Nothing else in the world matters except this kiss, except you.

Jake feels himself smiling into it—because, oh god, this is actually happening—and hears you giggle slightly as you finally pull away, a little breathless.

He’s starstruck, paralyzed. He’s still staring at your lips in disbelief, then back to your eyes, then back at your lips before blinking himself back to reality.

“That was—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“That was way too long coming, don’t you think?” you tease, your eyes sparkling, lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he grins, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “But don’t worry. I’ll make up for lost time.”

You roll your eyes, but—there’s something about the way you look at him that makes him feel like the luckiest guy on the planet.

“I’m holding you to that, Jakey.”

And then—

You tilt your head up and press another soft, fleeting kiss to his lips before pulling back with the softest smile.

Yup.

He’s definitely the luckiest guy on the planet.

<< past || no doubt m. list || next >>

tag list! (open ! // bolded couldn't be added!)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie

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peepkiin · 1 month ago

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natalie scatorccio x bitchy fem!cheerleader!reader (smut)

synopsis: you and nat absolutely *despise* each other - constantly at each other's throats. but what happens when you both end up in a party bathroom together?

a/n: this is my first fic... like, ever - so if this is trash i'm sorryyyyy LMAOO.

wc: 1.8k

WARNINGS (pls do not read if any of these make you uncomfy!): internalized homophobia (had to do it to 'em), slurs (d*ke), fingering, drinking, rough sex, orgasm denial... i think that's it. lowercase intended! xx

you hate natalie’s guts.

it’s ironic - the cheerleader hating the burnout to the core. but she is the most infuriating, blood-boiling, irking, hottest…

wait. what?

ignore that. that’s besides the point. you hate her.

and for natalie? oh… it’s mutual.

you and your airy, condescending laugh, your cheer routines perfected to the stance, one-size-too-small cheer uniform… makes her scowl. makes her bones itch. and her body heat up.

it’s been that way for as long as literally anyone could remember. jabs from either one of you, spewed in scathing venom - not once holding back the low blows, spreading rumors, and hastily scrawled permanent marker slander on bathroom stalls and underneath bleachers. how quaint.

but for each of you, there are feelings. deeply seeded, strongly kept secret feelings that both of you hold. it’s wrong – so, so wrong. but you can’t help it. the way her messy bleached hair sits on her shoulders, the messy and smudged eye makeup, her voice, her-

okaaayyyy. your mind’s going way too far. stop. she’s a girl. you can’t like her. you can’t like a girl. you have to have a boyfriend, and live the perfect, quarterback’s girl life. and natalie doesn’t fit that.

but why does your heart yearn for her? why do your ears strain to hear her voice? why do your eyes wander, hoping to see her in the hallways or even out in public? why do you eagerly volunteer to cheer for her soccer games? you’d go for her, if she wasn’t a her.

cut to tonight, some shitty party at a classmate’s house after exams. you begrudgingly went with your cheer sisters, after they begged you to go - claiming you needed to let loose and forget. if only they knew, the heart palpitations you got, the most UNloose feeling ever - when you saw natalie.

she was with her other burnout friends, in the corner, nursing a solo cup of god only knows what. laughing, talking - in her stupid leather jacket, and stupid blonde hair, and stupid pretty face…

oh, girl. you need a fucking drink. and drink, you do.

you down shots, mixed drinks, beers… whatever you can get your hands on. intoxication riddles your blood, making everything spin and definitely loosening you up. you dance with your friends, talk, laugh – unaware of the eyes across the room, lingering on your figure.

natalie saw you when you walked in. of course she did, you were wearing next-to-nothing with your friends, hair and makeup done to perfection (like always, with you. it pisses her off). she watched you drink, dance, stumble to the bathroom giggling with your friends… scoffing and muttering shit talk to her friends about you. but in her mind? her heart? her body? she craves you. your soft touches, your kiss, your body against hers, her name falling softly from your mouth.

oh. my. god. now she needs a drink.

she branches from her friends, going to the kitchen. she weasels through heated, sweaty bodies to get a drink. she pours more alcohol in her cup, pour some mixer in. she turns to go walk back to her friends, taking a deep breath to steel herself-

shit.

a cold feeling courses through nat’s body as she bumps into someone, consequently spilling a drink all over nat’s front. and… it’s you.

your body freezes when you realize you just spilled your drink on someone, immediately sobering you up. apologies leave your mouth quickly, like a flurry before you even look up to see who it is.

“what the fuck, dude?”

is what you can hear, that rasp - when you look up, it’s natalie. your apologies stop immediately, turning into a scoff.

“oh… it’s you. never mind. totally not sorry now.” you snark, giggling in that stupid, airy tone.

natalie laughs incredulously and rolls her eyes, shoving your shoulder. “what the fuck is your problem, bitch?”

“‘bitch”?! really?! at least i’m not some burnout, trashy fucking dyke-” you sneer, but you can’t even finish, before she’s yanking your arm, dragging you away.

“you callin’ me a dyke? i’ll show you a goddamn dyke. you need to clean up your mess.”

protests leave your mouth, trying to squirm out of her grasp, but she’s pretty strong - contrary to her scrawnier build. she drags you up the stairs and into a cramped bathroom. she shoves you up against the door, shrugging off her leather jacket and taking off the shirt that you spilled your drink on.

your eyes widen, roaming over her body, now just in her black jeans and red bra. you can’t help it, you could only dream of seeing her shirtless - in your fantasies wrapped in the comfort of your bed and dominant hand. she notices, laughing mockingly.

“oh, and i’m the dyke? you’re literally eyefucking me right now.”

before you could even spit a harsh comeback, her lips are on yours. you can’t help but kiss back immediately, all “hatred” leaving your mind and being overtaken by the desire you’d been holding back for months. the kiss is hungry, desperate - sloppily bitten lips and tongue all throughout. your hands rest on her nape, while hers grip at your waist and hips, all but tugging you closer as you both consume each other’s mouths.

as the makeout transpires, clothes get shed from you - leaving you in your bra and panties. natalie moves you to the bathroom counter without breaking the kiss, pulling you up and onto it.

at this point, you’re whining into her mouth, clawing needily at her shoulders to get her closer, and closer, and-

suddenly, her lips are off yours, and you’re being spun around, face pressed against the mirror, body still on the counter. nat pants softly in your ear to catch her breath, gripping your hair to keep your face there.

“look at you, right now. look at what a dyke can do to you. tough talk from a girl who seems to love it.” natalie murmurs, laughing.

you can’t even bring yourself to be mad, whining instead at her mocking words, your panties soaked worse than they’ve ever been before. all from her. you whisper shakily, full of need, “nat. please. touch me…”

natalie laughs, again, shaking her head, “now she’s begging. how pathetic do you cheerleaders get, huh? your boy toys don’t do this?”

you shake your head no fervently, just trying to get her in your pants - obviously. “n-no, no-”

“shut up. god, do you seriously ever shut up?” natalie says harshly, cutting you off. she pushes your face closer to the mirror, “if you stop fucking talking, maybe i’ll fuck you.”

you quiet immediately, which makes nat laugh, muttering something about “pathetic whore”. next thing you know, her hand is on your center, running along the slit and feeling the dampness burdening the lacy fabric.

“hoooly shit, you’re soaked,” nat whispers, breathless with awe.

you flush with embarrassment, already knowing how desperate you are and look. but all the same, you move your hips on her fingers, whining needily. in response, she takes her hand away, swatting your inner thigh. “stop fuckin’ moving, or i’ll stop touching you.”

your hips still, a huff leaving your mouth. “you’re taking forever. do you really still have to be so goddamn annoying?”

natalie scoffs, and immediately sinks two fingers into you, shoving your panties to the side. you gasp and moan, eyes fluttering and jaw dropping in pleasure. nat smirks, “looks like that shut you up pretty damn good.”

the pace she has is brutal, fingers moving quick and hard - right into your g spot with every motion in. your eyes blur with tears of pure pleasure, mirror fogged up from each panted breath. your moans echo throughout the room, loud and full of obvious pleasure. nat relishes in this, how she can finally have you the way she’s always wanted to. she pulls your head back, kissing and sucking hickies onto your neck that will definitely be there tomorrow.

“nat, nat- slow down, m’gonna c-”

“no you’re not. you don’t get to. y’know how much i fucking hate you?” natalie sneers, as she adds a third finger, relentlessly pounding your cunt, “you piss me off so much. worse than anyone ever has.”

through moans and gasps, you manage a laugh, “is that why you’re fucking me?”

natalie laughs too, shaking her head, “you never shut up, huh?”

you shake your head no, moaning as she angles her fingers deeper, making your eyes roll back. that familiar band in your lower abdomen is taut, about to snap. your juices make obscene noises, echoing on the tiled floors and walls of the bathroom. you can’t take it anymore. “nat, please let me cum. please-”

“admit that you’re just as much of a dyke as i am, then.” natalie pants in your ear, a mocking smile on her lips.

you hesitate, of course you do. you can’t like girls, you can’t. but… this feels right, oddly enough. being fucked in a party bathroom, by the girl you’re supposed to hate. the guilt will come later, you know that. but right now? nat’s knuckle deep in your cunt, and you can’t think of anything better.

“i-i like girls,” you whisper, biting your lip to not moan.

“hm? what was that?” natalie taunts, speeding up her fingers - which you didn’t even think was possible.

you moan, losing all hesitance as soon as it started. “i-i like girls. i like you, i-”

natalie hums, adding a fourth finger, and her thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles. “good that you stopped lying to yourself. you can cum.”

moaned and breathless “thank you”s leave your mouth as quickly as she says it. you cry out as your orgasm wracks through your body, making you tremble, and eyes roll back so hard you’d think they’re stuck. natalie marvels at this sight, slowing down to work you through it as you soak her front with the force of your release.

nat finally takes her fingers out once your loud moans are now whimpers, washing her hands in the sink. you pant heavily, slumped over on the counter, body so weak and tired from the sheer force of the sex you just had. natalie looks over, raising an eyebrow, “you good?”

you nod, standing up on shaky legs, holding onto the counter for respite, “yeah… yeah. i’m great.”

natalie hums, gently brushing the hair out of your face. she looks at you, really looks at you, a small smile quirking at her lips. “you’re so pretty.”

you smile softly back, a faint blush creeping onto your cheeks despite your already flushed state. “thanks.. uh, you are too.”

nat laughs, kissing your lips chastely once more. she helps you clean yourself up, and put your clothes back on. “need a ride home?”

“mhm,” you nod, leaning on her shoulder for stability. your legs tremble still, which she silently revels in.

“alright. let’s get your pretty ass out of here.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

–

ending a/n: haiiiii :3 um so this is my first fic ever (like i said before, clem stfu)!! pls lmk how you feel about it! is it trash? is it gas? IDKKKK AAAAHHHHHH tysm for reading and ily xoxox

#natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio x reader smut #yellowjackets smut #natalie scatorccio smut

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lecl1ercswif7ie · 22 days ago

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I Care Buck

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader ! The New Avengers x Reader

Summary: After your first mission you tell Bucky to blowout his hair with your Dyson - The rest of The Avengers are shocked he doesn't oppose.

Author's Note: This is my first fic, i'm sorry if it's a bit weird, english is not my first languange and i'm kind of nervous of writing here 🙈 Enjoy the fic!!

Mission complete.

If you could call “barely surviving a shootout, a crumbling building, and Walker setting off the wrong grenade” a mission success. Still, somehow, no one was dead. That was a win for the New Avengers.

Back at HQ, the vibe was what you’d expect from a barely-functional team of chaos gremlins.

Ava and John were already at it again, arguing over tactical choices like they hadn’t just spent the last six hours screaming into comms.

“I’m telling you,” John said, arms waving, “you rushed the flank too early!”

Ava raised her eyebrows and bit out, “I rushed the flank because you set off the charge early, you toddler in a bulletproof vest!”

“Idiots,” Yelena muttered, flopping on the worn-out couch and covering her eyes with her arm, “please shut up. Some of us are trying to disassociate in peace.”

Bob sat nearby, legs crossed, calmly reading a thick novel. He was somehow the calmest man in the building — maybe in the world. “Let them bicker,” he murmured, not looking up. “It’s almost rhythmic now. Like jazz.”

You snorted from your corner. Bucky was standing silently nearby, arms crossed, leaning against the far wall like he didn’t want to admit he was tired. His dark hair was tousled, sticking out from where it had been flattened by his mask and ruffled by wind and debris. He looked… adorable.

But he also looked like he’d walked through a wind tunnel.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling and walked over, Dyson Supersonic in hand.

“Okay, soldier,” you said, pointing to the stool near the table. “Sit.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Your hair,” you said. “It looks like a bird tried to nest in it. I’m fixing it.”

“You’re gonna use… that thing?” he said warily, eyeing the Dyson like it might explode.

You grinned. “Relax. You’ve fought alien warlords. You can survive a blow dryer.”

A snort escaped him. And then — miraculously — he sat. You plugged the Dyson in, brushed your fingers through his damp hair, and got to work.

—

About five minutes in, Bob looked up from his book and said, “He’s letting her do his hair. It’s happening.”

Yelena didn’t even open her eyes. “What’s happening?”

“The slow-burn,” Bob replied, turning the page. “They’re finally getting there.”

Alexei popped his head in from the kitchen. “What are we betting? I say they kiss before next mission.”

“No way,” Ava said, arms crossed. “Barnes is emotionally repressed and Y/N’s too polite.”

John laughed. “$10 says it happens by the end of the week.”

“$20,” Bob added, “if they don’t even notice they’re basically dating already.”

You ignored them all. Mostly. Your fingers were threading through Bucky’s hair, drying and smoothing it as you guided the Dyson gently. He looked… relaxed. Kind of. Except when his metal hand kept twitching every time you got a little too close to his ear.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

He grunted, “Yeah. Just… not used to people touching me like this.”

“Like how?”

“Like they care.”

You looked at him, your hand still in his hair. “I care, Buck.”

His eyes met yours then — and you swore your heart skipped.

From the couch, Yelena groaned loudly. “Oh my god, would you two just kiss already?!”

You flushed. Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “I feel like a stray puppy right now.”

“Yeah, well,” you smirked, “you’re a cute one.”

—

Later that night, the HQ was quieter. Ava and John had gone off somewhere to probably yell at each other in private. Yelena was asleep on the couch, Bob was still reading, and Alexei was snoring in the recliner.

You were in the bathroom with Bucky, showing him how to use the Dyson properly. He watched you with that same intense stare he always had — like he was memorizing everything.

“Okay, see the cool shot button?” you explained. “Locks the style in place.”

He pressed it. A little too hard. The blast of cold air surprised him and he jumped slightly.

You giggled. “Scary, huh?”

“Not scared,” he grumbled. “Just… surprised.”

“Mmhm.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then: “Thanks for doing this.”

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Anytime.”

His hand caught yours as you went to pull away — metal fingers warm from the dryer, his grip gentle but steady.

“You know,” he said, eyes locked on yours, “I don’t let just anyone near my hair.”

Your breath hitched. “Good thing I’m not just anyone, then.”

There was a beat.

You both leaned in slightly—

And from the hallway: “If you’re not kissing, then at least make popcorn!” Alexei yelled. “Some of us are invested in the subplot!”

You and Bucky broke apart, laughing quietly.

“Stray puppy, huh?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his lips.

“Only if you’re the one taking me home.”

kinda nervous to post this haha, i tried my best okay? but i think i made justice to the whole new team with unstable people trying to live togethere

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jaegerbby · 1 month ago

Text

➳ toji fushiguro x female! reader

why toji doesn't fuck virgins:

╰┈➤ word count; 1916

╰┈➤ caution; this is super self-indulgent, older! bf! toji (30s & 20s), mentions of virginity loss, yn has no experience kissing, blow job, use of the term 'prissy bitch,' facial, oral fixation (cum eating & finger sucking), mentions of a size difference, toji wears skinny jeans, yn calls toji 'old man,' yn has small boobs.

toji is older now.

he swears he has lived 20 different lives but he was never the type to fuck virgins or seek out younger women.

he finds them too immature, too clingy, too overbearing.

you turn out to be the only exception.

toji notices how pretty you are when you are laughing with your friends at the bar, it is the greatest sound to ever grace his ears.

he moves closer and he realises your beauty is beyond compare.

he can tell that you are not his age. no where near it. though something about you demands his attention, he concedes because his gaze never wanders from every perfect feature on your gorgeous face.

oh, do not think he has not noticed your banging body. how could he ever ignore it when your clothing clings to you like a second skin?

toji tells himself, he will keep things light. a little fling never hurt anyone.

he surely looks sleazy approaching you no matter how attractive he is. you can visibly see how much older he is by the greys scattered amongst strands of jet black. he has fine lines on his otherwise clear skin.

"what's your name, doll?" you look a little shaken by the depth of his voice. he pursues his lips when your friends start giggling and playfully nudging you but your eyes are on his face and on his body and the longer your stare at him the more interest you are.

he looks big in far too many ways, his hands look like only one is enough to engulf your throat entirely. his shoulders and back are broad but they taper into a narrow waist, his sleeves are straining against his biceps and usually you would hate skinny jeans on a man but here toji is with his thick muscular thighs completely outlined by the material.

a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips when your hand comes up to fan your face. he already knows your name because your friends are screeching it like a group of seagulls.

"yn, pretty name for a prettier woman." he speaks lowly, you are a bit off put by the pick up line cause ... why is it so lame?

it does not matter! it only takes 10 minutes of his sweet talk and you find yourself in his car with his tongue down your throat.

well, the minute you sat in his car toji covered your mouth with his. his lips are soft and you can feel the scar as he kisses you.

truthfully, you suck at this. your teeth are hitting his and sometimes scraping his tongue. you are going too fast and being too aggressive.

it still feels good though, he moans into your mouth but you do not make a sound.

you might be terrible at it but toji does not mind the sloppy make out session.

he pulls away, his cock already aching in his jeans, his hand grips your throat a little tighter. "you're so sexy." his voice is husky, it does not sound like his normal tone in the slightest.

you blink and toji is too caught up in the proximity of your pretty face that he flinches when you laugh.

you laugh, a hand reaching up to muffle the sound.

"what's up?" he asks after a second.

"nothing." your body shakes with giggles. "it was just funny."

he is a little baffled if he is honest. he never got that reaction before but you lean in and kiss him again. his hands grow more greedy, gliding between your legs and under your clothing. squeezing your breasts and stroking your sides.

that is as far as it goes. toji gets to slip his wet tongue into your mouth and touch you a little before you say you are going back to your friends.

he should let you go.

he should pretend the awkward encounter never happened. but he asks for your number. he messages you that same night.

you go on one date and you have toji hook line and sinker.

toji takes all of your firsts.

your first kiss, your first date.

your first time, when you asked him "do you think they're small?" as you grope your boobs. here you are lying beneath him looking like an angel that is too good for him and asking him that as if he has not lavished your pretty titties and buried his head between your legs to drink every drop leaking from your syrupy cunt.

"y'know i love your titties, doll."

"but they're not that big." you quip with a pout on your kiss swollen lips.

"doesn't matter, you're hot."

you are grinning like an idiot when his cock finally breaches your pussy.

the first time you suck his dick feels unreal, your throat is tight and you keep drooling, so much slick spit drenches his cock and stains your jaw.

"so fucking messy, baby." he groans, his hand coaxing over the back of your head and though he has half a mind to push your head down until his cock is seated far too deep in your virgin throat. he refrains.

"what the fuck? i told you no fucking teeth." he yelps as your teeth scrape along the underside of his heady cock. you have this mammoth of a man yelping. he would feel bad for how hard he is gripping your hair but he swears you are laughing even with his dick lodged in your mouth.

toji is appeased by your slow, inexperienced bobs as you swallow his cock over and over again. he forgets ever being mad at you when he is wrapped up in your throat that squeezes him so sweetly.

he enjoys your lips stretched around his base, your nose nuzzling short hairs and tears leaking from your pretty eyes.

your mouth is so hot and warm and you look so fucking gorgeous when you are sucking dick.

he has your lips coated in pre but he needs to see more.

he needs more than this.

he is pulling you off his cock, moaning obscenely at the sight of your hanging jaw, spit webbed in your mouth and strands netted to his length.

he jerks a rough hand around his thick cock a few times before he is spurting ropes of cum all over your face. you receive no warning but your eyes tightly shut when heated milky liquid coats your cheeks.

toji swears he can feel himself growing hard again at the sight.

"fuck, you look perfect like thi-.."

"ew, ew, ew! oh my-... it's so gross!!" you shriek. hands frantically swiping away at sticky cum.

oh, you prissy little bitch.

times like this toji realises why he does not go for virgins.

yet, you are his girlfriend.

his pretty, young girlfriend.

you are the reason everyone envies him. sure, on a daily basis you call him 'old man' as if toji was some weirdo that could not help but chase you (that's literally what he was though!!) and it irritates him to no end.

"i'm surprised you lasted that long, old man."

"as soon as it's 9 you'll fall asleep, old man."

"missed you so much, old man."

in your whiny little voice.

you will be in his arms and toji feels content but then you call him that and he will not hug you for the rest of the night. he will ignore even apology and every plead and every time you shake his unmoving body. you are left with his back facing you as he sleeps.

but toji likes the way your little body presses to his back and you tightly wrap your arms around him in a way that he swears no one could possibly pry you away from him.

you call him old man but you also call toji babe.

he likes nothing better than his younger girlfriend calling him babe when he picks you up from work or when you crawl into his lap as he is watching the sports channel.

he likes how you hold his hand and swing it when you both go out on a date, rambling about any and everything and toji is keeping count of the amount of times babe falls from your pretty lips.

you call him babe whenever you want something too.

"babe." your voice is soft, he can tell from here that you are speaking through pouted lips. he walks over to the couch, your head hanging off the edge and your feet propped on the back.

"told you to stop doing that." he sits beside you and almost immediately you clamber into his lap. your face nuzzling his neck and your legs on either side of him.

you whine when big, strong arms wrap around you and toji squeezes you a little. he always does that.

"what's got you so clingy today?" his hands slowly trail up and down your back as he inhales your scent.

when toji does not get a response, his lips part to ask again.

"ow!" he jolts at the sudden sting of pain. you bit him. your teeth dug down into the side of his neck and it hurt.

he pulls you back by your nape. "what is your problem?" his fingers pinch your cheek so tight you are batting at his hand but he does not relent.

he can see sharp teeth, you are like a puppy that considers him your chew toy.

"s'your fault, babe. you look super handsome right now! all the time actually." you shift on his lap, your cunt dragging along the bulge that is pressing right against you.

since being with toji, you have developed a nasty little oral fixation.

you are genuinely like a teething puppy.

toji has had to brush off too many questions about the marks you left on his biceps, his forearms, his shoulders, his neck.

this man has not known peace with you around (he would not have it any other way).

"no, you just always need something in this mouth." he sneers but there is no genuine anger behind it. not when two fingers fill your mouth and you suck almost instinctively.

you are slumping against him a second later, your drool dripping down his arm and soaking his clothes but he does not really care. you are sucking on his fingers until they start pruning up.

sometimes, that is all it takes but others times that is not enough to satiate you.

sometimes, you need to take toji's cock deep in your throat so you can suck until you are satisfied.

it is torture.

truthfully, he does not know why he indulges you so much when all it does is leave his cock achy and twitchy and far too overstimulated.

you would much rather swallow every drop of his cum than have it on your face, it does not take long for him to realise that.

when you are not sucking his cock, or his fingers or leaving teethy marks across the muscular planes of his body you are in toji's ear saying "i love you so much, babe." and toji is saying it back before the last syllable leaves your lips.

they say virgins are clingy but there is no one as clingy as toji when it comes to you.

while he does not usually go for virgins. you have more than stolen his heart and he is happily obliged to let you keep it hostage forever.

can't believe i've never written anything 4 toji b4

actually need him in a way that is concerning to feminism

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ddejavvu · 9 months ago

Note

Tyler Owens x Shy!Reader giving each other a good luck kiss before a tornado chase🩵🌪️

Spotlight - Tyler Owens x Reader

come participate in tyler owens night !

You're relieved that Tyler won't be gone for days, crossing state lines to chase this twister, but that comes with a downside: it's local. That means that, though the tornado's path isn't projected near your home, you're still on high-alert as anxiety convinces you that something will change and your house will be torn down plank by plank and blown away into oblivion.

"I'll be back for dinner," Tyler vows, grinning at you with the thrill of the chase already gleaming in his eyes and smile, "You just sit pretty 'til I'm back, darlin', and we can go out tonight. Get somethin' real nice, then we can go dancin' afterwards. In our own little corner, I promise." He tugs you close, miming how things will go only hours from now, knowing your tendency to be shy in large crowds.

The roaring of tires on gravel lets you know that Tyler's crew has arrived, and you've mostly conquered your nerves surrounding them. They're lovely people, if only a little intense, but you still feel sometimes like a complete outsider. Still, you wave sweetly to them, and a chorus of greetings floats your way over the open Arkansas air.

"Alright," Tyler pats once, twice against your hip, "That's my cue. If I don't get goin' soon, Boone's gonna start throwing shit at me."

"I'll protect you," You shrug, drinking in the last of his embrace- logically, the last of it for only a few hours. Irrationally- the last of it you might ever get. You shake away a shuddery feeling in your chest as Tyler laughs at your joke, squeezing you tighter around the waist.

"That's right, you're my little protector, aren't you? 'Gonna get those big ol' muscles out and show 'em all who's boss?"

Flexing your biceps does absolutely nothing to show them off like it does when Tyler does it, and you can feel the fondness in his ear-to-ear grin.

"Alright, darlin'." He lets go of your waist and suddenly the handprints on your sides are cold, terribly so, as a mild wind blows through your front yard, "Stay safe in here, m'kay? The storm's projected to go east but you know the drill; keep weather alerts on and hole up in the cellar if anything changes. Love you," He squeezes your hand in lieu of a kiss, something you're decidedly uncomfortable with in public, but when he turns to walk away, you act on impulse and grab his wrist.

"Ty-" You gasp, almost as shocked at your actions as he is when he turns to raise a questioning brow at you.

"Hm?"

"Uh- I," You stammer, his eyes like spotlights showcasing your awkward stance before you realize that words are failing, and the only thing you can do is kiss him.

You surge forwards, tugging him along to meet you in the middle as you lean up to press your lips to his. He's surprised if the way that his eyes go wide is any indication, and you feel like you're stealing his breath when his chest tightens up. It takes him barely a second to melt into it, but it's a second that feels like an eternity as your brain and heart race in tandem.

There's cheering, whooping, shouting, and a slew of other reactions from his crew that you'll lay awake embarrassed about later tonight, but for now you kiss Tyler Owens like it's the last time you'll see him- because it might be.

The words, 'Good luck,' are whispered softly against his lips when you part from them, and his eyes are hazy before he blinks away the cloudy daze he's trapped in. He stares down at you, equal parts bewildered and head-over-heels, and his grin is less cocky, more sappy now as he watches you.

"That was one hell of a kiss," He remarks, smoothing his tongue between the seam of his lips and catching your chapstick, "I don't even think I wanna go out now. Tornado be damned, the real fun's right here."

"Go," You push against his chest, and your laughter comes easy despite having just stepped so far out of your comfort zone, "Go and be back for dinner and dancing!"

"Yes ma'am!" Tyler calls, walking backwards towards his own truck as his crew splits in half to fill both vehicles equally, "I love you!"

He says it like it's an inside joke, like it's something he's informing you of for the first time instead of something you'd just pressed against his mouth.

You grin back, lazy and sure even amongst the watchful eyes of his crew, "I love you too, Ty."

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens x you #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens blurb #tyler owens drabble #glen powell x reader #twisters fanfiction #tyler owens smut

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grandisknight · 8 months ago

Text

afternoon treatment | zayne

summary: Zayne follows the "doctor's orders" in order to feel better.

tags: suggestive, established relationship, gn!reader (no specific descriptors), soft zayne, medical kink, 'doctor' kink, kissing, medical procedures (auscultation), medical inaccuracies (in a sense), chest mention, straddling

wc: 2.2k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: relax time affinity 80 with zayne and that one liner he has. that's it, that's the tweet.

Afternoons at Akso Hospital were always the busiest, from routine check-ups to meetings alike. Staff and accompanying patients hustled through the halls and hushed rooms—there was always something happening, and the cardiac surgery department was no different.

Yet, today seemed to offer Zayne some grace and time to reside in the chilled comforts of his workspace. The morning surgery went well, and his next procedure wouldn’t be for another hour or two.

Therefore, he’s rewarded himself with a simple diagnosis report. The file was lighter in subject, easier to digest in comparison to what was usually on his plate. In his mind, this was a well-fitted solution to kill some time before returning to sterile scrubs and tense operating rooms.

Glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he looks over their exterior when a soft series of familiar knocks reach his door.

“It’s open,” he calls out, rectangular reflection returning to the onscreen data. Without missing a beat and sparing another glance, he adds on, “Weren’t you supposed to visit a No-Hunt Zone today?”

“Finished my observations earlier than expected,” you chirped, pushing the door to a close and striding towards his busy desk.

Recent reports of Metaflux fluctuations had consumed your bright morning with Herte Knaves running amok. Nothing out of the ordinary from your usual line of work, easily dealt with in a couple of bulleted blows. Their dispersing remains flecked the air in a quiet flurry that reminded you of snowflakes—naturally, your feet led you to the pristine floors of Akso soon thereafter.

Curiously, you sidestep to shadow his focused form, gaze altering between the wall of text and precise clicks of his keys. “Thought you were on break, but it seems like you’re working,” you mumble, in awe of his steady pace. “As always, Dr. Zayne.”

He speaks with an obvious, “Well, I am at work. The call is coming from inside the house.”

“Zayne,” you punctuate. His sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, and you cross your arms in turn. “You know what I mean.”

A faint chuckle passes under his breath. “You’re accusing me as if I’m in the wrong.”

He was not, actually—far from it. That goes without saying when you were in the middle of his office, imposing during said work time. But you’ve been in his graces for nearly a year now, and know well enough that it was only around this time in the afternoons would he be able to catch a breather.

You shake your head, putting on your best voice before coming to your defense. “No, but the doctor’s orders require you to take a break.”

This catches his attention, fingers slowing their clicks and chair swiveling to face you head on. Slight confusion quirks his brow, mirroring your folded arms in observation. “And pray tell, who would that be? Last time I checked, only one of us is a certified surgeon in this room.”

Your eyes instinctively dart to his stationed badge, credentials on full display against his chest pocket. He had you beat there, at the very least.

“You may hold a degree for medical hearts,” you start, taking a step into the space of his parted knees and tapping your chest.

“But I hold the degree to your heart.” Your finger redirects to the meeting point of his neckline, resting above the aforementioned muscle.

“Is that so?” The corners of his lips lift, amused by your display and newfound authority. “I was unaware of such a professional. Surely, I would’ve remembered seeing someone as dedicated as you during my studies.”

He takes the chance to brush away a strand of hair hugging your cheek, neatly tucking it behind your ear. Gentle appreciation fills his comment of, “Would’ve made them much more enjoyable, too.”

“That’s besides the point.” You wave him off, though it doesn’t fan away the heat blushing your ears, sensing his underlying meaning.

Returning to your self-presumed role, you nod. “As your dedicated and completely legitimate doctor, I believe you’re showing concerning symptoms.”

Zayne hums, withdrawing his hand. “I’m afraid your assessment is lost on me. What exactly are these symptoms?”

“Well, my patient seems to love working overtime. This can cause unnecessary stress to the body and mind, for one.”

You lift one knee to bracket his, the other following in suit—Zayne adapts rather quickly, leaning back to give you space as you carefully straddle his waist. His arms naturally circle around you, hands hovering your tailbone to keep you steady.

Neatly settled on top, you continue with your mild lecture of reported observations. “Even though he should be using the precious time in-between work to give himself a well-deserved break, he does the exact opposite.”

“He is on a break,” Zayne says to his defense. “It’s barely considered heavy work.”

“Doing any kind of work during down-time does not count, mister,” you chide.

You gently tussle his bangs, pushing them to the side and revealing his forehead. Smoothing over the skin above his brow, your eyes searched his expression before noting a shadow of fatigue beneath his lashes. He really was working himself to the bone, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“A dire symptom of a workaholic is when his skin is faring worse than usual,” you exaggerate. “Your eye bags are so prominent they could be checked in at the airport.”

“It’s not that bad,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling at your touch. They flutter to a close when your hand slides to cup his face, thumb brushing the high of his cheekbone in gentle care. “The lighting just makes it seem worse for wear. I’m fine.”

“I beg to differ.” You slowly trail downwards, caressing the side of his neck with a pursed lip.

His pulse point thrummed nicely against your fingers, and a curious press elicited a low sigh from him. Unexpected, though the sound was music to your ears and had butterflies rampant in your stomach. A part of you wanted to hear more of the gravelly timbre that rarely made an appearance—you knew what needed to be done.

Picking up where you left off, more of your self-declared medical ramblings followed. “See here? Another symptom, such a fast pace surely isn’t for the faint of heart. Your apical pulse,” to which your fingertips lightly drag themselves towards, “can’t lie to me.”

Zayne is breathless by the time he formulates a response in sincerity. “How can we go about a treatment plan, then? It seems pretty serious.”

A slowed, purposeful pronunciation follows soon thereafter. “Doc-tor.”

Your heart skipped not one, but two beats—dangerous, surely, but it fell short in the face of Zayne’s steadfast compliance. He peers up at you, factually smitten and framed softly by the office lights blending the contours of his face. You raise your other hand to hold his fine face between them. Admiring, in awe of all that he was.

“There’s only one known treatment option, I’ll have you know.” Unable to hide your smile, you quickly add, “Might require mouth to mouth if things go south.”

Zayne’s pools of hazel flick to your upturned lips, before meeting your mischievous stare with a hint of his own.

“Is this truly scientifically proven, or did you come all this way just to kiss me?”

“Yes,” was all you offered to his question, before placing an airy kiss to his cupid’s bow.

A second found its way to the bridge of his nose, laid over the slight ridge you adore before another rested between his raised brows. His eyes flutter to a close when your lips gently pressed to his temple, stilling at the contact. Slowly, you leave a trail of love across his cheeks, pausing once you meet the corner of his mouth.

Your thumb brushes against his lower lip, smiling at the way he parts them so readily for you. His chin tilts in the direction of your touch, mouthing the chase. A flush of pink sinked into his skin, a perfect peach for you to sink your teeth into.

“Tell me,” you say softly. Your fingers curl underneath his chin, observing the lidded gaze that follows. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

A tender exhale pushes past those very lips. “Right here,” he quietly admits. Closing the distance until you were only a breath away, his eyes focused on the plush of your mouth. “Please, Doctor.”

The union was gentle and warm, a kiss so kind that the same sentiment blossomed in your chest. Traces of a sweetened coffee picked from the hospital’s cafeteria and warm amber from his collar consumed your senses.

Zayne held you closer, chest to his and enveloping in a tender embrace. His hands traced the curve of your back, following your spine to gently cradle your head. Just to keep you this close, he was restless—realizing that he needed this more than he thought. The smile that cracks through another kiss is a testament to it, sealed with a deep breath of contentment.

It was perfect, a moment in time where your thundering heartbeats were equally matched. The world was nothing but a witness to the seconds spent in meaningful lip-locking.

“Mmph,” you groan unceremoniously.

Something firm brushed against your brow, pulling you out of the sweet trance. The culprit looked back at you in its silver rimmed and glass glory, sliding down the bridge of Zayne’s nose.

“Hm?” He leans back, noticing your discomfort. “What’s the matter?”

You contemplate on telling him, partially distracted by the puff of his lower lip. It has a sheen of your affection, and you were sure you looked no different in his eyes.

“Your glasses are falling,” you admit. You reach for the frames, intending on pushing them back to the high of his nose.

Zayne pauses your wrist then, a warm mirth in his gaze. “These are in the way, are they not?” He guides your hand, allowing the glasses to depart from his face and settling it on his desk.

With or without the specs, he truly was handsome—the kind of beauty modeled in Greek busts, from the contours of his cheeks to the sharp angle of his brow bone. You’d have to thank his parents the next time you see them.

He sneaks in a kiss, no longer obscured by the barrier and face perfectly pressed to yours. “My Doctor seems to be distracted,” he comments, taking in your wandering gaze. A cool hand graces the crowd of your head, patting softly. “What are you planning this time?”

His touches brought you out of your daydreaming, and you nod. Hands settling on the curves of his shoulders, you slide them upwards with a murmur of, “I should check your apical pulse again.”

Your eyes wander to the space behind him, a stethoscope only a grab away. With some effort, you spare a hand to reach for it, rising from the chair to a degree.

Zayne noticeably stiffens at his newfound view—your chest in his face wasn’t something on his agenda for today. The breath in his throat hitches, recognizing your fragrance. Comforting and pleasant, a piece of home warmly enhanced by your skin.

By the time you successfully have the medical device in hand, you nearly drop it at the feeling of his nose digging into your chest.

“Zayne? You’re—mmh?!” His hands find their way to your midsection, holding you still as he inhales deeply. You only hear him hum between muffled fabric, and your mind dizzies at the heatwave the mere sound sends to your core.

He pulls back with a soft sigh, the peach of his skin notably deepened to a soft rouge. Zayne guides you back to sit proper in his lap, reaching for the stethoscope in your surprised hand. Carefully, he places the ear tips into place for you and brushes your hair back in the process. Nonchalant, as if he didn’t spend the last waking moments happily buried in your chest.

“If you’re checking my pulse for me, I hope you’ve read the hospital’s code of conduct.” He drops his hands then, patiently awaiting your auscultation. In the reflection of his coy stare, you find that your own blush is faring far, far worse than his.

“Right, right. I did, trust me,” you say in confidence.

You, in fact, did no such thing. But memory of past appointments guides your hand over his heart, chest piece sliding around to count the beats. Not a single count was missed, all perfectly in place and accounted for.

Though, the only thing you could hear was your own heartbeat drumming. It didn’t help that his eyes were entirely focused on you, pointed with affection and observation alike.

“Well?” Zayne hums. “How does it sound?”

“You have a heart, and it’s beating alright.” Your conclusion was far from exemplary, but at least it was the truth.

“That’s a relief,” he laughs quietly. He gently removes the stethoscope, setting it aside. “Realistically, this isn’t how an auscultation works.”

“My methods are just special, that’s all.” You shrug, lightly patting the space that protects the aforementioned organ. “But you seem to be feeling better, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Mhm.” Zayne presses a kiss to your nose, and offers his gratitude. “Thank you, Doctor. I don’t know what I would do without your care.”

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mywritersmind · 6 months ago

Text

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.1

christmas special

next part

summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : suggestive comments! dual pov! swearing! hope you like this!! comment to be on tag list <3

words : 2638

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Persistent knocking at the door forces me to pull myself off my nicely made bed and slump down the stairs. Max, Piertra and I are staying in a cabin for Christmas because our parents have decided to go to the beach.

It’s rustic and smells like cinnamon everywhere, the roof dusted with the snowfall from the night before. I hurry down the stairs in my airplane outfit because I haven’t even had time to unpack.

As soon as I rest my hand on the cold door knob and open it to see who’s waiting, I regret it. “Merry Christmas!” A smiling Lando Norris stares back at me, bags in hand and snow on his curls.

I slam the door in his face. I should have looked through the peephole, maybe he would have given up. “Max!” I yell, hearing the pattering of his feet on the hard wood and his head peaking out his door. “There’s a thing at the door for you.”

His face breaks into a grin as he runs down. He all but pushes me out of the way to get to his best friend, opening the door and hugging him.

I roll my eyes and start to walk away but Lando’s voice rings out behind me, “Welcoming as always, sunshine.” That fucking nickname makes me turn, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of meeting my eyes.

“Max, I thought you said we ordered pizza, not your childhood best friend.” Max gives me a look which makes me cross my arms. He never understood my hatred for Lando, probably because he was the one pissing me off with him.

Yet I think he’s grateful that I stay as far away as possible. Still, Karma is real and Max’s nightmare is having his baby sister even close to his reckless friend, that’s why Lando takes every opportunity to flirt with me.

“Play nice, Y/n. It’s Christmas, you know, kindness and joy?” I narrow my eyes at Lando who steps inside and shakes off the snow on Max, “We’re spending this as a group! A group that loves each other!” My brother pushes him away, shutting the door to block the cold air.

Lando blows me a kiss as P comes around the corner, Max leaving Lando for his girlfriend, “Lando, you’re here!” the traitor says as Max hugs her from behind, “Come in! I’m making hot chocolate!”

⋆༺

Lando Norris and I have never been best friends. He saw me purely as his best friend's little sister and someone to annoy. I saw him as my brother's annoying friend who was constantly in my way.

Or I guess I should say ‘see’ instead of ‘saw’ because our childhood banter has continued through to adulthood. I can’t stand him, he’s cocky and annoying. I don’t know why he flirts with me, maybe it’s partly to annoy me and partly to get to my brother who yells at him anytime he so much as calls me pretty.

I like to think I'm more mature than my thirteen year old self who would scream at Lando for tying my shoes together, but as Lando makes an absurd amount of noise in the room adjacent to mine, I can’t help but slam my hand on our connecting doors.

We arrived at night so I was in bed quickly after dinner. I wish I was warm and cozy in my bed, but Lando blinks at me innocently after opening the door.

My eyes betray me when they leave his face and look at what he’s wearing. Or what he’s not wearing… Shirtless and in sweats, Lando looks all too smug.

“Can you shut up? I’m trying to sleep.”

“Can you stop checking me out? I’m on facetime.” He holds up his phone to show a dark screen, I can make out the sleepy face of Carlos Sainz. I push his phone back down, a bit embarrassed in my quadrant hoodie.

“Just keep it down, Norris. Can’t you and your boyfriend catch up later, like in daylight?”

That devious smirk makes its way back on his face, “Jealous, Sunshine?” That fucking nickname makes me roll my eyes, “I heard about the breakup… I feel horrible for him. Seemed like a nice guy.”

I grind my teeth together at the mention of my ex. How does he even know!? That was months ago. “Like you’re one to talk, losing the championship couldn’t have been good for your dick.”

His brow quirks at me playing back, “How often do you think about my dick, Sunshine?”

I put on my best sweet smile, my hand on the door, “When i’m in bed…” he leans closer, nodding, “Alone…” his brow raises and It makes my smile grow, “Getting sick at the idea and the alcohol in my system.”

His face drops as he stands straighter, “Why do you insist on lying to yourself? It’s not a good habit.”

“Why do you insist on being an asshole? Go to sleep.” I shut the door, giving him no choice but to back up quickly into his room.

“Sweet dreams, sunny!” He calls as I sigh and get back into bed, hoping for a good night's sleep and my headache to go away.

⋆༺

lando

Max makes me get up early so we can get breakfast before all the menus switch. I’m pushed out the door with Y/n by my side, her hair curled and looking far too put together for this early.

She has on jeans, a sweater, and a light blue puffer jacket over. Although she looks put together, I realize she’s just as tired as I am when I accidentally nudge her while walking to the car.

She pushes me back roughly as if it was my intent to touch her. Max and P are holding hands and walking ahead of us, so he doesn’t see his sister harassing me.

“Hey!” I’m lucky I didn’t slip because of my hands firmly in my jacket’s pockets. I feel like a marshmallow, I'm fully covered from a beanie on my head to seven layers and boots on my feet.

I go to push her back but the look she gives me reminds me that I know better. “What’s got you in such a good mood today, sunshine?”

She eyes me when I say the nickname I started calling her at fifteen. “I didn’t sleep.”

“I slept extremely well. Nice dreams too.” She rolls her eyes and opens the car door, the two of us sitting in the back while Max drives.

“I’m so happy for you.” She says, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She leans her head against the window, her breath showing on the glass.

“Wanna know what I dreamt about?” I smirk, clicking my seatbelt as she doesn’t move. “I’ll give you a hint.”

She looks at me, her cheek squished against the window that I know is freezing. “Would you like my foot up your ass?”

I ignore her, “You were there.” Max and P turn on the radio as we leave the driveway, speaking quickly about something and definitely not paying attention to us. “It was really hot… complete opposite of the snow. We had to strip.”

I’m leaning in closer, just in case. I don’t feel like getting my ass kicked by her brother today. “Sounds like it was a dream for a reason.” Y/n blinks, pulling my seatbelt back so it locks and I have no choice but to sit back in my seat.

God she’s hot.

⋆༺

We spend most of the day looking around the town, peeking into shops and going to the grocery store. We end up at a christmas tree farm about thirty minutes away from our house.

“I feel like I'm in a hallmark movie.” I think that should be a bad thing but they are my guilty pleasure. P and I wander down each row of trees, hot chocolate in hand and the boys arguing behind us.

“I’m so glad we’re here!” the blonde squeals next to me, “I know you don’t love Lando but he’s still fun. Plus no one should be alone on christmas!”

I raise a brow, “Why would he be alone?” I never really wondered why Lando was with us, but now I realize that it probably wasn’t just to fuck up my own holiday.

She shrugs and keeps looking for trees, talking about our plans to ski and snowboard tomorrow and yelling at Max to remember to find gingerbread houses.

“This one is perfect!” Lando runs up to the biggest tree in the lot, he looks extra small next to it.

“There’s no way we’re getting that in the house.” I say, crossing my arms and watching Lando shake his head vigorously.

One thing about Lando is that once he knows he wants something, he sets his mind to it in an almost urgent fashion.

“Have a little Christmas spirit, Sunshine.” he mumbles as he looks around the tree, then to a worker, “We’ll take it!”

“I’m not helping you two get that in the house.” P shakes her head as they start to drag the huge thing to the car.

As soon as they realize it won’t fit in our car, Lando pays a random man who has a truck to bring it to us. We’re back home soon after, Max going on about how he hopes our tree isn’t being stolen.

Our tree is thankfully not stolen and is outside our house when we get there. The man that helped us refuses the money and asks for a picture with Lando instead.

I’m very aware of Lando’s fame, but at moments like this, it’s still shocking. To me, he’s still the little shit who would beat me in karting and shove it in my face.

P and I sit on the couch eating cookies and making sure my phone is silenced while Lando and Max struggle with the tree for almost an hour. By the time it’s up, it’s dark and I'm hungry.

“I can’t reach!” I groan, standing on the side of the couch and trying to put ornaments higher up on the tree.

We’re a bit screwed considering the lot of us are quite short. I give up and just throw it up there, luckily it catches on a bit of green and stays there.

“Here.” Lando says to me, handing the star that we bought today at a local shop. “Try not to break it?”

I mimic him and stand on my tippy toes, trying to reach but being nowhere close. “Christ, Someone help her out.” Max cringes as he watches from his comfortable position on the couch.

I turn to him, “You could help, you know!”

P laughs, sucking on a candy cane and sorting through the decorations on the floor. I turn back to the tree and am taken severely off guard when Lando’s hands appear on my legs.

“Norris!” I scream as his head goes between my legs so I'm sitting on his shoulders. It’s an absolute ambush by a man in a too tight white shirt. “What are you doing!?” I grab onto his hair as he groans from me pulling it.

“It’s called a solution, Sunshine.” He stands up on the edge, wobbling a bit. I pull tighter but he retaliates by gripping my leg.

I roll my eyes and don’t dare look at P who I know has her phone out. Lando lifts me like it’s nothing, looking up at the top of the tree and seeing it far closer than it was.

I pop the star onto it and expect Lando to put me down but he just hops off the couch, “Norris, I swear-”

Max has a smile so big that my heart immediately starts beating faster. I can’t see Lando’s face but I know he’s smirking. “Don’t swear, it’s bad manners.”

“Right, cause you’re a great example of good manners.” I tug on his hair again and make him look up at me, he stops on the way to the front door. “Put me down.”

“Ask nicely.” Even from upside down he's hot. I let go of his hair but don’t accept defeat.

“Max, help!” I kick my feet against Lando as he opens the door, “Pietra!?”

I can’t see anything but the front yard, covered in snow. I’m freezing as soon as he steps out and I star fighting harder when I realize why Max is laughing so hard.

That’s when I start screaming. Our neighbors would probably think someone’s being murdered but this house is in the middle of nowhere!

“Norris! I’ll kill you!” I’m trying to get off but he’s just too damn strong, “Lando!” And then I go face first into four feet of soft snow.

I’m practically wrestling him by the time I get up, “I slipped! I slipped!” He yells as I shove his face into the snow. “Uncle!”

I’m laughing now, his face white and hair covered in snow, “Stop trying to murder my friend!” Max watches from the door, popping chips into his mouth as he lets us go at it.

I throw a snowball at my brother.

Lando takes my distracted position and throws a handful of snow in my mouth. I start coughing and slapping every part of him that I can. “Come back inside! You both are gonna get hypothermia.” P says from the door, wrapped in a blanket.

Lando stands up first, holding a hand out to me, a smirk on his face. I don’t take his hand, standing up on my own and pushing past him to walk inside.

Max messes with my hair as Lando shakes the snow from his curls on my brother like a dog. “Movie time!” P claps her hands together, “The grinch or elf?”

I groan, brushing my hands through my hair as Lando leans against the kitchen table, his arms flexing under the pressure and thoroughly distracting me.

“I hate elf.”

Lando’s jaw drops along with Max’s, “How can you hate elf!?” Max scoffs, “You are not my sister.”

“How can anybody hate elf!?” Lando shakes his head, “P, we’re watching elf.”

P laughs, “I’m a bit sick of the grinch, Y/n. Sorry.” Max puts his arm around P, shrugging and walking into the movie room.

Lando pushes off the table, swiping a blanket resting on a chair and handing it to me, “You look a bit pale, maybe you should warm up.”

I take the blanket, narrowing my eyes, “Is there going to be a sex joke after that?”

He puts his hand onto his chest, looking appalled, “I didn’t know you had such a dirty mind.”

I know he’s messing with me but I can’t help but play into it. “You don’t know a lot of things about me.”

“I’d like to know more. More that involves one of our rooms’ temperature going up and not because of the heater.” Cocky bastard.

I hum and start walking away, “Ah, there’s the sex joke.”

Lando follows behind me. I wish his mouth would stay shut but I know I'm not that lucky. “I know you’d like it.”

“You don’t know anything.”

He stops me before we get to the door where P and Max are behind. “Let me prove you wrong, then we’ll talk.” I knows he messing with me. I hate him for it.

He’s got that stupid smirk on his face, his eyes are soft, teasing, and darker in this light. His hands are in his pockets and that damn shirt is still tight against his biceps. Just because I hate him, doesn’t mean I can’t find him attractive.

I let out a breath, eyeing him one last time before pushing the door open, “Stick to me in your dreams, Lan.”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #f1 christmas #christmas fanfic #lando norris fluff

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 1 year ago

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Author's Note: I had a comment left on my post HERE. The person who commented brought up this scenario of Simon being dared to kiss you and you think that he won't, but he actually does and sparks end up flying. So, of course, I had to write it because... I mean... Come on... (lol). And here it is.

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap

Summary: During a game of Truth or Dare, your lieutenant is dared into giving you a kiss, but something about the way he has been acting lately may mean this is going to be more than a quick ordeal. And the way you have been feeling towards him won't be helping.

Word Count: 4k

Part 2: READ HERE

The night has started innocently enough: you and your fellow officers sit around together in the rec, blowing off a little steam after another successful mission. Some nice, simple fun of playing cards and shooting the shit like you usually do when leaving the base to go down to the bar isn’t an option. Everyone happens to be here tonight, including that brooding, mask-faced lieutenant that you can’t seem to keep your mind from drifting to as he stands against the wall behind you.

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you’ve noticed that the lieutenant’s presence has become more and more common lately, especially when you’re around. He keeps mostly to himself, staying on the edge of the fun by just watching, yet you swear that if you are stealthy enough from out of the corner of your eye you can catch his gaze lingering in your direction.

Whether it’s just a trick of your mind or the truth, either way it makes your pulse race. And tonight is no exception.

All has been pretty calm so far, nothing too rowdy or out of hand. At least, it was until now as the night has waned on and inhibitions have fallen. What was once an innocent bit of fun has turned a bit more risque as Soap decides that cards aren’t enough to keep everyone entertained. What game is it he always seems to pick when everyone is more loose? One where the consequences always end up interesting: Truth or Dare.

Several rounds have passed already where the truths have consistently gotten more honest and the dares even more spicy. No one is ready to call it quits just yet, but there is one person that hasn’t had a turn after all this time and that just won’t do, not if the Scottish sergeant has anything to say about it. Taking matters into his own hands, Soap turns his attention to the big man standing with his arms crossed, watching quietly.

“Oy, Lt. Come on, you’re already ‘ere. Ya gotta join us,” Johnny says through the raucous laughter to drag the silent lieutenant into the merriment. “Or are ya chicken, hmm?”

As much as you want Lt. Riley to join in, you would rather him stick around and something like this could get him to walk out; you don’t want that to happen. “Fucking can it, Johnny,” you say as you strike him in the bicep with your fist. “You’re talking out of your ass, alright? Knock it off.”

To everyone’s surprise and yours, after a momentary pause, Lt. Riley steps up closer to the table with his arms still crossed. “ ‘s fine,” he dismisses your concern. “But, one round is all you’re gonna fuckin’ get from me, sergeant, so better make it count.”

Johnny nods his head in agreement, actually caught off guard that he is even able to get this far with the ever stoic and cold-shouldered officer. It all seems a bit too easy, but Soap isn’t going to pass up an opportunity like this to get the lieutenant involved. He’s gotta make this good whatever it is that gets chosen and so he pauses a minute to think of an idea for either scenario before speaking up. “Alright Lt, ye know how it goes. Truth or dare?”

Truth is never going to be an option for Lt. Riley, not with the level of secrecy he keeps to at all times when it concerns his life; he knows if he gives Johnny an inch he will take a goddamn mile. So, there is only one other option and though he tries to hide the fidgeting in his hands, he picks it.

Maybe it’ll be something that’ll help him strike up a conversation with you later. “Dare,” he says.

The grin that lights up Soap’s face instantly lets the entire table know that he is up to no good and the words that follow are a testament to that fact. You thought you knew Johnny well enough by now, but not even you could have been prepared for what came out of his mouth then. “Alright, I dare ye ta kiss our sassy little sergeant right here,” he says as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze.

You meet his blue eyes and hold them in stunned silence. Is he fucking serious? As if Lt. Riley would ever go for something so fucking dumb as this. Johnny has to be out of his goddamn mind to put you in this position; it’s like he knows something he shouldn’t. Again your immediate reaction is to sock him in the arm, this time a bit harder to drive home the point that you are done with his bullshit.

And yet… shockingly… you hear the lieutenant speak up.

“Fine,” Lt. Riley agrees to everyone’s amazement.

You turn your attention to face him. “Are you sure? Johnny’s just being a dick, you don’t have to listen to him, sir,” you reassure as you shoot a glare that has the Soap nervously shifting in his seat, worrying about what is going to happen to him later for pulling such a ridiculous stunt.

“Said it’s fine,” he repeats, his gruff tone metered. “But I ain’t doin’ it ‘ere though; you’re not gettin’ a free fuckin’ show if that’s what you’re after Mactavish.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll give ya that,” Johnny concedes. Those blue eyes scan the room for a solution. “How about ‘round tha corner there.”

He points to the bend in the wall a few feet away; far enough from the group that they won’t be able to tell what’s happening behind it. Since there are now stipulations that the lieutenant has set, Johnny is going to add his own as well for good measure. “However,” he pipes up, “since it ain’t in front a us here, ya gotta stay in place for 10 minutes. I doubt ye’ll actually do anything, but might as well make ye both have ta awkwardly stand there for a bit. And don’t think yer gonna pull a fast one; I’m gonna be countin’.”

You look back at the lieutenant and he gives a nod. “Fine,” you agree as well. How you are able to keep your voice so steady when you feel that jolt deep in the pit of your stomach is a mystery, but you pull it off just fine.

With the rules set Lt. Riley stares at you as if waiting for you to get up from your seat first before he moves. You do and he immediately follows close behind as you make your way over to the wall just past the corner amidst the sounds of whistles and whoops. With a quick flip of the bird back over your shoulder to the group, you both vanish around the side and come to a stop a few feet from the edge.

You lean your back up against the wall as he comes to stand in front of you, watching you intensely through the opening in his thin balaclava. As you wait to see who will speak first, you notice a tension in his broad shoulders that hadn’t been there before. This is the first time you both have ever been this close to one another and you can’t overlook the fact that he seems even bigger now that you are standing so near; you can’t help but admire how small you feel next to him.

The longer he stares at you with those golden eyes, studying your face as if he is deciding something, the more rapid your heartbeat thumps heavy in your chest. He takes a step closer and then another before coming to a stop again. Now there is less than a foot’s distance between your bodies and suddenly there is a shift in the atmosphere around you both, a thick tension that is growing harder to ignore.

The sounds of laughter filters over to the both of you, breaking you out of the haze of your thoughts. “You know, we don’t have to do anything. If you want me to lie, it’s fine, sir,” you speak before he has a chance to. “Fuck Johnny for putting us in this situation. We can just stand here in silence until we get called back.”

He clears his throat. “Who said anythin’ ‘bout lyin’?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrow that you can make out through the mask. “Just don’t wanna, is that it?”

Something in the way he says the statement catches you off guard. Why does he sound slightly disappointed? Did he want to actually do this? You couldn’t really believe that; no, you must be reading this all wrong. “No, that’s not…” you stumble over your words; why is it getting harder to speak? “I just… didn’t think you’d want to… but… if you do then…”

“Yes or no?” he cuts off your string of stammering.

“Yes,” you confirm.

Nothing else needs to be said other than that. His hand moves to his face, his fingers finding the bottom edge of his mask, and now you can’t breathe as you wait to see what’s under there. This is the first time you’ll be able to see more than just his eyes and that leaves your mind reeling.

Okay, you prepare yourself, it’s just a kiss, right? Nothing to it; you’ve been kissed before. This will be no different. Just breathe and we’ll get through it.

The mask is wrenched up above his nose so that his mouth is revealed and spread across waiting for you is a subtle, cocky smirk. Your cheeks flush as your eyes are drawn to the facial hair covering his jaw and outlining his lips; short, light brown outgrowth from not having shaved today. It accentuates his strong jaw perfectly and though you try, you can’t look away.

Still focused on his face you miss the warning as a strong hand suddenly finds its way onto your waist as he moves against you. His broad chest is pressed up to yours, you can feel it through the thinner fabric of his shirt, and you can’t tell whether it’s your own pounding heartbeat or his that you feel. That tension is suffocating now that he is this close, the air so thick it feels like you can cut it with a knife. You wait impatiently for the moment to finally break.

It feels like you are holding your breath when after a few more seconds he finally speaks. “Good,” he says with a bit of breathiness to his voice, “cause I’m no liar.”

Leaning his head down slowly to reach you his lips inch ever closer until you can feel their warm, ghostly presence brush over your mouth causing your eyes to flutter shut as the ecstasy from the anticipation of them making contact overwhelms you. They are there, right there, and you plead with the universe to finally let them touch. You feel him inhale sharply and with that they are crashing against yours. It is with such an automatic, visceral intensity that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Simon had been certain until the second your lips made contact that he could keep himself under control, that this was nothing more than sinless fun, but as he breathes in the hot, moist air from your mouth while he captures it again, he already knows that this is not going to end how he has intended. There is an immediate magnetism that you both cannot pull from and what is supposed to be something quick, turns mind-numbing in an instant.

Time stands still as your lips twine together in that familiar back and forth and what can only be a few short seconds extend out into an eternity. It’s like flicking on a switch how easily you melt into his embrace, like acquainted lovers, like your lips have always meant to be pressed tightly together.

How can this be the first time you have ever kissed?

The stubble covering the exposed half of his face pricks along your cheeks the more he advances; the skin around your lips and your jaw growing more raw each time he moves, but the way it makes your face burn is far from painful. His breathing has become more strained, muscles tensing as he risks nipping carefully at the skin on your lower lip.

You inhale a sharp breath through your teeth and then it happens: an unconscious reaction to the pleasure surging through your veins like liquid fire. You can’t stop yourself as a sneaky moan creeps up your throat and before you can swallow it back down you hum it into his mouth.

That low, alluring sound leaves that hulking military officer hungry to hear more. Those large hands of his desperately want to paw at your body, to caress all those silky curves against the coarse skin of his palms, to let his fingertips linger at all that delicately soft flesh for as long as he can. A deep, gnawing ache settles itself in his chest as he takes your lips with more feral aggression; Simon has never craved something more in that moment than to keep you like this entangled with him.

The longer he goes, the more there is nothing tentative about his movements; he kisses you like he owns you. Lt. Riley steals from you as if your lips are air and he will suffocate without them, his desperation is the kind that feels like this is life or death and he needs you to survive. You are unprepared for the fucking bliss of it all, the raw, unbridled passion that his lips create as the friction abrades the tender skin of your mouth.

And your thoughts scream for him to keep going.

You match his intensity with your own, kissing him back with everything that you have in you. He opens his mouth slightly and without thinking your tongue moves in and presses against his, trying to shove its way into his mouth. Fuck, he is not prepared for you to be so keen and it throws him off for only a moment before he leans into that passion and comes back with his response.

The lieutenant braces one of his large hands near your hip, pinning you to the wall while his mouth engulfs your own as he slides his tongue in between your teeth to fill the cavity full. It slithers over the surface of your tongue towards the back of your mouth, the taste of you intoxicating so that he cannot get enough. The pleasure is so intense that it severs his connection with reality and everything outside of your joined mouths fades away into background noise. His other hand moves from your waist and is suddenly wrapped around the back of your neck, his thumb holding steadily against your jaw to keep your head securely in his grip so that he can pull you as tight against his face as he can stand.

Your head is reeling from the potency of those hot, feverish lips that are suck yours into their desperate embrace. Then his knee forcefully pries its way between your thighs and you are sure that you will not come back from this. It’s too much to handle and you’ve lost all control… no, that’s not right. You’ve yielded everything completely to him without even having to think about it and he has taken every single ounce of what he has been given as if it has always been his.

Leaning up into him, you stand up on the balls of your feet as he guides the movement of your head by tilting it from one side to the other in that natural dance that happens when lips play. You are both insatiable as that carnal need to devour the other makes it impossible to not relinquish yourselves to the ecstasy that overwhelms in that moment.

Never in your life have you wanted a man to possess you more than you want your superior to right now. Images of him picking you up and slamming your back into the wall, making you encircle his waist with your legs, his cock straining and throbbing between your clothed sex as you plead with him to take you, fill your mind until they make you light-headed.

Lt. Riley is not faring any better and he has to focus his entire will into keeping his hands engaged so that he can resist the tingling in his fingertips to find the button on your pants and undo them. If you were alone without the threat of interruption, you might already be half undressed by now, but just as that urge reaches its peak and his fingers are moving in, you both hear the words that make your hearts sink.

“Eh, you two,” you hear Soap calling out from a distance, “times up.”

It is torture to pull away from you; Simon is on the verge of combusting from being forced to stop before he is ready. But he has to or else he might be found out and there is still hesitation to admit that he might actually want more of this. Even after the ecstasy you both had just shared he isn’t sure how far he should let this go and so with a sigh of defeat he releases your lips from his own.

By the time he lets you go and moves out from between your legs, your stance is unsteady and your mind fuzzy. The sudden lack of pressure against your mouth leaves you feeling empty and you have to stop yourself from whining aloud. As your eyes slowly flutter open you look up into his face and are met with that chocolate brown gaze lingering on you. There is something swimming in the depths of his eyes: a question, a statement, you’re not sure, but he doesn’t say it aloud. The need to say something yourself eats at you, but you close your mouth tight and bite your tongue to keep silent.

You can’t bring yourself to risk admitting that you don’t want him to stop; what if he doesn’t feel the same? The pressures of putting it all out there at this moment is too much to handle. Instead, you let the moment die away quietly as you breathe deeply through your nose.

“Times up,” Lt. Riley repeats the phrase softly as he situates his balaclava back down under his chin to hide himself from you once again. The others are cheering for your return, giving you no time to collect yourself, so you simply sigh and stride back to the group together.

Heads turn your direction as you reappear back into the main room. “Well?” the heavily accented voice of the bastard that has orchestrated this whole thing questions you both.

Trying not to stumble back to your seat, you play it off as if you hadn’t just had your soul sucked out through your lips. “Well what?” you return as the lieutenant passes you up and takes his place back behind the group.

Soap’s brow furrows. “Don’t play dumb with us, lass,” he chides. “Was he any good?”

You cautiously take your seat back where you had been as everyone waits for your answer, trying to give yourself more time to calm your pulse that is still racing like wildfire through your tingling limbs. “It was fine,” you say, hoping you are collected enough to pull off such a bold-faced lie.

“Oh really?” Johnny asks skeptically as he eyes you up and down to read your body language. Your heart leaps in your chest as you think you’ve been found out, that the bloom in your cheeks is still too noticeable, but he continues like nothing. “I think yer full a shit. Probably didn’t even get a peck, knowin’ LT. I bet ye did nothin’ back there, but stand in silence.”

You snicker at him, carefully adjusting yourself in your seat so you can squeeze your legs together to relieve the throbbing in such a way that it doesn’t draw attention. “Aww... Guess that’s only for us to know and for you to spend all your time worrying about, bitch. It’s gonna eat at you, isn’t it? Gonna lose sleep thinking about me and the lieutenant, hmm?” you pick back, which seems to get him off your case.

“Ye wanna add anythin’ here?” Soap asks as he turns to the mask officer.

You risk a glance over your shoulder back at your superior, knowing that this could undo all your progress at regaining your composure, and you catch him completely lost in thought, not having heard a word that Soap just said. Quickly he recovers, clearing his throat. “What’re ya on about, Mactavish?” he questions back.

“I asked if ye had anythin’ to add to her account of events,” Johnny chuckles. “Or are ye too stunned ta speak?”

The lieutenant shoots him a glare before pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Don’t push yer fuckin’ luck, yeah?” he answers it like a threat as he flips open the pack and places a cig in between his fingers.

Soap holds up his hands innocently with palms facing out in agreement not to start any trouble. “Ye must a been terrible, lass,” Soap picks as he turns his attention back to you to keep the jovial atmosphere up.

You slug him hard enough to make his chair squeak from the force before joining in the others laughter to disguise the heat still burning through your cheeks. Simon takes the opportunity to slip out unnoticed, though you let your eyes follow him one last time. It is a monumental task that he has to perform to actively put one foot in front of the other, to calculatedly focus his breathing to stay calm, and make it out of the door without anyone noticing that his composure is clearly broken.

Once out of sight he hurriedly steps out into the cool night air and immediately rips up his mask as he lights his cigarette, taking a long, heavy drag off it as he leans up against the brick of the building. The nicotine tingles his throat and he hopes it’ll be enough of a distraction to stop the intense pounding in his chest. Breathing the smoke out in a weighty sigh he adjusts the crotch of his pants as they have suddenly become too tight for his comfort.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters under his breath as he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, desperately trying to focus on anything in a vain attempt to calm himself, but he already knows its no use.

The second his eyes are shut all he can think about is that kiss: he can still feel his arm around you, detect the ghost of your lips against his, sense the warmth of your breath in his mouth. He tries to push the delectable sensations from his mind, but they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon and he knows it.

Opening his eyes he stands back up off the wall with a need that compels him, making him move strategically so that he can peek through the door without being seen. Sneakily he stares back into the building, those brown eyes catching the sight of you smiling and laughing, those full lips making his blood pressure rise as he watches them move about as you speak, still red and swollen from being claimed.

This is a problem, a big fucking problem. Now the only thing that that hardened military man can think about, instead of keeping his distance, is how he can recreate that exact scene with you again.

And maybe, just maybe, take it even further.

2K notes · View notes

alexiroflife · 1 year ago

Text

"please"

MDNI, very suggestive content

Synopsis: you and choso keep warm as a snowstorm swarms the city

to sum it up: you have sex together for the first time and both love the word 'please'

WC: 7,077

Warning(s): SMUT, all of it smut

There had always been something about snowstorms, the way they ushered people indoors and howled against the windows angrily, creaking the floorboards and coating the world outside in a smooth blanket of white.

You had always thoroughly enjoyed them, watching with childlike wonder from inside your room as flurries of ice rushed into view, blowing about the gray air in a frenzy. You liked the way it inspired warmth within your home and brought people together, how a mug of hot chocolate tickled your palms with its heat, sending shivers down your spine as your backyard froze over.

Your boyfriend, Choso, had never gotten the privilege to experience a snowstorm in full flux. You had been excited for him to witness it with you for the first time and prepared the essentials, sparking the fireplace, fixing hot beverages, and putting on soft music that played softly in the background. While you were captured by the weather as the two of you sat on your shared sofa, you in his lap and a heavy blanket wrapped around both of your bodies, the brunette was far more interested in what was transpiring within the room.

His fingers tapped and traced against your thigh, heavy eyes gazing up at you as you rambled on to him about how beautiful the snow looked from there, swirling and dancing about as though it had a mind of its own. He would hum every now and then to show that you had his attention, but he couldn’t deny that he was far more intrigued by you, not by the weather. Not in the slightest.

Jade eyes danced over the movement of your jaw, the occasional pull and part of your soft lips as you spoke. His eyes glazed over, catching each spec of dampness that coated the ridges in your lips as you lifted your mug to your mouth. He studied the way your throat moved as you cautiously drank in the warm liquid, hands cupped gingerly around the ceramic piece, then the way your tongue slid slowly over your top lip to gather the sweetness from the rim of your mouth, pursing your lips inward.

“Cho?”

Your perfect voice sank into his mind as he dragged his eyes away from your mouth to meet yours, pupils blown wide and cheeks dusted with pink from both his recovery from stepping outside and the impact of your contact. You touched the nape of his neck gently, setting your cup down to turn to face him as his hand slid up your back, keeping you upright and close to him, oh so close.

“You okay? You still cold?”

How could he be cold within the embrace of your heat? So enticing, so whole, so full of you. There was no way for him to have been cold as long as he was by your side, heart bursting into flames at the very slightest touch of your fingers. He looked at your slightly concerned face and flustered, still somehow nervous under your gaze though you had been together for close to a month now.

He was prepared to tell you that he was fine when your other hand slid over the curve of his cheekbone to hold his cheek in your palm. His lashes fluttered and he hummed, addicted to you. “A little,” he ended up saying shamelessly, eager for you to press yourself further into him so that he could practically suffocate at your will.

You made a small noise that sounded like a coo and curled impossibly closer into him, wrapping your other arm tighter around his neck as your hand on his cheek brought him up to your lips. Choso melted, allowing you to guide him into your tenderness without hesitation. Your lips met his softly, deftly, and he practically sighed, taken completely by all of you.

“Sorry love,” you whispered against him, kissing softly at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll turn up the heat more.”

The half curse’s eyes almost went wide when he felt you try to move against him. “No,” he stopped you before you could even think of setting a foot to the ground, your legs being held tighter to your boyfriend. You looked at him curiously. “I’m sorry, no, I’m okay. Don’t go anywhere.”

You giggled lightly, understanding. “Okay,” you smiled, kissing him gently again.

Choso relaxed against you, comforted by the fact that he knew you weren’t leaving him. When you moved to pull away from his lips for a second time, Choso was selfishly pressing them back in, fingers digging into the soft fluff of your pajama pants as he kissed you fervently.

You loved kissing your boyfriend. He was always so sweet and needy with the way he kissed, shyly bumping his lips against yours in a peck before breaking away to press in the smallest bit harder, succumbing to the taste of you and regaining a sense of confidence alongside the building desire in his gut. He liked you practically on top of him when he kissed you, hovering over him as he tilted his head to follow your mouth as you straddled his lap, caging him beneath the softness of your face, of your gaze, of your heavenly mouth.

You held his face to yours, the soft symphony of lips smacking rumbling beneath the crackle of the flame before you, providing the only source of dim, delicate light within your living room. The wind proceeded to knock against the window as your legs surrounded Choso’s thighs, his large hands hoisting you up over him and keeping your waist secure, connected. Making out heatedly was the farthest you and Choso had ever gone in regard to your intimate lives, but the way your boyfriend was desperately pressing up into you with an involuntarily buck of his hips toward your crotch, you could tell that there was something more he wanted. That both of you wanted.

You broke away from him slowly to catch his eyes, both pairs sunken with desire. His brows were knitted together desperately, lips parted as he breathed heavily into you and watched you closely, cheeks flustered. “What is it baby?” your voice asked out breathlessly, lips still brushing over his, his head twitching beneath you.

Choso dragged his hands along your legs, from your knees up to your thighs over the fabric of your soft plaid pants. A look of slight embarrassment crossed his face as he looked at you, eager yet unsure of how to express so. “I want…” he started in a weighted exhale, chest falling heavily as you danced your fingers over his neck and his chest. He looked down then back up, distracted yet captured by you, all of you. “I want to feel you,” he sighed.

You could feel something harden against the inside of your thigh the moment the words left him and manifested into reality. Your heart jumped as you studied him, the way his lips twitched slowly when he felt the very same movement below. He looked down again as though pained, sliding his hands to grasp your hips and strained a soft groan.

“S-Sorry,” he grumbled. “I just think… I want you so badly right now,” he confessed earnestly, glancing back up at you sheepishly, your heart palpitating at the adorable sight. “Is that alright?”

God, Choso was so sweet, asking for permission as though you hadn’t already sworn that you were his and his to take whenever either of you were ready. The air around you thickened as the fire glowed warmly against the side of your faces, enhancing the needy gleam in his eyes as he stared up at you, anxiously, lustfully.

“You want me how?”

The pads of his fingers squeezed your hips every now and then as he awaited you, trying so hard to be patient and gauge what you were thinking, what you wanted.

“I want to have sex with you,” his deep voice rumbled out, and you were already aching for him at the thought. While this wasn’t something unexpected to you, you understood that taking your relationship to the next level was a big deal for the both of you.

“Are you sure?” you asked, though you knew that you wanted it so badly. You wanted to show him how much you loved him, to feel him against you in every sense of the word.

You could see your boyfriend falter slightly, doubting himself when you questioned him as though he hadn’t been more sure of anything in his entire life. The light in Choso’s eyes flickered as he nodded rather certainly, pressing his soft lips together.

“Do you want to?”

His question came out so innocently, eyes searching yours in earnest, and you melt for him. “Of course I do, Cho. I love you so much.”

He trembled, hands freezing on your hips. “I love you too,” he murmured, a sudden vibrance in his low tone. He leaned up slightly, seeking your lips again. “I’ve wanted you for so long, (Y/n), please. I’ve been wanting to make you feel good for so long,” he confessed.

Your gut swarmed into a mass of butterflies as he kissed you again, eager for a chance to taste you over and over again until nothing but you was left for him to think of for the rest of time. You fell into him, looping your arms around him and massaging your lips into his slowly, each languid motion of your lips swimming against each other’s dragging out sensually. Choso’s body shivered against you with anticipation, digging his fingers into the skin that poked out under your sweater.

It was mind numbing the way his palms touched over your bare sides, carefully, lovingly.

You gently swiped your tongue over his bottom lip and his hips jerked again, blood, normally under his manipulation, rushing to print into his sweats and against your skin. He parted his lips, welcoming the touch of your tongue against his.

Your wet muscles tangoed together languidly, pushing and swirling over the other, searching for the taste of your warm, wet caverns. The sound of Choso grunting against you spurred you on, your hips pushing eagerly up against his. The brunette’s brows furrowed, the sugary chocolate taste of you from your cocoa smothering him in arousal.

You had him in the palm of your hands wrapped tightly around your finger. He would have done anything for you if you’d asked him if it meant he was gifted the chance of loving you, of touching you, of massaging his tongue into your mouth and drawing out precious soft moans that complemented the groans building in his throat, of smoothing his unsteady hands over the fat of your bum and pushing you up into him to meet the third buck of his hips. You could have done anything to him, and he would have thanked you, thrusting up into the heat of your thighs as your hands ran over his face.

You pulled away to duck your head gracefully, lips meeting just under his jaw in a feather light peck. Choso’s breath hitched in his throat, his chin tilting back subconsciously as your mouth melted over his throat, the affectionate graze of your lips and tongue sending his body into flames. You knew exactly how to work him up without even going farther than kissing him, pressing your chest to his and curling your fingers into the roots of his hair.

Your kisses marked over his neck and swam down to his collarbone, pressing with such love and care as though you were taking all the time in the world to appreciate him. “Take off your shirt for me, Cho,” you leaned into his ear to tell him, each motion you took and word you spoke making his head spin with their angelic, yet seductive tone. He didn’t even fix his mouth to say anything before he was already reaching down to tug his shirt over his head with the help of your soft hands.

You watched as he peeled the fabric over his head, pale abdominals flexing deliciously as his elbows rose up and his shirt caught over his face. He finally popped his head from, dropping the shirt onto the floor beside him and relocking his eyes with yours, seeking your next request. You ran your hands slowly over his skin, detailing each bump and scar over his enormous pecs and all the way down to his well defined v-line teasing out of his pants. Choso watched the trek of your pretty hands intensely, inhaling slowly and sharply through his nose as they traveled lower and lower.

You unwrapped your legs from around his waist to scoot yourself back, leaning down to kiss softly across the milky skin of his chest. He jerked beneath you, sucking in a breath. “Relax, baby,” you murmured, and he obeyed.

Choso didn’t like the fact that you were climbing off of him, but once he saw where you were headed, his mind went fuzzy. You reached down to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging slowly with your lips to his abdomen, revealing the tent poking angrily against his boxers. His eyes went wide, heart racing in his chest and hand hesitantly reaching down to you.

“(Y/n), you don’t have to-”

“Shhh,” you shushed him. You dotted kisses to the outside of his underwear’s fabric, sweatpants pooling around his knees now. You glanced up over your lashes to catch the beautiful sight of your boyfriend staring down at you through heavy lids and sharp violet eyes over his nose, brown locks sweeping handsomely over his forehead and around his shoulders. “Is this okay?” you asked in a murmur, lips ghosting over the bulge of his throbbing dick. You puckered your lips softly over his print and he reached to grip the side of the sofa, grinding his teeth together and jutting his hips toward your nose.

“F-Fuck,” he hissed out, nodding rapidly. “Yeah… yeah, that’s more than okay.”

That was all you needed to hear before you were hooking your finger into his boxers and lazily, watching with unwavering focus as his happy trail unveiled itself just seconds before his pretty cock was springing free and slapping up against his stomach. Choso winced, desperately holding back a moan as you helped him tug off the rest of his lower garments.

His eyes were trained on you as though he would die if he looked away, your lips teasingly meeting the skin surrounding his shaft before they touched it gently. He whimpered, moving to slap his hand over his mouth to prevent himself from making any further noise. You hummed against him, sliding your lips up to his angry red tip, already oozing dots of precum as you hovered over him. You eased your tongue over it, wrapping your lips after to suck the inch of liquid away with a pop.

“Hah-” Choso gasped, muscles tensing and flexing beneath you in pleasure. He wanted more, more of your lips, more of your tongue on his aching length. You looked so gorgeous, wrapping your fingers around his base with your eyes glued to his, watching each reaction you pulled out of him when you licked a long stripe along the side of his long, veiny dick, so heavy in your hand. “(Y/n),” he sighed raggedly, biting onto the back of his knuckle with curled brows. He needed you so badly, it was beginning to hurt. “Please, please keep going.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” you reminded him, and he was whimpering, tension easing away as your other hand smoothed over his beefy thigh, lips circling to finally capture the whole of his leaking to tip in your mouth. Choso choked on a strained sigh, hips bucking once more involuntarily, jolting the upper half of his length further into your mouth accidentally.

“Shit, I’m sorry, m’sorry,” he breathed. “Just felt so- so g-”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence when your hand started stroking up and down over the base of his cock, rotating in a painfully slow, circular motion while your tongue swirled over his tip, lips sucking around his girth gently. Choso moaned, a long, shredded, deep sound that sent a throb straight to your clit. You immediately determined that this sound he released was the most astounding thing you had ever heard in your life and continued with your mouth’s movements, bobbing your head to take him into the drooling, heated pool of your mouth.

“Baby,” he groaned, eyes fluttering as he lowered his knuckles from his mouth to place his hand atop your head, smoothing affectionately over your hair as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him off. The sound of your slurps hit Choso’s ears as you hand continued to rub his length, squeezing your hand around him ever so gently before wrapping the other hand around just above, synchronizing the strokes in opposite directions.

Choso’s jaw fell open, hot shallow breaths escaping his parted lips while he watched you, your head ducking to take more of him as his tip slid against the warm silkiness of the roof of your mouth repeatedly. He had fallen in love with the feeling of your lips and the touch of your hands long ago, but as both swallowed the whole of his twitching length while your hums of satisfaction vibrated against his sensitive cock, he was falling in love all over again.

He squirmed beneath you, broken moans and whines spilling past his lips, unable to tear his eyes away from the gorgeous sight of slobber spilling down his girth and smearing over your lips from your mouth, yet his eyelids proceeded to weigh lower over his jaded irises, breath pattern growing uneven.

“Baby, please,” he murmured, voice pitching into a warbled whimper. You picked up your pace, bobbing up and down faster and slurping him into you as though he was your last meal. It was disgusting, the way his precum leaked into your spit and dribbled down your chin, dripping onto his balls and soaking the couch, though the loving stroke of his hand over your head contrasted the sloppiness. His hips bucked again, slowly pushing to meet the bob of your head so that he was gently fucking your throat. He moaned out loudly, his head falling back and eyes falling shut, Adam’s apple bouncing. He was completely lost in pleasure, conquered by your beautiful lips sucking prettily over his cock.

“Please, please, please, ah, f-fuck, keep- ngh- going baby. Please, it’s so- so good…”

He was so mouthy. You absolutely loved every bit of it. You could feel him twitching inside you, signifying that he was already close to finishing. You moaned around him sweetly, tucking your head and pushing forward to take all of him to the back of your throat, hands pressing against his sides to give your mouth room. You were overzealous, taking for more than you were capable of, but you wanted to see Choso’s eyes roll into the back of his head. You wanted to hear those gorgeous moans roll from his tongue, you wanted to taste all of his perfect cock, sliding in and out of your throat until you were choking.

“Ahhh, fuckkk! babyyy, fuck, oh my fucking godddd,” he whined, a mess of himself as he pathetically humped into you.

Your own eyes rolled into your head as you bobbed rapidly over him, tip hitting to the back of your throat with sinful plunging sounds. You were whining into him as he groaned out, writhing beneath you as his balls tightened. You felt his hand still upon you, grasping gently into your hair. His head lifted suddenly again to catch the vision of you, eyes watery and lips drenched over his dick; a sight to behold. “Y’so- so pretty, baby, please- fuck, I can’t- feels so good, so gooddd-“

It didn’t take long for him to snap, plunging your head downward and stilling in your throat, hot ropes of his cum decorating the inside of your mouth as he moaned, eyes dazed and rolling backward, voiced gasps heaving from his chest.

You took it all, swallowing generously as his cum trickled down your throat and spilled from the sides of your mouth. His body went limp beneath you, grip in your hair loosening as you sat up and popped his length from your mouth. You gazed down at him as his thumb reached to swipe away streaks of cum from your chin.

He was coated in a shiny layer of sweat and his brown hair stuck to his flushed skin, chest expanding and toned muscles gleaming in the firelight and afterglow of his orgasm. “Baby,” he whispered and you smiled softly, lifting up to straddle him again and wrap him into your arms, his own following and winding around you sleepily, securing you to his bare body.

He tucked his nose into the crook of your neck as he held you, struggling to adjust to reality once more as he continued to recover from the finish you gave him. “You okay? I didn’t mean to grab you like that,” he muttered with a hush into your skin, melting his hands beneath your sweater and up your back as he savored you against him, closing his eyes and breathing you in.

“Don’t worry, baby, I liked it,” you whispered to him, and you could feel him sigh in relief against you.

“Good, because you made me feel… amazing,” he praised gently. “I love your mouth. Love your hands so much, so so much. Felt so good…”

He was kissing your neck, then your cheek, and pulling back to kiss your swollen lips, tasting a hint of himself lingering on your tongue.

“You take your shirt off now. It’s your turn,” he said tenderly, raising it over your hand from inside of the fabric.

The brown haired man looked down over your bare torso, your perfect tits sitting upright over your smooth stomach, (s/c) skin capturing the fire light enchantingly. You flushed under his gaze, his purple eyes roaming every inch of your figure with swelling ardor.

“Let me see you, beautiful,” he pleaded, stroking over the plush of your shoulder then down, over your chest and grazing at your hardened nipple. You flinched and he looked up in a panic.

“Sorry-“

“No, Cho, it’s okay,” you reassured him, grabbing his wrists and guiding his hands to cup your breasts within his palms. “Just sensitive… but it feels nice when your hands are on them.”

He soaked in the sight, the feeling, hands curving around the plush fat, groping them experimentally within his large palms. You let out a weak sigh, lips parting and back arching slightly. The brunette caught the reaction with haste, heart skipping a beat. “Like this?” he rolled his thumb lightly over one of your nipples and you shuddered.

“Y-Yes, just like that.”

The brunette snatched your response as a means to continue eagerly. He moved to hold your back as he adjusted the both of you, laying you back on the end of the couch as he climbed over top of you with your legs still hooked around his torso, settling you onto the soft cushions with ease. You looked bashfully up at him, the confidence you had moments ago when sucking his dick fading surprisingly fast as he caged over you, his large frame trapping you beneath his. You felt vulnerable like this, lying beneath your boyfriend with your tits out, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way with any other person.

Choso’s sweat-dampened hands reached back over your tits, squeezing them generously as he watched the plush fat jiggle like fluid within his grasp. He was mesmerized, captivated by your body. “So pretty,” he marveled to himself, running his tongue over his damp lips hungrily. He glanced up at you to ensure that he was still in the clear, your dizzy (e/c) eyes granting him all the permission in the world.

There was no stopping him now. He had your beautiful body to explore, to please, to worship. There was nothing on this planet that would have been able to pull him away from you.

The brunette ducked down in a similar fashion you had earlier when you kissed his chest, and took the whole of your nipple into his mouth, sucking graciously. Your back arched, chest curving forward and into his jaw. He groaned, gripping your tit tighter and lapping hungrily at your bud. You writhed in response to the sensation, the sensitivity in your nipples heightening the more Choso took advantage. You reached your hands out to the sides of his face, holding him as he pressed his groin down into your crotch, securing your body with his length pressed into you, twitching.

“Ngh- Cho,” you gasped, head tilting backward. Your boyfriend knew he was doing something right when your head moved the exact same way he did when you were sucking him off.

Choso closed his eyes with you, relishing in his bliss as he released your nipple to move over to the other one. He kissed the skin passionately, sucking bruises all over your breasts, guided by his lust for the taste of your skin. Your tits were perfect, soft and malleable at his will. He would have died like this if he could.

He lifted his head to kiss your cheek, then your forehead, then nose and mouth and chin. “Perfect,” he exhaled in between kisses. “You’re perfect, so perfect, (Y/n),” he babbled nonsensically, ducking back down to your chest then slowly traveling down your stomach, lips finding any piece of skin he possibly could.

When he reached your pants, he kissed along the fat of your thigh through the fabric, greedy to feel more, to see more, to taste more of the girl he knew to be the very love of his life.. You squeaked as the purple eyed man climbed off of the couch and crouched down at the side of it, tugging you carefully toward him by the hem of your pants. He lowered himself down to his knees, your upper back now propped up against the couch’s vertical cushions.

Choso looked up at you lovingly as he moved to tug your pants down your legs. His eyes flickered down at the motion, you helping him by shimmying out of the article of clothing. He studied the manner in which the fabric peeled down the plush of your soft thighs, teasingly revealing her skin to him.

He took a moment to take in the sight of your bare body and the lace pair of black panties that adorned her bottom half. A weighted, eager breath escaped his lips as he pushed your thighs open slowly, smoothing his lips sluggishly over your inner thighs. He could smell you all over him, and the arousal seeping from your cunt and soaking your underwear.

Choso was losing his mind.

He gradually made his way further toward your clothed heat, elongating the process so that he could absorb as much of you as he possibly could on his own time. The tip of his nose brushed over the lace that stretched over your skin, pecking lightly over where your clit happened to be located.

He knew that he had hit some sort of target when your legs jolted around him. “Is that sensitive too?” he asked and you nodded, breathlessly.

“Yeah, baby, right there,” you affirmed, and something possessive spurring within him had him swiftly dragging your panties off to see more.

A sting of arousal stretched as he shed you of your underwear, leading him to fixate his gaze upon your glistening entrance. He practically salivated, digging his fingers into the outside of her thighs whilst his elbows rested beneath them. He tugged you close so that his breath fanned over your wet pussy. “Gorgeous,” he praised again.

He ducked back down, fingers sinking into the plump flesh of your thighs, and flattened his tongue at the base of her lips experimentally, dragging it slowly along her lips and gathering her wetness on his warm tongue.

God. You tasted amazing.

You mewled out and Choso watched you intently from between your legs, the taste of you so sweet in his mouth. A low, satisfied groan rumbled through his chest and he dove back in with sudden urgency. Your hands flew to his soft brown tangles, gripping tightly as his tongue swirled around your pussy slowly.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as your body surrendered itself to bliss. Choso grunted, his own eyes closing as he licked you out passionately, skin setting itself ablaze as he devoured your fruit with the same intensity that you had taken with him. “Cho, baby, yes,” you begged, fistfuls of his hair scrunched within your fists.

If your words weren’t enough to keep him going, the way you tugged at his hair sent his body into overdrive. Pathetic moans flew from your mouth, leading the half curse to tighten his hold around you and secure your lower half to his face.

His tongue lapped hungrily at your throbbing cunt while his lips smoothed over your clit, sucking you into the heat of his mouth as he took dominance over your weakness. Your legs squirmed around his head, ankles locking over his shoulders and around his neck. He was suffocated by you, happily, both restricting himself and you from escaping.

He was so good at this.

His pace suddenly quickened, tongue darting in and out of your walls as he switched between motions. The sinful sound of slurping echoed throughout your living space, your moans picking up volume along with it.

Choso glided his tongue from your core to the bundle of nerves above it, kissing it gently before taking it between his lips and sucking. You cried out, grip tightening on his hair to the point where it had begun to cause pain, but the pain only made Choso’s dick harder as he sucked graciously onto your delicious clit. He couldn’t get enough.

You started to try to squirm away, for the sensation had begun to prove to be too much. Your legs shivered and your fingers tugged wildly at Choso’s hair. The pale skinned man groaned helplessly in desperate opposition, locking his fingers together over your abdomen so that you could no longer move around. “Please don’t go, baby,” he murmured, muffled by your dripping pussy around his lip. “You taste so good, need to keep tasting you.” The motions of his tongue continued, faster, adding more pressure.

“Fuck, feels so good, Cho,” you exclaimed mindlessly, voice straining into a high-pitched moan.

Choso proceeded faster, gluttonous for your juices and for the sound of his name from your mouth.

You arched yourself further into him, chasing the approach of your incoming high. “‘M ‘so close,” you whined, thighs tightening around his head. “St-Stick a finger inside, baby. Please. Please.”

Choso moaned into you, desperate to oblige to make you feel good because of him. He released one of his hands to creep it back under your thigh. He focused his mouth’s attention solely on your clit while his middle finger slipped past your folds and into the warmth of your dripping cunt. You cried as Choso started at a slow pace, thrusting his finger in and out, a squelching sound accompanying the slurp of his tongue over your messy cunt.

His fingers quickly matched the pace of his tongue, pistoning in and out with remarkable speed. He could feel your slick coating his fingers as your walls quivered around them, unable to hold on much longer.

“Do it, beautiful, please,” he begged, groaning as your pussy bumped to ride against him.

A tingling sensation rose in your lower abdomen as your high came crashing down suddenly. Your grip in Choso’s hair went taut and your legs locked around his head, hips grinding into his face and his now two fingers. Choso furrowed his brows, riding you through his climax as slick dribbled onto his palm and down your thighs onto the couch.

Choso had no intention of stopping even after your orgasm had occurred. His mind had become a puddle, his mouth slurping up your sticky, creamy arousal without a moment’s break. He was obsessed with you, with your pussy, with how it soaked his chin and his fingers and the floor. He couldn’t stop, hungrier than he had been before, nothing but the intoxicating taste of your cunt occupying his head. He snapped his fingers from inside of you and gripped your thighs again, pushing them upward so that your knees dangled by her ears.

“Just let me get a little bit more, sweetheart,” he whispered headedly against your pussy. “So pretty, you taste so good, can’t stop yet. Not yet, please.”

You sobbed, releasing his hair to push at his head, but Choso was a man on a mission. He was enamored by the taste of you, completely whipped by the way your cunt responded to his mouth. Your helpless pussy continued to leak arousal, smearing his face and drooling into the puddle beneath you. His tongue moved faster, and faster, lapping you up for everything you were worth.

Your toes curled and your clit throbbed from overstimulation, tears pooling into the corners of her eyes. Your moans had transitioned into desperate pleas and ragged, messy wails. It drove Choso insane.

“Too much! M’gonna cum again- AH!”

The entire bottom half of your body was shaking, legs soaked, but Choso didn’t care. He wanted to keep hearing you cry for him. He was addicted, starving.

He proceeded his torture, the melodious symphony of your begs filling his ears. He shuddered, dragging his tongue from your sopping entrance back up to your clit in rapid circles. His grip on your thighs was sure to leave marks, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was your pussy in his mouth, responding to him at his will.You were so good, so delicious.

He couldn’t stop.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, a knot building in your stomach along with a foreign urge to pee. You tried once more to scramble away, but Choso’s incredible strength left you completely stuck.

“Choso!” you cried, and with that, you came once again, a stream of liquid flying from your core the moment Choso finally broke away. His chin and neck were sprayed with your squirt, his eyes watching in a trance as it sprouted out and onto his skin. You twitched uncontrollably, tensing until you collapsed back into the cushions, completely spent.

The brunette stood quickly, climbing back over top of you and maneuvering you to lay back once more. “(Y/n)?” he called out, caressing your damp skin and looking over you with worried eyes. You hummed in a trance, peeling your blurry eyes back open to see your boyfriend hovering over you again, his chest and chin dripping with your slick over his flushed skin. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I got carried away. You just tasted so good, baby, I’m sorry,” he apologized nonsensically and you shook your head, smiling gently and reaching for his shoulders. He ducked down for you, allowing your hands to grasp around his neck. He swiped the back of his hand over his chin, eying you worriedly.

“That felt amazing, Cho,” you told him softly, watching the concern melt away to be replaced by bashful pride and longing. “I’ve never felt like that before.”

He cradled your arm to lower it and bring your hand to his lips in a soft kiss. “Really?” his eyes gleamed and you nodded.

“C’mere,” you tugged at him, and he was pressed into you without a second to spare. His lips were hot, the strong scent of you consuming your senses as he kissed you tenderly, smoothing over the aches in your legs and guiding them back around his waist, arms caging either side of your head as your fingers tickled the side of his jaw.

Below, you felt his still hardened length brush against your clit and you jumped, breaking away to look down. Choso caught your gaze and smoothed a hand over your face. “We can stop if you’re tired,” he said to you. “You’ve already done so much.”

You shook your head, holding him close and kissing against his temple. “No,” you denied. “Want you inside me now, Cho.”

How much more sexy could you possibly get?

Choso’s heart was pounding once more, dick jumping in reaction to your words. Violet hues sank into yours as he asked again. “You’re positive, baby?”

“Yes,” you exhaled, kissing the outside of his ear and nuzzling your nose against his skin. “Please.”

You were going to kill him one of these days, he was sure.

He groaned softly, holding your gaze when you pulled back to look at him, eye contact deep enough to cast a peek into the array of stars and galaxies above. You reached your hand down, holding his stare, and gently wrapped your fingers around his dick. His lips parted as you stroked softly, before guiding him toward you. He helped, cradling his weighted cock and aiming it toward your drenched hole, smearing the tip past your lips to find it.

“Oh god,” he sighed. You were so slippery, so welcoming. His eyes bored into yours when he found it, pressing and sliding inside, sheathing his girthy cock into your slick coated heat gradually. You gripped his shoulders tightly, feeling the way his length stretched the walls of your pussy so drastically. You gritted your teeth together, pressing your forehead against Choso’s as he leaned his against yours, harsh breaths meeting each other’s. He trained his eyes on the scene below, his fat cock sinking into your folds, your slick gathering around his shaft the moment he bottomed out.

You moaned out together, pressing in close and entangling your limbs. Choso slammed his lips into yours sloppily, stilling the second he was fully inside of you. “You’re so tight, baby-ngh- hah-!” he exhaled against your lips.

You clenched around him, adjusting to his mass as you swallowed him into you. “Cho-s’big,” you murmured, your words babbling into nonsense.

“Gonna move now,” he warned you, sliding back out slowly, the veins in his pretty cock dragging against your walls. “Gonna- fuckkkk,” he was already pushing back into you, a singular squelch resounding from your connection. “Oh, baby,” he whimpered. “So goodddd.”

“Cho,” you whined, clawing at his toned back. “Keep moving, Cho, I need it. I need you so bad, please fuck me, baby.”

“‘Kay, baby, okay. I’ll t-take it slow, I’ll- mmm… shit…”

He slid back out of you and plunged in again, dragging the motion out so you could feel every inch of him press into you. You moaned, muscles in your face releasing as pleasure overcame your expression, Choso’s hand gripping your waist tightly as he set an uneven, perfect, languid pace. Your heels dug into his lower back, knees bumping against his sides as he thrusted carefully into you, holding you as though you were a piece of glass he was afraid to watch break. You were a mess beneath him, mewling and murmuring nonsense as his loud breaths came down over you, his hair mashing against your forehead before he ducked his head into your shoulder, his back muscles flexing with each thrust of his hot length into your greedy pussy.

“Choso,” you begged, the sensation of his dick filling you up so wholly turning you to sap at his hand, indescribable ecstasy waving over your body and washing away any previous discomfort. Your swollen clit bumped against the ridge of his abs with his thrusts, sending shivers down your spine as she quivered into his mass.

“Nghhh, fuckkkk, y’feel so good inside me, Cho. So good, I can feel all of youuuu!”

Choso was so loud in your ear, panting, choking over his groans, growling, whimpering, moaning. His voice was so hot when desperate for you, rugged and heavy, blazing with the pleasure that overtook him as your walls suctioned around his dick, dragging him in. “I can- ngh- f-feel you too, baby, so good,” he blabbered, kissing across your neck, his hair tickling your chin. Your fingers dragged down his back, eyes hazy as he murmured sweet nothings into you. “So pretty, so fucking pretty. I need you, baby, need to be inside you. Just like this pretty, oh my god…”

He was making love to you so passionately, tucking his arms under and around your waist as you tightened your legs over him, arms wrapping him to you tightly as he speared deep into your walls. The wind proceeded to howl against the window, but neither of you paid the snow any further mind, far too enraptured with the conjoining of your bodies, of your souls, of your love.

“Love you, Cho,” you whimpered, gasping loudly when a sting of arousal pooled from around his dick, dripping over your ass and smacking into his hips against yours lewdly. “Love you s’much,” you cried, moaning louder when his pace fastened.

“Love you too,” he whined into you. “Love you, m-more than anyth’ng, love the way you feel, love your pussy so much, so so much. I love you.”

“I love you!”

You didn’t know how long the two of you were on that couch that night, or whether the storm had passed or not. Skin slapping against skin lifted over the roar of the fire partnered by your escalating moans, which could have likely been heard down the hall in your apartment complex, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was Choso lips crushing against your jaw, murmuring proclamations of devotion and praise over your being and your beautiful pussy, gripping him and dragging two more orgasms out of his body, onto your stomach and deep inside your heat. What mattered was the push of your tits against his pecs as your bodies rocked into the cushions, fucking each other for all you were worth and for all that you mean to one another. What mattered was your breathless pleas, your loving embrace, your second, third spray of fluids over Choso’s abdomen.

What mattered was your love, how beautifully the two of you had consummated it, and how you simultaneously kept each other warm in the midst of the storm.

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