#I hope the dog they hate is doing well | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ceilidho · 4 months ago

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fig. 1. hand in dog mouth | Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Reader

MASTERLIST · AO3

The first time he smells her from inside the woman's locker room, it brings him to a halt. The human voice in his head grows dimmer and dimmer until it ceases to make a sound.

or: the forced mating omegaverse au

tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Omegaverse, Explicit Sexual Content, AFAB Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping, Heavy Noncon/Dubcon Elements

“Fuckin’ gym isnae giei’ me a free month even though ah have tae drive tae practically the other side o’ the country tae get a decent pump in.”

“Mate, I can’t understand you when you get all worked up,” Gaz sighs on the other end of the phone, probably pinching the bridge of his nose. A lot of their conversations end up that way, one of them quickly losing patience with the other until the call abruptly ends.

Johnny drops his gym bag in the back and slams the car door shut, rounding to the other side to get in on the driver’s side.

“Ah said, they aren’y refunding me fer the month even though the other location is on the other side o’ town. That’s a half hour back ‘n forth,” he gripes. The call switches to bluetooth a couple seconds after starting the car, Gaz’s exasperated voice coming from the speaker instead of his cell.

“Don’t you already get a discount?”

“That’s jus’ fer bein’ a vet. This is completely different. It’s gonna be closed fer a month fer renovations. Ah cannae do this fer a whole month.”

“Hey, I know where you live. Aren’t there other gyms around that you could go to instead?”

“Are ye out o’ yer fuckin’ mind, Gaz? Ah’m no’ payin’ ten quid fer a fuckin’ day pass when ah already pay out the nose fer a membership.”

“No need to get mad at me, mate, I’m just giving you suggestions.”

“Well, keep them tae yerself if they’re all that bad.”

“Okay, this has been a great chat. I hope you blow a tire on the way there and try calling me for help so I can ignore it.”

The call ends with a loud beep and Johnny barks out a laugh as he reverses out of his spot, looping out of the lot and onto the main road.

He takes the highway because most of the slush and snow has long been cleaned off, though his wipers pump back and forth furiously to keep the snow flurries from sticking to the windshield. That already sets the tone for his evening. He nearly gets in an accident twice on the way there, everyone losing their ability to drive the second the weather is even slightly bad.

He should just be lucky his gym even has another branch. They could’ve left him high and dry for the month, forced him to go to one the other gyms in his neighborhood that don’t offer the same range of weights and veteran’s discount.

Worse, he could’ve been left with no choice but to use Gaz’s guest pass to his exorbitantly overpriced luxury gym downtown. Even the thought makes Johnny shudder. It could always be worse.

It’s so much more than just the drive that he hates about the other location. Like the first time he came here months ago when an appointment on the other side of town made him think it would be more convenient to pop in rather than heading back home for his workout, the parking lot is packed when he arrives, and he has to circle the lot twice before a spot frees up.

The gym is similarly packed when Johnny walks in, and his mood darkens as he scans the weight section for a free bench. None in sight. Just meathead after meathead lining the far wall, huffing and puffing with each rep, dumbbells scattered around.

Headphones slipped on and music loud enough to make his ears ring, he heads to the treadmills instead. Better to just start his workout like usual and hope for the best.

The air stinks of sweat and hormones, alpha pheromones wafting through the gym and leaving not a corner untouched. It’s one of the reasons he prefers the location closer to his place—convenience aside, his location is mainly frequented by betas and omegas, the odd alpha not having much of an impact on the overall vibe.

It’s not that he doesn’t have plenty of alpha friends (Gaz being just one of them), it’s just that sometimes he likes being the biggest, meanest thing in the room. Keeps him in line. Keeps him from being the stupid shit he is ninety-nine percent of the time, as Gaz would say. He likes to be the only one posturing.

So he doesn’t relish being forced to work out with a million carbon copies of himself. It’s nothing Johnny isn’t used to at least—a decade in the military and a lifetime of contact sport before that had been enough of an education in coexisting with other alphas—but it leaves him on edge, muscles bunching up until his shoulders are nearly up to his ears.

Running loosens him up. Distracts him from the urge to sink his teeth into something tender and shake until it bleeds.

A brisk walk to a light jog to a full on sprint. Tongue suctioned to the roof of his mouth, sharpened canines throbbing. The most natural state in the world—legs pumping under him faster and faster, the faint memory of bare feet on a cold forest floor turning over loose soil with every stride. The steady pound of his feet against the ground rumbling through him.

It’s a pale imitation of the real deal, but the taste of salt and rust on the back of his tongue keep him grounded. The beast in his chest rumbles its approval.

When a bench finally frees up, Johnny has to dash across the gym when he sees another alpha nearby eyeing his spot. He reaches the bench a few seconds before the other man though, slinging his sweat-drenched towel across the seat to claim it as his. The alpha hovers for a tense second, face screwed up in anger and nostrils flared like he might put up a fight for it.

Do it, Johnny almost growls, teeth itching. Try it and see what happens.

Lucky for both of them that the other alpha knows when to cut his losses. He shoulder checks another alpha as he stomps back to the leg press machine and nearly starts a whole other fight, but that’s none of Johnny’s business.

He cringes when he finally looks down at the bench only to find someone’s back outlined in sweat. Entitled shitheads at this gym can’t even be bothered to clean up after themselves.

The noxious miasma of alpha stench would make his eyes water if he weren’t so used to it. Pungent and sharp, like gargling brine.

A month can’t go by quick enough.

He leaves feeling worse than when he came in. Shoulders tight with tension and irritation crackling through him. Doesn’t even bother throwing a halfhearted see you later to the front desk workers on his way out. The height of rudeness. Not even rude so much as just not him; Johnny likes to talk, he likes to be friendly with the staff. It speaks to the anger riding high in his blood that he can’t even pretend.

To make it worse, his car is covered in snow when he makes it back, forcing him to spend an extra five minutes cleaning the shit off before he can finally leave.

It’s untenable. He can mind his ego for a paycheck, but on his own time his patience curls up into a ball in his chest and goes to sleep. It’s not a question of if he’ll lose his temper but when. Inevitable. His pugnacity has always been his downfall; his Achilles’ heel. Always cutting himself down on a sharp tooth.

The rosary beads dangling from the rearview window sway with the car when he takes a tight turn.

“Ah ken,” Johnny mumbles to himself, silver cross glinting under the stoplight. “Ah can do a month. Ah can keep it together.”

The next couple of times are just as bad. It’s always crowded during his preferred usual time and it always stinks, like the staff know they’re fighting a losing battle trying to keep the place clean so they don’t even try.

The sorry fuckin’ state of this place, Johnny thinks in revulsion, sneering down at yet another machine damp with sweat from the guy before him. It takes him a minute to wrestle down the impulse to chase after the other alpha and drag him back by his hair before shoving him face down into the puddle of sweat on the seat he left for someone else to clean up.

Only the threat of being permanently banned keeps his temper in check. That can only last for so long though.

It’s gotten to the point where he seriously considers taking Gaz up on his offer to come with him to the gym downtown. He’s a danger to himself and others here; a walking time bomb rapidly ticking down. Each day, something new tests the limits of his patience, like when he comes in one crowded afternoon only to find all of the lockers taken, the locker room stuffed to the brim with alphas and a few straggler betas.

He sits in his car with the heat on for an hour until the gym clears out, steaming enough to fog up the windows. Nearly turns right back around when he enters the locker room to find it absolutely demolished—damp towels strewn about, shower water all over the floor, and stinking to high heavens of sweat, body odour, and piss.

There’s still a dent in one of the lockers from the brief loss of his temper. He doesn’t cop to it, but he makes a point to only use the lockers on the other side of the room from then on.

He’s desperate enough to join Gaz at his fancy downtown gym all of one time, but the facilities there are so serene and sterile that his skin crawls the moment he walks in. Soothing spa music echoes through the three-story gym (no, wellness centre, the staff correct him at the check-in desk, and Gaz has to kick his bad knee to keep Johnny from howling) and verdant green plants grow from pots placed around the facility.

Like working out in the jungle, he thinks sardonically.

“How can ye even concentrate here?” he asks, aghast, staring at the group of limber, flexible bodies stretching and straining in a group yoga class behind a nearby glass wall. He licks his lips.

Gaz rolls his eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

“Ah’m no’ gonna get kicked out for breathing too loud, am ah?”

“If anything, you’re gonna get kicked out for public indecency,” Gaz sneers, looking down pointedly at Johnny’s open hand inching towards his crotch. “Can you chill out, mate?”

“It’s no’ my fault! They’re arching their backs ‘n pushing their tits out. Ah shouldnae have to look at that when ah’m tryin’ tae work out.”

“Would it kill you to not run your mouth off for five fucking minutes?”

Johnny mimes zipping his lips and then follows Gaz downstairs to the locker room, where the wall-length granite sink and infrared sauna make his eyes nearly bug out of his head.

To no one’s surprise, he doesn’t go back. Gaz doesn’t ask him again either.

An appointment one day pushes his schedule back a couple hours and he shows up later than usual, his teeth clenched tight the whole drive over because he expects the worst. Double the occupants, double the meatheads.

But when he pulls into a near empty lot, the knot of tension in his chest loosens. Only a handful of cars, and most of them are parked near the take-out place at the other end of the complex.

It’s practically a wasteland when Johnny walks in. A few people here and there, but otherwise deserted. Only a single person posted near the free weights.

Even the locker room is more palatable. Freshly cleaned and stocked with new towels. All of the showers have been scrubbed down and dried, the curtains tucked behind the holdbacks and waiting for someone to use them. It’s like walking into a brand new gym.

“Yeah, this is kind of the sweet spot,” a staff member tells him when he rocks up to the desk to ask about it. “We get a lot of alphas that come here right after five, so when it empties out around nine, we have the cleaning staff come in to sanitize everything.”

“Well shit,” he laughs, pushing back from the desk and lacing his hands behind his head. “Guess yer gonna see me more often.”

True to his word, he starts showing up later and later, the streetlights plump and gold when he swerves into the parking lot and parks in the middle of two spots purely because he can. There’s a new bounce to his gait, a pep in his step.

It fucks up Johnny’s schedule for a bit, but it’s well worth getting home well after midnight if it means that he gets the gym to himself. No one to complain when he groans and pants through each rep, sweat dripping from his face and body onto the floor, weights slammed against the mat with a loud thud every time he finishes a set.

(In truth, he’s no better than the alphas that plague the gym during the evening hours, but he’s long made peace with being a hypocrite.)

For a moment, it seems like life will at least be bearable until the month is over and he can go back to training at his regular gym. All he has to do is wait it out.

When it first catches his nose, he splinters down the middle.

It happens when Johnny’s on his way out for the night, muscles warm and only slightly sore, the kind of soreness that’ll dissipate by the time he flops into bed. It’s later than usual—closer to one than twelve, and he’ll feel it in the morning when he’s forced to get up at his usual hour—but there’s hardly anyone else in the gym and for that, it’s worth it.

The strap of his gym bag digs into his shoulder as he tosses a hand up on his way, saying goodbye to the beta manning the front desk on his own. A shame that he’s stuck on his own all night. It would drive Johnny crazy to be stuck at work with no one to talk to—it’s one of the reasons that he followed Gaz into private security when they both got out of the service.

He turns around, about to step out of the gym, when a peculiar smell tries to sneak past him. A slippery thing, silverfish quick and just as conspicuous.

He catches it though. Hunting dog with a purebred snout, he sniffs it the second it wafts under his nose and goes ramrod straight, egress forgotten.

The door to the women's locker room is closed, but he can smell the faint traces of the omega’s scent clinging to it. She must have touched it on her way out. Must have placed her palm against the door and shoved. The alpha beneath his skin that wears his face stills as well, everything vanishing into the singular nature of the scent emanating from the locker room door.

In twenty-nine years, he’s never felt so—

(unmoored, untethered

sinking into it like a stone, not coming apart but unraveling altogether—)

He breathes in again and it’s fainter now, but he can still smell it. Candy pink frosting, so sweet that his teeth hurt and his dick throbs. Juicy like a ripe peach waiting for his teeth. It wafts from the women’s locker room, so subtle that it’s clear that whoever it belonged to is long gone. He must have just missed her, an hour separating them at most.

It’s like nothing he’s ever smelt before. No omega in heat has ever made his head spin like this, every inch of him attuned to a single scent. Even slick on his tongue has never made him feel like this, rut thundering through his bones and snapping him into a new shape.

The hunger shifts from his throat to his stomach, settling in deep. And the beast under his skin that wears his face opens its maw, ropey strands of spittle stringing between its teeth.

“Hey man, you good?”

Johnny blinks, looking over his shoulder to find the guy at the front desk frowning at him. It snaps him out of whatever spell he’d been under. His alpha recedes beneath his skin again, hungering but quieter.

“Uh…” he clears his throat, pulling the strap of his bag back up onto his shoulder from where it slipped down. Gives the guy a thumbs up. “Yeah. Sorry—lost my train o’ thought.”

The employee stares at him for a beat before mumbling, “Okay…” under his breath and looking back down at the computer.

Johnny stares at the door for another few seconds before finally leaving.

He sweats all the way home. Worries, wonder, and woes. Blinks and suddenly his exit is next, another car behind him honking when he changes lanes abruptly without signalling. Haud yer wheesht, he thinks and flips the other driver off for good measure.

At home, he paces the length of his house thinking about that omega’s scent until it’s time for bed. Then he tosses and turns until his sleep grows profound and swallows him whole like Jonah. Into the belly of the beast. Nothing to do but let it spit him back out like a peachstone.

Then morning comes and his jaw clicks when he yawns and his bad knee hurts.

But worse than the snow pelting his windshield on the drive to work and worse than the cold stinging his face when he parks and stops for his morning coffee is the memory of that smell.

It’s not as if he doesn’t have any experience with omegas. Despite growing up under the thumb of four alpha sisters, Johnny’s been popular with omegas his whole life. His history with them is an assortment of sordid trysts and quick flings, good enough to scratch an itch but not enough to make him want to bite and keep.

Sticky, messy, syrupy ruts spent buried between an omega’s soft thighs, gorging himself on slick and pussy; nudging his cock against pillowy lips and then thrusting down their throat, hand palming the base of their skull to hold them in place.

It’s always been like that though. One and done; a couple days at most to work through the worst of his rut and then out the door, a messy kiss for the road before whistling his way home. Johnny’s good for that. A romp in the hay, a roll in the sack. Generous with his fingers and mouth and cock.

He’s never craved an omega like this though, never fevered like he fevers now. Itched like his skin was turned inside out in his sleep.

Waking up in the middle of the night panting, the covers under him drenched with sweat and his knot throbbing in his hand, already swollen and aching. Fisting his cock until he has no choice but to roll over and bury his teeth into his pillow, humping the mattress frantically until he comes, eyes watering with the force of his orgasm.

No tonic for this ailment. It simmers in his blood, infatuation decocting into full blown obsession.

Brontide as leitmotif and it rumbles in his ears.

Wandering through the city punch-drunk, always waiting for it to catch his nose somewhere else. In line at a salad bar, always a head taller than everyone else (which he’s still getting used to, which is still a strange new fact of civilian life); at a local venue with Gaz for a concert, scenting the air for any sign of them; seated at the back of the coffee shop across the street from the gym, eyes trained on the door.

Waiting. Always waiting.

And, hungering like a starved dog.

Saliva pooling in his mouth when he thinks of what it’ll be like when he finally has them under him, desperate and cloying and wet.

Other omegas smell sickly to him now, off somehow. A facsimile of what he knows is out there waiting for him. He’s not down for a quick fuck anymore. A hand on his chest and doe eyes blinking up at him makes him shudder now, grimacing down at the omega trying to compete for his attention when out there there’s—

His omega.

Just for him. Made to take his knot and clench around it and squeal when he pumps them full—

Hishishishishishis.

So he shrugs her hand off and sends her on her way.

Johnny spends weeks trying to line up their schedules—his and that elusive omega’s whose scent still permeates the gym even though he never actually sees them in the flesh—to no avail. Even though he’s there waiting at the gym nearly every day, they must stagger their visits. Worse, they seem to come at irregular hours; some days, Johnny shows up and though he can smell the omega’s scent, it’s flat, stale. Like they’ve been gone for hours, ages. Only the oil from their hands still embedded in the dumbbells on the rack.

He doesn’t even care if anyone’s watching when he brings one up to his nose and breathes in.

Then abruptly, the scent disappears, and with it, his soundness of mind.

A week gasping for air, flopping belly up. Breathing in nothing, not even the old, stale scent of his omega because they’re gone suddenly without warning. The first couple of days are manageable only because he doesn’t notice it at first, used to his omega taking a couple days off at a time to rest and recover, but then two days stretch into three. And then into four.

Johnny’s long thought of himself as wild and self-reliant, not accountable to anyone or anything apart from himself. It takes four days to obliterate that notion.

On the fourth day, he wakes up and his agony crawls out of his mouth on spindly legs.

It follows him to work and back, an ache between his shoulder blades and a gnawing, wretched hunger for something he can’t have because it’s beyond his grasp. Smoke now, lost in the ether. He drives across town before and after work, hoping that they’ll suddenly reappear and set his mind at ease, but the gym only smells of alpha funk and his own souring mood.

Too long without it. He’s nothing but a shell of himself in its absence, without the scent of his omega to calm him down, and it makes Johnny realize that he wasn’t doing well on his own before but just barely surviving. Barely keeping his head above water.

Ghost hauls him out of a bar by the scruff of his neck on Saturday night when he almost starts a fight, and only sinking his canines into the other alpha’s forearm calms him down. He slumps forward in the bigger man’s hold and whines when Ghost strokes a hand down his back and murmurs something vaguely soothing in his ear, his words muffled by the mask. He even lets Ghost drag him back home and curls up on his couch until a balled sock hits his head and he slinks into Ghost’s bedroom, dragging his feet the whole way.

His longing is excruciating. Pathetic. Like a dog with its own empty bowl in its mouth begging for scraps.

Gaz still calls every day because they’ve been joined at the hip since they first met almost a decade ago and it’s not long before he picks up on the shaky note in Johnny’s voice, stilted conversations becoming wholly incomprehensible. Even Price calls him towards the end of the week to ask if he’s doing alright. No, sir. Yes, sir. Ah’m fine, sir.

“Was it Gaz who snitched?” Johnny gripes, cutting a side-eyed glare at the alpha on the bench next to him curling sixty pound weights and groaning like he’s getting sucked off at the same time. Still no sign of his omega.

“Well, it wasn’t Simon.”

That makes him snort. Last time he tells that traitor a goddamn thing about his life.

Absence does not make the heart grow fonder. It makes the world seem fetid and bland, and he looks out at it through dull eyes, anger kindling inside. Makes his stomach cramp like there’s nothing in it. It takes the sheen out of an oil spill, leaving only the mess and rot behind.

And then suddenly it’s back like nothing happened, stopping him in his tracks as he walks into the gym. They must have gone out of town for the week, on vacation or visiting family, something so trivial that he’d laugh if his innards weren’t char and ash. If his alpha weren’t half-feral, blotting out his thoughts for hours at a time, all instinct and anger and teeth taking over until he regains clarity and the sky is dark.

It nearly brings him to his knees when he walks into the gym and the smell of his omega blooms bright and nacreous. The gym staff eye him with growing uncertainty, but he’s hardly the most concerning customer at a big box gym (last week someone locked themselves in one of the bathroom stalls with a knife), so they leave him to his own devices when he’s finally able to move again.

His omega isn’t there, of course. Johnny can tell from a quick glance around the gym and a sniff of the air. But they were, and that’s all that matters.

Their reappearance sharpens his resolve. Runs it against a whetstone, his time of waiting coming to an end. He rolls his shoulders back and puffs his chest out in anticipation. It can’t come soon enough.

Nothing stays silent for long when a wolf is watching from the shadows. Eventually it has to make a sound.

It’s quiet in the gym at two a.m. (a far cry from his usual time, but the hunt demands sacrifice), only the sound of a single treadmill whirring and shoes hitting the belt disturbing the near silence.

Johnny smells you the second he walks in. It punches him right in the chest when he inhales and the ripe, sticky scent of his omega flows into his lungs. Mouth watering on instinct. Rutilant eyed, he tilts his head wolf-like and stares down towards the other side of the gym where a pretty thing fiddles with the settings on the treadmill, settling into a light jog.

He’s buried under an avalanche of want so powerful and so swift that it collapses him down to base instinct. Thoughts disconnected and hazy, blooming like a bruise in his head.

Shouldnae be here, he wants to croon in your ear while he holds you down, almost swaying on his feet at the thought. Should be back in my bed at home takin’ my dick so deep in yer gorgeous cunt that ye can taste my cum on the back of yer tongue—

The employee manning the front desk doesn’t even look up when Johnny scans his pass and pushes through the turnstile, flipping to the next page of the magazine open in front of him.

It’s better that way. Johnny doesn’t know what he’d do if someone tried to stop him or get in his way.

The gym is deserted at this time of night, only the single treadmill in use and someone that passes him on their way out, a gust of wind at Johnny’s back signalling their departure. Everything always works out in his favour. He suffers for it, but God rewards him for his patience.

He takes a seat on the closest available training machine and doesn’t even pretend to use it. Johnny’s never been much of a performer anyway. Instead, he drops his gym bag down on the floor beside the chest press machine and leans forward, elbows resting against his knees.

He’s lucky that you’re too concentrated on your workout to feel the heat of his stare. Your phone rests on its side in front of you, an episode of a show playing to distract you while you run. Earphones in to block out the noise. He knows Ghost would tell him to correct that. Can’t have his omega distracted while alphas lurk nearby waiting to dig their teeth into the supple lump of flesh sitting tantalizing just below the collar of your shirt—

A bead of sweat runs down his temple and his dick twitches in his sweats.

There are cuffs in his gym bag. Tools of the trade. It’s not as innocent as he lets himself think, but they’re there in case things go sideways. Sideways like if you take one look at him and run the other way when you notice the way his half-lidded eyes barely blink as he stares at you.

And he can’t have that. Not now that he’s found you.

His patience is unwavering when the circumstances call for it. It’s a skill he picked up in the service, learning to channel all of the frenetic energy coursing through him into a tight point at the back of his mind, compressing it all down to a singularity that later he’ll allow to expand and burn itself out like a dying star.

Not now though. Now he sits and he watches and he waits.

He stares at your ass while you run, crossfaded on his alpha’s slabbering hunger and his own need to wrench those leggings down your hips. When he has the luxury of time, he’ll tie you to his bed by your wrists and ankles, belly down to make it easier on him, and sink his teeth into the flesh of your ass until it’s tender to the touch, until even ghosting his hand over your ass makes you squirm and weep.

Even the thought has a growl rumbling at the back of his throat.

You’re not a very fast runner, but you’re quick enough. Like a rabbit, Johnny thinks and nearly laughs at his own joke. A distracted one at that, too concerned with what’s in front of you to notice what’s lurking right behind.

No matter. He sits and he waits.

Eventually, the treadmill starts to slow down, and with it, you. Panting to catch your breath. Fingers trembling when you pause the video on your phone and scrub a towel down your face to wipe off the sweat.

And for once the entire gym smells of nothing but a honeyed sweetness. Spun sugar and strawberry Angel Delight. Intoxicating and heady. It permeates the building, dragging him deeper into a drugged haze, dulling his senses, plugging his ears with cotton until the only thing he can hear is the sound of your rabbit-quick heartbeat going bump-bump-bump in your chest.

You must have been finishing your workout with a light jog because when the treadmill comes to a complete stop, you take another second to catch your breath and then step off to the side, draping your towel around the back of your neck and heading for the locker room.

Johnny feels himself rise to his feet but there’s no consciousness behind it. No intent beyond primordial reflex, prey drive kicking in when you try getting away. He forgets about everything else—the employee at the front desk, his gym bag next to him. His knees don’t even crack for once, the movement fluid, and when he follows you towards the locker room, his feet hardly make a sound.

It’s to his advantage that you haven’t noticed him yet, but he’ll deal with that soon enough. The locked room door swings shut behind you and there’s a second where he hesitates, better thoughts creeping past his alpha to whisper in his ear that he doesn’t have to do it this way. He’s never had trouble with an omega before—why use force now?

And then he hears a locker slam shut on the other side and instinct takes over.

You’re half-undressed in the middle of the locker room when he walks in, clad only in your panties and bra, and his world narrows down to that moment. Everything in his life has led him to this. Like a red sea parting; the universe suddenly giving him a sign, beckoning him forth.

The door swings shut behind him and your ears twitch at the noise.

He’s done this before in another life. Three strides and he slips right up behind you, arms winding around your front to pull you into his chest and covering your mouth with his hand. You freeze for a split second before going haywire, flailing in his hold, his hand muffling your screams.

“Shh, it’s just me, doe,” Johnny shushes you, arms constricting around you. Relishing the feeling of your body against his, warmer and softer than he imagined.

You shriek behind his hand, twisting in his hold and trying with all your might to break free. Simple thoughts for simple creatures. Even when you try to bite his hand, Johnny only coos, cock swelling at the feeling of your tongue on his skin. The little kittenish licks just rile him up. He likes it less when you try to headbutt him, narrowly missing his nose when you throw your head back.

When he dips his nose into the crook of your neck, he can’t help the growl that slips out of him.

“Enough o’ tha’,” Johnny growls, words reverberating with his annoyance.

The sound makes you still, prey instincts as sharp as his. Smart girl. You know when not to push your luck. He’s bigger and stronger, and his teeth are precariously close to your mating gland, which sits nestled in the crook of your neck.

He breathes in. Your scent is strongest there, at the base of your neck. A delicate layer of skin and then underneath it, your blood sings. Whispers praises high and sweet to him. A shuddering breath out.

You mumble something behind his hand. Tremble violently, your nails digging into his forearm with a biting sting.

He shushes you again. “No’ here, baby—gotta take ye somewhere more private.”

He pays no mind to the way you resume your screaming behind his hand as drags you deeper into the locker room and away from the door. Hardly needs to use any of his real strength, only a fraction of it. The fight you put up would almost be endearing, would almost make him go thatta girl and nip at the tip of your nose, if not for the way it triggers his instincts, an innate urge to dominate you into submission.

It isn’t hard to wrestle you to the floor in the showers. Like play fighting, all bark and whine and keen, teeth snapping an inch from his nose until he pins you under him, snarling right in your face until you submit. That gets you to stop making a fuss. The last thing he wants is to deal with a front desk employee trying to play the hero by pulling him off you. Not that anyone could. He’d rather this not end in bloodshed.

“Tha’s better,” Johnny growls. “Jus’ be nice, a’right?”

You shiver at his words, eyes wide and petrified, darting all over his face. Even tinged with your fear, how could he not preen under your gaze now that you’re getting a proper look at him? He knows what he looks like—rugged and strong, mohawk recently cleaned up and beard freshly trimmed. Not a behemoth like Ghost, but big for an alpha, broad shouldered and beefy.

Big for an alpha in a couple different ways, he leers.

“Don’t hurt me,” you whimper, and that breaks his heart. How could he ever? How could he ever look at something as perfect as you and want to ruin it? His chest aches at the thought.

“No, baby,” he whines, nuzzling his nose into the side of your face. “Ah would never, baby, never. Dinnae be scared. Ah’m no’ gonna hurt you, doe.”

He drags his nose down the length of your head, running his tongue over the rounded corner of your jaw. Your sweat tastes of wet roses and tart jam. Still intoxicating, but wrong, sour and sodden with fear. It makes his skin itch and his shoulders tense. You shouldn’t be scared of him; his omega should never be scared of him.

“Ye cannae smell it, doe?” he asks, pressing a soft kiss into your neck, lingering there so he can feel your pulse flutter against his lips. “Ah can… Cannae smell a damn thing else when yer around. S’all ah can think about.”

“What are you talking about?” you whisper, so frightened that you can barely squeeze the words out, fear choking you. He can’t stand it. The thought that you might find him dangerous makes his throat burn, agony ripping his chest open and yanking his insides out.

He braces himself up on his forearms and forces his hand under your head, lifting your head up off the tile floor.

“How do ah smell, doe?” Johnny rasps, shoving your face into his neck and holding you there until you have no choice but to inhale. He feels the way you shudder when you do, hands spasming against his chest. “Smells good, doesn’t it? Just breathe it in, doe.”

You do, shakily. Then a deeper inhale, filling your lungs with his scent.

“I—oh god—” you groan, your hands suddenly fisting in Johnny’s shirt and dragging him closer.

“Jesus,” he curses through clenched teeth, dizzy with lust. He goes with it, laying more of his body weight on top of you, hind brain taking over.

A long, deep inhale. Your nose digs into his neck. “What is that?” you whine.

“S’the best thing in the fuckin’ world.” An understatement. Johnny’s eyelids fall shut when your tongue pokes out to lightly graze his neck.

So much pent up emotion and anguish and want only for it suddenly—

stop.

Motion succumbing to instinct, to fate. Everything else is collateral damage when fate gets in the way.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, scent ripening, fear replaced with something else—still sharp, but charged. Hesitant because you shouldn’t want this—it shouldn’t even be a thought in your head to indulge the strange man who wrestled you to the floor and forced you to scent him, but then you get a good whiff of him and that thought shakes like television static, like a mirage, like a glass surface wobbling right before it breaks—

When he pulls back, the world is different.

You’re glassy eyed, so pliant now that he could do anything to you, anything at all. And then his eyes dip lower.

He cups your neck with a clammy hand and strokes a finger over the lovely gland at the crook of your neck. It’s warm to the touch.

“Look a’ this,” he breathes, awed. Your hand flies to his wrist, fingers barely able to wrap around it.

“D-don’t touch it,” you choke out, swallowing harshly. It has to be sensitive. Still, Johnny can’t keep from stroking his finger over it again, soaking up the way his touch makes you shiver. Poor thing, gone so long without your alpha’s touch.

“Ah cannae help it, doe,” Johnny whispers. He switches to his thumb, rubbing the pad of it over your gland until you whine and squirm, eyebrows drawn tight together. “Does it hurt, baby? Do ye need me tae make it better?”

You whine, trying to weakly bat his hand away. “N-no, that’s for my alpha—”

“Aye, tha’s right.” His eyes gleam fulgurite under the fluorescent lights. “Fer yer alpha.”

He digs his thumb in harder until your mouth opens on a silent cry.

His alpha drools a messy puddle beneath his skin, jowls sagging. It stares without blinking.

It’s different than lust or bloodthirst. Darker; deep-seated. He’s never felt this way before, and, if his gut feeling proves true, he never will again. It’s like looking down a vast, dark hall, and seeing only one way out.

A damp shower room floor in a locker room is no place for him to take his omega for the first time, but he couldn’t lift himself off you if he tried. His muscles feel far too heavy, like lead weights dragging him down, the gravity stronger here somehow.

“Let’s get this off,” he murmurs, sitting back on his haunches.

“Wait—wait, not here, alpha, please—”

Your protests fall on deaf ears. He wrenches your bra over your head, mindful not to let the back of your head smack against the tile floor. “Gentle, gentle—there we go. Tha’s a good girl.”

Your panties come next, stripped off and tossed elsewhere. His lips follow the path of his hands, sucking kisses into your hips and thighs until your fingers thread into his hair and yank. He yelps, scalp tingling with pain.

“Do tha’ again, doe,” Johnny purrs, shuddering when you do. Eyes rolling back in his head.

His world tilts on its axis when he forces your legs apart and stares at the perfect slice of heaven between your thighs.

“Doe.” Voice broken, shredded. Running his thumb up the seam of your lips and moaning when your hole clenches at his touch and a drop of slick leaks out. “Oh, doe…she’s so…”

Too awestruck for words. Language is beyond his grasp, too inadequate for the feelings coursing through him. Lacklustre, diaphanous thing. There’s no way to describe the feeling of leaning forward and touching his lips to yours, angling his head to give her a proper kiss, one with tongue and feeling. She kisses him back just as passionately.

The taste of you is incomparable. He can’t believe he ever thought there was a world where he could subsist on just the smell of you. Impossible now that he’s had you on his tongue. He runs it up the seam of your pussy, the flat of his tongue spread wide to catch every honeyed dewdrop clinging to your skin, sucking each fold into his mouth to be extra thorough. The pearl sitting nice and pretty at the top gets a wet kiss for waiting so long for his touch.

He pulls back for a second to catch his breath. “So pretty, baby,” Johnny whines, pulling the hood of your clit up with his thumb and sucking her into his mouth.

“Oh my god—”

He buries his face into your cunt, the bridge of his nose wedged against your clit and making you howl. He doesn’t budge even when you practically wrench his hair out by the roots, too committed to making your pussy squirt all over his face. Not an easy task with the way you keep trying to push him away from your cunt, but Johnny’s always risen to any challenge.

You howl when he wedges his tongue in as deep as it’ll go, thighs clamping around his head. Not a bad way to go, Johnny thinks in a daze, chin wet with your juices and nose nuzzling your sensitive little clit, making your whole body jolt. He can tell you’re close by the way your thighs spasm and your scent goes marzipan sweet, so lush and rich that his swollen cock leaks in his sweatpants.

It’s easy to get lost in your pleasure; Johnny feels it like it’s his own, his low back aching with the force of your impending orgasm. He misses your clit too much to let her get lonely though, so he lets go of your hip to push a couple fingers into your hole instead of his tongue.

“C’mon, doe, lemme see ye come,” he whines into your pussy, thrusting all three fingers into your hole, half-lidded eyes with blown out pupils watching the way your pussy gobbles them up. “Just like tha’—oh, there we go, baby, oh my god, come on, yes—lemme have it, doe—”

Your release is wet on his hand and all over his face. Little pussy still milking his fingers, the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

A hush falls over the room, the moment almost devotional. He thinks you might be crying, but it’s hard to tell because the blood in his ears is too loud and his hand is wet with your come and he wants nothing more than to do it all over again until you can’t even talk.

He rises to his feet in a daze, a deep red flush high on his cheekbones. His shirt comes off first, pulled over the back of his head and tossed behind him; his sweats are similarly discarded, tugged down and kicked away until you’re staring up at him in all his hairy, naked glory, cock flush with blood and heavy, drooping away from his stomach.

He laughs when he notices where your gaze has dropped. “Like what ye see?”

“I don’t know about this—” you start, but he pays your words no mind.

“C’mere,” he growls, suppressing the urge to wince when he drops to his knees again.

Johnny hooks an arm under your low back, hoisting your hips up until your ass rests against his thighs, making your back arch. It thrusts your tits up towards his face and he nearly goes cross-eyed staring down at your cute little nipples. They look lonely too.

He gets distracted again, forgetting about sinking his cock in your cunt in favour of hunching over to get his mouth on your tits. Sucks one until it's hard and pebbled against his tongue and circles his tongue over the soft areola skin, completely forgetting about your other breast. It’s hard to pull himself off.

You yelp when he bites down, not hard enough to hurt, but deliberate enough to tick you off.

“That’s too rough!” you hiss, grabbing him by the hair again.

“Sorry,” Johnny gasps. He nuzzles between your breasts, practically purring. “Ah’m so sorry, doe, ah couldnae help myself…”

Puppyish, he leans up to bunt his head under your chin, shuddering when your fingers loosen and hesitantly scratch his head.

“…Okay…” you murmur, overwhelmed. He ignores you, too content with nuzzling into your neck while you run your nails over his scalp.

Being this close to you after weeks of nothing is almost enough. The air reeks with your scent. If it weren’t for the ugly, festering ache in his belly, he’d be tempted to skip straight to this. Roll onto his back and pull you onto his chest, press his nose to the crown of your head and breathe in until it lulls him right to sleep. Maybe get a good belly scratch at the same time.

Then he inhales and the scent of your come on his chin makes his spine go stiff. Drool leaks from the corner of his mouth.

It can’t wait anymore. The thing under his skin shakes with hunger, its greed a ravenous, frothing appetite that goes mindless when it waits for its food. Do it. Do it now.

He braces a hand against the tile floor to lift himself up and pets your cheek with his free hand. “Ah’m gonna put it in now, okay, doe?”

And he means it too, stomach cramping with eager anticipation, knot already filling up at the base of his dick—still small enough to pop it into your hole, but not for much longer—because it’s everything he’s dreamt of since he first caught your scent in the air.

That must not be the case for you.

When you twist onto your belly and try to scramble away, he stares dumbly for a second before seeing red. Johnny crawls after you, dragging you back by your ankle when you get a bit too far away and flipping you over again. You hiss when the back of your head smashes against the floor, hands reaching up to cradle it instinctively.

You get it snarled right in your face, his anger erupting out of him like a geyser, like a dense fog rolling down from the mountains and spreading to everything below. “Ye dinnae fuckin’ move.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you breathe.

Even consumed by rage, he can smell your terror. Putrid, not the soft sweetness of your usual scent. There’s pain there too, and it makes his muscles tense like he’s ready to spring. It’s what brings his alpha to the surface, the scorch of anger cooling slowly as you lie there trembling.

It doesn’t feel good, but he can’t—he can’t let you go.

His hands flutter over your face, squeezing your cheeks and leaning down to plant kiss after soft kiss on your lips. “Doe, please, ye cannae do tha’…ah wanna be gentle, but ah cannae control myself if ye—” Johnny can’t bring himself to say it, the image too painful to contemplate. There’s no reason on Earth that his omega should be trying to run away from him.

“O-okay, alpha…I…I’ll be good.”

His self-control is hairstring thin. “Yer just nervous, right? Tha’ why ye tried tae run?”

“I-I’m just nervous, alpha.” It’s a neat trick, repeating his words back to him in order to calm him down. It works.

His chest deflates as he kneels there over you. Johnny stares into your eyes a few seconds longer, a subtle reminder not to fucking move, before he sits up again, rolling his shoulders back and tugging your lower half in again.

This time when he notches the head of his cock against your entrance, you whisper oh god oh god oh god to yourself but you don’t try to run. It must seem inevitable—no way to fight him off or talk him out of it because there’s a film over his eyes that reflects nothing back.

And then he slowly sinks his cock into you, your hole stretching around the mushroomed head. His jaw rolls on a shaky exhale.

Something in him cracks wide open and—

something ugly slithers out.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, voice cracking. His cock sinks in another inch, warm, wet heat sucking him in. “Jesus, doe, ah cannae fuckin’ breathe—”

You flex your hips at his words, ankles digging into the divots above his arse and pulling him in until he suddenly bottoms out, cock stuffed to the root in the warmest, snuggest cunt he’s ever felt. It nearly makes him go mad; he gets so close to it that his face goes numb, the blood pounding in his ears. He curls over you, a string of curses slipping out of his mouth.

You’re there when Johnny opens his eyes again, damp hair haloing you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, a tear slipping past your waterline and dribbling down your face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me—”

“It’s okay, doe.” His hands run up and down your sides, soothing you. “S’just instinct. Ye cannae help it any more than ah can.”

Your walls squeeze around his shaft, nerves making you tense up, and Johnny groans, his hand curling into a fist by your head. It takes every iota of his being not to come right then, buried to the hilt in your pussy with your ankles digging into his low back. He nearly does when you whine at him to move.

“Okay, baby,” he breathes.

Johnny tries to be gentle at first. Makes a conscious effort to rock into you with slow, smooth strokes, distracting you with a deep, wet kiss. Lips gliding together, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth only to graze it with his teeth, heat rushing through him when you tremble. Coaxing your tongue into his mouth and then sucking on it.

His control starts to slip when he tries to pull out and your ankles dig into his back, pulling him back in. The force of his next thrust makes your body shift, sliding up the wet floor. Too much. Be gentle. But he can’t—the pressure in his core gets worse the longer he fucks you, an eagerness to reach his end building and building. All he can do is chase it. Bite at its heels.

“Yer so pretty,” he rasps, petting your face with shaky hands and bucking his hips into yours until you can’t hold back your pretty little moans. “Pretty, pretty doe. Ah’ve got ye, love.”

A few more like that, pounding into you until you squeak like a toy and he laughs, breathless and full of mirth. Buoyant. Revelling in the sound of you coming apart under him, all fractured pleas and kiss-swollen lips.

Perfect angel, all sweetness and moans and cream coating his cock, gleaming under the fluorescent lights every time he pulls out.

There’s a white ring at the base of his dick from the mess of your combined fluids. Johnny nearly passes out when he notices.

His bad knee aches from digging into the tile floor. He’ll feel it in the morning when he wakes up with bruises on his elbows and shins, muscles stiff and twinging when he moves, but it’s a price he’ll happily pay to keep his pretty doe on her back with her legs spread.

Any lingering guilt about fucking you on the gross shower room floor evaporates the more you pant and the wetter you get because, he rationalizes, on some level you must want him just as bad. Not with the same fervour, not a bone bright ache that sucks you dry and spits you out like a peach pit, but close enough that you aren’t pushing him away anymore.

He ignores the weak pressure on his shoulders. Pries your hands off so he can pin your wrists together over your head.

“Been lookin’ fer ye fer so long,” Johnny croons. He ruts into you clumsily, losing any semblance of finesse. “Smelt ye weeks ago ‘n knew…knew ah had tae have ye.”

Your eyes fly open, stunned. “Weeks?” you gasp.

“Thought ah’d lose my fuckin’ mind lookin’ fer ye.” His breath comes out ragged. “Couldnae sleep or eat or do anythin’ except jerk my cock raw. Should’ve saved it all up fer ye, but…” his laughter is a deep, brassy thing. “…ye’ll still get a fair share.”

“You’re disgusting,” you moan, and that makes him laugh even more, rutting into you like a beast.

“Christ, doe, keep runnin’ that mouth.”

“You’re a—”

dumb, nasty dog

sick in the head, fucking me with that big, fat dick—

He grunts and his lip pulls back in a mean, crooked grin.

It’s never been like this before. Like someone drilled a hole in the side of his head and filled it up with you. You’re in every crevice of his mind and body, mycorrhizal tendril spreading through him.

“Ah’m gonna ruin yer pretty cunt, doe,” Johnny rasps, neck soaked with sweat and eyes burning hot, pupils blown so wide only a glimmer of blue remains. “Get her nice ‘n soaked with my come.”

“Alpha—” you keen, for lack of anything else to call him and it makes his vision go blank.

That’s the only truth that matters to him. Like a divine calling—his omega begging for him, asking for more more more. It’s as close to love as he’s ever gotten; as close to heaven as he ever will.

Diving headfirst into oblivion. He clamps his hands around your waist to hold you in place and fucks into you with renewed vigour, losing himself in the pleasure. Any coherent thought evaporates, reduced to mindless instinct. His beast and him are indistinguishable; two sides of the same coin; he looms over you Janus-faced, a god of beginnings and endings.

He breathes out heavily through his nose, teeth gritting together and lips pulled into a flat line. So close to it, knot catching more with every thrust, almost too big to pull out.

The smack of his hips against yours fill his ears, drowning out your pleading and keening. Seismic motions churning beneath the tile floor keep a steady pulse. The lewd squelch of your pussy nearly drives him mad—slick running down your thighs, pooling onto the floor beneath you, this place irrevocably changed because of your mating—

If only you’d squirt on his dick too, he could die happy. Scream out alpha, alpha, alpha until you shudder and come.

And you do eventually—milk his dick filthy sweet and cling onto him for dear life, nails scoring red lines into the flesh of his back. His muscles bunching under your touch.

“Fuck, doe,” Johnny chokes, near tears himself. His perfect girl coming all over his cock, eyes rolling back in your head like it’s never been like this for you before. “Tha’s right, tha’s right—such a good fuckin’ girl—oh, baby—”

You need him. No other alpha can take care of you he would. It’s not enough that he fuck you, not enough that he make you come, not enough that he see you through your next heat, he has to—

Take it all for himself, every last fuckin’ inch of you his.

He bears down on you, scooping his arms under your back until there’s no space between you, chests pressed together.

His eyes zero in on it. The nodule of flesh at the crook of your neck. And his teeth itch like they’ve never itched before, too large for his mouth.

“Alpha—” you sob, squirming in his hold. “Alpha—too tight—”

He can’t respond. Mouth full of drool and teeth, fucking you harder than you should be fucked, cockhead trying to kiss your cervix with every thrust. He’d crawl inside of you if he could. His thrusts only slow when his knot finally catches, the pressure making you sob when he tries to pull out and he can’t, stuck inside you. Lazy grinds of his hips now, getting as deep as possible.

It’s a shock to his system so profound that he can’t stop shaking. His first knot—better than a ring, more binding than a marriage contract. The most basic, ancient covenant. Irrevocable.

And—it feels—

Indescribable. His thoughts leak from his ears like tar. Eager, fevered. Eyes fixed on your mating gland, dropping his head to get a better view. Better up close, so close that his teeth graze it every time he pants, so sharp that one wrong move and they’ll slice right through, one twitch and it’s game over—

You mewl and arch your chest, inadvertently thrusting your neck up too, so his canine drags across your gland—

mine mine mine mine mine mine

The beast under his skin has a name and it’s—

mine mine mine mine mine mine

(and his teeth just slipped, he’ll say when you ask)

Ah dinnae mean tae, doe, honest—

But ah’ll take care of ye—

You’ll never understand it, but there’s a beast that lives under his skin and it—

—yearns, craves, hungers, howls like its belly is still empty even after all this time, constantly aching no matter how much it’s fed—

Sometimes Johnny wonders if it’s like this for other alphas. Whether they crave their mates with the same intensity, the same burning need smoldering in their veins. He asks Price once and gets an answer that neither confirms nor denies.

All Johnny knows is that your legs shake when you follow him out of the gym, the employee behind the front desk not meeting his eyes. Better that he not. There’s still blood and come on his chin, his grey sweats stained at the crotch. You’re no better, shirtless under your puffy jacket, hat jammed on a bit too low on your head because he had to be the one to put you back together after taking you apart.

And though he’s sheepish on the drive home—because what’s his is yours now, and what’s yours is his—your car still back in the parking lot until he can get someone to pick it up in the morning, he wears guilt like sheep’s clothing. It doesn’t fit quite right.

“We’ll get ye a nice wedding gift tomorrow,” he placates when you huff, thumbing your swollen bottom lip at the next stoplight. It’s tempting to lean in and suck it into his mouth, even now.

“I’m gonna max out your fucking credit cards,” you mumble, scowling at him. Still, you wrap your lips around his thumb when he slips it into your mouth.

You cup your hand over your punctured mating gland in lieu of a bandage.

Johnny cackles. Man plans and God laughs.

In the distance, thunder rumbles and your head turns towards the sound that only you and he can hear.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #soap x reader #soap/reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader

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rosemaryhoney27 · 4 months ago

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sleepy boy

Danny is tired but happy he told his parents about him being Phantom and they took it surprisingly well. Sure they were sad but accepted what happened. It was all to good to be true so Danny remained on his guard around his parents.

But as time passed nothing happend and his parents became even more supportive of him. After finding out about Danny and how he became a halfa it was easy for the to figure out Vlad after an epic beat down of one Vladimer Masters The Fenton parents forced vlad to use his influence to get rid of the GIW

After all of that Danny finally felt himself relax all the tension left his body and he fell asleep. just a little nap.

At this time, the still unknown king of the infinite realms gained a new power. This is also when Danny begins his sleepwalking adventures.

The first time it happend the Fenton family had no idea what to do Danny had just created a portal in the middle of town and sleep walked right into it and reappeared out of a another portal on top of the school.

The next time it happened, Danny had fallen asleep in Mr. Lancers' class when he suddenly stood up, created a portal, and walked through it while also transforming into his Phantom form. Needless to say, Danny's identity as Phantom was no longer a secret in Amity Park after that.

Danny, of course, has no idea this is even happening. No one has the heart to tell him when he has finally started to relax. The people of Amity Park quickly got used to Danny randomly popping up in places via a portal, so much so that there was a segment called Sleeping Phantom Watch on the news. This was the new normal until one day Danny Portals away, and no one has any idea where he is.

The bat fam had just sat down for dinner when a lazerus green portal appeared in the dining room. Everyone freezes, watching the portal, when a white-haired teen walks out.

Everyone is immediately on their feet, ready for battle,e yelling at the white-haired boy as the portal closes behind him

"what are you doing here" Bruse growls using his Batman voice the boy doesn't respond just stands in place

Damian rushes towards the boy and presses his sword to the intruder's neck. "he asked you a question." still no response

Soon, the boy was surrounded, and they got ready to attack when the white-haired teen let out a loud snore. "Wait, is he..." Tim gets closer to look at the boy and waves a hand in front of the boy's face, who snorts. "He's sleep"

"What, no way " Dick leans forward to see for himself just as the white-haired boy starts walking again and walks straight through Dicks body as if he wasn't even there Panic erupts as Dick pats his body down, shivering "S..so cold"

The boy keeps walking, and they can't grasp him. Then another portal shows up in front of the boy, who walks through it, and it closes instantly after him.

After that, the Bat fam kept seeing the sleep-waking portaling teen all over Gotham.

During one of his sessions, he interrupted the joker who had kidnapped Jason and Damian, but this time, he wasn't alone. Behind him was a tiny green puppy who was pulling on his pant leg, trying to drag the boy back through the portal when it closed, leaving the boy and dog.

The dog seems to cover his snout in frustration, and honestly, Jason and Damian could understand. But of course, Joker had to ruin the mood.

"Well, well, what have we here?" He grins, getting into the boys's faces. "An uninvited guest, how I hate party crashers. How about I introduce you to my friend Pain. Tell me what hurts more. I never get a straight answer." Joker cackles and swings a crowbar at the boy's head

Jason and Damian yell, hoping to wake the boy up as the weapon comes down. A loud growl makes the joker pause before he could land a hit and he looks down to see the puppy growling fiercly at him standing in front of the boy. "Out of the way, mutt!!" Joker yells, kicking at the dog

A move he would quickly regret as the dog grew and grew and grew until it was the size of a large Bear with teeth bigger and longer than jokers arms which was proven as the dog proceeded to tear said arm and crowbar off jokers body

The clown screams in horror as the once tiny harmless looking puppy procedes to tear his limbs off. Soon the Joker was nothing but a head with a body. The dog was about to finish off the joker and bite his head off when the boy starts walking towards another portal.

The dog shrinks and chases after the boy before the portal closes.

Jason and Damian looked down at the crying limbless joker, and Jason burst out laughing, "That was the best thing I had ever seen in my life."

From then on, every time the mysterious sleepwalking boy appeared in Gotham, Jason was there with Damian, offering the dog treats and pets and helping the poor pup take care of his sleeping boy.

As for the rest of Gotham, they, like the Amity parkers, had become accustomed to the boy and his dog magically appearing in random places. No one bothered them, and after what happened to the Joker, none of the other Gotham rouges would even dare touch him if he showed up near them with the dog.

And if the dog wasn't there, well, the giant werewolf and the yeti were enough of a deterrent.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #dpxdc #sleepy danny #danny is tired #batfam #dp cujo #maimed Joker

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holeforzenin · 1 year ago

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A/n wrote this at 5am so I apologize for any errors! <3 also it's poorly written but I hope you guys still like it.

Yk what fucking drives me crazy the most?

Sweet innocent looking men that treats you so well, I'm talking like he writes you cute poems, follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy and gets all flustered and shy when you want to go to Victoria secret to get new bras and panties but he still goes in with you anyways with his hand clinging onto your arm instead of just leaving because anything for you!!. The way his face melts into your hand whenever you'd cup his cheeks, looking at you with those innocent puppy dog eyes then he places a gentle kiss on your hand. Like he's just such a cutie you know? He'd let you do his makeup and let you baby him and feed him. Literally just anything you want he'd do it and lets you do. Whatever makes you happy.

And that same sweet innocent guy would have you against the wall, his strong arms holding you up, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he slams his hips against you, each thrust pushing you higher and higher against the wall as he let you drop back down on his fat cock after, and he's even noisier than you are, loud whimpers and groans escaping his lips as he stares at your face, feeling satisfied and happy that his thick cock is the reason for your cute fucked out expression and sweet moans that are like music to his ears. Your nails leaving long red marks on his shoulders and back that he's sooo proud of having, he loves it when you do that, it's like a reward to him for making you feel good. His big strong arms pressing your legs back even further up so your knees raised up by your shoulders, giving him a deeper angle as his cock brushed against the right spots inside you that made you see stars to the point where you can't even think straight.

"O-oh fuck! baby, need you to cum ple-ase, fuck! please, wanna see you make a mess on my cock please I'm begging you princess", his voice cracks as he whimpers it out to you. The sweet and innocent needy tone in his voice compared to his rough pounding like he fucking hates you and had to prove it was all it took for you to cream around him, nails digging deeply into his back as he's practically making out with your neck, kissing and sucking on the tender flesh, leaving a bunch of purple and red marks that's definitely going to make him all fluttered and shy when he sees them in a few hours, remembering about what happened earlier. His eyes rolling back when he feels you coating his cock with your cream and dripping all over him.

"Ngh! Oh fuck, Tha-nk you! Thank you so much, gon-na cum!". He cries out. Your toes curling as he sped up his pace, hammering his cock in a reckless pace into your poor cunt, his thick cock head kissing your cervix with each one of his deep thrusts as he greedily chases his orgasm. He made sure to have his cock so deep inside of you to the hilt so he can fill you up full of his cum as he painted your tight walls white, thick ropes of cum spurting out of his cock, stuffing your hungry cunt full as he lets out a shaky groan while planting his face in your neck. He starts breathing heavily, panting against your neck as you felt his cock twitching inside of you. And you know what? He slowly pulls it out of you, being sooo careful that he doesn't spill any cum as he grips on your thighs even tighter before getting on his knees and eating all of his cum out of your filthy stuffed cunt like the good boy he is, after all its his mess and well, yours also but he doesn't mind! he just wants to make it easier for you to clean you know? :(

Choso, Izuku, Armin,Yuuta, Zentisu, Kirishima, Yuuji, Kaneki, Toge.

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ittybittyfanblog · 7 months ago

Text

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol. Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue (for the spin-off: click here!)

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night.

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that.

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break.

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?”

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around.

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five.

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much.

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding.

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd.

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal.

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time.

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia?

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend—

Ping!

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart.

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address?

Ah, just like clockwork.

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals—for more than you’d care to admit—to boot up.

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress.

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion.

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain.

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?”

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character.

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man himself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some.

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life.

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well.

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin.

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness.

What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.”

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue.

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means.

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!”

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game, you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different.

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.”

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night.

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face.

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker—then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.”

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%.......

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez—huh?”

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary.

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever.

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock.

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?”

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face.

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter.

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.”

Helplessly, you open your inventory next.

Your jaw drops.

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This—this can’t be real.”

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this—this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada.

Holy shit.

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes.

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?”

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative.

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks.

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose.

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut.

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie.

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk.

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC.

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.”

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #self aware au #sylus qin

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saetoru · 2 years ago

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AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet.

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice.

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions.

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not.

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access.

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard.

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch.

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval.

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it.

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant.

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit.

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst.

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare.

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?”

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him.

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore.

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you.

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody.

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again.

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place.

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this.

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel.

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father.

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know.

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him.

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you.

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress.

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him.

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth.

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t.

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru.

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips.

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you.

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it.

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate.

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words.

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans.

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock.

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his.

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek.

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

#🎃 — kinkteeber !!#teepods.writings #fics.#thirstee!#geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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oikarma · 25 days ago

Text

love in the air

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you take your long-time friend as your plus one to your dad's wedding. you catch the bouquet. maybe that's when you start agreeing with the internet that . . . lando norris is a little more than a long-time friend to you.

a/n: thank you to anon for the request i had no idea they were dating LOL this was so fluffy

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tiktok

@/landossluttywaist I CANT BREATHE LANDO WAS AT THE SAME HOTEL AS ME

user1 you rich rich, then

user2 she probably gets paddock passes for doing her chores user3 guys why are we hating on this girl let her be excited 😭 i would be too

user4 what hotel is it?

landossluttywaist he's gone now (this was as he was leaving) but it was the four seasons in philly

user5 thanks for respecting his privacy and not posting until he left!

landossluttywaist lol i love him but at the end of the day he's just a human who doesn't need people hounding him 24/7

user6 but what is he even there for??? philadelphia??? there's ltr nothing interesting there...

user7 idk bradley cooper is the best thing to come out of that town user7 omg and also they won the super bowl user7 but that was a long time ago user8 maybe he's just an eagles fan

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liked by versace and 7,032,810 others

gigihadid My darling B, what a wonderful thing it is that we found each other. I can't believe we're now married — I'm still smiling, because such happiness carries on for a long time. You are so kind, so sweet, so caring, so utterly magical. I am beyond lucky to have you. Your belief in me makes me who I am today and who I will be. This new chapter will be a long life, full of laughter, full of a new family.

∞ Always, your G.

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yourinstagram i'm so happy for you and dad <33 you are an amazing person and you bring so much light to our family! your dress was gorgeous but even more so was you. hope you have a great time on your honeymoon

gigihadid I love you so much ;) Thanks for coming. There's so much love in the air!! 💐 yourinstagram hey, hey, we talked about this gigihadid I didn't make the rule user1 i love how well they go together user2 bro if my step-mom was gigi hadid. user3 wait wait wait did y/n catch the bouquet??? user4 omg

user5 actually radiant

bellahadid best wishes from your baby sister 💕

gigihadid ❤️❤️❤️ user6 do they know they're real user7 omg bella drop the fit i NEED to know what you wore cause gigi's dress is already blowing all my expectations out of water

user8 man if only bradley had insta

user9 this is how i find out bradley cooper and gigi hadid are dating whaaaaat

user10 me too girl me too

user11 why is this the only post with photos????? i need to see all of it

user12 maybe they agreed not to post until after a certain time or like gigi got to post first cause yk it's her wedding user13 bella posted!

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liked by lando and others

yourinstagram to the two of you 🥂

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user1 omg y/n paints?? did she do that?

yourinstagram yes 🙂‍↕️ i gave it to them as a sort of wedding gift! user1 aww that's so cute thanks for sharing with us <3 it's a beautiful drawing

user2 oh gosh that's such a beautiful place 🥺

user3 y/n were you at the bachelorette

yourinstagram hell yeah user4 we need the photos baddie yourinstagram maybe someday, lol

user5 wait where did they get married

user6 philly, the last pic is where they announced their engagement user5 ohhh no wonder

user7 lando you sly dog why are you in the likes

user8 well they're friends user9 dyt he went to the wedding user10 tbf wasn't he in philly a few days ago it's not crazy

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f1gossipofficial Lando Norris was seen at the wedding of Gigi Hadid and Bradley Cooper.

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user1 I KNEW IT

user2 you guys are crazy 😭 how could you even tell those were him

user3 he's with YN IN ALL OF THEM

user4 where did these even come from

user5 isnt he dating magui??

user6 lando? user5 yeah user6 probably, but he and y/n are good friends user5 shit man they look good together user6 what do you mean these are all 120p quality

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f1gossipofficial Formula 1's YouTube account posted a full video of Y/N Cooper and Lando Norris on a Hot Lap.

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user1 why is this gossip it's literally just a video

user2 the way he looked at her and she started screaming at him 😭 poor guy just wanted some eye contact

user3 she's so precious but jesus the amount of swear words out of that girl's mouth user4 lando wasn't even shocked he was like well lol oops

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yourinstagram lucky

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user1 LANDOS LUCKY CHARM SPOTTED

mclaren might need to keep you around in the paddock more often

yourinstagram 😕 'fraid i have a job

user2 oh she knows shes hot

user3 someone tell her we're not in texas anymore

user4 who cares she served

lando photo credits where??

user5 stop being a pick me lando user6 yn is this man bothering you user7 he just needs everyone to know yourinstagram let me breathe lan i can't like all these comments trashing you fast enough user8 i love her already

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f1gossipofficial Lando Norris and Y/N L/N after the Las Vegas Grand Prix

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user1 shit? shit!

user2 "we're friends" NO YOURE DATING

user3 are we sure that's lando?? it looks like y/n but we can't see the guys face

user4 yeah idk there are plenty of brunettes out in vegas user5 def yn tho shes wearing the same top in her last insta post

user6 she's so glad rn bradley doesn't have insta lol

user7 is gigi going to rat her out??

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you spot him slouched against the side of the taco truck, curls flattened from sweat and his own hands. there's powdered sugar on his lips. his phone's in one hand, the other holding a half-eaten churro.

lando sees you and his face changes.

"you came," he says, voice a little hoarse. "finally."

you walk up, wobbly on your heels, heart all over the place. "yeah. i had to. you were being dramatic."

"i'm hard," he says instantly. "and i missed you."

you nearly trip. "lando."

he shrugs, eyes dragging down your body without shame. "look at you. fuck. that top's killing me."

you’re giggling before you can stop it. "you're drunk."

"so are you. and you kissed me."

"you kissed me first, okay?"

"you were straddling me. in the club."

you pause. "you asked me to sit in your lap. you liked it."

lando nods. "loved it, yeah."

you're both quiet for a second. he's watching your mouth and you're watching the way his chest moves when he breathes. his hoodie's sliding off one shoulder and your fingers twitch like they want to touch him.

"you're so pretty it's making me insane," lando says. "like i want to fuck you and cuddle you at the same time and i don't know what to do about it."

you're breathless. "jesus."

"don't call him." your noses almost touch. "call me."

you laugh into his neck. "you're ridiculous."

"you're glowing" lando mumbles, hands sliding down your sides. "like. actually glowing. i can't believe i've known you this long and didn't do something about it."

you tilt your head back. "do something now."

he kisses you like you're a prize he's earned, slow, filthy, so hungry it makes your knees weak. his hands are all over--waist, hips, ass, back under your top like he needs to feel skin now.

you break away, panting. "lando, we're at a taco truck."

"yeah," he says, mouth all over your jaw. "so hurry up and let's leave. before i do something i'll get arrested for."

you grin. "you're such a slut."

"only for you."

he laces your fingers together and starts walking backward toward the street, still staring at you like you're his first and last meal.

"wait," you say, dizzy from everything. "what about your churro?"

"don't need it," he says. "got something sweeter now."

#formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #ln4 #bradley cooper #gigi hadid #oikarma ᯓᡣ𐭩

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wonsiwon · 2 months ago

Text

rebirth | s.jy

synopsis | after years of fighting and growing apart, your relationship with jake is hanging by a thread. you’ve tried to fix things, but it’s always been one step forward, two steps back. what you’d didn’t expect was that having a baby could be the thing that gives you a real chance at starting over.

pairing | boyfriend! jake x fem! reader

content warning | smut (mdni) + reconciliation + angst + fluff if you squint + unprotected sex + swearing + pregnancy mention

the car was dead silent. you sat there, seething, arms crossed tightly across your chest, staring out the window as the city blurred by. the same damn argument again. you could feel the heat of anger still crawling through your veins.

jake sat next to you, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his shit. his eyes stayed glued to the road, mouth set in a hard line. he hadn’t said a word in at least ten minutes, and at this point, you weren’t sure if he was waiting for you to cool down or just hoping you’d both drop it.

you hated how this always went down. he’d come home late, every time the same excuses, the same apologies that felt like nothing more than words he was saying because he thought he had to. you didn’t know how many times you had to tell him that actions spoke louder than apologies, but he never seemed to hear it.

the worst part was how long it had been since the two of you had spent any real time together. you couldn’t even remember the last time you were happy together, without ending up arguing.

you hated this. hated feeling like the last thing he cared about. but you weren’t sure if he even realized how deep this ran for you. instead, you were here, heading to his mom’s, like everything was fine, like you weren’t both completely pissed at each other. the silence was killing you both.

this morning, you both had woken up calm, but as soon as jake told you to get ready to see his mom, everything shifted. you weren’t angry about visiting her, you were angry because he was so casual about it, like nothing had happened. like last night’s argument didn’t exist. like you hadn’t gone to bed fuming and he hadn’t fallen asleep with his back turned to you.

you weren’t against seeing his mom, but the way he said it so nonchalantly, as if everything was fine, made your blood boil. it wasn’t fine. nothing was fine.

jake slowed the car, pulling into the driveway. you could see his mom’s car parked out front, the same way it always was when she was home and could hear the muffled sound of dogs barking from the neighborhood.

the car stopped, but neither of you moved. you both just sat there.

jake finally exhaled, dropping his head back against the seat. “are you still mad?”

you ignored him, twisting in your seat to check the back. your brows furrowed, eyes scanning the floor before you turned back to him. “where’s the bag?”

jake blinked at you, clearly not following. “what bag?”

you shut your eyes for a second, already feeling your blood pressure spike. “the pink plastic bag for your mom, sim jaeyun. i told you to grab it before we left.”

jake frowned, shaking his head. “no, you didn’t.”

your fingers dug into your arms. “yes, i fucking did. it was on the counter. i literally told you right before we walked out the door.”

jake leaned back in his seat, rubbing his forehead. “well, i don’t remember that. if you told me, i would’ve grabbed it.”

you let out a short laugh, but it wasn’t amused at all. “are you serious? you never listen! like ever!”

jake let out a slow, pissed-off breath. “jesus christ, it’s a fucking plastic bag.”

you turned to him so fast he actually blinked. “it’s not about the bag, dumbass! it’s about the fact that you don’t fucking listen to me. ever. i ask you to do one simple thing, and somehow, it’s too much.”

jake scoffed, shaking his head. “oh my god. here we fucking go.” he unbuckled his seatbelt like he was about to get out, but your patience was officially gone and you threw open the car door before so hard it bounced a little.

“forget it.”

jake let out a heavy sigh, trying to keep himself from saying something worse. you didn’t wait for a response, you slammed the door shut and started walking toward the house. the cold air hit you, but it wasn’t enough to cool the anger simmering under your skin.

behind you, you heard his door open and shut, his footsteps following, but you didn’t slow down.

“are we seriously doing this right now?” jake’s voice was low, frustrated, but not loud enough for anyone inside to hear.

you didn’t answer. you just kept walking.

“jesus christ.” he muttered under his breath, picking up his pace until he was right beside you. “you’re really gonna act like this over a fucking bag? it’s like i forgot your birthday or something. it was a plastic bag.”

that made you stop. you turned on him so fast he actually took a step back.

“stop saying it’s about the fucking bag, jake,” you snapped, your voice sharp but still quiet enough to not cause a scene. “it’s about the fact that you don’t listen. you never listen. and then you act like i’m crazy for being mad about it.”

jake ran a hand through his hair, exhaling, trying to stay patient. “i don’t freaking do it on purpose—”

“but you do it.” you cut in. “over and over.”

for a second, he didn’t say anything. just stood there, looking at you, jaw tight. then, he shook his head and scoffed, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “whatever. i don’t have the energy for this right now.”

you let out a humorless laugh. “yeah? neither do i.”

you turned and walked up the steps, ringing the doorbell before he could say anything else. jake stayed behind you, silent now, probably trying to pull himself together before facing his mom.

the door swung open, and like muscle memory, you forced a smile. it wasn’t real, not even close, but at this point, you were on autopilot. just going through the motions, pretending everything was fine when it really fucking wasn’t.

jake’s mom beamed, her usual warm energy filling the doorway. “well, look who finally showed up!” she said, hands on her hips. “i was starting to think you two forgot about me.”

you forced a smile, stepping inside. “of course not.” you said as you hugged her briefly.

jake leaned down, wrapping an arm around his mom’s shoulders. “hey, mama,” he said, his voice noticeably softer than it had been with you all day.

his mom squeezed him, pulling back with a smile. “it’s so good to see you, jake. you’re looking well.”

he exhaled. “traffic was bad.”

she waved a hand like she didn’t care. “as long as you’re here now. come on in, i made plenty of food.”

jake’s mom, bless her heart, had already prepared for this visit. the whole house smelled like her cooking, and there was a soft hum of background music coming from somewhere in the kitchen.

jake’s mom set down a plate in front of you before taking a seat across the table. “so, how have you been handling everything at home?” she asked, giving you a knowing look.

you glanced at jake for a split second before forcing a small smile. “it’s been fine. same old, you know.”

she hummed, cutting into her food. “jake tells me he’s been working late a lot.”

you let out a small, dry laugh. “yeah, you could say that.”

jake glanced at you, but you ignored him, taking a sip of your drink instead.

his mom sighed, shaking her head. “that boy works too much. i keep telling him he needs to slow down before he burns himself out.”

you set your glass down. “i’ve tried telling him the same thing, but he doesn’t listen to me either.”

his mom nodded, giving jake a pointed look. “i just don’t want you to overdo it, honey. you’re working all the time, and you’re not getting any younger.”

jake exhaled through his nose, already over this conversation. “i’m fine, mom.”

but she wasn’t done. “you know, speaking of…” she said, tilting her head slightly, “when are you two going to give me a grandbaby?”

jake choked on his drink, coughing into his sleeve. you froze for half a second before blinking.

his mom just grinned. “i mean, i’d love to spoil a little one before i’m too old to chase after them.”

jake dragged a hand down his face. “mom—”

“what?” she said, all innocent. “it’s a fair question.”

jake barely reacted at first, just sat there with his hands on his lap, slouched in his seat. but then, as his mom kept talking, he glanced at you. it wasn’t much, just a quick look, like he was expecting you to roll your eyes or shake your head, the same way you did whenever his mom brought up something ridiculous.

but you didn’t.

you just sat there, eyes fixed on your plate, quiet. and something about the way you looked, not pissed, not annoyed. in your eyes there was something different in them, something softer. a little flicker, a kind of sparkle he couldn’t quite place.

had you thought about it before?

that was a stupid question. obviously, you had. but had you thought about it with him?

he barely heard what his mom was saying anymore, his focus entirely on you. his fingers twitched slightly against his thigh.

you must’ve felt him staring because you finally turned your head, locking eyes with him. for a moment, neither of you spoke.

your brow lifted slightly and jake blinked looking away fast. he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “mom, can we just eat?”

his mom laughed, shaking her head. “alright, alright. i’ll let it go.”

but jake wasn’t sure if he could.

dinner went on, conversation moving to his mom’s garden, some neighbor’s drama, a show she was hooked on. you played along, nodding and laughing where you had to, and so did jake, but his mind was stuck on something else.

that look in your eyes.

jake didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.

by the time dinner wrapped up, you were in the kitchen with jake’s mom, drying dishes while jake stayed at the table, glued to his phone. he hadn’t said much all night, just scrolling through his phone.

his mom handed you another plate and looked over at him. “that boy’s always on that damn phone,” she muttered as she worked. “works too much, too. tells me it’s all just part of the job, but…”

you glanced at jake. he wasn’t even looking up, still absorbed in whatever was on his phone. “yeah, i know,” you said, kind of offhand.

jake’s mom let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “he needs to make more time for other stuff, you know? for you. for… whatever else.”

you just shrugged, drying another plate. “i’ve tried,” you said, quietly.

but jake, even though he looked like he wasn’t paying attention, actually was. he was listening to every word. he kept his face blank, not moving, but his attention was all on you two.

his mom paused, watching you for a second before asking, “how are you, though? really?”

you shrugged, trying to sound fine. “i’m good.”

“i didn’t make you uncomfortable with the baby talk, did i?” she added, quieter now, as she dried her hands.

you quickly shook your head. “nah. no, it’s fine.”

but there it was, the tiny shift in your eyes, just for a second. you weren’t exactly telling her everything, but she saw it. she noticed. she wasn’t going to push, but she was curious.

“have you thought about it?” she asked after a pause.

you hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the dish plate. “maybe…” you admitted quietly. “just… not sure if now is the right time.” with things so messed up with jake, of course it wasn’t.

the thought had crossed your mind. how could it not? every time you saw kids playing outside, every time you passed by a baby section in a store, every time a friend shared pictures of their little ones, you wondered. what would it be like? would it change things? would it fix things? but the reality hit you just as fast as the thought came.

let’s be real, jake hadn’t touched you in what felt like forever. it wasn’t just the lack of intimacy; it was everything that came with it. the distance, the exhaustion in his voice when he got home late, the way he barely looked at you some days. there was a time when he couldn’t keep his hands off you, when just passing each other in the kitchen would turn into something more.

now? now, it was like you were just existing in the same space, nothing more.

“i don’t think i would even be a good mother.” you forced a small smile, trying to brush it off.

jake heard it, loud and clear. his fingers stopped mid-scroll, and his shoulders tensed slightly.

his mom set down the dish towel, frowning. “why would you say that?”

you let out a small laugh, but there was no real humor in it. “i don’t know. i just…” you shrugged.

“oh, sweetheart, you’d be a great mother.” her hand approached your shoulder and left a small squeeze.

you swallowed, gripping the dish plate a little tighter. you smiled a little, but it wasn’t real. she didn’t see the whole picture. how lonely it felt sometimes. how every conversation about spending more time with jake turned into an argument and never went anywhere.

they just ran in circles until you both got too tired to keep going.

jake didn’t say it enough. heck, he barely said it at all anymore, but he thought about you all the time. how you held things together. the way you handled everything working, running the house, dealing with him, even when you probably shouldn’t have to.

and hearing you say that you didn’t think you’d be a good mom? it hit him hard. he wasn’t sure if you knew, but to him, you were everything. if anyone could do it, could be a great mom, it was you. you could handle it. you could handle anything.

but had he ever told you that? had he ever shown you? all the stuff you did, all the sacrifices, and how much he appreciated it?

no, he hadn’t. he realized that now. he hadn’t been there like he should’ve been. the late nights, the ignoring, all the times you tried to reach out and he pulled away. how could you believe him if he’d never shown it? how could you believe anything he said if he didn’t back it up with actions?

the drive home was dead quiet, like always. you weren’t even looking at him, just staring out the window, arms crossed, fingers tapping against your sleeve, like you couldn’t wait to be anywhere but here.

jake kept his eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel a little too tightly. he wanted to say something, maybe break the silence, but he didn’t even know where to start.

when he pulled into the driveway, you didn’t wait. you unbuckled your seatbelt, got out, and shut the door a little harder than necessary. jake stayed in the car for a second, watching you walk up to the house, before sighing and following.

inside, the only light on was the dim glow from the kitchen. the house felt cold, lifeless, probably because it had been for a while now. you kicked off your shoes, didn’t even glance at him, and headed straight for the bedroom. jake exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face before locking the door behind him.

he wasn’t sure what hurt more, the fights or the distance. but either way, it felt like losing.

jake followed you into the room, standing in the doorway as you began to take off your coat, dropping it onto the chair. his gaze followed you for a moment, the silence between you both heavy, almost suffocating. he didn’t want to press, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was low, almost like he was asking himself as much as he was asking you.

you paused, glancing over your shoulder at him, brows furrowing slightly. “about what?” you asked, genuinely confused.

jake pushed off the doorframe, stepping into the room a little more, his gaze not leaving you. “about the kids?”

you sighed, shaking your head as you pulled off your earrings, setting them down on the dresser. “it was just a dumb thought” you muttered, not even looking at him.

jake watched you for a second, his jaw tightening. “didn’t sound dumb to me.”

you let out a small, humorless laugh, finally turning to face him. “yeah? well, it is.” your arms crossed over your chest. “not like it matters anyway.”

his brows furrowed slightly. “why wouldn’t it matter?”

you exhaled, shaking your head. “jake, come on. look at us.” you gestured vaguely between the two of you. “we can barely have a conversation without it turning into an argument. you barely even look at me.” your voice was calm, but there was something tired underneath it.

jake stared at you, his fingers twitching at his sides. he wanted to say something, argue, deny it, tell you it wasn’t dumb. he wanted to tell you that he saw you all the time. that even when he came home exhausted, even when he was distracted, even when things were tense between you, he still saw you. he noticed the way you hummed under your breath when you cooked, the way you pulled your sleeves over your hands when you were tired, the way you always waited up for him even when you pretended you weren’t.

but what did any of that matter if he never said it? if he never showed it?

then, you sighed, rubbing at your temple. “jake, i don’t wanna do this right now.”

you changed into your pajamas and climbed into bed, facing the wall. you could hear the faint sounds of jake moving around in the other room, pacing once or twice before finally settling down somewhere.

minutes passed.

then an hour.

and still, you couldn’t sleep.

“how would you name them?”

you blinked, staring at the ceiling. for a second, you thought you imagined it. jake’s voice was quiet, coming from your side. you hadn’t even heard him lay next to you.

you turned slightly, just enough to glance at him. his head was already turned looking at you, his expression unreadable.

“what?” you asked, your voice softer than before.

he exhaled through his nose, shifting his stance. “if we had kids.” he paused before speaking again. “how would you name them?”

your fingers curled slightly into the blanket. you weren’t sure if he was asking just to ask or if this actually meant something to him.

you swallowed, then looked away. “i don’t know.” jake didn’t push, but he didn’t drop the conversation either. neither did you. “…maybe something classic. nothing too complicated.”

jake nodded slightly, like he was thinking about it. “like what?”

you hesitated, then shrugged. “i always liked names like—” you stopped, suddenly self-conscious.

jake tilted his head slightly. “like what?”

“i don’t know. maybe something that lookalike our names or—” you hesitated again, then shook your head. “it’s stupid.”

jake shook his head once. “hey it’s not stupid.” he was watching you, with something different in his eyes now. something quieter, something softer.

you glanced at him, then quickly looked away. “yeah.”

a beat of silence.

“what about a girl?”

you exhaled, staring up at the ceiling. “why are you asking me this?”

“i don’t know,” he admitted. “i just… want to know.”

the room felt heavier now, but not in the way it usually did after a fight. this wasn’t resentment or frustration hanging in the air, it was something else. something uncertain.

you shifted on the bed, pulling your knees up slightly, resting your arms over them. “it doesn’t matter. it’s not like we—” you stopped yourself, shaking your head. “never mind.”

jake didn’t let it go. “not like we what?”

you sighed, looking down at your hands. “not like we’re in the place to even think about that.”

“why not?”

you could feel the weight of his stare, the way he was waiting, pressing for an answer. you swallowed hard. “jake,” you started, your voice almost flat, like you were forcing yourself to say it. “we don’t even kiss anymore.”

“can i kiss you right now then?”

your stomach dropped. you weren’t expecting that, not so direct, not so steady. his voice was low, but there was no hesitation in it. he wasn’t teasing, wasn’t playing around. he was serious.

you blinked at him, feeling suddenly too aware of how close he was. you could see the way his fingers curled slightly against his knee, the way his breathing was just a little heavier than before.

“i’m just going to bed, jake,” you said quickly, your voice tight. you turned away, trying to put space between you, but before you could lie down, his hand wrapped around your wrist.

“come here,” he muttered, pulling you back toward him.

you let out a quiet, startled breath as you shifted, and suddenly, he was closer, closer than he had been in a long time. his grip wasn’t rough, but it was firm, keeping you right in front of him. his face was inches from yours now, his eyes locked onto yours, watching your every move.

your breath hitched. his hand was still around your wrist, his fingers warm against your skin. you could feel how steady he was, how he wasn’t rushing, just holding you there, watching you.

“jake…” you started, but your voice was barely above a whisper. you didn’t even know what you were trying to say.

he didn’t say anything. he just let go of your wrist, his hand trailing down slowly, his fingers barely grazing against your palm before resting on your thigh. his touch was warm, grounding, but not hesitant. he was waiting.

you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. his face was so close now, his breath mixing with yours, warm and slow. you could see everything, the way his lips parted slightly, the way his eyes flickered down to your mouth for just a second before coming back up.

a shaky exhale slipped past your lips. you weren’t even sure if you meant to do it, but it filled the silence, made it feel more real.

then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, he asked again, “can i kiss you?”

you inhaled sharply, but before you could answer, he moved. his hand slid up your thigh, slow enough that it sent a shiver through you, stopping at your waist as he pulled you even closer. you barely had time to react before his lips brushed against yours, just barely, not even a full kiss yet, just a ghost of a touch.

you made a soft sound, something caught between a sigh and a whimper, and that was all it took. jake’s fingers tightened at your waist, and then he kissed you for real, pressing his mouth against yours, warm and firm and just a little desperate.

you gasped softly against him, your fingers twitching before reaching for him, gripping onto his shirt. his lips moved against yours, slow at first, savoring, but there was tension beneath it, something deeper, something that had been left untouched for too long.

he exhaled sharply through his nose, his other hand coming up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

you could hear the way your breaths mixed together, how your heart was pounding so loudly it almost drowned out the quiet creak of the mattress as he shifted pinning you down.

when he pulled back just slightly, just enough to look at you, his lips were parted, his breathing uneven. his forehead nearly touched yours, and he swallowed,

he looked at you like he was memorizing you, like he was seeing something he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch.

“you’d be a good mom..” he said suddenly.

your breath hitched and you stared at him. you weren’t expecting that.

his thumb brushed over your cheek slowly. “i thought about it,” he admitted, sliding up to your jaw, tilting your face slightly. his touch was so gentle it almost hurt. “i think about it more than i should.”

your chest ached. he was looking at you like he was seeing it, like he could picture it so clearly, it hurt.

“i don’t know if i would’ve been a good dad,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “but you? baby, you would’ve been everything.”

your breath caught. it was the first time he’d called you that in a long time. “jake…”

“you take care of people even when they don’t deserve it. even when i don’t deserve it.” he let out a small, breathless chuckle. “i fucked up so bad, didn’t i?” his lips pressed together before he looked at you again.

jake swallowed. his thumb traced a slow, barely-there circle against your skin. you closed your eyes, inhaling shakily.

“can i hold you?” his voice was quiet, careful. “just… for a second?”

you hesitated. but then you nodded.

and jake didn’t waste a second.

he pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t hold tight enough. his hand cradled the back of your head, his breath warm against your skin as he exhaled shakily. “i’m sorry, baby,” he murmured against your hair. “i’m so fucking sorry.”

and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself sink into him.

jake pulled back slightly, his gaze intense, searching yours. “you think having a baby right now’s gonna make this all go away?” his thumb brushed along your jawline gently. “maybe it won’t fix everything, but it’d damn well give us something real to work toward, something we could both look at and know we’re doing this for something better.”

“we can’t avoid the fact that we need something, baby. we can’t just keep pretending everything’s fine. this…” he let out a breath, his hand dropping to your waist, pulling you closer. “this thing between us, what we’ve been doing. it’s broken, and i know it. but you, baby… i know we can fix this. i want to fix this. and i want you with me while we do it.”

his words hung in the air, the quiet pressure in his tone making it clear that he wasn’t asking. he wasn’t waiting for you to decide for him, either. it was like he already had his mind made up, like this was the path he was going to push for, whether you were ready or not.

“i need you to be on the same page as me, sweetheart,” jake said, his voice dropping lower. “i need you to trust me, like i trust you. no more running, no more acting like we don’t both feel this.” his hands moved down, pulling you even closer, his chest against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

jake’s body shifted against yours, and you felt something hard press against your thigh. the suddenness of it made your heart race, and the space between you seemed to close even more. his breathing was heavier now, his eyes locked onto yours, waiting for any reaction.

jake’s body was shaking, his breath coming out in short, desperate gasps. he was right on the edge, every part of him trembling as he held you close.

“fuck..” he groaned, his voice wavering. his breath was hot against your ear, desperate and whiny. “i need this… need you to—shit, baby, don’t stop… please.”

the bed creaked with every movement, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the room. jake’s breath was ragged, quick gasps escaping his lips as his body pressed against yours, sweaty and trembling.

his hands slid over your skin, the sweat making everything feel slick. “god, you feel so good..” he whimpered, his voice cracking with the effort to stay in control. “i’m close… so fucking close.”

he kissed you deeply, his lips trembling against yours, and he groaned at the sight of you, perfect, needy, ready to break.

“you’re gonna have my baby..” he whispered, as he buried his face in your neck “i’ll give you everything. just let go, baby. come for me, and i’ll fill you up… i need you to… please.”

the bed creaked once more, the sound louder as he thrust deeper. jake’s voice was trembling as he fought to hold himself back. the sound of his voice, so weak, so strained, made you shiver.

“hey, hey… look at me.” he murmured, gripping your chin to make you look at him. “mine. you know that, right?”

you nodded weakly, barely able to form words as he kept squeezing his dick deep inside of you. you hair was a mess and you could barely snort the strands that were getting in your face

“what do you want?” jake asked, hi grip on you tightened as he thrust deeper, his breath ragged against your ear.

you tried to answer, but the way he pushed deeper stole your words, leaving only a shaky gasp.

“a girl?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “i bet she’d look just—” another thrust, harder this time ”—like you.”

you could only moaned in response, fingers tangling in his hair as he moved against you, completely lost in the moment.

“you want to get married?” he looked down at you. you nodded quickly, the sensation overwhelming as he hit just the right spot. “yeah?” he urged, wanting to hear you say it.

“fuck yes” you breathed, your response coming out desperate and filled with need, lips parting as another moan slipped free.

his teeth scraped against you jaw before he kissed you hard, swallowing every sound you made. his breath hitched as he pulled you closer, his hands shaking slightly with urgency.

“come on, baby… let me feel you.” jake murmured, his voice trembling with a mix of need and desperation. “i need you..” he rasped, his voice almost breaking. “need you to come for me. please, baby… i need to feel you.”

your breath came in shallow gasps, and your body shuddering with the pleasure he was giving you. “jake…” you moaned, your nails digging into his skin as you clung to him.

“fuck—baby—” His voice cracked, his grip on your hips tightening like he was afraid to let go. “I c-can’t—shit, I’m gonna—”

he was so deep, his body stiffening against yours as he let out the neediest whine, his forehead pressing against yours. his skin was burning, damp with sweat, muscles twitching from how hard he was holding back.

the bed rocked with every movement, the headboard knocking against the wall as jake’s body tensed, his breath coming out in short, desperate gasps. his hands were shaking, his fingers digging into your skin.

“you f-feel so—shit—so tight, baby, i’m—” he choked on his words, his whole body trembling as he buried himself as deep as he could, letting out a broken whimper.

the second he spilled inside you, he groaned, his body collapsing against yours, completely spent. his breath was hot against your neck, his arms still wrapped tightly around you like he never wanted to let go.

jake was still panting, his chest rising and falling against yours, his body completely hot, damp with sweat.

“shit…” he let out a shaky breath, still buried inside you, his body jerking slightly every time he shifted. he was sensitive, too sensitive, but he wouldn’t pull away. “you feel so good…” he murmured, voice weak, breathless. “so fuckin’ perfect, baby.”

the bed still creaked beneath you, both of your bodies slick with sweat, sticking to the sheets. jake groaned when you shifted even a little, his hands gripping your hips tighter. “d-don’t move..” he whined, voice barely holding together. “i’m too..fuck—too sensitive.”

his head fell against your shoulder, his lips brushing against your skin as he sucked in a deep breath. “you okay?” he mumbled, fingers tracing circles on your hip, still twitching from how hard he came.

when you nodded, his grip loosened just a little, but he still wouldn’t pull away. “i don’t wanna move..” he admitted, voice muffled against your skin. “wanna stay like this… keep you full.”

you traced your fingers along his back, feeling the way his muscles twitched under your touch. “you really meant it?” you whispered. “about the baby?”

jake lifted his head just enough to look at you, his eyes half-lidded, still dazed. “of course, i meant it.” he murmured. “i want it so bad, baby. wanna see you all round with my kid.” his voice cracked slightly, his hands sliding up your sides, as if he was trying to memorize the way you felt right now. “you’ll be so fucking pretty… carrying my baby.”

your breath hitched, your legs instinctively tightening around him. “jake…”

his lips ghosted over yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “say you want it too..” he pleaded. “tell me you’ll give me a baby.”

you swallowed, heart racing. “i want it..” you admitted softly. “i want everything with you.”

jake let out a shaky breath, his hands trembling where they held you. “fuck..” he whined, pressing his forehead against yours. “i love you so much. i swear, baby, i’ll take care of you.”

you smiled slightly, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “you better.”

he chuckled breathlessly, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, desperate kiss. “i will…” he promised. “forever.”

2K notes · View notes

flowersforbucky · 11 months ago

Text

down bad

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i couldn't stop thinking about bucky being able to use his metal hand as a vibrator and therefore this was born.

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, bucky being used as a human vibrator, multiple orgasms, language, consumption of alcohol, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly possessive bucky, 18+ only

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Natasha mutters through a mouth full of popcorn. “Tyler from the statistics department? Are we talking about the same Tyler from statistics?”

“Nat, for the fourth time, yes. Tyler from statistics. The only Tyler from statistics that I know.” You reach for the bottle of Moscato that the two of you are sharing, pouring yourself some more wine.

“Nuh-uh,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don't believe you. There's no way he could be that bad.” She takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “He's too gorgeous,” she shrugs, turning to face you on the couch. The romantic comedy you had picked out for your bi-monthly movie night plays forgotten in the background.

“Trust me,” you sigh. “I was just as shocked as you are. But I swear on my life, he stuck his tongue in my ear. In my fucking ear, but wouldn't go down on me.” You can tell by the look on her face that Nat is trying her hardest not to laugh.

“He said his dick game is ‘too good to need to eat a girl out’.” You shake your head, cringing at the memory. “Which is also what he said when I merely suggested that he use my vibrator on me instead. He looked like I had kicked his dog.”

“Well?” she asks, a pained expression across her features. “Was it? Too good?”

“I didn't stay to find out,” you admit. “I faked a work emergency and dipped.” A laugh breaks through her pursed lips.

“I'm sorry–” she says, although her face says otherwise. “I shouldn't laugh. You just have the worst luck with men. Isn't that the third failed hook-up in what? Six months?”

“Don't fucking remind me,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch and staring up at the living room ceiling. “I think I've lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to me by another person again.”

Nat opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when you both notice voices approaching from the hallway.

Sam and Bucky enter the room a moment later, both dressed uncharacteristically nice. You suddenly feel the desire to conceal yourself with the fleece throw blanket laying across your lap. You and Nat usually plan your movie nights for when the tower is relatively empty, so you're just wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top. Bare-faced and hair unstyled, the fact that Bucky's gaze is locked on you as the two of them approach where you and Nat are lounging doesn't help. He's not smiling - but there's a look on his face that you don't quite understand. The ghost of a smirk on his lips and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

It's a look that makes you nervous - in addition to already feeling flutters in the pit of your stomach at how fucking good he looks.

“Hey, boys,” Nat greets them cheerily. “Where are the two of you going so dolled up?”

“There's a new nightclub in Brooklyn that a group of SHIELD trainees are going to tonight,” Sam answers. “They invited us and we've got nothing better to do. Figured we'd go check it out, get a few drinks. You ladies want to tag along? Or are you too busy watching - what is this, 10 Things I Hate About You?” He gestures towards the screen.

“Couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a while tonight, right?” Nat looks at you for confirmation, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who knows, you might even meet someone,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow.

Bucky lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough, which he tries to play off as the latter. You narrow your eyes at him before glancing back to Natasha.

“For sure,” you agree, trying to ignore Bucky's bizarre behavior. “Couldn't hurt. You guys go on, we'll get ready and head there soon. Text us the name of the club?” You direct the last part to Sam in particular.

“You got it,” Sam says as he pulls his cell phone from his coat pocket. He turns to leave when both your and Nat’s phones chime with the club information. “Let's go man, our Uber's here,” he directs at Bucky.

“See you both soon,” he says before turning to follow Sam, though his gaze is still only on one of you.

“I'm gonna go throw on some make-up, curl my hair, and hope I can find something somewhat cute to–” Nat starts as soon as Bucky and Sam have turned back down the hallway.

“Was he acting kind of odd?” you interrupt her in a hushed tone.

“Barnes? Always. I've stopped reading into it too much.”

“Some spy you are,” you mumble. “Meet me back here when you're ready.”

— — — — —

One hour later, you're applying some last minute mascara and lip gloss in the backseat of an Uber on your way to downtown Brooklyn. Natasha sits beside you, ranting about an assignment that Fury has tasked her with and you swear you're trying your hardest to absorb everything she's saying - but your mind keeps going back to the way Bucky was looking at you just an hour ago.

What was with that little smirk? That curious glimmer in his eyes? Had he overheard your conversation with Nat? Had he developed the ability to read minds and knew you were thinking about how fucking hot he looked? Or was that thought simply written all over your face?

You knew you couldn't deny it. Bucky does look exceptionally attractive in his black suit, with his perfectly tousled hair - but you had found him to be ridiculously good looking since you'd first met him. Even in casual, everyday clothes, even in gym shorts and drenched in sweat, even covered in blood after particularly brutal miss–

“You girls have a great evening,” your Uber driver interrupts your train of thought as he comes to a stop in front of your destination.

You really need to get fucking laid. You definitely shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Bucky. He's your coworker, your teammate, your training partner on many occasions, your friend…

Natasha thanks him and hands him a generous cash tip before climbing out of the car right after you.

“Thanks,” you tell her. “I'll buy our drinks.”

“Don't worry about me,” she tells you with a sly grin as you both flash the bouncer your IDs and enter the club. Despite the night still being relatively young, it's already bustling inside.

“You just focus on meeting people, mingling, maybe hitting it off with a super hot guy and taking him back to your place for some mind-blowing–”

“Super hot guy? Are you talking about me?” Sam’s voice interrupts Nat. You both turn around to see him and Bucky walking towards you, drinks in hand.

There's a roguish smile on Bucky's face as his eyes skim up and down your figure.

“You both look wonderful,” he compliments, but once again, his stare is focused only on you. If Natasha notices, she says nothing.

To be fair, you were impressed with how well you managed to put yourself together with such little notice. You found a black, backless mini dress crammed in the back of your closet that you had forgotten all about after snagging it on clearance forever ago. The form-fitting material hugs you in all the right ways, and paired with your favorite pair of strappy black heels, you're feeling infinitely more confident than you were when Bucky saw you just an hour prior.

“Thanks!” You chirp quickly, averting your gaze from him to take in your surroundings. To your left, the dance floor is lively, though not too overcrowded for your liking. To your right, there's a bar surrounded by tables filled with groups of people conversing - you vaguely recognize a couple of SHIELD agents huddled around one. The entire room is illuminated by the faint blue-green glow of the mood lighting, and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards.

Sam and Bucky excuse themselves to go say hey to the group of agents that had invited them, while Nat all but drags you over to the bar. You order a double shot of whiskey and throw it back as quickly as you can.

“I see what you mean now,” Nat whispers to you after downing her shot of tequila. “About Barnes,” she clarifies. “He's been eye-fucking you since we walked through the door.”

If you hadn't already swallowed your liquor, you would have spewed it all over her.

“He has not been eye-fucking me, Nat,” you say in an almost scolding tone.

“I'm just saying,” she throws her hands up. “There’s no way he could possibly be any worse than the last few guys you've gone for. I think you should go for it,” she shrugs.

“It's not that I don't think he'd be good,” you say defensively, forcing yourself to look away from where he and Sam are socializing with the small group of SHIELD agents a few tables away. “I just don't want things to be weird afterwards. We work together nearly every day, and we have a bunch of mutual friends–”

“Suit yourself,” she cuts you off in a tone of voice that very much says if you say so. “Now, are you going to dance with me or not?” She adds as she begins tugging you towards the ever-busying dance floor.

You spend the next half hour dancing with Nat before she's swept away by some black-haired doctor looking type. Good for her, you think as you watch them converse intimately at a small booth on the other side of the room.

Thanks to the liquid courage that runs through your veins, you're okay with the fact that Bucky stands just twenty feet away from you, watching you as you dance among the thick crowd of people.

You've made eye contact with him a few times now - on accident or on purpose, you're not sure at this point. But each time, your eyes lingers on his for a moment longer than the last.

You're mentally daring him to come here, to make a move, to do something other than stand to the sidelines of whatever conversation Sam and the others are engaged in.

The slightest bit of pressure on your waist snaps you back to the now congested dance floor.

You look up to find that the hand on your waist belongs to a tall man with shoulder length, sandy blonde hair. He's conventionally attractive enough, though not who you were hoping would come grab you on the dance floor.

“I'm Shawn,” he introduces himself, loudly enough for you to hear him over the roaring music. You tell him your name, pushing aside the pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter to talk, maybe? Let me buy you a drin–”

“There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,” a voice booms from behind you.

Shawn immediately retracts his hand from your waist, backing up a few inches as Bucky comes into view beside you.

“Must not have been looking too hard, I've been right here this whole time,” you jab back with a smug smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to–” Shawn says as he starts to back away.

“No worries, bud,” Bucky says in an overly friendly voice as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from Shawn's view entirely.

“Took you long enough,” you tell Bucky once the man is out of ear shot, once again beginning to sway to the music. “Get bored of listening to Sam hype himself up to the newbies?”

He takes a step closer, angling himself behind you. The crowd of people surrounding you edges you closer to him - your bare back brushing against the cool satin fabric of his suit.

“Maybe,” his chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks. He places his hands on either side of your hips - eliciting goosebumps across your skin in a way that no one else has in a long, long time.

“Or maybe I just wanted to save you from wasting your time on another guy who can't make you come.”

Your movements come to an abrupt pause as his words hit you.

He had fucking overheard your conversation with Natasha.

At a loss for words, you turn to face him. There's a shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks this is hilarious and it's obvious.

“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?”

“Is it really eavesdropping if I have superhuman hearing?” He takes a step closer to you, closing what little distance was separating you. The peaks of your breasts brush against his chest.

“So what happens now that you've saved me from another unsatisfactory hook-up?” You challenge, staring up at him in the neon blue lighting.

You can smell hints of cedarwood and sage from his cologne in your close proximity. It's so delicious that it's dizzying.

“Let me take you somewhere more private than this dance floor and I'll show you.”

“You seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to give me a better experience,” you say, leaning forward so that your face is just inches from his.

He responds by placing his flesh hand on the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The tips of his fingers continue to dance down the skin of your exposed spine. His vibranium hand comes to cradle your jaw, his metal thumb tracing your bottom lip.

His mouth forms a dark smirk - and then you feel it. It starts soft and subtle and then gradually increases in intensity.

His fucking thumb is vibrating against your lip.

If you hadn't been standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor at a nightclub in downtown Brooklyn, you would have taken that thumb into your mouth and sucked on it right then and there.

“What do you say?” he asks, now tugging on your bottom lip with the pulsing digit. “Are you going to let me take you to the first empty room I can find in this place and make you come?”

“I say show me the way.”

He removes his hand from your face and turns you in the direction of the back of the club. He guides you through the throng of dancers, keeping his hands placed firmly on either side of your waist from behind. His vibranium fingers still hum softly, reminding you of what he says is to come.

Directly past the dance floor, there's a hallway blocked off by a rope with a sign that reads employees only. Taking a quick look around, you see that all of the patrons surrounding you and Bucky are paying you no mind. Bucky unhooks the flimsy rope and the two of you slip down the hallway.

He jiggles the handles of several doors that all turn out to be locked. Not wanting to waste any time or draw any attention to yourselves with picking locks, you continue down the dark corridor until the heavy music from the heart of the club fades to a muted roar.

The very last door opens without a hitch.

Thanks to the pale orange glow of a table lamp on a desk in the corner of the room, you can see that you're in a makeshift office/supply room - a couple of filing cabinets, cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and some sound equipment strewn haphazardly throughout the limited space.

Bucky clicks the lock into place as soon as he closes the door behind him.

You're going to turn around him and tell him that he doesn't have to do this - that as badly as you want this, you don't want to ruin your friendship, that as badly as you want him, he doesn't have anything to prove to you - but his lips are already on yours as soon as you start to open your mouth.

He doesn't take his lips off of yours as he guides you backwards to the rickety wooden desk. The backs of your thighs hit the table and Bucky effortlessly lifts you to sit on the edge, giving him the perfect angle to deepen the kiss - with his tongue exploring your mouth, you're unable to stop yourself from groaning into the kiss.

You fist your fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough so that he hisses into your mouth. His own hands trail from the sides of your stomach and down your thighs, until he reaches the tail of your dress. You instinctively part your legs for him, as much as the restrictive fabric will allow, and his vibranium hand shoots between your thighs.

He teases you, dragging his index finger along the cloth of your panties that you know you're close to soaking through already. Just as the tip of his finger pauses above your clit, his finger begins emitting the softest vibration.

You break the kiss, breathless as you throw your head back at the sensation. Bucky takes it as an opportunity to attach his lips to the pulse point of your throat, nipping your flesh with his teeth followed by a wet kiss.

He continues with the ministrations through your panties until you're rutting against his hand, needing more. He tugs your underwear to the side and increases the intensity of the vibration before nudging his middle finger past your entrance.

You have to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself - despite the fact that you're sitting, your body feels like jelly beneath his touch. He adds in his index finger with ease before cupping your pussy in his palm - the heel of his hand pulsating against your clit.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cry against his mouth.

“You're so fucking wet for me, you know that?” He coos, thrusting both of his fingers against the spongy-flesh of your walls.

You can feel the vibrations of his hand all the way from your belly to your toes.

You begin grinding your hips to meet the movement of his fingers, fucking yourself against his hand. There's a familiar knot forming in your lower belly as he curls his fingers inside you -

“I want you to think about me and how good I'm making you feel every time you think about letting some fuckin’ nobody touch you,” he says in a low voice next to your ear. “I want you to think about riding my fingers until you come all over my hand.”

His words send you over the edge and you do exactly that - your pussy clenching around his fingers as you ride them through your orgasm. While you're still coming down from the high of your climax, Bucky pulls his metal fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, inserting his index finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the slick metal as he brings the vibrations to a halt and then slowly pulls the finger from your mouth.

He picks you up off the edge of the desk and plants you back on the ground - your legs still shaking from how hard you had come.

“Turn around and lean over the desk,” he instructs you, soft but authoritative.

You don't know if it's because of the way he's looking at you or because of how good he's already made you feel, but in that moment, you would've done anything he asked of you.

You bend over the desk, supporting yourself by leaning on your forearms. You peak back over your shoulder to look at Bucky - he hikes your dress up, baring your ass to him.

He lets out an audible groan before he has even pulled your panties down to your ankles.

He kneels on the ground behind you, his face inches away from your cunt. He uses both his flesh and metal hands to spread you open for him, and then his tongue is licking up your center from behind.

God, you hope no one tries to come into this room. The door may be locked but the sounds that someone would hear if they even walked up to the door…

Bucky knows just how to make you writhe above him. He's soft when he's kissing up your folds and unsparing when he's sucking your clit between his lips. His hands hold your ass in a firm grasp that teeters between pleasure and pain.

You grind back against his face and he moans so deeply that you feel the vibration of it up your core. Your eyes roll back into your head as you clutch the sides of the desk to better support yourself.

His enthusiasm alone has you spiraling towards a second climax embarrassingly fast.

“You know,” he murmurs against your sensitive pussy. “When I overheard you say that someone had refused to go down on you, I couldn't believe it. What a fuckin idiot to pass this up.” He gives your ass cheek a firm slap with his flesh hand before diving his face between your legs once more.

It's just seconds before you feel the telltale pressure growing in your lower belly once more. You go limp against the table, Bucky placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to help keep you upright as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

You continue to lay against the desk as you regain control of your breathing. Bucky stands up, tugging your panties up your legs and back around your waist as he does. He then shimmies your dress back down into place so that you're once again looking club-appropriate.

When you turn around to face him, he's wiping your slick from his lower face on the sleeve of his suit, once again displaying a shit-eating grin.

“What was it you said?” He asks in mocking contemplation. “You had lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to you by another person again?”

“I think you've made your point. You're fantastic at eating pussy and you're a walking human-sex toy.” You roll your eyes at him and start to walk towards the door, but he grabs your wrist in his metal hand, stopping you.

He pulls you back to him and brings his flesh hand to cradle your jawline. He stares at you in a heavy, uncertain silence for a split second before bringing his lips to yours.

It's a kiss that's a bit more hesitant, and a lot less rushed than the one before. You taste yourself all over him, warm and salty. He takes his time getting lost in your mouth - you savor every second and it still comes to and end all too once.

“Couldn't help myself,” he smiles softly when he pulls away. “Just had to kiss you one last time.”

You can't help the way your heart skips a beat when he says the word last.

You clear your throat. “We should probably go find Sam and Natasha,” you say, giving him a small smile in return. “I'm sure they're both wondering where the hell we are.”

You spend the rest of the evening attempting to mingle with friends, but there's one thought that torments you for the remaining duration of the night - just a few hours ago, you doubted that you'd ever have a satisfactory hook-up ever again.

Now, you had to wonder if anyone else could ever make you feel as good as Bucky did.

♡♡♡♡♡

i left this kind of open-ended soooo leave it to your own interpretation what happens next for them 🤭

as always comments/reblogs are infinitely appreciated. thanks for reading!

my masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #my writing #flowersforbucky

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jarofstyles · 1 month ago

Text

Teach Me?

Hello love bugs, we've got a huge one shot here. I see a lot of writing where the guy helps the girl out with inexperience, but I thought I'd like to write something where he's the one asking for help. I had a lot of fun putting this together so I hope you guys like it. I may do more but I have a lot of other stuffed planned but let me know your thoughts!

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WC- 12.3k

Warnings- mentions of insecurity, anxiety, oral, soft!Dom H, soft!Dom Y/N, switchy vibes but mostly Dom!H, Y/N pokes fun at him for being nerdy but she loves it,

"Hey..." Harry began casually, wiping his hands on a towel after washing. Her best friend had invited himself over for dinner, which meant he was going to do the dishes. It was an unspoken rule of their friendship. If you invite yourself, you clean up. But seeing as Y/N was the one who cooked nine out of ten times, it had become a normal to see him at her kitchen sink. Her eyes peeked up at him from her phone, giving him a look to continue. "Can I ask you something? It's a kinda...weird request." He scratched the back of his neck nervously, looking at her with an attempt at puppy dog eyes. He wanted something and it made her narrow her eyes.

“I’m not going to the convention with you again, Har. It’s not my scene, I told you. I’ll watch any series of movies until our brains leak out our ears but if I have to sit through panels and Q&As where they ask what the characters favorite food is again I may lose my mind.” She knew it was coming up… but apparently that wasn’t his point. Thank God.

"No! No. Adam is going with me this year. Rude. But besides that…” It made her a lot more curious as to what it could be because he did genuinely look nervous. “It's a weird question, actually." He sat down next to her on the couch, twisting his hands together. "And you can totally say no... but..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Would you... maybe..." The hesitance had her sitting up a little straighter, raising her brow higher to urge him forward. "God..." He muttered softly, trying to find the words. "You promise not to judge?" He saw her raise an eyebrow. "I mean it. No making fun of me." He watched as she slowly nodded, waiting.

“I make fun of you for a lot of things, but if you’re asking me not to, I won’t. Are you okay?” Y/N asked softly, unused to his behavior. He was usually playful and could take any joke, so it wasn’t exactly like him to ask her not to do it.

"I'm okay." He assured her, but still had the nervous look in his eyes. "It's just... I've recently realized... kinda an embarrassing thing about myself." He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I don’t think… I don’t think I’m actually making girls finish properly when I hook up with them. At least not every time. And I feel like shit about it.”

That was a surprise to her. Harry had the whole hot and nerdy thing going on, and he pulled plenty. Not that he always attempted or took them up on the offers, but he’d had a few girls he had hooked up with that she knew of. Usually he kept pretty quiet about it, but that didn’t bother her. Y/N had assumed a lot about him because… He did have some big dick energy going on. He had really nice hands too. The idea of him being unskilled in bed didn’t feel like it was right, but she was hearing him out. “What’s making you think this?” She asked curiously. “Did someone say something?”

"No, no one's ever said anything. Not to my face." His face flushed slightly pink as he shifted again, trying to get comfortable. "I just... well. Sometimes I noticed they'd tense up or seem kinda disappointed later. Like they were expecting something else. More? I dunno. And they don’t usually text me again, which is fine and all but I hate thinking I let someone down. It’s embarrassing." He avoided looking at her while he talked, staring at his fidgeting fingers instead. "I don't want to be one of those guys who only thinks about themselves. That’s the last thing I want to do." He trailed off, clearly embarrassed. So unlike him that it made her heart hurt a little bit. Harry was a happy guy and seeing him not like that was like seeing a wet puppy in the street. She had to fix it.

“Well the fact that you even care at all is really good. I know, the bar is on the floor but, unfortunately a lot of men don’t give a shit if we finish or not.” Y/N knew plenty of men- had experienced them herself- that didn’t care if it felt good for her. They wanted a quick nut and go. Harry never seemed to be the type. Honestly, he was very thorough in most things and she’d assumed that would properly bleed over to sex.

“Wanting to be better is half the battle. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. The first time I sucked someone off I gagged really awfully, the sound made him go soft.” She laughed at her own bad time. “We all start somewhere.”

He laughed softly at her story, feeling a little more at ease knowing he wasn’t the only one. Y/N was far more experienced and open about being a little freak, so it felt better to know even she had some weirder experiences. It wasn’t just him. "Yeah, I can imagine." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Gagging on dick is not the most pleasant experience, is it?" He turned to look at her, his eyes serious again. "But, um, thanks for listening and all that. I just... I want to be good at it. For them, and for myself." He looked down at his hands again, picking at his fingernails nervously. He needed to paint them again so he would stop doing it. His pink polish was chipped. "And that's why I was wondering…” He bit his lip, his heart racing as he tried to work up the nerve to ask his best friend a very personal favor. The most personal you could probably get.

"Would you... would you maybe let me practice on you?” The silence lingered for a moment longer than he was okay with, panicking slightly as he continue. “I promise I'll listen to everything you say, and we can stop anytime you want. We don’t even have to! You can say no, obviously.” The man was babbling as he tried to untwist his tongue. “But I really trust you and I think you'd give me good feedback. Honest feedback." He looked up at her with pleading eyes, his cheeks flushed a darker pink that she hadn’t seen before- all the way up to his ears.

“Me?” That… was not at all what she had expected. To be fair she hadn’t been sure what to expect but that would probably be lower on the list. “You want to… practice eating pussy or something, on me? I just want to make sure I heard you correctly.” Because she sure as hell didn’t know if this was some sort of dream or delusion.

Harry nodded quickly, his ears turning an even deeper shade of red. "Yeah, you. I mean, if you're comfortable with it. I know it's a really fucking weird request and all, I swear I’m not trying to make anything weird with us but... you're my best friend, and I trust you. And I know you'd be honest with me." Y/N was known for being honest even if it wasn’t the most appropriate time to be. He looked at her with those big, hopeful eyes, his bottom lip worried between his teeth. "Please? I promise I'll do everything I can to make it good for you, if you let me. I just really want to get better at this."

It could fuck up the friendship. Y/N knew that, because it was every sort of cliche thing that tells you do not, under any circumstances, hook up with your best friend. But… it had been a while. Harry didn’t ask much of her besides her dinners and to go to some events with him so he wasn’t alone. He listened to her rants and brought her food when she was hungry and didn’t want to go out. He made her bed for her sometimes just because he was near and tidy like that. He swept the kitchen after dinner. He bought tickets to movies and concerts on his card and told her to pay him back whenever she could. He protected her if people acted weird at the rare chance they went out to the bar. Harry was a really fucking good friend, the best she’d ever had.

She also couldn’t lie to herself and say she didn’t think he had a spectacularly pretty mouth and even better hands. They had always been really nice. Soft, long fingers, big palm. The tattoos that trickled down… Fuck. She was going to say yes. Fuck it. “Okay. I guess we can, but I’ve got some rules.”

He blinked, surprised but trying to hide it, his heart racing faster at her surprisingly quick answer. "Rules?" He nodded, leaning forward slightly, completely focused on her words. "Of course. I mean... I'll do anything you say." That came out a bit too smooth, and they both caught the double meaning. He cleared his throat, trying to appear casual and failing miserably. "What are they?" His eyes were fixed on her, his hands folded in his lap to stop them from shaking nervously.

“I mean, I’m being a little dramatic. It’s only a few.” She laughed, leaning back on the couch. “One being we don’t tell anyone. Our friends are already weird about how much time we spend together. Two, you don’t touch me and then another woman. If you find someone else that’s completely fine, but I don’t want her germs and shit on me.” That was not something she liked at all. “If you’re practicing on me, it’s me. I won’t fuck around with other people either, but I don’t fuck with STIs and all that.” It was doubtful he would need to be reminded of that.

“I’m assuming this is going to be a couple times because the way you get good at stuff is practicing. I won’t complain if I get a few orgasms out of this.” She shrugged as if this was a normal thing to be discussing. Best friends having sex. “But the last one is you don’t make things weird after you’re all good with your skills. Don’t make stuff weird.”

"Those are..." He cleared his throat, trying to process everything she had just said. "Those are actually very reasonable rules." He nodded, making sure to emphasize each point so she know he heard her loud and clear. "One: Not telling our friends is smart. Two: Of course, no cheating. We aren’t dating but I’m a one woman type of man. My mother raised me better than that. You know she would kill me." He managed a small smile. "Three: I, uh, plan on practicing. A lot, if you let me." His eyes lingered just a moment too long on her lips, then quickly flicked away.

“Good.” Harry was efficient in most things. It’s exactly why she understood how much it probably bothered the hell out of him to not really be able to get a woman off, or so he thinks. She was just being a good friend, right? helping him out. “So walk me through what you usually do when you bring someone home. We start there. I can tell you if something you’re doing is weird.”

He swallowed nervously, trying to collect his thoughts as he shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Well, uh... usually I'd start by kissing them, ya know? Get them a little worked up before moving down." He gestured vaguely with his hands, as if physically trailing kisses down an imaginary body. "Then I'd kinda... kiss around the area, maybe use my fingers first to make sure they're wet and all..." He trailed off, wincing as he realized how clinical it sounded when he said it out loud.

“That sounds decent, but kind of like a routine.” Harry was like that, she knew, but sex wasn’t. “Not all women are the same, though. We’re all different. You don’t experiment at all to see where her sensitive spots are? Do you keep kissing to the lips and her cunt?” The question was blunt, but she usually was.

"Well... No, actually. I kinda just do the same thing every time." He ran a hand through his hair nervously, realizing how basic that sounded compared to how she spoke about sex. "And yeah, I guess I do stop kissing once I get down there. Why?" He was listening intently, genuinely curious about her approach. For all his perceived experience with women, he was suddenly feeling very inexperienced in this one area. Something about the way she talked about sex was... different. Confident, like it was no big deal.

“Because women are sensual creatures, Harry. Sure, we have similar biological things that happen but the way we get horny is with our minds. Teasing a little. Dirty talk, if you’re good at it, ease into it. Kissing places that aren’t just the obvious.” Shifting to face him, she grabbed one of his hands and put it on her shoulder. He was definitely nervous. It was a little cute. “I’ll give you a cheat sheet for me. I really like to be kissed under my ear, over my throat. Sometimes a lick or a suck. A bite, if I’m in the mood. I like to be kissed over my stomach, tops of my breasts, inner thighs, hips. They aren’t necessarily obvious, but the exploration is nice.”

Taking his hand, she moved it to her neck and then dragged it down past her tits, down her stomach to the waistband of her joggers. “You can have a general path, but you need to be comfortable deviating from it when that’s what she responds to.”

"Fuck..." The curse slipped out quietly as his breath caught, noticing how comfortable she was with his hand on her body. His fingers lingered at her waistband, acutely aware of the sensitive skin just inches beneath. "I never really thought about it like that. I always just went straight for the pussy." He cleared his throat, realizing how crude that sounded coming out loud. "I mean..." She chuckled at his flustered state, finding it endearing. "So you're saying I should take my time? Like, really tease her out?" He moved his hand slightly, fingertips brushing the bare skin of her lower abdomen just beneath her shirt hem. "Kiss other places, see what makes her squirm?"

His gaze flickered down to where his hand rested, then back up to meet her eyes. There was a new spark of understanding there, like pieces clicking into place. "And if I find somewhere she likes? I should... explore that?"

“Yeah.” Her stomach had jumped as he moved his hand but didn’t say anything about it. “Every person is different. I’m sure you have places you like to be touched that people haven’t tried yet either. Being in tune with your body and hers, being able to read the cues that’s what could be your strength.” It was something a lot of men didn’t bother to take into consideration.

"Like, if she makes a certain noise or tenses up?" He was genuinely intrigued now, his mind racing with possibilities. "What if she pulls my hair or digs her nails into my back?" He shifted his hand lower, fingers splaying out on her stomach curiously. "Does that mean she likes it?" He was so focused on the hypotheticals that he almost missed the way his hand resting on her stomach made her stomach muscles twitch slightly beneath his palm.

“Yes, exactly that. Sometimes you’ll be able to feel her pulse if you’re holding her wrist, or.. Well, if you’ve got your hand around her throat. We’ll talk about proper choking another day, but you can see if her pulse jumps from that.” His hands were perfect for that, honestly, and she shouldn’t let her mind wander. Nope. “The noises she makes, if she pulls you further in, bucks her hips, those are all good signs. Not everyone is extremely vocal, but checking in to make sure she likes it, if she wants you to give more, it can help.

"Checking in?" He repeated, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he tried to wrap his head around the idea. "You mean like... asking her if she likes it?" He shifted his hand lower still, fingertips brushing the hem of her joggers. "Like, 'is this okay?' Or 'do you like this?'" He could see how that might be helpful, especially with quieter partners. "But wouldn't that ruin the moment?" He looked up at her, genuinely curious and seeking approval.

“You don’t have to ask in such a sterile way. You can just say something like ‘does that feel good?’ or ‘that’s nice, baby?’ and see her response. You’ve got a nice voice, Har. Use it.” She gave him the compliment easily. He did need a bit of confidence boosting, that much she could already tell. “Checking in shouldn’t ruin the moment. It’s safe, it’s a sign of a good partner. You’ll figure out how to check in in a less… abrupt way.”

"Right... fuck me." He muttered under his breath, actually feeling slightly embarrassed about how little thought he'd put into this before. "I've been a clueless fuck, haven't I?" He sighed, running his fingers along her waistband more deliberately now, testing how she responded. His heart stuttered slightly when she complimented his voice."So like..." He traced patterns on her lower stomach with his fingertips, almost unconsciously. “Feels good?” Testing out the way she had suggested.

Y/N swallowed, feeling a bit of a shift. He had seemed to be having a good time touching her stomach, the light tracing on her skin making her heat up a little bit. She wasn’t blind- Harry had most definitely gotten hotter over the years, and he was just attractive in general. Though she hadn’t allowed herself to look at him as anything but the quirky best friend he was, getting to see a different side of him was something she was intrigued by.

“Mhm.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “See? It doesn’t have to be straight into it. Just touches like that can get a girl wet.” It was starting to get to her, weirdly enough. “Tell me about kissing. How do you usually start it?”

"Kissing..." He trailed off, his mind briefly distracted by the way her skin felt beneath his fingers. "Uh... well. I usually start with a simple peck, just to see if they're into it." His other hand came up to gently tilt her chin, exposing her neck to him. "If they seem like I have the go ahead, I'll press my lips to theirs more firmly- it’s kinda hard to explain with words." Being a little bold, he let his thumb brush over her bottom lip absently as he spoke, his gaze fixed on her mouth.

“Well if you’re going to eat me out, I don’t see why you can’t just show me.” Kissing Harry had not been something she had anticipated actually doing, really ever, but she can’t say she hadn’t thought about it. The man had an incredible mouth. Soft looking lips, deep pink, the cute little birthmark, all of it was appealing- it was just that it wasn't a possibility for her prior. “Show me how you do it with them.”

His thumb brushed her bottom lip again, his breath hitching slightly at the idea of kissing her. It was just an exercise, he reminded himself firmly. This was just a dry run, to help him figure out his technique. But as he slowly leaned in, his heart rate picked up, eyes flicking between her lips and onto her eyes. "Like... this." He whispered hoarsely, sliding his hand back into her hair to tilt her head further. His lips pressed to hers gently, just a soft brush at first to test the waters. His lips were soft and warm against hers, the kiss gentle at first. He waited for her to react, to see if she would pull away or lean into it. As she didn't, he took it as his sign to keep going, slowly increased the pressure, his lips molding to hers in a soft, sweet kiss.

Feeling emboldened when she began to press her lips back to his, Harry peppered her lips with a series of short, sweet kisses. His lips brushed against hers once, twice, three times in rapid succession, each kiss a little firmer than the last. He could feel her starting to relax into it, her lips softening beneath his own. Encouraged, he let his tongue flick out briefly, a teasing taste before pulling back slightly to gauge her reaction. She tasted like the lemon lime soda she’d had with dinner, a sweet surprise. All of this had been. He hadn’t been sure if she would say yes and if this would potentially make things weird, but thankfully Y/N seemed at least a little receptive to it. His hand remained in her hair, holding her gently as he studied her face for any signs of discomfort or approval. “Okay?”

Y/N knew he would be a good kisser, but he was playing it safe. However, even with the safety still on, she knew he had it in him. He wasn’t as shy as he had been before and that had surprised her a bit when he had gripped her to keep her in place. That had been exceptionally hot. At least to her. “Yeah. You did well.” She cleared her throat to rid herself of the rasp. “You’re playing it safe, though. Here.”

Swinging her knee over his lap, she pushed him back against the back of the couch so his posture was more relaxed. “You’re stiff. Pun not intended.” She snickered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You’ve got to relax a little bit. I don’t know if it’s just me or you get anxious when you kiss other girls too. The thing you did holding my face still? That was hot. It’s gonna depend on the girl but you seem to have an idea on what to do.” Placing her hands on his broad shoulders, she settled her weight on top of him. Hm.. he really had been doing well at the gym. “You okay with me on your lap?”

Harry blinked in surprise, trying to catch up to the fact that she was currently in his lap. Closer than she usually got to him, voluntarily hopping on up. “Y-yes! I mean, yes, please. Go on." His voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying his nerves. He wasn’t sure if it was from the unexpected closeness or just the sudden shift in dynamic between them. Her weight felt nice on his lap, but besides a cuddle or two this was definitely the closest they’d ever been. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nervous.”

Y/N nearly cooed. His frown was precious, really. He was precious. Sliding a hand over his jaw, she tilted his head to meet her eyes. “It’s okay to be nervous, but it’s just me. I’m not going to judge you. You asked for my help, and I’m gonna give it to you.” Slipping her fingers in his hair, she made herself familiar with touching him. They hadn’t been super touchy to begin with but she knew Harry liked physical touch. He was clingy with their other friends physically, but he had always respected that Y/N typically wasn’t the type. Now though? It was free game. “You can touch me how you want. Get familiar with me.”

Y/N wasn’t the type to truly judge if you really needed her and he knew that. Hell, that was why he had come to her in the first place- but she was intimidatingly beautiful. It set him off to be even more nervous. His mind briefly wondered if this was how he was in bed- overthinking everything- maybe that was why he didn’t get calls back.

“Shit.” He muttered softly, then snapped back to attention as she told him to touch her. He wanted to do that, he had always wanted to but Y/N only really liked to be cuddled when drunk. When she was, she would be giggly and happy, hold on to his hand and swing them back and forth, especially when he helped her get into the car. It had always made him feel special, but this? It was a privilege to touch her. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms loosely around her, testing the waters. “Like this?” He spread his fingers out slightly on her back, his thumbs nearly brushing the bottom of her bra strap under her top.

“Yeah, that’s nice.” Leaning into him, she let her fingers run over the rims of his glasses. “These are cute. I like them.” His new glasses suited him. They were a little bit thinner than his old ones and it was a tad bit more modern. She hadn’t been lying to him when she said he had the hot n’ nerdy advantage. “You’ve got really nice hands, Har. Use them.”

He blushed slightly at the compliment on his glasses, his fingers tightening slightly on her waist possessively. "You really think?" He asked softly, tilting his head to the side to give her better access to his face. He liked when she did little things like that, adjusting his glasses or messing with his hair. Maybe it was because he felt touch starved, particularly from her, but the simple brushes of her fingers made him feel that heat in his lower stomach. It was so simple but the air felt a lot thicker than it had before. He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves to be more bold as he slowly dragged his hands over her hips.

“Mhm.” She nodded, gently running her nails over his scalp. “See? I’m not too scary.” Though she had to admit that the feeling of his big hands pawing at her and running over her hips and waist made her feel a little bit giddy. Maybe she could attribute it to the fact it really had been a while since she had been touched in a way that wasn’t friendly, but her body liked the way it felt. “You’re being polite, which is nice. But as cute as your little gentleman thing is, I know you want to grab my ass, Harry. You can do it.”

Harry's breath caught as she said that, his eyes darkening slightly behind his glasses. He had definitely been thinking about it, doubted there was anyone who saw it and didn’t want to, but he hadn't wanted to overstep. Hearing her give him permission was like a green light and he couldn't help himself. His hands squeezed her hips before slowly sliding down to grip her ass, his fingers spreading out to knead the soft flesh. "Fuck..." He muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. "You're so soft."

His grip on her ass tightened reflexively as he pulled her more firmly against him, a low groan escaping his lips. The heat of her pressed deliciously against his hardening cock, and he couldn't help but roll his hips slightly, seeking friction. "Shit, Y/N...Sorry. I don't want to get carried away." He breathed, his face flushing darker. Here he was, rock hard with his best friend in his lap, from a little ass grab. It was embarrassing how quickly he had gotten worked up- But God, it felt good.

There was a sigh out of her mouth as she felt him start to relax and do what he wanted to do. This was closer to where she wanted him to get, but she hadn’t expected it to feel as good just being rubbed over his lap. “There you go- it’s okay.” She whispered. “That’s hot. You want to show her that you’re eager for her.” With her grip in his hair, she tugged his head back slightly to look at his pink cheek. “You’re a faster learner, I know. But you remember what I told you? Try kissing my neck. I told you the spots I like.”

His eyes fluttered shut as she tugged on his hair, his throat exposed to her. "Yeah. I can do it. S’long as you feel good, m’happy..." He whispered, his voice rougher than she had ever heard it. Leaning into her touch, he let her guide his face into her neck and followed instructions quickly to press open mouth kisses to her skin. He started at the spot just below her ear, as she had told him about, sucking gently on the soft skin. His hands continued to grab at her ass, pulling her flush against him as he kissed and sucked his way down her neck.

The kisses trailed lower, his lips hot and damp against her neck. Each press of his mouth made chills rise on her skin, his stubble lightly scratching her sensitive skin in the most delicious way. As he sucked gently on a particularly sweet spot, she couldn't help but tip her head to give him better access, a soft gasp escaping her lips. None of this had been expected, but liking his mouth on her skin hadn’t been. Maybe it really was just the fact it had been a while but… it felt better than her last hookup.

Harry was her friend and she trusted him. She felt safe, and that probably made her feel a lot more comfortable, just as it probably did for him. But having his hands all over her was something her whole body was responding to. A quick learner, he had realized how much she liked feeling the friction and did something about it. His strong hands gripped her ass harder, pulling her over his lap and letting feel the throb of him through their clothes.

He could feel her getting heavier in his lap, her breath growing shallow as he continued his adoration of her neck. It felt amazing, yes, but he was in a bit of awe. Harry really should have known that Y/N didn’t half ass anything. She was thorough in everything she did- apparently it extended to teaching him how to please a woman. His hands roamed freely as he adjusted, taking a risk in spreading her legs wider over his lap to better fit her between his thighs.

"Am I doing okay?" He mumbled into her neck, his voice muffled. "Is this warming you up enough? Or should I be doing more?" His fingers flexed on her hips before sliding down, spreading out to rest on her thighs.

“You’re doing good.” The thickness in her throat made her voice a bit raspier, unsure how she had managed to let herself get to this point. It felt really fucking good. His hands strong and so fucking big, splaying over her thighs. The heat of them seeming to radiate through her skin and down to her bones, she wanted to lean into that touch.

God, she was touch deprived.

He had done a good job in making her panties damp and it felt almost embarrassing that a little bit of heavy petting and kissing on the neck had her pussy throbbing, but she couldn’t exactly deny it. Lightly rubbing herself against him again to get more of the friction her body was demanding, she closed her eyes and let her head lean back before she admitted it to him. “You’re making me wet.”

His whole body seemed to tense up at her whispered admission, his hands flexing on her as he took a breath. "You are?" He whispered back, his voice not able to contain his surprise. He had hoped he was doing something right- especially after all the apparent failures he’d had- but hearing that she was wet from just his touch and kisses was... something else. He wasn't used to being this effective. His ego swelled slightly, making him bolder. "Can I... touch more?" He asked hesitantly, his fingers inching higher up her thighs. "Can I feel what I’m doing to you?"

His words had her gritting his teeth. Where the fuck did that come from, and why did it made her throb? Letting out a breath through her nose, she opened her eyes to look at him. It shocked her a little, seeing his lips swollen and eyes a little hazy, glasses a tiny bit crooked. He looked disheveled in a way he usually didn’t. Of course he had always been hot but this look in particular, knowing it was caused by her specifically? It fueled her ego too.

“Y-Yeah.” She nodded, clearing her throat. “Yeah, you can. That’s what I’d tell you to do next. You have good instincts.” It was a mystery to her how Harry, who was good at almost everything, had struggled to make a girl cum- but she was the teacher now. “You can slip your hand into the waistband.”

"Fuck. Thank you." Harry muttered under his breath. He couldn't believe he was actually about to touch Y/N intimately, after all these years of being just friends… It was insane. He wasn’t unable to see how insanely fucking hot she was, that had never been an issue. He’d had a few questionable wet dreams about her- but the actual idea of ever touching her hadn’t come up until recently, and he was liking it a bit more than he probably should be for a lesson.

With trembling fingers, he slowly slipped one large hand down the front of her joggers, sliding it along her stomach until he reached the top of her panties. "Can... can I? Under them?" His breath was warm against her neck as he asked permission, albeit a bit jumbled, waiting for her nod before slowly slipping under the final piece of fabric that kept him from her most intimate place.

At her nod, he released a deep breath through his nose. His heart was racing as he slowly pushed his hand under her panties, the back of his fingers brushing against the soft, damp fabric. He could feel the heat emanating from between her legs, his own body responded accordingly. His cock was pulsing in his briefs, surely starting to make a bit of a mess. "Holy shit." Harry breathed, his voice shaking slightly as he explored her with his hand. His fingers dipped lower, feeling the slickness coating her folds. “You really are fucking soaked.” Tilting his head up with an awed smile, he met her eyes. “I did that t’you?”

“Mhm.” It felt slightly harder to breathe as she looked at his eyes, seeing the pride in his face, feeling his fingers cupping her wet pussy and giving a little squeeze. It had her inhaling sharply, fingers on his shoulder digging into his shirt. “You did. I- I want you to show me what you do when you get to this stage with the girls you hook up with.” It was taking everything in her not to rock against his hand, staying still as she tried to ground herself.

His fingers trembled slightly as he tried to mimic what he thought he had seen in porn or heard from his friends. He had forgotten what to do. Another symptom of his damn nerves taking over. He roughly spread her lips apart, his thumb pressing against her clit as his middle finger pushed inside her soaked pussy. "Shit... I'm... I'm not really sure what to do..." He admitted, his voice shaking as he started to rub her clit in slightly sporadic circles while thrusting his finger inside her. It was clumsy and a bit rough, but he was trying his best.

“Okay- alright. Stop.” Making sure to keep her voice soft and not like she was scolding him, she held his face in her hands. “You’re jumping right into it a bit too fast, Honey.” The nickname fell from her lips a bit too easily but she decided to ignore that. “You need to ease into it. Find a rhythm. Pull your fingers out.” She instructed, gently stroking over his cheekbone. It was obvious he was embarrassed from his flushed cheeks, and she didn’t want that. He wasn’t doing too badly, but he’d asked for a lesson. That’s what she was going to give him.

“Hey… Look at me.” Tilting his chin up, she gave him a soft smile. “S’okay, Har. You came to me for help. I’m gonna help you. You didn’t do anything inherently wrong.” Still, she could see he felt some type of way about it, and she knew he needed a bit more comforting. Leaning in, her lips pressed against his in a soft peck. It was more intimate than it should have been, but she was again, going to ignore that. “Hi.” Smoothing the skin under his eye, she gave him a giggle. “Okay, so… You’ve got incredible hands. They’re so nice… and I know you can be good with them. So let’s start slow, okay? Do slow circles over my clit with your thumb. Nice n’gentle.”

His shoulders had dropped slightly after her small kiss, ignoring the flutter he’d felt in his chest from it. He hadn't realized how tense he had gotten, like he had failed the test- but this was Y/N. Y/N was safe, she was kind despite how blunt she was, and she was helping him. There was no evidence of her making fun of him in her tone, simply sweet. Unusual, maybe, but it seemed like she knew what she needed.

"Okay." He mumbled softly, his cheeks slightly less red. Her compliments helped a bit- He had always had confidence issues when it came to this. "Like this?" He asked shyly, his large thumb slowly making small, loose circles over her clit. He was careful to keep his touch gentle like she asked, watching her face for any signs that he was doing it wrong again.

He felt her body tense pleasantly at his touch, a soft exhale escaping her lips. Encouraged by her response, he maintained the slow circles, his thumb brushing over her clit with deliberate gentleness. Her hips gave a tiny involuntary roll against his hand, seeking more of the pleasant friction. Harry's fingers twitched slightly, wanting to increase his pace but remembering her instruction. He resisted the urge, keeping the rhythm maddeningly slow.

“Yeah. That’s so nice.” She whispered. It was experimenting, letting him explore and get the hang of it. “Every woman is different. Some people will want it faster, some will want it rougher, but I like this to start.” She admitted, leaning into him. “Here.” Dragging the cropped top off of her body, she exposed the lacy bralette she had heard good reviews for to him. It was quite nice, holding her tits up in a way she hasn’t expected- but she’d chosen correctly today, unknowing that a man would be able to see it firsthand. “When you’re doing this, you keep kissing her. Licking. Sucking her nipples, if she’s into it.”

His eyes roamed over her bralette-clad breasts, the delicate lace contrasting with her soft, smooth skin. He felt his mouth watering, the urge to taste her growing stronger as he watched them move as she breathed- but thankfully, thank god, she had given the go ahead to touch. To taste. "Okay. I definitely can do that." He murmured, his thumb continuing its slow circles on her clit as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone.

His lips trailed lower, his kisses growing more intentional. The lace of her bralette tickled his lips as he worked his way down. He could see her nipples hardening beneath the fabric, making his mouth water. His thumb continued its steady, slow rhythm on her clit, causing her to shift slightly in his lap. It was surreal to feel her breathing, hear it so close up as he kissed over her pounding heart.

He was doing this to her. Harry was making her wet, making her squirm. The confidence the breathy moan she let out had him pushing for more. With one hand, he gently pushed the lace down to expose one breast fully, making her gasp softly. His lips immediately found her hard nipple, surrounding it completely and sucking gently.

“Oh, Jesus.” The words were pathetically, a mewl that came from the back of her throat as his hot tongue lapped over her swollen nipple. The suction was light, soft, just like his thumb on her clit- and it was enough to make her feel like she was going insane. “T-That’s really fucking nice.” She praised, raising her hand to card it through his fluffy curls. He must have just washed them, they always looked pretty when he did.

Hearing her moan like that, praising him so freely, sent a jolt straight to his cock. He hummed around her nipple, the vibrations deliberate this time. His tongue flicked over the hardened bud before he switched to sucking harder, desperate to elicit another gorgeous noise from her.

“Yeah- like that.” Rocking her hips slightly into his hand, she pulled his head closed onto her breast. It felt too good, too hot to stop. Yeah, this was a lesson, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy teaching him. “Some girls won’t get much enjoyment out of this. Their nipples aren’t sensitive to it as much. If they aren’t responsive, you can keep it moving- or a-ask them if they want you to keep going.” Her voice was higher in pitch than she had meant for it to be but it wasn’t possible for her to control that right now. “I really like it, though. So it’s doing the job. You can rub my clit a little harder- give it more pressure.”

Her words had him nearly purring around her nipple. The little thrill went up his spine as her hips rolled into his hand, knowing that now he had a decent idea of what he was doing and could feel less nervous about it. Listening to instructions like he had promised he would, Harry added more pressure to his thumb, rubbing it harder over her little bundle of nerves. It was impossible not to feel her getting slicker against his palm, her breast filled his mouth perfectly, his tongue swirling around the peak before sucking it back between his lips. Almost overstimulation for his mind, but he wanted to keep going. He was trying his best to be good with his hands- he really was- But damn. Her body was so responsive.

Y/N wanted to continue this as long as she could. She wanted to feel him get more and more confident with it, but he seemed to have a grasp on it. There would probably be… a few times where they’d get to do this, and if she was honest? If they kept this up, she was going to cum and be too sensitive for his mouth. And by the way he kissed? She wanted to feel his mouth.

“Mmmm.. Har, Honey.” She whispered, gently tugging his mouth off of her tits with a gentle tug of his hair. “Hi. Hello.” It was stupidly cute, the slightly lost look on his face. “S’okay. You were doing good. A bit too good actually. I just think that we should get to teaching you how to eat pussy. I’ll cum if you keep going.”

He blinked rapidly, a slightly dazed look on his face as he tried to process why he’d been pulled away when he’d obviously been making her feel good. It felt incredible to have her nipple in his mouth, hearing her soft noises of pleasure. The haze of lust in his mind slowly cleared at her words, realizing she was probably right, even if he selfishly wanted to keep going. "Oh..." He murmured softly, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. "Right. Okay." He adjusted his glasses, trying to regain some semblance of focus.

“Good.” She stroked his hair back with a tender smile, pulling him to kiss her again before taking a look at his face. “I’m gonna lay back, like this.” Sliding off his lap, Y/N settled against the arm of the couch pulling a pillow to rest her head on. The position had her sitting up slightly, but gave a more relaxed vision. Hopefully that would have him feeling calmer. “And you’re gonna lay between my legs once I get these off.” Her bottoms needed to get off immediately.

When he sat back, she tugged on the waistband and squirmed to get them off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor- along with her panties. There wasn’t much hesitance in showing her body to him. Y/N liked her body, she felt proud of it, and she embraced it. There was always those nerves though, being intimate with someone new- even if it was for a lesson. Spreading her thighs, she placed a hand over her cunt and motioned for him to lay down. “Do you remember what I said, Honey? About teasing?”

He nodded slowly, trying to remember all the instructions she had given him. "Tease first..." He murmured softly, adjusting his glasses nervously as he positioned himself between her thighs. Using his elbows to keep him up a bit, he swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched her spread them wider for his body to fit between. "Kiss, lick, don't go straight for the... the main event?" He asked hesitantly, his hands resting on her inner thighs.

“Very good.” Her face lit up as he looked at her for reassurance. “It’s the little things that get me. You know? The soft brushing of fingers on the thighs, the stomach, right above my pussy…” She trailed off with a sigh. “Kiss my thighs, Har. Can you do that for me?” Taking her hand off her cunt, she properly revealed it for the first time for his eyes to see.

Harry felt the breath catch in his throat as the sight of her bare pussy caught him off guard. It wasn’t lost on him that he was very lucky to be able to experience this. Y/N was beautiful and he adored her, but there was a new appreciation in him for how kind she was being. This wasn’t something you could just ask anyone. "Fuck..." He whispered, his hands squeezing her inner thighs gently as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the delicate skin. "Like this?" He murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive skin, his lips brushing over the crease where her leg met her hip.

“Mhm.”

He could see her body relax into the touch, her thighs parting a bit more to give him better access. Her skin was so soft and warm under his lips, and he could smell her scent growing stronger the closer he got to her center. Harry took his time, pressing gentle kisses along her inner thighs, his hands brushing along the skin in a featherlight touch. He could hear her breathing growing a bit shallower, her chest rising and falling a bit faster. It emboldened him to continue, to keep teasing her like she had told him to.

"You're... you're doing so good." Y/N breathed out, one hand coming to rest in his hair as she spread her legs wider, hooking one over his shoulder. She could feel herself growing wetter with each kiss, more aroused knowing he was taking his time to learn her body. Such a good little student. "Lower. Just a bit..." she whispered, guiding his head with gentle fingers. Her other hand drifted down to her breast, plucking at her nipple as she watched him between her legs. "Kiss right above my cunt.”

Eagerly following her guidance, he moved up to press a soft kiss just above her pussy, his lips brushing against her soft curls. He could feel the heat radiating off of her, smell her arousal. It was intoxicating, and he found himself nuzzling into her a bit, his nose pressing against her. "Fuck, you smell so good..." he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin. He pressed another kiss right at the top of her slit.

“Oh fuck- that was good.” She gasped in surprise. “That’s filthy. Rubbing yourself against me but… it’s so hot. Showing how eager you are to make the person you’re gonna pleasure, it’s really sexy.” Brushing his hair out of his face, she felt the heat of his breath over her cunt. “Tell me you want to eat me out. Talk to me.”

"I do..." His voice came out huskier than he'd planned, his eyes flicking up to meet hers briefly before focusing back on her exposed pussy. "Fuck, Y/N... I really want t’taste you." Without waiting for further instruction, he used his fingers to spread her open for him and pressed a gentle kiss directly to her clit, making her gasp loudly. "You're so fucking wet… Can’t believe I did this." His finger traced down her slit slowly, as if showing instead of telling how aroused she was.

"Your cunt is fucking glistening. I can already tell your pussy is sweet..." He muttered against her skin, his tongue peeking out to give her one soft lick. Tasting her for the first time, savoring the flavor on his tongue, he was proving that fact. She was perfect to taste- a pussy like this deserved the best of the best, and he wanted her to show him exactly what she liked. Y/N moaned loudly, her hips rolling slightly, a clear indication that she liked what he was doing. "Yeah? You like that? S’good for you?" Harry asked, his voice encouraging as he licked her again, this time a bit slower, applying a bit more pressure.

“Uh-huh… Shit.” She cussed, feeling his tongue swipe up and over her clit. “D-Do what you want. Let me see where it’s going wrong because right now from my perspective, you’re doing perfectly.” Why would he even need help? Was it a ploy to fuck her? That was doubtful considering Harry really, really wasn’t like that. The worst part was that she was liking it a lot more than she was supposed to. If she was training him on how to pleasure how she liked it, it was going to be hard not to lose it.

Harry smiled slightly at her words, feeling a bit more confident in his actions. He started slowly, his tongue flicking out to lap at her gently, his fingers keeping her open for him to fully access her. He could feel her wetness spread onto his chin, and he couldn't help but push himself, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking softly. He looked up at her, checking her face for any signs of discomfort or pleasure.

He was learning, trying to remember how she had said she liked it. His tongue swiped up again, swirling around her entrance slowly before pushing inside slightly. "Like this?" He mumbled softly, his chin wet with her juices. He kept his movements slow and unhurried, his touch soft. He was tentative, like he was scared of messing up. "Is this good?"

“I.. Normally would say that’s a bit fast to push your tongue in but fuck, that felt nice.” She giggled breathlessly. “Here…” Her fingers were careful as she took his glasses off and tossed them further down the couch so they wouldn’t get in the way- or worse, crushed. “Wanted to see those pretty eyes.” Her fingers kept the hair out of his eyes as she felt a few kisses over her mound, in the thatch of curls above her cunt. His face was slightly wet, but it was erotic. “That feels so nice. The kisses…” She hummed. “You have the instincts. Don’t think too much about it. Doing things like that- That’s good. Just make me feel good. See what I respond to.”

Harry blinked owlishly at her, surprised by the sudden loss of his glasses but pleased when he realized she liked his eyes. His face flushed slightly at the praise, his tongue darting out to lick over her clit hesitantly. "Okay. You’ll tell me if y’don’t like it, yeah?" He asked, his breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. He leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her pussy, the sound drowning out the tv playing at a lowered volume.

She nodded slowly, watching him between her thighs. He was almost shy like this, his face buried in her pussy as he kissed around it sweetly. His lips were soft, his kisses unhurried. He spread her wider with his thumbs, his tongue poking out to give her one slow lick from bottom to top. Her hips shifted slightly, chasing the feeling. "You taste so good." He mumbled softly, his voice sending vibrations against her. “I didn’t expect you t’get so wet for me. Soaking my chin. I love it.”

His words seemed to have struck a chord in her, judging by how sharply her breath hitched and her legs involuntarily tried to press around his head. She visibly flustered, clearly flattered by his filthy compliments- and shocked. Had he always had that in him? "Harry..." She whimpered, the sound of his wet mouth against her flesh combined with his sweet, dirty words making her pulse against his tongue. "You... should be careful with that mouth." She whispered, her hand tangling in his hair again, guiding him slightly without putting any pressure.

He chuckled softly, the vibrations traveling pleasantly through her core. "Why's that?" He murmured teasingly against her skin, his tongue darting out for another long, slow lick. He could feel her practically melting under his mouth, her thighs quivering slightly. This was how it was supposed to be. Maybe it was because he didn’t feel as anxious with her, they had repor, he truly trusted her- but it felt like he had a better sense of her body and what she liked.

She’d given him clues and tips, but he was finding out on his own what she liked. It was something he was enjoying the longer he did it, feeling more eager to bury his face in her pretty pussy and never leave. Especially when he felt her hand tighten in his hair and her body shift to get more. "Worried I might make you cum too hard?" His tone was playful, a little more confident now, and that was dangerous for her. Feeling him nipp gently at her clit, soothing it with a flicker of his tongue immediately after was enough proof of that. Looking up at her he tried to see if that was okay, but the noise she let out had him feeling fairly sure it was.

"Fuck, Harry... You smartass.” The giggle turned into a pitched moan very quickly after though, her back arching as he sucked on her clit in retaliation, her hips rolling against his mouth. Harry could feel her getting closer, her pussy getting wetter. He knew the signs, she was teaching him. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he licked into her eagerly. She was so responsive, her body reacting to his every move. He felt powerful, in control- and it was a heady feeling.

"Jesus, your pussy is perfect." He mumbled between kisses, not caring if she could hear him. He could see her getting close- her thighs trembling, her breathing quickening, and the way her fingers were now tight in his hair. That was his goal. He wanted to make her cum so fucking bad it hurt. His cock was a mess in his trousers but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to make her cum, hard. He wanted to clean it up as he made himself messy. "Do you want my fingers inside you?" He whispered, not missing a beat with his mouth returning to his suckling. He kept the pace steady but increased the pressure just slightly, wanting to hear her response.

"Yes..." Y/N breathed out the single word, squirming helplessly against his face. His mouth felt incredible and he obviously felt better about what he was doing now, taking more risks that only worked out in her favor. "So good, honey. You’re doing so good, your mouth is perfect."

How had he been bad with these other women? All it took was a little bit of instruction with a soft voice and he was licking into her like she was his last fucking meal.

She gasped, her nails nearly digging into his scalp as he slipped one finger inside her easily. "Your fingers are so big. Holy shit..." She panted, grinding down on his hand. "More..." She begged, knowing damn well she hadn’t wanted to be this needy for it but god damn. He was a good student. A very fast learner. "Please." The woman’s voice cracked with need. "Harry, please..."

He curled his fingers slightly inside her, hitting that spot he’d read about but had never actually found on a woman before. He must be doing it right, because she was practically sobbing his name, her hips bucking against his hand. He added another finger, stretching her slowly but surely, his tongue never stopping its slow, deliberate lapping.

It was obvious what she liked, what made her feel good, and he wanted to keep doing it. Memorize it so he knew how to do it perfectly next time- or continue practicing until he had it down. His head felt fuzzy with the need to get her there, to make her feel hot under the skin like he had been clueless about before. "Look at me." he mumbled against her, his voice muffled but insistent. He wanted to see her face contort with pleasure, wanted to watch her get closer.

It felt like her entire world had narrowed down to his fingers inside her and his tongue on her clit. It really had been far too long since she’d been touched and even longer since she had been eaten out with this amount of vigor. Maybe it hadn’t ever happened prior to him, but her brain wasn’t fully working. She was so close, teetering on the edge and he just... he just kept pushing her. Adding more, curling just right, licking and sucking in a rhythm that seemed designed to drive her insane.

Y/‘ couldn’t see him fully, not with his face buried smugly between her thighs, but she managed to lift her head, her eyes finding his own as he had demanded. The intensity in his gaze, the desperate need, it was too much. “Just like that, you’re going t’make me cum. Just like that, keep it like that- fuck.” Her groan seemed angry but it was anything but. She was worked over and sulking at how good it felt. “Shit, you love eating pussy. Don’t you, Harry? Just needed s-someone to show you how they like it.”

"Fuck yeah." He breathed against her, his eyelids drooping with pleasure at her accusation. He loved this, every fucking second. The slick sounds of her arousal, the way her pussy clenched around his fingers, the taste, how she grabbed at his hair, the sounds she made, the changes in her breathing, her squirming, the way her words slurred a little bit, the pulsing against his tongue.

God. Harry fucking loved it- he just didn’t know it could be this good. Addicting.

The vibrations as he groaned happily between her lips had to be adding something extra. "Knew I'd love it. Jus’ want to be able to make you feel good."

"Cum on my face baby, okay? Just let go. I wanna taste you." He whispered hoarsely, pressing a sloppy kiss to her clit before sucking it back into his mouth. His fingers curled again and again inside her, hitting that elusive spot over and over as she dripped all over his fingers and down the back of his hand. He wanted to make her shatter, wanted to feel her cum all over his face and fingers like he had been working toward.

There was no way she could even respond properly. The constant stimulation to her g-spot, his repeated sucking on her clit, the way he sloppily ate her cunt with little regard of the mess she was making on his face- the only thing he seemed to give a fuck about was making her cum. Who was she to take that from him?

Her body tensed, her back arching as she let out a long, drawn-out moan. It was a sound of pure pleasure, her entire being focused on the overwhelming sensation of him working her over. She came hard, her pussy clamping down on his fingers as she gushed all over his face and hand. Her hand was tight in his locks, tugging as a garbled moan left her mouth and she attempted to writhe. He kept her held still as he moaned loudly against her.

In fact, Harry didn’t stop. Even as she came, he kept eating her, his fingers still curled inside her as he lapped up her cum, cleaning her up. He was fucking starving for it, for the taste and the sound and the feeling of her losing control. He sucked and licked her pussy, feeling it spasming occasionally, until he was certain he had cleaned up every last drop- And her weak push of her hand against his head. Only then did he slowly pull his fingers out, his face and hand coated in her.

She was a goddess, slumped back against the cushions with a flushed, dazed expression. Harry couldn't help but kiss her inner thigh as it twitched before wiping his mouth. "Fuck, you’re amazing." The man murmured. Crawling up her body, he claimed her lips in a messy kiss, letting her taste herself. “Thank you.” It was mumbled between lazy kisses. “Thank you, Thank you.”

His hands roamed over her as he continued to kiss her sloppily, his body heavy on top of hers. He was still fully dressed, his erection painfully trapped in his pants. "Y/N... I’m sorry, but can I?" He asked softly, his fingers already working at the button of his jeans, his intent clear. "I gotta cum. Can I cum on your cunt? Please?” If he wasn’t so horny he would be embarrassed for doing this, but he was losing it. When it died down, he would definitely be embarrassed for how insane he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe the lack of blood flow to the head, it was going directly to the other.

“Shit.” Y/N laughed weakly, her body feeling like pins and needles as it came down from the orgasm. The idea was one she had considered, especially with how good he had listened- a reward. “Yeah, Honey. As a reward.” She sighed, leaning her head up further. “I wanna watch.”

He almost whined at her words, practically tearing his jeans open wide enough to pull out his stiff cock. He pushed his pants down towards his calves, staying there between her spread legs. His hand gripped his dick tightly, squeezing as he looked up at her face from his spot between her legs. "Yeah- yeah, please watch. I love being watched.” His hips moved forward unconsciously as he ran his cock over her, the head of his dick smearing pre-cum all over her cunt.

“Cute little exhibitionist.” Y/N cooed, running her hand over her stomach. “Go ahead. You’ve got such a pretty cock, but it looks like it hurts.” Her lips formed a soft pout. “Stroke yourself and cum all over that pussy, Harry.”

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He chanted under his breath, his hand moving faster over his shaft. With his tip pressing against her clit, he ran it up and down her slit. "You're so pretty. Your cunt is beautiful- all of you, so fucking gorgeous." He complimented her, his words coming out in short gasps. It was so hot, the way her lips spread around him, how she looked all fucked out and messy from his mouth. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum all over you, baby."

Y/N looked up at him with a soft, encouraging smile, her eyes staring into his with that tinge of desire. "Cum for me, Harry. Cum all over my pretty little pussy. I wanna see it, I wanna see you lose it." Her hand moved down to spread herself, holding herself open for him. "You've been so good, so obedient. You deserve it. Such a good student, a fast learner… You can have it. Cum on my cunt." Her voice was gentle but commanding, the perfect blend of sweet and dirty that had him right on the edge.

"Fuck, Y/N..." Harry whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut as her words pushed him over the edge. With a final thrust of his hips, he came undone. He felt the first spurt of his hot, sticky cum hit her pussy lips, coating them in his release. He groaned loudly, his body shuddering as he pumped out rope after rope of cum, covering her cunt completely. "Oh my god... Oh my god."

Even as he finished cumming, a few last spurts dribbling out to make a mess across her lower stomach, he couldn't look away from where his cum coated her pussy lips, right in her thatch curls and the surrounding skin. It was obscene, filthy, and he loved it. Y/N had made him lose his mind a bit, but he didn’t really want to find it.

Breathing heavily, he finally met her gaze with a slightly embarrassed but mostly pleased grin. "Holy fuck, that was hot." He murmured, swallowing hard. "Never done that before. Came so fucking hard..."

"Good, cause you made a mess." She giggled, watching him as his chest heaved. The sight of his stomach and abs glistened with a light sheen of sweat- his hair was ruffled and he looked like he’d had a workout instead of jerking off on her body. "You like that, I think. Making a mess." She asked softly, watching as he continued to stroke himself slowly, milking himself. Her eyes were drawn back to his dick. It really was beautiful- and really fucking big. “Where the hell were you hiding that? God damn.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at her comment, glancing down at his slowly softening dick with a smirk. "Guess I just needed the right inspiration, huh?" He teased lightly, finally releasing his grip on himself and leaning forward to rest his forearms on either side of her head, caging her in slightly. His face was mere inches from hers now, his glasses gone and his hair disheveled in the sexiest way possible. “Just need t’do this before we clean up and act normal again. Don’t yell at me.”

His mouth claimed hers slowly, lips moving softly against hers. He licked into her mouth slowly, like he was savoring her taste, his body half covering hers. His hand cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss slowly, like he was trying to imprint himself onto her. Just as quick as it started though, it was over. She shouldn’t have been so sad about that. He pulled back slowly, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes opened slowly to find her watching him softly, their lips still wet and swollen from the kiss. He grinned slightly, licking his lips again. “See? Not so bad.”

“Yeah.” She laughed, feeling dazed. Who the fuck was this? And why did he kiss so good it made her toes curl? Who was this and what had they done to her best friend? “I think your problem isn’t that you don’t have skill. Naturally you seem to get it. I think you’ve just gotten into your own head and you think too much.” She had been a safe person and it was easier for him to lose that anxiety with her, knowing she had already agreed to teach him.

“It can be hard to perform if you’re not able to properly get into it. Your dick can be hard as nails, but your mind not being in it will be a mood killer and they’re gonna know.” The smile on her face was slightly sad but she knew it was what he had to hear. “Because honestly? I haven’t orgasmed like that in ages. All it took was a few tweaks and you had it down. Maybe you just aren’t a hookup guy. Did that feel a lot different than the other people?” Maybe he needed someone who could openly communicate. The expectation of someone just knowing wasn’t always fair.

"Yeah." He hesitated, shifting slightly to prop himself up on one elbow next to her. His other hand traced patterns on her stomach absentmindedly. "It was... different." He seemed to struggle with the words for a moment. "With those other girls, I was always nervous. Overthinking every single fucking thing. Like you said." He glanced at her face, a slight blush forming across his cheeks. "With you... it felt natural. Real. And fuck, listening to you moan like that… Where did those lungs come from?"

“You freak!” She laughed, pushing his shoulder to get him to sit up. Adjusting her bralette back over her breasts she didn’t bother with the bottoms yet, because she really needed to go clean up. Secretly she was pleased that she had been different. It was so cliche to say it, but she wanted to be different than them. She just… wasn’t quite sure why yet. Her brain hadn’t come back down to earth fully and she couldn’t be bothered to truly question it. “You won’t need many lessons on how to pleasure a woman with results like that, I’m telling you that. Good job.” Reaching out, she squished his cheeks with a soft coo before he shot her a look.

"Oi!" He laughed, swatting her hand away playfully but with a big smile on his face. "Don't treat me like a puppy. And..." He hesitated, reaching up to cup her face gently, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "Did it really feel that good? I mean." His voice dropped to a slightly embarrassed whisper. "Am I actually good at this stuff?" For someone who had just made her orgasm so hard, he suddenly seemed insecure again. Like he needed validation. "I know you don’t lie like that, but it just feels weird. Cause everyone else seemed disappointed… I thought I’d be completely awful.”

“Oh, H.” She frowned at his vulnerability. “It was really good for me. I think maybe you just need some lessons on how to let go and relax when you’re being intimate. And I’m happy to teach you that.” Brushing her hand over his stubble she gave his chin a pinch. “Trust me. I’d tell you if you needed a lot of work. It can be hard for women to cum from oral sometimes too. It’s hit or miss for me, and you had me cumming so easily so, I would say it was probably a mix of feeling safe and you having some good natural instincts you couldn’t tap into before because you were anxious and your brain was in overdrive.” Pulling him into a hug, she squeezed him lightly as she inhaled his scent. He smelled like mint and sex, with a tinge of laundry detergent. Appropriate.

“When I’m done with you, we’ll have it all squared away and figured out. Okay? Don’t think about those times. Think about the fact you’re gonna get to fuck your really hot best friend.” Standing up from the couch with a laugh and a pat to his head, she walked to the bathroom to get herself clean- and take a minute to breathe. Her chest was doing a weird thing it hadn’t before and she didn’t want to think about it. “Hey, can you order something from that cookie place to be delivered while I shower please? Use my phone, my card is already in the app. Thank youuuu.”

He watched her leave, a small smile on his face at her words. It was a relief to hear that he wasn't completely incompetent. Flopping back against the cushions, he stared at her ceiling fan as it whirred around with a content sigh.

As requested, he ordered a batch of her favorite cookies from the nearby bakery, adding a special request for extra chocolate chips with a small chuckle. She had ordered quite a few times recently, so he had tried to replicate it while adding white choc macadamia for himself. A classic, even if Y/N would wrinkle her nose for them sharing a box.

After submitting it for the delivery, he found himself humming softly, a warmth spreading through his chest at the thought of learning more from her. That had been so good, he felt so relieved that he wasn’t defective- but he did have to wonder how he was going to be this comfortable with anyone else. Y/N was easy to unwind around. It was hard to imagine him getting as comfortable with anyone else in the way he was with her.

Getting closer to her in a vulnerable and intimate way was sure to grow their friendship. He couldn’t really see it backfiring. Their friendship was too strong.

Right?

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