#SERIOUSLY WE’RE FINE OVER HERE.
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fisherrprince · 3 months ago
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classyrbf · 1 month ago
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THAT D!CK IS A 10/10! — JJK MEN
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SYNOPSIS...an analysis on the jjk men’s dicks just because hehe :)
INFO...jjk men x gn!reader, we’re talking about cock and balls a lot (no seriously), cum analysis, where they like to cum, heavy detail (be warned), im trying to make this a little realistic so no, gojo will not have a 12 inch dick (sorry not sorry), not proofread
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
here’s a little something while I’m being a busy bee and dealing with life (help me)
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GOJO
to start off, gojo isn’t too big or isn’t small either, if anything he’s just perfect (cause he is perfect duh). He’s around 3 inches soft and 6.6 inches hard. Listen, as much as I want to make this man have the hugest dick ever, he does not and it’d cause an extreme amount of pain every time he is pounding you. He’s not too girthy either, just the average 4.3. His also slightly curves upward which is perfect for hitting your sweet spot. But he’s super sensitive on the tip! So if you tease him too much there he might just cum prematurely. His balls are definitely a decent size too, they may be on the bigger side a little but he loves to have his balls played with so have fun! When gojo cums, he cums a lot! It literally will go all over the place if he can’t control it correctly. It’s spurts out in waves and it sometimes it’s like torture cause it makes his orgasms last longer but god does it feel so good. His cum is sort of thin and runny instead of thick and goopy with a slight salty taste.
NANAMI
i personally feel like nanami is fucking packing girth wise! He is slightly smaller than gojo around like 5.75-6 inches but he is fucking girthy! It’s like a damn weapon and it’s heavy (I’ll help you carry it around nanami, don’t you worry). His girth is around 5.5-6 inches and it’s veiny! Lord help us all because he knows how to use that thing, hitting all the right angles. From being so girthy his cock slightly hangs…So what comes with a fat cock? Big breeder balls! Duh! His balls are so fat and big it’s like an instinct to suck and lick on them. He leaks a lot of precum when he’s hard so it just drips from his cock until he cums so hard. Speaking of cum, unlike gojo he has more of a thicker consistency, and instead of spurting out all over, it just flows from his cock and it’s looks so pretty like a fountain. It drips all down his cock and balls and onto his hand if he’s jerking himself off. When he’s fucking you, he definitely cums inside and just fucks his cum into you over and over until he makes a big mess.
TOJI
my man, my man, my man! Toji is definitely bigger than nanami and gojo but only by like 1-2 inches. So he’s around 7 inches which is still scary bc why are just walking around with that? He’s definitely girthy too but not like nanami, he’s more girthy around the tip of his cock and it gets slightly smaller towards the base but it’s not a huge difference. He’s tip gets really pink and red when he’s hard that it almost looks painful (don’t worry baby I’m on my way to help) but I promise he’s fine. Dare I say that doesn’t trim that often???? I feel like he has a slightly bush, nothing too crazy but it’s kind of grown out. He doesn’t care (me neither) as long as he gets laid he’s fine. His balls are mix of nanami and gojos but they hang! So when he’s fucking you they definitely slap against your skin. When toji cums it’s pretty normal, it’s sometimes shoots out a little bit and then slows down after, but it’s definitely a good amount of cum that does come out quickly. He loves to see your face or your chest covered in it because he’s a pervy little bastard for sure.
GETO
pretty boy geto hehe…let’s just say that thing curves to the left okay? He’s around 6.5-7 inches and girthy so let’s pray for everyone’s holes cause I don’t think we are making it out alive. He’s somewhere between nanami’s and Toji’s girth so…do what you will with that info. His dick is so pretty though, a pretty dick for a pretty face, the curtains match the drapes yk? He has two prominent veins that run on the underside of his dick where he’s really sensitive. If you look closely you’ll see them pulsing when he’s hard. His tip is also a very pretty pink color while his shaft and base are slightly darker than his skin tone. His balls aren’t too big either so it’s definitely more about his dick. He doesn’t cum a lot either surprisingly, he’s never been the cum everywhere and get super messy type of person but if hasnt had sex or jerked off it’ll be more than usual.
CHOSO
choso is closer to nanamis size, maybe a little smaller but not a huge difference. His is pretty average but there is nothing wrong with that (can I get free ride???). Just like geto he also has a very pink tip and his shaft is the same color as his skin. His girth is around Gojo’s but he has some big balls that are just asking to licked and sucked fr. Baby boy gets so whiny when he’s hard and leaking that he’s almost embarrassed by it, he tries to control it but he literally can’t stop getting so hard to point it drives him insane. His cum is stringy and thick, like the perfect consistency for cumming on your face, chest, ass, literally anywhere. He cums a normal amount, usually spurts out super quickly and then slows down towards the end of his orgasm.
SUKUNA
where do I even begin??? Clearly, this mf is the biggest out of all of them. He’s scary asf because he has two, yes, two dicks that are practically identical. 8-9 inches long, 4.7 girth. End my life. THIS MF GOT 4 LEGS. It’s actually cruel. They’re thicker towards the base and gradually get narrow towards the tip. So at first, the stretch doesn’t seem that bad until you realize you got about 7 inches more to go…yeah. His cocks are darker than the rest of his body and his tips are sort of like a light pink/tan color. The only difference between his cocks is that one is super veiny and the other quite literally has like 3 veins. Fat breeder balls that hang, swing, touch the floor (I’m jk) but literally the mix of toji and nanamis balls. They hold so much cum, he can literally go round for round back to back and fill up every hole of yours without taking a break. And he cums so much that it’s actually concerning. Like nanami, its overflows maybe once in a while it will shoot out.
HIGURUMA
believe it or not I think this man is packing at least 7-8 inches. It may not look like it but I think he does! He never brags about it either so it’s really hard to guess. When he’s hard his dick touches his belly button…and his balls are somewhere between Geto’s and Gojo’s size so they’re kinda average. The color is slightly tan maybe like one shade darker and he has a pale pink tip. Did I mention he has a fat tip?? It seems like it gets even bigger when he’s hard, all swollen and everything. His girth is pretty average too like Gojo’s maybe slightly bigger like 4.5 but that’s it. Higuruma doesn’t cum that much it like toji where it’s a pretty normal amount. His cum isn’t super white either, it’s kind of on the clear side and super stringy which is perfect for cumming on your tongue imo
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moodyvoid · 4 months ago
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Imagine you and Tomura are out on a mission, when you hear the distinct sound of crying— a baby crying.
You follow the noise and find a baby, lying on top of garbage bags in a dumpster.
You go to pick them up and Tomura stops you, “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.
“We’re not leaving them here.” You argue, as if he’s stupid.
“You’re not seriously suggesting we take a baby back to the hideout? We’re not babysitters. The league isn’t a place for babies.” He argues back, as if you’re more stupid.
“Tomura, they’re a baby. They’re helpless… defenseless… vulnerable! What if it were you all alone in an alleyway, begging for help?” you ask.
Tomura pauses as he stares at you, his eyes drifting over to the baby, but his mind clearly fixated on something else.
He sees snippets of him walking the streets alone, small, and scared. Begging for someone— anyone— to do something. Like a nightmare, he remembers taking refuge in an alleyway, his tiny hands still covered in dried blood. Why won’t anyone help?—
“Tomura?” You ask, him snapping out of his thoughts. He looks down in his arms, realizing he’s holding the baby.
He quickly places the baby in your arms. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me when you can’t handle playing house anymore.”
Cut to hours later, Tomura is sitting with the baby in his lap as he plays Mortal Kombat. “That’s called a Fatality.”
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wriokitty · 3 months ago
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content includes: female reader, drunk reader + mentions of alcohol, modern + non curse au sukuna, established relationship, unnamed friends, reader makes one (1) dick sucking joke, reader dips fries into shakes because she’s elite like that, he carries reader
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It’s half past midnight when he comes to pick you up. Your face sours as soon as you see him, taking an instinctive step back.
“Nuh uh,” you say, wagging a finger back and forth in his face as he scowls. “It’s girl’s night. No men allowed—we’ve been over this!”
“As if I wanna join your stupid girl’s night,” he scoffs. Sukuna is tired. (Of you). It’s too late at night to be worrying about what ditch you’re going to end yourself up in after lord knows how many drinks, so regrettably, he takes matters into his own hands.
It’s a good thing he does, too, he thinks with a flare of his nostril as he eyes the drunk, mess of a woman that’s supposed to be your ride home. Designated driver my ass, he all but grumbles under his breath.
“Hey—” he looks over to the side with an irritated flick of his eyes as a hand smacks his shoulder. Your friend (in not better condition than you) levels him with a snarky look before she hisses, “You heard her! It’s girl’s night. Go away.”
Sukuna ignores her—because, well, that’s what he always does anyway. She talks far too much to be considered a normal amount, and he doesn’t like the shrill sound of her voice. Instead, he turns to you, gives you a firm, scolding look before he grunts, “We are going home. Now.”
You seem to catch onto the stern tone of his voice because within seconds, you’re slumping against him as you whine, “Fine,” with a pout. “Mean.”
“Yeah?” He snorts, “You know what’s meaner? Nasty men who find girls passed out in the middle of the streets. Now let’s go. We’re going home—all of you.”
A chorus of whines and petty insults makes him want to grab a drink himself—being inebriated seems like the only way your friends are tolerable, but as annoying as they are, he refuses to leave them here wasted.
So he does the noble thing, and sacrifices his ear drums as they play whatever stupid pop song is trending on the radio at full volume down the streets, heads sticking out of the windows and screaming the lyrics out to innocent passerby’s.
Sukuna is just a guy. Not the best, most chivalrous or charitable guy, maybe—but just a guy, all the same. He’s not done anything wrong to deserve this torture. He’s been nothing but a kind (usually) boyfriend that loves you unconditionally (most of the time), supports you wholeheartedly (when it suits him), listens to your problems (if he’s in the mood), and makes you feel special (as long as it doesn’t inconvenience him).
Still, he’s stuck basically being an uber driver—for free, no less—to your ungrateful, bratty, obnoxious friends that aren’t pretty enough to enjoy your company in the first place. They don’t even thank him when they get out as he drops them off one by one to their homes, opting to say goodbye to you as if you’re the one who pays for the gas in his car.
Finally, the last of your friends (who he likes to consider nuisances) leaves, freeing him of anymore radio pop songs and unnaturally loud giggles.
He grumbles as you ask, “Can we get milkshakes?”
“No.”
“Please?” You whine, “I want strawberry.”
“That’s great,” he says sarcastically, “The answer’s still no.”
“Please, please, please, Kuna? I’ll suck your dick on the drive there—”
“Jesus, what’s the matter with you?” He hisses, fighting back flushed cheeks as he glares at you once the car rolls to a stop at a red light.
Usually, he’s the one making such lewd comments and getting under your skin—but lacking in sobriety is seriously forcing the two of you to switch roles. He’s starting to wonder if maybe he should be nicer to you—you deal with a lot. (Not that he’s mean. He considers himself a pretty generous boyfriend).
“I’ll even pay,” you offer.
“You didn’t bring a wallet, so it looks like I’ll have to pay,” he says blandly.
You grin, giving him an innocent smile as you excitedly ask, “So that’s a yes?”
“Are you going to be quiet if I say yes?” He clicks his teeth in thinly-veiled irritation.
You grin, nodding enthusiastically.
Well, he thinks bitterly, so much for no more pit stops.
It’s not long until he’s pulling into the drive-thru of the nearest fast food joint, rolling his window down to order your stupid, late night request.
“We’ll take one strawberry milkshake, please,” he says gruffly.
“Anything else?” Comes the tired reply of whoever is taking his order.
“No—”
“And large fries, please!” You lean over him to shout out the window and make sure the poor worker hears you. Sukuna glares, (gently) pushing you back into your seat as he hisses, “Put your seatbelt on! And you asked for a milkshake, not a damn meal.”
“Fries aren’t a meal,” you huff, “And they’re good dipped in the shake. You can’t have one without the other.”
“No—”
“I’ll scream that I’m being kidnapped,” you warn, “I want my fries.”
“Fucking fine,” he throws his hands up, exasperatedly caving to your request because, yeah, having some drunk, half-conscious woman in his front seat screaming bloody murder about being abducted at two a.m. is not a good look to a stranger that doesn’t know any better. “One strawberry milkshake and large fucking fries and that’s it,” he growls to the other person through the drive-thru speaker.
It’s not the poor employee’s fault, and he knows it, but he’s too tired and sleep-deprived to care about his snarky attitude.
“It’ll be ready at the window,” the man speaks tiredly, completely unphased.
“Yay!” You squeal.
It’s a pretty bothersome task to have to stop the car five minutes after receiving the food just to open the lid of your cup for you so that you can dip your fries into your milkshake easier, but he figures it’s better than a tiring drive home. Or worse, a spill all over his car seats at your own attempt.
He glances over at you wearily as he finally (hopefully) starts to drive home, watching as you dip your french fries into your frozen drink and happily eat away. He crinkles his eyes at the combination.
He’ll never understand people’s unnatural obsession with pairing anything remotely salty and sweet together.
“My friends think you’re weird,” you hum, taking a handful of fries to your mouth as you say between chewing, “They say you’re intense. Like, scary intense. But I told them, that’s just his face.”
Finally, a small smile cracks on his face, breaking through the grumpy, tired exterior. He snorts, shaking his head. “Drunk you has way too much to say.”
“Drunk me is honest,” you retort, clutching your fries to your chest as you huff, “Now I’m not sharing my fries anymore.”
“You weren’t going to anyway,” he rolls his eyes.
Finally, his car pulls into a familiar parking spot, just outside of your shared home as he parks and turns to you. You giggle at him before humming, “How’d you know?”
“Because you never do,” he rolls his eyes.
“That’s because this relationship is 50/50! You buy the food, and I eat it.”
“Yeah?” He snorts, shaking his head—still, there’s something endearing about the way you clutch your fries close to your chest, as if guarding them with your life. He leans over, snatching one easily anyway, smirking in amusement when you gasp and pout at the gesture.
“Hey! That’s mine!”
“Yeah, whatever,” he grunts, fighting back a fond grin before he asks, “Let’s go. We’re going in.”
With that, he comes around to your side of the car, pulling you out and hoisting you up to carry you bridal style as he marches over to the front door. Sighing happily, you admire his face as he walks.
“Thanks,” you murmur.
He raises a brow, mildly shocked. “For?”
“For bringing me home. Same time next week?”
He chuckles, pressing a soft, affectionate kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely not. No more girl’s nights with those shit shows.”
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pucksandpower · 2 months ago
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Malfunction
Franco Colapinto x physician!Reader
Summary: Franco’s concussion has come and gone, but his desire to see the angel of a physician who likely saved his life has only gotten stronger … it’s just a shame that he tends to lose any semblance of composure when you’re around
Note: this is the much requested second part to Malpractice … but even better than the first part if I do say so myself 🫣
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The Las Vegas Grand Prix is a distant blur in Franco’s memory. The crash. The pain. The disorientation.
But there’s something else that lingers, too. Something soft that refuses to leave him alone.
It’s the image of you, kneeling in front of him, your hands steady even as his world spun. Your voice cutting through the haze, your gaze sharp and intense, demanding his attention. The way you pushed him to stay alert, to pay attention, to focus on something other than the chaos in his head.
Franco knows he owes his sanity, maybe even his life, to you.
It’s been a week since the crash, and he’s been cleared by the medical team to race again in Qatar, despite a lingering headache that’s been stubbornly hanging on. But it’s not the headache that’s bothering him. It’s the fact that you’re not here. You’re not at the track. Not in the garage. Not hovering over him like some kind of guardian angel.
He wants to see you again. Needs to.
He’s sitting in the Williams debrief room, surrounded by engineers who are talking a mile a minute about tire wear and lap times. But Franco is barely listening. He keeps checking his phone, hoping for some sort of miracle: a text, a call, anything that might tell him you’re here. That you’ve returned to the paddock.
But the screen stays empty.
“Franco, are you with us?” James Vowles’ voice cuts through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present.
“Yeah, sorry,” Franco mutters, rubbing his eyes. “What were you saying about tire strategy?”
James raises an eyebrow. “It’s fine. Focus on your recovery. We’re just going over the data from today’s practice. You’ve got time. But-” He looks around, making sure no one else is listening, “-don’t be distracted during qualifying tomorrow. We need every bit of performance we can get from you this weekend.”
“Right.” Franco nods, but his mind drifts again, his gaze slipping back to his phone. It’s like the rhythm of the weekend has been broken without you here, without the sharpness of your voice telling him he’s being an idiot, without your soft, steady presence making everything feel a little more manageable.
A soft knock sounds at the door, and Alex steps in, his casual smile immediately making the room feel a little lighter. His eyes flicker over to Franco. “How’s it going, mate?”
Franco immediately perks up. “Alex! You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He straightens up in his chair, suddenly interested in the conversation.
Alex raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that because you’ve missed me, or because I bring good news?”
“Both,” Franco grins. “But seriously, I’ve been thinking about something, and I need your help.”
Alex folds his arms, giving Franco a knowing look. “Uh oh. What have you gotten yourself into now?”
“It’s about Y/N,” Franco says, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Alex’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t seem too surprised. He sighs, already knowing where this is headed. “Ah, I should’ve known.”
“No, listen,” Franco presses, his voice a little more serious. “I need her to come to Abu Dhabi. She has to be there. I-” He pauses, trying to put his feelings into words. “I’ve been thinking about her all week. I just … I need to see her again.”
Alex raises both hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. You want me to convince her to come to a race just so you can see her again?”
Franco shrugs, looking entirely unapologetic. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
Alex shakes his head, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. “You really have it bad, don’t you?”
Franco hesitates, his smile faltering just slightly, then nods. “I do.” His expression softens. “She helped me when I didn’t even know what was happening. I’ve never had someone take care of me like that.”
Alex takes a moment, studying Franco’s face, then lets out a long breath. “Look, I can’t make any promises. Y/N’s a resident physician. Her schedule is insane. She barely has time to breathe, let alone fly out to the Middle East for a race. But-” He hesitates, as if weighing his next words carefully. “But I’ll ask her. I’ll see what I can do. But no promises, okay?”
“Just ask,” Franco says urgently. “I don’t care if it’s a long shot. I need her there.”
Alex chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll ask. But you owe me a beer if this works.”
“You got it,” Franco grins, already feeling the relief of having put his request into motion. “Thanks.”
***
It’s late by the time you’re wrapping up your shift at the hospital. The weight of your scrubs feels heavier than usual tonight, your body aching after hours of rounds and consultations. You’ve barely slept all week, the demands of your residency taking up every last ounce of energy. All you want to do now is crash into bed and forget about the world for a few hours.
But then your phone buzzes in your pocket, and the familiar name on the screen makes you stop in your tracks.
Alex.
You sigh, glancing around the empty hallway before answering. “Hey, Alex. What’s up?”
“Hey,” Alex greets you, his tone casual but there’s a hint of something else in his voice. “How’s it going?”
You roll your eyes, leaning against the wall. “You know, same old. Patients, paperwork, more patients. I swear, I’m starting to see people’s illnesses in my dreams at this point. What’s up?”
“Well, funny you should mention that,” Alex says with a chuckle, “because I’ve got a bit of a favor to ask.”
You brace yourself. “What now?”
“I need you to come to Abu Dhabi.”
There’s a beat of silence. “What? No. I can’t just drop everything and fly to Abu Dhabi. You know how insane my schedule is right now.”
“I know, I know,” Alex says quickly. “But listen, it’s not for me. It’s for Franco.”
You blink, unsure if you heard him right. “Franco? What does he have to do with this?”
“He, uh, well, he’s been asking about you. He really wants you to come. He … he kind of needs you there, Y/N.”
You frown. “Needs me? What, like for a medical emergency?”
“No, no,” Alex quickly reassures you. “It’s not like that. He’s just — he’s been a bit, you know, off since the crash. He keeps talking about how much you helped him, how much he needs to see you again. He’s … kinda, well, taken with you.”
You pause, processing the unexpected request. “Wait. You want me to go to Abu Dhabi just to … see Franco?”
Alex sighs. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I totally get it if you can’t make it. I just thought I’d put it out there, because he’s really … well, he’s really worried about seeing you again.”
You take a deep breath, staring at the floor. There’s a tug at your chest. Franco’s crash. The way he looked when he stumbled into the garage, his eyes unfocused, his voice thick with concussion. And how you couldn’t help but care, couldn’t help but feel something stir in your chest as you took care of him.
“I don’t know,” you say softly. “I don’t know if I can get time off. I’ve got a million things to do.”
“Please,” Alex pleads, his tone sincere. “Just think about it. I’ll take care of the rest. You don’t have to worry about anything. Just — just come for the weekend. For him.”
You hesitate for a long moment. Your exhaustion is overwhelming, but so is the pull to be there for Franco, to check in on him after everything that happened.
“Okay,” you say finally, your voice quiet but firm. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Alex lets out a relieved breath. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to him.”
“I’ll talk to my supervisor tomorrow and see if I can get a couple of days off. I’ll let you know.”
“Great. I’ll keep you posted. Thanks again, really.”
As the call ends, you press the phone to your ear, staring at the blank hospital hallway. Something in your chest stirs, a mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite name. You promised yourself you wouldn’t get involved with any of these drivers. But Franco … there’s something about him. Something you can’t shake.
You don’t know what’s going to happen in Abu Dhabi. But you know one thing for sure: you’re going to see him again.
***
Franco is buzzing with energy as he walks away from the Williams garage after FP2. The track is alive with its usual Friday hum: team radios squawking, mechanics wheeling equipment, fans pressing against barricades for a glimpse of the action. Normally, this is his favorite part of the weekend — the calm between sessions when he can breathe and think through what’s next.
But today, his thoughts are miles away.
You.
Alex told him you’d agreed to come. He’s spent all week mentally preparing for this moment, imagining what he’ll say when he sees you again. He’d told himself he’d play it cool. That he wouldn’t come off as desperate or weird. That he’d be charming and effortless.
And now, as he walks toward the Williams motorhome, he’s running through those lines in his head like a script. But then, through the glass doors of the motorhome, he spots you.
You’re sitting at a table with Lily, wine glasses between you. You’re mid-laugh, one hand lightly gesturing, the other wrapped around the stem of your glass. The sound of your laugh doesn’t reach him, but your expression — warm and animated — is enough to stop him in his tracks.
Franco stares, frozen. For a second, he’s not a professional driver or a smooth-talking twenty-one-year-old. He’s just a guy, floored by the sight of someone he’s been thinking about far too much.
And then, because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, he walks straight into the glass door.
The sound is embarrassingly loud — a deep, resonant thud that draws the attention of a couple of mechanics nearby. Franco stumbles back, clutching his forehead as the door wobbles slightly on its hinges.
“Oh, come on,” he mutters under his breath, blinking rapidly to clear the stars dancing in his vision.
Inside, Lily gasps, already half out of her chair. But you — you just press a hand to your mouth, visibly trying to suppress a laugh.
Franco pushes the door open this time (successfully, thank God) and steps into the motorhome, trying to salvage whatever remains of his dignity.
“Didn’t know the motorhome was defending itself today,” he says, flashing a crooked grin as he rubs his forehead.
You’re still smiling, but there’s a glint in your eyes as you take a sip of wine. “I see you’re still finding creative ways to injure yourself.”
Lily, standing now, gives him a once-over. “Are you okay? That sounded bad.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Franco says quickly, though he’s still holding his head. “Just testing the structural integrity of the door. Very solid. Great engineering.”
Lily rolls her eyes, muttering something about grabbing an ice pack before disappearing into the kitchen.
You lean back in your chair, tilting your head as you look at him. “You know, you really don’t have to keep hurting yourself just to get my attention. There are easier ways.”
Franco blinks, momentarily thrown off by the teasing edge in your voice. But then he recovers, his grin widening. “Oh, so you noticed me, huh? Mission accomplished.”
You arch an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Hard not to notice when someone face-plants into a door.”
“Ouch,” Franco says, clutching his chest dramatically. “First my head, now my ego. You’re ruthless.”
You laugh, setting your glass down. “I’m a doctor. I call it like I see it.”
“And what do you see?” He asks, leaning casually against the doorframe (or at least trying to — he slightly misjudges the angle and has to correct himself, which makes him look anything but casual).
“I see someone who might need another concussion test if they keep this up,” you say dryly, though there’s a hint of amusement in your tone.
Franco seizes the opening. “Oh, you’ll give me a test? What, right here? Should I sit down? Or maybe lie down? Whatever you need, angel, I’m ready.”
You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch. “I’m off-duty, thank you very much. And stop calling me angel.”
“Why? It suits you,” Franco says without missing a beat. He steps closer, his grin turning just a bit sheepish. “You did save me, after all.”
“From driving with a concussion,” you reply, crossing your arms.
“Still counts,” he says, shrugging. “So … you’re really here. Thought maybe Alex was messing with me.”
You tilt your head, watching him carefully. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know, for fun? He likes to mess with me,” Franco says, his grin turning rueful. “But I’m glad he wasn’t. It’s … it’s good to see you.”
Your expression softens, and you glance down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “It’s good to see you too.”
For a moment, there’s a silence between you. Not awkward, but charged. Franco shifts his weight, scratching the back of his neck. He’s been preparing for this moment all week, but now that you’re standing in front of him, he’s at a loss.
Lily reappears then, an ice pack in hand. She tosses it to Franco, who catches it against his chest. “Here,” she says. “For the door-shaped bruise you’re probably going to have.”
“Thanks,” Franco says, pressing the pack to his forehead. He winces slightly but keeps his gaze on you.
Lily looks between the two of you, her lips twitching as if she’s trying not to laugh. “Well, I’ll leave you two to … whatever this is,” she says, grabbing her glass and retreating toward the other end of the motorhome.
Franco watches her go, then looks back at you, his smile softening. “So … you’re here for the whole weekend?”
You nod. “Lily convinced me to stay. Said I needed a break.”
“You do,” Franco says quickly. “Definitely. Big time.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And why’s that?”
“Because …” Franco hesitates, then decides to go for it. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since Vegas.”
You blink, caught off guard by his honesty. “Franco-”
“I’m serious,” he interrupts, stepping closer. “I know I’m probably coming off like a total idiot right now, but I don’t care. You-” He gestures vaguely, as if struggling to find the right words. “You’re different. You’re not like anyone else here.”
“That’s because I’m not supposed to be here,” you say, your tone light but your eyes searching his. “I’m a doctor, Franco. Not meant for … whatever this world is.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says, shaking his head. “You could be anything, and I’d still want to know you. You’re …” He trails off, then laughs at himself. “God, I’m bad at this.”
You laugh too, finally relaxing. “A little, yeah.”
“But I’m trying,” he says, his expression earnest now. “And I’ll keep trying, even if it means walking into more doors. Or walls. Or whatever else gets in my way.”
You shake your head, exasperated but undeniably charmed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously into you,” Franco counters, grinning.
You groan, but your smile betrays you. “Stop. That was awful.”
“Was it?” Hr teases, leaning just slightly closer.
“Yes,” you say firmly, though there’s a hint of laughter in your voice. “And I’m not letting you use your injuries as an excuse to flirt with me.”
“Then what excuse should I use?” He asks, tilting his head.
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now. “How about none? Just be normal.”
“Normal,” Franco repeats, as if testing the word. “Okay. I can do that. Probably.”
“Somehow, I doubt it,” you say, but your tone is lighter now, your guard lowering just a fraction.
Franco grins, sensing the shift. He might not be smooth, but he’s persistent. And right now, that feels like enough.
***
The hospital hums with its usual rhythm: the sharp beeps of monitors, the steady shuffle of footsteps, and the occasional murmur of voices echoing down sterile hallways. You’re halfway through your shift, mentally cataloging a growing to-do list, when one of the nurses finds you near the break room.
She looks far too amused for your liking, a sly smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Hey, Doc,” she says, her tone conspiratorial. “You’ve got a patient in Room 43. Interesting case. File’s by the door.”
You glance up from your notes, immediately suspicious. “Interesting how?”
“Let’s just say … not your usual trauma,” she replies, her grin widening. “Go see for yourself.”
With a sigh, you grab your tablet and head down the hallway. You’re too tired to entertain the nurse’s cryptic humor, but curiosity tugs at you anyway. When you reach Room 43, you spot the chart hanging by the door. You pick it up and start skimming, your brain automatically processing the medical shorthand.
And then your eyes land on the complaint: penile fracture.
You freeze. Your brain short-circuits for a good five seconds.
Penile fracture. Seriously? You take a deep breath, fighting the urge to laugh or groan. It’s not unheard of, but it’s rare enough to make your day a little more … colorful.
Squaring your shoulders, you prepare yourself for what’s undoubtedly going to be an awkward encounter. Professionalism, you remind yourself. You’ve handled weirder cases.
But all of that resolve shatters the second you open the door and step into the room.
Because the patient isn’t some anonymous stranger.
It’s Franco.
Franco, lounging on the exam table like he doesn’t have a care in the world, scrolling through his phone with his free hand. Franco, the same man you’ve been dating for months, who absolutely should not be in this hospital room right now.
Your mouth opens, ready to deliver your standard introduction, but no words come out.
Franco looks up at the sound of the door, his face breaking into that familiar, devilish grin. “Hey, angel.”
“What the-” You stop yourself, gripping the edge of the clipboard like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality. “Franco, what are you doing here?”
He sets his phone down, looking at you with wide, innocent eyes. “I’m a patient. Clearly.”
You take a deep breath, setting the clipboard aside. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope.” He leans back slightly, gesturing toward himself with both hands. “Broken dick. You saw the file.”
Your jaw tightens as you step closer, lowering your voice. “Franco, this is a hospital. You can’t just-”
“I didn’t just anything,” he cuts in, feigning indignation. “I’m here because you abandoned me this morning. And now I’m suffering.”
You blink at him, completely thrown. “Suffering?”
“Yes!” He says, sitting up straighter, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrays any attempt at seriousness. “You left me. Alone. In bed. With …” He lowers his voice dramatically. “An issue.”
Your brain scrambles to keep up. “An issue?”
Franco sighs, as though the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “Blue balls. A raging, unresolved situation. You’re a doctor — you know how dangerous that can be.”
“Dangerous?” Your voice rises slightly before you catch yourself. “Franco, I left because I had to come to work. Like a normal person.”
“Right, but normal people don’t leave their boyfriends high and dry,” he argues, his tone edging into the realm of petulant. “Do you know how much it hurts? It’s practically a medical emergency.”
You close your eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose. “So let me get this straight,” you say slowly. “You’re here because you have blue balls. And instead of — oh, I don’t know — handling it with your hand and some lotion like a grown adult, you decided to come to my workplace and waste everyone’s time?”
“I don’t see it as wasting time,” Franco says, crossing his arms. “I see it as seeking expert care. From a very qualified, very beautiful doctor.”
“Franco,” you say warningly, but he’s already grinning.
“Besides,” he continues, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt, “don’t you think it’s romantic? I’m literally willing to suffer for you.”
“Oh my God.” You press a hand to your forehead, feeling a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “You are not suffering. And this is not romantic — it’s ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously sweet,” Franco counters, clearly enjoying himself.
You stare at him, torn between wanting to strangle him and laugh. “You know I could get in trouble for this, right? What if someone finds out I’m treating my boyfriend? Or worse, that you’re faking a medical emergency?”
“I’m not faking,” he says quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “The pain in my cock is very real.”
“Franco.” Your voice is flat, and you fix him with your best no-nonsense look.
He hesitates for a beat, then leans forward slightly, lowering his voice like he’s about to confess something scandalous. “Okay, maybe it isn’t a fracture. But it is painful!”
You throw your hands up, resisting the urge to laugh despite yourself. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”
Franco pouts, his lower lip sticking out in an exaggerated fashion. “Come on, angel. Don’t be mad. I just wanted to see you.”
“You couldn’t have waited until my shift was over?”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m impatient. And in my defense, you looked very cute leaving this morning.”
You sigh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you love me,” he says, his grin widening.
“Don’t push your luck,” you warn, though there’s no real bite in your tone.
Franco leans back on the exam table, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who just disrupted your workday. “So … are you gonna examine me or what?”
You narrow your eyes at him. “Do you want me to call security? Because that’s where this is headed.”
“You wouldn’t,” he says, his confidence unwavering.
You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Try me.”
Franco holds your gaze for a moment, then sighs dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. No exam. But only because I value our relationship.”
“Uh-huh,” you say, not even trying to hide your sarcasm.
He grins again, the kind of grin that’s always been your undoing. “You can’t stay mad at me, angel. Admit it.”
You roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts. “Franco, you’re lucky I like you. Otherwise, you’d be on your way out of here in handcuffs.”
His eyebrows shoot up, and he smirks. “Kinky.”
“Oh, for the love of-” You don’t bother finishing the sentence, turning toward the door instead.
“Wait, wait!” Franco calls after you, sliding off the exam table. “I’m kidding! Don’t go!”
You pause, looking back at him. He’s standing there with his hands in his pockets, his expression softer now. “Seriously,” he says. “I just … I missed you. And I thought maybe this would make you laugh. Or at least roll your eyes. Which it did, so … mission accomplished?”
You sigh, feeling your resolve waver. It’s hard to stay mad at him when he’s looking at you like that — like you’re the only person in the world who matters.
“Franco,” you say, your voice quieter now. “You can’t just show up like this. I have a job to do.”
“I know,” he says, stepping closer. “And I promise I won’t make a habit of it. But … can I take you to dinner after your shift? As an apology?”
You study him for a moment, weighing your options. Finally, you let out a small sigh. “Fine. But only if you promise to behave.”
“I promise,” he says quickly, holding a hand over his heart.
“And no more faking injuries,” you add, pointing a finger at him.
“Scout’s honor,” he says, though the mischievous glint in his eye suggests otherwise.
You shake your head, exasperated but smiling. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet, you keep me around,” he says, grinning.
“For now,” you say, opening the door. “Now get out of here before someone sees you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Franco says, saluting playfully as he follows you into the hallway.
As he walks away, you can’t help but smile to yourself. Ridiculous as he is, there’s no denying that life with Franco is never boring.
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Too Many Beds
main masterlist | supernatural masterlist 
summary: you want nothing more than an excuse to sleep next to dean again
pairing: (pre-s1/s1) dean winchester x female reader
rating: R for language
word count: 2.1k 
warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, kissing, mutual pining, idiots in love, brief mention of the death of reader’s dad
timeline: starts slightly before season one, ends near the beginning of season one
author’s note: a spin on the classic 'just one bed, what ever shall we do?' trope lol
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You’d known Dean all your life, practically. You met him when you were six and he was eight; two lonely little kids stuck with absent (job-driven) fathers and baby brothers you felt responsible for. Over the course of the last eighteen-or-so years you ran into the Winchesters during hunts enough that you considered them family. 
When Sam left for college you were there for Dean and when you lost your dad in a hunting accident Dean was there for you. He actually stayed with you, not wanting you to hunt alone since your brother was off at college too.
So, for the last six months you’d been hunting with Dean (who hadn’t spoken to Sam for over a year).
“One room, two queens,” Dean said to the woman behind the counter, placing “his” credit card on the space between them before sliding it toward her.
“We’re all booked up I’m afraid,” she said.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I was actually about to turn on the no vacancy sign.”
“This is the third motel we’ve been to,” you said, “every one of them has been full—you’ve gotta have something!”
“I mean, there’s technically one room left but the heater’s out and my boss said not to let anyone sleep there because of that.”
There was a silent pause; you and Dean shared a knowing look.
“We’ll pay in cash, your boss ‘ll never know,” you told the woman. She smiled and nodded as you paid her with cash. 
“Room 209, my boss gets here at ten tomorrow morning so please leave before then.” She handed you the key and you nodded in thanks.
You had underestimated just how cold the room could be, but when you unlocked and opened the door you understood why the owner didn’t want anyone staying here.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled, following you into the room and feeling the cold air. “We’re gonna freeze our asses off in here!” he quickly closed the door behind him, hoping the icy air hadn’t swept any snow into the room.
“It’s either this or we sleep in the Impala,” you shrugged, “and, no offense to your car, but it’s fuckin’ uncomfortable to sleep in.”
“And there’s only one bed,” Dean sighed.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you told him, ignoring his complaints. 
**
“Are you shivering or crying?” Dean asked.
You rolled over so you could meet his stare; “Shivering! It’s fuckin’ cold in here!”
“You wanna…cuddle up, maybe?” he asked hesitantly.
“Excuse me?” you laughed a little.
“Look, I’m not thrilled about it either, but it’s cold in here and unless we both wanna catch fucking pneumonia we better be smart and share body heat.”
You sighed, weighing your options; “Fine. But we never, and I mean never speak of this again, you hear me?”
“Understood.” He nodded.
You rolled back over as he scooted closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.
“This okay?” he asked quietly, his lips ghosting the back of your head.
“Yeah,” you mumbled back. “Thank you, Dean.”
**
You woke up to the sound of Dean snoring loudly. You were used to his snores, sure, but he’d never been this close. He was laying on his stomach and resting on your chest; his mouth open and his hair tickling your neck. Your first reaction was annoyance but then it quickly washed away as you realized you didn’t want to move a muscle, so Dean could continue sleeping. 
And the more you laid there, listening to his snores, the more you realized how comfortable you were…even in such a physically uncomfortable situation. 
As the time passed and the sun began to rise, you cursed the light that was slowly but surely peeking through the curtain and onto Dean’s face. 
“Morning,” he mumbled to you as he lifted his head up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand before wiping his mouth. “Sorry,” he chuckled, noticing the small spot on your gray sweater dampened with his drool.
“It’s okay,” you mumbled back. “I think it’s your sweater anyway.”
“I thought it looked familiar.”
He rolled off of you and out of bed. 
You watched as he padded across the dirty carpet and over to the small kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and the loud, off putting grinding noise made his face scrunch before he quickly shut off the (definitely broken) machine.
“So much for coffee,” he grumbled. “You gonna sit there all morning or you wanna get outta here? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
“I’m getting up,” you replied. You would usually be annoyed at him for rushing you to wake up, but this time the annoyance was…different. Something about his bedhead, the way his lips were pouting over the lack of caffeine, and how he looked in his brown Henley and baggy sweats just made you wanna hold him again. All you wanted was to pull him back into bed with you and hold him in your arms forever.
**
You were beyond frustrated at this point. How many stupid fucking hotels had to have vacant rooms with two beds and a functional heating system!? 
It had been nearly six months since you and Dean shared a bed and you had been looking for an excuse to sleep next to him ever since. 
But the last couple weeks had been different—Sammy was back. Yes, you loved Sam like a brother, but you missed getting to be alone with Dean. You missed sitting shotgun in the Impala and watching him drive.
Sam definitely noticed the way you looked at Dean, but the younger Winchester didn’t say a word. Without being too obvious about it, he tried to do little things that would let you be close to his brother. He’d sit in a certain chair or part of the couch so that you and Dean had no choice but to sit together. Or he’d make some lame excuse so that he got his own room while you and Dean had to share. “I need to do some more research and I need the light, why don’t you two just sleep in the other room?” for example. 
**
“Two rooms, please,” Dean said, reaching into his coat pocket for his wallet.
“Unfortunately we’ve only got one room left,” the cashier replied. 
You almost couldn’t believe your ears, fucking finally!
“Oh, that’s too bad,” you faked your best frustrated look, of course Sam saw right through that.
“Well, I am not sharing with either or you,” he said with a teasing smile. 
“There’s actually a pullout couch in that room, as luck would have it,” the cashier informed the three of you. 
God fucking damn it, you thought to yourself.
**
It was barely after two when you felt the bed behind you dip, and you shook yourself awake. 
“The hell?” you asked, still half asleep.
“The pullout couch isn’t working,” Dean mumbled quietly. “You mind sharing with me?”
You smiled a little and scooted closer into his arms, indicating you were okay with him sleeping next to you.
“Of course I don’t mind sharing with you,” you whispered and his grip tightened.
**
“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Sam announced. “I’m assuming you want your usual?”
Dean put his right pointer finger to his lips and furrowed his brows angrily. He gestured to you as you slept and Sam got the message. 
“Usual is good,” Dean whispered before Sam left.
Dean stayed laying perfectly still as you slept on his chest, soft snores escaping your lips and to Dean they were the sweetest sound. 
As you stirred awake slowly, he rubbed your back a little.
“Morning,” you mumbled, a small smile on your lips. “Where’s Sam?”
“He went to grab breakfast,” Dean told you. 
You furrowed your brows as you sat up, looked across the room, and realized something; “The pullout bed looks fine? I thought you said it wasn’t working?” You turned back to Dean, who had a sheepish grin growing on his lips.
“So…maybe I’ve just been looking for an excuse to sleep next to you again. Like we did back in that motel when the heat was out.”
“Really?” You attempted to hide the smile trying to find its way onto your face. 
“When we were checking in last night I noticed how your face lit up when they said there was only one room left,” Dean admitted. “And I saw that disappointed look you made when they said there was a pullout couch. So, am I wrong, or have you been wanting an excuse too?”
“I really liked sleeping next to you that night,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “And you’re right, I have been hoping for another ‘oh no just one bed, guess we’ll have to share’ situation but…”
“But what?” Dean asked when you trailed off. You looked down at him. 
“Dean, you and Sam have been like my brothers for as long as I can remember. I mean, Bobby practically raised all three of us and my actual brother as siblings! Your dad and my dad knew each other basically forever and I guess…I guess I figured our lives are too entangled for anything to ever actually happen between us. We’re family.”
“Chosen family, Y/n.” Dean smiled softly. “Doesn’t mean you have to be my chosen sister, you could be my chosen…you know…” 
You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his full lips. 
“That,” Dean finished his previous statement. 
“Let’s just keep this between us for now, okay?” you suggested. “If Sam finds out, then your dad will find out, and he’ll immediately tell my brother, then before we know it Bobby—”
“I get the picture, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled before kissing you again. He put his hands on your cheeks as he sat up. He pulled you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. His hands moved to your shoulders then trailed down to your lower back as yours went into his hair. You pulled away from him after a moment, huge smiles on both your faces.
You looked into his eyes, his truly beautiful eyes, and you bit your bottom lip ever so slightly. Your right hand rested on his left cheek, your thumb stroking his skin lovingly. 
“You’re awesome, Dean Winchester,” you whispered. 
“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he replied before he kissed you again. “And gorgeous, too,” he added. “You know how fuckin’ annoying it’s been, sleeping without you every night since that one time?”
“I do know, Dean, I’ve been just as annoyed about it.”
Dean kissed you one more time before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, tucking his head into your neck. You wrapped your arms around him too, pressing your lips to his temple.
You pulled out of the hug so you could once again look at his face. Resting your forehead on his, you smiled before you kissed him again. 
“Breakfast,” Sam called out as he opened the door, “is served!”
You and Dean froze for a split second before you hurried off of him.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam said, “did I interrupt you two?”
“What?” you scoffed. “Of course not!”
“Interrupt? There’s nothing to interrupt?” Dean added.
“Oh…wow you two are fast,” Sam mumbled, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen before putting the food down. “Well, pancakes, eggs, and bacon from the continental breakfast.” He gestured to the food now on the table. “Hope you’re hungry.”
As Sam sat down to eat, you looked at Dean anxiously. Say something you begged him with your eyes.
“Sammy,” Dean started as he got out of bed, “would you mind uh…not telling dad? About me and Y/n…kissing just now? When we find him, I mean.”
“Dad’s never really been invested in your love life, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam laughed. 
“So…you are gonna tell him?” Dean furrowed his brows in frustration.
“Dean, he knows you two are together, it’s not some big secret?” Sam replied, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Damn that’s good.”
“Okay, just hold on—what?” Dean asked. “What do you mean dad knows? There’s been nothing to know since like four minutes ago?”
“Wait,” Sam stopped eating and fully turned to face you and his brother, “are you trying to tell me this is the first time you two have kissed?” Sam furrowed his brows deeply as you and Dean both nodded. “So…never in high school?” You shook your heads again. “That prom we crashed?”
“Sam you were there the whole time? When would we have kissed?” you asked.
“Huh,” Sam let out a laugh. “I genuinely thought you two had been a thing since like… ‘98.”
“What!?” you and Dean exclaimed in unison.
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hoshifighting · 6 months ago
Text
seventeen reaction when you shout back at them during an argument
WARNINGS: angst, arguments, disturbing peace.
seungcheol is someone who usually controls his emotions. it wasn't like him to lose his cool, and it definitely wasn't like you. but in the heat of the moment, everything seemed to spiral out of control. “you never listen to me!” seungcheol roared, his face red with frustration. “i’m tired of having the same argument over and over!” “oh, so now I’m the problem? you think you’re so perfect, don’t you?” you shot back. “maybe if you actually cared, you’d see how hard this is for me!” seungcheol’s face pales, and he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. you hear him pacing outside before he finally shuts the door to the bedroom, needing space to cool down before he says something he’ll regret. you hear him muttering to himself, “i need to calm down… we’ll talk later.”
jeonghan, on the other hand, gets really dismissive when he’s angry. he scoffs, rolling his eyes when you yelled. “seriously?” he muttered, the sound barely audible. “this is ridiculous.” the scoff only fueled your anger further. “don’t you dare laugh at me like that!—you know what? I’m done here!” you shouted, grabbing your coat and storming out of the house. jeonghan didn’t chase after you. he watched you leave, and after a few moments of silence, he slumped into a chair, burying his face in his hands. he knew he’d have to call you later—after the tears had dried up, anyway.
joshua is visibly hurt when the fight escalates. “i can’t believe you’re acting like this!” he yells. you’ve never heard him like this, and it shocks you enough to shout back, “you think i’m the one acting up? look at yourself!” the sadness in his eyes hits you harder than the argument. when you shout again, “you never listen to how I feel!” his face falls, and he looks crushed.
junhui doesn’t raise his voice, but if he does, it’s a rare and shocking sight. “why are you always so difficult?” he yells. as soon as he sees your face contort in anger, he covers his mouth and starts apologizing. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to shout. please, let’s just talk.”
soonyoung turns the argument into a full-blown shouting match. “this is ridiculous!” he yells, and it feels like the argument will never end. “just stop yelling!” you scream back, and he’s not backing down. it’s like you’re both on a never-ending loop of shouting until there’s a knock on the door. the shouting goes back and forth until someone finally knocks on the door, checking if everything’s okay. the sudden interruption makes you both realize how out of hand things have gotten. “we’re fine!” he shouted back, but he could see that you were both far from okay.
wonwoo is pretty laid-back, so when he yells, it’s surprising. “i don’t know why you’re making this so hard!” he shouts. but when you scream back, “oh, so you’re just going to yell at me now?” he blinks, a bit stunned. “i’m sorry,” he says quietly, rubbing his face as if he’s just realizing how loud he was.
woozi doesn’t need to raise his voice to cut deep—his words are sharp enough. “you always do this,” he hisses, his tone cold and biting. but you’re just as sharp, snapping back, “and you’re always an asshole!” woozi clenches his jaw, his hands trembling as he tries to hold back from saying something even more hurtful. it’s the messiest fight you’ve had, but the sight of each other crying breaks down whatever walls were still up.
minghao has this way of dealing with fights by stepping back. “you know what? forget it!” he shouts, turning to leave the room. but your voice stops him in his tracks. “oh, so now you’re just going to walk away like always?!” “i’m not dealing with this right now,” he says firmly, “i’ll talk to you when you’re calm.” it’s frustrating because you know he’s shouting too, but he’s set on giving you both space. “you think running away solves everything?” you snap. “we’ll talk later,” he repeats, and you’re left feeling like there’s more distance than before.
mingyu is usually all about calming things down, but sometimes, even he loses it. “i can’t do this anymore!” he shouts, his frustration boiling over. but when you scream back, “then why are you still here?” it’s like someone poured cold water over him. he's pretty taken aback when you scream. “you really think that’s the way to handle this?” he says, looking wide-eyed. but when you scream again, he stops, realizing how serious it is.
seokmin can’t handle prolonged fights well. “we need to separate for a bit,” he suggests, almost like you’re siblings who need a timeout. “this is just too much.” you both end up in different rooms, cooling off but still feeling the sting of the argument. it’s like you’re not fighting anymore, just waiting for the other to make the first move to make up.
seungkwan is in shock when you yell. “i can’t believe you just did that!” he says. his outburst is more out of desperation than anger. “i don’t know what else to do!” he yells, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. but when you shout back, “well, yelling isn’t helping!” the look on his face crumbles. his mouth opens and closes, trying to find something to say, but all that comes out is a shaky breath.
vernon doesn’t yell. it’s just not him. but if he does, it’s like a dam breaking. “just let me speak for once!” he shouts, his voice louder than you’ve ever heard it. but your response is even louder, “then say something worth hearing!” the tears that spill down his cheeks are instant. “i’m sorry,” he chokes out, “i’m so sorry.” it’s a moment that neither of you knows how to come back from. he cries, feeling like the whole argument is his fault.
chan fights with a purpose of determination to resolve things, but when it gets bad, you both end up crying. “i’m not going to stop until we work this out,” he says firmly. “i want to make things right.” by the end, when you’re both exhausted and crying, he pulls you into a hug, and you both just hold each other, trying to make sense of the argument.
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lvnleah · 9 days ago
Note
Could you please do Steph Cayley x reader where reader is recovering from acl surgey and Steph is being all cute and protective.
nurse catley | steph catley.
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thank you for this request! bit of a short one :)
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The soft hum of the car’s engine filled the quiet space, a soothing backdrop to the clunk of the crutches resting in the back seat. You were slouched against the passenger seat, the effects of the painkillers making you drowsy and slow. The ACL surgery was done — one hurdle cleared, but the long road to recovery loomed ahead.
Steph’s hand was warm where it rested on your thigh, her thumb drawing soft, absentminded circles through the blanket she’d tucked around you before leaving the hospital. Her other hand gripped the steering wheel, and her eyes kept darting between you and the road.
“How’re you feeling?” she asked softly, breaking the silence.
“Like I got hit by a truck,” you mumbled, your voice raspier than usual. The post-op grogginess still clung to you, but even that couldn’t hide the exhaustion in your tone.
Steph glanced over, “We’ll get you settled on the couch as soon as we’re home. I’ve already set up pillows and everything. You’re not moving a muscle until you’re comfortable.”
You smiled faintly, her fussing filling your chest with a familiar warmth. “Steph, I’ll be fine.”
Her eyes flicked back to you, stern yet soft. “Babe, you had surgery less than 24 hours ago. You’re not doing anything by yourself.”
“Okay, Nurse Catley,” you teased, though your voice lacked its usual energy.
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth quirked up. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t go overboard.”
By the time you reached the house, you were more than ready to get out of the car, but Steph was having none of your attempts at independence.
“Stay there,” she ordered, jumping out and rushing around to your side before you could even attempt to unbuckle yourself.
“Steph, I can—”
“You can sit still and let me take care of you,” she interrupted, her tone firm but loving. She crouched down to carefully swing your legs out of the car, her movements gentle and deliberate.
Once she had you upright and balanced on your crutches, she looped an arm around your waist for extra support, guiding you toward the house.
Inside, she helped you ease onto the couch, fluffing the mountain of pillows she’d set up beforehand. A tray with water, snacks, and your meds was already waiting on the coffee table.
“You’ve thought of everything,” you murmured, touched by the effort she’d put in.
Steph sat down beside you, tucking a blanket around your legs before placing them on her lap. “Of course I have,” she said simply, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “This is going to be tough, but we’re in this together. One day at a time, yeah?”
You nodded, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Thank you, Steph. For everything.”
She leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Always.”
The next few days were a haze of painkillers, rest, and Steph’s constant presence. She wasn’t just hovering — she was there at every moment.
“Here,” she said one afternoon, handing you a mug of tea just the way you liked it. She perched on the edge of the couch, watching as you adjusted the pillows under your leg. “How’s the pain today?”
“Better,” you admitted. “Still sore, but manageable.”
Steph tilted her head, studying you. “Are you sure? Don’t downplay it.”
You chuckled softly. “I’m sure, love. You don’t have to worry so much.”
“That’s like telling the sun not to shine,” she shot back, her lips twitching into a smile.
It was true. Steph had taken her role as your nurse seriously, from making sure you stayed hydrated to reminding you to do your post-op exercises. Even when you grumbled about the discomfort, she was there, encouraging and patient.
One morning, as you attempted to shuffle from the couch to the bathroom, Steph appeared out of nowhere, her hands steadying your arms.
“I’ve got it,” you insisted, gripping the crutches tightly.
“You’re stumbling, lemme help,” she replied, unwavering.
You sighed, relenting as she walked beside you, her hand hovering just in case you stumbled.
Back on the couch, she draped the blanket over you again and settled down with her laptop. “Football emails?” you asked, nodding toward the screen.
“Just emails about when I’ll be back,” she said, her tone dismissive. “I’ve told them I won’t be for another week.”
Your heart clenched. “Steph, you didn’t have to do that.”
She closed the laptop and turned to face you, her expression soft but resolute. “Of course I did. You’re my priority. Football can wait.”
Later that evening, as you both lounged on the couch, Steph insisted on putting on one of your favourite movies. “Distractions are good,” she said, tucking you into her side.
“You’re the best distraction,” you murmured, your head resting against her shoulder.
She chuckled, her arm wrapping around you securely. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
As the days turned into weeks, Steph’s care never wavered. She cheered for every small milestone, from your first successful step without crutches to the day you managed to shower on your own.
But her favourite moments were the quiet ones — when she’d catch you smiling at her after she adjusted your pillows for the tenth time, or when you’d fall asleep mid-conversation, your hand still loosely holding hers.
Through it all, Steph’s love was unwavering, her care a constant reminder that you weren’t in this alone. With her by your side, recovery didn’t seem so daunting after all.
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cailinsblog · 3 months ago
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Lando’s Little Protector | Lando Norris
Lando Norris x reader
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The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of your shared bedroom, casting a warm glow on the cozy space. You stirred beneath the covers, blinking slowly as the sound of soft footsteps approached. Before you could even sit up, the familiar face of Lando Norris appeared beside the bed, holding a tray with breakfast.
“Good morning, love,” Lando said softly, his signature smile lighting up his face. He carefully set the tray on the bedside table, revealing a plate of toast, scrambled eggs, and a cup of tea. “I brought you breakfast in bed.”
You chuckled, sitting up against the headboard. “Lando, you didn’t have to do all this.”
“Of course I did,” he said, placing a pillow behind your back for extra support. “You’re carrying our baby now. You shouldn’t have to lift a finger.”
You raised an eyebrow at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “Lando, I’m only two months pregnant. I’m not helpless.”
He huffed, crossing his arms in mock seriousness. “Doesn’t matter. You’re growing a tiny human, Y/N. That’s a big deal. I want to make sure you’re taken care of.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his determination. Lando had always been protective, but ever since you told him you were expecting, he’d taken it to a whole new level. He insisted on doing everything for you—cooking, cleaning, even carrying the groceries, despite your protests that you were perfectly capable.
As you ate your breakfast, Lando sat beside you, watching you closely. “How are you feeling today? Any nausea? Headaches?”
You shook your head, laughing softly. “No, I’m fine, Lando. You don’t have to check on me every five minutes.”
“I’m just making sure,” he said, his tone serious. “I don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby.”
After breakfast, you got out of bed and stretched, ready to start the day. But as soon as you reached for the laundry basket, Lando appeared out of nowhere, gently taking it from your hands.
“Uh-uh, no way,” he said, carrying the basket out of the room. “I’ll do the laundry.”
“Lando, I can handle—”
“Nope,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You sit down and relax.”
You followed him to the living room, where he had set up a cozy spot on the couch with blankets and pillows. He guided you to sit down, then handed you the TV remote and a glass of water.
“There,” he said, satisfied. “Now, you stay here and watch something. I’ll handle everything else.”
You sighed, but a warm feeling spread through your chest. His protectiveness was endearing, even if it was a bit over the top. As you settled into the couch, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for how much he cared.
---
Later that afternoon, you decided to test just how protective Lando could be. While he was in the kitchen, you stood up and started tidying up the coffee table. As soon as Lando noticed, he rushed over, his eyes wide with concern.
“Y/N! What are you doing?” he exclaimed, gently taking the stack of magazines from your hands.
“I’m just cleaning up a bit,” you said innocently.
“No way,” he said, placing the magazines back on the table. “I’ll take care of that. You’re supposed to be resting.”
“Lando, I’m not made of glass,” you said, trying to suppress a laugh.
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but also determined. “I know, but I don’t want to take any chances. You mean everything to me, Y/N. I just want to keep you safe.”
Your heart melted at his words. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “I know, Lando. And I love you for it. But you don’t have to do everything on your own. We’re in this together.”
He leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. “I just want to make sure you and the baby are okay.”
“And we are,” you reassured him. “But if I need help, I promise I’ll ask. Deal?”
He sighed, nodding reluctantly. “Deal. But I’m still going to keep an eye on you.”
You laughed, pulling him into a hug. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
---
As the weeks went on, Lando continued to hover, but he also started to relax a bit. He still insisted on doing most of the household chores, but he allowed you to join him for walks and even let you help with small tasks, like folding laundry.
One evening, as you sat on the couch together, Lando placed a hand on your still-flat stomach, his eyes filled with wonder.
“I can’t believe there’s a little person in there,” he said softly.
“Me neither,” you said, resting your hand on top of his. “But I’m so excited to meet them.”
“Me too,” he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your stomach. “And I’m going to be the best dad ever. Just wait and see.”
You smiled, your heart full of love. “I already know you will be, Lando.”
As the months ahead stretched before you, you knew that with Lando by your side, everything was going to be just fine. His protectiveness might drive you a little crazy at times, but it was also a reminder of how deeply he loved you and your growing family. And that was more than enough.
Requesting and rebloging helps me a lot guys 💕
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rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago
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All I Want for Christmas is a Cowboy
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SUMMARY: When a night of playful banter and teasing turns into something far more intimate, you find yourself crossing every line you swore you wouldn't with Jake Seresin - the cocky, infuriatingly charming pilot who's always had a way of getting under your skin. Between stolen kisses, soft confessions, and moments that blur the line between lust and something deeper, it becomes clear that this isn't just a one-time thing. But as Jake's Stetson wearing, sweet talking side leaves you breathless, you'll have to decide if you're ready to risk your heart for the man who's never been one to play it safe.
A/N: This is a combination of my love for Megan Moroney and her song "All I Want for Christmas is a Cowboy" as well as a request that I received in November for the prompt "One kiss won't ruin the friendship, right?" and "Can I sleep with you tonight?" Hopefully whoever requested the prompts enjoys this! Thank you all for your patience with me as I write and get through the requests that I have.
WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. Smut (PinV. Mentions of biting/marking. Fingering.)
WORD COUNT: 12.4k (I'm ovulating and rewatched TGM a few days ago and fell back in love with Jake. Please don't judge me.)
TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS
The Hard Deck was alive with the hum of Christmas cheer. Twinkling string lights wrapped around wooden beams, and a small but charmingly crooked Christmas tree stood in the corner, decorated with red ornaments and what looked suspiciously like aviator sunglasses. The jukebox was cycling through a mix of classic rock and Christmas hits, creating an oddly festive but fitting soundtrack for the evening.
You sat at a table near the back, surrounded by familiar faces—your chosen family. Natasha sat to your left, nursing a whiskey sour and laughing at something Bob had just said. Reuben and Mickey were on your right, engaged in a heated debate about the best holiday movies. Bradley leaned back in his chair across from you, his mustache twitching with amusement as he chimed in occasionally, and Javy was at the bar grabbing the next round.
It had been months—maybe a year—since you’d met the Dagger Squad through a mutual friend, but somehow, they had adopted you like one of their own. Now, invites to their gatherings were automatic, and evenings like this one were the norm.
Phoenix nudged your arm, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Alright, enough sitting on the sidelines. We’ve decided it’s time for a little holiday intervention.”
You raised a brow, taking a sip of your drink. “Holiday intervention?”
“You’ve been single for far too long,” she declared, gesturing dramatically with her drink. “It’s time we find you someone.”
Reuben snorted. “This again?”
“Yes, this again,” Phoenix shot back. “I mean, look at her.” She motioned to you with a flourish. “She's smart, funny, gorgeous—”
“Don’t forget stubborn,” Bob added with a grin.
“Exactly,” Phoenix said, unbothered. “We’re not letting you ring in another New Year without at least some action.”
You rolled your eyes, a laugh slipping out despite yourself. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m good, really.”
“Uh-huh,” Natasha said, unconvinced. “You know, we could always ask Jake—”
“Ask me what?” The smooth, teasing drawl interrupted her, and you didn’t even have to look to know who it was.
Jake “Hangman” Seresin strolled up to the table, pool cue slung over one shoulder, that infuriatingly perfect smirk already in place.
Natasha didn’t miss a beat. “We’re trying to set her up with someone. Know any decent guys who are single?”
A flicker of something—surprise, maybe?—passed over Jake’s face before he quickly masked it with an exaggerated scoff.
“Decent guys? Here? Good luck.” He leaned on the back of an empty chair, his green eyes flicking to yours for just a moment before he addressed Natasha again. “Besides, she doesn’t need a setup. She’s clearly too good for anyone in this dump.”
“I’m fine,” you insisted, taking a sip of your drink. “Seriously. I don’t need a relationship right now.”
Natasha’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t need or don’t want?”
“Both.” The lie rolled off your tongue easily, but the weight of the unspoken truth settled in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t want a relationship. You just didn’t want one with anyone who wasn’t Jake Seresin. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud.
“Sure,” Natasha drawled, clearly unconvinced. 
“What about that guy over there?” Payback’s girlfriend suggested, nodding toward a tall man leaning against the bar. He was handsome, you supposed, but his eager smile didn’t stir anything in you.
“No, I don’t think so,” you said quickly.
“Okay fine, let’s figure out what you’re looking for. What is your type?” Natasha pressed, leaning in with a grin that told you she wasn’t going to drop this anytime soon.
“I don’t have a type.”
“Everyone has a type,” Mickey chimed in, his tone far too amused for your liking. “Dark hair? Light hair?”
“Light hair,” you muttered before you could stop yourself.
“Tall or short?” Natasha asked, clearly enjoying herself.
“Tall.”
“How tall?”
“I don’t know,” you said, your voice rising slightly in exasperation. “Six feet? Six-one, maybe?”
Natasha grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Anything else? Beard? No beard? Tattoos? Come on, give us something!”
You hesitated, suddenly very aware of Jake still leaning casually nearby, listening to every word. “I don’t know. Tall. Hot. In a Stetson?”
The table burst into laughter, but Jake rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Yeah, good luck finding a cowboy here. Closest you’ll get is someone in boots and a flannel at line-dancing night.”
His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, something you couldn’t quite place. Before you could overthink it, Natasha leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, he’s not wrong, but maybe you should branch out. Broaden your horizons a little.”
You shook your head, brushing her off with a laugh. “I’m fine, really. No setups needed.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Phoenix said, clearly not convinced. “We’ll see.”
Jake’s smirk returned as he straightened up, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual before he turned to head back to the pool table.
“Good luck, ladies,” he called over his shoulder.
You watched him go, trying not to let your eyes linger too long. If only they knew the cowboy you wanted wasn’t some hypothetical stranger—it was the one person you couldn’t have. Not that it mattered, you reminded yourself. Jake Seresin didn’t do relationships. And you? You didn’t do casual. It was better this way. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.
The night carried on, the crowd at The Hard Deck growing as more people trickled in, filling the space with laughter and music. You were mid-conversation with Phoenix and one of the guys' girlfriends, your drink in hand, when the first guy approached.
He wasn’t bad-looking—dark hair, decent smile—but you could tell right away he wasn’t your type. And the way he glanced over at Natasha before walking up only confirmed your suspicions.
“Hey,” he started, a little too confident. “Can I buy you another drink?”
You smiled politely, shaking your head. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
He lingered for a second longer than necessary, clearly waiting for you to change your mind. When you didn’t, he shrugged, muttered something under his breath, and walked away.
The moment he was out of earshot, Phoenix grinned. “What was wrong with that one?”
You gave her a look. “He wasn’t my type.”
“You’ve got to stop using that excuse,” she teased. “We’re just trying to help you out.”
“I don’t need help,” you said firmly, though your tone stayed light. “I’m not looking for anything right now.”
The other woman smirked knowingly. “Sure you’re not.”
Over the next hour, two more guys approached you. Each time, you managed to slip away gracefully, making it clear you weren’t interested without causing a scene. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Natasha—or maybe one of the other girlfriends—was behind it.
By the third attempt, you shot Phoenix a pointed look. “Seriously?”
“What?” she said innocently, but her smile gave her away.
You sighed, shaking your head. “You’re relentless, you know that?”
“It’s because I care,” she said sweetly, raising her glass in mock toast.
Jake chose that moment to stroll over, his timing impeccable as always. “Everything okay over here?”
Phoenix grinned. “Oh, everything’s great. Just trying to find her the perfect man.”
Jake raised a brow, glancing between the two of you. “Perfect man, huh? Sounds like a tall order. I thought we were just going for someone to take her home tonight.”
You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, he nodded toward your now-empty glass. “Need a refill?”
You hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Yeah. Just my usual, thanks.”
Jake gave a quick two-finger salute before heading toward the bar.
Phoenix watched him go, her expression unreadable for a moment before she turned back to you, her grin returning. “Wow. Hangman buying you a drink? That’s new.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s not like that. He’s just being nice.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly unconvinced.
One of the guys at the table chimed in, smirking. “Yeah, he’s real nice, isn’t he? You know he’s from Texas. Could probably pull off that cowboy look you’ve been fantasizing about.”
“Oh, come on,” you said, rolling your eyes again. “It’s Jake. He’s not trying to get in my pants.”
“That’s what they all say,” Bob joked, earning a round of laughter from the group.
Jake returned a moment later, handing you your drink with a small, knowing smile. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” you said, brushing off the teasing from the others as you took a sip.
You couldn’t help but notice the way Jake’s gaze lingered on you for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before he turned back toward the pool table. And despite everything, you couldn’t stop your heart from skipping a beat.
The hours slipped by, the bar gradually thinning out as the night wore on. You’d lost count of how many rounds of pool Jake had won or how many times Phoenix had tried to steer a random guy in your direction. 
Despite it all, you’d actually had fun, laughing and teasing the squad like always. But now, your head felt a little too light, and your body a little too warm from the alcohol.
You glanced at your phone, noting the time. “Alright, I think I’m calling it,” you announced, sliding off your barstool.
Most of the group groaned in protest, but you waved them off. “Some of us have to be functioning humans tomorrow.”
“You sure you’re good?” Natasha asked, her sharp gaze flicking over you like she was scanning for cracks.
“Yeah, yeah,” you assured her, pulling on your jacket. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
But as you turned toward the door, your balance wavered slightly, the ground tilting just enough to make you grab the back of your stool for support. No one else seemed to notice, but Jake did.
You didn’t even realize he’d followed you outside until you felt the cool night air and heard his voice behind you. “You sure you’re good to get home?”
Startled, you turned to face him, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m getting an Uber.”
Jake’s expression darkened slightly, his hands settling on his hips. “An Uber? You’re telling me you’re gonna get into a car with some random guy you don’t know and let him take you home?”
You raised a brow, amused by his sudden concern. “Yes, Jake. That’s how Uber works.”
He didn’t laugh. Instead, he studied you for a moment, his jaw working like he was turning over a decision in his head. 
“I don’t like it,” he said finally. “Come on, let me drive you home.”
You crossed your arms, giving him a skeptical look. “Please tell me they didn’t convince you to try and ask me out too.”
Jake let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “No. This isn’t a setup. I’m just being your friend.”
You squinted at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. “You sure about that?”
“Promise,” he said, holding up his hands like he was swearing an oath. “Scout’s honor.”
You hesitated, the stubborn part of you tempted to insist you didn’t need help. But the truth was, the idea of being in a car with Jake felt a hell of a lot safer—and less awkward—than riding home with a stranger.
“Alright,” you relented, sighing. “But if this is some elaborate scheme to get me to admit I like you or something, I’m going to be really annoyed.”
Jake grinned, gesturing toward the parking lot. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home before you overthink this to death.”
The drive home was quiet at first, Jake’s truck rumbling softly as it cut through the stillness of the night. You leaned back in the passenger seat, the cool air from the open window doing wonders to clear your head. Jake glanced at you occasionally, his hands loose on the wheel but his focus unwavering.
“You gonna tell me what that was all about back there?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.
You turned to him, your brows furrowing. “What what was all about?”
“Natasha and the girls,” he clarified. “Trying to set you up like it’s a speed dating event.”
You groaned, letting your head fall back against the seat. “Oh, that. Yeah, I don’t know what got into them. They’re convinced I’ve been single for too long.”
Jake smirked. “And what? You just let them keep at it?”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” you said with a laugh. “Trust me, I tried shutting it down, but Nat can be very persuasive. Plus, I think she roped in some of the girlfriends for backup.”
He nodded, his gaze flicking between you and the road. “So... are you looking?”
You blinked at him, caught off guard by the question. “Looking?”
“For someone,” he said casually, though there was a hint of something else in his tone—curiosity, maybe.
You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Not really,” you admitted. “I mean, it’s not that I’m against the idea, but I’m not actively looking for anyone either. And definitely not the way they’re going about it.”
Jake chuckled, his smile pulling up on one side. “Fair enough.”
He was quiet for a moment, the hum of the truck filling the space between you. Then, almost hesitantly, he said, “You know, I think Coyote might know a guy on one of the boats—he’s from Kansas or something. Probably got that farmer-cowboy look you’re into.”
You couldn’t help but smile, his attempt at helpfulness both endearing and a little amusing. “That’s sweet, Jake, but I really don’t think I’m looking for a farmer or a cowboy—or anyone, for that matter.”
Jake glanced at you briefly, his lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah, I figured as much.”
“Why’d you bring it up, then?” you asked, tilting your head to study him.
He shrugged, his eyes on the road. “Just thought you might like to know your options.”
“Thanks,” you said softly, your smile lingering. “But I think I’m okay with where I am right now. I'll find someone eventually.”
Jake nodded, the conversation settling into a comfortable lull as he turned onto your street.
The glow of the streetlights flickered against the windows of Jake’s truck as he slowed to a stop in front of your apartment building. You unbuckled your seatbelt, your phone buzzing against your thigh just as you reached for the door handle.
Pulling it out, you glanced at the screen. A message from your roommate lit up the display: Just a heads-up—I’ve got company tonight. Might want to keep the earbuds handy 😉
You groaned audibly, letting your head fall back against the seat with a dramatic thud.
Jake shot you a curious glance, his brow lifting. “What’s wrong?”
You waved your phone in his direction with a weary sigh. “Roommate’s got a guy over. And from the sound of it, I’m going to need noise-canceling headphones or a place to sleep that isn’t directly next to her room.”
Jake chuckled, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “Sounds like it’s going to be a rough night for you, huh?”
“You have no idea,” you muttered, reaching for the door again.
Before you could hop out, Jake’s voice stopped you. “You don’t have to go in, you know.”
You turned to him, your hand frozen on the handle. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged, his gaze soft but steady as it met yours. “I mean, if you don’t feel like dealing with... that,” he gestured vaguely toward your phone, “you can come crash at my place. It’s quiet, and I’ve got a couch you can take over if you’re not ready to head home yet.”
You hesitated, your fingers idly tracing the edge of your phone. Spending more time with Jake wasn’t exactly going to help your unspoken crush, but the alternative—trying to sleep through your roommate’s extracurricular activities—was far less appealing.
“Are you sure?” you asked, your voice laced with doubt. “I don’t want to impose or anything.”
Jake rolled his eyes, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. “You wouldn’t be. Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I let you suffer through that?”
The word friend grounded you, loosening the knot of uncertainty in your chest. You smiled softly, nodding your agreement. “Alright, Seresin. But if you don’t have coffee in the morning, I’m going to rethink our so-called friendship.”
Jake laughed, the sound warm and low as he shifted the truck back into drive. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll even make you breakfast if you’re lucky.”
Jake unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped aside to let you in first. The place was clean but lived-in—soft lighting, a comfortable couch, a TV mounted on the wall, and just a few hints of his personality scattered throughout: a Navy ball cap tossed on the entryway table, framed photos of his family, and what looked like a pair of cowboy boots sitting by the door.
“Make yourself at home,” he said, flicking on the lights and heading toward the kitchen. “Want a beer?”
You nodded, shrugging off your jacket and folding it over the back of a chair before settling onto the couch. “Thanks, Jake.”
He returned a moment later, two beers in hand. Passing one to you, he dropped onto the couch beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him. You took a sip, the cold drink soothing against the warmth still lingering on your cheeks from the night’s events.
Jake leaned back, his arm casually draping over the back of the couch. “So,” he started, his tone playful, “what was that whole ‘tall, hot, in a Stetson’ thing earlier really about? Got a cowboy crush I don’t know about?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s just a preference.”
He tilted his head, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Uh-huh. You sure about that? Because it kind of sounded like you were describing someone I know.”
Your brow furrowed as you turned to look at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”
Jake’s grin widened. “Tall? Blonde? Hot? I mean, you might as well have just said my name.”
You rolled your eyes, but you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Oh, please. You’re so full of yourself, Seresin.”
Jake’s gaze flicked to your face, his sharp eyes catching the faint blush blooming across your cheeks. His grin softened into something more thoughtful. “Wait a second,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “You’re blushing.”
“No, I’m not,” you said quickly, shaking your head and avoiding his gaze.
“Oh, you definitely are,” he teased, his voice low and amused. “Tell me—do you have a little crush on me?”
You scoffed, your heart racing as you tried to deflect. “What are we, in middle school?”
Jake chuckled, but his expression didn’t shift. He studied you for a moment, the playful glint in his eyes fading into something quieter, more serious. “You didn’t answer the question.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could come up with a denial, Jake leaned in closer, the space between you narrowing. His lips hovered close to yours, close enough that you could feel his breath ghosting against your skin.
“Jake,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest, “what are you doing?”
His eyes locked with yours, intense and unwavering. “I’m kissing you,” he said, his voice low and steady, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Unless you tell me to stop.”
“Jake…we…we can’t.”
“You know,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm, “one kiss probably won’t ruin the friendship, right?”
Your breath caught, but you didn’t move away. Instead, you sat there, frozen as the space between you vanished. When his lips finally touched yours, it was soft at first—almost tentative, like he was giving you the chance to change your mind.
But you didn’t.
Jake’s hand came up, his fingers brushing along your jaw before cupping your face. His touch was firm yet gentle, anchoring you in place as the kiss deepened. His lips moved against yours, confident and unhurried, like he’d been waiting for this moment and was determined to savor every second of it.
Your hand found its way to his chest, the firm muscle beneath his shirt making your pulse race even faster. You felt him exhale, a soft, pleased sound escaping him as your fingers curled into the fabric. Without even thinking, you shifted closer, your body leaning into his as the kiss grew more heated.
Jake pulled back for the briefest moment, just enough to catch his breath, his thumb brushing across your cheek as he looked at you. His eyes were darker now, filled with something that made your stomach flip. 
“You’re killing me, darlin’,” he murmured, his Texas drawl thicker than usual.
You didn’t give yourself time to overthink it. Fueled by a mixture of nerves and adrenaline, you swung a leg over his, settling yourself onto his lap. Jake froze for half a heartbeat before his hands found your waist, his grip firm and grounding.
You reached up, your fingers threading your fingers into the hair at the back of his head, your nails grazing lightly against his scalp as you leaned in and kissed him again. Jake groaned softly, the sound rumbling through his chest as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer.
The kiss turned fervent, all soft restraint melting away as your bodies pressed together. Jake’s lips were hot and insistent, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he tilted his head, deepening the kiss further. Your fingers fisted in his hair, his skin warm beneath your touch as his hands began to roam, sliding from your waist to your hips, holding you securely in his lap.
Your heart was racing, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him, the way he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough. Every brush of his lips, every press of his hands against you, made you feel like you were burning from the inside out.
When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, Jake’s forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven. His hands stayed on your hips, his thumbs brushing idly against the fabric of your shirt. 
You then reached down and started to tug at the hem of your shirt, but he reach out and caught your wrists, halting you.
“Whoa, hold up,” he said, his voice low but firm.
You pulled back slightly, confused, your gaze searching his. His hands stayed on your wrists, gentle but unyielding. 
“What?” you asked, blinking at him as your pulse raced.
Jake’s lips twitched into a small smile, but his expression was serious. “I’m not doing this. Not yet.”
You frowned, sitting back on his lap, your legs still straddling him. “You’re not doing what?”
“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “I want to buy you dinner first.”
You stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “Dinner? Like a date?”
Jake nodded, his hands resting lightly on your hips now.
It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when they did, you couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that escaped you. “Jake, you don’t do dates. Or dinners. Or follow any kind of rules when it comes to sleeping with women. What’s changed.”
Jake chuckled, but there was a sincerity in his gaze that made your stomach flutter. “You’re not just some hookup for me,” he admitted, his voice soft. “I want to do this right with you.”
Your mouth opened to respond, but no words came out. You weren’t used to seeing Jake like this—so earnest, so serious. The guy who flirted shamelessly, who rarely stuck around for more than a night, was now telling you he wanted to take you on a proper date before anything happened between you.
“You know,” you said after a beat, your tone teasing but your heart pounding, “you did technically buy me a round earlier at the bar.”
Jake shook his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Nice try, darlin’. A beer doesn’t count as dinner.”
You sighed dramatically, leaning back slightly and crossing your arms over your chest. “Jake, it’s late. It’s literally Christmas Eve. Nowhere that you would deem worthy of our first date is going to be open.”
Jake laughed, his hands still resting on your hips. “Guess we’ll have to wait then.”
“Or,” you said, sitting up straighter, an idea forming in your mind, “you can give me your phone.”
Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Why?”
“Just trust me,” you said, holding out your hand.
He hesitated for a moment before sighing and reaching into his pocket to hand it over. You unlocked the screen, your fingers moving quickly as you opened the Uber Eats app.
Jake leaned forward slightly, peering over your shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Ordering dinner,” you said simply, scrolling through the options for one of the few places still open this late on Christmas Eve.
Jake watched as you added something to the cart, then handed the phone back to him. “Go ahead, pick something for yourself.”
Still looking slightly bewildered, Jake glanced down at the screen, his brow furrowing as he scanned the menu. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” you said, smirking at him. 
Jake sighed, clearly still confused, but he added an item to the order and placed it. As soon as the confirmation screen popped up, he turned to you, shaking his head. “All right, now you’ve got to tell me—what was the point of all that?”
You grinned, leaning forward slightly so your face was inches from his. “Because now you’ve technically bought me dinner,” you said, your tone teasing but your eyes locked on his.
Jake stared at you for a moment, then threw his head back with a laugh. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“Maybe,” you said, your voice dropping to a softer, more serious tone. “But now that you’ve fulfilled your ‘dinner first’ rule, are you going to fuck me or not?”
Jake’s laughter died down, replaced by a look that made your stomach flip. His hands tightened slightly on your hips as his gaze darkened, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 
“You’re something else,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “But if we’re doing this, darlin’, we’re doing it my way.”
You tilted your head, eyeing him curiously. “Your way, huh?” you teased, the corner of your lips quirking up. “And what exactly does your way mean?”
Jake didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hands tightened on your hips, and before you could even process what was happening, he stood up with you still straddling his lap.
“Jake!” you yelped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for balance as he stood effortlessly, holding you against him like you weighed nothing.
He grinned down at you, completely unfazed by your reaction, and started walking down the hallway. “First rule,” he drawled, his voice low and steady, “your first time with me is not going to be on my couch.”
You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks as his words sank in. “Oh,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jake chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he carried you with ease, the hallway narrowing around you. “You deserve better than that, darlin’,” he continued, his tone softening slightly. “So, my way means I’m going to take my time with you. Do it right, starting with getting you on a bed.”
You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. The way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world—was enough to leave you breathless.
When he reached the door at the end of the hall, Jake shifted you slightly in his arms so he could turn the handle, nudging the door open with his foot. The room beyond was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting warm shadows across the space.
Jake stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him with a soft thud. He finally set you down, your feet touching the plush carpet, but his hands didn’t leave your waist.
You glanced around, your nerves and excitement battling for dominance. “So…what’s the second rule?” you asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably as your voice wavered.
Jake’s lips quirked into a smirk as he leaned down, his face so close to yours that his breath fanned across your skin. 
“The second rule,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp, “is that I’m going to make sure you enjoy every second of this.”
Your breath hitched, your hands sliding up his chest almost instinctively. “That’s…a pretty good rule,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jake’s smirk widened as his hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him. “Good,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes dark with intent. “Because I don’t break my own rules.”
With that, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, a stark contrast to the heated kisses you’d shared earlier. His hands roamed your back, his touch firm but careful, like he was savoring every moment.
You melted into him, your arms looping around his neck as the kiss deepened. His tongue slid against yours, drawing a soft whimper from you that only seemed to spur him on.
His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your waist. But instead of rushing to remove it quickly, he took his time, his touch reverent as he pushed the fabric up inch by inch.
You broke the kiss for just a moment, your breath coming in soft pants as you let him pull your shirt over your head. His gaze raked over you, his eyes darkening as he took you in.
“Goddamn,” Jake murmured, his voice husky. “You’re beautiful.”
Heat flooded your cheeks, but before you could respond, he was kissing you again, his hands sliding up your back and pulling you closer.
Jake’s lips broke away from yours, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. Slowly, he trailed his kisses along your jaw, the gentle scrape of his stubble sending shivers down your spine. His lips moved lower, finding the sensitive curve of your neck.
At first, the kisses were light, teasing. But then he began sucking and biting softly, testing different spots until he hit the one that made your head fall back with a soft gasp, your fingers tightening in the hair at the nape of his neck.
The sound you made—the small, unrestrained moan that escaped your lips—had Jake pausing for the briefest moment before he let out a low groan of his own, his mouth returning to the same spot with renewed focus. This time, he nipped a little harder, drawing another reaction out of you.
“Jake,” you warned softly, your breath hitching as you tugged at his hair. “Don’t leave a mark.”
You felt his lips curve into a smirk against your neck. 
“Why not?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as his teeth grazed your skin. Before you could answer, he added in a quiet whisper, “I kinda like the idea of everyone knowing you’re my girl.”
That pulled your head up, and you gave him a look, arching a brow. “Your girl, huh?”
Jake didn’t miss a beat, his green eyes locking onto yours as he leaned in close, his lips brushing just below your ear. “My girl,” he repeated, his voice filled with a confidence that made your heart race.
You barely had time to process his words before his mouth was back on your skin, moving lower this time. He kissed along your collarbone, his lips pressing against every inch of exposed skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
When he reached the strap of your bra, his fingers deftly reached around your back. With a practiced ease that had you smirking slightly, he unclasped it. He pulled back just enough to slide the straps down your arms, his hands warm and firm against your skin as he discarded the lacey fabric to the floor.
Jake’s gaze dropped, and his lips parted slightly as his eyes roamed over you. For a moment, he said nothing, his expression somewhere between awe and hunger. Then, a slow grin spread across his face.
“This is what you wore to the bar?” he asked, his voice playful but edged with disbelief.
You blushed, rolling your eyes even as you smiled. “It’s laundry day,” you mumbled. “All the comfy stuff was in the wash.”
Jake chuckled, his hands sliding up your sides to rest just below your chest. “Laundry day, huh?” 
“Yes, why? Do you have a problem with my choice of undergarments?”
“Not exactly,” he teased, his grin widening. “But that…is way too sexy for just a casual night out with friends.”
His thumb brushed just below the curve of your breast, sending a spark of warmth straight through you.
You rolled your eyes again, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “It’s just a bra, Jake,” you muttered, though your voice wavered slightly.
He didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, he leaned forward, his mouth finding the soft skin of your chest. His lips were warm and gentle, kissing along the swell of your breast before his tongue flicked against your skin.
Your breath hitched, and Jake’s hands shifted to your hips, holding you firmly in place as he continued. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your skin, his lips and tongue working in tandem to explore every inch. When he finally reached your nipple, his mouth closed around it, drawing a soft moan from you that only seemed to spur him on.
His hands tightened on your hips as his other hand slid up, cupping your other breast and giving it the same attention. Jake groaned softly against your skin, clearly enjoying himself, and the sound sent a shiver through you.
Jake pulled back for a moment, just enough to glance up at you with a wicked grin. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he teased, his voice low and rough. “Didn’t know you were hiding these under all those sweaters and jackets.”
You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers sliding into his hair. “Shut up, Jake,” you muttered, pulling him back to you.
He laughed softly but didn’t argue, his mouth returning to your chest with renewed enthusiasm. Jake Seresin might have had a reputation for being cocky and playful, but in this moment, he was focused, almost reverent, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.
Jake's lips were still warm against your skin, his tongue flicking over the same sensitive spot on your chest that had you squirming against him, when a sudden thought crossed your mind. You realized how uneven the situation was—your bra was already on the floor, and yet here he was, still fully dressed.
Not one to let such an imbalance slide, you tugged at the hem of his shirt. Jake pulled back, his green eyes flicking to yours in question, his mouth curving into a smug smile when he caught on.
You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond, simply giving the fabric another tug. Jake let out a quiet laugh, sitting up slightly so he could pull the shirt over his head. The movement was so fluid, so effortless, that it was almost infuriating. And when he tossed the shirt aside, your mouth went dry.
Your eyes trailed over him slowly, taking in the broad expanse of his chest, the defined lines of his abs, and the way his skin seemed to glow under the dim light of his apartment. You’d known Jake Seresin was fit—anyone could tell just by looking at him—but this? This was something else entirely.
Your hands moved instinctively, sliding over the hard planes of his chest, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips making your pulse race. You traced the subtle curve of his muscles, your thumb brushing over a faint scar just below his collarbone, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.
Jake caught the sound, his brow lifting as he smirked. “What’s so funny, darlin’?”
You shook your head, trying to find the words but failing. Instead, you blurted, “You’re not real.”
That caught him off guard, and he chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. “Not real, huh?”
You gestured vaguely at him, your hands hovering just above his abs. “Nobody looks like this in real life. I mean… how? Do you, like, live in the gym or something?”
Jake laughed again, clearly amused by your reaction. He leaned back slightly, his hands resting on your thighs as he regarded you with a playful gleam in his eyes. “It’s all just good genetics, sweetheart,” he drawled, his smirk widening. “But if you wanna keep admiring, don’t let me stop you.”
You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the blush creeping into your cheeks. “Cocky,” you muttered, though your hands betrayed you by continuing their exploration, tracing the ridges of his muscles like you were committing them to memory.
“Confident,” Jake corrected, leaning forward again so that his face was just inches from yours. “And besides…” His lips brushed lightly against your jaw, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You’re not exactly keeping your hands to yourself, darlin’.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, your blush deepening as his teasing smirk only grew wider. His confidence was maddening, but it also sent a rush of heat through you that you couldn’t ignore. Finally, you huffed and muttered, “You talk too much.”
Jake tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more mischievous. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”
Without missing a beat, you leaned in close, your breath brushing against his lips as you whispered, “Shut up and kiss me, Seresin.”
His eyes darkened at your words, the playful light in them replaced with something deeper, hungrier. He didn’t hesitate. His hand slid up to cup the back of your neck as he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours.
His hand at your neck tilted your head just enough to deepen the kiss, while his other hand tightened its grip on your waist, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between your bodies.
You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest and over his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the short hair at the back of his head. When he nipped at your bottom lip, your soft gasp gave him the perfect opening, and his tongue swept into your mouth, stealing whatever clever retort you might have had.
Jake broke the kiss just long enough to guide you backward. His strong hands shifted to your hips as he maneuvered you gently, lowering you onto the bed as if you weighed nothing. His lips found yours again before your head even hit the pillow, his body following as he braced himself over you, one forearm resting beside your head while his other hand remained at your waist.
The bed dipped slightly under your combined weight, and you felt the cool sheets against your back, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you and Jake. His kisses grew slower, deeper, his mouth moving over yours in a way that made your toes curl. His free hand slid up your side, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as it found your cheek, tilting your face toward his for better access.
You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—all you could do was feel. The warmth of his body, the intoxicating way he kissed you, the steady weight of him pressing you into the mattress—it was overwhelming in the best way.
Jake finally pulled back, just enough to look down at you, his lips red and swollen, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His gaze was molten as it roamed over your face, lingering on your kiss-bruised lips before meeting your eyes.
“You’re something else,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. His thumb brushed gently over your cheek, and his lips quirked into a softer, almost reverent smile. “You know that?”
Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared up at him, the sincerity in his expression taking your breath away all over again. You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice, but all that came out was a whisper. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Jake’s lips hovered above yours, his breath warm against your skin, but his hands began to move, dragging your focus away from the way his mouth made you feel and to the steady path his fingers were tracing. They slid down your sides with a deliberate slowness, his thumbs brushing teasingly over your hips before they stopped at the waistband of your jeans.
He shifted back just slightly, his hands working to pop the button open and tug the zipper down. His green eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the spark of mischief in them sent a jolt of anticipation straight through you. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.”
You did as he asked, and he made quick work of guiding your jeans down your legs, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that left goosebumps in their wake. The denim hit the floor, and Jake’s gaze swept over you, lingering when he noticed the lacy underwear that matched the bra he’d already discarded.
A slow smirk spread across his face, the kind that made your stomach flip and your cheeks flush. “Now this,” he said, his voice dripping with that signature cockiness, “is a sight I could get used to.”
His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, and with one smooth motion, he slid them down your legs and discarded them on the floor beside your jeans. His hands returned to your thighs, his touch featherlight as he traced patterns over your skin. 
“From now on,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to the inside of your knee, “you only wear these for me. Got it?”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at the sheer audacity of the man in front of you. “And what makes you think this will be more than a one-time thing,” you challenged, raising an eyebrow.
Jake didn’t even blink at your question. Instead, he leaned back slightly, resting his weight on his knees as his hands slid higher up your thighs. “Because you don’t do casual,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. His hands stilled just shy of where you wanted them, his thumbs brushing agonizingly close to the heat pooling between your legs. “You don’t do one-night hookups.”
His words were confident, but then that cocky grin returned, and he leaned down just enough that his lips hovered above your skin. His thumb trailed teasingly over your inner thigh, not quite touching you where you needed him most, and it was maddening.
“And because,” he continued, his voice low and teasing, “I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already trying to get more.” His thumb brushed a little closer this time, still not quite enough, and the sharp intake of breath you let out didn’t escape his notice.
Your hips tilted up instinctively, desperate for more contact, but Jake pulled his hand back just slightly, his grin widening as he caught your movement.
“See what I mean?” he teased, his voice dripping with that infuriating self-assurance. “One night’s not gonna be enough for you, sweetheart. You won’t be able to get enough of me.”
Jake’s smirk deepened as he continued his slow, agonizing teasing, his fingers dancing closer and closer to where you needed him.
“Patience, sweetheart,” he drawled, his green eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned down to press a kiss to the curve of your hip. “Good things come to those who wait.”
Your head fell back against the pillows, a frustrated groan slipping from your lips. You felt like you were about to combust, every nerve ending on fire as Jake toyed with you like it was some kind of game. The worst part? He knew exactly what he was doing.
“Jake,” you started, your voice laced with exasperation as you lifted your head to glare at him. “I swear to God—”
Before you could finish your sentence, his fingers finally moved, pressing against you in just the right spot. The sudden surge of pleasure ripped the words right from your throat, replacing them with a sharp, breathy moan that had Jake’s grin widening in satisfaction.
“That’s more like it,” he murmured, his voice low and smug as his fingers began working in slow, deliberate circles, coaxing another soft sound from your lips. “Knew you’d sound pretty, but damn, sweetheart, I didn’t think you’d sound this good.”
Your hands fisted the sheets beside you, your back arching slightly off the bed as the pressure built, wave after wave crashing over you with every precise movement of his hand. “Jake…” His name came out like a plea, your voice trembling as you tried to catch your breath.
He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “I’ve got you, darlin’. Just let me take care of you.”
His free hand slid up your side, his thumb brushing along your ribs in a soothing gesture that contrasted sharply with the fire he was setting off with every calculated touch. Your hips tilted toward him, desperate for more, and Jake was quick to oblige, his fingers pressing harder, moving faster, drawing out the kind of pleasure that had your head spinning and your thoughts unraveling.
The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, Jake shifted slightly, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was every bit as intoxicating as the way his hands worked your body. It was messy and consuming, his tongue brushing against yours in a rhythm that matched the movements of his fingers, as if he was determined to pull every last sound from your lips.
When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, your forehead pressed against his, your fingers gripping his biceps for support. He didn’t stop, though, his lips trailing down your jaw, over your neck, and back to the spot on your collarbone that had you shivering.
“You doing okay there, sweetheart?” he teased, his breath warm against your skin as he chuckled softly. “Seem a little… speechless.”
Jake’s fingers slowed just enough to pull you back from the edge, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him. A frustrated whimper escaped your lips, and you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, his lips were at your ear, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
“Tell me, sweetheart,” he murmured, the heat of his breath against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. “Have you ever thought about this before? About me? About my hands on you like this?”
Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you could feel your face heat, your body betraying you as a rush of arousal coursed through you. Of course, you’d thought about it. You’d thought about it far more times than you cared to admit, in moments you’d never expected and in ways that had left you wondering what it would feel like to have Jake Seresin in this exact position.
But you weren’t about to tell him that.
“No,” you managed to say, though the breathiness of your voice betrayed your attempt at indifference.
Jake chuckled low, the sound vibrating against your skin as he pressed a kiss just below your ear. His fingers started moving again, slow and deliberate, building that fire inside you all over again. “Liar,” he whispered, his tone dripping with confidence.
Your breath hitched as his hand worked you over with maddening precision, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I think you’ve thought about this a lot,” he continued, his voice soft but insistent, like a secret he was unraveling. “About me touching you like this. About me kissing you. About me making you fall apart.”
Your hips bucked against his hand involuntarily, a quiet gasp slipping from your lips. Jake’s smirk was audible in his next words. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured.
“Jake…” you warned, though the word lacked any real heat, your voice shaking as he pushed you closer to the edge again.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he urged, his voice still low and intimate, as if the moment was just for the two of you. “Tell me the truth. You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”
You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but your body told a different story, arching into his touch, chasing the release he kept pulling just out of reach.
“Still not talking, huh?” he teased, his lips ghosting over your neck. “That’s okay. I think I already know the answer.”
You let out a frustrated groan, your head falling back against the pillow as Jake’s fingers slowed again, denying you the release you so desperately craved.
“Jake, I swear to God—”
“Say the word,” he whispered, his voice dark and tempting. “Say you want this. Say you want me.”
Your resolve crumbled under the weight of his touch, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the teasing rhythm of his fingers sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You couldn’t take it anymore, the denial of release driving you mad.
“Fine,” you blurted out, your voice a mix of desperation and surrender. “I’ve thought about it. About you. Happy now?”
Jake froze for a moment, his smirk widening as he absorbed your confession, his ego clearly basking in your words. “Damn right I am,” he drawled, his tone as smug as ever. His fingers picked up their pace again, but this time with a newfound determination, his touch deliberate and calculated as he pushed you closer to the edge once more.
“Have you thought about my hands doing this?” he murmured, shifting his hand ever so slightly, his movements slow and precise as he watched your reaction.
Your body arched involuntarily, a strangled moan escaping your lips. You couldn’t lie even if you wanted to.
He chuckled, his lips brushing against your neck as he continued. “Or maybe this?” He changed the angle of his touch again, his fingers finding just the right spot that had you gasping, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“Jake,” you panted, your voice trembling with need, but he wasn’t done yet.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he pressed, his tone both teasing and possessive. 
“How many nights have you thought about this? About me making you feel this good?”
You let out a whimper, the pressure inside you building to an unbearable intensity. “Please, Jake,” you finally begged, your voice cracking as you tilted your hips toward his hand, desperate for the release he was holding just out of reach.
“Please, what?” he whispered, his voice dark and enticing.
“Please, just—”
Before you could finish, he gave you exactly what you needed, his fingers working you over with perfect precision, sending you hurtling over the edge. A cry tore from your lips as the tension snapped, your body trembling under the overwhelming wave of pleasure.
Jake didn’t stop, his hand staying steady as he guided you through your release, murmuring soft praises in your ear.
“That’s it, baby,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing replaced with something more intimate, more sincere. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
Your hands clutched at him as you rode out the high, your breathing ragged and uneven as he slowed his movements, easing you back down. His free hand caressed your side, grounding you as you came back to yourself.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
As the intensity slowly ebbed away, you opened your eyes to find Jake watching you. The cocky smirk you'd expected wasn’t there—instead, he was looking at you with something softer, something that made your chest tighten. His hand brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his touch lingering for just a moment before pulling back. He gave you a small, almost shy smile, one that you’d never seen before.
“What?” you asked nervously, returning the smile as your heart pounded for an entirely different reason now.
Jake shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting into something more tender than teasing. “You’re beautiful,” he said quietly, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
You blinked at him, caught completely off guard. He wasn’t grinning or smirking or full of his usual bravado—he was just Jake, looking at you like you were the only thing in the room.
Heat rose to your cheeks, and you didn’t know what to say. “Oh,” you whispered, your voice soft as his words settled over you.
The moment stretched between you, and for the first time, Jake looked away, almost as if realizing how vulnerable he’d made himself. But instead of pulling back, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, a gesture so tender it made your chest ache.
“Let’s get you some water,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. But as he moved to stand, his fingers brushed yours, lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter all over again.
And at that moment, you knew—this wasn’t just some casual hookup with him. You weren’t sure what it was yet, but it was more.
Jake disappeared into the walk in closet, leaving you alone in his bedroom for a moment. When he returned, he had one of his shirts in hand—soft, worn, and smelling distinctly like him. He tossed it to you with a crooked smile.
“Figured you’d be more comfortable in this,” he said before turning toward the door, giving you a bit of privacy to change.
Once you slipped into the oversized shirt, you padded out to find him in the kitchen, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge. He twisted the cap off and handed it to you as you approached.
“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a long sip.
Jake nodded toward the couch. “Come on. Sit with me.”
You followed him over, sinking into the cushion next to him, leaving a respectable amount of space between you. Jake glanced at the gap and raised an eyebrow, smirking just slightly.
“You scared of me now or something?” he teased, his voice soft but warm.
You rolled your eyes, but before you could come up with a response, Jake reached over and tugged gently at your hand, coaxing you closer. “C’mere,” he said, his tone so inviting you didn’t think to resist.
You shifted over until your thigh brushed against his, and Jake draped an arm along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing your shoulder. He didn’t push for more, didn’t try to crowd you—he just held you there, close enough to feel his warmth.
“You good?” he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.
You nodded, leaning slightly into him. “Yeah. I’m good.”
For a while, neither of you said anything. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the fridge in the kitchen and the occasional creak of the couch as you both shifted to get more comfortable. Eventually, you rested your head against Jake’s shoulder, and you could feel him relax beneath you, the tension in his body melting away.
This—whatever this was—felt easy. And for now, you were content to let it be.
The silence between you settled into something soft, the kind of quiet where you could hear your own thoughts but didn’t mind sharing the space with someone else. Jake absentmindedly brushed his fingers along your arm, his touch light, comforting.
But then the thought hit you, and you started to feel a twinge of guilt. Jake had gone out of his way to make sure you felt incredible, but you hadn’t done the same for him. The realization sat heavily in your chest, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you shifted slightly, sitting up to look at him.
"Hey," you said, your voice quieter than you expected.
Jake tilted his head toward you, the corners of his lips quirking up. "What’s on your mind, darlin’?"
You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip for a second. "I just... I feel bad. You—you got me to, you know, but I didn’t—"
Jake’s low laugh cut you off, his head tipping back for a moment before he looked at you again, his eyes warm and amused. "You feel bad about that?"
"Well... yeah," you admitted, your cheeks heating. You glanced away, feeling the awkwardness creep in. "I mean, do you... want me to...?" You trailed off, unable to meet his gaze.
Jake reached over and gently tipped your chin up so you had to look at him. His expression wasn’t teasing this time, but soft, almost tender.
"I don’t need you to do anything," he said, his voice steady. "Tonight was about you. I wanted to make sure you felt good. That’s enough for me."
You blinked, a little thrown by how sincere he sounded. "Really?"
He nodded, leaning back and letting his arm settle across your shoulders again. "Really," he said, the hint of a smile still tugging at his lips. "But I appreciate the offer. Makes me feel pretty special."
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile that broke through. "You’re impossible."
"Yeah, but you like me anyway," he quipped, his grin widening as you shook your head and settled back against his shoulder.
The room fell into a quiet lull, the kind that was filled with comfort rather than awkwardness. Jake’s arm rested across your shoulders, his fingers lazily tracing circles along your arm. You let your head rest against him, but the words you’d been mulling over stuck in your throat.
Finally, you worked up the courage to look up at him, your voice soft, almost hesitant. "Jake?"
"Hmm?" He turned his head slightly, his green eyes meeting yours.
"Can I..." You paused, nervousness creeping in, but you pushed forward. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"
Jake’s grin spread across his face almost immediately, cocky but somehow still sweet. "Where else would you sleep?"
You shrugged, suddenly feeling shy under the weight of his gaze. "I don’t know. The couch maybe..."
Before you could finish the thought, Jake leaned in and kissed you, his lips soft and warm, pulling you right back into the ease of being with him. When he pulled away, his grin had softened into something tender, something that made your heart skip a beat.
"You can sleep with me every night," he murmured, his fingers brushing another stray piece of hair from your face.
Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you just smiled, leaning into him as his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer. In that moment, the thought of waking up next to Jake every morning didn’t feel so crazy after all.
* * * *
The morning light streamed through the blinds, coaxing you awake. Your head throbbed faintly—a mild reminder of the last beer you probably shouldn’t have had. Blinking against the sunlight, you looked around, disoriented for a moment. This wasn’t your apartment.
And then it all came back. Last night. Jake bringing you home. The teasing, the kissing, the way he had pulled you close and told you that you could sleep with him every night. The memories brought a mix of warmth and guilt as you realized just how many lines of friendship you had crossed in a single evening.
Sitting up, you glanced over at the other side of the bed, half expecting Jake to still be there. But his side was empty, the covers slightly rumpled. You pushed them off and padded out of the bedroom, your bare feet cold against the hardwood.
As you stepped into the living room, you froze in place, utterly speechless at the sight before you.
Jake was lying on the floor, one arm propped up to support his head, his body stretched out lazily. He was barefoot, in jeans that fit a little too well, no shirt, and a Stetson cowboy hat perched on his head.
Your mouth opened, then closed, your brain short-circuiting. You weren’t sure whether to laugh, blush, or scold him for how ridiculous he looked—and how ridiculously good he looked at the same time.
“What,” you finally managed, “are you doing?”
Jake’s lips curved into that signature smirk of his, the one that always got him into trouble and, apparently, you as well. “What does it look like? Tall, hot, in a Stetson. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
Your jaw dropped as you remembered your flippant comment from the night before, and a laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it. “Are you serious right now?”
He stood up in one smooth motion, the hat still perfectly in place as he strolled toward you. “I’m Texan, darlin’. Born and raised. Owning a Stetson is a right of passage.”
You shook your head, laughing harder now as he stopped in front of you. “You’re ridiculous.”
He leaned down, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Ridiculous enough to make you laugh this hard first thing in the morning?”
“Yeah, well…” You tried to form a witty comeback, but the way he was looking at you—half playful, half something much softer—made your words catch in your throat.
Jake’s smirk softened into a smile as he tilted his head closer. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, before leaning in to kiss you.
And just like that, the absurdity of the morning melted away, leaving only the feel of his lips on yours and the flutter in your chest that you weren’t quite ready to name.
Jake’s hands slid to your waist, his grip firm yet gentle as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a confidence that made your knees weak, and you swore you felt his smirk against your mouth when your hands instinctively gripped his shoulders for balance.
Without breaking the kiss, Jake’s fingers tightened slightly on your hips, and he murmured, “Jump.”
You hesitated for only a fraction of a second before doing as he asked. His hands were steady as they guided you, and your legs wrapped around his waist naturally. He held you effortlessly, the warmth of his skin against your thighs making your breath hitch.
“You’re way too good at this,” you whispered against his lips, your voice teasing but a little breathless.
Jake pulled back just enough to flash you that cocky grin you knew all too well. “Darlin’, I was born good at this.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto your face. Then, just like that, he was moving, carrying you down the hallway as though you weighed nothing.
The hat was still perched on his head, slightly tilted from your movements, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “You’re seriously keeping the hat on?”
He glanced at you with a raised brow, that grin still firmly in place. “You said tall, hot, in a Stetson. I’m just giving the lady what she wants.”
“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, but your words were swallowed by another kiss as he carried you into the bedroom.
Jake lowered you onto the bed with care, the playful edge giving way to something more deliberate, more intense, as he hovered over you. His green eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, the room felt still, the air between you charged with something electric.
“Guess that makes me your cowboy now,” he said softly, his voice low and teasing, but there was a hint of sincerity there that made your chest tighten.
And before you could respond, his lips were back on yours, and nothing else mattered.
Jake kissed you with a hunger that sent a spark straight through you. His hands slid up your thighs, the warmth of his palms setting fire to your skin as he pressed you into the mattress. The Stetson, still sitting askew on his head, was the perfect blend of ridiculous and sexy, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing softly against his lips.
“What’s so funny, darlin’?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that made your stomach flip.
You reached up, plucking the hat off his head, and twirled it in your fingers with a smirk. “Just trying to decide if this thing makes you hotter… or if it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”
Jake chuckled, pulling back slightly, his weight still braced above you. “Go on then, put it on. Let’s see if you can pull it off.”
Your eyes narrowed playfully, accepting the challenge. Sliding the Stetson onto your head, you tilted it just slightly, giving him a mock-serious look. “How do I look?”
Jake’s gaze darkened instantly, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Like trouble,” he drawled.
The heat in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Emboldened by the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted—you took a deep breath and gave his chest a small push. Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but he rolled to his back without protest, his hands guiding you along with him until you were straddling his hips.
His smirk grew as he settled beneath you, his hands resting on your waist. “This what you had in mind?” he asked, his tone a teasing challenge.
You didn’t give him time to comment further before you rolled your hips slowly, teasing him. You reached down and grabbed the bottom of his shirt that you had slept in and quickly slid it off, leaving you completely bare. You reach for the hat that had been knocked off and carefully placed it back on your head.
Jake groaned, his head falling back for a moment as his grip on your waist tightened. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game, darlin’.”
“Am I?” you teased, leaning forward just enough that the brim of the hat shadowed your face, leaving him staring up at you like you’d stolen all the air from his lungs.
Jake’s hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing over your ribs as he guided your movements. “You’re wearin’ nothin’ but my hat and lookin’ like that,” he muttered, his voice low and ragged.
You laughed softly, but your amusement quickly faded as the heat between you grew. The way his hands moved over you—possessive yet gentle—was making it impossible to keep the pace slow.
As you shifted and leaned forward again, Jake reached up, tipping the brim of the hat slightly. “You’re somethin’ else,” he said softly, his green eyes locked on yours.
For once, the cockiness was gone from his voice, replaced with a raw honesty that left you breathless. You didn’t respond, couldn’t, as you captured his lips again and let the heat between you consume every other thought.
The heat between your bodies was electric, every touch and movement sending sparks skittering across your skin. You shifted slightly, lifting your hips just enough to position yourself over him. Jake’s breath hitched, and his hands instinctively gripped your thighs, steadying you as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.
For a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Your eyes locked with his, and the teasing glint in his green gaze had softened into something deeper, something that made your heart skip a beat. Without a word, he let his hands glide up your sides, the warmth of his palms grounding you as you slowly sank down onto him.
A shuddered groan escaped Jake’s lips, and you couldn’t hold back the small gasp that left yours. The sensation was overwhelming, but it wasn’t just physical—it was the way he looked at you, like you were something precious, something he wanted to memorize with every touch.
Jake sat up slightly, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, pressing his forehead to yours as your breaths mingled. For a moment, neither of you moved. The intimacy of it, the closeness, was almost too much to bear. His thumbs traced small circles against your skin, grounding you in the moment.
When you finally began to move, it was slow, deliberate, like the two of you were trying to savor every second. Jake’s lips found yours, and the kiss was anything but hurried. It was deep, consuming, a perfect match to the rhythm you’d set. His hands explored your back, your sides, your hips, mapping every inch of you like he never wanted to forget.
As the pace quickened, so did the intensity. Jake’s lips left yours to trail along your jaw, down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver racing through you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you tipped your head back, surrendering completely to the moment.
His grip on your waist tightened, and his lips found the hollow of your throat. Every movement between you spoke louder than words ever could—the way his hands caressed you, the way your body arched into his, the way his lips lingered on your skin like he couldn’t get enough.
This wasn’t just a fleeting moment, and you could feel it in the way he held you. He wasn’t just here for now—he was here for you, wholly and completely. And though neither of you spoke, the weight of that realization settled between you, amplifying the passion that had consumed you both.
As the rhythm between you grew more urgent, Jake leaned back, letting his head hit the pillow as his hands guided your hips. His eyes were locked on you, full of heat and awe, like he couldn’t believe you were real. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Your gaze softened as you leaned down, brushing your lips against his in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. The way he looked at you, touched you, kissed you—it was like he was unraveling every fear you’d ever had about being vulnerable, about letting someone in.
When the moment finally crested, your head fell forward, your lips finding the crook of his neck as he held you close, his hands splayed against your back to steady you. You stayed like that for a moment, tangled together, neither of you willing to pull away.
Jake’s fingers brushed over your spine, his touch gentle as your breathing began to slow. He tilted his head to press a soft kiss to your temple, and you felt the tension in his body ease as he cradled you against him.
No words were spoken, but they weren’t needed. Everything you felt, everything he felt—it was all there, in the way he held you, in the way you lingered against him, unwilling to let the moment end.
The silence in the room was peaceful, broken only by the sound of your slowing breaths and the faint rustle of the sheets. Jake’s hand skimmed lazily along your back, his touch soothing and warm as you rested against his chest. For a moment, you both just lay there, content in the afterglow of everything that had passed between you.
But of course, Jake couldn’t let the moment stay quiet for too long. His fingers danced lightly along your spine, and you felt his chest rumble with a low chuckle.
“So,” he drawled, his tone laced with that familiar cocky edge, “was it everything you imagined it would be? Or do you need another round for comparison purposes?”
You let out a soft laugh, lifting your head to look at him. His grin was downright smug, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, even as your lips tugged into a smile. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered for what felt like the tenth time since you arrived at Jake's place last night, propping yourself up on one elbow.
Jake smirked, clearly unbothered by your comment. “Ridiculous, maybe, but you like it.”
“Debatable,” you teased, your tone light and playful as you reached up to brush a strand of hair out of your face.
His grin only widened, and he gave a small shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Hey, I don’t blame you for falling for the whole ‘hot guy in a Stetson’ thing. Happens to the best of ‘em.”
You laughed again, shaking your head. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“Mm, maybe,” Jake said, leaning in just enough to brush his lips against yours. “But I think you like me anyway.”
You wanted to argue, to fire back some witty retort, but the softness in his gaze stopped you short. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin as he smiled at you—not his usual cocky grin, but something quieter, more genuine.
“I mean it,” he said softly, his voice carrying none of the teasing from before. “You’re…amazing.”
You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, and you dropped your eyes, suddenly shy. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
Jake chuckled, his hand sliding down to rest on your waist as he pulled you closer. “Not so bad, huh? I’ll take it.”
You laughed, the sound light and easy as you settled back against him, your head resting on his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as the playful banter faded into a comfortable silence.
As your eyes began to drift closed, you felt Jake press a kiss to the top of your head, his voice soft and warm as he murmured, “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
And for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything might just be exactly as it should be.
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coldfanbou · 2 months ago
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Kinkcember Day 16: NTR...sort of
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Alrighty, here we go with Momo and Sana. Sidenote: I did make changes to it and also stepcest again; y'all snuck it in this time. Also it's hard to classify this one because it is in a gray area.
Length 2.1K
Momo X M reader X Sana
You gather in the dining room with your foster parents and foster siblings, ready to hear the news they were so excited to give. “Alright, everyone! The news your mother and I have to share is that we have a great business opportunity. We’ll have to travel abroad for a few weeks, so we need you all to watch the house.” You look around at your foster siblings, Momo and Sana.  You didn’t trust them to help watch the place at all. You knew them, having grown up in foster care together. They would make a mess the first chance they got. They had been spoiled ever since you all got lumped together with your foster parents. Despite none of you being related, you got along fairly well; you saw each other as family.
“Hey, Mom, Dad. I’m not so sure this is a good idea.” You tell them, looking at your older sisters.
“Oh, come on, it’ll be fine!” Sana whines, slapping your shoulder. She turns to your mom and smiles, “You can count on us to take care of the home, right, Momo?”
“Hm? Oh yeah! We’ll take good care of it and our little brother.” Momo says, pinching your cheek.
As your parents steer the conversation back to their trip, you knock her hand away. “Well, we trust you’ll be able to avoid killing each other while we’re gone. We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.” The conversation dwindles after your parents leave the room.
Momo and Sana turn to you, “We’re going to have so much fun together!”
“Actually, I was going to go out with someone, so I might be gone a couple of days.” The pair quiet down, looking at you seriously.
“Who are you going to see?” Momo asks, taking a small step forward.
“Just some girl I’ve been talking to.” You reply. Sana and Momo gulp before looking at each other.
“Oh, well, we’ll just have to plan something then,” Sana says, glancing at Momo. The pair leave the room quickly, heading up to Sana’s bedroom. After your parents leave, the three of you spend time together laughing and joking.
All seemed to be going well. On the third day in the house, though, Momo sneaks into your room, climbing onto your bed. “Don’t hate us; we need to do this. You’re my sweet little brother; we can’t hand you over to anyone.” She whispers as she ties your arms and legs to the bed posts. She strips you of your pants and underwear as you sleep and positions herself between your legs.
You groan as you open your eyes; something is touching you. As you lean up, you see Momo running her lips along your cock. Seeing you’re awake, she flashes you a smile, “Good morning,” Momo presses her lips against the head of your cock, “Mwah.”
“Momo! What are you doing?” You try to stop her but realize quickly your hands are tied to the bed. You struggle, trying to move her off you, but Momo holds you down.
“Can’t you see?” She replies, swallowing the tip of your cock. You throw your head back and groan as you feel her tongue swirl around your cock. “Just let your big sister do what she does best.” Momo presses herself to the base of your cock; her tongue slips out from between her lips and laps at your balls before she pulls back, stroking your shaft slowly as she moves down and kisses your balls. She grasps them with her other hand, cupping them as her hand moves along your shaft. “They’re so big; you must be so pent up. Don’t worry, we’ll help you let it all out.” Momo takes you into her mouth again; she bobs her head and gives your balls gentle squeezes as she coaxes precum out of your cock.
You’re unable to say anything as Momo flicks the tip with her tongue, smiling as she feels you squirm under her. “Momo,” you grunt as you feel your climax approaching.
“Just relax and cum when you need to,” she says, moving your cock into the back of her throat the second. Momo’s throat was so warm; part of you wanted to stay there forever.
“We can’t do this!” You shout at her. Pulling back, Momo feels your cock throb against her tongue. She smirked to herself and rubbed her head against the inside of her cheek, watching her squirm as she tried to hold back. You can’t hold it any longer; you flood Momo’s mouth with your cum. She wraps her lips tightly around your shaft, letting every drop flow right onto her tongue. Momo greedily sucks it down, enjoying every drop of the salty liquid. As you finish cumming, you feel her tongue teasingly swirl around the tip one final time before she pops you out of her mouth. Momo grabs your shaft, keeping you hard by moving her hand along your shaft.
The door opens, and you see Sana walking in. She’s wearing lingerie, lacy and white. What grabs your attention first is the fact you can see everything. The bra doesn’t cover her nipples, a small slit in the fabric allows it to poke out. As you look downward, her panties are much the same, a slit in the middle showing you her pink cunt. “Good Morning, little brother,” she chirps.
“What’s this about?”
The pair check your bindings before getting on either side of you; they run their fingers along your chest. “We just want to help you,” Sana whispers before kissing your cheek. “We don’t want to see you with any other girl. We’re more than enough for you. We’ll be your girlfriends from now on.” Sana turns your head and plants her lips on yours before Momo does the same thing.
“We’ll make sure you never want to be with another girl,” Momo whispers, turning your head to face her. Sana brings a bottle out while you aren’t looking, taking a quick drink but keeping the liquid in her mouth. Sana climbs on top of you, grinding on your cock, her moans fluttering as she leans down and kisses you. She forces her tongue into your mouth, sharing the drink with you. You’re forced to drink it. Once you have, Sana pulls back, a shining smile on her face as Momo hands her the bottle, and she takes another drink for herself. She wipes her mouth and continues to grind against you, coating your cock in her juices.  “That’ll help us get in the mood.” She says calmly as she raises herself. Momo aligns your cock with Sana’s entrance.
“Sana, don’t do this; you can still stop,” you shout, struggling against your bindings.
“Now we’ll be together,” She says before lowering herself onto your cock. You feel her warm walls slip around you. You groan loudly; Sana is tight, her walls clinging to you as she takes more of you inside. Sana places her hands on your chest, moaning as she feels your cock stretching her cunt. “Oh, you’re so big,” she groans, finally settling herself on your body. She rocks her hips back and forth, reveling in the feeling of your cock inside her. Your mind becomes cloudy from the drink; the pleasure you felt was like nothing else. You began wanting more; your cock twitched inside her. “I’m glad you’ve come around,” Sana giggles, noticing the movement. She begins bouncing on your cock, moaning as she feels your hands squeeze her waist.  Your body begins reacting to Sana’s; you give slight thrusts as she bounces on your cock. You watch her breasts bounce as she rides you.
Momo steals your attention, though; she turns your head and plants her lips on yours. You feel her weighty breasts rub against your arm. You begin to lose yourself, the pleasure overwhelming any sense of reason. “Don’t leave me out,” Momo whispers as she moves, placing your head between her legs. You stare at her cunt and feel a hunger within you. As Momo lowers herself, you lap at her cunt, moving your tongue over her folds and against her clit. She moans loudly, the sudden rush making her heart skip a beat. Sana smiles and reaches over to Momo, grabbing her breasts and squeezing them between her between her fingers. Momo’s moans overtake Sana’s, filling the room.
It didn’t last long, though, as you begin thrusting properly into Sana, ramming yourself against her womb as she bounces on your cock. The women’s moans mix as you pleasure them. Momo leans in and grabs Sana’s head, pulling her close and kissing the younger woman. Sana is surprised at first but soon falls deeper into it. The women explore each other’s bodies, their hands running from their waist to their breasts. Sana’s heart is filled with joy as she finds her connection with the two of you. She’s reaching her orgasm as she imagines what life will be like after. Momo’s teasing is what sends her over the edge. The older woman twists Sana’s nipples and makes her cum on your cock.
Sana plants herself firmly on you; her walls clamp down on you, making you cum too. Sana whines as she feels your cum flow inside her, filling her pussy. She’s forced to lean on Momo as orgasmic bliss washes over her. “I’m so full,” she mumbles before pressing herself against Momo’s tits. The older woman runs her hand through Sana’s hair, letting her calm down.
“It’s my turn, Sana,” Momo tells the younger woman before kissing her again. Sana complies and lifts herself off your cock. Your cum flows out of her cunt almost immediately; Sana smiles as she sees it. She rests by your side while Momo takes her place. The older woman rubs your cum-coated cock between her folds before sinking onto it. She groans happily as you fill her pussy. “Oh, that’s it. Fill me up.” Momo reaches for her breast, groping it as she begins riding you. You watch the heavy mounds shake and bounce as she takes your cock with ease.
“Just look at her,” Sana says quietly, placing her head on your shoulder. “There’s no one else like her. You understand why we had to do this, right? We’re a family; we should always be together.” Sana runs her finger around your nipple as she gives you a peck on the cheek. “Momo and I will make sure we have the perfect bodies for you so you never have to look anywhere else. You’ll be our boyfriend, our husband.”
You struggle to focus on Sana’s words as Momo continues to ride you, her walls flexing and relaxing around your cock. Each time she takes your cock in, you moan; Momo is too skilled for you to think about anything else.  Sana turns your head and kisses you, feeding you more of her drink. Your resistance had faded long ago. You accept the drink and continue to kiss Sana, playing with her tongue as she holds you close. “We love you, I love you,” Sana says quietly. She turns your head, making you look at Momo. The look of bliss on her face caught your eye. “Look at what you’re doing to Momo; see how much she loves you?” Momo was riding you quickly; she had her hands on your legs as she leaned back and slammed herself onto your cock.
“I want your cum too,” She groans. Momo could feel your cock begin to throb. She was excited and moved quickly, driving your cock against her womb. Her moans became louder and louder. “I want my little brother’s cum, please give it to me.” She cried out, leaning forward and kissing you as she slammed herself down. You both cum; while you’re coated in her nectar, Momo feels her cunt be flooded by your semen. Her body shivers as she embraces the warmth moving inside her. Momo rests against your body, her nipples rubbing against your chest as she takes deep breaths. “I love you,” she says softly, cupping your cheek and kissing you again.
The next few hours are spent with the women taking turns riding you, draining you of your cum. After a few rounds, they untied you, and you began taking advantage of them. You fucked both women until you were all exhausted; they shared your cock, never fighting as you took turns using them, filling their pussies with your cum over and over again. Something about that day changed you; you accepted Sana and Momo just as they wanted.
The following morning you woke up with Sana on your left and Momo on your right, your hand on their bruised asses as they stroked your cock together. “Good Morning,” They moaned as you groped them. “Are you ready for another day?”
982 notes · View notes
disneyprincemuke · 1 year ago
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best dress * fem!driver
when pictures circulate on instagram of her on a night out in her best dress, the guys start to get curious who she’s out and about with on a saturday night
pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver
warnings: none
notes: i may have gotten carried away with this one… and this might have played out a LOT funnier in my head than it does written down
(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)
-> the aftermath
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she pushes the door open and steps out of her racing home. she looks left and right cautiously, careful not to catch her colleagues’ attentions. there’s many nights she’d appreciate their companionship but tonight is not that night.
she can only step one down before her worst nightmare comes to life.
“hey, where are you going?” she turns her head, mouth agape as she meets lando’s curious eyes. his eyes scan her body and his head tilts. “and why are you all dressed up?”
she straightens her body and pats her dress down. she flicks her hair behind her shoulder, trying to ignore the awkward tension in the air.
“um,” she trails off, glancing at the group of engineers walking past them without another thought. “i’m going out tonight.”
lando’s smile drops. “oh,” he slouches, “i was here to ask you if you wanted to grab drinks with us at the bar tonight.”
“hey lando, did you f- what are you wearing?” oscar’s jaw drops, nose scrunched up as he points at her in what can only be described as disgust. “where are you even going?”
“out,” she answers with gritted teeth, glancing at the gantries of the paddocks. it’s so close yet so far away. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? i’ve really got to go.”
“but you never turn down post-quali drinks at the bar,” lando frowns. he presses his palm against his chest and throws his head back. “i can’t believe you’d betray me like that.”
oscar looks her up and down, eyebrow raising as it gets to the heels she’s put on. “why are you wearing heels? seriously, where the hell are you going?”
“exploring the city!”
“exploring the c– we’re here year after year. we know the best spots!” lando defends. “come on! we’re going to have so much fun!”
“you’re exploring the city in heels?”
she narrows her eyes down into a mean glare. of course this is the one time that oscar decides to remember she doesn’t wear high heels for exploration purposes. “yeah.”
“you know you want to come with us.” lando shimmies his shoulders, face hopeful that the driver would change her mind. but she still shakes her head and his smile immediately drops. “fine. be that way.”
“i’m sorry, i already arranged my plans even before we flew to miami,” she laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “if you guys are going out tomorrow, i’m free to join.”
lando intertwines his fingers. “okay. but if you cancel again, i’m crashing into you the next race.”
“okay,” she chuckles, readjusting the strap of her purse. “i’ll catch you guys tomorrow.”
oscar rolls his eyes, but a smile still stretches his lips. “don’t get lost. it’s a big city, (y/n).”
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“yeah, penelope’s doing amazing,” max nods, his arm resting on the back of lando’s chair. one of his legs over the other, he takes a swig of his beer. “she just started school recently.”
“oh, i s-“
“hold up!” lando holds his arm out to max’s chest, his scream startling everyone seated around the table. the light from his phone illuminates his face as everyone turns to him with a puzzled stare. “oh, my god!”
“what?” max answers just as enthusiastically, smacking lando’s thigh to get his attention. lando lifts the phone up into his face, squinting as he tries to make out the person in the picture.
“yeah, don’t cut me off,” george scoffs as he folds his arms over his chest. “i was just asking if-“
“(y/n)’s out on a date!” lando yells, smacking max’s chest. he pushes himself off the chair and throws the phone into george’s lap. “dude, i knew it! i knew there was a reason she’s all dressed up!”
“seriously!” george screams towards his fellow brit.
“a date?” oscar scoffs, in absolute disbelief that his best friend could even have the ability to attract a man. “there’s no way.”
max grins sheepishly, handing the phone over to the australian. “i’m afraid so. someone saw her in a restaurant with a guy,” max states, “it’s all over instagram.”
oscar snorts, slowly analysing the grainy picture of the girl in a restaurant with somebody. sure, it’s similar to the dress she wore when they caught her sneaking out of the paddocks, but how sure can they be that it’s her?
“we should go and find her!” max suggests, his face lighting up and cheeks flushed from all the alcohol. he jumps in his seat and smacks george’s thigh lightly. “dude, let’s find her!”
“are you crazy?” george grabs max’s hand and throws it back at his body. “her date’s none of our business!”
though, lando disagrees with his friend. he clasps his hands together with a loud sound. “let’s go, gentlemen. we’re crashing (y/n)’s date.”
but only max stands up, hands on his hips and chest puffed out. “i’m ready. i’ve got my brave face on.”
“you look absolutely ridiculous,” george raises an eyebrow, “i don’t believe you used to scare off victoria’s suitors when you were younger.”
“me neither, but it somehow worked,” max nods proudly, turning slightly to look at george. “come on! this is practice for when it’s penelope’s turn! i have to make it believable this time.”
“you’re so drunk, mate,” george sighs. yet he still gets off his seat. “but i kinda want to see this with my own eyes.”
lando turns to oscar, still planted in his seat. lando doesn’t get to say a word before oscar starts shaking his head vigorously.
lando slouches. “why not?”
“i absolutely don’t believe that (y/n) is strong enough to take me in a normal fight,” oscar shakes his head, “but i’ve learned my lesson squeezing myself into a scenario that involves her dating life.”
george tilts his head. “what?”
oscar looks up, eyes scanning the three older men towering over him. “she gave me a really bad bruise one time when i scared off this guy that hit on her in the mall.”
“so?” max yanks oscar off his seat. “i’ll protect you. come on, i’ve got to see who’s sweeping (y/n) off her feet.”
“okay, but remember to tell her i tried to stop you,” oscar mutters, letting max push him towards the door.
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after many dms sent on instagram, phone calls made, and struggles to find a taxi, the four have finally arrived at the restaurant. it’s a quiet establishment in the further end of the city, heads turning as passersby recognise the huddled men by the entrance.
“are you sure it’s this one?” oscar looks up at the sign. it’s a lot fancier than he expected. “doesn’t really seem like (y/n)’s gig.”
“if i were taking the grid’s princess out on a date, i’d take her to a fancy restaurant too,” max shrugs, following oscar’s stare.
the amount of time it took them to connect the puzzle pieces really sobered him up.
george taps his foot on the ground, craning his neck for a better look through the window. “are you sure it’s here? i don’t see her.”
“the girl that posted it said she was here when snapped the picture,” lando confirms, looking between his phone screen and the sign of the restaurant. “what if (y/n) tricked us knowing we’d come running?”
once the server comes back out, guiding them to their table, each of them does their own part to pick the girl from the crowd.
“i don’t see her,” max sighs, taking one last look at the restaurant’s tables and picking up the menu. “there’s no way we ditched the bar for a wild goose chase.”
“because she’s in the far corner over there,” oscar says nonchalantly, head flicking towards the other end of the restaurant where it’s slightly darker than normal. “i noticed her when we were outside the restaurant.”
george slowly turns his head to oscar. “while we were busting our asses looking for her?”
oscar shrugs, eyes boring into the menu for a snack to fill himself with. “i told you — i’m not getting another bruise for meddling with her love life.”
“nice! there’s a table closer to her!” max suddenly says, already on his feet to follow the waiter. he turns around and beckons his friends to follow him. “come on!”
they keep their heads low as the face of the familiar girl comes into sight. oscar even covers with his face with the menu, having learned his lesson from all those years ago.
they’re a table diagonal from her, menus up to cover their faces from her. “dude, who is she with?”
“i don’t know, i can’t get a look at his face without revealing mine,” george mutters, peeking slightly above his menu. he darts back down and rolls his eyes. “max, your turn.”
“don’t make it look obvious,” lando mutters, nudging max’s elbow with his. “look like you’re looking for a waiter.”
max swiftly turns in his seat, completely twisting his torso to get a look. but the man is faced away, the driver comfortably sitting in the booth seat as she giggles at something he said.
“dude, i can’t,” max shrugs, shying away behind his menu once more.
to the table next to them, a menu drops and reveals sebastian. “what are you idiots doing here?”
george’s jaw drops, pointing a finger at the older man. “we could ask you the same.”
“we saw her getting in a random ass car outside the paddocks.” the other menu across sebastian lowers, revealing logan with his hood covering his head. “we followed her here.”
“so you know who she’s with?” max asks in a hushed whisper, leaning towards their table. he looks down at the empty table. “you haven’t ordered anything?”
“it took us a while to get a table,” logan shrugs, pulling his hood further down to cover his face. “food’s in the kitchen.”
“oh, what did you get?” max asks, now looking back at the menu for something to order.
“mate!” george scolds, rolling his eyes before facing the other table. “who is she with?”
“according to blythe, it’s jacob elordi,” sebastian says, then shrugs with the roll of his eyes. “whoever that is.”
“oh, i’ve heard of him,” max nods, pressing his lips together. “he was in euphoria, wasn’t he?”
the table falls silent, heads turning to look at the dutchman as his confession falls from his lips. max notices their stares and he simply shrugs. “kelly and i like to watch shows over the break.”
“still not a show i expected you to be watching,” lando scoffs, turning slightly to get a glimpse of the girl once more. “isn’t he a bit too old for her?”
max straightens up, stiffly turning to look at lando. his head tilts as an unimpressed expression lands on his face. “dude. easy on the age gap.”
“yours doesn’t count,” lando sighs, “she’s practically a baby!”
oscar clicks his tongue. “but i mean… jacob elordi isn’t ugly, yes? an upgrade from her only boyfriend, right, max?”
max shrugs. “i guess.”
sebastian nods towards the table, his eyes suddenly widening at the empty booth seat. “where did she go? did she ditch him?”
“no, she caught you.” a low feminine voice makes all their heads turn to the end of the table. she looks down and pulls the hood off of logan’s head and shoves him forward slightly. “why are you here? you’re better than this!”
logan shrugs, chuckling slightly. “you were being secretive! i was just curious!”
“this is the last time i’m going on a date from the paddocks,” she grunts, stomping her heel into the ground. “go home, you guys! we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
sebastian hisses as the waiter stops behind her, dishes resting on top of the tray in his hands. “we already got some food.”
she narrows her eyes down, locking eyes with max. “you’re here too?”
max nods. “i suggested this,” his eyes go around the table, “team bonding activity.”
“i just wanted to see what would happen,” george admits. he points at max seated opposite him, “he said he wanted to scare off whoever your date is.”
“it’s true, i heard him say it,” lando nods, a small and guilty smile flashes at her. “we were just concerned about you.”
sebastian grabs her wrist gently, shaking her arm. “don’t be mad anymore. come on…”
“and you!” she points a finger at the australian sitting quietly between logan and george. his head snaps up at the yelp, wide and guilty eyes meeting hers. “i told you to stop meddling with my love life!”
“what?” oscar screams back, dropping his menu. “i was dragged here against my will!”
“i don’t believe you!”
“max!” oscar looks at max, then points at the furious girl as he awaits his explanation.
max stares at him for a second too long, and a giggle erupts from his throat. “right! right… we forced him here. he did not want another bruise, he said.”
“good,” she scolds, turning on her heel. “we’re leaving.”
“but we just got here!” lando squeaks. he cowers into his seat when she turns back around to glare at him, giving him flashbacks to a time when his mother would use it on him. “i mean, enjoy your time and don’t get too tired. it’s race day tomorrow.”
oscar doesn’t bother looking at her again. “see you tomorrow, loser.”
“where are you going?” george asks, a mischevious grin on his face to challenge her. “back to the hotel for some fun time?”
“a walk,” she sighs, dropping her head. she leans on the table. “my heels are killing me.”
“oh, i’ve got you,” sebastian mutters, disappearing underneath the table. out of his bag is a pair of doll shoes, the ones that she keeps in the garage when her time in the race car is over. “i saw these lying around aimlessly and thought i should keep them for you before it gets too dirty.”
she glares at him, hesitantly taking the shoes into her hand. “you took these from my room, didn’t you?”
sebastian shrugs. “you don’t wear heels very often, kid.”
“give me recommendations for date places,” logan smiles. “maybe next time i’ll have a girl out here with me. like you with jacob elordi.”
her mood changes back to what it was before: a mixture of irritation and not one of amusement. “i will kill you guys tomorrow. my date is waiting for me outside.”
oscar waves her towards the door. “i trust you’ll text logan and i about this later.”
“hey, i want in!” lando adds on, completely ignoring the girl walking away to the door.
“dude, this is seriously none of our business.”
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taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife
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mammons-lover · 1 month ago
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Prank Gone Pregnant [Happy New Years!]
MC (grinning mischievously at Mammon's camera): Hey guys, welcome back! Today, I’m going to prank my boyfriend by pretending to break up with him. Let’s see how hard he panics. Spoiler: It’s Mammon, so… a lot. Let’s do this.
MC (fake sniffling, eyes cast down): Mammon, sweetie…
Mammon (striding over dramatically, already looking concerned): Yeah, babe? What’s wrong? You okay?
MC (turning their head away to stifle a laugh, voice trembling for effect): I think… it’s time we break—
Mammon (interrupting with wide eyes, completely serious): I’m pregnant.
MC (now genuinely stunned, blinking): Wait. What?
Mammon (doubling down like his life depends on it, hand over his heart): Yeah, you heard me. Pregnant. Bun in the oven. Lil’ Mammon Jr. on the way.
MC (trying not to lose it, but also trying to keep it logical): Mammon, that’s literally not possible. You’re a—
Mammon (jumping to his feet, hands on hips, voice dripping with indignation): Oh, so now you don’t want OUR baby?!
MC (deadpan): You’re male!
Mammon (scoffing like this is the least of their concerns): And I’m also a demon, something ya didn’t even know existed till you landed here! Maybe you need to stop slackin’ in bio class, MC!
MC (completely breaking character, laughing): Oh my god, I love you, babe. And I love how far you’re willing to go to keep me, but—
Mammon (dropping to his knees mid-sentence, clutching at MC’s hands dramatically): Please don’t leave me! I’ll DIE! I’ll do anything! Beg, grovel, get a second job, whatever you want!
MC (still giggling): Mammon! Let me finish! I was gonna say it’s a prank!
Mammon (pausing, looking betrayed): A PRANK?! You got me cryin’ over here for a PRANK?!
MC (trying to hold in laughter, patting his shoulder): I’m sorry, but once you hit me with the ‘I’m pregnant’, I had to see this through!
Mammon (standing dramatically, wiping his tears): Well, guess what? You’re not sleepin’ in my bed tonight. And we’re OVER.
MC (mock-pouting): Aw, c’mon, Mammon, don’t be like that—
Mammon (cutting them off immediately, arms crossed but already relenting): No, wait, I take it back. We ain’t over. But I’m still mad. You’re on thin ice!
MC (grinning): I’ll make it up to you with snacks?
Mammon (grumbling, but already caving): …Fine. But only ‘cause I’m pregnant and I need to eat for two!
(Enter Leviathan, standing nearby with headphones half-off, looking completely bewildered as he stares after them.)
Leviathan: Wait. WHAT THE FUCK?! Mammon’s PREGNANT?!
Mammon (yelling back over his shoulder): Yeah, Levi! Start plannin’ the baby shower!
Leviathan (suddenly panicking, pacing): Oh my daivolo, I’m gonna be an uncle! We need to babyproof the house! There’s sharp corners everywhere, and that stair railing is a death trap! Do demons even have car seats?! Someone get me a checklist—WHERE’S THE CHECKLIST?!
{Haven’t posted any fics lately? Uhh… do we even call these fics? 🤔 Who knows! Anyway, I seriously miss making them, but college is not what I expected (first semester, woo-hoo! 🥲) and, uh… I'm definitely failing three classes. BUT!! I’ve figured out how to balance college and life, so next semester is gonna be great!. I miss writing, though, so you better believe more is coming soon! Stay tuned, besties!}
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moonstruckme · 4 months ago
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remus x touch starved! reader ❤
i want him to hug me so badly 😭
<3
Me toooooooo! Unsure if this was a request but thanks for sending and potentially for requesting haha <3
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 707 words
Remus’ foot is touching yours. It’s incidental, thoughtless. You’re sitting on opposite sides of the couch, facing each other as you both read your books, only you’re not reading anymore because all of your attention has been stolen by the way your boyfriend’s foot is lightly pressing yours into the back cushion. The slightness of the contact, the smallness of it, it isn’t nearly enough, and yet you don’t think you could take any more. 
The other side of the couch seems a thousand miles away. 
“You alright?” Remus asks. You look up to find him studying you over the top of his book. 
“Mhm. Why?” 
“You just seem like you might be cold.” You look at him bemusedly, and he nods to the blanket around your shoulders. “You’ve wrapped yourself up fairly tightly there.” 
You look down. You’re holding the blanket closed with a near vice-like grip, cocooning yourself in warm snugness. 
“Oh.” You ease your grasp on it. “Sorry, I didn’t even notice.” 
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Remus replies easily, sitting forward and clasping a hand around your ankle. “Should I go turn the heater up?” 
Every nerve in your being has directed its attention to your ankle, your boyfriend’s fingers braceleting it loosely, casually. One finger moving slowly up and down as though to placate you. Your chest aches terribly. 
Some of it must show on your face, because Remus frowns. “What is it?” 
“What?” 
“You look upset.” He leans forward, his touch coasting up to your knee. His frown deepens. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?” 
“Nothing.” You close your eyes, feeling silly. Shake your head. “Sorry, nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.” 
“Are you sure?” 
“It’s really stupid.” 
Remus shushes you admonishingly. “I doubt that. Will you tell me?” 
“It’s just…” You push out a breath, not quite able to look at him. “It is, it’s silly. I feel like I miss you, but you’re right here.” 
Remus gives you a contemplative look, his lips downturnt. You almost want to laugh just so he’ll take you less seriously. You feel far too exposed. 
“That doesn’t sound silly,” he says after a moment. “I think…I know what you mean, sometimes. Maybe there’s something we’re missing.” 
“Like what?” you ask helplessly. 
He considers you. “Could we have a hug?”  
Now you do laugh. “Yeah,” you say, though you don’t move. “Of course, whenever you want.” 
“Whenever you want, too,” Remus reminds you. He takes the initiative, setting his book down and moving across the couch toward you. 
His arms come around you almost tentatively, one hand moving across your back while the other settles itself between your shoulder blades. You give a little shiver at the contact, and he strengthens his hold, your own fingers bunching in the material of his jumper. That ache in your chest begins to feel like a sort of fracturing. 
“I might cry,” you warn him wobbily. “Don’t worry about it.” 
Remus’ surprised chuckle jostles the first couple of tears out of you. “Oh, sweetheart.” He palms the back of your head. “I’ll try not to, but are you sure you’re alright?” 
“Yeah.” You clutch him tightly. “This helps.” 
“Okay,” he says softly. 
Remus lets you cry it out. He holds you, shuffles closer on the couch, presses his lips to the top of your head. When you’re done and you pull away to press a salty kiss to the corner of his lips, he picks up your fallen blanket and draws it around the both of you. 
Your legs are all tangled together, bent knees and coarse hairs and the jut of an ankle bone into your hip. Remus looks into your eyes with a steady fondness. 
“Do you feel any better?” he asks. 
“Yeah,” you answer honestly. “Sorry, thank you.” 
“Why are you always sorry?” There’s a bit of teasing in his voice now, softened by the brush of his lips against your nose. “You can always ask for hugs, you know. You should.” 
“Okay.” 
“I want you to.” 
“Okay.” Your face feels warm, but you feel a thousand times lighter. “I will.” 
“Good.” He gives you a little smile. “Can we do another now?” 
“Remus,” you smile back at him, “I’m really fine.” 
“I believe you. This one’s for me.”
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dollishmehrayan · 2 months ago
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# BATBOYS WITH A SUNSHINE!READER ── .✦ ( basically batboys with a optimistic reader )
a/n: this was requested by anon (here) but anywayss i think I’m gonna do the world tour thing after my winter inspired fics/hcs end on like February 28th! (Dw i’ll still do the world tour thingy in between) but yahh also I desperately need writer mutals + mutals I mssg daily like I’m a very kind person idm if you dm me at like 4 AM, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)
© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )
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DICK GRAYSON ── .✦
Absolutely smitten. Your optimism is like a magnet for Dick, who thrives on positivity.
He calls you his “little ray of sunshine” (even if you roll your eyes at the nickname).
If he’s feeling down, your relentless optimism is a game changer. “How do you do that? How do you make the world seem so… bright all the time?”
Constantly teases you, especially if you’re being overly cheerful during random moments. “Are you seriously smiling right now? We’re getting ready to head to bed!”
But secretly, he loves it. Your energy balances his occasional doubts && insecurities. (he lovesss positive people who live in their own world)
Dick starts picking up on your habits leaving little notes of encouragement, giving random compliments to strangers and realizes how much better it makes his day.
JASON TODD ── .✦
At first, he’s skeptical. He’s not used to someone so genuinely cheerful, and he might think you’re putting on an act.
“How are you this happy all the time? What’s your secret? Coffee? Dark magic?”, “I just like seeing the world differently, I’m a poet in my mind.”
But over time, he warms up to your positivity and even craves it (to a point he gets sad if you aren’t around for more than 4 hours). You’re the light that cuts through his darker moments and more sulking personality.
“I don’t know how you do it, but you make me feel like the world’s not completely screwed.”, “what did you say?-“, “Nothing go back to sleep.”
He pretends to be annoyed when you try to cheer him up after a rough day, but he secretly loves when you coax a laugh out of him.
Jason starts jokingly calling you his “emotional support sunshine.” He’ll tell Roy, “Yeah, they’re like my personal antidepressant.”
Will protect your positivity at all costs. If anyone tries to dim your light, they’ll have to deal with him.
TIM DRAKE ── .✦
Finds your optimism so refreshing. Tim can be a little too caught up in stress and overthinking, so your energy is like a breath of fresh air.
He’s constantly asking, “How are you so happy all the time? Teach me your ways.”
If you leave him little notes of encouragement, he’ll treasure them forever. He has a drawer full of them and pulls one out whenever he’s having a bad day.
Sometimes, your cheerfulness makes him feel a little guilty. “You’re so good, and here I am being a grump.” But you always remind him it’s okay to have bad days.
Tim loves how you bring optimism even to his most chaotic moments. “Yeah, sure, we’re being late, but hey, at least it’s not raining, right?”
He’d be a little overwhelmed by your energy at times, but he admires you deeply for seeing the good in everything.
DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦
Damian does not know what to do with you at first. Your cheerfulness is a complete mystery to him.
“Why are you smiling? We are surrounded by incompetence.”
He pretends to be annoyed, but deep down, he finds your positivity oddly comforting.
Over time, he starts looking forward to your optimistic take on things. “Yes, fine, maybe there is a silver lining. Stop gloating.”
You have a knack for breaking through his tough exterior. If he’s grumpy, you’ll say something so genuinely kind that he can’t help but soften.
Damian secretly loves how you see the good in him, even when he doesn’t see it himself.
He starts to mimic your habits, like giving Alfred small compliments or trying to look on the bright side, but he’ll deny it if you call him out.
BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦
Bruce admires your positivity but doesn’t always understand it. “How do you manage to stay so cheerful in Gotham of all places?”
At first, he worries your optimism will make you naive, but he quickly realizes it’s your strength.
Your energy is a stark contrast to his brooding nature, and he starts leaning on it more than he cares to admit.
When he’s stuck in his head or doubting himself, you always know what to say to pull him out of it.
“You make it sound so simple,” he says after you give him one of your pep talks. But he smiles because somehow, you do make it simple.
You bring a sense of warmth and nostalgia into the Wayne Manor. Bruce finds himself more relaxed when you’re around, even in the middle of chaos.
He’ll never admit it to the others, but your optimism is one of his favorite things about you.
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pucksandpower · 10 months ago
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Smooth-Talker
Lando Norris x press officer!Reader
Summary: in which Lando has a pick up line for every occasion
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“Did it hurt?” Lando asks, leaning casually against the wall outside the McLaren garage.
You glance up from your clipboard, raising an eyebrow. “Did what hurt?”
“When you fell from heaven,” Lando says with a cheeky grin.
You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. As one of McLaren’s press officers, you’re used to Lando’s constant stream of corny pick up lines and good-natured flirting.
“You know, I think that line was old even when my grandpa used it.”
Lando clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch, straight to the heart!”
You laugh and continue reviewing the schedule for the race weekend. Lando falls into step beside you as you start walking towards the paddock.
“But seriously,” Lando says, “You should be arrested.”
You glance over at him. “Oh? And why’s that?”
“For stealing my heart,” Lando says with a wink.
“Mhm, nice try,” you reply dryly, though you feel your cheeks flush slightly.
“Hey, are you religious?” Lando asks.
You raise an eyebrow. “Not particularly, why?”
“Cause you’re the answer to all my prayers,” Lando says earnestly.
You bite your lip to hide your smile. “That one was pretty good, not gonna lie.”
Lando pumps his fist triumphantly. “Yes! I knew you’d like that one.”
You reach the motorhome and pause, checking your watch. “Okay Casanova, I’ve got to prep for the press conference.”
“Before you go, quick question,” Lando says, gently catching your arm. “Do you have a map?”
You frown in confusion. “A map? What for?”
“Because I keep getting lost in your eyes,” Lando says softly, gazing at you.
You feel your heart skip a beat as you meet his own warm eyes. You open your mouth but no witty comeback comes out.
Lando grins and releases your arm. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.” He winks and saunters off towards the hospitality tent.
You watch him go, butterflies swirling in your stomach. You’ve always thought Lando was cute, with his curly hair and infectious smile that lights up any room. But since joining McLaren, your feelings have slowly deepened into something more. And based on his incessant flirting, you’re starting to think maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way.
Shaking your head, you refocus on the task at hand — prepping talking points for the upcoming press conference. Still, you can’t stop thinking about Lando and the way he always seems to make you blush and smile, even with his cheesy pick up lines.
Over the course of the race weekend, Lando continues his campaign of corny pick up lines and flirtatious banter. Between FP3 and qualifying, he sidles up next to you in the garage.
“You know what you would look really beautiful in?” He asks.
You glance over at him. “Hmm?”
“My arms,” Lando says with a cheeky wink.
You bite your lip, feeling your cheeks flush. “Lando, I’m trying to work here.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Lando says, though he’s clearly not sorry at all based on his impish grin.
Following qualifying, Lando scrambles out of his car after setting the fastest lap. He makes a beeline over to you through the celebrating crowd of papaya.
“Do you have a Band-Aid?” He asks urgently.
You frown, instantly concerned. “Are you bleeding? What happened?”
“No no, I’m fine,” Lando assures you. “I just scraped my knee falling for you,” he says with a roguish smile.
You cover your face with your hands to hide your blush. “Oh my god, Lando, that was terrible!” You try to look disapproving, but end up laughing.
“Worth it to see you smile,” Lando says warmly before darting off again.
On race day, you’re feeling anxious. As you pace around the paddock, you literally run into Lando.
“Whoa there!” Lando says, catching you by the shoulders. Concern flickers across his face. “You okay?”
You nod, acutely aware of his hands still resting on your shoulders. “Yeah, just nervous I guess.”
Lando rubs your arms reassuringly. “We’re gonna do great. And you know what else is great?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Hmm?”
“The view,” Lando says, gaze locked on you. “Pretty spectacular from where I’m standing.”
You duck your head, heart pounding. When you look back up, Lando is watching you closely. He seems to be debating saying something else. After a moment, he just squeezes your shoulder gently. “We’ve got this,” he says sincerely, before heading off to get ready for the race.
You take a deep breath, feeling bolstered by Lando’s encouragement and flirtatious comment.
The race gets underway and immediately descends into chaos. Multiple collisions on the first lap bring out the safety car. You watch anxiously from the garage as the pack circulates behind the safety car for several laps while the debris is cleared.
Finally the message comes across the radio - the race is going green again on the next lap. You glance at the screens and see Lando lining up in P3 for the restart. You cross your fingers and silently will him to have a clean restart.
The pack accelerates for the restart and manages to get through the first few corners without incident. Over the next 20 laps, Lando battles fiercely to maintain his podium position. Other drivers try to challenge him but he holds strong in P3.
With 10 laps to go, you’re on the edge of your seat watching Lando defend P3 with everything he’s got. Suddenly over the radio you hear Lando’s frustrated voice. “Something’s wrong with the car, it’s down on power.”
Your heart sinks as you listen to Lando’s increasingly concerned radio calls about the lack of power. He’s slowly losing positions as the laps tick down. By the last lap, he’s fallen from 3rd to 7th from the sudden power loss.
As Lando’s car limps across the finish line, you hurry down to meet him. He pulls off his helmet and balaclava, looking weary and disappointed.
“Lando, are you okay? What happened out there?” You ask worriedly.
“I’m fine. The car is just a bit banged up,” Lando says with a tired smile. “Not sure what happened with the engine yet though.”
You hesitate, then wrap Lando in a tight hug. “I’m glad you’re okay,” you murmur.
Lando seems surprised but hugs you back firmly. For a long moment, you stand there just holding each other, the sounds of the paddock fading away.
Finally you step back, smiling shyly up at Lando. “So, P7. Could’ve been worse I guess, considering the issues you had.”
Lando nods, scrubbing a hand through his wild curls. “Yeah, could’ve been much worse. I’ll take the points.” He smiles ruefully. “Not quite the podium I was hoping for to impress you though.”
You bite your lip. “Lando ...”
Lando rushes to fill the silence. “You know what’s on the podium of my heart?”
You sigh, though you feel your pulse quicken. “What?”
“You,” Lando says softly, gazing at you with open affection.
You stare at him, heart thumping wildly. Before you can overthink it, you grab his race suit and pull him in for a kiss. Lando makes a surprised sound before wrapping his arms around you and kissing you deeply. For a blissful moment, everything else fades away and it’s just the two of you.
When you finally break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Lando has a dazed, elated look on his face. “Wow … so does this mean all my cheesy pick up lines finally worked?”
You laugh and smack his chest playfully. “I don’t know if I’d say they worked … but they did make it very clear someone has a crush on me.”
You smile up at Lando, enjoying the faint blush on his cheeks.
Lando grins. “Maybe just a small one,” he teases. His expression turns more serious. “I really care about you, Y/N. And I’d love to take you on a proper date, if you’d like?”
Your heart swells and you nod. “I’d really like that.”
Lando’s answering smile is bright enough to outshine the sun. He squeezes you in another quick hug. “I better go debrief about the race. But I’ll come find you after?”
You nod, giddy butterflies taking flight in your stomach. “It’s a date,” you say with a smile.
Lando heads off looking like he just won the championship, with a spring in his step and grin on his face. You brush your fingers over your still-tingling lips, scarcely able to believe that really just happened.
After Lando finishes his lengthy post-race debrief, he finds you packing up for the day in the paddock. “You ready?” He asks, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.
You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Ready!”
You head out of the paddock hand-in-hand, both still riding the high of finally admitting your feelings for each other.
“Sooo, what exactly did you have in mind for this date?” You ask Lando curiously.
Lando grins. “Well first, how do you feel about Ferris wheels?”
You smile slowly. “I think Ferris wheels have potential to be very romantic.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Lando says with a wink.
You spend the evening strolling around the nearby funfair, enjoying the lights and sounds. Lando wins you an oversized stuffed teddy bear playing carnival games. You share candy floss and corndogs while taking in the sights.
Finally, you hop in line for the Ferris wheel. When it’s your turn, you settle into the seat across from Lando. As the wheel lifts you into the night sky, you take in the sprawling city views.
Lando slides closer and slips his hand into yours. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?”
You smile, loving how he still seems nervous even after kissing you earlier. “Smooth line, but I’ll allow it,” you tease gently.
Your Ferris wheel carriage reaches the top and pauses, giving you a panoramic view of the city at night. The lights twinkle like stars around you.
It’s magical.
Lando’s arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you closer. Your heart races as you turn towards him. His eyes reflect the dazzling lights as he gazes at you. He brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch igniting sparks along your skin.
As he leans in, you let your eyes flutter shut. His lips meet yours and the rest of the world fades away. Up here above the world, wrapped in Lando’s arms, you feel like you’re flying.
By the end of the night, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Lando walks you to your hotel room, fingers intertwined, reluctance slowing your steps.
Outside your door, you turn to face Lando. “Thank you for tonight, it was perfect.”
Lando smiles, tracing patterns on your palm with his thumb. “So I did alright for a first date then?”
You laugh. “You far exceeded expectations.” Your smile softens. “I’m really happy.”
“Me too,” Lando says, eyes shining. He takes a deep breath, looking uncharacteristically nervous again. “So, I was wondering … and feel free to say no obviously! But, um, I have two tickets to the Arctic Monkeys concert next weekend and was hoping maybe you’d want to ...” he trails off, biting his lip anxiously.
Your smile widens and you squeeze his hand. “I’d love to be your date to the concert.”
The answering grin that lights up Lando’s face is breathtaking. He punches the air, looking adorably excited. “Yes! This is going to be epic.”
You giggle at his antics. “Well this was a really fun first date. I can’t wait to see what other surprises you have planned.”
You lean in and kiss Lando softly. As you pull back, Lando clears his throat.
“Y/N, can I tell you something without you getting mad?”
You raise an eyebrow curiously. “Umm sure, I guess?”
Lando winces slightly. “I was wondering if you could give me directions ...”
You look confused. “Directions? To where?”
“To your heart,” Lando shoots you a cheesy grin.
You stare at him for a beat, then burst into laughter. “Oh my god, Lando, that was so corny!”
Lando just smiles unrepentantly. “Maybe, but did it work?”
You continue giggling and shake your head. “I don’t know why I find your cheesy lines so charming, but I do.”
You lean in and give him one more quick kiss. “Goodnight, Lando. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Lando’s eyes shine happily. “Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he says, squeezing your hand before slowly backing away towards the elevator.
You watch him walk down the hallway, giddy butterflies still fluttering away in your chest.
You have a feeling this is the start of something special. A lifetime of cheesy pick up lines sounds pretty damn perfect.
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