#but a person has a work shift changed last minute

[obsesssedblerd]

Shut me up

“No, no, please, you don’t understand—we need to have a room with two beds instead of one.” 

From the middle of the bed, Satoru scoffs at the sound of your desperate pleas to the receptionist over the phone. You pace back and forth, groaning when you’re told that it was the last room. “I know that we booked last minute, but— Oh…. this is the only room available? …I see. Goodnight.” 

When you hang up, Satoru doesn’t stop his laugh, and the sound of it immensely amplifies your frustration. “You’re so pissed off,” he says as you cross your arms and glare at him. “It’s hilarious. Well, princess, looks like we’re here for the night. Get comfortable.” 

“Hell no,” you say, reaching into your bag to grab your phone. “I’m gonna ask Yaga for another place. There has to be another inn that’s close to the curse we’re tracking, and has two beds.” 

Satoru gets up from the bed and walks over to you, gently plucking your phone out of your hands and placing it on the dresser. “Yaga is asleep right now, and he worked his ass off to get this place for us at the very last minute.”

Good point. “Fine, I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

“Quit being ridiculous.” The asshole smirks, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “So flustered at the idea of sharing a bed with me. We’re just sleeping. You’re not thinking about anything dirty, are you?” 

“Huh?! No,” you hiss. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

He doesn’t stop his teasing. “Hm. Sounds like you’re lying.” 

“Fuck you, Satoru,” you say, walking over to your bag and grabbing some clothes comfortable to sleep in. “And I’m not flustered. Just hate the idea of being so close to someone I can’t stand.” You head into the bathroom to shower and change before he can say anything else. “If you snore tonight, I’m kicking you.”

—

You can’t sleep. How could you? The room is quiet, and all you can think about is the man beside you. Speaking of, you hear Satoru shift, and the faint aroma of the expensive body wash he used while showering fills your nose. You hate to think it, but he does smell good. You look at the clock on the nightstand, and sigh quietly. Almost midnight. 

“Are you awake?” Satoru asks, and you pretend that you don’t hear him. 

You feel a poke in your ribs, and you shriek. “What the hell?!” 

“Pfft. Knew you were up.” He chuckles. “Ticklish?” 

“Do you need something?” 

“Nah, I just wanted to bother you.” 

You inhale sharply in an attempt to calm yourself, then turn around to face him. Though the room was mostly dark, you can still see him due to the moonlight shining through the window of the room. He’s lying on his side with his head resting against his arm, which was propped up on his pillow. 

“You’re like a child,” you say flatly as you roll your eyes. 

The corner of his mouth lifts in amusement. “Mhm.” 

“And you talk too much.”

“Tell me more.” 

“Extremely annoying, I can’t stand when you show up to missions late sometimes because you want sugar, and you joke around way too much when we’re supposed to be serious. Yaga, Suguru, and Shoko think that, too.”

He chuckles again, and you ignore the way your stomach flutters at the sound of it. “Aw, come on. You tell me that almost everyday. Give me something new.” 

“And give you that satisfaction? Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’ as you turn back around to face the wall. “I think you’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever worked with,” you conclude. 

“Well, you know what I think?” He asks, and you hum in question. You hear the bed creak as he moves, and your heart begins to pound when you sense him directly behind you. If you were to shift back even just a tiny bit, your back would be against his chest. 

“I think you’re full of shit,” he says near your ear, his voice dropping an octave lower. You feel his hand gently rest on your shoulder. 

“How so?” You whisper.

His hand begins to slowly slide down your arm, goosebumps rising on your skin. “You think I’m the most ridiculous person you’ve ever worked with, but you keep working with me,” he purrs, his breath fanning the shell of your ear. “At any moment, you can tell Yaga to quit having us do missions together, but you don’t. I always end up seeing you even though you say you hate looking at me.”

You feel his hand softly drift across your hip, then rest there, his fingers lightly playing with the hem of your shirt. Then, they slip underneath, drawing light, teasing patterns on your skin. Your breath hitches. 

You feel warm. 

“Saw how you looked at me when I got out of the shower earlier,” he says, and your stomach twists. Of course he did. Nothing ever gets past Satoru Gojo. “You were practically drooling while watching me put a shirt on.” 

“I-” You clear your throat. “I wasn’t.”

“You’re such a liar.” 

His lips press a feather-light kiss to your neck—on a spot where you’re very sensitive, and you gasp, but instinctively tilt your head to give him a bit more access. When you catch yourself, you straighten, and Satoru only scoffs. “See? It’s obvious.” 

“...What’s obvious?” 

“You want me.” 

You turn around again, ready to tell him that this was the dumbest thing you’ve heard him say all night, but he puts a finger to your lips, effectively stopping your words before you can get them out. “You want me,” he says again, “but you don’t know how to deal with that. So, you pretend that you hate me when you and I both know that it’s not true.” He then smiles again, his eyes dark with want. “But I see right through it. You’re not subtle. Anyway, you have a choice. You can either continue with your lying, or you can actually do something about it.” 

It takes a lot out of you to keep your hands out of the way so you don’t strangle him and then pull him closer. “Something like what?” You ask.

“You think I talk too much.” He leans closer to you; your faces nearly touching. You swallow once, his eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you do. Then his smile grows, inviting—no, daring you to make a move. 

“So shut me up.”

[solarmorrigan]

Eddie doesn’t like it when Steve is upset. He just wants that on record. He would prefer it if Steve could feel happy and safe and content all the time.

But–

A sad Steve Harrington is a cuddly Steve Harrington, and Eddie is absolutely weak for that shit.

There’s nothing quite like the days when Steve will come home from a shitty shift at work and immediately sit down with Eddie on the couch and curl into his side, never even bothering to change out of his work clothes. Or the days when Steve has to talk to his parents on the phone, and afterwards he’ll come find Eddie and pull him into a hug that may last minutes or hours while Steve presses his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck and loses himself there.

Or nights like tonight, when Steve comes to bed in an old pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt he’s stolen form Eddie’s side of the dresser and lays down more in the middle of the bed than on his own side, his head practically on Eddie’s pillow.

He’s asking without really asking, but Eddie will never, ever deny him.

He’s quick to roll onto his side, facing Steve and prodding him until he rolls over, too, facing away and allowing himself to be scooted back across the mattress. Eddie gets an arm around his waist and pulls him close, until he’s practically molded to Eddie’s front, chest to back, hips to hips, Eddie’s knees tucked into the bend of Steve’s.

It isn’t that Steve isn’t normally a touchy sort of person; he is. He thrives on physical affection, and Eddie loves to be the one to provide him with it. But there’s something different about it when Steve gets like this, like it isn’t just a want – it’s a need.

He buries himself in Eddie’s presence, curling in close like he can hide away inside of him, like Eddie can keep the world at bay – like Eddie can protect him.

And hell if that isn’t a heady feeling. The thought that Steve, so strong and sure of himself, lets himself be soft around Eddie, will let his armor fall away and let himself be cared for; Eddie can’t say he doesn’t cherish the privilege.

Who protects the protector? Eddie does.

And he takes his responsibilities very seriously, thank you.

He presses a kiss to the back of Steve’s neck, stroking his thumb against his ribs over the soft fabric of the pilfered t-shirt. He can feel Steve’s chest rise and fall with a sigh.

���Bad day?” Eddie asks softly.

Sometimes Steve wants to talk about it. Sometimes he doesn’t. Eddie always gives him the chance, either way.

Steve shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. Nothing happened, I just feel… bad.”

He sounds defeated, and Eddie won’t have that.

“That’s fine. You don’t have to know.” He presses another soft kiss to the nape of Steve’s neck. “I’ll make it better.”

“Yeah.” Under the blankets, Steve’s hand finds Eddie’s where it’s draped over his waist and threads their fingers together, squeezing gently. “I know you will.”

[Prompt: Spooning]

[hoshigray]

Just want to start and say hiiiii I love the work you put out and I can't get over how amazing they are. Since you said your inbox is open I was thinking about Life Guard Choso and a little lips to lips action by the pool side at night. Include anything else you see fit I don't mind☺️.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg tyyyy !! and yippee, a choso request :DD haven't written for him in a long while

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: lifeguard! Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing; making out - sexual acts in a public place; hotel pool room - breast fondling + sucking - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! + f! receiving) - praising - implied v + p insertion (ends with cowgirl) - implied unprotected sex (psa: don't be silly; wrap the willy) - cameo: Nobara (best friend) - Choso having a lil crush on reader, and lowkey being horny on the job, lawl - reader lowkey being flirty and taking the lead role.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

“—Khhh, ohooo, ohhhmyGod, Chosoooo, your tongue feels so good!”

“Hoooohh, Ch’soooo, right there! Keep scraping me right there…!”

As lifeguarding night shifts go, last night’s had to be the most bewildering Choso has ever endured.

He sits on the lifeguard chair, observing the indoor pool area inside the hotel where he’s working during spring break.  Luckily, there weren’t many customers coming to use the pool during his shifts — especially the night ones. So, all Choso had to do was watch the hours go by, go to his lunch break, and occasionally come back if he was called in for the night shift. 

What sounds like a manageable task turns out to be otherwise because someone is sitting at the edge of the pool and captures Choso’s observant brown eyes from time to time. It’s you, sitting at the edge with your feet submerged in the water as you converse with your friend — he picks up their name is Nobara – about the joys of your spring break adventures for the past few days. 

Your frequent giggles and sweet voice are difficult for him to ignore, sneaking glances under his cap to see you, shooting himself internally for taking advantage to look at you in your cute one-piece swimsuit that hugged your curves nicely. And then the warmth of his blood swiftly changes to freezing temperature when your eyes land on him, averting his gaze back into the water before him.

The ripples of the water have him thinking back on the night shift last night, his cheeks reddening as he recollects the memories…

It was a lonely shift as Choso was the only person in the indoor pool area. It wasn’t until the hour touched two hours behind midnight when the door opened and came you. As someone who’s been lowkey crushing on you for the past few days, this immediately became the worst-case scenario for the young lifeguard, forced to gawk and examine your graceful swimming and two-piece figure. 

He’s been doing that for a solid fifteen minutes, suffering in silence while his eyes scan the curves of your thighs and legs and follow the droplets of water trickle down to your cleavage. Eyeing you with such indecency, what an inappropriate thing as a lifeguard.

And it comes back to bite him on the ass when you walk out of the pool and approach him to his chair, startling the pecan brown-haired hotel worker. “Hey there,” you say so charmingly, practically inviting him with just the greeting. “I can’t help but think you’re lonely here just watching me swim…Would you humor me and accompany me? Would feel bad I’m the reason you’re here doing your job at such a late hour…”

Choso knew he should shoot down the offer as he was still on duty. However, judging by how it was nearly an hour and a half from closing the pool and that most of the other hotel workers were gone, a tiny part of him was pinching him to accept the proposal of his mini-crush. It’s just a swim, in the water and out, right…?

That’s what he kept telling himself as he was following and talking with you in the pool; although every time you referred to him by his name, swam circles around his rigid body, or tittered at his words, that statement was demonstrated worthless. The lights from inside the water illuminated your frame lured Choso in with every minute, your eyes sparkling like the broken surface tension of the water.

“Hey, Choso,” God, he couldn’t believe you were calling him by his name; it sounded too dreamlike to be reality. “Have you ever given someone CPR?”

“Uhh, yeah, like once or twice,” he replied while averting his eyes to the other side of the room as if that would help his pinkish blush not be seen by you.

“Really?” You probed, bringing your frame for the water to reach your chin. “You must know the procedure pretty well, then…Hey, let me test you then!”

Huh? “What now?”

“Okay, I’m gonna pretend to drown, and you do whatever lifeguard procedure you do to get me out of the water.” You said it with such a beaming attitude that Choso couldn’t tell if you were serious. They can’t be serious…And then, you took a giant breath before allowing your body to be completely submerged in the water, sinking to the pool floor.

Choso looked to where you were for about five seconds; you two were at around the 4th or 5th feet of the pool — there’s no way you had to be serious. But five seconds turned to ten, and you didn’t exhibit any signs of wanting to breach. It caused his jaw to drop; no shot, they’re actually serious!

With haste, Choso waddles down to your spot and drives himself into the water, taken aback in perplexity when you greeted him with a wave. He then brings a hand under your legs and one to your shoulder, breaching with you in bridal style. He voices his bafflement, “Wh–What was that idea?”

“Hahaha, took you long enough; you’re a pretty terrible lifeguard for taking your sweet time rescuing me!” You jest to him, the comment poking right through Choso’s stature and dignity. 

“I didn’t know you were serious or not…”

“Drowning is always a serious issue,” you bat your eyes at him before poking the mark across his face. It wasn’t until then that Choso realized how close he had you, your face two inches away from his, and the top of your two-piece now in his line of sight for your cleavage to capture his dangerous curiosity. He turns his head to show some modesty he has left, but it’s too late; you saw him. A twinge of your lip forms a pleasant grin, “Well, you know what happens next, right?”

He blinks and brings his face back in your direction. Surely you didn’t mean that, asking the following to make sure, “Wh…What?”

“Mouth-to-mouth, of course!” Oh, this was going way too far, the poor lifeguard holding you frozen still at your goal. “Why, you don’t want to put your lips on me? Or were you sneaking glances at me these past few days for nothing?” Another arrow that shot him down; you knew!? “You’re not quite subtle, you know. Hehe, but I find that kinda cute.” 

Choso tried to explain himself, but what only came out was stammers and squeaks. Your gaze had him internally nervous and exposed, so you had to poke him even more, “So? Are you gonna leave your drowning rescuee’s lips alone or save me?”

He gulped at the phrasing, struggling to find the words to give to you. Not you were giving him a chance because your face was moving closer to his every second he didn’t answer. And when your eyelids come down, Choso hesitantly does as well and brings his lips onto your soft ones. 

The first peck was long, yet sweetly introduced you two together. You snaked your hand up his pecs to his neck, inviting him to kiss you a second time. His restraint dissolved with every sedation of your lips on his, and it vanished wholly when his ears picked up a moan. He becomes more adventurous and chews on your bottom lip, and the whimper you let out ignites something that he’s been dying to contain for this long. 

A hot and steamy kiss that was built up to happen here and now, and Choso relishes having you like this like it’s a dream. You break the kiss with a gasp for air, panting alongside him with a smile. “Well then, do I have to tell you what should happen next, too?”

When Choso silently leads you out of the pool with him, you are pleased that you don’t have to.

“—Khhh, ohooo, ohhhmyGod, Chosoooo, your tongue feels so good!”

Choso moved you to one of the cushioned chaise lounge chairs to lie as he ripped you off your bottoms and greeted your lower half with attention. Being between your legs was far from what he ever imagined; however, with how you tase on his tongue and the wails you’re letting out for him, he can’t find it in himself to stop now. 

He licks your clit with a circle, and you squeak at the motion. “Mmmm…feeling’ good there, Y/n?”

“Ohhh, yesss, oh yessss,” you respond with a hazed expression, letting your euphoric sounds fill the quiet indoor pool room occupied by you two. “Fuuuck, lick me more, please…”

Even your requests to him were dear to his ears, obliging your folds with feverish laps and swirls. Your cries become louder, legs jolting with ever every lave and suck of your leaking fluids. But Choso holds you by the thighs, massage them to relax your body. Damn, you felt so soft to his fingers, wanting to have his hands on you for as long as he can.

You bite your lip when your hand grabs tuffs of his down brunette hair, egging him to give your clitoris more kisses and hurried licks that almost have you choke on your spit. “Oh, myGod—Mmmph! You’re so good at this, Choso…Ahhhh, oh fuck, feels too gooood…!”

Choso lifts his head to lock his chocolate eyes with yours, examining your reaction when he switches his tongue with a forefinger bullying inside your vagina. The insertion has your bold jerk upwards, squirming at the finger that’s scraping the velvety texture of your vaginal walls. He then kisses from your thigh up to your abdomen, sucking on your skin to tease. Once he comes up to your top piece, he uses his free hand to bring it up and finally releases your breasts for his eyes to survey. His mouth doesn’t waste time having a nipple inside, licking on the bud as he gropes the other breast.

“Ahhnn! Hahhh, hehe, you look so hot doing that,” you comment, making the young man sneak a glance at you before he sucks and nibbles on the nipple. His finger inside your cunt goes faster, having you whine when his thumb comes to your clit. Swipes to the delicate button erupt howls from your agape mouth, “Ohhhh, Hoooohh, Ch’soooo, right there! Keep scraping me right there…pleaseee, don’t stop…!”

He withdrew from your nipple with a soft “pop” from his lips, bringing his face inches close to yours. “Gonna cum on my fingers, yeah?” He asks to distract you from the sneaking middle finger that invades between your folds. The two digits work together to reach places you couldn’t, rubbing and scratching your inner walls with tips. 

“Yesss, yesss, I’m gonna cum…! More, more—Oh, Ohooo!” Choso kisses you again, and you happily mewl into his lips as your orgasm climbs up with the pace of his fingers and his thumb pressing and swiping on your clit. Your chasm clamps onto his digits, bringing your hands to his face to keep the kiss going as your climax hits you.

Shocks from your body prompt you to tremble under him, the walls of your slit contract around his fingers, and your hips involuntarily sway to ride out the phases of your clarity. You suck on Choso’s tongue; his groans are music to your ears while your hand travels down to his swim trunks and feels the tent of his groin.

He moans, breaking the kiss to look where your hand is. You chuckle, “It’s time to return the favor. Come on, let’s switch.”

He follows your lead and takes the position you had previously, watching you situate yourself between his legs as you bring his trunks down to have his erection spring out. He panics a little when you gasp aloud while marveling at his limb, “My, what a long thing you were hiding from me…”

Your compliment has the blush on his ears scorch him with unbearable heat, and you keep eye contact while your plump lips place kisses on the sensitive pink tip of his cock. He hitches his breath at the contact, especially at your hand, grasping his length and beginning stroking motions.

Your tongue dances around his glans and presses on the frenulum, nibbling on the rough skin while your free hand goes to his testicles, softly kneading them to provoke moans to leave his lips. “Such cute sounds from such a cute guy; keep making more for me, okay?” He places a hand on your head, a sign that you take initiative to pop his dick into your mouth. 

Bobbing your head up and down, you take in Choso’s shaft inch by inch, the warmth of your mouth doing wonders to his senses. A hand grips the cushion of the tongue chair he’s lying on, and shivers crawl up his spine when you mumble after taking it to the hilt as your voice travels through his body. 

“Mmmm…Nngohh, fuck,” he curses with furrowed brows, biting his lip when sensing your tongue lick the underside of his cock. Fuck, your mouth felt so damn good — it took everything for Choso not to rut into your mouth voluntarily. Your tight throat didn’t make it any better, and the walls enveloping his entire girth had him drooling. 

Puffed cheeks suck on him leisurely, your lips coated from the saliva covering him, the noises so erotic and out of this world. You continue to massage his balls while your mouth occupies him, alternating with your hands to go down and suck on his balls roughly.

Here is where Choso finds it hard to contain himself with every second, his thighs jerking with every sign of pleasure, throwing his head back when his dick is back inside your gummy throat. Hips subtly propel to your mouth to create more friction, and he whimpers as you happily accept him with mumbled wails and restlessly jerk him off. 

“—Kahhnn, nnmgh, shit, Yn,” your name sounds like a dazed slur, the hand purchased on your head eggs you to go faster. He almost bites his tongue when yours teases his urethra for more of his precum, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming…shiiit, ohh…!”

And you give him aid, sucking on his cock harder and bobbing frantically while you use both your hands to pleasure him more. The commotion of his lower half corrupts all of his senses, hanging by a thread to hang on and howl your name out. One last lap and harsh suck on his glans induces a choked groan, and Choso finally ejaculates into your mouth.

With the thirst pump, you instantly take him back inside your throat, drinking every bit of his load exuding from his throbbing member. He thrusts as you suck him, his orgasm shaking his being with every rut and sob. He heaves and pants, your name said in helpless prayers while you suck his soul out. And, God, does he fucking love it so.

You give him mercy and release his shaft, placing more tiny kisses on it while watching Choso’s quaking frame calm down. And when he does, you bring your body off from between his legs. “Thank you for saving me, Choso.” You crawl to place a gentle kiss on his lips with a hum, and then you relish the cute sounds he makes as your wet cunt meets his length. 

“Let me reward you by pampering you more...”

“….—op, don’t stare at him so hard!”

“Is that him?”

Choso snaps back to the present when he hears familiar voices speak — it is you and Nobara he finds that are looking at you from across the poolside. Nobara being the one staring dead at him; your best friend’s eyes feel like daggers piercing Choso’s pale skin. It made him gulp with nervousness.

Then, she cocks her head and leans to speak. “Doesn’t look so bad; don’t know about that mark on his face, though…How long was it, again?”

“Shhh, be quiet!” You slap her arm to silence her, making the mistake of looking at Choso. You two look into each other’s gazes for a few seconds, the warmth of your cheeks creeping up and having you two sever your faces elsewhere. 

Nobara saw the exchange, lifting a brow before asking you, “So, do you want me to give him your number, or would you like to fuck him again before that—Oww!!“ Another slap to her bare shoulder, she winces this time.

“Jesus Christ, shut up!”

@screampied 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are wholeheartedly appreciated ☆ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[bucks-babe]

Let Me Be of Service

Pairing: Husband!Bucky x Pregnant!Wife!reader

Summary: With your growing belly, it gets a lot harder to take care of yourself. Luckily, your husband is always willing to lend a helping hand

Warnings: Fluff, a little smut, reader is heavily preggo, established relationship, Bucky is down bad, Bucky shaves his girl’s cooch and boot, crack fic, embarrassing stories about each other, implied smut at the end, banter, Bucky calls reader Petal and she calls him Duckie

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: A little something something to hold you guys over while I’m working on part 2 of Change My Ways For You. Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however, any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

You hear the clashing of pans in the kitchen followed by your husband’s curse. It brings a smile to your lips, knowing that he is trying to make you breakfast in bed, even though he is probably the worst cook you have ever met. When you first started dating, he made the joke that he was the only person that could start a fire with water. 

You didn’t believe him until he actually did start a fire while boiling water at his first and only attempt to make pasta for the two of you to eat. You still have no idea how he managed to do that, but ever since then it’s either you cook, he ‘helps’ you in the kitchen, which is you giving him the easiest thing to do and hope that he doesn’t blow you up, or you order out.

But ever since you got pregnant, doing everyday tasks has gotten harder. You get out of breath from just standing up. Don’t even start with trying to pick something up off the floor. If it hits the ground, it’s going to stay there until Bucky picks it up if you can’t grip it with your toes. Cooking has become a near impossible task for you. Who knew that carrying a super soldier baby would be so hard? 

Your belly was larger than the average woman’s stomach for how far along you are. It wasn’t just that your belly was big though. It caused so much back pain that it was easier to just lay on your side all day, and your feet ached and pulsed from the shortest walk. 

You felt like a bad wife, not able to help take care of the house, or yourself for that matter. But Bucky was a saint, he doted on you every second of the day. He took his leave of absence as soon as you started grunting while moving around. Bucky loved every minute of it though, albeit he hated seeing you in pain, but every change to your body was incredible to him. He was obsessed with how round you were, how full your breasts are, and the cute little pout that is always on your lips.

So you appreciated Bucky for trying to make you something to eat; although you knew it was going to be disgusting, possibly inedible, you would take it with a smile on your face because he tried and that was something you were grateful for.

You decided to get out of bed, not to take over making breakfast in the fear of burning down your house, of course not, but to watch your man in action. When you shifted, however, it became painfully obvious that you were overdue for a shave. The prickly hairs on your pussy were uncomfortable, making putting your legs together almost painful.

You have no idea when the last time you shaved was. All you knew was that it was when you could still see your feet, and that was a loooonnng time ago. Bucky didn’t seem to mind your body hair. He would still eat you out until you had to roll over from the weight of your belly making it hard to breathe. He never once complained about your public hair and you honestly forgot that you hadn’t shaved in so long, until this moment.

Throwing on Bucky’s henley, grateful that he was so fucking beefy so you could still fit into his shirt, although tight around the belly, and wobbled out to the kitchen. Bucky heard you, your feet heavy on the wood floors. “Petal, you’re going to love this! I made you grilled cheese and guess what?” He spins around, bright smile on his face, a grilled cheese plated in his hands. 

“I have officially made something edible without us having to evacuate the house, AND it’s only slightly burnt.” The early morning sun casts a soft glow on his naked chest. He looked like a Greek god, corded muscles topped with a bit of softness, the result of your cooking and less time with the Avengers. 

“Good job, Duckie. Good thing too because I’m starving. Bug isn’t going to stop kicking my bladder until she gets something to eat.” Crow’s feet bloom around Bucky’s eyes. He falls in love with you harder every day, seeing you carry his baby into the world, keeping her safe in your belly.

Bucky sets the singular grilled cheese at your spot on the table, pulling out the chair for you to sit, strong hands grabbing your waist, making sure you don’t strain yourself too hard. He spins around and gets you a cup of your favorite morning drink and places it in front of you, quickly sitting down opposite you, eagerly waiting for you to take a bite.

“Duckie, aren’t you going to have one, too?” His sweet Petal was too good to him.

“Well, Petal, only one turned out.” He gives you a sheepish smile and you can only giggle at him.

“Do you want half of mine then? I don’t mind sharing.” You were starving your ass off, but you wanted to reward Bucky with something for being so good to you.

He vehemently shakes his head. “Uh, uh, Petal, you and Bug need to eat. I can find something else. Now hurry up and tell me if I meet up to your standards.”

Before you take a bite you reach over the table to grab his right hand, running your fingers over the wedding band there. He couldn’t wear it on his left hand, but you wanted everyone to know that he was yours. “You always exceed my standards, Duck.”

Bucky blushes and gestures for you to have a taste. Your eyes widen as the cheesy snack hits your tongue. “Oh my god, this is actually good!” Bucky leans back in his chair and does a small victory dance, proud of himself for feeding his wife.

His celebration is cut short when he sees you shift in your seat, clearly uncomfortable. “Petal, what’s wrong? Is Bug kicking?” Bucky is by your side in seconds cupping your belly, only to find that Bug isn’t causing a raucous.

“It’s kind of embarrassing.” You look down, away from his prying eyes.

“We have been together for 8 years, Petal. I stood watch while you took a shit on the side of the highway, it can’t be that bad.”

You whip your head around. “Duckie! We don’t talk about that. I told you not to bring that up again. It was one time!” Bucky only laughs and turns his head away.

“Petal, we both know that it was twice and we had to stop by Mcdonalds so you could wash yourself after you wiped with poison ivy.” Bucky was barely containing his laughter, while you were dying of embarrassment. “You know, that was the moment I knew I was going to marry you?”

You scoffed. “When we were stuck on the highway while I popped a squat? That cannot be when you knew you were going to marry me. That is not what you said at the wedding.” 

“Didn’t think that you would appreciate that story being told to all of our friends and family. But your secret is safe with me.”

“Since we are bringing up the past, remember the time you were training with Sam and he hit you in the balls and you pissed yourself. You called me to bring you a new pair of underwear and I made sure no one knew.” You turned your chin up.

“C’mon, Petal, it wasn’t even that much. It was just a dot. And it wasn’t my fault I had a full bladder. Don’t make me bring what happened the other week when you-”

You slapped your hand over his mouth, grabbing him by the back of his head and pulling him close to you. “Don’t. You. Dare. We never mention that again, we forget it ever happened, yeah?”

Bucky moans at your dominance, it never failed to get his cock hard. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, but you have to tell me what’s got you wobbling in your seat. And I know it’s not because my cooking turned you on.”

You took a deep breath before looking into his eyes. “Promise you won’t laugh?” 

“I can’t promise that, Petal, but I won’t judge you.” Of course, Bucky and you always laughed at each other. Never when it was something serious. But you were able to joke around when the other did something embarrassing, but he would never joke about it if you were uncomfortable.

“My pussy hurts.” You squint your eyes, the grumpiest look on your face, and cross your arms.

“Petal, that’s all you had to say. I’m an expert on taking care of my sweet girl. If I lick her bud would that make it better?” You feel your cunt pulse at his words, but the scratching is too annoying to let you get turned on.

“No, Duckie! I mean my fucking hair is too long and it’s poking me and it fucking hurts and I can’t reach to shave because of this huge belly, and it makes me feel like a sasquatch and I just want to feel pretty.” You almost burst into tears, not knowing that you had so many emotions bubbling under the surface, but then again you were pregnant and couldn’t control them.

“Oh, Petal, you are the most gorgeous woman on this planet, shaven or not. And you don’t need to worry about doing anything for yourself, you hear me? If you wanted me to, I would wipe your ass for you.” You sucked your teeth and slapped his chest.

“I’m being serious!”

“And so am I.” 

Without another word, Bucky picks you up like you weigh nothing and heads to your bedroom and sets you down on the soft covers. “Duckie, what are you doing?” He still doesn’t say anything as he walks into the bathroom to get a towel and your conditioner and sets them on the bed. He leaves the room only to come back a minute later with a bowl of water and his razor. “You cannot be serious right now.”

“Oh, Petal, deathly.” He flicks the towel out and lays it on the edge of the bed and sets you there, your feet planted on either side of you and you’re forced to lay back with your belly.

You don’t see what he is up to, but you feel his hot breath fan across your folds and he groans. “Petal, is this making you wet? Your husband between your legs about to service you?” He chuckles as the twitch of your clit. “Fuck, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Makes my cock so fucking hard, could cum in my pants just from eating her.”

“Duckie, don’t lie. I know it doesn’t look pretty. Probably could fucking braid it.” You fight the urge to close your legs. You haven’t had sex in almost three weeks, mainly because your body is so exhausted all the time and you know you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.

“Petal, when have I ever lied to you? You think I would lie straight to my pretty girl’s face? How could I lie right in front of Heaven?” He leans in closer and you hear the deep inhale he takes. “And about that braid comment, I learned how to braid hair in Wakanda so that isn’t a problem for me.”

He gets a giggle out of you. “I can’t fucking believe you. You’re such a dork.” Rather than hear his chuckle, you feel it, his mouth pressed against your cunt, lapping your juices. “Fuck, oh shit, don’t stop.”

“Mmh, so fucking good. Don’t even need to eat breakfast when I have this meal on a fucking platter.” He dives back in, arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place. With his hands occupied with your thighs, you were able to grind against his mouth, urging him to focus on your clit. Bucky was in his own world, the hairs pressing against his face not deterring him in the slightest.

His groan is deep and sends shockwaves up your spine, unable to stop the jerk of your hips. All at once, Bucky lets go of your thighs and turns away to sneeze. With great difficulty, you sit up and stare at him, perplexed. “Duckie, you better not fucking tell me that my pubes make you sneeze or so help me.”

Bucky falls onto his back, clutching his stomach as his laughter rings out in the room. The obvious tent is his pants still there. “I’m sorry, Petal, just tickled my nose is all.” His entire face is red, each word coming out in a wheeze. 

“Duckie, it’s not funny.” Even at your protests, you feel yourself unable to control your laughter. 

“If it’s not funny, then why are you laughing, Petal?” Bucky is finally able to control himself enough to sit up and rest his head on your thigh.

“Because you were laughing. Don’t you dare try and eat me out right now.” You push his forehead away, much to his dismay. “Are you going to shave me or not?” Your pout has him pressing his lips together to stop the giggle from leaving his lips.

“Of course, my hedge.”

“DUCKIE!”

“I’m only joking.” 

You lay back and prop your feet up again, jolting slightly as Bucky runs his hands, dipped in water, over your folds and mound. While slightly more prepared for the conditioner, it still feels foreign to have his hands touching you like this.

“Fuck, Petal, just one more taste.”

“Duckie.”

“Fine.”

He starts with your lips, using one hand to hold them tight, taking extra care not to knick your sensitive skin. “Hey, Duckie?” The only view you have is of the ceiling so you don’t see the absolute concentration on Bucky’s face, tongue poking out, and eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, Petal?”

“Do you think it’s normal that I’m getting turned on by this?” Bucky loved that you were comfortable enough in your relationship to casually talk about random things, knowing that he wouldn’t judge you for them, most of the time he was on the same page as you anyway.

“Probably not, but if it makes you feel any better, I’m solid as a rock right now.” You giggle at his casual tone, almost as if he was asking you how your day was. “Don’t move, I’m performing a delicate operation here.” It only makes you giggle more and Bucky has to pull away, leaning over to the side so you could see his face.

“Okay, I guess I’ll just lay here then.” It was Bucky’s turn to suck his teeth in but doesn’t say anything else.

“Hey, Duckie?” Bucky sighs and begrudgingly answers. “Is that my slick running down my ass or water? I need to know how embarrassed I should be.”

“I could give it a taste and answer you.”

“Ew, no. I probably have little bits of hair everywhere.”

With each stroke of the razor you feel yourself relax more and more. The constant presence of his hands soothing you. Bucky taps your leg to signal that you’re done and picks you up, bending you over the bed. “Duckie, we are not having sex right now.”

“Petal, you know that I am very thorough in everything that I do, and I still have your perfect ass to shave” You groan and bury your face into the covers.

“C’mon, Duck, this is worse than before. I feel so exposed.” Bucky rubs his hand down your spine, his other hand reaching under you to support your belly.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, and I’m going to make my girl feel pretty.” He lands a light slap to your right asscheek and grinds his hips against your cunt once before pulling away.

He works just the same, using one hand to spread you open while carefully removing all your hair. When he’s done he pulls back, one hand cupping each cheek. You huff when he jiggles your ass to his heart’s content, letting him have his reward for taking care of you.

“Duckie! Did you just bite my fucking ass?” 

“Couldn’t help it, Petal, so fucking sexy.” 

You contemplate if you should kick him or kiss him. Your decision is cut short when he rolls you over again, now looking at your face. “Petal, we still have two legs to do and they both lead to my favorite petals.”

Fuck, you were in for it.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: In 30 minutes or less!

Danny is a delivery man.

He got the job after realizing his resume was severely lacking in terms of working experience.

Also when he needed more money for his own purchases. There is a big difference between begging his parents for an allowance and earning his own spending funds.

The thing is, no matter where Danny applied, he was not getting a call back. Jazz warned him that a majority of Amity Park didn't hire them - as she also attempted to get a part-time job when she was his age - because of the Fenton last name.

She swore and hissed, but she couldn't prove that it was the reason they weren't hired. She just heard the talk around the town. They all said they wouldn't want to hire from the lunatic family.

That whenever a Fenton went , something bad quickly followed.

It stung, that not even Nasty Burger wanted him. That placed hired people under sixteen for Pete's sake. But Danny was resourceful. If Amity Park hadn't hired him, then he would just try the other place he had civilianship in.

The Infinite Realms.

Danny figured that if societies existed with the Realms, then they had to have a form of currency. He just needed to find one that used the same one as his world did.

FrostBite was more than happy to point him in the right direction. Since his people were the ones to spend generations attempting to map out the Realms, he had found a part of the ghost zone that Danny could blend into easily.

It was only a thirty minute commute from Danny's family portal. He could easily make that after school.

Thus, Danny flew to the portal location FrostBite told him about and ended up in a place called Central City. He found employment very quickly at Joel's Pizza, and for sixteen dollars a hour he was racing across the city to give some sizzling pizza pies.

. He was given a company scooter, but Danny preferred to fly. No one saw him as he never turned off his invisibly until he arrived at the destination. He got great tips for his speed, and his boss was fun to work for.

His parents are proud that he has a job and is not causing trouble. His friends also have their own jobs so Sam and Tucker have to plan their meet ups now- buts that's just a part of growing up.

The only thing that made his part-time difficult was the ghosts. Not all of them bothered him now a days but a few still did.

Like Young Blood. The brat didn't seem to care that Danny was going to be late to a shift since he had no concept of the importance of adult responsibilities. He was able to text his boss an apology using school as an excuse, but he was still thirty minutes late and sporting a black eye.

Joel stared at him for a long moment, muttered something in Spanish, before handing him five pizza boxes, and told him to take it to the central city police department. Danny was supirse he didn't even lecture him.

When he got to the station, the person in front told him to wait a moment since it was the forensic department that ordered food. He waited a few minutes until a blond man came down the hall, with a cheerful smile.

That smile fell when Danny turned to look at him. There was a brief flash of something dark that crossed his expression before the smile was back ten fold

"Hello," Danny said, standing up. "Order for Barry?

"That's me!" The man grins, holding out a wad of cash "Keep the change."

Wow. A fifty dollar tip!

"Sure thanks!"

"Welcome kid!"

Danny practically skipped away, Barry Watching him climb onto his scooter and slowly blending back into the traffic.

He turned to look at Officer Dawn "Is it just me or was that kid covered in bruises?"

Officer Dawn's mustache twitches with displeasure. "He definitely was. Looked fresh, too. Not only that but he works for Joel Pizza"

"This Joel a trouble maker?"

"The opposite, he was a foster kid. Once he aged out and got his own business, he started hiring teenagers in similar situations. Usually, his staff are all kids who are having a rough time. If things are too bad, he makes reports, but we try to avoid it. Don't want to lose one of the few trustworthy safe spaces for those kids." Officer Dawn's hesitates for a second before he carefully asks."A cop poking around may spook them, but a forensic chemist won't. Do you mind finding out what the delivery kid's deal is for me?"

"I look into it." Barry promises already knowing the Flash is also going to be following the boy just to make sure he safe.

He hates it when kids get hurt. Remind him too much of Wally.

[freakingholland]

“The way to a gal’s heart is through her stomach.” - Jason Todd x fem!reader

A/N: Beep boop another Jason imagine, enjoy cuties <3

Warnings: not proofread, slightly suggestive content, swear words

Summary: Jason Todd is not only a superhero, he’s also a master of tomato soups. (fluff, domestic theme, slightly suggestive content)

Word count: 850 +

If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland

questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here

masterlist (needs a proper update)

my wattpad archive is here

my AO3 archive is here

-

“NOOO, no no no I GOT THIS, SIT DOWN MA’AM” Jay said, waving his hands dramatically as if he was trying to shoo you away from the kitchen.

“Don’t raise your voice at me fucker!” you said snorting with laughter.

“Yes, ma’am BUT SIT DOWN PLEASE-- I GOT THIS LOVE!” Jay tilted his head and waited for your reaction giving you an innocent look.

“PLEASE! I GOT THIS!”

“Okay! Okay I will…” you said with your hands up, slowly turning away from your boyfriend. You were standing in the kitchen. You just got back home from work and were about to start making dinner for the both of you. However, Jason had other plans and was making sure that you wouldn’t lift your finger.

“Soooo, what do we have on the menu chef Todd?” Jason smirked as he saw you folding your arms over your chest and leaning against the counter. He reached for an apron that was hanging near the stove.

His triceps rounded as he moved his hands behind his back to tie it on himself. They were pretty tightly squeezed by a short sleeve of his t-shirt. You were wondering whether he was purposefully flexing just to make you feel a certain way.

“I was thinking of a baked tomato soup. But-- I shall gladly fulfill my significant other’s…” he prolonged.

“-dining desires…as­-- it’s my personal wish to suffice her stomach.” His words made you shake your head with a growing smile. God. This guy’s eloquence is truly admirable. So is his charm. And his warmth despite the hardships that life had thrown at him.

“Sounds good.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

“Sweet. Tomato soup it is.”

“How was work?” he continued.

“Could have been better honestly.  Collins had a problem again and decided to throw a fit at the end of the shift. Called in a meeting last minute just to scream his ass of for 20 minutes-- AS IF we could change anything.”

“Monica was late to pick up her son from preschool because of the asshole.” You continued your rant.

“Yeah, Collins has a knack for ruining everyone’s day,” Jay said, shaking his head as he rinsed his hands.

“It’s like the guy feeds off stress.”

“Exactly! And the worst part is, it’s not just me. Everyone’s been feeling it. EVEN Monica, who’s usually so calm, was on the verge of tears today. It’s just not fair.”

“Did she call you?” He asked.

“She texted me when I was entering our building.”

He shook his head no sympathizing with your work story.

“Ugh, I hate that for her. And for you,” Jay said, turning to face you. “You don’t deserve to deal with that crap every day.”

“Thanks,” you replied with a tired smile. “It’s just frustrating. I mean, we’re all trying our best, but Collins seems to think yelling at us is some sort of solution.”

“Man, I don’t know what to say… asshole’s pissing me off.” He licked his lips.

“And how is Jared doing?” Jay continued wanting to change the topic.

“He’s alright as far as I know.” You bit your lower lip.

“You know what? I actually thought about inviting them for dinner some time.” You said shyly.

Jay, still focused on the cutting board, looked up, noticing the slight hesitation in your tone.

“Why are you shying away like that?” he asked, with curiosity and concern in his voice as he turned to face you, pausing his chopping.

“Well, I wanna know-- if you’d have the energy and will to have guests over on your night off…?”

Jay walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He stepped away from the counters to kiss the top of your head as you were mentally supporting him in his cooking, watching from the tall bar stool.

“We can totally think about it, don’t worry about my energy.”

“I—Well I-- just didn’t want to overwhelm you--, you know? I know how hard you’ve been working lately, and I didn’t want to add more to your plate.”

Jay smiled, his eyes full of that familiar warmth that always made you feel at ease.

“I get it, and I really appreciate you looking out for me like that.”

“But honestly-- having them over might be just what we need. A break from the usual, a chance to relax, catch up with some good friends, and just enjoy each other’s company. It could be a lot of fun.” He continued.

„Plus, it would be a great opportunity to show off my cooking skills.” He said with a cheeky smile plastered across his face.

“Yeeeaah right…”

“Yeah right what?” Jay looked over his shoulder, pretending to be offended.

“’Kay hear me out-- how about we make a deal? If I can whip up the best tomato soup you’ve ever had, you have to admit I’m the better cook.”

“And if it’s-- just, okay?” you teased, biting your lower lip playfully. Jay leaned in closer, his voice deepened.

“Then maybe I’ll have to find another way to prove I’m the best at… handling things.”

“I like your confidence, Todd.”

“And I—like you Y/L/N.”

-

Stay whelmed xx

Tori

[ivymarquis]

Happiness is a Butterfly

It's been literal months since I read @ceilidho's divorce AU and guess what it is still rattling around in my brain because it is just scrumptious.

This is what I vanished to work on lol

Pairing| John Price x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 10.6k Kinks/Content/Warnings| 3rd person reader, Post Divorce John Price x Wife!Reader, Attempting to co parent, John is obnoxiously agreeable until he no longer wants to be, there is the s l i g h t e s t mention where reader is worried John might snap but he doesn't scout's honor, squirting, unprotected PiV, blow job, face sitting, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, reproductive coercion if you squint, baby trapping if you squint, it is a lil dubby because John doesn't do anything behind Reader's back but he steamrolls the fuck out of her into getting what he wants lmao

The words choke in her throat like they don’t want to leave. 

Maybe that’s a higher power giving her just one last out to change her mind- to not say the four words that will upend the lives of everyone in the household.

She can barely bring herself to look at him. 

In the decade they’ve been married his temper has never been something she’s been afraid of, but in that moment it is all she can think about; every headline she’s ever read of a soldier snapping and killing his wife and children floating in her mind like a neon sign flashing danger. 

She’s never feared his temper but she’s also never croaked out the words I want a divorce to him before either. 

Her arms cross over her body as her gaze settles a bit off to the side of him. Everything about her body language is closed off and cagey as he looks up from his desk- no doubt having been mentally preparing for another round of come to bed, love - in a minute darling, almost done only to be caught off guard by the actual request.

He doesn’t answer her as he sits back in his chair, looking at her.

She chooses now to choke out the words because she really doesn’t think she has it in her to say the words with him standing. He’s sitting- still imposing as ever even if he’s always been magnanimous around the house- and she’s on the other side of the room avoiding eye contact.

He stands, still silent as the grave, before walking towards her in slow, measured steps and coming to a halt right in front of her. The ground has become absolutely fascinating as she refuses to meet his gaze.

As his hand raises she imperceptibly starts to shift, but absolutely nothing escapes John’s notice. “Don’t,” he starts before clearing his throat, his tone softer as he speaks again, “Don’t do that. You know me better than that.”

This time she doesn’t move as he goes to cup her face- takes her chin in hand and forces her head up. “Look me in the eye and say it again.”

It takes a moment for her to scrape together her nerves, eyes picking up off the floor to meet his. She’s not sure entirely what she expected but she thinks she assumed there’d be more of a reaction. He’s watching her- thinking- as she stumbles over the words.

Doubt twists in her gut as once again she squeaks out “I want a divorce.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks evenly.

“No! John I’d never-” It’s true; ever since he’d turned her head all those years ago she’s been blind where other men are concerned.

“Okay,” he soothes with his thumb against her cheek and she’s suddenly aware that this is probably not how this conversation should be going. “I believe you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

She’s been agonizing over this for months. She’s not even sure what gauntlet was thrown down to make her say enough is enough and have today be the day. Nothing spectacular has happened.

Maybe that’s reason enough. His job is always just the higher priority. While he always ensures his family is cared for while away, he drops everything for work in a way that simply isn’t reciprocated at home. Even when he’s physically here he spends so much time locked in this damn office he might as well be back at base.

Nothing has changed after begging and pleading and she is tired with a bone weary ache.

Are you sure this is what you want? Echos in her head while he awaits an answer.

“Yes.” No. “I’m so tired of being alone,” she confesses. “I’m tired of constantly having to beg you to be here even when you’re home. If I am going to be by myself raising the boys then I just need to be by myself.”

He doesn’t seem surprised by the words in the slightest. Probably because they’ve been having the same argument for years. This is not the first time she’s been frustrated with his job.

“Okay,” she can’t believe her ears with his easy acceptance. “If this is what you want, then okay.”

She sobs- alone- in their bed like the entire situation isn’t her fault, burying her face in the bedding to stifle herself from the kids. John’s gone.

Everything goes about as smoothly as it can. John doesn’t fight her on anything. With his schedule there’s no point in ironing out a visitation schedule through the courts. They agree to just work it out when they can, given how he can be called away at a moment’s notice.

They’re adults. They can handle this.

Once her nerves settle from the initial shock of actually saying the words to him, and she’s had a few days to think on his reaction, she decides she’s pissed.

The easy acceptance ruffles her feathers in a way she can’t put to words. She gave him a decade of her life, a home, three children- has kept everything running seamlessly while he jumped in and out of their lives to answer the call of duty and he didn’t even try to fight for her.

If he was being sullen or grouchy with her it would be easier to process everything- all the things set into motion that she started.

Perhaps she’s projecting. But he just acts like nothing is amiss as he comes by to pick up the boys or drop them off or just stop by to spend time with them.

She wakes up on the 15th and right on time she is awoken by a ding from her phone.

Perhaps, she thinks, it is a lapse in judgment to kick him out for not being around, given that she’s now cut into what already little time he has to spend with them. Isn’t that the focus of her argument? That it’s too difficult for the boys?

Their boys- three of them, each one a head taller than the last- are understandably devastated and struggling to deal with very big, very complex feelings that result in major meltdowns and fights. They blame her and they’re not wrong.

Then one day, when old habits die hard and she confides in John tearfully one day as he’s returned from his latest deployment to see them, while she can’t say it stops all together she can say there’s a marked improvement when they come back. 

What did he tell them?

Her phone dings on the 1st like it always does every other week and her agitation is palpable.

She doesn’t even need to look at the notification. 

John isn’t missing a beat this entire time and he’s driving her crazy. 

The notification is from the bank, of an entirely too large deposit to an account that only she has access to. John’s name is not on it and he can’t touch anything in it. 

He can however put money in it.

He is as steadfast and agreeable as always while stubborn enough to just bulldoze into getting his way.

She knows she should be grateful. That so many ex husbands abandon their children and former wives in favor of some shiny new girlfriend. That it would be so easy for him to throw her “if I'm going to be by myself then I'm going to be by myself” back in her face. 

Her career had been put on hold with the boys. When everyone was older and in school and didn’t need her so much the plan had been to go back. And then John had kept putting babies in her and the timeline got pushed further back with the subsequent births of their two youngest children. 

It would have been so easy for him to tell her to just figure it out herself, that this is what she wants and she can navigate life on her own just fine. 

Instead he deposits entirely too much money into an account he can’t access. 

She’s not sure why today is different, but she hits her limit and calls him. They’ve never actually spoken about his little transactions.

“You alright, then, love?” She remembers deciding to pick her battles and not harp that she’s not his love anymore. 

“What are you doing?”

There’s a brief pause.

“…I’m on base? About to take my lunch, actually. Maybe you can -“ she cuts him off before he can get any further. 

“I’m not calling to ask about your day and you know it,” she snaps irritably. “I’m asking about the deposit. What are you doing?”

John, once upon a time, used to tease about his spoiled, hot headed wife. She knows she is being the epitome of spoiled and ungrateful but come on- no one is this agreeable about a divorce. She doesn’t trust it. 

“I have no idea what you mean, love.” He assures her good naturedly. 

“You have no idea how several thousands have been deposited into my account?”

She wants to reach through the phone to strangle him when she hears that even tempered laugh of his. 

“I know how the money got deposited, love- I did it myself. I don’t know why you’re questioning my motives. We both know you haven’t worked outside the home in years- you need money to keep everything going.”

“John, it's too much. I know you know how much I spend in a month!”

He sighs. She can picture him sitting at his desk on base. Sprawled out in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation.” He responds evenly. “The plan wasn’t for you to go to work until the youngest one’s in school next year. You’ve been out of the market for years, I can only imagine an employer trying to use that to short change you.”

He lets out a sigh, and she feels something akin to guilt for freaking out on him.

John’s always been the one to make the best out of a shit situation. To try to steady the boat in the storm. Even when his own wife (ex wife) is the one making waves. 

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation,” he repeats. “I just want you to be able to raise the boys comfortably without worrying about making ends meet.”

The something coils tighter in her gut. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he assures her and once again she has to bite back a not your sweetheart anymore. 

“Now,” there’s the slightest shift to his tone and feels herself falling back into old habits again. As keyed in to him as a dog awaiting her master’s command. “What I was going to say earlier- I’m about to take my lunch. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boys. I’d like to see them today.”

She can’t very well tell him no now can she?

The boys are her heart and soul but she sees them for exactly who they are- three rambunctious little spitfires always up to something. Good boys, but curious and mischievous. The curse of having smart children. 

Until they’re on base at least. All three are quiet as church mice, gathered behind their mother and peering at the soldiers from behind her skirt. 

She can’t truly correct the guards at the gate when they greet her as Mrs. Price- she hasn’t changed her name and isn’t sure if she’s going to. 

It’s not hers anymore, but it’s still her boys’ name and things are easier. She’d likely have to retrain herself to respond to her maiden name. 

The boys are hot on her heels until they stumble across John- as soon as he sees them, dropping a knee with open arms the trio are off like a shot as peals of “Daddy!!” fill the air. 

“You can just call me after you’ve finished lunch and I can come get them,” she states amicably, watching John as he wrangles the three of them. The sooner she can get out of here, the better off she’ll be (because God help her, watching him with their oldest two was how she ended up pregnant with the third, and watching him with them now just makes her yearn for something she no longer has any claim to).

Immediately the three boys are protesting, albeit not quite as vocally as they normally would.

“Mummy, no!” “Mum!” “But it’ll be fun!” the trio state their cases to varying degrees.

John shushes the three of them gently to keep them from winding up too much before turning to her. “Come on now, sweetheart, for old time’s sake, hm?”

Their little three stooges voice their approval of that idea, chiming in with various degrees of “Yeah!”

Ultimately it’s the desire to keep her children complacent that has her agreeing. She doesn’t want a scene.

Unfortunately, a (albeit mild) scene is what she ends up having anyway.

She knows (is hopeful, at least) that her oldest doesn’t mean anything by it while they’re waiting for their food and asks “So what time are we going to nana’s later?”

Her eyes snap to him about the same moment as John’s snaps to her, and she’s deliberately trying to avoid his gaze.

Why, oh why, could he not have asked either before or after lunch?

“We’ll probably get ready after we go back home.” she’s careful to keep her tone neutral.

“How fun,” Ah shit, she can hear the suspicion in John’s voice. “Any reason in particular, or just a fun weekend?”

“Just for the night. Mum’s picking us up tomorrow. Right Mum?”

The server chooses that moment to bring their food, which gives her a moment to figure out how the fuck she’s gonna weasle out of this conversation.

“Yes, I’ll come get you after breakfast.”

“Could have called me.”

“That didn’t seem appropriate. They’ll be fine with my mum.” Her gaze drops to her plate, knowing full well if she looks up that his eyes will lock on hers.

“Don’t see what’s inappropriate about me watching my own kids.”

It’s not that she’s happy to squabble with John where the kids have a front row seat, but there is a dark part of her that delights in watching him. He has been obnoxiously agreeable this entire time and the cracks are showing. It makes her feel like she’s dealing with another human being, because she knows she’s got her moments where she loses her mind during all of this and it’s beyond frustrating that he is so dauntless no matter the circumstances in every situation.

“It’s not-” Jesus, does she tell him? What does that conversation look like? “I have plans tonight.”

John is not a stupid man and she can see the moment he realizes she’s not planning a girl’s night out for herself.

That she hadn’t thought it appropriate to ask him to take the kids so she can go on a date with another man.

“I’m watching them,” he asserts before returning to his plate. 

“John-”

“I said I’m watching them,” his tone is softer, but leaves no room for argument. Conversation over.

There’s nothing wrong with her date. He is well mannered and polite, attentive when she speaks. No obvious red flags- he doesn’t dismiss her stories, doesn’t shirk back at the mention of her three children, isn’t rude to the server and isn’t texting on his phone opposed to actually engaging with her. 

There is nothing wrong with him and for an idle moment she pictures what her could have been like had she married a man like him instead of John. The 9-5, the set routine, the security and reliability of knowing that he is coming home at his regular time and he’ll be there for the boys various sports and activities. 

And yet all she can think of is John, who is sitting in their home, watching their children. Of the late night returns from deployment where they’d have their stolen alone time- quiet as church mice so as not to wake the boys who most assuredly would not be going back to sleep if they knew their father was home. 

Of the delighted squeals of their children when they come into the room to wake her for breakfast only to find him in bed like nothing was amiss. 

(And yes there was always the heartbreak that followed him walking out the door, the anxiety between phone calls that would brew until she once again could assess that he is alive and not dying blown to bits on the other side of the world)

There is nothing wrong with her date but he is not John, and that is an obstacle he will never be able to overcome.

She is safely deposited on her doorstep with polite pleasantries. She thinks he knows, has a kind smile and understanding eyes as she carefully tells him I’m sorry, I thought I was ready but I don’t think I am.

Someone will recognize him as a catch but John never let go of the hold on her heart. Someone will want this man but all she wants is John. 

It’s not as late as she thought it would be when she comes home- a fact that John immediately comments on when her eyes land on him while searching for him.

“Well that didn’t last long.” The air feels different from before she left home, and she stands stock still as he rises off the couch and strides towards her.

“I,” she starts and stops, choking on the words. Why the hell did she ever agree to letting him babysit again?

Yes he’s the father of her children and yes she wants him to spend time with them whenever possible but this is just so incredibly awkward for her. 

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again,” she finishes lamely. 

“I would imagine not, if the date ended that quickly. We were always out for hours, weren’t we sweetheart?”

She can’t quite get a read on him but the entire tone of the conversation is… odd. Hell, the entire conversation is odd. 

John is not one of her girlfriends for her to cheekily report back how her date went. He’s her ex husband for God’s sake. 

“We were,” she agrees amicably- mind spinning with memories of the various times they had stumbled into bed early in the morning, or crawled into the backseat of John’s car like horny teenagers or-

One moment her thoughts are full of the various times John had folded her up like a piece of paper, and the next she’s aware that he’s closed the distance between them while she’s distracted.

“Makes me wonder if that was your plan all along,” he ponders out loud. She squeaks in protest, rooted to the ground and not even attempting to put more space between them.

“Was it? Having me home with the kids while you were out with another man?” His tone holds far more warmth than one would expect of a man all but accusing his (ex) wife of being a hotwife. 

John’s hands grip at either side of her hips, thumbs rubbing in affectionate circles. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her own- she can feel the shift in the room. She hasn’t been with anyone since the last time they slept together, and there’s only so much fucking herself can due to take the edge off.

She can’t mimic the weight of a man’s body on top of hers- of his voice rumbling in her ears, the body heat radiating off of him as he coaxes one orgasm after another out of her.

She doesn’t want just a man though, in the broad scope of the term. It’s John. 

He stops stroking at her before making a few deliberate swipes. It dawns on her that he’s feeling at the seam of her lingerie set underneath her dress. 

“What’s this?” He asks, hands roaming and squeezing at her sides- possibly seeing if he can gauge which set is hidden away by feeling how the fabric wraps around her. 

It’s a new one. While she hadn’t been sure about sleeping with her date, the thought of wearing lingerie that at one point had been meant for John felt wrong. 

There’s a part of her willing to admit that at the rate things are going, he’s likely going to be christening this one also by the end of the night. 

“Were you planning on showing this to him?” John’s enjoying torturing her- dangling the man she wasn’t ever all that interested in just to bait her.

“No, I-,” she hadn’t really thought about it. There was no plan. She was going on a date, so she put on lingerie like she always has. 

Like she always did- for him. John would make a game of figuring out which set she had on.

“I just want you,” the truth bubbles out of her throat unbidden. 

John descends on her like a man starved- fingers digging into her hips with a grip that she knows is going to leave bruises later.

“Bed,” she mumbles between kisses. Given how John immediately starts herding her backwards towards the bedroom, he’s clearly on board with this plan. 

Once the door is shut, the pair cross the room before collapsing against the bed. 

Clothes are shed in a hurry, pried off with little regard as they’re shucked to the floor.

“This one looks lovely on you,” John murmurs in praise against her skin as he gropes at the lace adorning her body, dropping to his knees on the side of the bed. 

God has she missed this- missed him. The feeling is clearly mutual from the way he busies himself between her legs, lips peppering kisses across her inner thighs quickly while he makes his way towards the spot she wants him most, the gusset of her thong pulled aside.

Just as his breath is fanning over the core of her he pulls back slightly. Her thigh twitches in frustration, so close to finally having the nirvana of his tongue lapping at her only for him to have to be a tease.

“Has anyone else gotten a taste of this sweet cunt?” He asks, eyes on her with an intensity that has her squirming. 

“No! There hasn’t been- John, I swear I haven’t-“ she protests.

“I believe you,” he assures her. 

She probably should ask if the same could be said for him- for her own sake if nothing else. But she’s already made a slew of questionable decisions that haven’t gone the way she wants, and she errs on the side of not asking questions she doesn’t want an answer to.

Her eyes roll immediately once his mouth is on her. His hands grip at the underside of her thigh, holding them apart to give him unfettered access.

“John,” somehow she can’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that he’s got her back in their bed. Everything is novel and familiar at the same time, and she is overwhelmed by how easy it is to fall back into old habits. 

He pulls away just long enough to speak, “I missed you so much,” before going back to eating her out.

John is a man on a mission, and he is familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to get her where he wants her. He also knows all of her tells- God damn him. No sooner has he dragged her to the precipice of her orgasm does he sit back, content to let her dangle but stopping just shy of letting her finally topple over.

“Wh-why?” She whimpers, lust, anticipation and disappointment curling in her gut.

He’s so gentle with her when he takes her left hand in his own, thumb running over her knuckles in soothing movements.

“Where’s your ring, sweetheart?” his question is a non sequitur if she’s ever heard one, head spinning trying to catch up through the haze of pleasure she’d been drowning in just a moment ago.

“My ring?” She mimics more on reflex than anything else, mind still reeling to catch up.

“Yes, sweetheart, your ring.” He repeats, eyeline following hers as her gaze shifts to the jewelry box sitting on the vanity.

There’s no written standard on how long to keep your ring before getting rid of it, and she hadn’t been sure about it. Figured she could always get rid of it later- when it’s never a question of if she’s making the right decision. Even with the ink dried on the paperwork finalizing their divorce, the ring feels like the final nail in the coffin for their marriage.

So she put it in her jewelry box, where it is safe but out of mind and she could worry about it later.

She never thought for a second that ‘later’ would arrive in the form of her ex husband telling her “Go get it and bring it here.”

It’s a beautiful ring; everything she ever wanted growing up. The cut, the size, the setting- John did a lovely job when he picked it out all those years ago.

Gonna be an officer’s wife, sweetheart he’d told her after she’d accepted his proposal. Gotta look the part.

Surely no one can blame her for not gnashing at the bit to part with it?

She hesitates for a moment before ultimately deciding to just do as she’s told- John didn’t tell her to put it back on. So she holds it pinched between her thumb and pointer.

In an alternate dimension, where she’d gone back with her date and let him charm her out of her new lingerie, there would be some insecurity over her body. Bringing three tiny lives into the world takes its toll in the form of stretch marks and loose skin and some extra weight that just clings to her like a needy toddler- but any time John has seen her naked, he is as moon eyed as he was the first time all those years ago. Like he can’t quite believe his luck and he’s not entirely sure she’s real.

Tonight is no exception. As soon as she’s in arms reach his hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to him.

“We’re going to lay some ground rules, and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress. Am I clear, pet?” Warmth and affection roll off of his tone in waves despite his words. All she can do is nod dumbly.

“This,” John takes the ring from her before sliding it back on her finger,” stays where it belongs. Right here.”

He pulls her even closer- she has to crane her neck to look up at him. “There’s no more dates with other men. That stops tonight.”

Another easy acquiescence. She nods in agreement.

He spins her slowly, facing away from him and then pulling at her hips so she’s sitting on him. She starts to hover, holding herself up until he swats at the side of her ass. “Now is not the time to play with me,” he warns.

She settles, feeling the mattress dip underneath their combined weight. John clearly has a plan in mind as he guides her to spread her legs, a chill running up her spine as the air laps at her wet cunt. His erection presses heavy at her ass, trapped between his body and her own.

His left middle and ring finger tap at her lower lip and she opens her mouth on reflex. John doesn’t even need to tell her to suck, tongue laving over the thick digits automatically, the same way she would his cock.

“I’m not mad,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You tried and tried to tell me, and I didn’t take you seriously, did I?”

She can only assume that this is all rhetorical- that there’s no way he can expect an answer out of her considering she’s gagging on his fingers.

“As soon as you told me you wanted a divorce in my office, I knew what it was. You needed my attention, and I wasn’t listening. I don’t blame you. Hell, I practically forced your hand. So I’m not mad,” he reiterates.

“But you’ve got my full attention now, lovely- I can promise you that.” 

She twists as much as she’s able, watching John out of the corner of her eye while still sucking; her tongue tasting the metal of his ring as it ran along the base of it.

“We,” he pulls his fingers from her mouth, grinning when she chases his hand slightly, “are going to work this out. I love you, and I have no intention of letting another man raise my children.”

It would be easy to say the arousal dripping from her is left from when John’s mouth was on her, but that would be a lie. Him taking her in hand- literally-  and telling her he has no intention of letting her go is definitely doing it for her.

Wet fingers grab at her jaw and turn her head, making her melt into his hold as he kisses her. “There’s my good girl,” his voice is a rumbling timber purring in her ear.

She whines when those two fingers trace down her body- an appreciative squeeze of her breasts trailing to grope at her ass before finally slipping between her legs.

“John,” his name is a whimper against his lips as she wiggles in anticipation.

“So impatient,” he admonishes gently as he works his fingers inside of her.

Warmed by their body heat, his ring isn’t cold against her skin by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it feels like a white hot branding iron everywhere he touches. That tonight is a reclamation as much as a reunion as he crooks his fingers inside of her.

It was easy to ignore the need that burned in her at night. She’d run herself ragged during the day chasing after children and keeping all her ducks in a row. With John gone, it was easy to shove the desire down and ignore it.

But oh now that he has her in his arms, fingers buried in her as he works her closer to her peak? She feels like she’s on fire. Greed burns at her insides, needing more. Nothing short of climbing inside of him would abate the desire roaring in her body.

Her hips cant in short motions, following the movement of his hand eagerly.

As reluctant as she is to stop kissing him, she can feel a crick in her neck starting to form from keeping her head turned for so long.

Her head lulls against his shoulder when his free hand slips under the lace of her bra and grips one nipple between his middle finger and thumb, his pointer finger teasing the hardened nub in a way he knows drives her absolutely insane.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks just a breath too loud, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth as John pinches her nipple just shy of pain in reprimand. “Not too loud,” he reminds her, mollified when she nods in acknowledgement.

He’s got her panting in need in record time, a small part of her suspicious that he’s going to stop her short of her climax again. The anxiety only serves to fuel the fire burning in her gut, giving the final push to tip her over the edge.

Apparently neither trust her ability to be quiet when her climax hits, because John’s hand abandons teasing her breast in favor of also making sure her cries are muffled. The other is soaked as she squirts, twitching and bucking in his hold.

“Need to shove your face in a pillow,” he comments dryly, a shit eating grin on his face as he takes in her blissed out expression.

He knows her inside and out; knows exactly how long she needs to recover before he’s tapping at her side and prompting her up. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

She complies immediately on shaky legs, standing to turn and crawling to the middle of the bed.

John is just as delicious now as he was over a decade ago, and her brain threatens to short circuit watching him crawl over top of her. There’s more grey hairs and fine lines creasing around his eyes, and her heart still thrums in her ribcage like a hummingbird.

She relaxes against the mattress, trusting entirely that John has everything handled. He positions her how he wants, settling between her legs and rubbing the tip of her cock against her wet entrance. 

“Please, John, I can’t wait anymore,” she begs, feeling like she’s about to lose her mind. The edge should be taken off considering John’s rather patiently gotten her off already once, and yet if anything it just makes her more frantic. As much as each swipe of his cock against her swollen clit sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, she’s gagging for him and running out of patience.

“You are a spoiled thing,” he admonishes good naturedly like he hasn’t made a habit of indulging her every whim and desire in the past decade up to and including getting a divorce.

“We might have our problems, sweetheart, but being able to fuck you right was never one of them, was it?” John teases as he lines himself up with her. She shakes her head in agreement. If she’s being truthful, that’s partially what had stayed her hand for as long as she had. The frustration with his work being so all consuming it was like his mistress had been a slow boil for quite some time. For years John would mollify her by fucking her into submission- and she has a sinking suspicion that their youngest was an attempt to get her to let up on the subject.

His generosity in the bedroom stems from equal parts wanting to please, and the pragmatic aspect that he is not a small man, and it’s usually easier for everyone involved if he gets her off before attempting penetration.

It’s like they haven’t missed a day- it takes a few thrusts to get her body to spread for him and then all the blood on John’s body dives south for the wet, warm cunt wrapping around his cock.

“This pretty cunt’s got me like a vice, sweetheart,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her.

“I missed you so much,” she whines into the kiss. “It feels so good.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he grunts against her neck, each clap of his hips against hers earning a whine. “You divine creature- got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

An entire relationship’s worth of orgasms makes it so she doesn’t begrudge him that he’s going to be a quick shot tonight. His earlier statement is correct- if there is one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck her within an inch of her life. He’s proven that time and time again.

If anything, given their time apart, it appeases some of her anxiety- he must not be getting any from anyone else if he’s already this close to finishing.

“Look at me,” he instructs and she complies immediately. One of his hands strokes her face while his other arm braces his weight above her. “Tell me you love me.”

Her answer is immediate. “I do! John, I love you. I love you so much!”

His hips come to a halt against hers as he grunts against her neck in pleasure. “My perfect girl,” he praises, hands stroking at her sides as he comes down from his high.

She’s so caught up in the lust of the situation that it takes a second for reality to come knocking on her door. “Shit! Pull out!” she tells him, trying to scramble out from underneath him.

“What?” In all their years, ‘pull out’ has never been one of the instructions. He complies even as his brows knit in confusion.

“I haven’t been keeping up with my birth control!” Despite John’s easy assurance that he can just stroll in and assert that they are going to work through things (and she does want to)- adding a new baby on top of their mess will not help get shit sorted out.

Once again, his unflappable attitude has its way of driving her absolutely insane. “Bit late for that, innit? You’ve already had 3 of mine, what’s one more at this point?”

“One more at this point is exactly the point!” she tries to reason.

“We did say a girl would be nice,” he reminds her.

“That was before we got a divorce!” she hisses, trying to be mindful of her volume lest she wake their children.

“That’s nothing but paperwork, pet. We can have it sorted by the time you’re due.” John can tell he’s truly gone and wound her up more than he meant with that, immediately shifting gears to try and settle her back down. 

“Okay, too much. I’m sorry. Come here,” he guides her to lay down, which she does albeit with a fair amount of suspicion. 

John wisely chooses not to agitate her further or do anything that could be considered pushing in his luck (like, say, pointing out that despite her protests about another baby, she’s not said a peep about the cum dripping from her).

Instead he draws her up into his arms, sticking his nose firmly in her hair.

For a long moment it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing in the late night.

It catches her off guard when the tears come unbidden. One moment she’s happily lazing in her (ex-turned-hopeful-once-more?) husband’s arms, and the next she’s sobbing uncontrollably.

They’ve been through enough that it shouldn’t embarrass her. For fuck’s sake, she’d vomited all over him during the birth of their second son. But she feels like an exposed livewire sobbing over nothing and without warning.

“What’s wrong?” John mumbles as he wakes half-way, pulling her closer to him and stroking her back to console her.

“I mucked everything up,” she chokes out, burrowing her face against his neck. “I didn’t even want this, I just didn’t know what else to do!”

He shushes her gently, petting at her in an attempt to calm her down. “I meant what I said, pet. I know things have to change, but at the end of the day it’s just papers. We’ll get everything fixed back in its proper place.”

She doesn’t remove herself from the spot on his neck she’s nestling against, but quiets down and eventually they both fall asleep once again.

When she wakes again, she feels far more level headed- although neediness eats away at her. It’s like her body is craving to make up for lost time for the months they’ve been apart.

She can’t help herself as one hand trails down the thick hair dusting his torso, pressing kisses against his neck. Even in his sleep John responds to her touch- pulls at her to be closer to him, huffing as his dick twitches in interest. 

It only takes a quick lick of her palm and a few strokes to have him stiffening in her hand.

The dried spend on the inside of her thighs is enough of a reminder, even if she’s feeling affectionate this morning, that she’s going to have to figure something out for her birth control. 

For the morning at least the answer to that is easy- still working her hand in slow motion up and down on his shaft she kisses a trail down his neck and working her way south.

The movement is enough to have John stirring with a sinful groan in the back of his throat.

“Well good morning, gorgeous,” he greets, voice clouding in sleep in a way that makes her just want to sit on his face.

Humming out an acknowledgement, she continues to work her way down his abdomen. She does give in to the impulse to nip at the base of his happy trail, delighting in how he sucks back away from her teeth only to push at her head immediately after.

“Bad girl,” he admonishes with no true venom in his voice “Keep those teeth to yourself, hm?” he advises with an affectionate swat to her ass.

Rather than crawling down him, she’s got herself angled perpendicular to him. All the better for him to pet her with one hand while the other encourages her to take him in her mouth.

The moan he makes as she bobs her head is sinful, and she presses her thighs together and shifts her hips to get whatever little bit of friction she can- an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by John.

“That pretty pussy of yours needs some attention, doesn’t it sweetheart?” he asks, a warm hand running down her spine and trailing across her ass until he starts to tease her.

She works with a sense of urgency, even with John taking his time playing with her. They should have another hour or so to themselves before the boys wake up, but they’re also no strangers to a mad scramble under the covers with an unplanned interruption.

“Fuck,” he bites out a curse, hips flexing underneath her. That’s all the encouragement she needs to redouble her efforts, the hand not supporting her weight wrapping around him and stroking to help get him there faster. Despite their years together she’d never quite been able to take all of him down her throat.

“Look at me,” and the eye contact is all it takes for her to feel him stiffening beneath her. “Gonna swallow for me, sweetheart? Yeah, that’s my good girl- keep those eyes on- fuck,” he grunts, his climax hitting.

She’s well versed in swallowing his seed as he cums- keeps up the suction even as his orgasm tapers off just to see how long it takes him to grab her by the hair and pry her off of him.

“Sit on my face. And don’t even think about fucking hovering,” John orders and she complies immediately. His teasing while she’d blown him leaves her a horribly needy mess- None of the pent up lust releasing yet, although anticipation has her scrambling back up the bed and straddling his face.

He pulls at her hips, locking a forearm around her like he wants to make sure she isn’t going to change her mind and start teasing him back.

And fuck does that man know exactly where to lick and suck to make her eyes roll. One of her hands gripping the headboard for dear life, the other one buries itself in John’s hair. He takes direction like a champ, following the not-so-subtle cues from her as she pulls him where she wants him.

“Please, please, please,” she babbles breathlessly as he gets her teetering over the edge, only to release his hair in favor of clamping her hand over her mouth as her orgasm washes over her.

Her legs are weak as he guides her back down before getting her on her back and kissing her until she’s breathless. As engrossing as their make out session is, neither one particularly cares that they can taste themself on the other.

Eventually the pair wear themselves out, calming down from their earlier romp and managing to get into the shower and cleaning up.

It’s only after they’ve escaped the pull of their marital bed, as the water washes the lust out of her system that the reality of the situation comes knocking again, insistent.

“I want this to work, John.” She wants to melt at the way his expression softens at her.

“I do too, sweetheart- you have no idea how much.” A sigh escapes her, already fearing that they’re back on their loop that’s been the routine for the past decade. “What’s that for, hm?” he inquires.

“I want this to work, John,” she repeats “but things have to change. I mean it.”

“ I know you do,” he assures her, reaching down to kiss her temple. “I believe you.”

She’s uncertain if her refusal to be mollified is her winding herself into a snit again, or because she’s justified in the knowledge that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

Especially when his palm drops to hover over her belly.

“You can’t try to get me pregnant if you’re not retiring from the field, John,” she asserts. “I can handle the boys, I cannot handle a fourth baby by myself.”

And much like a kind stranger trying to lure a skittish stray dog into their car, John hums in agreement.

Retirement from the military as a whole, she knows, is far too much of an ask. John has spent his entire adult life serving and it will probably take a career ending injury to get him to agree to retire outright. However she’ll happily settle for him promoting high enough that he’s not one of the first people contacted when they need boots on the ground. She just wants her husband home. She’s paid her dues being the sweet housewife raising the kids alone while he plays hero on the other side of the world. He’s beyond capable of climbing the ranks to one that involves less clandestine missions and more paperwork, and it’s absolutely infuriating that he hasn’t.

(She knows it’s not entirely a blind devotion to country and crown and preventing acts of terrorism, and the fact that he enjoys fucking off to who-knows-where at the drop of a hat- never knowing where he’ll be 24 hours from now at any given time, and he doesn’t want to give that up yet. She tries not to think about it too hard though, otherwise she’ll melt down like chernobyl.)

The hot water runs out before John’s refractory period, which is a good thing for her sake because she’s a scatter brained mess right now. The man’s not 20 and she doesn’t begrudge him the time it takes to recuperate, but she’s swinging wildly between being sappy and sentimental and wanting back what she had, and knowing full well she needs to get a grip before she does something stupid like letting John talk her into trying for a girl.

By the time they dry off and dress there are three hungry boys who are in for quite the surprise to see their dad come morning. No doubt there had been a reasonable expectation that John would leave in the middle of the night after they went to bed.

John keeps the boys distracted and out of her hair as she gets their breakfast sorted. 

Before the divorce, the pair of them would go about their separate routines; making their morning caffeinated beverages of choice, idly commenting on the latest news headline, alternating getting things sorted for their children. 

Now John hovers. Like he’s not entirely certain if he wants her out of his sight. He wrangles the boys to their seats as she gets their food, but it’s like one eye is kept trained on her. 

Before the divorce, her children would make their protests- high pitch peals of ew! (The youngest, she suspects, merely imitating his older brothers who get a kick out of their parents' displeased stares) if they witnessed any displays of overt affection. While of course anything where they could see was kept G rated, once the boys thought something was funny they committed to the bit entirely. 

Now, while she’s distracted by John giving a chaste kiss to her temple and running his hands up and down the sides of her arm, she realizes that the boys are as silent as the grave. Three sets of owlish eyes watch them intently before comically making a big show of going back to their breakfast as they realize they’re caught.

“John,” she starts quietly, eyes watching the boys before shifting her attention back to her husba- ex-husband. “We really need to talk about this. Actually talk.” Not just fuck each other silly - she knows they’ll just slip back into old habits. They need ground rules. 

She knows how her husband works. If she can wrangle him into actually agreeing with a discussion, that is workable. John’s got his quirks and idiosyncrasies that she’s learned over the years. He won’t outright lie to her, he won’t go back on his word if he commits to something. But he will push and widdle and chip away at her to keep her compliant and happy enough to get off his dick (usually by putting her on his dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or-

Anyway.)

“We will, sweetheart. Let’s just get through breakfast, hm?”

It is so familiar and yet still so different. The boys are running a mile a minute, eagerly soaking up the additional time with their father (the guilt gnaws at her- knows this could just be a normal morning. Had she either never divorced him, or kept him firmly away. This hemming and hawing that feels inevitable can not be good for the boys).

Screentime is a bit of a hot topic, but they need the boys content and quiet long enough for them to speak without interruptions. 

The eldest is a bit too old for the target demographic for Bluey, but his handheld console is enough to keep him entertained.

She can’t help but feel like her oldest boy and John are conspiring- John firmly telling him “Your mother and I need to have a little talk with no interuptions. You keep an eye on your brothers, got it?” only for the oldest to salute him with a “Yes, sir!” that has John grinning as he herds her towards his office with a hand low on her back.

The click of the door sliding shut is as loud as a gunshot.

“I know I pushed too far,” John begins. The pair of them stand in front of each other. “You kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I never thought you would actually leave, but I can’t say I was surprised when you asked for a divorce. You were trying, and I wasn’t listening. I meant what I said last night. I’m not mad.”

It…. stings. Knowing the truth the whole time- John thinking he can just wait her out. That he can lean on her despite her protests and eventually she’ll give up. But it’s a dull pain, considering it’s something she’s lived with for years. She’s well familiar with it. 

“So why? Why let it get that far. I know what you do is important. I know it’s selfish to ask you to give that up, but we’ve got three kids, John. You want a fourth! It is so hard to be the one who stays with them when you leave. They don’t grasp the situation. They just know that their dad’s gone and they miss you. And I cannot breathe when you are deployed and sent off to fuck-knows-where dealing with some of the most violent, dangerous groups on the planet. What if you don’t come home? How am I supposed to raise them without you?”

Sharp words coming from the same woman who kicked John out. But it’s the same story he’s been hearing for the better part of decade ever since their first was born. He can likely recite her speech from the heart at this point.

Like always, John is steadfast in the storm no matter how far into orbit she flies. He’s well acquainted with her whims, and knows just how easy it is to rile her up and yet also knows exactly how to bring her back down. 

At the moment her expression is similar to that of a wet hen’s.

“I didn’t think you’d leave.” It’s the truth and she knows it and it pisses her off. “I knew you weren’t happy with it, but overall we were happy with each other. I wasn’t cheating on you. I’m not a mean drunk. I might be absent at times but I’m not cruel. I keep you happy in bed. You want for nothing. The boys know I adore them. Every marriage has its problems. I thought we both understood that the nature of my job is ours.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she reiterates, and she’s not sure if her voice warbles from how angry she is at the confirmation that he thought he could wait her out until he felt like retiring (or, more likely- she buries him), or at herself because she picked him and how mad can she be when he’s been honest about his work from the start.

There’s no clear cut villain. John is right. His job has weighed down on them since the beginning. In the beginning she thought she could handle it. But three children later and she’s begun to realize- far too late- that it’s so much. Subjecting them to something they never asked for because they were born into this schedule where John is beholden to Kate fucking Laswell more than his own family (peace and love to her- she’s great but she is the walking representation of everything they are struggling with in their marriage).

Her mind is a jumbling mess, like twine that’s interlocking and needing to unravel. There’s no clear cut path forward. She will go absolutely insane if things continue on the way they have been, but the time apart has shown her that she doesn’t really want to separate from John. No other man can even come close to him.

“So now what do we do?” she asks.

John steps closer to her, reaching to run his knuckles across her cheek in affection. “I want to come home, sweetheart.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She expects some sort of protest. Some sort of Yes it can be, and she’s not sure if she’s got the mental fortitude to continue holding her ground. But she knows that nothing will change if she lets up now. This is the moment where she either needs to throw in the towel, or maybe- just maybe there’s a chance.

They’ve made it this far. But she is so tired. She can’t go back but she’s got no idea what’s ahead or how long it will take to get there.

“I know. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“It is your last one John, I swea-” She’s always hated that stupid fucking movie trope where the man shuts the woman up by kissing her. Yet here she is, her (fragile) attempt at a stern warning cut off as John snatches her up and pulls her to him.

After last night, one would think they’d gotten enough of each other to not be groping at each other like animals in heat.

Mother fucker he’s doing it again. He doesn’t fight as she pulls away, though those pretty blue eyes are blown showing where he would have been heading had she not stopped him.

“I mean it, John. You said you want this to work, but I need to see changes. You need to be home and not fucking off half away across the world at the drop of a hat. I need to be able to make plans and know that you will be here.”

“Anything, sweetheart. I just want my family back. I swear, I’m listening this time. I’ll figure it out.”

The lust has calmed from his eyes as he approaches again, making her look up at him. “You remember our little conversation from last night?” 

He looks as serious as a heart attack, and there was a lot said last night.

She’s taking too long to answer, as he continues unprompted. “I know you’re not going to sign the papers overnight, and I’m fine with that. But your ring stays on, and there are no more dates with other men. You are mine. You are not single, and I expect you to act like it, hm?”

The chaste kiss to her temple is a sharp juxtaposition to the severity of his tone. He certainly doesn’t need to tell her twice.

“I promise,” she assures him, seeing how the intensity drains out of him as he’s mollified by her words. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but did you- was there-” the words choke as she stumbles over them. She can’t be mad. She’s got no right to- they are divorced, and he (was) single and free to do as he pleases. But the idea of John drowning his sorrows in another woman’s body makes her want to claw someone’s eyes out.

And she really should have asked before he fucked her without a condom, but hindsight is 20/20.

Despite her inability to get the words together in the right order, John seems to know her question. He pulls her close to him, tucking her under his chin.

“No, sweetheart. There was never anyone else.”

The knot in her gut unwinds a little bit. “I love you, John. I’m sorry it came to this.”

“We’ll fix it, sweetheart.”

For a moment they stand there in the quiet, but there was no telling what sort of trouble their little trio might get into if left alone for too long. When John unlocks and opens the door, they both raise an eyebrow at the sight of their youngest dashing off around the corner.

Like the three little troublemakers had tried to listen through the door (which they would not be able to do- because she has tried once or twice), and the youngest was too slow to keep up with his brothers who are perched on the couch for all the world like they never left it.

The older two try to play their hand at staying cool, although the youngest boy is giggling- enjoying his “game” of teaming up with his brothers to try and pull a fast one on their parents.

“Do you have to leave?” The question from their oldest is deliberate, and succeeds in distracting them from the fact that their kids were definitely trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for young ears.

“Not today,” John answers, ignoring the sharp look she shoots his way.

It’s a delicate balancing act as they stumble through picking up the broken pieces of their marriage. John can’t prove that he’s controlling his work hours unless she lets him in the house, but does give him shit about not moving in too soon. She doesn’t want him getting comfortable or complacent and back sliding on his promise.

Of course, John gets his lick back. There had been a stern conversation about condoms until her birth control is in hand.

Only to find out at her appointment that they can’t give it to her because she’s pregnant.

Mother fucker. Damn that “one shot, one kill” motherfucker. Their one slip up was the only discrepancy since they have gotten back together- that has to be when she conceived. Why did she fall in love with a sniper?

John is ecstatic with the news, as are the boys. She feels like a wet, disgruntled hen.

The new baby throws a wrench in her plans, but she can’t quite find it in her to be too disappointed once the shock wears off. John had been set on another baby, chattering on and on about how he hopes it’s a girl. They would have had another baby at some point, it’s just a bit sooner than she was anticipating.

No doubt for the boys, the new baby is an assurance that their parents aren’t staying separated. In their simplistic view, that’s as good as ink drying on paper that they’re staying together.

At her scan when it’s revealed she’s carrying boy #4, John kisses her temple and tells her how happy he is.

The youngest daughter that he’s got his sights set on is shelved for the duration of her pregnancy, not another peep of it mentioned.

A girl would have been nice, but she’s well experienced with wrangling John Price’s sons, and no doubt this one will fall into the group just fine.

John’s got quite the track record of giving her pretty babies, which everyone praises and compliments when the little man finally makes his arrival.

When he is home (which has been substantially more, she has to admit), he’s an active and involved father who’s besotted by his children and happily splits night duty with his exhausted wife. Keeps the older boys in line and behaving.

She doesn’t sign anything until John has a signed transfer request. While he’ll still be working in counter terrorism, and still be very close with the 141, his job no longer mandates he ups and leaves at the drop of a hat.

They celebrate quietly. Friends and family have made their opinions known about the back and forth tentative future of their marriage (mostly a well intended shit or get off the pot), and they elect to drop the boys with John’s parents to have a weekend for themselves.

There are no lusty slip ups and everything is followed to the letter but she wants to kill John when he grins at her positive pregnancy test.

Everything can fail, it seems. John merely commenting “Maybe this one will be a girl”, showing his hand that he hasn’t quite given up his dreams of a youngest girl to round out their gaggle of boys.

She doesn’t want to know the gender this time around, which John grouses about but ultimately accepts.

When Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley promotes to a new rank, John is the one the man calls to ask him to participate in his ceremony.

She’s still in her second trimester, not quite teetering into her third just yet. John wants to bring the kids. If the third trimester exhaustion had stuck yet, she likely could have begged to be left out and he likely would have acquiesced. And the boys usually know better than to try anything when on base with John.

The day comes and she feels like a walking stereotype of an officer’s wife- gaggle of kids clinging to her skirt, the newest baby still clinging to her, and an unmistakable pregnancy bump.

“Cookin’ another boy in there, Mrs. Price?” Soap asks good naturedly while they’re waiting.

“Not quite sure,” she answers, eyes on her three more mobile kids making sure they’re settling in and behaving. “John’s been itching for a girl since before this one came,” she gestures to their youngest in her arms.

“Well, hopefully it’a girl then for yer sake- man’s gonna give ya a football team at this rate!” the Scot laughs, chortling at his own joke. There are times when she sometimes wonders how someone as charming as Johnny Mactavish got wrangled into clandestine counter terrorism missions, but then she remembers that as much as he can charm a bird from a tree, it’s comments like that that skirt just too comfortable that yes, he’s probably got a few screws loose. (She sometimes wonders about Kyle too, who is giving Johnny a “fucking really??” look, but can’t quite pin anything. The man is perfectly mild mannered and respectable, and she knows that their work can warp someone given enough time.)

“Hopefully so,” she answers amicably. While her pregnancy has been blessedly uneventful, she’s already over it and will be perfectly happy with this being her last.

Something tells her that John is going to get his wish, one way or another though.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[eloves-writes]

so it goes…

[coriolanus snow x reader]

desc: part 2 here! as dr gaul’s assistant, you find yourself alone in her laboratory bearing an unpleasant task with her other mentee, coriolanus snow, who you strongly despise. or so it goes … warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), slightly public sex, reader is wearing a skirt, think that's it but please lmk if i need to add anything! a/n: thank you so much for all the love on my last fic! and thank you anon for this request, i love and appreciate requests more than you know!!! enjoy this. will for sure write a second chapter if one singlular person expresses interest. mwah mwah mwah ily this work contains mature themes, minors dni

dr gaul’s lab was filled with weird and wonderful (but mostly weird) things. you sat, bored, on your side of the gamemaker’s desk staring at shelves and shelves of creatures of all shapes and sizes with various muttations. according to the clock beside you, it had been 30 minutes since gaul herself had left the room to ‘see to something’. it was often best not to ask questions when things like that happened, but you really wished she would come back soon as your work day technically ended in a few minutes and gaul’s second-favourite mentee came to visit her after hours almost every day. coriolanus snow was not necessarily an unpleasant person, not to you at least, but he was certainly unbearable. he was so up his own ass thinking he was better than everybody else that he failed to realise how much of a pompous twat he was. ‘snow lands on top’. god, those four words were practically all you heard come out of his mouth when he wasn’t sucking up to dr gaul or spewing fake niceties to any authoritative figure who would listen.

as you were thinking about how annoying he is and how pretentious his stupid hairstyle was, the door to the lab was hauled open by the peacekeepers who stood guard outside. thank god gaul was back, you couldn’t wait to get out of here. not that you weren’t grateful for this assistant’s position, because it was a highly coveted role for university students each year and you’d beat them all out for it. even snow. ha. even suck-up snow. fuck. snow.

the tall blond had entered the lab and was walking up to your desk with his usual self-assured smile and red uniform.

“y/n, good evening.”

“snow.”

his pleasant facade dropped for just a moment at your monotonous response.

“where’s dr gaul?”

you passive aggressively put down the pen you had been tapping on the desk.

“i don’t know,” you replied blandly, studying his face like you trying to read his mind. “she left like a half hour ago to ‘see to something’, but she’s not been back. i’d suggest you leave and speak to her tomorrow instead.”

coriolanus pulled a face as if thoroughly surprised that anyone could be anything less than cordial to him. it was a subtle change in expression, but you figured that’s what he was thinking.

“that’s quite alright, y/n,” he smiled mockingly, “i’ll sit right here and wait. nowhere to be tonight.”

“shocker,” you murmured, watching as snow sat in the empty chair opposite you.

the two of you stayed sat at gaul’s desk for almost 10 minutes before either of you said anything else.

“how is the apprenticeship going?” snow asked, trying to fill the awkward silence by feigning interest.

“it’s great. thanks. thrilling, actually. i’m having the time of my life. this is so much fun,” you retorted.

coriolanus raised an eyebrow and shifted in his seat. “you know, every one of gaul’s students wanted this apprenticeship. if you’re not enjoying it, i am more than certain that you could find somebody to fill the role.”

you huffed sarcastically. “oh good try, snow. i’m not giving it up that easily.”

“so i’ve heard,” he muttered.

before you could respond to that, the laboratory doors hauled open again and dr gaul finally returned.

“ah, coriolanus, good,” she welcomed, entering with purpose in her stride. “i have a small ask of the pair of you.”

there was no way in the whole of panem that this would be a ‘small’ ask, coming from her. coriolanus’ eyes widened in apprehension.

“don’t make that face at me, coriolanus snow.”

“sorry.”

“good. i must continue to deal with a situation that has arisen, i need you two to feed chupa before he gets too hungry. that’s all, then you both may leave and i shall see you," you watched her search for a rhyme, "before tomorrow’s eve.”

then she turned to leave, with you and coriolanus pulling faces of horror. ‘chupa’ was a particularly hideous and dangerous looking creature that gaul had advised you, on multiple occasions, to keep your distance from. and now she was asking you to feed him? sometimes it was like she wanted you dead.

“wait a minute,” you said hesitantly. gaul moved only her head to look at you and you regretted opening your mouth immediately. “sorry, dr gaul, you want us,” you motioned to yourself and snow, “to feed that,” you pointed at the cage where the beast appeared to be smirking.

“yes,” she replied plainly. “he will eat anything, but he most likes the small green snakes.”

with that, she left the lab again.

coriolanus looked at you, looked at chupa, then looked back at you. “what the fuck is that?”

you snorted, enjoying seeing him uncomfortable. “do you want to get the snakes, or shall i?”

“you get them,” he spoke quickly. “i don’t like snakes.”

you were suspicious at this apparently strong aversion to the slithering reptiles. perhaps they’d scared him when he was younger, and never shook it off. or perhaps one had bitten him. you imagined him flailing his arms and screaming and it made you chuckle to yourself as you took a jar half-filled with thin, forest green snakes. they weren’t venomous, in fact they were quite amiable and undeserving of being fed to the ugly brute in the cage beside you. regardless, you removed two snakes from the jar and placed it back on the shelf.

coriolanus was keeping his distance, making you do all the work. lazy asshole.

“can you open the cage?” you directed snarkily. he tentatively unfastened the top of the cage, standing closer to you than he ever had before. up close, he looked like a real person. a real person who was just as real as everybody else in the capitol, not any better. he smelt better than a lot of them though. like cologne and fresh roses. you mentally chastised yourself for noticing and tried to focus on the task at hand.

your snake-holding hand slid towards chupa’s mouth, which opened to reveal a large set of sharp fangs that seemed to be moving upwards

“be careful of the fangs,” snow warned from behind you.

“thank you coriolanus, i’m so glad you told me that. i was truly about to stick my fingers into his mouth,” you retorted sarcastically, starting to feed the snakes to the disgusting creature.

he mumbled something incoherent that sounded something like “i wish you would.”

“sorry what was that, snow? did you say something,” you asked, becoming more irritated by his unhelpful presence.

as chupa finished the tail of the second snake, he bit the air above him in an attempt to get your hand for dessert, making you rapidly withdraw your hand from the cage and leap backwards. coriolanus dropped the lid in shock and it thankfully fastened itself.

when you had leapt backwards, you had leapt backwards straight into snow’s arms that he had instinctively wrapped around you in protection. his arms were stronger than they looked through his uniform jacket, and his chest much more toned. it felt beyond strange to be this close to him. but something deep inside of you suddenly yearned to be closer, and you slowly rotated yourself in his arms to face him, hands pressed against his chest.

coriolanus was looking into your eyes like nothing else was in the room. like he had never seen a person’s eyes this close before. he was looking at you like you were most incredibly fascinating thing he had ever seen.

and maybe you were; he had grown used to the capitol women throwing themselves at him. he didn’t struggle to take them home, had no issues finding a date to all the various events he attended. then there you were- snapping at him and poking fun at him, and not even waiting until his back was turned to roll your eyes or pull faces. in what he deemed a cruel twist of fate, you were the only girl in the capitol who didn’t look at him like he was god, and you were the only girl in the capitol he truly felt something deeper than momentary lust for.

his lust for you was not momentary. it was perpetual. and having you this close to him, safe and protected in his arms, confirmed for him that you needed to be his. the world bent to the will of coriolanus snow. and so would you.

in an instant where your body no longer obeyed your better judgment, you pressed your lips to coriolanus’.

he kissed you back like you were a source of oxygen, using his advantageous hold of you to force you to walk backwards towards the rows of bookshelves behind gaul’s desk without separating your lips. he swiftly checked the door to make sure nobody had snuck in before your bodies were eclipsed by the cover of the well-stocked shelves and you were roughly pushed up against them. snow continued to kiss you, moving down to your neck to leave marks sure to raise questions the next morning, then down to your collarbone, unbuttoning your blouse as he went so that his path was clear to mark you with his mouth all the way down to the waistband of your skirt. his kneeled down before you and pushed up your skirt, looking up at you for approval. you nodded, still caught up in the moment. this was fine. this felt good. it really felt good when snow removed your panties and placed your legs over his shoulders, holding you up at the waist and running his tongue along your folds, earning a loud moan from you. he withdrew his head from you skirt to shush you, before returning his tongue to your centre and flicking it against your clit. you bit onto your knuckle to absorb the sound of the whimpers escaping you. where the fuck had he learned to do this? it felt heavenly, his mouth drawing you ever closer to release with his large hands digging into your hips to keep you in position.

“coryo,” you whispered. “coryo, i’m close.”

he began to hum in acknowledgement, sending you right over the edge. a moan slipped from your mouth as you came, feeling your slick drip onto his face. he continued to lap at your juices as you rode out your orgasm, a blissful haze washing over you. if these were the skills making snow so cocky, you couldn’t fault him for that particular trait any longer. he lifted his head and smiled at you like a man who was very aware you’d just cum on his face by his manipulation. he helped you take your legs from his shoulders with a satisfied smirk when they wobbled under the weight of your body, then he kissed you again, softer this time, to force you to taste yourself on his tongue. you reached your hand forward to his crotch, palming him through his constricting pants. he indulged you for a minute, then removed your hand and lifted it to his lips like a true gentlemen.

you felt a little disappointed to not repay the favour, finally feeling content with your formerly repressed lust for the man.

but then he leaned down to your ear and whispered in a low tone, “you can owe me one,” before giving you one last lewd kiss and leaving you stood behind the bookshelves in the head gamemaker’s office with messed up hair and a realisation that you really wanted coriolanus snow to come and visit after hours again tomorrow.

[kithtaehyung]

would u? (3tan717) | myg

3tan717 drabble #1: would u? pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 rating/genre: pg (18+) ; fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: you see a certain fruit-centered trend online.. and decide to test it on yoongi note: i am so so so sorry this is out on the very last day of feb but things have been absolute bananas lately! tbh i’m surprised this is even getting posted on time and i have even more to do after this is shared but eff it shibal!!! note 2: as promised, this is dedicated to the people that submitted the answers i’m using for this drabble: anon, grapes / @yoongrace, and apryl @aprylynn for this idea hehehe! also i literally just finished this so it's legit unedited so i'm sry for any mistakes! off to go prep for events now! warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, working yoongi??, kitchen, period cramps suck but yoongi to the mf rescue drop date: feb 29th, 2024, 10:03pm est word count: 2.3k

-

-

Ugh. 

Why does this have to happen every fucking month. Why can’t it happen every three? Or six? Or never ever ever? 

Groaning, you roll over, burying your face into the pillow on Yoongi’s side. 

To some degree, you feel placated, probably due to his scent still lingering next to your dismay. He had to get up early to finish a track, but he assured you can be in the room. 

You can hear a little bit of what he’s working on as it bleeds through his headphones, and even just this sliver of sound gives you chills. Not just because of what it sounds like, but the sole fact that Yoongi’s letting you even listen in the first place. 

Huffing out a bit of amusement, you remember the last time Yoongi let you stay while he worked—albeit at his place while he went to the studio. 

Damn, how much you’ve grown since then. All those memories, those quiet times and tumultuous times, everything leading up to now. How time has molded you with knowing hands. 

However, no matter how much has changed all these months, some things have not wavered, like the fact that you needed to be sure he was okay with it—and his answer making you absurdly shy. 

Did he really have to say that you’re either staying or he’s gonna leave? That scheming motherfucker! 

Some drum beats hit your cheek before you realize the menace himself is playing multiple different ones. It’s only a couple hits before he moves onto the next, and you’re about to lift your hea—

“Fuck, where the hell is that kick?” 

Your laugh is stifled by cotton. As tickled as you are to hear Yoongi like this, you don’t wanna do anything to distract him. 

But by doing so, that causes your body to tighten and fuck, it hurts. It hurts to move, it hurts to laugh, it hurts to just exist. God, you want him to come back and join you so bad, but you don’t wanna be that person. 

…Yet. Maybe if it gets so bad you can’t even sleep? 

“Found you! Fucking finally. Thought you could hide from me, huh?” 

Oh, fucking hell, he’s adorable. 

Yeah, there’s no way you’re making him drop everything right now. This is too precious of an afternoon to stop. 

Exhaling a mile long breath, you fight through your pain and feel for your phone, groaning as you shift yourself. When in position under sheets and warm sunlight, you cycle through apps as a distraction. 

Scrolling. Scrolling. Smiling at some animal videos a bit before scrolling again. 

After all of five minutes, you start to see a trend on your feed, and suddenly get the idea to try it on Yoongi. It’s simple and harmless, right? 

You [3:30pm]: would u peel an orange for me 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, and you lift your head slightly to see if he looks at his phone. 

When he does, he checks it really quick before setting it back down on his desk, back to clicking on his screen. 

Ah. Damn. He must really be in the zone because… 

Uhh. 

Blinking, you watch as Yoongi rolls his chair out to get up, setting his glasses down and heading out of the room with a light swing of his chains. 

Uh. What just happened? Did you upset him? You’re so stunned that his swift exit has you wanting to get up and follow him.  

But ow. Ouch. It’s maddening how much your cramps are getting to you. 

Bearing the punches to your gut, you start sliding out of the bed, straining and sucking in sharp breaths just to stand and pull Yoongi’s comforter over your tension. 

Padding out the bedroom, your worries make your steps tiny and heavy, and you regret sending that text because you literally just said you weren’t… gonna…

On the dining table—quiet—lie three tangerines, peeled and placed next to vibrant scraps while your lover peels a fourth with diligent, devoted hands. 

And you can’t even form words that match how you feel. 

Your vision swims right as Yoongi looks your way, his body stilling before he puts the fruit down. 

When he approaches with concern, you answer his silent questions through hiccups, “I—I thought you left cus—you were mad.” 

“Huh?” 

“I don’t even know,” you swallow, gesturing to all of your lower half and feeling him hold the slipping blanket. “It’s just… this, I guess.”

“Does it hurt?” 

“Like a motherfucker.” 

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, doll. Hold up.” Handing you the comforter, Yoongi goes to his cabinets in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of medicine before walking it over. “You gotta take something as soon as you feel it. Don’t let it get this bad.”

“I know,” you groan, resting your head on his shirt and inhaling his healing presence. “I didn’t wanna bother you.” 

Your forehead is kissed. “You’re not bothering me. Especially with something like this.” 

“Okay.” 

He walks away again to grab some water, and you watch as he pours some into an electric kettle before starting it up. 

Glancing back at the fruit, you sigh, clutching the bottle of pills while feeling the weight of his comforter. He’s probably not pleased with the way it might drag on the ground, so you gather it and pick the end chair to sit on. 

And then you sigh, “Sorry for making you peel those. I didn’t even plan on eating anything.”  

“Too bad. You’re gonna eat what I make you anyway.” 

Wait, he’s cooking? He has work to do! “You’re working, though. Don’t worry about me right now.” 

“It’ll be quick.” 

“What are you making?” 

A glass bowl and pan are procured from random places before Yoongi blinks in place. “Uhh.. You’ll see.” 

As he clunks them onto his counter and stove, you watch with hearts for eyes as he bustles around the kitchen space. Even doing things as simple as washing his hands, opening his fridge, and simply grabbing a knife gives you pause. 

And this is when you realize that you can watch Yoongi do absolutely anything and be amazed. 

Even when he stands, watching you with a look that’s wait why doesn’t he look—

“Take the medicine, baby girl.” 

Oh. 

Snapping out of your trance, you nod. “Sorry.” 

Yoongi continues to give you glances until you swallow down the painkillers, satisfied enough to continue his cooking venture when you take the second one. 

As the sun paints the apartment in marigold and light, you keep watching with a smile as he brings the kitchen to life. Butter sizzles in a pan, tangerines are getting halved on a board, and something is getting mixed with a whisk. 

Who knew that the neighborhood fuckboy would have a whisk on hand? Not the younger you, that’s for damn sure. 

But here Yoongi is, in the flesh, whisking away with veiny forearms that have you thinking the most absurd thoughts during this time of the month. The only thing that would cut through the raging horniness would be getting up to see what the hell he’s making. 

It’s starting to smell familiar though. But he put the tangerines in the pan so you don’t even know what to expect right now. 

Walking up—blanket left behind—you observe the kitchen before peering over his broad shoulder. “Mm.. Smells like pancakes.” 

Yoongi doesn’t answer, but when you see the consistency of the batter, you realize you’re correct. “Oh, it is! I’m smart.” 

“You are,” he laughs. “But you didn’t get it all the way right.” 

“No?” 

“Nope.” Yoongi then gently gets you to move before he pours the batter over the slices, and you crane your neck to watch as he evens it all out. “Just one tangerine pancake.”

“Oh, okay,” you scoff, earning a laugh at your side. “Whatever, chef.” 

“We’ll see what you say in a bit.” 

Is he gonna leave it or flip it? Probably the latter. 

“K. Gonna flip that once it’s done.” 

Nice. You smile to yourself, loving how you’re starting to really be on the same page. Nudging him, you keep watching as he lowers the heat and sets the lid on the pan. “What now?” 

“We wait,” he responds, dusting his hands together before cleaning up his mixing bowl. “And I’m gonna see if we have any sugar.”

Damn it, Yoongi cannot keep saying that two-letter word. It’s starting to be detrimental to your health. “I can help.” 

“S’ok,” he assures, nose upturned. “Just watch me work.” 

“Oh, I’m very good at doing that.” 

At this, Yoongi turns and gives you a smile that immediately reminds you of summer, and you almost feel like crying again. 

“I’ve actually never tried this, but. We’ll see if this works.” 

With nothing snarky, or teasing, or fake to say, you reply with a smile and a genuine, “I’m sure it will.” 

When he keeps staring, his eyes lower to your lips, and you don’t care that you probably look like a wreck, or feel like one. Because the way he’s looking at you now makes you glow. 

If only the kettle didn’t decide this was the moment to stop boiling. 

You were probably about to get the kiss of your life. 

But Yoongi halts in his tracks before shifting to get a mug, setting it down with a thud before checking on the pancakes. Pancake. Whatever that delicious-smelling thing is gonna be. 

“There’s some tea packets in that right drawer. Help yourself cus I’d rather you pick.” 

Chuckling, you oblige before scooting over. After seeing a small jar of granules on the counter, you start rummaging through the drawer, exploring the various options while hearing the sound of a plate behind you. 

Ah, Yoongi’s flipping it. 

As you turn, you’re just in time to watch the muscles in his back protrude through his shirt as he flips the pan, impressed as he sets the plate down because holy hell that looks great. 

“Sugar, sugar, sugar… Suga, suga, suga.” 

Laughing, you interrupt his silly search as you grab the jar you just saw. “Suga suga, how you get so fly?”

Yoongi stops to see what’s in your hand, and he huffs through a grin before grabbing it. “Thanks, doll.” 

You keep humming the song that’s now wedged into your head as you watch him sprinkle bits on the pancake. 

“I don’t have a blowtorch,” he admits, “But I do have this.” 

Rolling out a drawer, Yoongi takes out a long lighter before holding it to the sugary top, humming the same song you were just singing without even knowing it. As the sugar slowly but surely heats, you both keep humming and basking in a calm afternoon. 

And you don’t even feel the pain anymore. 

“Go ahead and sit, babe.” 

“You sure?” 

“Uh huh.” 

Following instructions, you make your way to the table, cocooning yourself in his comforter again as you await the cutest meal you’ve had in weeks. Months. Lifetimes. 

Speaking of lifetimes… You hope every version of you meets every version of him. No matter when. No matter where. Because you want every version of yourself to find happiness, and Yoongi has been the one to help you finally find it. 

And he certainly passed whatever the hell this orange theory thing was supposed to be. 

Plates are set down to break you out of introspection, and you glance up with eyes sparkling. 

When Yoongi raises a brow, you just smile. When he asks what’s gotten into you, a chuckle escapes before you shake your head, 

“Nothing, baby. Just didn’t expect all this from that text.” 

As he plops into the next chair, you love the way the sun settles on his skin. Highlights his hair. Shimmers in his eyes. 

“Don’t even need to ask, babe.” He captures your attention with a calm look. “I was waiting for any distractions anyways.” 

So this was for him, too? Good. 

Grabbing your fork, you giggle. “Sounded like you were having a little trouble over there.” 

“I was! This is what I get for not saving my shit.” 

Both of you sit back in laugher as you throw your hands out. “Do that!” 

“I’m lazy!” 

“Tough shit!” 

“I know!” 

Grinning, you loll your head before waving your fork out. “You’re gonna save those sounds, and you’re gonna remember this day and thank me.” 

Yoongi just tightens his lips in a smile, eyes creased and glimmering. “Maybe.” 

“Yes. I’ll stand there and watch you until you do it.” 

"Really.."

For the rest of the afternoon—with full bellies and clear minds—you rest on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, forcing him to find the files he needs and watching him groan his way through saving everything. 

Constantly laughing at the ridiculously random names he’s assigning them.

When he’s done, you watch as he spins around in his chair, heart thumping with anticipation as you’re met with a waiting pair of eyes.

Breathtaking. 

When he leans in, you feel incredibly shy. Always, always, always. This will forever remain the same.

And—just as well—Yoongi's kisses will forever taste like tangerines. 

Three of them, to be exact. 

-

-

fin. :)

-

how did the first 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe

a/n: nothing much to say other than i love y'all so much! i will try responding to anything when i can (there's literally still all the 3tan12 feedback to get to) but i do read all the commentary sent in and it keeps me going strong :'))) so thank you again for being here and being amazingly patient with me. off to work on more things but i shall be back once the wild weeks are over!

a/n 2: suga suga how you get so flyyyy hahaha

[spadesolace]

drag me down: night changes

synopsis: ‘are we dating or not’ is one of the questions that popped into y/n’s mind when she and hanni had admitted their feelings - it was never a question that would have been asked if they both hated each other’s guts.

words: 3.6k

previous | next

“Do you think if we had been honest with our feelings, we could have been dating from the very beginning?”

Y/N paused her game as she looked at Hanni on facetime, it had been established that the pair liked  each other in a more than friends way but they never had that entire conversation just yet.

What had happened after that whole fiasco in the hallway with Hanni crying her eyes out was such a blur as Y/N processes everything – Hanni rejecting Jungwon and then confessing her feelings for the girl that is in call with her and not having a proper conversation on whether whatever their entire thing is actually dating or a talking stage. This has been going on for a week and neither one had thought of clarifying what the label is.

“Pham, are we dating?” Hanni looked at the girl in her ipad screen, in her hoodie and thick framed glasses that makes her look so different from whenever they’re at the academy. That’s the same girl who wears her uniform in a messy way that makes it work but also has such a business casual fit that makes her question if the person she’s talking to is the same person.

The question baffles her because she hasn’t been much in the dating scene despite having Jungwon court her for at least a year and ended up breaking his heart abruptly as she ran away and went after the girl she hated for 2 years.

“I thought we are…��� Hanni could hear the loud smack coming from Y/N’s end, having to see that the girl had hit her head as disappointment was shown on her face. All she could do is laugh at her as Y/N fixes herself and looks at Hanni directly on the screen.

“Listen, Pham.” Y/N’s finger is pointed at the screen as Hanni closes her book and looks at the girl on the screen as she points back at her.

“I told you to call me Hanni.” The pair laugh as Y/N back away with her hands up and acting as if she is surrendering as Hanni could only watch her from afar.

“Ok ok, I just wanted to clear the air.” Y/N settles down and looks at Hanni through the screen, a sudden shift in the atmosphere from light-hearted conversations to a much more serious vibe. “Us dating? I haven’t even taken you on a proper date yet. Let alone get your parents approval o-” 

“We have no issue on the last part.”

Y/N raises her eyebrow at the girl as she runs her fingers through her hair and goes on a minute to talk about how her parents already love her and how the Parks immediately took a liking to her especially on how they specifically asked her to take their daughter to the dance. There was no rebuttal on the other side of the screen as she smiles at Hanni and shakes her head. It has only been a week yet they act like a married couple already.

“I want to talk about this in person but I won’t be seeing you until we get back, which is next year. How about-”

“We meet up and have our first date?” Hanni beats her to it as she looks at the girl with a smile, leaning closer to the screen and using the back of her hand to support her head.

“Not a romantic way of asking me out but yes.”

Hanni is persistent, that was a given and if she wants something she’ll work hard to get it and even if she has it, she has such a strong grip, afraid to lose it. Now that she sort of has a girlfriend but really it has yet to be established where the relationship is going considering that Y/N has sort of a future planned for her.

That was one of the dilemmas Y/N has because if she chooses to follow her parents’ footsteps that would also mean exposing Hanni to the public and she hopes to avoid the fact that her future girlfriend would be simply known as her girlfriend. That’s a problem for their future selves for now, Y/N decides to focus on their first date.

Which leads them to where they are now – discussing plans for the date they suddenly planned for the following day, it wasn’t like either had plans during winter break. Nothing too important but it was a way to meet up and spend time together that wasn’t through a screen.

“So… I’ll pick you up tomorrow then? After that we go somewhere to get lunch then we-”

“Yes, now could you relax, I won’t ditch you when you’re gonna pick me up.” One thing Hanni noticed early on was how much Y/N needs reassurance, she likes to plan stuff and clearly it’s both their first times being in a relationship. It’s understandable that they only wish for the best.

It was already quite late when they finalised the plan for their date, one of which they both decided to be a chill and not so much that would make anyone know their whereabouts. Blueming cafe was out of the question along with any restaurants that are owned by the Parks. Despite the fact that there is a possibility of them ending up there.

“Alright, I don’t want the princess to be cranky tomorrow.” Y/N teases as she carries her iPad to her bed with the lamp left on.

“Actually, shut up.” Hanni was in the same position, her ipad next to her as she lay in bed and getting ready to sleep.

“Make me.”

“I’ll do that tomorrow. Anyway bye and sleep well, Y/NN.”

The call ended abruptly as Y/N stared at her ipad, processing what Hanni could have jokingly suggested. She could only scream at her pillow after it had sunk in the many possible scenarios that could happen tomorrow. It wasn’t like Hanni never tried to kiss her, there were multiple occasions that they almost kissed and it has always been within the comforts of either one of their clubs assigned rooms. Hanni has always been the risky one between the two, Y/N admits that she’s not too keen on the idea of public display of affection but she could consider an exemption for the top student.

“Time to learn the train system of Seoul.”

— — —- — — — — —-

As the following day starts, Y/N was in a panic as she woke up two hours before she could pick up Hanni. It’s one of those ‘I planned how my morning should go, and I’m behind schedule’ thoughts. Her shower was fast but picking the perfect outfit with the help of her little sister’s approval was a bit of an issue as Hyejoo liked everything. In the end, she stuck to what she’s comfortable with and appropriate for the date.

Breakfast was peaceful, having Hyejoo ask her questions about various things from her new book, but one question left Y/N choking on her food. “Are you going out with your pretty classmate?”

“Hyejoo!” The kid shrugged as she looked at her sister with curious eyes. Her chopsticks were placed on her plate, as she opened her mouth to speak once more.

“She’s pretty, right?” There’s silence but the slow nod coming from the oldest Park makes the conversation light once more. “She’s also nice, I like her for you.”

For a 10 year old, those words meant a lot for Y/N. It makes her smile as she finishes up her food. She looks at Hyejoo who is now watching a random video online. A show that originated from Australia about a blue dog teaching about values, she pats Hyejoo on the head as she brings her plate to the sink. “I like her too.”

Y/N was 5 minutes early as her driver stopped in front of the Pham household, she sent a quick message to Hanni letting the girl know she’s outside. Fidgeting her fingers as the driver opens the door for her, a quick quiet ‘thank you’ as she looks at the house in front of her.

This was the start on how she noticed their differences between them at school and outside; she’s early when it comes to going out unlike when she’s at school almost running late every single day. Hanni, on the other hand, well she takes her time to get ready whenever she goes out - the whole ‘i meet experience a meet cute’ is engraved in her mind from watching romcoms.

Hanni was quite surprised to see the girl in the living room talking to her parents, a glass of water being offered and she could only watch the girl in her casual yet somewhat formal fit that she rarely sees - she finds it attractive.

There’s a subtle smile as she listens to Y/N talking to her parents. Her voice is soft, taking an occasional sip as she’s immersed in the conversation that she forgot the reason why she’s here. Y/N looks up as Hanni cleared her throat, signalling her towards the door as to end the conversation she had with her parents.

The pair say their goodbyes, a few playful jabs on Hanni’s parents asking her to bring Hanni home before 11 in the evening. A quick wave and a few awkward glances at each other, followed by an awkward ‘hi’ at each other followed by an eruption of laughter.

“That was a bit awkward.” The sidewalk looked more interesting with Y/N’s gaze focused on it. A small smile on her face as Hanni nudges her as she guides them to the nearby cafe within the neighbourhood.

“What? That you’re being all nice and a suck up to my parents?” There’s another fit of laughter coming from Y/N as she looks at Hanni, a bright smile on her face.

“Partially that but honestly, it looked like you wanted to leave.” Hanni playfully nudges her again, but slowly ends up laughing at the scene from earlier.

There’s a comforting silence between them as they walk side by side towards the cafe. Lightly brushing each other’s hand as if they’re too scared to show any public affection, Y/N sighed and held Hanni’s hand.

“We won’t get anywhere if we keep this up.” She slows down a bit as she feels Hanni almost stopping as she looks at their intertwined hands and back at her. Faint blush on her cheeks as Hanni smiles and squeezes her hand.

“You have soft hands.”

“And yours are small.”

Hanni smacks her on the shoulder as they continue to walk towards the small cafe nearby. Enjoying the scenery around them, talking about everything and nothing as they arrived in the cafe. It wasn’t crowded (good for them) as they found a spot by the window. Y/N had asked for Hanni’s order rather than letting them individually order for themselves.

Hanni watched as Y/N hanged their coats on the chair next to hers. Seeing the full fit without a coat covering it as she stands by the counter. Immediately pulling her phone out to take a picture of her date with a serious look and a small smile as she orders for them. Taking a closer inspection of the picture, she notices the little details of Y/N’s fit - smaller framed glasses, hair down, and a nice black turtleneck that fits perfectly with their date. 

“What are you staring at, Pham?”

Hanni looks up, Y/N already holding the tray of their food as she settles it down on their table. She’s gotten a good look at her hands and the small accessories. The thick silver ring on her middle finger along with a black leather watch that was hidden by the long sleeves of her top. She clears her throat as she takes her mug of hot chocolate. “You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“Oh sorry, should I call you princess then.” Hanni knows that Y/N is teasing her, she always does but she doesn’t mind. She’s been so dense about her own feelings - that when she finally realises it for who knows how long, Hanni just gets all shy and tries to keep everything within her grasp.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be the cliche romantic, Park.” Y/N smiles, taking a sip of her hot chocolate because Hanni had made her promise not to order any iced americano on their date. She reaches for her hand, wiping any excess whipped cream off the corner of her lips - a gentle peck on the back of Hanni’s hand.

“I’m really sweet, Hanni.” She smiles, swatting Y/N’s arm as she takes a sip of her own drink. “What were you even staring at?”

“Nothing. Just some last minute council stuff.” Hanni will never admit that she’s staring at the picture she just took that would become her wallpaper soon. Unbeknownst to Hanni’s knowledge Y/N had managed to catch her taking pictures while by the counter - a small smile on her face as she listens to Hanni rant about their extracurriculars as if they aren’t experiencing the same thing.

Their little chat in the cafe was a nice way to lighten things up. Seeing how Hanni is indeed a yapper that always has a new topic to bring up. Y/N has always been a listener - an observer; she doesn’t mind Hanni talking but also she gives in little inputs when the topic shifts towards both of their interests. She smiles, their pinkies intertwining as she puts down her mug and lets Hanni talk about what type of partner she likes.

“Never. Never make a grand gesture in public. You should know that considering how private you are, Y/N.” Nodding in agreement as Y/N places her free hand on her chest, promising to Hanni never to do anything that is grand or draws attention onto them.

“So, nothing like what Jungwon has done.”

“Shut up.”

Y/N smiles as she looks at her watch, then at the window, signalling Hanni that they should do what they had intended on doing - Christmas shopping. They cleaned up their table, with Y/N carrying the plates and mugs in the tray as Hanni carried their coats as she waited by the door.

Y/N thanked Hanni as she wore her coat, offering her arm as they walked towards the train station - it wasn’t far from the cafe but it was expected that there would be a lot of people. As Hanni continued her topic once again on their respective best friends and how they’ve been acting a bit too close for comfort. It was as if she manifested it as the pair saw Minji and Chaewon at the other side of the station holding hands and laughing. They didn’t hesitate to pull out their phones and take a picture of the pair, unaware that they'd been caught red handed.

“They’re cute.” Y/N leans her head on top of Hanni, watching as Chaewon looks towards their direction as they walk inside the train. The look of shock as the door closes as Minji and Chaewon fumble to get their phones out - seeing Y/N teasingly wave her hand at the pair.

“You know, Chaewon is gonna get back at you.”

“Let her, I don’t mind if the entire school finds out about us.”

Hanni looks at her, eyebrow raised in curiosity as she holds onto her hand and gently squeezes it. Leaning back onto her as their train arrives - Hanni getting to sit down while Y/N stood in front of her, hands still intertwined as they enjoyed the silence and their touches.

Y/N is looking at the signs, waiting for their stop as Hanni admires her. A small smile as she gently tugs on her arm to get her attention. Once Y/N was looking at her, she mouthed ‘I like you - a lot’.

It didn’t take long for Y/N’s face to heat up and blush like crazy as she says it back. Looking away once more as their stop was nearing, clearing her throat as she hears Hanni snicker at the girl in front of her that’s red as a tomato.

—————————

The pair had decided to go to separate shops to finish faster, one of which involved buying each other presents. They agreed on meeting up for a very late lunch at Hanni’s choosing which led to them eating at Y/N’s family restaurant.

Y/N sighed, walking towards the restaurant but stopping as she looked at a record shop, one that had an enormous collection of vinyls and turntables. Although she had already gotten Hanni a gift, it would seem nice to get her a turntable as she kept on hearing the girl talk about it so much. As she was about to walk inside, her name was being called - it was Hanni with a bright smile. Too late, she can’t buy that turntable now.

“Hey, you’re done?” Y/N meets her halfway, carrying some of the paper bags as she offers her hand to Hanni. She takes it and walks with her towards the restaurant.

“Yup, luckily everything was still in stock. How about you?”

“All done, I had everything listed.” Y/N looked back at the record shop and shook her head - maybe it was too early to buy something that big for a relationship that’s only starting.

As they reached the restaurant, a long line greeted them, with a defeated sigh coming from Hanni - she was ready to find a different restaurant. Not until Y/N guided her towards the front, taking a deep breath as she talked to the manager. Immediately getting seated as Hanni was left dumbfounded with how fast that had happened.

She’s heard Y/N speak formally and straight to the point but not in such a deeper and assertive way that left her wanting to hear more. Y/N tilts her head as Hanni is staring at her through the menu then shifting it back down. Making her laugh, gently placing it down to get Hanni’s attention once more.

“You’re staring.”

“Huh?” Y/N smiles, gently reaching for Hanni’s hand to give it a gentle squeeze. It’s a simple gesture but it says a lot. For the entire date, Hanni has been staring, taking subtle pictures of Y/N whenever she can just to remember their first date.

Lunch was done before they knew it - it wasn’t the best idea to rely on hot choco and pastry for breakfast only to go on a long christmas shopping spree and having a late lunch in a busy restaurant. Nonetheless, they immediately left after paying, once again taking the train on their way home.

For Y/N, this was her way of experiencing Hanni’s day to day life. She’s shy to admit that it’s her first time riding a train when her entire life she was chaperoned wherever she would go - let alone she knows how to drive but chooses to simply try what Hanni experiences from a day to day basis. It wasn’t like she spent hours the night before trying to understand the train system of Seoul as if she hadn't spent her entire life there. While Hanni was close to drifting off to sleep leaning her head on Y/N’s shoulder, their hands intertwined as she waited for their stop - she wouldn’t mind taking the train or bus if it meant that she could spend a bit more time with Hanni.

She doesn’t mind the simple life as long as it's with her.

—————————

“Your parents don’t mind that I’m in your room?” Y/N sat on the floor, next to the paper bags from their shopping spree, arms sprawled out as she looked up at Hanni who’s sitting on the edge of her bed. Once again, staring at her with that small subtle smile that makes her heart flutter.

“Not really, honestly we’re just waiting for your driver to pick you up.”

“I don’t want this day to end just yet.” Using her arm to cover her eyes from the bright light in Hanni’s room, she could hear a chuckle and shift in the room. A weight on top of her as her arm is slowly being removed from her face - there laid Hanni on top of her with the biggest grin on her face.

“Park.” A poke on her cheek, followed by Hanni’s arms slowly wrapping around her neck. She doesn’t want to leave - to stay in her arms on the bedroom floor as if she wasn’t worrying about Hanni’s parents walking in and checking up on them.

“Pham.” She holds Hanni by the waist to make sure she doesn’t fall from her grasp. Pulling Hanni closer as she closes her eyes, enjoying the intimate moment as they hold each other.  Nothing else was to be said, they were simply enjoying each other’s presence and embracing before Y/N had to go home. 

They don’t know how long they were out, but somehow they fell asleep on the floor. Arms wrapped around each other as Hanni’s parents took pictures of the pair using Hanni’s phone, gushing at how cute the pair looked.

“Who would have thought that they used to hate each other.” Mr. Pham smiles at the pair as Mrs. Pham lay a blanket on top of the pair, slowly walking out of the room and shutting the door.

Who would have thought that they’d end up dating when all these years they’ve shown distaste at each other.

[meowshark12]

i know it won't work...(rc)(2)

series summary: you're best friends with topper, kelce, and rafe. it has never bothered you to see them with other girls, knowing that they usually only have flings, but, when rafe gets what appears to be a girlfriend, how does this change things?

chapter 2 summary: you and your girls show up to Topper's, and have some fun before the fun even begins. you talk to Rafe before either of you are feeling the effects of your drinks, but what happens after the drinks start flowing?

(not canon)rafe x kook!reader, original characters

warnings: underage drinking. but I fear that's obvious.

1 2 3

chapter 2: its complicated.

The party begins for the six of you well before the party begins for the rest of the island. As you arrive to Topper's house, the boys welcome each of you with your drink of choice. Topper holding Macey's, Kelce holding Stella's, and Rafe holding yours.

"How did you know?!" you ask, though you know the answer. You and your girls were spontaneous in many ways, but you knew what you liked to drink and didn't always want to branch out.

"Lucky guess," Rafe shrugs with a smirk and a slight roll of his eyes. You laugh with him, knowing that he was thinking the same thing you were. The six of you begin conversing as if you hadn't seen each other in weeks, but the conversation only lasts a few minutes before Topper cuts in.

"Okay, okay," Topper begins, "beer pong?" he asks, prompting an immediate 'yes' from the rest of you. The six of you walk out onto the massive porch that wraps around Toppers house. You hang toward the back intentionally. Having a group of 6 was perfect almost all the time, since everyone always had a partner. But, for beer pong, only 4 people could play at a time. Topper and Kelce partner up, and so do Stella and Macey, leaving you and Rafe out of the first game.

While you may normally be upset about the way everyone split off, you were thankful this time. You were going to be able to talk to Rafe about what had happened earlier today with his dad.

"Fuck you guys," Rafe retorts, playfully. "Looks like it's just me and you," he says, turning his attention to you.

"Don't sound too excited," you start, feigning offense at his comment. You finish the last sip of your drink and crush the can. "Come inside with me? Need another drink!" you say, hoping to get Rafe to follow.

"How are you already done? You literally got here less than 10 minutes ago,"

"...I was thirsty," you say, opening the door and walking into the house before turning over your shoulder, "are you coming or what?" Rafe follows close behind you.

As you enter Topper's kitchen, you feel the atmosphere shift. You open the fridge to find yourself and Rafe some new drinks, since he finished his on your short walk from outside into the kitchen.

The two of you were quite animated when you were outside, but, being alone with Rafe, you didn't feel the need to turn on your outgoing personality anymore. And, it seemed, neither did he. Or maybe he just knew you were trying to corner him into a conversation he wanted no part of.

You hand Rafe his drink and hoist yourself up so that you're sitting on the countertop. Rafe stands to your right, leaning against the counter. "So..." you begin, hoping to break the ice that has seemed to form between the two of you. Neither of you moves. He moves to open the beer you handed him.

"I know what you're gonna say." he says and looks at you with a straight face, though you swear his eyes are smiling.

"How could you possibly know what I'm about to say?" you look at him and ask with a tone of incredulity, as if appalled, but more appalled that he could read your thoughts.

He pauses and takes a swig of his drink, leaving you on the edge of your seat. You drink some of yours, more than you usually would in one sip.

"I can just tell. You make it pretty easy," he says nonchalantly, as if he wasn't the one making it easy to tell earlier in the day, practically glued to his phone staring at a message from his father. You look down and inhale sharply before speaking.

"So what did the message say then?" you ask, bluntly. Rafe's face changed, his unbothered smirk disappearing for a split second into ambiguity before returning. Rafe liked that you were able to not beat around the bush with him. He found it to be one of the things he liked the most about your relationship with each other. He turns his body to face you, practically brushing your leg with his torso.

"It was just about work- for him I mean." he says with a sigh. You cock your head to the side, silently urging him to keep speaking. "He gets mad about these deals with the company not going through and kinda takes it out on me."

You nod, your face softening. He continues, looking up into your wide, accepting eyes, "I know I'm supposed to be helping with the company, but the shit he blows up about is not even stuff I'm involved in. But I'm sure he's justified it enough that I'll be awaiting punishment when I come home tomorrow," he finishes, his eyes looking just past you.

"I'm sorry, Rafe." you ay, his attention turning back to you. Hes more willing to look at you while you speak than he is to look at you when he speaks.

"I know you're doing the best you can with what he gives you. It's hard to continue being successful, though, if he keeps blowing up at you for shit you didn't have a place in doing. I understand why you're frustrated, but I hope you know that other people notice how hard you're working, even if Ward isn't the one to say something about it." You pause, making sure he's listening to you before continuing. Rafe could not be more attentive if he tried, your captivating eyes catching his attention, and your kind words keeping it.

"Just try not to let it bother you. Or, if anything, try to take compliments from others the same way you would take criticism from Ward. It might make you realize how well you're actually doing." you finish, out of breath from your spiel. Rafe is staring down at you, his blue eyes nearly popping out of his head from what you said. He waits a minute before speaking, long enough that you aren't sure he was going to even respond.

"Even though I knew you were gonna ask me about it, I also knew that I would want to listen to everything you said after I told you." He says, truthfully. You see the way his shoulders relax as he speaks, indicative of how much he trusts you. "I really don't understand how you're so good at this whole thing."

"What 'whole thing'?"

"I don't know... the like... therapist thing?" he says, clearly unsure if that was the right choice of words. He stands up straight, moving so he's directly in front of you as you sit on the counter.

"Well, I don't know. But I'm glad it makes you feel better? So thanks for listening," you shrug. You're almost at his eye level, realizing just how tall he is in this exact moment. There's a tension between you that wasn't there before, and you're not sure why.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he seemed to need comfort, or maybe it was the sneaky compliments you had both given to the other, but you felt like you should give him a hug. That was something you had never done after years of these so-called 'therapy sessions', but it just felt right, in this moment.

However, the moment was soon ruined when your friends entered the room. Hooting and hollering was all you could hear as you and Rafe finished your conversation, separating, though you weren't entirely that close to begin with.

"Who won?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

Stella and Macey looked defeated, which was probably what prompted Stella to say, "I need another drink," and for Macey to nod along.

You hopped off the counter to open the fridge, but Topper beat you to it. "I think, since you lost, its only fair if you shotgun one first..." Topper says mischievously. The girls roll their eyes but hold out their hands.

"You're totally going down later. That was just our warmup," Macey says, flexing her muscles, as Stella nods along in agreement.

"Ok, but only if me and yn get to show off our skills too." Rafe adds in. You smile and nod along, glad that Rafe seemed to be out of his funk. You were also glad that he saw you as a pong partner and someone to talk to about hard things.

The boys, your girls, and you decide to all shotgun one beer, since it only seemed fair that way, and since the boys definitely just wanted to show off their skills.

You finish somewhere in the middle, Stella coming in last and complaining because the boys had 'rigged it', though you all knew she was just mad that she lost.

As time goes by, you don't realize how many people actually end up attending the house party. You've been standing outside with the same group of people for over an hour, but you look up to find that the population has tripled since the last time you noticed. Since you're so enamored with your friends, you don't always look around to see what other people are up to.

You had gone inside to find Topper's secret stash of alcohol (in his closet in a shoebox... not very secret but ok Top) and your group was gone when you came back down. Since you knew the house, you figured you would walk around until you got bored and found your group.

This is how you found yourself in the kitchen with a group of people you would not usually hang around. You were having a good time, but after 10 minutes (give or take) you were found by your girls, who then dragged you back outside.

"We've been looking for you everywhere," Stella says, grabbing your arm.

"Yeah dude, we aren't whole without you!!" Macey says passionately, leaning her head on your shoulder. You smile, saying goodbye to your acquaintances and letting yourself be dragged outside by your best friends.

Your buzz was buzzing by this point in the night, that's for sure. Your group was sitting around the fire pit in Topper's backyard by the pong table that has since been moved from the porch (due to some shenanigans that had Topper screaming about 'expensive pillows'?). There was one couch, occupied by Topper, Macey, and Stella, and 6 chairs, occupied by Rafe, you, Kelce, some of Topper's other friends, and there were a few people standing around nearby. You relaxed into the chair beneath you, staring up at the stars before a voice interrupted your peace.

"Hey boys!!" the voice exclaimed, almost too excitedly. You wouldn't normally recognize the voice, but, having heard it that same day in fourth period, you knew it all too well.

Heads turn, your girls staying silent while the others in the group said hello to Amber and her two friends. Your eyes dart to Stella and Macey, who are already looking at you from across the fire. The look you shared was indescribable, but you all knew what it meant.

...

"the big 3"

mace🦋

was she even invited

stella may💫

what. the. fuck.

mace🦋

nah bro bc why is she here. I dont think she's

ever been to this house EVER. she prob hasn't

even been on this street.

you

aint no way dude.

mace🦋

yn you spoke her into existence

you

don't even fucking say that rn.

...

You look up from your phone, seeing Amber perched on the arm of Kelce's chair, while her minions friends were behind her. You catch Topper's eye after looking around, the look he shoots you saying "we all know that you three are texting each other." but you ignore it. You look over, looking at Rafe', but his eyes were only on Amber. His leg was bouncing. You never wished you could read minds until now. The conversation is casual as you tune in, then Amber speaks.

"Is anyone even gonna play pong?? Why is there a table set up if nobody is playing?" she says, waiting for a response. The boys smirk.

It's not that Amber wasn't physically attractive. Of course, she was beautiful. Long blonde hair cascaded her shoulders, her long legs smooth and shiny. She was thin, athletic, but also the worst person you had ever had the misfortune of speaking with. That being said, you understood why boys liked her, but you understood why many girls did not.

"We played a little earlier, Kelce and I still have to rematch the Stels and Mace," Topper jokes, while your girls roll their eyes. Stella opens her mouth to speak before she is interrupted.

"Well, that can wait, can't it?" Amber drawls, "Anyway, I've never played... well, maybe once, but I'm no good... I probably need some practice or a good partner to help carry me," she continues with a fake laugh. One of Topper's friends is about to offer when Rafe speaks up.

"I'll be your partner," he offers, shrugging, and you almost let your jaw drop. You didn't think Rafe would do that, to be completely honest. You thought he would laugh at the idea of ever even being seen with her, but it appears you were wrong about him in that way.

"I'll go set up then!" Topper gets up, prompting Kelce to follow him.

You couldn't help but be a little hurt, and you couldn't tell if it was jealousy, betrayal, or a mix of both. Rafe had borderline said he wanted to be your partner earlier, and now he goes with Amber? Of course you were jealous of her effortless looks, but something about her partnering up with Rafe made the jealousy seem to explode within you.

...

"the big 3"

stella may💫

team meeting. top's parents room closet. 5 mins.

mace🦋

On my way!

stella may💫

I'll be close behind. gotta piss!

you

yeah need.

mace🦋

you good?

you

prob. idk. talk abt it soon. wtf is wrong with me?

...

You head up to the closet in Topper's parents room, the place that the you used to hide in when you would play hide and seek turned into your hideaway during these uncomfortable events, and now from whatever just happened outside. Your girls meet you there soon after.

"Ok, what the fuck was that?" Stella borderline yells over the faint party music you can still hear downstairs. You lay on the ground on your side as your girls sit down in front of you.

"Yeah, I'm not gonna lie, we thought you were over exaggerating about how she acted earlier today... but that was crazy." Macey explains. It doesn't bother you that she said she thought you were overreacting, because now she sees the truth of how Amber can act.

"I know." you begin, rolling to lay on your back with your hands on your stomach. "I honestly don't care that she's here," you pause, thinking about the next thing you were gonna say, "...but I think I'm just mad that she's hanging out with OUR friends." you finish, happy with getting that off of your chest.

"I KNOW!!" Macey exclaims, and it made you glad that you weren't acting crazy like you had thought. "She just comes in here, takes our friends, and walks away like it's nothing with her gorgeous hair, and pretty smile, and oh my god she's doing it to me!"

"Maybe we are just being dramatic." Stella says, always the voice of reason. "Maybe they really have a reason to like her and we are just gatekeeping our friends from making more friends and branching out."

"STELS, why would they even want different friends!? Shouldn't they be happy like we are with them? I mean we could definitely make cuter, funnier, better boy friends, but we settled for them and they should do the same for us." Macey interrupts in a drunken ramble. You laugh, rolling your eyes at your friend.

"I think maybe we are making this too big of a deal." The girls look at you as you sit up. "Why are we letting this affect our night? Let's go back down there. They're probably done playing by now, we can get our boys back." You say, rallying your girls to get up, get pretty, and continue to get drunk(er).

They agree with you, and the three of you head back downstairs after leaving your safe space. You walk outside after getting stuck in a boring conversation with your lab partner and you walk toward the game of pong that is somehow still going on.

When you see Rafe's arm around Amber's shoulder as she leans into his side, you don't react. You hope that they will hook up tonight and then Rafe won't speak to her again, like he usually does. At least you could hope, for now.

taglist: @flvredcas @rafesno1bae @kiiyomei @silkylovey

@girlwedontcare @sunny1616 @asterizee @pillowprincess4him

@patychieffi @rafeslittleangel @theyluvmesblog

a/n: sry if this makes no sense. thanks so much for enjoying last part, makes me so motivated to keep writing!! also, unedited. sorry if its confusing but hope you can enjoy anyway!

[helluvapoison]

Hi! I feel a little awkward bc I’ve never asked anonymously but I really wanted to ask this but wasn’t comfortable enough to ask regularly, but I really enjoy your hazbin works and the hyperfixation has been gripping me HARD and I wanted to see what you’d think of a Lucifer x Reader where they have a sort of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts vibes, where Reader is his personal assistant and what your thought on that are?

~✨

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

i put my thoughts at the bottom :3c

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• As his colleague, Lucifer is rather frustrating. He hired you as his personal assistant but won’t let you assist

• In the beginning, the most he’ll ask of you is if you know where something is. The answer is usually in his hand or line of sight. Without making him feel dumb, you simply retrieve it for him

• It doesn’t go unnoticed by Lucifer either. He praises you often and in the form of a soft, “What would I do without you?”

• “I’m sure I don’t want to find out, Mr Morningstar.”

• Maybe it takes a minute for the initial “I’m working for the King of Hell” shock to wear off and when it does you realize it was clouding your judgment. Lucifer truly does require your help but he’s incapable of asking for what he needs; it’s up to you to step in and make necessary decisions on his behalf

• That’s what he’s paying you for, right?

• You tell him exactly what’s going to happen before you do it so he’s not caught off guard. He still is. Baffled, really, that you got so ballsy overnight

• Let the banter and boundary pushing begin. Nothing major! You just keep to your word, continuing your courageous streak

• Plucking all the sticky notes off the wall and collecting the ones that were so old they dropped to the floor, you spend an entire day sorting through them. You give his schedule a must needed update and sync it to both your phones so either of you could make changes and be alerted to it

“Why do I need your play-by-play?” He asks teasingly

“So you don’t call me at 4am because you forget I’m not here. Y’know, like last time.”

• Oh yeah, personal space and boundaries cease to exist between you. He’ll sit right next to you, or pull your chair closer to his. When he’s bored, he’ll sit right on your desk

• When he brings you to meetings, which is always because you’re supposed to be focusing on his behalf, he leans in and makes jokes that have you pressing your lips together to be quiet

• “I need to take notes,”

• “And you’re doing great, now jot down how Asmodeus’ shirt is on backwards,” He snickers

• Texting outside your shifts is a regular occurrence. Messages sent back and forth until it’s beyond sleeping hours and you tell him to go to bed

• “See you in 3 hours.” He texts back like he’s counting down (he is)

• Miraculously, you covered all corners of his (rather empty) mansion. Nothing was off limits to you except Charlie’s old room. You made sure dishes left his room or office and made it to the kitchen, checks for the house staff went out on time, supplies were stocked, etc.

• You take paperwork off his desk, screen and divert miscellaneous calls to your phone instead of his, overall taking unnecessary weight from his shoulders. You go as far as to pencil in mealtimes. It’s appreciated even though he’d still forget if you weren’t around

• “I’m beginning to suspect you’re underpaid,” Lucifer partially jokes

• You’re really, really not

• Sure, he spouts his stream of consciousness and it’s up for you to decipher what’s important and what’s just him sharing random details. Yes, he has you sit on his chair while he gestures wildly and explains the mechanics of something you don’t understand just because he’s excited about it. And yes, maybe, you spend too much time in his house than your own

• But you’re disgustingly overcompensated. You thought he made a mistake when you saw your paycheck. If not by actual money, Lucifer spoils you rotten in ways he definitely shouldn’t and doesn’t for his other employees

• “You deserve it for putting up with me,” His voice is laced with more adoration than acceptable, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

• You haven’t been doing it for the money in a long time

• The two of you have been teetering over the line of professional and inappropriate, praying, begging really, to fall on the side of the latter

• You almost kill him when you say you want to quit. Lucifer’s ready to offer you Hell on a golden platter if you’ll stay

• “It’s not about the money. I-I can’t do this anymore, I feel like a gold digger and I hate it! I don’t want to be your assistant, I want more and I–”

• Lucifer heard more and is struck with the overwhelming urge to kiss you

• “How much more?” He asks instead, voice cracking in anticipation, “If it’s in my power, it’s yours for the taking.”

• “Mr Morning—“

• “You want more? I can give you more. I can give you everything, anything, just tell me what you want. I know I’m a mess but I can be better! I can— I can,” Lucifer scrambles to find something, his wild eyes searching the air between you for anything you haven’t already done for him. He sighs, “I can be better, I promise…”

• “Because I want more too. I want to take you on cheesy dates, I want to have you beside me everywhere I go, I want all of Hell to know you’re mine. I want you to come here and stay here because you want to!” He wheezes and tugs at his collar, “And now I feel like want isn’t a word anymore because I’ve been saying it too much— do you ever do that? You say it over and over again and it starts to.. to…”

• He stares at your hand, placed softly over his to stop him from clutching at his clothes. Oh fuck, he can’t breathe

• “You’re really working for that pride title, aren’t you?” You tease softly, smoothing out the wrinkles in his vest before stealing his other hand, “Tell me more about what you want, Mr—“

• “Lucifer,” He all but begs

• “Lucifer,” You hum and he shivers, “What else?”

• “Don’t leave me,” He breathes, “I’ll be better.”

• “You’re already enough.”

• Painfully aware of how close the two of you have become, Lucifer struggles to keep your eyes locked with his. Your lips look so enticing, they always have

• His voice is quiet, almost broken, when he says, “I—I need you to say it.”

• “I won’t leave you. I’m still quitting though,” You smile, hovering over his lips, “So you’ll have to find a different way to compensate me.”

• “Pfft. Easy peasy,”

• He says nonchalantly as if he hasn’t tripped over nothing imagining your lips on his before. It’s nothing compared to the real thing

• Once again, you’re overcompensated

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ hello hi ✨! you’re getting a kith, c’mere. I absolutely see the vibes you’re going for and I am here for it!

i think tony and pepper are hilarious and adorable but i recognise it isn’t the healthiest of relationships out there. i know that’s not what you were implying at all though! the flirting, the bizarre requests, the shameless spending, the nonstop talking, the nonexistent boundaries, the devotion– yes, i see it i see it i see it!

i don’t think lucifer would raise his voice (not to you, anyways) you could get away with actual murder and that’s before he realizes his feelings for you. he can get rid of a body easily

lucifer may (like tony) forget the day of important dates but when he realizes, he makes up for it completely! he feels awful about it

if you look at something for 3 seconds too long, he’s buying it. if you show him something, he’s buying it. if he thinks you want it, he’s buying it

(like pepper) you definitely do put up with a lot of similar antics behind them though are good intentions and lucifer’s better at accepting fault. so if they genuinely upset you, he’ll find a way to mend it... usually it goes over the top

there’s really nothing lucifer wouldn’t do for you, it just takes some reminding that you’d do the same for him

[aimedis]

david as a dad headcanons (+angel) !!

david and angel have twins (older twin is a girl and younger twin is a boy) and a daughter five years apart

Dad David who, right when he found out they were having a boy, knew he wanted to name him Gabriel (he can't bring himself to call him Gabe most days, but the girls and other pack kids will)

Dad David who bawled like a baby when each of his kids were born

Parents Angel and David who are the best at responsive parenting. They have not and will not ever yell at their children especially not for something as minuscule as dropping a cup

Parent Angel who has to be the disciplinary parent because David literally can’t sometimes. Uses the "they're just kids" excuse all the time (the kids know this and use it get out of trouble when Angel isn't around)

Dad David who has a huge fear of being too harsh for his kids and making them feel unloved or afraid of him

Also Dad David who calls his kids 'angel dust' and 'baby wolf' on the regular

Dad David ‘workaholic’ Shaw taking a whole week off of work because his eldest had separation anxiety from starting school

Parents Angel and David who vowed to never let their kids hear or see them fight (they see the disagreements and banter but never the ones that get a little more hostile)

Dad David who never made any of his kids feel pressure to be the next Alpha after him (it ends up being his youngest daughter)

Dad David who wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to pack each kid's lunch box to be perfect every single day (with the cutely shaped vegetables and fruits and animal picks)

Dad David who also writes a short personalized note to put in their lunch boxes everyday

Dad David who lets his youngest daughter follow him around all day, even to the bathroom (secretly dreads the day when she's a teenager and never wants to be around him anymore)

Parent Angel who cries when the girls find their old dance videos and try to recreate it (they butchered the whole choreography but they looked adorable)

Dad David who forces himself to talk more and give his kids the reassurance they need even if he thinks he's saying the wrong thing (Angel is always there to back him up)

Dad David who, when his kids are trying new food, holds his hand out for them to spit out what they don't like

Dad David who cries when he helps his kids shift for the first time

Dad David who holds his kids the entire time they're sick no matter what Angel says

Dad David who takes his kids to visit the grave of his own parents and tells them about how he grew up (laughs through the tears when his eldest daughter tells him not to die)

Parent Angel who doesn’t let anyone kiss their kids on the mouth or change their diapers/pull-ups

Dad David who has full-blown conversations with the baby babbles

Dad David who sees the slightest injury on one of his kids and goes full doctor mode

Dad David who tells the story of how he proposed to and married his mate to his children over and over

Dad David who watches with the widest smile on face whenever Angel reads to or plays with their kids

Parents Angel and David who call their youngest daughter crybaby

Angel who also calls their youngest 'sushi' because she loves sushi

Dad David who begrudgingly allows the other pack kids to call him Davey when they hear it from Angel (children are surprisingly persistent he finds)

Dad David who has picky kids and has mastered all of their safe foods

Dad David who is the type to stay up all night to finish his kid's art project they left until the last minute

Dad David who will let his kids gnaw on his fingers when they're teething

Dad David who thought he wouldn't be as good of a father as his own was but the second he laid eyes on his firstborn twins he swore he would dry his damn best (best dad david)

Parents Angel and David who go all out for birthday and holiday gifts (gets those kids everything on their wishlists)

Parents Angel and David who still made a point to teach their kids proper gratitude and respect (those kids are genuine angels that choose chaos) ((like someone we know veryyyy well))

Dad David who does the girls' hair in cute styles and is more than happy to oblige when his son shyly asks for pink bows in his hair (will fight anyone who says anything)

Dad David who loves his family more than anything

[fernandopiastri28]

high for this ~ oscar piastri

Notes:

i am officially finished with holidays and back to school :/ so im going to be posting a lot less but i do have a few works just rotting in my drafts so i'll probably just be changing the names of characters and posting them. (not proof read so i apologise if there's any mistakes)

warnings: smut, weed, drug use, mdni

Oscar mindlessly lays sprawled out on his bed, his muscles aching from the gym earlier in the day. He tenderly rubs his hamstring, trying to nurse it back to not being too sore for his match tomorrow. 

He has some music playing as quietly as possible, a pulsing tune of some heavy rap. It’s not really to his taste, but he’s bored with his own playlists at the moment. His phone is near the foot of his outstretched left leg, while his right leg is tucked up towards his torso, his knee pointing high towards the ceiling. Both hands are hard at work around his right leg, his fingers pressing into the tough flesh.

He feels a buzz travel through his left foot as his nails dig into his skin. He makes a note to cut them. He hears the buzz too, this time over the sound of the music. He sits up awkwardly, wincing at the strain on his leg. Using his left hand, he picks up his phone and checks the two new messages he’s received. 

It’s Talia, unsurprisingly. She should be asleep, though, she promised him she’d start working on fixing her sleep schedule. He clicks the notifications, squinting to see the messages with the medical white lights flashing in his eyes in comparison to the darkened room.

tals🧡: you up?

tals🧡: do u wanna come over

Oscar shifts around in his bed so his back is pressed against a stack of pillows. He brings his hand away from his hamstring, ignoring the dull shoot of pain that runs up his leg once it loses his attention.  

They don’t do a lot of sneaking over to each other's houses, simply because they can see enough of one another during school days, so it isn’t anything essential. They get in all the kissing, cuddling, and make outs they want to during the day, so if she’s suggesting this, it means sex. 

Not necessarily just sex, anything within the umbrella of sexual activity. Oscar shifts his hips, trying to decide what he wants to do. They live pretty far from each other, meaning for him to sneak over, it's a 25-minute walk each way since he can’t just take the family car. It’s late—nearing midnight—and he’s sore. On the other hand, he’s horny.

And at Talia’s house, she doesn’t live with her parents. She lives with two of her close friends, skipped out on the college experience after her first year. Oscar didn’t get that luxury, much like his older sisters. Both of them lived at home for uni. But while she’s off now in France, he’s still a third year university student. Since her family won’t even be there, they don’t have to worry about being sneaky or quiet.

Oscar: Yeah. See you soon

He unplugs his phone and slips his feet into the pair of slides that are sitting at the foot of his bed. He opens his wardrobe, grazing his fingers over the line up of shirts that rest there. He grabs a graphic white t-shirt, wrestling it on. He cracks open his door, walking past his sister’s and the guest room, both vacant. His parents are on the level upstairs, so they can’t hear any disturbance he’s making. 

He settles for catching the bus instead, unwilling to walk up to an hour. He sits down in a row of empty seats, ducking his head down and popping an earbud in. There’s a scarce number of other people on the bus, two girls sitting close together, their heads spinning drunkenly. An old man, greying hair and a newspaper in his callused hands.

tals🧡: come thru window. sammy will bark otherwise.

Oscar replies with the hard thought out reply of a thumbs up before re-pocketing his phone, staring mindlessly out of the window at the dark surroundings that whip by. 

Oscar gets off at his stop 10 minutes later, and he’s the last person on the bus by that point. He approaches Talia’s house, not even bothering to go through the front door- Sammy would bark and wake the whole house up. He clicks open the gate, dragging it out only just enough to slip in. He walks across the side of the house, tapping on her bedroom window once he gets to it. He presses a hand to his pocket, making sure the pack of condoms he grabbed are still there.

The curtains swish open and Talia’s standing there, fiddling to get the window open. Once it's open, he feels a rush of cold air hitting him, accompanied by the smell of something almost like diesel. “Hey,” He grins as she leans down. 

She narrowly avoids the kiss he’s going for, giving him one on the corner of his mouth. “Sorry- god, it’s dark,” Her shadow rubs her eyes, reaching out a hand to help him in. 

Climbing in through the window isn’t a difficult task- just slightly uncomfortable. His crotch rubs against the window pane as he brings his second leg over into her room. Talia wraps her arms around his waist as soon as he’s inside. “Hi, Oscccc,” She looks up at him, her teeth gleaming white. 

Just as Oscar is about to reply, the petrol smell hits him even harder. He crinkles his nose, confused as to what it is. “Tals, what the hell have you been smoking in here?,” He laughs, his hands grabbing at her ass to get her to wrap her legs around his waist. His voice is thick with sarcasm, Talia is the furthest thing from a druggy possible.

“Weed,” She rubs her lips into his shoulder, mouthing at the fabric of her shirt. Her mouth is dry, barely wetting the cloth. Oscar’s eyebrows knit, tensing in confusion. “Got a joint, was bored,” She mumbles. 

He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. At the same time, it’s late- his mind is cloudy anyways. He looks past her, at her bed where there’s a metal tin and a joint laying on top of it. Explains the smell then. “Fuck Talia,” He lets out a deep breath, “Maddie and Amber can definitely smell it,” He groans.

Talia laughs, her voice thick and loopy. “Nah, they cleared out tonight so I could do this.” She pulls away from the embrace, tugging him after her by his shirt. She falls back against the bed, her eyes clearly red rimmed from the dim lighting over her bed. “Cmonnn Opie, wanna get stoned with you,”

It’s so strange to see her like this, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hot. It’s so unexpected, such a pleasant surprise from his usually wound up and rule following girlfriend. Oscar’s resistance weakens, the sight of her laying there- a goofy grin plastered across her voice is enough to make the strong man give in. 

He hovers over her on the bed, a knee on either side of her hips and a hand on either side of her head. “You’re insane,” His mouth meets red, puffy lips for a kiss. She’s hungry for it, bringing her hands up to his hair to tug him down. 

“More,” Talia begs, her voice breathy. Her pupils are huge and there's a spacey look in her eyes. Oscar teases her, shaking his head as he slightly resists kissing her any further than little pecks.

“I want a drag,” He whispers, reaching over her to where the blunt is precariously resting. He places it in between his lips, the bitter taste already seeping into his mouth. “Light it up,” He murmurs around the lump in his mouth. 

Her mouth and ears feel as if they’ve been packed with cotton, his voice is far away and just barely a noise. “You don’t know how to,” She giggles weakly, her fingers pinching the fabric of his shirt that hangs down onto her.

Oscar gets off of her, sitting against the head of her bed. His legs are spread, his body slumped down comfortably. “Teach me,” He pats the space in front of his lap, his eyes looking up through his lashes. Talia’s mind is foggy with weed, lust, and need. She’s willing to do anything. 

“Take this,” she pushes a plastic water bottle into one of his hands, already unscrewed and partially drunk. “You’re gonna cough a lot- the water will help with that,” she explains, leaning forward with her hands propped up on his quads, pushing the hem of his shorts higher up. 

She reaches over to where the bottle had been and her fingers feel numb as they wrap around the lighter. “You feel good?” She asks as he twists the joint around between his lips. He doesn’t quite know how to answer, it feels like a question for after he’s actually smoked it. He nods regardless, tensing his leg muscles under her hands.

“I’m gonna light it, okay?” Another question from her. Her voice is becoming harder to understand, the true effects of the weed settling into her. It’s bizarre to him, this whole situation. “And you just try to inhale as much as possible,” She waits for a nod of competency from him before continuing. “Don’t let it just rest in your throat- it’ll burn. If you can’t do a lot, just do it in small bits,” 

Oscar’s hand snakes behind her, resting on the small of her back. “Ready,” He mumbles awkwardly. She clicks down on the lighter and a flame flickers, wavering just below his nose. 

“Don’t stress it,” She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed and his nails are digging into the fabric of her shirt. It’s almost euphoric at first, then it’s hell. Heat fills his mouth and he’s coughing and wheezing. He did exhale- probably too much. 

He feels Talia’s hands all over him, her coldness contrasting against the warmth throbbing through himself. She takes the spliff from his mouth, sucking down on it herself. Oscar watches her hazily, his bottom lip tucked under teeth. 

“How long have you been doin’ this?” The words feel as if they’re not coming from him. Jesus, surely he’s not baked already. He feels the heavy weight of the joint being pushed between his lips again, his question seemingly going unanswered. 

He takes it, breathing it in again. He doesn’t let it rest in his throat, he focuses on the inhale. He doesn’t cough as much this time, but he still guzzles down what’s left in the bottle. 

They spend a few minutes alternating the spliff, blowing air into eachothers faces. The room reeks of weed and it’s boiling hot. He wipes the back of his neck with his hand, a line of sweat gathering there. She twists the hem of his shirt between her index and thumb, pulling it up slightly. She doesn’t need to ask- he takes it off for her. 

“I started when I first moved here,” She finally answers his question from earlier, dragging a thumb down his cheek, rubbing the back of his jawline. “I think one of Mads’ friends gave her a bunch because she was moving- couldn’t take ‘em. Us three smoked them one night, it was fun,” She mumbles. It means she’s only been doing it for about 3 years now. 

He tilts his head, resting it against a pillow. She presses the pad of her thumb into his bottom lip that he’s unconsciously pouting out- asking for either another drag or a kiss. “Wanted to introduce you,” Her lips turn into a smirk, her eyes half-lidded.

“And why’s that?” He teases, his other hand moving down to her ass. Talia looks to the side behind him, a knowing look on her face. She pulls herself into his lap, effectively straddling him.

“I wanted to get high,” She states plainly, “and when I’m high- I’m horny. Wanted to be like that with you,” Her eyes are bright and her cheeky are rosy. Oscar kisses her cheek, experimenting with how his mouth is getting drier and more uncomfortable. Once he feels some moisture returning, he kisses further along her jaw. 

She has the spliff in her mouth which forces him away from her mouth. He focuses on her jaw and neck, suckling near her collarbone. She moans, tugging his hair and effectively his head back up. She places the joint in his mouth again and pulls on the pillow behind him. He tilts his head enough for her to move it out of the way, leaving him laying down almost completely flat. 

 He watches dazily as she pulls her top off, leaving her in a lacy white bra. He reaches out, his fingers barely feeling her flesh. He knows he’s touching her, she’s making noises to confirm it. “ More , more , fuck ,” She’s begging, her voice so desperate. Oscar wishes he wasn’t so fucking spacey right now so he could see how wanton she was over him. 

He tips his head forward, looking past where smoke is burning into his eyes. He’s apparently not just touching her bra, he’s touching her fully exposed breast. He hasn’t realised up until this point that he’s actually hard. 

“Can I shotgun you?” She asks, her fingers snaking over his nipples. He whimpers at the touch and his mouth drops open around the blunt. He knows he’s out of it, but he’s consciously thinking enough to know that shotgunning is either claiming the front seat in a car, or piercing a beer can and then drinking it as fast as possible.

He settles with the assumption it must be the second one. He lols his head to the side, searching for where the beer is. “Yeah,” He hums, his hand dropping down over the edge of the bed and his hand swinging with the intention of hitting a can that isn’t actually there.

Talia laughs, tugging on his bicep. “Shotgun- I puff smoke into your mouth,” She explains, her voice all raspy from being so dry. Oscar licks over his teeth, his mouth still painfully dry. His mind feels empty, the only resounding thought is just talia, talia, talia. There are a few other ideas, sex stuff, nothing coming close to being as important as making her happy.

She leans forward, plucking the joint from his mouth. He gets a breath of fresh air and begins to gasp for it- a telltale sign he’s had too much in one go. He hollows his cheeks, cleaning the taste of smoke out of his mouth with spit. It’s a useless attempt as it’s already well stained.

She slides two fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his bottom teeth. She lays down on him, her legs still hooked around his hips and a hand pressing to the headboard above him. Their chests are pressing together, her boobs heavy on him. He stares at them, shamelessly, his cock getting even harder to the point he’s beginning to actually feel it. 

“Can you suck my cock?” His voice is strangled and on the verge of incoherency because of her digits pressing into his tongue. She nods, kissing the tip of his nose. Her other hand is still holding onto the spliff, just sliding it against her wettened bottom lip. She finally sucks down on it, her lips twisting around it to keep the smoke in.

His mouth opens out of instinct, his eyes going bright just thinking about her mouth. The second their lips meet and he feels a slow release of smoke into his mouth, he feels like he’s dying. His eyes roll back and he grips a hand to the back of her head, pushing their mouths into each other’s harder.

He’s kissing her like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It’s disgustingly dirty, a combination of spit, teeth, tongues and far too much moaning. Being stoned apparently just makes him feel everything . His lips are on fire, his throat is on fire, his eyes are on fire, his dick is on fire. 

Their mouths pull apart, sticky from the remnants of lip gloss that Talia has on. He peppers her face with a few more kisses, desperate for the stinging burn. They look at each other for a few moments, a complete disconnect from the two of them and the rest of the world. 

“You still want it?” She’s semi sitting up now, her elbows resting on where his hips are poking out from his low sitting shorts. His mind goes blank at the question, unsure of what she could possibly asking.

“What?” He lets out a puff of air, his hand mindlessly travelling through her hair. She nudges low down on his abdomen with her nose, making a weird squeaking whine. 

“Suck you off,” She looks up at him, the green in her eyes barely just a thin ring around her blown up pupils. Oscar nods, shifting further down the bed. Her fingers hook into his waistband, an invitation. His eyes flicker shut, already wasted off the feeling of her hands tugging his shorts down. 

Cold air whacks into the tops of his thighs, the dark fluffs of hair standing up. Oscar doesn’t need to tell her what to do, it seems like every time she’s gotten baked before this has been spent with her preparing for this. 

Talia begins aimlessly mouthing at his crotch, licking and kissing over where the head is resting. Her mouth is wetter than his, seemingly soaked with saliva. He takes a drag from the blunt, his fingers retracting and stretching to scratch her head. She purrs at the motion, getting more eager around him. 

“Cmon princess,” Oscar murmurs, helping to slide his boxers down to mid thigh. He doesn’t wince or shiver when it meets the cold air as there’s barely any time for it to do so. The second he’s fully undressed, her warm mouth is engulfing his length. 

She bobs her head up and down, her lips tightening around his shaft and her cheeks hollowing for him. He’s pushing her head down without realising, the pressure is light but definitely suggestive. 

She doesn’t gag, just takes him further. He encourages her with a string of moans mindlessly escaping his mouth, mixed in with ‘ oh god, good girl’ and ‘that's perfect, princess, keep going’. He’ll smoke or eat edibles every weekend if this is how getting head feels like when he does.

Her nose presses into his crotch, her throat muscles working hard to accommodate the intrusion of him. He tries to touch her, help her get off while she’s giving him the blowjob he’s ever received but the way she’s lying with the rest of her body so far away, he settles for focusing the pleasure elsewhere.

He rubs his thumbs over her nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. She whimpers and whines, her moans choking into noises that sound like she’s crying. Her face is reddened and her hair is sweaty, her fringe plastered down to her forehead with sweat.

“Close, I’m close,” He twists some of her hair around his index, his middle finger tapping into the top of her hair. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and tensed eyebrows. 

“In me,” She gags around his length. She doesn’t need to ask twice. He fucks his hips up into her mouth, forcing a moan and a gag from the back of her throat as he releases into her. 

He feels spent, his body aching worse than it did back at home. 

She pulls off slowly, her lips oiled with spit and cum. Her neck muscles flicker with tension as she swallows it down. That’s new. She’s strictly been a ‘spitter’ to this very moment. He wipes a drop of cum off her lip and kisses her deep. He tastes himself in her mouth but there's hardly any recognition for it. He doesn’t care enough to be disgusted about it, nothing about kissing her is disgusting.

“You’re perfect,” He slips his tongue into her mouth, tugging her up to be laying on top of him. “Wanna make you feel good,” He moves his head, kissing down her neck.

Talia lets out a noise of confirmation, “please,” she whines burying her fingers against his scalp. From the awkward angle he’s at, he slips her pants down past her ass, her underwear at the same time. 

He rubs a finger over her wet hole, teasing it. She lets out a stifled whimper, burying her face further into Oscar’s chest. He slides the finger in slowly, watching the bits of her face that he can see intently. She’s shying away, forcing her face away from his view.

“You’re all shy now?” He teases, massaging one of her breasts with his palm. She doesn’t reply, just keens on him, desperate for more. He pushes his finger fully in, sliding it in and out. “Look at me, pretty,” He kisses her forehead, nudging the spot with his nose. 

She reluctantly looks up before snuggling into his neck. It’s a drastic difference from how she was only minutes earlier. He pushes a second finger in, knowing her all too well that she’s needy for it. She groans, scraping her teeth down along his shoulder.

He groans, throwing his head back. He knows what he’s doing, not needing to even look. He pushes in and out, deeper and just as controlled. Her walls tighten around him, her wetness slicking down over his palm and around his wrist. His thumb joins in, rubbing along her clit. 

“Oz,” it comes out all jagged and breathy. “Fuck- need to,” She can’t finish her sentences at this point, pushed so close to the edge. He gives her a whisper of allowance, his breath hot against her ear. 

“Come for me,” He instructs her, his thumb applying more pressure as he feels a gush of wetness spill down his occupied hand. She’s gasping, panting for air when it happens. His body is still trying to regain full senses from the weed, barely noticing how deep her nails are digging into his sides, leaving red crescent moons into his skin.

Once she’s come down from her high, Talia rolls onto the space next to him on the bed. They watch each other, laying on their sides as they share the joint. They puff smoke at each other, laughing over absolutely nothing. 

“You’re staying tonight?” Whether it's a statement or a question is unsure, just how she intended. Oscar cranes his head to where he can see the sun is peeking out and beginning to set. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay right here,” He hums as the two of them both nod off to a hazy, stoned induced sleep.

[totothewolff]

Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection 18+ | Toto Wolff x reader, age gap, smut operator, clear daddy issues (this fic is inspired by Lana del Rey, duh), and yacht culture.

Summary: Toto Wolff is a name often mentioned at the Yacht Club, where you work after classes. For some reason, you have always pictured him as an old crank like the usual members, not this foxy man who arrives at the reception making your knees quiver.  The entire staff goes frenetic as he, one of the Club's most important clients, chooses to spend his spring break there without previous notice. You pray to the Gods that you don't cross lines with him since your entire livehood depends on this job, and you really want to graduate college. Author's note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but was way too long, so I split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy them. By the way, this version of Toto has questionable morals.

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2 - Breaking up slowly

As Mr. Holst's gateway yacht trip reaches an end, you follow protocol and deliver Toto the guest's satisfaction survey before docking in the Club's harbor.

It's supposed to be confidential and private for the guest. Still, Toto reads you the questions and tells you his answer as he writes them, evaluating you while you sit on his lap in his cabin armchair.

"Any complaints or suggestions, please elaborate," he reads you. "Yes. Y/N's skirts should have been shorter. They don't do justice to that ass," he jokes as you blush, still in awe of him.

He squeezes your ass cheek and gives you a hard slap leaving a red mark, instantly turning you on.

"Fuck me, daddy" you beg him against his lips, already placing you on top of him. 

Your clothes hit the ground. 

You aren't sure if the waves are rocking the hull that hard or if it's Toto's powerful thrust as he fucks you relentlessly, firm grip on your hips, fingertips pressuring on your skin.

-

The guests enjoy the yacht's amenities till the last minute before docking in the harbor of the Yacht Club.

The crew and you are all but busy, going everywhere, attending to guests, and running safety checks and protocols.

You attend to Toto's daily demands as he peacefully sunbathes before going to his cabin to change outfits. His tan skin makes him look even more handsome.

You overheard him telling the person on the other end of the call that he was going to a meeting downtown. 

He'll be gone the entire day and the whole of your shift. At least a bit of a break for you!

These past few days have been a dream but tiresome.

As the sailing master safely and perfectly anchors the yacht in the harbor, the guests start to descend the ship. A small committee of girls with beverages and canapes welcomes them.

The only people remaining onboard the ship's deck are Toto and you; he wanted to go last.

As you two casually talk, he pulls out an envelope from the insides of his blue blazer and offers it with his hand for you to grab it.

"Sorry, what is this?!" you ask, looking at the rectangular yellow envelope.

"It's a brick of money, isn't it?" you think.

"Your tip," he confirms your thoughts.

"But that is excessive. No way I'm accepting it."

"Do so," he sounds authoritarian as usual. "'It's going to help you with that fine." 

"Oh, hey, listen, I will make it, don't worry about it."

"Y/N," he sounds serious, his eyes looking straight at you. He is a very kind and sweet person on the inside. Still, on the outside, he is always cold, stony-looking, demanding, and impossibly hot. "Take it," he enunciates, his controlling trait displaying.

You have noticed, just by being by his side all these days, the pull and effect he has on people and still holds on to you. He is someone you want to impress, to win his approval and have his attention.

"What do you think this is "Pretty Woman"? Calm down, Richard Gere!" you dare to joke to change the mood a bit.

"Aren't you too young to know that reference?" he still answers sternly.

"I live with the rom-com connoisseur, aka my aunt." you smile brightly at him.

Toto has avoided stepping onto personal life terrains, wanting to remain far apart.

"Last time I offer it, take it. You need it. Besides, it's not like you are going to buy a Kelly bag with it; it's for your tuition."

"A what?!" you think. "Wait! How does he know that? I don't remember mentioning that to him."

"Thank you, but I prefer to maintain our relationship non-monetarian." you stand your ground.

"Our relationship?" Toto thinks.

He places the envelope back into his inside pocket as he said he would and steps off without looking back at you, moving along with his day.

-

"Welcome back to land," Chloé greets you the next day as you clip your radio on your belt in the staff locker room. You're getting ready for another shift before hugging her.

"I'm impressed! I must admit. You almost, ALMOST, achieved it! You got a really good-rate review on the satisfaction chart from Mr. Wolff, something I've never seen before." Then, she makes a dramatic pause.

Only if she knew...

Before continuing: "But not so with Mr. Elrod. He placed a formal complaint since, according to him, your incident with him was life-threatening."

"OH COME ON! He barely swoll!" You look annoyed and want to smash the locker with your fist.

"I know, I checked. Still, I'm really proud of you! But Raphaël called you to his office, so please go there now."

-

Oh God, you hate going up there!

You arm yourself with patience while climbing the swirling stairs to the upper floor of the management wing of the building, where the big names' offices are.

He makes you wait for a long time. The fucker knows the long wait it's going to delay your chores and make you leave work late. Until his assistant informs you from her chair at the front desk that you can go in.

You open the large glass door into the Assistant General Manager's office with a speech already prepared in your mind in case of the worst.

Raphaël is leaning back on his enormous executive leather chair and massive desk that screams small dick energy, looking sternly at you. 

Raphaël is a very posh, solemn, and wealthy fucker who is besties with Mr. Holst and his entire family and extended family, a textbook social climber.

A very uptight asshole. Raphaël chose to dislike you from the moment you set foot at the Club; he tries to get you fired at any given chance. 

Most of the girls who work there are beautiful and come from an obvious upper class; most are daughters, nieces, or granddaughters of...

The Yacht Club is where the rich teach their kids a lesson on the value of work or use it as a perfect excuse to kick them out of the house for a few hours.

Usually, they get hired because daddy made a call, and you are none of that.

"Ah, good morning," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you're still here. I'm surprised you didn't quit on the spot after that dangerous incident."

You take a deep breath and try to keep your cool. "Good morning, Raphaël. I'm still here because I'm committed to doing my job to the best of my ability and finding a solution to the problem rather than blaming myself."

Raphaël snorts. "You're the one who caused the problem, sweetheart. You're always causing problems. You're a liability to this company."

You feel angry at his words, but you keep your composure. "I understand you're upset, but I'm trying my best."

Raphaël swings a bit in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "You're just a silly girl who doesn't know how to do her job. You're lucky I'm even giving you a final and last chance to prove yourself."

You feel a lump form in your throat. "I understand you don't think highly of me, but I'm trying to do my best; I have learned fast and proved myself worthy."

Raphaël laughs a cold, cruel sound. "You're just not cut out for this job, sweetheart. We are the best and need the best on our team."

"I...I don't know what to say," you stutter.

Raphaël leans forward, his eyes glinting with triumph. "Just thank Ava, sweetie, for changing Holst's mind. You're on thin ice, one more mistake, and you're gone. You can leave now," he dismisses you.

-

"Thank you, I owe you one, I guess," you whisper to Ava for saving your ass as you cross paths with her in the beautiful and perfectly maintained gardens.

"You were kind to me," she says in the same tone as usual, not as friendlier as you would have liked. "I trust you keep our conversation from that day private."

"Pinky promise," you offer her your pinky. She looks at you with an "ugh" expression, rolls her eyes, and walks away. A couple of steps further, she turns to smile at you.

Now you two are best friends for life in your head! IJBOL.

-

The following two weeks are a swirl of moans as Toto, and you can't keep your hands off each other. 

You fuck everywhere private and remote enough, where there are no security cameras.

You can't have enough of his dick and his body. You are so infatuated with him.

Every time he calls in you at his villa, you end up fucking; it doesn't matter how hard you both try to fight the urge to do so.

He has had you against the door, his bedframe, or the room's vanity, on top of the piano and even in the jacuzzi. The sex drive of that fit man is spectacular, and you are young enough to keep its pace.

You have never been so sexually active and free in your life, learning and experiencing many things for the first time. Toto makes the best teacher and lover you have ever had.

By this point, you lost count of how many times you have moaned his name, called him daddy, or the number of times he has made you cum and beg for more.

-

Your aunt and close friends start to notice your glow. Lately, you look radiant and happy.

She is intrigued to know the reason behind it as you two go to the mall on Sunday.

"FINE. I WILL TELL YOU! I'm dating the most gorgeous, wise, handsome, accomplished, hot guy, AND HE IS SO INTO ME! Can you believe it?!"

"Oh, I can. My niece is great! And where did you meet this adonis, and most importantly, does he have an older brother?"

"He is an older brother!" you want to say but don't. 

She doesn't need to know every single detail, not yet. You want to keep it a surprise for when you take Toto home.

"He has a sister," you answer.

"Ah! And what else can you tell me?"

"Well, he is from Austria! I plan to invite him over to have dinner at the apartment so you can meet and ask him all the questions you want. What do you think?"

The look she gives you! You had never taken a single boy to the house. This must be serious, then.

"Has he tasted your cooking yet?" she wonders before answering.

You shake your head.

"Well, if he survives it, then it's true love!" you two laugh as your aunt jokes and links her arm with yours before adding: "Please invite him for dinner. I'd love to meet him, but you know what! Better buy lasagna. We want this to work, right?!"

-

You love to text Toto sweet and touchy messages throughout the day that hint at how he makes you feel, how much he means to you, and how great it is to be with him.

You are in love.

Yet, you try not to suffocate him or embarrass yourself, still being nervous around him, still wanting his approval. 

Toto still intimidates you. Being the powerful and dominant man he is.

You can't believe you snatched him! Lucky girl!

But in your mind, fuck! Wedding bells are already chirping, and future children's name-searching is already happening.

-

The Yacht Club has a museum/memorabilia section that almost no one visits. It's located far away from the lobby and main guest areas, and for obvious reasons, it has many security cameras. 

But next to it, further down the hallway, there's a blind spot on the CCTV system, right in the space of the door to an old phone room. 

In this room, the original antic magneto wall set telephone is still mounted on the wall, along with a stern wood chair where people used to chat in private.

You ask Toto to meet you there after he texts you he hasn't seen you today. 

Also, you want to inform him that you are going on a "two-day leave" plus the weekend, so you will be away from him for four days. 

You don't want to send him mixed signals, and you're getting paranoid that he might think you're running away.

And since you don't want to miss him, maybe he could join you if he wants and feels like it. You know, couple life outside the Club.

A hand-in-hand walk through Monaco's streets sounds nice; a cute date with wine and kisses sounds more than good.

-

When he closes the door behind him, the place looks ridiculously smaller.

You immediately stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around him as you greet him. 

You share small, soft kisses for a while.

He sadly tells you he can't join you on your break. 

Since he extended his stay, Toto has things scheduled on his agenda that he is supposed to be doing in his office in London.

"But I'm going to miss you, daddy," you pout and give him the biggest Bambi-begging eyes.

"Not even that it's going to work. Try it with my assistant. Thanks for trying tho."

"Where can I meet her?"

He laughs before pulling you into a more intense kiss.

"Should we say goodbye to each other?" he says against your lips, caressing your neck.

"It is crazy how four days felt like nothing before you; now that I have you in my life, it's an eternity."

He holds you closer, pulling you by the waist.

"Then let's make it count enough to stay in each other minds for those days."

"You are permanently on my mind," you confess, burying your face in his shoulder, all red, and not even being able to look at him while feeling the expensive material of his jacket brushing your skin.

Then, your mouth finds his, kissing him hungrily. You push your tongue into his mouth, tangling with his, your hands sliding up the hard planes of his chest, then drifting over his shoulders to find the hem of his shirt. 

Your fingers feel his warm skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through him as you trace the contours of his muscles.

The smell of your perfume, jasmine, and vanilla intoxicates him. This scent will remind him of this moment as he passionately claims your mouth.

Slowly, you undress each other, savoring the anticipation. As hands wander over defined abs, curves, and dips, caresses become bold strokes.

The pads of your fingers move lower, exploring the ridges of his abdomen. With a smoldering look, you glance up at Toto, a wicked smile on your lips.

Heat spreads through him as you press yourself against his groin and your bare breasts against his chest. He can feel your heart pounding.

With a soft, playful jerk, you touch his growing excitement. "Eager, daddy?" you ask.

He nods.

You waste no time, and you get down to your knees as you take him into your mouth as he is sitting in the chair. Your warm, wet tongue swirls around him, your head bobbing gently as you work him in and out of your mouth. 

His fingers find their way into your soft, silken hair, gripping it gently, urging you on.

His pleasure moans grow as you work your magic, your tongue and lips exploring him for a while.

Slowly, you move up till your lips brush the shell of his ear. 

He commands you. "Ride me, now."

You shift your weight, adjusting your position to better align with Toto's cock, and you sink onto him, your pussy fitting itself around his cock like a glove; you feel a jolt of pleasure.

He fills you completely, and you allow yourself a moment to take in the intensity of that feeling, skin against skin.

Your hips begin to sway, moving gently to the rhythm of your shared breathing. With each undulation, the chair beneath you becomes part of the dance.

Toto's hands, which had been resting at his sides, now find their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he feels you move against him.

Your breath is warm and soft against his neck as your bodies rock with each movement. You feel your core tighten, your pleasure growing in intensity. 

The control Toto wields over the rhythm, and you is intoxicating. Your breathing quickens.

"Faster," he orders you; you moan, obedient and needy. He wants you full force.

You feel the intensity of your coupling, the friction becoming almost unbearable.

You throw your head back mid powerful and intense bounces and cry out, desperate for release. 

His hands move to grip your thighs, his fingers applying pressure into your soft flesh as he guides your hips up and down to meet now his intense thrusts, Toto's bucking his hips up now, and your full breasts bounce against his sculpted chest.

Your lips meet in a passionate kiss; tongues entwine at a pace as hungry as the one below your waists. 

You tangle your hands in Toto's hair, tugging it gently to urge him for more as you clench your sex around him, drawing out an animalistic groan from deep within him. 

"Fuck, yes, Y/N," Toto growls through gritted teeth. He slams his balls into your pussy again and again, driving you both closer to the edge.

Your bodies are all slick with sweat as you shudder atop Toto, releasing a visceral moan with an orgasm radiating from your core and rippling through every nerve in your body, dripping all over his shaft and thighs.

He growls low in his throat, a raw, primal sound that reverberates through the room as he surrenders to his own release.

-

Every day away, you text him, exchanging photos and moments from both days.

You can't keep away from him.

-

Upon your return, you attend and cheer for Toto, who is participating in the regatta rally. 

The sound of seagulls surrounds you, as does the smell of salt water and fresh coffee wafts from the food and beverage stalls, enticing the crowd on the quayside.

As the starting gun fires, a fleet of sleek, high-tech sailboats burst into action, their crews navigating the intricate course set out on the water. 

The crowd cheers and chants as the boats round each mark, their helmsmen and women trimming their sails to maximize speed. 

As the regatta approaches its climax, the top boats are neck and neck, and Toto and his crew are straining every muscle to gain that precious extra yard. 

The tension is palpable as his boat crosses the finish line, and he and his crew leap into celebration as they win the rally.

Meanwhile, champagne corks pop on the quayside, and glasses get raised in a toast to the winners. 

The air is filled with conversation as the member's friends and families mingle, congratulating each other on a thrilling day under their giant sun umbrellas and comfy outdoor chairs.

Meanwhile, you remained sitting on the pier under the sun with your crew coworkers by your side, waiting for your guests to return and watching the action unfold on the waters. 

All of you girls, legs hanging, white sneakers almost touching the waters beneath you, dress in blue shorts and white polos with the Club's logo patch on the left.

After a while, the sun and the wood surface start to irritate your face and ass, respectively.

You smile brightly at Toto when you spot him reaching closer in the boat, locking eyes with him.

His shirt is all wet, and what is beneath it is showing. You fight the urge to run your hand all over his chest when you reach him after the trophy ceremony.

-

As you finish setting Toto's regatta equipment back inside the shed in his villa's garden view deck, Léo approaches you, thinking you are alone.

Staring at your bend over the body, eyes on your ass. An excellent view. 

Toto watches this from inside. He stepped inside to go shower.

"Y/N!" you turn without flinching, familiar with the voice and happy to hear it. 

"Léo! Hi!"

"I missed you, cutie," he says to you, even if you are a girl. Then he welcomes you with a tight hug, pulling you off the ground.

Toto wants to see how the scene unfolds, still without making himself be noticed. 

Why is that guy standing that close to you? Doesn't he know personal space?

He watches you two chat, you looking all happy and smiley, telling Léo all about your past days while his eyes burn on you. 

Toto catches desire in them, so when Léo places a hand on the shed and around you, Toto steps in.

"Kid," he calls for you. "My drink," he reminds you what he asked you to do next.

"Oh! Yes, sir!" You quickly move to serve Toto's drink. Léo gives him a "those manners!" look, and they share a quick exchange. 

At that moment, Toto glimpses at his cook uniform in bright daylight and tells him, "I didn't ask for any food." This is a subtle hint to better leave.

When Toto moves to stand right behind you, you can almost feel his knee in the back of your thigh.

Léo proceeds to leave, sending him a silent fuck you with his eyes.

"Bye, gorgeous! See you around, my girl." Léo addresses you but holds his gaze at Toto as he walks away, looking back.

"Okay..." you think, watching them interact.

-

"Let's go, kid," he orders you.

"Where?!" you ask as he drags you by the arm, a firm grip on your forearm as he pulls you along.

"Move," he instructs.

-

Minutes later, the sun warms Toto's back as he expertly maneuvers his jet ski on the waters. Going extremely fast as you hold tight to his body, the jet ski roaring beneath you, surging forward as water sprays behind you.

The salty ocean breeze whips through his dark hair and yours. 

A desolate yet inviting small beach appears in the distance as a coast unfolds. Toto gestures to you to the sandy expanse, "There."

You glance at the beach in question and raise your delicate eyebrows. "You brought us here? Why?"

"I have something to make clear." It's all he answers, in a harsh voice, before reaching land.

-

The waves lap gently against the fine white sands of the isolated coastline. You take a moment to enjoy the sounds of the ocean and the serenity of nature surrounding you.

Your skin and Toto's glisten with sweat, seawater, and sunscreen. 

His gaze roams over your body, relishing the breathtaking view. He licks his lips, unable to resist himself any longer. 

His eyes are so intense on you that he almost looks angry. Toto's expression dangerously morphs into a lust-filled one. 

He leans closer to claim your mouth in a rough, passionate kiss. Parting your lips brusquely, allowing himself to explore and taste your sweetness with his tongue while holding your neck with a stern grip.

His hands move to press your slick body firmly.

Toto then powerfully lifts you from the ground and takes you further into the beach, finally pushing you to the sand and rolling on top of you, feeling your breasts crush against his chest. 

He pulls your legs open and places them around his waist, roughly handling you, nails pressing into your skin, and he sighs in pleasure, feeling your warmth pressed against his.

He moves to remove your clothes roughly and quickly, almost tearing your polo shirt; within seconds, you are both naked. "Beautiful," Toto whispers, voice dangerous.

Your eyes flare with desire and curiosity as he has never handled you this rough.

With no hesitation or warning, he pulls his rock-hard length inside you, making you gasp at the sudden move. Toto's voice rasp in your ear, "Only I can fill you up."

You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip.

"Say it," he demands.

"Yes, daddy. Only you can fill me," you whisper, your voice thick with arousal.

Those words send Toto's self-control over the ledge. 

He slides into you frenetically, your pussy taking his hard hits with thunderous moist claps. He is fucking you so harshly in such a powerful rhythm you can barely take him.

You bury your nails in the sand surrounding you, grasping. "Daddy!" you moan so loud.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," Toto growls, biting down on the curve of your neck.

His thrusts are desperate and animal, and every muscle in his body is rocking. You arch your back, moaning nonstop as Toto keeps hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, relentlessly. 

"Daddy! Please," you gasp for air. You can barely take it anymore. "Daddy! I can't." his balls deep thrust keep going. A massive moan escapes your lips.

"Be a nice girl, take this dick good." He commands.

"I-, I-, Daddy, please." Your fingers dig into his shoulders, urging him to let you catch your breath.

"You are only mine to have." Toto's mouth claims yours, swallowing your moans. 

"This pussy is all yours!" you are barely able to say, shaking violently under his strong jabs.

"Again," his dick slams you harder.

"I'm only yours!" you scream in an orgasm, breathing real loud.

"Again," he slams you with his dick again.

Your whimpers grow louder.

"I'm yours, daddy!"

The feeling of his raw masculinity taking you over, dominating you entirely, sends ripples of need through your core.

Each drive of his hips is a powerful claim, a branding that declares you his.

"Good girl, now it's clear." He kisses your lips softly and licks them, running his wet tongue all over them.

With one final thrust, he buries himself as deep inside you, feeling you clench and pulse around him as you cry out.

Toto's body shudders with the force of his release. You stay there, panting and covered in sweat and sand as the waves crash upon the shore, matching the rhythm of your breathing.

Toto stays inside you, wanting to remain close for a little longer. He places soft and sweet kisses all over your face, now tenderly caressing you. His soft touch is all over you.

He collapses in exhaustion next to your side. The two of you are naked with your backs to the sand and facing the sky, feeling the sun's warm rays on your skin. 

You can't help but smile as you look over at Toto, lying beside you with his muscular chest heaving up and down. 

"We're quite a mess," you chuckle, gesturing to the sand and fluids that cover your bodies.

Toto laughs, "Nothing that a quick rinse can't fix."

He watches you stand up, brush the sand off your ass, and sprint towards the ocean. 

Toto follows you, admiring your naked figure and the way your ass moves as you stride.

You dip your toes into the water, squealing as a wave crashes over your feet. Toto comes up behind you, planning to plunge you into the water, so you playfully run from him.

He catches and kisses you before lifting you in his arms and bringing you inside the water with him.

He admires your ability to be open-minded, fun, and fearless in pursuing new experiences, especially those involving him.

-

A call bell coming from Toto's living room makes you speed there. Your chores today were so fucking tedious; by this point, you have like four good hours inside the china's closet.

As soon as you enter, he informs you, "Kid, I need my things packed by 2 p.m."

"You are leaving?!!" That sounded more desperate than you expected.

"I need to fly to sign papers in my London office. I will return on Thursday, just in time for Holst's Casablanca-themed birthday party."

Oh, yeah, next week is going to be crazy. A fucking colossal gala it's going to take place at the Club's gardens.

-

When the elevator doors to Toto's office slide open, a burst of energy and femininity floods the room as the most stunning woman enters.

Toto's office is on the top floor of a sleek, modern skyscraper, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unobstructed panorama of the bustling London's metropolis.

Her impossible curves seem to have been crafted by the gods themselves.

Her long, dark, sleek hair cascades down her back, framing her heart-shaped face and highlighting her stunning eyes. 

With her full lips in a deep shade of red, she moves with a confident stride, her high heels clicking on the floor as she makes her way to Toto's desk. 

Her toned and shapely legs seem to go on forever. She is supermodel tall, and the way she moves her hips is enough to weaken any man in the knees.

Irina sits in one of the expensive designer chairs in front of Toto's trendy clear glass desk. Her fitted dress hugs her curves in all the right places. 

Her shoulders are bare, and the gentle swell of her breasts seems to strain against the fabric.

Her hands are long and elegant, and she has a massive diamond ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. 

As she leans back in the chair, her hair bounces against her shoulders, releasing a faint scent of perfume.

Looking busy behind his desk, Toto can't help but look up from his papers, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of surprise and admiration. 

-

Toto's iPhone buzzes on his desk surface as Irina moves to get comfy on the expensive velvet sofa by the wall after a good chat and a successful exchange on Irina's part.

Reminding Toto of his responsibilities in life.

He picks it up to open your chat.

"Since it's our first month anniversary and you are away. I had more time to prepare a gift for you." you text Toto.

He watches a photo loading on your conversation.

A photo of a completely naked you arrive, standing back to the camera behind a see-through light fabric curtain that looks like and is the one in his bedroom at his villa. 

Your shoulders, back, and ass are on full display, your silhouette looking delicious to him; you are posing with your arms up, both placed on your head, and your hair is in a bun.

No face, just body, in a contrast of light.

Toto feels like jerking off to that photo when a second one arrives. 

It's a close-up photo of your breast; you are laying on his bed in the villa, again with light fabric on top of your tits, nipples hard, looking ready for him to bite them: no face or more body below your waist on this one.

"What a masterpiece," he replies. "But who took them? It's that my villa? How did you manage?"

"A dear friend of mine takes boudoir photos. I lied to Chloé and told her the photographer came for a photo session appointment with the guests I'm serving during your leave."

"An that dear friend is?" instantly possesive.

"Anne, a girl friend from college, she is an art major," you quickly reply.

"They should hang them in a museum."

You feel so proud of yourself for making him react like that. God, you miss him.

"Hey, kid, you are home?" he looks at his Rolex, running calculous.

"Yes"

"Do me a favor then."

"Sure!"

"Touch yourself till you cum, and moan my name loud." you get wet, reading the text.

"Would you do the same, daddy?"

"Yes."

-

Irina wonders who makes him smile like that.

-

As you prepare everything at Toto's villa for his return, along with Chloé, you dare to ask her a question and discuss a topic you have been dreading for so long.

"Does Mr. Wolff have a leave date?" you gain the courage.

"He already overextended his stay, which is rare, as rare as him showing up unexpectedly as he did. Mr. Wolff is one of those people who schedules everything in advance and always informs us months before, so something must have happened." She reaches out to you to help you place the fresh sheets on his bed.

"So, no date?" you ask again.

"You grew tired of him already?" Chloé looks straight at you.

"OH. NO, NO. I'm just curious," you quickly add, waving your hands.

"No date, child"

Is he staying for you? You wonder in your head.

-

You two have never talked about your future. 

Toto leaving without you has become your biggest fear in life, like ever. 

-

The night is fully set over the sea, and the Club's grounds are set by the strumming of a Moroccan guitar, which sets the tone for the true extravaganza about to happen.

You see Ava fixing Mr. Holst's bowtie as he prepares for his grand entrance.

The Club's gardens transformed into a Moroccan oasis, and the towering palm trees were now adorned with twinkling fairy lights.

The crowd erupts into applause as Mr. Holst enters, resplendent in a tailored white suit and sunglasses, à la Rick Blaine, escorted by a troupe of really hot and barely dressed female dancers, who performed a mesmerizing choreographed routine to the iconic tunes of "As Time Goes By."

The tables are set with fine china and crystal glassware, adorned with candles and a sumptuous spread of Moroccan delicacies, including tagines, couscous, and fragrant pastries. 

The aroma of exotic spices wafts through the air.

Meanwhile, at the bar where you are currently working, the mixologists are shaking (not stirring) up signature cocktails inspired by the classic film's iconic characters. The "Ilsa," a refreshing blend of gin, lemon, and mint, is a particular hit among the guests.

The place is packed with wealthy people from around the globe, all friends of Mr. Holst and his wife, and the bar is the busiest spot. 

You are so busy that you haven't even had a chance to look for Toto. He must be somewhere looking all handsome in a classic tuxedo! Gosh, you die to see him and kiss him.

Then, Mr. Holst takes center stage once more, surrounded by his wife and children. With a heartfelt speech, he starts the party.

-

As midnight approaches, a massive three-tier cake held by two big guys enters in the old style, and everyone sings Happy Birthday to Mr. Holst as fireworks light up the night sky! 

The crowd cheers and oohs as sparks rain down upon them.

Then, you have your first break of the night. Some of your coworkers at recess get dinner, light a cigar, or just sit down in the crew's hidden section. It's been crazy!

You use the opportunity to text Toto: "Hi, my love. Where are you? I want to see your handsomeness in a tux. Daddy, I miss you so much."

-

As a tipsy Toto is laughing and drinking with Holst and his wife when the couple reaches the table where he is, Irina picks up his phone, buzzing on the table.

She reads the text you sent him and chunks of your conversation. 

"Who the fuck is "Kid"?!"

She then starts looking at the photos you shared, fuming, especially when she finds the ones from the boudoir photo session you took for Toto.

Oh, no, baby! Her wedding with Toto is happening, yes or yes, and she will not allow you to interfere!

Toto will not slip away from her! Not now, she got him back at the palm of her hand and into his senses!

It worked wonders to give him that bit of a break after he got cold feet and had second thoughts about committing himself to her.

No one touches what is hers, and she is about to teach you a lesson!

Now that she knows your face, it is just a matter of time before she finds you there.

Apparently, you work here.

-

You are navigating through the crowded party, surrounded by the thumping music and the hums of conversations because your boss asked you to move to attend a special guests table.

As you walk there, you feel a pair of eyes burning into your skin. The hottest woman you have ever seen is staring intensely at you. 

It turns out to be the table where Raphaël parents are. So, to your misfortune, he is also around, adding an extra stress layer to your night as he behaves demanding and pays attention to your every action.

-

As the night progresses, you feel unsure if you are being paranoid or that woman has been watching you for a long time, her gaze flicking from a phone to you again.

Mr. Holst greets you, and you congratulate him on his birthday; he sits to chat with Raphaël's elderly mom.

The hot woman suddenly swoops in, her long legs striding across the room to you. 

Her eyes flash with anger as she grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin. "You think you're so special, don't you?" she hisses, her voice low and venomous, taking you completely by surprise.

You try to shake her off, not knowing what the fuck is happening! But she's too strong. 

She pulls you closer, her face inches from yours. "You're nothing but a foolish little fling to Toto," she sneers really loud for everyone at the table to hear.

You start to feel all eyes on you as she causes a scene.

"This means nothing to him! You are just an entertainment." she continues.

You feel a surge of embarrassment as you realize what's happening. 

Toto looks at you two, his eyes wide with surprise, but he doesn't intervene. Your bosses are standing nearby, their faces frozen in shock.

Irina shows you the stunning diamond ring on her hand and holds it up for everyone to see. 

The table you attend falls silent, and all eyes are on you. Humiliation hits you as you realize the scope of what's happening.

"You think you can just waltz in here and steal my man? Toto is marrying me," she says again, her voice dripping angrily. "Me! Stay the fuck away!"

Irina flings back into the crowd, her words echoing in your mind. 

You feel tears stinging in your eyes as you turn to flee the party. 

"Don't even bother to come back. You are fired." Raphaël addresses you, firing you in the spot, catching you preparing to leave, his gaze burning with triumph and victory.

The sounds of laughter and music fade into the distance as you stumble into the night air, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Léo and Chloé look astonished as they watch you leave after witnessing the show Irina put on.

Your heels are hitting the floor faster, and the trail of your fitted gorgeous gala dress sways behind you.

You know that you will never be able to show your face at this place again and that no one will ever look at you in the same way after this.

God, you are so mad at Toto and even more heartbroken!

-

A loud knock comes at the door; maybe your aunt left work early. "Coming!" you look like a mess with swollen eyes from all the crying and feeling like shit and heartbroken, destroyed, dusted, you name it.

Toto's tall figure greets you when you open the door.

"How yo-?!" you look at him, eyes filling with anger and tears again.

"Ava," he interrupts you. "She got your address and sent me in a car here."

He reads your intention to close the door to his face and stops it firmly with his muscular arm.

Toto invites himself into your apartment. Standing beside the worn-out cupboard, he looks out of place, especially in that expensive tuxedo.

Gosh, he looks so dreamy, fuck him!

"Irina was completely wrong. You are not entertainment; what happened with us was real; you are important to me, more than you imagine." He goes straight to the point, not wasting time making things clear.

You feel a couple of tears run down your eyes. Lots of emotions for just one night.

He reaches closer to wipe them with his fingers. "I shouldn't have allowed Irina to talk to you that way and embarrassed you. Please forgive me. For all. We were on a time off when I met you."

"Irina? You thought that was his sister. You heard Holst asking him about her at brunch, along with his mom," You stupid girl!

"I called off the engagement for good." He looks straight at you and closes the steps between you.

"You did?!" and you die to add the "for me," but you contain.

"Do you still want me?" he asks, leaning closer to your lips, his breath brushing your mouth.

"Yes," a beg escapes your lips.

-

Toto is there to apologize for the hurt he caused. He wants to reach for you, to hold you close, but he doesn't know where to begin. So, instead, he does the only thing that feels right at that moment.

His lips find yours in a tender kiss, at first gentle but exploring, as if trying to find his way home.

You respond with a soft sigh, and your hands roam over his back, muscles reacting to your gentle touch. 

Your mouths open to each other in a deep, consuming kiss, tongues darting and twisting, exploring every spot of the other's mouth.

Before any of you knows what is going on, you stumble your way towards the bed, Toto's hands finding the hem of your short nightgown, pulling it up and over your head, revealing your naked body. 

The sight of your bare skin is enough to take his breath away. 

Toto's fingers trace the curves of your breasts, thumbs flicking at your stiffening nipples as you gasp and arch into his touch. 

God, you always feel so good.

"Fuck," he mutters, bending his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. The taste of your nipple is intoxicating, and he moans in pleasure as his lips close around you.

Toto's mouth works its magic on each flick of his tongue and grazes of his teeth; you get wetter, your arousal building up.

Then his fingers find your folds, slick with need, and he spreads you open, fingering that pussy he very much loves.

He groans at the contact, his cock throbbing in response. He needs to be inside you. He needs to lose himself in you.

Clothes go out of the way.

Toto looks up at you, asking for consent, and with one swift motion, he enters you, his cock sliding into your wet, welcoming heat. You gasp as he fills you, your body adjusting to his size.

He doesn't move yet. He gives you time to get used to him. His eyes never leave yours as he waits, his breath hot against your skin. The anticipation is unbearable, and you rock your hips against him, urging him to move.

Toto growls, low and deep in his throat, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. The force of his thrust pushes your body down against the bed, and you cry out as pleasure shoots through you.

The feel of Toto inside you, filling and completing you, is unlike anything.

Toto's thrusts become harder, more urgent, driving into you with a force that had you moaning out his name over and over again, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

The sound of your sweat-slicked bodies slapping against each other, the wetness that escapes with each thrust, fills the small room.

Your breasts bounce with every move. You are so close to the edge, your orgasm building deep within you. Toto feels your inner walls begin to flutter around his cock, the sensation driving him wild.

"Fuck, Toto!" you cry out, clutching at the sheets as your body trembles with pleasure under his thrust.

He repeats the motion over and over again, your body shaking beneath him, your moans desperate. Toto feels your body tighten around him and your inner walls milking his cock.

With a final, frantic thrust, Toto lets himself go. He cums hard, filling you with his release.

As you both come down from your high, Toto collapses onto you, his body panting and slick with sweat. 

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both catch your breath.

Toto presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Toto, I... I..." you try to build the courage to say.

"Yes?" His voice is husky but caring.

"I- I love you." You are all red, looking down, unable to face him. 

He pulls your chin up tenderly with his finger before kissing your lips. 

Before you dare to confess: "I never loved someone this much, I... I want a life with you and you to be my future. Could, you, I don't know, think about it, maybe, you know, you could... take me... with you to London, it sounds good."

A trail of kisses comes your way. "I will think about it, but let's sleep first. It's almost 4 a.m." he rubs his eyes and wraps you around his body.

"Yeah, I'm exhausted too; a lot happened." You kind of laugh and move to enjoy the view of his naked body, caressing him till he falls asleep, and you, too.

-

As sunlight creeps into your small room, you wake up disoriented. It's a hot day, and the AC is off.

"Toto?" you call his name; his body is not next to you, and you hear sounds from the kitchen.

"Is he making you breakfast? How sweet!"

You get on your feet and quickly pull some clothes on. You don't want to miss that moment for your life.

You pull the slightly already open door of your room to be greeted by an unexpected scene.

Surprisingly, your aunt is there, cooking breakfast for your mom. You look around the apartment, confused.

"Surprise!" your mom lets out from one of the chairs on the small round table. "Oh, it's only me, honey!" your mom informs you, thinking you are looking around to spot her family. As usual, believing life revolves around her.

"Are only just you two in here?" you ask.

"Ahm, yes..." your aunt says, holding the pan. "Well, no, if you count the ghost that lives here, the one who likes to throw my flowerpots."

"It's a cat!" you add before walking fast back to your room. Then you look at the clock, fuck! It's almost 1 p.m.; it's not breakfast time. It's lunchtime!

You pick up your phone, no new texts or calls from Toto; maybe he is dealing with shit after what happened. It's too bad you cannot go back to the Club.

What is that?!

You notice a folded piece of paper on the nightstand. You feel the fine paper on your fingertips as you open it:

"I'm sorry to do this to you, kid, but I can't."

And just like that, he exits your life.

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

[flemingsfreckles]

Better Boyfriend than Him (18+) pt. 5

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read the 4 previous parts here

Warnings: SMUT (18+) frat boy Jessie vibes, oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), masturbation, sexting but not really

WC: 5.6k (she’s a little long)

A/N: I got a little carried away and this one ended up a little long.

Jessie 🦖: feel free to dream about me tonight when you go to sleep

Jessie 🦖: or when you’re touching yourself, I don’t mind ;)

Those texts started back at you as you looked at your phone. You couldn’t help but follow both of her texts, about thinking about her while you touched yourself and while you dreamed. You got home and almost immediately moved into your bedroom.

For a second, you debate taking a photo to send to Jessie, show her what she was missing by claiming she doesn’t fuck on the first date. You weren’t sure if that was too forward now that the mood seemed to shift from just sex to something more between the two of you. You decide to meet your idea halfway. You take your phone, open the camera and slide your right hand under your panties, just cupping your hand around yourself, not trying to get yourself off yet.

You snap a photo, before pulling back your phone to admire it. It just showed your bare stomach, starting at just above your belly button showing your hand creeping into your underwear, your legs spread. It’s telling enough without showing her anything too explicit. Without thinking too much about it you put it in a message to Jessie and hit send.

You: glad you don’t mind ;)

Jessie 🦖: holy shit

Jessie 🦖: I should’ve gone against my rule of not fucking on the first date

Jessie 🦖: maybe I can change my dating rules and fuck on the second date

Jessie 🦖: I don’t even date I don’t know why I have “rules”

The last text makes you laugh to yourself. Satisfied with her reaction, you get back to what you were doing. You hook your thumbs into your panties and slide them off your legs. Your hand returns between your legs, you slowly slide a finger between your folds, feeling how wet you had become at the thought of Jessie. She didn’t take much to get you worked up.

A couple minutes and a lot of thoughts about Jessie later, your orgasm takes over, lasting a few seconds, a whisper of Jessie’s name coming from your mouth. Sure, an orgasm was an orgasm but doing it yourself wasn't nearly as satisfying as letting Jessie do it.

Having followed one of her two instructions to think about her, you figured you may as well follow her second text and fall asleep thinking of her. Getting up you move to the bathroom, washing your hands before getting ready for bed.

Before you climb into bed you send her a quick goodnight text, you don’t get an immediate response and assume she has already fallen asleep. When you lay your head down on the pillow, thoughts of Jessie fill your mind. You wished she was next to you, her arms wrapped around you, holding you tight. Instead of listening to your fan, you wish it was the sound of her breathing putting you to sleep.

The next morning you’re woken up by a call from Jessie.

“Hi.” You’re half asleep when you answer the phone, voice still full of sleep. You clear your throat after hearing how your voice sounded.

“Hey, want coffee?” She sounded far too awake on a weekend, as if she had been up for hours already. It was Saturday so you both didn’t have any commitments to attend to. You glanced at the time, seeing it was still early part of you wanted to go back to sleep, fall back into your warm bed and into your dreams of Jessie. But seeing the girl in person would be even better, even if it meant dragging yourself out from the warmth of bed.

“You already know the answer to that.” You never turned down coffee.

“Okay. Can I pick you up in 20?”

“Is this your way of asking me on a date Fleming?”

“Maybe? Is that okay?” Her voice changes as she asks for confirmation.

“Yes, that’s perfect. I’ll see you in a bit.” Before you let her respond to you, you hang up and the line goes dead and you scramble out of bed throwing on a pair of jeans and pulling out a sweatshirt. It was cold out and you wanted to just throw on sweatpants and you would have on a regular trip to coffee with Jessie. Except now this was a date, you had to look nice.

You get distracted by brushing your teeth and hair, tidying up your room a bit. You end up forgetting to finish getting dressed. You had half a mind to make your bed, knowing there was a chance you’d be bringing back a guest later.

You hear, said expected guest, come through the door as you were still getting ready. Cursing yourself for not being ready you continue to rush around cleaning while yelling a greeting to her.

“Hi Jess!”

“Hi, can I come in?” You can hear her voice coming through your bedroom door. You open the door instead of answering. You’re only half dressed but you don’t care. Her eyes draw to your chest for a second where you had on a simple bra, nothing compared to the one you had worn the other day to tease her, she then looks up to your eyes. She realizes she was caught looking and just gives you a smile and greeting.

“Hi.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, “Are you saying hi to me or to my boobs?”

“Who says it can’t be both?” She argues your point. She’s wearing a red flannel over a plain sweatshirt and jeans. You half wish she had shown up in sweats and given you an excuse to also put them on but you also were pleased to see she was treating this as a date.

You grab your shirt and finish pulling it over your head and down your torso. “Considering someone doesn’t fuck on the first date, I don’t think you have the right to say hi to them.” You finish by throwing on your sweatshirt and walk past her out of your room and into the living room.

The two of you decide against walking to the coffee shop, usually you would if it wasn't too far but with the temperature and wind, you decided to hop in Jessie’s car and drive. A few minutes into the drive, Jessie’s hand comes across the center console, finding its place on your thigh. That’s new, you think to yourself but you don’t comment fearing you’ll scare her into moving her hand.

You walk into the coffee shop, it’s quiet, the majority of college students not yet awake at this hour on a Saturday. You both ordered your usual coffees, Jessie adding an extra shot of espresso to hers before offering to pay. It wasn’t uncommon for her to buy your coffee or for you to buy hers, you both traded off paying, it was easier than ordering separately. Knowing this was a date made watching her offer to pay feel different.

Watching Jessie as she sat across from you you could tell something was up with her. She wasn’t one to add extra caffeine into her coffee besides the standard, claiming anymore made her feel like she was vibrating. She usually wasn’t one to be up before 10 on the weekends. It was noticeable she was zoning out as well, staring off behind your head for periods of time before snapping back to focus on the two of you. She leaned back in her chair covering her mouth as she let out a big yawn.

“What's up with you today? Late night fucking your other girlfriend yesterday?” The sentence comes out more serious than you intended, your attempt at sarcasm completely missing.

“My other girlfriend? Are you claiming to be my first girlfriend?” She’s got one eyebrow raised at your sentence.

“Um. I didn't mean it like that,” You definitely didn't mean to call yourself her girlfriend, sure it had crossed your mind but now was not the time for that conversation. “I just meant that we’re dating.” That didn't help the point you were trying to make, you realize how much of a fool you were making of yourself. “Not that we're dating, like officially dating, but we’ve done on dates, well one date, besides today, this is two. I just meant, it was a joke.”

“Okayyy.” Jessie looks as if she's about to laugh. “Are you good?”

“Perfect, just we’re not girlfriends, I didn't mean for it to come off that way, I know we aren't anything officially.” If this was happening with anyone besides Jessie you would have ran out of the coffee shop by now and never shown your face again.

“We could be?” The words come out of Jessie’s mouth as both a question and a statement. For a second you think you must have heard her wrong. There’s no way miss ‘i dont date’ was already willing to commit to the girlfriend label after one official date.

“What?”

“Yeah that's actually what kept me up last night. It was you, not my other girlfriend.” she kicks you softly under the table. “I was just thinking. Thinking about you, well us.” She pauses, taking a sip of coffee, you can tell she has more to say. Staying silent you just watch her, giving her the space to talk.

“I’m going to need help though, I still really don't know what I’m doing as far as dating. I can't promise that I’ll be perfect, but I couldn't stop thinking about you last night and I haven't had that happen in years. And I’m still scared, not of you, just of how badly she messed me up, and I know you're not her, but I think I’m ready to try again.”

You knew what Jessie meant, bringing up her ex girlfriend and how she had messed her up. For the first few months of your friendship you never heard much about the girl, Lauren. Jessie would occasionally reference her ex, but never giving much detail. She finally spilled all of the details to you on the couch after a long night of drinking. Jessie told you all about the girl, how she was her first everything. First proper date, first kiss, first relationship, first sexual experience, first person she brought home to meet her parents, first and only person she had said I love you to, first person she pictured a future with, and ultimately her first heartbreak.

Lauren was older by a year and when she went off to college, they agreed to do long distance. It lasted for a couple months, going well, facetime calls and texts keeping the couple in touch and happily in a relationship. Or at least that's what Jessie thought until she took a surprise visit to see her then girlfriend. Jessie told you how Lauren had not seemed super excited to see her but she was still young and naive and thought nothing of it. She noticed Lauren’s behavior was different but figured that's just what happens when you go to college and get a taste of adulthood. Jessie only learned the truth when the two found themselves in bed later that day and Jessie removed Lauren’s shirt to find her then girlfriend covered in hickeys. It quickly came to light that Lauren had been cheating on Jessie since quite literally the first day she arrived at school. Their relationship ended following a screaming match between the two, breaking Jessie’s heart and wrecking her ability to trust people and future partners.

When she went to college a year later, Jessie wanted nothing to do with relationships, only wanting to have the same “fun” her ex had behind her back for months. She started sleeping around, enjoying her no strings attached lifestyle for the first few years, until now.

“I don’t expect you to be perfect.” Reaching across the table you put her hand on hers. You didn't want her to think you had insanely high expectations for this relationship. “I expect you to be how you already are, that's why I like you in the first place, because of how you are already, you don't need to change anything just because we change this from friendship to relationship. Except maybe more kissing than when we were just friends.”

“Okay.”

“So are you and I-”

“Does that me we-”

You both start your sentences only to fall silent once the other starts talking. You just sit and look at each other, waiting for the other to speak.

“Go ahead.” Jessie gestures toward you.

“So are you and I, like, dating then? Are we girlfriends?” This felt like the least romantic way you could be asking her to be your girlfriend but you weren’t sure Jessie would be interested in some form of big gesture to ask her.

“That’s what I was going to ask.” Part of you is relieved hearing she was on the same page. She didn’t date, you didn’t want to make her feel pressured.

“Is two dates too soon? I mean for someone who doesn’t date, that seems fast.”

“I don’t know, is it too fast?” Jessie gives you a shrug when she asks.

“I don’t know. It’s confusing. Because I already know you so well, so it feels different.” It was true you didn’t have to do all the pleasantries like you normally would on the first few dates. You didn’t have to ask if she had siblings, where she grew up, what major she was, what her favorite food was. All those details were already ingrained in your brain and that was nice but it was throwing off the usual dating timeline.

“I mean you said we could just do this how we want to, trial and error and all.”

“I’m gonna let you take the lead, if you want to make this formal, say we’re dating, that we’re a couple, I’m comfortable with that. But I’m also comfortable if you’re not ready for that, that’s okay, we can just keep doing what we’re doing.”

Jessie takes a second to ponder your options. Her hands spin her empty coffee cup around, she’s looking down at it. It’s as if she zones out for a minute, her eyes not blinking as she stares down. After what feels like an hour to you, she gives her head a shake and blinks a couple of times before looking up at you from across the table.

“I’m ready to make it formal.” She gives a soft nod with her response.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

You both sit, grinning at each other from across the table. You’re filled with a warm, glowing feeling looking at her. Someone who was just your best friend a few weeks ago had suddenly become so much more than that, it was perfect.

You finish up for coffee, putting out your hand to take Jessie’s empty from her. You throw out your empty cups and return to the table.

“Do you want to come over for the rest of the day?” It’s silly to ask, Jessie probably already assumed she’d be coming over like she usually did but you felt the need to ask her anyway.

With a nod and a quiet “yes” Jessie stands up, grabbing her keys from the table and follows you out of the coffee shop and to her car. Almost immediately after sitting down in the car, Jessie’s hand is back on your thigh, this time it sits more on the inside and higher up. Her hand on the ride to coffee had sat in a more appropriate location, more of a reassuring touch. Now her hand gripped your thigh in a more possessive, bordering sexual manner. You could feel her fingers flex and tighten on you as she drove.

When you got home you told Jessie you were going to change, not wanting to be in jeans all day. You throw on some soft shorts, made out of an old pair of sweatpants that you had cut. They weren’t the most flattering for your figure but they were comfortable. When you emerge from your bedroom Jessie is on the couch. She looks up at you, giving you a glance head to toe and a quick smile. You move over to the couch, picking up a book on the way over.

You sat in a comfortable silence with Jessie on the couch, your calves and feet placed comfortably in her lap. She sat on her phone, probably playing some mind numbing game, while you read. It wasn’t anything special but having the peaceful morning with her was the best start to a weekend you had had in a while.

With a sigh Jessie put down her phone, her hands coming to rest on your shins instead. Peering over the book you look at her, confused if the sigh she gave was one of content or unrest. She looked relaxed, looking forward out the window, a small smile on her face, so you went back to reading. You were only able to focus for a couple more paragraphs before you felt her hands start to move.

Not wanting to give her the satisfaction of how easily she could affect you, you kept your eyes down at the text in front of you. You weren’t able to actually focus on the words but you could pretend for a bit. Jessie’s hands crept up, making it past your knees and onto your thighs. She was having to lean over slightly in your direction to keep moving her hand upward.

She shifts again, taking away one hand and leaving the one closest to you, her movement allowing her to have even further reach, dipping between your shorts and your skin.

“Jessie,” you say as her hand creeps up your thigh even higher, her fingers finding where the edge of your underwear sat in the crease of your thigh and hip.

“What?” She gives you a smile playing dumb.

“You know what, don’t play dumb with me, I know you’re trying to tease me, so just do it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” As she says it she lets her hand slide into the inner most part of your thigh, her pinky moves out to slide across your core with feather light pressure you barely even notice her movement.

“Your girlfriend is asking you to fuck her, are you going to do something or not?”

Uncharacteristically, Jessie’s face turns bright red at your comment. Her hand freezes against you.

“Um, yeah, right.” You notice an uncertainty in her voice, her eyes no longer meet yours, she looks off behind your head to the wall.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah just, girlfriend, isn't something I’m used to hearing.”

“If you’re having second thoughts about this, we really can wait on labeling it Jessie. I don't mind waiting. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s just new for us. Not bad, just different. I haven’t heard that word used since… Lauren.” Jessie lets her name fall from her lips as if it’s poisoned, she says it quickly and quietly.

You cringe slightly at the mention of her ex, not really an ideal thing to be brought up when she’s got her hand touching your pussy through your panties.

Jessie must have noticed your reaction to the mention of Lauren. “Sorry I don’t mean to keep bringing her up, it’s just the only comparison I have.”

“No I know, it’s okay, I understand, just I don’t want to necessarily hear about another girl you’ve fucked while your hand is between my legs.”

“I’m sorry, let me make it up to you?” As she says the words she moves her head, letting her lips meet your neck, placing open mouth kisses down from just behind your ear to where your neck meets your shoulder. Your mouth falls open at the feeling of hers on your neck, a breathy sigh leaving your body.

Jessie stands up from the couch, pulling you to stand with her. She turns to face you and picks you up, her hands roughly gripping the back of your thighs as she moves the two of you to your bedroom. She places you softly on the bed, climbing to place herself above you.

She’s hovering close, holding herself up on her forearms so her face is just inches from yours. She hovers above you for just a second before sitting back and moving her hands to your shirt.

“Off?” You loved that even though it was very clear you wanted her, Jessie still took the time to check with you before she would undress you or do anything to your body.

You sit up, throwing your arms up above your head to let Jessie know you wanted your top off. You get your arms out of the shirt and while Jessie pulls it over your head, your own hand moves to your back finding your bra clasp and releasing it. You slide the straps down your arms. Jessie’s hand comes up, resting the valet of your breasts and she gives you a push, making you lay back down. She moves her hand to cup your chest, her thumb and index finger making their way to your nipple, giving it a soft touch before a firm pinch. Her other hand moves to support her body and she moves back to being face to face with you, she just looks at you, a cocky smile on her face.

“Kiss me!” Sick of her teasing you decide to just tell her what you want. She obliges, bringing her lips to yours in a searing kiss. It doesn’t take long for her tongue to brush against your lips. You feel her grind her hips against yours, causing a moan to find its way out between kisses.

Wanting to take a bit of control for once, you gently bite on Jessie’s bottom lip, pulling away from the kiss, her lip still between your teeth. You give it a firmer bite before releasing it, letting it pop back against her teeth. Her fingers pinch your nipple harder out of reaction to your bite.

You open your eyes to see her surprised reaction.

“That was hot.” Her eyes are wide as she stares down at you, her own teeth now biting her bottom lip.

“Just giving you a taste of your own medicine.” You try to give her your best innocent look, as if you didn’t know you were turning her on.

She switches her hands, giving your other nipple the same treatment. Feeling a loss from her hand, you bring your own hand up to your chest, mimicking her actions on the nipple she had abandoned.

“No.” Jessie is quick to grab your wrist, pinning it to the pillow above your head. “You don’t get to touch right now, let me please you.” She moves down so her lips brush your ear. “You can show me how you touch yourself another time.” That sends a wave of heat through your body, the thought of showing Jessie how you had touched yourself all the times you thought of her. You get lost in the thought of that fantasy for a minute before you’re brought back to reality with Jessie’s mouth closing around your right nipple, her hand still playing with your left. She stays focused on your chest, biting, squeezing, kissing, sucking until you’re practically thrusting up at her with your hips, desperate for contact. You knew when she took off your shorts there would be a noticeable wetness in your underwear, you could feel it dripping from where you needed Jessie the most.

“Someone’s getting impatient.” Jessie laughs to herself, you give her a scowl, but she gives in, her hands finding where your shorts sat on your hips and she hooks her fingers in the waistband, looking up at you for consent. You lift your hips, nonverbally telling her to take them off. Much to your disappointment she only starts to remove your shorts. She has them just at your knees when you figure you may as well ask.

“Take it all off please.”

“Wow, really impatient aren’t we?”

“Yes, I need you Jessie.”

You hear a soft mutter of “fuck” leave Jessie mouth, you’re not entirely sure she meant to say it, more that it was the reaction to you using her name. You’re not sure she’s going to give in, her hand stalling where they held your shorts. She starts moving again, finishing pulling off your shorts. Before you can protest that she left your panties, the thumbs are in the waistband of them, pulling them down quickly.

Once she finishes removing your underwear she sits back. Her hands find your inner thighs and she spreads your legs, leaving you fully exposed under her gaze. As if she hadn’t just exposed your dripping pussy, she looks away from where you desperately needed her. Jessie’s hands come up to hold you right above your waist. Her thumbs caress the skin where they sat, rubbing back and forth. Her gaze is all over your body, looking at every inch of your exposed skin.

“You look so pretty like this.” You feel a blush start at your cheeks and move down your chest as she studies your naked body. She’d seen you like this before, but it felt like the first time she was really looking at you, seeing you. There was a different admiration in her eyes, mixed with the lust you had come to know. “All mine.”

“Only yours.” You tell her when her eyes make their way up from your navel to your chest and to meet your own gaze.

Jessie pulls her hand from your waist, letting her fingers trail a path down to the apex of your legs. Despite your legs already being open, you spread them further, encouraging Jessie to touch you.

“Fuck, baby.” The noise comes out deep and raspy from her mouth as Jessie’s fingers finally feel between your legs where your arousal had pooled. Jessie then looks at you, her fingers stalling their movements, her voice returning to her regular voice, not the same husky voice form before. “Is baby okay? We didn’t really talk about that.”

“Yeah, I like it.” You did, you liked it when she called you her’s a second ago and you liked the pet names.

Jessie fingers get back to their movements. She moves two fingers down to your entrance, gathering some of your slick and pulling it upward before she starts circling your clit. Her touch has you throwing back your head against the pillow.

“You’re so fucking wet.” Jessie hums in your ear and her fingers continue to tease your clit, circling around it and down to your opening.

“All because of you babe.” You groan back in her ear. It was true, you were never this wet when you touched yourself, or when anyone else had ever touched you, you were only like this with her, because of her.

Each time she would move her fingers toward your entrance she’d dip into you, just barley letting her fingers inside before she’d pull back and move up to where you were most sensitive.

Getting impatient again, when her hand makes the move back down to your entrance you try grabbing her hand, trying to push her fingers further inside of you.

“What are you doing?” Jessie stalls her hand, she was stronger than you and as much as you were trying, you weren’t able to overpower her and her fingers remained just outside.

“You’re taking too long.”

“You could’ve just said something.” You rolled your eyes at her, you knew she was joking, you hadn’t explicitly said you wanted her fingers in you but you figured the displeased moans every time she pulled back and the bucking of your hips when she’d get close was enough to give the hint.

You go to make a smart comment back but as you open your mouth, two of Jessie’s fingers slide into you, she pushes in until her fingers are fully inside. Instead of a sentence, a loud moan comes out.

“Is that what you wanted?” Jessie moves so that she’s laying between your legs now, her cheek resting on the inside of your thigh, her eyes look between where her fingers were buried in your pussy and where your mouth was hung open, your eyes closed in pleasure.

“Mmhm.” The murmur is all you’re able to get out, overwhelmed from the sudden sensation of her fingers opening you.

Jessie begins to move her fingers the same methodical curling she had done to you before. Already worked up from the teasing you knew it wouldn’t be long before you were clenching on her fingers. You have your eyes closed, focusing on the feeling of her fingers, both trying not to cum too quickly but also wanting to let the feeling fully take over your body.

With your eyes closed you don’t see Jessie moving to place her mouth on your clit, you only feel it once her tongue is lapping against you. Instinctively your hand moves to her head, gripping her hair as you sit up slightly to look at her. Her eyes are closed, as if she’s fully concentrating on making you feel good. The sight of her so focused between your legs makes your stomach clench and you feel yourself tighten on her fingers.

“Jessie, please.”

She hums in response against your pussy, that’s all you need as you feel your legs tense and your grip in her hair tightening.

“Fuck babe.” You groan as you cum on her fingers and lips. Her fingers continue pumping inside of you, working you through your orgasm until your own fingers come to push on her wrist silently telling her you were done. She slowly pulls her fingers from you, you watch as a string on your arousal connects them to you for a second before it breaks. Looking at you then to her fingers Jessie spreads them slightly, you can see the wetness that connect her fingers. She makes sure you’re watching as she brings her fingers to her lips, sucking them slowly between her lips.

It’s an erotic sight, your newly named girlfriend, sucking off her own fingers that were covered in your orgasm. It stirred something deep inside of you. You wanted to fuck Jessie, you wanted to return the favor, you wanted to be sucking her arousal off your fingers, but you weren’t sure how.

You weren’t sure how to ask, and even if you found the courage to ask, you weren’t sure what to do. You had always thought about sleeping with a girl, girls were hot, you were attracted to women, you just had never gotten around to acting on it, the fear of being considered a “virgin” as far as sleeping with women had kept you from trying any casual hookups. But now you were dating Jessie, that was different than a casual hookup.

While you were too busy hyper fixated on your lack of sexual experience with women, Jessie had made her way up to lay next to you. She was watching your face and you were staring off to the wall.

She placed a kiss to your forehead. You could smell the strong smell of yourself still on her face. She pulled back looking down at you. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you thinking about?” Here it was the perfect time to bring it up, she was asking, there was no pressure, no expectations.

“Nothing.” That was the easy route, not telling her, letting your concerns and fears stay in the back of your mind. You could fake like you knew what you were doing.

“Seriously? You weren’t allowed to lie to me when we were just friends, we’re dating now so you’re really not allowed to lie to me.” She knew you too well, knew when you were lying, she knew when you were overthinking.

“Are you ever going to want me to touch you?” For the second time today your words come out not in the way you wanted. You meant to ask differently, in a way that was less accusatory, less hostile.

“Oh.” Jessie looks like she regrets pushing on the lie before. “I, yes, I just, I haven’t let anyone touch me besides…” you get the hint that she was referring to Lauren as she lets her sentence trail off.

“Oh.” You don’t mean for it to come off negatively, that was just your initial reaction.

“Yeah, and then after her I just, I didn’t want to trust anyone with my body like that again, I was, I’m worried about giving that vulnerability to someone just for them to ruin me again, to betray my trust.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” It’s all you can think to say. You now felt like a dick for wanting to see her naked. While you were too caught up in never having been on the giving side of sapphic sex, here was your girlfriend with more real, genuine concerns.

“It’s okay, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it, I just couldn’t bring myself to. It’s embarrassing.” Her eyes move from your face to the blanket covering the both of you.

You reach a hand out to her cheek. “It’s not embarrassing babe.” You place a kiss on her nose. “We can do this at whatever pace you want, you just tell me.”

“Okay.” Jessie gives you a halfhearted smile.

“I’m going to go shower, is that okay?” You start to move from the bed, still completely naked. You’re about to move into the bathroom when you hear Jessie speak up from behind you.

“Can I join you?”